#and i dont think people realise how max is on the softer more accesable side

[cp3killer]

untitled: a lestappen fic (or a glimpse of it)

hello!

here you go, the first glimpse of the fic. This is still very rough around the edges and i’m not even sure wtf this is. Still I hope you enjoy it or at least gives some excitement to your day-or night.

Please let me know your thoughts, if it’s good, or bad or nothing at all! 

playlist for this fic

2014

Today marks the end of his most successful season as a driver. Somewhere in his mother house his trophies attest to this. 

There’s a horse in one of them- his Maranello trophy couldn't be more obnoxious even if their cars depended on it. Ferrari's horse is in the middle of it with a cheap glint. In the end it’s just an object with arbitrary literature about the winner being the champion. 

But the real success is a personal milestone he hopes will become the norm in the future. This season his anxiety is less obvious. He suspects his mother knows this too, even if he’s never told her about how all his accolades are defiled by the experiences behind them. However he does feel satisfaction at how proud his mother is showcasing his trophies. It’s borderline embarrassing how giddy it makes him feel, blushing in front of someone worthy of his discomfort.

Maranello in winter is nothing special- in any season really. But Rome has the Vatican, Pisa has a tower, David is the representation of courage that makes Florence proud. Maranello on the other hand, is mythical, a museum filled with sacrifice and history dripping in devilish red.

His dad is somewhere talking to a mechanic or engineer, maybe even a sponsor. He doesn't care. It’s been half an hour since the race finished and with the conference done, the season has officially ended. Maybe he’ll see his mother soon, he doesn't remember the last time he saw her. 

He calls Victoria most days, lately by the time they finish their calls his ears are ringing from how her voice escalates with the fluttering panic of her current crush. Max is protective of her, but the distance between them is a reminder of what pursuing his dream has cost the family, which keeps him quiet. 

“What about you? How are things with Nyck's sister?” She finishes applying nail polish on her toes before turning to the video call.

He rolls his eyes. That had ended a long time ago, getting lost somewhere in the couple of months that passed. Honestly he feels a bit guilty about how little effect the break up has on him. 

“You can say her name Victoria” She was watching a show when he called her that is still playing in the background, loud enough he has to make an effort to hear her. “Oh, I know” she almost gags in disgust at the idea. His answer is concealed with a sigh.

“Were done”

“Finally!” His screen is framing her nose by how close she holds the phone, joy overflowing her blue eyes “Jesus Max. You train your reflexes everyday but couldn't see her coming, could you?” She moves her hand in the air like it’s supposed to keep her rant going. For everytime Max has swallowed a sarcastic comment, she vomits every single one of her thoughts “Plus, I warned you that those weren't just rumors, she is a ho..” 

“Let’s not go there Vic, alright.” His hand flashes in front of him writing a period in the air. “I don’t have the energy for this” She huffs, her eyes are still talking- despite the pixelated image the shitty internet provides, he can guarantee it. 

“I just…” This is the part he hates the most. Her distress is a consequence of something that is out of his hands. He could do anything about it, but doesn't want to. No matter the overflowing reason as to why he should. 

Max goes left when he crosses the back of the garage. There’s a spot far enough he escapes to sometimes. It’s just him and a sea of green weeds. It’s cloudy- he can almost smell the earthy aroma that sets after it rains. 

There’s still a couple of weeks before fall, but the rain is here. Ironic how in the one season where the cool raindrops would be welcomed they forget the clouds can kiss the ground.

He’s not hiding by being in this particular part of the track. But it is true that you only stumble on it if you actively look for it- or get lost. 

Last night's phone call is the first thing that crosses his mind when he sits down. He told himself he wouldn't think about the conversation with Victoria until he gets home, he had won the championship a couple of races ago, this one wouldn't really make a difference.

But even still, he wanted a 100% win rate. Every victory is a win. Yet he’s still anxious, he knows this  will not be enough for his dad. The most this will do is get his dad to say ‘you’ll do better next year’ or at least take back saying ‘you’re not even worth being a bus driver’ he lets the remark swim in his mind like it’s training for the olympics.

“Oh” Not oh. Ughh. Charles is standing in front of him looking uncomfortable. He’s so exhausted he can’t be bothered to give him more than a glance. Charles misunderstands it as an invitation.

Charles sits close, maybe the fabricated privacy gives him courage. The secluded place gives Max comfort. He doesn't worry about closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. Truthfully that's all he can do to manage his nerves. The adrenaline should be out of his system by now not racing to reach his cheeks.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten. Charles is still there when he opens them, a bubble forms around them, the tension is building fast enough to threaten them with the impending explosion. Charles' demeanor is anxious. Even if he decided to keep Max company- voluntarily.

“Congratulations” Max shakes his head, brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. “What do you want?” Please leave me alone. Charles keeps quiet, pondering. “Take a guess” the shift in his eyes challenges him. Max turns away in return.

“Max” maybe it’s his accent- or his emotions, but the name rolls out of him like a moan. He watches Charles swallow, captivated by the apple in his throat- small and fragile. Dropping like it’s been trying to defy gravity.

His blush is deep, the heat in his cheek lights something in his mind, a fuse having no right to be so strong, he trembles, Charles eyes control the tide of his shivers. If only he could affect him too. Have him show his true colors. Even if his eyes highlight every thought, the absolute control of every single micro movement on his face is enough to confuse him.

“Honestly, can we stop with this” he hasn't learned how to show his pain through anything else but anger. He doesn't want to let anyone see anything that his anger can’t conceal. The last time he opened the curtains to his shiny eyes, it burned him.

“I can’t come up with a single fucking reason why you’d want to talk to me” his voice breaks at the end. Great. He tries to regain his composure “Someone who just put your career to shame” The facade is hard to maintain.

“I’m not here as Leclerc, Max” Charles interrupts him quickly, his voice drips with desperation, like Max is missing the point.

“I'm..” Charles points towards himself as if Max could ever forget who he is. “I know who you are,” he answers impulsively. Stupidly. 

Charles lets out a tiny huff, a giggle, a ‘ha’ that takes some of the younger's indignation away. If only Charles knew what saying his name out loud would do to him. Would he laugh at me? A memory pops up and it’s enough to keep his grit in place. 

“I don’t doubt it” The younger brags condescendingly. He rolls his eyes. 

If Charles was the sun, he bathes Max in the most intense and violent sense of inferiority. This is another addition to the countless times Charles has obliterated any sense of control between them. There’s always a lingering feeling that he’s behind on something.

The latter is looking down at the space between them, a tight smile on his lips. He's sitting half turned to him, letting his face be closer than his lower half. Left hand tentatively close to his thigh.

The breeze is showering them like a sprinkler. The rain is getting stronger and Max is getting weaker.

Charles crushes their lips together, his hands protect Max's head like a helmet. Which definitely needs protection, the kiss feels like deliberately losing control over your car at the right speed so you can optimize the G forces that are about to impact you. You think you’re prepared for it. The chances of hitting a barrier are higher than winning a race. And still.

The constellation that bursts between them is the space between his longing and fears. Charles' lips which both bite and heal him are eager in their conquest. 

Max keeps still holding his breath. The memory of when the roles were reversed- it breaks him. Charles’ courage is a walk in the park compared to the sword Max prepared for a gun fight.

“Yeah, I.. that was” Whatever Charles wants to say stays in the space between them. But the rims of his eyes hums softly.

“A mistake” Prove me wrong. 

Charles' eyes squint in suspicion “Is that really how you feel?” Max swallows ”I don’t know about you, but when I do something twice it’s a decision Max” Charles looks so honest, it scares him.

Max can see himself, the way Charles eyes blink cautious and curious. How his body trembles so lightly he wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for his hands still holding him. The tremor actually comforts him, both of them are shaken by whatever is going on between them and having proof that he affects the younger feels delicious, it feels like victory.

“You’re only making a fool of yourself” Charles gasps. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t surround myself with fools Charles” The latter’s eyes blaze with fury, Max cheeks are on fire, between his blush, the dried sweat and Charles tight hold he couldn't be more present even if he searched from more things to ground him.

Charles is staring at his lips, there can’t be more than 3 centimeters between them, it’s so close yet not close enough, he swears Charles takes a breath to impulse himself forward, this time he’s ready.