Chapter Text
"Well, I'm okay,"
You dropped your head into your hands with a devastated groan, allowing yourself to slump back into your seat. Oh Danny no, not again, your heart broke for him and the dejection in his voice you just weren't used to. You couldn't believe it was happening again and that you were completely powerless to do anything about it.
Daniel had been your best friend for years, and whilst you adored and supported him you didn't know how many more times you could watch him slip down to the bottom of the F1 pack, getting shuttled between teams like he meant nothing. Not that you had anything against Lando and McLaren, but you couldn't believe once more that he was no more to them than a second driver, even the car came before him.
And now this, a crash in Monaco. His second home, his favourite track, the place he'd promised he'd get his redemption. Sitting virtually paralysed in your spot in hospitality watching him climb out of the orange car he'd been promised was his new family certainly didn't look like redemption to you.
He wasn't interested in anything that night. Usually, you'd hang out at his apartment all weekend for Monaco, but he told you he needed to stay in the garage to go over the incident. You'd seen this Danny before too, that no matter how shit of a situation he found himself in he was always blaming himself. He would stay up late, spend hours and hours pouring his heart and soul into working through problems, trying to find solutions he didn't need to. You were furious for him.
F. E. A
It was written in small black letters, but it was in the direct line of his helmet cam. Fuck 'em all. It was devastating, watching him become less and less of a priority of Lando and winning car, even when the younger driver was sick and not giving his best, but your chest warmed a little at Daniel's message. Maybe there was still that fight you knew and loved in him. Maybe your honey badger was in there after all.
But, like many things with Daniel, it wasn't meant to be. A low qualifying spot and a messy race with torrential rain and so many flags you lost the will to live saw him finish outside of the points once more. You were glad that he got home in one piece, at least, but you knew he wasn't. The second the last car pulled into a stop you all but ran to the McLaren garage.
He was there, sweaty and messy and as beautiful as post-race Daniel always was, but he was missing that huge smile and the light in his eyes. You didn't look once at the podium ceremony, your entire attention trained on Daniel who was staring at Sergio Perez with such deep heartbreak you didn't know what to do. He had to leave for press, reluctantly, so you pulled him into a quick hug and promised him you'd be over that evening.
And you did, after all the after-party arrangements had been made and Daniel's PR team had made their excuses you found yourself at the com of his flat, with a bag of far too much Chinese food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He buzzed you in and you found him on the couch, staring fixedly at the TV, where the race highlights were playing.
"Don't watch them," you murmured, and he finally raised his head to look at you. He looked like a shell of your Danny. In sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair a fluffy, curly mess after his recent shower, but his eyes were red and you were worried he'd been crying. He didn't say anything, simply returning his attention to the TV. You decided to give him a minute, and busied yourself in his kitchen plating up the food and pouring two large glasses of wine.
He was still staring at the screen when you came back, so you picked up the remote and turned it off. He sent you the smallest smile you'd ever seen and a half-hearted thanks. You ate in silence, and he didn't touch the wine.
"I'm sorry about today,"
He dropped his head, refusing to even look at you. You were contemplating saying something else, but you didn't know if you'd make the situation worse when he moved toward you. His head found the space in your neck and he crawled into your chest like an overgrown child. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around him, tight because any contact with him was everything to you.
"Hey-"
"Please," his voice was thick, his accent almost unrecognisable with it "I just need a minute," you nodded, your chin just resting on the top of his head as you held him, rubbing gentle circles across his back. You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, or when exactly he decided to pull away and keep eating as if nothing happened, or when you found yourself watching him watch one of his terrible comedy movies. It was only when he didn't laugh at a single one of the cringey one-liners that you knew something was deeply wrong.
"Okay, Danny, what's going on? Because I've seen you laugh at this stupid fucking film from a hospital bed,"
The way he looked at you then was like nothing you'd ever experienced before. It was like he was staring straight into your soul, those big brown eyes of his so full of churning emotions that it made your chest constrict in rhythm. He sucked in a breath that was alarmingly shakey for someone so extraverted.
"I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified,"
You couldn't help the surprised bubble of laughter that escaped you.
"Sorry, what?"
"I- you're my best friend and I love you. I'm so scared of losing this, us, but I can't sit here anymore and pretend I don't want more," his voice was too shakey to be your Danny, but the words were his. It was only then you realised his hands were wrapped around your wrists.
"You could never lose me," you murmured, speaking slowly to gauge his reaction as the confession you'd been pushing down for years came surging through "Not when I've been yours all this time,"
You didn't need to say those three words back, because he pulled you into a kiss so desperate it said them for you.