Chapter Text
lewis already expected how this rosso corsa enveloped him from head to toe. he put out his best smile to his staff. he also noticed how charles’ lips turned into a small quirk at him.
the smile that creates dimples. cute. charles is cute. a good boy with big-heart and a great mentality. one feature he likes to have charles leclerc as a teammate is that he is pretty, that's it. they can make good endorsements.
nevermind, lewis does not come to ferrari to play tug and war. he is here with one goal: claim the eight.
(he won't let himself bleed. he won't turn out to be a carcass just like sebastian vettel did.)
–
there is something about the water in maranello. that is what prophecy has been going viral. what prophecy? lewis has yet to uncover.
the sooner he arrives at maranello, the sooner he will experience the language barrier. he decides then, to give a new year, new start, new me.
turns out he shit at learning languages so charles translates as best as he can with typical incohesive grammatical english, still understable, but anyway.
charles is caring, too caring, it felt familiar somehow. it went like this:
“you don’t speak another language besides english?” the pretty boy, yes charles is pretty, asked while they were doing some little tour.
lewis shook his head, “i’m trying, man!”
charles blinked up at him. a ray of golden sunrise hue shone on his hair. it’s angelic. there is something about charles’ emerald eyes that reminds him of some slytherin poisons, then his brunette locks that glow under the golden light.
“i can teach you.” he offered.
lewis felt the world turn in slow motion. his thoughts wander to dangerous territory, walking on thin eggshells. some young man reverberating echoes passed along his mind–
(“there is no way i could repeat the italian you taught me on television! this is a family show!”)
ah that was…
lewis let out a huff to cut off the ties with his past echoes.
“how can you become a multilingual?” he eased his racing heart with a broken laugh.
charles didn’t laugh with him, instead, he just smiled. “if you ask me, well maybe it’s a monaco thing?”
lewis shrugged. of course, he is monegasque.
—
they go for a quick pit stop at the gelato store in front of maranello.
“this is our favorite cheat meal.”
lewis doesn’t ask who is “our”. his mind was preoccupied with another reminiscent of the past. a great way to start the new year with old, hackneyed habits ; ice cream, summer, greece.
turns out “our” means charles talks mostly about carlos sainz junior. during their ice cream shopping and while he is showing lewis his maranello apartment.
“sorry, it’s not that neat.” he grins sheepishly when lewis stumbled into one of charles’ shoes as they entered the main room.
lewis bid him a quick pat. he understands these youngsters aren’t aware of things outside racing.
“i tried my best to keep it neat because carlos used to complain a lot, if he came here.” charles walks toward his untouched clean kitchen.
that is third time carlos sainz junior is mentioned, lewis hummed as he kept on track by counting on his finger pad.
he sit on the kitchen bench and there is a grandeur kitchen set in front of him. the dust is visible enough to conclude that he never used any of his utensils.
“i know you don’t cook, so pick up?”
charles nods, not knowing if his gesture is supposed to answer lewis question or merely a polite act. “tea or coffee?” he asks instead.
“tea is fine.” lewis put his chin on his palm, watching charles move in his kitchen. “you drink coffee?” he opened the conversation.
“no” the answer is short as the sound of water poured from the hot kettle.
lewis raised his eyebrows because that brown thing tucked in the corner between fridge and sink is literally an espresso machine. that cafe machine, yes, that big one.
lewis almost opens his mouth but then he remembers he is a good guest. a good guest doesn't pry the host's privacy, let alone their belongings. he is a good kid from a lower class family. his father teaches him manners. so he acts like one.
lewis let the silence wash them until charles is the one who broke it,
“carlos drinks coffee. it’s one of his spare.”
the fourth time, carlos sainz is mentioned and this time he didn't spare any look to lewis. just like he knows lewis will ask the question.
“does he come here a lot?” lewis asked out of curiosity.
is this kind of carlos sainz junior thing to make friends with every teammate he had? from with max in toro rosso resulted in his poor debut performance. to hulkenberg in renault gave absolutely nothing then to mclaren only to be ditched by the team from number one driver to sidekick by another rookie, who now became his buddy mate. then onto ferrari to be… charles leclerc’s sacrifices? devotion? underdogs? like perez’ to max? or valterri to him? because that is what it seems. so far.
f1 isn’t a playground. be aware of teammates who can be your closest enemies. one phrase carlos sainz senior loves to use, bite or get bitten, looks like the junior plays on the edge to get bitten.
“yeah, his cycling track passed mine rather than his. sometimes after sim training, he cooks dinner but other times he just crashes out on the sofa like a dead log.” charles giggled while soaking the tea bag into crystal glass.
“his cycling track?”
“yep.”
lewis crane his head and find charles looking at him. “he makes dinner?”
the monegasque nods, “you should try his burger. god, jesus, that is the best cheat meal ever.” he rolled his eyes exaggerating. both dimples displayed full across his face.
and yet, this is nothing but the act of a judas. lewis senses something genuine and domestic. hm, he has been itching to say: “you two were close huh?”
charles blinks at him. he didn't see that question coming.
“we are each other's longest teammate. so… make sense , no?”
lewis hummed and finally sip his long awaited tea. charles leclerc is good.
a good liar, apparently.
teammates don't know how each other tastes, he wonders.
—
they do, apparently. lewis can’t shake off the thought of how young and naive he was. to taste his own best friend and teammate. he just couldn’t resist.
his long blond strain was shining through the italian sun. salt air and sticky skin against each other.
lewis can’t forget. it was a mistake. it was disastrous. but they kept playing with fire until it burnt them to ashes. lewis can't sleep through the night in his brand luxury maranello apartment.
everything reminds him.
—
ever since charles adverts his gaze to carlos in the paddock, he sees those green eyes light up, lively. different smiles charles offers at maranello.
maybe it's a brush of melancholy because charles never had time to grieve carlos' departure and he still carries part of him. just like jules, anthonie, his father.
lewis sucked his breath under his sunglasses. even though the sun is hiding behind the clouds, wear sunglasses can be convenient for some cases: such as that he can observe the two blue red drivers in their own corner.
he keeps kimi and hadjar entertained because rookies are easier to deal with. while his eyes darted back and forth to see them– moving inch by inch, closer, brushing shoulders, dimples out, nose scrunching and fond eyes and easy banter alongside soft laughter under the cherry blossom.
huh, okay, romcom. what so funny, really. lewis scoffed. apparently kimi noticed his expression changes so lewis come up with immediate excuse,
“hey man, i left my umbrella down there. it’s gone!”
–
three races in 2025, three times they are inseparable. so he starts to wonder, again, if charles and carlos do;
throw kisses and knives at the same time? do they know that twin flames can bruise them blue or how far did they explore each other's bodies?
hold on, that went too far.
lewis had to ask. he sometimes is not like this, nosy to someone's privacy, but he just had the urge to ask. do you get it?
they are upon the clouds. engine drifting slowly ten thousand above the sea and they finally left alone. he watched charles scroll his phone lazily.
“how are you with carlos?”
“we’re good” one leg crossed on top of another, still not looking at lewis.
okay that’s a lowkey insult. lewis teached manners, remember? at least look at the person's eyes when they talk to you.
nevermind. he doesn’t want to get the impression of an old school guy. he averted his gaze to charles questionable fashion.
today, charles chose to wear oversized hoodies and pants. he said the other day when they talked about fashion that hoodies represent him because he is a shy person. lewis agree at that time.
but then it becomes funny, the way it doesn't make any sense since charles customized all his team t-shirt and racing suit to a tighter size, especially on his waist. for convenient matters? not sure for hundred percent but he let it slide.
by the time lewis’ gaze reached his face. charles finally looked at him with his usual dimples there. his eyes though… are very pretty.
pretty cunning, pretty demanding, pretty intoxicating, pretty intrigued, he can list so many of pretty attributes charles leclerc can hold in just one stare.
it makes him shuttered, “i mean how close? is it like…”
like what, lewis? lewis had a colleague, never a friend.
“i don't understand what are you trying to say, lewis.” charles still smiling but now it feels like a pityness.
he wants to wipe those smug dimples. it says; we are close and we are not like what happened to you, lewis.
but of course, charles never said that. it's just a broken record of himself that corrupting his mind for a couple years. they don’t talk about it afterward.
—
charles once asked him between bahrain and saudi. upon the cloud again.
“you rarely fly together before? with george? valtteri?” charles asked with a genuine tone. or that's how lewis thought.
“no, i never. well, with george yes, but he has alex. so not anymore.”
charles hummed and pried his eyes to the windows. “must be hard,” he said after thin silence stretched them apart.
charles continued where lewis least expected him to, “to be in the sport for a long period of time. it must be lonely up there.”
this time, lewis can’t argue that point.
—
“do we need to get you an nda, lewis?”
silvia, maria, no, roberto, hands him a contract paper with terms and conditions written for two pages long.
“why should i?”
the team gives him a secretive smile.
“just for your information, ferrari has many formal events. just call us if you changed your mind”
he don’t call them for a month then on a blue tuesday, the news broke and lewis has been itching to call the number. he dials it.
“you are single now, man?”
“what a surprise call, lewis” that small giggle makes lewis smile. his stomach churned into butterflies.
“yes, yes i am.” charles' voice seems distant. “so they push you to sign the nda?”
how did he know? does the prince of ferrari have that advantage to know what's boiling inside the pot?
lewis just nods to the phone, “yes.”
“and i guess you must be not taking it?”
lewis rolled his eyes for the younger to be able to strike another correct guess, “is becoming a ferrari driver really necessary to have the wags?”
there is a gap between charles’ breathing, “depends. maybe one day you will need it.”
fast forward on thursday, more silly info came out again. friday, carlos sainz breaks up news spread across his met gala group chat. his ex was a model so lewis noticed. he mute the group notification.
move on to saudi then, on saturday, lewis qualified p3. he was more surprised to see the williams parked behind him rather than charles on pole. the 55 accented with blue and the driver is busy congratulating the pole sitter.
lewis watched them walk together. easy banter and laughter alongside max, lando, and george. lewis thought when was the last time he felt young.
“not bad, lewis on red.” someone patted his back. his shoulder relaxed when he saw it was alonso.
“man, this car was on another level to drive.” lewis decided to turn back his heels, facing fernando and fall into his enemy's shoulder. bump it lightly, not fall into him. they are not that, that.
“yeah, it must be hard to tame the horse.”
“but you can.” lewis grins
alonso laughs, “don’t go there, lewis.”
as if they already know, either you burn or burn down with the team. alonso knew it too well.
“don’t let it consume you, lewis. you know how it ends. how my ends.”
lewis opens his palm, fernando traces the line on his palm lightly, like a brush of feathers. there are three lines of fates. the red strings ; alonso, charles, and sebastian.
yeah, no shit. if he has to burn down the team, he won’t be the ashes.
–
p3 is still p3, so nothing worth celebrating. at the end of the race, he was packing things with a hundred thoughts, he called it self-introspection, spiraling on his head. what has gotten him to be like sebastian? going through a long debrief is no joke. he must pay him a visit someday.
lewis spotted charles waiting in between motorhome slots, wearing an oversized hoodie and sunglasses.
lewis thinks about his question back in the cloud. maybe, just maybe, there is nothing wrong with asking him to be his companion. he has a two week gap between next races, maybe a trip to new york would be nice. charles mentions some of his friends in new york (the nahmias? is one of his friend, lewis thinks).
he walks closer and suddenly realizes charles is not alone. there is an arm, a hairy one, circling around his waist. the grip is steady, comforting, and safe. he knows the feeling. it ditched him.
then a full appearance of spaniard broad back’ fill in lewis’ vision. the blue is suddenly too bright for the crimson red around them. it is an anomaly. it is jealousy. really, lewis?
the audible sound of laughter fades away as charles leaned closer to the body and he only can see half of charles’ body parts. both of them walked between motorhomes, disappearing from lewis' eyes.
lewis ends up flying to switzerland.
–
why was he here again?
“ah, lewis!” there is a buzz of honeybee all around him
sebastian vettel still looking fresh, grounded/natural/whatever he is doing in retirement era.
“what do i owe you a visit?” he let lewis inside the home. antics woods, firecracker, minimalist.
“you never once changed the interior?” lewis makes a beeline to the sofa, his self-proclaimed sofa, facing the large patio. the sunset painted over the sky. he sighed into the sofa deeper just like the sun did
“stop with that sulking face. there are still three more races until summer break.” sebastian nudged one of his braid.
“or did ferrari already give you a headache?” he laughed and sat beside lewis.
“about charles.” he shoots straight into the point. because that golden boy, il-predestinato, really occupied his mind and lewis doesn’t know how to get rid of it.
seb makes a surprised sound, “you two don’t get along?”
yes. or no? actually no, they get along too well. but how can lewis see him differently about him when everything feels too familiar. monaco became restless. maranello is small and yet cramped in his heart. words from charles felt like a false-promising rather than a promise.
his actions contradict each other. charles has always been a team player, it turns out it's the team that plays for him. he said he doesn’t drink coffee but always has coffee settled in the cupboard. he loves when his team shirt is tighter on waist and arms but wears oversized hoodie and pants everyday. he said his best friend is pierre but how can carlos’ number be on the emergency contact list?
at least, charles is a true, pure, monegasque. not like this person who admits it but racing under germany flag.
“does he remind you of nico?”
lewis jolted in his seat, “does my face say that much?” he glared at sebastian who rolled his eyes lazily.
“you do, indeed, have subtitles faces,” he pours some tea and offers him a ginger cake, “i understand, he resembles rosberg. kind of…” seb gestures with his hand, “is like, monegasque thing?”
“nico is not monegasque, he is german.” lewis shushed him.
seb chuckled softly, knowing that he is done dealing lewis and nico shits for ten years. lewis is glad and sometimes he wants to ask the same thing he always asks to himself, what will happen if they continue? he didn't dare, because at the end, the phrase of ‘battleship sink beneath the wave’, kind of thing seb will answer him.
“your sentiment towards charles,” seb gaze at him seriously, waking him from daydream, “it’s not just the person right?”
charles, as a person, lewis thought some races went together. nothing weird, nothing fuels the fire. in ferrari, he felt okay rather than anxious or greedy. so, what is it?
a shape of hairy arms and broad shoulders suddenly fill his vision. charles shifts closer to the body that shields him from rain, sun, and people. charles’ green eyes that lit up. charles’ dimples deepened, charles smiles intensify when he see–
“i don't know…” lewis breaks up his train thought, “i just don't know how teammates work in ferrari, okay?”
switzerland is a serene country. with an additional silence from sebastian's house, lewis likely wants to move here.
—
charles gets his win on monaco. lewis watched the podium roar under the shade of charles’ garage. the curse breaker, this scene reminds him of silverstone. a great feeling to win in your home, as multiple winners, he still gets that euphoria. he wishes charles can feels that.
he opens his arm to hug and charles goes pliant against lewis’ latex. “thank you.” he nods to lewis before all the media drags him here and there like a hot pan butter.
not long after the race, lewis showered and packed up to left his motorhome. suddenly, carlos is running towards him. carlos had his big brown eyes, looking like a lost kid, made lewis’ heart wrench, just a bit.
“you good, man?” he ask out of compassion.
“oh hi, lewis” he nods but his eyes scanning the paddock all over the place. “is charles back already?”
lewis gives him a look. why do you still have a thing with charles? he couldn’t shake this possessiveness so he just stares at him without a word. carlos doesn’t even look at him anymore. he starts to open his mouth, but someone calling them, well, calling carlos specifically.
“cahlos!”
the spaniard turned his heel and he immediately knew it was charles. they both ran toward and stopped in each other's embrace. “are you okay? you terrified me,”
lewis had no idea why he is eavesdropping on them but charles’ soft, worried tone is too hard to resist for him to just leave. he sees carlos ruffling charles' back hair.
“just hydraulic issues but all good. congratulations, a second time monaco winner, " carlos let go of the hug, but lewis can see his arms stay on his waist.
lewis should take his leave. but again, another but, the tension and silence between two drivers are so intense. it’s packed with emotion more than the podium.
charles looks at carlos with glistening eyes, “i wish you’re up there with me.” his voice is thick.
carlos cradles him inside his arm gently, softly, almost mistaken by love. ”me too. that day will come. now let’s get back home, shall we?”
the same vision strikes lewis like a lightning. charles shifts closer to the body that shields him from rain, sun, and people. charles’ green eyes that lit up. charles’ dimples deepened, charles' smiles intensified when he see… carlos sainz junior.
–
he remember seb had said something like this;
(“i just don’t know how teammates works in ferrari”
sebastian hum in understanding, “well first of all you must know how to works in ferrari”
lewis laughed at his best friend's answer, “then tell me, as if they didn’t chew you and throw you up”
“ah, that's just part of the consequences.” seb shrug it off lightly,
“what consequences?”
“in order to work with ferrari, you must devoted to the team”
"and if i don’t want to?”
seb pointing his finger to himself, “or like massa”
lewis shakes that idea, “and if i do?”
“you see how charles and carlos together”)
it’s pathetic, lewis thought. to sacrifice yourself to a team or to somebody when you can have it by yourself. prioritizing and loving yourself is the main source of eternal happiness. world changes, so does people, so it wouldn’t be good to be devoted to something that remains unstable.
–
charles claims his win again, this time with carlos on the podium. miracle, is what they said. hardworking is the perfect term lewis assumed. how carlos had a perfect weekend, in quali, in races, with that middle team car, climbing up to podium places. p3 is p3, but this is worth celebrating.
not forget to mention the podium. lewis felt like he was watching a wedding ceremony. he saw two boy hugs several times. sticky skin, champagne problems, happy smile.
“they remind me of us” a voice, honey sweet dew poison, whispered in the back of lewis’ ear.
lewis huffed at this unwelcome presence. “in your dream.” he spats the venom out and takes a brief look at his ex-teammate. nico was sincere when he said it. lewis can tell how his thin lips quirked both sides. how the eyebrows are now relaxed and the line of age appears subtle.
“don’t project your sentiments about us in charles and carlos, lewis. that’s not nice.” nico gave him side eyes.
lewis knows nico right. he hates when nico right and able to read him well after all these years. he hates hates hates him so much that he couldn’t help it to want him back, “how can i not? everything about him reminds me of you.” maybe lewis is the problem here.he just hates to admit that.
nico flatters his eyes, “monegasque thing–”
“you are not a monegasque.” he cuts nico off, “you just like the idea of being it.”
lewis can feel their clothes brushing with each other as they watched carlos and charles disappear between building. it’s electrifying. if this is how charles and carlos felt when they’re this close, maybe…
“they are similar to us, no? you can see it. i think, charles has plenty of time to let you know by yourself." nico nudged him with a new fact.
charles showed him several times what carlos means to him. never direct but charles is easy to read. lewis had seen a different emotion of charles. before he wore red, when his contract was announced, and after he wore this red. charles shifted. more melancholy.
(“are you like that with charles too?”
seb shakes his head, “no. as i said, i do not devoted to ferrari as much as he does.”
“what happened?”
“we fall down, remember? they told us to hold hands.” seb sighed then rested his head on lewis’ shoulder, “when both drivers stirred by the same level of devotion. it worked. ”
seb smiled at him with a knowing look, “charles and carlos, somehow, fell in love in between their journey to ferrari.”)
“no. we are completely different,” lewis held his breath. the sudden pain is unbearable, “they are not ashes to what they burn”
“jeez, so tense already. does being in ferrari pressure you, champ?”
nico was partially right. when he thought he already made peace with himself, charles appearance ignited it back. “shut up.”
they both fell into another silence. until he hears two drivers belong to charles and carlos, goes faintly smooth around him.
“charles, we made it i told you”
“you were up here! with me!”
lewis watched the dialogue shared between them. they’re walking toward ferrari garage. carlos put his arm around charles' shoulder, vice versa. “together or nothing” it’s barely a whisper when charles and carlos passed them. lewis couldn’t help turning his back and watching them slowly disappear in the maze of the motorhome. ferrari’ motorhome.
just right at the first corner of their motorhome, away from camera, charles rested his forehead on carlos’, their nose rubbing against each other sweetly with the smiles burning the whole paddock, so did lewis’ heart.
“once ferrari driver, always a ferrari driver” nico comments on them. more on how carlos just effortlessly went inside a rival motorhome. forgetting that he wears blue, not red, but none of the mechanics comment on them. because once it’s in charles' hands, everything will be important.
(“did they actually fall in love?”
seb laughed at lewis sudden confession, “i’m not sure what you define love is. is it like you and nico? lovers? then it isn’t. ” )
“we are not them and we will never be like them. not in our history can fix this” lewis gritted his teeth.
“not even when i tried to make amends?” nico gazed to the sky, before speaking again, “carlos and i were the same. we left for the person we love.”
lewis shakes his head to argue, “speaks to yourself then.”
he saw how two drivers clench around their hugs. carlos and charles fall in love while they figure out how to love ferrari. nico and him, otherwise, fall in love long before they are lewis hamilton and nico rosberg. they are different in every path of their journey. on the love they crafted. they had different twin flames.
–
“when did you figure out that you and carlos are more than friends?”
lewis asked him in their jet. they are flying together more often after summer break. charles watched him in agape.
“so, you finally noticed?” charles is now has full focus on him. what does he mean finally? is this sort of test? a devotion to ferrari? does charles try to lure him just like carlos did? for him to win the game like that is a testament to his perseverance?
lewis huffed, “yes”
charles rested his back to the chair, “ask your question, then” he took a sip from his tumblr, “what do you want to know about us?”
“when?” lewis doesn't miss a beat, “is it before or when you guys are teammates?”
“does it matter?” charles shots him another question
see? charles already did his contradicting moves again.
“yes, will you stop asking and answer my question?” lewis was eager to know because if it’s before they were teammates, nico was right, somehow it will be a lesson learned for him , if charles and carlos fall in love just like what seb said. then, it was inevitable, it was ferrari’ magic; the prophecy of maranello.
charles smiled at him and continued to speak, “it was after he left. hence, i realized how important he is to me”
lewis' throat went dry. after? it was not ferrari’ doing, then? “i thought…”
charles sighed in defeat, “sebastian must be thinking we’re doing kind of situationship”
“you knew i was talking to seb?”
“oh did you?” charles perks up in curiosity, “i had no idea.” he wears that innocent smile.
damn it, lewis falls into charles trap already. “i.. ugh, it just–”
charles let out his small giggle, “ah sorry-sorry, no more question.” he cleared up his throat, and his green eyes glistening just like how he saw carlos back days,
“there is something about the water in maranello. that’s what people says. at first, i didn’t realize it because his presence felt so competitive to me.” charles has that sincere look, soft features all across his face.
“it was after that i felt empty. his little affection for me, gradually shifting into something i crave. maybe when we were teammates, mainly because he still sulked about how things end or maybe we were scared of the future. maybe i was too scared for him to steal the show,”
“nevertheless, regret is second nature to human. i didn’t hold him as strongly as i could. if i can then he is sitting in front of me rather than you, lewis.” charles giving him a sad smile.
“you chased after him?” lewis thought about all mismatched events and scenarios he made up in his head.
“yes,” charles is playing with his gold jewelry that settles on ring finger. the accented ring is the same as lewis but somehow charles is touching it full of adoration and love.
“and i’m glad he is also close the gap.”
for the first time lewis see charles dimple engraved permanently. his smile is so wide until lewis gnawed at how lucky carlos can have this view on his life.
“do you love him?”
charles tapped his finger against his cheek, “not as much as i love ferrari.” he let a squeak giggle.
lewis let it go because charles always said something opposite. but what lewis had just learned:
it wasn't otherwise. their love settles down slowly as they figure out what each other means. maybe the realization comes after the apocalypse. they didn't fall in love in ferrari, but they love themselves as much as they love ferrari.
carlos left ferrari because he knew what his worth was and what's better for him than ferrari’ offers, and because he loves himself. he loves charles. he knew he couldn’t have both in one place
charles, his love toward ferrari is inevitable, bigger than anything. the main reason why he stays and the only person who understands charles’ obsession while still keeping him in sanity is just carlos.
“carlos!” lewis reaches him to come closer in spa. the spaniard walks like a deer caught in the headlights.
he needs to ask, “what makes you accept charles’ proposal?”
carlos, knowing where this conversation went, gave a thoughtful look. “i love him, simple as that.”
lewis wishes love could be that simple. why can't he have that?
“but you left him. you left ferrari” he hissed but carlos take it easy,
“did i or did they?” he raised his eyebrows in a challenging manner. lewis realized, it was never his doing, but if ferrari had to choose between two of them… okay, it will never be charles, it must be him. his blood stained feathers were the final sacrifice to ferrari. carlos is too kind. he should be furious, angry, for having his dignity crushed down, he should be mad. instead he held his head high, knowing there is no way to deceive his fate.
“don’t blame me for your unlucky fate,man”
“of course, i should blame myself then. for not fighting too much, not born as il-predestinato. you know how that red team works.”
lewis doesn’t understand, “then, why do you love the team and charles when they put you through so much despair?”
carlos gives him a full belly laugh. “ah, cabrõn.” he said, weeping his building tears. he gave lewis a tooth smile. “love and racing. those two can’t be put in the same room, lewis. otherwise you see destruction.”
lewis cuts him, ”but you and charles–”
“i did not fall in love with him when i was in ferrari” he battled his long lashes. carlos then speaks much gently, “it was way before and after that. ferrari just makes us realize what we can have from such a long time.”
—
lewis confessed to him in the city of temptation. it’s funny that he was half drunk half awake inside grand casino to say something like ; “i fall for you, this idea of being ferrari driver is eating me alive and i need you to keep me sane, yada yada–”
not entirely like that but… yeah it makes charles’ releasing his sweet dimple smile that is so intoxicating.
“i’m flattered,” he let out his usual giggle. “to be honest to you, lewis…” he put down his glass.
the bourbon starts kicking and burns his throat down. lewis eyed him nervously.
“you’re kinda, a hopeless romantic type, aren’t you?”
charles then raises his glass again to sip his wine slowly. his movement is smooth like a rehearsed dance. it is flawless and perfect. “i’m not nico, even we are monegasque,” charles raised his eyebrows, “are you sure that i’m the one you are looking for?”
lewis thinks for a bit. about nico and their so called- hopeless romantic- childhood lovers, all about what ifs. his mind wanders to switzerland and talks about devotion.
lewis opens his palm and there are still three lines of red fates, he closes his palm again.
“i want to know how the il-predestinato devours this team.”
lewis put his palm over charles’ back hand, “by what it means, it’s a yes. you are the one i look for.”
charles smiles, wide, dimples there but eyes gone soulless.
“you can try,” he grins. a maniac. “but there is one thing you never can get from me” he then put a step closer. maybe charles will examine the difference between his eyes and carlos’ brown one but forget carlos, he is the one who stands beside him, he is the one with the number 44 alongside the 16, he will be his patriot, comrade, to bring ferrari back to its glory, to take the red team become his.
“i’m determinate enough–”
he cuts off by something wet lands on his lips, almost dangerously shifting into something– charles. is. kissing him. soon he felt his skin buzzing out of control, as charles tilted his chin to look at those green soulless eyes.
“devotion,” he whispered against lewis skin, “you won’t be able to devote the way they devote me.” he stepped back and for eternity lewis could breathe again.
charles stands up nicely, almost politely, “i’d like to see you try. after all, it is always nice to race against the world champion.” he nods in encouragement, voice suddenly lighter than before, masked with politeness and professionalism.
“hopefully, our car is competitive enough. right, fred?” he nudges his boss, lewis doesn't even realize fred is there.
“si, si! good teamwork, good points, let's dance lewis. why so tense?” fred is slurring like a teenager, his arm clung into his shoulder then lewis felt being dragged to the dance floor.
maybe, if the car is working. they can do it. dancing wheel to wheel on the track. after all, they are similar in terms of many. if charles is a snake, then lewis can be an owl. both of them are silent hunters and can move inside and outside the gray zone. their methods are morally questionable, with their political influence, those silver-tongue fights for the battle to win the heart of ferrari.
between sweaty bodies and vague clubbing light, charles stands there, dimpled smile, “have a good night, lewis.”
charles just standing there under the morphine is so fucking pretty.
a pretty deceitful person.