summary: a short story of carlos becoming a father
words: 2K
warnings: one tiny swear word in spanish ig, otherwise nothing, just fluff fluff fluff and dad!carlos which deserves its own warning tbh
a/n: i know you love the dad!driver trope, @vetteltea, which is why i dedicate this blurb to you (though i think you'd maybe prefer this to be with seb now that i think about it), as a thank you for all the amazing fanfic you provide this fandom with. i love you so much, you're so talented, so inspiring, and i truly wish to be like you. <33
please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!
Carlos is still a little out of breath when he hears it for the first time.
A delayed red-eye flight and an excruciating traffic jam caused him to almost miss this appointment. The first he finally has the chance to attend – having had a race when the initial one happened –, and he almost missed it.
As a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face, obvious sign of how only seconds ago he was still running up the stairs of the hospital, a smile forms on his lips. Looking at her, lying down, the screen beside the bed showing a picture of their baby.
Well, at least they say it's that. For the love of God, Carlos can't see anything on it. He still nods along with a wide smile when the nurse asks him if he sees it. The focus shouldn't be on him and whether he can see it or not, but on his girlfriend.
God, this woman. He hasn't seen her in over a month now. And this is how they meet again: when they meet the little one officially as well, though on a screen only. Hell, the last time he saw her, they had no clue of this wonderful piece of news. From watching her wave with a smile through the glass at the airport, before he turned a corner towards his flight and disappeared, fast forward to now, when he catches sight of her lying form, just as gorgeous as ever, if not more, with a baby growing inside her. A creation by him and her.
They're gonna have a child, Carlos thinks, and as if it's the first time he realises this, his heart stops for a second. In happiness, in awe, in fear.
Because as the image on the screen gets displayed, and Carlos gets lost in-between words like embryo and transvaginal scan, suddenly the doctor announces that the baby indeed has a heartbeat, listen, you can hear it. And this one sentence, followed by the almost inaudible little thuds, is enough to make everything feel real.
Of course, he already knew what the positive pregnancy test meant, the one she showed him first on a FaceTime call, then sent as a separate picture later. But this, hearing that tiny heartbeat, it made everything even more real. They had actual proof now of what is going to happen in the near future. It might not have been planned, but it doesn't make it any less sweeter.
With his heart beating away in a rapid rhythm, he feels his facial muscles pull as his lips curve into a smile, so wide that it even showcases his pearly white teeth.
When he sees her the next time, the first thing Carlos does is place his palm against her tummy. The bump is already visible – well not in the hoodie she's currently wearing, but it's there underneath, he knows –, and he's been dreaming about holding it for many, many days now.
She lets out a giggle, throwing her head back a little, having expected a kiss upon her arrival, not this. Carlos practically doesn't pay her any attention, his sole focus is on talking with his baby.
Later on in the car she inquires jokingly the reason behind why she's not the first to be greeted by him, and he explains with a serious tone why that's the priority. "You get all this time to speak to her and bond with her, and she's already inside you which is a bonus, but she has to know exactly who her father is."
"She, huh?" she raises a teasing eyebrow, and he simply smiles, shrugging in a nonchalant way.
"I can feel it in my bones."
He looks so self-assured that she can't help but lean in and press her lips against his cheek. She still can't believe she'll get to have a kid with this man.
Doubt starts rising in his mind when they reach the third trimester. The date underlined in bright red in his calendar creeping closer and closer, making him more self-conscious and unsure than he's ever felt.
What if he won't be a good father? What if his job gets in the way of his child really feeling close to him? What is he supposed to do anyway? He already has no idea what he's doing in this whole pregnancy, safe to say, how is it going to be when he finally gets to hold the baby as well?
He's read multiple long articles, spending every flight he's had to take nose deep in his phone, until his eyes hurt and words started to lose their meaning. He wants to be the best father he can be.
This even includes several calls to his parents, asking for advice from them as well, trusting and valuing their words far more than the ones he can find online. He knows that his parents proved already that their methods work, they've been good parents to him and his siblings.
Still, the only thing that seems to reassure him is that they – the baby and him – have her. His superwoman of a girlfriend, who simply seems like she was actually born to do this, to be a mother, taking every obstacle in their way with a cheerful step and a smile reaching from ear to ear on her face.
How did he deserve her?
As he's gritting his teeth to stop himself from letting out a groan while the pain he's feeling in his hand spreads – mierda, this woman is strong – he repeats one sentence as a mantra. Only to keep him from worrying his heart out for the love of his life, who's currently letting out loud gasps and occasional curses, her eyes teary and her cheeks red from the strain of pushing and pushing and pushing.
I hope the baby looks like her.
Why is this so important to him? He has no idea. He doesn't even know why the thought popped into his mind in the first place. He just knows he has to keep on repeating it to divert his mind, otherwise he'll lose his sanity.
Simply, he has to focus on picturing a baby with her eyes, her hair colour, the elegant line of her nose, the curve of her lips, her rosy cheeks. Every inch of their baby looking like a mini-her. Because what would be better than looking at his girlfriend and marvel at her beauty? Of course, looking at her and his daughter, and seeing the exact same beauty? Sure, it would be nice to have a tiny detail of him in their baby girl somewhere, just so that it would be obvious to the whole wide world that this is his baby, that the woman giving birth to her now is his woman. Maybe the exact copy of his eye colour? Or his locks of hair, silky and thick? It doesn't matter. Honestly, who cares about how she looks, he will love her no matter what. With his whole heart, with more love, a deeper connection than he's ever felt before.
Minutes pass, then some more, until it feels like an eternity has gone by since they arrived to the hospital. But then he hears it – crying. The unmistakable baby sound, entering the haze of his mind like a sharp knife, bringing him back to reality in a millisecond.
Everything seems to quicken up, and the next thing he knows is that the bundle of his child is placed in his arms, and after that initial wave of slightly terrified chills running through his body, immediately a mixture of relief, joy and tranquility spreads in his veins. He has no idea why he was so scared this whole time. This is... subconscious. Instinctive. Meant to be.
In that very moment he wordlessly promises the baby to always be there for her, always looking out for her, always caring and loving her with all of his heart. He won't let any harm ever reach her.
"Congratulations, Mr. Sainz, on the birth of your son," the doctor approaches him, and that last word bursts the bubble Carlos has been surrounded with.
Son?
His eyes widen, lips fall slightly open in shock – right until he hears the exhausted sounding but unmistakable giggle coming from the bed. "I told you," she grins.
"A boy," he mumbles dreamily, glancing at his girlfriend, lips curving into a smile matching hers.
"Good thing I came prepared with boy names as well," she continues, slight pants leaving her lungs still.
The memory when she practically wanted to force him into choosing a male name as well, just in case – because he was so sure about their baby being a girl that he didn't even want to spend a moment thinking about names for the other sex –, pops into his mind, and he shakes his head. He was wrong.
Tiny feet patter on the floor, growing louder and louder, before a second later they suddenly cease and get replaced by a high-pitched giggle.
She glances up just as Carlos appears in the doorway to the kitchen, their son hanging from his arms, his little cheeks red from all the laughter. Her heart swells at the sight and sounds, her eyes shine bright, connecting with his easily – the love of her life.
Miracle. That's what the little boy is in their lives.
Watching Carlos be a father has been the best thing she's ever had the chance to witness. The way he plays with him, practically going back to being a child, his sole focus being on entertaining his son.
The Sainz household they established not too long ago is filled with laughter every day, the walls reverberating with the joyous sounds until they fill their hearts.
"When's dinner ready, mi amor?" Carlos leans in, pressing a loving kiss on her temple.
She cheerfully smiles, her fingers moving to caress the impossibly soft, dark brown hair on the little boy's head. "A few minutes," she replies, catching her fiancé's eyes once more. "If you two help me set the table, we can eat sooner."
Her son nods eagerly, as much as his three-year-old energy allows, and waves his tiny arms to wordlessly tell his father to put him down on the ground. Carlos obeys, then opens the cupboard to find the appropriate plates – all plastic, reserved for the times when it's only the three of them eating, to allow the young one to help them without the worry of him breaking anything.
She watches from the corner of her eyes as her two boys move towards the dining table, where Carlos lifts their son to stand on a chair, this way allowing him to reach the tabletop. His hands never leave the boy's waist, just in case, and when he's finished setting the plates, helps him back on the ground.
"Good job, chiquito," Carlos holds his palm out at the proper height.
"Gracias, papá," the little one slaps into his father's hand eagerly, making his mother smile so wide it's close to actually hurt the muscles in her cheeks.
They walk back to the kitchen counter with proud looks on their faces, and she places the bowl of salad in Carlos' hands. "It's too heavy for you, pumpkin," she explains when her son opens his mouth to complain.
"Te adoro," Carlos steals a melting kiss from her lips as his fingers get a hold of the bowl, before leaning back and fully taking it from her. I adore you.
With her heart fluttering with nothing but pure happiness and blood rushing to her face, she enjoys the way that bashful smile forms on her lips that only he can achieve. Her gaze follows his movements, the way the T-shirt clings to his arms, to his back muscles, and how the soft material ripples with every move he makes. He is breathtaking. He truly is, because unawares, she lets out a soft gasp watching him and has to endure the knowing glance and that smirk he casts her way above his shoulder. He knows her too well.
She shakes her head, attention going back to her son still standing by her feet, patiently waiting for his next task. A perfect mini-him, way more than she could've ever asked for.
A perfect child, a perfect man to call the love of her life, a perfect life. And it's all hers.
a/n: i'm back baby!! i've been gone for the longest time ever (since last summer) but i'm in my final year of uni and i had to write my thesis too so hopefully that's a good enough excuse. writer's block ain't fun still. it really just feels nice to post something again.
carlos sainz é seu recém marido. você tem plena consciência do quão difícil será manejar um casamento com um homem tão ocupado quanto ele. mas quando descobrem uma gravidez repentina, carlos muda totalmente sua percepção de prioridades.
avisos. só peço desculpa por esse meu portunhol SAFADO
“Hola, hermosa! Te siento triste hoy. ¿Qué fue?” — você sorri de leve ao notar a presença de Carlos novamente no trailer da Ferrari.
Você estava o acompanhando nas corridas de teste, sentada no sofá do motorhome, aguardando ansiosamente que Carlos voltasse.
Vocês eram casados há 4 meses. Tiveram uma incrível lua de mel no México durante as férias da temporada, e enfim Carlos voltou ao trabalho. Era incrível poder ficar com ele, raras eram as vezes que seu marido tinha tempo para namorarem um pouco, por isso, era de praxe que você o acompanhasse em seus compromissos.
Carlos, após dar um beijo em sua testa, segue direto para o frigobar, onde pega uma fruta, e uma garrafa de alguma bebida isotônica específica. Apenas o leve aroma da bebida lhe dá um nó no estômago, mas você respira fundo antes de estender para ele o pequeno pacote em suas mãos.
Até então, ele não havia reparado. Mas quando você o entrega, algo começa a fazer sentido. Era uma pequena caixinha de papelão, na qual ele abre, e encontra dentro três testes de gravidez, atestando positivo 11-12 semanas.
Os olhos castanhos expressivos te encaram por baixo dos cílios enormes, como os olhos de um cão pedinte. A dúvida pairando em seu rostinho, no qual ele eleva para o lado em confusão. Você percebe o peito dele subir e descer com rapidez, e entende que até a respiração dele estava descompassada.
“Cariño…” — ele murmura mexendo nos testes, reparando com atenção em todos.
“Oi.” — você murmura com a voz já embargada. As lágrimas desciam por seu rosto sem que você percebesse. Já estava chorando, e fungando.
“No, no, no. Mi amor, no te preocupes. Este bebê és una benção. Calma, no chore.” — o sotaque carregado entra em seus ouvidos como um calmante, ao mesmo tempo em que ele se senta colado em você, a abraçando, e a trazendo para seu peitoral.
“Me desculpa. Eu sei que não planejamos isso, é que não era o momento, mas eu…”
“Shh… No és su culpa. Se tienes alguém culpado, soy yo. Deveria me proteger mejor.” — ele faz um cafuné gostoso em seu cabelo, enquanto você ainda chora. Você sente o corpo dele tremer um pouco. “Pero mesmo assim, fico feliz. És un bebê, mi amor. Un bebe nosso, huh?” — seu corpo relaxa quando escuta uma risadinha vindo dele.
“Não quero atrapalhar seu trabalho.” — funga mais uma vez, olhando para os olhos de Carlos, e capta a vermelhidão nos dele também. Carlos estava chorando.
“Nunca mais diga isso. Me casei con usted, porque quiero formar una família. Un bebe faz parte dos planos, e estoy muy muy feliz.” — ele limpa suas lágrimas com os polegares, sorrindo. “No acredito, cariño… Un niño… Me diste un hijo. Un hijo.” — ele sorri mais largo, mais algumas lágrimas se acumulando em seus olhos expressivos, e você sorri com ele.
“Nosso bebê.” — você pega as mãos másculas de Carlos, e carrega até seu ventre, onde ele acaricia com cuidado por de baixo da blusa.
“Como isso aconteceu, huh?” — ele pergunta risonho, dando um selar em seus lábios.
“Acho que nosso bebê foi feito no México… Algo assim, acredito.” — você responde, mais calma. Um sorriso molda seu rosto. Está extremamente mais tranquila.
“Temos que ir ao médico, cariño. Ver se está tudo certo con nuestro hijo, começar a fazer tudo certinho.”
“Eu sei.” — você murmura. “Marquei pra semana que vem, no seu dia de folga.”
“Você pensa em tudo.” — ele sorri.
Carlos é o tipo de pessoa que sorri com os olhos. Aqueles enormes olhos expressivos, amendoados, com cílios enormes, por de baixo de sobrancelhas cheias, e acima de um nariz proeminente. Lábios grandes, grossos, barba por fazer, e pintinhas por todo o rosto avermelhado pelo calor — e pela situação.
Você amava tudo em Carlos.
“Eh… Será que es proibido coger, uh?” — ele diz sorridente, dando um beijinho em sua boca.
“Carlos!” — você murmura envergonhada. Sabe muito bem o teor sexual da palavra coger.
It was late afternoon by the time Carlos had wrapped up his meetings, finally parking the car outside your shared apartment. Despite his tiredness he couldn’t help the small smile on his face, excited to finally come home and looking forward to unwind together with you. His mind was filled with thoughts of food, maybe you should cook together? Or order in from that little Italian place you loved so much? He thought of what to watch on tv, knowing at the same time that it didn’t matter much to him. Hed probably fall asleep with his head in your lap within a few minutes of you sinking down in the couch together. As he unlocked the door he call out a soft hello, expecting you to pop out from somewhere like you usually did and come greet him with a kiss. When you didn’t, the silence of the apartment made him almost uneasy. Carlos called out for you again, frowning when he didn’t get an answer. Confused he pulled his phone from his pocket, thinking he might’ve missed a message from you, but the only one was your short conversation from this morning. He hadn’t heard anything since he told you he was in a meeting and when he thought about it that was kind of wierd. Normally he’d come out of a meeting to at least one text from you, and probably a cute picture of something you’d seen or something you’d cooked. You liked to keep him updated and he loved getting updates. He frowned, pressing the button to call you. The frown only deepened when he was forced to listen to the singlas until it eventually went to voicemail. Maybe you were at the gym? Or in the store, or out with friends? You usually picked up when he called though. Sighing Carlos moved further into the apartment, sinking down in the couch with a deep breath. Lazily scrolling through his phone it took him a few minutes until his eyes stopped on a story posted by one of your friends. The scene was cozy, candle-lit table and a tightly squeezed group of people posing for the picture. Right in the center he saw you, eyes crinkling with laughter as you carefully cut up the cake placed infront of you. His heart skipped a beat and as his eyes moved to read the caption it sank all the way down into his stomach.
Happy birthday to the sweetest, kindest and most beautiful soul. Love you!
Your birthday. It’s your birthday today and he’d completely forgotten it. You’d reminded him, several times the past few weeks, and every time he’d promise that he would make it the best day ever. That you and him would spend it together, all day with full focus on you and not a single thought on anything else. He’d promised himself to leave work behind, even just for one day, to really be able to make it special for you and now here he stood imagining your face when you realized he hadn’t kept any of it. Carlos fingers flew over his screen, quickly trying to call you again. When you didn’t answer, he hadn’t expected you to, he typed out a message.
C: Carino I’m so sorry
C: Im sorry, please call me? Or let me come see you?
C: I can pick you up after your dinner and we can do something? Anything you like
C: I love you, I’m sorry
You didn’t respond at first and Carlos began pacing the apartment, the stress and guilt eating him up from inside. He was just about to call one of your friends when your message finally came.
Y: Im out with friends Carlos, it’s fine.
Y: Love you too
He stared at it, a lump in his throat. He hated that you said it was fine, he knows it’s not. He knows what he has done is not fine and he knows you are not feeling fine either. He can see you, surrounded by your friends but also being reminded that he completely fucked you over today. The words its fine didn’t feel right, he could practically feel the disappointment laced beneath them.
C: Please amor, let me make it up to you.
No reply. Carlos kept his phone by his side the whole evening, waiting and constantly checking the screen hoping to find you giving him another chance but the silence dragged on. As the hours ticked by he realized you weren’t letting him off the hook that easily, not that he thought you should, but the panic inside him grew. Today should’ve been about you, about showing you he was capable of putting work aside, proving that despite everything always being about racing you were his priority. He hated that you gave him so much of your time and energy and he just- forgot. When he finally heard the sound of a key in the door he scrambled to his feet and moved out into the hallway, just in time to see you step inside. Your eyes met for the briefest moment before you turned away, expression calm but guarded.
”Hey.” He started, voice soft and overflowing with regret. You offered a quiet greeting, still not meeting his gaze, and he continued. ”Im so so sorry. I forgot, and I know that such a dickmove and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I have no excuse, I just-”
”It’s fine Carlos.” You nodded, hanging up your coat with slow and steady movements. Your tone of voice betrayed you and Carlos could heard the hurt you tried to hide. ”I know you’re busy. Its fine. I didn’t want to bother you.” The words slipping from your lips had his chest tightening.
”You’re never a bother baby.” His words came out almost as whispers, eyes pleading. ”I- I know I messed up, I should’ve been here. I promise I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He didn’t miss the way something flashed in your eyes, something hard and cold before your face softened. The sadness in your gaze when you watched him had him want to clutch his chest.
”You don’t have to promise anything Carlos.” The way you spoke was almost resigned. ”It’s fine. I just wish I didn’t feel like I’m something you have to work to fit into your schedule instead of something you actually want there.” The words stung, more than he had expected. Carlos wanted to reach for you, pull you close and tell you how important you were to him. That he’d give up everything else if you asked him to. But he didn’t, instead he just stood there looking into your eyes and realizing you didn’t want to talk to him right now. Carlos stayed still, watching you delicately make your way past him and he felt the weight of the promise that might’ve come a little too late this time.
That night, when Carlos eventually joined you in bed, he could feel the invisible wall between you. He caught himself glancing over, hoping you’d turn to him or shuffle closer like you’d usually do. He wanted nothing more than to have you curled up against his chest, but something in the air stopped him from reaching out. Instead he stared up at the ceiling, your earlier words replaying in his head. You felt like he didn’t want you, like you didn’t matter enough to him to make time for you in his schedule.
The days that followed didn’t seem to get any better. Carlos didn’t know how to approach the subject, didn’t know what to say, and you moved through the apartment like a ghost. You were always polite, always kind, but distant. When he asked if you wanted to join him for coffee or go for a run och a bike ride you’d shake your head while offering a soft smile, telling him you didn’t have time right now. When he tried to bring up the upcoming weekend, a weekend he knew was free for both you and him, and suggested that you’d plan a trip together you once again offered a sweet smile and told him you’d be up for whatever worked best for him. You stopped asking him for things, he noticed, and you never reached out first. When you kissed it was him who leaned in, when you ate together it was his suggestion. You didn’t remind him of plans, didn’t suggest movie nights, didn’t send him those funny little updates on your day when you were apart and he missed it. All of it. You didn’t even utter a word of complain when he was busy, you just let him go and never asked for even a moment of his time. Every time he noticed you step back something inside him twisted.
One evening, after Carlos had spent the day at the training center, he came home to find you sitting on the couch reading. You looked up at him when he entered, offered him a faint smile and a small hello, before turning back to your book. Usually, before all this, you’d be quick to ask him about his day, pull him down to cuddle with you and gently scratch the stress away from his scalp. But now it was as if you almost went out of your way not to talk to him. Carlos couldn’t stand it. It had only been a few days but the tension, the quiet ache of your absence was driving him mad. Taking a deep breath Carlos shuffled over, taking a seat on the coffee table infront of you. You shifted, glancing up at him, but didn’t speak.
”Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. You hesitated, you hated that you did, before nodding slowly.
”Of course. What’s on your mind?” The way you answered, so calm and almost indifferent, made him have to swallow the lump in his throat. He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.
”It’s not about what’s on my mind, it’s about yours. I, well I can feel you pulling away and I get that it’s my fault, you know? I know it’s because of what happened but I- I don’t know how to fix it. ”
”Carlos,” you murmured, eyes trailing down to your fidgeting fingers. ”It’s fine. I told you, I don’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy, I know you don’t need more stress in your life.” The words hit him like a punch. A bother. He could tell you genuinely believed that, that you saw yourself like someone, something, that bothered him. After everything you’ve been through he’d somehow made you feel like an inconvenience in his life.
”Don’t say that.” His voice was strained as he leaned forward, elbows on knees. ”You’re not a bother. Never. I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I know forgetting your birthday was the dickmove of the century, I really fucked up-”
”It’s not about you forgetting my birthday Carlos.” You shook your head softly, interrupting him. ”Or, well it is but not just that. It’s that sometimes, more recently, it feels like there’s no room for me in your life. Like you’re not willing to make room. I’m here all the time and you come find me when it’s convenient.” Carlos flinched, words cutting through his heart like sharp blades. You were right, he knew you were, but he hadn’t been willing to admit it earlier. He barely was now. You’d always been so kind, so understanding and supportive of his career and his demanding schedule and your support meant the world to him. He hated that he hadn’t showed you that. He hated himself for taking it for granted.
”I know I haven’t been good at- well at balancing things.” As he spoke his voice was thick with regret. ”And I know it’s been a lot recently, but carinõ I never meant to make you feel like, like you’re on the outside. I see you as a part of my life, like the biggest part. You’re what’s important.” Your gaze stayed trained on your hands, expression softening but still guarded.
”That’s nice to hear.” Murmured words had him carefully reach out to wedge his hand between yours and for the first time in days you didn’t pull away. ”I get that you have a lot on your plate and I want to support you I just, I don’t know if I can keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
”You shouldn’t. Pretend, I mean.” Silence settled slowly as Carlos tried to gather his thoughts. He held your hand tightly, thumb swiping gently across your knuckles. He knew what he wanted to say, he wanted to throw promises at her and beg her to give him another chance, but he also knew that wouldn’t cut it. Carlos understood that whatever he said now wouldn’t matter until he actually showed you, showed up for you, and he silently promised himself he would. As a single drop hit the back of his hand his eyes quickly trailed back to your face, feeling his chest clench as he watched yet another tear slowly slip down your cheek. With a deep breath he squeezed your hand, leaning closer. ”Can I please hold you?” The question felt weird on his tongue, he’d never asked for permission to touch you before, but it seemed necessary in the situation. When you offered a small nod, sniffing quietly, Carlos didn’t hesitate. In a swift maneuver he was seated next to you in the couch, arms wrapped around your frame as you fell against him. He released a shaky breath when he felt your arms snake around his torso and he pulled you somehow even closer, nose pressed against the top of your head.
”I missed you.” Your voice was barely audible but Carlos could feel the words seep into his skin.
”I missed you too.” He spoke against your hair. ”And I know I will have to show you for you to believe me, but I really am sorry. You deserve a lot more than I’ve given you lately and I promise I’ll be better. I’ll make time, real time, for us. You’re the most important person in my life, you’re my person, and I’m not losing you.” Carlos eyes fluttered open as you slowly pulled away, looking up at him with a mixture of sadness and hope.
”I really hope you mean it.”
”I do.” You held his gaze in silence for what felt like forever until you finally nodded.
”Okay.”
~~
The days went on after that and soon enough days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Carlos had really realized what he had been doing to you, how his neglect had chipped away at the foundation of what you had built together, and he’d been working on it. Really working on it. At first it was awkward, you both thought so. Carlos wasn’t used to scheduling his time around someone else, not in the way you needed or in the way he wanted to offer. He had to force himself to slow down, to prioritize moments with you. He learned to say no, to meeting, to interviews, to unnecessary events because he had realized what it cost him to always say yes. The reward for saying no though, was what really brought him happiness. Every time he chose you, every time he prioritized you over the demands that came with his career, he saw something in your eyes. Relief, hope, love. It hadn’t been easy though, not all of it. There were moments when he still caught you hesitating before asking for something, moment when he knew you were keeping yourself in check not to be a bother, and every time it broke his heart a little bit. One time you carefully suggested that the two of you could take a small trip, since both of you were off work for a few days, and he could tell you were bracing yourself for disappointment even as you asked the question. He knew you still kept a lot of your feelings to yourself, brushing off things that upset you, and that’s what hurt him the most. Knowing you were still healing from what he’d put you through. There were good moments too, the majority actually, that made both of you feel like you were moving in the right direction. Like when he surprised you with a packed picnic basket one morning when you thought he would be at work. Or that time he saw you smile, really smile, when you heard him turn down a late-night meeting just to stay in and watch your favorite show together. It was a slow process, earning back your trust, but he was determined to make it.
One evening you sat on the balcony together, the glow of the city and the sinking sun blending together in front of you. Carlos had you tucked closely to his side, fingers twisting a strand of your hair absentmindedly as both of you just seemed to enjoy your time together.
”You’re quiet tonight.” Your soft murmur had him gazing down at you, smiling softly when he saw your face already turned up. Carlos moved his free hand to brush a strand of hair from your cheek.
”I’m just thinking.”
”About what?” Carlos hesitated, unsure how to express what he was feeling. When you reached up to grab his hand, tilting your head in that way he always found so endearing, he spoke up again.
”About how lucky I am. That you’re still here, with me, you know? That you didn’t give up.”
Your expression softened if possible even more, fingers intertwining with his. ”I never wanted to give up Carlos, I never wanted us to end.” You assured him, brows softly knitting together. ”I just needed to know if you actually wanted me here.” Carlos chest tightened, reminders of those painful days when he didn’t know if he’d be able to fix what he caused flashing through his mind.
”I do. I did and I do. I’ll always want you, need you.” He paused to lean down and press his lips against your forehead for a moment, taking a deep breath in through his nose as he gathered his composure. “I’ll never stop trying to show you how much you belong in my life, how important you are to me. Because you are.” Carlos tensed for a second as you pulled away, holding his breath as you looked at him. When you finally moved again you slowly leaned up to kiss him, lips soft and warm against his, and Carlos felt himself relax again. As you pulled back he saw a glimmer of something in your eyes, something lighter, as if the weight you’d been carrying was slowly starting to lift.
”Thank you.” Once again your words came out soft, softer than he felt he deserved.
”For what?”
”For fighting for us. For wanting to make this work. You could’ve just given up and focused all your time on all your other stuff, but you’ve really tried.” Your words had him melt, the arm he had around your shoulders tightening slightly. ”I do really appreciate these past months Carlos, and I know it hasn’t been easy but it’s been good. Great. You’ve been great.”
”It hasn’t been easy.” He agreed slowly. ”But it has been worth it. Every time.” Carlos leaned in to press another gently kiss against your lips before continuing. ”I’ll always fight for us. For you.” He didn’t say anything else. Neither did you. You didn’t have to. You just sat there, tangled together in the quiet and felt the wave of security and gratitude wash over you. Things were going to be okay, both of you knew it. Maybe even better than okay.
I'll pull you in, I'll pull you back to what you need initially
It's just one call away
And you'll leave him, you're loyal to me
But this time I let you be
~
George was eager to show you off, show the whole paddock how proud he was to call you his as the two of you walked towards the Mercedes hospitality hand-in-hand. The favourite couple of the weekend. Carlos watched from a distance, a knowing glint in his eyes; he could see right through the facade you had created for George, even if you couldn’t. You were happy with the Brit, Carlos knew that, but with one word you’d be by his side instead.
When your eyes met his for a moment, the pink tint to your cheeks was undeniable. The guilt of what you and Carlos had never surfacing, the secrecy was part of what you loved so much. George knew of your history with the Spaniard, the two of you never public but it was through Carlos that you’d met him. But overtime, the British driver had charmed you, treated you like you put the stars in the sky so you started to put distance between yourself and Carlos.
Before you and George became official; you and Carlos shared more than your fair share of nights, breathless pants of his name leaving your lips. Mornings spent underneath his sheets, nothing but the two of you in the moment. But this time he’d leave you be, let George take care of you for a while.
~
'Cause he seems like he's good for you
And he makes you feel like you should
And all your friends say he's the one
His love for you is true
~
He stood amongst his fellow drivers during a post-race drink at a local pub. George’s arm now draped around your shoulder, your arm reached up to link your fingers with his as you chatted away with a smile to Charles and Max. Lando carried two drinks over to the table the Spaniard was stood at and passed one to his friend, lightly clinking the glasses together. “You’re staring again.”
“Just observing.”
“He’s good for her, Carlos.” Lando mused, being one of the few knowing the truth behind your relationship with the Ferrari driver. “I can see them being together for the long haul.”
“She’s always smiling when they’re together… I know that he’s good for her but, it’s just not real. Even if she won’t admit it.” Carlos was cocky, he knew you better than you know yourself. “If I wanted her I could have her.”
The two drivers looked over at you and George just as he leant in to press a soft kiss to your lips, your mouth curving up into a sweet smile. Carlos didn’t miss the twinkle in your eyes as you pulled back, you really had fooled yourself into thinking that your relationship with George was anything but a mask to hide your true feelings.
~
But does he know you call me when he sleeps?
But does he know the pictures that you keep?
But does he know the reasons that you cry?
Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?
~
“Hermosa.” He hummed down the phone, eyes bleary from the bright screen in the dark room. “Do you know what time it is?”
There was a beat of silence before you answered.
“I just can’t… my heart isn’t his, Carlos. It’s yours.”
A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth at your admission, he already knew it to be true but hearing it felt good. Whilst on the other end of the phone, tears were rolling down your cheeks - your skin prickling with cold as you sat on the balcony of the hotel room you shared with George. The skin around your fingers bitten raw as you waited for Carlos to respond.
“I know. But he’s good for you, y/n.” He finally hummed. “It’s not our time.”
“…but that’s the thing, Carlos. I can’t commit to him knowing that someday it could be.”
I let you go from time
You should stay with him
“I know I should let you go.”
“But?”
The driver sighed softly, leaning back against the headboard, running a hand through his hair - just picturing you on the edge of your seat, waiting to hear the words you’d wanted to hear from the moment you had met.
“I’m too selfish to let that happen.”
~
Right here with me, babe
Where it truly lies
My bed, babe
Where it truly lies
In my arms, babe
~
When Carlos awoke the next morning, he could feel your weight on his chest, your warm breath on his skin. He knew this was entirely selfish, George was good for you, he wasn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. As soon as you put the phone down last night, he text you his hotel address and room number - meeting you at the door with a deep kiss, pulling you back into his web.
He traced his fingers up and down your back as your phone screen lit up, a photo of you and your boyfriend slightly obscured by a text from the Brit asking where you’d gone. Carlos flipped it over and pulled you further into his arms, closing his eyes.
One day, he’d let you be.
But while you were like a moth to a flame, circling him - wanting more than anything to be his. He just couldn’t help himself from fuelling it, making it burn brighter and brighter until one day it would inevitably blow up in his face.
