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Max slowly wakes up to the morning sun creeping its way through the blinds and the feeling of soft kisses being pressed on her shoulders and neck. It’s not too different from most of her mornings, but it feels more special anyway.
She turns around to look at the woman holding her in her arms, who greets her with a smile.
“Happy birthday, mon amour.”
“I would kiss you but I bet we both have very bad morning breath right now.”
Charles makes a face at that and Max can’t help but giggle.
“Ugh, why did you have to ruin the moment, cheri. I was being so romantic.”
“Sure you were, babe.” Charles pouts again and Max presses a little kiss on her collarbone to fix that. “You can give me all the kisses you want once we’ve both brushed our teeth, yes?”
“Fine,” Charles says with a particularly dramatic roll of her eyes. “You make me suffer so much.”
“Yes. I truly am the worst, aren’t I?”
Charles nods. She pulls her girlfriend closer so she can nuzzle her head into the crook of her neck. “Can I at least join you in the shower later?”
“So many demands. Charlie. You’d almost think it was your birthday and not mine.”
Charles pulls her head back to look at Max. “So that’s a no?”
“Now, when did I say that?”
“Mhm.”
Charles forces an attempt at making breakfast because she really, really wants to. She pulls up a recipe for waffles and gets to work. Max stands there in the kitchen, hovering to offer her assistance, but Charles tells her that she can manage it just fine.
Max does not believe her.
In the end Charles sets Max down on the kitchen island with a kiss and tells her to just sit there and look pretty while she sorts breakfast out.
Twenty minutes later, Max is standing on that same kitchen island trying to waft smoke away from the smoke detector.
Max can't suppress her laugh as she watches Charles look at the burnt pan with sad eyes.
“It was my favourite pan too,” Charles says with a deep pout.
Max slides off the counter and walks over to Charles. She loops her arms around Charles' neck. “It's alright, baby. I'll buy you a new one.”
The suggestion makes Charles' eyes go wide. “No, no. You don't have to buy me a pan. I ruined it. Besides, it's your birthday and we still haven't had breakfast.”
Max giggles. “That's alright, schatje. Just let me get started o—”
“Non!” It comes out almost like a command. “You're not doing any work today, mon cher. We'll just go out for breakfast.”
“But Charlie, I can—”
“No.”
“Everything's right the—”
“Nope.”
“Cha—”
“Nuh uh.”
“Baby—”
“Oh mon Dieu.” It comes out with an exasperated sigh and before Max can realise it, she's being lifted off the ground by a pair of hands under her thighs.
“Charles,” she squeaks out in surprise but the other woman doesn't respond. And then she's being carried into their bedroom.
“Charlie, what exactly are you doing?”
Charles looks up at her smiling. “Get dressed, darling. We're gonna go out for breakfast.” Gently, she lowers Max onto the bed and walks into the closet to pick out her own outfit. “Come on, get dressed.”
Max just looks at her girlfriend. It really shouldn’t surprise her, the way Charles is acting. The woman is usually on just the other side of crazy during normal days. But on days like Max’s birthday? She is absolutely unreasonable.
Max shakes her head, knowing that she can’t get Charles to make any sense anymore, and goes to pick out an outfit.
—
The cafe feels way too fancy for a simple breakfast date but Charles had argued that she wants ‘simply the best’ for Max on her birthday so here they are. The water costs €12 and Max thinks that is absolutely outrageous but Charles tells her to pay it no mind.
They finish up their food and, as they’re leaving, get stopped by a few eager fans. Max steps aside while Charles clicks pictures with them, all the while shooting Max a slightly guilty look. Max gives her a smile and a tiny nod as if to say that it’s alright.
“I’m so sorry, cheri. I thought it was early enough that we wouldn’t get stopped,” Charles says once they’re back in the car.
“It’s okay, schat. You can’t help it. You’ve got way too many admirers.”
Charles gives her a little smile. “But you’re the only one who’s got all of my attention, yes?” She brings Max’s hand up, pressing a kiss over her knuckles and Max blushes. “Got me wrapped all around your finger.”
Max hums. She leans over the center console, hand reaching out to cradle Charles’ jaw so she can pull her into a kiss. When they part, Max whispers, “If you drive fast enough, you could have me wrapped around your fingers in about ten minutes.”
Charles drives like she’s on track during a Grand Prix weekend.
—
Max slowly wakes to the sound of utensils clinking in the kitchen.
After being pinned to the bed for two hours and having her seventh orgasm pulled from her, Max, utterly boneless and lightheaded, had drifted off while she let Charles take care of her. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was Charles’ fingers running through her hair and the warm press of her lips on her forehead.
She stretches her limbs, feeling the faint soreness in her thighs that she loves. She slowly lifts herself up and leans against the headboard. There’s a bottle of water on the nightstand next to the bed and a robe draped over the chair next to it. It’s a silk robe, way too extravagant for something Max would wear.
They were in Paris for their second anniversary, roaming through the rainy streets past sundown. Max, slightly tipsy from the wine they had at dinner, was giggling about something as she walked, holding on to Charles’ arm. They came across a shop window which had an absolutely gorgeous looking robe displayed behind the glass. Max had halted to a stop.
“Oh Charlie, look,” she said, pointing to the glass. “It’s so beautiful.”
Charles gave the robe a quick glance. “Yeah?”
“Yeah! Can you imagine, this is probably what the wives of millionaires wear to bed at night, you know? All silk and fur and ugh. It looks so soft.”
Charles had just hummed and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Max’s head before getting dragged along to the next window.
Three weeks later, she had come home and dropped a package into Max’s lap. It was the robe, a bloody €16,500 price tag on it. Max had just gawked at Charles in shock for five minutes before the other woman laughed and unpackaged the robe for her. When Max asked why in hell did she buy it, Charles just shrugged and said, “You wanted to look like the wife of a millionaire.”
Max smiles at the memory. She slips the robe on, taking a second to appreciate how it feels on her skin, before walking out into the kitchen.
Charles turns around just then, a chopping board in one hand and a knife in another. “Oh. Hello, mon coeur.”
“Hi there. Whatcha doin’?”
Charles looks behind her then gives a little nod. “Making lunch.”
“Mhmm, I thought you had your fill earlier in there,” Max says with a suggestive smirk. It takes Charles a second to realise what she’s saying but once she does, she blushes.
“Well. This is for you, babe. I’m sure you need it.”
Max pads across the floor, narrowly avoiding tripping over a cat. “I sure do. You made me pass out.”
Charles’ hands, now free of the offending utensils, find their way around Max’s waist. “I’m so sorry, mon ange.” Her lips slowly make their way up Max’s neck, lightly nipping at her jaw when Charles gets there. Max leans into the touch, her body moving closer to Charles’ with her fingers gently threading through the other woman’s hair. “Fuck, baby, I love it when you wear this robe.”
Max has her eyes closed and head tipped back. “Yeah? You just say that about everything I wear.”
Max feels a warm puff of air near the hinge of her jaw. “Well, what can I say? You look beautiful in everything you wear.”
Max lets out a little noise of contentment as Charles gently pushes her against the kitchen counter. Her hands move up Max’s thigh, pushing the robe out of the way. Charles kisses her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth before finally catching her lips. Max wraps her legs around Charles’ waist, trying to pull her closer. Charles catches her bottom lip between her teeth, nipping it gently and Max lets out a moan. Max wants more, more, more but then suddenly, Charles is pulling away.
“Wha—hey!”
Max pouts, because she can, and Charles huffs out a little laugh. “Mon coeur, I love you, but if I stay here kissing you any longer then I'm gonna burn our lunch.”
“That's fine. We can just order some lunch.” Max pulls Charles' face closer and gives her a quick peck. “Or, we can just make some instant ramen.”
Charles gasps, absolutely offended. “I am not cooking you instant ramen for your birthday lunch. Let me go, amour, I need to finish cooking.”
But Max doesn't. She whines. “It's my birthday, Charlie. And I demand kisses.”
“But you need to eat, my love.”
“Yeah. Your face. Now come here.” But Charles doesn't move. And when Max brings her puckered lips close, Charles lifts her hand to block the kiss, which turns out to be the worst possible thing she could've done.
Immediately, Max's arms around her shoulder drop and there's a deep frown on her beautiful face.
“Max.”
Max pushes Charles away and slides off the counter. She tugs the robe close, tying it tighter as if she's trying to completely envelope herself in it. She walks into their bedroom and shuts the door with a defining bang.
“Fuck,” Charles curses under her breath. She quickly turns the gas off so as to not have a repeat of the morning's incident and walks over to apologise to her girlfriend.
The door doesn't budge when Charles turns the knob. Shit.
“Max? Mon amour, please let me in?”
No answer. Charles is going to have to try harder.
“Maxie, baby, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I shouldn't have blocked your kiss like that, I'm sorry. Can you please open the door?”
There's a muffled meow coming from the room. Charles figures that one of the cats must've snuck into the room while they were in the kitchen and thus were now trapped in there with an upset Max.
Charles gently knocks on the door, then tries again. “Please let me in? I promise I'm not going to cook now. I even turned the gas off, I can finish cooking later. Please let me in.”
This time, finally, there's an answer.
“No.”
It's not the most ideal answer.
“You don't even love me anymore. All you care about is your stupid cooking anyway.”
Charles sighs, but she's not worried anymore. Max is talking to her which means that she isn't really that mad.
“But I do love you, darling. I love you the most.”
“No! You love your fucking pasta and your precious pesto sauce,” comes the accusation from inside. Charles has to stifle a laugh.
“That's not true, mon bébé, I love you the most.”
“You're lying.”
“Please let me in so I can apologise to you. Please?”
It's silent for a few seconds before Charles hears the sound of feet shuffling and then,
click!
Charles turns the knob and immediately walks inside before Max has the chance to lock the door again.
Max doesn't smile on seeing her. She stands a considerable distance away, cuddling little Donut up against her chest while she still wears that pout. The pout only makes Charles want to kiss her even more, though she's not quite sure if she's allowed to do that now.
Carefully, Charles takes a few steps in her direction. Max doesn't seem to be walking away, which is good. She reaches out, slowly trying to replace Donut with herself. Max releases the cat, who immediately runs out after throwing another meow in their direction. Now, with her arms free, Charles tries to wiggle her way between them. It works at first, when Max rests her hands on Charles' hips.
And then she pushes her away before climbing back into bed.
“Max—”
“Now you know how it feels!”
Max is hugging a pillow now, one of the several big, fluffy pillows she absolutely insisted they must have in their bed. Every night, it gets too crowded in the bed and every night, they lose a few pillows to the floor. But Charles would be damned if she didn't cater to every one of Max's whims.
Charles sighs, but it's the kind you let out when you just love the person in front of you so much that you don't know what to do with yourself. That's Charles on most days anyway.
“Yes. I know how it feels like now.” Charles slowly inches her way closer to the bed before dropping down right at the corner of it with the utmost caution. “And I am so sorry I made you feel like that, mon cher. Tell me, how shall I pay for this crime I have committed?”
For the first time in about half an hour, Charles sees Max smile. She tries her best to fight it off but it sneaks its way onto her lips anyway, even if it's only for a moment.
Max then leans against the headboard, deep in thought. “Let me think.” Charles chuckles at that but hides it before Max can notice.
And then Max sits up with her arms crossed across her chest. “I have three conditions that you will have to fulfil if you wish to gain my forgiveness.” Her tone is serious.
“Okay, cheri. What are your conditions?”
“First,” Max raises her pointer finger for emphasis, “you will forget about all this cooking nonsense and sit here and cuddle me and kiss me for as long as I want.”
Charles solemnly nods. “Done. What's next?”
“Two, you will stay close to me every day till you have to leave for the next race. I need you within a 2 meter radius at all times.”
“But, amour, I leave for Singapore in three days.”
“Did I stutter?”
Charles promptly shuts her mouth. “Okay, done. I'll be at your constant beck and call for the next three days.”
There is a self-satisfied smile on Max's face. “Good. And three, you will take me out for dinner tonight—”
“I was already going to do that—”
“—on your yacht.”
Charles grins even wider. She slowly crawls over to where Max is sitting and Max doesn't move away when she kisses her. “Ma vie, I was already going to do that. Do you think I would do something so simple as a birthday dinner at a restaurant for you?”
Max blushes furiously but tries not to let her expression falter. “Whatever. Now come and cuddle me so you can repent for your sins.”
Charles moves before the sentence is finished, pulling Max against her chest. “Mhm, and what are my sins exactly?”
“Refusing my kiss of course.”
“Of course, of course.”
—
Over the top yet private is how Charles has arranged her yacht for the night. Max looks as ethereal as ever in her dress and Charles' heart skips a few beats.
She's hired the head-chef from Max's favourite restaurant in Italy for the night and Max finds herself in awe of just how much her girlfriend dotes on her.
When their relationship was still new, Max would be taken aback by just how much the Monegasque would spoil her. Every time she went away for a race, she would return with a couple of presents for Max. And they weren't always just the most expensive things she could buy, no. She would remember the little things Max might've off-handedly mentioned.
She would refuse them at first, not used to being showered in presents like this. It took months and months of Max refusing and Charles just ignoring her to make Max realise that this is just Charles' way of showing love. If she loves you, she will remember everything you like, will remember everything you wish for, and do her absolute best to get them for you and will not take no for an answer.
And as the years went by, Max came to enjoy being spoiled by her girlfriend.
Like tonight.
Charles' eyes haven't left her since they walked out of the car and Max feels seen in the best way possible.
“Can you stop staring?” She still complains just because she can.
“Why should I? There's just us on this boat. I can stare at you all I want.”
“Pervert.”
“Only for you,” Charles says with an exaggerated wiggle of her eyebrows and Max groans.
“Ew. You're such a sap.”
The servers always stay an arm’s length away, only interrupting when asked to. The first bite of the pasta has Max almost let out a moan around the fork and Charles feels pretty damn proud of herself.
With dinner done, Charles thanks the servers, her and Max go to meet the chef and Charles stands by as Max compliments the chef and does what can only be described as fangirling. Safe to say that Max had very much enjoyed her night.
“We're not going home?” Max asks when Charles leads her off the deck and further inside the yacht.
Charles gently shakes her head. “I was thinking we can stay here tonight.”
“But, what about the pets?”
Charles leans down to kiss the worry away from Max's forehead. She does not like it when Max worries like that and if she could, she would make sure that Max never has to wear that look. “Joris is already there and he's going to be looking after them.”
Max visibly relaxes and it makes Charles' heart squeeze seeing how much Max cares about their little critters.
“What else have you got planned for me then?” Max asks with a suggestive lilt to her voice. And while, yes, Charles definitely has that planned, she also has one more surprise for Max that she really, really hopes she likes.
Charles slides her hand up till she finds Max's resting on the back of her neck and laces their fingers. “Come with me.”
Their bedroom is one of their favourite spots on the yacht. Apart from the obvious, it is also the one place on the boat that is completely theirs with no one from the outside having any access to it. And in a world where most of your life is shared with the world, whatever little cocoons of privacy you can get you gratefully take.
The decor was all picked out by Max, because Charles trusts her taste. But also because the day the yacht was delivered, Charles had to stay in Maranello for a meeting and the only way to please a very sulky Max was to agree to give her full design authority over the vessel.
Max collapses on the bed as soon as they enter. Her limbs feel wobbly and she’s just a little tipsy from the wine at dinner. She reaches out for Charles, who is putting their bags away in the closet, and makes grabby hands till the other woman finally comes closer. And then Max grabs the front of her shirt and pulls Charles down over herself.
“Hi there,” Charles says, and Max bursts into giggles.
“Kiss me,” she says, and Charles dutifully does so.
“Did you have fun tonight, my love?”
Max nods. “It was the best day ever.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know it was the best day ever?”
“Well,” Max inhales deep and Charles knows that her brain is about to get all technical now. “I suppose ‘best day ever’ is an exaggeration but I will say that it is one of the very best days I remember having in my life so far.”
If it weren’t for her arms being looped around her Charles is sure Max would’ve had a finger pointed up while she gave that explanation. She laughs. She laughs because she can’t believe this is her life. She laughs because now Max has also burst into giggles under her. She laughs because she is just so, so in love and she can’t believe she’s lucky enough to get to feel this way.
“Max?” she says once both of them have calmed down a bit. Max answers with a kiss. “I have one more thing for you.”
Max’s expression softens. “Oh, schatje, you’ve already given me so much.”
Charles smiles. This isn’t even halfway close to all the things Charles is willing to give her. “This one I think you’ll like the most.”
Charles slides off the bed and Max sits up in anticipation.
“What’s that?” Charles doesn’t answer but she’s clearly holding a bag that suspiciously looks like one from a jewellery store. She sits on the edge of the bed this time, slowly reaches into the bag, and pulls out a little box that looks a lot like—
“Charles.” Max’s voice is faint as the air escapes her lungs. She looks at the small velvet covered box then back up at Charles’ smiling face. She’s biting the inside of her cheek, Max can tell, and there are tears gathered by her waterline.
“You said you didn’t want it to be a cliché.”
And maybe Max is a little biased, but the ring inside is the most beautiful ring she has ever seen in her life. Charles pulls it out, letting the box close with a soft click before tossing it somewhere on the bed. And then, she gets on her knees.
“Max. When I first—”
“Yes.”
Charles flinches. “What?”
“Yes, I will marry you,” Max says in a choked up voice.
“But I didn’t even get to give my speech.”
“Do you want to give your damn speech or do you want to marry me?”
Charles knows the answer to that. “Can you say it again?”
Max lets out a wet chuckle. She leans forward and grabs Charles’ face with both of her hands. “Yes, mon amour, I will marry you.”
A thousand fireworks go off in Charles’ mind when Max kisses her and she has to make sure she doesn’t drop the ring. When Max pulls away, there are tears running down her face, similar to Charles. She holds her left hand out and Charles takes it, sliding the ring on with ease, and drops a kiss on the ring finger. Max throws her arms around her fiancée, tackling her to the floor and peppering her face with kisses till she’s nothing but a giggling mess on the floor.
When she pulls away, she finds Charles looking at her like she’s the whole world.
“I love you so much.”
Charles smiles and it’s as bright as a thousand suns. “I love you so very much.”
“I think this is officially the best birthday I have ever had.”
“Best birthday ever? Or one of the best birthdays you’ve had so far?”
Max pinches Charles’ side for that but the smile never leaves her face.
“No. It’s the best birthday I’ve ever had.”