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blerb-f1 · 3 months ago

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Immortals / Centuries Max Verstappen & NB!Reader

They were like a ghost in the pit of Formula One. Everyone saw them like a piece of furniture, a constant that stayed unchanging. That’s what they were - constant. No one spoke about them, no one photographed them. Like a big shared secret, even the media abstained from ever considering them an icon before their lens.

Yet, history showed them throughout the years. The 10th september 1961, Monza. Wolfgang von Trips collided with Jim Clark, passing away in the accident. They were there, seen directing medical health and other advisors, just barely visible in the background.

That same Italian grand prix, nine years later, they were there again. The horrible day that took Jochen Rindt.

Some people considered them a bad omen yet that sentiment had died out over the time. Their body unchanging, their mind staying sharp. Having seen death for so many times, they had become an audible figure, greatly advocating for safety. So when refueling had been reinstated in 1994, they were greatly angered and fearful for the drivers lives.

For the years they’d spent watching over the races, chatting with sponsors and consulting staff, they’d always stay with one team for a season. Be it a successful one or one on the decline - they didn’t judge in any way. They’d frequently chat with Niki Lauda, seeing him grow old over the years was rough but they were very glad to have him around. He was still a man of the old mindset, less caring about their origins and more about their personality. And money, after all, finance was his origin.

That day in 1994, they sat with the Benetton mechanics. Benneton was a great team for them to be around, so young and riddled with fresh ideas and talent. Niki Lauda, a frequent yet unseen guest was visiting them again. He didn’t care too much for the team, just appearing for their old friend.

Slowly he settled onto one of the chairs they had placed around, letting out a sigh. “Y/N, truly am I jealous of you sometimes.”

Y/N laid their head to the side, grinning. Their currently very fashionable pinned up hair falling to the side. They were such a victim to trends, always following along or partaking. Trends were a good way to hide or disappear under.

“Aging sucks, you know that?” Niki cursed, sorting his iconic red hat.

With a chuckle, Y/N punched his shoulder. “Shouldn't you head back to Ferrari? You’re their advisor, not ours. And I bet you 20 Mark that nobody wants the enemy in their pit.”

He looked at her with an offended face. “This old man walks all the way to meet you and what do you do? Tell me to fuck off. Also ‘not ours’? You change allegiances faster than underwear.”

They shook their head. “Niki, you know how it is. I can’t stay long anywhere. Also, what are you talking about, old man? What are you, barely 45?”

“I look old compared to you, you know. This face doesn’t make me look like an icon of vitality.”

“Can’t you send Gerhard over? He’s more fun than you.”

Niki cursed again. Y/N would always tease him like that.

With a serious expression he turned towards them again. “That Schumacher..”

“Go on Niki, speak your words.”

“You are very annoying, did anyone tell you that?”

"Absolutely. Stirling Moss would always banter with me.”

He cursed again. “Anyway, that Schumacher guy. Has he got a long contract? Because I think we could use a driver like that. Jean isn’t the youngest anymore and Gerhard also could use a break, I think.”

“Want to steal our driver? No way in hell! Leave right now!”

Y/N jokingly lifted Niki out of his chair, taking one of the brooms to shoo him away. He came to a quick standstill, however. His face was serious again. “Y/N, i’ve known you awhile. Whenever you stay so glued to a team, something happens. What will-”

His words were cut off by them whistling a tune. The chain by Fleetwood Mac.

He sighed, finally leaving.

Y/N took the chance to head into the garage, “What’s Upping” a few of the mechanics and sending Michael a nod. Finally they had reached their target, young reserve driver Jos Verstappen. Or half reserve driver, since Benneton originally had set their horses on JJ Lehto. He was just lacing up his boots, looking in the air with a concentrated expression. He knew this race would not be his to shine. This was the German GP of 1994, the homerace of driver number 1, Michael Schumacher.

They just padded his shoulder with a constrained expression. Jos knew, this meant something bad would happen. He hoped it just wouldn't hit him.

As destiny however had planned before his prayers, he was the one incurring it’s wrath. Refueling gone wrong, his body on fire. Y/N had stood in the pits watching, the flames reflecting on their eyes. Afterwards Niki had approached them again, his lips pressed into a stern line. “Will there be more of this crap, this season?”

Y/N looked up at him in pain. “You better steel your heart Lauda. Because I already did.”

Multiple smaller incidents but nothing could overshadow the pain left in everyone's hearts. The loss of Senna and Ratzenberger. Afterwards, Niki had reconsidered his friendship with Y/N. They were almost like a harbinger of doom. In some way it was comforting however. He knew they’d tell him if he were to get hurt.

In 1997, at one such Grand Prix he had seen them again. The hairs on his arms standing up, cold shivers running down his back. Y/N just comforted them. “Nothing bad this time, Niki. I’m here to meet our future.”

“Our future?” He asked.

“Come and see” was their reply, leading the dazzled man up to the Tyrrel pit box. There, a soft baby's cry could be heard. A little red faced thing was there, wrapped into a soft blanket, looking very young.

“Hello Jos!” Y/N had exclaimed. “I brought a friend to see your youngling!”

The man had looked up in surprise at Niki Lauda standing there, staring at his son. “Uhm.” With a still unsure expression he slowly lifted the babe up. “Nice to meet you, Niki. This is my Son, MaxEmilian.”

Niki took the baby for a moment, just as unsure as the fresh baked father before handing it to Y/N. They gingerly held it, staring into those little, still so young looking eyes. Their eyes darting towards Jos for a moment before going back to little Max. “You will have a hard early life, little one. I wish I could help you but I cannot, always destined to be a bystander.” They lifted one of the fingers which the baby seemed to follow. “But I know that you will prevail, proving yourself. If there’s anyone that can be considered our future, that’ll be you.”

5 years later at the Japanese Grand Prix, Y/N was seen sitting in the Minardi Hospitality. There they were playing with a little child, just a bit red faced than before. Max was pushing the vintage toy cars that Y/N had given them around. Niki stood beside them, judging those cars.

“Y/N, did you buy them in an antique shop?”

“Antique?” They were offended. “I only bought them a few years ago, I just knew I’d need them.”

“Define ‘a few years ago’. I know you and I count in very different ways.”

They seemed to ponder. “I remember buying them with Giles, back when he heard he was going to be a father. So uh.. Maybe thirty?”

“God Y/N…”

“Wait, that’s the wrong ones. Those i gave to Michael for Mick. These are others.”

Niki cursed again. “Y/N, please. Consider my blood pressure.”

“I think i remember. It’s only a few more years. It was Graham who had picked them out, you know. I don’t have taste in such things.”

He pinched the skin between his eyebrows, sighing loudly. “I really wish you would act reasonable once in your life.”

“I definitely did that once before at least.”

“Tell me then!”

“I’d rather not. The date might shock you.”

"Goddammit."

At that moment, two kinds of toy cars hit their leg. Little Max had encountered little Mick who was barely out and about. Both had combined their set of race cars, now pretending to play ‘Grand Prix’ with a route made out of tossed cable ties and napkins. Most likely, Max was actively playing cars and Mick was just pushing things around with a little toddler grin on his face. “Y/N, you’re in the way!” Little Max complained with an angry voice, letting his car repeatedly drive against their legs.

They looked up in surprise. “Sorry Max, I’m moving.”

Stepping to the side, Niki questioned again. “Y/N, why are you stuck to these kids?”

They sighed. “They’ll have it rough, in different ways.”

“Doesn't everybody?”

“Oh Niki, you just don’t know.”

“Well obviously, I can’t know if you don’t tell me.” Y/N tried to interject. “I know, I know. You can’t tell me. We’ve been through this spiel many times.

That day, Y/N had left for quite a while. They’d stayed at Jaguar when Niki was there, stayed with Red Bull for a moment. Then they disappeared from the scene, only returning in 2015. It was the first race of the season and there they stood, right before the Toro Rosso hospitality, requesting to go in. Some youngin checking passes looked at them in confusion. “Sorry, uhm… You can’t go in. That pass, it’s ancient, you know. Gotta update it.”

Y/N stared at their entrance pass in confusion. Bernie Ecclestone had given it to them right after his takeover. Full access to everything. “I can’t even scan it! And look at that paper. Where’d you even drag this old thing out from?”

Y/N was purely baffled, eyes trained on the young man ahead. Things really had changed. As they wanted to speak up, one of the older employees noticed them standing there. He was still there from the good old Minardi Days.

“Y/N, is that you?”

He cursed, approaching them. “Dang, people were right. You really don’t change.”

They chuckled while the youngin stared in confusion.

“Go away, Peter. Maybe get this badge remade. Don’t worry about it, the FIA knows what’s going on. At least I hope so?”

The youngin quickly rushed off. This whole thing was way too strange for him.

“So Y/N, what finally made you return? We’ve all turned old.” He said, patting his now well shaped stomach.

“I heard Max is making his Grand Prix debut today. I came to greet him.”

The man chuckled. “Right. Him and little Mick were always your favourites. Come, I’ll lead you.”

The new pit had awed Y/N. So much technology, so many things with a different appearance becoming almost unrecognizable. Yet there in the back stood a person they were sure to always recognise.

“Hello Max, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Max jumped up as he heard that voice. His face was full of surprise, eyes so wide.

“Y-Y/N”

Said person smiled.

“It’s been ages! Where have you been?”

“Here and there, you know. Seeing more of the world.”

Max looked at them again, his eyes shaking. “It’s my F1 debut today, you know…”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“Really? For me?” he looked so hopeful, deep lyiing hurt glittering in his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Then-”

Before finishing he rushed away, returning with a little beat up Box. “Look!”

He opened the Box, revealing a few now very beat up toy boxes and letters.

“Thank you for these, Y/N. They helped me stay true to my goal. Keeping my focus.”

His eyes were shaking now, watering. Y/N just spread their arms in response, cradling him like a child. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d get here, one way or another. And now look at you? That young and in a league with all these old guys.”

Max sniffled, holding her tightly. “Mom told me not to go with unknown adults.”

“What, I’m definitely a trusted adult.”

Back at the beginning of 2018, Y/N had left the Red Bull Team to stay with Mercedes. Max had understood, knowing Y/N had their reasons to do things. Niki had cursed when he saw them again.

“I really look like your grandfather now.”

He sighed, sitting down again. “I’m old and tired, Y/N.”

They smiled sadly. “I’m aware.”

His face turned sad as well. “Your prophecies were so true again. I sometimes wish you’d use them in a different way. Little Max and Mick would both experience hardship.”

Y/N had their lips pulled into a thin line again. Niki looked at her with an angry expression. “I know you well enough, seeing you appear means something will happen here.”

He huffed. “This time I’m ahead of you. I know I’m not well. My body…It’s reached its limit, hasn’t it? I’ve defied fate so many times but everyone got their limit.”

Y/N patted the almost 70 year old man on the shoulder. Their smile turned more comforting. “Could you greet Wolfgang for me? Tell him that I still sing that little song he taught me?”

“Scheiße, what do you think? That i’m the social services? Do that yourself! I refuse. You can do that on the day fate picks you up.”

That was the last time they had spoken.

Niki passed away in 2019. That was the first and only time Max Verstappen had seen them the cry. The all so stoic Y/N had broken down, crying on his shoulder. Max, unsure of what to do, patted their back like you’d do to a dog.

When 2021 came, Y/N was back to mad cheering. Max was Champion after all!

The party was mad. Everyone was crying, sniffling and drinking. Kelly had brought Penelope with her who was like a little sun in the restaurant. Max himself was shining just as much, lifting his trophy repeatedly and as much as he could lift the alcohol anyone was willing to pour him.

When night came and Penelope was tired, Kelly had carried her outside, beckoning Y/N to follow her.

Her face looked serious as she looked at them. “What are you, Y/N?”

They tilted their head again. “What do you mean, Kelly?”

“I remember you, though others apparently don’t. Or they do and just accept you without a second thought. When dad took me to the races, I saw you there. You are the same as you were back them. Your hair’s different but that’s it.”

Y/N hummed. It was Wolfgang’s Melody.

Kelly frowned when no answer was coming. “Then at least tell me this, will you hurt any of us?”

“Hurt?” Y/N looked on, offended. “I’ve never hurt a fly.”

“Then…” Kelly continued. “Why are you here?”

Y/N pondered before fishing around their pockets. “I’m immortal. I am Fate. Make of that what you will.” They then produced a little toy car, just of the same kind as Max had gotten years ago. “Give this to P once she’s awake, will you?”

Kelly just nodded. Y/N left.

Max missed them dearly. After his win, nothing of Y/N could be seen or heard. He’d asked the old mechanics and they all said the same to him. “They’ll appear when they want to.”

That’s how Max grew older and older, never seeing them again.

Slowly but surely the mysterious figure escaped from the back of his mind, not of importance to his successful life.

Everything crashed down when his father passed away. Max started spiraling, his entire life was planned and decided by Jos. How exactly should he go on now?

At the funeral, he saw them. Approaching with a delicate umbrella over their head, dressed in vintage funeral gear.

Max stared in shock, never expecting to see them again.

Y/N stared at the fresh grave, placing down a little wreath of flowers. “Jos, I really wish I could punch you. But alas, I can’t. Fate caught you as well.”

Max hesitated, staring at them. Instead of speaking, Y/N just engulfed him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, Max. I can’t interfere with your life much more. I wish I could but this is beyond me.”

From there, he once again didn’t see them again. Years passed, Seasons changed. His hair grew gray, his skin got wrinkly and his body heavy.

With a nice summer day rolling around he laid in his bed, his grandchildren had just left the room, window open and curtain fluttering. Max stared at the shaking curtain, once again getting surprised by a voice. “Hello Max.”

He slowly turned to the side, spotting Y/N sitting on the chair that had just been sat on by Penelope. They were dressed like he remembered during his childhood, their face sad.

“Hello, Y/N.” His voice was silent, weak.

“Has my time come?”

A sniffle rang out as Y/N leaned forward to touch his hand.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “I see.”

The silence was surprisingly comfortable. “Can you tell me now, what you are? I’m about to die anyway so…”

Y/N chuckled. “Always the smart boy, you were.”

They got up, their appearance changing to something ancestral. “I’m immortal. You could also call me Fate.”

“Fate…” Max rolled the words around on his tongue. “So will I see you in the afterlife?”

Y/N lowered their eyelashes. “If Destiny decides to release me from my duties, possibly. I cannot see my own path. Will you greet Niki for me?”

Max nodded again, folding his hands.

“I will. It was great to see you again.”

Akin to a sigh, Y/N saw his soul depart. With a tear running down their face they settled back onto the chair.

“I knew you’d be great. I just knew…”

And you're a cherry blossom

You're about to bloom

You look so pretty, but you're gone so soon

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Find more at my Masterlist!

#Max verstappen & reader #niki lauda & reader #blerb writes

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flatoutin-eaurouge · 5 months ago

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Birthday boy

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

Happy Birthday to my fave! 🥰 I feel so bad about the sad Mika birthday, but Michael is there to console him and cheer him up 🥰

He watched them go by. One by one. Red, green, yellow, blue: the bright colours of the Formula One 1993 season. Despite his red and white McLaren issued clothing, he was only staring at the yellow and green rocketship. Glued to the fence next to the McLaren pit wall. Part of the the team but not "part of the team", like a fifth wheel on a Formula One car. Useless. Extra load and no function.

The yellow and green Benneton blazed past him again. The sheer speed of the car almost blending the colours a lime green. The colours reminded him of his former team Lotus. A year ago when he was still racing. When he was still sharing a track with twenty plus cars. Right now he was only driving circles and straight lines on airstrips, testing road cars with Johnny Palmer, or racing all by himself on an empty circuit. His only opponent the clock.

He followed the lime coloured car with narrow eyes. Maybe it was instinct. He wasn't here to support his team. He couldn't care less about Ayrton or Andretti. He wanted to chase the lime car... or rather, the person driving it. Like three years ago. Macau 1990.

He didn't hold a grudge towards Michael Schumacher. He deserved a seat and did not make a stupid "gamble move" like himself. Mika was jealous of him... sure, but in a good way. Not because he didn't grant Michael a F1 seat. He just wanted to join him so badly.

After their suspicion towards each other during their Formula Three days, they had become friends really quickly as soon as they were reunited in F1. They were both just "boys" in a grown men world. They shared experiences with each other, spent downtime with each other. Just appreciated each other's company. Of all people on the grid, Michael came closest to what he would call a "friend".

He couldn't wait to celebrate his birthday with his Formula One friend. Despite not racing at the weekend himself, Mika had chosen to celebrate his birthday in the paddock. He remembered how much fun his birthdays were at Lotus. Besides that, he felt that he was too old to go home and celebrate his birthday with mom and dad.

By the time the qualification was nearing its ending, Mika had the metal bars of the fence imprinted on his face in red lines. He felt like a caged animal. Like a wild beast, but with the outward appearance of a particulary golden-haired breed of puppy.

As he made his way back to the garage, he walked past Ron, who ruffled his hair fatherly and smiled at him like he knew more about the next step in his career. Ron kept telling him it wouldn't be long. It was September - the end of the season was approaching and Mika was slowly losing patience. Ron must have felt it, because he wrapped his arm around his protégé's neck and pulled him against his frame.

"Did you enjoy watching the qualification?"

Mika frowned. "No."

Ron chuckled. "You don't like to watch from the sidelines? Thats okay, Mika. You don't have to get used to it."

It frustrated Mika that Ron Dennis never gave him clarity. He never mentioned a date or a grand prix he would be given a chance. He knew he was much quicker than Andretti and it had nothing to do with misplaced arrogance.

Later that evening he walked back to his hotel. He didn't have a motorhome. He wasn't "part of the team" like that. He was forced to sleep away from the paddock and his card was the only thing giving him access to the terrain.

He sat down on his bed and stared at the floor with a blank expression. If he would end up like this at exactly the same time tomorrow, his birthday would be completely ruined. He wiped a hand through his blonde hair and tried to blink away the sudden wetness in his eyes. What the hell? There was no reason to cry... yet?

He stared at the black brick on his night stand. The phone his parents would probably call him on the next morning... maybe Keke... maybe the girl he met a few nights ago if she remembered... but not Michael. Michael didn't have his phone number. A shame.

It was the next morning. Of all people he thought there was a possibility they would call him, only his parents did. Mom and dad were very proud of him and loved him dearly.

"Mika, kulta, I'm so sad you don't come home to celebrate your birthday with us anymore," his mother cried. "I'm looking at your baby photos right now. You were such a sweet little pumpkin."

Mika grimaced. He was partly glad his mother wasn't here to celebrate with him in the McLaren garage, because the baby talk and the embarassing stories would definitely be shared with his collegues.

"Keijo send you a birthday card. He is on holiday as you know. He wasn't sure whether to send it to Monaco or Vantaa, but he thought the message would reach you sooner from here."

Mika smiled. Keke wasn't the most empathetic person but that was very thoughtful of him. He had a great relationship with his manager after all.

"Is it fun over there?"

Mika rubbed his forehead. "Well, beside you and dad, no one really called me."

"Oh, darling. Did Mika Salo or Jyrki call you?"

"No, I hope to see JJ at the track today."

"Okay, have fun today, sweetheart! Grandma sends you a hug and a kiss."

"Thanks. Will see you soon."

He hung up the phone and stood up, stretching his limbs. Ready to get dressed. Dressed into his "civilian clothes". He missed packing his race suit for weekends like these.

As he made it to track an hour later, he was glad the journalists didn't give shit about him. He could freely walk to the McLaren garage, but he was unpleasantly surprised by how none of the drivers he knew from his active Formula One years seemed to acknowledge him.

Fine, he didn't know every driver's birthday either, but still...

As he walked past Jyrki Järvilehto and waved at him with a big radiant smile, JJ seemed to quicken his pace.

"Hi, JJ!" Mika quickly called after him to get him to notice his younger compatriot. "Jyrki wait! How are you?"

The tall blonde stopped for a moment and seemed a bit annoyed by the disruption. "Hello, Mika. I'm fine, thanks."

"I hope you do well today. How is you car doing?"

"Mika, I don't have time right now. They're waiting for me. I have to get ready for the race, you know."

"Right." Mika's shoulders slumped. His smile turned into a pout and he started to blink rapidly with his eyes. He could at least remember his birthday, right?

"Jyrki, do you know what day it is?"

"Race day," the older Finn replied curtly and turned his back on him.

Mika stood there watching him go. His cheeks turned red in shame and he had to concentrate to resist the urge to cry. He felt like such a loser, because no one seemed to be having time for him.

It was no different at the McLaren garage. Ron had his own way of celebrating birthdays. Luckily he did not "announce" Mika's birthday in a full packed garage. The consequence was that no one really knew about it. So it was quiet and a day like all others.

Ron took him apart, and together with race engineer Steve Hallam they shared a table at the McLaren canteen. Ron had given him the most boring birthday cake ever. Just one piece of cake with a small swirl of clotted cream and a little candle on it.

He felt like a little kid sharing the table with these balding men. No Ayrton or Andretti in sight. Mika did however appreciate it a lot, because Ron really cared about him in his own boring special way.

"Are you enjoying today?" Ron asked him with a smile.

Mika shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." He didn't feel like sharing his negative experiences from this morning.

"Good! I have a gift for you."

Ron rummaged in a plastic bag and shoved a small box wrapped in grey wrapping paper over the table into his direction.

"Happy Birthday, Mika! We are very happy to have you on the team. I foresee a big future for you!"

Mika smiled at him. "Thank you, Ron." He grabbed the box and started to unwrap the little package. Inside was a little replica of the McLaren road car he tested this summer in Sicily.

"Oh, it's very nice!" Mika turned the car around in his hands. "Almost hit 400 km/h with that thing. Thank you."

Ron grabbed Mika's wrist and stared at him intently. "I know what you're thinking... That should be the MP4/8. I will give you one for when you drive your first grand prix for us. This road car test is a small step in your development. Every small step counts."

"The MP4/8? So that means... this season?" Mika blinked at his team boss with his big blue puppy eyes.

"Don't be so curious, boy. You will find out when it happens."

After they finished their boring birthday cake, they parted ways and Mika was on his own again. He stuffed the McLaren replica in his jacket pocket and took a stroll around the paddock, getting painfully used to the idea of no one remembering his birthday.

He just went on with it like a responsible adult, but deep down his little heart ached.

He was the kind of guy to get overly excited about festive days. He was very thoughtful when it came to other people's birthdays. He spent weeks brainstorming about gifts and wrapping paper. He messaged people at midnight to be "the first" to congratulate them. He wrote long meaningful texts in birthday cards. He made sure to select the festive ones when he was foiling through his post stamps.

Mika's lips turned into a pout as he was staring at the empty paddock. Keke's holiday was truly bad timing. At least his manager could have arranged a birthday lunch and rope JJ into coming. Maybe he could have forced his compatriot to buy him a nice present.

Mika heard the sounds of the engines on the grid starting. The race was about to start. He decided to forget about the people who had forgotten about him and stared at the yellow and green car again. Michael had a permit. He had done nothing wrong. He did not have Mika's phone number and he did not cross paths with Mika in the paddock this morning.

Mika had high hopes for after the race... maybe he would even go and look for the German himself. There was no way Michael would have forgotten about his birthday too, after the efforts Mika had put in for his birthday on January the 3rd at the beginning of this year.

This afternoon was a repetition of yesterday afternoon. Mika was glued to the fence to follow the action on the track, wishing he was among the participating drivers. The replica of the McLaren road car burned inside his pocket. It reminded him painfully how his career was put on hold. Ron's words suddenly hurt him: "This road car test is a small step in your development. Every small step counts." - It was a bloody step backard! A step backward he felt he didn't deserve!

The cars blazed past him, making his hair wave in the sudden gust of wind. He loved the wind in his hair and resisted the urge to smoothen it back down in it's usual position. Every lap they passed him, his hair was rearranged by the airflow.

He stared at the electronic board that broadcasted the current positions on the grid. Mika smiled when he saw Michael on P1. See Ron! Young people in Formula One are not a gamble!

The type of jealousy he felt was purely based on missing out on battles with "the Michael". On missing out oppertunities to gain experience and become better. What did he learn from testing cars? Qualifying, sure... but is the race itself not more important?

He couldn't believe the negative thoughts and feelings of insecurity pestered him today - of all days!

Those negative thoughts accumulated when he realized he couldn't reach a victorious Michael Schumacher after the race. The man was blocked by a wall of journalists.

Mika tried to wave at him, but Michael didn't see him, way too focused on his press duties. Mika realized that he wouldn't be able to celebrate his birthday with Michael through no fault of his own. His rising star was out of reach... literally and figuratively.

It added to the realization that he himself had become a nobody on the grid. At least this meant that he didn't have to fend off journalists on his way to the exit.

He went back to the hotel with tears gleaming in his eyes. He tried to surpress them and keep them from streaming down his face until he had reached his hotel room. He didn't want to be seen crying. Everyone already thought he was "too small" for a big team like McLaren.

He didn't say goodbye to the people in the McLaren garage, he just paced to the exit of the paddock. Next year he will go home to Vantaa to celebrate with mom and dad, grandma and the neighborhood kids he hadn't seen in so many years.

He stared in the mirror of the hotel elevalor and was faced with a broken soul. He noticed the damp tracks on his cheeks, and realised holding back his tears had been to no avail. It was not the first time he cried as an adult and he knew it wouldn't be the last time.

The key of his room trembled in his hand as he tried to open the lock. He pushed the door open in frustration and fell face down on the soft duvet of his bed. He yanked the metal replica of the McLaren road car from his pocket and wanted to throw it, but halted almost instantly. Instead he carefully placed it on his nightstand.

He wanted to fall asleep with his clothes on and skip a lonely dinner. Why was he so hurt by people forgetting about his birthday? He wasn't a child anymore!

Big fat tears streamed down the sides of his face and soaked into the pillow. He was considering calling his parents to atleast have a little conversation with them.

As he propped himself up om his elbows to reach for the phone, a buzzer echoed through his room. He startled... the intercom!

He got up from the bed and walked to the little device hanging on his wall. He pressed the tiny red button to speak and tried to keep his voice as steady as he could.

"This is room 210. Yes?"

"Hello, Sir. There is a mister Schumacher here to see you."

Mika felt his heart skip a beat. Was Michael really here to see him? Was he here to celebrate with him? A sudden warm blush on his cheeks evaporated the tracks of his tears.

"Send him up. Thank you."

Mika rushed to his bathroom to try and erase the hints of sadness from his face. He looked into the mirror and carded a hand through his messy blonde locks. A little panicked he started searching for his comb and hair gel. Michael could be here any minute!

He combed his hair, then stuck his face under the cold tap water to get rid of his puffy eyes and red nose. The cold water calmed him, but his heart rate went up again when he heard a soft knock on his door.

"Give me a second." He rubbed a towel over his face, hoping that his efforts had been succesful.

He rushed to the door of his room and opened it with an enthousiastic sway. "Michael!"

The German immediately went for a hug, taking the Finn in his arms and clapping him on his back. "Congrats, Mika!"

Mika sighed, completely relaxing in Michael's lingering hold. Not at all questioning how long the hug lasted. "Congrats to you too! Fantastic drive today!"

Michael squeezed his shoulder as he slowly let go of him. "Twenty-five! That means you're allowed to drink now." He conjured up the bottle of Moët champagne he had hidden behind his back.

Mika rolled with his eyes. "Funny guy! You don't know how Finnish kids are raised eh?"

Michael chuckled. He showed Mika the cork, still covered in its golden wrapping. "Did you see the podium?"

"No, unfortunately I did not."

"Well, I kept the bottle closed. Nobody knows that I did it for you. But I did it for you, because you should be up there with me! It's a crime that they put you in a test car." He suddenly noticed how Mika was tearing up. Little tears pearled down the Finn's pale cheeks.

"Hey," Michael rested a hand on Mika's shoulder. "Don't cry. What happened?"

Mika's throat was screwed thight. He shook his head. "Nothing, just a bit tired."

Michael's hand slid down to his elbow as he started to direct the Finn towards the little sofa in the corner of his room. "Sit down and talk. Something is wrong. You shouldn't be crying on your birthday."

Mika sighed, rubbing his eyes as his shoulders shook on the rhythm of his sobs. "You're very kind, Michael," he hiccupped. "Very kind. I wish more people were like you."

Michael reached out his hand to wipe a tear off the Finn's cheekbone. "It's not like I did something special. It's your birthday. What's the matter? Are you okay?" He started caressing Mika's back, rubbing soothing circle over the fabric of his shirt.

Mika stared at the floor, too choked up to say anything. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed about being so vulnerable in front of Michael. Embarassed about tearing up so quickly. Embarrassed about being a test car driver.

Michael gently held his face between two hands, trying to look into those saphire pools of tears. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, mein Hübscher."

Mika needed an outlet. The German was clearly not taking advantage of his vulnerability. He was not laughing at him. He was extremely kind, genuine, and caring. He shouldn't be afraid to tell him what he went through today.

"I had a shit birthday, Michael! My parents were the only people who called me in the morning. Ron had organised a very childish and boring birthday party. It was very kind but the setting was horrible. You know, two balding men giving me advises and trying to justify that I had to take a step back. Trying to 'sell' that being a test driver is good for my development. And an - I hope not, but I am afraid - former friend who completely ignored me."

Mika's tears dropped to the floor beneath them. "I can't help that I care about birthdays and nice gestures. One shouldn't feel lonely during a birthday."

Michael had started caressing Mika's soft blonde locks, trying to calm him. He stroked a strand of golden hair behind his rival's ear. "I feel so sorry for you, Mika. Know that I'm here for you! I'm still grateful for the fun day I had in January."

Mika smiled at him through his tears. "You are a true friend, Michael. I am glad you had fun in January."

Michael reached out for Mika again, taking him in a warm embrace. "Dry your tears, Mika. How do you want us to celebrate your birthday? I thought about celebrating at the hotel bar or go out and get wasted, but if you want to stay here I completely understand."

Mika wiped his tears away with the hem of his shirt and stood up. He carded a hand through his hair. "Getting wasted sounds fun!" He let his eyes roam over Michael, who was dressed in a black shirt with the top buttons undone. "You look very dashing by the way. I like the fit. I can't have you walk around looking like that with an under-dressed vagabond like me."

He walked to his closet and took off his McLaren issued polo shirt, chucking it to the floor.

Michael blinked with his eyes, taken aback by how at ease Mika was with him in close proximity. Firstly he was staring blatantly at the Finn's fit and slender upper body, before he strategically directed his gaze towards something else in the room... a lamp, what a nice looking lamp! The blush on his face, betrayed how his mind was occupied with something else than a piece of furniture.

"Let's go," Mika called, as soon as he had finnished buttoning up his marine blue shirt. "I'm glad you are here, Michael. We're going to have some fun! I promise no tears!"

Michael smiled at the Finn. He stretched out his arm and let it rest on top of Mika's shoulders. "I trust you to keep that promise! All I want is to see you smile."

#makkinen #mika häkkinen #michael schumacher #mika hakkinen #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1fanfic

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