IH6: i mean camaraderie
pairing: isack hadjar x driver!reader
summary: being a formula 1 driver is demanding for many reasons. it’s too bad it seems to have the unwanted side-effect of making you an idiot at love.
word count: 3.1k
eve’s notes: just realized i have a thing for titling isack fics after sabrina carpenter songs. also reader is besties with gabi and that was completely self indulgent <3
If there’s one thing that can be said about Formula 1 drivers is that when they party, they party hard.
The night has progressed in a series of blurs and flashes. Neon lights. Music that makes the floor beat like a drum. Screaming conversations in an attempt to be heard. Free drinks—which is almost funny in your eyes, really. Because only now that you have the salary to afford an entire bar, you’re suddenly being offered free alcohol at every place you set foot in.
“You’re popular,” Gabriel teases, sitting across from you in the round table Ollie managed to get for all of you. A member of the staff hands you yet another drink you’ve definitely not ordered. Actually, you don’t think you’ve gotten the chance to order anything all night.
You roll your eyes goodnaturedly, “Acting like you haven’t received, like, five rounds from the girl in the blue top.”
Gabriel raises a brow, the corner of his lip curling with amusement. “Ah, but I am in a very committed relationship to my girlfriend.” His eyes flick back to the guy that the server pointed as the gift sender. “You are not seeing anyone.”
You roll your eyes, and even with the music and the flickering lights, you can tell the entire table of rookies seems to focus on your response. Gabriel, in particular, has taken a liking to teasing you over your love life. Or lack thereof.
“He looks like he wants to ask you to dance,” Kimi grins. He’s not exactly sober—though you’re really not one to talk. If anything, Kimi has simply taken full advantage of Monaco’s legal drinking age.
Besides Kimi, Isack toys with the straw in his empty glass. He looks pensive, if not a bit tired. As you’ve come to find out in the first months of the season, Isack’s a bit of a lightweight. You think he might still feel haunted by the last time you went out as a group—when he ended up vomiting inside your purse to avoid spilling his guts on the Uber’s floor. The walk to your respective rooms was filled with a teary-eyed still-drunk Isack rambling apologies in a hard to follow tangle of French and English, all despite your insistence that it’s fine, really, I didn’t even like it that much anyways.
The next day, you found a newer model of your purse waiting for you at the lobby. You also found that Isack had trouble meeting your gaze for the rest of the flight back. Looking at him now, under the orange-turned-pink hue of the lights, you notice that Isack still isn’t meeting your gaze. You wonder if he’s still embarrassed—you wonder what would be the best way to tell him that you didn’t care in the first place, that it’s fine, that all you want is for him to feel relaxed around you again.
“Don’t pressure her,” Isack says, and for a moment you think you’ve imagined it, words almost getting lost to the music. His back isn’t as stiff as before, the alcohol helping him loosen up a little. He looks at Kimi, but the Italian boy just raises his brows smugly, like he knows something.
“I am not,” Kimi insists. “But if no one is dancing with her, I don’t see why she shouldn’t dance with him.”
Isack’s frown sets.
“Maybe I just don’t feel like dancing,” you say relaxedly, shrugging your shoulders as you unconsciously hand Ollie your gifted drink. He accepts it eagerly.
“Everyone loves dancing.”
“Kimi.”
“Chiedile di ballare,” he insists, and you immediately dislike the fact that you’re among the minority drivers in this table that don’t speak Italian. Even Gabriel—who you know for a fact doesn’t speak Italian—looks too smug for your liking.
Isack’s jaw tenses. He returns his gaze to his empty glass, straw pushing around the ice. Kimi grows bolder at that, leaning forward. His mouth opens to add something else, but you beat him to it.
“I’m not indulging him,” you say, with an air of finality.
“Oh?” Gabriel asks, brows arched smugly. “Any reason why?”
“Yeah, like fifty. But I think I’ll settle for he’s probably trying to use me to get to you guys.” All four boys seem to pause at that, turning to you equally confused. Clueless, the lot of them.
“I think that’s the other way around,” Ollie says.
You roll your eyes, not annoyed, but unsurprised. “Right. He’s been staring at the lot of you for a while. Who knows? Maybe any one of you is more of his type than I am.”
“You are not giving yourself enough credit,” Isack says, and you’re almost surprised to find those big brown eyes on you. He doesn’t look away—not immediately, anyway. Maybe he is a little drunk. “You are a driver too, you know. He would be lucky to have your attention,” he says bluntly. Kimi nudges him with a laugh, and Isack’s cheeks redden—or maybe it’s the club lights. You’re not sure.
“Yeah?” you test. “I’ll go one step further—I bet that if he finds the courage to come up, he asks for a picture with you within the first minute.” You shrug. “Guys just don’t find it nearly as interesting or impressive when I’m the driver, let me tell you.”
Isack frowns. “You are talking to the wrong guys, then,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“Am I?” you ask, just to tease, to test whether Isack is drunk and confident or being earnest. “Who should I be talking to, then?”
Someone clears their throat behind you. The entire table perks up, and when you turn, you find the guy that had been sending drinks your way. He’s still cute up close, handsome even.
Not your type, though.
You realize that he has been talking for a beat, and you blink back into attention. “So, you wanna dance?” he asks, British accent distinct.
You can feel all four pairs of eyes snapping back to you like little pinpricks at the back of your neck. You smile apologetically. “Sorry—we’re actually leaving soon.”
He takes it in stride, nodding his head. “Oh, no worries.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, before his gaze swivels to your side. His eyebrows tick upward. “Hey, you’re Ollie Bearman, right?” He cracks a nervous smile. “Can I get a picture?”
Gabriel loudly snorts into his drink, earning a startled glance from the guy. You can see Isack, Kimi and Ollie alike struggling to keep a straight face.
You smile brightly. “Do you want me to take it for you?”
He nods eagerly, looking much more excited now than he did when he was asking you to dance. “Oh, yeah,” he starts, already handing you his phone, “that’d be mint.”
Kimi’s shoulders shake as he tries to hide his laughter.
You’re not quite sure who’s hotel room this is. Nights out with your rag-tag band of rookies usually end at the club, where you all end up catching a cab or calling an Uber back to your respective hotels. You get a decent night’s sleep. And early next morning, you all pretend like you’re not ridiculously hungover for the flight home.
Tonight is shaping up to be the exception.
You think maybe it was Gabriel—though it might’ve been Kimi, who got invited to this room afterparty of sorts and roped you all into it. You spot Doriane by the balcony window, so you figure you must be correct. Mercedes actually does a lot of promos with their F1 Academy drivers, so both of them have been growing friendly throughout the season. You wonder whether you should bring it up with your team.
It’s a quiet murmur when he asks, “You okay?” You tilt your head up, and find that you’ve been leaning against Isack’s shoulders. When did that happen? “You’ve been zoning out for a bit.”
“M’good,” you say, inhaling deeply before nuzzling your head back onto his shoulder. “Just tired.”
Maybe a little socially exhausted too. You’ve lost sight of Gabriel—maybe for the better—with Kimi and Ollie spread somewhere across the room. There’s smatters of familiar faces, faces whose names you can’t quite recall, scattered between the furniture. A few influencers, a few motorsport drivers. Still, it’s dying down, with fewer and fewer people still roaming around.
“Maybe it’s time we head back,” Isack says, and he also sounds tired, strung out. It’s been a demanding week, and you don’t particularly feel like staying up til sunrise.
You turn quietly, lips pressed against the sleeve of Isack’s white shirt. You feel him stiffen under you as you complain, “I need to find Gabriel,” you groan.
He furrows his brows. “Why?”
You grumble. “Because Alpine and Sauber rented rooms in the same hotel, and I made him promise we’d go back together.” Stupid, in hindsight. Especially since Gabriel usually has a lot more stamina than you do for these sorts of events.
You can feel Isack’s hand gently settle around your waist as you move to stand up, offering some sense of stability. Miraculously, you spot Gabriel moving up to the table with a green glass bottle in hand.
“Gabi!” you call.
He looks up, arching a brow, and you can see in his slightly sluggish movements that he’s also far from sober.
“O quê?” he asks.
“Quero—quero voltar ao hotel,” you say, Portuguese clumsy with alcohol.
“We can’t leave now,” Gabriel says, like it’s obvious. He shows you the bottle in his hand—empty—as if that explains it. “We’re about to play.”
Your nose scrunches. “Play what?”
You shouldn’t have asked. At the very least, you shouldn’t have looked at Gabriel when you said it—because all it took was for him to see the annoyance in your face to take it as an opening to drag you towards a circle of people. They’re all sat on the floor, familiar and unfamiliar faces. Gabriel strides to the center and places the bottle there.
“Is this spin the bottle?” you ask, looking up at Gabi as he takes a seat next to you. On the opposite side of the circle, Isack sits down on the last open spot next to a grinning Kimi.
“What are we, children?” Gabriel rolls his eyes with a devious smile. “It’s truth or dare.”
“Much classier,” you respond dryly.
He clicks his tongue, dismissive. “Você vai gostar.”
“Uh-huh. Veremos isso,” you reply, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.
To be fair, Gabi is not that far off—for a while, it is entertaining. Kimi is dared to text Toto saying that his mum is on the fence about letting him drive next week because he’s failing Maths. Isack is asked who his favorite teammate has been during his time in the Red Bull—and he’s promptly booed when he gives the cop out answer of Pepe Martí. Ollie is dared to attempt a handstand, which, as expected, ends poorly. Doriane is asked which drivers she misses most from F1 Academy—and no one is really surprised when her immediate answer is Abbi Pulling. For a dare, you’re forced to text Pierre whether he found his buzzcut had any aerodynamic advantages when driving.
And though you’d never admit it—yeah, maybe Gabriel was right and this is more fun than you expected.
“You are all so soft,” Aurelia says, bringing her plastic cup to her lips.
“I agree,” Kimi says, leaning forward to spin the bottle. “Next person it lands on is obligated to choose dare.”
The bottle spins in a blur of emerald green, progressively slowing until it ultimately lands squarely on Isack.
“What? That’s not fair!” he says, accent thicker. “You changed—”
“Rules are rules,” Ollie says with a loose shrug, and you’re too far away to catch the mischievous glint in his eye. He leans closer to Kimi’s ear, shielding his mouth with his palm as he whispers something to him. If his growing grin is a giveaway of anything, Isack’s not gonna have it easy. Both Ollie and Kimi glance at you simultaneously.
You don’t like it.
“I dare you… to kiss someone in this room,” Kimi says, and Isack stares at him like he intends to sear a hole into his skull.
“What?” he repeats. “I am not going to—”
“C’mon, Isack,” Ollie urges, leaning back against his palms with a laguidness that seems completely opposed to Isack’s tensing back. “Be a good sport. You already saw me nearly split my head against the table.”
Reluctantly, Isack stands up, earning a few whistles from the people around. He flushes, cheeks tinged with a pretty pink color. His gaze catches on Gabriel for a split second, but before he can step forward, the Brazilian boy shakes his head. “Don’t look at me, I am taken.”
Then, as if on instinct, Isack’s brown eyes fall onto you. Your stomach feels tight, fluttering with something you can’t bring yourself to name. He swallows sharply, doing another scan of the circle of people. Influencers, drivers, strangers. He finds you again.
Isack ducks closer to you, kneeling down to be at your level. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears. More whistles, louder this time—
It’s a punch in the gut, realization. You’re the safe option. The only person he can really call a friend that isn’t actively seeing someone. Someone who won’t use this for clout. Someone he knows—someone who’s safe.
Your heart is still racing, but the butterflies in your stomach turn to stones. Oh. Disappointment is a bitter water.
Isack’s hand gently cups your cheek, and you can feel his breath fanning against your nose. He looks nervous from up close. Anxious. Trying to play it off. But his touch is tentative—and when you meet his gaze again, something shifts in his brown eyes. Something you can’t place, but feels remarkably similar to a barely concealed disappointment.
You hold your breath when Isack leans closer, eyes fluttering shut.
You feel the press of his lips against your cheek. He pulls away just as quickly, as if your skin has somehow burned him.
Kimi groans loudly, shaking his head, “Aw, come on mate, that is not what I—”
Isack sits back on his spot, muscles taut and jaw tense. “Don’t push it.”
Your breath still trembles a little, adrenaline still overflowing inside your body. Your mouth feels bitter. Like biting into a fruit, only to find out it’s spoiled.
Besides you, Gabriel side-glances at you once. Twice. Three times. He isn’t nearly as subtle as he thinks himself to be. From there on, the night wraps up as a blur. Eventually, Ollie, Gabi, Isack and you decide to wrap up the night while Kimi stays behind alongside Doriane to go up to their respective rooms.
Ollie and Gabriel wait by the sidewalk, phones open on the Uber app. Isack stays back by your side, both of you sitting against the limestone stairs of the hotel.
He’s been quiet. Quieter than usual. This time, you’re the one not looking at him. Despite the alcohol, despite the exhaustion, your mind feels like it’s running on overdrive. His kiss on your cheek still ghosts on your skin. Is it you? Is that why he didn’t want to kiss you? You fold your arms over your chest, staring at the floor like it’ll give you an answer.
“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier,” Isack finally says like a murmur, a mumbled confession.
You furrow your brows, looking back at him. “What?”
He scratches his cheek, quiet again for a beat. “The… the dare thing. I should have asked you first.”
You’re not sure whether to laugh or not. Your stomach still feels all tangled up. His big brown eyes peer back at you, as if seeking forgiveness. “You just kissed my cheek, Isack.”
He swallows, and he looks like he wants to turn away. Like he wants to pretend this entire conversation never happened. Instead—
Instead. His eyes flicker downwards, finding your lips and lingering for a second. Two. He inhales sharply, licking his own lips when he meets your gaze again.
“Yeah,” he says, a little out of breath, “but I wanted to do more than that.”
Your heart catches in your throat. The glow of orange streetlights illuminates his face, softening his expression. His nose. His eyes. His pouty mouth. “You did?”
He nods hesitantly, then more confidently. “I always do.”
You can see it in the way he holds his breath, the way his whole body seems to brace for impact—like he’s waiting for rejection. For you to turn him down.
You’re the one cupping his cheek this time. Isack freezes on his spot as he blinks at you.
“Isack,” you hum.
He swallows, voice barely a whisper. “Yeah?” He’s a breath away from you now.
“Relax,” you say, and you bring your lips against his. It takes him a moment to reciprocate, but the second he does, you can feel him smiling against you. Your hand falls away from his cheek, and instead reaches for the collar of his shirt, as if you’re not physically close enough to you already. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip. You melt into him.
You hear the shutter of a picture and a flash of light. When you and Isack fall apart, you find Ollie with his phone pointed at you, while Gabriel narrows his eyes at you.
“I can’t believe Kimi missed it,” Ollie says, texting him the picture.
Gabriel clicks his tongue, annoyed. “You just couldn’t wait until we got back, could you?” He types something on his phone. “Now I owe Ollie money.”
And maybe you’d be annoyed at that. But Isack scoffs a laugh and presses his head into your shoulder, flustered. His hand feels warm around your back. You lean your head against his. Maybe. Maybe you could get used to this.
a/n: wrote an alternative game to truth or dare because a better version occurred to me when i had already written this one <3
reblogs and comments are always appreciated!