hitched•cl•

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"And she didn't mention that they were having problems?" Charles asked as Presley rolled over so that her head was resting on the crook of his shoulder. His hand grazed up and down her arm soothingly. "Just so weird." He commented

Presley raised a hand to her lip, feeling the spot where Charles had aggressively chewed on her lip last night after what they considered to be their first fight. It was draining, and in the end, there were no winners, well, not in the argument anyway.

She sighed, "Leclerc, I already told you no." Her face tipped to look up at her confused husband. "And Milo didn't say anything to you either?" Presley pointed out. Her tone was laced with tiredness, but there was still a defensive bite.

Even though he wouldn't admit it, Charles was hurt that Milo hadn't even thought to mention that he was thinking of breaking up with Juno. He felt that they were close enough to be able to share things like this - after all, the Brit was his best man.

"They just seemed so happy together." Charles hummed as he pulled his wife further into his arms. Her chin rested on his chest, and he wasted no time running his fingers through her chestnut brown hair.

Charles remembered the first time Milo had told him about Juno and how much he loved her chaotic energy. They were always trying to outdo each other, but they never seemed to care who won; it was the spirit of the competition they loved. However, Charles had always found it peculiar that the Brit had never once said he loved Juno. It was always, 'I enjoy her company,' or 'We are having fun,'.

"Sometimes people just don't work out, and I don't think there is anything you can do about it," Presley suggested. Charles didn't like her words. He had always been somewhat of a hopeless romantic, but it was not simple in a society of dating apps and one-night stands.

Charles shook his head, "I just had to meet you that one time, and I knew that you were the girl for me." He enthused whilst smiling at the girl resting on his chest. "And I don't care what crazy ex I have to deal with; I want this to work." He remarked.

There was a lot of truth to his words. Charles wanted this to work, but he couldn't help but wonder who Jaspar had been referring to in all his messages. Charles knew that Presley had had a past, but so did everyone. Everyone has baggage, but it's about the willingness to unpack it with someone, and Charles wanted to be that person for Presley. If only she would let him.

"What did you do last year for New Year?" Charles randomly asked, although ever since Jaspar had mentioned it, he wanted to know exactly what reaction he might get from his wife.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Presley because he did, at least he thought he did, but there was this feeling that he couldn't shake. Charles wasn't exactly sure what it was, but he knew Presley was holding back from him. She would go from being attentive to distant in the snap of a finger, and there were only so many times she could make the excuse that she got distracted.

A rush of panic came over Presley, followed by confusion. She furrowed her brow, "I was in New York; why?" This wasn't a lie, she was in New York City, but that wasn't exactly answering his question. Her husband wanted to know what she was doing, not where she was. Presley just hoped that this was sufficient.

He shrugged his shoulders. "No reason."

If the words New Year's were meant to reveal a hidden secret or emotion, then Charles had no idea what he was looking for; if anything, Presley was puzzled at the question.

"What did you do for New Year?" She asked as she pressed her lips against his collarbone. "To be honest, I really hate New Year; it seems so much of a pointless holiday."

Charles nodded in agreement; he also disliked the festivities of the New Year's, Christmas he loved because it was a time for family and tradition, but New Year's not so much. In the eyes of Charles Leclerc, saying goodbye to a year and promising to change for the next was ridiculous.

"I think I was with my brothers." He replied, a little unsure if this was accurate. All he remembered was being blackout drunk and calling Pierre. "You'll have to meet them soon,"

They had been married a month, and Presley had yet to meet his family. It wasn't on purpose, but it saddened Charles that she hadn't asked to meet them, and when he suggested that they get dinner altogether, his wife didn't seem taken with it. That same evening she went out with Juno and got champagne drunk. At least they came up with a concept for their next fashion week.

Charles knew that this would be the moment Presley decided that they should get out of bed, and as if on cue, she rolled out of his embrace and shuffled to sit on the edge of the bed. Presley picked up her phone.

"Fuck, it's quarter-past-twelve, Leclerc." Presley gasped; she briefly looked back to the man who had let out a sigh of disappointment. He was enjoying the tender moments with his wife. "You know, you should take Milo out, call Lewis and have a boys' night. He'd like that."

The Ferrari driver screwed his face, but luckily his wife's back was to him. "You know what I'd like?" He pouted as Presley leaned down to pick up his red and black checked shirt that Charles had flung onto the floor in the heat of passion following their argument. She faced him as she buttoned up the shirt, exposing her collarbone as she pushed the collar off her shoulder.

"And what's that?" Presley replied with a smirk.

She knew what he was going to say, but she couldn't decide how she would react yet. There was a growing feeling of attachment towards the Monegasque, she loved how he would rub his thumb into her palm when he held her hand or the way he instinctively played with her hair, but most of all, she was growing to need his affection. However, based on previous experience, she knew it was a dangerous game to need someone, to need anything.

"I'd like you to get back in bed so we can continue what we started last night." He smirked and crawled his body across his bed so that he could grip the back of her legs. "Because I think we have a few more apologies to get through."

A smirk curled on her lips; Presley definitely wanted that too. There was something in the way that the moment the passion had switched from fire to love, Charles had switched from reacting to Presley to proactively finding her sweet spots. It was a side to Charles that she found enigmatic and addictive.

"See, I thought we could take this to the shower?" Presley purred as she drew her index finger across her husbands' jawline. He looked up at her; passion pearled into his blue eyes. "Oh, you are naughty; I think that would be a great idea, Mon trésor."

What did he think? What did Charles think? He definitely didn't think that his pouting would work, but yet again, he had proven that if he really wanted something, Presley was going to oblige.

At least she was going to, but then her phone bleeped twice, and the colour drained from her face. Her hand trembled, and her lip quivered. "On second thought, I have to go do something." Presley pushed. "I'm sorry, I love you."

That was the first time the words 'I love you had been uttered out of the pretty Brunette's mouth, and Charles eagerly awaited hearing them. However, something told him that this wasn't the declaration of love he had hoped for.

He threw himself back in his bed in frustration; ugghhhhhh, what was he going to do now. This felt eerily like the moment he and Presley had woken up in Vegas that morning, the look of panic on her face as she darted from the bed they had been sharing. And like that morning, when Presley had left, he messaged the boys.

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A/N

just a little bit of a filler chapter after the recent bombshells!
Ugh Charles just loves her... but is he in over his head?