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Chapter Text

Charles was a boy raised with manners, it was one of the few things that his parents were really strict about. They taught him many, many things, and he's grateful for every and each one.

One of those lessons was that it doesn't matter if he's ever feeling angry, frustrated or too happy to care, he always has to be nice, kind and collected. Or at least try to. Have a clear mind so that it's easier to make the right decision, one he will regret the least. At first it was difficult; karting with a bunch of teenagers full of hormones was bound to get you to lash off at someone at some point or another but he kept his cool, answered every question without losing his temper, said his 'please' and 'thank you' religiously in every kind of situation. Maybe he would throw some snark here and there, some sassy response, but he cares to deliver it with a smile and remained always polite.

His parents were proud.

It quickly became kind of a habit, every 'bad' emotion just switched off and he learnt that it was good. It wasn't right to get angry and be an asshole just because he felt like it, most of the time the person who he directed his state of mind to didn't even deserve it, be it because it was a reporter or his trainer. So yeah, it was one thing he was proud of himself too.

It all worked out in the end. At first he obviously didn't like it, no kid will happily be told how to act and what to say when he was upset. Then, once he got older, Charles realized what kind of weapon his parents gave him and that he had nurtured right in his hands, the power he held with a flash of his upturned lips. It was all worth it.

Once he got in Formula 1 his public demeanor was something that made him pleasant to be around. Which was great. It made him popular and that worked in his favor to be seen and approached by many people that could help him in his career. Having a great, talented driver was the goal for every team, having a talented end charismatic driver is the dream. With the way the sport is evolving being just good at driving a car is not gonna cut it, you have to have a strong fan base too, bring loyal and fruitful sponsors and in general be likable to make good media content. Publicity is essential.

When Charles signed for Ferrari, the top team, his dream team, Jules's team, he was so damn proud of himself. He was so happy he could cry and run until his lungs gave up and he threw up on the ground. He knew he could do it, he could feel it in his bones, he could taste it on his tongue every time he was behind a wheel. But it actually happening? Unbelievable.

He was sure he deserved to be a Ferrari driver, like he is sure Nutella belongs on bread, it just is. Even if he was so young and very inexperienced in comparison to his teammate and every other previous driver. He knew, he knows, he can bring the team back on the very first step of the podium where they once were and deserve to be, he can feel it. He's the only one on the grid at the moment to truly have the passion and absolute love that this team needs. And his confidence paid off because Ferrari took the risk to have him as a young driver, they put all of their hopes and dreams in him judging from the length of his contract. So yeah, he was very fucking proud and determined to make them, and him by extension, a champion. Multiple times too.

The first thing he did after they told him the news was call his mum who burst into tears immediately. She told him how happy she was, she told him how proud his father is of him, how Jules must be jumping from joy from wherever he was watching. And he thanked her for everything because this was the opportunity of a lifetime, it couldn't get better then this honestly. It's a huge step in his life. And he didn't forget to thank her for the way they raised him because La Scuderia is not just a racing team. Ferrari is history, it's an image of victory, a myth of the sport, a religion almost, they probably wouldn't have chosen him if they thought his temperament and behavior didn't fit in their high standard.

The seasons with Vettel as a teammate had gone by in a heartbeat and it still felt too damn long. Charles was still an experiment of sort, the team gave him a little taste of what he got into while he was still in the shadow of one of the legends of the motor sport. Seb had his eyes set on beating a multi-champion and having a street in Maranello bearing his name, Charles was just a little, annoying, fly. Sometimes more annoying than others. Charles was mostly okay with it, he absorbed every advice and every critique like a sponge, waiting impatiently for his time to shine. And that came when Seb went to Aston Martin.

"You really are one of the most talented drivers I've had the honor to race with, kid,” he said to Charles while hugging him tight “Don’t waste it.” Charles throat closed up and didn't get the chance to reply.

They didn't exactly declare after that he was the number one driver, and he is still okay with it to this day. He likes that he has to show everyone that he is number one regardless of given positions, it feels more deserving in a way. Does it hurt him when the team itself sabotage him of his victory over his teammate? Of course it does. But he shrugged it off, the team told him they will give him his chances and he just goes along with it. The sf-21 is not a championship winning car, it's not his battle yet, he can forgive every thing that is constantly thrown at him. And that's how Max Verstappen wins his first ever championship that year.

The first half of the season of 2022 was set to be Charles' season, everyone was saying it. Il Predestinato will be the new champion, The Ferrari Champion. He really believed it. How stupid of him. The car was amazing, it was fast and precise and everything checked out to have a chance in winning this year. At least at first.

When they took the first win in Bahrein, a 1-2 nonetheless, it all happened so fast, he was vibrating from excitement the entire time during the celebration and the interviews. Running full of ecstasy and joy to whoever called and cheered for them. That's what feels like to be on top. That's what he fight for all of his life. And he wants more. So much more.

After the race in Australia it all kind of began to fall down like a castle of cards, sometimes they don't crumble all together, instead they get stuck and pile up multiple times before they all fall to the ground at once. That's why the team's hopes were still high, Charles was confident he could still do it. He'd turn this championship around. He would manage to stack those cards again.

Then, Monaco happened. Charles, the same predestinato, the so called “prince of Monaco”, was completely let down by his own team. The one he loves so fucking much. After the engine failing him in Spain and now in Monaco, arguably one of the hardest races of the calendar, the strategists begin to fuck with him. His own home race. "A casa fa male," he said in the radio, disappointment rushing through him.

Monaco's victory was literally robbed from him, he felt ashamed really. Passing the checkered flag fourth after leading the race in Monaco, it is absurd. Even RedBull didn't see this stupid mistake coming.

He became the laughing joke of the paddock.

Rather, the entire team was viewed like literal clowns.

And Charles, no matter how many times they have let him down, he still can't bear this fact. That's his family. He has to defend them.

He was completely devastated all the same, this year in particular because he had a real chance for once, compared to the past years, and they blew it. Watching the tifosi still cheering for him, always there like he won, is not enough anymore.

But like the good boy he is, he makes excuses for the team, takes the blame when he can and moves on.

It finally blows in Silverstone. Of course.

"You should really watch that mouth, Charles," those words burn like venom.

Precisely when Mattia tells him to stay calm in the middle of the paddock. When the boss scolds his best driver over the countless mistakes the pit wall has done. Not Charles, the pit wall. He knows that if he was any other driver, that finger wouldn't have been pointed at him like he was a baby throwing one of his many tantrums. Charles knows Mattia does it because he's just Charles. And he knows Mattia knows.

Mattia Binotto. The entire Ferrari team lied to him. They told him the pits were closed and completely left him alone and threw away what could have been a double podium. And Mattia still had the face, le palle as Italians say, to wave that finger at him so easily.

Like he's a child.

Unacceptable.

People were coming up to him left and right telling him he was being played with, touching his shoulder for comfort, fucking Christian Horner felt sorry for him. Even Max wasn't there to rub it in, to make sure Charles felt like shit. Even fucking satan himself, Max Verstappen, understands how fucked up the situation really is. If that isn't saying something then he doesn't know what else could be said to make the situation worse.

Leclerc up until that point was the angel of the paddock. Loved and fawned over by almost every living thing that had interacted with him or never met him. The sweet and kind driver, always fair and never said anything wrong. Elegant, that's how they always described him. Because it happens on track to slip, it is a competitive and dangerous sport between men with a copious amount of testosterone. It's expected. Not from Charles though. Upset? Sure. Frustrated? Of course. Mad? Not a chance. He's pure, kindhearted, always courteous and elegant. Funny and charming when he needs to be. Just perfection. A pr dream. That's the image he spent his life to build.

Not to say Charles is not any of those things. He just tries really hard to make other people believe he is especially like that.

"Why was the race so bad today? What happened?"

"How did it feel when the pit crew made that call?"

After every single race these were the questions directed at him and, it hurts to say, but they finally got to him at last and he simply couldn't continue like he had up until now. It clearly seemed like they could fuck him up because he was good at the whole "forgive and forget" thing but when he showed his true emotions then he was the one to blame. He was the problem, the crew just made a little mistake and it happens, it'll get better. That's what the team say. They're human, they say, like Charles is not.

Charles didn't think so.

That night in Silverstone, Charles decided to spice things up a little bit. His reputation is solid enough to take it without damaging himself.

They're in Austria, a week after the whole fiasco in Britain. The paddock air is very tense which is understandable. When he arrives on track for the qualifying he religiously listens to all the updates on the car and the datas they gathered from the free practices and then just locks himself in his driver room, clearing him mind, up until it's time to get ready and get inside the car.

"Binotto told us you wouldn't have won in Silverstone, do you agree?"

"How do you feel, Charles?"

"Do you think it's all down to bad luck, awful car or maybe lack of talent? Mentality?”

“Are you not on the same level as Max and Lewis?”

"Are you going to win?"

He tries to avoid them, smiling apologetic to the cameras and reporters when he can. He doesn't feel like answering the same old questions, he just follows Andrea and puts his helmet on on autopilot. Routine.

"You will take what it is yours. Have patience," it's what tells him Andrea through gritted teeth and fierce eyes, making sure that no one is listening.

When Max takes the pole it really sucks, that millisecond costs him the first position but it's fine, he vaguely hugs Carlos, listens to Max talking. It's bittersweet. He likes listening to the other passionate talking, it helps calm him down for some very - slightly terrifying - strange reason. It became familiar over the many races they've done together. It’s those precious few minutes they are able to stand the other presence. And he's not going to lie and say that one day he doesn't hope Max slips and tells him something essential about the car, because he does. Very much. Max would never.

But it's nice, makes him feel understood because 'yes, that curb really is a launch pad, you should test it and see where you end up” and 'to keep the rear every time on that corner takes talent, no wonder you spun every time' or 'that wall has a imprint of the side of your car by now, do you like it that much?'. Yes, they're not kind but Charles can’t help but feel less alone, he's not the only one to think that then, Max -World Champion Max Verstappen- thinks so too! They could finish each other opinions of the track, they know that, but it's relaxing to hear the other talk and think exactly like you. Makes you feel less crazy in some way.

"Can't say I'm sorry Mr. Best-Qualifier, let's have a good and safe race tomorrow, yeah?" Jokes the RedBull driver after the mandatory photos while patting Charles on the back and giving a very brief squeeze on his waist. Charles rolls his eyes at how he underlines the word 'safe'.

"Yep, congratulations on the pole," says Charles touching his shoulder "I'll make sure you check your rear mirrors, don't say I didn't warn you," before going away gulping down his water.

Max is left with an expression that can only be described as having flashbacks from back when they battled in the British gp and Charles took his sweet revenge for what happened here in 2019. In short, he looks a tiny bit scared, which is always amusing to see instead of his usual expressionless face.

Charles can feel his smirk growing at the sight.

If he told his younger self that his rival was joking with him week in and week out or taking the circuit apart with him after every race he would laugh so hard he'd end up in a hospital for asphyxiation and then straight to psychiatry.

He loathed him when he was younger, hunting his dreams and his every thought. Charles learnt how to hide it. He can’t afford showing any weakness. Only funny comments and teases in interviews, maybe they dared to take revenge on track sometimes. Nothing too crazy. They were kids, it wasn't that serious. Charles tried hard but Max was just better than him sometimes, no matter how hard it is to admit. It was frustrating because Max was the little Dutch boy that more often then not would end the race right in front of him. Charles the eternal second. He become his nemesis.

They had never really exactly talked and even if they did, it wasn't memorable. The first thing that really stung for Charles was when Max got in Formula 1 long before him. He didn't even have a normal driving license, that's insane! It caught him so off guard, made him realize how much further the other was compared to him. How left behind he felt despite having the same experience. He still can't decide whether he despised him or admired him. They are the same age after all, only sixteen days apart, so when they gave him the opportunity and not Charles his heart cracked a little.

Was it deserved? Of course. Max is incredibly talented, it's undeniable. But why was he there and not him? Why wasn't Charles racing right along side? That's what they do, right?

The routine was always the same: go on track, find out that the other was there - as if they didn’t know beforehand already - grumble and whine until they got on the kart and race each other until they had rubber left.

But then one day Charles got on track and Max wasn’t there anymore.

Now when Charles sees Max take win after win like he could never have enough he's kind of happy for him. He's quickly becoming Charles personal image of victory. He's racing with a future legend and idol.

It still really hurts though.

A stinging pain right in his heart.

Would rather die than saying that to his face.

Now, they are alright. For the most part. For the part that counts. The past is pretty much forgotten or at least put on the sidelines, they drive for two very different teams but they are both clearly a step further than everyone else. That is enough to clear the air in their relationship if it even can be called that. It's all down to racing this time. Charles wouldn't say they can be described as friends, he doesn't even have the other driver number in his phone registered. They are just colleagues who love a good challenge and share the same burning passion and know every possible move the other could make. It feels like it's enough for now. Is he still irritating and would rather be anywhere else than be alone with him? For sure. Do their personality often clash outside of their duties? Absolutely.

Charles can't even remember how many times they've both been scolded during the drivers meeting for always going at each other throats, reporting every single mistake, even stupid and innocent ones just to get a reaction out of the other. The rest of the drivers' sighs are loud in the room. The FIA directors too, every time they are both called together to discuss an incident or whatever, they already all have a headache on the bickering that will soon come. It would be easier if they argued at each other but no, they always have a third party to include so that they could talk indirectly. Imagine how difficult it is to handle that level of pettiness and immaturity once in an environment where they are not alone. It’s exhausting.

"It's you two again," they breath out when they see them being escorted into their room. Guilt is the last thing painted on the drivers' face, that means it's going to be a loooong conversation.

"If it's about Leclerc then I don't want to hear it," they say once Max opens his mouth during a driver briefing. Max always feels slightly offended at that.

"Please Charles, not you too," they say if it's Charles to open his first instead.

These are just examples.

So yeah, they are not the favorite pair of the paddock.

(“Did you suck his dick or something? He said ‘please’ to you. Can’t handle them being impolite to you?”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, mate,” winks at him Charles, licking his bottom lip before walking away. Not sparing a second to much of his attention on him.

Max takes a deep breath in to control his temper.)

"What are your prediction for tomorrow's race? How's the car?" Is the first question after the qualifying.

"I think I have a good chance of winning the race, I was very close to Verstappen’s RedBull so I think it will be a good challenge," he answers lightly, vaguely hearing Carlos saying the same thing more or less across him. Obviously that is what is expected from them.

"What is the strategy after what happened in Silverstone?" She asks shoving the microphone in his face.

Charles snorts "The strategy is winning. I'm driving, the pit wall hopefully does its job and that's all. Thank you," spits Charles avoiding Silvia's glare and going straight to the team motor home. It was the last interview of today.

While they're walking, Mia is the one to break the silence "I don't think that's the answer we agreed on before, when Mattia hears about it..." she looks concerned, eyes big and puppy like, there's a hint of tiredness too, like she knows Charles is not going to listen to her anyway. And he's not, not this time.

"I didn't say anything wrong, did I?" He gives her an easy smile and a goodbye before retiring in his room. Her sigh is deafening.

Charles will handle the consequences alone. He appreciates her and her warnings but he's really tired of all the lying.

After changing into less smelly clothes, he takes his phone and begins scrolling thru the reports online and the comments on social media. It seems like his interview already got many fans talking.

He loves the support and he is happy that in their eyes he did the right thing in trying to be less of the puppet of Ferrari. It doesn't come as a surprise though, fans always ask him why he doesn't step up more, why doesn't he talk to his team, why doesn't he do that, why doesn't he do this... It's all valid but they don't get how actually big all of this is. Much bigger then Charles. He's just the pinnacle of an enormous team. The last link of an infinite chain. Every little 'misbehavior' he does is reflected on his team, he really can't do too much in public. He has his hands tied behind his back. He can wiggle around though and that's what Charles will do. For sure. He can't keep going like this for long.

He is still scrolling the instagram comments when Carlos comes in, he heard him entering his own room across from him just minutes before "Hey Charles, they're almost ready for the debrief," he stands up and greets him with a side hug "Congrats on third," says Charles rubbing his back.

Carlos shrugs it off with a smile sitting on the tiny bed "I saw Mia passing by talking with Silvia, they didn't look too happy, something happened? I think you did good, right?" He looks very confused, with his hair still everywhere from the helmet. Still magnificent for some reason.

"They were not happy probably because I didn't wrote poems and sonnets about how good of a team we are like every other time," he leans back against the wall and stare straight in front of him. He still doesn't regret it. And he knows Carlos thinks the same, they often spend their time just ranting about what's wrong with the Scuderia. It's boring to tell always good things and they always laugh about it. It's their way of loosing up and what they managed to bond with. Basically the one thing they have in common. One and only.

Carlos laughs understanding and shaking his head "The puppy is starting to bite or something?" Still laughing at Charles' frowning face he gets up and walks away.

The next day is race day, Charles could feel the energy inside him building up. He couldn't even hear Xavi explaining for the one hundred time what he already knew, he nodded every now and then but in his mind the only thought was "Overtake Max and win," over and over again.

When he passed the checkered flag and got on the podium he couldn't believe it. He fought so much with the car and whoever was in front. Gave his everything, corner after corner. He catapulted himself on his team from joy, hugged Max and Carlos tightly without thinking twice before finally lifting his hard earned trophy up in the sky.

"Nice race, Leclerc," congratulates again Max, his face shows he is more than a little disappointed in himself but they both know the fight is still far from over. It was a fun race all in all. Fair, for once. No tricks pulled out of thin air.

"You too, Verstappen," smiles Charles while walking back down from the podium, step after step. Adrenaline high can make you say all kind of things but it's still genuine, Charles' a driver, he enjoys racing. Hard racing.

But then Max sees that familiar glint in his eyes once the other suddenly turns around, the one that makes him feel in danger. All kind of alarms begin blaring full blast in Max’s mind. Charles steps closer, still clearly high on the win, it’s easy to describe: face flushed and sweaty, lips ready to stretch in a smile and pupils blown black. The Ferrari driver lifts one steady hand up to his jaw. Max half expects a punch - it doesn't happen. Charles' delicate fingers hold Max's face in place, firm. Max is stunned in place, doesn't even have the time to school his expression or move away.

Charles leans in, skin red and sweaty, dimples showing from the smirk on those pink lips that must taste of bitter champagne "And thank you for the gift, Maxy. Austria is always great, right?” he says, holding the trophy between them, happy; radiant even. Then Charles lets him go, walking away grinning.

Max feels his anger boiling hot.

The wall gets the worst of it.

Max is declared unapproachable by interviewers and Charles can’t help but feel proud.

Once again it was time for the interviews, this time Carlos and Lando were next to each other - they're still inseparable those two, they are just so in sync with one another - while Max and Checo are behind Charles.

"Congratulation on the win today, Charles! It was a great victory! How do you feel?" The journalist is clearly genuinely happy for him so that puts immediately a smile back on Charles' face.

"Well, I'm obviously very, very happy, it was a long battle and we had some problems during the race. But I fought ‘till the end and I came first so yeah, very happy and proud. Verstappen put on a good fight and so has Lewis, of course.”

"It must be good to be back on getting points after the not so good races until now, what do you think went different today?"

"I mean, there were obviously strategy problems, pace problems, engine problems...Even today, the throttle gave up on me in the final few laps so yeah, it was a very stressful race overall. It's good seeing smiles back on the faces of the tifosi and that I was able to finish the race. I hope the car will be much better next race,” he gives her a tight smile. He's doubtful of what he say - which should really never happen to a driver who has to rely on his car - but it's the truth, this season is so unstable.

"How did the team react? I bet they are celebrating still!"

Charles puts on a tight smile "Yeah, they are very excited and happy for the team,” flashes of the glares that were sent his way from certain people, the mean words, the single nod from Mattia, he ignores all that. Instead he focuses on the real smiles, the kisses and hugs he received from the genuine people who love him and look at him like he's a legend in the making.

"Thank you Charles, congratulations again!"

"Thank you."

And then in France he found himself in the wall "Non, non, non, non!" It's the only thing he can say while banging on the car "Putain, Charles!" He screams, he's so fucking angry. About the race, the car and himself because the first thing he does is blaming himself and it's embarrassing and awful. Makes him feel so weak. It's an automatic response when something goes terribly wrong and it's so unfair and so stupid.

"Charles, stay calm," he hears Xavi say over the radio. Distant and robotic but still sounding like a plead.

How can he ever be calm? Calm? He was leading the race! That was his win for sure and now it's gone. Calm? He's a racing driver, he's speeding past every known limit to chase win after win and they ask him to stay calm? Not be upset? That's ridiculous. Embarrassing even.

Once he's back on the paddock his fury has not subsided, the first to approach him, probably because he heard him loosing it over the radio, is Mattia.

And Charles, well... Mattia is the last person Charles honestly wants to see. Right this moment in particular. Charles is the first one to blame himself, always ready to throw himself in the center of the crossfire if it means defending the Ferrari team. But deep down, in the pits of his conscience, he knows that if there is one person to blame for it all then it is Binotto.

"Charles, it's okay, come on," he says gently, arm stretched out like he wants to hug him, like nothing really happened. As if he wants to be of some sort of comfort for his driver, caring like a father, as if Charles is his little pupil. Does he really expect Charles to believe his act? Does anyone at this point? It's not like he will get home with zero points once again. An useless race. He can't believe that they all don't get that. It makes him even more angry.

"No, it is not! I was first! I defended against Verstappen and then I was in the putain de wall! You think that's okay?" He shouts while taking off the balaclava and earphones for the radio. His face red and traced with lines from the tight helmet. A new rush of adrenaline crashing through his veins.

"Charles, stop. Everyone is hearing you, don't make a scene," Mattia tries to pull him away from the eyes of the crew who are all looking concerned. Mattia sends them a small smile. Hand heavy on his tense shoulders, eyes dark and menacing once they settle on his driver.

But Charles couldn't give a single fuck of Mattia's personal disappointment in him, he is so tired of feeling like he could do it just to have his victory snatched from his fingertips at the very last moment. The crew should see how angry he is, maybe then they'll understand how bad the situation is really. How much he's frustrated and cares about the race. How much he tries and they certainly do not.

He wishes he could show them even an ounce of his burning passion and desire to win he feels inside. All for this single team. Then maybe, maybe, they would work harder to make this car better.

"Connar-- You don't know how it feels, the car, your car, is-is a piece of bad metal. The pedal, maybe?— I don't know—something is fucking broken in that thing. I can't win like this, I can't," he wish he could just go home and not think about this race ever again.

He knows that the car is not progressing like he would have liked, on the contrary, it's just getting worse or even better said: not suited for him. "It kept understeering like crazy, I can't drive like that, Mattia. It's not even safe," he keeps going. He knows it's not his fault, but then...

"Maybe you are just not...capable of driving it, like Carlos does. He's doing a good race, one I should get back to if you are finished with your tantrum,” and Mattia must know that is not something he should have said. Not that he cares not to. And so, in spite of knowing it would be devastating for Charles to hear, he says it without a speck of regret in his voice anyway.

And Charles can't help himself from thinking that hearing Mattia, team principal of Scuderia Ferrari, say that phrase so easily, is enough to make Charles come to the conclusion that if he doesn't go away... then Charles will. It's final. As clear as a day in the summer of Monaco. Having a good race as a standard is simply not acceptable. This team can literally do everything they want to Charles but he will not stand and drive for a team that has no standards. Especially not if it's named Ferrari.

At least that's what he tells himself, doesn't know if he could ever go through with it.

It's not even true when you think about it.

Carlos can drive it, sure, but he can't deliver. He's constant, he has a car that suits him, but he doesn't aim for the big points. Carlos would be happy to finish every race nineteenth if it meant beating his teammate. Charles gives his soul to chase that podium, the first step of it, he isn't satisfied with just taking the car home safe and sound, he wants the cheers, the confetti, the champagne and the first trophy at bare minimum.

So yes, Charles maybe crashes more often than his teammate, which is still debatable, makes more mistakes than he would like but when he finds that something, that spark of putting it all together, he fucking delivers. Because that what it means driving to the limit. With an awful car under his ass, just a reminder.

Is he actually saying Charles is not good enough? To his face?

Charles’ eyes go wider then the whole sky, Mattia might have had as well punched him in the gut and it would have felt the same. Charles can't breathe. He feels like he is going to double over in seconds from the overwhelming rush of negative emotions clashing in his mind.

Binotto clears his throat, looks away in silence and then manages to speak again "We'll talk about it later, just... go change and try to relax a bit. Sei stato bravo, Charles," Mattia ignores the glare sent his way, because he has enough strength left to at least do that, and leaves him in front of his motorhome. Alone.

Charles has to start planning. And soon.

He stands there frozen a few seconds, feeling like the floor just crumbled beneath his feet, before a blur of navy enters his field of vision. His eyes instantly focus on the smirk stretching on the full lips of its owner, then he hears the reigning champion and winner of the race shout with snark in his voice, "Missed kissing walls, Leclerc?".

Charles shifts his vision to his eyes, ice blue and full of mischief and pride. An aura bigger than what Charles can only dream of at this point in time. Verstappen laughs at his own awful joke along with his crew, snickering like hyenas. Charles turns his back to him and it takes all of his hard earned willpower to not hurt someone.

(When Mattia finds Andrea he immediately stops him "Andrea, do you know what's wrong lately with Charles? He seems off, on the edge" the other just watches him not knowing how to respond "I don't know, I think he's just frustrated," he settles on.

"Well, you need to talk him, he can't say and do whatever he wants. Oh, and I know I should talk to Silvia about this but I think he listens to you better. I noticed that in the interviews he's starting to be a little self centered, yes? We are a team first and foremost, that's the message that should be passed on okay? Remind him, please," he sighs "His attitude is really becoming a problem, he's going to ruin everything continuing like this and I will take action." To Andrea it sounds like a threat.)

When it's finally interview time he sees Verstappen happy to be back on first position. Well, not that Verstappen ever looks happy with that annoying resting bitch face of his, but still, he's sending him smirks and amused looks like there’s no tomorrow meaning he's in an extremely good mood. The two Mercedes’ drivers also have fire in their eyes, ready to gain some points against the adversaries. Hungry and impatient.

"So Charles, everyone is curious about what happened, after the great victory in the Red Bull ring it's a surprise seeing you not finish the race. Something wrong with the car?"

"I think so, I still haven't really talked with the team but yeah. I lost the back—the rear?-" The journalist nods encouraging, Charles sends him a smile "-Of the car and went into the wall. I think something is still broken with the throttle also...Yeah, many thing we have to work on. I did what I could do, the engineers have to find out what is wrong."

"That means that the crew couldn't fix the car after the problem with the throttle in Austria? On the radio you sounded very angry, that was unusual to hear from you,” his eyes were daring to make him say something super bad, what a fucker.

Charles pulls his expression in his well practiced smile and shrugs "It means we clearly have work to do this week, thanks," he escapes just in time before the next question. That was gonna be a disastrous interview if he let his mouth run off.

He passes thru many drivers before Daniel stops him "Charles, I'm so sorry about the race," he says patting him on the shoulder.

Charles gives him a tight smile "Yeah, nothing I could do about it. Where did you finish?" He asks, he didn't really see the other standings he just saw Carlos' and the first three because he heard the celebrations. He honestly couldn't care.

"Not great, I was 15th, little Lando did better so at least the team is happy about that. I'm just the side bitch at this point,” how can he joke and put on a smile is just impossible to imagine, because unlike Charles', Daniel’s smile is genuine.

"That sucks, man, you still finished though. Congratulate Lando for me, I just wanna go to bed and be done."

Daniel laughs "Same, mate!" Side hugging him and letting him go quickly before someone tries to stop him again. How can someone put Danny aside?

Then Pierre is by his side. Holding him tight against his body, smiling and looking proud all the same, whispering encouragements into his ear, and Charles feels like he can finally breath again.

When Charles and Carlos can finally be free to go and take the plane back to Maranello, heads full of too many words of reprimands and disappointment and too few of real data, Charles spots Max waiting for his driver to pick him up.

"Hey, congratulations on the win," he says because he's not that petty, Max has always congratulated him so far this year, even when he himself acted just like Max before, so it's not fair seeing him and then ignoring him just because he's feeling down. He has good manners.

They can be civil most of the times.

Hearing his voice Max diverts his attention from his phone screen and gives them both a little smile "Thanks. What happened with you? I just saw you going straight off right into the wall," Max obviously only ever talks about racing with Charles, not that the Monegasque wants to talk about anything else with him to be honest. Still, it's peculiar, "It was pretty funny.”

"Car sucks, that's all,” answers Charles, not really in the mood today to let himself be provoked and engage in petty arguments. He’s just tired of it all.

"I think it's okay," interjects Carlos, his teammate rolls his eyes at him and shoves him away.

Max doesn’t spare Carlos one glance.

"You are making it too easy to win, Leclerc. It's getting boring,” Max shrugs, he's clearly very happy that everything is turning in his favor. Showed him many times. Can't really blame him. Charles is, maybe, jealous "Kind of missed you on the podium," the Ferrari driver barely hears him mumble, Max looks like he was unsure of saying it. Which is strange. Max has never ever second guessed anything before saying what was on his mind. Charles appreciates the thought, even if it leaves him very confused, and wonders if he actually did miss him up there and he’s just saying that to mess with him. He probably misses gloating on the podium. That makes him sour instantly.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," He wants to wipe away that smug smirk off his face. With his fists.

Carlos excuses himself when his phone rings. With that they are left alone.

It's awkward for a bit, Charles shuffles his feet on the ground, not sure what to do with himself, fighting the temptation to pick up his own phone. Maybe pretend to listen to an audio or picking up a nonexistent call...

"Many asked me if I heard your radio, it sounded like you were pretty angry," begins Max, "It made me wonder,” he shifts his gaze from Carlos to Charles. Unemotional face back in full action.

"Why would they ask you? Do you usually listen to my team radio?" Asks confused Charles tilting his head, is that the new strategy from RedBull?? New scandal!

Max huffs a breath "You know, when someone is angry they always ask me for some reason," he kicks a rock on the parking lot. Which, well, Max should know why they would do that. His short temper is in fact popular. It is strange to ask someone an opinion about a team radio for that reason though, it must have been only an excuse to stir the pot a bit, as if they weren't already spicy enough. "But now you are making me curious, what did you say?" He sets his baby blue eyes on Charles, amusement painted on his features.

Charles sighs rolling his eyes so hard that he sees his brain "It's like when you drive for Ferrari swearing is not possible anymore, you know? Not like you at least," he hides his hands in his pockets not really knowing how to handle this type of conversation. It's awkward, very. Like they are forced to interact and especially be nice to each other.

The thing is: they aren't. There's no camera pointed at their face, no microphone ready to pick up whatever they might say, no team member reminding them to behave. They are completely alone not counting Carlos, who is aware of their... dislike towards the other. They don't have to pretend. Charles doesn't want to fight either so he has to cut short the conversation very soon, the nice comments are not going to last forever, he knows that, the short list is coming to an end. They managed to argue about the weather once and he's not going to replicate that scene, especially if there's nobody to pull them both away.

"You listen to my team radio?"

"Of course, my team make me listen to them in my 'what not to do' lessons, you should come," he finishes sending the other a sarcastic and exaggerated smile before walking off to Carlos who's done with the call and is beckoning him to join - thank god. Behind Charles, he hears Max snorting "Is that a date?" He shouts back playfully. Charles can't help the laugh that leaves his chest turning around to give him the middle finger. Max rises his shoulders slightly.

It's nice.

In some fucked up way.

Chapter Text

Back in Maranello everyone is far from happy of the first half of the season of the year. Charles in primis. No one is laughing or telling jokes, there are only whispers and avoiding glances when the two drivers come in the meeting room with the team principal.

Mattia begins his speech about what they have to do in the summer, what's gonna happen et cetera... then he switches to the last race, he mostly talks about the results of the analysis on the data they gathered, his personal opinion which his too hopeful. "So Charles, Carlos, you were in the car, what do you think?"

Charles is the one to speak first "I think the car is nowhere near where it should be at this point in the season. The pace is not there, the tyre degradation is impossible to manage, the understeer is too much causing me to lose the front most of the times, the throttle pedal is still broken...I think you get it. This car cannot win the championship when it can barely compete with the two Red Bulls. I don't know about next year but as it is today the only real competition we have is mainly Max's car, not the Mercedes'. That's a big opportunity we shouldn't waste. I know how Max drives better than anyone alse on the grid. I'm confident I can keep up with him, so I'm really disappointed that the championship seems to be more and more out of my reach and it's not even my fault," he turns to Mattia, eyes cutting sharp.

Mattia looks surprised.

"I won't keep saying it is when it clearly is not, everyone sees it's the pit wall that keeps on making big mistakes, not me. I'm tired of taking the blame; the car and the team are the problem. I signed for Ferrari because I want to bring wings to the team, not just races, but the championship. I know I can do it so just give me the tools to do so and don't sabotage me, please. You are all making me feel like a fool out there," he finishes glaring at everyone present. Doesn't rise his voice, he doesn't want to get down on their level. Charles keeps his composure to try and get his point come across and understood. Yelling doesn't solve anything he learnt.

Everyone gulps seeing and avoid his eyes, suddenly feeling guilty which honestly should have happened way before today. Charles finally looks back at Mattia "First of all, calm dow-"

"No, Mattia, I'm really tired of hearing that. I can't forgive and forget every time the team fucks me over, I don't really care if it's intentional or not. Because you know what? I'm here to win, I'm here to make Ferrari shine again, that's it. I'm not here to make excuses for all of you for the cameras. You can take your responsibilities sometimes. I'm infinitely proud and glad to drive for this team, you all know that, I will give my soul but I want the same in return. That clear?"

It's evident in his eyes he is very serious about the matter, the crew is watching him and listens to every word coming out of his mouth knowing that he is right. Others are just there, sitting and hoping he will be fired. He can see them growing impatient, the redness creeping up their neck from anger, ready to spit some reprimand and cuss word.

But this, the factory? Maranello is his territory.

Some people here know him since he was barely a teenager waiting in the car outside for hours for Jules to come back. And some other from when he spent days with the mechanics once he was finally allowed inside, got to see the first look of absolute awe in his face at seeing where his dream cars were made. Some, instead, from when he first joined the academy, with confidence, fierceness and devotion pouring out of every single pore on his body. These people are his people, his family, the people Charles donated his heart to. The leverage he has inside the factory is equal to no one else's.

And that's why Mattia, more often then not, does not do these meetings here or makes sure those people that know Charles since he was a baby are not present. Because now Mattia has to keep his voice down, he has to watch what he's saying and not risk the fury of the people who adore their little pupil.

"I get it, but keep in mind that we still have an image to maintain, we're not some lower team that can have angry drivers screaming and throwing a fit after every bad race. I know you're young but you have to be mature and let us do our job. We—" he looks pained at saying that pronoun, Charles wants to scoff in his face, "—signed you because you fit those criteria so don't make us regret it. If you have a problem you can say it, I'm not stopping you, but don't do it in the paddock or in front of the cameras. That's all I'm asking for, Charles"

The young driver just sighs and sits back down, for now it's the best he can do and hope the team can finally open their eyes and learn from past mistakes. He's just asking for a competitive car, which he knows they are capable of, and a good strategy in which he can rely on. The Ferrari brand doesn't need anymore polishing, the tifosi loves it and doesn't care about what he says to the cameras. If not, by now they wouldn't have any fans at all.

"I think he's mostly right. The car has potential but is not really reliable. The strategy...well, it's not the best. I think as drivers we are the face of the team and take everything on our shoulders so it's not great having a team that you can't really trust to be better. Having the doubt of not really knowing if the next race is gonna be worse is... devastating, honestly. I think we both want a car good enough where it's just down to our capabilities and talents to win or not," finishes Carlos receiving a tense nod from Charles.

All the team around the table nods in agreement promising they'll be better and reassure them they'll give their everything.

Carlos smiles, accepting all the praises coming his way.

Does that reaction come to a surprise to Charles? Not really. Carlos was specifically signed by Mattia. If he could have, Mattia would have gotten rid of Charles a long time ago, just like he did with Vettel. He will never admit it straight out, but the Spanish driver is the favorite of team in some ways. Many ways. It might sound unthinkable because of what Charles has achieved, what he has sacrificed for this team is incomparable to Carlos at the moment. Charles is sure Carlos is a good guy in his own way, he was never exactly mean to Charles. He just didn't like the Spaniard for a list of motives and he knows Charles is not his favorite person either, not that he wants to. They get along fine and that's what matters. But contrary to what it seems, this is not entirely a team sport. Having more people on your side is bound to hurt your teammate in some way. And Charles is barely surviving it, gasping for air in his own home.

Sebastian Vettel warned him about all of these politics before he left. Especially regarding the Sainz family and what they are capable of. Their influence.

Mattia doesn't like Charles. Not particularly. Doesn't get the hype, doesn't try to understand him. The cars he makes are not suited for Charles. Never will. Of course he's going to complain and of course Mattia doesn't like being told, in front of everybody, that his car is shit. In his eyes it’s a public offense what Charles just did. Carlos feels fine in his car? The car is therefore good, Charles simply doesn't have the skills; it's not Mattia's fault. He told Charles that. To his fucking face.

Mattia does likes some things about Charles, surprisingly. The market he brings for sure, so many sponsors they could cover the whole car with, the waves of fans he brings in, his pretty face to convince powerful people but most of all his demeanor. Charles is pretty easy to manipulate if you are in a higher position. He's eager to please, quick to blame himself and easy prey for Mattia to settle down and keep him at ease, to feel in control. Charles is the golden boy he has to keep with him at all times to make himself look good. The fact he's a fast driver is a perfect bonus.

But if there's one thing Mattia doesn't absolutely like is criticism. And if Charles keeps lashing out then everything is crashing down. And Charles looks determined to do exactly that.

That is what scares Binotto to his core. So much so because he's starting to believe Charles played with him the entire time, made himself look easy to manipulate and keep under control for his own benefit. Because looking at him now, at his expression, that face is not of one who was bullied for three years straight by Mattia. It's not one he's familiar with, that's for sure. Mattia suddenly feels like the polished floor he was confidently walking on is crumbling beneath his feet.

A week after the start of summer break, Charles is in his boat with his brother, Arthur, too anxious to be at home too long and think about the next season. Being at sea seems like the only available option other than playing the piano. In the middle of the afternoon Seb calls him, he answers almost immediately. It's kind of embarrassing still having this kind of hero-worship for the four time world champion. He saw him naked, come on.

"Hey Charles! How's it going?" The cheerful German voice greets him, it instantly puts a smile on his lips. He didn't realize how much he missed him since he last saw him in the paddock. Charles was too preoccupied with his problems that he hadn't had the time to go and talk to him.

Their relationship had its ups and downs at first. Charles was new and so eager to learn and take his first victory, while Seb was like the wise lion of the garage you wouldn't dare to disturb and watched from afar. It was rocky, Charles had this intense admirations (if it switched to a little crush at one point that's a secret Charles will take down to his grave) and Seb didn't want anyone in between his prize. Especially not a young boy, doesn't matter how much he resembles himself.

They made it thru as friends easily after a few months, the German just took his sweet time to warm up to the young driver. They never hated each other like Netflix made it out to be. Fighting is normal. When Seb let him in his bubble though, Charles became like a little brother he couldn't and didn't want to get rid of.

Sebastian Vettel adores Charles Leclerc in simpler words.

"Hello! It's going okay, I can finally sleep at night," that makes Seb laugh "How about you? You're with Kimi, right?"

"Yeah, we are in Switzerland, you should come by sometimes. Anyway," he pauses "a little bird told me you spoke up against Mattia.”

Sometimes Charles forgets that Seb knows literally everyone in the paddock, especially the good people who still works in Ferrari.

"You wanna tell me I was wrong? I wasn't," he sounds defensive but hopes Seb doesn't pick up on it.

"Wasn't going to, I think you're right. I actually wondered when you where going to stick up for yourself, you know that. Your little good boy act is not going to work with him."

"Really? You knew it was gonna happen? From me?" Asks Charles sitting down on the little couches spread on deck.

"I mean, I kind of hoped it wouldn't but, Kimi can testify, Ferrari is a rough place to work at. Especially with Binotto," which is an understatement "They're one of the best, I'm not saying otherwise, but they think they're so superior to everyone else that if they do wrong it's not that bad. You really got to show them how bad they're doing. History isn't everything."

Charles hates himself for the fact that his first instinct is still to defend them, no matter how he himself thinks those exact words. It's a disease, surely.

"Yeah, I noticed... But, I don't know Seb..." Charles sighs looking over the crystal blue water of Monaco, the sea is calm and shines under the hot sun. He sees bubbles on the surface and Arthur is right below hoping to see some special fish.

"What is it, little one?" Seb asks with a smirk. That nickname was so embarrassing and he knew it. Whenever Seb wanted to entertain himself, back in the day, he would do anything to frustrate the other, especially when Charles first came in as his teammate. Making him turn red was his favorite hobby. Charles obviously hates it.

"I don't think they're gonna listen to me, you know? They didn't look like they took me too seriously, they still think they're right with every decision they make and I can see that with the way the car is progressing. They don't like me," if you can even say that, the car is going backwards in Charles opinion but he's not an engineer and can't really say much about that. He can just say what he feels when he drives the thing "I was so determined to be more tough? I don't know, more like you maybe? I'd say like Kimi but he's too extreme... Anyway, now I'm kind of starting to give up after hearing all the new updates from the factory".

He's rambling, he knows that, who would deliberately say how shit your team is, how disastrous your car is developing to your competitors? Charles should keep it all for himself, he has done it for years, but Seb is the only one he trust enough to do so. Seb won't spill all Ferrari secretes for his benefit, he's a sucker for Ferrari too. There's Pierre, his best friend, but he doesn't get how Ferrari works. He has been groomed by RedBull for half of his career, he doesn't understands him fully. Then there's Andrea, Joris and all his crew...he really doesn't want to bother them, doesn't want to add his depressive feelings on top of a shitty season.

"I think it's good for you, being more loose. You have time to be the kind driver, you are still in your prime Charles. You can do whatever you want, you are the top driver of the moment. The people that really counts have your back," Seb releases a breath like he's already tired of trying to make Charles understand how he feels about what's happening. "Have fun, don't think too much of the consequences, you have been building your character for long enough, that's how you win championships. Don't think about Ferrari, think about yourself first sometimes, yeah?" He chuckles "That's what I did in RedBull, everybody hated my guts, it was a lot of fun and won my titles. Then I calmed down and suddenly I was the hero. Easy."

"Was it? Fun I mean?" He asks. Being booed at every race doesn't seems like it was gonna be pleasant. But then again, Verstappen doesn’t seem to mind either.

"Oh yeah, right Kimi?" His voice sound far away before returning "He agrees. We are in a new era, it won't be the same but you should try it, feel what is it like, be more confident, show it. Keeping your head down will not work with Mattia, your usual tricks too, he doesn't like you enough. It might not seem like it but you hold the reins of the horse, Charles"

"I don't know."

Charles would love to say that he's right without thinking too much. But he has to. If he did that, be confident, show Binotto and his people his harsher side... It might not end up well for him. And anyway, he's not used to it, he likes to make people do what he wants by treating them with kindness and encouraging smiles, make them feel important. That's how he was raised, how he was taught to speak and behave, it comes naturally to him. He never ever realized it until Pierre made a comment about it when they were young.

That said; Sebastian is right. With people like Binotto it doesn't work. It helped enough to maybe try and be treated with more respect at first. It will be hard but it is the least he can do.

"Are they treating you right, Charles?"

Charles hesitates, looks across the seas once more "They...Nothing unusual, Seb," settles on.

"Please Charles, tell me they are not getting braver. I'm begging you, Charles," even over the phone Seb sounds exasperated, like he's minutes away from breaking down crying. Charles' heart squeezes at that because it's the exact reason he cannot tell him. If Sebastian knew how many times Charles had to cover some little bruise, had to almost put his hand over his ears from the shouts or back away from too hazardous touches and disgusting phrases directed at him, all the while Charles had to act like he didn't feel like throwing up at all. If Seb knew all of it... Charles is sure that Ferrari would not survive his wrath and that's not something he wants. Sebastian Vettel would do it anyway while knowing that it would make Charles resent him forever.

"It's nothing I can't handle, don't worry. I promise," is Charles' reply which is not exactly untrue. The thing is that not even Charles knows what he can endure if Ferrari is in between, how far he's willing to go. That’s how fucked up his brain is.

Seb sigh on the other end of the line is long and deep "Alright, we'll talk about it later, Charlie. But think about it. I don't know, visualize Verstappen's head on everyone else's shoulders and it might be easier. Stand up for yourself more, take that risk."

Those were the advices he wanted to explore in Spa, where the bad luck was evident since the start of the race. When he got off the car he stormed off straight towards the pit wall, helmet still on.

"What the fuck was that?" Voice is cold and strangely calm while he speak with his race engineer, Xavi.

He sees a flash of blue suits passing in the background.

"We wanted the fastest lap, Charles, we thought you could do it,” he explains taking off his earphones and placing a hand on his shoulder. Charles immediately shrugs it off frowning. Even the way he phrases it, like it was all in his hands and there aren't twenty other drivers trying to do the same thing as him. That's so wrong. Charles blames himself enough for a lot of things, he mentally can't take the people he trust with his life to blame him too.

"You thought that having fastest lap was better than being in fifth place? For one point? That's just plain stupid, I'm not gonna listen to you if you continue working like this," Charles shakes his head evading from cameras and reporters. He ignores the look Xavi sends his way. Charles should have insisted more to stay out like he said on the radio. But he trusted them. Again.

He can't believe this, calling him in the box to get fastest lap? That's ridiculous. Like they expected Alonso, two time world's Champion Fernando Alonso, was just going to let him pass and make him do that. And he received a penalty too, for speeding of all things. Just great. Fucking awesome.

While he goes to weight himself he avoids everybody's eyes, he really can't deal with how they are looking at him. With pity, like a kicked puppy. He's sick and tired of everyone's bullshit but obviously no one does what he asks them to do today and that's how he bumps into the winner of the race.

"Good race Leclerc, didn't see you on the podium this time too," taunts Max with a smirk on his face and sweaty blond hair. He looks like a hot devil descended from the pits of hell. Damn him. It should have been Charles looking like that. It should have been him. "Are you setting a new record for losers? That's not what we are here for, you should know that."

"Shut the fuck up, Verstappen. It’s not the time," he mumbles tying, and failing, to pass by him, he vaguely sees Carlos in his field of vision but he doesn't seem to notice him. He would love some help from his teammate to escape more easily but he is probably too busy celebrating a podium. Lucky him.

He then feels the warmth of Pierre's hand on his shoulder, it settles him for a second before it quickly disappears, too much in a rush to do anything else.

Max stops Charles from leaving by grabbing his arm tightly, fingers around the red suit that burns like fire, it's been a long time since Charles snapped at him like that "What went wrong this time? Car's still made of absolute shit?" Max tries to search for the familiar green eyes but with Charles helmet still on it proves to be quite difficult.

"Fuck off," hisses Charles "I mean it," yanking his arm free and sprinting toward where he was going leaving a stunned Max behind.

"Ferrari is sucking the life out of you!" Yells after him Max but the other is already too far away to hear him. A team member wearing red already talking to him wearing an harsh expression.

How strange.

When Max looks at Charles he doesn't see the charming persona he puts up for show: the kind smile and shiny eyes, perfect personality, quick witted, the driver with the right answer always ready to spill out of his lips like honey. Or better, he sees that too.

When Charles, perfect, angelic Charles, turns around, Max sees that split second right there; very easy to miss. And that's what he personally hates about him, makes him rage like thunder. He sees his façade break for that split second, his porcelain face stuck in that annoying easy going smile crumble like a sand castle while everyone else admires the wide back that is carrying an immense legacy. It's so much bigger then him that he wonders how he doesn't fall right on the ground or even stumble under its weight.

Max really hates him. And hates the people that believe in his act even more.

Charles is an awfully good actor. Master manipulator. You would never say that about him, like, it's a ridiculous thought, but he is. He's so good he deceives himself too. It's incredible. He's just too high in love, too passionate for something that only tightens his deadly chokehold on its drivers and only lets him down again, and again, and again...

Max will probably always hate Charles. Even if just a tiny bit. Could never shake off this intense and so familiar emotion, no matter what will happen between them in the future. Something always has and always will rub him the wrong way about him, must be imprinted in his DNA at this point.

It's not Charles' fault either, he bleeds red Ferrari, like literally. It's like he was born exactly for this team. Came out of the womb with a red suit on. If Ferrari was made man for this generation it would be Charles Leclerc, and that's a fact. But still, all his hard work and pure talent is being played with in the hands of an undeserving team. Charles knows that too, Max's sure of that. He's not stupid like he seems. He does have some thought behind those green eyes. He’s as smart as he looks dumb. And he looks golden retriever puppy dumb, so. Doesn't matter how high over heels he's over that red car, it will destroy him and he will do exactly nothing about it. Not one thing if not saying 'Thanks' maybe. That's how ridiculous he is. Ready to burn and die inside that red death trap. That beauty he drives like his entire life depends on it.

He was born for it. Simple as that.

Back in 2021, when Charles lost all hopes (and will never admit it) in Monaco, Max saw him. They haven't really ever interacted before until that point. Yeah, they knew each other since babies and all that old story but they really didn't talk in the paddock. When he was in Sauber, Max was already driving for the big team, too busy fighting Daniel for podiums and points, make a name for himself. Didn't spare him a single glance, ignored the rumors that still follow them, about their rivalry. When Charles made it in Ferrari he was overshadowed by his legendary teammate and Max was too angry and young and wanted to win and win at all costs. Max only had eyes for Lewis and the championship barely out of his grasp. He was angry and felt like he was put on this world to scream a big 'fuck you' to whoever was against him. Not even Charles mattered, he kind of regrets it now.

They fought several times despite it all, Austria 2019 is the first that comes to mind. Even though Charles was pissed at Max, couldn't even look at Max in the eyes without his hands shaking too much from rage. Max noticed.

Charles still didn't confront him. Never. Not like when they were kids, when they glared and pulled shit stints on and off track. Max was ready for a fight everytime, was patiently waiting for it, hopeful in some way, to relieve the tension that was slowly, and steadily, reaching its limit. It never really happened. It's like Charles came in Formula 1 forgetting Max's existence. Charles didn't dare to spare him one look, ignored him like the plague, Max didn't exist in his universe right that moment, especially in that moment.

And Max let it go quickly despite how much it bothered him, he was busy. If Charles wanted to run away from the champagne then fuck him too, Max didn't care. Charles can go rot in his own misery.

Then Charles used his own move against him the following race, caught him off guard, and Max knew that his Charles was still there, under those layers of Angel face and charm.

It reassured him and terrorized him at the same time.

Anyway, back in Monaco 2021, the infamous curse of Monaco was still going strong. And Max saw him smiling at the cameras, hopeless, careless, not an ounce of anger toward the team that ruined what could have been a remarkable home race. The same team which looked more than ready, eager almost, to blame his own driver rather than themselves.

Oh, Max might have won that race but he was so fucking angry with him.

Why was he smirking like he had the whole world under his feet? Why was he so fucking calm as if he already had eight championships under his belt, a triple crown and broken all of the possible records? Why was he the one that looked like he won? Why?

It didn't make any sense. Max saw him under that ugly mask, why doesn't he show how he really feels? What's wrong with him? What's wrong with Charles? Why nobody notices anything?

Max reached his limit that day and actually searched for him, sought him out like a predator, still in his suit and sopping wet from the champagne, leaving footprints on the asphalt. He found him surprisingly easily hiding from fans near his red motor home, in between buildings. He kind of expected - probably hoped - to find him finally soaked in blood and exploding with rage, punching a wall or something. But not Charles. Obviously. Charles always surprised him. Always has even when they were toddlers and he drove like a maniac in those tiny karts and huge helmets.

Charles is there, simply watching his beloved home track from afar, catching a break, admiring his fans still chanting his name, his suit looking a pale red that day but his face was still incredibly content.

"Why? Why are you like this?" Burst the quiet Max not understanding. He really didn't get it, call him stupid, he doesn't care.

"Congrats on the win!" Charles turned around surprised and directed his shark-like smile at him, dimples and crescent eyes too. Max felt his blood boiling inside of him hot like lava. Charles' pr smile was the last thing he needed right that moment, the one plastered on his face 24 hours a day. Directed at him was devastating and fueled his anger even more.

Max hates the fake persona Charles built and parades around proudly. He also hates the Charles he knows since they first locked eyes that fateful day. He hates how cocky he is, how careless and overconfident he is with Max, how he always knows what to say to make Max hate him even more. It's a vicious cycle, Max dislike for Charles as a whole is intense. But, if Max had to choose, he would pick Little Shit Charles every day over Perfect Jesus Leclerc. Because the first one he's familiar with, he can handle him, it's reserved only for Max probably, and it's human. The second is for everybody else and it’s so fucking boring.

"You lost! You fucking lost again!" He threw his hand up in the air "Rather, you didn't even start!" He yelled stepping close, like maybe Charles had not realize yet or something. Did he even knew the race finished? Max just wanted to yell some more and wipe out that smug expression of his. 'why weren't you beside me? Why?' it's more or less what he felt like screaming.

Max doesn't know if it's some kind of disease, it certainly feels like one, but he wants Charles besides him every second of his life at arm reach length and right at the same time can't stand the sight of him. This conflict is irritating and so fucking confusing that it messes up with his head every time he sees a flash of red in is vision. He is not a literal bull for fuck's sake, running at the first shade of red put in front of him. It must be something pathological for sure, or maybe he's simply going crazy.

"I know I did, you won."

"Then why are you like this? Why are you so fucking calm and happy and shit?" He shoved the Ferrari driver hard but it didn't even feel good because Charles just stumbled back with his usual elegance and it was unnerving. But at least he felt him, he was real and rock solid under his fingers tips. Charles was there, with him. But not with him.

"Do you know what's the difference between us, Max?" Asked Charles out of the blue, cocking his head to one side and looking at Max through his aye lashes. He wasn't smiling anymore. Eyes suddenly distant and cold. It made Max feel disoriented from the drastic change.

Max never heard him speak this calmly to him before.

"I won, you didn't,” he had almost stuttered, still caught off guard. He can hear his own heart beating, pounding fast from the leftover rage.

Charles chuckled "Right, you won and you'll win many times more. I lost, that's also true. Didn't even start, really. But you know what's interesting? I'll always win even when I lose," he mused with a knowing look. Like he was telling a secret. Like a fucking happy cat. Max did not feel like listening anymore. He leaned back on the wall, looking up the pink sky.

A couple of moments passed before he looked back at Charles "What the fuck are you saying now? You’ve gone insane,” Max was rightfully confused. In his defense, he had so many thoughts running through his head that trying to make sense of whatever bullshit Charles managed to create was difficult for him.

"Think about it. I have a lot of fans, drive for the biggest team ever and have the tragic back story on my side. Even when I lose, people will always cheer for me, look at them," he pointed at the fans climbing on rails to try and catch a glimpse of him "I'll be remembered as the Ferrari driver carrying his two dead family members dreams, a friend's death too, fighting on track with one of the most talented driver of our generation. That's you, Max. But you won't be carried in history like Senna, Lauda or Schumacher. Those are the names that come up first to mind because of how tragic their carrier ended. Their passion. Sure, they were also crazy talented. In the future you'll just be the winner of that time, you don’t show enough emotions to be carried on in history. I'll be remembered as the one that gave you an hard time like a hero driving a Ferrari. The one that everyone says should have won instead."

And he talked like he was so sure about what he was saying, like it was all was planned from the beginning.

Max scoffed not believing him "And you're happy? You drive to be just another victim? That's enough for you?" Because that would have been extremely disappointing. His respect dropping lowering every passing second. And it was already at the bare minimum.

Max should have not felt like this, he shouldn't have been so passionate, if that is the right word, for what he was experiencing right there, about another driver. An enemy driver. Named Charles Leclerc.

He was acting on pure instinct.

But that's what was going on in Max's mind. He could not believe that someone he hates for many infinite motives but also respects very much (still the bare minimum by everyone else’s standard) - and it's not too hard to admit, it's a simple fact - was disregarding his talent like this. For Max, Charles was just dimming like a light bulb right in front of his eyes. And he couldn't stand that. It was not right. But he also couldn't touch him because he was sure he was still flaming hot.

"Of course not, I'll be a champion. I'm just explaining why losing for me will never feel like a loss for you. Not right now at least, I obviously have not the right car," he still had a dopey grin stretching his lips. The more Max heard him talk the more he was beginning to think he was losing a rival, he was just slipping away from his fingertips. Because Ferrari had brainwashed him. There was no other explanation.

That wasn't the Charles he had grown up with or maybe he had made him up all in his head and he never existed in the first place. Maybe he shouldn't have had put him up so high on a pedestal. The real Charles would have given him a hard time on track driving a lawnmower. He would have fought until he ran out of fuel and his tyres didn't have any rubber on them.

His Charles would have made him feel like he had eyes on him all the time like a predator, as if it was just a matter of time before he would have been caught, checking his mirrors while holding his breath. And Max’s pressure would have risen, adrenaline pumping fast in his veins and it would have been fun and dangerous and Max loved it.

His Charles now looked like he was buried and lost under a pile of useless dirt.

"That's fucking bullshit and pathetic even for you, you should be fighting," with me he wanted to add but he didn't say it, didn't dare to. That wound gave been too much for something so fragile. "You have to.”

The sun was setting behind him, he looked breathtaking. Max will never forget his siluette.

"I am," he answered but his eyes weren't one of a fighter. They did not have that familiar spark. Not that day and not for a long time.

That conversation was and will never be mentioned ever again.

Chapter Text

Charles is very quiet. From the time he got off his car and now, just seconds away from the conference. He hasn't spoken with anyone either. He listened to the team telling him what went wrong, how the car is looking good, how he will probably win if he really tries and bullshit like that.

The team is so fucking blind. He hasn't won since Austria. He hasn't been on a fucking podium since then and they really think he's still a contender for the championship? When everyone is doing their best in making his teammate's life easier? What kind of possible champion doesn't remember the feeling of the weight of a first place trophy? He can't even call himself a 'contender'. It’s all lost and he can't do anything to prevent it.

“Charles, you really shouldn’t complain, you’ve got so many poles this year! The car is very fast!”

“If the car goes fast over one lap it’s all thank to me and not the car, you better remember that,” is Charles’ reply, walking quickly with Binotto hot on his heels.

“No, having so many poles clearly means—“

“The poles mean shit, points are made on a Sunday! And your fucking car is slow. Stop saying otherwise, Mattia.” Hisses Charles before disappearing behind the door of his driver room. The last thing he sees is the tightening muscle on his boss’ jaw.

He was so certain this was going to be his year, he was gonna dominate the season with his beautiful red car and everyone was gonna be below him while listening to his National anthem. But it's not him on the top step of the podium, It's Max every time with his fucking Dutch anthem. He can't stand it anymore, honestly. They are all sick of it, even Max must be at this point.

"So, we'll begin with Charles Leclerc, we saw you struggling in this race since the third lap. Can you explain what happened?"

"Verstappen's tear off got in my breaks,” that seems to capture the attention of the Dutchman who turns his head from looking bored at his mic - he had been fiddling with it for the past hour driving Charles crazy because of the shuffling sound, Max continued to do it more just to spite him, of course - to him "It all went down from that and the strategy today certainly didn't do me any favors."

"It was my tear off?" Charles glares at him as an answer making the other huff a laugh. He doesn’t blame Max honestly, it was just insanely bad luck, but you know, it makes him feel better.

"Is that why you're so fucking pissed off?" Max seems to forget they're in front of millions of cameras and microphones at the moment, not in private. Charles hardens his glare looking right into the amused blue eyes.

The entire press turns to look at Max like he has grown two heads. Charles?? Pissed off?? Not possible.

"No,” he says and even in that short word that strange mix of French and Italian of his can still be heard.

Max laughs and already that makes Charles' nerves stretch and almost snap from how unnerving he is "You soooo are. Ridiculous."

They later learn it wasn't even Max's tear off.

_________

Mattia Binotto is the team principal of Scuderia Ferrari for some reason. It's really difficult to not get his words get to you despite his incompetence. Charles knows he's right, his boss has got an ego too big to admit the car he built is shit. Still. It's hard. So when he's getting his last scolding of the day (he hopes) like a fucking child that can't escape, he meets Max's eyes.

Charles is leaning against the wall. Not looking anywhere in particular, just avoiding Mattia’s presence in general, wishing this season to end already, looking forward to his next dinner with Elkann.

Mattia is a quiet man, who doesn't get angry but still looks threatening with his tall stature and cutting words. Like saying that Charles might be out by the end of the year is really Ferrari's solution. Is it true? Absolutely not. Does it hurts? Hell fucking yes.

So yes, Charles is in a vulnerable moment when Max sees him. He's just passing by to get to his own team meeting, already bored out of his mind. He can't hear clearly or understand what they are discussing about - be it for the mixture of languages spoken and Mattia not exactly shouting - but he can hear enough though to get the idea though.

Charles doesn't look too good. Does not seem sad, more annoyed that anything. He's clearly trying his best to ignore what his boss is saying. He barely makes aye contact with Max too. He's just avoiding everything around him but Max can still see Charles gulping down from the nerves.

Max stops immediately on his tracks. Doesn't really know why, they aren't on good terms at the moment. Never have but right this moment especially. He can see Binotto winding up when Charles barely opens his mouth to say something back and he immediately shuts it down flinching away, killing the rapid fire burning in the green eyes. Ferrari's tp is getting angrier by the second, hands getting more confident, one is already gripping his driver bicep. Charles is just there, can't really do anything about it.

Max is confused. Not with the situation between Mattia and Charles, that's pretty clear. But with himself. He has this strange feeling crawling up all inside him and it's making him all hot. It is pretty similar to his usual - and dare he say familiar - anger but it's not it and he doesn't get it. Max only knows that whatever is happening in front of him he doesn't like it. At all.

He cocks his head to the side. Sees Charles' eyes slide back to meet his at the sudden movement. Then they shift quickly to Mattia before settling once again on Max’s form, studying him.

Max notices Binotto stepping closer and his grip turning probably painfully tight, he must be feeling ignored. So Max raises his foot to take the first step towards them when Charles immediately glares at him.

Max stops for the second time. Frozen in place.

Charles' eyes are sharp and honestly quite scary looking. That’s a look he hasn’t seen since— maybe Austria?? Anyway, he clearly doesn't want him anymore closer than he already is.

Max clenches his jaw. He doesn't like this at all, he knows Binotto’s stance, it reminds him of his father's. He’s found himself in the Ferrari driver position one too many times. Max can feel a vein pulsing on his temple and his fists tightening at his sides. Why does he feel so strongly about this? That's his enemy right there! Is it pity? No, Charles doesn't look bothered enough and Max doesn't care that much. Anger? Doesn't really quite feel like it, not entirely. He feels like when a mechanic he doesn't know touches his car, is it like possessiveness or something? Over Charles?

"I understand Mattia but I really have to go now," Charles finally manages to speak, eyes just as scary, if not more, staring up at his boss, before he escapes from the other taller frame "And I still think I'm right by the way," he adds walking away "I'm sorry or whatever," Max relaxes his fists, like it all never happened. The last thing he sees before walking away too is Mattia saying profanities in Italian and wild gestures.

"Ti conviene abbassare i toni, Charles!"

So yeah, another thing they both pretend never happened.

And if Max keeps an aye out when he notices just how many times Charles is inappropriately approached and cornered by his own team and sponsors - really, how had he never seen this terrible behavior before?? - well, Max is good at pretending despite how he'd love to put his fist through someone's face.

________

"I'm sorry sir, tres désolé, but if I remember correctly," which he does, "I was heavily penalized last time for breaking that rule made because of Verstappen, right? And this morning I'm pretty sure he almost overtook me in the pit lane. Could you take a look at that, please?"

Blue eyes are directed at him razor sharp "No, I did no—"

"Ah yes! Thank you Charles, I almost forgot," interrupts the director, the Ferrari driver smiles slightly, Pierre besides him rolls his eyes already preparing himself for what’s about to unfold. Of course Pierre, and everybody else, should have expect the briefing to not go smoothly ‘till the end. "Verstappen, you are lucky it was just free practice. One wrong move tomorrow and there will be serious consequences."

Max looks at the director like he must be joking because what does he mean by 'serious consequences'? It's his home race!

"But I didn't do anything wrong?? I did not cross the white line,” he insists, sure of it. He might not be able to see much from the cockpit but Max has a good knowledge about the length of his car, has alway been very precise about the position of his tyres and front nose.

"You did, I saw it. Your ugly car was almost touching mine."

How can his voice still sound innocent will forever surprise Max. It's incredible, no wonder he gets away with a lot all alone.

"I saw it too honestly," adds Lewis Hamilton to the conversation.

Max looks murdurous, first Charles and now him?

Max is one of the few drivers who isn't here in the paddock to make real friends and joke around. Always made it abundantly clear. Doesn't even try to fake it for the cameras. He doesn't like them and they don't like him. It's very simple. He's here to race. It’s his job, nothing more, nothing less. Some might think he's lonely, in reality he's not. It's easier for him to concentrate, to not let feelings get in the way of driving. People all around him avoid him and he's very happy with that, grateful even. He has his team with which he can be himself and loosen up if he needs to and that's enough. Lando and Daniel for some reason don't get that but they are an exception. The two of them is already too much.

He can make conversation with everyone, small chats about the race, he's not mean to them in any shape or form. He’s not a complete asshole and the drivers know what he’s there for. If they don't deserve it he can be very nice. Still, Max likes to keep everybody at a safe distance. That's the way he was risen to be as ruthless as possible on track.

For those reasons and more, the year 2021 in primis, Lewis Hamilton and him really don't get along. Max respects him enough, his talent is not something he would ever doubt, but their exchanges and past is too rocky, they had too many weekends ruined because of the other. They settled on a blissful mutual ignorance now that the air around them has settled.

But Lewis is not like Max. Lewis is kind, respectful with everyone, always there if you need him. He probably would even help Max if he asked him.

Still, what he just did, is very unusual.

Yes, Hamilton is all the nice things listed above but he too keeps his distance whenever he can. Lewis almost looks more lonely than Max at times.  While Max has this dangerous aura around him that keeps the others away, Lewis has this big bubble of respect and power, like he's above all of them. Not many dare to approach him for more than a greeting and now that his car is - well, shit - he began to stay even more by himself. AirPods perpetually in his hears. Not a man of many words, never has been with most of the other drivers.

So, for him, to intervene in a dispute that does not concern him at all? For Charles?

"You didn't see shit—"

"Right? If I didn't stop in time I would have run him over," ignores him Charles redirecting his attention to his friend.

“I should have.” Adds Charles, barely a whisper but Max heard him loud and clear.

Maybe he should have been more concerned whenever he saw the two of them interact. Charles found a new victim to charm and Lewis let it all happen so easily, welcoming him when he approached, giving the Monegasque all of his undivided attention. Max should have taken the time he saw Hamilton take out his AirPod just to be able to talk with Charles better as a big warning bell.

This newfound alliance is not good news for Max. At all.

"Yeah, you're right, he was definitely too close." Answers Lewis nodding along, face deadly serious.

"I'll run you ove—"

"Enough!"

The drivers around them don't seem amused, rather they look mostly bored by the whole spectacle.

"Your tyre was above the line so Charles is right. Come see afterwards." And judging from his tone the director will not tolerate objections.

Max scoffs, Lando shrugs at him when they meet eyes. He honestly can't believe it. And he's there, fuming for another half hour on his seat while Charles and Lewis giggle like girls on the other side of the room. Probably talking about unicorns and rainbows.

And for the record, his tyre was millimeters above the line if anything at all. He checked.

"Now you resumed into guilt trapping people to give penalties? Running out of ideas?"

"It almost worked, right? Can't make mistakes now, Verstappen. You heard the director," sing songs Charles like he can't even bother to listen to Max, as if he's so above him.

"Should have tried when it mattered then, I never make mistakes. I’m not a rookie like you.”

Charles snorts walking away "Sure."

When Seb saw Charles in Zandvoort, before the qualifying, he laughed in his face so fucking hard. For three minutes straight at least. A couple of people passing by asked him if he was alright, he just laughed harder.

"You-oh my god" he tried to breath, mumbled something in German that almost made him laugh all over again "Oh Charles, I'm so sorry."  he wiped the tears and sniffled.

Apparently his last conference became quite popular because of his out of character short and harsh answers. "You should have seen Kimi's face when I told him, I've never seen him display so many emotions-oh god I'm dying," he took a deep breath "He looked almost proud, who would have thought that an angry baby Charles would have become the next Räikkönen!"

"Please, stop," Charles said sensing another laughing fit coming, he was really embarrassed, it's not his fault people start making crazy comparisons after a couple of innocent answers. He couldn't even back away because everyone was giving him strange looks and Seb was holding onto him tightly.

"Wait, I gotta video call him, stay right there. Don't move!" He pointed his finger at him and then he hurriedly searched for his phone, Charles took that split second opportunity to escape before he could take out his phone. He really respects Kimi so he can't bear looking him in the eyes without dying of embarrassment.

And yes, this kind of pattern continued till the Sunday race, every time he heard a snort in the distance it was the legend himself, Sebastian Vettel, laughing at his ex-teammate like a child. Very entertaining. More so when Daniel Ricciardo found out about this ‘joke’. So funny, really.

The qualifying the day before weren't great. Max was clearly on a rocket ship for his home race and Russel managed to secure the second position for the Mercedes. This circuit wasn't made for the Ferraris but Charles thought that he could squeeze in and at least bring home a second place.

Keyword: squeeze.

When the race began Charles did everything to overtake George, he stayed patient because he didn't want to risk the car and finally he got his chance in about ten laps, thanks to George who made a mistake under the pressure of the Monegasque behind. Max was leading, dominating his race is more accurate. He was so fucking fast so Charles used all the power left in the car to at least try and take his place, to challenge him, to smell the victory. He wouldn't serve Max first place on a silver platter, he would at least make him fight for it.

When he got finally in the DRS zone he tried to overtake on the impossible track, Max obviously, aggressively, squeezed him on the turn and that's when Charles barely had the time to think "Oh, shit," before he took the Ferrari and the RedBull straight thru the gravel and into the wall.

Everyone on the stands gasps while standing up.

Both cars are completely fucked. Charles gulps down air feeling extremely hot, he takes off the steering wheel before throwing himself out of the fuming car as fast as he possibly can. He sees the marshals come in, hears the fans gasps loudly again. He runs towards the RedBull car on pure instinct worried, once a couple of meters are in between Charles and the blue car, Max quickly gets out on his own all in one piece and he can finally take one breath of relief.

He makes sure that they are both okay with a quick glance and then his fury takes over and from the looks of it Max’s too. They both stomp off, still with helmets and everything on.

But Max doesn't follow him like expected, instead he stops a couple meters behind, suddenly, right in front of Charles' red car and kicks an half attached tyre, clearly very angry. Charles sees red, doesn't care that it's an expensive broken piece of junk at this point. With a couple of steps he manages to yank Max away from his car by his wrist with a painful grip, nails digging into the blue of the other suit. Max stumbles slightly but is immediately back in front of him. Helmets clashing. Eyes locking. Provoking and challenging. Charles doesn't waste time and shoves him away from him, putting a safe distance in between, almost sending him to the ground. That's when the marshals finally intervene, shifting their attention away from the cars, and pull them away from each other.

The fans are roaring.

They reach the cool down room between fast labored breaths and rabbiting hearts, adrenaline still kicking full swing. Max is suddenly there to grab him from his suit and pull him close, Charles barely makes it past the threshold before he has the other driver on him. Their helmets bump really fucking hard, harder than the first time. If the crash didn't give him a concussion this certainly did.

His ears start ringing.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Can't you fucking drive anymore?" He shouts, he can see the blue eyes shining from pure rage.

Charles shoves him off of him with all his strength and stays silent, catching his breath but Max is on him once again screaming, "Answer, you fucker!"

Then Charles pulls away "I didn't have the fucking brakes, you asshole! I couldn't stop! And you didn't leave any space either!" Charles shouts back on the verge of being hysterical, "My brakes broke and I couldn't stop! Putain de merde!" He repeats making it clear, it was scary for him! Being so close to another car while driving to the maximum limit and not having the chance to back off. It's really fucking scary!

That didn't seem to be a good enough of an excuse for Max "I don't care! If that piece of metal is broken then you retire! What were you thinking? Are you so desperate to win this championship you take me out of it?" He shoves Charles harder making him bump against the wall, he hears the wall crack, his ears are definitely ringing "I didn't expect that from you, Leclerc. I thought you played fair," the words rumble in a barely contained growl, his finger is right into his chest, the other hand clenched in a tight fist by his side like he's trying his best not to hit Charles. He can see the sweat drip down his forehead and on Max's nose, his chest moving up and down very fast.

Charles can not believe what is coming out of Max’s mouth, "What the fuck? You think I'm lying? My breaks broke in the middle of the overtake, it wasn't my fucking fault, Verstappen," he says in a serious and cold tone pointing right back at him, digging it into the other chest. His finger must hurt, he can't feel it though, "And don't give me speeches about playing fair, we both know that's not your talent," he takes off his helmet moving away, he's drenched with sweat and grime. Can feel it running down his temple. Smoke still in his lungs making it hard to breath properly. His head is… fucked.

Max ultimately rising his fist is not unexpected, not to Charles at least, he sees it coming from miles away. He prepares his own ready to fight back with whatever strength he has left in him.

They don't finish it though. Two people are holding them, one's blocking Max’s fist inches away from Charles’ face, the other managed to grab both Charles's arms pinning them behind his back, helmet forgotten on the ground.

The Ferrari driver sees people running towards them while struggling away from the grip, a camera is in a corner recording them. Great.

He has to say something to at least try and save the situation a little bit.
"If you still don't believe me then look at the data, don't you dare accusing me of crashing on purpose. I don't want to hear that ever again," he finishes before walking to his garage. He distantly hears Max smashing something and screaming profanities at him and then the slam of a door.

What a beautiful race.

The interviews after that...that shitshow, were avoided by giving no comment, both drivers were still too high on adrenaline to answer questions seriously in the media pen. The conference...well, whoever's thought of putting them back in the same room was going to get a thank you gift and a bonus on their paycheck. Charles wouldn't be surprised if it's all Netflix fault.

It was specifically organized to answer the concerns of people much later in the day.

It's Lewis in the middle, Max and Charles at his sides. The people are vibrating from excitement, the drama is always what gets them going. Every reporter has pens and computers ready, the cameras are flashing the moment they enter the room. It's kind of overwhelming.

"Let's begin. I'll start by saying congratulation to Lewis on the win, how did the car feel?"

Lewis clears his throat, he looks very uncomfortable "It wasn't the best honestly, I don't think I would have won but I finished the race first so yeah, I think it's good for the team to be back on scoring good points."

"Thank you Lewis. Now, on a more pressing matter. Charles, what happened on track?"

"My breaks stopped working in the middle of overtaking the RedBull. I couldn't stop in time to avoid the crash. The moment I realized the overtake failed I let go of the throttle and went for the breaks but yeah... The car didn't respond like I wanted, I couldn't slow down at that point and Verstappen chose that exact moment to close the door on me," good Charles, that was the answer the pr team advised him to say, which is also the true one.

He hears Max scoff. It makes him wanna punch him in the face, and this time no one is going to stop him "Are you blaming me now? Really?" Asks Max clearly upset. They all hear someone from the RedBull team clear their throat, hoping that Max takes the hint and shuts up. He doesn't, of course.

"You should blame your non-existent skills," adds Max for good measure "Find a new job while you are at it.”

"I didn't say that," turns to look at him Charles, it's the first time since their argument. Of course he doesn't blame him for that, that would be stupid as fuck "I'm just stating a fact. It’s funny you interpret it that way, though. You have something to share?"

By the look of it, that doesn't seem to sit well with Max.

"What about the fight?" The report gets their attention again.

"What about it?"

"Will you take action against Verstappen?"

Silence.

That's something Max didn't even think about. He didn't talk to anyone until now, they just hid him away for a bit. Must be why everyone from RedBull looked at him with concern.

"Why would I?"

"...He attacked you, you are the victim here, Charles. The FIA is currently discussing wether to ban Max from the next race, shouldn't you make sure that happens?"

Max's blood completely drains from his face, and not only from the fucking awesome news.

Even Max knows that's something you should never say to Charles' face, especially not right this moment were even he, the source of his anger, can recognize Charles’ innocent façade break.

"Did I look like that? If the answer is ‘yes’ then you should go to a good doctor. I can handle Verstappen just fine. It was a stupid accident, we had worse. He shouldn't be banned, arguments happen. I'll talk to the FIA myself if necessary."

Max’s eyes slide on him hearing those words.

Mia shakes her head in the distance.

The journalist doesn't look convinced, at all. Understable. Nobody here thinks they would have not hit each other if given the chance to do so.

"If it was a stupid why did you start fighting off track? We all thought you were pretty good rivals, your rivalry is considered the best of the new generation."

"I don't know, why don't you ask him?"

Every set of eyes turn to look at Max. He sighs.

"I think he was taking an unnecessary risk and crashed into me, he knew I would defend and not let him pass. The breaks failure was just another thing that went wrong in that Ferrari shopping cart other than the driver."

Oh, Charles was so going to punch him. He's just asking for it at this point.

"I think you were just scared my shopping cart was going to pass your rocket while you were still trying to push me off with all you had," Charles looks at him, up and down, judging him, then looks back at the journalist "Which might not be much."

"You wanna say that again to my face?" He sticks out from behind Lewis' frame who just leans back in the chair not risking to get in the middle of whatever was going to happen. He does look quiet concerned.

"Boys! Please, if you're not gonna be civil then get out," the director scolds them, he doesn't want any kind of fight, especially in front of an audience.

Charles clicks his tongue looking away from his so called rival and locks eyes with Silvia on the other side of the room who once again looks like seconds away from aneurysm. He decides to settle back on his chair, stare at the floor and let Lewis handle the questions. He didn't really have much to say anyway.

Well, Charles is still a very shitty person sometimes and he doesn't like backing down. One might think that after an entire hour of boring questions Charles calmed down, let the anger and hate wash away. But that doesn't happen, so when they all exit from the conference he does say "I think you were scared shitless, Verstappen," to his face before laughing at the sight of Max's face. They are immediately separated before anyone can take one step further.

"Learn your place, loser," manages to hear Charles among other things.

The briefing afterwards was...not good. Not that he expected otherwise. Every person in Ferrari was against him. Walking in the garage was like having every light shining on him, and not in a pleasant way. He still felt like he did the right thing, he didn't lose his temper too much and he answered the questions like they told him to. Their glare are so intense though that Charles can't help but lowering his head a bit.

Funnily enough RedBull is the one sending him encouraging and apologetic smiles, which does makes him chuckle a bit. They probably heard how he managed to not let their first driver get banned.

"Charles that was really unnecessary, what were you thinking?" Is all Silvia seemed to manage to say while he sat at the table for the meeting. Carlos looks very amused next to him.

"Yeah, Charles. What was that? You can't let Max get the better of you, I don't need a driver fighting with another, we can’t afford it. When did you become like this? How can I defend you on the papers? Charles?" Mattia sighs, ruffling the curly dark hair on top of his own head, looking exhausted "You really have to stop causing trouble or there will be drastic consequences. I'm not joking this time. And then you defend him? Our main competitor?! Like, Charles— it was our chance!"

Charles struggles, it wasn't his problem "I mean, it was bound to happen something like this with Verstappen."

Mattia slams a hand against the table, Charles doesn't even flinch, happened too many times "No! Charles you're not a fucking teenage rookie. You're an adult driving for Ferrari and I expect you to act like it. This type of behavior is unacceptable and I don't wanna see it ever again, especially in our home race next week. Are we clear?"

"I can't promise anything," replies Charles.

"Are we clear?" Repeats Mattia hardening his eyes. Charles doesn't break aye contact. He knows he probably overstepped this time but he won't be accused of crashing on purpose and do absolutely nothing about it. He’s kind but not that much.

"For now, sure," he shrugs.

Mattia sighs but doesn't insist, not in front of so many people, and continues with the review.

To his surprise, Seb is waiting for him just outside the motorhome. He doesn't waste a second to hug him and lead him away from the Ferrari hospitality "How do you feel?"

"Pretty numb," it's Charles’ answer. He does feel numb and hallow, like he's still going thanks to inertia. Seb looks at him like he understand. Not with pity, he genuinely gets it and it's so refreshing. Having someone that doesn't doubt what you say or think, having someone you trust to say the truth to without being judged and will always give his honest opinion and advices.

"That's okay, you're doing well Charles," he doesn't ask how Mattia took it, he's not that stupid. He knows, he can imagine. Mattia likes to talk and talk, never does anything too concrete though. Well, at least when Seb was still around. He was on the other end of it one too many times. They both were at some point. He's sure Charles has his ears full of Mattia useless worlds. But he also knows the team, at this point in time, has the worst working environment, especially towards Charles. It's why he left and also why they left him. Can't imagine how much worse it is now, without him to say when enough is enough. Only thing he can say for sure is that Mattia is getting braver and the rest of his handpicked team is quickly following him down the same road of bad behavior.

Charles must be exhausted and the fact that Seb can't do anything about it is a terrifying experience. For a man who demands control like him, like any driver in Formula 1 really, feeling powerless? It's an endless nightmare.

"Seb, am I a failure?" admits Charles, voice unsure and tiny like he never heard it before, shuffling his feet on the concrete. It's a thought that never goes away, first time Charles voices it out loud. He's scared, he's scared all the time now. No matter how much he tries to fight it off and keep it at bay with all his might, the feeling is still there, always in the back of his mind, relentless.

"I feel like I am,” it’s hunting him.

"Why do you think that?"

"I just don't get it, why do I not win? I give my everything but it's never enough. Spend every fucking hour, every second of my life working towards my goal. But maybe I'm just not worth it, you know? Maybe I should just stop blaming the team after all, I'm the one driving. I should take responsibility. And I keep failing since I stepped into this team."

Seb shakes his head, what have they done, "That's not true, Charles, it's just isn't. You care too much. You are a fantastic driver, I raced against you, believe me when I say it. You might be better then Senna and me combined."

Charles scoffs, "Right, I'm not fishing for compliments but thank you."

"Charles, I will never stop saying it. If you want to win you need to let go of the chains of Ferrari," Seb grabs his shoulder, forcing Charles to look at him.

"You think I should leave the team?" Charles looks like you just killed his puppy and eat it in front of him.

"No, of course not. I would like you to but that's another story. I'm saying that just because it's named Ferrari it doesn't mean it is any different than any other team. You have to stop comparing yourself to me, Kimi or fucking Schumacher. You're you, you'll never be them. If the car is complete cow shit then it is not your problem, it's theirs and you have to blame them, Charles. This will happen again, you can't destroy yourself everytime. You can't let them destroy you. It's not okay."

Sebastian is too familiar with what Charles is experiencing right now. His years in Ferrari were spent just like this after all. Lucky for him though, he had already a few championship on his back acting as a safety blanket. Of course, becoming champion with Ferrari would have been equal to none of the ones before. And that’s what kept him going, but also what brought him down. Driving for the red team is like chasing a carrot right in front of your eyes and never being able to reach it. It does make you go insane. Seb just hopes that Charles never reaches that level, never puts himself that low in comparison. He knows it’s fucking hard and Charles is so incredibly young still, but he has to learn that it’s okay to just say “Okay, that’s enough. I’ve given my best shot, it’s time to try something else,” otherwise he’ll be swallowed entirely by his team until they leave him hanging to dry without a second thought. It really does consumes you from the inside out the more you love it.

Still, Seb can’t help but think, if there is one person talented and deserving enough of bringing Ferrari back on top of the world, then that person is called Charles Leclerc.

"But I'm failing them, I keep making mistakes and we know in this sport it's not allowed. I just think that no matter how much I love the Scuderia I'm probably not worthy enough."

Seb clicks his tongue in disapproval.

"Your mistakes are dust compared to what the team makes! Believe me, everyone in the paddock knows that and literally no one is saying it's your fault. Not one. I heard Horner and Wolff taking you side, that's something huge!" that at least makes the other chuckle.

"But I shouldn't make them. If I'm so good then I should be able to win even in a shoebox, non?"

Sebastian knows Charle is already too far gone, he's just spiraling in his own head full of bad thoughts.

"Charles, what did you say to your father before he died?"

"That I signed for Ferrari."

"Did he believe you?"

"Yes?"

"There you have it. He did that because he was sure you'd make it, didn't even doubt you for a second I bet. No one in this universe doubts you driving for this fucking team. If anything, it's the other way around. That's why they turn against you, they are scared shitless of you. Charles, you fucking care too much and it's destroying you. You're too hard on yourself. I want you to realize one day that if Ferrari never gives you a winning car then you fucking run far away from this place. You deserve to be a champion, you need to show the world what a talented driver you are, with which suit doesn't really matter. You can still love Ferrari in your heart, can support them, be happy to see them win. It's okay, believe me."

Seb takes a deep breath, coming closer.

"Listen to this old man, you're anything but a failure. It's totally okay to have doubts but don't ever think that about yourself. You're literally the best there is out there and it really hurts me to see you like this."

Racing in Monza is very...yellow. Everything and everyone is red and yellow. It's strange but Charles and the team quickly become familiar with it (the minions jokes are getting old). It really feels like home, the tifosi are so passionate, so loving and devoted to this team. All he can feel and see is love. That's all it takes to recharge Charles, he's ready to give his heart on this race and show how good of a driver he is.

The qualifying are tense and very hard but he manages to secure the pole position. Everything explodes around him when he gets off the car. This is what feels like winning and he can't wait for the race the next day.

Once he finally has time to sit down and see how everyone else did, especially the two RedBulls, his confidence drops down a bit. He took pole by some miracle. He squeezed every drop of power and speed out of that car.

When he voices his concerns to the team, when he tells them, warns them, it's gonna be a really tight battle and their only chance of actually winning is going to be down to strategy the team shrugs it off. He's good, he acknowledge that to some extent, but the numbers never lie, Max's RedBull is too quick on this track for them and his pace is much better then theirs. Always has been and that's what makes a good race, a winning one.

"Mate, what's wrong with you?"

"What?"

"I think you are the first driver ever to hate Charles Leclerc."

"I don't hate him."

Hate is a strong word after all, it depends on the definition you gave it. Max hates Charles but he doesn’t want him to actually drop dead. So, that’s something.

Daniel sends him a look. "I don't want him dead or something, I dislike him. Intensively." Adds Max, not helping.

Max was currently hiding. He did practically half assaulted the little prince of the country less than a week ago. He doesn't feel safe, he could get murdered by billions of angry fans demanding his bloody head on a fork outside.

"You are both glaring at each other every time you meet! I saw you before!" He huffs "And don't get me started on the many digs you make of each other!" Daniel points out, Max already feels an headache coming "The briefing could have been shorter this morning if it wasn't for you two pulling each other hair and hissing like cats. Man, it's getting boring, change it up."

Max rolls his eyes "He's a dick, nothing new, Daniel. And he doesn't glare at me or speak to me for that matter, don't invent things"

That makes the Australian laugh really hard "Well, he might not glare but with the way he's looking at you lately I'm starting to believe you! Is this really over that stupid inchident?"

Max almost laughs at that.

"He destroyed my car and then insulted me! You call that stupid?" Max shakes his head "Can we stop talking about him?"

"No way, champ. This is my new favorite hobby, observing you and little Charles. Well, evil Charles now, Charles LeDevil actually exists. I guess he's too good to be true, uh?"

Max chooses to remain in silence for a while, observing the view rather than keep on fueling Daniel's new developed obsession. There's people running around like always, he spots a camera crunching down, the photographer behind concentrated on taking the best shot. Of what? Well, obviously about the protagonists of this race.

Charles and Carlos are chatting under the boiling sun. Both laughing at something, Carlos leaning against his teammate without a care in this world, like he's done it a thousand times with one hand draped across the other hips. Charles is looking down with a smile on his lips, welcoming his teammate, like he wants them to be closer, one hand resting on the spaniard bicep. Carlos is already all suited up, Charles instead has his suit half open enhancing his indecent little waist and wider shoulders. Perfect size to grab and fits annoyingly perfect under Max's palm - he knows, he grabbed it countless times over the years. His fireproof shirt too, clinging to his skin not leaving much to imagination. He looks good. Really good. And it's frustrating.

Max keeps on staring at them, he doesn’t even blink. They look too happy. Especially since Charles does not like Carlos that much, Max figured it out early on. The look of pure, barely concealed, disgust on his face whenever Sainz said something out of pocket was hilarious. Max understands, Carlos is... a character with an ego and a strange uprising. Still, it has never been strange to see them hang out or chat. But this? What is happening in front of him? Ridiculous. Neither Sainz or Leclerc are that funny.

"Do you think they fucked?"

"Who? Charles and Carlos?" Daniel turns to look at the two, following Max's line of sight "If you look at Charles interacting with anyone you would think they fucked. Have you seen him with Pierre? Russel? Hamilton?" Daniel lets out a breath, like he's feeling hot "Of course you've seen them."

Max decides to stay silent. For his sake.

“Charles is a flirty guy, it’s second nature to him. He’s never alone at events, I’m sure you’ve noticed. Getting his attention is extremely difficult. I mean, I get it, just look at him. His parents worked really hard to make him so dreamy.”

Daniel shifts from looking at the Ferrari duo still laughing to Max's jaw tensing, he can literally see the muscle flexing. Max then turns to look at him, eyes suspicious "Did you? Fuck him, I mean?"

Judging from the way Daniel is talking he's feeling left out at this point!

Daniel laughs hard "Mate," he wipes tears after he doubled down. Max can't find the same humor no matter how hard he tries. "I didn't have the privilege, no. I would have told you." For the record, he wouldn't have "Wait, there was this time in Las Vegas where—" Max shoves him away clicking his tongue before he could finish, stomping away and chugging down the RedBull can now dented. Daniel's laugh rumbles like thunder behind him.

"Charles, what are you thoughts after the race?"

Charles takes a big, deep calming breath "I think we did our best today. I do think we pitted too early but it was all down to really bad luck and coincidences that were against us. It wasn't a fun race, finishing under the safety car... yeah, I don't think it was the right call, the track was clear."

"Do you think you would have won if you could had have more opportunities to overtake Verstappen?" what a stupid question. Is the track wet if it's no longer dry?

"I guess we'll never know. Maybe yes or maybe not. It would have been more entertaining for the fans and us, that's for sure"

"Have you talked with Verstappen since the fight? The podium seemed really tense"

Tense is one way to describe it. All Charles remembers are the fans, the flags, the booing, the whistles and Max's fingers digging into his waist like he had a personal vendetta against him. He should check if he left a mark now that he thinks about it. He wonders what brought that, what was his problem as Charles really didn’t have the time or the car to bother him either on or off track.

"I'd love to never be asked again about that," he says before turning his back to leave.

"Well, it looks like we are fully entering in Verstappen's era of dominance, where he will be given the trophy is just a matter of time as his main and, honestly, only rival on track seems to have given up..." after that he doesn't hear anything else but it hurts. It really fucking hurts.

Meanwhile, on the other side "You've known Charles since the karting days, what do you think about Charles Leclerc’s sudden change of character?"

Max snorts "I still don't get to this day why everyone thinks he's this angel sent from above and I'm the devil sabotaging him. He's no saint. There's no 'sudden' change. Ask anyb— Forget it'"

He doesn't finish, she would have not believed him.

Right on cue, the interviewer face changes and doesn't look like she believed him.

Whatever.

"You all should pay more attention to what he says," he can't help but add. It has been years and still everybody on this planet seems under some kind of spell, enchanted by mean words turned into compliments. They are all blind and deaf.

She, of course, ignores him.

"Do you think you're gonna find the middle ground and repair you relationship with him?"

Max rolls his eyes.

"Is this an interview about the race or a therapy session, hm? You should have brought him too!"

She does not look happy.

Chapter Text

“And why are you here? Where’s Carlos?” Charles turns around confused, searching for answers in his crew faces.

They all look guilty and don’t meet his gaze.

Fuck.

“This is not for your teams but the F1 channel, think of it like ‘grill the grid’,” the girl looking at the script deigns him of an answer without looking up from the papers she’s holding.

Charles switches to see one Max Verstappen, clearly out of his comfort zone and looking seconds from running away if that frown is anything to judge him by.

“Yeah but those are usually alone not with… him.”

“New format! The pairs are random. Now come on, Max! Please, stand up and let us begin.”

Max grumbles but gets on his feet.

“Now, you will play a round of Jenga with a twist! Every piece you take will have a question about the other. Charles, you are only allowed to take the blue blocks, Max the red ones. I’m warning you though, they will be… hard questions, so please, I beg you, behave. Remember that you are not the only ones subjected to this. We just went through Pierre and Esteban and it was not pleasant,” she gulps down, kind of scared “Questions?”

Oh, poor Pierre.

Charles takes a deep calming breath. Max, right besides him, grabs the end of the table tightly.

“Let’s get this shit over with.”

“Fils de pute, you should feel honored.”

“I’m the champion here, you should feel honored.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Don’t.”

She claps her hands together “Great! Let’s begin!”

It starts easy enough, they both introduce each other which is already destabilizing and cringe enough. Hearing the other pr voice in this kind of context is out of this world.

They first play a game of rock, paper, shissors to decide who will begin and then the official game is set, with Charles winner of the first round. Max can already feel the other ego inflating and rolls his eyes.

He takes the first blue block and flips it “Do you think I will ever give you a real fight in the championship?” Charles grits out. This is beginning well!

Charles looks up, sending Max the fakest smile he can muster.

Max seems to hold in a laugh and looks around him with a face that screams ‘is this a serious question?’. The crew smiles sheepishly.

Not a prank then.

Max then turns to Charles who’s no longer looking at him but fiddling with the block in his hand “I mean, I’ve always said there are few people that can win it and Charles is one of them. So, yeah, anyway.”

He clears his throat, taps one particular red block in the middle that seems stuck, he can’t even begin to move away and choose another that Charles’ voice stops him “You can’t! You touched it! Right?” He glances up, the team nods. Max huffs.

He’s playing with a child apparently.

It takes him a moment but he manages to slide it away, Charles’ green eyes trained on him. Looks like his competitive side kicked in full power.

“Do you think I win only because of the car I drive or my talent?”

“The car helps a lot in this generation, we’ve seen it with Lewis before—“

“Are you saying Hamilton doesn’t have talent?”

Charles turns to glare at him, Max glares back “I think he’s more talented than you are and ever will be, that’s for sure. You’re a machine. If he had the car he would win right now. You can’t deny the car is a major help.”

Max scoffs “Okay, guess we’re not playing nice. Go on, play,” he displays his hand toward the tower, inviting Charles to pick one. Charles can tell he feels offended - the slight pout Max’s sporting is a dead giveaway - so from now his mean side will for sure show.

“What was my most embarrassing mistake on track?”

“All of them, I can’t choose one. I’m not even kidding.”

He wears his no-bullshit face.

“You’ve thrown win after win like a rookie. Your love for walls reveals the one for your team,” he continues, not looking at the camera but at Charles’ darkening expression “Baku, Monaco, Silverstone, France…” he lists off in one hand.

“And that’s why I said the car counts. I’ll remind you that you were the one called Crashstappen.”

“I crashed testing the limits of the car, it’s differ—“

“Who are you to say I was not—“

“Guys? Please.”

They both turn to look at the camera, the little red light staring threateningly over them. Both take a breath and let the argument go. They would go on for ages if the don’t. This will be so fucking long.

“How much do you think my aggressiveness on track is to compensate my insecurities—What the fuck is this? Who wrote these?” He snaps at the many people behind the cameras, they all evade his burning gaze. Charles cackles like a hyena.

“A lot! It’s obvious!” He continues to belly laugh “He would rather crash than let you win!” He wipes his invisible tears.

Max feels an emigrane incoming. Did he come here to get insulted in front of the whole world? He’s not payed enough, who thought of this brilliant idea? Max will have to make sure to thank them personally.

“Leclerc, I swear I’ll fuck you up,” Max growls, moving closer to the other menacingly.

The more he looks at Charles the more irritating he becomes. That’s for sure a talent, not one he discovers now but still. How can he be so good at being so annoying?

“Don’t! Max, please!” The director of this atrocity pleads “We’ll cut it off, promise, Continue.”

Charles stops laughing only to pick his block, the tower beginning to look dangerously empty. They are both tempted to just make it fall over and end it all but that would mean losing and that’s… not on the table.

“Why do you think I’m more popular than you despite having much fewer wins?”

And that turns down Charles’ moods in a snap. Max smirks wolfshly.

“His stupid face and the lots of you that fall for it, that’s why. He only has that going for him, not insane talent and skills. Publicity is really important these days guys.”

“You’re just jealous,” is Charles’ weak attempt at defending himself. Look at him, behaving like a victim, is what Max can’t help but think.

“I’m here to win. You, apparently, are not,” he finishes going to take another block.

“Wow, you’re so bad at this game. Are you good at anything in your life?” whispers Charles seeing the tower swing dangerously. Max pushes his face away while he sputters indignantly. He could feel his damn breath on him for fuck’s sake.

“Do you like my cats? What the fuck?” Scoffs Max turning again to look a the camera. They’ve been throwing insults left and right and then they ask about his cats? This game is a roller coster.

“Your what?” Charles’ face is painted with confusion, did he hear right?

Max rolls his eyes, he will see the back of his brain if he has to be near Charles again “My cats.”

“I guess…? I like animals? I’ve never seen your cats, dude.”

The crew doesn’t waste time to bring out a picture of them, sliding it on the table. They obviously prepared it. Max takes it, he remembers this, it’s of Sassy and Jimmy on their cat tree.

“They’re cute, didn’t take you as a cat-dad.”

“You don’t know me.”

It’s Charles turn to roll his eyes “Thank god for that,” he mutters under his breath.

“How would you rate me out of ten as a driver?”

Charles puts the block back on top, waiting. When he’s done he looks at Max who’s analyzing him closely, arms crossed in front of chest making his biceps bigger. Since when Max had that chest?

The Ferrari driver shakes his head.

“A one.”

Charles clicks his tongue “Come on now, you just told our fans I could win a championship, what is every other driver then?”

“A zero point one,” this time Charles didn’t have to wait for the answer.

He lets out a whistle “Can’t wait to know what they think about that, they will all be very happy. You don’t have to be so mean.”

It’s Max’s turn.

“Do you think I’m the favorite of the team?”

“Yes,” doesn’t think twice “It’s not surprising though, RedBull has always been clear about that. It’s und—undeniable?.”

Charles looks around, like a lost puppy. The crew smiles at him, some give him a thumbs up. Max feels the bile on the back of his throat. This princess treatment is honestly revolting.

“…It’s not exactly that simple—“

Charles sends him a look worth of many words and picks his own block.

“Who do you think is more scared of who out of the both of us.”

“Him,” they both say at the same time.

“It’s my question!” Charles shoves him, Max grabs the table. Luckily the tower doesn’t fall but it does swing a lot more dangerously before settling.

Max will actually kill him today.

“Stop spitting bullshit then!”

“I’m not! It’s true, don’t deny it!”

“I have never been scared of you!”

Charles widens his eyes “Really? What about Austria?” He asks meekly, fluttering his ridiculous long aye lashes at him.

“Stop bringing up fucking Austria at every chance you—“

“Why? Is it because it’s true—“

“Fuck it, come h—“

Charles sprints off the moment Max’s hand reaches for him.

Needless to say, their video is the shortest one because of all the cuts they had to do.

_______

“—All that work for nothing! I’m tired!”

“Yeah, it’s frustrating.”

Charles was on his way down the pit lane when he hears the end of whatever the mechanics were saying. He turns towards the voices noticing a group composed of the Alpine’s and Williams’ guys talking. Ocon is there too, right in the center.

“I’m sure he would agree too. Charles! Come here!” One of them yells. Charles personally doesn’t know him, he’s sure he must have talked to him at some point though so he follows.

“What’s going on? Did something happen?” He asks immediately because the mechanics look frustrated and Esteban furious. Especially once he’s there.

“We were just saying how it’s unfair that Verstappen wins every fucking race! Why do we come here then? It’s useless and a waste of money and time. I’m sure you feel the same, no?”

“Yeah, I’d hate to be you. Seeing Verstappen take your wins just because he has a shuttle under his ass must be exhausting.”

“I wish you won instead of him, Charles. I’d be far happier.”

“The worst thing is that he doesn’t even look grateful! Have you guys seen him? That man is a fucking robot and so mean! He never greets us, he must think he’s so above and beyond.”

“Yes, I noticed too! He just walks straight to his hospitality. He really doesn’t deserve all of his success. Today he will win that fucking championship and he won’t even notice!”

“…You are all crazy,” mutters Charles.

Silence falls around them.

“What are you saying? Ahaha, you are just joking! Charles, we know you hate him too, it’s okay!”

The Ferrari driver shuts him up with a glare “You don’t know anything. Verstappen is doing his job, you are all jealous of him and his team.”

“Come on, Charles! What are you saying now? That car is a jet—“

“Verstappen worked hard for this and you should know better than everyone else how this sport works. You are acting like sore losers right now.”

Suddenly Pierre is by his side, Charles almost doesn’t notice him.

“Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici?”

But the mechanics seem determined to make their point and continue to argue.

“There’s no cameras here, you don’t have to defend him. We’ve all seen you after all the races you’ve lost, you were frustrated too!”

“I was frustrated at myself not at him. If RedBull and him do a better job than us then you can’t blame him. It’s pathetic and he’s right for ignoring you. I’m out.”

Charles walks away, disgusted with what he has just witnessed. And they thought he would agree with them? Just because it’s about Max? Unbelievable.

Pierre stays there “What? What did you all say?”

It’s Ocon who speaks up “Charles was just defending Verstappen like a good boyfriend. I told you all he was not what you thought he was. He’s fake. Don’t expect him to side with you, he’s just like them.”

“Yeah, you may be right. Let’s go guys, we have a shitty race to prepare.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What happened here? I swear I saw Leclerc pissed off and for once it wasn’t my fault,” looks like even Max has noticed the sudden commotion and decided to investigate.

“I think that some mechanics were talking shit about you and Charles defended you.”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t sound right.”

“I heard him. What I’m more concerned about is Ocon, you should both be careful around him. He’s saying strange things lately.”

“Lately?? He’s always been like this, mate.”

—

In Suzuka Verstappen wins the championship and his second title with thirty seconds of advantage from both Charles and his own teammate Perez.

The cooldown room after the race is really awkward for many reasons. First of all, Max and Charles are in the same tiny crowded room, secondly Max still doesn't know if he actually won his title or not and lastly Charles has just discovered about his penalty.

It couldn't be worse.

But judging from the throne ready to be claimed by Max it seems like the champion was already declared long before.

They all climb up the stairs, receive their trophies with all kind of different emotions.

When Max meets Charles gaze up on the podium it's awful. So disappointing. Seeing this perfect driver - there's no point in denying that, no matter what Max himself says to the cameras - one that will for sure be remembered for years - Charles was right about that - be tossed around by his team until he looks like that. Lifeless. Hopeless. Lights a fire in Max and not a good one.

He does feel a thrill of adrenaline too. For all the above reasons. Seeing Charles under him, defeated, will always make him feel good. Powerful. Like he slayed a dragon.

He didn't ever get Charles obsession with his Ferrari, probably never will. He could care less about teams, he just wants a good car in which he can win. Teams are just a means to a driver's end after all.

He likes RedBull, Max loves Redbull. But he didn't choose it because it's Redbull, didn't shape his character to be a good candidate for that team. It was totally a decision based on opportunities, common interests and money. Purely business and investment toward his career.

Charles, on the other hand, has always been set on driving for them. It was probably the first thing he heard the Monegasque boy say as their fellow drivers all laughed at him. Max didn't because, after having raced him, he knew he probably would make it. But, at that age, Ferrari is everyone's hopes and dreams. Be it for its history and its beauty. Tell a kid to draw a car and they'll color it red, that's what Enzo Ferrari said.

It's true, Max doesn't deny that statement. Everyone in his generation grew up with The Micheal Schumacher as an idol, Max wasn't an exception. But he also grew out of it. It wasn't the team that made the driver.

But looking at Charles, is that what real love looks like? Does love makes you end up looking like that?

Those are the questions that are on his mind while looking down at the boy, he looks older but his passion is still the same if not greater, still proudly wearing red. Smiling at his team, which does have a couple of faces not that enthusiastic, down that second place. Shoulders heavy, body sore, eyes tired but still smiling, like he's apologizing. He looks like defeat. That can't be love, right?

He should be grinning, showing the world his dimples with shiny green eyes, fierce. That's how Max wants to see him, he realizes. Happy and radiant from a deserved win. And if he loses then he should just be determined and fierce, with fire in his eyes. Glaring and challenging Max, that's how Max wants him all the time. This? Sad loser Charles? That's not the Charles he knows.

Once they all step down from the podium, walking away to go to their garages, Max is suddenly in front of Charles.

"Thank you for the gifted title, Leclerc!" Max happily says, Charles has a sense of deja-vu of when he won in Austria “At least Hamilton put on a fight!”

It's payback time.

"Look at this beauty. Do you think you will ever have it?" Max admires his trophy before looking at the other driver. Charles is burning holes into his head "I'll let you touch it, I’ll even let you hold it so you know what it feels like for once in your life. Say please, Leclerc?"

Charles keeps on glaring at him, unmoving, Max is smirking anyway. He knows it got under Charles' skin, no matter what his face shows "You finished? It's pathetic."

Max leans over, suddenly very close. Charles doesn't even have the time to get away like he planned to. He feels the warm breath on his ear, smells the sweat and champagne emanating from Max's skin, his hand landing on the small of Charles' back, forcefully pulling him flush against his chest "It's just the beginning, Charlie."

"So, what are Leclerc's thoughts about the race?"

"I think that I did a really good job honestly, I don't know if anybody saw it but my tyres were—they were completely gone, I was riding on sleeks at one point. So yeah, I'm obviously not happy with the many decisions that were made today and the car has a lot of work to be done on but, yeah...I did my best, doesn't mean I'm satisfied," he finishes with a tight smile.

"With Max Verstappen winning the championship it looks like your fight is officially over, what is you opinion on that?"

Their fight was over long before these last few seasons, everyone knows that. No one will dare say that right to his face.

"I won’t deny that he deserves it but for me there's still a second place to claim.”

"You think your relationship with him is going to stay the same even in the upcoming season?"

This time Charles doesn't make it in time to stop his mouth "I personally think it's none of your business if you don’t mind me saying," that seems to make Max laugh at least.

Charles honestly gets it, it's entertaining when something like this happens between drivers, his best friend Pierre eats gossip for breakfast, lunch and dinner after all, but it gets old pretty quickly. It's clear that him and Max aren't on talking terms anymore, he doesn't see the need in him spelling it out.

He doesn't even get it, like, it's not that they were the best of friends before it all happened. If something between Pierre and him happened then he would be more understanding of it all, the need to drag it out, to clear the relationship, the need to repair it. It would be more of a scandal if two drivers who have always claimed to love each other suddenly didn't talk anymore. That he gets and hopes never, ever, happens. Between Max and him? A relationship never existed in the first place, the level of hate reached the plateau ages ago, it can't get worse. So really, there’s no difference from how they acted months ago and now.

After many, many other questions about the rainy race, a daring reporter steps up "I wanted to talk about Leclerc and Verstappen, if that's okay. Everybody is familiar with your rivalry, it goes all the way back since your karting days and it looks like it is still pretty much alive. Was it like this before? Have you ever fought like in Zandvoort? Were there any similar episodes?"

Leclerc stays quiet, nothing comes to mind. They were kids, he just remembers the victories, his dad and Jules. Max was there in the background, sure, but he was a very reserved kid thanks to his father. The battles on track were countless, impossible to remember.

"I don't get why you would ask so many questions about our relationship," comments Charles. Complete silence is the press' answer to that. He sighs, defeated. He's really close to just say they are friends and get on with it. Luckily, the seasons is almost coming to an end.

"We were all children in karts, it was serious back then but not anymore," settles on Max, not really answering the question. It looks like both Charles and Max don't have many fond memories together. They mostly just remember the feelings and they weren't positive ones. But yeah, nothing worth sharing.

"We all saw the video of when Charles took you off track though, you seemed pretty upset.”

It's Charles turn to chuckle, he can't help it. That interview is gonna haunt him in his death bed too. He tries to hide behind his hand and act like nothing happened.

Form the look Max sends him it does not seem to be working well.

"I was but I didn't pick a fight with him, I think...?" Even Max is starting to doubt himself, look at that. He just remembers the last laps, Charles and him pushing each other off track until finally Max crosses the finish line first. He also clearly remember seeing Charles coming after him full throttle. He even had the audacity to grin like a cat that got the mouse between his teeth after that. Max was very angry after that race, yes. His father was too.

Charles sends him a look and Max brain lights up instantly. Well, Max did drag Charles, who was much more skinnier and over all smaller than Max, to the same puddle and threw him in it. Charles didn't put much of a fight, knew he won this little dispute on track, so he just looked at him with a shit eating grin, still proud and dripping wet. Max was red with anger and was about to launch into him when Jules arrived and saved the day.

"But Charles, you did send him off track after the race was finished?"

"I did," Charles can't stop giggling after saying that, everybody in the room seems to find the whole line of questioning and his reaction funny, and so they all join him. He can see Max trying to keep himself from smiling as well, pride still too high to give in "In my defense, the track was very wet," adds Charles, "and I was really upset."

"You all don't get it, he's insane. I was very wet thanks to you," Max sends him a look too "Terrorist."

"You were very wet, yeah," continues to laugh Charles. Max made a huge wave and then he was swimming in that puddle trying and failing to pull the kart out. His face was worth of a painting. That's something Charles will definitely never forget.

By the end everyone has gained their breath once again Charles is still wiping the tears off of his eyes. His brain keeps flashing that desperate look on Max's young chubby face and he can't help but begin laughing all over again. While still recovering a tissue is thrown at his face from the other side of the table. Max is still rolling his eyes at him murmuring "Fuck off," at him, Charles just gives him a subtle nod in thanks, wiping tears away at his expense.

____

“Bro, what are you staring at? You look so… disgusted. Is it Charles again?” Asks Lando, coming to stand beside him.

“It’s just Pierre,” groans Max, the two best friends are talking to themselves, laughing and, knowing Pierre, probably gossiping and talking shit.

“What do you have against Pierre now? He’s just talking,” Max has never showed hatred towards Pierre in particular, did something happen and he didn’t notice?

“In French, I hate French.”

“Mate, I’m British so I can’t comment. You’ve never reacted like this with Charles though, and he speaks it a lot. Did you notice that Pierre and Charles struggle a lot more with English? Is it because they get to speak French a lot more? With French people in the paddock I mean, Ocon too I guess.”

“Charles is not French.”

“…Okay, same thing. He speaks it!”

“And it’s different, Pierre sounds so cocky, I don’t know how to explain it. He’s just so French.”

“Compared to Charles? I can see it, Charles definitely sounds different whenever he speaks French, even more elegant. He’s unfair. Hey Charles!”

The duo’s head immediately swings around.

“Hey Lando, how are you?”

“I’m good, you? Hi Pierre!”

“Good, good.”

“Hi you two, what were you plotting?” Follows Pierre, eyes sly.

“Nothing, Max discovered he hates French, it’s a list that keep on growing!”

“Dude!” Max is shocked, even he is not that honest!

“Hey! It’s not like they’ll get offended, are you?” He asks the two people in question.

“I don’t care,” shrugs Pierre.

“Is it because I speak it?” Charles feels offended and also kind of proud. Making someone hate an entire language is a great achievement in his honest opinion.

“Not everything is about you.” Rolls his eyes Max, Lando turns to look at his with wide eyes.

“Actually we were just saying that you—“

“Me?” Prompts Charles, waiting for Lando to continue. Max elbows the British man. Hard.

“Nothing.”

Pierre looks suspiciously between Lando and Max. It’s scary how much he seems to just know.

Lando, curios as always, keeps on talking “Anyway, we were wondering why you both speak it more even when talking in English. Is it because you get more chances to? With Ocon too?”

“Oh! That reminds me Charles! Esteban has for sure something against you,” adds Pierre, excitement in his voice like he finally remembered something he was meaning to tell for a long time.

“What? I ignore him! Je ne lui ai jamais parlé!”

“Maybe that’s the problem, maybe he has a crush on you,” joins Lando even though he was just ignored by the two.

“That’s disgusting.” Is Max’s reaction, faking a gag and all.

“I have to agree.” And Charles looks seconds away from puking for real.

“Oh wow, why? Aren’t you all like friends since diapers?”

They both look at Lando like he just said a blasphemy “Guess not.”

“Anyway, I’ll explain it later Charlie but I think your hate club now consists of Max and Esteban.”

“Great!” Claps his hands Charles grinning but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t put me in the same category as that rat.”

Charles directs his attention on Max with a full on smirk “Don’t worry, you’ll always be my special hater.”

what comes out of Max’s mouth is barely a growl “Shut your fucking mouth, Leclerc.”

Charles ignores him waving to Lando before walking away with Pierre on tow.

“Il est tellement drôle!”

“Regarde son visage!”

The two walk away laughing and snickering.

“I think they are mocking you mate, it’s just a guess though.”

“I’ll kill him one day, I swear.”

In Austin Charles is pure talent. He made a super comeback, from twelth to third with a car that as always was eating the tyres like it was its last meal. When he overtook Perez he could feel the pressure in his ears, he could feel his blood flowing and his heart pumping. Those are all things that makes him fall in love with the sport all over again. Makes him feel alive. Makes all his sacrifices efforts worth it.

It is not enough, of course. Whatever comes after first does not matter after all. He still stands by that. However, he can't help from feeling proud all the same. He has a tractor under his ass, third place feels like luxury at this point. It's shameful, yes, but it's still reality. He can't make miracles yet.

He is sitting on some boxes at the moment, cooling down from the hot temperatures while waiting for the post-race interviews and celebrations to start. He's sipping his water and waving at the fans when Max is sent his way by the staff. There's a camera following him but the Dutchman doesn't seem to notice, he puts down his helmet and sits on the same box, wiping away sweat and chugging down cold water. Both their feet dangling down, too exhausted to care.

"You managed to not crash into me this time, good job. I guess I was too far ahead."

Charles already can't stand him.. he lasted a good 10 seconds.

"Since when are you so petty? Grow up, it's been months."

And they say Charles is the petty one.

"Since when are you so feisty?"

"What does that mean?"

"You know, you're less boring this part of the season. I thought Ferrari would just use you until you would run out of talent."

"Are you insulting me?" Charles is confused, he must have sweated his brain out "Do you really want another fight? I know you talk shit about me during your interviews. If you have problems you should say them to my face off camera."

Max shrugs, not really looking that against the idea of a fight. Charles looks at him go for his interview with a 'what the fuck just happened' face. Even the camera man shrugs when Charles turn to him questioningly.

"Did you enjoy your battle with Max Verstappen on track?"

"It saw fun. Especially in turn 1! From turn 11 to turn 12 it was less fun! I just saw Verstappen passing me on the left and all I could do was wave at him," Charles chuckles, in reality he wanted to do much worse but he really wasn't in the mood to piss off anyone yet "That's just proves how slow we are. I'm happy I could at least do something to not let him pass easily. I hope I made him lose some time at least."

He feels pathetic.

Mexico is a fucking disaster. At this point he couldn't do any worse.

"I mean, we are one full minute behind Verstappen's car that's—" Charles smile is bitter "that really hurts."

"What do you think about the Ferrari drivers and their performance today?"

"I haven't really seen them? So that means it wasn't a good race for them, I guess. I feel sorry for them honestly, especially Charles. I know he could give me a good fight and make it less boring, I guess. I have to actually look at my mirrors if he's the one behind, you never know what move he might pull.”

"That's— After what happened between you two it looked like you were convinced he couldn't drive without crashing into you, what made you change your opinion on him?"

"I didn't change anything, I know he's good. It doesn't take a genius to admit that. Our crash was unfortunate and was more of an excuse to fight, nothing more. Drivers fight more often than not. He doesn't deserve that car, that's all I wanted to say."

Charles chooses that exact moment to pass behind him in a hurry and the reporter certainly doesn't waste the opportunity "Charles! Please, join us!" She grabs his attention, the Monegasque looks confused "Sorry? Yes?". The two are suddenly very close. Their sides are glued. Charles feels his body recoil from the unwanted contact "I have to—" begins Charles.

Max suddenly regrets ever saying anything.

"Max just said that your crash in Zandvoort was just an excuse to fight each other, what are your thoughts about that? Do you think you were going to have a fight eventually?"

"Uhh," Charles looks at Max furrowing his ayebrows, why was he put in this situation? He's so close. Max seems slightly concerned looking everywhere but him or the camera "I didn't start that fight, so maybe that's his reason. I knew we were gonna fight like that at some point in our careers but yeah, I was more pissed at him because he didn't believe me, not because of the crash obviously."

"Max?"

He takes a deep breath before settling on what to say, he feels like a child pressured in admitting his fouls "I might have overreacted but I think anyone would have been pissed in my position and I still stand by what I said. He's an expert at overtaking without crashing, one of the smoothest out there. Because of that it made me think it was a desperate and unusual move to make at my home race, knowing he couldn't win.”

Charles sharp eyes slide instantly right in Max's face.

Oh no.

"Excuse me? First of all, that's such a back-handed compliment I don't even know if I should thank you or not. Second of all, what are you saying? I could have still won, you can't be sure of that. What are you now, some kind of expert? Vola basso, Verstappen."

"I can say that actually, it doesn't take a two time world champion to say your car was and still is shit. Even you must know that. Just admit it," Max turns to him, reporter completely forgotten. Charles has all of his undivided attention.

"Let's say you were right and the car is in fact shit," because he can't openly say that "you would never get my, I guess I can say, good results because I'm a better driver than you could ever be. Even if my car was as shitty as you always like to say, I am the one right behind your rocket Maxy, not your dear teammate," he locks his green eyes in the blue ones of the other.

Max doesn't waste time to answer "Oh, I have no doubts I could win even with your tractor under my ass and that's obvious, Charles," he says with an heavy, exaggerated French accent "because yes, you might be second in the championship but I won by over a hundred points and finish races almost minutes ahead of you, you sure you are driving a Formula 1 car? Maybe you swapped with your brother?”

And family is a territory he should not have crossed.

After that, it's just a full on battle, Charles is clearly getting worked up. He's speaking faster, slurring more with his accent and hands everywhere, he probably spends too much time around Italians, thinks Max. His neck is also taking a pretty shade of red and his eyes are focused solely on Max's. Oh, Charles is ready to make his point come across and Max will not back down.

"Well, sure, but it doesn't mean anything if I'm the one driving. I can't say the same about you though, all that extra money went in your borderline illegal car, how can it be that much faster than your teammate's?"

Max's eyes widen, he scoffs before leaning closer "Oh, you wanna talk about illegal cars? Are you sure Leclerc?" He laughs mockingly.

Charles can't stand the sight of him, honestly.

"Ah, I forgot to mention that the other half of the budget went to the big guys up there," he sends a quick look at the FIA building in front of them. The words spill out of his mouth tasting like venom.

"Boys! My favorites nut crackers! Let's all take a deep breath shall we?" Daniel intervenes, slipping an arm around the two drivers and putting himself in between. Max was about to lunge into Charles like a fucking lion and eat him alive for a snack. Not the sexy way unfortunately.

"I'm sure the interview is finished so I'm gonna take these two to breath in some fresh air and maybe a heavy drink," he gives the camera his usual smile. The reporter still in shock about what she witnessed right in front of her very own eyes.

Daniel leads them away in absolute silence from all the eyes and cameras. He finds a nice spot in between motor homes "Now, I won't ask you to hug and kiss each other but what you did out there? Well, let's say I don't want to be in your pants when I go back for the team meeting.”

Both drivers avoid looking at him "So? I thought you two were pretty okay again, when did you start fighting like cats? Who pissed in your coffee this morning? What you did out there..." he points at them "not good press."

"He started."

"That's really mature," scoffs Max.

"I gotta agree with him."

"Of fucking course you do," Charles clicks his tongue in frustration. Daniel defending Max? Not unheard of "I'm not in the mood to argue anymore," Charles sighs leaning against a wall "I wasn't even meant to talk to you," he looks away.

Max barks a mean laugh at that "You can't always run from confrontations, Leclerc. Is that the only thing you can do? Stay silent? That's what your fucking team taught you to do all these years? You're a joke," his voice is ice cold and sharper than a knife.

"Do you actually wanna fight?" Charles feels his blood boiling "Tu ferais mieux de fermer ta gueule, Max," he adds, tone lower.

"Why? I'm not sorry if hearing the truth hurts. The only thing you're good at is making excuses for your team and yourself. A broken record of 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry', 'it's my fault', 'it's like this'." Max mocks him, French accent and all "You are pathetic. You can't take a fight head on anymore, maybe it's better you go back to karting so you'll remember who you really are," he walks closer to the other.

Charles eyes sting, really sting.

How dare he? How dare he talk like that as if he knows him?

Before Charles can reach Max, Daniel is in the middle again "Can we please not do this here? Please? I don't want anyone going back home with a black aye,” Daniel turns to Max shoving him away "and you, stop fucking provoking him. What you said was fucking awful, mate." And Daniel is more serious than ever when says that. Max doesn't even spare his friend a look, icy eyes locked on Charles, cold.

Charles takes a deep breath, he's so tired, emotionally exhausted by everything that happened today. He sits down on the floor, back against the wall, closes his eyes tight and lets his head land on his knees.

"Daniel!"  They hear a voice shouting "Daniel! Ricciardo!” It keeps yelling.

"Shit." The driver in question swears turning to look back at them "You two, don't fight, yeah? It doesn't solve anything. When I see you again I hope you're all in one piece, are we clear? No punching, no shoving, nothing," he looks deadly serious for once, grounding them with his dark eyes "I'll send someone to come here and watch you two."

"Just go Daniel, before they come here," says Max. Daniel looks at Charles who just nods at him. He gives them one last glare before walking away towards the voice, still untrusting.

And now Charles is stuck. He doesn't want to get up and face the show, maybe Max is right after all. He can't take a fight. Mattia is gonna leave another bruise, Seb is going to laugh and then yell at him, reporters are gonna follow him... yeah, he's stuck.

Suddenly a shadow is over him "If you want me to punch you in the face just say it, Verstappen, I'll gladly do it."

The Dutchie doesn't say anything, Charles hears him moving around before he feels him sitting right in front of him crossing his legs.

"Why are you so down now? You were so aggressive and now...now you're not," he sounds almost disappointed, that almost sets the fire in Charles going again "It's really fucking annoying to see you like this," he clicks his head to one side frustrated.

Charles raises his head, finally looking at Max again. He looks different, more gentle "I don't get you, why do you want me to fight you so bad? I can't deal with you on top of all the shit that is going on. You don't fucking know anything about me, connard."

"It's fun," he shrugs.

Again.

"I'm not a game, what the fuck," he takes another deep breath, he feels like crying again. This is awful. "Listen, just go away. Leave me alone. I'm really not in the mood. You said what you wanted to. We're finished. Done," he takes his head in his hands, leaning down on his knees.

"Why?" Max leans closer.

"Why are you like this today? Pourquoi?" He mumbles more to himself that anything, Charles sounds desperate and so tired. Max is feeling sick just from watching him.

"Why are you like this today?"

"What do you mean??" Charles huffs "I feel like I'm starting to not understand English anymore."

"It's just—" Max seems to search for the right words, glances at the empty side of the paddock "It's like during this half of the season you finally woke up, you know? It felt like when we were back in France, when it was still fun. Now you are like shit again."

So that's why he said he should go back to karting. The asshole. Does he want Charles to push him off track again and to then just yell at him?

"Thanks, really, I needed that,” he scoffs "But you're right, I had a shitty race, a shitty car, a shitty interview with my shitty rival that I wasn't even supposed to have! You want me to continue? Oh yeah, the moment I walk back to the garage I'm going to be scolded by every fucking person working in Ferrari and it's all your fault. I'm sorry I can't be more entertaining." He lets out a sharp and short laugh "Va-t'en."

"But I thought you didn't care about what they say about you anymore. That's what everybody is saying and I saw you yelling at Xavi so I believe it.”

"I don't care, but it doesn’t mean I want to hear it. You know nothing,” he takes his head off his hands holding Max's blue stare "Ferrari isn't like RedBull. I can't do whatever I like. I drive for Ferrari, you drive for RedBull, do you get it? You are more important than the name of your team, I'm not,” Charles shakes his head "I'm really, really not."

"Then why do you still do it?" He asks, but he really wanted to say 'why don't you fucking leave them? They don't deserve you' because it's true, everyone thinks that, the tifosi love Charles Leclerc more then Ferrari itself, the team knows that. That's why they try to make a muppet out of Charles.

"Same reason as you," Charles finally looks up again. He sees blue eyes already watching him and a smirk growing on his full pink lips while he shrugs. They both know the answer. Their teams simply can't get rid of them.

Charles, despite himself, smirks back.

"Then just fuck 'em. Walk in your garage, yell at them right back and go home. You've done that before, just do it again."

Charles wishes he had the strength to do that.

"When did we went from fighting to you giving me advice on how to be a dickhead?"

"You don't need advices for that, you are a natural.”

Max thinks Charles' eyes looks greener than before. Prettier.

"Do you want me to hold your hand?" Continues the teasing Max, his smile widens and turns wolffish. Charles clicks his tongue and gets up "Fuck off,” he slaps the hand the other driver offers him.

"I'm still pissed at you, asshole. What you said was too fucking mean," Charles reminds him.

"Good.”

Chapter Text

"I think you should come."

"I think I should not."

"You have to.”

"I don't want to.”

“You need to.”

“They’ll kill me.”

"You’re coming," and that's pretty much how Charles is now at a RedBull after race party. If paparazzi see him Mattia is going to actually beat him to a pulp and lock him up for good, right after firing him (this only applies to him, of course).

Honestly, partying was the least thing he wanted to do tonight. Sleeping? Watching a film? Crying his frustration away? Those are all beautiful things he preferred doing at the moment. But obviously Pierre had other ideas, he literally dragged him to the club. Charles was screaming and kicking all along the way.

The party is in honor of Checo's home race, and Charles doesn't think he would want his rival for the title of vice-champion joining. But here he is. He shouldn't mind too much, they're on good terms, he thinks. Hopes.

He immediately spots Lando, Daniel and Carlos, they have a presence that it's like a shining beacon. The latter asked him to come earlier in the evening but when he said ‘no’ Carlos didn't insist. Carlos was a surprisingly good friend, unlike Pierre.

"You made it at last! Good! Drink!" Carlos says handing him a cup with something in it. "I'm gonna pass, don't feel like drinking," again, Carlos is a good friend (spoiler: Carlos actually could care less) and doesn't insist, unlike Pierre "Drink up, Charles! Loosen up! My god, amusez-vous!"

Charles doesn't give in, he rolls his eyes and ignores him. Alcohol isn't in his plans tonight, he feels sick just thinking about it, literal bile rising up his throat "Glad to see you alive too! I was actually kind of scared earlier today, I didn't want any punch landing on me on accident," Daniel laughs "You two were ready for fucking battle, it was some spartan war shit."

"What happened? Did he fight with someone?" Asks Lando curious for some gossip "I feel left out of the loop, mate.”

"Oh yeah, Maxy and him were about to have a boxing match in the middle of an interview this time! They were all red and angry, it was a little scary to be honest."

"Jesus, why?" Lando is now concerned despite the easygoing tone of Daniel’s voice "With Max?? How's that possible?"

Easily Lando, really. Is what Charles would like to say.

Charles rolls his eyes dramatically, Carlos sends him a look full of pity "I wasn't gonna punch him. Look, I think I'm gonna go over there for a bit. Have fun!"

They let him go, probably sensing his bad mood. Daniel is still retelling the story like he was some kind of hero stepping in to save the day and Lando is drinking it all up like a kid. Judging from his amused face though, Daniel must be exaggerating a lot.

He's currently watching Pierre dancing with someone on the huge dance floor, Charles is by the walls while talking to a pretty girl. She's exactly his type with rich brown hair, glowy tanned skin and kind face. They have been chatting for a while now, Charles was just about to ask her if she wanted to go to his room when something behind Charles' back seems to catch her eyes. Then she excuses herself and walks away.

Charles turns around.

"Nice to see the other Ferrari boy! What are you doing at the enemy's party? How did you even get in?"

He rolls his eyes dramatically so that the other knows for sure he's annoyed by his presence.

Max, of course, does not care.

"Wanted to see where the rest of the budget went, of course," he watches her strutting away before locking eyes with Max's blue ones. The colored lights of the club casts beautiful shades on him. Max expression drops. Charles smiles, happy that the comment landed right where it hurts "Plus Pierre didn't give me any choice,” he adds to the conversation to not let it fall like that. He's bored and Max made his girl walk away. Might as well. Nothing to lose anymore and he really doesn’t have the strength to try and hook up with someone else.

"Is that why you're watching him so intensely? Are you jeaulos perhaps?" He leans his shoulder on the wall turning completely towards him.

This sudden interest Max has in Charles is honestly terrifying. It never happened, not at a party and not ever. What’s going on in the bull’s head?

"I'm watching him because I'm bored and I love seeing him make a fool out of himself. Are you drunk? I don't think I have the patience to handle you if you are,” Charles crosses his arms defensively. Drunk Max is funny to watch from far away, actually dealing with him? From what Charles saw it looks like a nightmare, he’s not good with toddlers.

"I'm not. Checo is pretty angry with me so I don't want to lose control or something and ruin his party.”

"Because you won?" He raises one eyebrow.

"Mostly. Are you still miserable? Did Mattia yell at you?" Max sips on his RedBull can. Charles is convinced that Max must be immune to caffeine and sugar by now, he's always drinking one. And then they say Charles is the one committed to his team. Are RedBulls included in his diet? Why can't Charles have sugary drinks too? He has to ask Andrea.

"He—" Charles subconsciously squeezes his left arm, he can vaguely still feel the imprint of that hand, Max's eyes follow the movement "He doesn't yell, he whispers aggressively for hours. How did it go with Horner?" Changes the subject Charles.

Max luckily lets it go without pushing "Same as always. Wasn't surprised, more amused if anything," he shrugs easily, taking another sip, his eyes not leaving Charles.

Charles resumes watching Pierre - he really doesn’t want to know what got to Max to act like this - his girl is walking away too leaving him alone and stunned with Lando laughing behind him. He was enjoying the scene just like Charles. When Pierre turns around and begins laughing himself Charles looks back at Max again.

He openly checks Max out, from down his feet to the top of his head.

"I can't believe you're still wearing your RedBull hat, is it glued to your head?" He points at it when Max looks at him confused not understanding.

"Don't like it?" He takes it off and messes up his blond and slightly sweaty hair. They are getting pretty long now that Charles notices.

"You should try a red one, even if you don’t deserve—" then Charles burst out laughing all of a sudden "You went out clubbing with a RedBull t-shirt too! Oh mon Dieu,” he didn't even notice it until a light shines right on the RedBull logo. It's gonna haunt him even outside of the track.

"I'm sorry, I didn't sign a contract with Armani like someone.” Is the mocking answer he gives him.

Now that Charles feel more relaxed and at ease he can realize just how childish their arguments sound because really, that’s an insult in Max’s opinion?

"They're comf-comfortable? They're comfy! I'm not listening to the one that doesn't even own pants or a shirt that isn't blue."

"I own other t-shirts! Polos with drawings and stuff! And you can't talk either, you hypocrite, you wear Ferrari every other day!"

"Well, dear, I actually did sign a contract to wear them. You, on the other hand, don't even have to tonight. And wow, you own shirts of other colors, maybe with a pattern, like dots and stripes? That's what you meant?! Woah, do you want me to applaudir to you? Do you want one of my expensive Armani t-shirts? Was this all your plan?" he smirks stepping close to look right into Max's eyes challenging him.

"Fuck off, you rich fucker, don't act like you have any kind of fashion sense. You're not Hamilton, mate,” steps closer Max too. He lighted up like a Christmas tree, it was probably what he came here to do. Rise Charles up.

"Mate, you don't even know what fashion sense means. Are your boxers from RedBull too? Socks?"

"Mate, you fucking wish you could see my boxers. Look at yourself, did you pick whatever stuck to you in an Armani store and hope for the best? Just because it costs thousands doesn't mean it's good, Charles—"

They are definitely rising their voices too much.

"You dress like an American fan tourist, you're only missing the crocs."

"You dress like a pretentious French dick that shits euros out of his ass—"

"You didn't just call me French, you putain American twelve-year old Trump support—"

"Ah! French!"

"Je vais te tuer pendant que tu dors, cul néerlandophone... "

"French, French, French, French..."

The Dutchman’s rant is interrupted by a familiar face, it seems that whenever they are arguing Daniel must be somewhere near.

"How's it going? No one wants to put his fist in someone's face I hope. I don't get if what's going on is sexual tension but right now I love it,” Daniel pushes them both down on one couch and then sits in between them. He's slurring every word coming out of his mouth, Charles feels sick just by watching him. He almost completely missed and sat on Charles lap too. Daniel is officially gone or at least on his merry way.

"I think you drank too much," Daniel waves Max’s comment off with a “Pshh” and continues "Checo is making Lando play some music, come on! Dance!" He pats their tights, Max and Charles look at each other concerned.

"I think I'm going home," decides Charles, everyone else is looking pretty drunk - yes, they are already at that point of the night - and it's not fun to watch when you're the only one sober.

"What? No, Charlie! Have some fun! Some people asked about you!" Daniel tries to stop him from getting up, grabbing his waist. Charles gently takes his hands off of him "Nope, I really want to sleep. Tell Pierre I'm going back to the hotel, please," he gives him a smile, Daniel's eyes are unfocused and full of emotions, the personification of a sad puppy. As if Charles leaving is the worst thing that could ever happen. Charles is pretty sure the moment he turns around Daniel is gonna forget all about him.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Blurts Max ignoring the calls of his friends having fun dancing. Max doesn't even know why he said that. Charles turns to look at him and can't help but think he looks really comfy and powerful. His thighs are spread on the white couch, Charles can make out the deep line of his quadriceps, - oh my god - and he has one arm laid on the back of it and the other is holding the silver can near his mouth. Very inviting, Charles gotta be honest. Like a perfectly firm armchair. And it's fucking terrifying. Charles gulps down the thought "It's okay, I think I'm old enough to make it back alive. See you in Brazil, Verstappen.”

___

"Do you think he is pretty?"

"Quoi-what? Who?" Charles was sleeping until thirty seconds ago. Forgive him for not understanding what is happening. He can barely open his eyes all the way. He just heard an excessive and aggressive knocking, and ringing at the same time, at his poor tortured door.

"Do you think he's pretty? It's a simple question really," it's Sebastian who continues to repeat the same question while stepping inside his hotel room, apparently he decided that this fine early morning was perfect to pester his little baby Charles “Who? Kimi?" He asks purely because he's face to face with him. He's like a statue with no emotion.

"No! Why would I ask you that?"

"Why's Kimi here? Hi Kimi," he waves at him, he still can't come up on why they are here. He didn't forget about a birthday, right? Anniversary? He rubs his eyes trying to wake up.

"Hello kid," Kimi ruffles his hair when he passes by.

"Who's pretty?" Charles shuts the door behind them, he sees Kimi giving him an apologetic look. He doesn't understand why he would do that.

"Max."

"Max? Which Max?" In his defense, there are many Maxs.

"Did you hit your head? Max Verstappen!"

"Am I having a nightmare?" Charles is tempted to pinch himself to verify, this can't be reality. A punch might work better.

The young driver looks so confused, poor Charles, thinks Seb, he almost wants to keep him forever like this. Tiny and innocent. Instead he opens the fridge and takes a bottle of water and some snacks for the Monagasque.

"I think you are always picking a fight with him because you think he's pretty. Like the saying about pulling pigtails, no?"

Charles sighs and rubs his hand on his face and falling down on one of his chair "He's the one who always tries making me angry. What brought this up?" French accent thick from sleep.

"No, that's just Max talking normally and you know it. You indulge him when you could walk away like you have always done."

"And that's why you," he points at Seb "think I" points at himself "find Max pretty?"

Charles face can easily described as: confused and a little bit disgusted.

"Do you?" It’s the other fast reply.

Charles looks at Kimi in a desperate attempt of asking for help. Kimi is not even looking at him or listening. Traitor.

He has to answer or Seb will not leave it alone. Ever.

"You are out of your mind. I mean, he's an attractive man I can't deny that," he really, really cannot, "But I don't like him in any shape or form and I don't think that's why we fight at all. He said some awful shit to me Seb," tries to make him reason Charles, opening a bar of cereal thrown at him. Like he's a fucking dog, Seb even says 'catch!'. That fucker.

"I've been on edge, I have my problems with the team and Max is just using that to make me fight him. Honestly, I don't get it myself."

"What did he say? I imagine you told him that at some point" Charles shouldn't be surprised anymore on how much the other knows him. It must be because they had their fair share of fights. Good fights and bad ones. They know each other style at this point. The drama in Ferrari with those two was omnipresent and everybody eat it up like they hated each other. They didn't, accidents happens, their disagreements weren't any different than the ones happening between teammates in others teams.

"He just said it's fun.”

"Do you think it's fun?" retorts Seb. He's the one having the most fun, honestly, not Charles.

"Where do you wanna go with this interrogation? I was sleeping five minutes ago? Why is Kimi in Mexico??"

It's a good question.

"Answer: do you?"

Charles stares at him. Seb raises his eyebrows, he's such a dad. Charles wonders how Mick can survive like this everyday "Well?" He insists.

Charles rolls his eyes "It is less boring, I guess," and he's fine admitting that, Charles is almost never in the center of any paddock gossip or fight, so it's certainly a change "but it causes a lot of problems that I don't need at the moment and it stresses me out. He's bullying me and I'm not happy about it. Are you satisfied?"

"Very! I think you're doing the right thing!"

Charles deflates.

"I was so ready for you to yell at me yesterday."

"How could I? It's fun watching you two, it's awesome. Ah, I saw Andrea on the way, you have a plane to catch in like an hour,” he says while munching on something.

Charles looks at his phone not believing him, he always says these things and they aren't true "Putain!" Charles catapults himself in the bathroom.

__

"He's a DICK!"

"I don't give a single fuck about Verstappen's lap time. Give me useful infos!"

"Xavi! Don't fucking speak to me in the corners!"

"Yeah! Amazing! Mamma mia. Dai! What the fuck?!"

Those team radios, Charles giving Lando the middle finger, his intense battle with Verstappen and then storming off after the race pretty much sums up what happened in the Brazilian gp.

After what happened in the qualifying he really couldn't believe his team anymore. The race after that was just the cherry on top.

He has so much to think about because so much fucking shit happened in such a short amount of time that he doesn't realize where he is for quite some time, especially with who.

Both Max and Charles had a shit race for once. Both mad to their rotten core so whoever thought they could leave them alone, unattended, straight out of the race for more than a handful of seconds was really, really trusting and especially really, really, stupid.

"It's your fucking fault Russel won today, are you proud?" Begins Max.

Charles abandons the towel dripping with sweat on a table to finally look at who exactly was with him. He was so caught up in his head he didn’t even realize. And who is it? Just his luck!

He takes a deep breath in preparation for what’s to come. There’s no reason to fight it, it’s inevitable.

It's not going to end well, he can already tell. Max looks like he has so much, so many emotions, all bundled up inside of him that he will burst very soon. He saw that exact face right before he dragged mini Charles into that puddle back in Val d’Argenton. Of course Charles is always the perfect victim of it all. His face is red and wet, blond hair still sticking up everywhere, eyes cutting sharp the same color of the storm happening right outside. It’s a great picture. He would look sinfully good if it wasn't for the fact that Charles was the reason he was so pissed.

"I'm beginning to think you've gotten lazy with your championship, that was pathetic. It was like racing with a toddler that didn't know how to swerve."

Max's patience is running particularly thin and Charles calm and even tone is definitely not helping. Charles knows that, he has the tricks that’s make the other tick all neatly catalogued. It will not stop him though.

"Pathetic is the fact you can't overtake without pulling dirty and dangerous moves," spits out Max throwing his gloves on the same table, voice getting louder.

Charles let's out a quick laugh, one void of humor.

"What? Are you talking about your moves?" he points at Max “What can I say? Learnt from the best.”

Max shakes his head, he will not listen to someone accusing him like that, mocking him even. The way Charles is phrasing things make it sounds like he's the one who should apologize when, instead, it was Charles who kept trying to overtake corner after corner damaging both of their cars. He will not stand here getting manipulated by his pretty tricks, "What you did under brak—"

Charles, unfortunately, breaks and shouts frustrated "What I did under breaking was no different than what you have done all this fucking years! Don't come here crying about it like a baby!" He breaths in before coming closer to the blue driver who, obviously, doesn't move an inch, feet grounded, "What? You can't handle a bit of hard racing? You got that lazy?" he adds, almost whispering but still keeping the hint of anger in his voice.

Max glares down, jaw tightening, Charles can see the muscle clenching down around his spit slicked lips. ‘Lazy’ is what his father used to say whenever he lost before he began striking down with much heavier insults. Charles knows, of course he does, he was there too.

"The difference is that I can actually pull them off! We both ended up in the grass, you dumb piece of shit!" he takes one step closer, just one other and they would be chest to chest. The tension around them growing and fizzling with electricity. Who will be the first to strike thunder?

Charles looks up from the other mouth to meet his blue eyes, "I don't think so. You were scared I was beating yo—"

Max doesn't even let him even finish the sentence, he heard this same argument countless times, especially coming from Charles "I was not, you were too optimistic. What the hell were you thinking, uh?" He growls, eyes hardening under his furrowed eyebrows "Send your car against mine and hope for the best? Fucking rookie, go back to drive the Haas or something." Max finishes clicking his tongue, using the centemeters he has on Charles to tower over him even if slightly.

Charles, of course, does not let himself be intimidated, this is a dance he knows all to well. That glint in the other glance, Max is enjoying this, thinks Charles. And so he takes one tiny step closer to let the other know he will not back down, especially not in a show of petty dominance.

"Your championships will never, ever be remembered. You'll always be hated," hisses Charles, gently shoving him away by placing his hands on the other puffed chest. Max does not bulge, again “Worthless.”

Instead, Max cocks his head to the side and licks his full lips, inspecting Charles who's still staring directly in his eyes before saying "Scared you are never fucking winning a championship ever in your life? You clearly don't have the mentality, it's almost sad," Max chuckles “Having the right car is not enough, trust someone with more experience than you do.”

Charles clenches his teeth, not letting the other words get to him or at least try to not let it show "I will win and it will be the worst day of your fucking life," declares Charles rising his chin.

"If you drive like that it's more likely you end up dead before then. Try one more time to ruin my race and I swear Leclerc—"

Max glances down, away from the green eyes. First mistake.

"What is this really about? What are you so scared about? Your dadd—"

Max's lips clash on his. It's painful. Second mistake.

Charles opens his mouth in surprise and Max doesn't waste the opportunity to forcefully lick into his mouth. Tasting whatever is offered to him as if starved. At the intrusion Charles bites down, hard, and pulls away, pushing the other away from him, covering Max's mouth instantly with his hand to stop him from doing it again.

"Don't you fucking dare," hisses Charles through gritted teeth and tasting the other’s blood, eyes reduced to slits. He feels a drop of sweat running down his temple.

It was very, very brief but it certainly was a bruising kiss. So typical. Charles should've known.

Max's cold eyes appear calm all of the sudden, like in trance, staring at him. If Charles couldn't feel his labored breath fanning on his hand and the scalding hot skin under his palm he wouldn't even say they were arguing mere seconds ago.

He's so transfixed that of course he doesn't miss Charles frantic wild eyes switching from looking directly in his to down his face where Charles is covering his mouth still. He doesn't miss the way he licks his lips too, hungry, unconsciously chasing after the metallic taste. He knows that look, can imagine it painted on his own face.

"You two! We've been waiting! Come on!"

Charles retreats his hand like he was burned, making a scene of brushing it against his suit to clean it. Max grins grows at the sight of Charles' red colored cheeks and bloody lips.

That’s a sight.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing?"

Max brings his left thumb to his bruised bottom lip, swiping it with vivid red before licking it.

He can hear Charles gulping down saliva.

"Only way to shut you up, apparently. Liked it?"

"Disgusting," Charles clicks his tongue sparing him not another glance in his direction and follows the girl.

Max feels like he just discovered a hidden treasure and had a mytical vision at the same time.

He just acted. Did not think and did it.

He does not know why.

Nobody dares to question why he's walking around proudly like he just won the race.

It’s so strange, everybody prepared to settle him, let him cool down on his own, to not let what he might say to heart. Journalist were expecting to trade the waters, commentators on tv joking and ready to hear Mad Max back on the cameras. Imagine their surprise when that does not happen. Max is as calm as a lamb just born, carefree like he never has been as of late.

Nobody dares to ask about his bloody mouth though.

"Max! Today was a race full of drama between you and Charles' team radios! There's rumors going around of Leclerc standing up for himself multiple times throughout the season and his potty mouth seems to be completely unleashed lately, do you think he's now eligible for a seat at RedBull?" She asks with humor laced in her voice, apparently no need to be scared to overstep.

"I think he looks pretty good in red, don't you?" shame that it belongs to such a disappointing team these days.

"Is that a way of saying you don't want him as a teammate?" she smiles jokingly.

"I mean, he does look better in red. I don't want him as a teammate simply because I know it wouldn't be fun anymore. You all saw what happened out there. We are both winners, we don't settle for second."

"So, that's why you didn't help Perez in his battle for second place? Instead, it looks like you're doing everything in favor of Charles Leclerc."

Max lets out a quick laugh at that "I have already talked with Checo and the team about my reasons. And I would never help Leclerc, he doesn't need it nor do I want to, I only think about my race."

__

"Now Charles, how's the relationship with your team after this season?"

"Honestly when there's no trust between driver and team then it's all going to go downhill from there."

"And between you and Carlos?"

"Carlos is my friend, we discussed before the race so I believe him when he says that the team didn't say anything about swapping. I'm still happy that he got the podium, don't get me wrong. But maybe if strategy was different we both could have been up there, you know?"

"So it's Ferrari fault once again?"

Charles' shoulders go up.

"We interviewed Max before you and he said that he wouldn't want you in RedBull because he thinks you look better in red, what is your opinion on that?" the interviewer has a mischievous smile plastered on her face.

"He said that? Really?" the reporter nods with enthusiasm, he thinks she's the one that interviewed them that time before the last fight "Well, thanks? I look good with everything, how dare he say otherwise?" Charles laughs despite himself. He feels like crying, again. "He's just scared of losing against me in equal machinery and having me as his teammate,” he sends the camera a confident smirk.

______

He sees Max in Abu Dhabi next, precisely in the reception of the hotel they usually stay in directly above the track. It's beautiful. However it manages to give you that final punch of anxiety directly on your stomach.

Charles, coming into Abu Dhabi, brushed off that kiss, like it never happened. He's determined to not let Max win whatever competition they were having. That kiss, however good might have been despite how brief, how it left Charles wondering for more because nobody ever kissed him like that, he simply can't let the RedBull driver think it meant something or it troubled him. Because then it would have made Max a winner and Charles a loser.

That was not a kiss out of love or passion, it was Max exhibiting his power over Charles, demonstrating that he could do whatever he wanted and Charles would be left whimpering like a dog. Which he was not and Verstappen better know that.

Charles himself has used dirty tricks in the past because he knows how well they work regarding mind games. He won’t fall victim of them. Especially to Max. He’ll just has to fight back and stand his ground.

And even if, for some impossible reason it was not that type of kiss, well... It wasn't, so Charles cannot burden himself into thinking about absurd possibilities, no matter how heated and intense it was. It’s just a waste of time.

So, ignorance is his best card to play.

They both roll their eyes when they see each other, no better than children "What room are you in?" Breaks the silence Max.

"456.”

"Looks like we're gonna be neighbors," Max says while waiting for the elevator in a fake cheery voice "The team doesn't want me near Checo so I guess I'm stuck with the Ferraris," Charles is rights beside him watching the numbers go down rapidly on the luxurious screen.

"But it's better near me? That's stupid," Max answer is just a shrug of his shoulders "So, you think I would not look good in blue?" Asks Charles once they are inside, he leans against the wall of the elevator.

"Depends, want to try my shirt? I don't think I have ever seen you in navy, do you even own something of that color? Even Armani must have them," is that the only brand Max knows?

Max comes closer, putting himself right in front of Charles, blocking his vision.

Charles can't help the giggle that threatens to escape. Of course Max doesn't even know that one of Armani's signature color is, in fact, blue. He's so oblivious to everything else that isn't racing related. Since they were kids it has been like this.

Max looks delighted.

"That sounds like an excuse to see me in your clothes," points out Charles. Not gonna lie, he bets that his merch is mad comfy if the Dutchman wears it everyday. Charles wears his completely out of love and lack of anything else.

Max slowly rises his arm like he’s approaching some kind of wild animal and settles his hand on Charles’ waist. He follows it narrowing his eyes suspiciously. What is going on? And why doesn’t he want it off of him?

“Want to try them on? See for yourself?”

“I think you are better off using your imagination,” teases back Charles, lifting up his chin.

Max takes that as an invitation to come closer and bring the other hand on the opposite side. Gripping it tightly and pulling his hips slightly towards his own.

“I think I need a little help.”

Charles smiles sweetly - which already should have switched on every alarm existing in Max’s head - and lifts one delicate hand. He rests it on the back of the driver neck feeling the short hair there, not breaking eye contact, and pushes until Max’s face is right by his own. Max doesn’t even resist it. Letting himself be guided by Charles completely.

Charles leaves barely a breath in between their mouths “The great Max Verstappen needs my help?” He giggles.

The moment Charles feels Max leaning in to kiss him he grabs his chin with probably too much strength and swipes his thumb against the other bottom lip, just like Max did to himself after they kissed. This time, no blood comes out.

“I think you can go fuck yourself,” whispers Charles, finally looking up to see Max’s icy eyes trained on him, pupils blown.

Charles really, really enjoys the power he has.

The moment the doors of the elevator open Charles pushes the Dutchman’s face away and gets out.

Max follows.

”Is that a yes or a no?" Charles elbows him playfully instead of answering "I heard you think you could win in my car, you asshole," continues Max, knowing that Charles will not answer the previous question.

"I didn't say your car specifically but yeah, that sounds about right. I know for sure you wouldn't last a day in my Ferrari, let alone actually race."

"Why? I think I can drive anything that has wheels on them," and looking at him, puffing up his chest like a peacock, as if it actually offended him, makes Charles almost burst out laughing. Almost.

"You don't have the skills, mate.”

"And you do? You're just a pretty face pretending to be a driver," he laughs “Binotto’s little eyecandy to parade around at events. I mean, I don’t blame him.”

The mood sours instantly.

Charles shoves him hard this time, and unexpectedly, against the wall, shouldering against him. Max actually thinks it's gonna turn blue in a matter of seconds "What the fuck, Charles!" He yells grasping is arm in pain.

The other keeps walking to his door number "I'm so happy you think I'm pretty, Verstappen," but his face when he turns around to look at Max is anything but happy. The shy smile he was sporting mere seconds before completely dropped.

Charles is trying to open his door when Max finally recovers from the shock and reaches him "Wait," he says holding his shoulder "I didn't mean that, it isn't right," it's true, he might have overstepped and Charles has every right to get really angry at him.

Because Max, despite what he says, remembers very vividly his childhood - at least some of it - and he knows those are words Charles heard very often around the paddock. Kids were cruel like that even at that age. And Charles was... Charles. Tiny and cute. He was reminded of it everyday by the comments hovering around him. Most of the adults were convinced he would grow up, discover the power of his face and leave racing. They underestimated him with nasty comments, ones no one at that age should ever hear, always hugged him, always walked him around as if to show off a dog… It became more disgusting the more he grew up.

Didn't like it then, doesn't like it now apparently. And if Max thinks about it, now especially, Charles is victim of these types of insults too, underrating his talent just for having a good looking face - Max did too multiple times, can’t escape that - or a major following of females. Which Max doesn't even believe that much, he crossed paths with too many Italian boys who were more die hard fans than any other girl. The complete devotion those men have is outer worldly.

"No, you're right, I know I'm pretty. But don't ever call me just a pretty face. I know I am a great driver and you know it too."

"Okay, got it," Max rises his hands, showing the other his palms in defeat. He's really close, can see every detail on Charles' face and he is certainly still very, very angry "You are really pretty and a really good driver," vomits out Max. Yeah, that wasn't meant to come out...

Max immediately wants to punch himself, can feel blood rushing up his face. My god, this is embarrassing. Max opens his mouth to say something, anything—

Charles is faster, the hard lines of his expression smooth out and he tilts his head to the side like a puppy "I know," he throws his stupid trademark wink at him before turning to open the door "Keep flirting, Verstappen, I might like you then," Charles grins at him "Now, fuck off, for real," before slamming his door leaving a stunned Max behind. Wide eyes, open mouth and everything else. That's how surprised Max was and how is Charles right this moment panicking behind his door.

"Oh mon Dieu!" Whispers Charles while searching for his phone. He's still frozen on his doorstep with his suitcase beside him. If he was less distracted he would laugh at the scene he finds himself in, it's like it came out of a romcom movie!

"Max vient de flirter avec moi," he says in one single breath. It's a statement.

"English please," replies Sebastian on the other end of the line.

"Max just flirted with me!"

"...And?"

"I might have flirted back...? Oh god, what is happening. Why did I say that?"

"Oh god indeed! I just won a thousand bucks!" He sounds delighted. Fuck him.

"Seb! Please?" Begs Charles, he's seconds away from whimpering like a kicked dog. Fucking Max, he might have won after all!

"Okay, okay. Stay calm, do you want me to come over there? Take a deep breath, it's all right."

"No, I just... I don't like him, why would I do that? Am I starving for attention? I know you don't believe me when I say it but I don't like him, for real. Am I that desperate? It's the only reason I can think of..." he worries his bottom lip, is he going crazy?

"I think you're exaggerating. I never saw you flirt back with someone you didn't have any interest in, it's okay."

"It's not, Seb! He's my enemy! He's infuriating, he brings out the worst of me, he accuses me of shit I wouldn't dream of doing and he has a shit personality! Why on hearth would I like him? He's a lunatic!" Charles is starting to hyperventilate, he sits down on the cold floor of the hotel room "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you, little one. You didn't do anything bad, he might have thought you were just joking."

"I don't think so, Seb," he whimpers, god, he feels pathetic.

"Well... Even if you did like him, what's so bad about it?" He makes it sound so fucking easy. "You don't have to act on it. Maybe it will pass on its own, you had a tough year, your emotions are all over the place,” Seb says with a reassuring voice "And you might be right, he's giving you a different type of attention from everyone else, it will go away with time.”

What if it does not?

________

When Mattia calls Charles and Carlos to the meeting room, Charles is so fucking determined. He doesn't even see who's in front of him.

"Charles? I heard you wanted to do something?"

"Yes. I want to choose my strategy this time"

"What."

"You're a driver Ch—" someone else interjects.

"You heard me."

Mattia shakes his head "You can't talk to me like that, kid. Strategies are done by the team, you are just a driver who should shut up and listen to the instructions, religiously. You still haven't learnt your place? Unbelievable," he says with an harsh tone, a couple of members from the team agreeing with him.

Charles does his best to ignore all of them "The team clearly isn't capable, let me try. I'll take full responsibility if it goes wrong, say it was thanks to them if it goes right. You have nothing to lose anymore,” he says with ease.

His boss clearly doesn't like that and gets up, ready to shout things like threatening to fire him or something along the lines. Carlos is the one to intervene, strangely "I think you should let him try for once."

The way he talks like he's not there, the way they all begin talking about him as if he's completely unimportant, a pebble to use, makes Charles sick and full of shame.

Charles doesn't thank him after the meeting and they never talk about it ever again.

It's lunch time, just before the Sunday race. Max is having it with GP, the both of them comfortable in having a bit of piece of peace and quiet from the music blasting in the garage, the mechanics ecstatic about the race and most importantly the fans.

"You know what I just witnessed?" Breaks the silence GP, munching around a bite of salad and chicken.

"How should I know?" deadpans Max.

The other rolls his eyes, it's just a preview of the sass he will receive for two hours straight directly in his hears in just under three hours.

"Do you know the situation in Ferrari?"

Max sends him a look. Again, how should he know?

"I'm just saying, there has been rumors circling about the crazy things happening in that place. I heard they are harsher then anyone thought."

And Max doesn't really cares about rumors, much less about a rival team he hates. It doesn't surprise him that the ramping horse team has some shady shit going on. Honestly, if Charles Leclerc - the most famous masochist driver in the paddock - is driving for them then it is not so unexpected. But, well, Max isn't really sure to what is the extent of this harshness they seem to talk about. RedBull is considered a tough place to work at - just ask Pierre or Alex - and Max wouldn't describe it like that. And Charles wouldn't either, he's sure of that. So, maybe they are exaggerating, pumping things a bit for drama. Italians tend to do that, right?

"What do you mean?" Might as well entertain the other, GP looks like he’s dying to tell the story.

"Well, I saw Charles and Binotto together, coming out of his office I think. Charles was his usual cocky self I would say. I was about to wave, yeah?" He stops, waiting for Max's "Hmm," to make sure he's still listening "We've chatted a couple of times so I didn't want to look like an asshole"

"Right," huffs Max.

"And he's a good guy."

"Okay."

For the record: he's not. Charles plots against Max even by using his own team like that one time he asked them to hide all his caps. Of course they did it because "Max how could we ever say no to him? He was so sweet about it too!" was always the answer. It was a very bad hair day for Max, he didn't have time for a shower and he came directly in the paddock from a party. Charles knew it, he was there too with his own friends. His hair was a complete mess and everybody on his team kept hiding caps from him. Charles was immensely amused. His photos went viral.

And that was just one example. The most stupid one too.

(In France someone kept ordering bowls of escargot to his room until he didn’t know where to put them. One call to his snickering team and he understood exactly who was behind it all.)

(In the Netherlands, Max, as payback, filled Charles’ room with Herring. It stank of raw fish and onions for the entire weekend.)

"Anyway, I think I heard Charles say 'you're pathetic' which made me stop because, Charles?? My boy is a perfect gentleman no matter what. To say that to his boss? Charles had to have a perfectly good reason."

Max laughs, still nobody believes Charles is a demon, nothing unusual. No matter what happens Charles always comes out of the worst situations looking good.

"And then I swear I saw Binotto slap him across the face and say something like 'you're lucky Elkann wants you' or something along those lines," GP gulps down "I mean, maybe I saw or heard wrong but that really shifted my prospective, you know?"

That leaves Max with his mouth hanging open and incredibly bitter. That's plain physical abuse worth of a good lawsuit. If he felt his blood boiling when he witnessed Binotto hold too tightly Charles' arm then now he might seriously storm off and beat the shit out of the man. Max can't seem to hold his legs still. That's what Charles has been sweeping under all that confidence and snark? It's unacceptable.

It takes almost a full minute for Max to keep in check both his body and mind. His race engineer carrying on on eating, not aware of Max's crisis.

"And Charles?" Manages to spit out the driver.

"Oh, well. He didn't look hurt or anything. He said something back and at that point I quickly got the fuck away," he scoffs shaking his head "I'm not getting involved in that shit."

And Max pays close attention to Charles strangely redder cheek all weekend, confirming that it actually happened and wishing he could do anything to make Binotto drop dead and away from both Charles and everyone else in the paddock. Carlos doesn't seem even remotely bothered by any of his team nor does he looks preoccupied by their change of character towards Charles. To his credit, Charles doesn't seem to notice the intense looks sent his way, if anything he looks more determined than ever.

The weekend is completely in Charles’ hands. The strategy it's his, all the decisions were made by him and look at that! He actually arrived second on the podium and on the championship!

Charles is actually very fucking proud of Abu Dhabi and it is clear on his face. He can't stop smiling for once! That's unusual this year!

Doing the donuts for Seb, going up on the podium, lifting the trophy up in the sky, the champagne... Yeah, he's happy at last.

"Wow! Congratulations are on the line, Charles! That was a magnificent race, you and Checo kept us all on the edge of our seat. What do you think went right this time?"

Charles puts on a cheeky smile "Thank you. For this gp I decided to make my own strategy for once," many look at him with curiosity and astonishment, that's something unheard of in Scuderia Ferrari, the meeting with his tp will be very fun later "Yeah, I wanted to try and it went good luckily! It was very hard and stressful, with Checo behind me and not thinking only about driving, you know? It's something I wanted to do for the team but I really don't want to do it again," he finishes with a nervous laugh.

"Was it agreed before or did you completely ignore the pit wall?"

"No, I explained to them before. I love the team I wouldn't just ignore them like that. There were a couple of calls I refused like boxing earlier on in the race because I actually managed to save the tyres so yeah, I wanted to finish with them and just did it."

"Was the idea of confusing the RedBull pit walls yours?"

"Yes, actually! It worked very well so I'm happy, I doubt it will work a second time though."

"And about Vettel’s retirement, do you think he will make a comeback?"

"I don't know, I'd love to have him still in the paddock. I will miss him very much.”

"Max! What are your opinions on this year drivers standings?"

"I think I look great in first. Love to see Charles beneath me more, right where he's meant to be and looks best," he sends a smirk his way, Charles just glares.

"What about your teammate?"

"It's sad we couldn't do a 1-2 but whatever comes after first doesn't really matter so, yeah, that's it."

"Shut up," both Charles and Checo say at the same time. Max smirk is full of confidence.

__

"Charles! Come here little one,” Seb hugs him tightly. The AbuDhabi after party is one of the best, second only to the Monaco one. This year the protagonist is none other than Sebastian Vettel.

"Hey Seb!" Charles almost picks him up "Having fun?"

"Oh yeah, last Formula 1 party. I'm gonna enjoy it ‘till I can’t," judging from the smell coming from his cup he's not kidding.

"Kimi's here too?"

"Yep, he's somewhere over the bar. Your boy's here too.”

"Don't call him that!" Charles lightly pushes him.

"So you think of him when I say 'your boy'? Charles, this is more serious than I thought!" He finishes his drink in one gulp, turns around where there is a little table and grabs two more cups "Here, let's celebrate your love life,” he hands him one cup. Charles rolls his eyes but drinks anyway.

"He's over there if you want,” he points, Charles involuntarily follows where he's pointing finding Max talking with some girl who's making love-sick doe eyes at him. Eugh. "He saw you coming in.”

"I'll find you later Seb, say ‘hi’ to Kimi for me."

Charles walks away after giving him one last brief hug. "Carlos, I thought we were meant to go back together at the hotel," Charles puts one hand over his heart "I'm hurt."

Carlos just laugh throwing one arm around him, pulling him close like nothing "Lando took me away, I'm sorry. Before I forget! Someone was asking about you, he was cute, you should go talk to him," he places one hand on the back of his neck, friendly and heavy.

He's suddenly engulfed in someone's chest, completely ripped away from Carlos grip "CHARLES! Félicitations! Je suis si fier de toi! You will take what is yours soon, don't worry," he hugs him so tightly he can't almost breath.

"Merci, Pierre!" He smiles putting some distance, he can see so many emotions in his friend's glossy eyes. He knows he's talking also for all the people they have lost. He can hear their voices if he focuses hard enough, they know they would say the same thing. But! He can't start crying, that's not allowed tonight!

Pierre understand, of course he does, and changes topic.

"Carlos is right! It's that guy over there.”

Charles finishes his drink, hugs one more time his best friend, sends him a kiss and decides to have some fun. He earned it.

When the guy notices him he grins and approaches him. He instantly begins talking with confidence. He's really handsome, with perfect curly brown hair and emerald green eyes.

He offers him another drink, which Charles accepts, and they continue talking about the race but in a very light way, nothing too technical or daring; just pure interest. He doesn't mind talking about cars, it's his job after all and the first topic that a stranger can talk about with him. He doesn't blame him and the guy is trying to make jokes and make Charles laugh. Charles is pretty sure he's not after some type of drama so that's always nice. The guy, Nikolas, is also very touchy but subtle. Light appropriate touches are always welcomed, especially when Charles feels extra needy. More so when actions meant to be good are not really coming in Charles' way.

He'll take all the love he can get.

"Do you grant me one dance?" Nikolas offers him one hand, he really does look like a prince. Charles takes it with an easy smile.

They're on a more private part of the dance floor, where there aren't many people and the music doesn't make you chest hurt. The guy's behind him holding his narrow waist, fingers long and possessive, kissing lightly the tender skin of his neck. Charles is loving the attention. He needed this, just someone at his complete service and smitten. Charles blatantly ignores Seb shaking his head at him. Kimi seems to approve.

They dance like that for some time, Nikolas getting braver with his hands and mouth. Charles gives him languid smirks swinging his hips against the other crotch. He finishes his drink with one last gulp and turns around brushing a hand through the dark curls. Nikolas takes it as an invitation to bring his face closer, brushing his nose against his before capturing his bottom lip. Charles giggles backing away and tells him he needs a quick bathroom break. He is only human after all, all those drinks gotta go somewhere.

Nikolas understands and nods, saying he'll go by the bar in the meantime to refill their drinks. Charles walks away with a damp neck, tingling lips and hot streaks all over his body in the shape of his palms and fingers.

He's washing his hands when Max comes in.

"Leclerc, it's good to see you. You're wearing red tonight?" Charles looks down, his shirt is in fact a bloody dark red when usually he wears black or white to parties. He didn't even think about it.

Maybe. Shit.

Max approaches him with an cocky smile, Charles leans back against the sink "Congrats, you're not colorblind!".

Max eyes drops down to his neck, exactly where his own fingers had been brushing up on the podium when he was holding him, which must be now a little red too from all the loving attention of Nikolas. It all last a second before looking back at Charles. Max’s expression is hard to decipher "I will say that I look great in blue too. Didn't feel like it tonight."

"Really? I still think I have to see it with my own eyes. I have a lot of pretty blue shirts in my room, want to check them out?" Max puts his hands on either side of the sink, caging him in. They are very close. And the alcohol smell coming from the both of them is very strong.

"I believe you,” Charles outright giggles like a girl despite himself, fuck. Must be the alcohol.

The other looks ecstatic at the sight before him.

"You sure?" Max's eyes are locked on him, it feels so good. Makes him feel like a walking gold prize. Better than the championship one.

Charles smirks "So desperate to see me in your clothes? It's the second time you try, I'm not that easy, Verstappen," he steps closer to him. Max doesn't move, his gaze does drop again for an instant though, glancing at his lips. There must be three inches between their faces now, the freckle on top of Max's pink upper lip is taunting Charles. What the hell are you thinking, Charles?

"Well, someone told me to keep flirting," he says as a matter of fact.

"And then I told you to fuck off." Charles' hand trails up his chest, leaving the white shirt with wet spots, until he reaches the back of Max's head and grabs the hair there, hard. Max stops from leaning in, not flinching "Do you want me to like you?" He tilts Max's head up so that he's looking down on the Ferrari driver. Charles mastered the power of doe eyes a long time ago. He could make a tutorial for the girl that was talking to Max before.

"I think you already like me," Max's eyes are locked on him and dark, dangerous. Charles feels so powerful, like he's holding a lion by the scruff of his neck. It brings a rush of adrenaline through him. And the neck stretched so beautifully right in front of him is not helping the case, at all. It takes all of his willpower to not trail the flat of his tongue alongside the vein bulging a couple of breaths away from his mouth. Max licks his bottom lip, Charles’ eyes follow involuntarily, and continues "And I think you would do everything I told you to do, wouldn't you?" and the younger driver can see the other hands ever so slowly rising up to take a hold of him. He can't allow that, if Max manages to touch him Charles will stop having the upper hand here. He simply cannot let Max touch him, no matter how much his body is begging him to do just that.

Charles glares.

Why can't he hate him more?

One of Max’s hand manages to capture Charles’ free one. He brings it to his lips, between their faces, leaving a kiss light as a feather on his knuckles. All the while not daring to leave Charles’ face with his intense blue stare. Max looks so… vicious.

"You do like me, admit it," and there's a little smile pulling at his lips, like he's thrilled and so full of himself "Don't you want to make me proud?" Voice low and raspy.

Charles laughs in between the short space that separates them "You're always too confident," he tightens the grip on the other hair, Max narrows his eyes at him but doesn't look concerned. Rather, he's challenging him, daring him "You're wrong, chéri".

He's such a liar. But, he won't play his enemies game and let him win so easily. He has a dignity to maintain.

Max looks down at his lips "Am I?" he takes a step closer, they're fully chest to chest now. Charles stops breathing.

Just when Max's fingers were about to take hold of his waist Charles releases the grip on the blonde hair and the one on his hand. He moves Max's face away from him pushing with the palm of his hand to be as rude as possible “I don't like you. At all. I still remember what you called me and I'm not that desperate despite the rumors." He breaks free from Max's arms too and dries his hands. Max at least has the decency of looking guilty "I would chat some more but someone's waiting for me, keep trying though. It's fun."

He turns, Max is still where he was before. His shirt is slightly wet and see through, hair messed up like he brushed his hand in it a lot of times, lips stretched back in a smirk that said 'you won this time' and eyes soft. All in all, he looks good.

Charles leaves him there with a sly grin of his own.

After the doors swing close behind him, Charles keeps himself from panicking and instantly goes to the bar stand. He walks quickly, says 'excuse me' thousand times and squeezes himself in between too many sweaty bodies. He feels suddenly sick. He needs a heavy drink. Maybe three.

"Kid, you don't look good," always straight to the point.

Charles' head whirls abruptly to his right seeing Kimi looking too sober to be drinking all night long "Hey, thanks," he recovers from the heart attack.

"Someone's bothering you?"

"No no, just having a crisis. Nothing unusual."

"Hm." he takes a sip of whatever concoction must be in the fin cup "Seb is too drunk, he can't help you.”

Charles chuckles looking behind him. Yep, Seb is gone. Someone just brought the second mini Formula 1 car full of sparkles and champagne.

"He would just laugh at me anyway, thanks though.”

"Is it Max? He didn't look good either."

That catches Charles attention "Really? When? How did he look?"

"When you were dancing, I think, he looked more angry then usual."

Oh, that's actually kind of good to know. His hot enemy is paying attention to him and is potentially jealous? That's a great feeling.

Maybe he did win this fight after all.

"Thank you for the infos Kimi. See you in Finland, maybe.”

Kimi nods at him and Charles is sure there's a ghost of a smile on his face. Seb wasn't kidding when he said Charles had his boyfriend wrapped around his pinkie. Kimi giving useful informations by his own volition? That's unheard of.

Now that he's sure a certain someone is watching him he's going to play, and Charles knows who Max has been the most jealous of recently. He does notice when he's digging holes through his head every weekend. And it's one who can give him a good and hot show.

"Pierre? Dance with me?" He whispers in his ear before placing a wet kiss on his cheek.

Pierre is a great friend when he wants to be. He gets it immediately, his hands are all over him just like Verstappen's blue eyes are on him alll night long in Abu Dhabi.

____

Going back to Monaco after weeks of planes around the world feels amazing. He loves his place, his city and his family is close. A bit lonely maybe, having spent so much time around people everyday but still, it's nice. He must go to the factory back in Maranello lots of times with Carlos but when he can he enjoys staying at home.

He picks up the piano again, catches up with whatever tv series he missed, has plans to go skiing and just laze around until he can't anymore.

When his phone rings from a notification he's eating pop corn - Andrea approved - while watching a show on Netflix. He brushes his gross and oily hands on the blanket and picks it up. It must be Joris wanting to go to some kind of remote area with some nice view and take some pictures. Or scare Andrea. Same thing. That's what they've been doing pretty much all the time. Charles enjoys it, he loves to explore and spend time with his friend outside of the paddock. Finally free from the burdens of a bad race, the oppressive feelings putting him in a constant bad mood and especially the worried looks on his friends face. He tries his hardest to never make them look like that, tries to not being around them when he feels like he might ruin the mood. Would rather tell lies and act like he's doing good than make them worry. He would genuinely hate himself whenever he doesn't manage to do just that.

The text is from an unknown number but that's not too strange. Charles is in a lot of group chats where he didn't bother to put names on people.

There's a photo of the cutest little kitten in the world captioned with "Do you want a cat?"

Charles is confused. Is someone trolling him? Did his number get leaked?

He saves the number under "catguy" just to see who it is from the profile picture. And surprise surprise: it's Max. He must have took his number from the grid group chat that no one really uses. Too many conflicts and awkward chats sometimes. When someone said something along the lines of 'good race everyone!' or 'Congrats *name of winner*' everyone felt like they should write too and it was just a spam of those messages. So yes, not good. Now it's only used to share important news, organize planes, sometimes it's top tier memes about the race and others is just plain good old gossip.

-Please, don't tempt me.

-He's a good cat.

-Please don't.

-Do you want to meet him before you decide?
-*address*

Thats's pretty much how Charles finds himself in front of Max's apartment with nothing better to do. It didn't take any convincing. He's a weak man, didn't even waste a second. He should have, probably.

Max opens the door with the kitty in his arms, Charles doesn't even look at him, doesn't even want to honestly. He melts and just goes straight to pick up the cat "Oh mon Dieu, that's the cutest thing I have ever seen!"

It's so tiny and fluffy. He has jet black fur and the greenest and biggest eyes ever. As instinct he sits down on the parquet cuddling the kitty close "Mon amour, tu es si petit et mignon. Aww,” the cat licks his nose. Charles is going to kill himself and end his own misery.

"Hello Charles! I'm good, and you? Yeah it's great to see you too, thanks a lot," Max shuts the door behind them "Motherfucker," whispers Max behind his back. They haven't really seen each other since the FIA gala. By the way, Max in a suit? Exquisite. Full course meal.

Charles finally looks up and glares at him "Why did you invite me? Don't you have somebody else to ask? I'm so upset right now."

Max watches him, studies him and his slight pout and reaches his conclusion in a mere few seconds "Yeah, I can see that,” sarcasm dripping off of him "And you are the only one in Monaco at the moment that I know of,” he offers him a hand to stand up guiding him to the couch.

Max didn't expect for Charles to even take his hand, who knew getting him a cat would transform Charles? Towards him nonetheless!

Now that Charles looks around the place every thing in the apartment screams "Max Verstappen the RedBull driver" from trophies, to helmets and photos. He almost points it out, to make fun of him, but then he remembers that he's almost certain that he's worse with his Ferrari stuff.

“And they say I’m the rich one,” comments Charles looking around the luxurious penthouse, it’s ridiculous how big and shiny it is.

“Winning has it perks, I know you are not familiar,” answers the other dropping his full weight on the white couch.

Charles’ patience is already running pretty thin but he follows the others and sits down too.

The kitty meows.

"I can't have a cat, Verstappen. Where did you find him or her?" He continues cuddling and petting the tiny thing. He almost has an heart attack when two other cats jump on the sofa, curious. He pets and coos at them too.

Max watches silently the scene, waiting patiently for Sassy to bite him and Jimmy to unleash his razor sharp nails on his stupid beautiful face. Or that's what he hoped for because it doesn't happen, unfortunately. Strange.

Ha had much more faith in Jimmy. He looks at him in disappointment. The car slow blinks at him like he could care less.

"My sister brought him, I can't keep him because Jimmy and Sassy don’t know how to behave around a baby. They will gang up on him."

Charles looks him dead in the eyes and snorts "They are your cats alright. Which one is who?"

"Sassy is the one on your shoulders, Jimmy on your lap. You look like a cat tree," Max picks up his phone to take a photo of Charles who's pretending to be sad with three cats purring full throttle for him. He's on the verge of tears from happiness and sadness. "Those sound like— Did you name your cats after the clubs in Monaco?"

"Yep."

Charles laughs and then looks down on his chest where the tiny cat is purring.

"I can't keep him,” he declares.

"Why not? He loves you," Max replies disgusted.

"I'm a full time driver, I am not at home most of the year. I wanted a dog so bad but I abstenu? Refrained?" He tilts his head to the side looking up on the white ceiling "Anyway, I didn't and now you offer me a cat? That's just cruel, Max. A new low even from you."

Max feels slightly offended to be honest. Maybe because Charles sounds deadly serious too.

"I do the same job as you, more successful I may add, and I have two. My sister takes care of them when I'm away.”

Charles glares at him even more.

"Yeah? Well, my brothers are busy and my mum is allergic."

The cat meows at him, it's so fucking cute "I'm gonna cry," whimpers Charles seriously looking at Max "See in my eyes? Those are tears ready to fall, take him away from me. Je t'en supplie.”

He can't move in fear they'll all go away. He's stuck. Forever if Max doesn't take them or they go away on their own. He'd have to give up his career, what will his team say? At the moment a good chunk of them would probably cheer…but that's besides the point! He can’t leave!

Max gets up walking towards the kitchen "I don’t think I will. Do you want something to drink or eat?" He asks because he's a good host.

"No way. I shouldn't even be here. I will call Andrea and make me leave if you won't.”

"Your phone fell down on the floor, you'd have to get up,” he points at the device sitting innocently, screen down, near the entrance door. Fuck, Charles hopes that at least the screen isn't cracked.

Charles glares at him so hard that Max wonders how he's still alive and standing at this point "I won't accept the cat,” he says while petting adoringly said cat.

Max thinks this is so entertaining, he should have thought of this before. He has never seen Charles so helpless and out of his comfort zone before. This is perfect. He's dreamed of this scene many times, that same desperate expression painted on his face. This is all it took?

Max shrugs "Then leave. I don't think he wants you to leave," he opens various cabinets searching for something to snack on.

"The cat doesn't want to or you don't?"

"Definitely both,” he throws himself on the couch and picks up the tv remote from the coffee table while opening a bag of chips, he offers some to Charles. He shakes his head "You have Sassy butt on your face, it's a sight I never thought I'd see,” and opens Netflix.

"She has a cute butt," Charles moves his head to the left (not towards the butt, he's not on that level) and head butts the cat who begins to purr even louder "And why are you getting comfortable? I can't stay here. Are you hard of hearing? Too many crashes?”

"This might come as a surprise Charles but you actually can," Max says in his most obvious sarcastic voice "At least today, until you take that cat away. I can’t keep him alone in one room or he’ll cry."

For sure Max doesn't want Charles in his apartment, running around with his cats, knocking forniture down on his way, rummaging through his things, using them, putting them where they shouldn't be, chilling on his couch, eating breakfast with a bed head on his table, napping peacefully on his bed... he doesn't want Charles around, does he?

"I can't—is that Jeffrey Dahmer? Do you watch it too? Pierre said I was a mad psychopath for liking it!"

"It's a good series, there's nothing else to watch anyway. Where did you left it?"

"The episode before this one."

Max nods and rewinds the episode, he doesn't mind rewatching 20 minutes. He turns to look at Charles still cuddling all of his animals, it's very cute and wants to keep all of them like that forever. It's a very fucking scary thought because he still has that hitch to, like, hurt him and say mean things to him. It's very fucking confusing.

Max shakes his head and sees the other shivering a little "Are you cold? Do you want a hoodie?"

And when Max asks those questions he does it before thinking, because he has the instincts of a nice human being. Right after though, he remembers he's talking to Charles Leclerc and kind of regrets it.

"I'm not,” Charles - the pathological liar - answers "Is that my Christmas gift? Did you like it?" He thinks he can spot the f1 game on the shelf with his face. That gift was a brilliant idea that struck him like thunder, he felt like a genius. He almost gave him a kazoo.

Max sighs and rolls his eyes, he gets up for the third time and searchers for a hoodie from a box left on the ground by the balcony. Who the fuck even goes out in December with just a t-shirt? Stupid people, that's who.

"Yes, you managed to make a terrible game at least nice to look at."

"Did you play it?" Asks Charles leaving kisses on the pink and wet nose of the kitten.

"No? Why would I? It's awful," Max is still rummaging in the box, searching for the perfect hoodie.

"You should, there's a surprise," Charles confesses with a mischievous glance and enjoys very, very much seeing Max turn around with a perplexed and curious face, then he runs for the game like a starved man.

Charles bursts out laughing at the sight before he even reaches the gift and Max stops right on his tracks to look at him with clear disappointment, not finding the joke funny at all. He throws at him what he was searching for right at his face.

Charles stares at him still amused while putting the hoodie on, he's interrupted by the other "Why are you laughin—" Charles looks down and gasps "No, you didn't!" It's even funnier because his hair are all messed up, he has one tiny black cat on the palm of his hand the two other cats meowing - more like screaming - at him to stay still so they can get comfortable "Fils de pute..."

"I won't waste the opportunity. You were right, blue does look good on you! I might talk to Christian about your future contract. I'll make sure it's a good one, trust me," Charles does not trust him one bit, he would probably put a clause that says Charles has to fetch his coffee every morning and polish his car or something. Max sits back down watching him. He's so happy of what he did. Charles almost doesn't feel like getting mad at him. Almost.

"It's you merch!"

"Even better!"

"I'd rather die of hypothermia!"

"Enjoy freezing because I like to keep my place nice and cool," Max smirks and resumes the show.

Charles mumbles profanities in French for five minutes straight but otherwise stays quiet and watches the tv. Hoodie still on. Max enjoys that sight very, very much. He would take some more photos but he knows Charles would get mad at him and never, ever, forgive him. Probably would carve his eyes out.

"By the way, Horner has already a contract for me, it just needs my signature," says Charles out of the blue, sending him a quick threatening smile.

Max doesn't respond to not spoil the mood but Charles can still feel him fuming on the inside right beside him. And that's settles him enough to actually enjoy the episode, getting comfortable on the couch.

After two episodes it's already dark out. They haven't talked at all in two hours, haven't even moved an inch, but their stomachs are starting to get hungry. Growling very awkwardly and loudly.

"Please, take the cats off of me, I need to get home," Charles whines.

Might be the first time Max hears Charles say ‘please’ to him. Does he likes it? Not at all.

Max ignores him completely "What do you want to eat? I feel like pizza tonight," he turns to Charles who just glares at him feeling highly offended, dropping his head back on the headrest in defeat when Max ignores him once again. Max calls the pizza place.

"I hate you, Verstappen,” Charles is angrily eating the slice of pizza barely twenty minutes later. It's from his favorite place too, damn him.

"I'm sure you do, shatje," and that last word, foreign to Charles, is spoken with such intense sarcasm and snark that Charles is sure it must be an insult. Which well, Max did use it to make fun of him but it also came out naturally. Charles doesn't know anything. Must not know anything.

"Don't call me names I don't know, you bastard."

"You always speak to me in French," points out Max. Charles does do it a lot, probably more than he realizes. Except for when he does it on purpose to talk bad about someone but that usually does not concern Max; Charles makes it real clear whenever he is talking about him. Max kind of envies him, for having more opportunities to speak French. English for him is becoming more and more his first language the more he speaks it. He dreams and thinks in English, he doesn't really like it but he can't help it. He just has his family and a few friends back in the Netherlands and Belgium, a few interviews sometimes and that’s it. It's always refreshing and easy to fall back and let some Dutch slip.

"You live in Monaco, you know a bit of French.”

"I don't know French, especially when you talk so fast.”

In reality, Max didn’t bother to learn it. The words he knows are out of necessity or learned passively. Monaco is easy to get by only with the use of English. Or Italian. Max didn’t bother with either.

And also, he hates French and France in general, so.

"What did you call me then?"

"Ugly,” he doesn't even think twice about it.

Charles throws a pillow at him "You are such a liar.”

Yes, yes he is.

Max throws it right back at him “You are rude and annoying.”

“Look who’s talking. You kidnapped me.”

“You came here!”

“I was manipulated!”

“Oh my god, you’re such a drama queen! How is it that everyone likes you?!”

Charles bursts out laughing, lifting the pizza box out of his lap to place it back on the coffee table.

He licks his fingers clean before putting them down on the couch, getting on his hands and knees easily from his comfortable position.

“You really are a liar, Verstappen,” he crawls to him feeling the white leather under him, loving the way Max’s eyes are focused on taking all of him in, from the RedBull hoodie still on his frame to the predatory smirk on his lips “You like me too.”

They are face to face.

Max, at this point well seasoned with Charles tactics and tricks, springs forward the moment Charles pulls back like he has always done when they got this close.

Charles falls on his back to escape and Max follows him down, successfully trapping him with both his legs and hands.

Charles doesn’t look happy at all, shooting daggers up at him.

“Got you, princess.”

“Get the fuck off of me, con.”

“You are in no place to ask me things.”

Charles continues to glare at him, Max’s mischieful smile grows wider. Charles looks delicious like this “I’ll kick you in the balls and I’m not asking, fucking asshole.”

“If I kiss you right now will you bite me?”

“Better not find out.”

“Will you?” he gets closer, he can feel Charles’ breathing increasing in speed.

“I will so don’t you fucking dare, I’ll cut you tongue off this time, I swear.”

And Max would love to say Charles doesn’t look serious but, unfortunately, he definitely does.

Either way, Max comes down, watching as Charles turns red with anger and ready to do exactly what he told him he would do, and goes for his neck instead. He presses his lips there, feeling the rapid pulse. Then leaves a couple of butterfly kisses, enjoying the taste and warmth of the delicate skin.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll fucking kill you, Verstappen, if you leave a mark—“ he says right as he feels the wet drag of Max’s tongue over his neck before he begins sucking. Charles starts struggling hard, kicking and wiggling out.

Max lets him go easily, chuckling with a smile on his lips. Charles immediately puts as much space as he can in between, his face bright red both from fury and embarrassment.

“You’re dead, Verstappen, fucking dead. Putain, comment oses-tu me toucher, non, me lécher! Je te reviendrai la prochaine fois, je le jure!”

“Stop being a baby.”

“Stop being an hormonal teenager.”

“I’m the hormonal one? Really?”

“Of course! You kissed me!”

“You bit me! Then teased me! Multiple times!”

Charles flushes red and Max, fuck, he looks so cute, Max is screwed “That’s just the way I am, you’re not special!” He grumbles like a child that does not want to admit he’s wrong.

“I don’t believe you. At all.”

“Then don’t, I don’t care,” he crosses his arms, the cats jump back onto his lap “And stop trying to kiss me! It’s disgusting,” and he wipes the wet side of his neck with his sleeve. Well, Max’s sleeve.

Max sighs.

“Who’s the liar now? Look at you, you’re so…unbelievable?” Great, Max too is starting to forget English “Hard to believe? You’re ridiculous, Leclerc, and a liar.”

Charles can’t help the amused smile from stretching his lips at Max’s struggle in proper English. He must’ve fucked up with his head quite a bit. Phenomenal.

“You’re just jealous.”

“You’re also lying to yourself. Why? What’s stopping you?”

The answer comes a couple of beats later compared to the quick back and forth of before “I really do need to get home. I have a zoom meeting in the morning.”

Charles looks nervous all of a sudden. Like Max definitely stepped over the line, pushed too much Charles’ limits. The air turns cold.

The Ferrari driver cuddles his cats close, petting and scratching their chin. He really enjoys making them purr and soon enough Max can tell he’s back to his usual self.

He sighs again, this time annoyed.

"They'll get up, it's almost time for their dinner too. Will you keep my apology cat for all the shits I said? I called you those things to get a rise out of you, I'm sorry," and he does look sorry. Charles doesn't say anything. Max sighs once again, he knew he wouldn't be forgiven so easily “You can just leave him here whenever you can't take care of him, I don't mind and I'm sure my sister doesn't either. It will be safer once he’s bigger."

The black kitty in question is sleeping on his arms, cuddled up in little ball of fur. "Cats aren't like dogs, when he grows up he'll be happy to just sleep, eat and trash your apartment. Maybe cuddle if he feels like it.”

Charles takes a deep breath, looks at Max's blue eyes then back at the kitten.

"...I'll try.”

So yeah, now he has a cat. Trying to explain that to his friends was hard. He should have listened to himself and stay far away from Max. Now he has a cat he has basically gifted him and Charles saw how he acts around his animals. Which is the worst thing to ever witness. Note to self: if you ever think you might have a stupid crush on someone you hate: firstly, do not ever put yourself in that position secondly, please, don't ever see how he behaves around some adorable cats. Thanks you. Is Charles in love? No. Is he halfway there? Maybe. Most certainly. He can't be, come on.

He is ashamed of himself. When did the sudden switch happen? Because he for sure doesn’t remember some romantic act that might have fooled him.

Did he forget to take off the hoodie and now has RedBull branded stuff among his Ferrari stuff? Yes. It feels like a blasphemy. He already asked Max when he could give it back but the fucker just told him to keep it because he had too many of them. Charles is sure he also finds it funny that the other has the enemy merch at home. Personal merch too.

It's a disgrace. He should just sell it and make a profit at the very least.

Charles now has the habit to keep little Ferrari things on him to leave at his house if he ever has the occasion to visit Max again, he's prepared for war.

It’s almost a full month later and he still can't believe he actually spent an entire evening at Max's house and, dare he say, enjoying it. Seeing his rival, his enemy (crush??), in normal clothes and just act relaxed did something to Charles. It's like seeing a glimpse of Max's everyday life and having the realization that he wouldn't mind to be a part of it, which almost sent him in an other huge panic attack. Awesome. Luckily he remembers his breathing exercises quite well.

For the New Years party he's invited on a yacht. Standard Monaco party. Actually it's almost one giant party because you can literally jump on another yacht as they are all so close together. It's really fun. Mainly because you can slip away easily and no one bothers to find where you are.

His brothers are here, many drivers are here too but are spreads in different yachts and places. In general, famous and rich people are everywhere in Monaco at the moment. It's a celebrity paradise.

When Joris and Andrea call him to join them on a boat he's so excited to escape the sweet-talks (more like ass-licking) people are doing to him that he bumps really hard against someone and almost falls down in the sea. He hangs on for dear life on the stranger who's laughing but not letting him go.

"How can you be so clumsy outside of a car? You almost died."

Of course he landed on the RedBull deck, that's just his good luck. He shouldn't have had that last drink.

"Why are you so wet?" Max is drenched from head to toe and still radiates heat judging from the steam coming off of him.

"I got thrown into the pool. What are you doing here? Want to join? Daniel just arrived and he already set something on fire on accident."

Charles doubts it was on accident.

"No, thanks. I have to go over there," he points, vaguely, to the yacht after this one where he recognizes one of Martin Garrix’s songs "because Joris and Andrea have jet skis. Do you want to come?" He asks without thinking, it's a reflex.

"Oh no, I can't drink and drive, shatje,"

Charles shrugs, he didn’t expect him to actually come anyway.

"Alright, well, don't die. I want to see your pretty face when I win the title this year," he grins at him like shark.

"You must be drunk too then, you shouldn't drive. You look great by the way" Max takes his cold hand - yes Charles’ extremities get cold really easily - in his making him do a spin and nods to himself like he approves while he's admiring him form head to toe. Charles’ face is on fire. He's just melting at this point, he can literally feel it. He knew he looked good, he had help in picking his best outfit. Tight black pants and deep dark red silk shirt.

"Thanks," mumbles Charles "You too". And now Charles is redder than before if even possible. Max raises one eyebrow and his beautiful lips are pulled in that typical stupid smirk he always does. Why? Because like Charles said before, Max is very wet and looks very naked at the moment.

“Can I kiss you?”

“No.” Is Charles’ very fast reply.

"You sure you don't wanna stay here? With me?"

He looks gentle and hopeful. A strange contrast to what he's used to see. Charles likes it.

So that’s why Charles almost gives in when Max holds his hand tighter and rubs his thumb lightly over his knuckles. But then he comes to his senses and shakes his head "I told you, I'm not that easy, Verstappen.”

Max doesn't insist and releases his hand.

Chapter Text

New season, new car. Charles is pumped! The team has been through some changes. His plan worked out in the end, his patience paid off. They have a new pt. Binotto didn't expect that but Charles did it, he managed to kick him out for good. The look on his face was magnificent once he received the news, Charles was there, of course. He would have not missed it for anything. Some new engineers were hired, a few followed Mattia out, others were fired because of the misbehavior towards Charles and others team members. Got new people more competent and, most importantly, trustful. Charles feels confident from the many tests they have done, they're finally going in the right direction it seems.

He feels like a heavy weight is coming off his chest, little by little, with every piece that he collected all year long taking its place at last.

Finally he can walk in Maranello without the sensation of having millions of harsh eyes drilling holes into him, without whispers and mean comments about him and his performance. It's like when he first joined. They are not all completely gone yet but Charles believes in Frederic Vasseur and his project. Having John Elkann genuine full support does not hurt either. He was shocked when Charles told him to take Binotto out of the project, he obviously didn’t like the awful season but he respected the engineer very much. Still, he quietly listened to Charles reasoning and fully supported him through it all. Charles appreciated him so much.

He did not tell him everything. Some, be it for his pride, Charles prefers he does not know. He explained the professional problems and stayed away from how he felt. Elkann reassured him he would do everything in his power to help him. Charles is grateful for that.

Returning to the paddock is less dreadful and more exciting than the previous years, seeing Max again with his suit on is...hot. They have texted each other mainly (two times!!) about the cats and how Charles has to take care of Spidey.

Max was not very happy about the name, it's the first thing they argued about too. Like he could ever have an opinion considering his Sassy and Jimmy. In his defense, Charles adores his Ferrari back home (pista Spider) and one of his very first helmets was inspired by Spider-Man so yeah, it fits. Spidey's tendency to climb his curtains is a bonus.

Charles also takes Spidey almost everywhere he goes, treats his cat more like a dog perhaps but he can't help it. He puts the kitten in his pocket most of the times and they spend as much time together as possible. Spidey is so sociable too, genuinely likes hanging around, watching the world with big curious green eyes and enjoys the pets and cuddles from strangers. Max obviously makes fun of him and the way he treats his cat. Charles thinks he's just jealous that he can't do the same even though he whishes he could too.

For Max, during the off season, maybe even before that, who knows, something shifted dramatically. It all started with a call from Daniel. He told him the good news about him coming back to the RedBull family. Max was really happy of what that could mean and become in the future. He misses his old teammate, okay?

So they got together to celebrate, like they usually do, had a couple of beers in his apartment in Monaco. Nothing over the top, just to be loose, tongues free to talk, let their thoughts flow without restrains or cameras and mics shoved down their throats. It's nice to be and feel so light. And of course they had an heart-to-heart conversation about everything: racing mainly, the championship, Daniel's feelings when he didn't have a contract anymore and then what's going on with Daniel's pretty private relationship. That's when he asked: "What about you?"

That caught Max by surprise. Which is already strange by itself, that usually does not happen at all. Daniel knows Max had always wanted to put his dreams first, achieve everything he wanted to before he could maybe attend to his human side and give his love to someone else that was not, in fact, a car. The reason is pretty simple: he feels like he doesn't have the material time to do everything at once right. He will never have a relationship like his parents, would rather rot alone six feet underground than put both someone else and himself through all that shit. It’s unfair to anyone involved.

He always told himself that whoever his partner will be, he would try his damn hardest to make them feel loved and most importantly not feel like a second priority in his life. Which is something hard to do when you are constantly focused on chasing win after win all over the world. Max will not subject someone not used to it to that type of life, especially not right now when he’s in his probably highest point of his career. Daniel knows all of this. Max doesn't want something perfect and over the top, just something he can call special and feel safe in. He deserved it. And to do that it takes time he simply doesn’t have at the moment. He takes people home sometimes, sure. Messes around a bit to release tension and stress. But nothing more than that. So for Daniel to ask that? He must have noticed something. Something big.

Max thinks and it doesn't take much, a handful of seconds, before Charles' name is out of his lips.

Daniel looks surprised but then he jumps out of his chair fist bumping the air like a fire lit up under his ass "I knew it!" His smile is blinding as always, full set teeth on display.

"How?" Asks Max, because to him it was everything but obvious. He just discovered something about himself right this moment for god's sake!

"You two," Daniel takes a deep breath grinning, calming down and sitting back on the chair "Okay so, me and Lando actually both noticed that, I don't know, the air around you two was different lately."

"What? The air? Are you smoking?" Asks Max suspiciously, that haven't done that in a while now that he thinks about it.

"You don't get it, Max. Before there was this rule around the drivers, to not let you two alone? You both know about this."

He nods because it's true. It got quickly discovered their dislike and it just made sense to keep them busy with someone else. It's not like they feared Charles and Max would fight (even though that does happen) or something. It's more about making everyone feel comfortable whenever it's possible to do so.

It's not just Charles and Max. They are not that special. Same thing happens with Pierre and Esteban or Niko and Kevin. It happened in the past too like with Lewis and Nico or Sebastian and Mark and so on. It's a rule implemented even for temporary fights between drivers that normally are fine with each other.

"It felt natural before, to stand in between you two. You could feel it you didn't what to be left alone," he suddenly stops and lifts up his index finger to keep Max's attention on him "but then! It felt okay. Suddenly there wasn't any bad tension around you two, just good healthy and friendly rivalry. You didn't notice?"

Well, now that Max thinks about it, yes. Charles and him did get more 'alone time' than usual around the paddock. No one running or asking one of them awkward questions about the weather or a shit race. How hadn't he noticed?

"I don't know if I like like him." Admits Max looking toward the dark sky. Takes a long sip from the warm beer bottle, Monaco is getting hotter day by the day.

He can easily admit he's attracted to him, who isn't? Charles is objectively beautiful and it's a well known fact. Max, unfortunately, is not immune to it or it would have his life so much easier. And now that there is this tension around them, ever since that kiss. God, there are many things Max regrets doing in his life but that he doesn't. The way he did it probably could have been better, timing wasn't perfect and Charles was more pissed that before it all came down. But that's also why he's done it. Or rather, his body suddenly decided to do that without his consent. Charles was there right in front of him, so close he could feel his heat radiating off of him, and he looked so wild and fierce and hot. Max could not help himself, not when he saw that same look on those green eyes, they were begging him and pulling him in.

Maybe he imagined it all and it was his own desire projected onto the other — if that’s case Max is actually awful and takes full responsibility. But Max is pretty sure he didn't, also considering all that happened after (the party, the elevator, god. His couch, Max still has dream about it). The chemistry between them escalated pretty quickly. He's not the only one that feels this yearning to be as close as possible, he simply can't be. Charles always looked so close to give in before whatever was going on in that pretty little head of his pulled him away. Probably good sense of preservation, thinks Max. One he clearly doesn't have. Trying and hoping to tame Charles will for sure end up with bruises and broken hearts, it's inevitable.

He’s playing with fire, he’s aware.

If that kiss is of any indication though... maybe it's worth all the burns.

"Why not?"

"I just see him in a different light?" He turns to look back at Daniel, "He's still infuriating and I can't stand to be near him sometimes but at the same time it's fun? You know, to poke him and see his reaction?"

Daniel laughs "You are a little kid, Max, a literal kid."

Max then punches him lightly not liking being called a kid "Why? It's fun and something unexpected happens every time."

"Just, maybe don't use him as a chew toy until you get bored? That wouldn't be okay to do, Max, and he doesn't deserve that treatment.”

"I know, of course. That's why I'm just, you know, testing the water? To understand what I actually feel. Because it’s strange to go from not standing the sight of him to enjoying his presence a little bit. Maybe I just think that after so many years I can have him as a friend like I wanted so bad when we were kids, you know?"

"Are you friend zoning yourself? Wow, that's insane, mate," Daniel bursts out laughing and Max just rolls his eyes, what can he do?

"And what do you think he feels? Towards you?"

"I honestly don't know. Charles can be nice and cruel with me at the same time. I don't know him that much to say something like 'oh yeah, he definitely likes me', get it? I really don't know him that much, he's just always been there for me to hate, honestly. It's hard to even think about him differently now that we have nothing to fight about yet. For all I know he might have been playing with me all this time, I don’t know."

And he genuinely thinks that. Always has been like that, it was true when they were kids and it carried on now that they are adults. He has never ever felt something positive for the then little Charles.

He did want to be friends with him, he didn't lie about that. Charles was always so sickly nice, so well behaved, so loved by everyone, even the ones who lost against him. Max was curios, why was he the only one not deserving of the same treatment? Was he really that dislikable? Max wanted to have at least the experience of having the kind Charles by his side, even if for just a little while.

(Max does not have a good memory like he thinks he does or he would have remembered Charles sneaking his favorite chocolate cupcake to him that one time his father didn’t let him get off the kart until his fingers began turning black from frostbite. It was small and Max was preoccupied with - well - surviving, but it was a nice gesture. One he should have put closer to his heart maybe.)

And Max has never, ever, reacted well with rejection. Because that's what it was. When they first met he didn't do anything that would have meant Charles to treat him differently. Despite what his dad used to say, Max was never there to make enemies out of competitors. Not until then at least.

One might think that you could never hate someone you just laid your eyes on but they would be wrong, obviously. The very first time he saw Charles Leclerc was somewhere in France, on a karting track, nothing new. Whispers were going around about the two, their names and reputations already known, a luxury reserved for very few kids at that time and age. Rumor had it that there were bets being placed between parents and mechanics, sure that the both of them would clash one way or another and give a good show. They raced too aggressively compared to their competitors. Adults were crafting a young rivalry that would come true and last their whole life.

They were too talented, they said. Too fast, too daring, too confident, too competitive to get along. Well, they weren't wrong.

Max got his first look of Charles once he first stepped foot on track, his father updating him about the Monegasque, telling him he's the one he should watch out for and beat or there would be consequences. Max didn't know what to expect at first but the infamous Charles was tiny, big head full of awful long hair and pretty eyes.

Charles himself was talking with his own dad whose back was turned towards Max. Compared to the man Charles was a crumb, thinking back it was laughable the difference in size. Once they locked eyes Max instantly knew Charles recognized him, it was so obvious the fire that lit in his eyes. After all, he was the new kid coming from the Netherlands and the other was friends with pretty much all of the other drivers. He knew all about them, but almost next to nothing about Max.

Charles smirked, that same smirk he still has to this day, the one he kind of grow fond of each year that passes and dreads at the same time. He had dimples on his cheeks on full display and eyes as sly as ones of a fox. Confidence was radiating off of him in waves. Charles was not feeling threatened by his presence. Rather, Charles was challenging him, expecting him with open arms and sharp claws.

Max right then understood what everyone was saying. Charles was trouble and he was coming fast. Max would not, for the life of him, back down from the challenge.

Max is pretty sure they both spun and crashed out of that race.

Some things never change, he guesses.

"And if he did? Like you, I mean. What would you do?"

"I don't know, Daniel," he shrugs sinking in his chair "He's always been on the very top of things and I have never thought I could reach him up there because we are so different. Completely different people."

And when he says that he doesn’t mean it in a ‘I looked up to him’ kind of way. Max has always been comfortable in his own person, he built his confidence from the ground up so no, he doesn’t admire him in that way. Sure, all things considered, if Max could forget all the annoying things Charles did to him, then Charles would not be so bad. He can see why people admire him.

What he means is that in his eyes, or rather, his mind kind of began using him as a term of comparison in his life, a ruler of some sort. If some kid yelled at his face he’d think Charles could do so much better, if Max began nurturing some kind of hatred for someone he’d remember Charles already earned that spot, if someone was saying or doing a nice gesture he’s sure Charles would have pulled it off much more elegantly, if someone was not paying attention he’d imagine Charles already falling asleep, et cetera… It’s not that he’s this perfect being, he’s in another dimension completely in Max’s mind. Max himself cannot compare.

"I think you can and you already did. You just have to make him realize you are up there with him. You two are the same.”

From that day Max began thinking more about his own feelings and his ambitions. Charles has never been just Charles to him, he has been different things throughout his life with just one thread connecting them all: hate. He has never been just Charles because at first he was the popular kart kid who put Max out of races just to look smug right after. Then he was the teenager who everyone was in love with and made Max speak his firsts angry interviews that become the way he was known. And then he began wearing red and for Max it was like he discovered the color once again.

No one can wear that shade of red quite like Charles can, only a few people. When Max thought of red before Charles he thought of his dad's face, tulips, bruises, his mom’s lipstick, blood, Schumacher and Ferrari. That was it. But then Charles started wearing it proudly and it was like it was made for him, every other shade of red in comparison, if not on Charles, looked pale and grey. And the more he wore it, first it was caps, then hoodies, t-shirts and finally the suit; the more Max saw him around with red on his skin, the more he began to associate that specific color to Charles.

In conclusion to Max, Charles was not even just a person, a driver that annoys him most of the time, he was also the one who made him realize just how beautiful the color red could be. Because now, when he imagines red, he thinks first of Charles and his car.

And by the way, the fact that devil Charles plays such a big part on Max’s everyday life without his consent is the worst. He might be starting to like the guy a bit for whatever reason but all of this bullshit? Fucking annoying, it might have as well been all Charles’ plan, to colonize his brain.

But, if you put away all the sentimental shit - because that part is still blurry and confused - and try being more practical… doing that might just settle down Max a bit.

So, theoretically speaking, dating a driver is both a curse and a blessing. It sounds amazing in theory. You'd both have the same passion, same interests, a schedule pretty much similar, fly to the same place, often staying in the same expensive hotels; living the good life pretty much. And then you have the actual race side, which yeah, with the both of them driving for a top team could create a much bigger conflict then a normal and typical relationship would have. Considering also that what they have is already definitely not normal...

Could he maybe make some space for someone like Charles? Could they, if Charles would want to and Max understands what he actually feels, bring out the good in the other and create something enjoyable? Max has this hunch that it would not be too bad, not with Charles by his side at least...

"Good morning, Leclerc."

They are walking towards their respective garages.

"’Morning Verstappen, ready to eat my dust?"

"I'm sure you will enjoy seeing my back wing more, tell me if you like the design when I'm on top of the podium."

"That's funny considering you will have stared at my rear so much that you could draw it from memory."

"Don't you worry, I can already do that," Max winks at him and then looks down. Okay, not the back Charles intended. And yep, Charles is left blushing like a schoolgirl in the pit lane of the Bahrain circuit.

The pre-season testing were stressful. Car isn't perfect, the leftovers from the Binotto era are hard to work with, RedBull is miles ahead and Aston Martin has clearly copied someone else's old homework. Charles is still hopeful though, what can he do? Crumble in despair so early in the season? He’s tired of that. He just has to prove himself once again, easy.

After the qualifying in Bahrein, which hurt so fucking much, there are the press conferences with Max and Checo.

"Are you sandbagging?"

He fucking wishes, but it's funny, he will admit that. Everyone in the paddock has been saying this to him: ‘Ferrari this year is underplaying, it's hiding something important’. They are not. Just to be clear.

After the race, well. Charles feels so fucking ashamed.

"What was that? It got boring after one lap," Max finds him after quite some time, most likely busy celebrating. Lucky him. Charles already ate dinner, they are still both in their race suit for completely different reasons. Charles because he was bone deep tired and just wanted some food, the other was busy with the after podium media. Max is not even sweaty, just wet and sticky from the celebrations.

Boring. Max said he was bored. Charles wants to strangle him already. The RedBull had even its power cut down and he was still like thirty seconds ahead of everyone. Of course he got bored. Charles personally was fighting for his life but that’s okay, he guesses. Nothing unusual after all.

"Did the car have serious problems?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Charles, it happens," it shouldn't, not on the first race and not with a car you are developing since more than a year "I felt like I was in my sim, you know? Even GP got tired."

"Verstappen?"

"Yes?"

"Can you fucking not? I'm clearly not in the mood," if eyes could electrocute someone then that's what Charles' look like at the moment.

"I get it," Max shows the palms his hands "The RedBull spot is always open for you, but you already know that."

Charles decides right then he had enough of him "I'm leaving.”

Max doesn't try to stop him and let him walk away, which was the right choice unless he wanted to deal with a screaming Charles.

"So, who do you consider your competition this year? Aston Martin with Alonso?"

"I'd say Charles, honestly. He was the only one close enough to me before the DNF and considering the car he has that says a lot about how good of a driver he is."

Well, that comment didn't sit well with Charles once he heard it. At all. Not the reaction Max expected for sure. Not that he expected one, he just answered a question with pure honesty.

"I don't need your pity, Verstappen," says Charles sipping on his water bottle. Venom dripping from his mouth and eyes that could slide through diamond. They are doing the pre-race meeting with all the drivers and of course the only chair still free was the one beside the Dutchman.

It's not like Charles doesn't want to be near him, quite the opposite, he would love to have the strength to fuck with Max's head, make him feel threatened in some way. Play his cards right in a psychological war he know he could win. He noticed Max's hungry eyes on him, sees what type of reaction a simple touch can create, knows exactly what to say to destabilize him enough and have a leverage on track. He's done it numerous times in his life, a trick well learned, a mini advantage can’t hurt. But he doesn't do it because he already feels so tired and fed up of it all, doesn't feel the confidence he started with to do any of that. He's not in the mood to provoke but rather be comforted which is the last thing he wants and it makes him angry, frustrated and crazy and... it's an infinite cycle sucking the life out of him. And on top of this disaster it's also so damn difficult keeping his feelings and racing in two different boxes.

"What?"

"What you said about me,” clarifies Charles "I don't need it. So don't act like you care that much about me being in front."

Max is left completely speechless but doesn't have the chance to answer and explain properly all weekend. They simply don't mention it.

Jeddah is, wow, Charles doesn't have any words. Max neither honestly. At first at least.

After the race, which started badly for the both of them, Max first thought was to find Charles once he was free from all his duties; he’s been doing it a lot. They briefly joked just the day before about wanting to start at the back of the grid together and climb their way up but once again Max was alone on the podium and of Charles there wasn't even the hint of his shadow.

The Monegasque wasn't easy to find, per chance he saw Andrea and Joris exiting from a door looking all sad and worried and so he decided to see if the reason was their dear Ferrari driver. He didn't want to be right but there he was, in front of Charles’ driver room door with a piece of paper stuck on it saying ‘n 16 needs his 12h of beauty sleep, do not enter’. Max opened the door rolling his eyes and the moment he saw him Max knew that Charles was fucking pissed to his core and he should have stepped back before it got too late.

Max loves seeing him like that though. Can't help it.

"Leclerc, that was so fucking shit."

Good Max, add fuel to the fire!

The other driver, still with his red suit tied up around his waist - which does wonders to his body shape - whips around with dark eyes "Verstappen, don't even fucking begin, go celebrate or something. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"No, Charles. You gotta listen to me, that team—Ferrari is wasting you! It has been too many years already! When are you gonna fucking understand that? When? Please enlight me because I'm starting to think you are actually stupid."

Charles is suddenly very close, clearly furious and not ready to hear those things so early on after the disaster that was his race "I don't know if you have heard this already but I'll remind you, Verstappen. When I'm going to win the championship I'll do it wearing red and with a ramping horse on my chest, got it? I don't want to hear anymore of this bullshit coming from you. Especially you. It will take me seconds to break whatever we've built up until now if you go on, got it?"

Max doesn't look convinced.

"You'll rot away like this, I can't handle it. Consider other options at least. Fuck Charles! You're in your fucking prime of you career, you are at your peak, and you are still driving just a shiny red shit box! You have to be selfish too!"

"I love that red shit box! You don't know what it means to me! Don't come here and yell at me for this! It's not your problem, I don't even know why I'm arguing about this with you of all people! Why do you care so much, Verstappen?"

They are both breathing hard. Red cheeks and chests puffed up, not looking directly at the other.

"Why do you care so much, Max?" Repeats Charles, more quietly.

Max refuses to back off, no matter how much he wants to Charles to just get what he means "I'm just saying you deserve better, that's all."

Charles is not accepting that as an answer. Never has been one to make things easier.

"I’ll repeat, why do you care, Verstappen?"

Max seems at loss of words "I-" he stops then tries again "I care about you," he says with soft eyes "You are my rival. I want to race you."

Charles scoffs, uncaring, like what he just said was irrelevant "If you really cared then you should know I'm the happiest driving in red even when they screw me over multiple times," he states, voice firm.

Now Max is getting frustrated. It’s like they go around in circles and get back to square one.

"I get that, Charles. I'm just saying that maybe you should start looking around. It's a suggestion, because I care about you as a rival and as a person to achieve what you deserve," and what Max says sounds heartfelt. "And I'm sure I'm not the only one to think that."

Max knows he said something that finally got through Charles’ thick skull because he suddenly flinches, those words for some reason go right to his heart and sting like a fucking bitch.

Charles gulps it down and manages to get some words out "Get out of my room, you are not allowed to be here. Stop following me around just to yell at me," he then adds "I'm not driving an energy drink, Verstappen."

"Still, my bull is faster than your horse.”

Charles death stare is the only answer. He does hear him mutter something about cutting some bull's balls which does send shivers down Max's spine, not of pleasure. He gulps down the feeling and promptly leaves Charles alone.

So yeah. Didn't go necessarily well, but didn't go so bad either.

That night Charles finally reaches out to Seb. He pretty much ignored the other who quickly got the hint he didn't want to talk about the disgrace that Charles was going thru. Seb lets him talk, ramble, he emptied his chest and head out until he was completely drained and ready to sleep. Maybe having the person he despised for so many years telling him what might be the truth he always denied did something to him. Gave him that one punch to try and make him fall over. Seb listened like always, reassured him, gave his advices but he mostly let Charles come to his conclusions alone.

Charles knows the situation is pretty bad. Last years it was the incredibly toxic environment, now that that was being taking care of the car is absolutely all over the place, making him feel mediocre at best. Even the Italian journals and magazines are starting to turn on him, the ones he always thought would have his back no matter what. He can’t even bring himself to blame the car because the fault is all his own, he feels like a liar to have risen the hopes of Tifosi so high just to disappoint them once again. But the idea of leaving Ferrari makes him wanna throw up, like it genuinely makes him sick. Is it healthy this obsession? No, of course not. For him Ferrari is much more than a team, that's clear. It's all he has left of the people he loves most on this world and that are no longer here. He can't imagine driving, doing what he loves, on another car. It's just not the same and not worth it.

They hug when they are back on the podium, big smiles are on their faces clearly happy to be back to racing with each other, more or less. How much will it last? Nobody knows, could be a one time thing, could be the start of something big. Who knows. The weight of Max's arm around his waist is familiar when they take pictures. It's right then that he realizes how much he didn't notice it before and missed it. Max doesn't let go until the last second they have together.

"We saw the both of you on the podium and you seemed to be pretty friendly lately. In the past interviews you've given each other praises and it seems like you enjoy the battles on track, does that mean your fights are long forgotten coming in the new year?"

They both say a clear "no" at that.

"I'm sure we don't regret what we have said in those arguments. Move on."

"Yep, I agree. I'm still angry with him, by the way," Max shoves him at that, Charles does it back after almost falling off his chair. Max procedes to give him a subtle middle finger by scratching something under his aye.

"Does that mean you still think Charles can't drive? Even though you've said the opposite last time, I think."

Max rolls his eyes at the many stupid questions that still awaits this season "He can't even walk or sit, of course he can't drive."

"Max Verstappen can't even drive a jet skis."

"I can."

"I clearly remember you saying otherwise and you don't. We both know why."

For the record, Max was not that drunk yet.

"Why?" Someone asks from the reporter side. The completely ignore him.

"I can show you when we are back in Monaco. And for your information, I do remember, you dick."

"Can you even swim?"

"Okay, it's clear Charles just wants me to take him to the beach or see me in a swimsuit. Maybe both."

"Next question? About the race possibly?" Pleads Charles turning to look back at the reporters in the conference.

“We all noticed you, Max, seem to race Charles in a different way compared to the others, is it true? Because we have seen you fight on track multiple times with Hamilton or Norris and you pulled… questionable moves I’d say, but with Charles you are more clean and tame, is there a reason why?”

Max is frozen in place, that question caught him by surprise.

Charles at his side hides - and fails - a snort.

“…Are you saying I go easy on him or something?”

“No, no, not at all! Rather, you seem just more careful? And that’s strange considering Charles has always been a very fair and clean driver.”

“Thank you,” says briefly Charles on the mic, trying so hard to not laugh.

“I’m sorry but I don’t think you all watch the races that well. In my ten-year or so of experience racing with him I can definitely say I have my reasons. And for the record I drive everyone in different ways, that’s normal.”

The reason being that Charles likes to use his own moves, more dangerously and over the limit. He’s not going to risk his car like that when he also has to be watch out for whatever shit stint the other pulls purely out of his ass on a corner to overtake. If he wasn’t as careful he’d end up with millions and millions euros worth of damage. And do not forget what would happen after the race. Charles would let him pay in and outside the racetrack, that of course does not happen with the other drivers.

“He’s scared of me, that’s the short answer,” intervenes Charles unprompted.

“You have been a terrorist since you were four—“

“You didn’t even know me at four—“

"With the Ferrari team changing every hour almost, do you think you'll have a more controlling role this year? Or will you go back to the way you were before?"

That question definitely wipes the smug smirk out of Charles’ face. Max beside him is the one to wear it instead.

"No, I definitely won't go back. We clearly still have many problems but I hope Fred and the others have my back. Which I think they do have."

Which was a lie because they still don't have it in Melbourne. Charles is starting to feel like he really has a big target on his back or something.

"Are you not going back with Carlos? I just saw him dodge Lando," which was a rare sight, considering that Lando was having a very tough time all around. Carlos ignoring him like that? Suspicious.

"Nope."

"You don't look good either," Max points out. Charles looks completely hysterical. He has a tight smile pulling on his lips, eyes wide like he drank all the RedBull’s fridges in the paddock. And there are a lot of them.

"Thanks. I better go, I'm sorry," says Charles carrying on picking up stuff that is thrown everywhere on the floor "Good job on the race, Lewis almost had you."

The way he calls Hamilton by his first name makes Max's aye twitch, those two have been spending more and more time together. But that's not what is important right now.

Max takes a deep breath "Can you stop giving me the pr bullshit for once?"

Charles expression immediately falls off, hard lines are back in place, foreign on his face "I have a meeting for which I'm really excited about, like, you know, I feel like I should suggest checking the iPhone app to check whether, non? It seems more reliable then whatever my team is using."

"What?"

"Well, I don't see any rain still. But yeah, Carlos obviously knew that, could have shared the information with Xavi," he stops "I mean, he could have also got out of my way but that's too much to ask I think. Then again it is suspicious how it's always my car having problems and not his but, well, that's another problem. I could have done better myself, yeah."

And he knows it's not Xavi's fault but at the moment he can just blame whoever he was in direct contact with. No matter what the internet believes, Xavi is a good man, good at his job. He was one of the few people who genuinely was on his side: always warned him if someone was in particular bad mood, told him when to try and keep his mouth shut. Xavi himself was a victim of the abuse in Ferrari and that environment was oppressive and frightening, which lead to making too many mistakes under pressure. Charles knows Xavi has a good heart, truly wants to see him win. He doesn’t blame him.

"What's happening?" Max sounds and looks really confused. He obviously doesn't know everything that happens in the other teams. Doesn’t even want to most of the times.

"Nothing, don't worry. Go back to Daniel now that he's here, I've got things to do anyway. Didn't I tell you to stop following me? It’s getting ridiculous."

"Charles, please. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, It's alright."

Max grabs his shoulders, making him turn around and face the other driver. Charles looks like he's moments away from a mental breakdown, he has that disconnected and unfocused eyes that are beginning to scare Max.

"It's okay to not be fine, Charles. It's not always your fault," Max tries to reassure Charles, doing his damn hardest to not mention his team, to not yell the many profanities that are bubbling inside his gut seconds after seconds seeing Charles looks so...broken.

"Of course it was," Charles looks away and then gets away from Max weak grip. He did it for Charles to not feel caged in but now he kind of regrets it. He feels the need to hold him tighter. "I should have pushed more when I had the chance and I blew it. Carlos did his job and I didn't do mine."

Max shakes his head "That's not what it sounded like," he's putting the pieces together inside his head, linking every chunk of information he heard passively around the paddock and what Charles told him earlier "Sainz did something against you, again."

"It's not Carlos’ fault entirely, I don't think so at least, I don't know," Charles shakes his head "I don't know."

Max doesn't know what to say or do. Everything in him is screaming to yell at Charles, make him understand, lift his spirits up or maybe make him angry like he's used to do. That way Charles can let himself loose and empty his chest out. Max doesn't mind Charles screaming at him or be used like a punching bag. They have done this dance all their life long, he's an expert in the subject.

A little part of Max though, that one is telling him that Charles doesn't need more stress added to him, he's probably full of it from the briefing and interviews he just had. Judging from Charles' trembling hands and scattered eyes unable to focus on packing his bag… Max thinks that maybe this time he should listen to this tiny part.

Without thinking too much about it he reaches out, takes hold of Charles' unsteady hands in one of his. With the other arm he circles it around Charles' shoulders which tense up even more at the contact "What are you doing?" He's looking at Max like grew three heads.

"What does it look like?"

Max pulls until Charles' torso is flush against his chest - surprisingly without any struggle - and pushes his head until it is sitting between the juncture of Max's neck and shoulder.

Charles doesn't seem very relaxed, Max suddenly feels not so confident anymore. He's kind of scared the other will just bite him or something.

But then, when Max was about to just let him go, the Monegasque takes a deep breath in like it is the first of today to fills his lungs. He breaks free from Max’s hold on his hands and returns the hug fully, squeezing his waist and sinking into Max's embrace. Finally, he lets the breath he took before go.

And Max holds him tighter, resting his chin on top of the other fluffy golden brown hair, supporting all of his weight, as Charles' strength, little by little, drains out of him.

They stay like that for what might as well be hours, in peaceful silence. The only thing that can be heard is Charles' breathing. Max doesn't complain once and just holds him.

(“Can I kiss you?”

“You cannot.”)

The Sunday race, well, it got messy to say the least. Max didn't have the opportunity to actually see Charles. Not even on parc fermé. That race was a pandemonium for everybody and Charles just disappeared at some point.

Max did send him a text asking him if he needed anything, he knows first hand what having two consecutive DNF feels like, but the other didn't answer. Which was fine, Max didn't take it personally. The other always had this bad habit of disappearing and Max can relate.

Charles flew away from Australia at the first chance he got. Carlos too. He obviously was very, very disappointed. They weren't the only one to have a shit race though. Pierre was with Charles, supporting one another. That's the only thing they can do in moments like these.

Charles was really, really tired.

The two of them stayed silent for a couple of days after all that. Not that they talked much to begin with apart from Max’s new habit of seeking him out after races. Charles stayed at home, on his boat, just recharging the batteries that quickly ran out in as little as three races. Overviewed the upgrades that were being made on the car, practiced days on the simulator, talked with Fred... Max and Charles saw each other in Monaco. Sometimes Max come over for a little while but Charles wasn't in the mood most of the times so Max left him alone, sometimes feeling frustrated, others in the hopes of having his rival back.

Max left also for his own good, his selfish side was taking over. Because seeing a driver, a good driver like Charles just helpless, staring at walls caught up in his own head. Still thinking about the race, about corners and breaking points, what steering wheel angle he should have used, what better exit could have made him gain that millisecond. It's not healthy, not even for the one watching you spiraling away in your own mind.

Seeing those empty pools of green it's... unsettling, it makes Max feel anxious, can see himself ending up like that. Hearing the same melody on the piano, getting faster and faster, harder and more confusing, over and over again. Max could feel his heartbeat reaching a rhythm he never thought was possible. Those are the times where he had to get away as fast as he could until he could finally breath again.

Charles doesn't even realizes he never said goodbye to him.

Coming into Baku the spirits are better, they are all burning with desire to get back on track even with the new stupid format of the sprint races.

Ferrari doesn't bring any big upgrades but Charles Leclerc manages to turn the confidence gained in the month off into two pole positions. It's very nice to be back on the routines of ‘the winners’. The interviews, the photos... very nice. Also, Max doesn't leave his side, genuinely happy to have his rival apparently back on the right track. At least he doesn't complain about the media activities as much, his team is enthusiastic about that. He is quick to put an arm around Charles’ waist if given the opportunity, to engage in a conversation — keeping Charles’s attention on him and how great the Monegasque’ performance was, to make him laugh and smile.

(“You know, I don’t know how you do these miracles with that tractor you have, especially in Baku.”

“I don’t know either, honestly. I’m just that good, I guess.”

“You guess? Are you being humble right now?”

“Maybe, not that you even know what that means…”

“I’m being nice and you attack me? You’re so mean!”

“I might be mean, Verstappen, but I’m certainly not stupid. What do you want?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“No.”)

It's upsetting seeing, knowing, your car is not fast and good enough to keep the position though. Charle tries, pushes his foot down the pedal, but like he expected the RedBull is back in front of him at the first chance it gets. Not Max's strangely but it's clear why when he watches Max looking at his car almost in pain for it and then the 'conversation' he has with Russel on parc fermé. It's very funny, Charles is sure Max is summoning all of his willpower to keep his hands off the other driver.

He offers Max a wink when they lock eyes because he's a little shit.

And also because it's fun seeing the exchange from another prospective for once.

Max sends him a sarcastic and tight smile.

Charles grins at that sight.

That day Max is declared unapproachable, still upset about seeing his dear car sliced open.

Charles looks around the paddock amused. The laughter stops from Max's side of the garage, GP and Horner look like they already had enough and want to retire. It’s all so entertaining.

Charles does not even think about going to him. Happy that he is not being yelled at. And, of course, wouldn't even know what to say to him — his race was perfect even when he had a broken car. If Max is angry that it got scratched then he can go cry about it alone, he's a big boy and will get over it.

George Russel on the other hand looks scared shitless for his life and Charles bursts out laughing whenever he sees him. Are they really all that scared of an angry Verstappen??

(“—Max, if you got lazy—“

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you fucking are!” The man shoves Max against the wall hard, the boy hisses at the impact “I didn’t raise you like this, that was a rookie mistake, Max! I did not pour my entire being into making you for you to be this careless—“

“It’s just a sprint—“ a punch lands right into his gut, knocking the wind out of him.

“The moment you start thinking like this you are dead. Hoor je mij?”he whispers low and sounding dangerous.

“Ja, vader,” Max manages to wheeze out.

“Max!”

The duo’s head whip around at the sound of Charles’ voice.

”Not now, Leclerc,” Max still sounds out of breath, the fist still in his abdomen digging in further.

“I was looking for you! I wanted to ask you about your racing lines because my team just showed me the last turn and—“

“Kid, we were having a conversation, if you don’t mind,” Jos Verstappen red face and icy stare is directed at him now. Charles doesn’t back down.

“And I just started one, if you don’t mind.”

Jos steps out, his fist returning by his side. Max finally manages to quickly regain his breath.

”Listen Leclerc, go back being the paddock bitch or whatever it is that you do. This is between me and my son. So, get the fuck away.”

”I think your son should not listen to someone who has never won a race in his entire career. He’s a champion and you are… not.”

”Charles—“

”Ik zal je een lesje geven, jij verdomde Franse idioot—”

“Papa, niet doen. We praten later.”

”No, let him talk! Please! I think he has a lot to say!”

“Shut up,” hisses Max “Hij is het niet waard.”

Between father and son begins a stare down, blue against blue, both glacial. It doesn’t last long though, Jos clicks his tongue and sighs shortly after “I better not see your face soon, Max. You are dead.”

“He is so warm!” Exclaims Charles with a surprised laugh.

Charles was ready to fight to be honest .

“Shut the fuck up. What was that? Why are you here?”

“I should ask you that. Why do you let him? You don’t need him.”

“He made me who I am—“

”No, he fucking did not. We would not be talking otherwise.”

“He raised me and gave me all the opportunities to become a champion. I won’t leave him and I can handle him.”

“I know you can, you’ve been doing it all your life. Doesn’t mean you have to,” tries to make him reason Charles.

Max doesn’t seem to be willing to listen to him “Look, I’m sorry he said those things about you,” and he genuinely does look sorry.

“I don’t care and you shouldn’t either. He’s awful, Max.”

“He’s all I ever had.”

“That’s not true.”

“Leclerc.”

“I just hope you don’t believe whatever bullshit he spits. You’re a better driver and person he could ever dream to be.”)

(“Are you okay?” Charles holds his nape, his touch kind and warm.

“I’m fine,” Max has a little smile playing on his lips “Thank you.” Max’s blue eyes are definitely prettier and bluer than his.)

The real race was pretty boring and uneventful, almost predictable. Of course the RedBulls overtake Charles at the first straight and fly away, there wasn't much he could do to prevent that, just survive and keep his third position. Which he did luckily.

”I'll drown you," says Max passing by.

Charles doesn't get what he meant, and thinking back he should have honestly, until he finds himself covered in sticky champagne down his back and underwear "You took my place on the podium and I became monegasque!"

"What?" Is Charles question while they all climb down.

"You went on the wrong step Charles, on the podium! You had the Dutch flag over your head!"  Max dies laughing watching all color drain from Charles’ stunned face.

Chapter Text

There's many things that Charles didn't ever expect to happen in his life, being in a group chat with Max and Max's sister - Victoria - is one of them.

Like Max suggested, Charles left Spidey in Monaco. Precisely in Max's house. Victoria is the one that mainly takes care of the three cats. Bringing them food, cleans the litter box and in general supervise them. Jimmy and Sassy are a little too wild sometimes and that's why Spidey is pretty much confined to one large room, which means he gets lonely and starts crying. He's free to roam only when Vic is there.

The group chat is to keep the owners updated. She's honestly an angel, nothing like Max personality wise. She's still Dutch so the bluntness is there but she's also sweet and so kind towards Charles. And her kids— Charles would die for them. They are like mini nice Maxs, with big blue eyes and cute cheeks and call him 'Cha'. Charles nearly weeps. Anyways, she sends them photos and videos of the cats everyday.

Max was actually kind of scared at first. They briefly met in person a couple of times when he dropped Spidey off but it was clear right off the bat to him that Vic and Charles would start ganging up on him. Charles thinks it's awesome, making fun of Max and having someone to back him up. She's also great because she constantly tells Charles little facts or funny episodes from Max childhood. Black mail material is always great to have.

Now Max can just accept his fate and watches them exchange messages on the chat. If his face is a little bit fond then no one needs to know.

Last time Charles and Max were in a conference together their phones got a notification at the same time. They weren't being questioned so it was fine if they quickly looked at whatever it was. Or better, they deemed it fine, pr team not so much. Turns out Vic sent them a funny photo of Sassy on top of Spidey - they were fighting for sure - on top of Max's brand new PlayStation. Her caption was also very funny and...colorful.

When Charles turned towards Max he was as white as a sheet, Charles couldn't stop giggling. Max laughed too whenever he heard Charles struggling to stay quiet on his seat, hearing squeals and coughs to hide his laughing fits.

"Are you done?" Asked him Max once they were being escorted away.

It made Charles laugh even more. His tummy hurt so bad at that point he felt like he was gonna throw up.

Max frowned at him "Are you even breathing?"

"Your face," managed to wheeze out Charles, he got curious glances from his pr team following him.

"I'll unleash Jimmy and Sassy inside your Pista and then you'll understand what it feels like."

"You would never!" Charles looks horrified.

Max turns around and deadly serious he replies “Try me."

—

"I miss Spidey, mon petit, look at what you have done. Sei proprio cattivo.”

Max turns to look at him exasperated, he will blame him forever, won't he?  "It has been just three weeks," Charles is gazing at his lock screen sadly. Max can see a cute picture of the black kitten in a sea of white candid sheets under the Monaco sun.

They are currently at the bar of the hotel, Andrea and Charles met Max and GP while ordering coffee and some light breakfast. They were so sleepy that they nearly didn't even notice the other. They all agreed to sit down in complete silence on the first table available they saw.

Charles pouts and drinks his juice, because he hates coffee. Rather, he likes his cappuccinos and macchiatos with lots of sugar, but unless he can have a bathroom break every two hours then it's not ideal. Milk and coffee are not a good combo for him and his stomach. He leans to his side against Andrea's shoulder who's answering emails completely ignoring them. Same as Lambiase, both busier than the drivers it seems.

"I'm starting to notice you're more touchy than Lando when he's drunk. And he hugs every living thing that he meets."

Charles takes his eyes off of the sunrise happening out of the windows to focus on him. He was about to shut his eyes, he is so tired "I like it, makes me feel good," he mumbles "And you are too confident when drunk," Charles sends him a look, remembering that night in Mexico and Monaco. Max turns bright red.

"He's like this with everyone in the morning. The rest of the day only if your name is 'Vettel' or 'Pierre', otherwise he doesn't even look at you. With me you are just annoying," adds Andrea to the conversation, still looking at his phone.

"That's not true," Charles proceeds to hug his friend tight. Andrea slaps him away "Hamilton might join the circle soon too..." teases his trainer raising his ayebrows up and down with a smirk. Charles covers his face suddenly red in the face "Shut up!!!" He whines, Andrea just laughs. Max might be going through a minor aneurism.

"By the way, I saw you and Pierre getting all cozy in your driver room. It was cute, dei cuccioli."

"Do you want to tell them anything else?" Asks sarcastically Charles elbowing Andrea who groans at the attack.

"You're that close with Gasly?" Can't help but ask Max. He understands they know each other since forever but that seems a bit much. He doesn't do that with his friends, even just hugging for too long feels not right... is he the strange one? Then the two of them dancing that night in Mexico come back to his mind, again. And the many times he saw them together around the paddock... Yeah, they are close. Really close.

Max feels a sudden weight on his belly.

"I love Pierre, we cuddle all the time. Like I said, it feels good. Why? Are you jealous?"

A little bit, but Max doesn't say that.

Charles sighs then, not expecting an answer any time soon, and puts his arms on the table before laying his head on top.

Andrea ruffles his hair and chuckles fondly at him "You better wake up before the meeting,” Charles moans sadly in response.

Okay, Max might be more than a little bit jealous. It's not his fault though, Charles looks extra cuddly and warm early on the mornings. That's an information that Max honestly didn't want to have purely for his mental sanity.

GP tries to do the same to Max's hair with a smirk that quickly vanishes "You're no fun."

After the free practices (which were shit) and the many activities that there are in Miami Charles is completely beat. He still has to get used to the routine. The brief football match surely didn’t help, nor did the other hundred challenges they had to film. They are fun in the moment but he always ends up paying the price at the end of the day. He really should stop trying so hard to win them.

He flops on the bed of his hotel room with barely open eyes and falls asleep before he even touches the pillow. He wakes up from his dreamless sleep only because of someone’s shouting from the room above him. He sounds like a twelve year old kid playing Fortnite on Twitch.

He still feels incredibly tired and tries to shield the voice with his pillow but nothing. He can still hear it and it's annoying. With how much they pay for these rooms one would think they'd be soundproof, but clearly they are not. He pays attention to the words and quickly realize that it's not English but it sounds very familiar to Max's voice whenever he's speaking Dutch. Not a twelve year old but close enough.

Having Vic as a friend now means listening to the both of them arguing quite often. He has a new set of skills to add to his curriculum. He still can’t understand shit.

So Charles decides to get up and scold the other. If it's just an excuses to see the RedBull driver before the weekend officially begins then that's just for Charles to know. He puts on a thick hoodie, feeling kind of chilly, and some slippers.

When he knocks on the door that (hopefully) is Max's the other opens after making him wait several minutes. The fucker. He was already falling asleep on his doorstep.

Charles invites himself in and looks at the other dead in the eyes. The Dutchman has headphones on his head and a controller in one hand.

Like Charles suspected the driver was in fact playing. A child.

"Your screaming woke me up from my nap!" He accuses before stomping his way in and sitting down on his bed angrily staring at the tv. Cod game paused. At least it's not Fortnite.

"I'm sorry? I'll keep it down."

"You bring your whole gaming system to every race?"

Max looks at the door and then back at him, he sits down besides him on the fluffy comforter on the edge of the bed where he was before, he's still confused as to why Charles came here like he owns this room. Max is not complaining, but a tired Charles, he's starting to understand, is more of a drama queen than usual.

"Yeah, it helps me let go off of some steam before a race. You can sleep here if you want, I'll shut up."

"You better, Verstappen,” he really tries to sound threatening (and fails anyway) before falling down and curling up on the sheets. They smell divine. He's out like a light.

Max gulps and risks looking at the sleeping driver only when he's sure Charles is dead to the world. And like he imagined he kind of wants to pick him and keep him in his little pocket. It's the same kind of feeling of when you see something so cute you want to kill it. Max feels exactly like that at the moment. He wants to hurt him, squeeze him until he can't breath, and treasure him at the same time. It's a conflict that he had with Charles for all of his life he realizes.

"Max? You there?"

His friends ask him over the headphones

"Yes, sorry guys. I have to keep it down. Last game and then I'm out."

"Aww Max is ditching us for a date! About time! Is she hot?"

"Shut up and play."

The next time Charles wakes up he feels a warm weight besides him. So, because he knows he's on a bed and the only one allowed on it with him is probably Pierre or Joris, maybe Andrea if he's lucky, he throws an arm over the other stomach.

It doesn't feel or smell like Pierre though.

It takes some seconds for Charles brain to connect, he lifts his head up. It's not his hotel room. The one he's kind of hugging is Max, his rival. The same one who has the controller in his hand, head resting on the headboard behind him and is currently watching him with a very amused expression.

"Good evening princess, is this your way of flirting? Very straightforward if I might say."

Jumpscare.

"Oh merde!" Charles doesn't waste time and backs away, he didn't mean for that to happen. He trips and fall off the bed on the way too. He's not that bold or desperate "I though you were Pierre, I'm so sorry," he rubs his hand on his face trying to wake up and sits up.

"I mean, I'm not complaining. You can stay," Max grabs his arm tugging, Charles easily falls back down on his side. Max keeps him close and throws the blanket back over him "I'll wake you when it's time for dinner."

Charles sleepily looks up at him, the bone deep tiredness crashing down on him once again "I still don't like you," he feels heat creep up on his neck and cheeks. Fuck him.

"I know, shat," says Max softly, barely a murmur, while running his fingers with unexpected delicacy through Charles’ hair. That feels really nice, fuck.

Charles falls back asleep just to escape the situation. That's what he tells himself at least.

Max can happily resume watching every angle and feature on his relaxed face. If he could do this every hour of his miserable life he would be the happiest man on this planet. It's so easy to admit now compared to months ago that it's terrifying. Since when his feelings became so intense? When did they get so strong to be more than simple attraction? Didn't he say he would take his time in understanding what he feels? Max gulps the thought down, pressure too heavy to handle everything right down and casts his eyes back on the FIFA game still going.

One minute he’s whishing for Charles to disappear from his life and the other he’s moments away from getting down on one knee and propose. Like, it’s disorienting. What the fuck, is Charles a witch?

The third time Charles is woken up is because of the smell of food "Look at that, sleeping beauty is awake! How did you sleep using me as a pillow?"

"Bien," and he actually did have a good sleep, great even. Which is not too strange - Charles could sleep anywhere but a plane - but it’s still unexpected. He imagined it would take time to not feel— in danger is a strong word but - at least threatened? Uncomfortable? It should have been harder to fall asleep in Max’s presence. Much, much harder. Instead he had the best sleep of his life. His entire world is actually turning upside down it seems.

Even so, he sits up not letting go of the blanket because it's warm and smells good. He wraps it around him. This time glad he didn't have a drastic awaking. There's food piled up on a small table on the bed. Max is sitting in front of him on the other side, legs crossed.

"Great, now eat, princess."

Charles glares so hard he might go blind. Max snickers like he's the funniest man alive.

It's all delicious, Charles is in heaven "This is paid with RedBull's budget money, non? That must be why it's so fucking good."

"You're so funny, Charles," Max doesn't seem to share his humor.

"I know. You better not have put anything in here to sabotage my win tomorrow," he warns him, cheeks full of food.

"You know I would never do that."

Charles rolls his eyes at the offended tone of the Dutchman "I know, I'm kidding."

"It's not like you would need help anyway," replies Max with a smile tugging at his lips fighting to be released.

"A clown, that's what you are," Charles throws napkins at the other who dodges laughing at his expense.

A couple minutes pass by in peaceful silence, busy with their food when Charles suddenly decides he has enough and stops chewing "You know what this feels like?"

"You tell me, Charles. I would say dinner but I have this feeling that it is not what you're gonna say."

Charles rolls his eyes, again, he really can't stand Max for too long, can he?

"It feels like a date. How do you say it English? Hmm..." Charles in thinking, Max just watches entertained, it's like he can see what is going on on the Monegasque mind, playing like a cartoon "Are you courting me, Verstappen? Is that the right verb?"

"Is it working, Leclerc?" it's Max's very quick reply.

"Are you that determined to get into my pants? I gotta admit, good food and good sleep are a great move but these are Ferrari pants, just so you know."

"I'm glad you think so, shatje. But then again, you invited yourself here. It’s not like I planned it."

"Touché," huffs Charles munching on a bite.

"So, is it working?" asks Max again. Charles narrows his eyes at him. Doesn't answer.

They stay like that, staring into each other eyes like they are waiting for the other to blink. It feels like a competition, as if a duel was engaged between the two. But then Charles just shrugs and resumes paying attention to his food.

Max might as well be speaking with a lunatic at this point.

They continue eating like nothing happened until they almost finish what they have in front of them. Giving Charles time to think. Which admittedly is never a good thing.

Charles is quickly getting tired of the game they're playing. This tip toeing around each other, the flirtatious jokes and awkward touches. It's fun, that's not the problem, but he doesn't like not knowing where they stand.b Like, are they friends? Charles doesn't consider Max a friend. Colleagues? Must be more than that he hopes, he usually doesn't have this strange impulse of holding his colleagues hand. Does he wants to hold Max's hand? Oh my god that is terrific.

Every time Seb or Pierre asks him what they are he honestly doesn't know what to say. They obviously like the other, it's undeniable at this point. Max made it pretty damn clear, Charles too he thinks. They aren't dating though. He's sick of calling Max his crush like he's fifteen, it's embarrassing. Someone has to take the first step, right?

Uncover all the cards on the table and decide.

“Do you want to fuck me, Verstappen?”

Max blinks slowly “I’m sorry, what?” He’s lucky he didn’t choke on his food.

“I know you want to,” Charles says as matter of fact, “but do you just want to do that?”

Max is still dumbfounded by whatever is happening.

“It’s okay if you do. I know what they say about me, that I might be easy or whatever. Lately I’m more…relaxed? I’m not actively searching sex but if that’s what you want to get at, why you’ve been acting so differently… If you just need it to get it out of your system then I can get it out of mine. Do you want to?”

“That’s what you think of me?”

“What? Do you not? I’ve seen you, Max. We’ve—“

“Charles, I don’t want to just fuck you. If we have to be honest here then I can probably say if that was what we both wanted we would have done it by now.” And Max say it so bluntly and with such an emotionless face it’s almost funny “Like, a really long time ago.” He finishes.

“I mean, that’s what everyone wants and I really don’t mind, Max—“

“That’s so fucked up, Charles. Is that what you want? Have sex and then go back like we were before?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

And he doesn’t. At this point the possibilities have narrowed down to two in his head: fuck or date.

Maybe Charles is running too much ahead but being actually together...is it the right thing? Is it something they could achieve? Or is it better to just let all of this shimmer down before it's too late? It feels like something destined to crash and burn honestly. On the other hand it's clear they have something, something good. But it's unclear at the same time, Charles honestly doesn't want to accidentally destroy it during a fight - because they will have many - just because he doesn't know where exactly they stand. He wants to know the risks.

Then again there’s still the option to just… fuck it out like he suggested. Maybe the problem is just some good old unresolved sexual tension. Which, Charles is clearly not against to just do it and try. He’s actually more scared on not be able to stop. He’s so sure that once he has Max on top of him he’d want him again and again and again… It’s hard to not have him completely, to not have him only for himself. That’s something Charles definitely does not want, about that he’s sure. He’s not one known to share once he had a taste for something. Unless he didn’t care about them and would never seen them again or they were bad. What if Max is bad in bed?

"Jokes aside, I don't think we could, you know, be together or something," and yes, he's blushing but let's just ignore that "If that's what you want, of course. I don't mean to, you know, hmm...imply?"

"Why not?" Once again, Max is straight to the point. Doesn't try to deny whatever's going on. Awesome, Charles wasn't crazy then, he can finally let go of the breath he was holding.

"Because we will fight again, many times. We are rivals, we are very competitive and I don't think that's healthy. The season just started and I kind of want to kill you and throw you down a ditch already so yeah...it would be so stressful, don't you think? That’s why I asked if maybe you just wanted the thought of me out of your system. I can see how fucking your supposed enemy might be some kind of goal or something."

Max nods, he understands perfectly because he thought about the same things. Maybe not the throwing in the ditch part but he did think of strangling the other at some point during this months, mainly when he had three wheels on the grass and a red car at his side. It's very complicated, almost too much really. They have the whole world rooting against them "I agree, I think it would be very, very hard but I also think that we could make it work. We have always been very honest with each other, we always say what we think even when we know it hurts to hear. Those sounds like bad things but it would keep us on equal footing, you know? After all these years of fighting like that and look at us now.”

And he's right, they've made huge steps, so much progress but Charles wouldn't necessarily blame all of that on their arguments. Rather on them being more mature and having other important issues to deal with, having priorities helped immensely. Again, using the word 'mature' is a little daring when you think about the almost punching each other in Zandvoort. But yeah, fighting with him has been less stressful in some ways. It's all very different lately.

On the other hand, they are too quick to say what they think. And often times those thoughts happen during stressful moments. It's bound to hurt. Really hurt. Especially if some things are said by you boyfriend. Until now it was - Charles doesn't want to say easy but - let's say doable to forgive and forget. They weren't anything too special, it hurts, yes, but a different kind. They didn't have anything to lose. Charles doesn't know if his heart can take that on top of every misfortune that is happening to him. Especially when it's his special person saying them.

Charles pays close attention to his reasoning so Max continues, realizing he probably only has one shot to make this work "That's what I like about you, the fact that you're not scared to say what you really think of me. We would fight but I think we could move on and understand where the other's coming from, yeah?"

"That's what I'm scared about actually," admits Charles. If every insult they throw at each other is real then fuck, that's horrible. Charles can still kind of understand Max's point. He wouldn't want his partner to lie to him even in a normal situation, it's just that theirs is a really difficult one full of too many emotions and adrenaline. It will be hard to distinguish what's said is real and what is not, it will generate more doubts and insecurities. Not mentioning their huge ego… can they both fit in a relationship?

"Look, I'm not saying to forget about whatever we would fight about, but I know we could accept it and move past it. We have done it before and I personally don't resent you for the many things you have done to me on track, and I think you don't either."

"I hated you though then. I didn't care."

That makes Max sigh.

Again, Charles isn't sure about that like Max is, or at least looks like he is. He doesn't think Max is sure either to be honest, he's just better at masking it. They have both bad personalities when it come to fighting, especially between each other, that's pretty evident. They do hold grudges, they do say really mean things and they do get physical, at least until they manage to focus on something else.

That's what's has been happening and it doesn't sound healthy in any kind of relationship. They still aren't mature enough honestly, Charles for sure doesn't feel like he is for something so complicated.

He could give it a try though... He can't live in regret.

"You still hate me. Even a little a bit."

Charles makes a face and shrugs "Well, more than a little bit."

Max chuckles muttering a "Same."

"What happens when the fight for the championship becomes more realistic?" The season just begun after all, they are still getting comfortable in their new car. The real battle still has to come, probably not this year still but soon "What happens when the other wins and the other loses?" That's real jealousy, it cuts deeply. They are both experts in this field.

"I know I will be angry, frustrated and jealous, I can tell you all of that already. But I'm also pretty confident that part of me would be happy for you and be supportive. Would you?" Those negative emotions are all so familiar with each other character that it doesn't feel right if they would completely disappear. Those are all feelings which keep them alive.

"I think so. I mean, I was happy for you when you won, you deserved it. Despite what happened to me or between us, I was still proud of you. I'm kind of scared of what would change and, I don't know..."

"Don't worry, I will still yell at you, I won't stop just because I think you're cute."

"You think I'm cute?"

"Right now? You look like a baby chipmunk in a burrito of blankets. You're adorable."

"Thanks. Just so you know, I will still race you hard, I'm not gonna go easy on you because I think you're hot."

"You think I'm hot?"

Charles huffs and rises his blankets to engulf his body so that only his eyes are visible "What I'm trying to say is that I wouldn't want the things that happen on track to affect our relationship," he explains.

"That will happen for sure, Charles, I can't say it definitely will not. That's normal. Many coworkers are together and are still happy. You're overthinking, just let things happen every now and then. I'm not here asking you to marry me, I'm just asking you to be open to the idea of maybe creating... something, an 'us'." Max looks to the side as if he's embarrassed or shy, he's the one who looks adorable at the moment “And I don’t want you out of my system, I want you inside of it for however long you’ll let me.”

Charles just doesn't want to get hurt.

The temptation is getting to him just by looking at the boy in front of him, with his pounding heart in his hands and offering it to him, hopeful.

And Charles, he has always been a sucker for that kind of things.

"You don't want to marry me?" pouts Charles with puppy eyes.

Max rolls his eyes and sighs "Charles," he drags the sound, complaining.

Charles smiles.

A couple of second of silence and then "Seb and Kimi are together,” blurts out Charles "Please don't tell anyone," he adds after that, scared. Eyes searching for the door like an army is going to blast through.

Max didn't expect that, that's clear. It's painted on his face.

"What?! Are you for real?" He has big blue eyes open wide, leaning forward like Charles is telling some super reserved secret. Well, it kinda is. Oops.

"Oui, I saw them make out when I first joined Ferrari, it was like watching your own parents," he still has nightmares. He feels the horror just thinking about it now.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," he covers his mouth with his hand, he looks actually sorry. It would be funny if Charles' mind wasn't going faster than his car. So many things are happening all at once.

"Me too. Anyway, I said that because I know it can work. Theoretically speaking."

"Okay, I'm not gonna force you into anything you don't want, Charles. Just wanted to make that clear."

"I don't like you and you could never make me do anything.”

"I know, shatje" he looks so fond, shit.

"Stop calling me ugly, it's not helping your case," that makes Max laugh hard "This was the least romantic confession I ever had by the way. I felt in a briefing, are you also going to tell me your strategy? You have to step up your game, Verstappen."

At that Max laughs out loud, joyful and free, Charles soon follows right after.

"Are you tired? Wanna sleep?" Asks Max once he's finished wiping tears. He hadn't felt so relaxed on a really long time, like he finally found the last puzzle pieces hiding right in front of his eyes and he only has to put them in the right places.

Charles is not even looking at Max when he nods, his rosy cheeks and open arms just makes him much cuter. Max is a simple man and falls back down hugging the Charles burrito close to him.

He tucks his chin over the messy hair and drops a kiss on top just because he finally can (right??). Max can die happy right this instant.

("Does that mean you were single all along?"

"Why?"

"Could have fooled me.”)

Going back to the paddock is awkward. They don't see each other very much luckily. Charles still doesn't know how to act, are they together? They just talked about the possibility of it and cuddled after... that doesn't count, right?

To Charles it had always come naturally hanging out with his past girlfriends, he didn’t think much before taking their hands, holding their waist or kissing them. If he wanted to do it, if he felt like it then he just did it. He’s always been affectionate and his past lovers were too. So this? With Max? Strange is an understatement. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, what to feel, what to think…

He doesn’t know anything. What does Max likes? He has never really payed attention before. Never had to and especially never wanted to (he would have puked at the sight, now look at him). What does he think? What would he like Charles did? Or say? Is he more the type to do everything in private? To not talk all day in the risk they’d be discovered? Or is he more…chill? Charles doesn’t know what he himself wants, so how could he know what Max wants?

So yeah, Charles is confused as hell, probably more than before, but he feels all warm inside whenever he remembers how serious Max was, how it looked like he gave many thoughts about them being something more, which is honestly shocking. Charles has always been under the impression that the other was not capable of directing his attention to emotions in general, regarding Charles too? Unimaginable. That must mean something good, right? He can't even look at Max in the eyes without self-combusting.

In qualifying Charles makes a mistake that costs him the pole "It's okay Charles, you'll make it tomorrow,” the mechanics say the moment he steps out the car.

"Yes, Charles, don't beat yourself up," someone pats him on the back reassuring him.

Charles takes the balaclava off giving them a tight smile "I'll bring that trophy home, don't you worry guys. Good job today, I'm really sorry."

The crew waves him off, trusting him blindly. That brings back confidence in Charles. He feels so lucky. This atmosphere is completely different from last year. With his personal team at least.

Because the air in the scuderia is still pretty fucking tense.

Starting with the car which is clearly not made for Charles but rather his teammate.

The 'Diva Capricciosa' is untamable. Fred Vassuer does look guilty about that even though it's not completely his fault. It isn't his car, he's not to blame if it's shit.

He side hugs Carlos that managed to take the fifth place, the RedBulls and Alonso were on another dimension once again. Charles is not even happy about having the Mercedes' behind, this year they definitely made a step forward.

He sits down on the first chair he finds, Andrea is there giving him one water bottle after the other and putting a hat on his head "We can't have you catching something," he has also an extra jacket on one hand "Put this on when you're calmer, okay? Take it easy, the interviews are like twenty minutes away."

Charles nods thanking him.

When the interviews are about to begin the drivers are pretty much all waiting in the same room as him. Lando is besides him keeping him company, talking about music, he also didn't have a great race like all year.

"What is this? Depression corner?" It's Max who leans back on the wall with Norris.

"Man, it sucked. And you? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be one of the first to go in?"

"Yeah, I'm waiting."

"So what you're saying is you didn't make any friends among the new drivers,” he eyes the new young additions talking to themselves, Max still hasn’t talked to them all season “Without Daniel you must be really suffering, Maxy.”

"You aren't doing any better."

Carlos joins them, he throws an arm around Charles shoulders kneeling down beside him. The Monegasque enjoys the fact that it catches Max's aye. He doesn't look angry obviously - if he did Charles would have ended it right there and there - just watches attentively. Could be jealousy because he can't do the same or a little bit possessive. In Charles opinion he looks hot either way so he's not complaining.

"How are you?"

"Just upset with myself, I'm glad you made it though."

Carlos lightly brushes his hair as a thank you, making him smile "Are you taking Seb place?" Asks Charles looking up at him.

"Well, you're sad and Seb isn't here. Max is awkward and Daniel isn't here. Someone has to do something.”

"Oi! I'm fine, I'm not here to make friends," protests the RedBull driver.

“We know, Max,” they all say in unison.

"Okay! The first three can come in, come on!" They finally call.

Carlos and Max go away leaving the others alone once again. Max actually managed to graze his fingers on Charles’ hair when he passed by him, he almost didn't even notice, it puts a little smile on his lips at least. He feels his cheeks getting hotter "You look better already, more determined. When I saw you before you looked quite scary."

Charles chuckles "Sorry mate. I just want a good season, you know?"

"Same man, I wanna fight more with you guys.”

"You will, just be careful, yeah? Don't want to repeat any accidents," Charles jokes, Lando scoffs but he still smiles.

Before leaving Miami, his friends manage to drag him for a ride around New York. He really, really didn't want to go but they guilt trapped him by saying that they came all this way just to see him and spend time with him and so he couldn't just leave like that, without having fun with them. And Charles is not capable of saying no to a bunch of puppy eyes, no matter how shitty he feels.

"Charles! Thought you already left."

"Hey Max, good race."

"I'm really sorr—" begins Max but Charles immediately interrupts him, shaking his head.

"Don't, please. I can't hear it anymore, all day people are saying 'sorry' to me like it's their fault."

"Right, it's Ferrari's fault."

Charles rolls his eyes picking up his backpack "Its my fault."

"It's not," Max insist. How can he say that?

Charles walks away from him and Max can't help but add "Okay, it's nobody's fault, better?" Concedes Max while stopping him, grabs his arm to turn him around.

Charles's eyes looks dead, tired and pissed at the same time "How's you neck?" Max rises his hand to touch him and Charles flinches away. Habits are hard to break out of apparently.

Max looks hurt by his reaction but Charles is so emotionally and physically drained that he can't really do anything about it. Can't even care, really.

Max blames himself too for the reaction. Charles has very good reasons to be scared of him and his touch. It is saddening rather than comforting this time around. If this was his reaction the years before Max would have been thrilled honestly.

Charles shrugs "I don't know, can't really feel anything in particular. I'm sore all over, the car kept bouncing me around."

Max wants to hold him forever in the palms of his hands to keep him sheltered from the world.

"You should stay in bed."

"No, don't wanna stay here anymore. I'll see you in Monaco, okay? I think. Anyway, I'm late," Charles phone is ringing "Have a safe flight, alright? Let me know when you land."

Max smiles sadly at him, he really wants to say things that he knows would just upset Charles more "Yep, you too. Have fun, okay? Rest when you can," Charles nods and walks away answering his phone.

Once he's out of the hotel Max can finally let out a good 'fuck!' that he was holding inside. Of course Daniel appears out of thin air. "What is it now?"

"Fuck!" Max's heart is racing. Daniel can be silent too when he wants to. Who would have said that.

"Twice in a row!" He fists bump his shoulder "What is it, mate?"

"You scared me. Are you stalking me now?" He's kind of beginning to think that Horner put in his contract to stalk him whenever he's in the paddock and keep tabs on him. Max wouldn't be surprised honestly.

"No, I just saw Charles leaving and you saying 'fuck'. Was that more of a 'I want to fuck him, fuck' or 'I want to smash his face in a wall, fuck'? Could be both, I mean..." he laughs at Max's face.

Max doesn’t look like he appreciates.

"It was a 'he's slipping away, fuck'"

All humor is gone. Daniel sighs while Max starts walking towards his own room floor, Daniel follows him easily. It looks like Max could use a friend. He often thinks he's fine and that he can do everything by himself when he shouldn't have to. That was his old way of doing things before he had people who cared about him.

"Is he upset? At you?" Pushes Daniel curious and also eager to help. They didn't look like they were fighting. Their fights usually involved screaming and a couple of shoves at least. Not tears though, they are too proud to do that in front of the other.

"I don't think so. You saw his race, it wasn't good enough."

"That team..." Daniel tilts his head, pressing the button of the elevator "And why are you upset? It's his problem, the best you can do is being by his side, right? Support him. Why are you here and not with him? Aren’t you, like, free?" He asks.

Max gulps and looks down the corridor.

"Charles likes spending time with his friends more than he does with me, trust m—"

Daniel shakes his head trying to lock eyes with Max and interrupts him "I don't think that's right Maxy, he's—" but Max doesn't let him finish.

"Anyway, if I stay with him I'll just get more angry and that's not right. He doesn't deserve that right now," or ever but that is not realistic at all "And we are not at that level of comfort yet. We haven't really had time to talk about us."

"And why are you angry?" Asks again Daniel entering the elevator and selecting their floor.

"Fucking Ferrari and their shitty car. It's killing him, like, physically now too apparently" Max explains, still clearly pissed about the entire thing. "You know how Mercedes' has the same problem with the bouncing? Well, Charles might not mind it or even notice it while driving but his body for sure is."

"Is he hurt? Lewis told me how fucking awful it is for his tailbone, he had to take a lot of meds for it. Why are you here Max??" Because that's what a concerned partner usually does. At least Daniel and probably everyone else in this world thinks that.

"Stop telling me that! He has to go back, I can't follow him around! I'm not a fucking dog! And he's fine, just sore. That's what he said and I believe him, he's strong."

"Hmm, alright. So why do you get angry at him?" Daniel lets the matter go, Max is too stubborn to see what he sees. Insisting will not help but rather make him go against it more. He's a pro at this.

"Because he's stupid and I can't bare to look at him when he's fucking stubborn. He's a dumb charging bull not a prancing horse, that's for sure."

"He just loves his team, there's nothing you can do about that."

"That's not love," Max shakes his head too.

"It is though."

"That's obsession. He's just getting hurt again and again,” he gets out, walking quickly to his door.

Daniel chases after him "No, Maxy. Thats exactly what love is. Love hurts sometimes, most of the times actually."

"It is not," repeats Max, sure of himself, as if he wants to convince Daniel. Charles and Max are really dumb and dumber, Daniel realizes. It hurts to watch. For some reason he thought that the moment they finally used their energy to like each other rather than hate everything around them they would be peaceful and healthy. He clearly had very high expectations, of course even more problems would come out of the two of them together. He should have thought of that.

"Loves bound to hurt. You're hurt and you love him,” Max instantly turns bright red, he distracts himself by searching for his keys.

"I'm not hurt and I don't love him. He's a psycho masochist."

"Not yet, maybe. But you're hurt, I know you. And he hurts too, because of you," Daniel points at his chest. Max just slaps the finger away from him.

"No, he doesn't, I could never reach that level to him. He gets angry at me because he has an ego, we both do. That's why we fight."

"You're thinking like a racer and not like a lover, Maxy. But it's okay, you'll learn soon enough," he replies solemnly, nodding to himself. "Hopefully," he adds, less confident.

Max shoves him playfully "Since when do you think you're so wise?" And they continue bickering and laughing, their talk momentarily put down.

"So Max, what happened out there?"

"I think one of my tyres touched a wet spot and that made me lose control for a second and then did the three sixty. Usual stuff," shrugs Max, not really much more to say really.

"And took my front wing out while you were there,” Charles can't help but add.

"Shouldn't have been so close then."

"I was faster than you."

"Don't exaggerate now, Charles. You had DRS and a slip stream, of course you thought you were faster."

"Whatever," Charles rolls his eyes as the true drama queen he is. Max almost laughs.

Because of Max's spin Charles had to box much earlier then expected and then fight tooth and nail with Lewis on a very wet track to regain his second place. Max won, obviously.

"Anyway, I'm glad I was able to gain control immediately and lead the rest of the race without other issues."

"Charles, despite the incident with Max you did a fantastic race that kept us all rooting for you, what are you feelings about today?"

"The car is performing really well, the updates work, I feel confident when I'm driving so that must be why I was able to come back and still be on the podium. Would have been great to fight more with RedBull and take the win, just needed a couple more laps."

As a matter of fact, Max did not 'lead the rest of the race without other issues' as he said, Charles behind him was raging and fuming until he caught up and they battled it out until the last meter.

He hears Max scoff so he turns to glare at him. Still a motherfucker, always were and always will be.

"I don't get why you're so upset? You can't win all of them, don't be a sore loser, Leclerc."

Charles is walking fast, tired and in a pissed off mood. Max is following hot on his heels demanding his attention."I can, that's the problem. I can and I would have won."

"Are you angry with me?" Max tries to make him slow down by grabbing his hand.

Charles suddenly stops and turns around to look at him. Max almost bumps into his back not expecting it. Then Charles index finger is pointing at Max's chest whilst staring right back into his eyes. Their faces are really close and red from the fast paced walk. "No, I'm not. But if you continue telling me how I should feel then yes, Max, I will be very angry. So leave me the fuck alone," he yanks his hand away hard from his grip "And don't touch me."

Max rolls his eyes huffing but stops following him back to his motor home and just watches him leave. It's so frustrating and Max has no idea of what to do.

He gets that he's upset. He would be too probably. But it wasn't his fault, he made a common mistake, every driver spun today at some point or another. Charles did too actually. Max is just trying to be there for him, he wants to be by his side now that he can. Tell him he did great keeping the red car right on track, or that he felt just like back in France and revive old stories. Not Charles though, he seems determined to throw his frustration at Max anyway. Now that Max feels the need to be nice to him, Charles refuses it. Awesome.

Honestly, Charles kind of developed a fear for bad luck. Because that's what happen today, nothing more, he knows that. It wasn't anyone fault, not his and not Max's. But it is also true that in his life whenever bad luck begins to strike it went bad, really bad. So yeah, Charles is scared and disappointed more than just angry.

"Charles, don't listen to whatever he told you, okay? Get back to your room and change so that we can go back to the hotel and sleep. The meeting has been postponed to tomorrow morning," Andrea is back at his side.

"What about the analysis? I want to know," stops him Charles.

"The crew will send them later in the evening, don't worry. Just, don't overthink. It's another bad race, you're still the champion contender."

Charles smiles, trying to comfort his concerned friend too "I know, thanks.”

"Anytime. You're scheduled to go back with Carlos so don't make him wait too much.”

He takes a brief shower to wash off the sweat and grime. He was swimming in his seat inside the car because of how much rain there was on track. It felt awful. Having tons of water being thrown at you at that speed is the worst experience ever.

Like Andrea said Carlos is there for him to join him on the ride back to the hotel. They wave at the fans cheering outside the circuit and drive off.

When they enter the lobby they find the two RedBulls' drivers (they still aren’t the best of friends but they are working on it since what happened in ?) and the Alpines.

"Hola guys," the four of them turn around when they hear Carlos voice "How are you?".

"Hey Pierre. You did really good today, I'm so proud," he hugs his best friend tightly after saying 'hi' to the other two drivers, Checo hugs him, Max rolls his eyes at him. Ocon glares at Charles’ general direction.

"I'm getting the hang of it, merci Charlie. I was about to text you if you wanted to grab some dinner later? We haven't got time lately."

" Sûr, I'll text you."

Max sends him a tired look that screams 'really??', Charles ignores him.

"Come on Charles, Andrea told me to make sure you sleep," Carlos says tugging him away and messing up his hair with one hand, Charles rolls his eyes, Andrea is a mama bear.

"I'll join you, I'm going that way too. Bye guys!"

Carlos leans to whisper in Charles hear "Do you want me to make him go away?" Charles chuckles and shakes his head "It's fine, gracias,” Carlos smiles and nods.

Charles finds the situation extremely funny in having the two men to escort him to his room. When Max doesn't leave immediately after they reach his door Carlos looks at Charles questioningly. He knows Carlos is burning with curiosity, things like these never happened before today.

"It's okay, I'll see you tomorrow,” he waves at Carlos who looks very reluctant but in the end he leaves them alone. He mouths at him a 'we'll talk later' before walking. Charles shakes his head playfully.

His expression drops at the sight of Max.

"Since when everyone is so overprotective?"

"Since you started getting on my nerves," he shoves his hands in his pockets searching for the card.

"Ah, that's a long time."

"Yep," he finally manages to open the door after a couple of unsuccessful swipes.

"What are you doing here, Max?" He puts his backpack down.

"Are you still angry?"

"I'm not, I never was really."

"Yeah? Tell that to that poor reporter."

"Don't make me feel bad, I'm sure she understands I wasn't in a good mood."

He takes off his Ferrari jacket throwing it somewhere "Anyway. See, I told you that it would be like this," he opens his suitcase laying by his bed searching for the best hoodie he can find and possibly drown in it.

"Like what? Angry? You look hot when you're angry, especially at me. It’s probably the thing I hate the most about you, it’s frustrating.”

"Max, I'm serious. You'll understand when you'll be angry with me. Remember what you're saying."

"So you are angry with me," if Max asks that one more time Charles will seriously throw him off the balcony.

"I'm just, I don't know. I have zero patience at the moment so don't fucking start," he takes off his Ferrari hoodie too to wear a white and thick one. He can't be mad at Max for something out of his control. He knows that. Is he still disappointed? Of course. "I'm starting to, like, build up a tolerance and actually like your presence after a very long time so please, don't overstep and throw my progress out of the window."

"Charles, I've been very angry with you many times, sure, maybe I didn't want to see you right away but it doesn't mean anything. I can give you space if you want, I understand."

He's right, this isn't their first rodeo being angry, quite the opposite. The difference is that before they just shoved the other around, yelled and said mean things. Then waited until it was all better again or something new came up. Now, they are at the beginning of a fragile relationship that neither of them want to ruin so early on for something this stupid. Fighting right now doesn't seem like a good idea like every other time. Would they recover if they did? How long would it take?

Charles thinks about it. He is upset, his race went bad because of him. But Max looks cuddly and gentle and Charles is freezing and sad. He has to put down his walls this time. It was a stupid reason to be upset anyway.

"No."

"You cold?"

Charles nods "Every time we race when it rains I feel like my bones become ice cubes, I hate it."

Max puts his jacket on a chair. He's not that cold, this is normal temperature for him. He doesn't enjoy freezing, of course, but he also doesn't like roasting under the sun. This is okay. He approaches Charles, hesitant and kind of scared he's gonna be rejected again "Can I touch you? Or are you going to claw my eyes out?" he asks, Charles groans but nods "Come here then," he opens his arms welcoming Charles who doesn't waste a second to dive in. Max is a furnace.

He leads them on the couch and sits down on it, Charles follows suit and straddles his lap hiding his face in the Dutchman neck. Max leans back and begins stroking his fluffy brown hair.

"Anyone told you you are a great hugger?" He hears him mumble against Max's pectorals, he barely understand what Charles is saying.

When Max laughs Charles can hear it in his chest "Thanks, shatje," he murmurs placing a kiss on the top of his head.

Charles hums, suddenly feeling very tired in the new warm embrace. Max is a great cuddler, that's so good to know. Kind of unexpected from the rude driver but very appreciated.

These are the things that make you realize how much you think you know a person but in reality you actually don't. Charles was pretty confident of who Max was. Max Verstappen is aggressive, selfish and blunt to the point it's considered mean. But that's pretty much only driver Max. The other Max, the one he began to know in Formula 1, when they began to share podiums and were at that point forced to interact with one another. He learnt that that Max is also funny, it shines through on the conferences when in a good mood, he loves analyzing races right after driving them no matter who's with him, loves his cats to death but will never admit it and in general is a very caring person. And a great hugger apparently!

It's a difficult situation for Charles (and Max probably). He has always considered Max someone he's going to race against pretty much all of his career (the thought of ever being teammates never crossed his mind, it would be suicide). Max has always been in his plans one way or another. And now he's here, still being an asshole and just a pain in general, but he's here. Supporting him, genuine and patient.

That's so unexpected, what is he gonna do?

This man, his rival, his enemy driving for RedBull, who, let's be honest, he has always considered attractive in a 'why did he have to be so annoying and hot at the same time' way, actually likes him now? That's absurd.

When he wakes up from the very short nap he opens his eyes and looks up at Max who's answering messages on his phone, eyebrows pulled in a slight frown in concentration. He is still holding him tight like a treasure, Charles is gonna die.

"Hi," mumbles Charles sleepily.

Max probably didn't notice him waking up from the surprised look on his face "Hi," he smiles. His eyes are shining. Charles is not okay.

"Slept good?"

"Hmm, oui," he stretches while still on top of him, his back is gonna be so painful and sore tomorrow. He looks down at Max's thighs spread out under him, so worth it.

"You better have because I couldn't breath for half an hour. You're heavy," Max leaves the phone on the sofa to place one hand gently on his waist. It fits so nicely.

"Shut up, Verstappen. I think it's the least you deserve," Charles fingers go through the blond hair to push them back just to mess with him. Max doesn't even seem to mind and instead leans with the movement to rest his head back on the couch. And of course he has soft hair too, just to add to the list of things Charles is discovering that are so not good for his mental stability. So annoying.

"Do you feel better at least?"

"Yes," Charles nods. Right in this moment he does, he wasn't even thinking about it 'till Max mentioned it.

"Then it was worth it," he winks. It's soooo bad.

Charles groans and leans back cringing, luckily Max is still holding him or he would have fallen down "Oh my god, why are you still flirting, it's so embarrassing. You're so bad at it!"

"Because you keep saying you still don't like me," is Max watching the exposed and stretched neck like a starved animal? Charles doesn't need to know or his ego could get too big for his head.

Charles groans again "Does that mean you won't stop until I say it?"

Max shrugs "Maybe".

"Ugh. At least learn how, you know?"

“Can I kiss you?”

Charles rolls his eyes and falls back down on his chest “No”, Max's other hand borrows in his hair holding him close, cradling him almost. The grip turning tight at the comment. Charles takes a deep breath inhaling the other scent before sitting straight up, straddling the other lap once again "I have to text Pierre". Poor Max looked like he was about to relax for once.

"Right, dinner date?"

"Yup,” Charles smiles. He takes the other hands in his taking them gently off of his waist and intertwining their fingers. He has Max’s full attention and he looks suspicious. Charles does his best to seem innocent. He carefully leans down not breaking aye contact until he places one light kiss on the driver's neck, then another and another up until he reaches his jaw, lapping his tongue at the sharp angle feeling the other breath hitch under his touch. Then he jumps off standing up and enjoys the frustration on the Dutchman's face who didn't even had enough time to grab him properly to pull him back. Charles grins victorious. "You're a menace," groans Max covering his red face, leaning back on the couch "It's the third time you do this to me!"

"I'll probably end up staying in his room..." He wanders off towards his suit case, thinking out loud "What should I wear?"

"That." Max is pointing at the RedBull jacket he took off earlier.

"I'm never wearing that shit again. I still have nightmares," he shivers. Might be the cold or it might be because of the horrendous jacket. Most likely the second option "I think I got a rash from your hoodie last time."

Then he stands up straighter, thinking out loud once again "But maybe Pierre would like it? He likes RedBull."

Max scoffs "You would wear it for him and not me?"

Charles turns to look at him like he's stupid "Of course. I would never listen to you."

"Okay, then don't wear it," he shrugs and settles on the couch more comfortably pulling out his phone.

"That's it?"

"What else do you want me to say? Don't wear it, give it back. You don't deserve it anyway."

"I don't deserve it? I drive for Ferrari, Max. It's the other way around if anything."

"I said: give it back to me, Charles." They lock eyes, both looking determined to not lose whatever's dispute is going on, Max's arm is stretched out in front of him to receive his jacket back.

Charles narrows his eyes and storms off out the room, hurriedly putting it on.

_

"So," Pierre takes a sip out of his glass and puts it down,"Is wearing Verstappen's jacket your way of announcing your relationship to the world or...??"

Charles looks like a deer caught in headlights "What? How do you know it's his?"

Pierre forrows his ayebrows, he feels like Charles is pulling a prank on him, is he missing something? He looks around for cameras, for Antoine to pop up from somewhere but he finds nothing.

"His number and color is all over it?"

Charles closes his eyes, takes a deep hissing breath and whisper a silent 'fuck' before releasing it.

"I'm fucking killing him," he throws the jacket far away from him. Max must be having a good laugh right now. He knew something wasn't right!

Charles shakes it all away, that's a problem for later.

"So Pierre..." Charles gulps feeling kind of nervous.

"What happened?" Like always, the French driver can smell gossip from miles away. He's a shark “Did you fuck?”

“No!” shouts Charles indignantly.

Pierre cringes and asks “Was it bad?”

“Pierre! We did not! Not yet, at least!”

“I’m sorry! Jeez. It’s okay if you did, have fun. Max is questionable but I mean, you do you…”

“Pierre.”

“I’m sorry, please continue.”

Charles nods and takes another deep breath in.

"You remember when me and Max started joking around about possibly liking each other and be serious about it, yeah?"

"Of course, it still hurts my brain to understand. Did you fight about today's accident? I mean, I guess you made up," he indicates him up and down with his hand, making a show out of it to make it extra embarrassing.

"No! I mean, kind of? That's not the point."

"Then what is it?"

"I've just been thinking that we could actually make it work somehow. Give it a serious go at it. Every time I see him, even if I want to strangle him I begin thinking about taking things seriously. What do you think? Am I stupid for thinking that?"

"Well, no, don't ever think that about your feelings. I've never really see you two interact in that way but I mean it Charles, do what you think it's best. I'll support you. If he makes you happy then I'm happy, no doubts about that," he locks eyes "You know that."

And Charles does know that. If there's one person who wants the best for him is indubitably Pierre. The one who knows Charles inside out, who experienced everything with Charles, from his first kiss to his first heartbreak. He knows Charles better than he knows himself.

"I'm so thankful to have you, Pierre."

"Yes, you better be. Now, tell me everything. What made you think all of this?"

And so Charles begins his rant about this potential relationship. He tells Pierre pretty much what he already told Max, about his insecurities and doubts. How he doesn't want this to end with them getting back to the way they were before. How he feels sad about even thinking about that, and it's strange to feel like this because it's Max they are talking about. But also, it's Max and he really likes him too so he's all confused about his feelings and at the same time he's so not.

It's all messed up in short.

"That's alright, it's relatively new so its normal. You still have to get to know one another. Have you told Seb?"

"Yeah, he's very supportive." he rolls his eyes.

Too supportive.

When he called right after the first honest conversation with Max, Seb was very excited "Shit’s getting real. I'm so mad I'm not living the experience with my own eyes. I might join Formula 1 again for you, Charles!”

"Anyway, yeah. I'm still not so sure about things. Our career is very important to us, I don't want a relationship interfering on track or otherwise." Is Charles ignoring a legend of the motor-sport? Yes. Yes, he is.

Seb laughs muttering something about him being a little terror.

"I think the fact you both have your job as a number one priority is an advantage. There will still be moments where you might feel left to the side but I'm sure you both get where the other is coming from. It's easier to overcome the problem."

"That's how it went with Kimi?"

"Pretty much. I'm not gonna lie, it's a hard choice and one you must be ready to commit. But if you really want my opinion… I think you and Max have great potential. You bring out the worst out of each other but it makes you both stronger, I think that's great! It shows how you don't have to always get along to have a great relationship," Seb pauses for a moment. Thinks about what he just said “Yeah, it sounds pretty self-contradictory but anyway. You'll do great Charles!" He can feel the awkward pat and smile he'd give him.

__

The Italian gran prix this year is set to be one of the best. With Charles finally catching up and exchanging points with Max all season and still leading the championship by a couple of points. He's obviously the favorite of the race. Everyone is rooting for him, Tifosi are so ready to cheer for him on park ferme. Charles loves it but the pressure is starting to build up.

"No mistakes guys. Please. It's important for us to win, I don't want to hear wrong tyres changes, or bad calls in the box. I'm counting on you. Remember that the car has four wheels and the sun's shining so please no wet tyres on the car," he jokes just to lift up the sprits of the pit crew.

Everyone cheers and laughs in response, hugs him and reassure him that everything will be alright. Charles really hopes so.

Qualifying goes great for him at the end, taking another pole position under his belt. Does not let it get through his head, Max might be only fourth but winning will not be easy, he has Lewis right besides him and the impressively quick McLaren in third. It will be tough. But for now he's enjoying his much earned light hearted feeling, talking with Lewis like he has been found himself doing more and more lately, feeling comfort and understanding when chatting with the older man.

"I'm actually writing a new piece on the piano! It's going slow bec—"

"Did you fucking slow me down on purpose?" Interrupts Max, storming in like thunder, shoving Charles shoulder to make him look at him.

Charles immediately glares at him "What? I did not."

"Really? Then why did I always have your fucking red truck at the beginning of every flying lap? Tell me, Charles," insists Max raising his voice, Lewis throws him a warning look.

"Even when I exited at completely different times than you, you were still in front of me every lap! What kind of fucked up strategy is that? Desperation? Are you that scared?" Continues Max like Lewis did not exist, only Charles on front of him looking all but innocent. Or maybe it's just Max to think that. It's not shocking to believe it probably is. Charles and his stupid privileged of being loved unconditionally.

"I think you're imagining things, I always let you pass at the right time. You, on the other hand, brake tested me in the last lap, I saw you and I’m not complaining like you are," is Charles reply, if Max is going to throw accusations then he's not going to back down.

"I think you're imagining things, Charles ," mimics him Max, Charles sees red.

"Do you really want to be disqualified? I wanted to be nice and not report you but if you insist..."

"Right, run to mummy—" begins saying Max in a mocking tone stepping close. Too close decides Lewis.

In fact, Lewis has enough, especially of Max and his shit, and steps in between them blocking Charles from his vision and keeping him behind him with a protective arm.

Max tunnel vision immediately zeroes on that, previous argument completely forgotten. How dare he?

"Can you stop spitting bullshit? We were having a nice conversation before you came here stomping like a child."

Lewis looks dead serious. It's almost scary, really.

"Get the fuck away, Hamilton. It's none of your business."

Max reaches out for Lewis' arm but the other is quicker to get away and says "You get the fuck away from him, man. What do you think you're doing?"

"I should get away from him?" Max says it like he really can't believe it, it's ridiculous.

"Yes, you. Stop instigating fights all the time!"

"I think little Charles here can decide for himself. Right, Charles?"

So, he looks at Charles expecting some kind of help. Which, of course, he doesn't get. How stupid of him.

Charles just smirks and throws a wink at him enjoying the whole scene.

Worlds champions are fighting for his attention now!

"It's okay Lewis," he places one hand on his shoulder, Max follows the movement "Let's just talk somewhere else without annoying children. My driver room is fine? You know the way."

"Yeah, okay," answers Lewis, not convinced but following him not before throwing one hard look at Max, expecting him to do something stupid, keeping a hand in the small of Charles' back.

Max doesn't do anything stupid like follow them and punch the living lights out of Hamilton like the other champion would think. He's honestly petrified in place and cannot even contemplate what just happened. Did Lewis fucking Hamilton just stole his boyfriend?

(Are they boyfriends??)

"So Charles, what does it feels like to have almost two home races back to back?"

"You're right, Imola feels like a home race almost more than Monaco just ‘cause of having so many tifosi here. But yeah, I feel great, I hope everything will go smooth—? Smoothly?"

"Some predictions? How do you feel the RedBulls will do?"

"I mean, this year I think we managed to build an equal car now so it's gonna be a really tough race. Also, the Mercedes aren't to underestimate and neither is Aston Martin so it's set to be really fun," he grins, genuinely excited to race.

"You think you'll win?"

"I know I will," Charles gives his trademark wink just because he can before leaving for the preparations.

Like Charles said, he won the race. He wins the fucking Italian GP with Ferrari. It's beautiful, it feels like a dream, both Ferraris on the podium, tifosi below them cheering more than ever before. He only sees red everywhere and a huge ramping horse. Charles almost jumps down the platform to hug all of them, he's sure they would catch him (he doesn't try).

He's drenched from head to toe in champagne, he feels it bubbling inside his fucking boxers but it's all so worth it.

When the photos and all the hugs are done everything's begins to calm down. The adrenaline wears off and he's gotta prepare for the conference to his demise. Because of course not everything is perfect.

"Charles Leclerc! I'm sure we are all happy to say you're finally winner of an Italian race since 2019. Congratulations! How does it feel?"

"Thank you! It feels great honestly, more so because Carlos is here too. I'm sure Monza will feel even better later on," he smiles with confidence. Almost everyone here loves him so it's awesome to see many reporters smile back at him. Refreshing.

"Tell us about the race, please.”

"There's not too much to say. I made some adjustments while I was on track so I'm really happy the team trusted me and supported me. Everything after that was okay."

"What about the battles on track?"

"They were tough, it's a fast race and there are many opportunities. RedBull was clearly very determined to do everything to win, I'm glad to be here all in one piece and victorious."

"What about the Mercedes?"

"I don't know, I talked with Lewis briefly and he told something went wrong with the tyres? I'm sure you all know more than I do."

"Thank you Charles, now Max Verstappen, congratulation on second place. What went different from Miami last week? Were there some problems?"

"No, car was perfect. Ferrari defended like his life dependent on it. I'm surprised we are both alive at this point but, yeah. I did my best."

Awkward silence falls in the room. That answer was said with a face Max has worn rarely since his first years in Formula 1. The no-bullshit-bitch face.

"So," the man talking clears his throat "it's clear from both of your answers there was a chance of a serious crash, could any of you elaborate on that?"

The silence is deafening.

"Charles?"

Charles sighs "We all saw the race. Max was more desperate and aggressive than usual but it's okay, I'm not complaining. It's Max, close accidents are to be expected. That's what racing with him means and it's fun, I guess. I can manage him."

"What the fuck.”

Max turns to look at him. Charles doesn't even bother and continue looking straight ahead. Did Max really expect Charles to just ignore the bad words he threw at him? He heard the interviews, Max had not been very kind so why should he?

"It's not an insult, I'm just saying. Stating a fact."

"Please, no fighting during interviews. Thank you," they warn them. The management is so quick lately that it's almost laughable, it's like they expect it at some point or another.

"Carlos, let's talk about you. Congratulations on third, you did a great job. What were your main objectives?"

"Yeah, my main goal after reaching those two was just keeping out of trouble. The moment I saw them fighting I decided to not risk my car unless there was a clear opportunity. It wasn't worth it, you know? My race was great, one of the best I did all season, very smooth."

The walk back from the conference room is tense, more so when Carlos has to leave Charles and Max alone. He really doesn't want to leave them alone. It's so evident they're gonna snap at each other.

"You're really something, Charles."

"Why thank you, darling. My room or yours?”

"Don’t give me that bullshit. First you leave no space on track which okay, fine, if you're gonna fight dirty then I'm not backing down. And then you say that shit."

"I leave no space? How about I could literally touch your fucking wing with my hand from how close you were? You didn't even look like you were trying to overtake but just barrel into me to push me off, like you always do. I'm not like the others Max, I will not let you do that and get away with it."

"That's not true, you closed on me every time, of course it looked like that from your point of view."

Charles lets out a bitter laugh "Right, me turning is now considering closing you. What should I do? Drive straight on a turn? You lead me off track multiple times! What should I say then?"

"You did too! The blue on your car is the fucking proof of that, Charles!"

"Please Max, I don't wanna hear it. If you want to fight on purpose go to someone alse," he tries to reach for him but Max backs off, not wanting to be touched. Charles rolls his eyes and huffs turning around and walking away. If Max is gonna act like this then he'll just leave him until he's ready to talk like adults.

It doesn't come as a surprise when that doesn't happen.

"Of course, run again Charles! You're a fucking expert at that. The only thing you do whenever there's a fight going on is give the silent treatment like when you were eight! Is it because you know I'm right?"

Charles would love to call himself much more mature then him but in reality? He's not.

"I'm not fucking running! You really want to argue? Fine! In turn 6 your shitty self smashed my rear wing and I'm so glad it didn't break because you'd be fucking dead by now."

"Yeah, and then you pushed me off track and into the walls, you're saying you did it on purpose out of revenge?"

Charles wants to rip his hair out.

"I'm saying you have to learn how to fucking drive when someone's in front of you!”

"Right, I forget that you have so much experience thanks to me," he scoffs, Max always knew what to say, right where it hurts. One of his many talents "You should be grateful."

"Fuck off, Max. I won and you lost. Can't change that. Arguing won't solve anything. Can't we just move on? Are you really going to ruin this win for me? You promised, Max.”

Max looks at him with not an ounce of affection in his eyes. Not a speck of it. His brain still in race mode probably. That hurts, to be viewed like another driver. Not even like competition or a rival, no, a straight out enemy to defeat and crush under his dominance. It's not like they spent the night together a couple of days ago, cuddled up after a boring film. It's not like Max was running his fingers down Charles' side adoringly for two hours straight until Charles fell asleep almost purring from contentment. Just last night Charles got to his room to spend time with him after that episode with Lewis, later laughing all night like idiots in front of a game of rocket league. No, that looks like it was completely cancelled from his memory. He reverted back to his old self.

"You should be disqualified," Max spits out.

Charles chuckles. Really?

"I guess your team didn't pay the FIA enough for this race. Thank you RedBull, mi ha graziato." Charles rises his hands like in a prayer looking up at the sky before turning his cunning green eyes back to Max "I guess you were right, maybe they actually want me to drive for them and are making me a favor! You should watch your seat, Verstappen."

Max looks murderous.

Charles feels actually in danger for the first time in years. Those veins on his forehead are not looking too good at the moment.

"Everything alright?" They both turn towards the voice. "Max, Christian wanted to talk to you."

"Fucking peachy," growls Max giving Charles one last glare full of— of pure hate honestly, before looking at his watch and leaving.

“Must be about my contract.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Leclerc, before I say something I may regret.”

"Yep, don't say I didn't fucking warn you, Max," yells Charles at Max's retreating back "It will always be like this!"

"Shut the fuck up," it's just a rumble of words barely coming out of Max's tight lips.

"Say 'hi' to Horner for me!"

So, not the ending Charles hoped for but one he expected. His heart is broken, that's obvious he doesn't even have to say that. So many emotions and doubts begins bubbling up inside him, one after another. Max sounded pretty angry, furious even, but Charles is not gonna let him ruin his night. He can't. He deserved it. He can't let him do that. That would made him win. Charles did his best and Max got the worst of it on the race, it was all fair. Just how many times has it happened to Charles? How many? Too many is the only right answer.

Still, he doesn’t feel as good as he hoped for after confronting him.

He's walking back with Andrea and Joris to his car when Seb calls him. He accepts the call with a smile.

"Sooo happy for you Charles, I'm sure you heard that a lot today. So, so proud of you." Then a "Congrats!" Can be heard faintly over the speaker, Charles chuckles.

"Thanks a lot, wish you were here. The both of you."

"I'll try to be there for Monza if you ask really nice. You gonna celebrate?"

"Yep, after dinner with the team."

"You don't sound too excited, something's wrong?"

Charles scoffs, taking in a deep breath. Of course Seb notices everything, he's worse than his own mother "We had a fight," Andrea gives him a side aye questioningly, him and Joris exchange looks. Yep, they are going to find out eventually, sooner than later, he has to tell them soon.

"Yeah? Bad?"

"I don't know, I'm trying not to think too much about it. It's nothing new, it will happen again. I’m giving him space."

"You're right. Look at you! So mature. I raised you like a son, I'm so proud. I'll adopt you right now."

"Did you drink?"

"Uhh—" he hears the other cough "We did take a shot every time someone called you 'Il predestinato', it was less than we expected but I'm not sure about what Kimi put in these... Anyway, enjoy the night kid, think about the rest tomorrow."

"Will do, thanks again. Good night!"

So that's what Charles did. He had a fantastic celebratory dinner with his team, he drank and ate everything that was left in front of him, had an awkward call with John Elkann and then Carlos dragged him and some of the team to the club. They all had a lot of fun. He thought about his win and nothing else.

In the morning he could finally go back home to prepare for the unlucky Monaco race. When he arrives he knows it's time to face the show. Can't escape anymore. Charles leaves all of his things at home before driving to Max's place, he's kind of dreading it because he isn't sure how to act, this has never happened before. He has never had to face the other rival so early on after a heated fight by his own volition, what will the Dutchman do? Throw Spidey at his face and kick him out? Oh god, he should have a plan.

He rings the doorbell - without a plan - sure that Max is at home because the RedBulls always take their plane way before everyone else's. Vic also assured him the cats were with Max so, yeah, he's sure.

When Max opens the door he doesn't even look at him and just walks away leaving the door open and resumes whatever he was doing before he came. Which is tidying up whatever mess Jimmy and Sassy did. Spidey is immediately at his feet purring and rubbing his body on his legs. He picks him up and gives him one big kiss on his forehead for the moment, cuddling him up against his chest.

"Come on Max, don't act like this," huffs Charles "Allons y."

"Don't, Charles. I told you it would take me time." At the very least he sounds calm, that's an improvement. "I really don't want to see you."

"I know but you also said you would be happy for me whenever I won. It's not fair you act like this now," insist Charles with an almost whiny tone to his voice. Max reassured him about that!

"We almost crashed many times. Sure, I am happy for you for the win I guess, and for the fact we are alive."

"Then what?"

"I'm just upset and not in the right mood, leave me alone. What you said was not right, at all."

"Quoi? About you being aggressive? Max-"

Max turns around, red cheeks flushed by the sudden anger "I'm fucking tired of hearing that!" He rises his voice at him "Tired, Charles! So fucking tired! What you said was that I wasn't fair, that I was dangerous," Max takes step after step, closer and closer, "and I'm so fucking tired of hearing it! All my stupid life I've been hearing it non stop and I just can't anymore, least of all from you."

Now he's in front of Charles, breathing the same air as him, locking his freezing blue eyes with Charles'. One hand is gripping tight the front of his red shirt, Charles gulps down.

Charles doesn't even know what to say. He always thought that in some way Max took pride in what they said about him, about his driver style and about his personality too. At least, he looked like it, always with that annoying smirk on his lips. And Charles couldn't blame him, obviously no sane driver would ever want to crash voluntarily, - during a race at least, qualifying is a whole other subject - but if you want to win you have to ride that slithering line. Yes, most of the time when someone says a driver is 'aggressive' or 'dangerous' is used as an insult, plain and simple, but it is also what most driver inspire to be and often told to do so.

If you want to be fast you have to drive to the limit and that comes hand in hand with danger.

Charles intended it as an insult, no running from that, but...

"I'm sorry it upset you so much, I didn't know that," Max's eyes reduce to slits and Charles rolls his "Yes, I would have said it no matter what, I'm an asshole too, nothing new. But I think you should know I said it to get under your skin and nothing more," Charles manages to say out loud after taking a deep breath and fighting his instinct to push Max away from him. Yes, that's an habit that will be hard to change, especially in this position.

Max doesn't look convinced, Charles wouldn't either, but it is the truth. Max would have done the same and has done the same. Saying things they shouldn't say are their usual way of talking.

"Just leave."

Max let's go of him, walking away.

Charles clicks his tongue, he has this strange feeling that if he actually leaves right now then nothing will ever be fine again for a long time.

He can't leave things unresolved like this over something that will happen so many times more.

Charles puts down his cat, - yes, he still had the cat in his hands, in between them, poor cat - and closes the door behind him. Then he walks up to Max who's facing the other way and hugs his back. He is so tense and tight.

"Max, look...It was a good race, it was fun. I never meant to criticize your driving style or whatever. I was just scared of losing a race so dear to me and the team. I was upset and I didn't care about what I was saying. Did you know that fighting with you with our cars is like one of my favorite moments? Whenever you're not there it doesn't feel like racing anymore, it's just not fun, not as exciting. I don't know if I would enjoy racing as much if you weren't there." He sighs holding the other tighter.

"I love the fact that you're aggressive. Sure, I'm still angry that you decided to throw it all at me so much but it's racing. It's our way of racing so it's okay. I love it. I can be angry about it but I don't blame you. And we didn't crash because we are that good, you know? Look at the positives."

Max turns around still in his arms but doesn't return the hug, just looks down at him because he's a little bit taller "You push me to the absolute limit, that's what I've always liked about you, about us," continues Charles.

Charles is lost in his icy blue eyes "Also, I really missed you all weekend, which was very strange," he pouts looking up. He can see the moment Max's walls begins to crack and break down "I wanted to celebrate with you too."

He can finally hear Max sigh defeated and hugs Charles back "Missed you too," he whispers in his hair. Charles feels instantly so warm and goey inside that he wants to cry. Something is clearly wrong with him. They stay like that for a long time, just enjoying the other presence and the comfort they provide. They both needed it after all the thing they've said before.

"Are you still angry?"

"Yep."

"Me too. Want to watch a movie or something?"

Max chuckles but nods. Then, because he's full of surprises, Max picks him up like he weights next to nothing (which Charles fucking wish he did, he'd be a rocket on track). Charles instinctively wrap his legs around the Dutchman's waist and his arms around the wide shoulders. More relaxed then moments before at least.

Max holds him up tightly by his thighs, it's kind of hot, and falls down on the couch with Charles on top of him on his lap

Charles giggles and makes himself comfortable on his thighs, he considers this a win, it's by far his favorite place to be. It's comfy, warm and full of muscle, what more does one want? Oh yeah, it's Max fucking Verstappen's - two times world champion - lap.

"It's like having another fucking cat. You do shitty things and I can't say no," Max complains, he's not even looking at him. Eyes set on the black screen of the tv "It's really fucking annoying." He does look actually angry with himself. And refuses to look directly at Charles' face.

Charles almost feels bad, instead he just smiles even more "You like cats," he states.

"I actually prefer dogs." When Max does look down at him Charles is pouting in complete and utter sadness, eyes watery and bottom lip wobbling, the whole works. A born actor. That's when Max leans in and kisses him.

Repeat, that's when Max kisses him. On the lips. Without anger involved and without asking.

Charles is stunned in place. Completely frozen. A statue. It's just a peck that lasts less then a second but it was the last thing he expected considering that a punch was at the top of his list right now.

When Max barely backs off he smirks, he looks so proud of himself "Ew, disgusting." Charles lets out a loud gasp, offended, and because he's a competitive little shit, unfreezes, smirks back and kisses him again. This time, it's a bit more then peck.

It's a slow and sweet kiss, Charles takes his time to taste and savor the others full lips, leans into him, licks the freckle that always taunts him. Chases the taste he had been craving for so long. He feels Max smile against him, one hand slowly slipping inside his shirt and settle on his narrow waist, it's a heavy weight grounding him, the other one at the back of his nape to hold him in place to not let him escape this time: it's fucking perfect.

When they both move away they are still breathing the same air, noses are still touching but they are both smiling. Charles is red and is getting shy by the second while Max looks kind of smug with his eyes sparkling with fondness.

That's all it takes for Charles admit defeat and hide in the other chest. "That was awful, we should never do it again. I really don't like you."

"Ah, now you're shy?" laughs Max trying to make him look up.

"Leave me alone. Turn on the tv or, I don't know, do something."

"I'm doing something, I'm trying to kiss your terrible mouth again, that way maybe you'll stop saying dumb shit," he holds Charles hands but the other has a tight grip.

"That can't be your excuse every time! Be more creative!"

Max is still battling Charles' attempts of hiding.

"Maybe it’s because it’s true! Let go!"

"Ahh no more, I'm gonna throw up."

That's it, Max decides, before imprisoning his hands holding onto his shirt in one hand and using the other to lift up his very red face "You look like your car."

"Beautiful?" Max doesn't look convinced, Charles tries to break away glaring at his face "When did you get so strong, what the fuck," he whines, tired.

Max shuts him up by kissing him again, more intense this time, closer to the one in Brazil. He pries his lips open and when their tongues meet it's an open battle once again.

Charles isn't surprised that Max kisses like he drives. Should have been expected, really. He learns fast, he's precise and fucking aggressive — the good type. Charles lets him win this time and Max takes the opportunity to devour him completely, taking everything the other gives him and more. Charles quickly discovers that Max kisses like he wants it to hurt, he's pretty sure he tastes blood on his tongue at some point. Charles toes curl in pleasure, his stomach is tingling. Max is literally stealing his breath away.

It's sweet and hot at the same time. It's so typical of Max, of them, and Charles feels like free falling. The Ferrari driver is left breathless and with his lips burning.

"I've been dreaming about this since that fucking race," breathes Max against his spit slicked mouth.

“Yeah?” He says between one gulp of air and another.

Max dives in again.

But Max doesn’t stop there, while Charles regains his breath Max continues his exploration leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses on his jaw and down his throat. At the same time, the hand that was holding Charles' joins the other to push him closer by his lower back, his spine arching at the touch. Max could go insane just from the feeling of having him under his fingers. Charles hands, finally free, trail up from Max's shoulders to grip his hair.

"Max..." whines Charles.

"What?” he's still kissing his neck and whatever is exposed of his collarbone. It kind of tickles but feels so nice and it's so hot.

The moment is brutally interrupted when Sassy lands on Max's shoulders who wasn't expecting the sudden weight - she's a big cat, sorry Sassy - and almost brings the both of them off the couch and onto the hardwood floor. The cat quickly jumps away not finding the spot comfortable.

Moment definitely ruined.

"I'm fucking killing her one day," threatens Max while Charles is dying of laughter. Max glares at him but he still looks pretty amused by the scene. Charles gives him one last fat kiss on his tight mouth pulled into a frown before settling in on the couch, if he stays on the other lap things are gonna turn very quickly. Not that he doesn't want to but, you know, they are still kind of in the middle of an argument and he can see Max is still riled up about it.

He'd like to keep their 'romantic' moments as far as possible from their bad ones. For the health of their relationship. They can't let their fights, especially ones coming from racing, meddle in. At the very least not in the beginning. They would just begin associating the two and then go back to their starting point of complete and utter hate.

Spidey joins them and finally Charles can shower his cat with love. He hasn't seen him in three weeks! That's so long!

"I missed you so much, mon petit. Look at you, you're so big now," he tickles his belly and kisses him all over his little pink nose.

In the meantime Max turns on the tv but doesn't open Netflix like Charles told him, instead he picks up the controller and his headphones.

"Why?? I'm here and you play? Max, come on!"

"I promised Lando a match at Fifa."

Charles stares at him, studies his profile and his posture "You are still very upset," he states.

Max spares him one glance "Of course, I'll get over it eventually.”

"You said I should be disqualified."

"I did and you should have been.”

Charles feels the muscles in his jaw clenching and his teeth grinding. It's very fascinating how quickly he can go from looking at Max with utter adoration to wanting to strangle him using his bare hands. It must be remarkable. A case to study.

He takes a nice deep, calming breath.

Eventually Charles lets it go and rolls his eyes, he took the day off to spend time with his—with Max and he ignores him to play video games with another driver.

"You suck."

He falls down on the couch with his cat and Sassy on his chest, rests his feet on the other lap and sighs.

"You fucking wish."

"See, I told you you would understand when you'd get angry with me. It's awful, I fucking told you."

"Hey Lando, how are you?"

Yep, ignored.

"I hate you."

Still nothing.

“Will you stop playing if I let you fuck me?”

“I’m not dumb.”

“I’ll blow you?”

“Again, not dumb.”

Max doesn’t even look at him!

Charles rolls his eyes, he can say he tried it all.

And to say that boys and girls would be on their knees for him by now in Max’s place. Why did Charles had to pick the worst and most difficult one of them all?

“What did you say?” He vaguely hears Lando say over the headphones.

“Nothing, pick your stupid English team and get over it, mate.”

Charles sighs again frustrated and kind of hungry. He picks up his phone, answers some texts and e-mails, then he gets up and goes to the kitchen.

Now, Charles does know how to cook very simple dishes, but that's it. He explores the kitchen and looks at the very few ingredients left in the fridge that must have been bought by Vic.

If there's one thing he learned in Italy is how to make a delicious pasta al sugo. It's quick, easy and tasty. He begins immediately.

And just because he's petty - he's not going to deny that - he makes lots of noise while cooking.

He knows he's successful when he hears Max say "It's the cats," because said cats are peacefully sleeping on the kitchen table and Spidey is watching him quietly on the counter.

A little over half an hour later he comes back to the living room, hot dish in hand. It looks okay, but cooking in a unfamiliar place is always much harder than you might think so he's not too sure it will also taste okay.

He sits down on the couch and watches the boring game. Fifa, in Charles humble opinion, is that kind of game that you might enjoy only if you're actually playing it, otherwise is so fucking boring. Must be because he's not a huge fan of the sport in general and doesn't watch the real matches very often.

"Not on the couch," Max hisses.

Charles looks at him guilty mid bite, but continues eating his pasta with a lot of red sauce on the very clean and white couch.

"What's that? Jimmy?" He hears Lando faintly say.

"Yeah, Jimmy. On the coffee table, come on," Max is full on glaring at him and judging by the hard set of his mouth he's pretty serious about it.

Okay, Charles doesn't want to makes things worse so he rolls his eyes at him just to let him know how unhappy he is but complies and sets his dish on the little black table, sitting down on the floor.

"Mate, your cats are a menace. What did he do this time? Come on Max, let go of that fucking ball!”

"Trying to destroy my expensive couch."

"I thought you trained them out of that habit."

"Guess not."

Charles pouts at him, it doesn't feel great to be talked about like he's one of his cats. Max fights a smile before he reaches besides him and throws at him a box of tissues.

Charles barely dodges in surprise "This face is worth millions!" he whispers aggressively, Max continues to smile to himself not looking at him.

Once he's done eating he picks out a tissue and cleans his mouth. Yep, that's why Max was laughing at him, great.

Ten minutes pass by and Charles is once again bored out of his mind. He cleaned everything in the kitchen (he left some sauce for Max later if he wants, he's not that horrible) and looked around the place three times. Almost knocked over things just as many times if not more. Max looked like he was moments away from losing his patience and having a stroke.

Along the tour he discovers the pool which he didn’t know Max even had. He wanted to jump in, having nothing better to do, but he didn’t feel like getting wet and the sky is gray and cloudy.

So yeah, the obvious solution is waking up the cats and start throwing their toys at Max. Obviously the pests follow and they all begin using Max as a wall to stop from running and pick up the toy. Occasionally they just jump at him completely careless. It's so fucking funny Charles doesn't think he can hold in his laughter anymore.

"Goal!!!" He hears Lando scream over the headphones. It's the third time he says that. In a row.

"Excuse me one sec.," Max pauses the game and takes off his headphones.

Charles can finally laugh freely, he has tears in his eyes ready to fall.

"Oh my god," he's laughing so hard holding his belly that he doesn't see Max coming at him looking like a mountain lion.

He realises something is wrong once he's up in the air and he's face to face with Max's butt. It's a great butt. If only all of his blood wasn't suddenly coming down to his face he would appreciate it more.

"Max! Where-Where are you taking me? Oh god I can't breath," he's still laughing so that must be why.

Max opens a door, Charles can't see because he's upside down over his shoulder. Then, Max throws him on a bed, he bounces up and down from the force of it.

Max looks at him satisfied, nods and leaves him there, shutting the door behind him, locking it.

"Max! Come on!" He knows it's useless but he tries to at least "Fuck." Max's not coming back any time soon.

He looks around. It's all very neat and clean, there are still some trophies and photos but they seem to be mostly from the karting days. That's cute, he can probably find himself in some of them if he bothered to look closely on the background. The fact that Jos’ face is in the majority of them discourages him from doing that.

So, this isn't exactly how Charles thought he'd end up on Max's bed for the first time. Might as well enjoy it. He hears Max resuming his game so he lays down. It doesn't smell like Max which makes him groan in displeasure. At least Max is playful so that must mean he isn't that angry with him still.

He rolls around a couple of times, making a mess, before settling down and spending time on social media.

When ages later Max comes back Charles doesn't look at him. When he sits down on the bed and tries to reach for him Charles rolls the other way. Two can play this game.

"I lost because of you."

"You prefer Lando and his stupid games over me, I honestly don't care," Charles thanks all the gods that might exist when Pierre calls him.

"Allô, Pierre. I was just about to call you!"

"Hey, what are you doing? I just landed in Monaco, thought I'll pass by your place later in the day if you're free, that okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm really bored I'd love to have you. You can sleep over so we can go to the gym tomorrow morning."

Max dramatically sighs falling back down on his bed. He understands the conversation because he and Pierre speak in a mixture of French and English sometimes.

"Sûr, are you a la maison?"

"No, but tell me when and I'll pick you up."

"Okay, I'll text you later then. I have meeting before I'm free to go."

"Can't wait to see you, Pierre. Love you, bisous. "

"Je t'aime aussi."

Charles rolls around again on top of the sheets wondering out loud if he should call Seb too and ask how he's doing.

"You're a child," says Max, watching him searching for the contact on his phone.

"Takes one to know one."

"Are you really going to leave?"

"Of course, I miss Pierre. I took the day off so I will spend it with someone who wants me there."

"I want you too, shatje. I left you alone for less than an hour," Max grabs him from his hips and arm trying to bring him closer to him. He manages to only roll him over and make him face him.

When they can finally look each other in the eyes Max smiles and kisses him on the forehead and places one hand over his jaw caressing lightly his cheekbone. "I really do want you, you know that."

Charles hums and closes his eyes enjoying the attention "You really are like a cat, you might as well start purring," Max brings him closer again so that he can hug his waist. Charles lets him this time.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You can’t.”

Max dives in anyway, Charles giggles trying to escape the attack.

The rest of the day is spent lazing around between kisses and cuddles (he does pick up Pierre though, despite Max’s loud complains).

Chapter Text

The Monaco race has always brought with it not many good memories for Charles, especially after the win robbed from him last year. Actually, Monaco brought only horrors and nightmares for weeks in its passing. Needless to say he’s an anxious mess and the key to win in this very difficult circuit is having a good start. Spidey makes an appearance on Thursday so at least Charles had his emotional support animal for a little while, when the sounds weren't too loud and the people weren't too many. Not that it ever bothered him, it was fun and Spidey was really curious about it all. More so because Charles has a new background photo of Spidey lounging on his f1 car that Charles managed to make happen with a lot of begging.

It was worth it.

Spidey did almost out both Max and Charles though. Charles was talking with some members of his team while Spidey was lounging on top of his shoulders wearing his Ferrari harness and leash which Charles was not holding. Big error.

Because all of a sudden the black cat jumps down on a sprint, like demons were following him, and escapes from the hospitality, the automatic doors opening for him.

And why did he do that? He saw his second favorite human of course, passing by to go to his own hospitality but then got rudely interrupted by a cat jumping up on his arms as if running from a serial killer.

Charles immediately followed him and took off in a sprint thinking Spidey got scared of something and went hiding only to find him belly up in Max's embrace, who's cooing and kissing the cat like they haven't seen each other in ages (they saw each other the night before).

"I think your cat likes me," says Max to an out of breath Charles, more because he was scared than of the run.

"You think?"

Of course the photos of the incident go viral...

”Charles' cat seems too familiar with Max...👀" @hewinzinMonza

"Spidey didn't think ONE second to sprint to him" @cl16champ

”That's really strange, I've never seen a cat run that quickly for someone before... even for a cat-dog like Spidey” @maxxy33

”Max entered Spidey vision and the cat must have immediately thought "daddy!", LOOK AT THEM!”@lestappie<3

"CAN YOU IMAGINE IF LESTAPPEN DID A PLAYDATE WITH THEIR CATS AHHHHH" @imalivebutded

”Charles does not look surprised, Max and Spidey have to have spent a lot of time together for sure” @forMEla1

...and many other tweets along those lines.

Max laughs when Charles shows them to him saying "That fucking cat sleeps on top of me almost everyday, I'd be surprised if he didn't come to me,” Charles can't even argue. It's fair.

Charles likes one post about Spidey sensing ‘Max's cat-dad energy’ as damage control and calls it a day.

Unfortunately for Charles, Max manages to take the pole position. Charles is starting beside him on the starting grid.

Charles notices that Max is always in his near sight around the paddock, he really appreciates it. It's hard being close on days like these without being too obvious. They learn to walk around with other drivers that are their friends so that they have an excuse to interact with one another, to be there and be of some kind of comfort. They try to act and talk like colleagues enjoying the pre-race, walking quickly around the paddock like they have places to be and things to do and not like they are doing it on purpose to make the cameras go away, make it not worth it to chase after them. Going into the other motorhomes is not a frequent option after all. Especially not in Monaco where everything is squished together.

It’s not even because they want to talk. Actually, most of the times they don’t. Funny right? Not wanting to talk to the person you’re supposedly dating. Typical of them, unconventional like only they can be. Daniel sent them both strange looks when he got them finally in the same room only for them to completely ignore each other, Charles was busy on his phone the whole time actually! You can’t blame him for thinking it was bizzarre to witness, especially because he knows how hard it was for them to spend time together during race week.

And yes, he did ask why they act like a bunch of idiots. The answer? They did not want to risk getting into an argument and ruin each other mood and concentration. They only wanted to see with their own eyes that the other was fine and nothing more. Sweet right? In Daniel’s humble opinion it is still stupid and immature but who’s he to judge? He’s just a spectator of the most unthinkable couple in the world and he has Max to rely on for information. So.

When the lights go out Max is still the leader like it often is in this particular race. It's hard and there aren't many chances to overtake without crashing, especially when the Mercedes' are hungry for points behind them.

Max and Charles's race is the exact copy of the other, when one boxes the other does too and that's how they find themselves behind Lewis' Mercedes' that still has to change the first set of tyres. But then, something happens and his wheels block causing both Max and Charles to almost crash into each other. They see the car spin on their right but the both of them manage to breeze right past. The safety car is immediately called out putting the race on hold.

Charles thought immediately 'this is it, I'm cursed', he just can't race in Monaco.

After a couple of laps the race resumes, Lewis didn't have any major damage and fell back a few positions. Behind Charles there are now Sainz and Russel, and then Norris in the middle of an intense battle with Perez.

"10 laps to go. Push, Charles, push. You got this," they inform him over the radio.

Charles sees an opening on the second to last lap, Max makes a mistake and goes slightly wider. So Charles breaks much later than usual, the RedBull falls behind him a couple of meters and then Charles closes on him to secure the first position. Everyone around him explodes but he knows it's too early to cheer.

He can see Max pushing hard behind him, his front wing is many times at his side threatening to steal back his place. Charles has his heart in his throat but the streets of Monaco are too tight and narrows, Charles knows, these are his streets after all.

During the last lap the tears start to come down on their own.

When he sees the checkered flag he feels like he's gonna pass out, the RedBull is too far behind.

"We won it! Finally!"

"YEEEEEEESSS! YES! Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh my God!"

Charles screams so hard, he can't believe it.

"Sono fiero di te."

"Fucking finally! Mamma mia... Prima volta che..."

"Piangi?"

"Eh forse sì, boh non lo so. "

"We are all so proud of you. Fantastic race. Bravissimo!"

And that's Fred.

"Grazie mille, a tutti. Ottimo lavoro. Merci, papa, Jules et toute ma famille. Ceci est pour vous."

He parks, takes out the steering wheel and gets out of the car. He stands up tall on top of the fiery red car, cheers and screams up towards the sky. When he comes down he kneels down towards the Ferrari and kisses it through the helmet. Such a fucking beautiful and fast car.

Then, he hugs Arthur so tight, his mama, Lorenzo, and finally his team that are still screaming and pounds hard his back. Makes it feel real and not like a dream.

When he sees Max they hug so tight he's surprised they have both their feet still on the ground "I'm so proud of you, Charles. Good race," says Max holding his hand between them and slapping his shoulder before he quickly walks away.

Next he hugs Carlos who does pick him up shouting congratulations and making the crowd explode once again.

He takes off his helmet, his face is wet from sweat and tears. He thanks the girl that gives him something to wipe his face and a bottle of water. It was probably the most intense and hottest race of the season yet.

"Charles Leclerc! You can finally say you won the Monaco gp, how do you feel?"

"I feel like I'm on top of the world. This race means a lot to me, my Papa and Jules... And as a Monegasque a feel very proud. It was a very hard battle with Max until the last lap but I'm so happy. Yeah, I have had such bad luck on this track over the years so it feels extra good to win it. I was already crying even before winning."

"How was the car? Did you have any strategy problems?"

"The car was fantastic, so good honestly. That's why me and the team were confident to push harder on the first set of tires and save the other set for the last laps. Which worked!"

"Do you have a couple of word to your home town?"

"Merci beaucoup pour le soutien.  J'espère vous avoir rendu fier de cette victoire, piloter et gagner ici à Monaco est littéralement un rêve. Merci encore!"

"Thanks you, Charles. Enjoy the podium!"

After the celebratory shower of champagne during which The Prince participated and cried, after hearing his Monaco anthem in Monaco Charles can finally sit down and take a full breath. Fill his lungs after the intense pressure. His heart is rabbiting more than ever, still anxious that he'll wake up on his bed in less than ten seconds. It feels surreal. He did it. He actually did it!

It all happened so fast, between an interview and another, photos, dives, hugs and congratulation from his fellow drivers. Now everything is calm again. The garage is polishing his car, the crew is putting away the tools back like per routine.

"Charles, the conference is almost ready," Silvia reminds him.

Carlos and him catch up with Max in front of the conference room. Max smiles at him and places one hand on his shoulder, Charles does the same behind his back, before they separate to all go in and sit down. The look that Carlos sends his way reminds him they still haven't talked properly.

"So my question is for Charles and Max, what do you think of Lewis’ accident today?"

"I mean, he was in front of me. When I saw the smoke I immediately slowed down and moved to the side, it's a miracle we didn't all crash."

"I agree, I saw Max slowing down so at one point we were wheel to wheel. We both saw the car spinning and I swear we both looked at each other in surprise because we couldn't believe it."

"Yep," laughs Max recalling the scene "In such a tiny street too.”

"Exactly, I'm really glad it didn't cause any major incident but thinking about it now it was really funny. If we had our radio connected you would have heard me and Max going 'What the fuck'."

Max laughs with him agreeing "I did actually say that but I didn't press the button."

"Same, I just asked if he was okay when I recovered. It all happened so fast."

Max nods, Carlos says the same thing as him even if he didn't see it directly.

"What about your race, Max?"

"Well, nothing went wrong but that's not surprisingly in Monaco. I guess Charles was good at taking advantage of that slip I made in the end, he drove a fantastic race," he turns towards Charles "I heard you took a dive in the harbor? You could have just asked to use the RedBull’s pool."

"Didn't you say it was full of... dirty things?"

"Ah, well," Max forgot about that, he did see some nasty things get done in that pool, that's why he has never done the famous dive.

Charles glares at him "Anyway, I promised Fred we would do it whenever I'd win here a loooong time ago, I keep my promises."

"So, it looks like you two made up after the last weekend. Did you talk?"

The easy atmosphere immediately freezes with the question.

"I'd like if we are never asked this again. We are competitive drivers, we fight, it happens. Don't dwell on it every time to cause more drama."

"Yes, it's not even relevant to the race. Is that how you want to waste your question time?"

After that there are no more jokes, both Charles and Max just too upset to receive always the same questions over and over again.

"I don't get how it's any of their business. It's not a reality show," complains Charles once they're free to go back. Max follows him because the two garages are pretty close.

"That's why I have always hated these awful interviews, I just want to drive, win and go home."

"Same, some times privacy doesn't exists anymore. Every time the same questions, give up at some point, why should I tell you if a talked with you or whoever."

"If they knew how many fights happen in the paddock we'd stay hours here, could you imagine? Jesus."

"I gotta say that you two are the hot topic of the season and you do fight in front of the cameras a lot so, yeah. I'm not defending them but you know, keep those things to yourselves next time. If you want privacy then do certain things in private."

"I know. You're right. But if I didn't ask him to stop now then they will ask every single time even when I answer. That's what I'm tired of."

"You did the right thing now go cool off. I'll pick you up later?" Asks Carlos putting one hand on his shoulder.

"No, I'll meet you there. Thank you though," pats him on the back Charles.

"No problem, I'll see you tonight," he ruffles his hair "Bye, Max."

Max waves at him "How's your relationship going with him?" he asks once Carlos is out of earshot.

"It's...I don't know, okay, I guess. It's like he has many personalities, I don't mind," shrugs Charles.

He really means it. Most of the things Charles does not like about Carlos are not entirely his fault, he's very different from Charles, puts himself first and foremost. Carlos is anything but a team player and Charles often gets the worst of it. It's annoying but he really can't blame him. He certainly does not like Carlos and his family talking shit behind his back but he would rather not fight with him directly. Charles always preferred to let their racing speak for themselves. After all, face to face, Carlos has treated him well most of the time.

Max knows bits and pieces about all their difficulties over the years as he is already aware of how Carlos works. One thing both Charles and Max can agree on is that they don't necessarily like him as a friend for very different reason. He's still fun to have around and Charles, whenever he can, does treat him with respect and friendliness.

"How can you still find good in him after all the times he screwed you over?"

At that Charles bursts out laughing, complete with tears and everything "Oh Max, you don't know the half of it," he manages to say after a few seconds "Carlos doesn't know any better, I can't blame him for who he is. I can be mad, sure, but I won't treat him badly because of it. And what should be said about yourself then?"

"I've always treated you with respect," states Max.

Charles laughs again, "Did you??" He asks, "Really?"

Max does look less sure of himself, "The difference is that you know me and what I mean," he tries to explain, Charles continues looking at him as if he's ridiculous.

"Sure Max, whatever you say...."

At the very least Charles looks amused by it all. Max does not, he feels frustrated.

Yes, Charles and him had their many, many moments together, both good ones and very bad ones. What he's sure about is that whatever Charles did to him had never made Max think less of him, no matter how Max reacted. If anything, every time Charles actually got to him he kind of admired him. He has always surprised him and that's something Max has always appreciated it because no one else could quite do it like Charles did. Ever.

Now, he can say with confidence he hates the mere thought of Charles thinking that Max genuinely might have put him among the people Max does not respect, more than whatever shit Charles pulled when that happened. Look how much he changed already.

"Anyway, are you partying tonight?"

"Yep, I'm taking out my family to dinner first. Do you wanna come?" He doesn't even think about it, he opens the doors.

"To your family dinner? With the prince?"

Charles is immediately red "No! I meant to the party!" He snaps embarrassed turning around to look at Max who's following him.

"So you don't want me to meet your family? That hurts, shatje."

"That's— Fuck you, I don't like you,” Charles scoffs waving at the people that say goodbye to him.

(“Ciao Charlie! Sei stato un grande!”

“Ciao, ciao Charles! Riposati!”

“Ciao ragazzi, grazie ancora.”

“Ciao principessa! Non divertiti troppo!”

Laughter.

“Ciao, ciao, una buona serata, grazie.” )

"You kiss every person you don't like like that? Should I be concerned?"

"Yes, actually. If you keep doing that tonight I'm gonna kiss everybody who's there," he turns right, entering the tiny hallway that goes straight to his driver room.

"You would kiss Carlos?"

"In a heartbeat, wouldn't you?" He gives Max a side-eye with a frown, has Max seen the man? Because yes, he can be insufferable and annoying but he's got a face. A good one.

"I think my hands are full with one Ferrari driver who doesn't even want me to meet his family."

"I haven't met your family, why should you?"

"You've met my sister and my nephews, already. My mom would love you, adopt you, and make you eat until you burst. Dad would make you burst literally," he makes the explosion sound with his mouth and mimes it too.

Charles looks at him scared for his life, Max laughs "It's okay, he wouldn't. Probably,” he shrugs.

(He would.)

Charles doesn't look convinced. He actually has met Max's family, his dad obviously. Step-siblings and cousins too actually, the kids of their families are racing on go-karts together. Charles wants to continue living his life in all honestly. He's now sure Jos hates him with every fiber of his being. Never actually showed him before though, he thought he hated everyone in general. One time they even had a little chat before the China gp. It was really awkward and Charles could sense that the older man didn't exactly like him. It was downright terrifying.

Now he can confidently say Jos does not like him. Which, well, Charles doesn’t mind. That man could drop dead the next minute and he would be happy. It’s not what Max would want though. Max would be sad and he does not wish to see him like that, especially because of his dad.

Still, Jos is a human piece of shit whose only talent is terrorize and abuse people—kids.

And by the way, Max has nothing to complain about. Obviously he has met his family already, even if it wasn't for the whole 'been around each other since babies' thing. Max lives in Monaco, in the tiny city of Montecarlo where if you walk straight for ten minutes you either end up in Italy or France. Of course they have met sometimes.

He thinks about it though, about the question, looking anxiously at the white walls and then asks hesitant "Do you want to meet my family?"

"I was joking, I don't think we are quite there yet, right?" Max leans against his driver room door, the stupid piece of paper to not enter still attached. Max learned it's there for a reason, Charles sleeps a lot and if he doesn't he's insufferable beyond tolerance. It's also very annoying and something Max complains about often because whenever they find the time between schedules to be together what does Charles? Sleep.

"I don't know, you're already inside the Ferrari hospitality. That's a big step, I'd say,"

"Oh fuck," Max looks around, takes in all the red surrounding him horrified. He didn't even notice, just followed Charles mindlessly thinking they'd go to his motorhome.

Charles laughs and let him in his room "Don't worry, they all mostly left or pretended you didn't exist."

Max sighs in relief, he trusts Charles with these things at least. They both don't want any kind of rumors circling around and decided to be very discreet about it all. Despite what Spidey might want.

"Seriously though, I appreciate the offer but I have my own party to attend. Maybe we'll see each other, try not to fall down in the sea this time, ja?."

Charles rolls his eyes, and begins taking off his t-shirt to change in normal clothes. Max gives him a long whistle "Look at that, I have a stripper at my pre-party."

Charles blushes but continues to change mumbling a "Shut up, dickhead," all the drivers have seen each other naked multiple times, it's nothing new.

Now that Charles thinks about it, he wonders how his family would react at the sight of Max. His brothers are easy to predict, they would not believe him, laugh and make fun of Charles. After that they would be concerned about their brother sanity and probably convince Charles to leave his rival. But they wouldn't be totally mean to him, they would accept Max once they get that they're serious about it and then just argue about cars all evening. He's more curious about his mum.

Would she be disappointed? In him? She knows he likes both boys and girls, that's not the issue, but maybe she had always hoped in her heart for him to bring home a nice girl? Would she never talk to him? Resent him? Be angry that he chose his enemy out of everyone in this world?

She never really showed any kind of anger toward Max specifically. She always shared Charles negative feelings when he was younger to make him feel better but he's sure she didn't mean it. On the other hand, she probably would hug Max and treat him like his son, calling him 'mon chou' and caressing his cheek lovingly. Charles is pretty sure his mum saw how Max's dad behaved around him, she always had that sad look around her eyes whenever he was in the vicinity. Always searched for Max's mother that often wasn't allowed to be on track, per Jos' orders. Charles didn't notice until he was much older. Would she be happy for him then? Proud that they finally make each other happy?

Charles doesn't even know what to say. Maybe he's spiraling too much in his head but they would enter the event together, Max would probably be by his side standing awkward as hell. Then what? Arthur would probably make some joke about Max being surely lost. He'd say it in french because he actually isn't that brave to say certain things to someone's face, no matter what he thinks. What does Charles do? While his maman and Lorenzo look at him expectantly, he'd turn to Max and say what exactly?

"While we are on the topic. I do want to know something...I mean, I know we are, you know, something, but like can I call you my boyfriend? Or is that too early? You didn't even ask me? We are still trying to figure eachother out after all. I don't want to put pressure on you or anything but it's kinda bothering me right this moment. I didn't really think about it until now and... I don't know, what do I say about you? I can't introduce you as my friend, Jèsus..." at this point Charles is just saying whatever is coming up his mind while trying to change clothes and distract himself in the process.

Max steps closer once he has put on his jeans and makes him look at him in the eyes by holding his jaw softly in the palms of his hands.

"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" He asks searching with his blue eyes his gaze. Charles is blushing so hard that if he looked at him directly in the eyes he would explode in a puddle.

"I mean, do you?" is Charles' smart reply.

"I don't know, you're the one that keeps telling me you don't like me. I would be honored to be called yours," and Max's sincerity is sickening.

"I don't like you," the other responds and then pouts "but I do want you to be my boyfriend."

"Then it's decided. I've always been serious about you, Charles. I'm really gonna do everything to make this work," Max kisses him lightly on the mouth. That's what Charles has missed all day after the win, he realizes, now he's complete. Charles gives him a kiss too, longer this time. Chasing after the taste when Max begins to pull away, fingers caressing down Charles' naked abdomen, feeling the goosebumps rising on his skin, before they are fully apart from one another.

"Me too but don't choose Lando over me ever again," Charles gives him one last peck at the corner of his upturned lips before spinning around and tidy up whatever he left on the floor.

"Nog steeds met dit verhaal," says Max sounding exasperated "You told me you'd kiss Carlos!"

"Of course, have you seen him? My God. Honestly there are very few drivers I wouldn't kiss or more," Charles winks at him briefly just to see his expression, so worth it.

"What the fuck."

"I should say that, we have an awesome grid. It's a shame Daniel and Mick aren't here more often."

Charles takes his things and opens the door ushering the other out quickly to not risk anyone seeing them.

"And Lewis, god..." he continues.

Max can feel that familiar eye twitch returning.

"Where are you going tonight again?" Whispers Max concerned.

"To party, of course," answers lightly Charles to be annoying and enjoying watching the other suffer.

"You're terrible."

“And your romantic skills still need work!”

Max’s groan is loud.

__

Unfortunately Charles doesn't see Max all night. Everyone wants a piece of Charles that night so he's even surprised he has all of his limbs attached to his body. Had to hide behind the Monaco flag, which thinking back was not a wise choice. People just continued to hug him, congratulate him, flirt with him and give him drinks. Which he didn't accept of course, he's not crazy yet. He'd end up dying of alcohol poisoning or drugged if he's unlucky. But those are the reasons why he couldn't move from his yacht after the party at Jimmy'z, especially if he had to go to the RedBull one.

He wakes up still in his clothes and his phone ringing "Allô?" he clears his throat "Oui?" he still has his eyes closed.

"Are you alive?" It's Max's voice, thank fuck. He has nightmares that sometimes it's Elkann calling him in the mornings. It's not an irrational fear and it scares him to death. It happened. Too many times. One would think Charles learnt his lesson but you know, he actually likes living on edge. He sighs curling up on the sheets with one hand reaching to pet the black cat by his side, glad that it’s just Max.

"I think so," he yawns.

"Did I wake you up? It sounds like it," he chuckles. Max's voice is rough too so he must have woken up not too much earlier.

"Oui...What time is it?" He finally opens one eye, the sun's shining bright, he shuts it immediately.

"It's past noon. Anyway, just wanted to make sure you came back alive and didn't end up on a stranger boat or something."

"No no, it was great. Andrea and Joris made sure to take me home."

"Okay. So...did you kiss anyone in the end?"

Charles smiles sitting up "I don't think so, lot of things happened so I might have. I remember Lewis looking really goo—" he begins but he's quickly interrupted.

"I don't want to hear it, please," he sounds exasperated and honest.

"Don't worry, I don't kiss and tell," he yawns stretching "Anyway, if you want to come over later in the day I'm free whenever."

"Sure, bye shatje."

"Salut Max."

He rests on the bed another couple of minutes before getting up. He eats some leftovers because his stomach can't stop growling and then makes himself a hot bath.

Max is at his door when he's finished, it's afternoon, comfy clothes are on and hair still damp and messy.

"Hi," greets him Charles, kissing him on the cheek while Spidey tries to climb up his legs having recognized him. He's a little demon with sharp claws.

"Hey, babe. How are you?" He leaves one hand on his lower back.

"I'm good, just tired. You? Had a good night?"

Max pecks his lips "You were phenomenal yesterday, don't know if I said that," and he kisses him one more time, briefly.

Charles blushes "Thank you."

Max smiles at him, he has the big black cat in his arms, Charles watches them with complete and utter fondness "Anyways, of course, we throw the best parties. I feel great, I think I'm starting to build a strong tolerance."

Charles lets him sit on the sofa "Do you want something to drink?"

Max shakes his head patting the seat next to him, Charles easily slides in under his arm cuddling up against his side. "Have I ever told you that Horner actually approached me last year? Said that if I wanted to he would reserve me a seat as a second driver because Ferrari didn't deserve me. I wasn't kidding whenever I told you that."

Nobody ask why that was the first thing that came to mind.

Max gasps. He really can't believe it Chris would tell him directly.

"Are you serious? Oh my god. He does like you but I didn't think that much."

And that's true, the one that doesn't like him as much is Helmut Marko. Or technically, Helmut Marko has this tendency to change his mind quite often. If Charles had to take a guess though, he would say the man hates him. Horner did like Charles a lot on the contrary. It's known that he's been more interested in young talents but that's not all. You have to be a certain way to be a champion. A RedBull champion none the less. You must have a specific personality, strong and fierce. RedBull is that type of team that doesn't sugarcoat anything, zero. It was the main reason why Pierre Gasly wasn't a good enough match, while people like Max thrive. It was how he was raised after all. If you make a mistake they will tell you're wrong without fail, will make you feel like shit; if someone is faster they don't waver to remind you, they tell you what time lap they need, they pretend the results and you have to deliver otherwise they won't hesitate to sack you in a snap. Just like that. They don't bother to hesitate.

And it's not to say that they are mean, not like in Ferrari until last year. They also would tell you you were wrong - even if you weren't but that's besides the point - but the way they would do it was completely different. Redbull did it with your benefit in mind, make you grow, use their knowledge to make you as comfortable with the car as possible, they would shape you in an a valuable asset and profit off of you. Ferrari wasn't exactly like that, they wanted the team as a whole to appear perfect and without any flaw. Their criticism was more often than others straight out insults.

It wasn't a good environment to succeed as a driver. Not with Binotto in charge.

Charles took his sweet time to let go of the coddling of the Scuderia Ferrari over the years. He was loved in the academy and adored when he first came to the team. Spent years under a sea of red and yellow, spoon fed knowledge and skills. Meanwhile he took his sweet time to sharpen his nails and finally show his teeth when it all blew up and the team showed his true colors. Horner immediately took interest. Wolff did too, actually.

"Yeah, I remembered because yesterday he told me that earlier this year someone joked about me looking great in blue too."

"I'm gonna kill him," Max's eyes are full of betrayal, "You aren't liked as much now, I'll tell you that. All my damages has been your fault. You are fucking expensive, you know?"

Charles laughs at that and then grins proudly, Max huffs at him but a smile is threatening to slip.

"He might be an asshole but I wouldn't mind too much driving for him."

"Don't say that, look around. This is a shrine to Ferrari."

Really, Charles obsession is in every inch of this house. Max feels kinda intimidated to all this love and passion. Will Charles ever care about something like he does for Ferrari? Will Max ever reach this level?

He's scared Charles will crumble and succumb under the Italian team, his heart too full and his head too focused on one thing and one thing only to ever make enough space for Max.

But looking at him, at his smile and dimples, the way he gazes at the photos and trophies with devotion and attachment… Max thinks he could carve and share a piece of his own heart for Charles to dedicate only to the both of them.

He's willing to share Charles with Ferrari if it means keeping him like this: happy.

"I know, I'm not gonna switch. It's my team for life... or until they find someone who's better than me."

"They won't, that's impossible," he tightens his grip. Charles is unique, not perfect on track but impossible to replicate. If Ferrari ever did let him go for some rookie Max’s grudge for them will hit a new bottom of the pit. Will never forgive them for abandoning the driver that would bleed for them, no question asked. Because that's what they would do, abandon him, just ditch him. For sure it won't be Charles leaving. He's stupid like that.

"You're right," Charles sends him a cheeky smile, Max clicks his tongue and quickly replies "Let me finish! Better than you there's only me, and I'm not joining them." Charles rolls his eyes groaning "Anyway, tell me what you did last night."

And when Max starts talking he doesn't stop. He explains animatedly how there was a bull made of ice where people constantly poured alcohol on so that they could drink from its balls.

(It got disgusting at some point, commented Max.

"Did you drink from it, Max?"

"No..."

"You're sickening. Don't you dare come closer."

Max doesn't listen).

Then he tells him how there were so many mini RedBulls car full of bottles that they all ended up floating in the pool. Martin Garrix, a dear friend, also showed up with Daniel at some point. With that followed Lando when he heard about it, then it was all kind of a blur of dancing and singing.

And Charles listens, enjoys watching him recalling the fun things he did with his close friends that came from the Netherlands and his crew who he loves very much but won't admit to. His engineers lifted him up and made him do a parade all around the yacht, he was very embarrassed but too drunk to care. They did throw him in the pool in the end with all the mini cars, which really hurt his back and scratched his arms a bit. It all proves how they are not so different after all, they are both completely in love with their life and their teams.

"That's pretty much it. Then I got home and slept. And look at that, I didn't kiss neither Daniel or Lando."

"Of course, you're mine. Shame they didn't come over to my party. It was full of beautiful rich people, it was pretty tamed compared to yours though." He purses his lips, parties and strategy aren't Ferrari strong suit but they are working on it "We did have a chocolate fountain-thing in the shape of a horse though. I discovered later on that it was chocolate liqueur and everyone was drunk on it."

It was so sweet. Straight sugar down everyone's throats that left them with loose limbs and carefree heads.

"You should have come over, I'll tell them to make a statue of a little ramping horse next time. I'm now sure Christian wouldn't mind," he's still annoyed about that.

Charles huffs, he would love to have more parties with Max "Yesterday I couldn't come even if I wanted to, people continued to shove me around for a hug or—" he stops, shakes his head. He knows Max would not appreciate Charles telling him that the sponsors were getting braver the more drinks they chugged. The old hands of rich people reaching for him with too much confidence and fierceness.

Max would riot if he knew.

Charles has spent years observing his rival, studying his behavior to learn how to battle with him, enter into his brain to know what he would do beforehand. He did that with everyone that could be a threat on track and Max was definitely one of them. He was the hardest to analyze too, because he was so stonecold, his face was a wall of cement and did not give anything away. It was so difficult to read him the more older he got. Still, Charles easily picked up that Max was a possessive, protective little shit.

At first it was the little things like not sharing food and candies with other kids, which was already strange enough considering he had a sibling growing up. Then it was the way he gripped his trophies, how he would not let it get away from his field of vision. His kart was untouchable without him there too. Charles at first thought he was scared of what his father would say in the event that something broke but no, Max would downright glare at his father too. Most of all, apart from objects, Max was protective of his girls: his mom and little sister.

It was rare for girls of their age to be on track, especially back then so this meant Vic was quite popular around boys. Charles knew a couple of friends who had a little crush on the blonde and they tried how they could: they invited her in their games, talked to her, gave her toys or candies…

Well, Max did not appreciate. He would stalk Victoria like a dog, growl at her side like a Rottweiler if someone got too close. Vic always complained which ended up in arguments and then she would lock herself in their motorhome. Max had a smile stretching his lips each time.

This ‘theory’ was confirmed the moment they began seeing each other. Max worked in silence, in the background, observing closely who would come and talk to Charles as if he would not notice the glare on his back. He’s not that clueless. Besides, the hand on his waist was omnipresent these days and the one on his thigh under the conference’s table did not go unnoticed.

Charles would love to complain but until it became a problem he didn’t mind, actually he quite liked it. Max knows how to be subtle but efficient and Charles thrives at the attention. It’s a win-win situation.

Those are the main reasons why he could not tell the whole truth, not yet at least. Max can theorize, sure, he can guess, but he will not hear the details coming from Charles’ mouth anytime soon. He knows that the moment Max learns what actually happened inside the scuderia he would be a force of nature. Charles did not want that, he would make a bigger deal out of anything. It’s big but not that much to deserve a Verstappen’s anger, especially one caused by harassing a person he cares about.

He will not allow Max - nor Seb - to destroy his team.

For Charles it was all relatively normal, since being part of the Ferrari Academy these parties were reserved for this kind of treatment. He was there to please, they would tell him so. He had to make them feel appreciated to make them invest in him more, keep them with the team. At times it got too far, Charles is aware of that, he's not naïve. Seb was always scolding him and them. Charles knows it's wrong, that he's the only one to have been given this 'role' out of all the drivers. It has its perks though, gives him some power over some people. It is also extremely exhausting and scary at times. He noticed he gets over it quicker with experience. He still can’t decide wether that’s good or bad.

Max notices the slip of tongue of course, he narrows his eyes, probably wondering what he was about to say. Charles recovers quickly "Anyway, now that Pierre doesn't drive for the RedBull's teams I can't use him as an excuse to visit anymore."

It stings hearing him say that Pierre is Charles excuse, not Max. He can't say that. Max gets it. He'd have to visit Carlos if he wanted to be welcomed in something Ferrari related, and even then it's a stretch. Still hurts to hear though.

"I think we are all past these old traditions, we are just two teams at the end of day. It's a party, who cares."

"Yeah, maybe," he bites his bottom lip, Charles knows he's right. No one cares that much. It's just something that was drilled into his head, expected from him to not mix like they are two different species. If Mattia was still here he would have minded much, much more.

If Mattia Binotto would even have heard a rumor about a party where both him and a RedBull driver was there he would have fired him probably, Elkann's opinion be damned. That's why in Mexico Charles got away as soon as he could, that party was even hosted by RedBull. Big no-no.

His past pt had this strange responsibility, this big opinion about Ferrari status symbol that he could have never bore the thought about him, especially him, mingling with the enemy. The sponsors too, they would consider him dirty almost, which is so fucking stupid, honestly. It's like they are in mediaeval times with royal blood that should not be tainted with other houses.

"Did they hurt you, though? I mean, you are the prince of Monaco. I hope they didn't touch you or something."

"No, they didn't, I'm just sore all over," Charles eyes light up "Funny you bring up the prince because he actually came over for a minute!”

Everytime the prince is mentioned Max remembers the awkward dinner they had. Full of forced conversations, strange food and extravagant place. It was awful.

"That doesn't count, you know him personally. He was crying for you."

"He's a good man."

"Seriously speaking, you would tell if you were hurt, right? You know you can tell me. I saw them getting... handsy with you sometimes," and just thinking about it, about those scenes that are imprinted into his mind makes his blood boil. He remembers these strange instances of Charles and some older guy during numerous occasions and he never thought much of it. Always justified it that Charles wanted it, he was leading them on because that's what Charles does: trick people with his charm.

Charles can hold his fight with Max therefore he was for sure strong enough against some old aged man after his pretty eyes. Max never thought twice about it.

But now, knowing a little more about what type of person Charles is, knowing the glimpses of whatever was going on in the Ferrari team. Max feels both incredibly ashamed and furious.

And Charles of course knows all about the anger Max is holding. He knows Max would not let it go, would follow him like a bodyguard if he told him everything. He absolutely cannot risk that. Charles appreciates it all the same but it's simply not possible letting Max interfere with his job and the character he built.

"You don't have to worry, Max. Whatever they throw at me I can handle it."

"You will tell me though? If someone's bothering you?" Insists Max, he will not let Charles escape from this and he knows Charles might not tell the truth anyway. He's stupid like that or maybe he's just scared to admit something so private. Whatever the reason might be, the least Max can do is guilt trip him, so that if something ever happens along those lines - which he hopes to whatever god exists does not happen - Charles will think about Max. And that's enough for now, to let him have the choice to escape the situation and to let Max try and help him.

Charles nods after some thought, doesn't look too sure about himself but he sounds genuine when he says "Of course, if you're there I will tell you," which isn't much but it's a start. "Do you want to play Mario Kart?"

They end up on the floor with their backs against the couch. It's more comfortable Charles insisted, the other still isn't one hundred percent convinced. Needless to say Max absolutely destroys him at Mario Kart. Charles keeps pushing, shoving him around and kicking to distract him but it doesn't seem to work. At all "Are you a fucking pro?!"

Max laughs finishing once again first "You're just bad, it isn't surprising," he smirks.

"Another one."

They play again but this time Charles doesn't want to lose. He has lost ten consecutive rounds for fuck's sake.

"Actually, I have to confess something that I didn't really want to tell you," he says when the last lap begins "Yesterday me and Pierre, we were dancing, non? We were pretty drunk..." he sees Max looking at him from the corner of his eye "Please, please don't get angry Max but I think we took things too far and we might've—"

"What?"

He throws the blue shell at his car. Charles throws the controller on the floor finally victorious.

"Yes! I won! Take that, Verstappen!"

"You cheated!"

"It's called strategy, we are kind of experts now."

Max is suddenly on top of him and his back hits the hard floor. He restrains his hands on top of his head and leans down over his face "Stop trying to make me jealous, liefje."

Max's body completely blocks the sunlight coming from the huge window behind him.

"Is it working, chéri?" Charles lips stretch in a cunning smile, his head lifted up from the floor to close the distance between their faces to the bare minimum.

"What do you think?" he growls lowly.

Charles laughs and locks his legs around the other waist bringing him closer to kiss him better "Don't worry, I have you, why would I ever want someone else?" He asks looking up in his icy blue eyes before capturing his lips once again in a deep kiss. "Besides, trust me, if I ever wanted to I would have kissed them all a long time ago, the opportunities were plenty."

Well, by them all Pierre isn't included but Max isn't ready to hear that.

Max looks at him baffled "That doesn't really help? You're a menace."

"Well, the opportunities will be even more plenty, haven't you heard?" and that tone of voice, that sly smile, Max knows Charles is going to say something he will not like. "Rumor has it that a certain seven times world champion will join Ferrari."

And Charles looks radiant and glowing, proud like he won a well planned game of chess.

Max's voice sounds in awe and face looks surprised when he asks "You pushed Sainz out?" the driver under him just shrugs "You managed to convince Hamilton? How? What did you do?"

And Charles looks directly at Max's eyes when he says "I guess he's really fond of me. He can't wait to be by my side, he looked really happy and hopeful." If there isn't smoke coming out of Max's hears then soon there will be "I'm getting good at collecting Formula 1 world champions, aren't I? All wrapped around my pinkie," he strokes the other cheek with delicate fingers.

He's the devil.

Max scoffs pulling away from the touch "I'm not wrapped around anything."

"Really? Then I guess I should go visit Lewis."

Max laughs. Charles has always talked big, a master at using words to get everything his way. Max knows he's being played with, he knows that and still... It's so hard not to fall for it, Charles is there, under him, looking as beautiful as a dream, who wouldn't want him?

"Stop playing."

Max saw perfectly clear how Hamilton looked at Charles.

"You think I'm joking?"

"I know you are."

"Go look at my phone, Lewis promised me a really good time. I'm sure you have heard how great he is in bed, non? An attentive lover. I don't get why I should waste my time with you if you can't give me what I want."

And the thing that most bothers Max is the fact that he can't fucking tell if he's being serious or not, can't tell if it's a lie or he's telling the truth. His voice is the same as when he's talking about his day. It's infuriating.

Max lets more of his weight drop on the other hips earning a groan and a twitch from pleasure from the man under him. Then, he uses one hand to trace along Charles' face, from his temple, his eyes, down his mouth and neck with one finger. Once there he circles it gently, wrapping his hand around it, placing barely any pressure but enough to make Charles' breath itch and his pupil dilate.

"Really? He can't make you look like this."

"I bet Lewis can make me look even better, step up your game, Verstappen." Max can feel the vibration of his voice under his hand.

Max’s blue eyes darken as he comes closer "Stop saying his name." He hisses, warning Charles. He doesn't look scared at all, if anything Charles looks like he's enjoying himself. Max feels his blood boiling hot.

Charles giggles "Shut up and kiss me or I'll call Lew—" and Max does. Purely to shut him up, he should've done it ages ago if he knew how well it worked. Like a charm every time.

Their tongues are eager to meet and taste, the corners of Charles mouth curl up in a grin when he feels how passionate Max is, he's just so content to have his complete focus on him.

One of Max hands goes down to slip under his shirt and lightly brushes his fingers up on his waist and ribs, so light that Charles gets goosebumps. Max smirks when Charles lets out a breathy moan and begins to struggle in his hold. Charles tighten his legs to slot their hips together but Max resists. "So eager, Charles. Be patient."

Charles groans in frustration rolling his eyes. He has been patient all his life with Max and now that he has him on top of him, he has to wait? Unfair.

So, with a firm thrust of his hips he switches positions. Max looks completely caught off guard "Don't ever think I'll let you do as you please, Verstappen."

Charles sits there, on Max's thighs, enjoying the view with a smile. Having, feeling, Max under him is a blissful experience and he will savor it until he can. Charles can clearly make out the shape of Max's dick against his ass, poking at him. So, Charles gives a confident grind against it.

At that Max quickly regains his composure and as much as he likes having Charles on top of him, he's pretty sure he'll like it even more once he's under him. So, he furrows his eyebrows displeased, brings his hands up Charles hips and with a strong grip around his waist Max manages to pick Charles and reverse back the positions, just like they were at first.

"You think you can keep your word?"

Charles doesn't look surprised instead he is glaring at him like a wild animal. Max's hold on his hands doesn't feel like is going to let go any time soon, he tries to escape to no vain, while Max lifts up his shirt to expose his belly and chest. Then, he backs off to admire his artwork. Charles is breathing hard with red plump lips and cheeks, hair completely messed up and his sun kissed skin is covered in goosebumps.

"Look at you. So beautiful like this, verdomd verbluffend, shatje."

Charles intensifies his glare, Max's smile widens "Max..." he whines wanting him closer to him, he wants to feel him again.

And hearing his name mixed with a moan brings a rush of endorphins through Max's veins, leaving him almost high.

"What?" He takes one finger and begins trailing it all over his belly, making his abs clench under his feather-like touch, then up towards his chest and nipples, enjoying how they harden with every stroke.

"Come on, touch me," he pleads kind of out of breath, too many emotions and stimulations are happening at the same time.

"I am touching you," he says bluntly, clearly entertained with how the muscles ripple on command.

"I want more," he whimpers frustrated when Max pinches one of his nipples.

"I don't think you deserve it after what you said."

"About Lewis being better than you?"

Blue eyes are on the green ones in millisecond "Stop that."

"Come on, Max. Please."

"Can't hear you."

He brings his hand up on his neck again, squeezing tighter than before "Max, Max...please. Max—"

At that he finally comes down, he's a simple man weak for teary eyes and breathy voice, blocking the sunlight behind him once again, and begins kissing and licking his abs, tasting and nibbling the other delicate skin.

Charles starts struggling again, harder, until he's finally free from the Dutchman’s hold and reverses the positions once again "Maintenant c'est mon tour.. Told you I had you wrapped around my pinkie," he smiles innocently and straddles the other lap.

Max never thought that Charles would ever back down from any kind of fight but boy, he didn't imagine that it would continue also with sex. Charles is lucky that Max loves it exactly like this, battling for dominance, or they would have big problems.

Still, he's pissed about it all, of Charles' taunting him, of Lewis' name coming out of the same lips now a bloody red, of him being victorious about a game that Max lost at the start, of that guy that danced and kissed Charles all night, of Pierre and his too familiar hands on the nicks and creaks of his body... and especially of Charles in general, his attitude, his way of thinking and react, his wicked plans, his honey coated words and his beautiful face that makes it impossible not to forgive him.

But, he would be even more pissed off if it wasn't for the slightly red imprint of Max's fingers around Charles' throat.

Seeing that makes him smile and forget about it all for now.

Charles noticed, of course he does. Follows the line of sight focused on those perfectly shaped spots and his smile widens "Someone's possessive, who would have thought..." sarcasm dripping off his words.

Max's eyes are on his in an instant, taking him in and feeling caught red handed but he doesn't look embarrassed nor should he be. Charles dives in and kisses his smug expression off him like never before. It's a wet and hot kiss, full of tongue, lips and moans. He rolls his waist and hips, enjoying the feeling of their crotches rubbing together making the both of them groan and hiss in pleasure. Max's hands settles on his asscheeks, almost painfully tight, guiding him and tugging him closer.

When they are both out of breath, he rises and crawls down the other body until he's face to face with Max's waistband "Charles..." he warns him, still breathing hard and his hands find his hair to hold on to.

"I've waited long enough, can I?" He locks eyes with the other blue ones. Max sighs and nods, he completely gives up. Charles grins and licks his lips in anticipation rubbing his cheek on his pants. Max feels he's going to have a heart attack, his breathing pattern at the moment must not be considered normal.

He tugs down his pants and his mouth instantly waters at the bulge in Max's boxers. Charles begins mouthing and licking at the wet spot, happy that the one struggling to stay still for once is Max, who's gripping his hair to restrain himself "Charles," he says again, more decisive, like a warning. He feels him twitch on his tongue.

It's a shame that Charles can't wait because he would have enjoyed to play and tease more but instead he pushes down Max's underwear and frees his erection. His red and painfully hard erection.

Of course Max is fucking perfect and has the prettiest penis he has ever seen, it's not even surprising at this point. Charles bites his bottom lip and begins sucking and licking up the precum on the red tip, not breaking eye contact. He feels so fucking powerful and he loves it.

Who would have thought he would have Max Verstappen coming undone under him with a couple of licks? Not Charles. Well, that's not true. In his dreams it might have happened.

He soon ends the torture and takes what he can in his mouth, he hears Max sharp intake of breath and gulps. Charles is getting high just from his taste and his sounds, loving the heavy weight inside his mouth.

Then, he begins putting his skills at work, opening up his throat to the limit and slurping all of what Max is giving him. Max hands are a steady presence on his head but not forceful. They're just there and so heavy.

"You're so fucking pretty," whispers Max not once looking away, like he's in some kind of trance. He pets his hair, putting a stray lock back around his hear and rubs his cheek with his thumb where his tip pushes up against, Charles moans at the attention and picks up a fast and steady pace until with one hard suck Max comes down his throat.

Charles gulps all of it down, picks whatever got on his lips with his fingers and licks them clean looking at Max from under his eye lashes.

His voice his rough and scratchy when he says "Merci."

Max's eyes turn dark with lust, pupil blown wide leaving only a ring of icy blue. Charles smiles coyly at him.

"You'll be the death of me," groans Max who puts a hand on his neck to push him back down on the floor in an angry kiss, tasting himself on his tongue. It's all so wet and dirty. But so fucking good too.

Then he is on his back once again, Max is looking very determined on top of him. He takes off Charles' shirt and begins leaving hot and sloppy kisses and bites on every piece of skin his mouth meets. Eager and less careful. One hand lowers his pants and boxers, it moves quickly and in a second it's wrapped around his painfully hard dick. Charles is sure he's not gonna last long, like at all.

He can only moan and whimper when Max's tongue is tormenting one of his nipples and his hand is moving up and down in an agonizing pace "Max, s'il vous plaît," he breaths, after that he can't even talk anymore because his mouth is being played with Max's fingers.

"Come for me, Charles."

It doesn't take much after that, only the right flick of Max's wrist and Charles comes like never before. His sight is completely blank for a second.

He's breathing hard and he feels so hot all of a sudden "Oh God, Max," he says between one breath and the other, the weight of pleasure on his belly finally released "Come here." Max starts leaving little butterfly kisses all over his face and neck while he's slowly coming back from the orgasm.

"I'm so tired," he sighs when Max kisses his closed eyelids.

Max hums before standing and picking him up like he's weightless "Let's sleep then."

The sun is almost over the horizon now, casting every piece of furniture in a warm orange.

Charles locks his arms around his neck, Max begins opening one door after the other before he finally finds Charles' room and puts him down after pulling away the sheets.

"Hey, it's not fair. Take off you shirt!" Complains Charles when he realizes Max is still completely dressed. Max rolls his eyes but obeys before sliding in next to him.

"Look at my boyfriend, so handsome." Charles clicks his tongue and licks his lips when he sees the other abs and wide chest. He decides that's a good place to rest and falls asleep, with Max dropping kisses on the top of his head every now and then.

Not before he shows him his pinkie one last time while giggling. Max can't help but groan in frustration.

Charles is right, he has Max tightly wrapped. No point in denying it.

__

Max wins in Spain, Carlos drove his heart out and arrived second with Charles hot on his tail. In Canada the Mercedes' in front of Charles and Max fight hard from the start causing a puncture in both of their cars and taking out with them both the Ferraris and the Red Bulls.

They all end up on the gravel and for many reasons they have all to retire from the race. They storm off angry to have wasted an opportunity, Lewis is the only one that managed to continue the race and actually win it now that the main competition was completely wiped out.

"That was a big crash, everyone okay?" the German accent is now familiar.

"Yeah, I think Russell's car bumped really hard on mine so my neck is killing me. The car is okay though, nothing major. Everyone else is just really fucking angry, me included."

"I get it, it's frustrating. Go to Max I'm sure he'll know how to cheer you up," malice coating every word.

Charles scoffs "Hell no, if I see Max we are gonna scream at each other," he already saw Max stomping his way to his garage ready to kill someone, he's not suicidal yet. He tried to reach for him, managed to have the strength to put his delusion and frustration away to worry about his boyfriend, but that resulted in a beautiful glare which only made Charles more upset then he already was. If Max yells at him because he might have scratched the paint on his car at some point, then Charles is gonna yell right back at him. Even if it's for a stupid reason. He doesn't care. Zèro.

"Awesome couple as expected. Well, if you want to come over sometime this week, our home is always open. Take care, little one."

"Thank you Seb, I'll keep you updated."

The interviews are pretty tense, the top three teams are not in a good mood so every answer is short and not very nice in general. It's the first time that so many of them didn't even do one lap. It's very disappointing.

There are no jokes between the crew and drivers, no cheering just bitter smiles. Of course this doesn't include the ones that actually benefited from this. But even then, those points don't feel very deserved.

When he is ready to go back home, Charles wanders around outside Max's hospitality. He's still debating wether to go in or not. He just wants to see with his own eyes how he's taking it, they haven't talked all day after all.

"Leclerc? Are you lost?" It's Christian Horner who approaches him confused "Ready to join the dark side?" The team principal jokes covering his phone.

Charles smiles "I'm not actually. I just..." now he's embarrassed, great. Why would he ever go near the RedBulls?

"What is it?"

"I was wondering how Max is doing, he didn't look good in the media pen," he admits. He should have just texted him or something.

"He's doing better, I think. I just saw him go into his driver room," then Christian pauses, really looks at him and says "Don't make things worse though, okay? I've had enough of your fights honestly, he goes back being a fucking teenager when he's with you." He warns him in a playful tone whilst still sounding serious before lightly patting his back and walking away, resuming his call, but not before yelling "Remember it just needs your signature!"

Charles sends him a smile shaking his head. Is it cheating on his team if he feels flattered?

It's the first time inside this garage. Well, first time he can look at it properly, without a tongue or a dick shoved down his throat. They're all so similar in the paddock but unique at the same time. While the Ferrari one looks more classy this one looks much more technical in a way. Like it's out of a sci-fi movie.

Luckily no one seem to see him or pay him too much attention, it is pretty late so it's not a surprise. He easily finds Max's room. Like he said, all garages are all kind of organized in the same way.

He knocks "It's me." he says and then regrets it right after. He could be anyone, what the fuck. Why is he here again?

He's just about to walk away when the door opens and Max invites him inside.

"Are you okay?" He asks searching his face.

"I'm okay, just disappointed that it finished like this because of some incompetents." Max turns his back to him. That makes Charles pissed off more. Is Max actually upset with him?

"Lewis recovered pretty good I'd say, I talked with him after you so gently pushed me away. He was very sorry."

He can hear Max deep intake of air "Still, you are here and not with him."

"Well, I've always liked seeing you pissed off so I am very pleased right now. What are you going to say now? That it was also my fault you crashed?"

Max laughs bitterly turning towards him "What? Like it isn't true? You still can't keep you car straight."

"Neither can you apparently. It's not surprising though."

"You could have avoided that crash, easily."

"Well, Lewis told me it was inevitable and I trust the eight time champion more, to be honest"

Max checks him out, eyes glacial “Did he suck your dick too afterwards or something?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? At least he would not blame his own boyfriend for a crash and push him away after he was just trying to talk to him."

Max steps closer "I guess Hamilton doesn't know his own boyfriend because he was not just trying to talk to him."

"And you do?"

Max takes hold of his hair tilting his head to the side, they both intensify their glare "Look at you now, you were trying to do exactly this. I know you, Leclerc. You always do this, rile me up just to make me fuck you how you like it.”

"You so sure?" Charles own hand goes to grip Max's blond hair, tilting his head up just like that time in the club, the other hand settles on his waist "I think you are full of shit."

Max let's go of the painful grip on his hair but Charles doesn't have the time to feel relieved because that same hand is immediately wrapped around his neck pulling him down "This is not working out,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval “On your knees, Leclerc."

Charles hisses at the pressure, his neck was killing him from the crash and Max was taking advantage off of it. Charles glares even harder tightening his own grip on the other hair "Never," he says through gritted teeth.

Max doesn't flinch one bit, Charles can only see the muscle on his jaw pulsing. So, Max slots his knee between Charles' legs, right on his crotch. Charles gulps down a whimper.

"On you knees," he repeats more forcefully and using more strength down his neck.

Charles has to bite down a cry at that, it fucking hurts. His hand does let go of Max's hair to take hold of his wrist. And just like that he goes down.

Max's smirk grows proudly, loving the sight of Charles' wild green eyes trained on him from down there. Where he belongs and looks best.

"What a good boy." He whispers adoringly. Then, he finally lets go of the other abused neck, still with Charles' hand wrapped around his wrist trying to stop him. He goes up towards those pink lips. "Open up," he commands.

Charles doesn't.

Max then raises slightly his foot and presses it gently against Charles clothed erection. Charles can't help but moan at the sensation and Max takes the opportunity to slip his thumb inside his mouth and pressing down his tongue.

"Now, you are going to take my cock out and do what you do best, yes?"

At Charles unmoving stare Max rolls his eyes and presses down his foot, should have never expected this to be easy. Charles down right meowls in pleasure, saliva begins dropping down his lips.

For his boyfriend’s sanity Charles finally lets go of Max's hand and joins the other at undoing his jeans and free his hard dick.

Max then takes his thumb out of his mouth, a string of spit still connecting them, and uses it to stroke himself a couple of times. He can see Charles gulping down at the sight, pupils blown. Once ready Max pushes the tip on those plump lips, wetting them with precum.

"Don't bite," he warns but Charles doesn't seem to even want to open his mouth, jaw completely locked. He just continues to throw daggers at him despite how much Max knows he's dying to take him in.

Max sighs "You're being really fucking annoying today." In an instant Max's hand, which was left on top of his hair, is painfully gripping the side of his cheeks, forcing Charles to open his mouth, like one would do a dog, so that Max can shove his cock inside and finally be wrapped up in his warmth.

"There," he exhales feeling the sudden pleasure running through him, feels it pulling tight in his belly.

Max still has to move for a couple of seconds, guiding Charles head before Charles gives up and begins sucking on his own. And from there it's like fireworks are going inside Max. Charles was definitely born for sucking dicks, his mouthyness is not reserved only for shit talking.

He sucks hard, taking it all in, hitting the back of his throat many times. Max could come just from the sight of it all, the red slicked lips stretched around his girth, the rosy cheeks, the watery eyes still focused on glaring up at him, the wet eye lashes, the drop of sweat rolling down his temple... Yes, Max could come easily just from all that.

"Fucking hell, you're so perfect for me."

Charles whimpers and struggles under Max's moving foot, the vibrations running down Max's length. Charles knows it doesn't take much after that, he knows his own man just like Max knows him.

And so, he pulls away with a wet 'pop!', saliva and pre-cum dropping down his mouth and chin. Grinning up at Max's murderous expression.

Did he really think he would just submit like that?

"What are you doing?" Growls Max watching Charles wipe his mouth on his sleeve.

Charles looks up innocently "I have to go back to my team, of course. They're waiting for me."

Max takes hold of Charles nape before he can stand up, this time he does hiss in pain.

"No, you're not," Max holds his cheeks once again, keeping him in place "Finish your job."

"Then beg me," declares Charles, simply.

"What?" Asks confused Max.

Charles tongue goes to meet the tip of Max's cock, right on the slit, giving it tiny tentative licks, all with a smirk on his lips "Beg. Me," he repeats.

Max is dripping in sweat, blonde hair turned dark from it, the teasing is driving him insane and Charles doesn't seem to be bulging, no matter how much he pushes down.

Max's heart is drumming loudly inside his chest and once Charles stops licking Max does let out a tiny, almost inaudible, whimper at the loss. Charles smiles knowing he won.

"Please." he says dropping down his head in defeat.

"What a good boy!" Charles doesn't waste time to finish what he started and it doesn't take much at all.

Charles gulps it all down to the last drop like a pro.

Max doesn't look all that relieved, if anything he looks angrier than before.

"What? Not in a hurry anymore?" He asks almost pouting as he tucks himself back in his pants.

Charles rises up "I lied."

Max clicks his tongue annoyed passing a hand through his hair in frustration.

Charles looks at him. Max looks back.

"If you think I'm going to do something for you you're wrong."

Charles tilts his head like a puppy widening his eyes, coming closer to him "No, Charles. You deserve it."

Charles drops a kiss on his jaw, Max refuses to look down at him "But my neck really hurts..." his voice is scratchy.

That doesn't help Max's case.

Charles kisses the side of his mouth sweetly "Max, chéri..." he continues to drop kisses on his face and neck "You were mean to me all day," he whines trying to get Max to look at him.

Max does but he looks indignant "I was mean to you? You wanted this, you are masochist."

Charles rolls his eyes "I want you." He rubs his painful erection against Max's body "I need you, Max."

Max groans when he picks him up to throw him on the bed, frustrated with himself, and Charles grins victorious showing his pinkie once Max puts to use his own mouth.

Max makes quick work of him and they soon find themselves catching their breath on top of the tiny mattress.

"Are you hurt?" Asks Max caressing Charles neck stretched out on his chest.

"It's your fault."

"No, before that."

"Russel's car hit me pretty hard and I kind of bumped my head harder than the usual. I'm okay, though. Just sore," he explains before diving in in the other chest again and feel his warmth. He really missed him. Kinda.

"Are you hurt somewhere else?" Max begins pressing his fingers everywhere making Charles laugh and wiggle on top of him to try and escape.

"Stop, stop!" Laughs Charles taking his hands in his.

"Fucking Russel," Max arms circle around his frame holding him tight but gently at the same time, like he's scared to hurt him "Did you see a doctor?"

"I did, I'm fine. I guess I have to sleep it off," he backs off a little to kiss Max's worried face "And I certainly cannot go to one now, they would think a lion mauled me". That's because Max had a personal vendetta agains him and decided to throw all his frustration by sucking and biting all around his poor abused neck today. The final goal was to force Charles in staying at home, apparently. He can't risk someone taking photos of him in this state...

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" Asks Max searching in his green eyes.

"I didn't want to worry you and like I said, we were all pretty angry. I didn't even notice until I calmed down. And also, I tried to approach you but..."

Max takes his face in his hands, the guilt eating him alive "I'm so sorry about that. I want you to know though, that I don't care if I'm fucking furious, shat. If you're hurt anywhere I want to know. Also, not just physically, if you're hurt in general I want to know who to fuck up. Clear?"

"I'll tell you next time, sure. I won't tell you names though, I don't want you to end up in jail, chèri." Charles flicks Max's chin "And I can handle myself."

Max kisses his lips "I don't care, I'd rather spend the rest of my days in jail than without you."

The fact that Max says the sweetest things with a straight face and right after he treated Charles like the most annoying thing on the planet will always be Charles' favorite quirk about him. He doesn't even seem to notice what he says and that's how Charles can tell he's genuine. His heart squeezes every time.

"Lewis said the same thing!"

Max throws him off the bed "Ow! You motherfucker!"

He rises up from the bed "That's what you get when you say shit like that, love," and begins picking up his things filling his backpack.

"Are you going back home?" Asks Charles from the floor.

"No, next race is RedBull ring, babe. I have to record a bunch of things for it, it'll be a miracle if I leave the perimeter of the factory. Are you?" He asks opening the door to let him out first, waiting for Charles to finally get up.

"No, if there are no problems with the car I think I'm gonna swing by Seb's place in Switzerland before the race. Maybe I'll take Spidey with me."

"You two are closer than I expected."

"Yeah? I have a bed and everything in his place, I bet that's even more unexpected."

"Really? Wow. You're like his son."

That makes him laugh, it's always funny when someone's says that "I guess so. I have to go that way. Andrea and Carlos are really waiting for me," they're just behind all the hospitalities.

Max takes his hand to tug him closer to him and gives him a deep loving kiss "Have a nice flight, shatje. Don't strain your pretty neck, okay?" the possessive hand on Charles ass-cheek is a bonus. He pushes him away when he feel Max squeezing even more with a "Tsk."

Max backs away snickering to himself.

Charles then nods smiling and kisses him one last time after Max is done giggling like a girl "See you on track, lion," he waves at him and then walks away.

Chapter Text

"Look at my boy, all grown up! The little boy too!"

"What the fuck are you saying Seb," it's the first thing he says when the door opens "Hello Kimi!"

"Hi kid."

"I don't know, I felt like I should have said it. It made sense," he rambles then closes the door "Anyway, it's been so long since I last saw you. How are you? Neck still hurts?"

Charles puts his things on the floor for now petting the large dog that comes to greet him, making sure that the two animals get along "A little bit but you know, it's nothing unusual. Happens all the time on track," he sighs standing back up, Spidey loves dogs for some reason and Seb already told him that his dog would love his company. That is the reason why he brought Spidey along really. Seb and Kimi tolerate cats, don't necessarily like them but they are willing to endure it for the sake of the happiness of their dog. It also helps that Spidey is more like a dog than a cat. "How are you? How's retiring on the mountains treating you?"

"Best decision ever. I miss Formula 1 but I still race in other cars so it's okay."

"Have you convinced him to race in NASCAR?" He asks Kimi sitting on the couch besides him.

"I'm working on it."

"You should do it Seb, I'll come to your races when I can, please."

"No no, don't say that. I can't handle both you and Mick. Let's talk about you, how are things with your boy going?"

Charles rolls his eyes but lets it go. He's sure Seb has enough on his plate right now.

The house is beautiful by the way, made traditionally with dark wood and not extremely huge. It blends well with the nature outside.

"At the moment, we are good. Next week I don't know. We don't spend that much time together so that sucks." He pouts scratching the belly of the dog that came to lay beside him. He’s so fluffy and big, Charles is debating letting him sleep on his bed to hug him all night.

"Yeah, I can see that. Kimi and I saw each other all the fucking time, it was too much sometimes. But I guess driving for two very different teams could be worse"

"Yeah, we just see each other on track and even there we are too busy or there are too many cameras around. Or worse, something happens and then we are both pissed, so..."

Seb whistles "That doesn't sounds good at all. Have you talked about the whole publicity stuff? We are in 2023, it wouldn't be too bad to come out, maybe when you're more stable."

Charels shakes his head “We haven't, no. But I'm sure we both like our privacy so I don't mind. I mean, we are rivals and they ask us questions about the other all the time, could you imagine what would happen if we said we are together? What a nightmare." He sighs.

Charles will admit that he thought about doing it at some point. Maybe once they settle down more and are not of breaking up every other week. He genuinely did though about coming out, he would be proud of showing Max around, to say he managed to tame the down the Dutch lion. It would be so fun. In theory, in theory it sounds fun. Realistically it would me a nightmare.

Formula 1 is still mainly a sport full of dumb men who would not accept such things on track. The teams, depending on their beliefs, would probably not accept it - surely not Ferrari - and the sponsors would be a problem. Then there’s the conflict of interest’s problem, the speculations, the interviews, the fans… It’s simply not worth it right now.

Besides, Max would hate having even more attention.

"Yeah, you're right. I mean, we did the same so I guess just be careful."

"Don't worry, we aren't like that."

Seb snorts, Kimi too which is kind of surprising "Right, sure."

"What?" Charles is very confused.

"You're both young and full of hormones. Can't fool me Charles."

Fifty shades of red is once again on Charles face "You really can't talk Seb. How could I forget the time you both traumatized me!"

"We were just messing around, don't exaggerate now."

"You wer—"

"Ahh! I don't want to hear it coming from you mouth, kid."

"Yep, I agree," Kimi stands up to refill his glass "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thanks," he doesn't want to die of alcohol poisoning. Kimi never offers water as a 'drink'. Or soda.

That's when his phone rings so he picks it up "What is it?"

He watches Seb make a face, mouthing "romanticism is dead" to Kimi. Who, well, is not one to judge so doesn't spare his boyfriend one glance. Seb groans in frustration. Charles holds back a laugh.

"Hey, just wanted to know you didn't get lost in the mountains. Are you with Seb and Kimi?"

"Yep, I can drive and listen to the directions at the same time, thank you for having so much faith in me."

"I saw you getting sidetracked by a squirrel, I'm sorry for worrying." Charles huffs in reply, that was one time. "I'll let you go back to whatever you were doing. How did Spidey handle the long ride?"

"He's been perfect, he slept and looked out the window, now he's terrorizing the dog. Have you finished filming?"

"No and it's so awkward with Yuki and Nyck, Charles. At least there are cool cars."

"They will be fine, enjoy and have fun then. Bye Max."

"Bye, shatje". And he hangs up. Seb in the mean time gravitated towards his side to listen in. Charles had to physically hold him away.

"Was that Dutch? Does he speak to you in Dutch? Oh my god that's so cute I'm gonna throw up. The only time Kimi speaks to me in Fin is to insult me better."

They hear Kimi cackling in the kitchen.

"Yeah, he calls me ugly, it's not cute at all."

Now it's Seb turn to laugh "Really? What does he call you? lelijk? hässlich? I think we both can understand Dutch up to a certain point."

"He mostly calls me 'shatje' or something like 'liefje'?? I don't know if the pronunciation is right," he pouts, they're not cute nicknames, Max always says them with a smirk like he's laughing at him.

Kimi and Seb burst out laughing really hard. Seb has tears building up in his eyes "What is it this time?" He whines and completely borrows himself on the sofa. They're just gonna make fun of him all day, right? He misses Mick. "Is it that bad?"

"He told you those mean 'ugly'? Oh, mein Gott!" He continues laughing for a couple of minutes more before he calms down.

"Well?"

"Charles, poor, little, innocent, baby Charles. That boy is completely whipped for you!"

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, maybe I shouldn't tell you. Keep the mystery alive," he throws his head back "Young love," sometimes Charles has to keep in mind that Seb is not that old, even if he acts like it.

"I would just google it now that you made me curious. Come on, tell me."

"Let's just say that you wouldn't call someone that if you're not in a serious relationship. I think the literal translation for shat/shatje is something like 'treasure'?"

"Yeah, like 'sweetie,'" adds Kimi " '-je' just means 'little', it's like a diminutive." Then he comes back and hands Charles a cup of hot chocolate. Wow, Kimi made progress or he just really likes Charles.

"So, he's calling you baby in English but so much more too. So cute. 'Liefje' same thing, it's like 'dear', 'honey' or 'my love'."

"Oh, that is cute. Why didn't he tell me?" He's red again.

"He probably was just embarrassed." Seb sips from his glass "Like I said, that boy is whipped for you."

"That too, what does it mean?"

"He really, really, likes you Charles." He's staring to steam "Honestly, it makes me feel better, you know? Less worried about you two."

So yeah, the next time Max calls him 'shatje' he couldn't look at him in the eyes for a good half an hour. Max is still clueless. It's also because seeing the other in the RedBull ring is almost impossible so he doesn't have time to notice. The RedBulls are playing at home and their drivers are on the spotlight. It's hard seeing him so far away and not touch him or talk to him, but it's okay, Max still smiles whenever he crosses his gaze or they 'accidentally' bump into each other and briefly make out behind a door. It makes him feel all warm inside, Seb forgot to mention that he's pretty whipped too.

He's also starting to think that Lando knows something about them. Whenever he has the both of them close he looks so entertained, like a child in his favorite toy store or they're his favorite twitch stream. He's always there, trying to make them walk into the other, or stop to chat about literally nothing.

One time, right before the qualifying, Charles was in a hurry, pee break was crucial. He had his suit still tied on his waist while everyone was pretty much all ready to go. He was running to get to his garage and pick up his gloves. Andrea was waiting for him on the pit lane to spray him like usual. He actually enjoys doing that on track because it's near the Red Bulls and Max always looks very jealous, but that's besides the point.

So, he's running when he hears "Charles!" And it's Lando who physically stops him "What? What is it?" Charles is out of breath.

"Me and Max were just talking about the weather! Max hopes it rains what about you? We're still debating which one is better." he bumps shoulders with a confused Max, it looks like they weren't talking about the weather at all. He actually bumps into Max pretty hard because he trips and ends up almost falling on top of Charles. They manage to stay upright.

"What the fuck Lando?" Asks Charles before he's pulled away by his team to get ready. He vaguely hears Max say something along the lines too plus he gives a slap on the back of Lando's neck. The young driver doesn't try something this stupid ever again.

So yeah, that's strange.

He took the pole, Max takes the win. It was intense but he manages to steal the win from Charles.

"Yeah, it's always really hard to fight with him but so fun too. I'm really glad this year we can show our skills on track on a pretty much equal car."

"Do you agree?"

"Of course, I've been saying that for years. At this point I think we are just trying to outsmart and surprise the other in battle and every time is much more difficult."

"What happened today then? It looked like the last few races you got the advantage."

"He got lucky, obviously," he winks at Max who scoffs at him in a playful way.

Max takes his revenge in the privacy of Charles driver room. Let's just say Charles' jaw afterward was very sore.

__

Coming to Silverstone for Charles is so dreadful. This track for him last year was such an important turning point. Everyone in the paddock can kind of sense that he's not feeling good about this race, but mentally he's confident he can win this time. He’s just a bit stressed.

Max is understanding so he doesn't bother him too much, Charles likes his alone time when he's feeling stressed and anxious. Max's tries though at least, to be there for him even if from afar. Because Charles doesn't like having someone coddling and comforting him when he doesn't feel like it.

Maybe hearing Mattia say "it's going to be all right" or "you were great" when all things were going south kind of triggered this reaction. Ferrari should really pay him more for all the trauma honestly, the tifosi are right, Ferrari should be held accountable. He chuckles to himself at the thought while sitting down on one side of the track, waiting for everything to be ready to begin.

He waves at Lewis and Carlos who passes him in a hurry to get somewhere. He sips his water and enjoys the rare English sun light for once, with the smell of motor oil and burning rubber all around him. Just like back in the days in France.

"Hey Charlie, how you doing?"

He raises his head and shades his eyes from the sun with his hand "I'm doing good and you? What are you doing out here?" He's pleasingly surprised to see the Australian man.

"Checo feels sick but still wants to race, they called me just in case."

"It's great to see you around, you should come more often." he's genuinely happy.

"I know! You're all so boring, every time I come here everything lights up again. Can I sit with you? You chose a nice spot."

Charles smiles and motion him to sit beside him "Of course! Go ahead."

"Thanks."

They sit in silence, Daniel with his music in his ears and Charles just watching everything happening around him passively.

Lando joins them without asking. Charles is now in an ex McLaren sandwich. Then Pierre who's on his phone, so he's not even looking at them. Alex is next.

Charles sees Perez laughing when he walks past, pointing at them when he almost collides with Lewis. That catches the attention of the cameras running around, noticing a good amount of the drivers are all together. They just film in silence and luckily don't disturb them. Carlos too choses to sit with them during his break with George.

The one to walk past them a couple minutes later is Max while he's giving an interview, he almost trips too which is very funny.

"What's that?" They hear the reporter ask. Max turns his head not understanding then looks even more confused when he sees them all lined up.

"I honestly have no idea."

Daniel's the one that cups his hand around his mouth to be louder "Charles' support group, you better watch out Verstappen!"

They all laugh, Daniel looks very proud.

Max shrugs and smiles saying "There you have it, I guess."

"Do you feel threatened?"

"I actually do, look at them" the camera is on them, they all look like idiots "Leclerc is untouchable."

And he was right because he wins the race and it feels so fucking good. They all cheer for him, it was an awesome race with few but good battles and no incidents.

"Charles Leclerc! Another win under your belt! How do you feel?"

"Today was great! Car was fast and easy to drive compared to the last races, so yeah, it feels pretty good!"

"You did lead the race from the first laps!"

"Exactly, I didn't have any close contacts with other cars too which is a lot less stressful. Like someone's said, today I felt pretty untouchable," he smirks, the host laughs and he switches with Max who arrived second. They briefly hug like usual and he passes the mic.

"So, not the finish you expected after the last victory in Spa I bet, but it's still a good one! What are your thoughts about the race? What was different?"

"The Ferrari were flying today so it's totally deserved. Me and Checo had slow pits stop too so I'm actually proud of what I managed to do, overtaking Sainz was a miracle."

"We saw you struggling on the straights, that's very unusual for the Red Bulls. Why do you think that?"

"I'm not sure yet, the throttle felt weird. I guess we have to look back at the data to know for sure what went wrong."

"Thank you."

When his phone is back online once his plane touches down later that night, he finds a text from Max asking him if he wants to come over and spend the night at his place. Charles is so tired he doesn't even think twice before replaying with a 'okay', he had to pick up his cat anyway.

Lando invited the entire grid to his party and Dj set, unfortunately for him many drivers were dead on their feet and only wanted to go home. With the hot temperatures rising racing is starting to be much more demanding for their body.

"Please give me the bed."

"You do know how to make one feel wanted." Max let's his zombie boyfriend inside. Charles picks up Spidey and kisses him long and hard until he has to pull away to breath again. He really missed him, okay? He pets Jimmy and Sassy too, he's not a monster. He loves those two beasts to death.

"Please, give me the bed with you on top of it."

Max takes his suitcase and backpack off of him "Much better," he places one quick kiss on his temple, Charles closes his eyes and leans on his warm side.

"Don't fall asleep! Come on, follow me," Max leads him into his room. Charles undresses himself very slowly once there, yawning with every piece of clothing he takes off while Max puts away the last of his clothes. He must have got home not long before Charles came then.

"Put these on and get under the sheets. You really have to learn how to sleep on planes, Charles," he sighs like he is the one suffering. It’s not like Charles dies it on purpose. Max then throws a shirt at him and some shorts too, they're both a little loose and worn but mad comfy. Max's entire wardrobe is built around the concept of 'comfort' and nothing else. As anyone could have expected from him.

Max follows not long after, hugging close him and petting his hair. Charles hugs him back and rubs his cheek on his warm chest, tucking himself in as close as possible.

"Seriously, why are you such a good hugger?" Asks Charles, or more like mumbles, accent thick with sleep.

"You're not so bad either."

"You can't hug anyone else starting from now."

"Why?"

"Someone might fall in love and then what can I do?"

"I don't know, exist?" He chuckles "I think that's more than enough."

"No, I'd have to fight them."

Charles groans when Max's chest start moving too hard because he's laughing "Go to sleep, liefje."

"I'm serious, I'm not sharing or giving you up."

"I feel the same, sleep now."

"'Night, mon cour"

"Weltrusten, mijn schatje."

"Ugh, you speaking Dutch is so hot..." Charles complains sleepily. Max begins laughing all over again. Charles complains.

__

The next morning Charles is the one to wake up first surprisingly. They both got rid of the sheets and gravitated towards the opposite end of the bed searching for something cool to lay on. Max at least was able too keep one lazy arm around his waist. How sweet of him.

He picks up his phone from the pocket of his jeans that he left at the end of the bed, where two of the cats are laying and sleeping. He answers the various texts from his friends and sees the photos from Lando's party, it looks like they had fun. Now he regrets not going. And he's hungry.

He looks at the time, sees that it's past noon and turns towards Max. He's still dead. He picks up Spidey napping on Max's stomach to place him with the others and lays back down next to him, peppering his face with kisses. He looks so good and he's doing absolutely nothing. He pushes back his blonde hair, he really hopes Max doesn't cut them anymore than this, they make him look so sexy and dangerous whenever he takes off his helmet.

"Max," he whispers while still leaving pecks on his face "Max."

He looks actually dead "I'm gonna throw all your trophies out of the balcony," nothing. Still snoring full throttle, unconscious to the world.

He kisses his lips, nada. "I'll dump your PlayStation and Xbox in the pool," at least he twitches, that's good. He's still sleeping though "Pc and sim too."

He kisses his neck and collarbones. Charles frowns, at this point he's convinced that he would sleep through a blowjob.

"If you don't wake up, I'll call Lewis and Pierre and ask them to do a threesome."

"What...? You'll what?" He barely lifts up his head to watch him trailing kisses down his navel. Charles laughs in response.

"Ah, now you wake up?" Charles shakes his head not believing him "You are terrible."

"That was one of the best sleep of my life, you motherfucker. What time is it?"

"Time to eat."

"My dick?" That makes Charles snort. Max is still looking down and Charles is on top of him "I'm not complaining."

"I bet." He's still chuckling "We have to go to the store and buy something or we are gonna starve"

Max head falls back down "Can't we order something?" He rubs his eyes.

Charles crawls back up finally facing him, the light from the sun makes Max’s eyes so much lighter. He looks so fucking beautiful, he's like an ethereal vision.

"We are professional athletes on a strict diet," he reminds him.

"You are a professional pain in the ass."

Max sighs, lifting his hands up and settling them on Charles hipbones. In the process his shirt falls down exposing his stomach and ass that is up in the air

He sees Max’s smirk growing with mischief by the second "What is it?" Charles asks looking him in the eyes with curiosity and a bit afraid too.

"Nothing, you look so pretty in the morning."

Charles is instantly offended "I always look good!" He slaps the other on the chest.

Max just chuckles and brushes his hands up and down along the deep line of his spine "I know," and he leans up to capture his lips in a soaring kiss.

"I'm so lucky to have the most handsome driver in the world in my bed," he adds breaking the kiss. His hands go lower, past his hip bones and grasp his ass in a very possessive way pulling him closer. It stings a little but it feels so fucking good too. Then he kisses him again with more hunger and passion, lot more tongue too. When they part they both have heavy lidded eyes and red lips, morning breath be dammed "But I gotta say that today you look exceptionally good."

Charles tilts his head like a puppy not understanding why Max looks so smug, still slightly dazed by the kiss. He's getting concerned now. He sits down on the other lap making Max groan and hiss at the sudden contact. Looks like Max enjoyed the early morning attentions. Charles straightens up before looking down at himself, maybe he forgot to put boxers on or something.

Or something.

He's wearing a blue shirt. A RedBull shirt. He's wearing an old and very used washed out blue RedBull shirt. He looks back up to glare at Max who's still under him and seems very amused.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you." he picks up his pillow from his side of the bed and smashes it on Max's laughing face trying to suffocate the other. He doesn't put too much strength in it because there's still a championship to win and he would be the first suspect "If you do that again I'm going to dump your ass and run you over with my car!"

"I can't breath!"

"Good!"

Ten seconds after that he takes off the pillow. Max's face is really red but he is still smiling while Charles is still glaring at him "But you look so good! I think it's your best outfit, honestly!"

"Your sense of fashion is worse than mine!” Shouts back Charles.

"I'm the one whose opinion matters the most and I think you look fucking fantastic, shatje. Look at you!" He groans with almost black eyes from how big his pupils are, grippig his waist and tights, tugging him close but Charles doesn't let him "I feel betrayed, I trusted you in a moment of weakness and sleepiness," he says while blushing, he hates his body reactions sometimes.

"I know, but seriously. I'd fuck you right this second if you didn't look so pissed. I shouldn't have told you." Max is out right whining.

"Well, you're not gonna fuck me anytime soon now so good job," he crosses his arms.

Max rolls his eyes again "You can't hate a shirt that much, especially when you look so hot in it. You're angry, wearing my shirt and on top of me, I must still be dreaming." His hands travel up from his tights, up his ass and lower back. They leave a hot trail after them.

He reaches the back of Charles’ neck, pulling him down towards his face but Charles manages to stop before they can kiss. Max doubles his strength but he should know to never doubt an F1 driver's neck "Come on, love" pleads Max. Damn him to look this hot, thinks Charles.

Max still loses the battle.

Charles gets bitterly off his lap and his bed "It's a matter of principle," he mutters. Going into the living room to find his clothes still in the suitcase.

"I'm going to shower, do you wanna come?" Max yells at him from the bedroom.

"No!" he screams back in answer. Yes, he's that petty that he denies himself of a good time. Talk about commitment.

__

In Hungary it all goes wrong for Charles. He took the pole on Saturday, he felt so good about the race and then the blue flags were waving to let the lapped cars go. Of course Hulkenberg lost control of his car making Charles spin. And as that wasn’t enough he then proceeded to take out Ocon too who flew over the Ferrari and crashed on his front wing. Thankfully Charles had the halo. He was leading the race with a massive advantage and it was all gone like that.

"Who was that? Ferrari?"

"Leclerc crashed. Currently you're P1. Safety car deployed."

"Is he okay?"

"He's back on track, right behind you. Free pit stop."

It's a miracle Charles' still in one piece. The car just has scratches and had to box to change the nose. He's fucking pissed off but he breaths it out, it's not all lost yet, the safety car is immediately deployed and he manages to come back right behind Max's RedBull. Max who doesn't let the opportunity go.

They fight it out, aggressive and to the limit like only they can do, lap after lap until Max forces him off track. Not only does Charles ends up destroying the floor of his car, wheel completely gone, but the engine fails on him and begins fuming while he's doing backflips in the air. The stewards immediately start taking him out once he lands, struggling because he's also stuck inside the car for some reason. He feels too hot and why isn't he out yet?

"Are you okay, Charles? Can you hear me?" They keep repeating on the radio.

“I’m okay.”

He honestly can't believe it. Watching his beauty of a car being lifted up by the gru like that, like it is just a piece of scrap metal and not his entire soul. It hurts, everything does. His heart breaks right then and there with it.

To top it all off, the race finishes while he's still watching his car. He hears the fireworks and Max's announcement proclaiming him the winner, Sainz is second and Lewis is third.

It all feels like a nightmare.

He turns away and runs back to the pits ignoring the marshals that ask him if he's hurt. The ambulance is there. He can't feel anything so he can't even answer. He feels so fucking empty.

Andrea is there blocking him, Fred too, materialized from somewhere "Charles? Are you okay?" They looks so scared.

"Leave me alone," he shakes them away, makes his way inside avoiding the whole crew concerned for him. Asking too many questions. He takes off his helmet and gloves, uncaring for where they land and throws them away.

"Charles, I'm sorry but you really have to go with the FIA staff and see a doctor. That was a big crash."

He wants to scream until his throat is raw but he just gulps it down and nods, takes a brief walk to cool off a little bit before following Andrea back to where all the drivers are coming in after the race. His legs hurt, his arms, his head...

He ignores everyone's concerned looks until he sees both Ocon and Hulkenberg talking and watching the screen. Analyzing the crash like nothing bad happened. He immediately loses it.

"What were you thinking?" He asks Nico, barely being able to not shout "What are you doing here if you can't drive straight? You can't even move out of the way safely and you call yourself a Formula 1 driver?"

"Hey mate, it's racing, it happens. Don't take it personally."

Charles is officially killing him.

Nico must sense it or something because he actually looks scared and backs off milliseconds before he lunges for him. He's held back from punching him by a pair of strong arms and then Carlos is in the way.

"Guys, please!" He shoves Nico away and turns toward Charles "I get it but calm down, Charles."

"I'm fucking killing him, I don't care," he struggles to get away. He looks behind him seeing Max holding him and pulling him away too. "And you! Get the fuck off of me Verstappen, je jure que I will hurt you."

"Calm the fuck down! Charles, please. Are you okay? Talk to me, please."

Charles ears begins ringing so he doesn't even hear him at that point.

Charles turns to look at Max with so much hatred and fury. He pushes him away making him stumble back "Don't tell me that, you dickhead! Don't you dare lay a single finger on me ever again." Adrenaline set on the highest. Just seeing Max makes his head spin like minutes before "I mean it!"

"Pierre! Can you come here please?" He hears Carlos call "Charles, please, not here," begs the other Ferrari driver setting his hands on his shoulders and trying to keep his focus. Carlos is the last person he wants to see to be honest.

Pierre is there when he pushes Carlos off taking him in his side "Charlie? Peut-on aller crier ailleurs, s'il te plait?"

"Ils ont ruiné ma course, ma voiture est un putain de morceau de métal inutile maintenant!"

"Écoutez votre ami, mon pote! Ce n'était qu'un accident, si vous pensez que vous méritez d'être champion du monde alors apprenez à les éviter et ne pleurez pas après." Ocon adds to the conversation from the other side.

Both Pierre and Charles turn to glare at him, they look murderous "What the fuck, I'll fuck you up if you say that again, you piece of shit!" Now Pierre is mad too. They both march at him with fire in their eyes and blood pumping.

"What the hell did you say to him?" Asks Max joining in the group that is getting too close for comfort. If Pierre got angry then he must have said something really bad about Charles. That obviously doesn't sit right with him either.

Carlos is now the only one in the middle. He looks at Lando asking desperately for help and soon him, Lewis and George join trying to break them up.

Insults are being thrown around in every language while trying to get close enough to hit someone. Carlos and the others luckily prevent that by keeping everyone at a safe distance.

"What the fuck is happening here?! Break it off! Now!" Someone from the staff finally shouts at them "You three! To the cooldown room immediately!" He points at the winners. They all have different expressions: Lewis' is concerned, Carlos is frustrated and Max is fucking mad.

They all throw one last glare before walking away.

"All of you back to your garages! I don't want to see your faces back here! Y'all act like a bunch of children for fuck's sake!"

Charles scoffs shoving everyone off of him and storming off clicking his tongue. Soon they all do the same thing and silence falls once again. He still hears Pierre speaking in French but he ignores it, he can only hope that he doesn't get in trouble.

He runs from all the cameras and reporters looking straight in front of him until he reaches his driver room and locks himself inside. He sits down on the floor and only then realizes he's shaking really badly. He didn't even notice. He takes deep breaths in, trying to calm down the fury burning inside him. He shields his eyes from the too bright lights by leaning on his knees and his ears with his hands. He doesn't want to hear all the cheers and music coming from the outside.

He's so mad with the other drivers, with Max, the cameras, with himself... He wants to go home, cuddle with Spidey and never come back. What are they gonna say about him, now? That he's violent? That he's a villain? He doesn't even regret it and would do it again, will probably do it again if he sees their faces soon, so maybe he is. How could he lose control like that?

"Charles?" He hears Andrea behind the door. "Can I come in?" He tries to but quickly realizes he's locked in "Can you at least tell me you're alright? Please?" Silence "Are you hurt anywhere? Please answer, Charles." he sounds really worried.

"I'm fine," the driver manages to say.

Andrea takes a deep breath "Oh, grazie a dio. Don't worry about anything else, okay? When you're ready to come out I'll take you home," he says reassuringly.

"Grazie Andrea."

"Anytime, Charles, anytime," and walks away.

He spends more time on the floor, he's so tired and sore all over, he can't even get up and get on the bed. He's still in his suit that smells of smoke and sweat. His muscles are starting to hurt from the many impacts of today, his head is throbbing too, so does his wrist, and something stings on his eyebrow but he could care less.

Everything seems to quiet down eventually, he can hear the mechanics putting everything away with the familiar clinks and tinkers of metal. The one that stops by next is Carlos.

"Charles? Everyone's worried about you. It's fine, you can come out," he says softly leaning against the door "No one thinks any less about you so don't even think about that, I know you care a lot about those things," he sighs.

"Sebastian has been calling non stop since the crash, Pierre is raging outside and Max threatened again an interviewer, I still don't get him by the way. So yeah, those are the updates for now. It was the most awkward and tense podium of my career," he says jokingly.

"I guess I'll see you at the factory. Just so you know, no one on the team is mad at you. Bye."

He decides to get up when he can't hear anyone from inside his room. He stands up slowly, still unsure on his feet, everything fucking hurts. He takes off his racing suit and the fireproofs under it. He swears under his breath when he sees black bruises beginning to form on his chest from the seatbelts. When he's dressed in normal clothes and has packed his belongings he unlocks the door. Andrea is the only one sitting in the garage waiting for him.

Once he sees him he envelops the driver in a big hug "Oh Charles, let's go home," Charles gives him a little smile keeping himself from hissing in pain, so he takes a deep breath and lightly limps at his side.

They almost make it without crossing paths with anyone but then they meet Max who looks like he also has been waiting for him "Charles, are you hurt? Oh god, can you walk?" He asks.

Charles doesn't even look at him, Andrea tries to lead him away "Go home, Verstappen. Don't you think you've done enough?" The glare Andrea sends him is one full to the brim with hatred. And Andrea is the type of guy who's good and kind with anyone, well, at least until you mess with his friends. Max looks actually scared.

And those words stings. A lot.

"Charles, please," he tries again but doesn't try to go near him afraid that Andrea will just get mad at him more.

Charles sends him a look that makes him shut up and purse his lips before he looks down at his feet.

In the car Charles texts Vic asking to please bring Spidey to his home and that Arthur will let her in. He honestly can't bear to interact with Max for a little while. Vic understands completely and calls his brother a cunt. Like he said before, she's an angel.

In the morning, back in his apartment he hears the door open "Charles? Charles!" It's Sebastian. He kind of regrets giving him a key. In his defense he did it for emergency only.

He gets up, his muscles are screaming at him "What are you doing here?" He asks once he encounters the intruders.

When Seb sees his face instantly relaxes from his worried expression and hugs him tight. Kimi joins, he looks worried too. Charles groans in pain.

"Are you okay? That was so bad, look at your poor face," he touches his eyebrow which actually stings a lot he realizes. Something must have cut him when he opened the visor of his helmet. "I'm gonna kill all of them, it's the only way," dramatic as always.

"I'm fine, why are you here? You knew it wasn't anything too serious."

"Kid, they didn't say anything for so long you could have died in your room for all we knew."

Charles sighs and sits on the couch "I'm sorry, I was so mad I just had to get away."

"I don't blame you," replies Kimi.

"Yeah but at least answer your phone or send a text next time, you monster." Seb huffs leaning back "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm glad we have the week off."

"I bet, the articles are going crazy about what happened but don't worry, your fan base is clearly very strong."

Charles groans rubbing his eyes he looks at Kimi. He's playing with Spidey. "The thing is I'm still so angry, I was winning that race. Instead I got zero points and my car is destroyed. God, just thinking about it..." he takes a deep breath.

Seb hums beside him looking around "I guess I shouldn't ask about Max." Charles turns to look at him, Seb raises his hands in defense.

"I don't wanna see or talk to him."

"I mean, you were racing hard but he did push you off track. He had fresh tires too, he really overstepped. He received a penalty by the way, 10 seconds. Still won though."

Charles rolls his eyed "Of fucking course." That just shows how both him and Max where so much far ahead to everybody else. That was Charles' win. Those were fucking easy points that he lost!

"Well, sit back and relax, you had a hard weekend. We'll cook something before we go."

"You have a race?"

"Yep, I have to be in Berlin tomorrow. Kimi in France. A pit stop in Monaco doesn't hurt."

"Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it," he says honestly, didn't even realize how much he needed this. He doesn't deserve them, they always take good care of him.

"Don't sweat it kid."

The day after that is Pierre’s turn to visit. They hug for what feels like hours. Charles went completely limp in his arms.

"I was so fucking scared for you. I saw you spin in the air... I'm so sorry, Charles. You deserved that win more than anyone else. And Ocon, god... I couldn't stand him before and now I just want to strangle him."

"Thanks for standing up for me."

"Always, he really shouldn't have said that. He doesn't have any right to even stand in the same room as you,” continues to rumble Pierre, still pissed about it all.

"I don't even get why he would say that, he's the one that crashed into me. It came out of nowhere, is it really about what you told me?" he huffs looking up at his best friend face without letting go of the embrace.

Pierre, last season, told him how in Alpine tensions were very high. Apparently they are about to drop Ocon out of the team because of his behavior towards both Pierre and other drivers, particularly on track. What Pierre noticed though, in passing mainly, was how Alpine was set on making comparisons between Ocon and Leclerc.

The Alpine guys liked Charles, with Pierre there Charles often found himself spending more time with them. Of course they grow fond of him the more the saw him. But then the comparisons started and Ocon grew an intense resentment towards him.

Alpine wanted Charles Leclerc, with his perfect personality and outstanding talent. Unfortunately all they had were his best friend and… Ocon.

At least Pierre they liked better.

Ocon was tired of hearing Leclerc’s name when they weren’t even racing in the same category. Alpine clearly could not afford Charles no matter how much they tried, it was unreasonable and unrealistic. The team did not care and continued to compare them.

“I don’t think so, I mean… I’m sure he hates hearing your name but not because of that,” Pierre chuckles sending him a clear look that means something.

Charles knows that look, it’s the one Pierre uses when he doesn’t want to say out loud a secret only they know. Unfortunately Charles doesn’t.

“What?”

“What? You know what!” And he laughs, again, throwing his head back.

Now Charles is getting annoyed. He lets go of the other.

“No, I don’t know. What are you talking about?”

“You know! That thing he’s mad about since forever!” He waves his hand in the air in disregard.

“About the girl? What does that have to do with me?” Because that’s got to do with Pierre and him not knowing how to keep his dick in his pants, not Charles. That’s for sure.

“What? No! I mean, also! Come on, calamar, you know what I’m talking about!” Pierre stops his snickering, finally, and notices the pissed off expression on his friend “…Or I guess you don’t. Oh my god!” He exclaims out of breath, like he can’t believe it.

“Pierre I’ll fucking kill you. What do you know?!” Urges him Charles coming closer, a frown pulling at his face.

Pierre has his eyes wide open from the shock, one hand goes to his mouth. He doesn’t know whether to laugh at Charles or not.

“I can’t believe it! Esteban had a crush on you! He always had the biggest crush on you!” He tells him, still in absolute shock.

“No, he didn’t. That’s disgusting.” Is Charles’ quick reply.

Pierre throws both his hands on his hair, messing it up “He did! That’s why he hates me. I stole both his boy and his girl!” He bursts out laughing all over again.

Charles feels sick.

“We were never together, Pierre. He knew that and he never told me anything.”

Pierre and Charles never got together for real despite what it may look like. Charles thought he was in love with Pierre at first and they both were at that phase of adolescence where they questioned their sexuality. Charles, being enable to keep things to himself, told Pierre how he felt. Pierre told him they could try and work it out because he wasn’t sure about what he liked yet too. They messed around a bit, took a lot of each other’s firsts and then accepted their love was purely platonic. Charles’ heart broke in the moment but then he quickly realized Pierre was just there at the right time. Pierre understood he was straight (even though he confessed that Charles would be his only exception) and Charles that he was bisexual.

That was the story, Ocon never came in the picture.

And so Pierre begins to list off what he knows “One: he didn’t know because we never told him anything, he for sure knew we were screwing around. Two: he confronted me one time! Got so mad at me for whatever reason. And three: he heard us talking, heard you saying how you couldn’t stand him or whatever, I don’t fucking know!”

“What? Oh god.”

Charles honestly doesn’t know what to even think. How is it that he finds out these things after years?

“Yeah! How did you not know? He was obvious!”

“I don’t fucking know! Fuck!” Its Charles’ turn to mess up his hair.

“Well, it’s not like you weren’t telling the truth…”and here is Pierre’s sly smirk coming back on his lips.

Charles fights a smile at the tone “Fuck off! This is serious!”

“You broke his heart and you didn’t ever realize, this is so funny,” he laughs again, tears streaming down his face “I’m almost sorry for him, you’re so mean.”

“I would have handled it better if you just told me, fucking dickhead.”

“Well, what’s done is done. If he’s mad because little Charlie didn’t like him then that’s on him. You can’t change how you feel.”

“Yeah, but…”

“There’s no but. And anyway, he should never say those things either way, you personally didn’t do anything. For what I know, you’ve treated him with respect.”

“Of course, I’m just… God, I fucking hate him.”

"Me too" Pierre smiles at him. "Now that that’s cleared, I know you probably don't wanna hear it but I'm gonna tell you anyway."

Charles shuts his hears "I don't care about Max."

"I know you don't,” and the tone he uses and the expression on his face tells completely another story, even his best friend does not take him seriously “but he called me several times and I told him to leave you alone until the next race so you're welcome. He won't bother you, he needs to understand he can't drive like that." Silence, then he looks away "I might have yelled at him too, just so you know. For one hour straight."

That makes Charles smile come back.

"Yeah, it was a stupid move. Thank you, I really just want to relax and not get into a screaming match with him."

"I know, he sounded really pissed so he needs time to cool off too."

His break is spent between the factory and testing, seeing his friends, attending a few parties and just staying at home, avoiding Max like the plague. He's thankful that Monaco is so private and he's not treated like he's such a scandal. It's a competitive sport, people fight all the time. He's not special.

When he's back in the paddock tho... There is another story. Ferrari released a statement prior to the race saying that he will not comment on what happened and he's free to not answer questions. Many of the drivers actually received the same orders too. When the reporters begin to understand no one is going to answer seriously they give up thankfully.

Seeing Max in the distance is heart breaking. He hasn't seen or talked to him in two weeks. They had even made plans to spend the break together and now look at them. Not talking. He left Spidey in the care of Lorenzo's girlfriend who was more than happy to feed him and keep him company.

He tries to avoid staying too much time outside his team garage or motor home mainly because he doesn't want to accidentally bump into either Hulkenberg or Ocon. He can't have another fight, Ferrari explicitly told him he's not allowed again for at least this season. So yeah, he respects that decision, he understands and he's very thankful that the team was backing him up this time. He had every right to be upset and they think so too by the looks of it.

Before the free practices Max tries to approach him, to stand beside him, send him kicked dog puppy eyes. Charles continues to glare, walks away from him and tells him to stay away from him when he'd had enough. Max is clearly frustrated, doesn't smile or joke, snaps at people. Especially Pierre who's just looking out for Charles a little too aggressively. At least Lando is there for Max, lending him a shoulder. Lando sends pleading looks at Charles too.

But Charles just doesn't feel ready yet. He was so scared and angry for that crash. While he was crumbling at the sight of his car, in pain from the tumble, Max was celebrating his win. It's just not fair. Not for Charles and not for Max either. Because all of a sudden he feels all the hatred he bottled up all this time come crashing down on him. He knows Max better now but he just can't help himself.

When Charles can't shove Max away from him Pierre and Carlos are very good bodyguards. Blocking Max with their body or distracting Charles with 'important' conversations. Pierre was the one who took it a little too far threatening Max to cut his balls off and use them for training. All Max did was try to take Charles hand to probably talk and sort things out. Charles snatched his hand away, it took all his willpower. Max looked hurt and rolled his eyes at Pierre. He turned away grumbling something. It must have took all of his  patience because he looked ready to fight Pierre. It was just a little bit funny.

He's changing into his race suit when the door of his driver room slams open, the reminder to not disturb him fluttering down. He raises his head ready to yell for not knocking and sees Max. A very out of breath Max.

"Get out."

"Charles, come on, please."

Max closes the door behind him.

"No, I really don't want to fight. The race is like an hour away."

"Just, let's talk, shatje. I'm not here to fight. I was so fucking worried about you, are you okay?"

"I don't want to hear it, Max. I'm serious. I'm sure you are fucking proud of that win. Congratulations by the way, really. Taking me out was just a matter of time."

"Charles, listen to m-" he takes one step forward.

"No, Max. You listen to me. Who do you think I am? You think I'm just gonna forgive you like that? Because I'm your boyfriend? I'm a racer first and that wasn't okay. You didn't just force me off track you fucking drove me out of it entirely. That's not fair, Max. It's not."

"I've never said that you have to forgive me,"his face pulled in a slight frown, lips almost pouting like Charles just offended him.

"You're right. Completely right!" he scoffs "Because you didn't even ever fucking said sorry in the first place!"

At that Max lights up.

"Of course I'm not sorry. You wanted me to treat you like everybody else on the grid and I did. You can't accuse me of shit when you don't like it. I'm not sorry about the move but I am sorry it ended like that. It wasn't my intention."

"I don't fucking care, Max. I can't even look at you now," he huffs turning away, he has so much to say he doesn't even know from where to begin. That's why he didn't want to talk to him yet "That was such a stupid move even from you."

And Max can't help but scoff "Come on now, like you haven't done worse. You are no saint."

And that...was not the right thing to say. Charles turns back around to face him instantly.

"Get the fuck out,” he points at the door “Try to tell me one more time I've been crashing into you on purpose and I swear Max, there will be no 'us', not even as rivals."

Well, okay, Max can admit that Charles has never crashed on purpose but it looked like he tried many times, at least from Max's prospective. No one drives that close or pushes an overtake that hard not hoping the opponent goes into a wall by himself.

Max manages to keep his mouth closed this time. Hurray.

It's all silent for a couple of seconds. Charles looks away again, his arms falling back down against his side "I'm starting to think maybe we should really just end this, honestly," Charles mutters, more to himself than to Max.

Max pales hearing those words, that determination. That's not what he wants, at all. Charles is his, he is Max’s companion, the person who understands him most, the one that makes him feel alive. He has learned that Charles is the one he has been longing for all this time. The same one he can't wait to complain about to Daniel, telling him all the little mischiefs and how annoying he is. Spending nights hearing his sister on the phone going on about how nice and so much better than him Charles is. He can't not have Charles now that he had him all for himself. He can't even imagine it, doesn't want to.

"Don't say that, please."

And in any other circumstance Max would hate how tiny his voice sounds to his own hears. Right now he doesn’t care.

He failed them, so soon.

Max feels bile coming up his throat.

Charles starts picking at a lose red thread on his fireproofs “I don't know. We have a stressful job and adding that to our relationship... I don't know, I personally can't bear it. Like I said before this is gonna happen again and again. I can't take it. Things are just gonna pile up on us every weekend."

And saying it out loud doesn't hurt like he expected, probably because it's true. Max and Charles are like two flames, free and wild, ready to destroy whatever it's on their path. Anyone can imagine what could happen if they stay near each other, let alone actually together. It's why they have always butted heads, it's why they could never really reach a compromise or why they just fuel the other with anger over little things.

Max takes another step to get closer to his suffering lover "I know but you're too important to me, I don't care how mad I'll get. I still need you at the end of the day, do you? Do you not think the same?" Now he's beginning to panic, eyes frantic looking all over Charles’ frame.

And it's true, call him selfish but it simply is. No matter what he says Max will for sure get angry at Charles about something. He does not want Charles to vanish from his place in his life because of that though, especially if it's caused by work related things. He is aware that one of his rules about having a serious relationship was to let go of the person if they happened to not be happy to be with him. It was one of his main principles, especially if his job was on the line. He'd be the first to let them go, for their sake. But now, finding himself in a similiar situation with Charles not fulfilled and upset about their relationship... Max would love to call himself the bigger man and put an end to it, call it off. But he can't, he physically can't bring himself to do that. He feels this incredible urge to fix it instead. He simply can't lose Charles.

"Max I know I haven't said it but I do like you a lot and I did miss you even more these days, that's not the problem,” Charles wants to make that clear. His feelings are not on the table and even though Charles is sure Max already knows that, it’s better to remind him “but I don't know...I want to look at my boyfriend and just think about how happy and safe he makes me feel and not how he made me crash and destroyed my car, you know? Or about how he stole my win. It's not good for me or you

We are not playing here, Max, we are not in karts anymore. Do you get it?"

The RedBull driver takes one step back "You sound like you've made your decision," Max is getting on the defensive. His voice his rough and steady, shoulders straight and tense. He looks really hurt. Walls are standing up tall, one after the other, the distance in between them looks kilometric and Charles feels cold, really fucking cold.

But then, the fire always wins and lights him up in an instant.

"Don't you dare fucking say that so lightly!" His words hurt Charles even more than he imagines and all of his insecurities burst out like a river. "No, I haven't! For your information, I fucking haven't!" He yells at him "And it's fucking frustrating because I miss you, I want to hug you and kiss you...you've made me depend on you and I really hate you for that," crumbles Charles "It's not fair. It hurts so fucking much just seeing you. I hate that. Why can't we just have fun on track?”

He cries.

The he takes one shaky breath and continues emptying out his chest.

“I want to come home happy about my race, about yours. I want to hold you and just be happy together. I don't want to fight every damn time. You think I want this?" He feels the tears striking his cheeks, Max takes his arms and hands off his face "But you make me so fucking angry, I make you angry and then we just fight all over again about the thing we love the most...I hate it, Max, I really do. It's so fucking frustrating. I don't want to fight you and at the same time I can't help it. I never asked for a relationship like this."

For Max it is simply devastating hearing all that.

Suddenly Max’s finds himself in front of the other, his legs moving instinctively “Charles, don't cry," Max takes the red driver in his arms, gathering all the broken pieces into his chest “It's okay, we'll get through this. It's gonna hurt for some time but we'll come out of this, I promise," he rubs his back while Charles continues to sob and sniffle in his chest. It's so painful to watch him like this. "We just have to learn how to be around each other all over again. It is going to take time."

Seeing Charles so sad because of him is an unpleasant surprise. While it was the team that made him suffer, Max felt only anger but now it's him? He reduced Charles like this? It's painful, so hard to witness and realize.

"Oh, shatje, I'm so sorry. So fucking sorry."

"Why the fuck did you have to crash into me?" he asks in between sniffles. He wants to punch him and hold him tighter at the same time.

"If I say it's racing you'll just get mad at me. But I think you should think about the situation in a objective way," he sighs and keeps a soft voice "I know it's hard. You're a driver, you know it's more likely this happens the more you fight to the limit. I'm sorry it had to be me, I'm really sorry. You're hurt and sad about a win that was yours, I know that feeling. I've been there, you've been there too before. We just gotta learn how to separate the two things, it's possible, we just have to figure out how. I know it hurts, I'm so sorry it has to be like this. I wish it wasn't."

Charles knows he's right, everyone knows he's right. He would have said the same things had it been the other way around. Does it still hurts? Like a fucking bitch.

"That's why I can't let you go. I keep thinking all of that but I'm still so fucking mad about the race and thinking we will for sure go through all of this again kind of scares me. I don't know if I have the strength to do this all over, Max. I do care about you though, I really do, don't think I'm ready to give you up because I'm not. I'm really not, Max," he cries harder. All the pent up emotions of the last two weeks are all crashing into him like a tsunami. Just wave after wave of stress, anger, disappointment and anxiety.

"I know, Charles. Take deep breaths," he instruct him petting his hair "You don't have to give anything up, don't worry. It will be hard but it will be easier over time. You just gotta be strong for me until then, I know you can do it. You're the strongest person I know, I'm sure you can do it. I'm sure we can do it. We just have to be patient and not let emotions take completely over. I know it's hard, believe me, but you make it all worth it. So fucking worth it, Charles, you've got no idea," Max hugs Charles tighter if even possible. His voice wobbly like he's seconds away from sobbing himself while trying to calm down the other who completely gave up holding everything in. Charles can just shake his head and hold him back, tighter, make him understand that he feels the same.

"I'd love to promise this won't ever happen again but I can't. I really, really wish I could, baby. And I would also love to say what stays on track stays on track but we both know it's not that simple. I'm so sorry I can't. It's a shitty job sometimes," he takes a deep breath, his heart is going miles a minute. He's so scared of losing this, of losing Charles and their bond that they built over the many years. Holding the one he cares so much about crying and hurting so bad because of him is devastating. The worst thing to ever happen until now and one he hopes never happens again. It's wishful thinking, he knows that, he can't help but hope.

"I believe in us," he finishes.

Charles continues crying for a long time, letting it all out. He cries all his sadness away until he doesn't have tears left. And Max holds him right through it all. Whispers him sweet things and stays there. Being held like that is all Charles needed at that point. Just his steady presence, grounding him. When he can't cry anymore he just stays in his arms, hugs him until he's calm again enough to talk and look him in the eyes. They both have shiny and red eyes.

"Thank you, Max. I'm sorry I said those things about us," he leaves one hand on the back of his neck stoking the short hair there.

"It's okay, I'm glad you told me. Those were all valid thoughts, don't ever think otherwise."

"I am still gonna need some time," admits Charles. He's not going to lie and say that everything's alright, it probably will never be. It will be different each time. Every argument they will have will shape their relationship for sure.

"Take all you need, I'm gonna be here. Do you feel better though?" He touches him lightly on his side and face in a comforting manner, like he's made of glass. Max looks so lost honestly. Like he has no idea if he fucked up too bad, like he's afraid Charles is still gonna walk away from him and he will never have the chance to look into his green eyes. Like he'll never have the chance to hold him ever again and he's taking his time to appreciate what he's got at the moment because everything is slipping through his fingers and he can't do anything about it.

Just looking in his sea blue eyes and his devastated expression Charles feels like crying all over again. He cares about this man so fucking much he doesn't even think it was considered possible. And it looks like Max feels exactly the same.

"I do, actually," he sniffles rubbing his eyes. Max takes his hands away muttering something about ruining them. He's so weird.

"Great, let's enjoy this race, yeah?" he kisses right below his eye, so light Charles almost don't feel the sweet touch.

"Don't let this interfere on track. I mean it," warns Charles sniffling one more time "Just don't fucking crash into my car on purpose"

"I wouldn't dare to."

The red driver gives him a little smile before leaving one last peck on the side of his mouth. Max's face lights up just a tiny bit and it's everything that matters.

"And Charles?"

"...yes?"

"Please don't drive me off track today?"

Charles smiles "Of course not, chéri."

Max is screwed.

Charles wins the race by a millisecond ahead of Max. They practically cross the finish line together, Max and him. They say congratulation to the other and that's pretty much all they do, they don't really interact. There are cameras and microphones ready to pick up anything and make it into a drama and twist the story. Charles, and everyone else, doesn't want anything to do with it anymore. He's so tired of hearing things that are so wrong and misplaced that he prefers staying silent and not give anything up.

When they come back from the podium, Max, Charles and Carlos meet on the corridors with other drivers who are also going back to their garage or motor homes. Many stop them to congratulate them. Charles is not really in the mood so he just accepts them with a smile and a brief side hug before he continues walking with Max on his heels. He only stops when someone shoulders past him forcefully. He doesn't make it in time to turn that Max shoves Ocon in the wall and keeps him there for a second.

"Watch it,” Max mutters staring him down with icy eyes, if he had the ability to growl like a lion he would right this moment. He then leads Charles away who was going to say the exact same thing if not do something more.

"Move along,” hurries Carlos glaring behind them at the French driver still against the wall.

"What is his fucking problem?"

"Tu as un chien de garde maintenant? Tu devrais raccourcir la laisse" Yells Ocon from behind.

Charles turns around but stays where he is, far enough to not fall into the temptation to punch him.

"And even if I do? Who do you have?" He waits two seconds "Can't think of anyone?" He asks tilting his head at the silence "That's what I thought," he then walks away again scoffing and looking straight ahead of him. Ocon doesn't even deserve the risk of getting into a another fight or scandal. Maybe that's his evil plan to get back to him.

"What did he say? I swear I'm gonna punch him in the throat one of these days," asks Max from beside him.

Its funny because when Verstappen got into that crash with Ocon the situation was very similar.

"Just usual bullshit," he bets Ocon speaks in French because he doesn't want the others to understand the shits that he's saying "When is the debrief?"

"Right after the conference, they said they will be quick as we didn't have anything special happening."

"Okay, guess I'm gonna take a shower first then."

"Yep, me too. Your garage is over there, by the way," reminds Carlos to Max. His cheeks are suddenly bright red. It's very cute.

"Maybe he wants a tour," jokes Charles smirking at Max.

"I'm good, I'll see you all later," he waves before going inside the RedBull box.

"He's acting strange lately,” comments Carlos falling into step with Charles.

"I know, he's all over the place,” chuckles Charles looking down his shoes to keep from smiling.

"Yeah but with you in particular. You should have seen him last race, he was eighteen all over again," insists the Spaniard, like he wants Charles to admit something.

"Don't worry, I think I'm gonna talk to him later and see what's going on."

"Yeah? You sure? Want me come with?"

That’s strange for Carlos to ask.

"No, really, its okay. Don't worry"

Carlos looks at him one more time to make sure.

"You two are together, right? Like, together together," he raises his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Charles looks away immediately, cheeks feeling hotter "Maybe," Carlos shoves him away at that snickering.

"Tsk, 'maybe'," he mimics Charles voice and accent "Shut up. It's so obvious."

"It's not,” whines Charles pouting.

Carlos rolls his eyes "I can't imagine the fights, Dios..." he mumbles before letting him go to shower and change in less smelly clothes. Charles can only nod and agree.

It's all smooth from there. Conference is fine, no one saw anything or at least didn't tell the press what happened in the corridors so that's good, the questions go by quick. In the briefing with the team same thing, they are all happy with their performance today and with the data. They did notice a slight change in the tyre degradation which brings back so many bad memories. Charles immediately asks if it's something they should worry about, he thought he did okay honestly. They reassure him, telling him they'll take care of it and to just drive the same way as he always has and that they'll adjust whatever is wrong with the car. Charles calms down but takes a quick mental note to check the progress later with the mechanics. Maybe send an email or two to the factory.

Like Carlos said, they finish pretty early compared to the usual. They instruct him to spend some time with some fans who have been waiting for him before he's free to go and do whatever he wants. When he's pretty much done he walks toward the RedBull side.

Judging from the emptiness outside it looks like they are still not finished talking, only the pit crew is there to put away the last things, no principal in sight. He's stopped before he can step foot inside.

"What are you doing here?" It's someone still in race gear and has hands covered in motor oil. Unfortunately it's someone Charles has never interacted with. Strange. Charles made a point years ago to get to know the RedBull crew because they are all young and attractive. You never know when those things could come in handy.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to talk with Max. Did he come back?"

"No, he'll be back soon though."

"Okay, can I wait in his driver room? Or do I have to stay outside?" He asks just in case.

The other stares at him, Charles feels very uncomfortable "You can come. Don't look at anything and don't cause any trouble, stay by the door," the Leclerc charm never fails.

"Don't worry. Thank you," he sends him a sweet smile, the guy looks away caught off guard.

Never fails.

When he finds the room he slips inside anyway. Again, it's all very blue and has flags and photos that are very unfamiliar with him but it's nice, they're all a part of Max after all.

He sits down on the tiny bed, already bored out of his mind. He closes his tired eyes and waits.

"Oh neuk!" Max has a hand on his chest "You scared the shit out of me!" he takes a breath to calm down. He did look like he was ready to throw hands "What a nice surprise! How come you're here so early?" He sits down next to him at the edge of the bed stroking his hair.

"Just wanted to see you and ask you if you wanted a ride back to the hotel," he replies half asleep. He was getting comfy.

"Sure, shat. Let me change and call Chris."

"Oh, you can go back with Horner I don't want to intrude or something," he turns to lay on his side to have a better view of Max.

"Oh yeah because Chris is much better company than the hottest, cutest and handsomest driver in the world."

Charels yawns stretching “That sounds like you only like me for my good looks."

Max turns towards him, looks him up and down (or side to side as he's still laying down), and then clicks his tongue shrugging "I mean, sometimes he's funny and he does have a nice accent so I like hearing him talk."

"You like the French accent? Since when?"he clearly remembers Max saying the opposite.

"I hate it. I love your French/Italian accent, there's a difference."

"You're a flirty bastard. You ready?" He stands up stretching again hearing a couple of bones crack and picking up his backpack.

Max nods and opens the door "What are you doing? You can't go out like this,” comments the red driver.

Max looks down at himself and frowns not understanding. He's dressed fine. Normal.

"Could you imagine the headlines tomorrow? 'Max Verstappen in Charles Leclerc's Ferrari' please, I'd rather not." He opens his backpack and searches around "Put these on at least."

He hands Max a red hat and a pair of sunglasses "I'm not putting that on,” he looks up at Charles’ mischievous eyes. That's what revenge looks like, uh?

"You have to or you go back with Christian"
Max looks at him directly in his eyes with a light pout on his lips. Charles doesn't care and just puts the hat on his head and then the raybans.

He looks ridiculous and strange but good enough for now. He still has a blue shirt on but that's fine, at least it's not a Red Bull one.

"Besides, blondes look good in red, you know? I hope they don't recognize you outside." He hands him a mask to be safe.

"I hope no one sees me in the paddock. Let's walk quickly, come on. If someone from the crew sees me I'm screwed for life,"

Charles’ eyes glint "LOOK IT'S—-" he begins shouting but Max shuts him up by placing a hand on his mouth and keeps it there while trying to push him away from the garage "Shut the fuck up, Leclerc. You can lick and struggle all you want."

"Dashusarheshaidt."

"What's that?"

When they're outside Charles can finally take off the hand "That's what he said."

"So funny, really."

When they get in the Ferrari borrowed from his team they exit the race ring where a lot of fans are still waiting. Max stays in his corner doing his best to not be recognized while Charles waves and drives off making sure to not crash into someone. That would be very bad.

"So how does it feel?" He asks Max who's taking out his sun glasses. He felt really stupid because it's night out, Charles responded with 'it's fashion'. He would have looked credible if he wasn't holding in his laughter.

"You do know I own three Ferraris right? One of them is a 488 Pista too."

"Mines special tho. I've never see you in one."

"Good, I can't be seen in one. Do you drive you Mercedes' around?"

"How do you know I own a Mercedes?"

"I like knowing the cars collections of other drivers."

Charles follows Max in his hotel room before diving in his couch.

”I apologized to Nico by the way," confesses Charles.

He happened to bump into him while on his way to Max's.

”Yeah? How did it go?"

Charles takes a deep breath "Well, he understood the adrenaline. It wasn't his fault and I shouldn't have yelled at him," he kinda feels embarrassed about it. It took a while to settle in but when it did he realized just how stupid he had been. Accidents happen. Nico completely forgave him.

"And how do you feel?" Asks Max.

"Down. Too many negative emotions all together."

"Hmm, I'm sorry you feel like that. Anything I can do about it?”

"Not crash into me?"

Yeah, Max should've expected that.

"Noted. Something else?"

"You could begin by making Ocon mysteriously disappear or order something to eat."

"If I could I would have done that a long ago, shatje. He ruined my race too. He's just a jealous fucking rat. What do you want to eat?"

"He didn't even ruin my race that bad, I wasn't angry at him, I was—am  angry at you! He attacked me for no reason, that piece of shit. If I, I don't know, put his head in a wall, can you stay in front and make sure no one sees it? I can't have another scandal."

"Sure babe, I'd love to actually. I'll take the blame too. Honestly, they all think the worst of me anyway and I really don't care," he shrugs "What do you feel like eating?"

"We're so mean."

"I know," laughs Max picking up the phone "So, what do you want?"

"I wouldn't seriously hurt him, by the way. Just a little bit."

"Got it. To eat?"

"Like, I'm not violent. I just want to scare him."

"Food?"

"More than scare him now that I think about it. Throw a good punch, I took boxing lessons for a reason, non?"

"Eat??"

"I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad if no one knows about it, I just don't want him near me again. Or Pierre."

"Charles!" Max throws a pen laying around at him. He misses.

The Monegasque looks offendend.

"Why the fuck are you screaming now?"

Max points at the phone in his hand "What do you wanna eat?"

"I don't know, whatever you're having. Jesus, you gave me an heart attack."

"I've been asking while you've been ranting about beating someone up!"

"Yeah, and you weren't even listening! I was saying that I don't want to hurt him, just keep him on his toes, you know?"

"All I heard is you wanting to bash his head into a wall."

"I didn't say that! Max! I didn't say that!" He shouts trying to make it clear. Max ignores him talking on the phone and walking away from him.

Once he comes back Charles is cuddled up around one of the pillows.

"Why are you sad?"

"I'm here trying to not be too upset with you and you just accuse me."

"You wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I will slap you and punch him."

"So I'm not saying things out of my ass, you said it too!"

"No! That's—Max!" He whines collapsing on the couch.

"Why does he get a punch and me a slap? That shit stings like a motherfucker."

"Because I can't ruin your pretty face, his is already ruined."

Max’s eyes widen at those words “Wow, Leclerc! Throwing shade like there's no tomorrow! I love it, it is so cute. Look at your dimples showing. I'm sorry shatje, I don't think even Ocon would be scared of you looking like that."

"Max, oh my god, shut the fuck up!" he picks up a pillow and smashes it in his own face.

"If you want I'll be your right arm." He says opening the door "Thank you," the delivery guy goes away looking very confused. Max doesn't care, even if he said something about Charles being in his room no one would ever believe him.

"No. There's no satisfaction in that," he opens the bag that Max gives him "They were quick," he muses.

"So you are violent."

"I'm not, don't say that."

"I mean, I've been on the other side of your anger."

"Of course, you're still there and you will be so many times more! You're a fucking expert I would say."

"You're right. But I can still make you smile, if Ocon can do that and I see it then I'll kill myself. I'm not even joking."

"Why?"

"Oh my, just thinking about it makes me physically sick."

"What?"

"You, smiling and giving those exact eyes at him? I'd go insane. Please, anyone else but him. I beg you."

Charles chuckles “It’s funny you say that actually.”

“What?” Max’s face begins to drain of all color. He feels like he’s about to discover something he will not like. Charles’ grin doesn’t help.

“I recently discovered that Ocon had a crush on me. He got jealous of Pierre and that’s also why they hate each other. And hates me too apparently.”

Max should listen to his gut more often, he knew he would not like this.

“Oh my god, I should have know. Why was he jealous of Pierre? Why does he hate you now??”

“We liked to play around at that time—“

“…Oh my god—“

“—and I guess he knew that and put two and two together. Anyway, he also hates me because he heard me saying bad things about him. On top of all of this Alpine really likes me,” finishes in one breath Charles.

A couple of seconds pass by in absolute silence.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” admits Max “You had sex with Pierre?”

Charles rolls his eyes gulping down a piece of food “That’s not what’s important, Max! Besides, come on…” even Charles can say it’s obvious they did. All it takes is one look.

Max decides, in a moment of maturity, to catalogue the information away “Well, I’m not surprised Ocon liked you. That kind of petty hate had to do with something stupid like that. Besides, I think you made everyone question their sexuality those years.”

“Even you?”

Max clicks his tongue “Don’t get excited, I had better things to worry about,” survive the clutches of his father for example “And I could not stand the sight of you.”

“Boring,” huffs Charles “I should have given a chance to Ocon.”

“Please, anyone but him, Charles. Go to Hamilton I don’t care but not that worm” Max sounds dead serious too.

Charles laughs.

"Noted. Won't happen anyway. I guess if I saw you do those things to him too I'd do the same."

"Aww, that's so cute. Are you still mad at me?"

"Yep. But I mean, I want to be the only one that can ever say 'oh, Max Verstappen looked at me like I hung the stars' or some cheesy shit like that."

"Sounds possessive if you ask me."

"I don't share. Unless..."

"I don't wanna hear it," Max is already covering his ears.

"Could you imagine if like Daniel asked to join us? I'd say yes only if he doesn't catch feeling for you."

"I'm beginning to think I should worry about Daniel for real. He comes up way too many times in times like these and he's not even on the grid."

Charles finishes his last dish and begins putting the rubbish away "I'm joking. Unless..."

"Please not again."

Charles laughs "It's okay."

"I don't know if I would define the fact that my boyfriend tells me multiple times he would leave me for one of my best friends as 'okay'."

"I didn't say I would leave you."

"Not this time!"

Charles comes up to him and puts a hand under his jaw lifting his head up "I'm very loyal, just so we're clear," he kisses his lips. They haven't kissed in two weeks. It feels like coming home, he missed him so fucking much he's scared. So, he does it again, for good measure.

And Max knows that what Charles says is true. Charles has always been very loyal. German Shepard type of loyal. He would say Golden Retriever but those things could change owner with the first human shaped object that passes them, but they do look more similar. Prime example: staying in Ferrari when they fucked him up over and over again.

But he also remembers when they were very little. Pierre accidentally broke something expensive from another Kart, he looked really fucking scared. Max saw Charles whispering something to a nearly crying Pierre. He probably was just reassuring him and calming him down, but he had fire burning in his eyes. Then the adults come in threateningly, some other kid snitched on Pierre and the owner of the Kart asked what he did and to take responsibility. Charles was there too with fierce eyes swearing that it wasn't Pierre. Charles has never been a good liar - even Max knew it back then, it was a fact well known - but that day he deceived everyone and Pierre didn't get in any kind of trouble.

Max remembers the episode very clearly for some reason. Maybe he just wanted a friend like Charles, someone who stuck up to him in those years, when he really needed one more than ever. It was probably for the better he didn't.

Max smiles up at him. Charles lets him go.

"Anyway, I am going back to my room."

"What, why? Stay here. I haven't seen you in weeks, please."

"I'm just—" he trails off, not knowing how to express himself, can't look at Max and his pleading face "Not in the mood I guess. I'm still very upset with everything going on and I want to take some more time for myself. I just wanted to see you before the next race."

Max visibly saddens but he takes a deep breath in and smiles at him.

"That's okay, I'll see you in Belgium then?" He asks standing up to walk the other to the door.

"Yep, good night and have a safe flight back."

"You too, shatje. I'll miss you," he says bringing him closer by the hips when Charles steps right in front of him.

"I'll miss you too," he kisses him one more time by slightly standing up on his tip toes before looking into those bright blue eyes.

Max dives in more passionately not wanting to let him go. Charles doesn't hold back and kisses him just as hard before they separate. At last he opens the door.

"Bye bye."

On his walk to his room his lips still tingle.

Chapter Text

Once they get to spa Max and Charles’ relationship is pretty much where they left it off before the fight. It's not the same, it will never be, it will take much more time to let all resentment go but they're happy and that's what matters the most. They texted and called everyday whenever they had a break from work duties. Charles slowly begins acting like himself again without hating on Max too much, it's racing after all. It hurts and makes you feel miserable but these are things that unfortunately happen all the time on track, this time it was him getting the short end of the stick. Next time who knows? Could be him again with his luck or it could be Max.

The important question is, will they get over it next time?

"Hi, Max. Hello Checo, how are you?" Carlos and him meet with the RedBull’s drivers on their way to the hospitalities.

Checo and Max don't really spend much time together if not necessary. Their relationship is very complicated, strictly professional at times, with Max being the obvious first driver. It was said multiple times by both Max and Christian own mouths which upset the driver very, very much. Not like he didn't knew what he got into. Max has always been the main project of the team, everything revolves around him.

That's why the Mexican drives until exhaustion to prove his worth. Not having the fastest car this time around though really showed how many other skilled drivers there are on the grid at the moment worthy of that sought seat. He doesn't get as many podiums anymore - he barely makes points really - and he's obviously very upset. Pretty sure he's only getting renewed every year because of the huge marketing he brings and his tendency of keeping out of Max's way. Still a nice dude though and doesn't have any resentment towards Max specifically.

He’s aware Max is something special. He can’t compete with him.

When Charles gets to be outside the paddock - hidden in a corner, enjoying his ten minutes away from all the car related talk - he likes to watch everyone running around. There aren't many cameras around still, it's too early, but everyone has places to be and things to do before the race. Formula 1 is not just about the race and cars nowadays.

He spots Max after quite some time - he’s one of those that likes to postpone arriving on track as late as possible - walking with his staff, sipping on his usual morning RedBull while listening to whatever they're telling him. It's funny, he looks like a kid with those big blue eyes, nodding every now and then. How can anybody say he is mean and be intimidating must be blind.

Then he remembers some of the things that happened between them and then he can understand. Still, Max is not exactly mean or a bad person. Like Charles isn't for having been put in bad situations. You can't be perfect every time and be nice when everybody else is simply not. Especially if your name is Max Verstappen. It's easy to judge someone when it's not happening to you. He can get mean but he is not, most of the time at least. That's the first thing he learnt about Max since their relationship took a turn. He has barely a filter, that’s the truth.

Charles thinking Max was ‘mean’ has never been the reason he hated him. Max is just honest, that’s all.

Max is more simple than anyone thinks. You don't respect him? He won't respect you either. You don't play fair? He won't hesitate to do the same. You just got to be the first to show him what kind of person you are and he will act accordingly. So simple. He simply has an hard time trusting people.

Charles showed him from the very beginning he would fight hard and that's why Max fought harder. He's like a mirror. When Max became more of a rival than an enemy once they got older and Charles recognized his talent objectively, Max did the same. And once he got in Formula 1 Charles was impressed by how much the other grew and nurtured his birth given passion, that's how his respect for the other grew even more and Max did same. Max treated him like an equal, like he's the competition and not just some other driver on the way of his success. That's like the pinnacle of what you can ever become to him as a driver. Otherwise you are only an obstacle on his way to domination.

Like Daniel, Lando, Nyck, and many others showed they can be trusted and be considered a friend, Charles probably did the same along the way - if not something more, clearly.

Charles respect this kind of personality. It's fair. Frustrating at times too - he won’t lie - but fair. The downside is how badly you appear to the ones that don't know all of that and don't know how to approach him. Max doesn't actually care about that which again doesn't exactly make you likable.

Even when they fight, the things that Max says out of anger hurt the most because Charles knows he really consider those words to be true. Apart from when he's just looking to press his buttons. Max rarely ever lies and will tell you what he thinks truly and without any sugarcoating. It fucking sucks sometimes. Most of the times really. But it also helps you understand him more - if you are willing to. If you do something wrong to him, he will tell you what is it immediately. Doesn't matter if you think it was nothing, he won't leave you wondering if whatever you did actually hurt him or not. And he appreciates it when the other person does the same to him, he doesn't like having to find out if you're upset and why. Which is what Max struggles the most with Charles because the Monegasque is like a clamp: he does not talk. If it’s something stupid or superficial Charles is the first in line to complain loudly and make it everybody’s problem. However, the second his problem is one more deep, maybe regarding how he feels about certain things, then he bottles it all up or worse: he fakes the opposite. Max hates that to his core, especially because he catches Charles doing that every damn time and gets mad afterwards.

It's not to say he's got no patience though, he does have a lot, but he's not one to let you get away with it if he knows you are angry with him. He might not seem like it with his impassible face and death stare, but he's formidable at reading people.

It's one of the many things Charles likes about him. Honesty is Max's strength next to his determination and stubbornness. The latter being something that Charles can relate to more. When Max sets his eyes on something he'll do anything to get it because he knows he actually can. He wants to be perfect and the best in whatever he does and not just regarding racing. Maybe that's something that was drilled into him since he was a baby and he stuck with it throughout his life.

That's how he is with Charles too. He gives his all to their relationship, tries his damn hardest to make Charles happy. Obviously he's not always successful but at least he actually tries. Charles is aware of that even when he's furious with him, it's so clear in Max’s frustrated face whenever they argue. Because contrary to popular belief Max gets annoyed and angry very easily - that's true, Charles tests it every living day - but Max personally hates it. Max loathes showing anger that's why, when it’s possible, he tends to push the other away or take time for himself. And the more he tries to not get angry the more he does. Charles knows he can't help it - Charles does not blame him for the way he was taught to react - but sometimes it's overwhelming for him and he bursts too and they just fuel each other to no end. It's a complicated relationship.

Charles is more or less the opposite. He tries to give everyone a chance, he loves being loved. A people pleaser to put it simply. Having many people to turn to and being that person you want to have around; that's what he wants. It's always been like that. It's probably why they didn't get along very well at first, Max must have thought he was superficial and just crossed him off of his list of people that could be his friend. And he's probably right, it's not very healthy. Charles just thinks that he's always been very scared of being alone in such a harsh sport and in life in general. Then it was all confirmed when the people he really cared about abandoned him forever.

Now? He thinks he found the friends he can trust, surrendered himself with people that he knows will last and that he likes very much. He feels pretty stable and ready to get more loose. Show who he is from the get go and if you don't like it then that's okay, he doesn't really need you. He's tired of modeling his entire being to everybody he encounters. He just want to be himself and see what happens. He's not always honest at first, Charles needs his sweet time and gain confidence to talk like Max. He still slips sometimes, that familiar urge to say the right thing clinging to him, to gain something from the other person. He's scared they won't like him if doesn't tell everything they want to know but now he's learning to not care. He can't live his life building up on lies.

Maybe being around Max is starting to rub off on him.

So yeah, anyway, It's race day. It's still early, and they are all on the bus to wave at the fans for the driver parade around the track. There are many cameras always on them now, Netflix is there too filming some other team.

Max is leaning on the rail next to him, his hand is holding the pole running behind Charles' back for support. They are both discussing car things, pretty engrossed in the conversation while still paying attention to the fans. The others joke around paying no mind to them if not to maybe point out something funny or particularly interesting among the crowd.

"This year lineup is still so strange, I'm so happy to have Carlos in a way. Did you talk to Nyck about Yuki?" Changes topic Charles looking around him. There are so many conflicts going on. Last year it's wasn't so bad, they could all share a laugh more or less. They had fun when they had that famous dinner. Today there are many new drivers and old battles still unsolved that have been brought up. It's evident by the way they gravitate towards who they feel more safe with. Which is fine, it's normal but it's so entertaining to watch.

"It's great, teammates fighting is awesome when you're the favorite. It's a boost of confidence really. About Nyck and Yuki, well, Yuki really misses Pierre, can't handle the Dutchies. I mean, look at them."

Charles turns to the right, both ex teammates are catching up "Nyck is fun though, I bet they will be friends at some point. But yeah, I'm so sorry for Pierre too, he can't stop complaining."

"Of course, he has that piece of shit as a teammate. The only thing he can do is crash into him, same thing for poor Magnussen."

"Have you seen Alonso? I think he's starting to feel like he should have listened to Seb's advice. At least he's fighting for podiums."

"What was it?"

"To not sign for Aston Martin, especially if Lance is there."

"He wasn't doing any better in Alpine," states Max "The car is good."

"That's true," he laughs "Still, your situation is not any better."

"My situation is fine. My team is just clear with the geriatric, Checo is still accepting the fact that he has orders to not crash into me on purpose. And he also feels very threatened by Daniel possibly coming back. He's not even that bad as a person, it's a shame he can't keep up."

"Mate, you're really Horner's little benjamin."

Max pinches his waist making him squirm back "Don't call me mate, you asshole," Max glares at him, clicking his tongue.

"But bro! You're my buddy!" Charles goes for a fist bump, Max stares at him like he's dumb. Charles giggles looking up at Max.

"You and your fucking cute dimples, fucking menace," mutters Max turning away to wave at his many fans from Belgium. He says that like he doesn't have them too.

Then Pierre easily slips in beside Charles "I don't mean to interrupt whatever lovey dovey shit is going on but you're not being very subtle about it," he says mainly to Charles but sends looks at Max too “At all.”

Charles blushes looking away and immediately sees the camera lenses. He blushes harder leaning back against the rail and bumping into Max's bicep. He didn't even realize it was there!

"Max!" He whispers aggressively leaning more toward Pierre this time and trying to be as discrete as he can be, he's just in a friendly mood! Nothing more! It's not like he's finally talking face to face with his boyfriend who he hasn't seen properly in a week!

"What?" Asks Max bending down a little towards him to hear him better over the loud cheers. Now Charles understands what Pierre meant.

"Your arm!"

"What's wrong with my arm?" He asks lifting up his right one confused. Pierre face palms sighing hard.

"The other one, you imbecile! You might as well hug me and kiss while you're at it!"

Max looks at his right one and then it clicks. He pulls it away with fake non-chalant "Don't wanna kiss your ugly face, full of germs."

"You fucking wish you could have my precious bacteria. Pierre, let's go to Lewis."

"You both make me throw up" adds Pierre before Charles pulls him away, Max sticks out his tongue at Charles. The Monegasque rolls his eyes giving him the middle finger, sticking closer to Pierre just because he can. Max rolls his eyes at him.

"Throw up and sob in misery. Two children who share one single braincell."

When Pierre is asked about what happened on the parade and finds out he was actually blamed for the 'argument' he rolls his eyes so fucking hard he sees the back of his skull and beyond. Of course he still makes up a lie because he's a good friend.

Max wins the race along side Lewis and Lando, Charles in fourth. He comes back from the celebrations right after, not bothering to knock at his door anymore.

"You fucking animal."

Max immediately shuts his eyes and shakes his head, like he doesn’t want to hear what Charles has to say “Shh! What do you smell, Leclerc? What am I holding?"

Charles makes a face "I smell a man getting a trophy for not getting laid tonight. Disgusting."

Max grins "Ah, sweet jealousy. Love it! Finally I didn't have to see your fucking ugly car for two hours straight, I just enjoyed the scenery and Hamilton desperate on my back where he belongs. So, so lovely," he steps closer, bending down a moment to put down the stupid trophy.

"Don't you dare come closer, you really are disgusting. I would much rather have Lewis here, not you. For real." And Charles is dead serious, Max is dripping on his floor.

Max shakes his head, ignoring his last comment, too happy and high in adrenaline to let it bother him. Charles is just saying it to upset him, he knows. Right now, he doesn't care.

"What? I can't even get a kiss from my beautiful boyfriend now?"

Charles wrinkles his nose, Max is still getting closer and closer "You are drenched in sweat, champagne and RedBull. Stop right there!" Backs away Charles putting his hands up to keep him at a distance.

"Aww come on, baby, come here. You were loving it licking up sweat just yesterday, don't lie," and if Max could grin harder it would split his face in half.

Charles blushes "Back off. I mean it," he can't even deny it, he was loving it yesterday. Circumstances were different though!

The back of his knees bump on the little bed, Charles feels dread coming down his body as he has nowhere to escape now. Max takes hold of his hands victoriously "Come on, just a little kiss!"

"No!" Charles falls down and Max follows him on the bed "Ah! Get off, asshole!"

Charles struggles, wriggling around to try and hide from Max's attempts at kissing him, using everything he has. Max laughs trying to get closer and getting a mouthful of hair or a kick each time. Good thing he secured the others hands or he'd find himself scratched worse than when you try to pick Jimmy up.

"Charles! Just one! Keep still! Stop kicking me!"

"Get away! You stink! Help! Help me!"

"Don't shout like that, you stupid little monst—"

"Charles, here's your ph— OH DIO!" And the position Andrea finds them in is pretty incriminating: Charles is screaming and struggling under a much bigger and dangerous looking Max, both red in the face and wet.

Andrea is immediately on top of Max. Charles watches the scene unfold in slow motion.

"Lascia stare Charles! Cosa cazzo ci fai nella sua stanza! Ti ammazzo di botte, levati!" keeps screaming Andrea while yanking Max away from under his armpits like a little kid. The look Max sends him is priceless. Charles almost lost it right there.

"Oh ma sei pazzo? Ma ti sembra il caso? Che ti ha fatto adesso? In gara non vi siete manco visti, tu sei da galera!" Max's eyes are bigger than ever, not understanding a single word coming out of the Italian's mouth, trying to look as less threatening as possible.

Charles stands up when he sees Andrea raising his hands dangerously and Max flinching away helpless, not wanting to hurt his lover’s friend "Andre! Basta, stai fermo, non è successo niente!".

"Come stai? Tutto apposto? Ti ha fatto male?"

"Ma certo che sto bene Andre, stavamo solo giocando. Povero, lo stai spaventando. Look at him."

Andrea releases the breath he was holding ready to fight, he deflates like a balloon and turns to look at the RedBull driver who is with a hand on his mouth to hold in his laugh.

"I'm so confused, Charles. Why the fuck is he laughing. What the fuck were you two doing?"

Charles looks away from Max because if he doesn't he will not stop laughing for a while "He was— Well." This is harder then expected.

Andrea cocks his head, waiting. Charles clears his throat feeling uncomfortable.

Max snickers behind him whispering an 'Oh my god' while probably wiping away tears.

"Well?"

"Look Andre, me and Max are—Like, together? He's my boyfriend?" he admits insecure with a tiny voice.

"Sorry, your WHAT?!" explodes Andrea.

"I'll explain later, okay?"

Andrea begins spluttering out words in italian, can't seem to settle on anything and looking away frantically.

The two drivers watch him, giving him time, willing themselves to not laugh.

"And what was he doing? You were screaming for help! Is he abusing you, Charles? You can tell me," Andrea looks directly into Charles' eyes.

"Hey! I would never!" jumps in Max feeling rightly offended.

"You, shut up.” Andrea stops him on his place with one hard stare “Charles?"

"Okay, do you see him?"

Andrea looks at Max suspiciously then right back at Charles "Yes?"

"He stinks right? He's dirty, sopping wet, disgusting, right?"

Andrea nods "Right."

"Hey!" Interrupts Max.

They ignore him.

"And he was trying to kiss me!"

"Eww!" Andrea makes a disgusted face, Charles finally feels understood and points at Andrea yelling "See??"

Max sighs and rolls his eyes "You're both ridiculous."

Charles huffs a breath, Max can definitely not smell himself.

"Out of all the people you could have in this world you choose him? Charles, really?"

Charles drops his head devastated "I know, I must have hit my head."

Max elbows him "Fuck you."

Andrea laughs "And fuck you too," he adds for good measure before pulling a snickering Charles against him planting that so desired kiss. His back arches in a dip to try and escape but Max follows down easily, making sure to leave as much as sweat and champagne on Charles' face "I'm leaving," he declares once satisfied with the job.

Charles immediately puts as much distance as possible between them "Che schifo," he exclaims trying to wipe his face off, missing the fond look Andrea can't help himself from having.

The next day the summer break officially starts. Well, more of a couple days actually, Charles still has to go the factory and have a bunch of meetings and other things. Once he's finally back in Monaco he immediately takes the boat out with his brothers and closest friends to celebrate.

They have such a good time, free from the stress of the paddock and the adrenaline of the race. Then, when they are perfectly cooked from the sun they go in a nice restaurant and eat until they physically can't anymore. Charles really missed them, he wishes he had more time to spend like this, being so careless and without worry. They all then hit the club afterwards, drinking, dancing and singing. Charles' lips hurt from smiling so much and his throat runs dry by the end of the evening. He's sweaty and feels hot all over. Many offer him a dance with eyes full of sinfulness, Charles declines every time. So much so that his friends begins to grow suspicious of him. They ask him what's that about and encourage him to loosen up. Charles just laughs shaking his head and lifts his cup.

Max is back in Belgium with his mom, sister and friends for one full week. He's probably in some club too, having the time of his life. Living so far away he only sees everyone back home a handful of times a year. Charles has seen some of his friends in Monaco from afar and he has heard them when they're all gaming together. They sounds like fun and they are all very attractive too. Charles is starting to feel like he has a type, being from up north clearly does something for him.

"What is someone like you doing alone?" Someone asks with a thick german accent. He probably doesn't know The Charles Leclerc. He's blonde and has very light eyes, he's handsome for sure, the epitome of the German stereotype.

"I'm not, I'm with my friends," he shouts over the music pointing at his said friends on the dance floor with his cup.

"I meant a partner. Do you wanna dance? With me?"

"I don't want to," he smiles sweetly.

The guy looks surprised. Charles feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and takes the opportunity away. He doesn't even look at the caller Id.

"Max?"

"Charles! You picked up!"

"Yeah, you actually saved me from an uncomfortable situation."

"What, why? Someone's bothering you?" He's suddenly serious shushing someone on his side, probably a friend.

Charles rolls his eyes at the angry tone walking in a more quiet area "Many, I guess I'll have to stick closer to my friends."

"Just punch them in the face for me, darling."

"Sure. Why did you call? Are you having fun over there?"

"Oh yeah, it's awesome. The parties here are something different. Then I see all of these people dancing with someone and I think of you and I miss you. You should have been here, shatje.”

"I miss you too. I was thinking the same thing too, it fucking sucks."

"Yeah, I know. Tomorrow it's the last day though, when I come back I'm not fucking leaving you until you get sick of me."

"That's not long."

"Shut up."

"Anyway, have a good night, mon cour, don't drink too much. And don't look at anyone elses butt, thank you."

"I've got my eyes set on yours already, don't you worry. Have fun."

"Miss you, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay, miss you too, baby. Goodnight."

The day Max is back in Monaco Charles is waiting by his door with Spidey in his arms. Jimmy and Sassy were taken care of by a neighbor who's actually a good friend of Max as Vic was on a well deserved family trip. Charles couldn't watch them because he was all over Italy and then Monaco. He left Spidey again with Lorenzo who fell in love with him. Unfortunately he couldn't bring him with him everywhere he went, even though he really likes the boat very much. He's a strange kitty.

Max lifts the both of them up when he sees them in delight. Places a fat kiss on top of both of their heads when he puts Charles back on the floor.

"Did you burn yourself? Put some sunscreen next time, you stupid human," Max opens the door, the cats run up to him meowing. He picks them up too.

"Shut up! I did!" He follows Max inside and then pets the two bengalas. Sassy jumps directly into his arms purring loudly. She’s probably louder than the modern F1 cars.

"You probably jumped in the water right after like a moron."

He's right but Charles cannot admit that.

"So? How did it go?"

"Great! I really missed them but I missed you more," he hugs Charles again and then takes his face in his hands squishing his cheeks together "My little puppy, look at you," he smashes their lips together.

Charles hugs him tight. It has been two long weeks after they finally made up, having him back in his little bubble makes him feels incredibly warm again. He just fits in perfectly.

Charles can't stop looking at him, Seb was wrong, he can't help but think again, he's the one completely whipped.

"And you? I saw many photos of you everywhere," he kisses his forehead one time before letting him go to put down his backpack and suitcase.

"You know, I've attended many things, mainly birthdays and just other summer parties. It was all very relaxing. It's a shame I can't take you as a plus one everywhere, you'd look so pretty on my arm," says Charles with a sigh and a shit eating grin. Max huffs.

"I'll have to be friends with your friends so I'll be invited too then and they will know what a true good eye candy you are, problem solved," grins at him Max going in the kitchen.

"Yeah, good luck, they're loyal to me. They won't befriend the enemy," he follows suit standing behind him looking at the fridge. The empty fridge. It's pretty sad to be honest.

"I think we have to go out and buy something."

"I think so too, mate."

Max shoves him away playfully "Stop saying that, it gives me goosebumps."

"Let's go out, mon pote," he walks back to the leaving room picking up his hat and sunglasses: the ultimate disguise.

"I hope that means something sexy or cute."

"Like what? Shatje?"

Max blushes looking away, Charles smirks in victory placing a hand on top of his blonde hair and kissing his red cheek "Your pronunce sucks, you butchered it. How do you know? You can't even write it on google."

"Wow, you're compliments never stop to amaze me,” Charles complains with wide eyes, "Seb told me back in Switzerland. Now let's go, we've been dating for like several months and we still haven't been out on a date."

"We went around the world together, I saw your face everywhere I went too, a literal nightmare."

"Yeah, in hotel rooms and tracks. And you should be grateful it's my face you see, asshole."

Max doesn't move to follow him though.

"What? Come on," says Charles looking at him expectedly, tugging at his hand. "Got that sick of my beautiful face?"

Then Max just sighs, rolls his eyes but a faint smile is still on his lips. He then pulls Charles closer by his waist and kisses him softly and slowly "Just wait a bit," he tells him before resting his forehead on Charles' shoulder, inhaling his sweet scent.

"I really missed you too," Charles says placing a kiss on the exposed part of the neck he can reach and holds him tight.

They stay like that for a while before finally Max lifts his head up and kisses Charles filthy. For real, a complete three-sixty compared to the one before. Charles is completely caught off guard so it takes him a couple of seconds to respond just as passionate. It leaves him breathless and Max seems satisfied with his work judging by that stupid smirk back on his wet lips. It's like he recharged his battery.

Charles leads the other in a not too fancy restaurant where he knows they won't be messed up with and start rumors. It's nice, they haven't really had ever the chance to just sit and eat lunch together like this, without the anxiety of a race weekend to build that familiar tension. It makes everything more real and official, normal even. They joke around and argue (of course) about Max's taste in food (he's very picky and Charles is not) but it's so, so easy being around him. He feels so free and comfortable. And judging by Max’s carefree laughter and relaxed posture he is too.

"Do you want ice cream?"

"Sure," Charles almost took his hand but he refrains to. They are already risking too much by walking around Montecarlo like this. It’s sad, he acknowledges that, it’s something they have to learn to live with.

Then, Charles takes them on the coast, on a more secluded trail on the reef to watch the beautiful sea. Max's nose and cheeks are already turning red from the sun.

"We should take out my boat next time."

"You want to cook me under sun, if you're this red I fear for myself."

Charles scoffs finishing his cone "I'm not even red anymore," he lifts up his shirt "Look! I'm tanned"

"I'm looking."

"You pervert."

"I think I have to look in a better lighting to see if you're tanned or not."

"Like where?"

"My room?"

"You're so fucking bad at flirting."

They do actually end up in his room though, Charles can't believe he has become this easy. He’s ashamed of himself.

Max takes off his shirt humming in satisfaction at the abs revealed "Yep, fucking stunning," he pushes him back on top of the bed.

"Is it tanned, tho?" Asks the important question Charles pouting while placing his hands on the back of Max's neck. Max who is currently hungrily licking and kissing his chest and belly like a man starved.

"Like a cookie," he bites his waist making Charles giggle because he's ridiculous "I bet it looks even better if you wear something blue," he licks his navel"...or orange."

"Fuck you," Max chuckles at the offended tone, it will never get old "When are you ever going to quit trying?"

Max doesn't answer, not when he's satisfied with his exploration and having reduced Charles in a whiny mess, which is rare to achieve with him not staying submissive for more than three seconds. He will enjoy this vision for as long as possible. He too takes off his shirt feeling hot.

Charles looks up at all the pale skin and wider frame drooling, he immediately places his hands low on his abs, tracing the v-line with his finger "Fuck..." he whispers under his breath.

When he looks back in Max's blue eyes he's smirking "I should say that, it's a shame you can't look at yourself. Can I?" He asks pointing at his pants and making a mental note to maybe install a mirror in every wall of the penthouse and particularly on the ceiling. That would be fun.

Charles nods with enthusiasm "Please."

Max doesn't waste time taking them off with his boxers "I should place a mirror up there, so you can look," Charles blushes at the idea, Max takes more mental notes. He continues living bruising kisses down his belly until he reaches his steadily hardening cock. He gives it a couple of pumps with his hand, Charles is beginning to leak precum all over himself. He's sweaty and hot, he really wants Max to just get it over with his torture. It has definitely been too long since the last time they had sex.

"Max, please..." he whines wiggling his hips to hurry him up.

"I'm sorry Charles but I'm going to enjoy every second of you."

He says that like he doesn't do exactly that every single time they have sex, at least until Charles can't wait anymore and takes matters into his own hands.

"I'm not gonna last anymore, please Max," he tightens his grip on Max's hair which are almost bleached white from the sun. He looks so much hotter the blonder he gets, it's ridiculous.

Max kisses the tip of his dick making Charles twitch "Then I'm just gonna have to let you come twice," he licks up from the bottom of his balls and all the way to the top. Charles sees stars from how hard he's shutting his eyes.

After a couple of minutes of kissing and biting every inch of skin available, Max takes pity on him and takes him all in his hot mouth covering what he can't reach with one hand. He sucks hard and fast, hallowing his cheeks and using his fingers to play with his nipples. Charles comes in a matter of minutes with breathy moans and Max's name on his saliva slicked lips. Making Charles come with just the use of his fingers and mouth will always feel like a winning two championship in one go. Makes Max feel so proud of himself, so satisfied for some reason; more than when he himself comes.

Charles focuses on taking deep breaths while watching Max clean him off with his mouth before he decides to sit up and kiss him hard, tasting himself on Max's tongue.

"You're the fucking best," he whispers on his red lips before diving in one more time slurping what he can get. He is so eager, Charles will be the death of Max, for sure.

"My lion," he whispers sliding his teeth on the other throat, feeling Max's breath hitch.

"I'm not finished."

Max climbs up on the bed all the way before pulling Charles with him so that his feet are off the floor. He takes off his own pants giving Charles time to calm down and watch him; admire him. When Max is completely naked Charles is so ready to go again.

He settles in between his legs, bending them so that they’re flush against his chest and everything is exposed. Charles blushes and gulps pulling the other driver down towards him in a tight hug. That never happened before, thinks Max.

"What? What are you shy about?" Max looks and sounds confused.

Charles doesn't answer and hides in his neck holding him down by hugging his shoulders. Max's body completely covers him, that's something Charles didn't ever think could be fucking hot until now. New kink: unlocked.

"Let me go, I want to see you,” he places little kisses on his shoulder, the only place he can reach in this position "Come on, baby. Let me see how fucking beautiful you are."

Charles slowly releases his hold, Max doesn't waste time to kiss his face, his dimples, his nose and his throat leaving more bruises along the way.

When he's fully up he takes in the view, Charles can feel his hot gaze all over his body. He throws one arm over his face "Ah! Don't do any of that," he pulls it away placing it above his head "You better keep it there," he warns before leaning to the side to open the drawer beside the bed.

"If not then what?"

"Better not find out."

Max ignores the lighting fast fire that burn in Charles' eyes at the challenge, the sudden embarrassment already forgotten. It's better for his mental health and he has to quickly distract Charles before he regains his senses and starts fighting every action from now on. Or say stupid shit to rile Max up. Maybe both at the same time.

Max bends down again, this time in between his legs. He spreads his thighs gently, loving the way Charles bites his bottom lip when he leaves kisses all over the sensitive skin on the inside of them.

"Has anyone ever eaten you out?" He asks in between his cheeks.

Charles shakes his head, breathing hard and fast.

"I'm so sorry, a bottom that has never had his ass eaten? That's ridiculous. You should have told me before."

Then Max flips him over so that Charles is on his knees with his arms still held high and away from his face. Max doesn't waste a second before lunging with his hot tongue into his hole. Charles clearly didn't expect that "What the fuck," he says out of breath, moaning and wiggling at the strange sensation, arching his back in the process.

"Stay still," growls Max placing one strong hand on his waist to keep him in place while the other is spreading his ass cheeks apart.

Charles thinks he must be in heaven. He can't stop saying Max's name and sobbing in pleasure. His cock is already as hard as a rock.

When Max is satisfied he lifts up, mouth red and wet picking up the lube he left on the sheets. Charles can finally take in a full breath.

"Fuck, when did you learnt that," he turns his head to the side to look at him.

"Like it?" He grins kissing his temple “I’ll make you cum with just that next time, I promise.”

Charles’ entire body shudders at that specific prospect.

Max coats his fingers with the lube, warming it up "Can I?" He asks again.

"Yes, come on," urges him Charles lifting up his hips higher, too lost in chasing after pleasure to care about seeming desperate. Well, he is.

Max pushes his index finger in slowly, happy that his hard work helped loosen up the ring of muscles that instead feels like it's sucking him inside.

"More," whines Charles when he feels comfortable with Max moving around the first one.

After the second Max begins distracting him with his mouth and hand, whispering sweet things, kissing him and caressing his skin.

"Please Max."

"What?" He has three fingers in, working him nice and open for him.

"Fuck me, you dick."

"Well—"

"Max, please, I'm begging you."

"If you ask me so nicely I guess I don't have a choice," and he's honest, he’s not saying that just for the sake of dirty talk. Having Charles so compliant is very hard to achieve so he's gonna enjoy while he can and don't waste it. It would not be the first time they'd end up fighting in the middle of sex for that exact reason.

Max takes out his fingers, leaving Charles feeling empty, to open the condom that he picked with the lube before.

Charles can finally see how fucking hard the Dutchman is when Max places him on his back again, murmuring something about wanting to see him. His dick is an angry red and more than ready to go. How could have Max waited this long looking like that is insane, Charles kind of feels bad.

He puts the condom on, Charles spreads his legs further apart to give him more room. Max aligns his tip with his entrance still not pushing in.

"You sure you're ready?" Max is now panting with anticipation.

Lightening fast Charles pins him with a determined look "If you don't fuck me now I'll walk out that door and call Lew—"

He doesn't even finish the sentence that Max slams inside him. Charles head almost bumps against the headboard from the force of it. His eyes roll all the way back while Max picks up his pace hitting every time the same sweet spot. He knows him inside out by now.

"Oh putain, Max..." he moans whimpering "Can I touch you? Please let me touch you."

Max takes Charles arm still kept above his head "Such a good boy," and places them around his neck and shoulders leaving a trail of kisses on his forearms. Charles is so happy to have something to hold on to and use if he wants the other closer.

Max is grunting and breathing hard on top of him with every thrust, Charles rolls his hips to feel him more, tightening the ring of muscle wrapped around Max's cock and enjoys the grip that Max has on his hipbones turn painful.

"Zo mooi, zo verdomd mooi, shatje."

Max places one hand on his belly, right where he can see the shade of his dick moving inside of him, and pushes down a little "Oh, my god. Max, please," he doesn't even know what he wants anymore. He wishes this moment to last forever and at same time to be over so that he can finally come. He's pretty sure he's crying.

"Say my name, baby, come on. You're doing so good, so perfect for me."

And Charles doesn't think twice before obliging, he'll do anything to end his misery.

"Max, Max, please Max. Max, Max..."

He's sobbing at this point.

Charles locks his legs around the other waist really tight to push him more inside of him. When Max feels like he's nearly there he kisses Charles’ open mouth taking his leaking dick in his hand. A good push is all it takes and Charles comes with a scream, coating his own abs and chest in white.

Max follows right after, the feeling of Charles muscles spasming all around him pushing him over the edge.

"So fucking perfect for me," he mutters kissing Charles wet eyelashes, wiping away the tears gently. The Monegasque is out of breath, sweaty and covered in marks. It's honestly the best sight he has ever had the honor to witness. And it's right under him. He did that.

"You're so good," whispers back Charles leaving a peck on his lips before mewling in discomfort when Max pulls out.

Max gives him an apologetic look before tying the condom and getting up to throw it away. Charles is stretching like a cat on his bed when he comes back from the bathroom with a wet towel. He freezes on his spot by the door just to try and commit this image to memory of Charles on his bed with the sun setting outside. He's fucking glowing.

When Charles sees him he lifts up his arms at him "Come here, mon amour," he says with a raspy tired voice. Max climbs back on the bed, no question asked, before cleaning him as best as he can. Charles is already half asleep under the lulling touches.

Max lays back down, pulling him until Charles is on top of him. Charles immediately curls up on his chest, which is none other than his favorite spot to cuddle, hiding his face under his jaw and leaving sleepy kisses on the Dutchman’s neck “I really like you, Max," he slurs with a thick French accent.

Max heart is beating so hard and fast, he feels so content "I really like you too, Charles."

Their summer is pretty much spent like that, with lots and lots of sex whenever they had time to actually be around each other. It's fun, but it's also hard and frustrating. They have full schedules every day of the year, no matter the season. Charles especially, be it to film something, some special training or to catch up with his friends. He knows Max is taking the worst of it, he made it pretty clear he was upset. It's not fair, they hardly spend time together during the racing season, that’s why Max thought summer would be the perfect opportunity to explore their relationship more. Well, Max thought wrong unfortunately.

This is an argument they have all summer long and one they often resolve on a bed — or any surface really, the kitchen table taking the worst of it, the couch is a close second. Anyway, they don't exactly have a true actual fight about it, mainly Max is the one who has a not so nice comment about Charles or makes a rude remark about Charles being always away. Obviously it doesn't sit right with Charles so he usually doesn't say anything back because whatever might come out of his mouth sounds like he prefers them over Max and that's not exactly true. So, he stays silent until he feels guilty enough to make it up somehow.

Max knows it's not specifically Charles' fault, the guy can't deny anything to anyone. At least to the ones not called 'Max'. He's disappointed, sure, Charles knows that. Having your boyfriend socializing every single day with people you don't even know the name of and they don't even know you are at home waiting for him, without a call or a text, anything. It sucks.

Most of the times Charles doesn't even want to go out if it's Ferrari related. He looks miserable before and impossibly worse right after. Max is there - of course he's always there - begging him to not go; if not for Max's sake then for himself. Charles, of course, he doesn't listen. And the times Charles comes back to Max's apartment after those specific events, Max is there to pick up the broken pieces, no matter how pissed off he is about the argument they for sure had right before Charles walked out that same door he just came through.

One quiet night spent on the sofas on his terrace Max asked Charles to explain what happens every time to make him look so pityful and miserable. Max watched him closely while he thought about what to say; how to answer rather, like he was scared of Max's reaction. Max soon understood why.

"They just... They make me feel like an object to parade around," he settles on after minutes passed in silence, petting the black cat on his lap.

Max's brain shortcuts, literally "Like a prostitute?"

And Max says it in a exaggerated tone, almost laughing, expecting to be immediately denied. Imagine his surprise when that does not happen. His jaw clicks shut. Max completely understand Charles' hesitation and so he tries really, really hard to keep his cool and his head straight. This is not about him.

"That's a bit much but... Yeah," admits Charles pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, he looks so fucking young that Max does not know what to do. He feels lost. He does not know this version of Charles. He has never really encountered a vulnerable Charles, didn’t even know it existed.

"It's not that bad most of the times. It's just that I've been treated like this since... It has been too many years and I feel like I'm much more now, you know? I don't need to do that anymore, right?"

Max shakes his head in disapproval, leaning closer "You never had to."

Charles still does not look at him, not once he has done it since the start of this conversation, and picks at his fingertips, an habit Max hates "You don't know how it works. I don't regret doing it, it's because of it that I have my position settled in Ferrari. It's just..."

"What?"

"I'm grateful Seb was there at first or I don't think I'd be like this now. He helped me get out of the worst situations and I'm so sick and tired that it still happens now that I’m less susceptible. Nothing changed besides the fact that I'm all alone because everyone is in on it. It's not even because I can't handle it, I just feel sad that I've always been hopeful it would end."

Charles sounds even more unsure of what he says, like he does not know if he's telling exactly what he's thinking the way he wants, to try and make him understand. Honestly Max doesn't know how Charles manages to still defend his team, because that what he's doing. Max had known that whatever happened in all these events and dinners were not good and closer to harassment than just ugly comments thrown around.

This is not why he's angry with Charles, he doesn't blame him of course. It's the fact that he still goes when he has no obligation to. Vasseur, judging by what Max has seen and how Charles speaks highly of him, would never allow it. Charles could as well be his son so Charles has literally no one telling him he has to attend and make sponsors happy. That's what pisses Max off, Charles still has this fear that he has to be liked or else. That he doesn't deserve things to be handed to him just like that but has to earn them through teeth and blood.

“And what happens when I’m gone? Will they find someone else? I don’t… Max, no person, especially kids,, has to bear that treatment until they think it’s right like I do. If I think about it it makes me throw up. What if it happens with Ollie and I’m not there? I don’t even know if I have the strength to do what Seb did for me—“ Charles sniffs, takes a deep breath “I don’t know, I don’t want to think about it.”

“Has it got better since Fred joined?”

“Yes, but—“

“Then I guess you just have to wait. You’ll be there for a long time and see for yourself. And I’m sure that you would talk to Elkann or something, you wouldn’t stand there and do nothing.”

Charles clicks his tongue in frustration “You just don’t get it, Max—“ he’s instantly interrupted by Max, who lets out an ugly laugh.

“I don’t get it?”

“Max, I’m—“

“You think I don’t know how it feels like to feel terrified every second of the day for years? To be paralyzed on the spot in fear of something bad happening? To even take a breath hoping it won’t piss him off?”

“I know you do, I’m sorry.”

The other shakes his head, apologies are not needed “Charles, I don’t want to make this about myself or even diminish what you’re going through. Hell, you probably have it worse, I don’t fucking know,” because Charles won’t fucking talk. Honestly, at this point, Max doesn’t even know if he wants him to based on how he feels right now. Because he is seconds away from beating the shit out of anybody who’s related to Ferrari, who knows what he would do if he knew more?

“Max—“

“No,” shushes him Max “I want you to understand that I fucking get what you feel, I know how fucking horrible it is to experience that and I don’t wish it upon anybody. I do get it, Charles. That’s why I’m telling you that you would not stand there and do nothing if you saw something. I suggest you talk with someone who can actually stop that from ever happening again without you personally getting involved.”

“…That doesn’t sound like something you would say.”

Max scoffs “I would punch them on sight but I don’t think it’s necessarily the best thing to do nor should you do it. They would find a way to make you guilty, sometimes it’s better to let the big guys handle these things. If they do do something really bad then please, by all means, knock them out. I’m sure we’ll find a way to defend you.”

“Thanks. I almost got worried by all that diplomacy.”

"What about Sainz?" He asks. The man for sure would never let it all happen before him, no matter how much he could not like Charles. He has defended him well against Max so he would certainly do the same against some rich assoholes.

Charles laughs, Max's blood runs cold hearing that.

"He grew up in these things, his father is one of them. To Carlos it's all normal. It's one of the reasons why I hate him. I can't really blame him though, it's not his fault anyway. I never gave him a reason to worry about me nor would I want to."

Max is going to kill Carlos.

"You do realize how fucked up all you just said sounds, right? Because I'm this fucking close to losing it, Charles," mumbles through gritted teeth Max. He feels pure blinding rage.

How could he ever let his boyfriend - not even that - a person go to a place where they do not feel safe? Charles has to understand at least that.

Charles turns to look at him finally, the cat jumps down, probably feeling that it's going to blow up sooner than later. The green eyes analyze Max, every tight line on his forrowed face.

"I didn't tell you to make you pity me, Verstappen."

Max huffs an humorless laugh "I don't, I think you're pretty stupid. They are just using you."

Charles rolls his eyes sighing but other than that he doesn't say anything.

"So? Why did you tell me?"

"I don't know, you asked."

"You would have never answered if you didn't have a reason."

Charles looks away again and licks his lips once "I never told anyone. I guess now I'm less alone?"

They leave it that. The night turned heavy rather quickly and nobody slept, at all. Millions of thoughts running around. Max, personally had to make himself not leave his house to go punch whoever treated Charles like a pretty little thing to make money out of.

The heart-to-heart conversation does not stop the fights like one would have expected. If anything they become more cutting and painful. Especially those about Ferrari.

His close friends, the one who can know about their relationship, have heard all about his complains. However Max does appreciate it that Charles alway comes back to him. Even when he's so tired he can hardly keep himself upright on his feet, he makes the effort to kiss Max goodnight before collapsing on the bed still dressed.

They make many good memories too in between the little arguments and many disagreements. Learn how to act around the other on the quieter days, discover the little things like a normal couple.

One day Max is in his sim room, one live stream with his friends and other drivers in the world. Charles was having an important call when he wanted to tell him that he wouldn't be able to stay with him for a couple of hours. Max also forgot to send him a text to warn him. So, Charles opens the door without a single care in the world.

"Max-" he stops when he sees the light of the camera on.

Max quickly turns to him - luckily he's out of frame otherwise it would have been very bad - with surprised eyes.

"Fuck," whispers Charles freezing on the spot.

"Who was that?" They all laugh in his earphones.

"My sister," not his best choice.

"Let her come in! The fans wants to know her more!"

"She's very shy. I think she forgot I'd be streaming all day.” He sends his lover a glare. Charles glares back, it’s not his fault! He did not know!

“Ask her if she wants to play with us!”

“Yes, ask her!”

“Chat is requesting it now, Max. You have to.”

Max sighs hard, still in the middle of a race. He sends one look at Charles who’s now smirking “Do you want to play?” He asks.

Charles nods.

“She does not, guys. I don’t know what to tell you. I tried,” he shrugs at the camera.

Charles feels betrayed.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, I don’t either. Prove it, Max.”

Charles comes closer to hear better the people talking over the headphones.

“Are you afraid she’s better?”

“Guys, didn’t he say she raced before? She would definitely do at least one lap. Max is a liar.”

Max continues to throw warning glares at him.

“Guys, she doesn’t want to be on camera. And she’s not better than me.” He smiles at Charles, who’s still out of frame.

On the stream a pen comes flying at Max’s face. The chat explodes. His friends begin shouting and laughing at him.

Max crashes.

“Vick, I’ll kill you.” He says very slowly with his ears full of loud laughs.

Charles sticks out his tongue before coming dangerously close “Yes, laugh away ahahah. She’s gone now. Another race?”

As they set the game for the race, reading comments as they go, Charles sits down on the floor by his desk. Full smirk on display and a look in his eyes Max knows all too well. Max immediately mutes himself and covers the camera.

“Don’t you dare.”

“What?” Innocent Charles is back on board while one hand travels up Max’s thigh.

“You know what.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Max will strangle him one of these days.

“Don’t you have a game to play? Your friends are waiting,” finishes saying Charles.

Max grabs the hand that got too close to his crotch “No, Charles. I’m not joking, don’t.”

Charles pouts at him.

“Max—“ begins Charles with a whiny voice.

“Don’t,” insists Max.

The Monegasque intensifies the sad look with puppy eyes. Max shuts his tight with a sigh before he leans down do kiss him with loud ‘smack!’. Charles follows after his lips once he pulls away.

“Later,” he promises before putting his headphones back on and uncovering the camera. Not looking at Charles because if he does he will have to end the stream much, much earlier than expected.

Max starts the game soon after, with Charles still on the floor for a couple of minutes before he begins writing something on a post-it by his desk. He slides it closer so that Max can read it.

‘I want you to fuck me, please?’ It reads.

“Fuck!” Max crashes again.

Charles slips out of the room snickering and barely holding himself from laughing at loud.

Charles begged him later to fuck him senseless with his glasses on - that was the cause of Charles’ sudden horniness apparently. All in all, a fantastic night.

__

"Lando just texted me about this party tonight before the season resumes."

"Yep, he told me too, he's the Dj. I think he invited all of Monaco."

"He alway does that, you'll go?"

"Of course, I already made plans with Pierre and Joris. You?"

"I have to," scoffs Max, he already knows he won't be able to walk straight because of the alcohol. He can't say no.

"I'll see you there then?" Asks Charles opening the door to go back home. He has some documents to sign and he has to feed Spidey.

"Yep, wear blue!" He kisses him goodbye.

"I won't!" Smiles sweetly Charles before walking away giving him one last peck.

Max can say at least he tried.

Charles arrives to the party fashionably late, Pierre and him got held up messing around and Joris just watched exasperated playing with the cat.

He chose an all back outfit, or better, Pierre chose his outfit, Charles picked out only his bandana for the horror of his friend. He really didn't like it.

When they got in they all cheered like they were the top celebrities which they probably weren't just considering Max, the two world time champion, was there too.

"So good to see you!" Hugs him Daniel giving him a drink.

"Oh mate! It's been so long!" Charles is genuinely happy to see him again. They only texted a couple of times during the break.

"I know! Well, you're in great shape! Good company?" He bumps his shoulder against Charles'. He turns immediately red.

"What?" Charles looks away, avoiding the other eyes.

"Well, there's someone who loves to talk when he's upset, and I've heard both great things and bad things."

Charles is gonna get the parent talk, right?

"I'm doing my best, he knows that."

Daniel raises his hands, showing his palms "I'm just saying, my pal is an affectionate guy under all those spikes, yeah? Try not to stomp all over his ice cube of a heart, it breaks easily."

Charles nods, he understands. Daniel is the concerned friend, it's okay. He's doing his job. It's expected. Still it makes him feel so much worse to hear that Max got so upset he had to talk to someone.

They discussed all of this before. Charles told him, warned him almost, that he would be busy all year long; Max is too to a certain degree. It will be hard, Charles told him all of this before they even began this relationship for this exact reason! It sucks for him too, not just Max. He's not the only victim, that's what Charles is trying to make everyone against him try to understand.

He has duties to fulfill, a family he loves more then himself, friends he would die for. Max is there too, of course. He's a big chunk of his time that he's more than happy to dedicate to him. Charles will give all his strength to nurture what they have going on because it's so fragile and pure. But he won't be the person that neglects what he had going on in life before Max. It's not fair to the other people too.

Daniel lets him go with a kind smile, rubbing his back in a comforting manner before joining again his own group of friends.

Charles then is free to hug the other people he knows which is like, more then half the club. He's not even kidding.

He sees Lewis Hamilton on a table talking with a footballer, could be Neymar, he waves at him not wanting to disturb him. Lewis signs to him he'll catch up with him later. When he looks at the Dj station there's Lando having the time of his life, Max is behind him clearly not already very sober, with Nyck, Oscar Piastri and a group of girls. He sees Mick too more to the side though, chatting with George and their respective beautiful girlfriends.

When he and Lando make eye contact he calls him up on the station with his hand. Charles shrugs and goes up with Carlos hot on his heels.

They both hug tight the McLaren driver and dance, Charles is pretty curios about the console, it looks fun. Lando notices and explains the basics to him, Charles just follows the instructions and pushes some buttons enjoying remixing with the younger driver.

"Charles! Here you are," Max slips one easy hand around his waist, Charles turns to look at him, Lando happily lets him go with a knowing look. Max already looks like he had a crazy night just by looking at his sweaty wet hair. Still looks really hot, just like after a race. Honestly, Max after a race and sex looks the exact same, it's incredible. Now it's all Charles is gonna think about every damn weekend.

"Having fun?" Charles asks.

"A lot! You should drink these things the barman makes, they're really good!” he shouts in his ear "Maybe later!" He lifts up his still half full cup. Charles is not an heavy drinker, he likes to enjoy it slowly because after some time his body refuses to drink anymore so he has to go slow or he's gonna throw up. Max instead likes to begin always with a couple of vodka-RedBulls or gin tonic to start the night before switching to much stronger drinks. He gulps those down like water at this point.

It's so cliché but Charles actually doesn't really like the smell of RedBulls, he likes the drink alright, but the smell that lingers around... It's one of the many things Max and him still argue about to this day. Because Max— he's a tidy person to a certain extent, Charles doesn't mind too much about seeing a slightly messy room - it would be hypocrite of him - but the multiple cans littering around both their apartments is where he draws the line. The smell? Atrocious. It doesn't even have time to dissipate that Max opens one can after the other like an addict. And Charles didn't say anything at first, it’s not his house after all (even though Max leaves those cans in his apartment too). Threw them away when he saw that silver and blue can, took a swing of it if it was half full too and wasn't at a temperature where it tasted like piss.

After a while, when he kind of began to become nauseous because of this constant lingering smell he told Max to please, please, throw them away as soon as he finished them. Did he listen? No, said "Yes, yes I will" waving his hand at him dismissively and never did.

Couples of days later, with a deep sigh, Charles bought little trash cans and put them where Max mostly stayed. Never, ever used them; always found them empty. That's when Charles got mad. And from there, things escalated pretty quickly, one thing led to another and suddenly they weren't arguing about trash anymore. It wasn't pretty but neither was that the worst fight they had this summer.

They argue so much and the worst thing is that it come to them so easily...

The night continues between drinking, dancing and chatting. Max is always in his sight or is touching him in some way, be it a hand or a brush of the shoulder. It feels grounding to have a steady presence, even if he's drunk out of his mind. Charles is following him very quickly down the same road. The drinks keep piling up on the station and Max is very subtly guiding him away from being too close to whoever is interested in him. Which is fair, Charles doesn't like the attention on his boyfriend either. It's a shame they have to do it secretly.

When the song ‘Ferrari’ comes on Carlos and Charles are literally thrown on the center and being lift up like it was their anthem or something. Charles still doesn't understand but its fun, they are suddenly all Ferrari fans. It happens everytime this song comes on.

Then another sexy song is on and Pierre and Kika steal him from Max making Charles dance sinfully under the flaming gaze of the Dutchman. Obviously Daniel joins too on the other side and Charles smiles at the three of them "Look at those hips, Charles!" Cheers Daniel placing one gentle hand above his waist. Charles turns towards Max shrugging, the other just shakes his head watching the show happening in front of him amused.

Then obviously ‘33 Max Verstappen’ comes up at some point, Lando must be having fun. All hell breaks loose, a chorus begins. Everyone knows the song one way or another. Charles still refuses to sing it, Joris backs him up besides him, at least not out loud. Max is so drunk that he doesn't feel embarrassment and just screams at the top of his lungs, throwing his hands up in the air. Lando is laughing so hard watching from the top of the dance floor with his camera flashing every now and then. Daniel is too, jumping up and down and hyping Max up.

Once Charles goes up again on the station where it's all more calm again to regain his breath he sees yet another bucket of champagne and sparkles being sent on a table. It doesn't take much before it's spraying everywhere like confetti.

Charles joins Max on the dance floor when the ‘locked out of heaven’ chorus begins. Max pulls him close against his chest once he sees him.

"'Cause your sex takes me to paradise," sings Max, Charles laughs continuing "yeah, you're sex takes me to paradise,” they are all screaming at that point, but Max and Charles are just screaming looking into each other eyes, jumping and dancing against the other uncaring.

"Can't wait to take off those clothes, shatje," whispers Max in his ear making Charles grin.

It's the best night ever.

—

Two days before the first weekend after the summer break, Charles is added in a group chat. It just him, Daniel, Lando and Max. They both sent many photos each. They usually do that because they are good friends and like sharing good shots.

It's about the famous party. Some are about Charles looking good which are always welcomed, some are about just Max looking like snack, others are about that moment of Charles and Max screaming/singing looking really happy. They're both smiling or laughing in every one of them, it's like there's a light shining on the couple making them stand out from the crowd. They are beautiful photos honestly.

-looks like you both had a good time, just thought you might want them.

That's Lando.

-Yep, won't post them or anything ;).

And there's Daniel.

Charles blushes, they aren't incriminating photos or anything. They look like touchy drunk friends having fun, which they aren't though. So yeah, not to be made public.

He thanks them, Max does the same thing shortly after. It's all very awkward.

—

The very last day they get to spend together Max takes him out. They get in one of the Ferraris and drive directly to Nice.

(Charles insists everytime despite Max’s protests.

“Why can’t we take the Valkyrie out for a ride? Or, I don’t know, the Porsche? C’mon Charles, they’re really good cars!”

They are walking down in the garage.

“I don’t care, I want my car.”

“But it’s so fucking recognizable! Do you want to out us? Are you insane?!”

“Like the fucking Valkyrie is not recognizable! How many are there Max?”

“I have tinted windows,” points out Max.

“I don’t care.”

“Charles, I have all the windows tinted.”

Charles turns around to look at Max “We are not gonna fuck in the car, Max.”

“But—!”

“No, Max, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Can we at least take one of mines? You can choose which Ferrari.”

Charles rolls his eyes but nods.

Max whines and grumbles all the way, Charles rises the volume of the music.)

(They do end up fucking in the Valkyrie one time. Yes, it was a difficult mission. Worth it.)

Charles didn’t know anything about it. The day was spent lazing around on the bed like cats, both wanting to just think about the other for the full 24 hours before they don’t have the time to do so anymore. Taking advantage of the moment of peace and quiet.

But then Max suddenly got up from Charles’ embrace - which already was strange enough - and told him to dress nice. Max told Charles to dress nice. Charles honestly got concerned and he’s not even exaggerating. He began questioning his lover panicking the more Max refused to answer, he just told him they were going out to eat dinner.

And so here they were, parking in a very expensive looking restaurant right outside the city in their suits.

“You know it’s not my birthday yet, right?”

Max sighs really loudly before saying “Really? Fuck, let’s go back,” Max stretches his hand out for Charles to take.

“What are you doing?” Charles looks at it like it’s going to bite and then all around him, servers and valets are there. What the hell is Max thinking?

Max rolls his eyes and takes his hand forcefully, Charles is still really hesitant “It’s okay, baby, there’s just us and no one here will tell anything. Come on.”

Charles doesn’t feel reassured at all but follows him when Max tugs.

Max then turns to look at Charles’ face once they get inside and laughs: Charles looks completely disoriented.

“Charles, relax. Do you like it?”

Charles eyes settle on Max and glares, Max snorts “Do I like it?” he huffs “Max, it’s beautiful,” he looks around him taking all the glass chandeliers and pretty tables in “But what is happening? Did I miss something?”

“Nothing’s happening, I just wanted to have a nice dinner with you before the races began,” Max is suddenly in front of him, blocking the view of the restaurant “If you want to eat somewhere less fancy that’s okay, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Max sounds suddenly concerned, maybe it’s wasn’t such a good idea?

Charles shakes his head “No no, I’m just… surprised! You—“ Charles leans closer to not be heard by the staff who are patiently waiting for them “You hate these places!” He whispers.

Max full on laughs “You’re right! In fact, we are not eating here,” he turns back around “Where is our table?” He asks to one of the guys to the side.

“This way, sir.”

They follow him make way inside the place until they reach two big windows which reveal the rest of the enormous terrace ending with a balcony where there is only one tiny table prepared.

They sit down.

“So, what is it?”

“What?”

“What is it?” repeats Charles.

“What??”

“Do you have something to tell me? Did you do something bad? Are you retiring?”

“What?! Why would I think I’m retiring? I’m 25!”

“Almost 26, mon amour.”

“I’m not retiring, what the fuck?”

Charles hums, looks around, noticing a big blue artificial lake over the balcony “Seb did something similar when he told me.”

Seb actually took him to Lake Como. Charles cried like a baby.

They both turn to watch the breathtaking sunset happening over the sea further away, casting everything in a deep orange color.

“You always complain we never go out on real dates, so here you go.”

“Your idea of a date is eating a kebab on your couch—Can you take off these flowers? I can’t even see you properly.”

Max snickers and complies, putting the little vase of roses on the ground. It was right in the middle.

“Thank you.”

“Happy?”

“I’m very happy. Like, for real, Max. You didn’t have to do all of this. I just enjoy complaining.”

“I know that but I wanted to. You deserve it, we deserve something nice every now and then.”

And Max has learned that Charles is a sucker for romantic gestures, no matter the tough boy act he puts on. Even now, with his eyes glistening in the setting sun and looking at Max with utter fondness, he still keeps bickering with him and pushing his buttons. But Max is a sucker too and would love to spend the rest of his life on edge exactly like this.

“Did you really think I would retire? Are you insane? Do you want me to retire?”

“No! I just—“

“That wasn’t a very convincing ‘no’, Charles.”

“Max, don’t be stupid, please.”

And with that their dinner date officially begins, the first plates of food arrive shortly after, in the middle of their non-stop chattering. It’s genuinely one of the best dinners Charles had in a while and the company wasn’t that bad. He learns something new about Max everyday and that’s something he hopes never stops happening. Every little thing he discovers, wether good or bad, makes Charles realize just how much he wants Max with him. He wants to share his life with this man, he’s sure of that.

“—And Max she was so cute and fluffy!”

“I know Charles, you tell me everyday…”

“You just don’t get it, I have to get one—“

“You don’t have to do shit—“

“Max, you’d be such a good dog-daddy—“

“Don’t use that technique! It’s not gonna work.”

“But it’s true—Is that my song?” He asks suddenly, freezing mid sentence, tilting his head to the side like it will make him hear better.

Max frowns at him, eating his delicious dessert “Is it?”

Charles looks over the balcony, beams of colorful lights shoot up from the lake.

“What is happening?”

Max doesn’t reply, shrugging, watching him.

Then also jets of water begin to rise up in a beautiful fountain creating a spectacular play of water and lights, all following the rhythm of the music. His music.

Charles is speechless. Mouth hanging open in front of such a spectacle. He really can’t believe it.

“I feel like I’m going to cry,” he whispers once the last notes of his piano play “I don’t want to cry.”

Max takes his hand over the table “Don’t cry.”

“Did you do it?”

Charles turns to look at Max, finally. He really doesn’t want to cry.

“I mean, I didn’t actually play—“

“Stop being an asshole,” Charles hisses suddenly stern “Did you plan all of this?”

“Yes, I did. It’s my favorite.”

”I know it is,” Max made him play it an extreme amount of times. Charles sniffs “I really hate you so much, you know?”

Why can’t he just say it?
Why is it so hard?

“I really hate you too but don’t cry, no one will want you if you look ugly,” is Max’s reply adorned with full puppy eyes and caresses on his hand.

Charles sniffs again “I’m just looking at your disgusting face, I can’t help but feel bad for you.”

Max smiles.

Charles gets up, his chair screeching.

Max freezes on his spot “W-Where are you going?”

Charles doesn’t dignify him with an answer and just circles the table until he’s by Max. In Max’s humble opinion he looks like he’s going to punch him straight in the face.

The Monegasque’s hand shoots out in front of him - Max will admit that he flinches - grabbing the collar of Max’s only nice shirt before Charles dives for the sweetest and slowest kiss he can muster.

“Thank you.”

He releases his shirt and cradles Max’s jaw with his hands, bumping their noses gently together.

“You’re welcome,” whispers back Max.

“You’re so getting laid tonight.”

Max smirks “Am I?”

“Want to go swimming first? In the sea?”

Charles doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling him upright and taking his hand in his.

(“I’ll call him Leo!”

“We are not getting a dog, Charles!”

“Leo like you! My lion!”

“I don’t care! We are not getting a dog!”

“I am then.”

“Charles!”)

(They end up falling asleep on the beach).

Chapter Text

The first race is Max's homerace so the pressure is on. Max flew back much earlier than Charles so he sees him only when he's back in the paddock already suited up and ready to jump back in the car.

Charles can't imagine how happy he must be to be pulled around everywhere, for interviews, videos or to meet the many, many fans.

Usually it was Charles who was dragged everywhere he went by fans, drowned and tugged by people asking for a photo or an autograph. Charles never complained, he understand their enthusiasm and their love for him. He likes giving back how he can so he will never refuse them. Max— well… He did not even like when all of this happened to Charles who was by his side. One moment they were talking about their plans once back in Monaco, the other Max was talking by himself while Charles was swarmed by fans and pushed away from him. Or worse, the fans crowded him too and at that point he was obliged to make them happy.

It’s not like he did not like having fans, it’s not that. He appreciated them, always has. He will stop for an autograph or a photo, no problem about it. The only request he has is manners. There are many way of asking for favors and invading his personal space forcefully is not one of them. For sure.

However, racing at home, with the orange army cheering for him night and day is the exception. He just can’t avoid it really. And the team requires him to be more…open.

On Saturday Charles takes the pole, his car is back again after that degradation problem they had. It's good to know it has been taken care of so quickly.

They do take a penalty for having a brand new engine. But so do the RedBulls.

The lights are out, Charles gains quickly positions back with Max hot on his heels. He is always in his rearview mirrors, it's really scary. But so exciting too.

By the end of the race they're battling wheel to wheel on track. It's like a deadly dance that George Russel in his Mercedes watches directly from behind, probably hoping to get a chance and pass them both. It doesn't happen.

But then Max is in, has the better exit and widens the gap. Charles can't do much if not pushing on the throttle but there aren't enough laps anymore and Max takes the first step of the podium under a sea of orange and fireworks.

"What are you thoughts about the race?"

"It was a very good race, it's a shame I didn't manage to keep the lead 'till the end. I did my best and the team did too."

"Verstappen almost received a penalty for forcing you off track, do you think it should have been given?"

Charles chuckles “What do you want me to say? I mean, I wish they did. But I think it was fair racing this time. I would have done the same thing, I'm glad it didn't end up like last time."

"What do you think about that, Max?"

"I agree with what he said. I saw the gap and went for it, if he ended up with the wheels off track then that's not really my problem. I'm only thinking about my race."

When they all exit the conference Charles is the first one to speak "Mate, you really know how to sound like an asshole every damn time."

"Mate, it's like it’s almost my job," Max says not even sparing him one look, just continues looking down at his phone. Charles then notices that the other lockscreen is one of the wide shots Lando did of them from high up. He's so sweet.

Charles snorts shoving him away towards the wall nonetheless, calling him names. Max does the same and after that the clothes start to disappear.

__

Monza is...Monza. An hard fast race full of hope. Again, he loves the support from the tifosi and he really wants to win for all of them. Take it home and rise another flag in Maranello.

Like Seb promised, him and Kimi actually come to the race. He finds them both in the Ferrari motor home catching up with their old team.

"Seb! Kimi! You came for real!" He hugs them surprised. The others engulf him in their embrace.

"Of course," says Seb, Kimi ruffles his hair like he always does.

"Let's take a walk around the paddock," he throws an arm around his shoulders and leads him away. Kimi follows after them quietly, stopping only to chit chat with whoever he knows.

"What is it? I'm kinda late for—" begins Charles but he's quickly shushed by the other.

They walk, ignoring the cameras and fans excited to see the duo back together, towards the RedBull garage.

"You know I can't go in there, right? I'll get in trouble," Charles plants his feet on the ground.

"I'm your free pass," Seb pulls him along.

Charles is still confused as to why he would ever want to go there with him before an important race like this one. In Italy. He sends awkward smiles at the cameras around them.

The crew smile at Seb, he's obviously always welcomed literally everywhere, and then they see Charles. Their face pretty much describes how Charles feels right now. Completely lost.

He actually never came in the garage like this, never had the opportunity to really see what's going on during a race. They pass by some strange frames on the walls, Charles frowns at them.

"There he is!" Shouts Seb pointing.

Charles follows and spots Max focused in a talk with a mechanic "Oh, god."

Max's eyes widens, he actually looks really scared "Seb, don't. Let's go, please. Kimi?" Pleads Charles.

Vettel uses all of his strength to make him walk until they are in front of the RedBull driver.

Charles should have though about this! Of course Seb would pull something awkward like this, he was dying to meet both Max and Charles now that they are actually together! Wonder why!

"Hello, Seb. How are you? Hi Kimi. It's nice seeing you both in the paddock again," Max's ears are a flaming red and his eyes are asking for help.

"Such a nice gentleman," comments Sebastian putting a hand right on his heart looking at Kimi who agrees.

Charles facepalms trying, and failing, to hide. Kimi looks like he's enjoying himself way too much and crosses his arms to look scarier. The crew around them is still very confused but tries to ignore and give them space.

"Anyway, I'm fine. Wanted to see Charles race."

Max leans on a table, misses it and plays it casual "That's—Good?"

Charles starts laughing hysterically in his hand "Leave him alone, Seb."

"No, I just wanted to say that if he makes you crash again like that I'm making sure he can't enter a car again, right Kimi?"

"Yep."

"Are we clear? You can race all you want, push the other around, I don't care. You hurt him and you're dead. No corpse to be found."

"Oh my god,” whispers Charles’, he really can’t believe what he is witnessing right now.

"Understood?" repeats Seb raising his eyebrow. He looks really scary honestly, Charles is just too embarrassed to do anything.

"Loud and clear," mutters Max, his eyes shifting between Seb and Kimi.

"Not just on track, we're clear about that too, right?" Asks Kimi.

Max gulps. Charles is so sorry.

"Clear."

"Good! Have a good race, then! You did great in Zandvoort!" Seb’s smiling again like he didn’t just threatened a fellow driver, patting his shoulder in appreciation.

"Thanks."

"One more thing though. Kimi, can you take Charles for a walk?" He asks "No French people allowed."

"I'm Monegasque!" Shouts Charles offended. Seb waves him off. Max doesn't know wether he should laugh or not.

Charles looks right at him and then at Kimi with unmasked betrayal when he pulls him away from the other two. Kimi strength is underrated.

Once they are far away enough Seb wrap his arm tightly around Max's shoulders making them turn toward a more secluded spot near the wall. He sends him a sharp smile. Max is scared.

"You do know this sport is eating him alive, right?"

"Who?"

"Toto Wolff. Who do you think I'm talking about?"

"Charles is fine, he's learning and he's gonna be a champion soon."

"I know he is, he will beat you up and leave you hanging to dry. What I'm saying is, this sport, Ferrari, is ruining him from the inside out. You still don't know that boy like you think you do. The things he endured in—" he cuts himself off, shakes his head "His heart—how do I say this—it's bleeding everywhere. That's what Ferrari does. He dedicates his soul to everything he puts his mind to. He will make himself sick. I've seen it happen to him before and it was just the beginning."

"I know, that's why I try—I know I suck, I saw him—But he can do it, he's strong."

"Yes, of course. I just don't want you to slash him open and make him bleed out, do you get me? That boy is special, he's made for this and everyone takes advantage of him. Like I said, he will be eaten alive and he won't do anything about it, he knows that. His team fucking knows that very well too."

And Max can imagine what he's referring to from what Charles has told him.

"I'll be there for him, I fucking hate that team. No offense."

Seb brushes him off with an easy smile.

"Great! He's so fucking stupid sometimes, try to go past his stubbornness, please. And make sure he eats too, he's a stupid little shit at times. Please Max."

"I'll do anything."

Seb gives him a small smile "Just a little tip I learned during my time. There was this story going around the Ferrari team when Charles first joined, maybe you already know it," Max doesn't think he knows anything happening in Ferrari, but he doesn't say anything "Well, apparently, he once stopped talking to his karting instructor when he lied to him and changed his set-up without consulting him. For a really long time too. The Ferrari team was scared shitless because everyone inside this paddock knows Charles and his mischief. So Max, don't lie to that boy, ever. He hates it, trust me."

Max barely has time to nod before the other two are back. He's familiar with Charles' silent treatment punishment, looks like Seb is not aware of how many times the both of them actually argue. Which is strange considering Max thought him and Charles talked about literally everything. To who Charles goes to when he’s upset then?

"I'm sorry, he threatened me," they turn back around at the sound of Kimi voice.

"He gave you his puppy's eyes, right?" It's not even a question, more like a statement, a fact.

Kimi doesn't answer "You little motherfucker," says Seb to Charles letting go of Max "Anyway, you're little shatje here will make you eat his dust though, so watch out Verstappen."

Max turns a bright shade of red, Charles does too hiding behind his hands.

"Oh my god, Seb, let's go, please," he doesn't even look at Max and just pulls the German away.

“Seb?” Max suddenly say making him turn “Thank you, for back then. I don’t know much but—Thank you,” Max looks really determined.

“Of course,” smiles at him Seb, guiding a complaining Charles away from the garage. "That was so fun, I dreamed of doing that for quite some time."

"You really didn't have to do that, that was so fucking embarrassing. What did you say to him?"

"You know what's more funny actually? That pretty much all the RedBull staff knows a bit of Dutch or German," he laughs hard, Kimi does too.

Charles feels so bad "You're never allowed to come again, that was the worst thing in my life."

Seb rolls his eyes at him dramatically.

“Why was he thanking you?”

“It’s none of your concern, little one. Now go kick some ass. You’ve got a good man by your side.”

Anyway, Charles wins the gran prix by a mile. Best feeling ever.

"So, we are all curious about what happened behind the scenes earlier this day, we saw you, Seb, Max and Kimi discussing something. There were many expressions on your faces, could you tell us something about that?"

Charles laughs recalling the scene, Max on his side still looks awkward as hell "It was just some silly joke that Seb wanted to share. Nothing unusual.”

Max coughs "It was a scary joke, don't lie."

"Now I'm curious too," comments Lewis, curious about what happened that he did not know about.

"Mate, really, it was stupid and embarrassing. You don't want to know."

Max shakes his head confirming what Charles just said.

"Okay, I'll just ask him."

"Oh god, please no" Max laughs at Charles’ face.

"Now we are all really curious," keeps on pushing the press.

"It's better that way, it was awful."

"Seb and Kimi looked pretty serious though."

"They did."

More snickering.

"Then?"

"I can't tell you."

Charles is giggling away on his seat. When they all stand up and leave he breaks down "Max, I didn't even had the chance to tell you how sorry I am about Seb and Kimi," he's still laughing by the way.

"I knew it would have happened at some point, stop laughing!"

"But, your face! Oh my god."

"Try being stared down like that by both Vettel and Raikkonen. I actually believe what they said."

"I mean, you should not gonna lie. Anyway, I'm sorry about you race. I'll see you tonight?"

"I think I'm just gonna go back to Monaco," he sounds sad and disappointed, completely understandable with the weekend he just had, especially from the previous win.

"Okay, I get it. Have a safe flight back and relax old man," Charles looks around making sure they are alone and then takes his hand in his, stroking his knuckles.

Max rolls his eyes "Thanks, I'll try. Have fun, you deserve it. You looked beautiful on that podium. Text me once you're back at the hotel safe and sound," he leaves the quickest peck on his forehead before they break apart.

This man… god.
__

After Max saw Charles standing outside his apartment, waiting for him that one time, he gave him the copy of his keys. It felt so much more than just a convenience to Charles, made him feel important. Made them so real for some reason. Especially knowing how reserved Max is about his space. So to give Charles practically free range of his house? It’s huge news! That’s why when he comes back from Italy he goes straight to Max’s apartment using his keys.

"You look sixteen again, why?" welcomes him Max with a frown not even standing up from the sofa. Romance is dead. Never existed.

"Missed you too," he leaves his things on the floor before sitting beside him.

"Did you shave?" He takes his cheeks in his hands "A baby."

"How are you?"

"I'm gaming my frustration away, you?"

"Pretty good," he smiles making Max roll his eyes and scoff. Yeah, his race was absolute shit.

"Something always happens in Italy this year. I just want to get to Abu Dhabi and take that title," he groans throwing his head back on the couch.

"Mon chérie, I'm gonna take that way before Abu Dhabi."

That was a lie, it doesn't happen.

Let’s go in order.

Singapore is...well. Carlos and Charles’ relationship outside of work things? Pretty good he would say, they get along fine. In the circus world? Not that great. Carlos is fun, a great friend to have at times, helped him when he needed it but when he's the one that is not at the center of the attention of a project he becomes unbearable. Carlos always has been good at keeping work and life separated, Charles not so much. They had their fair share of fights already last year, Binotto's favoritism was so obvious it was ridiculous considering Charles was the one actually fighting for the championship. Singapore it's all familiar, like going back in time. Charles has been under steering way too much for his liking but Carlos was loving it, glowing with confidence. He spent hours on the sim back in Maranello setting the car like this after all. So the perfect weekend he has doesn't come unexpected.

And those, along many other reasons, are why Charles had to make Sainz go away from the team. Carlos found out about it recently. Maybe he took revenge.

Carlos takes pole and it's a matter of time before they ask Charles to back him up the day after. To defend, to keep the others at bay whilst the RedBulls are so slow. He has to make Carlos win, that's what they are pleading him to do. Using pretty words, of course. Like saying he has to help the team win, to secure the first place in the constructor championship with an easy one-two.

Charles can't hide his disappointment to Fred who looks like has his hands tied. So, not his fault then.

The Mercedes' radio comments the following day are right on the target: they are sacrificing Leclerc. They are asking him to give up. And Charles, what can he do? Even if he doesn't agree the team will do whatever they think is right for them, give him the strategy to help Carlos and he can't drive without listening to team orders. He's stuck.

The many awful comments made by the Sainz family and Carlos own ones are bubbling inside him, just waiting to burst out. He gets what type of driver Carlos is and maybe he's almost jealous of him. Carlos doesn't care about Ferrari, it's history and pride, he only care about its name next to his own name. Which is, well, understandable. Carlos doesn't have the same values Charles has, probably will never, he cares about himself. Much like Max was at the beginning of his career. Max didn't care about RedBull, or about bringing the team back. Now? Charles is sure Max loves that fucking team to his core and will never, ever admit it to anyone’s face. That might be why he wants Charles there with him, to have all the things he cares about under one big umbrella.

Anyway, Charles lowers his head - it's painful - nods and gets out of the meeting room after the qualifying.

Once Max sees him he can feel the bad mood Charles is in just by approaching him "Everything's okay?" He asks immediately, concerned about his lover.

Charles gives him a small smile "Team stuff," behind him Carlos exits the Ferrari facility, not sparing a glance at them but a small smile daring to stretch his lips.

"He looks happy with himself," comments Max after some time, falling in step with his partner.

"I bet."

Silence, he can hear Max's gears turning in his head if he focuses enough. If only he had the strength left to do so.

"Are they gonna sacrifice you, for him? Again?" That hurts to hear.

"I can't tell you that."

"Charles please, listen to me for once in your fucking life!"

Charles doesn't and walks away. Carlos wins alongside his best friend. Not one word was spared for Charles, not a thank you, a pat on his shoulder seems enough. It isn't, it really, really isn't.

He also doesn't want more to be honest, doesn't need anymore shame.

He DNFs in Suzuka, Max has engine problems in Quatar and retires, it all builds up until they race in Austin, which is fucking crazy unexpectedly and they take each other out of track a bunch of times, barely managing to keep the wheels on the car still attached. Then the FIA disqualifies Charles and Lewis just to add the sprinkles on top. The only positive note to come out of that is that it strengthened the bond between Lewis and Charles. That really wasn't a fun weekend, luckily Max and him managed to keep the real fight behind closed doors (if the motorhomes counts) like Carlos suggested. They shouted really mean things, Charles emotions were thru the roof, shoved the other around and if some angry tears fell then it was no one business but theirs.

(“Can I kiss you?” mumbles Max.

They are currently in Charles’ hotel room, both out of breath from a shouting match.

“No, you fucking can’t, Max!”

“Why?” And Max suddenly looks like a kicked puppy, big blue eyes watching a furious Charles in front of him “Why, love? Please, I need you.”

Charles is starting to think Max needs a psychiatrist to check out if he’s bipolar. Is he hearing himself? Does he have a short-memory problem?

“Max, get the fuck out,” snaps Charles, patience reaching its absolute limit “Kiss you? How can you even ask that, mon dieu, tu as sûrement des couilles…” he mutters.

“Baby, it was stupi—“

“Don’t you dare ‘baby’ me!” Charles slams his hands on the table in between them.

Max rolls his eyes at the outburst, not flinching “Charles, come on, let’s just sleep it off,” he begs reaching for Charles’ hand who slaps it off.

“You threw a plate at me. And a spoon.”

“I’m sorry for that, I shouldn’t have but you did too—“

“And you drove on top of my car.”

“I did not drive on top of your car,” Max sounds exasperated, like he’s explaining for the eleventh time the same thing and Charles still didn’t get it. Well, Charles is pretty sure he saw a blue car on top of him so you can’t really blame him “Can we stop having this argument? I think we’ve discussed it enough. Shatje , please, just… Stop looking at me like that, can we just admit we were both wrong?”

“I got disqualified and you got mad at me three times since then, giving me the cold shoulder to then yell at me. This better not be about Lewis because I swear to fucking god—“

“It’s not about Hamilton! Fucking stop that! I’m mad about the way you behave on track like you’re the only one on it! The worst thing is everyone fucking believes you and your shitty lies like you are Jesus on Earth—“

“You are unbelievable.”

Charles proceeded to kick him out, literally. Max resumes to take out his anger outside by punching and kicking whatever he came in contact with.)

(Max didn’t try again. Continuing to trashtalk Charles in interviews just like the other did with him.)

They are so good at making the other lose all patience, don't really care and have zero regrets afterwards which honestly hurts the most. They glare and have razor sharp tongues during interviews. They can be cruel to the person they care about the most.

They arrive in Brazil with what can't even be called a relationship anymore really, a hate relationship is the best way to describe it. Both tried to meet the other in the middle in Mexico, but it was all too heated after what happened with Checo that Charles got out of there the second he could. He didn't want to risk encountering crazy fans and on top of that he was followed by guards every second of his time there. After all, talking with Max, in the minutes they had free, meant just starting the argument all over again until one or the other stormed off slamming the door.

Max, to his credit, was the first to come to his place once back in Monaco. Charles refused to look at him until Max quite literally forced him to, grabbing his face and all "Why are you acting like this again? Why? Charles, come on. Don't do this to me, baby," he's close to whining and Charles almost makes fun of him, he's too angry to even do that “Please Charles, I just want you back, I’m sorry. I miss you so fucking much.”

Charles slaps away the hands around him, tears already gathering in his eyes at hearing Max literally begging. He won’t let him get away with that, he can’t.

"Why? First you take me out of the race for like the third time which okay, fine, I can't do anything about that. It's racing, I guess. But then you fucking insult me on live tv and ignore me like I didn't exist anymore on top of that!” Charles' voice rise with every word, his hands gesturing sharply in frustration. “I had the worst weekends back to back and you have the balls to come here and ask me that? Fucking hell, Max!"

Max's jaw tightens, his fists clenching at his sides. “You're right, I shouldn't have ignored you but that incident wasn't completely my fault so don't put all the blame on me. I'm fucking tired of that. Everytime a crash happens it's my fucking fault, I'm sick of it."

Charles huffs “This is not only about the crash, Max! What you did after was worse! I'm mad about that!"

Max's brow furrows as he takes a step closer, his voice rising to match the other “But you did the exact same thing! You're a fucking hypocrite."

Charles' hands fly up in exasperation "Of course! What did you want me to do, to just take it? Yeah, right. You are always going on and on about me running away and not standing up for myself but once I do you get angry at me even more. Isn't that right?” His voice shake with emotion “You always want to be at the fucking top but you don't want me besides you at all! You are a fucking liar,” he spits, his finger digging harder into Max’s chest.

Max swats Charles' hand away, his face hardening “It's not right at all, Charles. You said shit about me, you brought things that were buried a long time ago. That's not standing up for yourself, that's being a fucking bitch,” he says harshly, his words like ice. He leans in closer, glaring “If you have a problem you come to me and face me directly or were you scared?"

Charles let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head “Yeah, sure. Funny you say that actually because I tried and you fucking shoved me away, remember that? And what did you say after? Hm?” His voice drips with venom as he steps forward, forcing Max back “That I bought my seat in Ferrari? That I'm just a pretty face on the grid? Or was it that I had to stick to karting a couple more years? No wait, maybe it was then that you talked about my brother underserved career?" Charles scoffs pushing him away "If you thought you'd came here and we would just kiss and make up, you're fucking wrong, Max. Get out."

Max's expression twists with hurt for a split second before his icy mask returns "I did say that,” he admits coldly, his voice low “but aren't you forgetting something? That's not the complete story, Charles.”

He scoffs and begins listing things on his fingers "You said I shouldn't be allowed to drive, that RedBull is the only team willing to have me, the shit about the FIA too.” He steps closer, his eyes blazing with fury as his voice rise “Then finished it off saying that I'm just like my father."

Max's voice cracks slightly as he leans in, his face inches from Charles "Do you really think that? Do you, Charles?" He prods, challenging. His eyes search Charles’ face for an answer he probably will not like.

Charles gulps down "Well, look at you now, you're only proving me right," he kind of regrets it the moment it gets out of his mouth and kind of not. He knows Max is far from being like Jos Verstappen, so so far, but he's also red in the face, eyes scalding hot on him and mouth pulled tight, all with of this while cornering him. He watched this same picture on track when little many times.

Charles knows he's not like him, he knows alright, but if he glances down he sees the tight fists at his sides trembling with unreleased rage, chest rising with quick breaths, daring Charles to say the right thing and make him snap. Charles knows Max can and will hurt him if given the right opportunity. He saw this same stance on Jos, on Max, hell on himself too - he's no saint. He's not scared though, he also knows what he got himself into. And the last thing he knows for sure is that if Max lays a hand on him, harder than the usual shove, well... he will drown deep in regret and that's distinguishes him from his father and also is his weakness. Something that Charles is now using at his advantage.

Max looks hurt, his jaw clenches. Charles can hear his teeth grinding.

"This is nothing. You don't know the last of it, what you saw then was the tip of the iceberg. Still, you were there when we were young, how could you say that in front of everyone? I was ready to forgive you for the shits you said out of anger because I do get it, hell! I probably deserve them too. But I care about you and it's clear you don't care about me at all," he takes a deep breath. Charles suddenly feels really sick "Have you ever put me first, hm? Do you think about me ever, or is your head full of only racing and Ferrari, Ferrari and only Ferrari? Do I even come close to them? Are we even on the same scale?"

Charles suddenly doesn't think they are arguing about the same thing. He feels his body tingling with dread.

Max scoffs and continues, his fists relaxed which momentarily surprises Charles "I'm beginning to think that the only reason we fight so much, the reason you fucking always had all this hate for me and only me, is because I represent everything against Ferrari. So tell me, Charles. Do I even matter to you?"

Charles tries to talk but Max immediately interrupts him "No, let me tell you some more while we are at it," and maybe Max, a part of Max, is yelling at him to shut up, to not add fuel to their fire. But Charles cut the last string that was holding his sanity together.

So, he doesn't listen and keeps on talking "Because you don't realize how fake sometimes you are. You have this fucking holy image about you that everybody loves for some reason and I get it, I really do,” he chuckles like he’s tired of it “But Charles, you have never put me in the same category as your friends and family. You are just so fucking nice to everyone and nothing more and I hate that you are like that with me too sometimes. I loathe it. I fell for the glimpses of you I saw during our fights, not whatever character you built for me too. That's why I always try to push you to be real with me and you react by saying the cruelest things possible,” he scoffs like he can’t even believe it.

“Maybe I am just jealous or something but I think I deserve seeing more than just flashes of the real you and not just fucking pr bullshit. At least I can say I put you in the center of my universe but can you say the same about me?"

Max is out of breath.

Charles feels the first tear striking his cheek. Doesn't even know where to begin. Nothing makes sense in his mind.

Max is looking at him, his eyes begging him to say something, anything, such a contrast to mere seconds before when he looked furious. And Charles doesn't know what to say.

Part of him wants to fight, wants to be harsh and mean, scream at him that it is not true, that Max doesn't know him enough to say all that, that Charles is sure Max would choose is career over Charles, that he would rather pick his right posterior tyre over him and that he's lying to him again. At the beginning of all this mess Max promised him, fucking promised him, that it would not end up to be like this. They would be fine he said, they would get over whatever happened, he would be happy for him no matter what, would not get too angry at him... he lied, he fucking lied to him.

Charles should have know, he was too naïve to agree. Because right now Charles wants to shout back at his face, no matter how pityful Max looks. Charles doesn't want to appear weak, fought all his life to not be like that, doesn't want Max to win. Max doesn't have the right to act like he knows everything about Charles because he fucking doesn't. Doesn't have a clue about what has been going on all these years while he was lifting trophy after trophy, not sparing a glance at Charles. Doesn't know the things he had to endure to appear as strong as he does now, as confident. Max could never understand.

He's moments away from telling him how much of an asshole he has been all this time, no matter what Max is telling himself, how much Max hasn't really been there for him like Charles hoped and desired. He has always acknowledged Max’s resolve to make Charles as happy as possible, always praised his attempts even when he didn't succeed, Charles appreciated it all the same. The little flowers he sometimes found stuck in Spidey's collar, the piano he bought just to hear him play in his home, the sticky notes he found on his computer when he fell asleep...

And Charles tried too all summer to be there whenever he could, even in the middle of the night, when he was dead tired from meetings or sponsor parties. Sometimes he brought Max’s favorite breakfast with him and a pack of RedBulls bought with his own money — Max said they tasted extra good. He composed a song just for Max to hear, learnt to cook his favorite dishes from his home country (he asked Sophie) and left tulips on his bed whenever Charles had to leave early. And Max always seemed to forget it the next day and just reminded him of how he felt left out.

So, of course Charles was tired of hearing how much his lover was not satisfied enough all day long and so he just... stopped trying. It didn't matter either way to Max because he began locking himself in his sim room for hours on end just to get back at him. Spent entire nights live streaming, leaving Charles alone on the bed, who missed him and texted him for hours begging him to come back. Max never did so Charles began going back to his own apartment.

Just like Jos Verstappen used to do with Max when he didn't want to see him: he locked himself in the motorhome leaving Max outside to sleep. That’s exactly what Max was doing with Charles.

So Charles has so much shit to say back and he's so scared when he realizes how much he wants to hurt the other man. Makes him turn ice cold at how easy he can put his love aside and feel this absolute fury, this venom inside himself.

During all this caos in his head, the other part takes over at last...

"Max, I do care so fucking much about you but what about me, then?” He whimpers “You yelled, pushed me and thrown fucking things at me every time I approached you! I always try and you push me away every damn time! I can't do anything more that you shove me away. You can't say I put you aside, I'm not fake to you either, it's not fair you say these things. It's not, Max-"

Max interrupts him "That's your fucking excuse for saying all that? Because I wanted to be left alone and you couldn't accept it? Are you even hearing yourself right now??"

That flips a switch in Charles and not a good one "If you want to be left alone then fucking say so! You know? Don't shove me around, you dick! What do you think I am? A doll to play around behind garages and throw away when you feel like it? I hope I'm not that fake in your eyes! How do you think I feel every damn time you do that shit?"

"Don't twist things like tha—"

Life is such a bastard sometimes because in that exact moment, on sky news still going on the background, the reporter comes up with some 'breaking news' in that monotonous voice that quickly makes Charles' stomach begin to churn on itself and sink "Charles Leclerc, Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari, spotted once again with old flame and first love Giada Gianni after the fiasco that was the race in Brazil. Could it be the start of a not-so-new relationship for the Ferrari driver? Let's see the meetings we gathered during this year," incriminating photos of them flashing on the screen.

The silence is heavy in the house. While the Leclerc’s luck strikes again.

Max turn to look at him with eyes pooling with hurt and betrayal and takes a step away from him "No, Max listen to me," his voice is barely audible and cracking after all the shouting. The urge to fight lifts off of him all at once leaving him suddenly light and clawing at Max to not leave him. Begging Max to do something, anything because Charles can't breath anymore, his lungs don't work and Max— Max is slipping away, MaxMaxMaxMax...

"I don't wanna hear it," he's just standing there frozen in place.

"Max, believe me, don't fucking listen to sky of all things, please."

Max gulps looking away, closes his fists tight at his side again before coming to the conclusion he had enough and goes home leaving a crying Charles all alone. He just runs away before he would do something he would regret. Could be the first time in his life he ran away that quickly.

Chapter Text

It doesn't take much for Charles to go back to him. He can't let things end like that, he cares more than Max could ever imagine. What they had built was bigger than a simple relationship that lasted a couple of months, Charles felt like he lost a part of his family. He’s unfortunately too familiar with that particular feeling and if he can prevent it from actually happening he will try whatever he can to bring him back next to Charles.

After all his mum, whenever he was upset, always used to tell him this Italian saying “Solo alla morte non c’è rimedio, Charles.” which meant that only for death there in no remedy. Charles is aware that not everything in this world can be fixed, maybe Max and Charles belong to that part and cannot be. Charles doesn’t know and will never know unless he tries.

Yes, what Max said and how he acted was awful and will not be forgotten, Charles is not stupid. However, he also did say horrible shit back which he really did not mean. For that reason he is willing to call it even, mostly because the mere thought of Max ignoring him forever leaves him with his heart slashes open. He can’t live like this, not without Max in it.

He managed to give Max time (Seb obliged him to leave Max alone, threatened him more or less) for one full week before he decided he had to go to his place. He just couldn't stay at home crying all day as if Max would magically come back through that door and everything would be fine again. He will take action this time.

His phone was full to the brim with notifications, their friends asking what was going on this time. Pierre was tired of hearing Charles throwing fits but always offered his shoulder to lean on, Lando and Daniel both called him asking what he did. Like it was his fault. He hung up on them not wanting to hear what they had to say. He knew they were just being concerned friends but he really did not have energy. It's already hard enough being this emotionally drained and still have things to do every damn hour of the day for Charles to care about them too.

But fate is a little bitch or Charles is just unlucky as always. Because while he is scrolling on twitter just as he decided to pay a visit, letting the algorithm choose for him whatever is relevant enough to read, of course a video is trending. And of course that video is of Max Verstappen.

The gossip f1
@circusgoss1 : GUUYYYYYSSSS MAX HAS FINALLY FOUND SOMEONE! Anon says they had been sending looks all night! (source also said they all left together almost right after) [video]

The video is simple really. There's Max, in all of his glory, sober - because he recognizes easily a tipsy Max - on a white couch inside one of the clubs in Monaco, probably Jimmy’z. Charles knew about this party, Max wanted him to come because Martin Garrix, a close friend of his, was a special guest and he wanted to introduce them. Max was really looking forward to this. So yeah, that's not the problem.

The problem is the girl, who is Kelly Piquet - daughter of former Formula 1 champion Nelson Piquet - with her legs over Max's lap and faces very close together. Like two children sharing secrets. And what's more, other than then incriminating pose, is that Kelly has made it clear too many years ago she found a young Max attractive and there were rumors circulating about them, everyone in the circus knows this. They had a brief fling apparently which no one actually knows how much lasted. And everyone that matters knows Max wouldn't have done this if he didn't think Charles would see it. Max - sober Max - is not stupid enough to make himself look like this out in the open. He is not one to create gossip unnecessarily, especially around this topic and his private life. He has made it very clear with Charles because he know how much he loves to share his.

So, Max wanted Charles to see him go with another girl.

He wanted Charles to suffer.

And well, he got what he wanted because Charles has never, ever, felt so numb. Not since Jules' death probably. Like he's alone all over again.

He suddenly scrambles away from his bed, runs toward the living room and grabs the tv remote. Max would never, right? Fiddles with it, fingers trembling trying to turn on the damn tv on and go to the right channel. He manages to do that under many whispered profanities and taking too much time than necessary.

He lowers down on the couch and waits, barely breathing, scared of making loud noises like it would scare the tv away.

Max would never... right?

It doesn't take long really, at least it doesn't feel like it. Whatever program was on the channel finishes leading to the usual advertisements: BMW, Gillette, Beta and then there it is. Charles immediately recognizes it without ever seen it before. He read about it though.

It all happened at the very beginning of the infamous summer. Max came home - his own home which quickly became theirs - scoffing and more tired than usual, not even greeting the cats that came running to him. Charles, concerned, asked him what was wrong. Max answered without hesitating, always eager to complain and vent; Charles always ready to listen. Apparently RedBull was pestering Max about an advertisement they wanted him to do. He had to do at least one once a year, that's what was written in his contract.

Charles didn't get it at first. He knows Max hates with passion those kind of things but it couldn't be that bad, he's sure he has done more embarrassing things before a camera. Max clicked his tongue in frustration and took out his phone, scrolled through his emails until he found the script, before passing it to Charles saying "You're not going to like it.”

And Max was right to say that.

If there was one thing that was always misunderstood between them was who was more jealous of the two. At first sight, judging by looks alone, it was pretty easy to say that 99% of people would guess scary looking Mad Max and they would be pretty much right. Max was quick to glare at whoever would look at Charles a second more than necessary, would take any given opportunity to establish that Charles was his, often found himself steering Charles away from too much attention. Which Max soon found out was literally impossible. Max was possessive, he acknowledged it. And it was hard for him because Charles was more than loved, he was showered with praises and people who wanted him. Ready to adore him and give themselves to him and his pretty eyes.

Don’t get him wrong, Max felt infinitely proud of that, he loved - under layers of fake annoyance of course - the praises drowning Charles because he deserved them and they also made him feel good because: ‘Yes, look at my beautiful boyfriend, all mine’ was pretty much what he thought of. However Max also felt constantly tense whenever he was in public with Charles. It really, visibly, stresses him out. The crowding, the hands reaching, the voices screaming at him… It’s not something he likes to be a part of and he worried like crazy thinking someone might actually hurt Charles by taking it too far. So yes, it made him grumpy and more scary looking in short.

He felt immense pride but boys and girls trying their luck with Charles was not something he looked up to everytime they would go out and so he acted accordingly.

Charles found it extremely funny.

Well, Charles was a damn hypocrite.

If Max was bad, Charles was even worse. Their competitiveness found its place in this topic too. Charles wasn't one to express himself with obvious actions, he would never throw an arm around Max out of jealousy, would not look threatening to someone who was flirting with Max. No, Charles was petty, cunning with words and gentle with his touches. ‘Kill them with kindness’ could be his motto. He makes the other person feel like absolute shit with pretty words and charming smiles. Would calculate his revenge precisely, making sure that whoever was subjected to this torment would never, ever think Max was available. Charles was subtle, compared to Max, but just as effective if not more.

And what's funny is that he has never admitted it. The first time Max had the opportunity to witness this show being put on Charles never seemed being aware of what he was doing. When Max asked why he said those things, why he was so mean to a stranger, he answered he got bad vibes and laughed about it.

The last time it happened was in Zandvoort probably. Max was chatting with a woman he knew in the paddock, near the hospitalities, when Charles stumbled upon them.

Charles knows his man. He would have not stopped in the middle of his walk back from a meeting to another just because he saw his Max. They're not that attached to the hip nor lovey-dovey. They both stay outside of each other business during racing weekends, most of the times they don't even meet eyes if not strictly necessary. They are professionals and their jobs are not to be interfered with. What happens behind doors only god should know.

Anyways.

Charles would have not stopped, risking to get literally mobbed, if Max wasn't talking - looking rather happy and at ease, he would say - with a woman who was: first of all not part of the RedBull team (she did not have team kit on) or his family (Charles recognizes them). He looked around and not even a camera could be found suggesting he was actually not coerced to do this surprisingly. Instead they were completely alone, tucked away from sight, discreet and in the quieter part of the paddock..

"Max!" It fell out of his lips before he could stop it.

Max turned around at the sound of his voice, directing his smile at Charles but still with a questioning look painted in his face because, 'what the fuck are you doing?' Must have been what Max was thinking.

Like already said, Charles knows his man. He was not jealous of the girl. Charles has Max wrapped around the pinkie toe of his left foot, could make him beg on his knees with a snap of his fingers. Charles is not worried about Max, no matter how tough he acts, how scary he looks, they both know Max could cum easily just from the sight of Charles’ naked shoulder. So.

Having said that, it doesn't mean Charles likes anyone looking at his boyfriend with eyes looking for sex and lips stretched in a confident smile. Max is his to look at and admire. He will not stand that exact look on her - admittedly beautiful and fierce - face. She’s full on flirting with him and she looks too sure about having Max caught under her spell.

Charles walks over to them, Rayban's on his nose, covered in Rosso Corsa from head to toe.

"Charles, this is Julia, a friend from school. Julia this is... Charles," awkward Max will always be his favorite version. They really have to iron out the introduction thing, it always ended up like this.

Julia smiled sharply and wide, stretching out her hand for Charles to take "Nice to meet you."

Her accent was so much more heavier than Max's.

Charles didn’t take the hand.

Julia and Max looked at each other, speaking without words.

Charles quickly came to the conclusion they had some kind of history. He knows his boy-toy, okay?

"Never heard about you, are you two close?"

She lowered her hand and continued smiling unperturbed, her natural white blonde hair blowing with the slight breeze "We were! Guess he would not talk about his close friends with the little boy he hated all his life!"

She laughed. Max hid a smile looking to the side.

Charles didn’t take the bait.

"Max! You talked about me with your girlfriends? Was I that much on you mind? I didn't know!"

"A terrorist," mumbled Max.

"Right, I always knew how to cheer you up though, toch Max?" she winked and elbowed him playfully.

"Julia..." Max warned, he looked both scared and ready to laugh at the same time.

"Really?" Charles acted surprised, "You should tell me more!"

The girl was pretty bold.

"Charles, c'mon."

"Now that you two are friends I guess I can tell you that we were just talking about getting back in touch. I ride motorcycles but we can make it work, no?" She turned to look at Max.

Charles turned too.

"And what did you say? That's a great idea, she seems sweet, Max, just like you said you wanted your future girl to be!" And Charles sounded excited too!

Max stared at him, glared even “I said that I have no interest in dating at the moment. And actually, I remember also saying that I like them fucking stupid and psychotic, don't you?" sarcasm coating every word, staring right back at Charles to make a point.

Charles played dumb “So, blonde?"

"Charles!" Splutters out Max.

"You're blonde too! No offense, Julia, I'm sure you're smarter than him."

"None taken," she hissed through gritted teeth and a shark-like smile.

"Do you want to take a look around the Ferrari team? We have blonde guys with a short temper too, if you like. Maybe you want to switch to Spaniards? Italians? Monegasque? My brothers are unavailable but me on the other hand—"

"Charles, don't we have the driver's briefing? Like, right about now?" Max grabbed his arm tightly to pull him away but Charles planted his feet right on the ground.

"I'm sure I have some time for her, I think she would feel really welcomed in our great and friendly environme—"

"I really would rather to stay with Max—"

“Aw, do you?”

"I think they are calling us Charles, I'm sorry Julia but we'll talk later,” he managed to drag him away.

Charles, determined, continues to talk over his shoulder “You'll be too busy groveling behind my car, Max, and then you'll come to my room to complain. Don't make promises you can't keep to your lovers. I thought you grew up better than this!”

"Shut the fuck up."

Julia was then awarded with a Ferrari membership, so every month a stupid, very broken (and unsellable), gadget was sent to her door. For some reason it was non-negotiable and impossible to stop.

Max now learnt to expect whatever Charles might plan whenever someone tried to flirt with him. If he saw that glint in Charles’ eyes he took a big breath and enjoyed watching Charles make a puppet out of innocent people.

It is safe to say that they are both very possessive men, and not just with their partners. Must come hand in hand with the competitive character, their own insecurities or both combined in a terrible cocktail. Neither ever complained though.

Charles watches the screen with empty eyes. It's a short film type of ad, a genre becoming more and more used nowadays. The story is simple, a love story between Max - the fighting champion in Formula 1 - and Kelly who drives in a minor category. They meet in the paddock between races, there are quick shots of the cars, of the driving, of them throwing glances at each other, the first time they talk, first time they hold hands.

Charles watches expecting an ending he already knows. Max takes a big gulp out of the RedBull can, Kelly running up to him, he has probably won a race or something. The camera is closing in and finally they meet in the middle. The last shot is of them about to kiss, a breath between their lips before the screen turns black. "RedBull gives you wings" it says.

Charles feels the now familiar tear running down his cheek, the wetness sticky, his eyes have been stinging for days now. He takes a shallow breath, his chest barely moving, his lips tighten trying his hardest to not cry.

When Charles had read this same script at first he had laughed. The whole ad was funny because it was supposed to be about two important people in Motorsport and Kelly was simply not. Max had agreed with him, there are many women deserving of this title and Kelly had already too much influence only because of her last name. Charles is pretty sure she has never actually driven in her entire life, it wasn't right for the female community.

Then there was the personal reason why Charles didn't like this ad. Kelly liked Max, a lot. He's sure she said yes the exact moment she heard his name, probably thought she finally had the opportunity of a lifetime.

Max didn't know what to do, tired of saying no because in primis he didn't want to do this types of scenes for a tv ad, he felt used and embarrassed. But they were begging him for months now and would not let it go.

Charles felt conflicted. Not because he feared Max would fall in love or something, he didn't feel disgusted about Max kissing her either, that wasn't the point. He simply didn't want this image of them kissing to become real. It was hard enough to imagine it, having to see it in 4K sounds like a nightmare. And he would see it eventually, they both knew it.

And Kelly. Kelly would latch on this thing for years, using it as an excuse to finally have something in common with Max. Would do everything in her power to make this ad perfect and as long as possible. Post it everywhere on social media, promote them, maybe write something about the possibilities of them being together and then the rumors that would start...

Max, watching his inner turmoil spared him saying "I won't do it if you don't want to". Charles finally looked up at him and with pleading eyes nodded whispering "please".

Max didn't waste time to send a message to the company, telling them he wouldn't do it and to change the script.

Max apparently lied. Again.

Charles watches the screen, already with another program playing, feeling empty, a shell of a person.

In the ad they don't kiss, at least they don't show it. Charles is sure they did, he knows how these things work, he's not stupid. They probably kissed multiple times and from different angles to pick and choose the perfect one to use.

But Charles quickly realizes it's not the ad that makes him so disappointed, so sad and hurt. Because he knew and knows how Max felt about it, heard him whine about it. It's the video in the club. That one is not scripted, made for Charles to feel like shit.

And Charles felt impossibly worse.

So, in Brazil, everything is confusing around Charles. Like there's fog everywhere he walks to. The only thing offering comfort is the race and things related to it. It's the only distraction keeping him sane.

Pierre and Seb are the only people he has talked to about everything that happened. Everyone knows about the video of course, the ad, who wouldn't, it's a scandal about the world champion. But they are the only ones who has heard Charles' side and no more will.

Charles doesn't know Max enough to say if he actually cheated and went home with that woman. He doesn't know how far Max's anger, frustration and pettiness goes to. It's all uncharted territory. What's he is sure about is that Max wanted to hurt him and that's enough for Charles. And if he did actually cheat just to get back at him, well, then he's just digging the knife further in his chest.

Charles doesn't look at anyone that isn't wearing red, doesn't even deserve them of a greeting unless strictly necessary. Of course Pierre is excluded, and of course everyone is whispering about him, wondering what's wrong.

The driver in him is in full swing though, his only focus is getting the car on track and drive. He passed the moment of grief for what he has lost, got over the feeling of blaming himself rather quickly which is shocking, skipped revenge because he won't step that low - unlike someone - and there's nothing to avenge anyway. The relationship ended the moment Max thought it was right to do what he did without even listening to what Charles had to say. He hoped Max respected Charles enough but apparently it wasn’t the case, at all.

He'll just stay in this moment of feeling all the possible emotions he could ever feel and let them just cancel the other out. For now it's okay, if he can use the situation to focus then everything is perfect. Peachy even.

Charles doesn't look at anyone but he does see. The RedBull team is as tight as a violin string, like they have a ticketing bomb following them. Gone are the laughs, the pranks and the dancing in the garages. Their eyes have a hue of fright and their posture straighter then ever. Then there are Daniel and Lando who look pretty fucking guilty. Charles can't bear them even though it's not their fault. They look like they have tape around their mouth and their hands tied behind their backs. Both don't dare to approach him, for that Charles is glad. The others are just confused and try to ignore.

And then Max, of course, he is here too. He seems to not want to look at Charles either, mouth tight, eyes set straight ahead and back tense. He looks cold and unapproachable which might be his intent, who knows. Charles honestly doesn't care anymore.

Well, he can pretend to, at least.

"I know I shouldn't tell you this before the race but you have to talk to him sooner of later."

"Not a chance."

Daniel clicks his tongue "Max, you acted like a child,” he scolds.

Max continues to stare straight ahead "I don't care, he cheated on me all this time. No wonder this summer was hell, I was right."

"That's not an excuse, you better know that."

Max still doesn't look at him.

At that Daniel scoffs. He really does not get it. The duo has had their fair share of fights, he knows that perfectly. They have this magic power of going from being the couple you are jealous of to hating each other’s guts in a snap. Just like that. He’s well aware of that. Still, this fight? It looks very, very serious “And are you sure he did? Charles?" He says his name like that's enough "Mate, come on. The boy stayed under the pits of hell and didn't leave, you know that."

"Mate, you better fucking leave me alone before I explode."

Well, Daniel haven't seen that look since Max was a teenager inside a F1 car. He's really concerned, no one wants Max to build walls all around himself again, not after all the work his team and friends had done to reach this calm peace. Seeing Max happy, carefree, ready to jump in the car with zero resentment or extra weight on his shoulders was the best thing they ever achieved. Seeing it all reversed is not fair.

Brazil is...well, Brazil.

Charles, like already said, was ready. Ready to just drive and drive, listen to the car and take at least the podium he deserves after what he did in qualifying.

And here he was, inside his car, more then ready, a light sweat already covers his skin, he squeezes the steering wheel, eyes set on the lights ready to go out for the formation lap. He listens to his engineer’s instructions on how to heat up the wheels to perfection and then it happens.

In turn six, the power goes off and he can't steer anymore, he goes straight. The engine turns off, his rear wheels blocks and that's how he spins right into the wall.

He feels like crying, he probably already is.

"Why the fuck am I so unlucky?" His voice breaking over the radio, can't help himself.

He tries to do everything to get the car on track, tries to ask the stewards to please let him race, that the car is okay, he can race, he's fine he insist. They obviously don't let him.

(“Max, Charles talked about luck when his car broke down, what is your opinion on that? Do you believe in it? Is it something you drivers think has a role?”

“There’s no luck here, everyone gets what they deserve.”)

After that it's just a blur of saying things to the cameras for Charles. Once he's back in his room he just screams until his throat hurts. He cries too. He looks pathetic.

He can't even begin to describe what he feels like. It's like the world is just throwing everything at him and enjoys watching him get back up. He bet it's laughing at him too.

He feels so heavy and so tired. Of everything. Everything that has happened to him this year and the ones before. He just feel all the sadness, stress, anger and utter disappointment all crashing down on him in this moment.

He knows Andrea is right behind his door, probably asking himself whatever could he do to cheer up Charles. He knows Pierre is wishing he could get out of the car, and his friends back at home are worried sick about him. He's sure he didn't look too good on those interviews.

And his family, his little brother Arthur must be begging to be let in the garage to see him alongside Lorenzo.

Charles can't bother. He's a shitty person, yes. He hopes Arthur realizes he isn't a role model to follow or they will be both end up getting therapy pretty soon. He doesn't wish this feeling of absolute nothingness to nobody. Not one.

He doesn't know how much time he stays inside, cooped up on this excuse of a bed inside his driver room. At one point he just can't think, he's tired of even doing that.

He heard a lot of voices outside his door, lots of knocks, both soft and angry ones. Then he doesn't hear them anymore and falls asleep.

"Charles!"

"Charles open this fucking door!"

Someone's screaming. Charles turns around under the blanket he managed to put on when he came in.

"Charles I swear to god I will break it down!"

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, sees complete darkness because of the blanket.

"Charles! Please! Open this fucking door!"

That's Max. Max Verstappen. A furious Max Verstappen by the sound of his voice.

Charles finally rises up from his cocoon, sees that outside must be sun rise or dawn judging by the orange light coming from the little cracked window.

He really doesn't want to talk to Max.

He hears shuffling around outside. Then, something slam against the door. Or better, someone.

He does it again. It's very loud. Charles sees the thin door ready to break down.

Charles is at his feet in a millisecond "Attendez! Wait! Ma—"  he barely has the time to reach for the door that it's on the floor. A handful of centimeters away from his feet "What, what the fuck! What did you do, you imbécile!"

Charles looks at Max, eyes wide not believing what just happened.

And Max is, well...he doesn't know what he expected, but Max looks less than happy to see him for someone who just barreled into a door to do just that.

"That's what you fucking get for not coming out in almost two days!" He yells, madness all around him like a cloud.

Charles is surprised at the revelation "What? What are you saying??" Charles’ hand goes up to his face and hair "I just fell asleep after the race…"

Max scoffs "Yeah, you slept for a full day, you fucker, everyone was worried sick for you. Andrea slept outside your door!"

Charles is more confused than he was before "Why would he? What is happening," he sighs "And why are you here? I don't want to see you."

"Why is it so hard for your little pea brain that people worry about you? The ones who care about you don't listen when you tell them you are fine, do you realize that?"

Charles closes his eyes, tries to get focused on what is actually happening "What are you trying to say? What does it have to do with this? Are you here just to spit in my face how fake I am again?"

Max takes a calming deep breath, looks up to the ceiling like he's asking for help, before switching back to Charles. He doesn't seem calm at all, so that didn't work "I'm telling you this because it's clear you have no idea about the impact you have on people. You just don't get it and it's becoming a real problem. Paddock has been pandemonium."

"Listen, I really don't have the strength to be yelled at and insulted at the moment. I'll ask nicely: get out. We're done, remember?"

Max scoffs "Believe me, I remember. Andrea and all your little group came to me worried sick about you that's why I'm telling you should do something about this bad habit of yours. It's hurting people, all year long."

Charles tsks "What do you know? If my friends have a problem they can come to me, certainly not you," and he rolls his eyes too, just to show how annoyed he is.

Max charges in front of him, so lightening fast that Charles stumbles back surprised and kind of scared "Are you stupid? Tell me Leclerc, are you actually stupid? Dumb?"

Oh, so they are back to last names. Cool.

Charles quickly regains his composure "Get. Out," he hisses at him right in his face.

Max laughs, not one filled with humor "So you are stupid!"

Charles hates the way he can’t stand Max’s mean tone anymore. In the past he would have been proud of it, it would have made it fun. Now… now he just wants his Max back.

"I'll punch you, Verstappen."

"No, tell me,” he ignores him waving his threat away “Why did you think we have fought this much over the year? Because I don't think we are on the same page here," he scoffs.

"Max... After what you did to me you have no right to bully into saying things right now."

Max shrugs “Alright, I'll tell you then. I worried about you and you pushed me away every damn single time! I told you how to get better and you shouted at me just to get worse right after. Do you understand now?” And Max is nearly shouting, sounding hysterical because Charles does not seem to get it “That's how almost every fight happened between us! I had to watch you,” he points at him “the person I love, disintegrate himself right in front of me!”

Charles wants him dead honestly. His brain is not even listening to the words out of Max’s mouth.

He slowly shakes his head “No, don't you fucking dare saying it's my fault.” Charles grits out “You might have been 'worried' but how you showed it matters too! Of course I got mad if you told me everything I've been fighting for, every sacrifice I've done, was meaningless, what did you expect?!" He pushes him away, can't even bear to look at him "Get out and leave me alone."

"Charles, I'm not talking about races—!”

"Charles! Oh mio Dio!" Andrea sprints inside, hugging Charles tightly while still trying to regain his breath "Ero così preoccupato! Charles, madonna mia non farlo mai più per favore. Mi dispiace se ho dovuto chiamare Max ma ormai non sapevo più che pesci pigliare." .

Charles hugs him back tightly "Sto bene, dormito più del dovuto mi sa."

Andrea finally lets him go, gives him an once over "Sei ancora in tuta, Charles abbiamo un volo tra poco! Ti prego cambiati e per favore chiama Seb che era tanto in pensiero."

Charles huffs rolling his eyes "Va bene, ora mi sbrigo," and looks down, he still does have his driving suit on. Doesn't smell great.

"Porto via?" He asks indicating Max behind him who's looking really uncomfortable.

"Ti prego,” he pleads even though it hurts at the same time.

Andrea nods "Sono felice tu stia bene, non ti preoccupare di niente,"then he turns around "Come on you, your job is done. Someone was looking for you."

"But we—"

"Don't care. Out."

Max sends Charles one last hard look “You can’t escape forever, Charles. I’m not letting you go like this.”

“Out!” repeats now Andrea angrily.

Max doesn't look convinced, trying to lock eyes with Charles who instead turns his back to him. He really can't watch him, his wounds still too fresh.

__

The days pass rather quickly. Charles feels really lost and it's fucking strange. He doesn't want to see his friends like he usually does, doesn't want to go have fun and distract himself. Doesn't want to see his family either because they probably wouldn't understand and he doesn't want to worry them. Playing his piano hurts, too many flashbacks of the two of them together in it, going to the gym is not nearly enough to make him forget everything he feels and everything he doesn't.

And he's upset and angry on top of everything. With himself. Because his stupid brain is not even that sad about what Max did anymore, he just wants him back. He needs him. He feels like addicted to a drug. That makes him more angry than ever. How dare he have this much power over him? When did he let him? Why?

And when he's angry, especially at Max, he always wants the other to be too. It's unfair to be the only one, no? At least he has to try. If he sinks he'll make sure to drag the other down with him.

Or at least, that's the mature conclusion he comes to one night.

Determined he takes a glass of good old liquid courage, nothing to make him crazy or anything, just to pump himself up. Then he takes his keys and goes to Max's apartment.

Once he arrives and rings the doorbell he doesn't even know if Max is at home and he really doesn't want to use his own keys, that would be too rude, even for him.

He really shouldn’t have come here, what is wrong with him…

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Max doesn't even open the door all the way and Charles hates the way Sassy slips through anyway to greet him, meowing so loudly too. That pierces right through his heart.

"Just wanted you to know I didn't cheat and make you feel bad, just in case you weren't. Giada's boyfriend proposed to her and she wanted me to know and help her organize," he blurts out throwing at his face an envelope with the invite to the wedding. The one they were both invited to.

And seeing Max's eyes widen over the deep blue bags under them, even if ever so slightly realizing he fucked up, it's enough to make Charles feel better.

"Why did you never told me you were meeting her behind my back?"

Charles huffs looking up “I wasn't meeting her behind your back, I just didn't tell you her name because, I don't know, I didn't want to make you even more paranoid or something,” he mumbles “Things weren't great that summer. Anyways, just came to tell you that, hope you are proud of yourself," Charles finishes holding the keys of Max's place for him to take up to his chest.

Max doesn't take them. Opens the door some more, the apartment looks absolutely trashed behind him like the owner. Strangely no RedBull can in sight.

"I didn't cheat either."

Charles shrugs "I don't care, I knew you probably didn't. It's the fact that you wanted me to suffer over something you weren't exactly sure about that really hurts me. You really did a fucking number on me Max and I don't think I deserved that. With her of all people.”

"I'm sorry," he whispers, the door opens even more.

Charles scoffs "You are not," and it hurts Charles just to say that. Fuck, he feels his throat close up, he has to get out of here.

"Right,” he finally admits nodding “I am now. I acted on impulse after that fight, I didn't premeditate to use her to hurt you. She was really tipsy and easy. Was there at the right time. I just took her home with my friends after. She was saying crazy shit."

"Did you really mean all you said to me?" And that's a tear.

He notices how Max stares at it sliding his cheek for a moment before his eyes soften, like he’s about to cry himself.

"I don’t know. You just don't get what it feels like to be rejected over and over again after all you ever wanted to do was to help. You compared me to an abuser, Charles."

Charles sniffles but doesn't interrupt.

"I saw you not eat for days after a bad weekend, saw you just stare at a wall or play the piano for hours on end until you didn't have the strength anymore. Do you know what Seb said to me in Monza? Did he ever tell you?" Asks Max.

Charles shakes his head distractedly, still frozen about the fact that Max noticed when Charles was at his lowest. He thought he hid it pretty well.

"Well, he told me to take care of you, in simple words and less threats,” he chuckles “Because he knows how you get and you don't even know how it feels to be a spectator of everything. I wanted to help you, keep my promise, and you didn't let me,” and there is a crack on his voice.

The knot in Charles’ throats tightens.

"I just thought you were mad at me for being so fucking weak sometimes," his voice breaks.

"Charles, Christ-" Max takes a deep breath, doesn't dare look at Charles’ eyes that are ready to burst into tears, and goes inside the apartment, gesturing Charles to do the same.

Charles does but doesn't move far from the door, keeping his eyes focused on the ramping horse he left there on the table rather then on Max.

Max paces in front of him, he can hear the rapid steps on the wooden floor "I was mad, okay? Not at you!” he quickly adds “I didn't know how to help and the only way I know is spur someone and I got frustrated easily when of course it did not work. I should have took a step back to think about something else to help. Instead I insisted and I'm sorry about that. I really thought I was helping though,” he admits sincerely.

Charles can understand his thought process. They are both unable to express their feelings apparently, at least not in the right way. They are still too set in their old ways of not showing any sign of weakness or comfort to the other. Still… it hurts all the same.

Charles rubs his eyes, drying the tears as well as he can "You made me feel really shitty, Max, and really angry and sad. You treated me like a rag doll when I wanted to resolve things before they exploded. Why did you that? If you had so much experience in me pushing you away, why would you do the same?"

Max gulps down "I clearly have a problem in accepting help and I thought you were different than me, hoped so at least. I don't trust myself around you when I'm pissed Charles. I really don't."

"Why?"

Max feels his heart hammering in his chest, can't find the right words and having Charles looking like a train ran him over is a nightmare becoming true. He gulps down the panic once more.

"I think that no matter how much I could ever love you part of me will hate you, just for what you were in my life for so long. It's part of my system. And when I'm angry, especially at you, it's really fucking hard to keep that part under control,” another deep breath, pushing away bad memories "And believe me Charles, physically hurting you over something as stupid as a race would just...I don't know, send me over the edge and quit all of it. All of it,” he repeats with determination.

Charles already knows that.

The silence is heavy and thick.

He finally manages to say something when he feels a cat bushings against his feet.

"I get it, kinda. I feel like that too, sometimes. You probably noticed to some extent. I don't know what else to say," he sighs "I've felt like a shell since that damn argument and the ridiculous thing is, even after all that happened, is that I wanted you back like a mad man and I wanted you to taste what I felt like at the same time. That's why I came," admits Charles, "I guess we are not that different and equally bad. Well, I don't know,” he shrugs sadly, looking down at the floor.

"Maybe. I did something stupid, I'm sorry Charles. I acted on impulse. For what it's worth I swear I didn't kiss her, in any of the takes."

Charles ignores him "You know what I don't get?" Charles asks but doesn't wait for an answer "It's that you always promised me that we would get over whatever mean thing we said, that you would get over it but you never did. At least, this time not soon enough."

"You said—"

"I know what I said in those interviews and I also know what you said. Did you lie? Or did you really believe it?" And his tone is the same he uses during a fight, he’s aware of that, he’s poking the lion with a stick. However, he wants answers and he will get them one way or another.

"I wanted to hurt you and I could have never imagine it would have led to all this bullshit. I was ready to let that all go, I told you all of this already before, Charles. I told you I would calm down and use my head, I know you would too and I was right because we both came to each other at some point. The intent to move on was there, Charles. And then that fucking—" he sighs, shaking his head frustrated.

At that Charles snaps "You fucking know I'm as loyal as a damn dumb dog and you still—!"

"I'm really sorry!” He shouts “It was just too much to think about you with her and I never knew any of it! I worried about you constantly, I needed you with me and instead you were with her— To see the photos and hear— at that moment I couldn't handle it,” he explains “I'm not that strong, not when it comes to you. I couldn’t believe you agreed to stay with me half of the time!” He throws his hands in the air with a shocked laugh “I shouldn't have doubted you and jumped to conclusions. I know and I’m sorry about that." Charles can still see the frustration in Max's face "But why would you not tell me something as stupid as that before? Why?"

And Charels looks increasingly anxious "I was scared, okay! I don't know why, I just was!” He shouts too “I thought that you were already mad about me being away with friends and adding on top of that my ex it would have been too much. I know you would have said nothing, I know okay , I just— the possibility of it though— I know I would have reacted badly if you would have said no for some reason. And it would have been bad Max, I know myself,” he looks at him in the eyes when he says that, to make sure he understands “And even if that—all those possibilities completely didn't exist, I know you would have been disappointed and I could not bear that. I would have just told you when the stupid invite came," he gestures to the letter "and everything would have been fine," he finishes out of breath.

"You are actually stupid."

"Don't say that, you would have been sad. You've been sad all summer long because of me and I wanted to spare you of something that would have made you even more sad. And then you started not speaking to me and I just—"

"Charles—" Max sighs in frustration "I just wanted to spend some time alone with you that was more than three hours. I didn't think it was too much to ask for, it's the only time of the year where you are away from the thoughts of Ferrari. I thought I could— I don't know, fill that empty space for a while but you didn't allow me to. I just wanted you.”

Charles sniffs again. This thing, about Max comparing himself to la scuderia, comes up regularly in seems. Charles never gave it much thought but it is apparently something that for Max is a problem. That's ridiculous "You still think you are not at the same level as my team?"

Max closes his eyes, Charles hears him gulp, then he opens them toward the ceiling and they are a glossy baby blue, he chuckles "I know I'm not," the smile on his lips is sad "I'm not," he repeats shaking his head and finally looks back at Charles.

The other clicks his tongue, he can’t believe his ears. They really have to fix their relationship from the ground up, he realizes “Do you know why I love Ferrari so much, Max? Why they could drag me over burning glass and I would still stand up for them? Why I've let them put me in the worst possible situations and I just took it like a perfect bitch?" Starts Charles, rubbing his eyes dry of tears. Again.

"No," doesn't even have to think twice. He really, really, doesn't. One of the only certain things in his life.

That makes Charles snort at least "I know you think it's inconcepibile but I would truly do anything for that team. You'll probably never understand but the lows are as terrible as hell but the highs..." Charles sighs sniffing "The highs are so fucking high, never anything ever came close to it. It feels like you're on drugs and on top of the world at the same time. I could never let go of it, I'm completely addicted. I'm insane, I am aware of that. I'm not that stupid. I dedicated my being to them almost as a therapy, to make me feel worth of something after all the people I have lost. Do you remember when you said that I make it all worth it?"

Max nods not daring to interrupt.

"For what it is worth, our relationship for me is like Ferrari, exactly like it. It's almost cliché. The lows make me feel like carving my heart out no matter how much I struggled and the highs” he looks up to the ceiling with a smile reminiscing the happy moments they spent together “like the luckiest men still walking on this hearth. And that's all because of you, you make it all worth it too, Max,” he points at him “That's what love for me feels like. Makes me go crazy sometimes, say stupid shit I shouldn't, make mistakes when being too confident...” he lists off, he’s not perfect either, far from it “So don't ever think you two are not comparable. The past year, first thing in the morning, I think about you, things like when I'll see you again, what you might be doing, what you would like...

You managed to find and fill a space in my heart I don't even knew it existed. Do you get it now? You make me feel alive just like that fucking car does, could be more honestly,” he admits chuckling “I'm sorry I haven't— how can I say it — externalized how I feel about you to you. Made you feel important. I'm really sorry. I didn't realize. I'll do better, je te prometes,” he finishes lowering his head.

And Max thinks for the first time in his life that he might. Watching his glossy green eyes he does get it. A little.

That day Charles went home with red and puffy eyes. They both didn't know what to do after uncovering all their cards on the tables, no more jollies hidden up their sleeves. They felt stripped naked, more vulnerable than ever and the doubts were too many and too deep to come to a real conclusion. So, with one last sniffle, he left. Charles then just buried himself on his bed for hours, didn't even eat and held onto the keys Max gave back to him like his life depended on it.

Max wasn't doing any better really. He was heartbroken. Seeing Charles like that, so unreachable, worse than the last time they fought hard, drained everything left in him. He felt so hallow and empty. So guilty and so incredibly stupid too. He stayed in his apartment, on his knees, the cats howling at the door hoping it would make Charles come back. Guilt clawed at his soul while longing gnawed at his heart, a relentless torment that left him utterly broken.

He sat there trying not to cry. Of course, that didn't happen.

Chapter Text

The week before Las Vegas is surprisingly quiet and calm. Max and Charles don't talk or scream, not even one text is sent. They leave the other alone in the hopes that they can settle down their mind and think about what to do. Pierre tells Charles they're awful and that they should just talk or fuck it out. Of course he only says that because Charles explained to him Max didn't actually cheat. Pierre, not convinced, investigated on his own to make sure Max was telling the truth. He was. Charles replies that they can't even have hot angry sex because that would affect his performance on track. Charles’ rule is that they can't have sex unless they have at least a two weeks break in between. They could do other things though.

Pierre then rightfully comes to the conclusion that they're sexually frustrated and let's the matter go. Charles is speechless but he's still glad that his friend can find humor in desperate situations such as these because Charles is honestly scared to death. He feels like he is walking on a fine thread with a lion chasing him and all of that is turning in even more anger, frustration and anxiety as a defense mechanism. He feels really sick.

Las Vegas is set to be the race for the fans. Everything is made for entertainment purposes. They've got fun games and videos to record. Every car has special liveries and helmets, the teams are pumped and the crew is excited for what’s to come. It's beautiful from a fan prospective, it's just like a movie, for the drivers...well.

"So, you are both still upset I see. Christian wanted to know what is up your ass lately and wether it's red and made in Monaco."

"Well, I mean. It happened all at once. He retired, I had problems and retired, we crashed, said awful shit, I pushed him away, he got upset, we fight, more shit is brought up and we fight again and now we don't talk. Easy."

Max looks miserable while saying all that. Sarcastic tight smile stuck on his face.

Daniel whistles leaning against a wall, looking around the garage "You both are so compatible together and at the same time you are really, really, not. I could never. Are you still mad at him?"

"Yes, of course. He's fucking infuriating," Max sets his eyes outside, towards the track. Red suits are walking on the asphalt in a hurry.

"Man, you are so in love though. It's painted on your face," that makes Max look down embarrassed "I still don't get why you fight so hard about crashes ‘till you destroy everything you have built."

"It's not just crashes,” admits Max sighing “We said things we shouldn't have said while high on adrenaline, you heard them too… Then something came up while we were shouting and it just tipped me over, I guess... I may have said what I thought in a bad way and at the worst time."

"Do you think he's mad at you still?"

"I know he's angry with me, but I also know Charles panics really easily about us."

And it's true. Because when Max manages to get out of his head, out of his ongoing conflict about how could ever someone like Charles, perfect, glowy —asshole— Charles, ever want someone like Max? When he can do that, which is still not easy to do if he's directly looking at this specific person, then he can make out some clues. How Charles sometimes, in the quiet moments where they don't have the strength to fight and just enjoy the peace and quiet in the other presence, Charles often second-guesses his words. It’s easy to notice, at least for Max. It’s like he doesn't know how to act around him without putting up some kind of wall to protect himself or be ready to attack. He's insecure about doing something daring or romantic, like he's scared Max will reject him. Would rather push Max, make him do the first step towards what he wants. It was clear as day that time at the restaurant.

Max knows Charles is as scared, if not more, as Max is.

Good thing is they are both shitty actors in each others eyes.

Daniel, tired of the whole situation, says “Mate, just talk to him. I mean, it doesn't get you anywhere standing here ignoring each other. Say sorry and move on."

Why should he be the one to apologize? That's what makes Max quiet down. They both did something wrong. Incredibly wrong. And Max did say sorry from the bottom of his heart already. Did Max do the most immature thing he could have done? Of course, there's no escaping that. It is also a consequence of pent up frustration of countless days and nights spent waiting on your boyfriend hanging out with friends and exes behind your back.

Charles simply didn't trust him enough to know. Again, it probably came from feeling scared about a possible reaction from Max. Which had never happened and would have never happened. Max is jealous, yes, but he has never taken it out on Charles. Charles always found it funny testing Max’s buttons. Charles loves and lives to rile Max up. He can't even count how many times he approached someone who was clearly interested in him just to watch Max react and giggle in his face like a child. It was adorable and frustrating at the same time.

Charles flirted with girls and boys with Max right next to him or directly behind, would always make sure Max was within earshot in some way, because he enjoyed watching the expressions on Max's face darken with every stupid conversation. He told him that. To his face.

Max was the same after all. They were both faces of the same coin. They enjoyed getting on each other nerves, that included making the other jealous in some way. In Max's humble opinion, Charles' whole charade of jealousy was funnier.

There was this one time at an event in Monaco, on a club near the famous hairpin. Strangely they both were invited by different people so they used it to spend a night together to party. They, of course, arrived at different times and all, and just happened to bump into the other. What are you going to do? Ignore your colleague? Of course not, it’s not polite, right?

They were chatting with a group of people, Max already on his second drink when Charles began patting his pants hastily and muttered “Oh merde.”

“What? What is it?” Asked Max.

“I forgot my wallet and my phone,” he explained, still searching inside every pocket like they would appear out of thin air.

Max huffed “Why does this happen to you so often? Do you have your key at least? My key? ” Max sounded exasperated “Charles, I swear to god, if you lost the key to my apartment I’ll fucking murder you,” he threatens and he looked dead-serious. For the record: he was./p>

Charles sighed at him dramatically as always “Calm your tits, mate, I have your fucking keys,” he showed them to him, Max snatched them from his grasp. He did not want to risk it.

“I’m thirsty though,” complained Charles full on pouting.

Max rolled his eyes, Charles’ dramatic behavior was rubbing off on him clearly “Do you want some of mine?” He offered his glass.

Charles shook his head scrunching up his face at the drink “I don’t want to die,” Charles began looking around “And you might infect me with your germs.”

Max though that at this point in time they did not even have their own germs, it was all shared. They had created a new micro biome.

“Here, use my card,” Max took out his own wallet.

Charles slapped it away “I don’t want your money.”

Max was silent a few seconds, probably praying whatever god existing to give him the patience to deal with this man.

“You can pay me back—“

They both knew Max will not accept money back. After all, they already had this particular fight. Mainly it was about Charles being mad in regard to Max spending money on him or wanting him to use his money all the time, and Charles getting mad at that. They had a pretty big fight too. One Max was not willing to have for a second time.

“There he is!” Charles smile turned devilish “I’ll come back in five minutes, lion.”

Max watched him make his way through the people, or rather, the people make way for Charles. Max gagged at the scene. It was not like he got on his knees only that exact morning for Charles and could not wait to do it again, that would not be true at all. He would never.

(He could not wait to do it again.)

Charles reached the bar and stood beside a guy who was clearly expecting him, was probably watching him since he had arrived fashionably late (Pierre taught him well). The guy visibly checked his boyfriend out.

Charles then leaned on the counter and the game began.

Max scoffed hard at the sight and went back to his friends, having enough of Charles’ puppy eyes and suggestive smirks.

Five minutes passed by, Max was enjoying his time laughing while still sparing a glance or two every now and then towards the bar, when Charles came back at his side. In his hand a big fancy glass of a fruity — probably more sugar that anything else — gradient orange drink and his mouth occupied in sucking out of the straw.

“This is probably the best drink I ever had. Want some?”

Max looked at the drink. Then at Charles’ angelic face. Max refused.

Back to the point, Max would have not told him 'no' if he wanted to hang out with his ex, would have never yelled at him for that. Max knows Charles is aware of this. He told him so the other night too! The worst thing Max might have demanded was a heavy compensation in cuddles and gaming hours; that’s how devoted he is. Max trusts Charles because he knows, to some extent, to Charles Max is important. More than the random person or old love, he shows him every single day despite their difficulties and miscommunications.

Max might not be his team, his family or his best friends, but he knows he's somewhere up there. They've been part of each other life since forever. Charles searches Max’s eyes through his car mirrors just like Max, waits for Max's comments and opinions on something just like Max waits for Charles', seeks Max's touch and comfort like Max searches Charles'. Max doesn’t doubt Charles. It’s simple.

What they have is special.

Yes, Max hated watching Charles destroy himself when he got into his head, spiraling down a bottomless pit of depressing thoughts, insecurities and anxiousness. Fingers dancing aggressively on black and white keys, green orbs boring into white walls. Max didn't like all the ignoring Charles did when he didn't feel on top of his expectations, didn't like the unexpected throat cutting answers and comments he sometimes got without warning. He didn't lie about all of this. He didn't like being treated like shit for something that was out of his reach, something that was not about races and crashes specifically.

But. There's a but. Because those times, which are not few but not even that much, are the only times in which Max feels like he's the person Charles looks for after a podium, after a win. The one Charles can't wait to share some kind of stupid news or send photos of his cat to. Those are all things reserved for Max and only Max. Those rare times he can say "finally, that's the real Charles I fell for," and not the charming put-up persona he built. The exact one he learnt to hate with passion to perfection after all these years. The one who knows exactly what to say, how to smile and how to look to make you at his abide.

Charles does that an awful lot with Max too, he’s no exception. It might be an habit, he always tries to at least, until Max snaps and doesn't let him get away with it. At that point Charle gets fed up and doesn't know what to do, how to act, and gets frustrated which often times means they end up fighting.

But that's what Max is trying to make Charles realize: he doesn't have to act with him. Max hated seeing Charles miserable because, apart from the obvious, he did not know how to help. How could he know what to do when his boyfriend is clearly hurting and said boyfriend never showed, never allowed him, to stay near and learn. Charles would rather fake it until he makes it, show anger rather than weakness - or that's what Charles would call it anyway, Max disagrees - whenever he tried to approach.

And his friends know nothing about all of this happening, Charles always made sure about that. Would rather spend a week inside his apartment than tell his friends that he was not feeling mentally good.

Max knows simply because he heard some phone calls and saw some concerned looks, especially from Andrea. Plus, he was there when Charles was upset. And if Charles was at home it was because he was not feeling good, and that means most often times than not that Max knew about it. Because he was there trying, and failing, to make him feel better.

And maybe, the fact that Charles at least allowed Max to be around him when he got like that made Max feels special. Max felt worth of seeing glimpses of the real Charles.

So yeah, Max didn't understand why Charles would ever think he could not trust Max with something as stupid as that. Unless it was serious and Max got all of this wrong and he was not special at all. Or, better said, Charles was cheating and was afraid of Max finding out. At least, that's the conclusion he got to in that moment in Charles' apartment.

Max is no stranger to insecurity and lack of confidence clearly, especially since he got with Charles. Now he actually has someone to lose if he fucks up or Charles decided he did not want him anymore. Every damn time he looks at that perfect human being he can’t help but think: how did he get so lucky? What has he done to deserve him? Why did he choose him? So really, Max can’t be blamed for jumping to conclusions, he has serious issues too.

"Man, I never would have guesses sweet Charles would give you such a hard time. I'm beginning to think he has a worse temper than yours."

"Charles is a fucking menace, always has been. I was so confused when we were little because everyone thought he was Jesus incarnate or something. He's a little shit."

"I would love to see you two back then."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure thing Max"

"I'm-I'm actually kind of scared Charles got fed up with me during these weeks... I'm not fucking Ferrari, no matter what he says, he'll let me go in a snap if he thinks I'm sabotaging him in some way. Charles almost did it once and now he has a pretty good reason to.” He looks everywhere but at Daniel’s face.

"Oh Max, that boy has you and his team on the first step of his podium, believe me. He's just as scared as you are, you said it too." Insists his his ex-teammate.

Max clicks his tongue “I don't know... he was pretty fucking broken and angry when we fought. And I treated him like shit, which he obviously reciprocated."

Daniel shakes his head not believing the words coming out of his mouth. Yes, Charles had every right to be angry, it still did not mean he did not like Max anymore though. “Max, the fact that you effect him this much tells you enough about how much he cares. He would have broken up with you already by now, don't you think so?"

"I don't know," Max kind of already believed they broke up the moment he walked away.

"Why do you think so bad of him anyway? It's strange.” He scoffs “One moment he's perfect, the best thing that has ever happened to you and the next you say really awful shit about him. I get that he's not perfect obviously but I don't see what you say."

"He's all of those things and more. I guess I just don't feel as appreciated sometimes because I see how he acts around the things he already has come to love and... I don't know, it all builds up and covers up all the good things. It sounds stupid but it's what I feel and I can't make it go away."

"Mate, I think it's all normal. You are on the very firsts steps of a serious relationship in a very harsh and stressful environment all the time. I get that you might feel like things should move up faster because you've know him since forever. But it's not that easy, I guess. It's not a short cut."

Max stays silent, not really convinced still. They both know each other pretty damn well he'd say. Sure, they had a rocky past, switching from hating to loving the other is bound to be hard and not immediate. But for Max, when he realized that his rival is actually the best partner he could have dreamt of it become all so easy. Liking Charles, loving him is so fucking easy that it's scary sometimes. Because your rival is completely different from an enemy, a true rival is someone who you are in sync with, with your rival you can predict things and try to surprise each other and it's fun, it's the best thing to have on track and in life. You are both so similar but different at the same time, you just complete the other. So yeah, for Max, Charles is the best companion he could wish for and it hurts deeply not seeing this same realization in the other eyes.

Daniel’s eyes soften at the troubled look cast on his friend’s face "Max, I don't want to defend him or something, but I am friend with Seb and that kid has gone through some really bad shit. You too, don't get me wrong,” he raises his hands in defense “but I wouldn't blame him for not falling head first in love with you. I just think he's scared, that's it. You kind of managed to find your peace during these years, he had his plate full for the last decade if not more."

"No, I know, I get it. It's just frustrating, I guess. Not like I imagined."

"You shouldn't blame him then. Are you still angry with him?"

"Yeah."

Daniel bursts out laughing "Mate, you really need to learn to chill sometimes. The both of you."

He was right.

Charles and Max dodge every reporter coming for them, when they can't take it anymore they lock themselves in their own driver rooms. Charles is still pretty worried about his engine. He really doesn't want it to fail under his finger like many times in the past. It's something he doesn't want to experience so close to winning the championship.

“Charles? Charles, please talk to me.”

“What?”

“What?” Fred mimics, huffing indignantly while looking around the empty hallways in between hospitalities. “You’ve been far away for weeks now. Don’t try to act like everything’s fine. What is it?”

Charles blinks, realizing he has probably been staring at the floor for the entire meeting. He couldn’t blame Fred — he looked as clocked out as he felt.

“I’m worried about the engine—”

“Bullshit.” Fred cuts him off sharply. “Don’t feed me that excuse. What is it?”

“I’m just tired.” Charles sighs, trying again. “And I know Carlos won’t do what we just agreed on.”

“He will—”

“He won’t!” Charles snaps, more forcefully this time. “And you know it too. He’s been doing this for years, Fred. Nothing changed.”

Charles was out of it for most of the meeting, that is correct. However, he did not miss the corner of Carlos’s lips go up and exchange a look with his race engineer right as they were telling them to not put pressure on Charles as he had a different strategy that could put him behind Sainz.

Fred pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Charles, listen to me. You’re going to win this, okay? I believe in you. You don’t need Carlos, or anyone else, for that matter. Whatever’s gotten you this upset —and don’t tell me it’s Carlos, because we both know it’s not— I need you to forget it. You have a championship to win, boy. Please.”

Charles falters, his voice cracking as he mumbles, “I—I don’t know, Fred. It just hurts.”

Fred’s expression softens, though his frustration lingers beneath it. “Charles, how the hell can I send you out in that car looking like this? How?”

“I can race,” Charles says firmly, though his voice does not match the conviction of his words. “Don’t worry about that.”

He’s sure he can race. He has raced with worse thought plaguing his mind when he was much, much younger. It’s only Friday, he has time to settle and find his focus. Fred caught him at a bad time, it was just too hard to see him around.

Fred’s lips tightens into a thin line. He studies Charles for a long moment, then sighs deeply. “I know you can. But, Charles… forget it. Whatever it is. Be strong. It’s the last stretch. Please, for yourself, if nothing else.”

Charles nods, avoiding Fred’s gaze. The older man gave his shoulder a firm pat, as if trying to transfer some of his resolve into him and comfort him. He appreciated it and he gave him a small smile in thanks.

Fred leaves after a moment, but Charles stays rooted in place, staring at the empty space before him.

Forget it? If only it were that simple. The thought almost makes him laugh, but not from amusement. He can’t forget it, not this time. Max’s red, pleading eyes haunts him, flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinks.

How could he ever forget that? He wants his lover back—God, was that too much to ask? Why is Max the only thing he could think about when his lifelong dream is so close, just a handful of points away?

The thought twists in his chest, an ache so sharp it steals his breath. Is he that cursed? That unlucky? To reach his dream, does he really have to give something—or someone—up?

Maybe that’s what the universe is telling him. If he wanted this win with Ferrari, he had to let Max go. He cannot have both. That would be too greedy, wouldn’t it?

The world hates him. Of course it does. How else can he explain why having two good things at once feels so impossible?

“Charles?”

Charles’ head snaps up.

“Charles, why are you crying?”

Is he? He reaches up, his fingers brushing against a stray tear.

“It’s nothing,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Go away.”

“Charles—”

“Please, Max,” Charles chokes, his composure unraveling. “It’s not fair. Please.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a sob escaping despite his best efforts to hold it in.

Max stands frozen in the hallway, every event from that race until now replaying in his mind, the accusations they’d thrown at each other cutting like knives.

And yet, seeing Charles like this, crumpled and raw, made every word he’d said feel hollow. His instincts screams at him to close the distance, to kneel beside him, to take Charles’ hands in his and beg him to tell him what was so wrong to make him cry now. How can he fix this? Can he?

But he does not.

He cannot.

Max’s hands curl into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. Don't do it. You’re just going to make it worse.

If he went to him now, would Charles push him away again? Say something cruel? Or worse —break apart completely in his arms?

Max swallows hard, his throat dry. “Charles… you know I’d stay if you wanted me to.”

Charles doesn’t lift his head. He doesn’t even look at Max. He just shakes his head, a bitter laugh slipping out. “You shouldn’t. Go. Just go.”

The words hit Max like a slap, but he nods, even though Charles is not watching. He understands, he can’t blame him.

“Okay,” Max says quietly, though it feels like it is tearing him apart. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before stepping back, his voice faltering as he adds, “Take care of yourself, Charles.”

Charles stays silent, his eyes fixed on the asphalt, tears streaming freely now. Guilt eating him alive. He simply cannot give Max false hope when he himself doesn’t know what they should do. Max doesn’t deserve that and he can’t always lean on him now.

Max lingers by the hospitalities, his heart tugging at him to turn back, to do something, anything. But he clenches his fists tighter and walks away, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

Charles sits there long after Max has gone, his chest hollow and aching. He wanted to call out to him, to take it all back, but the words wouldn’t come.

The image of Max’s hurt expression is burned into his mind, just like his pleading eyes from before. Charles buries his face in his hands, letting out a muffled sob.

He wants to believe Fred’s words—to be strong, to focus, to win. But right now, all he wanted was Max. And the universe was making it cruelly clear: he couldn’t have both.

His tense nerves must be pretty much painted on his face, his team keeps showing him data to make him understand everything is back to optimal shape on Sunday and Max keeps on throwing concerned glances at him. Like he wants to asks, wants to come closer and touch him to make him feel better.

He never does.

Charles feels sick to his stomach.

Getting inside the car, locking yourself inside a potential death trap, while you and your significant other are in the middle of major fight is the worst feeling ever. That's the first thing they both learn quite quickly. You really want to just forget everything, kiss the other senseless and just enjoy the race. But you can't, not here, not now. So with immense regret and promises to do exactly that first thing first once they get out, they both slam their visors closed with a snap, waiting for the lights to go out.

During the actual race they both scream orders on the radio and profanities when the other is in front. The Ferrari is more then okay, she’s singing under Charles’ touch.

Max and Charles are chasing desperately after points as they are at a match point currently, starving and restless, corner after corner. No mistakes allowed.

Then the unexpected happen. It's completely out of the blue. Charles is frantic to keep his hard earned lead, defending tooth and nail, he needs those points for Abu Dhabi, he really, really needs those. Max is behind him angrier then ever, a literal big raging bull is chasing after him. Charles has his heart galloping at insane speed right in his throat, he feels like he might pass out any moment, constantly checking the rear mirrors to predict where and when to block the blue car.

It's during a corner that a lapped car turns and places itself unexpectedly in front of Charles. He instinctively goes for the breaks, his wheels lock up and he swerves off track to at least not crash into the other car. Max behind him follows and they both end up out of the track, their car ever so gently bump their nose and stop in the wall right beside each other. It's like it was on purpose, really, a choreography. Scripted for a movie.

Charles is shouting on the radio, asking who the fuck just ruined his race. He hears Max doing the same when he exits the car, kicking whatever is on his way. His car mainly. That just fuels him more. His blood is boiling.

They don't even check on the other, promises of kisses be damned. That's how angry they are, fueled by adrenaline, they just run toward the car that ended up on the asphalt like 20 meters away from them. The stewards are there immediately, pushing them off and guiding them where they have to go even if they struggle, trying to avoid a fight like last time. They are full to the brim with rage.

"Please, calm down! The both of you!"
More people come on track to take out the three cars. And who is the one that took them out? Fucking Ocon. Who's being quickly escorted away too.

When they're actually in the same room where there are the guys from the FIA to discuss the accident it's hell. Like, literal hell. Everything explodes.

Both Ferrari and Redbull’s drivers still have helmets on and people surrounding them to keep them apart.

"What the fuck is your problem? How can you ruin a race from the back of the fucking grid?" shouts Charles pushing people away from him.

"I'll fucking kill you, we could've all fucking died out there you motherfucker," Max is getting too close for comfort to the Alpine driver, shouldering past Charles too "Jij klootzak, you dare to hurt Cha—"

"If you don't all calm down there will be consequences,” someone says but it's completely muffled by all the voices shouting and scolding them. Huge cameras and phones are there too like vultures on a dead prey.

"Take care of your pit Bull, he's starting to bite."

"Don't ever fucking say that," growls Charles catching a glint of Ocon face over the sea of people restraining them.

"Oh, you're alive then! I'm so glad you didn't end up like Jules or Anthoine. It's racing, it happens, right?" He mocks.

Charles sees red “I'll punch you so fucking hard you'll go into a coma, you cunt.”

" Espèce d'enfoiré, n'ose pas dire leurs noms! Espèce de merde!"

"Pleures-tu? Oh, pauvre bébé." coos Esteban while people are urging him to walk away because Charles and Max are quickly getting rid of who's on the way, their strength unmatched.

"OI! let's all calm down! You! Separate them! Ferrari seize your driver. Red Bull come on!"

Then Horner is magically there pulling them away with all his might from their suits "You fucking children...You! Take Leclerc! I can't pull them out both!”

His driver struggles immediately "Chris, let me go! I'm fucking killing him this time, did you hear him?"

"Max, lets fucking go! Ignore him! He's full of shit!"

Charles beside him is still struggling with the many arms keeping away too. He's so fucking scared and angry he feels sick to his stomach, he's glad he has his helmet on. He can't stop until that piece of shit is thrown off the grid. He has no right to say those things. He's so dead.

"Someone please take Ocon away? Come on!" People are shouting, others are shielding the cameras and reporters. It’s all so crazy, there must be hundred of people all in all in such a tiny room.

"Charles, andiamo!" It's probably Andrea, then Fred should be somewhere near too. He sees the red suits of the mechanics acting as a shield to block the sight. They too look pretty angry. How many people are there exactly?

"I'm not leaving. He ruined my race! He fucking said that—" If his voice is shaking then no one seems to notice it.

"I know but you gotta let him go!" he takes his helmet, thank god it's big and easy to grip, in his hands to make him look at him and away from whatever is happening around them. Chris is doing pretty much the same thing to Max who's still fighting and turning away from him as he is much stronger “If you keep going it will ruin your championship, not just your race! Charles, please! I'm sorry but you have to walk away!" He tries to reason with him.

"But-"

"Charles, I'm begging you, let's go back! Be the bigger man.”

“Charles, s'il te plaît.” that’s Joris.

Charles looks into his best friends’ determined and shiny eyes and finally nods giving up, he deflates completely. He turns towards Max who's still struggling with four people holding him and screaming in Dutch. He's gonna get in real trouble if this goes on for too long or he accidentally hurts someone. He sees Jos Verstappen storming towards him and that's a sight Charles honestly doesn't want to see.

He pushes everyone off, Horner too that is still trying to reason with the driver "Leclerc, it's not the fucking time—" he looks furious, he has never seen him like this before.

Charles ignores him.

"Max? Max, let's go. He's not even fucking worth it,” he grips hard on his shoulder, digging his nails in to make him snap out of it "Come on, let's go somewhere else,” at least Max seems to be hearing him. Charles then faces the people holding him and pushes them away "Let him go! Come on, don't hold him down like an animal, he's coming. See? Let's fucking go, Max,” he urges pulling him.

"He fucking-!! I can't let him off like that, it's not fucking fair!"

"Believe me, I know. Just— shut the fuck up and follow me,” he takes his arm in a deadly grip and pulls him away forcefully again, practically dragging him away.

They walk quickly. They have to. Flashes are going off in every directions, mics are being shoved in their direction asking questions. Fortunately they still have helmets on. The stewards do their best to push them off until they're back inside, away from wherever Ocon is, and lead into a secluded and empty room.

"I don't have words, what the fuck was that? Uh, Charles? What the fuck!"

Charles finally manages to take off his helmet in the sudden quiet, fills his lungs with oxygen before throwing it away and before Christian begins his angry speech "You two are fucking insane! Im tired of you! I get the anger, I get the frustration, but that's unacceptable behavior! You just made all of us look awful with your stupid fucking temper tantrum. You do know they can disqualify you from the championship, right? The both of you! Max, I really can’t—“

The sickness comes back full force. He is gonna puke, isn’t he?

"Can you leave us alone one minute? I can't have you all screaming. Just, get the fuck out," says Charles, voice breaking "Please."

The principals both scoff at the same time turning towards each other, Horner looks murderous but he kicks a chair and slams the door walking out with a red face and a rain of cuss words Charles doesn’t even know. The sound of the slam is deafening in the room.

"Ce n'est pas tout, Charles,” glares at him Fred before following the RedBull pt.

When the doors are closed once again Max screams a long, throat wrenching 'Fuck!' And then punches a hole in the wall. Now, thinks bitterly Charles, he understands what were those strange frames in his garage.

Charles kinda feel like screaming the same thing to be honest but he just sighs sitting down on the floor against the wall regaining his breath and trying not to pass out, gulping down the saliva pooling in his mouth. What's going to happen to them now? The last race is the upcoming week and they have the exact same points, he doesn't even fucking remember who has the most wins. Can they even win the championship like this?

He hears Max's helmet hit the floor very hard and then watches as it rolls away "That was so dangerous. It's the third fucking time that asshole does the same thing! Third!"

"I know,” chokes out Charles.

"We could have been dead. You could have two cars on top of your head! The halo's not gonna save you from that!"

"I know,” he gulps. The coldness comes back, Charles takes more deep breaths.

Of course he knows. Many things could have happened and Charles was right in the middle. A wheel could have snapped his neck had it made it in the cockpit or oil and set everything on fire. He wonders which one of the two cars would have been on top of him first. Is that something he should wonder about? Is that insane?

"I can't fucking believe it. If they don't do something about him..."

"Max, please.”

"What? I don't fucking care anymore, I bet he did it on purpose. I don't care, I've had enough. If my car is ruined I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"You car is fine, don't worry about that."

"How are you so calm now? He fucking blocked you in a corner and you're all calm again? What the fuck? He cut you off! And then he says those things? Charles, that's so fucked up, so fucking much! How dare he say that? Why aren't you doing anything about it?" he kicks his helmet too for good measure, that's going to hurt his foot. It cracks the wall “You could have been dead, Charles. Fucking dead. I could have lost you foreve—” his voice cracks.

"I know that Max, I was there, remember? I just can't deal with you getting angry at me too for no reason, so please don't. I have had enough already these weeks. Say all you want about him, beat him up for all I care, but don't you fucking dare direct you anger at me because I'm seriously gonna walk out and eyes come back. I mean it," Charles hard set of eyes stare him down. He won't take it, Max is the least of his problems right now. He's not gonna let him, and his bad temper, get the best of him in this tragic moment. Charles is just glad he can feel his heart beating again like normal and that he can finally breath and talk without breaking down. "I'm so fed up with everything. I've had enough. I'm tired of seeing you angry, of fighting, of him, of racing, everything. J'en ai assez, ça suffit."

Max finally visibly deflates right in front of him like a balloon.

"You're right, I'm sorry,” Max's voice is back to normal.

"Yeah,” Charles’ voice wobbles.

"Are you okay?" Max drags his feet until his next to him and sits down. The sudden drop of adrenaline must have finally knocked the lion down.

"I don't know. I almost rear ended a car going at 300km/h and the one behind me almost did the same thing to me so, yeah, I guess I'm okay, you know? Just saw my life flash before my eyes a couple of times.”

"I'm sorry you had to go trough that,” Max's arm circles his shoulders and Charles leans in the confort that the other presence provides him. "Shit, I'm so sorry,” he missed him. He shouldn't but he missed him. He missed him so fucking much.

"I'm sorry too,” whispers Charles dropping his head on his knees.

"Are you hurt though?" Asks Max placing a hand on the back of his neck.

"I don't know, are you?"

"I don't know, guess we'll see in a couple of hours,” takes a deep breath Max rubbing Charles arm up and down next.

"Yep. When do you think we can go home?"

"Oh shatje, I don't even think we'll ever leave the FIA building.”

Charles hums and yawns, feeling very tired from all that happened in the last twenty minutes.

"You sure you didn't hit your head?" Max sounds really worried.

"I didn't even touch the other car. I do think my wrists are gonna be very sore though, my steering wheel was everywhere in a split second.”

Max takes his hands in his, and rubs his thumb in a circle to soothe his sore hands before pulling them up to kiss them. Charles wants to sleep away the weekend forever.

They stay like that for what felt like an eternity but was in really just over half an hour. Then someone enters the room telling them to follow him.

They get up slowly on wobbly and tired legs and walk all the way to the main office where all the important stewards and representatives of the FIA are waiting for them. Horner and Fred are there too, together with other team members.

It should be very scary, with all these people gathered to scold you and decide the fate of you dream. But the drivers are so done with it all already.

The president begins his speech about how it's unacceptable, that they don't represent the right sportsmanship, and blah blah....

"Now, we've discussed what to do with you two with your respective team principal. The incident on track wasn't your fault, clearly, but I can't let you go without punishment because that shit-show happened in the paddock and inside this very building. Your points will remain untouched but you both will start at the pit-lane exit no matter how you do in qualifying,” he says with a tone that doesn't accepts interruptions "And of course you will do one week of public services. Any questions?"

"What about him?"

"Esteban Ocon has had his super license suspended and a race-ban for next race because this is the second time he was involved in something like this this season alone. Plus public services."

"That's it?"

"That was a serious crash that could have happened," adds Max to Charles’ question.

"But it didn't. He lost the rear of the car and that's why he blocked you. You're all unhurt from what I gathered and the cars are fine. You made a big deal out of nothing."

They both scoff not believing him "He could have steered the other way then, thats the rule, non?"

"We are not discussing what could or should have happened. This is what has been decided. You are all dismissed and I don't want to see you faces in here ever again."

They all walk out in silence.

"That's complete bullshit by the way," mumbles Charles.

"I agree, we didn't even touch him,”

"You both shut the fuck up. I don't wanna hear it," it's Horner that scolds them, he looks exasperated “My dogs are better behaved than you two.”

They all enter the RedBull motor home and go up to the meeting room after escaping from every single person on the paddock. Charles doesn't even know why he's here but he just follows his team. He doesn't feel like asking. At all.

"Now, congratulation for your stint back there, so proud of you. Anyway, of course, you will not say anything to the press, not one word. You will be the perfects little puppies and shut the fuck up during interviews. We have a press conference planned in twenty minutes, memorize the answers we prepared and I expect you to be in your best fucking behavior ever! Are we clear?"

"You will say that what you did will never happen again and that you're sorry you lost your temper like that. You will say sorry to all the stewards and Ocon,” adds Fred.

"I will not say that," Charles doesn't hesitate to say.

"Me too, I'm not sorry. I'm sure everyone agrees with us and won't ever believe us if we say that. That's ridiculous."

"I don't think you realize how big of a fight you had, how many cameras were around. You're fucking lucky you didn't hurt him because we would have ended up in a police station instead."

"I'm still not sorry. My reaction was valid, I've never done anything to him on track and he has ruined two of them under the blue flag. Not mentioning what he says to me off track. He disrespected my family and friends. So no, I will not say I'm fucking sorry, that's all I'm asking. He wanted me dead, he did that shit on purpose."

"He's right" Max adds, Hornes sends him a glare.

"I understand that, Charles, but I told you that I will not accept any more fighting during this season."

"I know and I'm very sorry about that. But I won't say sorry to him, I won't bow my head to someone like him not worth of my respect. I don't care about the consequences, he insulted me and my family, that's unacceptable."

He looks at Fred straight into his eyes, stubborn as a mule until he clicks his tongue turning the other way. Better than nothing.

"Come on, let's go do this conference."

That one is one of the worst conferences ever done. The drivers are visibly exhausted and have zero patience for questions, it's all left to the TPs that are still boiling with anger about what they have to deal with.

"Will the drivers be penalized under the jurisdiction of your team?"

"I think I can speak for both teams and say that first of all, it's none of your businesses. Second of all, the champion is still to be declared, until then the drivers can't be touched as they are under a strict contract. They will know whatever will happen after that."

That was the last question answered by Horner.

"Charles, you were the first victim of this accident, I think we can all agree and say you did a fantastic save there, can you tell us what were your thoughts when you saw the car suddenly in front of you.”

"Bah," he sighs "Honestly, I'm just glad that me and Max have great reflexes and avoided the crash in that second. I don't know what I thought about."

Or rather, he knows but he can't tell or he would be banned.

"What about your relationship with Esteban Ocon? You don't have to answer, only if you're comfortable with it."

"We didn't have a relationship to begin with," Max scoffs beside him, nodding in agreement "But apart from what happened on track I will never forgive what he said. That's it."

"Thank you."

"Verstappen, how come you took Leclerc’s side? It's very strange considering your past arguments, in the last few races you didn't seem very friendly. We all heard your opinions about each other."

"I know you all don't think so but I'm a decent human being sometimes and I can distinguish when someone's in the wrong or right. Ocon did and said things that are very disrespectful. Our personal arguments don't matter, those are between us two."

"And are they solved?"

"That's none of your fucking business.”

"Max, please," scolds Horner rubbing his temple.

"I mean, I'm just asking because what you both said in the Brazil interviews weren't nice things too. So why are you both taking each other side now? It doesn't make sense."

"Me and Max have said mean things, yes, but we already talked about it. That's it,” intervenes Charles hoping it would placate the journalist.

"So you're fine with him insulting you're brother?"

“Can you stop instigating my driver—“ Fred begins, him too reaching his level of patience. He won’t stand here listening to blood sucking journalists talk shit about Charles, not after the day he had. They both had, really.

"Of course I'm not, he's a— he’s terrible.” He clears his throat, he doesn’t want anymore penalties for cussing “But I also know Max since he couldn't even speak English and he does too. We say bad things all the time just to hurt the other. I thought it was pretty clear,” adds Charles, interrupting Fred.

"I think we're done here, right?" Asks Fred before everything they worked for goes all down the drain.

When Charles is finally back in his hotel room, being escorted back under the millions of fans, he finally picks up his phone which is exploding with notifications.

He tells Seb he's okay before he books the first flight to him (he threatened to ground him which at least made him laugh, he knows he says these things on purpose) and reads Pierre texts.

Apparently he punched Ocon who now has a black aye. Charles doesn’t waste a second before calling him.

"Pierre? What the fuck did you do??"

"Charles! Are you hurt? Did they ban you? I'm not really updated,” Pierre’s voice is frantic.

" Me? What about you? Are you banned?"

"I just—Ugh, okay. When we all came back from the race and learnt what happened it was hell in the paddock too. Everyone was trying to defend you and Max with the journalists. And then we saw him walking away like nothing happened at all!"

"So you punched him? With everyone watching? Are you fucking crazy?"

"I didn't! I was held back. But at the hotel? Oh yeah, I hit him. No one saw so they can't do anything. And it wasn’t on track so technically..." Pierre trails off.

Charles presse one hand against his forehead "You're out of your mind."

"No, Charles. Listen to me. I lost Jules. I lost Anthoine. And then I heard him—him, who knew them too—saying that shit about you? I’m not losing you because he’s a piece of garbage who can’t drive. I couldn’t let it go.” Pierre’s voice shakes, barely holding in his anger. “I’m sorry you had to hear it.”

Charles goes quiet for a moment, guilt and gratitude clashing in his chest. “Oh, Pierre... I don’t even know what to say."

"Nothing. It’s done. I'm glad I don't have to see him this week. How are you? Did they yell at you? How did Ferrari take it? How bad is it?”

“I’m fine. Yeah, there was a lot of yelling. But honestly? I’m not that worried.”

"Good. Okay. Are you going to sleep now?"

"Yep, I'm beat."

"Then sleep. Max's with you?" Pierre’s voice softens, tentative now.

"No. I don't know where he is."

"Did you two fight again?"

"I don't think so. It’s just been an horrible day.”

“Alright. Get some rest, okay?”

"Thank you, Pierre. Like for real, you didn't have to take a risk like that."

”Charles… you don’t need to thank me. I’d do it again, right now”

Charles lets out a soft laugh, even though he feels like crying. “Thank you, Pierre. For real. I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

“You do. Good night.”

“Good night. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Pierre says, before hanging up.

The next day they send him the updates on the car. It's not heavily damaged so that's good news, the breaks are cooked though. The pressure he put on them must have been a new record. Carlos shows up in his room to hug him tight and tell him everything that happened while they were all fighting. It seemed like the drivers were pretty concerned too about them and the fans were all on Charles and Max's side which is always good to hear.

It was nice. Still, Carlos was one of the last people he wanted to see considering he was the reason he had a not so easy race. He appreciated it he came but not really.

He meets Max on his way to the lobby to check-out of the hotel and go back to Maranello for a meeting before Abu Dhabi.

Max is talking on the phone pretty aggressively with someone but instantly takes him to the side of the hallway by his hand.

He hangs up and turns to him "How do you feel?" He places one hand on his cheek stroking his thumb high over his cheekbone.

Charles shrugs leaning his back on the wall watching his blue worried eyes "And you? Did you get here late last night?"

"Still mad and yes, Christian just had to yell at me some more with Helmut."

"That sucks," he looks down at his feet.

"Yep."

“Your dad?” Charles still has this image of him storming in the room. He looked furious.

“Don’t worry about it.”

"Are we okay?" Asks Charles lifting up his gaze after some seconds in complete silence. Max is already looking at him. Charles feels like he's been standing on thin ice all week.

Mac furrows his eyebrows “What do you mean?"

"We've been arguing before yesterday, remember?"

"I don't care about that, of course we are okay. Do you think we are not?"

"I don't know. But you were very upset and I was too. I personally think it's stupid anyway. It's all been said and done anyway. Breaking up just to feel ten times worse doesn't makes any sense to me,” he sighs “It was a big misunderstandings after all.”

"Good. I told you I'm not leaving you. Just because we fight it doesn't mean I don't love you anymore, it happens. We are under a lot of pressure."

He says that like it’s so easy. The pretty words just go over Charles’ head.

Max personally thinks it’s really endearing. He has been telling Charles he loved him in so many ways and Charles still did not get it. It was funny.

"And I would like if you don't throw it at me every time for stupid reasons."

"You did too though.”

"Probably," admits Charles, honestly yelling at Max always felt good and bad at the same time. He's like a wall that you know won't crumble even if you push with all your strength. It will just push you back harder.

"I heard Pierre punched him."

"Yeah, he had it coming. I'm just happy Pierre wasn't punished for it," he pulls the other closer by the hem of his t-shirt.

"You look so sad, shatje. I'm so fucking sorry. I hate this," he gently brushes his fingertips under his eyes. He must have huge bags and red eyes for sure.

"You don't look any better," he lets his head fall on the other chest. Max circles his arms around his shoulders holding him close.

"I'm so glad it's ending soon. I'll take you up in the mountains during this break, okay? That way we'll be alone and I can have you all for myself.”

"I'd like that, I really do.”

"Yeah? Look at me," Charles moves his head slightly so that his chin is still in his chest and nods "You'll never get rid of me Charles, don't ever think that ever again, okay? You're perfect for me, it's okay to fight sometimes, I'm sorry I hurt you in the mean time. I was really fucking stupid and I'm pretty ashamed of it honestly."

"I'm sorry I hurt you too, I didn't mean it. I'll try to be more me around you all the time,”
Max smiles sweetly at him leans in slowly asking for permission. Charles nods and Max kisses him in the lips many, many times. Charles finally smiles at him and Max's heart is at peace again.

Charles pulls back from the love attack laughing. Max could watch him forever like this "Oh Max. I missed you so fucking much," and Max finally see what he searched for so long. He sees Charles eyes with that same light, the same affection he yearned from him. Or maybe he was just too blind to see it all along.

"Me too, baby, me too. It was awful. Sassy has been screaming at the door for weeks now," he hugs him again.

"Is that why you want to be with me??" Asks Charles, voice muffled by the hoodie.

"Of course not, she also has been scratching me every night. Even Jimmy seems to hate me now!"

"He's right, you're a dick.”

Max kisses his head chuckling.

"For real, if something really bad had happened in that race I don't know what I would have done other than stop racing for good." Charles is completely splattered against the wall unable to breath but content and relaxed.

"Are you going back to Monaco?" Asks then Max.

Charles shakes his head "See you on track?" He looks down at his lips.

"Yep," he kisses him slowly cradling his jaw, he really missed him "Can't wait," smirks Max. "I took down the ad, it was awful anyway,” he adds.

That's probably what he was yelling about on the phone. Charles nods.

"Okay,” it’s all he manages to say.

He peck Max's lips one last before they part ways.

__

Coming back to Max's apartment is... strange. It's still a bit messed up and the last memories here aren't great. He spent some days in Italy before he decides to come back home. He just wanted to be in his safe space after all that happened. With his cat and his family before the next race. Max and him texted a couple of times, it was still awkward in some ways. So, when in Monaco, he instantly felt the pull to go to him and that’s what he did.

Spidey jumps down from his arms in ecstasy running up to Max meowing at the same time that Sassy jumps up to Charles.

"My baby girl, you're so pretty! Tu m'as manqué." he kisses her nose and face and everywhere really. Jimmy is at his feet waiting for his pets too before sprinting away. He has always been more diffident out of the two and less demanding.

"Ah, stop! You monster!" on the other side of the room, while Sassy is all sweet with Charles, purring and relaxed in his arms showing him her belly, Spidey can't seem to keep still. He's climbing up his shirt, stroking his entire body on Max's face who's getting mouthfuls of fur and scratches.

"You are both so cute, look at that, my two favorite stress inducing animals finally together!"  Says Charles watching Max sit on the couch so Spidey has more room to move.

"Thinking of becoming a comedian?"

Charles takes out his phone, snapping a few pictures of Max fighting for his life under the big black cat. Then, he posts on instagram's stories one where finally Max managed to keep him still cradled into his arms looking up all lovely with his big green eyes, only his hands are visible, and captions it "back together ❤️" thinking nothing of it. His fans know he was away from home so it's reasonable it’s him in the photo. The friends that know about the past situation all seem happy for them.

He still spots a few accounts recognizing Max's hands but they are not really believed too much so he's fine. Second time that Spidey almost outs them though, who knows if one time he will finally succeed.

Once the greetings are done Charles decides that the apartment has to be cleaned up a bit. He is not tolerating the stench of RedBull and clothes thrown around. Max doesn't argue and helps him. Their—Max's room is especially messed up, with the bed undone from what looks like months.

Charles, at the end of it, is more tired than he expected. They didn't just clean, they talked too. Didn't argue! Record! Took pauses for some reflecting they had to do, like an healthy couple! But also for some loving when certain feelings where exposed and confessed, like how lonely they both felt, how shitty and guilty, how they wanted to never enter a car again without settling down an argument...

(“I really missed you know? I felt like a part of me disappeared. I really thought this would be the end for us.”

“Charles—“

“No, let me finish. I felt like when you left my categories in karting and I felt so disoriented. The fact that I would still see you now but you would be out of reach… I think I would have preferred like it happened in karting where I could not. And when the accident happened… I just thought, while the Alpine stopped, how I might never have the chance to hold you again. So I just slammed the brakes and hoped for the best.”

“We would have make it, Charles. I know we would. We are not quitters. I for sure would have not let that happen.”

“What if it went wrong? What if—“

“It didn’t and it will not happen. It can’t, Charles. I—“ Max’s throat tightens painfully “I can’t lose you, Charles. Whatever happens from now I simply cannot lose you. I’m in this for life.”

“Oh Max, don’t—don’t cry, please.” Charles takes him into his arms “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” he then proceeds to kiss his temple, his forehead, his pouty lips and every corner of skin he can reach.

“You better. Whose ass would I kick if not yours?”)

(“You know I couldn’t open a RedBull until that day we finally talked again?”

“I noticed. Why?”

“Because you hate them and I thought it would make you come back.”)

(“There wasn’t a day I didn’t cry.”

“Don’t tell me that, please,” begs Max, face full of guilt and sadness.

“I wondered if I just kissed you that time in Austin it would have changed things—“

“You were right, I didn’t deserve it—“

“Or if I should have tried harder in Mexico to come to you—“

“No, no, fans were crazy that race—“

“Or in Monaco, I should have just shoved my ego aside.”

“…”

Charles drops the piece of trash he was holding “It’s my fault, isn’t it? You were apologizing and I pushed you again. We would have been fine if I just let you in.”

And he’s crying again, great.

“Maybe,” admits Max before cradling Charles’ face in his hands, locking eyes with him “But I don’t want you to change, Charles. I fell for your strong character too, your fierceness and stubbornness. You push me and I love it. I would hate it if you changed. I like you the way you are, a fighter, no matter how annoying.”

“I guess I can see that. I don’t want you to change either.”)

(“She was psychotic, Charles. Like, I would not be surprised if she has a voodoo doll of me.”

“Yeah, it was obvious. How was the party? The other celebrations?”

“Awful. You have ruined me Charles,” he whines.

Charles laughs, throwing his head back “Why?”

“All those people that tried—They were so insignificant compared to you. Their hands felt so wrong, their words, their eyes… I don’t know, they all felt disgusting. I could not help but think about your pretty face.”

“Oui?”

“It was annoying.”

“You wound me,” Charles fakes a gasp.

“Lando told me you got swarmed by admires everywhere you went. He said one time you had to ask Albon for help?”

“I guess not having my Dutch bodyguard around meant I was free to try their luck with me,” he rolls his eyes “I was never in the mood, I was pretty depressed, so one time I got fed up and Alex helped me get home safely.”

“I’m so sorry—“

“Stop that. You are here now and it’s not you job anyway. They are trash and it’s nobody’s fault but theirs.”)

It was a full good day back together all in all, so Charles curled up on the couch once finished feeling sleepy while Max played some game. The day after Max's wallpaper was not the wide shot of the both of them at the club that one time - which Max had not changed even during the 'breakup' - but a photo of Charles hugging Sassy, sleeping with his face smushed against her body so that only his hair is visible, and Jimmy curled up in a ball behind his slightly bended knees.

Max almost wept at the sight.

___

"Charles Leclerc, you are the world Champion! Congratulations! Bravo! Bravo! So happy for you!"

"Don't—Are you sure?"

"Yes, Charles! Oh my god, you did it!" Then Fred's on the radio "CHARLES! You fucking did it! From the pits all the way to p1! You are a fucking champion!"

"Are you serious?" Charles slows down "YES! YES, YES! I'm so happy, good job guys! Non ho parole." And yep, he's crying "Thank you, thank you..."

"Take it home, kid. You're a fantastic driver, we are all so proud, well done.”

He bows in front of his car and hugs it how he can when he's back with his feet on the floor. Jumps and cries on his team, his family and his friends, all of them who are also crying a river. He still can't believe it even if they announce it every chance they get. Like when Max and Carlos hug him, when he's in the cool down room, when he's sitting on the throne (he still thinks it's cringe), when he walks up on the podium and even when he has the trophy in his hands. It's so surreal. He looks up in the sky, thanking his two angels that are always by his side, with tears streaked cheeks.

His dream actually came true. It happened for real. With Ferrari. He has done what Vettel couldn't do. That's insane.

That day goes out like a blur, the flashes of the cameras, the cheers, the champagne, Max kissing him like his life depended on it and promising more once he had ten seconds to spare... It's honestly all he imagined and more.

He feels drained to his core but the adrenaline is pouring out of him so he does go out to party too. It's tradition.

"We are the champions, my friends. And we'll keep on fighting 'till the end!” they are all singing in the club. Charles is up in the air so many times he doesn't even feel the gravity any more. He's determined to not drink one sip of alcohol (champagne doesn't count) because he wants to remember this night forever. This is something that will never happen again, ones first championship win is like the first win, it has to be treasured.

They look all so happy for him, he's so happy for himself too. He did it! He really did! He finally comes down, sees Max and wraps his arm around his shoulders "We are the champions! No time for losers!" he points at Max, many laugh at him "’Cause we are the Champions of the World!" They are both screaming so loud and carefree.

"I have to say that I'm really glad it's you. You really deserve it, shatje" says Max in his ear when the songs ends "You were magnificent."

"I'm glad too," smiles Charles making Max roll his eyes "You better not drink too much because I really want to fuck later."

He sees, he hears Max gulping even. Charles laughs at his red cheeks.

"Whatever you wish for, princess. It will be an honor," he bows down. Charles is up in the air again shortly after.

They have sex until late, late morning. Then they pass out.

__

Then winter comes around, new cars are being made in the factories and the first heavy snow falls down on Montecarlo covering the streets in white.

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere.”

"Perfect," Max nods.

Max is scared shitless.

After half an hour Charles stops his matte black Ferrari in the middle of a big and empty parking lot. It’s all white around them.

"You know what Jules used to do with me every time it snowed like this?"

Max shakes his head, he's kind of terrified. Jules was well known for his pranks and spirit of adventure around the paddock.

"Donuts,” and Max is gripping on the very expensive leather seat so hard, holding for dear life as the car screeches.

Charles laughs hard, continuing swerving left and right on the thick layer of snow and turns up the music louder. Max is still screaming at him.

When he's content enough with himself they switch up and Max takes his sweet revenge rattling the other everywhere. Charles kind of regrets it for his stomach and kind of doesn't because they are both laughing so hard they can't breath and almost throw up.

Once they melt down all the snow on the street and the car doesn't have rubber on tires anymore they finally stop and come out to watch the thick snowflakes falling down slowly. Max immediately eats shit the moment his feet touch the streets. Charles can't stop laughing for a good five minutes, Max can't even be mad.

"It's so empty and dark," he watches the night sky. The only lights comes from the headlights of the car.

"It makes me wanna scream.”

Charles laughs "What do you wanna scream?"

"That's easy," Max walks until he's in front of him, looks up and takes a deep breath "I FUCKING LOVE YOU, CHARLES LECLERC.”

He promptly slips and falls right on his ass.

Charles begins giggling, red cheeks and nose, dimples out and everything. He looks fucking adorable, Max wishes he could take a video and play it over and over in his mind. Then Charles wobbles beside him and looks up in the night sky "I FUCKING LOVE YOU TOO, MAX VERSTAPPEN."

His throats hurts.

They both look at each other with very red cheeks and out of breath before bursting out laughing until they end up laying on the half melted snow. It's all so perfect. Winning and becoming champion of the world doesn't even come close to how happy they feel right now. So full and content.

Maybe he actually can have both, realizes Charles.

Charles then crawls until he's on the other lap, clothes completely sopping wet and uncomfortable "I love you," he says.

"I love you too,” replies Max, eyes shining.

"You still suck though.”

"Yeah, you're insufferable honestly."

The kiss after that is just a bonus.

(“You do realize I’ve been saying ‘I love you’ since months?”

Charles tackles him down “What!?”

Max laughs. He fucking knew it.)