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Lewis is ecstatic; there is simply no other way of putting it into words.
The entirety of 2025 has been a dream scenario of young Lewis, with his chance at driving for Ferrari—although he thinks young Lewis would have imagined a few more wins and podiums, and far less fuckups from his dream team, but that's a story for another day. Nothing can really dampen his excitement of racing in red for the first time at Silverstone.
He is tapping his feet impatiently as the car pulls up at the gate, and stills when Roscoe grunts in displeasure at the seats being shaken.
“Sorry buddy,” he says in amusement and scratches his back to mollify his dog.
Roscoe pants, leaning into his hand and then lays his head down on his lap. A paw comes to grip his leg and Lewis is hit with how much he has missed his dog when he was busy travelling the world. He takes Roscoe's face in his hands, places a gentle kiss on his head and melts when Roscoe closes his eyes in response and lets out a small whine.
“I'm sorry to disturb you, buddy, but we've reached and we've gotta get out of the car now.”
Roscoe grunts but makes no effort to move and he has to laugh. He has said it multiple times himself that his dog is a literal angel and he hasn't ever been troubled by him. But Roscoe is, afterall, his dog and has his moments of rebellion.
“C'mon Roscoe, it's time to shine, eh?”
With that he gently loosens the grip Roscoe has on him and pats his back in comfort when Roscoe barks in protest. He quickly jumps out of the car, startled by the immediate screams as soon as the fans spot him and he waves to them. He rounds his way to the other side of the car and opens the door for Roscoe to jump out.
This menace, he thinks fondly to himself as gone is Roscoe's hesitation, gone is his protest when the noise of Silverstone trickles over to Roscoe and he leaps out of the car enthusiastically, ears perked up when he hears his name being shouted alongside Lewis’. Roscoe stands compliant next to him as he clasps the leash and picks up his bag from the car.
He bends down to pat Roscoe and whispers, “Alright. Showtime, my little celebrity.”
Roscoe rubs his head against his leg as if to urge him on and Lewis stands up, shaking his head in exasperation. He walks towards the entrance, stopping near the group of fans to sign their caps and pose for a few pictures. He knows some of them have to be coming to the races for a while because they harbour no hesitation at showering a similar attention on Roscoe, who basks in it entirely and barks happily at being offered all the pets.
They make their way inside and he instantly gets lost in the sea of photographers and videographers. He is grateful for how unbothered Roscoe is by all the flashes and the noise as he continues to trot alongside Lewis without a care in the world. Lewis might even say that Roscoe enjoys the attention and walks with a little pump in his step.
“LEWIS!” A voice shouts and Charles rushes over with a big smile on his face.
He cannot help his own embarrassingly huge smile when Charles hugs him in greeting. Charles’ head is safely tucked into his neck as he mumbles a greeting and Lewis is overcome by a wave of happiness as he wraps his arms tightly around his teammate.
“Morning, CL,” he says quietly as they part away reluctantly, suddenly becoming aware of the cameras trained on them. He offers a small smile and gets a shy one in return. “How are you?”
Charles shrugs. “Better now that you're here.”
He stops breathing entirely, and his heart beats treacherously in his chest.
“Oh,” his voice is small when he manages to find it. “Um… me too, I… I'm glad to see you too.”
Charles nods, beaming at him and they stand there in the middle of the grid, smiling stupidly at each other. He comes to the realisation of how he feels his day has instantly improved once he has seen Charles and spoken to him, which forces him to recognise that it has been the case for the past few weeks. He has to visit that train of thought, probably with Charles—
“Excited for the weekend?” he asks.
Listen, Lewis hasn't been great with his feelings in the past forty years, he isn't about to start now.
Charles smirks at him. “Not as much as you though.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I think maybe only Ollie can rival my excitement to race in Silverstone.”
They share a laugh and Lewis has to admit he really likes the dimples appearing on Charles’ face as laughter overtakes him. He has the urge to keep Charles smiling and laughing always, to keep the joy on his face and more importantly, keep being the reason for his happiness.
Roscoe barks loudly, his grumpy expression deepening at being ignored by both of them. Charles’ eyes widen when he notices Roscoe and he immediately bends to his level, gathering him in a tight hug.
“Hello! Hello! Hello, mon ange,” Charles says, stroking Roscoe's face and pressing a loud kiss at the top of his head. “I missed you! I haven't seen you for a while, your dad doesn't bring you along often.”
Roscoe is delighted by Charles, barking cheerfully as he leans into him. Lewis might be seeing things, but he swears that he can see Roscoe's sad face become a little smiley.
Charles continues to pet Roscoe, murmuring more french pet names than he could ever possibly decipher and he is surprised by how well Roscoe seems to be responding to Charles; pawing playfully at him whenever Charles kisses him. He thinks Leo might become a little jealous.
“C'mon, mon amour,” Charles says, standing to his full height and taking the leash away from Lewis. “We gotta let your dad have his catwalk moment.”
“I’ve already had—” His reply gets drowned by Roscoe willingly walking over to Charles and looking at him expectantly to lead them away. “Never mind…”
He feels a little silly handing over his dog to his teammate as they walk a few meters away from him while the cameras start following them. They have barely made a few steps when Charles abruptly stops and bends over to pick up Roscoe.
“There! That's better!” Charles smiles as he carries Roscoe while on his way to the Ferrari garage.
“What?” he says to no one in particular. “Wait! Charles, no! He can walk! Charles!”
He gets ignored by both Charles and Roscoe, leaving him to trail behind them, completely baffled and bewildered by it all. Charles continues to mumble to Roscoe who is listening to the chatter attentively while laying his head on Charles’ chest and Lewis isn't sure he will survive watching that sight until they reach Ferrari.
He watches in muted delight as Charles and Roscoe are in their own little world, with Charles talking and Roscoe grunting in reply at surprisingly accurate times throughout the conversation. However, that is when he realises that Charles isn't exactly looking ahead while walking and he scrambles to prevent them from walking straight into a pole.
“Thanks,” Charles whispers, blushing and he rolls his eyes in amusement.
Being stopped from walking into a pole doesn't stop Charles from veering off track and being in potential danger of now walking into other people and equipment, so Lewis sighs and takes two quick steps to reach Charles and place a hand on his back to guide him ahead. Charles stills when they make contact and Roscoe tilts his head in a silent question when he realises that they have stopped again.
Lewis doesn't let it become a big deal, pressing his hand firmly on Charles’ back and says, “If I don't do that you will walk into everything and everyone, and I won't have a teammate during the race.”
Charles finds his voice, mumbling a tiny ‘okay’ and faces away before Lewis can question the flushed look on his face. Shrugging, he throws a quick pose to the people shouting at him while most of his attention is trained on making sure Charles makes it to the garage in one piece.
(He doesn't see the ‘Lewis with his wife and son’ memes until he catches a red faced Charles looking at them, weeks later.)
Fred blinks slowly at them when they all enter the garage. “Lewis?”
He raises a particularly judgemental eyebrow, something Lewis hasn't seen being directed at him in nearly over two decades back when he was a teenager and Fred wasn't amused by his antics with girls.
“I didn't know we were going to offer you pick up service?”
He scoffs. “Not much of a pickup service as is my teammate appearing next to me and then stealing my son!”
Fred laughs loudly while Charle shoots him a wink—bless him, he hasn't learned how to wink yet, so it ends up looking more like he is trying to clear away something from his eyes—and shows Roscoe in his arms. “Your son came willingly. I simply let him accompany me.”
He sighs deeply. “Can't argue with that, he did do that. Traitor!”
Roscoe only pants and leans in towards Lewis to get him to keep stroking his head. Fred facepalms and mutters loudly about ‘stupid, oblivious drivers’ and some words in French that he doesn't understand, but judging by Charles’ reaction, they aren't particularly flattering.
He places his hand back again on Charles’ lower back and lightly pushes him towards their driver rooms. They get smirks and wiggling eyebrows from every single person they cross paths against, and Lewis is left wondering what is it that he is missing because Charles seems to be ducking his head bashfully everytime they catch someone's eye, so surely Charles knows and he would be much obliged if he shares it with the class.
Lewis holds the door open to let Charles inside and waves a hand in flourish. “Have a seat, check the fridge for a drink, let Roscoe down… whatever you want.”
Charles does take a seat on his sofa, with Roscoe settled carefully in his lap and he doesn't know why he thought he could possibly separate the bond—sudden, but not entirely unexpected—that Charles now shares with Roscoe. He raids his fridge to see if he has any drinks to offer, coming up triumphantly with a bottle of water.
“Fancy some ice cold water, CL? That's all I got.”
Charles chuckles but shakes his head. “Naah, I'm good. Come, have a seat. You don't need to treat me like a guest, I've spent way too much time in your rooms to be considered a guest anymore.”
“Fair point,” he concedes, thinking back to all the times Charles has been in his room when even Lewis isn't in them.
He settles next to Charles on the sofa, idly caressing Roscoe and asks, “So, where's your stuff? Like, you didn't have anything in your hand when I saw you outside. Do you want me to get your things here?”
“Uhh…” Charles laughs nervously, “it's already in my room?”
“Huh?”
Charles purses his lips and replies back sheepishly, “I came in half an hour ago. I already kept my bag and everything in my room. I just… umm… I was just… PIERRE!”
The sudden shout of his friend's name catches Lewis off guard and he stares at Charles who seems more flustered by every passing second. “What?”
“I was coming from meeting Pierre, yes!” Charles nods firmly to emphasise what he is saying. “That's why I was out there! I had to meet Pierre. I wasn't waiting for you!”
“I never said you were!” Lewis exclaims, confusion lacing his voice as he tries to remember if he ever implied anything that is making Charles this anxious.
“Good!” Charles says. “I wasn't though!”
“Okay,” he agrees, unsure of what else to say. Then he does a double take. “Wait? Pierre? Isn't Alpine on the opposite side of where I met you?”
“Hmm?” Charles turns red. “Is it?”
Lewis slowly blinks, trying to understand the past few seconds of their conversation. Surely Charles knows where Pierre's garage is, and he is one hundred percent certain Charles knows where all the garages are. So it's definitely a lie about meeting Pierre at the entrance, which makes him wonder who Charles had actually met up with, and why does he not want Lewis to know about it.
Besides, Lewis never said Charles was waiting for him? Where… what?
Before he can spiral any further into a crisis, Roscoe paws at him to pull him closer.
“Buddy, what? Is… huh—”
Roscoe insistently pulls at his trousers and he quickly moves to where Roscoe wants him to stop him from ripping into his trousers. Roscoe keeps pulling him forward until he is right beside Charles, both of them pressed against each other: thighs, arms, shoulders. Roscoe wiggles slightly out of Charles’ lap and settles across Lewis’ lap, spread halfway between both of them and grunting unhappily until they both resume petting his back and head respectively. Roscoe pants in satisfaction, eyes shutting close and he sprawls heavily across both of them.
There is an apology at the tip of his tongue but he is surprised when he looks at Charles and finds him laughing at the exchange.
He chuckles and pokes Roscoe's face folds, “You greedy menace!”
Roscoe pays them no heed, utterly satisfied with having their undivided attention.
Charles relaxes on the sofa, turning to face Lewis and says, “How's it been? Finally having the F1 movie being released?”
“Oh my God! It's so much—”
He doesn't realise how long they sit there chatting, exchanging stories of what they had been upto over the weekend off and taking turns to pamper Roscoe with all the ruffles and treats that Charles has dug out from his bag. It's only when there is a knock on his door that he checks the time and realises he is running late for the press conference.
“Lewis?” Ella calls out and steps in when he waves her inside. “We have the press conference in ten minutes, you have to leave now.”
“I know, I know, I just realised,” he says and carefully returns Roscoe back to Charles’ lap. Roscoe protests all the way through, even whining loudly and jumping down to follow him. He drops to his level. “I'll be back soon, bud. I really gotta go.”
Roscoe looks at him imploringly and he considers calling off media duties altogether to stay with him.
“Don't worry, you've still got me!” Charles says as he walks over and crouches down next to them. “We can still play, Roscoe!”
Roscoe tilts his head questioningly at him, as if he doesn't believe that Charles wouldn't go away too; which, now that Lewis thinks about it, doesn't Charles also have to go do media?
“You have media too?” He frowns and Roscoe alternates glances between both of them.
Charles shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, but it's not a press conference so I can take him with me everywhere. And it's not my home race, so I don't have to be at a hundred different places at the same time. We will stay together, won't we?”
Charles smooths out the deep frown of Roscoe's face and Lewis is taken aback by the easy conviction in Charles’ voice to accompany Roscoe when he can't.
He places a hand over Charles’. “You don't have to.”
Charles smiles. “I know, but I still want to. Go do your job, I'll keep your baby company. He won't even miss you! We'll have so much fun!”
Roscoe grunts in agreement, now reassured that someone will stay with him till Lewis comes back. He jumps into Charles’ arms, placing a paw on each shoulder and starts to lick every inch of Charles’ face. Charles laughs as he falls on his arse and takes Roscoe down with him, neither of them relenting their grip on the other. Lewis has never been more assured that Roscoe is in good hands.
“Okay, then, I'll see you in a bit,” he says, giving one last back rub to Roscoe and a grateful smile to Charles.
“Say bye to dad, Roscoe!” Charles raises his paw to wave at Lewis and Roscoe barks in time to the waving. Charles laughs. “See this! You can go your way now.”
He is once again ignored by both his teammate and dog who get immersed in their own little world where they are equally enthralled by each other. It feels like a dismissal, but weirdly he isn't miffed by it.
And isn't that just another confusing feeling of the day?
He has had one too many since walking into the paddock and encountering Charles. Ella eyes him menacingly and he raises his hand in surrender.
“Going! I'm going!”
Lewis gets sucked into the media as soon as he shows up, getting dragged from one interview to the next and then one more. The press conference lasts forever, and he ends up impatiently tapping his feet to hurry things up. Tom wraps up the questions for the day and he springs out of his seat, immediately rushing out to avoid any small talk.
Once he is a significant distance away from being accosted for any other commitment, he slows down and leisurely checks his phone. He doesn't know why, but he hops on TikTok, smiling from ear to ear when he sees the excitement of the fans for his first home grand prix in red. It is during his mindless scrolling that he sees the first video someone had taken of Charles with Roscoe.
Charles is in the media pen, answering questions while Roscoe hovers next to him and then starts running laps around Charles’ legs when the interview stretches. Charles chuckles and ends the interview.
Okay, he wasn't joking about not leaving him alone. Lewis huffs out a quiet laugh as the video replays.
The video scrolls onto the next one and he is surprised to see it's a clip of Roscoe waddling next to Charles as he skips from one interviewer to the next. Charles picks up a light jog, looking back at Roscoe who barks but follows nonetheless.
Another clip shows Charles playing catch with Roscoe, and he is amused to see that he doesn't know who looks happier: Charles or Roscoe.
Lewis next sees a video of Charles trying to get Roscoe to do a trick and he is happy to know that Charles also fails in getting Roscoe to do them. Roscoe only does tricks when he wants to, and not even the promise of a treat can change his mind.
Lewis leaves a like on all of the videos, mentally preparing himself for the PR lecture. It's worth it for the happiness he sees on Charles and Roscoe's faces in all the videos. He feels the incessant urge to run back to both of them, simply to be there with them.
Ella sidles up next to him with a small smirk. “All done, Lewis. You can go back to your boys.”
“Really? Yes!” He smiles and then actually registers what Ella has said. “Not my boys!”
“Huh? Really?” Ella questions sarcastically. “Keep telling that to yourself.”
Ella sprints away before he can retort back, and he really needs people to stop ignoring him today! First Roscoe and then Charles and now Ella!
He reaches the Ferrari garage and hasn't even managed to sneak a word in before his entire team snickers and points at his driver's room. “They're in there.”
For the greater good of finally reuniting with Charles and Roscoe, he doesn't bother to decipher the sly looks he gets from both sides of the garages.
Lewis enters his room and immediately bursts out laughing.
Roscoe is chasing Charles around the tight space in the room while Charles giggles and dangles Roscoe's favourite toy from his hand. Charles leaps over the coffee table to escape and Roscoe follows suit; both of them this close to tripping and crashing on the ground. Charles collapses on the sofa in a fit of laughter and Roscoe jumps up as well, landing squarely on Charles’ chest, making him fall flat on the sofa.
“Oof,” Charles wheezes, still hiccuping from laughter but he relinquishes his hold on the toy. Roscoe instantly snatches it back and settles on Charles’ chest. Charles gathers Roscoe in a loose hug and kisses him softly. “Yeah, yeah, you can have your toy back, you big baby!”
“I see my absence hasn't been felt.” Lewis grins, closing the door behind him. Charles smiles at him, raising a hand in acknowledgement. Roscoe drops his toy and comes running towards Lewis. “Hello! Hi! It's nice to know that I still have priority over your chewed up toy.”
“Don't be so sure.” Charles sits up straighter. “He chased me round for a solid amount of time when he realised I took his toy. He loves that… that?... I don't actually know what that toy is supposed to be.”
Lewis laughs heartily. “I don't remember either. I bought this in 2016, as you can see it has been thoroughly used.”
Roscoe headbutts his leg to state his point and he cannot help but laugh. “Okay, okay, I'm not saying anything!”
Charles grins, patting the seat besides him on the sofa. “Come, have a seat. Do you want me to fetch you a drink?”
He snickers yet sits down. “Last I checked, this is my room. How could you possibly even know what is there in the fridge?”
Charles rolls his eyes. “And last I checked, I spent more time in this room with your dog than you.”
And isn't that true?
Roscoe trots over to them, and seeing the gap they have left between them, he plops down between them. He looks at Lewis and growls unhappily, gesturing with his head towards Lewis’ bag and Lewis realises with a start that Roscoe probably wants more food.
“Alright, okay, I get it,” Lewis says, making his way over to his bag. “I'll feed you more, not like I already don't do enough.”
Charles grins. “Today it's fine, he ran around with me a lot. He deserves those treats.”
“Yeah, I saw.” He rummages through his bag and brings out Roscoe's food.
“You saw?”
“TikTok man, they're fast.” He pours Roscoe's food in his bowl and takes it over. “Roscoe—”
If there is one thing that motivates his dog, it's food. Roscoe is already sitting down on the floor, looking at him eagerly and he can see the sparkle in Roscoe's eyes as the food comes closer.
Lewis takes his seat with Charles and they chatter leisurely amongst themselves while watching Roscoe eat his food. A fleeting thought of having this scene play everyday at his house plays in Lewis’ mind: Lewis would wake up early in the morning, definitely before Charles because that man can sleep, and he makes both of them breakfast. Leo, being the energetic ball he is, would wake up with him and follow him around, asking to play at every opportunity. Charles and Roscoe will stumble into the living room together; Charles rubbing the sleep from his eyes and Roscoe ambling heavily alongside him. Leo would run towards them, barking cheerfully while running circles around them. The trio would then reach Lewis, Roscoe barking in greeting and settling by his legs while Charles presses a quick kiss on his cheek and makes both of them their tea and coffee. Lewis would smile happily and they would all sit, enjoying their morning serenity.
Hang on.
Hang on a damn second.
What the actual fuck?!
Lewis’ mind comes to a screeching halt at the domestic scenario his mind conjures up, and he is even more petrified by how much he actually wants it to be true. He really wants those calm mornings with Charles and their dogs by his side, happy and smiling before they go brave the day.
“Hello? LH?” Charles calls his name, waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you here with me?”
Lewis gulps heavily, turning to face Charles while experiencing a life changing moment and he knows his face is doing something nasty because Charles immediately loses the playful smile, reaching to hold both his hands and speaks hurriedly. “What happened? Are you okay? What's up?”
Charles looks at him with concerned eyes, carefully rubbing circles along Lewis’ thumbs that are securely in his hands. Lewis looks down at their tangled hands, then looks up into Charles’ eyes and realises that he cannot be having a crisis over Charles while Charles is with him. He scrambles for a reason to appease Charles without spilling his guts. Out of his peripheral vision he sees Roscoe eating and— bingo!
“I realised how much I miss him,” he gestures towards Roscoe, “I can't have him travel with me, he would be very miserable on the road with me. I see him far less than I would like. And he's getting older, can you believe he is twelve now? I still remember when he was a tiny little puppy who wouldn't leave my arms, even when he was eating!”
The saddest part is that even though Lewis is using this to disguise why he was looking so shook, everything he said is true. He does miss spending time with Roscoe with all his traveling around the globe and if he could, he would bundle up Roscoe and carry him everywhere.
Charles gives him a sympathising look. “It must be very tough for you to leave him alone. I think it is very tough for Roscoe to leave you alone as well. He loves you, with every bit of his tiny heart.”
Lewis lets out a watery laugh. “You know, years ago when I started to leave him in LA with my friend, he used to hold me tight and whine loudly whenever I had to go. Like this—”
He demonstrates Roscoe's grip on Charles’ hands and smiles sadly. “It used to hurt so much. I think a part of me died every time I had to leave him while he was sad that I was leaving him. He got used to it over the years, but man, those first few times were so hard. I hope he knows that I'm doing this for him, that this is so he has a much better life.”
“He does,” Charles reassures him, shaking their joined hands. “He knows, dogs are very kind. They also are very good at understanding emotions, they know when we're being truthful and if we actually love them. Roscoes knows you love him, that is why he comes running to you everytime he sees you.”
On cue, Lewis feels a tug on his legs and looks down to see Roscoe sitting near his legs after finishing his food. Roscoe places his paws on Lewis’ legs and puts his head on them to gaze up at Lewis and grunt quietly, as if he heard the entire conversation and is now doing his part in reassuring Lewis.
“See!” Charles exclaims, pointing delightedly at Roscoe. “You have nothing to worry about! He knows, he knows everything!”
Lewis laughs and picks up Roscoes to place him on his lap. Charles huddles closer to scratch behind Roscoe's ear, surprisingly hitting the exact spot that makes Roscoe melt on spot. He blinks in confusion at Charles who only smirks and then uses both his hands to rub Roscoe's belly in the exact way he likes.
He stares in bewilderment, the question clear in his eyes. “How… how do you… how do you know?”
Charles shrugs innocently. “I just do. He loves me too, he helped me know.”
And surely enough, Roscoe wiggles around until he gets Charles’ hand exactly where he wants it and grunts for Charles to keep his hand there. Charles smiles warmly and redoubles his effort, whispering praises in all the languages he knows. Roscoe splats with a satisfied bark, resting his head on Lewis while he watches Roscoe and Charles interact.
It is not that Roscoe is a hard dog to please, nor has he ever been particularly antisocial while meeting new people; yet Roscoe doesn't open up to anyone so easily or form a bond with someone so easily, and definitely not at the speed he did with Charles. Granted, Roscoe has been coming to the paddock ever since Charles' debut in F1, and Charles being a dog lover had met him several times even before they became teammates in Ferrari. Since becoming teammates, Charles and Roscoe have met only a handful of times, so for Roscoe to be so enamoured so quickly… Lewis is amazed, that's what he wants to say.
Lewis caresses Roscoe lovingly, thinking of all of this, when his hand brushes against Charles’. Startled, Charles blinks and his little finger darts out to shyly touch Lewis’ hand and flees away just as quickly.
He doesn't want to acknowledge the way his breath stuttered during that fleeting second and he ducks his head to kiss Roscoe. He can hear Charles muffle a laugh behind his hands and he gazes up just in time to see Charles blush, although Charles quickly schools his face when their eyes meet.
Lewis realises with a jolt at how much Roscoe takes after him in social situations. Owing to his experiences over the years in F1, he doesn't have as many friends or close relationships with other drivers. No one could call him rude or unapproachable, but he is certainly reserved, his friendship given to only very few, and that too after a long time.
He is taken aback to know how that hasn't really been the case with Charles. Sure, they had been mere acquaintances till this year but once he had fully dived into the world of Ferrari, they had gotten along like they had been long lost friends who were finally reunited. Charles understands him, his humour, his ambitions and his beliefs in a way no one has. He may not necessarily share them, but Charles respects him enough to acknowledge why he is the way he is.
Even with the burden of the workload and having to get along with someone new, they managed. He might go along to say they are now close friends—and achieving that in a six month time period is a new record for Lewis.
Lewis likes spending time with Charles, whether it be for work or for their innumerous hobbies—some which would shave off a few years from Fred's life—and he likes the way it is easy with Charles. He doesn't have to intensively dissect his words, trying to parse if Charles means what he says. Charles is sweet, kind and every other positive adjective he can think of.
Lewis is still lost in his thoughts of Charles, mentally praising the kind of man he is, when Charles nudges him.
“Hey, LH.” Charles points to Roscoe. “I think he might fall asleep, he may already be. Wanna put him in his bed?”
Roscoe starts snoring and they share a quiet laugh. He gets up to tuck Roscoe in his bed, gives him a kiss and retakes his place beside Charles.
“Thank you for taking care of him today.”
Charles smiles brightly. “It was no problem! He is absolutely lovely, it was no hassle. I liked having him around.”
“I won't argue with that,” he chuckles. “He has always been like that.”
“Not surprised, he is yours after all. He takes after you,” Charles says, playing with the hem of his shirt. “It takes a while to get him to like someone, but when he does, he does it very openly.”
Lewis looks at the ceiling. “Yeah?”
Charles hums. “Yeah. Roscoe… Roscoe is so full of love, you just gotta unlock it. Behind the grumpy face is someone full of sunshine and joy.”
He chances a glance at Charles who looks deep in thought, contemplating his next words.
Charles sniffles and continues, “I can praise him for a long time, you know? I already have, many times. He is the best; very kind, very caring, very beautiful. Very… just… very great.”
Lewis isn't sure they are talking about Roscoe anymore. If he is being optimistic, it sounds like they are talking about him.
He gulps, his voice cracking a little when he replies, “Oh… yes… he is… uh—”
Charles says nothing, closing his eyes and fiddling with his hands.
Lewis is internally screaming, debating with himself on whether Charles means what he thinks he means. He desperately wishes he does because he wants to have Charles say that about him as well. Lewis doesn't fish for compliments, doesn't look for approval from people; but he wishes with all his might that Charles does actually think the best of him.
“I don't think he knows how much I love him,” Charles mumbles, his eyes wide in shock as if he doesn't entirely believe the words came out of his mouth. “Does he, Lewis? Does he know?”
Lewis sits up straighter, staring unabashedly at Charles. He opens his mouth to say something, but his voice betrays him, only a small incomprehensible sound coming out. Charles, red in face, trembling in anxiety and yet he stares defiantly at Lewis, urging him to understand, to read between the lines.
Lewis thinks back on all the time they have spent together, the way Charles had slowly but surely carved a place for himself in Lewis’ life. He remembers everything, piece by piece:
The way Charles stays by his side the entire time he gradually figures out Ferrari.
The helping hand he is always willing to offer.
The interest he has in everything Lewis has to say to him, even if he is half asleep in his seat.
The devastating sentences Charles casually throws his way.
The dimpled smile, the horrendous attempts at winks and all tiny methods of affection that he had misinterpreted as his attempts at friendship.
The late nights, the way they have been inseparable, the way his heart aches whenever they are apart and the relief and happiness he feels whenever he finally sees Charles and talks to him.
Now that he is looking at everything with a different perspective, it all makes sense. His confused feelings of the day, he finally understands why it made his heart skip to see Roscoe accept Charles. Suddenly the teasing winks and the sly looks from the team make sense.
Holy fucking hell! I love him! And he loves me back!
“Oh my fucking God!” Lewis exclaims, slapping his forehead. “Oh my God, I didn't… I'm stupid!”
Charles giggles, “Hey! That's my line!”
Lewis laughs along, helpless against Charles’ joy. He leans ahead into their shared space, grabbing both of Charles’ hands in his and brings them up to place a sheepish kiss on each palm. “I love you too!”
Charles stops laughing abruptly, looks at him with the love in his eyes that Lewis can finally see and smiles. “And of course, I love you.”
Lewis sees how it isn't a groundbreaking moment for Charles, how he had seen it all coming. “You already knew, didn't you? About your own feelings and mine.”
A small smirk appears on Charles’ face. “Your face cannot lie for shit. Your emotions are very visible on your face if one knows how to look for them. I knew what I felt, I wasn't sure what you felt for a long time. You are shockingly bad at feelings and emotions!”
“Hey!” he protests. “I… am… never mind. You're right, I am. I'm glad I figured it out.”
“With me literally using my love for your son as a way to tell you about my love for you!” Charles laughs, thinking back on their conversations from a few minutes ago. “I don't know what else I could have done if you didn't pick up on it.”
“I was getting there… maybe,” he says sheepishly. “I was having thoughts, I only didn't know what exactly they were. Luckily you ran out of patience.”
Charles rolls his eyes, glaring half heartedly at him. “Lewis, I basically told you this morning that I was waiting for you at the entrance and then actually told you that my day is better now that I've seen you. I don't see how much more you need!”
He scratches his neck in embarrassment. “I must admit… that was pretty stupid of me. But! What matters is, we're here! And I finally caught up.”
Charles nods and Lewis doesn't restrain himself anymore, he grabs Charles’ face with both hands and brings him into a kiss. Charles makes a surprised wheeze that he swallows and then Charles relaxes entirely in his hold, leaning back against the sofa to pull Lewis on top of him. He groans in response and then he gets lost in the plushness of Charles’ mouth.
They resurface from the bubble they had made around themselves only when there is a loud banging on his door. “LEWIS! CHARLES! TIME TO LEAVE! GET OUT!”
Lewis stares down at Charles, who looks thoroughly wrecked and is currently eyeing Lewis with a telltale glint in his eyes.
He smiles. “Come to my house with me?”
Charles simply nods, pushing at Lewis to get him off and stands up to make himself presentable. Lewis can't help but watch him, winking when the attention makes Charles flush.
He shrugs. “Hey, I'm allowed now!”
Charles laughs. “Okay loverboy. Time to go before they bust open the door.”
This time he doesn't question it when Charles carries Roscoe on their way, he simply picks up his and Charles’ bags to take them to his car.