Chapter Text
The collar is followed by a kiss, their first kiss. It’s only a brush of their lips designed to be captured by the photographers present, but Charles can’t help but analyse every second of it. As the crowd lets out what feels like a roar of cheers, Charles’s only thoughts are of the way Max has wrapped one strong arm around his waist and pulled him in firmly. How he’s used that same grip to tilt the omega slightly to get the perfect angle, and how their scents have melded together in sync with their lips. His heart is still fluttering in his chest as he stares out at the crowd of both strangers and friends when, without warning, Max reaches down and scoops him up as though he weighs nothing at all. Charles squeals with surprise and instinctively reaches up, wrapping his arms around Max’s neck to steady himself to whoops and cheers from the audience and an “Oi, oi, oi!” that he recognises as having come from Max’s former teammate and close friend, Daniel Ricciardo.
Of course, he knows in theory what it is like to be someone’s omega, but it feels almost surreal that Max is already treating him with this kind of casual affection. Holding him in front of the whole world, like this is a love match after all. Charles finds himself unable to do much beyond waving to the smiling faces watching them walk away. He tries not to look for his family and wonder what they make of this. This is the rest of his life, and he is going to have to start living it without wondering what they think of his decisions.
Waiting for them at Max’s request is his Aston Martin Valkyrie as their quote-unquote ‘getaway car’. Charles tries his best not to be too impressed as Max manages to reach down with one hand to open the car while still holding onto him. The presence of the Alpha’s brand-new custom car had been one of the few details of the ceremony that Max had taken any interest in. While he’d been planning their exit from the track, he’d received one of only a dozen messages from Max over the months of planning in which he’d been involved, asking that he be allowed to drive Charles away from the ceremony in his new supercar. It’s too low to the ground for Max to actually deposit him in the seat, but he can tell from the Alpha’s face that he would if he had the opportunity. Instead, he gently places Charles down and waits as he climbs into the passenger seat. Once the Alpha seems sure that Charles has situated himself, he nods once and then closes the door behind him before making his way around to the other side of the vehicle.
“You okay?” Max asks him as the sea of white flowers disappears into the distance, and Charles looks over at him, somewhat surprised by the question. He thought he’d done well at smiling throughout the ceremony, at looking as happy as he was supposed to be.
“Yes, Sir... are you?” he responds, with a slight edge of nerves in his voice. After all this time spent making sure everything would be perfect, he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear it if he had failed at the last hurdle, or if he had somehow disappointed his new Alpha only minutes into their claim, before the Dutchman’s bite is even on his skin.
“Better now it’s just us. I hate... being a spectacle.” Max replies, his eyes fixed firmly on the road in front of them as though he is trying hard not to catch any glimpses of the sea of tulips behind them.
“Oh, so it wasn’t your idea to dress up as an elf for all those Red Bull promo videos?” Charles asks, the memory of a younger version of his new Alpha standing in fake snow next to Daniel as Saint Nicholas suddenly flashing through his mind. It seems to him that Max has done his best so far to make him comfortable, and so it feels only right that he should do the same.
Max looks at him with genuine surprise. “That was one time, and years ago. I was just doing what Daniel suggested.” He defends, as Charles allows a cheeky smile to play on his lips. “Besides, I didn’t know you kept up to date on Red Bull promotional content.”
Most of the statement is light-hearted, but there is a heaviness that lingers underneath it, as though the sentence should actually end with, “I didn’t know you kept up with Red Bull promotional content anymore.” Because F1 isn’t his business anymore; the sphere has rejected him and his body. His stomach curls angrily for a moment before Charles shakes off the weight he’s mentally added to their light banter and replies, “I am, of course, tying myself to you for the rest of my life. I thought I should know what the rest of the world has seen of you.”
“If I’d known you were watching, maybe I wouldn’t have let them post shit like that.” Max huffs to himself, though there is no real weight to it.
“I’m afraid anyone you claimed would have access to your social media history, Sir, including the fact that you used to hit on Susie Wolff.” Charles isn’t sure where the confidence to rib the Alpha has come from. After all, he’d promised himself that he was going to be nothing but the picture of a perfect and demure omega for at least the first few weeks of the claim, or at least until he figured out what sort of omega Max was expecting him to be. But it seems that as soon as he is alone in a car with Max, everything he spent months preparing for goes completely out of the window.
“I did not!” Max snaps back immediately, his eyes leaving the road to stare at Charles, seemingly stunned by the accusation. There is, however, no real bite to his rebuttal, no threat that he will use his voice to shut the conversation down, no disappointment over Charles’s bravery. Already, his former rival is nothing like Charles imagined he would be.
“You left a kissing emoji on a picture of her in a holiday hat. If that is not being, as they say, down bad, I do not know what is.” Charles responds with a smile, unable to stop himself.
To his relief, Max huffed out something that was suspiciously close to a laugh. It was nice to see the Alpha start to relax a little. Max had been so distant in the lead-up to the claim, which Charles had guessed might have had something to do with his management, since they were never keen for him to contact the other man directly. But it had left him with nerves about what their life together was going to be like, whether they were going to end up like a couple in one of the period dramas he liked to shame-watch with his Maman, who lived in separate places and came together only to make an heir. Even during the ceremony, Max had seemed tense, though Charles wondered if that might have been because he was focusing on the French words he needed to speak in order to make the whole thing legal. Seeing some of that tension start to lift was a relief, a good omen for what was to come.
“It is good.” Max said after his eyes had returned to the road, causing Charles to snap back to the present.
“Sorry, what is good, Sir?” The omega asked, trying to remember what he had been saying before they’d gotten onto the topic of Susie Wolff and sun hats.
“That you still watch F1 content.” Max responded. His tone was the same as before: matter-of-fact, unemotional, but Charles still felt the weight of the words. “I looked you up too.” The Alpha added. “Of course, there is less to find about you, but I saw the charity posts, the articles about your work. It’s impressive.”
Charles blinked, momentarily shocked into silence. He’d known that Max would have been handed some kind of folder with up-to-date information about him, one that told him he could carry children and that he’d be a good PR match, but for some reason he’d never considered that Max might have been sitting on his phone looking at the photos Charles posted to Instagram or Twitter the same way he had been doing for the Alpha.
“You looked me up?” he repeated slightly dumbly, his fingers suddenly reaching to fiddle with the bouquet still clutched in his hands.
Max looked back over at him, clearly confused by the question. “Charles, you’re going to be my omega. Of course I looked you up. You’re going to be living with me. I wanted to at least know what you’ve been doing for the last eight years.”
Charles flushed, realising how naïve he probably seemed. He really had been acting like this was 1812 and Max had simply picked his portrait out of many that had been delivered to him in order to choose an omega. This was 2021. They had mobile phones and social media. Of course Max had checked out what he was up to.
“Of course... right.” Charles muttered, staring at his lap and cringing at his own naivety. He stared out of the window, trying to think of something else to say.
“Everyone only has very nice things to say about you.” Max said after a moment’s silence. “Of course everyone in Monaco knows you, but they all like you very much.”
“You asked people in Monaco about me?” It was probably another stupid question, but Charles couldn’t help asking it anyway. Why had nobody mentioned that Max Verstappen had been going around the principality on a fact-finding mission about him? Why hadn’t the Alpha just messaged him instead?
“Well, yes.” Max responded, and if Charles wasn’t mistaken, it seemed that the world champion’s own cheeks had darkened a bit in colour at the question. “I needed to know what you like, if there are places you visit a lot. I don’t want you to be miserable.”
The comment felt very honest, perhaps more honest than the Alpha had meant it to be, and Charles took a minute to process how real the man beside him had just become. Max cared; that much was becoming evident. The Alpha was concerned for his wellbeing and for his happiness, and Charles didn’t quite know what to do with that information.
As he digested it, the short drive to the reception led them along the coastline, the waves lapping at the rocks alongside them. Even when his stomach fluttered with lingering embarrassment and uncertainty, Charles could never not be somewhat comforted by the familiar shape of his home.
“I do not want you to be miserable either.” He finally managed after a moment, his fingers having made their way up to touch the brand-new weight of the collar around his neck while he thought. He didn’t hate the cool weight of the metal the way he had worried he might. In fact, there was something almost comforting about its presence. The reminder that he belonged to someone now, that he had a purpose again. Perhaps he would never be Ferrari’s hope, but someone had chosen him.
“Is it too tight?” Max was watching him again, fingers gesturing to the collar around his neck. “Of course I had your measurements, and I asked my mother’s advice... but she said that all omegas are different, and you never seemed to wear any necklaces for me to work out what you’d like.”
The words that left the Alpha now reminded Charles very much of a younger version of Max, one who was desperately trying to explain a choice to a steward or to his father. One who was afraid of what would happen if he’d made a mistake, if he’d miscalculated.
“Non... no... it’s fine. Good. It fits nicely.” Charles responds, letting his hand drop back to gripping his bouquet. He’d like to say more, but at this point they’d run out of road to continue getting to know one another, and Charles almost found himself wishing that he’d picked a reception venue further away from the ceremony. In the planning stages, he’d wanted to make sure that he had the option to spend as little time alone with the Alpha as possible before he absolutely had to, having worried that when all was said and done, all that would exist between them would be the remnants of childhood rivalry and duty.
But now, instead, he wished he could spend longer just driving around with his new Alpha rather than being passed from dry conversation to dry conversation with guests he mostly barely knew. In front of them, the iconic silhouette of Villa La Vigie loomed. Though Charles had visited multiple times in the last few months to meet with the planners and instruct them it still felt strange to him that he was actually going to be hosting an event of his own at a place that had seemed so out of his reach in childhood. To people like Max, Monaco was somewhere they moved to, they aspired to. But it had been all Charles had ever known, each street had it’s own weight, it’s own history and meaning. And having his claiming reception at Villa La Vigie, that meant he was someone in Monaco now, he had arrived in the world.
The villa that had once belonged to Karl Lagerfeld stood bright against the blue of the waves with it’s stark white stone, more white tulips lined the bath up to the historic house with the same dots of carnation red. A scattering of sports cars were already parked in front of it signalling that many of the receptions attendees had already arrived and if Charles listened closely enough he could hear songs from the playlist he had spent so long selecting drifting from the party. This was his event, that he’d dedicated the last few months of his life to planning and yet he felt so disconnected from it. This was a party for a version of him that he’d been planning on becoming once he was claimed, but so far was yet to materialise.
“I wish we did not have to go in.” He said without thinking about it.
Beside him, Max made a noise of agreement, and Charles started, for the first time, to imagine the two of them as a united front. Of course, he knew that Max was not a fan of public-facing events. Anyone with even a baseline knowledge of the Red Bull driver knew that. But Charles was starting to be able to picture a world where he and Max were in it together.
Just for a moment, neither of them moved. They stayed in the fragile but comfortable bubble that had formed around them over the short drive to the villa. Charles exhaled as he listened to the sounds of the people who had simply been names on paper coming to life through gentle chatter, glasses clinking together, and soft piano music. He knew the next step. He and Max would be photographed in front of the house while the rest of their guests made their way over from the ceremony. He knew every step. It was a dance he had helped choreograph, and yet it all felt foreign to him now.
“Thanks.” Max said rather suddenly.
Charles looked away from the historic home and back at the Alpha sitting beside him, his nose catching a slight whiff of nerves from the other man. Charles raised an eyebrow, his fingers reaching once again to play with the ribbon around his bouquet. “For what?”
“Planning all of this. I'd have been shit at it.” the Alpha responded frankly, gesturing towards the path of tulips that was still waiting for them. Once again, Charles could sense that Max was speaking from a place of deep sincerity, and he was about to respond when suddenly his view was filled by their chief wedding planner and a very harassed-looking aide.
“There you are, Mr Verstappen. I'm sorry to rush you, but we need to have the bonded portraits done before your family and His Highness arrive.” The woman spoke directly to Max as though she had not been dealing almost exclusively with Charles for the last few months. Charles had expected it, of course. To disappear entirely behind the Verstappen name as soon as he was claimed. He had seen it happen to enough omegas he had gone to school with, raced with. Claimed by some stockbroker, business owner, or heiress, and suddenly they became a footnote in conversation. A decoration at their own party. That did not mean he liked it any better now that it had happened to him.
“Alright.” Max responded. His hand tightened around the steering wheel for a brief moment before he nodded to himself and climbed out of the car. Charles let out a quiet sigh and started to adjust himself when, to his surprise, Max appeared beside the passenger door and pulled it open for him. It might not be 1812, but Max seemed determined to act the gentleman anyway.
The Alpha offered him a hand, and Charles could not help but smile as he accepted it. His inner omega practically purred as Max helped him to his feet, the larger man's hand sliding naturally from his to settle at the small of his back. It was a protective hold. One that told the world they were one. That Charles belonged to Max. Contrary to everything he had expected, Charles found himself enjoying it.
The next hour passed in a series of smiles and poses. The cast of people beside them was ever-changing. Some of them were the people Charles loved most in the world. Some he was meeting for the very first time. But throughout all of it, there was one constant. The touch of his new Alpha grounding him. No matter what pose the photographer asked of them, Max found a way to touch him. A steady hand on his waist. Their fingers intertwined. Even another brief brush of their lips that left Charles's cheeks warm despite himself.
Eventually, after many different combinations of people and poses the photographer declared himself satisfied and released them into the reception. Charles wished that he felt relieved that he would now be able to go and have conversations with people that he knew, that he might even be able to leave Max’s side. But instead he felt nervous. He wasn’t facing his family, friends and the public as his old self, Charles Leclerc. Instead he had to face them as this new model, as Charles Verstappen.
Max seemed to be at least somewhat on the same page, despite their obligation to touch being over the Alpha kept his grip on his waist as though he didn’t know what would happen if he let go. “Ready?” The Dutchman asked in his ear, so close that it was almost like another kiss.
“Not even a little.” Charles responded, they’d only been claimed for an hour or so but the omega already found himself being a little more honest than he’d been as Charles Leclerc. Charles Verstappen it seemed matched the straight-forward way that his Alpha expressed himself. Max barked a half laugh in his ear before he began leading Charles around the back of the villa and into their reception.
Charles could not help himself from making sure that everything looked the way it was supposed to. He had not spent months agonising over the strings of fairy lights overhead and centrepieces that cost more per bouquet than most of his wardrobe for them to look wrong on the day.
His gaze swept across the room automatically, checking place settings, floral arrangements, and lighting placements with the practised eye of someone who had stared at seating charts for so long they had started appearing in his dreams.
He spotted his maman sitting at one of the tables with Lorenzo, Charlotte and, to his surprise, Max's mother, Sophie. Charles had been somewhat afraid that his family would isolate themselves during the reception, refusing to partake in any kind of mingling due to their disapproval of his choice in the first place. But he supposed they had probably found themselves seated together after the family portraits had finished, and it seemed that the two mothers had found something in common to discuss. The sight eased something inside him. He longed to go over and join them, to spend time with the people who were familiar and safe, but he knew it was not really an option as he and Max began their circuit of the room.
He smiled for sponsors, greeted Red Bull employees, and forced polite laughter at several crude jokes from Alphas he suspected had been some of Max's school friends. Generally, he tried not to think too much as he began fulfilling what was essentially a lifelong contract of socialisation. This was what Red Bull had wanted him for: to smile, to smooth rough edges, and act as a balm to Max's harshness. And now it was time to perform.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when he found himself face to face with Christian Horner. He'd dealt with a lot of the staff at Red Bull over the past few months, but never the team principal directly. He'd always assumed that the Brit had better things to do than help with Max's supposed PR crisis.
"Great job at the ceremony, Max." Christian greeted, offering the Alpha a hug and causing Max to temporarily break his hold on Charles's waist in order to return it. "Gemma has already sent me some of the pictures, and it's a great start. It really helps us with Hamilton plastering pictures of him and Rosberg all over social media. I'll make sure we tag Charles and get people following him as soon as possible."
Charles supposed that the older man didn't need to pretend that this was anything more than a contract. But he still felt his cheeks heat up a little as the Alpha spoke about what was a commitment for the rest of his life as though it were nothing more than another Red Bull PR event. Max's arm, which had already returned to his waist, tightened around him slightly.
"I don't give a shit about that." Max responded flatly, and Charles had to use every ounce of self-control to stop his eyebrows from shooting up. "You haven't congratulated my omega."
Christian laughed almost indulgently, with an air that reminded Charles of someone humouring a child, before moving his gaze over to Charles for the first time.
"Congratulations, Charles. I'm looking forward to working with you."
Beside him, Max tensed even further, clearly not happy with this attempt at congratulations. Charles's omega whined internally: Alpha is unhappy. We should fix it.
"There are already a mountain of requests from our sponsors for content with Charles in them." The team principal added, clearly not sensing his driver's mood.
"That is wonderful to hear, sir." Charles responded, reaching down with one hand to smooth his thumb over the scent gland on Max's wrist that was still clutching his waist. "I, of course, look forward to doing whatever I can to help Max. I think we will have a great partnership together."
Christian was about to respond when they were interrupted by a fourth participant joining the conversation.
"That'd be a change." Jos Verstappen offered, appearing beside the other Alpha with his hand clasped tightly around a glass of champagne. His eyes flicked up and down Charles.
Beside him, Max tensed. Of course he remembered Max's father from his karting days. Remembered how he'd screamed at Max when he'd lost to Charles. Remembered the other kids saying that it was best to avoid the Dutchman's van, that nobody wanted to hang out with Max after races because "his dad is psycho."
"Jos." Christian greeted, his tone warm and inviting.
Jos, however, ignored him entirely, his attention seemingly fixed on Charles. His eyes scanned him, assessing him as though he were still Max's rival on track, a threat to Max's eventual path to victory. Or perhaps he was simply looking at how far his son's old adversary had fallen. The race suits he'd always worn when he'd met the man before had been replaced with lace and silk, the only prize he possessed now a collar around his neck rather than a trophy in his hands.
"Never thought I'd be sharing a last name with you." The Dutchman said, gesturing to Charles. "Considering the grief you used to give us on track, I always told Max he should put you in your place. Can't say I'd imagined it would be like this."
Charles watched the smile on Christian's face become a little less genuine, the team principal shifting uncomfortably beside them. He wondered if his own smile had become wooden.
"Charles is family now." Max interjected firmly. "I'm not putting him anywhere."
Across from them, Jos barked a laugh, his beady eyes looking between Charles and Max as though he were trying to work out what game they were playing.
"I'm just saying that we all have our roles to play, and I'm glad your new omega has found his now."
Charles understood exactly what Jos meant, what he was telling Charles without saying it outright. That Charles belonged at the side of an Alpha, not racing, not fighting Max for podiums. Just smiling and spreading his legs.
All at once, he was sixteen again and realising that he would never make it to Formula One. He was watching the way the boys who had once accepted him with ease now expected him to bow and make himself small for them. He was sitting in a doctor's office with questions being directed to Lorenzo or his father instead of to him. The only future he had now depended on what his Alpha allowed him to participate in.
"Dad." Max said, his voice quiet but almost dangerous. "Enough. Go and find Sandy."
The smell of an Alpha asserting their will hung in the air, and Christian suddenly found something very fascinating to look at on the other side of the garden as father and son faced off against one another.
"Don't be a bitch, Max. I was just welcoming your new omega to the family." Jos responded, squaring his shoulders slightly as Max moved to stand slightly in front of Charles, clearly not backing down despite his father's unwillingness to yield.
"No, you weren't." Max snapped back, and there was an edge of a growl in his voice.
Charles knew he should only be angry with Jos, but his stupid inner omega was purring at the way his Alpha was defending him. At the fact that the blond had physically put his body between Charles and the potential threat.
"Pussy-whipped already, I see." Jos sneered, and to Charles's surprise, an actual growl left Max's lips.
"Or I just don't treat the people I claim like shit."
The accusation was almost snarled from the Alpha's lips, and even Christian choked a little on the sip of champagne he'd just taken.
A tense silence followed as father and son stared at each other. Charles knew how involved Jos still was with Max's career, that the version of Max he'd known had always been terrified of letting his father down. So he chose to defend his Alpha right back, to protect Max the way the blonde had done for him.
"Sir, I think they wanted us to take photos up on the balcony before it gets dark." He said gently into Max's ear, moving his thumb over the scent gland once more and trying to project the calming omega scent that was supposed to be one of his main uses to the hot-tempered Dutchman. "We should probably find the photographer before he comes looking for us. He seemed rather stressed before."
"Sounds like a good idea, Max. I'll make sure your dad enjoys the rest of the party." Christian offered, holding a hand in mid-air as though he wanted to pat Jos on the back without actually having the nerve to make physical contact.
“Fuck off Christian.” Jos responded immediately, before fixing Max with a stare once again. “We zullen het hier later over hebben.” Charles wasn’t sure what the other man said, but Max didn’t respond to it keeping his hold on Charles until his father disappeared. Only once the elder Verstappen had disappeared into the crowd did he release his hold a little on him, and take a breath.
“Make sure one of your people keeps an eye on him.” He half barked at Christian before very suddenly leading Charles back into the thick of the party. They didn’t have a chance to talk about the exchange as the evening went on and luckily it seemed as though nobody had noticed much. Charles made small talk with people from the team, received more sincere congratulations from people who knew him from his charity work, and tried not to be completely exhausted by the time night fell or too nervous about what came next.