The tension in the McLaren briefing room was palpable.

Alessandro and his team sat opposite to Lando's team- both sides with disgruntled looks on their faces.

It was clear that both drivers were in equally terrible moods.

Lando upset that his race had been ruined and Alessandro the same.

Dakota's efforts to calm him down had all gone to waste the moment he stepped into the media pen.

The Italian had been absolutely shredded by the media during his post race interviews and it was no secret he was fired up and ready to throw a punch.

He could hear the words repeating in his head.

Alessandro, how do you feel knowing you crashed into your teammate? What does Lando think about this? What was Zak's reaction? How will the team recover from this? Do you think this affects your fate at McLaren as you have yet to sign a contract for next year?

It was relentless.

But then again, media showed no mercy.

He hadn't even opened twitter yet and he was already in way over his head.

A hand touched his leg, snapping him from his thoughts.

Dakota gave him a look that made him sit up straight and put on his headphones.

Zak entered the room and took a seat at the head of the table.

"Someone care to explain what the fuck that was?"

And so it began.

Not even 5 minutes into the discussion, both drivers were on their feet.

"I didn't think you'd fucking send it up the inside like a damn torpedo!"

"What else would I do? We're racing. I saw the space and I went for it!"

"There was no space! You made it up in your head because you're so desperate for what you can't have!"

"Bullshit! You're just jealous that I got the win in Sochi. Your ego won't let you give up the place, even when it's team orders!"

Lando stilled, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

No one had ever seen either driver so emotionally distraught. Both Alessandro and Lando cared deeply for racing and even a blind man could see the passion they had for the sport.

"Alright, are we done here?" Zak asked, glancing between the two drivers.

"He started it," Lando mumbled, sitting back down in his seat.

Dakota shook her head, hiding a smile behind her hand as Alessandro did the same.

"Now that that's out of the way, let's get down to business," Andrea's spoke, starting up the data screens.

By the time the debrief had finished, it was already midnight.

Most of the paddock was empty, including the McLaren garage. Everything had been taken apart and packed into the portable crates to be shipped to Abu Dhabi.

"I think you two should talk," Dakota stated, glancing between the two drivers who refused to make eye contact.

To her surprise, Alessandro was the one who stopped walking first. He looked at Lando expectantly. The Brit was busy glaring out at the track, a frown etched on his face.

"Fine," he grumbled, nudging a pebble with his toe.

"I'm sorry for crashing into you. I was trying to go for a move up the inside and I thought I had enough room," Alessandro said.

"I'm sorry for not leaving enough room. You had the racing line and better pace, I should've let you pass."

"See, that wasn't so hard. Was it?" Dakota smiled, patting both the boys shoulders. "Now hurry up and get your shit together. Flight leaves at 6."

Lando nodded, muttering something about a midnight snack before disappearing into the McLaren hospitality.

"I need a drink," Alessandro sighed, making Dakota laugh.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

Suddenly Alessandro remembered what he had been meaning to ask Dakota. He debated bringing up the topic as the pair walked towards the parking lot. The media had left for the day, meaning the two could leave in the same car unnoticed.

"How are you holding up?"

Dakota slowed slightly, reaching up to move her bangs out of her face.

"Eh, I'd rather be anywhere else but here. I hate to say it because Mexico is my home, but it makes me uneasy being back. I feel this pit of dread in my stomach- as if something's going to go wrong."

"Understandable," he replied, opening the door for her.

"I know it's stupid, but I keep thinking about my father. What he would be doing if he knew I was back. Like, would he come to see me? Or would he not care?"

"Hey, don't think like that. You'll make yourself feel worse," Alessandro said, giving her hand a squeeze.

"You're right," she nodded, letting out a long sigh.

"And your brother?" he asked hesitantly, "How is he doing?"

"He's... recovering. I think. I honestly have no clue. He's old enough to make his own decisions and if he want's to waste his life away poking needles in his arms, fine by me," she stated, her words coming out harsher than intended.

Alessandro turned to look at her.

Dakota bit down on her bottom lip, picking at the skin around her cuticles.

"Have you spoken to him?" he asked gently.

"Yeah. He told me to stop calling and then blocked my number," she mumbled. "But his friends told me he was doing okay. They said the drugs make him feel better, less anxious. When he takes them, he feels less stressed. Less agitated."

"Have you tried getting him help?"

Dakota nodded, thinking back to her early high school years.

"This- this isn't the first time he's done it. When I was in high school, we moved around a lot. Emiliano doesn't like change so he didn't take it very well. He was bullied in high school and a group of kids got him on drugs. He was so fucking addicted, he couldn't last two days without withdrawal symptoms. We were oblivious to it, I though it was just stress from school and that he was making himself sick from overworking. That's what we all thought, until he overdosed at a party. He was in the hospital for a week. Then he went to rehab. He's been clean for 2 years."

Alessandro nodded slowly, processing what she was telling him.

"But enough of my problems, what the fuck happened out there today?"

The Italian rolled his eyes. He knew a lot of things, but what he didn't know was how on Earth that crash happened.

"I don't fucking know, Lando's a bit of a dick sometimes," he muttered.

"I think he's just... worried."

"Why would he be worried? He just extended his contract till 2025."

"Put yourself in his shoes for a moment," Dakota said, leaning her head against the window to look at him.

"It's your third year in Formula 1, a new rookie comes along. A year younger, taller, better looking. Right off the bat, everyone's raving about F1's new promising talent. He has a shit first part of the season, comes back after a break and suddenly he's right on the pace. Nearly pimps you for a win in Monza, then get's a win after you fuck up the tire strategy in the race right after. Suddenly everyone's talking about him. Him, him, him. He's stealing your thunder."

"You should work for Netflix."

Dakota blinked, staring at him incredulously. Alessandro bit back a smile, glancing between Dakota and the road in front of him.

A few moments of silence passed before the two burst into laughter.

Dakota's stomach was starting to hurt from how much they had been laughing as they pulled into the hotel's parking lot.

It was a little past 1 in the morning and their fatigue was catching up to them. A sense of deliriousness was setting in- everything was funnier than it should be.

Alessandro threw his arm around Dakota's shoulders and she leaned her head on him, walking across the hotel parking lot.

The sound of a camera shutter closing echoed in the night, but the pair was oblivious as they entered the hotel lobby.

Unbeknownst to them, Alessandro and Dakota would wake up to a bigger headache than the one the went to bed with.