don't like a gold rush
sometimes you watch a video of James Vowles calling Alex special and your mind goes blank and three weeks later you have 6k
everlasting thanks to @latecomersprivilege for cheerleading, proofreading, and encouraging my crimes
don't like a gold rush
Rated Explicit
Fandom F1 RPF
Pairing Alexander Albon/George Russell
5,951 words
In which Alex having a good boss for once drives George absolutely mad.
First part below:
James Vowles is the best thing that could have happened for Williams. Well, the best in 2023, second overall - second to signing Alex. George truly believes that, has said it often, loudly, to anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby with a microphone. Even as the spectre of getting caught in the Albon DRS train gets ever closer, even as the W14 lets him down at every turn, he’s still got a massive soft spot for his old team. He wants the best for them. He wants the best for Alex.
And James as a boss is everything Horner wasn’t, as far as George can tell. Even-tempered. Even-handed. Kind. George has been in the Mercedes orbit long enough to see that. James wasn’t the type to talk down to a fourteen-year-old touring a garage with eyes like saucers. Instead he offered a steadiness even Toto couldn’t match. His good opinion had been worth having, and George had fought to get it.
He likes James, for Christsakes.
So, it’s something of a surprise to find himself grinding his teeth as Alex gets second-beer tipsy and starts waxing poetic about what a difference he’s made to the team.
They’ve got a small table at the back of a footie pub in London, where not a single regular is under 60 and clearly no one gives two shits about Formula One. It’s not built for tall men; their knees jam up against each other. George is slightly too warm in his jumper and coat, prickles of heat across the back of his shoulders. And his molars ache as Alex keeps going on about bloody James Vowles.
“Some of it’s the car, obviously, and the calendar,” Alex is saying, too media-trained to not add context and caveats in any declaration, “but James is just- like, no offence to Jost, but- he gets it. It’s like we’re all going in the same direction. Points aren’t a fucking miracle anymore, it’s expected, but not in a bad way, you know?”
“Don’t rule out the driver,” George adds, because he’s pathetic, really, weak for the indulgent eyeroll and grin Alex throws him to hide the genuine pleased flush of a compliment. And, because, well. It can’t all be James.
He’s not blind to the fact Alex has dragged Williams higher than he ever managed. And yes, it’s a different car, a different set up, but Alex is fucking quick, and it’s about time someone else noticed.
“No, but really, it’s- Look, I’m not saying it’s perfect, I’m sure Logan has something to say about his contract renewal, but I’ve never had a boss who takes care of the team like he does. It’s nice,” Alex finishes, with that half-shrug he adopts to couch his opinions in nonchalance. George knows him too well to fall for it.
Something hot and slick and sour coats the inside of his chest cavity, roiling up from his belly. He necks the rest of his pint before it can escape over his tongue. “He takes care of you?” he manages, and it almost sounds normal, squeezed out of his throat like that, everything else trapped behind his teeth.
A glint comes into Alex’s eye. “I’m sure it’s not the full Toto Wolff experience-”
“Piss off.”
“-holidaying together, sharing a crossword, father-son fishing trips-”
“Piss off!”
“But, yeah. Logan more, obviously, he needs it more. But- you know after Silverstone, after you pointed out the shoulder thing, he had them look at the seat again? That kind of thing.”
Of course George remembers Silverstone. He’d joked about it, under the watchful eyes of the press and a Williams PR woman who knew him far too well, because Alex hated when George made a sincere fuss, but he could just about get away with taking the piss.
It’s good, he reminds himself, that James doesn’t want the car to shake his drivers to pieces. But that doesn’t stop the sudden blinding vision of James pressing a bandage against Alex’s skin.
George had done it, back in the summer, when Alex had tripped on their run and the jerk of the fall had reopened the scar from the seat. George had only had these stupid Superdrug plasters, all too small, so he’d had to line three up, carefully overlap them and smooth them down so they wouldn’t ruck up into a mess when Alex rolled his shoulders. Alex had said he was making too much of a fuss then as well, but he’d shivered as George ran a thumb around the edge of each plaster to check the seal.
It hadn’t been normal for George, obviously, having his best mate half-naked in his bathroom, the mirror too big for comfort, all of his face there to be seen as he touched Alex’s skin. But. But the thought of James doing the same makes George’s fingers tighten on his glass. And he knows, logically, that it didn’t happen; that Williams has a medic, that Alex has a trainer, that there’s half a dozen people on the team who take care of Alex. Who have that in their job descriptions.
He just- Christ. He wants it to be him.
“I’m glad, mate,” he lies. Swallows. Makes himself hold Alex’s gaze when he responds with his ducked-head smile. But he nudges the conversation on so he doesn’t have to keep lying, swaps the wildest rumours he can with Alex’s - Charles to Red Bull, Lewis to Ferrari, Fernando collecting a seat on every team like he’s filling out a Pokedex. The caustic burn lingers in the back of his throat, despite four pints and a packet of crisps.
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okay I am obsessed with both '09 and '22 soapghost, but what has recently consumed my brain is the headcanon that they're one and the same.
After they get together, Soap is promoted to Captain and their dynamic immediately shifts. He thinks Ghost has an issue with him being his superior. He's been quiet, more so than usual, almost appearing small at times. He loves being captain but goes so far as to consider stepping down for the sake of his love... when he finds out it's quite the opposite.
Ghost fucking loves Johnny being his superior. He loves being bossed around and told what to do. Price trusted him to be left to his own devices when on missions, but Mactavish will always have an eye on him, always making sure he wasn't being reckless. Always has him following the rules. Calling him a good boy when he listens. Simon is addicted.
He feels some sort of shame, a weakness, knowing that he enjoys not taking charge. But as soon as Mactavish catches on, he's hugging ghost, kissing all over his balaclava and telling him how happy it makes him. How special he feels knowing Simon could let his guard down, give away his control to Johnny.
In the end it makes their relationship stronger. After a long while of Simon giving his everything to Johnny, he finally lets himself be selfish, take some of his wants in return. And Johnny is more than happy to give it to him.
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