Chapter Text
Max had attempted to offer to fly Charles back to Monaco, but considering the man had planned on staying at his mother's for a few days, Charles had waved him off at the airport with a kiss. Charles had texted Alex the moment he entered the airplane, though.
“You in Monaco?”
“Was about to drive Leo over for the weekend.”
“Meet me in Nice instead?”
“Why?”
“News.”
Her reply had been a flurry of chaotic, excited stickers that made him grin.
Now, as he got into her car, a furry missile launched itself into his lap.
“My love, I missed you!” Charles gasped, his voice muffled as Leo licked his face with frantic affection. He hugged the dog tightly, burying his face in the soft, familiar fur.
This year had been a whirlwind, and the quiet distance they were building before the public "breakup" meant less time with Alex and, consequently, Leo.
The dog was supposed to be his, a welcome-home gift to himself after a brutal season, but Alex had fallen in love just as hard. After two years Leo was theirs , and the thought of untangling that shared custody was an ache he wasn't ready to face.
But Alex was leaving back to Paris for her new job. For her new life.
So she enjoyed Leo for the past few months and Charles was the next one in rotation.
He gently pushed Leo’s face away, still rubbing behind his ears, and finally looked at Alex.
“Nice dress.” he teased, noticing the dress he had gifted her last month on her birthday.
“Asshole.” she shot back, but she was laughing. She pulled him into a hug over the center console, squeezing him tightly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” Charles admitted, almost mournful. He hated this part — the slow, deliberate separation for the cameras. He didn’t regret much stuff in his life, but he did hate that they went public with their “relationship” instead of just… a friendship and let people believe in whatever they wanted. He hated that a friendship this vital would be publicly broken.
They pulled apart, a comfortable silence settling between them as Alex navigated out of the airport traffic. Charles gave Leo the chew toy he’d brought, and the dog settled happily in his lap.
When they were finally on the open road, Alex glanced over, her expression sharp with curiosity.
“So.” she began, a playful smirk already forming. “What’s the news that couldn’t wait? How’s everything?”
“Everything’s good.” Charles answered, letting the suspense hang in the air for a beat before letting his own grin break free. “Really good.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Oh, I know that look. That Coldplay concert was more than just fun, wasn’t it?”
He laughed, the sound light and unburdened. “Very.”
“Charles,” she pressed, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “spill. Now.”
He hesitated, the memory of the last few days still feeling dreamlike and fragile. Then he looked at her, his best friend, and let the words tumble out. “We’re… trying something. Me and Max.”
The car swerved for a fraction of a second before Alex corrected it.
“You and Max Verstappen?!” she yelped, slapping his arm with a squeal of pure delight.
“Hands on the wheel!” Charles complained, laughing.
“Shut up! Max Verstappen? Is he the guy you almost kissed?”
“Yes.” Charles admitted, feeling a flush creep up his neck.
“How did that even happen?”
“I don’t even know.” Charles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… we were spending so much time together, and we just work, like, so well when we are around each other. Then that happened and I was going to like, apologise and ask to move on.”
“Ugh, Charles!”
“I know!” Charles agrees, “But Max pretty much didn’t let me.”
“How so?”
“He said… he would respect whatever I choose, but that he…” he paused, still sounding a little dazed himself. “Basically, he said he liked me too much, for that.”
“Oh my God.” Alex breathed, her expression a mix of shock and utter glee.
“It was…” Charles trailed off, a soft smile touching his lips. “It was really nice.”
Alex grinned like she’d just unwrapped the world’s best present. “Okay, and the date? I need details. All of them.”
“He was so thoughtful.” Charles said, his voice softening. “He planned everything, paid attention to every little detail. And when we got back to his place, Alex, the way he kisses…”
Her eyebrows practically flew off her forehead. “So, how was the sex? Be honest, he seems kind of… vanilla. No offense.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “We didn’t.”
Alex blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah.” he shrugged. “We were both exhausted. And honestly? I don’t think I was up for it either. It felt… better this way.”
“But did you talk? About, you know, expectations? Preferences?”
He hesitated. “Kind of,” he admitted, thinking back to his teasing questions. “We agreed we’d figure it out together when we’re ready. I’m pretty sure he’s not into bottoming, though.”
“Well,” Alex smirked knowingly, “that works out perfectly for you, doesn’t it?”
Charles didn’t deny it, which only made her laugh harder. “Anyway,” he continued, a warmth spreading through his chest, “it felt like we have all the time in the world to do this right.”
“I am so happy for you, Charles,” Alex said, “You deserve someone who treats you like that.” her voice sincere as she reached over and squeezed his hand.
They just stayed like this until she needed it for a turn.
“How’s the apartment hunt in Paris?” Charles asked.
“Mom’s realtor is great. Found a flat two blocks from the gallery. I’ll send you pictures.”
“And the Meshki contract?”
“Finalized. My lawyer made sure they can’t break it after our ‘breakup’ without paying a penalty.”
“They wouldn’t dare. Your engagement numbers are insane.”
Alex sighed, impatient. “Yeah, yeah, but my numbers won’t be the same, Charles.”
“People don’t just follow you because of me,” he insisted.
“Charl…”
“You know that, right? You barely even post about me.”
There was a moment of silence, and Charles started to open his mouth to press when she continued.
“It’s more offensive when you pretend not to understand, you know.” she said quietly. “I’m aware of the audience I’ll keep and the one I’ll lose. I have people running the numbers. I knew from the moment we went public that this had an expiration date. There’s a reason I never gave up my art career.”
The words landed with a familiar, heavy thud.
And Charles… It just pissed him off — how selfish he’d been, putting her in this position.
She was so young then. She still is so young.
He never fully understood why she even stepped in that night. He’d asked before, but all he got back was that she didn’t want someone like that to destroy his image.
“I’m sorry.” he said, his voice low. “I feel guilty for putting you through this. You deserved more than all the disrespect you got.”
Alex took a deep breath, her grip on the wheel loosening. "You don’t have to feel guilty. I made my choices, same as you. And honestly? I’d do it again." She reached over and flicked his ear lightly. "Besides, I’m way too stubborn to let you take all the credit for my future career troubles."
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are,” she teased. “Stuck with me.”
Charles smiled softly, looking out at the glittering coastline. “Yeah.” he murmured. “Lucky me.”
After a comfortable silence, Alex nudged him. “So, when do I get to properly meet Max Verstappen? You know, as the boyfriend?”
Charles groaned, covering his face. “Oh my God, don’t call him that.”
“What?” she grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Your boyfriend?”
“Stop!” He swatted at her arm, laughing despite himself. “It’s not… We’re not there yet.”
“‘Not yet.’” she echoed, her tone sing-song.
“I’m not letting you two meet if you’re just going to embarrass me.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Alex declared with theatrical gravity. “I have to embarrass you. It’s in the best friend contract.”
That night, the apartment was too quiet. The city’s hum felt distant, muffled by the thick glass of his windows. Even Leo, snoozing peacefully in his bed in the corner, offered no distraction, his paws twitching in some silent, happy dream. After the easy honesty of his chat with Alex, and with no plans to fill the sudden emptiness of the evening, Charles felt a familiar restlessness begin to crawl under his skin.
He paced the floor barefoot, the silence amplifying every thought.
The conversation with Alex had brought to the surface old struggles he usually tried to ignore.
He’d joked with Max when he called himself a virgin. Mostly. It wasn’t about a lack of experience. It was about a lack of the right experience.
It sucked how much power Charles gave to it, but a big part of his reluctance came from how the first time he’d actually tried sleeping with a guy and was so prepared to let go, to enjoy it — until of course the dude tried to force him and almost exposed him to half of Monaco.
It wasn’t the attempted force that had impacted him most. It was the threat that followed: the risk of exposure, of his most private self being dragged into the light and used as a weapon.
Adding that fear above years of sexual repression and PR training, he’d built an entire persona as armour: even the choice of clothes, just this side of masculine; the easy charm that kept everyone at a comfortable distance; the carefully curated masculinity expected of a top-tier athlete.
In a sport where he was already dismissed as the "too pretty" driver, where his talent was so often overshadowed by his appearance, being queer in any way would end his career, being the gay F1 driver who was fucked… even worse.
He knew what he liked, though.
In the privacy of his own mind, in the safety of his own hands, the truth was simple. He knew that he would enjoy the surrender of bottoming far more than the control of topping.
But out in the world, even in the most intimate of settings, he was still performing. Even when it was his dick inside someone else, they were always the ones leading, pushing, setting the tempo. He let them, because it was easier. Safer.
The thought of sharing more that — of placing that raw, vulnerable part of himself in someone else’s hands — unlocked a part of him he kept bolted shut.
But Max… Max didn’t scare him.
The thought was a dangerous comfort. With Max, the carefully built walls seemed to had disappeared at some point without him even noticing.
Which, of course, brought him to the current problem: he was completely alone and, intensely, achingly turned on.
It felt ridiculous, to be this needy for someone who was in another country, for a relationship so new it barely had a name.
With a frustrated huff, Charles grabbed his tablet from the coffee table and padded into the bedroom. He slipped under the cool sheets, the fabric a stark contrast to the heat coiling in his gut. He stripped off his shirt, the air ghosting over his bare skin, and pulled up a familiar site. His thumb hesitated, not having that much interest in what was being offered.
Touching himself while thinking of Max felt… wrong. Too close. Too real. It felt like taking something gentle and reducing it to a simple physical urge, and what he felt for Max had so many layers already that a part of himself just… didn’t want to go there by himself.
So, he selected a video at random, the screen flickering to life. The artificial, breathless moans filled the quiet room. He reached into his bedside drawer, the cool, smooth silicone of a toy a familiar weight in his palm.
Then he closed his eyes, trying to let the sounds on screen wash over him, to disconnect his body from his heart. For now.
Max sat at the kitchen table surrounded by his family, the plates already mostly empty. Victoria was laughing at some joke, and his mum was topping up everyone’s wine glasses like it was a ritual.
“So,” Sophie asked as she settled into her chair again. “how’s the season going?”
Max wiped his hands on a napkin. “Pretty good, actually. The car feels solid.”
His brother-in-law, Tom, grinned. “Still making everyone look like they’re standing still, then?”
Max chuckled. “That’s the plan.”
There was a comfortable pause as everyone dug back into their food.
Sophie glanced up at him. “And… are you seeing anyone these days?”
“No.” he replied smoothly, even if a part of him twinged at the lie.
From across the table, Victoria coughed into her glass, clearly laughing.
Sophie caught it and raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “Well, I’m just glad you still have time for your mum.” she teased.
“Always.” Max assured with a smile. “And, hey, you want to come to Monaco for a few days? Summer break’s starting.”
“You sure you don’t want some time for yourself?” Sophie asked.
Max shrugged. “Honestly, I’m going to be busy anyway. Have to catch up on social media stuff we couldn’t do because of Charles’ injury after the crash.”
“Ohhh.” Victoria drawled, lifting her cup with a knowing look. “So Charles will keep you busy during summer.”
Max shot her a look. “It’s not his fault.” he replied quickly, hoping nobody would pick up on the subtext.
Sophie set down her fork. “How is he doing after that crash?”
Max’s voice softened. “He’s fine. Worse than he lets on. But getting stronger every day.”
“That’s good.” Sophie replied warmly. “And you two still working well together?”
“Of course.” Max said, easily. “He’s a friend. It’s going well.”
Sophie nodded, thoughtful. “Teamwork can be hard. Sometimes friendships don’t survive.”
Max shook his head. “Not this one. I respect him too much for that.”
Sophie smiled at that. “That’s good. I do see it in the way you two race, you fight so hard but you never quite go as hard on him.”
“Oh, I definitely do.” Max let out a small laugh. “It’s just that I learned from a very formative age that Charles would literally divebomb me off the track if I drive too dirty against him.”
And Max thought to himself, not for the first time, that he loved that about Charles. Before, as a rival, it was pure admiration — someone who pushed him to his absolute limit. Now, with things changing between them, it sent a different kind of heat through him.
“Speaking of Monaco’s finest.” Max starts.
“Oh, god.” Victoria murmured with a disgusted look.
“Do you want to come too?” Max asked, looking at his sister and ignoring her teasing.
“The kids still have school for a few days, I can’t leave them.” She replies.
Her husband gave her a mock-hurt look. “Hey, what am I? A piece of meat?”
“My fine piece of it.” she shot back with a wink.
Max groaned, “Do you have to do this in front of me?”
“Try me.” Victoria replied, sweetly dangerous. “And I’ll embarrass you in front of the person you don’t have.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t come after all.” Max said with a dry smile — earning a round of laughter at the table, and Victoria grinning like she’d won.
Charles had a morning run despite the soreness in his backside and the bad mood from a night that didn’t actually go as planned
But then again, he couldn’t exactly tell Andrea that hey, maybe be nice to me because I’m sexually frustrated from not being able to get off despite a good amount of trying?
He turned back into his stomach and groaned from the soreness that had nothing to do with the two-hour-long jogging.
The doorbell rang, and Charles groaned and shuffled to answer it, almost stepping on Leo through it. When he opened the door, he was met with Max’s familiar grin.
“Morning.” Max said casually.
“Hi.” Charles replied, caught off guard, but letting Max in.
“Your doorman recognised me and let me up.” Max added, stepping inside.
Charles quirked a brow. “Well, that’s worrying. What if George shows up in the middle of the night to get rid of the competition?”
Max smirked and pressed another playful kiss to Charles’ face, making him laugh — a soft, light giggle that escaped before Charles could stop it. Fucking giggle.
“Pretty sure George would start with the other five people between you two.” Max teased, leaning in to plant a kiss on Charles’ lips — only to be immediately distracted by Leo sniffing at his shoes.
“Oh, hey, Leo!” Max crouched down, holding out a hand for Leo to inspect. The dog gave him a cursory sniff before turning his head away dismissively. Undeterred, Max scratched behind Leo’s ears, trying to coax some affection out of him. “Come on, mate, we’re friends now, right?”
Leo yawned, trotted a few steps away, and flopped onto his dog bed, pointedly ignoring Max.
Max stood back up with an exaggerated sigh. “He still doesn’t like me!”
Charles smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Give it time. He’ll be traveling a lot more with me the rest of the season, plenty of chances to win him over.”
Max rolled his eyes but turned to Charles, arms going to circle his waist in a hug.
He sighed, watching Charles for a moment.
“Hi.” He said, with a smile.
“Hey.” Charles murmured back, his mind wandering as he stared at Max.
God, he’s handsome.
Charles had never really thought of Max’s appearance before this year. For years, the only time Charles ever considered Max’s looks was during a stupid game of “Who’s it” in front of Sebastian. Back then, he’d glanced at Max’s printed face and thought, No, not pretty.
And Charles would stand by his first assessment. Max wasn’t pretty — no, Charles was pretty. Young Rosberg was pretty. Ollie was pretty. But Max? Max was right here, towering over him with easy confidence, even though they were virtually the same height.
He was handsome. All Western European with strong shoulders, thin waist, striking eyes, and a nice smirk. Handsome, hot, charming, attractive — the statement was no recent realisation, specially considering how Charles had spent his night trying and failing to not think about the man.
“I thought you were staying longer at your mum.” Charles commented, hands rubbing at his shoulders.
“Change of plans.” Max shrugged. “So, I thought we could order lunch. Or go out, maybe.”
“Sure. I can drive?”
Max’s expression immediately twisted into a reluctant smile. “Uh, sure.”
Charles played offended. “Hey! What’s that? I’m great driver!”
Max laughed, “Of course you are. I just meant your flagged car is… a lot.”
“I’m proud of my country.”
“It’s very distinctive.”
“I’m very proud of my country.” Charles declared.
Max chuckled, his hands settling gently on Charles’ arms. “We’re going on a date, Charlie.”
Right , that kinda changed things.
“We can use the Purosangue.” Charles insisted, though, just for the sport of it.
Max tilted his head. “How many Ferraris do you even own? You’re not even their driver anymore.”
“I paid for them!” Charles defended himself, then quickly added at Max look, “With a sizeable employee discount, but still!”
Max laughed again, dropping his head against Charles’ shoulder. Charles smiled, threading his fingers through Max’s hair and resting his chin on the other man’s shoulder.
“We can just order.” Charles murmured, his voice soft.
“Yeah?” Max asked, pulling back slightly to study him.
“Yeah, don’t wanna move, either.” Charles admitted.
Max pulled back. “Okay. Just the couch, come on.”
They settled onto the couch, Charles glued to Max’s, unusually affectionate. Max wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t mind. Charles smelled of expensive cologne, and his oversized clothes were soft and warm.
“Were you busy yesterday?” Max asked, his fingers in Charles’ hair.
“Hm?” Charles murmured back distractedly while he picked at the menu options.
“You didn’t answer my texts. I don’t mind it, it’s just not like you.”
Charles hummed noncommittally, “I was in bed watching a movie. Fell asleep.”
“Good movie?”
“Kind of boring.” Charles admitted with a shrug before changing the subject.
Later, when the food finally arrived, Charles pushed himself up to go get it — and Max immediately noticed the way he winced.
“You okay?” Max asked, his brow furrowing as he tracked every stiff movement.
“Yeah, just moved wrong.” Charles replied, brushing it off too casually.
“You sure?” Max pressed, eyes narrowing at the way Charles shifted his weight as he crossed the room.
“No, I’m good!” Charles called back over his shoulder.
When they sat down to eat, Max couldn’t stop noticing the subtle discomfort in the way Charles eased into the couch. It wasn’t obvious — just the different way he was sitting — but it still sent his thoughts spiralling.
“Charles.” Max began, then paused.
There was a question on the tip of his tongue that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to say out loud. The logical part of him told him to shut the fuck up. That they weren’t anything yet. That it wasn’t his place to ask, or to even care.
“Yeah?” Charles looked up, fork halfway to his mouth. He could feel a shift in the way Max had gone quiet, his easy-going energy from earlier replaced by an analytical stillness.
“Did you sleep with someone yesterday?”
Max kept his tone as neutral as he could, forcing himself to sound casual. Except inside, his stomach was knotted with something sharp — jealousy, or maybe fear — because Max had thought they were heading toward something together. The thought of Charles sleeping with someone else right now hit him harder than, maybe, it should have.
Charles blinked, the question so far from what he’d been expecting that his brain took a second to catch up. A hot, mortifying blush crept up his neck as understanding dawned.
“What? No!” The denial was sharp, laced with disbelief.
Max fought to keep his voice level, but the knot of jealousy in his gut was twisting tighter. “I mean, we didn’t talk about being exclusive or anything, so…”
“No, God, I–” Charles started, his hand coming up to hide his flaming face. This had to be the single most embarrassing conversation of his entire life. He took a shaky breath and forced his hand down, though he couldn't quite meet Max’s eyes. “It was… me. Just me alone.”
The relief that washed over Max was so immediate it made him feel light-headed. Oh, thank fuck, he thought, the sharp-edged fear in his chest finally uncoiling.
But as the relief settled, something deeper stirred. The image of Charles alone, touching himself… Max hoped, with a desperate and selfish ache, that he had been the one on Charles’ mind. Heat crept up the back of his neck, his own imagination running wild.
He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling too warm. “Alright. Sorry… for asking.”
“It’s okay.” Charles mumbled, still staring intently at his plate.
He wasn’t going to hold the question against Max, not when being honest and blunt was one of the foundations of Charles' trust in the man.
He risked a glance up and saw that Max, still looked tense, his shoulders rigid.
A soft sigh escaped Charles’ lips.
“And for what it’s worth,” Charles said, his voice quiet but clear, forcing Max’s gaze to meet his. “I did think we were exclusive already.”
The admission was an offering, a small piece of reassurance laid bare. Max’s finally relaxed, his eyes crinkling at the corners with an affection so warm it made Charles’ heart skip. He watched as Max pushed his own plate aside, the sound of ceramic on wood barely registering over the sudden, charged silence that had fallen between them.
Max leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate, closing the small gap that separated them. He reached out, his hand coming up to gently cup Charles' jaw, thumb stroking softly over his cheekbone. The touch was feather-light, hesitant, but it sent a jolt of pure heat straight through Charles’ system.
“Good, because I did too.” Max murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Charles’ chest.
And then he kissed him.
It started soft, a calm and gentle press of lips against his. It was a question, not a demand; a sigh of relief shared between them. It tasted of salt and the lingering sweetness of the pasta they’d barely touched. Charles felt his breath catch, his own hands coming up to rest on Max’s shoulders, grounding himself in the simple, overwhelming rightness of the moment. The embarrassment, the tension, it all melted away under the quiet assurance of Max’s touch.
For a heartbeat, they stayed like that, lost in the tenderness of it. Then, a low hum started deep in Charles’ chest, a sound of pure contentment, and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. The gentle pressure became more insistent, the kiss turning from a soft inquiry into a firm, searching claim. Max’s other hand slid from a pillow to the back of Charles’ neck, his fingers tangling in the short hairs there, pulling him impossibly closer.
The heat flared, sharp and immediate. Charles’ fingers tightened on Max’s shoulders as Max’s tongue traced the seam of his lips, a silent, urgent request that Charles answered without a second thought. The kiss became a messy, breathless exploration — hungry and eager, fueled by days of unspoken tension and the profound relief of finally being on the same page. Max’s thumb brushed against the pulse fluttering wildly in Charles' throat, and he let out a shuddering sigh, arching into the touch, wanting more, needing more-
“What the hell?”
Arthur’s voice rang out sharply, cutting through the room. Charles flinched and scrambled away from Max into the ground, landing awkwardly on his backside with a painful thud. He looked up to see his brother standing in the living room, his face a mixture of shock and incredulity.
“What are you doing here?” Charles snapped, glaring at Arthur as he tried to get to his feet.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing on him?” Arthur shot back, gesturing wildly at Max, who remained seated on the couch, looking disoriented.
“What do you think I was doing?” Charles retorted sarcastically, finally standing, though he winced as a sharp pain shot through his lower back. Damn it, still sore.
Arthur’s face twisted in exaggerated realisation. “Wait… Is that why you switched teams?”
Charles groaned, throwing his hands up. “No, dumbass! Do you really think I’d change my entire career for a guy?”
“For the four-time world champion maybe!” Arthur exclaimed, gesturing so wildly that he nearly knocked over a nearby lamp.
“Shut up!” Charles snapped, his face burning.
“Can we speak English, please?” Max interjected, still seated, his tone light, but his expression was tensed back up.
Charles huffed and stomped over to sit beside Max on the couch, crossing his arms defensively. Arthur, still in disbelief, dropped into the armchair opposite them, staring at the pair as though he’d walked into a soap opera.
“Since when has this been happening?” Arthur asked, pointing back and forth between them.
“A week.” Charles mumbled.
“… Officially.” Max added, and shrugged when Charles sent him a half-heated glare.
“And unofficially?” Arthur pressed, narrowing his eyes.
“It’s been coming.” Charles hissed.
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “So,” he started, “you two... are dating? Like, seriously dating?”
Charles hesitated. “Uh...” His eyes darted to Max, his brain scrambling for an answer. They hadn't talked about titles.
Max, ever calm, smiled at him reassuringly. “We’re getting there.”
Charles relaxed instantly and squeezed Max’s hand, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Oh, great.” Arthur groaned. “You’re going to be disgusting.”
Charles narrowed his eyes. “That’s homophobic.”
“No, that’s you -phobic because you’re embarrassing yourself.” Arthur shot back, dodging the pillow Charles chucked at him.
“I’m going to throw you out the window.” Charles growled.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You tell maman yet?”
“No.”
“You going to?”
“I will.”
“When?”
“When I feel like it.” Charles replies petulantly.
“You shouldn’t keep it from her.” Arthur threw hands, frustrated, “One thing is sleeping with gays at yacht parties, and another is having a full boyfriend you work with.” He said, using his terrible pronunciation of the word ‘guys’, probably on purpose.
“It’s not that easy, Arthur.” Charles snapped. He sighed, closing his eyes and pressing the heels of his palms into them.
How could he explain it? It wasn’t just about saying the words. It was about dismantling an entire future his parents had so lovingly built for him in their minds.
Pascale never pressured him, not directly. She was careful, especially around Alex, never wanting to impose the heavy weight of expectation. But Charles saw it in the quiet moments — the soft way she’d talk about “someday, when you have children of your own,” her eyes warm with a hope he felt he was destined to disappoint. Both she and his father had always spoken of their desire for their sons to find a fulfilling life outside of the all-consuming world of racing. A family, they’d said. Something that lasts longer than a career.
Before he died, Charles had promised his father he would find that happiness. He’d promised he would build a family, that he wouldn’t let the sport be the only thing that defined him. But how could he explain that his version of happiness, his version of family, might look nothing like the one they had envisioned? Telling his mother felt like breaking that promise to his father all over again. It felt like another failure, another way he was letting them down.
His voice wavered when he finally spoke, raw and strained. “I will tell her soon. But it’s still fucking hard.” The sting of tears threatened, and he hated himself for it.
Arthur’s teasing demeanour vanished, replaced by a flicker of genuine concern. He watched his brother for a long moment, the silence stretching between them.
“Alright, sorry. I-” He exhaled and nodded. “Okay. You know I’m here for you, right? Always. What’s the term? I support you.”
Despite himself, Charles let out a small laugh. It wasn’t mean, just amused at Arthur’s clumsy attempt at solidarity.
“Thanks, Tu.” he said, mockingly formal. “I appreciate it.”
Arthur grinned, relieved, and jumped up to pull Charles into a smothering hug.
“No, don’t start.” Charles warned, trying to shove him away, but Arthur only tightened his grip. It should be illegal for your baby brother to become bigger than you. “Max, help!” Charles called out.
“Don’t involve me in whatever this is.” Max said, chuckling from the other side of the couch.
Arthur leaned closer, muttering in French, “I’m kinda still scared of his face.”
“Shut up, it’s a nice face,” Charles shot back, pushing his brother’s face away.
“‘Oh, it’s a nice face.’” Arthur mocks.
Charles groaned and promptly kicked Arthur off the couch, only to grab him by the hair and drag him toward the door.
“Alright, out.”
Arthur yelped, laughing as he stumbled into the hallway. Out on the corridor, he made smooching faces, and Charles shut the door on it, exhaling as he pressed his forehead against the door for a moment.
When he turned back, Max was waiting, leaning against the corridor wall.
“Sorry about all that,” Charles said, embarrassed, glancing at Max and trying to read his expression.
He loved his brother, truly, and he was relieved it had gone… well enough. But a small part of him mourned the missed opportunity for a real, meaningful conversation.
Younger brothers had a knack for showing up just in time to derail things.
“It’s okay.” Max said, reaching out to brush his fingers against Charles’ cheek. “You know I told my sister about you, remember?”
“Yeah, but still,” Charles muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She didn’t catch us in the middle of kissing. That dumbass.”
“Don’t stress. He’s cool.” Max said. Then, after a pause, he studied Charles’ face. “How are you feeling? You seemed a little panicked for a second.”
Charles hesitated, thinking.
“I… I’m good.” he said eventually, looking down. “Mostly just shocked, I guess.”
Max hummed, wrapping an arm around him.
“So,” Max murmured, voice light with amusement, “would now be a good time to mention that my mom and sister are at my home and I want you to meet them?”
Charles would only meet Sophie and Victoria three days later, giving them time to spend with Max as a family.
Still, the thought of it left him slightly nervous.
He’d met Sophie and Victoria plenty of times before — even earlier this season in the paddock — and they’d always been warm and welcoming. Sophie, especially, was a delight. Charles was quite a big fan of her career, and when they saw each other, she often cracked jokes about Charles’ hairstyle at 13 years old and how relieved she was that Max and Charles had managed to share a team.
Max had been clear that this wasn’t going to be a formal introduction of Charles as his partner, not yet. But Charles knew Victoria knew about them, and from the way she glanced at him during lunch.
So this lunch was a “not-meeting-the-family” meeting kind of event. Charles told himself it wasn’t a big deal, but the way he found himself mentally rehearsing conversation topics told another story.
To Charles’ relief, the lunch went smoothly.
Sophie and Charles hit it off, spending most of the meal talking about his karting team. Sophie’s love for karting still shone through her stories, and Charles, in turn, couldn’t help but admire her enthusiasm. So he did the best he could think and invited her to visit the track.
The offer wasn’t about impressing her; it was genuine. He admired her career and thought her involvement would be an honour.
What surprised him was how quickly Sophie accepted — and how the lunch turned into a spontaneous outing to his karting team’s headquarters. Just the four of them — Charles, Max, Sophie, and Victoria — piled into his car and headed off.
During the drive, Charles focused on explaining the layout of the track and the updates to his team’s facilities, doing his best to ignore Victoria’s amused glances in the rearview mirror. He wasn’t sure what she found so funny, but the knowing smirk she kept flashing him made him shift in his seat.
When they arrived at the track, Sophie seemed to come alive. Her posture straightened, her eyes brightened, and an easy smile spread across her face. She slipped effortlessly into conversation with the team’s coaches, swapping stories and trading tips from her own racing days. Watching her, Charles found himself smiling more than he had planned, drawn in by her energy.
When he suggested prepping a kart for Sophie, Charles caught the subtle shift in Max’s expression. His eyes softened, filled with something deeper than pride — something almost wistful.
As Max and Victoria stood together watching their mother getting ready, Charles turned to Vicky. “Do you want to try?” he asked.
She sighed, rolling her eyes, but nodded. He instructed Vincent to lower the training kart’s potency for her, earning himself a playful punch on the arm. He chuckled, rubbing the spot before turning back to Max.
As the women started their laps, Max stood beside Charles, silent and still, watching his mother and sister with a quiet intensity. There was more than admiration in his gaze — something heavier, something Charles recognized. He had seen that same look in his own reflection in the early days of his career, when he thought about Arthur’s and Lorenzo’s dreams being put on hold for his own.
Charles exhaled softly, reaching out to take Max’s hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze, grounding him.
“She’s really good.” Charles said quietly as Sophie flew through a curve with effortless precision.
Max didn’t look away from the track, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. “She always was.”
They stood there, watching in comfortable silence, until Charles spoke again. “Did Victoria ever want to race?”
Max hesitated. “Dad never gave her a chance.”
“And Sophie?”
Max’s gaze remained on the track, but his expression grew distant. “When she was old enough, mum didn’t want her going down the same road I was.”
Charles watched his face, understanding the weight behind his words.
“It was good.” Max continued after a pause. “She deserved a chance at a normal life.” He sent a small, weak smile Charles’ way.
Charles nodded in quiet agreement.
“Her kids talk about racing sometimes.” Max added. “But I think she’s trying to steer them away from it.”
“It’s a lot of pressure,” Charles said.
Max let out a slow breath. “Yeah. And I don’t want to take the chance away from them if it’s what they really want, but at the same time…” His voice trailed off, his jaw tightening slightly. “I wish they wouldn’t.”
Charles didn’t respond right away, letting Max have the space he seemed to need. Instead, he nodded, his fingers loosely gripping the edge of a blanket draped over the pit wall.
Max’s voice was quieter when he spoke again.
“You asked before about why Kelly and I broke up.” He paused, exhaling through his nose. Charles nodded, a small gesture of encouragement without intruding. “We were happy, you know? We were even trying for a baby.”
Charles’ eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t speak, his expression softening. Max glanced at him, then quickly looked away, as though saying it aloud made it too real.
“There were… complications.” Max admitted, his voice lowering. “We wanted it, though. Both of us.” His gaze drifted toward the horizon, where city lights shimmered in the distance. “At first, it was good. Exciting, even. But then…” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Kelly’s dad started making comments.”
Max tensed slightly, his body shifting just enough for Charles to notice.
“Jokes, you know.” Max said, his voice sharp with bitterness. “‘Oh, the kid will be a champion like their granddad.’ Or ‘You’ll have them karting by five, right?’ Stuff like that.”
Charles’ expression darkened, “Piquet.” he muttered, barely hiding his disdain.
Max let out a humourless chuckle. “Yeah.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “At first, I brushed it off. People say stupid things all the time. But then Kelly started saying things, too. Little stuff. Like, look at this baby race suit, or how happy it would make her dad to see the kid racing. Or how it was ‘in their blood.’”
Max’s grip on his knee tightened, his knuckles white. “I told her I didn’t want that. That if we had a kid, they wouldn’t be under any pressure to race. Not from me, not from anyone.” Max gave a small shake of his head, “But Kelly didn’t get it,” Max continued. “She thought it was just part of who we are. She said things like ‘they’ll learn to love it’ or ‘it would make their grandfathers so proud.’”
Charles frowned, his fingers digging into the blanket. “She didn’t see the problem?”
Max shook his head, his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. “No. And the more I tried to explain, the clearer it became that we weren’t on the same page. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with pushing them into it. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t do that to my kid.”
A heavy silence settled between them. Charles shifted slightly, his posture softening as if he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure how.
Max sighed. “Things got worse after that. We started fighting. A lot. It wasn’t just about the kid anymore, it was everything. The lies, the spending, the publicity… And then one day, I said that we couldn’t do it anymore.”
Charles took a deep breath, his eyes filled with quiet empathy.
“She wanted a clean break.” Max said, his voice hollow. “No lingering connections. That included P.”
Charles exhaled slowly, “That must’ve been devastating.”
Max nodded, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “It was. Kinda of it still is.” He takes a deep breath, “But maybe it was for the best. Better to figure it out now than later.”
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Charles sat with him in it, offering quiet reassurance.
Then Max spoke again, his voice softer. “But if I did have kids… if they really wanted it… I’d want us to agree on how to go through it.”
Charles blinked, caught off guard. He turned to study Max, his expression unreadable. “Us?”
Max’s ears flushed, realising what he said, “I- I meant me and my partner. Like, if it were us, of course, it would be way down the line. If– if you would… want that.”
Charles chuckled at the awkwardness, the sound warm and unforced. Max shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.
It was a nice thought, Charles realised. He wasn’t sure when, if it could ever happen, but the idea stayed with him.
“I’d also not want them to race.” he said eventually, his voice quieter now. “And I'd think we’d be good at it. Together. At some point.”
Max’s smile softened, “Yeah,” he whispered. “At some point.”
After Sophie finished her laps and joined them, the four of them headed back to the car. On the way, they discussed upcoming plans.
“Do you have anything planned next week?” Victoria asked casually.
“We’re going to the U.S. for the movie premiere.” Charles replied, noting the identical grimaces Max and Sophie exchanged.
“Sounds fun.” Sophie said, though her tone made it clear she was aware of Max’s distaste for the movie.
“It’ll be hell.” Max muttered, earning himself a light slap on the arm from Charles.
“Oh, stop. We’ll be wearing custom Loewe.” Charles teased.
“Wait, he’s finally retiring that old tux?” Victoria asked, her eyes lighting up with amusement.
“We’re going together.” Charles said with a grin. “There’s no way I’m standing next to him if he wears the same tux he’s had since the pandemic.”
Max glared at him, but Charles just smiled, unfazed. It was an old argument, one they’d settled as part of Red Bull’s PR strategy.
When they got back in Monaco, just as Charles was about to leave the family in front of Max’s building, Victoria insisted he stay for dinner, giving a weighted look at Max.
It wasn’t until Charles stepped into Max’s Monaco home that the realisation hit him: he’d never actually been here before.
Before Charles could take in the house, the two cats appeared, slinking between their legs, seemingly uncaring about the stranger in their place.
Charles crouched low, holding out his hand with the kind of patience that could only come from someone who genuinely respected animals.
Sassy was the first to approach, his nose twitching as she sniffed Charles’ outstretched fingers.
“Hi, pretty.” Charles said softly, his voice warm as he gently stroked Jimmy’s forehead.
Max stood back, watching the interaction with an ache in his chest, ignoring the knowing look Victoria sent his way. There was something about seeing Charles crouched there, looking at Sassy with those soft, green-blue-hazel eyes, that struck Max harder than he expected.
At that moment, he thinks he’d never been so in love.
Max ignored the suggestive look Vicky had thrown his way when he’d mentioned going out with Charles. He knew exactly what she was thinking, but he wasn’t going to entertain it. Not now. Not when Charles was right there, walking close to where his car was parked — too close, maybe, but Max didn’t care. It was fine. It was just a short walk.
Inside the apartment, Sophie was watching them go, her brows slightly furrowed. “He’s going out with Charles again?”
Victoria just grinned, sipping the last of her drink. “Codependent teammates, Mum. Just let it happen.”
“So,” Charles said, his voice light as they walked to his car, “it went well, right?”
He was talking about meeting Max’s family properly. Even if Sophie didn’t know the full extent of what they were to each other, the day had felt significant, a quiet integration into a part of Max’s world he kept fiercely private. Charles had wanted, more than anything, to make a good impression.
Max smiled, bumping their shoulders together. “Course it did. Vicky likes you, and mum adored you for letting her race.”
Charles chuckled, a little sheepish. “She was amazing.”
“Yeah.” Max murmured. Then, quietly, “Thank you for today, by the way.”
Charles tilted his head in question.
“She doesn’t really let herself race anymore.” Max explained, his tone thick with an emotion Charles couldn’t quite name. “I think you made her excited enough to try it again.”
“Oh.” A warmth bloomed in Charles’ chest, genuine and deep. “I’m glad.”
They walked a few steps before Charles continued, cleaning his throat.
“Hey, hm, I know it's a bit soon, but next week there will be the karting marathon for Jules, and, you know, no pressure, but you're invited.” Charles offered.
“I would love to go,” Max answers back, his shoulder knockig on his “and kick your ass on karting again.”
By the time they reached Charles’ building, a comfortable silence had settled between them. The heavy door of the underground garage rolled shut behind their car, sealing them in a quiet, concrete bubble away from the watchful eyes of Monaco. Charles cut the engine, and the sudden silence felt intimate, charged.
Max pulled Charles’ hand to his, “I missed you.”
Charles turned in his seat, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You saw me two days ago.”
“Yeah,” Max said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet car. “And I had to spend all that time thinking about our last talk.”
Charles’ smirk widened as he leaned closer across the center console. “About me meeting your mum?” he teased.
Max shot him an unimpressed look, but before he could retort, Charles closed the remaining distance and kissed him — firm, insistent, a release of all the pent-up energy from the long week. But too soon, just as Charles’ hand came up to cup his jaw, Max pulled back, his breath ghosting against Charles’ lips.
“I think I should go home,” Max said, his voice soft but resolute. His hands, which had come to rest on Charles’ waist, gave a gentle, reluctant push.
Charles’ playful mood faltered. He stayed where he was, leaning over the console, his hands now linked loosely behind Max’s neck. He pouted. “Why?”
Max let out a short, nervous laugh. “Come on.”
“Are you protecting my honour, Verstappen?” Charles asked, his voice a low, amused murmur.
Max blinked. “What? No. I mean-” He huffed, breaking eye contact to stare at the steering wheel. “You’re the one who keeps calling yourself a virgin, for fuck’s sake.”
Charles pulled back, “I said that once, and I was joking.”
“Well, I wasn’t laughing!” Max shot back, his frustration real. “I just… I don’t know. Maybe we’re going a little fast.”
Charles smiled, amused and surprised. “Max, you introduced me to your mum.”
“Not as my boyfriend!” Max groaned, looking mortified. “We haven’t even discussed if we’re dating!”
An eyebrow arched. “We talked about kids.”
“That was about my past.” Max said, his face flushing in the dim light of the garage.
Charles chuckled at the agitation and Max took a deep breath.
When he spoke again, his voice dropped. “Look… I’m ridiculously gone for you, Charles. Maybe I’m the one taking it too fast, too serious, but I’m just trying to not screw this up from the start, okay?”
Charles eased back into his own seat, a flicker of his old insecurity fluttering in his chest. He watched Max, really watched him. And that’s when he saw it. Max wasn't treating him with kid gloves out of patronization; he was doing it out of a fierce, clumsy desire to protect what they were building.
“Max,” Charles said, his voice gentle, making Max finally look at him. “we’ve known each other for twenty years. There is nothing fast about us… pun non intended.”
He saw Max let out a slow sigh, the guardedness in his eyes softening just slightly. Charles knew he had to meet him halfway, to show him that his own carefully constructed walls came down when it was just them, in their bubble.
“My dad used to take my mom to a spot at Le Saint Michel.” he said, the memory surfacing, clear and poignant in the quiet car. “It’s the place that taught me what romance looked like. Red candles, a violinist on the corner… Love lived there, for me. It was sacred.”
Max listened, his body turned fully towards Charles now, his gaze fixed and attentive.
“I brought Charlotte there once,” Charles continued, the admission a quiet confession between them. “I planned to ask her to move in. But when I got there… I couldn’t do it. I looked at that sacred place and knew I’d be lying. To her, to myself. So I broke up with her instead.”
He let the memory hang in the air, a testament to the past he was still ashamed, but finally letting go of. He looked up, meeting Max’s eyes, his own clear and certain.
“Being with you doesn’t feel like that. It’s not hard. It’s not forced. It’s the easiest thing in the world, Max.”
The space between them felt electric. Max’s gaze dropped to his lips.
“So,” Charles said, his mouth curling into a small, confident smile, “you can go home. And tomorrow, you can call in every favor you have in Monaco and get us a reservation at Tournesol.” His voice gentled again, full of promise and quiet emotion. “Bring me flowers. Tell me I’m yours. Romance me.” Then, his tone grew teasing. “And then you can fuck me like you mean it. because we do have the time to do it all.”
Max swallowed hard, his eyes dark with an emotion so intense. And then, finally, he nodded. A single, decisive movement in the dim light of the garage that felt like a promise. He leaned across the console again, and this time, the kiss was soft, sealing the words they’d just shared.