#Summer Sisters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xdacted · 6 months

Text

The art of sibling hood

Paring: sister!Reader & Charles Leclerc

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,815

Status: Complete

***Request made by reader***

Summer break offers us a sliver of peace.

No teams are calling, no coaches screaming, no clients to take care of - there is nothing but family. For a few weeks out of the year, all we have is each other. I can’t ask for anything better.

We all gather at our mother’s house, hiding away there with her. It’s nice, to all be under the same roof again, we haven’t been since Lorenzo first moved out. It only worsened when I decided to take my training to France. 16 years of living under one roof was gone in an instant. We had lived together our entire lives until that point.

It was like losing a piece of myself.

But then, after the sadness rolled away, I was filled with so much joy. To know that both Charles and Arthur were chasing their dream, to see them every weekend battling it out on the track. Though my mother refused to watch, I always did.

But there is always more I want to know, more I want to see. I can’t help myself from asking questions. The countries they see, the people they meet - it’s a world I’ll never know. I almost got involved, my father put me in karting as a child, but it was never my passion. Not the way it was with Arthur and Charles. I found my calling in school.

At six, I was sitting among my classmates in the gymnasium, watching as our instructor introduced the sport of fencing. He was trying to start a club, with a school as small as ours, it wasn’t very likely to happen.

He brandished the swords, explaining the rules. My friend, Anies, had fallen asleep on my shoulder, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was transfixed, hooked. That day, I ran home, with the club papers in my hand and begged my parents.

At first, Papa was hesitant, telling me that this sport was a fighting spot - I wasn’t a ‘fighting girl’. But I pleaded, hooking my arms around his neck and staring up at him. This was my dream. Fencing was racing to me. Fencing was everything.

What I didn’t understand was that fencing was also incredibly expensive. With two children karting and one in fencing, I remember the night I caught Mum and Papa talking it over, they couldn’t afford it.

I was lucky enough to be given a scholarship by a fencing club, I would have the funding to chase my dream. Arthur, however, was not so lucky. I remember how he cried, screaming and howling into his pillow. He mourned the loss of his sport, but he was never angry. Just sad.

I shake off the memories when Charles calls my name.

“What?”

He looks at me, staring at me from his seat on the floor, arms holding his knees close to him. He and Arthur are playing some card game they explained more than once - but I have never cared to learn. Arthur glares at the cards below him, flipping them over in his hand.

He laughs, “I asked how training was going?”

“Good,” I burrow further into the couch, pulling a blanket across my shoulders, “When I go back, I have a tournament in Italy.”

“Well,” Arthur huffs, still fixed on the game, “You’re already a World Champion - Ugh! Charles, you’re cheating! This is why I hate playing with you!”

Charles throws his hands up, turning to Arthur with an indignant expression, “I am not a cheater. I am a man of honor, you just suck.”

With a curse, Arthur throws his cards down.

He stands, “You’re a cheat and you know it.”

“You just don’t know how to lose.”

Arthur throws himself beside me, moving the pillows so he can lean against them, crossing his arms in front of him. I don’t have to hide my laughter, I let it slip from me. The laughter is easy, the tension from yesterday gone. Charles had still been insistent on apologizing, even when I told him to just drop it.

My brother is one of the kindest people in the world.

“What about you?” I dare to ask, offering Arthur some of my blanket, “How’s Ferrari treating you?”

I don’t need to ask because I already know. Even from across the world, every Sunday, I watch him. Every Sunday, I watch my brother get into that car and put his life on the line. And every Sunday I watch Ferrari screw him over. My teammates were getting far too tired of my outbursts.

Charles clears his throat, looking down at the cards scattered across the floor. He sweeps them together, shuffling them, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

I’m stepping on thin ice. My brothers like to assume that when it came to racing they knew everything, but I had grown up around this. My father was a racer and now my brothers were racers - it was in my blood. I had just chosen not to pursue it.

“Yes, fine.” He pushes himself up, standing and walking to the edge of the couch.

“If you say so, brother,” Charles opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of the doorbell cuts him off.

He practically leaps over the couches, nearly tripping over the carpet, to throw the door open. My mother hardly has time to scold him as she steps inside her room because cheery voices are ringing out through the house.

“Hello!”

Lorenzo comes bounding from upstairs and Arthur rolls off the couch, kicking the blanket away from him. The three women who step inside the house bring the light of the shining sun with them.

“Girls!” I cry, it has been so long since I’ve last seen them.

Carla sees me first, throwing her hands in the air. She pushes past Arthur to sweep me into a hug. The position is awkward, as her body curves over the couch and I attempt to reach up to her, but I can feel her laughter vibrate within her chest.

“Did you get in today?” Her eyes are shining and the glasses perched atop her head threaten to fall, “Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wanted to surprise you, of course!” When we pull away, Charlotte and Alexandria are right beside us.

“We need to get breakfast while you’re here,” Charlotte says, pressing her hands together. It isn’t so much a request as it is a plan in motion.

I just nod along. I look around, my brother’s waiting behind them with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased expression.

“What?”

“They’re supposed to be here to see us.”

“No,” Charlotte says, wrapping her arms around me, “We’re here for her and of course - Pascale.”

“Hello, dear,” Mum says, Carla placing welcoming kisses on her cheeks.

I turn to my left, Alex having taken a seat in the open space that Arthur left.

“Hey,” I whisper, pulling her close.

“Hi,” She whispers back.

There’s something different. I can tell when she hugs me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. When we pull away, there’s a glow to her skin and a twinkle in her eyes.

“Is there -?”

Charles is draped across her in a second, gentle hands on her shoulders, “She is my girlfriend. Please, do not be selfish.”

Alex only rolls her eyes and I can’t help but follow.

What a drama queen.

__________

I watch Charles and Alex as Mum bustles around the kitchen. It’s little, but something is different. I can feel it. Something about the way Charles has an arm curled around her waist or the way she clings to his arm. They keep eyeing the rest of us, Alex turning around to whisper in his ear.

Hm. How strange.

Alex was quite shy, this much became evident when I first met her, but she was by no means afraid of the family. Just a few weeks earlier she had come to visit me in France, we spent the day together and had been texting each other constantly.

What could it be?

I met her eyes and she sharply turned away from me.

A secret then.

Papa liked to say that I inherited Mum’s gift for reading people, especially my brothers. Even when we’re separated by seas, I know when something’s bothering them. I know when something is wrong.

But this - this was different.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

But, my mind can help but wonder, what if - no. Could it be?

“Arthur.”

He hardly looks up from his phone, “Hm?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” He asks, still scrolling.

I lean in closer, “I think Alex is pregnant.”

Arthur nearly drops his phone. He whips his head over to look at me, mouth agape, “What?!”

“Sh!” I smack his arm, he is going to give us away, “You’re so loud…”

“Why do you think she’s pregnant?” He whisper-shouts, “That’s crazy. Charles would’ve told us.”

“Maybe he’s going to tell us tonight,” I shrug, pulling away from him.

“Are you in or out?” I crossed my legs, my gut feelings were always strong. I’d guessed many things over the years and felt a change within the people around me before they told me. I’d known Charles got signed to Ferrari before he told us, or that Arthur was going to be moved to F2, or that Lorenzo had met someone new - all of these things, I’d felt. All of these things I guessed.

Maybe I was a bit psychic.

“You’re on,” He stuck his hand out, “€10?”

I scoffed, “That’s nothing - €100.”

“You could be wrong.”

“I could be right,” I looked down at his waiting hand.

“€50?”

I slapped my hand in his, “€50 it is!”

“You’re going down,” He whispered, squeezing my hand. I kick at his shin.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get, dumbass.”

“LANGUAGE!”

__________

Dinner is an easy affair. The time ticks by slowly, but none of us mind. Warm and laughter fill the house, everyone staying at the table after the food has long been eaten. Stories are tossed around and jokes float about, it's peaceful.

A peace that’s so very addicting.

Here, I can forget that I have to leave in only a few days. I can tell that the boys forget too, throwing themselves over Mum and the table. Arthur laughs so hard that he snorts and Lorenzo’s jokes have Charles reduced to tears - it’s all so nostalgic.

As we eat, I can see Charles and Alex glance at each other, watching as he scoops her hand in his. She whispers something in his ear and he nods.

Before I know it, they are both standing.

“I,” He clears his throat, “I have something to say - well, we do, actually...”

“Well,” Alex begins, a bright smile pulling over her face, “Charles and I are expecting a - a child.”

The table erupts into cheers and exclamations. Mum drops her head into her hands, and before we can rush over, she looks up with tears in her eyes and a dazzling smile on her lips. We stand to offer them hugs and kisses, pats, and words of encouragement.

“I told you!” I cry.

Arthur lets out a loud groan, pushing his face into his hands, “Why?”

Confusion is written across their face and I can only laugh

I hold out a waiting hand.

With another groan and a roll of his eyes, he shoves his hand into his pockets, pulling out the €50 I’m owed. The bill is crunched and he drops it into my palm with little fanfare.

“This is so unfair,” Arthur throws his arms around my shoulders, “How could you have possibly known?”

“I just do,” I shrug, looking up at him with a smile, “I’m just that good.”

“I knew it,” Carla giggles, “You are a psychic.”

I lock eyes with Mum over the table, she flashes me a smile.

“Of course,” I say, “I learned from the very best.”

__________

The ocean calls our name, the lull of the tides and the crashing of the waves. Such a beautiful song and we can do nothing but dance to it. With the sun shining down on our backs, we pile into Charles’s boat, clinging to the railing as we push away from the dock. The salt of the air tangles in my hair, and gentle winds give us a beautiful day. The weather was perfect, the sea was calm. What more could we ever ask for?

We spend the day lounging about the boat, pushing and shoving each other in the water. I manage to convince Charles to let me take the smaller boat out for a spin, with Carla clinging to the seats, and Charolette cheering us on from the deck above. I can’t help but dissolve into laughter at his face, twisted with worry.

The water is cool against our heated skin, it invites us in for more. The longer we stay, the more we forget about the world that surrounds us. It is nearly enough to make me forget about my flight in only a few days. I will have to leave and this will all become a memory.

But what a beautiful memory it will be.

I can’t dwell on my thoughts, because Charlotte demands that we all jump. There is little fanfare for Charles and Lorenzo as they practically wrestle to the sea below. Arthur grips my hand as we jump, throwing ourselves into the Moncao air, caught by the arms of the sea.

It is perfect. It is home.

When the sun begins to dip in the sky, my mother draws herself up from the couch and claims that dinner will not ready itself. The others agree and begin to shuffle off but Carla and I are the last to get back from the boat. Though Charles has always held the title of ‘captain’, I have always maintained that the sea is but a little requirement for boating. We stayed behind to just lounge about in the sun, only coming back to the house when she got a frantic call from Arthur, telling her to come back.

“What’s…” The words die in our throats when we see Alex huddled in the corner, sobbing into her hands. Charlotte stands over her, rubbing a reassuring hand over her back, whispering something into her ear.

Before we can say another word, Arthur and Lorenzo interrupt us. He pulls us into a corner of the house, wiping his hands on his shorts. His eyes dart around the room, lip caught between his teeth.

“What happened?” Carla demands.

“It - it was the press,” Arthur manages, “They got pictures from earlier, on the boat.”

I need to hear little else. I dig my phone from my bag.

Finding the photo doesn’t take much work. It’s there as soon as I open Twitter, Alexandria and Charles standing on the balcony of the boat. Her hands on her stomach, nothing there to show - not yet - but the implication is enough for the media to run with.

I can hardly breathe.

Anger coils tight within me.

Fucking vultures.

Carla gasps from beside me, pressing a hand to her mouth. The headlines make my stomach turn. Far too atrocious to look at, I shove my phone back into my bag. Carla is quick to slip from beside me, rushing over to the couch, and dropping to her knees beside Alex.

Haven’t they gone through enough? Have people not thrown Alex into the fire already? Had they not already ripped her apart? I remember the articles and the tweets when their relationship went public, the look of sadness on her face. People hated her simply because she loved Charles. How they got together and why they got together was no one’s business but their own.

“Where -” I cut myself off, dropping my voice lower, “Where’s Charles?”

For a moment, Lorenzo doesn’t answer me, phone in hand. I can’t tell who’s calling, but the grave look on his face is all I need to know. He shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair.

“He’s outside,” He whispers, sparing a look over at Alex, “He stormed out and won’t come back in.”

“Of course! He’s upset!” I hiss, this was private. This was personal. The media has taken that away from him.

Lorenzo holds his hands up, “I’m not saying he shouldn’t be - I’m not saying that I’m not,” He sighs, “But this is more - this is more than just…”

He looks away, rubbing a hand over his face, “He can’t run from this now.”

I turn away from Lorenzo and the tears begin to gather in my eyes before I can gather the courage to force them back. I wrap my arms around myself, afraid that I might throw something across the room.

This wasn’t right.

Summer is our time.

There is never any anger, never any sadness. That’s the world that waits beyond the walls of our home, that is the world we leave behind. We shut it all out because summer break is just us. I don’t realize that I’ve begun to dig my fingers into the flesh of my arm until Arthur yanks my hands away.

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezing my hands in his. I can’t look at him, but I feel his gaze on me. When he releases me, my hands drop back down to my sides. I suck in a large gulp of air, trying to calm the pounding of my heartbeat.

Before I can make my way to Alex, Charlotte stops me. She holds her hand up, a sad smile on her face.

‘We’ve got it,’ She mouths, ‘Go.’

Her eyes flicker to the terrace, doors closed tightly. I can see, in the shadows of the darkness, Charles.

“I’ll be back,” I whisper, reaching out to squeeze Arthur’s shoulder before I walk towards the doors.

I gently push them open, waiting for Charles to scream out that he wasn’t privacy, that he needs space, but he never does

I step through.

Charles stands out on the balcony, hands clutching onto the terrace railing. He stares into the swaying trees of our backyard, the melting sun casting a glow around the shadow of the house. Though the wind blows, there is no twinkle of windchimes. There is no echo of laughter or memory of youth, there is nothing. The light from the entry room spills across his back, but he doesn’t turn.

The silence is thick, sitting heavily atop the both of us. With his back turned to me, I can’t see his face. There’s a selfish part of me that never wants to. I never want to see the pain and anger on my brother’s face. I never want to watch his heart fall apart before me. He is my family, an extension of myself.

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

His voice is hardly above a whisper, nearly consumed by the distant sounds of the city, but I hear. It cuts through the silence, piercing it with ease. There is sadness in his voice and I can feel the tears burn once more. His shoulders slump forward, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. For a movement, I fear that he might collapse.

I take a tentative step forward.

My brother is many things. Charles is competitive and rash, he is hard-working and self-deprecating. But he is also kind and forgiving, with a smile like the sun and a laugh like the sea. He is good. Our Papa used to say that Lorenzo and I got all the anger and bite, as it never seemed that Charles could hate, to be spiteful.

Always the first to take the blame, always the first to vouch, always the first to arrive, always the last to go.

My brother is good.

And the world is cruel.

“Charles,” I whisper, he doesn’t turn.

I reach for him, my fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his shirt, “Charles.”

He finally turns, biting his lip, tears in his eyes. The words die in my throat. There is nothing I can say to fix his pain, nothing I can do to take his unhappiness away. It kills me. They may be my older brothers, but I have always been fiercely protective of them. To hurt them was to hurt me - and to hurt them was unforgivable.

And Charles.

Charles, who flew through the night to catch my competitions. Charles, who cheered me on, even if he knew nothing about fencing. Charles, who always had an extra Paddock Pass for me. Charles, who always let me have his last cookie or pastry. Charles, who held me when I wailed for weeks after Papa’s passing. Charles put the money he earned in Formula 1 into getting Arthur back into carting. Charles, who always called to scream ‘Happy Birthday’ in my ear.

That Charles.

My brother Charles, would forgive. He will see it as a mistake, he will blame himself. In only a few hours, he will make a statement and tell the truth - because that’s just who he is.

I throw my arms open and catch him as he falls into them.

He doesn’t cry, not at first, just clinging onto me. But then, the moment that Alex’s cries drift onto the open terrace, he begins to weep. He sobbed into my shoulder, pressing his wet face into the fabric of my shirt. He clutches my hand, and I can do nothing but hold him.

I hold him and let him fall apart.

From over Charle’s shoulder, I see Arthur peeking out at us. He wrings his hands, twisting his fingers around. He can’t sit still, pacing around the room, brushing Carla away when she tries to calm him.

I gesture for him to come and he does.

Before I can say a word, he’s wrapping his arms around Charles, burying his face into his back.

“We’ll fix this,” He mumbles, “I - I don’t know how, but we will.”

Charles doesn’t speak, he just searches for Arthur’s hand blindly in the pile of libs and holds on. It’s all we can do. I feel like I am 15 years old, losing our father again. It feels just as it did then, unbearable. But we do just what we did then, we hold each other. Clinging onto the only people that we have known since before we knew them, the only people that will love us even when no one else does.

The only person -

Lorenzo is there, strong arms trying to tuck us all into him. I can feel his warmth against my back and push my face into his chest.

“We’ve got you, Charlie,” He says, “We’ve got you.”

We do.

We always will.

_________________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

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