Chapter Text
The lights are bright. Loud. Max can barely see and every figure looks like the next. The drinks he’s had, too many to count, aren’t helping either. He stands in the hallway and fumbles for his jacket, but they all look the same. Black on black and grey on grey. Instead, he starts reaching for the interior pockets of each jacket, where he normally keeps his glasses. Most people rarely use their interior pockets anyway, he’s sure to find his jacket quicker like this.
His drunk mind thinks it’s a good idea, with zero recognition that one is not exactly supposed to go around feeling for things in others’ jackets, especially at the high profile party he’s at. Who knows whose jackets he might be groping? Not him.
He grabs a fluffy jacket that certainly isn’t his, but who even cares anymore, right? It feels nice to touch and there’s no reason to stop. He strokes it a couple times, petting the hood for good measure. What was he here for again? Oh right, his jacket. Time to-
“Verstappen?” A voice behind him says. It’s tinged with an emotion, surprise or confusion, probably. He would’ve jumped had it not been for the softness of the voice. It’s a nice voice. Would he agree to come home with him?
“Yeah?” Max says, smiling for good measure. It never hurts to smile. He should also be facing the person, that’s basic etiquette, but he couldn’t be bothered, unlike the smiling. Smiling is fun-er. He removes his hands from the jacket - goodbye! - and reaches for the next one. It’s not soft, but, when he reaches the interior pocket, there’s a case inside. He takes it out and is about to open it until he is rudely interrupted by the guy who is still standing there for some reason.
“Are you taking someone’s stuff?” He sounds disgusted. That’s mean of him, but expected. Or disappointed. Max can’t tell, but it’s mean of him anyway. People always think he’s evil.
“No!” He shouts, oops. He pouts indiginantly and continues opening the box. “You should not. Assume things about people.” He takes out his glasses and puts them on, finally bothering to face the person he’s now about to start arguing with. He’s confident to win the argument, glasses always make him feel smarter.
It’s Charles.
Leclerc.
Fuck.
“Charles!” And Max’s back to smiling, pushing down the thoughts - oh fuck that’s Charles. Why is he so hot? Why is his voice so hot? Oh my god I want to kiss him - and scrambles to make himself seem tall. He’s taller than Charles, right? Why does he feel so small?
“Are you so drunk that you could not recognize me?” Charles sounds mad. That’s not right. Why isn’t he smiling? He looks so cute when he smiles. He always smiles at Max, that’s their thing.
“It is not. Because I am drunk. It is because . I have my glasses not on. It is very dark. I did not look at you.” Max argues, pausing every couple words. He does not know if he is arguing for the right point, but he is arguing nonetheless. He is not addressing what he wants to say, however. “You should-”
“Max.” He is interrupted, again.
Max continues at a higher volume, ignoring Charles’ interruption. “You are interrupting me a lot, Charlie. I think-”
Once again. It is getting quite annoying.
“Max.” Charles says, louder this time. His face is quite close, actually. His eyes are pretty, wow. The lights are reflected in them. When did he move closer? Max could reach out and touch his chest. He could, and so he does.
Charles sighs, and interrupts his movement - again ! Charles doesn’t let go, though. He keeps holding Max’s hand, and his hands are nice and stable and he-
“Max!” Charles shouldn’t sound so disappointed if he’s the one not letting go. “How are you going home?”
“Outside. Somebody has a car, I think.”
“Do you know what car?”
“Tesla. Model X. Number 35T0. Blue, like the Red Bull Blue. You know, I-”
“No, no, Max, I mean- Whose car?”
“Somebody! I said.”
“Max!”
“What? I can come with you if you want. You would like that more, yes?” He’s leaning forward quite heavily now, almost leaning against Charles. Max wonders if Charles could sustain his whole body weight, he doesn’t want to crush him. He still wants to touch him, though. Charles had let go sometime during their conversation.
“Max!”
“Charlie? Are you okay? You are only saying my name. I like how it sounds, but I know you can speak. Say something, yeah?” He says, smiling at him once more. He reaches out to pluck at Charles’ cheeks in order to get him to speak, but Charles bats his hands away. He doesn’t hold onto them this time. “You can drive me home, okay? I will get my jacket.”
Max turns back to face the wall of jackets. It looks no easier to conquer with glasses on, and now he is missing the case for them too. What matters more, his jacket or Charles? He looks back at Charles, mind made up. “I will not get my jacket. Can we go?”
Charles rolls his eyes, and steps past Max, scanning the wall himself. Oh. He still has to get his own jacket. Max prepares himself for a long wait, almost ready to sit right down on the floor. Maybe he should take that other ride after all.
Charles walks back up to Max. Did he decide to quit too? No, he is holding something. “Unlike you, Max, I pay attention to what I am wearing.” He says smugly, lifting his own jacket over his shoulders. It’s rather large and warm-looking, almost as if it’d be soft to the touch. Huh. That’s the fluffy jacket he was petting earlier.
Max frowns at him. “Can I have the jacket?”
“Are you going to give it back?”
“Why do you care? Just. Give me it.”
Charles heaves another sigh but still takes off the jacket and hands it to him. It takes Max a few moments to figure out how to put it on, and Charles helps him get his arm through one of the sleeves. Seeing as Charles is so fond of repeating himself, he doesn’t let go of his hand this time either. Max freaks out less this time, but still stares at it in wonder for at least a second or two.
“If I let go of this hand, will you still follow me?” Charles asks. He’s been leading them through the door and out onto the parking lot. The question seems a little stupid. Of course Max would, who does he think Max is? But Max is conflicted. If he says yes, will that mean that Charles will let go? If he says no, will he think Max doesn’t want to go? It’s too much work to debate about, so he goes for the truth.
“I do not want you to let go.” Simple. Easy. Straight to the point.
“That is not what I asked, Max.”
“I do not want you to let go… but I will follow you if you do. It would make me annoyed at you though, and I know you do not like me when I am annoyed. I know I get-”
The condensation from his breath fogs up his glasses, and he takes them off to clean. He then hears a cough. An interruption. For the sixth time!
“Okay then.”
And for that only! He is lucky Max thinks he is cute, both under the moonlight and while dragging him through a parking lot. It doesn’t give him much time to look at the other cars, sadly.
Then they’re suddenly in front of a bright red car. It’s the opposite of the Red Bull blue that he was supposed to use. It’s Ferrari red.
It has a very low ride height and the center console is low as well. It’s very fit for slouching on, especially in order to get closer to Charles. He smells nice too, not at all like alcohol. Was he even drinking, or is his nose not working? Maybe he just always smells great, no matter what he spends time around.
The engine starts and the car starts buzzing, almost lulling Max to sleep. He counts gears to keep himself focused on something, but that makes him even more sleepy. Maybe it’s just time to sleep. No use fighting it. They’re in 5th gear by the time he stops registering them.