Chapter Text
It had been Charles' first week on the job when one of his colleagues caught his eye. He had been exiting to go oversee filming on a set and he had been walking in with a bag of takeout. Dressed in a white T-shirt and blue skinny jeans—a crime against humanity if it weren't for the fact it accentuated the curves of his thighs.
His blond hair was tousled messily, like he simply woke up that way. He had bright blue eyes, almost otherworldly and a confidence to his walk that made Charles stare a little in awe and infatuation. He tripped over himself slightly and prayed that the man didn't see it happen.
*
"I'd bring it to Max. We have an IT guy but, you know, he's like seventy now and he only comes in anymore for the free coffee." Lando stated with a small chuckle.
Charles frowned. "A seventy year old in IT?"
Lando grinned. "Harold has a tenure contract of steel. It'd be too much of a hassle to fire him than to just let him retire in a couple years. Plus, he's a great conversationalist. Just don't get him started on kayaks unless you want to stand there for hours," he exaggerated, "while he talks about his journey down the Mississippi."
Charles nodded dumbly, holding his laptop a little slack now. "So where can I find this..." he'd already forgotten the guy's name.
"Max?" his devilish coworker completed. "He works upstairs with all the other programmers."
"And he'll be able to fix it?" Charles questioned.
Lando shrugged. "Should be. You have tried turning it on and off again, right?"
Charles rolled his eyes. "Bye Lando." he said before exiting the office with Lando calling after him. He tuned it out with a small laugh and a shake of his head. He walked up the steps to the programming department, searching through the office plates before finding one that said M. Verstappen. It seems Lando had forgotten that their company only does first initials. Regardless, after walking the full line he came to the conclusion there was only one M so he could take a pretty confident guess that this was the guy.
He peered in and his breath stuttered a little. It was his office crush from the first week. His hand sputtered anxiously as he rapped a closed fist on the gray open cubicle entrance. His desk was perfectly organized into sections. Formula one posters lined the wall, mostly of Fernando Alonso. There were a few Star Wars items and Lego builds. Charles noticed photos but didn't get a very thorough look at them. He hummed at the knock but didn't turn his head.
He pursed his lips. "Hi, my laptop isn't working and Lando said you might be able to help?" Charles placed politely. He really wanted to make a good first impression.
Max hummed again. Not quite the response Charles was looking for. He was still typing at his own computer, barely paying him any attention.
"So you can fix it?"
Another hum, a bit melodic in its fashion but confirmation nonetheless.
Charles sighed in relief. He was getting sick of dropping to five frames a second when he opened more than six tabs. "Great, where can I put it?"
Nothing. Complete silence. Just the clicking of fingers on keys. Charles huffed frowning in frustration. The other still hadn't so much as looked at him. He never understood the level of antisocial these guys were until now.
"If you don't want to do it-," he began.
The man nodded. Charles could barely see his face since his back was mostly to him but he's confident the blond nodded multiple times. A firm rejection.
"Alright then." he put flatly. He doesn't understand why the other couldn't just say that himself. "Thanks I guess." he muttered, leaving before he could humiliate himself further waiting on the other's minimal responses. There was no apology following him out the door.
Asshole. Consider his crush crushed.
He ended up having to leave a note for Harold and use a decaying company laptop for a week. To add insult to injury, he got locked into an hour long conversation with Harold about jam making when he went to pick it up. He missed getting to record Lewis Hamilton's endorsement shoot. He really wanted to meet him. He couldn't help but blame Max.
*
It had been an extremely long morning at the office. Charles had a shoot with a celebrity who kept telling Charles how to do his job. What angles to shoot from, how all his lines were stupid, and that the set wasn't up to caliber. Worse, Charles knew they had a second shoot with him in a week. So excuse him if he took a little solace in their tiny lounge after ordering his favorite coffee. He's been craving it all week, too expensive to warrant purchasing daily but after dealing with that, he decided he deserved it.
He finally set his bag down at the table and did his best to decompress into a black fold out chair. It was empty other than himself, so he grabbed out his phone and propped it up against his water bottle, putting on race highlights from the one he missed that weekend due to a company event he needed to go record for. The day was starting to look up.
Someone else walked in, the loud gurgling of the coffee machine drowning out his video. It grated against his ears but he didn't have much of a reason to be mad at the individual, he made a coffee every morning with that grimy excuse of a coffee maker too.
He took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the smoothness of the milk and the richness of the caramel. He got a text from teams, he set his coffee down and picked up his phone to look.
Lando
The shoot today isn't up to the fuck ass celebrities standards. We're going to have to extend the amount of time for next week's shoot.
Charles blinked. His fury setting in.
He then heard the crashing of ice and looked on in horror as his coffee cup lay open, ice and deliciousness soaking into the carpeted floor. Shock set in instantly as a distinctly blond man with a bag hanging off his shoulder walked quickly out of the room, a coffee cup in hand.
Charles wanted to cry and Charles hated Max Verstappen.
*
"And so-," he was cut off with a loud noise. The printer whirring to life as multiple sheets were dispensed. Max comes in a few beats after, looking over the card stock sheets that warble loudly as he turns them over, inspecting them.
He coughs, hoping the other hears him and realizes how disrespectful this kind of behavior is. He knows he doesn't hide his expressions well and he hopes Max sees just how much he can express with only his face but he exits with the papers, swishing loudly as he walks.
He continues with the presentation but notices Max has taken a seat outside the open presentation room. Charles braces and is prepared for how loud the typing is but he is stunned by the fact nobody in the room reacts. Can none of them hear it? Do none of them believe in the decorum and social expectations of the workplace?
He goes red with anger and a bit of embarrassment as he stumbles on his closing lines because he is once again interrupted. The typing stopped but the printer groans and spits out a mountain of sheets. Max nods when he picks them up and some of his coworkers seemingly delight in his belligerent behavior, grinning and laughing slightly under their breaths. They pat Charles on the back as they exit and it takes a special level of self control not to scream.
*
Before Charles walks into the emergency meeting he sees his boss and Max having a conversation. The boss places a comforting hand on Max's shoulder and nods before saying something further but Charles decides it's probably rude to stare and takes his seat at the table. He has manners unlike some people. When Max comes in, he beelines for the seat right next to Charles. His jaw clenches. Everything the blond does is to torment him.
The meeting begins and it's explained they have a large client contract that they need to work out how to fulfill or they'll need to cancel the order. They need to brainstorm solutions.
The group throws endless ideas into the center that keep getting shutdown. Often, it's Max.
"We could outsource."
"Outsource?" Max repeats condescendingly, as if the idea was otherworldly.
But the other nods, not taking offense. Charles would throw his attitude right back if that were him.
Max shakes his head. "It'll compromise our quality. Especially with how much the client is paying, we can't risk them receiving poor product,"
It's a fair argument. In fact, Charles knows he'd probably nod along if it wasn't coming from the literal devil. He doesn't understand how everyone seems to love this guy. Is Charles the only one who sees through the act?
"What if," Charles says pensively, "we use the parent company to outsource. All of our materials come from them so it should all be the same quality." he offers. He thinks it's a great idea.
But of course on his last words is when Max decides to stop watching other people and look at him. He seems baffled, and Charles knows his other coworker's statement was a bit far fetched but his is reasonable. Beyond manageable.
Max looks towards their boss, as if he is helpless to understand a simple concept on his own.
"Charles said we could use the parent company to outsource."
Charles is bewildered as Max simply nods. As if his boss has altered the statement and it is now completely palatable to the programmer.
"Great idea Charles. Any reasons we can't go forward with this?" his boss asks. Charles levels slightly at the praise.
Nobody says anything.
"Perfect. You're all dismissed. Thanks again for staying late."
People begin standing and getting ready to leave. Max grabs his laptop packing it neatly into his bag.
"Oh wait, I forgot!" the boss states, and everyone looks up. Everyone except Max, who's halfway to the door and crosses through it without looking back.
His boss chuckles. "There's a company party next weekend with sponsors. I'll send out the details Monday. If you all can make it, that'd be great. It helps when sponsors can have all their questions answered when they're a couple drinks in and willing to give some upfront donations. Yes?" he grinned.
Everyone laughed. Charles was still hung up on Max's abrupt exit simply being accepted and barely acknowledged. Did nobody here fear being fired?
*
Charles RSVP'd for the event of course. This was kind of his specialty and it wasn't at all because he was new to the city and didn't have many friends. He even offered to make a presentation for the end of the night.
He chatted with sponsors, smoothly transitioning from general conversation to their company. Connecting their interests to their product. He often walked away with promises to donate and sometimes, a check. He couldn't say the same for Max, the man had mostly kept to himself, sometimes talking to Daniel, head of HR. Maybe it wasn't the fact that everybody loved Max, maybe Max had just made the right connections where he'd become untouchable.
He looked good in a suit, Charles could see that much but he didn't let himself dwell on it. A pretty face with an ugly heart. He'd made those kinds of mistakes before.
As time neared for the presentation Charles began gathering a group. Creating small talk and getting them settled at tables near the screen. Slowly others took note and began migrating closer.
Charles stood at the front of the room, working the crowd with practiced precision. They were laughing at his jokes and continuously ordering drinks. Hanging off every word he said. Taking interest in the company. This would surely be his big break. A pay raise granted he raised enough money. He was ready to throw in another punchline when there was a bit of commotion to his left.
Max. Max was stood in front of one of their clients, holding a phone away from him as the man grappled for it. "That's not yours." the client issued sternly, a little breathless from the effort.
Max didn't respond, dodging every push for the item.
"That's my phone!" he shouted. Charles cringed in embarrassment.
Max didn't budge.
The tussle was calling more and more attention, eventually security intervened, pulling the two away from the presentation. The crowd looked disturbed. Constant mumbling as he continued the presentation. No more drinking, stirring leftover liquid with straws. There was simply no returning to the atmosphere there was before that moment. Max had ruined it like he ruined everything else for Charles.
They complimented him in the end but he knew it could've gone so much better. He was expecting to receive some immediate bidders, instead, wallets were held tightly and many left directly after the talk was over. It felt like failure. He started to use the open bar to his advantage.
*
Max approached the bar. "A G&T please." he ordered.
Charles couldn't help himself, working a bit off his liquid courage. "Hey, what the hell is your problem with me?" he questioned, his pent up irritation bleeding through every word.
Max thanked the bartender and took his drink, beginning to walk away from the bar. Charles had enough of being ignored. He grabbed Max by his shoulder, the man stumbling slightly and forced to turn around. Face to face Charles could see the front of his suit was partly covered in the drink. Good. It's what he deserved for ruining his presentation.
Max blinked at Charles, an expression of genuine surprise.
"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?" Charles spat venomously.
"I-," Max muttered breathlessly. "Can you repeat that please?" he asked meekly.
Charles laughed. "You've got to be kidding me." he muttered. "Whatever, fuck you." he finished, spinning back around in his chair and finishing the rest of his drink in one go. He heard Max walk away and ordered himself another.
Only a few minutes later he was interrupted mid sip by Lando shoving his shoulder. "Hey, what the fuck mate?"
A bit of his drink splashed onto his lap. "Lando," he groaned, "I was going to drink that."
Lando snatched the drink out of his hand. "Seems pretty fair to me Char. After you caused Max to spill his entire drink on himself. What the hell were you thinking?"
Just the mention of Max pissed him off. "I was thinking," he emphasized, taking his drink back from Lando snidely, "that Max is a complete asshole and ruined my presentation." he hissed. "I don't get why you guys are all so obsessed with him." He waved his open hand around, "He might be hot but that's about it."
"Max..." Lando trailed off, completely lost. "Okay Charles, please explain to me how Max ruined your presentation."
"He literally took a potential sponsors phone, started arguing with him, and everyone got really uncomfortable. I couldn't make anymore jokes and everyone left!" he exclaimed, ranting freely. It felt liberating.
"Max took that guy's phone because he was taking photos of you Charles. Like, zooming in on your ass and shit."
Charles opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it. "Oh." he stated numbly.
"Yeah, oh." Lando repeated. He put a hand to his temple. "Christ mate, you need to slow down on the drinking." he added as Charles nervously sipped through a straw, chewing on the end.
He pouted. He hated being wrong. "Okay, well that doesn't change the fact he ignored me in a team meeting, or interrupted my presentation, or Lando," he cried, "he spilled my coffee and didn't even help clean it up or apologize. He just left!"
Lando paused. "That doesn't sound like him at all." he muttered. "Did he see that he spilled your coffee?"
Charles remembered the incident vividly. "No but it was so loud, he obviously heard it fall." he explained. "Too important to clean up his own mess." Charles muttered.
Lando slowly pulled away Charles' drink. Charles narrowed his gaze on Lando, his friend's expression painted with surprise.
"Charles, you know Max is deaf, right?"
Charles stared. "Max is..."
"Deaf. Completely deaf. Unless he had his cochlear in, which most of the time he doesn't."
Charles' heart sank. "Holy shit. I am stupid. I am stupid." he voice cracking as he put his head in his hands.
"Charles! I literally tried to tell you when you went to bring him your laptop!" Lando said, on the verge of laughing hysterically.
"I- I didn't hear you." he spoke, absolutely devastated.
"Holy shit. Did you even give him the laptop?"
Charles shook his head. "No, but Lando I swear he was actually purposely ignoring me. He was humming and nodding to what I was saying."
"Let me go get him and ask." Lando said getting up.
"No Lando, please Lando." Charles begged but the other was already going to pull Max from a conversation with Daniel who was frowning and glancing at Charles. He was so fucked.
Max wandered over with Lando. "I'm so sorry." Charles immediately blurted. "I'll get you another," he noticed the new G&T already in Max's hand. This would be the end of him.
Max smiled slightly. "Sorry, can you speak a little slower?"
Charles crushed in on himself in embarrassment.
"Sorry about him, he didn't know you were deaf. There's been a bit of a misunderstanding." Lando exposed him.
Max tilted his head at Lando. "There has?"
"I thought you hated me." Charles sighed, mumbling a bit before remembering to be clearer with his words.
Max seemed taken aback. "That's what that was? You seemed mad but I thought it was about the photos. You were speaking so fast."
Charles shook his head. "I had no idea about the photos. Thanks by the way."
“It's no problem.” Max shrugged. “What a creep."
Charles nodded.
"The laptop." Lando reminded Charles.
He swallowed, "Right. I tried to bring you my laptop and I was talking to you and you nodded but," he waved his hands.
Max appeared confused. "I don't remember us talking about your laptop. Was there something wrong with it?"
Charles nodded.
"And I nodded?"
"Well you nodded when I asked if you didn't want to help, the rest you just hummed." he clarified.
Max bright blue eyes looked at him thoroughly for a moment before a small chuckle turned into an onslaught of laughter. He began saying some words in a language Charles didn't understand. He did have a pretty thick accent. Possibly German. "I was listening to music."
"You didn't have headphones on." Charles asks without accusation.
"My cochlear has Bluetooth. I can listen to music and I typically have it a bit loud. Never even heard you."
"Shit." Charles said.
Max smiled sympathetically. "It's whatever. I'm sorry about that."
"And then there was the printer, and my coffee." Charles mourned, everything making sense now.
"Your coffee?"
Charles shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I literally spilled your drink all over you. A spilled coffee isn't exactly comparable."
Max frowned. "I spilled your coffee."
Charles smiled softly. He understood how everyone loved Max now. "Please don't worry about it. I should be the one apologizing."
"Call it even then?"
"Yeah, let's call it even."
There was a beat of silence. "Wait, what about the printer?"
The group laughed boisterously, calling a lot of attention but they didn't care. The laughter only got louder after Max exclaimed, "Printers make noise?"
Daniel ended up having to drive them all home that night.