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Another season had passed in the blink of an eye, and Charles once again found himself on Yas Island, overlooking the brilliant blue of the marina.
He had never been in those waters. He knew some mechanics and engineers, even drivers, had a tradition of jumping (or being thrown) in to close off the season. He wondered what it was like, if the water was cool and refreshing. However the weather this morning was nice and balmy, so he didn’t feel the need to seek relief.
“Good morning.”
Charles turned at the sound of the familiar accent. Carlos was crossing the balcony towards him, hair incredibly windswept and looking beautifully unstyled yet perfect. He had a disposable cup in hand that no doubt contained coffee. His eyes were half shut both from squinting in the morning sun and the blanket of jet lag.
Charles felt as tired as Carlos looked (but without the effortlessly tousled hair), and that was his downfall.
If he hadn’t been so tired, he might not have been so weird in the video.
The challenge was simple enough: decorate some cookies and answer some trivia questions. They even had cards to read from, so they didn’t have to come up with anything themselves. The problem was that Carlos was barely woken up with lowered inhibitions. He was lounging against the pillows, spreading his legs until their thighs were close to touching. He started eating the cookies prematurely, which made Charles giggle more than he needed to. He grabbed at Charles’ hand while they were piping frosting, which made Charles’ senses go haywire, all while looking incredibly relaxed, like he wasn’t messing with Charles on purpose, like it was just natural for him to grab Charles’ hand without thinking about it.
Charles tried his best to focus on the cards and questions, to move the challenge along. The sooner they finished filming, the sooner this slow torture would end and he could get a grip on himself. However this led to even more weird behaviour, that he was going to look back on and cringe at. He might have cut in quickly with some of his answers, and even tugged a card from Carlos so they would move on to the next one.
Carlos, of course, had other ideas, reading languidly, commenting on the cards, messing with the frosting, and taking his time with the challenge in general. It was unfair. Charles too was still barely awake, too tired to demonstrate self-control yet conscious enough to overthink his every move.
It didn’t help that the cards were giving them directions like ‘look towards the driver next to you’, nor that Carlos was more than happy to play along, fixing Charles with a look that should have been funny but in their bleary states only made Carlos look incredibly mussed up. Charles’ brain immediately started thinking of what other situation would have Carlos looking like that, and in hindsight he might have pulled a face while chastising his thoughts to stop going there.
He was barely keeping it together when Carlos read their names out in the next line, and made an effort to repeat his name in his version of a french accent. Charllle. Charles had to turn away and focus on getting the next card to distract himself from his inopportune thoughts.
He was eventually saved by someone calling for him. They had overrun, and he had a meeting with some French media. Carlos was sent off alone to deliver the cookies to the lab staff, while Charles was shepherded to another part of hospitality.
Later that morning, after a pick-me-up snack from the kitchen, Charles sat in his room in the motorhome and recounted in horror every odd action he remembered doing around Carlos. Every time he readjusted his position or read a card too forcefully before his thoughts ran away from him. Every time their arms brushed while reaching for a card together and he felt his muscles twitch. Every time he found himself reclining back on the seats with Carlos and suddenly sat back upright.
He could only imagine how awkward he would be in the video. He thought of an older PR video they made, one of their first together for this partner, that became infamous for their “acting skills”. The difference was that that video had been made to look weird and awkward on purpose. This one was all himself.
There was the part where one of them had to be blindfolded to apply frosting.
“I deserve it because I guided you into a wrong answer,” Carlos offered.
“I will put you - ” Charles began before he realised what he was doing. But his hand had already grabbed onto the bright red cloth that Carlos was unfolding.
He froze, and only came to when Carlos tugged on the cloth. “Charles. The blindfold.”
Charles thought he might have had a spasm when he let go. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it, or if the video would show him jerking awkwardly away from the blindfold. Oh dio, I hope they cut out that part.
Charles sighed and slumped back against the sofa bed as he thought about it. It had quickly gone downhill for him from there. They had moved marginally closer together as they both worked on the small tray of cookies, and Charles had started enjoying the decorating himself, so he failed to notice when he gravitated towards Carlos, leaning in to read the card over his shoulder, letting their legs and arms touch, his body opening up and angling oh so slightly to him. He couldn’t decide if it was good that he’d done less awkward reactions, or bad that he had caught himself less times.
He had been too comfortable. He hadn’t realised how easy it had become to press himself against Carlos and lean into his space. Something that had started in jest had turned into something natural for the two of them.
Sylvia had once suggested him and Sebastian kiss to help with PR. He hadn’t been sure if she was joking or would have actually made them do it if she deemed it necessary. Even Seb’s counteroffer of holding hands had felt a bit too much. Yes they hugged in celebration, clapped each other on the shoulder in greeting, and did grow closer. But casual hand holding, he could not picture that even now.
He’s now held Carlos’ hand though. Kind of, when he was getting the spoon into Carlos’ hand. He had planned to hold onto Carlos to control his hand in spooning the red frosting, but had given up because he started feeling a cold burning tingling where his palm wrapped around Carlos’ wrist.
Seb was an idol and then a mentor who had become a friend. Carlos was a friend who had become something more. He couldn’t quite put the feeling into words, because his mind was always left a jumbled mush. It was like he was rendered incapable of thought.
Except not all thought. There was Carlos running his hand through his hair, Carlos’ head close to his as they read something together, Carlos smearing frosting on his cheek, and the frosting was red, and he’d briefly thought it was like a lipstick stain from --
Cazzo. No. He wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t thinking about any lips, or Carlos engaged in any sort of suggestive action. He definitely wasn’t thinking about Carlos’ hand guiding his to pipe the icing onto the cookies.
As he stewed in his room, his mind travelled back to an older video - the buzzer game in Zandvoort.
“You still need to invite me to your house to cook me the hamburger.”
“Yeah, but you never want to come.”
“You never invite me.”
“You’re always‘I’m too busy.’”
Carlos might have taken it all in fun, but Charles had actually been clinging on to the hamburger promise for the better part of a year. They has been unimpressed with the takeout burgers they grabbed in their rush to catch a flight back to the factory, and Carlos’ cousin had remarked that Carlos made better burgers for their family gatherings. Carlos then said that if Charles ever visited Spain, he would make Charles a hamburger. Unfortunately since then, they hadn’t ended up in Spain at the same time, a fact that was bugging Charles.
Maybe it was because lunch was scheduled in an hour, but he was suddenly craving a hamburger. And cookies.
And Carlos’ company.
With an indignant determination, he marched out of his driver’s room and through the motorhome in search of his teammate.
His target eluded him, and Charles was ready to search the whole paddock when he saw - heading towards the steps leading outside and down to the main street - the back of Carlos’ shirt - Carlos leaving - and the words burst out of him before he could stop himself.
“Mate! We should meet this winter break and make some cookies just for ourselves,” he said.
Carlos seemed a little stunned at first by Charles’ sudden calling out to him, but a calm smile spread across his face when he heard the suggestion.
“Just for ourselves, eh? No need to give away to other people.”
“Yes, for ourselves. We shall eat our own cookies,” Charles asserted. “And you can also finally cook me the hamburger.”
Carlos was grinning now. He had put on a cap backwards since Charles last saw him, tufts of hair at the back curling out from underneath. “Of course. But you need to come to Spain. My apartment near the factory doesn’t have a grill so we need to go to Madrid or Mallorca.”
“Of course, mate. I will even bring a grill to the factory if that is easiest for us to meet.” He had said that as a joke, but Charles was now picturing himself unloading a portable grill from the boot of his car, with all of Maranello watching him. Wait, surely the kitchens had grills, right?
He laughed at himself, mentally shaking the thought away. “No, of course, I will give you my plans for the break and you can let me know what is a good day to visit. I will bring the cookies.”
“Are we just decorating cookies or are we making the cookies completely from - from scratch?” Carlos asked.
Charles paused. He had just imagined them doing a rerun of the day’s activities, but in Carlos’ kitchen instead of on a balcony on Yas Island. However, Carlos had brought up a fantastic idea. Baking cookies together sounded a lot more fun and meaningful.
“From scratch,” he decided. “Why not? Let’s try it.”
“Let’s try it,” Carlos repeated. “I think my sister has a recipe. If it is anything like today, I’m sure they will turn out…amazing.”
“Amazing,” Charles echoed.
“Muy bien.” Carlos clapped him on the shoulder, and when he stared into Charles’ eyes, his gaze was full of friendly promise. “So it’s a date, then.”
Charles’ heart stuttered. “It’s a - a what?” he choked out, voice shrinking.
His internal crisis must not have shown, or Carlos had not noticed it, because the other man was chuckling at himself and his eyes had crinkled up. Charles giggled nervously.
Dio, why does he make these jokes.
“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Carlos finished. And Charles suddenly remembered that Carlos had looked like he was going somewhere before Charles had called out to him.
“Ah yes, sorry. I will see you later too.”
He felt a little awkward, but Carlos had just smiled his usual calm smile and waved as he walked off. Only when the other man was out of sight did Charles release the breath he had been holding. He wasn’t sure when his face got this warm.
Maybe he should jump in the marina to cool off.