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FERRARI GARAGE - MARANELLO, ITALY

Charles bit back his laugh as he heard Lewis let out another soft sigh. It was so quiet it might have gone unnoticed if Charles hadn’t already been paying attention to Lewis. His teammate was doing everything he could not to melt into the meeting room chair, shifting restlessly every few minutes. Charles had counted at least three different positions by now, from having a leg casually hooked over the chair to the languid way he now tucked one calf behind the other, mind clearly somewhere else.

From the corner of his eye, Charles saw Lewis take in a deeper breath, preparing yet another sigh, only to stop in an instant when Fred shot him a scorching glare from across the table. Charles couldn’t really blame him their meetings never felt this long, but something was different after the summer shut down. Lewis was restless, aching to see the car again and Charles couldn’t blame him. 

Charles had already been lucky enough to see both cars this morning, and the familiar scent of motor oil had wrapped around him like an embrace he hadn’t known he missed. Rest had been good… but returning felt better.

He and Lewis had talked a lot over the summer, long conversations that spilled into the early hours, the kind that stripped away all noise until only truth remained.

Charles could not forget the one conversation that had rewritten the space between them. It was the night their edges stopped cutting and fit together instead, when their relationship clicked into a new shape—sharper, closer, impossible to ignore. Something better. Stronger. And the most surprising part was that it came not in the heat of their fury, but afterward, in the hush where honesty slipped through and changed everything.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

LEWIS HAMILTON’S HOME - MILIAN, ITALY

Charles had been forced to settle down on the plush couch. The day’s long-held hush of clouds finally dissolved into rain. He hadn’t meant to barge into Lewis’ apartment, he hadn’t meant to fall apart in the entryway either but the moment he learned they were in the same city, it was as if his body moved without asking permission. His cheeks still burned, raw from tears and the embarrassment of having shouted himself breathless earlier. 

Rain softened the world outside and muted the room, draining the brightness from the air and leaving it wrapped in a dark, drowsy calm. The only sound was the gentle breathing of Roscoe, the bulldog fast asleep in Charles’ lap. The loyal creature had practically launched himself at him the moment Lewis coaxed Charles onto the couch, determined to bring comfort in the way only Roscoe could and he had been helpful before he had fallen asleep. Which wasn’t that long after. 

Charles was pulled out of his thoughts when a light fluffy blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, his eyes flickered up to warm brown eyes already staring back down at him. He parted his lips to deny, “It’s for Roscoe, otherwise he gets fussy.” Hamilton mentioned, ignoring the fact that the blanket barely covered the bulldog. Charles moved his eyes back to Roscoe, allowing his hand to stroke over the chubby rolls of bulldog. A soft sniff escaped him and he was grateful that Hamilton either hadn’t heard him or was busy in the kitchen. 

“Do you want some ice cream? It’s vegan!” Lewis spoke, his head in the fridge as he rummaged around. Charles’ eyebrows lifted slightly, it seemed a bit too cold for ice cream. “No thank you.” His decline was only met with another request “What about a cookie? Or i have some leftovers and—“

“LH really, i’m okay.” Charles' stomach fluttered softly and he knew Lewis cared, ever since the man had joined Ferrari. He had done nothing but care even when it didn’t benefit him in any way.

“Okay.” Soft, understanding. 

Charles sank deeper into the couch, letting his hand still, in order to not wake Roscoe. His lack of affection was clearly not appreciated as Roscoe let out a snort and began wiggling further into Charles lap. 

“Sorry I think you’re trapped now.” Lewis laughed, settling down right next to Charles with a bowl of what Charles could assume was vegan vanilla ice cream. He watched as Lewis gently poked Roscoe's wet nose earning a indignant snort. 

“Shall we watch a movie?”

“Go on. Whatever you like.” Charles mumbled, finally feeling his anxieties disappear. The nearness of Lewis, the weight of Roscoe, the rain whispering against the windows, it all worked together, softening something inside him. His pulse slowed, and for the first time in days, maybe weeks, he could breathe without it hurting.

When the movie began, he recognized it. Of course he did.

“Do you not get tired of watching the same thing, LH?”

Lewis looked over mid-spoonful, eyes warm. “No. I can watch a film over and over again. In a way it’s kind of like racing, you know?”

“No, I don’t think I do.” 

Lewis chuckled, turning his head to give Charles’ his full attention. “Exposition’s like the start of race week. You see the track, the faces, the weather, you know familiarity. Then comes the rising action, qualifying—”

Charles listened, quiet, mesmerised not by the explanation itself but by the way Lewis spoke, waving through the air, his smile widening when he got carried away. Charles’ brain felt mushy, exhausted, but the comparison made a lovely sort of sense. Familiarity. Comfort.

Charles was silent as a mouse as he watched Lewis explain his points, It was a bit too much for Charles at the moment with his mushy brain but it made sense. 

“It’s all about familiarity.” 

“Exactly!” 

Lewis lit up, and the joy in it was untamed and boyish, it effortlessly pulled a smile from Charles. It struck him then, more powerfully than any podium moment or champagne-drenched celebration. Every track meant something to Lewis, every curve and turn a memory, a part of his soul. And Charles got to be there, beside him. With him. Witnessing him.

“I get it.”

Lewis grinned, radiant and unguarded, and the soundless skip of Charles’ heart nearly winded him. The moment struck like lightning. Sudden. Absolute. His heart stuttered, and the world seemed to tilt, ringed with gold and the faint echo of something divine.

He wanted to see that smile again. Tomorrow. The day after. Every day. For as long as Lewis would let him.

The realization hit him like a punch to the ribs, breath leaving him in a silent, stunned rush.

Charles was absolutely fucked.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

FERRARI GARAGE - MARANELLO, ITALY

“That wraps up our meeting. Any other business? No? Okay.”

Lewis pushed up from his chair before the words had fully settled, offering a polite, rushed 'thank you' as he slipped out of the room. Charles startled, blinking once before he surged to his feet to follow. The door eased shut behind Lewis, leaving only the faint click of it in his wake.

He reached the doorway, hand on the handle, when a familiar voice intercepted him.

“Charles! Just the person I wanted to see.”

Tina from PR stepped neatly into his path, a human barricade armed with folders and determination. “I’ve got a few marketing notes that need sign-off. Really easy. We’re trying to rebuild some fan connection after last season. Just signatures really.”

They performed a small dance, Charles stepped right, Tina mirrored. He stepped left, blocked again. He exhaled through his nose, gaze flicking over her shoulder toward the corridor Lewis disappeared down.

“Tina, could I just—”

“Two signatures and I’ll let you go,” she promised, already rifling for her pen.

He hadn’t even reached for his own before a bright red Ferrari pen was thrust into his hand. He scribbled his name without reading a word, impatience buzzing under his skin.

“You’re a star, thank you Charles!”

He was out the door before she could say anything else. Maybe the team felt there was reputation-mending to be done, but Charles didn’t. Not when he and Lewis were more solid than they had any right to be. It was strange how quickly it had happened. It took one honest (and a couple of tears from his side) conversation, somewhere far from cameras and engines, and something inside his chest had loosened and let Lewis wiggle in.

He took the stairs two at a time, following instinct and familiarity down toward the garage. His heartbeat picked up, not from the rush, but from the anticipation of seeing Lewis see his car again. The older man had talked about this moment for weeks, all restless excitement and late-night speculation, and Charles would be damned if he missed the smile he knew was waiting on his face.

He turned into the hallway leading to the garage, pulse warm beneath his skin, chasing the faint echo of Lewis’ excitement like it was something he, too, had been waiting all two weeks to touch.

“LH?” Charles asked, poking his head into the garage. Charles grinned seeing the lewis turn around, making the few twists that had escaped out of his bun flick with him. “Charles!” 

Charles’ heart picked up a rhythm that pressed hard against his ribs, as if trying to reach the man in front of him.“I realise you missed your car, but I'm kind of hurt, LH. Not even a proper greeting.”

Lewis didn’t answer right away, too busy running one tattooed hand over the bright red bodywork of the Ferrari, like it was something sacred which it probably was to Lewis. Charles watched him with a fondness he didn’t even bother to hide.

“Sorry, man. You know how I get. How was Monaco?” Lewis asked, still not looking at him, fingers tracing the curves of the machine like he was reacquainting himself with an old lover. He was almost jealous.

“It’s alright LH, don’t try to pretend you care about me.” He sighed, but his smile betrayed him. Charles’ feet moved towards Lewis’ before he could stop them, he was right behind Lewis. 

The other Ferrari driver stood up to his full height of 5’6. 4 inches shorter than Charles. Placing his hands on Lewis’ shoulder he hummed as he looked down at the 44 formula racing car, his own car only a couple of feet away. “Excited?”

Lewis turned his head to meet Charles' eyes. Dark brown coffee met green clear meadows. “You know I'm excited.”

“I know, I just like hearing you talk.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Lewis chuckled and if Charles focused enough he could see a lovely crimson tint on Lewis’ sunkissed skin. There was a beat of silence before Lewis’ words filled the empty garage once again “I did miss you.” 

Warmth flooded his body instantly and he knew his own face had taken a rosy hue. His pulse stuttered.

“Missed you too, LH.” He spoke, his voice unguarded and certain. 

Charles allowed Lewis time with his car. He had let himself rest against one of the engineer's desks, scrolling through his phone leisurely when a bright idea had popped into his head. 

“Let me take a picture of you.” 

Lewis didn’t hesitate. He posed beside the car, peace sign raised, his grin bright enough to challenge the overhead lights. Charles took several photos, each one more precious than it had any right to be. A snicker escaped him before he could contain it.

Lewis’ smile faltered, amused suspicion narrowing his eyes. “What?”

“You look like a kid on Christmas morning.”

And Lewis, who had won championships, who had stood on podiums more times than Charles could count, suddenly looked as shy as if the whole world wasn’t already in love with him.

“Can you blame me?” 

“No, I cannot.” Charles slipped his phone into his hoodie pocket, already anticipating looking through the photos later when he could savour them alone—each smile, each curve of Lewis’ face caught in pixels like something precious. “You hungry?”

“I could eat.”  

And it was decided, the pair of them made their way back up from the garage. There was a comfortable silence between them, Charles following behind Lewis before falling in step with the older man.

“How’s Roscoe?”  

“Oh, he’s great. Took him swimming last week and he loved it, maybe a little too much. I have to stop him from diving into pools now.” His voice softened, filled with amusement. “I think coming back was hard this time. We spent so long together but he's with his sitter today, so he shouldn’t be missing me too much.” A small smile, a vulnerable one. “When the break starts, maybe we’ll go to Miami. He loves it there.”

Charles nodded, opening the door for Lewis and letting the other walk in first. Lewis kept his eyes on Charles and he didn’t start walking until Charles was back next to him. 

They were pretty close to each other, each step causing their jackets to rub against each other. The walk to the factory lunch hall wasn’t that far but Lewis had managed to change the topic twice now, he was on about his next holiday.

“I think Japan would be fun! Especially with the universal studios and the fashion over there is sick. I’d love to spend a week or two there.” 

“I haven’t seen much of Japan honestly…i’ve probably only seen the track.” Charles contributed, causing Lewis to turn his head and have a proper look at him. One that showed slight disappointment. 

“We should go! Maybe not a whole week… just a few days. You could bring Leo, I bring Roscoe. It would be good.”

“Really?” Charles’ voice came out smaller than he meant it to. 

“Of course. Why not?”

Why not?

Because Charles could already see it and maybe he shouldn't. Lewis asleep on a plane seat beside him, Lewis laughing in the cold light of a vending machine at midnight, Lewis leaning in close to show him a photo. Lewis, always Lewis. He hadn’t done that with any of his previous teammates. He wondered if this was tethering the edge of more than friendship, he was filled with a sense of dread at the thought. The thought that he might have been taking this the wrong way and he’d make a move that would potentially alter their relationship for the worst was not something he wanted to think about.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t even know, I ate like shit over the break. I need to get back into my routine before physio beats my ass.” 

Charles let out a snort “I’ll grab you a salad, go find a table?” The restaurant was still quite empty, considering that it was still quite early, he wasn’t too surprised.

“Are you going to be okay with the tray?”

“Of course, LH. I’ve been training.”

“To carry my tray for me?”

“What else am i here for?”

Charles grinned as lewis let out a heartily laugh, shaking his head as he turned away from the Monégasque driver. He was careful as he picked up one of those salad bowls that he always chose to ignore, double checking the ingredients to make sure they were all good for his vegan teammate. It was worth spending those extra few seconds when brown eyes looked up from his phone and lit up. 

“You’re getting good.” Lewis praised after scanning the white label detailing the ingredients. 

“You think?” Charles laughed, taking a seat right next to Lewis. He didn’t even look at the other chair, he liked being close to Lewis. Needed to be close. 

“Oh definitely, remember the first time you got me a chicken wrap.” He cackled and causing Charles to flush. He groaned in agony at the memory “You promised not to bring that up.”

“I’m sorry! I know you meant no harm, Charlie.” 

“Whatever.”

They spent the rest of the day together, Lewis ended up tagging along when Charles was called for a brief meeting with logistics and it made the day just that more bearable. It felt like having a lesson with your best friend and if they were told off more than once for laughing during the meeting. That was their own business.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

CIRCUIT ZANDVOORT — NETHERLANDS 

Roscoe trotted neatly against Lewis’ side as they moved through the Zandvoort paddock, his nails tapping against the concrete, his tongue lolling happily. Lewis could tell his boy felt good, Roscoe always did after seeing fans. He basked in attention the way Lewis once had too, before he’d learned how heavy it could get. But Roscoe carried joy easily, and today, Lewis tried to match it.

He’d chosen comfort for the day. Dark blue denim, crisp white undershirt, simple but sharp. The back of the jacket carried a bold LH 44 in white and red, familiar and grounding. He didn’t need the mirror to know he looked good. The turn of heads as he passed was enough.

Security guided them toward the press conference. Lewis stopped here and there to greet a few familiar faces, a hand on a shoulder, a warm nod, a quick check-in. He had made time for this. He always did.

“Lewis,” Ella began gently, walking beside him. “Remember what we practiced. I told them not to push anything sensitive, but… well, you know how they are. If there’s something you don’t want to answer, deflect and move on. Don’t let them corner you. Especially Sky Sports. There's a couple of reporters too, smaller niche brand but they shouldn't phase you too much.”

He nodded, accepting the bottle of water handed to him. He’d heard this talk so often he could recite it in his sleep. Drink, breathe, smile, survive. He tipped the bottle back and looked around the paddock, watching other teams weaving through the morning rush.

“You ready?”

“Yeah—”

“LH!”

The smile broke over his face before he even meant it to. Roscoe perked instantly, scrambling upright and nearly dragging Lewis forward, training flying out the window. Lewis laughed as his dog’s whole body wiggled in barely contained delight.

Charles.

He crouched down without hesitation, greeting Roscoe like he was some royal figure. And Roscoe, the little traitor that he was, responded like he’d just found the love of his life. Lewis watched the scene unfold with a warmth he refused to examine too closely in fear of what he'd find. 

Then Charles looked up at him, and Lewis forgot about press conferences, media training, all of it.

Lewis had always been a tactile person, and Charles met him there naturally, like he’d always known how to. So when Charles reached for him voice gentle,

“Are you about to go in?”

Lewis let himself be pulled into a hug before he even answered. “Yeah. About five minutes.” He turned slightly, still wrapped in him, to confirm with Ella. She nodded, barely looking up from her iPad.

“I haven’t gone in yet,” Charles murmured, arms still around him. “I wanted to see you off.”

Lewis scoffed softly, though his heart wasn’t nearly as composed. “I’m not going to war, Charlie. You’re so dramatic.”

“Well, you kind of are,” Charles countered with that familiar flare of mischief. “I, too, must soon depart into the den of dragons and serpents.”

Lewis barked a laugh. God, he loved this. The ease, the ridiculousness, the way Charles made this sport feel lighter on his shoulders.

Ella approached with a knowing look, the type that made Lewis feel vaguely exposed. “You two could go into the interviews together, if you prefer.”

Lewis blinked. “Is that allowed?”

“It’s not unheard of. And PR would love it. It fits the storyline they’ve been pushing. I can check with media if you want.”

Lewis turned to Charles, already knowing his own answer but wanting to hear his.

Charles was already looking at him. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he said with a small shrug, but Lewis didn’t miss the softness beneath it.

Ella grinned like she knew exactly what she was doing. “Great. I’ll talk to media and update everyone.”

As she walked away, Lewis glanced sideways at Charles, his teammate. Zandvoort buzzed around them, loud and electric, but for a moment it felt like the paddock spun around just the two of them.

Roscoe leaned against both their legs at once, as if sealing something unspoken.

Lewis exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

It was just a press conference.

Just a walk through the paddock.

Just Charles.

Which is how the three of them ended up there, Roscoe included, already stretched comfortably at Lewis’ feet and halfway asleep, the lazy sod. The couch was meant for one driver, maybe two at a stretch, and yet here they were, pressed close out of necessity. Lewis could feel the warmth of Charles’ body, and he tried (unsuccessfully) to not think about it too much.

“Lewis, Charles. Thank you for having these interviews with us, it's quite a…should i say a treat to have both of you interviewing together.”

The room wasn’t built for closeness, but somehow they made it seem natural. Lewis nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth as if he wasn’t entirely sure it was allowed to widen.

“Looking back at your races before the summer shutdown, there was a bit of an obvious struggle with the car and getting those needed pushes from the car. Do you worry that you’ll be having those issues in this next season?” 

Both Charles and Lewis went to answer the question, before apologising to each other. “Go ahead.” Charles laughed, lowering his mic onto his lap. 

Lewis started his answer with a chuckle, “Honestly, as tough and disappointing as those races felt at the time, I think they were necessary. They gave all of us a chance to understand each other better. For Charlie, it was about adapting to having a teammate, and for me, it was stepping into a new environment, a new car, a whole new dynamic. And yeah, I learned a lot through all of it. In a strange way, I’m actually grateful it happened the way it did, i feel those moments shaped us and helped us grow.”

He finished his sentence to look over at Charles who had nodded in turn, raising his microphone. “I agree. It was definitely difficult at first to get used to LH, he’s such a big name in our sport, and of course there’s a lot to live up to when you’re racing alongside him. But he’s taught me a lot, and I honestly feel like I’m a better driver because of it.”

“That’s great, it’s clear that you’ve gotten a lot closer and if we could talk about that a bit more. Charles there’s a very brief interview of you leaving one of your hotels in Monaco and you’re quoted describing the relationship as “great” could you tell us a bit more about how you got to that point?”

Lewis looked over at Charles, eyebrows raised. “You were talking about me?” He teased, eyes filled with mirth at the thought of taunting the younger male. 

“I always talk about you.” 

“Good things I hope.” There were a couple of chuckles around the room.

“Of course, Of course! Ah apologies, Lewis has been great. It didn’t take a lot for us to get to where we are now, we spent quite a bit of time together over the summer shutdown and got used to each other outside of racing and I'm sure you’ll be able to see that once we get back onto the track.”

“If we could talk a bit more about your race later today, are there any difficulties with this track? As you know it requires a lot of precision. Do you feel the car will be able to handle such?”

Charles answered this one “The cars underwent some changes after we’ve come back. Each car has been changed to our preference, I think it’s well known Lewis prefers understeering and our engineers have worked incredibly hard to make us happy with our cars so I believe the car can handle anything we throw at it.” Lewis watched Charles speak, a small smile on his face. 

It went on like this for a couple of minutes but for once Lewis didn’t hate it. It was nice to have someone right by his side and oddly enough the journalists had to be kind to them and gave them easy questions. Borderline nice questions or maybe it's because Charles was with him.

“Thank you gentlemen, we have an easier and slightly unique question for you. A bit of more team bonding if you’d like. If you could describe each other's auras, what would you say?” The question came from a reporter Lewis hadn’t seen before, there was a slight surprise in the room at the odd question.

Lewis let out a soft “Oo,” his lips forming a small round shape. “That’s an interesting question, we’ve never got a question like that.” 

“That’s definitely a question for you. You like your whole ‘les cartes de tarot’. I’m not that familiar with them.”

“Oh yeah, you remember I read your cards?”

“Yeah, though I don't think you did it right.”

“Yes I did.” 

“Don’t think so.” 

They were cut off by Ella, who was now standing next to the stage, clearing her throat and urging them to carry on with answering the question. 

“Sorry, I'd say,” Lewis leaned back, getting a full view of his team mate, who stared back with a smile. “Blue.”

“Is that because my favourite colour is blue?” Small laughter filled the room causing a smile to stretch on Charles’ lips. 

“No! Let me finish speaking. I think blue is your main colour for your honestly and emotional openness. Mmm and then some yellow because of your very positive attitude and then of course a bit of red.” He grinned, very happy with his diagnosis for Charles. “Okay, what about me?”

“Baby blue because it’s my favourite colour.”

Lewis’ face dropped, hearing the simple explanation after his very well thought out response.

“That’s it?”

“What! I feel like that’s quite the compliment.”

Lewis rolled his eyes, although he couldn’t quite get the smile off his face. 

“Thank you for your time, gentlemen.” They both said their thanks, standing up. Roscoe let out a gruff, standing up and stretching. Lewis gently pulled the lead, urging the bulldog to start walking. Lewis followed behind Ella, Charles shielding his back as they left the interview room.

“Well done both, that was a great interview. You’ve got about 20 minutes, so take a break and we’ll meet at Stage B for the FIA press conference. Let me know if you need anything.” Ella smiled, eyes still trained on her Ipad. 

“I think I’ll put Roscoe in the motorhome,” Lewis said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His body ached for ten quiet minutes where he could close his eyes and let the world stop moving. “I’ll see you later?”

Charles straightened, too eager, too quick. “Let me come with you.”

Lewis’ lips parted, words ready to escape. He didn't even know what he was going to say yet, only that part of him wanted to say yes, to have Charles walk beside him, to stretch those minutes into something away from the noise of Zandvoort.

“Charles!”

Both he and Charles turned at the familiar voice. Max approached, steps steady but expression uncertain. Lewis stepped back half an inch, enough to let the two greet each other. When their eyes finally landed on him, it was his turn and he dreaded it. 

“Lewis.”

“Max.”

Silence. Thick, almost suffocating. The kind that held history like a bruise. Max looked down, fingers tapping once against his thigh. He wasn’t being difficult, not intentionally. He was just there, existing and sometimes that was enough to make Lewis feel like his ribs were too tight.

“Are you well?” Max asked, voice low and careful like he was a deer, ready to bolt at any sudden movement. Lewis forced himself not to look away. “Yeah… yeah. You?”

A nod. A small, knowing smile. Rivalry didn’t dissolve just because the helmets came off. Lewis wondered, not for the first time, whether Max still saw him as a threat, a ghost from a different fight, a version of Lewis he was still trying to beat.

Lewis cleared his throat. “I’ll meet you on stage. Nice seeing you, Max.” He dipped his head politely toward the both of them.

As he walked away, something like pressure eased from his chest but slowly, like a zipper being undone. He inhaled a shaky, quiet breath, and only when the voices behind him faded did he realize just how heavy the air had felt.

The awkwardness always found him when he least wanted it. A consequence of the sport, he reminded himself. Rivals turned shadows, shadows turned memories. It's hard to rewrite someone in your mind after years of fighting them for air.

He let out a long sigh, deeper than he meant to, shoulders loosening as soon as he was alone enough not to pretend.

Roscoe bumped his leg, tail thumping once.

“I know, bud,” Lewis murmured.

And yet, what lingered in his head was not Max’s face, nor the past he carried but the way Charles had offered to stay with him, the most natural thing in the world.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Charles, before you go. Lewis asked you to bring him an orange.”

Charles paused, eyes flicking toward the camera aimed directly at him. It was difficult to ignore it when it felt like it was capturing something more intimate than a simple errand. He blinked once, confusion softening his expression.

“He wants an orange? Now?”

He was met with a nod before he accepted his mission and began his search for an orange. The Ferrari hospitality area was quiet when he slipped inside. The low hum of conversation, the faint scent of espresso and engine oil. His eyes scanned the table before they landed on what he needed.  He let out a tiny noise of triumph as he spotted the citrus fruit. There was already some prepared fruit on the table but Charles opted for an unpeeled one.  If Lewis wanted an orange, Charles wanted to be the one to prepare it. Pathetic, maybe. Honest, definitely.

“Can I ask about the camera that’s currently recording me?” 

“Nope.” 

His team was an odd one but he did as he was told. Glancing up at the clock, he had about 10 minutes to get to the stage. Grabbing one of the small plates he began to peel the orange, digging his thumb into the skin feeling it give, the rind resisting before yielding to him. 

He was focused as he tried not to squish the fruit, the juices already dripping off his knuckles and onto the ceramic plate. Once he had ripped off the tough exterior, he took off the bitter white membrane until the fruit was perfect. He wanted it to be perfect not for the cameras, but for Lewis.

He glanced up at the clock and he had enough time to make his way down to Stage B. “Such a gentleman, Charles.” Tina teased. 

“I’m only being kind.” Charles defended, confusion etched into his face as he watched Tina stop recording, clearly not believing a word out of his mouth. 

“Would you peel me an orange, if I asked?”

He hesitated for a moment, thinking about it. “Of course I would!”

Tina came closer and gave him three gentle pats on his back. “Of course you would. Come on.”  

Tina paved the way for Charles as he carried the plate of oranges, elegantly moving people out of the way for him. The conference room buzzed. Press, team members, scattered conversations. But Charles saw only one thing that mattered Lewis, sitting at the Ferrari table, now in the red team hoodie. His brows were furrowed in concentration, the glow of his phone lighting his features.

Charles took his place next to Lewis, who looked up at the movement disturbing his bubble. Lewis looked at the plate of oranges Charles had placed down onto the table. “Did you get hungry?”

“No,” the word quiet enough that it didn’t have to carry beyond them, “for you. Tina said you wanted an orange.”

Lewis’ confusion was almost endearing enough to hurt, he looked like a lost deer in the forest. Eyes big and brown. He looked at the plate, then at Charles, and something flickered behind his eyes, maybe warmth. He wasn’t completely sure. 

“Eat them anyway,” Charles added, “I peeled them for you.” It was clear that this had truly been one of Tina’s weird PR campaigns that he really didn’t fully understand.  

Lewis laughed under his breath, “Thank you.” he said and the way he said it made Charles feel like he had done something much more significant than handle a piece of fruit. He watched Lewis eat the first segment, lips shining from the juice, and Charles’ chest ached with something he refused to name.

And naturally they slipped into conversation easily, like a well-worn habit.

“Have you seen that tiktok trend, where people hang off you know like those platforms for construction or like signs and they sing this song ‘going up to honolulu just to get that, that maui wowie’ you know it?” Lewis shook his head, mouth curved around another piece of orange. Charles pulled out his phone, leaned closer, shoulder touching Lewis’ as he scrolled through his phone.

What neither of them noticed, however, was Tina. She had set the camera down, but it wasn’t her only tool of observation. She lingered just out of sight, lens trained subtly on the pair, capturing every tilt of Charles’ head, every quiet smile from Lewis, every segment of fruit lifted between them. 

They watched together in their little shared space, much closer than necessary. Charles stole a segment from the plate.

“I’d pull something if I tried that,” Lewis murmured.

Without thinking, Charles replied “Sometimes I forget you’re old.”

Lewis turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing with mock offense, but there was a warmth there too, something neither of them joked about. Lewis’ breath hitched into a laugh, low and disbelieving.

“Ridiculous.”

Yet the sound of it clung to Charles just like the way the citrus stuck on his skin, a sweetness he would carry long after the moment passed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Scuderiaferrari

A quiet moment before media duties. Teamwork, preparation, and… citrus.

Tifosi-cult The plate. The careful peeling. The segment stealing. This is romance.

f1wagsbutmen Imagine being so in love you peel citrus on camera with no shame.

monaco_girlie he removed the membrane. THE MEMBRANE. that’s intimacy.

smoothoperatorhernando If this is PR, then PR deserves a raise bc it’s working on ME.

feralferrari Someone check the comments on TikTok. They are UNSAFE.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

@scuderiaferrari

Charles delivers a VERY important… orange to Lewis before media duties.

#F1 #Ferrari #LewisHamilton #CharlesLeclerc #teambonding #mediaDay #f1tok #paddocklife

f1clowncar “for you” SIR? SIR??? SIR YOU CANNOT SAY THAT WITH YOUR WHOLE CHEST.  ♡ 3878

44hamilton if lewis said “thank you” to me like THAT i’d pass out and respawn as his orange.    ♡ 10K

lewis44simpclub “for you” AND THE VOICE DROPPED??? why is charles leclerc romancing a 7-time champion with produce ♡ 6507

hamleclore WTH HAPPENED OVER THE SUMMER SHUTDOWN!?!? ♡ 11K

44miracles oh to be loved in such a way ♡ 15.1K

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Charles Leclerc peeling an orange for Lewis Hamilton before a media session has gone viral, sparking the hashtag #OrangeGate. Fans are obsessed with the quiet intimacy, playful touches, and Lewis’ soft smile, flooding TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter with reactions, memes, and debates about the moment.

@44and16aremarried

lewis looking up at him like “is this for ME?” i’m actually going to pass away #orangegate 

12.4K retweets · 48.9K likes

@paddockpotato

there is NO hetero explanation for the way he said “for you” i fear #orangegate 

5.1K retweets · 22.7K likes

@chaosf1tok

the ORANGE MEMBRANE??? charles peeled it off like he was preparing a MICHELIN STAR MEAL FOR HIS MAN  #orangegate

3.9K retweets · 18.2K likes

@f1psychic

charles leaning in to show him tiktoks… shoulders touching… WHISPERING… i am biting my hand #orangegate

2.7K retweets · 12.9K likes

@charleskneecaps

someone check on max verstappen he’s somewhere screaming into a pillow #orangegate

4.3K retweets · 15.4K likes

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Chapter Text

MARINA BAY STREET CIRCUIT - MARINA BAY , SINGAPORE

Their cars had barely crossed the finish line but Lewis was sure he could hear the roar of the crowd from the safety of his helmet. 

“And they’ve done it! What a comeback, Hamilton P2 and Leclerc following behind in P3! A double Ferrari Podium, what a result! It’s clear that the team has come back much stronger.”

Lewis glanced at his wing mirror to see the number 16 motorcar following behind him, his moment of silent relief was broken by the radio his fleeting moment of quiet triumph was broken by the soft crackle of radio static before he heard.

“Beautiful work, Lewis,” Mateo’s voice came through, steady and warm despite the chaos around them. “That’s P2 confirmed. Bring it home nice and clean. Charles is right behind you,both of you, incredible drive.”

Lewis let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, a smile pulling at his mouth under the helmet. He went back to focusing on taking his car to the parc fermé. Mateo clears his throat over the line, something amused in the sound.

“Lewis, Charles is asking if you can hear him. Want me to open the shared channel?”

Lewis huffed a laugh, already knowing exactly why Charles would be impatient.

“Go on then.”

A soft click, a crackle—then:

“Lewis?”

Charles’ voice, warm, breathless, still buzzing with adrenaline. Lewis felt something in his chest loosen, the adrenaline pumping through his body but he refused to let his voice shake.

“I hear you, mate.”

“That was perfect,” Charles said. “I’m really happy. Next time I'll get you to P1.” 

Lewis smiled under his helmet, the weight of the race finally lifting.

Lewis couldn’t help his laughter but he also couldn’t help the warmth at Charles’ words. He had done well, acting as Lewis’ defender as they overtook the other teams. It was almost like a practiced dance between them. 

Parking his car, he took the steering wheel off and before lifting himself out of the car. He got the familiar feeling of his legs being shaky, doubting he could support himself very well for long. He went through the process of getting weighed, it had a been a good minute since he had been on the parc fermé that forgot which way to go after he had been weighed.  

He let himself be led to his post-race interview. He had taken off his balaclava, letting the chaos of the grid finally reach him. He had wanted to wait for Charles, seen his car park right next to his while he was getting weighed but he hadn’t had a chance, already being ushered over to the interview stand where lando was getting his interview as P1. It was nice to see the younger members of the grid doing well, he remembers his first wins and they all stuck with him. 

He went to step up onto the small interview platform, the bright lights warming his face as Lando hopped down from finishing his segment. They exchanged a quick side hug, Lando full of adrenaline and Lewis still catching his breath, murmuring congratulations to each other before going their separate ways.

Lewis moved forward, ready for his turn, when a firm hand landed gently on his arm. One of the security staff shook his head.

“Hang on a second, mate. Just wait right here.”

Confusion filled him for half a second until he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

Charles.

Helmet off, curls damp, cheeks flushed from the race. He jogged the last couple of steps, slowing only when he reached Lewis. That was when Lewis realised they’d held him back so they could do the interview together. It seemed the team were really pushing this teamwork thing, but he didn’t mind. He was happy. 

Charles didn’t hesitate, he reached for Lewis immediately, pulling him into a hug that was warm despite the fireproofs, Charles’ hand patting the midpoint of Lewis’ back in quiet affection. Lewis felt grounded, he wanted nothing more than to bury his face further into Charles’ chest and stay there. 

“Well done,” Charles breathed against his shoulder, voice low enough that only Lewis could hear. “So proud of you.”

Lewis let out a soft laugh in response, the kind that came from somewhere deep and tired and happy,  before Charles pulled back, eyes bright.

They walked onto the stage together, side by side, the interviewer waiting for the double podium heroes exactly as planned.

“Lewis, P2. Congratulations. The car looked strong, you looked strong. How are you feeling?”

Lewis laughed through a tired exhale.

“Good. Really good. It’s been a long time coming for the team. We’ve been working nonstop to get here. Today just clicked and I'm glad we could show that to the fans.” Lewis could hear the crowd swell again louder, brighter, riding the high of the double podium and the sound pushed a wide, unrestrained grin onto his face.

He didn’t mean to look.

Not really.

It was just instinct.

His gaze slid sideways for barely a second, a tiny flick toward the man standing shoulder to shoulder with him. But one second was more than enough. Every camera snapped it, every phone caught it, every photographer on the barrier seemed to lean forward at the exact same moment.

Charles was already looking at him.

They shared a grin. Small, private, the kind that carried an entire conversation without a single word spoken. A spark of relief. A flash of pride. Something warm underneath that neither of them had dared name.

The crowd roared again, louder this time, though neither of them could’ve said whether it was for the podium… or for that fleeting look between them.

“You and Charles looked perfectly in sync out there. What do you credit that to?”

“Uh—Charles and I are very connected, more than people see, I think. He anticipates me before I’ve even committed to a line, and he gives me what I need every single time. When you have that kind of connection, the lap just comes together.”

“And Charles, P3 right behind him. A double Ferrari podium,how much does this mean to you?”

Charles leaned forward, hands clasped lightly in front of him.

“I mean, it’s amazing. We’ve struggled, all of us, but today showed what we can do. And honestly,” He nudged Lewis gently with his shoulder. “I’m very happy to be up here with him.”

“The partnership’s clearly strong. Fans are already calling this the start of a new Ferrari era.”

Lewis hummed thoughtfully.

“I think we’re just getting started.”

Charles nodded, eyes cutting toward Lewis for a beat longer than necessary.

“Yes. We are not finished yet.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Once again, congratulations, I'll let you go celebrate.” 

They voiced their thanks before they made their way off the stage, Charles close behind him as he guided them down the steps. Tina waited for them near the stage, Ipad in hand as well and a grin on her face. 

“Well done boys, the team is ecstatic. You’re gonna be busy with post-race stuff after the podium, so right after you guys get off. Could you wait at the back of the podium just so we can film a quick celebration video.” 

Tina walked them near to the cool down room, explaining their next steps. Lewis could slowly feel the adrenaline start to leave him as they entered the cool down room. He knew once he was on the podium that adrenaline would come rushing back but for now, he could finally admit he was tired. He let Charles do the talking for him, trusting him enough to know what he wanted and after what felt like walking through a maze. 

The cool down room was warmer than usual, humming with the leftover adrenaline and excitement. Lando had already made himself comfortable on one of the couches, sprawled out and chugging a bottle of water like it was the elixir of life. 

Lando beamed when Lewis and Charles stepped in. “Well done, both of you. Ferrari masterclass today.”

Lewis gave him a tired, grateful pat on the shoulder before dropping into the seat beside him. He’d barely sat down before his head dipped backward against the wall, eyes fluttering shut and tension leaving his body. Charles took the seat on his other side. He was close, maybe too close but Lewis wasn’t going to complain. The solid body of CH, felt grounding. Sturdy and sure. 

Lando raised a brow. “Is he alive?”

Charles didn’t miss a beat.“He crashes after a race,” he said easily, voice warm with amusement. “Every time. Like a toddler after a theme park.”Lewis cracked one eye open at that, lifting his head just enough to aim a half-hearted glare in Charles’ direction.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

“You’re barely here,” Charles shot back, lips twitching.

Lando snorted. “Yeah, mate, you look seconds away from face-planting into the ice towels.”

Lewis stuck his tongue out at both of them slowly, childish, unmistakably done with zero grace but admittedly that’s all he could offer before his eyes drifted closed again. Shifting his body to lean on Charles just a bit more, he only had a maximum of 10 minutes, he was gonna use every minute to reboot his system. 

Charles and Lando continued to silently converse, as the tv began to replay the race. Lando trying to keep his laughter quiet at some of his sillier moments. 

“See i don’t know how you two managed to do that.” He murmured, referencing the overtake that had pushed both Piastri and Verstappen from p2 and p3, down to 4 and 5. “Literally insane, you did it in a glance.” Lando spoke in awe, eyes watching the screen but Charles’ attention wasn’t fully on their conversation.

He could feel Lewis leaned more and more of his weight on him as he began to fall asleep. Charles relished the constant weight against his side, It felt nice feeling how close Lewis was to him. He felt his own body slouch further into the couch. Lewis’ hands were in his lap, Charles wished badly to take those hands into his. The shorter man always ran cold and Charles knew that those hands were freezing but he could warm them up. He wanted to. 

He adjusted both of their body’s, letting Lewis rest his head on his shoulder. He made sure Lewis was comfortable and wouldn’t strain his neck, before moving his eyes back to the screen. His eyes met Lando, who was watching Charles mid sip of his water. They continued to stare at each other and Charles was more than aware of his ears rapidly turning crimson. 

A knowing look appeared on Lando’s face, Charles chose to drag his eyes away. A handler appeared at the door “Gentlemen, two minutes till podium.” They disappeared before either driver could get a response out. Charles knew that the camera had moved onto the podium, he felt better knowing that they now were quite private with the exception of Lando. 

“Lew.” He whispered softly, gently patting his thigh to bring his teammate to the lando of the living. “Come on, it’s time for the podium.” He watched silently as warm brown eyes blinked awake, dazed with sleepiness. Charles allowed Lewis time to wake up as he grabbed a water bottle for him, cracking the lid open and waiting for the older man to sit up before handing it over. Charles would be called to the podium first, Lewis following behind and of course little lando norris. 

Charles attempted to fix his hair before going onto the stage. A yawn escaped Lewis and Charles could only watch the other endearingly. “We have a long day ahead of us, mon grand.”

“I know…The downside of getting a podium.”

They both laughed, unaware of the very observant eyes watching them in the corner. “Right, is everyone ready?”

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

As he expected the adrenaline from earlier had come rushing back to Lewis' bloodstream. He was wide awake once again and the cheers from the crowd had brought his excitement right back. It hadn’t been a full 5 minutes after the podium that Charles and himself were back in their racing suits and helmets. Lewis could still smell the stench of alcohol drenching his suit.

They were in a dimly lit hallway, behind the podium with the world moving around behind them. The old F1 podium song played faintly through the wall, bass shaking the floor. They had learnt the moves about 5 minutes ago and Lewis wasn’t sure he could remember them, he was just hoping he wouldn’t mess up too much.

Tina held the phone up, grin on his face as he explained her idea to them. “Don’t stress too much about it. Just have fun with it.”

The two helmets nodded at Tina’s instructions and Lewis put a thumbs up to further. 

“I should mention i’m not much of a dancer.” Lewis heard from behind him, his reply was laughter because he simply couldn’t relate. He had been to too many party in his lifetime to not know how to dance. “Charlie, come on. It’s like three moves.” 

“Shush, you party animal.”

Lewis laughed harder, the familiar ache in his sides appearing whenever he was around Charles. Charles had seen the dance plenty of times on his feed, so how Lewis had managed to learn the dance faster than him…He didn’t want to comment on it.

Tina clapped to get their attention, knowing the two could go on like this forever if they weren’t stopped. “Places. Suit zipped. Helmet visors down.”

Both drivers quickly checked themselves and then of course, each other.

“3,2,1” The audio started, the bright and bubbly audio filling their tiny area and the two of them fell into formation. Lewis at the front and Charles behind him. Charles was a fraction late on every move and Lewis couldn’t stop giggling. He could hear Charles laughing behind him and that made him so much happier. 

Charles nailed his spin. Lewis missed his, too busy moving to his next position and bumping into Charles shoulder. 

“Shit-” Lewis burst out laughing, almost missing the next move. 

“Stay in your lane, LH.” Charles laughed back, hand pressing into his lower back to steady him. Tina kept filming, a tiny smile on her face. They ended their little dance routine by tapping their helmets together like an accidental celebration. It was cute.

“That was perfect. Do you wanna see?”

They huddled around Tina’s phone, watching the video playback. Lewis couldn’t stop laughing at their chaotic moves. “Are you sure you don’t want us to re-record?” 

“Absoulety not! That was perfect, thank you both.”

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Oh my God, they are disgusting. You should have seen them, Lewis was literally falling asleep on Charles in the cool-down room. On him. On him. Like he paid extra for the premium cuddle package.” Lando announced, walking into the McLaren, dropping into a chair like the world had personally offended him. 

Oscar glanced up from the race playback while unwrapping a protein bar. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being accurate,” Lando shot back. “Hamilton had his head on Leclerc’s shoulder like he was about to start snoring. Charles had the smug little smile too! The ‘look-at-my-sleepy-boyfriend’ one.”

Oscar snorted. “He does not have that smile.”

“He does! He so does,” Lando insisted, pointing accusingly at the screen as if Charles might appear in it. “I swear, if Lewis had cuddled in any closer, Charles would’ve started petting his hair.”

Oscar shrugged, chewing. “Honestly? It sounds cute.”

Lando stared at him, betrayed. “Don’t say that. Don’t make this worse.”

“They’re teammates,” Oscar said, nodding toward the playback. “Teammates can be close.”

“If you think that’s normal teammate behaviour, I'd rather not be your teammate.” Lando countered. “We’re teammates! Not… whatever that was.”

Oscar’s brows lifted slightly. “Why? Afraid I’d fall asleep on you?”

Lando scoffed. “I’d drop you.”

“Uh-huh,” Oscar murmured, taking another bite of his protein bar, something dangerously close to a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sure you would.”

“Ew don’t tell me you're into this.”

“Shut up, Lando.”

Lando groaned. “I’m going to vomit.”

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

THE RITZ-CARLTON MILLENIA - MARINA BAY, SINGAPORE 

Charles could tell Lewis was exhausted. It had been hours since their podium and the older man was practically dead weight on his feet, Charles could not blame him because he could feel his own exhaustion stinging the back of his eyes. The elevator chimed softly as it climbed toward the upper floors of the Ritz-Carlton Millenia, the quiet hum of the hotel a stark contrast to the deafening roar of the Marina Bay crowd still echoing in their bones. It was nice though, to finally be away from the flashes and the noise and just be with each other.

Lewis had leaned back against the mirrored wall, eyes half-closed, exhaustion settling into him now that the adrenaline had finally burned off. Charles watched him, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, trying not to look like an absolute creep. 

“You’re crashing again.” Charles murmured.

Eyes still shut, “Long day.” Was the response he got and well, that was the truth. They had been awake since about 6 that morning if Charles could recall correctly and it was now just past midnight. An 18 hour work day, yeah Charles couldn’t blame him. Charles was brought out of his thoughts by a weight on his shoulder, once again, Lewis has decided to make his shoulder his pillow in their few seconds in the elevator. 

Charles let out a breath from his nose. He wondered if Lewis knew the effect he had on him, did he like seeing him weak and stuttering. Heart beating loudly in his ears. The elevator doors slid open on their floor, Charles wrapped an arm around a slim waist and gently urged the other to start walking. “Come on, LH. Let's get you to bed.” Lewis put all his trust into Charles as they walked down the carpeted hallway, no distance between them.

Lewis managed to swipe the keycard and the suite door swung open. Charles let go of Lewis, allowing him to walk in. He didn’t turn the lights on. The city’s glow spilled in through the full-length windows, Lewis kicked his trainers off, not bothered with where they landed before trudging to the bed and collapsing with a groan. Charles chuckled quietly, grabbing Lewis’s shoes and putting them neatly at the door. 

“You can’t be comfortable like that.” Charles laughed, making his way over to Lewis and tugging at the Ferrari jacket. Lewis let out a very childish whine, rolling onto his back and allowing Charles to unzip it for him and if Charles hands were shaking slightly that was his business. He helped Lewis out of the jacket, folding it and putting it to the side before moving to Lewis’ open suitcase and pulling out some pajamas. A random graphic t-shirt and some cotton shorts. 

He paused in slight surprise, sleepy brown eyes pining him to his spot. He didn’t think the other would still be awake, there was an emotion behind those eyes that Charles wasn’t able to identify. Lewis pushed himself up, looking over at Charles. “Would you stay the night with me?”

A beat of silence.

Charles’ heart for once was calm, it didn’t stutter like it usually did. 

“Of course.”

Lewis gave him a sleepy smile, standing up from the bed and taking his clothing from Charles' hands and disappearing into the bathroom. Charles blinked looking around the hotel room and trying to understand what he had agreed to. Walking to the bathroom door, he gently knocked,

“Lew, I'm just going to get changed. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He heard a soft okay from the other side and if he sprinted to his room, once again that was his business. He rushed around, flinging his clothes everywhere as he got changed. He wore his white shirt and some plaid trousers. When he next knocked on the door, Lewis had opened it and changed into his pajamas. He almost feared the other was going to change his mind but he was relieved when there was nothing but a sleepy smile and the door opening further. The heater was now on, giving the room a cozy feel. 

“Are you still happy, Charlie?” Lewis hummed,now buried under the duvet.

Charles’ lip slightly quirked up, “Of course I'm happy, LH. You did really well today.”

“So did you. You were there right when I needed you.” There was such conviction behind Lewis’s words that they left a ringing in his ears. 

“I’m glad.” Charles whispered, words only for Lewis. The words escaped him before he could fully think them through “Come here.”

He watched the slight widening of Lewis’ eyes but he feigned his confidence, opening his arms for Lewis to settle down in. He thanked the heavens when Lewis shuffled closer, laying his head on Charles’ shoulder. They were so close that he could feel Lewis’s breath against the crook of his neck every time he exhaled. Charles was still awake, unable to sleep when he had Lewis so close. It was nice, warm and safe. 

Lewis had gone quiet. Surprisingly not asleep yet, but drifting, sinking into that warm space between consciousness and rest. His curls had fallen forward a little, shadowing his eyes, his breathing deep and even.

Charles watched him for a moment longer than he should have.

The lights of Singapore painted Lewis in gold, softening every line of him. He looked relaxed, peaceful… beautiful in a way Charles had never allowed himself to stare at for so long. He was lucky to see Lewis in such a vulnerable moment, Charles felt privileged.

“Charlie…?” Lewis murmured, barely audible, not fully awake.

“I’m here,” Charles whispered.

Lewis hummed at the reassurance, the faintest smile touching his lips. Something in Charles’s chest twisted, tugged, pulled in a way he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Before he had time to think,before he had time to stop himself,Charles leaned in.

Just a little. Just enough.

He pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to Lewis’s forehead.

Lewis exhaled, a tiny, warm sound. His hand still resting by Charles’s side, curled faintly in the sheets, like he was anchoring himself to the presence beside him.

And Charles froze.

But Lewis didn’t stir.

He simply relaxed deeper into the pillow, as if the kiss had soothed something Charles couldn’t see. “Bonne nuit, mon cœur,” he whispered into the dark like a secret he trusted the night to keep.

Lewis didn’t reply but Charles hadn’t expected one. 

When Lewis drifted awake sometime in the night, the kind of half-conscious moment where the world felt blurred around the edges. Something was different. Warm.

He realised, slowly, that he wasn’t lying the way he’d fallen asleep.

He was on his side.

Charles’ arm was looped loosely around his waist.

And he was tucked back against Charles’ chest, their breaths falling into an unintentional rhythm.

For a beat, Lewis froze surprised but strangely comforted. The room was dim, the city outside finally quiet, and Charles’ breathing was soft and steady against the back of his neck.

He knew he shouldn’t stay like this.

He knew he shouldn’t let himself enjoy it.

But… It was only one night. One rare moment where the world wasn’t demanding something of him.

Lewis exhaled, barely a sigh, and let himself turn slowly until he was facing Charles instead. Charles’ arm shifted with him automatically, still holding him close, as if even asleep he refused to let Lewis drift far.

Lewis edged closer, hesitating only a second before lowering his forehead to Charles’ collarbone, letting the warmth soak into him. The faint scent of Charles was grounding. 

And then, as if stirred by instinct alone, Charles’ hand moved. A soft, sleepy drag down the length of Lewis’ back, slow and soothing. Lewis’ eyes fluttered shut. He shouldn’t indulge, he really shouldn’t.

But he let himself, just this once.

Just for tonight.

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

FERRARI HOSPITALITY LOUNGE - SÃO PAULO, BRAZIL

The morning light in the hospitality lounge was soft and golden, the kind that made everything look calmer than it really was. Lewis stood still while a tech clipped the mic pack to his waistband, the familiar pre-shoot routine settling over him. Yellow shirt, green accents, khakis, clean Jordans. He’d actually taken his time getting ready today and he had gone out of his way to wear the Brazil colours. Brazil deserved it. He felt good. Bright. Happy.

And then Charles Leclerc entered the room wearing the exact same outfit.

Lewis didn’t move at first. He just stared, because surely, surely this was some kind of joke. Same shirt. Same khakis. Same shoes. Down to the way the laces were tucked.

Of course Charles was grinning. Wide and bright and absolutely, obnoxiously pleased with himself. The kind of smile that shot straight into Lewis’ chest whether he liked it or not

Lewis’ expression went through all the stages he could feel happening on his own face: confusion, disbelief, reluctant amusement. He looked Charles up and down, saving the shoes for last because that was the part that hit him like a slap.

He had spent fifteen minutes choosing those shoes this morning. His hotel room was still a mess from getting ready.Charles walked right up to him, hands tucked behind his back like he was pretending innocence. As if innocence had ever once belonged to him.

“You like it?” he asked casually.

Lewis blinked at him. Once. Twice. Trying not to let the laugh tugging at his mouth escape.

“Go change,” he said softly, because he couldn’t trust his voice with anything firmer. The words were meant to be scolding, but they came out warm. Much too warm.

Charles gasped in dramatic offense. “No way! We look good together, non?”

Lewis exhaled through his nose, trying very hard not to smile. He failed a little. It was impossible not to. Charles was standing too close, glowing with self-satisfaction, clearly waiting for Lewis to break first.

And yeah. He was breaking.

Just not in the way Charles thought.

“You’re unbelievable,” Lewis muttered, shaking his head.

But the truth, however annoying and unhelpful, was that they did look good together.

Lewis slowly turned his head to the side, there had to be a responsible adult within a ten-meter radius. Someone with authority. Someone who could intervene before Charles became any more… Charles.

“Tina,” he called, voice carrying the desperation of a man betrayed by fate, “tell him to change.”

Tina didn’t even look up from her clipboard. “I’m not getting in the middle of you two today.”

Lewis closed his eyes for a beat.

Of course.

He opened them just in time to see Charles’ face light up in victory— eyebrows raised, smugness blazing off him like he’d personally invented sunlight. And Lewis felt something collapse inside his chest, something he would never, ever admit out loud.

“You hear that? Democracy,” Charles declared as a tech started clipping a mic to his collar. He spread his arms wide, like he was presenting a couture runway instead of their matching outfits. “The people have spoken.”

Lewis stared at him, mouth slightly open. “It’s not democracy if you’re bribing the voters with that stupid smile.”

And God help him, Charles didn’t even pretend to deny it. He just smiled, a soft, pleased smile that always managed to wedge under Lewis’ skin.

“You love my smile.”

Lewis tried, genuinely tried, to glare. But it came out more like an exhale wrapped in affection. “You planned this.”

Charles shrugged, one shoulder lifting in the way that meant he absolutely planned it. “Or maybe we are simple… how do you say? Soul-synced.”

Lewis let out a soft, incredulous laugh not because he believed it, but because Charles believed it enough for both of them. Because Charles could say things like that with no fear, no hesitation, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

“That is not a thing.”

“It is now,” Charles beams.

For a brief, perfect second the camera catches Lewis trying to glare. Trying to fight it. Trying to hang on to even an ounce of dignity.

But it’s useless, his face betrayed him with a smile he can’t swallow down fast enough.

Charles sees it instantly and his own grin sharpens, brightens, softens at the edges in that way that makes Lewis feel something unsteady behind his ribs.

“Okay…” the cameraman says, trying not to laugh. “And… we’re rolling in three, two—”

“Admit it, we look good today,” Charles murmurs, flicking Lewis’ mic cable with a teasing tug.

Lewis swats his hand away without looking, still smiling despite himself. “Yes. Because you copied me.”

“Here, let me give you a kiss to make you feel better.”

Lewis’s whole body jolts. “Oh my God, Charlie!”.

The cameraman finally cuts in, amused. “…And we’re rolling.”

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

They’re tucked into the back of the car, the hum of São Paulo traffic filling the silence. Lewis sits turned toward the window, watching the city pass in blurs of color and heat. The morning sun catches the side of his face, making him look annoyingly cinematic for someone who claims to hate being filmed off-duty.

Charles looked down at his phone, viewing the photos of Lewis he had taken earlier. He remembered taking the photo perfectly. He had insisted on it, Lewis would use the word forced but he was the same person who requested Charles send him the photos of them immediately. 

“LH,” he murmurs, tilting his phone slightly toward him, “can I post this?”

Lewis’s reaction to his name being called was subtle but telling. The corner of his mouth lifts, a tiny, involuntary smile that Charles notices immediately. Lewis leaned over the center console to see the screen, their shoulders brushing.

In the mirror picture, Charles stood on the left in his yellow top, expression quietly amused, the face he only ever sees reflected back at him when Lewis is nearby. He wasn’t posing. Just being. Just… letting himself exist in the warmth of the moment.

Next to him, Lewis leans in with his cheek pressed to Charles’ the easiest thing in the world. His smile is lopsided, teasing, the kind that always pulls Charles in without effort.

Looking at it now, it hits Charles again, the closeness, the ease, the way they fit into the same frame like they were made to. He could almost hear Lewis' laughter through the photo. 

Lewis studied the photo longer than he probably meant to and Charles noticed that flicker of fondness in his eyes. He felt his own mouth tug upward, helpless.

Lewis finally leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly. “Would you even listen if I said no?”

Charles smirked, letting the words come easy. “Probably not. I think you look very pretty here…well, all the time. It’s an objective fact.”

His voice dropped lower as he noticed Lewis’s gaze locking onto him, intense and unblinking. Charles felt it coil through him, a little thrill, a little tension, and he held the look, enjoying the quiet power of the moment. Lewis didn’t reply to him turning his attention to the outside and Charles mourned the attention of number 44 on him. 

Outside, São Paulo blurred into golden late-afternoon light. Charles stole another glance at Lewis. He looked calmer here, softer somehow.

“You seem calmer here,” Charles said.

Lewis blinked at him. “Here?”

“In Brazil,” Charles nodded. “The fans love you. A lot.”

Lewis’s gaze drifted back to the window. “Yeah… Brazil has always been special.”

Charles watched him, letting himself take in the easy way Lewis leaned against the car, the faint lift at the corner of his mouth. His voice dropped, quieter than usual. “You look happy.”

Lewis turned just in time to see it. The sincerity, the quiet something in Charles’s eyes. He smiled gratefully, and then the smile twisted into a mischievous smirk. “I am happy…and as an honorary citizen of Brazil—“

Charles let out a long, dramatic sigh, the kind that made it painfully obvious this wasn’t the first time Lewis had brought this up today. Or yesterday. Or possibly ever.

“For God’s sake,” he muttered, and for the first time he actually turned away, like he could physically escape the tangent. His eyes found the blur of São Paulo outside, a wash of color and heat.

Lewis raised a brow, amused. “What? You don’t want to hear it again?”

“No,” Charles said flatly, still staring out the window.

Lewis leaned closer, playful. “Are you jealous?”

Charles scoffed, but it was weak, betrayed by the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Of Brazil?” he asked, as if the concept itself was offensive.

Lewis’s grin widened. “You sound jealous.”

Charles crossed his arms, the picture of false indignation. “I am not jealous.”

“You are jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” he repeated, though Lewis clearly didn’t believe him.

Lewis leaned back, satisfied. “Mhm. Very convincing.”

Charles turned to look at him again, cautiously, like he knew he was walking into a trap. And there was Lewis, watching him with that same fondness he always reserved for Charles— warm, teasing, unflinching.

Charles huffed. “Stop smiling at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know something I don’t.”

Lewis shrugged, perfectly unapologetic. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. Who knows.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “You are impossible.”

Lewis nodded proudly. 

The car rolled to a stop outside the Sonara headquarters, sleek glass panels gleaming under the morning sun. Charles didn’t miss the way Lewis straightened in his seat, shoulders pulling back as that familiar PR-ready expression slipped into place. The polite smile, the perfectly measured calm.

It wasn't Lewis, the one who’d fallen asleep warm against his chest, soft curls tickling his chin. This version felt distant, armoured, and Charles hated how quickly it happened.

The gates opened for them, the courtyard quiet, no fans waiting beyond the barriers. Normally that calm would’ve been a relief, but today Charles wished there were people. The noise, chaos, something to keep Lewis laughing instead of disappearing behind that practiced shell. He wanted today to be easy for Lewis. Fun. Safe. He wanted… more of Lewis who let himself be held.

Tina had already given them a debrief earlier and they were more than ready to face the team of people waiting for them. “Ready?” Charles asked, slipping his phone into this trouser pocket. Once Lewis nodded, Charles opened the door to the van. The warm heat hit them instantly, it was almost suffocating. He turned back, dramatically bowing and holding his hand out.

“Sir Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton, if I may?”

The line landed perfectly just ridiculous enough that Lewis couldn’t hold the PR mask in place. His polite, polished smile cracked, slipping into something real. His eyes crinkled, that bright, familiar spark flickering back to life.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Lewis laughed, playing along as he reached out and took Charles’ hand.

The touch should’ve been nothing—quick, light, harmless—but Charles felt the chill of Lewis’ fingertips immediately. It wasn’t dramatic, just a small, sharp contrast that pulled at him.

Something tightened in Charles’ chest. Cold hands. Tired eyes earlier. The way Lewis had been quieter in the car. A small thing, maybe. But Charles noticed. He always noticed.

“You sleep alright?”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, the question so random it dragged out a small laugh. “I slept okay. My flight got in later than yours, remember?”

Charles hummed, the sound low and thoughtful, his thumb brushing unconsciously over Lewis’ knuckles. He hadn’t let go of his hand, hadn’t even really even thought to.

He swallowed. Focus. “Your hands… they’re cold,” Charles murmured, thumb brushing over a tattoo he definitely had no business lingering on.

“My hands are always cold.” Lewis had very pretty hands. Too pretty for Charles to be staring at like this. Smooth skin, delicate lines, tattoos he liked tracing with his eyes even when he absolutely shouldn’t.

“I’ll make you my mama’s vegetable soup when we get back, get your iron up.” Charles declared, dragging the man by one hand into the building.

“Charlie, I’m sure my iron levels are fine.” Lewis whined, like a baby. That was his Lewis.

“Don’t be a baby, mon cher.”

Charles led Lewis along the paved path toward the entrance, hand still wrapped around his. A tall, friendly-looking guide appeared at the gate, clipboard in hand and a calm smile on their face.

“Hello, gentlemen,” the guide said warmly. “Welcome to Sonara. I’m Rafael, I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here.”

Charles gave a polite nod, but kept his focus on Lewis, who was surveying the surroundings with that measured, slightly wary glance.

“Don’t worry about the cameras or the photos being taken,” Rafael continued, glancing briefly at a discreet line of staff with cameras. “They’re only here because they love seeing you both. Just… act like you usually do. That’s exactly what they want.”

“We also have some employees that are fans of you both and wished to meet you. I hope that’s alright.” Charles glanced at Lewis, noticing the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes, of course.”

Charles let Lewis step toward the small gathered crowd, following a half-step behind him like he always did when they were in public. Close enough to steady him, close enough to claim the space around him without ever saying a word.

They fell into their usual rhythm of greetings: smiles, waves, a few quick photos with the staff, Lewis turning on that gentle charm he thought looked effortless but Charles knew it took work.

Charles drifted a little nearer, hand brushing the small of Lewis’s back as he moved forward. He didn’t even think about it anymore. Neither did Lewis. He wanted Lewis to know he was there. A constant. 

Down the line, a cluster of younger staff tried (and failed) to whisper discreetly.

“Oh my god, look at how close he is.”

“He’s adorable!”

Charles felt heat prick at his cheeks, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in slightly, just enough that Lewis glanced back at him with a tiny, amused smile.

He pretended he wasn’t quietly pleased that they saw it too. How he hovered, how he gravitated, how unmistakably drawn he was to Lewis.

And that possessive creature that usually hid itself behind gentle touches and fleeting glances stretched awake inside him, practically preening at the attention.

He had been looking at the media. Of course he had. He knew what they were saying about them. How fans conspired about their relationship, dissected every touch, every shared smile, every moment where Charles lingered just a little too long in Lewis’s orbit.

And maybe once, a long time ago, he might have denied it. Might have insisted they were reading too much into nothing.

But now?

Now that he was older, a little steadier, a little more honest with himself?

He knew the truth.

He did egg them on. Subtly but deliberately, with a hand on Lewis’s back or a smile held a second too long. Not to mislead or tease, nothing to do with malice but because it felt good and right. Because part of him wanted the world to see exactly what he saw. The warmth in Lewis’s eyes, the way he softened around Charles, the rare vulnerability he trusted him with and because some childish, hopelessly smitten part of him enjoyed the idea that people could look at them and think, Of course. That makes sense.

He wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

But he wasn’t trying very hard to hide it anymore, either.

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

SONARA HEADQUATERS - SÃO PAULO, BRAZIL

The Sonara showroom opened up in front of them like a minimalist cathedral. It was crystal clear glass, pale wood, gold accents, everything humming with quiet, expensive confidence. A display wall lit up as they approached, cycling through Sonara’s newest line of premium tech. He could hear the constant click of the camera, no matter how discreet they tried to be and he knew Lewis heard it too. His eyes darted to the camera every time it went off. 

Lewis slowed and Charles slowed right beside him, eyes following his gaze towards a pair of starlight rested on a minimal glass shelf, sleek and understated in a way that seemed to scream Lewis Hamilton. 

Lewis looked at them with an expression Charles knew too well: curiosity softened by caution, interest hidden under professionalism. He didn’t reach out, but the want was clear in the set of his shoulders.

Charles didn’t say anything at first. He just watched him quietly, the same way he always did when Lewis noticed something he liked but refused to voice it for reasons he wasn’t sure, it felt like he wasn’t allowed little luxuries, or like wanting something made him too visible.

Rafael stepped ahead to explain the device, but Charles cut in gently before he could.

“You can try them,” Charles said, voice low, just for Lewis. “If you want.”

Lewis blinked, caught. “Oh no, it’s fine. They just look nice.”

Charles huffed a soft laugh under his breath.

“You looked at them like they’re calling your name, LH”

Lewis’s eyes widened just a little, the faintest betrayal of a smile threatening the edge of his mouth. “Charles…”

Charles stepped closer, brushing his fingers against the display’s edge.

“They’re here for us. For you. Go on.”

Lewis hesitated, always so careful, always thinking ten steps ahead and then finally reached out, fingertips brushing the sleek ear cup. He lifted them gently, like they were fragile.

He tried them on.

And something in his face a tiny, perfect shift told Charles that he liked them more than he’d expected to. Charles was quiet as he watched Lewis quietly get used to the feeling, adjusting the headphone slightly.

“Quiet,” Lewis murmured after a moment, tipping his head in the direction of the clicking cameras. Charles felt warmth coil in his chest at the unspoken trust of the comment.

“Picture?” he mouthed.

Lewis took a beat to read it, then met Charles’ eyes with a slow, knowing smile and a small nod. Charles was already pulling out his phone, pleased, almost eager.

“Am I alright to take a photo of him?” Charles asked, glancing toward the nearest PR handler with a polite lift of his brows.

Rafael's grin sharpened instantly, filled with mirth and quite frankly just far too entertained.

“Yes, please! Go ahead,” he said. And then, as he stepped back, he added under his breath, “Don’t let me stop the moment.”

Lewis didn’t catch it. Charles did and he flushed, just slightly.

Lewis struck a pose, a wink and tongue stuck out to the camera. Simple but it warmed something deep in Charles, something bright and stupid and possessive in a way he wanted to keep buried. Lewis slipped the headphones off once he was content with the amount of pictures Charles had, he placed them back onto the display with delicate care.

“You’re not keeping them?” Charles asked, slight disbelief in his tone as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

“We’re not here to shop, Charlie.” Lewis grinned, ready to continue with their tour. Charles took a couple of steps towards Lewis, and placed his hands on Lewis' shoulders.

“No,” Charles agreed, “But if you like something, you should have it. I want you to.”

Lewis looked at him for a moment too long. The kind of look that made Charles squirm because he knew Lewis' was analysing him, the kind that made it painfully obvious why Sonara had signed them in the first place. “I know.” Lewis smiled but that was the end of that and the older man pulled away from his hold and began walking toward some of the other tech scattered around for their visit. 

“Can you have those wrapped up for him?” he murmured, low enough that only Marco could hear.

Marco’s eyebrows lifted, the kind of pleased, conspiratorial expression Charles had come to expect from people who watched them too closely and enjoyed it far too much.

“Of course,” Rafael whispered back, failing to look professional. “Consider it done.”

Charles straightened just in time for Lewis to turn back toward him.

“Find something you like?” Lewis asked lightly, wondering why Charles was missing from his usual spot next to him. 

Charles nodded, eyes soft. “Maybe.”

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

LEWIS HAMILTON’S MOTORHOME - SÃO PAULO, BRAZIL

Lewis sighed dramatically as he finally stepped into his motorhome, letting the door shut behind him with a soft thud. Media day always drained him, and the jet lag wasn’t doing him any favors. He’d been holding in a yawn since the moment he’d faced the first camera, and when it finally escaped him, it felt like surrender.

He wanted silence, just silence. No flashes, no cheers, no constant noise gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

He stretched his arms above his head, humming when his joints cracked in satisfying little pops. Some of the tension loosened, drifting away for the first time all morning. He reached for his phone, intending to drop heavily onto the couch for five quiet minutes before the next obligation.

But then he stopped.

There was something on the table.

A gift.

Extravagant, wrapped in neat brown paper with an expensive-looking bow tied around it. A card was tucked under the ribbon, and beside it sat a small gift bag, innocent and suspicious all at once.

Lewis frowned. Hard.

Who the hell had access to his motorhome?

He edged closer, pulling a pen from his pocket and giving the box a cautious poke— just in case. When it didn’t explode or release glitter or trigger some kind of PR stunt from hell, he exhaled and sank onto the couch, pulling the gift toward him. He rarely got gifts and honestly, who bought presents for someone who already owned everything?

He peeled the paper away carefully at first, then more freely when the sound of tearing filled the quiet space. It was almost cinematic — overly dramatic, the kind of reveal scene he liked watching in movies when he couldn’t sleep.

The wrapping fell away completely, revealing a sleek red box. He tilted his head, curiosity growing and still no closer to guessing what was inside.

When he finally lifted the lid, his breath caught.

Inside were the Sonara headphones he’d admired from their visit. The exact model. The exact color. Sitting perfectly nestled in velvet, looking untouched, pristine.

But that wasn’t what made his chest squeeze.

There were engravings. Holographic, shifting slightly under the soft motorhome lighting, like they were winking up at him.

The right earcup gleamed with LH 44.

The left with CH 16.

Lewis blinked once and then again to ensure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

A slow, unstoppable smile curled over his lips — tired, but bright in a way he couldn’t hide even if he wanted to. His heart was full and he almost felt like a school boy. 

Of course it was him.

Lewis reached for the card, unsure why this felt more nerve-wracking than the gift itself. He slipped it from its envelope, the paper expensive between his fingers. His pulse jumped, ridiculous and real, as he unfolded it.

LH,

If you keep pretending you don’t want things,

I’ll just keep getting them for you.

I’m annoyingly good at it.

— C.

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Charles and Lewis’ shared radio channel leak has officially broken the internet, with the hashtag #F1Frequency hitting the trending list within minutes. Fans are questioning whether this was done deliberately or if the pair are truly that close.

@nico_rosberg

“Just caught the #F1Frequency leak… I mean, I love a good radio battle, but that’s a bit extra. 😅 #F1 #TeamWorkOrTeamFeels #F1Frequency

2.1k likes · 356 reposts

@f1gossipgirl

“a bit extra” OK GRANDPA ROSSBERG go drink a tea and rest your nerves 🫩🙄#f1frequency

8.5K likes 2.1K reposts

@tifositelIme

#F1Frequency finding out charles immediately asked “can he hear me??” BEFORE THEY EVEN OPENED THE CHANNEL is so on-brand. he missed him after 10 seconds.

10.6K likes . 3.2K reposts 

@paddocktea

Ferrari is so unserious for letting this leak #F1Frequency 

1.4K likes . 387 reposts 

@paddockprince

I love them so much #F1Frequency

129K likes . 2.3K reposts 

 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

@scuderiaferrari

“Double Ferrari podium. We’re back baby!”

#F1 #Ferrari #LewisHamilton #CharlesLeclerc #teambonding #mediaDay #f1tok #paddocklife #LushLife 

 f1gossipgirl

WHY ARE THEY SO… TOGETHER??? the helmet tap?? CH’S HAND ON LH’S BACK OMG??? i’m sick actually 😔☹️

♡ 8173

ZaraLarsson

This is insane!! Why did they lowkey eat me up! ♡ 12.2K

leclercsleftdimples

charles being late for every move because he’s too busy watching lewis >>> ♡ 2108

gridgirl78

they made a spin and a bump into a shoulder LOOK LIKE THE MOST ROMANTIC THING ON EARTH ♡ 10.5K

lewishasfallen

I’m sorry but lewis missing the spin because he was too excited to move into the next step is the CUTEST thing i’ve ever seen. ♡ 32.4K

  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

@CL16Updates

lewis hamilton via charles leclerc’s story.

HELLO?????

9.4k likes · 3.1k reposts

@16leclercdaily

lewis’ cheek on charles’ cheek. CHEEK ON CHEEK. i’m calling the police

4.4k likes . 284 reposts 

@LH44cl16

Charles is literally glowing. Glowing. that’s not fluorescent lighting baby that’s LOVE.🥹

9.8k likes . 5.6K reposts 

@charlespookie16

Lewis looks so comfortable it’s actually offensive to my wellbeing. WHO allowed this.

11.1K . 6.9k reposts

@lecharged 

HELLO?!!? CAN NO ONE SEE THE MATCHING OUTFITS 😭

1.3K . 230 reposts

  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

65,080 likes 

Charmedsixteen

Can we talk about Lewis’ latest accessory? Obsessed!🎧🤍

gridshippers

those are CUSTOM. AS IN SOMEONE PAID EXTRA ATTENTION TO HIM. AS IN!!!

lewis44simpclub  

I have a theory on who got him those headphones, charles leclerc ik what you are🤨

Monaboy16

no because why did sonara like this???

Sonara 

We’re glad he loves them. They were made with a lot of care.🎧❤️

Feralferrari

Lewis wearing them everywhere??? airport, paddock, hotel, walking into the garage?? OH he’s DOWN BAD.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──