F1 oneshots

AUS23 (1:1) ≪◦ ❈ ◦≫ Charles Leclerc

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Soft notes echoed through the large apartment in Monaco. They built a melody unlike any other I had heard before. The notes were slow, taking their time to build the expression they were after. It seemed so peaceful to listen to them follow one another. A perfect combination of sound and sensation, bringing enlightenment to one's ears.

This was usually how our mornings started, or evenings ended. However, on rare occasions such as this one, the keys on the white piano were gently pressed in the early afternoon. It was raining outside and the racing season had just ended, so Charles, as well as I, were resting before the festivities began in early December.

I sat on our beige sofa, watching him as he played with his back to me. In my hands there lay a notebook filled with information: stories and experiences, pictures and comments in someone else's handwriting.

It was his biography. He had entrusted me to write it for him because he didn't want someone he didn't know to spread false information about him. Plus, after he found out I was an author, his desire to have me write it grew even more.

The biography itself was something I immensely enjoyed working on. It brought me a certain peace and I felt that I got to know the Monégasque better by the word. He told me stories about his childhood, things he and his brother Arthur did, or how he first got into racing.

He laughed when he recalled the hairstyles he used to have, yet always being grateful to his mother for cutting his hair for him. Further into his life there came the F1 races, wins and losses, as well as his teammates. Yet no matter what he told me, there was always life in his eyes when he did so.

Charles loved to talk about the things that meant the most to him. His face would light up in excitement and he would turn into a 12-year-old boy again. Other than that, his way of expressing deep emotions was with his music. And lord did he know how much I loved it.

So I sat there, knees pulled up to my chest while I scribbled some notes, added a couple of drawings of him playing and wrote down what I knew. After a while, I became less interested in writing and more obsessed with Charles, so I put my notebook to the side and quietly stood up, stepping towards the Monégasque.

He continued playing, although he noticed me next to him. I watched as he portrayed his masterpiece effortlessly, his hands gliding over the keys with grace and elegance. It made me smile. No matter how much I tried not to, a certain happiness took me over and I wasn't going to try and stop it.

Charles saw me smiling when he glanced over and couldn't help but blush himself and smile while still looking down. Until he suddenly stopped. Aw, I thought.

"Come here, ma chérie," Charles said softly and offered his hand. I took it, only for him to pull me into his lap right there in front of the piano. I laughed, making him chuckle and wrap his arms around my waist.

"Do you want to learn my song?" he asked quietly into my ear, leaving behind goosebumps. I blushed and nodded.

"All right, give me your hands, ma belle," he demanded and I placed my hands in his before he gently placed them on the piano. Though I had learned to play the piano when I was younger, I still went along with Charles' guidance.

It was soothing to have his big warm hands on mine as he showed me what I had to play.

"Okay, so here, you'll repeat each of these twice in the order I showed you and I'll accompany you with the rest here," Charles explained sweetly and all I could do was smile.

"Do you have the sheet music, maybe?" I asked quietly as I was embarrassed I would destroy the moment.

"Of course, it's on the top of that pile there," Charles answered. I stood up right where I was and leaned forward to reach the pile of sheet music.

His hands coincidentally slid down my waist to my thighs, very slowly passing the body parts in between. It made me blush, so I sat back down and only heard his chuckle from behind me.

"Stop being cheeky, Leclerc, and focus on the piano," I said, but he chuckled once more and hugged me tightly, leaning his chin on my shoulder as I read the music sheet.

He watched as I scanned through the sheets, putting them up in front of me: "Oh this isn't difficult at all."

He scoffed sarcastically and it was my turn to chuckle: "It's not supposed to be difficult," he said, "it's supposed to make you feel something."

I smiled: "And it does, Charles, it really does."

I placed my hands on the keys and slowly began to play AUS23 (1:1). Charles seemed absolutely mesmerised because he only watched my hands and stopped all movement behind me.

Even I enjoyed playing his piece and when it ended, my fingertips lingered on the keys for a couple of seconds.

"Y/n..." he whispered in my ear, making me shiver.

"Hm?" I responded quietly.

"That," he kissed my neck, "was beautiful."

I stood up and turned around, taking a seat on his lap to look him in the eyes and he smiled at me while his hands found themselves around my waist again, holding me close.

"Only thanks to you, Charles," I said. His smile wouldn't stop growing and he had to bite down his lip.

I chuckled, leaning in to rest my forehead against his while placing my arms around his neck. His hands stroked up my back, gripping tightly. We closed our eyes and he very slowly leaned down to press his lips against mine.

We moved slowly, making me lean back against the piano until some keys were pressed, jolting us both awake.

Charles laughed and I joined before we got back to staring at each other. I smiled proudly: "My composer."

I pecked his lips. He couldn't help but add a couple of kisses himself.

"My author," he said back, kissing me again. I smiled against his lips and let him take over the situation.

After a while, I pulled back and looked him in the eye: "The song you were playing before, it was new."

"Yeah," he answered, "it's a special one."

"What's it called?" I asked, stroking the back of his neck gently.

He smiled down at me and answered calmly: "Ma Belle."