Unbroken Hopes|| Charles Leclerc X Max Verstappen(Lestappen)Wildest Dreams Book2 “Good morning, world champion”

Max lay awake in the soft morning light, gazing at the ceiling with a calm smile, his thoughts lingering on the events of the previous day. His emotions were still a bit raw, but in a good way—there was so much to process. Beside him, Charles was fast asleep, his face half-buried in the pillow, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only movement in the room. Max’s gaze softened as he watched his husband, the new Formula 1 World Champion, completely at peace after the most intense battle of his life.

Max couldn’t help but feel proud of him, even though this was the first time in nearly five years that he wasn’t the champion. It felt strange, foreign even, but there was also something deeply satisfying about seeing Charles reach the pinnacle of the sport. He deserved it, without a doubt, and Max had been there to witness his rise every step of the way.

In the days and even weeks prior Max’s thoughts weren’t entirely free of worry. In the back of his mind, a small voice whispered concerns he couldn’t shake—how would people react if he wouldn’t win, like he lost yesterday. The orange army, his legion of passionate fans, had always been fiercely loyal to him. Would they turn on Charles, or be thinking Max hadn’t fought hard enough because they were together? Would they accuse him of going soft in the final battle?

And then there was his father.

Jos Verstappen had always demanded the best of Max, ever since he was a boy. Winning wasn’t just an option; it was the only option. For years, Max had been on top of the world, giving his father everything he’d ever dreamed of. But now, someone else had taken his place. He knew his father adored Charles now—years had passed, and their relationship had softened—but that old fear, the one that lived in the shadows of Max’s mind, still lurked. Would his father have been disappointed?

Max let out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly as he pulled back to the present. He couldn’t dwell on them now. He wasn’t a child anymore, and he knew how to handle his emotions, even if some fears never fully left him. Besides, he couldn’t let those fears cloud the pride he felt for Charles.

Max turned his gaze back to Charles, still sound asleep, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Memories of yesterday flashed through his mind—the celebrations, the chaos, and the overwhelming happiness that followed Charles’s championship win. He remembered how Charles had been wrapped in his mother Pascale’s arms, then his brothers, Arthur and Lorenzo, all of them relieved and overjoyed. The weight of years of hard work and sacrifice had fallen off their shoulders, and Max had stood back, watching with a smile as the moment belonged to Charles and his family.

But even as Max stood back, Pascale hadn’t let him stay there for long. She had pulled him in, her arms wrapping around him as she congratulated him too, not just for his skillful battle but for being right there with Charles, pushing him to be his best. Max had felt his eyes sting with emotion, and though he’d tried to brush it off with a smile, they saw right through him. Pascale had hugged him even tighter, her warmth and acceptance almost overwhelming in the best possible way.

Arthur and Lorenzo had been there too, offering their congratulations, not just for Charles but for Max as well. And then Max had looked over and seen Charles, just released from his own mother’s embrace, being pulled into the arms of Jos. His father, the man who had pushed him so hard for so many years, was there, clapping Charles on the back with a proud smile. That moment had filled Max’s heart with joy. Seeing his father proud of Charles, too, made everything feel even more perfect. In the back of his mind he always kept longing for his approval.

Max had hesitated for a second before approaching his own family. The little fear about what they might say had still been there, but his worries had quickly melted away. His sister Victoria had cracked a joke, teasing him in that sibling way that always made him roll his eyes but laugh at the same time. His mom had hugged him tightly, her smile telling him that she was just as proud of him as she had been every other time he’d crossed the finish line in first place. His dad had patted him on the back, telling him how proud he was of the fight, and for the first time, Max didn’t feel like he had to prove anything more to him.

The shrill beeping of the alarm broke through Max’s thoughts, snapping him back to the present. Charles groaned beside him, blindly reaching out to smack the clock and missing several times before finally burying his head under the pillow in defeat.

“Make it stop,” Charles mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. Max chuckled, the sound low and warm as he leaned over to turn the alarm off himself.

Charles let out a muffled thank you, still refusing to emerge from beneath the pillow. Max grinned, unable to resist prying it out of his hands and tossing it aside. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Charles’s lips.

“Good morning, world champion,” Max whispered, his voice filled with pride.

Charles smiled against his lips, his eyes still half-closed. “That sounds really nice,” he murmured, his voice sleepy but content.

They stayed like that for a few moments, wrapped up in each other, the world outside their room feeling distant and irrelevant. Max’s arms held Charles close, their legs tangled under the covers as the weight of everything that had happened yesterday slowly settled in. The last few months had been a rollercoaster of emotions, and now, for the first time in what felt like forever, they could simply be. They didn’t have to think about races or strategies or lap times. It was just them.

But as much as they wanted to stay in bed, reality came knocking.

“Charlie, you’ve got to get up,” Max said gently, his hand brushing through Charles’s messy hair. “It’s time for your winner’s interview.”

Charles groaned again, rolling over and trying to hide under the blankets. “Why do they have to film that the morning after?” he grumbled. “I’m fucking hungover.”

Max’s laughter filled the room, the sound deep and throaty. “Because, Charles, they love to bully us world champions.”

Charles laughed too, despite himself, but it was followed by a long sigh. “Four championships, and you still haven’t been able to change that?”

Max rolled his eyes playfully, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at Charles’s head. “Well, maybe the new world champion can give it a try.”

They laughed together, the tension of the morning breaking as they teased each other. Slowly, Charles dragged himself out of bed, still grumbling about the unfairness of having to do interviews when all he wanted was to sleep off the celebration.

Max stood up too, watching as Charles got dressed. There was something bittersweet about the moment. He had won four championships, and now it was Charles’s turn. And though it stung just a little, it also filled Max with an overwhelming sense of pride. This was what they had worked for, together and separately. And now, Charles was at the top of the world.

Before Charles left the room, Max pulled him into a hug, resting his chin on top of his head. “Go knock ’em dead, Charlie.”

Charles smiled, kissing Max on the cheek. “I will. Thanks, Max.”

And with that, Charles was out the door, ready to face the world as the new World Champion. Max stood there for a moment, alone in the quiet room, smiling to himself.

After Charles left for his winner’s interview, the hotel room fell into a peaceful quiet. Max stood there for a moment, staring at the door before a small smile crept onto his face. It had been a whirlwind of emotions over the past 24 hours, and for the first time in a while, Max felt at ease. Yes, he had lost out on his fifth world championship, but in many ways, this win felt just as meaningful. Charles had finally reached the top of the pinnacle of the sport, and Max couldn’t be more proud of him.

He glanced around the room, still strewn with remnants of the celebrations from the night before. Empty champagne flutes and Charles’s discarded clothes from the party littered the floor. Max chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Typical Charles, always leaving a trail of chaos in his wake.

Max had spent so long being on top that it felt strange not to be the champion this year, but watching Charles cross that finish line yesterday had been worth every second of their intense rivalry. Now, Max wanted to do something special for him, something to show just how proud he was. He decided, then and there, that he was going to surprise Charles with a special evening.

The plan began to take shape in his mind. He would take Charles out for a luxurious dinner—someplace where they could celebrate in style, with all of Charles’s favorite foods. He thought back to all the times Charles had mentioned his favorite restaurants, the ones that served the finest Mediterranean dishes, the kinds of meals Max couldn’t care less about but knew Charles loved. Yeah, something like that, Max thought with a grin.

Not wasting any time, Max grabbed his phone and made a few calls. He was meticulous about the details, making sure the restaurant had a table available for the evening and requesting the best seat in the house. It wasn’t every day you treated the new Formula 1 World Champion to a dinner out, after all.

But the dinner was just part of it. Max wanted to make this a night Charles wouldn’t forget, and so he decided to go all in. He headed out to the nearby shops, slipping on a baseball cap and sunglasses to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Despite being recognized a few times, he managed to keep his plan under wraps.

His first stop was to buy something special to wear. Max had never been much for dressing up—he was more comfortable in racing gear or casual jeans and t-shirts—but he knew tonight had to be different. He browsed through the racks of designer clothes, feeling slightly out of his depth as he considered what Charles would like. Casual, but chic. Not too flashy, but something that would catch Charles off guard. After some searching, Max found a well-fitted pair of trousers and a smart, yet relaxed shirt, the kind of attire Charles would probably never expect him to wear.

Max’s eyes caught on a sleek jacket that had been on display. It was the same one Charles had been eyeing for weeks, talking about how good it looked every time they passed by the store. Without hesitation, Max picked it up, imagining the way Charles’s eyes would light up when he saw it.

The final stop was something a bit more personal. Max wandered into a jewelry store, feeling a little nervous. He wasn’t usually the type to buy jewelry, but this was special. He spotted a simple, stylish bracelet—something that wasn’t too flashy but elegant enough for Charles’s tastes. He had it engraved with a message that came straight from his heart: I’m proud of you, champion.

Satisfied with his purchases, Max made his way back to the hotel, already imagining the look on Charles’s face when he walked into the room. He quickly showered, scrubbing away the remnants of last night’s champagne and party, before getting dressed in his new outfit. As he adjusted the collar of his shirt in the mirror, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. He wasn’t used to this kind of attire—it felt almost foreign to him, and he couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. But tonight wasn’t about him. It was about Charles, and that thought alone pushed his insecurities aside.

Just as he finished getting ready, he heard the door click open. Charles stepped into the room, looking exhausted but glowing with the kind of happiness that could only come from being a world champion. He rubbed his eyes and muttered something about how exhausting interviews were before stopping in his tracks, eyes widening as he took in the sight in front of him.

Max stood there, holding a bouquet of flowers with a grin on his face.

“Surprise,” Max said, his voice soft, but there was pride in his eyes.

Charles’s gaze traveled up and down, taking in Max’s attire, his eyes sparkling with a mix of surprise and admiration. “Max, you—what is this? You look… you look amazing!” he exclaimed, still a little stunned.

Max shifted on his feet, a little unsure despite Charles’s compliment. “You like it?” he asked, his voice a bit more hesitant than usual.

Charles set down his bag and walked over to Max, wrapping his arms around him before pulling back slightly to take another look. “Like it? I love it. You look so good, Max. I’ve never seen you in anything like this.”

Max chuckled, his nerves easing as he leaned in for a kiss. “I figured I’d do something different. It’s a special night, after all.”

Charles grinned against his lips, “You did all of this for me?”

“Of course,” Max replied, pulling back just enough to catch Charles’s eyes. “You’re the world champion now, Charlie. You deserve a special night.”

Charles’s smile widened as he leaned into Max’s embrace, resting his forehead against Max’s. “Thank you, Max. This means everything.”

“Wait, there’s more,” Max said, stepping back to reveal the new jacket he had picked up earlier.

Charles’s face lit up as soon as he saw it. “No way! Is that the jacket I’ve been talking about?”

Max nodded, holding it out. “Thought you might like it.”

Charles immediately tried it on, his grin stretching even wider as he admired himself in the mirror. “This is perfect. You’re spoiling me now,” he teased, his voice light and full of affection.

Max smiled, watching Charles’s joy with satisfaction. “You deserve it.”

After a few more moments of soaking in the excitement, Max checked the time. “Alright, time for dinner. Got reservations at your favorite place.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Fancy! Lead the way, Mr. Verstappen-Leclerc.”

They headed out for dinner, the evening settling into a comfortable rhythm. The restaurant Max had chosen was one of Charles’s favorites—elegant, Mediterranean cuisine, with all of Charles’s favorite dishes on the menu. Max couldn’t help but laugh at the way Charles’s eyes lit up as the plates were brought out, filled with rich, flavorful foods that Max didn’t particularly care for but knew Charles would savor.

“I’m just going to say it now,” Max said as he poked at one of the dishes. “I’d much rather be eating a kebab.”

Charles burst out laughing, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Here I am, enjoying a five-star meal, and you’re thinking about kebabs.”

Max grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, I’m doing this for you. Just remember that.”

Charles reached across the table, intertwining their fingers. “I know you are. And I appreciate it more than you know. Even if you’re secretly thinking about fast food.”

As the evening carried on, their plates slowly emptied and the conversation drifted between lighthearted teasing and quieter moments of shared smiles. Max had planned everything so carefully, from the reservation to his outfit, and he had one more surprise up his sleeve for the night. He reached into his pocket and fingered the small, sleek box, his heartbeat quickening slightly.

Charles was still talking, animated as ever, about the interview earlier and how surreal everything felt. “I can’t believe they wanted to ask me about next year already,” Charles said with a laugh, taking a sip of his wine. “I just won the championship yesterday, and they’re already asking if I think I can defend it!”

Max smiled fondly, listening but slightly distracted by the little box burning a hole in his pocket. He decided now was the moment. He waited until Charles paused for a moment, giving him a curious glance, as if sensing something was on Max’s mind.

“Charlie, there’s something else I wanted to give you,” Max said, his voice soft but steady. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the small box, setting it on the table between them.

Charles’s eyes widened in surprise, and a slow smile crept across his face. “What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the box curiously.

Max shrugged, playing it casual despite the small knot of nerves in his stomach. “Just something I thought you might like,” he said, pushing the box toward Charles.

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking between the box and Max, before he finally reached out and opened it. Inside was a sleek, stylish bracelet—simple, but with an elegant, polished finish. Charles’s breath hitched when he saw the engraving on the inner side of the bracelet. His fingers traced over the words softly: I’m proud of you, champion.

Charles blinked, his eyes lifting back to Max, who was watching him closely, his heart in his throat. “Max…” Charles’s voice was barely a whisper. He lifted the bracelet out of the box, turning it over in his hands as though trying to absorb every detail.

Max cleared his throat, his usual confidence wavering for just a second. “I just—well, I thought you should have something to remind you of this moment. Not that you’d ever forget,” he added with a small chuckle, his eyes locking with Charles’s. “But I wanted you to know how proud I am of you. How proud I’ve always been of you, even before yesterday.”

For a moment, Charles couldn’t speak. His thumb brushed over the engraving again, and his eyes shimmered with emotion. “Max… This is perfect,” he finally said, his voice thick. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Max reached across the table, placing his hand on top of Charles’s. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that no matter what happens on the track, you’ve always been a champion to me.”

Charles let out a shaky laugh, wiping at the corner of his eye with his free hand before looking back at Max with a grin. “How did I get so lucky?” he asked, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Max smirked, squeezing Charles’s hand gently. “I think we’re both pretty lucky,” he said, his eyes twinkling with the love they both shared.

Charles slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, admiring how perfectly it fit, and then looked back at Max, his expression soft and filled with gratitude. He leaned over the table and pressed a quick kiss to Max’s lips, whispering, “Thank you. For everything.”

Max grinned, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. “Anytime, champ.”

The rest of the dinner was spent in easy conversation, with Charles occasionally glancing down at his wrist, his fingers brushing over the bracelet as if to remind himself it was real. It was a simple gesture, but one that carried a lifetime of meaning between them—just another symbol of their love, their rivalry, and the deep respect they shared, both on and off the track.

They both laughed, the conversation flowing easily as the night went on. They talked about everything and nothing, their hands remaining clasped on the table, a quiet reminder of the bond between them.

As the night drew to a close, Charles leaned in, his voice soft but playful. “You know, Max… you’re not getting off easy next year. I’m going to fight you just as hard, maybe harder.”

Max smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, don’t worry, Charlie. Next year, I’m getting my fifth championship. Just you wait.”

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling with challenge. “We’ll see about that, Mr. Four-time World Champion.”