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Summary
"Okay," Charles retorted, but there was a genuine laugh in his voice as he swatted Max's hip and stood up, pulling a clean white team shirt over his head. The frantic, self-destructive fog had mostly lifted. "I love you."
Max paused, his hand dropping to his hip as he gave Charles a slow, unimpressed look. "Yeah, only when I am catering to your exact culinary demands. I feel used, your highness."
OR,
Holy copium after the 2026 Barcelona GP. Basically, Charles is dramatic, Max is a simp for the aforementioned drama queen, and Oscar just wants to know who has custody of him for Baku.
