Chapter Text
Charles stood before his mirror, studying his reflection with a critical eye. His dark curls, usually a messy clue to his rushed mornings, were carefully styled. He wanted to make a good impression. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t attracted to Max. However, was he going overboard maybe Max just wanted to be friends, but that wouldn’t explain his behaviour the other night. ‘Charles, you are over analysing this. Make a good impression and see how things go. If something more happens, then wonderful, if not, you have a very attractive friend.’ Charles made eye contact with himself in the mirror, nodding. ‘You’ve got this.’
The room around him was a whirlwind of activity: the faint hum of his playlist in the background, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air, and the open wardrobe spilling half of its contents onto the floor. On the bed lay his two shirt options for the night, one crisp white button-down and the other deep navy blue. He picked up the navy one, smoothing it out before slipping it on. The colour, he thought, suited what he remembered Max wearing last time.
Buttoning up, he stole another look at his watch. 15 minutes to go. His nerves prickled. First date jitters, he thought, half smiling to himself. I mean, he assumed this was some type of date.
He moved swiftly to his dresser, where a bottle of cologne sat waiting. Two sprays, he reminded himself, enough to be noticeable, not overpowering. The woodsy notes filled the air as he turned to look at his reflection. Charles adjusted the collar of his shirt, ensuring it sat just right, then stepped into his dark jeans, a comfortable choice. Shoes were the next choice. Polished or clean trainers? He hesitated, then reached for the white trainers. They struck him as the perfect balance between effort and ease. As he slid them on, he checked his phone. A message from Lando popped up, ‘Charles, good luck tonight. Just be careful.’
He typed out a quick response, then slipped his phone back into his pocket. A final once-over in the mirror revealed a nervous flush on his cheeks. Charles straightened his posture, grabbed his coat and took a deep breath. The anticipation buzzed through him as he headed for the door. Tonight could be something special, and he wanted to do everything in his power to make it so.
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly as he turned his drink in his hand, watching the vodka soda swirl in the glass. His mind was uneasy. He was early. He liked to be punctual, but it offered him a moment of freedom. He could leave now, and Max could take the hint that he wasn’t interested, but Charles was interested. And it scared him. He shifted in the barstool, slowly rising to his feet to find a booth in a quiet corner of the building.
As the door swung open, Charles’s heart stopped for a beat. There was something in the way Max entered that made the room shift. The air in the bar changed, and suddenly, nothing seemed the same. His black suit looked impossibly sharp against the dim lighting, and his gaze swept over the room with an almost predatory calm, eyes scanning the bar before landing on Charles.
Max’s eyes didn’t just see Charles- they calculated him. Charles swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to make a good impression, stand and greet him like any other man, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. The weight of his gaze was suffocating yet magnetic. It pulled Charles in. Max hadn’t moved, the intensity between them felt electric. Max took a few steps forward, his presence making the bar seem even smaller.
When he reached Charles, Max’s lips curved into a slight smile. It wasn’t a warm smile but one that spoke of something more complicated. It was more of an “I see you,” and Charles’s pulse quickened at the thought.
“Charles,” Max’s voice was smooth, deep, with a quiet confidence that sent a shiver through him. There was a hint of amusement in the way he said his name, like he found something interesting about the situation, as he could already see the layers to him that Charles himself hadn’t yet discovered.
“Max,” Charles replied, his voice betraying him with a slight tremor. He didn’t expect the man’s presence to still have such an effect on him. As they sat, Max leaned in slightly, his posture relaxed but somehow commanding. He didn’t need to speak loudly, didn’t need to announce his dominance. It was inherent in the way he held himself. The way the world seemed to shift for him.
Charles saw Fred out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to scurry over, carrying a neat glass of whiskey for Max. Max kept his eyes on Charles as Fred placed the glass on the table. Charles let out an easy smile at him, Max, however, didn’t even acknowledge him. Fred seemed to take the hint from how Max acted and simply left them alone. Charles had been prepared for this, or so he thought. Yet, in the quiet intensity of the moment, he felt exposed.
The low hum of conversations and the subtle clink of glassware filled the air, and the neon lights from outside began to cast muted colours across the room, purples and blues mixed with amber from the hanging lamps. Charles liked working here because it was a place you could disappear into. For Charles, this felt oddly comforting. It wasn’t the kind of place you brought someone you didn’t know, especially for a first date, but Charles was sure Max chose to meet here to give Charles some comfort. Max Verstappen, Charles had heard his name before, his name carried some weight. But here Charles was, sitting at the bar, waiting for him.
They shared a drink in silence, the distance between them narrowing with every passing moment. Every word, every look from Max seemed deliberate. There was no sense of small talk here. Each sentence held weight. “So,” Max finally broke the silence, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me about you.”
Charles exhaled slowly, trying to regain some composure. “Not much to tell, I work here and work other places as well.” Max nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Charles’s. “And you like it? Bartending, I mean.” His gaze was intense as if the very answer to that question might reveal everything there was to know about Charles.
Charles’s chest tightened. “I mean, it’s fun... sometimes stressful, other times. It pays the bills. It gives me a sense of normality. It’s real, you know? You can see so many different people in one place, all coming here for one thing.”
A flicker of something crossed Max’s face- an unreadable expression. Then his lips twitched into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, one that made Charles wonder if he had something wrong or if he’d said exactly what Max had wanted to hear.
“You like things that are real,” Max murmured as if to himself. Charles didn’t know how to respond. Was that a compliment? A statement of fact? There was an undercurrent to his words that felt like a challenge or perhaps something else entirely. He wanted to understand. But at the same time, something in Max’s presence kept him at arm’s length, as if he was standing on the edge of a precipice, unsure of what would happen if he stepped too far. When footsteps came closer to their small booth, Fred seemed to sense the tension building between them both. He came over with a quiet nod. His voice was steady. “If you two want more privacy, the VIP booth upstairs is free. It’s much quieter.”
Max raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Charles. Charles hesitated, feeling a strange pull towards the idea of something more intimate, something away from the noise. He wasn’t sure why the suggestion felt so alluring, but everything in him screamed that it was the next logical step. The air between them had thickened, laden with an intensity that wasn’t easily ignored. “Yeah,” Charles said, his voice slightly rougher than he intended. “Let’s do that.”
Fred nodded, heading back to the bar. Max got up, stretching a hand towards Charles to help him out of the booth. Charles’s face flushed slightly, he grabbed Max’s hand and got out of the booth, wobbling slightly. If people were to look at him, he’d seem like a baby deer that was learning how to walk. “Careful,” Max’s voice was spoken softly into his ear, steadying him.
Max led them through the doors at the end of the bar up towards the private area. It was a bit more extravagant than the rest of the bar. The atmosphere here was one of subtle luxury, understated but rich in its design and purpose, refuge from the bustle of the bar, and anything could happen in the shadows of its quiet corners. A small bar tucked into the far corner of the room was stocked with the finest spirits, there was an undeniable sense of discretion in this area. The dimly lit room was bathed in warm, golden hues from ornate sconces mounted along the walls, casting a soft glow that illuminated the plush leather seating. The chairs were large and deep, upholstered in dark mahogany with just enough room to stretch out without feeling exposed. A long, polished wooden table ran down the centre of the room, its surface gleaming softly under the ambient lighting.
As they sat down, Charles couldn’t help but feel exposed. Max settled in across from him, his posture still relaxed but predatory in its own way. His eyes were darker in the dim light, and there was something in them that sent a shiver down Charles’s spine. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick, charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. It was as if the entire was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. “I like it here,” Max finally said, his voice low, his eyes never leaving Charles’s. There was a possessiveness in his tone, a subtle assertion of control that made Charles’s heart beat faster. “It is quiet. No distractions.”
Charles’s breath hitched. He didn’t know why the words unsettled him but also comforted him. Perhaps it was the way they hung in the air, weighted with an unspoken understanding. Or perhaps it was the way Max looked at him as if he could see right through him. “I don’t know if I'm used to… this,” Charles admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s hard to get used to a person like you.”
Max leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto Charles’s. There was no mockery in his eyes, no judgement- just an undeniable tension, a pull that made Charles feel both safe and completely out of his depth at the same time. “Maybe it’s because you haven’t figured me out yet,” Max said, his voice soft but deliberate. “Maybe you don’t want to.” Charles had to remind himself that this was just a date. Just two people getting to know each other, right? But then, Max leaned even closer, his breath warm against Charles’s ear as he whispered, “I can be exactly what you want me to be, Charles. But the question is- what do you want from me?”
The words hung in the air, charged and dangerous as if Max were daring him to take that next step. Charles wasn’t sure what to say. The man sitting across wasn’t just dangerous- he was everything Charles didn’t know he wanted. The tension between them was palpable, and yet, he felt powerless to break it. “I… I don’t know,” Charles finally said, his voice shaky.
Max’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “That’s alright,” he said quietly. “we’ll figure it out.” The tension between them wasn’t something they could ignore. And Charles had no idea how he was going to navigate whatever this was- this force of nature that was Max Verstappen. But for the first time, he was going to take a leap. He owed it to himself.
Charles lets out a soft breath. ‘It was now or never.’ His hand moved subtly, brushing against Max’s. It’s a small, deliberate gesture, one that leads to an electric pause before he closes the distance. The kiss is tentative at first, hesitant yet charged with emotion. It’s a bold move from Charles. He breaks the small kiss. “Do you even know what you are doing to me?” Max’s voice is low, a growl laced with anger and longing. Max’s hand brushes the edge of the table, fingers twitching like he’s fighting the urge to reach out.
Max’s jaw tightens, the mask of control slipping ever so slightly. He leans in closer, their faces inches apart. He finally moves, his hand cupping the other man’s face with surprising gentleness. There’s a moment of hesitation, the briefest moment. Then he kisses him- hard, fierce, as if trying to claim what he’s been denying himself for so long. Charles freezes, caught between resistance and surrender, before his resolve shatters. He kisses back with equal intensity, their emotions spilling over like a broken dam.