La dernière danse

Where looks are shared

 "She's up." Two heads turn my way. "Hello sleepyhead, slept well?" Arthur smiles at my still sleepy being. "Mhm. Jet lags suck. Especially if they catch up with you a day later." He nods in agreement and understanding. "Fair point." I move my head a bit so I'm comfortable again. Not really caring I'm laying in Charles' lap, well my pillow is, so by extent I am too. "What's going on?" I ask, only now fully opening my eyes. "You don't want to know." Charles answers, moving his hand through his hair in annoyance. "Try me." He sighs deeply. "Someone was feeling funny and shared our hotel online." I furrow my brows. Yeah that sucks, but this isn't the first time shit like this happened. "They shared your room number too. And mine, Arthur, Carlos, Pierre and Lando's room numbers too. In conclusion, there is no chance we can get back in there anytime soon." Arthur summons after seeing my confused face. "Well shit." I mumble while sitting up to rest my head against Charles' shoulder. "Indeed shit. Anyway, nothing we can change about it."

 The eldest Monegasque places his head on mine. "What time is it? I have no perception of time anymore." Arthur moves his wrist to look on his watch. "Quarter past four." So I slept for a solid hour and a half. "You stayed here the whole time?" I ask the man whose head leans on mine. He shrugs. "I had some mails to look over anyway. Plus Andrea and I went over my trainings too, don't worry. You didn't waste any of my very incredibly precious time ma belle." That kind of calmed me down. "Alright then. How did free practice go?" I directed my question at Pierre and Arthur this time. The latter racing for prema in F2 this weekend. "Quite good actually, no engine problems or anything, quali should go trouble-free." The Monegasque assures me before turning to the Frenchman. "A few engine difficulties here and there, but those are Camelia's problems. Not mine." I grin at the name. "I'd tell you to give her hell, but alpha tauri isn't going to like that." 

As soon as I finished my sentence, the door opens, showing Kika Gomes. I jump up, run her way and tackle her in a hug. "What? How? Pierre said you'd be arriving Sunday??" So either Pierre lied to me, which is very possible, or she lied to Pierre, which, again, is very possible too. "Yeah, I told him I'd arrive Sunday but my schedule changed last-minute sooo here I am." She smiles in the embrace before I let her go. "Hello mon amour." If you didn't know yet, Pierre finally grew the balls to ask her out a few months back. They finally made it official around New Years,  deciding to keep it a secret from the public for the sake of their privacy. She moves to sit on his lap after greeting Charles and Arthur as Pierre locks his arms around her. 

"So tell me, what's new?" I completely miss the look Arthur gives his brother at the loving action of Pierre. "Oh you are in for a hell of a ride missy." As I get into detail about my breakup with Oliver, I can't help but feel comfortable and safe. My head is laying against Charles' chest with my legs covered by the blanket that was stored in one of the little cabinets earlier today.

"He showed up at your doorstep?? Shut up!" Kika's mouth is hanging wide open. I nod. "He did. He was all red in his face, yelling at me that I was a bitch and everything, that I better not tell anyone what he'd done and he would get his revenge on me. Why, I don't know." The arms around me tighten a bit, as if to make sure I'm still safe and sound with them in the room. "What an ass. But that wasn't the only time, right?" Kika is now sitting across from me in a similar position with Pierre. I shake my head. "Nope." Pierre's eyes narrow at my words. "What do you mean 'nope'?"

 Right.. This is new information to both him and Charles, the latter not very happy with the news either. "It's no big deal, really. It's just that he's been tipping paparazzi off  the last few days I was in the US because he still had access to our shared agenda. Don't worry, I cut it off as soon as I found out and he hasn't really tried anything ever since. Well, save for the interviews and online comments at least." Pierre is annoyedly connecting the dots. "So that's why the airport was swarmed with paparazzi when I came to pick you up when you landed in Milan?" I nod again. "Same thing happened when I boarded in Washington, paparazzi everywhere. It was a nightmare." I shudder at the thought. Being hemmed by cameras and yelling people isn't exactly pleasant. "Anyway, nothing he can do anymore." I shrug the unpleasant feeling off, sending a small smile to Pierre and Kika to ensure them I'm okay. However the former isn't having it. "If I see him even remotely close to you at any race I swear I'm fucking him up." I slightly smile at his overprotectiveness. "Alright tough guy, we know you mean well but I think Bo is more than capable of handling her own shit. She'll ask for help when she needs it."  

Thank god for Francisca Cerqueira Gomes.

We catch up for a while longer. Well, Kika and I for the most part, Charles and Pierre started their own conversation halfway. Remarkable how they both listen interested when we reach gossip, and simply give up when we move to any other subject though. Our gossip session gets interrupted by a few knocks on the door. "Charles, it's media time. And Pierre, since you are here too, you can tag along. Your PR manager was looking for you either way." Silvia appears in the doorway before leaving us again. "Wanna tag along ladies?" Charles groans when his PR manager is gone again, causing me to chuckle at his obvious irritation towards media events in general. "How about this, we will accompany the two of you to the media room and sit somewhere in the back to see you squirm under their burning questions." I offer the drivers duo. "Are you laughing at our misery, Bo Wolff?" The Monegasque lifts me up in order for him to get up too, before putting me on my feet again, hands not leaving my waist. "Yes I am. And don't even think about tickling me Leclerc. I will share your baby pictures." I threaten him, knowing that if I didn't, I'd feel his wrath in the form of death by tickles. Something I don't really fancy. 

"I happen to be a very cute baby, ma belle, so I fear your threat is empty." He mumbles very closely to my ear. "The karting pictures, yes, but the video where you attempt to be a ballerina and straight up fall on your face? Less cute." I can't see his face, but I'm pretty sure his mouth is wide open. "You, Bo Wolff, are evil." He pokes my side either way. "Thin ice Leclerc. Thin ice." I smile while taking his hands captive to prevent him from poking my sides again. 

Once again missing a knowing look, this time shared between Pierre and Kika.