La dernière danse

Where looks are shared

I enter the Ferrari garage to be met with a sweaty but happy Charles Leclerc. "Someone watched free practice." He smiles when he notices me. "Actually, Pierre and I were doing a track walk but then he remembered he was up for free practice when you drove inside the garage so I was pretty much just left here." I tease the Monegasque a bit. Of course he knows we were watching for a bit, he probably noticed us at the entrance of the Ferrari garage. "Where is Chili?" I ask, not finding the Spaniard in the garage. "Isa came to drop something off. I think they went to get lunch or something after?" Isa is Carlos' ex. They separated as friends after three years together because it was getting too hectic to combine everything and the spark disappeared.

Charles moves a hand through his messy hair, trying to tidy it up a bit, which doesn't work at all. "You're making it worse." I chuckle at his attempts. "Stop laughing Wolff." The look on his face makes it even harder not to burst out in laughter, which I eventually fail at. "Shouldn't you go and change? You're all sweaty and you stink." I decide to bully him a little more, which I probably shouldn't have done when I notice the devious look in his eyes. "Well in that case.." Before I even get the chance to run I feel two arms caging me, squishing me. "Ew no Charles you smell!" I try squirming my way out his arms but it's useless. "Tough luck ma belle." He doesn't let go, of course he doesn't. It's Charles. "Charles, put the poor girl down." A voice from the other side of the garage sounds.

 "Thank you Andrea! Leclerc listen to your trainer." I tell him, suddenly very thankful for the existence of personal trainers. "Don't think I will actually. Sorry Andrea." He puts his hands on my upper legs to lock them on his hips and carries me towards the drivers room. "What do we think we're doing mister Leclerc?" I can't help teasing the man, it's too easy. "Paparazzi and fans miss Wolff, if we stayed there one more minute the tabloids would've had a field day writing about our 'hidden romance'." My face scrunches at the thought. "Am I that bad of an option as a boyfriend ma belle?" He laughs at my facial expression. "Not sure. I just don't enjoy media rumors very much. Especially with Oliver coming here.." Charles drops me on his couch bed thing. 

"What do you mean Oliver coming here?" Charles' tone changes rapidly. Where he was playful before, he's all serious and concerned. Everyone on the grid knows about Oliver. Well, it's hard not to, seeing as he sent pretty much all of them a threat to not talk to me when we were still together. After that it just went downhill if we're being fair. "Yeah, apparently there is this new engineer at Alpha Tauri who's his family and Pierre and I are pretty sure she's going to invite him to a lot of grand Prix's. Let's say she didn't really like me.." I finish with a sigh. "Can't we have like a block list of people who are forbidden to GP's?" I chuckle. "Pierre said the exact same thing, but I don't think FIA would allow that." "Stupid FIA." He pouts like a little kid as I turn around to find him in jeans and a knitted sweater. 

"When did you even- you know what? I don't want to know." I take a cushion to put it under my head. "Hey hey no time to go sleeping missy." I ignore him and turn my back to the sound. Then the mattress sinks in next to me. "Do not. Ignore. Me." With every word he pokes one of my sides, making me spasm around. "Stop. Doing. That." I take his hands and turn my back to him again. "I. Am. Tired. Leclerc." An exaggerated sigh escapes his lips when he moves to sit down next to me, his hands still captured by mine, which makes it a little more challenging. "Fine." I turn back to face him. "What are you doing?" I ask confused as to why he would sit down too. "Close your eyes." When I don't do what he asks, he sighs deeply. "Bo." "Charles." I copy his tone. "Will you just close your eyes and sleep?" I look at his head, which is hanging above mine, challenging to go against him. "Okay." He hadn't expected that answer but smiles lightly before taking his phone. "Sweet dreams ma belle." I nod, rearranging my pillow before dozing off. 

"Oui. Oui, d'accord. Juste fixe-le Fabiana. Faire en sorte que cela ne se reproduise plus stp."

A mix of voices wakes me up from my sleep. Pierre joined Charles in the drivers room, talking hushed but annoyed to the person on the receiving end of the phone. My head lays in Charles' lap, who also doesn't look very happy. To finish the trio, an irritated Arthur Leclerc is leaning against the door of his brother's driving room. "Je me fiche de savoir qui est responsable. Veillez simplement à ce que cela ne se reproduise plus. Jésus." With those words the phone call ended. "Fucking idiots."