F1 Driver X Driver

Canceled Christmas - Esteban x Lance

"Alright mama, I- I love you too. Okay, bye. Bye." Esteban sighed sadly, pulling his phone from his ear. He stared at the screen which flashed back to the flight centre's page, his stomach dropping.

The large words were still written across the screen, the bright red words rejecting all his hopes of getting home for the holidays. Written across the screen big bold letters, the letters were laughing at him through the screen.

CANCELED.

With a sad sigh, Esteban readjusted himself in his seat, folding his long legs, one over the other in their usual precarious manner.

"Was that your mother?" A familiar Canadian accent broke the silence. Esteban looked up through his lashes.

A sad smile tugged across his face as warmth bloomed in his chest.
Lance lent forward across little the rickety table as he tried to peer at the screen of Esteban's phone. His dark eyes shifted from the screen to Esteban, a curious look crossing his features.

"Yeah, it was. Had to break it to her that I can't get back home." Esteban said sadly, glancing back down at his phone to glare at the big red letters.

"Why's that?" Lance asked, dropping into the chair next to Esteban.

Esteban shifted to grab his phone spinning it towards the Canadian who lent forward, squinting his eyes as he studied the text.

Lance breathed a little 'ah' of understanding, leaning back in his chair. Turning towards the Canadian, Esteban watched as his face melted in a look of understanding, then slowly, disappointment.

"Aw man, really? That sucks I'm sorry."

Esteban hummed, nodding sadly as he dropped his hand into his lap. With a defeated groan he slumped forward, allowing his head to drop onto the table with a small thud. Lance chuckled sadly for his best friend. He knew how badly Esteban wanted to go home. How much he missed his family.

Lance threaded his long fingers through Esteban's hair, resting his own chin in the palm of his other hand. Looking across the little patio set up where the two were seated, Lance watched as people raced around the main stretch of the bustling paddock. Each one of them busy -caught up in whatever thing seem the most important at that time - men dressed in crisp suits, women in beautiful long dresses, reporters clasping their microphones with their camera man trailing behind them. Little children sporting team caps like Ferrari or Mercedes clutched to their parents hands or raced off ahead of them, team members of media managers, each and everyone one of them lot in their own little bubble of time and space. Lance found his eyes beginning to drift as Alex Albon and George Russel walk past, a swarm of cameras surrounding them, the Netflix crew no doubt.

As expected, Lance's attention was dragged away from the bustling world around him, and his eyes ultimately fell on Esteban - or to be exact, the back of his head.

"I have no idea where I'm gonna go now." Came a muffled whine from Esteban, his face still smushed against the table top. Poor Esteban Lance thought, it broke his heart to think of his friend's pain.

And that's when Lance had a brilliant idea.

...

"Lance are you sure this is a good idea, that last thing anyone needs right now is you falling and breaking your neck." Esteban pleaded, worry evident on his features and in his voice as he craned his head upwards to look at the Canadian.

"It's all good Estie, I know what I'm doing." Lance said dismissively, ignoring Esteban's protests for his safety.

"He has absolutely no clue what he's doing." Chloe hummed beside Esteban, a tall glass of white wine perched in her delicate, manicured hand. Esteban looked from where Lance was balancing on his tip toes on top of the fireplace mantle to look down at his sister. Chloe watched her brother looking very unimpressed if somewhat amused.