a little flirting hurt no one (Charles Leclerc x Carlos Sainz)
Carlos is hopelessly in love with Lando, but isn't sure how to break it to him. That is until Charles comes up with a plan, to make Lando jealous. Fake dating. But what they don't expect is for their fake relationship to turn real.
Chapter 13: too much to say
And that was very clear when Carlos arrived like a shit-wreck at Charles's apartment.
His eyes had puffy black patches underneath them. Ruffled and greasy, his hair laid flat on his head, unlike its usual swept back position. His clothes (which were a white tee and black jacket) were extremely creased, slight bits of skin exposed as it wasn't tucked in properly. Overall, he looked like shit.
"Oh my god Carlos," Charles gasped at the horrid sight of his teammate, "Are you alright?" He moved aside to let Carlos through the door.
"Yeah I'm fine, now come on let's get some stuff ready," replied the older one, yawning and stretching.
Carlos raised an eyebrow, turning to face Charles, "What do you mean? We have to get ready."
"Not with you looking like this," argued Charles, "Come, I'll show you where you can sleep."
"Charles I swear I'm fi-"
"No you are not, Carlos," he cut him off, "You are to get some sleep or we're not going, and I'm not sure that's a very good impression."
"But Charles," Carlos tried to argue back, being cut off by Charles once again.
"Carlos are you coming or will I have to drag you by the feet."
Groaning, the Spaniard trailed behind Charles, following him nonetheless. He led him towards a big bedroom - presumably his - and opened the door for Carlos to enter.
The room was quiet spacious, dim sunshine offering little light to the bedroom. A large, king bed laid in the middle of the room, unmade duvets drooping over the edges. A pile of clothes - again, presumably Charles's - were tossed at its feet.
"I haven't set up the guest room because I didn't expect for you to arrive like this," began Charles, "So you can just have my bed."
"Charles I swear it's oka-"
"Do you want me to push you backwards on the bed?"
Deciding there was no winning this argument, he plopped backwards on the bed, landing with a loud thud. Charles let out a laugh, earning a side eye from the other one.
"Mate are you really going to sleep in jeans now? You won't get any sleep," giggled Charles, "Here take these."
He turned to the closet, Carlos not quite sure what he was looking for. Turning back to face Carlos, he tossed him a pair of sweatpants, "Here, these are much more comfortable."
He took the clothes with a groan, stripping down from his jeans. Feeling his cheeks fill with a shade of Ferrari, Charles quickly turned back to face the closet.
"I'll - just um.. get packing," he stuttered.
Carlos raised an eyebrow while putting on his sweats, but alas he was too tired due to his lack of sleep to question anything. He pulled up the sheets to his nose, head on pillow. He took in the scent of the sheets, they were so..
He ended up drifting off to sleep not long after, tiredness overwhelming him.
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"Carlos, sweetie, wake up please," the monegasque's soft voice woke him up from his sleep. He sat up to rest his back on the headboard, eyes still shut. Charles was sat at the end of the bed, head tilted forwards.
"Come on we have to get going, I made breakfast," he tried reassuring. Finally, the Spaniard managed to drag himself out of bed, hands rubbing his eyes.
Charles smiled, "I'll see you in the kitchen, you might want to change back into your jeans."
Carlos nodded, eyes still closed. He managed to change into his jeans, stumbling his way into the kitchen. Charles - who was already dressed - slid him a plate of pancakes.
"Here," he said, plating himself some, "I know how much you like pancakes."
And that was true, Carlos did love pancakes. As he took a seat on the kitchen island, he thought about how Charles had decided to make this for him. That he cared about him. It made his heart do things he would rather ignore.
"I already texted Lando about the cruise," Charles broke the silence, chewing on a piece of pancake, "We'll have to leave in a bit."
Carlos nodded in understanding, biting into his pancake himself. They ate in silence for the meal; a comfortable silence in contrast to the last one they had.
Once they had finished, they cleaned up the dishes; Carlos washing them and Charles drying them.
After they had finished washing the dishes, they made an exit through the door.
Carlos opened the door, dramatically bowing, "After you, cariño."
Rolling his eyes, Charles walked through the door, checking his watch to make sure they were on time.
"Come on now, don't want to be late, mon amour."
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They arrived to the harbor a little after 2, making sure to park their car somewhere discreet.
They didn't want more attention. They were here for at least some fun (though that would prove to be quite hard later on).
Heads peeking through the window, Charles tried to catch a glimpse of Lando before going out of the car; trying to save them the hustle of wandering around like idiots in search for him. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Charles finally got out of the car, followed by Carlos.
Squinting his eyes due to the sun, Charles's gaze roamed around the different ships and yachts. There weren't many people at the pier, not surprising considering it was a Wednesday. Most people come here during the weekends, which was a relief for the both of them.
Suddenly, there was a force on his wrist pulling him towards a nearby ship. Gaze darting towards the right to see who was dragging him, he caught Carlos gesturing his head towards a waving Lando. A warm smile was etched onto his and Lando's face, Carlos's hand moving to shake Lando's. Charles did the same, except a much more formal expression was drawn on Lando's face.
Arguably with the most sarcastic smile ever, Carlos shook Oscar's hand lazily, making sure to spend as little time in contact with it. Oscar wasn't very different, eyes piercing through Carlos's eyes and cutting his soul. This was how all their interactions went (if they were even allowed in the same vicinity).
For some reason unknown to man-kind, Carlos had hated Oscar long before he found out he was dating Lando. The Spaniard had wanted to gut Oscar from the first moment he stepped on track (or maybe even before), arguing he was "immature" and "unexperienced", though no one reason was to pinpoint his absolute hatred towards the Aussie.
"Right," Lando broke the thick silence caused by the tension between Oscar and Carlos, "We should get going inside, we don't have much time to waste if we want to have fun!" A nervous smile on his face indicated he wasn't very convinced his attempt at enlightening the mood had worked.
Carlos and Oscar, deciding to put aside their unknown beef, smiled at Lando before pushing their way past him and onto the cruise. Lando looked back over his shoulder to see Oscar sneer menacingly at Carlos. Looking back at Charles, both of them exchanged worried glances.
This wasn't proving to be the fun getaway they had expected.
Alas, they had to make the most of it; following shortly behind their teammates.
Circling his head like a curious child, Carlos took in the view of the cruise ship, ignoring the problem next to him. Saying it was large would be an understatement; it was colossal. Massive, ring floors encased the towering beast, a glimmering swimming pool in the center. A long corridor leading to the main reception and elevators tunneled underneath them.
Carlos dipped in the hallway, blocking off Oscar who shot him a dirty look. Charles and Lando were already leaning against the counter, the Brit's head bobbing forward to look for a receptionist. He sat down on a chair, legs crossing to rest on a table. He heard Oscar snort in disappointment behind him. That little bitch, he thought, head turning to face him.
"What's so funny, Piastri?" Carlos asked coldly. Oscar's eyes narrowed slightly; he hated hearing his name on the Spaniard's tongue.
"Great impression resting your feet on the table," responded the Aussie, sarcasm dripping in his voice. Deciding to ignore him, Carlos turned back to face the refined tapestry hung on the wall.
If this countinued, one of them wasn't going to be alive for much longer.
Thankfully, Charles emerged in front of them, breaking their bubble of negativity.
"Let's get going to our room Carlos," Charles stated, key card in his left hand, "See you later Oscar." Oscar offered a polite smile and nod, walking over to Lando. The Monegasque dragged Carlos up by the hand, quickly taking him away from the Aussie. His face was scrunched up in a stern look, clearly disappointed by the Spaniard.
"Mate, what the fuck was that," he began, "couldn't you have at least acted you weren't planning on murdering the poor boy by sunrise?"
Snatching his hand out of Charles's grip, his eyes conveyed a mix of anger and hurt. Anger caused by the tone in Charles's voice, and the hurt caused by him deciding to take Oscar's side.
"You don't know what happened between us," he whispered quietly, surprised by his tone considering he was bubbling with rage. It was low enough for Charles to not hear him, thankfully. Instead, the younger boy kept walking to the elevators, stepping in right before Carlos.
The elevator ride was a thick silence for the most part, the occasional ping when it passed a floor. It was covered in mirror, gold lining running across the walls. Finally, the silver doors parted to reveal the floor, beige walls with the occasional painting popping out of the dull colours.
Charles slid past the doors, slowing down his pace to stroll in the corridor. He quickly found the room as it was right by the elevators, he tapped the key card to open the room.
Teal paint spread across the wall, a large, animated painting of an ocean stood in the center of the back wall. A row of closets were lined against the left of the door, a small, illuminated vanity standing at the end of them. A king bed laid in the center of the room, light blue cushions and pillows propped up against the headboard.
Sliding past Charles, Carlos stood in the middle of the room, staring at the bed in front of him.
Something both of their single celled brains had not thought about before.
"I can just sleep on the floor," offered Carlos as he threw his suitcase on the bed, beginning to unpack.
"No, no I will," protested Charles, moving over to help Carlos, "It's your invitation after all."
Abruptly, the Spaniard took a step back, hands dropping the zipper. His eyes roamed the bed, as if searching for something.
"It's big enough for the both of us," concluded Carlos, nodding his head in agreement to his own statement.
Eyes shooting up to face him, Charles opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to why he couldn't say what was on his mind, "absolutely not", yet he didn't; he stayed quiet. The spaniard returned to his suitcase, fully unzipping it and beginning to stack some clothes.
Still baffled as to why he couldn't form words, Charles decided it was best to put aside the sleeping problem and get packing. He knelt down to open up his own suitcase; beginning to fold some clothes.
"Im going to head down for a walk at the deck, stretch a bit Y'know?" Carlos's voice diverted Charles's attention from packing. He looked up at his teammate, eyes blown open; baffled as to how he was able to pack away so quickly.
Laughing, the Spaniard clarified, "I'm a fast packer, and I didn't pack my entire wardrobe like you." Rolling his eyes, Charles went back to folding and putting away his clothes, muttering a 'goodbye' before Carlos exited through the doors.
He quickly closed the door, pausing for a moment to try and remember where the elevator was. Finally finding his way to the elevators, he caught sight of one of them closing. Quickly darting towards it, his hand slid between the metal doors; stopping it from closing. Though no sooner had he made the decision had he instantly regretted it.
In front of him, dressed in a black tee, was none other than Oscar. His eyes darted up to face Carlos, face curling into a sneer. Deciding to ignore him, he just stood beside Oscar, praying for the elevator to hurry the fuck up.
"What a coincidence seeing you here," muttered the Aussie, barely above a whisper.
"Just checking out the ship."
"Like you were doing to Lando."
The older boy's head had never twisted so fast in his life, eyes choking Oscar with their glare, "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about Piast-"
"Don't lie to me," he cut him off, "I know how badly you want to fuck him, it's so glaringly obvious."
Clenching his hands, a lopsided grin crept onto Carlos's face; very much in contrast to the emotions he was feeling, "You always have something to say, don't you Piastri," he said, referring to his radio messages.
"I just know you have even more to say, too scared to now but you seem to have no problem saying it to the media," the Aussie shot back, they were both at each other's throats by now.
The doors slid open, Oscar moving to step out. Suddenly, he was stopped by an aggressive hold on his wrist, pulling him to the right. He looked to his right to see Carlos pulling him towards a nearby restroom.
"Let go of me, you bastard," he choked out, but the Spaniard's grip was too strong on his hand. He was pulled into the bathroom, Carlos's hand leaving his wrist to push his shoulder against the wall. Oscar's hand moved to remove the hand off his shoulder, but was stopped by Carlos's hand grabbing it.
He was stopped by an aggressive kiss against his lips. It shouldn't feel good, but it did. His mouth tilted at an angle, trying to catch Carlos's lips better. His tongue teased at Oscar's lips, asking to slip in. Opening his mouth, the Spaniard's tongue quickly began to roam Oscar's mouth. Pulling away for a brief moment, Carlos bit down with as much brute force on his lip, earning a yelp from the other one. Oscar licked at the edge of his lips, metallic taste stinging his tongue. Pulling away, he smirked at the sight he had created of Oscar, flushed and panting.
"You always have too much to say, don't you?"
