Chapter Text
“I am going insane.” Charles groaned, head tipping back into the pillows.
Yes, pillows. Plural. He was practically swimming in them. There were so many of them, probably all the ones they owned. Maybe some new additions, bought with the sole intention of healing Charles — or whatever reason Max and Jordan had insisted on stuffing so many behind his back.
“No, you’re not!” It came in unison from outside the door.
Charles wanted to roll his eyes at his husband and child, but remembered that they couldn’t see him. So he waited, arms crossed, until they came back into the bedroom. He had to stop mid eye roll though, barely able to believe what he saw — Max and Jordan carrying their fucking TV, one holding on to either side of the damn flat screen. Max had to crouch a little, which did not look very comfortable, to adjust to Jordan’s height.
It looked ridiculous. It was ridiculous. Charles had to let them know.
“What do you think you are doing?!” He demanded, accent spiking along with his heart rate. “Why are you bringing the TV here? If I want to watch TV, I can go to the living room!”
Jordan and Max exchanged glances, but ignored him for the time being. They had to put the expensive electronics to safety before getting into an argument with the bed-bound Monegasque.
With some effort, they managed to heave the TV onto the dresser across from the bed. Suddenly it dawned on Charles why Max had cleared the thing of all items that had stood on top of it. Or moved it there in the first place. He cursed himself for not having guessed something was up with that.
Damn the pain medication for making his brain all mushy!
“You actually can’t go to the living room to watch TV.” Max said, equal measures careful and stern. Charles didn’t like that tone on him at all. “Because you are to be in bed for at least a week, if not longer.”
“And the TV’s in here now, so, you know… It would be kind of stupid to go to the living room, because there’s no TV to watch there.” Jordan supplied helpfully.
Charles glared at his husband a little longer, before figuring that there was no way to argue with him. He turned to Jordan instead.
“And where will you watch TV, then?”
Jordan looked thrown for a moment. A very short moment. The damn kid was much too bright to fall for Charles’ weak, medication-addled arguments.
“Here. Or not at all. I wanted to cut down on my screen time anyway.”
Charles groaned, burrowing himself further into the mountain of cushions behind him. What kind of child had he raised? One willing to cut down on screen time on her own? That was concerning on levels Charles wasn’t ready to unpack at the moment.
He crossed his arms a little harder, about to pout, but forgot about his broken ribs. The pressure made the ever-present ache flare up and he wasn’t quick enough to cover up the pained whine that bubbled up from his chest. Or the way his face scrunched up and his breath caught.
Max, looking mildly worried, waved a hand at him, “Case and point. You stay in bed.”
“Yes, Sir.” Charles teased breathlessly, still recovering.
Jordan climbed into bed beside him, to take a look at Charles’ chest — he’d forsaken all clothing and covers at the time, the fabric too irritating against his bruised skin, so that was a fairly easy thing to do for her. Her brows furrowed in concentration, eyes examining every inch of purple skin as if she was trying out if it looked better or worse than last time she’d looked at it.
Neither, probably, since she had made it her duty to religiously check on her father every other hour.
Charles cradled the back of her head with a soft chuckle, pulling her against his good side. It was a distraction. All that worrying she was doing couldn’t be good for someone that young. Or anyone really.
Max was doing it, too, if not a little more subtle than their daughter. Charles still noticed, telling him every now and then that he was fine. As fine as he could be at least. And he’d recover. In five weeks.
That was the goal the Monegasque had set himself. That way he’d only miss one race and he’d be back to racing conditions by the time summer break was over.
He hadn’t exactly discussed those plans with his over-bearing family yet as they were, as mentioned, over-bearing and still pretty shaken up. That talk could wait a week or two, so Charles had enough time to prove himself as a recovery-pro.
“So, I know you said you wanted to cut back on screen time, but how about we watch a movie now? I’m pretty bored and-”
“A movie sounds good!”
Charles grinned at the way she perked up, eyes glowing with badly contained excitement. He stretched out a hand, opening and closing it at Max.
“Remote!”
“Yes, your royal Highness.” Max huffed sarcastically, but brought over the remote anyway.
He even sat down with them, pretending not to be interested in the process of movie choices, when that was very far from the truth. Charles could see him making faces from the corner of his eye, prompting him to suggest more and more movies he knew Max would hate.
What he hadn’t expected, however, was Jordan hating every single one of them too. At some point, she’d had enough. She didn’t outright tell Charles or snatch the remote from his hand like he probably would have, but she turned to him, placed her palm on his forehead and made a concerned face.
“Are you sure your head’s alright? Do you have a headache? Or is it the meds?” She asked the questions in rapid succession, making it a little hard for Charles to decipher them all.
Slowly, he pushed her hand away, shaking his head, “No, I am fine. Why?”
Beside them Max snorted. Meanly.
“It’s just… your movie suggestions are kinda…” Jordan paused, seemingly searching for a word that would not offend him. That didn’t leave her with many options. “Uhm, off.”
Charles managed to be offended anyway, “Off?! What do you mean, off?”
Jordan cringed, glancing past Charles to silently ask her dad for some help. Max gladly stepped in and put down his phone, an almost excited little grin on his face. Charles didn’t like it at all.
“Come on, Charlie, you really expect us to watch ‘Lala Land’?”
“What’s wrong with ‘Lala Land’? It’s a beautiful movie!”
“Apart from the fact that Jordan is way too young for it, it’s also fucking boring.”
“No, it is not!” Charles, forgetting all about his ribs, crossed his arms again. Immediately he hissed, but didn’t let the pain stop him this time. “And Jordan being too you has never stopped you from showing her your favourite movies! Or has she not been quoting ‘Star Wars’ characters for the past two years?”
“Would you call ‘Lala Land’ your favourite movie?”
Jordan, getting a little bored, muttered to herself, “Hello there.”
They argued back and forth, which led to Charles tiring himself out with the help of his medication, and falling asleep before they actually decided on a movie. At the sound of his even breaths, Jordan looked up from where she’d been fraying out the ends of her pant leg.
“So, no movie?” She looked a bit disappointed.
“Of course we’re going to watch a movie. A good one.”
“Cars?” Jordan squealed.
Max sighed, too tired to argue about movies again. Believe it or not, but Jordan was even more stubborn than Charles when it came to deciding what she’d give her undivided attention to for the next two hours. Luckily her and Max mostly had the same taste. ‘Cars’ was the only exception.
“Fine, but only if we watch ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ next time.”
“I can live with that.” Jordan agreed and cuddled up to Charles as Max put the movie on.
*
So, Charles might not be a pro at recovery. He proved that the first week.
He just wasn’t built to stay in bed for more than a few hours at a time, sue him!
It was so easy to get bored, despite all the great entertainment he was offered. His body would grow restless, his limbs doing dumb shit on their own and causing Charles quite the pain in the process of their wiggling around. And his mind wasn’t faring much better, craving some stimulation past what movies and social media had to offer.
His first victim was usually Jordan, which Max wasn’t all that happy about.
“She has school work to do!” The Dutchman scolded when he found Jordan sitting next to Charles in the middle of the afternoon, just like the three days before that.
“And I am helping her with it!” Charles lifted the math book Jordan had been bent over to show it to him.
“Hey!” Jordan snatched it right back, furiously erasing the pencil line that decorated half the page.
“You’re distracting her, is what you are doing!” Max stalked over, but didn’t do anything right away.
It did look kind of cute — Jordan sitting criss cross with her body leaned to far forward, she might as well have laid down on her stomach, and Charles draped across the pillows, peering over her shoulder, trying to understand what she was doing — and Max suddenly found himself a lot less mad than he had been a second ago. That didn’t mean he’d let it go, though.
“We’re home schooling her so she can focus better, not for you to bother her into paying you more attention than her education.”
“Non, we are home schooling her because the other children at her school were weird.” Charles retorted.
“Don’t call children weird! That sets a bad example.” Max hissed.
“Fine, we are home schooling her because the children’s parents were weird. Always up in her business to get closer to us.” Charles made a disgusted noise at the memory.
Despite the school’s promise, that Jordan would have the utmost privacy and respect there, it hadn’t really worked out.
Students were either overly friendly to Jordan or really fucking rude. Parents had tried to get their kids to befriend her because they hoped for play dates at her house. Teachers had been weird, more than one asking Max and Charles for autographs when they came to pick her up. And security there had been a nightmare!
Paparazzi had been all over the place. Now, Charles didn’t want to point fingers, but someone (it had definitely been the headmaster) had leaked the information that Jordan was going to that school.
He still felt a little light-headed when he remembered how angry Max had gotten when he’d found out… Anyway, they’d quickly decided to home school her after that. There had been other reasons, too, but Charles hardly remembered.
“We are home schooling me because normal school was boring and I was progressing at a different level than the other kids my age. And because it’s easier to manage my karting schedule and travels that way.” Jordan interrupted them both, face wide with exasperation. “And because they were weird about me being your daughter. And because I focus better when I study by myself. We’re all right, happy?”
Max and Charles were speechless at that, a little stunned as they opened their mouths, looking for something to say. Jordan gave them a long look before sighing loudly.
“Do you always fight that much? Or is it just because Charles is home more right now?”
“What?” They said simultaneously, letting out matching stammers as they grappled for an answer.
Neither of them liked how the situation had turned on them. How much more mature Jordan seemed in comparison to them. Something had to be done about it.
“We’re not fighting.” Max protested weakly, but Charles was right there to back him up.
“We’re bickering, that’s all. It’s healthy.”
“Right...” Jordan rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to her math book. But of course she couldn’t let them off that easily, huffing one last, sarcastic, “Now you agree with each other.”
“Hey!” Max snapped.
“Rude!” Charles complained.
When their eyes met, they both had to hold back laughter. They weren’t sure where it came from, but suddenly it seemed funny to them. Their kid was pretty funny. The kid they raised.
Eh, why had they been mad at each other in the first place? Jordan was doing her school work and they… Yeah, they’d acted a little stupid. Max leaned forward and Charles grinned, closing his eyes as their lips connected. A hand came up to the side of Charles’ face. He leaned into it instinctively, deepening the kiss and-
“No!”
There was a loud thud — a book snapping shut — and the mattress shifted under the weight of someone leaving the bed rather hurriedly. They broke apart just in time to see a Jordan-shaped figure rushing out of the door.
“Jordi!” Max laughed.
“We just kissed!”
“Not next to my math book!” She shouted back, already too far gone to hear them snicker into each other’s shoulders. Good.
If she had heard, one of them definitely would’ve been hit over the head with that big book. Probably Max, because Charles was still injured.
Maybe this whole thing did have its advantages.
*
Charles woke up in the middle of the night for absolutely no reason.
The bed next to him was empty. It wasn’t weird or unusual.
Max would often stay up late and, since Charles was a light sleeper, he had the courtesy of staying in the guest bedroom on those nights. This was, apparently, one of those nights. So, why had Charles-
As his senses slowly powered up, Charles sensed something on his chest. Light and warm. He glanced down, making out the faint outline of a hand, which was firmly pressed to the centre of his chest.
He followed it all the way up to a small body sitting next to him, curled up and turned away from him. It wasn’t the first time Charles woke up to the sight since his return from the hospital, so he didn’t even startle.
It didn’t mean Jordan’s new habit of waking up, sneaking over to his room to quietly feel his breathing to make sure he was still enough, didn’t worry him. It worried him a lot actually and he wished she’d at least wake him up, so she didn’t just… have to do this by herself. It was the third time this happened.
Or rather, the third time Charles woke up to catch her. He didn’t know if there were night where he slept through it and…
“Mon étoile?” He asked quietly, trying not to give her a scare.
Jordan flinched anyway, moving an inch to the side, only her hand staying in place. She sucked in a shaky breath, immediately going for an apology, like she always did when she behaved like a normal child.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to wa-”
“It’s okay, come here.” Charles wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his chest. This time, he barely even felt his ribs protesting the action. “Cauchemar?”
("Nigthmare?")
Jordan hesitated for a moment, before nodding against Charles’ neck. Inch by inch, her taut muscles began to relax, aided by Charles’ healthy hand rubbing circles across her back. It had become a ritual, of sorts. Or it was on the best way there with the amount of time nights like this occurred lately.
Charles wondered if…
“Do you always have nightmares? About the accident?”
“Which one?”
“The one you were in. I know you used to have them a lot after it first happened, always crawled into bed with us after you had them…” Charles smiled sadly at the memory. It seemed so long ago now. “I assumed you didn’t have them anymore after you stopped doing that.”
Jordan’s thinking was practically audible in the dark. It was an answer in itself, but Charles waited, giving her her time to choose her words. She was always so diplomatic when it came to discussing her well-being. He blamed it on Max. He was the same way.
“They are worse now.”
“So you still had them? Even before my crash?”
There was a pause. Jordan froze, clearly not having thought that Charles would pick her carefully crafted half-truth apart in a second. She nuzzled further into his neck before nodding again.
“Oh, ma petite étoile.” Charles hummed, because he knew Jordan loved the nickname. Or, she preferred it over being called baby. “Why did you never tell us? You know you could have, right?”
“I do, I just… It felt stupid. I was getting too big to still sleep in your bed just because… I had a nightmare.” Jordan’s tone was getting defensive, a little stubborn, too.
Kissing the side of her head, Charles pulled her in tighter. It felt absolutely perfect. Just like it used to. He didn’t think that was something that would never change, whether Jordan was eight or eighteen.
“But look at you. I’m holding you in my arms and it seems perfectly right.” He argued softly.
“Sure, but…” She couldn’t think of a good argument, so she shook her head and surrendered.
They lay there for a while, finding enough comfort in each other to skip words altogether. Charles almost thought Jordan had fallen asleep, when she suddenly pulled back just enough to look up at him.
“Just… promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Put on inters next time it rains when you’re on the track. No matter how little rain there is.”
That stunned Charles, his mouth open as his head still tried to wrap itself around the fact that Jordan already knew he was going back to racing after he recovered. It was a fact to her, not something she wanted to try and change his mind about.
And, oh, how he’d expected her to try. Part of him had already accepted that if, with enough tears and pleading, she really didn’t want him to, Charles would quit for her. He wouldn’t have been mad at her for it.
After losing her mother to a horrible crash and seeing one of her fathers nearly fall to the same fate, it would have been the most understandable thing in the world if Jordan never wanted him to step foot near a race car ever again.
But Charles had once again forgotten to take Jordan’s maturity into consideration.
“You know I’ll go back?” He asked anyway, not very eloquently, either.
Jordan shrugged, “I could never ask you not to.”
“Yes, you could.” Charles tried to sound confident, but the words weighed on his tongue too heavily, coming out too slowly to be convincingly. It didn’t mean he didn’t stand behind them.
He would quit if she really wanted it.
“No, I don’t. Because you’d never ask me to stop karting, right? Even if I get into a bad crash some day.”
“Well-” If Charles thought about it like that…
Actually, he’d go insane if he pictured it. His little baby sitting in some metal trap as she raced towards the barriers, nothing but some too-thin suit and a helmet to protect her-
“No,” Jordan interrupted his train of thought, placing a firm hand on his cheek. “I will not ask you to stop racing and you won’t ask me either. We let each other make our decisions and we deal with our feelings about it.”
Fine. Charles could get on board with that. For now. Maybe they could re-evaluate this solution once Jordan was a little older, driving much faster karts.
“On the topic of dealing with our feelings; I want you to stop coming here at night and sitting silently as you listen to my breathing.”
“Oh…” Jordan inched back further, voice small and apologetic.
Charles recognised his mistake a little too late and slapped a hand across his face. Merde, these meds were going to be the death of him. English was hard enough as it was, he didn’t need an extra handicap added to it.
“Non, I mean, you have to wake me up from now on. So we can talk like we did right now. It’s the healthy way of dealing with your feelings.”
“Okay…” Jordan sighed, settling back on his chest then. When she spoke up again, her voice was laced with amusement, “Do you think dad would approve? We’d probably wake him up too.”
“Your father has his own issues to deal with.” Charles said pointedly.
“Okay.” Jordan yawned. Time to get back to sleep.
“Good night, Jordi.”
“Good night, papa.”
*
Charles didn’t think it possible for his personal nurses to become any more clingy as it was, but as it turned out, he had been very wrong. As — as soon as the doctor gave him the all-clear to walk around again — at least one of them would be plastered to his side at all times. It was as adorable as it was annoying.
“Mon cœur, s'il te plaît!” Charles did his best to shove Max back without accidentally hurting himself in the process.
(My heart, please!")
Max barely budged, immediately circling an arm around his husband's waist, because somehow Charles had ended up being the one stumbling dangerously. He huffed, trying to keep some of his dignity by turning up his nose and pointedly looking to the side.
“If you could just give me some space…” He tried again, but Max stayed right where he was, gaze set on Charles with unmovable focus. “Please…”
That got Max to back off. A tiny step, but it was enough. Charles exhaled in relief and sagged against the kitchen counter. Breathing was easier all of a sudden. When he looked back at Max, he found him glancing at him wearily, worry and self-consciousness tinging the blue eyes.
“Sorry, I’m just…” Max wrung his hands, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I worry too much, I know.”
And somehow Charles felt like an ass now. Great.
The urge to comfort Max was, unfortunately, stronger than the joy over his newly gained freedom. So, he sighed and closed the step between them. He leaned against Max, joining his hands behind the Dutchman’s back, effectively looking him in the embrace.
He pressed a soft kiss to his lips, once again appreciating that they were the same height. No neck-straining or back-bending involved. It was so simple and lovely and…
He moved a hand to the back of Max’s neck, applying just a little pressure. Max knew exactly what his husband wanted of him and tilted his head to the side, allowing him to deepen the kiss. The rhythm of it was familiar, yet it had never become boring.
Charles’ stomach still flooded with warmth at the soft sounds emerging from Max’s chest.
He still loved the way he’d go all warm and pliant under his touch.
And he could still surprise him with a little bit of force, knowing Max loved a little man-handling. He opted for the nearest fixture — the kitchen counter — to shove Max against. Thanks to his medication muddling his already love-drunk brain, he slightly miscalculated his strength, though.
They both winced. Max at the sharp sting the impact between his spine and the kitchen counter caused and Charles at the throbbing ache in his ribcage, which had collided with Max’s body a little too hard.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Charles trailed off when Max ducked his head, leaving delicate kisses along the column of his throat. His head tipped back on its own, offering more space to be tended to. “Mh, Max-”
“What?”
He felt Max grin again his skin, the feeling of it nearly driving him insane. Charles desperately wanted to give in, but-
“What about-” His voice gave in when Max nipped at the sensitive spot right behind his ear. He forced his mouth closed, swallowing the moan that tried to escape.
“She’s karting, remember? Arthur picked her up an hour ago.”
“Oh… stupid medication.” Charles wasn’t really mad at them this time, though, much too distracted. His blood was currently flowing south, far away from his brain.
“We’ve got all the time in the world.” Max purred, hand sliding under the hem of Charles’ sweater, bracketing his waist. “Let me take care of you for once. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“Don’t be.” Charles gasped.
His hand shot out, closing around Max’s neck without squeezing. He just needed to stop him from going on his knees right there, in the middle of the kitchen. They might be alone, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling of someone coming at any moment.
It created a break long enough for him to regain his composure and allow him to get into his usual headspace. The one where he called the shots, not Max.
Max watched the change happen, mouth twisting into a small, satisfied smile.
“Bedroom, now.” Charles ordered, voice rough with need. It had been too long.
“Whatever you want.”
And didn’t Charles like the sound of that?
*
Somewhere around the three week mark, Charles was able to do light work out again. And by that he meant long walks and wrist training — there was a lot of that as it was the first thing that needed to be fixed properly. Many drivers had driven with broken ribs, but a compromised wrists? That was a whole different story.
Jordan, on the other hand, was delighted about the walks. She always complained about wanting to go outside more — even though she already went at least twice a day. Charles didn’t point that out, glad for the company as he walked the daily amount of kilometers his doctor and trainer had recommended.
And it gave Max a chance to do his own stuff at home and get some time to himself.
They talked about every and anything on those walks. It was truly fascinating how much Jordan could talk once she got going. Charles enjoyed every second of it because he knew she wasn’t like this around everybody. Only the people she really felt comfortable around.
“How much longer?” She asked around the end of the week.
“Uhm, like a kilometre, I think-”
“Nooo!” Jordan laughed as if it was obvious that she hadn’t meant the distance back to their place. “I mean, how long until you go racing again?”
“Oh! If my recovery goes as planned, which it does so far, then in a week. First race after the summer break.”
“So for Monza?” Jordan grinned. “The Tifosi will love that.”
“I believe so too.”
Oh, how they’d love it. Their golden boy — il Predestinato, Prince of Ferrari and their first World Champion in over eighteen years — coming back to race after his harrowing crash on an Italian track? They’d probably introduce a new national holiday for the occasion.
Okay, that was a little too egotistical. Thank god Charles had said none of it out loud.
Jordan still seemed to have seen some of the smugness on his face as she elbowed him in the hip and laughed. “You love the attention, don’t you?”
“I… Yes, fine, I do! But I can’t help it. They loved me for years, long before I ever won a championship for them. You get a little drunk off that type of love.”
Her face turned thoughtful at that.
“Do you think I'll ever… I mean, I don’t want to drive for Ferrari, but do you think I’ll ever make it that far?” She asked.
“Of course!” Charles answered too quickly. He knew he had because of the dismay on his daughter’s face.
She valued brutal honesty above all else. Especially when it came to her racing career.
“I mean, you are on the best way to, but… things can happen. I believe you will. And so does your dad.”
Jordan nodded, “Do you hope I will?”
“I hope you’ll do whatever makes you happy. That is the only thing I expect from you.”
They smiled at each other and Jordan nodded, satisfied with the answer.
*
Jordan and Max stood pressed side by side as they stood in the Ferrari garage for the first time in over a month. It wasn’t for a lack of space — FP1 hadn’t even started yet — they simply needed the closeness for comfort.
Charles was about to get in his car for the first time since the crash and they were… nervous. Yes, only nervous. Nervous was fine. It could be dealt with. Downright fear, however, that would be a little harder to get rid of.
Good thing neither of them were downright terrified, right?
Jordan still wrapped her arms around Max’s hip, just to be safe. And Max’s fingers combing through Jordan’s long hair soothingly was done for the same reason. Just to be safe.
When Charles stepped into the garage, eyes finding them immediately, he chuckled softly and made his way over.
“You two okay?” He asked, properly laughing at the way they jumped.
“Yes!” They said in unison, forcing themselves to smile like everything was right with the world.
No one had any lingering traumas from watching Charles get into a crash. Nuh-uh. All good here.
“Well, then I guess you don’t need a hug before I get ready for Free Practice?” Charles arched a brow.
There was some hesitation, some stubborn pretending-to-be-fine, but a moment later the Monegasques arms were filled with his husband and daughter. They clung to him like a lifeline, not letting go until Charles had kissed their heads at least five times each and promised them they’d see him again in an hour. In one piece and not the backseat of a medical car.
He made sure they were absolutely certain of it.