GENTLE VIOLENCE - Lestappen

1. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas

2023 Season

Charles Leclerc

Losing power on the very first GP of the season. Was there any worse way to start a season? Charles didn't think so and it sure as hell stung to run off into the sidelines and then at the end of the race see both Red Bulls on the podium with Max in first.

Of course by now Charles nor anyone else for that matter could imagine that the dutchman would go off to win 18 races this season with only one left this very weekend in Abu Dhabi.

But Charles wasn't exactly excited for the last race if he was totally honest with himself and it had nothing to do with Max's wins or the fact that there was nothing left to win.

No all of the driver were very aware that here wasn't anything left to win, to lose- to gain or to find out. But Charles didn't care too much sitting in a cramped car with Max and Sergio after the Vegas Grand Prix. As long as he could stay here, in their post race afterglow forever he would be happy this way.

Still it's with some bittersweetness that he remembers time and time again that they only have one more race on their hands before the season is over.

At least with the excuse of a GP, Charles knew whenever he'd see the boys in the paddock again. He knew what his plans were almost every other weekend and he knew when he'd see Max.

See there is where the pain is, what makes this all so uncomfortable and why this season feels like the worst yet to end.

Over the years a rivalry had grown to a friendship that had grown to a very good friendship. And now? Charles would almost argue that it was a bit of a comfort. It didn't feel right not to see Max on the weekends.

Weekends spent alone were spent opening and closing Max's contact on his phone, the Monégasque driver unsure if he was being clingy or not by sending a text or even calling him up. But sitting alone in an apartment after another relationship gone to the dogs? It left his mind empty and his heart aching for no reason and hearing Max's voice was like a cold pack that soothed that ache.

If only a little.

But right now Charles didn't have time to sulk, to think deeply about the coming weeks or really do anything other than get ready for the night. They're whisked away towards the media, then taken out of their race suits and Charles is soon in another car- well dressed and ready for a night out on the town to celebrate.

Vegas was... well, Vegas.

Blaring house music, bodies pressed against each other, alcohol and way too many photos taken that they'll regret the next day.

The grand afterparty was held at a casino and Charles couldn't help but to maybe have one or... three too many drinks. He couldn't help but to spend maybe a little more than appropriate. But it's okay- because he's currently several hours later, leaning up against the three time world champion, his head on Max's shoulder in the back of a car that he isn't sure how they got in.

He's comfortable here, breathing in the scent of the other man- his nose pushed up against the slightly stubbly neck of his old rival and Max smells like himself. And maybe still some champagne?

It's only a matter of minutes before they're back at the hotel and Max holds out a hand as they step out of the car, having already paid the driver.

"Come?" He says and Charles could never say no, taking Max's hand in his own with a drunk little chuckle, following him up towards the hotel and for a moment they're not world famous F1 drivers. They're fumbling, stupid teenage boys- laughing as Max can't seem to get up the stairs outside of the hotel properly and Charles grips his hand even harder as they manage to soon hurry through the lobby.