Chapter Text
Max is practically vibrating with nervous energy, he’s just gotten back home to his apartment after his jet had landed back in Monaco after Baku. His body fucking aches.
He’s still pretty stiff after the shunt and his ribs and shoulders are killing him. Stupid tyre failure. Stupid wall. Stupid track. Stupid Baku.
Once he had been cleared by medical at the track he had retreated back to his drivers room while the race still continued right outside his window. He was in a pissy mood and didn’t want anyone to bother him, so he did the thing any sane person would’ve done. He curled up into a ball and cried to Charles Leclerc songs.
Max never used to really listen to his music, he knew of it, but never made the effort to actually go hear what he was singing, but on the flight to Baku he was bored and got curious… and he was thoroughly impressed.
Charles has this way of conveying his feelings through his music so well.
Max had opened his phone to a flurry of texts from the man himself, he won’t admit it, but reading the concern in his text messages made him cry harder. He isn’t too sure why.
Charles
Holy fucking shit??? [14:32]
Just saw the crash, are you okay? [14:32]
Ok you’re getting out of the car, that’s good [14:32]
Why haven’t they red-flagged the race????? [14:33]
Glad you’re ok. Pls text me when you see this [14:45]
He had facetimed Charles once he had calmed down and his face was less puffy, or so he thought, if Charles had noticed that he was crying he never mentioned it. They had arranged to meet up on Tuesday afternoon, once Max was home to see each other again, and discuss things like they said they would the week prior.
So now here he was, sitting on his sofa, bouncing his leg up and down in anticipation. He isn’t sure why he is so nervous. They literally kissed last week, a conversation isn’t going to kill him.
He’s pulled from his thoughts as his doorbell rings, both the cats perk up at the noise, already knowing the noise means visitors. As Max gets up they both scuttle away, to hide from whoever is at the door.
Max takes a deep breath before opening the door, he’s met with a very comfortable looking Charles, who’s dressed in a hoodie and some jeans, his messy brown hair is being held out of his face by a white bandanna. He looks so cute, Max could just kiss—
Not the time for that.
“Hey,” Charles smiles, holding out a bag of groceries for him. Max frowns, slightly confused. “Well I was going to buy you flowers but then I didn’t know if that would be weird or not, so then I wanted to bring you some chocolate because those always make me feel better when I am sick but then I didn’t know if you still liked the same chocolates you did as when we were kids so then I just went into the store and bought a lot of things.” His face is bright red by the end of his rambling and Max can’t help but feel absolutely endeared by the man.
“Thank you, Charlie,” Max says, gratefully accepting the bag and pressing a tentative kiss to Charles’ cheek. They step inside and Max walks to the kitchen to put the items away, Charles follows him, sitting down at the kitchen island.
“I’m sorry about your race,” Charles says, taking a sip of the water Max hands him. Max just shrugs. “That’s how racing goes.”
“But they didn’t red flag the race! Cars were still going full speed while you were out of the car! They could have hit you!” Charles exclaims, banging his hands on the countertop angrily. Max sighs, placing his water bottle down. “That’s the FIA for you, they do this shit all the time. But I am okay, you do not need to be angry.”
“But I am angry, Max. This is your life that’s on the line. You already put it on the line while racing but they just risked it even more!” The Monegasque grumbles, pulling at the label on the bottle.
Max just sighs in response. “Let's leave it, yeah? It’s in the past now, come, let's sit in the living room so we can talk.” Max walks into the next room, sitting down onto the couch. Charles follows, sitting down as well.
“So… where do we begin?” Charles asks, fiddling with the label of his bottle again.
Max leans back, sighing. “I don’t really know.”
“What are we?” Charles asks, which Max wasn’t expecting, but it’s a fair question. They used to be best friends until Charles left and for the last nearly 10 years they haven’t been in contact at all, and then the night at Jimmyz, they didn’t fuck or anything but they slept in the same bed and then last week they made out in Charles’ office and Max is pretty sure he’s in love with Charles and—
“I don’t know.” Is what Max replies after a beat of silence, he seriously doesn’t know what else to tell him. “But I— I want to be with you, Charles. I want to— I want to see if we work. Last week in your office…” Max trails off, mind running to visions of what they did on that couch in the studio.
“ … Was amazing.” Charles finishes off, looking up at Max with bright eyes.
And Max feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted off of his shoulders.
Because he feels exactly the same.
Max moves over, grabbing Charles hand into his, a soft smile playing on his lips. ”I think we could— should, try this, us.” He says, using every ounce of courage he has in his body.
Charles nods, “I think we should. It has… It’s always been you, Max. Always. Ever since I knew I was gay, it has always been you. And I think I should have said this to you a long, long time ago, but I… I love you, Maxy.” Charles breathes, as if those 3 words have taken all his energy.
Max feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. Charles fucking loves him. Max has never loved anyone before, he’s not even sure if he knows what proper love feels like, but this feeling he has with Charles is unlike anything he’s ever had before.
“I love you too, Charlie, I always have. For me, of course, it’s also always only been you.” Max says, before leaning in to press a tentative kiss to the Monegasque’s lips. Charles kisses back, wrapping his arms around Max’s neck, pulling him closer.
“Come to my next show, please,” Charles asks as he pulls back, lips swollen red and wet from their kiss. Max frowns. “But I have Silverstone next week and I thought you were taking a break from performing to write your album?”
“I have a stadium show I never did when I was still touring, in the UK, I was sick that week so we moved it and it’s the same week as the race,” Charles explains, lacing his fingers with Max’s.
Max smiles. “Okay, I’m sure I can make it work then, how about you stay for dinner, then?”
“I would love to.”
***
As the hours tick by, they spend the evening reminiscing of their past, the races they shared, that one ice cream that started it all.
Max manages to dig up some old pictures of them, as well as some videos of their old races together. It’s some of the most fun he’s had in a long time and he can’t wait to see what the future brings for them.
It’s nearly midnight when Charles tells Max that he’s going to head home.
“Why don’t you stay the night? You’ve had a bit to drink and it’s late and it wouldn’t be the first time you stay over and I know you don’t have clothes or anything here but you can use of mine and I can give you anything you need—”
“I’ll stay over, Maxy,” Charles cuts him off, he seems to be doing a hell of a lot of rambling these days. But that’s the kind of effect Charles has on him. Whenever he is around, all Max wants to do is please him, be good for him. He wants to give Charles the world if he could.
“Okay,” Max says simply, not wanting to embarrass himself anymore than he already has, before walking towards his bedroom, Charles in tow.
Max rummages through his drawers, pulling out a white shirt and some shorts before handing them to Charles. “Bathroom is that door,” He points to a closed door in his room. “The door stays closed otherwise the cats piss in the shower so close it when you’re done please.” He sits down on his bed with a sigh.
“Piss in the… shower?” Charles asks, confused.
“Well yeah, I do not know why they do it, of course, but they do and cat piss stinks and it’s really hard to clean up. They have been doing it since they were kittens, even though I put a litter box in there for them but yeah, they just ignored it. So the door stays closed. ”
Charles giggles as he walks into the bathroom before closing the door behind him. Max takes the chance to get dressed for bed himself, before slipping underneath the covers. He can’t believe this is real life. The last time he was in bed with Charles was when he got blackout drunk and had to physically help him get into bed.
He scrolls through his phone for a while before Charles emerges from the bathroom, folded clothes in hand. He places them down on one of the chairs Max has in his room and makes his way to the bed. Max puts his phone on charge and sends him a small smile.
The Monegasque slips under the covers and immediately snuggles up to him, Max wraps his arms around him tightly. And something just feels so… right about this. There's no longer that awkward tension there was when Charles first arrived, there's no longer the need to be careful or concerned about anything.
Because they can do this now.
And they both want this.
And this is all they need, for now.
“I’m so glad I found you again,” Charles whispers into the darkness of the room, head resting on Max’s chest while his hand draws shapes onto his white shirt aimlessly. His voice is thick with tears, something that sounds so abnormal coming out of Charles’ mouth.
Max stays quiet, unsure if this was the right moment to speak. He instead, moves the hand around Charles’ waist up to his head to play with his hair gently.
“When I moved to LA, I felt so… lost. Americans are just so— much. I missed the smell of fuel and the 2-stroke from the karts. And— and the music industry was so lonely. I was a kid who could barely speak English, and now I was put into a country where they only spoke English and they… they were so mean,” He whispers the last part, trying his best to hold back his tears.
Max still stays quiet, pulling Charles impossibly closer to him to show Charles that he is still listening to him.
“And I missed Pierre, and I missed you so fucking much, Max. When RedBull had announced you as their driver in 2016, I was performing and when I had a break between songs my manager at the time showed me and I fucking cried like a baby, I was so happy for you and I just wanted to hug you and tell you congratulations but I just never did…” Charles gasps for a breath, trying to stop his sobs from becoming verbal.
“Shh don't cry, it’s okay,” Max soothes, rubbing Charles back gently. He squeezes his eyes shut to suppress his own tears, hearing Charles crying made his heart shatter. Hearing how lonely he was when he moved away makes him so sad, because yes, he was chasing his dreams, but if he had stayed, Max wouldn’t have let him be lonely. Ever.
“But it’s not okay! I should have reached out when I had the chance!” Charles cries, burying his face back into Max’s chest.
“I should have reached out too, Schatje, please don't blame yourself. I had the chance too and I didn’t take it. But I have you now, and you have me for as long as you want me. I’m all yours.” Max says, pressing a flurry of kisses to the top of Charles head in his best effort to soothe him.
“I love you…” Charles mumbles as he slowly but surely falls asleep in the Dutchman's protective hold.
“I love you too, Charlie.”
***
Max wakes up with a start, nearly jumping out of his skin from the dream he was having. Jos had been angry about something, raising his fist into the air and just before it collided with his face, he woke up.
A warm, tight grip surrounds him from behind, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. His face blooms into a large smile when he remembers all the events from yesterday. Charles coming over, Charles kissing him, Charles becoming his boyfriend.
“Mmm, lay still, you are being annoying,” Charles grumbles from where his face is pressed into the middle of Max’s back, snuggling further into the Dutchman’s side.
“Sorry, sorry,” Max apologizes, moving one last time before settling into a more comfortable position. Charles shifts up to snuggle his face into the crook of Max’s neck this time, pressing soft kisses to his pale skin. Max hums at the feeling.
“ ‘ts the time?” Charles asks with a yawn, hiding his face back into the crook of Max’s neck once again. Max reaches over and grabs his phone. “Just after 9.” He says, yawning as well. “Breakfast?” Max asks, feeling as Charles nods against his neck.
Once a little more awake and refreshed, Max makes them each some scrambled eggs on toast, placing Charles' plate down in front of him.
“So I was thinking,” Max starts with a mouth full of eggs, making Charles pull a face at him for talking with food in his mouth, startling a little laugh out of Max who swallows. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, what were you thinking?”
“How about we fly to Silverstone together? I have space on my Jet and I’m sure you have things to do but if you don't already have a ticket you are welcome to fly with me,” Max smiles, shoveling another fork of eggs into his mouth.
Charles contemplates it for a moment, looking at Max who seems to be inhaling his food.
“When are you planning to go? I have meetings on Monday, then I have rehearsals on Tuesday and Wednesday and then a dry run of the whole show on Thursday and on Friday I have the show.” The Monegasque explains, finishing off the rest of his breakfast.
“Why do you need so many practices?” Max frowns, not understanding why Charles is going to be so busy for one single show.
“Well you have 3 practices as well, no? So do I,” He smiles, “And I need to make sure the lights and music and sound system is exactly like how I want it, and my practices aren't just an hour long like yours are, mine takes the whole day. We work on songs, on choreography, on the lights and when and how they should work, there’s a lot that goes on.” Charles explains, finishing off his coffee.
Max hums in response, finishing off his breakfast as well and moving to wash up the dishes. “Then we will fly out on Sunday then, how does that sound?”
“But won't that mess with your plans?” Charles asks, bringing him the rest of the dirty dishes.
“My week only starts on Thursday, so I can spend my free time with you when I can and I didn't have any other plans, I was literally just going to stay home.” Max presses a kiss to his cheek in passing before packing away the now clean dishes.
“Okay, well then I’ll fly with you.” Charles smiles, leaning against the countertop.
Max moves to stand between his legs with his arms resting on either side of Charles so he’s basically caging him in and presses a steamy kiss to Charles’ lips, which the Monegasque returns eagerly.
“A week with you, I can't think of anything better to do.” Max smiles, leaning down for a kiss once again.
This next week is going to be so much fun.