Chapter Text
Before Lance Stroll came along, George had thought she’d figured everything out.
Getting into karting, her sister had been so adamant about blending, about proving herself and that she was better than anyone else, especially the boys she raced against.
Her parents naming her Georgia hadn’t helped, and she’d struggled with how to be ‘one of the boys’ until she’d met Alex. Who, in teasing her one day, had called her ‘George’.
After that it stuck. She was already pretty up and down, looking at her family, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be a voluptuous beauty and could deal with that. Another reason to not stand out as much.
She already stood out. They already called her The Girl. Capitalized, she was The Girl.
Then Lance Stroll moved to Europe and everything went to hell. She had sponsors because she was The Girl, but now their focus was split. And it wasn’t like Lance needed money, or attention. She had both. It really wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that Lance won F3 as the first girl, it wasn’t fair that Lance was the first girl in F1 with a full time seat.
At the same time, it gave her some satisfaction that not all of the guys were nice to her, not in the way they were with George, and that Lance really only had two friends. Got to party and date and do whatever, but Lance had Esteban and Mick and they weren’t really competition to Alex and Lando, in her eyes.
Then she’d joined the grid and they insisted that every year, George and Lance would do some sort of PR together, to show the power of women in Formula 1.
When F1 Academy popped up, George had been heavily into it. Important that there was more than just the two of them, and she secretly hoped one of them would become a good friend and choose her.
One night, she relayed all of this to Alex, who rolled his eyes at her. “Y’know, Georgie, you’re allowed to like girls and guys. Not gonna make the world explode.”
She took umbrage to that, the idea that she wanted anything at all to do with Lance. Inferring that George would like to fuck her was beyond irrational. “Come off of it, Alex."
---
But the thought stuck with her, and she reflected on Lance. With the well placed curves, a lot more of an effortless look than George but always put together. Her fireproofs were different from George’s, too, double layer for compression, which George didn’t need.
It wasn’t until they had a private meeting of all of the F1 Academy girls with the two of them, right before the title decider at COTA, that things came to a head. She’d been early, and she spearheaded the questions. It seemed like most of the serious ones were directed towards her, but the sillier ones towards Lance.
She’d rather have stick up her arse allegations than chiller than chill.
“Y’know, guys, I just do it. We all love to race, so, like, learning to do what we should, leave it all on the track, ignore gossip, that sorta thing."
Easy for her to say, she didn’t need the press. But all of the other girls laughed at this, nodded at Lance.
After the meeting ended, one of the girls had pulled Lance to the side, asked her a question and it got the big Lance laugh. One that George had never been privy too, showing all of her molars, her imperfect teeth.
After this, she just had to know. “What was that all about?"
Lance rolled her eyes. “Just a dumb question she didn’t feel like she could ask you. No offense, y’know?"
George didn’t know. “I would like to."
Lance blew a raspberry at that. “You sure?” George nodded. Lance leaned in, the smell of the same clean perfume she’d worn since they were teens in George’s nostrils. “Well, she asked if I ever get turned on with the vibrations of the car.” She leaned back and laughed at George. “Ah, your face.”
“That is an inappropriate question!” George stuttered out. The answer was obvious to her.
“Exactly why she didn’t ask you. Then she asked about underwear under the suits or whatever.” Which had been an undertaking; she’d refused to ask Lance her preference. George wore high waisted briefs and doubled her sports bra for comfort.
“Well, what did you say?"
Lance shrugged, saw something out of the corner of her eye. “Gotta motor, dude. Talk to you later."
That was not a fair answer at all.
---
George: What did you say to that question, earlier?
Lance: lol really???
Lance: this is what u text me about?
George: Yes!
Lance: told her it depended.
George: ???
---
It came as a surprise when she got her answer the next day. Lance passed her on her way to the Aston garage, mid-paddock. “To answer your question, I’m not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know.” Then she winked at George and went on her merry way.
---
George: I’d really like to have a chat with you about your statement earlier.
Lance: lmao sure, come 2 my room haha
---
Lance was dressed inappropriately for a visit from a coworker. George could see her nipples through the cropped tank Lance had on, one shoulder strap hanging on for dear life, her pj pants low slung and indecent.
But George came in anyway, and before she could get to it, Lance sat down next to her and sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get you so worked up earlier. I know it was like, super inappropriate to say that."
“Yes, thank you."
Lance put a hand on her shoulder, and George turned to look and Lance was -
Eye contact was a surprise. “You seemed like you got pretty worked up about that. So I figured I should apologize. I know I wasn’t nice about it either."
“Thank you."
Fingers took little steps up her shoulder, til they were pinching her bra strap. “Can I be honest with you, George?” George nodded. “I think you’re still pretty worked up."
“Yes, difficult not to be. Quali tomorrow.” George had plenty to do in her room.
“I get that. Neither of our cars are doing really great.” Fair, but she still was a little offended. Not like Lance had much to say, hers was infinitely worse. “So I was gonna blow off a little steam. What do you do to do that, Georgia?"
Lance tugged at her bra strap a little, and she felt her brows shoot up. Lance saw something she liked, however, and kept going, til she had a hand on George’s neck. “Er, exercise, usually."
“I’m a little different. ” George gave her a look, Lance couldn't mean something sexual. “Usually I like to kiss pretty people til I feel better. Have you ever tried that kinda stress relief, Georgia?"
What was with the full name, and why did it make her squirm a little? “Er, yes, but not really anything to write home about."
Lance then had the audacity to slide her hand back, use George’s shoulder and place herself in George’s lap. “I think you should give it another try. Just for research’s sake, George.” Was Lance propositioning her? “Unless you think I’m ugly. Am I pretty, George?"
“Er, yes.” George twitched at that. “Quite."
“Cool, I think you’re beautiful.” Lance had made eye contact again, and she squirmed again. It was ridiculous to be turned on by Lance. This was stupid. “Have you ever, with another girl?” George shook her head. “That makes sense, you’ve always wanted to be one of the boys. But can I kiss you, Georgia?” It came out a little breathy, like Lance was interested too. “Show you the difference, maybe help you calm down?"
“I mean, I don’t think it’ll do much, but sure.” She was trying so hard to be nonchalant but it was atypical, and clearly not working. Lance was smirking, and it was so irritating, it wasn't going to be good -
---
Lance was a damn good kisser.
Lance had great fingers.
Lance, for some reason, had a bloody strap-on in her hotel room, and after she’d stripped George for parts, had George get into her bed and do something quite unseemly. Like beg for Lance to fuck her, whine until it happened, pant like she was running uphill, cum her brains out, then cling onto Lance, try and make her feel the same, and then be stuck in Lance's bed all evening because Lance wouldn't let her go. Followed her to the bathroom, took a shower with her, found her a spare toothbrush and kept an arm around her waist as the brushed side by side. Snuggled in and made George the big spoon and gave her a big kiss goodnight and -
It was impolite to leave. So she stayed.
---
George still wore her sensible underwear to quali the next day, but all she thought about during her breaks was the insane way she’d been put back together by a woman who didn’t wear underwear during FP.