End Game (Charles Leclerc x Max Verstappen)

Getaway Car

Max Verstappen

Holy shit if this isn't the most stressful thing I have ever done in my entire life, other than kissing Charlie for the first time and telling our friends, but even that is debatable. 

"Chéri, calme toi. You are okay, it is okay." Charlie's voice is soothing as he sits in bed, hair still messy and eyes half glazed with sleep as he wraps the duvet around his shoulder, eyes following me as I pace rapidly.

"Charlie, schat, I really want to believe you but this could be the entire defining moment of my career." My voice rises with each word, panic threatening to consume me. "I- fuck I don't know. My dad's here." For some reason those three words seem to explain the entire severity of the situation, even though that's the least of my problems. 

Charles stands, socked feet barely making sound until he is standing directly in front of me, hands resting on my own to stop my pacing. "Max. Max look at me, please?" His voice is strained and I hate how he's having to deal with my shit when he's already upset enough about qualifying seventh, fucking Ferrari is going to steam role his career if they don't get their shit together. "I know. But it is like this. Now all you can do is drive through it. I know you can, Sassy and Jimmy know you can, lord Max everyone in the fucking world knows you can, otherwise why would they feel so threatened about Lewis' win." 

It feels like I finally take a full breath for the first time since waking up in a cold sweat half an hour ago. 

"Chéri," Charles starts again, "You know I hate to say this but, if we do not leave soon you will not have time for your pre-race rituals. It is already almost 6:30."

The fact that leaving after 6:30 will make us late kind of makes me hate my life, just a little bit, because I am absolutely not a morning person. I know it's my own fault, I have an insane number of things that I need to do before even my own team arrives to feel prepared for the day's race, but I can't help it. 

Charles stretches up, pressing a light kiss to my lips before scampering towards the bathroom and jumping into the shower. I desperately want to follow him, letting sex and the warm spray wash away all my worries, but I've already showered and we really don't have time. The mechanics and engineers will be there by 8 and I really want some time with Charlie at the Redbull garage. 

Thirty minutes later I'm miraculously pulling into the parking lot beside Charlie's car, a few media are already here but haven't been let in yet, thank god, so I only have to hide for a few minutes. I hate this. I hate how Charlie and I have to drive separate cars and arrive a few minutes between us so we don't cause more rumours. Fuck them. 

I make it past the small swarm of media, pulling my hat farther down and pretending to block out the nearly non-existent sun in hopes of ruining some paparazzi pictures. Walking into my driver's room I spot Charles, he's lying on the floor in a stretched out starfish position. What the hell?

"Schat?" I question gently, hoping not to scare him with my arrival. "Why are you lying on the floor like a lunatic?"

"Hmm?" He mumbles, barely bothering to raise his head from the ground, but props himself on his elbows when I raise a questioning brow at him. "What? It is comfortable. Fuck off and go read your tea leaves or whatever."

I laugh, moving past him and gently nudging his hip with my foot, before starting the kettle. He's wrong about the tea leaves though, I'm not that superstitious, but a cup of chamomile tea does wonders to calm my nerves. The mantras and manifestation are for later. 

We sit, or in Charlie's case lie, in silence for a while, both of us popping in our earbuds and content to just not be alone. It's nearly eight when Charles finally gets up from the floor, rudely interrupting my meditation podcast by pressing a kiss to my mouth. There go any calm, rational thoughts, now I just want to kiss him more.