Chapter Text
It’s the race in Monaco of all places where Max decides that he’s done with it all.
Maybe it was the comfort of home; the casual existence in his own space, suddenly intruded for a week straight of media circuses that has him on edge. He was sick of it, having to hide himself in his own space even if just for one race weekend.
And it wasn’t just Monaco either, he felt it in all the places he went. The track was his home, racing was all he knew, it flowed in his blood. How could he continue to live in that space while hiding. Max was sick of it. He was a three-time world championship for Christ’s sake! And he was well on his way to a 4th despite the challenge put up by Charles and Lewis.
He, if nothing else, has earned his right to do what the hell he wants.
From the comfort of his penthouse in Monaco, on his nice summer night, Jimmy and Sassy curled lazily at the end of his couch, Max closes out of the article speculating about his breakup with Kelly and sends three messages.
The first goes to Kelly, as Max thinks she deserves more than anyone what storm is heading her way. Things had already been rough despite them telling every media outlet that the breakup is mutual and that they are both very good friends and better off as such. That wasn’t the full truth of course, but the media would find that out soon enough.
The response is instant.
A smile creeps on to his face as he exits the chat to message Vicky, who had a logistical nightmare to deal with of his own creation. If was fair to at least give her the advanced warning so he didn’t wake up to death threats.
He closes out of the message before he can see Vicky’s response, nerves suddenly crashing over his system. There is a quiet shake to his hands as he takes a deep breath and pets his cats for a moment as he calms down.
For a brief moment, max feels like he’s flying. His mind is as calm as it is when he sends his car down a long straight, throttle pushed flat out. But then in his mind, he is breaking hard going into the chicane of realizing the implications of what he is doing, now that the elation of having said something has worn off.
He is going to be the first gay driver in formula one.
He is no stranger to breaking odds, to setting records, but this one is different. It carries a weight of expectation and potential hatred that max isn’t sure how to prepare for. He only knows one person who might be able to give him some advice.
Opening his phone again he quickly scrolls past the messages from Vicky, only briefly catching that she is going to come by his apartment in the morning, and he scrolls down into the depths of his messages, all the way back to a chat where he last was thanking Lewis Hamilton for wishing him a happy 26th birthday.
His fingers hover over the keys for a second, trying to decide what to say, before his usual bluntness takes over.
Max briefly wants to cuss the other driver out for not being able to read his mind but calms down enough to be articulate.
Max can barely contain the smile that creeps across his face as he reads the words. He shuts off his phone for a final time and finally heads to bed as a yawn crawls up his throat. The road ahead was bound to be bumpy, but as he lays here in his Monaco home, he – for the first time in years – feels like himself.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Max had expected to wake up to the sound of Vicky banging on his door. He was never one to be optimistic and held no thoughts about any world where he would awake peacefully on this morning.
What he had not expected was to be woken up by a phone call from Christian at 6 am.
The ringing roused him from his groggy state, and he had just enough time to prop himself up into a half seated pose as he glared at the bright name that flashed across his screen. It was 6 am, he was not going to be professional at an hour like this.
“what?”
“good morning to you too max! did you rest well?”
“Christian I swear to god it is 6 am, why are you calling?” max responded, his hand slowly pulling across his face as he attempted to wake up enough to understand the crackling voice through the phone.
A brief chuckle comes across the line. “straight to the point I get it. I just saw Vicky speed walking out of the hotel in the direction of your apartment, so is there anything I need to know about max?”
“Ah shit. No no its all ok I’m just gay.”
Silence descends on the line and max wakes up rapidly at the realization of Oh Fuck I Just Said That. Panic creeps up again as the silence drags, each passing millisecond feeling like eons. Ever since joining Red Bull -- and Max wouldn’t admit this to anyone -- Christian had become like a second father to him. Christian had seen this young boy of 15 who loved racing more than anything in the world and took a chance on him, guiding him through all the bumps on the way. Outside of his mom and sister, Christian was the most important person in his life.
And Max had just told him the biggest secret he held without even thinking about it.
“Pardon?” Christian’s voice comes through the phone again, pulling Max away from one line of panic and into another. What would Christian think? He had never heard the man say anything homophobic before, but it’s not like they ever really talked about it. He couldn’t- He just couldn’t bear to lose him over this. And that wasn’t even to mention how it would impact the team, the racing. Hell, he was a three-time world champion, but was that enough to give him some grace?
“I’m- I’m gay, Christian.” He whispered over the line. He wondered where all the confidence from last night had gone as he clutched the phone tightly.
There is a fatigued sigh as Christian seems to shuffle around a bit before he speaks. “Is that why you and Kelly broke up?”
The question takes Max completely off guard.
“I mean yeah sort of. We were never really dating in the first place. We just liked each other’s company and just went with the rumors.”
“Ah well I can’t blame you there. I’m going to call Vicky and tell her to come back to the hotel. Can you come meet us? I’d like to be in the loop of whatever plan you have cooking up.” Again, it was the same casual tone, as if Christian was calling him to tell him about the weather forecast for the race or some new strategy idea. It was making Max’s head spin.
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know. You’re taking it surprisingly well that your world championship winning racer likes it up the ass.”
There is a slight sigh down the line that has max’s lips curling into a slight smile. “Never say that again please. And for your information, as long as you are happy and want to continue racing for us, I don’t care who you chose to be with. I’ll always be there for you Max.”
“Thank you Christian.”
“Yeah, yeah enough of this sappy stuff. We have free practice this afternoon and I want to get this meeting with Vicky done well before that starts. Meet us in the paddock in an hour or so.” And the line goes dead.
Nothing about the last 24 hours had been normal for Max, but right now, he felt calm as he finally got up and started his morning, lighter with the weight of this secret off his back.
He had people in his corner. He had people that loved him for him. He had a fucking race to win.
Chapter 2
Notes:
hello. im not supper proud of the writing here but! its done so ENJOY.
see if you notice any repeating tropes lol.
Chapter Text
He doesn’t win the race.
He takes second on the podium with Lewis trailing 5 seconds behind in third. Neither of them cares so much though, because Charles Leclerc executed a brilliant overtake with 5 laps left in the race and—for the first time ever—is standing at the top of the podium with tears glittering in the corner of his eye.
Max never likes losing, but if he had to lose in Monaco, he’s glad Charles is the one to beat him.
And as a bonus, Max gets to see the blinding smile on his face. Gets to see how the sun bounces off his golden skin. He gets to hear those brilliant pearls of laughter as they soak each other with champagne.
Max doesn’t quite know when this small crush became the titanic force that effects his every day, but he quickly figures out that coming out means that people can see it on his face now.
(the above is a lie, Max knows he’s been in love with Charles Leclerc ever since his cart went into the mud of Val d’Argenton)
Lewis had been side-eyeing him hard ever since they had let the cooldown room to go to the podium, but at least he had the good sense to wait until after the podium ceremony to say something.
“I meant it on that text you know. if you ever need to talk to someone.” Lewis starts casually as they walk away from the podium. Max knows his face screws up in confusion, but he has the good sense to school it before any press is able to snap a photo.
“Yeah I mean sure? Why are you saying that now?”
Lewis looks at him and gestures with his eyes over to Charles who is walking in front of them with. The joy emanating off of him brings a small smile to Max’s face.
“Come on mate you’re being obvious.” Lewis is fucking right of course, but it still hits Max like a truck. The smile falters for a second as he turns to Lewis.
“You are not going to leave me be about this are you.”
“Nope.”
“And you are not going to gossip about this right?”
Lewis’s face softens a little, hearing the hesitancy in Max’s tone. “It would be completely in between you and me man. And Roscoe too but he can keep a secret.”
Max doesn’t laugh at the joke, but instead gives Lewis a long appraising look.
“I’ll find you after press.” Another long pause and then a barely audible but very poignant “Thank you.”
Then Max is gone, pulled off to some press event while Lewis is guided back to the Mercedes garage, George walking to meet him as he approaches.
“Since when are you and Verstappen friends?” George asks in lieu of a greeting.
“We’re not.”
“You just chatted with him the whole way back from podium mate. Looks like your friends.”
Lewis pauses for a second and tries to come up with a convincing lie.
“We were just chatting about the race you know. nothing much.” George lets out a hiss and pats Lewis on the shoulder, much to Lewis’s confusion.
“Ah another victim of Maxplaining. Be careful mate or you’ll end up attached to his hip like Leclerc is.” George laughs before pulling away and going to his side of the garage. Lewis smiles at his disappearing figure.
Oh if only you knew.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Lewis Hamilton is not a person that holds many regrets, but here with Max Verstappen here in his kitchen, Lewis Hamilton is starting to regret everything.
“—And it’s not like it’s even anything! Nothing will ever come of it but—” Max gestures vaguely in front of him, half glass of wine sloshing violently but not spilling. Lewis thought the wine would be good to settle the boy’s nerves just a little, but now he is faced with the tipsy stumbling of a lovesick fool.
“I just wish I could say something about it. I just hate sitting on it.”
“Well, you’re planning on coming out right? You can at least date some nice boy then.” Lewis drinks a sip of his own wine as Max lets out an aggravated huff.
“I don’t want to date just some boy! I want to kiss fucking Charles LeClerc and it’s a Problem!” Max honest to God pouts and finishes off the glass of wine and slouches forward into his arms. Max was going from tipsy to drunk very quickly. Lewis Hamilton did not want to deal with a drunk 26-year-old today.
“Oh Christ” he whispers to himself putting down his own glass and watching where Max is slowly melting into a puddle on his kitchen island, red face pressed against the cool tile.
“I just- I don’t mean to get sappy on you but how the fuck do you even deal with it all”
For the second time in as many days, Lewis finds himself baffled with the broad scope of Max’s question. A secondary glance to Max shows that the question was rhetorical, a glassy look covering his eyes as he nudges at the wine glass with his index finger, a deeply sad look settling heavy on his slouched shoulders.
Fuck.
Lewis needs fucking reinforcements for this shit.
“Who all knows Max?” Lewis asks quietly.
“That I’m gay or that I’m in love with fucking Charles?” a hollow laugh scratches out from his throat as Max pushes himself to lean his face heavily into his palms.
“Either I guess?”
“Well, if I’m as obvious as you say I am I think the lists are one in the same now.” Max reaches across the island and heavily pours some more wine into his glass, much to Lewis’s growing dread.
“Kelly knows, she was the only one who knew for so long, helped me a lot. Good friend.” Max sips his drink again, swaying gently as he talks.
“Then I told Vicky the same day I told you. I was more direct with her, you just figured it out.” The statement is slightly pointed, Lewis can’t quite tell why.
“Then Christian yesterday morning. That’s everyone.” The drink is gone as Max throws it down his throat in a big gulp, leaving Lewis reeling. That’s Everyone? He was one of Four people who knew Max Verstappen was gay? So many questions scramble to the tip of his tongue.
“Why me?” is the first one to leave. Max glares at him.
“I didn’t fucking tell you mate, you figured it out.” He barks, but there’s no bite in it. Lewis sighs yet again, running a hand across his face. This was his doing, he offered Max both the wine and a place to talk. Some penance God was serving him.
“Max, you know I’m not stupid. Why did you tell me of all people? Why not Daniel or Lando or –“ He trails off, one of your friends going unspoken.
Max shrugs again, that stupid unhelpful gesture.
“I don’t know. maybe because I thought you were safe? You’d get it at least.” He pauses as if considering something, then speaks again.
“I should tell Dan. He’s been around long enough. He wouldn’t freak out over this.”
Lewis bites back the urge to tell him that no one of the drivers would freak out over this, but he’s not sure if that would be true. Also, he doesn’t even know if the statement would absorb into Max’s thick skull with the way he starts listing violently to the side.
Lewis rushes over and braces his arm across his shoulders, max giggling as the world starts to spin around him.
“Maybe I’ll call him over? He could at least get you back to your apartment.” Lewis is already pulling up his contacts, not waiting for a response.
“Mmmmm” Max hums intelligently as he slouches his weight further into Lewis’s side. Lewis shuffles a bit at the change in balance but shoots a message to Daniel despite it.
The exchange is quick and has Lewis turning back to max, who looks close to falling asleep where he stands.
“Alright mate, Daniel is on his way. Go bother him about your giant crush on LeClerc.” Lewis jokes, but he can tell it doesn’t land by the way max stiffens by his side, standing up now suddenly more sober.
“You cannot fucking tell him.” Max whispers out urgently, a deeply scared look in his eye.
“I’m not going too?” Lewis says suddenly confused by the rapid change in demeanor. “It’s between me you and Roscoe remember?”
Max stares again and visibly exhales in relief.
“But what exactly is the problem with you telling him? You said yourself that he probably wouldn’t freak out at you being gay.” Max glares at him like he has started spouting nonsense.
“Tell Daniel Riccardo, Gossip of the century, that I have a crush on my rival? Could you imagine the Drive to Survive bullshit that could be cooked up with that information Lewis?” Max whisper shouts, grabbing Lewis fully by the shoulders and shaking him as if to punctate his point.
“Daniel cannot know!”
“Can’t know what?” Lewis fucking regrets so many things, adding showing Daniel his spare key on that list.
“I just said! My giant crush on Charles!” Max exclaims drunkenly, throwing his arms up and wobbling wildly at the way it throws him off balance before his eyes focus on to Daniel.
“Oh fuck-“Max whispers at the exact same time Daniel yells
“WHAT?”
Lewis, now caught in the center of this, pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters to no one “Lord help me.”
Of all his nights in Formula one, this one might win for Most Headache Inducing.
Chapter 3
Notes:
really like this one. i wrote it all in one go while procrastinating writing a class paper and enjoying a snow day. enjoy
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“You have a crush on Charles?” Daniel chokes out, jaw still dropped.
Max’s stomach falls through the floorboards, a sudden nausea overtaking him that had little to do with the alcohol in his system.
“I-I-“ his breathing comes in a little hard as he pushes away from Lewis and collapses into a chair not far away. A deep groan releasing itself from his throat as if all the stress in his body had pushed forward as one.
“Nice fucking going Daniel” he hears Lewis bite from his side, followed by Daniel’s annoyed spluttering.
“What the fuck did I do?”
“You made him freak out you twat! I only just got him to stop freaking out about this crush like 30 minutes ago, and you’ve come and fucked it!”
“Fuck you, Lewis” Max groans out as he further slouches into his chair, arm thrown over his face as if attempting to hide from the mess in front of him. Daniel knows. Daniel knows and so far, he hasn’t said a word of substance about it.
“Fuck Me? I’ve had to hear your drunk ass complain about your crush for 45 minutes now! Get out of my apartment so I can have some time to myself for Christ’s sake!”
That was fair at least. He had kind of taken over Lewis’s kitchen, and he most definitely owed him a bottle of wine (or three) for everything that had happened tonight. But on the other hand, Daniel was still in the doorway, keys in hand, mouth agape.
Max lets his eyes linger on Lewis, trying to convey his thoughts before they drift over to Daniel. A hard glare is pulled from the reserves of his mind, a competitive tone urging him to not back down, despite how much he wanted to hide.
And that was the balance of it all, wasn’t it. He felt so confident in telling strangers, telling far flung friends and colleagues, but when it came to those that mattered to him? Max was just a scared little kid, small and young and controlling a beast more powerful than could be conceived. Strange how comfortable he was being that uncomfortable.
“Are you going to say anything?” Max’s eyes never leave Daniel’s, teeth gritting together as he sees the gears turning behind his eyes.
Max knows he’s not supposed to tense before an impact, but he finds himself doing so anyway.
Lewis, seemingly aware of the tension in the gaze, makes the smart move to back out of the eyeline, as if the stare is enough to burn.
Max feels like it might be.
After a beat, Daniel’s gears seem to stop spinning and a familiar smile creeps onto his face. Not the typical Cheshire media grin, nor is it the witty smirk he pulls when he makes a clever joke. No, this smile is something private, shot between them when Max had had a bad race or whenever Daniel had caught his dad laying into him after some unsatisfactory performance. It was soft, older and wise and comforting. It was, without words, Daniel’s gentle way of saying don’t worry mate, I’ve got you.
Max feels his shoulders come down from his ears is he lets out a tense breath.
“What do you say we get you home and out of Lewis’s hair. You can tell me all about it in the car, Maxie.” His voice is soft as he spins the keys in his hands and gestures to the door, soft smile not leaving his face.
Max could complain about the treatment, of Daniel talking to him as if he is some sort of scared violent animal, but the nickname has him relenting.
He kind of is a scared animal in a way. Crouched back into corner, claws out and teeth bared ready to strike at anything that moves to fast or looks at him the wrong way. Not violent, no, never violent, despite what most may say.
Daniel was better at seeing that then most. Maybe its why Max appreciated him so much.
“Yeah- Yeah ok. Alright.” Max breathes out Shakely. The nerves weren’t fully gone as he stands, but they had been smoothed enough to bear past.
As he stands and moves towards the door, Daniel leading him, he finds himself grabbed quickly by the arm. Lewis meets his eyes as max’s jolts slightly at the touch.
“Ill see you on the podium in Canada.” It’s a statement as much as it is a question. Max smiles back, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“If the media sharks don’t eat me first.” He says back. Lewis looks at him, mouth pressed into a thin line of something akin to worry? Max isn’t sure but the easy smile returns to his face as Lewis lets him go with a pat to the shoulder.
“It’s Canada mate. I hear they’re pretty nice up there. I know you can hold your own.” There is a fire in Lewis’s eyes that gives max the idea that he likely won’t have too. He looks back at Daniel, who is watching the conversation from the door he holds ajar. He has no way of knowing the scope of what they are saying, but there is a similar fire in his eyes. Protective.
Max smiles, his eyes crinkling up in the corners as he does.
“I uh- Thank you. Just- yeah. Thank you.” And Max exits the apartment without looking Lewis in the eye.
Daniel is quick to follow him, long legs making easy work of keeping up with max’s quick stride. They make it all the way down to the parking garage in complete silence, save for the glances Daniel keeps shooting his way as they go.
It takes until Daniel’s keys are in the ignition for Max to get sick of the side-eyeing.
“Jesus Christ Daniel say something please. You’re driving me insane over here.”
“I mean what do you want me to say?”
“I can tell you’re thinking something! You think loudly.”
“Are you calling me stupid Max?” There’s the Daniel Max knows.
“No you just think loud.”
There is a fatigued sigh that max is accustomed to at this point. A sigh at max’s bluntness and unseriousness. Despite the wildness of everything going on, despite the nerves still broiling in his gut, it feels like a step towards normalcy. This is Daniel, and he is Max. Together they are DanielAndMax. There is comfort in that axiom remaining.
There is silence for a bit as the car starts humming down the road, traffic in the Monaco streets creating a staccato rhythm to their drive. Then dan speaks again.
“So why’d you pick Charles?” an angry fire flares in Max’s gut.
“Pick? It’s not like I choose this!” max grits out, watching Daniel’s face as it spirals into summersaults.
“No No I mean- I have no problem with you liking dudes! Gay is ok!”
“Please never say that again”
“yeah, it was kinda awful wasn’t it”
“For sure.”
A pause.
“What did you mean then?”
“Oh just—“Daniel blushes a bit as he looks at the road, smiling like a school girl talking about boys with her friends.
“I’m a bit offended that of all the drivers to have a crush on you pick Charles when my sexy ass is right here.”
If max had a glass of water, he would have surely spit it out at that. Instead, he laughs so hard he feels tears in his eyes. He can see Daniel smiling at the sound.
“Fuck off mate!” Max chokes out between laughs.
“I’m serious! What does he have that I don’t, hm? I’m offended max.” the laughter subsides a bit as they approach their apartment building, gate opening to let them in to the parking deck.
“You’re just not my type.”
“What do you mean! I’m everyone’s type!” the banter continues as they make their way up to max’s apartment.
“Maybe I like my men a little less—you are very hot don’t get me wrong, but I like my men to be more pretty than hot.” Max says as he pulls out his keys to unlock his door, slightly drunk fingers fumbling them slightly. Daniel takes them from him without saying anything and opens the door.
“Ah so you like twinks then?” the statement hits max like a truck as he stumbles into his apartment, watching as Daniel moves immediately to help himself to Max’s fridge.
“See this is why I wasn’t going to tell you! I’d never hear the end of it!”
Max expects a joke back, but instead sees Daniel’s face soften as he pulls a beer from the fridge and cracks it open without pause.
“I’m glad you told me Max. I’m proud of you.”
“Stop being so sappy. I want the normal Daniel back.”
“I’m being serious max. I’m really really proud of you, mate.” And Max is being enveloped in a hug before he can say anything back.
He wasn’t much of a hug person, but there was just something about Daniel’s hugs that had him turning into mush within seconds. Home was something so rare to find in a job like theirs, but something about Daniel’s hugs—it might have been a sliver of it.
They stay like that for a moment. Max and Daniel, Daniel and Max, hugging in the middle of Max’s kitchen. And its nice and peaceful and bright. So of course, Daniel ruins it.
“You are right, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Daniel whispers and Max pushes out of the hug with a smile and a laugh.
“I hate you so much.”
“Love you too Maxie! Now go to bed, you can’t expect to pick up any boys without your beauty sleep!”
Max flips him off and receives a 200-kilowatt smile in return and sleeps the most peaceful he has in a while.
And when the post goes up on June 1st at noon, he makes sure to send it to Daniel first.
Notes:
next chapter will likely be beefy and (due to aforementioned class paper) will likely take much longer to write. the schedule is based on vibes and im here for shits and giggles only.
Chapter 4
Notes:
the formating is back. have fun.
enjoy the bullying lmao.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Summer was always beautiful in Monaco. Even with its streets lined with tourist wanting to win big over a nice vacation, it was serene if you knew the right spots.
One of the best things about being from Monaco is that Charles always knew the right spots.
His favorite being where he sat now, a far secluded pier sanctioned off by cliffside, jutting out to a beautiful cerulean bay that was just the perfect temperature. It was his own personal heaven, away from the crowds and the glamor of Monte Carlo.
This Saturday in particular was something special in itself. Pierre had taken some time to visit him due to some heat wave washing over central France. They had eaten breakfast at his mother's house, ever conscious of their strict diets, and had decided to relax this weekend by taking some time to enjoy the ocean.
It was here that the news hit Charles, floating gently on his back in the bay; Pierre lounging on the dock, phone in hand scrolling through Instagram.
“Holy shit!” Pierre exclaims, and Charles cranes his neck to see him fumbling for his phone in an attempt to not drop it into the water below. A rather unattractive snort comes from Charles at his friend’s antics.
“Did your girlfriend send you a nice picture or something?”
“Dude- Holy shit you have to come see this.” The urgency in his friend’s tone has him raise an eyebrow slightly, but he follows the request and paddles over to the dock.
Pierre doesn’t even wait for him to get on the thing, Charles only getting his elbows up on the hard wood pallet when a phone is being shoved into his face so close he can’t even see it.
“Look!”
“I’m trying to Pierre! Let me just-“ he grabs the offending item from his grasp and holds it at a much more reasonable distance as he tries to comprehend what has his friend so crazy.
It doesn’t take him long.
Its an Instagram post, that much is evident, and one from max of all people. The image is surprisingly artistic, Charles was far more used to seeing awkwardly posed photos of max in formal wear at some gala or in his racing suit on a podium. He wasn’t used to seeing the man is such a – for lack of a better term—beautiful light. (Not that he looked of course)
The photo is clearly a selfie of max, framed from the shoulders up, head tilted away from the camera. It is edited in such a way that it is almost entirely black and white, save for the rainbow sunbeam cast across his features from the nearby window.
The caption on it is expansive and his Charles’s heart rising in his throat with every word.
I have gone to long hiding myself, and I refuse to live a lie any longer. This month is supposed to be a celebration of queerness in all its forms, to celebrate a community that has long been pushed aside. I am proud to now call myself a member of it.
Simply put: I am gay.
Love wins, and I have the championships to prove it.
If Charles wasn’t so thunderstruck by the entirety of it all, he would have laughed at the last sentence. But no, instead he drops the phone back onto the dock and stares out at nothing.
“Holy shit.”
Pierre hums in response, picking up his phone as Charles turns his laser-like gaze to him.
“Holy shit Pierre!”
“I fucking know.” Pierre says back, shooting a knowing look back at Charles, who blushes violently and makes a move to sink back under the water.
“Oh fucking no you don’t!” Pierre grabs him fully by the shoulders and forces him to stay above the water. No escape for him today.
“Pierre!” Charles complains, trying to thrash out of his friend’s hold. God curse him and his strength.
“No! Your big ass crush since forever just publicly came out. I’m not letting you run away from this!”
Charles lets out a deep sigh of defeat and stops thrashing in his hold, instead climbing on to the dock to sit beside Pierre.
The bay in front of them was so peaceful, calm blue waters and the occasional squawk of seagulls filling the cool semi-salty breeze. Between them Pierre’s phone starts to chime with text notifications from what Charles is sure to be the grid group chat, but they pay it little mind for now.
Despite the serenity of it all, Charles’s mind is spinning at a million miles per second, trying to decipher what to say, what to think, what to even feel about the news.
His friend/rival/debrief partner/crush had just come out. Max Verstappen, the three-time world champion was gay.
Max Verstappen, the angry blond Dutch boy he had fallen head over heals for in the mud of Val d’Argenton was gay and single.
Charles shakes the thought from his mind. Its not like it could ever happen. He had reasoned it over many times, though now the main argument was now rendered moot. They were on different teams. They were rivals! They hated each other (or at least they used to—or for Charles had never hated each other at all). They just couldn’t- it would never work out.
A sigh escapes Charles as his thoughts begin to calm and his heart stops racing. Pierre takes it as his sign to open his stupid, stupid mouth.
“So—when are you going to ask him out?”
Charles shoves him into the water so hard that he stumbles and goes in with him. Both coming up spluttering with smiles on their faces.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Exterior to the serenity of the bay, chaos begins to unfold across the motor sporting world.
It goes as such.
Max makes his post, copies the link, and sends it to Daniel, then completely powers down his phone. He expects that he’ll get knocking at his door within the next few minutes, and everyone worth it would know that to get access to him today, it would be best to try Daniel’s phone over his.
A few seconds later Redbull Racing is making its own post, celebrating his “accomplishment”, and praising him for his “bravery”. It made Max want to throw up the first time he read it, but a glare shot at him from Vicky had him holding his tongue. This entire thing would be pointless is Vicky killed him anyway.
A few minutes and a mile or so away, two boys begin to gossip on a dock.
And across the world, in a couple thousand group chats, texts start flying. The most important of these in a little used chat simply titled “2024 F1 grid”
And the texts slow down from there, becoming a slow trickle of people spit balling ideas in support of their friend. And despite the brief chaos of the world, things just keep turning.
Angry messages build up on a shut down voicemail, words of a man far removed from his son’s life. At the same moment, a few messages of support pile on as well from German beekeepers, and stony Finnish family men.
Max hears none of them, sat comfortably in his apartment, destroying his best friend in FIFA.
Notes:
comments and kudos appreciated
Chapter 5
Notes:
I'm back Yippee!
sorry for the long gap in chapters, i was preparing for a research conference.
hopefully you enjoy! here's to the beginning of a lovely season.
Chapter Text
The paddock was buzzing. Max could feel the energy of it as the car started to journey from the hotel. He had been blessed so far in that he had become mostly invisible since he made his post. No interviews, no outings, no pesky reporters in his bushes. It had just been him, his cats, and the angry messages in his voicemail.
There had been nice ones of course. He called Kimi back and had a very short conversation. The one with Seb much longer. He appreciated them both in equal amounts. Despite the kind words, Max still found himself drifting to thinking of the vile. His Instagram comments had become a cesspool of hatred, twitter much the same. The greatest gift was that he could just delete apps off his phone and ignore those words.
His father not as much.
Max shakes the thought from his head and turns to stare out the window at the fans as they walked down the streets to get to the track. Not far from him, he spotted two women walking side by side, a toddler swinging between them, held by one hand each. They beamed as they watched the boy swing. One of the women had a small rainbow sticker on her cheek. Leaning forward, looking harder, max could see a small 33 inside it.
His dad might have hated him for making this decision, but that—that happy family in front of him? It made it worth it.
It was so so worth it.
They approach the entrance quickly, Checo elbowing him slightly to get his attention, a small smile on his tan cheeks as the car comes to a stop, reassurance subtle but poignant as Max takes in a breath.
Reporters fill the walls around the paddock like sardines in a can. Packed in on top of each other, lenses and audio recorders poked though gaps in the wire fencing. The fact that they were barricaded away at all was a god send. Max needs to remember to send Lance something nice. Maybe he’ll get him for secret Santa this year and can finally give back for the years and years of great gifts.
Max knows immediately what is to come. The door will open, he will step out. The flashes of cameras will blind him before the wall of noise crashes forward. Max had never quite been afraid of storms—no, that habit had left from him long ago-- but the faux thunder and lightning crashing around him has him quaking slightly.
“Let’s get this over with”
He jumps from the car quickly, head down and moving briskly towards the entrance to the paddock. It isn’t quick enough to escape the media though, loud yells and camera flashes increasing the more he moves. He tucks his head further down, staring at the floor as he beelines to the entrance.
Max was never lucky enough to catch a break. He doesn’t know why he still thinks he is. Of course, he would be cursed to barrel into someone face first.
“Oh mierda!”
And of course, he fucking runs into fucking Charles Leclerc.
Both of them brace out on instinct, grabbing ahold of each other is an attempt to not go stumbling into the pavement. Max’s hands briefly settle against Charles’s chest and waist, quickly retreating to curl in around his own body as he looks up into Charles’s gaze.
Charles’s hands don’t leave his shoulders as he kind of just—takes in max’s form.
The flashes go off even faster in the milliseconds of their collision.
It always seemed like they were bound to crash together. First in Val d’Argenton, now in the riptide of a media circus.
“Sorry” Max grits out, still hiding slightly, very clearly uncomfortable with the cameras all pointed their way, blush high on his cheeks from embarrassment Charles is sure.
(blush from Max’s giant huge crush unknown to him)
And Charles, ever conscious of the media perception, smiles big and bright.
“Its nothing. Just an inchident.”
Laughter cascades out of Max as the anxiety seems to roll off his back for a second. Charles’s smile softens a bit at it.
“You’re so fucking stupid.”
“Says the man who literally ran into me. Come on let’s get inside. I think George is hosting a meeting before FP1.”
Max groans, looking a little more like himself, and they head in, scanning their passes side by side. For a brief second, it feels normal again.
They chat a bit, about everything and nothing. Yes, Charles’s brothers were happy to see him in Monaco, yes the cats are doing fine. Inevitably they lapse into comfortable silence.
Maybe Max had fallen so hard for Charles because of how easy it was to breath around him.
There are still cameras flashing occasionally as they stroll, Red Bull and Ferrari and Netflix camera crews all piling along in whatever weird parade they had formed, but at least it was calmer now.
George was hosting his meeting on the other side of the paddock from the entrance it seems, giving max plenty of time to survey the environment.
Much like normal, the paddock is abuzz. Engineers run all over, assistants sprinting to grab this thing or that person. The energy is thrumming at its normal pace. There is a turn in their stroll that gives max a different view though, and he finds himself unconsciously slowing down as he passes.
Very slightly, a brief angle through two motor homes gives him view of the crowds beginning to fill up the seats. Crowds were the lifeblood of the sport, the energy that kept it all going. As Max looks out into the stands in Montreal, he slows to a standstill.
The crowd is awash with vibrant color.
Small gay flags waved by over eager fans; flags slung like capes over the backs of others. Small details like pins on caps and little stickers on cheeks.
He doesn’t have the words to express the tsunami of feeling that washes over him. At least Charles is by his side, and always ready to talk it out.
Charles slows his pace as he sees max halt and look out to the crowd. A minor glance to them and back to max tells Charles everything he needs to know.
“It means a lot you know.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” a pause. Max bites at his lip slightly and draws his eyes down to the floor.
“Its different. To see it so public. I never thought anything I would do could do so much.”
“That’s not the Max Verstappen ego I know. Come on its a lot of good max. a lot of good to everyone.” Max scoffs at that.
“tell that to my father.” Charles fights to keep the frown off his face, and Max clocks it quickly. Silently years of knowledge passes through the air waves between them, tension sinking into something heavy. A resting bear between them.
Charles doesn’t poke it.
“Well it’s a lot of good to me at least.” Charles starts, diverting the topic. There are so many words he wants to say but he chokes them back into the lump in his throat.
But the diversion was at least successful, as max smiles slightly, looking up at Charles, a slight question on his brow.
“How could me coming out be a lot of good for you?” the question hangs in such a balance as it enters his head. The tone is not too silly or too serious, any response could go. A joke is bubbling its way to his lips as he catches that blue gaze again. And well—fuck it. In for a penny in for a pound. Charles would always find a way to follow Max.
“Good because it means I didn’t have to be the first. Now let’s go catch this meeting, I think were late.” And Charles walks away, every bit of media training he has going into making himself look normal and not like a nervous mess.
Max’s brain stalls out. Didn’t have to be the first? What does that- was Charles? No way. But what else could he mean?
And by the time Max reboots enough to exclaim a loud “what?” Charles is a solid distance away and max is forced to stumble his way after him. Their walk is almost normal as they approach the meeting room, Charles reaching it far before Max does in his spluttering.
Max watches as the door shuts between them, media and personnel still scrambling past in the normal entropic chaos of a paddock weekend, but it feels so distant now.
Because Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s Il Predestinato, the tifosi’s golden boy, was gay.
Charles Leclerc, the boy who pushed him into the mud and forever entwined their strings of fate was gay and single.
Max blinks his eyes hard and shakes his head as if the sudden thought would clear itself from his brain like some mental Etch-a-sketch. It almost works, then Daniel catches his eye though the window of the meeting room, becoming him into the space. The bright red he catches moving to Daniel’s side is what throws Max’s efforts to compartmentalize out the window.
He is so royally, magnificently, grandly Fucked.
Chapter 6
Notes:
hello hello. its a long one! I've had some time over spring break to write and honestly the season starting up has given me some renewed passion. hope you all enjoy this gossipy little chapter, maybe with some future angst foreshadowing???
Chapter Text
“What are you looking at?” Lewis asks casually, siding up to Daniel’s side.
Daniel, to his credit, only spooks slightly as his attention is pulled away from the view out the window. He wastes no time pulling Lewis forward into his little huddle.
“Daniel what the-“ Daniel doesn’t waste time and pushes them both forward, gesturing to the window.
“Mate look”
Lewis takes a second to follow Daniel’s eye line, but when he does the reaction is immediate.
“Oh my God.”
Framed perfectly by the window in front of them, a scene unfolds. Max is standing still, gazing out to something neither of them can see. Charles is stood close by, eyes locked onto Max in an expression that can only be described as soft.
“Were they always this fucking obvious?”
“Its honestly a miracle we never noticed before.”
“I mean I can’t believe you at least didn’t notice-“
“shhhhh they are talking!”
Lewis’s face screws up in confusion, pivoting away from the duo and turning to glare at Daniel who is still stood enraptured.
“What do you mean shh? We can’t hear them you know.”
Daniel rolls his eyes but keeps his gaze locked forward.
“You are such a terrible gossip Lewis. Come on look at them. What do you think they are saying?”
Lewis muses a glance back to the duo, Charles is speaking based on the way Max turns to look at him.
“Knowing those two? They are talking about the potential for lockups in to corner 10 or something.”
“Could be.”
Lewis rolls his eyes. He hates how he has gotten involved in all this drama. The season so far had already been super chaotic as is, he didn’t need this relationship drama alongside it.
(He was lying, he lived for this drama.)
His attention was dragged away Daniel’s urgent hitting on his arm to grab his attention.
“Ouch! Daniel what the-!”
“Look look look look look!”
Charles is quickly making his way across the paddock space between them, face nearly as red as his polo. In direct opposition to him, Max is stood frozen still, jaw on the floor.
“what in the world?” Lewis starts, leaning in better over Daniel’s shoulder to look at what’s unfolding.
“what are we looking at?” Pierre interrupts, startling both Lewis and Daniel.
“Jesus fucking Christ Pierre!” Daniel whisper shouts, Pierre throwing his hands in front of him in a sign of surrender.
“Sorry just curious. You seem to be spying on my friend that’s all.”
“we are not spying!” Daniel defends. Both Lewis and Pierre shoot him a glance that has him folding immediately.
“Ok we are spying a little. But not on Charles. On Max.”
“but you were looking at—Charles who was with Max like always. Ok yeah, I follow now.” Pierre pauses and lets out a small huff of frustration, unnoticed by Daniel but clocked immediately by Lewis.
“You know something.” It’s a statement, not a question that rolls off Lewis’s tongue. If the dialogue itself doesn’t get Daniel’s attention, Pierre’s bright red appearance and sputtering definitely does.
“Oh my god he knows something! Pierre you have to tell us!” Daniel crowds forward, pushing Pierre back towards the window.
“I well—I just—” Pierre’s eyes flicker around the room, finally settling on a bustle of motion coming from the door way.
“Oh Charles! You’re here!”
The man in question pivots the moment his name is said towards their small gathering in the corner. Daniel takes the moment to step back, glancing back out the window trying to keep a cool face. His eyes catch Max’s outside just as Charles approaches.
Charles ignores both Daniel and Lewis, grabbing Pierre by the arm and spouting off frantic hushed French. Lewis doesn’t know any of it, but the facial journey between the two tells him it’s something juicy.
Daniel, on the other hand, beckons Max forward through the window, smile plastered on his face. Daniel watches how Max’s face brightens at him, then how it shifts into something confused and unplaceable. Behind him, a conversation in French starts rapidly.
Then both parties are gone, Max hustling forward to the meeting room and Pierre being dragged off by an overly frantic Charles. Daniel turns back to Lewis.
“What the fuck just happened?”
“I’m too fucking old for this shit man. Let’s just find a seat and we’ll figure it out later.” And Lewis drifts off, casual air following as Daniel walks briskly behind, eventually selling into some chairs close to the back, only to be joined a few moments later by the man of the hour.
“I haven’t missed anything have I?” Max askes, taking a seat behind Daniel and Lewis, leaning slightly between them to ask his question.
“Nah mate I think we were waiting on you and Charles to show up. What was the hold up anyway?” Daniel digs, reviling a bit in how Max immediately turns a slight shade of pink.
“Oh nothing.—” Max seems to catch the eye of Charles from across the way, who is staring at him along with Pierre. “Just an inchident.”
Daniel rolls his eyes and ruffles Max’s hair before pushing him back to his seat. An unsaid Tell me later hangs between them as George stands and clears his throat. The meeting is set to start now.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Pierre knew that one of these days his nosey tendencies were going to get him in to trouble. He just didn’t expect to be cornered by Daniel Riccardo and Lewis Hamilton of all people over it.
He would curse his lack of a poker face in this moment if it wasn’t for the fact that their questioning had unlocked a very vital piece of information to Pierre.
Ever since Max had made his coming out post, it had been immediately obvious to him that Max had a giant crush on Charles. They had never really been friends in karting, but Pierre did know him. And he also had eyes.
In fact, Pierre was relatively confident that any driver who had spent anytime at all around Max could probably tell that Max had a crush on Charles. All the drivers except Charles, of course.
This put Pierre in the very interesting position of being the only person in the world that knew that Max had a crush on Charles and that Charles had a crush on Max.
Fresh gossip was the currency of kings in the paddock, and Pierre has found himself sat on a winning lottery ticket.
But he was not going to cash out here, not with Daniel and Lewis bearing down on him. He wouldn’t betray his friend like that. He had time to sit on this information. Plus, with the way this season had been going with Alpine, he needed the entertainment.
But first he needed to get out of here.
His eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for any excuse to leave the huddle Lewis and Daniel had pulled him in to. Luckily, he didn’t have to scan for long as there was an immediate movement of red from the entrance that could only belong to one person.
“Oh Charles! You’re here!” Pierre calls out, shouldering past the huddle he’s in to wave at Charles.
Charles pivots when his name is called, his eyes frantic, and the beeline he makes in Pierre’s direction could only mean that Pierre was in for it.
He takes back all his previous thoughts about wanting to leave Daniel and Lewis; what ever he was about to endure with Charles was sure to be much much worse.
As he approaches, Charles takes a moment to clock Lewis and Daniel standing next to Pierre and wastes no time grabbing Pierre and beginning to ramble off rapid French.
Oh this was going to be some work.
“Charles, please slow down! What is happening?”
“I told him!”
“Told who what?”
“Fucking Max! I told him!” Charles shakes Pierre to punctuate his statement, eyes blown wide like saucers. Pierre huffs out a deep, long-suffering sigh.
“Oh Christ. Let’s sit down please at least.”
Charles nods and wastes no time dragging Pierre over to the seats. Out of his periphery, Pierre can see Lewis and Daniel also moving to sit down. They settle into some chairs, Pierre slouched comfortably, and Charles sat ramrod straight, leg bouncing in anxiety.
“So you told Max about your crush?” that catches Charles off guard, nose scrunching up like it always does when Pierre says something outlandish.
“No. I’m not fucking crazy Pierre! I just told him, you know-- he’s not alone.” Charles trails off.
“And what did he say?”
“I don’t know”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” out of the corner of his eye, he can see Max scurry into the room, taking a seat behind Lewis and Daniel.
“I didn’t wait around for an answer. I was nervous Pierre! Who knows what he was thinking!” Charles and him both look across the way to Max, who catches Charles’s gaze and smiles as he says something to Daniel.
Those two were so gone for each other it was almost frustrating.
“I think it’s probably fine Charles.”
Whatever Charles was about to say in response is cut off by George clearing his throat in the front of the room.
The meeting was starting.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Max doesn’t want to be here. He had sufficiently distracted himself on the way in by talking this Charles, and then by wandering in the wake of the bomb of information that had been dropped on him, but now he needed to be professional again.
He had gotten out of doing press yesterday, mostly sticking to red bull sponsorship stuff and begging off for some rest when it came time to do actual press. Vicky had let him, but made it very clear he could not be avoiding it when it came time for actual race weekend tasks.
He had already discussed with her some press ready responses, ways to pivot away from the elephant sat heavy over the weekend and divert towards the race and the car or literally anything other than the big hanging Max Verstappen is a Raging Homosexual topic.
What he didn’t have any preparations for was George and his stupid meeting to discuss Max’s gayness.
It wasn’t all about that. George did open with some discussion about potential concerns to bring up about penalties to the stewards, but that conversation was quick. Its in the silence that followed that max felt an itching starting to grow under his skin.
“so-“ George makes a valent effort to not call out max, avoiding the side of the room max was on entirely. Max was growing frustrated, a sigh escaping him involuntarily. It draws all the attention to him.
“Max would you-“ George starts tentatively, as if max is liable to run away.
Max wants to run away.
“Fucking sure.” Max stands up anyway, pointedly not making eye contact as he feels all the eyes in the room draw to him.
“Look I don’t want this to be a big thing. I’m still the same Max you all know. I’m going to come here to win like always.”
Max can hear a loud groan coming from the two McLaren boys.
“Just… I saw what you all have said to the press, and you have done really good. I appreciate your efforts.” He sends a smile to lance in particular.
“So say what you want to say now. I know you all must have some questions.”
Its silent for a moment, everyone waiting for someone else to speak. Surprisingly, its Alonso who goes first.
“How are you dealing with Abu Dhabi?”
That was a major concern he had talked about with his team.
“Not to sound cocky, but we were hoping to have the championship secured by then, in which we would just not participate. Otherwise, either we’ll make a deal with the Abu Dhabi government to keep me from getting arrested during the race or Liam will take my seat for the final race.”
“If you can’t race, I won’t race.” Charles statement surprises the room, but the gaze he shares with max is deep and poignant. Max mouths a thank you too him and Charles smiles.
“Same here. We race as one.” Lewis declares. A wave of mummers crosses the room, some in agreement and some in slight hesitancy.
“any other questions?” Max cuts through the hubbub.
“Yeah I have a question. Is there anything we can do to make all this easier for you?” George asks softly. George was always so kind. Max smiles slightly.
“I mean, I know I haven’t always been the nicest, but I ask if you have problems with me, attack my racing not my sexuality. I don’t think you all would call names but watch your radios, I know how heated things get in the cockpit.”
“Otherwise, I appreciate what little things you all can to keep the press from eating me alive. Lance I can’t tell you how much I appreciated the press being pushed away today.”
“Its really no problem.” Lance interjects. Max nods at him before taking a final deep breath. He only had one more thing to ask. Max wasn’t one to admit to being scared, but the vulnerability of this next topic had him wringing his hands. Daniel, the saint he was, patted max on the leg slightly in reassurance. Max took a deep breath.
“Final thing. If any of you see my dad around, please let me know. he’s- were just- I’m not on the best terms with him and I would like to avoid him if at all possible. Ok thank you that’s all I’m leaving.” And max was leaving the room before anyone could say a word. From the corner of his eye he could see Lando being pulled back from following him by Oscar, Daniel being pulled back in a similar way by Lewis. Max didn’t even bother looking back to Charles.
As he exited through the doors, he could distantly hear George closing out the meeting, the sounds of the paddock slowly drowning him out.
Max needed to get out of here. It was getting hard to think. So much had happened in such little time. It was getting hard to breath.
Max walked forward, feet guiding him without his conscious. He was floating a million miles away.
he didn’t know for how long he stayed like that, walking aimlessly around the paddock, but eventually he found his way to an alcove away from it all. An alley way between two motorhomes, a slight jump from a bin up to the top of some stuck-out AC unit. Up here max was completely invisible, so hidden he could finally think.
He didn’t know how long he sat up there just thinking. Calming himself down from what ever whirl of emotions had just flared up inside him, but he was dragged out of it by the sound of someone approaching.
“Go away.”
“You need to get better hiding spots mate. This was my freak out spot.” Charles jokes leaning up against the AC unit max was perched on.
“Oh come on you’ve already seen me freak out once today, do you have to stay for another round?”
“No. Just thought you could maybe use the company?”
“Ugh. This weekend has been enough as is. Ill be fine Charles. Go chat with Pierre or something.”
“I have already chatted Pierre’s ear off today. You aren’t the only one who has had a bit of a freak out.”
It means I didn’t have to be the first. The conversation from earlier slams full force back into Max.
“He knows?”
Charles hums.
“Are you planning on telling anyone else?” Charles looks over at max with a somber look in his eye.
Ferrari’s golden boy , Il predestinato, the unofficial prince of Monaco, a promising driver yet to have a title under his belt.
They both knew he would never be awarded the same privileges as max in his current standing.
“Maybe one day. Wouldn’t want to look like I’m just copying you.” Charles jokes. They lapse into silence.
Charles’s phone pings, breaking the silence between them.
“ah its Daniel. He’s trying to figure out where you are.”
“He always worries so much. Why did he text you?” Max asks. Charles just shows him his screen with a smile.
Max laughs at his friend’s comments, Charles smiling in turn as he tucks his phone back into his pocket, offering a hand up to max.
“Come on lets head on.” Max takes his hand and jumps down, maybe lingering in the hold for a second too long as they stand next to each other. But the moment soon fades. Max lets go.
“Im going to kick your ass in FP1.”
“Ugh as if.”
And the world keeps spinning like normal.
Chapter 7
Notes:
hello hello party people. spring break is over and finals procrasitination is in full swing. i hope you enjoy this, because i enjoyed wiriting it.
RIP max Verstappen, hes not dead just DNF'ed a race
Chapter Text
Max doesn’t quite kick his ass, but he does put in a faster time that Charles in FP1. Surprisingly, maybe as a blessing, Checo puts in a faster time than either of them.
Maybe it was the nervous energy from earlier taking over, but Max didn’t mind as it meant that Checo got to go over to media in the evening if he manages to do well in FP2 as well.
FP2 doesn’t go as well. Competitive nature eating at him as he sets a flying lap only to hear from his engineer that Charles had gotten a better time by just a few hundredths.
He climbs out of the cockpit and instinctively looks around him for Charles. Their off track debriefs were a near constant at this point and Max was still trying to cling on to some normality with this chaotic weekend.
Max eventually finds him stood talking rapidly with Silvia, who is only taking gaps in her explaining to glare angerly in Max’s direction. Despite having never really interacted with her, Max feels a since of guilt climbing up his back regardless.
This couldn’t be good.
Casting his eyes away, Max turns to head back to the garage, only to be grabbed by a frantic looking Vicky who starts to drag him towards the garage at a rapid rate.
“Vicky? What’s going-“
“Shut up max”
This really couldn’t be good.
Max lets himself be dragged off, wisely shutting his mouth as he goes, but shooting looks of ‘help me’ to every person he sees as he passes the garages. Checo gives him a look of sympathy from where he is chatting with Daniel, both of them having finished a solid 4th and 7th. Daniel doesn’t give him a look of pity, but rather hollers out an “OOOOOOOO somebody’s in trouble!” as Max gets dragged by.
Max prides himself on being a more mature driver now than he was in his youth, but he still sticks out his tongue as he shoots Daniel the bird.
Vicky makes a few more winding turns before she drags max into a room and gently shoves him into a chair. Taking in his surroundings now, he can see a still fuming Vicky rounding the table and a visibly stressed Christian sat rubbing at his temple as he glares at something on his laptop.
Oh Max was seriously fucked.
“Max, do you have something you want to tell us?” Vicky’s smooth tone sits in utter contrast to the visible stress settling on her form.
“I – Uhm- No?” Max responds, fiddling slightly with the hem zipper of the race suit he is still wearing.
Vicky huffs out dramatically and turns to look at Christian, who sighs in turn as he slightly closes his laptop and turns to look at max, posture shifting into something serious.
“Max- the press has photos. You didn’t think to at least give us the heads up?”
Max’s heart is racing. He has no idea what they are talking about. Did someone get a photo of his phone screen and publish the texts he got from his father? Max takes a breath and wipes his sweaty palms on his fireproofs.
“Look if this is about my dad-“
Christian and Vicky’s faces screw up in confusion.
“Why would this be about your dad?” Christian asks, leaning back slightly as if to lessen the interrogation atmosphere of the room.
“Well- you said the press has photos. Someone got a look at my texts on my phone, right? I promise I was going to tell you about it but I had a drivers meeting and-“ Max trails off, pointedly looking anywhere but Christian’s face.
“Is it really that bad?” Christian half whispers. Max shoots him a sideways glace in conformation before Vicky cuts in.
“No Max. no one got any photos from your phone. But I’ll make a note to prepare for some potential bull shit from your father on the press front.” She says noting something down on a small sticky note.
“Well, if its not that then what is it? And why was Silvia glaring at me as if I had murdered someone?”
That seems to spur them both back into action. Both glaring back and forth as if playing hot potato with the subject.
“Ok ill bite. Why didn’t you tell us you and Charles were dating?” Christian asks. Max can’t hold back the loud bark of laughter that escapes him.
“What?”
“Oh come on Max! the sun published these during free practice today! Why didn’t you tell us!” Vicky spins the laptop to show the article. Its title reads in bold:
“Star-crossed rivals? Secret paddock romance spotted between Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen”
And underneath it is a rather grainy set of photographs showing in series Max laughing as Charles shows him his phone, Max smiling brightly as he takes the hand Charles had offered him to get down from his perch, and finally Max and Charles’s intertwined hands once Max had gotten down.
Max knows the truth behind them, but even he can see how his own face is looking at Charles as if the man hung the moon.
“Dating a Ferrari driver can get us in serious hot water Max.” Christian adds on, sobering Max up and bringing him back down to the reality of the situation.
“Well then, it’s a good thing we aren’t dating then. I was having a small freak out after the drivers meeting today and he came and found me. Cheered me up a little that’s all.”
Christian breathes a visible sigh of relief, but Vicky still gives him a solid side eye that makes him feel like a cockroach under her boot.
“Max you practically have love hearts in your eyes in these photos.”
“I can assure you we aren’t dating Vicky.” He lets the statement hang there, doing his best to match her gaze. Her fingers tap rhythmically against the table as she stares back, seemingly mapping out his entire being as he does.
“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ on the end of that statement Max?” Max crumbles immediately.
“Oh my god. First it was Lewis and then Daniel but now you guys too? Am I really that obvious?”
“Seriously Max? out of all the drivers to have a crush on you have one on Leclerc? Ferrari golden boy Leclerc?” Christian says, slightly exasperated. Now it was max’s turn to rub at his temples.
“I know. trust me I fucking know.”
“How long?” the soft tone of Vicky’s voice has him looking up slightly.
“Val d’Argenton”
“holy shit Max-“
“I fucking know. We aren’t dating. I am very aware of that thank you.”
Seeing max in such a state of such morose must exacerbate whatever pity Vicky was felling because she leans across the table and gently pats max’s arm.
“why don’t you head back to your room and get changed back into regular clothes. We’ll deal with this.”
“Thanks.” Max is a bit more clipped that intended, but he needs to get out of this room as soon as possible.
“Don’t talk to any reporters on your way Max!” he shoots her a thumbs up though the open door and is gone before any of them can blink.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Max slams the door to his drivers shut after half sprinting across the paddock. He had seen Charles out of the corner of his eye as he speed walked past and by some miracle, he avoided running into any one when he pointedly looked the opposite direction.
Max wasn’t one for dramatics, but he couldn’t help collapsing against the door with a dramatic sigh as he let is bodyweight slide him downwards. Today had been a lot. He earned his dramaticism.
There is a few peaceful moments where Max allows himself to just breath. The fireproofs shed from his shoulders with ease as he lets his eyes fall shut for just a moment. Its calm.
“Hey maxie! You decent?”
Fucking Daniel.
“Just a second!” Max rolls out the way of the door just in time for Daniel to swing it wide open. That man never did have respect for his privacy.
“Max!” Daniel’s eyes scan the room looking for him before they eventually settle on his form sat on the ground. He must make a sad sight based on how Daniel’s expression screws up in a “someone just kicked a puppy in front of me” way.
“This day has been so much Daniel. Could you please.” Max gestures to the door with the hand that isn’t actively rubbing at his temple.
“No can do, Maximillian! I have been sent here by request of one Lando Norris, could you please answer his texts.” Daniel leans down to whisper the next bit “Please God answer him he’s driving us all crazy. I think I saw an emotion on Oscar’s face he was so annoyed by him.”
Max snorts rather unattractive, running a hand down his face as he sits up a bit to look at his phone.
F1 2024 Grid
Max laughs as he goes to type back.
Max shuts off his phone and looks up at Daniel with a scheming look.
Daniel, who was actively looking at his phone, bursts into deep howls of laughter. The noise of it makes max burst into giggles as well.
Past the confines of their drivers’ walls, a young Aussie driver is heard letting out a frustrated yell as his friend breaks into his drivers room.
Peace is such a luxury here in the life of Formula 1.
Chapter 8
Notes:
im not super happy with this one but i had time so please enjoy it. finals is rapidly aproaching and im going insane.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ferrari and Red Bull put out joint statements that afternoon, killing the news cycle before it really starts to heat up. Their messages condemning the media pushing false narratives and probing into the lives of drivers does good work to squash the rumors.
It also helps that an image of a visibly annoyed Oscar Piastri pulling his hat over his eyes while an over eager Lando yells at him from the side hits the media and immediately goes viral.
But for however much Red Bull and Ferrari could try to diffuse the situation, nothing could control for the drivers and their big mouths.
And quite surprisingly it’s not Max who fucks it up.
No. Max goes back to the hotel not long after changing into his standard polo. He leaves the group chat sitting for almost an hour before confirming that he and Charles aren’t together. He avoids the media like the plague, even venturing to leave the paddock in Daniel’s car rather than the one he came in.
They grab some trainer-approved meals together, snacking in Max’s room and watching some television.
Its calm, Max avoiding his phone as Daniel gives him updates and occasionally showing him funny memes that arise from the McLaren photos.
So Max isn’t the one that fucks it up. Its Charles who fucks it up, a fact he learns from Lando and Oscar showing up at his door.
The banging on the door is an annoyance he can’t ignore, groaning as he sits up to glare at Daniel who is propped up against the headboard staring at Instagram. Daniel looks back at him.
“I gave Lando your room number. He was going insane.”
Max glares harder.
Daniel raises his eyebrows back. Max concedes.
The second the door opens, Lando is through it like a horse to the races tackling Max into a giant hug that knocks him to the floor. Oscar behind him holds open the door slightly, sharing a look with Max and then with Daniel across the room.
“I’d like to say I tried to stop him, but I just came along to minimize collateral.”
Max didn’t know the younger driver that well, but with how close he had gotten with Lando these days, he could almost see them becoming friends. He needed more people around to offset the high Lando-Daniel energy that had been accumulating.
“Its fine. This was inevitable really.” Max grunts out as he peels himself off the floor. Lando like wise pulls himself up, brushing himself off as he stands, patting Max on the shoulder in a much more mature way.
“Sorry about that mate.” Lando has the decency to say. Oscar huffs and shakes his head. Max smiles slightly at him.
“Its fine Lando, sorry for not reaching out earlier.” And in a heart beat the hyper Lando is back.
“Its fine! And besides! We need to chat!”
“Here he fucking goes again.” Oscar sighs making himself comfortable in one of the chairs Daniel and max had pulled out to play games a little earlier.
“Did you see what Charles said to the media earlier?”
Max perks up at the mention of Charles. It must show on his face too as he sees Daniel shoot a long-suffering look of commiseration to Oscar and how Lando lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“What’s that on your face?”
“My face. What did Charles say to the media?” max tries to divert.
“You have a crush, don’t you?”
“No.” Max says at the same time Daniel says “Its fucking ludicrous”
Max turns and glares daggers at him. Lando has a cheshire grin so wide Max fears his face may split in two.
“Interesting, very interesting—” Lando starts but the sheer fatigued look Max shoots him has the smile faltering a bit.
“Lando. The media. You know the entire reason you dragged me here?” Oscar interjects. Max finds himself enjoying the company of the Aussie more and more as they interact.
“Right!” Lando fumbles a bit for his phone and pulls up a YouTube video. All four of them in the room cluster up to watch it as Lando hits play.
The video is clearly shot from a phone, some fan following behind the proper media with their large cameras and handheld audio recorders as they all press in on Charles as he leaves the paddock. Even though he has security with him, Max can tell he is struggling as he fights his way past the sharks.
Max can tell, after years of knowing him and memorizing every little detail of Charles Leclerc that he is tired. Charles is exhausted and fed up with all the hubbub. Its of no secret to Max that the grilling he got from Ferrari was probably much more intense than the one Red Bull had had with him.
Much like him, Charles looks like he just wants to rest after a rough day.
The camera jostles a tad as who ever is filming moves closer. From behind the camera, you can clearly hear some vile voice shout “Charles! Can you believe that people think you’re dating that queer?”
From beside him, Daniel, Lando and Oscar all recoil slightly at the vitriol in the man’s tone, and distantly Max can hear Lando apologizing for not warning him. Max doesn’t say anything though, to locked on to the screen in front of him.
Because on the video he can see Charles look up and there is a fiery rage burning in his eyes unlike anything Max has ever seen before. Charles stands taller than Max is used too, chest pushed out in defiance.
“And so what if I was? It wouldn’t fucking matter now would it.” Charles spits before he turns and enters the waiting car. The video cuts just as the crowd roars, and all they are left with is a black mirror reflecting their own shocked faces.
There is a beat of silence then-
“That was-“ Daniel starts
“-Fucking hot is what that was.” Max finishes. He keeps replaying it in his mind. The fiery look in Charles’s eyes as he defends Max.
He can feel all of them staring at him.
“Oh come on now. You all are going to barge into my room and then have the audacity to judge me?” Max defends. Lando pulls his phone back in surrender.
“Whatever floats your boat mate. I just can’t believe Charles said that though. He has like the best media training of all of us.”
“Yeah Ferrari is sure to rip him a new one after that.” Daniel tacks on, and that feeling returns the dread on Charles’s behalf that Max had felt earlier in the day. Max needed to do something about it.
“I’ll have to one up him then.” Max says, the idea coming to him as clear as revelation.
“Aren’t you in hot water with Vicky already? Do you seriously think that’s a good idea?” Daniel asks, and max smiles.
“Eh. It will get Ferrari of Charles’s back at least. And it might add fuel to that twitter fire you were telling me about earlier. I like those dumb edits you showed me.”
Daniel rolls his eyes “Whatever you say Maxie.”
“Yeah Max. you got to be careful with those edits though. My Tik Tok seems to think that Oscar and I are in some hidden relationship. They go a bit crazy over there.” Lando says with a laugh. Max prides himself on being able to read people, a skill honed over years and years and years. It’s the only reason he sees the slight dimming in Oscar’s eyes as Lando jokes. Its super brief, barely a blink, but the way he catches Daniel’s eye tells him that he saw it too.
The conversation pitters out and Oscar yawns a bit, earning him some slight ribbing from Lando but it doesn’t take much convincing (or rather demanding from Max) to get the two McLaren drivers out of the door from which they came.
Thus, leaving Daniel and Max alone in Max’s room again.
“Did you see that too or am I going crazy?” Max starts.
“No no I saw it. Thank God those two aren’t nearly as bad as you and Leclerc are.” Max shoves Daniel lightly with a smile on his face that Daniel returns in turn.
“Get back to your room now you free loader!” Max laughs shoving Daniel to the door and giggling his way through Dan’s protests.
Then the door is shut. And Max can finally breathe.
And if twitter goes wild that night when max likes a tweet commenting on how hot Charles looked defending max? well that was a problem for the morning. Max had much more planned.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Charles is tired.
There is something world weary about his visage as he catches his reflection in the mirror. He can’t help but stare at it as he prods at his own face, fingertips lingering over eye bags.
He hadn’t slept much that night, a fact he would never utter to a soul.
No instead Charles had stayed up, staring at his twitter feed and Instagram as it all imploded.
In the process of the yelling sylvia had had with him, Charles had spilled about both his gayness and his crush on max. this opened another can of worms and hard conversations that had just left him feeling tired and guilty.
He hadn’t meant to cause issues.
He hadn’t meant to come out. He wasn’t ready to come out.
But there he was, trying to develop a PR strategy for how he would one day.
Charles just wanted to rest. He ignored Pierre. He ignored Carlos. He ignored everything as he tried to pull himself out of the paddock.
He couldn’t ignore the vitriolic words that man had shouted to him though.
Charles knew better than to bite back. Hell, he had been in meetings all afternoon telling him what to say and how to act and preparing for anything that could be thrown his way.
But there was something about his fatigue, something about the mental strain, something about the words of anger.
Charles watched himself from an outside perspective as the red clouded his vision and he spat back what he really felt.
Sylvia was going to eat him.
So Charles, despite his fatigue, had not slept. No, he just watched twitter and prayed to all things above that no one had seen through his anger to see the love beneath.
Charles pulls himself together enough to shuffle down to breakfast. Carlos wisely doesn’t bother him as he sits down with his plate and continues scrolling.
The food tastes horrifically bland. The grey cloud hanging over Charles darkens further.
He puts in a truly terrible show in FP3, mental energy just completely drained from him. He shrugs off the concerned glances from Carlos and the engineers as he shuffles to his drivers’ room.
He needed to fix this. He needed to pull himself together before qualifying. He couldn’t let this get to him. Not today.
And its as he’s resting that his phone pings.
Charles can feel as his face screws up in both confusion and concern.
And Max doesn’t respond to any of Charles’s questions past that.
The dark cloud that had been hanging over him only dissipates if to be replaced with confusion and anxiety.
Charles is back to his doom scrolling when he sees it. His name trending on twitter, “pretty” trending alongside it.
He clicks on it immediately. Playing the first video that comes up.
Its Max, taking a question from a reporter. His first media appearance since all of this began. The video is clearly a clip cut from a much larger and longer conference.
“Hello max. quick question here,” The reporter starts max turning to face her as she speaks. “Yesterday there were quite some rumors floating around speculating about your relationships that you and Red Bull were quick to suppress. What are your thoughts about all the news that was drummed up yesterday?”
The microphone is pointed towards his face and Charles hinds himself holding his breath as Max begins to respond.
“well obviously it was a giant invasion of privacy, and some rather unprofessional speculation. But past that it was also quite offensive.” Max starts, and Charles can feel a frown on his face in contrast to the smile starting to grow on Max’s.
“I mean, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m going to date the first pretty man I see!”
Charles is glad he was already sitting down because the statement would have surely knocked him on his ass otherwise.
Pretty! Max though he was pretty.
Just like that his mood flips completely, smile creeping at the edge of his lips. He scrolls a bit more through the trending tweets and finds most of them to be in a similar vein to his own thoughts. Freaking out over max calling him pretty.
Charles stands as a real smile graces his face, exiting his drivers’ room with an extra pep to his step.
He puts it on pole in qualifying, max in place right behind him.
They collide together as they exit the vehicles and move towards media, their bodies seemingly drawn together as they shake hands, pat each other on the back.
“That was rather chaotic of you, you know.” Charles says, slipping the balaclava off his head and shaking out his hair. Max does much the same, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
“Thank you.”
Max doesn’t respond, he just smiles in that way he always does, eyes squinting up and nose scrunching into something that could only be endearing.
The next day, Max wins the race like he said he would. Someone somewhere passes a pride flag into his hands which he waves wildly from the top step before draping it gently over his shoulders as they spray champaign and pose for a photo.
Charles finds his visage to almost be Holy.
Notes:
maybehaps i write a sequel investigating what the fuck ladoscar's deal is....
Chapter 9
Notes:
hello I'm back. finals kicked my ass and the month of may ran me over.
but Charles Leclerc won his home grand prix and i was full sobbing on the floor about it so enjoy the gay shit it birthed.
Chapter Text
The championship comes more alive as time passes, Max pushing his Red Bull to the limit race by race, but still finding himself fighting against the rapid pace of the McLarens and the Ferraris. He should find it more annoying now, a win not as promised as the year before, but Max doesn’t.
Max finds in invigorating.
The podium is awash with faces, six drivers swapping amongst the steps. It feels like anyone’s game to win, so long as Carlos and Oscar don’t end up next to each other.
The car feels good, the fight feels good. Max feels so free.
Drivers stick to their word and put on a clean race, and Max does his best to put on a show, make his wins clean as he skirts over the finish line in Spa.
He pulls into the pits, parking under the p1 placard, waving to the crowd as he gets out of the car. Charles pulls up to his side in that same moment. They arrive side by side as always these days.
If there was one great thing that had happened since Max came out, it was the spark of something that had built between them. Rarely did they go a day without messaging each other now. Frequently they found themselves at each other’s sides on race weekends.
It was nice -- no other word to describe it-- just nice to have someone who could understand.
The PR teams on the other hand- well that was a whole other ball game.
Silvia had been driving Charles up the wall with directions. The team couldn’t seem to tell if them being close was a PR win or a disaster.
[Charles had been called to a ‘crisis’ meeting after they side hugged on the podium in Austria. Max laughed so hard at the news that water shot out his nose]
So, they found themselves together again, chatting about everything and nothing as they finally started their way out of the paddock.
“Do you have anything planned for the break?” Max asks. Charles shrugs in response.
“The team wants me to do some training of course, get ready for the rest of the season but other than that? I’m just hanging at home.”
Max rolls his eyes “ah yes training of course.”
Charles gives him a shove in the side at his tone, Max smiles as he dodges the blow “as if you’re any better? What are you going to tell your team that you are training by doing a new 24-hour E-race?”
Max laughs, a full-bodied thing and goes to respond when a yell catches his attention.
“Max Emilian!”
Max’s blood runs cold as he and Charles’s heads both whip up at the sound of a woman’s voice echoing across the paddock. There, in the light of a summer afternoon, Max’s sister stands with a smile that only barely hides the annoyance in her visage.
Ok so Max might have fucked up. He had meant to tell his mom and sister before the news had dropped on Instagram, but in the midst of his freak out and his getting messy drunk in Lewis’s apartment (he still owed him some wine, maybe some nice local Riesling would be good). And then after that he had been so caught up by the media hubbub and the title fight going on and everything coming up to the summer break.
That all is to say, Max had honestly been a terrible son and brother recently.
“Hey Charles, is it ok if I catch up with you later?” Max says without breaking his gaze from his sister. Max doesn’t even need to look at him as he feels the smile spread on his face and he shoves his shoulder that says go on.
“Ah Victoria!” Max yells out with a shaky smile as he approaches her, “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“Didn’t know I was coming? I texted you so many times!” Max’s smile falters, eyes pivoting back to Charles on instinct only to find the other driver holding back a laugh.
“I’m sorry its just been so-“
“Oh save it! Give me a hug at least you arse!” the hug forces a grunt out of him as she clutches him close. Charles lets out a full chuckle, causing Max to flip him off with his free hand as he hugs his sister back. Charles just smiles in that endearing way of his before he is gone, leaving the siblings to work out their own.
“Victoria I’m so sorry I completely forgot it’s been so crazy lately and-“
“Shut up”
“Ok.”
Max leans hard into the hug, letting himself relax as his sister makes her best attempt at crushing his spine. Finally after a long moment, she lets him go, holding him at arm’s length and giving him an appraising look. Max’s throat goes dry with it.
“You aren’t mad right? I swear I meant to tell you” Max says, voice barely a whisper. His sister looks up in that moment, face shuffling away from appraising to a sort of proud yet somber smile.
“Oh Max, you know I could never be mad at you. That being said you owe me a coffee and some explanations before you get to go see your nephew”
-=-=-=-=-=-
They don’t end up getting coffee. Instead, they hit traffic on their way out of the paddock after Max is done with the race debrief. They end up rolling into Victoria’s driveway that evening after making a few stops on the way home.
Not that it mattered much though, as the kids were out having watched the race at a sleep over party with their friends and Victoria’s husband was out for some business event. It just left them, a brother and sister sat together in an empty home on a late evening. It was Home, always would be.
Max enters the kitchen, bags in his arms busting at the seams, and immediately starts putting groceries away, stacking the ice cream into the freezer and shoving other nick-nacks into the pantry.
“You know helping me with tasks doesn’t get you out of this right?” Victoria asks from behind him, the slight sound of glass hitting metal indicating that she’s pulling out a drink.
Max rolls his eyes as he puts away a pack of Oreos, turning back to her and pulling the wine bottle from her hands and opening it with a satisfying POP!
“I try to be a good and kind brother, and this is the treatment I get?” Max jokes as it is Victoria’s turn to roll her eyes as she pulls out two glasses, jumping up to sit on the island in a smooth motion. Max smiles and jumps up beside here, grabbing the glass she offered and pouring them both a heavy glass of red.
For a moment they just sit, cool granite under their legs as they sip their drinks and let their feet swing gently against the cabinets. The dying summer light casting the kitchen in a still amber, crystalline and warm.
“You could have told me you know.” Victoria’s voice comes light and soft. Max turns to her, setting down his glass to brace his arms on the edge of the counter.
“I really meant to I just got so busy.” Max can feel the look she gives him burning the side of his face and he looks away.
“Max.” he never could lie to her.
“I was scared. I know it doesn’t make sense and it wasn’t logical, but I don’t know- strangers felt easier, less-- vulnerable I guess.”
There is silence for a moment, Max still staring away. Victoria moves her hand to rest atop his, thumb rubbing comforting circles on his hand.
“I am proud of you. I need you to know that at least.” Max turns to her with a smile.
“I know.”
“I also need you to know that you now have to talk about boys with me.” Max rolls his eyes and takes a sip of wine, suddenly having flash backs to that night after the race in Monaco.
“when there’s something to talk about I will.”
“Oh please, you’re a sporting icon! There must be men throwing themselves at you!”
“eh, its harder than you think. It makes it harder to find something real.”
“Like what you have with Charles?” max chokes on his drink as Victoria takes a long slurp of hers, and eyebrow raising knowingly as Max pulls off the counter to clean the wine he spat out.
“oh not you too.”
“what kind of a sister would I be if I didn’t ask you about your crush? Are you going to ask him out?”
“No.”
“What? Why?” Max looks up at her, a wordless conversation passing between them, her hard look pushing the question.
“He doesn’t like me like that.” Max answers, diverting his eyes to hide his blush.
“Oh My God.” Victoria exclaims exacerbated. “Max that boy has looked at you like you hung the stars for years you seriously cannot be that blind!”
“Vic. He doesn’t like me like that, were just friends.” Max responds, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring himself a new glass.
“Have you asked him?”
“of course not!”
“Then you can’t know that! You should ask him at least.” Max sighs running a hand over his face and Victoria gestures animatedly.
“But what if he hates me Vic? We have a good thing going right now, I don’t want to lose it.”
Victoria puts down her drink to look him in the eyes, her eyes hard and knowing.
“First of all, Max, you have hated each other in the past and you’ve come back from it. I don’t need to remind you of the chat we had after Australia all those years ago.”
Max’s blush comes back stronger now for a different reason than before.
“and secondly, the Max I know has never been afraid to do anything before. And I’m not saying you need to propose to the man, but the brother I know would not be afraid of asking a man out for coffee.”
Max takes a second to absorb her words, a response rolling around like marbles on his tongue. He opens his mouth to respond.
Nothing comes out.
Because she’s right. She is absolutely correct. Max has no rebuttal to her claims. For a second the image of Charles, his head thrown back in laughter as they cross the paddock, his smiling glare as they pass each other on a lap flashes his mind.
Max had never been one to brake early, always one to try to take a corner flat out. He wasn’t afraid of any track, never afraid of putting his elbows out and making the bold move. Why would he be afraid of asking a boy on a date?
“you’re right.” Max says with a sigh.
Victoria smiles. “I Usually am.” She says taking a sip of her drink. Shoves her shoulder in response, stifling his laughter as they both stumble with the force of it.
-=-=-=-=-=-
That evening, Max finds himself on the couch, itchy blanket draped clumsily over his body as he stares at the slowly rotating fan in the room.
The conversation from earlier rolls in his head as a roaring tidal wave, making its best attempt at swallowing him whole. Its almost embarrassing really, how frequently he opens his phone to tell Charles about the whole thing only to remember that Charles is the whole thing and put his phone down again.
Its nearly 2 am, much to late to be texting anyone, but max’s head is still dizzy from the wine and the elation of the win. Charles is likely to be landing in Monaco soon, this is the best chance he has. His brain echoes his sister’s words from earlier the Max I know has never been afraid to do anything before.
Max takes a deep breath.
If you no longer go for a gap that exists,
you are no longer a racing driver.
Max exhales.
Max exhales a laugh, waiting a minute before typing back.
Max’s anxiety ticks steadily upwards with every second Charles doesn’t respond, each instance of the typing bubble popping up. Light years pass between seconds.
A continent away, a Monegasque boy stifles an excited scream by biting down on his hoodie sleeve. Next to him, a nosey Frenchman tries to grab his phone enough to find what caused his friend to scream so loud in a god damn airport.
Chapter 10
Notes:
you think you get date this chapter? No, goofy times.
[date upcoming do not worry, big big gay date happening]
im not the most happy with this chapter as i feel like ppl are a tad ooc but eh, were getting there
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Its 9 pm on a beautiful Wednesday evening in Monaco. The moonlight glistens beautiful off the rolling ocean waves in the pier, and joyful sounds echo down the streets as the city shifts from evening to late night activity.
From his balcony, Max turns away from his people watching and wanders back into his apartment, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as a new text from Charles lights up his phone screen. They had been talking non-stop since Max had landed back in Monaco.
And by non-stop, Max means constantly. The whole date thing had ended up being so much less work than he imagined, since apparently the only hard part had been asking. After that Charles had taken it upon himself to plan out the entire thing. Charles picked the cafe; he picked a time. Hell- he had even picked a place for them to walk too if the cafe ended up being too crowded.
It was all perfectly planned out all Max had to do was show up.
Max was, at 10 am tomorrow, going on a coffee date with Charles Leclerc.
God what did he do to get a life so good.
Max is busted out of his thoughts by the sound of his phone buzzing with an incoming call, Daniel’s cheesy grin lighting up his screen as he falls back onto the couch, cats scattering across the room as he does so. He answers the face time with a smile on his face.
“Hello Daniel!”
“Maxy! What’s got you so smiley tonight?” Dan answers, and Max rolls his eyes.
“Obviously your dumb face.” Max smiles wide as Dan’s face contorts into faux offence.
“My dumb face? Oh, Max I can’t believe it! I thought we were friends! And to believe I was about to invite you to play paddle with me tomorrow morning!” Daniel clutches at invisible pearls, making Max laugh at his friend’s antics.
“You might be better off inviting Lando, mate. I’ve got a date tomorrow morning.” Max laughs out.
“WHAT!” Daniel yells through the screen. Its loud enough that Max feels like he can almost hear it through the floors below.
Oops.
“Yeah, I’ve got a date tomorrow morning.” Max doubles down, ignoring the heat that rises to his cheeks. From what he can tell through the phone, Daniel is clutching his phone with both hands and holding it much closer to his face in response to Max’s news. Max can’t help but laugh and take a screen shot of it.
“Max! Oh my god! You’re going on a date? On a Thursday morning?” Daniel says. Max can see from the background that Daniel is walking, but he ignores it.
“I didn’t plan it. He took care of it all. It was really sweet actually.” Max definitely can’t hide the blush that appears when he says that last part.
“Oh my god. You are telling me everything. I’m coming over!”
“No Daniel come on! Its late.”
“Too bad I’m already outside your door.” Ah so that’s why he was moving. Max hangs up with a huff, taking his sweet time walking to the door before letting Daniel in.
“Oh My boy is going on a date!” Daniel exclaims, sauntering into his home with that standard air of nonchalance that Daniel always carries. Max, for what feels like the millionth time, rolls his eyes.
“its really not a big deal-“
“It is totally a big deal Max! You’re going on your first ever date with a man! You’re bound to feel some sort of way about that.”
And the thing is Max does feel some type of way about that. He’s been out for a bit now, it’s not constant in the news cycle, but it still is new. It still is a big deal, Max knows that. He’s trying hard not to think about it.
“I’m trying hard not to think about it. Plus, it’s his first date with a man as well. That helps the nerves a bit.”
“But you’re still nervous about it?” Daniel asks, helping himself to a beer from Max’s fridge.
“Fucking freeloader.”
“I’m here to help with whatever crisis you’re bound to spiral into. You owe me this at least.”
“I’m not having a crisis! It’s just a date, Daniel! We’re going to a coffee shop he recommended.”
“Uh huh-“Daniel says, looking at him from his kitchen with that appraising, disbelieving look of his, eyes squinted in suspicion. Max holds his ground, trying to hold an air of innocence.
Daniel eventually drops his look with a sigh, conceding to Max. He tries to not show his glee at winning their little battle.
“Ok at the very least you have to let me help you find an outfit. What kind of a friend would I be if I let you go on a date in your usual get up.” Daniel says as he finishes his drink and wanders out of the kitchen and into Max’s bedroom. Max follows behind, very slightly offended by his friend’s statement.
“What’s wrong with my normal clothes?” Max asks as Daniel starts rifling through his closet drawers. Max doesn’t see as much as he feels Daniel roll his eyes. They really do hang out too much.
“For starters, you wear basically the same outfit everywhere you go. It’s a date and you want to make a good impression and these-“Daniel holds up a pair of his jeans- “are not it Max.”
Daniel tosses them onto the floor and continues on before Max can even argue.
“And secondly, you never go anywhere without your red bull merch on, and I for one would not like it if my date showed up wearing an energy drink brand.” Daniel says, pulling out a pair of boxer briefs and throwing them at Max’s face.
“Wear those, they’ll make your ass look good if you get lucky.”
“Why the fuck would you-“ Max sighs, exacerbated at his friend’s rambling. “Yeah ok whatever you’ve got a point. Charles might actually kill me if I showed up to our date in my team kit.”
Daniel loudly bangs his head on the top of a shelf as he pulls back to give Max a bug-eyed look.
“What?” Max asks, trying to decipher Daniel’s sudden action.
“You’re going on a date with Charles mother fucking Leclerc?”
Son of a bitch.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Across town, in another Monaco apartment, a young man rummages through his closet while his friend watches on, unamused.
“Pierre, what do you think about these pants. Are they too brown to go with this top, or no? of course they are! I don’t even know why I’m asking.” Charles spits out with a huff, tossing the slacks back into his dresser.
“Charles it will be fine. You could quite literally wear a potato sack and still look great. You know this.” Pierre says in reply, not looking up from his place on the bed. Charles huffs again and rolls his eyes, taking a moment to forgo the chaos of his closet and opting instead to flop down beside his friend.
“I know, I know I’m just- I’m nervous Pierre.” Sensing the change of tone, Pierre puts down his phone and rotates his head to look Charles in the eye.
“do you want to talk it out? Because I think you need to talk it out.” Charles turns away from his gaze but starts speaking anyway.
“I mean. Its my first date with a guy, you know? and I just really want it to go well since I like him a lot. And God, it would go so so bad if this date goes bad Pierre.”
Pierre nods, and after a beat stands suddenly and walks into Charles’s closet.
“Pierre what are you-“Charles asks as he sits up, only to be hit in the face with a series of clothing items.
“Wear these for your date tomorrow. Anyone would be a fool to not like you Charles, but me helping can at least take the stress off your shoulders.”
“I- Thank you.” Charles smiles, standing to hug Pierre. He smiles in turn.
“of course, and at least you know you will likely be better dressed than he will now.” Charles lets out a snort at that, gently folding the outfit for tomorrow.
“Oh Of course, why was I even worrying! Max is probably going to show up in those god-awful skinny jeans of his anyway.”
Pierre’s smile softens as his assumptions are confirmed and takes his que to leave.
“Rest well Charles! Who knows you might get lucky tomorrow!” And Pierre is out the door before the balled-up socks even have a chance to hit him.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Its 10:03 on a Thursday morning in Monaco, and max is officially running late.
In the corner of the coffee shop, Charles sits, sipping gently from the latte he had ordered and resisting the urge to check his phone. There was no reason to freak out yet. Plus, Max wouldn’t just ditch him without a word, right?
As if sensing Charles’s mood, the dark cloud that had blown in overnight opens up, sending people scrambling as a hot summer deluge begins.
Charles sighs. This couldn’t get any more perfect could it. He had already freaked out about this whole date last night, and after finally working up his nerve to leave the apartment, his date was late, and the sky had opened up to a biblical flood. He takes another sip of his latte, wincing at the lukewarm temperature.
Great. Now even his coffee was bad.
Charles spends another five minutes sat there, staring down into the rainstorm as the hot and humid air starts to make his curls frizz, before he moves to text Max and just cancel, calling the entire thing a wash.
Then a motion catches his eye.
There in the pavilion across from the cafe, a man stands, peach orange shirt clinging to the muscles under it from the rain. He seems to be searching the road ahead for something when their eyes lock.
And its Max. breathing hard and absolutely soaking wet and stunning.
Charles feels himself blushing as he sees Max smile at him. Charles gives him a little wave, which max returns just as meekly.
And not a blink later, Max is there, crossing the road without even looking.
“Hi” Max greats, shaking the water out of his hair a bit as he walks up. Charles can feel his brain recalibrating in real time.
“Hi” Charles stumbles out with a shy smile, a sudden new type of nervousness swallowing him whole. There is a beat of awkward silence as they both just stand there, looking at each other. Smiling and blushing like kids.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, Today really ended up being a terrible day to walk.” Max jokes, breaking the tension between them. Charles finds himself giggling at it. Max smiles at his laughter.
“No No its fine, I will admit I was starting to think you had ghosted me here.”
“I would never.” Max replies, tone turning a bit serious as their gaze locks together. Intense and burning.
“You look good.” Max says, cutting through the tension.
“Ah thank you. You look good as well.”
Max laughs. “Please, I’m absolutely soaking wet. I might as well not be wearing a shirt with how much you can see through this thing.”
“Would that be so bad?” and now its Max’s turn to blush. He had seen Charles flirt before, with the girls that had passed through the paddock. He had seen how the girls had swooned around his words.
Max thought he was stronger.
He was not.
Charles, on the other hand, looks visibly shocked at his own words. The confidence that overtook him in that moment paying off brilliantly as he sees Max turn a lovely shade of red and shying away slightly. God he was so cute when he was shy.
Their little moment shatters as a woman behind them clears her throat. They both immediately turn to her, as she shrinks into her uniform a bit.
“Excuse me sirs? I- I don’t mean to interrupt but you are kind of leaving a puddle on our floor, and our manager says we aren’t supposed to-“ She fizzles out a bit as she talks on. Luckily Max jumps in.
“Oh of course! I am so sorry. I'll just-“ Max gestures towards the door.
“Do not worry. We can just head back to my place.” He says to Max before turning back to the waitress. “Thank you so much for the coffee, and we are very sorry for getting your floor wet.”
The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle in the time it takes for Charles to gather his stuff, shuffling his keys into his left hand and grabbing onto Max with his right, almost dragging him out of the place.
Under the cover of the awning, Charles stops for a second to spot his car on the street.
“So back to your place, huh?” Max says as Charles unlocks his car and begins walking towards it, never letting go of Max’s hand.
“I will not have you ruining this date because you catch a cold Max. I have some clothes that should fit you.” Charles lets go of his hand to open up the passenger side door for Max. Max shuffles in with a smile before Charles closes the door and runs around to the driver’s side.
“But what about breakfast?” Max asks as Charles cranks the engine, the feeling of it rattling alive under his fingers gives them both a small rush. Charles pauses a moment, before a sly smile creeps onto his lips.
“I’ve got waffles in my freezer?”
Max laughs at his response, nerves lost completely as Charles pulls out onto the road.
“That sounds perfect.”
Because for him, anything with Charles is.
Notes:
happy pride month yall
i celebrated by turning 21 and yelling about the Canadian GP
Chapter 11
Notes:
sorry this took a while. you will understand why.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite having known each other for well over two decades, Max had not once ever been to Charles’s apartment.
He is not quite sure what to expect as they pull up to the building, its tall façade looming almost ominously over the street. Charles maneuvers around the streets with ease, pulling up and around the complex before parking in one of the spots set for the building.
Max chooses not to comment on how awful the parking is.
“Follow me. You’re getting my seat wet.” Charles’s voice draws him back to attention. Max takes a second to unbuckle and climb out before turning to him.
“Geez, so demanding.” Max jokes, following a smiling Charles none the less.
The apartment building as they approach is quaint, much older than Max’s. There is a sense of history to it as Max walks down the hall to follow Charles to the elevator. Somehow, the vibes of the place seem to just fit him.
“The elevator is a little bit tight I must warn you.” Charles says as the doors open and Christ.
Tight is a bit of an overstatement.
There was enough room or two people but only just. Max finds himself shuffling close to Charles, almost sucking in to avoid accidentally crowding the man.
The doors close and for a brief moment, it is quiet.
Tension of the close quarters building heavy between them. Charles casts his eyes over to Max, unabashedly dragging over his form. Max does his best to look everywhere but at Charles, finding the exercise to be pointless as the mirrored walls just reflect what he is avoiding.
Max barely shuffles, he barely breathes. Charles does the same, as if trying to distract from the elephant in the space that is this moment.
Then, softly at first - hidden behind a palm of courtesy - then cascading louder, Charles starts laughing. Max’s eyebrows raise in question, taking in Charles’s form as his shoulders shake from stifled laughter.
“I’m sorry!” Charles wheezes out between giggles.
“It’s just- I was so nervous about this date and now we’re in the elevator to my apartment and you are dripping on my shoes.”
Max looks down at himself, only now aware of the ludicrous visage they present. Charles’s curls frizzy and askew, Max squeaking in his shoes every time he takes a step.
And it is ridiculous, so Max laughs as well.
To think, the two of them. Two racing champions, crammed into a tiny elevator, soaking wet on what is supposed to be a date.
It seems almost apt, Max stops laughing for a second as a realization hits him.
“At least I’m not covered in mud this time.” Max says, a sly smile aimed at Charles as memories dart through the air between them. It’s almost like static that holds in the air around them, air warm and dense in a way that promises something.
Occasionally on warm nights, Max can recall seeing lightning arch across the clouds that hung in the Monaco harbor. Silent and bright and awe inducing. Heat lightning, he heard it called. Electricity sparking within the thick tension beckoned by a summer storm.
In the temporary ecosystem they had formed in this elevator, Max swears he can feel the static of that lightning arching over their heads.
Then the elevator dings, and the doors open, and the storm that they had formed blows right away.
Charles is blushing slightly, lips slightly red and shiny as he exits the elevator with a breath. Max finds himself wishing the moment had lasted a second longer, wishing that he could regain that contact for a second, when he is brought out of his thoughts by a hand in his, pulling at him slightly.
“My apartment is just down here.” Charles says, leading Max down the hallway as he approaches the door. Max pays no attention to the surroundings though, too focused on how comfortably Charles’s hand slots into his.
Charles guides him easily, gently maneuvering his keys into his hands as he unlocks the front door.
Before Max can even look around the place, he is distracted by the sound of paws on hardwood and the immediate strange sensation on a tongue lapping at his ankles.
He jolts at the feeling, releasing Charles’s hand as the same moment he leans down to wrangle the offending beast.
“Leo! That is not how we treat guests!” Charles admonishes, ruffling the dog’s ears with a slight pout to his face as Leo wines slightly in return, wiggling as if trying to get out of Charles’s grasp to inspect the new face that has entered the apartment.
“Sorry he just gets so hyper whenever we have guests.” Charles says, putting the dog back on the ground. Max, now more prepared for the onslaught, crouches down and lets Leo waddle his way over.
“Its fine. He’s cute.” Max says, sparing a glance up to Charles. “Just like his dad.”
Charles turns bright red at the complement, much to Max’s pleasure.
Max smiles, testing out the game they’ve been playing.
“I uh—my- my room is down the hall that way if you would please go shower and change. I will just- I will start breakfast.” Charles stutters out as Max stands, holding Leo gently in his arms as Charles turns to head towards the kitchen, muttering to himself, “Yes breakfast. That is what I will do fucking imbécile-“
Charles trails off, leaving Max in the foyer of this apartment, giggling at Charles as he goes.
Its here that Max takes a second to breathe, to collect himself from everything that has happened this morning.
The day had started so brashly, both of them falling clumsily into their standard interaction. The ease on conversation between them muted only by the thick tension of whatever was building between them. It should be awkward, Max should feel awkward, and yet…
Max spares a glance around the room, looking at the piano stashed into the corner by the windows, cluttered by helmets and trophies. He thinks of Charles’s flirtations earlier, the ease and eagerness of how Charles invited him into his home.
Max isn’t always the best at flirting, but he can see an invitation for competition here, something sly and devilish.
Distantly, he can hear Charles bustling around the kitchen as he makes his move to the bathroom, and a plan ignites into motion.
Game on.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Charles takes a second to breathe the moment he enters the kitchen. So far, this date had been by most standards disastrous, but Charles doesn’t find himself caring much. Call it weird or strange, but Charles finds himself appreciating that things turned out the way they did.
The rain caused them to skip any awkward fumbling they might have exchanged in the coffee shop, and it led them to be here now, holed up in Charles’s apartment enjoying a quiet morning.
Next to himself and his brothers and maybe Pierre, Max is the person Charles knows best in this world. So, to see him laughing so freely, to be so comfortable in this space, in his space—It brings a warm feeling to Charles’s chest. A warm feeling that contrasts so violently from the warmth in his cheeks from earlier.
Charles thought he could handle this, play the suave romantic as he has always done on previous dates, but nothing could prepare him for Max dealing his own cards back to him. This was something new, something energetic. Charles was no stranger to dating, of course, but it felt different to play this rally with someone that knew him so well, someone who knows exactly how to make him blush.
There was a tension there, a build between their push and pull, that felt almost like a competition. One complement or subtle gesture eking out over each other. Each motion in the game catching a tow from the other and racing past.
Charles shakes his head with a smile and opens the freezer to start preparing breakfast. The two plain waffles seem to glare at him as he pulls them out to cook, almost daring him to do something.
The call and response game they were playing is still on Charles thinks as he hears the shower running. With a jovial grin he reaches into the refrigerator to grab more ingredients, blueberries and raspberries. And, well fuck it—their trainers aren’t here and its summer break any way-- Charles pulls out some chocolate chips and some whipped cream.
He is going to make these waffles spectacular.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Charles takes his time diligently designing his breakfast plates, only taking brief pauses to heat up some leftover sausages and to start brewing some coffee.
(He gives one sausage link to Leo, which he parades around the kitchen proudly.)
At the same time, Max also puts his plot into play. Entering into the Charles’s closet is a bit of a nightmare. Clothes are strewn everywhere as if someone was rummaging through them. Max does nothing to hide the small level of disgust on his face as he pulls through heaps and heaps of Ferrari branded clothing on the hunt for something specific.
Drivers are, to some degree, self-obsessed and possessive creatures. You have to be to make it in this sport. You must yearn for the glory of the trophy, to see your name on the top of the pile. Max knows this about Charles as well as he knows it about himself.
It is this instinct that drives him to smile as he pulls out a pair of sweatpants and catches himself in the mirror as he puts them on, hastily throwing on a plain white shirt as well. In for a penny in for a pound he thinks as he shuffles out the door and into the kitchen, the bright red lettering of LECLERC up the side of the pants catching his eye with each step.
Charles doesn’t even notice him at first, to busy arranging the plates on the small space of the kitchen island. Max takes a moment to lean against the doorway and just watch him as his brow furrows in concentration.
Charles is beautiful here is profile, illuminated only by the warm lights of the kitchen. The soft rain against the window dulls the scene in a since, bringing soul and resolute focus to the man standing in the kitchen, curls framing his face sweetly as the light cuts down the dramatic line of his jaw.
In the time of his watching, Leo trots over, drawing max’s attention down to him as he flops down on to his side to expose his belly, clearly expecting pets. Max obliges.
“Hello Leo. Enjoying breakfast without us are we?” Max says while petting the dog, noting the bits of sausage stuck still in the dog’s teeth.
“He was being winey, so I gave him a sausage.” Charles says moving to grab the plates and turning back to Max “Our food is ready if you would like to—”
Charles pauses midsentence, causing Max to look up from where he is petting Leo. Their gazes don’t meet though, as Charles has his focus set fully on the name—his name—pulling across Max’s thigh as he stands to look at Charles.
Max was taller than Charles and built a bit more solidly in opposition to Charles’s lithe form. It would make since that his clothes would fit a bit differently on Max, but Charles has no excuse for the way both seeing his name and getting full permission to view Max is affecting him.
The fire on his cheeks is unmistakable, and Charles knows that Max knows how he is impacting him by the way a smile plays in his eyes.
“So is breakfast ready?” Max asks, a playful lilt to his tone. It jogs Charles back to the land of the living.
“You are wearing my pants.”
Max rolls his eyes in a well duh expression before retorting back “I liked the way they looked.”
There is a thick pause before Max speaks again.
“They are really nice I think I might just keep them.” Charles puts the plates back down on the counter, heat rising up the back of his neck.
Fuck it in for a penny in for a pound.
Charles crosses the room in two long steps, ending up within breathing room of Max. Charles takes a little pleasure in the way he can feel Max’s breath hitch as he crowds him against to wall and asks, “Can I Kiss you?”
And the room freezes, rain echoing softly against the window as dark framed green eyes stare up into flustered blue ones. It’s Max’s turn to go bright red as his voice fails him, so he just nods emphatically.
Charles smiles, reaching up and pulling Max in by the collar of his shirt-- Charles's shirt-- and kissing him.
Now, Max had never put much thought into what it would be like to kiss Charles, always killing that thought if it ever had the strength to climb up, but if max had ever allowed himself to think about it, he knows he couldn’t have ever come close to this.
Charles lips are warm and soft against him. The kiss having a bit of grit to it as Charles pushes him against the wall, but not ever coming off as something forceful or lusty. Its passionate and sweet and over all too soon as Charles pulls away. Max, almost embarrassingly, finds himself chasing after it for a moment before he comes back to himself.
Max had never understood the term being kissed stupid before, but here in this kitchen with the light filtering so softly and the smell of coffee hanging heavy in the air, max feels like he would never think another thought past this again.
And whatever visage crosses Max’s face must be rather inane, because it has Charles bubbling up into small giggles again as he grabs the food once more.
“Come on. The food is getting cold.” He says as if he didn’t just rock Max’s world completely. He can’t do much more than follow Charles as he leads the way to a small dining room adjacent to the kitchen. Charles watches with a smile as max tries to compose himself in the space, taking a small sip of his coffee.
Game point: Charles 1 Max 0
They start to eat their meal, Charles’s hard work not going unappreciated as Max makes sure to loudly announce how good it is as they eventually settle into a quieter morning. Charles can sense though that Max is plotting something. The push and pull of their flirtations felt like it had culminated in the kiss, but somehow Charles feels like the ball is still in Max’s court somehow. He’s just waiting for the shoe to drop.
And it does, right as Charles is about to take a bite of his waffle.
“You know its still storming rather hard outside, forecast says it will probably last till this evening.” Max starts. Charles hums in acknowledgement, continuing to eat.
“I might just have to stay the afternoon, with the weather being so bad. Might even need to stay the evening?” Max delivers the first part with ease, but there is a lilt of hesitation at the end that is so vulnerable it has Charles melting slightly.
Ok Charles 1 Max 1.
“Oh yes of course. You shouldn’t be going out in a storm like this. Id be happy for you to stay here until it clears up.” Charles replies, trying hard to hide his blush and play it off as cool, taking another sip off his coffee.
“And maybe a bit after?” Max smiles over his cup.
“And maybe a bit after.” Charles smiles back.
-=-=-=-=-=-
Its 10 am on a sunny Friday in Monaco when Lewis Hamilton opens his door with the intent on going for a run.
Instead, outside his doorstep he finds three bottles of wine with a note attached.
Lewis wastes no time picking up the bottles-- some rather nice Belgium Riesling—and carting them to the kitchen where he puts them away and opens up the note.
Its simple and concise in its message.
Thanks for letting me talk about it. I think we figured it out.
-MV
“Those fucking idiots.”
Lewis rolls his eyes, a smile dancing on his lips as he gently folds the note and goes about his day.
Notes:
xoxoxo
i swear i was possessed for the last 1k words as suddenly i, an ace lesbian who has never been on a date, had to write a date...
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Max wakes up to warm light shining across the room, curled up in warm sheets, next to a warm body in a room that is certainly not his.
There is a brief second of confusion at his current standings, until the memories of the day prior wash over him as a head of brown curls shuffles gently against his jaw line. He can faintly feel Charles’s breath against his collarbone as he takes stock of their intertwined legs and the arm strewn across his chest.
There is a second as he looks down where he is tempted to hold his breath. Tempted to do anything to keep this moment as still and frozen in time. But then, Charles breathes out deeply, shuffling his body to stretch out his back in these early hours.
Charles pulls himself up, arms coming up to fold across Max’s chest and hands resting gently under his own jaw as green eyes rise to meet oceanic blues.
And what a sight it is. Charles curls are pushed up to one side, falling clumsily into his face with the lack of usual styling product. His cheeks are rosy in a way that could be from warmth or flirtation alike. A small amount of stubble is coming in along his jaw. Everything about this moment is so soft that Max doesn’t fight the urge that brings him to run a hand across his jawline.
Max smiles slightly at how Charles leans into the touch, head coming to rest lopsidedly against Max’s palm, thumb running in circles across the plane of his cheek.
“Good morning” Charles says with the rasp of early morning. Max just sighs contentedly in response. Charles takes the moment to stretch up to Max, placing a small kiss against the junction between his ear and neck.
“Mon Beau” another kiss, this time on the jaw.
“Mon Ange” a third kiss, to the side of Max’s nose.
Max giggles. “Charles, Schatje, please-“ Max says between laughs. He can’t even tell what he is asking for at this point, but Charles just smiles and leans down to kiss Max on the lips.
“Mon Amore”
There is silence for a moment after that, the two of them just sat together in the peace of the morning, curled up in each other’s arms. And it feels almost like a cliché to Max, how they slot together so perfectly.
Laying here with Charles feels so right. Like champagne on a podium, Rain in Montreal.
They lay there for minutes, stalling the entrance of the outside world into the little bubble they had formed. But the moment must come to a close as the buzzing of Charles phone draws him off Max with a dramatic sigh. Max busies himself with drawing patterns with his fingers across the now exposed skin of Charles’s back.
Deltoid, Trapezius, Latissimus Dorsi. Then back up again.
“Bonjour, Maman.” Charles answers, running a hand down his face as he tries to wake up some more. Max didn’t speak much French, but over his time in Monte Carlo he had developed a working knowledge of spoken French. So he leans in and listens.
god help him, he is curious.
“Yes things are fine.” Charles responds. One of Max’s hands finds its way into Charles’s hair, tugging at the curls at the base of his neck. Charles bites back what sounds like a moan.
“No Maman, its nothing.” Charles glares at Max who just smiles back. Oh- this was an interesting development. “Tell me again why you are calling?”
Max pulls his fingers back, walking his fingers up and down the back of Charles neck, pulling in close. “No Maman. I don’t have any plans for lunch today, I’d love to come over.”
Max takes his moment, leaning in to place kisses along his spine. Max takes great delight in the goose bumps that rise up in his wake. Charles’s shoulders rise to pinch Max in, head swiveling to fix Max with a glare that burns. Charles has a rather cute proud smile that crops up on his face when Max concedes from his kissing.
“Actually Maman, could I bring a friend to lunch today?” Charles says as he flips over to look at Max, pulling his free hand to scratch at Max’s hair. Max just smiles at him, leaning into his soft ministrations. There is a brief pause to the motion as Charles tenses up at something his mom says back. Max brings up a hand to rest on his bicep. Reassurance.
“No Maman, not a girlfriend.” A pause “A boyfriend, actually.”
Boyfriend.
Max works hard to not reveal he is eavesdropping, so he hides his blushing face against Charles’s chest. But even from here Max can hear the joyful cooing of Charles’s mother over the line. Inch by inch, second by second, Charles’s form relaxes.
“Yes Maman. I’ll ask him now.” Charles’s hand comes back to rest on the nape of Max’s neck. “Yes Maman, I love you too. Ciao.”
Charles hangs up the phone, arm coming down to rest by his side as his other hand starts making small circles against his hairline.
“Was that your mom?” Max asks from where he is laying.
“Yeah. She wanted me over for lunch.” Max likes the way the bass in his voice rumbles in his chest against his cheek. “You’re welcome to come if you want.”
“As your boyfriend?” Max says, grinning as he turns to look up at Charles. Max takes greater joy in the look of flushed surprise that comes onto his face.
“Come on mon coeur-“ the word rolls heavy and accented off his tongue, Charles blushes even deeper, “I’ve lived here long enough to learn some things.”
“and that is—alright?” Charles asks, nerves creeping up in his voice. Max continues smiling.
“Yes, Charles. I would be happy to be your boyfriend.” Max says sitting up and punctuating the statement with a kiss.
Max then hops off the bed, pulling on the shirt he shed last night as well as shimmying his way into his pants. He choses to not comment on how he can feel Charles staring at him as he dresses. He then takes the moment to throw a shirt and a set of pants Charles direction. “Get dressed. I need to run some errands before we go to lunch.”
Charles is then stuttered into action, dressing quickly. Max does make sure to take one final long appreciative look at him before it is all draped over with a baggy t-shirt and jeans.
“Yes, of course that is fine. What all do we need to do?” The casual ‘we’ has something fluttering up in Max’s chest that he desperately tries to play cool.
“Well. I need to run by my place and check up on Jimmy and Sassy. Other than that, I just need to drop some bottles of wine off at Lewis’s apartment.” Charles’s eyebrow reaches a comical height under the curls he is trying to fix in the mirror.
“Why exactly are you delivering wine to Lewis’s house?” Charles asks as Max shuffles his phone and wallet into his pocket.
“It’s a very, very long story. I’ll tell you on the way over.”
-=-=-=-=-=-
Pascale prides herself on her family. Not a day goes by where she doesn’t take pride in her children, celebrating their achievements. She was overjoyed that even now that all her children are grown, they still take time to visit her. They take time to share in their success, keeping her in the loop of every promotion, every win, and every relationship.
Which is why now she is running around their home like a mad woman, trying to clean the place up to make a good impression on Charles’s new boyfriend.
She wouldn’t exactly call the news surprising necessarily; She always had her suspicions of course. She was a mother who paid attention to her sons. She was still proud of him though-- proud and excited.
From her position in the kitchen, she can hear two voices approaching. Two boys bickering loudly, a familiar sound in this home.
“Lorenzo! Arthur! The door is open! Come help me in the kitchen please!” She calls out smiling gently as the bickering stops and she receives a call of “Yes Maman!” in return.
Lorenzo pushes into the kitchen first, Pascale pulling up from her fixing and meeting him at the entrance. She slightly detests how she has to rise onto her toes to kiss his cheek, even with him leaning down to her.
“Salut Maman.” He says, settling a small bag of groceries onto the counter. Fresh flowers, some tomatoes, some basil.
“What’s the occasion?” Lorenzo asks as his eyes pass over the neat table setting in the dining room, Arthur passing into the room as he speaks.
“Arthur, put the flowers in the vase on the table would you dear?” Pascale asks as she sweeps around the room, pulling the ingredients out of the bag. She mouths a small thank you as he does so, turning back to Lorenzo.
“Charles is bringing a date over. I want to make a good impression.” She responds. Lorenzo mouths a small Oh as he moves to stand beside her, gently helping with the assembling of the food.
“So did he tell you anything about this new girlfriend?” Lorenzo asks. Pascale tuts slightly at him as he swipes a taste of the sauce she was making.
“Charles is bringing a boyfriend over. Do Not-“ Pascale points a wooden spoon threateningly in Lorenzo’s direction, her eyes also glowering at Arthur “Do not make him feel weird about it.”
Lorenzo puts his hands up in surrender and in the corner Arthur just smiles.
“Arthur-“ Pascale starts.
“Oh nothing, nothing Maman! I’m just happy those two finally figured it out.” He says.
“Which two?” Pascale starts at the same time the door creaks open, and two more sets of quietly chattering footfalls enter the apartment.
“We’re here Maman!” Charles calls out, entering into the kitchen hand in hand with his date behind him. One uncharacteristically nervous looking Max Verstappen.
Ah Pascale thinks to herself
who else?
-=-=-=-=-=-
“Max, you’ve met my mom and brothers before. You have no reason to be so nervous.” Charles reassures once again, moving one hand of the wheel to still Max’s hands where he is wringing them in his lap. Even with that outlet quelled, Max finds himself tapping on the back of the hand with his thumbs instead. Restless energy washing over him in waves.
“I know, this just feels like a big deal. I just, I don’t want to mess this up.” Max confesses, history lying heavy between them.
The hand on his squeezes tight. “You will not mess this up. Just be yourself and they will like you.”
“I’ve seen Arthur staring me down more than once in the paddock. And your mother is good with scissors! She could kill me easily if she wanted.” Max half jokes, small insecurities reaching out to the extremes.
Charles pulls to a parking spot cleanly, reaching across the center console to press a chaste kiss with the same ease.
“Max” the tone edges on teasing, joking about his worry. “It will all be ok. I’ll be there regardless.”
Max pushes a smile onto his face “Alright.”
The apartment they arrive to is quaint. A small and quiet thing with flowers decorating the crisp white exterior. Its humble in the way most childhood homes are, dusted and yellowed with memories and nostalgia. Max can hear Pascale’s voice mutedly, and what sounds like Arthur’s voice protesting something. He inhales a large gulp of air, swallowing down his nerves.
Charles’s hand clasps his tightly, eyes meeting in reassurance.
Max breathes out, nodding to Charles as they finally enter the apartment.
“We’re here Maman!” Charles calls out, dragging Max behind him who shies away at the attention called to them.
Almost immediately, Pascale is rushing across the room to pull Charles into a tight hug.
“Ah Maman I haven’t been gone that long!” Charles jokes as Pascale pulls away from the hug, pinching his cheek as she goes.
“Can’t a mother be excited to see her boy? And its not every day you bring a boy home Charles.” She says as her eyes flicker over to Max.
There were those nerves again. That thick tension of history that carries so heavily between him and Charles, now turned colder as he as Pascale make eye contact. Instinctually he feels himself bracing, having flashbacks to other interactions, other events where he had crashed out so dramatically. He grits his teeth and bears past it, extending his hand.
“Thank you so much for welcoming me into your home today, Mrs. Leclerc.” Max says, because despite what Daniel says Max does in fact have manners.
Pascale pushes his hand out of the way, and for one absolutely terrifying second Max feels as though he is going to be absolutely chewed up and spat out by this woman.
That doesn’t happen.
Instead, Max is pulled into a bone-crushing hug much like the one Charles was just subjected too.
Max can’t even find it in himself to hug back, so he does the next best thing and fixes Charles with a bug-eyed stare as he freezes up in her hold.
Charles, ever helpful, just smiles with an ‘I told you so’ gleam to his eyes.
Finally, Pascale releases him, and Max breathes again.
“Oh Max, you are always welcome here.” She says before she pulls him down and speaks lower, just so they can hear. “You make him happy, and for that I can’t thank you enough.”
Max smiles awkwardly, whispering back “He deserves it.”
There is a quiet understanding that passes between them as their eyes lock and Pascale moves back into the kitchen, readying the food to be moved to the table.
It leaves Max, Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo standing awkwardly together in silence.
“Is that Charles’s shirt?” Arthur asks loudly, breaking the silence of the moment.
“Arthur!” Charles exclaims as Max turns a shade of beetroot red.
The world tilts back onto its axis and keeps spinning.
Notes:
this one is kinda long so i hope the wait was ok. getting back in the grove of writing now after dealing with some personal tragidity.
its ok now, and all will be ok in the future. More updates coming
so, in the words of Pierre "CIAO"
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Max finds his way home late that afternoon, stomach full, cheeks sore from smiling, and arms full of leftovers. Charles, ever the gentleman, had walked him from the garage to the doors of the elevator, pulling him into one deep goodbye kiss that had Max temporarily fumbling with the plate in his hands. And then he was gone, the doors of the elevator closing out this spectacular date, both of them red in the face and smiling.
Max cannot recall when he last felt so content in his existence as he did now, feet light as he grabs his keys and unlocks his apartment.
“Where have you been?”
Its only years and years of reaction training that has Max keeping his hold on the plate as he jumps at the sound of Daniel’s voice. Max takes a beat to get his heart rate under control, muttering out a “Jesus Fucking Christ” as he turns to close the door and observe the room.
Never in his life has he regretted giving Daniel the spare key to his apartment as he does in the exact moment. Because in his kitchen stands the man himself, helping himself to a Red Bull from the refrigerator, Lando Norris standing alongside him, tossing an orange in his hands, and strangely enough, Oscar Piastri, who looks so out of place its almost comical.
Max, so thrown by this sudden interaction, says the only thing he can.
“What the fuck are you doing in here.” Max asks pointing at Oscar, who visibly wilts under the sudden attention.
“They quite literally dragged me here mate. I tried to stop them, but it was two verses one.” Oscar does look truly ashamed under his normal stoic demeanor, and Max can at the very least appreciate it before Daniel cuts in on Oscar’s explanation.
“Do not avoid my question, Max Verstappen! You tell me you’re going on a date and then you disappear for 30 hours? You have some explaining to do!”
“Yeah, you do!” Lando, ever the worlds greatest wingman. Max doesn’t know why he’s even friends with them.
“I Swear. I don’t even know why I’m friends with you.”
Max moves into the kitchen with a huff, depositing his leftovers in the refrigerator, and walking into the living room without sparing a glance to the others.
“I’m in a good mood though. So, I won’t kick you all out.” He looks pointedly at Daniel and Lando “Yet.”
Daniel and Lando take that as an invitation to make themselves comfortable. Both of them coming to either side of Max and sitting down on the couch. Lando lets his legs sprawl over the arm of the couch, body slouching heavily into the decorative pillows. Daniel kicks his feet up on to the coffee table, slumping back so his neck is supported by the back cushions.
Oscar, still clearly uncomfortable but having no obvious way out of the situation, sits ramrod straight in the adjacent loveseat.
“So-“ Daniel starts, looking at Max from the corner of his eye. Max, ever spiteful, rises to it, glaring playfully back.
“so what?” Max asks back, putting a cool façade. One that is immediately broken by Lando shoving an elbow into the meaty area between his ribs and hip.
“Tell us about this date that had you ignoring us for 30 hours. We want the details. Tell us how it was!” Lando says, removing his elbow from his jab as max moves to message the area. Max takes a second to reflect on it all, the awkwardness of the restaurant, the calm of the apartment, the warm feeling of Charles lips on his, the simple soft smile on Charles face as they woke up together in his bed. There is really only one thing he can say about it.
“It was lovely. Simply lovely” he says, ignoring how the heat rises in his cheeks as he recalls the memories.
Next to him, he can practically hear Lando’s eyes roll as he looks to Oscar, who just shrugs in a what do you want from me way.
“How typical of you. Now give us some details please.” Lando sighs out, exasperated tone to his voice accompanying the motion of his hands.
“I’m not one to kiss and tell, Lando.” Max counters. He realizes a bit too late that he has cast a hook that Daniel grasps onto with immediacy.
“So there was a kiss?” Daniel butts in, cheshire grin rising on his face as Max goes red from embarrassment. And Max has never been too good at lying, especially not to his friends. And on top of that, this is the first time he’s really been able to truly talk about any real relationship with his friends. He hadn’t known how he had yearned for this type of normalcy until he had gained it.
“There was multiple.” Max says with a coy smile, enjoying how all the boys piled into his apartment react to it.
“Multiple!” Daniel exclaims, while Lando’s jaw just drops, and Oscar leans in a bit, interest piqued.
“Yeah I mean- we did spend a whole day together. Quite a few kisses happened.” Max answers. There is a minor pause as the boys ingest this information, and just as Daniel is about to speak again, Max stands up.
“Ok I’m putting down some rules to this. Each of you can ask two questions. While you think, I’m grabbing a Red Bull.” And Max quickly escapes to the kitchen, avoiding any protests by Daniel and Lando.
Behind him, he can hear them discussing what to ask. Buzzing in the way the media staff does after qualifying. It brings a smile to his face, how invested they are. Growing up he had become so convinced that he would never make any true friends in this life, competition always strangling the blossoms that dared to bloom. But now, on a hot Friday evening, friends both new and old sat together, truly invested in something he had fully expected to be made a pariah of.
Life had a funny way of shaking out. Lifelong rivals fining love together, teammates becoming close as brothers, friends still made after nearly a decade of playing the lonely game. Max grabs his drink and enters the living room with just enough time to hear Daniel and Lando pleading with Oscar to ask some questions on their behalf.
“Alright. I hope you have your questions ready. Go ahead and ask them.” Max says as he plops down into his place on the couch, ready for the spectacle to unfold. It’s Daniel who rises to the challenge first.
“Ok, straight to the point. Did you sleep with him?” Max quite nearly chokes on his drink at the bluntness off it. Its not the typical Danny Ric style to just ask flat out, but Max supposes that these are the fruits of his own game, he might as well play ball.
“I mean, we slept together yes.” He replies watching their eyes go wide as he continues. “But we did not sleep together in that sense. It was raining, so he let me stay the night. Next question?”
Max turns to Lando, expecting him to go next but Dan cuts in.
“What happened to the outfit we planned out? I was really proud of it.” There is a small tint of hurt under his dramatized pout.
“Oh I wore that over to the coffee shop, but it got soaked in the rain. Charles offered some of his clothes for me to wear instead.”
“Wait. Pause.” Lando says, suddenly sitting up. “You went on a date with Charles? I mean I knew you liked him but when did you get the balls to ask him out?”
“Oh my. Dan didn’t tell you?” Max says, staring at Lando in bafflement.
“Lando it was pretty obvious. How did you miss that?” Oscar says, suddenly joining the conversation if not just to bully Lando a bit.
“Look I don’t know everything alright! And now I’ve just wasted one of my questions on something stupid.” Lando grumbles as he sits back down on the couch, arms crossed in a pout. A slightly fond smile finds its way onto Oscar’s face and is gone as quickly as it arrives.
“Yeah, you only have one question left now Lando. You should use it wisely.” Max says, just to get under Lando’s skin.
And to his credit, Lando doesn’t rise to the taunt, instead he takes a second and lets his brow scrunch up in concentration as he thinks about what to ask.
“Okay, Okay I got it. So you guys get together and confess and whatever and then you go to sleep together. That still leaves most of this morning unaccounted for. Where were you two this morning?” Lando asks, proud smile on his face.
“Charles invited me to eat lunch with his mother and brothers.” Max answers simply.
“You met the family on the first date? Isn’t that a bit fast?” Daniel jokingly asks.
“You already asked your two questions.” Max counters, enjoying how Daniel tries to splutter out a protest. Max smiles again, content with himself. “This idea was perfect. Now I don’t have to answer any more questions about my date, and I can kick you all out of my apartment.”
Lando and Dan start to grumble, but are cut off by Oscar suddenly cutting in. Max had honestly forgotten that he was involved in this game he had proposed.
“I have two questions.” Oscar says, raising his hand meekly like a student in school. The entire situation is so unexpected that Max choses to indulge it, nodding in a way to give Oscar the go ahead.
“Why did you deliver wine to Lewis’s apartment this morning?”
For the second time in this hour alone Max finds himself baffled by the existence of Oscar Piastri.
“How do you know about that?” Max asks, face showing visible confusion which is doubled by Daniel and Lando looking confused at the both of them.
“I know things.” Terrifying “Answer the question.”
“it’s a long story. I got wine drunk at his place after Monaco and vented about my crush. I thought I should pay him back for dealing with me. Again, how the fuck do you know about that?” Max asks. Oscar just shrugs, his face void of any information. It rattles Max slightly. Lando seems to notice this, leaning in to whisper.
“He’s just like this. Its best to not question it.” Which makes Max even more confused by it all. He doesn’t have much time to stew in those thoughts though as Oscar goes to ask another question.
“If you and Charles are dating, can I claim Zandvoort as a home race?”
“What the fuck?” Max looks to Daniel and Lando in explanation, but Daniel is generally no help to him, and Lando seems to understand what the hell Oscar is asking by the way he nods in solidarity.
“I’m going to need some explanation?” Max settles on asking, seeing as he doesn’t seem to be getting any help otherwise.
“Well, Charles adopted me for the Monaco race, and if you are his boyfriend that kind of makes you my stepdad in this weird family tree. So can Zandvoort be my home race now?” Oscar explains as if any of the words he said made any sense at all. Max’s head is starting to hurt by the sheer enigma he is being confronted with.
“No? I don’t think so?” Max settles with. Oscar just shrugs again.
“Worth trying. I guess that means the game is over now?” Oscar says, and Max sighs in deep relief.
“Yes, it does. Thank god.” He says settling into the couch. There is a long gap of silence in the room as the nerves and energy settle. Max eventually caves to it, seeing as none of them seem to be revving to leave his apartment any time soon.
“Do you guys want to play Mario Kart or something?”
-=-=-=-=-=-
Late that evening, Max is finally settling in to bed when his phone pings with a text message, banner on his lock screen showing it to be from Charles. Max opens it with a smile.
Notes:
i was never one to believe in the AO3 writers curse, but i fear it has come upon me.
please ignore any spelling errors or typos, i wrote this half blind because i cut my eye open with a spoon on accident (A SPOON).
regardless, we're back to the silly energy as a way to cope with my grief over McLaren's strategy calls. Happy reading!!!!!! [the angst is quick approaching]
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