Taking Time Off
(Carlos Sainz x Fem!Reader) (she/her pronouns used)
Word Count: 2.9k (cool bro)
He needed to get away. To back off for just a second. The race last night was a lot and, on top of that, it was in his home country, Spain. He had not done so well but still placed good. He just thought, with it being a home race, he would have gotten at least a podium placement. For his family, for his friends, for his team. Charles tried cheering him up, being his teammate he always saw this side that Carlos would never dare let the media ever see. “Come on, Sainz. Let’s just go out or something.” Charles knocked a couple of times on the door before he went to open it. Locked. “Sainz, you can’t just sit in there and wallow in your sorrow alone.”
Carlos, locked in his dressing room, did not want to leave his room. First of all, if he left he’d have to go talk to the media and do some PR exclusives and he was not excited to talk about his ‘horrible driving’ today. “Charles, I am not leaving this room. That’s final.” Carlos stayed, lying on his floor with his water bottle tucked between his arm and side. His arms crossed over his chest as he analyzed his racing in his head, realizing what he could have changed, did, shouldn’t have done. But sighed, remembering that this was part of the contract. “It will only take a couple minutes, then you can disappear.” Charles sat at the doorway like a sad puppy, waiting for his owner to come out. Finally with a few moments of silence, the door clicked and opened with a very tired looking Carlos walking out. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”
Carlos was not in the talking mode at all and everyone could see it. So when Charles left him for some solo interviews, he was left by himself. Interview after interview, everything ticked him off. The questions, the attitudes, the blatant trash talk to him from the interviewers was getting to him but finally he was told that there were no more interviews needed. He left for his dressing room instantly, packing his bag to leave for his hotel room. Charles caught him with his duffel at his side. “Ready?” Charles asked with raised eyebrows. Carlos put one last thing into his bag before zipping it up. “Si.” He nodded and slung the bag over his shoulder. They left together for the hotel, them having separate rooms. Before entering their rooms, Charles called for Carlos’ attention. Carlos looked back at Charles. “Mm?” “Try to get some sleep tonight, yeah?” Carlos chuckled to his concern and saluted him. “Si, senor.” He unlocked his door and went inside. He set his bag on the ground and flopped on to his bed, groaning.
Carlos wanted to sleep, he really did, but in the back of his mind he wanted to get out. To get away for just a night. And maybe have some fun. So he got dressed for a casual-formal getaway. When he had landed here a couple days ago, he remembered a hang out spot he hadn’t been to since starting his F1 career. A jazz club. It was the way he relaxed and hung out with his close friends. But tonight he wanted to be alone, to ‘disappear’ like what Charles said.
He walked the streets of his home country with a familiarity washing over him. He looked around, remembering all the things he used to do as a teenager before he got ‘big’. He turned a corner and walked to the club like it was muscle-memory, seeing how different and unchanged some of the buildings looked. One shop was now out of business, another was still going strong. Just about everything brought the old with the new.
Finally he strode right up to the door of the club and inhaled sharply. Hopefully this hasn’t changed since leaving. He opened the door and to his wishes, it had not. The bar had polished up a bit since then but nonetheless, it looked just the same. Unchanged but a little grown in a way, like him now. It wasn’t too busy but not empty when he walked in. Heads turned but people were too busy with their dates or conversations to worry about a top tier Formula One Driver walking into the same bar as them. He exhaled a long breath, not realizing that he was holding it in. Now that he was ‘old enough’, he took a seat at the bar and sat there for a second to take in the moment of solidarity.
As he had his head hung just above the counter in front of him, he heard the music start playing. The music. That’s why he was here. For the atmosphere. The feeling like he was the one they were playing the music for. The drums started a rhythmic beat for the saxophone that began a slow but heart-felt solo. Carlos turned to the small band that played the music and gave them an appreciative nod, the sax player nodding back to him. He turned back around and got the attention of the bartender. He walked up and asked what he would like, he smiled and asked for red wine. The bartender cocked an eyebrow to him. Him being younger, he expected this man to order maybe a beer or something stronger like whiskey or tequila at the least. But no, Carlos just kept a small grin on his face. “I know.” The bartender chuckled and went to grab Cabernet, but Carlos put a hand up. “No, sorry. Merlot, por favor.” The bartender nodded and grabbed the bottle to the side of the Cabernet one. As he waited for his glass, he heard an angelic voice start to sing in a gentle spanish, someone that he had never heard. Her voice seemed to be from heaven in his mind as it brought memories from him at home with his mom when she would listen to music when doing mundane tasks around the house.
The bartender set the glass in front of him and nodded, “One glass of Merlot for you, senor.” Carlos smiled and took the glass in his hand, swishing it around. He smelt the aroma of the wine and took a small swig, closing his eyes. He set the glass back down, “Gracias, chico. Exactly what I needed.” The bartender nodded as he cleaned a glass in his hand. “Of course.” He walked away to clean up the counter down the bar.
He kept his back turned to the singer but he wanted to turn around, figure out who was singing. She kept a soft and quiet energy to the room as she sang a couple songs. The band faded out and she had a small solo, ending her session. Everyone in the club turned and clapped for her as she waved and thanked everyone. He turned to see who was singing and she matched exactly what her voice sounded like. The sleek black dress hugged her perfectly in some areas and let loose in others. He was starstruck, mouth slightly parted. The singer scanned the room intently, her eyes landing on him for a moment then reluctantly peeling her eyes away. He turned back around and took a swig from his glass. The bartender came back and noticed his absent-minded gaze on his glass. “Like the music?” He gestured to the band as he wiped his hands with a damp towel. Carlos snapped out of the gaze and scoffed, “Si, very beautiful…” He lightly caressed the mouth of the glass. “Her name’s Y/N. Just started around a week ago. She’s gotten a lot of love from the regulars and is currently bringing in newcomers.” He updated as he threw the towel over his shoulder. Carlos hummed to this information as he said the name over and over in his head. Y/N, what a lovely name.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her walk off the small stage to the end of the bar. He tried to not be weird and stare but his glances were lasting longer than they should have. She caught him as she looked up from her glass of something fruity she was sipping from, her lips pinched around a straw. She smiled slightly at him and winked, turning to face forward. He chuckled and ran a hand over his soft brown hair. The bartender, who just watched this happen, scoffed. “Wow. That’s new.” Carlos looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Mm?” He chuckled and gestured to the girl and him. “She does not do that. She’s very reserved and will barely look at anybody.” Carlos thought about the young man’s words and shook his head.
You had one more session before you headed back to your apartment. You loved this job, this is all you wanted to do was to sing. You never thought about being big or touring, it was the singing that got you going. The feeling, the sound, the community. It was what got you up in the morning. When you got this small gig opportunity, you freaked out because you had told your friends and family that singing for a small club would be where you settle and this was perfect. Tonight felt a little more special since it was marking one week here. That had been longer than most of the small gigs you had tried out. But everyone would tell you either ‘You’ll get there one day but not here.’ or ‘Why can’t you sing the way we want you to.’ Apparently people didn’t care for jazz or soul anymore but when you stumbled upon this place, they were exactly what you were wanting. Small, close, chill, and most of all, kind. Everyone here welcomed you with open arms, telling you that you were the best thing to happen to this club. Apparently there hasn’t been a singer here for years and finding you was practically a miracle to them.
The man that sat at the other end of the bar was absolutely breath-taking. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. His jacket fit him perfectly, showing off his back muscles. You’d never seen him here before but he looked like he belonged. He, also, looked familiar but you could place your finger on it. You like what you were seeing though, the hair, the eyes. Dark but soft, like he didn’t want to come off as mean or intimidating. You tried to keep your gaze on your glass in front of you. You didn’t drink when you sang, so your glass was partially filled with a Paloma Mocktail.
After your little break from the stage, the band went back up and started the instrumental. You didn’t need to be up there yet, so you sat with your back against the bar, watching your bandmates play. As you sipped away on your drink, you could feel it. The intense gaze of the man across the bar. To be completely honest, you liked it. There have been so many guys that come and go that flirt or try to get your number but he seemed to be different. Like he wasn’t going to be here for long, so he tried imbedding you into his memory. You finished your drink and turned around, getting the bartender’s attention. The small wave got him to walk towards you. “Whatcha need, mi’lady?” You pretended to think, putting a finger to your chin. “I think I’ll take a Paloma, por favor.” You chuckled and slowly pushed the glass toward him. He laughed and picked up the glass. “Of course. I’ll be right back.” You nodded and fiddled with your rings and bracelets, making sure they look the way you want them to.
He couldn’t take it. He needed to talk to you or at least compliment you. He would regret it if he never went up to you. So he finished his glass and set a couple twenties down. The bartender had his back turned to him, but could see him at the corner of his eye. He was about to say bye and have a good night. But Carlos didn’t go for the door, he walked toward you. He messed with his hair one more time before he made the rest of the way toward you. He inhaled sharply and cleared his throat, hopefully getting your attention. It did, you turned around to meet his soft brown eyes.
You tried to keep a smile from escaping your lips but he smiled first and it was contagious, so you followed suit. “Hola.” He greeted, leaning on the bar. You nodded and smiled back. “Hi.” You sounding plain compared to his strong accent. He chuckled, realizing that you weren’t from around here. “Ah, an American?” He presumed. You chuckled at how fast he caught on to your accent. “Yeah. I moved here around a year ago.” He sat down, ready to hear your whole life story if this was where it was leading. “If I may ask why?” You watched as he got comfortable next to you, his knee brushing the side of your leg, for just a moment. You shrugged at his question. “I just wanted something new. It’s so beautiful here. I visited once and told myself if I could, I’d move here. Now, here I am.”
He paid attention to every detail, the way your lip quirked up when talking about what you loved or the way you played with your hair when you were nervous. He liked it, he liked you. And he had talked to you for only a couple minutes. “It is very beautiful here. I’m glad the scenery is what got you here.” You smiled, agreeing with him. “Yeah, same.” Mr. Bartender came back with your drink and gave you both knowing glances. “There you go, Miss America.” He set the glass down for you with a napkin on the side. You mouthed a thank you as he slowly walked away. He watched as your lips connected with the glass while his mind went to other things, so he gazed down at the counter in front of him. He mentally shook off the shiver that went down his back. You set your glass down, not realizing what you had done to him without actually doing anything.
“What are you here for? I’ve never seen you here before.” He glanced at you as your voice pulled him out of his trance. “Work, but I’m from here actually.” He answered as he scratched his stubble. “I used to come here a lot, a long time ago.” You chuckled to his small story. “Well, you speak very good English. I’ll give you that.” You sipped from your glass once more. He reciprocated the compliment to you. “And you speak very good Spanish.” You gave him a confused look. Then he gestured to the stage. “A-ha, yes. Thank you. A lot of hard work.”
This was a breath of fresh air. A man not wanting you for a night for once. The conversation flowed as if y’all had been friends since childhood. He was happy to not talk about work for once or signing something every two seconds. When the last session came around, you slipped the jacket that had been resting on your shoulders. “I’ll be back.” You assured him. He smiled, meeting your gaze. “I'll be right here, waiting.”
The last session was hard enough because you were tired but with Carlos now watching you, shamelessly. It was sending shivers down your spine. Every lyric practically pointed to him ‘by accident’. You liked singing to him, especially in his language. It felt like you were on the same level here. Now the lyrics actually mean something, not just words. The song that ended the night was a friends to lovers song that you had loved all your life, so this was fitting.
The night had come to an end and the bartender cleaned up during your last song. Again, you thanked everyone like earlier but this was where they tipped and practically walked up to throw a couple dollars in your jar. You walked off stage, not really liking to watch the money rack because that’s not why you sang. You sang to sing, to let out what you can’t tell someone.
Carlos stood up as you grabbed your things. “Would you like a hand with anything?” He asked with a hand out to hold anything for you. You thought, not having a lot to hold. You smiled as you slung your purse over your shoulder. “Um, not really but…” You placed your hand in his with a chuckle. “Could you…?” He smiled at your bold move and squeezed your hand. “I would love to.” His voice was low and careful as if he talked too loud, it would scare you. He brought your hand up to his lips and placed a soft peck to the back of your hand. “May I walk you home?” He asked against your skin. You inhaled a shaky breath, not expecting the boldness reciprocated. The words got caught in your throat, all you could muster was a small nod to his request. He straight to his full height and slid your hand out of his. You slightly frowned but noticed he was just moving it to wrap around his bicep, pulling you closer to his side.
