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Very special, high priority guest in the garage today. Please keep in mind what we went through in the meeting. Lando wrinkles his nose when he sees the message from the PR representative. Over the weeks and months, the team has had their fair share of guests, celebrities and non-celebrities alike visit the garage, though their visits were more like them loitering like shadows. Not that Lando had a specific dislike for these visits, but the pattern of smiling and making idle conversation with people got a bit tiring after a while.
He'd heard the rumors about this round of visits, of course. Since they were in Monte Carlo, the presence of the royal family was expected. What surprised him more, however, was the fact that actual members of the royal family wanted to tour the pit lane and have an up close and personal look at each of the teams. Even more intriguing was that one of the princes was a known fan of the sport, but never really had the opportunity to come up close and personal with the sportsmen themselves. Royal protocol and national safety and all.
As long as the security handle didn't need to do an extensive check, or make them hand over their phones or something, Lando would be okay with it. He has some free time, so he thumbs through his phone, scrolling through the Wikipedia page of the Monegasque royal family.
His Serene Highness Charles Leclerc, the page reads. The older son of the crown prince and heir apparent, not that those titles really mattered nowadays. Interestingly, though being a noted fan of the sport, he'd never been known to have dabbled in it, let alone tried getting in the seat of the car.
"Whose Instagram are you ogling now?" Lando almost falls off the table he was sitting on when a familiar voice shakes him from his brief distraction in reading the prince's Wikipedia page.
"Fuck, I almost fell," Lando mumbles as he turns to see the bright smile of his teammate.
Daniel clasps him on the shoulder, glancing over to have a peek at his phone. "Ah, I see you're trying to scope out our very special guest,” he hums, chewing on the straw of his bottle.
“Kinda,” Lando sighs. “Especially since I might be the one giving him the grand tour. It’s gonna be filmed for Unboxed too.”
Daniel grins— no, smirks. “Would you rather I take over then?”
Lando waves him off. “No, it’s okay,” he drawls.
Daniel nods, the smirk still not leaving his face. “Point taken,” he says cryptically, and Lando looks back at him with narrowed eyes before walking out of the garage.
It's a balmy day in Monte Carlo, and Lando thinks he's quite done with the heat at this point. He pushes his hair back with his hand, the race suit feeling more like a leathery second skin in this weather. Not the best feeling. Eventually, he gives up, unzipping the suit halfway. Now that was much better.
He takes a stroll down the pit lane, only vaguely paying attention to the comings and goings of the other teams and getting a bit lost in his own thoughts, when he collides with something.
“Oof, gosh, I am so sorry,” the stranger says in heavily accented English. “I should have watched where I was going.”
Lando looks up, squinting in the hot sun. He blinks back at the stranger, who was wearing a bright red Ferrari cap and casual clothes which suited the weather. It made him slightly envious. However, he also doesn’t recall seeing this guy on the paddock before, it would be very difficult to miss out the face of someone who looked like that, after all.
“S’okay, mate,” Lando manages a cordial smile. “It happens.”
The stranger smiles back, and if Lando feels himself just go a little bit weak in the knees, he will chalk it up to the Monaco summer heat.
“Norris, is that right?” the stranger says with a nod. Lando nods back, trying not to stare too hard into the stranger’s eyes.
“The one and only,” Lando replies with a hint of his usual cheekiness. “Would you like an autograph?”
The stranger glances up towards the front of his cap and laughs, to which Lando thinks what an interesting sound. He also does not take notice of how the stranger’s eyes crinkled when he smiled in a very disarming way. He certainly does not.
“Maybe later,” the stranger shrugs. “I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Norris,” he says, extending a hand to shake.
“Lando is just fine, uh—”
“Charlie,” the stranger says after a moment’s pause. “I’m Charlie.”
“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” Lando says with a wide smile. “See you around.”
The stranger grins, and tips his cap toward Lando before turning to leave, heading towards a man standing in the distance wearing sunglasses. Lando watches curiously, now wondering even more who this good looking Ferrari cap-wearing stranger was. Perhaps a famous model or something, he thinks, if the guy had someone following him.
As he makes the stroll back to his own garage, Lando wonders if he’ll get to see Charlie again. Maybe, if he got the chance, perhaps have a longer conversation. He’ll have to think of something new to talk about. There was always Instagram if he needed, though he’d probably have to check while Daniel wasn’t paying attention, or he’d be teased to kingdom come.
Lando is pretty much ambushed when he returns to the McLaren garage.
“You’re back just in time,” one of the team members nudges him in the shoulder, pushing him forward. “Our special guest is about to arrive.”
“Just tell me where to stand and what I need to do,” he whispers as he hears muffled voices coming from the entrance. A group of security guards in suits and sunglasses pause at the front, parting to make way for someone. Lando squints, his vision obscured by the rest of the team members, but after some of them move aside, he nearly gasps out loud.
Charlie? What was he doing there?
This time, Charlie was no longer wearing the Ferrari cap. It appeared that he had swapped it out for a bright orange one.
“Charlie?” he mutters under his breath, still very confused.
“Welcome, your Serene Highness,” Zak’s resonant voice cuts through Lando’s thoughts. “It is truly an honor.”
“No, no, I am very happy to be here. Please, everyone, be at ease,” and Lando tries not to let his jaw fall agape when he hears the familiar accented English of the stranger he’d literally just met earlier outside wearing a Ferrari cap.
Of course, no one in the garage can truly be at ease, seeing the number of security detail and staffers who had accompanied him.
Charlie? A royal? Lando was still trying to do the math in his head.
Lando finds himself being pushed forward towards where Zak was standing. “Lando, greet the prince,” Zak whispers into his ear. He’ll have to find time to faint later. Now was a bad time, seeing that they were surrounded by cameras.
“Your Highness,” Lando manages to smile as widely as he can, hoping that Charlie couldn’t see his mouth trembling.
“Mr. Norris,” Charlie says with a twinkle in his eye. “A pleasure.”
Zak nudges Lando in the shoulder again. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll show you around,” he says, before gesturing with his hand for Charlie to go ahead. He pretends that he cannot see Daniel standing nearby with the widest shit eating grin on his face, winking at him.
As Lando and Charlie walk side by side, Charlie leans closer to whisper. “Hey,” he says, his breath tickling Lando’s ear.
Lando looks back at him, before whispering back with a forced smile. “I’m sorry, I really had no idea who you were,” and Charlie just laughs softly.
“No offence taken. I should have told you, though. Dressed like this, it would have been hard for you to tell.” The word that comes to Lando’s mind when he sees Charlie’s smile is sweet, though he quickly shoves away that thought.
From the others’ perspectives, it just looked like the both of them were having polite conversation, and in fact not clarifying the true identity of the other.
Lando shows him around, covering whatever acceptable detail as he was briefed, and Charlie looks to be enjoying himself, so some of the stress fades away.
The tour ends as quickly as it begins.
“All the best for the race,” Charlie says to Lando, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’ll be cheering for you.”
As soon as Charlie and his entourage vacate the garage, Lando leans against a nearby wall, feeling like he could breathe a bit more.
“Well, that was very smooth,” Daniel comes up to him. “It’s as though you’ve met before.”
Lando’s eyes dart up towards Daniel. He clears his throat. “We, uh, kinda did, earlier,” he mumbles.
“Wait, no kidding. You met a prince of Monaco?” Daniel’s eyes widen.
Lando nods slowly. “Yeah, but I had no idea. He also didn’t tell me exactly who he was.” His voice trails off. “There was no photo on the Wikipedia page either,” he blurts.
“Sounds like something I’ve seen on TV,” Daniel laughs. “Will I be getting a free show later?” he asks, and Lando shoves him good-naturedly in the shoulder.
“Shut up.”
The race, with all its twists and turns, ends well for Lando on the podium. He’s over the moon, of course, and he almost forgets that some of the trophies were going to be presented by members of the royal family themselves.
He’s not sure if Charlie — no, Charles, was originally supposed to be the one handing him the trophy, or he’d pulled some strings in between. No, too much like a cliched movie, he thinks.
“Congratulations, Lando,” Charles mouths at him. As Charles hands over the trophy, he’s not sure if their fingers really brushed or not. He tries to tell himself to calm down, but it’s quite difficult when he’s got a podium place, and that his quickly blossoming crush turned out to be a prince.
After anthems are sung and the champagne party begins, Lando jerks back when he notices Charles heading straight for him, and takes the champagne bottle from his hands before dumping a generous amount of champagne onto him.
Lando lets out a loud laugh, tempted to get revenge against Charles but decides against it, since he’d probably be breaking several articles of royal protocol.
“Meet me at the back later,” Charles leans to whisper in his ear, under the barely concealed guise of a congratulatory handshake. Lando nods, lightly pursing his lips.
The photo taking cannot end any sooner, and Lando sneaks to the back where Charles is now waiting for him, still in the formal attire from the ceremony.
“You did so well,” Charles beams at him, reaching out to take his hand without hesitation. Lando is shy for a moment, thinking about how sweaty his skin must be and how he might smell after being in the car for so long, out in the heat.
“I had good support,” Lando replies with a casual shrug.
“Lando,” Charles says, and Lando thinks he’s probably never going to get used to the way Charles says his name, “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”
Lando’s eyes widen. Daniel is right. This does feel an awful lot like a movie.
Lando coughs. “Um, isn’t there like, protocol for that and stuff?” he mutters, looking down at their still intertwined hands.
Charles laughs. “I have my ways. I did already check with your people, though, and they were fine with it, if you said yes, of course.”
Of course they would be.
“Then, sure, I guess,” Lando mutters, his heart beating fast in his chest from the adrenaline of the entire day.
“I’ll pick you up at seven, then,” Charles says, tugging Lando closer. “How does dinner on a yacht sound?”
Lando blinks rapidly. “Sounds uh, great,” he manages a smile.
Charles smiles at him, before pressing a soft kiss to his hand. Lando lets himself laugh out loud this time, basking in the warmth of it all. This wild life of his was only about to get crazier.