#norlestappen

The night life of Monaco is in full swing but Max pays no mind to it. His eyes are on Charles—who has him by the wrist and dragging him to their usual spot.

The place is nothing short of elaborate. Bright lights and glitter on the stage. Neon lights and the usual drunken crowd at close to midnight on a Thursday.

Charles' new obsession goes by the name Cherry. Usually clad in red, six inch platform heels and lipstick the color of Max's insides.

And glitter—a lot of glitter. They come home covered in it.

Charles makes a beeline right for where her bouncer is waiting. He's not the most intimidating person at first glance—a bit on the petite side—smile so cute Max wants to squish his face. Wouldn't mess with him though. They've witnessed Lando bashing in the face of some guy who looked at Cherry the wrong way.

Lando makes eye contact with him and smiles, that warm welcoming thing that draws people closer. "You want the same room a usual?" He cocks his head to the side and almost looks innocent. Like he's not been working in a place that deals heavily in drugs, violence and sex, for who knows how long.

"And if you could lick some of the glitter off her before she comes in, that would be great." He's supposed to be joking, but he'd honestly love to see Lando pick that girl apart.

The entire reason they are here is Charles' newly discovered voyeuristic tendencies. He likes to watch—and Max, ever the provider, likes to give Charles his hearts desires.

Max is the one that picked out Cherry and Charles fell in love. Says that he doesn't care it's probably fake—there is something about being reduced down to nothing and forced to sit and watch that really gets him going. Sometimes ties him to the gaudy leather chair in the corner just to make it better. Max always rewards him well at the end. Cherry usually sucking him off until he's screaming.

Oh, how Max loves to hear him squeal.

"Seeing as I'm the one that put it on her, I don't want to be the one ruining my own hard work. I leave that to the paying costumers."

Max drops his head and laughs. Charles isn't laughing though, he's staring at something else. Eyes set on Lando's hands that reach to take the wad of cash the Monegasque is holding out to him.

Odd, but okay.

Lando leads them down the stairs and into the inner part of the club, avoiding the drunken dancers and high patrons. This section is lesser known, hidden away from prying eyes and meant to service those of a higher status.

Max and Charles just so happen to be at the top of the food chain. It's been five years since Max killed Jos and took Red Bull, just to have his forbidden lover burn Ferrari to the ground and join forces with him. Not because Ferrari was treating him badly aside from overworking the poor thing and occasionally usually him as a bargaining chip. Charles simply has a thing for destruction that lay doormat underneath the, at times, debilitating depression.

Max takes him to go light things on fire when it gets really bad. Honestly, what kind of husband would he be if he didn't?

They enter the room and Lando stands in the doorway. "Ah, I forgot to ask-" He holds up the payment again and the two mafia leaders exchange a glance. "You're free to take this back if you don't want to manage it, but we had a security issue last week."

"A security issue?"

"Yeah, some guy thought it would be great fun to drug Cherry up and beat her half to death. I only managed to notice because he knocked the door at one point, hard enough for me to get nervous and open it." Lando's face falls, eyes darkening. "I killed him, but Cherry is still a bit jumpy."

Max pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can you give us a minute to decide?"

"Yea sure, I'll go get her while you do." Lando closes the door behind him.

Charles exhales, loud, body slumping with it. "I was going to say we should burn the man but Lando beat us to it."

"How do we feel about Lando watching, then?" He smirks and traces the edge of Charles' jaw with an index finger. "From what I saw earlier, you don't mind looking at him too much."

"Have you seen his hands?"

"Yes, schat, I have."

"And you're telling me you don't want to oggle him?!"

"Oggle or fuck? Two different actions."

Charles thinks for a second, then, "Can we do both?"

Max goes to answer, to say Charles can try to seduce the bouncer, but the risk of getting decked will loom in the distance. The door opens before he can and in comes Cherry; clad in her red silky lingerie and heels.

She comes right for Max, ignoring Charles completely. "So," she whispers right up against his ear. "Have you reached a decision?" Her breath his warm and Max can already see his lover from the corner of his eye pouting.

"Lando is fine to watch the show, I guess." It's poised—a nonchalant answer to a question that throws a whole new player into the game.

Is this a game if they are the ones paying? It's all fake no matter how much Charles wants to think otherwise. He'd take the woman home in an instant if she let him.

Max undoes the ties to the sheer red camisole piece and watches it fall to the ground. Eyes fixated on perky nipples. He turns to Charles and gestures for him to take a seat right when Lando walks back in.

He seems unfazed by the scene—though he's probably probably seen Cherry undressed and undone on several occasions now. His feet plant themselves by the chair that Charles has made himself at home in.

"Do you like being watched then?" Max asks her back while guiding her to the bed in the middle of the room.

Her voice is smooth—no hint of fear in it. Maybe it's Lando giving her confidence. "Don't mind him, yeah? You promised you'd show me how the infamous Mad Max likes to get his hands dirty." She nips at his jaw.

The way she moves is lithe and seductive. Max could spend hours comparing her to a maine coon cat. Charles says she is a borzoi. Of course he would compare her to a dog.

It's an ongoing debate in their household. Daniel agrees with Max, but Daniel also is inclined to agree with Max given he's only a step away from being in charge should something happen to him or his husband. George, however, agrees with Charles—and that means this debate happens in the car in between George being pissed about having to drive them here twice a week.

And also everywhere else.

"Only my enemies call me Mad Max."

She bats her eyelashes ar him. "Would you prefer I call you daddy, then?"

Max is about to push her onto the bed and ravage her, but that stops him. He mouths at her neck, stubble tickling skin, then looks at Charles who has shiny eyes. His jeans look tight and uncomfortable now while Lando looks like he could care less. It's a bit amusing—Max decides he made a good call.

"I don't think I'd mind that."

~~~~~

Max and Charles leave her like they usually do: a mess. Not that she minds, she hates when they try to take care of her after the fact. Like they are working off some kind of guilt.

Lando passes her a robe and some slippers to wear back to the locker room. "It's different watching it. I think we should do that again."

"No." She takes him by the wrist and pulls him around the corner. "We've been given the order to kill them, remember? The more you watch, the more you get attached." She shoves him up against the wall and presses a thigh in between his legs. "Plus, I can fuck you better than Max ever could."

God, Lando melts in her hands. Brutal in a fight with a wit sharp enough to disarm anyone, long eyelashes and a smile to go with it, but to her—he's just Lando. The guy who cries at happy endings and whimpers when she puts a finger on his cock.

"It's dumb to take them out. They are the only order to crime Monaco has right now and you know it." His tone is whiny and it makes her want to edge him out where everyone can see. He's at his prettiest when he's crying for it. Pity they don't have time.

"It doesn't matter if we know it. Orders are orders." She sighs, body giving out finally. "We have a job to do."

Lando hugs her. Not the small kind they use in between clients—but the tight one that puts her back together when when the people here are ripping her apart. "Don't you want to forget though? Leave out training behind and just exist?"

"We both know we wouldn't last a day on our own." She's been in this longer than Lando. Not a crime family, not like Red Bull and Ferrari once were, but something darker. A mercenary for hire. Their bosses get the money and they get the task. Simple as that. Even if they are barely stating afloat, living off whatever pay Carlos gives them out of pity. "We have nothing to our names."

"We'd figure it out like we always do."

It's too good of a fantasy to be true and she wonders when Lando will realize this too.

~~~~~

"Max!" Daniel stands at the table, pulling Max and Charles out of their breakfast laughter. He's out of breath, lips twitching. "Somethings come up."

Max lazily props his head up on his fist. "And that would be?"

He throws a file on the table and Charles immediately grabs for it, pulling out its contents and laying it on the table.

And oh, they are so fucked.

Two familiar faces in each other them. In discussion with one of the bigger mercenary groups they let run around still because they aren't based in Monaco. They come here for business and that's it—do their jobs then leave.

Lando and Cherry, too familiar for them not to be noticed, even half obscured by dark clothing.

"Putain, how did we miss this?!"

They scramble to look through ever photograph while Charles comes up with possibilities. "It can't be real, I refuses to believe it."

"Okay, then lets go see them." He knows it's unlikely to be anything else—but he's been wrong before.

~~~~~

Charles marches into the club, determined, heavy footsteps that echo off the walls of a place that isn't supposed to be open yet. They head up the stairs to Carlos' office.

He runs the place, took Charles' suggestion of a name, and lets them do business here. He would know—should know—Carlos knows everything.

When they walk in, Carlos has his feet on the desk. Not a care in the world—one of the strippers sitting in his lap. A pretty thing he's seen around, but not beautiful like Cherry. Not cute like Lando, either.

Max slams the door behind him and folds his arms while Charles remains civilized and sits in the chair. "I want to know about Cherry and Lando."

Carlos laughs, removes his company, Charles is pretty sure his name is Bubbles, from his lap and sits up. "Who? I know many people, you'll have to he more specific."

"You don't know your own employees?" Max raises a brow.

"I have a lot of people working for me, Mr. Verstappen." Carlos shrugs, smile on his face still.

Max grits his teeth. "Cherry is one of the strippers, Lando is her security. A pretty memorable pair."

"Ah yes!" He claps his hands together. "Of course, Cherry said you two are her favorite regulars."

He's stalling—Charles can just barely make out how his face keeps shifting around like it can't decide the best approach. "We need their addresses."

"Well now, come on, I can't just give you the addresses of my employees." Carlos laughs again, shaking his head. Like Max and Charles are the ridiculous ones.

Max pulls a pistol out of his back pocket and clicks the safety of. The barrel of it pointed right for Carlos' head. Charles clears his throat, smirking. "Are you sure about that?"

~~~~~

When Lando gets to the door of their shitty little studio apartment, he knows something is off.

It's a paranoia thing they've developed after years always running to and from dangerous situations. A slip of paper in the door, towards the bottom where it's hard to notice, always left there before they head anywhere.

It's on the ground now. Both of them staring right at it. Which means someone opened their door.

He draws the guns he still has on him and Cherry (well, not anymore since she's off the clock) pulls a knife out of her bra.

They creep inside slowly. Feet quiet even with the creaky floors.

Lando's initial thought is that it's their bosses. They got the call to kill Max and Charles almost a month ago now—the two people they've been watching for over a year and fucking for four months of that.

They had the opportunities. Presented on a silver platter right in front of them.

Then they both choked.

The excuses are getting worse and patience is wearing thin. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd finally run out of time.

They won't last in re-training. They decided a couple years ago to die before that ever happened again . He can't live in isolation—not with the torture they get put through, and he refuses to work with another partner.

Cherry is his, and he is hers. Enough said.

Lando turns a corner, the singular lamp turned on to illuminate the faces of Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. "What the hell are you two doing here?!"

"Simple, really." The door closes behind them. Slams so hard he almost jumps but wills himself not too. "You two wanted to kill us, am I correct?" Max sounds so condescending part of Lando wants to ask outright if he'll kill them here instead.

This is worst case scenario now.

"Maybe, or maybe I just really wanted to lure you here." Cherry slips into a voice more sultry than her normal tone. The club voice—one Lando has only heard a handful of times. Her bedroom voice is much more familiar.

Specifically when he is getting fucked within an inch of his life. Or on the occasion she gets all soft and plaint because someone fucked her up on the right side of wrong, it'll come out. Different during those times, soft in a way that makes his insides twist.

Lando is not soft. He knows he's a mess. Has a tendency to cry during sex when it feels good and he still cannot figure out why.

"You're mercenaries, for McLaren… Non?" Charles finally looks up at them. "Here I thought maybe we could've been friend's."

Cherry laughs, a half hearted thing. "We could've been more, if that's what you wanted."

"Drop the act!"

The shouting hits home. Unexpected and wrong. Lando watches Max roll his eyes and Cherry's face fall.

Not her anymore. Just his partner. The love of his life. Completely fucking exposed.

"Fine, you want me to take off the mask?" She inches her way towards the corner and takes a pistol hidden in a jacket pocket hanging off a hook. She cocks it, flicks the safety off, and all at a speed that makes her look breathtaking. She points the barrel at Max's head, lips pressed into a tight line, "Consider this our introduction."

Another click from behind has Lando looking over his shoulder. Daniel, Max's second, also has a gun trained on her now. "Drop the gun, Cherry."

"What about me?!"

"You too, I guess." He wants to gape. This is fucking ridiculous.

Lando doesn't drop the gun though. He can see Max getting twitchy, the way Charles' anger is radiating off him. The smell of Daniel's sweat dripping from his forehead.

He panics. Takes his own gun and presses the barrel to his temple. Not a word leaves his mouth before Max is lowering his own weapon. "We need one of you alive."

"Take her then." For as scared as he is, his voice is oddly calm.

"Lando-" hers, on the other hand, is shaky now.

"You have more information. I'm useless to them."

What he wouldn't give to hold her in this moment and make it all go away. Years together leading up to this point. "Doesn't matter! We said-"

"I know, but we don't have a means to fight this one out. Most likely there are more in the hall and four outside of the window."

Charles furrows his brows together. Face all scrunched up in surprise. "How did you know that?"

Lando ignores him. Still focused on his partner. "Best we can do right now is make sure one of us lives and I'll be damned if it's not you who does."

He's so wrapped up looking into eyes he consistently gets lost in, ones that are panicked and searching, that he's nit in tune with anything else. Heart beating fast, lungs jumping, hands shaking. Lando hasn't felt real fear in a long time—so it consumes him. Unfocused him enough that he doesn't notice the man next to him.

Only the sharp pain to his head and then the floor.

~~~~~

Charles spends way too much time looking around the apartment when he shouldn't, but these two intrigue him now.

Yeah, okay, they were lying, but that doesn't mean shit. Not when there are Polaroid photos with them holding weapons at major landmarks, making silly faces at each other. The cactus on the table with 'cutie' written in sharpie on the clay pot.

He can't ignore the ache in his chest when he sees bare cabinets and an empty fridge, two cups of water by the sink, and a half finished package of gummy worms on the counter. There is a pile of laundry in the corner and unorganized drawers, but the books are tucked neatly onto the shelf and organized by genre and series. Harry Potter is included, and that already wins them some brownie points in his book.

Then there are the bloody rags hanging up in the bathroom. The notebooks of mission logs that only make him want to cry. Personal entries about emotions and what they would do if they ever got out—the scores they have to settle.

It's the bedside drawer that has him blushing though. Not what he expected, if he's honest.

"They love each other."

"Yeah, and they are specially trained from childhood, Charlie." Max closes the bathroom door where the two are tied together in the shower. "I'm shocked we're not dead."

"I think they care."

"And I think they are dangerous."

There is a long pause, the sound of footsteps from those ransacking the place on Max's order fills his ears. How is he supposed to convince Max of anything when Cherry pointed a gun at him.

Daniel breaks the silence by handing them a file. Charles takes it curiously, how he'd not found it already is a miracle. "Found this inside of a vent. I don't think McLaren is what we think they are."

"Just a bunch of mercenaries, non?" He opens the file and the contents make him want to gag. Pictures of supposedly the two in the shower right now being trained, but it's certainly not conventional. "Created, more like. What kind of torture is this?"

Max gets a haunted look n his eyes—a hint of understanding there. "The kind that breeds compliance."

They take them in, the minutes passing with horrifying slowness.

Until his ears catch the sound of something behind the closed door. Angry murmurs passed back and forth.

Charles nudges the door open enough to hear them and tells himself he's it's for safety and not because he's being nosy.

"Lando Norris I swear my favorite knife that if you ever do that to me again-" hot, seething rage. Not a tone he's ever heard from Cherry—or anyone, for that matter. Almost wet in a way.

"I'm sorry-"

"I don't fucking care!" She sniffles, voice wavering halfway through. "I refuse to live without you. We have a deal, remember? Either we both live, or neither of us do."

"What about McLaren?"

"We don't have the resources to pull that off. McLaren own us and they always will." There is a pause, then a thud followed by a whimper of pain. "Which is why if you ever try to leave me again I'll fucking, like, edge you until you're sobbing-"

Charles, not thinking like he should be, runs to presumably Cherry's bedside table and rips open the drawer. Yanks out, he once again assumes, is Cherry's strap-on. Then he throws himself into the bathroom while they are both half in tears and half arguing to throw it at her.

They blink at him, he blinks at them. "You sounded like you might need this."

"A bit hard to fuck all tied up, mate." Lando looks like he's fighting off his laugher now. "Should undo them, we can put on a show and then everyone parts ways and pretends it didn't happen!"

"You just want me to fuck you-"

"Is that such a bad thing?!"

"We are in danger!"

"I am in danger either way."

Max hits his head on the wall. "Would both of you please shut up for two fucking seconds? I want to know what McLaren really is. Of you can tell me that, maybe I'll consider letting you live."

"Depends on how they find you. For some it's debt, others a choice." Cherry takes a shaky inhale.

"And for you two?"

"My first memory is with McLaren. Lando came later—dad got into some trouble and he was the collateral."

"I knew that name was familiar! Is he not super successful now?"

"Yeah, now," Lando scoffs, head shaking, "A bit late though, not like he can just buy me back."

Max looks ready to tear his hear out, hands rubbing against his face. Then, surprisingly, "You're coming to stay with us."

Everything stops. The bathroom light buzzing, the footsteps, the way Lando licks his lips. Nothing penetrates the shock Max has just thrown at them.

"I'm sorry… what?!" Charles feels like his brain might explode.

"Your cupboards are empty, you're living off whatever half rate Carlos is paying you to keep your cover, McLaren most certainly isn't getting you two back, and by the look of it—you're both just scared." He kneels down and undoes the ropes, slowly now, like he's trying not to spook them. A weird shift for Max, he's not normally this soft unless he actually likes someone. "You'll stay with us."

~~~~~

She can't understand Max's reasoning aside from how he looks at her and Lando with the same soft smile he reserves for Charles. He calls her by her name and makes sure there are gummy worms tucked away where only her and Lando know where to find them.

The first night they sleep in their own room, borrowing clothes out of Max and Charles' closet. They spend most of the night watching for signs that it's a trap, only resting in shifts. But the second night they are sleeping on the couples floor like kittens.

On the third they are invited to sleep in their bed and that determinedly means safety. Even if Max sleeps with a gun under his pillow and Charles with a knife under his.

Her and Lando tiptoe around the house and sneak their food. Until they are caught and forced to eat dinner at the table. Charles said he made Max learn to do it too, just as Max taught him how to pick himself back up after a fall.

They don't put a name to it, not really. Sometimes they kiss, and those kisses occasionally turn into fucking. Max doesn't let her pretend and slip the mask of Cherry back on. Lando also gets to be the plaything in a couple of dick measuring contests of which she always wins and holds it over them.

There is fear though. That one day McLaren will come for them, with everything they have. A couple of MIA assets that know too much is a bit of a security risk.

That worry all seeps away as Lando wraps an arm around her and whispers in her ear. "When if come, we'll handle it. I think Max and Charles might actually burn the world for us if we asked."

"We're becoming spoiled."