DUTCH GRAND PRIX
QUALIFYING DAY
"Ladies and gentlemen, here at the Zandvoort Circuit, the rain has cast what promises to be a riveting F1 qualifying session for the Netherlands Grand Prix. As of now, Max Verstappen has yet to make his appearance, leaving fans eager for the local hero's arrival," said the main Sky Sports reporter.
The absence of Verstappen and the readiness of the Ferrari duo added a layer of intrigue to the unfolding narrative, inside the Ferrari paddock as the strategy for the qualifying session was revised, Carlos did not spare glances at Charles, who sat beside him.
"What are your plans for tonight?" Carlos asked him as they made their way to the pits.
"Nothing, just going to stay back at the hotel and rest up for tomorrow," Charles kept his answer to Carlos short and sweet, his eyes not meeting the brown ones and instead scanning the rainy scene in front of them, waiting for any signs of Max. It was an unusual scene to be this close to qualifying and not have the Dutch driver ready to go, even more so now that it was his homeland.
"We should have dinner together," Carlos commented, his eyes fixating on Charles' body while the boy was distracted. The Spanish driver was already hungry for his younger teammate, lacking any subtlety in glancing him over. His girlfriend had not accompanied him, and Lando, for some reason, was not in the mood for some fun these days. So, having Charles to keep him company was something Carlos wanted to get around to as soon as possible.
Charles didn't have the mindset to keep humoring the conversation, his mind already being split between the strategies he'd double-checked moments ago and Max's absence. The Ferrari driver had promised himself to push away all emotions and keep his eyes on the prize, but he was quickly realizing that it wasn't a quality one develops overnight.
"Maybe," Charles answered, always avoiding being rude even when he knew what he wanted his real answers to be, "depending on how today goes." With that being said, Charles offered his teammate a polite smile before walking away towards his car.
The boy situated himself into his car sooner than most, wanting to get a proper feel of it and focus all his energies into ensuring there was not a single fault. Since the loss of their strategist, the car had been having a smoother run, and Charles knew that it had the potential to battle a Red bull if it came down to it. The car wasn't the problem this time around; it was the man inside the other one that created the biggest challenge.
"All set, Charles?" he was asked, to which he nodded, accepting his helmet and securing it in place before doing the same to his steering wheel.
"Is Max here yet?" he asked, worried as he was moments away from the thumbs up to hit the track.
"Unsure. Will call it out to you in a moment," was the response he received.
Five minutes before the qualifying session began, whispers of Max Verstappen's presence echoed through the Ferrari paddock. The once serene and anxious atmosphere of the circuit transformed into a lively spectacle, with chants and screams erupting from the thrilled crowd. Their hero had come, after all.
Max, stoic and composed, revealed little emotion. His focus consumed him as he quickly readied himself for the qualifying session. Despite being the last to arrive, he emerged as the first to hit the track, like a racing machine perfectly crafted to race. No problems could seem to shake him.
On track, like always, Max did one perfect lap after the other. His teammate was no match for him, barely making it past Q2 and being eliminated after that. By the end of qualifying it was only up to him and his two other contestants for pole — Charles and Carlos.
When the timer finally clocked down, Max was informed that he had placed P2. The weight of expectations pressed heavily upon him when he learned of the result through the radio. The pressure from his devoted fans, the pride of his nation, and, perhaps most significantly, the expectations of his father, all descended upon him in that moment of realization. He wasn't first.
Upon parking his car, Max pushed himself out of the cockpit, moving out to greet a few of his team members with less enthusiasm than usual. There he didn't see his father.
"Guys, this isn't the race," Charles gently reminded his enthusiastic crew. Despite their awareness, the unexpected stroke of luck had caught them off guard. Ruffling his hair, they expressed their pride in their "golden boy," urging him to savor the achievement. Charles, aware that pole position wasn't a guarantee of victory, acknowledged the looming competition from Max. The collective optimism, however, fueled a determination to give their best in the upcoming race. It was the front row for Ferrari, and the sea of red radiated nothing but smiles.
"Great job," Carlos said, being one of the many people to take Charles into a hug, his hand lingering on his waist even as he pulled away from the boy. "You said yes to dinner depending on the outcome, let me take you out as a congratulations," he said, waiting for an answer but not receiving one before he was pulled away, interviewers lining up with questions for the drivers.
Upon finally crossing paths with Charles as he removed his helmet and gloves. Max surrendered himself to his momentary defeat. "Great job out there."
At the sound of the all-too-familiar voice, Charles looked up and locked eyes with the deep blue gaze that revealed a hint of disappointment. Yet, he felt a spark within him, recognizing that Max was still extending kindness. "Thank you, you too," he said, fully aware that anything less than first place would never meet Max's high standards.
Stopping himself from asking the Red bull driver for his plans afterwards, remembering that he'd burnt that bridge down by confessing to him, Charles simply gave him a nod and followed after him to the lineup of interviewers, silently missing the dynamic he'd ruined.
"I almost went out on turn five," Max commented to the Ferrari driver, breaking the clear tension in between the two.
"Did you?" Charles asked in surprise, effortlessly slipping into a conversation with Max. He had feared that ending the night on top would further strain their relationship, but there were no signs of animosity from the other man. This filled him with a sense of relief.
"Apparently Logan Sergent did go a bit off on that same curve though, almost crashed," The blond started to explain, using his hands to show how far Williams had gone off track. "I think he only tapped the wall though, or else we'd have had a yellow flag."
"It was a tricky one!" Charles continued, paying close attention to every word that Max spoke, watching his hand gestures and being unable to stop himself from finding them endearing. He has been around Max his entire life and even now that the entire world knew of his habits, Charles still felt as if he had an understanding of the blond that others didn't possess.
"It was on my third time around that I felt the wheel shake a bit, and if my grip hadn't been there it would have been me against that wall," Charles offered commentary on his own experience and walked closely alongside Max up until he was next to be interviewed.
Once Max was gone, Charles waited patiently for his own turn and kept his attention fixated on the Dutch as he vaguely overheard a couple of his answers, wanting the media part of the night to be over and go back to his conversation.
"I didn't get a chance to catch your answer," Carlos said to Charles, standing directly in front of him and blocking all views of Max, which forced him to pay attention to the topic at hand.
"Thank you, I really appreciate it but I think I am going to have to take a raincheck. I just want to get back and sleep so that I am fully alert tomorrow," he spoke softly and subtly repositioned himself to where he could once again get a view of the blonde— telling himself that it was only to know when his turn was next.
After his own interview, Charles thanked the press for all their congratulations and noticed a lack of good luck being thrown his way, the Dutch audience clearly having a favorite in mind. The Ferrari driver didn't mind it as he'd shown the same favoritism to the blond and would be a hypocrite to say otherwise.
Back at the hotel, Charles couldn't wait to jump into bed but first he needed to wash off the grime of the day, unable to feel comfortable until all the sweat was off his body and he no longer had any remnants of the track smell on him.
Setting up his computer on the table, the driver ran through a couple of the team strategies, adding in a couple edits and redirecting his track line to align better with the rainy conditions that tomorrow promised. Deep in thought, the boy didn't register the initial knock on his door and only snapped out of his own thoughts when the knock came in louder.
Checking the peephole for safety reasons, Charles was met with his Spaniard teammate who appeared to be holding takeout bags. With confusion, he opened the door and was too stunned to say anything as Carlos welcomed himself inside, dropping the bags onto the table and causing Charles to rush over and remove his laptop before it could get crushed underneath.
"What's going on?" he asked, getting a sense of whiplash from all the sudden motions.
"You wanted to stay inside but I wanted to get you dinner," Carlos responded as if it happened to be the most obvious thing in the world.
The boy had declined his teammate's invitation and thought he had been as clear as possible but with Carlos it was sometimes like he lacked the ability to fully comprehend what was being said to him, or choose not to.
Charles, with his inability to be rude, took a seat and watched as the man set out the array of food out in front of them consisting of hamburgers and miscellaneous snacks. "Thank you, this was really nice of you but you didn't have to," the younger driver stammered out, knowing that the easiest way to go back to his alone time would be to entertain Carlos' dinner plan and get it done as soon as possible.
"It was no problem, as soon as you said you wanted to stay here it was like I could read your mind," he exclaimed confidently, being as far from the truth as possible. "Besides, you are the champion of the night, being alone here is too depressing. It's always better to have some good company," he said with a wink and brought his seat closer to the younger boy.
Taking a bite from his food, Charles nodded and gave the man a thumbs up, before swallowing. "It's really good," he said and kept reinstating it every time the man looked at him expectantly.
Conversations with Carlos were nothing revolutionary but they managed to have a couple of good laughs in between bites, mostly on the other man's end. Once dinner had been finished, the shorter man was quick to throw the trash into the bin hinting that it was time for his teammate to leave by saying how tired he felt after all of that and even giving a little yawn to sell his point.
Indirects never worked, however, and the taller man was soon standing in front of Charles, ruffling his hair and smiling down at him. "You know, after a good meal, I don't mind a good workout," he mentioned, his hand trailing down to Charles' arm and giving it a squeeze as if he was checking the tone of them.
"Haha yeah, I'm just too tired for the gym after all that," Charles countered back and shook his head, "maybe next time," he added, giving him a small smile which gave Carlos the opportunity to poke at one of his dimples; the touchiness being a little much but Charles was excusing it to him being proud of the job they'd done tonight.
"There are some other ways to work out," the man said, his eyes fixed on Charles's mouth as he closed some of the space between their bodies, "do you want me to teach you?" he asked, the seduction dripping from his voice and bringing his face closer as he waited for the boy's answer.
Unsure of what was going on, Charles could not be any more thrown off and quickly took a step back, pretending he needed to grab his phone to check the time. "Actually it's pretty late, maybe you can send me the exercises and I'll practice them some other time?" he suggested, making his way to the door and opening it up for him.
Carlos frowned, stepping away from the brunette, reestablishing the distance between them. "Ok, you're the boss, see you tomorrow!" he replied, deciding to not insist on his approach. "Let's hang out again after the race!"
RACE DAY
On the race day in the Netherlands, the air crackled with electric excitement as Max Verstappen's devoted fans flooded the surroundings. As the drivers embarked on the parade together on one of the trucks, the sea of orange-clad supporters roared with unbridled enthusiasm, creating a pulsating atmosphere. Each step of the parade resonated with the anticipation of witnessing their racing hero in action, and Max fed into it by waving at the crowds with a big smile on his face.
On the parade truck, drivers paired off for casual conversations. Pierre Gasly reached out to Charles to catch up on the race weekend, Oscar was approached by Logan Sergent for casual chatter, and Lando was engaged by Carlos.
"Yesterday I went to try and see if Charles wanted to sleep with me," Carlos commented quietly, covering his mouth to avoid possible attempts at lip reading from cameras.
"Oh yeah?" Lando crossed his arms, the immediate annoyance and sarcasm in his voice taking over his demeanor.
"Yeah... but it didn't go as I wanted it to, I think he's shy," Carlos pointed out.
Lando frowned, as if to say, how did he have the audacity to tell me this?
"Should I just be more obvious? I think he didn't get it," Carlos said, looking past Lando, his gaze landing on Charles at the end of the truck.
Lando was fuming, but even then, Carlos didn't seem to realize the reality of the situation. "Why don't you ask Max?" Lando suddenly snapped, a mastermind plan to make Carlos regret his decisions coming into play. "I'm sure he'll know."
Lando knew the kind of person Max was. Max could be ruthless; his car was like an extension of his body. A mastermind on the track, Max's prowess was undeniable. And most of all, Max's liking for Charles Leclerc was equally obvious. Knowing this, Lando directed Carlos towards Max–akin to sending him into the mouth of the wolves, or more fittingly, the lion's den.
"Max!" Carlos approached the Dutch driver, tapping his back in a friendly manner.
"Hey," Max answered, leaning against the railing of the truck.
"So, Lando told me that you and Charles do it sometimes, you know?" Carlos mumbled.
In response, Max's bright smile quickly faded away as his eyes went from the adoring crowds that surrounded them to focus on Carlos, like predator hunting prey.
"What?" Max blinked his eyes in disbelief, his lips curling up with a sense of mockery in the tone of his voice as he began to consider he had simply misinterpreted the other man's questions.
"Ok, so how did you do it?" Carlos asked.
Max stared at him, biting down onto his lip in annoyance, trying to hold himself from snapping back at him whilst hoping Carlos didn't have anything more to say about the subject. However, Carlos wasn't really good at picking up subtle social cues.
"Yesterday I tried to do it, but he didn't really want to, I think he is too shy," Carlos said, pouting at the thought of it, as if that would convince Max to give him some tips.
On the contrary, Max was infuriated. His eyebrows sunk into his eyes, firmly focusing on Carlos. It seemed like at any given moment the Red bull driver would start throwing punches in the middle of the drivers parade, there was a limit to how much he could control himself. To Carlos's luck, Lando came to his rescue before the conversation, or monologue, could continue any further.
"Wow! What are you guys talking about?" He laughed nervously, fitting himself in between the two drivers.
"I was just asking him if he had any tips," Carlos pointed to Max, who still seemed frozen in place, his gaze finally diverting away from the two with the mediating presence of Lando.
"Haha! Wouldn't you like to know!" Lando laughed, trying to make light of the conversation. "Come!" He deviated, dragging Carlos away to the other side of the truck.
"What?" Carlos asked, confused. "I didn't get his answer."
"Fuck, Carlos, fuck." Lando furrowed his eyebrows, looking back at Max as he watched the driver turn around to face the crowds again.
"What?" Carlos continued.
"You're so fucked," Lando pointed out, looking back at the taller man. "If you had one ounce of brain cells, you'd know what!" He whispered to him, looking back at Max again. "They aren't just... fucking... what Max thinks is his, he doesn't like to share. And you just confessed to attempting to take something, someone, away from him."
"What do you mean? He owns exclusivity to sleep with Charles?" Carlos chuckled at the absurdity of it.
"Worse," Lando answered, noticing that the gaze of Max now fell directly across the end of the truck, on Charles Leclerc. "He has feelings for him."