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Daniel yawned and stretched, his back extending like a cat’s as he rolled over and curled around Max’s warm back. He loved waking up like this, being able to feel Max’s chest rising and falling against his fingertips. Even though they were almost exactly the same height, Max fit so perfectly in his embrace whenever they slept.
When they’d first started dating, Daniel used to tease Max about being the little spoon, and Max had initially responded by denying it grumpily and, just to prove his point, insisting on spooning Daniel at night instead of the other way around. He’d continued this way stubbornly—and Daniel had let him, since being in Max’s embrace was far from the worst thing in the world—until one night when Max had had a nightmare, about his father no less, and Daniel had woken up to him holding back sobs and immediately gathered Max into his arms and whispered him back to sleep.
Ever since that night, Max had always been the little spoon.
Though Daniel usually woke up after Max, on the rare days he woke a little earlier he’d cherish the moment. Like right now, when he was running his fingers through Max’s bedhead hair, watching the Dutchman’s sleeping face look as peaceful as Daniel had ever seen it. Daniel remembered a time when Max would always fall asleep looking troubled, his brow furrowed and his lips turned downward in a frown. The Aussie was grateful that over time, Max had grown happier, safer, more relaxed. Daniel liked to think he’d been the reason for that.
When Max finally woke, Daniel smiled fondly into his sea-blue eyes.
“He-ello,” Max said before blushing at the way his voice had cracked.
“Morning, sunshine,” Daniel smiled, leaning in to press a kiss onto Max’s lips.
“Ugh, it’s race week,” Max groaned, flopping back down onto the pillow.
“You mean rawe ceek,” Daniel smirked.
Max chuckled. “You idiot,” he retorted as he snatched his phone from where it was charging and started scrolling.
“Looks like we got our press conference assignments,” Max commented.
“Nice,” Daniel said. In accordance with COVID-19 guidelines, instead of the panel-style pre-race conferences, this season they were interviewing drivers in pairs. “Who you got?”
“Lewis,” Max said, shrugging.
“Oh,” Daniel said, frowning for a second before he replaced it with an easy grin. Max had his back turned to him and thankfully didn’t see his momentary slip-up.
“They’re probably expecting some drama between us if they paired us together. But we’ll probably just dodge questions about the title race and make fun of the reporters,” Max chuckled.
Daniel nodded, but inside his stomach lurched. He couldn’t help it; over the past few months he’d seen how close Max and Lewis had grown. It was partially because the title race was so close and thus they spent a lot more time together on media duties, but Daniel could tell that Max genuinely enjoyed Lewis’ company. And even though Daniel knew that Max would never be unfaithful to him—heck, the whole world knew he and Max were together—he still couldn’t shake the unease that crept into his heart.
He bit his lip and got up, wrapping his hands around Max’s waist and pulling him close.
“I love you,” he said, cheekily nipping at Max’s bottom lip.
Max let out a content sound, and Daniel rested his cheek on Max’s shoulder.
Later that night, once the pre-race interviews were over, Daniel lay in bed while Max was taking a shower, scrolling lazily through Instagram. He commented a heart on Max’s latest post—of the video Dan had taken of his boyfriend in the passenger’s seat of the helicopter they took to the Paul Ricard circuit together.
As he scrolled through mindlessly, he frowned when he saw a post of a clip from Max and Lewis’ interview, when Max had turned to Lewis mid-sentence before chuckling, his eyes crinkling up in that way Daniel absolutely loved.
Daniel felt his heart dropping as he looked through the comments.
omg max deffo has a crush on lewis, dan better watch out
ok I know he’s with dan BUT damn get yourself a man who looks at you like max looks at lewis
And then the real kicker:
max looks at lewis just like he used to look at dan
Dan froze as he read the comment over and over again, feeling his throat close up. He didn’t know why the comment affected him so much—he was a pretty confident guy, and he trusted Max. Trusted him not to ever break his heart.
But Daniel wasn’t an idiot. As he replayed the clip, he knew it was true. He recognized the way Max looked at Lewis. Because he’d been on the receiving end of that very same look. It was the same way Max had looked at Daniel all those years ago when they used to film their On the Sofa videos for Red Bull.
He bit his lip, exiting out of the Instagram app and putting his phone on the bedside table. He knew that Max loved him—he never questioned it. But sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if Max only loved him because he was the first person Max really got along with when he got to F1. It was clear that Max also got along well with Lewis now… Lewis who was 7-time World Champion, someone who could compete alongside Max and challenge him on track in ways Daniel used to but probably never would again.
And for all the confidence he had, Daniel still felt those pinpricks of doubt. Did Max deserve better? Max was going to be World Champion one day, of that Daniel was sure. And why would Max settle with Daniel if he could be with someone like Lewis?
He listened to the sound of the shower running and sighed, willing his stupid, jealous thoughts away. He couldn’t be jealous. He needed to get a hold of himself. This was Max, after all. Max was his. They were happy together.
But deep down Daniel knew the reason he was so scared: if Max broke his heart, he didn’t know if he’d be okay.
Groaning, Daniel got up and made his way to the bathroom. Max turned around and smiled at him under the spray of the water, biting his lip to keep in a giddy smile as Daniel undressed cheekily and got into the shower with him. Daniel just needed to feel close to Max now, as he felt the Dutchman moan into the kiss he’d pulled him into.
And if he happened to leave an obvious hickey right below Max’s jaw, in a place he knew his fireproofs wouldn’t be able to hide, it definitely wasn’t to remind anyone that Max was his and his alone.
“Oh my God,” Vicky, Max’s press officer, exclaimed in surprise while pointing to Max’s jaw. “That’s a hickey, isn’t it? That’s a fucking hickey and you have to go into the press pen in two god damn minutes. Are you trying to kill me?”
“Okay, well this is something, for once, that is not my fault,” Max said, glaring half-heartedly at Daniel who stood beside him doing his best to look innocent.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Everyone knows we’re together anyway, and I’m sure no one will notice.”
Daniel knew he was lying. Because in a few hours, the internet exploded, with thousands of people commenting on Max’s hickey and teasing the couple with assumptions about their pre-race sex life.
Daniel pretended to be sorry when Vicky and Christian had told him and Max off later that night, but he couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction he felt. And the fact that Max had done absolutely nothing to actually hide the hickey made Dan love him even more.
Yeah, let the fucking world know he’s mine.
Lando bit his tongue as Pierre forced him off the track, seeing the Frenchman’s Alpha Tauri go wide right in front of him.
“He forced me off!” he complained on the radio. “What’s this idiot doing? He even went off himself.”
“Copy, understood Lando,” his race engineer responded.
Lando frowned, refraining from commenting further on Pierre’s ridiculous move. He could have taken them both out with his reckless driving.
When he overtook Pierre in the next lap, he had to stop himself from shooting him a middle finger as he passed. Lando knew he had to get a better grip of his emotions on track, but sometimes he didn’t have the patience.
He knew that Charles had fallen behind quite a bit—Lando’s engineer had mentioned that the Monegasque had been complaining about tire wear pretty early on and was now struggling to even stay in the points. His heart went out for his boyfriend, but he knew he had to focus on his own race now.
After all, that was the promise they’d made to each-other in their first month of dating: If either of us is having a bad race, the other one can’t be thrown off. The other one needs to just keep their head down score the points for the both of us.
Daniel’s grin felt like it was splitting his face as he jogged from the garage to the main strait where the top 3 finishers were parking. He got there in time to see Max and Checo embracing, and he felt a burst of happiness in his chest when he saw that Max was practically bouncing with joy.
Daniel forced himself to be patient as Max launched himself into his mechanics’ arms, even though all he wanted to wrap Max up in the biggest hug he could muster. As Max made his way through the crowd, Daniel leaned over the fence.
“Maxy!”
Max turned around immediately and his blue eyes lit up like a gas flame when he saw Daniel. The Aussie laughed as Max clambered, rather clumsily, over the fence that separated them to bury himself in Dan’s embrace.
“You drove so well today!” Max exclaimed, his voice muffled in his balaclava. “P5!”
“Me?!” Daniel shouted back. “Are you kidding me? I’m so proud of you, baby, you drove a fucking fantastic race start to finish.”
Daniel wished he could kiss Max, but the Dutchman still had his helmet on. He settled on pressing a kiss to the front of his helmet, meeting Max’s excited blue eyes with just as much joy.
And then, and not before grinning mischievously, Daniel wrapped his arms around Max’s waist and lifted him off the ground, pressing his cheek against Max’s chest. Max let out an unexpectedly high-pitched giggle and Daniel thought yes, fuck yes, that’s the best sound in the world.
Daniel saw Checo running up to Max before hugging the taller man from behind, lifting him up even further. The Red Bull mechanics got rowdy now, joining them in their three-person party. They counted to three and hoisted Max into the air… one, two, three times before letting their race winner go. Max was still laughing and immediately curled back into Daniel’s embrace.
Daniel helped Max get his helmet and balaclava off—his personal trainer Brad coming dutifully to collect them—but before he could cup the back of Max’s head and bring him in for a sweet victory kiss, he saw Lewis approaching them.
“Hey, congrats man,” Lewis said, smiling politely at Max.
Max turned around and his eyes lit up upon seeing the Brit. They clasped hands, and Daniel felt another spike of jealousy shoot through his chest.
“Thanks, you too,” Max responded, sounding a lot more composed than he ever was around Daniel.
“You going to the podium party later?”
Max was taking a sip from his water bottle and didn’t respond immediately, so Daniel decided to cut in.
“Podium party?” he asked, keeping a protective hand on Max’s shoulder.
Max cleared his throat. “Yeah, the race organizers are hosting a gathering tonight to celebrate the day.”
“Oh, I didn’t know about that,” Daniel said, frowning.
“It’s only for the podium-sitters,” Lewis said, shrugging.
Daniel swallowed, gritting his teeth. Yet another thing Max and Lewis could share without him.
Max seemed to sense that something in his mood had shifted, because the Dutchman looked at him curiously.
“I’m sure I told you about it,” he said, his voice a little softer now.
Daniel shrugged, trying to look unbothered. “You must have, yeah.”
Lewis just smiled again before excusing himself, but not before patting Max on the back in congratulations again.
Max looked like he was going to say something, but Daniel really just needed to kiss him now. But as he wrapped his fingers around the back of Max’s neck, he saw Vicky rushing over before she was tugging at Max’s racing suit.
“Come on, Max, they’re calling for you on the podium!”
Max looked at him apologetically before he was whisked away, and Daniel clenched his jaw, trying his best to keep the smile on his face.
After the podium celebration, where Max had pointed to Daniel while lifting his trophy and Daniel had made a heart with his hands in response (a bit cheesy, but Daniel literally gave no fucks), the Aussie settled next to Max’s race engineer, GP, as they waited for Max to finish up with post-race media pen interviews.
“You must be really proud of him,” Daniel said, nudging GP mischievously. The man was still soaked in champagne from having gone up to the podium to retrieve Red Bull’s trophy with Max.
GP looked at him and rolled his eyes. Max’s engineer was usually calm and collected—when Dan had still been at Red Bull he and Max would joke that GP was a robot with how emotionless he could be—but Daniel could tell from his smile that he was genuinely happy.
“We had a good race,” he said, and Daniel had to laugh at his diplomacy. “You didn’t do so bad out there yourself, mate. Good to see some good DR overtakes.”
“I’m shocked you had time to notice with everything else going on,” Daniel chuckled.
“Well, Max asked all of us to keep an eye on you, after all,” GP shrugged, smiling softly. “Once a Red Bull driver, always a Red Bull driver.”
Daniel blinked, not expecting the touching comment from the usually stoic engineer.
“He’s something else entirely, isn’t he, our Max?” Daniel responded.
“And after all these years he only has eyes for you,” GP said grinning. Daniel followed his gaze back up to the media pen, where, true to GP’s words, Max was looking at him fondly. When he saw that Daniel had caught him staring, he blushed and looked away.
“Happy father’s day, by the way,” Daniel said to GP.
“I don’t have kids, you know,” GP chuckled.
“Oh come on,” Daniel rolled his eyes. “You’re as close to a father as Max has ever had. You know he considers this trophy his Father’s Day present for you.”
Daniel saw something shift in GP’s eyes—his gaze softened, and he smiled at Daniel, nodding slightly.
“I know.”
Lando had looked everywhere for Charles but hadn’t been able to find him after the race. The Monegasque hadn’t texted him, which he usually did, and Lando had initially been worried. Charles was generally good at handling loss and disappointment—he was a Ferrari driver after all—but Lando still had flashbacks from the shitshow that was Monaco and he wanted to make sure his boyfriend was okay, especially after finishing P16.
He decided to make a stop at the McLaren garage to drop off his things, and as soon as he arrived he saw Max, Daniel, and Michael, Daniel’s personal trainer, celebrating outside Daniel’s driver’s room.
When he walked towards them, Michael acknowledged him with a small smile and an easy “hey Lando, congrats!”. Daniel also turned and smiled, immediately congratulating his teammate for a job well done. Daniel’s greeting was much more subdued than an average person may expect from the honey badger, but Lando supposed he was partially to blame for how reserved Daniel was. He hadn’t exactly made an effort to socialize with Daniel much since he’d joined the team, creating an almost icy, unspoken distance between them.
But no, Daniel’s reaction wasn’t what offended him.
What offended him was Max, who was supposedly his best friend, straight up not noticing him when he’d come in, too wrapped up in Daniel. And, by the looks of it, the Dutchman was already a few drinks in, giggling like crazy against Daniel’s chest as Michael cracked another joke.
“Congrats to you too, Max,” Lando commented sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“Lando!” Max exclaimed, finally noticing him.
Lando rolled his eyes, and Max frowned, seeming to sense his tension.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he hiccupped.
“Maybe you’d know if you weren’t a shit faced lightweight,” Lando muttered under his breath.
He didn’t know if Max had registered what he said—the Dutchman only looked confused—but Daniel certainly had because the Aussie frowned and look one step toward forward, pulling Max back toward his chest protectively.
“Lando,” he said, shocked.
But when Daniel locked eyes with him, he immediately saw Daniel’s expression turn from angry to concerned.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Lando shook his head before rushing out of the garage.
He didn’t even know why he’d lashed out at Max. He knew Max had only ignored him because for all of the Dutchman’s “I can hold my alcohol!” bravado, Max was always a pile of giggles halfway through his first drink and probably wouldn’t have noticed a train crashing through the garage if Daniel didn’t point it out.
He wasn’t jealous of Daniel or anything. He had Charles, after all, and he was in love with the Monegasque—had been for as long as he could remember. Maybe it was because he was scared of losing Max, the only person outside of Charles who didn’t dismiss him as an immature child. The only person who could stand hanging out with him. The only true friend he had.
It had been a piece of cake maintaining their friendship over the past few years, but something had changed when Daniel moved to McLaren. He and Daniel didn’t really get along, despite there being no explicit rift between them, and deep inside Lando was afraid that Max would choose Daniel over him in any scenario, leaving Lando with no friends once again.
Lando sighed, clenching his fists in frustration.
But now wasn’t the time for him to be selfish. He had to find Charles. It was Charles who needed him now.
Lando sighed in relief when he got to the Ferrari garage and they told him that Charles was in his driver’s room, having been caught up in some post-race team debriefs. That explained why his boyfriend hadn’t texted him.
As he approached the door to his boyfriend’s room, which he noticed was slightly ajar, he heard Charles talking to someone.
“I can’t believe I finished in sixteenth,” Charles was saying, his voice wracked with disbelief and self-hatred.
Lando heard someone shush Charles gently, and his heart broke. He quickened his pace, assuming that maybe Seb or Charles’ race engineer was in there with him, comforting him.
But when he opened the door and saw Charles standing beside the small sofa with Pierre wrapping him in a hug, Lando frowned.
“Lando!” Charles said, his eyes lighting up when he saw the Brit in the doorway.
But Lando could barely register what Charles was saying.
Charles had looked to Pierre for comfort before him? He knew they were childhood friends, best friends, but Lando had thought, perhaps foolishly, that Charles would always come to him first.
Had he not done a good enough job in Monaco to comfort him? Had he said something wrong, something stupid?
Why had his best friend and boyfriend both chosen other people over him?
Why did no one ever choose him first?
As Lando backed away from the door, ignoring Charles’ calls, tears blurred his vision and he angrily wiped them away before bolting out of the garage to the surprise of all the Ferrari mechanics.
It wasn’t just his incident with Pierre on track today that made Lando a little on edge about the Frenchman. It was more the fact that Pierre knew Charles better than anyone. They’d been friends forever, had grown up together… Pierre had a part of Charles that Lando would never get—his past, his childhood. Lando could never measure up to that.
Charles and Max didn’t seem to need him, but Lando needed them. And this realization was much more than he could handle right now.
Daniel made his way through the paddock, glad to finally be done with his post-race media duties with McLaren, as he could now join the celebrations in the field next to the Red Bull station.
He smiled when he saw Max finishing up his interview with Ted Kravitz by the sculpture of the big blue bear before he walked alongside Vicky and Brad toward the other end of the field. His boyfriend wore an easy smile and had a Red Bull can in his hands that had likely been switched out for some kind of hard liquor or champagne. Checo was also a little way up the field, smiling with Christian and his race engineer.
Daniel moved to join them but stopped when he spotted Max again, this time conversing with Lewis by the fences on the far end of the field. Lewis looked more relaxed than he’d been before the podium, no doubt having had the time to cool down from his disappointing race, and Max jerked his head back and laughed in that way Daniel had fallen in love with all those years ago. Daniel tensed when he saw Lewis brush his hand on Max’s upper arm with a smile.
“You should watch out, you know.”
Daniel turned and saw Nico Rosberg next to him, nodding his head in greeting. Daniel didn’t like the smirk on the blond’s face. The older man was eyeing Max and Lewis too, and let out an amused chuckle.
“Lewis likes shiny new toys,” he said.
Daniel frowned, gritting his teeth, and just barely resisted the urge to sucker punch Nico in the face for even implying Max was a toy. Daniel knew Lewis and Nico had been a thing way back when, before they’d both made it to F1 and saw the competition tear them apart. The Aussie could sense that Nico had always borne a hatred towards Lewis since then—an underlying anger, perhaps, about what could have been—but Daniel wasn’t close enough to either of them to know more than that. He stayed away from the drama for the most part. It had been none of his business.
Until now, because the way Nico was looking at Max, like he was some kind of trophy that Lewis was eyeing up, made Daniel’s blood boil.
“Max isn’t a toy,” he gritted out.
Nico hummed, the sound grating on Daniel’s nerves.
“Well, he’s certainly gotten Lewis’ interest,” Nico said.
That was enough for Daniel, and he turned around like a whip, eyes blazing with anger.
“What the fuck is your deal?” he growled. “You trying to get under my skin, Rosberg?”
“Woah, the honey badger has claws,” Nico responded, not looking at all perturbed.
“Yeah, he bites too,” Daniel retorted.
“I don’t know why you’re so worked up,” Nico smiled.
Daniel clenched his fist. He wasn’t one for violence, and heck, he had a pretty good grip on his temper, but not for shit like this. Not when Max was involved.
“Get out of here, Rosberg,” he said, a warning tone to his voice now.
“Sorry, didn’t know you were so protective of him,” Nico said, shrugging. “I was just thinking they seem like a good fit, you know? World Champion and future World Champion.”
“I said get out of here,” Daniel repeated.
“Why should I?” Nico asked.
Daniel almost punched him then. Apparently Nico had woken up and chosen violence that day, huh?
But Daniel was better than that. He wouldn’t stoop to Nico’s level.
“You know, if you still love Lewis, there are better ways to deal with your emotions,” he said simply. “Painting him out to be an asshole always looking for shiny new toys probably isn’t going to do you any good.”
Nico blinked then, and Daniel knew he’d caught him off guard.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to make Nico walk away. Instead, the blond’s stare simply hardened.
“Well, at least I’m not the one fooling myself,” he said icily. “Have you seen the way Max looks at Lewis?”
Just as Daniel was about to throw a punch, Nico went tumbling sideways, barely catching his balance to stay on his feet.
Daniel looked up and saw Max, who’d been the one to shove the blond, standing beside him looking absolutely furious.
Daniel thought back to the last time he’d seen Max look so angry. It had been a while. Max had mellowed out over the years, after all. The last time Max had looked this angry it had been after his father had spat at Daniel’s feet when Jos had confronted them both after they’d come out to the world about their relationship.
Daniel had barely been able to hold Max back from punching his father then. But now, he looked just as livid, his blue eyes far from the color of the Ibiza sea—now a frigid cold ice.
“What the fuck did you just say to him?” Max asked.
“Max,” Nico said. “I was only—”
“You were telling him about the way I look at Lewis?” Max asked, and Daniel didn’t miss the way his voice cracked a little through his anger. “Are you that small of a person? Still angry that Lewis left you 6 years ago because you were a fucking asshole to him?”
“I—”
“I don’t care about what you have to say, Rosberg,” Max interrupted him. “Get the fuck out of here and leave us alone. If I see you even look at Dan wrong, I’ll fucking end you.”
Daniel held back a small smile when Nico finally relented, though he did open his mouth as if to say one more thing, before finally deciding to retreat back into the paddock.
“Damn,” Daniel whistled. “Way to defend my honor.”
But when Max turned around to face Daniel, his eyes held no humor. He looked worried, and he immediately reached for his boyfriend.
“Dan,” he whispered, his voice a little shaky. “D-do you think I have feelings for Lewis or something?”
Daniel blinked. Of course Max wasn’t completely oblivious, and Daniel hadn’t been that good at hiding his jealousy. It was only going to be a matter of time before Max caught wind, and overhearing Nico’s comments didn’t help.
But hearing Max sound so uncertain, so guilty—it felt so wrong.
“No,” Daniel responded immediately. “Of course not. I trust you, of course I don’t think you—”
“I know you trust me,” Max said gently, and Daniel could feel Max’s grip tighten around his own hands. He held Max’s right hand to his heart and relished in how familiar the gesture felt to him, how familiar Max felt to him.
He had to be honest with him.
“I just know you like him, you get along with him,” Daniel said, trying to keep his voice level. “And… sometimes when I see you in interviews, the way you look at him reminds me of the way you look at me. And then, you know, you spend a lot of time with him lately because you’re both in the title race… he’s a 7-time World Champion, and I’m—”
“You’re Daniel Joseph Ricciardo, the lion of my heart?” Max answered, and he said it with such seriousness that Dan couldn’t help but smile.
He nodded slowly, a soft smile spreading across his lips. Because standing here with Max, just the two of them, just feeling Max’s body against his own, Daniel knew Max loved him. Knew they were forever.
But Max bit his lip, then, drawing away from their embrace to look into Dan’s eyes.
“I do get along with Lewis,” Max said. “But he’s not… Daniel, you’re it for me. Nothing can ever compare to this. To you. I just…”
Max looked so confused, as if he couldn’t comprehend how Daniel could ever think Max would even look anywhere else.
“I’m sorry, I let my jealousy get the best of me, and I…” Daniel sighed.
“This isn’t your fault,” Max shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice,”
Before Daniel could respond, Max continued: “Daniel, you made me the person I am today,” he whispered. “You taught me how to love myself, love racing, like really, genuinely love racing. You made me believe I was worthy of this life we share. You helped me get away from my father—”
“You did all of that, Maxy,” Daniel interjected.
“I know I did,” Max said, nodding. “I know it was me too. But not just me. It was us together. You’re the reason I love my life so much, Daniel. You’re my reason for everything. I don’t want to do any of this if it’s not with you.”
Daniel let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and Max wrapped his arms around his neck.
“That’s why nothing, no one, could ever compare,” Max said.
“I’m sorry, Maxy,” Daniel said. “I love you so much. I just never want to lose—”
“You won’t,” Max said.
Their embrace was interrupted by Checo, who called at them and waved them over to get a picture with him by the big blue bear on the field.
Max grinned and tugged Daniel along by the hand, and the Aussie felt his heart soar.
He knew he’d probably still feel those pinpricks of jealousy arise whenever he saw Max and Lewis, but those would subside eventually. Because he knew Max, and knew the Dutchman’s heart was his to hold. As his was Max’s.
And as Checo took a picture of Max and Daniel kissing on the field, with GP and Pierre spraying champagne all over them, Daniel felt like he would never stop smiling.
“Okay, Max, we’re almost to the car,” Checo said, chuckling as he held Max up to prevent him from stumbling.
Max was giggling, a little more than tipsy by now as they’d all celebrated well into the evening. Daniel was on his other side, supporting his shoulder.
“You know Dan has the best eyes,” Max was saying.
Daniel looked at Checo with a bemused expression. Max had been talking the poor Mexican’s ear off, but Checo, who was also still riding the high of his second podium with Red Bull, was happy to listen to him.
“Like a poopy brown, no?” Checo responded. “That’s what you said in the video, no?”
Max burst into giggles again. “I did say that but I meant it in a good way!”
“Okay, Max,” Checo chuckled, helping Max into the backseat of the car they’d called to pick them up and bring them back to the hotel.
Daniel smiled as he got Max’s seatbelt on safely, but before he got into the passenger’s seat, he noticed a light on in the McLaren garage beside them and frowned.
“Give me a second, guys, yeah?” he said, nodding at Checo before jogging to the garage and finding that the light was coming from Lando’s driver’s room.
Lando was sitting on the couch inside, looking forlorn.
“Lando?” he asked.
The younger Brit looked up and bit his lip.
“Oh, hey, Dan,” he said softly.
“Are you okay?” Dan asked. He knew he and Lando weren’t especially close, but he cared about his teammate, and he knew Max cared about him loads too.
Lando nodded, but he looked uncertain.
“Max wasn’t ignoring you earlier, you know,” Daniel said. “Not on purpose, anyway.”
“I know,” Lando sighed. “I just… I don’t know.”
Daniel nodded, not wanting to push the Brit.
“I miss him sometimes,” Lando said after a minute had passed. “I know he’s happy with you, and I’m happy for you both. He was just my best friend, and—”
“He still is,” Daniel responded gently. “He loves you, Lando. Max has always had a hard time making friends, but you and him… he really cares about you.”
Lando nodded and sighed again, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Sorry. I know I’ve made things awkward between us.”
“Hey, no sweat, bud,” Daniel said, smiling. “I get it, you know? I know it’s hard getting a new teammate. It ain’t easy having to compete against someone else. I know you liked Carlos a lot. But I’m not here to make your life difficult. I want to help you, I want to help McLaren. So… you don’t need to be friends with me, but just know I’m here for you. I can be your friend whenever you need me.”
Lando looked at him, and for maybe the first time Daniel saw beyond the child-like defiance in the Brit’s eyes to see a genuine vulnerability.
“I think I’d like that,” Lando said. “Being friends, I mean.”
Daniel smiled. “You got it.”
Someone cleared their throat behind him and Daniel looked to see Charles in the doorway, wearing an expression that rather matched the one Lando had on when Daniel arrived.
“I was just leaving,” Daniel said, shooting Lando a quick smile before patting Charles on the back on his way out.
“Cheri,” Charles whispered.
“Hey,” Lando said, looking at the floor.
“Why did you run away?” he asked.
“You had Pierre,” Lando sighed. He felt like a right asshole, being rude and sarcastic when Charles was suffering after a terrible race, but he was just so hurt and didn’t know how what to do with all those emotions.
“Pierre’s my—”
“He’s your best friend, I know,” Lando sighed, looking away. God, he sounded like a pouting brat.
“You’re my best friend,” Charles said, frowning.
Lando looked up.
“I’ve known Pierre forever, he’s maybe the friend I’ve known for longest, but…” Charles started, his brow furrowing into that confused expression Lando always loved so much. “You’re my best friend, of course. I love you.”
“I…” Lando said. It wasn’t often he was unable to find the words to express what he was feeling, but that seemed to be happening a lot today. “I saw you with him, and I thought you… you went to him first after the race.”
“What?”
Charles looked so genuinely confused that Lando knew he couldn’t possibly be lying, and he immediately felt guilty.
“My phone died right when I saw your texts, before I had a chance to respond,” Charles said. “I couldn’t find my charger, and I bumped into Pierre outside the garage and he had an iPhone charger with him, so… that’s why he was with me.”
Lando blinked. Yeah, yeah he really felt like a fucking idiot now.
“Oh.”
Charles gave Lando a lopsided smile as he sat down next to him.
“I’m sorry if you thought—”
“No, I… I didn’t,” Lando said. “I was just being really stupid. I don’t know. I feel like such a child sometimes. I got angry at Max for ignoring me because he was drunk and paying attention to Dan, then I got mad at you because I thought you were choosing Pierre over me…”
Charles pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to Lando’s forehead.
“I would never,” he whispered.
“I know,” Lando sighed. “I just know I’m not easy to like. I talk shit all the time, I’m obnoxious most of the time, and I never know what I’m doing because adulting is fucking hard… and I guess I don’t want you to get tired of that.”
“How could I?” Charles asked, bringing a hand up to cup Lando’s chin. “Lando, you’re the one who keeps me from doing stupid shit all the time. I literally burn my toast every morning and you’re the one who makes me breakfast. You take care of me… just like I take care of you.”
A small smile spread across Lando’s face as he remembered all the times he and Charles had laughed together at the chaos they created in the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “You’re right.”
“Besides, you’re the only one who puts up with me,” Charles said.
Lando smiled again and when Charles tipped his chin up for a kiss, he returned it readily.
“Of course I put up with you, you twat,” Lando chuckled.
“That’s my boy,” Charles whispered, smiling against the younger man’s lips.
Daniel smiled contentedly as Max rested his head down on his shoulder. They had just taken off to go home to Monaco, and Max was nursing a pretty nasty hangover.
“Never let me drink so much again,” Max groaned, and Dan pressed another kiss onto his fluffy hair.
“I thought you could handle your alcohol, Verstappen!” Charles called from the back seat of the private plane they were flying in.
“Fuck off, Leclerc!” was Max’s response.
“Oi, play nice you two!” Lando chuckled.
Daniel and Max had agreed to let Charles fly with them back to Monaco, but Daniel was convinced Max wouldn’t have agreed to it if it hadn’t been for the fact that Lando was joining them too, as the Brit wanted to spend a few days in Monaco with his boyfriend before having to go back to England. Lando and Max had made up pretty quickly once Max had recovered from his hangover, and Daniel knew they’d be okay. Their friendship was too strong to let a stupid fight get in the way of anything.
Daniel smiled at his phone again, looking at the picture he’d posted a few hours ago to his Instagram: the one Checo had taken of him and Max kissing in front of the big blue bear in France, the spray of champagne adding an air of celebration to the scene. He’d captioned it: Mine <3
As Daniel looked through all the drivers’ Instagram stories, he froze when he saw a story that Lewis had recently posted, about an hour after Dan had posted his picture.
It was a picture of two pairs of legs, side by side on a coffee table, with the TV on in the background. He assumed one of the pairs of legs belonged to Lewis, but he didn’t know whose the other belonged to.
But what really stood out to Daniel about the Instagram story was its caption, which was identical to his: Mine <3
I guess Lewis could tell I was jealous too, Daniel thought. He smiled softly, appreciating that this was Lewis’ way of telling Dan: “I’m not after your man, I have one of my own.”
Daniel was about to put his phone away when he heard Lando and Charles gasping behind him.
“Oh my God, that’s totally him!” Lando squealed.
“What are you screaming about?” Daniel asked while Max groaned, covering his ears with his hands.
“Lewis’ Instagram story! Did you see?” Lando asked.
“Yeah, him with a mystery man, huh?”
“It’s George!” Charles said. “He’s with George!”
“What?” Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I got George those socks for his birthday!” Lando exclaimed. “They have tacos on them!”
Daniel bit back a laugh and he rolled his eyes, looking back at Lewis’ post and smiling.
Good for him, he thought.
Daniel looked over and saw that Max had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and he adjusted his position to make it more comfortable for Max so the Dutchman was now lying on his chest instead.
After deliberating for a second, he took out his phone and took one last selfie of himself and Max, careful not to show too much of Max’s sleeping face as he knew the Dutchman would be annoyed enough (lovingly) about Daniel posting yet another picture of him sleeping.
Before he posted it to his stories, he captioned it: So proud of you, my lion. Forever grateful that after every race, I get to go home with you <3
And a few hours later, when Max had woken up and they were minutes away from touching down, Daniel got a notification on his phone, and spotted Max grinning beside him.
Max had commented: But you are my home.
“Love you,” Daniel whispered, intertwining his fingers with Max’s.
“Love you.”
The sound of Charles and Lando bickering and giggling behind them only added to Dan’s happiness. The French Grand Prix had the reputation for being painfully boring, but as far as Daniel was concerned, it wasn’t so bad.