Chapter Text
Soap had his first experience with motorsports at the ripe age of six, his father had taken him to a Rally race, letting his scrawny boyish body sit on his broad shoulders as the cars jumped across the dirt track in front of them. Spraying dirt and mud from the tyres behind them and racing down the track at a speed so fast for Soap’s little six-year-old brain to handle. He had been obsessed.
It was a small nondescript seed his father had planted with that one race, and it grew with massive roots and long winding vines across Soap’s mind. He had bought small toy cars and made racetracks around outside in the garden, every rumble from an engine got his feet running in that direction with big blue eyes he saw the local boys with illegally modded cars revving the engines down back roads.
He had begged his father to let him drive their family car, just down the road getting a firm no in response. He had sat in his uncle’s lap while his tiny hands curled around the handlebars of his old dirtbike, revving the sputtering engine with a massive grin showing all his small teeth. It didn’t take long before Soap’s father had given in and dragged him to a local go-cart junior club, something safer than putting his eight-year-old son on a small dirtbike or in a massive car - he had hoped with the few times they went down there that this car phase would pass.
Unfortunately, it did not, it only fed Soap’s obsession, he loved fast cars. The Go-carting was a good outlet, growing through his boyish years he experimented with everything that rumbled, dirtbikes, rally cars and anything that he could get his grubby hands on.
His first meeting with Formula 1 was at Silverstone at the sweet age of twelve years old. His father had gotten tickets for Soap’s birthday, a shit spot but a Formula 1 race nonetheless. Watching the Formula 1 cars whizz passed them was something Soap would never forget, his ears still hearing the engines of the cars speeding past their shitty spot along the track, the ear muffs his father had put on his head had been dragged off and forgotten at his feet.
But the thing that had been ingrained in his young mind was not the race itself, not the driver’s whizzing past or the car's designs, no, it was from a big screen along the track for when the cars were driving in a different sector. His eyes were glued to the image as the image changed to a pit stop, showing the synchronised team ripping off the tyres and sticking on new ones, how the team’s flowed like water around the car in a matter of seconds before it shot out of Pit Lane again.
Soap had turned to his father, massive blue eyes crinkling with determination as he said “I am going to be a Formula 1 mechanic!”
It was a long shot, years spent alongside his father in the car shop looking at his father fixing cars. After a while he started fixing them too, aside from school he tinkered with cars and fiddled with parts. Oil-streaked hands at the sweet age of sixteen, rough fingertips and building muscle as he worked the heavy work of building back together a car.
Only Sundays were his free time, sitting in front of their shitty TV and watching the Formula 1 seasons trudge by and championships won by good drivers. He scoured every type of information about the cars, how the aerodynamics worked, how it was driven, the engine and everything he could get his hands on. The obsession didn’t let go.
It didn’t let go as he entered university either, gathering as much experience as he could. He took odd jobs working with rally cars during races, fixed go-carts at the local go-cart club near his university and kept an ear out for positions he could apply for within the motorsport.
No one got surprised as he managed to snatch a mechanic job in Formula 3, nor did they get surprised as he worked himself up from that position to Formula 2 and eventually landed a job through an engineer he knew, the RedBull team needed a new pit crew member for the upcoming season and Soap jumped at the chance.
His days of dreaming about Formula 1 had finally been realised. And the 2023 season was his first working on the top modern cars.
Soap was nearly vibrating as he stepped into the Red Bull garage, albeit not for the first time, it was the first time where he was an active pit crew member during a race. They had all prepped for this, starting back in February for testing and fine-tuning the Bulls for the upcoming season, doing the last-minute adjustments before letting them loose for the drivers to steer.
There was excitement in the garage today, everyone sporting full crew suits as everyone ran around getting ready for practice day, the Friday was warm and dry, perfect weather for practice.
Rudy stood by the tyres, checking them over and grumbling about something under his breath. Rudy had been the lead mechanic in the team since last season, a quick friend ever since they met back in early February when Rudy was the one to show him the ropes around the garage and what Soap was supposed to do.
“Hey hermano,” Soap slid into the spot next to him, “the tyres good?”
“Yes,” Rudy glanced back, lacking gloves over his hands, brows furrowed and an anxious expression on his face, “we are switching the order, you’re on Ghost crew, the lead mechanic there was fired yesterday.”
Soap raised an eyebrow, glancing back towards the team leaders as they sat around controls and argued about tactics probably, “I have never worked with that crew?”
“You will have to now,” Rudy looked apologetic, “it will be fine, Ghost is… Ghost but you have been amazing here since February, I was the one suggesting you transfer over.”
That last bit warmed Soap’s heart, but the anxiousness trailed soon after, making his palms sweat and skin tingle. Red Bull had two very good drivers, Alejandro Vargas who had won a few championships and held the second seat for the team. And the crew Soap was supposed to work with.
And Ghost.
Well, in reality, his name was Simon Riley, but no one in the whole sport called him that, not even himself. He had gotten the name after seemingly appearing out of thin air one day many years ago now on the track, a rookie on a small team with a low budget had racked in wins after wins making the bigger teams scramble to get the man as their lead driver. The name was given to him by fans and other drivers as he seemed to haunt the rearview mirrors and podiums with his presence. Weaving past his opponents like a shadow.
Nothing was well known about the man, no social media, no big wealthy family to his name, just a simple rookie working his way through Formula 3 and 2 until he landed his arse in a Formula 1 car. The fans loved him, the press loved him even more. There was a mystery to him, his name was barely connected to him as he only went by Ghost, and his face was always covered to a degree too. A cloth mask over the lower part of his face or the balaclava from his helmet. If you google “Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley face” the only images coming up are covered ones. No one seemed to know what he looked like underneath the fabric.
The thing that was well-known about him was his temper, he had a coolly detached aura to him, barking out his annoyances when they appeared and yelling if things didn’t get done in time. Soap had heard some vague horror stories working in pit with the driver. And saw the paparazzi pictures of the man breaking their cameras when shoved up in his face, he wasn’t a man who pleased others except for the higher-ups when he won championships.
So sue Soap for being nervous. Alejandro had a temper too, explosive and threatening, but not like Ghost. Soap could deal with harsh words and Spanish curses directed towards him when he fumbled with something, but the cold intense anger when Ghost got mad was a different story.
Despite all that though, even if Soap thought he lacked a hell of a lot of self-preservation, he couldn’t help but feel hot under the collar when he saw the masked man during early testing and haunting the shadows of the garage and the workshop. He didn’t want to admit he had a crush, but he had a massive fat crush on that man, he couldn’t help it. He had just thought he never would muster up the confidence to actually talk to Ghost, but it seemed faith had a different plan, practically throwing him to the wolves.
Rudy bustled about with the tyres, and the rack for Alejandro’s car got pulled further in for easy access and storage. Soap glanced desperately at Rudy who didn’t seem to notice his nervousness, “what am I doing on his crew?” he asked pathetically and meandered over to where Rudy typed in some information into a tablet hunched over a table in the back.
“Secure him in the seat, give him his gloves, helmet, the HANS and steering wheel,” Rudy flashed a weak smile, other crew members chattering around them and mingling while doing their work. “You are also the one giving him the spare steering wheel if he needs it,” a shout from a different corner of the garage got Rudy’s attention as his brows furrowed, “it will be fine Soap, just remember this order, helmet, HANS device, secure, gloves and steering wheel, do that and he won’t pay attention to you.”
“Thanks, that really drove up mah confidence,” Soap drawled out, getting a pat on the shoulder as Rudy yelled out something for the commotion further out in the garage, quick Spanish curses leaving his lips as he hurried over there. With nothing else, Soap walked towards the other side of the garage, parted by some tyre racks for spare tyres and wets, a different but similar commotion happening as Ghost’s car got prepped for practice.
A different crew member saw him and waved him over, shoving a helmet bag and pointing him towards a spot where the steering wheel and the spare sat, giving him a thumbs up, “we roll out in ten!”
Soap nodded and checked over the steering wheel, going through checklists and lining the gear Ghost would need while driving.
There was a hush falling over the garage as Ghost stepped into the garage in his race suit and balaclava up to his nose, he looked around and nodded towards the pit crew and walked around the car slowly. The team leaders barked out orders and expectations and also the time frame, and suddenly everything started to happen all at once.
Ghost stepped up to him, raised a blond eyebrow and a questioning look over his face, “Where is Johan?” he asked, voice deep and gravelly.
Soap didn’t know, stuttering out some noises as he stared up at Ghost, how that dude squeezed into a Formula 1 car was beyond Soap, Ghost was a large man. Tall and broad, with muscular shoulders and a slim waist. “I dinnae ken where Johan is, lead mechanic here got fired so there are probably some jobs being shuffled around. The name is Soap or John,” he managed to blabber out, withering slightly under the calculated look coming from Ghost.
“So, you’re taking Johan’s position?” Ghost asked, still that calculated look on the few uncovered parts of his face. Soap nodded, trying to quell the nervousness and lean into the easy self-confidence he had always suffered from. He squared his shoulders and leaned a bit back into the table behind him, Ghost only leaned a bit down into his space, intense brown eyes staring him down. “Don’t fuck it up, Soap” he warned, low and a bit intimidating. Making Soap weirdly hot under the collar and panicked at the same time.
“Aye Ghost,” he answered fishing out his best smile as Ghost straightened back up and walked away.
It was easy to slip into the already worked-out routine of the crew, albeit Soap fumbled with where his place was being in a different position than the one he used to be at with Alejandro.
He gave Ghost the helmet, a black one painted in a skull fashion with the number 1 on the sides, the Red Bull logo on the front and dark red colour accents within the design. A few sponsor logos littered the sides but it was an intimidating helmet nonetheless.
Ghost didn’t say anything as he got the helmet over his head, nor when the HANS device got handed to him either. Climbing into the car was like watching a magician contorting their body into a small box, long muscular limbs vanishing into the chassis of the car.
He got the man secure and checked over the belts and straps keeping Ghost in the seat as he got the man’s gloves. Ghost barked out something in the helmet towards the race engineers over the team radio, sticking out a hand towards Soap who hadn’t paid proper attention, eyes glued towards the rest of the pit crew fiddling with the right front tyre, “Soap!” Ghost barked from the car, making Soap drop the gloves, he felt like he was burning as he handed the man his gloves. Intense brown eyes stared at him from inside the helmet, “Fuckin’ hell,” came from Ghost as he dragged on the gloves.
The car rolled out, Soap fiddling with the sterling wheel as the last-minute things got sorted and the car started. A deep rumbling engine that got Soap giddy where he stood, handing the wheel to Ghost, flashing a thumbs up to the driver, getting only a mirrored helmet visor back.
Practice went without a hitch, nothing needed to be adjusted and Ghost commented vaguely that the car was good.
Rudy thumped him comradely on the back on their way back to their hotel for the night, “you did well amigo!”
It didn’t last, not because Soap was bad at his job, he was rather good. Quick thinking and working under stress were his element, and working in the pit lane was as easy as breathing for him on some days. Despite this, he was deemed to fuck up.
Qualifying had the press, who was already there since Thursday, swarming everywhere they could get their cameras, other cameras like the ones filming around the track were also everywhere. Soap felt exposed where he stood next to Ghost, camera shutters going off at their every move as Ghost climbed into the car, a lens filming his every move being live documented to the die-hard fans tuning in. Soap stumbled through the checklists, Ghost was silent, a bit pissy if you asked Soap, but silent nonetheless. They were rolling out to pit lane for Ghost’s qualifying round, and Soap had seen something off with the steering wheel just as he gave it to Ghost. But there was no time, Ghost had it secured into the car within seconds, engine rumbling on and Soap just hoped to whatever gods that he had seen wrong.
It went to hell, Ghost’s time got flunked as the steering wheel seemingly out of nowhere stopped working as it should. Seething cold rage could be heard over the radio as the lap time grew longer and longer, Soap felt the dread prickle against his neck when Ghost finished his lap, earning a time that got him way back on the grid for race day.
It was quiet when Ghost entered the garage again, eyes searching the crew until they landed on Soap, stomping towards him with imaginary smoke coming out of his ears, “what the fuck was that?” Ghost ground out, stopping close enough to Soap so that he had to crane his neck back to keep eye contact.
“Sorry,” he started but Ghost shook his head and stepped a small step further into Soap’s space.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, the fucking wheel was loose,” Ghost seethed, tense shoulders and icy brown eyes. Soap felt small under the harsh gaze.
But he hadn’t come this far without having seriously thick skin, he didn’t let himself wither under the harsh gaze, “it won’t happen again.”
It was a tense moment, and Soap swore he could hear the camera shutters and the slow zoom coming from outside the garage, but Ghost had seemingly gotten enough of the chewing out, stomping out of the garage while assistants came running behind him.
The trending headlines on social media under Formula 1 was a picture of Ghost glaring down at Soap with the title, “trouble in pit lane for former champion!” Fans ate it up as the ‘drama’ ran a rampage on discourse platforms.
In the end, it didn’t matter though, Ghost lived up to his name and reputation on track during race day. The first race of the season in Bahrain in Sakhir of the 2023 season, went without a hitch. Ghost climbed the positions steadily during the race, pit stops got done beautifully fast and he got second place after Mercedes lead driver Kyle Garrick took first place. Alejandro drove in third earning Redbull a double podium for the first race.
Rudy had hugged Soap down in the garage when Ghost got second, muttering something about the Bahrain curse not getting them this season.
“We’re celebrating aye?” Soap asked when the crew had secured the bulls for transport, Rudy nodded from his spot leant against a wall.
“I’m showing you the world of partying with the pit crew after a well-done race,” Rudy smirked, a near-feral grin as they stepped out of the garage together.