HOME | charles leclerc

fourteen.

Charles and I walked toward security together, fans screaming along the way. Inside the paddock, the gates were lined with fans.

I glanced over at Charles, the slight smile on his face bringing one to mine. He always looked so happy when people were chanting his name. Everybody's a Ferrari fan, even if they're not, right?

His head turned toward me, the look he had was signaling how he wanted to go greet them. "You go ahead, Caleigh wants to talk to me." I sent him a smile.

He smiled back, the smile reaching his eyes as he reached out for me, squeezing my hand as we parted ways.

It didn't take me long to find my boss, she and Lissie were standing near the media pen deep in conversation. That was, until they saw me. Both of their faces lit up at the sight of me and I couldn't help but feel flattered. We'd been apart for only nearly two weeks and you would've thought it was over a month based on how big our smiles were.

"Ads! Just the Monegasque I wanted to see." Caleigh clapped her hands in excitement.

I laughed, "Well, you did ask me to come find you when I got here."

"I was thinking that since you covered Quali yesterday, would you be interested in having the race off today? We can always use two reporters, but it isn't necessary."

I furrowed my eyebrows, suddenly confused.

"I mean, it would be fun to watch from the balcony or a garage, but I don't have to. Any reason you're asking?" I was curious, only because Caleigh looked as though she had been plotting something.

The brunette glanced at her other reporter, almost as if she were urging her to speak.

Lissie sent me a smile, holding her hands out to the side. "I actually brought up the idea. I thought that since Charles qualified at P2 you miht want to have the chance to be at the podium celebration if need be and not have to work."

I was speechless.

Back when I was dating Lando I don't think Caleigh ever let me take an entire race off. I remember being allowed to go see him when he got off of the track and for the podium celebration, but the whole race? Unheard of.

But Lissie wasn't wrong. Charles was set up to do well in the reace today, so the sentiment was appreciated. Ever since landing the job of reporter for F1, I've secretly wanted to be able to watch a race again without having to work - that was a luxury I didn't have anymore.

A smile crept its way back onto my face, "I think I would like that."

Lissie and Caleigh both then urged me to go to the garages, to find Charles and let him know of my luck for the day. I nearly ran to the Ferrari garage I was so excited.

The cream colored sundress flowed with me as I ran, making it to the garage in record time, knocking excitedly on Charles' driver room door when I arrived. "Come in!" His french accent seeping through.

I pushed the door open, trying to fight the ever growing smile on my face. Charles turned around to face me, a smile showing on his face when he saw me in the doorway.

I paused for a moment, suddenly distracted by the sight of him in his racing clothes - his fireproofs and his racing suit hanging around his waist. The sight of him like this has never distracted me until now, what was different?

"Devinez quoi?" (Guess what?) I asked, now focused back on what I initially came here to do.

He lifted his eyebrows, probably curious now, "Quoi?" (What?)

"Je n'ai pas besoin de travailler pendant la course. Je peux regarder depuis le garage... si tu veux." (I don't need to work during the race. I can watch from the garage... if you want.) Why was I nervous that he'd say no? I'm not sure the man has ever said that word to me.

Somehow, his smile grew wider.

He closed the gap between us and pulled me into the tightest hug, tucking his face into the crook of my neck. "C'est incroyable! Bien sûr, je te veux dans le garage." (It's incredible! Of course I want you in the garage.)

Charles' hot breath on my neck made me shiver.

I don't think he noticed.

"Je veux que tu regardes depuis le garage aussi souvent que possible, Della." (I want you to watch from the garage as often as possible, Della.)

About an hour or so later and all of the drivers were about to head out to the track to get in their cars. Charles is usually in a pretty serious mood at this point, getting himself in a racing mindset.

So, needless to say, seeing Charles jogging over to me with a look in his eyes threw me off.

"Tout va bien?" (Everything is fine?)

Charles nodded wordlessly, slipping a pair of headphones onto my head that I hadn't seen him holding, pressing a kiss to my forehead. My eyes fluttered closed at the feelin but opened back up just as quickly. "Je veux que tu écoutes." (I want you to listen.) He then grabbed the cord and plugged it into a nearby radio.

He wants me to listen?

Before I could even respond he jogged away again, grabbing his balaclava and helmet and jogging off to the track.

~~~~~

"That's P7, Charles. We'll get them next time."

Fuck.

He's not going to be happy when he gets back to the garage, he never was whenever he finished with a spot lower than what he started at. He'd told me today that he thought he might even get podium today. I can't blame him for being mad, he was working his ass off during this race and it just didn't seem to be enough.

I can't remember who, but someone had run him off the track in lap 17 which caused him to drop a few places and he just never recovered. The radio after the incident was riddled with curse words from both the garage and Charles.

I slipped the headphones off, sitting them on a nearby table before trekking back to his driver's room even though I'm not quite sure he'd want me back here. But still, I waited.

The door swung open a few minutes later and I stood up from the couch, ready to leave if he wanted me too.

He'd noticed I was there, but didn't acknowledge me at first, probably trying to figure out if he even wanted to speak. I watched in silence as he pulled off his helmet and balaclava before unzipping his suit and letting it hang at his waist again.

"I'm sorry you wasted a day off to see me finish P7." he grumbled, sipping from his water bottle.

My jaw hung open, "This wasn't a waste, Charlie. You fought hard and this was a much better result than last time." The Grand Prix before he hadn't even finished the race, just finishing the race was a better finish.

"J'aurais juste aimé pouvoir être sur le podium." (I just wish I could have been on the podium.)

I took a risk and walked closer to him, closing the gap between our bodies. Usually, Charles despised proximity when he was heated, but he wasn't reacting to me coming closer, so I continued.

My hand softly held his cheek, the 25-year-old lifted his face at my action, his eyes holding an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. "Il y a toujours un autre Grand Prix, Charlie." (There is always another Grand Prix, Charlie.) He nods, leaning into her hand.

Charles just stared at me for a few seconds, that look still in his eyes.

He leaned into my hand, "Serez-vous là pour célébrer avec moi si je monte sur le podium?" (Will you be there to celebrate with me if I get on the podium?)

"Même si je dois fuir mon travail." (Even if I have to run away from my job.) I smiled brightly at him, my love for my best friend burning in my chest.

I then hooked the thumb of the hand holding his face on his chin, turning his face to the side and kissing his sweaty cheek.

And definitely ignoring the feeling of electricity on my lips when they made contact with his skin.

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