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“This is a joke, right?”
Sebastian leans over the counter, trying to catch a glimpse of the monitor.
“I really don’t know why it’s not in my system.” The poor panicky hotel manager frantically taps on her keyboard, apologising for what seems like the twentieth time.
“And you’re sure that you don’t have another room available for tonight?” Sebastian asks again.
The manager shakes her head. At least she looks genuinely apologetic about it, Sebastian thought. It’s not her fault at all, he knows that. But it’s late, and Sebastian has a track walk and training shaking through his legs and needs 8 hours of sleep to properly work for free practice tomorrow. So it’s only fair that he is genuinely debating on waltzing into Mattia’s room right now.
“Should I call Silvia?” Britta asks sweetly. Even though Sebastian knows that Britta can and will solve this, Sebastian can’t bring himself to nod.
He’s tired.
And he knows for a fact that Britta is tired too.
“I’ll call him,” Sebastian says.
He’s been playing with the idea ever since the manager called around for him when he made it to the front desk. Always weighing up all the options, always trying to come up with a backup plan. Sebastian has been sure of his decision for quite some time.
“Are you sure?”
He can see the doubt flicker in Britta’s eyes as if he can somehow just read the sentence out of them.
Be careful.
She said that to him before he entered the debriefing room a week ago. A warning. Or, perhaps, a word of advice. Sebastian gave her a bitter laugh back then. Tell that to him, he replied before he entered the room.
But things were better before last week happened. The many awkward zoom-meetings aside, he’d even say that they had some sort of… friendship happening between them. It’s only natural that Seb feels like he can ask him. With how things are going with the rest of the team, maybe Charles, next to Britta, is the closest thing he has to a friend.
At least he can try to work things out like that.
“It’ll be okay,” Sebastian reassures her. He doesn’t believe himself when he says it though.
Britta just gives him a pressed smile and a somewhat reassuring pat on the shoulder before she lets him walk into the lobby.
The lobby is almost empty, with only a few different crew members sitting at the bar and enjoying their pre-race-weekend beer. Sebastian wishes he could join them, but at the same time, he knows that he doesn’t deserve it yet.
Sebastian doesn’t remember the taste of beer much at all. The last time he deserved it, he tasted champagne on his lips. Sickly sweet champagne, mixed with the sweat of his hard work. He remembers how delicious it could taste when you’re drinking it with someone who works just as hard.
That was months ago.
Back then, Sebastian thought that they made it through the worst already—that it can’t get messier than that. And god, he hated that he was proven wrong.
Eventually, he calls his number. Sebastian tries not to notice his shaking hands.
After the third ring, Charles picks up.
“Hello?”
“It’s Seb.”
“...Yes?”
“There’s been a problem with the booking.”
Charles is silent for a second. “Okay?”
“They don’t have a room for me tonight,” Sebastian clarifies.
Another awkward silence. This time Sebastian can make out sheets rustling in the background.
“I still don’t understand,” Charles says.
And Sebastian really can’t blame him. They should not be talking right now. Not with how they left things off last week. Not when Sebastian is still thinking about the things he said to Charles when they got out of the meeting.
Sebastian sighs. “Listen, I know that we both need space from each other, but I need a place to sleep tonight and the hotel is completely booked. I’m too tired to walk through Budapest at this hour and I don’t want to bother Britta—”
“Wait,” Charles interrupts. “You want to sleep in my room?”
“Yes. Only for one night, they said that they’ll have another room available tomorrow.”
“And where would I sleep?”
Sebastian stares blankly at the grand piano in the foyer. Sometimes he really wonders what goes on in Charles’ brain.
Sebastian laughs. “I am asking you to share your room with me, Charles.”
“Oh.”
“It’s alright if you’re not comfortable with that,” Sebastian puts one foot around the other, trying to avoid looking at Britta who’s sitting on his suitcase. “But I’d really appreciate it.”
“Okay,” Charles’ voice comes out thin, and again, Sebastian can’t blame him for it. It is a weird request, he knows that.
“Yeah?” Sebastian isn’t convinced with his answer.
“Yeah.” More rustling. Sebastian swears he catches Charles cursing under his breath.
“Thank you,” Sebastian lets out a sigh of relief. “Which room are you in?”
“516,” Charles replies. “But can you give me five—no—ten minutes?”
“Sure.”
It’s when Sebastian hangs up that he realises what kind of awkward situation he put himself in.
“How did it go?” Britta appears next to him.
“Good, I think?”
“You don’t sound sure.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “It’s an emergency. It’s going to be fine.”
“Are you convincing me or yourself?” Britta puts a hand on her waist.
“Both.” Sebastian grins at her. Britta smiles back at him. If he doesn’t know better, he’d say that she looks proud.
“Can I leave you alone now?”
“You’re lucky that they didn’t forget your room,” Sebastian jokes. Britta manages to roll her eyes at that. “I’ll head up in a second.”
“Alright,” Britta leans forward, giving him a brief kiss on the cheek. “See you around seven tomorrow?”
“I’ll call you.”
Britta lifts her bag from the floor. Before she heads for the lift, she turns to Sebastian again. “Be nice to him. You know he didn’t mean it.”
Sebastian nods. It isn’t the first time she said that to him.
He watches Britta leave, stares at the manager who’s still looking extremely embarrassed by it all, and decides then to walk towards the bar. Maybe he deserves a beer after all.
Or maybe he needs a boost of confidence for what’s to come.
Sebastian gives Charles twenty minutes. It only takes him five to finish his beer.
Of course, Sebastian doesn’t want to admit that he’s nervous to face him again. He doesn’t like that he’s stalling in front of Charles’ door, contemplating if his decision is right and what he should say first.
And then his phone rings and Sebastian answers before he realises his mistake.
“Are you still coming?” Charles asks immediately.
Sebastian can hear his voice twice. His real voice comes muffled from the other side of the door. The other, coming through his phone, slightly off.
Sebastian gulps. “I’m just outside.”
“What?”
“Your door.”
“Oh! Are you really—”
And then the door opens.
Charles, phone still pressed to his ear, stares at him for a second. Sebastian does the same.
Sebastian doesn’t remember the last time he saw Charles in casual clothes. Only joggers and a simple, maybe oversized white shirt. He looks so much more his age, he thinks. The weight of the team seemingly off his shoulders. Sebastian envies him for that.
Charles is the first one to laugh and hang up the phone. Sebastian merely mirrors him.
“Come in.” He opens the door to let Sebastian pass through. “Sorry for the mess.”
But there is no mess. His room is clean. No flying team shirts, no pre-race notes scattered on his desk. The only proof Sebastian has that this actually has been Charles’ room, are the slightly crumpled bed sheets and the leftover plates of his room service.
“Are you always this organised?” Sebastian asks sceptically.
“Uh, sometimes, I guess.” Charles shrugs.
Sebastian gives him a small smile before leaving his luggage at the foot of the bed.
“Do you need anything?” Charles asks, roaming around the room aimlessly.
“Can I use the bathroom for a while? I’d like to shower and get ready for bed.”
Charles plays with the used napkin on one of the plates. Sebastian wonders for a short second if he should also order room service, but decides against it. Too late for dinner anyways.
“Yep. Sure.” Charles gesticulates towards the bathroom door.
“Thanks.” Sebastian starts unpacking his stuff, searching for his pyjamas and his toiletries. It’s not worth unpacking too much. He’ll be out in just a couple of hours either way.
“Do you have some fresh towels?” Sebastian asks as he places all his stuff on the sink next to Charles’.
He refrains from touching any of Charles’ things. Although he is quite intrigued by the many hair products he uses. And he might have to ask Charles for a perfume suggestion one day, because who brings three different perfume bottles to a race weekend?
Charles joins him in the bathroom, touching all the towels that are hanging around, searching for one that isn’t damp. “I don’t think I do.”
“Are you okay if I just use one of yours?” Sebastian leans against the counter.
“Of course.” Charles already reaches for one of the bigger ones on the towel rack. “I can also call room service and bring you a fresh one—”
“It’s very late,” Sebastian says. “It’s fine with me if it’s fine with you.”
“It is.” Charles stares at him too seriously for someone who’s offering him a towel.
When Sebastian showers, he wonders why every interaction between them feels so excessive all the time.
Charles has been uncharacteristically quiet ever since Sebastian came out of the bathroom. He has made himself comfortable on his side of the bed, hidden under the sheets, phone in hand and not looking at Seb as he grabbed himself a bottle of water before pat drying his wet hair.
Actually, Charles hasn’t said a word when Sebastian joins him on the bed. And Sebastian is convinced that he deserves this type of treatment after last week.
Even though it was Charles who carelessly crashed into him during last week's Styrian Grand Prix, it was Sebastian who lashed out at him when things were already reaching their lowest points. Definitely not one of Seb’s proudest moments, but he can’t take back the things he said. Being angry at your teammate after a crash is normal. Being tossed aside by the team you loved and cared for, is not.
But Sebastian saw this coming.
The announcement.
The crashes.
The arguments.
It was him who started the silent treatment, to begin with. It is only fair that Charles gives him a bit of his own medicine for once. And now, Sebastian understands how difficult this deafening silence can be sometimes.
Charles locks his phone, places it on the nightstand to charge it and reaches out to turn off his bedside lamp.
“Goodnight,” he mumbles as he turns his back to Seb.
Sebastian stares at Charles for a second. He’s been reading his book for a couple of minutes now, his light still on.
Charles’ breaths are uneven, he observes. Some deep inhales that make his shoulder rise high, some shallow. One would say that he’s trying to calm himself. And perhaps it is the fact that Sebastian realises that he is the source of awkwardness and tension around them that he finally decides to break the silence.
“I’m sorry about what I said last week.” His voice sounds too loud and Sebastian cringes internally.
For a second, he thinks that Charles will just ignore him, pretend that he’s fallen asleep. But when was the last time Sebastian apologised to anyone?
Charles shrugs, the sheets rustling gently. “You were angry.”
“Yes.”
A short silence again, some time to let Charles think about what to say next.
“Did you mean it?”
Sebastian closes his eyes. Of course, he meant it. Means it. He wouldn’t have said these things lightheartedly. But Charles turns around, staring at the ceiling, hands resting on his stomach and Sebastian thinks that he looks heart-wrenchingly vulnerable like that.
“Not everything, no.”
Charles snorts, his eyes flicking over to Sebastian. “You are a reckless driver, Charles. A danger on track,” Charles repeats the cursed words' word for word and Sebastian has the urge to turn off the lights completely. “Did you mean those?”
Sebastian rubs his fingers over his lips. “The first one maybe a little. You did crash into me.” Another snort, this one a bit more defiant. It makes Sebastian smile. “But you’re not a danger. That was just my anger and frustration speaking.”
At this, Charles turns around, his hands tucked underneath his pillow as he looks up at Seb. “I apologised.”
Sebastian puts the book on his bedside table before sinking down on his pillow to be at eye-level with Charles.
“But did you mean it?”
Charles frowns. “Of course, I mean it.”
Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Drivers usually lie to keep the team happy.”
“I am not lying,” Charles sounds more defensive now, scooting back a bit to create more space between them. “It was a mistake, I told you.”
“I know,” Sebastian tries to soothe the fire that is threatening to rise in Charles’ chest. “I am not lying either.”
Charles stares at him, his mouth twitching as if he wants to say something else, but silencing himself.
The ticking of the alarm clock across the room sounds incredibly loud, Sebastian notes then, when both of them are silent again. He wishes he could turn the time back to how it was before between them. He likes it when Charles talks passionately, but he doesn’t like to fight.
He’s been growing tired of fighting for a while now.
Charles, perhaps sensing the sadness radiating off of Sebastian, lets himself slump down into the duvet again, a sigh escaping his mouth as he does. Sebastian can’t help but stare. The thought of vulnerability creeps into his mind again.
“This is a bit awkward, isn’t it?” Charles eventually says, a smile tugging at his lips.
Sebastian doesn’t expect this sort of honesty from Charles at all.
He nods. “It is.”
“I would have never thought that we would share rooms like this,” Charles chuckles, turning to his back again. “Feels a bit like a class trip, no?”
Sebastian has to chuckle too. “It does.”
“I don’t know if I can fall asleep like that,” Charles says, casually so, Sebastian might add. He hasn’t thought about that before. The nervousness that comes with sleeping with someone you don’t know well. The primal anxiousness of the unknown. They’d both struggle during practice tomorrow.
“When was the last time you shared a room?” Sebastian asks and regrets it immediately. Maybe not the best way to start the conversation. But Charles laughs, and Sebastian tugs his duvet closer to his chest.
“Charlotte?” Charles just says, raising an eyebrow at Sebastian as if to say “Seriously?”.
“Oh.”
Charles is giggling now and Sebastian can’t do anything but join him. This whole situation seems so bizarre to Sebastian now.
“They say that falling asleep next to someone is one of the biggest proofs of trust, did you know that?” Sebastian asks. Charles shakes his head. “Our instinct doesn’t want us to fall asleep next to other people in case they murder us in our sleep. So if you do, your subconscious is completely trusting the other person.”
“I’ve never heard that.”
“No?” Seb can’t help but smirk. “But it’s interesting, right?”
Charles nods. Sebastian watches as Charles stares holes into the beige coloured ceiling.
And maybe it’s because Seb knows that he might never get a chance like this again—not with him leaving the team by the end of the season—that he decides to propose a dangerous game. Or maybe, and Sebastian really doesn’t like this thought at all, it is the fact that he’s been craving to be someone else for quite some time now.
Maybe it’s the urge to escape, if only for one night.
And who better to understand this want than Charles?
“You know what? Let’s play a game. Let’s pretend we are someone else.”
Charles looks intrigued when he faces Seb again. “Someone else?”
“Yeah. Pick different names, jobs… You name it.”
Charles blows out his cheeks. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Sebastian agrees.
They look at each other expectantly. Charles' smile grows wider with every passing second in which Sebastian doesn’t talk. “How do we start?”
“Names, no?”
“Hm…” Charles furrows his brows as he thinks about a name. “What about Daniel?”
“For you?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” Sebastian asks, not sure how he can tell Charles that that would create even more awkwardness between them.
“What?” Charles says defiantly. Then his shoulders sack. “Oh.”
“Not the best choice.” Sebastian gives Charles a sympathetic smile.
Charles’ hand fidgets towards his mouth. “Can you just pick mine and I pick yours?”
“That’s a good idea.”
And as soon as Sebastian agrees, Charles turns to fetch his phone, tapping away.
“Are you…” Sebastian leans closer to see what Charles is actually doing. “Googling names?”
“Yeah.” Charles shrugs, searching for the most popular German names in the year 2020. Sebastian wants to reach for the phone and tell him to use his brain, but if he’s honest, he could use some inspiration too.
A couple of minutes pass, Charles smirking mischievously as he scrolls down what seems like a never-ending list of names and nodding to himself from time to time. Sebastian contemplates his life.
“Aha!” Charles blurts eventually. “I got mine.” He puts his phone away to turn towards Seb again who’s watching him cautiously.
“Do you?”
“Yep.” Charles smiles proudly. “Do you have one?”
“I think I do.”
“Do you want me to go first? Wait no— can you go first? Or no, if you want I can do it—”
“Let’s just both say it at the same time,” Sebastian interrupts. He almost wants to put a hand on Charles’ shoulder to calm him down. He realises that he is so close, he would not even have to extend his arm all the way to reach Charles at all.
“Okay,” Charles nods. “1, 2, 3—”
“Henri.”
“Sven.”
“Sven?” Sebastian repeats, his face reading nothing but sheer confusion.
“Oh, I like Henri!” Charles says. “You don’t like Sven?”
“You looked at your phone for minutes to pick out Sven.”
“You don’t like it.” Charles' smile drops. “I can pick another if you want. I have a list.”
Before Charles can turn to reach for his phone again, Sebastian does reach out to grab his shoulder.
“I like Sven.”
Charles stares at him.
Sebastian stares back.
Charles’ gaze moves towards where Seb’s hand is resting on his arm, still holding him.
Sebastian lets him go.
“Do we start?” Charles asks, his voice small. Sebastian leans back into his pillow, trying not to think about the softness of the fabric of Charles’ shirt. Or was it his skin? Seb doesn’t remember.
Sebastian nods and Charles tucks himself more comfortably into his bedsheets, a playful smile on his face. He looks adorable, Sebastian thinks for a moment.
“Nice to meet you… Sven,” Charles says, on the verge of laughing.
“Likewise Henri,” Sebastian smiles back.
“What are you doing… here?” Charles pulls a face but Seb nods at him encouragingly.
“You invited me here, don’t you remember?”
He can almost see Charles blushing at that. He tries not to dwell on it.
“Oh, yeah. I did, right?” Charles mumbles.
“And you bought me a drink too. I hope you remember that,” Sebastian winks. If not Charles, then at least he was having fun with this.
“Of course!” Charles runs his hand through his hair. “That was fun… wasn’t it?”
“It was.”
Charles lets out a frustrated huff. “This is stupid.”
“It’s working though, isn’t it?”
Charles studies Seb for a moment, pondering the words.
“It is,” he nods.
This time Sebastian waits patiently for Charles.
It’s always the extremes between them. A fine line between fun and destruction. Oil and water.
There is this strange, determined look on Charles’ face. One that Sebastian sometimes catches shortly before a race. One he knows all too well during the many challenge videos they filmed so far.
“What do you do for a living, Sven?”
“Good question,” Sebastian whispers at him, a compliment outside of the charade to encourage Charles. That proud smile makes its way back on Charles’ face.
“I’m a baker.”
“A baker?” Charles looks taken aback by that. Maybe a bit confused as to how fast Sebastian is getting into his new persona.
“Yeah.”
“I should’ve known,” Charles smirks.
“Why is that?”
Charles nods towards Seb’s arm. “Your muscles.”
Oh.
“My muscles?" Sebastian certainly doesn’t expect that.
“Mhm,” Charles hums and casually, as if it is the most natural thing in the world, reaches out to grab Seb’s left upper arm and squeezes. “See? Like I thought.”
Confusion rumbles through Sebastian’s head. He doesn’t remember the last time Charles was so cheeky to him.
“You’re very observant, aren’t you, Henri?”
Charles gives his arm another squeeze, maybe as a form of challenge, an apology, or just because he wants to and he can, before letting go. But Sebastian finds himself wishing that he wouldn’t— that he’d continue being this carefree… and flirty.
“I guess I am.”
“What do you do?” Sebastian asks. He can still feel Charles’ phantom touch on his skin. His hand is just as soft as his shirt, he notes.
Charles blinks. “I’m a painter.”
“What do you paint?”
“People.” The answers seem to come easier to Charles, Sebastian notices.
Who would've thought that things can be this easy between them?
“What kinds of people?”
“People that I find interesting. Pretty people…” Charles’ mouth curves up into a smile. “I would like to draw you one day. If you let me, of course.
Sebastian props his head up his hand. “You’d draw me?”
He doesn’t understand why he’s so surprised.
“You’re one of the prettiest people I know.”
And they have now reached a point where Sebastian doesn’t know where the pretending starts and the truth ends. Charles’ smile certainly hasn’t faltered. Seb’s tempted to ask Charles, but the risk of bursting their bubble holds him back.
“How many people do you know, Henri?”
“Oh. Many,” Charles chuckles.
For the first time in a long time, Sebastian blushes. “I’m flattered.”
Charles looks proud, and Sebastian notes that he has missed this look on his face.
“Will you let me?”
“Let you what?” Sebastian can’t help himself but stare at Charles’ lips for a second too long.
“Paint you?”
“If you let me bake for you.”
Charles giggles and Sebastian feels like he’s walking into a trap that’s been made only for him.
“What would you bake for me?” Charles asks curiously, scooting closer just a little more. Charles smells like one of his perfume bottles on his sink, uses Colgate toothpaste, and has incredibly long eyelashes, Sebastian realises in a span of a second.
“What is your favourite baked treat?”
Charles purses his lips. “Maybe carrot cake?”
“Sure I can—”
“No, wait! I want an Eclair. Those are super hard.”
Sebastian has trouble stopping himself from laughing.
“If we had a kitchen here, I would’ve made you one right now.”
Not pretend. The truth.
Sebastian would bake Charles every baked good on this planet if he asks for it. Damn it, he is half tempted to call room service to go to the nearest bakery and make some for Charles right now. It scares him how little self-control he seemingly has left.
Charles shifts beside him, tugging the blanket a bit higher to his face, maybe trying to hide the same blush that’s been developing on Seb’s cheeks as well.
Charles coughs. “What do you like about baking the most?”
Sebastian doesn’t need to make up an answer for this one either. “The fact that you can just forget about everything else for a short while, you know? You just— bake. And if you nail it, it’s very rewarding.”
“Because you get to eat your creations?” Charles nudges him playfully and Sebastian feels a tingle running down his spine.
“That’s definitely one of the reasons.”
Charles smiles. Genuinely.
“Why do you paint?”
Charles seems to think about this question for a second. “To capture special moments. To not forget them, I guess.”
“But photographs do the same, no?”
“Yeah, but it’s more personal when the memory is created from the way you see things. Not the way your phone sees it. Makes it a bit more personal, you know?”
And Sebastian is, probably for the first time in his life, at loss for words at something Charles says. It’s been a while since they talked so earnestly about something outside of racing.
“That sounds… poetic.”
“Thank you,” Charles looks away, smiling.
This time, with another short silence approaching, it’s more comfortable. Like a normal conversation just simmering down for a second. A little breather for the both of them.
“If I were the baker and you the painter,” Charles starts again, “would you paint me?”
Sebastian doesn’t have to think twice about his answer. “I would.”
He also tries not to think about the implications behind this question.
“And how many people do you know?” Charles raises an eyebrow.
“I know the whole world, Henri. And I’d still paint you.”
Charles’ breath hits Seb’s face ever so gently. A small gasp, almost not audible at all. Their faces are so close that Sebastian could taste Charles’ toothpaste on his lips if he wants to.
He wonders if Charles wants to taste him too.
“What would you paint first?” Charles whispers.
“Your eyes,” Sebastian answers without hesitation. “What about you?”
“Your lips.”
This surprises Sebastian. Charles takes his silence and scoots even closer, their chests now touching. Sebastian watches as Charles lifts his hand slowly and puts one finger on the corner of Seb’s mouth.
“I would start here,” Charles says, his voice small.
Sebastian parts his lips instinctively when Charles’ finger ever so softly grazes over his bottom lip. “...And continue here.”
Charles’ fingers are gentle. Like feathers on his skin, so soft that Sebastian finds himself holding back a moan that’s rising in his throat.
“I really love this area the most,” Charles’ voice is so low now, Seb almost can’t hear him over both of their heavy breathing. His fingers trace over Seb’s cupid’s bow, smoothing over it as if trying to remember the little curve in his head for the painting he’d draw tomorrow.
Sebastian feels as if his skin is on fire, ready to burn to ashes.
“I would really like to kiss you, Sven.”
And Sebastian almost laughs, given how Charles’ lips are practically almost on his. So many sensations, all at once. But he can’t deny himself more. Maybe this is what he’s been waiting for all along.
“Then do it.”
Charles is the one to close the small gap between them, to put his hand on the back of Seb’s neck and pull him closer, whimpering into Seb’s mouth when he parts his lips to let him explore more.
Sebastian doesn’t realise how badly he wants to give Charles more of himself.
“Seb,” Charles moans and cringes immediately when he remembers the carefully crafted game they were playing just moments ago. “Shit, I’m sorry—”
“Shh,” Sebastian interrupts, their lips still touching. “It’s okay.”
He’s not opening his eyes. He knows that Charles is looking at him with that pained expression. He doesn’t think he can handle it right now. Sebastian thinks the only thing he can handle right now is kissing Charles until he can’t remember where Sven begins and Sebastian ends.
So they start kissing again.
“Can you say it?” Charles whispers against Seb’s neck.
“Say what?”
Charles doesn’t answer right away. Sebastian turns his face to kiss him on the cheek. He’s soft everywhere.
“My name,” he finally says, leaning back a bit to look at Sebastian. “I want to hear you say it.”
Sebastian can feel Charles’ hands brushing over his hair, feels how aroused he’s growing between his legs, and feels how pliant Charles is getting in his arms.
He doesn’t remember a time when Charles asked him for anything so seriously.
So Sebastian swallows. His own hands find their way into Charles’ hair, smoothing over it to feel the softness between his fingers. Just like he always imagines.
“Charles,” Sebastian whispers. It feels right.
And Charles gasps. Hips bucking into Seb’s for some form of release that Seb doesn’t think Charles would need from a simple kiss.
He says it again.
It‘s heavy on his tongue. As if he‘s opening his mouth underwater. And maybe that‘s the perfect way to describe what Sebastian's feeling like— drowning.
Drowning in pleasure.
Drowning in a storm of guilt.
Drowning together.
With every kiss, a part of Sebastian feels as if it‘s washing away in the sea. No more fighting, no disappointment… just him and Charles. Two halves of one whole.
Maybe it has always been their similar circumstances, the similar prophecies of their careers, the same hardships that they are carrying on their shoulders, the same deep-rooted loneliness that always brings them together.
Sebastian thinks that what they are doing right now: kissing, pretending—perhaps even falling for each other—is all inevitable.
“Fuck, Seb,” Charles’ voice is muffled against Seb’s neck. “You have no idea how much I—”
“No,” Sebastian interrupts. “Don’t say it.”
Charles stills in his arms.
“Please,” Sebastian tries again. Charles has to understand him. He has to. “Don’t.”
If Sebastian realises what he’s doing, he might just run out to the dark and abandoned streets of Budapest.
“Okay,” Charles nods.
Sebastian wants to pull him closer. He does pull Charles closer. There is not an inch of room left between them. Sebastian hopes that that is enough for Charles.
It has to be enough.
“Can I kiss you again?”
Sebastian hates that Charles’ voice comes out wobbly.
Instead of answering, he leans down again, kissing Charles more softly, more tenderly.
“Can I touch you?”
Sebastian wants to make a joke. He wants to say “but you are already touching me,” and make Charles laugh.
He doesn’t.
He nods.
He feels Charles’ hand wander from Seb’s neck down his chest, faltering when they are hovering over his tummy and almost not even noticeable when he’s gently tugging at Sebastian’s joggers.
“It’s okay,” Sebastian encourages, breathing down on Charles’ head. “Would it make things easier if I touch you too?”
He can almost hear Charles whimper before he nods.
Sebastian isn’t as slow and gentle and unsure as Charles. He let’s go of Charles’ hair only to bury his hand into the exposed flesh of his waist. Seb twirls his thumb into the hem of Charles’ boxers’.
Charles is trembling. His forehead slumps on Seb’s shoulder with a shaky breath.
“What am I allowed to… what do you want me to…” Charles gulps. “What can I—”
“Do whatever it is you want me to do.”
And like opening the floodgates, Charles finally has the courage to take what he’s been apparently craving for. Sebastian hisses when he feels Charles’ hand wrap, a little too tight around him. There are things he wants to say, sentences he has neatly crafted in his head in the many dreams that have been similar to this, but Seb’s mouth is dry, his eyes pressed shut and he feels like he’s going to come embarrassingly fast from the slow and treacherous pace that Charles is going for.
“Charles,” Sebastian moans out. “Faster. You need to go faster.”
He can feel Charles smirk against his skin. “Only if you do it too.”
Sebastian hasn’t even noticed that he stopped his exploration. He lets his own hand wander down into Charles’ underwear, finding Charles more than just a little excited.
Charles chuckles. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“What is?”
“I’m just— you just kissed me and I’m like this.” Charles raises his hips to meet Seb’s slow pumps.
With his other free hand, Sebastian cards through Charles’ hair, tugging his head back gently to look at him. Seb’s bedside table lamp is still glowing. The light reflects in Charles’ eyes, making them appear more glossy than usual.
Sebastian has never seen something this beautiful before.
“I’m like this too, aren’t I?”
Charles looks down at his hand in Seb’s pants as if he’s trying to convince himself that the feeling is mutual. And with enough proof being gathered, Charles lifts his head again, shifting his hips to meet Sebastian’s hand.
“Can I kiss you when I…?”
Charles doesn’t even need to lick his lips, doesn’t need to bat his eyelashes for Sebastian to agree immediately, but he still does and Sebastian is seriously reaching his limit.
For the last time that night, Seb kisses Charles. He lets Charles explore his mouth, lets Charles whimper against his lips, and lets Charles moan his name as often as he wants.
Bliss finds them both too fast, too soon.
Charles is quiet when he comes. He stills and almost chokes on his own groans.
Sebastian wants to bury his teeth in Charles’ neck when he follows Charles only seconds after.
Neither of them let go of the other as they calm down. Charles is the one who brushes his nose against Seb’s collarbone in search of warmth.
They use the towel which Sebastian showered with.
They change their clothes without turning away from each other.
Charles has a content smile on his lips.
Sebastian gives him one back when their eyes meet.
As they make their way to bed, it’s not a question of if Charles and Sebastian would cuddle.
They simply do.
They don’t sleep.
Sebastian draws random shapes of Charles’ back.
They smell of toothpaste and perfume.
Charles asks if they are going to talk about it tomorrow morning.
Seb doesn’t know.
Charles seems to be okay with that.
They stay—intertwined and warm together—for the rest of the night.
They don’t talk about it in the morning.
They never talk about it ever again.
Not when Charles crashes in Monza.
Not when Sebastian leaves after Abu-Dhabi.
Not when they swap helmets and well-wishes.
But sometimes, Seb will call Charles Henri.
And sometimes, Charles will call Seb Sven.
And that's enough for them.