Work Text:
The Night Before the Race
Right after quali finished, the drivers went back to their hotels to have a good night’s sleep.
While Charles was talking to the front desk, asking if the room next to Max was available, he saw Max walking toward the elevator looking anxious and nervous. Charles called him, asking Max to wait, but Max didn’t hear him — too lost in his thoughts.
Charles rushed forward and stopped the elevator from closing. There he saw Max forcing a smile.
Max: “Charlie!”
Charles stepped inside and pressed the 6th floor. He looked at Max with a worried expression.
Charles: “Is everything all right, Maxy?”
Max: “Yes, why wouldn’t it be?”
Charles: “Come on. I know the difference between your fake smile and your real one. You know you can tell me anything, right, mon amour?”
Max hesitated. He didn’t want to worry Charles, knowing Charles was also racing tomorrow. Right as he opened his mouth to speak, the elevator doors slid open.
As they walked to their rooms, Charles decided to stay with Max. He didn’t want Max alone right now — he knew Max better than anyone. Sensitive, soft, and so different from what people assumed.
Max: “Didn’t Ferrari get you a room?”
Charles: “They did, right next door. It was supposed to be on the 4th floor, but I asked if I could move next to yours and they said yes. And since you won’t talk easily… would you mind if I stay with you tonight?”
Max: “No, of course not. Come inside.”
The room was big, so sharing wasn’t a problem. They left their bags on the desk and sat together on the balcony. The Abu Dhabi night sky was beautiful — skyscrapers shining, stars glowing.
Charles: “So tell me. What’s worrying you so much that you couldn’t even hear me yelling earlier?”
Max: “Sorry about earlier… I guess I’m just worried people will dislike me if I don’t win tomorrow. At least… that’s what my dad told me.”
Max only realized he was crying when the tears hit his lap. He looked down, but Charles gently lifted his chin.
Charles: “Your dad is wrong. People — especially your fans — know you’ve done your best all season. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Max: “But am I really doing my best? I made so many mistakes this season. I barely had podiums. I’m clearly talentless.”
Charles: “Stop saying that. You’re literally a 4x world champion. Those mistakes taught you lessons and made you stronger. I may not want to admit it, but sometimes I think you’re even better than me.”
Max: “Charlie, don’t say that.”
Charles: “But it’s true. I can’t even come close to being a WDC contender. Before you try to comfort me, don’t. I know I’m learning, and maybe one day I’ll be world champion too. But right now, you are the one we should be focusing on. You still have a race to win tomorrow.”
Max: “What if Lando beats me? What if Oscar beats me? Would you still be proud of me?”
Charles: “I’m always proud of you, Maxy. Don’t worry too much about the ‘what ifs’. You’re going to do great tomorrow.”
Max tried to speak, but Charles cut him off with a soft, sweet kiss — one Max immediately returned.
Charles: “I love you, my Maxy.”
Max: “I love you more, my Charlie.”
An Hour Before the Race
Charles arrived at the track early to discuss strategy. Afterward, he joined the other drivers for the parade and spotted Pierre.
Pierre: “Comment vas-tu, mon pote?”
Charles: “Je vais bien en ce moment, et toi?”
Pierre: “All good. We were talking about who we think will win the championship. You got someone in mind? Or should I just assume the obvious one?”
Charles: “Shut up, Pierre, before someone hears you. Of course Max is my winner. He’s been so worried this week. I feel bad I can’t help him more.”
Pierre: “You couldn’t even help him in bed?”
Charles: “Oh my god, Pierre— you’re so loud, merde!”
Pierre: “Hahaha, I just wanted to make you laugh, calamar. And for the record — Max is my pick too. Everyone thinks Lando has the advantage, but I still think Max can win this.”
Charles: “Thank you, Pierre. Not just for making me laugh… but for supporting me. And my boyfriend.”
Pierre: “Look who’s brave saying that out loud in public. Are you even Charles?”
Charles: “Shut up.”
They kept laughing until Max joined them for the parade. He greeted the boys and wished them luck.
Pierre: “Well, that’s a new one.”
Charles smiled. Max walked up to him and whispered:
Max: “Thank you for what you said last night, schatje. It helped a lot.”
Charles: “I’m glad it did, mon amour.”
The Race
Max started P1. Charles started P5.
Throughout the race, Charles defended like his life depended on it — blocking anyone who could threaten Max. As the laps counted down, the order was:
P1 Max
P2 Oscar
P3 Lando
P4 Charles
For Max to win the championship, Lando needed to finish P4 or lower.
Charles pushed — harder than he should have — praying his tires would survive. But he couldn’t overtake Lando.
Lando finished P3.
And the championship was gone.
Charles’ radio exploded with congratulations for P4, but he stood silent. Guilty. Like he had failed Max.
Max’s radio congratulated him too.
Max: “Great job everyone. Great season. I’m grateful for all of you. I’m not disappointed — there’s nothing to be disappointed about.”
He stepped out of the car. Crowds cheered for Lando. Max congratulated him — genuinely happy for his friend — but the sadness behind his eyes lingered.
Charles saw it. Every smile, every laugh — all forced.
And the guilt cut deeper.
He wanted to curl up and blame himself — but Max needed him more.
After the Race
Everyone changed into casual clothes for McLaren’s victory party. Charles saw Max quietly leaving the garage.
He ran to him.
Charles: “Are you okay, Maxy? Aren’t you coming to the party?”
Max: “I’m fine, Charlie. Just tired. It won’t hurt them if I skip, right?”
Charles: “I guess not, Maxy. Do you want me to come with you?”
Max: “Aren’t you going? The boys will be there.”
Charles: “Without you there, it’ll be boring as hell. No offense to the boys.”
Max laughed — briefly, but it eased Charles’ heart.
Max: “If you say so. I’m just going back to the hotel to sleep.”
Charles: “Perfect. I’ll come with you.”
They went back to the hotel without anyone noticing. Once inside the room, Charles kissed Max — long, passionate.
Max lifted Charles bridal-style and carried him to the bed. As they lay down, Charles rested his head on Max’s shoulder.
Charles: “Are you really okay, mon amour?”
Max: “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Losing hurts like hell… but I learned from you to accept results. Whatever the outcome.”
He didn’t realize he was crying until Charles touched his cheek.
Max: “I’m just ashamed… two points, Charles. Two points. If I hadn’t been careless in the races I messed up, I could’ve gotten the title.”
Charles: “Oh mon amour, don’t say that. You’re not a disappointment. Everything happens for a reason — maybe it just wasn’t your destiny. And… I’m sorry I couldn’t defend Lando earlier. It’s my fault. Blame me if it makes you feel better.”
Charles started crying.
Charles: “I’m so sorry, mon amour. I’m such a terrible driver… and now a terrible boyfriend.”
Max: “Schatje, don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. Like you said… it wasn’t my destiny. Let’s stop blaming ourselves.”
He wiped Charles’ tears.
Max: “You know what’s even better to do?”
Charles: “Have sex?”
Max (shocked): “Uh— yeah, that too, but I was thinking about planning our break. But we can also do what you sa—”
Charles (laughing): “I was joking, Maxy. I’m already sore from all the intense driving. Let’s just lie here and talk about what we’re gonna do… like husband and wife. My husband.”
Max (blushing): “Husband? Wife?”
Charles: “Yes? Something wrong with that, mon Dieu?”
Max: “No… I just liked hearing you call me husband. And you my wife.”
And that was the moment Max realized Charles was truly the one. Always there. Always comforting him without being asked.
He loved him — deeply.
The end.
Or not.
Depends if I want to add more lol.