He was tired. Exhausted from being on the road for three weeks in a row, the constant stress and pressure hanging over his head, making it impossible to relax. The hundreds of kilometres between you had made it impossible to be with you except for a few sparse moments over facetime where you tried to give him your entire focus. But it was difficult. There was always a distraction around the corner, wanting to steal you from him and he’d had enough.

He wanted to spend real time with you. Just enjoy the feeling of you in his arms as his shoulders lowered all the way for the first time in 20 days.

But he also wanted to watch a new movie he’d been looking forward to since the cast announcement had first appeared on his feed.

That was the reason for the puppy eyes he flashed you as you stood in front of him, arms crossed defiantly in front of your chest as you stared down at his open arms.

“Please, tesoro. Don’t you want me to relax?” His lip was jutted comically out, his fingers making grabby hands towards you like he was a small child wanting comfort.

“Kimi… that isn’t a relaxing movie.” You tried to hold your own, arguing hesitantly, but it was a lost cause and you knew it. It was impossible to disagree with him when he looked at you like that. When you hadn’t seen him for far too long and your hands ached to caress his hair and face and hold him as close as possible.

“For me it is.” He insisted, a smile finally breaking onto his face when you sunk down next to him, hands immediately finding his.

He pulled you closer, practically manhandling you into his lap before he was satisfied, placing a lingering kiss into your hair. Your hair that smelled so intensely of softness, comfort and home. The smell of you.

You let out a sigh, half exasperation, half contentment. You didn’t mind giving in to his wishes; not when he smiled so widely at you, like you’d gifted him something big and expensive and not just agreed to watch a gooey science fiction flick.

As the starting credits filled the screen in front of you, Kimi tightened his grip just slightly, as if making sure you wouldn’t move, wouldn’t leave his side even for second. Almost in reply, almost to assure him that you really were there, you melted further into his strong arms, leaning against his chest with silent contentment, even as the movie continued, scenes making you flinch and look away.

You didn’t pay much attention to the plot - in fact, you probably saw more of your boyfriends chest than of the actual action, but you didn’t mind. When it came to the brunette boy who had snaked his way so permanently into your heart, you’d do just about anything if it meant making him smile that carefree smile he only bore when he was completely relaxed. A smile you saw more than others. A smile that was worth enduring even the grossest zombie apocalypse film for.

-

You fell asleep before the end credits rolled around, your body curled entirely into his.

He hasn’t noticed, not until you let out a particularly loud breath, almost a mumble of something and buried yourself deeper into him.

His body stilled for a second, unsure what to do next, but the relaxing weight of your limps on top of his got to him. You were breathing almost in sync, as if even in your sleep, even in your most vulnerable form, you wanted to remind him that you loved him. That you trusted him.

And he loved you right back. The love and trust and safety you had become synonymous with filled his entire body as he inched himself into a more comfortable position, careful to keep you close.

You were sitting across from each other, the table between you forgotten with the way he was leaning across, his lean body as close to yours as he could manoeuvre himself. Your fingers were resting millimetres from his, twitching to reach out and touch, to experience the sparks just one more time.

Maybe he was thinking the same thing, maybe his brain was as caught up on you as yours were on him. Maybe he also felt like his heart was on the way to beat out of his chest as he inched his long fingers the last distance, enveloping your smaller hand completely under his as squeezed your skin tentatively, as if testing if it was okay - if you were feeling it as intensively as him.

You were. You were feeling every single cell against his, warm but still causing chills on your bare arms.

Your face was stuck in a permanent smile as he asked for the check and moved to pay before you even had time to consider pulling out your wallet. It stuck as he pulled out your chair and led you out with a strong but still so careful hand on your lower back. It widened just slightly when he offered his jacket to you, insisting you take it despite every argument you could get out of your babbling mouth. And when he took your hand on the walk to his car, your smile was so wide that you were scared your face would break apart.

“I really enjoyed today.” His voice, still boyish with that soft accent that made your stomach do somersaults, echoed on the empty street in front of your apartment complex as you lingered in front of the door.

“Me too.” You looked at him with what you hoped was intense earnestness. “I- uh…”

You wanted to say more, to put into words how magical it had been, but your throat closed up when he looked down at you like that. He was staring directly into your soul, as if trying to read your mind through your expressions, as if a nose scrunch was the secret key to everything going on inside.

You bit down on your lip, fingers holding tighter onto his where they were intertwined between your bodies. Your gaze was hesitant when you looked up at him, as if you weren’t exactly sure what to do next. He wasn’t sure either. He felt as if he had been plunged directly into the shallow end with the way you were looking at him. So unsure yet still completely secure in your thoughts, in your feelings, in what you yearned for next.

He leaned down slightly, just enough to give you the opportunity to meet him halfway. And that you did. You stood up on your tiptoes, hands snaking around his neck to hold yourself up as your lips met, soft on soft, warm on warm, hesitant on hesitant, but still perfect.

If her welcoming body language came from raising four kids, you didn’t know, but there was something so incredibly warm about her that made your shoulders sink back to normal almost immediately and you almost forgot how panicky you were before entering the paddock that morning.

Lando had reassured you the whole way in that easygoing way of his, as if nothing could go wrong. He’d kept his hand on your thigh the entire ride so he could give it a soft squeeze every time he saw you get a bit too caught up in your head.

“They’re going to love you, I promise.”

You hadn’t been so convinced, but he had just smiled and promised that even, if by some weird unfavourable marvel, they didn’t like you, it wouldn’t change anything. He was down bad for you. So hopelessly in love that not even his mother’s judgment was going to change that.

He was firm in his stance. It didn’t matter. But despite his earlier words, Lando couldn’t deny that seeing you laugh with his mum was a sight that warmed something inside of him. It was as if every single part of his body had gotten the same memo—that the moment called for nothing but warm joy—and the tingling feeling brought a wide smile to his face.

“She’s really lovely, son.” His father’s voice brought him out of his head and he turned to find Adam standing to the side, wearing a grin identical to his own. “Been stealing your mum’s attention all day.”

“Yeah?” Lando wasn’t paying full attention to his father, his eyes were still flickering over to your seat in the hospitality.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t keep the smile of his face. Not when his son was looking like that, so openly happy that it shone from every one of his cells. “Go say hi.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and in two long strides he was standing behind you, grinning at his mother as he clasped his hands onto your shoulders.

You jumped in surprise for a second, the touch unexpected, but you sat back down as soon as you recognised the familiar sound of laughter that had filled so many fond memories in your head.

“Hi, Lan.” You breathed.

“Hi, baby.” He leaned down press a kiss to your cheek, lingering for a second longer than necessary to inhale the smell of your perfume. The smell that lingered on your skin the same way it lingered on his bedsheets when you spent the night. The smell that had become equivalent with home.

You leaned back to look at him, grinning at the twinkle in his eyes as you found his gaze.

His hand moved to rest on your cheek, his touch feather soft as he caressed the skin, almost like he couldn’t believe that you were there. Supporting him, loving him, being his. It still surprised him every morning when he woke with his hand tangled lovingly with his, your cheek smushed against his bare chest as if his warmth brought you comfort. As if you were as dependent on him as he were on you.

His hand stayed on your skin, thump moving up and down your neck, and as you leaned into his touch, he met his mum’s gaze over your shoulder.

She was smiling softly, eyes tenderly observing the scene in front of her. When she caught him looking her way, she gave the slightest nod in his direction eyebrows raised in a way that didn’t need words.

She hadn’t been out of Monaco many times in her life. The opportunity had risen on numerous occasions, and had she been more adventurous, she would no doubt have been would-travelled by now, but alas, she was not. She was a homebody. Boring, safe and occasionally anxious. The complete opposite of whatever people envisioned whenever they romanticised her life. And so, the urge to call her mum—just to hear her voice and have at least something familiar to cling to—was getting stronger by the minute as the car drove through the busy streets, but she held herself back, biting the inside of her cheek instead.

This was supposed to be good. She had always been an avid lover of silly new year’s resolutions, someone who would come up with one every year without fail, but “new year, new me” had never been truer for her than in that moment. 

Taking the opportunity to pack up her life and spend half a year studying abroad in the famous city of London had seemed absolutely crazy at first. 

But then, when she for the third time in a week was stopped in her local grocery store by a fan of her brother who wanted to know about his whereabouts, the idea seemed suddenly more appealing. 

And then, when her on and off situationship finally ended it because he was angry that she hadn’t invited him to a Grand Prix yet, the idea seemed absolutely genius, and next thing she knew, she was getting her professors to set her up for two semesters at the University of London. 

And now, after two months of overthinking the decision and almost letting her brother talk her out of it (Arthur really hated change just as much as she did herself), she was finally here. In the heart of the city she had seen a hundred videos about, driving down the streets she had created three Pinterest boards romanticising. This was her chance of change, and damned be her if she didn’t welcome it with open arms.

-

The student apartment was small. Absolutely tiny compared to the extravaganza she was used to at home, but also small compared to an average apartment like the one her cousin owned on the coast of Liguria.

A single bed and a small wooden desk were all it currently held—and all it would come to hold as she hadn’t brought along any furniture nor planned to buy much—but the simplicity of it all somehow excited her. It was so different than what she was used to and it only made her want to dance in excitement.

According to the online information she had been given, classes would start already the next day. She should probably have gone down to the student counsellor to receive her schedule and whatever else she would need. Normally, she would be stressing and panicking about the fact that she didn’t have everything under control yet, but something about the newness of it all urged her to be adventurous. To be curious. 

And that’s how she found herself wandering the streets of Kensington, London late that Wednesday evening, no idea where she was going, and absolutely no idea where life would take her in the coming time. 

-

Her feet took her through the city with no real destination in mind. Thoughts were clouding her head in every corner, but somehow, the air against her skin and the sound of her soft footsteps on the pavement quietened them just a little bit. 

Later in the evening, after the mist had fallen and the cold air had started to make her shiver, she found herself sitting at the bar of small restaurant. She couldn’t recall how, but as she dug into her first meal since the lousy airplane snack she had after breakfast, she couldn’t really complain. 

Completely wrapped up in her own bubble of food and overwhelming, surprising happiness, she didn’t notice the person slipping onto the stool next to hers. She was completely uncaring and obvious until he with a gentle but firm nudge on her shoulder brought her from her mind back to reality. 

“Hey,” she couldn’t decide the accent, but the voice was slightly familiar. “Aren’t you Charles’ sister? Charles Leclerc, I mean.” 

With a politely concealed sigh, she turned her head to meet the person’s gaze. The irritation was already bubbling up in her, and she had to harshly bite the inside of her cheek before answering. “Yeah, that’s me.” The French accent she had been trying so hard to conceal all night fully returned as she locked eyes on guy. “And you’re…” she hesitated, intruding recognition flashing through her for a moment. “Ah - Ollie, no? Congratulations on the seat and all that.” 

His smile widened at the recognition in her tone. “Yep! Ollie Bearman in the flesh! And thank you.” 

She nodded politely, the smile already slipping. 

“What brings you here? In London all alone?” He didn’t seem to get the hint as he kept on talking, body now enthusiastically turned towards hers.

“I, umm… I’m staying here until summer. Some exchange system my university has with the University of London…” She brought a hand up to fiddle with a piece of hair by her ear. “I haven’t really had time meet anyone yet, so yeah, that’s why I’m alone.” 

“Oh, that’s great! You’re going to love London.” He clapped his hand down on his thigh as though to make a point. “You mind if I stay here and keep you company? My friends are probably going to forget about me either way, they’re here to get drunk.”

“And you aren’t?” She replied, head tilted slightly. 

He shook his head in return. “I’m trying to stay in shape—keep the head clear and all that. Plus, talking to you is probably more interesting.”

She hesitated for a moment, looking down at her lap to escape his intense eyes.