Charlos || Charles Leclerc x Carlos Sainz Jr.

Monza

(Montha)

The new yellow race suit was very yellow and looked like banana. Yellow is not a flattering color on anyone, and my new bitch ass principle only wears yellow, and I hate her. She got rid of our vending machine and wants us to stay at school during lunch. She can suck my dick.

Anyway, Charles didn't get the memo about yellow, and thought Carlos looked good. He was objectively correct about the black fireproofs, though, which complimented Carlos's dark hair and eyes perfectly. If he couldn't keep his eyes off him as he walked around the paddock with the race suit at his waist, well, that was his own business.

Nearing the end of the day, Charles found Carlos standing alone. He walked over as casually as he could manage, trying to calm his racing heart. Glancing around one last time to make sure they were alone, he asked, "Wanna go out to dinner?"

Carlos's eyes went wide, but just as soon his expression turned sunny. "I'd love to."

"I'll pick you up at eight?"

"Perfect," Carlos replied, a wistful smile on his lips. He was left with a warm fuzzy feeling when Charles walked away. A small kernel of doubt passed through him, worried about canceled plans, but it was quickly replaced by a childlike glee. Charles had asked him out. He was initiating, and that was undeniably a step in the right direction. Things were going to be okay.

🏎 🏎 🏎

Charles knocked on Carlos's door at exactly 20:00. The door swung open to reveal Carlos, wearing a slightly unbuttoned dress shirt and still affixing a watch to his left wrist. He was struggling a bit with the clasp, and Charles reached forward to help, fixing the band without any trouble.

Carlos finally looked up at Charles and smiled softly. "Thanks." Charles looked his boyfriend up and down appreciatively. His hair was styled voluminously as ever, and he wore beige trousers and a white shirt rolled up above his elbows. Charles never considered himself to be a forearms man, but damn.

Carlos knew how to dress himself, unlike Charles, who was currently wearing horrible outfit #2. He had opted for skinny black jeans and a green v neck shirt. Over top he layered a bright Hawaiian shirt with a red and orange surfing scene.

Carlos looked him up and down and immediately burst out laughing. "My Gus clothing is a thousand times better than whatever –that– is," he said, gesturing to Charles's outfit.

Charles was actually offended by that, but before he could reply, Carlos continued. "I love that you take fashion risks, querido, but this was one better not taken."

Charles frowned and bowed his head. He grumbled something indistinctly. "I'm sorry," Carlos quickly amended, "I mean you still look good. You're beautiful no matter what you're wearing."

Charles looked up at him skeptically. "Do you really mean that?"

"Yes! You could wear a trashbag and still look good."

Charles brightened at that, but glancing in the mirror behind Carlos, he finally acknowledged that his fit was not fire. He looked sheepishly back at Carlos. "Do you have a shirt I can borrow? I don't think I can go out like this any more."

"You sure? I meant what I said." Charles nodded quickly, and Charles rummaged around the room. He held up an oversized "I ❤️ MILFS" shirt, chuckling.

Charles laughed. "Yes! I'll take it!"

Carlos was sure he was joking, but asked anyway. "Really? This is... worse... than what you're already wearing."