Formula One - One Shots

𝐦𝐢𝐱 ~~ you and i (it's more than like)

First day on the paddock. Mick isn't stressed, he definitely didn't almost throw up on his way to the track. In his Haas F1 Team shirt and jeans, he gets out of the car, ready-but-not-so-ready to face the world as a Formula 1 driver for the first time in his life. It was hot in Bahrain, but not even his shades could protect him from the flash of the photographers. Everybody wants a piece of Mick Schumacher, Formula 2 champion and son of the legendary Michael Schumacher. Some scream his name, and some try to get as close as the barriers would let them.

Suddenly, it all crashes down on him. He made it. He truly is an F1 driver. Mick feels himself getting overwhelmed. He's achieving his dream, finally.

"All ok, mate?" Someone asks him, getting Mick out of his head.

The German driver looks behind him. Oh, it's only Max Verstappen, with a worried look on his face. It's only Max, the boy he has known since childhood. A known face in this ocean of unknown makes him calmer, and a smirk appears on his lips.

"Yeah, first time's nerves, that's all," Mick answers, slowly getting his frozen limbs to work again.

"Don't talk to me about them," Max smiles, "I don't think I've ever been as stressed as that day."

The German's smile grows, and Max begins to explain in detail his first Grand Prix weekend. It makes Mick even laugh a little, and he doesn't even realise they got to the pass check. He hasn't forgotten his paddock pass, he almost slept with it to be sure he doesn't forget it. The plastic is a little wrinkled, but Mick passes the checkpoint with flying colours.

Max walks him to the Haas garage. Mick doesn't let him go away before thanking him.

"It's alright Micky," the Dutch driver says. "Glad to finally see you here."

Max leaves too quickly to see the German driver's face get a little red at the nickname.

—————

The morning of the first Grand Prix feels ok, strangely. Mick gets up like usual and arrives at the track with Seb. Qualifying left to desire, but it was his first time in a real qualification, and in arguably the worst car on the grid, so cut himself some slack there. That doesn't mean he doesn't strive to do better.

The day goes by, and finally, it's time for the race. Getting in his white overalls feels like a dream, putting on his helmet feels like pure satisfaction. He's there, and he's going to race where he always wanted.

"You are clear to leave the garage," his engineer radios him, and Mick doesn't waste any time.

He can only grin, happy to be there.

Moments later, he isn't so sure anymore. In his visors, he sees his teammate get into the barriers, and the security is deployed. Mick gets to catch up with the pack, but at the restart, he's almost lost again. He tries his best, but the car just doesn't want to cooperate today.

His newfound nervousness makes him spin.

"All ok?" His engineer asks.

Mick answers by joining the track again. Strangely, he can't wait for the race to be over.

Laps later, he sees a Mercedes and Redbull lap him. Mick tries to swallow his anger in his throat, and concentrate on catching up on Seb upfront. They aren't that close, but he's sure he can give his friend a scare.

"P16, not bad Mick!"

The radio comes to life again as he sees chequered flags around the track. All becomes a blur as he slowly realises it's over, he has officially completed an F1 race. His brain doesn't even record him going to weighting, or happily chatting with Esteban. As he goes out of his driver's room, having changed and washed up a little, the fog starts to break out.