The Dream In F1 I Charles leclerc I Horsechanic

The only bed

As Cable cries on the podium, I see somebody I once knew. His eyes blazing like gasoline.

-Hi, kiss-ass smoking babe. He says, with a wink.

It's Challel who is talking to me, his golden brown eyes locked onto me. I can't bring myself to meet his gaze after what he's done. Head down, I keep walking, lost in my own thoughts. That's when I accidentally collide with a tripod figure, a warm energy emanating from him. In a soft, buttery voice with a French accent, he says, "Excuse me, mademoiselle." I am too embarrassed to look at him and his words linger in my mind like a moth drawn to a flame.

The Perrari team calls me; it's time to jet off to Mexico for the next Grand Prix. Boarding the nearest plane, I find Ralph seated beside me, his hair showing signs of regrowth.

Upon arriving at the Mexican hotel, I step through the grand wooden doors, marveling at the opulent entrance. How Perrari can afford such luxury despite our perpetual lack of victories? I approach the front desk, eager to check in. To my dismay, the receptionist informs me of a flood caused by a recent rainstorm, leaving my assigned room destroyed.

Panic sets in, and I blurt out, "Then where am I supposed to stay?" The Perrari team gathers behind me, engaging in a discussion with the receptionist.

"Y/N, come with us. We have a room where you can stay."

I feel a mix of relief and gratitude. The camaraderie and the bond within the Perrari team. Together, we navigate the twists and turns of life on and off the track.

The Perrari team directs me to the first floor, room 106, and I shoot them a big smile as I eagerly make my way to my temporary haven. Excitement courses through me like adrenaline as I twist the doorknob and push open the door, ready to unwind in the luxurious space they've arranged for me.

But, oh, the scene that greets me is far from tranquil. "WHO ARE YOU, OUI BRA SALUT A BTA!" A man, with a head that oddly resembles a tripod, a devilishly handsome man, stands in the room. My eyes widen in disbelief. What on earth is happening? Why is there a screaming tripod man in my hotel room?

"This is my hotel room, get out!" he says. I glance back at the Perrari team, expecting shock mirrored on their faces, but they appear oddly unfazed. "You two have to share this hotel room, Y/N. There is no other way," they explain. "Who is this man?" I ask.

The Perrari team exchanges glances, "This is the driver for Alpine, Peepee Gassy. He is very nice. Don't worry," they assure me. However, Peepee Gassy seems far from content with the arrangement.

"BUT I DID not agree to this!" he screams. "Please, Peepee," the Perrari team pleads. "Okay" he says and suddenly agrees.

As Peepee Gassy and I walk in the room, we are confronted by the undeniable truth, there is only one bed. The Perrari team's leaves us in a silence that seems to amplify the awkwardness of the situation.

Our eyes meet. It's clear neither of us signed up for this, and yet, here we are, faced with the prospect of sharing not just a space but a bed.

Peepee Gassy breaks the silence, his voice softer than before, "This is not how I imagined spending my evening."

I offer a sympathetic smile, "Believe me, the feeling is mutual." We reluctantly approach the bed. Peepee Gassy takes a deep breath, "Look, I'm not thrilled about this either, but we can share a bed, just for tonight. We'll figure something out in the morning."

I nod in agreement. Peepee Gassy suggests, "How about we make the best of it? We can set some ground rules, stay on our respective sides." I answer, "Agreed. And, just for tonight, let's forget about the racing world outside these four walls."

The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm ambiance in the room. As Peepee Gassy settled onto the bed, he took of his shirt and the atmosphere shifted.

Peepee Gassy looked over and grinned, "Hey, you up for a little distraction? How about a pillow fight?"

I couldn't help but laugh at the unexpected proposal. "Sure, why not? It's not every day you get into a pillow fight with an Ormula 1 driver."

Pillows were grabbed and we playfully swung pillows at each other. In the midst of the friendly chaos, our eyes locked, and a moment of shared amusement turned into something more.

There was a pause, a heartbeat suspended in time, and our gazes lingered a fraction longer than they should have. The laughter faded, replaced by a quiet intensity. Our breaths mingled. Our lips hovered dangerously close.

I couldn't fathom the reality of sharing a bed with someone as incredibly handsome as Peepee. His presence seemed to radiate a magnetic charm. His eyes, oh, those eyes — they weren't just eyes; they were an entire universe.

As we sat there, contemplating the single bed we would share tonight, Peepee Gassy's expression shifted, discomfort passed across his face, and he hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Look, before this goes any further.." he began, his voice a little strained, "I hate to says this... but" He looked me in the eyes "I've got raging hemorrhoids."

I blinked in surprise, caught off guard "Oh"

"Yeah," he admitted, wincing slightly. "So I need to take the bed tonight" "Sure, Peepee. I understand. Take the bed, and let's just get through this night."

He nodded appreciatively, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks. I owe you one."

As Peepee Gassy comfortably claimed the bed, I resigned myself to a makeshift arrangement on the floor, cobbling together some blankets.

"I need those blankets too, though," Peepee continued, "For the hemorrhoids, you know." In a swift motion, he yanked all the blankets from my grasp as I lay on the floor, leaving me on the floor, alone, chilly.

Suddenly, I get a call...