The Team // A Formula One AU

Charles

"It's too hot!" Someone yells into the languid silence and I jolt from my sweaty slumber. We're six hours into the ten hour journey to Dallas and nobody's spoken for ages. It's just too tiring, and this is the second day of this torture.

"It's fine..." Daniel whispers optimistically beside me. I'm literally panting.

"You're from Australia," I reply hoarsely. "It's always hot there."

"... No, not this hot."

"Water!" Alex gasps suddenly from the row behind. He's pointing out of the window to a lake not far away. I moan and bang on the glass.

"Please..." Lewis whimpers.

"Tell you what guys," Tom says from the front, his face glistening. "Let's make a stop here."

We're too tired to rejoice.

I collapse into the water without even thinking about it. Max kisses the gravelly sand before following me in and the sensible ones go and sit on the pier, only dipping their toes into the surprisingly clear water. Alex is one of those sensible ones.

"Why don't you come in?" I ask and splash his shins from down below.

"I'm not really a swimmer," he replies, wiping the water away lazily with his feet.

"Can you swim?"

"Obviously! I just don't want to today."

"Suit yourself," I shrug and pull off my soaked t-shirt. It's severely weighing me down. I throw it up at the pier and Alex catches it and hangs it over the edge to dry.

"Watch! Watch me," Daniel yells before running the length of the pier and diving head first into the lake, as professionally as if he does it every day.

"Be careful lad!" Weird Old Phil shouts. "You don't know how deep the water is, or what's under the surface. You could've been seriously injured!"

I wonder if he realises Dan can't hear him from beneath the surface. He splashes his sweaty face in the shallows and I hastily get away from the poison. Alex laughs at my facial expression.

"What're you laughing at boy?"

"Nothing..." Alex replies airily. He giggles to himself once Weird Old Phil has turned away.

"I can catch fish with my bare hands."

"How does an Mexican guy learn to do that?"

"How doesn't someone from Germany know the technique?"

"Technique? More like blind luck."

"I'll show you. I swear, my granddad taught me how."

The atmosphere is peaceful apart from Checo's occasional manic splashes. I could go to sleep, seeing as it was already too hot on the bus at seven o'clock when we left the hostel. I float on my back and close my eyes, listening to the low chatter in the air.

"ARGHH!!" I yell and splutter as I pull something off my face, standing up again on the silty bottom. I open my eyes to see it's my shirt. "Alex!"

"It wasn't me, it was Valtteri," he laughs and Valtteri doesn't even try to hide his grin.

"Good throw," I saw sarcastically and send it back up to dry. 

"Alright guys, we've all cooled down now. Let's get going and we could be there in five hours," Tom says reluctantly and we all grumble. "And fill your water bottles," he remembers. I fill all four of mine and shiver as I exit the lake.

"Are you cold?" Alex asks.

"A bit. Why, you need cooling down?"

"Uh..." I hug him tightly, slapping my still soaked shirt against his back and he screeches, a sound I haven't ever heard him make. I laugh and run away onto the bus. I know he's still going to be sitting next to me for the foreseeable future, but at least I'll get the window seat.