*◌ೃ࿔ ≡ 🏎️🌫️🫧 .･*｡ charles leclerc x engineer!reader — — where staying late has never worked out so well
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—— IT WAS ONLY A FEW HOURS
Technically, you weren't ever supposed to stay late. Work culture in Monaco often meant prioritizing rest and wellness was half the battle, you often didn't use all your vacation days and spent too many hours at home working on stuff that could've waited until you went into the office the next day. But, when one doesn't have much else to do outside of work and you enjoy your job more than most, that doesn't stop you.
Besides, the entire team was running behind, one of your coworkers was out for a few months with their brand new baby. And with the new season coming up on them so quickly, you had offered up your Friday evening to finishing up the prototype reports and permit applications. Besides, what else were you going to do? Go home and kill a bottle of wine? Watch a romantic comedy? Same as most Friday nights.
So finally, with hitting the save button a million times just to be sure, packing your bag, emptying the coffee pot, and clicking off the lights in your office— you finally stretched your spine and made for the elevator.
You checked your phone as you waited, your dating app had sent you a few notifications that a few of your matches had sent you more messages. But, none of those guys had piqued your interest in any way. Boring, hard to hold a conversation, and asked what your body count was way too soon. Maybe tonight would be the night, you would finally delete those apps. They didn't seem to working anyhow.
Maybe it was cliche to find your soulmate in your twenties. Maybe you should just accept life for what it is, get married to some guy that is halfway decent, pop out a kid, get divorced, and hate life like everyone else. Isn't that how it goes?
With a ding of the door sliding open, you postpone the existential crisis for your car ride home. Maybe some Taylor Swift can heal your heart for now, sasiate you for tonight.
"Oh! Sorry, excusé moi." A voice comes from inside, your head lifting immediately to find out who else had been burning the midnight oil.
Working at Scuderia Ferrari, you know who Charles Leclerc is. Technically, you're entire job is making sure he can do his job. Literally, the only reason you have a job is because there are guys like him who excel. In order for him to be better, you have to be better. He does the driving and smiling and fame part, you do the math and the computer parts.
So what in gods name was he doing in the elevator of the Factory office half past midnight on a Friday? Wasn't he supposed to be on some relaxation retreat or sleeping with some super model before training started next week? Being here was specifically the opposite of taking some time off.
And seeing his exhausted expression that he attempted to hide, he was not relaxed.
You finally stepped inside, pushing past your starstruck face and forced yourself to keep your panic internal and act like a normal person inside a normal elevator with another normal person.
