Chapter Text
The sun was still rising over Monaco’s coastline, staining the harbour a beautiful array of colours, as Charles Leclerc made his way out of his bedroom and into the general living area of his apartment in Fontvieille, Pierre trailing dutifully behind him.
The pair of them stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, Pierre beginning a fruitless search for coffee while Charles simply poured himself a glass of water, gulping it down. His throat felt like sandpaper, a struggle he blamed entirely on the paracetamol everyone had been so determined to have him take yesterday. Admittedly, it had helped with the searing pain in his ribs – not that he would ever admit it.
“Charles, où est le café?” Pierre asked almost desperately.
The thing was, Charles didn’t really drink coffee. Oh, he would choke back a cup of it now and then for the caffeine content, but he certainly didn’t rely on the stuff to survive the same way Pierre seemingly did. Regardless, he always made sure that he had some of Pierre’s favourite coffee on hand and he even kept a coffee machine tucked away for Pierre’s visits.
“Il n'y a pas de café,” Charles responded softly, apologetic. “J'en ai acheté hier, mais…”
But the coffee was strewn somewhere along a Monte Carlo sidewalk, along with the rest of his groceries. Entirely forgotten until this moment, when he couldn’t even give Pierre one thing to make his day better, when Pierre had literally dropped everything and driven hours to –
“Respire, Charles,” Pierre soothed, suddenly right in front of him. “Ce n'est que du café - je peux obtenir une tasse lorsque nous allons à l'hôpital.”
Pierre was right – objectively, Charles knew that – but the thing was, he shouldn’t have to. Charles should have these things, should have been prepared –
“Va t'asseoir et détends-toi,” Pierre sighed. “Je vais voir ce que je peux trouver ici pour le petit-déjeuner.”
Charles sighed, accepting defeat and a lingering hug before he pulled away and made his way into the living room, fully intending to plop down on the couch and wallow in self-pity until Pierre inevitably abandoned his search altogether and joined him.
Only to stop short.
Because Sebastian Vettel was still fast asleep on his couch. Which, okay – Charles should have expected that. Except, he had sort of forgotten that Sebastian had stayed the night, and would likely have slept on the couch, since Charles had a foggy, sleep-riddled memory of the older man carrying an equally sleepy Arthur to the spare bedroom at some point.
The more surprising thing was that Arthur was also asleep on the couch, wrapped around Sebastian like a particularly clingy –
“Il est comme toi, un petit calamar,” Pierre observed drily, from where he had silently come up to stand at Charles’ shoulder.
As if sensing that the pair was openly staring at them, Sebastian chose that moment to slowly blink awake, his blue eyes almost immediately finding Charles’ green ones.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Charles drawled, leaning back into Pierre as he spoke. The result was that he felt – more than heard – Pierre’s rumbling laugh as they watched Sebastian blink slowly in confusion, before his eyes widened and a sort of startled realization appeared on his face.
Arthur, blissfully unaware, slept on.
“He – he had a nightmare and he was smashing around the kitchen,” Sebastian hurried to explain. Despite his obvious desire to explain, he kept his voice low and soft, careful not to disturb Arthur.
Charles bit back a laugh because he was fully aware that nothing untoward had happened on that couch – it wasn’t in Sebastian’s nature (he was a consummate romantic and entirely enamoured with his wife), nor was it uncommon for Arthur to simply sleep pretty much everywhere and anywhere. Pierre may have been joking earlier, but he wasn’t wrong. Arthur was just as, if not more, clingy than Charles, especially when he was sleepy.
Still, Charles wasn’t going to let the older man off that easily.
He so rarely got to play at being the protective big brother – usually, Lorenzo was around to do that when the chance arose.
“So, what?” Charles queried seriously, doing his best to ignore the way Pierre was shaking with silent laughter behind him. “You invited him to sleep with you?”
Pierre lost his battle with laughter, tucking his face into Charles’ neck as he cackled at the scandalized expression on Sebastian’s face.
“Tais-toi ou je vais lui dire que toi et Pierre couchez ensemble,” Arthur grumbled sleepily.
The reaction was immediate. Pierre went from cackling gleefully to choking on his own spit, pulling away from Charles as his face turned bright red. Charles didn’t fare much better – he could feel his own face heating up as he scrambled to put together a coherent response, but ended up simply gaping like a startled fish instead.
Sebastian sighed.
“I do not want to know,” Sebastian announced to the room at large. “Not now, and preferably not ever.”
When it became obvious that Charles and Pierre were still incapable of speech, Sebastian sighed again and turned his attention towards the youngest Leclerc, who was doing his best to appear as though he had fallen back to sleep.
“Arthur, we do need to get up,” Sebastian reasoned. “I need to take your brother to the hospital.”
Arthur blinked awake at that, dropping the ruse – just so that he could pout childishly up at the older man.
Charles would have laughed at the sight, if he wasn’t simultaneously plotting his brother’s painful demise and his own escape. Unfortunately, Pierre noticed the way he tensed at the mention of the hospital, and had wrapped him up in a full-body restraint masquerading as a hug, chin resting innocently on Charles’ shoulder.
“Tu vas te rendre à l'hôpital avec Sébastian,” Pierre suggested softly. “Pendant que vous êtes là, Arthur et moi allons préparer le petit déjeuner.”
It was not a bad idea, as much as it aggrieved Charles to admit it. His ribs were still aching painfully, and while his headache had ebbed after a good night’s sleep, he was beginning to suspect that at least the cut above his eye needed stitches.
“Fine,” Charles agreed begrudgingly, turning his attention back towards his brother and Sebastian. The latter had managed to bully Arthur into an upright position, allowing Sebastian to finally push to his feet. The German groaned as he stood, a hand going to his lower back, but a moment later he dropped his hand in favour of reaching for his overnight bag.
“I will change and then we can go, yes?”
Charles nodded moodily, resigned to his fate since Pierre seemed intent on holding him hostage and Sebastian seemed determined to take him to the hospital. Honestly, Arthur was the only one not currently conspiring against him, but Charles was still mad a him too.
Which he made sure to vocalize the moment the bathroom door was closed behind Sebastian.
“Il comprend un peu le français, imbécile!” Charles snapped at his brother.
Arthur merely blinked innocently at him.
“Je ne savais pas que le fait que tu couches avec Pierre était un secret,” Arthur demurred.
And… what?
Behind him, Pierre was laughing again, but Charles could barely manage a choked, spluttering noise before Arthur continued, as breezy and innocent as he had ever managed.
“Je sais que tu n'as pas répondu à Lorenzo lorsqu'il a demandé,” Arthur admitted. “Mais c'est évident pour tout le monde autour de vous deux.”
“Sauve-moi,” Charles pleaded instead of responding to his little brother.
Pierre just kept laughing against his back, but Sebastian chose that moment to reappear, looking refreshed in new, slightly rumpled clothes, his overnight bag in hand. He took one look at the scenario before him – Charles red-faced and floundering, Pierre cackling at his back, and Arthur looking entirely too pleased with himself – and decided that it was time to go.
“We will take my car,” Sebastian announced as he herded Charles towards the door. “Do not worry – it has the Bluetooth, so you can listen to your señorita stuff, yes?”
Charles barely had time to protest before Sebastian was basically putting his shoes on for him and practically shoving him out the door, shouting a quick goodbye to both Pierre and Arthur as they made their way to the parking garage and into Sebastian’s car.
Thankfully, the trip to the hospital was quick, Sebastian flashing quick smiles and subtly flirting with various staff to get Charles seen quickly and efficiently. Charles suspected he may also have told a nurse or two that Charles was a flight risk, given the way they kept standing between him and the doors, but overall, the visit wasn’t terrible.
At least his ribs weren’t broken.
They were mostly just badly bruised, with one confirmed to have been cracked. The doctor had advised that Charles avoid intense workouts and playing contact sports for the time being, but had also said moving and breathing as close to normally was an important part of his recovery.
Explaining that, along with the newly stitched cut above his eye, to Andrea was going to be fun. He’d hoped to avoid the entire thing, but apparently fate was not in his favour.
“He will not be mad at you,” Sebastian reasoned as he drove them back to Charles’ apartment.
“This will ruin all the workout plans he has already made,” Charles grumbled. “And probably my meal plan will have to be changed too.”
“Andrea has been your trainer – and your friend – for years, Charles,” Sebastian pointed out. “It is very unlikely that this is what finally pushes him over the edge.”
Charles grumbled incoherently, unwilling to concede the point, but unable to continue an argument for which he had no valid points. Deep down, he knew Andrea wouldn’t be mad that he was injured – he was more likely to be upset that Charles had not immediately called him. That, or he’d be bemoaning the fact that he hadn’t had the opportunity to murder Charles’ attackers himself.
Andrea still blamed himself for the whole stolen watch debacle, after all.
Charles pouted in silence as Sebastian parked the car, the rumble of the engine dying also cutting off his music – Harry Styles’ As it Was, just to annoy Seb – pointedly ignoring the German as if that would somehow mean he had won their argument.
“Come on,” Sebastian sighed. “Breakfast first, then you can call Andrea. And maybe your mother too.”
“Absolutely not.”
Sebastian merely rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond, before getting out of the car. Charles followed him back towards his own apartment like a sullen puppy, fully aware that he was pouting and practically stomping his feet.
“Why is Charles throwing a tantrum?” Pierre asked sarcastically as the pair re-entered the flat.
“Because I told him he has to call Andrea and his mother,” Sebastian responded flippantly, heading straight for the kitchen. Charles followed, glower still firmly in place, to find that his – Pierre and Arthur had been busy while they’d been gone. There were fresh crêpes and fruit, as well as juice and coffee, spread along the countertop, along with the leftover pastries from the previous day.
Pierre snagged Charles’ wrist as he tried to slip by him, pulling the Monegasque back against his chest. Charles went easily. He was grumpy, and hurting, but neither of things would ever really be enough to force him to push Pierre away.
“Veux-tu que je les appelle?” Pierre asked softly.
“Non, je le ferai,” Charles sighed. “C'est juste... Je n'aime pas les inquiéter. Surtout maman.”
Pierre pulled him closer, hugging him tight so that only Charles could hear the next words he breathed into his ear, quiet as could be.
“Je sais, mon amour.”
Arthur mimed gagging from somewhere behind them, finally causing the two to pull apart so that Charles could turn the full power of his glare towards his younger brother.
“Fais attention, connard,” Charles threatened. “Je n'ai pas oublié ce que tu as dit ce matin.”
Arthur opened his mouth – likely to say something else wildly offensive or inflammatory – only to have Sebastian slap a hand over it.
“No murder before breakfast,” the older man announced. “Eat – everything will look better once you are no longer hungry.”
So, with the mid-day sun shining brightly over Monaco’s coastline, setting the harbour ablaze in a glimmering array of colours, Charles Leclerc sat down to eat breakfast with his former teammate, his brother, and his bes – boyfriend. Charles still desperately wished that the previous day had never happened, that he hadn’t had to worry those he loved the most once again. But he had, and they were here, and he was so desperately grateful for it – for them.