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Charles had woken up that day feeling out of sorts. Just an overall sense of being off. Not bad, but not great either. And definitely that’s not how you want to feel during a race weekend, when you have so many commitments besides driving on an incredibly competitive sport when all you want to do is lay on your nest and nap. But still, he somehow manages to power through most of the commitments he has scheduled for the media on Thursday.
But the feeling persists throughout the day, skin itching and tight with something he can’t name, so once he manages to get away from Silvia and the endless list of media obligations, he lets his feet carry him wherever it is they want to take him, trusting them to carry him somewhere safe and comfortable. It isn’t until he hears his name being called that he actually pays attention to where he is.
And he’s not meant to be in the Red Bull garage, sticking out like a sore thumb in his red Ferrari shirt among a sea of navy blue.
Wide eyed he turns around to look at Christian, who had called his name repeatedly.
“Charles?”
How did he end up here? Why would he unintentionally walk in on their competitors’ garage?
“Max isn’t here.” The older alpha informs him.
And why would Charles care for that? He wasn’t here for Max, although it makes sense that the alpha thought that, given that there’s literally no reason for him to be here at all.
“I—” He stops himself. What is he going to say? ‘ Sorry I came here, didn’t know where I was going’? Yeah, that won’t make him look dumb at all.
“You can wait for him in his room, if you’d like.” Christian offers.
And what a weird thing to offer, too. Why would the Team Principal be offering him such a thing? Charles isn’t a usual guest at the Red Bull garage or at their Hospitality, and while he and Max are friendly with each other, they aren’t close enough for Christian to extend such an offer.
What is weirder though is Charles accepting said offer without much of a second thought.
“The room is in the back, I’m sure you’ll be able to find it.” Christian gives him a small reassuring smile before turning his attention back to one of the engineers.
Charles decides to ignore the odd looks he receives and makes his way to where he instinctively knows Max’s room is, since at the end of the day all garages are designed similarly. Once he’s finally inside the small room, back pressed against the closed door, eyes falling shut as he fills his lungs with the alpha’s scent: warm black tea with hints of rain.
His muscles go lax, shoulders finally dropping and it’s then that Charles realizes how tense he’s been all day and how this is what he’s been craving for since he woke up that morning. Comfort.
And he found it in Max’s scent.
Without thinking too hard on why that is (which very much involves his crush on the blond alpha) and what consequences his actions could have (which can’t be that many since Christian Horner himself has given him permission to be there, after all), he makes himself at home on the uncomfortable black couch, one pillow clutched to his chest as he lays on his side, eyes closed and focusing only in the comforting scent, feeling safe enough for his mind to go blank and for his body to completely relax.
The moment he steps foot into the garage, Max can feel all eyes on him.
Why is everyone at the garage giving him looks? Does he have something in his face? Is his shirt on backwards? Max is pretty confident if that were the case Vicky would have informed him and wouldn’t have let him do any of the media engagements he had just done, besides he has a pretty good relationship with his engineers so he knows they would let him know if he did have something on his face. So why are they all acting weird?
He decides to ignore them for the time being, making his way to his backroom for some rest before he heads to the Energy Station to grab some lunch, maybe have a chat with Daniel if he manages to catch him around the paddock.
The closer he got to his room, the more he understood why they were all giving him weird looks. The sweet scent of red apple with a hint of cinnamon has no business being all around here, nor should be getting stronger the closer he gets to his room.
Why was Charles in his room? And why did nobody tell him anything?
Frowning at not knowing what’s going on, he enters the room and is met with the sight of Charles curled up the uncomfortable couch, a pillow clutched to his chest, napping.
Not wanting to expose the omega to the rest of the team, he quickly and quietly closes the door and makes his way towards the couch, kneeling down so that way he isn’t towering over Charles once he wakes him up.
Despite the very uncomfortable position he’s in, Charles looks at peace, no wrinkles on his face and Max almost feels guilty when he softly touches the skin of his exposed cheek to wake him up.
Eventually Charles begins to stir awake.
“Max?” The omega asks, name pronounced with a heavy accent and voice still riddled with sleep. How long has Charles been asleep on his uncomfortable couch?
“Hey.” With a lot of regret, Max takes his hand back, no longer caressing the soft skin of the omega’s cheek.
“Wha—” it finally dawns on Charles, apparently, that all of this isn’t quite normal. He groans, hiding his face in the pillow still in his arms. “Mon dieu,” it comes out muffled but still clear enough for Max to understand. Charles comes up from his hiding place, sitting cross legged on the couch. Max stays kneeling down. “I’m so sorry,” Charles announces with regret. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I didn’t mean to come here at all! And this is your space but Christian said it was okay, and I—”
On one hand, Max now knows who let the omega come into his driver’s room, and on the other Max is sure if he doesn’t stop Charles, the omega is going to pass out for lack of breathing or stank up his drivers room with his anxiety.
“Charles,” he calls him a bit forcefully, his hands coming up to rest on the omega’s knees to force him to focus on something else, blue eyes firmly set on green ones. “I’m not mad.”
Charles frowns, not understanding. “You’re not?”
The omega is sure if an alpha made himself at home in Charles' room without his permission he would be pissed (unless that alpha is Max, but that’s not here nor there).
“I’m not.” He reassured him. “I am confused though,” he sits down on his ass, crossing his legs to give his knees a break from the hard floor. He stays close, though, looking up at the omega still on the couch. “Were you looking for me? Did you need something?”
“I—” he shakes his head. “I don’t need anything, and I— I wasn’t looking for you, either.” Charles admits with a bit of shame, cheeks coloring red with embarrassment.
“Then why are you here?” There’s no malice in his voice, just plain curiosity.
Charles looks down at his hands, fingertips picking at his bracelets, a nervous tick of his. “I don’t know,” he admits.
“Charles.” Max doesn’t continue until the omega’s green eyes are looking back at him. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” He frowns, wondering if he has to get in a fight with someone, or to yell at a few people that made Charles feel bad.
Charles shakes his head, dark curls flopping around. “Nothing happened. I just— I don’t know,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I woke up not really feeling like myself today, wanting to stay in my nest all day but I can’t because it’s a race weekend,” Charles informs him and belatedly realizes that Max probably doesn’t want to hear any of this, doesn’t really care but the omega can’t seem to stop. “I just wanted to get away from Silvia and the media and I didn’t know where I was going until Christian talked to me. He thought I was looking for you, but I wasn’t, but then he told me I could wait for you here and I couldn’t say no, and when I walked in here I was finally able to relax. I guess I got a bit too relaxed.” He finishes with an awkward laugh.
Max just hums in response.
Max wasn’t really expecting Charles to find comfort in his scent or to feel safe enough to fall asleep in the alpha’s space. But at the same time it doesn’t really surprise him, they have known each other for half their lives, and while they haven’t always been close friends, Charles’ scent is familiar enough to Max to calm him down in moments where he feels anxious or left out around the other drivers. Seems to be it works the same way with Charles, even though the omega isn’t aware of it.
Charles nibbles on his bottom lip before he looks at the alpha in front of him. “I’m truly sorry for coming here without permission and falling asleep, the place probably stinks with my scent.”
“I don’t mind.” He replies honestly.
Charles tilts his head to the side, face scrunched up with a frown and voice tinted with confusion as he asks, “You don’t?”
Max simply shakes his head no.
“Why?” He asks, almost desperate. “I invaded your space, my scent is all over the place. I told you I wanted my nest but I’m here instead, that— that means something” Charles shakes his head. “Why don’t you mind?”
“Do you want me to be mad?” Max asks curiously.
“No, but other alphas would be.” He answers with a bit of sadness.
Charles likes his teammate, truly, and they are close and friendly, but whenever he had gone to Carlos seeking comfort, the other alpha had always been awkward and stiff, and never liked to leave his scent on Charles. And the omega gets it, he really does, but it is still a bit hurtful. So he’s a bit confused as to why Max is so nonchalant about the whole thing.
“Charles,” the alpha says his name so softly, almost fond, that Charles has to fight the urge to do something stupid like to take off Max’s cap and run his fingers through the blond strands or to run his thumb over that tiny freckle on the alpha’s full lips. “I feel honored that you came here when you weren’t feeling well and finding comfort in my scent, conscious decision or not. I mean you are here, in my space as a replacement for your nest on a comforting level, that’s huge and I don’t take that honor for granted.” He admits, and to Charles it sounds almost reverently.
Charles almost feels like crying.
“And I think your scent is lovely.”
God, Charles was already halfway in love with the alpha in front of him, has been for a while, and here Max is, telling him he feels honored that the omega had chosen his space to unwind and rest and telling him that his scent is lovely. Lovely! Max thinks his scent is lovely!
And the thing is, he knows Max isn’t lying or just saying these things for the sake of saying them, to just comfort the omega for the sake of it. It’s not the case. Charles has known the alpha for half their lives, knows he’s always blunt, saying whatever it’s on his mind and not playing mind games with double meanings.
Charles sighs, chest filled with fondness as he says, “You are not like other alphas, are you?”
It’s more of a comment for himself, but Max replies anyway. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
Charles hates with a passion the way the alpha sounds so self deprecating, and Charles can’t have that, not when he knows how good of a person Max is, how he cares for his people, for the charities he supports, he was even a good stepfather to the daughter of his former girlfriend. And that’s why Charles loses the fight against his urges and gently cradles the alpha’s face, thumb caressing the rosy cheek twice.
“It’s a good thing, trust me.” Charles smiles at him, and he can tell he looks a bit too fond, feelings showing up a bit too much. He withdraws his hand, shaking himself out of his stupor. “I guess I should go, Silvia is probably looking for me.”
“Before you go,” Max starts, stretching himself across the floor to reach for his backpack. Once he’s back to sitting cross legged in front of the omega, he stretches his hand, offering him something.“Take this with you.”
On instinct, Charles takes it in his own hands, inspecting what he was being offered. A sweatshirt, his brain supplies after he has turned it over on his hands, soft and of a light gray color, clearly well loved. Drenched in Max’s warm black tea with hints of rain scent. Charles has to resist the urge to bury his face in it.
“Why?” He softly whispers.
He wants to put on the sweatshirt, bury his nose in it and have his own sweet scent be intertwined with the alpha’s. But if he does so, people will talk. Cameras will be pointed at him, microphones shoved to his face and rumors will spread like wildfire through Twitter. And it all will be a lie, because Charles knows Max doesn’t want to mark him, doesn’t want to send a message of their status as courting pair, of Charles being officially off the market.
None of that is real.
Max is only being kind. Too kind.
“My scent made you feel relaxed, no? You should take it, to feel better.” Max simply says.
Charles stares at him for a second, brain shutting down before he brusquely states, “Max, you can’t just give me this.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one we are still in the paddock and people will talk.” He states as if it were obvious.
Max shrugs his shoulders, truly not caring about the implications of what this could mean. “So?”
Charles’ face contours, frown deepening. “Max, I know you’re trying to be nice, and that you would do this for Lando or—or Daniel, but I’m not like them. I— these things mean something to me.” He shoves the sweatshirt into the alpha’s chest. “Take it. I— I cannot have it.”
Max stares at the omega, then back at the outstretched arm holding his own gray piece of clothing, then back up to lock eyes with Charles’s green ones. He had somehow managed to insult the omega, causing him distress when he should still be floating in happy pheromones after having had a nap in a safe place surrounded by Max’s scent.
The only solution is to be as blunt as he possibly can — Max’s favorite way of communicating.
“Charles,” he starts, taking back his sweatshirt, “you’re right, I would let Lando and Daniel nap here if they’d asked, and I would give them something with my scent for them to take to their nests if they want me to.” Charles tries not to flinch at the statement, to not show how much it hurt him.
But maybe he wasn’t able to cool his features, because Max is quick to add, “I’d do it because they are my friends. But that’s not what’s happening here,” he firmly states. “I’m not giving you my clothes for you to take back to your nest. I want you to wear it now as you leave back to Ferrari, I want my scent on you the same way I want yours to stay here for as long as possible.”
Charles can’t believe what he’s hearing.
Is Max trying to say what the omega thinks he’s trying to say? Is the alpha actually admitting that he wants to publicly claim Charles as his own? Just like that?
He has never known Max to speak in riddles, to say one thing and mean another one. There’s never been subtext with Max, always upfront about everything he says and means. So this can only mean one thing.
Charles gulps down, uncertainty and hope rising within his chest, trying to dominate how he should feel. “Do you mean it?” His voice is soft, eyes unsure — daring to hope like he’s never had before.
Max’s eyes and voice don’t waver as he replies honestly, “I do.”
And what can Charles do but to launch himself into the surprised alpha, sending both of them tumbling down to the floor. The omega’s crossed arms behind Max’s head softening the hit.
He looks down at the alpha, who has a startled look on his face but the beginning of a smile on his lips. And he has to ask, otherwise the hope he’s feeling inside will be the death of him.
Charles moves his hands to cradle Max’s face, thumbs grazing his cheekbones. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
‘Please, say yes’ he doesn’t say, but god, he was praying for a positive answer.
“If you want me, yeah.”
What is Charles supposed to do but grin like a maniac and lean down to pepper kisses around the entirety of the alpha’s face, making him laugh, body shaking with his happiness.
“Max.” He calls him after he’s done kissing every inch of skin available, without actually touching the other’s lips.
“Charlie.”
“How long?” He wonders.
“How long what?”
“How long have you wanted to ask me?”
Max looks him in the eye, and doesn’t hesitate when he answers, “I knew I wanted you to be mine the moment you came back to the racetrack after you presented.”
Charles feels his cheek flush, embarrassment and shock showing on his face as he sputters out, “We were fifteen.” The bewilderment he feels is obvious in his tone.
“I know.” He admits easily as if it isn’t one of the most shocking things Charles has ever heard in his life.
“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” He asks curiously.
“You deserved more than an angry kid.” He replies honestly, albeit a bit self-deprecating again, which Charles still very much hates “And you didn’t like me all that much for a long time.” He adds, making them both laugh.
Charles can’t deny that statement. Although he was attracted to Max back then, in a very childish kind of way, he still didn’t like him very much.
He leans forward, faces barely a breath away, “I like you plenty now.” He admits, pink coloring his cheeks.
“Good,” he states, hands resting on the omega’s thighs — hands that are never shy whenever they need to grab Charles’ waist in public, but somehow shy now when there’s no one looking. The duality of Max Verstappen, Charles thinks. “Because I’m not interested in letting you go.”
Charles smiles, dimples on full display, endeared by the alpha’s possessiveness. And can you blame him, really? Charles has always craved being wanted like this, and to find it that Max offers it so easily? There’s no better feeling than that.
“I don’t want you to.” He admits, before leaning down on and closing the gap between them, plush lips meeting his own.
It’s their first kiss and Charles hopes it’s the first of many. It’s sweet, short and chaste.
Lovely and perfect.
They smile at each other once they part, staying close and taking in the moment of what this means, of what’s being started right now. Charles grins, closing the distance once more.
They linger a bit more in this kiss, pressing a bit more forcefully, tongues shy as they graze each other's lips, tentatively asking for permission. They taste each other, warm tea mixing with Charles’ cinnamon, the perfect fall combination between them two.
It’s slow, trying to get acquainted with the other, how they feel and what they like. It’s exploratory and it feels perfect, if Charles does say so himself.
The wait was definitely worth it.
Once they break apart, Charles grabs the discarded sweatshirt as he fully sits up on Max’s thighs. With no shame whatsoever he brings it up to his nose, inhaling deeply and filling his lungs with the alpha’s scent.
“For your information,” he starts, accent heavy and voice muffled by the piece of clothing, “I’m never giving this back to you.”
“That’s okay.” Max agrees, relaxed and happy as he watches Charles put on the sweatshirt, his smaller frame being drowned in the item. “You can take all my clothes back to your nest if you want.”
Charles laughs happily, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Think about my nest a lot, Verstappen?” He teases, smirking a little bit.
“Yes.” Max admits without shame, making the omega blush some more.
Charles shakes his head, amused by the alpha’s bluntness. And he’s about to lean down to kiss him once again but there’s a shrieking sound that breaks through their moment, startling them both.
It takes him a moment to realize it’s his own phone, and without looking at it he knows who’s calling him, and probably not for the first time since it managed to break through the Do Not Disturb setting, signaling the end of his unscheduled break.
Charles is glad he got to have this at least. All of it.
“I have to go.” He announces regretfully, a small pout on his lips as the call comes to an end, still unanswered.
Max just hums in acknowledgment, not really knowing what to say in a situation such as this one. ‘I know you have to go but I want to keep you here forever, our careers be damned’ sound a bit too intense even for them.
“Are we— we are doing this, right?” Charles asks, a bit unsure as he points between them two. “You and I?”
“We are doing this for as long as you’ll have me.” Max replies honestly.
“Would you be scared if I say I want forever?”
“That’s even better, then.”
Charles shakes his head fondly. “You’re silly.” He leans down, kissing the alpha one more time. “Thank you. For everything.”
When Max smiles at him, blue eyes shining and his freckle stretched over full lips, Charles has to fight the urge to carve his way into the alpha’s chest and bury himself there.
“Thank you for trusting me.” He replies, leaning up to steal one last kiss.
Charles caresses the blond’s cheek before he stands up to gather his belongings (meaning his phone and cap) and helps Max stand up too.
Max lets him go with a kiss to his forehead and the promise that they will talk more after they are done with today’s duties.
Charles is almost out of the garage, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement in equal measure, when he hears his name being called out once again by Red Bull’s Team Principal.
“Did you find what you came looking for?” Christian asks, tone knowing but eyes still cautious.
The omega looks down, cheeks heating up a bit more. “I think I found more than I ever expected.” He replies sincerely, fingertips disappearing inside the sleeves of Max’s sweatshirt.
“Good.” Christian nods, and the omega knows he should take his leave but the older alpha looks like he wants to add something else. “If I may,” he starts, and Charles perks up, “I know it’s not my place to say anything, but Max— He’s a good kid, you know, and I don’t want to see him hurt.”
Charles knows Jos Verstappen is Max’s father, he has known the man for as long as he’s known Max. Charles has seen the man up close and had feared him growing up, knows the man would never be happy for Max no matter what he achieved and would always look at him as if he were a disappointment. Charles also knows Christian had taken Max under his wing the moment the young alpha had stepped into Formula 1, and Charles can’t help but think that the Team Principal has been more of a dad to Max in just a few years than Jos has ever been.
Looking at Christian now, the omega can even see some resemblance between the two blond alphas.
“I don’t want to hurt him.” He admits, not wanting to give off the wrong idea.
“I know,” Christian says placatingly. “I just— I see him as my own and I care about his happiness,” he admits. “And for the record, I think you two will be great together.”
Charles feels his cheeks grow hotter, unable to control how excited he feels at the prospect of his brand new relationship with Max. “I think so too.”
“Does this mean I can finally get you to drive for Red Bull?”
Charles barks out a laugh, happy with the Team Principal’s way of acceptance. “Ask me again in a year or two.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Christian claps him on the shoulder before walking away to engage in conversation with somebody else.
Charles doesn’t care that he has many cameras shoved in his face the moment that he steps out of the Red Bull garage, or that people look at him in a funny way for carrying a rival’s scent on him or that people will speculate like crazy on Twitter (which he plays into by liking a tweet with an edited photo of an excited Max that reads “guys, call me delulu but what if that’s Max’s sweatshirt 👀”) , or that Silvia rips him a new one the moment she set her eyes on him after a few hours of radio silence on his part.
How can he care about any of those things when he found what it feels is his happily ever after with Max? Not when Max wants him just as much Charles wants him, unashamedly and unapologetically.
So he goes out with part of his team in Mexico and tries spicy food like they wanted him to, and posts those pictures on instagram, Max’s sweatshirt present on every single one of those pictures.
Charles has never been more happy of waking up feeling off, of craving his nest and comfort, not when it had led him straight to Max.