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The air was still hot from the shining sun of the afternoon, making it impossible to breathe regularly. Yes, they were athletes, but they were still humans first and air was a basic need. A heavy blanket of humidity has apparently decided that Spielberg was a perfect place to rest, thus suffocating every person in the area.
Carlos was laying in bed, heat surrounding him and keeping away every chance of sleep. He was wearing just his underwear but unfortunately it wasn't enough. Sweat was clinging on his body like a second skin and the mattress under him was probably starting to patch. The only one apparently unaffected by this whole situation seemed to be the owner of the arm embracing the spaniard's waist.
Max was sleeping soundly behind him, body contact reduced to minimum to avoid overheating. He was usually a light sleeper but today he has decided to snore.
Carlos sighted deeply.
Add pain to injury.
As if the day hadn't been enough bad. First the Qualy on Saturday, souring his mood since the following morning, already calling for a difficult race. Then the amazing gift of a problematic engine enforced by a shit show of fire. Again.
Too bad he even liked Austria, evidently it was a one-sided love.
Carlos' faith in Willams was still there, he believed in them, in their project and in their management. He had chosen them to star over, to reach the top once again. He knew 2025 was just a year of transition, a year to familiarise with the team and the procedures, but from deep down a growing frustration was resurfacing. Too many strategies fuck-ups, too many slow pit stops, too many problems. He earned a lot less points that he would actually have if luck hadn't turned his back to him and the guys at the pit wall would have been better. He didn't expect to be above Alex (who was doing a great job) but much more near in the standing than where he was now. 'Damn it'.
The air was still too warm. Noises from outside meant that the Mclaren crew (their hotel being right behind the corner) was still partying hard at their mega results. Every person who truly knew Carlos understood his happiness for the English team. They were the family where he had felt most welcomed. His first podium had been rightfully with them. He was so incredibly proud of the Papayas, they deserved every success they were getting now. Too many times he wished to have stayed there, with Lando, Andrea, Zak, with the boys and girls of his old home. Once he had even selfishly hoped Oscar not to be that good, thus opening the gates to a possible come back. But he had soon relegated that thought out of his mind. No driver deserved this scenario, they were in F1 all together, they all knew the difficulties of reaching the pinnacle of motorsport. Piastri was strong and worthy of the Mclaren's seat.
While he was stuck in a midfield team, wasting off his potential, his chances for a podium. Even points were difficult to get, or even finishing the rac-
"I can hear you thinking".
A grumble came from behind him. Carlos' thoughts were interrupted by a half-asleep half-awake dutchman.
"No seriously, you literally woke me up".
"Oh shut up. As if" growled back the Willams driver at the sheer absurdity of his mate's statement.
"I am telling no lies".
"You are".
Max slowly got up in a sitting position, legs stretched in front of him.
"What is it?".
"What?".
"Why can't you sleep?".
"It's too hot".
The younger turned to look at him, his eyes assessing the laying man.
"Bullshit" he concluded.
"Excuse me?"
"I said bullshit. That's clearly not the reason. So, once again, why is it that you can't sleep?"
Annoyance was beginning to rise in Carlos' mood. He wasn't in the spirit for a lecture, not in the middle of the night when it was freaking hot and he was all sweaty.
"It's hot Max, too hot. I can't sleep because of this. If you believe me or not that's your problem".
"Yeah yeah it's too hot" mocked him the dutchman.
Carlos sank his face into the pillow, not dignifying him with an answer. He just wanted to manage a rest, he was not asking much.
"So, just for information, is it too hot because of the weather or it's from the fire burning your car and apparently your mind?".
"Fuck you Max!" a cushion hit the younger straight in the face. The spaniard was now sitting and looking at his lover with an angry and wounded expression. Max, recovering from the hit, was looking back with unimpressed eyes, as if nothing have just happened.
"Tell me I am lying now, come on" challenged him Max.
"You!.. You're the most infuriating man I know" sighted the spaniard, trying to mask how livid he was "why couldn't you just stay asleep?".
"I told you, you woke me up with your thoughts. They were so loud I couldn't ignore them".
This time Carlos didn't find it in himself to answer. He knew his mate was right. Max knew him better than anyone else. He was familiar with how his mind tended to wonder in dark places when a race weekend wasn't good. He knew, despite how confident Carlos carried himself, that under the pretty image he hid a lot of insecurities. And the toxic trait was that the older used to pocket his feeling, making himself suffer when alone.
"I am about to call for box. Racing car number 55 seems to have some issue with the PU" joked mindfully the dutchman in order to lighten the mood "we need to substitute the engine, this one has been overwhelmed and isn't able to carry the car to the finish line".
The filtering moonlight was illuminating Max's face in shades of cold light, giving the man a calm appearance.
"Call for box. Box confirmed?".
Carlos was now looking at him with a rised eyebrow as if to say 'Really?'.
"I repeat, box confirmed?".
...
"Box confirmed..".
"Excellent".
After being given approval Max grabbed Carlos and hugged him. Not a slack hold but not even a tight one, just enough to be comforting and not crushing. A kiss came to the spaniard's left temple.
"It's just so frustrating.. I want a clean weekend. I want a good qualy and a good race.. at least start the race! It's like a completely wasted work. We got here knowing it was not ad ideal circuit but this exceeded the expectations, in worse.. I hate this".
They sat there in silence, their breathing soon becoming synchronised. The noises outside were still there but now the world was reduced to them. They were in their own bubble.
"I know. I understand how you feel. But don't let a single race ruin you".
"It's not just this race! How many good ones this year? Two, three? How many points do I have? Too few".
"Carlos listen to me. You've been used to race for podiums and victories. It's completely normal that now you struggle if the stakes is even a small point. It would be the same for me, for Charles, for Lando. For everyone with a strong car. So do not throw yourself under the bus. You are always giving 100%, that's the most important thing. And if it doesn't work, if the car blows up, if an incident happens or the strategy is not good, well weekends like this happens more often than people think. The key is that you know you've done all you could. We can't control everything but this".
Carlos was slumped in his lover embrace. His mind, now empty of thoughts, was welcoming Max's supporting words. In the end he always managed to comfort him, to free him from delusions.
"You know better than me that 2025 is just a year to get into a new team. There is nothing worthy for these months, only races to accustumate to the new reality. So do not stop here in Austria, look forward to Silverstone".
The words started to sink in.
"..since when have you become this wise?".
"I've learned from the best".
"I'm hardly the best, I'm so far off".
"But your hugs are great".
A fond smile painted Carlos' lips. With a raised hand he turned Max's chin towards himself and kissed him. The kiss was slow and sweet, lingering. They exchanged a few more before resting their foreheads against each other.
"You know, you weren't the only one unable to race today".
"I know. Kimi right?".
"Yeah".
"I've heard the things you said about him. You were amazing".
"He's a good kid. Humble and level headed. He has a great future in this sport if the right people support him. I don't want him to go through the shit I have been through. People can be very cruel, he doesn't deserve hate, anyone can make a mistake, especially the rookies. It's time for the fans and journalists to understand that".
"You're a good man Max. You've become an example a lot of people look up to, especially the youngsters. I'm proud of you" another kiss.
"This. Being a role model. This I've learned from you Carlos. You've made me who I am. You've been always by my side, always kind and supporting. Always there, not only for me but for many, ready to welcome with open arms. I may not be a good looking, latino eye-catcher like you but I try my best to emulate your best qualities".
"Mmh.. thank you mi leóncito".
"Any time, mijn stokstaartje".
"What?" Carlos looked at him with a funny expression. He never really managed to learn Dutch, a language quite a world apart from his Spanish. Yes some words were understandable for being a bit similar to English but the majority were impossible. Especially these ones.
"Meerkat".
"Really? Such and ugly word to describe such beautiful creature?".
"That's not ugly".
"Yes it is. In Spanish is sooo much better, suricata. A lot more smooth and cute. Not that horrendous stoc-something" thick spanish accent leaking from the Madridista's voice. Max laughed at him before silencing him with a searing kiss this time. His hands went wondering in Carlos' hair and gently massaging his scalp, while his mouth descended on his neck. Finally sleep seemed to be catching them as Carlos yawned.
"Guess sleep is knocking at the door eh?".
"Seems like it" another yawn.
"Is the fire extinguished now that the PU has been changed? Is car 55 ready to reach the finish line called dream word?".
"Affermative".
"Great".
They laid down once again, hoping this time to actually rest. Silverstone was the following week so they needed to catch all energy possible. Carlos' mind was now much more at ease, finally freed of bad and distracting thoughts. A promising sleep was coming.
"I love you Max".
"Love you too Carlos".
Suddenly a pair of arms and legs octopused the spaniard.
"No no no hold on! I wasn't joking when I said it's freaking hot!!".