Chapter Text
"Welcome back ladies and gentleman to the first race of the 2025 Formula 1 season, starting here in Australia. It is a beautiful 30 degree Celsius weather outside here in Albert Park."
Colt ignores all the noise around him. The only things that matter right now are the five red lights counting down the start, the car he sits inside and the cars around him. He forces himself to relax, to let the rest of the world fall away so he can sink into the feeling of the car and the asphalt beneath him.
He's only been away for two seasons but the changes are horribly obvious. New regulations, new motors, returning faces and new rookies on the grid. Not even considering the internal set ups of his team. Does returning to the sport make him a rookie again? He's not sure, he'd have to ask Fernando.
But none of that matters now. The first red light lights up.
"This season is bound to be interesting, bringing lots of changes so lets see how these new regs do on the circuits, as it is go time here in Australia."
Two lights.
There is a pinprick in middle of his back but Colt ignores it.
Three lights.
The two Mercedes in front of him are dangerous, as Qualifying and Practice has proven. Whatever the hell their engineers did with the new regulations was beyond him, but that motor is more beast than mechanic.
Four lights.
Another deep breath. He reigns in all his thoughts into a singular one.
Five lights. Go time.
"—and away we go into turn one!"
It's no surprise that turn one, as always, is a pure massacre.
But starting in P3 is a good way to at least somewhat avoid the carnage behind him. He thanks his own reflexes for a good start, not getting overtaken on the small straight before the turn.
He pulls in close to both of the Mercedes in front of him and follows the inside racing line in the curve. He breathes a sigh of relief when he isn't clipped on his rear wing by the Mclaren that is hanging on his ass.
In his mirror he can see a huge dust cloud kick up, surely some of the midfielders making contact. Lo and behold, a crackle of static in his ears confirms it.
"Yellow flag turn 1 with the Alpine and the Haas. Keep to the strategy."
Hearing his twin's voice is both a comfort and something that pushes him slightly off-kilter. It's a new development, but not an unwelcome one.
Not the time, as he keeps P3 for the next few turns while keeping behind the Mercs. Daley remains hot on his tail for most of them.
It's a dance they've done many times before, even before Colt's accident.
Unfortunately, the Mercedes engine this year is a beast and in a matter of three laps Daley has overtaken him on the finish line straight.
Fine, if that's how he wants to play it.
But Colt hadn't been just any driver. He'd been the best.
So for most of the race, they trade places. Of course, they both fall back after their mandatory pitstops and tire changes, but that only keeps them away from the podium for so long.
By the third quarter of the race, only 15 laps left, both Colt's Redbull and Daley's Mercedes have yet again reclaimed first and second.
This is where it gets interesting, Colt thinks.
"Seavers and Daley are fighting for the win again! And what a beautiful display of racing it is to watch with the Redbull and the Mercedes trading places back and forth. The fans are going wild for it."
Colt's got this in the bag, he knows.
"Colt, Daley's Merc is behind you with 0.5 difference. But he is on older tires." Ryland's voice is static in his ears, but he understands it anyway.
The Mercedes is catching up, but it's too late for it to matter.
Only 5 more laps to go and all Colt has to do is look out for the cars he's lapping and keep Daley behind him. Easy.
(It's hardly ever that easy. Easy, is what he thought right before he crashed into the walls and his car went up in flames.)
"Oh, here comes Daley with an attempt to overtake Seavers into turn Fourteen, can he do it? Seavers manages to stay on the inside in turn Fourteen, but it costs him!"
Seeing the Silver Arrow in his rear view mirror is never a good sign, but he can save it.
"Daley on the inside in Turn Fifteen, can he make it?! And he makes it and stays ahead in turn Sixteen!"
This can't be real.
Colt is overtaken on the second to last lap on the last turn of the lap. Anger boils in his guts. He is supposed to win, it is supposed to be a guaranteed win with the Mercedes older tires and his own newer tires. How the hell does Daley manage to make the damn tires work? Is it the damn Mercedes Engine?
In the end, it doesn't matter as he watches the silver tail end of the Mercedes pass the checkered flag just 2,4 seconds before him.
He should be proud of his P2 as his second debut in motorsports top category, but he's not.
He is supposed to stand on the top step of that podium, not one below it. Second best is still a loser, as their dad used to say. He needs to be better than that. He had been raised to be better than that.
"Colt! P2! Amazing stuff for your comeback! Adrian P5, for your information."
His brothers' voice pulls him from the confines of his own mind. Ryland is right, he basically always is. He should do what is socially expected of him, so he presses the radio button, knowing half the world is listening to his radio message.
"Amazing comeback, guys! Thank you so much to everyone, especially the team back in Milton Keyes and the garage! Let's celebrate!"
Despite his anger, Colt can't deny the delight he felt when he was batteling Daley. After missing out on two seasons, he'd genuinely come to miss their battles on track.
What Daley lacked in social skills, he certainly made up for with wit on the tracks.
Even now, as they wait for the anthems to stop playing so they can finally uncork their champagne and use the sticky alcohol to drench each other, Daley remains stoic even though he just won the Grand Prix.
Finally, the corks go flying into the endless crowd of Albert Park.
On the podium, Colt smashes his bottle down on the podium, the fizz spraying upwards and coming down again like a shower. He turns and soaks Antonelli a good amount and then turns to Daley, who was drinking from his own bottle. Drivers drinking from their huge bottles always looks a little silly, but Colt doesn't think Daley looks silly right now, with both his hands wrapped around the neck of the bottle, the drink overflowing out of his mouth and down his throat into the race suit they're all still wearing.
And Colt doesn't know what overtakes him, but he turns his bottle towards Daley and starts absolutely drenching him. It's odd, he can't find a logical reason inside himself as to why he comes closer and spills the rest of his bottle right over his head.
Daley, of course, doesn't react like Colt probably would. He just looks at Colt with an odd mix of confusion and amusement. He looks good with that post race glow, Colt suddenly thinks.
Why did he think that? What?
And worst of all, Daley is coming closer and then suddenly dumps his own bottle over Colt. Distantly, Colt is happy that he chose to wear a cap so the champagne doesn't immediately blind him. It's only due to the cap that he can see Daley smile at him, small but so horribly sincere.
As fast as the moment appeared it disappears again and the podium celebrations end.
Back in the garage, party awaits him.
Everyone is delighted at the P2 and the P5 start into the season and their garages celebrate accordingly. When Colt enters their area, his side of the garage meets him right outside with hugs and screaming. They'd already done the whole celebration spiel at the borders of parc fermé, where Colt had jumped into his team's arms like he was their savior.
And they hold him up like he is their sun. It's an indescribable feeling.
Right at the front of their garage, leading the crowd, is Ryland.
Ryland, who has always had his back and sacrificed so much for him. Who had to endure their father alongside him, even though he, unlike Colt, never had any interest in driving himself.
His twin, who had to sacrifice his love for all kinds of science just so their father would be satisfied.
(There's someone else, in the recess of Colt mind, but he strictly refuses to go there. No, today is for celebration and not grief.)
Not that far behind his twin are the others in their teams. Mechanics, aerodynamic engineers like Ilyukhina, whose Redbull is probably already spiked with vodka and their Team Principal Yao. All of them are holding their customary Redbull as everyone gets into position for their mandatory group photo.
As most of the team is setting up the photo, he can see Jody and Dan run up to him with their gear in tow. Jody, as Director of the Netflix Drive to Survive team is never far when something intersting happened, she is like a bloodhound, her nose attuned to drama the way no one else's is. Dan, as her second in Command, is never far either.
The two of them elbow through the crowd to get to him and before he can even react, he has two people throwing themselves at him with little regard for his well being. Of course he opens his arms for them both and lets them give him a bruising hug, but Jesus Christ would it kill them to be a bit more careful?
(That's a lie, Colt would hate to see either of them change.)
As soon as his two best friends finally let him breathe, they both start talking a mile a minute.
"—and we need to celebrate! Oh, maybe we can do that one club down the road of the hotel—" Jody is throwing out ideas left and right, Dan not far behind, "—No, we gotta do karaoke!"
"Guys, guys, let's slow down—", he tries calming them down a bit.
As Colt tries keeping his two best friends in line, Ryland pulls him away and pushes a Redbull into his hand. He gets pushed up right into the center of the of the crowd with him and Adrian left and right next to their position board and the cooler on the ground. Ryland pushes himself behind him and Colt knows he is about to experience Cain levels of sibling betrayal.
In the few seconds he has before the pictures are taken for social media, he looks up towards Adrian and he can see Rocky with a mischievous grin his own twin brother must be mirroring.
These two should probably spend less time together.
It's his last conscious thought before the crowd erupts, the picture taken, and the sound of several Redbulls being opened and Colt starts sprinting despite the pain he knows it'll cause his back later.
He books it straight towards the other garages, his brother hot on his heels and behind him he can hear Rocky shriek. For a second, he mourns Adrian like a fallen soldier in a war and continues his dead sprint across the pitlane. He pushes past several officials, at least two other teams garages until he collides with a body.
He lands a bit harshly on his ass, but his pain is fast forgotten in the face of who he almost ran over— Daley looks like the groundhogs in the imaginary headlights of of their F1 cars.
He wants to say something, maybe apologize, but the moment gets interrupted by Ryland catching up and emptying the whole can on his head.
Is this what Abel felt like, being stabbed by Cain?
(He pretends like the feeling of nostalgia that washes over him at the familiar podium celebration is something he can just swallow. He feels a completely normal about the silly tradition, okay?)
His twin pulls him up and more people catch up, dumping their cans on him and pulling him into their crowd again. In the single second he can spare to look back, Daley has already vanished. Oh well.
That night, the Redbull team celebrates a great entry into the season in a club that Colt doesn't remember the name of. They party deep into the night and several rounds of karaoke are held, courtesy of Jody and Dan tag-teaming him and not letting him escape. He sings terribly offkey, but he's way too drunk to care. Over the course of the night, hundreds of people come up to congratulate him and he knows by morning he will barely remember a third of them. But that's how their business is, he supposes.
Adrian and him get to open another bottle of champagne in the club surrounded by so many people it makes his head swim.
A few drinks later, Colt goes to take a piss in the toilet and almost gets flashed by Rocky and Adrian making out against the doors of one of the stalls. Ah, damn. This isn't even the first time this has happened, but he gets jumpscared by them anyway. Slowly, while swaying side to side, he backtracks out of the toilet and prays he wasn't noticed. A fruitless endeavor, because despite their intoxication, the two of them have a crazy good spacial awareness. Their above average hearing has often led to Ryland and Rocky conducting homebrew science experiments while they were supposed to be working. Which had let to several stern conversations with Yao over the last winter back before the season had started.
At some point, he almost runs headfirst into the bar and Ryland decides he is done for the night.
So Colt gets stuffed in an uber he didn't call himself and gets carted off to the hotel the team is staying at.
Back at the hotel he makes his way up to his own hotel room, clutching his room card so he can't lose it in his drunken stupor and gets in the elevator.
The doors open, he gets in and promptly leans most of his weight against the wall and closes his eyes. Everything is swimming and he can feel his own sense of balance is in shambles.
As he breathes through his entire reality is the inside of a washing machine, the door opens again.
And, Colt can't believe his eyes, none other than Casey fucking Daley enters the elevator.
He's in normal clothing, a white Henley and some black pants, a single chain dangling from his neck.
It takes Colt all his might to not jump his bones right then and there as he looks and Colt and smiles.
The same way he did on the podium, like it was a secret between the two of them. As if there hadn't been two years since they last raced each other. Colt doesn't know what to make of it, it confuses him.
Despite Colt losing his mind in the back of this elevator, Daley just turns his back to him and says nothing.
Honestly, the guy barely says anything, anyways. Their head of social media hates it, the fans think it makes him mysterious, and the Pundits think it makes him a prick.
Whatever it really makes him, Colt thinks it's none of the above.
Colt knows that Daley's strength lays in his observation. He sees it in real time when they're out on track, battling for the positions where everything has to be precise and calculated or you sail into the barriers at 300 kmph. Daley sees things others struggle to see, he knows.
The silence stretches awkwardly between them as the elevator continues to go up.
Colt has to do something about it, he decides just as the elevator comes to a stop again. The doors open and Daley starts leaving though the door as Colt spits out his thoughts.
"Good race, man. Our battle was fun."
He almost thinks Daley didn't hear, until the elevator doors start closing and he comes to a halt right outside the doors, turns around and smiles at Colt again.
"I had fun too.", he says and then the elevator doors are closed again.