Formula 1 One-Shots (I)

Mick Schumacher [Decorating]

A/N Easter special for everyone who likes Mick.

WARNINGS: /
WORDS: 890

"No, no, no!" Micks voice suddenly rips me out of my thoughts. I was laying in the garden enjoying the first warm sunrays of the year when he almost shouted this word for three times.

Curiously, I stand up and walk the few steps trough the living room into the kitchen where Mick is seated at the table. Infront of him are some colours and a few eggs as well as some paint brushes.

"What exactly is the reason for your nagging?" I ask him, placing my hands on his shoulders. Mick tilts his head back to look up to me.

"I ruined it." He whines, holding one of the eggs up. There is a very neat pattern on it, but it is crossed by a line where Mick probably touched the egg where it was still wet.

"It is not ruined." I reassure him, brushing my fingers gently trough his hair.

"It is." Mick pouts, looking absolutely adorable. Sighting almost inaudible I sit down beside him to take a look at his perfectly painted easter eggs.

"You are such a perfectionist." I giggle before placing a soft kiss on his still pouting lips. Mick seems to relax under my touch but detaches our lips faster than my liking.

"I need to finish these." He mumbles, pecking my lips one last time before he picks up a white egg to paint it.

"I never seen someone who is so into painting eggs for easter." My laugh gets stuck in my throat because Mick nudges me slightly in the side before flashing me a grin.

"It calms me down." Mick says with a shrug of his shoulders but at the same time a soft redness spreads over his cheeks.

"Do you want to paint one too?" He asks me while lifting one of the eggs a bit up. I think it is sweet that he offers me to paint one of the eggs, but I am not very talented when it comes to art.

"I just watch you for a bit." I mumble placing my head on my knee to admire him from the side. Mick shrugs his shoulders and then continues to paint the eggs.

His tongue is sticking a bit out of his mouth and on his forehead are some concentrate wrinkles. You would never think that a racing driver who normally likes action is into something calm like painting eggs for easter.

But what is similar to the racing driver Mick is his expectations for himself. Everything needs to be perfect for him no matter if it is something on a race weekend or the simple task of decorating for Easter.

I close my eyes for a moment because the warmth of the sun has made me a bit tired. But I haven't had them close for long. When a wet something touches my cheek, I shrug and open them again.

Mick sits there with a wide grin, one of the paintbrushes in the hand and slowly I get a thought of what just happened.

"You didn't?" I ask him in a kind of shock, but Mick just giggles like a little kid as an answer.

Now also laughing I grab one of the other brushes and dip it a bit into the paint. Mick knows exactly what I want to do and jumps up from his chair to run away. I chase him trough the kitchen, into the hallway and finally around the couch in the living room.

I did not catch him because his legs are way longer than mine and he is also the fitter one. Mick jogs into the garden still having a broad grin on the lips. I follow him and this time I want to catch him.

I chase him further into the garden until he stumbles over something and looses some of his pace. Now I am able to catch him and flung my arms around his body to hold him close. We are both out of breath but still giggle from time to time.

"Got you." I grin against his back still planning to give his face a little makeover.

When Mick relaxes in my arms, I lift my hand with the paintbrush and draw a line over his cheek. Mick whines playfully before sinking to the ground like he just been hit by something. I fall with him to the ground not minding the cold gras underneath us.

Mick entwines our fingers, before lifting our hands to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss onto my knuckles. We turn our heads to the side to look at the other and just dreamingly study the face from the opposite person.

When the bell rings we are ripped out of our little bubble and Mick jumps up to run inside.
"That is my mom." He says before disappearing into the house again.

I pick up the brush from the ground and follow Mick into the house the clean it. Corinna is standing in our kitchen, admiring Mick's work before taking a closer look to our faces.

"You both had obviously fun doing these." She laughs at the paint which is not on the eggs but on our faces. We both join her laughing because we really have to look funny for her and it was indeed a fun task to do.