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Mick glances at him. Charles doesnāt look as tired as he did last year, DNF after disappointing race after DNF, biting his mouth in a smile with every interview. Heās P2 in the championship right now, or maybe P3, Mick canāt keep up. George and him keep trading it back and forth, Lewis firmly in P1 for the past two races. Charles, at least, finished in Monaco this year in the points.
āAlright,ā Mick says, shrugging. He moves his bag off of the chair beside him when it looks like Charles is going to stay and hover. āBut bored I think. Baking a lot. Gardening. He said something about sustainable farming in Mexico last week that I think heās going to check out.ā
āAh.ā Charles folds himself into the seat, graceful in his ungracefulness. Thereās a pink mark along the top of his left cheek. Mick wonders if he fell asleep in the drivers briefing again, chin in hand. āThat sounds like him.ā
The paddock is slowly emptying. Itās getting late. Mick should head soon. Heās not racing tomorrow but he is supposed to casually appear in the Williams garage to say hello to Alex. Heās hoping to leave earlier enough that he can pop in to see Guanyu before his practise session.
He stays where he is.
āHas he.ā Charles stops, chewing at the inside of his cheek, mouth pursing. āHas he been talking to Lewis, do you know?ā
Jenson was doing post race interviews last week and he made Lewis, grinning and sweating and triumphant, laugh for most of his five minutes. Mick sent it to Sebastian who left it on read.
āNo, I donāt know.ā
Lewis could very well win this year. He could win his eighth which, Mick wouldāve thought, Sebastian would want to be here for, after everything, especially after what happened last time. Charles doesnāt look at him for a long moment before exhaling, fingers rubbing at his mouth.
āBut I donāt think he has,ā Mick says and when Charles does look at him, his eyes are very brown and very wide and very sad. Like, twenty percent of my problems would be solved if you would keep your eyes closed and never look at me like that, Mick wants to say to him. Itās distracting.
āI should say it to him.ā
āYes.ā Charles brightens, smile tucking into his cheeks. Mick despairs over himself. āYou should, and then maybe I could? Subtly, of course, but it would be a shame for Sebastian not to be here. No matter what happens. They ā there is a lot to lose here.ā
He waves a hand, watch flashing, and Mick doesnāt know if heās talking about Formula One in general or the title or Lewis and Sebastian but he does know that Charles Leclerc has never been subtle a day in his life.
āRight. Sure.ā And when Charles smiles at him, teeth bright, eyes wide, Mick is helpless to not smile back.
āDonāt worry, Mick,ā Charles says, swaying into Mickās space, bumping his shoulder against his, and swaying back out. Heās smells of warm air and sweat and expensive cologne. āWe wonāt be like them. I promise to call you everyday after we retire.ā He crosses his chest.
Mick kind of wants to reach out and break those fingers for carefully saying retire instead of not racing. He wants to hold them close and press his mouth along the curve and slope of his knuckles, sucking them into his mouth until theyāre all he can taste. He also just wants to hold them between his, memorise their shape, and pretend that he knows how the car feels under them when he sees Charlesās onboard.
āAnd is that supposed to be an incentiveā¦..?ā
Charles laughs, heheing his hyena laugh that Carlos loves to mimic whenever he can, moving into Mickās space again, warm and solid, hand on Mickās elbow.
āYou couldnāt get rid of me if you tried.ā
Mick shakes his head and lets his mouth curl up at the corners, looking up through his lashes like he watched Sebastian do all ROC. āBet you say that to all the boys.ā
Charles coughs, spluttering, cheeks flushing red as his polo, and Mickās smile widens.
ā
āSo.ā Charles falls into step beside him. Heās wearing black and white checkered pants and a Ferrari branded jacket, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Itās unzipped at the throat, necklace glinting in the sun. āHave you talked to Seb like we said?ā
Mick looks up at the sky. Itās very blue and very clear, yawning wide above him. Roscoe trots ahead of them, cameras following him more than either of them, though a few break of to snap a few pictures of Charles in all his world championship leading glory. Mick is fairly sure he forgot to brush his hair this morning.
āYes,ā Mick says because Charles looks like heās about to ask the question again. āI have.ā
āAnd?ā Charles is half walking sideways to watch Mickās face. He wouldāve nearly bumped into three people already if they hadnāt moved out of the way. He looks ridiculous. Mick wants to pull him at his collar and press his nose under his ear, breathing him in.
Mick shrugs. āHe hasnāt talked to Lewis.ā
Charles visibly deflates, shoulders slumping, mouth turning down. He perks up again, like a cartoon character and not a real actual living person who drives Mick insane on a daily basis, when Mick continues, āBut he says he will.ā
āOkay, great!ā Charles smiles at him before squinting, dimming a little when Mick doesnāt keep talking. āIs that not great?ā
Mick hums, tilting his head from side to side. Roscoe looks back at them before continuing on, content that he is still being diligently followed. āDepends. He says that he will talk to Lewis if he wins this weekendās race.ā
Charles stops short as Mick keeps walking. Esteban spots the two of them as he heads their way, raising a hand in hello, before he sees whatever is on Charlesā face and ducks into the Alpine garage.
Charles jogs to catch up. āThat wasnāt very funny.ā He is smiling anyway, which, Mick knows, isnāt how to tell if Charles Leclerc is upset or not but he isnāt doing that horrible thing with his eyebrows that makes Mick want to cry when he sees it so Mick thinks itās probably alright.
āYeah, it kind of was,ā Mick says. āIt was Sebastianās idea, anyway.ā
Charles rolls his eyes, waving a hand, watch flashing. āItās always Sebastianās idea. He thinks he is very funny, that man.ā
āTo be fair, he often is.ā
Charles grins, easy and casual and all old school Hollywood, hair falling into his eyes, lashes dark. He pushes it away. āThat is true.ā
They walk in silence for a while, the snap shutter of cameras in the background. Mick watches Roscoeās little legs eat up the concrete. He wonders if Angie has had her walk yet today.
āWhat will you do after all of this, do you think?ā Charles has that look on his face that he gets sometimes, distant and remote, mouth a sharp line.
āI donāt know.ā Mick eyes him warily. If Charles says retire again Mick might have to kill someone just so he doesnāt scream himself hoarse.
āYes.ā Thereās a little divot in between Charlesās eyes, perfect and small and devastating. Mickās thumb could cover it if he reached out and touched it there. āNeither do I.ā
This championship race isnāt like last year, easier and harder in very different ways. Easier because Ferrari seems to have more of its shit together, quicker in the pitstops, smarter with the strategy. Harder too because now itās more on Charles, now, somehow, there is even less room for error when it is all on you. And then of course, he is racing against Lewis which is a whole other thing. Not that George, this year, or even Max, last year, arent difficult opponents but. Still.
āMaybe I will do what Yuki keeps talking about,ā Mick says, desperate suddenly for Charles to stop looking like that. For him to go back to smiling. Toto will not be impressed if thereās pictures circling where Mick is talking to Charles who looks like heās about to cry.
Charles looks at him, eyebrows raised. āYuki?ā
āYeah.ā Mick shoves his hands in his pockets. Roscoe is starting to slow, the heat and the long walk beginning to get to him. Mick will have to head back to the garage soon. āStart a restaurant, you know? Good food. Maybe some love music. Outdoor seating.ā
Charles throws back his head when he laughs, neck a long tanned line. A few people stop to stare. Mick tries not to roll his eyes. He doesnāt try to bite back his smile.
āThat is not a bad idea, mate.ā Charles says, nudging Mick with his elbow. āI would go. Bring Arthur.ā
Mick exaggerates a horrified expression to see Charles laugh again. Itās a nice sound.
āWhat kind of food would you make?ā Charles is seems very invested in an idea that Mick is still very unsure about and nearly mostly a joke.
āFrench. To make my ancestors proud.ā
This time when Charles laughs, Mick laughs with him.
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