Chapter Text
His muscles ache. Sweat covers his whole body.
He can hear nothing but the blaring sounds of AC/DC in his ears.
His feet pound at speed on the treadmill. The mask measuring oxygen over his mouth, the various sensors and monitors on his body should have been shaken loose an hour ago, but if these guys want to see just how fit he is for the rest of the season, then he’ll fucking show them.
He sees nothing of the room he’s in, more a science lab than the gym at home he prefers.
His eyes are closed, as he runs he visualises Spa.
Exactly when to hit the apex in turn one to put him in the perfect line to go flat out up the hill to Eau Rouge… he’ll glance at the grandstand, they’ll cheer him… or geer him.
It’s all the same. They see him. The reigning world champion.
He allows his mind to wander, his memory of that night in Abu Dhabi; “…And now the British National anthem”
He closed his eyes, savoring every note.
He wasn’t just Luke McBride now… he was Luke McBride; Formula One world champion for McLaren.
…the music stopped and it snapped him out of his focus.
It’s only then that he realized he actually can’t breathe and his legs are fueled by battery acid.
The treadmill slows and he catches the handrails less he collapse in an embarrassing heap.
While the fitness nerds fussed around him he downs a bottle of water, taking another and emptying it over his head. He ignored the disapproval from the nerds, he’s paying them enough to afford a fucking mop.
“Luke, for the love of fuck, you cannot just ignore this, it’s not going to go away!”
He wishes Vicki would go the fuck away. He doesn’t really, but in that moment, when he’s slumped in a chair and trying to remember what it’s like not to run flat out for an hour, it would be nice if she did.
She’s his PA.
She’s been with him in some capacity since F3, the junior categories.
A beta that handles all the boring stuff that takes his attention away from racing.
She’s small and in the frumpiest dress imaginable. She reminds him of his grandmother. He reckoned all the inches of height were sacrificed to give her presence of authority.
When Vicki talks… you fucking listen.
Just as likely to offer the cookie jar then to smack your hand with a ruler if you touched it.
She glared at him, handing out the crumpled envelope.
He’s pushed it away so many times it looks ancient and weathered.
She tuts at him before turning to the nerds, “give us the room.”
They leave like it was an Alphas command.
He’s already prepared to turn off his senses and visualise Baku’s sharp breaking zones.
She thumps him on the head with a water bottle, “no!, listen”.
The bottle that assaulted him is offered and he takes it as she sits opposite on a stool.
“You complained endlessly about Ocon’s overtake in Spain being illegal, the FIA listened and he was given a grid penalty. Well, ignoring this is illegal in the way you get a fine that will take 50% of every pound you earn for the rest of your life.”
He shrugs, “they can have it.”
She snaps forward, snatching the bottle from his hand and uses it to smack him repeatedly as she talks, “the team will not tolerate it, Luke, an Alpha that thinks he’s too important to do his duty, your seat will be gone, racing will be gone!”
He catches the bottle, pulling it away as he stands and looks to the heavens to save him from that damn letter, “how could they possibly think this is an appropriate Allocation? How on earth am I to give an Omega a good life when I’m in a different fucking country 24 times a year?! Did you see the news?! Alonso’s Omega?! He’s a two time champion and he’ll be lucky to race a fucking horse after what happened!”
She sighed and looked down. That’s never good.
“I spoke to Zak.”
The CEO of McLaren F1 team… fuck.
He was appointed an Omega years ago. He’s met her many times, she’s brilliant and fun and Zak loves her maybe more than racing.
“He’ll drop you before Spa if you take the fine… that’s in 3 weeks, Luke…”
He wants to be angry but for Zak, when it comes to racing; the team comes first. When it comes to Alphas; Omegas come first.
Zac missed an entire season when his first pup was born.
He’s seven now and the PR team just Love getting Luke and Zak to a go-kart track to do socials content with the little Alpha racing them.
It’s the only time he doesn’t mind losing.
Luke sighs heavily and holds out his hand. Vicki sighs in relief and hands it over.
FINAL NOTICE written in angry red letters across the front.
It was going to be a long summer break.