Chapter Text
As night fell over Woking, the shimmering daylight that would flood in through the windows had been slowly replaced by the slight buzz of the overhead fluorescent lamps. Most workers had called it a day already, happy to warm up at home after a long, drizzly shift at the McLaren Technology Centre.
It was late February, a time in Formula 1 which was often associated with pre-season havoc; every team rushing to tie up their loose ends before everyone else could see what they would be bringing to the table. Nearly all deadlines were closing in, and there didn’t seem to be a single moment of stillness at the factory all throughout the month.
That Friday, however, the cars had been neatly disassembled and packed in their travel containers, perfectly untouchable. Their garage equipment, motorhome and fanzone – every structure imaginable had already departed, either by plane or ship, and a good chunk of it had already arrived in Bahrain. When it came to engineering, every part that would be used in testing was finalised – the fuel was formulated, the tyres out of their reach as Pirelli handled everything. Their strategies had been extensively discussed, as had the setups that would be tested. Still, few aspects of racing were quite as dynamic as strategy and performance, as every engineer knew that weeks of planning could go down the drain as quickly as the first lap of testing was completed, and it was as simple as the car deciding to not respond as they’d anticipated. For now, though, there was little that could be done before pre-season testing actually began but to sit, wait and obsess over what they simply couldn’t fiddle with anymore.
The exception for that, it seemed, was Nora.
After the fateful meeting that’d gotten her a shiny new position as a performance engineer, she was whisked to the HR department to have her contract finalised that very same day. When she was told she was expected to start her new position on the following day, with barely any time to clear her T&D desk or at least leave her mailbox somewhat clean, she realised the team’s situation was less than ideal.
The other trackside engineers had been as welcoming as they could amidst pre-season stress, to Nora’s relief; they were clearly excited to have someone else to bounce ideas off of, but probably most importantly another pair of hands to share the workload. Even though it seemed like everyone was in a never-ending rush, her new team made sure to spare some time for her whenever she had questions or needed some context. They had also started saving her a seat at the lunch hall, and added her to both official and non-official team group chats. She was especially glad to get some time with Peter, who up to that point had been the only performance engineer in the group. He was in his mid-forties, with grey hair only starting to speckle from his temples, and a calm demeanour that generally lacked in the engineering department. He had been Daniel’s performance engineer, and with Lando’s performance engineer, José, departing for Mercedes he had reluctantly ended up in charge of both drivers.
With Nora’s arrival, he was much happier to be able to focus on Oscar meanwhile passing on his knowledge to her. He’d been doing the job for a couple of years now, and Nora wanted to absorb as much secondhand experience as she could. It somewhat surprised her to find that no one seemed to bat an eye to her lack of experience, meaning they either trusted her more than they probably should or, perhaps more tragically, everyone else had too much on their hands to focus on anyone else. But then again, even Nora had trouble finding the time to be anxious about her new responsibilities – it was just her luck, or maybe not, that the new setups and the upgrading project she’d proposed herself were in full swing, meaning she and Paul were absolutely working overtime.
The sheer volume of work was enough to make the days fly by, and before she knew it it was the last Friday before pre-season testing in Bahrain. Nora found herself once more in the simulator room, which had become her best friend and worst enemy over the last few weeks, with some last-minute scenarios to test on new developments. It was nearly 10 pm, which meant that 2 hours had passed since Paul went home and it probably had been 4 hours since Nora’s last break. She didn’t want to think much about her current state, as she could physically feel how swollen her under eyes were. Two hours prior she’d stupidly rubbed her eyes, so it was likely that her mascara wasn’t exactly in good shape either
Waiting for the data to load up she picked up her phone, noticing a text from her mum. Nothing major, she seemed to be simply checking up on her, even if Nora couldn’t brush off the thought of it being yet another Friday night that she had nothing to show for.
She was getting better at it – seeing what everyone else was doing and not letting it affect her as much. Eventually all the pictures blended together, and she didn’t feel like going out by herself anymore. She knew most of what she felt was about missing home, but she’d chosen that for her. She chose to move out, just as she’d chosen to work during most Friday nights of the year. She turned her phone, placing it screen-side down on the desk.
Attempting to refocus, she activated a new data set, quickly plotting the numbers into graphs to make her life easier. As she dragged in yet another variable, the skinny red lines now overlapped by dotted purple ones, a frown quickly formed on her face. There they were, perfectly lining up except for at a few apexes, conveniently forming a pattern. Adding the track locations to the plot, she confirmed that it was most likely a specific place in which the car wasn't performing as well.
Ok, so sector two... not as much downforce as we should be getting, and it's... around Fagnes and Campus... wow, and those are supposed to be nice, high speed corners…
Taking a swig from her water bottle, she was faced with the harsh reality of finding it empty. Because of course it was. Sighing, she closed her eyes and leaned back on her chair, rolling her shoulders to try and find some relief to their stiffness. Blinking her eyes open, the monitor lights felt like a slap in the face. It didn’t seem like refocusing was going to happen quite that soon.
Ok, one quick little break, she reasoned. One last break, and when I’m done with this set I’m going home.
Standing up, she cringed when she stretched her arms and felt her joints crack, as if she was many years older. Grabbing her water bottle, she unscrewed the top as she walked out of the simulator room, bee-lining to the tiny office kitchen at the end of the hallway in order to refill it. Nora couldn’t help but feel like the MCL was a bit eerie at that time, with most lights turned off and the usual organised-chaos absent. The big windows, which in the daytime would reflect the sunlight bouncing off of the sleek artificial lake, were completely black, making the atmosphere even stranger. She didn’t hold much onto that thought though, her head far too tired to notice and ponder on the small details and quirks of the factory.
Far too tired indeed, as she failed to notice that the office kitchen light was on, walking straight in and jumping back, loudly dropping her water bottle when she noticed someone sitting on the countertop, hunched over a too-green banana.
“Holy shit,” she clutched a hand to her chest, her other hand gripping the door frame in an attempt to stabilise her. “You scared me.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
Lando jumped from the counter, dropping his banana and awkwardly standing in front of her for a moment. His wide eyes scanned her face, looking rather confused and tired himself. Nora stared back, mouth parted open as she figured she should say something, but had no idea what.
Before she could say anything, the boy slowly kneeled, hands feeling the floor tiles as he retrieved the bottle and lid. He clutched the items to his chest as he stood back up.
“Thank you,” she breathed heavily.
“Were you going to fill this?”
She nodded. The boy then, to her surprise, ignored her extended hand and turned to the water cooler, placing the bottle under the dispenser and pushing the lever. She stared at the back of his head, his hair flat in odd places, probably due to wearing his sweater hood all day long. The sweater looked almost too big on him, or maybe it was just the fact that he was hunching over the cooler tap. She then took the wild guess that maybe he hadn’t been expecting to run into anyone else either.
The minute it took for the bottle to fill up seemed to stretch impossibly under an awkward silence, only broken when Lando screwed the lid back on, turning towards her once more and finally handing the bottle back.
“There you go,” he mumbled.
“Thanks, Lando.”
They looked at each other for a moment, neither sure of what to say next. She hadn’t seen him since the meeting room, back when she’d sold her soul to the devil in exchange for professional praise and validation. Not that she’d thought much about that, but she probably didn’t expect for him to look as exhausted as he did – or as exhausted as she felt.
She clutched the water bottle in one arm, her free hand pointing outwards. “I should get–”
“Did you notice that every time I see you, you’re dropping your stuff?”
She blinked, deciding she was way too tired to try and question where that conversation was going. “Last time I saw you, you were the one who dropped a pen,” she shrugged.
His eyes widened in surprise, mouth parting open in what could only be some sort of appreciation for her responding .
“A pen ! You dropped a bag and the loudest bottle ever, your drops are… more dramatic ,” he decided.
“Dramatic?”
“You know, with more flare ,” he shrugged.
She narrowed her eyes. “This is a weird conversation.”
“It is,” he nodded. “I think that’s on me, I don’t know how I’m awake.”
“Yeah, I’m not awake enough for this conversation.”
He looked at her, his eyes firm on her face as if his gaze was trying to dig for something under the surface of her expression. He tucked his hands in his pockets, cockling his head to the side. “Anyway, what are you still doing here?”
She raised an eyebrow, lips twisting into a small smile. “Getting you a decent car.”
“Oh, you’re still not done?”
She shook her head, Lando raising his eyebrows.
“You know it’s past ten, right?”
She crossed her arms. “What are you doing here, then?”
The boy leaned against the other side of the door frame, opposite to where she was.
“Got a car to drive next week,” he looked at her for a moment. “Too excited to sleep.”
“Really?”
“Like I’m about to jump off a cliff.”
She rolled her eyes at the boy, who was full on grinning now. His eyes squeezed tiny when he smiled, and she noticed once more the small gap between his front teeth. It was one of the first things she noticed about him when they met, back when she hadn’t even realised who he was.
“Well, I promise I’m trying to make that a bit more pleasant,” she gave him a small smile and surreptitiously checked the wall clock. “About that, I should probably head back.”
He shook his head. “Surely working past 10 o’clock crosses some sort of line.”
“Thought you wanted a good car.”
He squinted slightly. “Am I getting one?”
“No, you’re not,” she deadpanned.
He rolled his eyes, and to her own surprise she finally cracked into laughter, bringing her free hand to cover her mouth as he eyed her curiously.
“I’m sorry, I’m sleep deprived. Anyway, I should–”
“Can I come with you?”
It was her turn to then eye him curiously.
“With me?”
“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his head nonchalantly. “You’re at the sim, right? I have nothing to do.”
“Shouldn’t you go home then?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“I told you I can’t sleep. I won’t bother you,” he leaned his head forward, like a little kid asking pretty please if they could get a second serving of pudding. Surely he had to have something better to be doing that evening, at least that was what Nora expected of a Formula 1 driver.
“Weird way to spend your Friday night, but sure,” she shrugged.
He straightened his head, still looking at her. “I’ve had weirder Fridays.”
She nodded, but didn’t ask what he meant. She had a feeling she knew.
…
Lando dumped himself in the office chair next to hers, the move so energetic the chair rolled a couple of feet backwards. True to his word, though, he quickly adjusted himself flush to the desk, the millions of little lights twinkling in his eyes as he watched the screens as Nora had left them.
Nora had said nothing as Lando quietly followed her down the hallways, quiet as if he’d never been there and she was leading his way. Now that the shock of finding him was wearing off, she was getting to the point of actually processing things.
She didn't have a decent guess as to why he'd asked her to tag along. She knew what he'd told her, about not being able to sleep and having nothing else to do, and maybe hanging with who seemed to be the only other person there at that time could seem somewhat interesting. They'd never hung out, though; in fact, they hadn't ever spoken before that fateful night at the club, and hadn't seen each other since the meeting. After it ended she had intended to thank him for helping diverge some of the tension when James Key, their technical director, was grilling Andrea and her on the project, but the bosses quickly directed her to discuss offers and contracts, so she ended up missing Lando on her way out. After that, she told herself that she hadn’t been avoiding him – the last couple of weeks had been so busy catching her bearings, and there wasn’t any reason why she unavoidably had to speak to Lando. She shamefully swept under the rug in her head memories of avoiding corridors and tables if she caught even the smallest sign of curly hair or neon yellow, because she’d done it without even thinking. Surely she shouldn’t be held liable.
Lando had never sat by her side, watching her work, his attention seemingly unwavering. She felt some weird pressure, something she didn't even experience when the team boss would duck his head to scrutinise her screen every now and then; she felt like she owed Lando something, even if she didn't know what.
Trying to blink her eyes into focusing, she ignored the boy's burning gaze and dragged in yet another variable into the program, the skinny red lines now overlapped by dotted purple ones. A frown quickly formed on her face – there they were, perfectly lining up except for at a few apexes, conveniently forming a pattern. Adding the track locations to the plot, she confirmed that it was most likely a specific place in which the car wasn't performing as well.
Ok, so sector two... not as much downforce as we should be getting, and it's... around Fagnes and Campus... wow, and those are supposed to be nice, high speed corners…
“Why are you looking at Spa?”
She snapped her head towards the sound, only to find Lando frowning at her screen, bending his head forward so he could have a closer look. She could smell his perfume, something deep and musky that, in her opinion, didn’t particularly suit his boyish, youthful demeanour. It was nice, but felt a little like a small boy playing dress up, or an 8th grader trying to fit in with high schoolers.
“What?”
“Why Spa?” He pointed at the section where the corners were listed. “I thought this was, like, some late night cramming session before pre-season.”
She couldn't help but smile, turning towards him to find him already looking at her.
“Have a little faith in us, we’re not sending you out in a late-night-crammed car.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” he leaned back on his chair.
She clicked on a couple of banners, loading yet more data onto her screen.
“This is actually for one of the upgrades," she explained. "I want to have this done before leaving so the boys down at the machine shop can get straight into it,”
“Oh, cool.”
She looked at him. "I said you're not getting a good car. Not that we won't try and make it better."
They settled once more into silence, her fingers quickly working to apply her different setups into the track simulation. Soon enough she was able to get the program running, which meant quite a bit of waiting time as the software actually simulated the laps she wanted. Suddenly her companion spoke again.
“So… can I help?”
She paused, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” The boy protested. “I can help.”
She looked at him for a moment, taking a deep breath. "That's very kind of you, but there's no need. I just need to get some setups done for this floor upgrade. You know, checking if it's any good before anyone builds anything."
"So you're testing. Without a driver?"
"Yes," she tucked a stray hair strand behind her ear, quickly looking back at her screen and typing some extra commands. "Just running through them with the computer, it's fine. You don’t need to bother, really"
"So you're saying an actual driver might be of use?" He looked at her expectantly, suddenly seeming wide awake.
Nora frowned. "Lando, what are you doing here?"
"I'm trying to help!"
"No, Lando," she fully swirled her chair to face him. She spoke firmly, but her eyes were soft. "What are you doing here?"
His eyes looked at hers, but it was as if they were glassed over, two blue-green marbles that weren't really looking at anything. He puffed out a breath, running an exasperated hand through his hair. Closing his eyes, he mumbled, "I think we should talk."
She studied his face, eyes closed in what looked like fatigue, but also weariness. There was the smallest crease in between his eyebrows, like it pained him to think.
As he slowly opened his eyes, Nora caught his gaze and nodded. Lando opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it – she was opening and closing her mouth too, but had no idea where to begin. Closing her own eyes, she took a deep breath, but as she started speaking Lando did too.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
Nora blinked her eyes open, her gaze immediately finding Lando. His eyes were wide, as were hers, but he had a smile forming.
"What are you even sorry for? I'm the asshole fucking with your job," Lando exclaimed, running a hand through his hair.
"What? No, you're not fucking with my job," she shook her head. "Listen, I'm sorry I've been… well, I guess I've been avoiding you."
It was the first time she'd admitted it to herself.
Lando raised his eyebrows. "Avoiding me? I've been trying to stay out of your way."
They stared at each other open-mouthed, shocked by the sheer incredulity of it all. Slowly Lando shook his head, a nervous laughter escaping.
"We're stupid."
"Speak for yourself," she raised both eyebrows, smiling. "No, but we actually are."
"Listen,"he laughed. "I've actually been wanting to talk to you. I'm sorry."
"So you've said," she gave him a look.
He grinned. "Yeah, but I am. And about that night at the club–"
"Yes. Can we move past it?"
Truth was, they should definitely talk about that . There was much to talk about, but neither of them seemed in the mood to push it.
His gaze was fixated on her, nodding slowly. "Yes, I think it's for the best."
She looked down, fidgeting with the chipped edge of nail polish on her thumb.
"We can keep things professional," she nodded, looking up at him. "We're colleagues, we'll need to work together. Speak strictly about work and–"
"Woah there," Lando raised his hands in surrender. "Calm down, girlboss. We can talk about… well I don't know what you like to talk about."
She rolled her eyes. "Sure, we can talk about the weather."
He cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows and giving her a mocking smile. "So you like to talk about the weather? Well, I can't say it's too surprising for an F1 engineer."
"Shut up, Lando," she pushed him on his arm.
"Now that's more like it!" Lando beamed, suddenly jumping up from his chair. "You can push me, I can be one of your mates."
"One of my mates?"
"Yes, come on, get up."
He extended her a hand, which she reluctantly took as she got up from the office chair. He stood right in front of her, arms outreached to hold her right below the shoulders, like a football coach about to give a pep talk.
"Nora," he looked her in the eyes, as she reluctantly returned the gaze.
"Lando."
"Hi," he smiled. "So what do you like to talk about?"
She looked at him expressionless.
"Traditional norwegian knitting," she deadpanned.
"You can't be serious."
"I'm not."
The boy rolled his eyes.
"Lando, do we have to do this? I need to finish up those tests."
"Come on, Nora," he released her shoulders, taking a step back. "Give me something. So you don't actually like this knitting business, that's a start."
She crossed her arms. "Actually I do like that, you just don't have to worry about me bringing it up in conversation."
He pulled over the chair he had been sitting on before, now leaning his arms on the back of it. Nora was already sat again, looking straight at the main monitors which were showing their testing software spitting out simulation results.
"So you like… what was it, norwegian knitting?"
She didn't look at him to answer. "Yes, I do like it."
"Cool, so you actually knit it yourself? "
She turned to face him with raised eyebrows. "Usually when people tell you they like knitting they actually mean… well, knitting."
"Nice, and are you bringing your knitting stuff on the road?" Lando asked nonchalantly.
"I actually haven't– wait, why are we talking about knitting?"
He gave her a triumphant smile. "I told you we could talk about whatever you liked."
Her shoulders dropped, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. She was smiling, though.
"You see? So we can be mates, right?"
She turned back towards the screen, quickly attaching the test results to an email message. Typing in a quick greeting to the guys downstairs, she pressed "send" and watched expectantly the message leave her outbox.
"Nora?"
"You and I, mates?" She turned towards him.
"Friends, whatever you want to call it."
She eyed him for a moment, him looking expectantly at her. Finally, she extended her hand.
"Hi, I'm Eleonora, your performance engineer. You can call me Nora, and we can be friends."