Chapter Text
Max has been racing since he was 4 years old and has had his fair share of arguments and actual fights due to racing incidents, most of them started by him. He has a history of making rash decisions on track and racing a little too hard sometimes, especially during his first years at Red Bull when he was so desperate to win that he didn’t care about who was in front or next to him as long as he passed them.
Never in his life has a victory made him feel so strange.
It didn’t look like he’d even get on the podium for a while during the race after the issues with the car, but it pulled through and, before he knew it, he was chasing Charles down to fight him for first place. And what a fight it was; the thrill he got from racing his boyfriend like that reminded him of when they were both in karting, fighting each other every other week and then acting like moody teenagers afterwards. Those memories usually make him laugh and reminisce over how far they’ve come, but today they are way too close to reality.
He knew the second they made contact and he saw the red car going wide that the win was his and briefly felt bad that Charles’ first win wouldn’t happen today, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and focused back on his driving. Crossing the finish line and hearing the deafening screams of the Orange Army is one of the best feelings Max has ever experienced in his career and he was vibrating out of his skin with excitement as he finished the cool down lap and parked the car in front of the number one sign.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Charles wouldn’t be thrilled by how things turned out and he was annoyed by the news that the stewards would be looking into the incident later, but he was honestly too busy being congratulated by his team and drowning in the adrenaline of his first win of the season to be bothered by anything.
After giving the post-race interviews, he goes to his motorhome and takes a moment to himself. Now that he can reflect on the past hour, a feeling much like anger starts rising in his chest; he remembers how Charles completely ignored him in the cool down room, not looking at him even once and then fleeing the podium ceremony as fast as his legs could carry him. Max is pissed that his own boyfriend can’t seem to let go of his anger for one moment to be happy for him, pissed that he’s at risk of losing his podium if the stewards decide to agree with Charles’ crazy idea that his move wasn’t fair and pissed that the feeling of winning in front of the Orange Army for the second year in a row is now going to be tainted by Charles’ anger at him.
He remembers how, exactly a year before, he was celebrating the win with Charles and they confessed their feelings. They’ve gone through a lot since then and it only makes Max angrier that his boyfriend is too stubborn to at least pretend to be happy for him for a little while.
He’s quietly seething in his anger when Vicky knocks on the door and says that they need to make their way to the press conference. He follows her, determined to talk to Charles and give him a piece of his mind.
When they arrive at the hallway outside the press conference room Charles is already there with Mia, so Max marches straight to him and asks if they can talk in private. He sees Mia and Vicky exchanging worried looks, but his eyes remain on the other boy who is looking at him with a murderous look on his face.
He nods without saying anything, so Max turns around and walks towards the end of the hallway. He doesn’t look back, but knows that Charles is following him.
Max stops and turns to face the Ferrari driver, but before anyone can say anything, Valtteri appears. He looks between them in silence, looks at their press officers and walks off towards them, clearly not wanting to be dragged into whatever is going to happen.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Charles’ voice breaks the silence. Max has never seen him so furious before, and that’s saying something.
“It was hard racing, Charles. You’ve done it plenty of times, including to me.”
“That wasn’t hard racing, that was a dirty move and you know it. You didn’t have to push me off the track just to steal the position.” It’s clear from how strained his voice is that he’s trying to keep it down and Max wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.
"I didn’t steal it, asshole. We fought for it and I won, because I didn’t make a mistake. I'm not going to go easy on you just because we're dating. That's not who I am and it never will be." Max knows he’s being harsh and he can feel the hurtful words building in his throat; he wants to tell the other boy that if he's not happy with who Max is, he is welcome to leave. But he can't bring himself to hurt Charles like that, even when he feels so frustrated by his stubbornness that he wants to scream.
"I don't want you to go easy on me!" He exclaims, voice raising and hands clenched by his sides. "I want to race you, fight with you on the track every week and share my wins and losses with you and have you share yours with me, but I can't just ignore what happened, Max!" He's breathing heavily, looking like he's trying to rein his feelings in again, but after a few seconds his shoulders sag, hands opening and face twisting into an anguished expression. "I don't know enough words in any language to describe how much I love you, and I am so proud of you for winning, but this was supposed to be my race and the fact that it wasn't an engine problem or bad strategy that took it from me, but you… That makes me so fucking angry that I can't even look at your face right now."
There isn’t much that Max can say to that.
Before he can try to come up with something, they get called for what is probably going to be one of the most uncomfortable press conferences of their lives. Charles is visibly trying to put his mask of indifference back together, but he’s not being very successful.
Good, Max thinks bitterly to himself; at least now people will see that the Ferrari driver isn’t such a perfect statue only capable of smiling politely or self flagellating for every tiny mistake.
He tries to ignore the immediate guilt that surges in his chest for thinking like that and fails.
----
The stewards rule that there was nothing wrong with how Max overtook Charles and declare it a racing incident. They’re both standing in the room when they make the call and Max stares resolutely ahead, fighting the urge to look at Charles’ face. He knows exactly what he’ll see there.
He wants to believe that, were their positions reversed, he’d be more understanding and supportive of his boyfriend, but now that he’s calmed down a little, he can admit that he’d be just as frustrated as Charles is right now, maybe even more. It’s the second time this season that the Ferrari driver was set to win but something went wrong in the last few laps, and Max knows all too well how the clusterfuck from Bahräin affected Charles.
With nothing left to say, they all leave the room. They’re flying back to Monaco together later today and, as much as Max wants to be petty and ignore Charles right back, he feels the urge to say something.
“Charles,” He calls and the other boy stops in his tracks, looking back at him. His mask of polite indifference is back in place, but Max knows him well enough to see that he’s having to work hard to maintain it. “Do you have a minute?”
It’s obvious that he wants to say no and just walk off, but after a few tense seconds he nods at Max. The Dutchman looks around, then motions for Charles to follow him and walks towards the bathroom, holding the door open for him and ignoring the looks that their engineers are giving them. He closes the door and locks it for good measure, takes a deep breath and turns to look at Charles.
“Please tell me that you’re not actually thinking that we’re going to have sex right now.” The Ferrari driver sounds a bit incredulous and Max chokes on air.
“What the fuck, Charles, no!” Max’s voice cracks halfway through his sentence and he feels his cheeks getting warm. “I mean… Not unless you want to?”
“Max!” He’s leaning back against the counter looking affronted and okay, the joke wasn’t well received.
“I’m sorry, I had to.” At his boyfriend’s unamused stare, he continues. “No, I just wanted to talk somewhere private.”
And nothing else comes out of his mouth. He felt the urge to say something, but didn’t really think about what it’d be.
“Well?” Charles asks, both eyebrows raising in expectation.
“Look, I know that you’re mad right now and I am not going to apologize for overtaking you. You left the door open and I went for it, just like you would’ve done if you were in my place…” Charles opens his mouth as if to interrupt and Max powers through. “No, shut up, I need to say this: I won’t apologize for doing my job and seizing an opportunity to win the race but I am sorry that it came at the cost of your first win.”
“Are you really sorry or are you saying that because you know I’m mad and you don’t want to be stuck on a plane with me like this?” Is Charles’ answer and fucking hell, he is infuriating. Max wants to just smash Charles’ head in. With his mouth, preferably.
“At least you know that you wouldn’t be very good company with your shitty mood.” Max shoots back and Charles looks ready to throttle him. The Dutchman rolls his eyes and crosses the distance between them, stopping when his shoes touch Charles’. “Of course I’m sorry.”
“I’m not forgiving you 100%.” Charles says reluctantly and Max holds back a smirk. “Don’t look so cocky, I mean it. I’m still mad and I’m going to be mad for awhile.”
“I’m sure you are, baby.” The Red Bull driver places one hand on Charles’ waist and the other removes the other boy’s cap and cups his jaw, bringing their faces closer.
“And I expect some groveling when we get home.” He’s trying to keep his voice level, but Max can hear the slight tremble in it and he can’t hold back his smirk any longer. He sees Charles swallow and leans forward to brush their lips together.
“Of course, baby, whatever you say.”
The Monégasque chokes down a sound and kisses him, hands coming up to hold Max’s face and neck. Max moves to press his entire body against his boyfriend’s, the hand on his waist keeping them close together and he feels one of Charles’ hands pushing his cap off and fingers grabbing his hair.
Max could blame the adrenaline from the race and their sort-of fight for how quickly things get heated between them, but it wouldn’t be completely true. It’s always like this with them, and as Daniel and Pierre like to say, even after nine months together they can’t really keep their hands off each other for long.
Charles is up on the counter by now, legs spread to fit the Red Bull driver with one hand still in his hair and the other firmly gripping Max’s ass, who, in return, is holding onto Charles’ jaw with one hand while the other is roaming beneath the other boy’s shirt. His boyfriend keeps making these choked off sounds in the back of his throat and Max wants to ruin him, right here in this bathroom.
“Boys! You’re both needed at other places.” Charles’ engineer’s voice comes through the door, followed by very loud knocks and Charles breaks the kiss with a groan.
“We’ll be right there.” The Ferrari driver says after clearing his throat and looks at Max. “That was interesting.”
“You could say that.” Is the reply Max gives and he looks at the mirror behind Charles; his hair is a mess from his boyfriend’s fingers, face flushed and his lips are so red that anyone who looks at him for a couple of seconds will know what exactly he was doing. Anyone who looks at him or at Charles, who looks just as decadent.
“I’m still mad.” Charles mumbles at him and Max rolls his eyes fondly. He presses another quick kiss to the other boy’s lips and his jaw, next to where his thumb is resting. “And I wasn’t joking about the groveling.”
“I know you weren’t, schatje. I’ll grovel as much as you want once we get home… Or once we get on the plane, you can choose.” Max says suggestively and the hand still on his ass tightens.
“Stop that,” Charles says half-heartedly. “You look a mess and everyone's going to know what we were doing in here.”
“You don’t look much better.” He smirks but steps back so Charles can stand up and fix his shirt. “We can always say that we were fighting.”
Charles shoots him a very unimpressed look that is completely ruined by how flushed his face is and the mess that is his hair. The Dutchman laughs at him and bends down to pick up his cap and, once he stands up again, he’s surprised by Charles frowning at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“You know that I meant what I said earlier, right? That I’m proud of you for winning?” His voice has a tinge of urgency and Max is shocked.
“Of course I do, Charles.” He reassures him, but the other boy doesn’t look convinced.
“Because I am. I know what winning here means to you and even when I was so angry that I couldn’t bear to look at you, I was still so fucking proud of you for winning.” He says earnestly and Max loves this boy more than anything in his entire life.
“I know you were, baby.” He steps closer and grabs Charles’ hand, raising it to press a kiss on the back. “And I know that you’re going to be upset about today for a while and that’s okay. But I need you to believe me when I say that pretty soon you’ll be the one on the highest step of the podium celebrating your maiden win and I’ll be right there watching you and bursting with pride.”
“I don’t think it is going to happen so soon.” Charles’ voice is subdued and it kills Max to know that he truly believes the words he’s saying.
“Yes it is. You’re a fantastic driver with a good car who’s been having a pretty decent season so far. It’s going to happen sooner than you think, I know it.”
Charles’ eyes are shining and he is the most beautiful thing that Max has ever seen.
“I love you.” He says softly, squeezing Max’s hand.
“I love you too.” So much that I don’t even know how to say it.
“BOYS!”
“We’ll be right there!” Max yells back and huffs in annoyance. “Can’t even have a nice moment with my boyfriend.” He says to Charles and is rewarded with what can only be described as a giggle.
“Stop complaining, we shouldn’t even be here.” He admonishes but there’s still a smile on his face.
They both make sure to be presentable before Max opens the door, being met by the stares of their engineers.
“Well then, boys. Let’s go, we have places to be.” He smiles and walks off, knowing that Charles is right behind him.