𝐒 𝐏 𝐑 𝐈 𝐍 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 [max verstappen x oc]

twenty-two

The night was quiet and the streets were empty. Lena and Max had been walking for what felt like hours, though he had assured her it had been only ten minutes. 

"How long have you lived in Monaco." Max asked, kicking a pebble in front of him on the sidewalk while Lena walked in the center of the road. 

She thought. "Three and a half years this August. What about you?"

"Nine years."

"Jesus christ. You're Dutch and still more of a local than me?" Lena laughed, wincing slightly at the pain from her heels. 

Max shrugged. "I don't speak the language. You do. I'd say you fit in much better."

Lena shrugged back and smiled at him through the light from the street lamp. "You're a funny guy, you know? I don't like that you cover it up with all you asshole-ness."

"Asshole-ness isn't a word."

She groaned. "See? That. I made a joke and then you turned it serious--mood-killer."

Max looked amused. "Well, I'm sorry. I'll try not to ruin your mood."

"Thank you." Lena raised an eyebrow as they turned onto the street. "Why are you walking me home? You didn't have to..."

Max swallowed. "I wanted to make sure you got home safe. I didn't want anything to happen to you."

Lena smiled. "Max Verstappen. That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." She took a few steps closer to him and bumped Max on the hip as they walked side by side. "Starting to sound like a real gentlemen."

"I am a gentlemen. My last girlfriend said I was the 'ultimate gentlemen'. She broke up with me, though, so I don't know how true that is." He looked solemn by the end of his words and Lena's face dropped slowly. 

"I'm sorry about your breakup." She said sincerely. "I don't know the details but...I don't know. I'm sorry that it ended."

Max snorted. "I'm not. Glad it's over, if I'm being honest. I loved her but I felt like things became so superficial at the end. Like I was playing a part."

"Isn't most of your job just playing a role?" Lena questioned. "Big, bad, Formula One guy who everyone hates because he's so good? You have to pretend to be the villian, does that not bother you?"

He was silent for a moment after he thought. "No. Not at all, actually. I'm winning, I don't care how they portray me."

That made Lena smile and she laughed to herself as she looked to the ground. "I like you. You're funny."

"So you've mentioned."

"Just take the compliment, Verstappen. You're not going to get that many."

"On the contrary, Augustine, I think I'll make you work a little harder for it."

Their hands brushed together, sending a chill up her spine. 

"You won't make me do anything." She pointed up at him. "Especially 'work harder'. I hate work."

Max laughed, a deep sound that came from his chest. "I can tell."

They were nearing her apartment, and Lena felt ashamed that she wished they weren't.

Lena brushed her hand near his again, this time deliberately as an experiment and she pretended not to notice the way his breath hitched and his body reacted to it. Was Lena going crazy? What was happening and why couldn't she bring herself to talk to him. 

"This is me." Lena stopped in front of the door to her house, suddenly aware of how crappy it must look to a three time world champion. "Shitty, I know. But it's all I can really afford, if I'm being honest."

Max looked up at it. "It looks amazing. Not shitty at all."

Do you want to come inside and take a look? Lena knew she couldn't say that but every bone in her body begged her to. She couldn't fight the urges inside her telling her to grab him by the shirt and press her lips against his. Lena hated his smug face so much she wanted to shut him up the only way she knew how. God, the thought of him on top of her, skin against skin made her nearly faint on the sidewalk. 

"Lena?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Mhm?"

Max shuffled nervously. "Uh...Well, thank you for letting me walk you home."

Lena decided to be brave and touch his shoulder lightly. "Thank you for walking me. And inviting me, technically."

"Sorry we didn't meet on the dance floor." Max looked sheepish, but Lena figured he was joking. 

"Another time." She smiled. 

Max nodded. "Yes, another time."

Silence. They stood in front of eachother, inches apart, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Lena had extra height standing on the curb while Max stood on the street. He looked tall and manly in front of her--his arms filling out the sleeves of his shirt perfectly and his hair ruffled just the way Lena liked. Such an odd feeling it was, to have hated a man for so long that now the mere thought of him sparks such emotion that is nearly impossible to distinguish between hate and lust. Did Lena was to fight him or fuck him? She couldn't tell, all she knew was that she didn't want him to go away and she wanted to feel his hands on her. 

As if by manifestation or magic, one of Max's hands reached up, gently taking her jawline as his thumb smoothed her skin. His other hand carefully came and rested on her waist, a familiar position that never failed to make Lena's stomach flip. They were closer together now, barely an inch, and she could feel his breathing, see his chest rising and falling as his hands created fevers on her skin. All one of them had to do was lean forward and their lips would touch. Just a small reach...

"Max."

"Mmm."

She glanced at his blue eyes, shining so bright in the moonlight. Lena opened her mouth to say something, anything, but closed it. 

This is a bad idea. 

One last inhale of his scent, Lena stepped back, letting Max's hands fall back to hang by his sides while she gripped her shoulders in the cold. 

"Goodnight, Max."

He looked completely dumbfounded, with no clue what to do, but slowly gained his composure back. "Goodnight, Lena. I--I'm sorry, I'm not sure what--"

"It's fine, Max. Go home. Thank you for walking me." Lena said as kindly as possible before turning and walking away, mostly because she knew if she'd stayed one second longer she might've embraced him and done a lot worse. 

She left Max standing in the street while she went back to her home and locked the door, running a hand on her jaw and smiling to herself. What a horribly deliciously bad idea this was, wasn't it?