Not A Verstappen || CL16 & LN4

Untitled Part 26

"Please respect our wishes for privacy over the winter break," he handed the microphone back, ending the line of questioning for him and Checo graciously stepped in to take the attention. Charles felt like a caged animal as he stalked off from the balcony and found an assistant with an iPad. "Do you have the video?"

She didn't need to ask what video he meant as she found the clip on every news agency's website. Charles felt sick seeing Lando on the gurney, an IV in his hand and his eyes vacant. Pain pinched Lando's forehead and his head lolled to the side drunkenly as he spoke to you, the words imperceptible before he spotted the camera.

"I'm going to be a father!" Lando screamed joyfully before sinking back into the pillow. Your shock was clear and he didn't need to hear your voice to know what you were saying when you shook your head.

Charles sighed and handed the iPad back, raking a hand down his face. He was angry but it didn't feel fair to be angry at Lando. Charles had crashed enough times to know how strong the painkillers were. Now more than ever he was happy there was only one race left, one more public outing before he could sequester you away for the winter. He needed this winter to hurry up so he could breathe easier in the remote regions of northern France.

"You good?" Max asked as he clapped him on the shoulder after the water fountain finished its special something or rather. He couldn't say he paid any attention to it, it was far from his mind when he stood before it.

"Fine," Charles muttered quietly. "Can we go now?"

Back in the garage you watched the post race interviews and rubbed Lando's shoulders. Jon had almost called for an ambulance when clarity returned to your boyfriend and he realised what he had done. Thankfully someone from the team had cleaned up the mess he made when he vomited from all the worry. Jon thought he had a concussion, but it was just guilt.

"You're going to make yourself sick again, babe. He's not going to kill you."

Lando looked up from the seat he slouched in, his bottom lip pressed out with the occasional quiver. "What if he hates me? Oh fuck, he's going to break up with me, I know it."

"No one is breaking up, ever," you growled as you cradled his face and forced him to look at you. "I'm not letting this little one grow up without her fathers."

"You're angry too."

"Yes, I'm angry, Lando, but I'm not going to break up with you because of it, neither will Charles. You were as high as a kite and the cameras shouldn't have been anywhere near the medical centre."

A commotion in the crowds drew your attention away and you nodded your head to the stage that had been erected on the grid while the post race interviews took place. "They're back," you said as you stood up. "Come on."

"My ribs hurt," Lando complained as he refused to move from his seat, holding his hand up to show his hospital wristbands as proof.

"Lando..." you could see he was being stubborn so you huffed and went with guilt tripping him instead. "Well I'm going to watch the podium...in that big crowd...where everyone is pushing and elbowing...while I'm carrying your child..."

"Fuck, fine," he growled as he stood up, curling an arm around you protectively like you knew he would. "But we are staying with the mechanics."

–

"This seems like overkill," you muttered as extra security guards arrived to walk you and Lando four garages down to Ferrari.

"I'm not taking any chances," Lando said with another guilt ridden glance. "It's my fault anyway."

You took his hand and stepped into the protective forcefield that was over half a dozen black-suited guards. It wasn't the first time having a security team, it was quite common with Red Bull and the hate they received, but it was different this time. The protection wasn't for you and from the amount of people waiting outside the McLaren garage you were grateful for the extra arms. Like a well oiled machine the men fell into formation, creating an arrowhead that speared through the crowd, carving a path for you and Lando to follow.

"Breathe before you pass out," you warned Lando when you reached the archway that opened into Charles' garage. He started to freeze but you tugged his hand and pulled him inside.

"I'm trying, but I think I'm going to be sick again."

He did look a little pale as you spotted Xavi, who tapped Charles' shoulder. Charles turned and you watched as the worry and fear faded from his green eyes, before worry returned.

"Mon cher," he murmured as he stepped closer. Lando clutched his stomach at the sound and folded in half, hurling the blueberry pancakes he had nibbled on all over the floor and Charles' shoes. "Mon Dieu!"

The acrid smell of bile made your stomach turn but you were grateful you never had the morning sickness most women complained about. Still looking pale, Charles caught Lando as he swayed and you grabbed the closest chair to put him in.

"He's been making himself sick with worry," you explained in a rush. "Just tell him you're not going to dump him so he can stop imagining it."

"What?" Charles' eyes widened as he looked at Lando, his blue eyes watery and downcast at the mess he had made, again. "I'm not going to dump you, mon cher. How could you ever think that?"

"Because he is more dramatic than the two of us combined," you offered with a smile that softened the words. "But we love him for it."

Charles brushed away the tears on Lando's cheeks and went to kiss him before thinking better of it. "We are a family, we will adapt - you already got more security I see."

"You're not angry?"

"Oh I am," he admitted, Lando's eyes snapping up at the lilt in his tone. Dipping his head to Lando's ear, you chuckled as you saw a smirk grow as they whispered a promise. "And your ass is going to feel it for days."

Round Twenty Three - Abu Dhabi

The apartment in Monaco was quiet without Lando and Charles. From the penthouse the noise of the street barely carried to its height and the only sound came from the TV. Martin Brundle was making his way down the grid, trying to interview any personality he could name over the raucousness of the crowds and engines.

You longed to be with them, standing above the pitlane watching the chaos unfold. Unfortunately, because of Lando's untimely announcement, the UAE had cancelled your visa. They could turn a blind eye to your unconventional relationship when it was behind closed doors but with the public knowledge of a baby, and both men taking fathership status, they could no longer accept it. The options were to stay at home or go and risk deportation, or even being arrested for adultery.

Neither seemed like fun.

You placed a hand on the small bump that continued to swell more each night. Lando said she was the size of a bell pepper this week. That seemed to create more questions for you than a fruit should, especially since the bell peppers you had seen were the same size as an avocado but the bump was certainly bigger.

"Just you and me, jellybean," you murmured as the grid began to empty so the formation lap could begin. "Guess I should get used to this."

Doctor Turner had advised against flying anywhere once you reached 8 months, but that would be right after Australia. You would definitely miss the Grand Prixs in Japan and China before she was born and then Miami and Imola after. All going to plan, your jellybean would make her first public appearance at Charles homerace.

As you had found out in Vegas, the best laid plans meant nothing in reality and only time would reveal what would eventuate. For now, you were going to focus on watching the last race of the season and get ready to enjoy a peaceful winter with your family.

You cosied into the couch, bundled in the pillows as if they were the two bodies you had missed for days, and turned the volume up as the formation lap ended.

Lights out and away we go.