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Charles has just about left the waxing salon when he sees an officer approaching his Ferrari Daytona SP3, parked halfway on the curb with practiced imprecision.
Well fuck.
“Officer, hello!” Charles says a bit too loud, smiling widely, “beautiful sunny day isn’t it?”
The man looks up from his notepad, ocean-blue eyes gleaming in the light. There’s a frown marring his pretty face, blonde hair flopping out from underneath his black cap. He taps his pen against the paper. “Sir, do you know you cannot park like this?”
He parts his lips in surprise, making sure to widen his eyes innocently. “Like this? Is something wrong with my car, Mister..?”
“Hm. Verstappen,” the man, Verstappen, says with a grunt. Charles wouldn’t mind making him grunt some more. “You’re partly on the curb, sir, that’s not allowed here.”
Charles bites his lip, looking down slightly so he has to peek up through his eyelashes. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, officer Verstappen, I can take my car away immediately.”
Verstappen’s eyes flick down to Charles’ mouth for a moment, before he grunts again. “Take it as a warning then.” He rips a piece of paper off the pad and holds it out for Charles to take. Right. Well, it’s better than a fine.
At least the piece of paper has officer Verstappen’s full name on it. Max’s full name.
He gives the officer a billion watt smile and winks. “Thank you, sir, I will be more careful next time.”
“Good,” Max says, giving him a curt nod. Charles thinks good boy would have sounded far better coming from his mouth, “have a good day, Mr. Leclerc.”
Ah. He recognised him then. Charles’ smile grows.
-
He sniffles as he holds Leo’s carrier close to chest, his soft whines breaking Charles’ heart. “It’s okay, bébé,” he coos, trying to comfort Leo as best as he can through the blanket thrown protectively over him.
Everything is still wet, the pour of rain now just a drizzle, manageable to walk through, but not good for the cast around Leo’s leg.
Charles’ expression shutters when he looks up at his Ferrari 488 Pista Spider, parked on an awkward angle over the white lines, and sees the same, handsome officer from a few days ago looking it over.
Max looks up when Charles approaches him, expression unreadable. Charles resists the urge to shrink in on himself. “Mr, Leclerc,” he greets neutrally.
“I’m sorry, officer, I know I promised to be better,” Charles mumbles out, the words awkward in his mouth. He feels pathetic and small, his exhausted face a blotchy red from crying. He hadn’t paid attention where he was parking, too panicked by Leo’s distressed cries. “L-Leo, he got hurt and I was in a hurry to get him to the doctor.”
He frowns down at the carrier in Charles’ arm, Leo softly whimpering inside it. Charles resists the urge to let him out, instead he holds him a little closer.
“What happened?” Max asks, a worried edge to his otherwise stern voice.
Charles shudders as a drop of rain slides down his neck. “We were out for a walk when Leo—” he breaks off, voice trembling, “when someone hit him with a scooter.”
Max’s eyebrows rise incredulously. “Oh the sidewalk?”
He nods tersely, looking down at his feet.
“Fuckers,” Max says. Charles lets out a startled, wet laugh. That’s not at all a word he expected to come from an on-duty officer. “Come on, let's get him inside so you can go home.”
Charles looks back up, blinking sluggishly. “You’re not going to give me a fine?”
“Nah, I would have done the same thing if one of my cats got hurt,” Max waves his hand, motioning Charles closer. He unlocks the car and Max holds the door open for him as he settles Leo’s carrier inside, strapping it down until it’s secured.
He wipes at his eyes when he leans back out, giving Max a grateful smile. “Thank you, sir, I appreciate you helping me with Leo, and about the fine, also.”
Max nods, readjusting his cap. “I’ll give just you a verbal warning this time, Mr. Leclerc,” he says before his voice softens slightly, “I’m sure Leo will recover just fine, if you’re the one taking care of him. You clearly love him a lot.”
Charles chuckles, wrapping his arms around his chest to try and warm himself up. “I do,” he says earnestly, looking at the carrier through the glass. “I truly am sorry for the trouble.”
“It’s fine, just try not to do it again or I’ll have to give you a fine next time, of course.” Max says, only half-serious.
His lips quirk up at the joke, and he nods. “Of course,” he agrees.
Max smiles at him, eyes creasing into half-moons. “Take care, Mr. Leclerc.”
Charles’ heart flutters.
-
He’s so late. Hopelessly late.
Pierre already called him twice before Charles made it out of the restaurant he’d eaten lunch at with his mom and brothers, something he was twenty minutes late to as well. To say that he’d forgotten they were due for a match of padel was an understatement.
He can’t help it that he’d lost his phone last week and forgot to sync up his personal agenda to the new one.
Charles almost trips over his feet when he sees a familiar back facing him, and an even more familiar cap facing his Ferrari SF90 Stradale, then frowns in confusion when he sees that it’s parked neatly within the white lines.
“Good afternoon, officer,” Charles pants slightly from sprinting over, “what seems to be the issue?”
Max turns around, eyes lighting up with recognition. “Ah, good afternoon Mr. Leclerc.” There’s a faint, amused smile on his lips. “Are you aware you have to pay to park here?”
He opens his mouth to reply, only to falter. Shit. No, he didn’t know. Charles grimaces and shakes his head. “No, I did not, sir,” he replies, trying not to groan.
“I thought so,” Max says with a chuckle. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you get away with it.” The this time is implied, but Charles hears it clearly.
“Are you going to arrest me, officer Verstappen?” Charles tries to joke, peering down at the handcuffs strapped to Max’s waist.
“No,” Max says simply, writing something down on his notepad, “you would like it too much.”
Charles lets out a wheezing laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. Max isn’t exactly wrong. There are many things he would let Max do to him with those handcuffs. “I can go then?” he asks, hopeful.
Max finally looks up at him. “Once I give you your fine, yes.”
He pouts, leaning forward and into Max’s space. “Officer, are you sure there isn’t something—anything—I can do to make you look the other way?” Charles purrs, giving Max a winning smile.
“I suppose there is,” he replies, tilting his head thoughtfully as Max glances down his body, and Charles perks up. “Oh, I know, you can pay your fine,” Max says and then winks.
Charles groans loudly and backs away as Max laughs to himself, looking awfully self-satisfied with his dumb joke. “Fineeee,” Charles tries not to whine, but Max looks delighted so he doesn’t mind as much. “Gimme the stupid ticket.”
Max holds out the strip of paper and Charles begrudgingly takes it, pocketing it with a sigh. “No handcuffs then?”
The laughter is worth it.
Pierre scolding him for being an hour late is too.
-
Really, Charles has no excuse.
He wasn’t late for anything. There was no emergency. No one was expecting him. All he did was get gelato, he could have walked the distance with ease, but no, he just had to go and be plainly stupid.
How the fuck did he not realised he had parked in a handicapped spot?
Charles drops his face into his hands, groaning miserably as his poor Porsche 991 is being towed away. Max’s hand pats his shoulder comfortingly before it settles there, warm and present. “Sorry, mate,” he apologises, “I didn’t know it was your car.”
He shakes his head. “It’s my own fault,” Charles mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, pouting when the towing truck rounds a corner and disappears from sight, “I should have seen the sign.”
Max nods. “True, you’re not wrong there.”
“You’re not supposed to agree with me,” Charles says with another groan. Max chuckles softly, squeezing his neck once before he lets go.
“Hey, you need a ride home?” Max asks gently, changing the topic.
Charles looks at him with wide eyes. “What?” he asks, voice slightly shrill, “Yes! —I mean, if you have time for it, of course.” He does not need a ride, it’s barely a five minute walk, but he’s absolutely not saying no to Max driving him anywhere.
“My shift just ended,” Max explains with a shrug, taking his cap off and letting it hang loosely from his fingers, “I might as well take you home so you don’t have to call anyone to pick you up.”
He nods, grinning eagerly. He knows his face must be flushed red. “Yes, please, I would like that.” Of course Charles would love for Max to take him home.
Max smiles back. “I don’t have a Ferrari—or a Porsche—, but I’m sure a Renault will do,” he jokes.
“Oh,” Charles licks his lips, “I’m sure it will do.”
Maybe he wasn’t that stupid after all.
-
Charles locks his Ferrari 275 as he rushes across the street, ignoring the angry shouting from a pedestrian as he bumps against them. When he gets to the door, he looks at his locked phone screen and runs his fingers through his hair, messing with it until it’s in his usual style. When he’s satisfied, he puts it away and rings the doorbell, already grinning.
“Hey,” Max says when he opens the door, smiling back. “I wasn't sure if you were still coming.”
He doesn’t take it to heart. He’s almost an hour late after all. “Yeah, sorry about that, I underestimated the traffic.”
Max’s eyes light up with sympathy. “Ah, you didn’t know there was a road blockage?”
Charles grimaces. “Non. I had to drive all the way back before I could get here.”
“Idiot,” Max says with a laugh, but it doesn’t sound mean, rather relieved, “next time just call me, okay?” Next time. Charles’ grin returns.
“I didn’t think an officer would approve of calling while driving,” he says cheekily.
He shakes his head, like he’s trying to hide how amused his smile is. “An officer wouldn’t, but I’m off duty.”
Oh, how Charles wants to kiss that mouth and that lip freckle. “Yeah, so I could have done it?”
Max chuckles. “No. Anyway, shall we get going?”
Right, of course. They’re already late for their dinner reservations. Charles doesn’t really care about the food as long as he gets to spend time with Max, but he does want to leave a good impression on their first date. He’s failing thus far.
He flounders a little as he gets out of the way of the door, sticks out his tongue when Max laughs, and then skips back down to the street.
The laughter gets louder when they cross the road, and Charles looks back at Max, frowning in confusion. “What?”
“Charles!” Max’s voice is distorted by how much he’s laughing, the joy written in the lines of his eyes. “Your car!”
When he turns back, he can see that his car is clearly not parked between the white lines, on top of that, it’s also partly on the curb. Charles groans in embarrassment.
His face feels hot. “Oh my god, I was in a hurry to get to you, okay!”
“I can see that,” Max teases, but he sounds fond, “you’re truly awful at parking.”
Charles pouts. “Yeah, well, you like me anyway.”
Max smiles at that, voice more serious now, “I do.”
Oh.
Maybe he hasn’t ruined his chances to wear those handcuffs tonight after all.
-
“Take a left turn and we should be there,” Charles says, leaning in to peer at the tiny screen of Max’s shitty, but inconspicuous, Renault. The dot goes around the corner as they turn, and their hotel comes into sight.
Max twists around in his seat as he slows down. “All spots seem to be taken,” he says as they drive around the parking lot.
He cranes his neck out of the window to look at the signs. “There’s a parking garage below the hotel,” he repeats what he had read on the website. “Oh, I see it. There.” Charles points at an entrance leading underground, half-hidden behind a row of cars.
They turn around and come to a halt in front of a bar gate that automatically opens for them.
“And you said giving them your number plate wouldn’t come in handy,” Charles says smugly. Max ignores him, but Charles can see him roll his eyes in his peripheral.
Charles checks his phone as Max impatiently backs the car up into an empty spot, smiling at a picture of Leo enthusiastically jumping up against Arthur his mom had sent him. He sends her a bunch of hearts before pocketing his phone. He moans as he gets out of the stuffy Renault, stretching his limbs out. “Fuck, finally,” he says with a smirk, looking over at Max.
His boyfriend laughs at his dramatics, and shakes his head in amusement. “Maybe if you didn’t sit like a pretzel, your back wouldn’t ache so much.”
“You can give me a nice, long massage later,” Charles suggests with a wink, rounding the front of the car before he stops in the middle of his tracks. “Oh my god,” he says with a gasp.
Max frowns in alarm. “What? Did you forget something?”
A wild grin forms on his face. “Come here, baby.” The frown deepens, but Max does as he’s told. “Look at your parking job,” Charles says, pulling Max in front of the car, the tyres crossing the white line at a diagonal angle.
His expression twists between horror and annoyance before settling on exasperation. “Fuck,” he mumbles, displeasure clear.
“You should fine yourself, Officer Verstappen,” Charles says with a purr, leaning in to press a kiss to Max’s cheek.
“Charles, you know I hate driving,” Max complains. Oh, he certainly knows. They’re opposites that way, Max prefers to be the passenger, and Charles prefers to drive even with how awful his parking can be, that’s why he’s delighted to see that Max can fuck it up too.
He chuckles. “Maybe if you weren’t awful with the nav we could switch around.” Charles couldn’t read the screen while driving so they were forced to switch around when Max gave him the wrong instructions. For the third time.
The face Max makes is worth all the teasing he’s had to endure. “Shut up, physical maps are so much easier to use than these stupid things.”
“You’re a disaster,” Charles grins, looping his arms around Max’s neck.
Max pouts, settling his hands on Charles’ hips to pull them flush. “So are you, baby.”
Charles can’t disagree. “Yeah, but I’m yours,” he murmurs, slotting their lips together in a soft kiss. It did net him a very handsome boyfriend with a hot uniform and very nice handcuffs, after all. And hopefully, soon a fiancé.
He can feel Max’s fond smile. “You’re right, my perfect pretty parking disaster.”