𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 ~𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛

Chapter 5: Royal Hangovers

It all started with a bad idea. Or rather, a Pierre Gasly idea. Which, in Charles’ experience, amounted to the same thing.

“Come on, Charles, you need to let loose! We’ll go to the club, have a couple drinks, dance—nothing too crazy,” Pierre had said, with his signature grin that always spelled trouble.

Charles, however, knew better. “We’re not allowed, Pierre,” he said, leaning back in his chair as they lounged in his room. “Dad would have a heart attack if he found out. And Max would probably handcuff me to a chair before I even made it to the door.”

Pierre waved his hand dismissively, like Charles’ concerns were nothing more than background noise. “Please. We’re just going out for one night. Besides, you’ve got Max. What’s the point of having a bodyguard if he can’t look the other way every once in a while?”

“Look the other way?” Charles raised an eyebrow. “He’s basically a walking security camera.”

“Which is exactly why we need to get you out of this stuffy palace before you forget how to have fun,” Pierre declared, standing up and grabbing Charles by the wrist. “Let’s go! What’s the worst that could happen?”

As it turned out, a lot.

Fast forward a few hours, and Charles was at one of Monaco’s more discreet clubs, Pierre beside him, the music pulsing, and an assortment of drinks laid out in front of them. Max, of course, was there too, lurking in the shadows like the overprotective sentinel he was, his arms crossed and his expression as unreadable as ever. Charles had caught Max’s disapproving look when they walked in, but somehow, Pierre had convinced him that "just a few drinks" wouldn’t hurt.

That was two hours ago. Now, Charles was three drinks in, and those "few drinks" had become a lot more drinks. To Pierre’s credit, he was still holding it together, but Charles? Charles was a different story.

“Pierre,” Charles slurred, throwing an arm around his best friend’s shoulders. “I… I think I’m a little drunk.”

Pierre laughed, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “You think?”

Charles giggled—actually giggled—and leaned in closer, his forehead pressing against Pierre’s temple. “Shhh. Max will hear you.”

Pierre glanced over at Max, who was still standing by the wall, his eyes never leaving Charles. “Oh, I think Max already knows, mate.”

Charles squinted over at Max, his vision a little blurry, but even in his tipsy state, he could see the unmistakable "I’m so done with this" look on Max’s face.

“He’s so… serious,” Charles muttered, a lazy smile pulling at his lips. “All the time. Always so serious.”

“Yeah, well, he’s your bodyguard. It’s kind of his job,” Pierre said, taking a sip of his drink. “But hey, maybe he’ll loosen up if you dance with him. You’re a prince. People do whatever you want, right?”

Charles’ eyes widened like Pierre had just unlocked the universe’s greatest secret. “You’re right. I should dance with Max.”

Pierre choked on his drink. “Wait, no, I wasn’t being serious—”

But Charles was already on his feet, wobbling slightly as he made his way over to where Max was stationed, a look of pure determination on his face. Max, sensing the incoming chaos, straightened up, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Max!” Charles called out, his voice a little too loud for the intimate setting of the club. “Come on, we’re going to dance.”

Max blinked, clearly not expecting this. “I’m not here to dance, Your Highness. I’m here to keep you out of trouble.”

“But dancing is fun!” Charles insisted, grabbing Max by the arm. “And you need to have fun. You’re always standing there, all… all broody and… handsome.”

Max froze at the word “handsome,” his eyes widening just a fraction. “You’re drunk.”

“I am not,” Charles said, swaying slightly as he tried to pull Max toward the dance floor. “Okay, maybe a little. But that’s the best time to dance! Come on, Maxxy, you’ll like it.”

Max glanced over at Pierre, who was no help at all, doubled over with laughter from across the room. Clearly, Charles was not going to be stopped by logic tonight, so Max sighed, giving in. “Alright, but only for a minute. And then we’re going home.”

Charles beamed up at him. “That’s the spirit!”

Before Max could fully regret his life choices, Charles had dragged him into the middle of the floor. The music was loud, the lights flashing, and Charles was swaying in time to the beat—or at least, his approximation of the beat, which was a little… off.

“See?” Charles said, grinning up at Max. “Isn’t this fun?”

Max, still as stiff as a board, glanced around, making sure no one was getting too close. “You’re having fun. I’m trying to make sure you don’t fall over.”

Charles laughed again and stumbled a little, but Max’s hand shot out, steadying him. “You always catch me,” Charles mumbled, looking up at Max with an expression that was far too soft for someone who was supposed to be annoyed.

Max cleared his throat, trying to focus on anything other than the way Charles was looking at him right now. “That’s my job.”

Charles leaned in, resting his head against Max’s shoulder, his voice barely audible over the music. “I like when you catch me.”

Max froze. This was getting dangerous territory. “Charles, you’re drunk.”

“I know,” Charles muttered, sounding almost wistful. “But I still mean it.”

Max, feeling a strange warmth creeping into his chest, gently peeled Charles off him. “Okay, that’s enough for tonight. We’re going home.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Max said firmly, steering Charles toward the exit. “Let’s go before you do something you’ll really regret tomorrow.”

As they made their way outside, Pierre followed behind, still laughing at the entire situation. “This might be my best idea yet.”

Max shot him a look that could melt steel. “Remind me to keep you as far away from Charles as possible next time.”

Pierre just grinned. “You know you love me.”

Max, now with a very wobbly Charles leaning heavily on him, shook his head. “That’s… debatable.”

When they finally made it back to the palace, Max helped Charles into his room, guiding him to the bed. Charles flopped down onto the mattress, his limbs splayed out like a starfish, still grinning up at Max.

“You’re so good to me,” Charles mumbled, his eyes half-closed. “Even when I’m a mess.”

Max sighed, pulling the blankets over him. “Get some sleep, Charles. You’re going to feel terrible in the morning.”

“Will you still be here?” Charles asked, his voice soft and sleepy now.

Max hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

Charles smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. “Good. I like having you around.”

Max stood there for a moment, watching as Charles drifted off to sleep, his breathing evening out. And despite himself, Max couldn’t help but smile a little.

“You’re a mess,” he muttered to himself, “but I think I’m getting used to it.”