ohhh mike mcclain and ellura.... it happened again
(the way mike + lance both regressed and lived in their family home forever and alone) (and el + allura who both suffered so long and deserved to live full happy lives but weren't allowed to because the writers always saw them as ideals of magical girlfriends meant to make men tragic) (mike and lance reduced to grief over a doomed relationship while will and keith make it out. i'm going to be sick)
"You're a son-of-a-bitch, You know that? She bought her first new car and You hit her with a drunk driver. What, was that supposed to be funny? "You can't conceive, nor can I, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God," says Graham Greene. I don't know whose ass he was kissing there 'cause I think You're just vindictive. What was Josh Lyman? A warning shot? That was my son."
summary: the time she and her son accidentally meet his favourite f1 driver on the street and the time they meet him again at the race. | here's pt.2 to this fic
words: 4.2K
warnings: fluff, pierre with a kid (that deserves a warning in itself, because oh my god just the thought makes me cry), the kid has a name (Austin), no beta reading + english isn't my first language
a/n: idk why but i have baby fever these days and honestly, pierre is THE perfect dad material honestly. i knew i had to write pierre with kids one day, and that day came today.
ps. i've never been to a gp so i have no clue how these things work and if i wrote it anything close to realistic or not.
please don't be a ghost reader! all feedback is well appreciated!
Her son wriggles his hand out of hers with newfound strength and bolts down the street as fast as his small feet can carry him before she can even comprehend what has caused his sudden stop mid-walk just a second beforehand.
As she starts rushing after him, hoping that he won't fall in his haste, she notices him come to a halt at a man's legs. He pokes the stranger's thigh to get his attention, and as soon as the man's eyes move down at the small figure, the boy starts speaking. Or more like squealing, to be fair. She can hear it even from afar, his high, excited voice the wind carries to her ears.
He seems unstoppable, words flowing out of his mouth as if he doesn't even need to breathe. By the time she arrives to the two of them, the kid has started telling the man the story of how he's been a fan of Formula One since he was two years old, how he doesn't even remember life without it, and how even his first word was race car. It's his favourite story to tell, she can't even count on two hands how many times she's listened to it already, but right now she has no clue why he had the sudden urge to pour it on a stranger he saw on the street.
Then her eyes move up and take in the sight of the man listening patiently to her son, and suddenly her breath catches in her throat. It's Pierre Gasly. The man her son has been obsessed with in the past years, his favourite F1 driver. How on earth did they meet him so randomly?
"I'm so sorry," (y/n) speaks up as soon as her son takes a momentary pause, probably to gather some more oxygen, just after announcing happily that they have tickets for Sunday's race and that he literally can't wait to be there. She gently grabs the little boy's shoulder to pull him a bit further away from the driver, trying to give some of his personal space back to him.
"It's completely okay," he smiles at her, eyes finally leaving the boy for the first time since he appeared by his feet.
What surprises him though is that gorgeous face that looks back at him with a worried – and adorable – expression playing on her features. Somehow he didn't expect something like this, such a beautiful, young woman standing next to him.
"I know it's hard to control kids so young when they get excited," he chuckles, making her giggle in response.
"Ugh, don't even get me started, they can be awful," (y/n) rolls her eyes playfully, the joking tone unmistakeable in her voice. She slightly leans down to be more at her son's level, "right, kiddo?"
Her son blushes furiously. "Don't make me look bad in front of him!" he exclaims, not so discreetly pointing at the man.
"Oops, sorry, Aust," she bites her bottom lip to stop the laughter threatening to bubble out. "Didn't mean to."
"It's okay," the little boy offers with a sigh that is just so adult-like that it makes Pierre chuckle once more.
Glancing down at her son she sees the idea forming in his mind right before he turns to her, beckoning her to lean even further down to his level. "I want his autograph!" he whispers in her ear, though his voice is still so loud that she's more than sure Pierre can hear it clearly too.
As she's moving her hand to fish out the sharpie from her bag she always keeps there just in case she ever needed it, she mumbles back to him. "Why don't you ask him nicely, you know, like we practised?"
(y/n) takes a quick glance up at the driver waiting patiently for them to finish the conversation between themselves, hoping that his son doesn't take too long and they don't delay him too much from wherever he was going to go. What she doesn't know is that he would always make time for a small kid, no matter what is on his schedule next. He loves kids, and when he sees them being so into Formula One, he somehow sees himself in them. And knowing how much it meant to little Pierre, he can never deny them this pleasure of having a word or two with him.
"Can you sign this for me, please?" the little boy asks, holding out the sharpie and his baseball cap, high up in the air.
Pierre squats down, already smiling wide and nodding. "Of course!"
(y/n) feels warmth in her chest just watching the two interact, thinking of how grateful she is for the driver to be so nice and lovely with her son, knowing that it will mean the world to him for probably all his life. Pierre scribbles on the material and hands the items back to the boy, who squeals loudly, turning to his mom to show off his new possession. "Look!"
She giggles, lightly shaking her head at her son's antics. He definitely got this from her, getting so enthusiastic about little things as a fan. When she looks back up again, she finds Pierre already staring at her. When caught, he swiftly clears his throat, that soft smile again adorning his face.
"Nephew? Or just babysitting?" he asks the first thing that comes to mind as he tries to spark some small talk, not yet wanting to say goodbye to her. Seeing the surprise that comes to her face he's quick to backtrack. "Sorry. I don't know why I asked that, you don't have to answer, it's not my place at all to ask this–"
She lets out a small laugh watching him chatter away. "It's okay," she stops him mid-sentence with a hand gently and momentarily laid on his arm. "He's my son, actually."
His eyes widen and she chuckles again, seeing his reaction. She will never get tired of seeing the absolute shock on people's faces. Pierre shakes his head to get out of the trance he's got in. "I'm sorry. I just figured you're too young to have a kid his age," he explains, though mentally he could slap himself, because why the hell did he say that out of all the possible things he could say?
"It's okay, honestly," she repeats. "People often think that. Or that he's my brother, that's very common too. I guess I just look a lot younger than I actually am," her shoulders move in a shrugging motion. "And it probably doesn't help a lot that it's just us two together people see all the time, not a complete family."
Before he could respond to that, his phone starts ringing, and with an apologetic smile flashed her way, he answers the call. (y/n) softly grabs her kid's arm to tug him away from the driver, trying to give him the privacy he deserves. When Pierre glances back at them, she waves with her free hand, mouthing a quick thank you to him before lacing her fingers with the little boy's and walking away.
They've taken enough time from the driver already.
- - - three days later - - -
On Sunday, she, her son and her brother are at the race taking place near their town, waiting close to the gates to catch at least a few drivers for Austin to be able to add more signatures to his treasured collection.
Pierre has been thinking about her almost non-stop, even though he knows there's a big chance that he'll never see her again in his life. And it's just so stupid. It's not like she's definitely single anyway – the two probably have someone waiting at home for them. The boy's father. But then why did she say it's always just 'them two' and not a 'complete family'? The driver can't help but get his hopes up high.
Walking towards the gates his eyes move along the crowd that has gathered there, no matter how hard his inner voice tries to tell him to stop and focus on the race ahead of him. Because of his phone call the other day that interrupted his conversation with her, he didn't have a chance to ask them where they will be at the race, or if he'll see them again. But then his glance lands on the familiar sight of the young boy jumping up and down, having just gotten a photo taken with Charles.
Pierre's heartbeat quickens, looking up behind the boy to see the young woman standing there, an Alpha Tauri cap on top of her head – oh, lord. He just makes his mind up to go there and just talk to her again, his feet already taking him closer when her son turns and after proudly thrusting the just signed piece of paper in the air, showing it off to someone standing next to his mom, he's lifted in the air by a pair of strong arms – arms not belonging to her.
The driver lets his gaze follow the movement and all of a sudden he feels a lump in his throat as he's staring at the man next to her, grinning wide at the young boy in his arms, high in the air. They say hope dies last, and for Pierre the saying worked perfectly. He's been hopeful until this very moment that she is indeed single, but right now it definitely seems that she's not, he concludes sourly as she shares a laugh with the man.
He ponders not even going up to them anymore, not wanting to disturb the family's joy, but then it's already too late as her eyes suddenly connect with his. She probably felt his eyes on her. The smile that's just gotten somewhat smaller on her lips as her previous laughter faded widens again and she waves at him, her motion somewhat shy as if she's not sure he remembered them. He can't fight the smile that curls on his lips just at the simple sight of her smile being directed his way. There's no going back now, he thinks and continues his way.
"Hi!" she greets him, patting her son's back in the meantime to get his attention. "Austin, look who's here!"
The little boy turns in the other man's arm, twisting his body to have a better look and then squeals with delight.
"How are you?" she asks casually, grabbing his attention back easily as the kid holds out the paper in his direction, saying something about wanting to have two signatures from him because he's his favourite.
"Fine, thanks. Bit nervous," Pierre glances up for a moment to smile at her whilst he's signing his name next to his friend, Charles' autograph.
"Well, good luck for today, I hope you'll have a great race. We'll be rooting for you!"
Her words make him happy – impossibly happy considering that he doesn't even know her. Trying to control himself he mumbles a soft thank you before offering to get a picture with the little boy, remembering how the other day they didn't have the chance to do so because of that damned phone call.
Austin shakes his head, but before the surprise can show itself on Pierre's face, he gives an explanation to his decision. "I want to have a picture after the race, when you won."
The driver's heart gets warmer at the little boy's enthusiasm and trust in him, and he agrees happily, even though he's well aware that it most likely won't happen. He makes the boy promise that he'll be here in the same place they are now after the race and he himself promises in return that he'll look for the boy to have that photo taken no matter what.
At least he'll have something to look forward to even if the race doesn't go his way.
- - - a couple hours later - - -
After the race he's glowing. Maybe it was the knowledge of the kid's belief in him, the knowledge of being his favourite driver and that he – along with his mom – was cheering Pierre on, but he arrived at the finish line in P5, a way better position than he or his team expected.
As soon as he can get away, having finished all his duties the fastest he possibly could, he excuses himself and goes back to the arranged meeting place to look for the kid and his family – though that still hurt to think about, them being a complete family, no matter how wrong it might be to think this way.
It's somewhat easier to find them this time, most people having left already after the race was over. Pierre immediately notices the absence of the other man, looking around questioningly as he's approaching the boy and his mom, and she can probably tell from his eyes what he's wondering because as soon as he gets in speaking distance to them, she speaks up.
"My brother had to leave earlier, something came up, but there's no way I could make this one here leave," she gestures towards her son, her face beaming.
Brother?! He couldn't fully comprehend the word brother when she continues.
"And anyway I didn't want to leave either," she adds after a momentary pause, a light pink colouring her cheeks.
Stop acting like a fool, Pierre scolds his heart for skipping a beat at her words. She probably didn't mean it like that at all.
He's still fighting the feeling of surprise and somewhat relief, hearing the word brother from her lips. So it wasn't the boy's father in the end. It doesn't mean that there isn't a father in the picture, though, he tries to stop himself before he could build his hopes high once more.
"So, shall we have that picture taken? I know I didn't win, so feel free to say no," Pierre chuckles, looking down at the boy who nods back eagerly – clearly the win didn't matter that much in the end –, eyes shining bright from the excitement buzzing in his small body.
Purely by instinct he leans down and grabs him, lifting the kid until he's sitting on the driver's arm, delicately pressing onto the side of his body. In the meantime (y/n) has unlocked her phone and she's now holding it in front of her face, waiting for the two to stop moving around so she could take the photo.
Austin is grinning so wide it splits his face in two, and to be fair, it matches the one sitting on Pierre's face. They are truly a sight for sore eyes. She feels the immense happiness seeing the two like that, and the way her heartbeat accelerates.
When the picture is done, she steps closer to the two to show it to them, waiting for their approval, knowing full well that her son is quite picky when it comes to photos – that he got from his father for sure.
"Nice!" Austin nods in a clearly serious way, the motion itself being enough to show just how important this is for him.
(y/n) bites back a giggle, knowing that this is the best verdict she can get from her son. "I agree, this is a really great photo," Pierre smiles at the screen, still holding onto the kid like it's no big deal, like it's not someone else's son, like it's absolutely natural. Neither of the two boys seem to notice it as they examine all the details of the picture – and it's such a heartwarming sight to her that there's no way she would be the one to stop them.
"Actually, can you send this to me?" the driver speaks up again, after a couple seconds of silent photo-examining. "I want to remember this forever."
His eyes move up to her face just as she can feel her heart skip a beat. A smile so honest and bright lights up his face that she has to fight the urge to raise her phone once more just to immortalize it. He wants to remember.
"When I grow up, I wanna be like you!" Austin announces as his mom holds the device out towards the driver, indicating for him to type in his number so she could send the photo.
"Really?" Pierre puts the youngling down, chuckling away at his words, but at the same time feeling bright happiness burn in his chest from his words. Who would've thought that the day would come when he is the one little boys look up to and aspire to be?
Hearing the kid's words is one of the greatest feelings in the world for him. Sure, he's had fans come up to him, talking with him for a little while, but no one said it straight on yet that he's their favourite and that they want to be like him. He's almost rendered speechless by this moment.
"No, Aust. Don't even start thinking about it!" (y/n) shakes her head, eyes widening at the thought but a loving smile still playing on her lips, fingers gently brushing against Pierre's palm as she lays her phone down on it.
"Why?" her son looks up from his much shorter height, genuine curiosity painting his face.
"You can't expect me to nearly die from worrying every weekend," she explains as if it's obvious – to her, it is, and Pierre can clearly understand why.
"You won't have to, I'll be as good as him!" Austin points at the driver who's watching the conversation unfold with genuine interest in his eyes, having already added his contact to her phone.
"Yeah, alright," the young mom sighs. "I guess now I don't have to worry."
As she glances back up at Pierre, she still tries to bite back the small laugh, and she can see that he's been somewhat struggling too. Their eyes connect and that's all it takes for the laughter to burst, and luckily her son is too immersed in examining his newly acquired treasures to notice.
When their laughter dies down, she focuses on forwarding the picture to his number – trying very hard not to read anything into the way he added a red heart emoji after his first name in his contact ID –, nodding her head once in accomplishment when it sends, putting her phone away into her bag.
"Okay, we should go now," (y/n) speaks the words Pierre hasn't realised he dreaded to hear all this time. "Thank you. For everything."
She looks deep in his eyes, and for a moment the outside world ceases to exist. Her meaningful tone lets him know just how seriously she means those words, just how grateful she really is to him – even though what he did for her and her son was close to nothing.
"I can walk you to your car," he's swift to offer, grabbing onto the first thought that would prolong the time he can spend with them – with her.
"Oh, you really don't have to!" (y/n) shakes her head, but even through her quick movements he can see the bright pink of her cheeks.
"But I'd love to," he smiles and motions with his hand as a sign for her to show the way.
They step into a comfortable pace towards the parking lot, both Pierre and (y/n)'s eyes trained on the small figure of her son as he's running ahead of them, as fast as he can manage, all the while trying to imitate a race car's sounds with his mouth.
"Since we met you the other day, he wouldn't shut up about it, about you for a single second," she speaks up after a couple seconds of cozy silence. "And after today, I don't think he will ever stop, to be honest."
Pierre tears his eyes away from the boy to be able to look at her instead, his gaze first noting the way her shoulders gently shake in her soft and quiet laughter before slowly moving up her neck and then her face.
"I'm glad I could contribute to a few happy minutes in his life," he grins, waiting. He doesn't have to wait long, because the next moment her eyes move too, glancing up at him, following the same route his eyes did but on his body, and then finally, their gazes meet.
"Oh, it definitely wasn't just a few happy minutes. He basically looks up to you as if you're his father at this point," she admits with a slight roll of her eyes.
He's left almost stunned by her words. What does this mean? "I hope his real dad doesn't mind," he laughs, but he can tell that it comes out somewhat forced, his voice tense. He can only hope it's not obvious to her.
"I don't think so, since he didn't even care enough to be there when his son was born," comes her swift reply. Pierre stops in his steps, surprised by the harshness of her answer and the sudden change of tone in her voice. Her by far always cheery way of speaking suddenly turned bitter, so bitter that it hurt his heart just to hear it.
Two emotions cloud his brain, anger towards whoever this guy is for behaving as shitty as he did and doing something so bad to her, and happiness because it means that this particular guy isn't in the picture.
"I'm sorry," (y/n) stops walking too, noticing the driver's sudden absence from by her side. Her eyes are wide as she's looking into his crystal clear, piercing blue orbs. "I don't know why I said that out loud. Didn't want to dump all this on you. It's not your problem. I– it's just been a little hard these past few weeks managing work and raising a kid alone, and it just spilled out. Sorry."
Pierre can see how truly remorseful she feels, but what almost breaks him is the absolute sadness in her eyes. It's nothing but instinct and the want to comfort her somehow that drives him as he gently wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his body. He doesn't even think beforehand, and when he finally does, it's already too late and she's standing in his embrace.
What are you doing? You might just make her very uncomfortable right now. But the next moment relief floods through him as he feels her much smaller hands landing on the material of his clothes, right above the small of his back.
A sigh leaves her lungs, and he can feel it more than hear it, in the way her chest rises and presses more into his for a long moment.
"It's okay," he mumbles, his thumb caressing the skin of her upper arm. "Everyone needs to rant a little sometimes."
"But not to a stranger. A Formula One driver stranger," she chuckles into his chest, sound muffled but still obviously sorrowful.
"I don't mind."
Pierre's eyes move above the top of her head, looking for a familiar (y/h/c)-haired boy. In a matter of seconds he finds him, just arriving to a car, halting at the side of the vehicle. "Mom, I'm at the car!" he calls out, his voice floating in the air towards the two adults left behind.
(y/n) moves her hands away from Pierre quickly, as if she's just been brought back to real life by her son's voice, as if she's been somewhere else in her mind. "Thanks," she mumbles under her breath as she leans back, breaking the contact of their bodies – much to Pierre's sadness.
They set off again, neither really knowing what to say. His heart is pumping in his throat, thoughts spinning in his mind. "Is it okay if I text you sometimes?" he asks eventually.
"You want to?" comes her reply in the form of a question. Pierre simply hums back, head moving in a nodding motion. "It'd be nice."
He watches as a smile forms on her face, that bright, lively pink colour returning to her cheeks and the previous sadness slowly disappearing from her (y/e/c) eyes. "I agree," he softly says, light joy vibrating in his body as he sees the proof that he managed to bring her back from feeling so down.
The two of them arrive to the car a few seconds later, and after unlocking it, (y/n) opens the car door, helping the small boy climb into his seat. She fastens the seatbelt with careful and precise movements, Pierre watching from the side.
"Say goodbye to Pierre, baby," she says, leaning back and moving to the other seat to place her bag down in its place – the driver's cheeks lightly blushing by hearing her say his name.
"Bye, Pierre!" the boy exclaims, waving rapidly from his seat at the man standing in the open door.
"See you soon, Austin," he smiles at the kid, waving back himself.
"We will meet again?" his small, (y/e/c) eyes that look so similar to hers widen in shock, a happy, surprised tone in his voice.
"I hope so," Pierre glances to the side, at her, just as she abruptly leans back to look at him, her eyes exactly as wide as her son's. They look so much alike.
She beams and he can see how she's biting the inside of her cheeks to prevent herself from smiling even wider at his words than she eventually displays. He smiles back just the same, one hundred percent genuine and so, so happy.
