#if you haven't seen this f2 race i implore you to

[verstappentime]

Max mutes the TV, hoping that will get Charles's attention, and doesn't look at him when he says, "I think I'm in love with Daniel." AKA: it's 2017. charles is max's best friend in the whole world. they're turning 20, max wins in malaysia, charles wins the f2 championship, and max needs to tell him something. also: a little coming of age precursor to my unfinished maxiel divorce fic.

maxiel + max & charles | hurt/comfort & dealing with their respective hard years | 3.4k

Max has not gotten to hug Charles in so long. That's what he's thinking when he stumbles down from the podium.

Just a few minutes ago, he was livid at Prema and their stupid safety car cockup. Then he was elated as Charles crossed the finish line, and he triple checked the points to confirm – he really is champion. Now, Max just wants to see him, desperately.

Someone takes the bottle of champagne from Charles, and Max makes his move, crashing bodily into him. Charles isn't like him – he doesn't freeze, just wraps both arms around Max and hangs on. 

He had been worried about Charles not having family here. But he's reminded, as that feeling of coming home blooms, that he does now. 

Neither of them say anything for a beat. Then Max, newly bigger and broader than Charles, hefts him up and spins him around and they both start screaming. "Charles Marc Herve Perceval Leclerc–" Max stops to breathe. "You are the motherfucking 2017 F2 champion!"

Charles is breathless. He looks the happiest Max has seen him in four months. "Oh my god. Holy shit."

Charles has won a lot of championships in his life. But this one means the most. They both know it. 

Max sets him down. "Was that the French anthem?" 

Charles nods, pained. They manage to stay straight-faced for about five seconds.

It takes them a good two minutes to stop laughing. Max's ribcage actually hurts.

"I am so glad my dad was not here to see that," Charles says, once he's done gasping for air.  His smile twitches, though. Max pulls him back in for a hug.

"I am so proud of you, okay?" He presses his nose into Charles's hair, even though he's sticky all over with champagne. Herve would be proud, too, but Max will tell him that later, in private. 

Charles clings on. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it."

"Of course I made it. Did you hear what I said?" 

"Yeah." Charles's voice sounds wet. Max just keeps hugging him. "Thank you." 

"I mean it. You are so fucking crazy, oh my god," Max continues. "I don't know how you did that." Max had nearly looked away, that last lap with five cars on the back of him, not wanting to see Charles lose his win. Stupid to bet against him.

"I didn't lift the throttle," Charles says. His shoulders are shaking. Max can't tell if he's laughing or crying, but he thinks it's the second one. Max doesn't let go, incase he doesn't want anyone to see.

"Your tires were, like, a banana." 

"I know. I thought probably I would bin it." It's Charles who finally pulls back. He rubs his face with his sleeve, and Max wonders if he knows he's just smearing champagne around.

"I sent some videos to your mom, of the podium. I muted them." It gets Charles to laugh again. Max has more to say. He isn't good with words. "You're going to get the seat," he says. Maybe he shouldn't. But he's never been more certain. "You're going to race with me next year." 

"Better watch out, I guess," Charles says. 

&&&

Max got them a fancy hotel room. Having a lot of money is still weird, but he likes to spend it on stuff like this. He likes comfortable beds and having a lot of space and a big shower. He likes being able to bring Charles with him. 

It has two queen beds, even though he's shared a bed with Charles a thousand times before. He thought it would be nice. 

They're crowded on the same one for now, Max watching the history channel with subtitles on and Charles curled on his side, fucking around on his phone. He's getting congratulations from everyone he knows. Charles is popular. It's a lot of people.

After the sprint tomorrow, they'll find something to celebrate, but for now it's good to just. Be around someone who knows how to be around him. 

Max mutes the TV, hoping that will get Charles's attention, and doesn't look at him when he says, "I think I'm in love with Daniel." 

He's been wanting and wanting to tell Charles. He thought maybe when they both got back to Monaco. But it keeps trying to jump out of his throat, like he swallowed a fly or something.

He's never been nervous to tell him anything before, but as soon as it's out, his heart starts beating fast. Charles is taking too long to say something.

"Okay," Charles says, finally. He pushes himself up to sit beside Max. "That's okay."

Charles likes boys. Max has known this since they were twelve. But Max has only ever had a fleeting interest in anyone, and it's never been important, and– and now Daniel is important, and he has to think about it all. He doesn't want to.

"I don't know about being gay or whatever," he says. He still isn't looking at Charles. "I don't know if I am."

He's had sex with girls and he'd liked some of it but maybe not enough. He's had one weird hookup with a guy, a friend of Charles from school or something, after their birthday party last year. He liked that more but he was drunk and sleepy and they called it off after he sucked the guy's dick. Charles had been pissed that it happened while he was sleeping on the couch in the same flat and never asked Max any questions about it. He didn't want to dissect it then and he doesn't now. He just – liked that guy's dick, and he likes Daniel.

He knows what he likes to look at and think about, but only things in real life matter. 

"Okay," Charles says again. His voice is careful. "That's fine. We can skip that." There's a hand, gentle on his wrist. "I knew there was something going on with you." 

Max has been a little off, he knows that. He wants to talk about Daniel all the time and he's worried that he'll do it too much, so sometimes he just doesn't say anything. Charles asks about his day and he tries to sum it up: The team went to this, the team went to that. I'm tired. It was a long day. The car is shit. The car isn't shit. Something something. Charles has asked if he's okay. Max has been trying to be okay whenever Charles asks, this year. 

"I don't know if I– if I'm in love with him," he says, and his voice cracks. He finally lets himself look at Charles, needing, suddenly, to see acceptance on his face. He's the same as always, big green eyes soft. Max tries to say the next part quickly. "I know he's older than me and stuff. I don't want it to be true but I think it is." 

Charles moves so he's sitting in front of Max, criss-cross, and squeezes his ankle. "It's okay if it's true. You'll figure it out. I'll help."

"I think it's true," Max says. He wants to cry. 

"It's okay if you like him. It's good to love someone." Charles keeps his hand on Max's ankle. Touch has always been instinctual for him. Max has never been like that. "I wish you weren't hiding this from me."

"I wanted to tell you. I was waiting." 

"You told me now. It's okay." 

"It feels weird," Max says. He is really hoping he doesn't cry. He can't be crying over his teammate. He has to see him in a few days, at the factory. 

"It is weird," Charles says. He was always in love, when they were kids. Max never was. 

"I used to think I was in love with you. When we were like, thirteen," Max says. He can say it now because he knows it's not true.

"Yeah, I know." Charles is grinning at him. It's the way he looks when everything's going to be okay. "You were always staring at me with your weird bug eyes." 

"I just thought maybe," Max says, and he coughs out a laugh. "But then I realised you are so annoying and I didn't want to kiss you." 

"And you do love me," Charles says, shrugging. "That's different. Do you want to kiss Daniel?" 

That's easy. "Yes. I want to so much. And always I want him to talk to me and be near me and I get jealous if he's not. Or when we go to these things and he doesn't have time for me. And if he helps me with my helmet or something I want to throw up." 

"But it feels nice too, yeah?" Charles is searching his face. 

"Yeah. It feels nice." 

"Okay. Then it's a good thing." A lot of the time, Max feels like he's too old for everyone his age. But Charles has grown up a lot the past three years. He looks so much older than nearly twenty, right now. Calm and sure. It's soothing. It's that grating two weeks where they're not the same age. But maybe Max can be the younger one for a moment. 

"I want it to be a good thing," he says, and he sounds small and more unsure than he ever hears himself.

"You aren't not telling me stuff, right?" Charles lays his hand on Max's shoulder. "Max? Because of– because of Papa and everything?"

"I—" He's just trying to be okay when Charles asks. He doesn't know how to say that. I would die before I would make this worse for you, maybe. He chews at the cuticle on his thumb. "I haven't told anyone," he says, lamely. Charles just keeps watching him. He doesn't move his hand. He looks like he's caught Max doing something he shouldn't. "You had a championship to focus on," Max tries. 

"I won it now. So now you will talk to me, yes?" 

"Yeah." Max swallows. He'll have to. He wants to talk about Daniel all the fucking time. He's not that strong. He tries to let Charles's touch be comforting. He's in love with Daniel and someone knows. Charles knows. He wants to hear more about it. He's not angry. It's good. It should feel good. "Can you tell me how it's okay again?" He's needed to hear it so long. So, so long. 

Charles looks sad. "Come here." He untangles himself so he can flop onto his back. It's been a long time since they could do this, since Max could curl up perpendicular with his head in Charles's lap. It's nice and he didn't want to ask for it. 

Maybe if he has a boyfriend one day they won't do this anymore. He wants one but only if it's Daniel. Maybe Daniel won't care. 

Charles scratches his scalp, the way his mom does, when he's too tired to even talk with her when he comes home. Probably Charles did it first. He didn't see his mom for a long time. "It's okay," Charles says. "It's okay. It's a good thing, Max." 

He breathes. Daniel is a good thing. Max will be able to talk about it now. That's going to be better. Maybe it can feel like something new growing in his chest instead of something festering. "It's stupid," he says, just so Charles will tell him it isn't.

Charles says, "Loving someone is never stupid." He hesitates for a second. "I keep– all the time thinking about how life is short. You know. Because Jules– and Papa– It's. What's the word in English? Like I am obsessed?" 

Max's chest tightens. He wishes he could see him. Charles doesn't see life as fair or unfair, but Max does, and Charles hurting is fucking unfair. "Yeah, that's the word," he says.

"Anyway," Charles says, after a long, shaky moment. "All the time, I think about it. And I think if you love someone it is going to be a waste of time to pretend that you don't, or say it's stupid." 

He sounds grown up. Really, really grown up. He sounds right, like Max should trust him, the blind way a child does. "Okay," he says, quiet, like a secret. "I might not tell him though."

Charles starts petting his hair again. Max really hopes he hasn't made him sad. "What about Malaysia?" he asks, and he sounds normal. "Was it fun, with him?" 

Max tells him about the day of his real  birthday, about how they couldn't go out because of the race the next day but the team brought him a cake. It was Daniel who brought it out to him. Maybe it was his idea, Max doesn't know. But he looked happy. He said something about how it would be nice not to have a teenage teammate anymore, but not in a mean way. It felt like he was excited about Max's birthday, too.

"And everyone was so happy that I won," Max says. "Daniel was, even though he didn't win. He said it was like a birthday present, except for I earned it." Max's dad has been angry at him, about the season being shit. The win wasn't good enough for him and he didn't call, but his mom had been really happy, and Daniel had, too, and Christian, and GP. Charles had called. It was nice. It felt good, when Daniel hugged him and said he'd done an incredible job.

"You both looked really happy on the podium," Charles says. "You have some nice pictures now." 

"I saved them in my phone," Max admits. They do look really happy. He thinks sometimes he's the happiest he's been, when he's around Daniel. Winning, and with Daniel. He feels bad thinking it, when he's here with Charles– but it's different. Love feels different. 

Charles doesn't say it's weird or anything. "Good. Then you can look at them." 

He peppers Max with questions about their night out on Sunday, for his birthday and for the double podium. He talks about how they had an expensive team dinner and GP said some nice stuff about him before they had another cake. Charles stops him. "What kind of stuff?" 

"I don't know. Like about how all of his wins have been with me and it's special." He'd said how Max is really kind off the track and people don't always know that. He'd said he's the most talented driver he's known, and Max had thought maybe that was unfair, because Daniel was sitting there, but it had felt– really good. He doesn't want to tell Charles all of it. That can be his to keep.

Charles hums. "Okay, and then what?" 

"Me and Daniel and some of the guys went out to a club. You would have liked it. I– I wanted to kiss him a lot. The whole time. But I didn't. But it was good. I liked that he was there." Max feels around for his phone, unlocks it and passes it up to Charles. "You can look at the pictures. Some of them are funny." 

"I will kill you if there's nudes in here," Charles says. Max reaches back to wack him on the arm. 

"There are no fucking–" 

"I don't know, Max, I'm pretty sure that is a dick." Charles sounds deadly serious.

Max flips himself over. He doesn't even have time to panic before he sees the wicked grin on Charles's face, and lunges at him.

"Give me that, you shithead, oh my god–" Charles holds the phone aloft so Max can't get it. 

"Oh, hey." Charles bats at Max, half-hearted. "Daniel texted you." 

"No he didn't, you fucking liar." Max pushes himself up so they're level. Charles looks thoughtful, squinting at the screen like he's reading something. Maybe he's not– "Charles. Come on. It's not funny." 

Charles passes the phone to him. He's smiling. "I think I like him very much." 

There is, after all, a text from Daniel. It's a picture of his laptop screen. It's got the F2 race on, Charles in P1, with the whole pack behind him, just before the finish line. INSANE race, mate!! Tell him congrats from me!! That's my ROTY vote in the bag!! We are screwed when he comes to F1 tho. Hope you're having fun, England wet and boring.

Daniel likes exclamation points a lot. He likes making texts longer than they maybe have to be, and adding irrelevant details at the end. Max didn't ask about England. But he likes that Daniel wants him to know. He likes that Daniel watched Charles's race, and acknowledges how fucking good he is. He likes Daniel so, so much.

"That was nice," Max says. It sounds stupid.

"Text him back," Charles says. "Tell him I am the best driver in the whole world, and if he sends nudes you can show those to me." 

Max glares. "I will tell him your IQ is seven, so he doesn't have to worry." 

"I don't even know what that means," Charles says, but he sing-songs it, which means he's pretending. He speaks English perfectly fine, until Max is insulting him.

Max ignores him. He tries to sound normal in his response, like he hasn't just confessed he's in love with Daniel outloud for the first time ever.

Charles says thnx!! Prema are stupid idiots, I cannot believe he won. Glad I made it. Be in MK Monday, think of a good prank for GP. He wants to put a heart, but that feels stupid. It's just. He wants Daniel to know.

Something new happened today. Something changed. You changed me. You might never know, but you did. He can't communicate that with a fucking emoji.

Eventually, he puts three little race cars and the tranquil looking smiley face, and passes the phone back to Charles. 

Charles flips through the pictures without being a fucking dick. He laughs at the ones of Max eating limes at the bar, because he was fucked up and thought that's what they were for. Daniel snapped one of Max passed out in the taxi that Charles sends to himself. "I will think of a use for it later, there is a joke there," he says.

"You're annoying," Max says, but doesn't protest. It will probably be funny.

Charles scrolls some more. "Max," he says, quiet and serious. "Did you see this one?" 

When he gives Max the phone, there's a picture of him and Daniel on the screen. His forehead is pressed against Daniel's shoulder, Daniel's hand light on his back. They're laughing, and they look really, really happy. "I didn't look at the ones with Daniel. I didn't know if– if maybe they were embarrassing." Max presses his thumb to the picture, like he could transfer himself back into that moment.

"They're not embarrassing," Charles says. "It just looks like you love him." 

&&& 

Prema fucks up again, and Charles is P7 on Sunday. Neither of them care. Max takes him out for his birthday. He's a world champion. Even if it's been hard to carve out good moments this year, it's a fucking good one.

Charles hugs him extra tight when he leaves for the airport, hungover and dreading going round and round in the sim. "You'll talk to me," Charles says, not a question. 

"I will. Promise." Max pulls him back in for another hug. "I'm so fucking proud of you. Just–" It's hard to leave him every time. To think about the bad days coming and going without Max there. But Charles has other friends. He has his family. "Just. I'll see you soon." 

Charles presses his face against Max's shoulder, just for a second, and then he lets go. He doesn't like to say goodbye, and it's not for that long anyway, so he doesn't. 

Later, Charles texts him a screenshot. It's of a guy who sort of look like Robin Williams but isn't. There's movie captions on it. Our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. He always does stuff like this. Sends Max quotes and sports highlights and things, little bits of wisdom anywhere he can find them. Max likes to text all the time, but mostly stupid shit. Charles is always with the drama. 

This one, though. He sits in his plane seat and reads it a few more times. Charles writes underneath: Not stupid. Don't ignore it ❤️❤️

Max reads it again. The not-Robin-Williams guy isn't wrong.

He sends back: I'll try, and makes the picture of him and Daniel his background.