re: here comes the sun ... has anything unprofessional ever happened in the garage? or anything where business is unfortunately (for the team) mixed with pleasure ...
i've had this in my inbox for ages now, but TODAY here comes the sun reached 300 kudos on ao3 which makes me very🥺🥺🥺 so here is 1.5k from the first race weekend of the 2025 season to celebrate!! not in the garage (sorry) but in seb's office! ns/fw text ahead
Charles feels like he’s on fire. He’s practically vibrating as he moves from the press area and back to the Ferrari motorhome, the only thing currently on his mind that he needs to find Seb, needs to see him right now.
Once he steps inside the motorhome, there are cheers all around him, firm pats on the back followed by sincere congratulations. Charles smiles at them, thanks them, but doesn’t linger. He makes his way upstairs quickly, heading for Seb’s office.
He’s got his fist raised, ready to knock on Seb’s door, when he hears footsteps approaching.
“Charles!”
He turns, lowers his hand, and sees Silvia walking towards him.
“Congratulations on pole position,” she says, smiling warmly at him. “That final lap was really something, we were all on the edge of our seats!”
Charles smiles in return. “Thank you, Silvia. I am very happy.”
“Of course you are,” she says, still smiling. Her eyes go to the door behind him. “Oh, are you looking for Seb?”
“Ah,” Charles says, hoping his face doesn’t give anything away. “Yes, I uh- I had some questions. About the race tomorrow.”
Silvia nods in understanding. “Well I’m sure he will be back soon,” she says.
Charles lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “Back?” he asks. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might not find Seb exactly where he wanted him, too focused on getting here as quickly as possible.
“Yes, he is outside doing an interview with Ted right now, I believe,” Silvia says.
“Oh,” Charles says. That puts a bit of a damper on his plan; put Seb and Ted together and they can talk for hours. He’s not sure he has the patience to wait that long right now.
“Actually,” Silvia continues, “I am glad I ran into you. We should do a video for instagram, I think, about quali. Is now a good time?”
Charles has to fight the urge to roll his eyes and groan. He’s just got back from doing what had felt like an endless amount of press, the last thing he wants to do is more of it. He smiles at her, tries to look apologetic instead of annoyed. “I am so tired,” he says. “I was thinking I would go take a nap, actually.”
It’s not technically a lie, his body is starting to feel heavier, the exhaustion from the race will surely catch up with him soon enough. But for now there’s still adrenaline pumping through his veins, keeping him alert and on edge.
He’s not sure he could relax right now even if he tried.
Silvia smiles at him, understanding. “Of course,” she says, nodding. “Come find me later though, we want to get it up before tomorrow.”
Charles nods, assures her he’ll definitely be there. She walks away, and as soon as she’s out of sight, Charles slips himself into Seb’s office.
He considers texting Seb, to tell him to hurry up, but then he spots his phone laying screen down on his desk next to some papers. He sighs, letting himself sink down into Seb’s chair. He still feels hot all over, antsy with an energy that he doesn’t know what to do with.
He knows what he wants to do with it, but that kind of requires Seb walking through the door and helping him. He lets his eyes fall closed as he thinks about it; about pushing Seb up against the door, their bodies flush together. Seb’s hands on him, gripping tight, lips trailing down his neck, across his chest. Fuck, he’s getting hard now. In his defense, he’s been half-hard since turn six of the final lap. The fact that he’s managed to compose himself for this long is impressive, really.
A quiet groan escapes him as he pushes the heel of his palm into his crotch, feeling how his dick is tenting up against his fireproofs and his race suit. If he’d gone to his driver’s room he’d probably already be touching himself by now, but being here, waiting for Seb, he holds off. He breathes out, hard through his nose, and pushes down again, just slightly, to relieve some of the urgency.
Then, he hears the door. His eyes fly open just in time to see Sebastian walking in. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise when he spots Charles, a small smile appearing on his face.
“Hey there, polesitter,” he says, voice warm, proud. His eyebrows knit together slightly, like he’s still a bit confused as to what Charles is doing here.
When his eyes fall on Charles’ hand, still pressed in between his legs, his mouth drops open, half in shock, half in realization. Without looking away from Charles, he quickly closes the door behind him, hand fumbling around to lock it.
“Jesus, Charles, you can’t just-” he’s saying, but Charles isn’t listening; is already up and moving towards him. He pushes up against him and cuts him off with a kiss. It’s hard, frantic. So desperate that it’s almost not even good, except this is Seb, and kissing Seb is always good.
Seb melts into it at first, his hands coming up to cup the back of Charles’ head, lets Charles set the pace, lets him take what he wants. Charles hums, nips at Seb’s lower lip, and then moves to kiss his jaw, his neck. He pushes his hips into Seb’s, desperate for some kind of friction.
There’s a quiet thud as Seb’s head falls back and hits the door. He lets out a low, breathy fuck, as Charles licks at a point on his neck that he knows is extra sensitive. Charles looks up, smirks when he sees that Seb’s eyes have fallen shut, lips parted and shiny with spit. He leans back in to kiss them again, revels in the way Seb’s hips stutter forwards when he does.
Charles hums, letting his hands travel up under Seb’s t-shirt, up over his stomach, touching the warm skin there, feeling as the muscles flex underneath his fingers.
Seb turns his head slightly, breaking the kiss. “We-” he starts, voice low and raspy. He clears his throat. “We’re at work.”
Charles wants to roll his eyes. He plants a kiss on Seb’s jaw again, circles his arms around his back. “Really?” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I did not notice.”
Seb huffs. Charles can tell he’s trying not to smile, knows how much Seb secretly loves it when he’s snarky.
“We agreed we wouldn’t,” Seb tries, referring to a conversation they’d had months ago, curled up together in Sebastian’s bed in Maranello. Charles knows this, remembers it clear as day. No funny business (Seb’s words) in the paddock, or the factory, or anywhere else even slightly related to the team or racing.
It’s a good rule. Sensible, really.
Charles doesn’t care.
He pushes his hips forwards again, lets out a little whine as his dick pushes up against the outline of Seb’s erection.
“Seb,” he says, mutters it into Seb’s skin. “I know you saw that final lap.” Just thinking about it makes Charles’ skin tingle; the way he’d hit every mark perfectly, pushing the car to its limit, feeling the rumble of the engine underneath him. He pulls his head back, lifts his eyes to meet Seb’s. “And I know you know what a lap like that feels like.”
He watches as Seb’s eyes darken, something shifting in them; his resolve crumbling under Charles’ gaze and Charles knows he’ll be getting what he wants. Seb surges forward to kiss him, finally giving Charles as good as he was getting. He pushes away from the wall, and they stumble across his office, until Charles can feel the edge of the desk digging into the back of his thighs.
His fingers come up to grapple with the zipper of Charles’ racing suit, makes quick work of pulling it down so it hangs around Charles’ waist. “You have to be quiet,” he says, whispering directly into Charles’ ear. His hands push at his fireproofs, pulling them and his underwear down.
When Seb wraps his fingers around Charles’ dick, Charles lets out a low groan that Seb quickly swallows down in a kiss.
“Quiet,” he reminds him. Charles nods, eyes closed, and sinks his teeth into his lower lip to stifle the noises that are threatening to spill out of him.
Seb’s mouth returns to his ear. “Were you hard?” he asks. His hand is stroking up and down firmly. Charles is so far gone already, struggles to understand what it is Seb’s asking. Of course he’s hard, that’s- “In the car,” Seb breathes, and oh, that makes more sense. He leaves a kiss against the side of Charles’ face. “Were you hard?”
Charles nods, breath coming out in heavy puffs. “Yeah.”
“God,” Seb moans, and then he’s kissing him again, his tongue pushing into Charles’ mouth like it belongs there. He pulls away, leans his forehead against Charles’. “What do you want?”
And isn’t that the million dollar question. Charles wants it all; he wants everything. He wants to win the race, wants to win the championship again. Wants to fuck Seb, wants Seb to fuck him so hard he still feels it when the red lights go out tomorrow.
“Your mouth,” he says, because he knows there’s no time for anything else, and honestly he doesn’t think he can wait much longer.
Seb nods against him, kisses him once, twice, before he sinks to his knees in front of him.
