#raikkonen

You carved your way through the crowd once he’d walked off the podium finding him exactly where you'd expected too. He walked towards you, his hand in his hair, shaking it in that way that had no business making your stomach twist. He stopped in front of you and gave that tiny barely there smile that anyone, everyone, would have missed. You hugged him then, Your arms wrapping around his neck. His one arm wrapped around your waist and you felt him holding the other with the hand that held the trophy. He pulled back and you let him. “See you?” He asks, never using more words than he needs to. You nod and he winked walking away, going to deal with all the commitments he always had too. 

“I don’t know how you do it” A voice states next to you, and you smile. It was his assistant, the one who was a lot younger than you, fresh from university, a daughter of some ferrari higher up. The girl who had a hard time with Kimi, not because Kimi was hard, but rather because he was vague. If you didn’t understand his words anyone would be lost. 

“You’ll figure him out soon, Karla. You’ve just got to give it some time, Until then, you have my number” You joke with the younger girl who thanks you before running after your husband. 

You take your time walking back to the Ferrari Hospitality then. Taking in the vibe of the Chinese paddock, the fans walking around, the teams starting to pack up. By the time you make it back to the Motorhome, and get a bottle of water, Kimi finishes his media duties. You sit down on one of the couches on the outside and watch as everyone walks past, many not passing you any mind. You spot Kimi before he sees you. He’s walking with a group of people, others stopping him for photos and quick conversations. 

He spots you as he walks up the steps, and falls onto the seat beside you. His suit is tied around his hips and his fireproof is damp. The people around him disperse, most of the team going inside. He moves with a groan before laying his head on your lap. “When can we go home?” He asks and you chuckle running your hand through his sweat slick hair. 

You smile and lean down to kiss his forehead before smiling at him. “You have a team debrief to do, love” You say and he groans. You laugh with a smile. He goes quiet then and when you look down at him he blinks. “You are so beautiful” He whispers and your smile widens. 

You go to answer before you're interrupted by a small; “Excuse me, Mr Räikkönen?” 

Kimi’s eyes leave yours and meet the younger nervous kid. He’s in his teens, barely, with curly hair and a broken french accent. He’s holding his worn Ferrari hat with shaky hands, a pen between them. “Can I?” He clears his throat. “Can I get you to sign my hat?” he asks and Kimi sits up grumbling under his breath about being comfortable. 

He takes the hat and signs the brim before handing it back. The kid then takes a photo of the three of you, with shaky hands and a phone you sure belongs to his parents. 

“I just want to say, You two are amazing. You um- how do you do it?” He asks and you soften.

“Do what hun?” You ask and he swallows. 

“Work so well even though you're both so different?” He asks, his voice shaking. 

You look at Kimi and smile. He side-eyes you, already disapproving of whatever is about to leave your mouth. You push some hair out of his face. “Well,” you say lightly, looking back at the teen, “he might be the iceman-”

Kimi mutters, “don’t start.”

“-but I know how to make him melt.”

the kid laughs. Kimi doesn’t. You smile before the fan thanks you both, practically vibrating, before scurrying away.

The silence it leaves behind is playful, warm. Kimi pokes your thigh. “You don’t make me melt.”

You raise a brow. “baby, you literally are going to be late to your debrief because you wanted to come lay by me a little bit?”

He looks away like he’s examining the roof for signs of structural weakness. “it was efficient,” he insists.

“oh? Is it now?”

There’s silence for a beat.  “…yes.”

You lean in, brushing your nose against his jaw. “See? melting.”

He exhales through his nose, the tiniest huff of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you talk too much.”

“and you love it.”

He doesn’t answer, but he pulls your legs closer and rests a hand on your shin, gentle, claiming, a little shy. “I should go do my debrief”

You laugh. “Yes, yes you should”