Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“It’s going to be fine”, Charles assures his client again, head tilted towards her so he can keep his voice low, while still maintaining his view of the rest of the room. His eyes flicker around as he takes in the people that were slowly filtering in, slowly adding them to the internal tally he had going on in his head.

Judge Johnson was set to preside, an old man in his fifties, who usually leaned more conservatively. One point in their favor. He also had a vacation house in Cape Cod close to his client’s, Charles makes a mental not to work it into his opening statement. Another point in their favor.

“Are you sure?”, Mrs. McGregor whispers against his ear, her voice moist and carrying a distinct smell of sour cigarettes. Charles has to physically stop himself from letting a shiver run through his body.

“Positive”, he says self-assuredly. The evidence was not on their side, truth be told, but that did nothing to dampen Charles’ complete confidence that they judge would rule in their favor. The maid that Mrs. McGregor had baselessly accused of theft and fired had, fortunately for them, not been able to afford to hire an attorney on her own, and consequently, been appointed one by the state, which in her case ended up being Gregory Mass. A man, who’s complete lack of skill, could be attributed the entirety of Charles confidence in their ability to win the case.

Upon being assigned to the case, Charles had been quick to look into his earlier track record, finding that not only had Mass lost most of his other cases, even the ones Charles deemed to be completely clean cut, he was also a notorious slacker. Misfiled evidence, showing up late to court, indecent behavior with a client, the list seemed to be never ending, and only a few days ago, Charles had been made privy to the information that Mass had an exceptionally bad reputation amongst certain judges, one of which were Judge Johnson. Lucas Mann, a particularly handsome court stenographer, had told him that a few months back, Mass spent almost an hour on his opening statement, before realizing it was for the wrong case.

This, combined with Charles utmost confidence in his own abilities, meant that, although the evidence was most definitely not on their side, (in Charles’s professional opinion, Mrs. McGregor was a horrible, awful woman and had absolutely fired her maid in clear violation of the present working contract), he was still quite certain he’d be able to win the case.

His eyes continue roaming over the room, and briefly glancing over to the plaintiff’s side, he observes that Mrs. Jones is still sitting alone, apart from what looks to be a very nervous paralegal, that kept fiddling with the lock on his briefcase. There is no sign of Mass anywhere, and upon glancing down at the watch on his wrist and seeing that there are only five minutes left until their allotted time, Charles feels a small smile slipping over his face.

This is going to be a walk in the park, he thinks to himself and leans back in his chair. Perhaps if they finished early enough, he’d have time to go out for lunch? Charles is already debating what he feels like eating, when a voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Leclerc, nice to see you again”, the voice sounds from behind him, and he has to force himself not to roll his eyes as he turns in his seat, plastering on a polite smile before meeting the eyes of the all-too familiar source of the voice.

“Sainz”, he answers in a mock cheerful tone, and looks up to see none other than Carlos Sainz Jr. dressed in his signature dark suit, hair artfully tussled and pulled back from his face and his hands casually tucked into his pocket, stance relaxed and confident, “I didn’t know you guys had so little to do that you had time to just hang around in court all day”, he says with a mocking smile, “you know, if you’re having trouble picking up clients, I’m sure Brennan and Moore could help you out”, the firm had been bankrupted just a few months earlier. Sainz purses his lips in amusement and takes another step towards him, seeming completely unfazed by the comment, and Charles is suddenly very annoyed that he’s still sitting down as he feels the other man practically towering above him.

“Ah, I see you haven’t done your homework properly enough, Leclerc”, Sainz starts smugly, “I’m handling this case now”, a half smirk plays on his lips and Charles feels a cold chill running down his spine, and he takes a breath trying to keep the shock from showing on his face.

“I’m sorry, what? Since when?”, he asks as casually as he can, an involuntary frown coming over his features. There was no way Sainz could be handling the case, he had looked at the case documents just hours earlier and Mass had clearly been listed at the opposing council, Charles was certain of it. Or- he quickly wracks his brain trying to picture the document in front of him again, had he seen Mass’ name?

Either way, it didn’t make sense for Sainz to be there, the maid was working class and currently unemployed, even if she had somehow managed to scrape together something or crowdsource some money, there was no way she’d be able to hire Sainz. Maybe someone from some low-status firm or a startup looking for traction with the bigger charity organizations, but never Sainz, he was almost as expensive as Charles himself.

“I took it on as pro-bono a few days ago”, Sainz explains as if he was able to read Charles’ mind, “the time frame was a bit tighter than what we’re used to, but with evidence as clearcut as this”, Sainz lets out a small whistle and Charles feels his heart racing in his chest at the dawning realization that he had fucked up.

“-although I have to say, Leclerc, despite that I had my reservations taking it on, seeing as I’d be up against you, I mean, who am I compared to the chosen one”, normally Charles would bristle at the nickname and mock Sainz for admitting his reservations, but now he feels frozen and Sainz continues undeterred, “but seeing as you’ve missed something as big as this”, he raises his eyebrows and gives a half shrug of his shoulders. Charles feels annoyance and anger flairs up within him now, but Sainz doesn’t give him time to say anything else before continuing.

“I have to say I’m surprised, this isn’t like you Leclerc”, he shakes his head in a disappointed way and walks away without another word. For some reason Charles feels it to his core. It wasn’t like him to care about petty insults and certainly not ones from the opposing council, but Sainz’s words had struck a nerve within him, likely because what he was saying was true.

It wasn’t like him to miss something like this, but he had been distracted with another, higher profile case over the last few weeks, and after his discoveries about Mass, this one had been left completely on the backburner. It had been a selfish decision, uncharacteristically arrogant and self-servingly motivated, as he’d figured the other case was what would finally earn him name partner.

It was perhaps only fitting that it would knock him a step down instead, and he truly feared that it would, because Binotto would not be happy with him if he lost this case. Mrs. McGregor’s husband was a close friend of his and he had personally assigned the case to Charles with the passing words that he “would only trust him with it”. Binotto hadn’t said it verbatim, but Charles had still known, felt it in his gut, that this was it, the first sign that he would be named name partner, the youngest in the firm’s history.

The nickname had been appointed to him as he was picked up straight out of law school, Il Predestinato. He was the chosen one, the first to make name partner since Binotto and Vettel had started the firm, and the youngest in the firm’s history to make partner at all.

Charles feels his stomach tighten into a knot of nerves as he casts another look in Sainz’s direction, seeing that he had taken his place next to the maid, Mrs. Jones, and was looking over a paper with her.

The nerves weren’t unfounded either, despite his confidence in himself, Charles couldn’t deny that Carlos Sainz Jr. was one of the most talented lawyers working in New York. His cases were always executed flawlessly, there was never a crumb left unturned in terms of evidence and you couldn’t find a comma out of place in his case work. The man was ruthless, with a razor-sharp attention to detail, that made him nearly impossible to beat.

Nothing got past Sainz, and he rarely ever lost a case, which meant that with him being  a few years older than Charles, he had even more wins than him. Charles lets his eyes travel over to the other man’s face, seeing that his eyes are furrowed in concentration as he whispers something in his client’s ear. As if noticing he’s being watched, Sainz’s eyes snap up to meet his in a hard stare.

Charles had always thought his eyes were intense, and today was no different. The first time they had met in court, Sainz had looked over to meet his eyes and Charles had nearly cowered away his gaze, intimidated by the sharpness of it. Charles had won that case, and had figured that that would dampen its effect, but he still felt it now, like a tingling at the bottom of his spine, as if the other man could see right through him.

He shakes the feeling off and casts a sideways look to his own client, who was tapping away at her brand-new, shiny phone, and immediately hisses at her to put it away. She sends him an annoyed look, but does as she is told. Now that Sainz was here the odds were stacked against them, no matter where Judge Johnson liked to vacation. Still, Charles wasn’t one to back away from a challenge.

I’m going to win this, he thinks to himself, I’m going to win. Binotto Vettel Leclerc, Charles can already picture it in his head, his name plastered on the wall in the lobby.

I’m going to win.

They lose.  

Charles keeps his own frustration and disappointment to himself as he goes through the necessary procedures to appeal the case, assures his client again that it will be fine and that they’ll look into striking a deal with the maid’s representatives; her recently acquired, fucking genius, representatives.

It’s only as he’s finally been able to leave the courthouse and caught a taxi to one of his favorite hotel bars that he lets his shoulder slump and runs a frustrated hand across his face.

“Carlos fucking Sainz”, he mutters to himself and shakes his head, “may your coffee taste like shit for the rest of the week”.

With it being a Tuesday, the bar is quiet, to Charles’ great relief, and he is quick to sink into a chair at the back of the room. He orders an old fashioned and relaxes into his seat, content to brood and wallow in his own self-pity for the time being.

The night drags on and having felt particularly sorry for himself, Charles is on his third drink by the time he drags his eyes away from where they had been pointedly fixed on the bar, to swerve around the room, where they instantly land on a familiar shape. The alcohol burning in his veins is effective in shutting down the small trickles of doubt forming in his mind, and he quickly stands up, grabbing his drink and making his way over to the table.

He places his drink down on the table, catching the attention of the person sitting there and then nods towards the empty seat, raising a questioning eyebrow. Sainz smirks up at him and nods, making an inviting gesture with his hand.

“Sainz”, he says in a way of greeting and the smirk of Sainz’s face grows, they sit in silence for a few seconds before Charles speaks up again, “I’m beginning to think you’re following me, seeing as I can’t seem to catch a fucking break from you today”.

“You walked over here”, Sainz states simply in reply, leaning slightly forwards in his seat before continuing, “and it’s after hours, so you can call me by my first name”, his right brow twitches slightly as he speaks, as if he’s inviting him to a challenge. He doesn’t think Charles remembers his name. Charles smirks slightly and leans forwards as well.

“How generous of you-“, he pauses for a brief second, “Carlos”. The other smiles.

“I see you’ve come here to lick your wounds”, Carlos says next, and Charles raises his glass in cheers, giving a curt nod.

“-and you’ve come here to celebrate, I presume”, Charles replies, surprised to see Carlos shaking his head. He lifts his glass and takes a sip before speaking up.

“Nothing to celebrate in this case, wouldn’t you agree?”, he says surprisingly softly, Charles’ brows furrow in confusion.

“You won the case”, he says ridiculously.

“Mrs. Jones still doesn’t have a job”, Carlos counters and Charles rolls his eyes, “you know she’s got four children to support”.  

“Okay, Mother Theresa, whatever you say”, he says with a snort, watching Carlos furrow his brows at him, “don’t act so high and mighty, I’ve seen you defend pharmaceutical companies.”

“Against millionaires who had bought the drugs illegally”, Carlos says, but Charles still shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter, you should know that big pharma is always the bad guy, so you’re still just as morally corrupt as me, it’s better to just accept it and move on”, he says, Carlos shakes his head, but chuckles slightly, catching someone’s eye over Charles’ shoulder and signaling them over.

“Alright, Charles”, he says, a strange, soft look falling over his face, and a warm thrill shoots through Charles’ body at hearing his name on the other man’s lips, something almost strangely erotic about it, “How about I buy you a drink as an apology for obliterating you in court today?”, the cocky, self-assured smile is back on Carlos’ face, all softness gone.

Charles snorts and considers refusing him, but then again, he wasn’t one to turn down a free drink.

Charles had never really talked to Carlos before, apart from the occasional quips back and forth in court, he didn’t think he’d said more than five words to the guy, but the conversation still flows effortlessly, as if they’ve known each other forever.

Carlos is surprising; funnier than Charles had ever expected and more intelligent than he’d feared. There is no politeness between them, Carlos doesn’t hesitate to disagree with him over even the smallest of things and although Charles almost thinks that he should be offended by it, he instead finds that it thrills him.

They speak about things he hasn’t been able to talk to anyone else about, flowing from work-related topics to politics and ethics flawlessly, no need for a pause to explain anything and Charles is quick to realize that in addition to his sharp mind, Carlos is also strangely kind, which makes him oddly endearing. Charles couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone he thought to be truly kind and can’t really put his finger on what it was about him that made him so, he just, was. Moreover, the discovery that found Carlos Sainz Jr. to be endearing was mind-blowing to say the least, considering the self-assured confidence and control the man usually executed in court.

He just wasn’t the type of man one would think could be endearing. Intimidating? Yes. Powerful? Sure. Admirable? Yes, Charles assumed, at least to some. But endearing, lovable, soft? Never in a million years. And yet – he was.

The thought strikes Charles that he would like for the other man to be his friend, to spend more time with him, although, that particular desire quickly turns into something darker as the drinks start to add up, and he takes the time to truly appreciate the other man’s looks.

The jacket he’d been wearing in court was thrown over the back of his chair, leaving him in a shirt that left little to the imagination in terms of the size of his chest and arms. Charles trails his eyes across the vast expanse of his shoulders, sees the parts of his arms where the fabric of the shirt is straining against the bulging muscles underneath and feels a hot thrill shooting through his body.

He lifts his glass to his mouth and takes a sip, feeling the drink burn through his veins and mixing with the desire that was starting to simmer in the pit of his stomach. It almost feels as if his entire body is on fire and he continues trailing his eyes over the other man over the rim of his glass; the broad shoulders, shirt straining against his arms, the small triangle of skin showing where he had unbuttoned the top buttons. As Carlos turns his head slightly to the side, a vein pops out of his neck and Charles can’t help wondering what it would be like to trace it with his tongue.

Fuck, Charles thinks to himself, I want him. The thought takes him slightly by surprise, had someone told him a week ago that he’d want to fuck Carlos Sainz Jr., he’d have laughed in their face, but here they were, and Charles couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted someone this much.

As if on cue, a strange nervousness comes over him the second he admits his desires to himself. The other man’s presence, which had felt so comfortable just minutes earlier, now made his pulse quicken slightly. He immediately tries to shake the nervousness off, he wasn’t some inexperienced, blushing virgin or a silly schoolgirl with a crush. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was how to seduce men.

The only question was, of course, how would he seduce Carlos Sainz Jr. He lets his eyes rake over the other man again, wondering how he would play him, how he would make him fold. He was a smart man, there was no denying that, specifically the kind of smart man that not only knew the extent of his own intelligence, but also prided himself on it.

He had a law degree and worked as a lawyer, meaning that he was likely a rational person, ruled by logic and reason. Carlos Sainz wasn’t the type to be swayed by games or false flattery, in fact, Charles was certain that he’d see straight through any type of tricks, he was an honest man after all – and honest men responded to honesty. A smile falls over Charles’ face, that’s it.

He gathers himself slowly and leans forwards in his seat, letting his glass slide along the table as he does, until the hand he had wrapped around the glass gently brushes against Carlos’ that is resting on the table. The small touch makes his skin tingle with warmth and desire.

“Would you consider this statement to be true or false?”, he starts tentatively, feeling an annoying flush immediately covering his face as Carlos looks up to meet his eyes in an intense gaze, “A healthy mind requires a healthy body”.

“True”, Carlos replies instantly and raises an eyebrow at him, clearly not understanding where Charles was going, but he ignores him and continues.

“And what about, ‘regular sex is a necessity for a healthy body´”, he watches as Carlos nods again.

“True”, Carlos says, pursing his lips slightly, but giving no other indication that the mood of the conversation has shifted. Charles nods and waits a few seconds before continuing again.

“-and sex can be enjoyed unconditionally between two consenting adults who share a mutual attraction towards each other”, he keeps his voice neutral as he speaks, but feels his pulse quickening as a smirk falls over Carlos’ face. He leans forwards slightly and Charles’ heart pounds heavily in his chest.

“Well, I suppose that is also true”, he starts, pausing for a split second before continuing, “on a general basis”, Charles nods at his answer and feels a satisfied smirk falling over his lips as he leans further forwards and confidently lets his index finger fall onto Carlos’ hand, tracing a light circle into the tanned, warm skin.

“Then, seeing as we’ve managed to agree on a factual basis, I would like to make a proposition, with both of our best interests in mind”, he says, Carlos nods his head for him to continue and Charles looks unwaveringly into his eyes as he does, “you and I should sleep together”.

Carlos nods to signal that he’s heard him and then purses his lips thoughtfully, looking like he’s deliberating a difficult legal matter.

“How would this play out?”, he starts slowly, holding Charles’ eyes with his own, “Would you like me to fuck you, or do you want to fuck me?”, he asks, voice dripping with professionalism, as if he was asking Charles about the wording of a sentence in a contract proposal.

“I would be open to both”, Charles answers in the same tone, feeling a certain smugness over the fact that he’d managed to play him, “although, as the situation stands, I must admit a slight partialness to the idea of you fucking me”, Carlos nods again, humming slightly in understanding.

“-and would we be going to my apartment or yours?”, he asks, leaning even closer, Charles shrugs his shoulders, as if it really didn’t matter to him, “mine is closer”, Carlos continues instantly as he does, and Charles feels his stomach swooping at his words, dick hardening in his pants at the simple thought of Carlos taking him home to his apartment.

“In that case, I suppose it would make sense for us to go to your apartment”, he answers, fighting to keep his voice level, but struggling as Carlos nods again, still looking thoughtful. He wondered what Carlos’ apartment looked like, what kind of sheets he had and what it would smell like.

“Would you like my answer to your proposition?”, Carlos asks next and Charles nods, faster than he’d like, hating that Carlos could see how eager he was, but then shaking it off, thinking that Carlos’ dick would very likely be inside of him within the hour. Embarrassment would be a waste of energy, energy that could be used on much more pleasurable activities.

He feels anticipation simmering heavily and hotly in his gut as he lets his mind wander, imagining what Carlos will feel like buried deep inside of him, how his voice will sound rough from moaning.

“No”, Carlos says, abruptly pulling Charles out of his fantasy and giving him the distinct feeling of having the rug pulled out from underneath him. The word is said simply without any cruelty or humor, and Carlos keeps his eyes on him as he says it, the professionalism from before still there.

“Excuse me”, Charles says, abruptly snatching his hand back from where it had been resting on Carlos’ and feeling completely dumbstruck, the feeling only growing as Carlos gives him a small smile and shrugs his shoulders.

“No need, you’re excused”, he says and the slight smirk from before is back, although now it is more aggravating than arousing. Still, Charles has to reluctantly admit to himself that it does still arouse him.

“So, you’re seriously going to pretend you’re not attracted to me? Your dick is telling a different story considering the fact that you’ve been half-hard since the moment I sat down”, he says coldly, annoyance mixing with the sting of rejection, making him feel like he could choke the man, the feeling only intensifying as he smirks again.

“I never said I wasn’t attracted to you, Charles”, he says, the sound of his name on his lips sends a shiver through his body again.

“If this is some sort of hard-to-get scheme, it’s completely unnecessary, in case you weren’t paying attention before, I asked you to sleep with me, you can just agree”, he says, watching in confusion as Carlos shakes his head again.

“Just because I’m not going to sleep with you, doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to you”, he explains in a tone suggesting he thinks that that clears everything up. Charles sighs in frustration.

“So, you do find me attractive, but you don’t want to sleep with me?”, he asks, watching as Carlos shakes his head again.

“That’s not what I said either”, he says simply, silence falling between them for half a second as Charles waits for him to continue speaking, explain what he means, but he doesn’t, and Charles lets out another sigh.

“You don’t want to sleep with me?”, he asks simply, and Carlos shakes his head.

“No, I do want to sleep with you, Charles, but I’m not going to sleep with you”, he says, and Charles shakes his head in further confusion, not understanding the difference and thinking that no matter what the difference was it didn’t matter, seeing as both meant he wouldn’t be getting laid.

“-but you do find me attractive?”, he asks, Carlos smirks.

“I think you’re well aware of your own attractiveness”, he says simply, and Charles hates how good the compliment makes him feel and the flush heating his cheeks. He forces himself not to look away like a blushing schoolgirl and keeps his eyes fastened on Carlos’.

“Then, why won’t you sleep with me?”, Charles asks, figuring there was no need to be coy about it, with the way the situation had unfolded, it wasn’t like he could feign a lack of interest or play it cool. Carlos leans back in his chair, putting some distance back between their bodies and ponders the question for a few seconds before answering.

“I suppose I am a man of peculiar interests”, he seems unsure how to formulate himself, and takes his time with each word, “I have a, hm, call it a specific need and as it stands you wouldn’t be able to fulfill it”, he finishes. Charles immediately huffs out a small laugh.

“Are you kidding me?”, he says ridiculously, “don’t overestimate yourself there Sainz, I’ve done shit you couldn’t even imagine”, Carlos takes the insult in stride, a small secretive smile settling on his lips as he simply shrugs.

“Hm, I still don’t think you’ve ever done this and, to be honest, by the looks of you I don’t think you could handle it either”, he says, and Charles is certain there is something almost challenging in his tone, immediately reawakening his competitive instinct, and making him sit up straighter.

“Try me”, he says, but Carlos shakes his head no, seeming to push every single one of Charles’ buttons simultaneously. Carlos seems to feel the anger radiating from him and takes the chance to lean closer, only pissing Charles off more than before.

“In fact, I know you wouldn’t be able to handle it”, he says lowly, Charles thinks steam might be pouring out of his ears.

“Oh, really, you think that you, Carlos Sainz, somehow have a kink so fucked up that I wouldn’t be able to handle it, do tell me what it is”, he says, leaning in as he gets worked up speaking, “is it spanking maybe, I’m sure you think that’s beyond taboo, you want to drape me over your lap, punish me for being a bad boy?”, Carlos shakes his head, but there is a humorous glint to his eye that pushes Charles to continue, “Bondage then? Do you want to tie me up?”, another shake of the head, “Whips? Paddles? Feathers?”, Carlos continues shaking his head and so Charles leans in further, his voice dipping lower as he continues.

“Maybe you’re into age play then”, he pushes closer, so their faces are only inches apart, “do you want me to call you daddy?”, the air between them feels like it’s on fire as Carlos breathes out a hot laugh, giving another miniscule shake off the head.

“Then tell me”, Charles demands and waits as Carlos seems to consider him for a moment, before leaning forwards so his lips are next to his ear, his breath hot against his skin, sending shivers cascading down his body.

“Love”, he whispers, and Charles feels suddenly breathless, the word hangs heavily in the air between them as Carlos leans back again. Charles gathers himself before answering, pushing aside the complicated feelings that had suddenly arose in his chest.

“Love?”, he asks, Carlos remains still, secretive smile still playing on his lips, “what does that mean?”, he asks, but continues before Carlos has the chance to answer, “you want me to suck your dick lovingly, it that it?”, Carlos chuckles again, and there is something about the laugh that makes Charles feel suddenly very young.

“No, that’s not it, I- “, Carlos pauses for a second before continuing, “I don’t sleep with people that I’m not in love with, it’s just not, worth it, to me, I suppose”, he shrugs his shoulders, picking up his glass and downing the rest of his drink.

“So, if I told you I was in love with you, you’d fuck me?”, he says it jokingly, but there is a genuineness there as well. Despite everything, the lust and desire were still there, he still wanted to sleep with the man.

“Even if you were and that was true, it still wouldn’t happen”, Carlos says simply, standing and pulling his jacket up from the back of the chair, slipping into it with practiced ease and mindlessly adjusting his cufflinks to assure that they were still in place.

“Why not?”, Charles asks, looking up at the other man. Carlos meets his eyes and cocks his head thoughtfully to the side for a second as he opens his wallet to pull out two bills that he wordlessly places onto the table. He lets his hand fall to the back of his chair and leans over him until his lips are hovering next to his ear again.  

“Because I’m not in love with you”, he whispers lowly, before straightening up and walking away without another word. Charles remains frozen in place for several minutes, not sure what’s hurting more, his wounded pride or the burning disappointment in the pit of his stomach. He feels the ghost of Carlos’ breath lingering on his neck and mindlessly reaches up to cover the spot with his hand.

“Excuse me sir, would you like me to close up the tab or did you want something else?”, a voice says from his right, snapping Charles out of his own thoughts. He turns his head towards the voice and sees the waiter standing there expectantly with the check-holder in his hands.

“Oh, um, I’m good thank you, let me just- “, he immediately goes to pull his wallet out, but the waiter stops him before he has a chance, already picking up the cash Carlos had left on the table.

“There’s no need, sir, this more than covers it, you have a good night”, she says simply, sliding the cash into the small booklet and giving him a small nod before turning to leave. Apparently, Carlos had still had the decency to pay for his drink even while rejecting him, but Charles isn’t sure if that betters or worsens his mood.

He’s still pondering the question as he slides underneath his cold sheets, shivering and silently wishing that he had another warm body next to his.

Luckily, Charles soon learns that although unfamiliar to him, the sting of rejection is quick to fade, his massive workload providing ample distraction until it’s suddenly been almost a month. His feelings towards Sainz, he’d been quick in deciding he had to stop thinking of him as “Carlos”, had quickly returned to those of simple professional annoyance and certainly didn’t involve him on his knees in front of him or hovering over him as he pinned him to the bed and thrust into him slowly and deeply. Charles never thought about him like that. Not at all. Not even while in the shower. Never.

Still, there is a slight thrill that shoots through his gut as he walks into a downtown bar with a few colleagues and spots the man himself, perched on top of a stool, sipping on what looks like a negroni.

In what Charles had come to think of as his typical luck, Carlos’, no – Sainz’s eyes instantly snap to him the moment he enters, and a smile comes over his lips. Charles desperately wants to ignore the way that makes him feel, as well as the satisfied thought that he’s smiling because of you filling his mind, but he can’t.

There’s no inviting tilt of his head or a wave telling him to come over, and so Charles just gives Sainz a nod of recognition and then follows the rest of his colleagues to a table in the back of the bar. He is quick to choose a seat that leaves him shielded from view from the bar and makes it impossible for him to see it as well. You can’t see me, I can’t see you, he thinks to himself, it’s fair.

The night drags on, and Charles has a couple of drinks too many, trying to will away the constant drunken urges to walk over to the bar and talk to Carlos, only deeming it safe to do so once it’s so late that he’s certain that Sainz has left.

“Leclerc”, he hears a smooth voice saying next to him and hates the way it makes the hairs stand up at the back of his neck and heart race in his chest. He turns slowly, plastering a flat, professional smile on his face.

“Sainz”, he says coldly, signaling the bartender over and ordering a scotch on the rocks. He hates scotch and has no clue why he orders it but knows he can’t take it back now and figures he’ll just take a cursory sip and then leave the rest.

“Haven’t seen you in court in a while, did I scare you away?”, Sainz says next, Charles doesn’t look over at him, but can hear the smirk there. So, this is what we’re doing, he thinks to himself. He glances in Sainz’s direction before answering.

“Don’t flatter yourself Sainz, it’s your own fault for only representing such lowball, boring clients”, he says, matching the other man’s smirk and fully turning in his direction now, “besides, if you wanted to see me, you could’ve just called your mother”, Carlos fully snorts in amusement and tips his head back as laughter rumbles through his chest. Charles struggles to keep a straight face himself.

“You know that joke would’ve hit a lot harder if my mother didn’t live in Spain and I didn’t already know you were gay, Leclerc”, he says, amused grin cracking his face in half as his shoulders still shake with laughter. Charles can’t help a smile slipping over his own face, the other man’s mood infectious.

“Ah, I know, should’ve taken that into consideration”, he answers, and feels his shoulders relax slightly. The apprehensive tension that had laid between them seems to melt away and Charles wordlessly takes the seat next to Sai- Carlos.

“I heard about the Rowalski case”, Carlos says, Charles gives a nod to signal he’s listening, “heard you were good”, Charles feels himself blush and internally scolds himself for it. It was just a compliment, and a bad one at that; he hadn’t been good in the Rowalski case, he had been fucking incredible. Besides, it wasn’t even Carlos who thought he’d been good, someone had told him.

“Yeah?”, he asks softly, “who the hell told you that? Cause I wasn’t just good”, he smirks.

The conversation flows effortlessly between them, and Charles actually finishes his drink and orders another scotch as they talk about work and the city, Carlos’ sister who had just started at Colombia and the renovations Charles were having done to his bathroom. There’s something about Carlos that makes Charles leer out any and every though that comes to mind, completely unfiltered.

Still, it’s only halfway into his third scotch that Charles finally manages to build up enough courage to ask the question that had been burning in the back of his mind from the moment he had seen Carlos sitting at the bar.

“Can I ask you a question”, he asks tentatively, and Carlos immediately nods. There is something in his eyes that makes Charles think that he already knows what he’s about to ask.

“Why do you only sleep with people you’re in love with?”, he asks, trying to sound as neutral as possible, “I mean, you’re an adult man with what seems like completely above-board sexual preferences, no weird religious attachments”, he pauses to look up at Carlos, who shakes his head in confirmation, “So, what’s the deal?”. Carlos folds his hands on top of the bar and seems to be formulating his answer in his head.

“Like I said it’s just not worth it to me”, he shrugs his shoulders and pauses slightly before continuing, “my sister once said that I didn’t have ‘a casual bone in my body´, and I think that’s fitting, it’s like, everything I do, I put everything into it”, he pauses for another split second, unfolding his hands and gesturing towards his chest, “my heart and my head are just so interwoven with each other that I can’t seem to separate them, and I guess in some areas I’ve just stopped trying to”, Charles furrows his brows.

“But-“, he instantly interjects, but stops himself, trying to fully comprehend what Carlos meant before protesting, “but sex doesn’t have to be such a big deal, I mean, it can just be fun, you know. Sex is just using your body to give another person pleasure”, Carlos smiles strangely at him as he finishes.

“To me, sex without love is”, he hesitates for a second as if trying to find the right words, “it’s like watching a movie without the sound, you can still see the images moving and you get the gist of what’s going on, but you’re just missing this major component to complete it”, he uses his hands to signal something big and Charles is hit with a wave of curiosity. What was it like to sleep with someone he was truly in love with? More importantly, what was it like to sleep with a Carlos Sainz that was truly in love with you?

“I think that sounds stupid”, he says and Carlos chuckles.

“That’s because you are lucky enough to possess the unique ability to keep your head and heart separate, probably why you can stomach defending such assholes”, Carlos says with a humorous shrug, and a scowl immediately falls over Charles’ face.

“Everyone deserves a good defense, Sainz”, he says, surprised to see Carlos instantly shaking his head.

“No, I don’t think so”, he says, and Charles feels genuinely shocked at that.

“What?”, he exclaims, “I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who didn’t support the right to a fair trial, should we just imprison anyone the police suspects or someone deems it entertaining enough to sue, that’s not very democratic of you”, Carlos shakes his head again and Charles feels even more confused than before.

“I didn’t say that”, Carlos answers like an echo of himself, “Everyone has the right to a fair defense, no question about that, I just don’t think everyone has a right to a good defense and certainly not your defense”, he looks up to meet Charles’ eyes, “because you’re fucking amazing”.  

Charles tries to forget Carlos’ parting words and pretend that they haven’t affected him, haven’t seemed to burn themselves into his eyelids and are running on repeat in his head any time he has a quiet moment. It hadn’t even been that good of a compliment, he tries to argue with himself, he’d heard much prettier things from much prettier boys (although, despite his best efforts he knows that the last bit is a straight up lie, because Carlos was likely one of the most handsome men he had ever seen, and so he is quick to give up that specific delusion).

Still, he is steadfast in his mission to not think about the words or the man who had said them and consequently buries himself in work, taking on extra clients and doing favors to the other lawyers, but even so, they seem to pop up at the most inopportune of times.

You’re fucking amazing, he thinks to himself with a shudder and nearly spills his coffee over his desk. Later that week he nearly trips on the treadmill and most nights he can’t seem to fall asleep as his eyes remain fastened on his bedroom ceiling, words echoing around the cold, silent room.

After two weeks he feels like he’s going crazy and not over the compliment itself, as it was an average one at that, but over his inability to get them out of his head. He had never struggled with distracting himself before, work, exercise, drinking, law, and socializing was usually enough to hold any unwanted thoughts at bay, but now he feels betrayed by his own mind.

To top it off, the one thing that actually makes him forget about the compliment is to his great dismay, the fucking movie metaphor, meaning that when the words you’re fucking amazing isn’t playing on loop in his head like the worst song he could possibly imagine, the notion that sex without love was like a movie without any sound, is.

In spite of himself Charles keeps turning this particular notion over and over in his head, until he one day goes as far as to mute the show he’s watching to try and get some semblance of an idea of what Carlos had meant.

The only thing that somehow made this thought slightly more bearable than the compliment was that unlike with the compliment, which Charles for the life of him could not fathom why plagued him as much as it did, he knows perfectly well why the metaphor does – he had never been in love, and as he sits on his couch in complete silence, watching the muted tv and the thought strikes him that the show is terribly boring, he is suddenly gripped by the terrible feeling that he is missing out.

It wasn’t like Charles had been living in celibacy, far from it actually, nor had he endured some terrible existence void of any attraction or affection. He had, in fact, not gone much longer than a month without sex since he had lost his virginity at 16, and although none of these shorter or longer flings had developed into a permanent relationship, Charles had been perfectly satisfied and happy.

Losing his father as a teenager and moving overseas on his own had left him plenty distracted in his earlier years, and law school and the related internships had not changed this, if anything they had distracted him even more. Charles had never had a problem with finding a willing one-night stand either, and thusly, by sad coincidence or lucky happenstance, depending on how you saw it, Charles had made it through the first 25 years of his life without a proper boyfriend and more importantly, without falling in love.

Up until now, this had never bothered him. Charles enjoyed his own company, he had great friends, a job that he loved, an everyday routine he practically worshipped, he slept with the people he wanted, when he wanted (with one annoying new exception), and he had never, at any point even considered the possibility that he was missing out on something other than terrible heartbreak and unnecessary hardship, until Carlos fucking Sainz had opened his big, fat mouth and somehow managed to rattle Charles to his core.

As a result, Charles is in dire need of clearing his head and after finding himself lost in thought staring at the same paragraph of a contract proposal for the third time in an hour, Charles slams his laptop shut and leaves the office. At least it’d make his associate happy, he thought to himself as he left.

It’s a Monday night, and so there aren’t many people out, but regardless of this, Charles makes his way to one of his favorite bars, where he sits down and orders a beer. Due to the squint crowd, the selection of possible targets is small, but Charles is still quick to catch the eye of a very handsome, blonde twink with big, innocent looking eyes and a nose ring.

He isn’t Charles’ usual type, in his younger days Charles had been considered somewhat of a twink himself and thusly mostly hooked up with guys who were twice his size, and although he had now filled in a lot and was a rather big man himself, he still usually went for someone who was bigger than him. Judging by his recent porn searches, his current type seemed to be tall men with broad, tan shoulders and dark hair, but remembering that the reason he’s even there is to clear his head, he approaches the guy, sliding into the seat next to him.

It’s barely been an hour before Charles has him pinned against the wall of the bathroom stall, pressing hot kisses down his neck and biting into his earlobe. The guy, Sam or Sander, moans in a loud, obnoxious way, that makes Charles cringe, but he pushes the feeling down in favor of turning him around and skillfully letting his hand slide into his jeans, at which point he’s unable to stop himself from muttering a small “jesus christ” as he feels the diamond-studded hilt of a butt plug resting snuggly between his cheeks.

“You want it, babe?”, the guy asks breathlessly, in what Charles assumes is an as seductive voice as he can muster, with his face mushed against the wall and Charles wants to say yes and get on with it, but somehow, he just can’t. He doesn’t want it, he realizes, he doesn’t want any of it, not the guy, the fuck, the cheap release, the only thing he does want is to go home.

He feels bad as he takes a step back and immediately apologizes. The guy is annoyed, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it, simply zipping his jeans back up and leaving with a small huff.

Charles lets a few minutes pass before following, grabbing his coat on the way out and leaving the bar all together.

He buys himself a slice of pizza as he walks to grab a taxi, finishing the slice of in two bites and feeling annoyed with himself, a feeling which only grows as he arrives home to his empty and dark apartment and instantly finds himself thinking you’re so fucking amazing. A groan escapes him, and he pulls out his phone, typing out a text and pressing send without giving himself time to second-guess himself.

James replies within a few minutes and says he’ll be over in an hour or so, which makes Charles smile. James never disappoints.

He takes a shower as he waits for James to arrive, washing the bar and all feelings of annoyance off in searingly hot water until the only feeling that remains within him is a simmering sense of arousal and anticipation.

James has been one of his regular hook ups for almost two years at this point and is, in Charles’ opinion, the perfect casual hook-up partner, which was the reason he’d kept him around for as long as he had. There were no feelings between them apart from sexual attraction, and their “relationship” flowed and adapted perfectly to anything that transpired in their lives. If Charles was too busy with work and stopped calling for a period, James couldn’t seem to care less, showing up just as easily after a week as he did after three months.

He was never jealous of Charles being with other guys, which he was well aware off, a feeling which was entirely mutual. James had even had a boyfriend for a few months about a year ago, which Charles had only known about since he had answered one of his hook up text saying as much, but then a month later he had called Charles at three in the morning and upon asking him about said boyfriend (Charles never slept with anyone who was in a relationship), he’d replied that they had broken up. They never spoke about it again and Charles was happier for it, having almost worried that James had broken up with his boyfriend for him, but he clearly hadn’t.

The act of putting on clothes after his shower turns out to be completely unnecessary, as barely five minutes pass after letting James in, before Charles is half-naked again and pressed into the wall of his hallway.

James is tall and strong and as usual rough in his handling of Charles, which he revels in, feeling his stomach swoop as he is picked up and tossed onto the bed like a ragdoll. He feels his dick growing hard and pressing against the zipper of his jeans as arousal starts to pool heavily in his stomach. James towers above him and easily flips him onto his stomach with a single hand, biting into his butt cheek as he pulls his jeans and boxers off in one swoop, Charles moans and turns back around to wrap his arms around the other man’s shoulders and pull him closer again.

“Yes”, he breathes out as searing kisses are placed down his throat and he tips his head back further, burying his hands in James’ short curly hair and being too distracted by the pleasure to keep his mind from imagining that the hair he’s gripping is longer, darker, and thicker.

“What do you want, gorgeous?”, James breathes into his skin and Charles sighs, he knew calling James was a good idea, and still thinking about what to answer, he pulls the other man’s face up to his own and slots their mouths together in a wet kiss before answering. The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and in hindsight he could only blame his own, stupid pleasure fogged brain.

“Fuck me like you love me”, he says, not realizing what he’s said until James abruptly pulls away from him, forcing him to replay the last seconds in his head to find out what went wrong.

“Sorry, what?”, James asks with a confused shake of his head, Charles stares at him in stunned confusion for a second, before realization dawns on him and he quickly shakes his head.

“No, wait, sorry, I didn’t mean that-“, he rambles, but James pulls even further back and sits up on his knees.

“Look, Charles, I love hooking up and everything, but I’m just not-“, James starts explaining slowly, apologetic look on his face, but Charles quickly interrupts him.

“No, no, I’m serious, James, it just slipped out, this isn’t- “, he hesitates slightly, trying not to sound rude, “this isn’t about you, there’s this guy-“, James interrupts him.

“I’m not going to help you cheat on your boyfriend if that’s what this is”, James says sternly, “you know I don’t do infidelity, Charles”, Charles sits up slightly as well, feeling very naked and exposed where he sits.

“No, that’s not it, he’s not my boyfriend or, well, he’s not anything really, I just know him from work and he just said something that really annoyed me, but this has nothing to do with it, seriously, it just slipped out”, he moves forwards to wrap his arms around James’ neck and brings their faces closer together again, “I want to ride you”, he whispers against his lips, pressing a small peck to it as he does.

James seems unsure, but he doesn’t push him away and so Charles continues pressing himself closer, rubbing his hands up and down his bare chest.

“Come on, please”, he begs seductively, “I want you so bad”, his voice dips lower and James concedes, wrapping his arms back around him and pushing him down on his back again. Charles keeps his mouth pointedly shut for the rest of it.

After they’ve finished, James stays for the cursory ten minutes of cuddling, wrapping his arms around Charles’ waist and cradling him to his chest. The embrace is warm and comfortable, and Charles tries to relax into it, but for some reason a weird feeling comes over him and he has to hold back a sigh of relief as he feels James shifting underneath him and then sliding out of bed.

He sits up on the bed and a peck is pressed to his lips before James tells him to “call me” which Charles only answers with a silent nod. The sound of the front door slamming shut is harsh against the silence of the apartment and seems to leave a dark, almost tangible void behind.

Charles usually loves the silence following one of his hook up’s departures, always quick to contentedly cuddle deeper into his sheets and thank the heavens that there was no one next to him snoring or breathing too loudly, but now the bed seems to be too big for him, too empty.

He sits up and walks into the kitchen for a glass of water, muscles sore from the earlier exertions, but the burn isn’t nice and delicious like it usually is, it’s annoying if anything. The sex had been good, rough and quick, like Charles usually liked it, and James was a very talented lover who knew exactly what to do to make him see stars, but for some reason he feels unsatisfied.

As he lays down again after returning to his room, he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have someone breathing softly next to him, and after turning over to his side he curses his stupid brain again for not being able to stop thinking about Carlos fucking Sainz.

Determined to actually succeed in clearing his head, the following weekend, Charles recruits Pierre to join him for a night out. Luckily the other man isn’t a hard ask and shows up at Charles’ apartment right on time with a bottle of tequila to “pregame”.

They take a few shots and share a pizza, and by the time they make their way out of the apartment, Charles slamming the door shut and handling Pierre the keys as he leans down to fix his shoelaces, Charles had built up enough of a buzz to consider instructing Pierre to not under any circumstances let him go home alone, the only thing stopping him being the fact that Pierre was an outrageously bad wingman and would likely manage to scare away anyone even remotely interested in getting into Charles’ pants. And Charles really needed for someone to get into his pants.

The city seemed to be filled to the brim with people tonight, as if everyone living there had communally decided that they were going out, and so as they leave the third place that Charles had suggested that night, because it was “too crowded”, Pierre insists they meet up with one of his friends from work.

“He says they have a table”, Pierre says over his shoulder as he waves a taxi over, trying to convince Charles, who had been reluctant as he suggested it.

“Who are “they”?”, Charles asks skeptically, he was not in the mood to be introduced to a dozen of Pierre’s friends and certainly not ready to shamelessly throw himself at whatever guy looked in his general direction, in front of them.

“It’s just Lando and one of his friends, I don’t know who he is, I’ve never met him”, Pierre answers as a taxi stops in front of them and he goes to open the back door, “come on, everywhere else is full”, he says with a glance over his shoulder before getting in, and Charles groans before following. At least it was just two people, he could handle making a fool out of himself in front of two people.

They arrive in front of a very anonymous looking building with a simple neon sign, that covers Pierre in an electric blue light as he looks down to check the address on his phone again.

“It’s here”, he says after checking and then walks forwards to pull the door open. Inside is what seems to be a regular looking cocktail bar, the interior is dark with high vaulted ceilings and dimmed lightning.

Charles lets his eyes travel up the length of the ceiling and bumps into Pierre as he stops just inside, eyes scanning the room for his friend and perking up as he clearly spots him. Charles follows his eyes and sees a guy with dark, curly hair hold a hand up to signal them over, he also sees another man sitting across the table from him, but since his back is turned, Charles is only able to make out a head of dark hair.

“That’s Lando”, Pierre says and Charles nods, glancing towards the bar and telling Pierre he could go ahead while he got them some drinks. He wanted to scope out the crowd to see his prospects before going to sit down.

Charles regretfully has to admit to himself that coming here had actually been a good idea, as he catches the eye of several, very good-looking men at the bar, even chatting a few up as he waits for his and Pierre’s drinks and even giving one of them a nod in the direction of their table, telling him to come find him later.

As he arrives at the table, Pierre stands up to grab both drinks and place them at the table, introducing him to his friend as he does.

“Lando”, the guy with the curly hair says and Charles shakes his hand with a smile, turning in time with Lando letting go and gesturing to the man who had had his back turned, only to have his breath catch in his throat as he recognizes who it is.

“-and this is my friend, Carlos”, Charles’ hand remains outstretched as he feels frozen to the spot, only managing to pull it back as Carlos smirks at him and raises his brows. Charles narrows his eyes at him before sinking into his seat.

“We’ve met actually”, Carlos says with a smile, leaning confidently back in his seat, “Charles here has had the privilege of losing to me in court”, Charles feels his face turn red, but surprises himself with how quick he is able to snap back.

“Although not as many times as Carlos has had the privilege of losing to me”, he retorts with a mocking smile, clapping his hand over Carlos’ forearm resting on the armrest. The move is meant to be condescending, but somehow turns into something different as he feels the warmth of Carlos’ skin radiating through the thin fabric of his sweater, as well as the firm muscle underneath, and quickly pulls his hand back.

“Carlos lost? To you?”, Lando asks disbelievingly, and Charles gratefully turns his attention to him, hoping nobody had noticed his movement, “What did you say your name was again?”.

“Charles”, Charles answers, opening his mouth to say his last name as well, as Lando signals for him to continue, when Carlos interrupts him.

“It’s Leclerc”, he says, looking pointedly at Lando, who meets his eyes, but looks to be confused for a second before a gleeful realization seems to hit him and an amused smile stretches across his face.

“Oh, this is Leclerc, the one- “, he starts saying, but Carlos interrupts him.

“Lando”, he says strictly, and a silent argument seems to pass between the two friends, which Carlos clearly wins as Lando puts his hands up in surrender and Carlos drops his eyes away and leans back in his chair again.

“Well, that case sounded super tough”, Lando says, taking a sip of his own drink, “what was that guy called again, Finland, Figgins, Fi- “, Charles and Carlos interrupt him at the same time.

“Finchley”, they say in unison and Lando snaps his fingers and nods.

“Yes, that’s it, damn, poor guy”, Lando says, and Charles has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at that, because of course Carlos had told Lando about the case in a way that would make him sympathize with Finchley.

“Wait, I’ve heard that name too”, Pierre pipes in, stopping Charles from giving Lando his view on the matter, “was that the one where the other lawyer- “, Pierre starts saying and Charles realizes too late what he’s about to say, suddenly remembering turning up at Pierre’s apartment absolutely fuming after having lost to Carlos.

“No, Pierre”, he says strictly, but clearly not having the same control over his friend as Carlos, Pierre happily continues in spite of Charles’ protests.

“-got your evidence thrown out and you said he was an annoying asshole that could go fuck himself”, Pierre looks up at Carlos with a shit eating grin on his face and Charles feels his face flush dark red, “I suppose that’s you then”, he finishes with a smile in Carlos’ direction and Charles covers his face in his hands as Lando bursts into laughter.

“Look, I’m so sorry”, Charles starts, turning in Carlos’ direction as Pierre and Lando continue laughing, clearly not paying them any attention. He is relieved to see that Carlos doesn’t seem to be at all offended and only has a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

“No, no, that’s okay”, he places his hand on top of Charles’ forearm and leans in to continue speaking, dropping his voice so the others couldn’t overhear them, “I mean, we both know who you actually want me to fuck”.

Charles glances up to catch Carlos’ eyes, wanting to make some sort of snappy comeback or tell the other man to go fuck himself, but not managing to, as his ability to speak seems to disappear the second he notices how dark they had turned, pupils blown wide.

Lando says something across the table, and Charles pulls back, turning his attention back across the table. It doesn’t seem like the others have noticed their interaction, Lando chattering happily away about something that had happened at work the other day. Carlos’ hand remains on his arm for another second before he lets it go with a small squeeze. Charles feels the touch to his core.

The conversation flows freely between the four of them and Charles makes a conscious effort of dividing his attention equally, but soon enough his body has fully turned towards Carlos, his full attention on him as they get wrapped up in a passionate discussion about the ethics of human cloning. He had noticed Pierre rolling his eyes out of the corner of his eye, and Lando looking very confused as they had broached the topic and figured it’d be glossed over, when Carlos vehemently disagreed with him and thusly distracted him enough that the two others seemed to escape his notice completely.

He doesn’t notice the shift in their seating either, but around his third drink, he finds that his and Carlos’ chairs were no longer tucked underneath the table, facing each other instead, and another two drinks later, they have been pushed so close together, that as Charles crosses his legs, the entire length of his calf is pressed against Carlos’ warm leg.

A tap on his shoulder pulls him out of the bubble that had seemed to gather around them, and breaking away from Carlos’ intense eyes, he notices that Pierre and Lando were no longer at the table and an unknown man was standing beside him.

“Hey”, the guy says with a flirtatious smile, looking at Charles as if he’d been the one to call him over.

“Hi?”, Charles answers unsurely, eyes scanning the man’s face in an attempt to figure out who he was and, more importantly, why he had interrupted his very interesting conversation with Carlos.

“You look good”, the guy says next and Charles flushes in embarrassment, glancing over at Carlos, expecting to find an amused look on his face, but being surprised to see that his eyes had hardened, eyebrows drawn together as he stared daggers at the man.

“Thanks”, Charles says confusedly, looking at him with a questioning look as if to ask him what his point was. Charles knew that he looked good, he didn’t need some weird guy at the bar to tell him that.

“Why don’t you come join me at my table?”, the guy asks, nodding in the direction of the VIP-area that was located behind the bar, “I’d love to buy you a drink”, the man’s eyes trail down his body in a way that suggested he’d love to do a lot more than buy him a drink.

“No, thank you”, Charles rejects him politely, nodding in Carlos’ direction as he continues, “I’m sort of in the middle of something”, the guy looks in Carlos’ direction for the first time since coming up to their table, giving him a calculating once-over, before turning back to Charles.

“You sure?”, he says, and Charles instantly nods.

“Yes”, his voice is perhaps a bit sterner than necessary, but he wants the guy to leave and luckily taking the hint, he raises his hands in surrender and backs away.

Charles returns his eyes to Carlos and sees that the hard look had disappeared from his face entirely and in its place was the lightly amused one he had expected to see earlier. He almost wonders if he had imagined the other look all together.

“Just another day in the life of Charles Leclerc?”, Carlos asks with a smirk playing on his lips and Charles rolls his eyes to show his discontentment with the entire situation, “getting hit on by pretty boys at every turn”, Charles shakes his head.

“He wasn’t that pretty”, he says, and Carlos raises an eyebrow at him.

“No?”, he asks. Charles leans forwards to grab his drink and then looks up to meet his eyes in a heated gaze.

“I’ve seen much prettier”, he certainly doesn’t imagine the blush that creeps across Carlos’ cheeks.

Pierre returns to the table an hour later but doesn’t even bother sitting down and simply leans over the table to tell Charles that Lando had left, and that he was leaving with someone called Gina. Charles is barely listening, too wrapped up in his conversation with Carlos, and just nods and waves him off with a parting “be safe”.

It’s not until another hour has passed and they’re getting up to leave that Pierre even crosses his mind again, as he remembers handing Pierre the apartment keys as they left and realizes that he had left without returning them.

“Fuck”, he mutters to himself and runs a hand across his face.

“What’s up?”, Carlos asks from next to him as he pulls on his jacket, concerned look coming over his face. Charles sighs in frustration as he pats along his pockets again and upon coming up blank, pulls out his phone.

“Pierre has my keys”, he explains, dialing Pierre’s number and putting the phone up to his ear. It goes to voicemail, and he calls again while following Carlos outside.  

Standing on the curb, Carlos taps away at his own phone, and after the call goes to voicemail another three times, Charles shoves the phone back into his pocket and groans. Carlos looks up at him.

“No answer?”, he asks, and Charles shakes his head, too annoyed to say anything as he starts planning out his next moves. He’d have to go to Pierre’s apartment hoping that’s where they’d decided to go and pray that he didn’t get mugged or murdered before making it inside. Pierre’s apartment wasn’t in the nicest of neighborhoods.

“No”, he sighs as a black car pulls up next to them, the chauffeur coming around to open the door. Charles briefly wonders who the car is for when Carlos gives the man a polite nod in greeting. Of fucking course, Charles thinks to himself, feeling all the more embarrassed about his situation.

“You’ll stay with me then”, Carlos says, and Charles immediately goes to protest, but is interrupted by Carlos holding up his hand to stop him, “what else are you going to do, sleep on the street?”, Charles hesitates.

“No, I’ll just go over to Pierre’s and try to get ahold of him, he’ll probably answer eventually”, he says reluctantly, wanting to accept Carlos’ offer, but still not feeling like he could.

“And until then? Are you going to wander around the city in the middle of the night?”, Carlos asks and Charles shrugs in reply, “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and read that you were murdered, Charles”, Carlos says, and Charles hates the way his stomach swoops at the sound of his name on the other man’s lips.

“Murder is a bit far, I’ll probably just get mugged”, he says with another shrug and Carlos rolls his eyes at him.

“Charles”.

“Fine”, Charles agrees and Carlos sighs in relief, “thank you”, Carlos only nods in reply and places a hand on his shoulder that he uses to guide him to the car. Charles smiles at the chauffeur and tries to ignore the way Carlos’ hand seems to burn into his shoulder.

“Just know that this doesn’t mean you’re getting any”, Charles says as he slides in, “you had your chance and now my ass is completely off limits to you”, Carlos just snorts in laughter and doesn’t reply. The rest of the drive is silent, and Charles finds that there is something strangely arousing about Carlos having his own chauffeur, very Mr. Big of him, Charles thinks to himself.

Although not having any clear expectations, Charles finds that Carlos’ apartment is exactly as he had expected. A big open space with a kitchen off to the side, living room sporting massive floor-to-ceiling windows giving a magnificent view of the city.

Carlos goes about his business as if Charles isn’t even there, and so he busies himself walking over to the windows and looking down.

“Wow”, he mutters to himself. He had a great view from his apartment himself, but there was something different about Carlos’, he couldn’t quite place it, but the way the lights from the buildings below seemed to stretch almost infinitely – there was something special about it, something magical.

“Do you want something to eat?”, Carlos calls over from the kitchen that lined the far-right wall, Charles briefly turns his head away from the window to answer.

“Sure”, he answers, and Carlos simply nods in reply.

He makes them sandwiches that they eat across the kitchen island. It’s just a simple sandwich, but Charles can’t help but think that it feels special, because it isn’t just a slice of pizza picked up on the way home, Carlos had made this for him. It was a very good sandwich.

“Please don’t offer me your bed, by the way”, Charles says as they’re about to finish eating, “I’ll take the couch and I don’t want to argue”. Carlos smiles and shakes his head at him.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, Charles”, he says, but Charles interrupts him before he can finish.

“Seriously, I won’t let you give up your bed, Carlos, you’re the one helping me here”, he pauses, “if you’re not going to let me sleep on the couch then we’re sharing the bed”, he can’t help the slight thrill that shoots through him at the thought but is quick to push it away. Carlos smirks and shakes his head again.

“I have a guest room”, he says, trying and failing to keep an amused chuckle from escaping his lips as Charles turns read, casting his eyes down to the counter.

“Oh”, he says, feeling embarrassed at how quick he’d been to offer to share the bed, so much for trying to play it cool.

“I take it your ass isn’t completely off limits then?”, Carlos asks with a cheeky grin and Charles rolls his eyes.

“It is”, he reiterates and Carlos nods again, looking like he was very aware that it wasn’t.

Carlos borrows him a toothbrush, and after brushing his teeth and finishing up in the bathroom, Charles exits.

“It’s just down there”, Carlos says and nods in the direction of a door a few feet down that Charles hadn’t noticed earlier. He nods and then wordlessly starts walking in its direction, stopping at the sight of a sweater hanging off the back off the couch. He grabs it and turns to Carlos, who had been walking in the direction of where Charles supposed his own bedroom was.

“Hey, can I borrow this? I always get super cold in my sleep”, he says, holding the sweater up. Carlos turns and his eyes flicker down to the sweater before coming back up to Charles’ face.

“Sure”, he says with a shrug and Charles smiles.

“Thanks”, he says, turning back around and calling a goodnight over his shoulder. The sweater seems to be very old, the fabric extra soft from its years of use and Charles is quick to change into it, snuggling down underneath the blankets. The last thought on his mind before he drifts off is how nice the sheets smell.