#stuff e wrote

The First Time We Met We Hated Each Other

2007

"Can you pass me my–"

"–no."

"…At what point are you going to become mature?" You spat, expression curdling at the smugness on Carlos' face.

"You first."

"Kids," Carlos Sr, your sponsor and manager (who you affectionately called Lolo), scolded you both as he handed you the gloves you'd been trying to ask his son for. "Behave, both of you. If I get called up to talk about your behavior one more time you're going to find yourselves walking home," He grumbled, his words dragging the weight of all your past incidents behind them like a millstone. You and Carlos nodded your heads wordlessly, but not without sneaking glares at each other through your visors. "No more bumper cars on track either. I mean it."

Carlos Sr was a kind man. You were the only daughter of a single dad whose dreams of karting glory had been dashed by his own impoverished upbringing, and the rally champion had offered to sponsor you after seeing the promise you showed in your dad's beat up kart that he'd had since the 1970s. Since then, you'd grown to revere him not only as a mentor but also as a sort of fairy godfather who plucked you from your rags and transformed your pumpkin into a carriage.

While Sainz's generosity was not lost on you, your own father very quickly began to take advantage of it. Now in addition to sponsoring and managing you, Carlos Sr would often get calls the night before a race asking if he could drive you and act as your mechanic for the day. Whenever you asked your dad why he couldn't come, he always said he had to pick up another shift at work. "If you won't get a job then that means I have to miss your races sometimes," he'd tell you, as if you weren't thirteen and in school. As if he wasn't the one that wanted you to race in the first place, the one who put the taste in your mouth that you could no longer live without.

"I'm sorry you had to bring me today, Lolo," You sighed to your mentor while his son was doubtlessly rolling his eyes at you. The older man patted your helmet gently.

"It's no problem, Chiquita." He looked up and scowled at two boys clucking and snickering as they passed by on the way to the track. "Why do they always make chicken noises at you, Y/N?"

Because they say I have chicken legs, you thought, but merely shrugged to your mentor. "Maybe they think I'm scared."

Carlos didn't know why that made his blood boil. He should be relieved that you don't rat him and his friends out for teasing you. It was just infuriating that you never reacted. All he wanted was to get a rise out of you, to pay you back for stealing his father's attention away from him, but you never stood up for yourself, and in his eyes it made you weak.

"Don't walk so close to me, people might think we're friends," Carlos scoffed as the two of you made your way to your karts on the track.

"You wouldn't be so lucky," You spat back, flicking today's thumbtack off of your seat.

You were used to bullies. You were a girl in karting, it came with the territory. You were outnumbered and outclassed. It wasn't that you didn't care, or that what their tormenting didn't bother you. You wanted to kill them. But at the end of the day, why give them the satisfaction? You'd beat most of them anyway. Besides, you'd grown accustomed to it. Hiding your hair in your helmet before you went to the track made sure they couldn't yank your ponytail and checking your seat for thumbtacks had become part of your pre-race routine.

The race went well, with Carlos victorious and you taking P2. You wished your dad could have been there to see it. You definitely took some joy in turning to the rest of the boys pulling in behind you and giving them a little bow. Fuck them. You particularly reveled in the glare from Santi, the boy who came P3 and was also your worst offender. He was gangly for his age, sporting a face full of freckles and a head full of bad intentions.

Carlos was just happy to take the win, and couldn't have been thinking about you less as he and Santi headed to the podium. You lagged back, not interested in getting your hair pulled or tripped or anything else Santi had up his sleeve. The latter offered a piece of gum to Carlos as he gnawed obnoxiously on his own, which Carlos took and tossed into his mouth as you approached them. A disgusted grimace distorted your face while you watched Santi stretch his gum between his teeth with his dirty fingers. The three of you shuffled in awkward silence until Santi's name was called and his spindly legs ascended the steps to the podium, leaving you and Carlos alone. He was perfectly content to ignore you, not eager to ruin his good mood by interacting with you.

"Don't smack your gum like that, it's gross," You chided, pulling your hair tie out and letting your hair down as you shoved past him to follow Santi.

Carlos' eyes grew charred and spiteful. For some reason, that comment was the final straw for him. Sure, he teased you like the other boys did, but he never really wanted to hurt you. Not like Santi with his ponytail yanking and his thumb tacks. But now he was itching to. He'd held himself back for all these months while he watched his father coach you, dote on you, give you the time that should have belonged to him. And after all of this, now you're trying to boss him around?

"Fine," he growled, pulling the hot pink wad of gum from his tongue and smushing it against side of your head as you walked up the stairs. There was nothing you could do – you had no time to stand in shock and disgust, no time to turn around and punch him square in the jaw – so you just walked to your step on the podium, fighting back searing tears of embarrassment while you smiled and waved.

Carlos strutted up to the top step after you, but the half second of vindication that accompanied his lashing out quickly crumbled into heavy stones of guilt in the pit of his stomach. In the months that he'd known you, he had never seen a tear on your cheek, never seen your bottom lip quiver, never seen you break. He figured it would happen eventually, that Santi and the boys would go too far or your father would miss one too many races, but he never thought that he would be the one to make you cry. He never thought he would care. Yet here he was, against all odds or logical reasoning, caring.

He did his best to shake the feeling and tell himself that whatever it was, it wasn't compassion. It was fear, he rationalized, imagining how his father would react if he found out. He just didn't want to get in trouble, right?

Santi had evidently caught sight of your newest accessory and was howling with wicked laughter like a hyena in the face of weaker prey. "C'mon, Gummy, hop up," he jeered when he and Carlos positioned themselves on the top step for the group photo. Carlos waited for you to bite back at the bespeckled boy, to scoff at how unimaginative the nickname was, to throw the fact that you beat him in his face, anything. Instead, you stepped up silently, reluctantly wrapping an arm around Carlos' shoulder and forcing another smile for the cameras.

You stormed down the stairs as quickly as you could when the ceremony was over, disappearing from Carlos' view while he gathered his trophy and hat. He figured it was just best to go on ignoring you. He knew he'd hurt your feelings and that acting out hadn't brought him the satisfaction he'd hoped for, so it would be useless to continue to fight. He caught your gaze when he began descending the steps – you were waiting for him. Your cheeks were splotchy and crimson with embarrassment and your nostrils flared against heaving breaths as you tried not to cry.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" You asked, worlds firing at him at point blank range and with intent to kill. He tried to push past you but you gripped the shoulder of his race suit and tugged, turning him back to you. "I'm serious, Sainz, why the fuck would you do that to me? Do you realize that this isn't going to come out? I might have to shave the side of my head!" Carlos gulped. He hadn't realized that. Fuck. "What have I ever done to you?!"

His eyes were transfixed on the pink glob plastered against the long strands of hair growing just above your ear and his mouth hinged open and closed as he tried to figure out what to say. "Look, Y/N, I'm sorry," He tried.

You stepped back from him like the very air around him was poisoned. "Bullshit, you're sorry. Don't mock me."

Carlos' thick brows furrowed in frustration. He was trying to be nice, why couldn't you just accept that? "Why are you getting so pissed at me? I know I messed up, but Santi and the other guys have been doing shit like this for months and you never say anything to any of them!"

"Because they're too stupid to know any better and you're not!" You bit back, stunning him into silence. The words were sharp and sour against your lips as you jabbed your finger at him. "They can't help being cruel! Getting upset with them would be pointless, but you can help it and you chose not to! So fuck you, Sainz." The expletive sizzled in the negative space between you like venom as you picked at the gum that was still tangled in your hair. A single tear spilled onto your cheek, reminding him of a painting of a fallen angel he'd seen in school.

"I don't care if you hate me, but you're not allowed to hate me because I'm not well born or well brought up or from the kind of family that can summer in Mallorca every year! You're not allowed to hate me just because your father believes in me. And I know you think I'm weak because I'm not like you, but thank god I'm not. I don't want to be anything like you! I want to be like your father, and you should too." Your words stung like hornets as you turned to walk away.

All Carlos wanted was to be like his father. It was all he could think about until you came along. He wanted to blame you for distracting him, taking his eye off the prize, driving him to choose nastiness and derision instead of gentleness and generosity, but…

"You're right," Carlos sputtered, his words reaching out to stop you from walking way. You slowed, but didn't stop. The confession left him feeling naked, grossly vulnerable but…free. "You're right. You're right about all but one thing." This made you turn, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"And just what am I so wrong about?" You fumed, daring him to piss you off again.

"You're wrong not to believe that I'm sorry. I really am." Remorse bled around the edges of his tone, which cut through the air like an antidote. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Believe me, I don't know why, considering we can't stand each other but… I am so sorry."

Your razor blade gaze softened slightly, glistening eyes searching his guilty ones for the slightest hint of insincerity. You found none. All the space between his lashes that was usually reserved for contempt was now inexplicably occupied by contrition. It was the first time since you met him that Carlos' eyes had ever looked like his father's.

"Uh," Carlos offered, suddenly enthralled with picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, "I've heard you can get gum out of your hair with peanut butter. There's some in Papá's bag for when we make sandwiches, I think. I could help you get it out?"

Before either of you could say any more, Carlos Sr rounded the corner and approached the pair of you. "Congratulations, son," he smiled as he embraced the bashful teenager before turning to you. "Y/N, you drove beautifully…" He trailed off, noticing the sticky mess on the side of your head. He stepped over to you and knelt to examine the damage. "Did someone put gum in your hair?" Carlos paled with dread as you averted your eyes from his father. "Chiquita, who did this to you?"

Carlos bowed his dark head and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable fallout that would ensue the moment his name touched your tongue.

"Just one of the boys."

Carlos' large eyes flew wide with bewilderment, now scanning every inch of your face for an explanation. After everything, you'd just saved him. An announcement sounded over the speakers ordering the karts to be cleared from the track. The older man groaned. "I need to load the karts, but when I'm finished, I'm expecting you to tell me who it was, Y/N. You two just get your things packed please."

You nodded and floated past both men like a ghost, gazed fixed straight ahead even as your rival scrambled after you. "Why did you do that?" He asked when he was sure his father was out of earshot.

"I don't know."

---

Never in your life did you think you'd watch Carlos Sainz Jr. shove his entire fist into a jar of peanut butter, but here you were. The two of you sat cross legged on the floor of the little garage area where your things were stored while Carlos Sr facilitated loading the karts into the van. Your race suits were unzipped to your navels and your rib vests were discarded beside you.

"You look ridiculous." Your comment startled him slightly, dark eyes darting up to yours as he tried to wriggle his hand out of the mouth of the jar. It was the first time you'd spoken since he'd apologized, and the hint of humor under your words, however faint, made them taste homemade. He was careful not to look too amused as he pointed a peanut butter coated finger at you.

"You're awfully mouthy for someone at risk of getting this stuff dumped in their lap," he warned, though there was no intention behind his threat. You didn't respond, but your expression was soft. You were to him like a mountain covered in fresh snow – your usually spiky edges smoothed over and mellowed, but a cold stoniness remaining below, still treacherous and ready to defend.

The mouth of the plastic jar caught against his knuckles again and prompted an exasperated sigh. "Could you…" You complied even before he finished asking you to, grasping the base of the container and pulling it in the opposite direction until his hand came free, a glob of peanut butter clinging to his fingers. Carlos reached his hand out warily, like he was afraid of setting off a bomb he was trying to diffuse. You sat stiff as a board, allowing him to gingerly press the goopy paste to the offending gum wad in your hair, but shuddered at the squishing sound it made next to your ear.

"Sorry," Carlos cringed, a breathy chuckle slipping out without consent. "I…this is…"

"…so incredibly weird?" You finished. The absurdness of the situation as threatening to make you laugh in spite of yourself. Somehow, he was starting to crack the iciness you felt toward him. But you hated him, didn't you?

"So incredibly weird," he agreed as he tried to work the peanut butter against your scalp to loosen the gum's hold on it. "Okay, I think we have to let it…marinate or something." A smile tugged at your mouth as he leaned back on his elbows, but you did your best to hide it by chewing at your bottom lip. You didn't like how effortlessly he found little back doors and secret passageways to get past the walls you'd put up to keep him out. "I'm sorry I was so jealous," He admitted.

You sighed. "I'm sorry I yelled."

"I'm not," he shook his head, disturbing his fringe of thick black hair. "I needed someone to snap me out of it. Thanks for the snapping out."

This time you didn't hide your smirk, though it stung the raw skin beneath your eyes to do so. "I guess I should do it more often then."

He smiled back. "Honestly I'm surprised it took so long."

"You stand up for yourself and it makes you assertive. I stand up for myself and it makes me a bitch. If I want to make it to Formula One, I don't just need to be good, I need to be liked. I don't always have the luxury of self defense."

Carlos' eyes fell as he thought about what you'd said. "That… that doesn't seem fair."

"It doesn't, does it?" You agreed, though your tone bore no signs of condescension.

"Can I ask you something? And if it's stupid, just pretend I never said anything."

"Ask away," you nodded, "though knowing you it probably will be stupid."

"Oh, wow, thanks."

"C'mon, ask me."

"Why don't I hate you anymore?"

You gawked at him, a little taken aback by the question. Not because it didn't make sense, but at the fact that he asked it. "I was… I was thinking the same thing."

"It doesn't make any sense," Carlos continued, gesturing with his hand still covered in peanut butter. "We've never liked each other, I've been jealous of my father giving you all his attention, we regularly try to kill each other on track, and you just yelled at me and told me I was nothing like my father. I should hate you, right? So… why don't I?"

"Probably for the same reason I don't either, I guess. You've teased me for months, you put gum in my hair, and yes, we can't forget the numerous attempts at vehicular homicide. I have every reason to loathe you forever."

"But you don't?"

"I don't think so."

You both let the confession hang in the air like perfume for a moment. You picked at the skin on your thumbs awkwardly and Carlos chewed at his nails. "You should tell Papá the truth when he asks you." You met his gaze and quirked a brow, as if to ask him why. "For one, I probably deserve it, but also… he doesn't think like your dad does. He doesn't value being tough over being safe. I hope… I'm sorry if that was–"

"–No, it's fine," you reassured him.

"We can probably try to take the gum out now," He suggested. You nodded quietly, allowing him to lean towards you and gently pinch the troublesome wad between his fingers.

The two of you were so focused that you didn't notice the silhouette of Carlos Sr leaning against the doorway. He observed silently, taking in the way his son carefully pulled the gum from your hair, how you both recoiled and laughed when your gooey hair smacked against your cheek and stuck there. He'd never seen you smile at each other.

"Y/N," he finally spoke up, startling you slightly. You and Carlos got to your feet" as he approached. "I need you to tell me who put the gum in your hair. Your father has entrusted your safety to me, I'm not going to let you be treated like this."

You glanced at Carlos, who wore a curious expression – his chocolate eyes told you everything. Go on, they whispered, you should tell him the truth. You looked back to your mentor, who waited expectantly with arms crossed.

"It was Santi."

Both Sainz's eyebrows flew to their hairlines, though Carlos Sr's quickly fell back down in a scowl. "That brat," he sighed. "Alright, I'm going to mention it to his father." He placed the van keys into Carlos' clean hand. "Put your stuff in the car and wait for me. And," he smirked, "try to clean yourselves up, okay?" He patted your shoulder and mussed Carlos' hair before marching off, and you couldn't help but pity Santi's dad. Lolo's temper was nothing to sneeze at and you were pleased not to be on the receiving end.

When Carlos looked back at you incredulously, you just shrugged your shoulders and stuck out your hand. "Peace offering. Truce?"

A smile spread across your former rival's face and he smacked his peanut buttery hand against your outstretched one. The sticky brown pasted squelched between your palms and over your fingers as you shook hands vigorously. "Truce."

The Next Time We Met, We Became Friends

2010

Ever since that fateful day three years ago, Carlos had gone from your rival on and off track to one of your biggest defenders. Nobody dared to tease you (at least to your face) as soon as the son of El Matador was on your side. Though Santi had been left behind when the two of you started in Formula BMW earlier in the year, the nickname he had so rudely bestowed on you ended up catching on, to the point that even Carlos called you Gummy now. You didn't mind, honestly you found it endearing, and it reminded you of the day you and Carlos became friends. In return, you gave Carlos a nickname of his own – Chili.

The two of you were attached at the hip, both on the podium and off track, so it wasn't unusual for you to be sprawled out on your stomach across his hotel bedspread, his face below yours as you brushed a face mask across his cheeks.

"Why is it so cold?" He carped, clutching his arms over his bare chest in an effort to quell his goosebumps.

"Don't talk," you scolded, brushing the green mask between his upper lip and the tip of his arched nose. "You might hate it now, but in twenty minutes your skin will look so good that Carlotta won't be able to stay away from you."

He blushed beneath the cold paste layered over his face. The image of the tan, raven haired Italian girl from his class flashed across his mind and made his heart pound. "I don't think she'd want to get with me if she saw me right now." He was probably right – in addition to the vomit colored mask, his fringe was tied up with a scrunchie to keep it off of his face, making him look like some sort of demented unicorn.

"Well luckily she's not the one who has to look at you right now," you teased, rolling off the bed to wash the dirty brush in the bathroom sink.

"Speaking of crushes," he called, sitting up to lean against the headboard, "have you made a move on Viggo yet?" He knew that you had had a crush on a Scandinavian boy who raced in your series for a while now.

"No," you groaned, reentering the room and flopping down beside him on the bed. "I feel like I've made it obvious that I'm… interested. But I don't want to freak him out!"

"In that case, you're probably going to have to change your entire personality."

"Have I told you lately that I can't stand you, Chili?"

"Oh yes."

You smiled, resting your hands over your stomach and sighing contentedly as Carlos flipped through the channels on the TV. "Can I ask what might be a stupid question?"

"Better than anyone I know."

You rolled your eyes. "I know that you and Carlotta are into each other, but… have you kissed or anything?" Carlos shook his head but didn't take his eyes off of the movie on the screen. "Have you ever kissed someone?" He shook his head again, squirming slightly with embarrassment.

"Have you?" He asked.

"No," you hummed, adjusting your head to see the TV better. Your forehead was inches from the thigh of Carlos' flannel pajama pants. "I'm kinda scared that I'll be bad at it."

"Me too."

You tilted your gaze up to look at his face. His eyes were still glued to the screen, but you couldn't quite tell if he was just deeply invested in Buffalo Bill discussing lotion with a girl in a hole or if he was trying not to look at you. "I bet you wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

"Be bad at kissing."

He finally looked down at you. "Why, do you think about kissing me?"

You gagged. "No! No, I just… ew, Chili, I was just trying to be nice!" You laughed and smacked his leg, making him smile impishly.

"I don't think you'd be bad either."

It was a strange compliment. It was meant to be kind, but something about it made your stomach churn anxiously. The two of you resigned yourselves to silence, watching a Spanish dub of Silence of the Lambs and feeling like two poles of a magnet – there was a charge between you that hadn't been there before, but you couldn't tell if it was pulling you closer or forcing you apart. When your timer finally went off, you both lazily crawled off the bed and padded into the hotel bathroom.

"What if," Carlos began, voice bubbling as he splashed water on his face, "what if we could practice?"

"I don't follow," you mumbled through the bleach-stiffened washcloth you were using to remove the green sludge from your cheeks.

"I just mean… what if we kissed each other?"

You bristled, the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up and a flush blistering across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. You stared at him, eyes wide, and waited for an explanation.

"I don't mean kiss kiss," he backpedaled,  "But… look, we're sixteen, neither of us have had a first kiss and I think it's safe to say we're both kind of embarrassed about it. If we kissed each other, we could get the first kiss out of the way, zero pressure, and it could be practice for the real thing," he babbled, pulling his bangs out of their scrunchie and letting them flop onto his damp forehead. "You know what, just forget I said anything, it was a stupid idea –"

"–Okay."

"Really?" His big cow eyes gawked at you in the bathroom mirror, watching every flick of your own.

You shrugged. "If there's anyone I trust to not judge me, it's you. As long as it doesn't make anything weird."

Carlos shook his head vigorously. "It won't mean anything."

The two of you walked back onto the plush carpet of the hotel room, suddenly conscious of your bodies and the space between them as you stood and faced each other awkwardly. "So…" you trailed off, confused at the way your heart twisted as his gaze flitted between your eyes and your lips.

"I guess we should…" he breathed, shifting his weight nervously. His freckles were beginning to melt into the peachy blush rising in his cheeks.

"Why am I nervous?" You asked, voice more hushed than you'd intended, hardly audible over the horror movie that still droned on in the background.

"It's just me, Gummy."

You steeled yourself, taking a determined breath before closing your eyes and leaning in. It felt like an eternity before his lips touched yours. You both jolted back for a moment, surprised by the contact, before returning to each other more intentionally. The kiss was warm and achingly slow, deeply tender and exploratory.

But it didn't mean anything. It was just a simple gesture between two friends.

It didn't mean anything that your mouth found a home latched around his plush lower lip and your hands, unsure of where to go, moved to rest against his bare chest. It didn't mean anything the way his fingers fluttered along your jaw and beneath your chin, like if he touched you you'd slip from his grasp like water. It didn't mean anything the way his long nose pressed into your cheek and nuzzled there. It didn't mean anything that this was by far the most gentle another human had been with you, mentally, emotionally, physically. It didn't mean anything.

It wouldn't mean anything.

It couldn't.

It shouldn't.

It did.

The realization that something inside you felt entirely different moved you to pull away. He stared at you between thick lashes, breathing deeply through half parted lips. Finally, he spoke. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

You blinked, trying to banish the floating feeling in your legs and ground yourself. "Hm?"

"You said you were worried you'd be bad. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Oh," you breathed. "Thank you, I guess. Likewise. Carlotta is lucky."

"Thanks."

You pushed a loose hair behind your ear to try and expend some of the nervous energy building up in the pit of your stomach. "I should probably go. Your dad will be back from dinner soon and we both need to get some good sleep." You scurried past him and retrieved your facemask container and scrunchie from the bathroom before heading toward the door.

"Hey, Y/N?"

You turned to look at him. He hardly ever used your name anymore. "Yeah?"

"We're good, right?"

You gulped down the confusion the kiss had left you with and nodded. "Yeah. It didn't mean anything. We're all good."

---

2012

Carlos sipped on his coffee as Carlotta, his girlfriend of two years, curled into his side. It was Christmas morning, their first Christmas together, and the Sainz clan was milling around in pajamas and gradually gathering near the tree to unwrap their gifts. The driver's phone buzzed in the pocket of his sweatpants and he fished it out to answer it.

"Well, Happy Christmas, Gummy," Carlos grinned into the phone.

"Happy Christmas, Chili," you greeted back. "I'm sure you have lots of plans today so I won't take up much of your time, but I just wanted to wish you and the family happy holidays!"

Carlos lowered his phone. "Gummy says hi, everyone!" He announced, and was met with a series of pleased grunts that would have been more enthusiastic if their coffee had kicked in. He brought the phone back up to his ear. "What are you up to today?"

"Oh, not much," you sighed, "just hanging out."

"Is it nice to be home with your dad?" Carlos asked unceremoniously, but his dark brows furrowed at your silence before his shoulders slouched in realization. His own father, enthroned in his favorite armchair across the room, cocked his head at Carlos' change in demeanor. "He's not there, is he?"

"No."

"Where is he?" Carlos leaned forward, leaving Carlotta with no shoulder to perch her head against and one more reason to resent you.

"Uh, probably with his new girlfriend's family. I'm not really sure. He just told me they were going on a trip and wished me a happy Christmas."

"Well when did they leave?"

"Day before yesterday."

"Is anyone there with you?"  

"Chili, it's fine, you know I like my space anyway."

"Gummy, come on, are you really spending Christmas alone?"

Carlos Sr rose from his chair and migrated across the room to his son. "She's alone?" He asked. Carlos nodded. "Well tell her to come here straight away!"

"Gummy, Papá is insisting that you spend Christmas with us," Carlos relayed, rising to his feet.

"Chili…"

"No, no discussion. You're coming over, I'm leaving to pick you up right now."

"No, Chili, don't," you urged. "You don't want to drive your fancy car in my neighborhood. I promise I'll be there."

"If you're not here in an hour I'm coming to get you," he warned, though there was no suppressing the triumphant grin on his face at having convinced you to come over.

Carlotta sighed as Carlos sat back down in his couch crevice and wrapped an arm around her.  "What is it, amor?" He asked, kissing her cheek.

"Nothing, I just liked the idea of Christmas being just the family, that's all."

"Gummy is family, Lottie."

"I know, I know. I like her, I really do, it just feels strange to have you invite another woman over."

Carlos ran his free hand through his hair tiredly. "She's not another woman, amor, she's just Gummy," he promised as he brought his coffee cup to his lips.

45 minutes after the initial phone call, you pulled your beat up car into the driveway of the Sainz family home. You never liked the exterior of the house, it was too brutalist for your taste, but the inside was surprisingly warm and cozy, thought that may have just been because of the people who lived there.

You clutched a bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper that you'd picked up for Reyes and a tote bag packed with a change of clothes and your knitting was slung over your shoulder. You hesitated at the front door, urging your heart to slow down. For some reason, every once in a while, your heart would start pounding like a war drum when you were around Carlos. You figured it was because he stressed you out so much over the past year, which you spent as teammates in F3. The man drove like a crazy person, after all. It couldn't be those old feelings that pinched your heart two years ago in that hotel room. You simply wouldn't allow that.

Immediately after you knocked, the sound of raucous high pitched barking echoed behind the door and soon enough it swung open to reveal Blanca, Carlos' older sister. She squealed in delight and hugged you tightly while Oli jumped against your legs. "Gummy's here!" She called, leading you into the foyer. You quickly embraced Reyes and offered her the flowers, apologizing for showing up unannounced.

"Oh, stop it, Y/N, you know you're always welcome!" She pinched you before heading to the kitchen to put the flowers in water. You pulled off your hat and coat, which Blanca snatched from you, and you were immediately scooped into the arms of Carlos Sr.

"Thank you for having me, Lolo," You smiled into his embrace. "You really are too generous."

"Never too generous when it comes to you, Chiquita," he assured you as he gave you an extra squeeze. "Besides, I know you'll pay it forward by making me some hot chocolate later, yes?"

You laughed for the first time in days. "Yes, of course." Your mentor patted your shoulder before you crouched down, finally giving your attention to the yippity Maltese that had been begging for it. "Hi Oli!" You cooed as the dog jumped to lick your face. You feigned injury, falling to a heap on the floor and letting Oli leap and sniff all over you while you ruffled her fur.

"Not going to say hi to me?"

You looked up to see Carlos smiling down at you. "Why would I say hi to you? I'm here for your dog and your parents."

"Come have some coffee."

"Sorry, I'm not sure if you've noticed but I'm currently being mauled by a savage beast," you winked, gesturing to the cotton ball of rage he called a dog.

Carlos sighed and smirked at you impishly before grabbing hold of one of your ankles and dragging you across the wood floor like a horribly deformed mop while you screeched with laughter. He dropped your leg when he'd gotten you to the living room and you found yourself face to face, or rather face to fancy slipper, with Carlotta. The Italian woman leaned down, offered you her hand, which you took, and pulled you to your feet.

"Hi, Gummy," She greeted you, her voice sweet but stale like day old frosting.

"Hi, Carlotta," You nodded back, brushing off the dog hair that your clothes had collected on their trip across the floor. The two of you got along fine, but neither of you really had any desire to get to know each other on a deep level. It was just a bit of a square peg, round hole situation.

The living room was glowing with early morning sun through large windows and crackling firelight from the hearth. Christmas lights twinkled on the tree in the corner, under which laid a hoard of gifts that was almost overwhelming in its abundance. Your gaze shifted from the gifts to the people around them, who were all finding their seats: Lolo giving his youngest daughter a kiss on the cheek, Reyes offering the dogs a taste of the eggs leftover from breakfast, Blanca pulling a goofy face when she noticed your staring. It was such an unfamiliar thing for you, seeing such a happy family.

You were pulled from your musings by Carlos ruffling your hair before handing you a mug of coffee, prepared just the way you liked it, before sitting next to Carlotta on the couch behind you. The Italian woman spread her legs out over her boyfriend's lap as if to say back off.

"Gummy," fourteen year old Ana called from where she and Blanca had settled across the room. "Come sit with us!"

You smiled, stepping over Oli to get to the girls before turning to Reyes. "Do you need help passing out gifts?"

"Oh, no. That's the boys job," Carlos' mother smirked, perching on the arm of Lolo's chair and coaxing him out of it. Carlos got to his feet to join his father as you sat in the chair next to Blanca. Ana plopped down at your feet and you immediately raked your fingers through her long hair. Every time she saw you, Ana wanted you to braid her hair. You wove the strands in your fingers absentmindedly and smiled as the men handed gifts out to people. You didn't even mind that there would be nothing for you, you were just pleased to be there. It was the most content you'd felt in a while.

Carlos approached you and his sisters and waved a box in front of you. "Ana's pile is down there," you gestured with your head, hands still tangled in her hair.

"It's not for Ana, it's for you, idiot," he smirked. Your brows flew to your hairline in surprise.

"What?"

"Relax, it's really nothing. I'm just going to put it here, yeah?"

You nodded wordlessly as he set the box down. The gift opening commenced, and you suddenly felt nervous when it came to be your turn. "To Gummy, from Chili," you read off the tag, "may these things come in handy when you leave me in the dust." You quirked a curious brow at your teammate and smiled as you tore into the wrapping. The first thing you pulled out was a framed photo of the two of you in your race suits. You were perched on his shoulders and blowing a huge bubble while he laughed. The next thing you pulled out was a jar of peanut butter.

"It's so you can have one just in case I'm ever not around to get gum out of your hair," he beamed as you threw your head back with laughter.

"Have I told you lately that I can't stand you, Chili?"

---

Though this year had been your first Sainz family Christmas, the Sainz New Years Eve party was an event you never, ever missed. For the last three years, you'd come over for two things: festivities and a sleepover with Carlos. This year, while you knew you wouldn't be having a slumber party now that Carlotta was there, there were still plenty of traditions to uphold.

"It's almost time," Blanca shouted, wringing her hands at the TV in the living room.

"Okay!" You shouted from your post behind the bar in the kitchen. Nobody could mix a cocktail quite like you, and you always joked that the only good things your dad did were introducing you to racing and alcohol. "Chili, want your usual?"

He was too busy chatting to hear you, but Carlotta did.

"What's the usual?" she asked.

"He and I always have Manhattans on New Years," you explained, raising your own to show her.

"Ugh," she grimaced, "you're much braver than me. I don't like brown liquor. Just make him a tequila soda, I know he'll like that." You begrudgingly complied. He always had tequila around her because it was her favorite to steal sips from. It was sweet, you supposed. It just didn't really feel like him.

"You're lucky, you know."

"Why?" you asked. You couldn't think of anything you had that Carlotta should be jealous of. She was rich, gorgeous, in a long term relationship, came from a happy home…

Carlotta gestured to the Sainz family, all laughing together in the crowded living room. "They all like you better than me."

You paused. You were inclined to agree with her, after all the sisters both made their distaste for her relatively evident, and there was more than one occasion that you'd seen Lolo scowl at her. "I don't think that's true," you lied, but you were cut short by Carlos' eyes meeting yours and lighting up. You knew she saw it too. "But even if it was, Carlos doesn't," you continued, handing her Carlos' tequila soda. "That's what matters, right?" She nodded coldly.

"Gummy!" Carlos shouted over the din, "bring the grapes, come on!"

Everything with you and Carlos had to be a race. All through the last year when you were teammates in F3, you'd race to get into your cars, race to find your hotel rooms, race to finish your meals, to say nothing of the on-track racing going on. So it made sense that one of your New Years traditions was to compete to see who could eat their midnight grapes the fastest. The twist was that you were shoving grapes into each other's mouths. It started as a joke, just the two of you being stupid teenagers, but his family found it so funny that it had become a staple at every New Years party since.

"Okay, Carlos and Gummy, get ready!" Ana shouted as the countdown started. Because she wasn't allowed to drink yet, this was her biggest source of entertainment all evening. Carlotta scowled as you and Carlos poised yourselves like wrestlers about to grapple, overcome with fits of giggles. As soon as the first stroke of midnight hit, the two of you furiously crammed grapes into each other's cheeks, not really paying attention to the rest of the bell tolls. Everyone, including you, erupted into a fit of laughter. Somehow, you both managed to chew all twelve grapes before falling into each other's embrace. This, you thought, this is exactly where you belong.

Carlos had only just swallowed his final grape when Carlotta pulled him away from you and locked her lips with his. It was New Years, of course it was going to happen. But something in your chest cracked at the sight of them. It was like the stitches holding your heart together were cut, and now the whole thing was unraveling. You may not have known what love felt like, but acrid green jealousy was a familiar taste against your tongue.

The dam you had built to suppress everything suddenly crumbled without warning. Every feeling you'd had for your best friend since that night in the hotel, no, since he got gum out of your hair, crashed over you like a wave, and there was nothing you could do. The chapter of your life where you didn't care, or you could at least pretend not to, was finally closed, and it was like you'd forgotten to dog-ear the page.

You watched him kiss her, rest a large hand against the small of her back while the other one lazily nursed a glass of tequila soda. The music and cheering and merriment around you faded to a dull roar. You wanted to kiss the tequila from his lips – you didn't even like tequila, but maybe you'd like it that way. You wanted to feel his hands brush like butterfly wings against your face again, you wanted to feel his nose press into your cheek.

"Happy New Year, Chiquita," Lolo beamed, yanking you back to reality. There was a split second before you turned to the old man that you met Carlos' gaze, and you thought you might have seen a hint of longing in his bottomless brown eyes. You quickly shook the thought from your mind as you embraced Lolo. It couldn't have been longing. If anything, it was just your own reflection.

And Then We Fell In Love

2019

It had been seven years since you last acknowledged that you had feelings for your best friend. You'd done your best to quell them by convincing yourself that you'd just been lonely that night with nobody to kiss on New Years Eve. Ignoring your feelings quickly became a lot easier after that year, because the following season saw you move up to F2 and Carlos move to GP3 and Formula Renault 2.0.

Racing in different categories was the first time that you and Carlos didn't see each other every week since you'd met as children. The distance, while difficult, did make it easier to omit certain feelings that stained the edges of your memories together. Of course you still saw each other occasionally if you were in the same city and you still attended the Sainz New Years Eve party every year, but for the first time, Chili and Gummy no longer came as a packaged deal. It was like you two were on parallel trajectories – always the same, but never intersecting.

You moved up to Formula One in 2016, albeit as a Red Bull reserve driver, only a year after Carlos joined Toro Rosso. The world wasn't ready to see a woman in an F1 seat quite yet. Still, moving up to the racing category of your dreams also meant that you slowly began to see Carlos more, and of course you still got on like a house on fire. Casual waves across the paddock became an occasional lunch, until you were back to giggling like school girls and trading secrets in the wee hours of the morning.

Now, three years later, you had finally taken your rightful place on the grid, this time at Williams, alongside another younger rookie. George had become like a little brother to you, looking up to you and doing his best to get on your nerves whenever he needed a laugh.

While you still got plenty of hateful commentary from those who felt you had no business driving beside 19 other men on the grid, you had amassed a bit of a cult following over the years, particularly of young women who were seeing themselves represented in the sport for the first time. You were well liked throughout the paddock, and all of the drivers adored you (though none as much as Carlos). You were finally living your childhood dream.

So why were there nights that left you laying sleepless and aching for something you didn't know was missing?

Tonight was one of those nights, and you were almost thankful when your phone began buzzing on the nightstand. At least this was a distraction. You reached for it languidly and smiled at the caller ID.

"Can't sleep, Chili?" You picked up. The sound of a strangled sob on the other end of the line sent a shock down your spine and you jolted straight up. "What's wrong?"

"She was supposed to be the real thing."

"What?" You asked, already climbing out of bed.

"Carlotta and I broke up, we broke up and I need you to come over here." He rambled, his words running together like wet paint.

"Okay," you assured him, "okay, just hang on, I'm on my way."

Your mind was racing as you scurried down the quiet halls of the upscale hotel. You thought about how the one person who's opinion of you only seemed to sour every time she saw you was Carlotta. Though Carlos did his best to keep their relationship private, she was ever-present in the Mclaren garage and ever intent on keeping you at arms length. She had apparently gotten tired of Carlos' justifications of your friendship, not caring that you were "coworkers" or that you were just "one of the guys".

Maybe that's why your heart fluttered a little when he told you she was gone.

He looked a mess when he opened the door. His shaggy hair was sticking out in all directions like he'd brushed his hands through it a million times. His eyes were raw and red, their focus drifting under the weight of the tequila he'd consumed, the remainder of which sloshed brazenly in the bottle he clutched in one hand.

"Oh, Carlos," you sighed, your heart breaking for him. You expected him to fall into your arms, to invite you in, to start blubbering about how much he missed her, to fall flat on his face, something. But instead, he continued to block the entrance to his room with his broad shoulders and lean out unsteadily to look at you.

"I need you to do something for me," he slurred. His tone, while intoxicated, was deadly serious.

"Okay."

"I need you to tell me not to kiss you."

You stared at him, searching his grief-burned eyes for answers. Why is he asking you this? You didn't know. You just knew that you didn't want to do what he asked. Every second that lingered between you in this moment was another sledgehammer to the walls you were trying desperately to keep your feelings for him hidden behind. You thought you'd grown up, you thought you'd moved past this… this thing, whatever it was. This childhood crush, this love of all loves. You thought it had died, but oh god, this feeling inflating like a balloon in your chest was Lazarus, alive and walking and threatening to stomp on your heart.

"Why?" You asked, voice quiet.

His eyes bore into you and you watched him desperately trying to stay focused on your face as his balance wavered against the doorframe. "Because," he reasoned, shrugging his shoulders hopelessly, "it shouldn't be you."

You felt your heart screaming in your chest. Please, it begged, please make it stop, make him stop. He didn't want you. He wanted her. She was the one he'd practiced for on your lips. You were suddenly thirteen again, gum tangled in your hair, and he'd put it there. This man, your best friend, your soul mate, who stood inches from you, face dangerously close to your own, had just wadded up your heart and handed it back to you without even realizing it.

If you'd had an ounce less dignity, you would have kissed him anyway, right there in the hallway of the hotel. You would have let him imagine it was her just so you could have a little piece of him. You wanted so badly to let him make what to him would've been a mistake and to you would've been the answer to every prayer. But before you ever loved him, you were his friend, and as his friend you couldn't let him drunkenly destroy himself, even if you wanted him to. So you looked deeply into his limitless brown eyes, cleared your throat, and firmly told him, "Don't kiss me."

Your chest burned and your eyes threatened to well up as you spoke. Neither of you moved. He exhaled shakily, sending the stench of alcohol into your face. "Okay," he whispered. You watched a tear slip from his eye, and as you followed it down his scruffy cheek you felt one escape onto your own face. You were sure his tears were for her. You knew yours were for him.

"Okay," you nodded, tearing your gaze from his and forcing yourself to walk away. Just hold it together, you thought, keep your head up until you're back at your room. You didn't know whether he was still watching you or not. Sobs were beginning to push themselves into your throat even as you tried to swallow them down. The elevator doors dinged as you walked past them, and to your dismay Lando and George stepped off right in front of you.

"Hey, Gum–" George's jovial greeting was cut off when he caught sight of your face. "Hey, are you alright?"  

"Oh yeah, fine," You lied, hastily swiping a hand across your cheeks as you pushed past the two rookies. "Just got something in my eye. Um, Lando?" You added, clearing your voice to mask it's shaking, "Just a heads up, Carlos is pretty wasted in his room right now. If you get bored you might check in on him."

"O-okay," you heard the young Mclaren driver stutter behind you. You knew that neither of them bought your excuse, but you prayed they'd have to common sense to pretend.

You threw yourself onto your bed once you'd finally reached the sanctuary of your room, chest heaving out heartbroken cries into your pillow. It had been a long time since you'd felt so acutely alone. You just wanted your best friend to comfort you, to console you, to let you rant and rave and wail about everything you thought and felt. It just so happened that he was the one person who you could never, ever tell.

---

You sipped coldly on your even colder drink as you watched a blonde woman with seemingly endless legs fawn over Carlos, who was across the room at the bar. Sometimes you wondered if there was a supply closet full of leggy blonde women somewhere at the FIA headquarters. They were always in such heavy supply at galas like this one.

Your relationship with Carlos since that night a few weeks ago had become…strained. You weren't even sure if he remembered your conversation, he was so drunk. It was the first time since you'd become friends that you and Carlos hadn't talked about something. Maybe you would eventually, but for the past few weeks you'd been trying and failing to pretend like everything was normal.

You felt trapped, caught between the desire to preserve your friendship and the need to grieve, and while you tried to do so privately, the incessant Linda Ronstadt pouring from your driver room and lack of Mclaren-Williams movie nights had made George privy to a change in dynamic between you and your best friend.

So while George and Lando whispered across their table about feeling like children of divorce, you leaned against a pillar, leg jutting out of the impossibly high slit in your dress and manicured finger stirring your drink absentmindedly.

"Hey." Carlos' voice beside you nearly made you jump out of your skin. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just…" You looked at him expectantly, your gaze as indifferent as you could muster. "Do you want my cherry?"

The question brought a flush to your cheeks that you weren't expecting. Ever since he could drink, he'd always gotten his manhattans with cherries, even though he didn't really like them. He just knew that you did.

You nodded. "Sure."

He grinned, fishing his cherry out of his drink by it's stem and handing it to you gingerly so as to not drip anything on your dress. You plucked the ruby colored fruit from its stem with your teeth and bit into its succulent flesh, choosing to ignore the way his eyes flitted down to your red lips.

"I suppose I should consider myself lucky that you came over here to give me your cherry when there are such fair maidens to woo elsewhere." Carlos quirked a quizzical brow at you. "Miss fem-bot over at the bar?" You clarified.

"You're an ass."

You laughed put a hand to your heart in mock surprise. "You mean her acting like a complete sycophant didn't make you fall desperately in love with her?"

You watched Carlos pull at the collar of his dress shirt anxiously. "No. No, I'm not in love with her."

"Ooh, juicy. Who then?" You pressed. While you had to assume that his breakup with Carlotta was still very fresh in his mind, you hadn't talked about it. You'd asked once or twice if he'd wanted to, but he'd always declined. If you couldn't fulfill your best friend duties by being a shoulder to cry on, maybe encouraging him to get back out there would be enough to distract him from the obvious.

You looked up when he didn't answer your question to see him staring intently at you, and where you expected to find humor behind his eyes you were met with something else. It startled you a little, tripping an alarm in your head. "Carlos, stop."

"Stop what?"

"That's not a funny joke."

"I'm not laughing." It was true – you'd never seen his expression so stony. "Tell me you don't feel the same way."

This can't be happening, you thought, chest heaving and mouth hung slack in disbelief. Not after how hard you'd worked to get over him. You searched his deep brown eyes, which burned into yours with unmatchable intensity, for any way to debunk the myth he was trying to speak life into, because in your mind there was no way it could actually be true.

But your search was only rewarded with a look of longing – the longing you thought you'd made up on New Year's Eve seven years ago. It was the same look he'd given you after Carlotta had stolen him away for a kiss, which probably tasted like tequila when it could have tasted like cherries.

"I love you, Gummy."

You turned spitefully on your heel and marched away from him, though you knew he was not far behind, and cursed your wobbly stilettos for slowing you down as you rounded a corner to get away from prying eyes. "Don't mock me, Carlos."

 "Gummy, wait!" he called after you.

"I'm not going to stand here and let you make fun of me."

"How am I making fun of you?"

"I don't want to talk about this with you, Carlos."

"You talk about everything with me!" He urged. You whirled around to face him.

"Not this, Carlos. We don't talk about how unfair you're being."

"How am I being unfair?!"

"It was unfair to tell me to ask you not to kiss me," you hissed, jabbing your finger into his chest. "And it's unfair for you to just… just decide to say you love me because you're lonely!"

"You think I'm doing this because I'm lonely? You think I'm risking our friendship because I want to fuck you?"

"You said yourself it shouldn't be me, so honestly I have no idea what the fuck you're trying to do right now!"

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, though less out of exasperation and more out of remorse. "Fuck, Gummy, that's not what I meant."

"I'd love to know how you think I should have interpreted that," You spat, arms crossed.

Carlos waited for a moment, allowing the frustration and tension of the moment to dissipate so that nothing was clouding his eyes when he spoke to you. He felt thirteen again, trying to make things right with you while you stared him down. Your eyes hadn't changed. "I said it shouldn't be you because I didn't want to treat you like a rebound," he explained, voice steady and calm. "I didn't say that because you meant nothing, I said it because you mean everything. I didn't tell you I love you because I'm lonely. I'm telling you this because I realized that I've wanted you to be my last kiss ever since you were my first." His eyes never left yours, even as he dragged a hand up from your shoulder to brush your collarbone before coming to rest against your cheek. His gaze was arresting. "I realized that you were the real thing I was practicing for."

He stepped closer to you and cautiously reached out a hand to brush his fingers against your arm. "But you're right. It was unfair for me to ask that of you, and I'm sorry. You've been right about a lot of things, Y/n."

A shiver ran down your spine when he said your name. You'd been Gummy, his Gummy, for so long, that hearing your name roll off his tongue felt deeply intimate. "But?" you breathed, sensing that he wanted to continue and frozen by the feeling of his fingers fluttering against your bare skin.

"You're wrong not to believe I love you. Because I do. I really do." He scratched the back of his neck nervously, and suddenly you were children again. You knew that if he didn't mean it, you'd never be able to come back from this. But those eyes – those unwavering, striking eyes that made your heart twist in your chest – they never lied to you, not since you'd truly gazed into them for the first time twelve years ago. Just like back then, your glistening eyes searching his for the slightest hint of insincerity. And just like back then, you found none.

Without a second thought, your body propelled itself into his and you kissed him fiercely, even as he stumbled back slightly at your sudden advance, taking the waist of his tuxedo jacket in your fists. One large hand found your cheek and the other rested on the small of your back as though he was determined to keep you close. His lips tasted like whiskey, smooth and strong as they pressed desperately against yours over and over again. Gone was the sixteen year old boy who'd been afraid to touch you. Gone was the thirteen year old girl terrified of letting him in. You felt your lip quiver against his as you began to comprehend just how incandescently happy you were in that moment before he pulled away.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern weighing on his brow when he saw the tears in your eyes. His hand hadn't left your cheek.

"Have I told you lately that I can't stand you?" You laughed breathlessly, thumbing at the red lipstick that was now smeared over his mouth. It was something you'd said to him a million times before, but this time you both knew it meant I love you too. It meant I can't stand being away from you. It meant I can't stand the thought of you not being in my life. I can't stand how you keep putting gum in my hair, but I can't wait for you to always be here to help me get it out.

You'd never seen anyone's heart melt so plainly on their face before. His tourmaline eyes crinkled into a knowing smile that you had a sneaking suspicion you'd see for the rest of your life before he pulled you back in for a smoldering kiss. This time he was braver, more brazen, letting his hands roam down your sides, up your back, over your exposed thigh while yours found a home in his hair. Just as things were starting to heat up, an announcement sounded over the speakers in the ballroom around the corner asking everyone to take their seats.

"We should probably go back in," he panted against your lips, giving your thigh a squeeze.

You giggled. "I think we both need to clean up a little, Chili." His hair was disheveled and if that much of your lipstick had come off on his face, you could only imagine what you looked like.

Carlos appeared a moment later, hauling ass with his suitcase and garment bag in tow. Once the luggage was shoved in the car and Carlos had thrown himself into the passenger seat, Charles shifted into gear and the pair started their four and a half hour drive to Monaco.

Panting from the exertion of leaving in a rush, Carlos looked down at his watch. "We're cutting it close," he scowled, chewing anxiously at his bottom lip.

"It's gonna be fine, mate," Charles assured him, "Worst case we're fashionably late."

Carlos rolled his eyes at Charles' optimism, but not because he doubted him. Charles was already pushing the speed limit to ensure that being fashionably late was possible. The problem was that Carlos didn't want to be fashionably late. He wanted to be fashionably on time. He wanted to be fashionably early. It was your first major art exhibition, he wanted to be there.

Carlos shifted in his seat to more comfortably look out the window, taking in the blur of the Italian landscape that flew past him as he thought back to the night you'd found out you were accepted.

It was Carlos and Lando's final night in Monaco before jetting off to North America for the triple header, and Carlos had decided to take you on a date – a first date, he supposed, though it didn't really feel like it.  This relationship was definitely the most unusual he'd ever been in. In what felt like a blink of an eye, the two of you went from years of pining to all but confessing your love to one another, all while staying under the same roof. And after today your relationship would go from a live-in one to a long distance one. It was all kinds of bizarre and you both knew it, but at least for tonight he could sit across the table from you in a little restaurant by the sea and just…breathe.

The cool sea breeze played with loose strands of your hair as you smiled and thanked the waiter for your food, candlelight illuminating your gentle features. He was about to comment on how delicious everything looked when he noticed your smile falter as you glanced down at your phone, which lay idle amongst the candles and wine glasses on the table. You'd submitted your portfolio to the local modern art museum to be considered for their Emerging Artists Exhibition and had been waiting for a call from the gallery all day.

"Still nothing?" He asked, swirling his wine.

You shook your head. "No. I'm getting a feeling that they're not going to call me, and that's okay," you emphasized with a sigh, obviously trying to convince yourself too. "And for now, I would just like to sit here, with you, and enjoy the evening without thinking about it anymore. Is that okay?"

Carlos raised his glass to you. "Of course. Here's to a long overdue first date."

The breath felt like it was snatched from his lungs when you smiled back and raised your own wine with fingers that still had paint speckles on them. "Hopefully the first of many," you nodded before you both drank.

The evening was full of laughter, good food, and stories told against the soundtrack of waves crashing in the distance and lapping against the stone walls of the harbor. Candlelight hummed around you like fireflies and caught the twinkle that was ever present in Carlos' deep brown eyes. It wasn't until the food had been taken away and the check was forthcoming that the two of you fell into silence.

"What?" Carlos asked, noticing how your eyes scanned his face over and over again.

"Just looking at you."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," he joked.

"But if I paint you in my mind it'll last forever," you said back. Your voice was warm, but you weren't kidding. Carlos just watched you for a minute - the way you took in every feature, every pore and strand of hair, the way you memorized the candlelight slipping against the bridge of his nose and the curves of his lips. You really looked at him like he was art, he thought. All of a sudden he felt like his heart was cramming itself in his throat. He had never felt so much warmth from another person – he'd trusted his heart with one or two others throughout his life, but had never felt their hands cradle it, never felt their fingers handle it with such care – until now.

He wanted to smash your phone into a thousand pieces for ringing and breaking your gaze. When your eyes flicked down to the caller ID, you snatched it up quickly and jumped to your feet. "I'm sorry Carlos, I have to –"

"–go ahead, I'll settle the check and meet you." You nodded appreciatively before bringing the phone to your ear as you walked away.

"Hello? Yes, this is she…"

Once the bill had been paid, Carlos collected himself and strode out of the restaurant to look for you. After handing the valet his ticket, his heart all but splattered on the sidewalk when he saw you fighting back tears as you hung up the phone. He was at your side in an instant, gathering you in his arms and squeezing you tight. "What happened?"

"Um," you stuttered, trembling against him, "I'm really sorry, but I can't come to Abu Dhabi."

He pulled away from you, confusion weighing down his brow before revelation lifted it. "Do you mean…" he ventured, grabbing either side of your face with his large hands,"…are you saying one of your pieces got selected?" You laughed wetly and nodded.

Carlos' shocked expression tripped over itself into a massive grin and his eyes glittered with joy and pride as he kissed you. It wasn't a showy kiss, more like one that sort of slipped out of him before he could catch it. But you weren't complaining. And then –

Carlos was pulled from his reminiscences by his phone vibrating in his lap, convinced in that moment that the only thing keeping him from jumping straight out of his skin was his seatbelt. His heart swelled at your icon on the screen. "Hey, cariño, how are-" he stopped short when his ear was met with sobs.

"Carlos they don't know!"

"Who doesn't know what?" He pressed, relaxed posture forgotten and fear scraped across his face as he stiffened. Charles glanced over at him in concern.

"The fishermen!"

"The… the fishermen?" Carlos looked around, completely lost, as though maybe he would find a hint in the landscape outside.

"The fishermen in the painting," you bawled. "I don’t even know who they are and their likeness is about to be displayed in front of all those people for my benefit, and my life is going to change tonight because I painted them and they don't even know!"

Carlos relaxed back into his seat, biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing. "You're upset," he repeated out loud for Charles' benefit, "because you feel like you owe the fishermen in the painting a right to see it, but you don't know who they are?" Charles' eyes widened and his bottom lip jutted out in affectionate pity.

"Yes!" You blubbered. Carlos could hear Lando's voice trying (and failing) desperately to console you in the background.

"Mi vida, I think they'll forgive you." His sympathy was met with more wailing from you and more exasperated shouting from Lando. "Have you tried to rest today?"

"I don't want to sleep," you whined, "I couldn't even sleep last night, you think I'll be able to sleep now?"

"Mm," Carlos hummed. Things were starting to fall into place in his head. "Well, have you eaten recently?"

"My mum made some sandwiches."

"And did you eat any?" He prodded.

After a pregnant pause, you mumbled dejectedly, "I was…I was going to."

Carlos shook his head. "Y/n, go eat a sandwich and lay down, okay? It'll make the time go faster. I know it doesn't feel like it right now but I promise it will help."

You sighed. "Okay."

"Can you hand me to Lando please?" He waited patiently until he heard his former teammate's voice.

"Mate, you've gotta get here. She's loosing it," Lando moaned. "She's gone on three walks, three, in the last four hours, mum had to stop her from painting so she didn't ruin her nails, then she started painting again and ruined her nails anyway, and now she won't stop going on and on about these damn fishermen. I can't handle it, mate, I need help."

"Aren't your parents there too?" Carlos asked, and Charles' eyebrows twitched inquisitively.

"Yeah, but even mum is having a hard time controlling her!"

Carlos ran a hand through his hair. "Shit."

"When are you getting here?"

"Uh…" Carlos peaked at the map on Charles' phone, "We're going to get to Charles' apartment at eight."

"But the event starts at eight," Lando griped.

"I know, but we had meetings in Maranello until three and we have to go to Charles' to pick up Alexandra and get changed," Carlos reasoned. "Believe me, Charles is ready to break multitudinous traffic laws to make sure we get there as soon as possible."

"That was a big word for you," Lando sighed. "Alright, mate, be safe. Thank you for your minimal emotional support."

"Any time," Carlos chuckled as he hung up.

"Meeting her parents, huh?" Charles wheedled.

"Like I haven't met them hundreds of times before," Carlos shrugged, picking at the skin on his thumb.

"But then they were just Lando's parents, now they're your girlfriend's parents."

"Are you trying to stress me out?" Carlos spat, throwing his hand down to his lap and glowering at his teammate.

"Maybe a little," Charles smirked, nonplussed by Carlos' pointed gaze. "I'm bored, it's fun to fuck with you."

Carlos harumphed, crossing his arms grouchily, and Charles mercifully relented his teasing for the time being. The two men resigned themselves to silence, Carlos nodding off every few minutes and Charles humming softly to the radio as their surroundings grew more and more golden in the waning sunlight. "Charles?" Carlos mumbled sleepily from the passenger seat.

"Hm?"

"Thank you for doing this."

Charles' soft smile pressed a dimple into his cheek. "My pleasure mate. Wouldn't miss it. I've known her longer than you have, you know."

"I know."

"And at least now that you're dating her I get a co-driver for my road trip."

Carlos laughed breathily. "Glad we can be of service to each other."

"It's nice to see you care about something so strongly," Charles continued, flipping down his visor to avoid being blinded by the setting sun. "Besides racing, that is. Especially when the person is so worth caring about." Carlos didn't respond, but turned his head to look at Charles' profile with eyes more awake than they had been in the last hour. "But I'm sure you've already gotten the protective brother speech from Lando, no?"

"Lando, Max, Alexander, Daniel, George," Carlos listed, a smile tugging at his lips. "It's a wonder they've all managed to keep it under wraps, I don’t know why Lando told them all."

Charles chuckled. "Well then you probably don't need one from me. But know that if you needed one I would."

"I'd be offended if you didn't." Carlos stretched contentedly before closing his eyes again.

itsy/n

Liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and others

Tagged: landonorris

itsy/n in honor of one of my pieces being selected for the Monaco Modern Art Emerging Artist Exhibition, I thought I would share the whole collection with you here! The fangirls lurking on my page might recognize a familiar face ;) Stop in to see it December 1-14!

412 comments

username brilliant use of color. Impressive!

username omg I can't wait to go!

lilymhe my wifey is about to be so famousssss

-> itsy/n we r a power couple fr

-> alex_albon y/n we will only come if you promise not to kiss my girlfriend

-> itsy/n would if I could but I can't so I shan't

username that painting of Lando literally has me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

carlossainz55 beautiful 🧡

*Liked by itsy/n*

-> username um hello?? The heart??

mclaren loving the papaya and the painting of our boy! Looking forward to seeing you in the garage soon!

-> itsy/n the Norris household is a papaya household 🧡

danielricciardo how did you manage to make Lando actually look handsome?

-> landonorris  SHE PAINTED ME TRUE TO LIFE THAT’S HOW

-> maxverstappen1 there was definitely some artistic license taken

-> landonorris YOU ARE CHRONICALLY OFFLINE WHY ARE YOU LOGGING ON JUST TO BULLY ME

alexandrasaintmleux so so proud!! Putting it on the calendar now!

-> itsy/n muah muah muah

---

You plucked a champagne flute from a server's tray as soon as you walked in the door, Lando following suit behind you. A few other artists were milling around, a few of whom you knew and nodded politely to, but none well enough for their presence to put you at ease. Your little brother was your only company since your parents had been running late and suggested the two of you leave early, but even he wasn't enough to calm your nerves.

Carlos had wished you luck and told you that he and Charles hit some construction delays when you last spoke on the phone. Your lips told him to drive carefully even though your heart begged him to just get there. Your anxiety about the night ahead mixed with the ache of missing him made for a nauseating cocktail in the pit of your stomach, so you busied yourself with twisting each individual pearl that hung on the string around your neck and relishing in their polished coolness even through the tall black gloves you wore to cover the paint in your nailbeds.

"Maybe I should call him," you blurted out, taking Lando by surprise.

"What?"

"Maybe I should call Carlos. You know, to tell him he doesn't have to come if he doesn't want to." You looked to him for affirmation but all you got in return was a bug eyed stare like you had just sprouted seven heads. "I mean, it's just so public, you know? And he's so private, I don't–"

"–Christ, I forgot you were an idiot for a minute," Lando interjected before sipping his champagne.

You sighed, staring at the golden bubbles that shimmered from the base of your glass to the top. "You think I'm being insane, don't you?"

"I don’t think, I know," he jabbed playfully. "He's obsessed with you, y/n, he wouldn't have agreed to come to this if he didn't want to be seen with you in public. He's literally driving straight from Italy to be here. Just follow his lead if you're worried. Let his actions inform yours."

"When did you get so wise?"

"I've always been this way, you've just been too dense to notice."

"Attention," the museum curator piped up, turning all heads in the room. "Doors will open in five minutes!"

"Guess it's time to go find your painting," Lando suggested. You simply nodded, downing the rest of your drink and placing the glass on a passing tray before taking Lando's arm and heading off in search of your piece. You walked slowly, trying to be steady in your stilettos and avoid stepping on the hem of your dress. It was classic, strapless and jet black, and one wrong step would yank it down around your ankles. You shuddered at the mere thought.

Lando walked at your pace, allowing you to balance on his arm before he caught sight of your painting just around the next corner. His eyes darted to you – you hadn't seen it. "Wait here," he stopped you, unslinging his camera strap from his shoulder and jogging around the corner to where your painting hung proudly. "Okay, come here."

As soon as you rounded the corner he started snapping photos of your reaction when you stopped dead in your tracks, face to face with your little painting. It looked small against the blank white wall behind it, but something about it was mighty. The colors were bold and purposeful, making the paintings around it seem dull in comparison. It looked like it belonged there. Maybe if it belonged there, you could too.

"How cool is that?" Lando asked giddily, hanging his camera around his shoulder again and moving to stand beside you. "Look," he pointed, "there's even a little plaque with your name on it! They spelled your name right and everything!" Tears pricked your eyes at the sight and you tilted your head back to keep them from ruining your mascara.

"Shit," you muttered, too overwhelmed to do much more than fan your eyes and blink the moisture away. In the distance you heard the front doors open and what sounded like a good amount of people enter the building. Lando put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Bug, hey," he cooed, suddenly small. "You're gonna be great. And… I'm really proud of you."

"Christ, Lan, don't make me cry please," you hissed, but not without grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

The first familiar faces to file in were your parents, who gasped and gushed over you and your work and insisted on taking you photo in front of it. Obviously they'd seen it before, but now they were seeing it here.

"Fancy seeing you here!" Your head whirled at the unmistakable voice to see Max and Daniel striding toward you with a smile.

"Hi Moomin!" You exclaimed in surprise, throwing your arms around the dutchman while Lando greeted Danny. Max laughed at the nickname, which was for your use only and had been ever since you told him he looked like a Moomin when he was younger. "I didn't know you guys were coming!"

"Are you kidding? We wouldn't miss it!" Danny beamed, embracing you warmly but taking care not to mess up your hair or muss your dress.

You laughed. "Wild horses and all that?"

"Yeah, something like that," he chuckled, turning to Lando. "Are we the first ones here?"

"Yeah, but shouldn't be too long before the rest of them show up," Lando confirmed, hugging Max hello.

"What do you mean, the rest of who?" You asked.

"Oh nothing, nothing at all," Max quipped mischievously. "Can I get you some champagne?"

"Oh, yes please," you nodded vigorously. Max saluted you cartoonishly before heading off in search of refreshments.

"So," Daniel crossed his arms and looked at your painting with mock solemnity, "This is very lovely. Which one is Carlos?"

"None of them," You chuckled, "did Lando tell you?"

"Max did, actually. I'm really happy for you though, kid. Don't worry, he's gotten the big brother talk."

You laughed as Max appeared beside you. "You tattletale," you scolded him.

He handed you a champagne flute, "consider this my apology."

"Is he coming tonight?" Danny inquired.

"He's aiming to. He and Charles are trying to get back from Maranello as we speak," you answered. "I'm sure you know this but… we're not public yet or anything."

"Don't worry, I've been briefed."

You smiled before turning to your brother. "Lando? Will you ask Carlos his ETA please?"

"And you can't do it why?" Lando asked as he sidled over to you.

"I can't use my phone because gloves and I can't take off my gloves because paint." Lando sighed and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket to oblige. "Thank you," you smiled with mock sweetness and shifted uncomfortably in your heels, one of which had a very finicky strap that was acting up.

Over the next fifteen minutes you were joined by Alex, Lily, and to your surprise and delight, Lewis. You'd met him once before at Silverstone that year, but you were still in complete awe of him.

"I had no idea that all of you were going to come," you told them, aghast.

"Lando may have made an announcement in the grid group chat," Alex smirked. You turned to your little brother, who just shrugged bashfully.

---

Carlos and Charles launched out of their seats like they were spring loaded and retrieved their bags at record speed. "8:15!" Carlos barked as he and Charles thundered up the stairs of the latter's apartment building (the elevator took too long). "Fifteen minutes slower than what we were supposed to be!"

"It's not my fault there was construction!" Charles huffed. Even before they reached his unit, the door swung open to reveal Alexandra, looking effortlessly elegant, waiting to direct them in like an aircraft marshal. She was only missing the glowing wands and a Hi-Viz vest.

"Hurry!" She urged, railroading the two men inside. "Kiss me later, we need to move!" She chided when Charles tried to greet her, "Carlos, first door on the right!" The Spaniard waved in thanks over his head as he barreled into the empty bedroom and immediately started stripping down. He set about brushing his teeth and unzipping the garment bag containing his suit and dress shirt.

The next few minutes were chaos, heavy breathing and hustling footfalls only interrupted by the occasional "Carlos, have you seen my –" or "Charles, can I borrow–" or "shit, I just used your cologne, did you use mine?" before Alexandra asked if they were close enough for her to call the elevator.

Carlos' heart pounded as the three climbed into Charles' car and set off for Monaco Modern'Art. The pads of his fingers and the tips of his toes prickled with pins and needles, but he wasn't sure if it was from panting so heavily or excitement at the prospect of seeing you again. His heart thrummed against his ribs like they were harp strings and so much adrenaline coursed through his veins that he worried his teeth would start chattering.

When they finally pulled up to the museum, thirty five minutes later than he wanted to be, Alexandra smacked his shoulders from the back seat. "Go, go, go," she fussed, "we'll see to the car, you just get in there!"

---

"Shit," you mumbled to Lando, gesturing to a man and a woman pacing around with notebooks. "Those are extremely important buyers."

"Important buyers, you said?" Lewis asked, and you nodded. He smiled in a way that was almost mischievous and gestured for you to follow him. He stood a few feet away from the buyers in question and crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly serious. "Y/n, I have to say I find this painting really moving," he professed loud enough for them to hear. You stood next to him and tried not to smile at how insane your life felt in that moment (THE Lewis Hamilton was trying to help you market your painting!). "Can I ask you what your inspiration was when you made this?"

"I'm so glad you asked," you responded, trying to sound professional while still giving him an honest answer. "The impetus behind all of my work is finding beauty in the mundane, but even more so it's to capture the universal human desire for community, both in subject and in observance."

"Can you expand on that?"

"Well, take this painting for instance. You have three fishermen in their boat at dawn. You don't know if they're talking to each other, or if they're friends, or if they're even facing each other. But they're together. It's very much my intention to leave their relationship up to the beholder. However, regardless of what the beholder thinks about the fishermen, their point of view is quite far removed from the subjects. As an artist, I want to be in the boat, but I'm not."

Lewis nodded encouragingly, eyes alight with genuine interest as he listened. You could see your parents and friends in your peripheral trying to pretend like they weren't listening too.

"If you want to take it even further," you continued, "the very act of creating this painting is a plea for understanding. I find beauty in mundane things like three random fisherman just doing their job, and I want people who view my work to understand and relate to my gaze. As you can probably tell, I don't have a particular way with words, my brain scatters and my mouth just tries to catch up, but my brush," you gestured to your painting, "is a little more eloquent."

You were so engrossed in your conversation that you didn't notice a certain Spaniard rounding the corner in search of you.

"Forgive my intrusion," one of the buyers interjected, and it was all you could do not to grab Lewis' arm with excitement, "but I happened to overhear a bit of your conversation."

Carlos stood just out of your view as you guided the buyer closer to your painting, speaking animatedly with him about god only knows what. The driver just watched you for a moment, trying to paint you in his mind like you did him. The problem was, he wasn't an artist. All he knew was that in a room full of art, he would still stare at you. The way your eyes fizzed with passion as you spoke about your work, the brilliance of your smile, the cadence of your voice…

Carlos' breath hitched when the stranger shook your hand and left you, and he elected to seize his opportunity by the throat by maneuvering his way through the crowd until he was standing directly behind you. "I think the one you did of me is better, no?" He murmured just loud enough for you to hear. You whirled around so quickly that it even startled him and threw your arms around his neck with a gasp of surprise.

"You're here," was all you could manage as you vice gripped his suit jacket in your fists and he held you flush to him. Suddenly you wobbled, the wonky strap on your shoe finally coming loose. "Shit, sorry," you laughed as he steadied you, "my shoe…"

Wordlessly, Carlos guided you to a bench in the middle of the room and sat with you, swiveling your legs to face him and taking your ankle in his massive hands to adjust your shoe. You heard Lando snap a photo. "Carlos, you don't have to."

He looked up from your ankle strap with those big cow eyes that made your heart melt. "Don't have to what?"

"Well," gestured to his hands on your leg, "There are people around, I don't want you to feel like…like…" You trailed off, words swallowed up by the intensity of his gaze. Then, softly, innocently, he was kissing you. In front of everyone. You smiled against his plush lips until he pulled back to look at you.

"Whatever happened to hi, how are you?" You joked, leaning in to squeeze his hand.

He smirked. "Hi," he whispered, "how are you?"

itsy/n

Liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and others

Tagged landonorris, carlossainz55, lilymhe, alex_albon, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo

itsy/n I'm honestly blown away by how many people came by tonight. Anyone who knows me knows that showing my art in a museum is my biggest dream and I can't believe it came true tonight. Hard to believe my little painting of some little fishermen would change my life. A huge thank you to everyone who came to support me, especially my baby brother (I love u Lala) who has always been my fiercest ally, even when I took over half his apartment with my scribbles and dirty laundry. Oh and thank you to my boyfriend for making us carbonara after this <3

username BOYFRIEND??

username miss ma'am a HARD LAUNCH??

landonorris bug that photo was for MUM AND DAD ONLY

-> itsy/n maybe next time you'll think twice before refusing to take a nice photo with me

-> landonorris or mabye I'll think twice before setting you up

-> carlossainz55 I think that ship has sailed mate

landonorris I am literally begging you to delete that last photo

-> itsy/n no :)

charles_leclerc so glad we could be there for your special night, y/n! Now that everything's finally out in the open maybe we'll see you wear some red in the Ferrari garage next season

-> landonorris you back the fuck up rn

-> alexandrasaintmleux or at least maybe we can do a double date soon?

-> itsy/n as long as the couples are alex x y/n and carlos x charles I'm into it

-> username she's one of us fr

username I cannot handle this rn HALF THE GRID CAME?? AND SHE'S HARDLAUNCHING WITH CARLOS??

-> username lord I see what you've done for others –

-> username I want her life so bad

carlossainz55  mi hermosa artista 🩵

carlossainz55 if my boyfriend duties continue to consist of fixing your shoes, dancing with you, sitting for portraits and making you pasta then you're going to have a very hard time getting rid of me

-> itsy/n good thing I don't want to get rid of you

-> landonorris ew.

-> itsy/n get tf out of my comment section you crumb

lewishamilton that was so impressive, y/n. Thank you so much for having me!

-> itsy/n thank you so much!

-> landonorris quit fangirling

georgerussell63 Carmen and I are so sad we missed it! Next time though!

-> itsy/n I'll let it slide just this once

maxverstappen1 I feel like a proud big brother tbh

-> itsy/n Maxie I'm older than you

-> danielricciardo can I be the proud big brother I'm actually older

-> itsy/n yes

-> maxverstappen1 okay so I guess we're all just going to ignore how nice I was being

-> itsy/n I'm sorry moomin I love you

-> username MOOMIN

carlossainz55

Liked by lando.norris, itsy/n, charles_leclerc, and others

Tagged itsy/n

carlossainz55 Mi cielo, y/n, I am so proud of you. Your talent burns so bright and I feel so lucky that I get to sit back and watch you shine (and occasionally fasten your shoes). You are the star of the show and you deserve all the recognition in the world. I've always thought that, but now four years later I can finally tell you. Glad your annoying kid brother knocked some sense into us.

itsy/n te amo mucho, chili ❤️🌶️

-> username OMG ITS HAPPENING

itsy/n for anyone wondering if we were truly clueless for four years before we got together, we were not dating in the last two pictures

-> username girl…

-> lilymhe mama I can't believe you let him look at you like that and still thought he didn't like you

-> carlossainz55 I also can't believe she let me look at her like that and still thought I didn't like her

-> carmenmmundt and the cheek kissing, I mean my god

username STOP IS SHE PAINTING CARLOS IN THE THIRD PIC

lewishamilton congrats you two! 💜

alex_albon It's about time!

landonorris FINALLY THAT WAS A VERY DIFFICULT SECRET TO KEEP

-> oscarpiastri you told me literally three days after it happened

-> charles_leclerc you told me the day you found out

-> alex_albon same

-> maxverstappen1 you told me about it before it was even official

-> itsy/n so what I'm hearing is that you didn't keep it a secret

-> landonorris I KEPT IT A SECRET FROM THE WORLD!! Just maybe not like… my teammate and stuff

-> oscarpiastri I thought I was your world

landonorris also don't think I didn't see you call me annoying. You better watch you back (this is a threat) 🔪

-> carlossainz55 noted

charles_leclerc so happy for you both

-> itsy/n thank you Sha :)

-> charles_leclerc I will take it back if you keep calling me that

-> alexandrasaintmleux the amount of times this man almost spilled the beans

-> charles_leclerc why am I being attacked

username when will it be me

username I cannot get over Lando setting them up that's so tender

ferrari welcome to the ferrari family y/n! ❤️

-> landonorris YOU CAN'T HAVE HER

-> mclaren we're inclined to side with Lando on this one

lando.jpg

Liked by daniel3.jpg, carlossainz55, itsy/n and others

Tagged itsy/n, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, lilymhe

lando.jpg the big arteest and her many muses. Proud of you bug, pls don't make me regret setting you up.

alex_albon why is it that my girlfriend has made it to the jpg account and I haven't been featured at all

-> lilymhe skill issue

-> username GIRL–

username Carlos and y/n kissing in front of her painting is simply too much to bear

itsy/n Lala this is so sweet

-> lando.jpg bitch if you call me Lala on the internet one more time

lilymhe y/n I love youuuu we look so good

-> itsy/n I love you moreeeeee

-> alex_albon so Carlos and I are chopped liver apparently

-> carlossainz55 seems to be the case

-> username these 4 on a golf date when

Summary – Reggie Lambert has to prove she can do anything the other 19 men on the grid can do, and she can do it backwards and in heels. Rivals become brothers, glass ceilings are shattered, and she may fall in love before the final lap...

Pairing – F1 grid x fem!driver!reader, Carlos Sainz x fem!driver!reader

Warnings – References made to the loss of both parents, sexism, racing collisions, angst, tooth rotting fluff, dastardly language, etc. (individual chapters will be more specific)

Status – In the works!

Meet Reggie

Character Sheet

Character Playlist

Driver Bio

Character Art

2023 COTA two-step challenge

Chapters

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 – Coming Soon!

Headcanons / Blurbs / Requests

Regina “Reggie” Yvonne Lambert

Does she like her name?: She likes Reggie, hates Regina Nicknames: Reggie, Veggie, Pip, Bobo, Tex Birthday: 15th April, 2000 Age: 24 Zodiac: Aries Birthplace: Austin, TX Hometown: Austin, TX Current Residence: Paris, France

Nationality: American Ethnicity: Caucasian Languages: English (100%), French (100%), German (50%), Spanish (10%)

Gender: Cis Female Pronouns: She/Her/Hers Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Height: 5’6 (167.64cm) Weight: 120lbs (54kg) Eye Color: Hazel Hair Color: Blonde Tattoos: Right thigh, right ankle, left arm, right arm, spine Piercings: Ears (x2), right nostril Taste in clothes: Relatively androgynous, very eclectic Celebrity Lookalike: Cameron Diaz, Meg Ryan

Career

Occupation: Formula One Driver Current Team: Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team Current Teammate: Sir Lewis Hamilton Position: 2nd Driver Race Number: 72

Manager: Matthew “Mattie” Raider Operations Manager: Peter Joshua Personal Assistant: Tab Peake Trainer: Mark Mcloughlin Press Officer: Sylvie Grantaire Race Engineer: Stevie Lambert

Debut Race: 2023, Bahrain GP Debut Age: 23 Debut Team: Mclaren Debut Teammate: Lando Norris First Podium: 2023, Miami GP First Points: 2023, Bahrain GP Debut Race Win: 2024 US GP Official Colors: Red, Blue, and Yellow

Socials: @eaturreggies Opinions on Media: Varies. She doesn't have the most curated feed, but loves to entertain and participate in trends if it'll make the fans laugh.

Personal

MBTI: INFP-t Enneagram: 4w3 Strengths: Passionate, creative, daring, naturally talented, desires to learn, lighthearted, hardworking Weaknesses: Hotheaded, anxious, perfectionist, self-critical, people pleaser, emotional disregulation

Mother: Amelyn Lambert (deceased 2011) Father: Yves Lambert (deceased 2023) Younger Sister: Stevie Lambert Paternal Grandmother: Elenore Lambert

Best Friends: Lando Norris, Mick Schumacher, Stevie Lambert, Carlos Sainz Relationship Status: Single and cripplingly afraid of dating apps Role in her Friendships: Most often she's the class clown. As one of the youngest in the paddock, most of the grid see her rambunctious energy as endearing and feel like older brothers to her. Of course, that attitude all disappears on track. Role Models: Sebastian Vettel, Michael Schumacher, Susie Wolff, Lewis Hamilton

Hobbies and Skills: Photography, videography, art, horseback riding, e-sports, playing music, knitting, exploring Reggie-isms: Nail biting, leg bouncing, lip chewing, pre-race rituals (hugs, handshakes), singing / humming to herself, perpetual giggling, hyperfixation, talks to herself in the car, giving people ridiculous nicknames Likes: Family, friends, her kitten Franklin, music, art, photography, videography, reading / deep diving about hyperfixations, video games, puzzles, geography, classic tv and movies, getting dressed up Dislikes: Sexism, racism, homophobia, mansplaining, anyone or anything discriminatory or predatory, spinach, oysters, tequila

Medical History: ADHD, anxiety, depression, past ED, wears contact lenses Phobias: Katsaridaphobia (fear of cockroaches)

Favorite number: 27, 72, 427 Favorite color: Yellow Favorite animal: Otter Favorite emoji: 😂✨🤩🖕🤷‍♀️🏎️🩵🫡 Favorite season: Fall Favorite Books: How to Talk Dirty and Influence People by Lenny Bruce, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien Favorite Movies: Casablanca, Little Women, V for Vendetta, The Dead Poets Society, Silence of the Lambs, Jojo Rabbit Favorite food: Texas BBQ, cheeseburger, ramen, any sort of pasta, mushroom toast, burritos, grits, chicken and waffles Favorite desserts: Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked Ice Cream, brownies, York peppermint patties, crepes, chocolate chip cookies, peach cobbler Favorite drinks: French 75, French martini, light beer, red wine, Capri Sun, chocolate milk (non-dairy), chocolate milkshake, lemonade, guava juice

Reggie was born in Austin, TX to an American mother and French father, but moved to Paris at 13 to live with her Gigi to continue her racing career.

Caught the eye of Michael Schumacher who had contemplated mentoring her alongside his son Mick, who competed against her in karting. Sebastian Vettel ended up approaching her instead.

She remains close friends with Mick Schumacher.

Her younger sister Stevie, who showed deep interest in Reggie’s racing career but no interest in driving, became her race engineer in 2021.

Reggie became a 3x Formula 3 champion and 2x Formula 2 champion, catching the attention of Susie Wolff and Toto Wolff by extension.

She joined F1 in 2023 for Mclaren, making it the youngest team on the grid and her the first female driver of the modern era.

Reggie became inseparable from Lando (the pair was nicknamed the Chaos Kids by the rest of the grid). By proxy, she also became very close friends with Daniel, Max, and Carlos.

Her cheerful attitude and wicked sense of humor made her a favorite amongst drivers and fans.

She took her first podium as a rookie at the Miami GP, coming in P3, and also took P2 at COTA that same season. Her father invited the whole grid to Reggie's childhood home for barbecue to celebrate.

Shortly after the US Grand Prix, she signed a 5 year contract with Mercedes.

Though they were always friendly, once they became teammates Lewis became like an older brother to her.

After the death of her father at the end of 2023, she views the grid as her chosen family.