Chapter Text
Charles looked like an angel when he slept. Max had thought it the first time he’d woken up next to the Monegasque, three and half years ago now. The morning after they’d first spent the night together was the first time Max had the luxury of really looking at Charles while he slept, the younger driver’s face illuminated by the soft morning light.
He’d never told Charles this, of course – Max had never been great at expressing his feelings, let alone his romantic feelings, but he did his best. And Charles always had a way of understanding the words Max was too scared or self-conscious to say. He never made Max feel like his inability to express his feelings made him any less deserving of love; always made sure Max knew that he was enough for Charles exactly the way he was.
And now, the summer break of the 2023 season was almost halfway up, and Max was still reeling from the drama of the last few weeks: he and Charles banding together on a mission to get Lando and Oscar to admit their feelings for each-other, roping in Logan Sargeant, who was an arrogant prick on a good day but Oscar’s best friend nonetheless. Mission Landoscar, as they’d called it, had had its fair share of dramatic roadblocks but ended with Lando declaring his love for Oscar in the middle of a storm. Despite its low points, Charles and Max had chalked the mission up as a resounding success. But seeing his best friend fight for Oscar tooth and nail and end up so happy with the Australian rookie had solidified something else in Max’s mind: that he couldn’t think of anything in life he was more grateful for than Charles.
Which was why there was now an engagement ring, with a gem the color of the Monaco sea and the words ‘thank you’ engraved on the inside, tucked away in the safe in Max’s closet. And that was also why Max was now watching Charles’ face as he slept, while he impatiently waited for Lando to call him back.
When his phone eventually buzzed, he slid out of bed quietly and slipped onto their balcony, taking care to close the sliding doors fully so he’d hear it if Charles decided to wake up and look for him.
“Hey, mate,” Lando said, his grin coming into full view. He was clearly laying on his bed, and in classic form, wearing a hoodie despite the summer weather. Well, Oscar’s hoodie, judging by the ‘81’ emblazoned on the front. Lando’s image shook as he adjusted himself on the bed, and Max soon saw the reason for his movement – Oscar’s bedhead hair peeked out from the corner of the screen where he was curled up and fast asleep on Lando’s chest.
“Took you long enough to call me back,” Max said.
“Well, I keep my phone on silent,” Lando chuckled. “Don’t want to wake him up.”
It was a running joke now, how much Oscar loved sleeping and hated being woken up prematurely.
“So, I kind of… have some news,” Max said, clearing his throat and instantly regretting how formal he sounded. He really hadn’t quite mastered the whole ‘talking about sentimental topics in broad daylight’ thing.
“Oooh, mysterious,” Lando teased. “You’ve been hinting at something for a while, you gotta let me guess what it is.”
Max snorted as Lando leaned back on the headboard with a cheeky grin.
“Okay, let’s see… you’ve decided to skip the next four races to give me a shot at a win?” Lando asked.
He quirked an unimpressed eyebrow.
“You’ve decided to… skip the next three races to give me a shot at a win?”
Lando wagged his eyebrows expectantly while Max frowned.
“The next two races—”
“Lando.”
“Oh, oh, oh, Pierre and Ocon are ditching Alpine and leaving the team with no drivers going into the second half of the season?” Lando continued, looking much too excited by that prospect. Max scoffed, knowing how much Lando hated Alpine after what they’d done to Oscar the year prior.
“No.”
“Okay, this is becoming less and less exciting,” Lando grumbled.
“Lando,” Max deadpanned. “No, I… I’m proposing to Charles.”
And then a lot of things happened at once. Lando’s face exploded into a beaming grin a mile wide, and he let out what could only be described as a squeal, throwing the hand that was not holding his phone up in celebration.
“OH MY GOD!” he screamed, the force of the noise reverberating through Max’s iPhone. He almost expected Lando’s voice to carry across the mile and a half that separated them in Monaco, and he was especially grateful that he’d shut his sliding door because the sound definitely would have woken Charles.
What Lando’s scream did do, however, was wake up the very sleepy Aussie on his chest, whose eyes flung open as he was yeeted halfway across the bed from Lando’s full-body bouncing.
“What are you doing!”
“Sorry!” Lando squeaked apologetically.
And then a decidedly very frowny rookie came into view, hair poking out in every direction as he glared at the screen like an angry cat. Lando and Max exchanged a brief glance and Max nodded, giving Lando silent permission to spill the beans. He knew even now that Lando and Oscar were serious, and therefore anything he told Lando he expected would make its way to Oscar. Just like anything Max knew, Charles knew too. There were no secrets between them.
Except for this, of course.
“Max is gonna propose to Charles,” Lando whispered excitedly.
Oscar blinked back at him calmly, expression unchanged, and it was times like this Max really considered what polar opposites the two McLaren drivers were.
“Oh,” Oscar said through his frown, managing to sound both congratulatory and matter-of-fact in one word.
“Did you already know?” Lando asked Oscar, shooting Max a betrayed glare.
Max and Oscar both shook their heads immediately.
“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Max said.
Oscar shrugged. “I didn’t know, but I mean, it makes sense.”
Lando huffed, but his eyes turned soft as Oscar curled into his side, and the Brit maneuvered the phone so his other arm could wrap itself around Oscar’s shoulder as they settled down to talk to Max.
“Okay, so, what’s the plan?” Lando asked. “I call dibs on being best man, by the way.”
Max rolled his eyes, even though that much was a given. He’d decided it already: Lando would be his best man and GP would walk him down the aisle. If there was an aisle. The wedding ceremony would go however Charles wanted it to go – aisle or not, big or small, Monaco or Antarctica. Max wasn’t picky, as long as Charles was happy.
The proposal, on the other hand, was Max’s to plan. And he was adamant about not fucking it up. It had to be perfect.
As Lando and Oscar watched on, the latter still blinking sleep out of his eyes, Max described to them what he had planned. He was aware that his voice sounded uncharacteristically tentative, but he also knew why: he couldn’t fuck this proposal up.
Charles loved Corsica, the little island off France’s coast where he spent many vacations as a child. They’d been on holiday there once, the summer they got together, and whenever Charles recounted his favorite memories with Max he always brought up that first sunset they’d watched together from a small boat off the island harbor. Max remembered it well – how they’d both felt so at peace.
So it was only logical to Max that he take things full circle and propose on a boat in Corsica, at sunset. He knew Charles would want his loved ones close to celebrate their news, so he planned to invite their best friends there on a mini vacation to help Max make the day perfect, because despite his confidence on track, this was something too important for him to risk taking on alone. He’d invite Pierre, of course, and Carlos too. Lando and Oscar. And Charles’ brother, Arthur.
“Fuck, I can’t come,” Oscar said, pulling a regretful face. “I’m heading to Australia in a few days, to spend the last week of break with my family.”
Lando pouted immediately and Oscar chuckled softly at his boyfriend’s expression.
“Do you have to go? It’s not fair,” Lando whined. He pressed a playful kiss to Oscar’s cheek, and then his nose, then his forehead. The rookie giggled in the way he only did around Lando and swatted at his chest bashfully.
“Stop,” he laughed. “You know my dad will kill me if I don’t,” he turned to Max, “Sorry, though, I’d love to help.”
“It’s alright,” Max shrugged.
“You know who’s already vacationing in Corsica right now, though?” Oscar asked.
Max frowned as Lando’s eyes widened in realization.
“Who?”
“Logan,” Oscar said. “His family has a vacation home there. He’s been there since break started.”
Lando groaned. “Of course he has.”
Max chuckled, thinking back to only a month ago when he knew Logan Sargeant only as one of the rookies on the grid, and a very arrogant, flirtatious, and blatantly patriotic one at that. Max had never even spoken to the guy before he and Charles became invested in getting Lando and Oscar together. Logan had driven Charles – and, by extension Max – half insane with his Ken doll confidence and flirtatious snark, but Max and Charles had seen how protective he was of Oscar, how loyal he was to the Aussie when Lando had inadvertently hurt him and caused a whole ripple of consequence.
Not only that, but a handy discovery they’d all made during the whole fiasco was that Logan had a piping hot crush on none other than Arthur Leclerc. Charles, in classic Charles fashion, had taken it upon himself to instigate the Mission Larthur group chat, enlisting Max, Lando, and Oscar to mastermind yet another matchmaking attempt. The mission had been simmering for a while but hadn’t quite taken flight with Logan having been in Corsica all summer.
“It would be a great opportunity to get him and Arthur to spend some time together,” Oscar suggested, wagging his eyebrows with a smirk. “You know how committed Charles is to Mission Larthur, so you’d really be doing him a favor too. And this trip is all about Charles, after all.”
Lando and Max both snorted in unison, and Oscar responded with a deadpan stare.
“Besides, he knows Corsica really well, so he’d be able to help,” Oscar said, keeping his tone painfully factual. The Aussie was like Max that way. Blunt, objective.
“Fine,” Max said. “I’ll invite him, but if he gets on Charles’ nerves, I’ll let Daniel take my Red Bull seat and offer to drive for Williams myself to punt him back into F2.”
Oscar shrugged. “Fine with me.”
“One more thing,” Max said, lowering his voice and glancing towards the sliding doors to make sure Charles was still asleep.
“I need you to keep the ring,” he continued. “It’s sitting in my safe right now, but I had to change the code because Charles knew the old one. And he’ll… he’ll know something’s up if I tell him the code’s changed. So, you need to keep the ring so I can change the code back.”
Lando’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”
“You need to keep it safe,” Max said. “If you can’t, you need to tell me, because—”
“I can!” Lando insisted, pouting.
“I was going to ask Arthur at first, because—”
“No!” Lando interrupted. “I can keep it safe. I promise.”
Max swallowed, looking at Lando’s pleading gaze.
“You can trust me,” Lando insisted, looking almost worried.
Max nodded. Yeah. He could trust Lando. He was his best friend. Things were unfolding well. Everything would be fine. He could make it perfect for Charles. He would make it perfect.
“It’s going to go great, Max,” Oscar said softly, as if sensing his trepidation. Beside him, Lando’s gaze sobered and the Brit looked at him with a frown.
“You know he’ll say yes,” Lando said, tilting his head. “It’ll be perfect, mate. We’ll all make sure of it. We got you.”
“Yeah,” Max sighed. “He deserves for it to be perfect.”
“It will be,” Lando said, smiling like a promise.
Private chat: Max Verstappen and Lando Norris
Lando: Can I do it?!?!?
Lando: You’ve invited everyone now right??
Lando: It’s GAME TIME BABY
Lando: Come on I’ve been waiting to do this for AGES
Lando: Maxxxx
Max: Fine
Lando Norris created a group chat
Lando Norris added Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, Pierre Gasly, Logan Sargeant, and Arthur Leclerc to the group chat
Lando renamed the group chat Lestappen Proposal Planners
Lando: Woooooooo
Lando: Hello party peopleeeee
Lando: My brethren
Lando: Is brethren a word?
Lando: My autocorrect is telling me it isn’t
Max: I already regret this
Lando: It’S FRIDAYYYY THENNN
Logan: …
Logan: Hard pass
Logan Sargeant left Lestappen Proposal Planners
Lando Norris added Logan Sargeant to Lestappen Proposal Planners
Logan Sargeant left Lestappen Proposal Planners
Lando Norris added Logan Sargeant to Lestappen Proposal Planners
Lando: SARGEANT DON’T YOU DARE
Logan Sargeant left Lestappen Proposal Planners
Oscar Piastri added Logan Sargeant to Lestappen Proposal Planners
Lando: Are you kidding me
Lando: You stay when Oscar adds you but not when I add you?
Logan: He’s better looking than you
Lando Norris removed Logan Sargeant from Lestappen Proposal Planners
Lando: Okay anyway, what was I saying?
Pierre: You were saying “it’s Friday then”
Pierre: But it’s not Friday
Lando: Thank you for that truly groundbreaking observation, Pierre
Pierre: Wow 1 minute in and you’re already bullying me
Oscar: According to the timestamps it’s actually been 7 minutes
Carlos: @Pierre And you started the bullying
Lando: :)))))
Lando: I love having double backup
Pierre: I hate you all
Lando: I HAVE SUMMONED YOU ALL HERE TODAY
Lando: Because we have been called to fulfill a very important, cannot-be-screwed-up, extremely high stakes mission
Lando: Wait
Lando: Oh shit
Lando Norris added Logan Sargeant to Lestappen Proposal Planners
Logan: So close
Lando: You literally AGREED to this
Logan: I consented to helping with the proposal, not to this clown show you’re apparently running
Pierre: Can I leave too
Lando: @Pierre, no you can’t this is not optional
Lando: And Charles is YOUR best friend so sit down
Lando: I HAVE SUMMONED YOU ALL HERE TODAY
Lando: FOR THE LESTAPPEN PROPOSAL
Logan: Yes we all fucking know this
Lando: Sargeant can you shut up
Logan: @Oscar your boyfriend is threatening me
Oscar: That’s neither new nor surprising
Logan: Wow, hoes before bros huh
Lando: EXCUSE ME
Max: LANDO WILL YOU FOCUS FOR FUCK’S SAKE
Carlos: Oooooooo
Pierre: Oooooh Max never uses all caps
Lando: OK I’M SORRY MAX
Lando: I have this under control
Lando: Listen you ungrateful toads
Lando: Max is proposing to Charles in Corsica and everything must be PERFECT
Arthur: It WILL be perfect
Arthur: Charles will love it :)
Lando: Thank you Arthur!! that’s the energy we need
Carlos: Max’s jet leaves at what time on Sunday again?
Arthur: 9am right? Charles texted me about it
Lando: Uh
Carlos: And the proposal is on the third night?
Lando: Uhhh
Lando: We are checking
Carlos: …Why do you sound like Ferrari?
Pierre: Carlos is having war flashbacks
Lando: I actually don’t know any of the details lol @Max?
Oscar: The Ferrari strategy vibes are not inspiring confidence
Lando: :((((
Lando: You’re supposed to be on my side
Oscar: I am, I was just stating a fact
Max: @Lando I forwarded you all the flights and hotel reservations
Lando: What
Max: I literally texted you yesterday about this?
Max: I told you to forward everyone the email with the plan
Lando: Right
Lando: Yeah so I didn’t do that
Logan: Clearly
Oscar: I have the email pulled up and I’m forwarding it to everyone now
Oscar: You all meet at 8:30am on the runway, proposal’s on the third night, yacht will pick you all up at the harbor after dinner, right in time for sunset. Max will be proposing on said yacht. Lando has the camera to take photos.
Oscar: I have also included a weather forecast in the email, but long story short it should be perfectly sunny the next week. Bring sunscreen
Pierre: @Lando at least you chose a smart one
Lando: @Oscar thank you baby :) Safe flight home
Oscar: Yeah boarding now <3
Logan: Ah, what a privilege it is to behold young love
Lando: @Logan I will yeet you into Turn 1 at Zandvoort
Private chat: Max Verstappen and Oscar Piastri
Max: How much can I pay you not to go to Australia
Oscar: You’ll have to fight all of my sisters and they don’t play nice
Max: Ffs
Oscar: Sending prayers
Lestappen Proposal Planners
Lando: As the lead proposal planner my visual inspo for the Lestappen proposal scene is Jack and Rose on the bow of the Titanic
Lando: It’s perfect because Charles is basically Rose but a man
Pierre: Isn’t that the scene where she falls off the boat and he grabs her
Carlos: No it’s when the boat is sinking and they grab on to the bow while everyone falls to their deaths around them
Lando: No no no
Lando: Wait there was definitely another scene on the bow right
Carlos: Idk I’ve never watched the whole movie
Pierre: Me neither
Max: To be clear, there will be no falling off the boat or dying during this proposal
Lando: Right
Lando: MOVING ON
Lando: We need music during the proposal
Lando: To set the mood
Lando: @Arthur can you play the piano
Arthur: No, just Charles
Lando: Ok then maybe Charles can play the piano
Pierre: You want Charles to play the piano while he’s being proposed to?
Carlos: …On a yacht?
Lando: Ok don’t knock down my ideas we are BRAINSTORMING
Logan: You’ve had exclusively terrible ideas
Private chat: Max Verstappen and Lando Norris
Lando: Don’t worry I’ve got everything under control
Lando: It’s going great
Lando: The creative juices are really flowing
Max: I’m not worried
Lestappen Proposal Planners
Arthur: I play the French horn
Lando: Oooh maybe a French horn solo then??
Logan: What is this, a coronation?
Carlos: The goal is for Charles to say yes, cabron
Pierre: Can we nominate a different lead proposal planner
Logan: Yeah what about someone who’s not Lando
Lando: It can’t be my fault that none of you play a remotely romantic musical instrument
Private chat: Max Verstappen and Oscar Piastri
Max: How many sisters do you have?
Oscar: Three
Max: I can take them
Despite Lando’s frenetic group chat efforts, they all got to Corsica in one piece. Charles had been chattering away in the front seat of Max’s jet – affectionately nicknamed Air Max – for the entirety of the trip, and the Dutchman couldn’t help but feel his chest swell with affection for the Monegasque as the younger driver rattled on and on to Carlos and Pierre about all the things in Corsica he couldn’t wait to show them.
When they arrived at the hotel – luxury, 5-star, beachside, Max did not skimp on this one – he found himself studying Charles’ face closely as he opened the door to their suite, where he’d planned a little treat for him. He hadn’t felt this nervous around the Monegasque in a while, not since they’d first gotten together. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why his heart was hammering in his chest like it was – it was a foreign feeling, of late, given his confidence on the racetrack and in their relationship.
But Charles’ reaction didn’t disappoint.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, his eyes widening almost comically. His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he bounded into the room with a skip to his step, approaching the large grand piano that graced the center of the suite’s living area.
“You like?” Max asked, trying to ignore the almost crushing wave of relief that flooded his body at Charles’ smile.
“I love it,” Charles said in awe, playing a few notes experimentally. Happiness was radiating off him in waves. “I’m going to play every day.”
“The walls are soundproof, so you can play at night, too,” Max said.
The younger driver had always talked about how the one thing he missed most on vacations was a piano. Charles loved playing the piano on weekend mornings, and Max had grown used to waking up to the comforting sound of his boyfriend’s fingers on the keys, the lilting melodies he gravitated towards. Max’s apartment was too small for a grand piano, but he’d bought an upright piano for his living room as a present to Charles for their two-year anniversary. The image of Charles’ eyes lighting up that day had been burned into Max’s mind for all these years, so one of the first things he did when he booked this hotel was pull some strings – i.e. pay a lot of money – to get the staff to procure the best grand piano they could get their hands on for their room.
“Are you okay, cheri?” Charles asked, frowning.
Max blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah. Why?”
“You look… distracted?” Charles asked, tilting his head.
Max blinked again, inwardly cursing himself for letting his nerves show.
“I’m fine, just… tired from the flight,” he lied through his teeth. Max pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss to distract him and Charles went easily, smiling against the Dutchman’s lips.
Charles’ hands came up to cup Max’s face, deepening the kiss. Max felt heat pool in his belly, ignoring the brief embarrassment at how quickly Charles could get him worked up. But even still, Max’s head wasn’t entirely there – part of him was still thinking through their itinerary for the day that he’d meticulously planned.
“W-we have… reservations for dinner. At six—"
“We can be quick,” Charles whispered against his lips as one hand crept up under Max’s shirt, sending a shiver down his spine. He spun Max around before he could protest, pressing him up against the piano. But Max didn’t need any more convincing, instead helping Charles shrug off his jacket and shirt, and then removing his own.
As Charles lifted Max up onto the piano to get more purchase, the Dutchman let out an indignant sound when his backside hit a few of the piano keys.
“Soundproof walls, right?” Charles asked.
Max nodded. “But we probably shouldn’t have sex on the piano.”
“Oh, I wasn’t asking because of the piano,” Charles said, a devious glint in his eyes. He darted forward, pressing their bodies together, and Max bit back a moan when he felt their hard cocks rub against each-other through their jeans.
“Come on, cheri,” Charles said, mouthing Max’s neck. “I want to hear you.”
Max let out something akin to a growl as he captured Charles lips in another heated kiss, hoping in the back of his mind that he didn’t end up with piano keys etched out on his ass by the end of it.
Max laughed when he saw Lando screaming along to ‘It’s Friday Then’ when it came blasting on at the club they ended up at the first night in Corsica. He’d seen Carlos go up to the DJ to request the song only minutes before, and the two former teammates were now jumping to its beat in the middle of the crowded dancefloor. Lando was somehow comfortably decked out in a hoodie of all things – it was a touch too big for him, making Max think it was probably Oscar’s. Only Lando, in his eternal winter, would ever be too cold in a club, in the summer.
Max used to hate dancing. It didn’t come naturally to him, and he was decidedly much too self-conscious to dance badly in front of large crowds of people, which was usually where said dancing took place. But Charles had begun to change that, slowly. Charles had been the first person he’d really danced with properly – sure, he’d been to clubs with Lando and Daniel before that, but he wouldn’t classify what he did there as dancing.
But it was different with Charles. Charles knew his body better than anyone, and not just in bed. Charles knew how Max moved, could lead his hips back and forth gently, making him feel in control of his body while guiding him to the beat of the song. They didn’t do much dancing in Monaco – the risk of being seen out in public was too great, but here in this semi-private, exclusive club that was known in Corsica for being a discrete spot for celebrities and athletes, they were all a bit braver.
Max smiled as Charles sidled up to him, their hands clasped together as Max tried to follow the younger driver’s footwork. He realized he probably looked quite dumb, but that was the thing about Charles – he never worried about looking stupid when he was with him.
“Love you,” Charles said, a giggle in his voice. His face was glowing, a sheen of sweat evident on his flushed cheeks. He was beautiful as Max had ever seen him.
Max was about to twirl him around when he saw Charles’ gaze shift to look at something over Max’s shoulder.
He turned and followed Charles’ gaze to see Logan Sargeant entering the fray, in a crisp short-sleeved button-down shirt unbuttoned just enough to show his sun kissed chest, sunglasses perched perfectly on his head, and a glitzy watch adorning his wrist. He was at the bar, ordering a drink with that confident, naturally flirtatious smile of his. His hair was styled to Ken doll precision, and the young bartender serving him seemed instantly enamored. As Logan waited for his drink, he leaned back against the bar and spotted Max through the crowd. His lips spread into an annoyingly white smile as he gave the Dutchman a lazy wave. Max rolled his eyes.
“Arthur,” Charles hissed, turning immediately to where the younger Leclerc was dancing next to him. “It’s Logan. Go dance with him.”
Max scoffed. It seemed like the alcohol in Charles’ system was getting to his head, and tact was no longer on the table (not that Charles was in huge supply of tact to begin with).
Arthur’s eyes widened when he saw Logan at the bar, and he immediately began bickering with Charles in French. His voice betrayed how nervous he was.
“Putain,” Charles hissed back. Well, that word Max was familiar with. “Just go,” he insisted, pushing Arthur not so gently in Logan’s direction.
Arthur took a few tentative steps forward, and that’s when Logan looked up and their eyes met. The cocksure confidence immediately dimmed in Logan’s gaze, and the American’s eyes softened the way they only seemed to do for Arthur.
Charles let his head rest on Max’s shoulder as Max surveyed the dancefloor again, comfortably holding his boyfriend close as they swayed along to the slow song. He saw Pierre and Carlos downing what looked to be shots down by the bar, and Lando was in his own world in the middle of the dancefloor, beer in one hand and moving to the rhythm. He saw a fair number of strangers eyeing Lando – he was a good looking guy who always turned heads at clubs. And before Oscar came along, Lando had never been shy about the occasional vacation hookup. When Max saw a particularly bold stranger sidle up next to Lando and place a hand on the small of his back, he instinctively moved to interject. But he paused when Lando was quick to bat their hand away with a frown.
“Nah ah ah,” Lando said, wagging a finger at the man. “I’m taken.” He said it with so much pride, drunk as he was, that Max couldn’t help but smile.
“Ooooh, look,” Charles squealed against Max’s chest, his voice betraying just how much the alcohol was affecting him.
Max turned to see Arthur and Logan, the latter of whom now had a tentative hand around the young Monegasque’s waist. Logan seemed to hesitate, waiting for Arthur to take the lead. Max would have assumed it would be the other way around, but Logan seemed to want Arthur to lead. He didn’t seem to mind waiting, either. His eyes were gentle, careful, as Arthur brought his hands up to rest on his shoulders. Arthur said something – Max couldn’t hear the words at that distance – and Logan burst into a laugh. This seemed to break the tension between them as they swayed to the music, eyes glittering.
A few hours later, when Max and Carlos – who were the soberest of the group – decided to call it a night for everyone, they stumbled down the hallway to the exit, where their chauffeur for the trip was waiting for them. Logan’s arm was slung around a sleepy looking Arthur, helping him stay upright.
“Psssst, Max,” Charles said in what Max assumed the Monegasque thought was a whisper but was in fact a very pronounced exclamation.
“Yes?”
“Do you want to top tonight?” Charles asked loudly against Max’s ear.
“Charles!” Max hissed, as Lando, Pierre, and Carlos burst into laughter.
“What? I am whispering,” Charles announced.
“Oh my God,” Max muttered.
Lando let out a bizarre whirring sound as he drunkenly launched himself into the passenger seat of the waiting SUV. Carlos followed suite as Max practically dragged Charles into the backseat, biting back an expletive as he hit his head on the top of the car door in the process. Logan opened the front door and helped Arthur in, strapping his seatbelt on. As he pulled away, Arthur made a motion to pull him back in and Logan smiled fondly at him.
“You got a ride home?” Max asked the American.
“Yeah, it’ll be here in a bit.”
“You want us to wait?”
Logan shrugged. “Nah, I’m good.”
Max sighed, looking around the parking lot and noting that there was still plenty of security around. It was late, after all. “Text me when you make it back.”
Logan chuckled. “Careful Verstappen, one might actually think you care about me.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Max sighed.
As their car peeled away from the club, Max settled back into his seat.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Charles pouted. “I want to sit on your di—” the rest of his sentence was muffled as Max clapped a hand against his mouth. Jesus fucking Christ, they needed to get to the hotel now.
“The first time I sat on Oscar’s dick was after that MotoGP event,” Lando exclaimed, his head lolling onto Pierre’s shoulder.
“Uh, Lando—”
“I saw that picture of him riding that fucking bike, and my mind stopped working, you know?” Lando said, looking up at the car ceiling as if it were the night sky. “I literally had to go home early because I couldn’t focus, my press officer was pissed. Then he topped me that night, and I lost it.”
“Topped you in qualifying, yes, as in… he beat you,” Carlos interrupted unnecessarily loudly, shooting a concerned glance at the chauffeur, who was a middle-aged local man, a stranger to them. Max understood why. They always had to be careful in front of people outside their tight F1 circle. Max knew how vicious people could be, how vicious the media could be. God forbid their SUV driver decide that Lando’s declarations were mighty worthy of a next news headline.
And so he backed Carlos up. “Yeah, mate, when Oscar topped you in qualifying, obviously you lost it… cause you don’t want him beating you.”
And that’s when a more-than-tipsy Charles piped in, helpful as ever, his head still resting on Max’s shoulder. “I remember when you fucked me for the first time, cheri,” he announced, blissfully unaware of his surroundings.
Max shut his eyes in pain.
“For fuck’s sake,” Carlos sighed. “You muppets.”
Future World Champions (Max ruins everything, including this group chat name)
Lando: Oscaaaaar babyyyy
Lando: My sexy koala
Alex: Lol get the popcorn, drunk Lando is the best Lando
Lando: I looOoove you Oscar
Lando: Have I ever told you how much I love your thighs
Alex: Yeah you’ve not been shy about that
Lando: I want you so bad
Lando: We should fuck on Zak’s desk like I said
Lando: After hours
George: Oh god Lando this is not your private chat with Piastri
Lando: Or I could ride you in the simulator again
Alex: Again?!?!
George: I’m crying
Lando: I can’t get into the sim without getting hard now
Pierre: YUKI COVER YOUR EYES
George: @Lando!!! THIS IS NOT A PRIVATE CHAT
George: ABORT ABORT
Oscar: What on earth
Oscar: Oh my GOD
Lando: OSCARRRRR
Lando: I miss you
Lando: And your dick
Oscar Piastri removed Lando Norris from Future World Champions (Max ruins everything, including this group chat name)
George: So ummmmmm @Oscar
Alex: … in the simulator, Piastri? Really?
George: On Zak’s desk?
Logan: @Oscar if you’re waiting for me to mount some kind of defense for you, you’re out of luck because I’m actively dry heaving
Oscar Piastri left Future World Champions (Max ruins everything, including this group chat name)
The morning after, Max smiled into his coffee mug as he lay back against the headboard of their bed, listening to Charles play a slow song on the piano. The door between their room and Lando’s, an adjoining suite, was wide open, and Max could hear Lando, Carlos, Arthur and Pierre shouting at each-other over a game of FIFA.
He almost wanted to pinch himself with how well everything was going. He’d been so nervous that he’d somehow let Charles down on this trip, somehow not be able to plan the perfect week for them on his own. But, as usual, everything was easy with Charles. And, hearing Lando let out yet another scream as Carlos scored a goal on him, Max knew his friends would never have let him do this alone.
That night, after a blissfully relaxing day out on the water, Max and Charles settled in for an early night after devouring their usual room service order – pizza for Charles, and tomato soup and carpaccio for Max.
“I want to show you something,” Charles said, leading Max over to the piano. He pulled out his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it briefly.
Max frowned as Charles put his phone lock on and set it down on the piano.
“What—”
“Shhh,” Charles chuckled.
And that’s when a piano arrangement started playing from Charles’ phone. He knew it was Charles himself playing it – he didn’t know how he knew, but he could probably recognize Charles’ music in his sleep, it was so familiar to him.
“I know you say sometimes you can’t put what you feel into words, and I… sometimes I can’t either,” the Monegasque said softly. “So, I wrote this for you.”
Fuck, and Charles was beautiful in the low light of the room, his lips cherry red from the wine they’d drunk.
It was a slow song, but it was powerful, had a strong melody that was so uniquely them. It reminded Max of their first kiss, their first fight, the first time Charles blurted out I love you after Max’s win in Hockenheim and Max had immediately blurted it back because God knows how long that had been true for. As the song went on, Charles looked at him with pride, happiness, but Max could sense a tinge of hesitation in his gaze, like he was waiting for Max’s reaction. As he moved to reassure him, Charles’ face fell.
“Max!” he whispered in panic.
“Wh—” Max started before he realized why Charles had reacted.
Max was crying.
He felt the tears streaming down his cheeks, warm like the ocean water they’d languished in that afternoon. Max hadn’t cried in… fuck, he didn’t even remember the last time he’d cried tears of joy.
“Fuck,” he said, feeling a dam breaking in his chest. His voice was choked. “Sorry.”
“Is the song that bad?” Charles said jokingly, though his eyes betrayed his concern.
“No!” Max said, maybe a bit too forcefully. “I love it. I just… I’m so happy and… I don’t know what to say again. I just love you. I love you so fucking much.”
He looked up and met Charles eyes, pouring everything he could into his gaze – his gratitude, his love, his fucking soul because God knows his soul was Charles’ already. He prayed it was enough to make up for him not finding the words.
But Charles smiled, his eyes rivaling the brightness of the Monaco sun.
“You always say just enough, cheri,” he whispered. “I love you.”
The Monegasque took a small step back before offering his hand.
“Dance with me?”
Max nodded immediately, taking Charles’ hand and letting him lead.
And as they danced under the light of the Corsica moon, Max vowed to himself this would be forever. If Lando hadn’t been in possession of the ring, Max may have dropped to one knee right there, but he only had a day to wait.
“Thank you, cheri,” Charles said, leading them into another turn. “This is the perfect week.”
“It is,” Max whispered.
Yes, he thought. Yes. This. Forever.
Later that night, when Charles was fast asleep, Max rolled over and reached for the Ferrari driver’s phone on the bedside table, typing in the password that he knew by heart. He went into the MP3 files, searched for the Recently Played songs, and smiled when he saw the one labeled max. He sent it to himself, saved the file on his phone, and then deleted the message on Charles’ to cover his tracks before locking his boyfriend’s phone and setting it back down.
As he was opening his private chat with Lando, he received a flurry of texts.
Logan: Are you awake
Logan: I’m with Lando and Arthur at the hotel bar
Logan: You need to come down
Logan: Fewtrell’s here
Max instantly shot out of bed, careful not to wake Charles. No fucking way. Max Fewtrell, subpar racer-turned-Twitch streamer, but more importantly Lando’s ex and the reason Mission Landoscar had almost crashed and burned. When Lando and Oscar had been ever so close to finally confessing their feelings, Fewtrell had aired on his Twitch stream some rude things Lando had regrettably said about the Aussie in a moment of insecurity long before he’d even met him. The repercussions were devastating and caused both Max’s best friend and his now-boyfriend a lot of hurt, and though Lando and Oscar were able to find their way back to each-other, in large part thanks to a dramatic love confession in the rain, it hadn’t been easy. And it wasn’t just that. Fewtrell had also gotten into altercations with both Logan and Charles during all this drama.
So no. Max was not letting Fewtrell anywhere fucking near them this week. This week was too important, and he’d be damned if he let the Brit ruin anything else in their lives.
When Max arrived at the hotel bar in the lobby, he immediately saw Logan and Lando engaged in what seemed like a heated discussion.
“Hey,” Max interjected, rushing over. “What’s going on?”
“He’s staying here,” Lando said. “At this fucking hotel, and I want him to leave.”
“You were about to go over there and punch him,” Logan hissed.
“He deserves it!” Lando insisted. “I swore if I ever fucking saw him again, I—”
“We can’t make a scene,” Arthur said softly, glancing nervously at where Fewtrell was standing at the other side of the bar with a few friends. Max didn’t miss the way Arthur had a hand on Logan’s shoulder.
Max sighed. As much as he’d love to wipe the smirk off of Fewtrell’s face, Logan and Arthur were right. Getting into a fight in the hotel lobby was not on his bingo card for this proposal week.
“He’s the reason I almost lost Oscar,” Lando said, and Max didn’t miss the way his voice stuttered even in his anger. “I don’t want him anywhere near us. This proposal is too important.”
Max recognized the anguish that was coming off of Lando now in waves. He knew the guilt that the Brit still carried for hurting Oscar. And Max could relate. He hated being reminded of times that he’d hurt Charles, but at least he could silence those memories, block them out. In Lando’s case, Fewtrell was a living, breathing reminder of just how close he’d been to losing the best thing that ever happened to him.
It was that moment, of course, that Fewtrell noticed them from across the room, instantly walking over with a smile that looked entirely too at ease.
“Fancy seeing you lot here,” he said. “How’s it going?”
No one responded, and Max kept a close eye on Lando’s fist, curling at his side.
“Lando,” Fewtrell said, his voice measured. “How’s Piastri?”
“Don’t say his fucking name,” Lando said, his voice low.
Something shifted in Fewtrell’s gaze. A spark. Dangerous. Max clenched his jaw, and a few tense seconds passed until Fewtrell shrugged and bid his farewell.
“Lando, breathe,” Max said as Fewtrell vanished from sight and the McLaren driver’s face crumbled. “Breathe.” He recognized this anxiety in Lando. He’d always been an emotional person, wore his feelings on his sleeve. Max was usually able to calm him down, but he knew it wasn’t him that Lando needed right now.
“You should call Oscar,” Logan said.
“It’s like, 5AM in Melbourne,” Lando said. “He’ll kill me if I wake him up that early.”
“Let’s get you back up to your room first,” Max suggested, anxious to get out of the lobby in case Fewtrell returned. “Come on.”
He didn’t miss the way Logan turned away and fished his phone out of his pocket. Max didn’t have to guess who he was texting.
“You guys alright here?” Max asked, nodding to Logan and Arthur as he moved to lead Lando towards the elevators.
“Yeah, we’ll close out the tab,” the rookie said.
Minutes later when Max and Lando entered the latter’s hotel room, Max looked around and instantly grimaced. He thought Charles was messy, the Monegasque often leaving his clothes around the room with no regard to the many hampers Max had tried to place in strategic locations around the apartment. But Lando’s hotel room looked honest to God like the inside of an airplane wreckage.
“You ever heard of… folding your clothes?” Max asked, looking at the crumpled heap of clothing protruding from the Brit’s suitcase. He didn’t miss the stash of Tim Tams – Oscar’s favorite chocolate biscuits from Australia that Lando was now equally obsessed with – lying open on the bedside table, and Oscar’s green and yellow Australian National Cricket Team hoodie crumpled up on the bed. He seemed to have stolen a fair few of the Aussie’s hoodies.
Lando chuckled, though it sounded sad. “You know I can’t be bothered with folding,” he said as he slumped down onto the bed. “Sorry about that, downstairs… I just… I dunno…”
“It’s fine, mate, I get it,” Max said. “You miss him.”
The McLaren driver nodded silently. “I really fucking do. And it’s only been like, three days.”
Lando’s phone started buzzing, and sure enough, his phone screen lit up: Oscar Piastri. FaceTime Video… Max made a mental note to thank Logan, again.
Lando could not have answered more quickly. It was dark, and the lighting took a second to adjust, but then Oscar came into view, bedhead hair and everything. The Aussie had clearly just woken up if his lack of shirt and drawn curtains in the background were anything to go by, but he looked concerned more than anything.
“Baby,” the Aussie whispered.
“Oscar,” Lando whispered back, relief evident in his voice. A smile broke out on his face, and Max could see him calming down already.
“Logan told me what happened,” Oscar said. “Are you okay?”
Lando nodded quickly, and Max stepped back to give them some space. He walked into the kitchen area of Lando’s suite, which looked – obviously – completely unused. He remembered that Lando enjoyed a cup of tea whenever he was upset, and looking into the drawer, he saw a sachet of English breakfast tea, which… he’d never made before, but how hard could it be?
As he put the kettle on to boil, he overheard bits and pieces of Lando and Oscar’s conversation.
“Seeing him just… made me lose it. I don’t know… I just really needed to hear your voice.”
“Lando, you can always call me.”
“I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“You really are a muppet if you think I wouldn’t choose you a hundred times over sleep.”
Max rolled his eyes with a smirk, but that dropped from his face as the kettle spewed boiling water across the stovetop. He turned it off and moved the kettle from the heat. He got a mug from the cabinet and then frowned. Was he supposed to put the milk in first with the teabag? Was it just one teabag to a cup?
“I went surfing with Daniel today.”
“You what?”
“Yeah, he kinda blindsided me. Said we were just hanging out on the beach and when I got there he basically manhandled me into a wetsuit.”
“Do you have any pictures?”
Max could almost hear Oscar rolling his eyes.
“You’re out of luck if you think they’ll be thirst traps, it’s mostly just pictures Dan took of me falling off the board.”
“Mmm, send them anyway.”
Max scrolled through Instagram waiting for the tea to brew, and then googled Googled “How long to brew tea?” Seven minutes seemed entirely too long, but three minutes didn’t look right either. Why were there so many different answers? He rummaged through the cabinet again to see if there was any honey or sugar. Lando had a major sweet tooth. Was one whole sugar sachet enough? Probably? Fuck it.
At long last, Max stirred up what he hoped was a regular cup of English breakfast. The color looked vaguely acceptable, so he was calling this a win. As he re-entered the bedroom area, cup of tea in hand, he really should have fucking known that a night so chaotic couldn’t possibly end so peacefully.
“Hey, Lando, I—”
“Oscar,” Lando gasped, and Max’s eyes shot open wide as he registered multiple things at once: Lando was, quite clearly, naked, and, quite clearly, jerking off with his phone perched on his lap. The lower half of his body was thankfully hidden underneath the blanket, but that was absolutely no solace for the two best friends as they locked terrified gazes.
“LANDO!” Max yelled.
“AAHH!” Lando screamed, throwing his phone at Max in his panic.
Max reacted instinctively from years of reflex training to snatch the phone out of the air before it hit the ground. But as he did so, he came face to face with an equally naked Oscar Piastri on the screen.
“MAX?!” Oscar screeched, pulling a blanket up to cover himself.
“OSCAR!” Lando shouted.
Max threw the phone back at Lando a bit too forcefully, hitting him in the chest.
“I thought you left!” Lando said in horror.
“I was… making you tea!” Max said, looking down at the cup of tea in his hand that he had miraculously not spilled everywhere.
“Leave!” Lando repeated, his cheeks blistering red with embarrassment.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going!” Max said, rushing away. As he approached the door, he realized he was still holding the mug. He darted back into the room to Lando’s withering glare, and set the cup down on the table.
“Here’s your fucking tea.”
Lestappen Proposal Planners
Pierre: Threat has been neutralized
Logan: Slam DUNK boys
Max: ???
Pierre: Fewtrell was asked to leave the hotel. He’s gone
Max: How??
Sainz: We figured out which hotel room he was staying in and we each filed separate noise complaints on him
Logan: I also told the hotel I saw him bring multiple pit bulls in and out of the room
Max: Damn
Max: Who tf thought of that because I know it was neither of you
Sainz: I’m hurt
Sainz: It was Sargeant’s idea
Logan: I lied, it was actually Oscar’s big brained idea
Oscar: The hotel has a list of banned dog breeds on their website, not that big brained
Pierre: “Not that big brained” says big brained rookie
Lando: :)))
Lando: That’s not the only thing he’s got that’s big
Oscar: Lando please don’t make me remove you from this chat too, because I will
Max snorted, resisting the urge to tease the couple for the horror he just had to witness. They’d had enough of a stressful night. He settled in against Charles’ side, reveling in his warmth and saying a mental note of thanks for the soundproof walls.
Private chat: Max Verstappen and Lando Norris
Lando: I thought this was supposed to be tea that you made me
Max: It is
Lando: Dude..
Max opened his eyes to the soft sunshine streaming in through the window. He thought he’d feel more nervous, but the events of that night – well, dancing with Charles to their song before Fewtrell’s untimely appearance – had given him a sense of peace.
Because today was the day. Proposal day.
They’d arranged a few fun activities throughout the morning and afternoon. Some paddle boarding, cliff diving… and then Carlos, Pierre, and Charles would head off to do some shopping at the Monegasque’s behest. Handily, Max had never been one to join Charles on his vacation shopping escapades, so it would give him, Lando, Arthur, and Logan plenty of time to get to the pier where dinner was arranged to make sure everything was perfect when Charles arrived.
As Max stretched out on the bed, he vaguely registered that this was the first morning he hadn’t woken up to Charles playing a soft melody on the piano. He assumed his boyfriend was in the shower, but then he heard the unmistakable sound of Charles’ voice out on the balcony. And he was yelling.
Max frowned, getting out of bed and padding over to the balcony door, sliding it open. His boyfriend didn’t raise his voice often.
“Charles?” he said.
The Ferrari driver turned around mid-sentence, freezing when he saw Max in the doorway.
“I have to go,” he said into his phone, hanging up on whoever it was.
“Who was that?” Max asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Charles nodded. “Everything is fine.”
Max’s brow furrowed, feeling a sense of unease creep into his chest. “I heard you yelling.”
“It was just… contract stuff, you know,” Charles said, shrugging. “Ferrari being a pain in the ass.”
Max paused. He’d seen Charles air his frustration out on Ferrari every summer, every time he’d negotiated a new contract with them, new terms. This seemed… different.
But today was proposal day, and he wasn’t about to derail it by prying.
“I’m gonna shower,” Charles said, giving Max a smile and a soft kiss on the cheek as he passed him.
Max tried to ignore his worry all morning, but as the day progressed, it was quite clear that Charles was distracted. It was subtle – so subtle that he was probably the only one who noticed it. But the Monegasque spent most of breakfast glancing at his phone, and he was noticeably less relaxed, didn’t reach for Max’s hand once as they walked through the streets on their way to the beach. And, perhaps most tellingly, he’d barely looked Max in the eye all day. And try as he might, Max couldn’t shake the sense that something was horribly wrong.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Max asked halfway through their paddle board session, when they were far enough away from everyone.
“Yeah, stop asking, cheri,” Charles said, and Max blinked. While Charles’ tone seemed casual enough, it wasn’t laced with the usual chuckle, the usual teasing lilt.
The day was moving so quickly that Max didn’t have a chance to confide in Lando about it – what would he say, anyway, that something was off with Charles but he had no idea what, and he had no time to figure it out before he planned to propose?
So as he, Lando, Arthur and Logan waited on the pier for Charles, Pierre, and Carlos to get back from their shopping trip, he tried to will his fears away. Charles loved him, he loved Charles. They would have forever together. It was just an off day. It had to be. He had no other explanation. Charles wouldn’t keep something from him if it was important. He had to believe that.
“You have the ring, right?” Max asked for what was probably the eighth time that day.
“Yeah, just like I did the last time you asked,” Lando smiled, though there was no bite to his voice. “It’s in my backpack. We’re all good.”
Max looked around, pleased with how everything had come together. The table was adorned with carnations and tulips, the Monaco and Netherlands national flowers, respectively. The yacht was docked on the pier behind him, and Logan was currently speaking with the skipper to confirm their route. The American was pretty adept at sailing, having spent many Florida summers out on his father’s boat, and after all they’d been through, Max had to reluctantly admit that he trusted the rookie.
But then, all four of their phones started buzzing, and something squirmed in the pit of Max’s stomach.
Lestappen Proposal Planners
Carlos: Guys we have a problem
Lando: ???
Carlos: Something happened
Carlos: Charles left
Carlos: Pierre’s on his way to you
Max immediately exited out of the group chat app and called Charles.
“What the fuck,” Max breathed as the dial tone rang, and rang.
His heart clenched, frozen in fear, when his call was sent to voicemail mid-ring.
His brain was short circuiting. The ground felt like it was falling from under him, and he vaguely registered Lando’s voice in his ear.
The sound of footsteps had them all glancing up to see Pierre rushing down the pier.
“Charles is going back to Monaco,” he said frantically. “I don’t know what happened. He got a call while we were shopping… and then he hailed a cab and wouldn’t let us come with him. He said he’s leaving.”
“What? What else did he say?” Arthur asked. “Is he okay?”
“Who was the call from?” Lando asked.
“I have no idea, he wouldn’t say anything,” Pierre said. “Something’s wrong, guys.”
“Where the fuck is he right now?” Max asked, holding onto the last vestiges of his self-control.
“At the hotel, packing,” Pierre said. “Carlos is heading back there but Charles isn’t answering anyone’s calls.”
“I have to get to him—” Max started, looking around for the keys to their rental car.
“I’m driving,” Lando said.
The next few minutes passed by like a blur. He tried calling Charles again, leaving him a voicemail this time.
“Can you just… can you just call me back?” Max whispered. “You’re… you’re scaring me. Whatever it is, just… call me back, Charles, okay? Please.”
He didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He vaguely registered Lando’s worried glances at him through the rearview mirror as Logan rattled directions at him to navigate the winding roads; Pierre had a steadying arm around his shoulder, and Arthur’s hand was gripping his wrist… he couldn’t breathe.
And then his phone buzzed again. It was a text from Charles. Two words.
I’m sorry.