Work Text:
The last bell of the day rang, releasing a flood of tiny voices and restless feet. Children scrambled for their backpacks, shoving papers and crayons into folders, each one desperate to be first at the door when their parents appeared.
Charles Leclerc moved among them with calm efficiency, tying laces, buttoning jackets, answering a chorus of questions with his usual warmth. His classroom was alive with the buzz of little hands and endless chatter, but beneath the chaos, there was comfort. This was his world.
When the last stragglers had collected their belongings, Charles bent to pick up a forgotten glue stick just as a small voice piped up:
“Mr. Charles! Look what I made!”
Liam Verstappen barreled toward him, clutching a paper in his paint-stained fingers. His curls were a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes alight with excitement.
Charles crouched. “Let me see, mon chou.”
The paper was covered in thick red scribbles, four wheels too large for the car’s body, puffs of smoke trailing behind. It was wild, messy, but somehow purposeful.
“It’s Daddy’s car!” Liam announced proudly.
Charles chuckled. “So fast! Did you add the smoke because it’s going zoooooom?”
“Zoooom!” Liam spun in a circle, laughing.
The classroom door creaked open. Charles didn’t need to look to know who it was; he felt it in the way the air shifted.
Max Verstappen stepped inside.
He was a wall of quiet intensity, broad shoulders, sharp lines, his expression unreadable. He scanned the classroom as if searching for hidden dangers before his eyes landed on Liam—and melted.
“Daddy!” Liam launched himself into his arms.
Max bent smoothly, catching him with a strength that looked both natural and practiced. “Good day?”
“I drawed your car!” Liam shoved the paper into his face.
Max’s lips curved faintly. “Better than the real one.”
Charles’s chest tightened at the rare softness in Max’s voice.
But then, Liam blurted: “Daddy, can we ask Mr. Charles to get ice cream with us?”
Charles blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, mon chou, I-”
Max stiffened. “Liam-”
“Please! Ice cream is better with friends!”
Charles chuckled nervously. “That’s very kind, but I still need to finish tidying up the classroom.”
Max’s eyes swept over the room, the paintbrushes soaking, the chairs half-stacked. His jaw ticked, then he surprised Charles by saying, “We can wait.”
“You don’t have to-”
But Max was already lowering Liam into a chair. The boy happily grabbed crayons, and Max leaned against the wall, scrolling his phone like waiting in a kindergarten classroom was the most natural thing in the world.
Charles swallowed a laugh. The great Max Verstappen, waiting for ice cream.
He was stacking drawings into neat piles when Liam ran back in, Max following just behind with his ever-present calm-but-tired expression.
“All done?” Max asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Charles smiled up at him, a little sheepishly. “Almost. I like to make sure every masterpiece goes into the right cubby. The parents expect their fridge decorations, no?”
Liam giggled. “My fridge is full of my drawings!”
“Good,” Charles said, crouching to his level. “Then you’ll need to make even more.”
Max shook his head fondly. “I don’t know where we’re supposed to put them anymore.”
Charles bit back a smile at the picture that painted Max’s sleek, minimal apartment slowly overtaken by finger paintings and glitter glue. Something about it felt soft, grounding.
“Well,” Charles said, dusting his hands off. “That’s me done for the day. I heard there was a plan to get ice cream?”
Liam practically bounced. “Yes! Daddy said we could go! And you have to come too, Mr. Charles.”
Max’s mouth quirked. “Apparently, that’s non negotiable.”
“Then I’d better come along,” Charles teased, grabbing his jacket. “Can’t let my favorite student down.”
—
The ice cream shop was one of those cozy little corner places, the kind with pastel walls, chalkboard menus, and tiny tables crammed into every available space. The air smelled of sugar and waffle cones.
Liam darted straight to the glass counter, nose pressed to it as he surveyed the rainbow of flavors. “Daddy, can I try pistachio? And strawberry? And maybe bubblegum?”
Max arched a brow. “You’re not getting three scoops, Liam.”
Charles leaned down conspiratorially. “What if we share? I’ll get strawberry, you can have a bite.”
Liam’s eyes went wide, and he nodded solemnly, like Charles had just offered him the keys to the kingdom.
Max watched the exchange quietly, something unreadable in his gaze. When Charles stood again, he caught Max’s eyes lingering on him, and for a moment, the noise of the shop seemed to fade.
“You’re good with him,” Max said simply.
Charles flushed, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “It’s… kind of my job.”
“Not like that,” Max replied, voice softer now. “You actually listen to him. Most people… don’t.”
The words hung between them, heavier than Charles expected. He wanted to ask, don’t what? Don’t listen to Liam? Don’t listen to you? But Liam was already tugging at his sleeve, demanding his opinion on sprinkles.
They ended up with a small tower of cones: chocolate chip for Max, strawberry for Charles, pistachio with rainbow sprinkles for Liam. They squeezed into a booth by the window, Liam perched between them.
Charles couldn’t stop smiling at the way Liam’s face lit up with every bite. “Careful, you’ll end up with a brain freeze,” he warned.
“What’s that?” Liam asked, eyes wide.
“It’s when you eat ice cream too fast and your head hurts,” Charles explained.
Max smirked. “A very scientific definition.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “I can draw him a diagram if you prefer.”
“Please don’t,” Max said dryly, but there was a warmth in his eyes that undercut the words.
Halfway through his cone, Liam turned to Charles and offered him a big spoonful of pistachio. “Try some!”
Charles blinked in surprise. “Oh, thank you.” He tasted it, making an exaggerated thoughtful face. “Mmm. Delicious. You have excellent taste.”
Liam giggled proudly. “See, Daddy? Mr. Charles likes it too.”
Max shook his head but said nothing, though Charles caught the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
For a few minutes, the three of them sat in companionable silence, the kind that felt oddly natural despite how new this all was. Charles found himself watching Max out of the corner of his eye: the way his shoulders eased when Liam laughed, the rare softness in his expression when he wasn’t on guard.
And then Max looked up, catching him staring.
Charles nearly dropped his cone, fumbling for a distraction. “Uh so, do you come here often?”
Max’s eyebrow arched. “Did you just use a pickup line on me?”
Heat flooded Charles’s cheeks. “No! I- I was just-”
Max’s laugh was low, surprising. “Relax. It’s fine. And yes, we come here too often.”
Liam, oblivious to the tension, piped up. “That means you can come with us more, Mr. Charles!”
Charles’s heart stuttered, and when he glanced at Max, the man was already looking at him, unreadable but intense.
He smiled faintly, trying to play it off. “Well, I do like ice cream.”
–
The next afternoon, Charles sat across from Max in the tiny chairs of the classroom, a thick folder of Liam’s work between them. Liam was curled in the reading nook, building a tower of blocks, leaving them in a rare pocket of privacy.
“Liam is bright,” Charles began, spreading out drawings. “Creative, curious. But sometimes he hesitates. It’s like he’s afraid to make mistakes.”
Max immediately bristled. “He’s just shy.”
“Perhaps,” Charles said gently. “But I think he’s trying too hard to be perfect. For you.”
Max’s shoulders stiffened, eyes narrowing. “He doesn’t need to be perfect.”
“But he thinks he does,” Charles pressed, his tone careful but firm. “Children watch us more than they listen. And he watches you, Max. Every move you make. You’re his example of what it means to succeed, to be strong. Do you ever show him that it’s okay to fail?”
Max’s jaw locked. “I can’t” He broke off, shaking his head. “I can’t afford mistakes. Not when it’s just me.”
Charles’s heart clenched. He reached across the desk, his fingers brushing Max’s knuckles. “You don’t have to be perfect either. He doesn’t need a hero. He needs a dad who lets him be five.”
Silence stretched between them. Max’s throat worked, his hands curling into fists. He looked away, blinking hard.
Finally, his voice cracked low. “I just… I don’t want him to think I’ve failed him.”
Charles’s voice softened further. “Max, you haven’t failed him. You’re here. Every day. That matters more than perfection.”
For the first time, Max looked at him not like a teacher, not like a stranger, but like someone who might understand.
And Charles did. More than he could admit.
---
Friday brought thunder and chaos. The children were restless, painting messily as the storm rattled the windows.
Liam spilled blue paint across his drawing. He froze, eyes wide, lip trembling. “I ruined it!”
“It’s okay, mon chou.” Charles began.
But Liam’s panic erupted. He burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably.
When Max arrived, he stopped cold at the sight his son curled in the corner, crying. His face went pale, his body rigid. He looked at Charles, helpless, lost.
Charles gathered Liam gently into his arms, rocking him. “Shhh, accidents happen. It’s only paint. You’re not ruined. You’re wonderful, even messy.”
Liam clung to his shirt, hiccupping until the sobs subsided.
When Charles finally looked up, Max was staring at them both, something raw and broken in his eyes.
Later, in the hallway, Max spoke quietly. “You’re good with him.”
Charles smiled faintly. “He just needs patience. We all do.”
Max’s voice was rough. “I’ve been doing this alone so long, I don’t… I don’t know how to let anyone else in.”
Charles stepped closer. “Maybe you don’t have to know. Maybe you just let it happen.”
Their eyes met, holding steady. Max didn’t look away this time.
—
The amusement park smelled of popcorn and fried dough, laughter and shrieks of excitement carrying through the air as families and groups of friends bustled past. The Ferris wheel turned lazily in the distance, colorful lights twinkling even though it was barely evening yet.
Liam was already pulling at both their hands. “Daddy! Mr. Charles! Can we go to the carousel first? Please, please, please!”
Charles laughed, letting himself be tugged along. “How can we say no to that face?”
Max glanced at him, lips twitching. “You can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
They rode the carousel, Charles and Liam sharing a painted white horse while Max stayed just behind them, one hand steadying Liam from the other side. Liam’s laughter rang out above the music, and Charles found himself looking at Max over the boy’s shoulder. Their eyes caught, just for a second, and Charles felt it like a jolt straight to his chest. Max looked away first, but not before Charles saw the flicker of warmth there.
Next was the bumper cars. Max drove with sharp precision, laughing under his breath when Charles squealed as Liam crashed gleefully into them. “You drive like it’s a Grand Prix,” Charles accused, clutching the edge of the seat as Max executed a perfect swerve.
“It’s called skill,” Max shot back, smirking.
“You call it skill, I call it terrifying!” Charles was laughing too hard to sound convincing.
By the time they stumbled out, all three of them were breathless. Liam demanded cotton candy, and Charles was the one to buy it, crouching down to carefully spin the pink fluff around a paper stick. He handed it to Liam with a flourish.
“Your majesty’s royal dessert,” he teased.
“Thank you, Mr. Charles!” Liam beamed, immediately smearing sugar across his cheeks.
Max shook his head, but there was no disguising the fondness in his gaze. “You’re going to spoil him.”
Charles shrugged lightly. “That’s what teacher are for.”
The words slipped out before he could stop himself. Max’s expression shifted, something complicated crossing his features. Charles felt heat crawl up his neck, but before he could take it back, Liam was tugging at them again.
“Ferris wheel! Please!”
So they went.
The three of them squeezed into a cabin, the door clanking shut behind them as the wheel slowly lifted off the ground. Liam pressed his face to the glass, pointing at everything below, his excitement bubbling over.
Charles, however, was acutely aware of how close Max was in the small space, their shoulders brushing every time the cabin swayed. He could feel the warmth radiating off him, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way Max’s hand rested protectively on Liam’s knee.
“It’s beautiful,” Charles murmured, looking out over the park as the lights flickered on below them.
“Yeah,” Max said quietly. But when Charles turned his head, Max wasn’t looking at the view at all. He was looking at him.
Charles’s breath caught, and he had to glance away, heart hammering.
When the ride finally ended, Liam bounced out, demanding games. They spent the next hour winning him a ridiculous stuffed dragon at the ring toss, thanks entirely to Max’s laser focus. Liam insisted Charles carry it, declaring, “Now you have a dragon too, Mr. Charles!”
The sky had darkened by the time they wandered back toward the exit. Liam ran a little ahead, dragon tucked under his arm, calling out about the ice cream stand near the gates.
Charles lingered, matching his pace to Max’s. “He had fun,” he said softly.
Max glanced sideways. “Yeah. He hasn’t smiled that much in… a long time.”
Something in his tone made Charles’s chest ache. “You’re a good father, Max. He knows he’s loved. That matters most.”
Max stopped walking for a moment, staring at him like the words had struck deeper than they should have. “You make it sound so simple.”
Charles held his gaze. “Maybe it is.”
Before Max could reply, Liam shouted from up ahead. “Hurry up! Ice cream!”
He was already at the counter, waving them over.
Charles laughed and started forward, but Max’s hand brushed his arm, stopping him. Charles turned and suddenly Max was closer than he realized, his eyes burning into his. For once, the walls were down.
“I don’t…” Max’s voice faltered, rare vulnerability threading through. “I don’t do this. I don’t let people in. But with you…”
Charles’s throat tightened. “Then don’t think about it. Just… let it happen.”
And for once, Max did. He leaned in, tentative at first, but Charles met him halfway, lips soft and warm and certain. The kiss was brief, barely more than a brush, but it sent something fierce rushing through both of them.
When they pulled apart, Liam was still at the counter, too busy arguing over flavors to notice. Charles chuckled, breathless, and Max shook his head, a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
“Guess we should go before he eats the entire shop,” Max muttered.
Charles laughed, slipping into step beside him, heart still racing. And as they joined Liam at the counter, sticky fingers and all, Charles knew this was only the beginning.