Chapter Text
There are two things Charles remembers most about his childhood.
First, there’s the memory of his Papa. And then, there’s racing. The two were inseparable. His Papa would take their barely-running Corolla and drive him to the nearest karting track after school. The scent of burning rubber and fuel would fill the air as the karts zoomed around the circuit. Alongside it, his Papa’s encouraging words echoed in his ears: One day, Charles, you'll be one of those kids competing on the track. Those memories—of a worn-out car, the roar of engines, and his father’s belief in him—defined his childhood.
Funny how life works out, though. Charles did end up spending his adult years on the track, just not the kind he had imagined. Instead of racing tracks, he found himself on the familiar rhythm of train tracks, collecting dollar-fifty train tokens from passengers.
Considering the mind-numbing dullness of his job, he would often find himself daydreaming or at least making stories up about the lives led by the passengers who would regularly visit his booth during early morning rush hours. With his job, there was pretty much nothing to look forward to everyday. In fact, most people would consider what Charles does for a living as a dead-end job. It doesn’t hurt Charles’ feelings, though, because he knew, deep inside, that they were right.
So Charles would find a way to entertain himself, even if that meant having the most intense parasocial relationship with the most gorgeous man he has ever laid eyes on. The man started coming to his booth between 8:01 and 8:15 every morning Monday through Friday, with his tousled curls, sharp nose, and a bright smile. It was that smile that caught Charles’ interest because no one actually smiled at train token collectors, it was like they hardly existed for the passengers that they serviced on the daily. But, apparently, not for Mr. Gorgeous who would flash Charles a smile everyday, without fail.
Not that they have actually spoken beyond the usual smiles, but Charles knows, in his heart, that someday they will.
—
“I’m not working Christmas day, Toto.” Charles sighed, grabbing his cup of coffee from the cashier. “I’ve already worked Thanksgiving.”
“You’ll be given a plaque from the Mayor’s office.”
“I hate the Mayor.”
“I’ll declare you employee of the month.”
“Toto, at this point, I’ll be employee of the fucking year.” Charles deadpanned.
“You’ll have extra holiday pay.” Toto offered.
“As is my right, but I still won’t.”
“Come on, Charlie.” Toto pleaded. “Look, Yuki is sick and Logan can’t switch because they’ve got a big family thing coming up. And I’d take your shift myself if I hadn’t promised my kids I’d be home for Christmas.”
“You suck, mate.”
“I know it isn’t fair, I can’t exactly force you to do it. But, Charles, you’re the only one…” The taller man trailed off, looking as awkward as ever.
Charles rolled his eyes, he hated it when people tiptoed around it. “Without family, yes I know.”
—
And so, that’s how Charles found himself working alone at the train token booth on Christmas Day.
He couldn’t decide what was worse—being stuck at the station while even the near-retirement security guard got to spend the holiday at home, or watching the happy families pass by, carrying gifts and surrounded by children who giggled excitedly about their lists for Santa Claus.
All he could do was continue muttering “Thank you, Merry Christmas” under his breath to every passenger who handed him their token, the words slipping out mechanically, empty of meaning.
“Merry Christmas to you as well. Although, I think you could sound happier about the occasion.”
Charles was about to take offense until he looked up and saw Mr. Gorgeous himself, in front of him and talking to him. He was so taken aback that all he managed to respond with was a “Ye- uh.”
The stranger flashed him an amused grin and left, leaving Charles to suffer in his shame and awkwardness alone, thinking about all the witty things he would have responded with.
“Nice coat. Merry Christmas to you as well. You are gorgeous, wanna go for drinks Saturday night?” He lamented at the missed opportunity. “I am stupid, I am so stupid.”
There was nothing else he could do but continue to stare at the man until he reached the platform. Good lord this man was beautiful, if only he weren’t swaying so much.
Wait, why was he swaying?
Charles' eyes widened as he saw the man fall straight into the tracks. “Oh my god!” He bolted out of the ticket booth and went kneeling onto the platform.
“Sir, sir! Are you okay?” He yelled at a clearly unconscious man lying exactly on the track. “Somebody help me, please!”
The man continued laying there, blissfully unaware that he was directly on the path of an oncoming train. Charles looked around, waiting for somebody, anybody to come to their aid, but since he was the only one who worked Christmas Day and there was nobody else he could call, Charles jumped on the track as well.
He kneeled over the man and tapped him awkwardly on the chest. “Oh, god, mister… are you breathing?” Charles leaned over and listened for breath sounds. “Of course you smell good. Please wake up, please.”
"Mister, there’s a train coming, and it’s fast. It’s an express!” Charles could hear himself babbling, panic creeping into his voice. “Somebody help!” he shouted again, though deep down, he knew no one was coming. But he couldn’t just stand there. He had to try. “Oh my god, this is not looking good for either of us.”
With every ounce of strength he had left, Charles grabbed the man’s limp body and, through sheer will, rolled both of them to the side, narrowly avoiding the oncoming danger.
—
As the man got rolled into the emergency room, Charles ran towards the reception desk. “Hi, there was a man here who fell on the train tracks.”
“Okay, what’s his name?”
“I–I don’t know his name.” Charles replied stunned because he, apparently, never knew the name of the man whose life he saved after having spent a good couple of months crushing on.
“I need to know his name.” The nurse replied.
“Never mind, he’s over there!” Charles responded, rushing towards the gurney where he was blocked by the doctor.
“You’re not allowed in here.”
“No, you don’t understand—”
“Are you family?”
No he wasn’t family, he was… well, he was nothing. “I—”
“Family only. You’ll have to wait outside.”
“But I—”
I saved his life. I get his train tokens from him everyday. We spoke once and I already think we’re meant to be.
Jesus, he sounded insane.
“Well, there goes the idea of marrying him.” He mumbled, not knowing how loud he was actually being.
Charles sighed, ready to leave the hospital, but his path was blocked by a red headed nurse. “Hey, sweetie, just wait here. I can get you into the room once they’re done with him, okay?”
He should’ve known something was off. Hospitals don’t suddenly change their protocol from family-only to allowing strangers in. But in that moment, all he could think about was getting a glimpse of how the man was doing, so he smiled and nodded, pushing aside the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. “Okay.”
—
Once he was inside the room, the nurse ushered Charles to sit next to the man’s unconscious body. “Let him hear your voice, it helps with patients in a coma.”
“Wait, he’s in a coma?”
“Yeah, he hit his head pretty hard and had a bit of a dizzy episode before he fell. He’ll be okay, though, don’t worry.” The nurse consoled, patting Charles on the shoulder. “It’s just a matter of when he wakes up so go ahead and talk to him.”
“Okay.” Charles smiled, thanking the nurse.
“Hi.” He gazed at the man, god he was still so beautiful even as he lay there in a hospital gown with his forehead grazed. “Everything's gonna be okay. I know it, it’s going to be fine.”
Charles’ sincere and hushed reassurances were drowned out when the doctor appeared next to him and people started piling up outside the hospital room.
“He’s so pale, oh my god.”
“Oh my son! How is he doing?” An elderly man inquired to the doctor who protested the sudden intrusion of, what Charles assumes is, Mr. Gorgeous’ entire family.
“You can’t just come barging in here.”
As if deaf to the protests, the man continued inquiring. “Will he be okay?
“What happened to him?”
“Well, he’s in a coma.”
“On Christmas day?” The elderly woman wailed.
“But his vital signs are strong and his brain waves are good.” The doctor reassured the family. “He’s going to get through this.”
“How did this happen?” The woman, who Charles again assumes is his mother, continued to wail.
“Uhm, he got a bit dizzy, I think, and he fell from the platform at the train station.” Charles interjected as tactfully as he could.
The entire family turned around to look at him and Charles felt like a deer in the headlights.
“Who is he?”
“Oh that’s his fiancée!” The red headed nurse responded ecstatically, and Charles felt like someone just punched him in the gut.
“Daniel’s fiancée?”
“Daniel is engaged?”
“Did you know about this?”
“No! Why would I—”
Charles started waving his hands in exasperation. “No, no, no, it’s not—”
“Maybe he’s just busy and forgot to tell us.”
“Too busy to tell his family that he’s getting married?!” someone shouted.
“Don’t yell at him! He’s in a coma!”
“I’m not yelling at him!”
Charles watched as the older woman clutched her chest, her face pale. “Stop fighting! Look at Grandma!”
Great. Now they had someone with a heart condition, who could literally have a fatal reaction to any sudden news.
It was all too overwhelming. His family’s reactions came in sharp bursts, one after another, and there was nothing Charles could do to correct their assumptions. The more they spoke, the more tangled the situation became, leaving him helpless in the midst of their confusion.
“Hey!” The doctor who had informed Charles about the family-only policy appeared, glaring at him. “What’s he doing here?”
“Don’t be rude!” The nurse immediately came to Charles’ defense. “That man is Mr. Ricciardo’s fiancée. And he also happened to save his life.”
The mention of "saved his life" didn’t go unnoticed by Daniel Ricciardo’s family.
“You saved his life?” Daniel’s mother asked gently, her voice full of curiosity.
“Well, yeah but—” Charles responded, trying to appear nonchalant despite how panicked he was truly feeling.
“I thought Daniel fell on the tracks?” Daniel's sister asked, puzzled.
“His fiancée jumped on the tracks to save him!” The nurse blurted out again, louder than Charles had hoped. He really wished she would stop talking.
“You jumped on the tracks?” Daniel’s father asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Nonetheless, this is for family only.” The doctor reiterated.
“He is family.” Daniel's father firmly stated.
“Look, I’m sorry, you don’t understand…” Charles tried to explain.
“It’s just that we haven’t seen him in a long time, so we didn’t know,” Daniel’s mother said, stepping toward Charles with her arms open. “I always hoped he’d find someone who truly loved him, someone who was certain about him. And nothing says love like someone who’d jump on the train tracks for him.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she pulled Charles into a tight hug. “Welcome to the family!”
Charles could do nothing but accept and melt into the hug.
—
Charles and Daniel’s family sat in an awkward silence in the hospital lobby. He could feel their eyes on him, their curiosity palpable, as if they were all trying to piece together the story of how he and Daniel met. Charles twiddled his thumbs, waiting for someone to finally break the tension.
“So,” Daniel’s mother Grace finally asked, her voice gentle but probing. “How did you and Daniel meet?”
“I’m sure Charles doesn’t want to talk about that,” Joe, Daniel’s father, quickly interjected.
“Why not? We could all use a nice story,” Michelle, Daniel’s sister, chimed in, her voice light.
“How do you know it’s a nice story?” Grandpa Saul added, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“Oh, I have a sort of sixth sense for these things.” Grace laughed. “I’m sure it’s a case of love at first sight.”
Charles chuckled at how accurately inaccurate that statement was.
“I bet he picked you up in that fancy car of his.” Grandma Elsie teased, and Charles blinked, suddenly realizing—Daniel had a fancy car? Score.
“What was it about him that, you know, first struck you?” Grace pressed, her smile widening.
“His smile.”
An echo of “oohs” and “aahs” filled the room, and Charles couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm.
“He got that from me, you know.” Grandpa Saul cackled, and Charles smiled again.
“Well, we saw each other, and he smiled.” Charles continued, remembering fondly how being at the receiving end of Daniel’s smiles was, sometimes, the only thing that made him want to get up in the morning and go to his dead-end job. “I just knew my life would never be the same.”
—
“Charles, I say this with love, but you have positively lost your mind.” Pierre criticized.
Charles buried his face in the throw pillow, groaning. “I know.”
“Like, what is your end goal here? Hope the man never wakes up? Or hope that him waking up would make his family forget about the whole thing?”
“Of course not!” Charles replied, offended that his oldest friend would think that of him. “I do want him to wake up, but I just—his family is just so nice and I don’t want to tell them I lied.”
“Technically, you never lied to them.” Pierre corrected. “You just didn’t tell them the truth.”
“And the grandmother, she’s got this heart thing! If I tell the truth she could have a heart attack and die, and it’s gonna be on my head!”
“But you can’t just go along with this.”
“I know.” Charles groaned. “I feel like it was wrong for me to ask for your opinion.”
"Shut up, I’m your moral compass and your boyfriend."
"You can’t use that joke anymore. I’m engaged, remember?" Charles chuckled, amused at his friend for still calling himself that. It was a long story—something about them enduring homophobic teasing in middle school, where cruel kids would call them ‘gay’ for being attached at the hip. The kids were right, though; they were gay, just not for each other. Although, Charles couldn’t help but wonder how much easier things might have been if he and Pierre were, in fact, gay for each other.
“You have to tell them.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“I don’t know, do you?” Pierre challenged, his eyebrows raised.
“I don’t know!”
“Jesus, you’re a fucking mess.”
“See this is why I’m engaged to someone else, you’re a horrible boyfriend.” Charles glared at him. “And you are not helping by stating the obvious.”
“Okay, do you think they’re still at the hospital, right now?”
“Yeah, I think they’ll keep him company since they never got to spend Christmas with him.”
“Then go there and tell them before you’re in too deep.”
—
Charles felt awkward as he walked through the surprisingly empty hospital hallway, trying to find the courage to tell Daniel’s family the truth. Before he knew it, he was in Daniel’s room, listening to the beeping sounds of the machines attached to him.
"Bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here in the middle of the night, huh?" He forced a smile, feeling even more uncomfortable. "Well, I thought I should introduce myself." Charles paused. "I’m Charles. Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc. I know, it’s a mouthful. But I’ve got Monégasque roots, and my dad always had a flair for the dramatic."
"So—uh, Daniel. Feels strange calling you that after months of calling you Mr. Gorgeous." He chuckled nervously. "Anyway, I think you should know that your entire family believes we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all a bit sudden for me too."
Charles let out a nervous sigh. "So, what I really came here to say is… I didn’t mean for this to happen, and now I don’t know what to do. Well, I think I do, but it’s gonna be so hard."
"Of course, I probably wouldn’t be in this mess if you were awake." Great, now he was blaming the man in a coma for the situation he found himself in. "I guess, I liked that your family was so warm towards me. The reason I liked you in the first place was your smile—it had this warmth to it. And I guess I was just desperate for that, after being alone for so long."
“That sounds really pathetic, I know. What kind of person would—” Charles sighed, trailing off. “Anyway, it’s not that I’m not grateful for what I have. I mean, I have an apartment, and I have sole ownership of my remote control, which is crucial during racing season. No one touches the channels, ever.”
“Do you believe in love at first sight? Because that’s what your family thinks happened with us.” Charles continued. “I bet you don’t. You seem like a sensible guy. I imagine you’ve never felt so alone that you spent days confusing not just the man in a coma, but his entire family too.”
Charles reached for Daniel’s hand, his voice softer now. “Anyway, thank you, Daniel, for being in a coma long enough to let me feel what it’s like to not be alone. I’m just hoping your family liked me enough to not press charges.”
“I know I wouldn’t.” A voice came from behind Charles, making him jump and smack his knee against Daniel’s bedrail.
“Oh, sorry, I just—” Charles bit his lip, looking sheepish. “Is there any chance you didn’t hear all that?”
Saul looked at him with a “do-you-really-want-to-know” expression.
“Right. I have no excuse.” Charles paused, pursing his lips. “But I’ll tell everyone, I promise. You’re just here early, and don’t worry, I’ll get out of your lives soon. This’ll just be something you’ll all joke about later—like, ‘Remember that guy who pretended to be engaged to Daniel?’” He chuckled desperately trying to salvage the awkwardness.
Saul just stared at him with a pondering look. “Why were you at the tracks on Christmas day?”
“You— what? ”
“You heard me.”
“I–uh, I work there, in the token booths.” Charles exhaled.
“You were working Christmas day?” Saul prodded.
“Well, yes. The trains never stop running. Someone’s gotta give people their tickets.”
“So you didn’t get to celebrate Christmas?”
“I did Christmas eve, in my apartment.”
“Huh, probably one hell of a party, yeah?”
“It wasn’t exactly a party, per se.” Charles trailed off, blushing. “I—well, I spent it alone.”
“Your family wasn’t with you?”
“No, no… my mom died when I was really young,” he replied quietly. “Then it was just me and my dad, but a couple of years ago, he got sick, so…”
Saul had nothing to say after that, and there was another bout of awkward silence that took over the room.
Charles stood up from his seat and made his way to the door. “Sir, I’ll just go to the lobby and tell everyone. Again, I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to get so complicated.”
“It’s Saul.”
“Sorry?”
“Don’t call me Sir, it feels weird.”
“Okay Sir–sorry, Saul. ” Charles smiled. “I’ll get going then.”
“Do you want to celebrate Christmas with us? We’re having a little get-together since we didn’t get to celebrate because of everything with Daniel,” the old man explained. “You should come.”
“I don’t think I’d be welcome once everyone finds out—”
“Nonsense. You’re not telling them, not yet.”
“But—”
“Look, Charles, whenever something terrible happens to our family, everyone falls apart.” Saul’s tone softened. “With Daniel in such a state, Max and I have to pick everyone up, even if we’re falling apart too.”
“Max?” Charles asked, noticing the unfamiliar name.
“Daniel’s brother. He’s been busy, but you’ll probably meet him at the Christmas party.” Saul continued. “Anyway, somehow, the family’s not falling apart right now, and I think it’s because you’re here.”
“I haven’t even done anything.”
“They think you’re a part of Daniel, and having a part of Daniel with us is better than not having him at all.”
Charles stood by the doorway, stunned, unsure of what to say.
"You need them, Charles. And, surprisingly, we need you too."
—
The get-together at Daniel’s house was how Charles expected family Christmas get-togethers to be like, just fun and comforting.
After flipping through family photo albums and hearing all the embarrassing stories about Daniel, they gathered by the fireplace to take a picture. Charles vehemently declined, but Michelle practically dragged him into the frame. He flashed his best smile, hiding the guilt he felt for secretly enjoying being included.
“That’s enough picture-taking, it’s time to exchange gifts!” Michelle announced excitedly.
Charles stayed seated by the fireplace, trying to remain as invisible as possible while everyone else opened their gifts. To his surprise, Grandma Elsie suddenly dropped a box onto his lap. “This one’s for you, Charlie.”
Charles sat frozen, holding the carefully wrapped box in his hands. “But... I didn’t bring anything for anyone.”
“Nonsense,” Elsie chided gently. “It’s a gift. We’re not expecting anything in return. Go ahead and open it!”
Charles ripped the wrapping paper open and saw a small Ferrari 412T2 model, the one Ayrton Senna drove. “Oh wow.”
“Do you like it?” Grace implored.
“Wow, I love it,” Charles replied, warmth blooming in his chest. ‘I’m actually a huge fan of racing. My dad and I used to go karting all the time.”
“I used to take Daniel and Max!” Joe laughed. “That’s actually Max’s present, you know?”
There it was again—Max. Daniel’s brother, the one Charles had yet to meet.
Grace slapped him on the chest, “I told you to buy the Red Bull one!”
“What’s this about you guys giving my presents away?” A voice boomed down the hallway, making Charles snap his head toward the doorway.
“Maxy!” Michelle yelled, throwing herself into his arms. He caught her effortlessly, twirling her around. “I’ve missed you!”
“Well, apparently, you’re the only one who does.” Max muttered, his eyes scanning the room. “Why are you guys giving my present away?”
“We thought you weren’t coming,” Grace explained, planting a kiss on Max’s cheek. “You haven’t been replying to our texts.”
“I don’t reply, and now I get no presents?” Max pouted, his gaze narrowing as it landed on Charles.
Charles, in turn, studied him with mild curiosity. Max didn’t look like Daniel—not like any of the Ricciardos, really. He was blonde, his hair sleek rather than tousled, and his eyes... those piercing blue eyes that could send a jolt through your spine if you held his gaze for too long.
Daniel had warmth—his honey-brown eyes and smile radiated a comfort that settled over Charles. Max, on the other hand, was different. He had an electrifying presence, the kind that made you feel alive in a way that was almost unsettling.
“I could give it back, it’s okay.” Charles interjected.
“You keep it, Charlie. Max is not a big Ferrari fan, anyway.” Grace smiled reassuringly at him.
“Charlie?” Max inquired, with his eyebrows raised.
“That’s Charles!” Grandma Elsie chirped, pointing a finger toward him. “He’s Daniel’s fiancée.”
“Fiancée?” Max’s eyebrows shot up even more, untangling his limbs from Grace and Michelle. “I don’t remember meeting you.”
Charles stood up, dusting off his pants, and looking straight into those blue eyes. “Well, it’s probably because we’ve never met.”
“That might have something to do with it.” Max hummed, extending his hand. “I’m Max.”
Charles shook his hand, feeling the weight of Max’s grip. His hands were large and a little clammy, almost swallowing Charles’s own despite their similar height. “Charles, I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Good things, I hope?”
“Only the best.” Charles replied, reluctantly letting go of Max’s hand, a shiver running down his spine as he did so.
“So, have I missed everything?”
“Not everything, there’s still ham left in the fridge and Grandma Elsie’s eggnog!”
“So I have missed everything.” Max joked.
“You disrespectful brat.” Grandma Elsie huffed, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Maxy.”
Max turned to the old lady, wrapped an arm around her, and kissed her on the temple. “I’ve missed you too, Gammy.”
The whole situation was starting to feel too intimate, and Charles couldn’t help but feel like a sore thumb—awkwardly sticking out, as though he didn’t quite belong.
“I should go.” He mumbled.
“No, you stay put, Charlie.” Joe insisted. “It’s too late at night and it’s freezing! You can sleep here tonight, and go home tomorrow, Max will drive you.”
“No, it’s fine, I can get home by myself, really.”
“Nonsense!” Saul protested.
“Yeah, it’s fine, I’ll drive you tomorrow Charles.” Max chimed in immediately, locking eyes with him, as though he were analyzing him. “What better way to get to know my soon to be brother-in-law, eh?”
Charles figured it was a generous offer, but the way Max was looking at him sent an uncomfortable chill down his spine. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to that drive home tomorrow.