happy holidays, @leqclerc! thank you for cohosting this @sebchalsecretsanta21 exchange and having me on as a participant. when i say i laughed when i read your prompts, it was because they were an exact mirror of my own! though, yours were naturally far more eloquent.
alas, since i'm slow as molasses as a writer, here is a long snippet of a larger work as my humble (and currently untitled) gift to you. i hope you enjoy as a taste of what's to come. i swear there will be a feature-length fic with a red bow on it in the very near future for you! ❤️
(1956 words; rated G for now)
In another life, Sebastian could be a driver. Well, technically he acted as one right now as they made their way to the track for the first race weekend of the season, but Charles meant more like him. In fact, the German looked far more like a fellow competitor or team engineer or mechanic than he did his actual position. Maybe that was the point, though, considering the ridiculousness of Mattia’s idea. At least if the man blended in, he would draw less suspicion.
“Are you nervous?” Sebastian asked, breaking the silence between them.
“What? No.” Charles wrinkled his nose.
The car had felt great during testing. The streets were quiet so far and void of frenzied fans trying to ambush him mid transit. And he hadn’t had performance anxiety in ages. What could he possibly be nervous about?
“Do you think you have a good chance this year?”
“Depends on what you mean by good chance.”
Was he supposed to give state secrets away to outside personnel even if they had been hired by the team and signed a non-disclosure agreement? Charles would rather not have another embarrassing closed-door meeting after the fact to find out.
“Is there something on your mind, then.”
Charles paused, gulped. For most of the drive, his gaze had remained fixated on the dashboard or out the windshield as a safe neutral zone while glancing every so often at the man on his left out of curiosity and concern. But at the sudden attention, he tucked his whole face away as if he had been caught red-handed sneaking eclairs against his trainer’s orders.
“You don’t look like a bodyguard,” he said in the end. His leg bounced up and down, and his hand spun his phone round and round in the air. This traffic light was quite possibly the longest one he had ever sat through in his life.
The image was just incongruous to him. Sebastian had a lean but smaller shape to him. There were no bodybuilder muscles, no shaved head. His neck was thicker like the rest of them, and he hadn’t needed a manual when he slid behind the wheel of the company vehicle—bolstering his theory that he could compete in Formula 1. No bodyguard he had ever encountered could fit into his racing car.
“Were you expecting James Bond,” the German scoffed. “A suit and tie following you around at every track, to drive you to the airport—”
“This is my car!”
Sebastian waved a dismissive hand at him. “It’s in the contract.”
The signatures on the paperwork were dry by the time Charles had been informed of the situation. And how unfair was it that he hadn’t had much say in gaining a human shadow he would probably see more than his own friends for the next nine months. He hadn’t even won the championship yet. But when Ferrari’s chances finally looked promising again, he found himself in the passenger seat with no idea where Andrea was and a sarcastic German by his side all because the tifosi’s growing passion had gotten a bit out of hand at the afterparty in Abu Dhabi last year.
By the time they pulled into a designated spot in the carpark, Charles had resigned himself to the awkwardness of the situation like team orders—sometimes a necessary evil, always a needless bother.
“I’m just as qualified as him, if you’re worried,” Sebastian said as they walked to the paddock gates.
Charles huffed. No offense to James Bond, but he had never driven a Ferrari at over three hundred kilometers per hour and singlehandedly ruined the dreams of every Red Bull team member before.
“I’m not worried at all.”
--
Most of the time, Charles didn’t notice Sebastian. Blocking out the extra bodies and activities of the paddock was something all drivers had figured out by the time they were in single seaters. Without Mia and Andrea circling, the German would walk a little closer to him, especially in and out of public exits. But otherwise, life at the racetrack happened without further interference.
There were, however, some strange things about the man that Charles did observe.
During free practice, he stood in the actual corner of the garage with a little notebook in hand. His eyes darted around before scanning the pages or jotting something down, and the cycle repeated over and over. Charles leaned on his car while chatting with his mechanics, but his thought was drawn to Sebastian in his inconspicuous spot. What protection he needed by his bodyguard here, he had no idea.
“What are you writing?” he asked during the morning session on Saturday in Jeddah. His eyes fell to the open sheet as if the man held secret codes to launch a major attack.
It was just a bunch of their names.
“I’m trying to get to know everyone on the team,” Sebastian said.
“Oh.” That was not nearly as interesting as he thought. “Do you have to be here?”
“Not exactly.” After closing his book, the blonde regarded him almost as if he was searching for something. Charles shifted on his feet and glanced away. “I don’t want to bother anyone. I can wait in the hospitality.”
“No, you can stay,” he said. “I mean that it’s okay. To stay. But maybe put on this.” He handed Sebastian a team pullover from his seat in the garage. The man was sticking out like a sore thumb dressed in black in a sea of red. “Find Xavi for headphones if you want also.”
Then there was the annoying thing where Sebastian stood outside his driver’s room like one of the Carabiniers at the Prince’s Palace as if Andrea was some kind of threat to his wellbeing. Mick, of course, had greeted him in passing back in Bahrain and made small chat before chuckling at Charles and his predicament and going about his business. His teammate would find the situation far less amusing if he kept trying to go onto the balcony only to find the door bolted every time. Charles didn’t even know the backdoor had a lock.
After an exhilarating victory in Melbourne, he found Sebastian there yet again. Soaked with champagne and fatigue, he hesitated at the sight wondering if he should say something only to miss the moment altogether. Instead, he fumbled past his sentinel and shut the door for a quick rinse and breather—needing to untangle himself from the cascade of emotions for a moment alone.
The weirdest thing of all was watching him pick up garbage when they left the paddock each day. Charles had never seen so much litter in his life until he was suddenly pausing every few meters while his bodyguard made sure all the plastic packaging and soda cans went into the appropriate waste bins. And to think, the team had hired Sebastian to look after him.
Back at the hotel, he took a proper shower and changed before heading out to celebrate his first-place finish and current lead in the standings. Pierre promised to stop by for a drink, and Charles was sure he would stumble upon Daniel, taking P2 at the checkered flag today. And then there was the pesky situation of his bodyguard.
Charles threw open the door when Sebastian knocked. He paused to stare at the latter’s attire.
“Is that what you are wearing?” he asked. It wasn’t every day he won the Australian Grand Prix, and yet, here Sebastian was sporting the same outfit he had on when they drove to the circuit that morning. Charles was almost embarrassed for him.
His head swiveled back to face the room wondering if the situation was still salvageable. “If you want to borrow something, I think we are the—”
“Honestly,” Sebastian cut him off. Charles whipped his attention back to him at the rather affronted tone. “You won’t even notice I’m there.”
He was wrong, though. Perhaps for everyone else, the blonde blended into the faceless crowd. But for Charles, he couldn’t help but notice that every time he glanced up and saw him through the ocean of people, Sebastian was always staring right back.
--
The scene at Melbourne Airport post victory was a little more chaotic than when they had arrived. Landing to hundreds of fans lined up behind barriers had produced a controlled environment where Charles could sign a few autographs and pose for pictures without too much trouble. But now, despite the barriers and increased police presence, the cheers and enthusiasm for sendoff felt tenfold—enough of a boisterous mania for his bodyguard to consider dangerous.
His training kicked in like autopilot as he picked a safer-looking section with a baby and a few younger fans to greet. Signing some caps and cards should appease them for now, though Charles knew there would always be those disappointed and resentful that he didn’t spend extra time with the people that supported him.
He counted the number of selfies he allowed—giving himself a limit before it became too much. He was on three when one hand turned into four, jerking at his sleeve to pull him into their camera’s frame. And it wasn’t as if this was a new experience, but his shoulders began to rise closer and closer to his ears as he stared into one lens after another with his plastic smile falling and falling.
“That’s enough.”
The words were barely heard above the clamor, but their commanding tone caused Charles to blink out of his daze and see his bodyguard’s complete attention on nothing but him. The man stood so close but didn’t touch him. And, well, Charles didn’t know much if at all anything about Sebastian, but when blonde eyebrows lifted, the Monégasque nodded automatically in response.
He gave the crowd a final wave before following Sebastian through the airport until the throng disappeared from view. And only when they passed security did Charles realize he had been holding his breath.
“Why do you do that?” Sebastian said when they were finally alone in the waiting lounge.
“Sign autographs?” Charles squinted at the older man. “It’s nice for the fans. So many people you don’t expect support you and the team. It’s quite amazing, actually.”
Sebastian shook his head. “Why do you put yourself in danger?”
“Is this about yesterday? I told you it was an accident.”
His bodyguard had made known his displeasure when Charles had driven to the track with Andrea instead of his sole security detail. It had been an honest mistake, a force of habit after all these years. But Charles had arrived at his driver’s room only to be greeted by the German and an earful about safety proceedings and contracted obligations all the while trying to go about the rest of his race day rituals.
“You need to be more careful.”
Charles shrugged. “They’re just pictures.” It could get unruly at times, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. “They’re harmless.”
“No. They think they know you, and because of that, they want something from you. Some even expect it. That’s not harmless.”
“Okay, but I’m fine, no? That’s why Mattia hired you. Everything is fine.”
Charles looked at Sebastian. He didn’t get it. Nothing had happened, and yet, he was getting told off for doing what he had been trained to do—greet fans, stay in the media’s good graces, give back to the tifosi. Still, there was this look on the German’s face, something like disappointment or vulnerability or irritation. Pressing his lips together, Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck and sighed as he averted his gaze. And Charles was left with a confusing need to know what had just happened.
Extension gift double drabble for @saintlysebchal (it’s a Strictly Come Dancing!AU, should probably mention that)
“My hips do not go that way,” Sebastian complains loudly. Charles refuses to let go of said hips, digging his fingers in as a warning when Sebastian tries to shimmy out of the grip.
“See, you did a good shake there!” Charles says proudly. “Now you do it more sexy. On purpose.”
“I will break every bone in my body,” Sebastian sighs. Charles moves away to turn the music back on, finds his place behind Sebastian again.
“This is just a chacha. It is not so bad. Just wait until you see your costume.”
Charles grins. Sebastian doesn’t trust it.
“What is my costume going to be, Charles.”
“Do not think about it, think about the move.”
Sebastian lets Charles guide him through the steps, tries to mimic the fluid movements of Charles’s hips behind his.
Or. Maybe not. The sweats he’s wearing now will not hide anything.
Mercifully, Charles decides to take him through the choreography after that, shows Sebastian where to leave his hands while Charles does some impossible looking twists and turns.
“You need to stop adjusting your shirt,” Charles says after a little snag. “Your costume will not close like that.”
Now that all of the gifts are in and have had some time to sink in, we think it’s time for a final masterlist to round off the season! Feel free to read everyone’s offerings, leave some love if you’re so inclined, and we’d like to thank you all for making this Sebchal Secret Santa a truly memorable experience and a great first exchange for us! 🥰🎄🎀
Fics:
the sweet fruits of waiting for @bigbluelemon
futile devices for @sebchalex
Catch Your Devils On the Tip of Your Tongue for @that-was-a-lie
one ray of light for @getrare
green gloves for @juncosracing
time and again for @streetlightsky
it is a cruel business, to love for @serendipitous-starlight
december makes me quiet for @badboy-george
Ground Rules for @wdcseb
Feel My Bones Ignite for @tetrapod7
Prologues:
Untitled for @meova101
Untitled for @leqclerc
Gifsets/edits:
That’s why we’re making headlines for @saintlysebchal
He only sees Charles after the first day of testing, rushes to catch up with him. He hasn’t gotten a text back in weeks, not even any of the questions about streaming together he’d come to expect. Sebastian’s not exactly worried, he’s just confused.
“Charles, wait up!”
The red figure stops, turns around, vague smile already on his face.
“Hello,” Charles says when Sebastian has caught up. “I am Charles. Who are you?”
“Very funny,” Sebastian says. “I know I left Ferrari, but this is ridiculous. You are allowed to talk to people not wearing red, you know. Honestly.”
Charles merely looks at him, eyes blank.
“Are you my handler?” he asks.
“Handler? What is going on?” Maybe he’s getting worried now. Charles doesn’t seem like himself, seems like a blank shell of who he used to be. Even his accent has softened somehow, the words flowing together like never before.
“Charles! There you are!”
Mattia suddenly appears alongside Charles, wraps an arm around him tightly. Charles doesn’t lean into it. He doesn’t back away, either. Sebastian’s hands curl into fists.
“Would you like a treatment?”
Charles nods, lets Mattia lead him back inside. Sebastian looks on, stunned into silence.
Two more days to go until reveal week starts, so we figured this is the perfect time to share the list of participants with you! And if it’s not the perfect time, well, just pretend it’s like the F1 secret santa video 🥰
Without further ado, the list of participants is under the cut. Note: we’ve used up-to-date usernames and when there’s a main blog with an F1 sideblog, we’ve used the sideblog username.
