𝐅𝟏 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

(RQ. 35) [63] George Russell

Request by WHIFF99 I hope you like it! x

"You're really drunk right now. I don't think you're gonna remember any of this." "No, I'm not drunk at all. You're just blurry."

Your phone buzzed once, twice, then it started ringing. You looked at the clock, it was already past midnight. With a yawn, you picked up your phone to see who was calling you.

'Lando' the caller ID said.
You raised your eyebrows slightly and picked up the phone. "Hey, Lando." you said, a slight questioning undertone in your voice. "Hey, Y/N." he answered.
"Is everything okay?" you asked as only rattling could be heard for a moment.

"Um, not exactly. It's nothing serious but-"

"God damn, George! Just stand still for a moment." you could hear Alex grumbling in the background.

"We went out for a drink. And George overdid it." Lando finally said. You ran your fingers over your forehead. "George?" you asked to make sure you hadn't misheard. "Yes, George." Lando answered as if he knew what you were thinking.

"He doesn't want any of us to drive him home. No matter what we say."
You yawned again.
"He says he only wants to go with you."

"Sure, where are you? I'll take him home."

Lando gave you the address. It wasn't that far away, and it wouldn't take long to get to George's house afterwards.

George and you met in the paddock a few years ago. Your father had bought you a ticket for your birthday, and you were in the pit lane before the race had started. George was over the moon with you from the second he saw you in the crowd.
You quickly became inseparable, and it became a very special friendship.
You felt safe with George.

Never would either of you have thought that this race would change your lives so much. It wasn't every day that you met your future best friend at a Formula One race.

"Wait, I can prop you up." you said as George tried to get out of your car.
Alex and Lando wished you good luck when you picked him up and only got a sarcastic look from you. "I can do it." he said and got out of the car, clearly drunk.

"Did you bring your key?" you asked when you were outside the front door. "No, it's-" he started, but then was overcome by a wave of nausea. "I know where it is." you said, signalling that he didn't need to talk any further.

You unlocked the door and helped George take off his jacket. "Go to the bathroom and get out of your clothes, you have huge stains on your shirt. And maybe take a shower." you said as you hung the jacket on a hanger. "I'll bring you some new clothes."

You could hear the running water when you came back with some new clothes. Waiting for George to finish, you slid down the door and yawned.

"C'mon." you said, helping him now anyway. George was as drunk as he's ever been.

"You know, I always wanted to show you my home. Make it yours." he babbled.

"You're really drunk right now. I don't think you're gonna remember any of this." you said, and you helped him upstairs to his room.
You knew his house, he had already shown it to you. Nevertheless, your betraying heart beat a little faster at his words.

"No, I'm not drunk at all. You're just blurry." he turned his head to you.
You giggled at his sentence.

George laid down in his bed, and you opened the window a little. "I'll be downstairs on the couch if you need anything. Just call me." you said softly with a caring smile, standing next to his bed now. "Oh, and there's a glass of water on your bedside table."

You were about to turn around when George took you by the waist and pulled you to him. "Stay." he whispered.

Giving in you crawled onto his bed. It smelled like him.

"Why would you drink so much?" you asked him. It was unusual for him to drink that much. Normally George would be the one driving you home.

"They hate me." He said and his voice sounded pained. "What?" You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, surprised. You had sat cross-legged next to him, but now you moved close to him and rested your head on his shoulder, your hands wrapped around his arm.

"They did that on purpose, I would've won the race." he said, playing with your fingers. And then you understood. He was talking about the Mercedes incident. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, how could he think that.
"George, they do not hate you. It was heartbreaking, but I'm one hundred percent sure they didn't do it on purpose." You stroked his arm. "They don't hate you."

"I wanted to make everyone proud. I wanted you to be proud." he said, looking into your eyes. He wanted to win the race. He wanted to kiss you so badly, as the winner who kisses his one true prize.

Your lips parted, and you sadly smiled at his words. "You always make me proud, George. Every single race."

After a moment of silence, not at all uncomfortable, you finally whispered, "You should sleep.".
You slowly lifted your head and wanted to get up. Your hands wanted to loosen from his arm, but he let his hand slide into yours and didn't let go.

"I'll sleep on the sofa if you need anything." you said lovingly.

"You could sleep here." he said, still quite drunk. "You'll see me again soon enough." you grinned and closed the door, turning off all the lights on your way to the living room.

Oh, how you would have loved to fall asleep next to him.