Call me Peas! Microwavable Peas if you are feeling formal.
I write about people who drive too fast and feel too much. None of it’s real, but it should be.
I love chatting about writing, racing, or anything in between. Come say hi through Yap With Me!
Check Out the Links Below to find my other Masterlists for my projects!
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Main Projects
🏎️ Ahead of the Apex (CS55 x OC {Elena V} Series) (In Progress)
Always the right people, never the right time. Ahead of the Apex is a slow-burn racing saga following Carlos Sainz and Elena Vasilakis. Two members of the F1 world who can never escape each other because the universe seems to always lead them back.
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🎸 5SOS Songs as Drivers Series (Completed)
Leading up to the new album drop. A group of drivers is reimagined and aligned to a 5 Seconds of Summer Song. Including explanation and mood boards!
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🎁 Secret Santa 2025 "Equal Or Greater Value" (Lestappen)
A Secret Santa Fic Gift! Christmas was Charles favorite time of year, and he had spent months crafting the perfect gift for Max. Max on the other hand had to wait until the reminder of Christmas slapped him across the face to remember that he needed to get Charles a gift. He is determined to find the perfect gift that is of equal or greater value than Charles gift to him.
→ Click Here
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If you’ve made it this far, you’re officially part of the pit crew.
Writing might happen alone, but stories don’t live that way. Every reblog, tag ramble, and ask you send keeps the garage alive, and I’m endlessly grateful for this pit crew of readers, writers, and F1 enjoyers who get it.
Summary: The rookies give Elena an hour of peace, which is quickly interrupted by Elenas original rookie. Max. And a guest who she could have never seen coming.
Disclaimer: Mentions of Cheating, Minors DNI
Author Note: The way I create my SMAU's is they will usually give a deeper insight to a characters motivations, more than what was just given in the chapter! If you have any additional types of media you think could be good down the line feel free to DM or Comment! Along with the website I should use to make said fake media screen shots.
See the masterlist for AOTA here.
I’m doing this off mobile because I’m on vacation. I will add the borders later because there is a 10 photo limit on mobile.
Summary: The rookies give Elena an hour of peace, which is quickly interrupted by Elenas original rookie. Max. And a guest who she could have never seen coming.
Disclaimer: Mentions of Cheating, Minors DNI
Author Note: When I tell you Toro has been in the plans since the beginning you better believe it. He has his own board under the AOTA Pinterest Smau Board. ALLLLLLLL THE CAT POSTS? YEP.
See the masterlist for AOTA here.
ENJOY!! Please comment and like! It makes me all excited for people to enjoy something as much as I do
12 Hours Later
In the morning everything felt settled, comfortable. It wasn’t fixed, but it was improving. It felt like she was starting at the bottom of the big hill that she had tumbled down.
Her chest still ached in that strange hollow way grief seemed to settle, and when she stirred, opening her eyes there, was still a moment of disorientation before memory returned. Marco. The empty closet. The 4 bodies staying with her, the warm presences that brought her more peace in the past day with their chaos than she had felt during the last 2 months of her and Marcos relationship.
The apartment no longer felt dead.
It looked like a natural disaster had passed through sometime around two in the morning. Empty wine glasses sat abandoned across the coffee table, all completely empty. Someone had left a shoe near the kitchen island for reasons Elena could not begin to understand. A blanket had somehow become tangled around George’s legs in the armchair while Lando was half hanging off the couch like gravity had been trying to drag him down over the span of the night.
And from the kitchen came quiet movement.
Alex.
Elena watched him silently for a moment from where she sat curled against the arm of the couch. He was loading the dishwasher with the sort of careful concentration usually kept for people who were checking code and disposing of bombs, clearly trying not to wake anyone.
“You know you don’t actually live here, right?” she asked hoarsely as she pushed up and off of the couch, shuffling towards the kitchen where the light was bright even for a room where the sun was coming in the windows.
Alex startled hard enough to almost drop a mug. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, clutching his chest. “We need to put a bell on you. I thought you'd be sleeping till noon.”
A weak smile pulled at her mouth.
“Sorry,” he said quieter this time, feeling bad. “I was trying to clean up a little before everyone woke up.”
“You don’t have to clean my apartment after my relationship explodes.”
“Well,” Alex glanced around at the disaster zone, “the plates, pizza, wine, that all came from us, not the relationship, and no one likes a messy house.”
She huffed out a laugh through her nose.
“So, I have a question that sounds a little strange. How active are you in formula 1 media circles?” Alex placed the last mug into the dishwasher from Elena's 3 cups of coffee the day before.
Elena pressed her eyebrows together in concern and let her hand fall from the table, only to point across the room at Cami who resided on the other side of the love seat. “Deeply entrenched, because of that one. Why? You know that you can’t let the media get to you, they rarely ever have something nice to say.”
Alex seemed to grow more somber as he started the dishwasher and settled on the barstool next to hers. “Well I was going to ask about if you knew who the Grid Gremlin account was run by, they have been finding truly heinous photos of me. But.. yeah I guess the media has bad things to say about me too. Which is just frustrating, you know?” His shoulders slumped and Alex placed his forearms on the marble counter, looking ahead at the stove top on the other side of the kitchen. “They built the car for Max, and Max is… so particular. It is almost impossible to stay consistent if you aren't him, driving like him.”
It was clear he was choosing his words wisely because he knew how Elena felt about his teammate too. “All I am saying is, it's hard to prove myself if my equipment isn’t built for me. And you can’t share this with anyone but…” He took in a little bit of a huff, “I don’t think Redbull will be welcoming me back with open arms next year.” He muttered, looking defeated.
Elena let the tension that had settled in her shoulders fall. Instead scooting closer to Alex, placing a hand on his forearm, rubbing it with her thumb. “Redbull latches onto their successes and are quick to throw others. Max is consistent so they take care of that. But, I have no doubt that you will find where you belong. You will always be at home in this paddock.”
The sound of a phone alarm suddenly rang from somewhere underneath George’s body over on the arm chair. He jerked awake violently, tangled himself further in the blanket, and muttered something deeply British and incomprehensible under his breath while blindly trying to silence it.
From the couch, Lando groaned. “I hate that, can’t you choose an alarm sound other than world ending suffering.”
The apartment slowly began to wake after that.
Cami emerged from the guest bathroom wearing one of Elena’s hoodies and holding a toothbrush in her mouth while scrolling through her phone. George found the last of Marcos' expensive coffee. Lando complained dramatically about his spine as he waited for his drink. Alex made toast nobody asked for but everyone eventually ate anyway.
It felt strange but warm. She felt like surviving something that ugly, had stitched everyone a little closer overnight.
By ten, Cami had organized the boys into helping finish the last storage run. Apparently the storage unit must have been rather big, or the boys were stacking it floor to ceiling and rigging it to all tumble out when Marco eventually retrieved his stuff.
“You’re not coming?” Lando asked Elena as Cami grabbed the keys.
“Nope,” Cami answered immediately, turning to look at her best friend. “You need one peaceful hour before these idiots return and we finish putting this mess back together.”
“Rude,” George muttered.
“Can you blame her? Plus, you snored all last night.” Alex corrected as the three boys, and Cami walked down the stairs and out to the box truck. The blur of voices and complaints about traffic quieted until the condo felt peaceful again.
Elena stood alone in the kitchen holding her coffee, looking around at all the places that once held memories, now new ones, from last night took their place. She was getting ready to call her Mother to break the news when the doorbell rang.
She frowned slightly.
Nobody knocked on doors anymore, it was always a call or text first, or they just barged in the front door, plus all the boys had just gone to the storage locker.
The bell rang again.
When Elena opened the door, Max Verstappen stood there in a black hoodie and sunglasses despite the cloudy English weather, holding what looked like a spaceship. What the… It took her a full second to realize it was a pet backpack. One of the nice clear dome ones.
Just when Elena went to open her mouth to ask what he was doing there, Max turned the backpack around so the plexiglass faced her. Inside sat a tiny orange Maine Coon kitten blinking up at her with massive paws and a deeply unimpressed expression with curious eyes.
Elena stared.
The kitten stared back.
Max shifted, leaning onto his left hip more, uncomfortable at the silence while trying to not drop the two bags of groceries he held in his left hand and the cat backpack in his right. Finally, he spoke while slipping into the doorway past her. “You needed company.”
Her brain visibly struggled to catch up. “Max…”
One bag was overflowing with supplies, from what she could see, cat food, toys, and a scratching post that was still in the packaging.
“You bought me a cat?” she asked weakly as she took a knee, directly in front of the backpack, placing a finger up against one of the air holes for the kitty to smell.
“Technically,” Max corrected, setting down the second bag which held kitty litter and some treats, “I adopted him for you. Paperwork’s under your name.”
Elena blinked at him. “You did paperwork?”
“I can read, Elena.”
“That was not my question.”
Max ignored her entirely, crouching to unzip the backpack. The kitten immediately climbed halfway out before dramatically slipping, having not waited for the unzipped space to be wide enough. He reached his little arms out and caught himself, clinging to Max’s jeans with tiny claws.
“Oh my god,” Elena laughed softly as the kitten dangled there stubbornly refusing to let go.
“He bites,” Max informed her calmly.
The kitten hissed at absolutely nothing.
“Wonderful.”
Max carefully peeled him off his leg before setting him onto the floor where he immediately marched three feet forward with the confidence of a lion before falling sideways onto the rug.
Elena felt something in her chest wiggle and lighten up as she watched the little furrball run around. Enough that she crouched down slowly beside the little guy, fingers brushing gently through soft orange fur while the kitten looked up at her with enormous gold eyes.
“He’s fluffy,” she murmured.
“He is a Mainecoone, about 4 weeks old,” Max corrected.
As if on cue, the kitten attacked the string of her hoodie, which made her laugh again, settling onto the ground entirely to handle the kitten.
Max leaned against the kitchen counter watching her for a moment with that same unreadable expression he always wore when he cared too much about something to acknowledge it directly.
The thing about Max was that he loved people sideways. Whether it was family, coworkers, friends, or a secret love that no one could know about. His love was never entirely direct, or soft, it was mostly shown through action. That was enough.
His love lied in buying someone a cat less than twenty four hours after heartbreak because he knew silence would swallow them alive otherwise.
Elena swallowed hard around the sudden pressure in her throat. “I love him already,” she admitted quietly before glancing up at Max. “But how am I supposed to take care of a cat during race weekends?”
Max shrugged. “The little bull can stay in Monaco.”
Elena blinked, “Bull?” As if on cue, the kitten rammed into her stomach with his full force, like a goat using its horns. His full force wasn’t much, but she laughed again. “Well… okay then little bull.”
She looked back down at him thoughtfully. Bull. Strength. Chaos. Stubbornness.
Toro.
It fit embarrassingly well.
“Toro,” she said softly, scratching a finger under his little chin, making him purr like an engine.
Max nodded once, a smile twitching onto his face. “Toro, as in Bull? I feel like you are creating a prophecy of some kind. Something about a bull in a china shop.”
She snorted, then the rest of his sentence caught up with her. “Wait. Monaco?”
“Jimmy and Sassy stay with the pet sitter already,” he said simply. “Toro can stay with them during race weekends.”
Elena stared at him. “I am not flying my cat from England to Monaco every other week.”
Max looked genuinely confused by the objection. “Then move to Monaco.”
Silence.
Elena blinked slowly. “Excuse me?”
“You need a new start.”
He said it so plainly, like it was obvious. Like rebuilding her life on the other side of Europe was just the next practical step in her healing, in her career. How could he be thinking that?
Max reached over to steal her coffee before continuing casually, moving to pour more coffee into the mug before taking a sip himself, “Alex agrees.”
“Alex Albon? The one who was here ten minutes ago.”
“Yes. Spoke about it yesterday morning.”
“You two discussed relocating me like an injured rescue animal?”
“Well you don’t need to be here anymore, places you shared with him should be paved over, knocked down.”
“Max.” It had always been clear to Elena that Max wasn’t Marco’s biggest fan but this was to an extent that she had not expected.
“And Daniel said he knows a building with openings.”
Elena stared at him in disbelief.
“Lewis offered to help with a couple contacts,” Max continued, counting off on his fingers now. “Valtteri said the quieter side near Fontvieille would probably suit you better because you hate tourists-”
“Max!”
He finally stopped talking.
“You told everyone?” she demanded, now holding Toro under her left arm like some sort of briefcase as he tried to wiggle away.
Max’s expression shifted into something almost defensive for the first time since arriving. “Not everyone.”
“Who exactly qualifies as not everyone?”
Max hesitated, which was already extremely suspicious. Max was not a hesitant man. “Elena…”
“Max Emilian Verstappen, tell me right now or Οπότε βοηθήστε με, θα καλέσω τον Τσαρλς. ”
“Daniel. Charles obviously. Lewis. Valtteri.” He paused briefly. “Charles told Pierre.”
She stared at him, cheeks turning from their usual cool tan to a flushed tone of red, both from embarrassment and frustration.
“And Yuki overheard Pierre.”
“Fantastic.”
“He was very angry for you.”
“How comforting. So the entire grid knows my boyfriend cheated on me and we broke up.”
“They don’t know he cheated, I left it vague, except Charles and Pierre.” Max took another sip of her coffee as if that would give her time to cool down. “Not the entire grid. Carlos doesn’t know.”
A strange sensation washed over her, not exactly relief but not disappointment, maybe it was just uncertainty which was worse.
Elena looked back down at the kitten now attempting to climb her sweatshirt sleeve like a mountain.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly from the way Max had said it so casually. Carlos doesn’t know. Like maybe it mattered, like maybe Max had noticed things Elena herself had spent years trying very hard to ignore. Max didn’t notice things, Max was the king of being oblivious to things, especially feelings and emotions. Was there something she missed? Did someone spell it out for him?
She lifted Toro onto her chest before he could continue his violent ascent toward her shoulder. The kitten immediately shoved his face beneath her chin and started purring loud enough to vibrate.
Elena shut her eyes. The apartment was still messy, her relationship was still over, and her future still looked terrifyingly uncertain. But standing there in the middle of the wreckage holding a tiny violent orange cat while Max silently unpacked litter into her bathroom like this was the most normal thing in the world, Elena realized that perhaps it would take days, weeks, or months, but it was for certain that in order to move on, she needed to make some changes. Starting with the little bull in her arms, and maybe a new place to call home.
If you are looking for the Master List, you can find that Here!
Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x OC (Elena Vasilakis)
Summary: The rookies show up in a hurricane of attempts to remove traces of Marco from the apartment, until he actually calls and Elena has to make some decisions.
Disclaimer: Minors DNI, Cheating, These are Fake Instagram Posts and Text Messages to farther encourage world building of the fic.
Authors Note: The way I create my SMAU's is they will usually give a deeper insight to a characters motivations, more than what was just given in the chapter! If you have any additional types of media you think could be good down the line feel free to DM or Comment! Along with the website I should use to make said fake media screen shots.
If you are looking for the Master List, you can find that Here!
Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x OC (Elena Vasilakis)
Summary: The rookies show up in a hurricane of attempts to remove traces of Marco from the apartment, until he actually calls and Elena has to make some decisions.
Disclaimer: Minors DNI, Cheating, These are Fake Instagram Posts and Text Messages to farther encourage world building of the fic.
Authors Note: The way I create my SMAU's is they will usually give a deeper insight to a characters motivations, more than what was just given in the chapter! If you have any additional types of media you think could be good down the line feel free to DM or Comment! Along with the website I should use to make said fake media screen shots.
Summary: The rookies show up in a hurricane of attempts to remove traces of Marco from the apartment, until he actually calls and Elena has to make some decisions.
Disclaimer: Cheating Accusations, Minors DNI
Author Note: Nothin much this week, but boy am I excited.
See the masterlist for AOTA here.
ENJOY!! Please comment and like! It makes me all excited for people to enjoy something as much as I do
6.5 Hours Later
Morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
Elena woke to the same ceiling, the same gray light bleeding through the curtains, the same heavy silence that had settled into the apartment sometime after midnight and never left. For a few seconds she forgot. Her body still trapped somewhere inside routine. Then her eyes drifted toward the empty side of the bed and the memory returned so violently it almost felt physical.
Marco, The Necklace, Monica.
Her stomach folded in on itself before she could even sit up. The apartment looked exactly the same as she crawled out of bed, trying to feel normal. That was somehow the cruelest part about the whole thing. Nothing, physically, had changed.
His shoes still sat near the front door. His jacket still hung over the office chair in the study. One of his coffee mugs still rested in the drying rack beside the sink because Elena had used it. But it felt like he could walk back in and pick it up at any second.
Her world had ended and the condo had refused to notice.
Elena dragged herself through the morning in pieces. Toothbrush. Shower. Sweatpants. Water she barely drank. Every movement felt so mechanical and distant, like she was controlling someone else’s body from several feet away in a sim somewhere.
At some point she ended up curled into the corner of the couch beneath a blanket she didn’t remember grabbing, staring blankly at the television without turning it on. The silence pressed harder as she realized she’d have to confirm her worst fears, shed have to call him on the bullshit. She’d have to break up with him.
Then- Bang Bang Bang. Three rapid bangs hit the front door, not knocks. Closer to an assault on the wood. Elena flinched upright just as the door burst open. From the force, one would have thought it would be a MI6 raid, yet, there stood her own personal brigade in the doorway, spare key left jingling in the handle as they barged in.
“Okay,” Cami announced immediately, already stepping inside like she was about to purge the plague out of middle age europe. “Nobody panic, but I have caffeine, wine, legal bestie authority, and enough rage to kill a man.”
Behind her came noise. Lando nearly tripped over the doorway carrying two pizza boxes and a grocery bag full of alcohol.
George followed with the deeply concerned expression of someone arriving to help move a body. Part of her wasn’t quite sure if in her daze she had imagined the shovel he was carrying or not.
Alex entered last, quieter than the others, offering Elena a small careful smile the second he spotted her on the couch. He too was carrying something, some flattened cardboard boxes and some packing tape.
The apartment instantly felt too small, it was too loud, and far too alive, compared to how elena looked, and how the apartment felt less than a minute ago.
“Elena,” Lando said cautiously, “you look… terrible.”
“Fantastic start, mate,” Alex muttered.
“What?” Lando defended. “She does,”
“She knows she does.”
“Thank you, Lando,” Elena said flatly.
“You’re welcome.”
Cami ignored all of them, already surveying the apartment with narrowed eyes like she was conducting a homicide investigation, like Sherlock holmes looking for clues. She spotted Marco’s jacket hanging on the hook by the door. “Oh absolutely not.”
The room shifted, and Cami pointed at it like she’d identified a clue that cracked the case wide open. “That will not be accepted, Operation Remove Marco begins now.”
“What?” Elena blinked from her little nest of blankets on the couch.
“Nope. We’re reclaiming the habitat,” Cami decided, picking the jacket up with a single finger like it was contaminated. “Boys.”
Lando saluted immediately. “Captain.” George sighed but was already rolling up his sleeves. And Alex looked toward Elena first, checking if this was okay to disturb her home in the way that he knew they were probably about to.
Elena let out a weak, confused laugh. “You cannot just-”
“We absolutely can,” Cami interrupted. “Legally? Maybe not, but it is technically your home, you are on the lease, and he deserves to leave.”
And suddenly they were moving fast. George started gathering shoes near the entryway with the expression of a divorced father cleaning up after his son.
Lando disappeared into the bedroom, the roller door to the closet could be heard as it opened, then came a yell, “WHY DOES HE OWN THIS MANY BLACK T-SHIRTS? Is he a cartoon character?”
“A couple of them are Prada!” Elena shouted automatically, after being told it by Marco whenever she made comments about his so called classic style.
“Not anymore!”
“You are all insane,” she muttered, sinking back into the couch to watch Alex as he went through the kitchen cabinets.
But for the first time since yesterday, her chest loosened just slightly, not alot, but it was enough for her to to breathe.
The apartment had reached peak chaos by noon.
Boxes lined the hallway. Half of Marco’s closet had vanished. George had somehow developed a labeling system aggressive enough to qualify as bullying while Alex carried sealed boxes downstairs with quiet efficiency.
Lando, unfortunately, had discovered a label maker. Which was how Elena ended up staring at a cardboard box now labeled:
MANIPULATIVE KNITWEAR
“Stop encouraging him,” George sighed quietly,
“I’m not encouraging him,” Cami said, absolutely encouraging him.
Another box passed through the living room. This one read EMOTIONAL DAMAGE & CABLES, and Elena snorts despite herself. It had been less than twenty four hours since her world cracked open and somehow these idiots had turned the dismantling of a two year relationship into a group project. A deeply concerning group project but a group project none the less.
Her phone buzzed against the kitchen counter and everyone froze. With the screen lit up everyone could see the profile photo that was glowing as the phone rattled against the marble.
Marco.
The air in the room shifted, not stale, but more so stiff. Like the oxygen had been pulled tight. Elena stared at the name for a long second while it continued vibrating against the countertop.
Marco Calling.
Once the phone went to voicemail, it was only silent for a second before it started buzzing again. Then again after that.
“He’s persistent,” Lando muttered.
Cami’s face darkened instantly, eyes shifting to her best friend whose source of pain was on the other side of that phone. “Decline it.”
But Elena didn’t, instead her stomach started to twist as she picked up the phone. For a moment she just looked at it, his photo was one she took on one of many a flight she accompanied him on, he had always insisted on first class.
For a moment she just looked at it. Then she pulled the phone across the screen to pick it up. “Hello?”
Marco exhaled sharply on the other end, immediately irritated rather than concerned. “Oh, so now you answer.”
Every muscle in Elena’s body stiffened. Around her, the apartment had gone silent. Lando had paused the music, and Alex was half way through taping the top of another box, tape stretched wide, frozen as he watched her.
Marco continued before she could respond. “Are you done with this little hissy fit you’ve been throwing since yesterday? Because ignoring my calls is getting ridiculous.”
Something inside Elena went still, cold in a way she hadn’t expected. Like she was still being held together by ice freezing the broken parts into place. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the bedroom. Behind her she could practically feel everyone watching.
Elena shut the door carefully, the silence in their bedroom… her bedroom felt heavy. The room felt smaller even though without his stuff it practically felt empty.
Marco sighed again. “Elena?”
“You bought her a necklace.”
A pause came on the other side of the phone. Tiny but it was there. Then, “What?”
“The necklace,” Elena repeated calmly. “The one hidden in your desk drawer, a poor hiding job by the way.”
Marco laughed once under his breath, already defensive. “Jesus Christ, are we seriously doing this?”
“Yes.”
“It was a gift.”
“For Monica.”
“No, it-”
“For Monica,” Elena cut in, “The woman from work, from your team.”
The silence this time was much longer, and suddenly Elena knew. It was no longer just a suspect feeling, she knew. Her throat tightened painfully. “You went to karaoke for her,” she said quietly, as if that was the most important part of her boyfriend cheating on her.
Marco sounded exhausted now, annoyed. Like this conversation was happening to him instead of because of him. “Elena-”
“No, because I asked you to do that for years.” Her voice cracked slightly despite her effort to stop it, throat feeling tight as the words squeezed past. “You told me it was stupid.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what is it about?”
He exhaled hard through his nose, almost a distraction. Not almost, it was a distraction, because Elena knew, that on the other side of the phone he was searching, calculating a response to make her move on from the whole incident.
“You’ve been impossible to talk to lately.”
Elena almost laughed, “There it is.”
“You’ve been miserable for months.”
“There it is.”
“You’re never home, you’re always working-”
“There it is.”
Marco snapped slightly, “Will you stop saying that?”
Part of her felt smug, making him snap, not taking his constant deflection, trying to turn her concerns back onto her. So, in the moment of confidence, she asked the real question, the one she wanted to ask in order to get answers. “Have you been cheating on me?”
Silence. And it wasn't the silence of a man who was trying to plan out his next sentence. It was real silence, silence of a man who could no longer hide behind denial and outrage. Somehow, that hurt Elena more than if he had just admitted to it instantly. She sat slowly on the edge of the bed, fingers tightening in a grip around her phone.
“When?” she whispered finally, like asking another question would snap Marco out of it.
“It just happened.”
That was a lie and she could hear it.
“It didn’t just happen.”
“Elena-”
“How long?”
“It’s not serious.”
That answered nothing and everything simultaneously, Elena shut her eyes. “You know what’s funny?” she said softly. “I spent all night wondering what I did wrong.”
Marco groaned quietly like he was tired of the conversation already. “This doesn’t need to become dramatic.”
Elena looked toward the bedroom wall. Toward the space where a photo of her and Marco kissing in front of an italian fountain once hung, towards the life she thought she had. She finally asked the question sitting like glass in her chest.
“Did you ever love me?”
Marco didn't hesitate, he just stayed quiet before saying the cruelest possible thing, because cruel people often mistake honesty for superiority. “You didn’t think this was forever, did you?”
Elena physically recoiled and for a second she genuinely could not breathe. Two years of love, of being her everything, of being someone she sacrificed things for, saw a future with, and he didn’t think they were permanent. Something final settled in her chest, a understanding that their relationship meant two different things to them.
When she spoke again, her voice had gone frighteningly calm. “Stay in Milan.”
“What?”
“You can stay there, and be happy, with Monica.”
“Elena, don’t be ridiculous.”
“No.” She stood slowly, building a sense of overwhelming self respect. She did not need to be treated like this. “You are not coming back here.”
“Are you seriously throwing our entire relationship away over something stupid like this?”
The audacity of it almost made her laugh. “You already threw it away.”
“Elena-”
“We’re done.”
The words landed with terrifying simplicity. She didn’t have to ask anything more, she knew, that she was done.
Marco started talking immediately after that. Faster now, and sharper too, defensive panic finally slipping through the cracks in his cool demeanor. But Elena no longer cared enough to listen, so she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up.
With the silence playing front and center now that Marco was no longer pleading his pathetic case, her ears started to ring, and her hand shook. For a moment she just stood there staring at the bedroom door, trying to gather herself back together. Then she reached for the handle, pulling it open-
-and four fully grown adults collapsed directly into the room.
Lando hit the carpet first.
George stumbled sideways into the dresser, catching himself via his forearm and trying his best to look nonchalant.
Cami nearly took Alex down with her while trying to pretend she absolutely had not been pressed against the door five seconds earlier.
The entire pile froze, and Elena just stared at them. But, they also stared back. Alex, still half way pinned under a leg, who he wasn’t exactly sure who it belonged to, raised a hand, then a finger slightly. “We were checking the emotional stability of the door.”
George looked at him ridiculously, immediately questioning the logic of his sentence, before checking back to Elena's face.
And against all logic, against heartbreak and humiliation and the ache still clawing through her chest, Elena burst into laughter. Body shaking, stomach aching, real laughter, the kind that bent her in half unexpectedly.
Cami pointed at the phone that must have fallen to the ground during the entire interaction, because it was screen down on the rug two feet away from the pile as they all re-established their dignity and got off the ground. “Please tell me you dumped him.”
Elena nodded once and the room exploded. Lando threw both arms into the air like someone had won a championship. George shouted, “YES,” far louder than necessary, and Alex looked genuinely relieved.
And Cami… looked murderous. “Great,” she said, standing back up. “Now we move faster.”
“What does that mean?” Elena laughed weakly, quite unsure of where her best friend was going with this.
“It means,” Lando announced, climbing off the floor, clearly on the same page, “we’re taking his freakishly good tailored suits to storage.”
The rest of the afternoon dissolved into movement.
Trips downstairs, boxes stacked into the back of a rented box truck (Because none of the formula one drivers owned a car that was actually practical). George somehow managed to organize an actual storage unit spreadsheet before they even left the house to get there.
Cami remained fueled almost entirely by feminine rage and iced coffee made with all Marco’s expensive italian espresso.
At one point Elena stood in the nearly empty closet while tape ripped behind her and realized the apartment no longer looked haunted by him, by the feelings that crept in when she was alone. Was the apartment messy? Yes. Destroyed? Perhaps. But it was no longer theirs, no longer his.
By evening, the music had gotten louder. Pizza boxes multiplied across the kitchen counters.
Someone, definitely Lando, had connected to the speaker system again and started building what he proudly called a “post-breakup recovery playlist,” which mostly consisted of club music and songs nobody emotionally stable would select during a crisis.
By the second round of drinks things devolved completely.
Elena only noticed the Wi-Fi had changed because her phone disconnected. MARWHO? appeared at the top of the screen. She stared at it for two full seconds before another startled laugh escaped her.
“There she is,” George said softly from beside her where he was nursing his third slice of pizza and some wine.
That almost broke her more than the cheating had. Not because of Marco, but because these people had come without hesitation. No conditions. No explanations demanded. No careful negotiations about whether she deserved support. They had simply arrived in a manner that was loud, messy, and loving.
And somewhere between Alex arguing with packing tape, Cami threatening to burn Marco’s remaining skincare products, and Lando attempting to dance on the coffee table that broke under his weight, Elena realized she was crying again. Only this time she was laughing too.
Which somehow felt worse and better.
By midnight the apartment looked destroyed by Pizza cartons, Half-empty cups, and a lamp sitting sideways for reasons nobody could explain. But Marco was gone, at least the version of him that had once lived here was.
The condo finally looked disturbed enough to match how Elena felt inside.
Most of them had fallen asleep wherever they landed. George sprawled awkwardly in the armchair. Lando halfway hanging off the couch. Alex cleaning quietly in the kitchen despite Elena insisting he didn’t have to.
Cami sat cross legged beside Elena on the floor, exhaustion finally replacing adrenaline and neither of them spoke for a while. The silence felt different now, it was still painful, but survivable.
Cami eventually pulled out her phone. Elena barely noticed her typing, instead it was Alex who leaned over the kitchen island trying to get a peek of the phone. When Cami got up to help Alex in the kitchen, he leaned over to her, lowering his voice so he couldn’t be heard. “Who was that?”
“It was Max, figured he needed to know the situation.”
“And how did that go? I am picturing vehicular manslaughter via a rouge redbull car.”
If you are looking for the Master List, you can find that Here!
Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x OC (Elena Vasilakis)
Summary: After weeks of nonstop travel and racing, Elena finally returns home expecting nothing more than rest, routine, and the quiet comfort of the life she built with Marco. But in the stillness of an empty apartment, small details begin to shift out of place, and Elena finds herself confronting a feeling she can no longer explain away.
Disclaimer: Covid-19 Pandemic, Quarantine, Minors DNI, Cheating Accusations These are Fake Instagram Posts and Text Messages to farther encourage world building of the fic.
Authors Note: The way I create my SMAU's is they will usually give a deeper insight to a characters motivations, more than what was just given in the chapter! If you have any additional types of media you think could be good down the line feel free to DM or Comment! Along with the website I should use to make said fake media screen shots.
Summary: After weeks of nonstop travel and racing, Elena finally returns home expecting nothing more than rest, routine, and the quiet comfort of the life she built with Marco. But in the stillness of an empty apartment, small details begin to shift out of place, and Elena finds herself confronting a feeling she can no longer explain away.
Disclaimer: Covid-19 Pandemic, Cheating Accusations, Minors DNI
Author Note: Okay! We are back to our regularly scheduled programing, hopefully, for at least a couple weeks before I have a work trip. But Yay! It's about to get interesting.
See the masterlist for AOTA here.
ENJOY!! Please comment and like! It makes me all excited for people to enjoy something as much as I do
October, 2020
Perhaps it was just a long weekend that was now in her rear view mirror, but the moment she brought her bags into the condo, they fell onto the ground and she walked her way up to the stairs practically half asleep. A shower and sleep was the only thing on her mind as she pushed the door open to the dark and cold bedroom.
Two weeks, two weeks just about between her and the next race, and thank goodness, fitting 17 races into a time gap that usually only held 12 was exhausting and it was only half way finished. When it started she could not wait to get back onto the track, and she was still grateful for it, being able to do what she loved when the world was only slowly starting to turn again was a blessing, but it was times like these when she wanted to enjoy her rest.
Elena didn’t even bother shutting the blinds because the lights stayed off. It was just her, Marco was still in Milan on a business trip, important enough to be one of the few members on a team who coke let travel cross countries. But, being that the apartment was in a limbo with both of them being gone, coming back to a cold and dark apartment, Elena didn’t want to disturb the dark quite yet. She undressed silently, letting her slacks fall quietly to the ground before shuffling towards the ensuite bathroom. There, she flipped on her tiny water proof warm light lamp along with the shower, and moved to stand under the warm water for what felt like hours.
Besides the basic scrub down and hair wash, she spent what felt like an hour doing nothing but relaxing in the warmth, trying not to fall asleep. When she climbed out and dried off, her hair went up, what was usually a minimum 30 minute hair routine, turned into a silk scrunchie pulling it up. No reason to deal with it properly tonight when she was planning on staying in bed for the next 24 hours.
By the time she walked into the kitchen in one of the robes Marco had bought her, she realized she needed to eat properly. It was too late to order food, so some noodles it is. Elena placed the pot of water on the stove, and pulled some of Marco’s mothers homemade sauce out of the cupboard.
When it all first started and Marco was cooking all the time he would try to recreate it, but always claimed it was missing something despite how close he followed the recipe. So, when Elena went to Tuscany for work, she had a mysterious package of jarred home made sauce show up at her hotel along with a hand written letter for her to take back to Marco.
Maybe it was because she was physically drained, or mentally exhausted, but damn if it was not some of the best sauce she had ever had. Placing her dish in the sink, to be done in the morning, which would drive her boyfriend crazy, Elena shuffled back to her bathroom to brush her teeth then crawl into bed.
After checking her phone for a good night text, she let the phone fall to the side on the mattress and she closed her eyes to hide from the darkness of the empty apartment. Hiding quickly became sleep after a bit of time.
Lunch on the third day home came with a phone call, Cami.
“Tell me how is it, that we have been away from the track for less than a week, and I am already – scraping together content for this week's blog posts?” Mid sentence Elena could tell when Cami flopped onto the couch just by her voice.
Her plate clacked as it was placed on the table, Elena took a seat on one of the barstools, putting the phone on speaker to talk and eat at the same time. “Already? I would have thought you’ve been stashing away gossip for years at this point. Besides, you aren't being paid for that? I think your readers don't mind if they miss a few days of updates, there is no pressure.”
Cami clearly didn’t like that response, “Elena, if I don’t post then people don’t read. Some people like reading my content, and I worry if I stop posting for more than a week or a few days then no one will remember my blog exists, and they won’t be interested in reading it when I finally post again.”
Mouth full of a bite she had just taken of a deli sandwich, Elena hummed, “Ah. I understand.”
“You should know all about that.”
“Yeah, but the problem is when I forget to post-” Her phone buzzed on the table, drawing her attention to it. “-Cam I gotta go, Marco is calling me, he’s been in meetings all morning. I will call you back though.”
“Yeah no worries girl! Just call me after you are off the phone. I am scrounging through my notes app.”
A finger sliding across the glass screen switched Cami’s profile photo to Marcos in an instant. “Γεια σου Όμορφος. How was the associates meeting?”
There was some noise in the background, clinking glasses, plates settling, they were probably out to a late lunch.
“It went well. We are actually just sitting down for lunch.”
*Nailed it.* “That is good, I am glad. Is it you and Leo?”
Marco covered the phone for a moment to talk to the hostess where he said they had a reservation for 5, since that was the only way restaurants did sit down meals. “Yes, Leo, and the rest of the team and I. Edward, Monica, and Gio.”
He wasn’t one to talk about his coworkers much, so it didn’t surprise her that there were some names she hadn’t heard in passing conversation. “That is nice, are they keeping your same team when you go to London next week?”
“Oh yes, I meant to tell you, they had hotels booked already, before I could tell them I could just stay at home. So I will stay there friday night, then come home to you on saturday. I do not trust myself driving late at night after a meeting.”
Elena took another bite of her sandwich, ripping the hard crust off the sourdough. “Do not want you driving home exhausted, the two hours on the road can get to a man, and I would prefer if you made it home in one piece.” Some laughing could be heard in the distance on the other side of the phone. “Well it sounds like they are enjoying themselves without you, go join them, yes?”
Familiar silence, then an amused exhale, sounds she had come to know and love from her boyfriend. “Sì, eccellente. Bene, ci sentiamo più tardi?”
“Perfetta. I love you, talk to you later.”
It was good timing, when Marco hung up, Elena slid off the barstool and onto the cool flooring of the apartment. Washing her dish, she made some progress, a wave of cleaning motivation washed over her, so she took it to her advantage. After she put away all the dishes, she tidied up the livingroom, fluffing every pillow, then took one of her couch rotting blankets and carried it to her bedroom, folding it and placing it on Marcos' side since he wasn’t there at the moment.
A small USB rested on the left side of the night stand. Picking it up, Elena reunited it with the little attached cap and slid it into her pocket, moving back towards the study, where Marcos desk resided. Settling in his spinny office chair, she pulled open the left drawer, pulling the USB out and placing it in the drawer. Back in the shadows of the drawer a small box caught her eye. A little velvet box.
Hidden by someone in a rush to leave before a business trip. Her fingers hovered over it before she actually touched it, a hesitation she couldn’t quite explain. She didn’t go through Marco’s things. Not because he had ever said she couldn’t, just because she never needed to.
A quiet thought slipped in before anything else could. This must be it. Her chest tightened, slow and steady, like something being drawn tight.
It would make sense. In the way things sometimes only made sense after the fact. The distance during the beginning of the season, the trips for work, the half finished conversations. She had filled those spaces with patience.
Her thumb brushed over the velvet, soft beneath her skin. Elena leaned back slightly in the chair, breath catching somewhere between her ribs as her mind moved ahead of her.
Summer.
Not loud, not crowded, just open. Air moving freely. It was warm but not suffocating. The kind of late afternoon heat that settles into your skin and makes you glow, instead of pressing against it. It was somewhere coastal, she could hear it before she could see it. The low, steady rhythm of water against rock, not crashing waves, something calmer.
Stone beneath her flats, worn smooth with time. There was light spilling from behind big stone arches. Late afternoon light, turning everything soft and blurry around the edges.
She could feel herself standing at the end of something, an aisle, though it doesn’t feel like one. No rigid lines, or forced symmetry, just a natural path, leading forward towards the alter.
There are people there too, she can feel it. All standing, watching her as she moves down the isle, shapes, colors, movement. Someone laughing softly, dress material shifting in the breeze. It was all beautiful and effortless.
For a moment she tried to focus on those who stood near seats on the isle. Nothing, there were no faces in the crowd, or in the front. Not even the figure, Marco, waiting for her at the altar. Simply glowing outlines of people she knew she loved.
She walked up the few steps at the front, onto the alter, and turned towards the figure waiting for her at the end. An outline, still, and patient. Waiting for her.
Elena’s breath hitched, something in her chest tightening just a fraction more, though she couldn’t say why. Her attention snapped back to the present, the small box still resting in her hand, suddenly heavier than it should have been.
“This is ridiculous,” she murmured, quieter this time. For a brief second she put it down, standing up, “Δεν θα του χαλάσεις την έκπληξη Έλενα.” She took about 3 steps before turning back around to grab it, lifting the top with her thumb as if it were glass and would shatter if she peeked too quickly.
The box was fresh, clean, brand new. She told herself she was just being picky, that only Cami had really heard endlessly about how Elena loved the little unique ring boxes. Cami. Did Cami know? Had Marco asked her what kind of ring she would like? Had he asked her father? During their last trip home? Or maybe over a call. Elena wondered what it would look like, not that she cared all that much, maybe just a few preferences here and there. The lid gave with almost no resistance as it pulled open.
Inside, nestled neatly against the velvet lining, sat a necklace. Elena blinked, as if the split second of closing her eyes would change the real world around her. Not a ring. Oh.
Something in her chest loosened, just slightly, it wasn’t relief, but it also wasn’t disappointment either. Just a bit of a change, a recalibration of her expectation. She didn't need a gift, Elena was rarely even a girl who wore jewelry, but, if Marco had put the thought and effort into getting her a necklace.
Her fingers moved along the chain pulling it slightly taunt so she could lift the pendant, allowing it to catch the dim light from the hallway. It was simple and elegant, which was exactly something she knew he would choose. Something that was thoughtful without being excessive.
Her thumb turned it over and there was an engraving. Small, very precise to fit on the backing of the pendant. Elena leaned in and squinted slightly, as if the angle and light were wrong, which had to be why the letters didn’t look right.
They weren't the right ones. No E’s or L’s. Elena frowned, adjusted the pendant in her fingers again and read it, slower this time.
Monica.
The name sat there, unmoving. Certain. For a second, her brain didn’t attach meaning to it. It was just a word, letters etched into metal.
Monica.
Her brows pulled together faintly, something tightening at the edge of her awareness.
Monica.
He had said that name. Hadn’t he? Lunch. Just on the phone, not 15 minutes ago. Edward, Monica, and Gio. Her grip loosened slightly on the chain, the letting it slink gainst the inside of the box.
“Okay,” she murmured under her breath, though it wasn’t clear what she was agreeing to. It was just a gift. That made sense, it had to be. She was a coworker, her birthday, maybe. A thank you. Something that was work related, people did that, people buy gifts for colleagues all the time.
Her mind moved quickly, slotting explanations into place, each one just convincing enough to settle the unease trying to rise.It was thoughtful, if anything. That was Marco, so thoughtful. Maybe overly so, for a coworker, but- Her lips pressed together for a brief moment. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t hers to question.
Elena clicked the lid closed softly, and lowered it with careful precision, back into the drawer, as if it had always belonged exactly where it was.
She stayed settled in his work chair, looking at the drawer as the dark of the room settled around her, then she stood, too quickly. The chair rolled back slightly behind her with a quiet creak as she moved out of the study, the motion abrupt enough to feel disconnected from the calm she had forced herself into.
It’s nothing.
Elena crossed back into the bedroom, smoothing a hand over the already flattened blanket on Marco’s side without really seeing it. Her movements had become automatic now, muscle memory guiding her more than intention.
She should finish cleaning. Or eat something else. Or—
Her phone. Right, Cami had told her to call her back. Cami would knock some more sense into her, tell her she was imagining things. Elena reached for the phone, unlocking the screen, and stared at the open text thread for a second longer than she had wanted to.
Elena typed out a quick message to Cami, ‘Give me a minute, I’ll call you.’
She set the phone back down, and didn’t pick it up again. The apartment felt… off. Not wrong, just slightly misaligned, like something had been moved half an inch out of place and she couldn’t quite locate it.
She moved through the kitchen again, rinsing a dish that was already clean, wiping down a counter that didn’t need it. Her mind kept drifting, circling back to the same point before pulling away again.
Monica.
A coworker.
That’s all.
Elena exhaled slowly through her nose, grounding herself in the small, controlled motions of cleaning. The familiar rhythm helped. It always did. By the time she finished, the thought had dulled into something quieter. Background noise.
Manageable, but something in her mind kept whispering, Just ask him. He will have an explanation. Be logical, treat it like a free practice, find the root.
She had her phone back in her hand before she could talk herself out of it again. He has an answer, ask him.
Hitting his contact, she let the phone ring, tucking it between her shoulder and ear as she leaned back against the counter.
“Back so soon?” Marco asked lightly, tone easy, familiar. There was a brief shuffle on the other end, the murmur of voices and clinking cutlery still present in the background, like he had excused himself from the table.
“Yeah, I just had to talk to you again, it’s driving me mad-”
“Good to hear I run through your mind.” he said, distracted, like his attention was already split before the call had even connected. “I forgot to mention-”
Elena hummed softly in acknowledgment, only half listening as she traced the edge of the countertop with her fingertip, waiting for her opportunity to ask her question, to ease her mind.
“We may have to rain check our nightly call tonight” he continued, distracted, like his attention was already drifting back to the table. “We’re probably going to stay out a little longer. Monica found this karaoke place that’s still open- apparently it’s empty because of all the restrictions, so-”
Everything stopped. Not gradually. All at once.
Elena’s finger stilled against the counter, her breath catching halfway in.
Karaoke.
Of all things.
A flicker of something- small, almost ridiculous- surfaced before she could stop it. A memory, not even a real one, not vivid. Just a suggestion of a memory that came and went long ago.
Passing by places like that in different cities. Bright lights, muffled music bleeding out into the street. She had glanced once, maybe twice. Thought, briefly- That could be fun.
She dismissed it just as quickly. It was not their thing. They had laughed about it once, hadn’t they? Called it loud. Pointless. A waste of time. Marco thought it was a way for a man to make a fool of himself.
But Monica found this place.
Elena's grip tightened slightly around the phone as she grabbed it from the crook of her neck.
So… it was Not their thing. Or maybe just not with her.
The box, necklace, name, now this? It slid across her chest like a knife with devastating precision.
“You still there?” Marco’s voice cut back in, faintly edged now, like he’d noticed the shift without understanding it.
Elena didn’t answer right away. Her gaze had gone unfocused, fixed somewhere just past the wall in front of her. “Yes,” she said finally, voice void of emotion, flat, nothing like her joy from before, or even the anxiety that lingered seconds ago.
“…Okay,” he replied slowly, a hint of confusion threading through the word. “Anyway, I was saying-”
She pulled the phone away from her ear. For a fraction of a second, she looked at his name on the screen.
Then she ended the call.
Silence settled over the apartment so quickly it almost rang.
Elena stayed where she was beside the kitchen counter, phone still loose in her hand, her arm half bent like she had forgotten what she’d been doing with it in the first place. She swallowed hard, though her throat felt strangely dry. Her chest had tightened somewhere beneath her ribs, breathing suddenly requiring more effort than it should have.
Her phone lit up in her hand.
Marco.
The vibration made her flinch. She stared at his name across the screen while it rang once. Twice. Three times. The sound felt unbearable now. Too loud against the stillness of the apartment.
It stopped.
A message appeared almost immediately after.
What was that?
Before she could think of whether to answer, the screen lit up again with another incoming call. Elena watched it ring. Her thumb hovered near the screen without touching it. Some part of her knew that if she answered, she would hear his voice and immediately pretend everything was fine. She would smooth it over. Laugh softly. Apologize for hanging up. Tell him the call dropped.
Because that was easier. Because she didn’t even fully understand what this feeling was yet.
The ringing stopped again. Another message.
Are you seriously hanging up on me?
Her stomach twisted. Slowly, Elena lowered the phone onto the counter face down, like simply looking at his name had become too much. The silence afterward felt worse. At least the ringing had been something to focus on. Now there was nothing.
Just the sound of her own breathing growing thinner and thinner until she finally realized she wasn’t breathing properly at all. Her hand slipped from the edge of the counter as her knees bent beneath her without warning. The movement felt clumsy, delayed somehow, like her body had made the decision before her brain caught up to it.
The tile hit cold beneath her legs. A sharp breath caught high in her chest, refusing to go any deeper no matter how hard she tried. Elena pressed the heel of her palm against her sternum instinctively, like she could physically force her lungs to work normally again.
There was someone else.
The thought wouldn’t stop looping now, not hidden away somewhere distant, and not hypothetical. Real enough to engrave into metal, real enough for karaoke bars and inside jokes and lunches with coworkers she had never met.
A sound escaped her throat before she realized it had, small and broken and humiliating in the quiet apartment. Her hands came up hard against her face. How long had she been standing beside him while part of him belonged somewhere else?
The question struck so suddenly it made her fold forward against herself. Every late night at work, every trip where he was considered an indispensable employee. Every moment she told herself she was being unfair for wondering why he felt farther away lately.
Elena’s breath shook violently as another thought forced itself in before she could stop it. Maybe he hadn’t changed, maybe it was her, and she had just stopped being enough for him long ago.
For a few seconds she simply sat there curled against herself on the kitchen floor, staring blindly at the cabinet across from her while the apartment pressed inward around her.
Then suddenly, violently, she did not want to be alone.
Her hand moved for the phone almost desperately this time, fingers fumbling slightly before she managed to unlock it. Cami’s contact sat near the top of her recent calls. Elena stared at it through blurred vision for half a second before pressing call.
The line barely rang once.
“Elena?” Cami answered immediately, cheerful at first. “Did your hubby finally stop being-”
“I found something.” The words came out strained and uneven, like they had scraped their way up her throat with two icepicks.
There was a silence, but not for long, just long enough for cami to hear the change, and change her tone along with it.
“…What happened?”
Elena pressed the heel of her hand hard against her temple before speaking again. “There was a necklace.” Her voice cracked slightly, trying not to sob again, not into the phone, not to be a nuisance for her friend. “It had someone else's name on it.”
There wasn’t a space, no time to find words to say, just a jingling of keys, “I’ll be there by morning.”
If you are looking for the Master List, you can find that Here!
Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x OC (Elena Vasilakis)
Summary: For more than a decade, Formula 1 has kept them in orbit. Carlos Sainz Jr. is chasing wins, contracts, and the weight of expectation. Elena Vasilakis is building her dream career behind the pit wall, one strategy call at a time. From DAMS to Ferrari, they grow side by side but never in step, always the right people, never the right time. Until...
Disclaimer: MDNI. These are Fake Instagram Posts and Text Messages to farther encourage world building of the fic.
Authors Note: So sorry guys, I graduated university, did a public speaking talk, and moved all in the last two weeks. It has been quite the month. With that being said, this is a speciality smau to set up the rest of the era! Please bare with me as I get back on track.
So a little update. Obvious this week, there was no chapter. But, I am excited to announce within the next week or two I should be back to our regularly scheduled programming!
Besides my very big public speaking gig, I also GRADUATED FROM UNIVERSITY!
So, there will not be a chapter or SMAU for Monday the 13th or Thursday the 16th. I will be preforming at MAJOR PUBLIC SPEAKING EVENT which is SO EXCITING! However, it means I will be quite focused and doing dress rehersals all week.
Hopefully this is the final no chapter week of AOTA! But, I highly doubt it...
Thank you guys so much for all the support and continuing to read and comment!
We will be getting some Carlos and Piñon content within the next era so I will gift these to you all now!
If you are looking for the Master List, you can find that Here!
Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x OC (Elena Vasilakis)
Summary: Quarantine hit everyone like a freight train. Suddenly the race calendar was bare and people were stuck at home. Elena and Marco are left to navigate their new lives at home.
Disclaimer: Covid-19 Pandemic, Quarantine, Minors DNI, Inaccurate Max Verstappen Pet Timeline (I know he didn't have Jimmy and Sassy yet in 2020, but he does now because I say so.) These are Fake Instagram Posts and Text Messages to farther encourage world building of the fic.
Authors Note: The way I create my SMAU's is they will usually give a deeper insight to a characters motivations, more than what was just given in the chapter! If you have any additional types of media you think could be good down the line feel free to DM or Comment! Along with the website I should use to make said fake media screen shots.
Hi! I was wondering if you could use the "keep reading" page break on your long posts? When someone is scrolling through a tag on the mobile app, the app sometimes crashes if you're scrolling on a post too long. Thanks so much!
Yes!! I am so sorry guys! I thought it automatically added them after a certain word count!
Summary: Quarantine hit everyone like a freight train. Suddenly the race calendar was bare and people were stuck at home. Elena and Marco are left to navigate their new lives at home.
Disclaimer: Covid-19 Pandemic, Quarantine, Minors DNI, Inaccurate Max Verstappen Pet Timeline (I know he didn't have Jimmy and Sassy yet in 2020, but he does now because I say so.)
Author Note: So this chapter felt like a blast from the past because I was in high school when it happened, I remember being so excited to get a few weeks off. That turned into jacking up my entire high school experience. Hopefully this captures the sign of the times.
The chapter covers multiple months, but theres no obvious scene changes, blurring together like days did during quarantine.
Also this is a BIG WEEK for me. I'm so nervous and have a big event on friday so wish me luck. We are coming up on the end of my semester and university experience so my posting may get a little blotchy. Please bear with me!!!
See the masterlist for AOTA here.
ENJOY!! Please comment and like! It makes me all excited for people to enjoy something as much as I do
March 13th, 2020
March didn’t feel like disaster at first.
It felt more like a pause.
The street below the condo went quiet in layers. First the traffic thinned. Then the tourists vanished. Then even the delivery vans stopped double parking on the street downstairs.
The air changed.
It wasn’t dramatic, or scary really. Just… flatter. No airplane trails stretching across the sky. No background roar from the nearby motorways. Just an odd, hollow stillness, like someone had turned down the volume on the world.
Inside, the refrigerator hummed louder than she’d ever noticed before.
The email had been open far too long. Elena wasn’t even reading it anymore, just staring at the same line, over and over, like her brain hadn’t caught up to what the words meant yet.
Australia postponed.
Postponed.
Not canceled.
Not gone.
Just… not now. Not in 2 weeks like they had been preparing for.
“Elena?”
She didn’t answer, didn’t move
Marco’s footsteps were quiet against the hardwood. She barely registered him until his arms slid around her from behind, warm, solid, familiar.
He pulled her back into him without asking, chin brushing her shoulder.
“You’re going to burn a hole through the screen,” he murmured.
She exhaled, slow. “They’ve delayed Melbourne.”
He went quiet, long enough to read the subject and a few key lines.
It was clear he hadn’t been warned yet, so this was fresh news that they had to tell the teams first, so the teams could tell the sponsors.
Marco tightened his hold slightly, one hand flattening against her stomach, grounding.
“Okay,” he said, not dismissive, or alarmed, just reevaluating the situation before responding.
“It’s not just Melbourne,” she added. “They’re reviewing Bahrain. Vietnam might go too.”
He hummed, thinking some more, then he pressed a kiss just behind her ear, soft and absentminded. “It’s a week,” he said. “Maybe two.”
Elena didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed on the screen. She was supposed to have left two days ago, be in Melbourne with the team but James had called and told her to hold off, that news would be coming.
Marco shifted, turning her slightly in the swivel barstool so she had to look back at him over her shoulder. “Hey.” His voice was gentle and reassuring.
“This is the first time you’ve stopped moving in… what, years?”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
It still felt so, gutting.
“We’ll take it,” he continued, “Sleep in. Eat real food. Be a couple, of two normal people, for just a minute.”
Another kiss, this time to the side of her head, lingering. His nose was pressed into her hair, she could feel him breathing through the changes.
“It’s like a forced vacation.”
Vacation. The word didn’t sit right, but it didn’t feel wrong enough to argue with. A few weeks, just a little bit longer than the teams got for winter break before testing. She could do that.
Elena leaned back into him again, her back pressed to his chest. She let herself be held.
For a second it worked and she felt like the world was no longer breaking. Then her laptop chimed again, it was another email from her work account, which meant another update.
She pulled away, not fully, just enough to where she could reach the keyboard and click on the brand new email. It was just responses to the delay from other teams, nothing that should concern her, yet she felt sick again
Marco didn’t stop her when she reached for the computer, his hands lingered a second longer before dropping.
“Come back to bed?” he asked.
Elena glanced at the screen, then at him. The panic of her emails could wait until later, until it was no longer 3 am.
“Yeah,” she said closing the laptop, taking his hand and shuffling back to their shared bedroom.
By that afternoon, Bahrain had followed in the way of Melbourne.
By evening, Vietnam.
By the next morning, flights were being “reviewed,” then “adjusted,” then quietly canceled altogether.
The calendar didn’t collapse all at once.
It just emptied.
One notification at a time.
Elena’s laptop seemed to take a permanent residence on the kitchen table, cables sprawled across placemats that were meant for dinner guests they’d never had time to invite.
Marco’s laptop stayed in the study, door half closed, light always on.
Lockdown created strange intimacy in the condo.
Marco started cooking because Elena burned pasta twice in the first week. Not a little joking burned, she blackened it. The smoke alarm wailed so loudly the neighbor knocked on the wall to see if they needed to call the fire brigade.
He took over after that.
“Sit,” he’d say, tapping her hip lightly with the back of his hand. “You’re not allowed near fire anymore. You handle the wine, Yes?”
She rolled her eyes but watched him move around the kitchen with calm precision. He always played music from his phone, sleeves pushed up, jaw relaxed. He chopped vegetables like it was meditation.
Some nights, they ate on the floor with plates balanced on knees, laughing when sauce dripped onto the rug. Other nights they sat on the kitchen counter and ate directly from the pot.
On occasion, they even get to the ‘making dinner’ part of it all.
Sex filled the hours the world gave back to them.
Many lazy mornings were spent tangled in sheets. Afternoons when she was supposed to be in meetings but wasn’t because he had lured her away. Marco jokingly called it a good substitute for the gyms being closed.
It was the kind of intimacy that felt like reassurance, like proof that things were still solid, still good, still theirs. Elena cherished every one of those days that forced her to slow down and breathe.
Though as days turned into months the days of quiet bliss slowly turned stagnant. They were back to work, but not in the normal way. Races were still an unknown variable but cars still had to be designed, and sponsor agreements still had to be created.
Marco started asking about her schedule on certain nights, it was harder to find time now that they were both back on somewhat schedules stuck in the small condo.
“Do you have to take that call tonight?” he asked one evening while plating dinner.
“It is a call to work on strategy now that we created the new wing.” she said, filling their glasses with tonight's drink of choice.
Marco nodded slowly, then said, “There aren’t even races. How can you be working on strategy?”
He wasn’t wrong, without a set race calendar the strategy meetings on zoom were just Mercedes' way of getting everyone on a call to ensure they kept their minds sharp. But his words landed heavy anyway.
Later that evening, Elena was mid sentence on a call, pacing the hallway without realizing it. She had smuggled her headphones with the mic back from Brackley when she got to go get her things. Marco leaned out of the study, watching her pace for a moment before she finally noticed that he was there, he gently pressed his fingers to his lips.
Elena nodded, covering her mic before whispering, “I’ll move to the dining room.”
Days blurred.
She disinfected groceries even though she knew it was irrational. Marco washed his hands until the skin on his knuckles cracked. They ordered takeout less and cooked more. Delivery windows stretched from days to weeks.
News played constantly on the tv in the background, world panic seemed to grow, countries were closing borders and it slowly seemed like the race calendar would disappear entirely.
Outside, a neighbor clapped from their balcony every evening at eight. Someone else started playing the trumpet badly at nine.
Inside, time lost its shape.
It was sometime around noon, but Elena didn’t have anything else on her schedule, the only meeting she had was at 6 am, but that was because certain team members were still in Australia.
“You’re still in pajamas.”
Elena glanced down at herself, plaid fuzzy pants and an old university t-shirt. She shrugged glancing into the doorway of the study, Marco was wearing a collared shirt, his meetings probably had a camera. “It’s lockdown.”
“It’s still a weekday.”
The doorbell startled her.
That was a sound that had sort of fell by the way side when no one came to the door anymore. Even the food delivery drivers just put the bags down and walked away.
She waited for a long moment staring at the door, like she’d forgotten what it meant.
Marco appeared in the hallway.
“Did you order something?”
“No.”
When she opened the door, the box filled up most of the doorway. It was far too big to be anything casual.
The box was tilted, and she struggled to get it up and over the doorway ledge, it was heavy. Eventually Marco helped her drag it to the space between the living room and the kitchen.
Elena Vasilakis was printed cleanly across the label. Well, that answered one question, but so many more popped up in its place. There was no company branding, and no explanation. But, it was the most excited she had been in weeks.
Rushing to the kitchen, she grabbed a knife and quickly walked back, settling on her knees next to the box. Marco stood a few feet away, arms crossed like he was supervising.
She cut it open there on the floor, folding back the cardboard flaps and pulling back some of the foam layers.
There was metal. Wiring.
She pushed a few packing peanuts out of the way and came across a steering wheel, wrapped in plastic and protective foam. Then Pedals.
Elena's breath caught when she realized what it had been.
Her phone buzzed on the ground next to her, a message came in.
🇳🇱The Child🇳🇱
You look bored on calls. This will fix it.
Now you have no excuse to avoid me.
She couldn't help but laugh, as silly as she wanted to say that it was, she was grateful.
Marco leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, watching as she pulled each part out. “He sent you… a cockpit.”
Elena ran her fingers over the shifters on the steering wheel, “He sent me a way to be connected.”
She didn’t wait, or think it over. It took about half an hour for Elena to rearrange the guest room, the bed was now pushed in the corner, and the bedside tables were split, one went into the closet for storage and the other was kept for a side table to the sim.
The entire sim was built in one afternoon, there were pieces spread across the floor, and the instructions had been somewhat discarded after the fifth page. She understood F1 cars for a living, how difficult could this be?
Now there was something to do, something to solve, something to make her feel alive.
Marco watched from the guest room doorway for a while, then he disappeared down the hall and back to the study.
The first time she logged on, it felt like stepping into another room. Into a garage. Into a home that felt like a memory.
“Welcome back to civilization,” Lando’s voice crackled through her headset as she joined the call.
Elena smiled before she could stop herself, “It’s been so long, I think I forgot what engines sound like.”
George scoffed, his name lighting up on the call frame. “We’re about to traumatize you.”
“WAIT-” Alex’s voice cut in, distant and panicked. “I’M STILL LOADING-”
The simulated engine noises roared to life in her ears. Sure it was artificial and digital, but it was perfect.
Hands gripped the wheel as the lights went out. The first time she took the corner she missed the apex and slid into the gravel some.
She didn’t seem to care, laughing it off as she recovered on the track.
To be fair, she was paid to understand and build cars, not race them.
A few days into her new hobby, Marco slipped into the guest room during his lunch break.
“They don’t need to rely on you.”
Elena looked up from her phone, genuinely confused at the nature of the statement.
Marco was leaning in the doorway, watching her with that same easy expression he sometimes dawned when he was trying to be convincing.
“They’re my friends,” she said.
“Of course,” he replied immediately, “I just mean-” Marco sighed, “-I don't want you to burn yourself out.”
“They’re bored.”
“So are we,” A glass of water was placed next to her, “but, whatever makes you happy, Coccinella.” Marco placed a kiss on her head before walking back to the doorway.
Midnight slowly became her favorite hour.
Marco went to bed relatively early every night, she’d kiss him goodnight, and close the doors, then take off across the condo, down the stairs and around the corner in soft padded footsteps.
It was routine.
When the sim powered up and the call was joined the room came alive.
It was no longer just George, Lando, and Alex in the calls. Now there was a frequent group of drivers who joined up for races. From Daniel Riccardo, to Charles Leclerc, Max of course, and even Pierre. Carlos sometimes joined, but not many words were exchanged between them besides comments about placements.
The argument still stung in her chest a bit whenever she saw his name on her screen, but time is what they needed. And, she loved Marco, so if it came to it? There was a clear decision.
It took a few weeks of consistently driving to get to a point where she could be competitive with any of the drivers. The engineer side of her had to learn to use instinct over the urge to know everything, it took lots of trial and error, running into walls, and solo track time.
Elena's trial and Error got to the point where Max had video called her, demanding that he watch her do a couple laps so he could give her a tip or two. He claimed that her performances were making a fool out of engineers everywhere.
Apparently, the translations of knowledge to application were more difficult than she had expected.
They raced without talking much.
Just the sound of engines and the occasional “You are shifting too late.”
“You’ve been saying that all evening.”
“Because you are.”
It reminded her of her time with Max in the Toro Rosso garage, but now it felt like the roles were reversed. It was no longer her criticizing and giving advice to him, now Max was giving her the advice.
But, it was comfortable. She had forgotten over the quarantine how much she missed being around him, even if it was just a short conversation after a race.
“Wait,” Max said suddenly, reaching for his camera, adjusting it, tilting it down slightly.
Two cats climbed into frame like they owned it.
One draped himself over his shoulder. The other attempted to sit directly on his keyboard.
Elena melted instantly. “You have cats?”
“Obviously.”
She leaned closer to the screen, like that would somehow make them real and she would be able to pet them. “I always wanted one.”
“Get one.”
The answer was so simple it almost hurt, but it was Max, that man didn’t know how to be subtle, so to him, it was just as simple as it seemed.
A smile appeared, small and tight, along with a ghost of a shrug. “Marco’s allergic.”
Max didn’t hesitate, he never seemed to. “Dump him. Cats are better anyway.”
Elena laughed, shaking her head, choosing to believe that he was joking, but she also knew that Max very much was not.
“I won’t.” A decision was made, and her voice dropped, getting softer rather than quieter, “I think he’s the one.”
Max didn’t laugh, he was mid way through lifting the cat from his shoulder, and was now unmoving, staring at the screen, head lifted slightly.
“Do you think that,” he asked evenly, “or are you convincing yourself?”
Elena looked away first, she had complained to Max plenty of times over the quarantine but it was because she liked feeling connected to him and bugging him with text messages of complaints was a good way to do that.
“Max, Relationships plateau,” she said quietly. “They stop being loud. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong. And it isn’t like all relationships aren't under stress from the quarantine.”
Max shrugged, “Cars don’t plateau.” That was his way of focusing the conversation back on the sim race. He clearly didn’t have much else to say about it.
And somehow that wasn’t reassuring.
The session wound down not long after.
A quick goodnight and Elena pulled off her headset, letting it rest around her neck for a second before setting it aside. The sim powered down with a soft hum, the room settling back into silence.
She padded down the hallway and up the stairs, the apartment dim and still.
The bedroom door was half open, and Marco was already asleep, like he had been for nearly 2 hours.
She slipped inside, leaned down, and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. He shifted slightly, not waking, a content noise slipped from his lips and it made her smile. He looked so unguarded in his sleep.
Elena lingered for half a second then climbed into bed on her side, sliding under the covers, turning onto her back as the quiet settled back in.
If you are looking for the Master List, you can find that Here!
Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x OC (Elena Vasilakis)
Summary: During pre season testing in Barcelona, Elena and Carlos are left alone, and in finding their groove again, a nickname becomes the final straw to break the camels back.
Disclaimer: MDNI. These are Fake Instagram Posts and Text Messages to farther encourage world building of the fic.
Authors Note: The way I create my SMAU's is they will usually give a deeper insight to a characters motivations, more than what was just given in the chapter! If you have any additional types of media you think could be good down the line feel free to DM or Comment! Along with the website I should use to make said fake media screen shots.
Summary: During pre season testing in Barcelona, Elena and Carlos are left alone, and in finding their groove again, a nickname becomes the final straw to break the camels back.
Disclaimer: Real Angst. Argeument that goes unresolved.
Author Note: Y'all... This chapter ended up being over 4k words. So it took a long time to write. I think the next few chapters will be longer, so it may take a bit longer to get them out. Expect some delays, hopefully not many though. ALSO PRAY FOR ME. I am getting sick. BUT WE ARE GOING TO STAY CONFIDENT AND SAY NO I AM NOT.
See the masterlist for AOTA here.
ENJOY!! Please comment and like! It makes me all excited for people to enjoy something as much as I do
Barcelona, PreSeason Testing 2020
For being the home of beaches and hot summers, Spain had its moments, and the pre-season tests always landed right in the middle of their cold months. Elena was bundled in her Mercedes Parka sitting on the edge of the pit watching the car be inspected before getting on the track.
It was the first time all day she hadn’t had something in her hands or was running to complete some task. The first time she had really noticed how cold her hands could get when in the garage. Opening and closing them into fists, she tried to circulate the blood so she could stay warm.
“Elena” A familiar voice warmed her chest as she turned to find the source.
Marco walked towards her, glancing at his watch before he adjusted his tie which was tucked under the vest of his suit. He always looked so put together and handsome, even if it was 15 degrees out. Maybe it came with the territory of working with sponsors but Elena couldn’t pinpoint one time Marco had looked even borderline disheveled in their entire relationship. Unless, well, getting out of bed in the morning or after sex didn't count, though he didn’t look half bad there either.
“Well Hello Ομορφος, How are you doing?” She leaned up to meet his eyelevel, leaning in for a kiss, only to get averted to pecking his cheek.
“Hello Coccinella,” Marco glanced over Elena's shoulder, “I have been meaning to ask you, Lando.”
“Lando?” She settled back flat on the ground and tilted her head, “A strange question.”
⇆
Carlos POV
So Lando did not like sushi. That was something new that Carlos had learned that day. To the extent of practically falling out of his chair while trying to get away from it. Media days were always at least entertaining, and with the blocks before the days testing it was a welcome change of pace.
“Oi, that was evil Carlos. Pure evil, you can’t just come sticking fish near me.” Lando narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “We haven’t even gotten to the first race of the season and I am ready to put you in a wall.”
Joking. Carlos hoped.
They crossed through the narrow passage of a motorhome and out into the paddock. It was emptier than he was used to Barcelona being. So full of life in May, yet January was cold, like the flowers of noise were scared to open up because of the frost.
Lando stopped short of the seating area. A movement which almost caused Carlos to knock Lando clean off balance.
“Why are you stopped? I want to go sit down.” He weaved around the man and into the seating area but followed his line of sight before he could stop himself.
Elena.
She stood across the paddock, half turned away, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, holding pieces from falling in her face. A habit she picked up at most warm race circuits, just because it was chilly here didn’t mean the sun wasn’t out. Marco was standing beside her, saying something that made her tilt her head to listen to him.
It was familiar, and something in Carlos’s chest shifted, quick and involuntary. Suddenly he longed for the crowds of May even more.
Lando glanced sideways at him, clearly what had happened in Carlos’s chest was not nearly as subtle as he had hoped.
“Mm,” Lando hummed, pursing his lips and looking away as if trying not to draw attention to himself, yet he muttered “So that’s still a thing.”
Lando had become one of Carlos’s closest friends in the paddock, and it wasn’t just because they were teammates. Well, maybe it was because they were teammates, but somewhere between all the flights to and from tracks, and race weekends, he and Lando had grown a bit of a bond. Which often came with the territory of talking about life stuff.
Carlos didn’t look at him. Instead, pulling out a chair to sit down like nothing had happened. “It’s not a thing. You are imagining things.”
Lando dropped into the seat across from him, clearly unconvinced but he also wasn’t pushing quite yet. “Am I?” he said, leaning back. “Because I’m pretty sure I remember you in Spain, talking about how you were trying to get over it.”
Carlos reached for a water bottle he had grabbed earlier while passing one of the coolers, twisting the cap more than was truly necessary to get it off.
“Yes. She is happy,” He said, simpler this time, “and that is good. That is what I hope for her.” And he meant it, which was what surprised him a bit. Though it probably shouldn't have. He did mean it. Carlos wanted her to be happy, and he had promised himself, and her, in a metaphorical and silent sense, that he would leave it be and get over it with time.
Lando narrowed his eyes slightly, staring for a second longer than he should have.
Carlos knew that with the territory of Lando being a close friend, that he was also Elena's friend. He knew about the Christmas get-together, and how the 3 class rookies followed her all last season, so part of him hoped Lando would have something more to say.
He didn’t. Not really anything of importance like Carlos was hoping.
“Alright, that's good. Just-” Lando hesitated, glancing at him, then away. “Don’t make it weird, yeah?”
Carlos narrowed his eyes. “Weird how?”
Lando huffed a quiet laugh. “You know exactly how.” There was a moment where Carlos stayed silent, expecting Lando to continue, and it worked. “You two are… you two. Just don’t mess that up.”
Carlos didn’t answer right away, this time he wasn’t trying to prompt more words from Lando but it was working too well now. Lando shifted in his seat, already regretting that he’d said anything remotely serious.
“…Also,” he added quickly, pointing at him, “your hair looks ridiculous today.”
Carlos blinked, pulling his eyebrows together. “What?”
“It does,” Lando insisted, leaning forward like this was suddenly the most important topic in the world. “It’s too perfect. No one trusts that.”
“It’s called taking care of yourself. I think your hair could be curly if you used the right product.”
“It’s called trying too hard,” Lando shot back. “You’ve got, like, good helmet hair without the helmet. It’s unnatural.”
“Hold on, don’t change the subject.”
“I am not!” Landos voice jumped an octave when he lied, putting his hands up defensively.
“You are, what are you not telling me.”
Lando leaned back in his chair shrugging and looking off in the distance like he chose silence over spilling anything. However, Carlos knew damn well that Lando loved to talk, so he’d say what was on his mind if he was prompted correctly, for Carlos it was just a waiting game.
Carlos squinted, pretending to let it go. For now.
“...Anyway,” Lando said, dragging the word out as he shifted forward, grateful for the subject shift. “Bring sushi near me again and I am deleting your personal set up.”
Carlos blinked, “My what?”
“Your sim,” Lando said, dead serious. “Gone. Wiped. Finished.”
“You wouldn’t be able to get to it.”
“I will fly to Madrid, bribe some people to get into your home, and unplug it.”
Carlos huffed a laugh, “That is an immature reaction no?”
“You’re Immature”
“I am very mature”
Their banter continued for a little while, the conversation drifting from racing to other pastimes.
Carlos shook his head, a smile peaking out the corner of his mouth despite himself. Things felt normal again, relaxed, like the sighting of the woman across the paddock didn’t happen, and he didn’t feel the need to look again.
⇆
Elena POV
Elena spotted them before she meant to, she had just been scanning the paddock while Marco checked his phone. Carlos and Lando were half laughing over something at one of the flimsy plastic tables they often put in the paddock for lunch when they had food trucks.
Marco followed her line of sight. “Ah,” he said, like he’d just located something on a schedule, which he technically had. “There he is.”
Lando. Well now it made sense.
They crossed the space between them quickly, Marco already shifting into that polished version of himself Elena knew too well. Even if he always looked put together, he had a different approach when it was work vs personal. His shoulders squared, expression shifting to more open but measured.
“Gentlemen,” Marco greeted as he lifted the small gate into the seating area.
Elena watched as the boys shifted, to turn in their seats to see without having to stand up.
“Hope testing’s treating you well,” Marco added smoothly. Elena had tried to really describe in depth the necessity for testing weekends, and Marco understood it, to an extent, then it was a lost cause, so he seemed to just stay vague.
“Trying to survive it,” Carlos replied, just as even, twisting the cap onto his water bottle, making sure it was properly closed, even if it was empty.
Lando, who was already half-smiling, shrugged. “It sorta feels like a necessity, but, i will say it’s far too cold to be so close to so many beaches and not be able to go because of work.” He complained.
Marco’s attention slid from Carlos to Lando easily. “Actually, this is perfect timing. I was looking for you.”
Lando blinked. “That’s never a good sentence.”
Elena knew very well that Marco came over with the intention of talking to Lando, but she let him do his little perfect timing bit.
“Just a quick thing with marketing, we need you to come watch the final product of the ad for approval,” Marco said. “Won’t take long.”
Lando looked immediately to Elena with a faint help me pity look, but got nothing in return except a faint shrug. So he tried the same to Carlos, and although it seemed he got more sympathy from Carlos with a little “Better you than me” he knew he wasn’t getting the escape help he wanted.
“Traitor,” Lando muttered, pushing his chair back.
Marco was already turning, confident Lando would follow. Then, as if remembering- “Elena,” he said, softer, turning to her, “We are still on for lunch?”
She nodded, moving closer to him, “Yes of course.”
“Good, I will be back. I am looking forward to actually having proper food.” He turned to the boys as if giving an explanation, “I have some connections who agreed to get us food that isn’t from a food truck.”
Turning back to Elena he leaned in. Her breath caught, automatic and unthinking, excited over something romantic, something in her expecting-
The moment was redirected, a simple kiss pressed to her forehead. Brief and neat.
“Don’t disappear.” Marco added, already pulling away.
She knew how Marco felt about PDA, so she didn’t know why she expected a passionate kiss. Maybe it was because it was pre season, there were no crowds, no media cameras, nobody here who didn’t already know they were dating. Maybe that’s why she was hopeful he'd kiss her like he meant it.
Turning to walk with Lando back to the trailer. Just like that, he was gone, with Lando trailing behind him, dragging his feet.
⇆
Carlos POV
Carlos had meant it. He could still hear himself saying it to Lando not five minutes ago, calm, certain, like it had finally settled into something real.
She’s happy. That’s enough.
And it had been. It absolutely had. Elena being happy was all he needed to feel like he was making the right choice.
He looked beyond the couple during their little moment, only seeing details in his field of vision. Carlos watched Elena lean in, just barely. The kind of lean that only someone who knew her hesitation patterns would notice, the kind of hesitation where she moved without committing to it.
There it is.
The final nail in the coffin, the epilogue of the book that was never written.
It would feel good.
Marco would meet her half way, close the space, and make her glow when she pulled away, like a giddy little girl.
He doesn’t.
What?
The kiss is too quick and lands too high. Somewhere between being too careful and too careless.
A thought flickers, its fast and unkind, gone almost as soon as it formed.
That’s not how you-
He cut it off quickly, making sure to not finish the thought about how the kiss was something out of a school yard hiding behind the swingset, oops.
Carlos took a breath and told himself, it doesn’t matter. I’m over it. The words came easy and rehearsed, and he actually still believed them.
His eyes drifted back to Elena before he could stop them, just for a second, observing her. She hadn’t moved. Marco had walked half way across the paddock and Elena was still frozen there, like she too had been expecting something that didn’t come.
Like she was waiting for a kiss that meant more.
Now that it was just them, nobody moved, Carlos didn’t break the silence, and neither did Elena.
The world kept moving around them. Lando and Marco disappeared, and some Alpine crew pushed a rolling cart by, clattering on the pavement.
Finally, Elena moved, crossing her arms like she was holding herself in place, hand hooked in the crook of her elbow, fingers pushing into the meat of her bicep. “Well,”
Carlos huffed a quiet breath and returned the sentiment, “Well.”
She nodded idly as if trying to find a reason to leave the situation they had been left in, and Carlos couldn’t even blame her. “Are you going back to the garage?” She asked, pushing in the chair Lando had once been sitting in.
She was ready to leave, he gathered that much.
“I was going to, Yes, do you mind company on the way back to your garage?”
Elena nodded, “I wouldn’t mind.” They started a slow stroll down the paths, “I have been meaning to apologize actually.”
Apologize? What could Elena have to apologize for? She had done nothing wrong.
“Apologize?”
“Yes, well, Alex may have told me that Lando has been blasting music all weekend in his driver room.”
Oh yes. Lando’s music was quite loud. Not necessarily bad, he was getting into DJing, so he was mixing his own music. It was just always inconvenient times when Carlos had 5 minutes to himself in his drivers room to nap, and Lando would start a listen through of whatever project he was working on. But what did that have to do with Elena?
“It could be worse.” Carlos tried to reason, defending his friend.
“Well, I got him the Deck for Christmas. I was his secret santa, but the one with the headphone jack wouldn’t have been there on time.”
Oh, that's why she was apologizing.
“Ah, yes well that is bad. I will simply never forgive you. My eardrums are permanently damaged and my naps will never be peaceful again.” He said with a playful smile as he kicked a small rock off the center of the road.
Elena rolled her eyes, an amused huff escaping her nose. “Okay that is a little dramatic don’t you think? I did not even get him a amp or speakers.”
Carlos stopped walking for a moment, looking at her with wide eyes, “No speakers? Oh Dios mio. Elena, if he gets a speaker the entire grid will hear him.”
She laughed, it was easy and unforced. The kind of laugh Elena would give around anybody, he remembered it. In restaurants with cami somewhere half way across the world. In hotel rooms long after the track went cold. In an arcade where a little stuffed hamster held all of her focus.
For a second, and only for a second, it felt like both everything and nothing had changed. Like this was still something they remembered how to do, without things tied up behind it. Maybe it could just stay like this, this, would be perfect.
The walk was quiet after that, like walking alone but more… comfortable. They slowed near the Mercedes garage bay, only a few up the row from Mclaren. The noise picked up again now that they were trackside instead of in the quiet paddock.
He followed her in for a brief moment, she had been on auto pilot and must have forgotten he was there. Carlos watched her go to grab her tablet, and look for the stylist she usually used. Grabbing it off the work bench, he held it out to her, “Here.”
It was nice to know that no matter what garage it was, they all had their flows, and Elena was still Elena. It was hard to admit, but Mercedes suited her better than Toro Rosso ever did. Just like he hoped McLaren suited him.
Elena took it without looking, turning back to the work station for a brief moment. “Thank you, Αστέρι.”
The word came back like getting sideswiped off a track in the car. But, without the safety gear. It rung in his ears, raw. Carlo’s face turned cold, his jaw tight. “Don’t.”
“What?”
Elena didn’t even hear herself say it, or it meant so little that it didn't matter. It was like a symphony playing in his ears, deafening replays of every time she had called him Αστέρι in the past 5 years.
He finally dragged his eyes up to meet hers. Tense, each part of his mind wanted to say something different, but his mouth moved before he went through them all.
“That. That—” He gestured between them, jerky hand motions, slowly transferring from disbelief to anger and frustration. “You don’t get to call me that. Not while you are with him.”
Her entire body seemed to have a slight reaction. A recoil of sorts, as she tried to decide how she wanted to face the accusation. Classic Elena. Wanting to decide on the best response to an issue to keep the high ground.
“What are you talking about?”
So she went the denial path. That was… unexpected.
His voice sharpened slightly, “¿En serio?” He turned to walk a few paces before turning back, “You call me your star like its nothing - like it doesn’t-” Carlos groaned, How could he express this in a way that makes sense. “-do you have any idea what this does to me?”
Now he had given her no choice but to respond. The color visibly drained from her face. “...You know?”
He laughed once, not a fun laugh, but more bitter. How could he not know?
“I’ve known for almost two years, Elena. Dos años.” He held up two fingers to make his point.
Now the anger turned to pain, a pit of dread and disappointment grew in his stomach. There was so much more he wanted to say in the moment, “Every time you say it, Cuando me llamas por ese nombre.” He went silent before speaking again, quieter, “I don’t know if you mean it or if it’s just- just habit, just something you say because it’s easy.”
Elena crossed her arms, “It doesn’t mean what you think.”
“Then what does it mean?” he fired back, stepping closer to her. He wanted to reach out and stop her from running away, even if he had never known her to run from anything. “Porque no se lo dices a nadie más.”
Elena didn’t speak more than base level Spanish. Carlos knew that, but he also knew she’d get the clues, and at the moment she was silent, she understood. His pain and anger softened for a moment as he watched her jaw work.
“You only say it to me.”
Her hazel eyes shifted around his face, and he could practically feel the thickness in the air. It was suffocating.
“I’m trying to keep things simple.”
Carlos’ jaw tightened again. “You don’t get to call it simple.”
The words come out before he could even smooth them over, before he could make them easier for her to take. To mean more of what he wanted to say. Elena’s brows pulled together immediately, and something defensive flickered across her face. He already knew that he was pushing too far, and saying too much.
But he didn’t stop. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it?
He never does.
“It’s not simple,” he added, quieter now, but worse for it. He lifted his hand in a vague, frustrated gesture between them, like he couldn’t quite grab hold of what this was supposed to be. “It’s never been simple. Not with us.”
Carlos heard himself and almost winced. Now he was being too honest and it was straying too close to something he said he’d already let go of.
You’re over it.
He’d meant it. Sitting across from Lando, it had felt solid, like something settled into place. Like he could finally exist around her without it pulling at him.
She’s happy. That’s enough.
So why did it still feel like this?
Elena exhaled, and Carlos knew she was gathering herself to defend. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Of course she didn’t, or maybe she did… and that was the part that got him.
Carlos let out a short breath, “That’s the problem.”
She frowned. “What is?”
He met her eyes, there was no easy version of this left to give. No way to not seem like the bad guy, to not accuse her of something, it was a dead end road he was barreling down anyway.
“You keep acting like it doesn’t mean anything.”
He dragged a hand over his mouth, trying to pull himself back, trying to find that line again where it could be manageable, where this is just… them.
He’d thought he could keep that.
The lighter version of her. The version that laughs with him, walks beside him, says his name like it belongs in her vocabulary.
That he could lose the rest and still have this. But, it doesn’t work, and it never did.
“You say it,” he continued, quieter now, like he was forcing the words through something tight in his chest, “and then you act like it’s nothing. Like it’s just habit. Like it doesn’t-” He cut himself off, jaw tightening, the rest of the sentence collapsing before it could make things worse.
Before he could.
“You keep it here,” he said, tapping lightly against her chest with one finger, over the Mercedes lanyard, before letting his hand fall. “And then you pretend it doesn’t exist anywhere else.”
And that’s when it clicks. This- this is the part he can’t do.
Yet, he had been trying to hold onto it anyway. The in between. The version of them that didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t push too hard, didn’t force anything into the open.
Friendship, he’d called it. Like something neutral. Like it didn’t come with weight.
It did. With her, it always did.
Elena’s expression flickered, recognition, maybe, or something close to it. Like she knew where Carlos stood now, like she knew it was going someplace she couldn't stop it from going. Her hands dropped to her sides.
“That’s not fair.”
Carlos nodded once. “No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
He let the silence sit for a moment.
“That’s kind of the point though, isn't it.”
Silence settled between them again, it was heavier now. He looked at her, and for a second it almost pulled him back under. How easy it would be to fix this, to step back into that familiar space and make it lighter again. Say the right thing. Let it go. Keep it simple, the way she wanted.
He knew how to do that.
He had done it for months.
But it would never be enough.
And it would never stop feeling like this.
So maybe this…
this mess, this sharp edge between them… was better.
“Elena! Are you ready for lunch? We have a reservation in 15 minutes.”
Elena didn't look away from Carlos, letting Marco's call linger, before finally calling back. "Yes, I am ready Marco, let me grab my bag quickly." And with that, she walked farther into the garage and dissapeared.
Pit Crew, I just finished the chapter for this next week. It's over 4k so be ready, we've got some angst coming.
Also I fear I am getting sick. (AGAIN????) But im going to go into this with the mindset I am def not. I have too much stuff to do this upcoming month to get sick.
