Woke up with Alex/Logan brainrot today, please enjoy.
Alex doesn’t know what it is about Logan, exactly, that makes him feel prickly all over. At first he tells himself it’s some kind of sympathetic reaction, because he knows better than anyone what it feels like to end up somewhere before you were ready, or before the stars were aligned or whatever – Alex would kill it in that Red Bull seat now, is all he’s saying – but he understands. Except that Logan, albeit in a Williams, and for James, not Christian and Helmut, manages the mess of his rookie season with a much steadier head than Alex managed Red Bull. And then Alex wonders if it’s that implacability that gets to him.
But it isn’t that, exactly. He was prepared to be annoyed by Logan’s brash American-ness, and he is. It rubs him the wrong way in the way it bothers him when George gets emotional about the Queen, and he can forgive it for the same reason – there’s something sweet about people who know where they’re from and love it. He can see the tight, bright pride bursting in Logan’s chest when the American national anthem plays in Miami and it makes him think of Thailand.
He was prepared to find Logan uncultured, and was almost embarrassed at himself once he got to know him better. Logan traveled like the rest of them, moved to Europe for karting like the rest of them, lost chunks of his childhood and family like the rest of them. Yes, Logan prefers brisket to chicken rice, but Alex probably prefers brisket to the chicken rice they tried for that video, and he’s still kicking himself that he never managed to drag Logan out to a hawker for the real thing. Maybe he’ll compare congee to grits, but he likes grits, Alex learns. He’ll try anything Alex puts in front of him. He’s up for anything, uncomplaining.
Maybe it’s that, the way Logan reminds him of a little brother. The way Alex will tease and needle and make fun, right up until he finds a sore spot, sees a flash of pain, or a note of actual self-deprecation. Then, somehow, he turns into Logan’s biggest cheerleader. He tells himself it’s because he’s committed to being a good senior teammate, that he wants to show Logan the ropes and be supportive. He and Lando talk about this sometimes, because Lando’s in the same position with Oscar but Oscar never seems to make Lando feel like his skin is on inside out. At least, Lando hasn’t ever said. And they’ve played twister.
It’s not frustration that Logan is struggling, because he’s doing his best. Alex sees it every day. He sees how hard Logan works, can tell how much he cares, behind his too-cool-for-Formula 1 Americana photoshoots, and behind his laid-back answers about being a down-home Florida boy. Logan has the same fire they all do, gave everything he had in Qatar, desperate to show the team his heart. Logan poured his heart out to Alex that night, once they were both out of medical. Afraid James wouldn’t trust him anymore, frustrated by the feeling that things beyond his control kept going wrong, ashamed that he wasn’t holding up his end of the points-scoring bargain. Alex thought briefly of his stint at Red Bell, tried to imagine going to Max in the roiling depths of his struggle. It made him want to hurt things. It made him tense and uncomfortable, and he thinks he said the right things to Logan but he still isn’t sure based on the way Logan skirted around him for the next few days.
Alex doesn’t know what it is about Logan until Williams stuffs them into horrible Christmas sweaters for a merch promo shoot, and Alex hates so much that he recognizes the Miami Dolphins logo, that this is who he is as a person now, but Logan is beaming in this stupid sweater that isn’t even the good kind of blue and orange, like the Gulf livery. And Alex kind of hates that he’s in a sweater with random cat faces all over it, because he did not set out to be the crazy cat person of Formula 1 — he doesn’t even run the pet instagram – but they could have at least been his cat’s faces, c’mon. Except Logan laughs when he sees Alex, reaches out and touches one of the cat faces and meows, and something strong and insistent twists in Alex’s chest, and oh he thinks oh. Fuck me. And he thinks I need to phone George and I wonder if Lando is having this problem as if maybe it’s a universal human experience to fall a little bit in love with your rookie teammate, and that certainly would explain some things about Carlos but also, he thinks nobody on the grid has the same quick, sharp dimple Logan does when he’s surprised by his own smile. Nobody on the grid has eyes that dance quite so readily, and so often in step with Alex’s. And Logan doesn’t seem to think anything of it, the home for the holidays vibe they’re working with, elf on a shelf and the slippers and the bizarre implication, in the story of the photoshoot, that they live in this random pub Williams’ social media team have acquired for the occasion.
“You should come visit my family,” Logan says, between marshmallow-laden refills of hot chocolate. “I think you’d love Christmas in Florida.”
Alex laughs. “Pink flamingos and lights in the palm trees?” he asks.
Logan grins, not a trace of embarrassment in him. “Yeah,” he says. His cheeks are pink and happy. “It’s great.”
Alex would kill and die for him. “Only if you promise to come visit Thailand,” he says. “I can show you some proper beaches.”
“Big words,” Logan says, but his eyes are dancing in step with Alex’s. “You just tell me when.”
Now. Alex thinks. Right now. But he grins instead. “I’ll have my people call your people,” he says, and they cheers their half-full mugs of hot chocolate.
