The paddock vibrated with the noise of engines and rushing mechanics, the air thick with adrenaline. You walked into the Ferrari garage with Louis in your arms, your 1 y.o son who looked almost identical to Charles, from his soft brown curls to the sharp sparkle in his eyes. Everyone greeted you with warm smiles; Louis was already the unofficial mascot of the team, waving his tiny hand at passing engineers.

Charles turned the moment he saw you, his expression softening despite the intensity of race day. Dressed in his red suit and holding his helmet, he crossed the space quickly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before brushing a hand across Louis’s cheek.

“you should be preparing” you teased, adjusting Louis’s tiny Ferrari-red headphones.

“I am,” Charles smiled, eyes never leaving yours. “You two are my preparation.”

When his engineer called him, he reluctantly handed Louis back to you, pressing a quick kiss to your son’s forehead and then yours. “Wait for me at the pit wall,” he murmured. You nodded, watching him stride toward the car, Louis clapping excitedly as the engines roared to life, proud, nervous, and impossibly in love.