Work Text:
1.
“Pierre?” Charles asks, neck deep in piles of clothes he’s thrown out of his walk-in closet and onto the floor. “Have you seen my black hoodie?”
“Black hoodie?”
“Yes, the plain one.”
Pierre sits up from his position sprawled out in Charles’ nest. “The plain one? You had a hoodie with nothing on it?”
“Yes. I remember buying it because it was cold in Montreal a few years ago.”
Pierre’s eyes narrow as he tries to remember what on earth Charles is talking about. “Oh! The one you got from that little hole in the wall shop.”
“Yes. I cannot find it, and the weather app says it will be cold in Montreal again.”
Suddenly, the gears click in Pierre’s mind. “About that.”
Charles stops everything he’s doing. He drops the hangers in his hands, and whips his head towards his oldest friend. “About that?”
“It was buried in the back of your closet for years. You haven’t worn it in forever.”
“Because it is always warm in Monaco, yes.”
“Well…”
“Pierre, it is cold in Canada!”
“I know!” The Frenchman has the gaul to look sheepish. “I might have given it to Max, a few years ago.”
“What?”
“Well I did not give it to him. I brought it to the Red Bull factory pack room, and it disappeared.”
“Pierre!”
“You hadn’t worn it in years! And! And!” he starts when it looks like Charles is about to fly across the room to tackle him. “I brought you back a sweater! The white zip up with the fleece lining. It was a fair trade.”
Charles pouts, still glaring at Pierre. “Betrayal.”
— — —
2.
Charles is rifling through Lando’s nest while the Brit picks a Mario Kart stage for them to play on his console.
“I left a yellow button up in your nest a couple weeks ago,” Charles tells him. “Do you still have it?”
“A what?”
“A yellow shirt. Linen.”
“Mate, I have no idea what linen is.”
“It is a light material, very flowy.”
Lando picks Rainbow Road, because of course he does. “Mustard?”
“Yes it was mustard coloured.”
“I think Max stole it last time he was here.”
“3! 2! 1! GO!” the screen shouts.
“Verstappen, not Fewtrell.”
Charles laughs dryly, trying to drift around the curves of the track. “I would have so many questions if Fewtrell had taken it.”
“Yeah, me too.” Lando flies off the edge. “Like: when are you hanging out with other Max, and why wasn’t I invited?”
Charles takes his hand off the controller to shove Lando.
The other omega lets himself fall to his side in delight, eyes alight with mirth. “Do you need it? I’m going to his to play FIFA this weekend. I can try to grab it for you.” He frowns. “You’ll have to show me what linen feels like though.”
“No, it is fine. I have other shirts.”
— — —
3.
Charles throws open the door of his driver’s room after FP3,
“Hello Carlos.” His water bottle thumps on the table. “You were looking good out there.”
“You too.”
Charles blinks a couple times. He frowns. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Nothing.”
Charles raises his eyebrow. “It looks like you are taking my clothes for the laundry. I did not know Ferrari was making us do that, are they paying you?”
Carlos laughs. “No. Laundry is a job for the reserve drivers,” he jokes.
“Then what are you doing?”
“Uhm.” Carlos shuffles on his feet, holding an arm full of Charles’ worn clothes to his chest.
Charles goes to drape himself across the bad couch. “If you wanted items for your den you just had to ask, Carlos. Of course you can take some. Leaving me stuff to wear though.”
“Max is coming to my hotel room for some FIFA after quali,” the Spaniard tells, meeting Charles’ eyes sheepishly.
His eyebrows hit his hairline.
Still staring at Charles, one of Carlos’ arms reaches back for the now-empty-hangers in the tiny closet that come with their driver rooms.
“Carlos.” Charles flops over, a disappointed expression coming across his face. “Commit to stealing my clothes for Max at least.”
“So I can take them?”
His mouth slips into a sarcastic smile. “For your den, yes?”
“For a few hours.”
“Connard. Get out of my room.”
Carlos gets out of his room, Charles clothes held to his chest.
“Good luck in quail!”
“You too!”
— — —
4.
There’s an omega pile in Charles’ nest in the pack room.
Charles’ pack room nest is more like a loosely woven barrier made with soft blankets and items of clothing from the entire grid.
“I’m going to go check on Max,” Daniel says, detangling from the mess of arms, legs, and other body parts. “I think he’s still talking to the mechanics about his car.”
Then, instead of walking to the door, he comes around to where Charles is, and snatches the Red Bull shirt Charles had been using as a pillow from the walls of his nest.
Pierre—the traitor, who is apparently in cahoots with Daniel—lifts his head to help with the steal.
Charles growls. “I hate you!”
Daniel grabs a different Red Bull shirt from the other side of the nest, and tosses it to Pierre, who tucks it lovingly back under Charles’ head.
Then he is unceremoniously dropped back into place.
“I was using that,” he grumbles. He still waves as Daniel leaves the pack room.
— — —
5.
“Oscar how could you?”
“What did I do this time? I’m sorry. What did I do?”
“Petit Lion is mine.”
“What?”
“Petit Lion, the little orange lion plush. He’s mine. People are always taking my stuff to give to Max, and that is fine, but Petit Lion is mine.”
“Oh.” Oscar’s entire face falls. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Max was sad. He was really upset, and Carlos said it was fine. Lewis told me to go get something of yours for Max, so I asked Carlos to grab something from your driver’s room. Lewis said it was okay when I came back with it. Lando was also there. Lando, back me up,” he pleads.
The British omega is tucked into Charles’ other side, purring his little heart out. “Sorry. I didn’t know. You cuddle him all the time, I thought you might like it if he smelt like Max.”
“I would,” Charles cries. “But he’s mine.”
“I’m sorry,” Oscar says again, putting his weight on Charles.
He sniffles. “It’s okay.”
“You are crying.”
“Petit Lion is with Max, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Then he is not lost. He is okay. Max will keep him safe.”
“Mate, you’re rocking.”
“I have just realised Pierre is no longer a Red Bull, and I have no idea how Petit Lion is going to get back to me.”
“Daniel?” Lando offers.
Charles laughs. “Pierre said Max chased Yuki’s getaway car for twenty minutes when he had to heist Petit Lion back for me last time. I would not wish that fear of Max onto Daniel, they are friends.”
Oscar’s voice shakes when he offers: “I could do it?”
“I would not wish that on you either. Even if you gave Max Petit Lion.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It is fine.” Charles shakes his shoulders, and starts to purr at Oscar to calm him down. “Is Max okay?”
“Yes. The plushie really helped him.”
“Good.”
— — —
+1
“Charles? Are you here?” Ollie asks, coming into the Ferrari motorhome pack room.
“Yeah?”
“I have your plushie–oof,” Ollie grunts as Charles tackles him to the ground.
“Petit Lion! Bonjour! Vous me manquez! Thank you,” Charles says, eyes shining.
Ollie scoots back slowly on the floor. “I. Uh.”
“How did you get him back, petit ourson?”
“I just grabbed him? I was hanging out with Isack and he needed to grab something from Max’s room. I saw him on the little bed thing you guys have in your driver’s room, and I recognised Petit Lion. So I just, like, grabbed him.”
“You are my favourite.” Charles tucks Petit Lion under his arm, and pulls Ollie up from the floor. “Are you busy? Does Prema need you? Or Ferrari? Haas?”
“N-No?”
“Good then. Come cuddle,” he orders.
“Did Max see you?” Carlos asks from his place in the Ferrari den.
“No?” Ollie asks, allowing himself to be pulled into Charles’ embrace.
“Good. When Max notices Petit Lion is gone, tell him immediately that Charles has him and blame Isack.”
“Why should I blame Isack?”
“He tried to kill Pierre when Pierre had to rescue Petit Lion from Max’s Den at Red Bull a couple years ago.”
“Oh!”
“Max did not try to kill Pierre! Shush Carlos. do not listen to him, Ollie. Carlos is just being mean to other-dad because they are friends.”
Carlos’s eyes bug out of his head, but in a still measured voice he says: “Max chased Pierre and Yuki out of Milton Keynes. Do yourself a favour Ollie and blame Isack when the time comes.”
Charles pets Ollie’s hair. “Merci pour Petit Lion.”
“You’re welcome,” Ollie replies, a little scared.
Carlos
Charles just called Max other-dad
Charles just told Ollie “Carlos is being mean to other-dad because they are friends.”
Lando
Why were you being mean to Max?
Carlos
I feel like you aren’t reacting enough to this Cabron.
Ollie stole the lion back from Max.
I was warning him about Max’s past reaction to that
Lando
Ollie will be fine.
Ollie is Max’s pup.
Well Ollie is Charles’ pup.
Carlos
Pierre was Charles’ friend???
Lando do you know something I don’t?
Lando
Nope!
He let Oscar call Max other-dad too.
It might be a Charles’ kids are allowed to thing.
Carlos
These two are going to be the death of me.
Lando
Yeah.
Speaking of death.
Wish me luck.
I’m going to go warn Max that Petit Lion is gone so he doesn’t go on a rampage.
Carlos
I thought you said Ollie would be fine because he’s Charles’ pup?
Lando
Yeah, but Max’ll be scary until he realises it was Ollie.
Carlos
Isack was also there with Ollie.
Lando
Got it.
Carlos
Good luck.
— — —
Addendum.
It’s the Monaco Grand Prix and there is a banging at Charles’ apartment door.
Charles peaks through the peephole and can’t see anyone, but he can hear the banging currently emanating from the hallway. Maybe the person is just short?
He cautiously opens the door, and a body comes barrelling through.
“Yuki?”
He throws down two suitcases, and unzips them in record time.
“Uhm? If you need a place to stay I can make up the guest room?”
“No, I am good.” He scoops up the entire contents of the suitcase onto Charles’ floor, and the smell of Max fills the air immediately. “I need to go back soon. Daniel and Liam are covering for me. I have grabbed everything of Max’s not is not a Red Bull shirt.” The second suitcase’s contents also make their way to the lobby of Charles’ apartment. He then shoots his arm into the mass and digs up a plain black hoodie. “Pierre said you were looking for this? For Canada?” He holds it out to the frozen Monegasque.
Charles extends his arm slowly, his fingers gripping the fleece. “Yes.” He swallows. “For next race.”
Yuki nods. “Okay I have to get back. Red Bull sleepover at Max’s.”
“Sounds fun,” Charles says, a little floaty. “Do you need something to bring back? A trade?”
“No no. If I bring something back he will notice.”
“Is that a problem? If he will be mad you should bring this back.”
“Oh no, he won’t be mad. Just insufferable. Bye Charles! Good luck in the race!”
“You too,” he tells his closed front door.
Holding the fleece to his face, Charles sinks to the floor. He drops the hoodie from his face, reaching out his fingers to brush over all of this new Max infused fabric.