brand-new, full-throttle (you already know, babe)
lestappen, gen, 3.4k, getting together, first kiss, polyamory
Halfway across Parc Fermé a voice rings out, loud and Monegasque and happy. It stops his rant in its tracks, pulls his gaze away from the wincing man he calls his race engineer, to stare up and across the insanely large group of people in between himself and the cars parked below the podium.
A blur of red comes running - lightning-fast, pushing through the throng, followed by at least three different cameras. He can feel his eyes growing large at the sight of a windswept Charles Leclerc, fresh race winner of the British GP, rushing to meet him, after he DNFed, no less.
"What?" he asks once more, but the word is forced to die on his tongue, as Charles' happy face comes into focus for the tiniest blink of an eye - the crinkles on the Monegasque's face so pronounced from a blinding smile, it makes the breath freeze inside Max's lungs.
None of it prepares him for the moment their lips meet, though.
or: a kiss shared in parc fermé after the british gp