Work Text:
Moving On
Charles was feeling - he decided the best word was emotional. It wasn’t the right word but he knew damn well that if he admitted what the word was, he would be laughed out of bed and probably out of the apartment until he was standing naked, embarrassed and somewhat mystified in the middle of the Monaco rush hour.
He sighed and shifted his back against the headboard, glancing down fondly at his - person - who was at that point lying on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. Charles was unsure how he was still breathing, but it did mean that he got a perfect view of the long, lean line of his back. He loved that back, which was another thing he would never admit. He loved the smoothness of it, the couple of stray freckles on the shoulders, the fabulous groove of the spine. It was delicious.
“You are staring at me so loudly that the entire country can hear you”. Max’s voice, although muffled by the pillow, was sudden enough to make Charles’ skin tighten in surprise before he relaxed and huffed a laugh. Max turned his head to the side and regarded Charles with one bright blue eye. “What are you doing?”
Charles reached out and smoothed Max’s bed hair, letting his fingers linger. “Your face is all pillow creased”, he said. “You look so young”.
“It’s an illusion”. But Max smiled and covered Charles’ hand with his own. “I’m old and bitter, I just hide it well”.
“No”. Charles dipped down and kissed Max’s cheek. “You do not”.
Max laughed and turned his face back into the pillow, clearly intending to go back to sleep, but Charles was awake and wasn’t going to allow it.
“Come on”. He pushed back the sheets and slapped Max’s backside. “Get up. It’s a beautiful day, let’s do something”.
“I thought we did lots of things last night”. Whether Max had been going to say anything else the world would never know as Charles decided now would be the perfect time to straddle him, making himself comfortable on Max’s lumbar region.
“What?” Max raised his head and looked over his shoulder. “What are you planning to do now you’re there”. He squinted. “You look incredible, by the way”.
“Must be love”. Charles smiled and tracked his fingers up Max’s spine, hitting the spot just beneath his hairline that invariably caused him to make a noise that nobody in the world would believe him capable of, and try to pull away.
“I think we should go out on the boat today”, he said, digging his fingers into Max’s hair. “We could go swimming, go fishing, sunbathe…” He leaned forward. “And I could do that thing to you that made you cry last night”.
Max laughed and arched his back, silently requesting Charles get off him, which he obediently did, climbing off the bed and moving over to the window to pull back the blinds, flooding the room with sunlight. “It’s beautiful out there”.
“It’s not bad in here”. Charles looked over to see that Max had propped himself up on one elbow and was - well he was ogling and Charles struck an outlandish pose until Max threw a pillow at him and sat up. “Come here”, he said using that tone that Charles had never been able to resist and almost without volition he closed the space between them, tucking himself between Max’s legs and burying his hands in all that fabulous hair that he knew - he just knew - would be cut soon.
“Why cut it?” he uttered the thought out loud without meaning to. “It’s a mane like this, you should lean into it”.
Max tilted his head up, his chin digging sharply into Charles’ belly, eyes crossed in mock frustration. “You know why. My head is big enough anyway; any more hair and I couldn’t get my head into my helmet”.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t be so …” Charles paused as he looked for the phrase. “So full of yourself”.
Max frowned and then his expression cleared and he laughed, hooking his hands around the back of Charles’ thighs to pull him an impossible inch closer.
“Not big headed; I mean I physically have a big head. Fool”. He kissed Charles’ belly. “Okay, we’ll go out. I just need to go back to mine and get cleaned up, pick up some clean clothes, yes?”
“Good”. Charles pulled free and slid down to his knees between Max’s spread thighs. He smiled and kissed Max’s nose, then each cheek and finally his forehead. “I win. Good morning”.
“You always do”. Max pulled at Charles’ hair for a second and then they moved apart, Max standing up and pulling on a pair of soft sleeping trousers that were very clearly not his, shoved his feet into trainers and headed out of the bedroom. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes, yes?”
As soon as he heard the apartment door close, Charles got to work. He stripped the bed and put the bedding in the basket, ready for his lovely cleaning lady to sort out for him when she came in later. He gathered up the scattered clothes and did the same, then picked up the glasses and mugs from the bedside tables and took them into the kitchen, putting them in the dishwasher. People invariably laughed at him because he liked to tidy up before Noemi came, but he was his mother’s son, and that was all there was to it.
Back in the bedroom, he had a quick glance round to make sure there was nothing that would cause Noemi to have a fit - she had once found one of Max’s shirts and he had barely talked his way out of it. As a fervent Catholic who considered Charles her child, she loved him but she also judged and Max was not one her favourites, and had thus been deemed as ‘not suitable’ for ‘her darling boy’.
If she ever found out that ‘her darling boy’ was incredibly good at making the ‘not suitable’ Max shiver and beg, she would probably drop dead on the spot.
Deciding it was Noemi appropriate, Charles went to the bathroom and cleaned up for the day, settling on a loose white shirt and trousers, and his favourite trainers. He thought for possibly five seconds and then decided that he wouldn’t bother with underwear. It would make Max laugh, and that was his favourite thing, especially now.
Accessorised with sunglasses and watch, he picked up a baseball cap and his car keys and opened the apartment door for Max, who joined him a few minutes later, suitably cleaned up himself, also dressed in a white which made them both smile.
“One last thing”. Charles leaned into Max until he was forced to take a step backward, his back against the wall. Charles leaned in and kissed him, very slowly but not at all gently. Thoroughly was the word that best described it, huffing into the kiss as Max’s hands, very much of their own volition, reached up and tangled into Charles’ hair.
“Okay”. Charles finally pulled back. “Bonjour, mon amour”
“Charlie, je bent een monster”
“What a ridiculous language you speak”, Charles pushed himself away. “I am romance and you are - Dutch”.
“What is the matter with you?” Max looked at him, clearly puzzled. “Why are you behaving like this?”
Charles laughed and even to himself, he sounded slightly mad. He put his hands over his mouth and shook his head. How to tell him? How to explain it?
He shook his head. “No, nothing”, he said. “Just happy to have a day off and be able to spend it with you”.
**
Later, as the boat rocked softly at anchor and Max relaxed in the sun, Charles sat next to him, and let his fingers trail down a scar on Max’s stomach, nothing more than a pale line, almost buried in fine hair.
“Don’t”. Charles was surprised as Max’s hand covered his own, stopping him. “Not there”.
“Why?” Charles tilted his head. “Why will you not tell me about it? I know everything about you, but not this”.
Max cracked open one eye. “I keep a little mystery”.
Charles gave a very French shrug and stood up. “Keep your secrets, terrible man. I am going for a swim”. And then, to Max’s startled amusement, he flung himself into the sea with no hesitation.
Max stood up and leaned against the railing, laughing and waving when Charles resurfaced, spluttering and rubbing the water out of his eyes. He saw Max looking, made an obscene gesture and began to swim around the yacht. Max shook his head and leaned against the railing, having decided not to throw himself into the sea as well.
He wouldn’t admit it, of course, but he was quite pleased to have a few minutes alone. He adored Charles and everything about him, but sometimes he was a little bit - much - for someone like Max, who had grown up being told that emotion was for other people. Charles was his shining light, but sometimes the light was dazzling.
Max let his hand stray down to the scar that Charles had been bothering him about. He had almost forgotten it was there after all these years. There had been no reason not to tell Charles about it; it had been a stupid accident when he was a child, nothing more than that, and he didn’t know why he had been so mysterious about it. Maybe he felt that he had to keep some things to himself.
“Oh, fuck!” He was startled out of his reverie by a pair of cold, wet hands grabbing his waist, and a very wet Charles leaning against him, trapping him against the rail. “Fuck, you scared me!”
“Good, that was the point”. Charles dropped a kiss on the back of his neck and then moved away, picking up a towel and wrapping it around himself. “Why are you so quiet, hein? Grumpy man”.
“Well I do have a lot to think about”, Max said, in what he considered to be a very reasonable tone. “If you remember I announced my retirement yesterday”. He turned around, watching Charles as he roughly towelled his hair and emerged, looking so beautiful and tousled that Max felt it in every nerve.
“I remember”. Charles sat down on one of the sun loungers. “You broke my heart a little bit”.
“Why? How?” Max didn’t move but the space between them seemed to grow a little bit. “I spoke to you about it, you said you were with me”.
“I said that I would stand by you”, corrected Charles. “I meant it then and I mean it today, and I will mean it for ever; I will stand by you”. He shrugged and dug in his ear with the corner of the towel. “But it doesn’t mean that I want it to happen”.
“I don’t understand”. Max stayed against the railing but slid down to sit on the deck, his knees up almost to his chin. The defensive position he had used since he had been a child; the one that kept the world at a safe distance. He saw it register in Charles’ eyes and regretted it immediately but didn’t know how to change it, and so he simply shrugged his confusion.
“I’m in that world alone now”, Charles said simply. “You have been the constant for me since we were kids; you saw me through Jules, my papa, Anthoine… everybody I lost, you were there for me to lean on. My family was happy to let me travel alone because you were there; did you know that? I could fight with you and play with you on the track in the same race. Now what do I do? Who do I come to when things are so awful that I want to slit my own throat?”
“You come to me”, Max said after a moment, still clearly confused. “I’m not dying. Jij bent de ware voor mij - you’re the one for me”. He lowered his head, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment.
“But you won’t be here”, Charles said. “You can’t tell me that you’re going to travel the world with me like a hanger-on, part of the entourage. You?” Charles laughed and it was almost bitter. “And I would hate you for it if you did. You’ll be off doing all of your other quests”. He dropped to his knees and crawled across the deck, pushing at Max’s knees until he could finally settle between them, his back against Max’s chest.
Max dropped his face into Charles’ hair and they sat quietly for a moment before he finally spoke. “Are you frightened that we’ll grow apart? Do you think maybe we’ll discover that all we ever had in common was racing?”
Charles picked up Max’s hand and began to play with his fingers but didn’t reply which gave Max all the answers that he needed.
“You are a fool sometimes”, he said, his lips against Charles’ ear. “We have known each other for almost twenty years, we have been together for a good half of that time”, He kissed the side of Charles’ neck. “And in all those years, how often have we stopped talking?” He nipped softly. “Except for when we’re ignoring each other, and even then you swear at me all the time”.
He moved so quickly that Charles let out an embarrassing squawk as he was dumped flat on his back on the deck with Max looming over him, one hand protectively behind Charles’ head, the other on his waist.
“You are a fool”, Max said again in a different tone, one that nobody else heard. “We’ll be apart more, yes, but it’s not insurmountable is it? We’re both richer than Croesus, we have planes”. He dipped his head and nipped again at Charles’ neck. “And I’ll be with you all the time, you know that”. He smiled. “I’ve been in your head since I was eight years old”.
Charles laughed, the strange tension that had been growing between them dissipating slightly as he pulled Max close, legs and arms wrapped around him. “Yes”, he said, “yes, you have. Been in my heart about that long as well, I think”.
“Romantic idiot”, Max said, although he smiled as he said it. “Get this into that skull of yours, okay?” He tugged on Charles’ hair then let his finger trace the delicate shell of his ear. “I will never not want you next to me. When you win the WDC I will stand in that crowd and I will cheer for you so hard and so loud that people around me will be embarrassed at my behaviour. When you drop out of qualifying in the first round I will be there to support you. Okay? I will never not be here”.
Charles had gone very still, his eyes locked on Max, his lips slightly parted. Max never spoke like this, was never so open with the way he felt.
Max shook his head and pulled himself out of Charles’ grip, pushing himself to his knees. “So, okay? Remember that”. He leaned forward and tapped Charles’ temple and then his chest. “Never not here”.
**
They finished the day with a long meal in a quiet restaurant that made a point of not allowing paparazzi or social media anywhere near the doors. They knew Max and Charles and were happy to put them in a dark corner where they wouldn’t be bothered.
They didn’t speak much, simply ate their food, commenting occasionally on how good it was, and left an hour or so after they arrived, Max slipping the waiters a hefty tip while Charles took care of the rest of the staff. They always did so, grateful for the way they were treated.
“Okay?” Max asked as they approached the front door of their apartment. “You look tired”.
“I am”, Charles said, leaning against the wall as Max unlocked the door. “Been a good day, though. But I didn’t get much sleep last night”.
Max pulled a face. “At least you weren’t being tormented to the edge of tears by some evil man”. He laughed at Charles’ expression of faux innocence.
They entered the apartment and kicked off their shoes, Charles moving to the kitchen to get a drink of water while Max moved into the lounge and slid open the doors to the balcony. Then he leaned on the railing and looked at the street below, watching the ever-present traffic shuffling along the street. Without realising it, he sighed.
“What’s wrong, amour? You’ve been distant all day”. Charles appeared at his side, putting a hand on Max’s back and rubbing in circles as if soothing a child. “Tell me what’s on your mind”.
Max sighed again and let his head droop, encouraging Charles to continue with what he was doing before raising his head again and standing up straight.
“Have I done the right thing?” He picked at the railing with his thumbnail. “God, Charlie, what if I’ve just opened my mouth and said the wrong thing? I can’t go back on it”.
Charles sighed in his turn and leaned on the railing next to him, their shoulders brushing. They were silent for a moment and then Charles began to speak, his voice weaving around the noise of the traffic, soft and certain.
“The first thing you did when I met you was push me into a wall and say that you would haunt me for the rest of my life. Do you remember that?” He leaned into Max for a second. “Well, here we are, almost twenty years later and yes, you’re still haunting me. You don’t ever say anything you don’t mean. I laughed when you told me that you believed loyalty was more important than success - although I think I may be more of the poster child for that particular statement than you are - but then I realised that you meant it. You are the most loyal man I have ever met”. He paused and Max let the silence build.
“You never say anything you don’t think about. You are really good at pretending things are off the cuff, but I know you; I think I know you better than anybody else in this world, and you have never said anything without thinking it through first”. He paused and then leaned forward so that his lips were brushing Max’s ear. “Or at least nothing in public”.
Max’s lips curved but he didn’t respond.
“So”, Charles continued after a moment. “You announced your retirement. You meant it”. He thought for a moment. “You have so much you want to do and you have achieved so much. People won’t forget you”.
“I don’t care if they do”, Max said roughly.
“I know you don’t”, Charles said. “But that’s not up to you - you’re part of history now”.
Finally Max looked up and Charles was startled how tired he looked. “It’s a huge thing I’ve done”, he said, then looked down again. “I’ve seen people say that I’m nothing but racing, it’s in my blood and my heritage, but what do they know?” He picked at the railing again until Charles put his own hand over Max’s to stop him. “You’re the most important thing in my life, you know that don’t you?”
“Of course”, Charles said simply as if the question barely deserved his attention. “And I’m with you every step of the way. Maybe I won’t see you so much but I will be so proud of you”.
They stood silently, looking down at the traffic until Max sighed, running his free hand through his hair.
“It’ll be strange, not being part of the circus after so long”.
Charles shrugged. “Maybe the rest will do you good. Or not the rest, maybe the change. We have another ten years or so ahead of us, I reckon, when we can still be competitive. Yes?”
“Probably”, agreed Max.
“So in ten years we will both be retired, growing fat and content together in - where?” Charles began to make a game of it to distract Max. “Not here?”
“But you love Monaco”, protested Max. “It’s your home”.
“Monaco is where I live”, correct Charles. “You are home”.
“Oh”. Max blinked and Charles knew he had hit a nerve. The lonely little boy was always just below the surface. It didn’t take much of a scratch to find him. Charles had always hated that fact.
“So we grow fat and content where?” he said again, trying to prevent Max from turning in on himself.
Max looked at his hands and then up at Charles, with an expression in his eyes that made him look very young. Then his lips quirked and he turned back into an adult.
“I’m content anyway”, he said then. “The fat bit we’ll work on”.
Charles smiled and nudged him again with his shoulder. “So much pizza”, he said. “Mountains of pasta”.
“I could introduce you to stamppot”.
“You could try, cherie”, agreed Charles. “But I don’t think I could be friends with anything that sounds like a sneeze”.
“Rude. You will appreciate my Dutch heritage eventually”.
“Well I haven’t so far”. Charles turned to lean his back against the railing, turning his back on the noise and bustle below them. He took hold of Max’s hand and held it between his own. “You going to be all right?”
“Yeah”. Max said it on a sigh. “Just - it’ll take a while. Have to face the media about it. That’ll be fun”.
“We have all the time we need”, Charles said softly. “And now…” He leaned forward and kissed Max’s cheek. “I think you should take me to bed. I’ve thought of something else I can do to you”.
“Is it going to make me cry again?”
“Or scream. The neighbours may complain”.
Max laughed outright then and pulled Charles into a hug. “You have all my attention”.
Charles cupped Max’s face in his hands and kissed him. “Silly, silly man”, he said softly. “You asked me this morning what the matter was and I couldn’t tell you”. He shrugged. “And it’s this, pure and simple; it’s watching you move into another phase of your life and your career”. He rested his forehead against Max’s. “I’m so proud of you. That’s all”.
Max sighed and Charles felt him begin to relax. “Our next phase”, he said. “You’re the constant”.
“Yeah”, Charles agreed. “There’s a thought”.
The End