Honey, Hell is when I fight with you

Chapter 1: San Francisco, California

Chapter Text

After knocking on the front door to Lando’s flat, Max found himself, as always feeling incredibly awkward and out-of-place. He glanced around nervously at the BMWs and the stupid decorative shrubs of Lando’s fancy neighbours, and clutched his bottle of wine offering tighter. Max had known him since they were both wide-eyed college freshmen at UCSB, and out of all of their friends — with all the love in the world — Lando seemed the most likely to live in a studio apartment with nothing but a mattress, an XBox, and a mild roach infestation. As it was, Max was closer to that fate than Lando currently was.

Lando just happened to strike gold by getting himself engaged to an actual Spanish god with a swanky job and an eye for interior design.

Said Spanish god — otherwise known as “Carlos” — opened the door, finally, with all the suave flair of a Calvin Klein model. His stupid hair flopped perfectly over his forehead, and so sue Max if he found it difficult to swallow when Carlos took the bottle of wine from him. Max just hoped that it wasn’t damp from his gross, sweaty hands.

“Max, so lovely to see you,” Carlos said in that stupid sexy accent , literally how did Lando score him, “Come inside, Lando’s just getting dressed. I think George and Alex said they’d be here soon.”

Max cleared his throat and nodded, stepping across the threshold and into their living room that was straight off the front cover of an issue of Home Design . The pillows were colour-coordinated, and there was even an honest-to-god fire crackling in the fireplace. In f*cking August. Max thought of his own apartment: nice enough, he wasn’t struggling by any means, but with work taking up seemingly every waking minute and no one to share the space with, he had never found the motivation to make it anything more than a half-assed and soulless Ikea set room.

Carlos led him back to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? We have a full bar, but also plenty of non-alcoholic options. Charlie here is just having water.”

Max froze. He hadn’t noticed until just now the silent third presence in the room. Charles Leclerc was perched on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, sipping daintily from his glass of water. He flushed a bit when the attention turned to him, offering the most forced nod Max had ever seen.

Max cleared his throat again. Why had he agreed to this? “Charles, a pleasure.”

Charles just snorted. “Is it?”

“I dunno. It was. I assumed this was going to be a civilised event.”

Carlos laughed awkwardly. “Max, your drink?”

“Oh, uh yes, could I just get a gin and tonic please?”

Lando finally made himself known, peeling around the corner, socked feet on hardwood floors almost causing him to careen into Carlos where he was carefully measuring out a shot of gin for Max’s drink. Instead of telling him off, Carlos just got that goopy smile on his face that had Max convinced Lando had brainwashed him.

“Cariño, how was your shower?” Carlos asked, pulling Lando into his side. Lando giggled, kissing Carlos on the cheek before tucking his face into the older man’s neck. Max gagged.

“It was good. Water pressure was sort of weak, might need to get it looked at.”

Carlos hummed. “I had noticed that too. Can you call someone this week?”

Lando nodded, before pulling away from Carlos’ side to pull something out of the oven. “Where did you want this, love?”

“There’s a coaster on the dining room table!” Carlos called back. “Could you put in the potatoes next? They’re on the counter.”

“Sure thing!”

Max stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, not sure what to do with himself. He was sort of silently reeling from watching the sheer domesticity that was Lando and Carlos, Carlos and Lando. I mean look at them: they were hosting a dinner party for their friends, and Lando was even helping to cook. In college, Lando had been the embodiment of a 12-year-old boy trapped in the body of a 20-year-old. He hated work and responsibility, and could barely make microwave ramen without burning it. He had also been convinced that he would never let himself get tied down ever.

Watching him here, in his gorgeous home, head over heels in love and behaving like a quasi-adult had Max feeling an embarrassing combination of jealousy, pride, and inadequacy. He was proud of his friend for finding something so good, but he also wanted it so badly for himself. It felt like he was doing something wrong.

Max had a good job. His personality was alright. He wasn’t ugly, or at least he hoped so. If Lando Norris could find the long-term love of his life, why couldn’t he?

Let Max be clear here. He made it sound like he had absolutely no respect or faith in his best friend. He did . It was just…

Yeah.

George and Alex finally arrived. George was cradling a casserole in a Le Creuset and Alex had their weiner dog named Tiffany under one arm. Their brand of domesticity was of no offence to Max, given that he had been forced to put up with it since their college days, but that had changed the minute they started arranging f*cking puppy playdates with Lando and Carlos’ Boston Terrior, Lucy, in Alamo Square park every Tuesday and Thursday. Max was beginning to feel left out.

When everything was finally finished cooking, Carlos ushered everyone to their assigned seats. All the couples sat together, of course, and the two single freaks — Max and Charles — were forced to sit next to each other at the end of the table.

Carlos grimaced a little when he noticed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it, really. I hope you two can get along alright.”

“They’ll be fine,” Lando drawled, “Sit down, you’ve been on your feet all day.”

Max nodded, shooting Carlos a strained smile. “We’ll be fine.”

Max personally planned on being civil and hoped Charles could do the same. He liked to think he was the mature friend of the friend group, but being around Charles made that incredibly difficult sometimes.

Max didn’t even know why Charles was here. All of them were friends from their university days, plus Carlos because he lived here. Then there was Charles. Lando had met Charles because he had at one time been dating Pierre, someone Lando was sort-of friends with at work. Then Pierre and Charles had broken up and Pierre had moved across the country and for some reason Charles had just stuck around. Like black mould or a pesky stain.

It didn’t help that they were constantly forced together because all these couples moved in pairs and they happened to be the two sad single friends.

Once the food was served and toasts had been made, Alex immediately dove into a story about something ridiculous Tiffany had done last week. Something about sh*tting on the carpet, maybe. Max was too focused on rearranging his food by colour on his plate. He began to entirely tune out the conversation when Lando responded with a similar story about Lucy.

It was for this reason that he didn’t notice at first that someone was talking to him.

“Max. Max. Hello!”

Charles kicked his shin. Max jumped, then turned to glare at him. He was met with a sh*t eating grin as Charles tilted his head towards Lando, who was waiting expectantly.

Max blushed. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Lando giggled. “I asked if you had a date set in stone. For when you’re leaving.”

“Oh.” It had been only a matter of time until someone brought up the only interesting thing going on in Max’s life: the fact that he was moving to the other side of the country in a week. “Sort of, yeah. Everything’s packed, and I’m signing the lease for the apartment on the 7th of September, so I’ll probably leave on the 30th.”

George dropped his head into his hands and pretended to sob. “Oh, what are we going to do without our Maxie! Why do you have to leave us?”

Max snorted. “I’m actually moving entirely because I got sick of fifth-wheeling you guys.”

“You weren’t fifth-wheeling!” Alex protested. “You had Charles!”

Max gave him a look, which was all it took to send the table into hysterics. All except Charles, of course.

“Hey!” Charles protested, kicking Max’s shin. “I’m right here, you know.”

“Ow!” Max shoved Charles. “And don’t act all innocent, like we’re best friends or something.”

Charles sniffed and crossed his arms. “Well, you could at least pretend and not act like I have a contagious disease.”

“Maybe you do. You can never tell with the French. I hear bed bugs are going around over there.”

“I am not French, for the last time! Putain de merde! And anyway, I haven’t been back to Monaco in years.”

“Guys, please!” Alex groaned. “It’s the season of giving, and I am asking for the both of you to give me a break.”

"Thanksgiving isn't for another two months," Charles protested, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Yeah, what Alex said” Lando agreed, mischief twinkling in his eyes. Uh oh. “After all, you’ll both be living in the same city and the only people you know will be each other.”

Pause. What?

Max blinked rapidly, wondering if his ears were failing him. “Excuse me, what?”

Lando smiled and tilted his head in faux innocence. “What, you didn’t know? Charles and Pierre made amends, and Charle’s going out to Boston to be with him.”

Max sighed. Of course, that’s where Pierre had f*cked off to. Just his luck.

“Well, it’s a big city, right? We probably won’t even run into each other.”

Lando pouted. “You’re not even going to try to stay in touch? You’re going to need a familiar face. The east coast is a scary place, you don’t understand.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Lando, you’ve been there once. And it was to f*cking Connecticut.”

“Hey, I’m just putting it out there. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“Well, it’s not exactly like we talk every day or something.” Max said petulantly, spreading a layer of mashed potatoes over all his food with the back of his spoon so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with anyone.

Alex spoke up. “Well, maybe that could change. I really don’t understand why you two don’t get along. It really would be nice for the both of you to have someone to at least rely on in Boston.”

“I’ll have Pierre,” Charles mumbles.

Max dropped his potato-covered spoon with a clatter. “Can we just talk about something else? Please?”

Alex and George gave each other an awkward look. They seemed to communicate something with their eyes. Alex’s brows furrowed, and George responded by giving him a small nod and rubbing his thigh. This seemed to be enough for Alex, who jumped straight into another story from his high-end pet grooming salon that he ran like nothing happened.

Everyone moved on, but Max felt Lando’s eyes on him like laser beams, so he quietly excused himself to the bathroom.

When he entered the bathroom, Max immediately rolled his eyes at the personalised towels and the air-freshener. His reflection stared back at him in the pristine bathroom mirror. His lips were red from where he had been chewing them — an old nervous habit — and his brows were furrowed in an angry expression that he never realised he was doing. Max hated it. He looked like his father.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. Lando’s muted voice said, “Could I come in, please?”

Max sighed and opened the door. “What if I was sh*tting?”

Land blinked. “You weren’t.”

“But I could have been.”

“Oh shut up,” Lando said, rolling his eyes and pushing past Max, closing the door behind them, “I knew you weren’t.”

“So, why has the host himself left all his guests to fend for themselves?”

“Oh please.” Lando rolled his eyes again. “If anyone’s the host, it’s Carlos. I’m nothing more than his sexy arm accessory.”

Max grinned. “Don’t sell yourself short like that.”

Lando smiled, but it was a little more subdued. “Are you alright?”

Max blinked. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Don’t bullsh*t me. I saw how tense you were.”

“Look, it’s nothing alright? Not a big deal. Alex can just be a little pushy sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, by the way. I was being pushy too,” Lando said.

“It’s really fine, Lando.”

Lando didn’t seem to be reassured by any of Max’s words. “Look, I know Alex wasn’t there when everything went down last year. If you wanted me to, I could talk to him.”

“Save me the humiliation, please,” Max groaned. “I don’t want to think about that ever again.”

Lando shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

It was silent between the two of them for a minute. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the mirror. It reminded Max of him and Lando in college, trying to brush their teeth over the same tiny dorm sink and making strange faces at each other in the mirror, until one of them would inevitably laugh and spray foamy toothpaste everywhere.

Just then, Lando pulled a face, widening his eyes comedically and pulling his head back to form a double chin. A shocked giggle forced its way out of Max.

“I can’t believe I ever thought you could be more mature than me,” Max said.

Lando gasped, batting his eyes. “You thought that? Why, Max, I’m honoured!”

“Shut the hell up,” Max chuckled, shoving Lando lightly.

Lando glanced at Max in the mirror, his face becoming serious again. “You know, it might help to at least try talking to him about it. About what happened. You and Charles are probably two of the most stubborn people I’ve ever known, and I can practically guarantee you guys have never had a real conversation about it. Or about anything, honestly. Ever.”

Max sighed. Lando wasn’t wrong. He had met Charles for the first time a little over a year ago. He and Pierre had hosted a party at their house, and Lando dragged Max along, with the excuse of not knowing anyone else there.

Their initial introduction hadn’t been terrible. Lando had introduced them, and Charles had shook his hand with a blinding smile. Max is loath to admit that his heart had sort of skipped a beat at the big, green eyes and soft, brown hair. They had gotten to talking a little bit, and he had been excited to discover that Charles was also a big Formula 1 racing fan. He was even more excited to learn that his father, Hervé Leclerc, had driven for F3 and even F2 briefly.

It wasn’t until later that evening, after Max was quite a few drinks in, that everything fell apart. Max had accidentally stumbled into a side table, knocking off and breaking the trophy that had been sitting on it. Charles was over immediately, the kind, green eyes from earlier now filled with rage. He refused to accept any of Max’s many apologies, and had held a grudge ever since. Max had felt extremely guilty at the time, but the longer Charles had stayed mad at him, the more he was convinced it was no longer his problem and that Charles was just immature.

He didn’t even know why it was such a big deal, anyway. The thing was tiny, honestly sort of ugly, and looked easy enough to glue back together. Besides, it was probably only one of many that belonged to Hervé Leclerc. The man would surely have understood. Charles hadn’t even won it, so Max wasn’t sure why he was so upset.

It was too late to talk about it. It had become such a thing that Max would frankly be embarrassed to talk about it and admit that something so tiny and stupid had evolved in a dramatic, year-long squabble. Besides, Max had no real desire to make amends and befriend Charles Leclerc. He had shown Max his true colours a long time ago.

“Maybe someday,” he finally said to Lando.

Lando just sighed, seemingly accepting his response for what it was: an avoidance. “Let’s go back before people start to get suspicious.”

Max laughed. “I think we should play into it. Make everyone think we’re having a quickie in here.”

“Nooo, Carlos would be mad at me!”

“Carlos should know that he’ll never be the most important man in your life.”

Lando shoved Max with a sappy grin. “I’ll really miss you, you know.”

Ordinarily, Max would roll his eyes, maybe tell Lando to shut the hell up and stop going all soft on him. But it was rare to see Lando letting his guard down like this, so Max just smiled. “I’ll miss you too, buddy.”

“Alright, let’s get the hell out of here. For real.”

Here’s the thing about Max. He still wasn’t entirely sure he knew what he wanted to be when he grew up.

Yeah, maybe he had a fancy degree in computer science and a brain that could do calculations in a split second. Maybe he had a nice apartment in San Francisco and more money than someone in their mid-20s should really know what to do with. If he stayed at any company for more than a year (which, he could work anywhere he wanted, really, with his youth, experience, and competence) and worked his way up, he’d be practically untouchable.

Yet, at every place Max has worked since he’s graduated, he’s lasted only a brief amount of time before he started to get this… itch, a shake in his leg, like he couldn’t sit still. His coworkers would start to get annoying, no matter how much he liked them, and he’d get an urge to do something insane like throw his laptop at a wall and sprint from the building. He’d get home at the end of the day, to his empty apartment, and his nervous energy would have nowhere to go.

Thus, he became a chronic quitter. He’d last a month or so, maybe two or three. He lasted just over a year at one place; his longest streak. Then he’d get that restless feeling and just quit.

It had only been a matter of time, with his last job. Max had actually really liked it, in many ways. The people had been tolerable, minded their own business. The work had been pretty engaging, and he hadn’t been forced to go to too many pointless meetings. Yet, at about halfway through his third month there, he had gotten that itch again, and had quit pretty quickly after that.

What was different about this time, however, was that the job he had applied and been hired for to replace it was in Boston f*cking Massachusetts. 3,000-ish miles away. Max found himself pondering aloud sometimes if this was maybe the stupidest spur-of-the-moment decision he had ever made. After all, he had lived in the Bay Area since he was 11 years old, which was, like, two-thirds of his life. It was all he knew. But at the same time, he had been in the same place since he was 11 years old, so maybe it was time for a change of pace.

Max was still nervous as all hell as he packed up the rental van with every one of his limited personal belongings. He didn’t have a car, and it wasn’t that he couldn’t afford one, but he was of the mind that owning a car in San Francisco was more trouble than it was worth. Where he was headed, Boston, was apparently not much better when it came to city driving, so why would he bother?

When every last box was tucked safely into the back of the van, Max locked it and headed back up to the empty apartment that soon would no longer be his. He looked around at the space and found that he felt no attachment to it whatsoever. Everything was pristine; no nicks in the floor from chairs sliding or kitchenware being dropped. The paint on the wall was pristine, no chips or left-behind adhesives. At least Max’s landlord would be happy.

Max had just made himself comfortable, sitting criss-cross on the bare hardwood floors with some Chinese takeout from the place down the street, when his phone began to buzz. When Max checked his phone, it was to an unknown number calling him. He picked up anyway.

“Hello?” he said, tentative.

“Max? It’s Charles.”

Max blinked. “Charles? How did you get my number?”

Charles scoffed. There was some feedback, like he was somewhere windy. Max could hear what sounded like cars rushing by, like Charles was on the side of a road. “Lando gave it to me.” Goddamn it Lando, you’re dead to me, Max thought. “Look, my car broke down. But it’s, like, totally f*cked. Like, I called my insurance and it sounds like it’s totalled.”

“Okay, and why do I need to know this?” Max asked. “You can’t get someone else to come pick you up?”

“No, it’s not that.” Charles groaned, and there was more feedback, then silence, as if he had climbed back into his car. “Look. I would not be asking this of you if it wasn’t my absolute last choice.”

Oh god. Max couldn’t even find it in himself to feel insulted by Charles’ words, because the feeling was overwhelmed by an impending sense of doom. “What is it, Charles? Spit it out.”

“So, I really can’t afford to rent a car or get a new one before I need to move east.”

Max sighed. He knew that Charles wasn’t quite as well off as the rest of them. He had originally been living somewhere further down the coast, maybe Fresno county or Monterey, and had only moved to San Francisco to live with Pierre. When they had broken up and Pierre had moved away, though, he had sort of just… stayed in San Francisco. And San Francisco was not exactly known for a cheap cost of living.

“What do you need Charles?”

“Okay, well, I know we haven’t had the best history. You can, like, say no. I’ll figure something out. I was just wondering if— if maybe I could get a ride with you out east.”

Max opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He drew useless circles into the hardwood that was currently making his butt sore.

“Look, it’s whatever, I’ll just call—”

“It’s fine, Charles,” Max found himself blurting out before he could stop himself. “It’s fine. I’m renting a van to drive all my stuff to Boston. If you’re able to put up with seeing me 24/7 for about a week or so, you’re welcome to come along.”

The other end of the line was silent. Max chewed his lip and began picking at the cherry stain of the hardwood floors. He wasn’t sure if Charles was considering it, or just caught off guard, or reconsidering, or—

“Okay,” Charles said finally, sounding breathless. “Um, thanks. When do— when do you plan on leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning, first thing.”

“Okay. Alright, I can do that. I don’t have much stuff.”

“Me neither. Text me your address?”

“I will. Um, thanks again? I really—”

“Don’t mention it,” Max said. He wasn’t even trying to be polite; he just wasn’t sure how to respond to apologies from Charles, and he didn’t need this situation to be more awkward than it already was.

“Ok, thanks. Um. See you tomorrow, I guess.”

“See you tomorrow.” Max hung up.

He dropped the phone to his side and let himself fall onto his back until he was splayed out like a starfish on the bare floors, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers.

What the hell had he just gotten himself into?

Chapter 2: Carson City, Nevada

Notes:

I've switched up the timeline just to fit some of the plot points! if you didn't notice, disregard. if you did notice- I have my reasons!

Chapter Text

Max woke the next morning with a stiff back and the worst crick in his neck. It was a side effect of sleeping in a sleeping bag on hard floors because he had packed up all his furniture the day before. He groaned, shaking life into his limbs, and rolled up his sleeping bag with a tad bit more aggression than was probably called for.

Great. His first day on the road, and Max was starting it in a terrible mood.

After he had shoved the very last of his things into the van and had acquired a coffee drink from the Starbucks across the street — containing two very necessary extra shots of espresso — he punched Charles’ address into the GPS on his phone and pulled away from his San Francisco flat for the final time.

By some miracle from the heavens above, Max found a parking spot right in front of Charles’ building. He did briefly curse out the other man for living on probably one of the steepest streets in this forsaken city as he waited for Charles to buzz him in.

When Charles opened the door, he greeted Max with a strained smile and a quiet “good morning.” Max blinked, still standing in the doorway even after Charles had retreated further into his unit. Now that he thought about it, Max had never really interacted with Charles without one of their friends present, so he had never gotten to know what Charles was like one-on-one.

The answer was “awkward as f*ck,” apparently.

Max supposed he couldn’t really blame Charles for that. Charles probably wanted to be a little asshole like he usually was, but… well, if Charles had graciously let him hitch a ride across the country at the last minute, he’d probably feel a little bad about his usual ribbing, too.

Max finally stepped over the threshold into Charles’ apartment. Former apartment? A sad, little pile of boxes sat in the centre of the tiny, half-furnished space.

“The flat came with some of the furniture,” Charles explained, “and a lot of our stuff was technically Pierre’s, which he took with him, so… this is it.” He gestured to the boxes.

Looking at the limited extent of Charles’ possessions, Max couldn’t help but feel a little sad, despite himself. Before he could do something as silly as feel bad for Charles, he cleared his throat and moved toward one of the boxes. “I’ll help you get these in the van then, yeah?”

Charles nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

“What, did you expect to carry them down yourself while I watched?” Max snorted. “Actually, now that you mention it, that does sound entertaining. You look like you don’t exercise.”

“I do exercise! I run every morning, which is no joke on these hills!” Charles gave Max a little glare and picked up a box. Max couldn’t stop the little smile that found its way to his face. This loosened-up Charles was far more familiar territory. “And I refuse to be your entertainment.”

“How else do you expect to repay my great kindness?” Max said.

Charles rolled his eyes. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

After all of Charles’ boxes were tucked neatly next to Max’s in the back of the van — it had only taken a couple trips overall — they climbed into the cab, Max in the driver’s seat and Charles in the passenger seat. Max glanced over at Charles as he buckled his seatbelt. He was wearing a ratty white Yosemite hoodie and a pair of grey sweats. Max’s second epiphany of the day: he had only ever seen Charles in proper business-casual. He had assumed Charles was too uptight to wear anything less. Now he looked… cosy, almost.

“So here’s what I’m thinking.” Max shoved his phone into the dashboard holder, angling it toward himself and pulling up his GPS. “We switch off every two or three hours, or whenever we get tired.”

Charles nodded.

“You can drive, right?” Max asked.

“Yes, I can drive, Max! I owned a f*cking car!”

“Okay, okay, no need to get offended!” Max said. “Okay, um, I was thinking maybe four hours of driving today, and we can stop somewhere over the Sierra Nevada mountains, maybe push ourselves to just over the border?”

Charles shrugged. “You’re the boss. I’ve never left California myself, so… whatever you think is best.”

“You’ve never left California? Really?”

Charles levelled Max with an incredulous stare. “I had a single mother who was raising three boys by herself. Not only did she barely make enough money to satisfy our endless appetites, there was no way she could have shoved us all in a car for more than an hour or two. Beyond that, it would have been Lord of the Flies.”

Max hummed contemplatively. “I didn’t know that.”

“Know what?”

“Single mom. Two brothers.”

Charles shrugged. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Max couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that erupted from his chest. Charles snapped his gaze to him, offended. “What are you laughing at?”

“That sounded so edgy, mate,” Max said between giggles, “Who are you, Batman?”

Charles went beet red. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

Max sighed, and finally pulled out into traffic. They were silent for a little bit. It wasn’t until they were on the interstate and leaving San Francisco behind that Max broke the silence again.

“What are their names?”

Charles startled slightly. He had already made himself quite comfortable. About ten minutes into the drive, he had pulled a blanket from one of his bags and tucked it around himself. With his face tucked into the blanket and his head resting gently against the side of the cab, his eyes closed and features relaxed, Charles looked like a small child. Who knew it was even possible for him to look not-constipated?

“Who?”

Max gestured with the hand not on the steering wheel. “Your mom and brothers.”

“Oh.” Charles immediately perked up at the mention of his family. “Well my mother’s name is Pascale. She’s lovely. She’s a hairdresser, and I still go home to get all my haircuts from her. In exchange, I help her with English when she has to do paperwork.”

Max chuckled. “Should have known you were a mama’s boy, huh?”

“Well, it’s not like I had much of a choice, did I?”

Max held his hands up. “Hey, I’m not one to speak. I love my mom.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Anyways. My older brother’s name is Lorenzo. He lives in LA right now with his fiance. Then I have a younger brother, Arthur, who lives back at home with mom.”

“So you’re a middle child, too. Tracks.”

“Would you stop trying to read me? What do you mean, ‘tracks’?!”

Max just tutted at Charles, trying his hardest not to laugh. “Your tantrum right now… very middle child. I don’t know how you don’t see it.”

Charles groaned. “Don’t talk to me until it’s my turn to drive.” And with that he shoved his Sony headphones over his ears and curled up against the window, letting his eyes fall shut.

Max smiled, thoroughly satisfied at getting Charles all worked up. He hooked his phone up to the van’s bluetooth and put on one of his favourite Formula 1 podcasts. At one point, Charles lifted one ear of his headphones, and upon hearing what Max was listening to, laughed and called him a nerd before letting his headphones fall back into place.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Max finally pulled over into a rest area. He pulled up to the gas pumps and sent Charles inside to get them lunch. Once the van was refuelled, Max pulled it into a spot so he and Charles could take their time eating and resting before getting back on the road. He turned the engine off and went to the bathroom.

When he got back, Charles still hadn’t returned with the food. Max shrugged and got into the passenger seat. He plucked Charles’ blanket from the passenger footwell and wrapped himself up to his chin. Damn, he thought, Charles had the right idea bringing this thing. He could immediately feel his eyes drifting shut, and he could have honestly fallen asleep in that moment if he wasn’t jarred back to life by the driver’s side door being flung open. There was a flurry of plastic as Charles dumped their food onto the driver’s seat.

Max cracked one eye open, looking over at the three overflowing bags Charles returned with. “Do you think that’s enough food? Do you think we’ll survive?”

Charles huffed. “Shut up. One bag is In-N-Out—” he held up the logo-ed bag— “and the other two are road snacks for today and tomorrow. I get munchy when I’m bored.”

Max didn’t respond, instead pulling the In-N-Out bag towards him. He began to dig through its contents. “Which is mine?”

Charles shoved the bags of snacks into the footwell between them and clambered into the cab. “I got you a double-double. Lettuce and onion, but no tomato because you said you didn’t like it.”

Max frowned. “When did I say that?”

Charles furrowed his brows. “Umm, I’m not sure actually. Maybe it was at one of Carlos and Lando’s dinner parties. Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re right.” Max said. He shook his head. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I can’t either.” Charles laughed. “I guess I just have a good memory?”

“Guess so.”

They both dug into their respective sandwiches, so it was quiet for a few minutes except for the sounds of chewing and Max’s ‘current favourites’ playlist playing faintly on the radio. It was peaceful. Max felt strangely at ease, sitting here curled up in Charles’ blanket at some random rest stop on I-80. He glanced over at Charles. He looked peaceful too, staring contemplatively out the front windshield as he chewed on his burger, his knees tucked to his chest.

It wasn’t until they had both finished their burgers and Charles had disposed of the trash that he really looked at Max.

“Hey, that’s my blanket!”

Max shrugged. “You can’t use it while you’re driving, it’s dangerous. I’m just keeping it safe for you.”

“Whatever,” Charles pouted. He shivered, as if just noticing the absence of his blanket.

Max laughed. “Just get on the freeway, you big baby.”

As they got into the mountains, Max was extremely thankful that he had had the first driving shift, and got to spend the entire rest of the drive with his face pressed to the window. At one point, he rolled down the window and stuck his head out like a dog until Charles began whining that it was too windy, so he had to roll up the window.

San Francisco was a gorgeous city, but nature held a different kind of beauty. Everything was so old, and so colossally huge that just looking at it made Max feel like a tiny little ant.

Without thinking, Max blurted out, “I want to go camping someday.”

Charles glanced at him. “Really? You’ve never been?”

Max shook his head.

“I just assumed you’d done it all,” Charles chuckled. “Camping was actually one of the few vacations my mum was able to take us on. Yosemite, every summer. We’d pack up our car and rent a site for a few days.”

“That sounds nice,” Max sighed. “We did a lot of travelling, but my mom and sister aren’t really outdoorsy people, so I never really got to go camping.”

“We can maybe camp somewhere along the way, if you want,” Charles said.

Max snapped his gaze over to Charles. “What do you mean? We don’t have any equipment for camping.”

Charles smirked. “Of my few possessions I’ve brought with me, a tent and camp stove are somewhere in there.”

“No way! Really?”

Charles shrugged. “When I was going to drive myself out originally, I picked up some camping equipment from my mom’s house. Staying at a campground is much cheaper than staying at a hotel every night, so I figured it might be a nice option to have.”

Max couldn’t contain the goofy grin that overtook his face. “I guess you’ll have to show me the ropes, then.”

“I can’t believe I’m finally better at something than Max Verstappen.”

“Barely. You show me how to pitch the tent and use the camp stove, and I’ll probably be better than you in no time.” Max said.

“Let me have my moment, maybe?” Charles whined.

It was fully dark by the time they stopped for the day at a Motel-6 in Carson City. Charles’ constipated expression was back as they pulled into the half-lit parking lot and up to the front doors.

“You know, you really act like a princess for someone of your background.” Max said.

“What does ‘someone of your background’ mean?” Charles spluttered.

Max shrugged. “You know. Not rich?”

“I may not be rich, but I have standards.”

“Oh god, of course, standards. Well, princess, you’ll have to settle for Motel-6 if you don’t want to push too far past $100 a night.”

“I know that,” Charles sniffed. “And stop calling me princess.”

“I’ll stop calling you princess when you stop acting like a princess, princess.”

“Just go get us checked in, will you? For f*ck’s sake.”

Max chuckled and got out of the car to fetch their keycards from the front desk. He handed one to Charles when he returned, and they pulled into a spot near their assigned room. They retrieved their personal bags from the back of the van and with one hand, Max fumbled with his keycard to unlock the room.

When they got inside, Charles took one look at the room and began sputtering dramatically. “Why is there only one bed?!”

“A tale as old as time,” Max said. “We’ll wake up tomorrow in each other’s arms, and then there will be weird tension for the rest of the trip.”

“Max, stop being a dick for one second and explain to me why there is only one bed. Last time I checked, you were the one who booked the room!”

Max threw his hands up. “I don’t know what you want from me, Charles. It’s one night, and a room with one bed is cheaper than a room with two. We’re going to be travelling together for a whole week. I thought you were the one who was hell-bent on saving money.”

“I could spare the extra $20 if it meant not sharing a bed with you.”

“Hey!” Max said indignantly. “For all you know, I could be an amazing sleepmate. Not you. You probably snore.”

“I do not.”

“How do you know?”

Charles dropped his suitcase on the floor at the end of the bed and threw his balled-up blanket into Max’s chest. Max stumbled to catch it. “I’m taking a shower.”

Max shrugged, and dropped the blanket on the bed. “Alright. Have fun in there, princess.”

“Ugh!” Charles wailed, before retreating into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

Max took advantage of the next 15 minutes of peace to make himself comfortable. He claimed his side of the bed — the side closest to the window, of course — and set out some pyjamas for when it was his turn in the shower. He was scrolling through instagram, catching up on Tiffany and Lucy’s latest embarrassing outing — I mean, does it get any gayer than dressing up your tiny dog and taking it on a playdate with the tiny, dressed up dog of your other gay friends — when the shower finally shut off and the door to the bathroom creaked open.

Max was not at all prepared for Charles to emerge with nothing but a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist. His hair, usually a light brown, was now dark and sticking up in damp spikes. Water dripped down his unfairly-toned chest — he did exercise, Max conceded reluctantly — and past his towel. Max looked away as casually as he could. He cleared his throat and prayed to anyone who was listening that his face wasn’t red.

“You going on a clothes strike or something?”

“I forgot to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with me,” Charles said.

“That’s what you get for being in such a rush to get away from me.”

Charles just shrugged, and crouched down to dig through his suitcase. His towel was practically clinging on for dear life. When Charles leaned forward and the towel began to slip just a little bit, Max took that as his cue. He sprung up from the bed, snatched his pyjamas, and practically sprinted to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and turned on the shower to the coldest setting that he could tolerate. Stepping under the spray, Max took a few deep breaths as his body adjusted to the temperature.

“Jesus f*cking Christ,” he muttered, rubbing one hand down his face before he set about getting himself clean.

Here’s the thing. Max hadn’t been laid in like, half a year. At the end of the day he was but a man, and his reaction to seeing someone who was objectively nice to look at, aesthetically, half-naked said nothing about his desires, or him as a person. It made no difference that the person in question was Charles Leclerc.

Max stayed under the spray for longer than was frankly necessary, until his skin was all pruny and he had begun to shiver. He got out and dried off, and got dressed in his pyjamas.

When he reemerged into the room, it was to Charles curled up beneath the covers of the bed, typing on his laptop. He was dressed this time, and his hair had been thoroughly towel-dried, because it was back to its light brown and stuck up in soft tufts. To Max’s surprise, a pair of thick-framed glasses sat on his nose.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Max blurted out, announcing his presence.

Charles glanced up. “You’re out. I was starting to worry you’d drowned in there. I was about to call the front desk.”

“You wouldn’t call an ambulance first?”

“Someone has to unlock the bathroom door,” Charles said. “Besides, I wouldn’t want them to be startled when a bunch of EMTs walk into the lobby.”

“Yeah, but there’s time for that after you call 911. Remind me to never get in a life-or-death situation around you.”

“I would have called 911! After!” Charles said indignantly.

“It’s about priorities, Charles.”

“Whatever,” Charles muttered, turning back to his laptop.

Max shoved his clothes from the day into the side pocket of his suitcase. Digging around for his toothbrush and toothpaste, he said, “You didn’t answer me.”

“About what?”

“The glasses. I didn’t know you wore them.”

Charles blinked, as if suddenly remembering he had glasses on, then went a little cross-eyed trying to look at them. It was sort of endearing. “Oh. Yeah. I’ve had glasses since I was a kid. I mostly just wear contacts during the day now, so the glasses are just for at night.”

“I bet you had those dorky little wire-framed glasses as a kid. The rectangle ones.” Max, back in the bathroom, squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush. He began brushing while waiting for Charles to respond, and when he didn’t, Max stuck his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. To his utter delight, a vicious blush had taken over Charles’ face.

“Wha’, ab I ri’?” Max attempted through a mouthful of toothpaste. He grinned, causing some to drip down his chin.

“No, you’re not actually,” Charles mumbled, looking no less embarrassed.

“Theb wha’? Wha’ kide di’ you we’ah?”

“Spit out your toothpaste. You sound stupid and you’re making a mess of yourself.”

Max obeyed, spitting out his toothpaste and rinsing off his brush. “Answer me, Chuck Leclerc.”

Charles looked down, pulling at a loose thread on the comforter, and mumbled something to his lap.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” Max leaned forward, cupping a hand around his ear and badly attempting to restrain the utter glee in his voice.

“I said,” Charles started, but then trailed off into mumbles again. He kicked at the blankets and covered his face with his hands.

Max giggled. He climbed onto the bed and yanked Charles’ hands from his face. “You’ve got to speak up, baby.”

“Don’t f*cking call me that, you buffoon!” Charles whined, yanking his wrists from Max’s grip. “I had Harry Potter glasses, okay? As in, I was so goddamn obsessed with Harry Potter as a kid that I dragged my mom all around central California to find the closest copy I could find. Okay? I even put f*cking scotch tape around the bridge so they’d be identical to Harry’s. Are you happy now?!”

Max had keeled over on the bed, unable to contain his laughter. His sides were beginning to hurt. After a minute or so, Charles got sick of him and buried a kick right in Max’s ribs. This was apparently enough to sober him up, so he sat up as the final giggles worked their way out. He clutched his bruised ribs and wiped the tears from his face as he said, “Oh god, that’s so good.”

“Alright, alright. We get it.”

“You should consider stand-up, mate, you’re actually hilarious.”

Charles just huffed and turned on his side, facing away from Max. Max took pity on him and carefully shut his laptop where it had been abandoned on the bed. He carefully placed it on top of Charles’ suitcase. After another minute of puttering around the room, he climbed into his side of the bed and switched his light off, sending the room into darkness.

“Get good sleep,” he murmured to Charles, “we have a lot of driving tomorrow.”

Charles merely hummed in response, which was enough for Max, so he finally let his eyes fall shut. Well, he thought, one day down and six more to go. It wasn’t even a terrible first day. Charles had been a decent travel mate so far, and they hadn’t even come close to killing each other yet, so there was that.

He had to remember to call Lando and get him up to speed. Max didn’t feel obligated to call Alex and George, because he knew that Lando would be looping them in before he even hung up with Max. Max felt a slight pang in his chest as he thought of his friends back home. He really was going to miss them.

Despite all the thoughts that were running rampant in Max’s head, the long day quickly caught up to him and before he knew it, he had drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 3: West Wendover, Nevada

Notes:

I made a tumblr @illusoriess if you would like to follow me there :)
Also this is a bit of a longer chapter, idk what happened haha it doesn't even take up a full day

Chapter Text

For the second morning in a row, Max woke up feeling like he had been run over by a steamroller.

He couldn’t immediately remember where he was. He could feel rivers of sweat running down his back — why was he so hot? — and something sharp digging into the sensitive spot between his shoulder blades. Something was wrapped tightly around his legs, and at some point in the night he had moved so close to the edge of the bed that when he went to sit up and his legs refused to follow, he went tumbling off the side of the bed.

“sh*t!” Max groaned. His head and upper torso hit the ground with a thump. At least he was fully awake now, enough to realise that what was constricting his legs and sending him into heatstroke was, in fact, the entirety of the comforter. Somehow it had become completely untucked from the end of the bed and shoved over him. Max thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t suffocated.

When he finally managed to disentangle his legs and stand up, Max finally discovered the perpetrator behind all his discomfort.

Charles Leclerc was spread out like a starfish on the bed, one knobbly elbow where Max’s back had been — so that explained the jabbing pain — and one leg pushing the comforter firmly to Max’s side of the bed. He must run hot at night, because he had also discarded his T-shirt somewhere in the middle of the night.

The cherry on top? The smarmy little git was still snoozing peacefully, a soft smile even gracing his lips. Max wanted to punch him.

Well. At least they hadn’t been cuddling.

Max checked his phone where it was plugged in on the bedside table. 7:00 a.m. He sighed. Well, he might as well enjoy some peace and quiet down at the continental breakfast before Princess woke up.

Max got dressed as quickly and quietly as he could, opting for shorts and a T-shirt given that it was about 90 degrees outside. Living in San Francisco was like living in a strange, little bubble where it was cold and foggy all the time. He had felt the temperature rise about 20 or 30 degrees as soon as they had left the city limits. Out here, Max was able to well and truly experience summer weather.

Max headed down to the lobby. He looked around for the continental breakfast only to find… nothing. There was a little table near the front doors with a basket of Belvita Breakfast Biscuits, but… surely that couldn’t be it.

He made his way over to the front desk. “Excuse me,” he began, “Do you guys serve breakfast here?”

The woman at reception was entirely too chipper for someone being forced to be alive and work at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. “I’m so sorry sir, we do not. We do have some complimentary breakfast biscuits—” she gestured at the basket of Belvita— “and there’s a Starbucks just across the street, as well as a Denny’s down the street.”

“Um— okay. Great, thanks.”

“Sorry again, sir, let me know if there’s anything else we can do to assist you.” The woman smiled, looking politely guilty.

“No, don’t worry about it. Uh… thanks again.” Max smiled awkwardly and gave a little wave before walking out the front door. Apparently he was going to Starbucks for the second morning in a row.

Once inside, he walked to the counter and ordered his usual coffee and a breakfast sandwich before finding a nice little sunlit table near the front windows to take a seat at. Max took a moment to appreciate the view in front of him. It was weird to think that just yesterday he had been in his apartment in San Francisco, and now he was never going to step foot in there again.

The street that their hotel, and consequently this Starbucks, was on was a somewhat sleepy street. Only a few people were out and about, and the early morning set everything in a mellow glow. Despite being fairly close to home, Carson City was one of those cities that Max wouldn’t have spent a moment thinking about if he hadn’t stopped here on a road trip across the U.S. He was strangely thankful for this opportunity to get to know a place that wouldn’t have been on his radar otherwise.

Max decided to take this moment to call Lando.

“Hello?” came his friend’s croaky voice over the phone.

“sh*t, did I wake you up?” Max said. Just then, the barista called his name, and Max got up to fetch his coffee and sandwich. There was a considerable amount of shuffling over the line and Lando didn’t respond until Max had already sat down at his table again.

“Yeah, you— it’s just Max, love, yes I don’t know why he’s up this early either— yeah, you woke me up, you muppet. Check the time, it’s like 5 a.m.”

“You’re the muppet, actually. It’s, like, almost eight. Maybe you should try getting up early for once, it’s actually pretty nice.”

“It’s bloody Saturday, mate. I have to be up at 6 a.m. every other day of the week, so no, I will not be doing that.”

Max took a big bite of his breakfast sandwich, not caring that Lando had to listen to him through half-chewed food. “Well, I was just going to call and update you on how our trip is doing, but I guess I should let you get back to your beauty sleep. Goodbye.”

“No— WAIT. No, please. Tell me how it’s going.” There was some more shuffling, some whispers that sounded suspiciously Spanish in nature, and then Lando’s voice was back. “I’ve put you on speaker, mate. Carlos is here too.”

Max chuckled at the desperation in his friend’s voice. If there was one thing that Lando Norris, and by extension Carlos Sainz, loved more than sleep, it was gossip, and being way too nosy for their own good. Honestly, the two were made for each other. When Lando had texted Max the morning before wishing him luck on his drive, Max had simply texted back, thx i’m gonna need it. i’m now driving charles across the country too.

Max had then received at least 50 texts apiece from the two of them, most of which were in all caps. Lando had even tried to call him about ten times, all of which Max denied. He had texted his friend that he would call and update him as soon as he had a moment, which had seemed to satiate his friend for the time being.

“Where are you?” Lando began to bombard Max with questions. “Is Charles there? Why are you awake so early? Have you guys threatened to kill each other yet?”

“Starbucks, in bed, Charles, and no.”

There was a moment of silence. “Expand on those answers, please. I haven’t had any coffee yet.”

Max snorted. “I’m in a Starbucks across the street from our motel in Carson City. No, Charles is not here, he is still sleeping soundly in our hotel room. He also happens to be the reason why I am awake so early, because he has absolutely no respect for the personal space of others.”

“Are you telling me you guys shared a bed?” Lando interrupted with a squeal. “Just last week you guys were at each other's throats and now you’re sharing a bed?”

“It was cheaper, alright?” Max groaned.

Lando just giggled. “Whatever you say, mate.”

Max rolled his eyes and continued on. “Finally, no, we haven’t threatened to kill each other. Besides the brief moment this morning when I considered it, things have actually been pretty amicable. He’s a bit of a princess, but overall he’s behaving pretty well.”

“Are you behaving pretty well?”

“Of course!” Max said, offended. “I’m always behaving. He’s the one who acts like a child 95% of the time.”

“I would beg to differ,” came the distant voice of Carlos.

“Keep out of it, Sainz,” said Max.

“Well,” Lando interrupted before Carlos could start in on Max, “I’m glad to hear that you guys are getting along well. I bet you’ll hate to hear this, but I really think this trip will be good for you guys. Maybe you’ll finally get over whatever miscommunication happened between you two.”

“Honestly? I hope so.”

Carlos gasped. “Was that a mature answer from Max Verstappen?” There was a muffled thump from the other end of the line, and what sounded like angry whispering from Lando.

“Sorry about him,” Lando said. “I’m proud of you, by the way. I really hope this works out for you.”

“Thanks, man. Really.” Max twisted the sleeve on his cup with his free hand, suddenly feeling sort of vulnerable.

“Well, I’m going back to sleep now, for real. Feel free to call me whenever, and keep me updated, alright? Let me know if you start looking at Charles with murderous intent, and we can workshop some conflict resolution.”

Max chuckled. He loved his best friend so much. “Thanks, mate. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d end up in a ditch, that’s what.”

Max said his goodbyes to Lando and hung up. He went back to enjoying the quiet hum of the coffee shop’s mid-morning rush. He was in a considerably better mood than he had been when he first woke up, and he felt like he could take on anything, even the worst of Charles’ shenanigans.

Speak of the devil, at that moment his phone buzzed with an incoming text.

Charles Leclerc

where r u ;(

Max Verstappen

good morning sleeping beauty

i’m at the starbucks across the street

Charles Leclerc

could u get me a venti dirty chai w two pumps of matcha pls and thx

Max Verstappen

wow no good morning back?

Charles Leclerc

u called me sleeping beauty u don’t deserve one

Max Verstappen

mm i think i do after u almost pushed me off the bed this morning

btw we are not sharing a bed ever again

Charles Leclerc

oopsy daisy ;)

Max rolled his eyes at Charles’ response. He finished up his sandwich, taking the rest of his drink to go, and made his way up to the counter to order Charles’ disgusting drink. Once he received the drink, he exited the Starbucks and made his way back to the hotel.

When he got to the room, Charles had come a long way from starfishing half-naked across the bed. He had neatly remade the bed covers and gotten dressed and ready to go. He was now bouncing around the room, packing up both his and Max’s bags. Max watched, perplexed, from the doorway for a few long moments. Charles finally noticed him and grinned. Of course Charles was a morning person. It must be from the amazing sleep he got, taking up the whole bed and not caring about anyone else.

“I thought I’d pack up your stuff for you, since you put up with me last night and also got me Starbucks,” Charles said.

“Right,” Max said, “um, here it is, by the way.” He raised Charles’ drink in the air before placing it down on the TV stand.

“Thank you, you’re amazing.”

Max cleared his throat, cheeks warm. “No problem.”

Once their bags were packed and Charles had scanned the hotel room three separate times for anything potentially left behind, they went to check out of the hotel. Once they were back in the van, Max in the driver’s seat and Charles once again making himself comfortable in the passenger’s seat, Max spoke.

“Ok, so I’m hoping we’ll be able to get to Salt Lake City by tonight, which should be about seven and a half hours of driving.”

Charles groaned.

“It won’t be so bad if we keep switching off and make stops to stretch our legs. You can start looking into places we can stop for lunch, too, for when we get hungry.”

Charles nodded, immediately pulling up Google and searching through roadside stops like his life depended on it. Max paired his phone to the bluetooth, and once more put on his ‘current favourites’ playlist. Luckily, they didn’t really need Maps anymore since they would pretty much just be following I-80 all day.

The first song that came on was ‘Walk On the Wild Side.’ Max immediately relaxed as the gentle instrumentals began to play. He glanced over at Charles and was pleased to see the content smile on his lips.

“What’s this song called?” Charles asked, and hummed thoughtfully when Max told him.

“Lou Reed,” Charles said, “I’ve never heard of her.”

A surprised laugh ripped its way out of Max, and then he couldn’t stop laughing. He let his forehead fall against the steering wheel as Charles began to sputter indignantly.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Charles said. “What did I say?”

“Lou Reed’s a guy. It’s literally a guy’s voice in the song. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of him.”

“Oh.” A deep blush had taken over Charles’ face. “I don’t really know much about this type of music, I guess. It’s not really what I listen to.”

“That’s okay. What kind of music do you listen to, then?”

Charles pouted, turning his head to look out the window. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just drop it.”

“Are you worried I’m going to make fun of you? I promise I won’t.”

“I don’t know,” Charles mumbled. “Pierre did.”

Max frowned. “Well, that’s not very nice of him.”

Chapter 4: Salt Lake City, Utah

Notes:

sorry for the wait but it was because this chapter is a HEFTY one. as in more than double the average word count kind of hefty
PLEASE please read the warnings in the end notes!! I put them there bc they're a bit spoiler-y but I encourage you to read them if you think you'll need it
finally: I apologise to anyone reading who's not American, this fic is so niche and catered to American audiences lol I hope you still enjoy it regardless!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Charles was already going through the five stages of grief by the time they crossed the border into Utah and arrived at the salt flats. He was still burrowed in his blanket— bright red, Max had just noticed, with the Ferrari logo embroidered in one corner— with only his eyes visible where they were staring out the passenger window, empty. Everything Max tried to say was met with hums and one-word answers. Max wasn’t sure why he was so hung up on trying to cheer up the other man, and why every brief response only made his heart sink in his chest.

Max wasn’t, historically, great with silence. As a kid, when his dad hadn’t been yelling at him or shoving him around for some f*ck up or another, he had been silent. Max remembers long, suffocating drives back from the karting track, his father stoically silent, hands gripping the wheel and eyes glued to the windshield, offering Max nothing more than a few angry grunts here and there. Max remembered pleading tearfully with his father to say something, anything, or even look at him once.

As it was, Max knew that Charles’ silence didn’t have anything to do with him, but it didn’t get rid of the sick feeling that had made itself at home in his stomach.

The feeling nearly evaporated entirely as they approached the salt flats. Mountains far in the distance lined the seemingly endless expanse of white in front of them. Max carefully pulled the van out onto the flats, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Charles sitting up straight, the blanket falling away from his face.

“So, what do you think?” Max asked, a little nervous.

“Wow,” was all Charles had to say. His voice was light, filled with awe. Max nearly glowed at the sound.

“I would do donuts, but I’m not sure I want to risk that with a top-heavy rental van filled with all our earthly possessions,” Max said.

Charles snorted. “That’s fair.”

Max kept driving across the flat, open land, until they were far enough in that it seemed to go on forever in all directions. He parked the van and jumped out. The salt crunched beneath his feet. Max bent over to drag his fingers across the strange, rough surface. It came back covered in little crystals of salt. He felt like he was in a dream.

There was the sound of the passenger door being thrown open behind him, then the crunch of footsteps as Charles came to stand next to him.

“Did you know that when it rains in the winter, the flats become flooded and they become all reflective? Like a mirror of the sky. It’s beautiful.”

Max hummed and looked at Charles. His eyes were locked ahead, smiling softly at something Max was not privy to. “Really?”

“Yeah. The rain also makes it so the flats are hard enough to drive on and walk on in the summertime. Speed week happens here in the summer, and people from all over bring all sorts of racing cars and attempt to set records. I’ve always wanted to go.”

“I wonder when it’s happening this year,” Max murmured. He pulled out his phone and opened the browser app. After a quick google searched, his mouth fell open.

“Charles, you’ll never believe it.”

“What won’t I believe?”

“Speed Week. It starts on August 8. That’ll be about a day after we get to Boston.”

“Well, sh*t.” Charles didn’t sound too upset about it, but Max still felt himself scrambling to improve the situation.

“We can come back next year. Maybe, you know, if we want to go back to California to visit, we could arrange it so that we could stop through here during Speed Week.”

Max half expected Charles to scoff and say something like, ‘sorry mate, but I am never getting in a car with you again unless I have to,’ but instead Charles just smiled softly.

“I’d like that,” Charles murmured. His eyes were still red and a bit swollen from crying, and he looked exhausted, but despite that, his mouth twisted into something mischievous. Without any sort of warning, Charles took off running across the salt flats, cackling when Max let out a surprised shout.

“Where are you going?” Max shouted after Charles’ rapidly shrinking form.

“You’re gonna lose!” was all Charles shouted back.

“Lose what!?” Max yelled, but he was already sprinting after Charles. He didn’t know what it was about the other man that lit the competitive fire in his belly like no one ever had. He wasn’t even sure what they were doing right now, but he knew he couldn’t let Charles beat him.

Charles didn’t respond. He had stopped far in front of Max, and as Max caught up to him, he could see his chest heaving with exertion. As Max slowed to a stop next to him, he noticed the wild, wide-eyed expression on Charles’ face.

“You want to know how I know so much about the flats?” Charles asked Max.

Max blinked at the unexpected question. “Umm, I guess so. How?”

“Pierre told me. We had a mutual friend set us up on a blind date. I usually hate blind dates. They’re awkward and uncomfortable and I always walk away feeling like I wasted my time. This time, though, we somehow got on the topic of motorsport and instantly, I was having some of the best first date conversation I’d ever had. Pierre grew up here, but he has family in France and had always dreamed of racing in Europe as a kid. He was fascinated to hear about my karting stories.”

Charles took a deep breath before continuing. Max desperately wanted to ask more about Charles’ karting experiences— this was the first time he was hearing him mention it explicitly— but he kept quiet and tucked the questions away for later.

“In turn, Pierre told me all about his family. How his dad was a mechanic, and his mom was an engineer. Mechanical— she designed cars. They collected old racing cars on the side, and would take them out to the salt flats every summer. Pierre was even able to drive them a few times. He told me that the best feeling he had ever had was tearing across the flats with no walls or turns to worry about. Just him, the car, and all this open space.”

Max let his eyes drift out over the white in front of them. He tried to imagine flying across this in a car, free and uninhibited. He could practically feel the pure adrenaline, the desert sun burning his nose and the salt caked onto his tires when he finally stepped out of the car. Max suddenly understood Charles’ mad obsession. He looked over at Charles, whose mind looked to be about a thousand miles away. Max imagined that he was probably dreaming of the same thing as Max.

They stood in silence for a while, deep in their fantasies, before Max finally broke the silence.

“I can’t remember the last time I was somewhere this wide open and far away from humanity. You don’t get an opportunity like this every day.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “An opportunity for what?”

Max just grinned, and, without responding, opened his mouth and let out the loudest, most prolonged yell he could manage. His voice echoed across the flats in front of them. He felt Charles startle next to him. When he looked over, the other man was frozen in shock. A few moments passed before Charles finally let out an incredulous laugh.

“What the hell was that?” he said.

Max shrugged, grinning. “Just letting it out. Don’t tell me you’ve never felt the need to just… scream at the top of your lungs, but you couldn’t because you live in a city of people just trying to live their lives in peace.”

Charles shrugged. “I guess.”

“Well, now’s your chance. Just let it out. No one’s around to judge.”

Charles let his eyes fall shut. He took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, then without warning, he let out a scream.

“f*ck Pierre! f*ck the world! f*ck it all!” Charles shouted.

Max cackled with glee. The two of them began screaming obscenities at anyone and anything they could think of. Charles, at one point, shouted “f*ck the barista who told me my coffee order was too girly! I love women and their drink choices!” to which Max responded with “f*ck the squirrel who stole my sandwich in Golden Gate park that one time! I was f*cking hungry!”

By the time they had both gotten everything out of their system, both Max and Charles were doubled over, hands on their knees as they caught their breath. Max’s throat felt like it was torn to shreds; he hoped it wouldn’t be too f*cked when he woke up tomorrow.

“Alright, I’ve seen enough,” Max finally said. “Are you ready to go?”

Charles nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

An hour and a half later, they arrived at the hotel Charles had booked them in Salt Lake City. It wasn’t a Motel-6, but it wasn’t exactly a Ritz-Carlton either. After Charles checked them in and they got to their room, Max wasn’t surprised to find a single queen-sized bed waiting for them. Max didn’t mention it, and by some unspoken agreement, neither did Charles.

Charles threw his bag down at the end of the bed and flopped face down onto the covers. Max just stood in the doorway with an eyebrow raised.

“I know you said you wanted to go out and get drunk,” Charles began, voice tired and muffled from where his face was pressed into the duvet, “but I really need a nap first.”

“Long, hard day, huh? Those two hours of driving must have really taken you out.” Max said, even though he had already kicked off his shoes and placed his bag next to Charles. It was just barely 4 p.m. If they started drinking now, that would just be sad. The bars probably weren’t even open yet.

“You’re such a piece of work,” Charles mumbled. He sounded half asleep already.

Max huffed a laugh. “At least take your shoes off before you fall asleep.”

Charles did not respond, so Max began untying Charles’ sneakers for him and sliding them off his feet. When they were off, he dropped them on the floor with his suitcase. Max carefully slid Charles’ phone out of his grasp and plugged it in on the nightstand.

Once Charles was taken care of, Max set an alarm on his own phone for 7 p.m. so they would have time to grab something to eat before going out. He shucked off his shoes, closed the blinds, and shortly after flopping onto the bed beside Charles, let sleep take him.

Max’s alarm woke them all too soon after.

Max let out a groan, and swung one hand blindly to shut it off. When the ringing finally stopped, he let himself lay there for a few seconds with his eyes shut. He didn’t know why he even bothered with late afternoon naps. They were evil and tricky. They always sounded like the best idea— it would only be a couple hours after all, and he suffered frequently from the late afternoon crash— but then he’d wake up feeling even worse than before, like he had been hit by a truck then left for dead in a desert somewhere.

When he finally cracked his eyes open, Max rolled over to look for Charles. Of course, the bastard was already bright-eyed and on his feet, rummaging through his suitcase.

“Most of my cute going-out outfits are packed away with the rest of my stuff,” Charles said, “because, no offence, but I did not think I was going to be going out and getting drunk with you when I was packing.”

Max shrugged. “Fair. Really, don’t worry about it. Tonight’s about you.”

Charles raised his eyebrow at Max. “Oh, I know. Did you think I was making myself pretty for you?”

“Hey,” Max pouted.

Charles grinned like the Chesire cat. “Would you like for me to get pretty for you?”

“What? No!” Max blushed furiously. “Just— get dressed!”

Charles grabbed a couple items from his suitcase and cackled all the way to the bathroom. After he shut the door, Max heaved a sigh and began to search through his own suitcase for something passable to wear out. That man was going to be the death of him.

Max settled on a plain white tee-shirt and some black skinny jeans. Nothing creative, but he’d be the first to admit that his closet wasn’t exactly adventurous. He wasn’t like Carlos and George, with their carefully cultivated designer clothes that screamed ‘well-to-do,’ or Charles with his eccentric, flashy pieces that he got from who knows where, or even Lando and Alex, with their ridiculous LA streetwear.

After staring in the mirror for a few painstaking minutes, wondering what in the world was taking Charles so long, Max decided to use some product to style his hair away from his face. He hadn’t realised how long it was getting; usually he kept it pretty short, but it was beginning to fall in his eyes and wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Maybe he’d ask Charles what he thought.

Once he was done with his hair, Max ran a hand over his clean-shaven face. He had shaved just that morning so that was one less thing to worry about.

Max wasn’t sure why he was trying so hard. It wasn’t like he had plans to bring someone home. They were only here for the night, and the main goal of the evening was to get Charles sh*tfaced.

Maybe it was the fact that he knew that Charles was going to be dressed to the nines like he always was and Max didn’t want to look like a fool next to him. He might not be as vain as Charles, but he sure was competitive.

Max was proven right when the bathroom door finally swung open again and Charles stepped into the room. When he noticed Max looking, he smiled and did a little spin.

“I thought you didn’t bring any going-out outfits,” Max said.

“I didn’t,” Charles said. “This was the next best thing.”

“You call that the next best thing?”

Max stared incredulously at Charles’ outfit. The other man was wearing the most ridiculous shimmery red button-down top and smooth black slacks that hugged his ass and thighs in a way that was borderline obscene. He had dangly earrings with red stones — Max wasn’t sure he wanted to know if they were real or not — to match his top. “Where else would you have worn that besides going out?”

Charles shrugged. “You never know when you could have an emergency.”

“What would be an emergency that would require this outfit?” Max asked.

Charles gave Max a self-deprecating smirk. “Tonight.”

Max sighed. “Alright. I guess we should find somewhere to go.”

“Already got that covered,” Charles said. “There’s a place a couple blocks away that looks pretty neat. It also says it’s LGBTQ friendly, which I think is pretty important to consider here. I know this is a city, but I’m, like, actually afraid of Mormons.”

Max laughed. “Honestly, same. It sounds good to me.”

“First things first, though. I need some f*cking food in me, or else I’ll start digesting the walls of my stomach.”

“Amen.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like them.”

“Shut the f*ck up, Charles.”

They ended up at a pretty nice place down the street that didn’t have much of a wait. Max figured that if they were already splurging a bit tonight to help Charles forget about his asshole boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend, rather) then why not just go all the way?

Besides, Max wasn’t sure he could stomach a second fast food meal in a row. If he was going to make it all the way to Boston without developing a heart disease, he had to make some financial sacrifices here and there.

They were shown to their table and Charles began scanning the menu. His brows were furrowed and he chewed his lip nervously.

“What’s the matter?” Max asked.

“This place is expensive,” Charles muttered.

Max waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “Look, I know you’re throwing me a pity party, but I can’t just have you pay for everything we do.”

“Charles, I really don’t mind,” Max said. “You can get back to paying for your own stuff tomorrow. Besides, I have a genius plan.”

That did not seem to reassure Charles.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Charles asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say that one more f*cking time—”

“Hello gentlemen, can I get you started with something to drink?” Their waiter took that precise moment to reappear, and Max silently thanked his lucky stars.

“Yes, could we start with a bottle of Merlot for the table?” Max said as he pretended to scan the wine list. “Does that sound alright, darling?”

Charles blinked a couple times, mouth opening and closing like a fish’s. “Umm, Y-Yeah that’s fine with me.”

The waiter smiled. “Lovely. I will be back out with that shortly.”

As soon as the waiter disappeared, Charles kicked Max in the shin underneath the table. Max let out a pathetic ‘ow’ while Charles just glared at him.

“Darling?!” Charles hissed. “What the hell are you playing at?”

Max shrugged, eyes wide and innocent. “I don’t know. You’ll see.”

Their waiter returned, and made a big show of pouring them each a glass while listing off the wine’s year and vineyard of origin, as well as the different notes and flavours present. The waiter then took their food order and Charles sent Max a panicky expression when he ordered the most expensive steak on the menu.

It wasn’t until later, after their food had arrived and they had eaten most of it that Max decided it was the perfect time to execute his plan. He felt in his pocket and when his fingers brushed around a small, velvety box, he leaned forward to whisper in Charles’ ear.

“Just play along,” he murmured.

Max barely gave Charles the chance to let out a hissed, ‘what do you mean, play along’ before he was on one knee in the middle of the restaurant and holding the velvet box in front of him.

Charles’ eyes were the size of saucers. His hands were gripping the arms of his chair like his life depended on it, and he looked like he was fighting an internal battle between asking Max about what the f*ck he was doing and obeying Max’s order to play along. Luckily, his surprise seemed to portray the right message, if the excited gasps from all around them were anything to go by.

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc,” Max began a little gleefully, relishing at the chance to finally put his knowledge of Charles’ full name to use, “The past five years I have known you have been some of the happiest of my life. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, making even happier memories. Would you do the great honour of marrying me?”

It was silent for a few moments as Charles did some more fish-out-of-water impressions, save for the hushed whispers and giggles from around the restaurant.

As the seconds ticked on, Max began to nervously wonder if Charles was going to do something absolutely mortifying like pour his wine down Max’s shirt and storm out. But Max knew the other man’s flair for dramatics all too well and knew he couldn’t resist a performance like this. He breathed a secret sigh of relief when Charles’ face suddenly split into the biggest, goopiest grin.

“Oh my gosh,” Charles gushed, slapping both hands over his mouth. Were those actual tears in his eyes? “Oh my gosh, of course, yes I’ll marry you!”

Max grinned as he plucked the ring from within the box and slid it carefully onto Charles’ finger. Then, like the cherry on top, Charles slid out of his chair so he was kneeling in front of Max. He grabbed Max’s face in his hands and kissed him hard.

When Charles pulled away, Max blinked and tried to forget how soft Charles’ lips felt on his.

The surrounding tables erupted into applause. Max could see a waitress wiping a stray tear out of the corner of his eye. Success.

A few minutes later, when Max and Charles were seated again and everyone had gone back to their meals, the same waitress from before skipped over, holding a slice of chocolate cake.

“The kitchen wanted to congratulate you both by putting the meal on us,” she said, placing the cake down in between them, “and the cake is on me personally. I am just a sucker for romance!”

Charles, still laying it on thick, giggled and pressed a hand to his cheek as if he was shy. Max didn’t think it was physically possible for Charles to be shy.

“Thank you so much,” Charles said. “Really, you didn’t have to do all this.”

The waitress smiled. “Just promise you and your fiancé will come back some time.”

“Oh, of course. Maybe we’ll honeymoon here.”

Max forced a laugh. What was he doing? They can’t build connections under the pretence of being a married couple!

“Well I hope you two have a lovely evening. Get out there and celebrate for me!”

Charles winked. “Oh, we will.”

Max blushed down to his neck. He barely muttered out a “thanks again” before he was tugging Charles out the door. How in the world his own idea had gotten away from him like this, Max had no idea.

Charles was laughing breathlessly as Max dragged him down the street, clearly still high off the adrenaline of his award-winning performance.

“Where the hell did you get that ring?” Charles asked.

Max smirked and shook his head. “It’s my mother’s. She gave it to me a few years ago in hopes that I would find someone to give it to.”

Charles barked out a laugh. “Poor Mrs. Verstappen and her son with no game.”

“Kumpen.”

“Huh?”

“Sophie Kumpen. It’s not Verstappen anymore.”

“Oh.” Charles looked thoughtful for a moment before the sh*t-eating grin returned. “Poor Ms. Kumpen and her son with no game.”

“Shut the hell up, will you? Also, give me my ring back.”

Charles gasped. “Are you un-proposing to me? I thought it was true love!”

Max snatched Charles' hand with a growl. Charles tried to yank his hand back, so Max tucked Charles’ arm under his and held it against his torso as he forced the ring off Charles’ finger.

“When did your feelings change, darling?” Charles wailed dramatically between giggles as he continued to try and free his trapped arm, raining punches down on Max’s back. “My heart is broken!”

People were beginning to stare at them as they stood and wrestled like children in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Alright, Meryl Streep, show’s over. Collect your Oscar and leave.”

“Hmm, no I don’t think I will. This is too fun. What do you think, should I try a career in Hollywood?”

Max cheered as the ring finally came free from Charles’ hand. As he took off down the street, he shouted behind him, “You’re moving to the wrong side of the country for that, sweetheart!”

Max could hear the rapid pounding of footsteps behind him as Charles jogged to catch up. “I don’t know,” Charles shouted breathlessly, “there are plenty of movies that are shot in Massachusetts.”

Before Max could think up a response to that, the neon sign bearing the name of the bar they had scoped out appeared in front of them. Max and Charles both flashed their IDs to the bouncer and were quickly let inside.

Instantly Max was met with the bass of the music, vibrating the floorboards like a heartbeat. The place was full enough already that the atmosphere wasn’t suffering, but not so packed as to be overwhelming. Max smiled. Perfect.

Max tugged Charles up to the bar and opened up a tab. He ordered himself the first co*cktail that didn’t look like pure sugar, then slid the bar menu over to Charles.

“Order whatever you want,” he shouted to him over the music.

Charles scrutinised the menu for a few moments before ordering one of the sugary nightmares Max had been avoiding. After a moment of thought, Max waved down the bartender just as he was about to get their drinks started.

“Could we actually start with a round of green tea shots please?” Max asked. The bartender nodded and moved to grab a shaker.

Charles looked at Max with a curious expression. “What’s that? Sounds healthy and not at all alcoholic.”

Max grinned. “I think you’ll like it. Very sweet, but strong. It’s deceptive; it sneaks up on you like a Long Island iced tea.”

“Does it have green tea in it?”

“Nope.”

Charles laughed. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

When the shots came, Max placed one in front of Charles. “You ready?”

Charles nodded, and together they tipped their shots back at the same time. The sugar hit Max’s tongue instantly, and the whiskey burned only a little going down. Next to him, Charles’ face screwed up a little from the shock of the whiskey, which made Max smile. After a few moments though, Charles’ face changed to one of surprised satisfaction.

“Hmm. Not what I expected,” he said.

Max quirked a brow. “You like it?”

“Yeah, actually. We should get another round,” Charles said, grinning.

“Oh no. I’ve created a monster.”

“Hey!” Charles said. “You were the one who wanted me to get f*cked up tonight.”

And Max couldn’t disagree with that. So when their co*cktails arrived, they sipped on those and chatted for a bit, and when they were done, Max requested another round of green tea shots. He was beginning to feel a pleasant buzz beneath his skin, between their shared bottle of wine at the restaurant and the drinks here. Charles was clearly feeling the same way, if the soft blush on his cheeks was anything to go by.

They took their second round of shots, and that seemed to be enough to encourage Charles out of his seat and before Max could realise where he was going, the other man had disappeared into the throng of people on the dance floor. There were considerably more people at the bar than there had been when Max and Charles had arrived. Max made a note to keep an eye on Charles. He could just barely spy a glimpse of glimmering red somewhere on the floor.

Max would probably have a few more drinks — after all, he deserved to have some fun, too — but his main priority tonight was making sure Charles could let go and drown his sorrows in whatever way he wanted to.

The bartender sidled back up to Max and pushed another glass of the co*cktail he had ordered earlier in front of him. The bartender was a short but sturdy-looking woman with striking pink hair and at least five different facial piercings.

“So, are you and your boyfriend from around here, or are you just passing through?” She asked as Max took a sip of his drink.

Max must have been more drunk than he thought, because he didn’t even address her slip-up. “Just passing through,” he said. “We’re from San Francisco, but we’re moving to Boston.”

The bartender grinned. “That’s a big switch. What’s out there?”

Max shrugged. “Dunno. Just needed a change of pace, I guess.”

“I get that,” The bartender nodded. Max squinted at her nametag; it read SAGE in big, Sharpie letters. “My girlfriend and I are both from Miami originally, but we both just got restless, y’know? So we picked up everything and moved here.”

“Are you glad you did?” Max asked.

Sage nodded. “Definitely. We absolutely love it here, and our relationship has never been stronger.”

“What brought you to Salt Lake, out of everywhere you could go?” Max said. When he realised how rude that sounded, he tried to backtrack. “Not that I think— you know, that it’s bad, or—”

Sage laughed, “I know, I get that a lot. But despite what it looks like, this city has plenty to offer for people like us. Yes, there’s some hostility, but you’ll find that anywhere you go. You just need to know how to find your people.”

Max nodded, and smiled. Just as there was a lull in conversation, something heavy slammed into Max’s side.

“Hey,” came Charles’ voice, “Could I have another drink, please?”

Max glanced up to take in Charles’ appearance. His green eyes were glassy and unfocused, and his entire face was now flushed red. Sweat beaded at his temples, clearly a result of the dancing.

“You look like you’ve had more to drink since I last saw you,” Max said.

Charles hummed in confirmation. “I had a round of tequila shots with my new friends down there.” He pointed clumsily to the other end of the bar where three men in glittery makeup all sat, laughing about something Max couldn’t hear.

Max whistled. “Tequila, huh? Be careful there.”

Sage returned with Charles’ drink. “Take it easy, alright? You don’t want to make your boyfriend carry you all the way home.”

Charles giggled. “That actually sounds nice. Guess I need to get more drunk.”

Max rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond. “If I have to carry you home, I will throw you over my shoulder like a sack of flour.”

“Hot.” Charles winked and downed the rest of his drink. He then slid the empty glass back over to Sage and disappeared again.

Sage chuckled. “You guys are adorable.”

Max said nothing. He downed the rest of his own drink and tried to ignore the warmth of his own cheeks.

Soon, Sage was dragged away as the bar got busier, and Max was left alone. He got a wordless refill from some other bartender named Zach, and watched as the whorls in the wood of the bartop began to spin in front of him.

Max realised quickly that being left to his own thoughts after a few glasses was not a good idea. His mind was overtaken by images of Charles’ green eyes, his alcohol-flushed cheeks, and how earlier he had pressed his lips to Max’s with no hesitation just to preserve Max’s dignity.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around how things between him and Charles had changed so quickly over such a short time. Just a week or two ago Max couldn’t stand being in the same room as Charles for longer than a few minutes, and now they spent every minute of the day together, trapped in a vehicle with nothing but each other for entertainment.

Somewhere along the way their banter had changed from borderline hostile to harmless and playful. Max wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

He waved down Zach and asked for a shot of something. Anything. Zach nodded, and came back with a shot glass of clear liquid. Max didn’t ask, and whatever it was burned on the way down, just like he wanted.

With the room really spinning in earnest now, Max glanced around in hopes of finding Charles. He wasn’t anywhere within eyesight, so Max slid from his barstool. He stumbled for a moment, but upon regaining his balance, he set out to find Charles.

Charles wasn’t anywhere on the dance floor, even after Max had stumbled through what felt like every inch of it. He made his way off the dance floor toward the cluster of tables near the back, and that’s when he spotted a flash of shimmering red.

Charles was talking to a girl who was wearing a corset top and jeans with her blonde hair in pigtails. It was clear to anyone who knew Charles that he wasn’t flirting, but Charles always looked very engaged when he spoke to people, and it was clearly worse when he was drunk. Max could see how some could misread his behaviour as flirtatious, which is clearly what the approaching man who must have been the girl’s boyfriend did.

He was large and beefy, with a bushy beard and a frankly unflattering tank top on. His face was already beet-red with anger, and he was clearly a few drinks in himself. Max watched as he approached Charles and the girl, and shoved Charles away by the shoulder.

Charles stumbled away, big, green eyes filled with confusion.

“Get your filthy hands away from my girl,” said the man.

The girl tugged on his arm, looking embarrassed. “Come on Jeremy, it’s not a big deal. He wasn’t flirting, okay?”

“I don’t want to hear it, Meg.” The man, Jeremy, shoved his girlfriend back. Something red-hot and dangerous ignited in Max. Alarm bells began blaring in his head, but his feet were rooted to the ground.

Max knew the screwed up expression of rage and the balled-up fists all too well. This was not going to end well. He felt nauseous. A crowd had begun to form around them, people whispering nervously to each other, too nervous to step in.

“Hey man, I didn’t mean anything,” Charles squeaked, “we were just talking. I don’t even swing that way, I promise.”

The man surged forward and grabbed the front of Charles’ shirt. The rage in his eyes had switched from rage to sad*stic glee. The man clearly just wanted an outlet, someone to take out all his pent-up anger on, and with a few drinks in his system, Charles seemed to be the one he had set his eyes on.

“Yeah, of course you don’t, huh?” The man laughed meanly and licked his lips. “I mean look at you, you look like a big f*cking—”

The man then said a word, one Max hadn’t heard in years, not since he had cut all ties with Jos Verstappen. That was all it took for Max’s feet to unglue from the ground and for his own red-hot rage to blind him.

The next thing Max knew, he was being dragged backwards by a few bystanders and the man, Jeremy, was on the ground, holding a bleeding nose and a rapidly swelling eye. Max’s own cheek was throbbing, so Jere had clearly gotten in a punch of his own. Max’s knuckles were sore too, and beginning to bleed.

There was commotion as Jeremy tried to get up and was dragged away by a few other bystanders. One of the men holding Max back whispered in his ear, “Hey man, we gotta get you out of here before they kick you out for fighting.”

Max felt sick. The world was still spinning around him, and his head felt like it was filled with cotton. “Charles?” he murmured, the only word he could muster.

“Don’t worry, my buddy’s got him. Just walk with me, alright?”

Somehow they made it outside. Max took a deep breath of the crisp, night air. He was feeling significantly more sober, but his head was still spinning from the adrenaline. His face was really starting to ache now.

“Max!”

Max’s head whipped towards the sound of Charles’ voice. Charles stepped out of the bar and rushed towards him, also looking much more sober. His eyes were wide, and tear streaks ran down his face. Max wasn’t sure if it was because of that guy getting all up in his business, or the chaos that followed that was entirely Max’s fault.

“I’m sorry,” Max whispered. His voice was raspy and thick. He reached a hand up to his eyes and found that they were filled with tears, too.

“Don’t— please don’t apologise. Are you okay?”

Max shook his head. As he came down from the adrenaline, it felt like all the energy was being sapped from his body at once. He just wanted to lie down on this sidewalk and stay there until the morning. “Head hurts.”

Charles sniffled, and held Max’s face in his hands. He ran a thumb over Max’s cheek where he had been punched, making Max hiss in pain. Charles’ face screwed up, and when he drew his hands back, his thumb had a stripe of blood on it.

“There’s a CVS down the street, okay? Let’s walk there and get some stuff to patch you up, then we’ll walk back to the hotel. Are you okay with walking?”

Max nodded, which felt like a thousand ice picks to the inside of his skull. He really hoped he didn’t have a concussion or anything. “I’m not drunk anymore.”

The two of them made their way, slow but steady, to the CVS. The silence between them was heavy with words unspoken as Charles scoured the aisles for what he needed. He filled a basket with some cotton balls, a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a package of Spongebob-patterned Band-aids. He also grabbed a couple of those ice packs that activate when you shake them. They went up front and paid, choosing to ignore the curious looks from the 16-year-old girl behind the register, and then began their two-block walk of shame back to the hotel.

Once they were back inside the hotel room, Charles shoved Max so he was sitting on the end of the bed. He rushed into the bathroom and returned with a damp washcloth and a cotton ball covered in hydrogen peroxide.

Charles gently held Max’s chin with one hand to tilt his head up, and dabbed the cut on his face clean with the other. Max hissed a little when he applied the hydrogen peroxide.

“I’m sorry,” Charles whispered, looking a little guilty. Max just shook his head, carefully enough as to not dislodge Charles’ hand from his chin while he adhered a Spongebob bandage to his cheek.

“Don’t. I should be thanking you for cleaning me up. And putting up with me.”

Max’s chest felt like it was filled with acid. The minute he had let his emotions get the better of him, he became just as bad as that Jeremy asshole. He became just as bad as his dad.

At the end of the day, he’d never be better than what his f*cking dad made him.

Max didn’t realise he had begun to cry until Charles’ eyes widened, and he swiped an anxious thumb under his eye. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to help but I made things worse instead.”

“No, you didn’t,” Charles said, “You stood up for me.”

Max shook his head. “I could have just gone to get someone. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so angry.”

Charles frowned. “Believe me, I was too. But nothing like that has ever happened to me. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry,” Max mumbled for the millionth time, “Tonight was supposed to be about making you feel better but I ruined it.”

“You did not ruin it, he did.”

“I told myself I wouldn’t become like him. That I’d bear my anger better.”

“Like who?”

“My dad.”

Something in Charles’ eyes seemed to crack. Max wasn’t sure what it was, or why, but next thing he knew, Charles’ hands were fully cradling his face, thumbs running soothingly up and down his cheekbones. They would probably wake up tomorrow and never talk about this again, so for now, Max melted into the gentle touch that felt so foreign to him.

“I’m sorry that he made you feel that way. You don’t deserve that,” Charles said.

“It’s true, though.”

Charles shook his head resolutely. “No, it’s not. Just the fact that you stood up to that man, that bully, proves that it’s not.”

Max sniffed and didn’t say anything. His chest felt a little less like it was filled with acid, though, so he smiled up at Charles, small and fragile and thankful.

Charles smiled back, and moved to prepare one of the ice packs. He placed it against Max’s sore cheek, moving Max’s uninjured hand to hold it in place before getting to work on the knuckles Max had thrown the punch with.

They sat in silence while Charles finished up. This time, though, the silence wasn’t heavy or stifling. It was filled with understanding and acceptance, and a little bit of weariness.

When they finally burrowed under the covers and whispered good night to each other, Max ignored the throbbing of his temples and the bruise forming on his cheek, and let the exhaustion of the day carry him to sleep.

Notes:

why do I keep ending the chapters on sad notes haha I promise it starts to look up
TWs: hom*ophobic/generally violent behavior, implied use of the f-slur, alcohol use, descriptions of blood/injuries (rlly not that intense but I thought I'd mention it), lots of swearing lol

Chapter 5: Yellowstone Natl. Park, Wyoming

Notes:

So sorry about the long wait! I've started a new semester at university and it's been really chaotic. I'm working on my thesis and I've had barely any time to write. Thanks for everyone who has been waiting patiently! Hopefully I'll have more time from now on.
I thought I'd reward your patience with a Charles pov chapter :) hope you enjoy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Charles barely slept that night.

He kept tossing and turning, replaying those tense few minutes in the bar like a skipping record. The warm floatiness of the alcohol making his conversation with a girl he’d never met before ten times more interesting. The mortification when her boyfriend began making a scene, and the few seconds of fear when he had gotten in Charles’ face. The strange mix of gratitude and then more fear and then guilt when Max had stepped up to defend him and had then gotten decked in the face.

Charles chewed on the inside of his cheek and checked the bedside clock. 4:15 a.m. He turned his head towards Max, taking in the bruise forming on his cheek, and the way his brows furrowed in his sleep. Charles wondered if he was dreaming, if he could feel the pain of his cheek even while he was asleep. A wave of guilt washed over him.

After a few minutes of watching Max’s even breaths as he slept, Charles sighed and got out of bed. Well, if he wasn’t going to be sleeping, he might as well make himself useful. He shoved his feet haphazardly into his ratty vans, not bothering with socks. He threw on the nearest hoodie he could find— Charles had learned the hard way that it got chilly at night in the desert— and it just happened to be one of Max’s hoodies.

If the lingering smell of the man just so happened to put Charles at ease a little, then that was no one’s business.

He shoved his phone and wallet in his pocket, grabbing one of the room keycards before slipping out the door as quietly as he could.

Charles spent a few minutes wandering around the hotel hallways, exploring. He eventually found himself in the hotel lobby, which was dimly lit and staffed by one tired-looking teenager.

He took notice of the small hotel store, which was still lit up. Charles asked the receptionist if it was still open. When he received a nod in response, he wandered inside.

The little store had the usual items; OTC medications, candy, a freezer with ice cream and microwave meals. Charles grabbed a small package of ibuprofen, a bag of Sour Patch Kids, and a couple Red Bulls. He wasn’t usually a Red Bull person, or a caffeine person in general— that was more Max’s thing— but judging by how little sleep he was going to be running on, he was going to need it tomorrow. Max would need one probably, because he had a rough morning every morning.

Charles quickly paid the receptionist and returned to their room. He slid the Red Bulls into the mini fridge and the Sour Patch Kids into his luggage. He placed the pills on Max’s bedside table, before finally kicking off his shoes and pulling back the covers to get back in bed.

Sometime while Charles was gone, Max had moved into the middle of his bed. His arm was thrown across the spot Charles had previously occupied. His brows furrowed even further, and his lips twitched like he was mumbling something in his sleep. Charles huffed a laugh. He looked like a grumpy old man.

Charles carefully nudged his arm out of the way and slid back into bed, his back to Max. He set an alarm for 8 a.m. before plugging his phone in and placing it on the bedside table. As much as it pained him to willingly subject himself to less than four hours of sleep, he knew that Max liked to get an early start on the driving and he had most likely forgotten to set his own.

He spent a few minutes just staring into the darkness. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Max wrapped his arm around Charles’ waist, pulling him into his chest.

Charles laid frozen in shock for a few seconds as Max settled back down again. Charles didn’t think he even woke up at all, and found it was surprisingly easy to relax into Max’s hold. It was like being wrapped in a thick, heated blanket. Charles took a chance and placed his hand on the back of Max’s, guiding it up to his chest.

Charles felt warm and safe, better than he had all the previous day. And it had been a long, chaotic f*cking day.

After taking a few deep breaths, Charles found his eyes finally becoming heavy. He welcomed sleep at last with open arms.

When Charles woke up to the alarm, Max was already awake.

He was sitting upright with his back against the headboard, one of the ice packs pressed against his cheek. When Charles turned to face him, Max gave him a pained, half smile.

Notes:

follow me on tumblr if you'd like, I'll try and post updates there! @illusoriess

Chapter 6: Douglas, Wyoming

Notes:

and here we are, back to max's pov! enjoy <3
CW!!! descriptions of recreational marijuana use and its effects in the beginning - if this is something that makes you uncomfortable, skip to the first section break, followed by the sentence starting with, "When Max awoke the next morning..."
idk if this will be a problem for anyone but i wanted to be cautious!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Charles had been acting strangely since they got to their campsite.

Max watched him from across the campfire, his leg bouncing. Charles seemed fine whenever Daniel or Yuki pulled him into a conversation, laughing along at the mortifying tales about Max that Daniel was dredging up and nodding along animatedly when Yuki began telling some outlandish tale from his kitchen in Texas, but the minute the attention was off him, he would sort of wilt and go off into his own world.

Max had scanned over everything he’d said to Charles since noon and couldn’t recall anything that might have upset him.

Maybe it was something Daniel had said. Max hoped not. He had pulled Charles aside briefly to ask him about it earlier, and Charles had brushed him off, saying Daniel had only wanted to get to know him.

Daniel was currently in the midst of telling a story about some drag brunch gone wrong that he and Yuki had gone to. The two of them were off in their own little world, leaning against each other and barely getting a sentence out before dissolving into giggles. They were both at least a few beers in and it was clear.

Max had polished off a couple of his own, but he had always prided himself on his remarkably high alcohol tolerance so he was mostly unaffected. Charles was still nursing his first beer, which did not surprise Max. Charles had always been more of a fruity co*cktail kind of person. Max had tasted a rum bucket Charles had ordered once when their friend group went out together and the pure sugar had almost made Max sick on the spot.

Max scooted his fold-up camping chair closer to Charles’ as discreetly as he could. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been seeming kinda off.”

Charles nodded and shrugged one shoulder dismissively. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. A bit tense. All this time in the van, you know—”

“Yeah, I get it. And it’s been a stressful couple days for you, too, with everything that’s happened.”

Daniel had apparently been eavesdropping, because he chose that moment to pipe up. “Hey, if you need to relax, I have a couple pre-rolls we could share.”

“Pre-what?” Charles asked, confused.

“Oh, umm— pre-rolled joints. Like weed,” Max said.

“You’ve never smoked before, Charles?” Daniel asked.

“He had an edible once a while back and had a bad trip, so he hasn’t really tried anything beyond that since,” Max said.

That was a total lie. Max had no idea where it came from, but it wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense if Charles had never so much as tried weed, especially since they were supposed to be dating. Daniel knew how much of a stoner Max was— they had spent almost every weekend in high school high out of their minds.

When Charles shot him a bewildered look, Max sort of widened his eyes at him, silently begging him to go along with it. Charles seemed to understand, because he nodded, and said, “Yeah. I mean, I’d be willing to try it again, for sure. It might be nice.”

Daniel whistled. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t have gone with an edible for my first time getting high. Joints are much more pleasant in my opinion. You ever smoked a cigarette?”

Charles nodded again. “Yeah, my ex liked to smoke them sometimes, so I’ve tried a few.”

“Good, then you have experience with smoke. I’ll get one started for us.”

Daniel got up to dig around his and Yuki’s tent, and returned with a couple joints and a lighter. After a few attempts he got it lit up, and took a few heavy drags. He passed the joint to Yuki, and Yuki did the same.

The joint finally got to Max, and he took a few heavy inhales. The smoke was warm in his throat, and even the familiar sensation and the weight of the joint in his hands would have been enough to relax him. The weed hit pretty quickly, and Max smiled as his whole body began to feel warm. It had been a while since he smoked, and he hadn’t realised how much he had needed it. Max hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders had become from full days of driving until they began to unwind.

He turned to pass the joint to Charles. The other man took the joint hesitantly, holding it awkwardly between two fingers. He stared at it for a couple moments, his brows furrowed.

Max leaned in so only Charles could hear. “Hey you don’t have to do this, yeah?”

Charles nodded his head rapidly. “Yeah, I know. I want to, it’s just—”

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s not that complicated. Just take a small drag in, see how you feel. Once you’ve had enough, pass it back to Daniel.”

Charles took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and brought the joint to his lips. Max couldn’t take his eyes off the way they wrapped carefully around the end, and the rise of his chest as he inhaled. He brought the joint away and a moment later, he opened his eyes and angled his head back to blow the smoke into the night sky. The whole thing was hypnotising.

Charles ended up taking a couple more drags. Maybe it was just the weed, but Max was entranced as Charles became more and more relaxed. When Charles finally passed the joint back to Daniel, Max was broken from the spell.

“Hey, that was great,” Max said dumbly, “You didn’t even cough or anything. How do you feel?”

Charles turned to him and smiled, soft and warm. His eyes had become slightly hooded and sleepy. “It was great. I feel really nice.”

The joint went around the circle again, until it was finally finished off. Max was feeling pleasantly buzzed, but Charles was nearly slumped over in his chair.

Daniel held up the second, unsmoked joint. “Yuki and I are gonna start this one. You guys interested?”

Max shook his head. “Nah, you guys enjoy it. I think he’s done—” Max jutted his thumb at Charles just as he let out a quiet giggle— “and I’m just gonna watch over him.”

Daniel smiled at that. It was proud and fond to the point of almost being patronising. “Look at you Maxie Max. Being all responsible and sh*t.”

Max rolled his eyes and said nothing. He carefully nudged Charles, who hummed in response but did not lift his head. Max sighed, and slid one hand onto Charles’ cheek. He tilted Charles’ head so they were making eye contact.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Max asked.

Charles hummed again, and closed his eyes. “Really, really good.”

Max snorted. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“How do you feel about stargazing? The sky is super clear out here— no light pollution. You can see the whole Milky Way.”

Charles smiled and nodded, moving Max’s hand with the motion. “That does sound nice.”

“Here.” Max let go of Charles' face and stood up, ignoring the way the world spun just a little. He offered his hand for Charles to grab, who took it and stood up on shaky legs. By the way Charles’ eyes widened and he blinked rapidly, the shift from sitting to standing was clearly a lot for him too.

Max led Charles away from the circle a little bit, over to a hidden outcrop of flat rock on the edge of their campsite. Max carefully dislodged Charles’ Ferrari blanket from his arms, which had been draped over Charles’ lap at the campfire, and laid it out across the ground.

Once they had both gotten comfortable on the ground, Max turned on his side to face Charles. The other man was flat on his back, staring up at the sky. The stars were already an incredible sight, but Max imagined that it was almost otherworldly of a sight when your senses were altered.

Max watched intently as Charles' mouth fell open in wonder. His face was dimly lit by the sheer brilliance of the uninhibited starlight. When Max looked into Charles’ eyes, big and shining as they were, the stars were reflected perfectly in them.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. Moreso, perhaps, than the sky itself.

Max sighed. He f*cking liked Charles Leclerc, didn’t he?

Maybe this earth-shattering realisation would have felt more, well, earth-shattering, if Max hadn’t been high. As it was, he couldn’t muster any semblance of panic or self-pity when all he could think was, of course.

How could he have ever looked at this man, with the contagious smile and eyes filled with stars, with the eternal patience and biting wit, and been convinced that he hated him?

The realisation felt strangely natural, as if it was the next step that had always been coming, hurtling closer and closer with every playful spat and slightly longer-than-normal dose of eye contact. Max wanted to be mad, embarrassed that he lacked any sort of willpower, that his pride and stubbornness was all of sudden failing him. But he just— couldn’t.

There’d be enough time for overthinking it tomorrow. Right now, though, Max wanted to enjoy the view just a little bit longer.

After a while of Charles watching the stars and Max watching Charles, Charles began to drift off to sleep. When Max attempted to wake him up so they could go back to their tent, Charles was thoroughly unhelpful, so Max was forced to scoop up the other man in his arms. Charles accepted this with almost no protest, letting his head fall against Max’s chest.

It was a little more difficult, manoeuvring Charles into his sleeping bag. Luckily, the other man remained seemingly unbothered by the whole ordeal, happy to watch with a sleepy smile as Max shoved all his uncooperative limbs into the sleeping bag and zipped it shut.

Once Max was done with Charles, he climbed into his own sleeping bag. Charles' eyes were shut again, and Max assumed he had fallen back asleep. He was startled, then, when Charles spoke up.

“Thank you,” Charles mumbled, voice muffled by the material of his sleeping bag. Only his eyes were visible to Max, and they were still shut.

“For what?” Max asked.

“For helping me. And being so nice to me.”

Max snorted. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

Charles shrugged then, in dismissal. “Good night, Max.”

“Good night, Charles.”

When Max awoke the next morning, he briefly wondered why he ever bothered getting drunk. Getting high was so much nicer, and the next morning he didn’t wish death upon himself.

As it was, Max felt more well-rested than he had all week. His eyes felt pleasantly droopy, the way they did when waking up after a long, heavy sleep. The light was still dim, so it must have been still early in the morning. Everything was silent, save for birds singing and the wind rustling the leaves outside.

Max felt around next to him, only to find Charles’ sleeping bag empty and cold. Quickly, all the good humour left Max. The panic that he hadn’t been able to summon the night before filled his veins in a heartbeat.

Memories from the night before rushed into his mind. Stargazing, realisations of feelings, weirdly intimate behaviour.

Max groaned and rubbed his eyes. He strained his ears for any signs that Charles was outside, somewhere nearby. He had to consciously tell his brain to shut the f*ck up when it began creating scenarios— ones where Charles, having woken up feeling weird about everything, stole the keys to the van and took off without Max.

Realistically, that didn’t make sense. Charles didn’t have anything to feel weird about, right? It wasn’t like Max had said anything about his feelings.

Oh god, that was a whole other monster he did not want to confront yet.

His spiralling was cut short by the sound of the tent flap unzipping. Charles’ head poked into the tent. He smiled at the sight of Max awake.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Charles whispered.

“Hey there,” Max smiled, stretching his arms above his head, “what are you up to?”

“Come out here and see for yourself!” With that, Charles’ head disappeared and the tent was zipped closed.

Relief replaced all the panic in Max’s veins. He didn’t even give himself time to feel silly about it; he shimmied out of his sleeping bag, yanked his shoes on, and slipped out of the tent.

His mouth dropped open at the sight that met him. The sun had been almost all the way set when they had arrived at their site the day before, and all the remaining light had gone towards setting up the campsite.

Now, the air was crisp and cool with the morning dew. The sun had just emerged over the horizon, illuminating everything in a sleepy pink glow.

Wilderness spread out before them: a massive, crystal clear lake just beyond the outcrop of rocks they had been stargazing on the night before, bordered on the far edge by massive mountains and tall, evergreen trees. Way in the distance, Max could see a herd of bison grazing in the long grasses.

Charles was perched in his camp chair over by the now-defunct fire pit, sipping on a cup of coffee from the French Press that must have come from one of their packs. He looked extremely proud of himself, as if he had assembled the view himself.

“Coffee?” he called to Max.

Max nodded, and set up his camp chair next to Charles’. Charles prepared him a cup of coffee and they sat in peaceful silence for a while, sipping on their coffee and admiring the view. Max took in Charles, feet crossed beneath him and his lap draped in his blanket. His hands were wrapped carefully around his mug and steam curled around his face. Charles’ hair was still in a state of bedhead, and he seemed far more relaxed and content than last night. Max thanked his lucky stars that last night had managed to shake whatever was troubling Charles. Something about seeing the other man’s pretty features contorted with discomfort had made Max restless.

“It’s really too bad that we aren’t able to stay longer,” Charles said, breaking the silence. “This is… I mean—”

“Stunning? Breath-taking?”

“Yeah.”

Max nodded. “We’ll have to come back.”

Charles fidgeted. “We?”

“Yeah,” Max shrugged, “I mean, unless you don’t want to.”

“I do! Definitely. Just—”

“Hey, after everything we’ve been together, I assumed we could at least call each other friends.” Max tried to play it cool as he spoke, maybe even play at being mock-offended. Really, though, he was losing his mind. “It pains me to say this, but I do like spending time with you.”

To his surprise, Charles smiled, wide and relieved. “That’s good. I like spending time with you, too.”

There was stifling silence for a few seconds, until somewhere far in the distance, an elk bugled, loud and dramatic. The eerie sound echoed around the valley and across the lake. Max and Charles made eye contact until Charles had to press his lips together to keep a straight face, and then they both broke out into peels of laughter.

“Who knows when Daniel and Yuki are gonna be up,” Max said, “do you want to start on breakfast?”

Charles nodded, and they began setting up the camp stove. Max hooked up the propane while Charles assembled ingredients from Daniel and Yuki’s massive cooler. They worked side by side, cooking bacon, eggs, and potatoes. They had returned to their companionable silence, communicating without words as they worked side by side.

It was really… pleasant. Strangely domestic. But not a bad strange. In fact, Max found himself enjoying it way more than he probably ought to have. Watching the way Charles’ brows furrowed with focus as he attempted to perfectly crack an egg over the iron skillet without breaking the yolk. When he nudged Charles’ arm, Charles automatically knew to hand him the tongs so he could flip the bacon, and it sent a jolt of giddy joy through him.

They were soon joined by a groggy Daniel, and Max tried not to be bitter about the moment being broken.

“Where’s Yuki?” Max asked.

“Still sleeping,” Daniel replied, plopping into his camp chair. “Smells good.”

“Hopefully it tastes good too,” Charles said, placing the first plate of breakfast on Daniel’s lap.

They were joined shortly after by Yuki, and soon they were all seated in their chairs, eating. Once they were finished, Daniel and Yuki cleaned up the dishes and cooking supplies while Max and Charles packed up their things and took down their tent.

When they couldn’t delay any longer, Max and Charles finally said their goodbyes to Yuki and Daniel.

Daniel pulled Max into a suffocating hug. When he let go, he gripped Max by the shoulders. “Promise me you’ll keep in touch.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Not like before.”

“Not like before. Promise.”

Daniel smiled. “I know. I’m proud of you, by the way. You’ve really come far.”

Max turned a little red at the motherly tone. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And Charles… he’s a good kid. You’re good for each other, I can tell. Keep him around, yeah?”

Max swallowed, and it felt a little like there was a rock lodged in his throat. “Of course.”

“Alright.” Daniel gave him a rough pat on the shoulder before letting go. “Safe travels.”

“Safe travels.”

Charles took the first shift driving. It was a nice, sunny day, and they were both feeling pleasantly reinvigorated after some fresh air and a good night’s sleep, so they planned on pushing as far as they could. The aim was to get to Cheyenne by evening as long as they made good time.

The drive was long and uneventful, so they turned to talking to keep each other focused. It seemed that their walls were finally down, so they talked non-stop about anything and everything.

Max told Charles all about his mom and little sister Victoria who lived back in Oakland. He avoided any mention of his dad, but luckily Charles didn’t push it. He talked about Victoria having her baby, and how meeting his baby nephew for the first time made him realise he did want kids, despite his fears that he would be a bad father.

Max opened up about high school, how he had to adjust to high school across the world and in a different language than his own, all the while struggling through puberty and the tail end of his parents’ divorce. He talked about all the anger with nowhere to go, and his awkward first relationship with Daniel where they were both just figuring out their identities.

It turned out that Charles’ story wasn’t all too different from his. He was born and grew up in Monaco, but moved to the U.S as a teenager when his father died and his mother couldn’t handle all the memories tied to their home country. It was such a small country, made up of only a small city; there was no escaping anything or anyone.

They had just passed Casper, Wyoming when Max looked out the passenger window and noticed the sky darkening ominously above.

They were only four hours into the drive; Charles had just started his second shift driving. When he noticed Max staring out the window at the sky, his eyes followed.

“Eyes on the road,” Max said.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” Charles asked, biting his lip. “I hate driving in the rain.”

“If it does, we can pull over and switch.”

“I don’t want to make you do that.”

Max shrugged. “I’m a lot more comfortable behind the wheel. It’s no big deal.”

Sure enough, not even twenty minutes later the sky opened up and in seconds, they were submerged in a monumental deluge.

“sh*t. f*ck.” Charles pulled to the side of the road as carefully as he could, and put the van in park. Just as he did, the rain began coming down even harder.

Visibility was almost nothing now, torrents of rain now sweeping down the windshield. Rain drops smacked against the roof of the van. Charles tried running the windshield wipers to see if it would help, but it barely made any difference.

“Well, not even I’m willing to drive in that,” Max said. “You okay with waiting until it lets up a bit?”

Charles nodded, lost in thought. “It’s not a tornado, right?”

Max shook his head. “Nah, we would’ve gotten an alert on our phones. Besides, I don’t think Wyoming gets them as much. I think it’s too mountainous.”

“Really?”

Max looked over at Charles. The other man had pulled his knees to his chest and he had moved on from chewing his lip to chewing on his fingernails. Max, suddenly struck with the urge to protect, reached over and carefully pulled Charles’ hand away from his mouth. He guided it down to the centre console and laced their fingers together, running his thumb along the back of Charles’ hand.

“Hey, I promise. If there was a tornado, we’d know it was coming way before it got here.”

“How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”

“As soon as it lets up enough for us to see the road, I’ll drive us to the nearest hotel and we’ll stop for the night, okay?”

At last, Charles seemed satiated. He chewed on his lip for another moment before turning in his seat to face Max.

“Did you know I did karting? As a kid?” He said, out of the blue.

Max blinked. “No.”

Charles smiled. “Yeah. Didn’t really race outside of France before I stopped.”

“That’s probably why I never really ran into you.”

“What?”

Max smiled. “I only really raced in the Netherlands and Belgium. Austria, a couple of times. Then I moved out here.”

“No way,” Charles gushed. “You karted too? To think— even if we both never left Europe, we probably would’ve ended up knowing each other anyway.”

“I guess it was meant to be.”

Charles blushed. “We could’ve made it to Formula 1 together.”

“In another life, perhaps.”

“Why did you stop karting then?”

Max shrugged dismissively. He hated talking about this— why he quit karting, why his family had to move to the States. Why his parents got divorced. It was all just— f*cking embarrassing. And he knew none of it was his fault; his mom had made that very clear. But— still.

“It’s complicated,” is what he finally settled on. Charles seemed to know not to push it, because he simply nodded and moved on.

Max didn’t return the question, because he knew better than anyone that the answer to the question, ‘Why did you quit your dream?’ didn’t often have an easy answer. But Charles decided to offer it himself.

“I come from somewhat of a racing legacy,” Charles began, “which I suppose is sort of inevitable, being from Monaco. My dad, as you know, raced in F2 and F3.”

That was right. Max recalled the party where they had met, and the broken trophy that had kickstarted this all. He had mentioned his father had raced.

“Well, he was on track to win the F2 championship and move on to Formula 1. That was until a freak accident in one of his F2 races took his life.”

Max swallowed, suddenly overcome by guilt. “That trophy I broke— was that his?”

Charles nodded hesitantly. “It’s alright, though. I mean— I was way too attached to that thing, in a way that probably wasn’t healthy. I was able to fix it easily, but I just— couldn’t let it go, you know? I feel sh*tty thinking about it. I was way too hard on you”

“Don’t think that,” Max rushed out. “You had every right to feel that way. Grief’s a weird thing, you know? I definitely didn’t react maturely to breaking it; I felt bad as soon as I said it. I was just too much of a prideful asshole to say anything.”

Charles snorted. “Aren’t we the perfect match? Prideful, f*cked up assholes, the both of us.”

“Yeah.” A moment of silence. “You never finished. Saying why you quit.”

“Oh, right.” Charles rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, my older brother Lorenzo had this friend, Jules.”

Max’s eyes widened. “Jules Bianchi?!”

“Yup, that’s the one. You probably know then, what happened to him. He joined Formula 1, and then just a few years after my father’s death, he crashed too. Same track, same turn, same conditions. It was eerie.”

“f*ck.”

“Yeah. Well, you don’t have to be superstitious or spiritual to be unnerved by that. My mom certainly was. She pulled Arthur and I out of karting immediately after that, and for good measure, moved us halfway across the world.”

“That’s really—”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence once again as Max processed that. The only sound filling the van was the rain beating relentlessly on the roof.

Perhaps he and Charles were far more similar than he ever could have guessed.

After maybe ten more minutes, the rain finally all but let up. The road was finally visible again.

“Hurry, hurry! Switch places with me!” Max shimmied across the centre console, shoving Charles toward the passenger seat. He revved the van back to life, putting it in drive and pulling back onto the road.

After another ten minutes of driving, they came across a little town called Douglas. It was not nearly as far as they had hoped, but the rain was already beginning to come down in earnest again, and as much as he had come to appreciate Charles’ presence, Max did not want to risk being stranded along the side of the road any longer.

Douglas would have to do.

Notes:

Follow me on tumblr! @illusoriess for updates and other bits and bobs :)

Chapter 7: Kearney, Nebraska

Notes:

apologies for such a long wait!! this has been the busiest, most chaotic semester ever and i've barely had a chance to just sit down and write for fun. as a reward for your patience, here is a nice long chapter with some cutesy fluff <3
cw: here is where the mature rating comes into play, bc there is a spicy scene at the end of this chapter!! be warned lol
bonus notes: chapter count has been updated!! unless something unexpected happens, this is pretty set in stone. also, i plan to begin writing the sequel as soon as this fic is done as essentially a direct continuation of this fic.
ALSO shout out to the person in the comments of the last chapter who inspired me to plop these idiots into the Wyoming State Fair, this is for u <3 I deeply apologise if I got any details wrong as I have never been there lmao

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The first thing Max saw when he woke up was Charles, already fully dressed and ready, curled up in the hotel room’s armchair and scrolling intently through the contents of his phone.

“Good morning,” Max mumbled, voice thick with sleep, “What are you looking at?”

Charles was so deeply focused that he jumped when Max spoke. Upon the realisation that Max was awake, however, a huge grin spread across his face. Max tried to pretend like it didn’t make something in his chest flutter a little bit.

“You’re up, finally!” Charles scooted off the armchair and leapt onto the bed, landing mere inches from Max’s face. He settled against the headboard. “I was about to wake you myself.”

“Why’s that? It’s only—” Max checked his phone— “Seven o’clock.”

Charles smiled and ruffled Max’s hair. Max blinked and tried to school his expression into something neutral and casual. Ever since their conversation the day before, Charles seemed to have well and truly let his guard down and accepted Max as a friend. With that came the physical touch.

Here’s the thing— Max knew that Charles was very touchy and affectionate with friends, people that he trusted and felt close to. Max had seen him with Lando and Alex and George— even Pierre, as much as it pained Max to admit. He would link arms, lean on them when he laughed, hug them in greeting. He knew it didn’t mean anything more, but his heart seemingly wasn’t getting the message, because it was currently attempting to beat out of his chest.

Max would just have to get used to it. He was weirdly flattered, in any case, that Charles finally trusted him enough to be physically affectionate.

Charles thrusted his phone in front of Max’s face, jolting him from his thoughts. On his screen was a webpage displaying some sort of event schedule. “We’re right down the road from the Wyoming State Fair.”

Max hummed and closed his eyes, turning his face into the pillow. He tried not to think about how his face was an inch from Charles’ thigh. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Charles said. He cleared his throat like he was about to begin a business pitch. “Look, it’s a six hour drive to where we want to stay tonight. If we leave now, we’ll get there early and have a ton of time to loiter about and waste time. Wouldn’t you rather do the loitering now, at the state fair?”

Max smiled into the pillow. “Very convincing offer, Mr. Leclerc. My associates and I will get back to you on that.”

Charles groaned and grabbed Max’s chin, pulling his face out of the pillow to face him again. “Please, Max? I want a caramel apple. I want to ride the Ferris Wheel. It’s been so long since I’ve been to a carnival. Please please please please—”

“Caramel apples give you cavities.”

“Please please please—”

Max slapped a hand over Charles' mouth. “Okay, okay, fine. Your wish is my command, princess.”

Charles narrowed his eyes and promptly licked Max’s hand.

Max withdrew his hand, letting out an undignified squeal. “This is the thanks I get? I said yes!”

Charles gave him the brattiest grin Max had ever seen. “Thank you,” he said, in a mocking, sing-song voice.

Max just sighed and rolled out of bed to get ready. He dressed quickly, and threw together the contents of his bag as Charles watched impatiently, because of course he had already packed before Max had even woken up.

After a quick stop at the hotel’s continental breakfast bar, they loaded up the van and Max let Charles climb into the driver’s seat, leading them to the fairgrounds.

Sure enough, it was just down the road. They pulled into the huge, dirt parking lot and parked. Approaching the ticket booth, he could see the glittering coloured lights of the ferris wheel, the whirring machinery and jingling music of the various rides. It was still early and the air was already thick with voices, advertising vendors and agriculture displays.

Max was fondly reminded of his mother taking him and Victoria to the carnival when they first moved to the states, to get a taste for American culture. Victoria loved the carousel, and would always pick the tallest horse. Max loved the carnival games, of course; his competitive streak was constant.

Oddly, he was also reminded of when his dad used to take him to karting races in Europe. The atmosphere of excitement and camaraderie as soon as they arrived on the grounds, motorhomes and tents and people milling about. The difference, though, was now Max had the freedom to go where he wanted without an imposing hand gripping firm on his shoulder, steering him away.

Max was jolted from his thoughts by a gentle hand on his elbow. Charles’ eyes were alight with excitement next to him. “Can we go on the ferris wheel?”

Max snorted. “You seem to have an agenda. You lead the way.”

Since it was still first thing in the morning, there was barely any line to wait in for the ferris wheel. Charles was grinning ear-to-ear as they boarded the ride, and Max tried not to wince when their pod rocked a little precariously as the ride operator locked them in.

The ride jolted into motion. Max sucked in a breath of surprise and, as subtly as he could, gripped onto the handlebar for dear life. He dared a glance over at Charles, who of course looked absolutely fine, gazing out over the fairgrounds with childlike awe.

Max would’ve made fun of him if he wasn’t about to sh*t his pants. Charles also had this look about him like he hadn’t let himself have this much fun in a long time, which kind of made Max sad. So he kept his mouth shut. Definitely not just because if he opened it, he might have screamed. Or thrown up. Either one seemed likely.

By the time they were nearing the top, Max had broken out into a cold sweat. Their pod reached the highest possible point it could, then, naturally, came to a shuddering stop.

Max couldn’t help it; he let out an undignified squeak and squeezed his eyes shut. There were a few seconds of silence before Max heard a soft giggle from beside him.

“Uhh… Max? You good, mate?” Charles said through laughter.

Max cracked his eyes open and almost immediately closed them again. He had, without realising it, taken a tight hold of Charles’ hand in his. Max’s face burned bright red but he did not drop his hand. Sure, it was mortifying, but in this situation, fear trumped dignity.

“Not a word,” Max grumbled. “Just let me hold your f*cking hand.”

To Max’s mild horror, Charles began stroking Max’s hand with his thumb. “Hey I don’t mind. Hold as tight as you need.”

Max nodded and breathed deep through his nose. “Thanks.”

A few beats of silence. “I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.”

“To be honest, neither did I.” Max let his face fall into the crook of his elbow where it rested along the handlebar. Charles, the f*cker, began rubbing his back like he was a child. Max let his shoulders sag.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, my mother is terrified of heights. Whenever she’d take my sister and I to the carnival, she would never let us go on the tall rides because she was afraid that they’d malfunction or something.”

“I mean, her fear probably wasn’t totally unwarranted. Carnival rides are like, super sketchy.”

Max groaned. “Don’t f*cking say that, Charles.”

“Oh, sh*t. I’m sorry, that was stupid.”

Max was about to say it’s fine, but was interrupted when the ride jolted to life and they began to descend. He let out a whimper.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Charles soothed, “We’re like, a few feet above the ground now.”

Max peeped one eye open and heaved a huge sigh of relief to see that they had nearly returned to their starting position. When the ride finally stopped again and the ride operator freed them, Max stood on shaky feet and evacuated the ride as fast as his wobbly legs would allow. He found a perfectly nice bench and plopped down with a sigh, waiting for Charles to catch up with him.

When he finally did, Charles said, “Wait here for a moment, alright?” and zipped off again. He returned a minute later with a bottle of water that he chucked towards Max and a plate full of fried dough.

Max took a massive swig of the water as Charles munched happily on the fried dough. He looked entirely unperturbed, despite Max ruining his ferris wheel experience with his theatrics.

“Sorry I sort of f*cked that up for you,” Max vocalised his thoughts.

Charles, in response, handed him the half-eaten fried dough. Max tore off a piece, stuffed it in his mouth, and handed it back to Charles.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Charles finally said. “I still had fun.”

Max looked over at Charles. His chin was covered with powdered sugar and his lips were curled in a pleasant smile.

Max was overcome with a sudden wave of fondness. He couldn’t stop the grin that overtook his own face, or the way he reached towards Charles’ face to brush the sugar off his chin. Charles looked caught off guard by that.

Max gestured to his own face. “Powdered sugar.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

It was silent again as Charles finished his fried dough and Max polished off his water. When they were both finished, Max got up and threw their trash away.

“So, do you want to check out the livestock next?” Max asked when he returned to Charles.

Charles grinned. “Is that gonna be more your speed, baby?”

Max’s mouth fell open, offended. Instead of granting Charles a verbal response, he simply shoved the other man off the bench. Charles just sat in the dirt, cackling as Max marched off towards the livestock.

Charles quickly caught back up to him and they spent the next half hour or so exploring all the pens of livestock. Charles was absolutely overjoyed by all the baby cows and goats. Max, like the facebook mom he was, got about fifty photos of Charles petting all the animals they were allowed to pet.

After a while, Charles reminded Max that they really should get on the road before noon, so they left behind all the animals and began heading to the exit. They were nearly there when one of the colourful booths caught Max’s eye.

“Oh my god, Charles,” Max said, “I’ve got to try it, please.”

The booth was one of the many boasting classic carnival games: it had water balloons in neat rows pinned to the back wall and darts lining the bench at the front. A teenager wearing a brightly coloured uniform was manning the booth, dodging darts and reassuring kids when they failed to get even one in a balloon.

Charles huffed. “Max, we’re gonna get in at midnight if we keep this up.”

Max pouted. If Charles could beg, so could he. “Please, just one round? I’m really good at it. I’ve never lost. Besides, I faced one of my biggest fears for you. You owe me.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if you don’t win me that—” he pointed to the grand prize, a massive stuffed Lightning McQueen toy— “then you’re sleeping in the van tonight.”

Max saluted. “Aye aye, captain.”

As a child, he had hated when his dad would drag him along to the pub so he could catch up with friends. Max would sit in the corner playing darts for hours while his dad made a fool of himself with all his friends at the bar. He remembered at the time wanting nothing more than for his dad to finally pay attention to him, for them to go anywhere other than that smelly, dank bar, but hey, at least Max had gotten really goddamn good at darts.

He handed over some money to the employee running the booth, who began running him through the rules.

“You get five darts. Each colour balloon is worth a different number of points. See the pink ones?” The employee pointed to a few pink ones arranged in the centre of the board. “They’re worth the most— five points each. Oh— except for the one orange one in the very middle. It’s worth six points.”

Max nodded, and was handed his darts. Charles perched on one of the stools, watching him line up his first shot with an amused smirk. He turned to a little girl, who was sitting on his other side and watching Max intently.

“Do you think he’s gonna be able to win me that Lightning McQueen?” Charles asked her.

The girl erupted into giggles. “No way. Not even I could win that, and I’m the best at this game.”

“Hear that, Max? She’s a pro. There’s no hope, you may as well give up now. Save your dignity.”

“Yeah!” The little girl chimed in. “I’m a pro.”

Max grinned as he aimed carefully for one of the pink balloons. “Oh, dear. You’re going to give me stage fright.”

“It’s okay! Don’t worry!” The girl leapt from her seat and ran to stand next to Max. “All you have to do is close one eye and aim it a little above where you want it to go.”

Max looked down at her. She had her blonde hair in little pigtails and a t-shirt featuring a little blue cartoon dog. She sort of reminded Max of a younger Victoria, which made his heart pang for his little sister. He hadn’t seen her in so long.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Max asked.

“Josie.” She grinned, showing off her two missing front teeth.

“Well, Josie. You seem to really know what you’re doing. Would you like to give me a demonstration, show me how it’s done?” Max handed her the first dart.

Josie’s eyes lit up. “Of course! We need to make sure we get your boyfriend his prize. We don’t want him to be sad.”

Max barked out a laugh at that, and then doubled over laughing at the sight of Charles’ petulant pout. Josie was entirely too busy lining up her shot to notice.

“Turn that frown upside down, sweetheart,” Max said to Charles once he could stand up straight again, “She’s gonna make sure you win that Lightning McQueen.”

Charles sniffed dramatically, acting as if Max couldn’t see the blush spreading across his face. “I have full faith in our new friend Josie. You? Not so much.”

Max elbowed him in the side gently. “Watch it, or I’ll purposefully flub all my tosses.”

“Hey, you’re the one sleeping in the van, not me.”

Josie tossed her dart, and it popped one of the blue balloons worth four points. She cheered. “I almost got a pink one! Did you see?”

Max grinned, and gave her a high five. “That was awesome! I’m so lucky to have such an experienced mentor. Aren’t I, Charles?”

Charles nodded sagely. “That’s right. If you don’t win now, then you’ll have wasted this poor girl’s time.”

“That’s not true!” Josie squealed. “I was helping a friend!”

Max laughed and picked up the next dart, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “How rude, Charlie.”

Charles shoved Max. “Just throw the fu— fudging dart already.”

“Careful there. Let’s not say anything we might regret.”

Max then threw the dart. It hit the centermost orange balloon. Josie shrieked with delight. Max cheered along with her. When he looked over to see Charles’ reaction, the other man had a strange, constipated look on his face as if he wasn’t sure whether to look happy or disgruntled.

“Do you think we’ll even have room in the van for that massive thing?” Max pointed to the Lightning McQueen plush with his third dart. It was easily as big as Josie.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, now,” Charles said, “just because you got lucky.”

Max threw the next three darts one by one, and they all struck pink.

Josie was ecstatic, and Charles just looked thoroughly put out. The employee handed Max the Lightning McQueen, which Max immediately bestowed upon Charles.

“For you, my love,” he said.

“Thanks,” Charles grumbled.

“What, no thank-you kiss?”

Charles rolled his eyes, and looked like he was about to offer a rebuttal, but instead darted forward and planted a quick kiss on Max’s lips. Max blinked a few times, unable to come up with a smart response, to Charles’ great satisfaction. Josie made a noise of disgust from somewhere below.

Max and Charles then said their goodbyes to Josie, whose mom came scurrying over, half scolding Josie for wandering away and half apologising to Max and Charles for Josie bothering them. They reassured Josie’s mom that she had been a wonderful help and not at all a burden. Josie’s mom didn’t look very convinced.

Finally, at half-past eleven, they piled into the van and re-embarked on their journey. Charles took the first driving shift. A couple hours in they made a quick pit stop for gas and some burgers for lunch. Charles took up his post in the passenger seat, and they munched on their food in peaceful silence.

Once they were finished, Max merged back onto I-80. Charles, nice and full from lunch, was asleep within minutes. He was curled up in his seat, knees to his chest and his head burrowed into the Lightning McQueen plush, using it as a pillow. His Ferrari blanket was wrapped around him like a little cocoon so Max could only really see his eyes and the top of his head.

The sight made Max’s insides all warm. He recalled practising for his licence when he was sixteen— despite his extensive racing experience, his mother had been hesitant to let him behind the wheel of their old Toyota minivan. He drove too fast, she had said once while gripping the passenger door for dear life. He drove like he was still on the karting track. He drove, his mother had said, like his father.

He remembers the first time his mother had let him drive Victoria. She had needed to be picked up from soccer practice, and his mother had been held up late at work. She called Max in a flurry, asked him to pick her up, but to be careful and obey the speed limits. Max had scowled at that, bitter.

She’s my sister, he had snapped back. I’m not stupid.

The entire drive back with Victoria, Max had been gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. His heart sped up every time he had to merge into traffic. When they were almost home, he looked over and found her fast asleep. Completely relaxed and entirely trusting that Max would get her home safely. Max had swallowed a lump in his throat as he made a silent promise to himself that he would protect his sister from anything that the world threw at her.

Max chanced another quick glance from the road to Charles. His eyes fluttered in his sleep, and he let out a small sigh before shifting and settling again. If Max squinted, he could make out a few freckles on his nose, made visible by the afternoon sun.

Max really f*cking liked him. And that scared the sh*t out of him. His heart was in his throat as he fixed his eyes forward.

Maybe he would never get a real chance with Charles. Maybe they sometimes toed the line between playful flirting and actual flirting in a way that made Max’s head spin, but to initiate anything just felt like he was taking advantage of Charles. He had just been dumped by Pierre again and was more than likely still in a weird place about it. So, Max decided he wouldn’t make any move. He would be patient, and if somewhere down the line Charles decided he wanted something with Max, then so be it. They would be living in the same city, after all. They had all the time in the world.

If Charles decided he didn’t want anything with Max, though, that would be okay. Max would still protect Charles like he was family. If Pierre ever showed his sorry face, Max would have some choice words for him. Maybe, also, a little right hook to the jaw. Just a little one.

Half an hour later, Charles woke up, blinking away the sleep and squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming in through the windshield. He looked over at Max with a sleepy grin, eyes still squinty. Max’s heart did an embarrassing little somersault in his chest.

“How long was I out?” Charles asked, voice a little rough with sleep.

Max shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “Maybe an hour and a half.”

“Sorry to leave you alone for so long.”

Max smirked. “It was actually quite peaceful, so thank you.”

Charles gasped. “How rude. Well, it’s been silent for too long, then!” He reached for his phone and plugged it into the aux cord. He scrolled through their shared playlist for a second before letting out a squeal of excitement and pressing play.

Acapella voices suddenly blasted through the speakers, making Max jump. He instantly recognised the voices, to which he let out a dramatic sigh and said, “Really, Charles? ABBA?”

Charles didn’t even try to look indignant, which Max would have expected. He just laughed and said, “Everyone likes ABBA. Don’t pretend like you don’t, Max.”

And Max couldn’t even deny it. He let out an exhilarated laugh as Charles began singing along to “Take A Chance on Me.”

If you need me, let me know, gonna be around

If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down

Charles’ singing was terrible, and he danced like a fish out of water. Max suspected he wasn’t trying very hard. It was a spectacular sight.

At one point, Charles got so wrapped up in his performance that he rolled down his window and started screaming the lyrics out of the van.

You say that I waste my time, but I can’t get you off my mind

No, I can’t let go

‘Cause I love you so

And Max couldn’t help it. He let out a laugh fueled by pure dopamine, and rolled down his own window to join Charles in screaming ABBA lyrics at the passing cars. They probably both looked insane— wind was whipping through the car, making Charles’ hair look wild, and both of their heads were sticking out of the van like dogs. Yet Max couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy.

If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown

Honey, I’m still free

Take a chance on me

Max looked over to Charles as he sang the lyric only to find the other man already looking at him, beaming. His eyes were crescents and his dimples were on full display.

f*ck, Max wanted to kiss him so badly.

Finally, the song ended, and both Max and Charles were left to catch their breath. Another song from the playlist began to auto-play. It was one of Max’s picks.

“What’s this one called?” Charles asked.

“She’s a Rainbow by the Rolling Stones,” Max answered.

The cheerful piano intro made way into the first lyrics, which Max began to sing.

She comes in colours everywhere

She combs her hair

She’s like a rainbow

Charles giggled at Max’s singing. He had his eyes glued to Max, and they were practically sparkling, as if watching Max was like watching the Rolling Stones performing live. Soon enough he caught on to the lyrics, and began singing in earnest with Max.

The song ended, and a quieter song took its place. Max rolled up the windows and Charles let out a happy sigh as he curled back up into his Ferrari blanket.

“I liked that one,” he murmured.

Satisfaction washed over Max, along with the smooth lyrics of the Lord Huron song playing on the speakers.

“I’m glad,” Max said.

To the ends of the earth would you follow me? The song asked.

Max looked at Charles, who was gazing out the window as the flat, open fields of Nebraska whizzed by.

If Charles asked him to, Max just might.

When they finally stopped for the night in Kearney, Nebraska, it was like they were in their own little world. Max didn’t even spare a thought to the drive tomorrow, like when he would have to set an alarm and when they should plan to stop for food and gas. All he could focus on was bantering with Charles, making Charles laugh, carefully deliberating with Charles over which drinks they should order from the Room Service menu, Charles Charles Charles.

It was the evening— nearly 6:00 p.m— so they ordered dinner as well. Max got a salad and Charles got pasta. They ordered a bottle of wine to share. One glass lead to another and soon enough they were giggling all over each other, sitting criss-cross in front of each other on the bed with drinks in hand.

“Did you know I thought you were really pretty when we first met?” Max stumbled out. This many drinks in and his filter was completely gone.

“Is that so?” Charles asked. Max expected it to sound all pompous and sh*t-eating, but Charles sounded almost shy, unsure.

“Mm, yup.” Max took another sip of his drink. “When Lando introduced us, I thought I thought you were really cute. I was a little nervous.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I would’ve asked you out, but you were dating Pierre at the time.” Max didn’t know why he couldn’t just shut the f*ck up and stop putting his foot in his mouth all the time. He waited for Charles to back away, officially too uncomfortable to keep encouraging this strange game of gay chicken, but it never came.

“Pity,” Charles said, “I would have liked that.” He tried to sound smooth and suave, but the slight shake to his voice and the slight slur from the alcohol betrayed him.

“Is that so?” Max asked, echoing Charles.

Charles swallowed. “Mhm.”

Max smiled, even though his heart felt like it might give out any minute. His face was warm from the alcohol. Everything felt warm, pleasantly so, and sort of rosy and sweet. “I still think you’re beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Charles grumbled, shoving Max’s shoulder half-heartedly. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like how?”

“Y’know. All intense-like. With those f*cking— hypnotising blue eyes.”

Max barked out a surprised laugh. “You think they’re hypnotising?”

“Shut up. As if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked, genuinely confused.

Charles groaned and hid his face in his hands. “You know. You look at people like— like everyone you speak to is the most enchanting, interesting person you’ve ever met.”

“Maybe I just look at you like that.”

Charles lets out a small whimper into his hands. “Why on earth would you look at me like that? What do I have going for me, besides— besides looks?”

Max’s heart panged. He would ask where on earth Charles got that idea, but he could probably guess. He reached up and carefully let his fingers wrap around Charles’ wrists. He left them there for a moment, to sense for any possible discomfort, before guiding Charles’ hands away from his face.

Charles’ cheeks were beet-red, and he wilted under all the attention. Max knew it was a lot— ex-boyfriends and girlfriends alike had told him being at the mercy of his gaze was like being watched by a hawk. He didn’t let it falter, though— if anyone deserved his attention, it was Charles.

“Charlie.” He let the nickname hang in the air. Charles’ eyes widened. “You are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. But you’re also one of the most interesting, too. You’re intelligent, outgoing, kind, and motivated. But you’re also stubborn, prideful, and a little weird, and I find it all equally enchanting.”

Charles' eyes began to shine. He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. Max reached out to cup Charles’ cheek in his hand. He ran a thumb reverently over his cheek a couple times before carefully tugging Charles’ bottom lip from beneath his teeth. A shy smile spread over Charles’ face, dimpled and beautiful.

“I’m not vain, yeah? Maybe the first time I met you, your looks were the first thing I noticed, but then you smiled, and said something funny about my Red Bull t-shirt that I can't remember, and it only made me want to get to know you better. Every weird and wonderful part of you.”

Charles let out a weird, strangled half-sob half-laugh. He looked at a loss for words; he finally managed a soft, “Well f*ck me.”

Max grinned. “If you insist.”

Charles laughed. “Shut the f*ck up.”

Then Charles was surging forward and kissing Max. It didn’t stop with a peck, like it had in the past when they were pretending. Charles just kept kissing Max like he was parched and Max was a freshwater spring.

Max finally got over the initial shock and then it was like his body went on autopilot. He returned the kiss fervently. His hands flitted around to various parts of Charles’ body like they couldn’t decide where to settle: his neck, his thighs, his shoulders, before finally finding a home on his waist.

Somewhere in the middle of it Max moved back so he was seated against the headboard of the bed, and Charles was straddling his waist, legs bent on either side of his thighs. Max tried not to think about where they were connected, and how he could feel both of them hardening between them.

Charles’ hands came up to wrap around Max’s shoulders. He ran his fingernails gently up and down Max’s neck before settling on his face. Max sighed into the kiss at the sensation. He greedily let his hands creep up underneath the hem of Charles’ t-shirt and he ran his fingertips over the soft skin of Charles’ stomach and waist. The action elicited the softest moan from Charles.

Max tentatively pulled up on Charles’ shirt, checking the waters. He disconnected his lips from Charles, saying, “May I?”

Charles nodded rapidly. He attempted to remove the shirt himself, but Max batted his hands away.

“Don’t be impatient,” Max murmured, and ran his hands up Charles’ sides underneath the shirt, all the way to the top until he was finally pulling Charles’ shirt over his head. Charles shivered and obediently lifted his arms above his head to help Max out. When the shirt was off, Max threw it somewhere on the floor and sat back to soak in the sight in front of him. His mouth nearly watered at the smooth expanse of Charles’ skin, his lightly toned muscles rippling as he adjusted himself on Max’s lap.

“f*ck, you’re beautiful,” he murmured out loud without even thinking.

Charles turned beet-red. “Well, you can’t just leave me like this by myself.” He reached down to tug at the hem of Max’s shirt. Max considered giving him a tough time about it, but he found himself too impatient to drag out the teasing any longer. He lifted his arms and let Charles tug his shirt off.

They sat in silence for a minute, just taking each other in. Max felt strangely exposed as Charles’ eyes travelled up and down his bare torso. It wasn’t a bad strange, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last like this.

“You’re quite beautiful yourself, you know,” Charles finally murmured after a long time.

Max let out a whimper of his own. No one had ever called him beautiful before. Sure, his mother called him handsome sometimes, in that motherly sort of way. His exes had said he was hot, or cute. But beautiful… that was new.

Max firmly planted his hands on Charles’ upper back and pulled him down so their lips could meet again.

It then felt like hours— or maybe it was just a few seconds— that they spent just kissing, exploring every inch of each other’s mouths. Max could have probably spent forever like this, exploring Charles’ body with his hands and Charles’ mouth with his tongue, soaking in the soft little sounds that escaped from the other man’s throat.

Then it happened. Charles shifted his hips in just the right way, and the friction had both of them gasping against each other. Charles rolled his hips again, experimentally, with a little more intention. Max groaned.

“f*ck,” he whispered. “Up, up.” He patted Charles’ hip with one hand. Charles thankfully didn’t ask questions, just seemed to read Max’s mind, because he quickly rolled off of Max’s lap. He sprawled out across the bed and looked up at Max expectantly. Max stalled at the sight and nearly forgot what he had gotten up to do.

Charles giggled. “Earth to Max.”

“f*ck, yeah. Right.” Max shuffled around the room, gathering a condom and a little travel-sized bottle of lube that lived permanently beside his toothbrush and toothpaste. He made his way back to Charles and crawled in between his legs. Charles spread his legs to make room and shuffled so that he was comfortably laid out across the pillows, his arms tossed carelessly above his head. The sight was tantalising, and it made Max’s dick throb with want.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are yet?”

Charles rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “Maybe a couple times. But it never hurts to hear again.”

“You’re stunning.”

Before Charles could respond, Max hooked his fingers into the waistband of Charles’ sweatpants and tugged. Charles lifted his hips to help as Max tugged his sweatpants and briefs off in one fell swoop. Charles’ co*ck, now freed, laid against his stomach, hard and dripping. Max could have stayed there forever, kneeling half-dressed in between Charles Leclerc’s legs, just drinking it all in.

Charles was getting visibly flustered at Max’s silent reverence. “Come up here,” he whispered, holding out a hand to Max. Max followed, crawling up the bed until his lips could meet Charles’ once again. He kissed Charles deeply, and ran a gentle hand up his thigh and then his side, up to his shoulder and down his arm. He ran his hand across Charles’ chest, stopping to run a thumb over his nipples, which was met with a gasp and a shiver.

His hand continued down Charles’ stomach and then finally took Charles in one hand, running his thumb over his head and then jerking Charles off, once and then twice. Charles’ hips jerked in surprise, f*cking up into Max’s hand.

“f*ck,” Charles groaned, breaking the kiss, “just— f*ck me already, please Max.”

“Alright,” Max murmured, leaning back so he was sitting on his heels again, all of Charles in view. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Max popped open the bottle of lube and coated his fingers generously. He circled Charles’ hole with his middle fingers, not yet pressing in.

“Tell me to stop if anything’s uncomfortable, alright?” Max murmured.

“Okay, okay, just— do it, please.”

Max smirked and nodded. Instead of teasing Charles about his impatience, he just pressed inside with his middle finger. Charles gasped. “f*ck!”

Max slowly f*cked in and out with the one finger, testing the waters. At first, Charles squeezed his eyes shut, muscles tense, seemingly focused entirely on the finger pressing in and out of him. He slowly began to relax, however, and seemed to be enjoying himself. Finally, he nodded frantically.

“Okay. You can add another one.”

Max pressed a soft kiss to the inside of Charles’ thigh as he pressed his ring finger in alongside his middle. “You’re doing amazing, baby.”

Charles whimpered at that, and his co*cked jumped against his stomach.

Max chuckled softly. “Which part of that did you like? The praise or the nickname?”

Charles was silent at first, focused on his breathing.

“Hmm?” Max prompted.

“B-Both.”

“Mm. Good to know.” Max chose that moment to curl his fingers in just the right way to hit the bundle of nerves that he knew would drive Charles crazy.

And it did the trick. Charles threw his head back against the pillows, biting the side of his hand to suppress a moan.

“Let me hear you, baby,” Max murmured. “You sound beautiful like this, falling apart on my fingers.”

Charles whimpered. “Max, I’m— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna what?”

“Gonna— come, if you don’t—”

Max stopped his pressure on the prostate, instead pushing in a third finger. “Well, we don’t want that, do we? Not yet. I haven’t even gotten inside you.”

“I know,” Charles groaned. “So just do it already. I’m prepped enough.”

Max made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue. “Patience. I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

Once Max had determined Charles was prepped enough, he pulled his fingers out. He ignored Charles’ whines at the loss and focused on pulling the condom over his own neglected co*ck. He was painfully hard now, and Max had to focus all his energy on not coming from just the contact alone. Once the condom was on and thoroughly coated with lube, he crawled back up so he was hovering over Charles.

He planted a soft kiss on his lips and smiled down at him. “How do you want me? Like this? Or do you want to ride me?”

“Like— like this for now. I can ride you next time.”

Max’s heart sped up at the prospect of doing this again, and his dick twitched between them. He nodded to Charles. “Sounds amazing, baby.”

He hitched Charles’ legs up and over his arms so he could get a good angle. He tried not to think too hard about how flexible the other man was. f*ck. sh*t.

He lined up, circled his co*ck over Charles’ hole, eyes glued to Charles’ face. He pressed the head carefully in, all the while examining Charles’ expression for any sign of discomfort.

Charles' eyes widened slightly at the intrusion at first, but it quickly turned to pleasure as Max pressed in further.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Charles mumbled, and Max nearly came on the spot. He was not expecting the words of praise from Charles, and now all of a sudden he was stumbling all over himself trying to regain his cool demeanour.

He let his head fall against Charles’ shoulder as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a second as they both breathed heavily, letting themselves adjust. Finally, Max picked his head up from Charles’ shoulder and pressed a long, searing kiss to his lips. They kissed with heat and passion, joined neatly at the hips.

Charles was the one who broke it. “Please move or else I will go insane.”

Max chuckled softly. “Alright.”

He let himself slide nearly all the way out before pushing back in again. Both Max and Charles groaned. Max let himself speed up until he had set a consistent pace.

“Max,” Charles chanted his name breathlessly in one ear. “Max, Max.”

Max pressed a kiss into Charles’ throat, sucking just a little.

“Schatje,” he murmured into Charles’ collarbone.

“What— what does that mean?” Charles asked breathlessly.

“Like baby, or sweetheart,” Max responded, “but in Dutch.”

Charles grinned, dimples on full display. “Can I call you cherie, then?”

Max all of a sudden wanted to cry. He pressed his face back into Charles’ neck to avoid the sickeningly fond expression on Charles’ face. He was not going to be that loser who cried during sex.

He picked up the pace even more, and pressed Charles’ legs closer to his chest. He finally hit the perfect angle that once again had Charles crying out. Now, nearly every breath out was accompanied by a whine from Charles.

“I’m— I’m close,” Charles whimpered, and f*ck, Max had been close since the moment he had pressed in. He reached between them with his still lube-covered hand to stroke Charles’ co*ck once, twice, and with a high-pitched whimper Charles came all over his chest. Max followed soon after, unloading into the condom, pressed deep inside Charles.

Max’s ears were ringing as he came down from his org*sm. He collapsed on Charles’ chest, still inside him, as they both caught their breaths.

It had been silent for a minute or two, just the sounds of breathing filling the air, when Max felt hesitant hands begin to stroke up and down his back, and then up into his hair where gentle fingernails scratched at his scalp. He felt like a cat, burrowing deeper into Charles’ hold, warm and happy and almost purring.

Max finally got up when the come cooling between his chest and Charles’ stomach became too uncomfortable to ignore any longer. Max pulled himself up off Charles with a groan, carefully pulling out and tying the condom off.

“Be right back,” Max murmured, “Stay right there, ‘kay?”

Charles, brain seemingly still too f*cked out to form a sentence, just nodded and smiled sleepily at him. Max’s heart squeezed at the sight and he forced himself away and into the bathroom to get a washcloth.

As he was running the cloth under warm water, he examined himself in the mirror. His hair was sticking up in all directions from Charles’ fussing. His face was flushed, and his eyes were dilated. Just seeing how affected he was made Max want to unscrew the mirror and hide it somewhere he couldn’t see.

f*ck. He hadn’t felt this way since— Daniel, probably. Max had no clue what the f*ck he was going to do, where they would go from here.

He shook his head and looked away, quickly cleaning himself off before returning to Charles with the cloth. He cleaned Charles up, disposed of the towel, and crawled into bed.

Charles was waiting for him. He had already thoroughly burrowed himself into the comforter, so that once again only his eyes were visible over the top of it. Those f*cking sea green eyes that could probably see into his soul, watched him inquisitively as he made himself comfortable. He laid on his side so he could face Charles.

Once Max had settled, Charles smiled, his eyes crinkling into crescents over the comforter.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi,” Max whispered back. “We should get some sleep, yeah? Long day of driving tomorrow.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Charles whispered back. He stuck his hand out from underneath the blanket briefly so he could salute Max, just like Max had done earlier, then he squeezed his eyes shut and flipped over on his other side. A couple seconds passed, and then he began wiggling backwards so his back was pressed up against Max’s chest.

Max snorted at his antics before relenting and wrapping his arm around Charles’ waist, pulling the man flush against him. He burrowed his nose into the nape of Charles’ neck and breathed in deeply.

Back in California, Charles had used a coconut shampoo that Max had always been too embarrassed to admit that he really liked the scent of. Charles must have packed it away with his things, because now his hair just smelled like the generic freebie hotel shampoos. Somehow, though, his hair still smelled delicious and uniquely Charles.

Max let Charles’ soft scent and the feeling of his even breaths against his chest lull him into a deep sleep.

Notes:

>:)
as usual, follow me on tumblr @illusoriess for fic updates and to hear me yap about f1 and lestappen !!

Chapter 8: Chicago, Illinois

Notes:

it has been soo long since the last chapter O_o
everything has been total chaos on my end, i'm going into the final year of my degree and i'm just so busy! so please excuse me
also, i am sorry about this chapter. after the last one, it will feel a bit like being dunked in a tub of ice water.
cw: descriptions of a panic attack, vomiting, past child neglect (?)
enjoy? keep yourself safe, and let's go :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Max woke up to a pounding head, a dry mouth, and panicked hands shoving at his shoulders.

“Max!” Charles hissed somewhere above him. “Wake up!”

Max groaned and shoved his face further into his pillow. It felt like he had just gone to sleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s 9:30. We forgot to set an alarm!”

Max’s eyes flew open. sh*t.

Max’s original plan would have had them arriving in Omaha last night. They would have departed at their usual 8 a.m. start time and rolled into Chicago in the early afternoon, leaving plenty of time to relax and even sight-see in the Windy City. As it was, between stopping early in Douglas the other night and getting a late start yesterday, they had only managed to make it as far as Kearney before being forced to stop for the night.

Now, they had an almost 9-hour day of driving ahead of them. They could not afford stupid f*ck-ups like forgetting to set an alarm and sleeping an hour and a half past their start time.

“f*ck.” He finally vocalised.

“f*ck,” Charles agreed.

Max hauled himself out of bed. The light streaming in through the blinds felt like knives, and his head felt like it was about to burst. They hadn’t even had that much to drink last night, but Max always reacted like this to wine.

He scanned the room with squinted eyes. Charles, of course, was already packed and ready to go. The room was immaculate as well, not a dish or crumb or any indication that last night had happened.

Last night. It all came washing over Max like a tidal wave. The confessions, the vulnerability. The sex. Riding off the alcohol and a perfect day, the Max of yesterday had somehow found it in himself to act so f*cking soft Charles in a way he had never done before with anyone he’s dated. Not even Daniel.

He risked a side-eye or two at Charles while he threw some clothes on and packed up his bags. The man was tapping his foot, alternating between scanning the room and checking the time on his phone. Max couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he frustrated at Max for forgetting to set an alarm and sleeping in? Does he regret sleeping with him? Is he uncomfortable and put off by all the mushy, vulnerable things Max had said?

Max shook his head. These thoughts were not productive at all. Lando had told him as much about a billion times. Until Charles gave a solid indication that he regretted what happened last night, Max needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.

When Max had all of his things, they went to the lobby to hand in their keycards. They were quiet as they loaded up the van and disembarked.

It was ten minutes into the drive when Max cleared his throat. He tapped the steering wheel a couple of times, charging himself up to speak. “Do you want to pick something up for breakfast?”

Charles looked almost startled, like he hadn’t expected Max to speak. Or like he had forgotten he was there at all. “Oh, um, yeah I guess so.”

“Anything specific you want?”

“Not really.”

Max tried to swallow down his panic at Charles’ dismissive answers. It was probably nothing. They were both tired and frazzled from the hurried start to their day and the long, gruelling drive that stood ahead of them.

He found the nearest Dunkin’ drive thru and pulled in. He ordered himself a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Charles ordered some sugary refresher and a box of munchkins.

They get their food and eat it in quick silence. Max shoved the last bite of breakfast sandwich into his mouth and shoved his trash into the now-empty Dunkin’ bag. Just as he did, Charles finished up his own breakfast.

“Do you want me to throw that away for you?” Max asked. He held out the bag for Charles’ trash.

Once again, Charles started. “Oh, um, yeah. Thanks.” He shoved his trash into the bag and quickly went back to picking at his cuticles, knees pulled to his chest.

Max sighed and got out of the van. He walked over to the nearest trash bin and disposed of their garbage, but took a minute to himself before walking back over to the van. He glanced back at the van, where he could see Charles preoccupied with his phone, eyebrows furrowed. He hadn’t noticed how long Max was taking to return. Max really wanted to call Lando, vent a bit and maybe ask for advice, but Charles would definitely notice if he took a phone call in the middle of the parking lot. And besides, they didn’t have any time to spare.

Max needed to call Lando, though. Tomorrow, he would, for sure. They’d be back on schedule, and Max would be able to breathe again. It had only been a few days since Max had spoken to Lando last, but it felt like weeks. So much had happened since then.

He returned to the van after a few more seconds. Charles did not even look up from his phone, so Max apparently avoided any suspicion. He pulled back onto the interstate, and from there, the hours blended together.

Needless to say, it quickly proved to be the longest f*cking day of the whole trip. Charles was consistently quiet the whole time, and Max even caught him pouting a few times when he looked over. Max almost preferred it when it was his own shift driving, because even though it made his neck and back hurt like a bitch, at least he wouldn’t have to fuss over what he did with his hands, where he looked. Max generally hated riding in the passenger seat. Something in him just shut down and reverted to the idiot twelve-year-old who sat on his hands to warm them up after eight hours on the karting track in January, holding his breath until his lungs burned just so his dad wouldn’t hear him cry.

Despite the fact that he had no f*cking reason to, Max caught himself breathing in short little breaths from his mouth, just like he used to in order to make the least amount of noise. He knew it was stupid. Even if Charles hated him and was disgusted by him, he couldn’t deny the fact that Max had every right to be here and to exist in this space. Still, he couldn’t help the spike of fear whenever he shifted in his seat or coughed, and broke the thick, heavy silence hanging over the van, drawing attention to it. To what remained unsaid.

They couldn’t lose the time it would take to stop and have a sit down lunch, so they stopped at a QuikTrip just outside Des Moines, Iowa, and grabbed some sandwiches to eat in the car. It was about four hours in, so Max took over driving from Charles for his second shift.

Max didn’t know what to think. Part of him was anxious that he did something or said something weird and now Charles was mad at him and hated him again and wanted nothing to do with him and was uncomfortable to even be forced into the van with him, and everything that they had slowly built over the last few days was destroyed.

The other part of him was frustrated. Angry, even. At himself, for getting in over his head and doing something as stupid and impulsive as f*cking Charles, at Charles for actually pretending to like him and then turning around giving him the silent treatment, not even bothering to tell Max what he did wrong.

He might also be mad at the universe, maybe, for throwing him into this stupid clusterf*ck of a situation worthy of its own cable slot. If Max’s life was a movie, it would be a tragic comedy with a live studio audience, laughing and jeering at every stupid scenario he got himself into.

Somewhere around hour seven Charles began huffing, readjusting in his seat, sighing, readjusting again. Max tried to ignore it and instead focused on chewing all the skin off his lips. His eyes remained firmly glued on the road.

Finally, after a shuffle and an especially loud huff, Max couldn’t sit silently any longer. “What’s wrong?”

There was a moment of silence, and another shuffle. Max glanced away from the road at Charles, and took note of the pained expression on his face. “Nothing,” he finally said.

Max rolled his eyes. “It’s obviously not nothing. You’ve been huffing and puffing for the last half hour.”

“It’s fine, Max. I’m just sore after seven hours of driving.”

He said it almost accusingly, as if it was all Max’s fault that they were still driving. Ha, Max thought. That’s rich.

Charles speaks again a few minutes later. “Can we switch now, please?”

Max shrugged. “Yeah, whatever you want.”

They switched over again at a travel stop, using the bathroom and grabbing some snacks before embarking on the final stretch of their gruelling, almost 10-hour day.

Max was already making himself comfortable in the passenger’s seat when Charles climbed into the driver’s seat. Charles sighed almost immediately.

“How do you even reach the steering wheel sitting this far back?” Charles mumbled under his breath as he reached for the adjusting handle on the side of the seat. “I’m pretty sure we’re the same height.”

Max snorted. “Technically, you’re supposed to have it at arm’s length, for safety. You’re not supposed to be on top of the steering wheel.”

Charles rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything, instead opting to return to silence for the next hour or so. Wrong thing to say, apparently. Max tried to swallow down the panic building at exponential rates.

Here’s the thing about Max; he liked to think that he was a pretty straightforward and honest guy. Max didn’t deal in passive aggressiveness and dancing around conflict. He preferred when people just went outright and said what was bothering them. More than anything, Max f*cking detested not being able to tell what someone was feeling. He had never considered himself very good at decoding the delicate nuances of peoples’ facial expressions. More often than not he got it wrong, making him look like an obtuse asshole.

Right now, he felt like a big, f*cking clown, sitting here floundering over trying to figure out what Charles was feeling and putting his foot in his mouth instead of making things better.

Max almost cried with relief when the Chicago skyline finally came into view in front of them. The sun was setting, as it was nearly 7 p.m. now, and the pink and orange cotton candy clouds hanging over Chicago nearly made Max forget all about the f*cking slog of a drive they had just undergone.

Charles asked Max to put the hotel he had booked into the Maps app. The robotic GPS voice began reading out directions to the thick silence of the van cab.

“So,” Charles said suddenly, “What’s the itinerary for tomorrow?”

Max cleared his throat, feeling put on the spot. “Well, we’ll be back on track, so we’ll really only have to drive for six hours tomorrow.”

Charles snorted. “Only.”

“Better than nine,” Max said, shrugging. “As long as we get an early start tomorrow, we should be able to take it easy tomorrow afternoon.”

“So glad we’ll be taking it easy somewhere in Ohio rather than Chicago.” Charles said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Frustration bubbled over into low-level anger in Max’s chest. He threw his hands up into the air. “Okay, and what do you want me to do about it?”

Charles scoffed, defensive. “Nothing. I was just, you know, complaining. Trying to make light of the situation, or whatever. Cheer you up, maybe?”

“Well you’re not cheering me up, you’re kind of bumming me out. You have been all day, with your f*cking — sighing, and sh*t. And I don’t need you to cheer me up, thanks.”

Charles' face was deep, tomato red. Max couldn’t tell if it was more from anger or embarrassment. He took an exit a little too sharply, and Max had to grip the door handle to keep from sliding over the console. “I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died.”

“Could ask you the same, to be honest.” Max’s voice was cool, biting. “You’ve been throwing a mini bitch-fit all day.”

There was a thunderstorm brewing in Charles’ eyes. They narrowed, careful and calculated, and somehow Max knew this was only the beginning of it. That so much sh*t was brewing over the horizon and it was only a matter of time before it reached them. “You know, I’d really hoped that he was right.”

That caught Max off guard. “Hoped who was right? About what?”

Charles swivelled his eyes back to the road. He set his jaw, expression stony. “When I talked to Daniel at Yellowstone, he told me you seemed different than you were in high school. Less stubborn, less prideful. Better at expressing emotions. Obviously he was wrong.”

“Is that so?” Max’s breaths were coming short and laboured.

“Yeah. I don’t think you’ve changed a bit.”

“Well at least I’m not the one who decided to move 3,000 miles across the country for some guy who doesn’t even respect me.”

There was a moment of pin-drop silence, the air almost crackling with electricity like it did seconds before a lightning strike. Max regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.

Charles swerved into the hotel parking lot at last, and threw the van into park in front of the sliding doors.

“Get out,” He growled. “Go check us in, punch a f*cking wall or something, I don’t care. Just get out.”

Max didn’t respond. He threw open the passenger door, which was a bit of a struggle with how much his hands were shaking. He grabbed his wallet and phone and climbed out of the van without looking back.

As soon as Max was clear of the van and had slammed the door shut behind him, Charles threw the van back into drive and peeled out of the parking lot.

A familiar feeling of doom settled firmly over Max. The first time he had felt it was as a small child, watching The Lion King for the first time with his little sister. When Simba had been left at the bottom of the canyon and the stampede of wildebeests came closer and closer to crushing him, Max had gripped his sister’s hand like a vice and whined at his mom to do something. Like she was somehow able to reach through the screen and whisk Simba to safety herself.

The second time had been a few years later, at a gas station somewhere in Italy, watching the taillights of his dad’s van get smaller and smaller as he drove away. Max remembered being on complete auto-pilot when he had entered the gas station shop and calmly asked to use their phone. He remembered the panicked voice of his mother streaming in one ear and out the other, because his brain was just a never ending loop of he’s left me, he’s gone for good this time, he’s left me and he’s not coming back.

Similar thoughts danced through Max’s head as he passed robotically through the front doors of the hotel and to the receptionist’s desk. His mind was a loop of, he’s gone, he’s taken the van and all your stuff, and now you’re stuck here with no clothes and a dying phone and no way of getting anywhere, and you sign a f*cking lease in a few days, all the while attempting to relay to the receptionist that yes, he would like to check in, his name is Max Verstappen, and oh f*ck, she just asked me something, what did she say?

Max cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’m — I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

The receptionist smiled sympathetically. She looked worried; Max wished she wouldn’t. “Yes, of course. I asked if you’d like both key cards, or if you only wanted one.”

“Oh— um,” Max began. He licked his lips, wringed his hands. “I mean, there might be someone, um, coming later? Possibly? So could I, uhh—”

The woman finally put him out of his misery, interrupting his rambling sentence. “I could hold onto the other card for now, and give it to them when they arrive. May I have a name?”

“A name?”

“Of the other guest.”

“Oh. Um, Charles? Leclerc.”

The receptionist nodded, typing quickly into her computer before reaching below the table and returning with a small, plastic card tucked neatly into a paper sleeve. Max took it with trembling hands, shooting the receptionist one last strained polite smile before turning on his heel and making way to the elevator.

It was a miracle that Max was even able to find the room at all. His vision had begun to swim, and his lungs were burning— was he even breathing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that everything hurt and he sort of wanted to throw up.

Max unlocked the door to the hotel room, and the want turned quickly into a need. He pushed into the bathroom and flicked on the lights, ignoring the way the harsh, fluorescent lights burned his retinas. Max slid to the floor in front of the toilet and promptly emptied the entire contents of his stomach into the bowl.

f*ck, this is pathetic, he thought faintly as he threw up. He had f*cked up, again, and he had been left behind, again. Max had really thought that he had changed; that he was different. Ready for a relationship like this.

Obviously not, though. Charles was right. He must have not changed much at all.

He let out a whimper as the acid burned his throat. Sweat beaded at his hairline as his stomach heaved to expel the final remains of whatever food Max had eaten that day.

After a minute or two of nothing coming up, Max flushed the toilet and wiped his mouth with toilet paper. He wanted so badly to stand up and rinse his mouth out, but he didn’t entirely trust his legs not to give out on him, so he stayed there on the floor. Max let his lower back press against the bathroom wall and curled his legs tightly to his chest as his breathing picked back up again.

A breath stuttered into a sob and before Max knew it, tears were streaming down his face. It became a struggle to balance his irregular sobs with his rapid, staccato breaths. He pressed his wet cheeks to his knees and tried to remember the methods his mom taught him to calm himself down when he got like this. He counted to 100 and then backwards down to one. He ran his finger over the grout between the floor tiles and made a list of all the places his body was touching something. He traced the capitals of various countries onto the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

Distantly, it occurred to Max that he ought to be thankful that he chose not to wear a pair of his skinny jeans today. As it was, the collar of his fleece felt like it was choking him. He didn’t know what he would have done if he also had to deal with restrictive denim squeezing the life out of his legs.

Max had no idea how long he sat on that bathroom floor, sobbing and gasping for breath and tracing nonsensical patterns into the cold tile next to him. Everything sounded all muffled and strange like it usually did when he got like this, so he didn’t even notice the click of the hotel room door unlocking, or the footsteps into the bathroom.

All of a sudden hands were on his face, pulling it up and away from his knees. The hands, pleasantly cool and dry, cradled his cheeks carefully. They felt f*cking amazing on his warm, tear-stained cheeks. God, Max’s whole face was probably beet-red and swollen.

Charles’ face popped into view. His brows were furrowed and his beautiful, green eyes were wide and scared. Why did he look so scared?

His lips were moving. He was obviously saying something, but Max couldn’t tell what.

“–ax. Max. Please say something, you’re scaring me.”

“Sorry. ‘M sorry,” Max mumbled.

“Oh, thank god,” Charles said, voice breaking. “Your breathing is still a little quick, can you breathe with me?”

Max just stared at him. The harder he tried to take long, deep breaths, the more difficult it was.

“Okay, can you try and hold your breath? Just for a few seconds, there you go, good job,” Charles’ voice was soft and soothing, but Max could hear the undercurrent of fear that remained. Charles reached forward and grabbed one of Max’s hands, guiding it to his chest. “Feel my breaths. In and out, real deep, just like that.”

Charles’ chest rose and fell beneath Max’s hand. Beneath that, Max could feel the other man’s heart racing. Max closed his eyes, breathed as deep as he could through his nose like he had always been taught, and out slowly through his mouth. He focused on the warmth of Charles’ chest as it moved up and down.

Max’s heart still burned uncomfortably, but it had begun to slow down to a semi-normal speed. He could now breathe without choking on air. He slowly retracted his hand from Charles’ chest, and used it to rub at his chest with his knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, “I didn’t—”

“Shh, it’s fine. You have nothing to apologise for. Do you feel okay to stand up?”

Max nodded. “I wanna rinse my mouth.”

Charles’ eyes widened. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

Max gripped onto Charles’ outstretched arm and with dual effort Max was hauled to his feet. He swished some water around in his mouth while Charles stood behind him, silent and steady like a guard dog. After that, Charles guided him carefully with a hand on his arm to the bed.

The next fifteen minutes or so were strange. The both of them got ready for bed in silence; not quite the uncomfortable silence that had plagued them all day, but still anticipatory, like they both had things they wanted to say and were just waiting for the right moment.

Charles helped Max pick out pyjamas and brush his teeth. Normally Max would have protested against the babying, but he kept his mouth shut. It was kind of nice, not having to really think about things too hard, just letting Charles take the reigns.

When they were finally both tucked into bed, Max knew they couldn’t put off talking any longer. Charles seemed to think the same. He opened his mouth to speak, but Max beat him to it.

“I’m really sorry. For what I said.”

Charles gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. “I, um— thank you. I mean, it’s fine. It’s not that big of a deal anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” Max said. “What I said— that was not right. I didn’t even really mean it, you know, which is not really an excuse, it’s just— I just wanted to hurt you back.”

Charles bit his lip. “I know. I know that now. Thank you, for the apology.”

Max nodded.

“I’m sorry too. For what I said. For driving off like that.”

Max shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Charles said, shaking his head. “It was immature of me. I’ve been acting like a coward all day.”

“A coward.”

Charles nodded. He chewed on his lip some more, eyes darting around the room like he was carefully assembling his words. He took a deep breath in before finally speaking. “I guess I just— wasn’t sure where we stood. After last night. I mean, all the f*cking feelings I was feeling were scary, you know? I mean, I feel a lot. I cry when I’m sad, but also when I’m mad, and happy, and— Pierre used to tease me for it a lot.”

“Dick,” Max muttered.

Charles snorted softly and continued. “It all happened so fast, you know? And I guess I didn’t give you a chance to express how you were feeling before I completely shut down. I didn’t know how you would react. I was worried you would be mad at me or, like, laugh in my face or something.”

It was Max’s turn to chuckle. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” Charles asked, looking slightly miffed.

“I began spiralling too, the minute I woke up and you wouldn’t look me in the eye. I was scared that you were feeling regret, that I had come on too strong or something.”

Charles laughed now, loud and clear. It was cliche, but Max thought it sounded like bells. “We’re both hopeless, aren’t we?”

Max smiled. “I guess so.”

It was silent for a few moments. Max glanced over at Charles and found the other man chewing on his lip again, deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

Charles sighed. “It’s just— please tell me to shut up if I’m like, pushing any boundaries.”

“You’re fine, Charles. Just say it.”

“I just want to know, what— happened? I mean, you didn’t really think I was going to leave you here, right?”

Oh. Yeah. It had probably been only a matter of time before the topic came up.

Max picked at a hangnail, focusing on anywhere but Charles' face as he began to speak. “It’s kind of a long story. I get those sometimes; panic attacks. I haven’t had one in a long time. They just happen when something triggers some weird memory that I wish I could forget.”

“What memory was it this time?”

“When I was— I don’t even remember how old I was. 12, maybe? I did poorly in a karting race, and my dad was really mad. On the drive home he didn’t want to speak to me, but I kept trying to anyway. I was a pretty clinical racer; if I did something wrong in a karting race, I wanted to dissect what went wrong until there was nothing left to dissect, so I wouldn’t do it again. My dad would indulge me after the fact, but when he was freshly mad, he wanted nothing to do with me.”

Charles reached out and cautiously took one of Max’s hands in his. Max let him, and felt instantly more calm as Charles’ thumb began running back and forth across the back of his hand.

“So on the drive back from this race, I kept trying to talk to him, and he got angrier and angrier until finally, he pulled into a gas station and told me to get out. He drove away and left me there, and I had to call my mom to come get me. She was furious, of course. That was one of the last karting races I ever participated in.”

Charles was squeezing his hand now. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s alright,” Max said. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

“No, I— I shouldn’t have left you there like that. I’m sorry.”

Max shook his head. “You didn’t really know I was going to react like that. You had every right to want some time to cool off. Rationally, I knew you would be coming back, but that part of my brain just— wasn’t in command at the time.”

“Still.” Charles squeezed his hand again. “I feel bad.”

“Don’t. Or you’ll make me feel worse.”

“I guess we can’t have that.”

Max smiled. “That’s right. Now get some sleep, we’ve got an early start tomorrow.” He burrowed down in the sheets, letting his head sink into the pillow. He turned on his side so he could watch Charles.

Charles mirrored Max’s actions. He pulled the duvet up to his nose, and blinked at Max in the dark. “Did you set your alarm this time?”

Max barked out a laugh. “Yes, I remembered this time. 7:30 a.m, sharp.”

Charles closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh of resignation. “We’ll have to come back to Chicago, all right? I didn’t even get to see the Art Institute, or the big, reflective bean.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to make that happen,” Max said, grinning.

Charles blinked his eyes open again. “Could I— could I hold you?”

Max blinked back in surprise. “Yeah. Sure.”

Charles shuffled forward, and opened up his arms. Max went gladly. Charles wrapped his arms around Max’s torso, and Max could feel the sigh Charles let out as he rested his chin on the crown of Max’s head.

The warmth of Charles’ body heat was intoxicating, and the pressure of his hold like a weighted blanket, steady and secure. Max buried his nose into Charles’ chest and let his breaths even out bit by bit.

There was a lot more they needed to talk about. They had left things on a rather ambiguous note; hadn’t even ventured into discussing what happened the night before and what that meant for the last few days of the trip and what would happen once they got to Boston. Max had to ask where Charles stood with Pierre, whether this could actually be something or if it was just rebound sex.

Max kind of hoped it wasn’t that, but he was scared to get his hopes up.

Max was under no delusion that everything was going to be sunshine and rainbows from here on. Yellowstone, as lovely as it was, had been a bubble, and now they had to rejoin the real world.

The real world, however, could wait for tomorrow. For now, Max let himself drift off in the warm safety of Charles’ arms.

Notes:

as usual, follow me on tumblr @illusoriess for updates and just to talk to me :) i like friends!
(also i just wanted to say, this chapter is exactly 5,000 words i'm pretty sure, which is fun)

Honey, Hell is when I fight with you - illusories (2024)

Chapter 1: San Francisco, California

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Chapter 2: Carson City, Nevada

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Chapter 3: West Wendover, Nevada

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Chapter 4: Salt Lake City, Utah

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Chapter 5: Yellowstone Natl. Park, Wyoming

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Chapter 6: Douglas, Wyoming

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Chapter 7: Kearney, Nebraska

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Chapter 8: Chicago, Illinois

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