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saintescuderia · 26 days ago

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STUCK ON THE PUZZLE // DR3

(a pancakes! one-shot)

AKA - how daniel's famed 2018 monaco win was the beginning of the end

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: hi there. apologies for being mia. lot of life changes. here's something i started pre-hiatus. also shout out to dr3, mans had such an impact on my life. the prince who would've been king. words: 9.6k (strap yourself in kids) warnings: angst. like a whole lot. breakup. bit of cheating. etc. (was cathartic to write tbh)

You loved Daniel.

You had loved Daniel with your whole being.

Because Daniel was not someone to take half-heartedly. People either loved him or hated him - there was no in between. And when you first properly met Daniel, sticking chopsticks under the gums of his mouth to make a young Max Verstappen laugh after a bad race, you found your mouth falling open at the sight of such person.

“Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel!” He had smiled with his whole face, eyes crinkling even all those years ago when the sun had yet made its mark on his face. A younger, fresh-faced Daniel still smiled with his whole being. Seeing Daniel smile made it feel as if the sun had decided to stop shining on the world - and, instead, focus all its rays onto you. A singular sort of warmth filled you from head to toe as you met the famous Red Bull driver who somehow made everything around him a few shades lighter, warmer, more yellow.

Love.

You fell in the category of people that loved Daniel Ricciardo.

To say that you fell in love then and there would be an insult for the love that steadily grew within you for the beautiful boy who lit up your entire world. Because he did. Every time you walked into a room and found him there, you found yourself able to breathe easier. It was as if you finally could gasp at air, unaware you had been holding your breath until then, until you saw him.

When you would later talk to your therapist about it all, you would compare to when you were younger and had really bad asthma.

“Daniel was like my puffer. I could breath easier around him.” You had said. “Now it just feels like I’m drowning again.”

The first time you had properly hung out with Daniel, it was because of Max. Your best friend had dragged you to some campfire that Daniel was having with a bunch of his friends. You felt awkward and out of place since Daniel had invited Max - not you. Still, Max was adamant you come. At the very least, you could keep each other company. Or so Max had argued by way of finally convincing you.

And so you followed Max through the nice looking beach house Daniel had rented out. It was even more picturesque with the sun that was just about to set. Your grip on the two cases of beer you had brought with you now becoming a lifeline as the social anxiety set in.

Walking closer, you heard music. Soft strums of a guitar playing. It was interrupted by a loud round of raucous laughter. You took a deep breath.

Daniel was playing the guitar. He was laughing. And you finally exhaled.

God, he looked beautiful. There was no other way to describe him.

Your crush aside, even a blind man had to admit it. The whole scene of him was beautiful. To this day, you could paint the picture clear as ever. The black and white striped Stüssy shirt, the bright pink board shorts and the bare feet. Tattoos spotted all over his body.

He was sitting right in the middle of everyone, a half drunk corona light - lime, not lemon - pushed in the neck of the beer bottle by his tattooed thigh. The flickering lights of the dancing flames shining on his tanned skin as the sun continued its slow decent to the horizon behind him.

“Ah, here they are!” Daniel said, putting the guitar away as he spotted you and Max. His smile grew and he stood up to dap Max. You, however, were awkward as fuck. You gave a general wave to everyone else, the boys nodding or holding up their beer in greeting. You suddenly realised how there were all guys here and felt even more out of place.

But then Daniel turned to look at you.

“Uh, hey. I brought more beer.” You immediately said because you weren’t sure what else to say.

“Oh, thank you! Legend!” Daniel said, taking them from you and setting them down. He then turned to give you a hug and you found yourself holding back. His arm went right around you and you wanted nothing more than to that just melt into him. Did everyone find him this cuddly?

“Did you find the place alright?”

It took you a second to realise he was asking you, and not Max. Daniel’s eyes were on you. His big brown eyes and the wide smile, teeth and all. On you.

“Uh, yeah. Actually no.” You said, realising you were just on auto pilot and needed to snap out of the nerves. “Max wouldn’t listen to my directions.”

“Tsk, Maxie. You need to listen to her. Look what listening to her got you.” Daniel said to the boy behind you who was now sat, holding a beer. Max had recently been upgraded from Torro Rosso to Red Bull and, as such, now went to social events like Daniel Ricciardo's private hang outs.

Though why Max made you come with him was beyond you.

“You’re lucky to have a trainer like this one, mate.”

You had to steel yourself from that compliments Daniel was giving you. You watched him open the esky and dump the beers you had bought into it. He then pulled a cold bottle out and opened it to shove a lime into the neck. Daniel then turned to you, hand slightly outstretched. “I’m gonna guess beer is okay since you brought more?”

“Yeah, no worries.” You said even though you were trying to cut and technically weren't supposed to drink. It was one of the many reasons you thought it not fitting to come but Max had just dismissed a hand anyway.

You watched Daniel use a keychain to open the bottle lid and felt the need to also explain, “Max kept saying I should come but I didn't realise it would be all guys and - ” You were interrupted as Daniel handed you the drink. “- oh, thank you.”

“Don’t worry. I wanted you to come. I told Max to bring you.”

“You… oh.” You found yourself unable to form a response at that. Your body did that for you. Your cheeks warming up with the blush that set in.

“Yeah. You’re cool. And we always have fun so it’s nice to shoot the shit outside of the garage and all the cameras of the Paddock.” Daniel said. “But, uh yeah my bad. I hope you don’t mind us guys. All these guys are lame and don’t have any girlfriends.” He raised his voice, aiming the last part at his friends who were all sitting just to the side.

One of his friends flipped him off. “Oi mate, neither do you!”

“Yet.” Another said quietly, taking a sip of his beer as he did so. The friend beside him laughed. You found yourself blushing even more and you wanted to meet Max’s eyes - but the idiot was too busy looking up at the sky.

Fuck's sake, Verstappen.

“Anyway, listen since we finally have a girl here you can give us advice.” One of the boys called out as you came to sit down. You ignored how Daniel didn’t go back to where he was sitting before, opting to sit next to you on a log that was definitely too small for two people. “So our mate Tommy here is slowly falling into the friend-zone. Tell him what he needs to do.”

And so the night passed where you hung out with Daniel Ricciardo and his friends. The sensitive soul, Tommy, who was in love with his neighbour. The trainer Blake who had known Daniel since they were both three years old - and it showed in how many inside jokes they had. The cousin Corey, who worked as a teacher and was a serious lightweight. Then, of course, there was Max. You hadn’t realised how close Daniel and Max had gotten but seeing them outside of racing suits put a new perspective on their friendship with how integrated Max was with the rest of Daniel’s friends.

It all made the imposter syndrome deepen. Even though the boys included you in the jokes and explained the context behind all their stories, you couldn’t get it out of your head. Why were you here exactly?

And so on the drive back home, you grilled Max. Incessantly.

“Daniel called me said if you would be down. I said yes.” Max explained. “Maybe it was a mistake. Were you that uncomfortable?”

“Yes. No. They were all guys.” Your response was pathetic at best. That reason wasn’t justification enough. Most of your social circles lay in cars and sports. As such, Max gave you an odd look and you shook your head. The universe, as if to prove the point, Charles’ name came up on the car screen as your phone started buzzing.

You pressed decline and huffed. Max gave you another suspicious look. “I’ll call him later. I just — “

“What?”

“I like Daniel!” You finally snapped, saying It. “Alright, Max. I like him. And it’s fucking awkward. I can’t hang out with him like I would with you and Charles and the whole thing is fucking messing with me. We work together, he’s your teammate. More than that, he's Daniel fucking Ricciardo.” You finished with a huff. You ran a hand over your face and took another breath. “So next time he asks you just say no."

“Why?” Max asked calmly, not commenting about your abrupt mental break down. Or even the fact that you had just admitted you liked his teammate.

“Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you. I don’t agree with you. At least, not for those reasons.” Max said. “You and Daniel are cut from the same cloth. I can see it happening. He might need to grow up a little but…” Max pursed his lips. “It’s you and Daniel.”

“Well there's the big thing about him not ever liking me back.” The tone of retort was a harsh but Max ignored it.

“Who says he doesn’t?” Max said with a shrug and a smile. “I mean, he asked me to bring you there. Daniel never brings just anyone to those things."

You were silent, pressing your lips together. You couldn’t — Daniel was — what? Daniel didn’t like you. Daniel was just a nice guy. That was — no. You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that fact. You had been crushing on Daniel for how long now? From before you even started working at Torro Rosso and saw a charming Australian grinning widely on the podium beside Seb. You’d always noticed Daniel.

It was Daniel.

Daniel remembers all too well the first time he really noticed you.

You had been walking by yourself in the Paddock. It had been a windy day and your hair, curls and all, were blowing from the wind. Music had been playing from the headphones Daniel had kept over his ears during the trip to Paddock.

Now, as he watched you, two things happened simultaneously.

Alex Turner’s voice fills his ears with the lyric: “I’m not the kind of fool whose gonna sit and sing to you about stars, girl.”

His brain buzzes with a sole thought passing through his mind: 'God, she’s beautiful.'

He blinked and pulled down his headphones. Someone called out your name and you turned to look and see that new Torro Rosso kid bounding up to you. Daniel pulled his headphones back up and shook his head. You were in the uniform so he could easily find you later and talk to you but - nah. What would that achieve? If he was going to approach you, it wasn’t to just be mates. He would want your number. He would want - what? A quick fuck? That wasn't uncommon in the Paddock but that could also get messy if you worked in Red Bull's junior team. He didn't know what you'd be like.

All he knew was that you were beautiful.

Maybe that’s why Daniel didn’t know how to act around you. He was nice, perfectly polite. He would joke around - as he did with everyone. But inside he considered the bonus points for every time his jokes brought you to tears. Because he was always secretly waiting to see if you would laugh or not.

Daniel joined you and Max for track walks, he got you a coffee every so often, sprayed the champagne directly at you when he won. Then he give you a big hug as everyone rushed to congratulate him. And he would count the seconds where your arm was around him. He basked in that. He liked hugging you.

But he never asked for your number. He didn’t hit follow when he finally found your Instagram. Which was surprising considering how close you two seemed, how well he got along with you and enjoyed your company.

“Ah, my phone died. Daniel can you call Y/N? And tell her to bring Max with her.” Christian said, sighing at his dead phone that he set on the table. You and Max were late for a briefing meeting.

“Oh, I don’t have her number.” Daniel said. Some people looked at him. Even Christian Horner frowned in surprise.

“What? Oh, uh. Okay. Angela can you try?”

“Sure thing.”

Daniel wasn’t even sure how he got your number. Probably needing to call you for something and Max gave him the number. Or it very well could’ve been Christian giving it to him. Either way, your name was saved in his phone without much intention.

Because he didn’t have any. He couldn’t.

As always, there was just that something missing. He had something missing.

But he liked spending time with you. He liked seeing you rip into Max for not following the routine you’d planned for him. He liked seeing you talk soccer so enthusiastically with Guenther Steiner or that Spanish Toro Rosso kid. He liked how nice you were to hospitality workers and kids. He liked how knew cars and even managed to fix the temperamental engine in his own car once or twice. He liked that you never got starstruck and were honest and straightforward and that the gym was your safe spot. He liked how you wore your hair with a bandana — even if meant you often got in trouble with Christian for the 'creative liberties' you took with the Red Bull uniform. And he really liked seeing you in a hoodie. He knew you often wore them outside F1.

All your interactions had been through Formula 1. Daniel thought about it for five seconds before dropping a message in the group chat during the winter break.

Catch up in the beach villa.

Then he dialled Max’s number. “Hey Max! Are you free this weekend? We’re planning on having a bonfire, you should come.” Then Daniel paused and added, “And, hey, bring Y/N with you.”

It was only a few weeks later that Max finally just asked him the question.

“Why don’t you just date her?” Max said as Daniel watched you talk to that Spanish junior, Carlos Sainz, about some soccer team you both liked. Daniel knew Max’s old teammate had a thing for you but Daniel wasn’t worried. Carlos would’ve made a move by now if he had the balls. Then again, Max’s question pointed out the very same thing about him.

“What?” Daniel asked and then grinned when Max gave him a pointed look. “Ah, Maxie. You’re too young to understand love.”

“I understand that Charles is debuting soon.”

“And?” Daniel asked, puffing his chest. He knew briefly of your connection to another driver, some rich Monaco guy called Charles Leclerc. But you’d always spoken of him like he was your brother. You referred to him as ‘bro.’ From how he understood it, Charles was to you like Blake was to him. Best friends that grew up together.

Evidently not, according to Max. “And I have seen the way Charles looks at her.”

“Yeah?” Daniel said, staring at how Max’s race engineer, GP, called you over and Carlos watched you walk off. Did you not notice this? Carlos was literally all over you.

“Yeah. It’s similar to how you look at her.” Max said with a huff. Daniel considered this and suddenly looked away from Carlos to stare at his own two feet - and the fancy sneakers you had bought him.

“Look, you like her, yes?” Daniel looked up at Max who was watching him, expectant. He nodded. “So what’s the issue? I said it before - you both cut from the same cloth. And I say that when her and Charles grew up together. You and her have something… you’re the same.”

You reappeared with GP beside you, papers in hand that he was clearly reading aloud to you as he gestured to Max’s car ahead of the upcoming race in Germany. You were nodding but then looked up and caught both him and Max looking at you. You smiled widely at them, at him.

From outside the garage, the wind blew, the papers and your hair rustling.

“I’m not the kind of fool whose gonna sit and sing to you about stars, girl…

Daniel stared at you. He liked you. He really, really liked you. And Max had a point.

… But last night I looked up into the dark half of the blue. And they'd gone backwards.”

“Alright, deal.” Daniel said, looking at Max. “If we win today, I’ll make a move.”

“Daniel said that he told Max, ‘If we win today, I’ll make a move.’” You said, looking at the young woman with the notebook in the chair in front of you, “He always liked to leave things to chance and stuff. But, he didn’t win. He came second. Maybe that’s why it failed. Bad luck because he didn’t actually win.” You shifted in your seat, the used tissue in your hands half ripped to shreds.

“Is it not considered a win if they are on the podium?” Your therapist asked, not very aware of the ins and outs of Formula 1.

“No, only if you come first.” You explained. “Then it’s a win. In Hockenheimring, Lewis won. Daniel came second and Max was third.”

Louise, your helpful therapist, jumped in. “But Daniel did say we. So I don't think it mattered much who was first or not."

“So then why would he start something if…” You stopped and found the lump in your throat growing again. You looked down at the tissue that was too ripped up to be of much use. Even with your eyes blurring, you still saw Louise push the tissue box over to you.

“I think that’s the current problem. It’s not very helpful in your state to go down these rabbit holes of if thinking. Because then we can start hypothesising this and that and you’ll fall into more downward spirals.” Louise said. “Any time a thought begins with ‘if’ I want you to try and practice what we said before about curbing those thoughts.”

If.

It was something you thought about a lot.

If, in late July 2016, at the Hockenheimring, Daniel and Max didn’t get on the podium. What would’ve happened then? Would you have still have had the tears in your eyes, feeling like you literally burst from happiness? Would you have stared up at Max filled with love and fondness for the boy who was starting to break through all his past hurt and make it. Seeing Max’s hard work finally pay off and placing on the podium had set you off.

And he was on the podium alongside Daniel.

Daniel who had somehow wormed his way deeper and deeper into your heart with every passing day. Christian Horner had even waived the family exception of your contract for Daniel because there was no way he couldn’t. You and Daniel were attached at the hip - even beyond the scope of you training his teammate.

He had starting joining you in your personal workouts - and now was your workout buddy. He had built up a habit of always asking whoever was sat next to you on the plane to switch. To the point that just last weekend Taylor, a nice PR lady, saw Daniel walk in and immediately started unbuckling her seatbelt to move for him.

Not Max - him.

You went for coffee runs during your break with him, not Max. You complained about your day to him, not Max. You wore his DR3 merch, not Max’s. And even though Max was yet to release any of his own branded merch, there was no denying it.

You fell asleep to Daniel’s voice, not Max’s, sounding through your phone after your call duration ticked over the 2:00:00 mark.

There was always the nagging thought, though. What are we? Where are we going? Daniel had made it clear many times before that he wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, not at all thinking himself mature for those responsibilities.

But then he would send you pictures of him with his nieces and nephews. But then you would spend two hours on the phone even after being around each other all day. But then he would fall asleep on your shoulder half way through the movie - and you didn’t have the heart to get him to move. And so you slept beside him.

You had grown up with the Leclerc boys, all of whom you were super close with. And if you got married tomorrow, you would probably get Max to be your Man of Honour. Being friends with boys was not exactly knew to you.

With Daniel, it was different. From the very first bonfire, you knew it was different. Hanging out with him was different. You did and said things you didn’t share with just anyone.

You shared your thoughts, your dreams. You told him how your missed your father and still hated your mother. You told him about the bullying. You told him about the feeling of hollowness you sometimes felt - and the fear that it would never go away.

“You… you actually make it go away. I never feel it when I’m around you.”

“Then I just need to always be around you, huh.”

Daniel had come 2nd and Max 3rd. You still congratulated Lewis’ 1st place but you were more excited to see your boys and celebrate accordingly. You couldn’t contain yourself seeing them spray the champagne. Your phone was out, snapping as many pictures as possible. In that moment, you felt pure joy. Looking up at them, at your boys, you wanted the moment to never end.

Daniel then leaned into Max and whispered something. He pointed down, down at you. Max followed his hand and suddenly both the Red Bull drivers were looking at you and spraying their champagne directly at you. The people around you cheered and your name was called out amongst all the ruckus of the celebrations.

Everything after that race passed by as a blur. You couldn’t even tell Louise how it happened. The boys had to go to the cooldown room and then the media with the post-race briefing. However, in amidst all of that, you managed to see Daniel.

Still in his race suit, the top half hanging off his hips and his entire body and hair drenched in sweat. Your face lit up seeing him walk towards you.

“Hey, there you are! Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in media? Where’s Max — “

Daniel didn’t even say anything. He just grabbed you and wrapped his arms around you to press his lips against yours. When he eventually pulled back to rest his head on yours, he said something that set you off.

“Okay, what now?”

You should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known back then. It wasn’t even the wishful if thinking. You just should’ve seen it coming when he was asking you what the next move was.

But back then, you were too dumb to know better. Back then, you were still trying to process the kiss, let alone his words. Back then, all you wanted to do was kiss him again.

And so you did.

Being with Daniel reminded you of one key factor - you either loved or hated him. You couldn’t be indifferent to the guy. He was not to be taken lightly. And much like he was not to be taken light, he also himself did not take things lightly.

When he laughed, Daniel laughed with his whole body.

When he cried, Daniel let the sobs wreck through his whole entire being.

No one saw that, though. Daniel never let anyone get close to that side of him. You had come close, but he always still held you at arms length. Even in the peak of everything, when the sun was shining and the flowers smelt sweet and you two were in the utter bliss of the honeymoon period… he always had a part of him that he didn’t let anyone get to. Not even you.

You had tried. Many times. But he wouldn’t.

He would just smile, shake his head and say he was “wired that way.” Then he would shut you off and you would be left to try and pick up the pieces until the door slowly fell ajar once more.

Because you loved Daniel. You loved Daniel with your whole being. And if all he could give you were these pieces… then surely it would be enough? You loved him, and Daniel loved you.

He loved you in how he arrived to work every day with your coffee order “extra hot so it’s still nice and warm for you.” He loved you in how he spent the time every night doing your rehab with you after the foot injury. He loved you in the goofy selfies he sneakily took on your phone for you to later find, in the hoodies he bought as “joint custody for me and you.” He loved you in the lyrics he would randomly text you of songs he thought you might like or that reminded him of you.

He also loved you in how he was always driving you anywhere and everywhere. In the three years you were with Daniel, you probably needed your license once. And that was for the time you had to pick him up from the airport - flowers and sign abandoned on the floor when you saw him walk through the gate and you rushed and jumped into his arms.

He loved you in all of this. He just never said the words to you.

But that was fine because you still had him. You had the Daniel who ran on the treadmill beside you, who stopped by Max’s side of the garage to give you a hug and a coffee, who cracked jokes when you were stressed and made you feel seen. Any time you felt yourself floating away, Daniel was right there to ground you, the asthma puffer to make you smile and breathe.

So, for a while, you managed to live in bliss.

Even with all teammate drama, it worked. Somehow. Sometimes you needed to step in between the two highly competitive men and remind them of how they were friends. Occasionally you might use the ‘it’s hurting me’ card which wasn’t the biggest lie. Max was like a brother to you and Daniel - Daniel made you start thinking about guest lists and buying property. The entirety of 2016 and 2017 was marked with such joy from the fact that you had your best-friend and boyfriend always beside you.

The late night car rides where you and Daniel argued about music. Or the late night Fifa championships where you and Max argued about football. Or, your personal favourite, the early morning meetings where you all three took the piss with an exasperated Christian Horner.

In short, you felt yourself finally making a family for yourself. This wasn’t yo, an added extension of the Leclerc family - this was you and what you had built for yourself.

In fact, you were starting to feel that your world and Daniel’s were becoming all the more closer. Tommy called you every so often for girl advice, Blake and you sending each other gym memes and Corey needing your help to buy Daniel a birthday present. It seemed like the years of loneliness was starting to pay off and God was finally giving you what you had spent so long wishing for.

Of course, nothing stays the same. The one certainty about life is that everything changes.

It happened during the Hungary Grand Prix. You had gotten a call from Pascale about a family friend’s upcoming wedding. You had received the invitation from the bride herself not too long after that in a group chat with you, her fiancé and Charles. You four had all gone to school together anyway.

Her wedding was just over a year away but she wanted to know RSVP’s ASAP because it was happening Monaco and she needed to plan around the Grand Prix. Such was life.

Not thinking much about it, you told Daniel.

“Oh, yeah sure. May - wait, that’s like… next year?” He said, pausing what he was doing on his phone to stare at you, confused.

“Yeah. She needs to know responses because I think she’s planning to have it close to the Grand Prix so the venue needs numbers now.” You explained. “But it’ll be nice since you’ll be there anyway and you can finally meet Charles and the Leclercs properly. I can show you where I grew up and - “

“Uh, I mean. Babe, that’s kind of far away.” Your enthusiasm slowly died seeing the tells of Daniel slipping away slightly. He brought his hood up and went back to his phone.

“Ah… yeah.” You said. For some reason, that feeling was coming back. Panic. Stress. Unease. You tried to play it off. “I can… go with Charles, if you don’t think you can make it.”

“No. Fuck that I’m your… Charles can - no.” Daniel shook his head. “Look can we just…” He let out an exhale and sat on the hotel bed and pulled up a pillow behind him. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

“I - “ You tried to think of answer but food was the furthest thing on your mind. You looked down at your phone and Charles’ response to the save the date chat.

Felicitations ! Of course I will be there with my family !

You knew you had to respond but hated that you couldn’t send your own message with the same level of surety. Will you be there? And with Daniel? The bride was asking how many plus ons to pass the number of heads to the venue. Charles had made it clear. You - not so much.

“I need to know Daniel.” You said, feeling a bit fed up of not being able to be sure of things with Daniel. “She’s asking me for numbers. Do I put you down or not?”

Daniel let out of very heavy sigh. "Does this really matter right now?"

“Yes it does.” You stuck to your gun. “I mean, what’s the problem? That it’s in a years time?”

“I’m not having this conversation.” He immediately dismissed and went to fluff the pillow, hitting it with a little too much force.

“Well I want to have it. What’s the problem?” You asked, coming round to stand in front of where he was sitting. “You literally couldn’t even say it before.”

“Say what?”

“Boyfriend. When I said I can go with Charles you said ‘No, fuck that I’m... ’ and then trailed off. Like you always do.”

“I don’t always trail off.”

“Yes, you do! I mean, we’ve been together for how many months and we’ve never even had the conversation about it being official.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Daniel said with a dry laugh. “Seriously? Are we fourteen and kissing in a tree also?”

You frowned and felt the hurt wash over you. It was one thing for him to not understand but to make a joke about it. You clenched your hands into fists, the nails digging into your palms. “Daniel.” You said, trying to be calm. “It feels, to me, like you’re scared to fucking commit.”

“Oh for fuck's sake, babe! What? Because I don’t know if I can make it to a fucking wedding in a year!” Daniel yelled back. He then pushed himself off the bed. “Fuck this, I’m going out.”

“Daniel! We’re talking.”

“Yeah? I’m done talking.”

The door slammed on his way out. Daniel didn’t come back to the hotel room. Around 3am you texted Max to see if Daniel had gone there instead.

No, he’s not with me. Are you okay? Did something happen?

You didn’t respond. You just continued to cry in the pillows of the too large hotel bed. They still smelled like him.

Max swore it was not because of you.

But then you saw how cold he’d been to Daniel all weekend. But then you saw the crash on the opening lap.

Max cared about you, and seeing you cry about Daniel pissed him off.

You heard Daniel swearing on the radio as he spun out of the race. Thankfully, he recovered to 6th, his original starting position behind Max, who also originally started 5th. All in all, it could’ve been much worse. Still, everyone in the garage was fuming. A few members gave you the side eye, knowing your relationship between the two of them. You couldn’t even be mad at the “trouble in paradise” comments because, well, they were true.

You went to Daniel’s driver room and let yourself in.

“I said don’t bother me for — oh.”

“Hi.” You said, closing the door behind you. You went to him and kneeled down on the ground to bring yourself eye level to him.

“Shouldn’t you be with your driver?” He asked, not meeting your eyes.

You took a breath, ignoring it and letting him just let it out. Instead, you forced a smile on your face and look at him with gentle eyes. “I’m with my boyfriend.”

“I can’t say that word, remember?” His voice was sardonic and you rolled your eyes.

"Can we stop it with the dumb shit?" You said and lifted a hand to his face. "None of that matters right now."

"I thought it did."

"Daniel." You exhaled. "Where do I go home to?"

"What?" He frowned and gave you a confused look that bordered on annoyance. You ignored it and repeated your question.

"Home. Where is it?"

He frowned. "Fucking Monaco? I don't know."

"True. I go to Monaco and dump my bags at your doorway, kick off my shoes by your mat and raid your fridge. Every track, I leave Max's garage and go to your hotel room. You're home. That's all the matters."

Daniel's face changed at your words. Gone were the tells of anger and now you saw something that hurt a little more - the sadness. Daniel being sad felt unnatural. To see the happy-go-lucky boy do anything but smile felt wrong.

"This weekend has been a shit run. Not just on track. But don't think that means I'm not still by you."

Daniel's eyes welled. He put a hand over yours. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You weren't sure what he was sorry for. So you ignored it. And you smiled at him. "It's okay. I'm here. And I love you."

He didn't say it back. But he hugged you. And for that moment, it was enough.

After a while, a new pattern emerged between you two.

You and Daniel would be good. In fact, you would get closer and closer. He would get a tattoo of something that symbolised you. You would change your emergency contact to him. You two would get so close in fact that you would continue to be deluded that everything was fine and that you were both on the same page of where you would both heading.

Then something like your friend's wedding would happen.

Daniel doesn’t politely reject the advances of the model hitting on him at some PR event. Or he ignores you for most of said PR event. He goes on a three day fishing trip without telling you about it. He gets mad that you planned a week in Hawaii for summer break without telling him.

He doesn’t say I love you back.

Not that he ever did. It was the common recurrence. But sometimes his lack of response to the three words hurt you more than others. Especially because you would say them hoping that that time would be enough for him to say it. Because you needed to hear him say it. Just once.

Maybe if he said it, you would’ve been fine. If he said it, then you wouldn’t feel the need to say it less. If he said it, you wouldn’t get hurt when he declined moving in together, when he made up an excuse as to why he couldn't go for dinner with Pascale and the Leclercs.

If he said it, you wouldn’t get mad when he left you at a party to hang out with Heidi Klum or some other Victoria Secret model. If he said it, you wouldn’t find yourself stressing between the hours of 11pm to 3am when he didn’t answer his phone and no one seemed to know where he was.

You and Daniel would be good, great even.

Then someone would happen that made you need to bring up the future, the reality of you and him.

Daniel would then freak out and close himself off. This would end up in an argument.

And then he would disappear and leave you for the night. Maybe a whole day if it was really bad.

But he would come home and you would make up and things would seem better, stronger even, as you both got closer. He would get another tattoo, burn you an actual CD mix of songs and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

Looking back, that should’ve been the part that made you end it. The toxic cycle you had found yourself in with Daniel was not helping anyone. It was dangerous and damaging and even Max was getting sick of it. “I said you were both cut from the same cloth but I also said Daniel needed to grow up a little bit.”

Because Daniel wasn’t ready to stop having fun. That fact never became more apparent than it did when it came to the 2018 Monaco Grand Prix.

And if Max was starting to get tired of you and Daniel, then Charles was beyond over it.

“Where’s Daniel?” Charles blue/green eyes shone in the sun as he helped unhaul your bags from the taxi.

“He’s coming later. Apparently, there’s a yacht party. Don’t tell your mum. Pascale invited him to breakfast and I feel bad.” Charles opened his mouth and you gave him a look. “It’s impolite, I know. We just had a fight and I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“A fight about what?” Charles asked, rolling your bags into the Monaco home you and him had grown up in. And it was this very home that you and Daniel had argued about.

You saw Monaco as a way to be at home with your family - to get your yearly haircut (yes, yearly) from Pascale and visit Hervé’s grave. But it was also time for you and Charles to hang out the house the two of your grew up in. To play Mario Kart with Arthur, workout with Lorenzo or cook dinner with Pascale. You liked to be at home with your family and take it slow.

Whereas Daniel didn’t see Monaco as this. Instead, he was hitting up every party, every club. He was sleeping on yachts and drinking his weight in mimosas for breakfast. At first, you had accepted it, thinking that maybe that was just the Formula 1 driver life style.

But Max never did this. And Charles had invited Lando, George and Alex over to play video games and have lunch. A lunch that was likely going to be cooked by you and Pascale. They weren’t going out clubbing or anything. And you saw Carlos Sainz up bright and early every morning when you tapped in at 6am to go the local gym.

No, it was just Daniel being Daniel who wanted to follow any sounds of heavy bass, laughter or glass clinking. Sure, he wasn’t the only person in F1 who did this - quite a few tended to - but you had hoped that now he was with you that he could give Monaco a chance to be a place of calm, a place for family. Weren't you guys growing up and sharing your lives together? Wouldn't that mean he saw Monaco for what it meant to you, and not what he always knew it to be; a hunting ground for a good party.

It didn't help that Charles was always feeding into these thoughts. Like right now when he sighed deeply and went on to say. “The boys are coming at midday.” He said, seeing your lack of response as Charles set your stuff down in the spare room that was, really, just your room. “You’re more than welcome to join.”

“I might take a nap.” You said, looking at the bed. “Or go for a run.”

“I think Lorenzo was going to go for one.” Charles said.

“Actually I might go by myself.” You went to unzip the bag but Charles’ hand came over to yours. You looked up at him and Charles quietly used your hand to pull you into him. He wrapped his arms around you and you tucked your head in between his shoulder and neck.

Then, you started to cry.

Daniel was driving beautifully.

He finished first in all three practice sessions. Come qualifying, he was one with the car and it would not at all be a surprise to anyone if he got pole position.

Max was fairing much worse. He had crashed in FP3 and the mechanics had been unable to fix it for ready for qualifying. You knew seeing Daniel do well was only adding salt to the wound and after doing all you could, felt it best to leave Max alone in his room for now. Besides, you needed to see where Daniel finished in Qualifying.

“Excuse me, where is the VIP section?”

“Oh, who are you?”

“Monica Richelli. I’m a friend of Daniel Ricciardo’s.”

It was hearing his name that had you turning to look. There in front of you was perhaps one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And considering your time in Formula 1 and the constant parade of models back and forth, that was saying something.

However, as your time in Formula 1 had taught you, the constant parade of models back and forth was usually for one thing. Models were never just friends of someone. Everyone knew. You knew. The guest pass, the way she smiled coyly, the fact that this was Monaco.

You wanted to throw up.

Qualifying suddenly became background noise. The rest of the time in the garage you stood there unable to focus on anything else. Monica. Her name was Monica. She has beautiful blonde hair. She has great posture. You stared at the effortless way she stared at the screens with the headphones on, as if that in itself was a posed picture for a brand. Her waist was thinner than anything you could ever train yourself to get. Her fingers were long and delicate and covered with pretty gold rings. She was so pretty. You wanted to cry. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to scream and die and get rid of this feeling because why did Daniel invite some pretty girl to the Monaco Grand Prix?

Daniel got pole position. Unsurprisingly. You ignored the fact that you were not the first person he celebrated with. We need to be discrete. We've always needed to be discrete.

You ignored the way he gave her a big hug, the way Monica wrapped his arms around your boyfriend. You shook your head. Many girls had thrown themselves at Daniel. Horner had given you many apologetic looks over the years when a sponsor's daughter got too comfortable with your boyfriend and Christian nor Daniel could do much since, well, they were a sponsor's daughter.

This was just like all those times. Daniel is excited and everything's fine.

That thought became a bit more concrete in your mind when Daniel finally did come up to you. Away from the cameras, he lifted you up in his arms and screamed.

"Fucking pole baby!"

The energy had you bursting out into laughter. He pressed kisses all over your face and you felt all your anxiety melt away. This was Daniel. Your Daniel. He loved you.

Tucked away in his Driver's Room, you two could finally be. You and him. No one else. Seeing him like this, you forced all the doubts and worries of earlier out of your mind. He's a driver and he's currently competing against Max right now. Daniel's had a lot on his mind and you could excuse all the funny behaviour as Monaco stress.

"I'm proud of you." You said, grinning wide. Seeing him so happy, you could excuse it all. This... this was worth it.

"Man, I feel good. I'm feeling so good." He said, taking off his helmet. "I'm going to win this. I feel it."

"I know you will." You smiled, letting him hand you his helmet. "Just remember to keep that part in portier - "

"Daniel?"

You both turned to see a pretty head of hair peeking her head in his doorway. Your eyes grew seeing Monica there. Your stomach dropped and whatever reprieve you had felt suddenly was ripped apart as that feeling came right back.

"Oh hey Mon." He grinned. "Good to see you."

The growing ache in your chest hurt just that little bit more hearing the nickname. Mon.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." She said smiling, letting herself in through the door. Your mouth fell open at the familiarity and, well, audacity. "I just wanted to congratulate you on pole. I hear that's the secret to winning in Monaco."

"Yeah it is." Daniel laughed. Ever so cheerful, ever so happy, ever so easy-going. Completely different to how you were feeling inside.

"Oh, sorry. Is this your assistant?" Mon's eyes finally fell to you.

For a second, all the anxiety was replaced with white hot anger at the fucking gall of this bitch. "Excuse the fuck outta me - "

Daniel said your name. You stopped and looked at him. He didn't meet your eyes. Enraged, you forced yourself to bite your tongue.

"This is Max's trainer. She was just helping me out since he DNF'ed. Shall I meet you outside?"

"Yes, that sounds lovely." Mon's eyes darted to you once more before she smiled up at Daniel then she left the room.

He just got pole in Monaco. He just got pole in Monaco. He just got pole in Monaco. He just got pole in Mon -

"Who the fuck is she Daniel?"

You couldn't help yourself.

"Come on, I just got pole in Monaco."

"I know. And you just dismissed me as Max's trainer."

"That isn't the first time we've had to do this. You knew what it was going to be like dating me." Daniel argued back. His voice was clipped and, to be fair, you couldn't understand why. He had just gotten pole in Monaco and you were arguing with him about a girl. Daniel was right, there were numerous times where you two had to downplay your relationship in front of some sponsor or big name.

If anything, him doing that should just be reassuring that this was another case of some random big wig's daughter they had to appease and play the game again with.

But... you just had that feeling.

She had come into his room.

"Daniel. How does she know you?"

"Maybe because I'm a fucking Formula 1 driver and it's the fucking Monaco Grand Prix."

"Don't speak to me like that."

"Then don't be a fucking idiot." Daniel dismissed. "What do you want me to say? Why are you jumping down my throat right now about some girl? Now? When I just got pole? You're my girlfriend. Shouldn't you be celebrating with me? Not worried about some dumb shit in your head."

"It's not in my fucking head. Since when has a some sponsorship bitch come into your room? We're in Monaco and this shit doesn't even happen with Charles and - "

"Fuck's sake!" Daniel snapped. "I don't fucking need this right now!"

And then he stormed off.

And his helmet was still in your hands.

You looked down to the DR3 print and saw yourself in the reflection. You weren't sure at what point you started to cry.

The celebrations for Monaco 2018 were some of the worst days of your life.

Even after Daniel won and fell into the pool, something didn't feel right inside, in your gut. Naturally, the parties went all night long and Red Bull spared no expense. Even Max eventually got over his own shit weekend and mood and join in the festivities.

But you weren't. No amount of alcohol helped seeing your boyfriend dance with all those girls. Not that you could drink. It felt like anything you consumed might just come right back out.

Monica had been there every single second. You had to watch as she sat in his lap, as she pressed kisses on his cheek. Max was nowhere to be seen and Charles had decided to leave the parties to go spend time with the family. Something you really should be doing. But you couldn't drag yourself away from it.

It hurt, it down right fucking sucked to watch Daniel like this - completely in his element and overjoyed - and that you were in no way part of his picture.

"You should go home."

You looked to where the Spanish-lilted voice disrupted the tunnel vision you had on Daniel pouring tequila straight into Monica's mouth.

Carlos was smiling softly at you. He had a gin and tonic in his hand and was dressed in a white linen shirt. You frowned, wondering since when he looked so grown up. Like a man.

"You look like a man." Maybe you were a lot more drunk than you had thought.

His smile became slightly amused. "Maybe because I am, bella."

You smiled at the pet name and found yourself tilting your head to the side. "Did you shave?"

His amused smile turned into an all out laugh. "I did. I felt like Monaco needed a clean face."

You nodded, considering this. In hindsight, the alcohol was a blessing since you could stand here and talk to Carlos about his hair habits and have a momentary reprieve that that was the only thing your mind was processing.

Not the girl dancing on your boyfriend.

"Ricciardo doesn't deserve you."

You looked up at Carlos. He was staring at the scene you had been studying for the past two hours, ever since you had arrived. You had decided to play a toxic game with yourself where you would wait until Daniel asked about you and then you would reveal yourself. After forty five minutes of this game, you ended up at the bar wondering you were even in this relationship. If you could even call it that.

"Thanks Carlos."

"Can you let me take you home?" Carlos asked. "Please."

You blinked at this, at his gentle insistence. You knew it stemmed from pity, that he really wanted to save you from the embarrassment that was your partner going off with anyone woman right in front of you.

"Okay."

Carlos helped you up and put a gentle hand on your back as he guided you out of the club. You thought it very kind and gentlemanly of him. And whilst Carlos would pride himself on being a gentlemen, the real act of kindness was guiding you away so you wouldn't see Daniel stick his tongue down a model's throat.

Carlos' kindness, however, was short-lived. He blames himself. He had wanted to take you for the scenic route around Monaco, get your mind off of it. He bought you ice-cream and was pleased that he would be walking a now smiling you to your hotel room.

Only that you'd open your door and be met with groans and moans. Familiar groans and moans.

Daniel. With multiple women.

In the hotel room you both had shared. As you always had shared. Your home. Supposedly.

You said nothing. What could you say? You weren't exactly prepared to go in there and scream and wail about him - him -- Daniel your -

No.

You found yourself closing the door. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Please... don't tell anyone." You spoke to the man beside you.

"Bella..." He began in a soft voice.

"Please Carlos."

"Of course." He said and reached for your hand. You looked down at him reaching for your fingers, holding them oh so gently. "You've asked me to."

Carlos pressed your fingers to his lips. Your eyes watered at the kindness.

"Please don't cry about that fool."

But you did. Carlos pulled you close as your tears spilled. You weren't sure how or when but Carlos had brought you into another hotel room, one less flash and in retrospect, it had to be his. But in that moment, nothing made sense. Your attention was focused on one thing and one thing alone: Daniel didn't want you.

And so you spent the entire night crying on the bathroom floor.

And it wasn't even yours.

Charles eventually found out.

Not from Carlos. You were surprised he stuck to his word. He had reached out in the few days following Monaco but you ignored him. You just didn't - you couldn't.

It happened, again, in the bathroom. You were brushing your teeth in Charles' ensuite. He knew something was up - you were always asking what he was up to and if you could do whatever with him. Not that Charles minded but he knew you. You were avoiding something.

And if you wanted to avoid Carlos and Daniel and even Max, that was doable. But you couldn't have foresaw the text you'd get one random day.

I didn't realise you were his girlfriend. I'm sorry. He never told me.

You stared the message. Three lines. You stared at them for a good few minutes. Then came the three dots dancing. Then came the screenshots. All the screenshots. Screenshots of Daniel messaging Mon. Messages that dated all the way back before Hungary.

You had toothpaste in your mouth. You immediately spat it out. Then you went to the toilet and heaved. The sounds of vomiting must've alerted Charles because in he came and held your hair back.

You cried and cried. It all broke you again. You don't remember at what point you were verbal enough to tell Charles. Or maybe he read your phone. Nonetheless, Charles somehow figured out what happened and boy was he furious.

That had caused some commotion in the Leclerc household since Charles was all ready to grab his keys and drive to Ricciardo's place. It took Lorenzo being the calm, sensible elder to point a finger at you and ask Charles what was really important now.

"Pense à elle! Maintenant, elle est la plus importante!"

And so the t-shirt Charles had been wearing, a strippy oversized T you'd bought him one random Tuesday, became ruined from your tears. Snot, mascara, the works.

You slept in Charles' arms that night.

You woke up in Charles' arms the next morning.

You spent the day in Charles' bed.

You spent the next week in Charles' bed.

Charles went with Lorenzo to pick up your stuff from Daniel's apartment. Charles copped the earful from Pascale for punching Daniel in the face when the Australian kept probing him for information on your radio silence. Charles bought you a new phone and set it up - making sure to block Daniel's number. Charles sat through all the Top Gear reruns. Charles made sure you ate, even just a little bit. Charles organised a lawyer for you to speak to Christian Horner and Daniel Ricciardo. Charles prepared the paperwork for you to move from Red Bull to join him at Sauber and then, God hoping, Ferrari afterwards.

"Imagine it mon tresor! You and I at Ferrari. We win the Championship and you can fuck off all the idiots." You smiled at Charles who was once again doing the most to make you smile.

"Thank you Charles." You said, smiling at the beautiful boy. You were laying on his bed and Charles jumped on to land on his stomach with an oof.

He booped your nose and then rolled over to turn on the TV and cast the next Top Gear special onto the flatscreen. "Okay, Middle Eastern special. Vas-y!"

You looked at your best friend, your Charles. The break-up with Daniel was going to suck - it was sucking - but Charles made it all the more easier. Everything would get easier. 'Just give it time.' As he said. In time, you'd be working with him and not have to ever talk to Daniel Ricciardo ever again.

It's okay. You reminded yourself of this fact over and over again. Looking over at Charles, you felt some serenity. It would suck, but you knew you could live life without Daniel Ricciardo. But losing Charles? God help you, you'd probably die.

A month later, Charles left.

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