"PIERRE GASLY'S BACK on the podium too for AlphaTauri as he comes home third!" Crofty announces to the viewers of the SkySports broadcast, exhilarated after an exciting Grand Prix in Baku with a noteworthy podium and the championship leaders on the sidelines.
"I called it! I manifested this—podium, baby!" Colette jumped on the French AlphaTauri driver after he clambered out of his seat in the car. The whole garage of the Italian Formula 1 team had run out to parc fermé to congratulate their driver on his excellent result. The mechanics and engineers from the team had filled around the secured area to congratulate their driver, the Monegasque girl blending as she had traded her usual jacket for a white and navy blue shirt, tucking the hem in to make it a cropped top. "Quel bon travail, Pierre !"
"Tu es folle." The Frenchman grinned with squeezed cheeks from within his helmet where his balaclava peaked through.
"Et tu as gagné !" The girl playfully told him off with a tap on his helmet.
"I believe I promised you to properly black out?" Pierre raised an eyebrow before he felt others pulling on his race suit to go weigh himself.
"And I will take you up on that, Gasly." Colette's smile turned smug, pointing at him before he was ushered away.
"Lead the way, my bibulous friend."
— • —
"Pierre, you're too heavy to be carried, no more bullying Yuki for his size." The evening started slow as there were many media duties to fulfil for the F1 drivers before they were able to eat dinner. But after dinner, the group Pierre and Colette were accompanied by quickly moved to an expensive club amidst the capital of Azerbaijan where bottles of Grey Goose and champagne were emptied as quick as they arrived. This may be a reason why around half two Colette decided to drag Pierre back to the hotel; carrying most of his weight on her own shoulders whilst trying to keep her own mind from spinning too much.
"Where is Yukinho?" Pierre slurred, completely disregarding every other word the girl had spoken.
"Somewhere safe in his hotelroom, just as you should be." The girl grumbled as she attempted to remain balanced on her Yves Saint Laurent heels, her own high level of alcohol in her blood not helping her much. "Je te le jure—"
"Working out at this late hour?" Husky. Masculine. Voice—again. Loud footsteps in a slow stride followed the two intoxicated friends down the hall on the umpteenth floor of the hotel. He was quick to accompany by her side, slightly tense but mostly cocky in his walk. Chills shivered down her back as she felt his arm brush against hers every so often, but Colette decided against looking up at his athletic figure.
"The work-out of my life," Colette shook her head, stumbling an extra two or three metres with her best friend's arm over her shoulder to safely bring him to his room. "Mon Dieu il est si lourd."
"Hé !" Said intoxicated best friend responded before falling back into his drunken haze. This is when the Monegasque male took pity on the shorter woman, who was doing a fair job, before taking the burden off of her shoulders—literally. The girl thankfully nodded her head before breathing deeply to catch her breath.
"You did well today, great driving." Colette forced the words out after a minute or two when the silence started to irk her too much.
"Tough battle with this one." Charles gestured to their mutual friend with his head, a few pieces of his hair falling down on his forehead as it lacked the usual amount of product. It appeared he had showered not too long ago as his brunet locks were still slightly damp. Colette swiftly took in his appearance and noticed that he, mostly likely, stayed in that night. He was dressed casually in his joggers and paired it with a fitted, dark shirt—oh and his godforsaken hair so very fluffy and soft.
"And I couldn't be more proud," A smile found its way to Colette's glossed lips as they spoke about Pierre's achievement. "Well, I could. I would have been the proudest if he knew his limit with alcohol, or could at least walk by himself."
"Luckily you can handle your alcohol so well." She could hear the grin as he eloquently spoke, rolling her eyes whilst keeping her face hidden from his captivating eyes. Captivating eyes that would most definitely playfully wink at her if she would simply look over at him.
"I'd say at least better than this," The brunette shook her head in denial as she pointed to Pierre's condition before looking into said captivating, green eyes; so devilish, and so playfully glinting underneath the low hotel lighting. "There was one time when Fabian had to carry me home and that was after I celebrated my eighteenth in Jimmyz."
Charles tilted his head with suspicion, knowing she was most definitely lying, but for once let her have her way. This one time.
Once they neared Pierre's hotel room, and had dealt with the struggle of finding the right keycard, the two Monegasque carefully brought their mutual friend to his bed.
"Pierre, non, vas dormir !" Colette corrected a skirmish Pierre sternly as he did not want to lay still so they could take his shoes off and pull the duvet over his body to tug him in. "Finally," Colette sighed, out of breath after her friend's drunken stubbornness. "Let's go." She nodded her head to the door.
"Want to go somewhere?" The other Monegasque blurted out bluntly before he closed the door behind the two.
"Sure, why not?" The girl pushed a hand through her, now tangled, dark hair before she properly thought his proposal through. Charles quickly reentered the darkened hotelroom and returned with an expensive bottle of Moët & Chandon from a bucket filled with ice.
"What?" He questioned hesitantly once he saw her raise an eyebrow. "You said I drove good today, don't I deserve something?" Charles shrugged timidly as he stepped away from the hotelroom.
"I'm happy you value my praise so badly," Colette shook her head with soft grin, following his lead suit. "But you chose Moët from Pierre's room?" Charles now raised his eyebrows, seeing no reason why he should not have. "Alright, you claimed your prize." She raised her head before continuing walking down the dimly lit hallway.
"You had a different prize in mind?" Charles regained his usual cocky, and arrogant self, the bottle in his hand and a joyful twinkle in his green, piercing eyes.
"That is only for winners." The girl dismissed his suggestive question, playfully tapping his nose once he stood towering over her shorter figure, eyes not daring to look away from one another.
"I've won twice, I think that deserves something." He breathed out, dismissing her.
"Sorry, there is an expiration date."
"Did Pierre get something when he won?"
"Are you jealous, Leclerc?" Colette let a giggle fall from her reddend, glossed lips, attracting his focus to her mouth. "I can't seem to escape you as of late," The girl sighed, swiftly turning her head to check if he was still following her. "I'm starting to think you're doing that on purpose." She leaned against the glass door that let to a terrace on the twentieth floor before pushing it open to the chilly June night of Baku.
"Moi ?" The Monegasque gasped loudly, heat rushing to his cheeks due to his offended reaction he did not smoothly play down.
"You are a terrible liar, Leclerc." She softly laughed as she rolled her eyes.
"When have I ever lied to you? And besides, you would never know." Charles shook his head, lowly exhaling through his nose.
"You clench your jaw and don't dare look me in my eyes." Colette pointed out, grabbing his chin as his eyes had wandered away from hers to look at the view of flickering lights and alluring architecture the city could offer.
"Maybe I don't want to." He shrugged, his pupils failing to focus on the woman standing in front of him, dominant and elegant in her evening wear.
"You'd make a terrible lawyer if that would be your defence statement." She took the luxury champagne from his grasp and leaned against the glass railing before taking small sips from the bubbly, alcoholic liquid.
"Lucky me that I'm a Formula 1 driver." Charles winked with a growing grin on his lips.
"Arrogant F1-driver." They add in sync, dumb smiles mirroring each other due to their reference to that evening in Monaco. Said arrogant F1-driver found his way to her side, leaning on the balustrade and slowly took the bottle from her lips.
"You're starting to learn." She whispered, eyes joyfully sparkling underneath the lights of stars and the moon.
"And you're still not staying away," Charles shook his head, looking down at her dark, almond shaped eyes. Even if he wanted, he could never not want to look into her eyes; the vulnerability both thrilling and exciting. It is no surprise he would look at her, but for her to look his way always felt as an accomplishment; she looked at him. "Are you drunk, Colette?"
"Not more than usual." The girl shrugged.
"That so?" Charles raised his eyebrows as he attentively let his hands drop to her waist, looking for any signs of discomfort to his soft touch. Colette murmured a soft 'yes' in the meantime, but was surprised once she realised she had been craving the physical contact of his body. "Then I'm starting to think that you enjoy my presence."
"You think so?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, a daring look on her face as she felt his fingers slowly trailing along her waist.
"I know so," Charles nodded, slowly grazing with the knuckles of his other hand over her cheekbones. "Do you think I can kiss you?"
"Please shut your mouth before you ruin this." Colette hummed before she placed her hands at the back of his neck and pulled his handsome face down.