Work Text:
Setting: Formula One 2016, Singapore Grand Prix
Summary: A Wolff Cub may or may not be on the way.
It was iron deficiency anemia.
Your headaches, fatigue, and lightheadedness for the past few days explained in a single go. Yet, that wasn’t the catch. No, it was something much more impactful.
You were pregnant.
Your pregnancy caused low iron levels so not only do you need to take prenatal vitamins but also iron tablets. Though, that’s not the worst of it.
Your HCG levels were low.
Your doctor said it could be that the pregnancy wasn’t viable and would cause a miscarriage or it could be nothing. Your orders were to rest as much as you could, come back in two weeks for your second blood test results to see if anything changed, and for a transvaginal ultrasound.
You were scared but the thought of losing it even though it was unexpected would devastate you.
Yet, the irony of it caused a bitter laugh to escape from your lips as Lewis crossed the checkered flag. The podium for Mercedes.
It has been a week and a half since then.
Toto distracted due to race week to notice anything amiss about you. You didn’t hold it against him. In your opinion, it wouldn’t matter if ever you lost the baby.
It was better that he didn’t know until you were sure.
You were fortunate to not experience morning sickness. However, on this hot day in Singapore, no matter how hard you hydrated you were dizzy at the smallest overexertion.
That’s why you tucked yourself in Toto’s airconditioned office as soon as you could.
Your dizziness is replaced by a headache. Your arm rested on top of your eyes covering them and hoping for the best.
“Toto, they said you were looking for…” Lewis entered, not hearing his knock, “Oh, hey, why are you in here?”
“Not feeling well,”
“Where’s Toto?” he asked, walking up to you.
“Busy,” you mumbled, “At the Paddock with the engineers,”
“Can I get you anything before I go?” he offered, you mumbled a negative, “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here alone,”
“I’ll be okay, Lew,” you try to reassure, “It’s just a bad headache,”
“If you say so,”
You tried to give him a small smile but grimaced at the light. He frowned for a moment and observed you before finally leaving.
You plop down the sofa and hide, in the dark, beneath the blanket that Toto usually kept for your late nights. Your head pounding and body heavy from the fatigue that accompanies pregnancy.
You rest there until your eyes close on their own accord granting you slumber.
In a sea of people, his team principal, your partner, and significant other, Toto Wolff, was hounded by staff asking a multitude of questions.
“Toto,” Lewis called out,
“There’s our man,” Toto grinned, hugging the young driver, “Congratulations,”
“Thank you,” Lewis graciously answered, pushing him back, “However, let’s put that aside for a moment. Your lady is unwell,”
“What?” Toto said, realizing you weren’t there, “Is she at the clinic?”
“No, in your office,” Lewis informed, “A headache,”
“I need to make a statement…” Toto remarked Lewis interrupted, “You need to go to her,”
“Lewis, you, I, and her know that…” Toto explained Lewis interjected, “No, she needs you and I…”
“I have a bad feeling,”
Those words sent him out the door.
His gaze immediately finds you, in front of his desk, as you grip the edge of the oak. Your pale facade and unsteady frame immediately worried him. Your eyes briefly gaze at the blurred figure by the door.
“Toto?”
Just as he reached your side, your knees buckled, and you started to fall. But he was there, catching you in his arms before you hit the ground.
“Schatzi,” he whispered, gently brushing a finger to your cheek, “Schatzi,”
His hand brushed over your forehead concern etched into his features as he reached for his phone to call for medical help. Gently, he managed to maneuver towards the sofa. Your head on his shoulder and body lax in his arms.
His heart pounded beneath his chest. Your pale complexion, a stark contrast to the vibrancy he was so used to. His free hand reached for yours grasped it tight, and whispered sweet nothings to your ear in hopes you would wake.
It wasn’t long until the paramedics arrived.
Around ten minutes at most, the longest ten minutes of his life. His life that you shaved a decade or so off from anxiety.
“Is there any medical conditions we should know of, sir?” the young man asked, “Is there any chance of pregnancy?”
“No medical conditions,” Toto answered, though, the latter, “There is,”
“We need to take her to the hospital,” the young man said, his partners placed you on the stretcher, “A family member can ride with her to the ambulance,”
“I’m her partner,”
They accepted his status as your significant other and was allowed to ride in the ambulance by your side where his subconsciousness started to berate himself.
For not paying enough attention to you. For not noticing that you were ill. For not being enough.
Your eyes slowly opened to the harsh white light of the room. Your ears pick up on the soft beep of medical equipment and the distant chatter of staff. Your left hand is hooked to an IV hanging by the bed.
Hospital.
Your gaze briefly sweeps through the room to find your man seated by your side, bathed in the light filtering through the open window.
His head resting on the edge of your bed, hand holding yours tight. His face is lined by worry for you even in slumber.
“Toto,” you whispered, moving your free hand to run it through his hair, “Meine Liebe,”
The only German you know does the trick.
“Schatzi…?” Toto mumbled, eyes opened, relief and joy coursed through his veins, “You’re awake,”
“How long was I out?” you softly asked,
“It’s been three hours,” he answered, thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand, before gently kissing it, “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” you sighed, “Did the doctor say anything?”
“No, let me call them for you,”
It wasn’t long until the doctor came in to check on you. This was your doctor, the one who informed you of your pregnancy.
They asked if you would like Toto to stay. You ask him to go and freshen up. His lips turned down at the thought of leaving you but smiled.
It’s not like anything worse could happen to you in the hospital.
“Your pregnancy is doing better,” your doctor softly smiles, “Your hCG levels increased this past week,”
“That’s great,” you breathe easier, “How is the baby?”
“They are doing well. However, I’d like to err on the side of caution and recommend a week of bed rest,” they tempered, “Would you like to do an ultrasound?”
“Yes, thank you,” you said, Toto’s uniform peeking through the curtain, “We’d like that,”
“Of course, I’ll be back in ten,”
Once the doctor left, Toto entered anxiously. His eyes searched for answers to your ailment. Your gaze locked on his, your hand in his, and in a deep breath, you say.
“I was keeping something from you,” you revealed, a frown formed on his lips, “I couldn’t tell you until I was sure it was good,”
“Schatzi?”
“Toto?” you whispered enough for him to hear, “How do you feel about a Wolff cub?”
His eyes widened at the implication of your words. You once quipped that every child of his would be a Wolff cub a pun from his surname.
“You’re pregnant?” his voice hoarse in awe, you nod, “Oh, liebling,”
His lips closed the distance in a kiss that poured happiness, and love. It was a moment of celebration that you thought would never come.
“A baby,” Toto whispered, “Are you both well?”
“Yes, we are,”
Your doctor comes back in time accompanied by the technician wheeling in the ultrasound machine.
“Who’s ready to see this baby?” they announced,
“We are,”
Nine months later…
Abigail Marie Wolff came on the off-season weekend.
In the soft glow of the hospital, Toto cradled our baby girl in his arms. His eyes sparkled in wonder as she lay peacefully. Her tiny fingers wrapped around his, her button nose and wisps of hair reminiscent of yours.
“She looks just like you,” he whispered in adoration, “I don’t think I can let her go,”
"You need to," you softly smile at the sight of him, "I need to feed her,"
Your daughter yawned and cuddled closer to in her father’s arms. Your man melted at the gesture. That's when you knew she had him wrapped around her finger.
"No," he denied, cuddling her closer, "She's so precious,"
“Toto?” you called, "If you won't let her go, at least let me join in the hug,"
His gaze softened at your arms stretched over from the bed beckoning him to come closer by your side to cuddle.
Your request is one he would never deny.