Racing hearts / formula 1 💕

🚐

The moment they stepped onto the small jet, Sofia was already leaning into Charles' side, her cheek against his hoodie, eyelids drooping from the post-race exhaustion.

Carlos flopped into his seat across from them with a dramatic groan.
"Finally. Home," he announced, shutting his eyes.

The plane rumbled, took off... and barely twenty minutes later, the pilot's voice crackled in.

"Uh- Mr. Leclerc? Mr. Sainz? Just letting you know... the weather in Nice has turned very bad. Thunderstorms, crosswinds... landing might not be possible."

Sofia slowly blinked awake.
"...did he just say might?" she whispered.

Charles rubbed her arm. "It's okay, amour. It might clear."

Carlos sat up so fast his seatbelt squeaked.
"No. Nope. Absolutely not," he said, shaking his head. "We are not attempting that. Tell him divert. NOW."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Carlitos, maybe we wait five minutes. It could-"

"No," Carlos said immediately, already unbuckling like he was about to go storm the cockpit. "We are landing in Italy. I am not dying today. You two want to die? Go ahead. I want to live."

Sofia snorted softly. "He sounds like he's fighting for custody of his life."

Charles sighed, laughing despite himself. "Fine. We divert to Italy."

"Good choice," Carlos nodded firmly. "I'll drive us home. Quicker, safer, no turbulence, no problems."

Sofia mumbled, "You do know Monaco isn't like... twenty minutes away, right?"

Carlos ignored her, proudly folding his arms.

⸻

Landing in Italy - The Regret Begins

The moment they stepped off the plane, the wind nearly blew Charles' hat off and rain splattered their faces. Carlos marched inside confidently.

"We get a rental, we drive home. Easy."

Twenty minutes later the rental guy pointed at their options.

"Everything else is booked because of the weather. We only have... this."

They turned.

A silver mini-van. Clean, modern, but still unmistakably... a van.

Charles stared at Carlos with dead eyes.
"This. This is your 'quicker option.'"

Carlos shrugged. "It has wheels. It drives."

Sofia, exhausted and clutching Charles' hoodie sleeve, muttered,
"Please just pick one before I fall asleep on this man's suitcase."

Charles ran a hand down his face.
"Okay. Fine. The van."

Carlos beamed like he'd won a prize.
"YES. Road trip!"

"It is not a road trip, it is survival," Charles muttered.

⸻

Inside the Van

Carlos immediately claimed the driver's seat and adjusted everything like it was a Ferrari.

Charles got in passenger, sighing dramatically.

Sofia slid into the middle row, curling up sideways with her blanket.
"This is so... glamorous," she said dryly.

"We're making memories, amour," Charles reassured, turning to stroke her hair.

"I want to make memories in a bed, Charles."

He laughed. "Soon."

Carlos started the engine with way too much enthusiasm.