benji ⊹₊˚MV³ CL¹⁶ OP⁸¹ YT²²˚₊⊹

Charles' thought what happened with Max would be a one time thing.

It was not.

In fact, it slowly kept happening after every race. Doesn't matter if he placed P1 or DNFed, Max was there, a constant.

The Ferrari employees don't even bat an eye when they see him weaving his way through hospitality heading to the drivers rooms. Fred has thanked him, saying Charles has been happier and by extension performing better.

Charles placed P1.

Max DNFed. Stroll crashing into him as he was being lapped.

Charles was waiting in his room.

Max wasn't coming. Charles got impatient, so he decided it was his turn to come to Red Bull instead.

He wouldn't say he was mad at Max, but he was definitely mildly annoyed. They had a routine, he wasn't happy it was being disrupted, even if Max probably had a good reason to not come.

Was he going to find him for an admittedly petty reason? Yeah, sure. But sue him, he was petty.

A part of him also wanted to make sure Max was alright. The crash wasn't horrible, he got out of the car with no visible signs of injury. But he still needed to see that with his own eyes.

It was uncharted territory, he was very out of place. He hesitated before entering the Red Bull hospitality, but he got this far, he wasn't about to let it go to waste. 

Slipping through, the sea of navy washed over him. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He was nervous, very much so. A thought crossed his mind-how did Max do this the first time? Was he also this scared? Or was he so set on his goal that these things didn't bother him?

He shook those thoughts and went on. No one seemed to pay much attention to him thankfully, it looked like he was going to be able to make it without issues. Making it to the hallway which had the driver's room, someone was walking out of the one with Max's number on it. It wasn't Max. It was GP.

“Careful, he isn't in a good mood. And please don't make too much noise, for his sake.”

That's the only thing he said before he passed him by as if nothing was amiss. As if a Ferrari driver wasn't standing in Red Bull territory. He pressed on, making it to Max's room.

He knocked. A practiced rhythm.

Silence.

“Max?”

The door opened and Charles' heart broke. Max looked awful, not in the same way the Monegasque did, but it was clear something was wrong.

His original intentions when he reached Max were thrown fully out the window upon seeing this. He wasn't going to be childishly angry at a man that looked devastated. Everything in him was screaming to fix it, to help him. He may have been okay physically, but emotionally? Definitely not.

Max didn't say anything, but Charles slipped through and closed the door. The silence was an invitation in Max's case.

They didn't sit on the couch, they didn't say a word, they stared at each other.

And then Charles moved.

He embraced Max, holding him tightly, the Dutchman reciprocating. Max didn't cry, but he was trembling, and Charles wished he could do anything to make it stop.

They stayed like that for a while, words weren't needed, not for Max. This was all he needed, this was enough. His face buried in the other driver's neck, arms holding them both impossibly close, that's everything he needed to feel a little at peace after that.

Max's grip was getting weaker and weaker, he was tired of everything, exhausted of the horrible result that wasn't even his fault.

Charles dropped the hug, but he reached for Max's hand. He led them to the couch, and then patted his lap.

Max looked up at him, then back at his lap, then back up at him. He looked puzzled, but he obeyed, resting his head.

Charles was happy with the result, one hand going over to play with Max's hair. A small pleased sound escaped the Dutchman, Charles mentally compared it to a cat purring. He could see the tension leaving Max's shoulders, meaning this was a success.

They stayed quiet for a while, neither feeling the need to speak. The silence between them was comfortable, needed, in Max's case, even though he had no clue how Charles was aware of that fact.

“Thank you for coming, Charles,” were the first words said in that room.

“You don't need to thank me,” Charles did his best to keep his voice low, as to not trigger the Dutchman, “you would have done this for me too. I am only repaying the favor.”

The Dutchman hummed as a response. They fell into silence once more.

“You didn't speak at all, why?”

“GP told me to not make too much noise.”

Max chuckled, there was probably an implication hidden somewhere there that Charles didn't pick up on right away.

“I will need to thank him in that case.”

“Is talking…is noise okay now?”

“Not fully, but better. I can still hear the damn electricity buzzing and it's driving me insane.”

“You can hear that?”

“Noise gets too much sometimes, when it does I can focus on everything and I hate it, makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. Ironic considering our line of work, it's not like it's ever quiet.”

“Is that why you slip away so easily?”

“I need a moment to myself sometimes, yes.”

Charles filed this information away, for what purpose, he wasn't really sure, but it felt important for him to catalogue every little detail about Max.

“Is it…are you…is this okay?”

“Yes, you didn't push, you didn't ask questions, you stayed quiet when you were told to even without knowing why. I appreciate that. A lot of people try to push boundaries. You do not. I respect that.”

“I am glad you feel that way about me.”

The conversation stopped there, both of them feeling like they've said enough. They spent what felt like hours together, Max with his head in Charles' lap, Charles with his hand in Max's hair. They felt at peace.

“Don't you have to go out and celebrate?” 

Charles almost forgot about his own placement.

“I don't have to do anything.”

Max chuckled at the response.

“So you won't go?”

“Yes.”

“Even if your team really wants you?”

“Yes.” 

Charles felt he had so much more to say, but he wasn't like Max, he struggled to say exactly what he wanted. Luckily for him, Max didn't push further.

“Thank you for staying.”

That's it. A podium in 2026. Finally.

Max was happy, very happy. Was it caused by George's engine deciding to kill itself and McLaren taking notes from Ferrari's strategy team? Yes. It's a race though, and anything can happen (and it usually did.)

He missed the post race rituals, parking up in parc fermé, showering Lewis and Kimi in champagne, the feeling of being up there was something he longed to feel again, and he did. There was one thing he felt was missing, though.

A Ferrari driver was up there, yes, but it wasn't his Ferrari driver. 

It's not that he didn't like or respect Lewis, he did, but it wasn't Charles. It wasn't the boy he grew up karting with, the boy who he's had countless of fights with, on and off track, the now man who pushed him to become better and better every year, lest he fall back and be forced to stare at the rear of the Monegasques' car till eternity.

P4, one step off the podium, that's where his Ferrari driver finished. He heard that Charles was having issues during free practice, sprint quali, quali and now the race, but he still held out hope. If there was anyone that can bring a shitbox onto a podium, it's him.

But he wasn't there. He was over 30 seconds behind Max. Max was the last person the podium had room for and no matter how much he would be willing to bend the rules and fight someone over it, in the end he was still faster than Charles. Charles wasn't with him.

He wasn't one for big celebrations, not anymore, they lose the appeal after winning four world championships. He didn't care about staying behind with his team, he cared about finding Charles. 

He wasn't even out of his sticky champagne covered race suit before he went and speed walked over to Ferrari. He got a lot of questionable looks, but no one stopped him, seemingly being too busy with Lewis and his placement.

It felt like an eternity until he reached the door he was looking for. Face to face with a bright red 16, he knocked.

“PUTAIN DE MERDE, I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Charles, it's me.”

He heard some shuffling from in the room, before the door opened just a crack.

Charles looked wrecked, red puffy eyes, his race suit still on, hair an absolute mess. Max's first, very unhelpful, thought was cute. His second thought was that maybe coming here was a mistake, that the other driver needed space, he's going to cuss him out, kick him out, and it's going to ruin whatever friendship they have.

“Why are you here, Max,” Charles said, firm but sad. “You got P3, a podium, go out and celebrate instead of rubbing it in my face.”

“I don't want to do that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to make sure you're okay.”

Charles stepped back, clearly shocked. They could be considered friends, yes, but not the type to check up on each other after a race, not the type where one goes intruding in the rival team's hospitality unit to make sure the other is feeling alright. This was a very new development.

“Why?” Charles wasn't sure if he should trust Max, if he can believe the other man is truly here just to check up. 

“You finished P4, over 30 seconds behind me, you look like you've been crying and probably throwing things around in your room. That warrants a check in, no?”

Charles stared, analyzing Max. The other driver was nothing if not insanely blunt, he has no reason to lie about this.

With a sigh, he stepped away and opened the door just enough to let Max in. He took the invitation and ran with it, quickly slipping in.

Assessing the room, he was correct about his earlier assumption, the room was a mess, it looked like a whirlwind ran through it. Couch cushions thrown, helmet on the ground, a glass smashed, it wasn't a pretty sight.

Max didn't comment on it, instead he picked up the discarded cushions, placed them back and patted the space next to him. Charles reluctantly obliged, sitting next to the older man.

“So.”

“So?”

“What happened?”

Charles sighed, is this really Max's approach to comfort? Nonetheless, he had a lot of things to say.

“What happened? It's more of what didn't happen. I have been complaining about the car since we first went out in free practice but they refuse to listen! I say the setup is bad, they don't adjust it, I say I want to try something else, they force their own ideas instead of my own, I cannot have anything! I tell them something is wrong and they tell me they cannot tell what it is right now! I needed to tell them to stop talking to me on the radio because they are a hindrance and not a help!” 

Charles ranted and Max listened. As he went on, he felt the pressure becoming lighter.

“It is like this, they act like they do not care about me! My own team that I poured my blood and sweat into does nothing to help me! Max I-...I don't know how much more I can bleed for them before I don't have anything else left to give.”

It felt nice, saying this to someone else, even if that person is his rival. His rival that is now in Ferrari's hospitality, in his driver's room, sitting on a couch next to him.

“They don't deserve you.”

“What?”

“Don't act shocked, Charles. We both know you're too good for them.”

That put a halt to his rant.

“But they're my everything. You know why I cannot leave them.”

A beat of silence.

“Yes, I do,” Max said, “But I also don't like seeing you ruin yourself and beat yourself up over a bad result that wasn't your fault. Two things can be true at once.”

“I don't know what else to do, I feel like I need to defend Ferrari with my life, if something goes wrong it always needs to be my fault. Cannot be my team.”

“Even though you know you did nothing wrong and did everything you could to drag that car into the place it ended up in.”

“Yes.”

Max sighed, it's not like he wasn't aware of Charles' devotion to Ferrari, but he still hated just how much the team hurt him and he let it happen.

“Can I…give you a hug?”

Charles tensed, looking at Max. Max wasn't one to offer hugs to anyone but his childre- the rookies. The paddock knew about that, how he was picky with who he touched. Pats on the back and handshakes were okay for everyone, but anything past that and you had him flinching away unless you were one of the few very specific people Max deemed okay to touch. God did he really look that much of a mess that Max pities him?

“Why?”

“That wasn't a no,” and within seconds, strong arms were wrapping around the Monegasque. 

His first instinct was to scream at the fact Max's race suit was still sticky from the podium celebrations, but his second instinct had him wrapping his own arms around the Dutchman.

It felt nice, nicer than he ever thought it would, but it wasn't like he was the type to think about what kind of hugs Max gives. But now he knew.

He knew Max was a solid warmth, his arms held him tight, Charles’ face buried in the other man's neck, fitting together perfectly. And now that he knew, he didn't want it to stop. Ever.

He didn't even register when he started crying, all he knew is that suddenly there were tears streaming down his face and he was ugly sobbing in his rival's arms.

Max didn't move away, didn't flinch, instead one of his hands found themselves in the Monegasques' hair, playing with it, trying to do what he can to soothe Charles.

“It's okay Charlie, I got you.”

Charles cried and cried and cried and Max sat there patiently through all of it.

“I- *hic* I'm just so tired Max!”

“I know Charlie, I know. It's okay, you're okay, you can let go, I got you.”

That was all Charles needed. He melted into Max's touch, Max's embrace, he was fully pliant.

Max noticed this, a small smile playing on his lips. He held the Monegasque impossibly close, gently playing with his hair and whispering sweet reassuring things to him.

Charles' crying eventually subdued, leaving his eyes red, puffy, glassy and, in Max's opinion, gorgeous.

Their faces were only inches apart, a dangerous thought crossed both their minds. No one acted on it. The hug broke apart. They were back to sitting side by side.

Charles leaned over, resting his head on Max's shoulder. Max's arm snuck around him, pulling him closer.

They stayed like that for a while, a comfortable silence washing over them. Neither of them wanted to move, they knew if they did, they would be risking breaking whatever fragile thing was going on between them right now.

Charles was the first to speak up.

“Max?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, schat.”

---

The heavy pounding of the rain echoed through the halls. No amount of rescheduling could have made this day driveable. The track was practically flooded, the unrelenting storm showing no signs of stopping.

It was disappointing for the grid, obviously, but they were happy they weren't being forced out in these conditions. This meant an absurd amount of free time for everyone, now not needing to be worried about the stress of a race.

Grid Omegas (the better group chat)

Charles: 

I cannot stand being still for much longer, the Ferrari motorhome is so boring and Lewis isn't good company right now

George:

I feel you mate, this is horrible. All that anticipation and pre race adrenaline for nothing, I feel like I can't relax after that

Lando:

nest?

Gabi:

That actually is not a bad idea

Arvid:

Liam is with the red bull boys, I can sneak you into my driver's room here

George:

Won't there still be employees to question us?

Lando:

they can eat shit

Charles:

Not the wording I would have used but yes, in this case I agree with Lando 

Gabi:

I can ask Nico to deal with anyone that wants to oppose us

Lando:

no alphas, its girls night

Charles:

We are not girls?

Arvid:

Are you guys coming or not?

George:

I'm on my way and I'm picking everyone up in the process. Everyone get ready and bring some items of yours with.

---

And that's how they ended up in front of the VCARB motorhome, mostly dry, with some items that smelled the most like comfort to each respective Omega. Arvid was waiting for them, eagerly leading the group to his driver's room. Of course, they got some questioning looks, but George's soccer mom stare made sure no one actually dared to speak up.

The nest the VCRAB driver already had wasn't going to be big enough for all of them, so they all got to work fixing it up. After a while, they had what they deemed to be an acceptable nest. Playing Tetris with their bodies as they got in, the smell of content omegas filled the room.

“This is a lot nicer than racing.”

And then their respective phones started pinging with a different group chats notifications. With a collective groan, they silenced their phones and went back into relaxing, whatever the others wanted could wait.

---

Grid chat (the actual only good group chat)

Lewis:

Did any of the other omegas mysteriously disappear?

Oscar:

Lan’s gone I think, I was taking a nap and now he's not here

Nico:

Gabi looked anxious, I saw him leaving with what I think were nesting items, I think the race being cancelled is stressing them out.

Alex:

They are probably in one of their rooms, give them space.

Max:

Considering no one is responding Alex is probably right about that

Kimi:

So they're out having fun but we aren't??? Unfair…

Ollie:

Yeah! We should all hang out too!

Oscar:

But didn't Nico mention Gabi being stressed? How is that them having fun?

Lewis:

They find a way to comfort themselves usually, it's their way of enjoying time.

Liam:

I'm already with Max and Isack if the rest of you want to join?

Isack: 

Is there even space for everyone?

Max:

Realistically, no.

Valtteri:

Me and Checo are cooking if anyone wants to join us instead.

Fernando:

I will be there.

Carlos:

Me too, sounds like a good way to pass the time

Kimi:

So everyone that isn't going to hang out with the grandpas, let's go to Red Bull!

Fernando:

I will remember how you spoke about us.

Pierre:

Kimi you are brave saying that to him.

But me and Franco will be coming to Red Bull

Franco:

You are dragging me there to see if Fernando kills Kimi for saying that

Pierre:

I never said or implied such a thing

Lewis:

I'll start planning the funeral 

Fernando:

He is too young for death, he will, however, remember this.

Alex:

Please don't be too harsh on the kid

Max:

Your Omega wouldn't be too happy about that, would he?

Alex:

What?

Ollie:

No offence but I don't think George wins in a fight against Nando

Kimi:

But he has the stare tho!

image69272628292.png

(Image of George looking very angry)

Fernando:

He cannot fight.

Max:

We went off topic, how many of you should we expect? We know about Pierre and Franco

Kimi:

Me and Ollie!

Pierre:

If you live

Lewis:

I can join

Alex:

I need to come to ensure Kimi's safety

Nico:

I will join Valtteri but you youngsters have fun!

Esteban:

Since Ollie is going I will go too, I don't want him getting into trouble.

Max:

I'm assuming that's all since knowing Oscar the kid is asleep again.

Alright, I'll wait for you all, we can play some FIFA 

---

With that, the rest of the grid all made plans to do something. The affectionately named “grandpa squad” (and Carlos) were making food together, making sure they had enough extra for the younger members of the grid. They were quite protective of the pack, making sure everyone was okay, staying hydrated, well fed, even against their personal trainers wishes sometimes.

The younger members stuffed themselves into Max's driver room, ready to play a couple rounds of FIFA, complain, yell, but overall just have a good time. 

There were some people that were there to cause drama…or help something along, depending on how you looked at it.

This was only Lewis's second year being Charles' teammate but he's already had enough about his pining for a certain Dutchman. He constantly complained about the other but in a way where it wasn't anything but compliments and flirting. While he knew realistically, he shouldn't push them (lest they end up like…he would rather not talk about that actually), he could still at least try to soothe the Omega. He noticed the other seemed more stressed, his usual pleasant honey and vanilla scent turning sour at the edges and like the good Alpha he is, he wants to help.

He just didn't expect to help in the form of sneakily observing everything in Max's driver room, seeing what would be the easiest thing to steal that has enough of the Red Bull drivers scent on it.

He decided on Max's jacket. Stupid because it was insanely obvious that it's missing? Yes. Was it the perfect thing considering how close it must have been to his scent glands? Also yes. And he would rather do something stupid than keep smelling Charles' distress and anxiety for another week.

He made a weak excuse about wanting to see if Charles' was back yet and he slipped out undetected with the red bull jacket. Speeding through everything until he reached the Ferrari hospitality was definitely a mission, but he made it, jacket secure (and more importantly dry) and ran into his driver's room before anyone could stop and question him.

He went to knock on the others' room, only to receive no response, he wasn't exactly surprised, but he would need to listen out for the other driver's return. Which…can take a while. He knew how omegas liked to take their time, limbs tangled up, purring, cozy, happy, it can take someone ages to get them out of a nest. If you asked him why he knew, he would try to change the subject.

After what was definitely way too long, he heard the footsteps he was waiting on. Opening up his door, he was met face to face with Charles. His scent was more relaxed but there was still a twinge of something sour, almost rotten underneath the sweetness.

“Ah, Lewis. Did you need something?”

“Yeah actually, I got you a gift.”

He retreated back into his room, grabbing Max's jacket, and presented it to Charles.

“This is…”

“Max's jacket, yes.”

“You stole it from him?”

“You have smelled all wrong for the entirety of the season, I haven't been around someone so constantly stressed for a while. It hurts to see you like this man.”

“And you think my cure for this is…Max.”

“Humour me and take it, yeah?”

The Monegasque carefully reached out, grabbing the jacket, before bringing it up to his nose and deeply inhaling. The effect was instant, shoulders relaxed, scent sweet, it's like whatever burden he has been carrying for the season has fallen off of him.

“So, how do you feel, better?”

“....yes.”

“Good, keep it.”

“Won't Max notice it's missing?”

“He probably will, but I don't think he will mind if he figures out you're the one who has it.”

“Lewis, he will think I stole it! He will hate me!”

“Relax, he won't. You can say you found it and wanted to return it, if he doesn't buy it, blame it on me,” Lewis said, but deep inside he knew Max's alpha will be rumbling with happiness the moment he sees Charles in his clothes.

The Monegasque sighed, put the jacket on, and went into his room. Lewis counted this as success, maybe it'll open their eyes to what everyone else already sees too. That's some wishful thinking on his behalf though, those two are so sense it's still going to take them some time to figure it out, he guessed.

---

Charles kept the jacket in his driver's room, packed it in his suitcase when it was time to leave, put it in his nest at home, it just felt right. That wasn't something he ever expected. He never thought of Max's scent as anything more than “just another alpha”. Sure, he liked the notes of the cold, alpine air mixed with gasoline, but he never gave it much more thought than that. 

He liked Max enough as a person, their debriefs after races was one of his favorite parts, he loved how detailed and passionate Max got when he talked, how he could analyze Charles' driving as well if they were close near the race, the fact he didn't hold back and said exactly what was on his mind. But he also angered him so much! He is so aggressively skillful on track, then he looks all handsomely smug on the top step covered in champagne making the suit stick to his broad shoulders and- oh fuck. What Lewis did is make him realize way too many things. That's dangerous.

The break between Miami and Canada offered a little bit of time to himself, but he didn't want to spend it like that. He would overanalyze and overthink every interaction he has ever had with Max and that's not a route he wanted to go down.

He needed a day to wind down with people he enjoyed, and that's how he stalked Max's and his friends' stream schedules to find out today is a day he should be busy. He took that opportunity and ran with it.

Grid chat (the actual only good group chat)

Charles:

I know a lot of you are probably vacationing or taking time off but if any of you are free, I'm hosting a get together/party at mine

Lando:

yisss, be there 

Oscar:

Just the grid?

Charles:

Yes, I do not have plans to invite anyone else

Oscar:

I'll join

Fernando:

Will there be alcohol?

Lewis:

Probably nothing up to your standards 

Fernando:

Shame, you kids do not know how to party

Charles:

I take that is a no from you then?

Fernando:

Si.

Lewis:

I can come 

Max:

I had plans to stream but they can survive without me, I'm coming

Ollie:

Do you spend all of your free time simracing?

Max:

Only most

Ollie:

Remember to take care of yourself!

Kimi:

Yeah! Who else would we go to for advice?

Fernando:

I did not realize Max had acquired children, good on him.

Max:

I am not a mother

Isack:

Max :’(

Max:

I may be a mother

Isack:

:D

Liam:

So can we go to this party, mom?

Max:

Aren't you on vacation?

Arvid:

Yeah!

image63916391916290.jpeg

(Image of Arvid, Liam, Isack, Kimi and Ollie hanging out on a beach together)

Arvid:

Hypothetically though, would you let us go?

Max:

@ Charles will there be alcohol 

Charles:

Oui 

Max:

In that case no

Liam:

We are of legal age to drink?

Max:

You are my children, I decide that.

Fernando:

You are not a fun mother.

Max:

Too bad

Kimi:

Max just wants to keep us safe, he is a great mother!

Ollie:

And does this mean we get Charles as our other mom?

Charles:

What?

Isack:

It SO does!

Max:

What?

Arvid:

We are one big happy family!

Oscar:

Since Charles technically adopted me so I could have another home race does this mean we're siblings?

Liam:

Yeah!

Oscar:

Neat

Charles:

You are just accepting that without question????

Oscar:

Yeah

Charles:

How? Why?? What????

Lando:

iykyk 

Max:

Once again, what?

Lando:

dw abt it ;p

Lewis:

You won't be getting much more out of them

Charles:

Yes, that is probably right.

Charles:

That is everyone then? I am assuming the people who haven't responded are in a different time zone so they cannot come anyways

Oscar:

Yeah 

Charles:

Alright, see you tonight. Start arriving from 10pm, earlier if you oh so graciously want to help me set up

(read)

Charles:

Screw all of you too

(read)

---

Charles didn't expect Max would come too. He planned this day around the fact he couldn't come. Well shit.

Minor freak out later, he decided he really needed to get his shit together and at least start preparing for this.

The setup for the party was fine, it's not like he needed to do much himself, he had the money to pay for good food and he already had good alcohol at home. It's more about how to present everything that actually mattered.

He was in the middle of a pointless decision about if he should switch the two plates in front of him around when he was let known by his doorman that someone had already shown up. He looked at the clock, it read 9:30pm. It seemed like someone actually did come to help.

The person that arrived was none other than Lewis. Charles was relieved, this could have ended up way worse if it was someone else.

“Charles, hey mate.”

“Hi Lewis, thanks for coming earlier. I swear I was about to lose my mind over arranging plates of food.”

That was not what Lewis was there to talk about or help with but if it helped him feel a bit better about everything he wouldn't mind lending him a hand with those tasks too.

“You're probably just overthinking, I can help with it,” the Brit offered.

“You're a lifesaver, mate.”

They made his way into the kitchen, silence stretching between them. It wasn't awkward per say but there was a tension there, someone clearly had something to say.

Lewis was the one to break it.

“Look, I know you're probably wondering why I'm here right now, I didn't let you know I would be coming early and I'm sorry about that.”

“That's nothing to apologize for it's actually really helpful that yo-”

“BUT,” Charles was unceremoniously interrupted, “I wanted to make sure you're okay. With…you know…Max?”

“Oh why wouldn't I be? I mean we're maybe not friends but we don't hate each other and-” the Monegasque started rambling, clearly he was more stressed about it than he led on.

“Charles. Look, I know how you're feeling. Believe it or not you smell like pure anxiety,” the younger man's gaze shifted to the floor upon being called out “But that's why I'm here.”

“Is it?”

“You picked this day because you were overthinking, needed company and this was a day Max was supposed to be busy, yes?”

Lewis read him like an open book, it was a little embarrassing honestly.

“Yes.”

“And now you need to deal with knowing the person you wanted a break from will be here in about 20 or so minutes.”

“Yes.”

“And that's stressing you out, but the one thing that helps when you're stressed also just so happens to be that person.”

“Well when you say it like that-”

“It sounds stupid yes?”

Charles hesitated, thinking about everything.

“Yes, if you put it like that, it does.”

“What I'm trying to say is everything will be okay, you don't have anything to worry about, he's gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine, and things will go smoothly. You have no reason to act any differently around him, it'll be fine.”

“It…will be fine,” Charles said weakly.

After another beat of silence, Lewis asked the biggest question he had.

“Also, what did you end up doing with the jacket?”

This caused Charles to turn approximately the same shade of red as his Ferrari car. Lewis raised his eyebrow at this.

“Look just…I am too embarrassed to say this so just follow me.”

Charles led the Brit deeper into his apartment, stopping in front of a door. With a deep breath, he opened.

What was inside was his bedroom. And on his bed? A wonderful nest, with the jacket at its center.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…you can see why I wanted some time to clear my head.”

“I'm sure it'll still go well.”

Charles sighed, closing the door.

Or rather, attempting to. He failed to notice he didn't fully close the door, leaving it open just a tiny crack.

The two returned, finishing the last of the setup, Lewis putting on some music because he didn't trust Charles, and all that's left was waiting for everyone.

---

It was a more chilled out party, if you could even call it that. More of a friendly hang out between people that really needed this.

Music was switched in favor of the noise from the TV as they all took turns playing various video games. The fact that Mario kart was something they all unanimously voted on was very amusing. The alcohol was flowing, snacks and food was being depleted at a questionable rate, it was only a matter of time before someone needed to excuse themselves.

And as fate would have it, that first person was Max.

“Hey Charles, where's your bathroom?”

“Down that hallway, second door to the right.”

“Thank you.”

Max was good at following instructions, that wasn't the issue. The issue was that something else caught his attention before he could even enter the bathroom. A room with a slightly opened door.

The saying is “curiosity killed the cat” but since it never said anything about lions, he went and peered inside.It took him a minute to register what was actually in front of him.

Charles' bedroom.

An Omegas nest.

A flash of blue.

A very familiar blue.

Oh.

Oh.

His jacket in the heart of it all.

He wondered where it went but this was the last place he expected it to be. He didn't even know when Charles would have gotten his hands on it, but that wasn't what mattered to him.

What mattered is that the Omega he's been crushing on before either of them even presented has an item of his clothing in his nest. Charles finds Max comforting. Charles finds Max safe. His inner Alpha was so happy with that. He is providing for his omega.

God that definitely required a conversation with Charles though. Now that he knew he had a shot, maybe it wouldn't be too bad. Either that or he misread the whole situation entirely somehow and he was assuming things that he wanted to be true.

But then he looked back to the best and rationalized that Charles may share some of the same feelings for him too. Now what he needed to figure out is when and how to bring it up. He had a whole party's worth of time to mull that one over.

He returned not long after, but he couldn't help sneaking glances at Charles anytime he could. Well…more glances than usual, the Dutchman wasn't exactly known for keeping his eyes to himself. The fans have caught him looking at Charles plenty of times throughout the years, he can't help himself. Wanting someone for years does that to a person.

That same want is the reason he's here right now. He would use any excuse to be near him, even if it means cancelling any important (or vaguely important, in this case) plans. He never planned on making a move, he just wanted to spend what little time he could with the one person he has dreamed of before he figured out what loving someone even means. The worry of him overstepping some invisible line that would cause their carefully crafted friendship to fall is the reason he hasn't said anything about his feelings to Charles. He would rather have him as a friend than nothing at all, no matter how much that hurts him. The option of being alone hurts more.

The party was slowly wrapping up, people were leaving in various questionable states, but Max made sure he stayed sober enough. He needed to bring up what he was earlier, even if it would require him to admit he intruded on the Omega's personal space on accident.

“Charles, do you need help cleaning up?”

“Oh! That's a kind offer Max but-”

“I want to help, Charles.”

Direct, a little rude maybe, but it was a very Max thing to say. So Charles let him, beyond his more rational thinking, he let the Alpha stay. He was helping the Omega, proving he could be a good provider, wait- that's not the line of thought Charles should be going down. He would blame it on the alcohol, even though he made sure to stay sober enough so that it was a very very flimsy excuse.

The two worked together seamlessly, almost as if this was a practiced dance, a routine they have done a thousand times before, and not just Max offering to help him for no other reason that it was just Max and he was nice and a good Alpha and- fuck, Charles needed to stop thinking like that.

“Hey Charlie,” Max started. It was time to talk about what he saw. “Before I say anything, it was an accident and I didn't mean to do that.”

“Max? What are you talking about?”

“I saw your nest.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He didn't close the door properly. It was probably wide open (he didn't consider the possibility of Max snooping around, maybe he should have) and it was right there on display for Max to see.

“Max, I'm sorry, Lewis gave me the jacket and it helped me relax I'm sorry I shouldn't have accepted it I shouldn't have taken it I should have given it back and-”

“Charlie.”

“...Yes?”

“I am not mad at you, any reasonable Alpha would be insanely stupid to be mad at you for that,” Max did file away the information that he needed to talk to Lewis about this situation though.

“You said it helped you relax?”

“Yes I-” this was a lot harder to say out loud than Charles would have ever thought, especially to Max of all people.

“I have been stressed during this season, Lewis noticed, he brought me your jacket, it helped. I selfishly didn't return it. I put it in my nest. It's comforting. I'm sorry, I will give it back.”

“Give it back? Nonono- Charlie. I would never ask something like that of you, not after you told me everything,” Max gently reaches over, cupping the Omega's cheeks.

“Max, are you here to embarrass me?”

“No, I'm happy.”

“Happy? Someone stole your clothes, gave them to me, I kept them and you're…happy?”

“Charlie, knowing that it makes you feel safe, that by extent I make you feel safe, that is the highest honor and Omega can give to someone.”

“You are not upset?”

“God, Charlie, no, I wouldn't dream of being upset by that,” Max paused thinking of the right words to say. He didn't want to fuck this up.

“When I saw it, your nest, I thought it was beautiful. It looked so safe, comfortable, it smelled so nice. Seeing my clothes woven into it? Oh Charlie, I needed to keep myself in check so I didn't start rumbling like an engine right there in your hallway. It made such a primal part of me so happy.”

“So, your Alpha likes it.”

“Yes, and so do I.”

“You do?”

“Charlie, I don't know how else to say this but I've been in love with you since Val d’Argenton. I never thought you would feel the same, I never brought anything up because it was safer having you as a friend than not having you at all. But after seeing this…” he trailed off.

“Charles Leclerc, please let me have you, please let me be your Alpha. I promise I will stay by your side, give you everything you need, you won't need to lift a finger schat, I-”

“Max,” it was now Charles' turn to interrupt him.

He looked at the other with pleading eyes. Did Max look pathetic right now? To everyone else, probably. To Charles though? He looked like the most beautiful man on earth.

“I'll have you…if you'll have me.”

The biggest smile spread across Max's face that then shifted into something more private, more personal, a smile just for the two of them.

“Oh schatje, I've been wanting to have you for years.”

Their lips collided, but it wasn't a hungry kiss. It was something gentle yet passionate, something to show their deep devotion for each other that has existed for years, even if only one of them realized it until recently. They've been orbiting around each other their whole lives, it made sense that they fit together like this. Like they were made for each other.

Two halves of a whole, finally coming together.

—

To say that the latest race turned out to be a disaster for several people would be an understatement. Penalties flying, cars spinning, Pierre flipping (and Lewis flipping someone off), the horrors of Miami would be ones that the drivers would try so hard to forget, but wouldn't be able to.

There is one very simple solution to everything though. A little trip to Paris.

Have you ever wondered how the grid relaxes and bonds together? Well….setting a building on fire would be something on that list now!

No one really knows who exactly set the plan in motion (Fernando is high on the suspect list though), but after a quick discussion, the entire grid was taking refuge on Max's private jet as they were taking a recreational trip to France. Would everyone be pissed at them for this stunt? Yeah, definitely, BUT right now nothing seems like better therapy than turning the FIA headquarters into their own personal rage room.

—

“THEY GAVE ME A 20 SECOND PENALTY WHEN IT WASN'T MY FAULT! 20 WHOLE SECONDS, HOW IS THAT FAIR?”

“I CLIPPED THE CORNER AND IT COST ME THE WHOLE RACE AND THEY BROADCASTED MY CRASH OUT FOR EVERYONE TO SEE!”

“I'M DRIVING AN ASTON MARTIN!”

“We…actually had a pretty decent race all things considered, even though it sucked we didn't manage to get the win.”

“THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU, LANDO!”

Those and similar complaints echoed throughout the space for the entire journey, no one seemed to be coping quite well. Of course, some people weren't that mentally affected by last race (e.g. Lando, above), but some were so deep in the trenches they might need to send rescue submarines as they are in the fucking Mariana trench.

There was also a very pissed off George Russel in the corner, staring at everyone who placed higher than him with such venom in his eyes that if someone looked at him for too long they would probably just die on the spot. How charming.

Max was slowly beginning to regret letting everyone on the plane.

—

Arriving in Paris, they already had drivers waiting for them. The Frenchmen helped with arranging the travel (and also making sure the trunks of those cars were full of a wide supply of bats, other questionable objects, gasoline, matches, anything that can be used to cause destruction) and making sure that no one asked too many questions about what the fuck they were actually doing. How did they have those contacts? That's another thing no one was really sure of but hey, why question it if it manages to come in very handy in a situation like this.

They fought to get into the cars and sped away into the night.

Arriving in front of the empty building of the FIA headquarters sparked a fire underneath all of them. They've all been wronged at some point, all of those feelings of injustice rushing back and serving as excellent motivation for what they were about to do next.

You would assume a building like that would have great security but somehow even that was sorted out. Everyone made a mental note to not upset the French drivers on the grid if they can pull something like this on such short notice. 

They rushed to open the trunks and grabbed everything that could be used to cause blunt force trauma to anything in the building (no people, somehow no one was actually there). Max and Charles were the last ones to pick their weapons of choice. Gasoline and matches.

—

Rampaging through the building was amazing therapy for everyone. Breaking chairs, flipping tables, taking a bat to any computer monitor, it's safe to say the drivers were enjoying this maybe even a bit more than racing itself. So many important files were torn up, the property damage they managed to do in such a short time was honestly very impressive.

While the others were busy releasing all the pent up emotions, Max dashed through as much of the building as he could, covering every surface he could in gasoline. Was he very out of breath by the end? Yes. Was it also very worth it? Also yes.

Charles was vaguely following Max, destroying everything that Max couldn't as he was busy trying to coat the place in a healthy dose of some extremely flammable liquid.

—

It took a while, but after everyone vented out their rightful frustrations, they gathered at the entrance. Charles dramatically pulled out the matchbox….and promptly failed to light the match on the first try. After that embarrassing moment and a few more tries, he flicked it over to the trail of gasoline his rival oh so lovingly left.

Flames engulfed the building, inside and out. It was a gorgeous sight, really, someone should photograph it, paint it, immortalize this moment in time as it's not enough for this to be in someone's memories. The striking contrast between the dark starry night and the vivid vibrant colors of the fire spreading out was mesmerizing. They all stood there, locked in a trance, experiencing one of the most momentous occasions of their lives. 

Satisfied with the destruction they committed, they promptly hauled ass back to what were now their getaway vehicles. Rushing back to the airport was an adventure, but the moment they got back to the safety of Max's jet, they could finally relax.

Was this the most insane thing they have ever done? Maybe.

Weird things happening around the paddock wasn't unusual, animal traits making certain drivers a little erratic. The predators being unreasonably nasty, the felines refusing to do anything else other than lay in the sun, the canines being way too clingy for anyone's taste, the chaos was a form of normalcy.

What wasn't normal was the big bad Dutch lion Max Verstappen being one of the people that acts out. Out of everyone, he has the most control over his animal instincts, honed over the years. If he didn't have the ears, tail, sharp teeth and retractable claws, you wouldn't even be able to tell what animal he was.

Recently though, all of that control seemed to have gone out the window. He was growling at other predators, being incredibly territorial and in general being more of a pain in the ass than he's ever been.

Charles wasn't the only driver to take note of this, of course, but he was the one to make it his mission to find out what the other man's deal was. The two have become good friends, everything considered, so he figured if anyone was to get to the bottom of this, it would be him.

Walking into the Red Bull hospitality was strange, he stuck out like a sore thumb, rosso corsa in a sea of deep navy blue. No one seemed to pay too much attention to him, he thought, until he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning around, the person who wanted his attention was none other than GP. The other man will definitely tell him off and kick him out.

“Are you here to check on Max?”

Or maybe not. It seems everyone found Max's behaviour strange.

“Yes. The way he's been recently is…worrying.”

“His driver's room is that way.”

“You…are not mad at me for being here?”

“The two of you are close and if we can't figure out what's happening, you're our next best bet. He talks about you a lot, he respects you, he should hopefully listen to you.”

Max talked about him a lot? To his own team? That was interesting information that he safely filed away for later. When he gets back to his usual self, Charles will tease him endlessly about that. But that is actually for later. Right now he had a grumpy kitty to deal with.

Finding Max's driver's room was easy enough after GP pointed him the right way. He knocked, out of courtesy, before entering without even waiting for Max's response. He didn't expect to get one that wasn't a hiss or a growl anyway.

Opening the door, he found the Dutchman sunbathing. His first, rather unhelpful, thought was that this was very cute. His second thought was that something is definitely wrong with Max. The Monegasques’ instincts weren't exactly happy with him being so reckless, knowing the lion was much higher up in the food chain compared to him, even though they were both feline predators.

Getting closer to the other driver he realised that…Max was napping. The big mean kitty was napping in the sun. (And he also noted that he picked a wonderful sunny spot for that nap.) He found it hard to imagine this was the same man that was snapping at others in the paddock just a couple hours earlier. He seemed…peaceful, like this. Gorgeous. (Charles realised thinking about Max like this was not exactly going to help him here, but he's been long aware of his interest in the Dutchman, having years to process those feelings.)

“Maxie?” The serval got down to the lions level, sitting on the floor next to him. He wanted to nudge him, but was wary that if he decides the smaller feline is a threat, he might get bitten. While he wasn't exactly opposed to that, this wasn't the situation for it.

“Maxie, wake up.”

Gentle grumbling came from the other man, clearly unhappy about being so unceremoniously woken up mid cat-nap (Charles could relate.) 

“What are you doing here, Leclerc?”

A low sound came from the man, almost like a warning. Everything in Charles body was telling him to back up and fuck off, but this wasn't the time to listen to his instincts.

“Max, we need to have a talk.”

“About?” Max growled.

“Exactly that, Maxie. You have been snapping at everyone around you, what's going on?”

The lion seemed almost shocked? Did he really not realise what he was doing? 

“I have?”

“Yes Max, god you growled at the rookies! The rookies!”

Max really didn't realise what he was doing huh. At least it's comforting to know he wasn't doing this on purpose? It would be incredibly rude of him to do so and would make Charles rethink everything he thought he knew about the man.

“Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed, Max. Now, tell me, what is bothering you.”

There was a bit of silence, Max seemingly weighing his options about what he could do.

“If I tell you, this stays between us, yes?”

“Yes.”

Max swallowed anxiously. This was very much unlike his usual cool and calm exterior, Charles can't remember a time when he saw the man this worried about something.

“Canyoupetmeplease.”

“What was that, Max?”

“I said…can you pet me…please.”

It was Charles' turn to look shocked. Max? Asking for pets? That was not how he expected this day to go. He tentatively reaches a hand out, hovering near Max's lion ears and his hair. The Dutchman instinctively nudges his head to meet Charles halfway.

And Charles…his heart could explode right then and there. He gets braver, letting his hand wander through the blonde strands of Max's hair, gently scratching behind his ears. Then, a certain sound slowed his movement. Purring. Max was purring. Oh this was the best day of Charles’ life.

The purrs faded as Charles' movements stopped, leaving Max to look up at him with pleading eyes. Eyes that the Monegasque would never be strong enough to say no to. But instead of returning to gently petting him, he patted his lap.

“Law down here, Maxie, it'll be more comfortable for you.”

The bigger feline blinked, before accepting the offer, laying his head in the servals lap. Charles' hands returned to the little lion in his lap, gently massaging his scalp, playing with his ears, even gently cupping the other man's cheek. That touch is something Max leans into, making Charles smile.

This continued on for a while, before one of them decided to speak up.

“How exactly does this help you, Maxie?”

Blue eyes looked up at him, thinking.

“This is going to be rather embarrassing but…this helps me relax. I think I have been snapping at others because I have been stressed. It's not something I realise…and when I visit my family, it's hard to get their hands off of me…but I guess it has been a while since I visited them.”

“So you are saying…you are touch starved?”

“In a way…yes.”

“Oh mon petit lion…” Charles said, stroking his hair. “I do not mind helping you with this anytime you need… if you'll let me.

Max considered the offer for a while before finally responding.

“I think I would like that.”

“In that case, we will be here for a while. Do you want to lay in the sun together?”

Max moved off of his lap, waiting for what the other man would do. Charles laid down and tugged the Dutchman into his chest, resuming the lion petting session. The content purr of both felines filled the room. Max nudged his head into Charles' neck, evidently finding that to be the most comfortable place for him, which the Monegasque wouldn't complain about. 

Tangled up in each other's limbs, the pair slowly began slowly drifting off to sleep. While this didn't help Charles' and his whole I am crushing on my childhood rival situation, it gave him some hope that maybe his feelings weren't as one sided as he initially thought.

The last thing Charles heard was a gentle whisper from Max.