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There was a knock on Charles’ hotel room door. A quick glance to his phone showed him it was already way past midnight and Charles was seriously considering not even getting up. After today’s DNF, he just wanted everyone to leave him alone so he could wallow in self-pity in peace.
Another knock.
He pushed himself off the bed and went to the door, pajama pants riding low on his hips. There must have been an emergency if someone was knocking so persistently at such a late hour.
Charles pulled the door open and froze.
“Max, what are you doing here?”
The Dutchman was standing there, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, hair a complete mess. He was leaning heavily against the wall and looking at Charles with a stupid smile.
“C’me to sssher you up!” he declared and pushed past the other driver.
“I don’t need cheering up, go back to your own hotel!” said Charles, trying to prevent Max from getting further into the room.
“You w’re sad, not s’pposed to be - hck - sad.”
“Oh my God, you’re so drunk, what are you doing,” whisper-yelled Charles, hands around Max and trying to push him back towards the open door.
Drunk Max was surprisingly wiggly and he managed to get out of Charles’ grip. Somehow, half of his buttons had also become undone.
“List’n, Charles,” he said and took a hold of Charles’ naked shoulders. “I’m s’rry ‘bout yer race.”
Max was looking at him with a very serious expression which was somewhat undermined by the fact that he couldn’t see straight and his eyes kept focusing on Charles’ nose. The brunet let out a sigh.
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. Congrats on your win.”
Max leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Charles was so stunned he didn’t even notice when Max turned and made his way straight to his bed.
“Wait, don’t-” he started, but Max had already face-planted to the bed and was worming his way under the covers.
“Max, you can’t sleep here!”
Charles started to tug the blanket off the other man but Max was determinedly holding onto it.
“This is my bed, get out!”
Charles was starting to get frustrated. He was tired and he was sad, and one drunk Dutchman in his bed was doing nothing to help the situation.
“C’me here, goin’ to give you a hug…” mumbled Max and stretched one of his hands out trying to reach him.
Charles just stood there, at the foot of his bed, hands on hips, staring.
“This is so stupid. How did you even know where my room was?”
“Carlos help’d me. He’s nice.”
“That traitor,” hissed the Monegasque and promised himself he would get his revenge on his teammate. Carlos was not the one who had to deal with a World Champion taking over his bed, now was he?
He tugged Max’s foot, making a last half-hearted attempt to get him to stand back up, and then gave up. Max was hugging a pillow to his chest – Charles’ pillow – and his breathing was getting slower, showing he was already on his way to Dreamland.
Charles sighed, finally closed the door, and turned off the lights.
“At least give me my pillow back, you have your own,” he said and got in the bed next to the Red Bull driver. What else was he supposed to do? He wasn’t going to let someone bully him out of his own room. Plus, the bed was big enough for both of them.
“Max, this is my pillow, I want to go to sleep.”
Max just mumbled something incomprehensible.
After some tugging, Charles finally managed to free his pillow and he flopped down on his side with an “umph”. It would be fine. He hoped Max didn’t snore because he had a plan to wallow some more and he would not let Max Verstappen ruin it.
Max’s hand flopped to his waist and he found himself being pulled closer to the other man.
“Max, stop this right now, I’m trying to sleep!” demanded Charles and tried to wriggle free. Max just pulled him even closer and Charles felt his chest through the half-buttoned shirt against his naked back.
“Shh,” whispered Max and rubbed the brunet’s neck with his nose. “Promis’d you a hug. Go t’ sleep.”
Charles wanted to be mad. He really did. He had had a bad race and he was allowed to pity himself, but it was increasingly difficult to do with Max softly breathing against his neck and his thumb rubbing comforting circles to his side.
He sighed, burrowed in closer, and let his eyes fall shut. Self-pity could wait until morning.
—
Charles woke up to someone kissing his shoulder. He froze up and tried to remember last night. He was sure he hadn’t gone out to a club after getting a DNF. Which begged the question, who was in his room kissing him?
Then he remembered everything: Max’s drunken shenanigans and him refusing to leave because he wanted to cheer Charles up. Which meant… it was Max who was waking him up with kisses. Charles was sure Max thought he was someone else. Was he currently dating anyone? Or did he always stay until morning with all his hookups? Whatever the reason, Charles had to put a stop to this before it could get any further. Max would hate him if he knew he was awake and still let him think he was some other person.
“Charles…” came from behind him and Max’s lips were moving up to his neck.
Hearing his name made Charles pause. Max knew it was him and still chose to kiss him? That changed things.
Without turning around, he stretched his neck out, giving the other more room to work.
“Hey, Max?” he asked over his shoulder, Max’s answering “Hmm?” enough for him to continue.
“Are you still drunk?”
There was a puff of laughter against his skin.
“No. Just a bit hungover.”
At least that answered one of Charles' questions. He was not willing to do anything with someone who was under any kind of influence.
One of Max’s hands found its way to Charles’ bare chest and started determinedly sliding down his torso.
“Max, what are you doing?”
The blond’s hand froze.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked and started to pull away. Charles’ hand landed on top of Max’s and he pushed it harder against his stomach.
“No. But we need to talk.”
He turned around, Max’s hand now sliding to his back, and readied himself to have this conversation.
“Hi.”
Their faces were so close to each other. Max looked a bit pale but his eyes were clear.
“Hi.”
Max’s fingers were distractingly running up and down his spine. Somehow during the night he had lost his shirt and Charles felt the warmth coming from his bare torso. Their chests were so close, but not yet touching.
“Do you remember last night?” asked Charles gently and watched Max’s cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“Yeah,” he admitted, but refused to look away. “Sorry for taking your bed.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I…” his confidence faltered. “You… you weren’t in the club and I, of course, knew you had had a bad race.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you came here in the middle of the night.”
“I knew you would be sad. I wanted you to feel better.”
Something about the thought of Max caring about his feelings was making his heart warm up.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re still here. You woke up before me.”
“Same reason – I still want to make you feel better.”
It was too early for Charles to deal with all the emotions rising to the surface with that statement. He closed the distance between them and pushed himself fully against Max. Charles pressed a soft kiss to the other man’s shoulder and whispered: “Thank you, it’s working.”
Max continued rubbing his back and shoulders and Charles was feeling so warm, so safe that he could have fallen asleep again. But he couldn’t yet. He had to be brave first.
“You kissed my shoulder before…” he started, closely looking at Max’s reaction. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”
There was a moment of quiet and then Max surged forward, hands covering Charles’s face to pull him closer, lips finding his with a newfound determination.
It was a little awkward and uncoordinated and Max’s tongue tasted a bit like vodka, but Charles kissed back with just as much enthusiasm. When they finally pulled apart, Max was breathing heavily, hands still holding Charles carefully like he was something to cherish.
The sun was shining in from the window and they both had planes to catch in the evening, but for now, that didn’t matter. Charles pressed a small kiss to Max’s lips and then turned around, snuggling back against the Dutchman’s chest and pulling his arm around himself to hold him. Max intertwined their fingers.
“Go back to sleep,” Charles ordered and closed his eyes. Max tucked his face to where the brunet’s neck met his shoulder. His breath was tickling Charles’ skin.
“Max?”
“Yeah?”
Charles smiled into the pillow.
“You can kiss me again when we wake up.”
Max pressed a soft kiss under his ear.
“Deal.”