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Max was tired alright? Fucking tired. Of Red Bull, of racing, of Formula one, he just needed a break after the disastrous outcome of Monaco. He didn't even want to look back, but he needed to. Living so close to the race track he has no choice but to register the loud noise outside, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, it always snuck up on him. That's how he ended up on his balcony, watching everything unfold. He didn't bother staying at the paddock, watching the race from there, he couldn't. Not after this. His only prayer was that Charles would sweep in and take his well deserved home Grand Prix victory. If it can't be him, he needed it to be Charles.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by someone slamming open the balcony door neighboring his, dropping down to the floor and sobbing violently. Fuck. He knew very well who that balcony belonged to. The very person he needed to win that race. The broken cries of the Monegasque man pierced his heart like nothing before, if he thought he was upset at his car stalling, he was now falling into a deep depression over hearing, what he considered his other half, cry his eyes out.
Max realized Charles probably wasn't even aware he was out there, there's absolutely no way he would let Max see him this raw, this vulnerable.
He could just creep back into his place and pretend he never saw or heard anything, but his heart wouldn't allow it. He couldn't leave Charles like this, no matter how hurt he was about his own outcome.
“Charles?” He tested out, quietly, not wanting to startle the younger man.
Charles didn't react, he was too deep in his head to register the fact Max was also outside, that barely anything separated them.
“Charles, are you okay?” Max tried again, but to no avail. Logically he should give up, but he couldn't. Not like this. Everything in his body was telling him to do his best to comfort someone that the media considers his rival.
“Charlie?”
That's when Charles seemingly snapped out of his trance, tears still streaming down his face, broken sobs and whines escaping him, but he stood up and finally realized who was on the balcony next to his. He was met with an image of Max he didn't expect. It was clear he was also exhausted, angry at the outcome of his race, yes, but he was also looking at him in a way Charles didn't think anyone has ever looked at him before. Like he was something precious that was actively being broken. He looked like he was more sad for him than his own poor start and finish to the race.
“Max?”
“Charlie…what happened?”
There it is again, Charlie. Charles didn't know what possessed Max to call him that, but somehow it felt comforting in the moment. He felt like he was a little boy being soothed by his family when something went wrong. It was silly of him to think like that, maybe, but it's where his mess of a brain went, and it helped.
“Max I- I don't even know where to start,” his tears were spilling again, the moment of peace he found to say Max's name disappearing the moment he tried to say anything more. He was crying again, loud choked sobs echoing across Monaco, drowning out all other noises, even of the race going on, or at least that's how it seemed like to Max.
He couldn't even hold himself up properly, forcing his full weight on the railing as he cried his eyes out. Max didn't even think before he was reaching over, grabbing Charles' hand. The Monegasque looked up at him for just a moment before he let his head fall down again. The Dutchman, dealing with an almost primal need to comfort the other man, began to gently rub circles over the other man's hand, trying his best to soothe him while not being able to be with him. God every cell in him was screaming at him to grab Charles, pull him into his chest and never let him go. Probably not something he should feel for his so-called rival but he can't be fucked to care about it right now. The only thing he cared about was making Charles stop crying.
Them doing this over their balconies was becoming increasingly difficult, both with Charles and his sobbing and with Max and his needs.
“Charlie?” Charles looked up at Max upon hearing his name again.
“Is it okay if I come over?” It took Charles a bit to compose himself. He couldn't fathom why Max was asking that, why would Max want to come over when he's just wallowing in his own Ferrari made grief. Did he want company? He didn't know. But surely Max couldn't make it worse, right? He gave Max a weak nod and that's all it took for the Dutchman to go rushing out of his own apartment.
The gentle knock came soon after, Charles finding it kind of cute that even though he asked to come over he's still knocking. Slowly making his way over to the door, he opened it just enough to let him through. He didn't need anyone else seeing him like this. The moment the door shut behind the two of them, Max was wrapping Charles up in a tight hug. Charles didn't even register what was happening, his body instinctively clinging onto the taller man, starting to sob again. It felt better like this though, he wasn't losing himself, he had Max there, an anchor to reality. Any self respecting person would feel embarrassed over breaking down in their rival's arms, but Ferrari did such a number on him by giving him such a shit and unreliable car that all of that was long lost. To him right now, Max was there, Max cared, Max was safe. Max was the one rushing over to his apartment to hold him and comfort him, not anyone from his team, not the ghost of Ferrari's success that he's been chasing for years, not his best friend (granted Pierre was dealing with his own horrors, so Charles wouldn't hold it against him), but Max.
He fully broke down, trusting Max to hold what was left of him together, he was practically limp in the blond man's arms. Max, as strong as he was, knew he wouldn't do well if they stayed like this for a while, holding the other man up in a hug wasn't stable or comfortable for him.
“Charlie?” Again with the Charlie. The two of them weren't ones that called each other anything but their first and last name so having this soft nickname be used was doing all kinds of things to Charles.
“Hm?” Was the only thing he managed in response.
Max needed to think of a way to word this where Charles knew he wasn't being a burden to Max, but that Max genuinely couldn't hold him up like this forever. He made a mental note to work out more so he could hold him like this forever if a similar situation ever arose again.
“Do you want to go get more comfortable? On the couch maybe?” It was as safe a question as any that Max could come up with, he hoped Charles wouldn't think he was being too much for him. To his delight, the brunet nodded, untangling himself from Max, finally putting some weight on his own two feet. Max also felt a gentle hand in his.
Charles led them through his apartment, tears still gently spilling, but it was clear he didn't have much more in him, to the living room, a massive luxurious couch in front of them.
“How *hic*…do you want to do this?” Charles wasn't sure of the logistics that Max had in mind and in all honestly Max didn't even know himself, he would need to improvise. Letting go of Charles' hand, he sat down on the couch and patted his lap. Were there better ways of doing it? Maybe, but this is the only thing Max could think of. Charles flushed red at the invitation, causing Max to realize what he had actually done.
“Shit- no, not like that just-” his rambling was cut off by Charles gently and carefully climbing into his lap. He was straddling him, but neither has the energy to realize how sexual this could seem to the outside. Charles wrapped his arms around Max's neck, pulling the two of them flush with each other. He didn't have many tears left to shed, but he still tried to. His sobs were broken and empty, Max was heartbroken listening to it. His strong arms wrapped around the younger man, somehow making the even closer, they were practically one being now. Max gently trained shapes on Charles' back, hoping the repetitive careful touch would soothe him, provide him with at least a little bit of comfort.
They stayed like that for what seemed like ages, the sunset lighting up the room, bathing them in ethereal light. Charles stopped crying long ago, his body having nothing more to give, yet he let himself be held, caressed and cherished by Max. It felt nice after everything.
He knew this probably meant something either of them were ready to talk about right now, but it didn't mean he didn't want some sort of answer as to why this happened. It was a risk asking about it, it could break whatever bubble they were in, but he needed to know.
“Max?”
“Yeah, Charlie?” The nickname made him feel butterflies. He knew it was stupid but it worked like a charm to make him even more nervous about this.
“This…why did you do this?”
“What do you mean?”
“You had a shit race yourself, why are you comforting me?”
“You were crying on your balcony, was I supposed to just leave you there?”
A silence stretched between them, Charles obviously debating on how he should answer this.
“Yes,” was the answer he settled on. He didn't know if that was the right or wrong answer and looking at Max didn't help. He looked heartbroken all over again, just like earlier when he saw him sobbing on the balcony.
“Charlie,” he started, gently teaching up one hand to cup the other's cheek. “I would have never left you to cry alone, not in a million years.” There it is, the easy honestly that always comes from Max. Charles didn't know how Max said everything that was on his mind like that, so raw and real.
“But why Max, I don't understand.”
“I don't either, but I just knew I couldn't leave you there. Everything in me was screaming at me to comfort you, so I tried my best to.”
“I still- why Max?”
“I don't like seeing you sad.”
“You say that as if it was just that simple!”
“Sometimes it can be.”
And maybe it could. He gave up questioning Max, going back to relaxing in his arms, he was too tired to keep pushing forward.
“We need to talk about this at some point.”
“Yeah we do, Charlie. But neither of us can do that now, so just let me take care of you.”
And Charles let him. They stayed like that for a while, sun already far beyond the horizon, moonlight shining through the massive windows. Eventually Max decided if he was going to stay, they needed to get comfortable in bed.
“Charlie?”
“Mmmmm what it is?” The Monegasque was already falling asleep, head tucked into Max's chest.
“Do you want to go to bed?”
“Why?”
“You can't sleep like this, you're going to wake up so sore and so will I.”
It was sound logic, Charles had to admit, but he didn't want to get off from Max.
“Carry me there?”
“You'll need to guide me,” Max says, moving Charles around a little before picking up up bridal style and getting up from the couch. Charles, startled, let out a little yelp as Max picked him up. This was a much more comfortable way to hold Charles, Max noted, a lot nicer than the shorter just throwing his body weight at him while crying. He could almost get used to this.
Charles told Max where to go and Max followed, finding the brunets bedroom in no time. He gently placed Charles down in the middle of the bed, a smirk on his face, clearly happy with his work. Charles rolled his eyes before reaching out and tugging Max down onto the bed with him. Max caught himself just in time so he didn't squish Charles, but there wasn't much space between them. Charles gave him a cheeky smile, before tugging him down on top of him properly. That felt nice. A human weighted blanket.
“Charlie are you okay? I don't want to hurt you, I know we were just playing around and-”
“Maxie, shush. I like this.”
“You do?”
“The weight on top of me…it feels nice.”
Max slowly let himself relax, adjusting himself on top of Charles so both could be more comfortable. This wasn't how he foresaw this evening going but as long as Charles was comfortable, he was happy.
“We can't sleep like this, Charlie.”
“Why not?”
“Well we're still both fully clothed, first of all,” Max started, causing Charles to laugh at the implications. “Not like that! You know what I mean. Secondly you have gorgeous skin and I know you would hate yourself if you didn't do your skincare before bed.”
“Gorgeous huh?”
“Everyone with eyes can see it, Charlie.”
“You pay enough attention to notice everything, don't you?”
“It's hard not to when it's you.” Honesty came easy to Max and no matter how long Charles has known him, it never fails to surprise him. He felt happy hearing that, but also a little nervous. Just what exactly has Max picked up on? Could he know some things about him he doesn't even notice he does?
“C'mon, let's get you ready for bed, princess,” Max said with a smirk, rolling off of Charles. The nickname caused the Monegasque to punch the Dutchman's shoulder, not hard enough so that it mattered, but hard enough so that Max would remember not to call him that again. Apparently it didn't even have that effect as Max just laughed at his antics. To Max it seemed like Charles was finally feeling better. He was glad he could help.
Charles insisted Max came with, his touch grounding, helping him to forget about everything that happened.
What that led to was Charles doing his skincare with Max's chest pressed against his back, the Dutchman's arms holding them close. If you squint at it, it was almost domestic in a way. Both of them enjoyed it more than either would admit. Occasionally Charles would squirm and turn around just to put a tiny bit of product onto Max's cheek, nose, chin, anything he could get ahold of. Max rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, even though in reality he was nothing but fond about Charles and this little quirk. His skincare took about twice as long but it was worth it. Getting out of the bathroom, Charles began rummaging through his clothes, trying to find something Max could sleep in. He landed on an old worn out t-shirt with the number 16 on it (that he would swear he only gave to Max because it was big enough to fit, not because he really wanted to see him in his number) and some loose sweats.
“You're going to have me looking like your biggest fan here, Charlie.”
“You already accepted that fact when I gifted you that copy of F1 with only me on it.”
“I wear that title with pride.”
“Prove it then,” he said, tossing Max the clothes. Max (the charmer that he is) stripped right then and there, making Charles nearly have a heart attack. Does this man have no shame? Charles should look away, but he didn't. He let his eyes wander over Max and his well built figure, his broad shoulders, small waist, strong legs, all of it. And to think that all he needed to get all of this to himself was having a….traumatic race weekend. Right. He was trying to forget about that. Staring at his insanely hot rival should help. Max could feel Charles' eyes on him, it made him feel more confident than he ever has in his life, if that was even possible. Knowing someone like Charles likes what he sees was a massive ego boost.
Wearing Charles' clothes was interesting, they clearly weren't made for his measurements (his shoulders definitely being way too big for it, even if it was an old stretched shirt), but they still suited him in a way. At least that's what Max guessed based off of Charles' expression.
“So, what do you think? Does this prove I'm your biggest fan, Charlie?” Max said with a smirk.
Charles needed a moment to collect himself. A confident Max wearing his clothes? God he could definitely get used to this and already wanted to see more.
“I don't think it does quite yet.”
“What else do you need?”
“Stay with me.”
“I was already planning to.”
“Not just tonight…for a little longer after.”
“Anything you need, I will give you.”
Charles smiled. Maybe this was going to be okay. He changed into his own sleep clothes, not bothering to leave the room since Max didn't either. He also caught the Dutchman staring more than once as he did so. The attraction was mutual, it seemed, that was definitely something they had to experiment with when they felt better. Or at least Charles was going to exploit it for his own gains. But that's for later.
For now, Charles climbed into bed, Max cautiously following after. Charles spent no time getting comfortable, laying his head on Max's chest, draping an arm around him. It took a minute for Max to figure out what to do, but eventually it ended with the Dutchman having his hand in the Monegasques' hair, gently playing with it. It was nice, peaceful, a much needed moment of quiet after the chaos of their day. They drifted off, relaxed in each other's arms, their worries melting away. The only thing that mattered was here and now. And right now, they had each other.
Waking up was interesting, the two of them being a mess of tangled limbs, neither was exactly sure how they got into that position as they slept. While they couldn't figure out how they got into that situation and position, they didn't exactly care, it was comfortable, it was nice, the more of them that was touching, the better. It soothed both of them, grounding them. Max was the first one to break the silence.
“Good morning, Charlie,” his voice was rough, raspy, it did things to Charles that it definitely shouldn't.
“Good morning,” Charles still sounded extremely tired, Max wouldn't blame him after everything that happened. It was clear Charles didn't want to wake up, doing what he could to bury himself inside of Max, practically trying to crawl into his skin.
“Don't want to start the day yet?”
“No…”
“Then we don't have to, we can stay here for as long as you want.”
“You'll stay?”
“I meant what I said yesterday. I'll do anything for you. Always.”
“Always, I could get used to that.”
“Me too, schat, me too.”