Sophia’s Corner

"Oh, thanks, but I don't eat sweets."

"They're low on sugar and high on fiber. Are you sure?"

George does a double take at those words, eyes widening as he takes a second look at the jar you're offering him. You smile peacefully, and he glances at Charles standing behind you, arms crossed, a smug expression on his face.

"How did you make low sugar cookies? Cookies are basically all sugar," he asks, the confusion clear in his voice, taking a step closer to stare into the jar. "And those don't look like oatmeal."

"They aren't oatmeal," you agree. "They're vanilla."

George blinks.

"How?"

You grin.

"Secret recipe." And then you extend your arm in his direction to offer him a cookie again, and George glances at your boyfriend behind you suspiciously before taking one.

You take a few steps back to stand beside Charles as the two of you watch George chew the cookie, and Charles smiles when George's eyes widen in surprise.

"This is really good," surprise coats his every word, "like, really good."

"I know, right?" Your boyfriend nods, eyes sparkling with pride. "I could eat maybe a thousand of those per day."

"You'd shit yourself because of all the fiber, love."

"Still."

George is about to ask for another one when Charles's name is called by an engineer further inside, and then the two of you wave goodbye and start walking away, discussing your baked goods while he stands there, the taste of those cookies still lingering on his tongue.

He glares at the back of Charles's head for taking you back to his garage before he could grab another cookie. Or two. Or ten.

Maybe he needs to hang around the Ferrari garage more often.

Lando is sitting in the cool-down room next to Charles when he sees him snacking on a little square that looks to be covered in chocolate, filled with nuts, and, quite honestly, delicious.

He throws one of his gloves at the Monegasque to grab his attention, face full of interest.

"What are you eating?"

Charles swallows with a content sigh before answering.

"These energy bars my girlfriend baked for me. I don't know how she makes them, but they have a bunch of protein and my nutritionist approved. I think they're vegan too. Do you want one?"

"What the hell, why not?"

Charles gives him one of the squares from a small jar his team brought over after the race, and Lando looks at it with curiosity before taking a bite.

He chews for maybe one second, and then stills.

"What the fuck?"

Charles chuckles, a big smile on his face as he shoves a whole bar into his mouth.

"I know, right?"

Lando takes another bite, chewing slowly, savoring it.

"And you said your nutritionist approved?"

"Yeah, he said it's an amazing post-race snack."

"What the fuck."

"I know! It's pretty good, huh?"

Lando swallows, then turns to look at Charles with greedy eyes.

"Can I have another one?"

Charles hums in amusement, and then stands up, taking the jar with him.

"No, I don't think so. They're for me."

Lando stares at him with surprise, at a loss for words as Charles walks to the other side of the cool-down room, not even sparing him a glance.

"What the fuck?" He says for what feels like the hundredth time, already reminiscing the taste of those damn energy bars.

"Y/N."

You jump in surprise, eyes widening as you find Carlos staring at you as if you're some sort of prey, his body half hidden by a pillar close to the Ferrari garage.

"What the fuck, Carlos? You scared me," you complain, walking closer to him. "What are you doing here?"

"I sneaked out. The Williams guys will be searching for me soon."

You giggle at his serious tone, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Okay. Do you need me to get Charles?"

"No. I came here for you." You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, but it only seems to make him more determined. "Lando told me you've been making delicious snacks for Charles and, as his former teammate and your friend, I'd like a snack too."

You laugh loudly at that, hand coming up to cover your mouth as your eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Carlos, I make those for Charles."

"I know Lando has tasted them," he argues, face still so serious you can't help but giggle again, "George too. He said he's still dreaming about those cookies. I would like a cookie."

"I didn't bring cookies today." Carlos immediately deflates, expression painted with disappointment. "But I made him chips."

He perks up, eyes widening with interest.

"Chips?"

"I'm testing a new recipe," you nod, pulling him further into the Ferrari garage and bringing him towards your backpack, where a bunch of small ziplock bags full of crunchy homemade chips awaits, "I'm giving you one bag. But you can't tell Charles. He'll get jealous."

Carlos nods enthusiastically, taking the bag from your hands as if it's a newborn baby.

"You can trust me. Charles won't know."

"Good," and you start pushing him out of Ferrari's workplace as if you're sending him on a mission. "Go away before he sees you."

"Thank you!" He says excitedly before he starts running towards the Williams garage, leaving you giggling and rolling your eyes.

"Miss?"

Both you and Charles look up to find Oscar Piastri looking right down at you while you sit under the sun in the paddock, standing with his hands behind his back and looking awkward as hell. You can see Lando standing a couple of feet back, trying his hardest to not look involved, and yet looking almost as involved as if he was standing right beside his teammate.

"Hi, Oscar," you lean towards him, and Charles furrow his eyebrows. "Can we help you?"

"There's been talk around the paddock that you—well, that you brought muffins. Healthy muffins. And that we can eat them without getting yelled at by our doctors later."

It's Charles's turn to lean in, eyes narrowing.

"And who's the one spreading that sort of talk?"

From the corner of your vision, you can almost watch Lando shrink, taking a few more steps away from the three of you.

"Uhm." Oscar turns his head to look at his teammate, who immediately starts whistling in the worst effort to look innocent in the world. "I don't know?"

"I can give you a muffin," you shrug, already moving towards your duffel bag when Charles stops you, his eyes wide.

"Those are my muffins."

You stare at him as if he's gone insane.

"My love, it's one muffin."

"Two muffins," Lando's voice carries through the wind until it reaches the two of you, and then he starts whistling again, which makes it difficult for you not to smile, infinitely amused.

"You see that?" Charles points towards Lando, shaking his head in denial. "They're getting too confident. They're spreading gossip about your food. Soon enough, all of them will be asking for it. No muffins."

"We can just share one if you can't give us two," Oscar tries, and then flinches at the way your boyfriend turns to glare at him. "Maybe we can share half a muffin?"

"There's no need for that." You slap Charles's hand away from your bag and grab two muffins out of a big Tupperware inside it, extending your arm so you can offer them to the Australian. "There you go."

Oscar thanks you, voice full of excitement as he takes the two muffins from you and speed walks towards Lando, who throws you a happy thumbs up before taking Oscar by his upper arm and pulling him away.

Charles glares at you.

"Those were my muffins."

You giggle and then press a quick kiss to his lips.

"I can bake you muffins every day for the rest of our lives, dear. You can do without those two."

The rookies arrive to the Ferrari garage all at once, and Charles is groaning in annoyance before they even open their mouths to speak.

"No," he spits out angrily, "go away."

It's Gabi who speaks for the rookies, doing his best puppy dog eyes as Franco, Isack, Ollie, and Kimi stand behind him.

"Someone said you've got brownies today. We love brownies. Please?"

"No. No way. Get out of here."

"George said she doesn't mind giving some to the other drivers," Kimi pipes up from behind Gabi, also giving Charles his best sad face.

"I mind!" The Monegasque complains, gesturing wildly. "My cookies, my energy bars, my chips, my muffins, my brownies, my girlfriend. You guys keep eating everything — don't look at me like that, Franco, I know Pierre stole some of my mini bluberry pies the other day and brought one to you!"

"You started it," Isack argues, unfazed by Charles's death glare. "You offered your snacks to George and Lando. It's not fair to not let anyone else have them."

"I was willing to share one or two so people could know Y/N is the best baker in the world. I'm not willing to share with every driver on the grid until there's nothing left for me!"

"You sound like a child," are the first words out of your mouth as you finally reach the commotion, smiling softly at the rookies. "Hi, boys. I'm sorry, but I think we're all out of brownies — I gave the engineers some."

Charles's head snaps towards you. "You did what?!"

"Sorry, guys," you smile apologetically, and Gabi grumbles something that sounds like a it's okay, thank you anyway before he leaves the Ferrari garage, followed closely by the other rookies.

The second they're out of hearing range, Charles turns to glare at you accusingly, betrayal dripping from his voice.

"You gave all my brownies away to the engineers?"

You laugh loudly at his annoyance, moving closer so you can kiss his lips softly enough that the crease on his forehead disappears.

"No, I didn't give any of them away," you give him a conspiratory smile that makes him fall in love with you all over again, "I lied."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You lied?"

"I did," you shove at his shoulder teasingly, and he takes your wrist to pull you closer to him, nudging his nose against yours, "thought you didn't want to share."

"Damn right," he nods with unprecedented seriousness before kissing you again, smiling at the way you giggle against his lips. "My snacks, my brownies, my girlfriend."

Charles is cornered by Max, Kimi, and Lando during a random media day, after most duties are done with and the drivers are (supposedly) just hanging around for the evening before they can go back to their hotels. They push him into a nearby empty room, and that's when the Monegasque finds himself surrounded by quite a few of his grid mates — the ones who have already tasted your baking, yes, but also the rookies, who stare at him with narrow eyes, Max, who's failed to sneak into the Ferrari garage, and others who have heard the tales of your sweets and snacks.

"All of you against me? That's not right," is his immediate complaint, hands coming up in annoyance.

"You brought this upon yourself." Liam crosses his arms from one of the corners of the room, Pierre standing by his side. "You need to learn how to share."

"Share?!" And Charles's jaw falls open dramatically, his face painted with disbelief. "My beautiful, loving girlfriend learned how to bake nutritionist approved snacks just for me because she loves me, and you want me to share? You want me to share her love?"

"We can pay," Max offers, not even reacting to Charles's angry expression. "She sets a price, and we can all pay for her to bake extra snacks and sweets for us as well."

The others start to pipe up in agreement, nods and hums of approval going around the room as Charles shakes his head forcefully.

"No, no, no, no, no! My girlfriend's love is not for sale!"

"Why are you the only one who gets a sweet treat?" Carlos's voice rises up in the middle of the small crowd, and Charles shoots him a deadly glare while the rest of the drivers agree.

Soon enough, the room explodes into yelling, the drivers complaining loudly as Charles fights for the right to be the only one with access to your baking, heavily regretting ever trying to show you off to the rest of the grid, gesturing wildly towards Alex as he explains those treats are made specially for him, not for them, only for him, and they're not gonna bribe you into making treats for them, the stupid, jealous idiots.

Those treats are his, and Charles is not going to share.

"What do you think of lemon bars for the next race weekend?"

"Oh, lemon bars are such a good idea!"

You note the suggestion down on your notebook enthusiastically, barely noticing the faint screaming coming from a few rooms away.

"I could do the energy bars for media day. Charles loves them."

"Or you could do the vegan cinnamon rolls again. Those were fire."

You hum in acknowledgement, writing the options down as Lewis devours the strawberry shortcake you baked for the day.

"So, lemon bars for the race weekend, cinnamon rolls for media day? Any other requests?"

Lewis shrugs, cleaning some of the cream that got on his face with a napkin.

"I think those two are fine." He takes another bite of the shortcake, humming at the taste. "You know, you're really nice for letting me pick the snack menu every weekend."

"Don't worry about it." You don't look up as you finish writing on your notebook. "Just don't tell Charles, he'd die if he knew."

Lewis chuckles. "Yeah, I know. My lips are sealed."

You smile peacefully, completely unaware of the chaos unfolding elsewhere.

"Great. Lemon bars and cinnamon rolls it is."

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