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Chapter Text

The ramp up to the first race of the season is intense in all teams
Juno is well known for pushing drivers through rigorous training regimes but Percy feels adrift. In the wake of his championship battle with Thalia he had been angered by Chiron and Tyson insisting he used his off season wisely. Building up his media persona was not an exciting break plan but at least Mr D seemed to understand his hatred for all the showmanship even if the wine soaked layabout wouldn’t do anything to help Percy
Rashly he had pushed away his team and now had no one to meal prep with him, force him to do weights, or to drag him off the sim.
Long nights in Monaco dragged into days while putting in lap after lap on the sim but Percy decided that he had had enough. After being desperately short of breath while bringing groceries into the apartment he set about devising a new, more rigorous workout plan. Tyson, though a close friend, was undoubtedly a terrible personal trainer.

3 weeks until preseason testing
Sweat pouring down Percy’s back soaks into the thin fabric of his shirt. Feet pounding over the cobbles lining the Marina as he pants like an old dog. Percy had always hated running and his current fitness kick was not endearing it to him.

2 weeks until preseason testing
A glorious sunset shines light across the cluttered apartment highlighting the slumbering man's face. Percy’s hand drifted up to his face, fluttering through his own mop of curls and checking his head for any blood or tenderness. What felt like moments earlier he had stood too suddenly from a simulator session, maybe deciding to end a session as the sun was rising is a sign of a bad sleep schedule, black spots crowded his vision till it narrowed. Grey curtains crowded out the buzzing spots. That was all Percy remembered until now, waking on the wooden slats. He knew fainting was a horrific sign. Professional athlete or not, 10 hours collapsed on the floor was testament to something wrong but it's not that big a deal right?

1 week until preseason testing
The plane is going to take off tomorrow. Testing in Barcelona had been creeping closer, the media ramping up to pull the drivers out of hiding. Percy felt embarrassed to admit he was scared, scared of people seeing him, scared of the merciless media, scared of being back with his team. They would expect him to be the same as the champion who had gone into winter break, all that was left now was a terrified chubby boy not yet twenty one. Percy believed himself a wuss.
“You’ve lived your whole life for this dream, don’t waste it now for gods’ sake!”
Attempting to distract himself from a self deprecating inner monologue, Percy tried to guess what kind of upgrades the team would have made over the winter, the floor was the biggest issue last year but their constructors win would have left them with very little air tunnel time to actually solve the balance issues.

Chapter Text

Percy dearly wanted a drink. He knows it would be difficult on a plane between Monaco and Barcelona but he is desperate.
He wanted to visit a bar after the dry airplane cabin.
“Note to self, do not let any of my sleep deprived jokes leave the notes app” muttered Percy.
A 2 hour flight was not a good place to forget your headphones, Percy fantasized over his cushiony headset while shoving Reyna’s shitty plastic earbuds back in for the fifteenth time. Could you tear an ear canal? If he managed to, Percy was so going to sue Reyna’s ass off. Yes she had let him hitch a ride to testing on her jet but his ears were more important!

Aside from harassing his ear further Percy had to occupy himself with scrolling through the meal plan Tyson had sent over for the upcoming season. Carbs, “healthy” fats, sugar laden drinks, and cheat days? A slimy invasive feeling trickled down his throat as he imagined having to eat three meals a-day as well as whatever energy bars or shakes Tyson palmed onto him. Percy was proud that over the break he managed to keep to one carefully portioned meal per day
the wobbles were not important
Stuffing lumps of fat and sugar down his mouth was just wrong, the media would see, Gabe would see, and he would see his weight tick up and up until the car could hardly start.
“World champion looses all races due to lack of discipline” was a headline that flickers through Percy’s mind
Tyson just doesn’t understand; Percy needs to be thinner, lighter, stronger. A racing driver cannot be fat.

-

Heading to the gym as soon as he entered the hotel was maybe a bit obvious but Reyna had forced him to eat with her on the plane and he needed to get it out.

Reyna had missed her friend over the break, offers of dinner or drinks in their favourite bars disregarded. She felt she needed to see Percy before testing because that boy could pile the pressure on himself. He looked different, worn somehow but Reyna saw his purpled under eyes and forced a meal into him then ordered the cabin lights to be dimmed. There would be plenty of time to talk.

The few hours since the meal meant he couldn’t rely on his fingers so Percy strapped himself onto the erg.
Back and forth. Pulling the damned chain out of the machine again and again just for it to be wound back in on the next stroke. The repetitive motion soothes Percy’s mind, the twinging muscles in his back allowing him to distance himself from constant obsession over macros and protein and levels of training. Pouring himself into the exercise was what he was made for and if he used the sprains and aches to keep himself accountable, that is no one else’s business.

“Bro, I was looking for you everywhere!” Tyson’s dulcet tones carried over music pounding from his earbuds.
Percy loves his trainer, he does! But the man has the subtlety and tact of an inebriated baby elephant.

“How long have you been on there?”

Shit, this wasn't in the training plan. Today was a travel and rest day.

Percy tries to assure Tyson that he just needed a quick row after the long flight, quick stretch and keeping blood flow to the muscles, nothing strenuous. He was on the machine for max 20 minutes, seriously! Percy tried to subtly twist his torso to block the shining 90 minute sign on the machine.

Tyson pulled some mats to his side of the gym suggesting some stretches. “Don’t want you getting all stiff on the car, I know Chiron and Mr D are desperate to show your new ride off.”

Mr D, the team principal of Scuderia Juno F1 and Chiron the operating director of the Juno racing teams. Percy races for the reigning world constructors champion and he does not want to think about what they will do to keep that title. Chiron is always desperate to improve Juno and the sister team Hera. Percy and Nico joke he would sacrifice his soul for Juno and Hera to have a 1-2-3-4, through that liquor laden conversation the underlying worry of what Chiron would do to them in order to succeed ran. Whispers of Thalia and Magnus at Artemis and what training plans Artemis forced Thalia into to carry on Magnus’ winning streak meant the power and control of the scuderias over the drivers was ever present.

After a gentle stretching Percy stands up slightly too fast.
Not here. Not now.
A buzzing fills his ears. Dancing black lights careen across Percy’s view until he steadies himself against the mirrors.
Shaking off Tyson’s concerned hand, Percy heads up to his rooms, he wants to sleep until he manages to balance this war between body and mind.
The remains of the evening; a sweaty handprint on some hotel mirrors and a whisper of doubt in Percy’s trainers mind.

Chapter Text

Slipping into the moulded seat Percy lets out a sigh of relief. He has space within his moulded cockpit. Last year it had actually fit, his rolls of fat pressing to the carbon’s shape.
This shows his endless hours of sweaty running and tortuous rowing was successful in burning superfluous fat from his body
The little twinge of fear Percy has at the lack of a close fitting seat to provide crash protection is hurriedly shaken off. Racing drivers have to be small, lithe, fast.
-
Green lights for pit exit. The car glides out.
Kilometres of track being eaten up by his hard Pirellis, Percy feels confident in a way he hasn’t since the season ended, comfortable at 250km/h in a way that his plush sofa or muscle ache can’t provide.
“Wham, bam, met a girl named Pam
I poke and thank you Ma’am”
Percy serenades the sun bleached curbs of Barcelona, body filled with the thrill of slinging a 1000 horsepower machine around a funky shaped circle.
“Nice tunes Perce but how are you finding the tyre deg, remember the track temp is low but -”
“Got it Zoe, fuel load high, try to stretch ‘em for 24 laps for the one stop race sim, I did read the briefs ”
Zoe Nightshade, Percy’s race engineer scoffs at her driver. Talented but so blunt, Percy can transform a dull factory day into a comedy show with his antics but behind his dark curls he has a brain. Surprise! To partner his race smarts, the often ridiculous guy works like he is on the verge of a contract termination.
-
The reigning world champion envies Nico. Yeah being in the junior team for two years sucks, but Annabeth was so far up Chirons ass she won’t be fired unless she does something truly outrageous. Percy is seething at being forced to do media while Nico is already back at the hotel reviewing data. Eternal questions about upgrades and team spirit wash over Percy till a journalist seems to steady themself before plunging into the debate with
“And Percy, some fans have mentioned you look quite different to the end of last season. Is this the stress of defending a title or problems within the team?”

Damn
Fuck media
That was a low fucking blow

“I have obviously been training over the winter as all other drivers have. Yes, stress comes with defending a title but all of the team at Juno and I have been working hard.”
Percy knows he sounds combative and harsh but this is such a left field question for a pre-season press conference.
The journalist sits down and slowly the dull questions trickle back in.
Percy’s glower dissuades any more questions towards him, he was so thankful for that as the fuzz he has been battling constantly has crept back in.

-
Levering himself out of the conference centre feels akin to jumping in a weighted vest. Black spots obscuring Percy’s vision. One step. Another. Another. Now the door.
But lightheaded means light driver so Percy has to keep this up, Gabe pushed him so hard through karting; It can’t go to waste. He can stand a little weight loss if it means keeping his spot at the pinnacle of motorsport

Chapter Text

“I kinda get that question. I mean I wouldn’t have asked that but seeing you up close, is something wrong? .You look like shite Jackson. ”
Jason is perturbed by Jackson’s apathy during the press conference. The typically bubbly and wildly grinning driver is known for aggressive maneuvers behind the wheel and endearing charm on the press conference sofa.
“Hello? Can I get a response? Jackson? Percy, Perce!”
Now he is actually worried. The pair had been rivals since they could shift gears but somewhere quietly over the years a quiet companion ship has been fostered.
Shoving the Juno driver's shoulder finally gets a muffled response.
“m’fine Grace, fuck off”
Really? Jackson looks like death warmed over, pale and sweaty. And Jason is being told to leave him shivering and swaying in a hospitality corridor. Wrapping an arm around the taller driver's shoulders, ignoring the slight flinch at the contact, Jason begins to tug Percy towards Juno's garage.
“I know you're not alright but I can't just leave you like this. We are going to see Tyson.” Grace mutters in Percy's ear.

“Get the hell away from my teammate”
Snarled Nico diAngelo, freshly 19 and a fucking demon. The main driver for Scuderia Hera has a temper second only to Percy and Clarisse.
“ I said get your hands the fuck off him!”
Wanting to avoid the wrath of the pasty teen, Jason releases his rivals frail shoulders.

Chapter Text

The fucking battery. The thrice damned fucking battery
Percy hauls his weight out of the infernal car and starts to walk toward his drivers room. Passing Annabeth’s own cubicle they lock eyes and she gives the younger driver a slight shrug as if to say “well at least they can’t blame us for this”
Tumbling onto his cramped drivers quarters sofa Percy shoves the balls of his hands deep into his eye sockets and tries to purge the memories of his fucking engine failure on the final few laps out of his brain.
-
Seeing Jason in the hallway after their press duties is a nice touch to a failure of a night for scuderia Juno. Two DNFs and both Hera’s out of the points stings after double championships the year prior. Fuck does Percy feel like a shitty world champion. The usual pleasantries fly between the pair with a slight undertone of tension that Percy is steadfastly ignoring.
“Are you sure you were alri-”
“Annie was a legend for covering that question for me. Can you believe they tried to blame my engine giving up entirely on me?”
Percy swiftly breezes past Jason’s concern and begins to complain about the drama driven press. Memories of a bowl of nuts passed around in the team meeting did haunt Percy convincing him that the high fat snack engorged him enough to cripple the machinery. But now, he would gossip.

“Then she was like “how is the title fight affected by this” after one bloody race. Like c’mon mate get a life!”
The call from Percy’s harried looking press officer silences Jason once more. With an apologetic look in his doe eyes and a call for a coffee together in Saudi Percy rushes off to terrorize another journalist.
Pungent odours of coffee swam through the quiet murmuring hush of the cafe. Percy breaks the calm atmosphere of the platonic date by questioning “How are you feeling after the news?”
“A bit rough. I guess it's always rough to you know be eliminated but I just feel stupid being 350 grams over the weight limit”
Jason's normally calm demeanor is pulsing with frustrated energy.
The pair typically spend these little meetings trying to avoid racing talk but as two drivers you can never really survive in the pinnacle of motorsport without a little obsession, a little passion, and a little stupidness. Not to say the pair are not talented, strong, and driven individuals but Percy finds it a smidgeon insane that they were making their entire lives revolve around hurling a tin can at 300 kph and hoping to miss the concrete walls.
“I should have just gone for a run before the race then wouldn't be stuck like you last season arguing with the FIA”
Jason lightheartedly derides his lack of running and any kind of cardio in the runup to Bahrain claiming that his preferred resistance and weight training is so much more effective and less soul sucking. A cough forces it’s way out of Percy’s mouth. Was that really what Jason thought of him? A fat, running obsessed, and argumentative has been? Before self-destructive thoughts fill Percy’s consciousness his conversation partner begins to exhibit the rewards of his gym sessions.
The arm Jason lifts to tense, rests around Percy’s shoulders, forcing Percy to imagine it around his waist. Lightly tanned biceps flexing as they push him down onto soft pillows and broad shoulders lifting him up. Ropes of muscle rippling under flushed skin as he thr-
Where the fuck had that thought come from?
Is Percy a fangirl or a driver?
His anonymous tick tock account he uses to watch Jason’s edits suggests the former. But the editors always manage to dig up sumptuous footage of his boyhood crush. Underlay old clips with a killer beat and Percy has something to keep his sinful mind quiet for a night.

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Rushing past and irritating his fellow drivers seems to be all Percy can do recently. Jason’s meaningless pleasantries and half hearted attempt at condolences over poor finishing positions are irking him.
“Now why don’t you just fuck right off and shove your 10 whole points up your pretty little ass!”
Is the whispered bellow from the reigning world drivers champion who had to retire due to another fucking engine failure. Rolls of fat and sagging jowls were what caused the stroke pistons to fail in Albert park. Percy is mentally adjusting his workout plans and somehow manages to miss Jason’s crestfallen face as the pair are separated by the tides of the paddock.

Jason turns away from the conundrum that is Percy Jackson and realises he is late for his team’s home race duties.
“Fuck fuck fuck! Terminus is gonna kill me!”
Sprinting towards the Australian based team’s hospitality Jason can’t stop thinking about Percy. Full of certainty that something is wrong with the champion and panting with exertion in the heat, Jason crosses the threshold of Hephaestus hospitality. Jogging towards his teammate being fussed over by the socials team Jason resolves to ask her about Percy.
“Get your ass over here so we can finish filming and go home!” is the gruff call from Jason's experienced teammate, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano one of the most experienced drivers on the 2022 grid.
Between shots for a sponsor video the two pilots find a moment for quiet conversation.
“Look Jason, it's not my place to go around telling Percy's rivals about –”
“Cmon Reyna, we've been friends since we were little tykes in karts” is Jason's impatient rebuttal to his teammates lack of elucidation.
“Friends?
You and Percy? Cmon Jason, we saw you youngsters around the single seater paddocks and we both saw how Gabe treated Percy. Did you ever step in?”
The calls of their team principal Terminus summons both drivers back towards the cameras and enforces a halt on their discussion.

-

Reyna's parting words cling to Jason through his long flight to Italy. How many times had he seen Gabe cuff Percy around the jaw after a minor mistake? Had he really stood by as a boy, 6 months his junior had been brutally derided for standing on the lower steps of the podium?
Jason can’t remember how many times.