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Max first heard of the mention that Charles had released a single a couple of days after the Australian GP. He had smiled politely at the fans who kept badgering him about if he had listened to it, shaking his head at them and hurrying away as subtly as he could.
It hadn’t taken him long to get back to his hotel and pull up youtube as soon as he got through the door. He had known Charles had been talking about releasing some music that he was playing on his piano but he hadn’t actually thought he would go through with it. Especially with the small amount of time he had as a formula one driver.
The first trickles of piano fluttered through his speakers and Max lay down on his bed, shutting his eyes as he let the music play through. It clutched at his heart and soothed out all the tension he had in his muscles, allowing him to relax even further into the soft mattress.
By the time it had finished, Max was asleep, a smile plastered onto his face and dreaming of things he knew he could never have.
—
It had been a week later when the song got brought up in an interview that him, Charles and Fernando were in. Max tensed immediately, frozen in his seat with a worried smile on his face. He glanced over at Charles who looked tired but pleased and surprised by the praise to his talent on the piano. Fernando was looking at Max with a concerned look but Max just shut himself off as soon as he saw.
“Ah, well, it's written about my feelings during Australia but also about a person as well. I don’t think they have listened to it but that is okay.” Charles was frowning now as he spoke. Max looked away guiltily when his brain supplied him with the idea of soothing out those wrinkles on Charles’ beautiful face.
A person.
A person that wasn’t him. Clearly. “That person is unlucky then,” Max said without even thinking, “It is a beautiful song and they haven’t had their view changed because of it.” Charles had looked over at him with wide eyes which Max then responded with a soft smile.
—
It had been Fernando who came to find him after the interview. He had entered into the Red Bull lounge just as Max was draining a glass of champagne that had been thrust into his hands. Max looked towards him with a raised brow, unsure of why nobody had stopped the Aston Martin driver from entering. “What are you doing here?” Max snapped at him, placing the empty glass on a random table and taking a seat beside it.
“You did listen to Charles today right?” It frustrated Max that Fernando never pronounced Charles’ name right. Always that stupid posh way to say it, never like Sharl. He doesn’t know why he gets so annoyed when Charles himself has said that he doesn’t mind how people say his name. “Max?” Fernando’s voice dragged him back from the rambling he was doing in his head.
“Yeah, ‘course I did. It was hard not to when that was the only question he was asked.” Max looked up to see that same concerned face on Fernando’s face that he had been wearing in the interview. “What?” Max snapped for the second time that day.
Fernando shook his head and walked out, slowly, as if waiting for Max to call him back. Max was stubborn; he didn’t call him back.
—
It happened all over again after the Miami GP. Some fans asked Max about Charles’ newest song. Max walked - speedily - away, put the song on once he got into his hotel room and fell asleep to it once again. He was getting slightly sick at the feelings that were pushing themself up and out of him every time someone mentioned Charles now, not that they were new or anything. He had been able to discard them for a while and they had gone willingly, laying dormant until the completely wrong times when Charles was utterly radiating confidence even though he had only got P7 in the race.
He bumped into said Monegasque driver a couple of days after listening to the song. “Charles.” Max breathed out, trying desperately hard not to check out Charles. It was clear he had been training or something that caused him to use energy because Charles was sweaty and breathless and had rosy cheeks and a big grin that Max would definitely not be thinking of the rest of the day. “I listened to your new music.” He spoke again, ignoring the break in his voice.
“Oh.” Charles took a sip from the water bottle he was holding. “Did you like it?” He sounded nervous. What did he have to be nervous about? Max was Max, not that special. Charles didn’t wait for a response, he didn’t seem to have even noticed Max opening his mouth to answer. “I think I rushed it, but I was very overloaded with feelings and I needed to get it into my music and-”
Max would deny everything that happened from this point on if anybody asked him what had happened. Charles was rambling and Max couldn’t think properly, his brain turned to mush. Which is what he tells himself every time he remembers what he did. Max grabbed both sides of Charles’ face and pulled him towards him, closing the gap that was between him. Charles made a confused noise, but even so melted into the kiss. It was soft, Charles tasting of strawberries (ironic considering he has a strawberry red car) and, and…
God, he just tasted like home really.
Eventually, they both needed to breathe and the two pulled apart. Charles looked, well, thoroughly kissed. His lips were swollen and his cheeks were burning even brighter than they had been when Max bumped into him.
“I liked the song, Charles.” Max smiled, uncontrollably happy. “It is beautiful.” “You always do that.” Charles croaked out. A small smile made its way onto his face. “You always say something is something, not that it was. Like it continues to mean a lot to you.” He looked into Max’s eyes and pulled him towards him again. Max went willingly, dropping his head on Charles’ shoulder as warm arms wrapped themselves around him. “Thank you, Max.”
Max is happy. He hopes Charles will be too.