Formula one sickfics/oneshots

Call me Mika

People: Mick Schumacher, Michael Schumacher, Mika Hakkinen

Ages: Mick Schumacher (5), Michael Schumacher (37), Mika Hakkinen (36)

Requested by: @DaisyDavis231 

- AN -

I had a lot of inspiration all of a sudden, decided to start writing this immediately, and I'm already finished. I know Mika was already retired in 2004, but let's pretend he wasn't for now, as I wanted Mick to be a little older for the sake of the storyline. The title is crap though, but I couldn't think of anything

- POV Mika -

I stormed down the paddock, helmet in hand and a tight grip on it that turned my knuckles white. I entered the garage and slumped down in a chair, one of the mechanics coming over to apologize to me. "I don't want to talk right now", I grumbled. He took a big step back and seemed to spread the message to leave me alone, as none of the others bothered me anymore. I eventually went to the back and got changed, discarding my race suit way sooner into the day, than I had originally expected. I heard engines roar again as the rest of the drivers resumed the race that had been red-flagged due to a car standing still on the track.

My car

The engine had just given up on me after no more than 23 laps. No wonder I was pissed. Not necessarily at anyone in particular, because it wasn't like the mechanics were at fault, but that didn't mean it wasn't frustrating. I drank the rest of my water in one big gulp and crumpled up the empty plastic bottle, which I discarded of into the trashcan. Then, I walked out of the garage, into the paddock. I needed to be away from the people and get some fresh air, before I would throw or break something.

I turned a few corners and walked through some alleyways, trying to avoid all people, which is why I was disappointed to see someone suddenly walking in front of me, in a spot I thought no one else knew of. Hell, to make it even worse, this was a child. He looked to be around 4 or 5 years old, had blonde hair and wore a Ferrari jacket. I couldn't believe someone had let the kid walk around here, unattended, somewhere behind the Ferrari garage. It wasn't until the boy turned around and looked at me, that I recognized the familiar face.

My anger dissipated within seconds, and I walked over to him. "Hey Mick, what are you doing here?", I asked the usually outspoken boy in front of me. "Need air. I feel sick", he explained. "Sick like you're going to throw up?", I asked for confirmation. "Yeah, just did in the garage". I frowned at the young boy and crouched down to be at eye level with him. "Do you think you'll be sick again soon?". He shook his head, and I felt a bit of relief wash over me. As much as I cared about Mick, cleaning up his puke didn't really appeal to me. "Just feel bad", he sighed.

"You do look somewhat pale there, and your cheeks are very red. Can I feel your forehead?". Mick nodded politely and I pressed the back of my hand against his forehead, cheeks and neck, finding his skin to be very warm. "You really aren't well, kid. Is your mom with you? Or your sister?". "No, only dad, but he's racing". I could see the sorrow and despair in the kid's eyes, and I felt bad for the poor boy in front of me.

"Should I stay with you while you wait for your dad?", I suggested, and Mick smiled warily at me. "Yes please. Thank you, sir", Mick said politely. I smiled; Michael had truly taught his kids well. "No problem, buddy. Oh, and call me Mika". I took Mick by the hand and started making a plan on how to take care of him, deciding to take him to the McLaren motorhome. I let some of the Ferrari staff know and told them to inform Michael of it after the race finished.

I gestured for Mick to follow me and took him to the McLaren motorhome. "Can I be here?", Mick asked. I laughed and just nodded at the small boy. "Of course you can, they'll understand once I explain it", I assured him, but he still looked hesitant. He eventually took off his Ferrari jacket and carried it under his arm, before finally entering the building with me. I led him all the way to the in the back.

"Would you like to lay down for a bit?", I asked, to which he nodded and laid down on the couch. "Perfect, do you need anything? Any medicine, a blanket?". "A blanket please". I immediately got a big, fluffy blanket for Mick and covered him with it. He curled up into a ball, holding his stomach, but he seemed to be getting a little more comfortable. I myself sat down on one of the armchairs in the room and I picked up one of the newspapers that were laying around on the table, until I was interrupted by a small tug on my sleeve.

"Yes?", I asked, looking up from the newspaper and seeing Mick looking up at me with soft, tired eyes. "How long is the race?", he asked, his voice starting to waver a little. "About 5 more laps, I suppose. Why?". "I want my dad", he whispered. "Your dad will be here soon, buddy. Just try to lay back and relax, he'll be here in no time". I placed a grounding hand on his left shoulder as I used my other hand to flip the pages of the newspaper occasionally, glancing over at Mick constantly, just to make sure his condition wasn't worsening.

I also kept an eye on the race through the tv in the room, nudging Mick when his father crossed the finish-line first. "Congratulations buddy. Another win for your father, huh?". Mick smiled when he saw Michael step onto the top step of the podium, cheering him on silently when he got handed the big, golden trophy. I stayed silent during the German national anthem, knowing this should be Mick's moment to admire his father's result. It was also a moment for him to kind of forget about how awful he was feeling. "I hope he gets here soon", Mick broke the silence, and I smiled warmly at the young boy. "Of course he will. I bet he'll be here anytime now".

And sure enough, about 15 minutes later, I heard footsteps fast approaching. A frowning Michael stepped into the room, but his face cleared a little when he spotted Mick and noticed that he looked relatively okay for now. "Hey Schatz", Michael smiled, sitting at the end of the couch Mick was laying on. They then had a small exchange in German, saying a lot of things that went way over my head. I had no idea what they were talking about, but at one point, Michael felt Mick's forehead and placed a hand on his stomach, under the blankets and Mick's sweater. Mick seemed to sigh in relief at that and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

No longer than half an hour later, Mick was fast asleep in Michael's arms, so Michael picked him up. He carefully carried the boy to the exit of the paddock and to his car, where he buckled the sleeping child into his booster seat. I expected Michael to just step into the driver's side and drive off, but he turned around and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you, man. I really appreciate this", he said, his voice full of sincerity.

I just smiled and shook my head. "There's no need for that. I just helped him a little bit, but it was no trouble". After that, Michael did drive off, Mick now with a lot more color in his face than when I first saw him, but still looking slightly unwell, as he slept soundly in his car seat. I watched the car drive away from the carpark, getting into my own vehicle with a soft smile on my face.

How this kid managed to brighten my mood so much, I had no idea, but one thing was for sure: Michael was lucky to have him, and he was lucky to have Michael.