#nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

life is what happens to you

➝ the life of a mother is not simple but it does not surpass that of the mother of a child who, in theory, does not exist to the world

➝ word count: 5,8k

➝ warnings: mentions of smut, coparenting.

➝ author's note: let's just say the idea of a formula one driver having a secret son gave me ideas.

The doorbell made you jump from the couch, relief filling your chest. As you walked to the apartment door, the sound of laughter made you smile. Finally your heart was home. When you opened it, you found a man and a little boy standing in the doorway, both with huge smiles on their faces.

— Mamá! — the boy exclaimed, throwing himself into your arms as he laughed.

— Hi, my love — you replied, pressing a kiss to his brown hair — How are you? I missed you so much.

— I missed you too, mamá — he murmured, his head nestled against your sternum, his hands resting firmly on your back, as if he were trapping you between his arms. After what felt like an eternity away from him, you never wanted him to let go.

— How was your week? — you asked.

— It was good — the boy replied, turning his head toward the man behind him — I biked a lot, didn't I, papá?

You looked up into a pair of brown eyes that were similar to your son's. The man in front of you had a tender, soft expression. One of his hands gripped the handles of a carry-on bag that you’d packed, and the other was stuffed into the pocket of his dark jeans. He looked exactly the same as the night you had met a Richard Mille event, seven years earlier.

You had been working as a designer for the watch brand for a few years at that point, and had gained a reputation for creating some especially bold pieces. At that time, you were celebrating the launch of your newest creation, the RM 19-02, which featured the first automatic movement for the brand, featuring a magnolia flower that opened and closed as the internal mechanism moved.

Seeing people enchanted by your creation, praising the little details, felt incredible, but all of it became background noise when an incredibly well-dressed man stopped to look at the display. You had seen his face before, but you couldn’t recall his name.

— This is yours, right?

— What? — you asked, half confused by the vagueness of his question, half captivated by how smooth his accent was.

— The design. It’s yours?

— Yes, it's mine.

He smiled.

— I can tell.

— Why? — you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

— It's beautiful like you.

Before long, he had introduced himself as Fernando and that he was a longtime friend of Richard Mille himself. You had a feeling that he wasn’t just any ordinary guest at the party. As the two of you continued talking, he started talking about cars, but you’d long stopped paying attention. His lips were of much more interest to you than the words coming out of them.

Ending up in bed with Fernando felt inevitable. Later that night, you didn't care about the marks on your neck or the volume of your moans. You didn't care how tightly he held your hair or how your hips bumped against his. You didn't mind when he mumbled something about the condom, his words were all lost in the post-orgasm haze.

Three months later, you realized that maybe you should have cared a bit more.

Finding yourself calling Fernando and then showing up at the front door of his house in Lugano with a positive pregnancy test in your purse made you feel like you were in a bad serial drama. You were fully prepared for him to humiliate you and tell you that it couldn’t have been him, that he would have never gotten a woman pregnant on a one-night stand. A pit formed in your stomach as you braced yourself for the inevitable paternity lawsuit you would have to file. 

To your surprise, though, he didn’t take the news badly. He didn’t look angry or shocked, but contemplative. He asked you a few questions about birth control and the morning after, but when you told him that you’d forgotten to take the morning after pill in the blur of the hangover the next day, he sighed.

— Well, I guess we're going to have a baby, then.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

— What…?

He looked at you, his gaze serious.

— You don't want to? I mean, don't you want to continue with the pregnancy? Of course, I'm not forcing you to do anything, if you don't want to continue, we can look at our options and, and I’ll help you pay for the procedure, of course… 

— No, no, I want to have this baby... In fact, legally I can't do anything at this point — you stuttered, shaking your head — I mean... Aren't you going to ask for any proof?

He knit his eyebrows together.

— Do you want me to take a paternity test to verify?

— No, not because I have any doubts, you were the only guy I had sex with in the last few months. It’s just — you said, letting out a nervous laugh — It’s just thought, I thought you’d react in a very different way.

— Different?

— I thought you would be pissed and that I’d have to leave here and find a lawyer — you said softly.

Fernando smiled, taking one of your hands.

— I always wanted to be a father. It’s not the most conventional way, but now that I have the chance, I won't waste it. You can count on me, Y/N.

He had been sincere in offering his support. It wasn’t just monetary, either; even from the first few doctors appointments, Fernando was nothing less than the best co-parent you could have asked for. He was sincere in his willingness to wade waist-deep into the world of pacifiers, dirty diapers, doctors’ appointments, and toys.

However, the joy of having him around didn’t come without a lot of sacrifice and sadness.

Before long, you realized that Fernando was incredibly famous, especially in Spain, his home country. Because of this, and his incredibly public persona as a Formula 1 driver, a lot of legal rules had to be established with regard to the baby. His best friend and business partner, Alberto, diligently drew up a document outlining a custody schedule, restrictions on posting any identifiable images of the child, a future move — paid for by Fernando — when the child came of school age, and an agreement not to disclose the child’s paternity. It was all to protect the privacy of you and your baby, Fernando said.

However, it was worth it, and still was, especially when you saw the sparkle in your son's brown eyes. He was named Leon Alberto Luis, after Fernando’s best friend and father. All the effort was worth it when it came to your little boy, the greatest love of your life.

— Yes, we biked a lot — Fernando replied, looking up at you after dropping your son's bag on the ground — We went all around Parco Ciani, didn't we, Leon?

The boy nodded excitedly.

— And what else did you do? — you asked, as you stroked his hair.

— We played football and papá ordered Japanese food for us...

— Calamari? — you asked, looking up at Fernando again.

— As always — he replied, putting his hands in his jeans pocket. Even after seven years the similarity between Leon and Fernando still caught you off guard. It wasn’t just the physical similarities, either, but their personalities were almost identical. They both were shy at first, but had a great sense of humor once they were comfortable with someone. Both of them were also incredibly witty, with intelligence and mischievousness in equal measure.

— That's good, my dear — you replied, kissing his head — Now, say goodbye to your father and go straight to the shower.

— Do I have to take a shower now? — the boy questioned.

— Yes, you do. I could smell the sweat as soon as the car pulled up.

— I told you she would smell it — Fernando said to your son, ruffling the boy's hair — Now come here, let me give you a kiss.

Leon walked over and hugged his father tightly, his face pressed against his belly. Bowing down a little, Fernando placed a kiss on the boy's forehead and murmured something in Spanish to him, who nodded his head.

— Don't forget to ask, okay, papá? — the boy said, toddling off to his room with his overnight bag. As you looked back up at Fernando, he seemed to have a sheepish look on his face.

— You have something to ask me? — you asked, giving a small smile.

— Yeah, you could say that — he murmured.

— And what would it be?

— I wanted to know if you could... Not that, it's... If you'd like to bring Leon to a race at the end of the month — Fernando stuttered, running a hand through his hair — You know, it's going to be my birthday on the weekend and … You know…

You clenched your jaw. It was a tense subject between the two of you.

The first and only time you took Leon to a race track was, in short, a disaster. It was at the end of 2018, when Fernando had decided to retire from Formula 1 to dedicate himself to other projects, and to spending more time with Leon. The last race would be special, and he wanted his entire family to be there, including you and his son.

However, the steps that Fernando and his team had taken so that you and Leon could enjoy the race in peace was all for naught when journalists began to speculate who the woman and child were who were accompanying the Alonso family around the paddock. In the end, the plan to watch the race from the McLaren garage went down the drain and you ended up hiding away in a small room inside the McLaren motorhome, trying to calm down a screaming four-year-old boy because he wanted to see his father on the track and not on a screen.

— Fernando…

— I know Abu Dhabi was a disaster, I know — he interrupted you — But it was stupid of me to take you to a place where I would be the center of attention, but this time it's different.

— Different how? As far as I know, your season has been brilliant.

The shadow of a smile appeared on his face.

— Are you watching it?

— Leon keeps me updated. He’s watched every single race. Six podiums in eight races, right? — you said, leaning against the doorframe. 

— That's right — Fernando said — The last few races weren't so good, but I believe we can recover, and having you and Leon at the track would be wonderful.

— That's why he told you to ask me, right?

He pursed his lips before letting out a heavy sigh.

— Yes, Y/N — he replied — But, like I said, this time it will be different. My parents and sister won't be there, so it will be easier for you to blend in with the rest of the team’s guests…

— Look, Fernando, I would really like to…

— I asked for normal credentials, without my name, so that you can enjoy the weekend — the driver continued — Please, Y/N, it will be so good to have you there with me, and on my birthday...

— Fernando…

— He even told me what he's going to wear, it's going to be that lime green Kimoa sweatshirt...

— Fernando! — you exclaimed, interrupting him — I know you love Leon, that you want him around but, as you said when I got pregnant, we have to protect him from the media circus.

— I know…

— So you understand that taking him to the middle of a paddock for a race is not the best way to do this, right? I know you both love Formula 1, but we can't risk his safety and privacy because of this.

— But I want him to watch me race…

— And he watches you, Fernando, every weekend. He loves watching you on television, he screams every time you make an overtake. But we have to face the reality of it, and you know that it’s too much of a risk to his safety and privacy. You know that more than anyone.

— I know, which is why I took so many extra steps this time — he replied, running a hand through his hair — Forget about it, okay? When I get back from Spa, let's see about doing something together, okay?

— As long as it's not on a go-karting track — you said, laughing a bit.

— I can't promise that — Fernando said, putting his hand back in his pocket — See you, Y/N.

— See you, Fernando — you replied, as he turned and headed towards the elevator. After a few seconds of staring at his back, you finally closed the door, letting out a long sigh.

It was hard to be the person who said no. However, it was often necessary to curb the impulses of both Leon and Fernando and bring a rational view of the situation to make decisions. Of course, you wanted them to have the most normal coexistence possible, to be able to do normal things that fathers and sons did, but, above everything else, you needed to protect him, even if it meant having to deny what would probably be an amazing experience for the boy.

— Are we going? — Leon's voice broke you out of your thoughts. You turned around to see him in the hallway, looking hopefully at you.

— What?

— Are we going with papá to the race?

— Leon…

— Come on, mamá, it'll be nice. I swear I will behave, I will stay only with you...

— My love, you know it's not just that. There are other things…

— Is it because of Andrea? — he asked.

You swallowed hard, feeling your shoulders tense. It wasn't like Fernando's love life was any of your business, after all, your romantic relationship with him never went beyond the night Leon was conceived. However, you couldn't help but feel a certain distrust every time he showed up in the paddock with a new girl on his arm.

His most recent girlfriend was Andrea, a journalist who covered Formula 1 for an Austrian broadcaster. Even though Leon thought she was kind, and loved playing with her dog, a yellow Labrador named Bodhi, you always felt uneasy in her presence. There was something in the way she looked at you that made you uncomfortable, as if she was studying you, trying to understand your relationship with Fernando and Leon, if there was something more.

— No, it has nothing to do with your father’s girlfriend…

— Papá said she's just his friend now.

— What? — you asked, confused.

— Bodhi wasn't at papá's house when I got there, so I asked where he was and papá told me that he went back to Austria with Andrea — the boy explained — I asked if he was going to Austria too, and papá said no, because he and Andrea are just friends now.

You couldn't help but notice that Leon looked a little upset. You knew he loved dogs, but the fact that you lived in a small apartment prevented you from having a big one, which were his favorites. It also didn't help that Fernando had plenty of space to have a big dog, but wasn’t home often enough to care for one. 

You brought a hand to your son’s face and stroked his cheek.

— You liked him, right?

— Bodhi was nice, mamá — he said — He was always happy to see me. Did you know he liked to lick my face?

You laughed, lifting the hair that fell over his forehead.

— And you loved letting him lick your face, didn't you?

— Yes — the boy said with a mischievous expression — I also liked playing ball with him and Andrea...

— Did he bring you the ball? — you tried to keep up the conversation, ignoring the mention of the woman.

— Yes, he would look for us and ask us to play. I always managed to throw it further than Andrea — Leon said, until his face lit up — Mamá, what if we go to the race and ask Andrea if we can visit Bodhi?

You paused, unsure of how to answer your son’s question.

— We’ll see, my love. Now, go take a shower.

With a hopeful smile on his face, the boy obeyed.

His smile was what made you want to kick yourself. Leaving the possibility of going to the race open was fueling the expectation that Leon had already cultivated within himself for a long time. Doing that just to break your son's heart made you feel like a terrible mother.

“Would it really be so bad if we went to a race?”, you thought as you dropped onto the sofa, looking at the photo on the end table. It was a photo of you and Fernando holding Leon when he was just a few months old, both of you looking at the boy with pure admiration and love. It was as if it was impossible to believe that you had been able to create something as beautiful and pure as Leon. It was precisely that innocence that you wanted to protect from the media monster that prowled the circuits, sniffing out stories and devouring its prey without mercy.

Leon couldn't become another victim. You wouldn’t let it happen.

Over the next few days, you managed to avoid talking about the race, dodging the question any time Leon asked. However, your efforts were in vain when Fernando made a video call with the boy, directly from his room in Budapest. He had no restrictions on seeing Leon, quite the opposite. There were very few days that Fernando didn’t speak to his son somehow. Most of the time it was through calls or text messages, and you were proud of them for managing to become close in spite of Fernando’s insane workload.

During the conversation about what Leon did during the week and in his football practices, your son asked the question you were most afraid of.

— Will I see you next week, papá? — Leon asked.

— Ah, well — Fernando stammered, his eyes seeming to search for your image on the phone screen — You know I'd like to see you, but it's your mom who decides that.

The boy turned to look at you, his face full of hope.

— Can we, mamá?

— Leon…

— Please, mamá, I'll behave, I promise!

You sighed. Something inside you told you that this wasn't a good idea, that it was too risky for his privacy. However, what kind of mother would you be preventing him from seeing his own father? What kind of mother would you be if you kept him trapped in a bubble? What kind of mother would you be to deny something so simple?

— Do you want to go see your papá race?

— Yes, mamá!

— Are you going to stay by my side the whole time and not talk to strangers?

— Yes.

— I mean it, don’t talk to anyone other than me, your papa, and your uncle Alberto. 

— I won't talk to any strangers, I promise, mamá — he said, while Fernando smiled on the device's screen.

— Then we can go, my love — you said to Leon, who immediately looked at the cell phone screen with a giant smile on his face.

— Papá, I'm going to the race! — he exclaimed.

On the other side of the call, Fernando laughed at the boy's excitement, but the way his dimples framed his smile indicated that he was overjoyed with the news.

— Yes, you are! And we’ll have that waffle filled with chocolate sauce I told you about instead of the birthday cake.

— With candles for us to blow out?

— Yes, we will find some candles to put in it, okay?

The boy talked about what he would like to take with him and whether he could sit in the car, which Fernando was happy to confirm. At the end of the call, he blew several kisses to his father, telling him he would see him in five days.

Those five days that seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

On the private flight that Fernando had hired to take you and Leon to Belgium, you couldn’t help but feel restless. Even with all the assurances that you wouldn't have any problems, you couldn't reassure yourself. Terrible scenarios came to mind, unprompted, each one worse than the last. By the time the plane approached the small airport in the region, your anxiety had reached a fever pitch.

— Mamá? — Leon's voice bringing you to reality — Are we there yet?

— Not yet, my love — you replied, looking at him — There’s still a little bit left.

— Is papá going to pick us up at the airport? — your son asked, as you took off the hood of the sweatshirt he had chosen that morning to fix his hair.

— Yes, along with Alberto and Fabri. And we will go straight to the circuit.

The joy on Leon’s face when learning that information was only exceeded by the joy on his face when he saw Fernando waiting for him on the landing strip, a slight smile beneath the hood of his black Boss sweatshirt. The hug between the two made something warm fill your chest, and so did seeing them laughing and joking like any other father and son.

— Thank you for agreeing to come, Y/N — he said, as Leon pulled his father's credential from his sweatshirt pocket and showed it to Fabri.

— It's the least I can do, Fernando — you replied, crossing your arms — And, considering he's your biggest fan...

You both looked at Leon at the same time. The boy was questioning Alberto relentlessly, wanting to know where his credential was and if it was the same as Fernando's. When your eyes met again, you knew that your concern was more evident than you would have liked.

— Look, I — you started, only to be interrupted.

— I know you're scared, especially because of what happened in Abu Dhabi. But rest assured, nobody will bother you.

— Are you sure? — you asked.

— Absolutely — Fernando said, before being interrupted by his son clinging to his arm.

— Let's go, papá! — Leon exclaimed, anxiously — I want to see the track!

The trip to the track was fairly short, with Leon excitedly talking about playing games on the Nintendo Switch in his backpack. 

At the entrance to the paddock, you decided to separate, in order to avoid unnecessary attention. Giving Fernando one last kiss, Leon made him promise that they would meet inside so he could show him the car.

— Your passes are inside — Alberto said, handing you an envelope — I'll send you a message when Fer is free, ok?

— Perfect — you replied, before getting out of the car with Leon, as he waved to his father one last time before Fernando disappeared through the turnstiles. 

The last time you’d come to a race, the paddock was incredibly crowded, but the fact that this was not the final race of the season and the weather was cold and dreary seemed to be keeping the crowds down.

— Where is everybody? — Leon asked you softly, gripping the pass around his neck.

— Well, there's nothing on the track today, so there aren't many people around here — you said  — Which means we can make the most of it.

The boy nodded, holding your hand as you both walked past the rows of paddock buildings. However, when you were passing the structure set up by Red Bull Racing, you felt your phone vibrate in your purse. You let go of Leon’s hand to paw through the contents of your purse in search of your phone. 

— Where, where… Here! — you said, as you unlocked the screen and saw that the call had gone to your voicemail.

However, that became a secondary concern when you realized Leon had run off somewhere. You felt your heart pounding as you started looking for the boy’s brown curls and gray coat. You had only let go of his hand for a second…

— Leon, Leon, my God, Leon — you stammered, about to scold him for not staying by your side even though he promised to do so on the phone call with his father...

— Mamá! — you heard Leon calling out — Here, mamá!

You turned around and found the boy waving at you a few feet in front of you. He was next to a woman wearing a pink coat and her hair in a ponytail, who was sitting on a bench. You walked toward him briskly, your words for him dying on the tip of your tongue when you realized who he was standing next to.

— My love, why…

— Remember I said I was going to talk to Andrea about Bodhi?

You blinked, looking up at Andrea, who had an embarrassed smile on her face and a cup of coffee in her hand.

— Good morning, Y/N — Andrea said softly.

— Good morning, Andrea — you replied, trying to mask your apprehension — I hope Leon isn't bothering you.

— No, never. Leon was just asking me about Bodhi…

— Can we go visit him, Andrea? — the boy asked, expectation shining in his eyes. Placing a hand on your son's shoulder, you were thinking about the best way to say that it wouldn't be possible to go to Austria to visit a dog when the woman gave a warm smile.

— Of course, I can talk to your father and we'll see a day for you to go play with Bodhi — Andrea said, looking up at you. As if she sensed your hesitation in the air, she added quickly — If your mother agrees, of course.

— Let's see, maybe during your school vacations, right, my love? — you replied, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, forcing a smile.

— Yes!

— Perfect. Now let’s go, we have a long day ahead of us and so does Andrea — you said, looking at the journalist with the hope that she would follow your lead.

— Yes, media day is always busy for me — she said, smiling — See you later, Leon.

The boy waved goodbye to Andrea and allowed himself to be led toward the Aston Martin motorhome as you gripped his hand extra firmly. During that short journey, you tried to focus on your own breathing and not on the anxiety that took over your chest and made your stomach turn.

— Mamá…

— Not now, Leon — you replied, trying to remember what color the facilities of the team Fernando was racing for that season were.

— Mamá, you're crushing my hand — your son protested, making you stop suddenly and bend down in front of him.

— Why did you do that?

— What?

— Why did you leave my side?

— Because I saw Andrea and you said we could talk to her...

You let out a long sigh.

— My love, you said you wouldn’t leave my side, remember?

— She wasn’t far from us…

— I know, but you can't run off alone here — you said, placing a hand on the boy's face — Imagine if it were a day with more people, how would I find you? You know that I love you more than anything and that losing you would be the worst thing in the world for me.

Leon pursed his lips, looking upset about what had happened.

— Sorry, mamá — he murmured.

— It’s okay, my love — you replied — Now let's go to the motorhome.

The rest of the day was divided between watching the activity around the track and catching glimpses of Fernando as he circulated around the paddock giving interviews, checking the car's assembly and meeting with the engineers. The highlight of the day was the trip to the garage with Alberto, who introduced you and Leon to the mechanics and allowed Mikey, their leader, to explain the car to the boy.

— Can I get in? — he asked with his eyes shining.

The red-haired man looked at Alberto, who gave a positive nod.

— Of course you can — Mikey replied.

With Leon settled in Fernando's seat and with his hands on the steering wheel that had been positioned just in front of him, the boy seemed completely ecstatic. It felt like he was finally in the right place, where he should have been all along. It was no wonder his grandfather, Luis, was so insistent that they consider getting him into karting as soon as he was old enough.

— You can't see anything from here — he said, looking at you. The mechanics working on Alonso’s car chuckled.

— The drivers are a little taller, so they can see the track — Alberto explained — But, when you're a little older, you’ll be able to see just fine.

Leon smiled, before looking ahead again and pressing his fingers on the steering wheel. It was impossible not to notice how much he looked like the pictures you’d seen of Fernando as a child, so much so that you made a point of taking a picture of him to show Fernando at dinner later.

However, you didn't have that opportunity.

Leon was already lying in bed, watching a cartoon on Netflix. Despite what you had agreed on, Fernando hadn’t been able to leave his meeting with his engineers in time to have dinner with you. His message fell like a bomb on his son's mood, and he barely touched the ice cream that Alberto had offered to share with him. 

— Mamá?

— Yes, my love?

— Is papá coming?

You swallowed hard. The last message you had received from him stated that he was leaving the circuit, and it had been right after you arrived at the hotel suite. At that point, you had no idea when or if he would hit there, especially after that day.

— I don't know, my love — you said, running your hand through his hair — You know that this is still papá's job and he's very dedicated...

— But didn't he say when he's coming? — the boy questioned.

— He texted — you started, only to hear the sound of two knocks on the door. Looking back at Leon, you found his excited expression — Wait here.

You got up from the bed and went to the entrance of the room, feeling relief take over your chest when you saw that it was Fernando.

— Can I come in? — he asked softly, running a hand through his hair.

You nodded and stepped aside so he could come in. Smiling, the driver walked by you, kissing you on the cheek as he passed, before walking over to the bed. Leon had an enormous smile on his face. 

— Papá! — he exclaimed, as Fernado lifted him up into an enormous hug.

— Hola, mijo. I came as soon as I could. Did you have fun today?

— Yes!

— What did you do? Tell me everything.

— Yes, it was really cool. Mamá and I stayed with Melina in the morning and she showed us everything inside. She even got us waffles!

— Does that mean you got the waffles? I always ask them, but they always say they don't have any waffles — the driver said, as you walked around the bed and sat on the other side of Leon — I think I'm going to have a serious talk with them.

— Maybe the waffles are just for the VIP guests, right, my love? — you suggested with a wink, which made your son laugh.

— Yes, only for special guests!

— But I'm their driver! — Fernando exclaimed, in mock indignation — I deserve waffles too!

— Don't you have a weight to keep, Fernando? — you asked.

— Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't eat waffles, especially with my son — he replied, before pouting — But I don't think he likes eating waffles with me...

Almost immediately, the boy laughed.

— I like eating waffles with you, papá…

— You mean we can eat waffles together?

— Yes! — Leon exclaimed.

— With chocolate sauce or honey?

— Hm — the boy thought for a few seconds — Mamá, could it be chocolate?

— Don't you think you ate too much chocolate today?

Leon looked away from Fernando, looking embarrassed.

— It wasn't that much...

— Yes, it was. And I have a photo to prove it.

— You do? — Fernando asked, raising himself on one elbow.

— Yes, I do — you replied, taking the phone that was on the bedside table. A few taps later, the plate of waffles was on the screen in front of Fernando, who seemed somewhat impressed.

— Did you eat all of that? — he asked looking at Leon.

— Yes, every last bit  — you replied — He didn't give me any.

The driver laughed.

— I can imagine the sugar rush you had afterwards…

The conversation between you continued for some time, until Leon began to slowly close his eyes while his father stroked his hair. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep, with his face against Fernando's chest and one of his arms resting on his waist in a hug.

— Y/N? — Fernando asked softly.

— Yeah?

— Was Leon very upset that I couldn't have dinner with you?

You pursed your lips.

— Well, a little. He was really looking forward to seeing you and telling you everything but…

He snorted, looking at the boy.

— I didn't want to stay late — Fernando murmured — But tomorrow there's only one practice session before qualifying for Sunday, so I couldn't avoid it...

— He knows that — you said — I told you that, as much as it's fun, it's still your job and you're very dedicated to it. And you can't win if you don't dedicate yourself, so we have to understand and support you, even if it means you're far from us.

The driver looked up at you, his expression completely unreadable.

— Do you think I'm dedicated?

— That's a stupid question, Fernando.

— I just want to know your opinion — he smiled.

You rolled your eyes.

— Yes, I think you are dedicated and I admire you for that.

— You admire me, huh? — the driver asked in a suggestive tone.

— Professionally speaking — you said, the emphasis in your words causing a giggle to escape his lips.

— I also admire you a lot, Y/N.

— Professionally speaking?

— Personally speaking.

You stared at him in silence for a few seconds, trying to read between the lines of his words. However, the smile on his face made you completely lose your train of thought. It always did.

— Well, thank you — you managed to say, before your eyes found the face of his watch, which indicated that it was already past 11 o'clock at night — But I think it's past your bedtime

— No problem, I can stay a little longer…

— I'd like to rest, since I've had to deal with your son all afternoon.

Fernando laughed.

— He's also your son, in fact, he has a lot of you in him — he said, as he carefully got up from the bed, placing Leon's arm close to his body.

— I know that. But I prefer to highlight your participation so you can understand why I need a good night's sleep.

— And you will have it, I'm sure — Fernando replied, before heading towards the door of your suite. However, before leaving, he turned and smiled at you — Good night, Y/N. See you tomorrow.

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[nordschleifes]

what happens after midnight?

➝ it was just supposed to be ten months of fun and traveling the world. but you didn't count on your heart going against you

➝ word count: 6,5k

➝ warnings: sugar relationships, hospitals, smut

➝ author's note: finally a finished work!

The watch on your wrist indicated that it was 5:30 PM. Pursing your lips, you watched through the screen set up in hospitality as the blue and pink car pulled into the pits for the second time. The momentary confusion that took over the place was replaced by frustration when the engineer's voice sounded across the room.

— Let's retire the car.

The silence that followed could seem melancholic, even given the context. However, you knew that the man inside the car was biting his tongue, holding back all the words that the frustration of yet another race unfinished that season, on that very day, would make him shout over the radio.

“I’m not a kid to whine, Y/N”, you heard him repeat in your mind, the phrase accompanied by the mischievous smile that made your internal organs turn into jelly. You had no idea what it would be like to live without seeing that smile.

Seeing that he was out of the car, you got up from your desk and silently slipped through the halls of the team facility. Something about that lonely walk made your heart sink even more, until you found the door with his name, the white letters against the navy blue background.

Fernando Alonso.

Your paths crossed months ago. With your student debt growing and the salary you earned during your internship being barely enough to pay your share of the bills for the apartment you lived in with a colleague, you decided to turn to the suggestion of one of your friends, whose life you had given a turning point after registering on a website specializing in sugar relationships.

The first few weeks were unpromising. The guys you had expressed interest in seemed more interested in more pictures of your breasts than in actually talking to you and coming to an agreement. Until, during a break in your shift at the hospital, a suggested profile caught your attention.

The main photo appeared to be professional, taken on the deck of a yacht, and showed a man with dark hair and the shadow of a smile on his face with his arms crossed. The other images were more informal, one taken next to an airplane window and another in the gym, a headband and the bulging veins on his neck indicating that he was exerting himself.

In the profile description, he presented himself as Fernando, a 41-year-old Spaniard looking for someone who could accompany him on his travels in exchange for a generous payment. The idea of getting paid to travel seemed interesting, but it definitely didn't fit with your idea of continuing your studies to become a doctor in Miami.

That night, you ended up not touching the heart on the screen.

However, as fate would have it, at the end of your internship, you did not receive the letter of recommendation that you needed so much to apply for the residency program that you had dreamed of since the beginning of your degree. You were passionate about the field of pediatrics and the idea of working in one of the great children's hospitals in Florida, the Holtz Children's Hospital, were always in your mind.

— Y/N, it is clear that, despite you being an excellent intern, you have been making silly mistakes when filling out the forms and records — your advisor said during your last meeting — Furthermore, the reports are far below what we expect from a student with your ability.

— But, my grades…

— They are sufficient, yes, but the program requires more than grades, Y/N — he said, as he removed his glasses — It requires residents to be in their best shape, both academically and mentally. And it's clear to me that you don't meet the second requirement.

You blinked. Was it so obvious that you were tired?

— So, what should I do? — you asked, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

— I would advise you to try to apply for it next year.

— But, what can I do until then?

— I would recommend that you rest a little before continuing with your plans — he replied, smiling — Maybe learning a new hobby would be good. That or even a trip around the world, who knows.

Leaving your advisor's office with your dreams postponed had been a blow to you. However, his words reminded you of the man who was looking for someone to travel with. Sitting in your car, you searched for his profile and, after a deep sigh, you typed a short message, a simple question.

Still looking for a travel companion?

The answer didn't take long and came in a playful tone.

So obvious?

Well, that's what it says on your profile.

Good to know that you read it.

I thought it was something basic.

You'd be amazed at how many women don't read it before sending a message.

I can't blame them, your photos are much more interesting.

The conversation between you flowed almost naturally. He seemed intelligent, good-natured and, above all, interested in your life and career, asking questions and sharing little details, like the fact that his sister was also a doctor, just like you wanted to be. It was impossible to deny that there was an interesting chemistry between you.

However, this was not a flirting game, but rather, a business deal.

Do you still want to accompany me on my travels?

Well, I wouldn't be answering you if I wasn't interested, would I?

Very funny.

I'm just being honest.

Looking at the three dots flashing on the screen, there was some anticipation building up in your chest.

I like honesty. It's a good quality.

I assume you're honest too.

I am. So much so that I want to do this the right way. Can we meet next week?

Will you be in Miami?

In fact, in New York. But I can take a detour, what do you think?

Perfect.

Your first meeting was at a high-end Japanese restaurant, located on Claughton Island, called NAOE. You even thought you were in the wrong place, since the space was completely empty except for the employees who were preparing the dishes next to the chef, who was wearing a sort of white kimono. However, after identifying yourself, the maître d' confirmed that you were in the right place and asked you to sit at the only table that had been prepared there, conveniently behind a bamboo screen.

Fernando arrived shortly after, making you jump to your feet.

— Good evening, Y/N — he said, before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek — It's a pleasure to finally meet you.

— The pleasure is all mine.

After settling in at the table, the waiter wrote down the drinks you had chosen before returning to the kitchen. However, the request from the man in front of you only made you even more curious.

— Aren't you going to drink anything tonight?

Fernando smiled a little.

— I don’t drink.

— Never?

— Never. After I realized that alcohol wouldn't make me go faster, I chose to give it up — he replied — I don't smoke either, if that's your next question.

—Actually, my next question would be if I can drink in your presence — you smiled.

— As far as I know, we haven't signed anything. You can do whatever you want.

Dinner continued without any of you mentioning the agreement that had made him fly to Miami to see you. However, at the same time as you were eager to settle everything with him, something told you to let him bring up the subject.

— Are you always this quiet? — Fernando asked, as he put down the glass of water.

— No — you said, after swallowing the piece of sushi you were chewing.

— So there's something bothering you.

— No, there isn't.

He stared into your eyes, seeming to read between the lines of your words. Then, he let out a sigh, reaching into his pants’ pocket and taking out his cell phone.

— You want to talk about our agreement, don't you?

— Well, that's what you came here to do, isn't it?

— Actually, my intention was just to enjoy some good Japanese food alongside an interesting woman — Fernando said, while searching for something on the device — But, if you prefer to get straight to the point...

He held out the phone toward you. When you picked it up, you noticed that there was a document on the screen, with the title “Relationship Agreement” in bold letters at the top of it. Something about those words made your stomach churn with tension.

— I asked my lawyer to write a draft to guide our conversation. However, I want to make it clear that there are some topics that are non-negotiable for me…

— Sex? — you asked, raising an eyebrow.

— Confidentiality — Fernando replied — I'm a discreet person when it comes to my personal life and the last thing I want is my face on the cover of gossip magazines.

— So sex is negotiable?

— You're very interested in this topic, aren't you?

— Are you not interested?

A mischievous smile appeared on Fernando's lips.

— No — he replied — It's in the contract, if you want to take a look. Page three, if I'm not mistaken.

You scrolled through the document until you found the section that talked about intimacy, reading it carefully. In the document, sexual relations and any contact that could be classified as such were completely prohibited, as your relationship would be limited to the emotional context.

— This means…

— That I don't want sex from you. I just want your company, guapa.

— And you're going to pay me for this? — you raised an eyebrow.

— Yes, as described in the section on financial support — Fernando replied — The trips will be paid by me, as well as all your expenses while you are accompanying me. I will also give you a monthly allowance to do whatever you want with it.

You looked at his phone again, thoughtfully.

— You'll have an apartment in Monaco too — he murmured, as he ran his index finger along the rim of his glass.

— I will? Why?

— Because I want you around, Y/N. Besides, making you come back here every time will be too exhausting. Believe me, the first time is amazing, but after doing this for 20 years, flying has become the part I hate most about my job.

Pursing your lips, you looked up at the driver.

— And how long would that be valid?

— Until midnight of November 20th.

That's how you agreed to become Fernando's traveling companion, as he preferred to put it. And you could only describe those last few months as “a dream”.

When the door to the small room opened, you jumped up in the chair you were in, waking up suddenly from your daydreams. On the wall, the clock indicated that it was already past 6PM. Walking through the door, Fernando held a white towel in his hand and a bottle of water, keeping his head down. Behind him, Edoardo, his physiotherapist, was saying something in Italian, which he wasn't paying attention to.

— Prepare qui le nostre cose e, dopo la gara, lasceremo tutto alle persone dell'Aston — the driver replied, before raising his head and finding you in front of him. Pursing your lips, you fought your own frustration to be open to accepting his. And today, more than ever, Fernando needed you.

Dropping his things haphazardly on a small table placed next to the door, he walked over to you in silence, allowing you to wrap your arms around him and hug him. The silence that followed made your heart tighten in his chest. It wasn't the end of the season he deserved, quite the opposite.

— What happened? — you asked.

— Water pump — Fernando replied, the irritation evident in his voice — That shitbox…

You let out a sigh, stroking the back of his neck.

— It's okay, Fer. Now it's over.

Lifting his head, the driver looked at you, brushing aside a strand of your hair.

— Yeah. It’s over.

— Are you happy? — you asked in a low voice.

— That it’s over? I think so — Fernando said, while you watched a drop of sweat run down his temple — But, I have the feeling that I could have done it differently.

— Differently?

— I think I waited too long, guapa — he murmured.

— But it's over now. And you will move on, to a new place, with new people.

Fernando smiled a little.

— Yeah, I will.

He walked away from you to change, taking off his overalls and underwear to put on his shorts and blue team shirt. Meanwhile, you approached the table where his things were, such as his cell phone, his pass and the blue cap he had been wearing all day. Taking the accessory, you turned to him, who was sitting in a chair, tying his sneakers.

— Your cap — you said, smiling.

— Is my hair that bad?

You nodded, causing Fernando to laugh before stretching his hand towards you. However, you didn't hand it to him, preferring to push the strands that were on his forehead before positioning the accessory on his head. After arranging the strands at the back, he stood up with a smile.

— Thank you, guapa — the driver said, giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading towards the door and, consequently, the cameras that awaited him. After the door closed, your eyes found the hands of the clock on the wall.

“There’s still a long way to go”, you thought.

Between meetings, photos, goodbyes, welcomes and a long break for dinner, you and Fernando arrived at the double room you shared late at night. However, contrary to what you expected that morning, you didn't feel relief that the marathon was over or anxiety about finally catching your plane back to the United States.

You felt an almost suffocating sadness.

— What time does your flight leave tomorrow? — Fernando asked, settling down on the sofa in the small hall that connected the rooms while you placed your bag on the table in front of the television.

— Eight in the morning, I guess — you murmured, turning your face towards him — Why?

— Not at all, I just — he hesitated for a few seconds, running a hand through his hair — I wanted to know.

— Do you want to take me to the airport?

— Sincerely? No.

The coldness of the response made your throat tighten. Part of you wished he had replied that he wanted to take you to the airport. Part of you wanted him to say that he would like to spend every possible second by your side before you, inevitably, had to follow your own paths, your own destinies, that weren't tied to each other.

— You think it will be easier this way, don't you? — you murmured, trying to hide the pain in your voice.

— No — he replied, his eyes searching yours. You didn't want to look at him, but at the same time, you knew that this could be the last time you would do that — I think, one way or another, it's going to be the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

The silence in that room was the longest that had ever stretched between you during all those months of coexistence.

— Why would it be?

— It doesn't matter now, Y/N.

You pressed your lips together, feeling something tighten in your throat.

Going back to Miami was the last thing you wanted at that moment. You wanted to be by his side. You wanted to wake up every day to his voice humming some song whose lyrics you didn't understand. You wanted to see the smile on his face every time you commented on an article about pediatrics that you had read.

However, you needed to go back. Those last few months had just been a detour, a break from his monotonous routine. There were people, commitments, a residency whose selection you had passed with flying colors, a lifetime of taking care of children waiting for you to move on.

And moving forward meant leaving Fernando behind.

You didn't notice the moment the first tear ran down your face, nor the second. But you noticed the movement of the driver in front of you, approaching with heavy steps. Placing his hands on your face, his expression was serious, almost dark, contrasting with the heat in his eyes.

— I have to let you go in peace — Fernando said softly, his thumb sliding over one of the tears that was stuck on your cheek.

Your lower lip trembled. You just wish it were all easier.

— Please, Y/N — Fernando continued — Don't ask me to take you to the airport. Don't ask me to say goodbye to you. Don't ask me to see you leaving, because I won't bear seeing you get on a plane without me.

At that moment, you had no idea if you would be able to get on a plane in a few hours. Not without Fernando by your side, carrying his trusty black backpack and making some comment about having a sweatshirt ready for you to wear when you get cold during the flight.

So, you asked the only question your mind was capable of formulating.

— What time is it?

— What?

— What time is it, Fernando? — you repeated, seriously.

Still holding his face, he turned his wrist slightly to look at the hands of the black Richard Mille he was wearing.

— Two past midnight — he murmured — You’re free now.

— No, I'm not free — you replied, bringing your face closer to his.

— But…

— I stopped being free a long time ago, Fernando.

Fernando's expression seemed sad, which made your heart feel heavy inside your chest.

You didn't know how to explain to Fernando that you would never be free again simply because you were completely in love with him. So much so that you hadn't even realized the exact moment it had happened.

Maybe it was the day he saw you reading an article about early childhood nutrition and asked you to explain the impact of cow's milk on babies. Maybe it was the day he took you on his motorbike to a viewpoint so you could watch the sunset over Monaco. Maybe it was the moment he introduced his world to you, describing every detail with enchanting passion. Maybe it was the day you pressed that heart on your cell phone screen, right below his photo.

And no piece of paper could control what your heart felt.

Using whatever courage you had left, you tilted your head and closed your eyes, brushing your lips against his. The touch was delicate and subtle, but enough to fill your chest with an almost unbearable heat. You had thought so much about what that moment would be like, fantasized so much about the different possibilities, imagined so many times what it would be like to be in Fernando's arms, that you felt a little hesitant about continuing.

However, the decision about the direction of that shy kiss was made by the driver. Moving closer to you, he placed your mouth completely against his, hands sliding towards the back of your neck. After a few seconds, he pulled away, panting.

— Y/N…

— Please, Fer.

However, he pulled away from you, pain evident in his green-stained eyes.

— No, Y/N — Fernando said, in a firm tone — Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be for both of us.

— You're the one who's making it difficult — you replied, feeling more tears filling your eyes — I want this...

— But you don't need this — he growled — You need to go back to your city, to your apartment, to your life. And this life has no place for me, just as there is no place for you in mine.

The statement was like a punch in the gut. Taking a step back, the feeling was of having awakened from the best dream of your life to find a true nightmare. Mentally, you questioned everything that had happened so far, from the dinner in Miami to that kiss permeated by your desire for him that had been repressed for so long. “So it was all a lie?”, you thought, as he walked towards his room.

— Fer…

— Goodbye, Y/N — he murmured over his shoulder, before disappearing into the dim light, with the door closing behind him.

Your skin felt cold, even in the residual desert heat that remained inside the suite. It was almost unbelievable that this would be the end of those ten months of smiles, jokes and laughter as the two of you traveled the world. A dry and cruel goodbye, without even looking back.

Walking slowly towards your room, you couldn't help but feel a strange emptiness inside your chest. Dropping down on the mattress anyway, you realized how exhausted you were, both physically, courtesy of the intense pace of a race day, and emotionally, with the mix of completely opposite feelings that made your lower lip tremble.

You felt that it was unfair, that the way you were being discarded by Fernando was cruel, not to mention painful. And the worst part was not being able to understand the reason for that attitude, for that cold look that shattered your heart. However, your rational side soon began to whisper in the back of your mind, condemning you for believing that he could see you beyond who you were from the beginning.

An acquisition. A product. A pretty thing for him to drag around the circuits.

That realization made tears run down your face, anger and sadness spilling out of you and making you sob loudly. You even thought about smothering your crying with the pillow, but you didn't move, allowing it to echo off the walls of the room, until it lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You woke up to the sound of your cell phone's alarm clock. Rubbing your eyes, you stared at the ceiling for long seconds before finally working up the courage to get up from the bed and move forward.

Exactly as Fernando had asked.

As soon as you arrived in Miami, you decided to buy, with the money you had saved in the last few months, a studio near the beach, in addition to arranging the documentation for your residency at Holtz Children's Hospital, which was about to begin. Watching the fireworks that lit up the sea and announced the arrival of a new year, you promised yourself that the months to come would be better than the previous ones.

And by better, you meant no trips, no adventures and no crazy things.

No looks, no jokes, no laughter.

No men, no athletes, no Fernando.

The first few months passed in a blur. Hospital shifts took up much of your time, and your free time was spent reading articles about intriguing cases and organizing your new place. You didn't even notice spring arriving in the city, much less the anticipation for the great sporting event that the city would host in the following weeks.

You were making your first round of the rooms in the west wing of the hospital when, upon entering a room, you came across a little boy playing with a model of a dark blue Formula 1 car. Swallowing hard, you smiled widely.

— Good morning, Mrs. Melendi.

The boy's mother jumped up from her armchair.

— Good morning, doctor — she replied — Greet her, Omar.

The boy looked up at you.

— Hi.

— Good morning, Omar — you greeted him, placing one of your hands on the guard of his bed — How are you feeling today?

— Well — he replied, returning his attention to the cart.

— He spent the night better, doctor, breathing better. But he is still coughing a lot and complains of chest pain.

Accessing Omar's chart on your iPad, you pursed your lips as you thought. The boy's body should already be fighting harder against the infection in his lungs, but his history of asthma didn't make you so optimistic in this regard. This was one of those cases that would ask for patience, both from you and from the boy's mother.

— Well, the night has already brought a good sign. However, the cough will still persist for a while, as the body is trying to get this fluid out somehow. For now, let's continue with what was prescribed and I'll ask the physiotherapy team to send someone here to do some exercises to speed up the release of this secretion, okay?

— Doctor, does this mean I'll be able to see Checo?

You blinked, trying to process if you had understood correctly.

— Who?

— Checo, the Formula 1 driver! — Omar exclaimed — He's going to race here this week!

The Miami Grand Prix, you had completely forgotten about that.

— Ah, I see — you smiled — Everything will depend on your progress. If you take your medication correctly and undergo rehabilitation, I can try to release you by Friday. What do you think?

The boy agreed to your proposal, seeming excited about the prospect of seeing his idol race. However, as you left the room, you felt completely dazed, the memories of the previous year filling your eyes with tears.

That was a weekend of ups and downs, with a punishment causing Fernando to lose the measly two points he had managed to gain. However, those days had been worth it just for the opportunity to introduce him to your city and see how he was enchanted by every detail.

— Doctor? Are you okay? — someone asked you. Looking to the side, you found one of the nurses looking at you somewhat confused.

— Yes, everything is fine.

— Did something happen to Omar?

— No, he's progressing well — you replied, trying to compose yourself — I'm going to ask the rehabilitation staff to do a respiratory therapy session to speed up the drainage of fluids.

— Is the medication dosage still the same?

— Yes, everything’s the same — you murmured, before continuing your rounds, trying to ignore the memories that had been awakened during the visit to Omar's room. However, the task became more difficult when a notification with a painfully familiar name appeared on your cell phone during one of your breaks.

Hi, how are you?

Staring at the screen in almost disbelief, you took a few seconds to type a response, trying to balance your emotions in a single line.

Hello, Fernando. I'm fine, thanks for asking.

Are you in Miami?

Yes, why?

I found your sweatshirt in my apartment. I wanted to give you back.

The photo that accompanied the message made something turn in your stomach. That was your favorite sweatshirt, the first one you had bought when you entered university, and at that point, you had already come to terms with the fact that it was lost forever.

Oh, do you want me to go take it back?

No, I can give it to you. Where are you?

I'm still in the hospital, you can leave it at reception.

I want to hand it personally to you. I can stop by your place later, what do you think?

You were already regretting your answer as you walked to the entrance of your studio, feeling suffocated by anxiety. However, when you opened the door, it was as if you had come to the surface to breathe again, the familiar warmth spreading through your chest.

In front of you was Fernando. He didn't seem to have changed at all since the last time you had seen him, on that fateful night in Abu Dhabi. With a shy smile on his face, he wore a green shirt with the familiar silver wings of Aston Martin, the team he was racing for that year, as well as a white box in his hands.

“This color makes him even more handsome”, you thought to yourself.

— Hi — the driver said softly.

— Hey.

— Can I enter?

— Yeah, sure — you replied, opening the way for him.

The driver passed you silently, taking in the space you were living in. Seeing him there, in the place you had chosen to recover after the mess that had been that Sunday in Abu Dhabi, was strange, not to say wrong. However, this was definitely not the time to question whether his presence there was appropriate or not.

— Everything’s good? — you asked, trying to start a dialogue with him.

— Yeah, all very well. And with you?

— All good.

— It's yours? — he questioned you, gesturing with his finger to refer to the place.

— Yeah, it's mine. I bought it as soon as I got back here — you replied.

Fernando approached a shelf where there were some photos of the trips you had taken with him. There were images from all over the world, from Japan to Brazil, some with your silhouette highlighted or even his. However, he didn't seem to notice that particular detail, as he pointed to another framed image.

— Sardinia?

— Monaco. It's the beach in front of your apartment.

The silence that stretched between you was long, almost deafening. Crossing your arms, you tried to maintain a neutral expression, trying to focus on anything other than the charming lock that fell across his forehead.

— Do you miss it? — Fernando asked.

— Monaco? Not much, I didn't spend enough time there.

— And me?

You looked away to the apartment door, giggling awkwardly.

— I thought you were coming to give me back my hoodie, not do an interrogation.

— Here's your hoodie — he said, harshly, extending the box towards you — And this isn't an interrogation, Y/N. I just asked a question.

— About how I feel about you — you murmured, taking the box and placing it on your dining table.

— Is it wrong to ask?

— When that question doesn't make any sense, yes, it's wrong — you replied, looking over your shoulder.

— Why?

— Because it's wrong, Fernando.

— That's not an answer, Y/N — he replied — Come on, why doesn't it make sense?

Turning at once, anger rose like a hot wave across the back of your neck.

— Because you just discarded me like I was a fucking defective toy.

Fernando looked at you, seriously.

— You know that's not how I see you.

— No? And when you said you didn't have any space in your life for me? Isn't that discarding?

— Y/N — the driver murmured, running a hand through his hair.

— What? — you growled — Is this the way you show that you like me, that you care about me? Saying you don't want me near you?

You didn't have time to react before he advanced towards you, stopping just inches from your face. Fernando was so close to you that you could feel the heat of his skin, as well as the warm and slightly sweet smell of the cologne he was wearing at that moment. It was different from what he normally wore, but it wasn't all bad.

— Would you rather I forbid you from returning? That I stopped you from realizing your dreams? — he returned — Would you prefer if I locked you in a cage or put a collar around your neck to have you all to myself?

The words were stuck in your throat, your bottom lip trembling.

— I know my place in your life, Y/N. And I can't fight it, I can't fight the fact that I can't go further.

— Can't, or don't want to? — you asked in a low voice.

Fernando stared at you for long seconds, as if he was measuring his own words. Bringing your hands up to his face, you stroked the gray speckled beard you loved so much but had never been able to convince him to keep.

— I can't — he murmured, as his thumbs drew circles on his cheek — Y/N, please...

— But you want it — you stated, your eyes going down to his mouth, where his tongue slid to moisten his own lips — You want me.

— Yes, but…

— Then take what you want. Kiss me, touch me, make me what I was from the beginning, from the moment you looked at me for the first time.

The seconds of silence that stretched after your words seemed endless. Bringing your face closer to his, your nose lightly touched Fernando's, almost as a foreshadowing of what was about to happen.

— Make me yours — you whispered.

The moment his lips touched yours was sublime. Your chest filled with a hot, overwhelming sensation, your hands gripping his face tightly. At that moment, you tried to hold on to that feeling of finally being in the place you always imagined yourself in: in Fernando's arms.

It didn't take long for his tongue to invade your mouth, his hands squeezing your waist and bringing your body closer, as if he wanted you two to become one. And personally, that was your only desire at that moment, as you slid your lips down his neck.

— You've always been a naughty girl, haven't you? — Fernando asked as soon as you nibbled on his ear, your fingers squeezing your skin — So naughty, so beautiful...

Taking a few steps back, the driver escaped from you momentarily, sitting on the gray sofa you had in the living room. With his hands to your shirt, you didn't need any words from him to rip it off your body, your shorts sliding down your legs soon after. Taking in the sight of you completely naked for the first time, an almost boyish gleam appeared in Fernando's eyes.

— You are much more beautiful than I imagined…

— You mean you imagined me naked? — you questioned with a suggestive smile, while positioning your knees next to his legs, straddling his lap.

— It's hard not to imagine when you wore those indecent little pajamas of yours to bed — he murmured, his hands sliding down your thighs, while you supported yourself on his shoulders — That baby blue one was wonderful.

— Do you want me to put it on?

A mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

— Now that I've taken off your clothes, I'm not going to ask you to put them back on — Fernando replied, taking his hand to his face and, with a subtle movement, bringing his lips to his in a delicate, almost careful kiss. It was up to you, after a few seconds, to wrap your arms around his neck and ask for passage to explore his mouth the way you wanted.

Sliding his hands down to your butt, the driver made you stand up, bringing his face to one of your breasts. The soft touch of his tongue made you shudder, your fingers digging into his dark curls as a moan escaped his lips.

— I could hear you moaning all night long — Fernando murmured against your skin, his eyes fixed on yours, getting drunk with the pleasure in your expression — Asking, begging for me, the way I always imagined...

It didn't take long for you to start to feel the arousal become uncomfortable, almost painful. You needed more, much more than just kisses and nibbles on your breasts. Lowering your hips just above the not-so-discreet bulge in his shorts, you looked at Fernando, trying to condense what you wanted into a look full of desire.

Without saying anything, he repositioned you a little back, giving him some space to open the button and zipper of your shorts, sliding them and your underwear down. The movement allowed his dick to be revealed, hard and particularly large, with the veins standing out along its length. Biting your lower lip, you brought your index finger to one of them, following the path from the base to the tip, feeling Fernando's muscles tense.

— What do you think?

Looking up at him, you smiled.

— Good.

—Wasn't that what you imagined?

— It's hard to say, since every time I imagined your dick, it was in my mouth or my pussy.

Bringing a hand to your face, Fernando caressed your cheek.

— You are very naughty.

You chose not to answer, rising again to align your own entrance with his cock. Then, you lowered yourself, feeling him enter inch by inch, settling inside you. Closing your eyes, you allowed a moan to escape your lips, as did Fernando, who grunted against your neck.

After a few seconds, you started to move, testing angles and rhythms, until you found one that you liked. With your hands resting on his shoulders, you alternated between quick vertical movements, followed by slower, deeper thrusts. At that point, her breasts were completely red, marked by Fernando's teeth and hickeys. Marks that you would carry with pride, because it was his mouth and his passion that had done it.

— You're so beautiful — he growled, as his hands roamed over her skin — How could I have been able to let you go...

You couldn't resist the urge to kiss him again, searching for Fernando's lips as if they were the surface and you were looking for air to breathe. In that tangle of arms, hands and fingers, you felt complete. Finally complete.

— I'm going to... Oh my God, Fer, I'm going to cum — you whimpered, as you slid your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone. Noticing the agony in your expression, he slid his hand until he reached your most sensitive spot. Then, massaging it, he brought you to orgasm, making you let out a loud moan, your muscles shaking and your head lolling back.

Beneath his body, Fernando took a few seconds before reaching his peak, spilling himself inside you with a loud moan, his hands holding your hips tightly to stop your movement.

The silence inside the room wasn't complete due to your heavy breathing. With your forehead pressed against his, your eyes were closed, absorbing that moment and the entire range of feelings that filled your chest with an inexplicable warmth.

— Y/N — Fernando whispered.

— Yeah?

— What now?

You moved your face slightly away from his, analyzing his furrowed eyebrows and anxiety-filled brown eyes. You knew it was impossible to turn around or simply pretend it hadn't happened, especially when you were sure you wanted to do it several more times. But did he want that?

— Well, we have two ways — you started, brushing his bangs away from his forehead — We can classify this as an accident on the road and go back to our lives...

— No, definitely not.

— Or we can stop fooling ourselves and actually live this.

— This? — he raised an eyebrow.

— This. Our relationship — you tried to classify it.

— And by truly living, you mean…

— Without pretending that we don’t have feelings for eachother.

Fernando pressed his lips together, looking away from yours. He was definitely hesitant about taking that step. And you were sure you wouldn't let him leave you there, with that doubt hanging over you.

— Do you want me to come back with you to Europe? — you asked softly, making him look at you again.

— Would you come back?

— If you wanted.

The driver let out a heavy sigh.

— I don't want to ask you this, Y/N.

— Why not?

— Because I don't want you to give up everything for me and my career.

— You talk as if this is the only place in the world where there are hospitals accepting residents — you countered, placing your hands on his cheeks — I'll find a way, Fer. We'll find a way. But I ask you just one thing.

— What?

— Don't leave me here, alone.

Fernando smiled, bringing his face closer to yours.

— Never, guapa.

#fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #nordswrites #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #fa #formula 1 fic #formula one fic #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #formula one fanfic

[nordschleifes]

body work

➝ maybe agreeing to go to saudi arabia wasn't a bad idea…

➝ word count: 4,5k

➝ warnings: dakar!fer, flirting, mentions of bdsm, hot weather

➝ author's note: this last week has been extremely difficult for me, both emotionally and physically. i had a terrible migraine attack that left me practically unable to do anything other than cry or want to vomit. however, when she gave me a break, i managed to finish this one shot. i would really like your feedback, if possible!

You could feel your white t-shirt sticking to your skin, as well as your hair on the back of your neck. The desert sun made even the slightest effort feel Herculean, the hot wind doing little to alleviate the heat you felt even under the tent pitched on a stony plain near Al Wajh.

This was definitely not the way you wanted to start your year, but it wasn't like you had much of a choice. With a practically free schedule and a colleague unable to travel due to personal problems, it was up to you to go to Saudi Arabia to take care of one of the clinic's most famous patients.

— Fernando is almost here — you heard someone murmur next to you. Turning your face, you found a man with wavy hair messed up by the wind and his eyes half-closed as he looked at the horizon, searching for something on the horizon.

— Are you sure, Alberto? — you asked the businessman, raising an eyebrow — It's been ten minutes since people started arriving and nothing about them...

— From what they said, they were right behind another Toyota — he said, while a cloud of dust rose in the distance, indicating that another competitor was arriving at the competition camp — Ah, look at him there.

After crossing the finish line, you accompanied Alberto in an attempt to take the red, white and black painted Hilux to the closest point to the motorhome that had become your base of operations. As you approached the vehicle, which smelled of hot oil and gasoline, you saw the door suddenly open, revealing a figure wearing a blue helmet and a black jumpsuit with white and red trim.

— How it was? — Alberto asked, while the driver disconnected something from the central panel.

— Sand, stone and dust for ten hours — Fernando replied, as he unbuckled his seat belt and removed his helmet, revealing a tired smile — Ten hours! Can you believe that?

— I do — the businessman said, while helping the driver out of the truck. After throwing his helmet on the seat and hugging Alberto, Fernando headed towards the reporters who were crowding around a railing to talk to him.

Watching the driver take off his sandy coveralls, leaving his sweaty white Nomex in full view, you felt something warm rise up your cheeks, teeth finding your bottom lip.

You had never been carried away by the physical nature of your work. The barriers you had placed for yourself were always firm, as were your ethics that dictated that you should never get involved with anyone who requested your services. But since you had set foot in Jeddah, you have seen your own conviction tested every day.

And it was getting harder and harder to resist.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and headed towards the tent set up next to Fernando's motorhome. Upon entering the space, you realized how much needed to be done there before the driver arrived for his much needed physical therapy session. You still had to set up the table, arrange the materials and put on the instrumental playlist you loved. “Let’s go”, you thought as you headed towards your bag.

You were whistling some tune while lighting the scented candles when you heard a clearing of your throat coming from behind. When you turned around, you met Fernando's dark, curious eyes.

— Which song is that? — he asked.

— Ah — you smiled, while shaking the match you had used to light the last candle — I don't know, actually...

— It doesn't sound like that Ayurvedic nonsense you listen to during sessions — the driver slowly approached the massage table, resting one hand on it.

— It's not nonsense, Fernando, it's a way to help you disconnect and relax — you replied — Lie down.

— Edo doesn't put things like that — he murmured, as he sat on the kind of stretcher you had set up in the middle of the tent. Wearing a black coat over a white shirt and shorts of the same color, his hair had damp ends, probably from the shower — He knows that doesn't help.

— And that must be why you're always stressed — you said, giggling — Do you prefer forest sounds, then?

— I prefer the lovely chirping of a V10 engine — Fernando said, as the table he was sitting on creaked under his weight.

— Sounds of the forest, then — you concluded, taking the phone and connecting the device to the small speaker that was next to you. It wasn't long before the rustling of leaves filled the tent, contrasting with the engines and conversations coming from outside.

Putting your cell phone in your pocket, you brushed your hair away from your face as you approached the massage table, assessing Fernando's expression, who seemed bothered by something.

— Any points I need to focus on today? — you asked, resting your hands right next to his leg.

— On the left ankle — the driver replied, the crack drawing your attention to the spot below him. Moving the foot in circles, the sound repeated itself in an almost sickening way — It doesn't hurt, but it didn't make that noise before, so...

Standing next to his foot, you began moving it, trying to understand where the sound was coming from. Your fingers pressed Fernando's skin in search of the tendons and joints, the precise touch in search of what was bothering him.

After a few minutes of thorough exploration, without the driver making a sound of protest, you pressed your lips together. Although the absence of pain was a relief, unusual and frequent sounds meant there was an injury waiting to happen. And considering how much he must use that foot, having a strength problem at that point wasn't a good thing.

— Well, you aren’t injured…

— Excellent.

— Yet — you added, while letting go of his ankle — I think you'll have to do some tests when you get back home to see if you really have any problems.

— Could it get worse in the next few days?

— In theory, no, especially since you're not feeling any pain. But I'll talk to Edoardo and see what we can do. Any other points that worry you? — you asked, receiving a refusal from Fernando — So let's move on.

Turning to the small table you had requested to place your materials, you picked up the bottle that held your favorite massage oil and dripped a few drops into the palm of your hand. Then you walked back to the massage table where the driver was lying, his eyes fixed on the roof of the tent.

— Let me know if you feel anything — you murmured, before taking your hands to his calf and starting to massage it.

The movement of your fingers under Fernando's skin, searching for the small nodules where the stress and, consequently, the pain were, was something that relaxed you, in a way. Maybe it was the way you repeated the movements, the way your chest filled with satisfaction when you found a point where you could release the tension that was built up in his body after ten long hours of driving in the middle of the desert.

When you pressed a specific spot near his ankle, you heard him hiss.

— Did it hurt? — you asked.

— A little — Fernando replied, still staring at the ceiling.

— I'll be careful.

— No need — he murmured, which made you look at his face.

— Fernando…

— I’m fine, you can continue. Pain is good, sometimes...

You couldn't hold back a smile.

— Is there something bothering you? — you began, while pressing his calf muscles again in search of stress points — Or is this your way of revealing to me that you are a masochist?

The driver suddenly raised his head.

— Masochist?

You felt something warm rise up your cheeks. That kind of conversation was definitely not in the appropriate category, as your professor of ethics and deontology in physiotherapy had put it on the blackboard in one of the classes.

— It's just a guess — you replied quickly, turning to the table in search of more oil and a few seconds to breathe.

— Based on what? — Fernando asked.

When you turned back to the driver, you found him raised on his elbows. His gaze had a gleam of curiosity and something you couldn't identify.

— You just said the pain is good — you said, placing one of your hands just above his knee and below the edge of his shorts — I think it's a rather obvious hint of what you like in bed.

Fernando raised an eyebrow.

— You mean you think about what I like in bed?

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, fingers starting to work on his rectus femoris.

— Please, Fernando — you murmured, feeling your heart pounding inside your chest. That wasn't right, you couldn't think about those details about your patients, especially when it came to him.

— Come on, do you think or not? — he insisted, in a challenging tone.

— I'm not going to answer that — you just said, trying to focus on the tension points on his leg — Now you can lie down straight, I need to work on your thigh.

Lowering his head again, Fernando let out a long sigh, his eyes fixed on the roof of the tent. However, if you expected him to remain silent after your denial, you were sadly mistaken.

— I think about it…

— About what you like?

— About what you like — the driver replied, emphasizing “you”.

The statement made you swallow hard, hands running up and down his lightly tanned skin. It wasn't like you tried to get Fernando's attention all the time, quite the opposite. You always thought you were invisible to his eyes, just a face among the entourage that accompanied him during his participation in that competition.

— I wonder if you like to take it slow or if you prefer to get straight to the point. If you like to dominate or if you prefer to be at the mercy of your partner. If you like being touched or prefer to just touch — Fernando said, his voice getting lower, almost hoarse, as he explored the possibilities — I think about your eyes rolling, your mouth open, the noise you would make if I were inside you.

— Fernando — you murmured in an almost reprimanding tone.

He suddenly sat on the massage table, his face close to yours.

— Tell me you don't think about that either. Tell me you don't think about me.

You blinked, cheeks growing hotter.

It was obvious that you thought about him. There wasn't a day that went by that you didn't think about the way he smiled, the way he ran his hand through his hair before putting the white cap with black and red details on his head. There wasn't a moment where you didn't fantasize about what it would be like to kiss him.

— I — you stammered, about to give the answer he wanted, when you realized a particularly important detail at that moment. The most important thing, actually — Linda.

Fernando blinked, looking confused.

— Linda? What about Linda?

— She's your girlfriend, you're not...

He snorted.

— She's in the past, Y/N.

— But, you…

— Just answer me, do you think about me?

The air escaped your lips shakily.

— Yes, I do. All day. All the time.

Your confession made Fernando smile, bringing his hand to your face. The look you exchanged for long seconds spoke more than any dialogue you could have had. There were no ethics classes or girlfriends that could stop what was about to happen inside that tent.

And it was to the sound of the artificial rustling of the tree leaves that you kissed Fernando.

His touch was gentle at first, as if the driver wanted to make sure you were on the same page, wanting this as much as he did. And, the moment he realized that you didn't move away from his touch, Fernando deepened the kiss, his tongue touching yours for the first time.

There was something different in the way he kissed you, a kind of thirst, as if you were an oasis in the middle of that desert. His hands held your face tightly, as if you were going to run away from his touch at any moment. As the sound of the birds was drowned out by your own pulse, you were sure you would never leave that place as long as you were there. And you made sure to make that clear by nibbling on his lower lip when Fernando pulled away slightly, completely panting.

Opening your eyes, you met his green-stained gaze. That made you feel the same heat as the first day, when you introduced yourself to him as the physiotherapist who would accompany him during the competition. There was an intensity that permeated it, a glow that you hadn't identified until that moment, but that became clear in a split second.

It was desire. It always had been.

— Fernando? — you heard someone say.

You didn't have time to say anything before he turned his face away, running a nervous hand through his hair. His gaze went to the entrance of the tent, his expression undeniably tense, as if he had done something he shouldn't have done.

And, in a way, he had. You both had.

Alberto's smile as he entered the tent made his stomach turn. Did he know what you had done? Did he imagine that his best friend had just kissed the physical therapist?

— Is there a problem, Galle? — Fernando asked, in a calm, almost natural tone — Y/N is finishing looking at my foot.

— The one that's clicking?

— Yeah, that one — you managed to say, your hands cold as ice.

— Injured?

— Not yet — the driver replied — Apparently it could evolve if I’m not careful. I'm going to see Edo to do some tests when I’m back.

— Well, if you say so — Alberto murmured — The mechanics were adjusting the axle and wanted to talk to you. Are you done there?

Exchanging a brief look, Fernando knew the answer almost immediately. You wouldn’t be able to touch him again, especially after that kiss.

— Yes, Y/N is done here — he said, while you nodded — Tell them I'm coming.

Alberto just said 'ok' before leaving the tent, leaving you two alone. Fernando's gaze on you seemed to burn into your skin, trying to read your body expression and, above all, your face.

— Y/N?

— Yeah, Fernando?

— See you later? — he asked, in a low voice.

— Later?

— In your motorhome. I think we can… Continue our conversation there.

An involuntary smile appeared on his lips.

— After dinner? — you questioned, as he got up from the table.

— Don't you want me to prepare my omelet for you? — he smiled, before putting on his flip flops.

— Definitely not — a laugh escaped his lips — It's disgusting.

— It was Edo who recommended it to me.

— Because he is crazy. You both are.

— Maybe we are — Fernando replied, walking towards the entrance of the tent — See you, Y/N.

— See you.

#fernando alonso #nordswrites #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #fernando alonso x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #formula one x you #fernando alonso x you

[nordschleifes]

charlie whitlam is starting to enjoy her work again. after a whole career built at mclaren, the engineer accepts a new challenge at aston martin, as a race engineer for sebastian vettel. everything seems perfect, until the german decides to retire and has his replacement announced: simply fernando alonso, her greatest nightmare.

charlie and fernando's story dates back to his second stint at mclaren, when a terrible car and rude comments by the driver during a debrief in montreal almost caused her to resign. however, eight years have passed since that day and she is determined not to let fernando enter her mind, which may be a more difficult task than she imagined.

➝ malamente

charlie is uneasy about the start of her second year with aston martin, as she has to deal with her new colleague, who is still the same asshole he’s always been.

➝ moscow mule

after two intense days, fernando decides to take his racing team to a tapas bar. charlie considers staying at the hotel, but something tells her that if she doesn’t go, she might seem unfriendly. little does she know that that night will show her a completely different side of fernando.

➝ igual que ayer

amr23 testing in bahrain does not go as planned as electronic and mechanical problems bring back ghosts from mclaren-honda days.

➝ algo me gusta de ti

after a choice that ends fernando’s chances of a better position for the race on sunday, charlie is confronted by the driver. however, the discussion ends in a way she didn’t expect.

➝ inevitable

trapped in imola after the torrential rains in the region, charlie and fernando are forced to cooperate with each other. however, what was supposed to be just one night in a tiny hotel in the city center becomes their moment of reckoning. and it only has one bed.

➝ tuya

charlie and fernando’s relationship evolves quickly over the months, transforming what was anger and resentment into something much sweeter and, in a way, complex. a good topic for a therapy session.

➝ el perdedor

when that fateful day in montreal is repeated in belgium, charlie is sure that the fairy tale with fernando has come to an end. she just didn’t expect that she hadn’t been the biggest loser that afternoon.

➝ una noche sin pensar

we all have a legacy. and charlie is sure that she is destined to keep fernando’s.

➝ mienteme

on the other side of the world, charlie comes to the conclusion that they have gone too far. and now, she wants to go back.

➝ dile a él

when charlie knocked on the door of her grandparents’ house, she expected a welcome (and a plate of roast), especially after what happened with fernando. however, she is faced with the reality of facing her own feelings about him and about herself.

➝ que me paso?

fernando is heartbroken. but the show must go on.

➝ noche fria

a bet puts charlie and fernando’s entire future at risk.

➝ juro que

love is always the best medicine, and charlie is willing to give fernando all the doses he needs to recover.

➝ promesa

charlie feels completely out of place in oviedo, following fernando’s first weeks of recovery. however, he makes sure she feels completely at home.

➝ epilogo

when the nature of their relationship is revealed to the world, fernando and charlie end up having a serious conversation about the direction they want to take.

#nordswrites #fernando alonso #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso x oc

[nordschleifes]

chapter one — malamente

➝ charlie is uneasy about the start of her second year with aston martin, as she has to deal with her new colleague, who is still the same asshole he's always been.

➝ word count: 5,2k

➝ warnings: fighting, mentions of sexism, fernando being a cunt (derrogatory)

➝ author's note: i've been working on this story since april and was a hell of a ride. hope you enjoy it!

Zipping her thick winter coat up to her neck, Charlie took one last look to make sure everything she needed for the day was in her backpack. After checking if the parking brake was on, she grabbed the black handle and got out of the car, taking a deep breath. The January sun shimmered shyly in the sky as she crossed the parking lot towards the factory's main building, the cold wind blowing ruffling her brown hair 

She’d been taking this same path to work for a year now, since she had left McLaren for Aston Martin. After nearly a decade in Woking, Charlie felt within herself that she needed a change of scenery. The year she had spent on Daniel Ricciardo's racing team, as well as the win at Monza, had made her realize that there was still a will to win within her, but that the place for it was no longer there.

Lawrence Stroll team's offer came as a pleasant surprise in the summer of 2021. With an eye-popping salary, good benefits and the prospect of working on a long-term project, Charlie jumped at the opportunity. However, the excitement of starting a new stage in her life didn't make saying goodbye to the team that had been her family for nine years any less melancholy.

The following year was just as Charlie imagined, full of the challenge of adapting to the new work environment and new colleagues. However, it was worth it for the opportunity to work with Sebastian Vettel, a four-time Formula 1 world champion.

There was something about their partnership that was different from her previous ones. Sebastian was kind and thoughtful. He didn’t mind spending long hours reviewing data and videos, as well as never failing to show his appreciation for her efforts. She would never forget the neatly packaged loaves of fresh bread and jars of honey from his home in Switzerland that he would give her. It was enough for Charlie to feel happy to be doing what she loved.

Well, until that fateful day in August.

She clearly recalled how her throat had started to tighten and her eyes had filled with tears when watching Sebastian’s retirement announcement. Charlie had barely had time to digest that news before she learned who would be the team's new driver the following year. And she was sure the universe was playing a silly trick on her.

Her new colleague was Fernando Alonso.

Again.

As she walked into the factory lobby, Charlie remembered how determined she'd been to quit her job and move to another city, county, or even country. She wanted to distance herself as much as possible from that man and anything that reminded her of him. However, she remembered something she had heard one Sunday in Canada, coming from someone who knew him well.

It was 2015. She was hiding between two motorhomes in the paddock at the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, finally allowing herself to cry after fighting the urge all day. Tears streamed down her cheeks as sobs made her chest ache. That had definitely been the worst day of her career.

— Charlie? — she heard a male voice to her right — Are you all right?

Wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of her white shirt and sniffling, she looked up to find Lewis Hamilton staring down at her. He was wearing a black baseball cap over the curls he'd been growing for a while, as well as a black team shirt and gray jeans, styled to look destroyed, both wet in spots where his Mercedes colleagues had probably sprayed him with champagne. However, his expression was far from being that of a happy person with the result of that day.

— It's okay, I'm fine, Lewis — Charlie replied, voice cracking — It's just been a… Rough day.

She hadn't lied. That Sunday had been one of the more complicated days she had had that year. The team had arrived confidently in Canada, especially due to the upgrade package brought by Honda for the MP4-30, that season’s car. Although it had raised some hope, it had been the main culprit for Charlie considering leaving her job as performance engineer

Already on Saturday, one of the cars had problems during the last practice session, diagnosed with a failure in the power unit. That meant it couldn't take part in qualifying, while the other car dragged itself down to 14th place, the average speed difference for the fastest cars being around 20 kilometers per hour on the straights.

However, Sunday was a true horror show. It took just four laps for the performance curves on Charlie’s screen to start showing a serious problem with the car's engine fuel consumption. Charlie discussed the data with Mike, the race engineer, and they both came to the conclusion that it was necessary to stop jostling for position in order to manage fuel consumption until she found a solution in engine modes.

Obviously, the suggestion was not well received by her driver.

— I saw that Fernando retired...

— Again — she murmured, wiping another tear that was on her cheek — The third race in a row, Lewis…

He frowned.

— Charlie...

— And that's not the worst of it, you know? The worst thing is hearing what I had to hear during the debrief — she said quietly, her voice cracking with the memory of the words Fernando had spat in the team’s control room.

After receiving Mike's direction, Fernando exploded on the radio. Stating that he had "bigger problems at the moment" and that he couldn't drive "looking like an amateur", he pretty much ignored their requests and continued the race at the same pace. Seeking a quick solution to the problem, Charlie soon found an engine mode that significantly reduced fuel consumption, which would allow him to at least finish the race. In theory, at least.

In practice, a problem with the car's exhaust caused him to retire from the race, but not without expressing his frustration and disappointment with both the car and the team over the radio. Taking the headphones off of her head, Charlie knew she had another difficult debrief ahead of her. She just didn't imagine it would be as difficult as it turned out to be. 

— During the debrief, Mike told Fernando that I had spotted the problem, and that slowing down the race pace was just a temporary solution until I found the ideal engine mode to get it back to a more aggressive position, but he wasn’t having it. He went on yelling about how it was a stupid suggestion, that he was fighting for positions and that "Charlie had to be an idiot to ask for something like that at that moment".

— And did you say something? — Lewis asked, crossing his arms.

— I said that, if he didn't follow Mike's directions, he would have retired on the 25th lap due to lack of fuel, according to the simulations. But he kept complaining, saying it was no use, because he ended up DNFing anyway, even though the problem they found in the car had nothing to do with the fuel — she said, taking a deep breath — So, he asked why I was "defending Charlie" and implied that "he wasn't man enough to defend himself".

The driver raised an eyebrow.

— He didn’t…

— Fernando didn't realize that I was Charlie. And his reaction — she said softly, her throat closing up again — Fuck…

Lewis took her hands as she tried to hold back her tears.

— What did he say?

— That me being Charlie “explained a lot”.

Lewis pursed his lips.

— My God…

— You know, Lewis, it's not easy being an engineer in general, but here, it’s — Charlie said, sniffling — And I don't mean the amount of work or traveling. It’s the loneliness. I'm almost always the only woman in the garage, and that comes with the need to feel like I have to prove myself every second, that I have to show everyone why I deserve my job. And then, a guy like Fernando comes along and just blames me for things that I can't control. The car is a shitbox! I didn’t design it, and there’s nothing I can do about the awful power unit!

She continued to sob as Lewis wrapped her in a hug. She felt a little awkward, being hugged by a former co-worker who also happened to be one of the sport's stars. At the same time, she felt like she needed to be able to be vulnerable for a few minutes. . Trying to be strong all the time was too exhausting.

A few seconds later, she pulled away from him, breathing deeply as she tried to calm down.

— Look, Charlie, if I can say one thing, it's that I understand you — the driver said, his brown eyes showing something of empathy for her — I also feel alone sometimes and, sometimes, that makes me want to work even harder to prove why I'm here. But, like me, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. You are a great engineer and, if I may say so, one of the people I most enjoyed working with.

— Fernando clearly doesn't think so — she replied.

— Well, you know why.

Charlie blinked.

— Why?

— Because Fernando is an asshole, Charlie.

She couldn't resist giggling.

— Didn't expect to hear you calling another driver an asshole.

— Well, Fernando is always going to be an exception, and you know why — Lewis replied, the corner of his lips curling. It was no secret that the relationship between him and Fernando was chaotic, the result of their internal disputes at McLaren in 2007 — But the secret here is to protect yourself against him.

— And how do I do that?

— Simple, just don't let him get inside your head, Charlie. Not doing what he wants you to do, which is to just throw your arms up and walk away. Only then, you will have a chance to win. And I bet you don't want to lose to him, do you?

— No, I don't — she replied, wiping her sleeves across her face again — And I won't.

The conversation with Lewis gave Charlie strength to resist Fernando’s efforts to get under her skin from then on. Contrary to what Fernando would have wanted, she did not quit or bow her head. She kept working hard, race after race, battling a stubborn car and an even more stubborn driver. She continued to hear unpleasant comments and annual requests from him for her to be replaced by another performance engineer. Thankfully or not, that request was never granted. 

The day he announced his retirement to the team, in 2018, was probably the happiest day of Charlie's life. As soon as she got home, she opened a bottle of wine, savoring it as she sat on the sofa, listening to her favorite playlist, humming along to a Joy Division song.

She would finally have peace.

And she did, until that cold January day.

“Don't let him get inside your head”, she repeated to herself as she walked up the stairs to the engineering office. Upon arriving at her cubicle, Charlie couldn't resist giving a little smile as she placed her backpack on top of her desk.

On the table, aside from the computer, was a pen holder with some pencils in it, as well as some green folders, a black leather journal and a pen on top of it, all with the famous Aston Martin wings stamped on them. On one wall of the cubicle, along with the race calendar of 2023, was a picture of her cat, an orange Maine Coon named Ron, as well as a childhood picture of her with her grandfather, Jamie, posing with a dismantled engine on the kitchen’s table.

He was responsible for her being inside that office, as he had taken her into his garage at home from an early age to assemble and disassemble engines and other components, explaining what each part did. It was her great fun during childhood and adolescence, the complexity of that world being much more attractive than the little houses and dolls. It was those afternoons with her grandfather that made her pursue a career in mechanical engineering, with his full support and encouragement. Charlie would be forever grateful to him for that.

She took off her coat and draped it over the back of her chair before sitting down, and turning on her computer. A few seconds later, the screen flashed with the image of the previous year's car, Sebastian's number 5 displayed prominently on the car’s nose. For a second, Charlie found herself wondering where Sebastian was at that moment. “He’s probably looking after his alpacas”, she thought, smiling as she picked up her mug — which had a doodle of an orange cat — and headed toward the coffee machine.

Halfway between the empty cubicles, movement coming from the hallway made her stop for a few seconds. All that commotion indicated that someone important had just arrived in the building, like a driver. But Lance, Lawrence's son, did not generate such a stir among the employees, despite having been in the sport for nearly ten years.

That could only mean that the new employee had arrived and everyone was gathering at reception to welcome him.

Pressing the ‘double Americano’ button, she chose to ignore what was happening. It didn't make any sense for her to join everyone else and participate in that sort of welcoming ceremony for someone who had already demonstrated that he didn't appreciate her work, despite the effort she'd put in over the four years he'd been at the team.

They were completely incompatible and nothing would change that. Nothing.

— Charlie? — a familiar voice asked behind her. Taking a deep breath, she turned around, finding Raúl, one of the performance engineers, smiling at her — We'll have Fernando at the front desk before our meeting. Are you coming?

She forced a smile as her stomach roiled with tension.

— Yeah, um — Charlie hesitated — No.

— Why not?

She blinked.

— I need to organize some things for our meeting. Some data from the new engine I got from Brixworth…

— It's just going to be an introductory meeting, Charlie, nothing is more...

— Look, Raúl, I really need to see this data — she interrupted him, trying not to show her annoyance with his insistence — You can go, I'll meet you in the conference room, okay?

The man just shrugged his shoulders before heading down the hall towards the stairs, following the stream of employees excited about the arrival of their new colleague. “Let's see how long this lasts”, she thought, as she returned to her own table, sipping her coffee.

After reviewing the documents sent by Mercedes HPP on the power units that would be supplied to the team that year and printing out the data obtained by the aerodynamics team during the sessions in the wind tunnel, Charlie gathered everything and headed to the meeting room, which was on the same floor.

She couldn't shake the tension in her shoulders as she entered the room. The place, which was not the most spacious due to the large table that was right in the center, was also full of people. Inside there were engineers and an aerodynamicist, as well as Tim, the chief performance engineer, and Lance, both of whom were talking to Ben, his race engineer.

Sitting down near one end of the table, Charlie set the papers with the data in front of her, trying to ignore the strange feeling building inside her chest. Then she noticed that there were two men with cameras in their hands talking to Joanne, who handled the team's marketing.

“Of course he brought the fucking Netflix crew to film this”, she thought, looking down at the pen in her hand, the silver wings glinting. If there was one thing Fernando loved more than making other people's lives hell, it was being in the spotlight. After the havoc he had caused the previous summer with his move to Aston Martin, it was clear that he would try to soak up as much attention as possible. That, in a way, made Charlie all the more uncomfortable.

All of a sudden, the conversations in the room dropped in volume, attention focused on the door. She didn't move, though, eyes fixed on the red line printed on the paper in front of her, breathing heavily. "Don't let him get inside your head", Charlie repeated mentally.

— Good morning, everyone — the familiar, heavily accented voice made her look up at him. Fernando hadn't changed much since the day he left McLaren for his sabbatical, as Charlie refused to call that period retirement. The shaggy brown hair and short beard were still there, except that there was a little gray in it. It was the clearest sign that he was no longer the same young man who had taken the Formula 1 world by storm twenty years ago.

After being greeted by those present, many of them smiling, Mike Krack, the head of the team spoke up. He had come in with Fernando, and called for everyone assembled to settle down at the table in order to start the meeting. The men with the cameras got ready to record the moment, one in each corner of the room, while Fernando made some comment to Lance as he sat down, making his new teammate chuckle. Lips pursed, Charlie looked down at the papers in front of her.

— Well, first of all, good morning everyone — Mike began. He sounded pleased. She didn't bother to look at him, the pen in her hand looking much more interesting — It's a pleasure to be reunited with you all again for another season. This time, with great news on our team.

Clicking her pen, Charlie began absentmindedly scribbling on the corner of one of the paper sheets.

— We said goodbye to Seb in Abu Dhabi, but we are very happy to welcome a new driver to our team, a true talent, Fernando — the team principal continued. Charlie continued scribbling on the paper, the lines taking shape — It's a joy to have you with us and we're sure we'll do a great job together.

— I'm absolutely sure of that, Mike — the driver replied, as the pen’s strokes on the paper grew heavier, the lines overlapping. Charlie's jaw was locked, breathing heavy.

— And, since everyone is here, I'm going to confirm the teams that will work with Fernando and Lance this year. On the pit wall there will be me, Dan, Tim and Peter, and, on Lance's side, we will keep Ben as race engineer and Luke as performance engineer.

Something churned in Charlie's stomach, the movement of her pen accelerating. If Ben was going to go with Lance, that could only mean that...

— Fernando will have Charlie as a race engineer and Raúl as a performance engineer — Mike said. Charlie’s head shot up, and her eyes met Fernando's. He was watching her with an air of curiosity and the smile of someone who had gotten what he wanted on his lips — We're also going to have a rotation of employees in the aerodynamics sector, with Mariano accompanying us in the first few sessions.

The team principal's words were lost amid Charlie's pulse as it roared in her ears. Something burned in her chest as she stared at Fernando, barely blinking, pen still against paper, words taking shape. She wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face, she wanted to get out everything she'd built up inside since that damned afternoon in Montreal.

— Any questions? — Mike asked, causing the driver to look at him. Silence reigned in the room, as apparently no one had any questions about the lineup of the race teams that season — Well, then, this meeting is done.

As soon as Mike finished speaking, Charlie's colleagues were already getting up and leaving the room, as well as Lance and Fernando, accompanied by Joanne and Mike. But Charlie sat there, frozen, trying to remember how to breathe. It was ridiculous to feel so affected by one person, but as Hannah, her therapist, had already said, this was her mind's way of responding to the trauma of those years working at McLaren.

Charlie knew it wasn’t insignificant when she looked down at the paper in front of her. In the corner, accompanied by doodles of lightning, sad faces and the number 14, was written “I didn't forget”. She knew she would never forget the stress, the tears, the futile effort she had made to save Fernando’s passage through the team, without success.

Charlie collected the paper she had brought to the meeting and resolutely left the meeting room. Walking with quick steps down the hall, she had only one goal in mind at the moment. She wouldn't suffer again, she wouldn't put up with his rude comments again. She was no longer that girl at the beginning of her career in Formula 1, scared by all the demands and problems. She had matured, grown up. She had learned to emotionally protect herself from inflated egos and frustration, she would protect herself now.

Knocking on the door with Mike Krack’s nameplate, she heard a sound that sounded like an invite to enter. When she opened the door, she found the team principal sitting in his chair, staring at his computer screen. Above him was an abstract-style painting of the team's car.

— Oh, Charlie, are you all right? — he said, with a smile on his face, while clicking on the mouse he had in his right hand — Is there a problem?

— Yes — she replied, dryly.

The man looked up at her, looking confused.

— And what would it be?

— Fernando.

He raised an eyebrow.

— What?

— Look, Mike, I'm going to be honest with you — Charlie said, placing the papers on his desk — I don't want to work with him.

— But why? You have already worked together...

— That’s precisely the reason, Mike.

Mike shifted in his chair.

— Charlie...

— Do you know how many hours of therapy I needed to recover after working at McLaren with him? I assure you, it was a lot. And it was all because of him, and I’m not going to throw the progress I’ve made in the bin.

— I can talk to him, Charlie — he said in a measured voice — We can work to understand the problem and make sure it doesn't happen again.

She snorted.

— Do you think he listens to anyone? Honestly?

— Charlie, I understand that your relationship may have been tumultuous in the past, but everyone who has worked with Fernando says that he is very relaxed and open to feedback. Even Karel, his last race engineer, said that he never worked with such a polite, detailed driver…

— And you know why he would say that, don't you?

— What? — Mike returned the question, confused.

— You know why all these guys say he's funny, polite, and helpful, don't you? — she said, placing her palms on the pale wood and leaning across the desk.

— Um… No?

— Well, I do. Want to guess why he is so nice to them? Hint, it's between my legs.

Mike blinked.

— Are you telling me he's sexist? — he asked seriously.

Charlie thought about saying yes, but something inside her stopped her. The pain of that afternoon in Montreal seemed to come crashing back inside her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, as well as the lump tightening in her throat.

— You’ve met him, haven’t you? — she replied.

— Charlie, I'm sorry, but he seems to be very polite and respectful with all the women around him.

She huffed in frustration. She couldn't talk about what happened in Montreal. Not again. 

— Mike, please — Charlie said, trying to keep his voice steady — Can't you just take me off his team? Put me in another position, maybe with Lance?

— Unfortunately, I can't do that.

— Why?

— It’s a contract issue. 

She blinked.

— Contract? My contract? I don't remember there being any clause saying that I would have to work with an asshole.

— His contract, Charlie.

— But…

— One of the clauses he insisted on was that he would have complete freedom to choose his racing team. Lawrence accepted, after all, we have great engineers within the team and we would have no problem hiring someone from another team or category if that were the case.

Charlie sat there in silence, her eyes locked on Mike’s, breathing heavily.

— So, after everything was settled, the very next day he asked for the list of engineers to choose his team. Five minutes after I sent it, I got an email with the names he wanted, yours was the first on the list.

— You mean that…

— It was Fernando who chose to work with you, not me or Lawrence. Although I would have made the same choice, but that's not the point.

— Unbelievable — Charlie muttered.

— I actually think it makes sense since you guys know each other and, like it or not, you're one of the few people who can say you've worked with four different world champions in your career, plus… How many grand prix winners? Five, six? You know what it takes to win, Charlie, and he wants to win.

— Look, Mike, I don’t — Charlie started to say, until she was interrupted by a knock on the door, which the team principal responded with an invitation to enter. As she rose from the table, she felt a shiver run across her skin as she realized who was coming through the door. “This has to be a nightmare”, she thought, trying to focus on her breathing.

— Mike, I wanted to talk to you about — Fernando began, stopping when he met Charlie's stern gaze — Oh, I didn't know you were busy…

— No problem, we were actually just talking about you — Mike replied, causing Charlie to turn to face him, outrage written on her face.

— And what were you saying about me? — he asked, approaching the desk slowly.

— I don't want to work with you — Charlie snapped, looking up at him defiantly.

— Why not, Charlie? — Fernando said, his accent evident in the syllables of her nickname. Something about the way he said her name made her immediately angry, the urge to punch him in the face growing by the second — I thought you would be happy to work with a world champion again.

She snorted.

— Your age is really showing. 

— What do you mean by that?

— I don’t know if you remember, but I was working with Sebastian Vettel last year. You must remember him, since he made you regret going to Italy in 2010 — Charlie said, venom oozing from her words — By the way, Mike, I didn't know Aston Martin had turned into a nursing home.

— Charlie, please — Mike said, his voice soft, as if he was trying to soothe Charlie’s temper. Clearly he hadn't expected to deal with this on his new driver's first day on the job, but Charlie couldn’t help herself. She wanted to return every nasty comment he’d never made and then some.

— No, Mike, it's okay — Fernando said, placing a hand on the table, the shadow of a smile on his face — I'm used to her adorable sense of humor. And if I may say so, I can't wait to see it on race weekends.

— Only in your dreams — she answered through her teeth, before looking at Mike again — I won't work with him, I refuse to work with him.

— Charlie, you are in no position to refuse to work with Fernando...

— Then I’ll quit — she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air — I’ll get my things from my desk, go to HR, and get out of here!

— Someone's making a mountain out of a molehill, as usual — Fernando, his voice arrogant, condescending. Something about his words caused Charlie’s anger to boil over, a response leaving her mouth before her brain gave the command.

— Fuck you, you fucking asshole! — Charlie yelled — You can't follow a fucking order to keep you in a race without complaining, and you still talk to me like I don’t know anything! You don't know how to respect anyone's work! You're a fucking asshole with no sense of reality!

— Do you have any idea what it's like to be in a car? Do you know how hard it is? — he returned, raising his voice — You talk too much for someone who doesn't understand what it's like to be a racing driver, Charlotte.

Hearing him use her full name brought a painful memory to her mind. Taking two steps forward, Charlie lifted her face to his, feeling her eyes sting as something caught in her throat.

— Don't you ever dare call me Charlotte again! — she yelled, her finger in his face.

— And don't you ever lift your fucking finger at me again!

— Enough! — Mike yelled, slamming his hands on the table — You two shut up!

Charlie turned to face the team principal. She was a bit scared. She'd never seen him angry, or even yelling, in the entire time he'd been at the head of the team. Maybe that was a sign that they had gone too far.

— First, no one is going to quit. Fernando is our driver and Charlie is our race engineer, no discussion — Mike continued talking, staring at them over the dark frame of his glasses — Second, you are going to work together and not just because of the contract, but because I want you to.

— But Mike — she tried to argue.

— I don't care if Fernando was rude or if Charlie sabotaged that damn Honda engine herself, that's all in the past! You are no longer at McLaren, or in Woking. You're at Aston Martin, in Silverstone, and only adults work here, so act like it.

— Mike, I — Fernando tried to say.

— I'm still talking — he cut him off, a serious expression on his face — Lastly, I want you to have the maturity to look at each other and apologize for this ridiculous scene you've played here.

Charlie looked back at Fernando, realizing how close she was to him at that moment. She was so close that she could see details that had gone unnoticed before. From that position, she could see the green blending into the brown of his eyes as well as the fine lines that framed them, as well as a small scar in the corner of his upper lip, which was well disguised by the beard, flecked with gray.

— I’m sorry, Charlie — he finally said, making her blink back into that room. Suddenly, she felt her cheeks heat up, her heart pounding in her chest.

— It's your turn, Charlie — Mike said as she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the roaring pulse in her ears.

— I'm sorry — she managed to say in a thin voice. Fernando's expression seemed to soften at her words.

— Great — Mike said, sitting back in his chair — I hope you guys keep it that way, civil and respectful. You are both dismissed.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked towards the door.

— Charlie — Fernando said from behind her.

— Yes? — she asked, looking over her shoulder.

— You forgot this — he said, holding up the sheets of paper she'd brought with her.

— I printed it out for you — Charlie muttered as she opened the door. However, before leaving, she was surprised by his response.

— Oh, well, okay. Thank you.

#fa #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #nordswrites #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc

[nordschleifes]

extra — la chica perfecta

➝ sometimes, you just need a shower and some japanese food to understand the obvious things

➝ word count: 2,7k

➝ warnings: smut

➝ author's note: this one shot takes place in monaco, the events of which are mentioned in chapter 6. i wrote it as a way to warm you up for the second part of the story and to close some points that i was feeling weren't clear. hope you like it.

They were sitting in complete silence.

The only sound that could be heard in the bathroom were her clothes sliding across her skin, landing in a pile on the tile floor.

Fernando felt his chest getting warmer. It was a strange feeling, but oddly familiar at the same time. It was something he hadn’t felt in a while, and it made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. 

— Are you just going to stand there? — Charlie asked, bringing him back to the present. She was looking at him skeptically, with her hands on her hips. Her expression contrasted sharply with the fact that she was standing in front of him, mostly naked. 

Fernando shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, looking down at his feet as he started feeling sheepish.

— Well, you put on such an interesting show — Fernando replied, leaning back against the wall. Charlie rolled her eyes.

— Idiot — she muttered, reaching behind her back to unclasp the lavender bra she was wearing. She slid the straps down her arms, and the bra fell to the floor, along with the rest of her clothing. Then, she swept her hair back away from her face to secure it into a bun, securing the dark strands together with an elastic that she had been wearing on her wrist.

— You still do that the same way — the driver said, his voice quiet.

Charlie's eyes met his.

— What are you talking about?

— Your hair. You still tie it in the same way you did when you were at McLaren.

She blinked. She looked a bit disconcerted.

— How do you know that?

— I like to think that I have good observational skills.

— So you use them to notice how I tie back my hair? 

Fernando smiled.

— Yes. You put it all together, twist it and turn it clockwise before putting the elastic around it. 

The bathroom was silent again. With his eyes fixed on hers, the Fernando noticed the strange heat spreading across his chest again. How had he managed to ignore it for so long?

— You're weird — she said, after a few moments.

— As I said, I have good observational skills.

— You should use them to observe things thst are more interesting than the way I tie back my hair. 

— Like the way you drink your coffee? — he asked.

— Do you know how I drink my coffee?

— No milk or sugar — Fernando said — You once said that you liked it as “black and bitter like my soul”, which I thought was quite clever.

Charlie smiled, a little embarrassed.

— Well, it's true.

— I don’t think so.

— No?

— You're not bitter — Fernando  replied — In fact, you’re sweeter than I imagined.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before he smiled. It was enough to make Charlie shake her head.

— You really are an idiot — she muttered, turning to step into the shower stall. She turned on the water without saying another word. 

Fernando took a few seconds to start undressing, while the room filled with hot steam. After placing his clothes in the laundry basket and his watch on the edge sink, he stepped in behind Charlie, who was staring intently at the temperature markings above the tap, standing against the wall to avoid the stream of water coming out of the showerhead.

— What’s wrong?

— I'm trying not to turn into soup here — she grumbled.

— It would be a very tasty soup, I assure you — Fernando said, which made Charlie snort — Okay, let me help you.

After teaching her how to adjust the temperature of the water, they spent a long time under the hot spray, busying themselves with removing the remains of travel and party from their skin. As he rubbed the soap over Charlie's back, Fernando couldn't help but remember the first time he saw her.

He was nervous, more than he should have been that morning, even though he knew what was coming. It was another press conference, no different from the hundreds he had already taken part in. Maybe it was his mother's accusatory voice in his head, telling her he had to be crazy to believe in Ron Dennis again, especially after everything that had happened during the 2007 season, when he last drove for McLaren.

— And these are our performance engineers, all graduated from the best universities in Europe — he remembered hearing someone say — I’d like to introduce you to John, Anthony, Adam and Charlotte.

Fernando extended his hand first to her, and she shook it firmly. Charlotte had bleached blonde hair and blue eyes, so blue they reminded him of the summer sky in Oviedo. There seemed to be a hint of a blush in her cheeks, which made him wonder if she was as nervous as he was at that moment.

— You're quiet — Charlie murmured, bringing Fernando out of his thoughts again, his hand resting on her shoulder.

— Any problem with that? — he questioned, making her turn to him.

— Your silence almost always means you're thinking, and that's a problem.

— Is thinking a problem?

— If the person thinking is you, yes.

He raised an eyebrow.

— Why?

— Because that means you're planning something devious.

Fernando let out a laugh.

— Is that really what you think of me, nena?

— Well, you're still the bad guy, aren't you? — Charlie asked, an edge to her voice that filled his stomach with butterflies.

— Yes, I'm still the bad guy — he said, bringing his hand toher cheek — But that doesn't mean I'm always planning devious things.

— Does that mean you have room in your head for other things? — she asked, with an almost malicious smile.

— I always do.

Charlie got closer to him and wrapped her arms around Fernando's neck. With her breasts pressed against his chest, he could feel the heat her wet skin emanated. He could feel her nipples grazing his skin. However, contrary to what he expected, the anxiety that had consumed him until he set foot in his apartment had dissipated. There was no longer that almost primal need to be close to Charlie consuming him.

All he felt was… peace.

— What were you thinking, bad guy?

— I was thinking about you.

She clicked her tongue, looking dissatisfied.

— And your dick isn't hard?

— Maybe I was thinking of more innocent things, Charlie.

— Like what?

— Like the day we met. Do you remember?

Charlie gave a playful little smile.

— It's hard to forget the day I first met the biggest asshole I’d ever know.

— Oh, come on, you met Ron Dennis before me, no? — Fernando, his voice teasing, causing Charlie to shake her head in disapproval — If you must know, I didn't think you were an asshole that day.

— No?

— No. In fact, meeting a female engineer was hard to forget, at that point.

Her smile faded, almost as if the driver had touched on something that made her sad or uncomfortable. “Me and my big mouth”, he thought to himself, as he tried to formulate something to make the sentence more pleasant.

— And then you used it against me — Charlie muttered before he had a chance to say anything. 

After she talked about that fateful afternoon in 2015 during a debrief, he couldn't get the story out of his head. Fernando was so upset about the whole car situation that he hadn't even realized that the blonde, blue-eyed woman was the one named Charlie who was mentioned every time performance was discussed. And, in a moment of irritation, he said the worst thing he could say to her, as if those words could transform that car into something remotely drivable.

— Because I'm an ungrateful asshole —Fernando said quietly — And I apologize for that.

Charlie blinked, almost as if he couldn't believe what he had heard.

— Are you…

— Regretful? Yes — he replied — Ashamed of how I acted? Wanting to go back in time and punch myself in the face? Yes, but that's beside the point.

The end of his sentence caused the shadow of a smile to appear on Charlie’s face.

— I was blind with anger, with frustration, especially after so many years trying for a third title with Ferrari and failing — Fernando continued. Now that he’d started, he found his words coming out like the water of the shower running behind Charlie — I simply didn't see the effort you were putting in, or how willing you were to help me. I was just an asshole when, in reality, I should have been thanking you for still having hope in that shitty car.

— I was very naive…

— No, Charlie. You were the person I needed to listen to, and not the others who wanted us to carry on like we were until the end of the season and pray for the next year to be better. I should have been more involved, tried to help fix things with you — he said. After a few seconds of silence, he let out a long sigh, lowering his head — Forgive me for everything, nena. Forgive me.

Charlie's hands slid from the back of Fernando's head towards his cheeks. Then, she lifted his face, her blue eyes filled with something warm and familiar.

— I forgive you, Fer — she whispered, before bringing her lips to his, kissing him delicately. The sensation caused a wave of heat to fill his chest as his fingers tightened around her waist. A few seconds later, Charlie rested his forehead against his — I forgive you for everything.

— Even for asking them to fire you?

— Even that, as stupid as it was.

They kissed some more, eventually finishing their shower and getting out. Fernando suggested they order something to eat, which Charlie agreed to. They exchanged a few kisses as they dried off and got dressed before getting comfortable in the living room. The hours passed by peacefully, the two of them talking and enjoying the sushi that Fernando had ordered as they were sitting on the living room floor.

— Nena, can I ask you a question? — He said, after taking a sip of the water.

— You just did — Charlie said, giving a small smile. When she saw him roll his eyes, she laughed — Ask, then.

— Did you receive any other job offers when you were at McLaren?

Charlie pursed her lips, thinking for a few seconds.

— Yes — she finally spoke — After Monza, I received an offer from Alpine.

— But you refused it, didn't you?

— I did.

— Was it because of me? — the driver asked, almost certain of what the answer would be.

— Yeah. Let's just say I wasn't ready to deal with you again...

Fernando let out a sigh. Maybe it was the right thing to say at that moment.

— I was the one who asked them to make the offer.

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

— You…

— After the race in Monza, I saw Daniel hugging you on the pit lane and handing you the trophy. And it was like it clicked something in my head, you know? If I wanted to win, I needed someone to help me do it, and you were that someone.

— And you thought I was going to change teams for you? — Charlie asked, looking skeptical.

— Well, I thought you wouldn't refuse an offer if the money was good…

— Their offer was only 10% higher, which wasn’t worth having to work with you — she murmured — So I saw no reason to take it.

— I figured. So much so that I asked them to improve the offer, to ask what you wanted and give everything. But, when they finally sent another proposal, you had decided to go to Aston instead.

Charlie giggled..

— Did you really want to work with me?

— Yes, nena. So much so that the first thing I did after I saw Sebastian's video  on Instagram was call Lawrence and tell him I was available.

Seeing Charlie's eyebrows rise, Fernando smiled.

— So quickly?

— I couldn't pass up the chance to work with you again. It would probably be my last and — he hesitated, looking at the glass of water — I wanted to do things the right way this time.

She sat up slightly, sitting closer to him. Their close proximity made Fernando's belly fill with butterflies. How could something as simple as sitting next to Charlie have that effect on him? How could that woman make him feel like a teenager at that age?

— I think you're doing well — she said softly.

— Well, I still haven’t gotten another win — Fernando began, being interrupted by a chuckle from Charlie — What?

— I'm not talking about your results.

It took him a few seconds to realize what the engineer was actually referring to.

— Ah, well — Fernando stuttered, feeling his face heat up — Do you think so?

— I do, Fer — she replied, bringing her hand to his face — You're doing very well.

Kissing Charlie felt inevitable for Fernando. It also felt inevitable to take her to his room and undress her, like a child opening a gift on the Dia de Reyes. However, more inevitable than all that was feeling his heart leaping inside his chest when he penetrated her for the first time that night.

There was something intoxicating about her, something he couldn't understand or explain. It was something in the way she gave herself to him, her eyes half-open and her breathing heavy as Fernando caressed every inch of her skin. It was something about the way she gasped and sighed as he moved slowly, her hands squeezing his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. It was something about the way her cheeks turned completely red as a louder moan escaped her lips.

— Sorry — Charlie whispered as soon as Fernando suddenly stopped moving.

— For what? — he said through gritted teeth, trying to focus on her words and not on the way she pulsed around him.

— I didn't mean to be so loud — she said with one hand over her mouth, a guilty look on her face.

— No, it's okay — Fernando said, removing her hand from her face and taking it to the mattress — Actually, you have no idea how much I like to hear you moaning, nena...

Something about the words made her eyes darken with desire.

— I like listening to you too — Charlie murmured, as Fernando slowly moved again, biting his lower lip. And, almost immediately, he gave her what she had asked for.

The room was filled with the sounds that escaped their lips. Each of Charlie’s moans was matched by one of his, louder, almost as if they were in a competition. However, unlike all other disputes, Fernando never wanted to lose as much as he did at that moment. After all, losing meant seeing Charlie completely given over to pleasure, her mouth open in a perfect circle as her muscles trembled.

— Harder, Fer — she moaned, pressing her heels against the base of his spine, as if she wanted him to go deeper. And he knew he was capable of anything to dive into Charlotte and give her what she wanted — Touch my clit, I need more...

With his fingers massaging the spot just above where his cock was, Fernando realized how different sex with Charlie was to his previous partners. With other women, he felt as if he had no other concerns other than satisfying himself, but it wasn’t the case with Charlie. He wanted to please her at all costs, even if, in the end, he didn't reach orgasm, something almost unthinkable months before.

“What the hell did this woman do to me?” Fernando thought to himself, while his thumb drew circles over her clitoris. 

— Fer, I'm coming — she whimpered, her eyes closed tightly — Please, please, don't stop, please…

A split second later, Charlie reached her climax. As her pussy contracted with pleasure, Fernando quickened his own pace, moans escaping his lips as her nails dug into his skin, protesting the overstimulation.

When the driver came in the condom, he was sure that everything made sense, in a way it had never before. As he moaned Charlie’s name, Fernando simply became aware of the obvious.

He was in love with her. And it wasn't just because of the incredible sex they just had.

He was in love with the way she understood him without them saying anything. He was in love with her curiosity, even if it lacked the innocence her eyes seemed to convey. He was in love with the sparkle in her eyes, with her confidence, with the tired but completely satisfied smile that was on her face at that moment, as he pulled out of her and collapsed onto the mattress.

It was indisputable.

Charlotte Whitlam was the perfect woman.

#fernando alonso #nordswrites #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #fernando alonso x oc #formula one fic #formula one x oc #formula one fanfic #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc

[nordschleifes]

chapter thirteen — promesa

➝ charlie feels completely out of place in oviedo, following fernando's first weeks of recovery. however, he makes sure she feels completely at home.

➝ word count: 4,1k

➝ warnings: mentions of smut, insecurity, fernando being absolute down for his girl

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie, @he-is-the-destined, @sunnytkm23 and @enaticosencantados as requested.

After closing the door to the dryer, Charlie pressed the buttons to start the cycle and glanced out of the laundry room window. The distant lights of Oviedo contrasted with the sky whose orange from sunset was replaced by the black of night. The low sound of the crickets overlapped the noise of the cars passing by on the nearby highway, in a scenario that could be described as the most absolute peace.

However, peace wasn’t what she felt at that moment. 

Charlie sighed as she leaned against the wall. There didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day, even though she was technically on her winter holidays. “And to think that I thought this would be a peaceful trip to Spain,” she thought, running a hand over her face.

Staying with Fernando in Oviedo seemed like it should have been a peaceful retreat on its surface, removed from the hectic circus of travel, races, and lots of people, but chaos followed them all the way back to Fernando’s house. There wasn't a day when the driver didn't have someone over to visit, either for a quick chat or to spend the entire day with him. 

On the first day, they had Fernando's parents over, along with Lorena, Edo and Fernando's nieces, Maria and Bianca. Some of his old schoolmates came over the day after. On the third day, the staff from his museum came over, as well as some Kimoa employees. Over the weekend, some of Fernando’s friends from his karting days came over, then Alberto and Luis. 

The visits and attention made Fernando happy, and Charlie was happy that he had so many people that loved him enough to come and visit, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit out of place. For one thing, Fernando introduced her to everyone as his girlfriend — even without actually asking for it to be official, which was unforgivable, according to Fernando’s niece Maria — and everyone treated her with kindness and respect, she was still a stranger to them and that was evident by the way they looked at her.

The language barrier was another frustration. Some of them spoke English, albeit with a strong accent, but Fernando was by far the most fluent of any of them, which added to Charlie’s anxiety.

When they spoke in such rapid Spanish together, Charlie figured they weren’t talking about her, but as she walked around the house wearing some of Fernando’s t-shirts with yoga pants, her hair up in a bun with her bangs messier, she couldn’t help but wonder if they were talking about how Fernando could do better or how she was a slob. She could have worn nicer clothing or put on some makeup before they had guests over, but it wasn’t her priority when she was doing so much to keep Fernando comfortable and help him with his recovery.

He was her priority.

— Nena? — Charlie heard Fernando calling from the living room, bringing her back to the present. She took one last look out of the window before she took a deep breath and went to see what Fernando needed. The last time she was out here, Fernando was talking to Alberto and Chiara, Kimoa’s head of production. They seemed to have left, and Fernando was on his feet already, leaning on his crutches.

— Hi, did you need something?

— Can you help me up the stairs? — Fernando asked with a smile.

— Yeah, I can, but wouldn't you rather eat something first?

— No need, I'll come down later if I need to — he said, as he went to the stairs. Charlie didn't question him. After all, after a full day of visitors and a painful physiotherapy session, he must have been tired. He definitely needed the rest.

Charlie helped Fernando up to the second floor and followed after him slowly as he walked into the bedroom, the sound of his crutches echoing through the hallway. Then, she helped Fernando into bed, making sure he was comfortable with the way he was propped up, with his injured leg elevated. She turned to go back downstairs, but he stopped her. 

— Charlie — he murmured, causing her to look back — Please stay.

She smiled softly.

— I want to, but I have to finish doing the laundry.

— You can do that later.

— My darling, I'm already wearing your clothes because I don’t have anything clean anymore — Charlie argued, approaching the bed. Looking at what she was wearing, Fernando smiled broadly.

— I think you look pretty wearing my clothes — he said — Of course, you look best when you’re wearing nothing…

Charlie felt her cheeks heat up.

— You know I can't just walk around naked in front of everyone.

— I know, that’s for my eyes only.

Giving her a smile, she leaned over him and pecked him on the lips before making another attempt to leave the room. However, Fernando held her hand firmly.

 — Stay, nena — Fernando purred — The laundry can wait.

— And you can’t?

— Not when it feels like I've spent a lifetime away from you.

Charlie smiled, giving in to the request. Rounding the bed, she settled down next to him, feeling Fernando's arm pull her into a hug, her head resting just above his heart. The soft sound made her close her eyes momentarily, just to savor that moment of silence and peace, feeling his fingers glide over the fabric of the T-shirt she was wearing.

There were moments when Charlie found it hard to believe that the driver was alive, and in her arms. After the crash, she started having nightmares about it, but they tended to end more tragically than the reality. Last night, she remembered standing in front of his closed casket, draped in the Asturian flag, clutching a single rose in her hand, the thorns cutting into her palm and making blood drip down the stem. Everyone was saying goodbye to him, but she couldn’t. “He's still here”, she thought, gripping the rose, ignoring the blood flowing from her palm.

— I missed you — Fernando said softly, breaking the silence between them.

— We haven't been apart since you came out of surgery.

— But it seems like I'm always far away from you...

— I know, it’s like you've been more in demand than the King of England these last few days — Charlie muttered. Her tone made Fernando shift suddenly, their eyes meeting.

— Are you sad?

The question surprised her, in a way. As much as Charlie tried hard to appear relaxed and happy, she realized at that moment that she felt profoundly alone in Fernando’s house. It wasn't Fernando's fault, after all, he had almost died and what he wanted most was to have the people he loved close by as he recovered from his accident. However, the feeling of being an intruder there was overwhelming, not to mention suffocating.

— Me? — Charlie stammered — Well, I mean, uh, not exactly…

Fernando sighed.

— Charlie, I want you to tell me the truth — he said seriously — You just seem down. Did someone say something to you? Was it one of my colleagues from Kimoa? Or was it my mother? I know she's a little too direct sometimes...

— No, nobody said anything to me — she replied, looking away — Actually, I think that's precisely the problem.

His hand slid to her face, causing Charlie to look back at Fernando’s eyes.

— What do you mean?

— I'm feeling out of place, Fer. I'm feeling like a stranger here, with your family, with your friends. They talk to you in Spanish, they laugh and I don't know what the joke is — Charlie said, feeling embarrassed — Sometimes I think I'm the joke…

— But… Why would you be the joke?

— Because I’m, well... You bring some girl home with you after your accident to these people you’ve known most of your life. I feel like an idiot wearing your clothes, not wearing any makeup, just having my hair up in a bun, making it look like I’m not putting in nearly the amount of effort I should be into being a good partner and a good hostess. So it feels like I’m a stranger, and that I'm a joke.

Fernando kept looking at her, his expression serious.

— You're not a joke, Charlie.

— But…

— First of all, if anyone laughed at you, I would tell them to leave immediately — he said, stroking her face — Secondly, how many times do I have to tell you that you look great in my clothes? I wish you could wear nothing but my clothes for the rest of your life.

— I can't show up to the factory in your overalls, you know that, right?

— I wouldn't mind — Fernando laughed — And lastly, I couldn't be happier and more grateful to have you by my side. This house would be a complete disaster if you weren’t here.

— I'm just doing the basics...

— And that's enough to make me happy. The happiest man in the world, actually — he murmured, before bringing his hand to the back of Charlie's neck and leading her to a slow and peaceful kiss, his fingers caressing her skin lightly.

— I love you — Charlie whispered, her lips brushing his, carrying the promise of more kisses filled with the love that made her chest warm.

— I love you too, nena — Fernando answered softly.

Kissing him again, she felt the driver's touch on her skin like a match that scratched the surface and ignited a hot, powerful flame.

Charlie wanted to burn in Fernando's hands.

Carefully, she slipped a leg over his hips, settling herself over the driver's body. Bringing her hands up to his face, Charlie continued kissing him, feeling his fingers caress the skin of her back, underneath the t-shirt she was wearing.

That instant made Charlie realize how long she had gone without having sex with Fernando. The night in Suzuka was the last time the two of them had allowed themselves such an intimate moment, lulled by the taste of champagne and the afternoon's victory. At that moment, that night seemed like a lifetime ago. And, feeling something tingle under her navel, Charlie was willing to make up for lost time.

— I missed you, you know that? — she murmured. Fernando took one of his hands to her face, allowing her to savor the touch of his palm against her skin, her heart filling with the warmth that only love was capable of providing.

— I missed you too, my love — he replied, before pulling the fabric of the shirt she was wearing, exposing her breasts. Biting her bottom lip, Charlie brought Fernando's hands to her chest, closing her eyes to enjoy that deliciously intimate touch.

With the driver's thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples, a shiver of excitement ran through her body. Her hips moved unconsciously, seeking some stimulus, without success. So, she decided to lead one of Fernando's hands down, implying for him to put his fingers inside her shorts and touch her the way she wanted.

However, instead of a lust-filled comment or the shift of hips that she knew so well, Fernando let out a hiss of pain.

— Fer? — she asked, opening her eyes suddenly — Are you okay? Did I hurt you?

He gave a pained little smile.

— Yeah, no, it’s just — the driver stopped, closing his eyes tightly — My head started to throb. I don't think I can keep going...

Sweeping a hand across his forehead to brush his hair back, Charlie pressed her lips together. She'd been naive enough to think they'd be able to have sex a little over a week after the accident, especially considering the doctor's recommendation to avoid activities that would take a lot of effort on his part because of the concussion.

Rolling off Fernando, Charlie sat on the bed and grabbed the T-shirt she'd discarded on the mattress, pulling it on while she thought about what he could take to ease the pain.

— I’m sorry, nena — she heard him mumble beside her. Turning her face, she raised an eyebrow.

— For what?

— For this.

Charlie chuckled.

— Are you apologizing for not feeling up to having sex with me?

— Yeah.

— You know you don't need to, right?

— But, we've been away from each other for so long and now that we're together, I just can't give you what you want.

Taking his hand, Charlie smiled.

— You talk like I'm with you for your performance in bed and not for who you are — she said.

— I doubt my performance isn't a determining factor — he murmured, eyes squeezed shut as his other hand massaged one of his temples.

— Relevant, not determinant. I can survive without having sex with you.

— No, you couldn't.

— I did, for two months.

The driver smirked.

— I doubt you didn't moan my name on those nights away from me.

Her cheeks flushed, and Charlie felt like an open book in Fernando's hands, who read the pages like no one else. Of course she fantasized about him while they were apart, more times than she could count, wanting her own fingers to become his to reach the spot only he could find inside her.

— So what if I did?

— It just proves that you want me and that I failed you today.

Sliding across the mattress, Charlie sat closer to him, still holding his hand.

— You are recovering from a serious accident, my love. You've suffered a concussion and a fracture and need some time to recover. And it's okay. It's not like you have — she said, looking at the bulge in his pants — Erectile dysfunction or anything like that.

He followed Charlie's gaze before huffing in frustration.

— I hate this — the driver muttered.

— I don’t like it either, but what matters to me is that you’re alive and that you’re recovering  — she replied, giving a little smile — And I'll take care of you every day ‘till you are fully recovered.

They exchanged a long look, which spoke far more than anything they said. But then, a low rumble made Charlie giggle.

— And that means feeding you when your stomach starts to growl — she added.

Fernando brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on Charlie's fingers.

— Thank you, mi amor — he said softly.

Charlie went downstairs, already feeling a bit better as she thought about what was in the fridge that she could make for dinner. On her first day in Oviedo, Lorena had taken her shopping and helped her prepare a few meals in advance. It was one of her more useful race season habits that helped her eat regular home-cooked meals instead of relying on Deliveroo while she was at home and didn’t feel like spending all of her time cooking.

Dinner came together quickly, since Charlie imagined that Fernando needed something comforting and she had a beef stew ready, which she liked to eat with dumplings. It was one of her favorite meals, as her grandmother used to make it when she was sad or frustrated about something when she was little. The flavor of the spices together with the softness of the dumplings made all the problems disappear from Charlie's day.

And, in a way, from Fernando’s too.

— This is delicious, nena — he said, still with his mouth full, after a few spoonfuls — Where did you learn to cook this?

— My grandmother taught me — Charlie replied, putting the spoon down on the plate with a smile — Great for those typically English rainy and cold days.

— It would have been great to know that when I was living there — Fernando muttered, taking a bite of a dumpling.

— You just had to date a good English girl instead of spending years going out with those skinny women — she replied, with a teasing little smile on her face — Although, maybe, they were skinny because you don't know how to cook anything.

He feigned outrage, dropping his spoon onto his plate.

— What? I’m a great cook!

— Your tuna omelette is proof that you are not, my love.

— When I'm recovered, I'll show you how good I cook — Fernando replied, before leaning over to poke Charlie in the ribs, tickling her — And I want to see you say they didn't eat because of me.

— Let's see, Captain Canned Tuna — she said, causing him to laugh out loud, the sound filling her with something warm and familiar.

 “This is love”, she concluded, as she picked up the spoon again to finish eating.

The next few days were filled with a strange, almost unnerving calm. There were no friends or relatives of Fernando wanting to see him, just Edo coming by to do his physical therapy. It didn't take long for Charlie to discover that he had told everyone that he wouldn’t be taking any more visitors so he could focus on a complicated recovery process. The decision seemed radical to her, but in a way, Charlie was relieved that she didn't have to play hostess any more.

However, the biggest surprise came early one afternoon, when Fernando appeared in the living room for the first time wearing something other than pajamas.

— Are you going out? — Charlie asked, placing her phone on her lap.

— We are.

— And where are we going?

— You'll see, now go get dressed.

As she drove, following Fernando's instructions, she couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety. At all times, she was looking for some sign of where he was taking her. Until, when going through an entrance, an orange sign revealed where they were.

— Are you taking me to your museum? — she questioned him.

— Surprise — the driver said, smiling.

When Fernando said he had a museum and a circuit, on the way to Milan airport, Charlie had something else in mind, something like a shed or even one of the hangars she had visited as a child with her grandfather. However, what was there was a building with elegant lines, with his signature reproduced in giant form on the facade. As she parked in one of the spaces near the entrance, Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't dating a normal man.

“I'm dating a national hero”, she thought to herself, as the two approached the reception desk, which was just inside the entrance.

— ¡Fernando! — the woman who was sitting behind the counter said, jumping up — ¡Que bueno verte!

— Buenos días, Isabel, me alegro de verte también.

— Te hemos estado extrañando por aquí, especialmente considerando lo mucho que te gusta pasar tus vacaciones aquí — she said

— Teniendo en cuenta que no son exactamente unas vacaciones, ¿verdad? — he replied, chuckling.

— Es una especie de vacaciones, no lo podemos negar. Por cierto, veo que has traído una visitante...

— Oh, sí, esta es Charlie — Fernando said, turning to her — This is Isabel, she's in charge of welcoming everyone here at the museum.

— It's a pleasure, Charlie — the woman said in heavily accented English.

— The pleasure is mine.

— Did you do what I asked? — he asked.

— Yes, we've closed both the museum and the circuit to you — Isabel replied, causing her to look at the driver a little shocked.

— Excellent — he said, before heading toward the entrance to the exhibit — Come with me, Charlie.

Walking behind him, she waited until they were far enough away before putting a hand on the driver's arm to stop him in the middle of the hall.

— Did you close the museum for us?

— Yes.

— Fernando — she said, in a scolding tone.

— The museum is mine, Charlie. And if I want to close it to show you everything, I'll close it, simple as that.

She didn't have time to answer him before he continued down the hall, crutches clicking on the floor. As she walked behind him, Charlie couldn't stop thinking about how insane the idea of closing the museum to them had been. However, when she finally had a good counter argument for him, Fernando stopped in the doorway of the great hall that housed the main collection.

And for a few seconds Charlie was out of breath.

They were the most different cars, from the different categories he had competed in. There were Toyotas, Ferraris, Renaults and McLarens, plus a multitude of trophies and helmets. Little pieces of an entire career, carefully placed there for admiration. However, Charlie's eyes were not on the objects, but on the man beside her. He was the one who deserved her admiration.

— Amazing — she babbled.

— What? — Fernando asked.

— You. You're amazing, Fer.

— And I thought you were talking about the cars — he chuckled as Charlie moved closer, her fingertips on his cheeks.

— They are incredible, but you are more — she murmured, before placing a delicate kiss on his lips — Much more, my love.

The next hour was dedicated to exploring every corner of the museum, with Fernando telling the stories behind each of the trophies on display, as well as the cars, letting her get into the Hilux he had used during the Dakar and the Toyota LMP2 car in which he had conquered Le Mans. After discussing technical aspects, they were passing the wall of helmets when the driver stopped in front of one of them, the only one whose visor was facing the wall, highlighting the back.

— Is there a problem, my dear?

— No, it's just — Fernando nodded — This is the helmet I made for the race in Suzuka.

Charlie looked at the piece in silence. In a shade of light blue, the design that surrounded the helmet was that of a garden in a style called ukiyo-e. In the back, she knew there was a samurai under a cherry tree, deep in meditation. She'd liked the helmet since the first time she'd seen it, as much as she liked the traditional version better.

— I ordered the design from Horiyasu, a very famous tattoo artist in Japan — Fernando continued — I always really liked his work, but I never had time to tattoo something with him, which is a shame. But the point is that I managed to convince him to make an art for the helmet and he drew the samurai sitting in the garden. But there's one thing I've never told anyone here.

— That is?

— This is not the original helmet.

Charlie blinked.

— No? But…

— It's one of the spares I had. The one I wore in the race is in Lugano.

— Why didn't you bring it here?

— Because it's yours — the driver said.

— Mine?

— It was always yours.

— Fer — she stammered.

— Didn't you notice the pattern of the hakama he's wearing?

Charlie looked at the helmet again, trying to unravel what was drawn. Bringing her face close to the glass, it took her a few seconds to make out what was drawn against the dark green background of the traditional shirt the samurai wore.

— Are these flowers?

— Roses. English roses, Charlie.

Her heart leapt in her chest. Looking at Fernando, she felt her eyes sting with tears.

— You didn't have to…

— Why not? — he asked, balancing on one of the crutches to bring a hand to her face — You are the most amazing person I've ever met, Charlotte. You are the light and color of my days, the person who keeps my feet on the ground and makes me float. My partner. My girlfriend.

— You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, you know — Charlie smiled.

— It wasn’t enough for Maria to complain about it? — Fernando said, a laugh in his voice.

— She has an important point, my love.

— Do you want me to ask you, officially?

— I do.

He smiled, taking one of her hands.

— Well, Charlotte Elise…

— It's Elaine — she corrected him, laughing.

— You couldn’t have a normal middle name?

— Elaine is normal. By the way, it was my grandmother that chose it.

— Okay, moving on — Fernando said — Charlotte Elaine, do you want to be my girlfriend?

Charlie smiled.

— Of course I do— she replied in a choked voice, before giving the driver a tight hug — It's what I want most in this life, Fernando… um… What is it?

He laughed.

— I don't have a middle name.

— No? So it's just Fernando Alonso?

— Fernando Alonso Díaz. Alonso from my father and Díaz from my mother.

— That’s lame — Charlie muttered.

— I’d rather have two last names than a complicated middle name.

— Elaine isn't complicated — she snapped.

— Charlotte Elaine is complicated.

— It could be worse, my mom wanted it to be Irulan because of a movie she watched when she was pregnant, but my grandparents convinced me that Elaine was less weird.

— Charlotte Irulan Whitlam sounds excellent to me — Fernando said, seeming to stifle a laugh. She slapped his arm playfully.

— You really are a dickhead — Charlie said, before hugging him again.

#fa #fernando alonso #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso x oc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one fic #formula one x oc #formula one fanfic #formula 1 x oc #f1 x oc #nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

chapter twelve — juro que

➝ love is always the best medicine, and charlie is willing to give fernando all the doses he needs to recover.

➝ word count: 5,9k

➝ warnings: hallucinations, hospital, puppets and ron dennis (not in that order)

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie, @he-is-the-destined, @sunnytkm23 and @enaticosencantados as requested.

The lights obscured Fernando's vision, the loud sound of people applauding making him feel dizzy as he tried to make out his surroundings. The place reminded him of a familiar television studio he had been to a few weeks earlier to promote the race in Las Vegas. What was he doing there again?

“Wait a second… Why am I in Madrid? Shouldn't I be in the United States?”, he thought.

— We're back with Fernando Alonso, two-time Formula 1 world champion and Aston Martin driver — he heard a familiar voice say. He turned his head to the right and managed to focus his vision on the face of Pablo Motos, the host of the television show he had just made an appearance on. Only this time, he had a dark green headset on his head.

He raised an eyebrow, confused. Why was he wearing one of the headphones from the Aston garage? Even more perplexing, why was he speaking in English? Fernando thought about prodding him to ask him when he had learned English in the first place, because he knew Pablo didn’t speak the language that well. As he reached out to tap Pablo on the shoulder to ask, he felt a twinge of pain in his hand, as if something had pierced the skin. 

— Fernando, the last time you were here, we already talked about the season and adapting to a new team, but we need to talk about this — Pablo said, pointing to the screen on the right side of the stage. The images projected on it made Fernando’s stomach twist. 

It was a picture of the moment he met Charlie in the Aston Martin garage after his victory in Montreal. From the moment Fernando had crossed the finish line, all he could think about was sharing it with her. After all, she was responsible for their victory that day. She’d made that joy possible. Charlie believed in him and urged him on, even when he thought he’d never be able to catch Max, and their efforts had paid off.

However, Fernando remembered how he felt at the moment in the picture. Their hug carried so much more than the joy of victory. It was that moment, when Charlie was in his arms, laughing and wiping away her tears, that Fernando realized that he loved her.

— Yeah, that’s me and my race engineer...

— You two are very good friends, aren't you? — the host asked, a mischievous smile on his face.

— Yeah, Charlie is a good friend of mine — Fernando answered, trying to ignore the feeling that he had already answered that question before. “People ask about her all the time, this is normal”, he thought to himself, squirming uncomfortably in the chair he was sitting on — She's always by my side, she's my eyes outside the car, so to speak.

— Well, I know of two… I think calling them people would be a stretch, but they’re both very interested in discussing this with you — Pablo said, before turning to the audience, giving them a very rehearsed-looking smile — Everyone, please give a round of applause for Trancas and Barrancas!

In front of him, two light purple puppets with bulging eyes and yellow teeth rose from a cut-out space of Pablo’s desk. For some reason, Fernando never realized how comical they looked, intended to be a cartoonish impression of what an ant looked like. They normally had some sort of prop or costume, but this time, Fernando was shocked when they each were wearing brown wigs with long hair and wispy bangs, with dark green headsets on their heads to match Pablo’s. One of them — Barrancas, the one with the unibrow and buck teeth — had his hair down, while the other puppet, Trancas, who had a vacant expression and a singular, off-center tooth, had his wig styled in a messy bun. 

They were dressed as Charlie.

— Good evening! Good evening! — Trancas said, turning to the audience and nodding, his pupils rattling humorously around the plastic domes that formed the puppet’s eyes. They were also speaking English, which gave Fernando even more of an uneasy feeling.

— Good evening, Fernando — Barrancas said, his bangs falling awkwardly over his monobrow.

— Good evening — he murmured, confused. Things were starting to feel distinctly odd — Why are you wearing those outfits?

— We decided to wear these things to make you more comfortable, and because it seems to be in style now — Barrancas said, shaking his head and ruffling his hair.

— And because you like Charlie…

— Shut up, Trancas — the puppet scolded, before turning to Fernando again — So, taking advantage of your being here, we decided to submit you to a test that you’ve done before, but this time, we have a bigger, better, more accurate version, to see if you remain sincere in your answers or if you are…

— Easily swayed by a pretty woman — the other puppet said, turning toward the audience as they broke out into cheers and whistles.

— What do you think, Fernando?

He didn't have time to respond before the puppets cheered and the crew came onto the stage with the equipment for the game, as loud music and applause filled the studio. Before he knew it, Fernando was strapped to the chair he’d been sitting on, with sensors strapped to his chest, arms, and legs. The one on his right leg had been cinched a bit too tight, causing his ankle to hurt.

— Are you ready? — Barrancas asked, not waiting for a response from Fernando before continuing — Let’s get started!

More applause. More of the suspenseful soundtrack in the background. More lights. More pain.

— Fernando Alonso, if that's really your name — Trancas began, his antennae and pupils shaking — Tell us, honestly and don't lie… Do you like Charlie Whitlam?

Fernando blinked. “What kind of question is that?”, he wondered.

— Yes, I do.

One of the lights that had been placed on the table came on, and the public reaction was completely negative, as well as the sound that went off in the studio.

He was lying.

— I can't believe it, Fer — someone said beside him. When he turned his face, the pilot realized that it was no longer Pablo Motos who was there, but Alberto, wearing a blue sweatshirt and his arms crossed on the table — Are you lying to the whole world straight away?

— What are you doing here, Galle?

— That doesn't matter, now answer the question.

— But…

— Mr. Fernando Alonso — Trancas said, his voice high and shrill — Do you like Charlie Whitlam?

— No? — he replied in a low voice, without any certainty.

Green light. “But how?”, the driver thought.

— Well, you don't like her — Barrancas said, ruffling his dark hair — So does that mean you love her?

Fernando swallowed hard.

That word seemed small compared to what he felt for Charlie.

After Andrea broke up with him, Fernando simply stopped thinking about trying to maintain a romantic relationship. Quite apart from the strain of a life of travel and constant and total focus on the races he needed to do, there was the whole issue related to his desire to maintain his own privacy while being around people who were clearly too delighted or scared with the fame and the spotlight to continue with the relationship.

In the end, love became a futile effort, a waste of time and energy he preferred to save for his professional life. Until Charlie sat next to him on the tires during pre-season testing.

She was an interesting enigma for Fernando. She'd had a completely different upbringing than he had, but with the same result. She had been fascinated by cars since she was a little girl and enjoyed karting as much as he did. She understood the world of Formula 1 as much as he did. Rather, she loved that world.

Falling in love with Charlie was easy. When Fernando realized it, he had a sinking heart, holding her while she had a panic attack due to the storm. He, who never minded the rain, came to dread it every time he was next to her. He couldn't bear to see Charlie shaken like that again, completely torn to pieces in front of him.

She deserved to be happy, a wide smile lighting up her expression, her eyes narrowed under the bangs that made her completely unique in his eyes. Charlie deserved it and Fernando was willing to give it to her, whether it was on the track or when they were alone in their little bubble. He would give her the whole world, even if it meant his ruin.

— Yes. I love Charlie.

The green light flickered in front of him, causing him to let out a sigh of relief. He knew he was speaking the truth, but there was a certain tension in having his own words called into question.

— Do you want to date her? — Trancas asked.

— Well, we kind of date…

Red light. Siren. Lie.

— Have you asked Charlie to be your girlfriend yet? — Barrancas questioned.

— No, but… Do I need to?

— C’mon, Fernando! — someone shouted from the audience. Turning to face forward, the driver found Lance on his feet, looking completely outraged by his answer — Of course you do! You told me that yourself, that you needed to talk to her...

— The problem is, when I thought about doing that, she just ran out of my room in her underwear…

A wave of gasps rose from the audience as a horn blared through the studio. Looking at the other people, Fernando realized that he was facing people he knew. Lewis, Flavio, Giancarlo, Jarno, as well as Raquel and Dasha, were all there, protesting his words.

— Hey, hey, hey, hold on, champ! — one of the puppets interrupted him suddenly — This is a family show, no details like that…

— But I didn’t say anything…

— Doesn't matter, we can only talk about stuff like that after ten, okay? — the ant said.

— Mr. Alonso, answer us with complete sincerity — Barrancas began — And without lying, eh? Are you willing to someday marry Charlie Whitlam?

The question made his heart sink inside his chest. He had fantasized about his wedding a few times when he was young, especially when he was engaged to Raquel. However, after his divorce, it became just another beautiful experience of life that had come to an end. Fernando had even thought about getting married again, first with Lara and then with Linda, but nothing very concrete.

Then he saw Charlie in that white jumpsuit at the boutique in Lugano, looking into his eyes through the reflection of the mirror. His mind drew the scenario almost automatically. White lace, hair up, a shy smile on her face and white English roses in her hand.

— No. I will marry her.

Green light. Truth.

— Interesting — a deep voice replied, the British accent rising. Looking to the side again, Fernando found that Alberto was no longer there, but Ron Dennis. Wearing a suit and tie, the man was smiling at him in a rather sadistic way as he stroked a very familiar orange cat — And do you think she wants to marry you?

— Yes.

Red light. Lie.

— Oops — Trancas said, laughing — I think you're wrong.

— Charlotte is an amazing woman, Fernando — Ron said, running a hand over the fur of the cat he was holding — She deserves the best there is in this world.

— I know, and I'm the best for her.

Red light. Lie. Looking at the device placed on the table, right in front of him, the driver was completely shocked.

— Even you don't believe that, Fernando — Ron said, chuckling.

— I do believe it, she is the woman of my life! — he exclaimed — I don't even know what you're doing here, you have nothing to do with it.

— Of course I do, who brought you back to McLaren in 2015? — the man asked — You would never have met Charlotte if it weren't for me. I even think you owe me a thank you.

— First, it's Charlie, she doesn't like being called Charlotte. Second, I won't thank you, those years at McLaren only hurt everyone!

Green light. True.

— I call her whatever I want, I know what's best for her.

— No, you do not know. Charlie is not a child. She knows what's best for herself. And I'm only going to believe that she wants nothing to do with me anymore when she tells me so.

Ron pressed his thin lips together.

— And while she doesn't speak?

— I'll keep imagining our lives, our wedding, even our children.

— Do you want children? — Trancas asked. Looking at the puppet, he couldn't help but smile.

— I do. And Charlie will be their mother.

There weren't any horns or lights going on. Suddenly, there was nothing else holding Fernando to the bench, not even Trancas and Barrancas in the space in the middle of the table. There was no audience, no soundtrack. There was just him and Ron Dennis, holding Charlie's cat in his lap and scratching its pointy ears.

— I think your time here is up — the man said, getting up from the bench.

— My time? — Fernando asked.

— They are waiting for you — Ron replied, placing the cat in his arms.

— They? Who are you talking about?

— Your exit is through that door — Dennis said, pointing to a corner of the studio behind him — And don't forget to give him back to his owner.

It was time for Fernando to turn his head to find the door for his former team boss to disappear. He was alone, holding the feline Ron in his arms, completely confused. Looking at the cat, the driver was in doubt for a few seconds before heading towards the door, feeling some irritating pain in his right foot.

When he opened the door, the light overshadowed his vision for a few seconds. Blinking his eyes hard and passing his free hand over his face, it took Fernando a few seconds to realize where he was. The well-wooded lane, with benches positioned just ahead of him, gave him a good lead. However, it was a man passing by wearing a familiar shirt that confirmed his suspicions.

He was in Oviedo.

Walking through the park, Fernando had no idea what to do. Should he try to go home? But if he was downtown, he would need to take a cab to Cayes, where his parents' house was. “Do I even have any money for a cab?”, he asked himself, looking for a place to stop and look for some money inside his jeans.

Then, he heard a familiar laugh.

It was a laugh he loved.

Turning back, he saw a group sitting under some shade. The older couple were holding each other, watching a little girl tell something, gesturing with her hands. Beside them, another couple with two teenage girls were listening intently to the smaller one, as was the other woman, who had a bulging belly.

It was his parents.

Lorena and Edo. Maria and Bianca.

Charlie.

— The duck said ‘quack’ and went back to the lake with the piece of banana I gave him — the little girl exclaimed — Did it like it, mamá?

— I'm sure, my dear — Charlie replied, running a hand through the girl's dark hair before she turned away. The strong chin, sweet smile and blue eyes was what he needed to be sure, eyes filling with tears.

He was looking at his daughter.

— Come on, Bia — the girl said, the wind swaying her green dress — Let's play ball!

His niece smiled as she got up and ran after her cousin, who was holding a white soccer ball. Watching the two play, Charlie rubbed her belly, probably thinking about what it would be like when their other child arrived. Walking slowly towards them, Fernando couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was.

That was his family, his life. He had parents, a sister, a brother-in-law and two nieces that he loved unconditionally. He had a partner he was completely in love with and two kids with her. Two pieces of his own heart out of his chest, the two greatest treasures he could have in life.

— Papá! — the little girl exclaimed, with a wide smile, waving at him as she guided the ball towards him.

— Mi cielo — he replied, as he followed, the pain in his arm from holding Ron growing stronger.

— Look, papá, I know how to do just like Vini!

— Yes, mi cielo...

— Get the ball, papá — the girl said, kicking the ball hard.

As the ball hit Fernando squarely in the face, his vision went white.

Charlie was tired. Tired of crying, tired of walking the hospital corridors, tired of sitting there, staring at Fernando, completely inert, while the machine above him beeped rhythmically, indicating that his heart was still beating. It was a sign that he was still with her, just not in the way she wanted.

She, along with Luis, Edo and Alberto, were informed early on Sunday morning that Fernando's injuries were not life-threatening, and that he should make a full recovery. The news was met with sighs of relief and thanks to God in whispered Spanish. However, that didn't mean he was out of the woods, quite the contrary. In addition to the ankle fracture that required surgery to stabilize, Fernando had suffered a grade-three concussion, which meant the end of the season for him and, in a way, for Charlie as well.

— He's going to be very upset — Luis muttered, putting one hand in his pocket, something everyone there agreed on. Fernando hated missing a free practice, much less a race. Breaking the news to him would be difficult, but that was a matter to be discussed with him awake.

That is, when he woke up.

After Fernando had surgery and was transferred to a room, his doctors expected him to wake up after the anesthesia wore off, but that did not happen. A neurologist brought in for a consult examined Fernando and determined that he was experiencing an expected reaction from his body, considering that he had already had other concussions of varying grades. A neurological exam with an EEG showed that his brain activity was normal, and he was just in what was functionally a very deep sleep, but that didn't make the wait any easier.

Looking at the hands on the wall clock only made Charlie feel more anxious. The feeling of helplessness in the face of the situation was overwhelming inside her chest and there was nothing she could do but take quick naps and sip cups of coffee that seemed completely tasteless.

Luis, Edo, and Alberto offered to take turns, to allow everyone a few hours off from keeping vigil at Fernando’s bedside, but Charlie declined. Something inside her told her that she would feel better if she went to the hotel to take a shower, eat a real meal and sleep in an actual bed, but doing so would mean leaving the man she loved alone. What if he woke up and she wasn’t there? She wasn't capable of that, not when she'd made that mistake before.

He needed her and Charlie was determined to stay there as long as she had to, even if she had to fight her own body. But with the arrival of another night, she was starting to lose the fight. With her head resting against her hand and her eyes closed, she was dozing lightly, the sound of the equipment monitoring Fernando's vital signs lulling her into a light sleep.

— Charlie? — a whisper made her shift in her chair. It was definitely some sort of auditory hallucination, she thought, because of how tired she was.

However, hearing the whisper a second time, Charlie was sure someone was calling her. Opening her eyes, she found Fernando with his eyes half closed, watching her. Running a hand over her face, she couldn't believe it.

— Fer — Charlie replied, jumping to her feet, her eyes filling with tears — It's me, I'm here.

— Where am I? — he asked.

— You're in the hospital — she said, wiping a hand over the tear that had trickled down her cheek. Charlie couldn't believe he was finally awake.

— In Vegas?

— Yes, we're still in Las Vegas.

He lifted his hand slowly towards hers, which was resting on the cold bed rail. Feeling his fingers land over hers, Charlie let go of the plastic and took his hand.

— What happened? Did I crash?

— Yes. You touched Pierre at the second chicane and flipped your car on the first lap.

He looked away, trying to move his body. After confirming that the hands and arms were fine, he tried moving his feet, first the left and then the right. Realizing he couldn't move his right foot, he lifted the blanket, staring at the soft cast that immobilized part of his leg.

— You've broken your ankle, they had to do surgery — Charlie said — The accelerator pedal broke in the crash, all of the force must have gone into your foot, so they have it immobilized. Oh, and you had a concussion too, but no other serious head injuries. I mean, aside from the fact you’ve been unconscious for two days, but… 

— Two days? — he asked, looking shocked.

— Yes, two days. It's Monday evening.

He pressed his lips together, staring at the logo on her clothing. Looking down, Charlie felt a little self-conscious about wearing the same uniform since Saturday night, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered when he was there, in front of her, alive.

— Didn't you go back to the hotel?

— No. I've been here since Saturday night. I arrived a little after you, actually.

— Charlie...

— I couldn't go back, Fer — she whispered, her thumb stroking his skin — I couldn't leave you here alone.

— But what about Alberto? And Edo, and Luis? Did they go home?

— No, the three of them are at the hotel, waiting for you to wake up to come see you. They’ve been in and out, they all left a little while ago…

Fernando was silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on their intertwined hands.

— Why did you stay?

— Because you needed me...

— Charlie — he said, cutting her off — Tell me the truth.

— But — she stammered, her heart pounding in her chest.

— I opened my heart to you and you ran away from me — Fernando snapped, dryly — Now you're here, by my side, holding my hand...

— Do you want me to let go of your hand?

— I want you to be honest with me.

Charlie felt a lump rise in her throat. Why did it have to be so difficult?

— Fer...

He looked up at her seriously.

— If, after everything we've been through together, you can't tell me how you feel, I think you better let go of my hand and leave.

— I wouldn't go even if you wanted me to.

— Yes, you would.

— Of course not — Charlie snapped.

— Why not? You did before…

— Because I love you! — she exclaimed. The volume of her voice made Fernando flinch, before Charlie remembered what the doctor had said about concussions causing visual and auditory sensitivity. Then she continued in a lower voice — I love you, Fer.

Fernando stared at her, seeming to process the words.

— I just didn't tell you before because I — Charlie hesitated for a few seconds — I was scared. I thought what we had was something casual, but I only told myself that because I was so afraid of how deep my feelings for you had gotten, and when you told me you loved me, I panicked. You had finally given the right name to the crushing feeling I feel in my chest every time I'm with you. It is not joy, it is not peace, it is not passion. It's love. It's simply love. And even still, it scares me.

Looking down at their hands, more tears filled her eyes.

— Does love scare you? — he asked.

— My love for you scares me. In fact, all the feelings you can provoke in me scare me. You've already made me feel so much that I didn't allow myself before — she stopped for a few seconds — My life is intertwined with yours in a way that I can't explain. And it's this lack of an explanation for my logical brain that makes it all scary.

— Love doesn't have to be logical — Fernando murmured.

— I found that out sitting in that armchair, waiting for you to wake up. It makes no sense for me to love someone I hated so deeply, but at the same time, it makes the most complete sense when you are the person who understands me, even though I am the mess of a person I am. What I feel for you is love. It has no logic or limit. And I just hope you accept mine the same way I accept yours.

He let go of her hand suddenly, which made Charlie's stomach sink. After some silence, she decided that was her last shot with him.

— I don’t know if you remember but in Montreal, in 2015, I ran out of the motorhome after the debrief and hid between the paddock buildings to cry — she whispered — I was mad at you, so mad. And Lewis just happened to find me there, sobbing. We talked about what happened and he gave me some valuable advice that day.

— What did he say? 

— He told me not to let you into my head — she replied, seeing his pursed lips — But today, I realized he didn't say anything about my heart. And you entered mine.

Fernando gave a small smile.

— He's an asshole.

— He said the same about you.

— Oh, he did? Good to know…

The two looked at each other for a few seconds in silence.

— Well… — Charlie said.

— What?

— It’s just as simple as that, I suppose, that I love you, and that I hope you still love me, too — she whispered.

— I never stopped loving you, Charlotte — Fernando replied, placing his hand on her face — Not even for a second. And you don't have to be afraid of anything. I will take care of your heart with all the love it deserves.

With her chest filling with warm sensation, Charlie leaned over the bed rail, placing a soft, tear-tasting kiss on his lips. The relief of having him alive and well mingled with the happiness of loving and being loved despite being far from perfect. She was finally safe.

After a few more delicate kisses and Fernando asking other questions about the race, Charlie took it upon herself to call the doctor who was taking care of him to take a look at him. Then, she called Edo, letting him know that his brother-in-law was conscious and oriented, news that he received with great joy.

— I'll let everyone around here know he's awake — he said — His mother will be so relieved, Lore told me she wasn't sleeping well with worry.

— I can imagine — Charlie replied, watching Fernando as a nurse took his blood pressure.

— Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can come over and sit with Fer so you can rest.

Charlie bit her lip. She was completely exhausted, but she didn't want to leave Fernando behind. It wasn't as if he wasn't getting the best treatment, much less that he was incapacitated in any way, but she took it as an obligation. However, the last thing Charlie wanted was to suffocate Fernando, even more so in this situation.

— I'll talk to him and let you know, okay?

— Yeah, no problem — he said — Give him a hug from me and tell him I'll see him tomorrow morning at the latest.

After hanging up the phone, Charlie approached the bed again. Looking at her, Fernando had a small smile on his lips.

— Edo?

— Yeah. He said he's coming to see you tomorrow morning.

— Is he coming with you when you come back?

She blinked.

— Well, I thought I'd stay here one more night.

— Why?

— So I can take care of you.

The driver laughed.

— Charlie, I'm in a hospital. There's no shortage of people here to take care of me.

— But they're not me.

— True, they aren’t, but — he said, bringing a hand to her face — But it's no use trying to take care of me if you're not taking care of yourself.

— I'm fine — Charlie snapped — I can stay awake a lot longer. In fact, I had many nights like this in university.

— You were 20 years old then, you could get away with it — Fernando said, his thumb stroking her cheek — Now, you need to listen to your body and rest. I’ll be fine, I promise.

His concern made something warm inside her chest. "Love, this is love", Charlie thought to herself, smiling.

— Okay, I'm going to the hotel — she relented — But I'll be back tomorrow morning, very early, okay, my love?

Fernando smiled.

— Perfect, mi amor.

After a few goodbye kisses and a good-natured joke about how handsome he looked with a fuller beard, Charlie finally left his room, making her way to the hospital lobby practically floating. It was as if she were in a romance book, in which the protagonists were finally living their “happily ever after”.

Well, until she looked outside the hospital.

In front of the building, what seemed to be more than a dozen cameras were pointed at the entrance door, along with a good number of journalists and photographers. It was clear that there would be people there, waiting for anyone who could give more information about Fernando. And, considering she was in the team uniform, she was the perfect person for it.

— Miss, do you need help? — a man wearing a white coat and surgical scrubs asked. She explained the situation, and the man took her to an exit leading to the staff parking lot, which was free of reporters. 

“An angel”, Charlie thought, as she made her way back to The Signature in an Uber, ducking slightly so reporters wouldn't see her leaving the building. The entire drive there was a big blur, as was the arrival at the suite. After taking a shower and calling in-room dining service to order something to eat, she allowed herself a moment of contemplation, looking up at the ceiling.

Fernando was fine, he was alive. And most of all, he still loved her. He had never stopped loving her, not for a second, not even when she feared her own feelings for him. And being loved by that man was a sublime feeling, better than anything Charlie had ever felt in her life.

There was so much more than just sexual chemistry between the two, but something much stronger and deeper. What they had was something that even the word she was most afraid to use to describe it — love — seemed inadequate. Fernando didn't complete her, because Charlie was sure she was a complete person without him, but he complemented her. He brought out the best in her and that was...

— Fuck, Charlie — she muttered to herself, wiping the tears that had trickled from her eyes. However, unlike the last few days, these were tears of joy.

She was happy.

Finally happy.

The next morning, Charlie was back at the hospital, feeling much better than she had the day before. “He was right”, she thought, as she walked past the reporters in silence, lowering her Brighton cap a bit. After checking in at the reception desk and getting a visitor’s badge, she went up to Fernando's room, wondering if he’d gotten some more sleep, if he was awake, if he’d been able to eat, and if he was in any pain.

Knocking softly on the door of room 249, the answer came in his expression, which looked much more rested. Not only that, he looked happy.

— Good morning, everyone — Charlie said, greeting Edo, Luis and Alberto who had arrived there earlier, before approaching the bed slowly — Good morning, Fer.

— Good morning, nena — he replied, stretching out his hand toward her — Did you get some rest?

— Yes — she said, giving his hand a light squeeze before releasing it. The reaction made the driver raise an eyebrow at her — What?

— Aren’t you forgetting something?

She looked down at herself, trying to imagine what she could have left at the hotel that she hadn't noticed, but Fernando had.

— No, I have everything here.

— What about my kiss? — he asked, giving her the puppy-eyed look that made her give in to his every request, even the most absurd of them.

— Fer — Charlie said through clenched teeth, feeling her cheeks heat up.

— Come on, it's not like they don't know we've been together for over six months — Fernando said, looking at the three men beside him.

— You haven’t exactly been discreet — Alberto said, crossing his arms, with Luis nodding beside him.

— Especially with the hickeys — Edo added, smirking — You've already done quite a bit of damage to his neck, Charlie.

Charlie felt a little embarrassed about that. As much as she wanted to be discreet, it was hard not to want to kiss and bite the skin on Fernando's neck. When she saw it, there was already a purple mark nestled in the space between the muscle and his collarbone. Luckily they were always hidden under the green shirts and racing overalls.

— So where's my kiss?

— It's here — Charlie relented, giving him a delicate peck — How was your night?

— Good. I ate, slept, and talked to the doctor. He updated me on everything that happened to me and recovery times. He said that the average is eight weeks, but I think Edo and I will be able to reduce it to six.

— Fernando, you can't control the speed at which your bones heal — she said seriously.

— But I can and will help them along. Edo and I will talk to Lore tomorrow, when I'm home, to see what supplementation I can take...

— Home? Are you going to be discharged?

— Yes, the doctor said he's releasing me tonight — Fernando replied.

— And are you going to Lugano?

— No, Oviedo. My mother is going to break my other ankle if I don't go home for a bit after this one. Besides, it'll be nice to be around my family for a few weeks, I haven't seen them all together since Barcelona, so...

Charlie smiled, running an affectionate hand through his hair.

— Love is always the best medicine, my grandmother always says — she said, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

— So can I get the jet ready for the five of us, Fer? — Alberto asked.

— Five? — Charlie asked, looking at him and then at Fernando.

— Yes. We’re all going to Oviedo — the driver replied, stroking her hand.

— But, am I going with you?

— Of course, Charlie — he said, before he saw the doubt in her eyes — Well, if you want to.

She pressed her lips together, feeling a little confused. Although she wanted to stay with Fernando and support him through his recovery, Charlie felt like she was going too fast and too far. Being at his house was one thing, but being with his family was something else entirely. It was like taking a step bigger than her leg.

— It's like your grandmother says, love is the best medicine — Fernando said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the fingers, eyes fixed on her — And I'm going to need some doses of yours, mi cielo.

“How am I supposed to say no?”, she thought to herself.

— Okay, my love. I'll go with you.

#fa #fernando alonso #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso x oc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #formula one x oc #f1 x oc #nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

chapter nine — mienteme

➝ on the other side of the world, charlie comes to the conclusion that they have gone too far. and now, she wants to go back.

➝ word count: 4k

➝ warnings: smut, angst

➝ author's note: having a existential crisis over this story, so, be kind to it. tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

There was no visibility from the onboard, so the televised broadcast and the on-screen data were the only ways Charlie had to know of what was happening on the track. The rain that had been falling at Suzuka had lessened dramatically, but the asphalt was still extremely wet, the line of cars behind the safety car raising a kind of thick mist as they passed through the puddles.

— Rolling start? — Fernando asked, his voice drowned out by the sound of the engine and water evacuating from his tires as he rounded Spoon corner, with Lewis Hamilton’s Mercedes behind and Charles Leclerc's Ferrari in front of him. 

Charlie's eyes sought out the window that had the race director communication on the screen, confirming the information.

— Yes, rolling start at the end of the current lap, Fer.

— Copy.

Tension built in Charlie's shoulders as the safety car drove across the bridge. They were on the 33rd lap and, by the looks of it, the race would not finish in the expected 53 laps, especially after the long red flag due to the storm that fell on the circuit for the second year in a row.

— How many laps? — the driver asked.

— About 10 to 12, at least — she replied, pursing her lips as she watched the safety car round the last few turns before entering the pit lane — Green flag.

Fernando took off in search of Leclerc, who had tried to control the pace of the peloton until the last few seconds to then accelerate on the main straight. With her eyes on the timetable, Charlie couldn't help but feel anxious as she saw the gap between them growing rapidly as they drove through the wet corners of the circuit.

— Leclerc a second ahead — she said — Hamilton 1.4 behind.

— Rain?

— Radar indicating it's going to stay that way for the next ten minutes.

— Understood.

As the lap count ticked up, an interesting scenario began to unfold. Charles had started complaining about the temperature of his tires, claiming they were degrading too fast and causing him to slide in the low speed corners. Seeing Fernando go through the hairpin and the gap between the two dropping by a few tenths, Charlie knew what she had to do. She pressed the strategy button on the comms panel in front of her.

— Charles is having trouble with his tires. Do I tell Fernando to attack?

— Are our tires stable? — Peter, the head of strategy, seated near Charlie at the pit wall, asked.

— Stable temperature, low degradation — Raúl said next to her — The car is responding well, I believe we can press him.

— We have a good second place at the moment, is it worth the risk? — Charlie heard Mike ask. In her mind, she could hear Fernando saying that he was capable of making that overtake, that he knew exactly what to do against Charles, that he just needed her signal.

— It's not a risk, Mike. It's our chance — she said, watching Leclerc scramble around the hairpin.

Peter and Mike deliberated for some time about the gap and weather conditions and whether or not Fernando would be able to catch the Ferrari in front of him. Charlie’s finger hovered over the button on her panel that would open communication with Fernando, and she felt uneasy as time dragged on.

— Okay, let's try.

She smiled as she confirmed the request and pressed the button.

— Six laps to go. You are 0.9 behind Leclerc. Time to attack.

— Understood.

Watching his fingers tighten on the steering wheel, Charlie could see the hunger in the way Fernando drove, almost gracefully gliding over the corners. The gap dropped with each sector, her eyes flickering between his onboard and the timetable, her bottom lip between her teeth.

— Leclerc has just complained about the tires again — someone over the radio communications channel said. Charlie didn't care about the Ferrari any more, all she cared about was Fernando’s relentless pursuit of it as he fought through the spray to find those last few tenths of a second.

Then, at the exit of the last curve before the main straight, Charles lost the rear. That was enough for the Aston Martin to catch him on the straight and, on the first corner, pass him on the inside of the curve.

— Yes — Charlie exclaimed — Good job, Fernando!

— C’mon! — he replied, his tone of voice indicating he was smiling.

— We have three more laps, three more laps. Switch race, now, switch race.

— Copy.

Those last minutes of the race seemed to last for hours. Charlie's anxiety grew as she saw the interval between Fernando and Charles changing by the second. Another victory was coming, another day in which the mission had been accomplished and right there, in a place he loved so much.

— Last lap, Fer. Level seven, level seven.

— Understood.

But he was still going through the last few turns, the sound of the engine roaring in her ears. Charlie could feel the air trapped in her lungs, tension building in her shoulders.

And then, finally, Fernando crossed the finish line.

— Yes! Checkered flag, P1! C’mon, Fer!

— Yeah! C’mon, team! — the driver roared from the other side — Fantastic, fantastic!

— Very good, Fer, very good. Perfect maneuver into Turn 1, just perfect.

— You were amazing today, all of you. Mikey, the mechanics, Raúl… And you, too, Charlie.

She wanted to say something, but didn't have time to say anything before Mike came over the radio to praise Fernando and his skill. Then, Charlie relayed the information so Fernando stopped the car in the right place in the parc-fermé, before passing it on to him, who only replied with a “copy”.

As she was removing her headset to leave the pit wall and watch the podium ceremony outside, she felt a tap on her arm. Looking to the side, she found Mike smiling.

— Charlie, can you go get the trophy for us?

She blinked, a little shocked.

— Me?

— Yes, you.

— But, I have to get the data ready for the debrief…

— Raúl will do that later, now go to the podium — he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a playful squeeze, as if he was encouraging her to go.

Charlie nodded and pulled up her hood before she sprinted across the pitlane, heading towards parc fermé, where photographers, security and crew members were piled against the guardrails. Squeezing past the crowd, she presented her credentials. After some confusion between the FIA officials and the Japanese security staff, Charlie was finally allowed into the cooldown area.

As she walked down the corridor, couldn't help but feel butterflies in her stomach thinking about what it would be like to take the trophy and celebrate that sweet and rewarding moment in front of everyone. "Hope I don't drop it", Charlie thought, before turning towards a room and running into a wall of people and cameras. She knew she was in the right place when she heard a familiar voice.

— I really thought your tires were fine until — Fernando said to Charles, as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, the light-blue helmet in his hands along with the HANS device. However, he stopped mid-sentence when his eyes met Charlie's.

Without saying anything, he dropped everything in his hands and almost ran towards her as she squeezed past the photographers. Throwing herself into his arms, Charlie clung to Fernando's neck as he laughed, hugging her tightly and taking her feet off the ground.

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, it was as if everything else had disappeared around them. It was just the two of them in that moment, Charlotte and Fernando, conquering the world, facing everyone and everything for victory. Together.

— You finally came — the driver said, putting her on the ground, one hand sweeping back the strands of her hair — I thought I'd have to beg Mike to let you come here.

— Actually, he's the one who begged me to come here. I thought you'd like some company.

Fernando smiled, hugging her again.

— Your company, always — he murmured in her ear, before pulling away slightly. She wished that she could kiss him right there, in front of the cameras, Charles and Lewis.

Remembering where she was, Charlie looked over to where the other two drivers were sitting. Charles pretended to be interested in the bottle of water he was drinking, and Lewis watched them with a curious look on his face as he adjusted his Pirelli podium cap over his braids.

— Hi, Charlie — he said, smiling — Good to see you here.

— Hi, Lewis — she replied, feeling Fernando's hand rest on the curve of her spine — It's good to see you too. Hi, Charles.

— Oh, hi — the Ferrari driver replied, before raising the water bottle to his mouth again.

When Lewis asked something about their choice to press Charles even on intermediate tyres, she felt Fernando slide his fingers down her back, resting his hand on her ass. As she turned to catch Fernando’s gaze, he simply smiled at her. Not a sly or playful smile, but a smile of pure happiness.

— Gentlemen — a man in a suit and a badge with the FIA logo said, hesitating briefly when he realized that she was there — Oh, and ladies, too. If you could come with me…

Drivers were called one by one to the podium. When it was Fernando's turn, he squeezed Charlie's hand knowingly before heading out, to applause and cheers from the spectators. She was so enthralled watching him take the podium that she nearly missed her cue to walk out to the space reserved for the team representative. She dashed out and waved to the rest of the team gathered to watch, and Fernando winked at her, making her feel warm inside.

As the Spanish anthem sounded through Suzuka, she couldn't help but look at Fernando in awe. There was something about the way he looked straight ahead, his expression solemn and proud, that made Charlie admire him even more. How had she been so blind to his dedication and effort? How had she been able to ignore all that and only see his bad side for so many years?

When the anthem of the United Kingdom ended, the drivers put their caps back on their heads and advanced on the champagne bottles. Charlie couldn't reach her own bottle before being hit head-on by a jet of liquid thrown by Lewis. Laughing, she tried to put her hand in front of her face, while the other tried to open the bottle to defend herself, without success.

— Fer, help me! — she shouted over the triumphant sound of Bizet’s Les Toreadors. And he came, trying to defend himself against Lewis and Charles, his fingers opening the cork for Charlie. With the bottle open and dripping foam, she took it from Fernando's hands, splashing the liquid on him while laughing. He placed his hand in front of his face to protect himself as he approached her.

And then, the driver hugged her tightly, planting a chaste kiss on her temple.

— Thanks — he murmured, before turning his face away and leading her to the highest point of the podium for photos with the three drivers, all wet with champagne, rain, and sweat.

After handing the bottles over to the team in the pit lane, they went to the motorhome together to dry off. Later, after the garage celebration and media interviews, they participated in the debrief. However, it was obvious that both did not want to be there.

With Fernando's hand resting discreetly on her leg, Charlie's anxiety only grew inside her. And the full extent of that feeling was reflected in the awkward way the two of them exited the elevator at the hotel, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

— Fer, no — she said softly, laughing as the driver distributed kisses and nibbles on her skin — Someone will see us…

— Let them see — Fernando murmured — Let them know that I'm crazy about you, nena …

Digging through her backpack for his room key, Charlie felt her skin tingle with excitement at his sensual whispers and indiscreet touching. She had resisted for far too long her own desire to demonstrate the happiness that welled up inside her.

The two of them clumsily entered the suite, dropping what they had in their hands before turning their attention to each other. When their lips finally met, it was like fireworks exploded inside Charlie's chest. Her fingers clung desperately to the back of Fernando's neck, while he unbuttoned the green pants she was wearing and pushed them down.

Feeling her back land softly on the mattress, he helped her out of her dark green T-shirt, smiling as he looked down at her neck, almost as if she were admiring a work of art. Charlie knew her neck was covered with the hickeys he'd given her.

— It’s ugly, isn’t it? — she asked softly, feeling his fingers brush against her skin.

— No — Fernando answered — It's sexy. Sexy as fuck.

The two kissed again, more slowly. Charlie felt like she was finally savoring that afternoon's victory, not as a co-worker, but as who she really was to Fernando — his best friend.

Before long, the sounds of their shared pleasure filled the room. Rolling her eyes, Charlie dug her nails into the skin of Fernando's shoulders as he thrust his hips against her. Her legs were wrapped around him, tense, as the moans escaped her lips. The rhythm was perfect, the angle of his cock reaching the delicious point that made her come closer and closer to ecstasy.

Just when Charlie thought she couldn't feel any better, she felt his hand slide between them to massage her clit in time with his thrusts, making her gasp loudly.

— Fuck, just like that! Yes, yes, yes, please, like that…

— C’mon, nena — Fernando murmured, his voice strained by his concentration in her pleasure while trying to not surrender to his own — Come for me, let me feel that pretty pussy squeezing me...

The tension building in her muscles released in a wave of pleasure. Arching her spine, Charlie pressed her calves against Fernando's skin, his name leaving her lips like a plea, a prayer and a realization.

After reaching his own orgasm, coming inside her with a loud moan, Fernando collapsed next to Charlie, out of breath. Staring at the ceiling, her heart pounding in her chest, her fingers tightening around his hand, as if she wanted to make sure he wasn't a figment of her imagination. As she turned to look at him and saw the small smile he had on his face, Charlie found her answer.

Fernando was real. Real enough to make her feel complete.

She had no idea how long she stayed like that, analyzing every feature of his face, from the scar on his upper lip to the green smudges mixed with the brown of his eyes, framed by the lines of the time. However, it must have been a while, because eventually Fernando complained that he was cold and invited her to take a bath in the generously-sized soaking tub in the in-suite bathroom.

— We're just going to need to shower first — he murmured, brushing her bangs out of her eyes — You know, local custom.

— Custom?

— The Japanese use bathtubs to relax and not necessarily clean themselves. Then, you take a good shower and only then get into the bathtub to warm up.

Charlie smiled.

— Let’s go, then.

They got up from the bed and went to the bathroom giggling, fighting over the water temperature for a few minutes before hugging each other under the hot jet of the shower. Once they were clean and their skin smelled of something fresh, like lemongrass, they finally allowed themselves to relax in the bathtub. Sitting between Fernando's legs, Charlie leaned back against his chest, feeling his arms wrap around her in a warm embrace.

Placing her own hands over his, his thumbs caressed the wet skin slowly as she felt his lips kiss the top of her head. In the stillness of that bathroom, Charlie could only hear their breathing echoing on the tiles, a sign of the tranquility and intimacy she had created with Fernando. An intimacy she didn't have with anyone. And that she would never have in her life.

— Nena? — she heard him whisper close to her ear.

— Yeah?

— Can I tell you something?

Charlie murmured affirmatively, eyes closed, savoring the temperature of the water and Fernando's tender touch.

— I love you.

Her stomach dropped suddenly, her eyes opening to stare blankly, wide. The water in the bathtub turned cold and the air inside the bathroom completely froze. It was as if the world had stopped turning the instant he had uttered those three words. Turning her head slowly to look at him, Charlie felt like her heart was going to explode.

— What did you say?

— That's what you heard — Fernando said — I love you, Charlotte.

She couldn't process it.

From the beginning, she had convinced herself that what they had was something simple and casual. Two adults with a tough job who found solace in each other. “Just fun”, she remembered thinking, while still lying on the bed in his apartment in Monaco, as she watched him sleep peacefully beside her, his face without a trace of worry or frustration.

“I love you”, his voice repeated inside Charlie's mind.

Fernando loved her.

At some point, she should have realized that. What they had hadn't been purely carnal for many months now, but she was still trying to convince herself that it was all in her head. No man introduces the woman he is casually fucking to his close friends or worse, to his entire family. No man spends so much time trying to befriend the cat of the woman he's fucking for nothing. No man asks the woman he's fucking to make his life hell, unless he loves her.

He loved her.

Fernando loved her.

And that was...

— Charlie? — he asked — Are you okay?

She jumped to her feet, causing water to slosh everywhere. The chill that crept over her wet skin was secondary to the frightening feeling of being suffocated. Charlie needed space, needed to breathe, needed to get it out of her chest.

With the water dripping from her body and wetting the floor, she grabbed one of the towels that was neatly rolled up on top of a shelf and draped herself haphazardly in it. Walking into the bedroom, Charlie could hear Fernando's voice far away inside her head, her pulse beating over the words.

Picking up the first piece of clothing she came across, she quickly began to dress, feeling the fabric cling to her wet skin. Her chest ached, her heart felt like it was going to burst. “This can't be happening, it can't, it can't”, Charlie repeated as she haphazardly slid her panties up her legs.

Then, she felt a hand grab her arm. Looking up, Charlie found Fernando with an expression that was a mixture of confusion and concern.

— Charlie, please — he said — What happened? Tell me. Do you need some…

— This has gone too far.

The driver stared at her for a few seconds.

— What? This? What are you talking about?

— This, this thing, us — she stammered, frustrated, trying to find the words in the mess that had become her brain — We've gone too far!

— But, what is the problem? Charlie, I don't care...

— But I care! I care, Fernando, I — she stopped, feeling her eyes sting — I need to go.

— Charlie, please — he asked, as he saw her walking away, his hands slipping over her cold skin — Stay, let's talk, I want to understand...

— We've gone too far, too far — Charlie continued muttering as she picked up her backpack and slung it over her back.

— Please, don't do that — Fernando repeated softly, his voice sounding choked — I love you, Charlie.

“No, no, no”, she thought, her vision blurry as she walked to the suite door. It felt hard to breathe, so she had started hyperventilating. All Charlie could think about was getting out of there, but the sound of Fernando’s voice hurt in a way that she couldn’t explain.

Without looking back, Charlie left the room and walked quickly down the hall, stopping at the door of the suite reserved for her but that she barely had used. Fitting the keycard shakily into the lock, she stomped into the small hall, closing the door with her body as she leaned against it. Then, sliding her back across the wood, she finally collapsed.

Clutching her own legs, still bare since, in her haste, she hadn't even put her own pants back, Charlie allowed herself to cry, the tears accompanied by loud sobs, the kind that made her chest ache. She wasn't crying out of sadness or pain. She was crying out frustration and, in a way, out fear as well.

Charlie felt frustrated with not having seen the way their relationship was going, with not having realized that Fernando was enchanted by her in that way, that he loved her. She had blinded herself with the belief that what they had was purely physical, that he saw nothing more than a sexual partner amidst the madness of the world they lived in.

Yet at the same time, the signs were all there, staring her in the face, from the first time they'd had sex. Fernando had insisted on cleaning her, offering her water, and then he fell asleep cuddling her. He had introduced her to his family, taken her around his own house, taken her to dinner with the person he trusted most. He, who always said he preferred to find the answers to his own frustrations alone, had sought comfort from her when everything had gone wrong.

His cielo. His luz. His nena. His love.

Sinking her fingers into her wet hair, Charlie felt hot tears fall down her legs. As if it wasn't bad enough knowing that Fernando loved her, she had no idea what that feeling in her chest was. She had always defined it as enchantment or even affection. He had said he was her friend, and that word seemed quite enough.

But, maybe it wasn’t, not always.

She remembered the funny feeling she felt when she saw him with Ron in his arms for the first time, as well as the way she smiled when she saw him dozing while watching LOST, his head thrown back and with his mouth open. She remembered the lightness inside her chest when Fernando pulled her to dance when his playlist started playing a lively song in Italian while cooking. She remembered the shiver that had run over her skin when, driving Jamie back to Northampton after the race at Silverstone, her grandfather had said he approved Fernando, without her even mentioning him.

The sensations, the smiles, the shivers, none of it had a name until that moment.

Lifting her head and leaning it against the wood of the door, Charlie felt angry with herself. She hated being fragile, like a china figurine in the hands of someone who had no care for her. The anxiety for the moment when she would crash on the floor was greater than any other feeling Charlie could have about it.

She didn't want to be fragile, sensitive, or weak. Not when she'd already been knocked to the ground so many times, especially by people who were supposed to preserve her. Lifting the collar of her shirt, Charlie wiped away the tears, smelling a familiar scent that made her even sadder.

Standing up, she walked to the bathroom and realized that she wasn't wearing her own team shirt, but Fernando's. In her rush to get out of the room, she'd probably grabbed the wrong piece off the floor, but it wasn't like she could go back for her shirt.

She had left that room never to return.

#fa #fernando alonso #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso x oc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #formula 1 x oc #f1 x oc #formula one x oc #nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

chapter ten — dile a él

➝ when charlie knocked on the door of her grandparents' house, she expected a welcome (and a plate of roast), especially after what happened with fernando. however, she is faced with the reality of facing her own feelings about him and about herself.

➝ word count: 4,2k

➝ warnings: childhood traumas

➝ author's note: sorry for being late, my life is driving me insane nowadays. tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

Charlie drove her car through the familiar streets of Far Cotton, the red brick houses blurring past the window. She regularly came this way on weekends when she wasn’t working at circuits and race tracks around the world. After almost a month away on the flyaway rounds, she had been looking forward to seeing her grandparents again.

The flyaway tripleheaders were the worst for Charlie. Coming back from the circuits every day to sleep in an unfamiliar bed was extremely exhausting and melancholy. She had found something that made those faraway hotel rooms feel more comfortable, though. She never felt better than when she chose to sleep in Fernando’s arms after they watched a movie together, or when they analyzed onboard videos together, or made each other come.

However, that had ended weeks ago.

Since the night she'd run away from Fernando’s hotel room in Suzuka, their relationship had entered uncharted territory. Fernando even tried to talk to her after the incident, sending numerous messages and calling her several times. He even left a note on her desk at the factory, asking her to call him, signed with a simple 'Fer'.

With the little piece of paper in her hand, she wondered if it was the best thing for her to do — to give in to her heart and have a discussion with Fernando. But when she looked up to the doorway of the engineering office and saw him, staring down at her anxiously, helmet and balaclava in hand and hair tousled after another simulator session, Charlie was sure.

They needed to be professional.

As she left the motorway, Charlie drove down the narrow street at a slower speed, her eyes searching for the vine-covered facade that climbed the red bricks and made her grandparents’ house stand out amongst the others. Usually, she could find the place by looking for the hydrangeas that bloomed every spring thanks to her grandmother's zeal.

Thinking about the flowers made something ache inside her chest, her mind transporting her to a sunny morning in Switzerland. Wearing one of Fernando's sweatshirts, the two were walking arm in arm near Lake Lugano when he stopped and went to a flower bed, picking a purple pansy that was planted there.

— Fer — she said, trying to understand what he wanted to do. After shortening the stem a bit, the driver adjusted her hair before tucking the flower behind her ear with a smirk.

— A flower for a flower.

Charlie rolled her eyes.

— I am not a flower.

— Yes, you are. An English rose.

— I thought that story about you liking plants was silly.

— I like plants. So much so that I'm sure you're an English rose.

— Why?

— Because you're beautiful — he said, running a hand around her waist — And full of thorns.

She patted his chest, before letting out a giggle.

— You're an idiot.

— Look, you just showed your thorns — Fernando said, making her laugh even more, as he hugged her, placing a tender kiss on her cheek.

Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that she'd shown Fernando her own thorns that night in Suzuka. Worse, she had ripped his heart open with them.

 “I'm a disgrace”, she thought to herself, as she parked in front of her grandparents' house.

When she rang the bell, Charlie heard her grandfather's voice echoing through the small hall, saying something about learning French. He sounded excited about it. When he opened the door, she couldn’t hold back her smile.

— Bonjour, ma fleur — Jamie said in greeting.

— Hi, grandpa — Charlie answered — Was that supposed to be French?

— Yes. What did you think?

— Awful — she said, laughing, before stepping into the hall and removing her shoes.

— That's what I told him — Amanda yelled from the kitchen.

— Oh, come on, it wasn't so bad — her grandfather said as Charlie took off her coat.

— It was.

— It's not like yours is any better, huh? — he teased, running a hand through her hair the same way he did when she was little.

It made Charlie sad. She didn't know any French, but because of living with Fernando, she had started to learn a few loose words and short phrases, usually things completely inappropriate or exclusively to be said in the bedroom. However, of all of them, the favorite was still “tu es à moi”.

You are mine.

“Well, not anymore”, she thought, as she walked into the kitchen and found her grandmother in front of the oven, checking the roast she was preparing for that Sunday's lunch.

— Good morning, my dear, how are you? — Amanda asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

— I'm fine, grandma — Charlie replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek before settling into one of the chairs at the kitchen table — And what's this about speaking French?

— Your grandfather and I want to go to France next year. We want to celebrate our wedding anniversary in style — she said, heading over to the sink, where she was preparing the horseradish sauce.

— They say Nice is beautiful in May — Jamie spoke, one hand resting on the back of her chair. But the smile on his face didn't fool Charlie.

— Funny, I'll be there in May — she said, a little disinterested.

— You will? — Amanda turned to her, drying her hands on the cloth over her shoulder.

— Nice is close to Monaco — Charlie said, looking up at her grandmother, who quickly connected the dots.

— James Lionel Whitlam, do you want to go to France three months before our wedding anniversary just to see a race? — she asked, in an outraged tone.

— It's not just any race, my dear, it's the Monaco Grand Prix! It is simply one of the most important in the world. Besides, we could visit all those beautiful beaches I showed you…

— But you want to have a weekend to see the race, don't you?

— Yeah, but Charlie could arrange excellent accommodations for us to see her in action — he said, smiling at his granddaughter.

— You’re talking like I’m one of the drivers.

— Well…

— Our grandson-in-law will be there, no? — Amanda asked, a mischievous little smile on her face, making Charlie's hands go cold.

— Huh — Jamie said, his interest piqued — You mean I have a grandson-in-law now?

— No, that's not…

— Yes, he is a very handsome man — her grandmother continued.

— Grandma! — Charlie exclaimed.

— Do I know this man, by any chance? —- her grandfather asked.

— I think so, he works with Charlie, doesn't he, my dear?

— I'm not going to talk about it — she said, her voice resolute. She had gone to Far Cotton to talk about other matters and spend time with her grandparents, not to talk about Fernando, especially after what had happened in Suzuka.

— Well, I guess you should, it's been a long time since you've brought someone here — Jamie said — When was the last one, in 2010?

— No, there was that boy, Robert — Amanda recalled, before going back to the oven — She brought him here on a Saturday, you spent dinner asking him about engines.

Her grandmother wasn't wrong. The last person she had introduced to her grandparents had been one of the McLaren’s mechanics named Robert, in 2018. He had always been very nice to her and, on one occasion, after a bad race, the two ended up getting closer and engaged in a relationship.

However, their relationship only lasted a few months. Shortly after the end of the season, he told her about a job offer he had received to migrate to the world of endurance racing, which would force him to move to Germany. At the time, Charlie didn't mind too much. After all, they weren’t that serious yet, and she didn't want to be an obstacle for him.

However, seeing the photo of him celebrating a victory at the Six Hours of Fuji together with Fernando the following year, along with a caption in which he thanked the driver for bringing him to the team, made her feel angry. At the time, Charlie raged to anyone who would listen that that man had destroyed one more thing in her life, as if all the damage he had done over the years wasn't enough.

“He just can’t stop”, she thought to herself, pressing her lips together.

— So, when are we going to meet this man? — Jamie asked, pulling Charlie out of her thoughts.

— There's no one, grandpa — she replied, not looking at him.

— No one? Funny, someone told me otherwise — he said.

— That someone is wrong — Charlie said, vehemently. She didn't want to talk about her and Fernando anymore because of how painful it was — Now can we talk about something else?

— Well, we can — Amanda replied — But I will need your help with the roast in the oven.

With the subject returning to their trip to Nice, Charlie helped her grandmother finish their lunch while Jamie set the table. The three of them ate between jokes and laughter, which made her anguish, which had only been growing in recent weeks, lessen a little, but not completely. After lunch, Jamie went out to the back of the house while Charlie helped her grandmother wash and put away the day's dishes. The two talked about flights, Nice and beaches, until the subject came back to the same point as before, much to her frustration.

— Before lunch, you said you didn't have anyone — Amanda said — You mean that thing with…

— I don't want to talk about it — Charlie answered, dryly.

— You seemed so happy...

— Grandma, it was nothing.

— Nothing?

She huffed, turning off the faucet.

— What happened between me and Fernando was just a brief thing. 

— You said you liked him...

— Does it matter?

— Well, it matters because I'm pretty sure it wasn’t just a brief thing.

She stared at Amanda in silence for a few seconds, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

— Grandma…

— My dear, you need not be afraid to share things with me.

— But I — she began, only to be interrupted.

— I've always done everything to make you trust me...

— And I do. I trust you.

— So tell me what happened to Fernando…

— I don’t want to talk about it! — she exclaimed, slamming her hands on the kitchen counter. Amanda looked at her in silence, seeming shocked by her granddaughter's reaction.

— You really are Deborah's daughter — she murmured, dropping the dish towel onto the counter and leaving the kitchen.

The way she said it made Charlie hudder. Many people aspired to be like their parents in adult life, but she definitely never wanted to be like her mother, and that's since she was a little girl.

Deborah never wanted to be a mother, and she never hid that from anyone, least of all from Charlie. She had gotten pregnant at 17, during what she called “a complex phase of her life” after she’d fallen in with the wrong company, getting into petty crime, and even started using drugs. However, getting pregnant had been the catalyst for her to seek a new life, far from that past that had only brought her sadness and pain.

However, in trying to escape her own past, Deborah left Charlie behind.

Her mother was completely aloof from the beginning. Of course, she had never mistreated Charlie, but it was clear that Deborah was somewhat indifferent. She wasn't excited about Charlie’s developmental advances or her achievements as normal mothers would be. In the end, that little girl with the big blue eyes and light hair was just a stain from her past, the only one she could ever erase.

Moving in with grandparents was an easy decision for Charlie. So easy, in fact, that she made it almost unconsciously when she was four. One night, her mother came to pick her up from her grandparents’ house after work, to take her back home to the tiny flat where they lived, in Semilong, a rough neighborhood with cheap rent. As Charlie heard the doorbell, she started to cry, asking to stay. However, it was of no use, as Jamie took her to the entrance while Amanda got her little backpack.

— I don't want to go, I don't want to! —  she whimpered, while clinging to Jamie's leg, thick tears running down her cheeks.

— But, my dear, you're coming back tomorrow morning — Amanda said, crouching down to her level as her grandfather stroked her head.

— But I want to stay here with you — Charlie whimpered, his hands gripping the fabric of Jamie's pants — Please, let me stay here.

— My love, your mummy will be sad...

— No she won’t, I know that — she sobbed, hiding her face from Deborah's serious gaze. Charlie knew that her mother dreamed of getting rid of that burden that the past had imposed on her. There had been countless times that she had heard her argue with her grandparents, saying that she never wanted to have a daughter — She doesn't like me.

— It's not like that, Charlotte — Amanda said, trying to get her to let go of Jamie's leg — Your mummy loves you very much, just like grandpa and I love you. Isn't that right, Deborah?

As she looked up at her mother, Charlie received the response she'd been waiting for, but it didn't make her heart ache any less. She was staring at her without any apparent emotion, her lips set in a thin line. Deborah did not contradict her daughter, simply because it was true.

— Deborah — Jamie said softly, almost begging her to react, to say something.

— If she wants to stay, she can stay — Deborah finally said, her face frozen in a mask of indifference — I really don't care.

— Deborah! — her grandmother screamed, outraged.

— It’s the truth! If she wants to stay, she can. It’s probably easier that way.

— But this is your daughter!

— Yeah, well… I wish she wasn't — Deborah spat, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and walking out the front door, leaving her parents shocked behind.

It was the first time Charlie had her heart broken.

Drying her hands, Charlie left the kitchen and headed for the door that led to the back of the house. Crossing the small garden, she wanted to push away the unbearable loneliness she felt inside. She knew the only person who could help her was in the small, gray-painted garage.

She walked in silently, surveying the space filled with the things her grandfather had accumulated over the years of fixing engines there. Amidst shelves crammed with parts, tools strewn about, oil-stained cardboard boxes filled with various parts, Jamie was standing, looking at an engine that lay disassembled on the workbench.

— A V8? — she asked, with a small smile.

— Yes — her grandfather replied, as he arranged the pistons and connecting rods according to their original position in the block — It's from a 1997 Jaguar XJ 3.2. A friend of mine found it in Bolton.

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

— Did he drive it all the way here from Bolton?

— Yes — he said, as he picked up a connecting rod and looked at it closely, seeming to have noticed some possible damage to it.

— Must have been a hell of a deal for him to get this all the way here from Bolton.

— Yes, that was a pretty good deal — Jamie said, turning away to retrieve something from one of the shelves — Less than a thousand pounds, would you believe? And with this engine...

She braced one hand on the workbench, watching her grandfather compare a connecting rod he had in storage with the one he had removed from the Jaguar's engine. After a few seconds of silence, he looked up at his granddaughter.

— How is Fernando? You haven't mentioned him yet...

Charlie pressed her lips together, her shoulders suddenly tense. “When they will stop this torture?”, she asked herself.

— I don't know.

Jamie raised an eyebrow.

— I thought you knew, you guys are always… Together.

— We are co-workers, grandpa...

— Just co-workers? — he muttered, before turning back to the box to retrieve another part — It's not what it looks like, Charlie.

She felt her heart pounding heavily inside her chest.

— No?

Her grandfather turned around again, bracing his hands on the table.

— Charlie, please…

— Grandpa, I really don't understand what you want me to say.

— I want you to say what's going on between you and Fernando, because it's clearly not just a professional relationship and it's bothering you.

— How do you know that?

— I see it in your eyes, Charlie. You are not happy, quite the contrary.

— I'm talking about my relationship with Fernando — Charlie said quietly.

The man in front of her smiled.

— He told me.

It was as if the ground had disappeared from under her feet. Charlie had done his best to keep it hidden, especially from his grandfather, who had already expressed his feelings towards Fernando more than once and in an impolite way. However, apparently, all the ridiculous excuses to justify the extra days they had to spend with Ron had been useless.

Jamie knew everything.

— When? — she asked in a thin voice.

— At Silverstone — her grandfather said with a little smile — I was having tea in the private area when he came over to say hello. He said he recognized me from the picture you have on your desk at the factory and he was glad I came.

— You two talked once and you knew there was something between us?

— No — Jamie replied — I knew because he sat down with me and spent five minutes babbling about how incredibly smart and observant you were, how you understood him and how you translated that to the team during the race.

— It doesn't mean anything.

— It does when you say it the way he said it, with the look on his face that you only have when you’re in love. And he's in love with you, Charlie. This is clear to anyone who has spent five minutes with both of you.

— Wait, both of you? — she said, a little shocked.

— Yeah. He's in love with you and you're in love with him.

— Grandpa, for God's sake, don't...

— Charlie, I've seen you in love before. I've seen how you act around people you like. Remember that time when you introduced us to that girl, what was her name?

— Alyson — Charlie muttered, crossing her arms.

— I knew right away that you two were in love with each other, even though you said she was just your flatmate. By the way, what happened to her?

— She moved to the States to work for Ford, in Detroit. That's why we broke up. It didn't make sense to try and maintain a relationship over such a long distance...

— I remember how upset you were about that — Jamie said, picking up the crankshaft from the table and examining the part for wear and tear. Then, after a few seconds of silence, he looked back at Charlie — It was the same sadness I see now.

— Grandpa…

— You ended things with Fernando, is that it?

Charlie sighed.

— You can't end what you haven't even started.

— And at what point would things have started, for you?

— Well, I think — she hesitated for a few seconds — It's you having a… Talk about it, no?

— And you didn't talk about it?

— About what?

Jamie smirked.

— You know what I'm talking about, my love.

Charlie pursed her lips.

— Well, he's my friend.

— A friend that you make out with, right?

— Grandpa! — she exclaimed, outraged.

— What, am I wrong? — Jamie laughed — Just because I’ve seen three British monarchs doesn’t mean that I’m old-fashioned. I know how things are these days.

— But it's not like that with us...

— So how is your relationship with Fernando? — he asked emphatically — And be honest with me, Charlie.

She sighed, defeated.

— We were… Physical…

— So, you were having sex?

— Grandpa — Charlie said through clenched teeth.

— I asked for you to be honest, my dear.

— Okay — she relented — Having sex, fucking, shagging, whatever you prefer. The thing is, after that, back in Japan, he said he loved me.

Jamie smiled.

— And? What did you say?

— I panicked and ran out of his room — Charlie muttered.

Her grandfather looked a little surprised by that answer.

— But, you didn't say anything to him? You just left?

— What was I going to say?

— You should have told him how you felt. That’s usually what you say in those situations.

She ran her hand over her face.

— The point is, that I convinced myself that what we had was just us having a bit of fun. No strings, no commitments, just a physical relationship and nothing more.

— And you didn't think he'd fall in love with you? — her grandfather asked — Honestly, Charlie, have you ever looked in the mirror?

— It's not that, grandpa...

— So what is it?

— It's just — she hesitated for a few seconds, before continuing in a low voice — I'm afraid.

— Afraid?

— Afraid to give myself over to another person like that. Afraid of being fragile, of being in his hands. Afraid of letting myself down again — Charlie said, her eyes filling with tears — Afraid of being alone in the end, like I always have been.

Jamie came around the table, stopping in front of her. Then, placing his hands on his granddaughter's face, he stared at her for long seconds in silence, while the tears silently ran down her face.

— First of all, my love, you’ve never been alone.

— But…

— I'm speaking — he interrupted her — Your grandma and I were always with you, supporting you in everything you’ve done. And we would never leave you alone.

Charlie's bottom lip trembled as she sniffled.

— Secondly, you're being a little selfish. He gave himself to you and, even though you felt the same as him, you refused to do the same, for fear of getting hurt.

— Is it wrong to be afraid of getting hurt?

— It's wrong to be afraid of getting hurt when you know you're not going to get rejected. He loves you, my dear, and if you love him you should tell him so and give him a chance for you two to be happy together.

— Do you think it could work?

— Charlotte, he’s very fond of you. He likes you so much that he told me he knew I didn't like him as a driver, that he respected my opinion, but that he hoped I'd give him a chance as someone who wanted to make you happy. And I was sure he was capable of it that weekend, while seeing the two of you hugging after the podium.

The memory of when she found Fernando caused heat to fill Charlie's chest. The pit lane encounter at Silverstone had been just as exciting as it had been in Montreal. However, the fact that it was her home race made the moment he placed the golden trophy handed over by the circuit into her hands even more special.

That afternoon's achievement had taken a backseat to the way he smiled at her, as if her joy was his greatest prize. The pictures Jimmy had taken of them were proof of that, their looks saying far more than any words they'd exchanged so far.

Love. It had always been love.

She loved Fernando. She had always loved him.

— I don't think he wants anything to do with me anymore, grandpa — Charlie muttered.

— I highly doubt that.

— Why?

— Because love, when it's sincere, doesn't end overnight. It resists, my dear. It grows in the face of difficulties, obstacles. And I know that his love for you is sincere.

More tears trickled down Charlie's face. She felt like a complete idiot for running like a scared animal from that room in Japan. She felt awful for having ignored Fernando's messages and calls, as well as his requests for them to talk about this matter.

— I'm a monster — Charlie said quietly.

Jamie pulled her into a tight hug as she continued to sob.

— You are not a monster. You are wonderful, my dear. You are very special and I've always known that since the day I held you in my arms and looked into your eyes for the first time.

Charlie stayed a few minutes with his head nestled on his grandfather's chest, his hands gripping the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. Then, she felt Jamie pull back slightly to look at her.

— You love him?

— Yes.

— Then it's time to tell him.

— What if he doesn't want to hear me?

Jamie smiled kindly, her eyes filled with the same warmth as the night she'd officially been welcomed into that house.

— I'm going to have a word with him — her grandfather muttered, causing Charlie to giggle.

— Are you going to beat him up?

— I made it very clear to him that if you got your heart broken, we'd have a long talk.

— A conversation involving broken bones?

— I’m never in favor of violence and you know it.

— Yeah, grandma told me — Charlie replied, as he ran his hand through her hair again, laughing.

— But seriously, talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Tell him that you were scared, that you are scared, open up to him. I'm sure he'll listen to you, my dear.

Charlie sniffled, running a hand over her face.

— I hope, grandpa. I really hope so.

#fa #fernando alonso #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso x oc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #formula one fanfic #formula one fic #nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

chapter fourteen — epilogo

➝ when the nature of their relationship is revealed to the world, fernando and charlie end up having a serious conversation about the direction they want to take.

➝ word count: 2,2k

➝ warnings: spanish media, insecurity

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie, @he-is-the-destined, @sunnytkm23 and @enaticosencantados as requested.

Sitting on the couch with the remote in her hand, Charlie frantically scanned the channels on the television. Probably none of them would be broadcasting Brighton's game in Spain, after all, if the team wasn't facing one of the big clubs in England, nobody really cared. But, it wouldn't hurt to take a look to confirm.

However, she stopped on one of the channels when she saw a familiar image on the screen that made up the program's scenario.

— Las redes están alborotadas con esta imagen que finalmente lo confirma — the presenter announced in a happy voice — Fernando Alonso está de vuelta en las pistas y muy enamorado. El piloto asturiano, que sufrió una fractura de tobillo en el último Gran Premio de Las Vegas, fue visto en el circuito que lleva su nombre intercambiando abrazos y caricias con una mujer. Hablemos con Marina Rubel, que está en Oviedo, con más información. Marina?

The screen split to a live entry of a dark-haired woman who appeared to be in a park. Dropping the controller on the couch, Charlie couldn't stop watching, even though she didn't understand anything that was being said. But in a way, she didn't even need to.

— Hola Anne, buenas tardes. Esta es la confirmación de que el dos veces campeón de Fórmula 1 está, de hecho, en una nueva relación casi un año después de su ruptura con la periodista austriaca Andrea Schlager — the reporter said — Además del video que circula en las redes sociales, el propio Fernando publicó en su cuenta de Instagram una imagen de su nueva novia luciendo un mono y un casco de su escuela de karting, con el pie de foto "de vuelta a la pista".

— Hasta el momento, no se sabe quién sería esta misteriosa mujer, ¿verdad?

— Bueno, no se sabía. Sin embargo, nuestro equipo hizo un gran trabajo de investigación y tenemos, en exclusiva, el nombre de la nueva novia de Fernando Alonso. Descúbrelo en el informe.

A familiar photo appeared over the screen. Charlie's stomach twisted.

— La nueva novia de Fernando Alonso es un soplo de aire fresco en su lista de conquistas amorosas. Tras su matrimonio con la cantante Raquel del Rosario y largas relaciones con la presentadora Lara Álvarez y la modelo Linda Morselli, la nueva chica del "Nano" es su ingeniera de carrera, la inglesa Charlotte Whitlam — the reporter's voice said, as videos and photos of the podium in Suzuka were played — Puede que no la reconozcas por su imagen, pero Charlie, como la llaman, es la voz que escuchamos en las interacciones por radio entre Fernando y su equipo…

Suddenly, the television turned off.

Charlie let out a gasp of protest, before turning around to see Fernando's serious gaze. She felt like a naughty child who had just been caught doing something she shouldn't.

— Why were you watching this? — he asked.

— I wasn't — Charlie stammered, feeling his face heat up — I was looking for the Brighton match…

— That didn't look like the Brighton match, Charlie — Fernando said.

— I know…

He walked around the couch, crutches clicking on the floor as he stopped beside her and sat down. Looking down at her hands, Charlie couldn't shake the discomfort she'd been feeling, not just at being caught watching a news report about what had happened over the past 24 hours, but at being exposed like that.

The day before, after visiting the museum, Fernando took her to the circuit, where the go-kart shed used by students from the school he had set up there was located. After meeting the crew that maintained the equipment, showing her how he tightened the wheels as a teenager, and hearing more about how they took care of the engines, Fernando asked her if she wanted to go for a ride on the track.

— Can I? — Charlie asked, almost as if she were a child delighted by the possibility of playing with a new toy.

— Of course.

Changing into a set of the school's blue overalls and a helmet, Charlie could see through the opening in the visor the smile that Fernando had on his face. Asking her to wait a bit before sitting in the kart, he took his phone out of his pocket and took some pictures of her, telling her that she looked like a real Formula 1 driver.

After the last instructions, Charlie put her foot down on the accelerator, leaving the garage in the direction of the track. Allowing herself to experiment on the asphalt, she couldn't help but laugh when she caught too much of one of the kerbs in one of the corners or when she almost lost the rear at the last chicane. Driving the kart around made her feel strangely nostalgic, especially when she thought back to the times she and her grandfather had gone to a track in Northampton for a few laps.

When she pulled up in front of the garage, Charlie found Fernando with a wide smile on his face, leaning against the wall.

— So, what do you think? — he asked.

Charlie walked over to him as she took off her helmet and balaclava. 

— It's amazing, the kart is very well adjusted and the track is excellent! — she exclaimed, smiling, while the driver took one of his hands to her forehead, fixing her disheveled bangs  — And you, what did you think?

— You still need some lessons — Fernando replied, receiving a playful pat on the chest from Charlie — But you've got potential, nena, lots of potential.

After laughing, she gave him a soft kiss, one hand on his face, caressing the driver's cheek. A moment Charlie wanted to keep forever inside her heart and not have it recorded and posted to the entire world. The sensationalist headlines were already sketching in her mind, one worse than the other.

“Fernando Alonso takes his own engineer to bed”.

"Meet Charlie Whitlam, Alonso's newest girl".

"Charlie Whitlam: how an ordinary engineer got one of Formula 1's most eligible bachelors".

— Look, Charlie — Fernando said, breaking the silence in the living room — I already knew this was going to happen.

She glanced in the driver's direction with a raised eyebrow.

— Did you?

— Well, when you achieve a certain notoriety in Spain, let's say your life becomes the object of scrutiny by the press, such as…

— Tabloids? — Charlie asked. She was familiar with abuse in the British press, especially by the tabloids. It was not uncommon to see journalists crowding around the drivers in Silverstone, in search of an image or a bombastic statement to put on the covers of their newspapers.

— Yeah — Fernando replied — The point is that, in one way or another, they would connect the dots between us. And then they would come after us, wanting more and more, just…

— Like it was with all the other girlfriends you had — she completed.

— Yes. I never felt really bad for them because they were people who were used to it. They lived off their own image, so showing up with me wouldn't hurt them. In fact, they even took advantage of this to boost their own careers, which seemed stupid to me…

— You know you can't judge them, right?

— Why not?

— Because you also live off your image and appearing alongside them wouldn't hurt you either. By the way, didn't you pose for a magazine cover with one of them?

Fernando gave an embarrassed giggle.

— Yeah, I did. But… How do you know that?

— I watched your documentary — Charlie murmured.

— Did you? When?

— On the flight to Vegas. By the way, I thought that magazine cover was shit.

He looked shocked.

— But the cover…

— It has a clear power imbalance between you and her, with the clothes and all. I would even say that it was sexist.

— I was shirtless.

— Wearing a suit coat and with her body covering your chest. It was ridiculous, Fer.

The driver stared at her for a few seconds before smiling, squeezing Charlie's hand.

— Okay, I admit, the idea was ridiculous.

— Sexist — she corrected.

— Ridiculous, sexist, any other descriptions you'd like to add?

— Disgusting. Idiotic. An offense to good taste.

— Okay, Charlie, I get it — Fernando sighed— The point is, you're different from them. You're not exactly a known person...

— People know my voice, they've seen me on television with you...

— Charlie, it's not the same as being my girlfriend. For these guys, you stop being a mere engineer to be a source of income. You stop being a person to be a character in their stories. And — he stopped, looking frustrated — Fuck, I didn't want that for you.

— No?

— You don't deserve to live in this scrutiny, in this monitored life, without any privacy, just because I love you — Fernando continued — I want my love to be something safe for you, to be something good and not a source of stress and fear.

Charlie looked at his hand thoughtfully.

— Where are you going with this story? — she asked quietly.

— I want you to know that you don't have to live through this if you don't want to.

— Are you giving me carte blanche to break up with you?

The driver's eyes widened.

— No, no, I don't want you to break up with me, Charlie. In fact, I want you by my side forever. But I don't want my life and everything that comes with it to become a burden on you.

— You would never be a burden, Fer.

— Maybe I'm not, but the spotlight is. Maybe the attention, the comments on the internet, the things people will say in the paddock, all of that is a burden. And I couldn't bear to see you fade just because I love you — he murmured — I want you to keep shining, Charlie. And I want to wake up every day with your light illuminating and warming me.

Something in his words made Charlie feel her eyes fill with tears. She had avoided love at all costs over the years. It was something too difficult, too terrifying for her. It wasn't worth investing in something that would only make her suffer and cry, clutching a bottle of wine and watching some sappy romance movie.

Then Fernando appeared in her life again. It was as if fate wanted them to settle the disputes that one had with the other. And the moment Charlie gave the driver a second chance, she allowed herself to discover a fantastic man, dedicated and loving, who cared about her and would do anything to see her happy.

Love was still difficult and terrifying for Charlie.

But, loving Fernando was the best thing that had happened in her life.

— I'll never fade as long as you're by my side — she said, with a small smile — I love you. And it won't be one article talking about me that will make me give up on you.

— Not even two?

— Not even a million — Charlie said, before approaching his face, giving a peck on his lips — Nothing in this world will make me give up on you.

Staring at her for a few seconds, Fernando smiled.

— You mean I can tell the whole world how much I love you?

— Well, it's not like nobody knows.

— But it wasn't me who said it, it was a bunch of nosy journalists. But, I think it’s time for me to say something and break the news on my own terms — he replied, taking his cell phone out of his pocket. Charlie almost immediately concluded what his plan was.

— Are you going to post a picture of us?

— Two, actually — the driver said, as he selected the images — If they want to know, they'll know.

— But — Charlie hesitated, looking at one of the photos — Do you need to post this one?

Fernando looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

— Don't you like this picture?

— I look terrible in it, Fer — she replied — Look at my hair, it's all messed up, I'm not wearing any makeup, and…

He chuckled, placing a hand on her face, his thumb lightly brushing her skin.

— You can be either way, I'll always find you beautiful — Fernando murmured — The most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

After searching a little more in the phone's gallery and finding a photo that showed the moment they were introduced to each other for the first time — with a Ron Dennis watching the moment attentively — the driver thought for long minutes before typing something in the telephone.

— “Two people never meet by chance” — Fernando said, looking at Charlie — What do you think?

— Are you talking about fate?

— Well, let's just say you made me believe in it.

She laughed.

— So it's my fault?

— Well, not only yours, but — the driver hesitated for a few seconds — There are only two ways to explain why we're together right now. One is careful planning and a crystal ball, which I believe is not the case. And the other is fate.

— So it was fate?

— Always has been, nena. You have always been my fate — Fernando said, before clicking the 'post' button.

#fa #fernando alonso #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso x oc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one fic #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #f1 x oc #formula one fanfic #nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

chapter two — moscow mule

➝ after two intense days, fernando decides to take his racing team to a tapas bar. charlie considers staying at the hotel, but something tells her that if she doesn't go, she might seem unfriendly. little does she know that that night will show her a completely different side of fernando.

➝ word count: 5,9k

➝ warnings: mentions of sexual harrassment, therapy session

➝ author's note: yeah, it will be a chapter a day around here. tagging @christianpulisic10 and @alonsogirlie as requested. enjoy!

Charlie felt a little uncomfortable as she followed after her colleagues down the cobbled street. It wasn't that she was the only woman in the group, or that they were going out drinking on a Tuesday; it was because of who made the plans to go out to a bar in Jerez de la Frontera. 

Fernando's invitation didn't surprise Charlie, given his attitude lately. Fernando, even beyond treating her with more respect than in their McLaren-Honda days, seemed interested in developing some kind of friendship with her. At first, she thought he was teasing her, the way he asked her so many questions. That is, until the previous Thursday. 

She was in her office at the factory, sitting at her workstation, drinking a cup of lemon ginger tea, and watching an onboard video of Fernando in Bahrain when she heard Fernando’s voice down the hallway. Charlie knew that he was coming over to the factory almost every day at that point for video and photo shoots for the marketing department, and for simulator sessions. 

Turning her eyes back to the screen, which showed Fernando making a wide line to avoid the raised curb at the apex of turn eight, Charlie took another sip of tea as she tried to ignore his approach.

— Hi, Charlie — he greeted her, leaning against the wall of her cubicle. His hair looked damp and was sticking up at strange angles. “He must have been in the simulator”, Charlie thought.

— Hi — she murmured, pulling her headphones down to hang around her neck.

— What are you watching there?

— Your race in Bahrain last year — Charlie said, setting her teacup down on the desk. He crouched down beside her, one arm resting on her desk.

— Cute cat — Fernando said. It took her by surprise, and she glanced over to him. His eyes were fixed on the photo of Ron that was pinned just below her race season calendar — I had one, once.

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

— You did?

— Yes, her name was Cleo. Linda liked cats and wanted one to keep her company.

— What happened? Did she die?

— Linda?

— Of course not, I'm talking about the cat.

— No, no, she's doing very well. She’s with Linda in — he paused for a few seconds — Argentina, I guess. Linda took her after we broke up.

There was a moment of awkward silence between them. 

— Do you miss her?

— Linda?

Charlie shot a sidelong glance at Fernando, making it obvious she didn’t care about his ex-girlfriend.

— Oh, Cleo. Well, a little, but deep down, I've always preferred dogs. More active, you know.

— Yeah.

There was another moment of awkward silence as Fernando continued gazing at the photo of the orange cat. Through Charlie’s headphones, the sound of the Renault engine drowned out the other conversations across the office.

— What's its name? — Fernando finally broke the silence.

— Its name?

— Your cat. What's its name?

Charlie pursed her lips, realizing what he was trying to do. He was trying to get close to her, create some camaraderie, or worse, strike up some sort of friendship. “This is just a dirty trick”, she thought, shifting in her chair.

— It doesn’t matter — she replied, dryly.

— But I told you about my cat.

— You mean your ex-girlfriend's cat, right?

— We adopted her together, so she was my cat too.

Charlie sighed, running a hand over her face before looking up at him again.

— Look, I was over here preparing your first race of the season, and you came over here bothering me about my cat. If you don't have any input on racing in Bahrain, I strongly recommend you go find someone else to bother.

— I just asked you your cat's name...

— And I can only imagine what you want with that, so please go bother the IT guys and let me get back to work.

Fernando sighed and stood up. He was staring at the cubicle wall again, but at a different point than before.

— Will you at least tell me your father's name? — he asked, pointing to the photo of her next to a man tinkering with a dismantled engine sitting on a table

— His name is Jamie. And he is not my father.

— No?

— He’s my grandfather. Now, go away.

Fernando pursed his lips and turned around, mumbling “have a nice day” as he left. Charlie put her headphones back on and tried to concentrate on the video she’d been watching again. However, her coldness did not cause Fernando to give up, quite the contrary. It seemed that Charlie's reluctance to interact with him made him try even harder to get closer to her, to breach the walls she’d put up for him. Little did Charlie know that he would eventually succeed.

It happened on a two-day trip to Jerez, Spain, for annual tyre testing for Pirelli. Fernando had taken the entirety of the first day of testing, while Lance would take the second. It was tiring to spend a whole day at the circuit, but Charlie thought it was better than alternating half-days like Mercedes had planned to. 

— Fernando — Charlie called, waving him over to the pit wall. He was talking to Edoardo, one of his physiotherapists, and made a gesture with his hand that looked like a phone back to him as he walked over the pit lane. He tied the sleeves of his green race overalls around his waist, leaving his white fireproof undershirt visible. Charlie couldn’t help but notice the way it was sticking to his skin. 

— Yeah? — he asked, causing Charlie to notice where her eyes were. She swallowed hard and scrambled to remember what she wanted to talk to him about, blurting out a question instead.

— Are there any problems?

He smiled.

— Well, my sister said she would be here to watch testing, but she missed her flight, so we were trying to get her re-booked to try and get her here this afternoon.

Charlie nodded, looking again at the computer screen in front of her, trying to find the telemetry that she remembered that she wanted to discuss with him. However, Fernando had other ideas.

— Do you have siblings?

— In theory — she muttered.

— What do you mean, ‘in theory’?

Charlie sighed and rolled her eyes.

— I have two younger brothers, but I think I've seen them two or three times in my entire life, so…

— You were raised by your grandparents.

Charlie glanced at him, a bit startled by how he’d deduced that. 

— How did you know that? — she asked quietly.

— It was more of a guess, since you have a picture with your grandfather in the office — he said, leaning his elbow on the pit wall’s rail — What about your father?

— I don’t know who he is — Charlie replied.

— But, how? — he asked. He sounded almost indignant at the idea — Your mother…

— My mother never told me who my father is, as she said that she doesn't like to “remember the mistakes of her youth” — she said, trying to tamp down the irritation in her voice — Now we can concentrate on your telemetry and not about who fucked my mother?

Fernando smiled like he was trying to stifle a giggle.

— As you wish — he said, resting his hand on his hip and turning his attention to the screen.

The day of testing seemed endless, with Pirelli technicians insisting that they test all available compounds and asking for feedback on their performance. The fact that Fernando was also in the process of adapting to the car didn't make Charlie's task any easier, because he also wanted feedback on the times he was doing and where he could improve his lap times.

However, after 130 laps and a rather uncomfortable journey back to the hotel, she was excited to have a shower, lie in bed, and read the book she had brought with her — an autobiography of an actress who discussed the relationship with her mother. It had been a suggestion from Hannah, her therapist, as a way for them to begin exploring issues surrounding Charlie's upbringing, and from what she'd read on the flight to Jerez, it was a very good place to start.

However, Fernando thought it would be a good idea to take the team to an authentic Spanish bar as a way for him to get to know everyone better. And, if she knew her colleagues, they would never turn down a chance to relax and drink, especially with a two-time Formula 1 world champion picking up the tab.

— And you, Charlie? — the driver asked, smiling — Are you coming with us?

— No, thank you.

— Why not?

— I just think there are better ways to enjoy my night than watching you get drunk with your mechanics and having to drag you back to your hotel at the end of the night.

He laughed.

— First, it's Checo who likes to get drunk, not me. But I understand the confusion, since we both speak Spanish and for you Brits, we are all the same.

Charlie opened her mouth to protest, but Fernando continued.

— Second, I'm pretty sure I don't need anyone to drag me back to the hotel unless they have a very good reason to. And finally, it seems like you need to relax. This is your chance.

— I'm fine, thanks — she murmured, looking out the window of the briefing room, crossing her arms.

— I can see that — he said. He clearly wasn’t convinced — We’ll meet in the lobby at eight.

As the group walked through the streets, following Fernando, Charlie ruminated on the fact that the driver seemed to know that she would change her mind and join the group in the hotel lobby. She’d prepared a lame excuse, and could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but to Fernando’s credit, he didn’t rub it in her face. All he said was that he was grateful that he had his entire team there. 

The procession squeezed its way down narrow streets, everyone chatting and laughing as they walked. Charlie condemned herself for not bringing a jacket or jumper, feeling chilled in the late February air. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Fernando led the group to a dark wooden door, opening it to let everyone else in ahead of him. Charlie glanced at the sign affixed to the wood as she stepped inside.

— Tabanco La Pandilla — she said softly. The scent of sweet wine and something that reminded her of the ocean filled her nostrils, and the interior of the bar reminded Charlie strongly of typical English pubs, though with undoubtedly Spanish features in the architecture and the decor. The walls were covered in vintage posters for bullfights and black and white photos from around Jerez, elegant handwriting in the corners of them indicating the place and date they were taken.

— Charlie — someone called out. She looked away from the photo she was poring over and she saw Raúl sitting in a corner — Come sit here.

As she approached the table, she realized that there weren’t many vacant chairs to choose from, since Mikey and the mechanics were already occupying most of them. Almost all of them, apparently, as she had chosen the one that Jimmy, the team’s social media admin, had already claimed. 

— That one is free — the mechanic said, pointing to the sole remaining empty chair.

It was the one right next to Fernando.

Heaving a sigh, she made her way over to the chair, settling down silently with a serious expression on her face. Charlie could feel Fernando’s eyes on her, which made her feel unsettled. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and looked at it in an effort to distract herself.

— You know it's not very polite to be on your cell phone when you're out with friends, right? — a male voice murmured beside her. When he looked up, he found Fernando with a small smile on his face.

— I was checking the time. 

— Do you have other plans later on?

— What if I do? — Charlie asked.

— I'm happy to keep an eye on the time so you can enjoy your evening — he replied, holding up his left wrist. He showed her the royal blue watch he was wearing, with a large square face, outlined in yellow. Inside, there were three bands in red, yellow and blue, which were the base of the hands, while all the black and silver internal gears were visible behind the face.

— A Richard Mille? — she asked. She would recognize his watches anywhere. When she was with McLaren, the brand signed a sponsorship deal with the team. It obliged all of the trackside staff to wear the watches given by them, a special model with the orange strap and black dial.

— Yes, RM 67-02 — Fernando said with a smile — Richard designed it exclusively for me, based on the colors of my helmet. We even partnered up last year and developed one based on the armor worn by the Samurai…

— It's awful — Charlie said, dryly, cutting him off.

— What? — he said, shocked.

— Let's face it, Richard Milles are terrible watches. They’re over-the-top, you can hardly read the dials, they’re huge and heavy on your wrist, and a lot of them look like children’s toys anyway, which, considering how expensive they are... They’re all flash and no substance. 

— I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to disagree with you...

— As always — she murmured.

— Richard's designs are well thought out and not at all cluttered, plus the colors are really nice and the size seems ideal to me.

— You never had to wear that awful watch he made for McLaren — Charlie replied.

— Of course I did. We all got one of those in 2017, don't you remember?

She was about to respond when one of the owners of the place approached the table. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a wide, excited smile on his face.

— ¡Bienvenidos a nuestro tabanco! ¡Es un honor recibirlos aquí! — the man said. Fernando smiled at him politely. 

— Les agradecemos por estar disponibles para recibirnos hoy — Fernando said — Tenemos muchas ganas de experimentar lo que tienes para nosotros hoy.

— Oh, estoy seguro de que les gustará lo que tenemos para esta noche. ¿Podemos empezar con las bebidas?

Raúl translated for the man — the owner, apparently — and everyone started to place their orders. After taking orders for a variety of beers and a shot or two of the famous Andalusian sherry, the man glanced at her.

— Y la señorita, ¿qué desea?

— He wants to know what you want — Fernando said.

Looking up at the man with the notebook in his hand, Charlie smiled.

— A Moscow mule would be excellent.

Suddenly, she heard laughter next to her.

— A Moscow mule? Charlie, you know you're in a tabanco, don't you? — Fernando said.

— Of course I do, I saw the sign.

— Then… You should know they don't have those kinds of drinks.

— What kind?

— You know, girly drinks.

Charlie clenched her jaw and pursed her lips, feeling rage creep up the back of her neck like a tingling wave under her skin. “Don't let him get inside your head”, Charlie recalled Lewis telling her. It was a mantra that she repeated sometimes when dealing with Fernando, a plea that she not lose control and slap him across the face.

But then, Fernando decided to provoke her one last time.

— If you don't know what to order, I can recommend a bar that's more to your tastes, one that has those kinds of girly cocktails.

Before Charlie realized what she was doing, she stood up abruptly and stormed away from the table, the protests of her colleagues becoming distant to her ears. Her throat felt tight and her eyes burned. Once again, he had disparaged her, calling the things she liked feminine, insinuating they were lesser, suggesting that she didn’t fit in.

As Charlie walked away from the bar, down the dimly lit street, tears began to stream down her face. She felt anger consuming her as she cursed at herself for not having some sort of comeback for Fernando, for not putting him in his place. She should have slapped him. Or even better yet, she should have called Mike and quit her job on the spot. She thought about what it would take for Fernando to be fired, realizing it would take something incredibly serious, nothing short of literal murder, more likely. 

— Stupid, stupid, stupid — Charlie muttered, as she continued walking down the street. She’d gone a fair distance before realizing that she had no idea where she was going. At some point she would have to get to the hotel. She glanced down at her phone, trying to open a map, until she walked into something.

She looked up from her phone and realized that she’d run into the back of a man, standing and chatting to two other men. They looked like they were in their twenties. They were each wearing jeans and puffer jackets. They were each holding a bottle of beer, and reeked of cheap cologne, booze, and cigarettes. As she stared at them, the man Charlie had bumped into smiled at her, but it was not a kind smile — it was a smile that made Charlie’s skin crawl and her stomach churn. 

— Miren lo que tenemos aquí — the man said, taking a swig from his bottle — ¿Estás sola, princesa?

Charlie took a step back and tried to swallow down her nerves. She had no idea what he said, or what to say in response. She knew very little Spanish, limited to a few greetings and how to count to ten, whatever she’d picked up from being with Carlos Sainz when he was with McLaren. The man repeated himself as Charlie visibly hesitated, stepping closer to her.

— ¿Qué es, princesa? ¿El gato te comió la lengua?

— Debe ser sorda, Pablo — the man on the right, with curly hair, said, with a laugh.

— No, ella puede oír. Me escuchas, ¿no? — he said, pointing to his ear. Charlie understood that it might be a question about listening, so she nodded, taking another step back — Ves, ella escucha.

— Pero no responde nada. Esa perra debe ser muda — the third man said, his voice deep and gravelly.

— Si es muda, mejor para nosotros — the curly-haired boy said, running his tongue over his lower lip — De todo modo, es hora del postre.

She could feel the adrenaline kicking in, making her feel hyper-aware of her surroundings. She wanted to run away, but she felt frozen on the spot as the men got closer, their eyes dark and sinister, murmuring things in a language she didn’t understand. She felt one of the men wrap his hand around her wrist, and understood what they wanted. Charlie knew she wasn't going to get rid of them until they got it.

— Vamos, princesa, no seas mala — the first man murmured, tightening his fingers around her arm — Si no, tendremos que utilizar la fuerza.

Fear had rendered Charlie unable to say anything. She couldn't scream, couldn't protest, couldn't call for help. With more tears streaming down her cheeks, she realized exactly what was about to happen to her, on some dark street in Jerez, all because she got into a fight with an asshole coworker.

She hadn’t expected this night — and maybe her life — would come to such a ridiculous and tragic ending.

— Cariño — she thought she heard someone say through the fog of dread that shrouded her mind. Her throat was getting tighter by the second, and she could feel a nervous sweat breaking out across her lower back — ¡Espérame, cariño!

The words seemed to have a repelling effect on the men who were surrounding her, their expressions startled as they watched someone approach behind her. "This is a trap, I’m so fucked", Charlie thought, gasping when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She was about to try to run before she realized who had been calling her name. Fernando stepped in front of her, his expression mixing relief and concern.

— Por favor, mi amor, nunca vuelvas a hacer eso — Fernando said, cradling her face gently in his hands, his thumbs caressing her cheeks — Nunca, nunca más. Casi muero preocupándome por ti.

He pulled her into a tight hug, nestling her head in the crook of his neck, cradling the back of her head with one of his hands. Wrapped in his arms, Charlie felt a whirlwind of emotions. Her confusion only grew when he whispered in her ear in English, requesting that she follow his lead and not say anything.

As the man that grabbed Charlie’s wrist backed further away, Fernando returned to run his hand through her hair, tenderly.

— Perdóname, mi ángel, realmente fui un idiota contigo. Pero no salgas así, sin rumbo. No sé qué haría si te hubiera perdido, mi corazón — he said, planting a kiss on Charlie's forehead before hugging her again, his hand resting on the back of her head — Gracias por encontrar mi novia. No sé qué sería de mí sin ella.

If the three men said anything in response, Charlie didn't hear them. As Fernando held her close, her face buried in the white sweatshirt Fernando was wearing, she forced herself to focus on the sound of his heart pounding against his chest instead. Being in such close proximity to someone she didn’t like was strange. It was even stranger to her that she wasn’t feeling annoyed, or even disgusted with such close physical contact with him. What she felt then, wrapped in his arms, wasn’t anger, but safety and relief. 

— Gracias, buenas noches — he said, before pulling away slightly to look into Charlie's face. She could feel that her tears had smeared her mascara — Vamos, cariño.

As Fernando led her down the street, still holding her hand, she felt like she was having some strange out-of-body experience. She was just a spectator, unable to act or intervene. Walking next to her, Fernando seemed to be talking on the phone with someone, but the way her pulse pounded in her ears stopped Charlie from being able to tell who she was talking to or what they were discussing.

— Necesito que vuelvas al hotel ahora. Por favor, no puedo explicar por teléfono. Charlie está bien, dile esto al resto del equipo y que se queden al tabanco y disfruten de la noche. Si, te espero. Hasta luego — Fernando said, before putting the cell phone back in the back pocket of his jeans — Are you okay, Charlie?

— Yeah — she replied in a whisper.

— I'm taking you back to our hotel, okay?

— Okay — Charlie said, finally managing to find her voice. She felt a strange, pleasant heat rising around her shoulders. It was a welcome relief in the chilly night air that prickled at her skin, even under her thick woolen sweater.

The rest of the walk to the hotel was a blur. Neither her or Fernando said anything. There wasn't much to say. She was still processing what had almost happened that night, all because she was unable to keep her anger in check, especially where Fernando was concerned. However, contrary to what she expected to feel, given the situation, she didn't feel angry with him.

The only thing she felt was guilty.

As they got to the hotel lobby, Charlie spotted Edoardo standing by the reception desk, looking at his phone. When he looked up and saw the two of them there, the expression of concern on his face changed to relief.

— Thank God you're here. Are you all right, Charlie? What happened? Can I help?

— Edo, I'll explain later — Fernando said. He cut himself off as soon she placed her hand on his fingers, which were still on her shoulder.

— I'm fine — she replied, her voice hesitant — I just need to go to my room.

— Do you have your key? Those guys didn't steal anything, right?

— It's in my purse — Charlie said, running a hand over her cheeks, wiping away her tears with the back of her sleeve. 

The three of them rode the elevator to Charlie’s room in silence. Edo helped her find her key card and Fernando stepped into the room first, giving a cursory check before signaling to the other two to enter. Charlie trudged to the bed and sat down on the mattress, still in disbelief over the evening’s events. It replayed over and over in her mind. She shook her head, as if it could physically eject the memories of the men’s sinister, knowing smiles and the rough hand around her wrist.

— Here, drink this — she heard Fernando say from in front of her. She opened her eyes, and saw him bent over, a soft expression on his face as he offered her a water bottle. Without protesting, she drank the water, realizing how parched her lips and throat were. Then, she propped the bottle against her leg and looked up at him.

— Why?

Fernando blinked, confused.

— Sorry, I don’t understand.

— Why did you run after me?

He sighed.

— My initial intention was to apologize and bring you back to the bar. But when I realized you were gone, I — he hesitated for a few seconds — I knew you didn't know the city and didn't speak the language, which, unfortunately makes you an easy target for bad people. I feared the worst, so I asked a guy that was in front of the bar which way you went and I followed.

— Why did you defend me from them?

— Because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something bad happened to you.

— But it was my fault...

— No, it's not. It's my fault, Charlie. I'm the one who was giving you a hard time, and made you react that way. I apologize for everything that happened today.

She couldn't deny that there was sincerity in the way Fernando was speaking to her and looking at her. His eyes were filled with obvious guilt. “Maybe he is actually sorry,” Charlie thought, sniffling.

— It’s alright. I'll be fine.

— You will be, I'm sure — he said quietly, before getting to his feet — Well, I'll let you rest. You go back to England tomorrow morning with the team, right?

— Yeah.

— Excellent. But if you need anything, message me. You have my number on Whatsapp right? I know you don't have Instagram anymore since I...

— Oh, I still do. I blocked you — Charlie muttered.

He stopped for a few seconds.

— You blocked me on Instagram?

— After your third or fourth request to follow me — she replied quietly.

— Ah — Fernando said, trying to disguise his discomfort with Charlie’s admission — Well, you know how to reach me. Good night, Charlie.

— Good night and — she paused for a few seconds, her eyes locked with his — Thank you. Honestly.

Fernando looked at her for a few moments, and then smiled.

— It was the least I could do — he replied, placing a hand on Edo's shoulder. His physiotherapist also wished her a good night before following Fernando into the hallway.

When the door closed, Charlie let out a heavy sigh, realizing the tension that had built up in her muscles. Perhaps a bath would help cleanse her body, and maybe, her soul of everything that had happened that night. There was one thing she needed to do before she did anything else, though. 

Removing her phone from her purse, she unlocked it and logged into Instagram. Going into the search bar, she typed in a name and found the correct account immediately. So Charlie tapped the blue button and then the confirmation that popped up on the screen. Finally, she clicked the 'follow' button, dropping her phone onto her bed. “Maybe he feels better now”, she thought, as she walked towards the bathroom.

That night, her sleep was disturbed by nightmares. The next morning, Charlie woke up to the sound of her cell phone alarm feeling more tired than she had been when she’d gone to bed. However, she couldn't afford to stay in bed any longer, as she had to be at the airport in an hour.

The trip back to the UK was uneventful, and she took the opportunity to sleep during the flight. On the way to Northampton, she shared a car with Mikey and three of Fernando’s other mechanics, all chatting animatedly about the results from testing, and what their hopes were for the season.

However, Charlie couldn't think about sectors, telemetry or lap times. All she could think about the previous night, how Fernando had suddenly appeared from the darkness and embraced her as if she were the most precious thing in the world, and not someone he hated.

She sighed, deciding that this was something she’d need to talk about with Hannah.

Her session with the therapist had been scheduled for that Friday, late afternoon. Charlie started therapy in early 2016 as a way to deal with the anxiety she had begun to suffer from after a miserable season with Fernando and his constant haranguing and requests that she be swapped for another engineer.

However, she hadn't been Charlie's first choice, as she believed that a psychologist specializing in sports medicine could best help her. However, one session with the one that McLaren kept on retainer was enough for the therapist to tell her that her issues ran deeper than performance anxiety, and that he would recommend a colleague of his. Fortunately, his recommendation proved to be the right one for her.

— Charlie? — Hannah said with a smile. She was standing in the doorway of her office, with her curly hair tied up in a kind of bun and wearing an orange suit that looked vibrant against the dark color of her skin — Shall we?

— Yes.

After entering Hannah’s office and settling into the white armchair, Charlie dropped her bag on the side table. Then she took a deep breath as her therapist settled into the chair across from her.

— So it's been some time since our last session, has it? About 10, 15 days?

— Yeah.

— Then I think you have plenty to tell me. Shall we start with the book I recommended?

— Actually — Charlie said — I wanted to talk about my last trip.

— Oh, you had a work trip, right? Where was it again?

— Jerez — she answered softly.

— Is that in Spain? — Hannah asked, and Charlie nodded — Oh, I imagine that was quite interesting considering your relationship with…

— I'm not sure if interesting is the right word, Hannah — Charlie said quietly. 

— Did something happen, Charlie?

— Well, not during testing. That bit all went as expected. But later, the night after testing was done, Fernando invited everyone to go to a bar.

— Everyone but you?

— No, he invited me as well, and I went. It was one of those traditional Spanish pubs that looks like a basement, I can't really explain it. But he and I ended up arguing because I ordered a Moscow mule, so I left.

— You argued over your choice of drink?

— He said it was a girly drink, that they didn't have that kind of stuff in that kind of bar, and he kept teasing me, so I lost my patience with him. But, after I left the bar, I ended up getting lost in the streets and I ran into — she paused for a few seconds — Some guys.

Hannah nodded, waiting for her to continue.

— They were drunk, speaking Spanish, but you could tell what they wanted. They cornered me, and I couldn't scream or call for help — Charlie's voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears.

— Did they do something to you?

— No, they did not. They couldn't because… Fernando followed me.

The therapist raised an eyebrow.

— But…

— He said he asked a guy who saw me leave the bar which way I'd gone and he went after me. He arrived, put his hands on my face and then hugged me. Then he said something to the guys and managed to get me out of there.

— And then what happened?

— We went to the hotel, where we found his physiotherapist, Edoardo. And the two of them went with me to my room. Then, Fernando gave me water and told me if I needed anything I could send a message that he would do his best to help me. I thanked him, and he said it was the least he could do, because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something bad happened to me.

Hannah opened her mouth, as if to say something, but then closed it again, her expression thoughtful.

— And what do you think about that?

— About what?

— About Fernando's attitude.

Charlie pressed her mouth into a thin line, trying to organize her thoughts.

— Well, all of my feelings are kind of contradictory. I'm surprised, since he hugged me, kissed my forehead, kept his arm around me while we walked back to the hotel, tried to calm me down the whole time, I realized that he's not being as nasty as he used to be. It's like he’s putting in an effort on his part to try to have a cordial relationship with me.

— So you notice a change in his attitude towards you?

— Well, a little? — Charlie answered, a little uncertainly. Noticing Hannah's expression, she corrected herself — Okay, yes, the change is considerable.

— And how does that make you feel?

— I'm still suspicious, I don't believe someone can change like that...

— Charlie, you haven't seen him on a daily basis in nearly five years. People can change in that time, even more so in a volatile environment like your job. You told me yourself that you’d noticed how Daniel Ricciardo changed from his first to his second year at McLaren and how that affected your team as a whole.

— But Danny never stopped being polite to us.

— And Fernando isn't being polite?

— Well, he is, but...

— Charlie — Hannah interrupted her — Have you ever thought that maybe your perception of Fernando might be changing?

— What do you mean?

— When we started our sessions, one of the first things we explored was your relationship with him. You were 27 years old, you were starting to become more established in your career and you were particularly disappointed because the driver you were excited to work with and thought was handsome was an asshole. But, I don't think you ever stopped to think that maybe he was disappointed too.

— Hannah…

— The point is, you're not the same now. You're 33 and he's over 40, right? You both have grown and matured. You’ve dedicated yourselves to other projects and dreams, as well as personal goals.

Charlie remained silent, trying to concentrate on her breathing.

— Just like you sometimes don't recognize that woman from 2015, who cried hiding in the paddock after Fernando said something rude, maybe Fernando doesn't recognize the guy that was yelling about GP2 engines and looking like an amateur — the therapist said — And that's okay. What I mean is, are you able to recognize that he is no longer McLaren Fernando, and are you open to meeting Aston Martin Fernando?

Charlie looked down at her hands, contemplating Hannah’s question. It was true that the Fernando she knew now was not the same Fernando she’d met in Woking. He was no longer the driver looking for a second chance in an older team, nor was he the frustrated veteran not given the proper tools to achieve his goals, but someone more mature, with more experience and, more than anything else, still hungry to win.

Just like her.

— I think I am.

#fa #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso fanfic #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula one x oc #formula 1 fic #nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

chapter eleven — noche fria

➝ a bet puts charlie and fernando's entire future at risk.

➝ word count: 4k

➝ warnings: mentions of race incidents, death, hospital

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie, @he-is-the-destined, @sunnytkm23 and @enaticosencantados as requested.

The last hour before the race was always the busiest. Mechanics and engineers were rushing back and forth, adjusting every detail so that both cars would be ready for the moment when the lights finally went out. However, for Charlie, that was the moment when she spoke to Fernando for the last time before he went to the car to get ready to do what he loved most.

She looked for Fernando, finding him with his overalls already done up to his chin. He was sucking down one of the nutritional supplement gels he always had before races. His head was down, like he was trying to mentally ready himself, but something about him looked sad, almost despondent. Charlie felt horrible about it.

After all, it was her fault.

Charlie didn't realize the true impact of her running away from him in Suzuka until she answered her phone late one night a week ago. Listening to Fernando, drunk and in tears, asking her why she couldn't be happy with him, was like having a knife stuck in her own chest. He didn't deserve to suffer because of her fear and insecurity.

Seeking courage where she didn't have it, she tried to calm Fernando down and tell him to drink some water and take something so he wouldn’t be so hung over the next day. In the end, it had been agreed that they would talk when they saw each other again, in Las Vegas. A week seemed like enough time for Charlie to figure out what to say to Fernando when the two of them were alone again.

“Forgive me for being a coward. Forgive me for being afraid of feeling something so overwhelming. Forgive me for not loving you like you deserve to be loved. Forgive me for not accepting that I deserve to be loved by you”, she mentally replayed every time their eyes met. However, Charlie hadn’t found the chance yet.

The week had been completely packed with engagements for both of them. While Charlie was focused on collecting data for the development of next year's car, Fernando had the tough job of promoting the race to the North American public. And that meant hours and hours of interviews, meetings with sponsors, lunches, dinners and brunches. Their schedules only matched at the engineering meetings and that certainly wasn't the right place to discuss their relationship.

The conclusion was obvious: they wouldn't have the time and peace they needed until after the checkered flag came down. That didn't help Charlie’s nerves, quite the contrary. The tension made her feel constantly on edge, feeling like she needed to vomit every time she remembered they’d need to have a serious talk about their relationship.  Something about the idea of Fernando not wanting anything to do with her anymore made Charlie want to cry.

“Focus”, she thought to herself, looking at the papers she had prepared in her hands with the last adjustments she had made to the strategies for the race. That was the last detail Charlie needed to go over with Fernando before he left the garage, but she was still hesitant. It was as if there was something wrong with the environment, something out of place that she couldn't say what it was but that disturbed her.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie walked to the corner of the garage where Fernando was standing, trying to ignore the nagging feeling inside her chest.

— Hi — she said, making the driver turn around suddenly.

— Hey — he murmured.

— I just wanted to go over today's strategies and confirm a few things before testing the radio.

Fernando nodded, dropping the supplement pack beside the helmet holder.

— Well, as we talked about, we will follow plan A, starting with mediums and changing to hard tyres in the window between laps 13 and 20. However, we have plan B, in case of safety car before 25 laps, which is a change to hards, and plan C, in case of safety car after 25 laps, that is a change to softs.

— What about my idea?

— Which one?

— Giving it everything during the first lap to gain positions — he said, running a hand through his hair.

— You know it's too risky, don't you?

— Why?

— Because no one has raced on this track before, Fernando. The tyres will be cold, there’s not much rubber on the track, it’s almost a needless risk.

— But if I don’t take the risk, I won’t be able to win.

— We can work with the pit stops, I'll talk to the people at the factory to confirm everything...

— Charlie, I'm taking my chances — he said, in a resolute tone — I'm not going to finish another race outside the points or worse, behind Lance.

She looked down at her feet, thinking of a compelling argument. In fact, starting the race in 11th was not a very encouraging prognosis, especially given the sequence of negative results that Fernando had been accumulating. After his victory in Japan, the driver only managed 8th place in Qatar, 10th place in Mexico, in addition to two retirements due to “imbecile” mistakes, as he’d called them. Fernando wanted to end the season like it started and he was willing to do anything for that, even taking a more aggressive stance than usual on the track.

— Okay — Charlie relented, looking up at him again — If you think that's the best option…

— I'm sure it's the best option — Fernando interrupted her, his face frozen in a serious mask, which made the driver look much older and stern. It made her miss his wide, mischievous smile, as well as his silly jokes.

— So we're going to give it everything on the first lap — Charlie said — I'll let the guys in Mission Control know and make sure the setup is right for the start.

— Okay — he replied, softly.

Charlie was about to turn around to head back to the engineering station when she felt something warm wrap around her hand. Looking down, she saw Fernando's fingers wrapping around hers. Then he gave her a gentle, almost discreet squeeze, and her chest was flooded with warmth.

The first time he had done that was at dinner with Flavio, when she was feeling anxious. When she questioned him about it, on the way back to Monza, Fernando stated that it was his way of saying he was with her, even if he couldn't say it verbally. Looking at him as he stood there, his eyes locked on hers, Charlie was sure that was what the driver had meant. He was with her. 

— Be careful — Charlie just said, before walking away from him.

After testing all the radio channels, she went over the updated start plan with the team based at the Technology Campus near Silverstone. Both them and Peter, the head of strategy at the pit wall, argued that this was not the best approach for the track, but Charlie defended Fernando's choice. She knew of his intelligence to carry out the attacks on the track and, therefore, she had complete confidence in the driver's capacity to recover the positions that he had not been able to get in the qualifying session.

— Okay, we are with him. After the first lap, we readjust the goal according to the positions gained on the track, okay?

— Perfect, Peter.

After checking which tires the other drivers would start the race with, Charlie opened the communication channel with Fernando again, looking at the window where the onboard of his car was.

— Fernando?

— Yes?

— Strategy confirmed your suggestion. We'll update you on the targets and times after the first lap.

— Understood.

— All drivers in front of you are on mediums. Behind you, only Hulkenberg, Ocon and Sargeant are in hards, they will probably try to lengthen the stint. The rest of the mediums will probably work with a single stop.

— Copy.

A few minutes later, the cars pulled out for the formation lap. As the AMR23 circled the almost artificial curves of the Las Vegas circuit, data began to appear on her screen.

— Starting the procedure, checking brakes — she said, seeing the green line on the telemetry graph in front of her drop, indicating he was slowing down — Now the five burn-outs.

After asking for one more brake to confirm that everything was ok, Charlie asked Fernando to be careful with the car's positioning on the starting brackets, as they had already given them quite a headache earlier that season. Then everything went silent inside her head, as it always did before the starts.

— Last car on the grid, last car on the grid.

Her focus was on the lights hanging in front of the drivers.

One, two, three, four, five.

And they went out.

The engines roared loudly, accelerating toward the first turn. Due to the short straight, there wasn't the mess she expected there, especially because it was a very tight hairpin. Going through the fast right-hand turn, he entered into the first straight, the green line skyrocketing on the telemetry graph.

— Okay, Fernando, strat seven, strat seven.

— Understood — he said, as he drove around the giant LED sphere lit up with the race logo.

With her eyes fixed on the screen with the lap times, the prognosis was encouraging, with Fernando having moved up four positions from the start and looking to close the gap to the Alpine of Pierre Gasly, who was making a great effort to defend his position on the curve that it was in front of the Palazzo Venetian.

— Gasly in front of you, distance 0.6, 0.6 — Charlie said, as the little green dot on her screen indicated he'd just entered the Strip — We don't have DRS yet, we don't have DRS.

— Copy — Fernando replied, while the line that indicated the car's acceleration went up as it passed through the track completely polluted by the city's luminous signs. The engine screeched in eighth gear, the speedometer indicating the car was in the 300 kilometers per hour range.

The distinctive outline of the replica Eiffel Tower at the Paris next was visible to the track, as well as the sign that was shaped like a hot air balloon. On the map, Fernando was approaching the end of the straight, glued to the Alpine, looking for the moment to overtake it.

Then Pierre slowed down to enter the chicane. But Fernando didn’t. 

In the blink of an eye, the car was airborne.

The onboard image showed the asphalt above the driver's head and the sky below, green bits of the carbon fiber fairing flying everywhere. So the track was below and the sky above and then vice versa, until the screen went black, indicating that the signal was gone.

— My God! — someone shouted, everyone on the pitwall gasped. Charlie heard nothing but eerie silence as the main broadcast showed Fernando’s car leaning against the protective barrier.

Charlie was frozen, her heart pounding.. In her ears, there was only the distant sound of the other cars, which had slowed down with the red flag that had been shown on the track. She couldn't react, couldn't do anything.

She was in complete shock from the image on the screen.

The AMR23 had become a twisted, unrecognizable mass of carbon fiber and metal. The only thing that indicated that it had been a car before was the two of the wheels, which were facing up. It was almost impossible to believe that, at some point, there could have been someone inside that completely destroyed chassis.

But there was.

“Fernando”, she thought, hurrying to open the radio channel.

— Fernando, can you hear me? Fernando? — she asked, waiting a few seconds for an answer. But Charlie heard nothing but her own heartbeat — Fernando, I can't hear you. I can’t hear you. Do you hear me?

More silence.

Through the screen, she could see the marshals approaching the car, their distant voices talking about leaking fluids and contacting the driver before pulling him out of the car for the medical evaluation. Something about that sentence made a lump form in Charlie's throat, and she pressed the button again.

— Fernando, I still can't hear you, I think you have some communication problem. If you listen to me, press the pit confirm button — she said, feeling her hands go cold, fear rising inside her. This couldn't be happening, not now, not like this — Please, pit confirm button. Please, Fer.

Silence.

Just silence.

The situation made her remember that Sunday afternoon in Australia, almost a lifetime ago. The sight of the black car spinning in the air accompanied by pieces of carbon fiber, styrofoam and gravel made Charlie sure that she had seen someone die in front of her. And worse than that, it was just the feeling of helplessness, of being unable to do anything but hold the air in her lungs as she waited for something she didn't even know what it was.

But once the dust had settled, Charlie was relieved to see the driver in the white overalls and tricolor helmet walk out of the shapeless mass that, a few minutes earlier, had been a car.

Fernando was alive. He was fine.

But unlike that day, there was no dust, no gravel. There was no driver. There was no relief. There wasn’t the word pit glowing green. There wasn't his voice saying he was fine. There was only debris strewn across the track, as well as a dozen marshals and the red medical car parked alongside. There was only anguish inside her.

“Come on, Fernando. Say something, please,” Charlie thought, as she felt her throat close in a tight knot. 

She couldn’t have lost him, not like this. She couldn't have watched Fernando leave without knowing that she felt the same way he did. She couldn't have let him go without hearing from her lips that she loved him.

And then, a ray of light lit up in the midst of the darkness.

Three of the marshals emerged from behind the ironwork, holding a white balaclava figure wearing a dark green jumpsuit through a series of straps used for rescues of that kind. Placed on an orange plank, she didn't need much to realize that Fernando was unconscious, the realization making her heart sink.

— Charlie — someone said beside her, the touch waking her from her nightmare-like trance. Turning her face, her eyes met Raúl's, who looked as worried as she did — Are you okay?

— Fer — Charlie stammered, feeling her eyes sting. The silence over the radio comms channels was deafening. It was the strongest sign that there was something wrong there — He needs me.

— What?

— He needs me — she repeated, ripping the headphones off her head and running across the pit lane without waiting for any authorization or offering justification. She wouldn't stand by while Fernando needed her by his side, after all she was his best friend. “The woman he loves”, she thought.

Racing down the halls of the paddock building in Las Vegas, with Alberto right behind her, everything was a big blur around her. In Charlie's mind, flashes of the first time she saw her grandfather cry came to mind. One of the saddest days of her life as a motorsport fan.

It was early evening in Northampton and the room was as quiet as the paddock. On the television in the living room, Steve Rider announced, in a somber tone, that Ayrton Senna had died that Sunday, in Imola. Charlie, a little girl at that day, got to see the crash earlier, but Jamie turned off the television shortly afterwards, saying it wasn't worth watching if Ayrton wasn't on the track.

Shock was evident on her grandfather's face. He was passionate about Formula 1 and even more about the Brazilian driver. As much as he had swapped the McLaren that Jamie loved so much for Williams, he was keen to remain a fan of the man and driver that Senna was.

— Grandpa, are you sad? — Charlie asked quietly, seeing his eyes glistening with tears.

— I am, my dear — he replied, sniffling.

— Why? — she asked, naively.

— Because I'm not going to see Ayrton anymore, dear.

— But, what happened?

Jamie gave a sad smile.

— He went racing with James in heaven, my love.

With her muscles burning with the effort she was making to get to the medical center, Charlie felt her eyes fill with tears. Fernando couldn't go race in heaven with James and Ayrton, as her grandfather had told her when she was a little girl. He couldn't die, not there, on that day, in that moment. He could only go when they were too old to think about cars. He could only go when they were living in a little house full of flowers overlooking Lake Lugano, when they had lived through everything they still needed to live together.

Their story couldn't — it wouldn’t — end like this

Both of them entered the circuit's medical center out of breath, finding the environment completely agitated. Apparently, Fernando had already been checked in, considering that the journalists present were crowded at the service desk, asking for more details about what was happening to the driver, until they realized that Charlie and Alberto were behind them.

She felt like a piece of meat thrown to piranhas. Everyone was on top of them, looking for a statement, a word, whatever it was they could offer at that moment. However, there was nothing to say. Not when her head only had one word, one face, one person.

— How is Fernando? — Alberto asked the receptionist, who seemed completely scared with the number of people there.

— Are you related to the patient?

— I'm his manager and she is — Alberto started to answer, hesitating for a few seconds, looking at Charlie with a sad expression. “He told him about Suzuka”, she thought.

— His race engineer.

— Oh, yes — the woman replied — Please come with me.

Led by her through the door that led to a narrow corridor, which continued with several doors distributed along it. Leading them along, she stopped beside a door whose sign indicated that it was an emergency room.

— I usually can't bring people here, but considering the reception is full, I think it would be easier...

— Where is he? — Charlie snapped, not allowing the woman to finish explaining. She didn't want to know why they were in the hall, she wanted to know how the love of her life was doing.

— Well, he's being examined right now...

— Is he okay?

— I just know that they were stabilizing him to do some imaging here. I can try to confirm some...

— Please check if you can — Charlie said without batting an eye.

The woman nodded before entering the emergency room, leaving her and Alberto alone in the hallway. The place was relatively quiet, the only sound being that of the journalists outside, reporting directly from the medical center. However, Charlie wasn't paying attention to their words, much less the movement of assistants and nurses through the corridor of the place. Her mind was there inside that emergency room, where there was probably a crowd around Fernando, working to save his life.

— Charlie? — Alberto asked, making her look at him.

— Yeah?

— Do you think Fer — he began.

— No — she cut him off, the image of a funeral coming to her mind. Charlie was sure she couldn't bear to see Fernando placed in a coffin, draped in the flag of Spain and Asturias, waiting for her to say goodbye. She'd rather die than endure the pain of living without him — He's fine.

— That was a bad crash, Charlie.

— Alberto — Charlie said bluntly — He's fine.

Silence stretched between them for long, agonizing minutes. It didn't make any sense to speculate what was going on inside the emergency room. All that was left was to wait for more information, trying to cultivate the hope that he was alive and, above all, well. She'd seen worse crashes where the drivers had come out mostly unscathed or with minor injuries. Grosjean's tank explosion in Bahrain or even Zhou's rollover at Silverstone had been worse than what had happened to Fernando. And they were both alive and well, pursuing their careers and their lives. But, they had left conscious of their cars, which had not happened with Fernando.

Everything pointed to the worst case scenario.

Then the woman came back through the door with a serious expression on her face.

— Is he okay? — Alberto asked anxiously.

— He has already been stabilized by the team, who have already carried out x-rays of his head and right leg…

— His leg? — Charlie questioned.

— He has a fractured ankle —  the woman said.

— Does he have any head injuries? — Alberto stopped her.

— At first we didn't find anything, but more detailed tests will be needed. They are preparing to transfer him to the hospital in the next hour.

— Which hospital?

— University Medical Center of Southern Nevada — she replied. That was all it took for Charlie to look at Alberto and, seconds later, leave the medical center, heading for the location indicated by the woman.

They had a chaotic trip to the hospital, both of them being questioned from all angles by journalists, hounded by photographers, and even personnel from other teams following after them, all in search of information about Fernando. Edo and Luis caught up to them, Charlie and Alberto drove the eight kilometers that separated the paddock building from the hospital in absolute silence. On the way, her mind continued to construct catastrophic scenarios, fear consuming her like an unrelenting wildfire.

The wait for news in the hospital lobby was long and agonizing. In a corner, Luis was talking to Fernando's father on the phone, while Edo and Alberto exchanged messages with Lorena and Fabri, respectively. Staring into the floor, Charlie felt completely alone at that moment. There was no one she felt safe with to share that pain, that despair, that fear.

Then, her phone vibrated in her pocket.

As she looked at the screen, Hannah's name glowed over the photo of Fernando holding Ron, who looked completely displeased with that. Touching the notification, Charlie's eyes filled with tears. “I saw what happened. Call me if you need to talk”, the message read.

Rising from the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room, Charlie moved to a corner, away from the eyes of the three men who had come with her there, and placed the call. After two rings, she heard her therapist's voice, calm and reassuring, on the other end of the line.

— Hi, Charlie.

— Hi — she said, softly, as she felt her bottom lip quiver.

— I saw what happened on television. How is he doing?

— I'm not sure, they talked about him being stable and a broken ankle and something in his head, but I didn't pay attention — Charlie replied, feeling tears run hot down her cheeks. She had finally broken down — I'm so scared, Hannah...

— Scared of what, Charlie?

— Of losing him. Of having to put on a black outfit and see him in a coffin, with everyone crying around him. I won't stand it, Hannah, I won't be able to live without him — she continued, sobbing — And he'll never know it because I'm a complete idiot! A dickhead, a coward...

— Charlie, listen to me — Hannah said, interrupting her self-flagellation session — You need to calm down and focus on what you know about his situation. He's stable, he has a fracture and is being examined to see if he suffered any head trauma. That’s all.

— No, that’s not all!

— I know it's easy to assume the worst, especially with the history of the sport, but you have to trust the doctors and the safety devices. I know you're not religious and you don't believe in energy or anything like that, but maybe it's time for you to think positive. He will get out of this.

She sniffed, wiping her face.

— He needs to come out of this, Hannah, or… I don’t know if I will, either. 

#fa #fernando alonso #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso x oc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #formula one x oc #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

chapter four — algo me gusta de ti

➝ after a choice that ends fernando's chances of a better position for the race on sunday, charlie is confronted by the driver. however, the discussion ends in a way she didn't expect.

➝ word count: 5,1k

➝ warnings: fighting (it that a warning at this point?), racing description

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

— Charlie, don't you think we should start our fast laps now?

— No, you can do one more warm-up lap — she replied, her eyes on the clock at the top of the screen. There were just under two minutes left in qualifying for the Miami Grand Prix, long enough for him to take another slow lap before another flying lap to chase after pole position and finish with just under 20 seconds to go. It was an ideal strategy, carefully developed by the strategy team, all to steal Checo's provisional pole position.

One more lap. A few more seconds.

She watched closely as Fernando followed at a slower speed, giving space for Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari to pass him at turn 9 on his flier. Then, as she took her eyes off of the GPS map to look at the broadcast, she felt her heart skip a beat.

The Ferrari was sliding out of control towards the turn 16 barrier, the crash causing those in the pit wall to let out a collective groan.

— Attention, yellow flag, yellow flag at turn six — she said, before sighing as she saw the color change from yellow to red — Red flag, slow down.

Without a response from Fernando, Charlie had to confirm with what the data coming from the car said as he drastically reduced his speed. She knew it was a gamble to release him so late from the pits to do his last laps of Q3. She sighed, knowing that she should have anticipated something happening with the slippery track and Leclerc’s crash during FP2 the day before.

— Nice and slow, keep the delta positive — she said, while staring at Fernando’s name on the timing screen — The session will not be restarted. So, it's a P8 for us today.

— Yeah, we're going to have to stick with that — he muttered. He sounded less than pleased.

Given his latest results, he had every reason to be dissatisfied.

After the fifth place in Bahrain, they left for Saudi Arabia with some optimism. After the debrief, the team found, in all of the data they’d gathered over the weekend, that the car had fulfilled all expectations, and in the right conditions, there was even more performance to be had.

Jeddah was like a dream. In each free practice, Fernando was in the top three, with his lap times being tantalizingly close to the Red Bulls. In qualifying, problems with Verstappen's gearbox and a penalty for Leclerc ensured that Fernando would start from second place during the Grand Prix.

The race had its own frustrations, with Fernando getting a penalty for the car being out of position within its starting box, and another for incorrectly serving the penalty during a pit stop in the race. The team argued their case before the FIA and managed to get the pit stop infringement penalty overturned, meaning Fernando’s third place was restored. Charlie was leaving the paddock when Fernando started a video call with her to tell her the good news. Seeing him smiling and satisfied with the result made something warm fill her chest.

Another podium came in Australia, after a race with two red flags and a collision involving Fernando's car that made Charlie’s stomach lurch as she watched it, but the car ended up being able to continue.

At the end of April, a good weekend in Baku solidified the third place for Fernando in the drivers’ championship along with Aston Martin moving up to second place in the constructors' championship.

But Miami was shaping up to be different. Qualifying in P8 on a track where overtaking after the start would be difficult was not very encouraging, but a solid pit stop strategy involving two long stints on the medium and hard tires would be key for Fernando to get valuable points that Sunday. There was rain in the forecast overnight, which would make starting on soft tires unfeasible because of the high degradation during Saturday’s sessions. 

Charlie jotted a few things down in her notebook before she left the pit wall to walk back to the paddock. On the way, she tried to think of how to tell Fernando why she wanted to delay his fast laps and hadn’t considered the possibility of a red flag. Maybe if she told him that Verstappen had to abort his fast lap, too, it may help… 

“Like he cares about that”, she thought to herself as she passed her credentials over the badge reader at the paddock’s entrance turnstile. All of the team motorhomes were assembled on the field of Hard Rock Stadium, which made for a unique paddock set up. After passing a group of McLaren mechanics and waving to Lee, an engineer with whom she had worked for a few years, she entered Aston Martin’s hospitality building, heading straight to the second floor, where was the engineering office, the place they  gathered for the debriefs.

Ben and Lance were already in the office. It wasn’t surprising given that Lance had been eliminated in Q1. They were discussing the decision not to put new tires on his car, which jeopardized his attempt to gain a higher position on the grid. Charlie sat down across from them and opened her notebook, checking the notes she'd taken during qualifying and trying to ignore the tension building in her shoulders.

When Fernando came in with Dan, Charlie could see his displeasure plainly on his face. She was bracing herself for another explosion, just as it was during the McLaren-Honda days. It was a creeping, sickening deja-vu, waiting for his commentary on her poor strategy decisions and how her plan had been too risky. However, he wasn’t chatting to Dan about any of that. Instead, they were chatting about the relative effectiveness of the AMR23’s DRS.

“This is it. This is the calm before the storm”, Charlie thought, scribbling something in her notebook about factors to consider before suggesting plan B during the race. She did everything she could to avoid catching Fernando’s gaze.

 The debrief ended with no outbursts or tantrums from Fernando, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. As she stood up to leave, her thoughts turned to going back to her hotel room, ordering room service for dinner, and maybe watching last year’s Miami GP and taking more notes.

— Charlie? — she turned around to see that Fernando was on his feet, adjusting his green cap on his head. He was still wearing his overalls, but the collar was open and the zipper was pulled down to the middle of his chest.

— Yeah?

— Can we talk?

— Of course — Charlie replied, trying to hide her nervousness — What do you need?

— Come with me — he said, brushing past her and leaving the engineering office. As she followed behind him, Charlie couldn't shake the sickening feeling that she knew what was about to happen, even more so when Fernando opened the door to his drivers’ room and gestured for her to step inside. 

She had entered several drivers’ rooms over the years, but this is the first time she had been in Fernando’s since he came over to Aston Martin. The room was one of the simpler, more basic ones she’d seen. There was a small desk with his laptop, a chair, a sofa and a kind of small wardrobe open in the corner, with his backpack and his regular clothes inside. The only thing on the wall was a poster of the AMR23. She was surprised. His drivers’ room when he was in McLaren was a bit more decorated, with the flags of Spain and his home province of Asturias adorning the walls. 

When Charlie heard the door close behind her, she felt her shoulders tense. Fernando stepped back around her, pulling his arms out of the sleeves of his overalls so he could take it off.

— Well, what did you want to talk about? — she asked, thinking about how naive she sounded.

— You know what I want to talk about, Charlie — Fernando replied, picking up a bottle of water that was on the table. He leaned back against it as he opened it and took a long drink, all without taking his eyes off of her.

— Is it about your fast lap?

— If you can call that a fast lap — he said, drying his mouth with the back of his hand.

— It was a warm-up lap.

— The third in a row, when I could have done a fast lap and improved my time — he said dryly.

Charlie sighed.

— It was a strategy...

— A strategy that didn't work.

— Because of Charles — she answered immediately.

— You should have known he was going to do something wrong, Charlie. He was having problems with the rear of the car, I saw it when he passed me.

— You could have told me that.

— Why didn’t you see it on my onboard? Weren’t you watching it?

Charlie laughed in disbelief.

— Yes, I was looking at the onboard, but I was also looking at the brake telemetry, temperatures, everyone else’s times, engine readings, the status of your car, and talking to you at the same time.

— Well, you should have paid attention to my onboards so you can see what I see. 

— I could say the same about many things, Fernando, but I know you're doing several things at the same time...

— But you ask for things anyway — he said.

— Because if I don't ask, your car breaks down and I'm the one who has to listen to you whining.

He snorted, running a hand over his face.

— Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because the weekend is over, Charlie. Your so-called strategy has made it so this entire weekend is just going to be a waste of everyone’s time.

— Do you want me to apologize? — she asked, trying to stay calm — Is that it? You're making this whole speech because you want me to apologize to you?

— No, Charlie. Your apologies are of no use to me now. Your apologies are not going to get me on the podium tomorrow, or even make me score points. Your apologies won't make me a champion again.

— Who ever said you’re going to be a champion again, Fernando? — Charlie muttered. It was reflexive, almost automatic. 

Fernando’s eyes shot to hers, his expression going rigid.

— I did. I said it. I'm going to be champion again — he replied — But only if you stop making strategy calls that hinder me instead of helping me.

— The only thing that hinders you, Fernando, is your ego. If you don’t keep it in check, you'll never lift that trophy again at the end of the year in Paris.

His nostrils flared. Charlie had found his Achilles heel. She felt a sense of immense satisfaction. She knew she shouldn’t continue digging deeper, but a voice in the back of her mind pleaded with her to not pass up the opportunity to hit him where it hurt, as justice for the years of misery he’d caused her.

— It's not a matter of ego, Charlie, and you know it. I am the hardest working driver on the entire grid…

— That's what you think, right? I’ve heard every driver say that — she interrupted him, crossing her arms — But you’re not any better than anyone else.

— I'm better than everyone. I’m the most complete driver out of all twenty of us, I…

— Are you? If you're so good, then why did you lose to a rookie in 2007? — she asked. Now that she’d gotten her claws in, it seemed like it would be difficult to stop. 

— Everyone knows that asshole Dennis favored Hamilton…

— And then what? When you returned to Renault, why couldn't you beat him then? Why did it take Flavio bribing your teammate into crashing out in Singapore to get you on the podium?

The memory of the 2008 scandal made him visibly clench his teeth. Now, Charlie was just playing dirty, but it was intoxicating. The voice in the back of her head urged her on, to give him a dose of his own poison, to make him feel like she did on that fateful afternoon in Montreal.

— You have to have a lot of audacity to say that you are the best while sharing the grid with Lewis — she continued, taking a step forward to face him — He’s the greatest driver of all time, but not only that, he’s a better teammate than you are. He’s better than you at everything.

— Charlie...

— He's better than you in and out of the car, better in the simulator, better than you personally and professionally. He’s even better than you in bed! — she exclaimed, without thinking. She cursed at herself. She’d gone too far. Her desire to damage Fernando’s ego had gotten ahead of her mouth, and she knew it when she watched Fernando’s expression change from anger to surprise.

— How do you know that? — Fernando asked, the shadow of a smile creeping over his face.

She blinked, transfixed. It wasn't like she actually knew what Lewis was like in bed, after all, she had never had anything more than a professional relationship with him. She’d never had any relationships with any drivers, and it was for a good reason, especially working as a woman in a male-dominated environment.

At the same time, though, she wasn't deaf to the rumors running through the paddock. It wasn’t like Charlie enjoyed gossip, but it was nearly impossible to ignore the whispered conversations the caterers and cleaning staff had during off-peak hours in the motorhome, but admitting that to Fernando would be the end of whatever remained of her credibility.

— You shouldn't talk about things you don’t know anything about, Charlie — he said quietly, in the face of her silence.

— But I do… Know — she replied, trying to hide her nervousness when she realized how close he was to her.

— You mean you fucked him? — Fernando asked. The way he’d asked was clearly a challenge.

— Yes — Charlie lied, trying to keep her voice steady. However, she couldn't help noticing how fast her heart was beating inside her chest, or how her eyes insisted on drifting down to his lips — And he's very good.

— Oh, he is? Tell me more.

She felt her mind freeze for a few seconds.

— I'm not going to talk about this with you.

— Why not? — he asked, smiling.

— Because I don't owe you any explanations about my sex life.

— Considering you're making assumptions about my sex life, I think I have a right to know what you consider good sex.

Charlie felt her cheeks heat up.

— He's good — she just replied.

— Did he make you come? — Fernando asked bluntly. A wave of heat raced over Charlie's skin as soon as the word left his lips.

— Like I said, he's really good, unlike you.

— You never fucked me, so you wouldn’t know whether I'm good or not.

— Well, I don't need to.

— Oh, I think you do, Charlotte.

In that split second, it was as if a video tape had been rewound in her mind. Staring into his eyes, Charlie remembered the first time she'd spoken with him, on a cold January morning eight years ago. The image of him, with a well-tailored gray suit and his dark, combed-back hair, was seared into her mind. She remembered perfectly what she had thought when she saw him enter her sector, a wide smile on his face as he shook her hand as Ron Dennis introduced them. 

“Handsome”, she thought. And there, standing inches away from her, with the sleeves of his overalls tied around his hips and his dark green baseball cap over his brown hair, he looked the same way.

Handsome.

Another voice came to the back of her mind, making a not-so-subtle suggestion of what she should do. 

So, Charlie did.

Putting her hands on Fernando's face, she pulled his body against hers, their lips colliding in a rough, passionate kiss, completely devoid of any delicacy. The touch ran through her body like an electric shock, sharpening her senses immediately. The faint scent of the cologne he'd put on before heading out on the circuit seemed to have mingled with something Charlie could only classify as his own, delicious and uniquely his.

Her hands slid from his face to the back of his neck, while her lips parted to allow her to taste Fernando. He was sweet and salty and sour all at the same time, as if all facets of him had combined into the lips of the man she was kissing. Her thoughts were an irrational jumble, Charlie realized, but there was nothing rational about the situation.

With her pulse roaring in her ears, she barely noticed when her back hit the wall, much less when Fernando's hands went down her waist towards the skirt she was wearing. Pulling the green fabric up haphazardly, he pressed his fingers into the skin of her ass, pulling Charlie’s hips flush to his. Feeling her nails dig into his skin, she continued that hungry, almost desperate exploration. It was as if one were the air the other needed to breathe, the surface in that sea of unresolved arguments and feelings.

Charlie only realized she was out of breath when she felt Fernando's lips leave hers, trailing down her jaw, nibbling on her skin. He wasn’t touching her like someone with a point to prove, but like someone who had achieved a goal. Someone who had finally gotten what he wanted.

— Did he do this to you, Charlie? — Fernando asked, in a low voice, his hot breath making her skin crawl — Did Lewis kiss you like this?

— No — she replied, sighing as she felt him bite her earlobe.

— Did he touch you like this?

— No — Charlie said, hands sliding through his hair, his Aston Martin cap long since fallen to the floor.

— So he didn't fuck you — he said, as his lips trailed down her neck — He didn’t give you anything close to what you deserve.

— What I deserve — she murmured, reflexively. There was no room for any coherent thought in the rising fever in her mind. There was only one thing that Charlie could see in his dilated pupils, when he lifted his face from the crook of her neck.

Desire.

— A real fuck — Fernando murmured, his lips brushing hers — With someone who knows exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to make you moan, how to make you come. Someone like me, nena.

Charlie stopped suddenly, eyes fixed on his face. Her mind was in a whirlwind of thoughts, guilt mixing with the adrenaline that was coursing through her body. “What have I done?”, she thought, as he brushed his nose lightly against hers, mumbling something she didn't understand.

— Puedo hacerlo todo. Puedo hacer lo que quieras. Sólo dime que sí, nena.

Fernando, the man who had said in more ways than one that he couldn’t stand her, was telling her that he knew how to touch her, how to kiss her, how to make her moan, how to make her come. Of all people, it was him. The man she hated, the man who had almost made her give up on her dream of succeeding in motorsport. The man she had just kissed, because she couldn't resist her own desire to have him for herself, to try those lips and feel his tender touch.

Him. Why him?

Taking her hands to Fernando's shoulders, she pushed him lightly, in a gesture for him to move away. "I couldn't have done that", Charlie repeated mentally, while trying to adjust her green skirt, which was now horribly wrinkled from being hiked up to her hips.

— Charlie? Are you okay? — he asked.

— Leave me alone — she snarled, before quickly storming out of the room, ignoring his protests and slamming the door behind her. A few steps later, Charlie stopped in the middle of the hallway and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and trying to calm her own heart that was beating fast in her chest.

Charlie couldn't understand what had just happened. She couldn't understand how that discussion about winning or not winning the championship turned into sensual whispers about how he would make her come like she deserved, into him biting and kissing her neck.

The idea of having sex with Fernando, even a few weeks ago, sounded like an absurdity. However, at that moment, it no longer seemed like something impossible or ridiculous, but something Charlie actively desired. She wanted to touch him, wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to hear the whisper that would make her moan and see the expression on his face when she achieved his goal.

Putting a hand to her face, Charlie grunted in frustration. “Stop it, Charlotte, stop it, stop it!”, she condemned herself. She couldn't and shouldn't think about that. They hated each other. She hated him. She hated him deeply. Or should.

— Joder! — she heard Fernando yell, followed by a loud, heavy sound, like a fist hitting a table. It was the signal Charlie needed to head back into the engineering office to get her things before heading back to the hotel. She didn’t say anything to anyone, and ignored someone she knew waving to her. She walked through the paddock like a woman on a mission, but her head was elsewhere. All she could think about was what had happened minutes before, how she was filled with Fernando's scent and taste. “I need a shower, urgently”, Charlie thought, as she ordered an Uber on her phone.

If she expected to sleep that night, she was wrong. Anxiety kept her eyes open, glued to the hotel room ceiling. Charlie had thousands of questions in her head. Why had she pulled Fernando against her? Why had she kissed him? Why had she allowed him to touch her? Why didn't she back off? Why had she liked it?

As she was ruminating over the kiss, Charlie saw the sun rise over Miami Beach.

Sunday passed in a blur. She was making such an effort to stay awake and focused on that afternoon's race that she had practically mentally isolated herself from everything around her. Charlie didn't see anything related to the start of the day, not even the much-talked-about entry of the driver at the start of the opening ceremony.

Facing Fernando was the strangest part. They met by chance at the door of the engineering office. Meeting his eyes, Charlie felt her heart jump in her chest, a shiver crawling over her skin.

— Good morning — he murmured, standing in front of her.

— Good morning — she managed to reply, before dodging the driver and heading for the garage.

After a good start by Fernando allowed him to gain some positions, the race no longer had any emotion. In fact, it was so boring that Charlie heard the driver commenting on Lance's overtake that he saw on one of the trackside screens. Lance was fighting for a points place, but Fernando managed to finish third after an otherwise uneventful race. As he crossed the finish line, she felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders.

— Yeah, P3 today. Very good — she said, her voice flat.

— Very good, guys. It was a lonely race, but we can deal with that.

She didn't watch the podium ceremony or even join the group for team photos with the trophy. The debrief was quick and more focused on Lance than Fernando. As soon as the meeting ended, Charlie got up and left the room, not looking back, even as she thought she heard someone call her name. 

Back in her hotel room, she laid down on the bed and let out a heavy sigh. It felt like she’d been holding her breath since she’d left the track. Charlie felt suffocated, as if she were drowning in her own doubt and fears.

Whenever she felt like this, she knew there was one person she could turn to.

Charlie picked up her phone and tapped on the name in her contacts list. As she listened to the insistent rings, she made a mental calculation of the time zone and mentally condemned herself. It was well after midnight in the UK, not a good time for a phone call. However, someone must be awake, as, seconds later, she heard a sweet voice on the other end of the line.

— Good evening, my dear — Amanda, her grandmother, said. Charlie could tell from her voice that she was smiling, even if she did sound tired — How are you?

— Hi, grandma, good evening. I'm fine, and you?

— I'm fine too, just a little sleepy.

Guilt surged through Charlie's chest.

— Sorry I called so late, I forgot about the time difference…

— It's okay, my love, I've been waiting for you to call. You know I don't sleep without talking to you first.

She smiled. Her grandmother had been the woman she had always considered as her mother. It was Amanda who smiled along with her in happy moments and dried her tears at the difficult ones. It was Amanda who had taught Charlie to love math, and who encouraged her to apply for the work experience at McLaren while she was in university, even though Charlie thought the chances of her getting the placement seemed slim.

— Your grandfather watched the race today — the grandmother continued — He said that driver of yours did well, despite starting down the grid.

Something in Amanda's words made her lips purse.

— Yeah, he did well today — Charlie just said.

She couldn’t think of anything to fill the silence for a few seconds.

— Honey, did something happen? — her grandmother asked.

— No, grandma, nothing happened — she hastened to say.

— Are you sure?

— Yeah, I'm just tired — she said, trying to sound convincing.

— Charlotte Elaine, I've known you long enough to know when you're lying, and right now, I'm sure you're lying to me. Is something going on?

Charlie let out a long, frustrated sigh. She didn't like discussing personal matters over the phone in the best of cases, and this was not the best of cases. However, her grandmother would never let her hang up the phone without saying what was bothering her.

— Darling, please — Amanda insisted, again.

— It's just — she hesitated for a few seconds — I kissed a guy.

— Oh, really? — the grandmother said. She sounded interested — And was it good?

Charlie felt her heart jump in her chest. She didn't know which word to choose to describe what had happened in that room. It hadn't been a simple make-out session that could happen in any corner of the paddock or in any Miami nightclub, but something different. There was emotion there. There was feeling. And she didn't know how to deal with it.

— It was normal, I guess.

Amanda laughed on the other end of the line.

— Clearly it wasn't normal, considering you’re acting very strangely

— I'm not acting strangely, grandma...

— Speaking hesitantly, carefully — her grandmother continued — Is the boy there with you now? Tell him to take good care of you, huh?

— Grandma — Charlie exclaimed, feeling her cheeks heat up — He's not here with me, in fact, I don't even know where he is right now...

— How do you not know where he is? You didn't go to a party on a work weekend, did you? You know these trips are for work, right, Charlie?

She pressed her hand into her face. 

— No, grandma, I didn't go to a party. He only left after the race in his jet, no big deal.

— Jet? He’s rich, then?

Charlie sighed. There was no way out of it.

— Grandma, I kissed Fernando.

— Fernando, which Fernando?

— Alonso.

— The driver?

— Yes.

— Wait, your driver?

— Yes.

Silence reigned on the line for a few seconds.

— And how did that happen? — Amanda asked.

"If only I knew", she thought, sitting up in bed.

— We were in his room in the motorhome, we started talking, and it happened kind of unexpectedly.

Charlie heard her grandmother giggle.

— Well, is he handsome, at least?

— You've seen him on television.

— You know these drivers all look the same to me, the only one that stands out is Lewis, for obvious reasons.

— Okay, grandma — Charlie replied — He's good-looking.

— How good-looking?

— Like, a little taller than me, has a beard and dark hair — she described, trying to ignore the shiver that crept across her skin — His eyes are light brown, with a smudge of green near the pupil. They are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen...

— Got it — Amanda said — And is he a good kisser?

— Grandma! — she exclaimed.

— I just want to know, Charlie! But something tells me he is...

— Please, grandma...

— Come on, tell me. Was it good?

She pressed her lips together, resting her head on her free hand.

— Yes, grandma, he's good. Very good.

— Wow, so it’s serious!

— It wasn't, grandma. It was just a casual thing, nothing major...

— Considering you’re calling me this late, I don’t think it was that casual — Amanda replied, the smile coming to her voice again. She was definitely more excited about it than Charlie.

— Even if I thought it wasn't casual, he probably thinks it was, so it's no use getting your hopes up.

— Are you telling this to me, or to yourself?

— I’m telling you, grandma — she replied, trying to hide her annoyance — By the way, shouldn't you be sleeping?

— Perhaps, but it's much more interesting to hear you recount your adventures around the world. By the way, are you coming home this week? Ron misses you already.

Charlie smiled at the mention of the cat. He always stayed with her grandparents when she was traveling, especially during double and triple headers, when it became impossible to get back to England between races. Fortunately, Ron liked Jamie and Amanda enough to feel comfortable in their home.

— I will, grandma. I leave tomorrow in the middle of the day, but I won’t get back until Tuesday afternoon, if I don't have any delays.

— Is it that long of a flight? 

— No, it’s not too long, but I have to get two connections. One in Montreal and another in Frankfurt. Then an hour's drive from Birmingham and I'll finally be home.

— Do you want to have dinner with us, since you're going to have to stop by the house to pick up Ron?

Charlie smiled.

— Ah, that would be excellent, grandma. I miss your food.

— I thought you liked American food — Amanda said, laughing.

— It is, but nothing compares to yours — she replied, making her grandmother laugh. That was one of the best sounds in the world for Charlie.

— I can make that pot pie you like, the one with the beef, with extra potatoes. 

The memory of the smell of pies baking in Amanda’s kitchen made Charlie smile fondly. 

— I'd love to, grandma — she replied.

— And in return, you can tell me more about this Fernando Alonso, what do you think?

— Are you blackmailing me?

— Just trying to stay informed regarding the state of your relationships, my dear.

She laughed in disbelief. 

— It’s not a relationship, grandma, and it never will be. 

#fa #fernando alonso #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso x oc #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one fic #f1 x oc #nordswrites

[nordschleifes]

extra — que me paso?

➝ fernando is heartbroken. but the show must go on.

➝ word count: 3,7k

➝ warnings: alcohol consumption, angst, puppets

➝ author's note: for all intents and purposes, all dialogues between fernando, alberto and the el hormiguero team are in spanish, however, translated for easier reading. i'm sorry for breaking your heart again, marco. tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

Staring into space, the words repeated inside Fernando's head.

— We've gone too far — Charlie said, her eyes full of tears, her wet hair falling over her green uniform. 

“But does that mean, too far?”, he asked himself, as his mind replayed the moment when he watched, paralyzed, the woman he loved slipping through his fingers and disappearing from the suite.

He couldn't remember feeling such pain before in his life. Not even with all of the heartbreaks and injuries he’d suffered in the course of his life, this one felt different. Fernando didn't understand how or why, but what had happened in Japan had cut him more deeply than any wound he’d ever suffered.

Maybe it was the fact that he said those three words with complete conviction that he would be reciprocated. Maybe it was the fact that he saw love in those beautiful blue eyes. Perhaps it was the fact that they had walked such a long path, filled with so much strife and pain, only to find more sadness and frustration.

In his hands, the phone's screen lit up with a notification. However, the simple eye movement made Fernando's heart ache again. It wasn't a message from the woman who was smiling, hugging her cat, in the background of the device. And if it wasn't her, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

— Fer?

He looked up to find Alberto sitting right next to him, staring at him with a worried expression.

— What? — Fernando muttered, turning off the cell phone screen.

— You're thinking about her again, aren't you? — his friend asked softly.

He snorted, feeling defeated. There was no point in denying it, Alberto knew him like no one else. There was a reason that his name wasn’t listed in Fernando’s contacts as Alberto or his nickname, Galle, but hermano. He was the brother life had given him.

— I am.

The friend pursed his lips.

— Hasn’t she answered you?

— No — Fernando muttered.

— Not even the note at the factory?

— She read it, saw me at the door of the engineering office, and threw it in the trash.

— Oh — Alberto said quietly, seeming to absorb the impact of Charlie's attitude. Something that Fernando was still trying to do, even if it filled his chest with inexplicable anguish — So, you don't think it’s time to…

— No — the driver said, not waiting for him to finish the question. He already knew what Alberto was going to ask him and Fernando was absolutely sure of the answer — I'm not going to give up on her.

— Fer, Charlie doesn’t…

— She'll talk to me, I know she will — he replied — I'll convince her to talk to me.

— And how do you intend to do that?

— I — Fernando began, before being interrupted by the door to the green room opening Sara, the show's producer, came in, her curly hair tied on top of her head and a friendly expression on her face.

— Could you come with me, Fernando?

Forcing a smile, the driver got up, brushing past Alberto in silence and following Sara out of the room. While she was talking about the segments that would be recorded that afternoon, they passed by a window, where the Madrid landscape lay gray and melancholy. 

It was exactly how Fernando felt.

Charlie was like the sun and Fernando bitterly regretted having hidden from her shine for so long. It had only been in the last few months that he started to realize how she brought color and joy to his life. Simply getting a message from her wishing him a good morning was able to make all problems disappear from Fernando's day. There were no clouds when she was around, let alone rain or cold.

Charlie was light. Charlie was warmth. Charlie was life.

— Alejandro, can you put the mic on him? — Sara said, bringing him back to the present.

— Of course — the dark brown-haired man replied, approaching him with a nervous little smile. Fernando couldn't help noticing that his hands were shaking as he clipped the microphone to the collar of the white shirt he was wearing underneath his black leather jacket.

— Are you okay? — the driver asked, which made the man look up, his eyes wide with shock, as if he couldn't believe Fernando was talking to him.

— Me? Yeah, I'm fine.

— You're shaking — he said seriously.

— It's not every day that I put a microphone on my childhood idol — the man said, before handing over the transmitter for Fernando to clip to his pants. As he looked at the young production assistant, Fernando felt strangely old, as if he had only just now realized that he was 42 years old. He didn’t often feel his age, especially when he was with Charlie. She was able to bring the fresh-faced 22 year old Formula 1 rookie out of him. She was able to bring out the boy full of dreams, desires and plans for his own future.

All of them had Charlie included.

— Pablo just finished his monologue and he's going to introduce you, okay? — Sara said, and Fernando nodded. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus on what he needed to do. He was used to performing as an athlete, and this was no different. “Promoting the Las Vegas Grand Prix, talking about the performance this year and the search for the third championship”, Alberto repeated in his head.

— Today, who comes to have fun at El Hormiguero is the two-time Formula 1 champion and Aston Martin driver, Fernando Alonso!

The audience's applause was the cue for him to enter the studio, an artificial smile screwed on his face. After greeting Pablo warmly with a hug, he walked to the stand, waving to the audience before taking his seat. When the music ceased in the studio, Pablo turned to him and smiled.

— Welcome, Fernando, how are you?

— I'm good — he said, with a smile.

— It's been a long time since you've been here, hasn't it?

— Yes, I think I last came in person in 2019, and then only by video call.

— And a lot has changed since then, hasn't it?

— Yes, a lot — Fernando said, trying to remember where he was in his life the last time he was there. He had just competed in the Dakar and was back in Formula 1, despite all the resistance from his family and Linda, his girlfriend at the time. At that moment, she seemed like a distant memory, a flash overshadowed by…

— But they certainly changed for the better — Pablo continued — You spent two years at Alpine and then, with Vettel's retirement, you took over his seat at Aston Martin. And from there, you started stringing up spectacular results.

— Yes…

— This season, there were three wins, in addition to seven podiums, all in your first year with the team — Pablo said, eliciting applause from the audience. Fernando gave a small smile, a bittersweet feeling rising in his chest.

— Yes, it was indeed an excellent first year, better than I could have imagined. The car is very good and the team is brilliant, so it's impossible not to have a good season.

More applause, more smiles. Until that moment, a perfect interpretation of the happy and successful driver who was there to promote the Las Vegas Grand Prix on Spanish television. A performance worthy of a Goya award.

— The next race is in Las Vegas, right? — the presenter asked.

— That's right, we're heading back there.

— There were races in Las Vegas before?

— Yes, there were some in the 80s, but on a much smaller circuit. Now we're going to race on a new circuit, designed for today's cars.

— And what do you think of this new circuit?

— Well, at first I thought it would be a slower circuit, just like Baku, because it is a street layout, with many turns and a long straight but it has several straights, and it is extremely fast.

— Fast in which sense? — Pablo asked, laughing — It's because you have a different concept of fast than we do, you know?

— I think it is possible to hit 360 kilometers per hour, considering the DRS and the clean air of the other cars.

The presenter and the audience seemed impressed, some even scared, by this information. After questioning about the layout, the difficulties and the reason why they would be racing on Saturday night and not Sunday, Pablo adjusted the round-framed glasses on the top of his nose.

— And what do you expect from this race? — he asked.

— I believe we have everything to make a good fight against Mercedes and Red Bull. Both myself and the team's engineers are optimistic about the simulations and data we already have from the track and we have everything to have a very positive weekend in Vegas.

The television host smiled broadly at him. 

— Well, since you mentioned engineers, we have a few things to show you today. Laura, please.

Turning his face to the projector screen to his left, Fernando felt his chest sink as a video played on the giant screen, repeated on the smaller studio monitors across the soundstage.

— Are you ready? — he heard his own voice say through the studio's audio system. In the projected image, he was looking into the passenger seat of the DB12, at Silverstone. Charlie was seated next to him, her bangs barely visible under the edge of a black helmet with a visor strip that had the Pirelli Logo with the words “Hot Laps”.

— Of course I am! — she replied, smiling — Don’t go easy on me, either.

The video cut to the moment when he stepped on the accelerator, accelerating down the straight to the sound of the 680-horsepower V8 engine and Charlie's laughter. She squealed with joy as her hands tightened on the leather seat in a vain attempt to keep herself stable as Fernando contourned the Village.

— Come on, is that all you can do? — she asked in a loud voice, trying to overcome the roar of the engine, looking at Fernando with a mischievous gleam in her eyes — I thought you were a two-time world champion!

— If you say so — the driver muttered, hitting the Wellington straight, the numbers on the car's dashboard skyrocketing. The loud rumble made her put her hand on his arm, pulling away as he slowed briefly to round Luffield and head toward Copse.

Hearing her laughter, Fernando watched as the two rocked side to side as they passed Maggots and Becketts. Charlie looked completely fulfilled there, urging him to go faster even in corners where he was being more conservative. She was intense, direct, deep and passionate about what she did.

No wonder he couldn’t help but fall in love with her. It was as easy as breathing.

The applause from the audience brought Fernando back to reality, meeting the curious look of Pablo, who had a slight smile.

— Well, we've seen this lady several times with you during the season, accompanying you during the weekends, talking to you before the races and even on your social media, like on your birthday...

— Yes, that’s Charlie. Well, her name is Charlotte, but her nickname is Charlie — the driver replied, giving a small smile when he saw the photo he had posted to his Instagram. She was posing with the cake she had requested to come to their table on the night of his birthday, in Belgium, the words “happy birthday, asshole” written in chocolate syrup.

— She's your engineer, right?

— Yes, my race engineer.

— And what does she do, exactly?

— Well, all drivers have race engineers, who are the people who inform us about what is happening on the track, the condition of the car, whether it will rain or not, a bridge between the driver and the outside world.

— So she's the one who tells you everything, basically the voice in your head when you're driving?

— Something like that — Fernando replied, chuckling.

— But this isn't the first time you've worked together, is it? You two worked together at McLaren before your sabbatical, didn't you?

— That's right — he said, looking at the photo they'd retrieved of the two of them talking, both dressed in black and white and with less than happy expressions in their faces. Her hair was blonde then, and she had a different haircut, without the fringe bangs she had now. She looked like a different person — We worked together at McLaren for four years. She was my performance engineer at the time.

— Well, that explains a lot the closeness between you that we can see on television…

— Yeah, it does — Fernando replied — The fact that we had worked together helped a lot in my arrival at Aston Martin, since I came from a team with a different project, a different vision, different equipment, while she had been there for a longer time.

— And is it always this quick for an engineer and a driver to get into this sort of marriage, so to speak? Or is it something particular to you, because you already know each other?

The word marriage made his stomach churn.

— Well, the truth is that there is no formula to make a partnership like this work. Other drivers use different ways to maintain this relationship. Lance, my teammate, for example, likes to go cycling with his engineer, Ben. I know that Hamilton likes to run with his and Ocon likes to travel to the circuits with his.

— And what do you do with Charlie?

“We fuck”, he thought, smiling to mask his discomfort.

— A little bit of everything — Fernando finally answered — We eat together, travel together and we are always in touch, even when there's no race.

— Did you ever fight?

— Sometimes.

— So it's like a real marriage — Pablo said, making the audience laugh and Fernando give a weak smile — And, between us, being married to a beautiful woman like her shouldn't be difficult at all, right?

The driver laughed, nodding.

— She would hate you saying that, Pablo.

— Uh, why?

— Nothing annoys Charlie more than that.

— Being called pretty?

— Being summarized as just a pretty woman, because she is so much more than that.

Pablo’s expression lit up with curiosity.

— Oh, tell us more.

— Charlie is extremely intelligent, intuitive and observant. She is not satisfied with points or podiums, she wants victories, championships, trophies. She is ambitious and has the same hunger to win that I have and that, in a way, brought us together. And that makes her one of the best race engineers in Formula 1, if not the best.

— A strong statement, Fernando…

— Not to mention what she’s like as a person, outside of work. She's funny, loving, and caring, plus she has amazing taste in music. Anyway, she is much more than a pretty face and I admire that about her. I admire her and am proud to have her by my side — he finished, the last sentence making something ache in his chest. Charlie wasn't there for him anymore, she never would be, as much as he wanted her to.

— Putting it that way, I think we're going to have to have her here sometime, aren't we? — Pablo said, turning to the audience. Fernando forced another smile, trying to hide his own pain.

The rest of the recording was a blur, the questions and jokes mixing with the memories of Charlie inside his mind. Everything reminded him of her, from the comments about cats to the moment when Trancas, one of the puppets, asked if he had ever forgotten an important date, like a girlfriend's birthday. The bouquet of English roses he had sent to Charlie's suite on the morning of October 23rd was proof that he would never be able to do this.

At the end of his guest appearance, Fernando said goodbye to the show’s production team and got into the car with Alberto, who suggested that the two of them go somewhere to eat, which he accepted, without paying much attention, his eyes lost in the streets of Madrid. Stopping the car in front of a bar that he didn't bother to see what it was, the two sat down at an empty table, being promptly served. After Alberto asked for sparkling water and a board of jamón and cheese, the waiter turned to Fernando.

— And you, sir, what do you want?

Usually he asked for water or juice, even a soda when he wanted something different, but always without alcohol. However, he needed something stronger than Coke that night.

— I'll have a beer — he said flatly.

Fernando didn't tell how many glasses of beer he had drunk until the end of the night, much less how he got back to the hotel they were staying in downtown. Still in the clothes he'd worn on the recording of the show, he was sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling. In his head, Charlie's laugh echoed like a distant memory, her smile wide as she held the team trophy at Suzuka.

He needed to hear her voice again. He needed her.

Picking up the phone, Fernando tapped the screen a few times until he found Charlie's number in the contact list. Pressing the green button next to her nickname, the long beeps made his heart sink. She hadn't answered any of his calls so far, why she would…

— Hello? Fernando? — he heard Charlie say on the other end of the line. His heart leapt in his chest, his mind slow to process an answer. After so much time trying to talk to her, the driver had no idea what to say — Are you there?

— Charlie — he drawled in a slurred voice — You answered me…

— You called me at two in the morning, I thought it might be an emergency.

— It's an emergency — Fernando said, the words slowly coming out of his mouth.

A few seconds of silence passed.

— Fernando, are you drunk?

— Yes…

— You never drink — Charlie stated.

— I wanted to drink today.

— Why?

— I was missing you — Fernando murmured.

She sighed on the other end of the line.

— You know you can't drink. It's not good for you.

The driver was silent, processing Charlie's words. There seemed to be concern in her tone. But why was she worried?

— It's not like you care...

— Of course I do, Fernando — she replied on the other end of the line, seeming outraged by that idea — I care so much that I'm going to send a message to Alberto now...

— He was with me — Fernando replied.

— And he allowed you to drink that much?

— He's not my mother.

Charlie was silent for long seconds, looking like she didn't have any arguments to rebut him.

— And why did you call me? — she finally asked, making him sit on the bed.

— Because we need to talk.

— Fernando…

— It's no use saying we don't need it, Charlie, we need to talk and sort it out.

— But we can't do that over the phone...

— Why not? — Fernando said, in a harsh tone that, in a way, reflected the pain he felt — You refuse to look me in the face since that night in Suzuka. You barely talk to me during debriefs. You ignored my note at the factory and the flowers I sent you for your birthday.

— But I thanked you...

— Do you know how many flower shops I had to call to get that bouquet? More than seven! — he continued, feeling his eyes fill with tears — I don't know what to do to show you that I'm serious.

— Fernando, please — Charlie said quietly.

— Why don't we settle this now? — the driver questioned, feeling his voice crack.

— Because you're drunk, Fernando, and it’s late — Charlie exclaimed — You shouldn’t even be awake right now, never mind having a serious discussion about our relationship.

— I'm perfectly in a position to discuss our relationship.

— For God's sake, it's two in the morning!

— Fuck, Charlotte! — he yelled, tears streaming down his face — It doesn't change anything! It doesn't change the fact that I want to give you everything. I want to give you a home, a family, a future. I want to give you my days and my nights and everything in between.

— Fernando!

— I only want one thing from you, and that's your fucking heart! Why are you making things difficult? Why can't you be happy with me? I'm not enough for you, is that it?

Charlie sighed on the other end of the line, clearly annoyed.

— This is exactly why I don’t want to discuss this with you right now.

— Why?

— Because won’t listen to me!

— And did you think of listening to me in Suzuka, Charlotte?

She sighed.

— Listen, we're going to talk about this in person, calmly, like two adults, and not over the phone after you’ve been drinking. 

He stared into space in silence for long seconds.

— Are you going to run away again? — Fernando murmured.

— No, I won't. 

— When? — he asked, a spark of hope lighting up in his heart. Maybe if they talked, Charlie would finally be honest with him and herself. Maybe Fernando could convince her that he was the perfect person for her.

— In Las Vegas — she replied, making him feel dismayed.

— But that's a week from now! — he whined.

— Fernando…

— Why don't you fly to Lugano? Or, I can go to your house so we can talk? I can get a last-minute flight…

— You're not going to get a flight, Fernando. You're going to take a shower, take some paracetamol and go to sleep — she replied. Her voice reminded him of the way his mother spoke to him when he was younger, which made him briefly imagine what it would be like to see her taking care of their kids — You’ll feel much better in the morning.

— Fine — Fernando finally relented, passing a hand over his wet face.

— We'll talk, but in Vegas, in person, okay?

— Okay.

— Now, go do what I told you.

— Okay — he said, in a low voice.

— Good night, Fernando.

— Good night. I love you — the driver replied, hoping to hear the same back. However, instead of the sound of Charlie's voice, he heard the beep that indicated that the call had ended.

“Maybe she doesn't love me in the end”, Fernando thought to himself, letting himself fall onto the mattress again.

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[nordschleifes]

chapter seven — el perdedor

➝ when that fateful day in montreal is repeated in belgium, charlie is sure that the fairy tale with fernando has come to an end. she just didn't expect that she hadn't been the biggest loser that afternoon.

➝ word count: 7,3k

➝ warnings: fight, cursing, bribery, an angry cat, smut

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

Sitting inside the plane, tears were streaming down Charlie's cheeks. She was trying not to cry in earnest in fear of disturbing the two other passengers beside her, a man dozing against the window and a woman in the middle seat who was immersed in the movie. But, she wanted to. She needed to. She needed to get all the frustration and anger consuming her out.

She needed to do something other than ruminate on the fact that the fairy tale of just over two months between her and Fernando was over, ending in the worst possible way.

Fernando had just come off of an incredible streak, one that not even the most optimistic of his fans could have imagined. After the unsatisfactory race in Barcelona, he was fully motivated to get back onto the podium in Montreal.

— It was like I said yesterday, that was our last race off the podium, nena — Fernando had murmured to her, the morning before the first free practice of the weekend, while they were still in bed together.

Driven by that desire to turn the tables, the two agreed to use a more aggressive setup than Lance's. However, against Max Verstappen's practically unstoppable RB19, they needed much more than a good strategy and a perfectly tuned car.

They needed luck.

— Is Max in trouble? — asked Fernando, a few laps after his first stop, during the safety car caused by George Russell. At that point they were in second place, more concerned with fending off Lewis Hamilton than chasing the championship leader through the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve.

— He hasn’t reported anything, why?

— He’s braking too early in the turns.

— Understood, I'll check — she said as her eyes scanned the telemetry charts, comparing the two drivers' lines and noticing that Max's braking line was longer and smoother than Fernando's. “Something's wrong”, Charlie kept repeating to herself, as he watched the lap times continue to fall, lap after lap.

Then, Charlie got a message from Max, in a way. The engineers at the race support room in Silverstone informed her that he had complained of overheating brakes and had been advised by the team to cool them. After a brief conversation with them about what to do and the possibility of Max retiring, she opened the radio channel with Fernando.

— Max has problems with his brakes. Difference dropping one second per lap. It's time to attack, Fer.

— Copy — he replied.

Watching him chase the RB19 around the track like a predator was fascinating to Charlie. The way he found the tenths of a second in each curve, passing within what seemed like millimeters of the Armco barriers sent a shiver through her body. It was sensual, wild, a kind of dance.

— You have DRS available — she said, as soon as she saw the three letters light up on the screen, an indication that Fernando had closed the gap enough. The closest he'd been all season.

And then, at the hairpin, when Max braked, his wheel locked. Losing the apex of the corner, he headed towards the gravel trap, opening the door for Fernando to pass and take the lead on the Casino Straight.

— Yes! C’mon! — he said into the radio, as Charlie took a deep breath, trying to contain herself as much as the garage cheered effusively. She had to concentrate on helping him build up a lead over Lewis, while Verstappen struggled with his own car before pitting and retiring.

When the dark green car crossed the finish line, she felt like she was on cloud nine. On the other side of the radio, Fernando roared in celebration, as if he was letting off the pressure of ten years without a win in Formula 1. All those years of frustration, doubts and challenges in other categories, in search of that feeling, that moment, those seconds when the work had finally come to fruition.

It was a mission accomplished. The plan had finally worked.

Meeting him after the race, drenched in sweat and champagne, was another thrill. The effort not to kiss him right there in the pit lane, in front of the world, was overwhelming, despite him not making an attempt to hide his delight at seeing her. He hastily shoved the first place trophy in the hands of his press officer to run towards her, picking Charlie up and twirling around with her in his arms.

— Thank you, thank you, thank you — Fernando repeated in her ear, while she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks — Thank you so much.

— I have to thank you — Charlie said softly as he set her down on the ground — You're amazing, Fer.

— And you're beyond amazing, nena — he replied, before hugging her again, the champagne that was still on his overalls soaking into the front of her uniform polo, leaving a damp spot.

Two more wins followed, one in England and one in Hungary. At both races, the feeling of seeing him happy and on top of the podium was sublime for Charlie, not just because she'd done her job well and helped him achieve his goals for the weekend. It was the smile on Fernando's face, the pride in his eyes when he heard the notes of the Spanish anthem, the way he hugged her when he finally saw her in the pit lane each time.

And just when everything seemed perfect, everything fell apart.

Sunday's race at Spa, the last before the summer break, had been a replay of that catastrophic afternoon in Canada when they were both at McLaren. When Charlie heard Raúl tell her that there was a problem with the fuel consumption, a pit formed in her stomach.

This couldn't be happening again. It couldn't. She didn't deserve this, Fernando didn't deserve this, especially not when they were so close.

— The injection system is feeding the power unit erratically, consumption is above normal — the performance engineer said, pointing to the screen where the graphics foreshadowed the impending disaster.

Charlie felt her heart pounding in her chest.

— Is there anything we can do?

— At that point, all we can do is retire the car to see if we can save something from this power unit.

— Is that coming from mission control? — she asked, trying to buy herself some time to try to put into action some breathing exercise Hannah had taught her.

— Yes, and Mike already gave the okay.

Heaving a sigh, Charlie pressed the button next to Fernando's name.

— Fer, we have a problem that we can’t resolve. We're going to have to retire the car — she said, as she braced herself for a catastrophic response. An outburst of curses or worse, him fighting with her over the radio. “Please, Fernando”, she begged mentally, while he remained silent, seeming to process the information that his race was over.

— Understood — the driver muttered.

As soon as the car pulled up in front of the garage, Charlie took off her headphones and left them on top of the pit wall. She was beside herself with sadness and dread. She tried to assure herself that the team made the best decision for their championship ambitions, she couldn't help but think of how frustrated Fernando would be about it.

At that moment, it was killing her.

She watched as he climbed out of the car and handed Mikey, his mechanic, his HANS device, and walked toward the back of the garage without even taking his helmet off. Charlie ran after him, crossing the pit lane to try to catch up.

— Fernando! — she exclaimed, as he walked towards the paddock — Wait, Fernando.

However, Fernando continued to ignore her, making no effort to take his helmet off as he walked into the Aston Martin motorhome. The guest area was full, and all eyes were fixed on him, then on her. "I must look like an idiot", Charlie thought to herself, as she climbed the stairs. 

She was out of breath by the time she reached the door of Fernando’s drivers room, but the door was open. She could see that he’d finally taken off his helmet and balaclava, his hair damp with sweat and sticking up at odd angles.

— Fer...

— What? — he asked gruffly, as he unzipped his overalls, revealing his black fireproofs.

— I'm sorry — Charlie said quietly.

The driver stared at her, not seeming to believe what she was saying.

— You’re sorry? Do you think that being sorry is of any use?

She blinked, stunned.

— I…

— Your sorry does me no good, because, in the end, I'm not on the track. I'm not doing what I love to do!

— I know…

— Why didn’t you let me stay out? — Fernando exclaimed, taking a step forward — Why didn't you ask me if I could continue?

— The car wouldn't have made it to the flag — Charlie stammered, her hands feeling clammy and cold.

— I could have figured it out, I could have.

— There was an issue with the fuel injection system, there was no way to keep going without severely damaging the rest of the power unit...

— Of course, for you there's never a way to keep going. The solution for you is to always accept the circumstances and do nothing.

— I never said we shouldn't do anything — she snapped.

— But you accepted that there was no resolution instead of talking to me and analyzing the alternatives.

— Do you think there's time to debate options in the middle of a race? Especially with you going 300km/h?

— It’s better than taking whatever shit life throws at you! You've been doing that since your McLaren days, haven’t you?

— Fernando, we don't need to talk...

— Actually, we don't need to — he said, cutting her off — You know I'm right. You know you’d been content for too long with that shitty team, with that fucking engine, and now that you have a chance to fight for more, you give up, just like you’re back there.

Charlie swallowed hard. Fernando didn’t know it, but by the end of her time at McLaren, she felt like she had stayed with the team far longer than she should have. Her working environment there was chaotic, made worse by the issues with the Honda and Renault engines, and the team’s inability to be competitive. But McLaren had taken her on fresh out of university and gave her a career in Formula 1, so she felt obligated to stay out of gratitude, even as things deteriorated season after season.

— You know why I was there so long...

— You stayed for the worst reason possible — he exclaimed — Staying only because your grandfather only likes English teams, that's ridiculous!

— He has his reasons...

— Stupid reasons that had you stick with a shitty, uncompetitive team when you could’ve moved on to bigger and better things! — Fernando shouted.

— Why does it matter? — Charlie said, raising her voice to match.

— It matters because you keep acting like you still work for McLaren and that all you can do is just give up! 

The rational part of Charlie begged her to turn her back and leave Fernando talking to the walls, to leave him to take out his own frustration with the awful afternoon he'd had. However, she couldn’t help but stand there.

— What do you mean by that?

— You keep acting like a fucking loser!

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

— A loser? — she murmured, feeling her throat tighten and her lower lip quiver.

— Yes, that’s what I said. Are you deaf?

— Fernando…

— Charlotte, just get out of here and leave me in peace.

She thought of thousands of things to say at that moment. However, all Charlie could think to do was to leave the room. She walked to the engineers' office to pick up her backpack, feeling disoriented. “I have to go, I have to get out of here”, she thought, as she walked out of the motorhome, down the paddock, straight through the exit turnstiles, all without pause.

While waiting for the Uber, Charlie sent a quick message to Raúl, making up an excuse for having to leave before debriefing with Fernando. The last thing she needed was for him to say even worse things in front of everyone else.

In less than three hours, she was flying back to England without a second thought. There was no reason for it. It was all over.

— Miss? — someone said, touching her shoulder as she stared out the window. Charlie startled a bit before turning her head to see that there was a flight attendant standing in the aisle, a worried expression on her face — Do you need anything?

She hesitated for a few seconds, her mind searching for something plausible to say.

— No, I’m okay.

— Are you sure?

— Yeah, it's just something in my eye — Charlie lied, rubbing at her eyes in an effort to cover for herself.

— Well, if you need anything, we're here for you.

— Thanks — she replied, giving a sheepish smile.

After landing, Charlie drove to her grandparents' house to pick up Ron. Her grandparents always watched Charlie’s cat while she was out of town. As she put the cat’s carrier in the back seat, Amanda asked about her puffy eyes and red nose, irritated from rubbing it on the sleeve of her team sweatshirt.

— I'm fine, grandma, don't worry — Charlie said, as she sat in the driver's seat, forcing a smile.

If only she believed what she was saying.

Returning to her empty apartment was dismal. It was the start of summer break for Charlie. For the next four weeks, there would be no Formula 1, no traveling, no simulations to analyze, no videos to watch, no plans to make.

In a way, it was a good thing, as it would give Charlie the time and attention to focus on other things. She was determined to use the break wisely. She had a bookcase to assemble after buying it for her office over three months ago. There was a faucet in her kitchen that was leaking and needed to be fixed. She needed to organize her vinyl record collection after dismantling it to find one specific record to show Fernando during a video call — one of what seemed like hundreds that they’d had over the past few months.

“Forget about him”, Charlie told herself, shaking her head in order to physically push the thought away. He was part of the past, a reminder of something that no longer existed. The Fernando of the past few months was just a ruse. The real Fernando was the guy she’d known for so long. The real Fernando was the two-time world champion, demanding and uncompromising, who said and did what he wanted without regard for how his actions affected other people. The Fernando that she’d come to like was just in Charlie’s imagination, he never really existed, not even in her dreams.

 "Was it all just a lie?", she asked herself, as she laid down on the bed with Ron purring at her feet.

She fell asleep with that question on her mind.

The first week of the summer break was tedious. Charlie busied herself with household chores, trips to the factory, and visits to her grandparents, not allowing herself a moment to think. It was intentional — she wanted to distract herself and not allow herself to imagine what it would be like to spend her summer break in Switzerland, especially not at a particular villa in Lugano.

But the second week was torture. With the factory on lockdown and a mandated restriction on the work she could do, her avenues for distraction were limited. She’d accomplished all of the chores around the house she’d wanted to do, as well. With no reason to leave the house, she found herself trapped in a cycle that consisted of drinking wine, watching LOST and feeling frustrated every time her cell phone’s screen lit up and it wasn’t Fernando.

After what had happened at Spa, she hadn't received any calls or texts from him. In fact, it was as if he had disappeared entirely, as not even his Instagram had been updated after the race. Charlie didn't want to admit it, but the lack of updates made her more anxious. She couldn’t even find recent photos from fans that had him tagged. What kind of Formula 1 driver was he to not post a single photo of his summer vacation?

That was the question she asked herself on Saturday night, when the doorbell to her flat rang.

— I’m coming, calm down — Charlie yelled, as she set her glass of wine on the coffee table and extricated herself from her sofa. She’d been lying on it with Ron on her chest for the last few hours, watching something mindless on television. It was strange for someone to ring her doorbell, and her first thought as she opened the door was that it would be Rita, her elderly neighbor, asking for her help with something.

But, it wasn’t Rita. 

Standing in the doorway, wearing a black T-shirt, looking forlorn with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, was Fernando. However, it wasn't the clothes or the messy hair that caught Charlie's attention. It was the sadness present in his eyes.

— Good evening — he said softly.

— What are you doing here? — Charlie asked, her voice as dry and unimpressed as she could make it.

— I came to see you.

She snorted.

— As far as I last knew, you said you didn't want to see me anymore.

The driver let out a heavy sigh.

— Can we talk?

— We're already talking.

— Somewhere more private, I mean.

Charlie pursed her lips. Her neighbors definitely didn't need to see her arguing with Fernando Alonso in the hallway. She stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. He couldn't help but smile as he walked past her, into the living room of her flat.

Closing the door, Charlie took a deep breath before turning towards him. The driver was standing in the middle of the living room, looking around curiously. Seeing him in her flat gave her an odd feeling, until she realized something.

That was the first time he’d been to her flat.

— How did you find my address? — she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

— I spoke with HR — Fernando replied with a smile.

— And they gave you my address without saying anything?

— Of course not. They told me they couldn't hand over sensitive information about another employee, even someone who works closely with me. I tried to argue that I needed your address to send you a birthday gift, but they didn’t buy that.

She blinked.

— My birthday isn’t until October.

— I know.

Charlie hesitated, trying to puzzle out the situation.

— So, how…

— I made a personal appearance in the HR office and had a conversation with an intern. If you want an important tip for life, always have an envelope with you, you never know when you'll need it.

Charlie was shocked.

— You bribed an intern to get my address?

— Bribery is a very strong word, Charlie.

— How else would you describe it?

— I prefer “gratitude for services rendered”.

Running a hand over her face, she couldn't believe what he had done.

— And how much did my address cost?

— Less than Lewis’ mechanics cost me in 2007, that's for sure.

— How much? — Charlie repeated the question, placing a hand on her hip.

— A hundred pounds and an autograph.

She snorted, half outraged, half impressed by his audacity. Charlie couldn't fathom how troublesome that had been. Bribing someone for personal information could lead to serious problems within the company, both for him and the intern. But at the same time that she was pissed off, a part of her was in awe of all that effort on his part.

— What do you want, Fernando?

— I already told you, I wanted to see you.

— Well, if that's all, you’ve seen me, so you can go now.

— Charlie — he murmured, in a sad tone — I want to talk…

— What could we possibly have to talk about, Fernando?

— Charlie, you know what we have to talk about, and that’s what happened in Spa…

She shook her head.

— If you skipped out on your vacation to come to Northampton…

— Charlie...

— Just to complain about your fucking fuel injection system, you can leave right now, because I won't listen to any more of it…

— Fuck, Charlotte, I came to apologize! — he exclaimed, interrupting her.

Charlie felt her heart skip a beat.

— But…

— I came here to apologize to you — he repeated, in a lower tone — I came here to tell you that I was an asshole to you, and I’m sorry. I was upset about what happened at the race, but I shouldn't have any of the things I said to you.

— But you did say those things — she whispered.

— And I regret every word of it — Fernando continued — I regret saying that you act like a loser, I regret saying that your reasons for staying at McLaren were stupid. What I regret most, though, is when I asked you to leave me in peace.

— Why? — Charlie asked, feeling her throat tighten.

— Because it’s been horrible. It hasn’t been peaceful at all. Not having you by my side is the worst thing in the world, Charlotte. If living in peace means not having you with me, I would rather live in hell.

— Fer...

— I'm serious, Charlie — he said, stepping forward — I don't want you to leave me in peace. I want you to make every second of my life hell. Make my life an eternal torture if you need to. Please, make my life hell. 

Her eyes burned with tears.

— I accept everything you do to me if it means I find heaven on your lips — Fernando whispered, his eyes wet — Torture me, destroy me. But please, don't leave me, Charlotte. Don't leave me alone. Because that is the real hell. 

Charlie's lower lip quivered as her chest filled with a familiar, overwhelming warmth. Leaving Spa like she had had been horrible, almost as if she was leaving her own heart behind, and she’d found out the hard way that it was exactly what she’d done.

When she turned and left Fernando’s driver room, she’d left her heart with him.

— Come here, dickhead — she finally said, opening her arms.

Fernando stepped towards her, enveloping her in a tight embrace. With her head nestled against his neck, Charlie closed her eyes and allowed the tears that had been building to spill down her cheeks onto the fabric of his T-shirt. A few seconds later, he pulled back slightly, looking down at her. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were damp.

— Thank you — he whispered, resting his forehead on hers.

— For what? — she asked quietly.

— For not giving up on me.

She smiled as she brought a hand to his face, gently cupping his cheek.

— If I didn't give up on you even when you were the biggest asshole in the world, I wouldn't give up on you now.

Giggling, he moved closer to Charlie's face, kissing her gently. The taste of their tears mingled with the taste of the wine she had been drinking. After a few seconds, the driver pulled her face away slightly, his nose brushing her skin.

— Mi cielo. Mi paz. Mi luz — he murmured, pecking her lightly between the words.

Charlie couldn’t understand what his words meant, but hearing them in his delicious accent were enough to make her melt in his arms and kiss him even harder. As she felt Fernando's hands sliding down her back towards her ass, something inside her started to burn, her skin tingling.

She needed more than hugs or kisses.

She needed to fuck him.

Tugging on the front of his shirt, Charlie started to lead him through the corridors of her flat towards her bedroom. They stumbled on the way, unable to keep their hands off each other, divesting each other of their clothes as they walked. It would be almost funny to an outside observer, with arms getting trapped in t-shirts, a lock of Charlie’s hair ending up in Fernando’s mouth in the chaos, the stumbling and grasping and groping at the wall to find the bedroom lightswitch. However, as soon as Charlie felt the edge of her mattress behind her legs, a wave of warmth ran over her skin.

— Mi nena — Fernando purred as he placed her on the bed, his teeth grazing her neck — Te extrañé tanto, mi cielo.

— Fuck, Fer — Charlie grumbled, bringing her hands up to his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his skin.

And then, a loud hiss made Fernando yelp and stand up, looking startled at something above Charlie’s head. Following his gaze, she realized they weren't alone in the room. Standing on Charlie’s pillow with his back arched, fur standing on end, and ears back, was Ron.

— I think someone isn't happy that we interrupted his nap — the driver said to her, with a smile. Then, he stretched out his hand towards the cat — Hello…

However, if he expected the cat to sniff his hand in greeting, he was wrong. Ron gave Fernando a warning growl, even louder than before, before swiping at his hand with his front paw. Charlie pushed Fernando off of her and stood up.

— No, Ron, not like that! — she said, scolding the cat as she picked him up and set him on the floor — Be nice! We’ve already talked about this.

As she watched the orange cat bolt from her bedroom, Charlie ran a hand over her face. She had forgotten about Ron’s tendency to nap on her bed. She was embarrassed, but at the same time, she certainly didn’t blame the cat. He had been snoozing peacefully in the dark before being so rudely interrupted by the presence of a stranger, after all.

— Ron, huh? — she heard from behind her. When she turned around, she found Fernando sitting on the bed, a mischievous smile on his face — I guess I know your cat’s name now. 

— Yeah, that’s Ron — Charlie replied.

— I didn't know you were a Harry Potter fan.

She blinked.

— I’m not… Not really.

The driver raised an eyebrow.

— But Ron is one of the characters, right? With red hair? I remember watching one of the movies with my nieces.

— I think so, but his name isn't Ron after Ron from Harry Potter.

— Where is his name from, then?

— Ron Dennis — she replied.

Fernando’s face fell.

— Are you joking?

— No, he's named after Ron Dennis.

Fernando laughed, incredulous.

— Did you name your cat after the guy who hates me?

— Yeah — Charlie said, closing the bedroom door.

— Charlotte! — the driver exclaimed.

— What? — she replied, with her hand on the doorknob — Are you bothered by my cat’s name?

— Of course, you named him after someone that hates me!

— Why do you think I chose that name?

Fernando blinked, looking shocked.

— Do you hate me? — he asked softly.

Charlie snorted, before stripping off the cotton bralette and shorts she was wearing, along with her panties. Then, placing her hands on her hips, she glared at him.

— Does it seem like I hate you?

Fernando was staring at her, his mouth open for a reply that seemed to get lost on the way to his lips. His pupils dilated as he took in every detail of her body, almost like he was trying to memorize details he’d seen dozens of times, from the fair and soft skin from her belly to the tattoo in her ribs of a V10 engine.

 Charlie walked towards him, stopping in the space between his legs.

— I asked you a question — she said, her voice hard and serious.

— What was it again? — he mumbled, his eyes fixed on her breasts.

Charlie shook her head before touching her fingers to Fernando’s chin, gently tipping his head up to bring his gaze to hers. 

— Does it seem like I hate you?

— No.

— Because I don't — she said softly, her fingers stroking his cheek — On the contrary. I quite like you, Fer.

Leaning on his shoulders, Charlie straddled Fernando's lap, her knees pressed against the mattress. The closeness of his skin to hers made her shiver, a mixture of excitement and anticipation that made something tingle just below her navel.

— Nena — the driver murmured, his hands drifting down to her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

— I like you quite a bit, my dear — Charlie continued, as she felt his beard brush against her skin as he buried his face in her neck — And my cat's name doesn't mean anything anymore.

— Mi cielo — Fernando whispered, before bringing his hands to her cheeks and slowly lying down on the bed. Then he kissed her slowly, his tongue patiently exploring her mouth, as if their week apart had dulled his memory of what she felt like, and he wanted to remember every inch of her again.

Pulling away slightly, Charlie unbuttoned Fernando’s jeans. With a laugh, she pulled them down with his underwear. Fernando smiled as his erection was revealed.

— Do you have a condom, or do I have to go to the car and get one?

She rolled her eyes as she positioned herself on top of him.

— Only if you go downstairs like that.

— Like that?

— Naked — Charlie said, with a smirk — It would be fun to see.

— Do you think your neighbors would appreciate it? — he asked, his fingers pressing into her hips as she brought her hand to his cock and pumped it a few times.

— My neighbors include a gay couple and an elderly widow. The sight of a handsome man like you walking naked down the hall would probably be pretty exciting — she replied, bringing her face closer to his — But, I don't think we need a condom today.

— Don't you want to see me running to the car naked?

— I don't want them to see you naked — Charlie said, towering over him — That's for my eyes only. 

Pulling her hips down onto his, Fernando let out a growl as he penetrated her, while Charlie let out a long sigh, the pleasure coursing through her body like a warm wave. They had already had sex dozens of times, in many places and positions, but the first few seconds always felt like the first time they became intimate on that night in Imola, like settling into a warm bath.

— All good? — he asked through clenched teeth.

— Yeah, my dear. And you?

— Yeah, just — Fernando stopped moving for a moment, seemingly to try and catch his breath — You're going to drive me crazy, nena.

Charlie chuckled.

— We’ll see — she replied, moving her hips slowly, gasping softly as she felt his cock brush against a specific spot inside her.

It didn't take long for them to find a rhythm that they both liked, with Charlie resting one hand just above the tattoo on his abdomen to steady herself. The sound of their bodies colliding mingled with their sighs and moans, as well as her wetness, which was already forming a shiny layer on his cock.

— Fuck — Fernando groaned, his hands making their way up her stomach until he could cup her breasts. The way he was touching her, with his rough fingers massaging her sensitive nipples, made heat course through Charlie's body in ever-increasing waves.

— Yes, Fer, yes — she moaned, tightening her hold on his hip, rubbing her own clit against his pubic bone. Charlie felt as if she were in limbo between agony and ecstasy, her muscles tensing as she chased her release. It was tantalizingly close, but still too far away. 

Suddenly, Fernando decided to take matters into his own hands. He planted his feet on the mattress for maximum leverage, gripped Charlie's waist tightly and began to thrust, angling his hips so Charlie canted forward a bit, giving her more friction where she wanted it. The sudden change in pace had her letting out a loud moan, her nails digging into his arms.

— You're going to come… For me… Mi cielo ? — he asked through gritted teeth, his fingers pressing into her skin harder with each thrust. The driver seemed to be clinging to the little self-control left in his body to get her closer to her orgasm.

— I… Yes, fuck, yes!

— Then… Come — he growled, practically as an order.

And then, Charlie came undone. 

Pressing her knees against his ribs, she felt her body become seized by the tension before relaxing, the pleasure coursing through her like an overwhelming tsunami. Beneath her, Fernando gave a few definitive thrusts, his voice strained as he called Charlie by her full name as he released himself, deliciously hot, inside her. Still shaking, she collapsed on top of him, her eyes half-closed and her heart racing in her chest.

They stayed in that position for what seemed like an eternity. There was no reason to move when she felt complete, with Fernando inside her, hot and pulsing as he gradually softened. There was no reason to move, not when she was enjoying being back where she should have been all along, where she always wanted to be.

— Are you okay, nena ? — Charlie heard Fernando whisper below her. Cocking her head, she found him looking at her with a tired little smile on her face.

— I’m wonderful. And you?

— I'm great, actually.

— Good — she replied softly, smiling.

A few seconds of silence followed, the two gazing at each other as if neither of them knew what to say. For Charlie, there weren’t words that felt adequate enough to describe what she was feeling. That almost unbearable feeling of joy and desire and satisfaction that filled her chest and made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

— I missed you — Fernando whispered, caressing Charlie’s cheek with his fingers.

— I missed you too — she said, smiling. Fernando smiled, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her gently, one hand sliding down her back, resting against the base of her spine in a gesture that felt equally affectionate and protective. It was a simple contact, but it felt so intimate that it made Charlie wish that time would stop, so that they never had to leave.

However, it was not to be.

The sound of Ron meowing and scratching at the bedroom door made her let out a long, frustrated sigh.

— I think someone isn't happy — Fernando muttered.

— He must be hungry — Charlie replied, snuggling his head on the driver's chest, trying to enjoy every last moment she could with him — This is normally when I feed him.

— Do you want to get up?

— No, but I need to get up. If I don’t, he will whine all night.

He placed a kiss on her forehead.

— Stay here, I'll get you something to clean you up — Fernando said, as he put her on the mattress and finally got out of Charlie's body. The empty feeling had her pressing her thighs together, trying to push away the discomfort.

— You can get one of the flannels from the bathroom — she instructed as watched him get out of bed.

— Where is that? — he asked, his eyes scanning the room, doubtlessly searching for his underwear.

— Second door on the left — Charlie replied, stifling a laugh when she realized he had a hand on his own cock — And you don't have to hide your dick here.

Fernando looked over his shoulder at her, a sly smile on his face.

— You're a naughty little thing, you know that? — he said, before taking his hand away and stepping out of the room. As Fernando disappeared into the hallway, Charlie saw Ron slip inside and jump onto the mattress. He sat at the edge of the bed, watching Charlie carefully.

He gave her a meow that sounded like a whine.

— Oh, my love — Charlie murmured, reaching out her hand to scratch his tufted ears. He backed away a little, before leaning his head closer and sniffing her fingers, which probably smelled like a Formula 1 driver to Ron. However, the cat soon relented, pressing his head into her hand — I'm going to feed you, okay? Just wait a little bit.

Fernando returned to the bedroom, already in his underwear and with a damp flannel in his hand. With a small smile, he sat on the edge of the bed, close to her legs. His presence made Ron hiss as the tip of his fluffy tail twitched angrily.

— No, Ron — Charlie scolded him again while scratching under his chin — No fighting with Fernando, he's my friend.

— Friend? — he asked, raising an eyebrow at her, resting a hand on one of her knees.

— Yeah, friend. My friend.

— Just your friend?

— Yes, is there a problem with that?

— No, Charlotte — Fernando replied, gently swiping the damp fabric over her labia — I just wonder if you let all your friends clean your pussy after having sex with you.

— Well, do you let all your friends ride your cock, Fernando? — Charlie asked, mimicking his sarcasm.

He chuckled, pulling his hand away from between her legs.

— Not all of them — the driver said, causing her to raise an eyebrow — Only one, actually. The prettiest one.

— Do I know her? — she asked, sitting up in bed.

— Yes, you see her every day in the mirror — Fernando replied, giving one of those smiles that made Charlie's heart melt — I'll take this to the laundry basket. Do you need anything?

— No, I’m fine. I need to get up and feed Ron.

— Want your clothes?

— I'll get something from the closet — she said, as she got up from the bed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. However, before going to the wardrobe, Charlie felt one of Fernando's hands slide around her waist, stopping her for a few seconds. When she turned her face, she found him staring at her with a goofy smile on his face.

— You're beautiful — he murmured.

— You already said that.

— I don't mind repeating myself.

— And I don’t mind hearing you repeat yourself.

— You’re beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world.

She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before walking to her dresser, grabbing the first clothes she saw. Afterwards, she walked to the kitchen, Ron following after on her heels. She put a scoop of kibble in Ron’s bowl and crouched next to him, encouraging to eat, but watching his owner interact with the interloper seemed to make Ron lose his appetite. After a few minutes, though, he started picking at the food in the wide, flat dish, his head shaking as he crunched.

— Good boy. Now, it’s time to go to bed — she said, after Ron had seemingly eaten his fill. She walked back to the bedroom with Ron following after her again, jumping up to his usual spot next to Charlie’s pillow. However, upon seeing Fernando lying on the bed again, Ron hissed and left the room. "I'll sort this out tomorrow", Charlie thought to herself. Charlie laid down next to Fernando, and he threw his arm around her waist, pulling her body closer to his.

— Good night, nena — Fernando whispered, kissing her neck.

— Good night, Fer.

The sun was shyly peeking through the crack in the curtain when Charlie woke up the next day. Stretching a hand across the sheets, she found it strange that they were cold. As she opened her eyes, trying to clear the remnants of sleep from her vision, she found that she’d woken up alone. She was a little puzzled, but went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. 

The silence inside the apartment was unsettling, especially with the knowledge that she’d fallen asleep in someone’s arms, and that someone was nowhere to be seen. However, as soon as Charlie entered the living room, she felt her heart warm.

Fernando was sitting in an armchair near the sliding door that led to her flat’s balcony. His face was illuminated by the sun’s rays that managed to break through the cloudy Northampton summer sky. His eyes were closed and his head was tipped back, and he seemed to be in his own world. As she got closer, Charlie noticed that Fernando was chewing on something.

The grumbling of an irritable cat made Fernando open his eyes and look down to his feet. Ron hissed at him again, clearly disturbed by Fernando’s presence, but too stubborn to actually move. After years of being the only male in the household, he clearly felt threatened by the arrival of another, especially one who stole his owner’s attention and affection. Fernando just smiled at the ginger-colored instigator. 

— I didn’t think cats liked peaches — he murmured, taking another bite of fruit, the juice running down his chin, some of it getting caught in his beard. He swiped at the edges of his mouth with his fingers as the remnants made them glisten in the sunlight.

Charlie watched without saying anything, and felt something tingling below her navel, and felt her heart racing a little. The shine on his lips reminded her of the times when Fernando had laid her in bed and taken her to her climax with his mouth. The memory of him between her legs, his eyes locked on hers as he pleasured her with his tongue made her melt.

It was then, seeing Fernando looking so comfortable in her flat, remembering their nights together, that made her realize just how much she had missed him.

Charlie had missed their stolen kisses and touches, the words murmured with desire in her ear. She had missed his stubble brushing the inside of her thighs, his tongue and fingers circling her clit, the satisfied sounds he made when he felt her pull at his hair.

Charlie walked quietly toward the balcony door, watching as Fernando took another bite of the peach. Then, as he chewed, he turned his face to her, giving her a small smile.

— Good morning, nena — he murmured, his mouth still full.

Without saying anything, Charlie eased herself into his lap, wrapping one of her arms around the back of his neck. Then she brought the thumb of her free hand to his chin, wiping away the juice and fruit pulp caught in his beard and bringing it to her mouth, savoring the sweet notes of fruit on her tongue.

However, nothing was sweeter than the way Fernando looked at her.

— Good morning — Charlie said, before kissing him slowly and deeply, enjoying the taste of fruit on his lips. It was sensual, almost erotic, and unlike anything she’d ever done. But she felt comfortable like this, like it was just part of their daily routine.

Pulling her face away from his, she nestled her head into the crook of his neck, eyes closed against the sunlight. "This is heaven", Charlie thought, as she felt Fernando caress her arm.

— Have you been up long?

— About 20 minutes, I think. Ron woke me up.

Charlie cocked her head toward Ron.

— He did?

— He climbed on top of me and stared at me for a while. When I tried to pet him, he started grumbling.

She sighed, looking down at the cat. Charlie felt bad for not taking their introduction more slowly, but there was nothing to be done. It wasn’t like she was expecting Fernando to drop by any time soon. 

— Yeah, I don’t think he likes you.

— What a surprise, another Ron that hates me — he muttered.

— Well, unlike the human Ron, this one can be won over.

— How? Do I need to neatly slice up my fruit before eating it in front of him?

— No, we can start with treats. This Ron doesn't care how you eat your peaches.

— The human Ron does.

— Well, that’s just one of his problems — Charlie sneered as she stood up from Fernando’s lap. — You’re familiar with how bribery works, so let’s bribe this cat.

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