Chapter Text
Charles is stressed. Ferrari barely gave him a chance to rest before he was called over to Maranello and the testing was brutal. After that disqualification they’ve become even more intense. Charles must have done the Suzuka race in the sim over 100 times. There's being prepared and then there's being obsessive. Charles is only obsessed with two things in life: winning and Max Verstappen. Now the sim practice helps with the first, but the second one is who’s currently plaguing his mind.
He actually received a couple of texts from Max in the few weeks between the races. The first one was just him commiserating with him over the disqualification. Charles didn’t expect it but he wasn’t really surprised, Max has always been considerate when it comes to stuff like that. The second one though, well that is one of the reasons Charles is so damned stressed out.
From: Mon Amour
Can we talk after Japan? Please, I just need to talk to you x
No one likes the ‘we need to talk’ message, and that's usually when things are in a good place. With him and Max though it’s already a mess, and with Max avoiding him in China, and then sending a message like that, that also sounds desperate, almost fearful – which is silly as Charles would never say no to Max – he just can’t calm his racing heart. He has no idea if it’s a good or a bad thing and he's terrified. Still, he agrees.
To: Mon Amour
Of course we can mon petit lion x
That anxiety follows him to Japan and through practice. Everything happens on autopilot. He doesn't even notice he's going through the motions until he hears the ‘thats p3’ over the radio and he snaps back into focus. He's thankful for all the sim practice right then as he’s pretty sure without it that could have gone horrible wrong. It makes his heart slam in his chest. Merde! He's got to focus for the rest of the weekend and try to get Max off his mind. That is much easier said than done though when he is somehow everywhere.
Literally everywhere. It’s either promotional stuff with Max or for the special livery they’re using for this race as it's the last Japan race with Honda, or the man himself in said livery’s race suit which is just doing things to Charles. Max in white is apparently a weakness of his, just one more to add to the already frankly far too long list. Max is awash with media because it's such a special race for red bull so Charles is more than pleasantly surprised when Max manages to flutter past him with a squeeze to his shoulder and a smile that feels like a promise. Charles doesn’t have the time to say anything as the film crew following Max push past him stretching the distance between them, but Charles is suddenly not so anxious about whatever it is Max wants to say to him. That smile told Charles more in the brief seconds it was on Max’s face than any he's witnessed before.
Qualifying sees him get p4 while Max gets pole. The first of the year for Max and Charles feels proud for him. This is an important race for Max and red bull and seeing him succeed always makes Charles feel good. It’s Charles’ best qualifying result of the year so far too and it feels a little like everything is finally lining up how it should. Both of them excelling on the track and hopefully after that talk tomorrow maybe excelling in love too.
Charles takes that hope into the race on Sunday. It’s a hard race but that hope was never misplaced. He didn’t make the podium, but he did his absolute best and p4 is still worthy of all that hard work, and honestly more than Charles expects from the Ferrari at this point. When he hears over the radio that Max got p1 he does a little victory cheer for him, thankfully the mic is off so no one hears, probably wouldn’t be ideal.
That hope stays with him while he watches Max on the podium, smiling brightly and accepting the champagne shower that rains down on him. It stays through debriefing, through to him heading back to the hotel. It shines even brighter when he gets the invitation from Max.
From: Mon Amour
You’re coming to the winners party, yes? x
To: Mon Amour
Am I welcome? x
From: Mon Amour
You’re always welcome, Charlie x
To: Mon Amour
Then I’ll be there x
From: Mon Amour
Don’t drink too much, we still need to talk after. I’ll be waiting x
To: Mon Amour
Can’t wait ❤️
Charles spends much longer than is necessary getting ready. He can’t decide what to wear. He doesn’t even come with many options when he travels for the races as the less to pack the better. This is important though, this could be the night it all changes for him – for them – it has to be right. He finally settles on his favourite jeans and a white linen shirt, leaving the top few buttons open. He tries to tame the curls on his head but they seem to be extra wild tonight so he just goes for artfully messing them up. He adds his usual rings, chucks on a jacket and he's out the door before he can second guess himself anymore.
When he arrives Max isn’t there yet so he makes his way to the bar, getting himself a drink before he spots Oscar on the dancefloor. He’s not much of a dancer but it gives him something to do while he's waiting for Max and moving around will help with the nervous energy that's buzzing under his skin. He finishes his first drink, orders a second and pushes through the crowd to get to Oscar. Oscar has some friends with him that Charles doesn’t know but they welcome him with open arms.
It's there he stays until Max finds him.
❀❀❀❀
It takes a week for Max to get the courage up – and sort out the mess in his head – to message Charles about finally talking this out.
To: Mijn Liefje
Can we talk after Japan? Please, I just need to talk to you x
He places the phone screen down after sending, he may have found the courage to send it but the fear of the reply is enough to make him want to hide away. Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait long, mere minutes before his phone is buzzing on the counter. He flips it over, tapping on the notification so he can see it.
From: Mijn Liefje
Of course we can mon petit lion x
The relief that rushes over Max has him almost collapsing onto the floor. He doesn’t even acknowledge the silly little nickname, he should probably get used to it. If this works out he’ll most likely be hearing it a lot, even if he protests it. In fact, knowing Charles, if he protests it he’ll just do it more. Thats not important right now though, what is, is figuring out what the fuck he actually wanst to say to Charles, because if he goes in unprepared he will just stumble his words and that’ll be embarrassing.
Max arrives in Japan days before any of the other teams and their drivers do, giving him plenty of time to play around with the car in its special livery before anyone else sees it. It's odd driving a white car but he enjoys the change. The colour seems suited to this weekend too. Like a clean slate, starting anew, the colour of a blank canvas he’s ready to fill with Charles by his side. He’s so ready to put all the pieces together.
First he must get through all the chaos that Japan brings. For red bull and Honda this is the end of an era, the last ever home race for Honda which means Max’s schedule either has him in the car or in some sort of media frenzy, there's no inbetween. Practice comes and goes, the results aren’t great but he's just kind of playing around in the car, it's not important to anything else over the weekend anyway and he needs a break from the stress of the media. Charles does outstanding in it though, flying around the track, in his element. Max loves seeing him like that, proving how powerful a driver he is even in that shit box of a Ferrari.
Max spots Charles outside Ferrari as he’s about to pass by, some camera crew following him for whatever reason – he can’t remember and doesn’t really care. He diverts towards Charles, the need to touch him overwhelming him but it can only be casual as his every move is probably being recorded. He waits until Charles turns around and faces his way, even slowing down his walk to make sure they line up as he walks past so he can smile at him as he claps his hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly as he keeps walking. A friendly gesture on the outside, however he knows Charles understood, feels the depth of it.
Qualifying goes as smoothly as possible – pole – and Max is thankful. He feels almost lighter than he has since the start of the season. He's not just being brave in the car, he's being brave in life too, chasing what he wants on and off the track for quite possibly the first time in his life. He feels like that should be the sort of revelation that makes you nervous, however all it does is give him a sense of calm.
Race day comes and that calm follows Max. It’s like he's seeing everything with perfect clarity. He moves through the day with that quiet confidence that he's doing the correct thing. He wins the race, the perfect farewell to Honda in their home country. Just more confirmation he’s doing the right thing.
He sees Charles watching him on the podium, smile bright and eyes gleaming. He wants to go to him now, to talk, he doesn’t even get barely a second to himself after the race however so he settles for inviting Charles to the celebrations later with a promise to talk after.
Max gets so held up at the track that he doesn’t even make it back to the hotel to shower and change until after the party has already started. He rushes to get ready, not allowing himself any time to second guess himself. He ditches the red bull polo at least, that's good enough for everyone. It's not like he plans to stay dressed for much longer after he and Charles have their talk anyway. Optimistic maybe, but his desire is not getting any less the longer this is dragged out.
He has a one track mind as soon as he steps in the club. Before he finds Charles he gets dragged to the bar, none of them taking no for an answer as he tries to escape. He manages to get away a few shots later, a pleasant buzz under his skin, simmering, ready to be ignited. He scans the room, eyes darting around until he sees Charles, his back is to the bar but Max would recognise him from any angle. What he doesn’t recognise though is the person he's dancing with. Max pushes through the crowd to get closer. As he does he gets a better look at the scene in front of him, at this nobody who has decided to slide their hands onto Charles’ hips and his stomach lurches. Oh hell fucking no. Big fucking mistake.
That simmer is now a raging fire. A raging angry possessive dutch fire.
This, this is why they need to talk, Max can’t keep seeing shit like this, intentional or not. Charles is his and he's about to mark his territory.
Max reaches them in less than two strides, and he stops right behind Charles. He catches Oscar’s eyes briefly and he sees the slight fear and then disbelief flash over his face. Fuck who knows. He clenches his jaw, swallows and bends down, mouth next to Charles’ ear as his hands wrap around his waist, tugging him back into Max’s chest and away from the guy who had the audacity to ever think Charles would even want him near him. Charles stumbles and falls into Max, leaning almost all his weight against him. Max doesn’t even react, sturdy and unmoving. Max doesn’t give him a chance to turn his head, one of his hands sliding up over Charles’ chest and neck to rest against his jaw, holding his head in place.
“You belong to me. No more of these stupid fucking games, amour.” Max whispers directly into Charles’ ear, feeling his whole body shudder.
Good.
“You have two choices. One: I let go, you keep dancing with whoever the fuck that is and I walk out of your life for good. I’ll take the hint. Or two: I show everyone in here who you really belong to. Now, which one will it be?” Every word is laced with possession, with the anger and hurt Max has been feeling the last month. This is it.
“So Charles, one or two, hmm?”
Charles’s hand reaches up to his holding his jaw, fingers gently pulling it down so he can step away. Max’s stomach drops to the floor. Charles is pulling away from him. Before any real thought or panic can form, Charles is turning to face him. The green of his eyes almost engulfed by his pupils, his cheeks flushed such a rosy red and the greatest of smiles on his face.
“Two.”
Max doesn’t need to be told twice. He reaches out for Charles again, one hand grabbing his waist, the other sliding to the back of his head, sinking into soft brown curls and tugging him forward and smashing their lips together. It's far from gentle – it’s all consuming. It’s love, lust, pain, longing, devotion. It’s everything. Max pulls Charles as close as possible, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, wanting more and Charles just lets him take, mouth parting for him. All the sound around them fades to nothing. All that matters right now, is here, them, this moment.
Charles grabs onto Max, arms sliding around his neck and fingers digging into his shoulders trying to anchor himself to Max. He never wants to let go. He whimpers when Max’s hands start sneaking under his shirt, the heat of Max’s palm on his skin feeling like a brand.
Max reluctantly parts from Charles’ lips and rests their foreheads together. He looks at Charles, lips kiss swollen and shiny, chest heaving and eyes deep pools of adoration. He doesn’t give anyone a second glance, he just lifts Charles up and Charles seems to have read his mind as he's wrapping his legs around Max and then he’s walking away from everyone with his Charles in his arms.
They barely make it outside the venue before Max slams Charles against a wall, diving right back in and devouring him again. Max’s lips leave Charles’ to start mapping a path across his jaw and down his throat, stopping at the junction of his neck, right above his collar bone and then he sucks, hard. Charles whimpers in his hold, one hand reaching up to grip onto Max’s hair, pushing him even closer if that's humanly possible.
“Merde Max, unless you’re gonna fuck me here, take me home.” Charles' voice already sounds destroyed and nothing has even happened yet. Max smirks into Charles’ neck, licking the already purpling bruise.
“I did say I’d show everyone who you belong to. What better way than fucking you against this wall?” Max punctuates his point by grinding slowly, purposefully right against Charles’ dick.
Charles moans unrestrained.
“Bed. Now.” He demands.
“Your wish is my command, schat.”