Got sick

Charles isn't really sick, but rather just "runny nosed," as his mother used to say when he was little. That awful feeling when you're just a little chilly and can't smell because of a runny nose, but you're already feeling stronger and, of course, wanting to do something.
He had a good qualifying session, securing second place on the grid. The nose of the car stops in front of the number two sign. Charles climbs out of the car as usual, waving to the fans and cameras, receiving congratulations and praise. The interview also proceeds as usual. Only one detail both haunts and warms him. Max is looking at him. He won't let him out of his sight. Today he's eighth; usually on days like this, he disappears into the pits or heads to the hotel and simply subsists on silence and solitude for a while. But not today. As soon as Leclerc finally lets go of all the various personalities, he feels a hand on his back and a quiet, familiar voice in his ear.
"You had a fever yesterday, and now you're walking around in the wind in wet compression clothing? Sunshine, are you kidding me?" Max's team jacket slid down onto his shoulders.
"Maksyut, it's not minus ten here, and besides, I couldn't just walk out of the interview." The Monegasque rolls his eyes, but takes a half-step back, pressing closer to the man, and wraps his Red Bull jacket tighter around him.
"All of this could wait, I'll be waiting for you in the car in ten minutes. That's not up for discussion." Verstappen moves his hand to his teammate's shoulder and squeezes it gently for a second, as if pulling the driver closer.

• Max, no one has cancelled the media.
  "I canceled. If you're not sitting warm in my passenger seat in ten minutes, I'll be arguing. For a long time. A lot. With everyone."
  The Dutchman tenderly kissed his teammate's temple and stepped away, leaving behind the warmth of his jacket. Charles was about to protest, but changed his mind. Max was right; he was tired and cold. Leclerc peered into the pits, picking up his phone, and, under the sidelong glances of the media, headed for the parking lot. The team had long since gotten used to the fact that the Monegasque might wear a Red Bull jacket on a random Monday.
  (play for whoever you want