Work Text:
-Winter Flower-
Charles couldn't believe it himself. Had he just received a text from the man who now proclaimed himself as his husband? The way Max typed "Schatje" made Charles feel as if he could hear Max's voice echoing in his mind, a sensation that both thrilled and unnerved him.
Max: Sweetheart, I’m coming home late. Do you need anything?
Fuck. Fuck. Charles thought about how the man couldn't be more domestic than this.
Charles: typing
Charles: Just come home, I miss you.
Max: Charles, you can’t say something like that while I’m barely containing myself.
Charles: I’m sorry, take care, amore.
The muffled scream that filled the air of their penthouse was one of sheer frustration and longing. "Jesus! I can't be crazier than this," Charles muttered to himself, his heart pounding in his chest. He hurriedly went to the bedroom, his mind a whirl of emotions and desires, because Max was now airing live on Dutch media. As he entered the room, he flicked on the television. The screen illuminated the dim space, and there was Max, looking as dashing and composed as ever, speaking in fluent Dutch. Charles didn't understand a word, but he didn't need to, luckily, they gave English subtitles for the whole interview. The sight of Max, the way his eyes sparkled with intelligence and charisma, was enough to send a shiver down his spine.
Charles lay on the bed, his thoughts drifting to their wedding day. He could still remember the way Max's hand felt in his, the warmth that spread through him when their eyes met. It was as if fate had conspired to bring them together. Now, lying alone in their penthouse, Charles could feel the ache of Max's absence. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the feel of Max's body next to his, the weight of his arm draped over him, the soft murmur of his breath as he slept. The longing was almost unbearable.
The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Charles from his thoughts. He opened the door to find a group of men standing there, their stern expressions softened only slightly by the gleaming briefcases they held. At the forefront stood a lawyer.
"Good evening, Mr. Leclerc," the lawyer began, offering a polite nod. "I am here under Mr. Verstappen’s instruction to discuss the division of assets."
Charles blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Assets? What do you mean?"
The lawyer's face remained impassive, but there was a hint of understanding in his eyes. "Mr. Verstappen has made arrangements to ensure that you are well taken care of. We are here to go over the details and answer any questions you might have."
Charles stepped aside, allowing the men to enter. They filed into the living room, placing their briefcases on the coffee table and setting to work with a practiced efficiency. Papers were spread out, legal jargon explained, and signatures required in various places.
As the lawyer detailed the extensive provisions Max had made, Charles felt a swell of feeling wash over him. Max had thought of everything, from the penthouse they shared to investments and funds that would secure his future. It was captivating and touching, a tribute to Max's deep care and foresight.
"Mr. Verstappen wanted to make sure that you would be protected and comfortable, no matter what happens," the lawyer said, his tone gentle yet firm. "He has set up trusts, accounts, and properties in your name. Everything has been arranged with meticulous care."
Charles nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "He’s always been like this," he murmured, more to himself than to the lawyer. "Always looking out for me, always planning ahead."
The lawyer smiled faintly. "It's clear that he loves you very much."
They spent the next hour going through the paperwork, with Charles signing where necessary and asking questions when he needed clarification. By the end of it, the enormity of what Max had done left him feeling both grateful and humbled.
As the lawyer and his associates prepared to leave, Charles walked them to the door. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
The lawyer nodded. "You're welcome, Mr. Leclerc. If you have any further questions or need assistance, please do not hesitate to contact us. Your… husband wanted to ensure you have all the support you need."
With that, they left, and Charles was alone once more in the spacious penthouse. He stood there for a moment, absorbing the weight of what had just transpired. Max had done all this for him, and he would honour that by living fully and bravely, cherishing every moment they had together.
He returned to the living room, glancing at the papers now neatly stacked on the table. His phone buzzed with another message from Max.
Max: Everything sorted? I hope it wasn’t too overwhelming.
Charles: Yes, all sorted. Thank you for everything. I don’t know what to say.
Max: Just say you love me.
Charles: I love you Max, more than words can express.
Max: That’s all I need to hear. See you soon, Schatje.
Charles muttered to himself, trying to make sense of it all. He must be crazy from all of this. Nothing had changed in Max's behaviour; if anything, he seemed even more obsessed with Charles than before. Being the object of Max Verstappen’s love and sincerity truly changed everything. Charles couldn’t believe he was in love with such a person.
Suddenly, Leo barked from the kitchen, his playful yaps echoing through the penthouse. The dog bounded into the living room, bursting with energy and zooming around the furniture. Charles chuckled breathlessly at the sight, scooping Leo up in his arms and carrying him to the bedroom.
"I missed him, Leo," Charles said, his voice soft and tinged with longing. "Did he really leave me just three days after the wedding to go back to work?"
Leo wagged his tail, looking up at Charles with his big, adoring eyes. Charles smiled, scratching behind the dog's ears. "He could have postponed everything and stayed with me," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Am I being unreasonable here? He’s working, Charles."
He sighed, flopping back onto the bed with Leo nestled against his side. The dog’s presence was a small comfort, but it couldn’t fill the void that Max’s absence had left. Charles stared at the ceiling, replaying their brief but intense time together as newlyweds. The memories were bittersweet, a mix of joy and a longing that seemed to gnaw at him.
"I know he loves me," Charles said, almost as if trying to convince himself. "He’s doing what he has to do. He’s thinking about our future."
Leo barked again, almost as if in agreement, and Charles chuckled, rubbing the dog’s belly. "You’re right, Leo. I need to be patient. He’ll be back soon, and then we can make up for lost time."
It was 6 A.M., and Charles had just finished his shower after a refreshing morning jog. The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of brewing coffee and sizzling pancakes. Leo, ever the faithful companion, nuzzled Charles's feet, seeking attention and the occasional morsel. The television in the corner replayed Max's interview, fragments of it catching Charles's ear as he moved about. On the screen, Max's voice carried a warm, familiar tone.
"I’m so sorry, I can’t do that. My partner won’t like it."
The interviewer pressed further; curiosity evident in their voice. "We never knew, do you think your partner watches this?"
Max laughed, a sound that made Charles’s heart flutter. "No, haha. My beloved is too busy because of work, probably fell asleep as this aired."
The interviewer smiled, sensing a story. "What a sweet man you are. Do you care to explain your relationship with your partner then? The one who made the reigning world champion head over heels?"
"Uh- haha. A lovely person, very lovely." The camera zoomed in on Max's face, capturing the soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Oh, lords, he’s so damn in love with me, Charles thought, his heart swelling with pride and affection.
Lost in the moment, Charles failed to notice the pancake beginning to burn. The realization hit him as the smell of char filled the kitchen. "Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, hurriedly flipping the pancake, but it was too late. The damage was done. The interview wrapped up with the host's enthusiastic sign-off. "And that's, ladies and gentlemen, Max Emilian Verstappen!"
Charles blushed deeply, wondering how Max could be so unabashedly obvious about his feelings on international television. He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he scraped the burnt pancake into the bin and poured more batter into the pan.
“Leo, can you believe him?” Charles asked, glancing down at the dog, who wagged his tail enthusiastically. “Declaring such lines on TV... he’s impossible.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee and settled at the kitchen island, his thoughts drifting back to Max’s words. The sincerity in Max’s eyes, the genuine affection in his voice, it was all so overwhelming and heartwarming.
“God, I miss you, amore,” Charles whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. “Please come back to me.”
The loneliness was palpable, the empty space in their penthouse echoing the void in his heart. Charles clutched his phone tightly, staring at the last message from Max.
Charles couldn’t remember the days of waiting; they had blurred into a monotonous stretch of longing and loneliness. It was past midnight, and the quiet penthouse was bathed in shadows. He heard a clattering noise from the living room, a sharp contrast to the stillness. Leo was sound asleep beside him, oblivious to the disturbance.
Grabbing a bat stick from the corner of the room, Charles crept silently towards the source of the noise. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. He rounded the corner, ready to confront the intruder, only to find Max standing there, looking disheveled and exhausted.
Max froze, his eyes wide with surprise. "I’m sorry!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands defensively.
Charles lowered the bat, the initial shock giving way to a mix of relief and anger. "Schatje, the family meetings were suddenly held and I couldn’t get home and..."
"You took so long, dumbass!" Charles interrupted, his voice a mix of frustration and overwhelming emotion. Max’s shoulders slumped, and he took a step forward, his expression one of deep regret. "I’m so sorry, Charles."
Charles glanced at the clock; it was 5 in the morning. The realization of just how long he had been waiting hit him hard. He sighed, the tension slowly leaving his body as he looked at Max, who was clearly worn out but earnest in his apology.
"Come here," Max said softly, opening his arms. Max stepped into the embrace, holding Charles tightly. "I missed you so much," he whispered, burying his face in Charles’s neck.
Charles replied, "I missed you too."
“Schatje?” Max noticed the uncomfortable movement from Charles beside him.
“You smell like soap,” Charles murmured, burying his face in Max’s chest again, seeking comfort in the man’s steady posture and familiar scent.
“I took a bath before coming home. I hope it doesn’t bring you any discomfort,” Max said softly, running his fingers through Charles's hair.
“Can we do it?”
Max blinked, his mind racing to process the sudden request. One second, two seconds, three seconds...
“I, um, honey, aren’t you sleepy?” Max stammered, his voice tinged with surprise and worry.
“Are you tired, Max?” Charles asked, lifting his head to look into Max’s eyes.
Max hesitated, a wave of emotion washing over him. “I, god, I actually intended to ask you, but seeing you so early just, I’m so sorry. I should’ve taken you on a date instead of just asking for it like this.”
“Max,” Charles said firmly, his voice filled with love and reassurance. “We’re married.”
"And I haven't seen you for two weeks, Charles. For the record, I left you after our wedding. I'm not normal with this," Max said, his voice strained with guilt.
"Why?" Charles asked, looking up at him with curiosity.
"Jesus, Charles, I'm thinking about you almost every day. Hoping to have you close, in a warm bed and everything. I missed you, but I also can't behave like a dog. Now I'm seeing you in the flesh, in our home, waiting for me, married to me. I can't be normal about it, this, this domestic life."
"You think about me?" Charles asked, his eyes wide and filled with warmth.
"Of course, I think about you! What kind of man doesn't think about his beautiful wife alone after the wedding ceremony? What a dumbass," Max replied, his voice tinged with frustration and longing.
"I'm so happy," Charles whispered, his heart swelling with love.
"Ch-Charles, sweetheart, I'm barely containing myself," Max gulped nervously, his desire evident.
"It's okay. You can do anything. Let me just wear your favourite..." Charles started, but Max interrupted him.
"Schatje, I... I'm sorry if I behave like a..."
"Pervert?" Charles finished for him, a teasing smile on his lips.
"Sorry, Charles," Max said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"Well, you have a beautiful wife," Charles replied, his smile widening.
Max's eyes darkened with desire, and he pulled Charles closer. "You're right. I do."
Charles laughed softly, the sound sending shivers down Max's spine. "Then show me how much you missed me."
Max kissed him slowly, softly, then lifted Charles into his arms, carrying him toward their bedroom. Their laughter woke Leo, who looked up at them with sleepy curiosity.
“You can’t let him see us,” Charles said playfully, pressing a kiss to Max’s neck.
Max chuckled, setting Charles down gently. “Sorry, buddy, your mom has some business with me,” he said to Leo, guiding the dog outside the bedroom and closing the door.
Once they were alone, Charles's hands began to wander, but he asked casually, “So, how was your trip?”
“Worse,” Max replied, shivering slightly at the touch. “Had to deal with nobles.”
Charles clung to his back delicately, his touch sending shivers down Max’s spine. “Nobles, huh? Must have been tough.”
“You have no idea,” Max murmured, his voice full with both exhaustion and yearning. “But now I’m home, and that’s all that matters.” And that's all that matters now that he has his beloved close.
Charles smiled his fingers tracing patterns on Max’s skin. “I missed you so much,” he whispered.
“I missed you too, Schatje,” Max said, turning to kiss Charles again.