Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘Max, wait!’ Lando’s voice stopped Max in his tracks in the middle of the paddock.

‘Oh, Lando.’ The Dutchman turned around, trying not to show that he was in a hurry. He was just on his way to the Mercedes motorhome to check on George after the chaos of the Zandvoort race. Still, he felt sorry for Lando’s DNF and didn’t want to dismiss him too quickly.  ‘Sorry about today, it was really unfortunate.’

‘Yeah, about that… Mate, can I ask you for a favour? Today was really shitty and I’m tired… Can I invite myself to your plane?’ Lando’s eyes glistened with hope. ‘We’re both going the same way, so…’

‘Oh, well… Sure, just let me ask if George is okay with it, he’s going with me.’ The Dutchman was already reaching for his phone. 

‘George? George is flying with you?’ Lando was absolutely sure he’d misheard. 

‘Yeah. What, you have some fresh beef with him?’ 

‘No, just… It’s unexpected. You hate George. George hates you. Those are the laws of the universe.’ The Brit stated as if he was reciting the law of gravity. 

‘Lando, you know how the media can exaggerate things. We never hated each other, we just had some… heated exchanges…’ 

Max held his phone up to his ear, not paying much attention to Lando’s shocked state: 

‘Hi, George. Just a quick question: are you okay with Lando also flying with us today? … Yeah. Sure…’ 

Suddenly the Dutchman laughed out loud at something that George’d said and some blush appeared on his cheeks. Lando couldn’t believe his own eyes - Max Verstappen was blushing while talking with George Russell. The world was turning upside down for him. 

‘Okay, schat . See you later.’ Max ended the call with the biggest smile on his face. ‘Yeah, no problem, you can come over. We’ll be taking off in about two hours, so don’t be late.’ 

And just like that Max patted him on the shoulder and turned to walk away. Just as if he hadn’t  made Lando question his own senses. The Brit stayed frozen for a moment before finally pulling himself together:

‘Wait, Max! What… What does ‘schat’ mean?!’ He tried to catch up and interrogate Max further, but the Dutchman had already disappeared into the crowd. 

***

About two hours later Lando was sitting in the comfortable space of Max’s private jet. It wasn’t his first time flying with the Dutchman and he enjoyed those shared flights. Usually he chatted with Max about the GP they’d just finished or took a much needed nap when he was too tired to talk. But this time he was just sitting in his place, unusually quiet, trying to figure out what kind of a version of reality he’d found himself in. 

Across the small space of the plane, George and Max were sitting by each other’s side and they couldn’t stop talking ever since the plane had taken off. They kept rambling on about the race, about what had gone wrong or what they both could have done better. It would be almost normal if not for the fact that George was quite sad and disappointed with finishing P4 and Max seemed to be genuinely consoling him. Not mocking him, not being sarcastic, just comforting him and giving praises for what he’d done well. Lando couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

‘You did the best you could.’ Max’s gentle tone reached Lando’s ears again. ‘Really, George, don’t be too hard on yourself. After that contact with Charles you literally drove with holes in your car and you still held on to that P4. It takes some proper skill to pull that off.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right…’ George sighed and rubbed his eyes, clearly exhausted after the whole day. ‘I’m being overdramatic again.’

‘Yup, just you being a beautiful drama queen. And there’s nothing wrong with that.’ Max nudged George playfully, earning a shy chuckle from the Brit. 

‘Did Max Verstappen just call George Russell beautiful and make him giggle like a schoolboy?!’
The thought screamed loud in Lando’s mind, making him wonder whether he was dreaming, or maybe simply hallucinating after he’d accepted that suspiciously looking can of RedBull from Max at the beginning of the flight. 

‘Lando, are you okay? You look pale.’ George’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. ‘I’m sorry about what happened, you really don’t deserve this… It must be hard sitting here and listening to me complaining about P4 when you couldn’t even finish the race.’

‘Oh, no, it’s alright, mate.’ Lando forced a smile, although he was aware it didn’t look natural. He hoped his friends would think it was because of his terrible race and not because of their behaviour. ‘It’s tough luck, but… Nothing I could do about it. I have to keep looking ahead.’

‘That’s the right way of thinking.’ Max shot him a reassuring smile. ‘You look tired. You can take a nap, don’t mind us.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.’ The younger Brit agreed and reached for the blanket hidden in the glovebox under his seat. He thought that getting some sleep would be much easier than trying to figure out what the hell was happening around him. 

He was genuinely tired, so it didn’t take him long to fall into a soft, comforting slumber. Just at the verge of consciousness, his eyes fluttered open for a moment and he saw Max reaching over to George’s thigh and resting his hand there. The Dutchman leaned towards George and whispered something in his ear, something that made the Brit smile and nuzzle his head affectionately into the crook of Max’s neck. 

But that couldn’t be true, right? Later, when Max woke him up after the landing in Italy, Lando persuaded his own self that what he’d seen had been just a dream, just a figment of his strained mind. He knew better than to believe it had been anything else. Because that would mean George and Max acting as if they were madly in love. And that was simply impossible…

Still, sitting in the taxi on his way to the hotel, he thought that keeping all of that to himself would result in his poor brain just straight up exploding - he needed someone to tell him he was imagining things. With a sigh, he took his phone out of the pouch of his hoodie and typed:

Mate, I don’t know if I’m hallucinating
Maybe Max put something in the RedBull
he gave me 

SmoothOperator 🔥

Lando…
What the hell?
Is it some new prank of yours?

Carlos, I’m serious
I was on a flight with Max
AND GEORGE WAS THERE TOO

SmoothOperator 🔥
Okay
Kind of unusual
But not such a big deal
Maybe George had no other option

It’s not the end 
Max called him ‘beautiful’
And George GIGGLED

SmoothOperator 🔥

…
That’s sus, I’ll give you that
Maybe they drank too much?

That’s the thing, they were dead sober
And at some point…
I don’t know whether I fell asleep already
and it was just some fucked up dream, but
I saw Max…
touching George’s thigh
And George, he… He basically rubbed himself
against him like some freaking cat

SmoothOperator 🔥

STOP RIGHT THERE
I don’t want such images in my mind
You have fucking weird dreams, cabron

But what if it wasn’t a dream?!
What if they’re like…
In love or smth

SmoothOperator 🔥

Lando, please, go to sleep
You need it
Max and George?
Maybe in another universe

Okay, yeah
You’re right
It must have been the RedBull

Chapter Text

‘Yeah, that corner here… I’m not so sure about braking late into it, this can end badly with how our brakes have been feeling lately...’ Carlos was looking over the map of the Monza GP together with his race engineer, trying to come up with the right strategy. ‘Maybe I’ll just ask what Alex thinks about it, we could use some of his insight.’

‘Yeah, good idea. Where is he?’ Gaetan looked up from the screen of his laptop and around the main suite of the Williams motorhome. 

‘Probably in his room, I’ll come and get him.’ The Spaniard offered.

He rushed up the stairs and onto the first floor of the motorhome, feeling particularly energised. Of course the last race had been terrible for him, but being back in Monza brought back good memories from his time at Ferrari and he was determined to hold on to the good energy they carried

He walked to the end of the short corridor towards Alex’s room, humming some Spanish song to himself. The door was partly ajar, so he was about to storm inside, but Alex’s voice stopped him - he was on the phone with someone:

‘Mate, I swear to God if I see Max ogling you like that from across the paddock again, I’m gonna throw up. He looked like he was seconds from throwing himself at you right there with all the cameras around.’

That caught Carlos’s attention. He didn’t mean to be nosy and eavesdrop on his teammate’s private conversation, but after he’d accidentally heard that weird fragment, he just couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Instead he quietly backed away from the doorway and into the shadows of the corridor to stay hidden. Alex was talking to someone about Max devouring them with his eyes - now, that was this kind of information you couldn’t stay indifferent to. 

‘Well, tell him to try harder, because that was everything but subtle.’ Alex’s voice reached the Spaniard again, along with his loud laugh. ‘I’m not pestering you, George, I’m just stating a fact! And protecting you from the insatiable hunger of the Dutch lion…’

The moment he heard the name ‘George’, Carlos’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. George was supposed to be the one protected from Max’s hunger? What the hell?! The Spaniard’s thoughts ran a million miles an hour, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. Maybe it was some other Max Alex was talking about. But no, he’d specifically used the phrase ‘the Dutch lion’, there was only one Max he could have meant. Then it must have been different George his teammate was on the phone with, not George Russell as Carlos had first thought - this explanation calmed him down a little. 

‘Talking about that: you know that we ended up in the same hotel this week? In adjacent rooms? And the walls are stupidly thin?’ To Carlos’s dismay, Alex continued the talk. ‘I heard you last night. Or Max. I don’t know and I don’t wanna know, just… I can’t believe I’m saying this… I’m really happy for you, mate, you know I am, but I don’t need to hear your joy behind my wall.’

That painted too vivid images in Carlos’s head, images that he really didn’t want to see. The Spaniard squeezed his eyes shut as if that could have willed the mental pictures away and wondered for which of his sins he was being punished. 

‘Okay, alright, mate, that’s enough, you’re right… To be completely honest, it’s even just a little bit sweet to see you two like that - the British prince and the Dutch lion. It sounds like some twisted retelling of ‘Beauty and the Beast’.’ Alex burst into laughter yet again. 

‘The British prince’ - that immediately brought down Carlos’s thesis about a ‘different George’. Alex was talking with none other than George Russell himself and that information left the Spaniard hopeless - he couldn’t find any other rational explanation for the picture Alex’d created with his words. Maybe he was growing old faster than he’d expected and his hearing was getting bad already… Then he suddenly remembered his last talk with Lando and his crazy story about the flight he’d shared with Max and George - maybe his friend wasn’t as delirious as he’d originally thought.

‘Alright, I should better get going, I have the debrief in a couple of minutes. Yeah, see you around.’

The words reached Carlos’s ears, but his legs seemed to be frozen in place from the shock. He knew he should walk away as quickly as possible, yet his brain couldn’t process the command. That’s how he found himself face-to-face with Alex who had just opened the door wider and stumbled into his teammate: 

‘Woah, Carlos, you scared me! What are you doing here?’

‘I just.. Well, it’s not like I was…, but…’ Carlos couldn’t complete a coherent sentence, which earned him a chuckle from Alex. 

‘Mate, are you okay? You look as if you’d just seen a bloody ghost.’

Carlos would have much preferred for it to be the case, but he decided to keep this thought to himself. Instead, he finally pulled himself together:

‘No, no, I’m alright. I just wanted to ask you to come for a quick chat with me and my engineer, we were wondering about turn 7.’

‘Oh, okay, no problem, let’s go.’ Alex shot him an innocent smile and was already walking towards the stairs. 

The Spaniard knew that he should just let it go and never mention to anyone, especially not to Alex, that he’d heard that phone talk. Yet somehow, his curiosity got the best of him. He muttered a curse in Spanish to motivate himself and shouted after Alex:

‘Alex, wait, just one question.’ The Thaiman turned around expectantly. ‘Were you… Were you on the phone with someone? Like a minute ago?’

‘Yeah…’ Alex furrowed his brows in confusion. ‘Why are you asking?’

‘Just tell me who you were talking with and…’ The Spaniard took a deep breath. ‘Please, tell me it wasn’t George Russell.’ Carlos’s desperation made Alex even more dumbfounded. 

‘Well… I’m sorry to disappoint you, but yeah, I was talking to George.’ Alex answered, too innocent to think that Carlos was just coming to terms with his best friend’s biggest secret. 

‘Oh, dios mio…’ Carlos ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

‘What? What’s wrong, Carlos?’

‘Nothing, Alex, nothing… I just have to consult someone about one thing, don’t worry. See you at the debrief.’

The Spaniard pulled out his phone and quickly moved past Alex, a second later he was impatiently trotting down the stairs. 

‘But what about your engineer?!’ Alex shouted, but Carlos was too engrossed in the message he was just typing to even hear him. 

Cabron, we need to talk
I think you weren’t hallucinating
On that flight with George and Max

Landito 🐼

What?!
What happened?

I heard Alex on the phone with George
He said some…
Interesting things

Landito 🐼

omg
Wait, mate, you were eavesdropping? 
Not very nice of you

Oh, shut up, you muppet
It doesn’t matter now
You’ll understand when I tell you
what they were rambling about
I’m scarred for life…
TOO MANY DETAILS 

Landito 🐼

Okay, okay
Calm down
I’m on my way…
But I’m scared

You should be…

Chapter Text

Kimi was having the awesomest day and he was convinced there was nothing in this world that could possibly change that. Both of Friday’s practice sessions went great - he felt really good in the car and had that positive premonition that he would do more than fine in the next day’s qualifying. Baku was a beautiful, sunny place, so the wonderful weather just added to his great mood.

Still, all the media duties and team debriefs left him a bit drained and he couldn’t wait to take some rest in the peace and quiet of his apartment. Before that, he had to hop over to George though - he had one more question about the track he’d forgotten to ask earlier and beside this, he just wanted to share his excitement with his older teammate for a minute longer. Kimi knew that George would understand - he was an amazing senior driver to him, giving the rookie all the useful advice and always there to comfort him after a bad result or share his happiness when something went right.                                       

Somebody from the team had told him that George’d headed back to his driver’s room, so he was happily strolling along in the direction of the Mercedes motorhome. Stopping a few times to take a photo with some fans or give a quick autograph lifted his spirit even higher. By the time he reached the main suite of the motorhome, he was practically jogging - the joy making him quite energised despite the tiredness. He hopped over the stairs, high-faving one of the engineers along the way, and entered the corridor where drivers’ rooms were situated. 

The young Italian finally slowed down, his breath calming. Just as he was by George’s door, about to lift his arm up and knock, something stopped him. Something very particular - a muffled sound coming from the other side of the door, something between a groan and a whine. To Kimi’s ears, it sounded a lot like someone in pain. His heartbeat immediately went up, what if something had happened to George?!

‘Oh, Max… Max!’ Kimi heard George’s strained voice followed by the sound of hollow, ragged breathing. 

The boy got even more concerned as thoughts rushed through his head:

‘Max is there?! God, I know they fight dirty sometimes, but it never got physical between them…’

Doubts grew louder in his mind, because what if some things were kept secret from him, because he was just a rookie? What if Max’s hatred for George ran deeper than he thought and the teams allowed for things like that to happen?

‘George…’ This time it was the Dutchman’s low tone coming through the door. ‘You better keep that pretty mouth of yours shut or somebody will hear you.’

The threat was followed by the sound of something heavy tumbling to the floor. That was enough for Kimi to finally shake himself from the frozen state the situation had put him in and take action. He wouldn’t stand still and listen while his teammate was being hurt by another driver.

Before any hesitation could creep into his mind, the Italian gripped the door handle angrily and stormed into the room:

‘Leave him alone, you f…’ His scream faltered and the words stopped on the tip of his tongue as his eyes settled on the sight in front of him.

In the first moment, he couldn’t understand, couldn’t connect the dots. He simply felt like his mind was playing tricks on him, because… Because he saw George seated on the small table in the corner of the room with his legs wrapped around the waist of the man who was standing in front of him. That said man was Max Verstappen himself with messy hair, swollen lips and his hands way too close to taking off George’s trousers, one of them already under the waistband of the Brit’s boxers. George looked just as disheveled with his shirt all crumpled and drops of sweat on his temples - the image so strikingly different to the hyper-professional persona Kimi was used to seeing. 

All three men froze in place and stared at each other for a couple of very long seconds. Only the quickened breaths of the unfortunate lovers filled the otherwise deafening silence. Finally, it was Kimi who spoke first, trying to keep his eyes fixed on anything but his teammate’s half-naked abdomen and a quite telling bulge below it. Well, ‘spoke’ is a huge word, more like ‘stuttered’, his face hot as fire:

‘Oh, scusi… I… S-sorry, I didn’t… didn’t mean to… I’ll… I’ll just leave.’ The embarrassment of the moment was too much for poor Kimi to bear as he stumbled over his own feet while trying to flee the crime scene. 

‘No, Kimi, wait…’ George tried to say something, clearly not wanting his younger friend to feel bad for what had happened. He already knew he’d traumatised him enough. ‘I… Give me a few minutes and I’ll walk out to talk with you, okay?’

‘T-there is no need, George… It’s fine, I… I haven’t seen anything, okay?’ Kimi answered, instinctively feeling like it was the right thing to say, even though he didn’t fully understand what he ‘hadn’t seen’ himself. ‘Well… Ciao.’ 

After mumbling out the awkward goodbye, the Italian stumbled out of the room, shut the door closed behind him and kept on walking until he exited the motorhome through one of the back doors and took a deep breath, fresh air calming him down a bit. 

His cheeks were still hot from the embarrassment that wouldn’t subside - every time he closed his eyes he saw the picture yet again, as if engraved behind his eyelids: George hungrily wrapped around Max, Max’s hand almost in his boxers… No, he couldn’t suffer through it alone, he needed someone to share the trauma with. And who’s better to trauma-dump than your long-time best friend? Kimi fumbled with his phone, having to type in and delete the message a few times before he got it right:

Ollie, just a hypothetical question
What would you do if you found Esteban
with his long-time rival, let’s say Pierre,
in a very… ambiguous situation?

OllieBear 🐻

You mean ambiguous as in:
a) close to throwing fists
b) close to having sex ?
Cause those are two very different things

The second option…
Unfortunately

OllieBear 🐻

First of all: I would freak out
and be traumatised for life.
Second of all…
WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING?

Oh, well…
See, that’s a funny thing
My question might not be so hypothetical…

OllieBear 🐻

OMG, KIMI
WHAT DID YOU SEE?!
Don’t tell me…
George?!
The perfect, always well-behaved
Great Britain’s golden boy?!

Yeah, apparently not so
well-behaved anymore…
What am I supposed to do?!

OllieBear 🐻

Wait, you said ‘long-time rival’,
who did you see him with?

Would you believe me if I said it was…
Max… Max Verstappen, I mean?

OllieBear 🐻

Haha, very funny
Kimi, it’s not the time for jokes

…
🫣

OllieBear 🐻

No…
Kimi, are you trying to tell me…
WTF?!

I KNOW!
I don’t know what’s happening,
maybe it’s some sick prank

OllieBear 🐻

Oh, my… 

Kimi’s head shot up from his phone in reaction to the sound of someone’s foodsteps approaching the back of the motorhome. Panic spiked inside him as he quickly put his phone deep in his pocket. He barely managed to do it when the exact same door he’d used to sneak out opened wide and he stood face-to-face with George. 

The Brit still looked messy, but it was obvious he’d tried very hard to get himself to a decent state - his shirt was buttoned up, the brown locks of his hair smoothed out, so they weren’t sticking out in every direction as five minutes earlier. Kimi stared at him with wide eyes and had to use all his will not to run away and never look back.

‘Oh, Kimi, how good I’ve caught you…’ George sighed, short of breath. Kimi didn’t want to know whether it was from running across the motorhome or from whatever he’d been doing with Max. ‘I… God, this is so embarrassing… I’m really sorry you had to see… us.’

‘I… I haven’t seen anything, I swear…’ Kimi kept holding on to the only tactic that he was comfortable with - pretending nothing had happened. 

‘No, Kimi, you saw what you saw and we can’t pretend that you didn’t…’ The Brit ran a hand through his hair nervously. ‘I… I didn’t want you to find out like that… I swear that soon I’ll tell you what’s going on, but for now I can’t do that yet, it’s… complicated.’

Kimi couldn’t help, but thought that there was nothing complicated about what he’d seen - Max’s hand in his teammate’s trousers was quite a clear message. He forced himself to push that thought away and just said:

‘Okay… I… I’m not sure I understand, but that’s okay. It’s your private life in the end, it’s not like you have to tell me about everything you do, and I’m just a kid and…’

‘Hey, Kimi, slow down.’ George stopped him from spiraling any further. ‘You’re not just a kid, you’re my teammate and I respect and value you deeply. That’s why I don’t want to keep such secrets from you and put you in situations like the one today, just… I still need just a little bit of time, okay?’

‘Oh, that’s… that’s very nice of you to say…’ Kimi was surprised at the warmth that spread in his chest at the kind words from the Brit. In the end he was someone he looked up to, someone he admired as a driver with much more experience and it felt great to be valued by him. ‘It’s fine, take your time.’

‘There’s just one thing I have to ask you for. Please, for now, don’t tell anybody about what you’ve seen, okay? Please.’ 

George looked at him with pleading eyes while Kimi felt his phone burning his skin through the material of his sweatpants… The young Italian swallowed hard and tried to put on his best poker face. He couldn’t let George see any hesitation from his side:

‘Oh, yeah, of course. Don’t worry.’ 

‘Thank you, Kimi, you’re the best.’ George smiled gently. 

‘I’ll go now, okay? I’m tired after today…’

‘Oh, yes, sure. See you tomorrow, buddy.’

Kimi answered with a quick goodbye and walked away, restraining himself from sprinting down the alley between the motorhomes, because that would look exactly as suspicious as he didn’t want it to look. The moment he was absolutely sure George couldn’t see him, he grabbed his phone:

DON’T TELL ANYONE
YOU KNOW NOTHING

OllieBear 🐻

Oh…
You’re just a bit late…

OLLIE!
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

OllieBear 🐻

Please, don’t hate me, I…
I couldn’t stop myself and…
I wrote to the rookie groupchat

YOU…
YOU MUPPET!
George has just asked me not
to tell anyone!
Delete that message right now!

OllieBear 🐻
Shit
Okay, deleted

God…
Did anyone see it earlier?

OllieBear 🐻

I’m not sure
But maybe Isack and Liam…
Oh, shit, yeah, they’re asking about it…

I see it now, too
Jeez… We have to threaten them
They CAN’T tell anyone

OllieBear 🐻

Breathe, Kimi, breathe
We can do it
Nobody will know

I hope so…

Chapter Text

It was a lovely Friday evening as Oscar strolled down the streets of the center of Baku. The sun was just beginning to set down, painting everything in shades of orange and the light wind created a perfect balance with the high temperature characteristic for this corner of the world. A thought passed through the Aussie’s head that it was exactly this type of an afternoon that couples would choose for a romantic date, just at the verge of summer turning into autumn…

Of course, he wasn’t going on a date. It was just a meeting in one of the many beautiful parks of Baku that Lando had proposed - their practice sessions that day had turned out to be quite tricky and they needed to discuss some issues just on their own, without the constant buzz of the engineers adding observations that sometimes only confused them. The weather was great, so it would be a shame to sit locked in the motorhome or the hotel - Oscar was glad Lando had come up with the idea of going out instead. 

The Aussie wasn’t in much of a hurry as he approached the entrance to the park. There was still some time left to the hour they’d agreed on and Oscar had already got used to Lando always being at least five minutes late, even to meetings he initiated. It’s not like Oscar was particularly mad about it, he actually thought that it was one of many adorable traits that made Lando the person he was. 

Lost in his thoughts (more about his teammate than the car performance, but he would never admit that) he wasn’t really looking around as he walked down the main alley, his gaze fixated onwards. But then he heard a familiar laugh that pulled him out of his head. He couldn’t quite decide who it belonged to, but he was sure he’d definitely heard it around the paddock many times. 

He looked to his left, towards a rather obscured pathway, from where the sound had come from and squinted, not sure what he was seeing. Instinctively, he took a couple steps in that direction and as he passed a large oak tree, he froze in place at the sight.

Now he knew that the laugh he’d heard belonged to Max, which explained why it’d felt so familiar. However, it didn’t explain anything else and, for Oscar, there was a lot of explaining needed. On a wooden bench by the side of the alley, Max was comfortably seated with none other than George Russell by his side. They were busy eating ice-cream and laughing at something like two best friends reunited after years of separation. Although if somebody asked Oscar, he’d say they actually looked much closer than friends considering Max’s hand resting freely on the Brit’s thigh and the way they looked at each other. 

The Aussie carefully moved forward, trying to be as quiet as possible, and hid behind another one of the oak trees - this one situated close enough to hear what the unusual pair was talking about. Some low branches kept him covered, but he could still see his gridmates through the leaves. Oscar wasn’t the one to be drawn to drama, but this kind of a revelation would capture anyone’s attention - nobody on the grid could imagine a situation where Max eating ice-cream with George would be considered normal. 

‘Poor Kimi, I can’t believe he had to witness that… He’s just a kid!’ George’s voice reached Oscar’s ears as the Brit tried to stop laughing to no avail. 

‘Come on, he’s 18 already, he has to get used to how the adult world works.’ The Dutchman answered. Oscar didn’t even have to see it to know that a smirk spread across his face. 

‘But that’s not how the adult world is supposed to work! We’re giving him a bad example.’ 

‘Oh, I’m pretty sure that he’d already checked off a post-race make-out session with Ollie, have you seen how they look at each other?’ Max’s comment sent the pair into another round of laughter. 

As if this conversation wasn’t confusing enough, what Oscar saw a moment later caused his brain to short-circuit. He was sure the image would haunt him for many years to come. 

‘Come here, schat, you have some very expensive pistachio ice-cream on your chin…’ 

Max cupped George’s face with his right hand and, ever so delicately and slowly, used his thumb to brush off a bit of ice-cream from under the Brit’s lower lip. Suddenly something glistened in George’s ones at the contact. Just as the Dutchman pulled away, the other man reacted immediately, grabbing his wrist firmly and holding his hand in place. After a second filled with this kind of tension that could be felt from miles away, he pulled Max’s hand towards his lips and, never breaking the eye-contact, put his ice-cream-covered thumb inside his mouth and sucked on it. Hard. Teasingly. Obnoxiously. A sharp inhale of breath could be heard from Max’s side.

Oscar’s eyes widened in something between disbelief and a weird sense of enlightenment. As much as he hated seeing what he was seeing, because ‘WHAT THE HELL, WHY MAX AND GEORGE OF ALL PEOPLE?!’, he couldn’t help, but let his mind wander into the areas he always kept locked away and imagined himself being on the receiving end of George’s gesture. With the slight, but crucial difference of George being replaced by Lando… His stomach did something weird at the image and the Aussie quickly shook himself awake from the fantasy - which he would later put away into the deepest corner of his mind as he’d done with many others…

Much to Oscar’s relief, George finally let go of Max’s thumb, licked his lips and smiled smugly - this kind of smile that Oscar had seen from him only when the Brit had found a loophole in the FIA regulations. Max sighed deeply, the sound too close to moaning for Oscar’s liking, and visibly shuddered, overcome by what the Aussie had already understood to be desire - he might have been oblivious to some social cues, but this one he’d understood quite clearly. 

‘Mijn God… George, we’re in public!’ Max hissed in the Brit’s direction, his strained voice an indication he still hadn’t regained full control of himself. 

George didn’t say anything, just chuckled, the glint of mischief still present in his eyes. 

‘Come here, you little tease.’ The Dutchman pulled George close by the nape of his neck and wiped the naughty smile off his face with an affectionately aggressive kiss. 

At that moment Oscar decided he’d seen much more than enough and started walking away from the scene. His mind was filled with a whirlwind of thoughts, starting from the simple realization that he had to tell Lando to move their meeting to a different park, ending with the fact how deeply shocked he was - what was he supposed to do with the information he’d just acquired? He wanted to be discreet, but how do you keep something like that to yourself? Impossible. 

Between all of that, the fantasy from earlier, the one starring Lando in the main role just wouldn’t go away. Oscar tried all the things that usually helped him in such moments of dread, which were caused by Lando way too often he’d like to admit - deep breathing, counting his steps, focusing on anything other than the funny feeling deep in his stomach and how light his head felt whenever he involuntarily wondered how Lando’s lips would feel wrapped around…

He was in way too deep, but still not brave enough to actually acknowledge the feelings, let alone do something about them. 

‘Focus, Oscar, you’ve just been traumatised by the sight of your gridmates having a… moment, your mind is not working right. Yeah, it’s all their fault, that’s it.’

Having persuaded himself into believing his state was to be entirely blamed on Max and George’s lack of basic decency in public places, he finally got rid of the mental image and typed in a quick message to the man he ‘definitely hadn’t just had the most unholy thoughts about’:

There’s a small problem
We have to choose a different meeting spot
This one is…
Dangerous

Lan 🧡

What the hell do you mean?
It’s a lovely park
Sorry I’m late btw, on my way

Lan, you have to trust me
on this one, really
I’ll explain later

Lan 🧡

But…
I was so excited to get ice-cream there
I’ve heard there is a stand with
the best ice-cream around
😢

Oscar tried his best not to break at the sad emoji and Lando’s baby pout that he was sure his teammate had plastered on his face at the moment. He promised himself to go to lengths to find an ice-cream spot that would satisfy him, because how could he ever disappoint Lan?

I promise we’ll find an
even better spot
With your favourite flavour available

Lan 🧡

Bubblegum???
Promise?

Yes, baby, I promise

That ‘baby’ was a slip Oscar hadn’t been able to control and he watched in dread at the sent message, already seen by Lando. Cold sweat pooled on the back of his neck. But it seemed like Lando didn’t notice or simply didn’t care at all, or… Or liked it… ‘No, Oscar, stop it.’ The Aussie cursed under his breath.

Lan 🧡
Okay, then
I wonder what scared you so much
My ever-brave Oscar
scared of a park, hehe

This is not a phone conversation
And you probably won’t believe

Lan 🧡

Mate, I’ve seen such things recently
that nothing will surprise me
Max and George together on his plane, 
can you imagine?

WHAT?!
Why haven’t you said anything?!
That explains a lot…

Lan 🧡
No way
It’s them you saw at the park?!

I didn’t just see THEM
I saw them engaging in some…
dubiously appropriate activities

Lan 🧡
Omg, you have to tell me everything
I’m almost at the gate
So meet me there and we’ll go
somewhere else
There is A LOT to cover

Oscar headed towards the gate with a deep sigh, wondering how the hell was he going to explain what he’d seen without getting turned on with Lando by his side to make his fantasies even more vivid…

Chapter Text

They’d agreed to meet in the hospitality suite of the Mercedes motorhome. It was definitely better than choosing the Ferrari site and risking Lewis catching anything from their talk, but it still made Charles uncomfortable. He felt as if he was on his way to visit the family of one of his teammate’s exes. 

It felt equally weird asking George for help, but he knew Lewis much better than Charles did and the Monaguesque truly needed some advice. Lately it looked like the transfer from Mercedes to Ferrari took an even greater toll on Lewis than anybody had expected. Yeah, of course, it was normal that he needed time to get accustomed to the car and to the different atmosphere in the team, but recently it was more than that - if Charles were to state it plainly, he’d say that he looked simply miserable. In other words - Ferrari depression was real. 

Charles had tried to talk with Lewis, to offer him any sort of advice, but most of the time he’d met with a wall. He couldn’t understand it, especially after this wonderful period of time when being teammates with Carlos had meant working through all the hardships together, sharing the highs and the lows, always being there for each other. Charles was painfully aware that having a similar kind of bond with Lewis was impossible, something like that happened only with the right person at the right time. But he still wanted to help him somehow, his empathy didn’t allow him to just stay on the sidelines and watch him struggle alone. Charles still had Carlos, even if they were in different teams, but Lewis… It seemed like he was just alone. 

That’s how he found himself in the situation he was now - stepping into the Mercedes motorhome and pointlessly trying to blend in, his red clothing an immediate give-away. Fortunately, George was already there, waiting for him in the corner of the suite by one of the front glass walls. 

‘Hey, mate!’ The Brit looked up from his phone. ‘Sorry, I’ll just type in one message and I’m free to talk.’

‘It’s okay, thanks for agreeing to the meeting.’ Charles slid into the chair across the table from George, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, clearly a bit nervous. 

‘No problem…’ George said absent-mindedly and chuckled at something on his screen before putting his phone away and turning his attention fully to his gridmate. ‘Feeling kind of out of place here, huh?’

‘Yeah, the colour is definitely not right.’ Charles laughed gently, some of the tension coming off his shoulders when he got reminded he was in the company of a good friend. ‘No wonder Lewis is having such a hard time adapting…’

‘Yeah, you wanted to ask something about him, right?’ The Brit’s expression became more serious. 

‘Yeah, just… I hope I can count on you to keep this conversation just between us, okay? I wouldn’t want Lewis finding out I’m talking about him behind his back…’ The Monaguesque scratched his neck anxiously. 

‘Of course, don’t worry, Charles. You have no idea how many much bigger secrets I have to keep lately…’ George sighed heavily.

That comment sounded weird to Charles’s ears, but he decided to let it go for now:

‘So, I just thought… You know Lewis much better than me, so maybe you can help me. He’s been so… so sad and defeated lately. I understand the change is hard and the car is not what he’d expected it to be, but every time I try to talk to him, he just shuts me off and… I don’t wanna be a bad teammate, I’d like to help him somehow. It was so much different with Carlos…’ Charles’s eyes became glassy, clearly with longing. 

‘First of all: you have to remember he is much different than Carlos.’ George looked at him with a sad smile, as if understanding too well what his friend’s longing meant. ‘I know you miss him, Charles, but you can’t compare Lewis to him. You have to leave Carlos outside of this and rather deal with what you feel…’ The Brit stopped himself, not wanting to push too much, he knew Charles had to come to terms with his feelings on his own.

‘I know, George, I’m trying my best, but… But Lewis just doesn’t let me!’ The French accent slipped through making George smile at the way Charles pronounced his ex teammate’s name. 

‘See, here’s the second thing with Lewis, he… He is kind of closed-off most of the time and you have to get used to it. What I’ve learned in my years with him is that he prefers to figure out most of his problems on his own. When he wants advice, he’ll come to you and ask, but first he needs time.’

‘Oh…’ It seemed like Charles understood right away, surprised the solution was that simple. ‘So he just needs space? It’s not me being the problem?’

‘No, Charles.’ The Brit couldn’t help, but chuckled at the worry written all over Charles’s face, no wonder all the fangirls found him so adorable. ‘I promise you, it’s not you. Just be around for him, he doesn’t need too many words, he knows he can count on you. He just prefers to face things alone.’

‘That explains a lot…’ 

Before the Monaguesque could continue, their conversation was stopped by the sound of footsteps quickly approaching their table. George’s eyes lit up in a way Charles had never seen before, so he was quite surprised when the man stopped by and turned out to be Max. 

‘Hey, guys. Sorry for the interruption, but I need to steal George for a quick moment.’ The Dutchman said as if strolling into the Mercedes motorhome and casually kidnapping George was normal. 

Charles didn’t say anything, just watched the way George’s Adam’s apple jumped up and down as he swallowed hard and looked at Max in a way the Monaguesque couldn’t understand, as if wanting to send some cryptic message through his eyes. 

‘What do you exactly need me for?’ The Brit hissed through his teeth - that looked way more normal to Charles, but there was still some undertone he was missing out on.

‘I just need to talk. In private. It’ll be quick, I promise.’ The Dutchman smiled mischeviously and Charles suddenly felt like a third wheel and the only thing he wanted was to get away from whatever the hell was going on between them.

‘It’s okay, I can leave you two and…’ 

‘No, Charles, it’s okay, just give me a minute, I’ll be back soon.’ George stopped him from running away and before Charles could counter him, he was walking out of the motorhome, following Max’s footsteps closely. 

Charles kept looking at them through the window until they disappeared in an alley, heading further into the backstage of the paddock. His brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to find a logical explanation for what he’d just been a witness to. Max asking George to talk in private in the middle of the paddock… What the hell could he have to say to him? Every time they argued, they did it in front of the cameras, none of them having a problem with voicing their adversity for each other publicly, so what was different now? And those glistening eyes George had had when Max’d stepped inside… And the Dutchman’s weird little smile… 

Something was definitely going on, but Charles simply couldn’t place his finger on what it could be. His mind kept coming up with the weirdest scenarios, so he didn’t even notice when George came back until the Brit sat in front of him with a silent cough and broke him away from the trans. 

The Monaguesque opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes finally focused on the man opposite and words failed him. To put it very simply… George looked as if he’d just experienced a heavy make-out session that barely hadn’t escalated into something more. The Brit’s red cheeks, swollen lips and messy hair were a clear enough sign, but the way he kept avoiding looking Charles in the eyes was even more telling.

Charles took a couple seconds until his brain switched back on and eventually settled on asking:

‘Are you okay?’

George coughed nervously again and tried to make his hair look less disheveled (with no bigger success):

‘Y-yeah… What do you mean? Of course I’m okay.’ He was still out of breath, so it didn’t sound convincing at all.

‘I mean that you look as if you’ve been devoured by…’

Charles’s voice faltered and his expression grew even more shocked, if it was still possible - eyes wide like 5-pound coins. If any of the earlier signals weren’t obvious enough, what his eyes landed on now couldn’t be more telling. Peeking from under the collar of George’s shirt, just above his collarbone, was a big red mark, already growing purple, but still very fresh. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else than what it was - a hickey. A very aggressive hickey left by someone who must have been very hungry. 

‘George.’ Charles began, his tone suddenly solemn, as if he was asking him about trusting him with his life, every word accentuated. ‘What. Is. This?’ 

The Brit turned an even deeper shade of red, because he knew too well what his friend was talking about. Still, he decided to play dumb:

‘What is what?’

‘That mark. Just under your neck.’ 

‘Oh…’ George looked down on it as if surprised that it was there. ‘Oh, that… That’s nothing, just… Something bit me at night in the hotel. Yeah.’ He smiled, relieved that he’d come up with an explanation. ‘You know, some weird insects are always around in this part of the world…’

‘Mate.’ Charles wasn’t convinced. At all. And he was determined to get the truth out of the Brit. ‘Stop messing with me. I’m not stupid, I can see it’s a hickey. A fresh one.’ He shot him a meaningful stare after the last two words. 

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Charles, Toto wants me in his office immediately.’ George said after pretending to look up a message on his phone. ‘We’ll finish this talk some other day, yeah?’

‘George, come on, you have to tell me!’ Charles shouted after him, but George had already disappeared in the corridor at the back of the motorhome, using his ridiculously long legs to his advantage. 

The Monaguesque cursed under his breath and looked at the wall with a dead stare as the screws in his head kept spinning. The next thing he did was what Charles Leclerc always did when the situation was slipping out of his grasp - he texted Carlos Sainz. It wasn’t like Carlos was the smarter one, usually they both struggled to connect the dots, but it felt better being confused together than being confused on your own. 

Carloooos, I need help
Something weird is happening

MyChiliBoy 🌶️

What’s going on, Charlie?
Is Lewis ignoring you again?
Cause if he is, I can gladly
have a ‘talk’ with him, you know that

No, it’s not about that
And calm down, you’re not my mother
I can deal with him on my own

MyChiliBoy 🌶️

You can, but it doesn’t mean you have to
You deserve the best, cariño 

Awww, Carlooooos

Charles tried his best not to focus on the warmth in his stomach at Carlos’s usage of ‘cariño’, but it was no use. He was ready to write a long paragraph about how sweet and supportive Carlos was and how he missed him in the garage and… Only at the last moment he refrained himself and remembered this conversation was supposed to be about something entirely different. Beside this, writing something that looked a lot like a love letter in the form of a chat message to your ex-teammate wasn’t exactly a normal thing. At least, that’s what Charles told himself. 

Anyway, that’s not the thing
Have you noticed Max and George
acting kind of… weird recently?

MyChiliBoy 🌶️

You mean weird as in
‘looking at each other as if they
just made out in some closet
or are about to do it and can
barely stop themselves’?

That’s…
Very specific
And surprisingly accurate
I just saw Max dragging George off
with the pretext of ‘talking in private’
And George came back with…
With a FRESH HICKEY

MyChiliBoy 🌶️

Damn
They’re not even hiding anymore
That requires an emergency meet-up
I’ll call Lando
Oscar knows something, too
Operation ‘The British Prince and
The Dutch Lion’ is underway

Operation WHAT?!

MyChiliBoy 🌶️

You know, like in this fairytale,
‘The Beauty and The Beast’?
Nevermind,
I’ll explain later

You better
I'm so confused

Chapter Text

The morning before the 2025 Baku GP race

‘Do you think they’re gonna be looking at us like that again?’ George asked, laying on Max’s chest, relishing the quietness of the morning before the buzz of the paddock would swallow them again. His sleepy voice was just as gentle as his fingers drawing abstract patterns on the Dutchman’s stomach. 

‘Hmm… Like they already know everything, but are too scared and confused to actually ask?’ Max answered with a question, taking a short break from peppering his lover’s face with kisses. 

‘Yeah, something like that…’ George chuckled, but his smile was quickly replaced by a worried expression. Max barely stopped himself from smoothening the crease that settled in-between the Brit’s brows. ‘I mean, we haven’t been exactly subtle… Yesterday Charles noticed the hickey, I barely escaped his interrogation. We can’t do such things, Max.’

‘But I needed to taste you.’ The Dutchman’s voice changed into a low grumble making George shiver in anticipation of what it usually foreshadowed. ‘It was half a day without you and then I saw you and your immaculate, pale neck… It was calling to get marked. If I hadn’t done that, I would have crashed during the quali thinking about it.’

‘Maaaax…’ The Brit whined as his face grew red. ‘You’re so insatiable and greedy and…’

‘And you love it.’ Max smiled smugly.

‘Of course I love it.’ George admitted with a sigh of defeat before cupping Max’s face and pulling him closer. ‘Cause it makes you so fucking hot it’s ridiculous. The Dutch Lion - never needing anyone, never begging, and yet so desperately needy for me.’

‘I can’t help how you make me feel… You’re the only man in the world I would fall down to my knees for.’ The Dutchman whispered against George’s mouth, the intimacy of the moment quickening his heartbeat.

‘You can’t just say such things…’ The Brit closed his eyes with a trembling sigh. 

‘Why?’ Max knew the answer too well, but hearing it made everything even sweeter. 

‘Because…’ George opened his eyes, his pupils wide with love and desire. ‘Because then I’m the one who becomes outrageously needy.’

‘That’s okay.’ The Dutchman confirmed his words by finally putting their lips together. The kiss was feather-like, no tongue, just gentle lips, but because of that it was so electrifying - George’s skin tingled with the need for more. ‘You can plead for me, schat, and I’ll give you anything you want.’

The Brit took in a deep breath before surrendering - it felt so good, so freeing: to ask without the fear of judgment, to ask for what he needed, to ask and simply receive. 

‘Touch me.’ The words came out of him with a soft exhale. ‘Just that - touch me like I’m a sculpture in a museum and you know you can’t, but it’s stronger than you. I want to be drenched in your touch.’

Max smiled, already high with the indescribable feeling those words gave him. Because wasn’t their story just like that? Orbiting around each other, knowing it was forbidden and yet falling into love without control because it was the only thing that made sense? Because being touched by the other felt like coming home and being worshipped at the same time…

‘Can you ask for it nicely, my pretty boy?’ Max teased with his fingers hanging just above the line of George’s neck.
The Brit could almost feel the millimetres separating them, the warmth from Max radiating towards his skin. He knew Max could give him anything without the asking, but they both loved exploring that razor-sharp string of need that connected them. It made them feel alive in a way nothing else ever had. Even racing. Racing was pure adrenaline and focus, dancing on the edge knowing that falling into the pit of failure was always a second away. This? This was where they could let go, where letting yourself fall over the edge meant the sweetest release.

‘Please, Max.’ George’s quickened breath matched the hypnotising rhythm in which his chest was moving up and down. 

‘Please what? Use your words, baby.’ Max’s command reverberated through George’s entire body.

‘Please, touch me.’ The Brit specified, barely holding back a whimper, cause the need was becoming unbearable. ‘Touch me, my Maxie.’

Max couldn’t hold on any longer, the pull was too strong. Just as he leaned down to crush their lips together, his fingers finally touched George’s neck, gripping it gently. The Brit moaned into the kiss, Max’s touch feeling as good as ever. When they parted, Max pushed him to lay down on his back and positioned himself comfortably across his hips. He leaned down to be on George’s eye-level and whispered:

‘Tilt your head back for me, darling.’ 

George obliged immediately and exposed his throat. To be vulnerable without fear, George had never even hoped it would be possible for him. And yet here he was, stripped down from any defences for the man he loved with his whole heart. 

Firstly, Max left a hot, wet kiss right on George’s adam’s apple and the Brit hummed in content. Then the Dutchman put his thumb to the tip of his lover’s chin and ever so slowly, as gently as possible, began to draw a line down his throat. When he reached the little dent right at the top of his chest, in between the ends of his pointy collarbones, he pushed a bit harder, earning a strained groan from his man. 

He resumed the journey with both of his hands, tracing George’s collarbones from the inside right to the curves of his shoulders. He proceeded with his arms, then forearms, then hands, moving symmetrically on both sides of the Brit’s body with the precision of a craftsman. George remained silent, breathing softly with his eyes closed, savouring every second, trying to engrave in his mind the exact feeling Max’s touch brought out of him.

Only when Max moved back to his chest and let his thumbs linger at the delicate tissue of George’s nipples, drawing slow, sensual circles around them, the Brit’s arched his back uncontrollably and uttered:

‘Max…’ The syllable of the Dutchman's name prolonged into the sweetest moan. 

Max bathed in the sound before slipping his hands under George’s back and supporting him up until he was sitting, Max still straddling him.

‘George…’ Max muttered quietly. ‘I don’t care what people will say. I’ll be proud to be yours. Openly. To everyone.’

George opened his eyes and found Max’s fierce, unwavering stare. His heart skipped a beat at what the offer meant.

‘Are you sure, sweetheart? We don’t have to rush it.’ 

‘I don’t wanna hide anymore. I want to kiss you in front of everyone and show them you’re mine. I want them to know you chose me. That I’m the one who can touch this forbidden marble of your body… If you’re sure, then I’m sure, too.’

George’s breath hitched at the confession and tears prickled in the corner of his eyes as the love he felt for Max spilled over the edge.

‘I’m sure. Let’s show them. Let’s show them we belong to each other.’ The Brit’s wide smile was the most beautiful sight for Max. The way his eyes squinted, the way his dimples appeared, the way his nose gently scrunched… Max loved all of it.

‘All set, then.’ The Dutchman smiled back before leaning towards George’s ear, his hips grinding into him with a higher intensity and whispering: ‘Now, lay back down. I haven’t finished the museum tour.’

George felt goosebumps spreading down his neck from where Max’s hot breath waved over him and heat pooled low in his stomach from the pressure of the Dutchman’s hips. 

‘Max?’ He asked breathlessly, knowing that once Max would resume touching him like he’d started earlier, he’d lose the ability of forming coherent sentences.

‘Yeah?’ The Dutchman answered absent-mindedly, already too busy leaving kisses down the Brit’s jawline. 

‘No matter what happens… I love you. I always will.’

Max looked him straight in the eye and answered with the same reverence:

‘I know, mijn liefje. I love you, too. No matter what…’

***

It was so easy to see when you knew what you were supposed to be looking for - the lingering tension all around the paddock whenever George and Max appeared, together or separately, it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t the negative kind at all, it was all about careful curiosity and, even though most of the drivers wouldn’t admit that openly, about a quiet hope that their suspicions were true. Because if they were, that would mean Max and George having found the happiness they both deserved. 

Nobody said anything out loud, but some things were clearer than words: the way conversations faded every time George or Max entered the room, the way the drivers shot them playful smiles or dropped comments that would have meant nothing in different circumstances, but were so obvious in the context of the open secret. Only Alex wouldn’t join in, always stood silent with a small smile on his face that made others think he knew more than he let on.

All of that kept building up in intensity until it reached some kind of a ridiculous climax during the Baku GP weekend. The rookies giggling and whispering like the teenagers most of them were, with the exception of poor Kimi who had completely lost control of the situation. Carlos gossiping with Charles as if the Ferrari divorce had never happened. Lando and Oscar so deep in discussions about entirely different things than strategies and car improvements. 

When Max and George entered the paddock on race day, they were aware of every stare and whisper that followed. To be quite honest, the pair found it a bit endearing - how all the drivers believed they were so good at hiding and pretending they knew nothing, but in reality everything was written all over their faces. 

The drivers’ parade was no different - little groups of drivers scattered here and there on the platform, waving to the fans and smiling for the cameras, but their actual focus was clear with their eyes drifting to the unconventional pair standing side by side, a bit further away from most of their gridmates. 

‘Are they still looking at us?’ George asked with a sigh, half-amused and half-annoyed as he leaned down on his elbows against the railing of the platform.

Max, standing close enough to keep the gossip going, but not yet touching, looked over his back and caught Lando staring at them with a silly grin on his face. The moment he noticed the Dutchman’s attention, his eyes shot back to Oscar and he almost stumbled over his own legs, trying to pretend he wasn’t looking. Max just snorted at his clumsiness and turned back to George:

‘Looks like it. Lando barely avoided a fall on live TV trying to look away from us.’

‘Blimey, they’re acting like freaking teenagers on a school trip.’ The Brit tried to act angry, but he couldn’t help the laugh that followed. ‘I feel like I’m in a movie, in a very bad romantic comedy to be precise.’

‘Don’t act like you don’t like romantic comedies.’ Max interjected with a dead-serious tone of voice. ‘We’ve been together for less than two months and you’ve already forced me to watch at least five.’

‘Hey, but they were good romantic comedies! I’m talking about those cheesy ones where the main characters confess love and kiss in the pouring rain while a nostalgic piano plays in the background…’ George explained patiently, clearly offended at the Dutchman’s try of undermining his movie taste. ‘And you have to admit you enjoyed ‘The Materialists’ when we saw it together.’

‘Yeah, I mean… Daddy Pedro Pascal was in it, so…’ Max teased with a smug smile, immediately earning a hard nudge in the ribs from his partner. ‘Ouch, what was that for?’

‘Really, daddy Pedro Pascal ?’ The Brit looked at him, brows high in disbelief, before leaning closer and changing his tone into a whisper. ‘Is daddy Pedro Pascal hotter than me?’

‘Oh, my Georgie is jealous!’ Max leaned in as well so that only a few inches were separating their faces, his voice carrying that playful note George loved hearing. ‘And what would you do if I said that yes, Pedro is hotter?’

The Brit’s eyebrows shot even higher at the question before he looked away, chuckling gently. When he looked back into Max’s eyes though, his stare was serious and tone solemn:

‘If you did, then I wouldn’t even wait for the end of the race, but follow you into your room right after the parade, slam you into the wall, rip that awful RedBull merch off of you and use my very skillful set of lips until you’d remember who is actually hotter.’ George’s eyes darkened with every next word said, so by the end their usual baby-blue changed into the colour of an approaching storm. 

‘My, my, somebody’s naughty today…’ Max smirked in response, trying to keep his coolness even though the image painted by George made him shiver with want. ‘And what if I said that Pedro Pascal could walk into my room stark naked and it would do nothing to me, but just the thought of you gets me high and ready for you?’

‘Oh…’ A big smile spread across George’s face. ‘Then I would do exactly the same with the exception of letting you do whatever the hell you want to me afterwards.’

‘God, you have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.’ Max’s hand found its way to the one George was holding the railing with and interlaced their fingers. 

George squeezed his hand tight in return, but still shot a quick look above Max’s back. Their gridmates were still deep in conversations with each other, but they kept looking over to the pair more and more often. 

‘They’re still looking.’ The Brit looked back into Max’s eyes and what he saw in them was a quiet but fierce determination. He realized what the Dutchman wanted to do even before he said anything. 

‘Then let’s show them, right?’ Max invoked their morning conversation.

George took in a deep breath, focused on the man in front of him and on blocking out all the outside noise until all he could see were those icy-blue eyes he could drown in. Max grabbed him by the waist and pulled close and tight against his body. The Brit’s breath hitched at the sudden intensity of the contact. 

‘Do you trust me, schatje ?’ The question came quiet, but Max’s voice was all that George could hear in the moment. 

The Brit nodded slowly and placed one of his hands on the nape of his lover’s neck as the final sign of invitation. Max smiled ever so gently and finally leaned down to let his lips claim their rightful place on George’s mouth. 

The kiss was tender and slow, tentative at first, but with every second both of them grew more confident that they were doing the right thing, because it felt so good to stop hiding, to show their most important truth. Max’s hand found its way to George’s hair and his fingers tangled in the dark locks as their lips continued to move with precision and harmony. It wasn’t hungry or heated like the ones they shared when their hands trembled as they undressed each other in the sanctuary of their bedroom after a whole day of longing. It was calm, sure, grounded - gentle enough to be a simple declaration of their love, but long enough to send a strong statement: ‘This is us. You won’t bring us apart.’

The drivers around them had been watching the scene with growing interest, exchanging meaningful glances and nudges, but when the pair kissed… All the chit-chat changed into complete silence as every single one of them presented an image of utter shock: eyes wide, jaws on the floor, bodies frozen in the middle of a gesture, brains short-circuited. Even despite all the evidence they’d already seen, all the jokes shared and gossip exchanged, they still weren’t ready for such a stark confirmation of their suspicions. 

Well, every single one of them except for Alex, who seemed to be having the time of his life looking at all the chaos, at his friends’ mortified expressions, and trying to hold in a laugh, which was a very difficult task as his body trembled with the need to let it out. 

Eventually, it was him who broke the stunned silence. With the biggest smile plastered on his face, he masked his laugh behind a cough and followed it with a loud whistle. All the faces turned to him, the sudden sound pulling the drivers’ out of the trance.

Lando was the first one to follow and a second later he joined in with a supportive cheer. Soon enough, everybody started clapping, cheering on and exchanging joyful laughs. Somebody even began chanting ‘Que se besen!’ (probably Carlos or Fernando, hard to say who was the first one.) Somebody shouted ‘Get a room!’ (obviously Lando, to the great joy of the rookies). Poor Kimi sighed with relief that the secret was out in the open and nobody would know about his inability to keep his mouth shut. 

The noise dragged Max and George out of their little bubble and for a moment they stood absolutely stunned, looking at their gridmates in disbelief at the overly enthusiastic reaction. Still, they quickly joined in the laughter, both flushed red and flustered by the attention. George buried his head in the crook of Max’s neck and spoke to into his ear:

‘Is this some kind of a warning from the universe about how embarrassing our wedding could be?’

Max chuckled in answer, the joyful sound pleasantly vibrating in his chest:

‘I think it’s quite a clear signal that none of them should get the invitation.’

‘Good we agree on this one.’ 

George tried answering in a serious tone, but he lost it and burst into another round of laughter. Max thought once again that he’d never heard a more beautiful laugh than this earnest, loud, uncontrolled sound that came from George in the moments of true happiness. 

***

What ensued was CHAOS in capital letters.

The media went crazy trying to come up with the craziest headline and producing articles with the most unhinged explanations. A prank, a bet, some twisted PR game… You name it, everything was considered an option.

The fans lost their marbles, especially those who had been shipping the pair for a longer time and reading into every one of their interactions. Debates started whether the couple’s official name was ‘Gax’ or ‘Russtapen’. Every F1 fan’s social media account was flooded with edits of all the moments when it had been ‘obvious’ the pair had fallen in love (the scene of Max dragging George away from his car after the Spa crash at the centre of them all).

Mercedes and RedBull’s PR teams called in for emergency meetings and lost litres of sweat trying to create the right strategy. After very heated discussions, it was clear that the best solution was to stay silent and somehow survive the chaos of the near future. The statements could wait for when the main storm ended. 

The drivers? It was ridiculous how giddy and joyful they were at the confirmation of their suspicions. The paddock had the main topic of discussions secured for the nearest few months at least. The team principals’ efforts to entirely shift their drivers’ focus to racing were pointless and soon enough they gave up and got invested themselves. 

And most importantly, Max and George were happy.

They were happy it was finally out in the open and they could stop pretending and hiding. Their friends’ clear support assured them they’d made the right decision and all the rest didn’t matter to them at all. The media could write whatever they wanted, the haters had always been there and their mindless comments meant nothing. Max and George had each other, along with the unconditional support of fellow drivers - any hate was useless when met with the whole grid’s clear message. 

The race in Baku was to become one of the most beautiful memories for the pair. They finished P2 and P3, which the commentators would jokingly contribute to the ‘power of love’ considering that they had been starting P8 and P10. How they ran to each other and embraced tightly at the finish was an image that made the whole paddock’s hearts melt. 

Lando, who’d taken the win, just stood by his car with tears in his eyes. When the pair noticed him and gestured to join the hug, he ran into them like a little child on  Christmas morning with his characteristic ‘tyrannosaurus laugh.’ Later, he would find Oscar, hug him tighter than ever and tell him how much he missed him in that moment, which would result in a storm of butterflies in the poor Aussie’s stomach. 

***

Late in the evening, when the emotions of the crazy day simmered down just a little, Max and George made a joint post on their socials. It was a simple photo: the pair standing on the balcony of their hotel room, the city behind them bathed in the rays of the setting sun. They were locked in a tight embrace - Max’s hands resting on George’s hips while the Brit had his arms draped over the other man’s neck. The Dutchman was leaning forward, his lips pressed in a sweet kiss against George’s cheek. Both had their eyes closed, both were smiling, their happiness radiating off of them in a soft glow. Their P2 and P3 trophies stood on a small table in the corner of the picture.

The caption underneath was short and sweet:

The British Prince and the Dutch Lion - the ‘Beauty and the Beast’ retelling you didn’t know you needed.

Top comments:

@carlossainz55   Hey, that was my idea, give me the credit, you lovebirds

@alex_albon  No, no, I was the first one who came up with it, Carlos  just eavesdropped on me

@lando  Can we all agree those two are about to become the best power couple the world of motorsport has ever seen???

@oscarpiastri  You are responsible for my spiritual awakening of some sorts… Thank you, I guess?

@charles_leclerc  I can’t, this is almost as cute as my Leo

@kimi.antonelli  I guess I can officially start calling them my grid parents...

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