The Right Time (Lestappen)

A Gift

TW: There are some brief mentions of homophobic attitudes and jokes/comments in this chapter, just giving a warning in case you want to avoid that. 

Thank you so much to everyone for reading and for comments and votes. I thought I may as well post this earlier than I intended because it was ready to go, next chapter will probably be at the weekend (I'm awful at keeping to a schedule!!)

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Charles made his way through the paddock with a look of steely determination on his face. He was sure that this was going to be a good weekend. The race was in Italy, the home of Ferrari, and all that mattered was standing on the top step of that podium come Sunday. No more distractions. No more thinking about Max. No more talking to Max. No more Max.

"Charles, Charles"

Charles gritted his teeth as he heard the Red Bull driver calling him. He picked up his pace pretending he hadn't heard but Max soon caught him up, looking a little annoyed at being made to chase him through the paddock.

"Charles, can we talk?" Max was a little breathless.

Charles observed him closely, he seemed to be rocking back and forth on his heels, like he had an excess of nervous energy. His arms were crossed across his body and his eyes were fixed anywhere but on Charles. He was nervous about something but Charles didn't have time to worry about him so he continued walking.

"It's important" Max said pleadingly reaching out and grabbing Charles by the wrist to stop him from leaving.

"Then why don't you talk to Lewis about it?" Charles knew it was a childish dig but still he didn't care.

"What? No, I want to talk to you." Max responded, a little flustered.

"Why? Why do you want to talk to me? Are we even friends? Or have we just been thrown together by circumstance the past few months?"

Charles didn't mean to be quite so brutal but Max wasn't taking the hint.

"Charles-" Max started to try and explain but was cut off.

"Max please, I have enough friends. I don't want to talk to you. Just leave me alone."

Charles carried on walking, keeping up a brisk pace until he was far enough away. He didn't want to be unkind but he also didn't want to think about Max, not today, not this weekend, not ever. He just wanted to get on with racing.

Max watched as the Ferrari driver disappeared out of view. He had no clue what he had done to upset Charles but he also knew when he wasn't wanted. If Charles wanted him to stay away then that was what he was going to do.

He left Charles alone all day Friday and all day Saturday, even when Charles claimed pole Max simply walked by without congratulating him. He sat next to him in the post-qualifying press conference and kept his gaze fixed forward, never turning to Charles, never interacting with him. That didn't mean he wasn't thinking about him. He thought about him all day Friday and all day Saturday and when Charles claimed pole he congratulated him silently in his head. In the press conference he felt the presence of the other driver next to him, he fought an overwhelming desire to look at him or talk to him. The more he tried to avoid him the more he thought about him.

It was only on the Sunday when he had seen Charles getting out of his car, disheartened at dropping back to ninth, that Max had gone to him and placed a reassuring arm on his shoulder to try and console him. Charles had simply brushed off the gesture and wondered off without even congratulating Max on his victory.

Charles felt that everything was falling down around him. He had a good car, a great car even but luck never seemed to be on his side. Whether it was reliability or strategic calls, he just felt that he couldn't show everyone what he could really do. It felt painful to see Max and Lewis breaking away in the championship when he wanted to be there with them, fighting them every step of the way.

He didn't even have the energy for the post race briefing and simply sat resigned to the fact that maybe this wasn't his year. In the back of his mind he wondered whether it would ever be his year. He was packing up his stuff ready to leave for the day when he saw Max approaching. He was wearing the stupid flat brimmed cap that Charles hated and was dressed in a Red Bull polo, he even had a can of Red Bull in his hand, he couldn't have stood out more in the Ferrari motorhome if he had tried. He looked like a walking advertisement for Red Bull and yet Charles couldn't help but think he still looked hot. Annoying but hot.

Max tried to look confident, like he belonged there, like he was simply going to speak to a fellow a racer but he could see the curious eyes on him as he made his way towards Charles. He decided to keep it brief.

"I know you don't want to speak to me but I want you to have this."

He handed over the small parcel that he had been carrying around all weekend. The small parcel that he had tried to wrap and make presentable. The small parcel that he had been so excited to hand to Charles until Charles had told him to leave him alone. He had decided that even though Charles may not want him, he still wanted Charles to have the gift he had bought. He handed it over and turned around to leave without saying a word. He saw some of the guys smirking and laughing at him, one of them wolf whistled as he walked out of the door. He could have sworn someone had called him princess but maybe that was just his paranoia.

Charles stuffed the parcel into his bag, feeling a little embarrassed by the reaction of some of the Ferrari crew that were eyeing him suspiciously.

"Looks like someone has an admirer" one of them joked.

"This is what happens when you let gay men in a male dominated sport. Probably making his way down the grid, you should watch your back Charles if you don't want to get rear ended. " another chipped in sending them all into fits of giggles.

Charles felt sick in the pit of his stomach. This was exactly why he didn't feel comfortable coming out. He wanted to scream from the top of lungs but instead he simply gave a half hearted laugh and a nod of the head. It felt like a betrayal, not only to Max but to himself and he hated himself for it. He realised how much of himself he was having to hide away and how each day that he had to keep his true self hidden a little part of his self esteem and self confidence died.

He waited until he got back to his hotel room before he took the parcel back out. It was clumsily wrapped, far too much tape, not quite enough wrapping paper and lots of random rips and bulges in the paper. It made Charles laugh a little, it seemed like Max had attacked the gift and made it surrender to the wrapping. It was missing a delicate touch but yet it was perfect because it seemed like a completely Max thing to do. He smiled for the first time since he had gotten out of the car defeated that afternoon.

There was a note that has been unceremoniously taped to the front and Charles took it off and read it carefully.

To Charles,

I know this is only a replica but I hope that it will provide you some comfort and let you know your dad is still with you in some way.

I'm sorry if I've upset you, I never meant to. If you want to talk I'm in room 37, otherwise I will leave you alone like you asked. I just want you to be happy. I care about you Charles.

Love Max xx

Charles could feel his heart beating faster and faster as he fought his way through the wrapping paper. As he opened the black box he saw an exact copy of the watch that had been stolen in Australia, his dad's watch. He turned it over and could see there was one difference, his dad's name had been engraved on the back. He saw his hands shaking as he tried to fasten it around his wrist. When his watch had been stolen he had felt a part of himself missing, missing that small connection with his father. Suddenly it was like he was here again with him, by his side, protecting him. He found himself crying happy tears. He looked down at the hand-written note and felt like his heart was going to burst.

He realised it was no longer possible to ignore Max because he flooded his thoughts. He re-read the last line over and over 'I care about you Charles'. His mind was racing, imaging all the possibilities of what this could mean. He didn't want to imagine anymore. He needed to go to Max, to thank him. He wanted to hold him, to kiss him and so much more, he wanted all of him.

Before he had even thought it through he found himself sprinting towards room 37. His hands were still shaking and his heart was still pounding. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or what he was going to do but he was sure when he saw Max it would all become clear. He knocked on the door and waited. He was more nervous and excited than he had been about anything in a long while.