Chapter Text
Charles tried so hard, so fucking hard.
He prepared all year, practiced every fucking day.
It wasn’t enough. Max Verstappen beat him in the world championship.
Max took the title. Not him.
Max won it all. Not him.
Charles said nothing to his team on the other end of his car radio. They said nothing in return, they were all dissapointed. His manager, Frederic, voice came over the radio as he was about to get out of his car and storm into the paddock.
“Meet me in your dressing room. Now.”
Charles said nothing in return. He simply got out of his car, sparring one glance at Max Verstappen who was in his teams arms. Red-Bulls arms. He had a wide smile on his face and was laughing with Christian. If Charles wasn’t so pissed he would think Max deserved it. He didn’t. Charles deserved to win, not Max.
Charles walked through the paddock and to his dressing room. No one sparred him a glance. No one even saw him, all they saw was Max, the world champion. As he slammed the door open to his room he scanned the area. It was empty except for Frederic.
Tense silence filled the room as the two looked at each other with equal levels of anger on their faces. It was broken by Frederic speaking.
“Sit.”
Charles sat. He could feel himself burning with anger from the inside, he was practically shaking with rage. Whatever Frederic had to say better be good because he was about to lash out.
“Im only going to say this once, Charles. There is no room for discussion in what I am about to tell you. If you do not do this, this will be your last race in Ferrari, and your last race in formula 1.”
Charles eyes widened. The anger in his body shifted to concern. He knew he raced bad but that wasn’t his fault. Ferrari never listened to him or Carlos.
Charles leaned forward as Frederic spoke again.
“You are going to steal Red-Bulls secrets. You are going to figure out how they race like they do.” A beat passed then Charles laughed. He didn’t know Frederic was pulling pranks on him now.
“Is this some fucked up joke because I didn’t do well?” Charles asked. When Frederic didn’t laugh with him Charles smile faded off his face. Then Frederic handed him a contract. Charles read over it and his jaw went slack. He was dead fucking serious. Frederic wanted him to steal Red-Bulls secrets. His manager had forged his signature. He could be kicked off the team if he didn’t do as the contract read.
“What!” Charles sputtered. “You really can’t expect me to do this?”
“I do and you will.” Frederic replied calmly. “Next season will be Ferrari’s season. With all of Red-Bulls secrets of course.”
Charles shook his head. “You are fucking insane. How do you suppose I steal all of Red-bulls secrets, huh? Am I going to wear an all black suit and break into their headquarters at midnight?”
“Max Verstappen.” Frederic replied. “You seriously can’t see the way he looks at you? The kid is infatuated with you.”
Charles leaned forward the anger coming to the surface. “Max hates me! He loathes my guts. We’ve been practically enemies since we were younger.”
Frederic sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “On the podium you are going to act like you are happy for him. Then you are going to congratulate him and invite him for dinner. Get him drunk and get the secrets.”
Charles rose to his feet. “You seriously can’t expect me to gain Red-Bulls secrets in a goddamn night!”
“You have five days.” Frederic walked to the door. The gravity of the situation finally hit him.
“You can’t expect me to fall in love with Max Verstappen!”
That caused Frederic to pause with his hand resting on the door knob. He turned around. “I don’t. I expect you to pretend to fall in love with him. I expect you to be such a good actor he believes you are infatuated with him as he is with you. Then I expect you to take everything from him.”
Charles was left in silence. He glanced at his watch. He had to be on the podium in five minutes.
He had to gain Red-Bulls secrets in five days, less then a week. He had to pretend to fall in love with Max Verstappen in less than that. Charles took a deep breath, stood up, and went to the sink to splash cold water on his face. Then, he fixed his ruffled hair and starred at his reflection in the mirror. He held his chin up.
In that moment his fate was sealed. In that moment he made his choice.
Charles would do anything to stay in Formula one. Anything.
Even if it meant taking something from someone else.
-
Charles did as Frederic told him too. On the podium he laughed with Max, spraying the expensive champagne right in his face, making him look at Charles and only Charles. Max’s eyes lightened when he turned to him.
This would be easier than he thought.
Afterward he took Max by the arm. “I forgot to tell you congratulations. My manager needed me after the race. You did amazing, truly!”
Max flushed. “Thank you. I really worked hard to be here.”
Not as hard as Charles did.
A group of fans were screaming Max’s name, he looked over at them before fixing his attention back on Charles.
“Are you doing anything later tonight?” Charles questioned, flashing him a smile. “I don’t want to hold you back from fans, I was just wondering.”
“Oh,” Max whispered, voice teetering disbelief. “I have a Red-Bull party to go to but I am free afterwards.”
Perfect. He would already be drunk.
“Would you like to come to my place? It will be a little late for dinner but we could play some Fifa?”
Max smiled. “I would love that.”
Charles grinned in return. “Here, I’ll give you my number and text you my address.”
Max thanked him for his number then walked over to the fans. They screamed when he began to sign their things. Charles watched for a second with a fake look of admiration on his face. There was no way the fans didn’t notice.
As he walked back into his dressing room and took a shower he thought about everything that was happening.
Charles wished he could say he felt bad. He didn’t. He felt no regret, no remorse, no hesitation.
He felt nothing except the desire to win.
-
It was close in two in the morning and Charles was thinking about going to bed. Max still hadn’t shown up. He understood Red-Bull parties were wild but geez, he was exhausted.
Then he heard a soft knock at his door. Charles got to his feet, fixing his hoodie and smoothing out his sweatpants. He opened the door. Max looked like he was struggling to stand.
“Hi.” Charles whispered, opening his door to let him in.
“Hello!” Max replied, slurring his words, and falling into Charles. He had a suit on and his breath reeked of booze.
Charles led him to his couch, sitting next to him. He wouldn’t even need to give him any more alcohol, now he just needed Max to talk.
“Sorry I didn’t come earlier. Daniel made me drink a keg.” Max voice was loud, like he was still in the club. His head slumped into Charles lap and he blinked blearily. “I don’t remember everything. It was a lot.”
“Thats alright.” Charles mused, running his hands though Max’s hair. The dutchman relaxed into the touch, like a cat would. Max’s eyes slipped shut. Charles was trying to figure out the best approach to finding out Red-Bulls secrets when Max spoke.
“You know I like you?” Max questioned, alcohol taking over his speech.
Charles faked surprise. “You do?”
“Yeah. A lot, a lot.”
‘What if I said I liked you too?” Charles watched as Max’s closed eyes shot open.
“You do?” Max sounded hopeful and a little desperate.
“I do Max.” Charles moved his hands from Max’s hair to his cheekbone. Max closed his eyes once more.
“Oh.” A few seconds later Max was asleep with a smile on his face.
The monegasque slowly scooted out from under him.
As Charles went to his bedroom and finally went to bed he had to remind himself not to get attached, and that this was his only option. Charles would get Red-Bulls secrets.
No matter what it took.