Work Text:
“Max,” she all but sighs from where she's waiting for him in his hotel room, the frustration clear in her voice when she continues, “come on. We need to-”
“-to go,” he says at the same time she does, knowing all too well she hates it when he does that. He chuckles when he steps out of the bathroom and sees her roll her eyes at him. He doesn’t comment on it though and instead points at the grey button-up shirt she insisted he'd wear, “Are you sure about this?”
He watches her as she knits her eyebrows together as she gives him the once over, “Yes?”
“It’s not too dressed up?”
She rolls her eyes but there's a hint of a smile tugging on the corners of her lips, “It’s an interview with ESPN, Max. I’m not going to let you wear your fuckin’ Red Bull shirt.” She motions him to come closer and holds out her hands, “Come here.”
When he does she tugs on his sleeves before she seems to think better of it and unbuttons one of his cuffs, rolling it up just below his elbow, her fingers ghosting over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She seems oblivious to the effect she has on him and instead lets her eyes wander from his head to his toes and back, “No, yeah, that’s better,” and rolls up the other sleeve as well.
Taking a step back she nods, content with her work no doubt. She reaches for his hair then, letting out another sigh when he takes a step back and shakes his head at her. She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head and raises her eyebrows - a look he knows all too well, one that tells him that no matter how long he's going to fight whatever it is she wants him to do, she's not going to back down and he's going to lose in the end anyway. And so, with an exaggerated sigh only to let her know how much he doesn't agree with whatever it is she's about to do next even though they both know it's all just an act because he could never say 'no' to her, he steps forward again and lets her run her hand through his hair, knowing she likes it when it isn't too coiffed, always telling him it's better for his public image when he doesn't look too perfect. “Alright,” she tells him with a smile as she gives him a final once over with a satisfied nod, “now you’re ready.”
“Let’s go then,” he says, grabbing his watch from the side table in his hotelroom and putting it on as he follows her out the door. “Where are we going again?”
“They’ve set up a studio in one of the meeting rooms on the ground floor of the hotel,” she says from over her shoulder as they make their way to the elevator bay. “Simon’s doing the interview, so it should be alright.”
“Hmm,” Max agrees quietly even though he’s not so sure. It’s not that there’s bad blood between him and Simon, it’s just that sometimes the man keeps pushing certain subjects that, in Max’ opinion at least, are irrelevant at that moment. Or in general.
She laughs as she steps into the elevator, waiting for him to join her before she pushes the button to the floor they’re supposed to go to, “He’s only got an hour so I doubt he’ll be able to do much damage.”
Is he surprised that she seems able to read his mind? No. Not really, anyway. That's what you get for working together as long as they do. “You’ll be there throughout, right?” Max asks, because while it's not that he can’t handle Simon Lazenby on his own, it is that after the way this championship has been decided he knows ESPN, more so than Ziggo, will have some questions he might not necessarily want to answer just yet.
“Yep,” she nods, bumping her shoulder against his, “that’s my job, remember?” She pulls something up on the iPad she’s been cradling in her arms and shows him the screen, “We’ve sent them an email with what they can and can’t discuss and they agreed, so I doubt I’ll have to intervene, but-”
He scoffs, “We’ll see.”
“Hey,” she gently pats his back, “at least it’s Simon and not Damon, right?”
He lets out a humourless chuckle, remembering the last time he spoke with Damon Hill, “Yeah.”
It’s then the elevator dings and so before he has a chance to say anything else she’s already making her way down the corridor to where the meeting room is and so he has no choice but to follow her.
XXX
Hair and make-up doesn’t take long, not in the least because she explicitly tells the makeup girl not to touch his hair. The only thing he gets is a little powder on his face to help with the bright studio lights and so he finds himself in the studio not much later.
There are two comfortable looking chairs that have been put across from each other in front of a large TV screen. The setting almost resembles a living room except for the three cameras pointed towards the scene. Someone from the crew comes up to him and fits him with a microphone, the battery pack tucked into the back pocket of his jeans rather unceremoniously and he's just about to make a snarky remark when he sees Simon walk into the room. Max watches him greet her before he walks over to where Max is standing, offering him a fistbump, “Good to see you, mate.”
Max nods, “Yep.”
“I think we’re ready if you are,” Simon says as he looks at his director who nods in reply. He gestures to the chair on his left, “Please, sit down.”
Max does as he’s told and out of the corner of his eye he can see her hop onto one of the large tables that have been pushed against the wall to make room for this makeshift studio. She smiles at him and throws him a wink that lets him know she’ll be here if he needs her to redirect any questions and that she'll watch for his cues.
The director tells the crew to turn on the spotlights that are spread throughout the room and he finds himself blinking rapidly to help his eyes adjust to the bright lights he's now engulfed in. He doesn’t see anything beyond the area they’re sitting in, doesn’t even see her anymore, but somehow he knows she’s still there.
“Ready?” The director looks at both Simon and Max, waiting for them to confirm that they are before she tells the crew to start rolling. She counts down from five and then the interview is a go.
“Max Verstappen,” Simon says with a smile, “congratulations. You are the new world champion. How does it feel?”
“Thank you,” Max can't help but smile widely, still getting used to this new reality. “It feels good. I mean, it’s still a bit surreal for sure, but we have worked so hard all year, not just me but everyone on the team, so it really feels like we deserved this.”
“Even with all the controversy around it?”
“Yes.” Max shrugs, “A championship isn’t won in just one race, it’s won over the course of a season and I think if you look back at the season as a whole that this was well-deserved.”
Simon nods, “It has been an exceptional year, hasn’t it?” He points at the screen where a graphic with an overview of Max’ season has popped up, “Ten racewins, eighteen podiums, never below second place. That’s impressive. Is it safe to say that the only times you didn’t end up on the podium was through no fault of your own?”
“I think it is, yeah,” Max agrees easily. “If you look at Silverstone and Monza-” he shrugs again, “-that was another car that took me out. Hungary as well. And we all know what happened in Baku, so-”
“Hmm,” Simon agrees. “Had Baku not happened, do you think the championship would have been decided earlier on in the season?”
Max answers as honestly as he can, not only because it's what he always does but also because as far as he's concerned it's the truth, “It’s hard to say. Maybe.”
"Before we get to that, let's start at the very beginning," Simon says and leans back in his chair..
XXX
The conversation after that flows effortlessly, starting at the start of Max’ career first, continuing then by asking him how he felt about becoming the number one driver for Red Bull after Daniel left, before moving on to the most recent season
When Max risks a quick glance at his watch after a while and sees thirty minutes have already passed, he can't help but think this is definitely one of the more relaxed interviews he has done. Then again, up until now he’s always been on good terms with Simon and so he hopes it translates on screen this time as well.
“Now, Max-” Simon says then, shifting in his seat a little as he looks at Max with a smile, “-we’ve heard you talk about your relationship with your race engineer, Gianpiero Lambiase, on many occasions before.” Max watches as Simon glances down at the flashcards in his hands before he continues, “You said, and I quote, ‘I only work with him' and that 'as soon as he quits, I quit too’.”
“Yeah,” Max nods, a smile creeping up on him when he thinks about the relationship he has with his race engineer, “It’s unbelievable how we work together. I mean, of course we can be pretty strict with each other sometimes, but I want that too. He has to tell me when I’m being a jerk and I have to tell him. I always told him that.” Max grins, “He can tell me that on the radio as well, but it’s been going really well lately."
The host laughs at the statement which Max takes as his cue to add, “Helmut always thinks it’s very nice too. Of course is also listening on my side and he finds it very nice how we communicate with each other,” repeating what he told Olav Mol over at Ziggo Sports yesterday.
“Speaking of that communication,” Simon says as he leans back in his chair, tapping his flashcards against his chin as if he's pondering the next question even though Max is sure it's all very well-rehearsed, “it seems like there’s someone else on your team you have the same rapport with as you do with GP.”
Max furrows his brows, not sure whether it’s Christian he’s getting at or-
“I’m talking of course about your personal assistant-”
“Ai," Max draws in a sharp breath and shakes his head but chuckles anyway, "better not let her hear you call her that.” He runs his pinky finger under his bottom lip then, and while Simon and the crew will probably think nothing of the gesture, he knows she will understand that he’s trying to let her know that he’s going to answer any question as honest as he can.
It’s one of the many signals they have started using over the years, a sort of shorthand that only they understand but at the same time tells them everything they need to know. It’s how they communicate during a race weekend, not only in the press pen but in the paddock as well, mostly to let her know when he wants her to step in without being too obvious about it.
“Why not?” Simon asks, interrupting his thoughts.
“It’s a thing,” Max shrugs. He can tell Simon wants to know more by the way he motions for him to go on and so he explains, “We’ve been friends for a long time before she came to work with me-”
“Interesting,” Simon says with a tilt of his head and a mischievous smile. “Saying she works with you, not for you.”
“Oh no,” Max chuckles and shakes his head. “No, she would kill me if I ever said that. We’re a team. We work together.”
"Are those your words? Or hers?"
Max can feel himself getting a little defensive because what the hell is Simon getting at? He tries his best to keep a neutral tone to his voice when he answers, "Mine."
“I see,” Simon nods, his voice a little kinder now that he must have understood how Max felt about his last question. “just how long have you been working together?”
“She joined the team before the 2017 season started, so going on five years now.” He points three fingers to the ground then, letting her know that he’s ok with the line of questioning for now but that she can intervene if she wants to.
“Five years,” the older man repeats. “That’s a long time already-”
“Yeah,” Max nods, “but we have known each other for much longer.” He doesn't know why he says it, knows it will only raise more questions, but for once he doesn't care. It's time people got to know her a little better.
“Is that so?”
“Her Dad was my father’s race engineer,” Max explains with a smile.
“Ah,” realisation sets in for Simon then, who lets out a laugh, “of course. How could I miss that?”
“Most people do,” Max offers because it’s true. Back then social media wasn’t a big deal and so, while they did show the crews during pit stops and in the garage, most of them stayed rather anonymous. “We would see each other in the paddock during race weekends and her family used to go on summer holidays with us, so yeah, we have been friends ever since we were born, really.”
“How does that happen then? You two being best-” Simon looks at Max for confirmation. He nods, because yes, she is his best friend, “-friends for years prior and then to have her work for-” Simon laughs and shakes his head, quickly correcting himself, “-with you? She’s the same age as you are, right?”
“She’s one month older,” Max admits easily, knowing it will make her smile. It’s something she likes to use to her advantage whenever he’s in one of his moods and doesn’t necessarily want to see her point of view. Always telling him to listen to her because she is his senior. He sits up a little straighter as he recalls how it all started, “When I first got promoted to Red Bull she visited a couple of the races that year, including Spa, and uh-” he can’t help but smile at the memory, “I was pretty upset when Räikkönen accused me of dangerous driving, so I while I was sulking in a corner of the garage somewhere she came up to me and gave me a piece of mind, basically.” He laughs, “Told me to quit moping and get on with it. Same thing happened in Singapore after I got sandwiched by the two Ferraris. I was so angry, but she basically told me to suck it up and move on.”
Simon nods for him to continue.
“Christian saw that and I guess he liked the way she was able to pull me out of those ‘episodes’-” he air-quotes the word, “-so he contacted her and asked her if she’d like to join the team next season. Her official title is Communication’s Manager, but she is so much more than that-"
“And you were ok with that? With Christian making that decision?”
Max nods, “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well,” Simon shifts in his seat again, “being friends is one thing, but then staying friends while working together. That can be challenging for some, I suppose.”
“Not for us.”
“Would you say that if anything it helps you work together?”
Max scoffs at the question, “Of course it does.”
“So no conflict of interest then?” Simon shifts in his seat again, “The friendship doesn’t get in the way of your work relationship? Or maybe it’s rather that work doesn’t get in the way of your private life?”
“No,” Max shakes his head, again pointing three fingers at the floor even though he hopes she allows him to go on a little more because he thinks it’s time people know how much he values her. “I think we are both very capable of separating one from the other. But it’s never been necessary. We are always honest with each other, even when what we have to say may not be what the other wants to hear.”
“Like we saw her do in Baku?” Simon nods towards the screen, “Let’s take a look.”
XXX
Baku, June 2021
“Max Emilian Verstappen-”
He sighs, “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I know you don’t,” you counter with an equally frustrated sigh, “but you are going to listen anyway.”
Even though he’s got his back towards you, looking at the screens in the garage and comparing it to the data the team have given him so he can try to figure out where that tyre failure came from, you can tell he’s rolling his eyes and it does nothing to better your mood.
You take a step towards him, your hand on his arm to make sure he listens, “Checo won, Max. You are going to that podium ceremony and you are going to be happy for your teammate because that’s what teammates do.”
“I’m looking at data,” he counters, holding up the stack of papers he’s been staring at for the past ten minutes or so.
“The data isn’t going anywhere,” you tell him, your voice a little kinder now because maybe that’s the approach you need to take here. “Come on.”
“No.”
“Max-” you try again.
“No,” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. Well, low and dangerous to anyone else. To you it’s just him being an asshole and so you snatch the papers from his hand and put them aside. He turns towards you with a scowl, “What the fuck did you do that for?”
“Shut up,” you tell him, pointing your finger at him. “I don't want to hear it, Max. I know you were in the lead, I know you were well underway to score a first place here, ok? But you didn’t.” He starts to protest and so you hold up your hand to let him know you’re not finished, “It sucks, I know that, and I’m not trying to soften the blow here or tell you that it’s no big deal because it is. Ok? It is. But Checo just won the fuckin’ race, his first ever podium for Red Bull and so you are going to go out there-” you point towards the pitlane, “-and you are going to be happy for him when he steps onto that podium because like I said, that’s what teammates do.”
He hangs his head, “Fine.”
“Glad we agree on that,” you tell him, lowering your hand. When you do you catch a glimpse of the same movement being shown on the screen that’s on your right and it’s then you realise there’s a camera crew standing just outside of the garage, who have no doubt filmed your entire argument. Perfect.
Just perfect.
XXX
Max can’t help but smile when the clip ends and simply shrugs in response.
“It’s not often we have seen you in that position, Max,” Simon nods towards the screen where there’s now a still of them in the paddock being shown, with her pointing her finger at him and him hanging his head. “-backing off like that.”
“She had a valid point,” Max simply says as if that explains it all. Then again, it does. He knows he has a name of sorts within the sport and even outside of it, knows people don’t expect him to back away from a fight or to admit defeat, but not with her. Never with her. Mostly because he respects her too much but also because she’s almost always right. He’s not ready to admit that out loud for the world to hear just yet though. He has a reputation to uphold after all. And so instead he says, “And she doesn’t back down as easily as some people do.”
Simon smiles and throws him a wink, “Is it safe to say it’s a bit like the Dutch directness you are so well known for?”
Max shrugs, but grins anyway, “Maybe.”
“She isn’t Dutch though, is she?”
“No,” Max chuckles, “but she’s been around my family long enough to have picked up some of it. I mean, she’s much more direct than I am, that’s for sure.”
“Is she now?”
“Yeah. Like I said, she isn’t afraid to call me out on my bullshit.” He’s not sure how they ended up here, he thinks, talking about his relationship with her, but he decides right then and there that he likes it. He likes that for once he doesn’t get asked about GP, or even Brad, and gets to talk about her instead. Not only because she’s been such an important part of his life for so long already but also because he feels like after five years she deserves some time in the spotlight.
And if he’s honest, really honest, he likes talking about her because, well, he likes her.
It isn't some lightbulb moment he's experiencing here in this makeshift studio in a hotel room in Abu Dhabi, it isn't like he's struck by lightning and all of a sudden he realises he's head over heels with her. No. If anything, he thinks, it’s been a long time coming because for the past five years they have been as close as two people can be, without being that.
They never talked about it, never discussed the what if-scenarios, never even let that be a possibility but he thinks that maybe it’s time they should. Or at least, he should because he’s not even sure she feels the same way. God, what if she doesn’t and-
“So it’s safe to say she’s part of that group of people you trust to have your best interest at heart?” Simon’s voice interrupts his thoughts.
“Absolutely,” Max agrees without a moment’s doubt because if there's one thing he never ever doubts, it's that. “We wouldn’t still be working together if I didn’t believe that.”
“You trust her blindly?” Simon asks, leaning forward in his seat a little which Max knows is a tactic to get him to open up even more.
Still, he doesn’t hesitate, “I do. Yes.”
Simon frowns, “Even when it comes to racing?”
“To a certain level, yes. Of course.”
“Really?” Simon sounds surprised.
“Yes. Really,” Max deadpans in such a way that he hopes conveys just how much of a stupid question he thinks this is. Especially for Simon, who’s always been so supportive during interviews. “She’s been connected to the sport just as long as I have. I mean, you could argue that she isn’t a driver but growing up with her Dad being a race engineer. Being around the paddock-” he shrugs, “She’s not stupid, you know? She knows how things work, knows how the car works just as well as I do, knows how tyre management works, I mean-”
“Ok,” Simon holds up his hands in defence and leans back “So you really weren’t kidding when you said she’s more than a personal assistant?”
“No.” Max shakes his head. “I really wasn’t.”
“You think she feels the same way?” Simon points at the screen then, “Before you answer that, let me show you this.”
XXX
Silverstone, July 2021
“Ok,” Christian says as he runs a hand over his face before he returns it to its original position on his hip. “Ok. I need you to go out there and talk to the press. Tell them what we know so they won’t harass us once he’s back from the hospital. Sky for sure, Ziggo as well, and maybe Sky Germany? You speak German, right?”
“Uh-” you stutter, “a little, yeah.”
“Good,” Christian says in a way that tells you there’s no protesting this and effectively dismissing you.
You look around the garage for someone who might help you convince Christian this isn’t a good idea but only find Helmut Marko nodding at you encouragingly and so the attempt is futile. With a heavy sigh you turn around and make your way down the paddock to where the press area is, trying to calm your nerves as much as possible by taking a few deep breaths.
When you get there you see Jack Plooij has just finished his interview with Lando Norris, who’s moving down the line to Nathalie Pinkham from Sky Sports, and when you don’t see anyone else lining up you decide to take your chance and walk towards the Dutch journalist.
He furrows his brows when he sees you approaching him, a worried look passing over his features then, “Everything alright?”
His mic is lowered, which tells you he isn’t recording this, and you give him a weak smile, “Yeah, I just came to give you an update on Max.”
“On camera?”
“Yep,” you nod, another deep breath because holy shit this is terrifying.
“You ok?” He looks worried, probably understanding how scary this is for you, “If you want I can just take your statement and then relay it on camera for you?”
“No, that’s ok,” you try your hardest to smile. “Christian wants me to be the one to give the update.”
“Ok.” Jack taps his cameraman on the arm to let him know he can start rolling and holds up his microphone, introducing you to the viewers before he says, “Now, this is a bit of an usual sight, because normally Max is in front of the camera and you are standing next to him to make sure he doesn’t say any bad words-” you can’t help but appreciate the way Jack tries to calm your nerves, “-but you are here with an update on Max, is that right?”
“Yes.” You clear your throat, “We have just heard back from the hospital and luckily everything’s alright. He’s probably going to be very sore tomorrow but the doctor’s gave him the all clear to leave and he should be on his way back here soon.”
“So no injuries?”
“No,” you shake your head and try to remember what Christian told you. “He’s a little dizzy uh- but they made a CT scan of his head because he took on fifty-one G-”
“Oof,” Jack shakes his head. “That’s a lot.”
“Yeah,” you agree, your voice a little unsteady now. It already made you a little emotional when you heard Christian relay the information to you in the garage just minutes earlier, but somehow saying the words out loud makes it even more real and you can feel something tightening in your chest. “The main thing is he’s ok.”
“That was a big impact,” Jack offers, his kind voice matching his smile.
“It was,” you agree, a ragged breath escaping you. “We will let you know once we have more information.”
“Thank you,” Jack says and then taps his cameraman’s arm again just as he lowers his microphone. He reaches out to you and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “You did good.”
“Thank you,” you let out a relieved sigh even though you can feel tears starting to burn in your eyes. Just the idea that you are going to have to do this two more times is a little daunting, but luckily Nathalie is just as kind about it as Jack was.
When you move down the line to Sky Germany you see Daniel Ricciardo line up at Ziggo, throwing you an encouraging wink. You try to smile back at him, the former Red Bull Driver still a good friend of both Max and you. The interview in German is a little more difficult but you think it’s good enough to air and so once you’re done you thank the host and start your trek back to the garage.
You’ve just stepped outside of the press pen when you hear your name being called and when you turn around you see Daniel running towards you, a worried look on his face. When he reaches you he puts his hand on your arm, “You ok?”
You nod but can feel the tears that have been burning in your eyes starting to spill over and so you only manage to croak out an unconvincing, “Yeah.”
Daniel sees right through it, of course he does, and before you know it he's wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him, “He’s gonna be ok, babe.”
“I know,” you mutter against his fireproofs, your hands now around his waist. “It’s just-” you pull back a little so you can look at Daniel, “When I saw him hit the barriers, Dan, and then- It felt like it took forever before he came on the radio, I was- God, I kept thinking-”
“Hey, sssh,” Daniel shakes his head. “Jack told me he’s cleared by the doctors, right?”
You nod, not even trying to wipe away the tears that are rolling down your cheeks.
“So he’s going to be ok,” Daniel says again, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
XXX
Max stares at the screen a little longer than necessary, swallowing hard and trying to keep his emotions in check. He’s seen the footage of her giving those statements, of course he has, because it was all over social media in the days after the race and Christian wouldn’t shut up about how much this would help convince the world Max wasn’t the bad guy the press and everyone else had made him out to be.
It’s not that footage he’s upset about. It’s the second video they showed, the one of her and Daniel, taken from a McLaren Unboxed episode that he hasn’t seen before that makes him feel like he’s been hit by a ton of bricks.
She’s always so stoic, always so poised, her emotions always hidden somewhere deep inside of her, normally not visible to the outside world except for the few people she trusts completely, so for everyone to see her like this- He shakes his head, hoping she won’t be too upset, once again pointing three fingers to the ground.
When he finally takes his eyes off the screen and puts his face back into the neutral expression Red Bull’s PR team has trained him on for so many years, Simon looks at him expectantly, “I think it’s safe to say both of you care a great deal about the other-”
“Yeah,” Max shrugs as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Then again, for him it is, “but I care about anyone in my team. That’s at the base of it all. It wouldn’t work if I didn’t.”
Simon nods, “So you’d say each member of your team is irreplaceable?”
“Well,” Max waves his hand around as if to prove his point, “I don’t know if they’re irreplaceable but-”
“Earlier you said you would quit if GP, your race engineer, ever quits,” Simon reminds him.
“Yes.”
“Would you say the same is true for her? Would you quit if she ever decides to leave the team?”
He’s a little taken aback by the question and so he tries to deflect, “I don’t really think you can compare-”
“Why not?”
What he wants to say is, ‘Because it’s not like I’ve just realised I might be in love with GP, now have I?’, but years and years of media training once again kick in and so he shrugs instead, a tight smile plastered on his face, “I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”
Simon smiles back at him, no doubt trying to get the interview back on track, “I hope it’s a long time before you have to, Max.” He nods towards the screen again, “I have one last clip to show you, let’s take a look.”
XXX
Abu Dhabi, December 2021
The tension in the air is almost palpable, Max’ pit crew huddled around the screen, watching the last lap of the race while cheering him on from inside the garage. Once Max has made it through turn fourteen, still ahead of Lewis, they all burst out in cheers and rush towards the pitwall. One of them grabs your hand and drags you along with them, so you can cheer Max on as he crosses the finish line.
There’s fireworks then and loud cheers coming from the grandstands and all of a suddden Max is the new world champion!
You stumble backwards a bit, hands clasped together in front of your mouth because you can’t quite believe it. Max, your Max, is world champion. Amidst the chaos you see GP walking towards you, tears glistening in his eyes, and it’s at that moment you realise you’re crying too, but you don’t care. Instead you jump into GP’s arms, “He did it!”
“Oh my God,” GP yells back, spinning you around. “I can’t believe it!” When he puts you back down again he nods towards where a few of the guys are making their way on the track, “Go! I’m sure he wants to see you.”
“Are you coming?”
GP shakes his head, “I’ll wait for him here.”
Before you have time to try and convince him otherwise someone has already grabbed your hand and is pulling you towards the barriers where he hands you off to a second guy, who helps you climb on and over the concrete and onto the track. There’s a cluster of men, all jumping and screaming, and you can’t help but smile because the happiness they exude is absolutely contagious.
It’s then you hear the roar of an F1 car coming your way and you watch Max as he parks his car just in front of the finish line, still a good ways away from where you are standing, and climbs out. When you see him kneel beside his car you feel more tears coming to your eyes and by the time Max has gotten up again and is running towards you, you are crying for real.
He finds his dad first, hugging him tight before he lets go and disappears into the arms of his pit crew, who huddle around him and hoist him onto their shoulders almost immediately, a roar erupting around Max as he waves to the crowd.
You keep to the side a little but his eyes find yours anyway and even though he’s still wearing his helmet you can tell from the way the corners of his eyes crinkle he is smiling widely. When, after a while, the guys put him down again he doesn’t hesitate and walks straight towards you. Without thinking you reach out and put your hands on either side of his helmet, letting your head rest against his visor, “You did it, Max.”
XXX
Max can’t help but smile when the clip ends, the celebrations with his team, with her, still fresh on his mind. He looks at Simon, “That was a good day.”
“I’m sure it was,” Simon agrees with a smile. “And looking at that, I don’t think you have to worry about anyone on your team leaving any time soon.”
Max chuckles, “I hope so.”
“Well Max, with that we’ve come to the end of this interview,” Simon says, tucking away his flashcards, “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to chat with us today. Back to post-season testing for you then?”
Max shakes his head, “I finished that this afternoon. It’s Checo’s turn tomorrow.”
“So what are your plans? Did you even have time to enjoy the win? I know you’ve been very busy these past few days.”
“Yeah,” Max grins, “of course we celebrated with the team Sunday night but it was all still such a daze. It was unreal. I think when I get home later this week and get to celebrate with my friends and family it will finally sink in, you know?”
“Maybe a little vacation afterwards?”
Max nods, “Oh, definitely.”
“You’ve deserved it, that’s for sure.” The host stands up and offers Max his hand, “Thank you once again, I for one can’t wait to see what next year brings.”
Max shakes his hand, “Same here.”
Someone tells them that’s a wrap then and when the studio lights are turned off he finds her easily enough, standing a little to the side and looking at him with that warm smile that only ever seems to be reserved for him and it takes everything he has not to run up to her and kiss her.
Simon tries to make some smalltalk that he is not particularly interested in and so he points two fingers to the floor, not surprised to immediately see her walk towards him out of the corner of his eye.
“Max?" There's an urgency to her voice that Max knows Simon picks up on from the way the older man turns towards her with his eyebrows raised. She gives him a tight smile, “I’m sorry, but we need to go.”
Max shrugs apologetically, “I’m sorry, Simon. You’ve heard her.”
Before Simon has a chance to say anything she’s already put her hand on Max’ back, guiding him towards the door. Her fingers only ghost over the fabric of his shirt but still he thinks can feel the heat radiating from them and it makes him even more determined to have that talk with her. She drops her hand when they reach the corridor and they walk back to the elevator bay in silence, with him a little too lost in his own thoughts to notice the way she’s biting her lip.
When they step inside the elevator he turns towards her, “We don’t have anything planned for tonight, right?”
She shakes her head and clears her throat, “Nope. Unless you want to join the crew for dinner, although-” she looks at her watch, “-you’d have to hurry to make dessert.” She pulls up his schedule on the iPad, “Checo starts testing at nine tomorrow, do you want to go down to the track as well or?”
“I’ll go there before we start debriefing,” he says, looking forward to maybe sleeping in a little tomorrow. It’s been a while after all.
The elevator dings then, letting them know they’ve reached their floor, and so he waits for her to pass him before he follows her down the corridor. He knows he should probably say something, knows he should probably tell her how he feels, but fuck, it’s hard. Maybe he should ask her out to dinner because he can’t just blurt it out here, right? Jesus, what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if he risks twenty-four years of friendship just because he’s decided he’s in love with her? What if-
“Max?”
Her voice interrupts his thoughts and he realises just in time that they’ve reached her room and so he can only barely avoid bumping into her, “Yeah?”
She takes a deep breath and bites her lip again, which tells him this is important and so he locks eyes with her, nodding once to let her know she’s got his full attention. She looks down at her feet then, “Did you mean what you said? In the interview?”
“I said a lot in the interview,” he gently reminds her, even though he likes to think he knows what she’s getting at. And God, does he hope he’s right.
Another deep breath before she looks back up at him again, “When you said that I’m more than just your personal assistant?”
“You are,” he admits easily enough, even though he has no idea if they’re even on the same page. Still, he’s willing to take the risk. Because if not now, then when?
“In what-” She bites her lip again, hesitating for just a second before she closes her eyes and says, “In what way?”
He reaches out without thinking, his hand cupping her face, his heart skipping a beat when he feels her lean into his touch and so he whispers, “Open your eyes for me.” When she does he gives her his best mischievous grin, hoping it will convince her that he isn’t just as scared about this as she is and that this has been his plan all along even though he is absolutely freaking out right now. He drops his gaze to her mouth just long enough to let her know what he’s about to do before he tells her, “Let me kiss you and I’ll show you.”
She nods.
“I’m going to need to hear you say it,” Max says, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb caressing her cheek.
“Kiss me.”
It’s all he needs and so he dips his head, closing his eyes as he lets his lips brush against hers, smiling when she chases his mouth with hers. He kisses her then, really kisses her, both his hands cupping her face now so he can deepen their kiss even more.
She sighs against his mouth, her lips parting ever so slightly and he takes his chance and lets his tongue run over her lower lip. Instead of opening her mouth to let him in she pulls back, letting her forehead rest against his as she tries to catch her breath. “Wow,” she breathes and when he opens his eyes he sees she’s smiling that same smile from earlier.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She rests her free hand against his chest, “Come inside with me?”
He nods but lets out a frustrated groan when she lets go of him so she can take her keycard out of her back pocket. Once she’s unlocked the door she reaches behind her and he effortlessly slips his hand into hers and he can’t help but wonder how something so new can feel so familiar. Her trusted iPad gets discarded on the side table before she gently tugs on his hand to make him follow her inside. Using his foot he closes the door and then they’re in her room. Alone. Together.
He lets go of her hand, “You sure about this?”
“Very,” she says as she turns around and smiles up at him.
“There’s no going back,” he reminds her even though he’s not sure why because this is definitely not the time to self-sabotage.
She nods, “I know.”
He cups her face again, “Good. Because I wouldn’t want this to-”
“Max,” she warns him, although there’s a mischievous look in her eyes, “shut up and kiss me.”