A Little Flirting Hurt No One

Bad idea, right?

They had to be back in Maranello at the factory in a week, which didn't help considering Charles hadn't been able to sleep the nights before. He had arrived at the factory looking like a sleep deprived demon, earning a couple of glances from the engineers. He caught Carlos's eye talking to one of the engineers. He gave him a soft smile which Carlos returned.

Charles took a seat around the table, Carlos sitting down next to him. "Are you okay?" Carlos whispered as he adjusted his posture, "You seem more tired than usual."

"Yeah it's nothing," Charles replied, it was most definitely not nothing, "just couldn't sleep."

"Thinking about me that much, Charles?" Carlos snarked, earning himself a nudge in the elbow.

The debrief began, consisting of the engineers criticizing Carlos about 'not using the car enough'. But Carlos took it, he didn't give a shit about their opinions. Very much the opposite of Charles. He drove with the mentality of driving for himself and only himself. And while Charles also received it, he would indeed care about them. He accepted the criticism, allowing it to destroy him from the inside out. Allowing every comment to float in his brain rent-free, which would of course later take a major toll on his mental health.

The debrief was shorter than usual, considering they couldn't really criticize Charles for something that wasn't his fault. Yet they somehow did find certain points to put pressure on. That being 'not holding position' or 'not fighting back'. He knew well enough that if he did either one of those, people would find something else to pick on him for. He saw it all the time from the f1 commentators.

Alas, the debrief ended and they're allowed to return back home. By return home they mean hop on yet another 9 hour jet trip to Canada. They spent a lot of time in the jet due to the flights they took to Maranello and the GPs. Charles sat down on a window seat, Carlos taking the aisle. Charles's eyes were fighting to stay open, his head too heavy for his neck to support.

Carlos decided better not to push on Charles's condition. He thought it would be better for Charles to open up when he was ready.

Which would later seem impossible.

Charles reclined his seat, closing his eyes in attempt of some sleep. Carlos scrolled a bit on his phone, looking out the window by Charles occasionally.

It took a while for sleep to come to Charles, but when it did, it lasted an eternity.

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"Charles come on we're here," Carlos's voice woke him up from his slumber. Due to the time zone difference, it was already morning in Canada by the time they arrived. It was one of the many struggles of traveling in F1, considering the drivers had to absolutely wreck their sleep schedules during the race weekends.

Lucky for Charles though, he'd already been able to sleep that 7 hours; waking up for lunch only.

The ride to the hotel was silent for the most part. Charles drunk on his own sleep and Carlos too tired.

They parted their ways at the elevator, suitcases in hand. Carlos, deciding to fuck up his sleep schedule, immediately flopped on the bed, snoozing fast asleep.

Charles, a little more productive, unpacked his suitcase. Luckily it didn't have much, allowing him to plop down on the bed shortly after in a pair of sweats.

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Charles's eyes lit up with joy as he saw the chequered flags wave as he crossed. His skin was too tight for his heart, excitement bursting through it.

"LETS FUCKING GO!" Charles's voice burst through the radio, enthusiasm in his voice. He had finally won another race, it put him back in the fight for the championship. Behind him in second was Carlos, not seemingly as eager as Charles. He couldn't blame him honestly, Carlos had equal chance for the win if it wasn't for team orders (though secretly Charles did believe he was better than Carlos).