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Published:
2021-06-08
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2021-06-14
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3,132
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2/2
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Happy Father's Day

Summary:

“It’s a Father’s Day present,” he offers, and before Max can ask anything, he taps the fragile wrapping, “I bought it for Seb.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t think I can give it to him.”

“Why not?”

 

Or...

 

Charles struggles with wanting to wish Sebastian Happy Father's Day, Max gets some advice from his rival/crush and Sebastian is the sweetest dad in the paddock.

Notes:

I wrote this in a day because i suffer from Dad Seb Syndrome. This has very light lestappen so I'm sorry if ya'll were looking for some heavy stuff. Enjoy!

p.s its kinda messy so please go easy on me

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Oh darlin'

Chapter Text

Don't know if words can say
But darlin' i'll find a way
To let you know what you meant to me
Guess it was meant to be
I hold you in my heart
As life's most precious part

- Darlin' by The Beach Boys

 

They’re sitting down for dinner, a little place with an Asian fusion cuisine. The place is bathed in golden light and the soft clinking of cutleries against plates mixed with the white noise of distant conversations makes Charles feel relaxed.

 

He can finally breathe after that all that chaos in Baku.

 

Fourth was not bad, but the team had the potential to do better. Seeing the pinched look on Carlos’s face as he tiredly did his PR duties did not help. All Charles could offer him was a pitying smile and a pat on the back.

 

He looks up at the person in front of him, who is slowly arranging the different types of food into sections on his plate before he can truly dig in.

 

Sebastian looks at peace now, his brow isn’t huddled together in a slight frown that worried Charles constantly. His shoulders are at ease and there seems to be a spot of a smile gracing his lips.

 

Sebastian looks up at him and his eyes crinkle, forming the little ripples that accustom him so well. When you think of smile lines that form at the eyes; you think of Sebastian.

 

“Is there a reason you keep staring?”

 

Charles jolts and casts his eyes down as he laughs nervously. How do you tell your ex-teammate that you miss him? You miss him and his stupid jokes that made the air feel lighter. You miss his advice, which is something you could've used in your fairly new relationship. 

 

He missed the little jabs too, and the talks they would have late in the evening that would help Charles in maneuvering life as Ferrari's Golden Boy.

 

‘Ferrari’s Golden Boy’ was something Sebastian had coined jokingly after he left that made Charles feel as if he was on cloud nine. Any good word from him was tucked carefully into the little pockets of his heart. 

 

“Nothing… I’m just tired.”

 

Sebastian offers him the Patented Dad Smile and gestures at him with a fork, “You should be, you drove exceptionally well. I saw the highlights, especially the last two laps.”

 

Charles’s heart grows three sizes and he grins widely, soaking up the praise.

 

“I could’ve pressured Pierre more but I didn’t want to risk sending the car into the barriers.”

 

“I know.” Sebastian nods, eating some rice, “Its what I would’ve done.”

 

The best praise Charles had ever gotten from him was when Sebastian admitted that he saw his old self in Charles. The young boy who owned the track with his elbows out, wild smile and tough moves. 

 

“How does P2 feel?” Charles laughs, “A podium before me!”

 

“I told you it would happen! Didn’t I tell you?”

 

His smile is so big he can hardly see through the crack in his eyes, “You did.”

 

Sebastian hums and continues eating, as Charles’s smile dwindles slowly.

 

He really does miss Seb.

 

He remembers his Papa lecturing him about teammates. About how they can end up being your friends, or the person you look forward to beating the most. He never told Charles about what would happen if your teammate became someone who you gave a Father’s Day present to.

 

 

 

-Last year-

 

Charles wrings his hands together, his sweaty palms betraying the calm expression he has on. They’re all having dinner downstairs in the hotel’s restaurant while he’s cooped up in his room, staring at the present that’s sitting patiently on the dressing table.

 

He swallows and closes his eyes, a nervous tic in his left eye had sprung up, causing it to twitch ever so slightly.

 

He looks like a proper mess.

 

How could he even think about giving Sebastian a Father’s Day present? He probably couldn’t even tolerate Charles deep down.

 

Not to mention the crippling guilt he feels towards his Papa. He knows his father would be happy that he isn’t swimming in his thoughts of grief, but instead paddling up slowly, trying to open up his heart a little more.

 

‘I miss you’, he thinks, ‘je t'aime Papa.’

 

He eyes the crudely wrapped present. He had gotten Sebastian a 17:1 model scale of the 1983 Ferrari 126 C3 Formula One car. He knew Sebastian loved the old classic cars and had even told interviewers that he would’ve loved to drive one someday.

 

Charles had spent hours meticulously swiping through his phone to find the right model. He even bought red wrapping paper to match it and wrapped it himself, topped off with a card.

 

Somehow, it looks like roadkill that had been run over several times.

 

His mind was running when he heard a firm knock at the door. Quickly, Charles swipes the present and hides it under the bed. It was probably a poor team member sent up to call him down. He was almost late to dinner.

 

What he didn’t expect when he swung the door open was Max Verstappen’s face staring back at him.

 

The tips of Charles’s ears turn red and his eyes widen comically. Charles Leclerc was supposed to be suave and charming, not the awkward, bumbling mess that he’s about to be.

 

Sure, he’s entertained the idea of waking up next to Max in a mess of sheets and pillows, but that doesn’t mean anything. It just means that he respects his fellow rival.

 

No such thing as a crush.

 

“Hi,” Max smiles.

 

Okay, maybe a little crush.

 

“Hi,” Charles echoes back, “Is everything alright?”

 

Max rubs the back of his neck, which in turn flexes his bicep, not that Charles was looking.

 

“I didn’t know where to go and I…” Max trails off, looking lost and small in the hotel corridor. “Can I come in?”

 

Charles wordlessly steps aside and lets Max through, the door closing with a soft ‘click’ behind them.

 

Charles gestures to the lone bed and Max takes a tentative seat, teetering off the edge of the bed. He isn’t wearing any team gear, instead opting to dress in a cream-coloured polo and dress pants. He even let his hair fall onto his forehead, devoid of the gel that holds it up like a fortress.

 

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it almost immediately, as if the words are stuck in his throat.

 

Charles sits down across from him in an armchair, their knees inches away from knocking into each other.

 

Max looks up at him and blinks, “Did your parents ever make you feel like you aren’t enough?”

 

He seemed to tense immediately after saying those words, as if he was afraid someone else would hear him.

 

‘Wow.’ He thinks. ‘Walked in and dropped a bomb.”

 

 Charles leans forward and cocks his head to the side.

 

“They-“ he contemplated lying, wanting to relate to Max in order to make him feel better, but something tells him to stop. “They never did. They told me I was more than enough.” He hums softly, “That’s what parents are supposed to do.”

 

Max seemed to flinch at that, and Charles’s nails dig into his palms. He’s known Jos for as long as he’s known Max.

 

The man was honestly his least favourite person in the world.

 

He remembers being 13 and Jos Verstappen stomping up to him, fists curled at his side. He then shouted, warning Charles to stay away from his son with his ‘bullshit driving style’ that should not be allowed on track.

 

His Papa had tried to calm him down, but Jos had simply continued to shake his fists at a pre-pubescent Charles.

 

He had caught Max staring at him from afar that day, his lips wobbling and his eyes wide.

 

Years later he finds out that Jos had left Max by the side of a road, free to walk home all alone in the dark.

 

Now, he stares at the man himself, who’s sitting like a stone on his bed.

 

“Max,” he implores, “What happened?”

 

There’s a pause before he dives into an answer, “Dad said I wasn’t his son, because I never do enough.” His voice cracks at the last second, his shoulders slumping, "Because I'm not enough."

 

Wasting no time, Charles places a firm hand on Max’s knee. “You know that isn’t true.”

 

He gets no response.

 

“You’re leading the championship, Max,” His grip tightens, “If that’s not enough, then Jos needs to fuck off.”

 

Max snorts quietly and Charles counts that as a win. He continues on;

 

“Was he ever enough for you Max? He’s hardly your friend, let alone your father.”

 

“He’s doing his best.”

 

“He really isn’t,” Charles whispers.  

 

Max inhales sharply, as if he’s scared of his father popping up from under the bed.

 

“You need to stop using him to measure how good you are.”

 

They’re both quiet for what could have been several minutes when Max chokes out a silent, “Thank you.”

 

Charles releases his hold on his knee and sighs, “You should give him a middle finger for Father’s Day today.”

 

Max jerks and looks at him. His eyes wide and he sputters, “Today is Father’s Day? Oh God mate, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you today. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Its okay,” he says, looking down at his socks, “I’m okay.”

 

“Sorry,” Max whispers.

 

Charles ignores it and reaches for the present under the bed. He pulls it out and places it on his lap. Big eyes stare at him from the bed, questions floating around behind his blue eyes.

 

“It’s a Father’s Day present,” he offers, and before Max can ask anything he taps the fragile wrapping, “I bought it for Seb.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“I don’t think I can give it to him.”

 

“Why not?”

 

His lips thin and he squeezes the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think he sees himself like that. I don’t think he sees me as someone who looks up to him as a father figure I guess.”

 

“Seriously?” Max’s voice is hardened, “He literally loves you. Are you that much of an idiot?”

 

Charles grins and shrugs, “I just… I want him to like it.”

 

“He’ll like anything you get him. Even if you got him some ugly sneakers he’d probably still wear them.”

 

Charles giggles, his face warm and red probably. He does not wish to look in a mirror right now.

 

Max stands up and brushes imaginary crumbs off his shirt. “I-“

 

He looks up at Max, waiting.

 

“Thank you,” he admits. “It means a lot to me. More that you know.”

 

Charles nods and they both walk towards the door. Max turns towards the last second and gives him a weird smile, one that seemed a little too big for his face. He could stare at it all day.

 

“Tell me how it goes?”

 

“Okay,” Charles laughs.

 

And with that, Max is gone.

Chapter 2: Darlin' you're so fine

Summary:

Sebastian and Charles celebrate Father's day

Notes:

Enjoy some pure fluff! (I'm incapable of writing anything else)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Not wanting to lose anymore time, he grabs the present, pats his hair down and slips into his shoes. He holds the present by his waist as he walks down towards the restaurant.

 

He sees the table where he’s supposed to sit and slides down into the empty seat beside Sebastian.

 

“Finally decided to show up?” Sebastian chuckles, patting him on the back.

 

He wants to say something, but his throat closes up and if he even tries to speak it would probably release a dam of tears right there and then.

 

So, he sits there gaping like a fish as Sebastian stares in concern.

 

“Charles, is everything alri-“

 

Sebastian is stopped mid-sentence as Charles shoves the package into his chest. He holds it there until his teammate gently take a hold of it, his hand carrying it with the upmost care.

 

“What’s this?” He asks softly.

 

His eyes start to sting but he barrels through, looking down into his lap and away from Sebastian’s stare.

 

“A present.”

 

This elicits a small laugh out of him, “I know that, but what for?”

 

Charles stays silent. He can’t even explain and he want to scream at how pathetic he’s being when Sebastian places the gift on the table and scoots his chair closer to him so that they have their own little bubble of conversation.

 

Again, he asks ever so softly, “What’s this, Charles?”

 

“Father’s Day,” he manages to get out, his voice cracked and small.

 

He’s frozen in his chair as his head stays down, eyes glued towards the ground. He can’t even run at this point.

 

“Charles,” Sebastian encourages, “Look at me.”

 

He looks up and is greeted with Sebastian staring at him with watery eyes, before he’s being pulled into a rough hug.

 

He hugs so tightly that his hands pull at Sebastian’s jacket, fingers balled up into a fist. It’s a little awkward since they’re both sitting down but Charles hasn’t felt this warm and happy in a long time. As cliché as it might be, he doesn’t want to let go.

 

“Happy Father’s Day,” he whispers.

 

Sebastian pulls away and Charles sniffles, messily rubbing at his nose while he lets out a wet laugh.

 

“Oh, you little rascal,” he ruffles Charles’s hair and offers him a tissue that materialized out of nowhere.

 

“Thank you,” he blows into the tissue loudly.

 

Sebastian looks at him with a mix disgust and adoration and pulls him into another hug. This time he can hear sniffling coming from his teammates end.

 

“Thank you, Charles,” he says thickly, his accent becoming more prominent, “Thank you.”

 

They both pull apart and Sebastian joking prods the parcel. “You wrapped it yourself!”

 

“I did,” he answers sheepishly.

 

They spend the next ten minutes playing a guessing game of what’s inside before Sebastian opens it carefully, not wanting to tear the wrapping.  

 

He laughs happily when he pulls out the model and squeezes Charles into another hug, their dinner forgotten.

 

 

-Now-

 

Charles swallows his food, not really paying it any attention as he enjoys the moment with Sebastian.

 

Between having different teams, being in a new relationship, and the races, he hardly has time to sit and relax with him.

 

He still hasn’t told Sebastian about Max. He isn’t exactly scared, no. A more accurate word would be; embarrassed. Charles knows Sebastian would sit Max down and have a talk with him. Or, maybe he wouldn’t even approve.

 

Oh God.

 

He needs to steel himself for the oncoming barrage of questions and tells Sebastian that he needs a quick trip to the men’s room.

 

Once there, he splashes water onto his face and groans loudly. There would be no way of putting this off. Charles doesn’t want to ruin the perfect evening he’s having. If Sebastian were to be disappointed, he would regret it forever.

 

If this caused distance between them; Charles would never forgive himself.

 

Calm down. He chides himself. It’s Seb, he’d ruffle your hair and call you his kid no matter what.

 

 

- - - - -

 

 

Sebastian taps his foot against the leg of the table, humming Darlin’ by The Beach Boys under his breath. He feels warm and at ease, finally getting to catch up with Charles.

 

Charles, who seems a little jittery tonight but he’s glad to see him none the less.

 

The kid needs to give himself a break every once in a while.

 

The humming stops as his phone starts buzzing, a couple of texts messages being received.

 

He glances at his phone.

 

 

Max Verstappen :

Has he told you yet?

He said he was gonna do it tonight haha

 

 

Sebastian grins and opens up WhatsApp, typing back quickly.

 

 

Sebastian Vettel :

No. He seemed very nervous and ran to the bathroom. He probably went in there to touch up or do whatever you kids do in toilets nowadays. 

 

 

Max Verstappen :

I told him it wasn’t a big deal

 

 

Sebastian smiles and lets out a small laugh through his nose. They really were made for each other. 

 

 

Sebastian Vettel :

It might be a big deal to him.

 

 

Max Verstappen :

Yeah, cuz its you mate. He loves you like you hung the moon

 

 

His smile grows, and so does the warm feeling through his chest.

 

 

Sebastian Vettel :

I don’t think that’s how the saying goes but, I’m flattered. I’m glad he has you.

 

 

Max Verstappen :

I’m glad he has you dude. Update me when its over 😜

 

 

Kids and their God-forsaken emojis, or emoticons. Whatever they’re called. Charles abuses his keyboard when he sends his messages and he often chides the him on his use of them. The first time he complained about the emojis, Charles had simply taken his phone and changed his contact’s name.

 

Sebastian opens up their chat and is greeted with an assault on his eyes.

 

 

Charles ❤️🏎️

I found a stray cat!! 🐈😍😍😱

 

 

If he hides a small smile behind his hand, no one but him would know.

 

He suddenly hears the chair in front of him being pulled back and Charles settles into it once again.

 

Sebastian offers him a wider smile and he can see Charles visibly relax. Wasting no time at all, the kid spits out the secret he’s been harbouring for weeks; “I’m dating Verstappen.”

 

It took all of Sebastian’s willpower not to bark out a laugh. “I know.”

 

A second later the whole restaurant is staring at them after Charles had shouted a rather loud ‘what’.

 

“Sorry,” he hisses, “What?”

 

Sebastian pats him across the hand, “You’re not exactly subtle,”

 

“But I…” He was sputtering now, confused as ever.

 

“You make a good couple. Strong.” He wants Charles to know that he is more than okay with it.

 

“Seb…”

 

“I’m proud of you.”

 

Charles’s face burns bright red, but its no contest to the blinding smile plastered on his face. It means that the little shit is happy, and that makes him happy in return.

 

“Do I need to give you the safe sex talk?”

 

Charles yelps, shaking his head violently, “No, there’s no need!”

 

“Are you sure? I’m very experienced in this field.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Lewis taught me a lot.”

 

“No!” Charles squeals, “And don’t talk about your sex life with Lewis to me, I don’t want to hear it.”

 

“Aww,” Sebastian pouts. He clicks his tongue twice, “That’s too bad.”

 

Although their plates are long licked clean, and the restaurants patrons are slowly decreasing, they both sit there together, giggling about everything there is to be talked about.

 

 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

Roughly 4000 kilometres away in Switzerland on Sebastian’s fridge, sits several drawings from his kids. A supposed red fiat 500 drawn by his two year old son, a chicken by his youngest daughter, a seaside landscape by his eldest daughter and a Father’s Day card by his 23 year old son.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Seb and Lewis please adopt me.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this! I hope it brought you even the tiniest fraction of joy that I felt while writing it <3. Its so messy but i had fun!

p.s. all mistakes are mine

Notes:

This is unbetaed so all mistakes are mine!
Sebastian being a dad feels like a big warm hug theres no other way to describe it.