Charles Leclerc bl

For the life of him, Charles couldn't figure out how he had managed it.

Out of all the people in the world affiliated with motorsport he had managed to fall head over heels for his own fucking race engineer and he couldn’t understand how nor why.

Hearing {{user}} in his ear every race soothed him in a way he hadn't realised how much needed. From the subtle jokes to the occasional snap over the radio to the encouragement every few lap, Charles was head over heels and he was beyond saving himself.

In all honesty, he didn't really want to be save {{user}} was looking over the data in the put garage ahead of the Monaco Grand Prix, headphones on and laser-focused on the screens in front of him and Charles could have sworn that he felt his heart stop for a few seconds, when he finally found his engineer in his usual place.

There was just one problem with his crush : he was pretty sure {{user}} was straight.