MSC47 - mick schumacher

i.

The paddock had always been a familiar place to James, watching his brother move up the ranks in karting and since his debut to formula one in twenty sixteen, for Torro Rosso - the sister team to his current team Red Bull, he had been very comfortable in the paddocks that had been constructed among the tracks around the wide world of formula racing. Many thought James to be basking in his younger brother's fame as he was often found wondering the paddocks and tracks with nothing but an expensive camera around his neck and a face that screamed 'Don't Fucking Talk To Me'. What the general public did not know however, was that James was a well respected photographer among the motorsport community, traveling the world and taking pictures of the cars, tracks and drivers alike, sending them off to be used on Instagram pages, websites and various magazine front covers.

Moving his camera up to his face, James looked through the 'view finder' as it was called, taking a clean picture of a group of Ferrari mechanics as they walked down the main straight of the paddock to find their garage. As he was looking down as his camera screen he was completely oblivious to the white football flying towards him.

"Hey, look out!" A voice sounded from James' left, prompting him to look up to see the leather ball coming towards him, or more specifically his face. James jerked his body to turn to the right at seemingly the last second causing the ball to only smack into his tense shoulder, hunched up to cover the side of his own face. "Oh God," the voice sounded again, "I'm so sorry. Really, I am. It was a bad kick and um I should have stopped it really. And then it nearly hit you and your expensive looking camera. I'm actually really sorry again. I-" 

"It's fine, don't worry about it." James cut of the rambling man before him. James noted that the stranger was a good few inches shorter than himself with pale blond hair that was tussled and laced with sweat, from playing with the football that just hit him James assumed. The blond looked up at the dark haired man, as if startled by being interrupted. That's when James found himself gazing into a pair of beautiful blue eyes, a pair much like his own, a pair that he hadn't seen in years, not since their two families had stopped taking summer holidays together. 

Seeing those swirling blue eyes again after all the years he had gone without the boy in front of him, who had quite obviously grown into a man the way his arms stretched out the fabric of the too tight fireproofs he was wearing and the way his jaw was no longer rounded like the last time James had seen him but was sharp and angular, sporting some almost non-visible blond stubble that definitely hadn't been there when James had last seen the blond when he was barely passable as a teenager. The recognition hit James like a ton of bricks, "Mick?"

"J-James?" 

:)

how was that? 

  -love B