Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Well, I suppose our first question will be for you, Kit.” Her stomach twisted in excitement and nerves as she nodded, trying to hide the smile that began to form on her face. Her knee bobbed up and down under the press conference table, and she heard Max scoff almost inaudibly from beside her. Dick. 

“Obviously you would be quite excited for this opportunity with RedBull, how did you first react when you heard the news and what are your goals for the rest of the season?” All eyes in the room were on her, which would obviously have been the same at Torro Rosso after being asked a press conference question, but it felt more intense now. More pointed. Not intense enough to dim the smile she let free, but still daunting. 

“Yeah, I’m incredibly excited, I think when I first found out I said some choice words that can’t be repeated and then called my mum.” Kit grinned as she heard small chuckles from the other drivers except for Max. “And I just want to try and drive the best I’ve ever driven. Obviously it’s a new car, I’ve only driven it a few times, but at the end of the day it’s also the best car I’ve ever driven and I want to use this opportunity to the best of my ability.”

“And now to Max, how are you feeling coming into this weekend with a new teammate, and was the news as surprising for you?” Max shuffled around in his seat before answering. 

“Well, I found out before Kit, just after Hungary, so it wasn’t really a surprise for me, no. And I’m feeling good about this weekend, even though the track here is probably not really suited to us I think we can still do well.” The deadpan yet slightly smug tone of his voice as he said her move to RedBull ‘wasn’t surprising’ made Kit’s smile dim and the feeling of resentment simmer in her stomach, but she couldn’t let it be too obvious that she found her teammate insufferable. Not this early on anyway. 

“You could at least try and look like you can tolerate me.” Kit said under her breath as Checo answered a question about his contract at Racing Point. 

“Waste of energy.” Max muttered back. God, she just wanted to smash his face against the table. She couldn’t wait until she was out of this room and back to her hotel. It was an unusually hot day in Spa, and the shorts she was wearing weren’t enough to cool her skin, she needed to be submerged in crystal clear pool water.

“Kit?” One of the journalists said expectantly. 

“Hmm? Sorry, could you repeat the question?” Kit said good-naturedly, annoyed at herself for letting Max Verstappen distract her.

“You made your debut last year and are arguably the first successful female Formula 1 driver ever, do you think that this promotion to RedBull is a step in the right direction for women in the sport?” 

“Definitely, I mean, I don’t wanna get too ahead of myself, ‘cause I haven’t even finished one race with RedBull yet, but I think that, I mean hopefully, this shows that I’m not some kind of one year fad in this sport and that this female presence is a permanent one.” Over the past year and a half, Kit had become an expert at phrasing her feminist answers just lowkey enough to not lose support of her predominantly male fane base. She played with the friendship bracelet she was wearing (that she’d made for herself, by the way) as the others answered the remaining questions, fielding a couple of her own about strategy and race pace, and then they were finally released from the room that was growing stuffier by the minute.

Max stood up an unmic-ed himself with speed that would’ve been impressive if it didn’t exude the arrogance that made Kit’s blood boil under her skin. She hated that she hated him so much. Usually, she was an incredibly unbothered person. Obviously she got annoyed and angry and sad, but she never struggled to regulate her emotions, especially not in public. When it came to Max, she just wanted to fulfill every emotional-woman stereotype and scream at him until her eyes bulged out. 

His grating personality never bothered her before joining Torro Rosso at the beginning of the year. Her rookie season the previous year with Sauber didn’t make their paths cross overly often, typically only when Daniel wanted to talk to his fellow Aussie on the grid, and so she never got to feel the full extent of his cocky, careless attitude. Well, until their first Torro Rosso/RedBull meeting at the beginning of the year. It was in Australia just before race 1, and Kit was beaming even more than usual due to being home. Daniil and her seemed to be getting along just fine, and Pierre was already charming her with his French accent and blond hair. And then there was Max. She could practically relive their first extended interaction word for word. 

“Hey Max.” Kit said, sitting down beside him at the long meeting table. They were the first there, and Kit cringed as her Australian accent, stronger and more harsh than usual from spending some time at home, rebounded off the walls. Max barely let out a grunt in response, texting a contact she couldn’t make out in Dutch. Kit figured he was just having a bad day, or maybe they were talking about something serious. Not wanting to pry, she took out her phone to respond to some messages as well. 

“You don’t have to try and look busy.” He said from beside her. She moved around to face him but saw that he hadn’t looked up from his phone.

“I’m not-I mean, you could’ve just said hi back in the first place.” Usually Kit wouldn’t be so antagonistic, but something about his smug little face and his arrogant Dutch accent made her feel riled up already. And yet, he just continued to stare at his phone. Dick. 

“Sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” He said stonily. “You’re gonna need thicker skin than that if you want to have a career.” And with that, their collective bosses entered the room and Max locked his phone, still not looking over at her once.

She had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt a few times after that, but to no avail. There was not a single human on the planet who could be so consistently sick, tired, or in a bad mood. No, he was just a douche. And yet, she was the only driver who he seriously seemed to detest. Sure, he had a certain anger management problem that unleashed itself on any driver he deemed crossing a boundary, but he wasn’t this consistent with anyone else. Even Esteban, who went through an extended period of sidestepping Max in the paddock didn’t seem to mind him off the track, and Max was fairly civil to him now.

Following him out of the press conference room and into the sun, Kit felt her fists clench subconsciously as he slid his sunglasses on. Did every other driver, including her, do the same? Yes. Was it irritating when Max did it? Of course. 

“Ayy, Kit, how are you mate?” Charles said from behind her. They’d raced together at Sauber the year before, and it was nice seeing them both in the uniforms of better teams this year. 

“I’m good, I’m fucking shitting my pants for this race though. How about you?” She said, grin on her face as usual. 

“I’m great, I gotta go but good luck for Saturday if I don’t see you before then.” Turning around, Kit saw that Max was nearly halfway down the paddock already and talking to Daniel, even though their next media activity was together. 

“Hey Danny.” Kit said as she approached the pair, pointedly saying nothing to Max. 

“Hey Kit Kat, come to collect your boy?” Daniel replied, nodding towards Max. He knew that the pair had a tense relationship and, being on good terms with both of them, exasperated this constantly. 

“Sure.” Kit panned, looking at Max’s now emotionless face.

“Yeah, we should be going mate. See you round.” Max said, not acknowledging Kit at all. 

“See you two. And try to tone down the love.” Daniel laughed, although his audience wasn’t quite as well-humoured. The pair walked to the pit lane in near silence, stopping before a Sky Sports F1 TV crew and a Honda sports car. God, this was already looking bad. 

“Hello you two! Ready for a bit of fun?” Johnny Herbert, one of the Sky presenters said as the pair approached the car. 

“Of course.” Kit said cheerfully, while Max just smiled stiffly. He couldn’t make it easy for anyone, could he. 

“Alright, well basically we’re just gonna be filming a little video that’ll go on Youtube and play before the race on telly and that, so nothing serious. You’ll each have two laps around the ring, and obviously we want you to drive safely, but the challenge of the video is to try not to say anything as the other person drives so, you know, you’ll have to do a bit of dodgy stuff.” Johnny chuckled to himself. Kit was internally groaning but kept a smile on her face. These sorts of videos were ones they made teammates do to show off their friendship. A friendship that F1 fans would soon realise didn’t exist between Max and herself. She’d seen a few posts on Instagram with very grainy pictures or poorly edited together videos that captured rare moments of interaction between the pair over the past year and a half that seemed to indicate that they would have a good relationship as teammates, but to be honest half of them were just when Daniel, their intermediary, was also there. 

As they were getting their mics put on, Kit tried to ignore the feeling of the very attractive sound guy’s hands on her bare lower back as he threaded the clip on mic pack down the back of her shirt. It had been a dry few months in Kit’s bedroom, that was for sure. People thought that being the only female driver would make her life dick-city, but so far the only dick she had in her life was in the shape of Max Verstappen. 

“You wanna go first or me?” Max asked as he put on his helmet, t-shirt hem rising up at the bottom as he did so. 

“You can, we wouldn’t want you to have to vomit in between turns.” Kit said, smiling. Max just rolled his eyes and took the keys from Johnny Herbert. There was one camera in the car, and it was only a go-pro set up on Kit’s side of the car. She made a note of pointedly pressing her lips together as Max also entered the car, and did her seatbelt up with a warning look in her eyes. If Max wasn’t going to provide any content and force them into more friendship bonding activities, then Kit would just have to carry the show. 

Max strapped himself in, put the keys in the ignition and revved the car a few times before lurching forward and then breaking again suddenly. Kit opened her mouth to let out a truly Aussie “Fuck” but contained herself, her competitive side coming out even in this trivial game. Max, after noticing one hand clutching her seatbelt and the other the denim fabric of her shorts, sped off in the sports car. At each corner he would either leave the braking late and turn essentially 90° around it, causing Kit’s entire body to be flung to one side, or wiggle side to side through it so that Kit’s stomach started to churn. He took nearly every curb and pretended to lose grip a few times, but Kit still managed to keep quiet, at one point biting the sides of her thumb to calm her nerves. Then, at the last minute down the final straight, Max slowed fractionally and then turned the wheel into a hard lock, spinning donuts on the asphalt. “Fuck Max!” Kit yelled, then rolled her eyes as she realised she’d lost. She still didn’t loosen her grip until the car was completely stationary and in park. 

“That was sorta fun.” Max said with a small smile poking at the corners of his mouth, and Kit just rolled her eyes again. They swapped spots and her stomach clenched with irritation as she watched Max tap his thighs nonchalantly. She’d been spending the marginally more tranquil moments of the lap planning out her strategy, and all she wanted was to hear Max swear.

She pulled down the shift in the centre console, but instead of putting the car in gear she continued down into reverse. As Max was still looking around trying to play it cool, he didn’t notice her trick, and so when Kit slammed down the accelerator and his body jolted forwards at the oppositional momentum, his natural response was to say, “What the fuck!” and Kit smiled in satisfaction. Swinging the car around, Kit then proceeded to drive the whole track in the opposite direction to how they raced it normally, trying to throw Max off his rhythm. There was only one more time where she managed to make him sweat, at turn 3 when the car wiggled around taking the sharp corner as if she was losing traction. He didn’t swear, but his hand shot out to grab her upper arm in panic, also as if to say what the ‘fuck are you doing’. He quickly let go when the car regained stability, but Kit still enjoyed the fact that she’d made him freaked out.

“How’d we go kids?” Johnny asked as they exited the car, safely back in the pit lane. 

“I’m not sure how entertaining we were, but I tried my best.” Kit smiled as she removed her helmet. 

“Don’t worry, we can just show the overhead shot if neither of you are doing anything interesting. I think we’re all done then, if you wanna head off, I know you’re both busy bees.” Johnny finished off, both shaking his hand and Max muttering a few syllables before the pair left. 

They again walked back to the motorhome in silence, neither speaking until they were halfway down the hallway to their driver rooms. 

“I made you sweat.” Kit said smugly. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Max rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have to when you do it for free.” Kit continued, now fully smiling. Max didn’t say anymore and just closed the door behind him into his driver room coldly. A replay of the last race, the Hungarian GP, played on the small TV and Kit’s stomach dropped for the millionth time that day. She had momentarily forgotten that the next day would be her first official session as a RedBull racing driver, and she was now, once again, shitting herself. 

The weekend, despite Kit’s biggest fears, had actually gone surprisingly well. It was Sunday afternoon, and Kit was still basking in the near-glory of her 4th place finish as she showered in her driver room, taking a few moments to think before the debrief. It would be long due to Max’s DNF, and she was already exhausted. Her body, now that it had proved itself to be up to the challenge of a properly competitive car, was nearly melting into the lino floor. After only qualifying 7th, the finish felt like a win to her. Still, she wouldn’t forget the radio message she received after only 1 lap: “Max’s out, I repeat Max is out, so we can really focus on your race here.” 

She had sort of seen his collision with Kimi from down in 7th, but it wasn’t until seeing the replay that she could really tell it was his fault. Around turn 1, he attempted to go for a gap between Kimi and the wall that just simply didn’t exist, shunting Kimi up off the ground and ruining his own race in the meantime. Obviously in her interviews she just said it was unfortunate and she was happy to have made up a few points for the team, but internally she was just shaking her head at him. What an idiot. 

But that wasn’t what annoyed her. She honestly couldn’t care less whether or not Max scored points for the team. What really ticked her off was the fact that her engineer didn’t even try and pretend that she wasn’t the number 2 driver. ‘We can really focus on your race here’ my ass, Kit thought to herself. She wouldn’t bring it up in the debrief, because she enjoyed having a job, but it would just add to the ever growing list of things that pissed her off about Max.

Shutting off the hot water, Kit towel dried her hair and slipped on a pair of trackie shorts alongside her team polo, needing to be comfortable for the meeting that would undoubtedly last until the sun went down. 

And last that long it did. From a pit stop that would’ve gotten her a podium if it was one lap later to the alternative tyre choices that would’ve let her close the gap on Bottas and attempt an earlier overtake, the whole ordeal felt like flipping back through a choose-your-own-adventure-book to try and get to the ending you know you want. After an already slow 45 minutes of detailed dissection of every single thing Kit had done wrong, they moved onto a strategy discussion for the following race in Italy, most of which sounded like ‘get Max onto the podium’ in Kit’s ears.Then follow that with a Max whinge session about biased stewards and stupid drivers, and you have a Kit who was tired and pissed off and ready for bed. 

“Alright guys, good work today. It was the best result we could get given the circumstances and hopefully we can put all this shit into action at Monza.” Christian said, effectively dismissing the team from the cramped engineering room. Max and Kit had exchanged a few words with their respective engineers before bidding everyone a goodnight, them having arguably the easiest job of anyone in that room apart from Christian. 

“Have a good night, Max.” Kit said in a flat tone as they walked towards their separate cars, some of the last to leave the paddock. She hated his guts, but she couldn't will herself to just say absolutely nothing to him. It wasn’t natural.

“Mm, not likely.” He half grunted. Kit rolled her eyes, clearly not far enough away from him to be out of sight. “What? What was that for? I fucking smashed into a wall today, you really think that I should be happy?” He semi-snapped. His voice was clearly tired, but there was enough fire in it to stir some energy in Kit.

“I saw the video of your collision Max, and it was clearly your fault. You can’t expect people to move out of the way for you just because your front wing is ferreting up their ass.” She didn’t yell, because the car park was eerily quiet, but there was an intensity in her voice that was sourced from bottling up her emotions for too long and from real irritation at the man standing in front of her. 

“Fuck me man, I thought you were my teammate, not my boss.” He scoffed.

“Well sorry if I want a bit of appreciation for coming 4th in my first fucking race with this team. I beat out a goddamn Ferrari, okay, a good job from someone other than my race engineer would be nice.” Kit said, hoping that the waver in her voice went unnoticed by Max. 

“Not all of us think 4th place is good.” Max said coldly before opening his car door and driving off shortly after. Kit didn’t let herself think about the day until she got back to her hotel room, where she proceeded to drink a bottle of wine and watch her home NRL team get absolutely thrashed. What a day. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, the airport was quiet in the early hours of the morning. The team was travelling from Spa to Monza all together due to the tight turn around. At Torro Rosso or Sauber Kit wouldn’t have minded the collective travel. In fact, it was nice to be herded around by managers and assistants rather than have to have responsibility for where she needed to be and when. With Max, however, the day was already shaping up to be a disaster. He hadn’t changed expressions from his typical neutrally annoyed mask the entire time they’d been there, only looking up from his phone when heading through security and then customs. 

“Hi, sorry, are you Max Verstappen?” A bright but nervous looking woman of about 40 said, approaching Max from his shoulder. Him and Kit were standing essentially out in the open as a RedBull intern was arguing their case for first class tickets. Neither of them really cared, but Christian Horner would rather walk to Italy before sitting in economy. 

“Yep.” Max replied, looking unimpressed. He slipped his phone into his back pocket and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Oh, great, my sons are over there and they pointed you out. Would you be able to take a photo with them?” The woman asked, pointing to a group of three small boys (one of which was actually wearing a RedBull top), all huddled together on a seat in the nearby gate. At the sight of Max and their mother’s gaze, they huddled even further together out of embarrassment. “They didn’t want me to come over, they think it’s embarrassing.” The woman joked, but Max's expression remained unchanged. 

“It’s fine.” He said, barely above a grunt. The woman looked slightly put off by his attitude, but waved over her sons anyway, trying to keep a positive attitude for their sake. The three boys lined up tentatively in front of Max, his hands coming down to rest on two of their shoulders. His mouth barely quirked into a smile, and it made Kit squirm with annoyance. They were kids, for fuck’s sakes. She was tired too, but you had best believed that she would’ve at least cracked a grin. 

As their mother began to lower her phone, the smallest child donning the RedBull jersey began to whine. 

“Mama, ich will auch ein Foto mit Kit!” Kit had noticed the mother speaking with an accent, but the small child speaking German still caught her off guard. 

“Kit?” The woman said confusedly. 

“He wants a photo with you.” Max said, making eye contact with Kit. She was instantly jealous of his European-ness, being able to understand a third language (after Dutch and English) so easily. 

“Oh okay, of course.” The mother looked confused as Kit took Max’s place, clearly not sure who she was. The two older boys didn’t look nearly as excited to be taking a photo with her, but the small boy in the middle was basically vibrating with excitement. It made her heart warm a bit, even if she wasn’t as popular as Max. After the mother lowered her phone once again, the two older boys said a quiet, heavily accented thank you to Max before retreating sheepishly back to their bags. The youngest just turned around and looked up at Kit in adoration. He couldn’t have been older than 4 or 5, and Kit had never wished to be able to speak German so badly. 

“Max, could you translate for me?” Kit asked, ignoring the disgruntled look on his face for the sake of her little fan. She crouched down to his eye level and gave him a bright smile. 

“Can you ask him his name?” Max sighed but complied. 

“Leon.” The little boy said quietly.

“Would you like a present, Leon?” Kit said, reaching over to her backpack to retrieve the notebook she knew was in there. Max translated, and the boy nodded his head quickly. Kit noticed his mother taking more photos of them out of the corner of her eye, and tried to write a small note to the boy as quickly as possible so that he wouldn’t get impatient. 

Dear Leon, 

Always try hard to achieve your dreams

Be nice to your mother and father and your brothers

Remember me when you’re a formula 1 world champion too ;)

Good luck, 

Kit Kelly

She signed her autograph next to the bottom of the letter before folding it up and placing it in his small outstretched hand. “If you ask your mum very nicely she’ll translate it for you.” Kit grinned, hoping that he would probably be able to understand it by himself once he’s older. Max translated once again, clearly getting antsy as his syllables came out short and sharp. Kit tried to smile wider to offset her teammate’s negativity, and hugged the little boy back when he wrapped his arms around her neck. 

“Oh, gosh, sorry about him. Leo, Leo.” The mother said, laughing nervously at the sight of her son hugging a complete stranger.

“Oh no, it’s fine, he’s just excited.” Kit laughed in return, giving the boy a little pat on the back as she noticed his mother was looking back at her other two kids.

“Thank you so much, both of you.” The mother said, taking her son’s hand and rejoining the other boys. Leon waved at Kit and Max all the way back to his seat, Kit waving back until he had found something more interesting to focus on. Max was already looking at the intern with irritation, his fingers tapping on his suitcase handle impatiently. Christian was returning to their stack of bags with a tray of coffees accompanied by a few other engineers, but Kit still couldn’t resist giving Max a piece of her mind. Something about him just pissed her off so thoroughly.

“You didn’t have to be so rude, he was just a kid.” Kit said as she tucked her notebook into her back pocket. 

“I wasn’t rude. Just because I didn’t write him a letter and give him a cuddle. He’s not the first person to ask me for a photo, you know.” He looked at her with the same deadpan expression on his face.

“God, you really do think you’re top shit, don’t you?” Kit asked. He looked ready to spit something equally as snarky back, but the rest of the team returned and he kept his mouth shut. They still needed to appear to tolerate each other in front of their boss. 

“There you go Kit, Max.” Christian said, handing them over their coffees. “How did we go with the seats?” He asked the intern, code for ‘which row of first class did we get?’. 

“They’ve upgraded us to first class.” The intern said with a nervous smile, clearly happy with herself as Christian gave her an appreciative clap on the shoulder. The party set off to their first class lounge, which Kit knew was so overly exorbitant for an inter-European flight and yet she couldn’t help but enjoy the lavish life she could now lead. Their flight didn’t depart for another half an hour, and given their early wake up that morning to travel into Brussels, Kit took the opportunity to slump down in the bougie armchair and close her eyes. She didn’t think she’d actually fall asleep, because she typically couldn’t fall asleep in public, but the armchair felt like a cloud under her back and she was just sinking down into it, deeper and deeper. 

It only felt like a few seconds later that she felt something touch her foot, and she jolted awake out of shock. Standing above her, Max had a ghost of a smile on his face after seeing her shocked face. 

“Come on treuzelaar, everyone’s waiting for you.” Max said. She hated to think what word he’d called her in Dutch.

There were maybe 6.9 billion people she would’ve preferred to sit next to over Max, but it happened that the order they walked in on the plane put them side by side and again, Kit didn’t want to make it so obvious that she couldn’t stand her teammate of not even a week. As they entered the plane, Kit’s gaze caught on a very good looking man sitting in the front row. He was sitting next to an older man, so clearly he was a rich daddy’s boy, but that didn’t stop his jaw line and bobbing Adam’s apple from making something stir in Kit’s stomach. He looked up from his phone and met her gaze, shooting her a shy smile before she looked away in embarrassment. Looking forward again, she saw Max already seated by the window, giving her an amused look. 

“You really don’t get any, do you?” Max said. He looked to be in the best spirits she’d seen since Friday practice. 

“Huh?” Kit grunted, sitting down and slipping off her tennis shoes. She liked to ride in comfort. 

“You basically were drooling over that guy, and you weren’t subtle at all. When was the last time you, you know.” Max said suggestively, nearly smiling at Kit’s annoyed expression.

“That’s not really any of your business.” She said in a huff. The truth was too depressing. She hadn’t had a boyfriend since she was 16, 5 years ago, and being a 16 year old boy he didn’t exactly fulfil her needs. Since then, she’d hardly been out on a date, and her one night stands were few and far between. The last time she had sex was over the winter off season when she’d gone back home to Australia and met a guy at a club in the Cross, and the next morning she snuck out with her bra still lost in his bedroom and no shoes on, because that’s how much of a douche he was. So no, she didn’t really get any. 

“I mean, it’s not surprising, a guy would have to be seriously desperate to do anything with you.” Max said. He only half sounded like he was joking. 

“Oh yeah, and you’re just drowning in it are you?” Kit replied. She shuffled through her bag to find her book, needing some distraction from the man next to her. 

“Well, I mean, not to brag, but it’s not exactly quiet in my apartment on my weekends off.” Max said, flinching away as Kit reached out a hand to slap him on the arm. 

“Good for you Max, that’s really good for you.” Kit said sourly, opening her book with a snap. He didn’t reply, and she saw out of the corner of her eye that he already put his headphones in. She sat back in her seat to get comfortable, but felt something poke into her bum. Reaching behind, she felt her notebook still in her back pocket and fished it out, placing it in her lap. Despite the distance between them in their first class seats, Kit could still hear Max tapping on the armrest. God, he was annoying. 

Needing some way to vent, Kit got a pen back out of her bag and wrote a title in her notebook: things i can’t stand about max . She looked over at the man in question and saw him looking out the window, so she was safe to express her emotions. It was incredibly childish, and she knew that, but there was a reason people had diaries to express themselves. No one else would ever have to see it. 

• Taps on things as if there aren’t other people around him

It definitely wasn’t the most annoying thing about him, but it was the one weaselling into her ears. Just the sound of his endless tapping gave her such inspiration, she began writing in a constant flow, like dominoes falling one after another. She was being slightly repetitive, but hey, she wasn’t trying to get a book deal here.

• Thinks he’s the most important person in the world

• Rude to people for no reason

• Doesn’t show emotion

• Thinks he’s too cool for school

• Refuses to admit when he’s wrong

• Goes on his phone when people are talking to him

• Pretends like he’s not interested in anything

• General dickhead

• Has an annoying face

Okay, now she was just getting pointless. But it was true, he did have an annoying face. She closed her notebook and placed it back in her bag, reclining back to continue her book. The tapping had ceased, and she could finally focus on the page in front of her. And yet she couldn’t get Max’s words out of her head. Obviously it was an unfortunate by-product of the job and double-standards, but she couldn’t exactly be sleeping with a different guy every weekend. Max might just be called a womaniser, but she would be called a slut. On the other hand, her horniness was starting to resemble that of her 16-year-old boyfriend’s, and that was never a position she wanted to be in. 

She opened her phone contacts and scrolled through, looking for a single Italian person to text where it wouldn’t be weird to basically ask them to set her up with someone. As if the stars had aligned above her, Kit received a text notification (because how would Christian be able to go a whole hour and a half without checking his emails?) from a semi-acquaintance, Ajla Tomljanovic. She was an Aussie tennis player that Kit had been briefly introduced to at the Australian Open, but their acquaintanceship really blossomed in the nearby pub after she lost her match and was out of the competition. The text read ‘heard you’ll be in Milan?’

Technically Monza and Milan were two different cities, but they were only separated by 15 minutes of train line, so Kit just texted back with ‘yeahhh 🇮🇹 🍾’. It wasn’t like she was overly missing Ajla, after all, 90% of their relationship had transpired during a 45 minute long run of ABBA greatest hits in a Melbourne night club, but maybe this would lead her to a date of some sort. If not, she could at least ogle some of the male tennis players. 

A few minutes later Ajla responded with ‘we’re hitting the pub tonight, wanna come with?’ Monday and Tuesday were technically her days off, so Kit figured she was in the clear to respond with ‘of course!’. She was instantly in a better mood at the prospect of a night out. Call it her Aussie genetics, but there was nothing like a night of boozing to get her in good spirits. She briefly considered asking Max, because as much as she hated him it was hard to break her usual social tendencies, but looking at him on his phone sparked enough irritation through her that she decided against it. 

The plans were confirmed by Ajla over text, Kit would be meeting their little tennis posse at their hotel at 8pm, and as their most recent tournament had just finished, with the winner as a member of the group, she was expecting the night not to end until the early hours of the morning. Now, all she had to do was figure out what to wear.

Chapter Text

It was 1:27 in the morning according to her phone, and Kit was well and truly smashed. After meeting the tennis players at 8 and being introduced to everyone, Kit had quickly become the centre of attention. She was having drinks handed to her, she was being led onto the dancefloor and then swiftly led off it again, she was showing fascinated tennis players the driver rankings (on which she was embarrassingly low in 8th, but that was more Pierre’s work than her own). She actually felt quite bad for stealing the thunder of the guy who had just won the tournament, Matteo something or other, but she caught a glimpse of him as she was stumbling out of the club for some air and he seemed to be having a decent enough time, Ajla in front of him and a random girl behind as they danced to the thumping bass. 

The night air was cool on her sweaty legs, exposed in the little black dress she’d bought from the airport. 

“Can we stop here for just a second? I have to get something quickly.” Kit said to Christian’s assistant who seemed to be leading the charge as they walked through the Italian airport. 

“Sure, but be quick.” The assistant said. The drivers didn’t have to be anywhere, but Christian always seemed to have too much on his plate to be healthy. Still, Kit didn’t feel that sorry for him. Most of it was press stuff that he chose to do to try and make the RedBull narrative of any incident the widely reported one. And everything was an ‘incident’ to Christian. 

“Yep, sure.” Kit sped inside the store, beelined to the first dress that seemed appropriate for a night out, grabbed it in her size and then shoved it in her backpack after paying. The only person who seemed to care, unfortunately, was Max.

“Where are you going?” He asked as their party took off.

“Out. Dad.” Kit scoffed.

“With who?” He continued, becoming more interrogatory.

“Some tennis players. One of them’s an Aussie chick. Why do you care, anyway?” She asked.

“Just don’t want you to fuck up the race again this week end.” He shrugged. 

“Sorry, again? Who DNFed last week?” Kit said antagonistically. 

“Fuck off. If I had finished, it would’ve been higher than fourth.” He muttered. 

“To come first, first you have to finish.” Kit sang jokingly. 

“Just don’t show up to the team meeting on Wednesday still hungover.” He grunted, and their conversation ended there as they filed into waiting cars. She inwardly cursed him for somehow always getting the last word. 

“What are you thinking about?” A heavily accented Italian voice said from beside her. Kit turned her head sluggishly despite the jump in her heart rate, the alcohol slowing her movements. It was the man who had won the tennis tournament, Matteo.

“My shithead teammate. But what’s new?” Kit laughed, even though she knew that that statement probably meant nothing to him. She had now fully turned to face him so that her whole body weight was supported by her shoulder on the wall. 

“Is that, uh, Max van der thingy?” He asked, and the confusion on his face was endearing. He was actually incredibly attractive, something that hadn’t dawned on her until that point. She’d been downing shots at such ferocity that everything out of her direct eyeline had slipped out of reality. 

“That’s the one. Asshole.” She smiled even as she said this. 

“I understand the feeling.” He said bitterly. 

“But you, uh,” Kit wobbled a bit despite her weight resting on the wall, and Matteo’s arm reached out to steady her. His hand felt warm on her upper arm, and she had to stop her mind from racing too far ahead. Fucking horny bitch. “You, thanks, you don’t have a teammate?” The question took her an embarrassing amount of time to formulate. 

“Yeah, but I hate all of them, so.” Matteo trailed off as he nodded towards the building, a sad smile on his face.

“Hate? You didn’t seem to hate Ajla just then.” Kit giggled to herself.

“Okay, okay,” Matteo laughed, raising his hands in surrender, “Maybe I don’t hate them, that’s the alcohol talking. But I don’t really like them either. And Ajla, she’s nice but, no. I had my eyes closed, didn’t you see?” Kit actually couldn’t remember anything right now except the feeling of his hand on her upper arm, as he’d also turned his body in to face her fully and she could now appreciate the full scale of the man in front of her. Even slouching on the wall he was taller than any of her fellow drivers, and his olive skin and dark brown curls made him look like something out of a gladiator movie. 

“Mm, right, eyes closed.” Kit murmured, her eyes half closed herself. The early morning was starting to catch up to her.

“I was imagining she was you.” He said slyly, and if it was anyone else she would’ve rolled her eyes and told them to get lost. There was just something about his tone, he was toeing the line between totally joking and trying to make a move on her, and it was really hot. She needed a guy that didn’t take himself too seriously. She was surrounded by enough of those everyday. 

“Oh, you’re smooth.” Kit replied, leaning her head back against the wall, turning away again. She needed some air because her stomach wasn’t exactly agreeing with the cocktail of beer and fireball, and the space between her and Matteo was beginning to feel overly hot. 

“Is it working?” He asked, and his voice sounded closer than before. She turned her head, and his body was now only centimetres from hers, his breath just fanning her cheeks as he tilted his face down to look at her.

“Maybe a bit.” She was nearly whispering. His large hand reached up to the side of her face, tucking a piece of hair back behind her ear before lowering his hand to the side of her neck. His thumb moved back and forth over the front of her throat, and god she was turned on. He leaned forward tantalisingly slowly, his eyes darting down to her lips and then back up again. She was practically panting under his touch. His lips brushed hers gently, the faintest contact made, and she was scared to blink in fear of ruining the moment. 

As if breathing out to steady his nerves, a flush of air was released from Matteo’s mouth that just happened to be hovering near Kit’s nose. His breath, while not totally unpleasant, smelt entirely of gin and tonic, and the medicinal, alcoholic smell went straight to her already uneasy stomach. “Hold on, I’m gonna -” was all Kit managed to get out before she was rounding the corner of the bar into a small alley and vomiting straight onto the ground. One of her hands leant against the wall and the other on her knee to steady herself, and she was grateful when she felt Matteo’s hands scoop up her hair out of the line of fire. 

“God, I was that bad, huh?” Matteo said jokingly, and Kit tried to laugh but just ended up retching more. After a few minutes her stomach had settled and she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, the acidic taste of bile still on her tongue. She moved a few steps away from the vomit and leant back against the wall, closing her eyes to avoid having to look at Matteo’s probably revolted expression. 

“That was so disgusting, I’m sorry.” Kit said, the back of her unused hand resting over her eyes. 

“It’s okay, I’ve seen worse.” Matteo laughed, and Kit uncovered her eyes to look at him doubtfully. “Tennis players go wild, especially in Australia. You should know all about that.” He smiled, and Kit just rolled her eyes. 

“As much as I would like to continue our earlier activities, I think I’d better get a taxi.” Kit said reluctantly, Matteo’s brown Roman eyes still shining down at her as if he didn’t just watch her vomit onto a wall in an Italian alleyway. 

“I think that’s probably a good idea.” Matteo said, also seeming sad that their night was cut short. He placed his hand on her lower back to guide her to the side of the road, and she nearly shivered under his touch. He stuck out his arm and a taxi pulled over with a slam on the brakes. The ride home could be unpleasant, Kit thought to herself. 

“I’d like to see you again.” Matteo said as he opened the back seat door for her. Her heart sunk as she remembered that this was technically only a one night thing. 

“I start work again on Wednesday, and then I leave Italy Monday morning.” Kit said with a disappointed tone in her voice.

“Tomorrow night then. It doesn’t have to be as…well, I won’t let you vomit.” Matteo said, smiling gently. “And just us this time.” He tacked onto the end, making sure she caught his drift. 

“I like the sound of that. Here, hang on.” Kit reached into her bra to retrieve her phone (having not brought a suitable clubbing bag to Monza) and unlocked it, giving it to Matteo to put in his number.

“Ho avviato il contatore!” The taxi driver yelled impatiently.

“Dammi un minuto a me e alla bella signora.” Matteo leaned his head into the taxi and replied, which made him appear 100 times hotter in Kit’s eyes. “There.” He said, handing back her phone. He’d put his contact as ‘Matteo Berrettini 🇮🇹🍻🤢’ and sent himself a text message reading ‘ciao bello ;).’ Good, he was funny. Kit smiled at him and wished she could give him a kiss good night, but settled for a squeeze on the hand before she settled into the taxi. 

“Era quel Matteo Berrettini?” Kit didn’t speak Italian, especially not while drunk, but she could vaguely guess the question.

“Si, uh, si.” She settled for in response. 

“È un bravo ragazzo, rende orgoglioso questo paese, dovresti trattarlo bene.” The driver continued, and Kit just nodded her head with absolutely no understanding of what he was saying. She also realised that he had begun driving without her giving him an address, and struggled to ask him where they were going.

“Uh, andiamo? Where adiamo to?” Pathetic.

“You are pilota, no?” The man said. She’d heard French journalists use ‘pilote’ back when she had a lot of interviews with Charles, so she assumed he knew she was a Formula 1 driver.

“Si.” Kit said tentatively. 

“I know where you stay, all of us,” he said, pointing to his taxi driver licence, “we all love Ferrari, we drive all the piloti. Same hotel, every year.” He said, looking pleased with himself for providing such good service. 

“You speak English much better than I speak Italian.” Kit said, searching for some way to make up for the fact that she wasn’t a Ferrari driver.

“Grazie bella, I think that you learn with Matteo, no?” He asked, now grinning ear to ear, looking back at her expression in the rear-view mirror. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not in Italy a lot, I might not see him after tomorrow.” Kit said, finding it only mildly concerning that the person she probably felt most comfortable talking about her love life with was this taxi driver. 

“Matteo, he move from Roma, he live in Monte Carlo now that he is rich and famous. You live there too?” The driver asked.

“Si.” Kit said, even though she was slightly embarrassed to admit it as she noticed the worn hems on the driver’s sleeves and the meagre sum on the metre, despite the fact that they were nearly back at the hotel.

“Good, good, Matteo needs a nice girl like you, take care of him in Monte Carlo.” He continued, and Kit only blushed deeper. 

“We only met tonight.” She clarified, and the driver batted his hand nonchalantly. 

“My wife, I ask her to marry me the day I meet her. At the Beatles in 1965.” He said the year in Italian, but Kit still caught his drift. “I had 19 years, she had only 17. She say yes, we marry, now we are married for 54 years.” He said proudly, giving Kit a knowing look in the mirror as they drove up the circular driveway of the hotel, the lobby empty at this time of the morning. 

“Grazie for the drive.” Kit said, and the driver waved her hands away as she went to get out some cash to pay him. 

“No bella, free, free for you.” The driver said, still grinning ear to ear. Kit looked at the metre,  € 21,35. She pulled four € 50 notes out of her wallet and folded them over so that the driver wouldn’t see. 

“Then this is just a present.” Kit said as she leant forward to give the driver a kiss on the cheek, depositing the notes into one of the front cupholders as she did so. 

“Buona fortuna for Sunday, bella.” The driver said at the sight of the money in his car. “I hope that it will be you in third place, after only the Ferrari.” He said, smiling again. 

“Grazie mille.” She replied, getting out of the car and watching the taxi drive off. She felt her phone buzz and looked down to see a few texts, one from Matteo and two from Max. Opening Matteo’s first, he had just sent a simple ‘I had a good time tonight,’ to which she responded ‘I did too, especially in between the club and my vom 😬.’ She hoped the more she joked about it the less embarrassing it would become. As she entered the elevator and pressed the button for her floor, she then opened Max’s text messages. They were from only 10 minutes ago, which meant that he was awake a lot later than usual. He’d sent a photo, which Kit had to zoom in on to see any details. It was a screenshot of someone’s instagram story, and in it was a very blurry photo of  Matteo and herself standing next to the cab. It was immediately after he had replied to the driver, so his head was tilted up and looking at her smiling face. It was actually quite a cute photo, and she didn’t really mind that she’d been seen. Unlike what the taxi driver seemed to think, there wasn’t anything serious between them. 

Under the photo Max had said ‘i was just joking, jeez 🙄.’ She didn’t reply to him, mainly because she’d reached her hotel room and felt like going to bed, but the text made her feel annoyed. Who was he to think that the only reason she would take interest in someone as objectively stunning as Matteo, who also had a personality more likeable than Max’s by a mile, was because he had made fun of her for having no sex. 

She took off her makeup and changed into comfortable clothes in a foul mood, making sure to brush her teeth after the night she’d had, and nearly went to bed with a scowl on her face until she saw another message from Matteo. ‘Don’t worry, tomorrow night will be an improvement.’ followed by a link to the website for a homey but upmarket looking Italian restaurant. She was already feeling giddy, and instead went to bed with a smile on her face.

Chapter Text

“You have never tried tiramisu before?” Matteo said in disbelief. He looked absolutely angelic in the lighting of the Italian restaurant. The soft golden light from the lamps was making his tan skin glow, and his brown eyes were basically sparkling. He was potentially the most beautiful man Kit had ever seen. 

“I’m sorry, okay. Order it then, there’s a first time for everything.” Matteo smiled and flagged down the waiter. Everything he did had that sort of command to it. Not in the way that the person she had pledged not to think about tonight commanded people, where it was like he thought he was better than everyone around him. It was just this sort of confidence he exuded, it made Kit feel taken care of. And also seriously turned on, but that was another matter. 

“Prendiamo il tiramisù, per favore, e qualsiasi vino lo accompagni. Grazie.” Matteo said, the Rs rolling off his tongues like waves in the ocean. That accent was like music to her ears, she could have just sat across from him and listened to him speak Italian the entire night and still have gone home with a smile on her face. “What are you looking at, bella?” He said, smiling down at the table as he fiddled with the cuffs on his shirt. He was just wearing a plain button up shirt, but on him it looked hand-sculpted by the gods. 

“You. Why, am I not allowed to look?” Kit said, not able to keep the smile from her face.

“No, keep looking. I like it.” He said. The pair had been in their own little bubble all evening, talking about their jobs and their friends and their childhoods, occasionally just blatantly flirting, like right now. Kit looked away and laughed quietly, red faced, embarrassed by his bluntness. “Hey, that’s not fair, I should get to look too.” Matteo joked and Kit brought her head back to face him, his hand reaching over to hold hers on the table. The soft Italian music played over the speakers as they drank each other in, only interrupted by the waiter clearing his throat above them as he set down two new, small wine glasses and poured them each some of the amber coloured liquid. 

“What’s this?” Kit asked. They’d already finished a bottle of red wine between them, and although she wasn’t even close to as drunk as she’d been the night before, the alcohol was sitting in her stomach, helping her feel warm and comfortable across from the Italian man. 

“I don’t know, something that the waiter thinks will make your first tiramisu even better, I hope.” Matteo joked. She was just thinking of something witty to say in return when her phone began to buzz from her bag (that she’d bought that morning in Milan while also shopping for a new dress). She was tempted just to leave it, but then she began to worry that her mum had died or something so she checked the caller ID. It was Christian, fuck. “Answer it.” Matteo said from across the table. He didn’t look annoyed or defeated or anything like that. He just looked understanding. 

“Are you sure, I don’t have to.” Kit said, but the look on her face clearly told another story. 

“Go, it’s fine. Really, it is. This restaurant is slow anyway.” Matteo replied, clearly grinning to make her feel better.

“Thank you, I’ll be quick.” She placed a hand on his shoulder as she left, and he placed a hand on the back of her waist as she passed him on her way out, the feeling sending tingles up and down her spine. “Hello?” Kit said as she answered the phone.

“Kit hi, sorry about the late call.” Kit checked her watch. It was already 9:30, the past 3 hours with Matteo had flown by. 

“No worries, what’s up?” She replied, trying to contain a sigh.

“Nothing much, I was just calling to ask if you’d be able to come to the track tomorrow morning before the meeting, around 10? I’ve just been talking to Hugh, and he says that they’re thinking of making a few changes that he wants to go through with you before the main strategy meeting.” Christian said. 

“Oh sure, no worries. I’ll be there at 10.” Obviously, because what else was she gonna say? ‘No, sorry, I was planning on having a sleep in at the home of a Roman god.’ Yeah, right.

“Great, thanks Kit, see you tomorrow.” Christian said, followed by the line going dead. She sighed deeply before putting her phone back in her bag and heading back into the restaurant. A meeting at 10 meant leaving Matteo’s hotel at 8am the next morning (if everything went as she hoped it would) so that she could get back to her hotel, train, shower, and then make it to the track in time. It wasn’t like this was uncommon, occasionally at Torro Rosso her or Daniil would need to spend a bit of extra time outside of the meetings going through things, but usually not an hour and a half before the main meeting. But she was at a more competitive team now, and if things weren’t perfect, then everyone would try to make them as close as possible. 

“Sorry about that.” Kit said as she sat down again. Thankfully, their dessert hadn’t arrived. 

“It’s fine, seriously, it is.” Matteo emphasised. “Was it your boss? You looked scared.” He laughed, and Kit laughed along with him.

“Yeah, it was. I must be easy to read then?” She said, smiling at their once more connected hands. 

“Mm, fairly.” He said, unable to maintain a serious expression. 

“Okay, what am I thinking right now?” Kit said, smiling at the man across from her.

“You’re thinking, ‘Wow, it is so nice to be the prettiest girl in Italy right now. All the models in Milan are probably jealous just for me being here.’” Matteo laughed as Kit rolled her eyes. 

“Smooth, Berrettini, smooth.” She laughed. They sadly had to disconnect their hands as the generous serving of tiramisu was set down in front of them, but the smiles weren’t wiped from either of their faces. This was the happiest she’d felt in a while. 

And it was the happiest she would stay for a while, she thought to herself as she woke up the next morning with a tan, lean arm wrapped around her bare middle. She could feel Matteo pressed up behind her, and she smiled to herself at the feeling of being in bed with another person, especially one she liked as much as him. She tried to quietly extract herself from the sheets, seeing that the time was 7:40am on the digital alarm next to the bed, but Matteo’s arm just tightened around her as he grumbled in protest and nuzzled his head into her shoulder. 

“It’s too early bella, you can’t be leaving me already.” He said, and his voice was so attractive with its morning raspiness that she nearly melted on the spot. 

“I have to go, I have a meeting.” She said quietly, turning around so that her hands could go to his hair and their bare chests were pressed up against each other. 

“God, why?” He groaned, leaning his face onto her shoulder again, her hands now playing with the hair on the back of his head.

“My car, it needs to be, uh, discussed.” Kit said, struggling to form coherent sentences as Matteo began to leave distracting kisses down her neck. 

“Discuss later.” Matteo murmured from the crook between her neck and her shoulder. He began biting and sucking, and it took all her willpower to push his head away and hopefully prevent another hickey. Most of them were far enough down to be covered by a team polo, but there would potentially need to be some strategic buttoning to hide them all completely. 

“I really do have to get up.” Kit said softly, managing to free herself from his clutches. As she bent over to grab her dress, back facing Matteo, she heard him let out a low whistle, followed by a laugh as she threw her bag at him. Turning around, still fully naked, she stopped for a second to admire the view in front of her. Matteo was lying on his back, hands behind his head as to fully display his well toned arms. The sheets pooled around his hips, showing off a long, lean, tan torso littered with tattoos. She would be thinking about that image for the whole weekend, if not the rest of her life if she went without sex for too long again. Coming back to reality, she saw that Matteo was doing the same. She blushed, unused to that kind of straightforward attention, and began to get dressed, sliding on her undies and then bra, followed by her dress. She was thanking herself from the night before for picking out a dress that was lowkey enough to not obviously show that she was coming home, rather than leaving for the day. 

“Will I get to see you again, bella?” Matteo said, a little bit more serious now. While she hadn’t really thought out any kind of future between them, because that sort of thing only ended in disappointment, Kit’s stomach also turned at the idea of never seeing him again. Not only was the sex great and well appreciated, they also got along well, and she found it easy to talk to him. She couldn’t say that about too many of the men in her past. 

“Maybe you should come to the race on Sunday? Not as like, you know, anything, you can just be my friend.” Kit said, jumping back on the bed so that she could swing her legs over his and sit on his lower stomach. His hands came to her upper thighs, dragging the material up as he went, and his warm hands felt like they were leaving imprints on her skin. 

“Friend?” Matteo said with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Okay, well, obviously not. We can just tell people you’re my friend.” Kit smiled, leaning down to give him a peck. She glanced over at the clock and saw that it read 8:04. “Okay, now I actually have to go.” She said, getting up to collect her things and slip on her shoes, which thankfully were tennis shoes and not heels. 

“I’ll call you.” Matteo said, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“I’ll be waiting by the phone.” Kit said, grinning as she left the room.

Max entered the meeting room with his usual unimpressed expression, finding his seat on the opposite side to the table as Kit and sitting down, saying nothing except a small nod to his engineer. Kit, who had already been there for nearly 2 hours, was still buzzing from the night before. She didn’t want to make it obvious, but she was clearly in a good mood. Everything from her eyes to her skin to the way they talked optimistically about their race weekend, she was just happy. And then Max opened his mouth.

“I don’t understand this.” Max said in his usual petulant tone, arms crossed and mouth downturned. 

“The CPU and the turbo got damaged last week, we think because of the angle and force that you went into the wall with, and we were already going to have to change the ICE because of its underperformance, and Monza doesn’t typically suit our car anyway so we’re gonna take the penalty this time and then hope that the new elements allow for better overtaking so that we can still get good points.” The head race engineer repeated patiently to Max.

“And what about her? Hers is working fine?” Max said incredulously, waving towards ‘her’. Kit restrained her eyes from rolling.

“Pierre obviously wasn’t exactly in much shape to be putting his power unit through the ringer as much, so Kit’s engine is still manageable.” He explained, still being patient despite Max’s unjustified temper. You would’ve thought that he’d never been in a strategy briefing before. Max huffed and said little for the rest of the meeting, and although it made Kit’s skin crawl with frustration, she had bigger things to be worrying about. 

“Cath, would I be able to ask you something?” Kit said to their head of PR as they all left the meeting, finding the woman working outside in the sun. She was basically always at the track, partly to get content for various RedBull accounts, but also partly because she couldn’t stand to work in a hotel room. 

“Sure love, what’s up?” Cath said, turning away from her laptop.

“Would I be able to invite someone to the race on Sunday? Like, they don’t have to watch from the garage, just to be where all the usual VIPs are. I just wanted to check cos they’re sorta, well known?” Kit said, ending on a question and already regretting having asked at seeing Cath’s knowing expression. 

“Of course, would you mind telling me who this someone is?” She asked, smiling and already typing an email. 

“Um, he’s a tennis player, Matteo Berrettini?” kit said tentatively, laughing at Cath’s half-excited half-surprised expression. 

“Well done Kit.” Cath said. 

“We’re not, I mean, we only met the other night, I don’t know, I sort of invited him on a whim, is that weird? Actually, could I get two passes and that way he’s not alone? But then I’m just inviting him and a person I’ve never met before, and that’s weird. God, I sound like such a teenager.” Kit rambled, borderline pacing. 

“It’s not weird, and anyway, Max requested a pass for some Italian supermodel so both your stunning plus ones can hang out together in hospitality.” For some reason just the mention of Max and a supermodel made Kit’s stomach stir with annoyance, but then she remembered the joke Matteo made about the jealous models in Milan and the annoyance subsided.

“Okay, okay cool. Thanks Cath.” Kit said, considerably less freaked out.

“Anytime my love.” After all the details were settled, Kit texted Matteo to inform him of the plans, including the part about the supermodel. ‘I’ll show her a picture of you and see if she looks jealous.’ he replied, and Kit smiled inadvertently to herself. So what if Max’s douchebaggery had stirred her on, she had a fine looking Italian athlete coming to watch her race. And that was worth all of Max in his Max-ness.

Chapter Text

“That’s P5 and fastest lap Kit, well done today, given the circumstances with the grid penalty.” Her race engineer Hugh said over the radio, but despite his positive words, his tone of disappointment was evident. 

“Yeah, I put in a few good ones there at the end, just a shame it wasn’t like that all race. Thanks for all the hard work this weekend boys.” Kit said back over the radio, biting her tongue that she didn’t give a fuck about Max’s grid penalty and quelling her own internal pride at P5. It was only her second race with RedBull, and she hadn’t yet trained her instinctual response to hearing P5 over the radio to be disappointment rather than joy. At Sauber and Torro Rosso, P5 would’ve been as good as a win. 

She drove her car up behind Max who had finished P4, already preparing for an icy reception after taking fastest lap from him. In her defence, she could’ve been putting those lap times in long before him if he had overtaken Daniel about 10 laps earlier. While she’d essentially followed him up through the pack after starting 7th and 8th respectfully, she didn’t really have another choice. She’d gone on the radio three times to tell Hugh that she was faster, but to no avail. Christian wouldn’t allow team orders to work against his golden boy, even if it meant sacrificing race pace. The more she thought about it, the more Kit felt her frustration rising. 

Her and Max were weighed one after another, still in silence, Kit gratefully accepting a cap to cover her sweaty hair. She stripped off the top portion of her overalls as well, the tight layer underneath still sticking to her skin and not doing anything to alleviate her general bad mood. And it was only because her teammate was Max. Any other driver, she would’ve felt that ball of frustration deep in her stomach but pushed it away, because at the end of the day they want to be in front of her just as badly as she wants to be in front of them. But when it came to Max it was a whole different story. 

She saw Charles nearby talking to Lewis, and after winning the race she figured she should give her congratulations to her ex-teammate. “Charles, well done mate.” Kit said, going in for the high five but being pulled into a hug instead. 

“You too, fastest lap right?” Charles said excitedly. 

“Yeah, but only P5.” Kit said. 

“Mate, P5 compared to where we were last year? You drove well.” Charles said, and gave Kit’s shoulders another squeeze before he was being ushered away for a podium interview. Kit walked back over to where Max was, appreciating their few minutes before press as the podium celebration panned out. They stood in silence for a few moments before Daniel came up to them, craving a bit of banter with Max.

“Mate, got me there at the end.” Daniel said, still smiling through it. 

“You had it coming mate, I was up your ass for like 40 laps.” Max said, and Kit was almost unnerved at seeing him smile so genuinely. She wanted to know what Daniel’s secret was for actually befriending Max. Then again, when she thought about having to be friends with Max she physically shuddered, so maybe it wasn’t such a good secret. 

“Yeah, yeah sure. Oh, and you speedy gonzalez, I saw your last lap time, that was impressive shit.” Daniel said, giving her a squeeze around the shoulders similar to the one she’d just received from Charles. She was glad some people found her worth celebrating, even if none of them were actually part of her team.

“Thanks Danny, I think you’re being summoned though.” Kit said, pointing to a slightly impatient looking Renault employee. 

“Oh fuck, see you guys round.” Daniel said before scampering off. Kit must’ve had a lingering smile on her face, what with being congratulated twice in a row and remembering the Italian Stallion she had waiting for her, but that was quickly shut down by Max. 

“You only got fastest lap because of my tow, I did all the work in that race and you just followed me.” Max said, staring straight ahead, not maybe eye contact with Kit. 

“Jesus, fuck off man. I know you’re in a shitty mood but that’s not my fault.” Kit said, trying to talk quietly as to not cause a scene. 

“Are you sure? Because I overtook 3 people in that race and made them stick and you just used that to overtake them yourself, and then you steal my fucking fastest lap and everyone says that you’re the one doing a good job. It’s fucking bull shit man.” Max said, but left quickly before Kit could reply as drivers were beginning to be shepherded towards the media pen. Kit just rolled her eyes. She made those overtakes as well, no matter what he wanted to say about her using him. She could’ve easily gotten stuck in 8th behind Nico. And getting all the credit my ass, she thought to herself. The day a radio message didn’t involve something about Max, or a debrief started about her and not him, that was when she could say she was getting all the credit. 

The media pen was busy as usual, and she squeezed her fists as she was herded over to the slot right next to Max. She gave him a bit of a side eye which she knew would get her in trouble later before smiling at the interviewer as a cue to begin. “So P5, not a bad result considering you started in 8th, how are you feeling about the race?” The journalist asked.

“Yeah, look I’m pretty happy, I know the team was hoping for a podium given how well Max and I were moving up the field and, you know, after our pit stops seemed to work well and everything, but yeah, not a bad result.” Kit’s body language gave off the carefree energy that was entirely opposed to her internal rage towards Max, who was standing not even a metre away from her, conversing in Dutch with the Ziggo journalist.

“We heard you come on the radio a few times throughout the race, basically asking to be swapped with Max, do you think that the race would’ve gone differently had those team orders been given?” The journalist queried, clearly looking for a good segment.

“I mean, who knows right?” Kit shrugged. “I thought that I had faster lap times, but clearly the team could see something I couldn’t so they chose to keep Max in front. Whether or not that cost us a podium, who knows.” Kit said, slightly more biting than she would usually be, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what Max had said to her earlier. 

“But surely if you were faster then an overtake should’ve been possible, given you were essentially right behind Max the entire race.” The journalist continued. God, even he was getting on her nerves now. 

“I was given instructions not to race with Max, so, no.” Kit replied.

“Were you?” The man asked again. 

“Yes, I was.” Kit said. What was wrong with some people?

“Do you think that the team is prioritising Max over you to purposefully benefit his standings in the championship?” He asked.

“I mean, I hope not.” Kit grinned. “But no, seriously, the team worked really hard this weekend, especially after I got a bit of damage in qualifying and ended up so low on the grid, and also after Max’s penalty, so yeah, no, I wouldn’t say there’s any of those feelings in the team.” Kit said. She wouldn’t go full PR nightmare just yet. 

“Great, thanks for chatting to us Kit.” The journalist said, already turning his gaze towards Esteban who was moving in from Kit’s other side. Max still wasn’t done chatting with his fellow Dutchmen, but having nowhere else to go Kit figured it would be better to invade her own teammate’s interview with the more chill interviewers rather than awkwardly stand around in the background. 

“Oh, hallo kleine red bull.” One of the presenters said cheerfully as Kit walked into the frame. She noticed Max go almost stiff, and she was internally happy at making him uncomfortable. 

“Hallo, sorry for invading, you guys are taking too long and I got pushed forward.” Kit laughed, eliciting laughs from the presenters as well, although Max barely cracked a smile. 

“No worries, we just have too much to discuss with Super Max here.” The other presenter said.

“It’s fine, I have to go anyways.” Max said dully, exchanging a few parting words in Dutch before moving on. 

“What is going on there?” Presenter no. 1 asked.

“Whatever could you mean?” Kit joked. 

“I think there’s a bit of ice on that mountain cap.” Presenter no. 2 continued. 

“Oh, well, we’re just competitive, that’s all. I think I was in his personal space for about 53 laps, he’s sick of me.” The three laughed, and Kit was happy to have avoided the question. 

“Actually, Max was just talking about why he didn’t think that the team orders got put into place, what do you think about that?” Kit didn’t even think about what she said next.

“Oh, what did he say?” She tried to remain calm and happy, not revealing the flames of loathing licking at her stomach. 

“Do you really want to know? It’s not very nice.” One of the presenters said.

“Go on.” Kit said good naturedly. 

“Well, Max seemed to think that he would be better at overtaking the people in front of you, and that’s why he was kept out in front, even though he was technically slower.” The interviewers stayed smiling, but there was another layer of tension between them. 

“I mean that’s bullshit, but whatever.” Kit couldn’t control herself, and she was thanking her lucky stars that this wasn’t going to an English TV channel. 

“So what do you think about the team orders not being given? Other than that, of course.”

“I think that, I mean hopefully, the team had some data that they weren’t sharing with either of us because they didn’t want to distract us from racing, and they just didn’t think that it would be a good move to put me in front. That’s what I hope is the case.” Kit smiled, but she knew it was getting faker and faker by the second. 

“So you’re not going to tell us what you really think?” They prodded. 

“No, I’m saving that for my memoir.” Kit said, and she was happy that she managed to finish the otherwise inflammatory interview on a light note. As she moved onto the next interview, she saw Max giving her a bit of a side eye, but brushed him off. He could deal with the consequences of his own actions, fuck good PR.

While the rest of her interviews stayed fairly calm and neutral, Kit could still feel her anger simmering beneath the surface, just waiting to be sparked again. “Getting a bit feistier now that you’re in the big leagues, huh?” Daniel said from behind her as they walked back towards the motorhomes. She’d sent Matteo a text earlier saying he could follow the model there to meet up with her, because undoubtedly that model had seen parts of the building in positions Kit didn’t want to think about in detail. 

“I have no idea what you could mean, Mr Ricciardo.” Kit joked. 

“Just be careful, okay. Being number 2 to Max isn’t easier when you fight too hard too fast. Trust me.” Daniel said, his uncharacteristically serious tone making Kit slightly uncomfortable. She jokingly saluted as he disappeared into the Renault building, glad to see his big grin return to his face. Her fireproofs were really starting to get annoying, and she couldn’t wait to take them off and change into some normal clothes (or have Matteo take them off, whichever was faster). 

“Hey.” Max said from behind her. He was also coming back from the media pens, and his initiation of discussion actually scared her. The paddock was pretty empty aside from a few staff members here and there, most drivers showering off before their post race debrief.

“Hey.” Kit said, flat toned. 

“You can’t just say that shit, you know.” Max said, his aggression popping up from nowhere. He sure had a talent for that, and for inspiring the same in her. 

“Why? You bloody started it with your whinging about me getting fastest lap. You have an attitude problem Max, and I’m not just gonna sit here and let you brand number 2 on my ass, okay?” Kit’s voice had remained at a constant volume, but she could tell from Max’s expression that he wouldn’t be returning the favour. They had stopped in between RedBull and Mercedes, and Kit could vaguely see Lewis approaching from the media pen, drenched in champagne. Her focus returned to Max though, nostrils nearly flaring from anger. 

“Me? I have an attitude problem? You flat out said our team strategy was bullshit in a live interview, okay, don’t tell me I have an attitude problem.” Max was going a bit red, but he wasn’t yelling yet.

“You fucking said that you didn’t think I could overtake as well as you and that’s why I was kept behind you. That’s what I called bullshit Max, you.” Now Kit was as well, and she noticed a few heads turning around them.

“Well, it’s the truth okay. You showed last week that you couldn’t overtake, because you stayed in P4 for the majority of the race. I’m just stating what I think is true.” Max shrugged.

“God Max, I’m sorry that my first race in this car didn’t get me a podium. Is that what you want to hear? Listen to yourself for two fucking seconds Max, two fucking seconds and you’ll get why I find you so bloody insufferable.”

“You think I’m the insufferable one-” Max stopped as a hand was placed on his chest, the other placed on Kit’s shoulder. In between them stood Lewis, who had clearly been watching the whole thing unfold and decided to step in before they began to throttle one another. 

“Guys, don’t. I’ve been here before and it doesn’t end well. If you’re gonna tear each other’s throats out, at least do it inside.” Max aggressively shrugged off Lewis’ hand and stormed inside. Kit muttered a short “Thanks Lewis” and followed Max, even though she would rather have gone anywhere else. 

Inside, Matteo was seated in the staff cafeteria area chatting to Vic, but his face lit up when Kit entered the room. Kit only realised then how tired she was, and she basically melted into Matteo’s side as he met her to walk to her drivers’ room. 

“I’m sorry you waited for me, it’s probably gonna be another hour before I’m done.” Kit said tiredly as she rubbed her hands up and down her face, shutting the door behind her with her hip. 

“That’s okay, I’m having the time of my life here, I won’t lie.” It made Kit relieved to see that he wasn’t bored, and that he genuinely found the whole ordeal fascinating, just like a little kid. Even as she looked down at him sitting on the small couch, his eyes roamed the four blank walls with curiosity. 

“You don’t mind waiting?” She asked, still concerned that she was going to scare him off.

“Nope, I’ll go for a walk or something while it’s still sunny.” Sunny was a slight overstatement, the light outside already turning orange, but Kit wasn’t complaining as it made Matteo’s skin glow and his eyes glint. 

“Did you, uh, did you see…” Kit trailed off as she thought about how to ask if he’d witnessed her argument with Max, not wanting him to think of her as argumentative after only a few days. 

“A little bit, we were pressed up against the windows when Max came in.” Matteo said, his hands coming up to hold Kit’s as he watched her face drop. “He’s a dick, bella, he deserved whatever you said to him.” Kit smiled briefly as his thumbs rubbed circles on the backs of her hands. 

“I called him insufferable.” She laughed, and Matteo laughed along with her. 

“You’re not wrong. When he walked through that door, he looked at me with so much hatred I thought he was going to come up and punch me.” They kept laughing at Matteo’s recount.

“Well, I’m happy he didn’t.” Kit said, freeing one of her hands to cup his cheek before leaning down for a sweet kiss that didn’t last long as she got the warning bang on the door that the meeting would be starting soon. “Fuck, okay, I need to shower and then leave, you’re sure you’re okay waiting?” Kit asked again as she leaned into the small bathroom to turn on the hot water.

“I’m perfect right here.” Matteo smiled.

“Perfect.” Kit said. And it would’ve been, if she couldn’t hear Max’s shower starting as well. She just couldn’t escape that insufferable boy.

Chapter Text

“Damn Kit, what’ve they been putting in your water, huh?” Charles said, following a suggestive whistle as Kit entered his Monaco apartment. He'd organised a night out in Monaco following the Italian GP, and Kit had been excited at the prospect for days. Wearing a black silky dress that toed the line between classy and slutty, Kit had to admit that she looked and felt like a million bucks. The night was cool but not cold, so she’d forgone a jacket in the hopes that the nightclub they were headed to after dinner would warm her up enough. Standing around Charles’s kitchen island with drinks in hand, there was a decent group of about 10 people ready to hit the town, one of whom was Max. She knew that he’d be there, given he was part of the younger portion of the grid and also lived in Monaco, which couldn’t be said about the other three drivers who’d been invited, George, Alex, and Lando, who had been staying in Monaco for the weekend. And yet, she still dreaded having to interact with him at all. While the others all greeted her hello with a hug or a smile, Max took a deep gulp of his drink and appeared to be pretending not to notice her arrival. 

“Do I get one of these too?” Kit said jokingly as she flicked Charles’ beer bottle, wanting to avoid awkwardness caused by iciness between her and Max at all costs. Although it would be all too easy to let instinct take over and start leaving snarky comments left and right, she didn’t want to ruin the nights for the other boys, it being one of the rare times they could all hang out together during the season without it being something to do with their jobs. 

“Oh, of course, how could I forget?” Charles laughed. There was quiet music playing over the speakers, and Kit smiled to herself as she realised it was Charles’ girlfriend’s playlist. That thought led her to picturing Matteo, with the background of that homey Italian restaurant. It wasn’t like they were exclusive or anything, but she was most definitely enjoying having a consistent male presence in her life that wasn’t involved in Formula 1. And yet, every time he messaged her she couldn’t help but wonder if there were other girls he was texting too. It didn’t help that both of them were fairly busy with training, and their schedules just never seemed to coincide. Kit had vaguely considered asking him to come tonight, but didn’t know if she could face another ‘not tonight bella im sorry, i have to do…’. 

“You look a bit lost in space.” Alex said jokingly from beside her, waking her up from the deep thought she’d been in. Having debuted that season alongside George in Williams, Alex and her hadn’t had much time to talk to one another, but she always thought of him as a nice guy. 

“Just thinking, that’s all.” Kit smiled. 

“Not about work, I hope.” He grinned in reply. 

“No, I don’t think I’d look so lost if it was a work dilemma.” Kit laughed. 

“Personal dilemma? Oo, tell us more.” George joined in, seemingly materialising from beside Alex. 

“It’s nothing.” Kit said, laughing at their annoyed and disbelieving faces. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” 

“I think I know what it’s about.” Max said, joining their conversation. Kit felt somewhat bad for the rest of Charles’ friends, given it appeared like the drivers just wanted to talk to each other, but then again if you lived in Monaco a Formula 1 driver was just the same as any other person. Max had an unreadable look in his eyes, not happy but also not the usual emotionless stare he wore. 

“Oh, do you?” Kit said, the joking tone gone from her voice. 

“Yeah, it’s gotta be something about that guy, the tennis player.” He said, taking a nonchalant sip of his beer.

“Not everything in my life revolves around who I’m having sex with, although I don’t think I’d be able to say the same for you.” Kit said, not breaking eye contact with Max. 

“Was he the super tall, like, tan guy I saw walking around at Imola? I thought he looked familiar.” Alex said, innocently trying to break up the semi-argument that was already occurring. 

“If he looked a bit lost then that was him, yeah.” Kit laughed, trying to ignore Max’s presence at her side. 

“Oh that guy, yeah he asked me for directions to the RedBull motorhome, I don’t think he even knew I was a driver.” George said, and all except for Max laughed. Sometimes she seriously didn’t understand that guy. These were his friends too, and yet he hated her so much that he wouldn’t even crack a smile when they were surrounded by people he actually liked. 

“Yeah, no, he’s um, he’s cute, I guess.” Kit said, laughing awkwardly with nothing else to say.

“It’s good you’re not scared to date though, I haven’t taken out a girl in public since the beginning of this year. I’m basically the worst performing driver on the grid and I could still see people taking photos of us.” George said, and although she laughed along, Kit couldn’t help but feel her stomach churn. She hadn’t noticed a single person other than Matteo on their date, that was how enthralled she was by him. Nothing had been mentioned to her by their PR team, but what if she’d been seen going up to his hotel? She would have to have a bit of an Instagram scroll later that night to see if anything was being said about her. 

“Yeah, well, I was getting a bit desperate.” Kit said, momentarily forgetting that Max, despite turning away to another conversation, was still within earshot. 

“Fair enough.” Aelx said solemnly. 

“Mate, you literally have a girlfriend, shut the fuck up.” George said, him and Kit laughing together at Alex. There was a bit of bustling around as it seemed like most people were preparing to leave for the club, so Kit put her now empty bottle in the bin and went to the bathroom for a safety wee, because once she started drinking she pissed like a racehorse. 

“I noticed that you and Max are still ready to fight each other at any minute.” Charles said as they all piled into cars that were waiting in the driveway of Charles’ apartment building. Each car was a sleek metallic shade, the luxury only being emphasised in the dwindling sunset as each vehicle looked like a precious jewel. 

“That was tame. Just wait until we get a few more drinks in us.” Kit joked, giving herself a mental note to not get too smashed in case it made her consider that a public verbal berating of Max was a good idea. 

“I have never been more scared to see you drunk.” Charles laughed. Kit felt her phone buzz, and seeing it was Matteo she locked it and put it back in her bag. They’d only been in this weird not-dating-but-more-than-friends zone for just over a week, she wasn’t about to be texting him back immediately when she was out with other people. That was a one month anniversary kind of thing. 

The cars sped through the glittering summer streets of Monaco before stopping out the front of a large hotel complex that the group piled out in front of. The place they were going for dinner wasn’t visible from the street, but once entering the building it was obvious why. The restaurant extended out onto the water so that the tables furthest away from the entrance had an unobstructed view of the Monaco harbour, yachts bobbing silently up and down in the water, with the ones hosting various parties having set off further out into the sea. Charles being Charles, he had obviously organised for them to be seated in the best spot, the long table garnished with white fabric napkins that alone probably cost more than Kit’s family house back in Australia. 

Kit sat herself at the closest end of the table, wanting to reserve the nicer end for Charles and his friends (although, she could’ve sat in the toilet and still felt like she was having a fine dining experience). Despite making this mental decision, she found herself facing a man she’d only been introduced to briefly, clearly one of Charles’ Monégasque compatriots. On his right was Alex and on her left was George, so she wasn’t overly worried about having to make conversation with a stranger (well, she knew his name was Louis, but that was about all). 

Louis sent a brief smile her way, but after that most of the dinner time conversation was dominated by her, George, and Alex. Kit began to feel a bit guilty, but then again, he had purposefully chosen to sit with them and not his friends, which was something Kit didn’t really comprehend. However, he still seemed to be having a good time. Someone who most definitely was not having a good time was Max, and the sight stirred something pleasant in Kit’s stomach. 

He was sitting next to Charles with his usual neutrally pissed off face, except this time there was a noticeable down turn to his mouth and certain irritation in his eyes at the loud Monégasque boys who conversed mostly in French as they became more and more drunk. Serves him right, Kit thought to herself. She didn’t have enough fingers to count the number of Ziggo interviews they’d done together of which she understood about a quarter of what was being said. 

The dinner was maybe the nicest food Kit had ever eaten, with the wine entering her body at rapid pace making it all the more delicious. It dawned on her as she swirled up pasta off George’s plate and nearly melted at the creamy flavour in her mouth that she hadn’t been making the most of her position in the world until this point. She was a Formula 1 driver for one of the most competitive teams on the grid, with an apartment in Monaco and a salary that still made her eyes bulge. She was only 21, but by this point she should’ve tasted better food than what was essentially Charles Leclerc’s neighbourhood pub. Glancing at the man across from her and then at Matteo’s still unread text, she made the decision that she figured played into this lifestyle perfectly: she started flirting with him. 

It wasn’t anything major, definitely not on par with some of the things she’d said to Matteo during their date, but it was fun. While a part of her still felt guilty at the subtly hopeful glint in his eyes and also at the thought of Matteo sitting in his apartment not even 5km away, she was getting carried away with the alcohol in her system and couldn’t help herself.

“So what do you do? I can’t believe I haven’t asked yet.” Kit said, waving around a desert spoon before diving into the petite yet delicious slice of cheesecake in front of her. She noticed Louis’ eyes flick downwards as her lips closed around the spoon, and the act inflated her ego like a balloon. 

“Oh, um, it’s kind of hard to explain.” The man said, smiling sheepishly.

“Try me.” Kit said. 

“I’m sort of part of the royal family.” Louis said as he scratched the back of his neck. Kit nearly spat out her wine all over him, and was grateful that she didn’t given it could probably get her arrested for treason or something.

“Like, the one in Monaco?” She asked, and cringed at how bogan she sounded. 

“Yes, although I’m not in line for the throne or anything.” He said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Fuck me.” Kit laughed as she sat back in her chair, and she briefly made eye contact with Max as the words left her mouth. He quirked an eyebrow but she pretended to have not noticed and focused her attention back on the royal in front of her. 

By 10:30pm the food was demolished and the alcohol was drunk, so the party descended the steps of the hotel and headed on foot to a nearby nightclub. While it was still fairly early in the night, Kit had been assured by Charles that they would just hang out in the VIP section of the club (which was already fairly VIP given it was Monaco) until the dancefloor started to fill up. It was also at this point that Kit began to regret her earlier decision to give Louis the Royal so much attention. While the revelation of his lineage had proved wildly entertaining for about 20 minutes, it turned out that being royalty didn’t allow for much of a personality to be formed, and their conversation kept having to be reignited by Kit, who felt too bad to just return to talking to George and Alex and force Louis to return to his friends with his tail between his legs. 

The bouncer of the club took one look at Charles and unhooked the velvet rope, and as corny as it was Kit couldn’t help but smile to herself as they were led up the stairs into a more subdued room. Booths and round tables were scattered around, and despite there being a considerable number of groups, every spot in the room felt insulated from prying eyes. Without making it too obvious, Kit slotted herself between Charles and Max in the large booth, because stony and rage-fuelled silence was at this point more interesting than talking about how much she liked Australia with a person who had never been and never wanted to go because, quote, ‘what do people even do there?’. 

“Salut ma chérie, can I buy you another drink?” Charles asked, his accent emphasised by the wine in his bloodstream. 

“Bien sûr, Charles.” Kit laughed, having picked up a very limited selection of French words after their year as teammates. One of those random thoughts informed her that she was yet to pick up any Dutch, and she tipsily turned to Max, even as he looked as though he would’ve made a run for it then and there had he been sitting at the edge of the booth rather than up against the wall. 

“Max, how do you say ‘you’re a dickhead’ in Dutch?” Kit said, laughing at his annoyed face as he turned his head to look. 

“Jij bent de beste coureur op de grid.” He said, a smile just twitching at his lips. Kit stared at him in confusion, the sentence obviously too long to mean what she really wanted to say. “Well, aren’t you going to repeat it back to me? I assume that’s the purpose you’re gonna use it for.”

“Jeej bent dee…I forgot the rest.” She nearly giggled at the fact that they weren’t arguing yet. Okay, maybe she would have to ask Daniel for some tips on how to be Max’s friend. 

“Jij bent de beste coureur op de grid.” He repeated, now almost smiling properly. 

“Jij bent de beste coureur, hey, fuck off, you are not the best driver on the grid.” Kit actually laughed, slapping him lightly on the arm. 

“I nearly got you though.” He replied, and Kit nearly felt excited at the prospect of them getting along. She actually liked him when they were both tipsy, even if he was unbearable sober. 

“Mademoiselle.” Charles said, placing what could’ve been anything down in front of her, given it was clear with a lime in it. 

“What’s this?” She asked curiously. 

“Gin and tonic.” Charles said, and Kit smiled at the memory of them drinking gin and tonics at a bar in the bumfuck of Germany the previous year because that was all they had left to serve other than unlabelled, home-brewed beer. 

“Well then, merci monsieur.” Kit said, picking the drink up to take a sip. She could feel eyes on her, and looked up to see Louis looking at her as she drank the cocktail. She averted her eyes back to Max quickly, as she didn’t want Louis to think that their night together was going any further, but found that the man was back to giving her the cold shoulder, his face fallen into its usual mould.

“It’s like you don’t even wanna have fun.” Kit said without hesitation, sober enough to realise it was a provoking thing to say but tipsy enough to say it anyway. 

“God, I’m sorry that I’m not laughing my fucking brains out at every second thing said. Just leave me alone.” Max said sharply, gesturing for her and Charles to move out of the booth so that he could get up. Wondering how someone could switch from nearly happy to so shitty in a matter of moments, Kit nudged Charles to get him to move up and off the seat. 

“Where are you going mate?” Charles said good naturedly. 

“Just getting a drink.” Max said gruffly as he headed to the bar that was obscured from view from where they were sitting. Before Kit could resume her previous position, she noticed Louis nodding her over and patting the spot next to him. Seeing that Charles had already engrossed himself in another conversation, and George and Alex were nowhere to be found (probably on the dancefloor already), she was left with no other option. 

“What’s his problem?” Louis said, his words slightly slurred. Kit glanced at the table to see a few empty shot glasses and juddered internally at the thought of a drunk, handsy royal who’d probably never been told no before. She seriously had to stop drinking wine if it was gonna make her lead every guy on like this. 

“He’s just a douche, you get used to it.” Kit said, but Louis was no longer listening, his eyes darting down further than her lips this time. She subconsciously tried to wiggle her mini dress further down her thighs, but to no avail. She was now acutely aware of how much of her body was exposed, and, in looking around the room to try and discourage Louis, she noticed he wasn’t the only one eyeing her off. 

“Mm, I get that.” Louis said vaguely, his hand coming to rest on her knee which she rapidly shuffled away from. She actually felt bad at his fallen expression, the guilt at leading him on making her frown at herself.

“Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, but-” Kit started.

“Oh no, it’s fine. Sorry.” Louis said, and although Kit appreciated his respectfulness, she couldn’t help but grit her teeth at the awkwardness that engulfed them. She was saved, however, by Charles getting up out of the booth and gesturing for her to follow on the premise of getting drinks for the table (which Kit was sure they’d be doing anyway). 

“What’s up Charlie?” Kit said, casually. The music in the VIP section was at the perfect volume where you couldn’t hear other people’s conversations if you weren’t speaking, but you didn’t have to shout to be heard, so Kit didn’t have to awkwardly yell into his ear to be heard. 

“So, are you gonna go after Louis as well?” Charles said in uncharacteristic seriousness.

“What? No?” Kit said in disbelief. There were a few moments of pause as Charles ordered the drinks, but then he resumed his lecture.

“Okay, fine. It just looked like it from where I was sitting, and I thought that maybe after your tennis player you were just getting a taste for it.” Charles said, watching the bartender pour the drinks and actively avoiding eye contact with Kit.

“What? Dude, ew.” Kit said, annoyed at the implication. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. It’s just not a great look, going after two rich guys who are pretty famous too, you know.” He continued, collecting 6 drinks on a tray. 

“Charles, I’m not ‘going after’ Louis, he made his moves on me and I shrugged him off.” Kit said, thoroughly angry now. Max was giving her a bad temper. 

“Okay, Jesus, sorry.” Charles said. Kit took her drink and descended downstairs to the dancefloor, figuring that she could at least dance with George and Alex if it was really dead. She would forgive Charles in the morning, she knew in her rational brain that he was just doing what he thought would protect her. But God, that kind of shit did make her seriously annoyed. Even with her last boyfriend, she never heard the end of it from people, especially her parents, asking her about what it would mean for her career if something bad happened, or what people would think of her. She was pretty sure no one was saying that kind of thing to Max regarding his Italian supermodel. 

Speaking of the devil, he just so happened to be the first person she saw as she reached the bottom of the staircase that joined the upstairs section with the main dance floor. While not packed wall to wall, there were a considerable number of people in the club and that alone made Kit feel comfortable with dancing by herself. And yet, she couldn’t take her eyes off Max.  He was leaning against the bar, one arm holding his drink and the other on the waist of a girl way out of his league. She was laughing like he was some kind of comedian, and he appeared to be nearly smiling at her. Kit remembered what he’d said to her earlier about not laughing at every second thing, or something like that, and she felt her jew clench in irritation. There was something about how angry and frustrated he made her that fuelled her, like poking a bruise. It was never pleasant, and yet here she was, staring him down like she was a jealous girlfriend. It was ridiculous that she could barely look at a guy without one of her best friends being concerned, but here was Max, hand practically on a stranger’s ass, and just about no one gave a shit. Sometimes Kit really, really hated being a girl. 

She was snapped out of her hate induced coma by the feeling of a pair of hands on her hips, the unfamiliar sensation enough to get her to move out of the stranger’s grip and storm over to the bar. She was sick of being touched and observed and scolded. Chugging the remainder of her drink, she made sure to loudly place the empty glass on the bar directly next to Max. He turned his head suddenly and Kit thought she even saw him smirk for a brief moment, but after blinking she realised he was looking at her in the same bored and slightly irritated way he always did. 

“I’m leaving, in case anyone asks.” Kit said, and just the fact that she had to yell over the pumping bass made her even more annoyed. 

“Okay.” Max said, deadpan. Rolling her eyes, Kit marched out of the club and felt refreshed by the cool September air, even though she did receive a few whistles from those still waiting in the queue. She retrieved her phone from her bag as she hailed a cab, the driving not really necessary in the tiny city, but not in the mood to be catcalled even more. She could still feel Louis’ hand on her knee and the stranger’s grip on her hips. 

Matteo’s text, now from 4 hours ago, read, ‘what r u doing tonight?’. Fuck. She hurriedly replied, thanking her one talent in life of not being a drunk texter. 

was out with some friends but it was shit, could i come over?

fuck, sorry, you’re probably sleeping, nvm

Kit locked her phone and leant her head back in the backseat, surprised when she felt her phone buzz. 

not asleep, i went out and it was shitty too

u should come over ;) XD :p

Kit smiled at the dorky typed emojis as Matteo sent through his address, and updated the taxi driver on her new destination. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total bust after all. 

“Bella, you look stunning.” Matteo said as he opened his apartment door, already in track pants and a t-shirt. Clearly his night out was a lot worse than hers. 

“Grazie, I try my best.” Kit smiled, the memory of Louis’ boring stories of childhood holidays in Gibraltar and Charles’ condescending tone already forgotten at the sight of Matteo’s grin. The night sky of Monaco could be seen behind him in floor to ceiling windows, and Kit marvelled at the view as she slipped off her strappy heels. Her feet nearly sighed in relief as Matteo led her over to the couch and brought her into his chest, his muscular arm firm but comforting around her shoulders. 

“So, why was your night shitty?” Matteo asked. Kit skillfully skated around the mentioning of Louis, not wanting to ruin the peaceful moment between them. She shuffled around in his arms to that her legs were thrown sideways over his instead of resting on the table in front of them, and her head rested on the side of his arm. 

“My fuckhead teammate, that’s all.” Kit summarised. 

“Fuckhead, that’s new. I will add that one to my vocabulary.” Matteo laughed.

“Mm, I’m a trailblazer. What about you though?” Kit said as she threw an arm across his chest, hand resting on his far shoulder. His arm drew her closer to him, and she was basically fully on his lap. 

“My best mate, he’s great, but all his friends are so fucking boring. They work in some, I don’t even know, law…place?” Matteo said, waving his arms around in front of him in a stereotypical Italian way. “When I said I was a tennis player, they said, oh, for fun? Ugh.” He said, leaning his head on the back of the couch as Kit laughed.

“You think this is funny?” Matteo joked, softly pushing Kit back onto the couch and lying on her fully so that she couldn’t move. 

“A little bit.” Kit giggled, still smiling as Matteo leaned in to place a kiss on her lips. She felt self conscious of the alcoholic taste in her mouth, but that didn’t seem to be stopping Matteo as he slipped his tongue inside. His hands rose up her thigh, lifting the silky material up to the waistband of her undies. 

“Così bella.” He murmured as his mouth moved to her neck, and Kit nearly moaned just at his voice. It certainly wasn’t the last thing she would hear in Italian that night, and by the next morning she knew she’d never be able to look at Charles the same way when he spoke Italian to the Ferrari race engineers in the paddock. 

And yet, despite the beautiful morning sunlight streaming through the windows and the gorgeous tennis player cooking her breakfast in the room over, Kit couldn’t help the wave of hate wash over her as she saw fuzzy photos of Max and his newest conquest practically devouring each other in the club from the night before. And yet, not that she really understood why, part of her wished that he had felt the same way after seeing the photos of her and Matteo from Italy. It was like tit for tat, or something. Probably. Hopefully.

Chapter Text

The conference room was buzzing in the Singaporean humidity. Journalists were whispering to journalists, and drivers to drivers. Kit was seated at the long black table with Daniel, Charles, and Seb, all chatting and laughing as they waited for the fifth driver to arrive. One guess who it was, starts with Max and ends in Verstappen. 

“God, I’m sweating my tits off.” Kit said, taking off her hat to fan herself with. The room seemingly had no air con and there were small beads of sweat dripping along her hair line. 

“Don’t tell them that.” Seb said with a grin on his face, nodding towards the room full of journalists. 

“Maybe I should, just to what they write. ‘Kit Kelly makes feminist statement ahead of the Singapore GP.’” They all dissolved in laughter, Daniel leaning his head down to lie on the table. 

“I’ll say I’m sweating my balls off and then it will be even.” Charles joked, and Kit was happy to see that they were back on good terms again. They hadn’t brought up the club and Louis, because it wasn’t really a big deal, and they usually just let these things simmer down. Unlike her and Max, Charles and Kit never really fought as teammates (even when they crashed into each other in Canada and had a double DNF for Sauber).

“Mm, I bet that’ll go down well.” Kit replied. She began fidgeting with her appearance, not out of nerves but more out of hyper awareness of all the cameras on the four of them without the distraction of someone answering a question. She reached back to sweep her hair up into a high ponytail, because even though she wouldn’t be able to put her hat back on it was getting far too warm for her neck to be blanketed. She fluffed the shorter sections of hair away from her face and wiped her eyes, palms resting on her cheeks as she did so. She then licked her lips and pressed them together, only then noticing that the men around her had gone quiet. 

“What?” She asked, looking dubious of the three who were looking at her with suspicious smiles on their faces. 

“Nothing. Why do you ask?” Seb said slyly. 

“You look dodgy, that’s all.” Kit said, and Daniel was the only one who laughed, Charles and Seb looking at her in amused confusion.

“Dodgy, I look dodgy? What the hell does that mean?” Seb laughed.

“Shifty, sus, shady, you know.” Kit said, not trying to provide any clarification. 

“Speaking of dodgy.” Daniel said, his signature grin beaming up above Kit’s head. She turned around and felt her ponytail swish against something, looking up to meet Max’s annoyed expression. 

“They wanted me to sit here, so…” Max said blankly, minutely gesturing to the chair Kit was sitting in. 

“Oh, well, of course sir.” Kit said, flourishing to the seat subtly as she stood to move the other end of the table. He made no acknowledgement of her as she gave up the seat, just sitting down and sipping from his water bottle. Kit suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, choosing instead to bring her elbows down loudly on the table in show of her frustration. 

“Easy there.” Daniel whispered behind his hand as the press conference swung into motion. 

“Fuck off.” Kit said smiling, rolling her eyes in a friendly way this time.

“I don’t get why you hate each other so much when I’m friends with you both. The maths just doesn’t add up.” Daniel replied. 

“Oh, yeah, cos that’s your strong point.” Kit joked. 

“Kit?” She heard a voice over a microphone say, and she whipped her head forward to see the expectant face of Will Buxton.

“Sorry, I’m sitting next to the class distraction so…” Kit laughed, turning to look at Daniel, feeling validated by the laughter from across the room. Looking beyond Daniel’s head, she saw Max’s gaze, pointed at her and full of distaste. Fuck him. 

“Well, can’t argue with that. I was just asking, P4 in Spa, P5 in Italy as well as fastest lap, you’ve been performing well so far with RedBull, how do you think that’s going to look here in Singapore, especially given the weather conditions?”

“Well, I mean I’m Aussie so we can take the heat.” Kit laughed, giving Daniel a friendly punch on the arm. “But um, yeah it’s definitely going to be a tough one. And uh, I mean Lando might give me a run for my money but I’m pretty sure I’m already the lightest one on the grid, so it’ll be really important to stay hydrated in the days leading up to the race and especially on Sunday, and just try and minimise that water loss during the race as much as possible. And in terms of results I’m pretty happy with how I’m going, obviously a podium would be nice and there’s no reason I shouldn’t aim for that, but yeah, if we can keep the same sort of level up here that would be ideal.” Kit said, happy to have gotten a few more laughs. 

“And just to touch on Italy, there was a lot of discussion about team orders there and about teams privileging one driver over another, do you think that there’ll be any sort of division between the two sides of the garage heading into the pointy end of the season?” Will continued.

“Um, I mean I think I made my thoughts pretty clear on some of the things that were said about team orders last week,” Kit said, suppressing a smile as she remembered her Ziggo interview, “but I don’t see any division happening in the team, everyone just wants to get as many constructor points as possible and deliver the best possible results for the team. I have a lot of faith and trust in the team, you know, I wanna do the best for them and they wanna do the best for me. Obviously it’s a bit strange for me, because I kind of took over someone else’s points and team and I’m still settling into that new dynamic, but yeah, no bad blood at all.” Kit smiled brightly, hoping she disguised her still lingering frustration from Italy under a convoluted, vague answer. She turned her head to the side again and found Max still staring at her with an even more annoyed look in his eyes.

‘What?’ She felt like yelling over. ‘Should I have said that you’re always going to be favoured in team orders? That you’re the number one driver and it isn’t even a question?’ But instead she just tried to glare daggers into his cold, Dutch soul. 

“And Max, do you have anything to add to that?” Will said, clearly trying to get some good content for the F1 website. 

“Um, no, not really. I think team orders are bullshit, so.” Max shrugged, and Kit could hardly believe her ears. This was the same man who, not even two weeks ago, had said she was kept behind him because she couldn't stick overtakes. It was like those few minutes in the club, he was Max, then he was Nice Max, then he was back to Max. This normal Max emerged as Will began to ask him some other question and his angry, roaming eyes came back to meet hers with bitterness. She would never understand him. 

Max was tired. Actually, exhausted might be a better word for it. His dad had called him at 4am, not calculating the time zones properly, and then didn’t let him get off the phone for an hour, essentially repeating the same message over and over: ‘4th place isn’t good enough, you have to be on the podium this week.’ Fuck, as if Max didn’t know that already. They seemed to be perpetually stuck in third under Ferrari, and whenever any headway would be made he would get shunted off the track or fucking Gasly would send it into the wall. Well, he wasn’t the problem anymore, and at least Kit could get some points even if she was unbearable to be around.

And that was what put him in a spectacular shittiy mood for press: Kit. But that wasn’t surprising. He didn’t really care about being late, because to him press was so stupid that he would rather cop the fine every time than do it, but unfortunately that wouldn’t go down so well with Christian. Or Helmut. Or Jos. 

As soon as he walked into the room, which was practically sweating from the walls, he was met with the sight of Kit sitting up at the table, laughing away. He didn’t have anywhere else to look as he was given a mic, so he just watched her, annoyance burning a hole in his stomach. Laughing and chatting and whispering with his friends. Before RedBull she was just the girl at Sauber, results barely enough to blink at. But now she was in a real competitive seat, it seemed like everyone wanted to be her friend. He didn’t get the hype. As a Formula 1 driver, you didn’t need to look far to find a pretty girl that laughed at every second thing you said. No one needed Kit for that. 

As he approached the mini stage, he watched as she lifted her hair up into a ponytail, locks falling out around her face. He noticed Daniel looking at her a bit too closely, and the sight just made his blood boil. It didn’t bother Max much when the media would rather focus on the pretty girl tying up her hair, but his best friend? Sometimes all Max wanted to do was scream that she wasn’t special just because she was a girl. She raced like all the others, so why should it matter that she looked like a Renaissance painting while she did it?

“Speaking of dodgy.” Daniel said, grinning up at Max as he approached the closest seat that Kit happened to be seated in, coincidentally the one that he had been firmly instructed to sit in for some unintelligible reason. Max attempted to acknowledge his friend but barely made out a grunt of affirmation. 

“They wanted me to sit here, so…” He said, not bothering to use any more words than necessary. He was already sick of the hot stuffy room, wanting nothing more than to be alone somewhere air conditioned, away from all the cameras. 

“Oh, well, of course sir.” Kit said, waving her arm slightly towards the seat. God she was a little shit. She’d barely sat down for two seconds before she was whispering and giggling with Daniel like a fucking teenager. It was like she needed every driver in the paddock to be salivating over her just to get on with her day. Even as she was answering the question, the way she spun her hair through her fingers and pressed her lips together was screaming ‘I know I’m hot and the only girl here, look at me’. She looked over at him after finishing her answer, still grinning from making the journalists laugh multiple times. Her smile dropped as soon as she looked at him, and it made his skin crawl. She thought he was the insufferable one?

“And Max, do you have anything to add to that?” Max turned forward, not trying to change his expression to look more open, or whatever Kit was trying to achieve when she gave every journalist, even that frog-looking German guy with the long questions, a beaming smile as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“Um, no, not really. I think team orders are bullshit, so.” He said, shrugging. It was what he really thought, and the air was so thick he was practically drinking it, so his brain felt too foggy to try and fake a nicer answer. Obviously team orders were always going to work in his favour, which, as someone who wanted to win, he wasn’t going to argue with. But if he could choose to race with or without them, he would always choose without. 

He lost interest again as someone else began answering another question about upgrades to their car. Sitting on the end of the table, he naturally turned to look at the other drivers and met Kit’s gaze again. She always had this emotion behind her eyes when she looked at him. It was sort of like, I hate you but I want to like you because I like everyone and everyone likes me so it is disappointing to me that I don’t like you and you don’t like me. And it was fucking annoying. It felt like all his teachers in primary school looking at him after he said he wasn’t doing any homework because he was going to be in F1 one day. Well, he was right, so he wasn’t going to start to change anytime soon. Even if it meant he had to have a teammate who despised him.

The room was so hot and humid by the end of the press conference that even the muggy Singaporean air felt cool and refreshing on Kit’s skin. She sighed in relief at being able to breathe in fresh air, and she wasn’t the only one. 

“Fuck, that’s nice.” Daniel said, basically drinking in the air. He lifted off his cap to comb through his hair with his fingers, the curls getting exposed for a few seconds before they were hidden once more. 

“Living in the 21st century and there was no air conditioning, I am almost looking forward to Russia.” Seb laughed, fluffing his Ferrari t-shirt to circulate the air through it.

“I’m pretty sure our engineering rooms have air con, so I’ll just have to make it there.” Kit said, placing her hands on her hips. Unfortunately, the team polo shirts were just about the least breathable thing to wear, and she was getting self conscious of how sweaty her armpits were becoming. However, thinking about all the sweaty men that circulated the paddock on a daily basis made her feel slightly better. 

“Oh, such a long walk.” Charles said sarcastically, and all of them chuckled as they began to walk to the motorhomes. Daniel fell back to talk to Max as Charles and Seb stayed in front with Kit. 

“It would suck if this place was my first podium, I don’t want to be filmed with sweaty ass hair.” Kit said. 

“You have to perfect the balaclava to cap movement, get it as fast as your start.” Seb laughed.

“Mm, I bet you were an expert at that back in the old days.” Kit said, slapping his arm gently. 

“Be quiet, child.” Seb replied. Him and Charles said their goodbyes as they headed into the Ferrari motorhome, and Kit was tempted to just power on to RedBull without waiting for Max, but she just couldn’t make herself. It was just so unnatural. She’d never disliked someone as overtly as she disliked Max, and old habits die hard. 

“You know, you can’t just call team orders bullshit.” Kit said, still in a joking mood from talking to Charles and Seb, momentarily forgetting that she was now talking to the stone lion. 

“Ha ha.” He said dryly, which was a better response than she was expecting. They feel quiet for a second, Max breathing in a few times as if he was going to say something, but then no words left his mouth. 

“I think that’s probably my favourite group for press conferences.” Kit said. ‘Why, why do you keep talking?’ she asked herself, words almost coming out before she fully thought them through. She didn’t have a problem with silence with anyone else, she just couldn’t stand feeling the anger seep through the air between them. Not to mention she couldn’t stand beside him without picturing him eating up that girl in the night club, an image she didn’t overly enjoy. 

“Clearly.” He muttered. See, why did she keep inviting these kinds of arguments? There wasn’t a single conversation she could start without it turning to bickering. 

“Do I even wanna ask what that means?” Kit sighed. While she was sick of them arguing every time they talked alone, there was something in her that wouldn’t let her give in. It was the competitive side of her, brought out by petulant little boys like Max, that got her to Formula 1 in the first place. 

“You just cannot stop yourself from flirting with every guy you see. I’m sorry I said that thing about you having no sex, I didn’t mean you should become a slut.” Max said, already getting worked up. Kit felt like she’d been slapped in the face, taken abc by the word and how it sounded so filthy in his accent. She had to physically take in a deep breath before replying, her hand literally twitching at the idea of punching him. If blood could boil, hers would be evaporating. 

“I’m sorry that I’m nice to the people we work with Max, and I’m sorry that everyone we work with is a man, but that’s the way it is. If you wanna call me a slut be my fucking guest, but don’t come crying to me when everyone hates you for being an arrogant asshole with no respect.” Kit said quietly. No one except for Max could’ve heard her, but they wouldn’t have needed to to see that she was mad. 

She entered the motorhome at double the speed of Max and headed straight to the engineering room to discuss the game plan for the next day. She didn’t look at him during the meeting, she didn’t talk to him, she didn’t say goodbye afterwards. No amount of social etiquette could make her interact with him. He had called her a slut. She didn’t even want to yell, or scream, or punch something. Her anger was just simmering away, a constant movement below the surface. The noises in and around the motorhome were jarring her, and she had never been more excited to go home and go for a run. Actually no, she would swim in the hotel pool. She needed to cool off.

As she was driving back to the hotel, a phone call began to buzz on her phone. Given she was stopped at a red light (and it was Matteo), she picked up and placed it on speaker phone in one of the cup holders. 

“Ciao.” Kit said, struggling to sound happy. 

“Ciao bella, how are you?” Matteo asked, just the sound of his voice making her more relaxed. 

“I’m fucking pissed off that’s what I am.” Despite her aggressive language, her voice stayed steady, hands almost mechanical as she put her right blinker on and turned the corner. 

“Oo, tell me more.” He laughed in response. 

“Well, basically, I was talking to some of the other drivers in the press conference today, we were having a laugh, like normal friendly shit, right? Anyway, afterwards I was unfortunately walking back to the motorhome with Max and I said that that was my favourite group to do press conferences with, and he was like, yeah clearly, and I was like, what the fuck’s that supposed to mean? I mean, I didn’t actually say that, but you get it. And then he said that I flirt with every guy I see and that I’m a slut. I mean come on man. Just write I’M A SEXIST on your forehead and get it over with. Like seriously, he’s gonna call me a slut for chatting to other drivers and not looking like I wanted to die? LIke wow, sorry I don’t look like I have a fucking pebble in my mouth 24/7. And also, how the fuck is it my fault that my only friends at work can be men? If he has such an issue with me talking to the people we work with, then he should lead some kind of fucking feminist protest movement because I quite simply cannot be fucked. Okay, sorry, I had to get that off my chest.” 

“Hahaha, it’s okay, it was funny to listen to.” Matteo laughed. Not exactly the impassioned ‘I’ll kill that guy’ reaction she was hoping for, but then again they weren’t properly dating, so she couldn’t exactly expect it from him. 

“I’m glad I entertain you.” Kit said, making her voice as light as possible despite her annoyance now boiling over, spreading over towards Matteo as well. She probably shouldn’t have picked up the phone in this state, her knuckles were turning white around the steering wheel from gripping it so hard. 

“He does sound like a, uh, what did you call him the other day? A fuckhead?” Matteo replied. 

“Yes, he is a major fuckhead. Fuckhead city.” Kit continued. 

“You will just have to outperform him, no?” Matteo said cheerfully. 

“Oh yeah, so easy, give him a shunt up the bum, send him into the wall and win the race.” Kit knew she shouldn’t joke about people crashing, but in her fiery state she would say just about anything to release some of the pressure building from all of her muscles being clenched so hard. 

“Well hey, if you are as he says you are, you might enjoy shunting his bum.” Matteo said, and although Kit laughed along with him something about Matteo’s words left a bad taste in her mouth. She was hoping it was just a language thing, and he was joking anyway. She was just on high alert, skin practically buzzing at the surface. Hopefully this wasn’t going to be a feminist-weekend (as they sometimes tended to be, because after one feminist answer the journalists just couldn’t get enough), because she didn’t know how she was going to control herself if she got asked about double standards in Formula 1. ‘Yeah, you get called a slut for talking to your friends. Really fun.’

Chapter Text

Valterri was a nice guy. She’d heard maybe three words out of his mouth, ever, but he was sweet. He held doors for people, he smiled at you in the paddock, he shared his umbrellas. He was a good example of a well-mannered driver. But right now, there had never been an uglier sight than the back of his Mercedes. Kit could practically taste the champagne she was so close to third, but she couldn’t be thinking like that yet. She still had Valterri to pass, and right now his car could’ve been 10 metres wide. Every corner, the door was shut on her. She’d been trailing him like this for a few laps now, the Russia circuit being cruel in its high barrier walls, making most tight corners risky for overtaking. The laps were ticking down, but she’d told her race engineer to only come on the radio to tell her it was the last lap and he hadn’t done so yet, so she still had time. And yet, the dirty air was seriously making the corners hard to stick, and she would either have to find the gap or back out. 

And the best part of all was that Max was behind her. And not right behind her, 5 whole seconds behind her. All she was picturing was his pissed off face, his annoyed scoff as she returned to the motorhome after a podium. She could hear him calling her a slut, and it only spurred her on more like a racehorse close to the finish line. He would have to be the one to talk about what a good job ‘the team’ had done that weekend, not her. His bored expression would turn to one of frustration and annoyance, and hopefully he’d even get so annoyed that he’d bag her out during an interview. All she wanted to do was prove she was as good as him. Not just that. She was better than him. 

“Last lap Kit, that’s last lap.”

“Yep.” She replied curtly, needing to push the hardest she’d pushed all race. She felt like she was practically touching Valterri’s rear tyres she was so close. She was just dancing around him, so close yet not close enough. But it was on the last corner, Bottas began to turn just slightly too late, allowing Kit to dart through the gap between him and the wall. She accelerated out of the corner and was almost even with Valterri’s front wing. She knew that there was nothing she could do other than switch up gears down the main straight, and she had hoped that she was just in front of the Mercedes and they crossed the line, unable to tell from within the car. P4 was fine, she’d come P4 in Singapore. But P3 was when she was in the big leagues. 

“Kit, the finish is having to be manually reviewed, but good drive today, really good, great move there at the end.” Her engineer said over the radio. She’d never had to have anything manually reviewed if it wasn’t for a penalty, and the idea made her nervous, but she wouldn’t show it. 

“Thanks guys, that was a great race.” She replied, awaiting the result with audible anticipation. 

“P3 Kit, that is P3. Well done mate. Bloody well done.” Her race engineer said, and it made her slightly happier to hear the celebration in the background, non-existent at her previous two races. 

“Woohooooo. Fuck yes. YES, FUCK! Thanks boys, fucking superb. Ring ding-a-ding ding ding ding.” Kit yelled, not knowing how to properly process the emotions she was feeling. Her chest felt like it had swelled up like a balloon. She could’ve started floating if she wanted to. She’d never felt so genuinely happy. She couldn’t tell anyone that it was mainly due to her beating Max, but god was she excited to see him for the first time in her short yet painful RedBull residency. 

“Haha, well done Kit. First podium, and it was a fucking heart stopping one. First of many.” Christian said over the radio, sobering her up slightly.

“It will be, don’t worry.” Kit replied. Her grin was uncontainable under her helmet as she pulled into the pit lane behind the P3 sign. In second was Charles and in first was Lewis, and Kit was doubly ecstatic to be able to share her first podium with Charles. She got out of the car and fixed it all up, nearly jumping on the spot from excitement. She didn’t need to jump too far, because the second Charles saw her from where he was congratulating Lewis he ran over and lifted her up. His arms were around her waist and he threw her up and down a few times before putting her feet but down on the ground. She couldn’t see his face under the helmet but could visualise his grinning face, eyes squinting and all. 

“Well done mate, seriously well done.” He said, bringing her in for another hug. He was brought away from it by the cheer of the RedBull crowd, and Kit could finally do what she’d been dreaming of for her entire life. Making a running start, Kit launched herself over the metal fence and felt a downpour of patting hands on her back and helmet, and even a few on her bum. ‘Well done’s and ‘Good job’s echoed all around her as she hugged and high fived most of the team. It seemed like a lot for P3, but a podium was enough for her to nearly tear up. 

She walked over to the small pedestals to place her helmet, balaclava and gloves on, and tried to put on the RedBull cap as quickly as possible to hide her disgusting balaclava-helmet hair. 

“Well done man, you know you’ve made history.” Lewis said as he came over to her, giving her a hug.

“I can join the club now.” Kit said, grinning up at him. She was quickly herded over to the post-race interview, her cheeks hurting from grinning ear to ear. A cheer was let out from the crowd as she came to the mic, and the sound made her chest swell up. 

“Kit, wow, what an overtake in that last corner, what was going through your mind?” The presenter said, and she had to physically restrain herself from saying something about Max. 

“I just really wanted the podium, I mean I think that going into every race, but I was so close for what felt like a few years out there, so by the end I knew that I only had one chance left and the gap just opened up for me. And I mean, pedal to the metal is the only way I can describe going down that last straight.” Kit laughed, only now realising she was slightly out of breath. 

“And of course it’s an amazing feat, you are the first woman to ever be on a Formula 1 podium.” The crowd let out an even louder cheer, and Kit couldn’t stop herself from smiling even wider if it was even possible. 

“Yeah hey, I mean, I’m not special, there are so many talented female drivers who could’ve been in this position, and I’m just so grateful to everyone who’s helped me get here. I mean, I don’t want to say it was luck because I’ve worked hard my whole life for this, and that would totally discredit all the sacrifices my parents have made and obviously all the different teams I’ve driven for over the years, but there have been a few turning points that just seemed to be miracles. So honestly, I’m just so proud to be that marker of how far we’ve come as a sport, but also be here to remind everyone of how far we still have to go.” Kit said cheerfully, face properly hurting now. 

“I mean, it is truly something for the history books, thank you so much for chatting with us.” And that was her cue to leave. She practically bounded to the waiting room, plaits swinging as she walked. She passed a few other drivers on her way there, but Max was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, that fun part of her afternoon could wait. 

“Kit, are we gonna see a shoey?” Lewis asked as they drank from the water bottles in the small holding room. Kit nearly spat out her water from laughing. 

“God, I didn’t even think about it. Maybe I’ll save it for my first win.” She laughed, already seeing how bad it would look if she took away all the attention from the other two after only coming P3 (if she hadn’t already). 

“You are a party pooper.” Charles said, chugging more water down. 

“I mean, feel free boys.” Kit replied, holding up her hands in surrender. 

“I think I’ll wait for your first win too.” Lewis laughed with the other two. 

When the music began to play to drink the champagne, Kit wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t what she got. Both Lewis and Charles shook their bottles ferociously and manoeuvred her to the centre of the stage to spray her in full view. Her own champagne bottle bubbled with futility, nothing compared to the nearly hose level pressure coming from the other two. If her drenched race suit wasn’t bad enough, Lewis and Charles decided to begin pouring their champagne over her head. She took off her cap and ran her fingers back over her hair, the bang sections being swept back and stuck down by champagne. The bubbles felt strange gliding over her skin, and she opened her mouth to try and catch some of it. The alcoholic taste on her tongue nearly made her cry with satisfaction, and she leant her head forward with her eyes closed to shake away the tears, wet plaits whipping Charles and Lewis in the face and eliciting a laugh from the three teams watching from below. 

Kit leant over the balcony and attempted to shake some more spray out of her bottle, achieving a bit of a projectile over the mechanics and engineers below. She lifted up her arm in a fist and shook it in victory, nearly catching herself out for being far too excited for P3 but deciding to just go with it anyway. The song was fading out so she retrieved her soaked P3 cap from the floor where she’d dropped it and carried her bottle off the stage with the other two, ready to have a quick shower before press. 

“So, who was the first person you called once you were off the podium?” Natalie from Sky Sports asked within the media pen. 

“Well my entire family lives in Australia and it’s about 1:30am there, so no one yet.” Kit laughed, relishing in the feeling of fresh pants and shirt, warm jumper, clean hair, and a podium under her belt. 

“Can’t argue with that logic, but I expect there will be a few happy Aussies tonight.” Natalie joked. “Is the team happy with today’s result?”

“I think so, I mean, I’d hope so.” Kit said, smiling despite her real thoughts. “We haven’t had our debrief yet but I’d say that spirits are fairly high, it hasn’t taken me long to get my first podium so I’d say it’s a good sign for the rest of the year.”

“Even with Max down in P5?” She asked, and Kit felt her face drop despite trying to stay neutral looking. She couldn’t care less about Max. 

“I mean, it would’ve been great to get more points for the team, but at the end of the day it’s my race and I’m happy with my result. This result has basically been reversed for the team all year, and I don’t think me or Pierre in P5 has made the team disappointed.” Kit said, trying not to sound too stern. Moments ago she’d never been happier, and now she was trying to regain that disposition. She wanted to see Max looking annoyed, she didn’t want to talk about feeling bad for him, because she didn’t.

“Do you think it’s true that your teammate is your biggest competition?” Natalie asked, and Kit wished she’d kept her mouth shut so she could’ve kept talking about herself. It was her first podium, she was allowed to be selfish for a bit. 

“Yeah, probably. But I don’t view getting a better result than Max differently to getting my first podium, because P3 is P3 and it’s the achievement that matters.” Kit said, lying through her teeth. 

“Well, congrats again, we’d better let you go now.” Natalie said in conclusion. 

“Thanks, yeah.” Kit said, now slightly deflated. Her post-race press conference let her get back some of her initial excitement, with congrats coming in from every interviewer who asked her a question and getting to be with Lewis and Charles in the room. Charles even spent most of his first answer (to a question that was unrelated to Kit) giving her praise far too high for just a first podium, and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling wide. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel after she finally won a race. 

“Debrief moved forward. Meeting room ASAP.” Kit saw the text on her phone from a few minutes before from Christian as she left the press conference. Such a cheery man. 

“I’ve gotta run. See you guys later.” Kit said, accepting a shoulder hug/squeeze from Charles and a little shake alongside it. 

The meeting room was sombre, Max already seated with his arms crossed over his chest. Not having been doused in champagne, his race suit was half off with his top fireproofs exposed. He looked mad, like genuinely angry. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were pointed straight at her, cold and harsh. His mouth was downturned and his nostrils were flaring. This wasn’t annoyed Max, this was pissed off Max. 

“Right, Kit, take a seat. Now, we’re gonna save the engineering debrief until tomorrow, because I really can’t be bothered to deal with that as well as this shit.” Christian began, rubbing his forehead between his fingers. Kit looked around briefly at the other people sitting at the table who he hadn’t really taken in before, and realised it was the marketing team, as well as the other most important people besides Christian. Fuck. “I just want you two to watch this, in full please.” Christian opened his phone and pushed it in front of Max, gesturing for Kit to move to the other side of the table and sit beside him. Max crossed his arms even tighter over his chest, so Kit turned up the sound on the phone to hear the sound from an Instagram video. 

“...at the end of the day it’s my race and I’m happy with my result.” Kit heard her own voice echo from the phone. She noticed in retrospect how she stressed the my in my race and it made her cringe at herself. The video then cut to a press conference, the camera soon focusing on Max. 

“So Max, P5 for you but first podium for your new teammate, how’s everyone feeling?” Will Buxton said out of shot. 

“I’m sure Kit’s feeling happy, but uh, me and my side of the garage, we’re not happy with P5. So I’d say disappointed.” Max said on the screen.

“So you’re not happy for your teammate?” Will pressed on. 

“Not really. I don’t really care what she does, to be honest.” Max’s words resounded through the room as the video began to play again automatically, and Kit reached out to mute the video. She didn’t feel annoyed at Max, that would wait for later. She felt sick at the harsh gaze of Christian from the head of the meeting table. 

“How many views does that video have?” Christian asked quietly. 

“Um, 2.5 million.” Kit said, trying to stay assertive but struggling under her boss’s gaze. 

“That’s fucking right!” Christian said, slamming his fist down on the table. Kit thought she noticed Max flinch, but it was probably just her own jumpiness. “But don’t worry, it gets worse.” He pulled back his phone, tapped the screen a few times and then slid it back across to Kit. “At first I thought it was just a bit of a joke, but this shit is fucking everywhere.” He said, leaning back in his chair and letting his head hang back, hands over his eyes. The phone screen showed a YouTube search of ‘max verstappen kit kelly’ and every single result was negative.

9 minutes of kit kelly and max verstappen hating each other

max verstappen and kit kelly shade compilation

redbull teammates hating each other | seb and mark, max and kit

mad max and angry kat compilation

max verstappen and kit kelly argument

That last one caught Kit’s attention, and she clicked on the video out of instinct. Christian still appeared to be post-verbal out of anger, and Max was practically breaking the skin over his knuckles from how hard his fists were clenched. The video was blurry and you couldn’t hear anything, but Max and Kit were clearly annoyed and getting in each other’s faces. The video continued up until Max stormed off at the touch of Lewis’ hand on his arm. He looked more angry than Kit had ever seen him face to face, although turning to look at him now he was getting pretty close. 

“Oh great, you found my favourite.” Christian said, audibly still seething with rage. “Now, I don’t care what you do. If you have to not see each other unless it’s completely necessary, if you have to go to occupational therapy to stop you from rolling your eyes at each other, quite frankly I don’t care, but I’m fucking sick of this whole petty fighting and shit talking each other thing and either you cut it out or you can look for another seat next year.” Kit knew that the last part was directed at her, even though Christian couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them. He would rather shoot himself in the groin than let Max go somewhere else. 

“Yeah, alright.” Kit said, barely above a grunt. 

“Max, anything to say for yourself?” Christian said, and it was the first time she had ever seen him outwardly angry at Max. 

“Yeah fine, whatever.” He said, barely opening his mouth. 

“God, you’re both like bickering teenagers, I swear to God.” Christian sighed. Kit bit back the retort that they were both 21, and so he could hardly be surprised. They hadn’t lived enough to learn to check their egos. She had a mildly intrusive thought that reminded her that it was Max’s 22nd birthday the next day, but she didn’t think that she would have any responsibility to get him something. 

“I don’t see why it fucking matters, I mean Lewis and Nico fucking tried to kill each other at every opportunity. At least we keep our shit off the track.” Max said, not able to contain himself anymore. Kit would’ve smiled smugly at the sight of his ears going red had she not been so annoyed. 

“It fucking matters because I fucking say so, okay Max? Nico and Lewis didn’t argue with each other in the paddock in full view, and both of them were smart enough to never say what they were actually thinking. You two, you may as well be out there saying you don’t give a fuck about the team as long as you get your way. I don’t give a fuck if that’s what you really think, just keep it to yourself.” Christian yelled and then waved his hand at the two. They didn’t move, still unsure if the meeting was really over given the marketing team hadn’t said a word yet.

“Go, leave, we’ll sort the problem out without you. You’re both liabilities at this point.” Christian sighed, and Kit and Max swiftly exited the room, not wanting to be scrutinised any longer. Kit was going to say something but stopped herself. If they were going to stop clawing at each other’s throats all day long, then they really would have to stop talking all together. They walked in silence to their respective driver rooms and said nothing as they split up, but Max’s slammed door spoke for itself. She even heard him kick the wall a few times. What a fucking dramatic little boy, she though to herself. All this just because he got beaten by a girl. 

Chapter Text

Saturday night in Monaco. You would think that a Formula 1 driver and a top 100 tennis player would already be out and about, not having come home yet from the wild Friday night before. And yet it was 6pm, and Kit was already beginning to fall asleep on Matteo’s chest (their previous activities didn’t help much in the matter). They were both wearing baggy t-shirts and trackies, and Matteo’s hand ran up and down the loose material as they watched an NRL game on the TV (Kit’s suggestion, obviously). 

“I don’t really understand this game, I cannot lie.” Matteo said softly. 

“Each team gets six tackles and then they have to give the ball over, easy.” Kit murmured, eyes fixated on the kicker for the opposing team, willing him to miss the conversion kick. 

“Yeah, okay, I get that part.” Matteo said jokingly. 

“Well, then you basically know all the rules already.” Kit smiled up at him, hoping her adoration would let her keep it on the TV. 

“Mm, basically.” He laughed, leaning down to kiss her. She never got used to the way that he wasn’t scared to show her affection. Whenever they were together he was holding her hand or her waist, kissing her on the cheek, it was all very romantic. She still wasn’t sure if they were exclusive yet, because it definitely was from her side, but part of her didn’t want to ask to confirm, being very comfortable in his arms without the stress of what was going to happen next. He was her only hobby outside of Formula 1, as sad as that sounded. 

“Don’t get that.” Matteo said into Kit’s hair as her phone began to buzz. After all, it was a Saturday night between race weekends, and after Russia she thought that the whole team needed a bit of time to decompress. The buzzing stopped momentarily before starting back up again, and Kit gave Matteo a sorry look before leaning forward to pick up the phone. His hands stayed on her waist and his mouth went to her neck, and she thanked god when she saw that it was Daniel calling and not someone who would care if they heard smooching in the back of the call. 

“Hey Danny boy.” Kit said as she picked up the phone. 

“Hey Kit, got any plans tonight?” He asked joyfully. Clearly Matteo could hear him through the phone speaker and he decided to start trying to leave a hickey too high up on her neck for even the modest team polos to cover.

“Um, no, I mean sort of, but not super set in stone. Depends what you wanna do.” Kit said, trying to sound natural despite Matteo doing some of his best work, clearly not seeing this as ‘doing nothing.’ 

“I can hear your lover boy in the background, it’s okay.” Daniel laughed, and Kit felt Matteo smile against her neck, pinching her waist softly. 

“He’s not...okay fine, yes. What do you wanna do anyway?” Kit said, giving up on trying to lie. Everyone and their mother knew about her and Matteo, even if they didn’t fully understand what their relationship was (which, to be fair, neither did Kit). 

“It’s Max’s birthday, duh.” Daniel said.

“His birthday was on Monday.” Kit said, both confused about Daniel’s dates and why it concerned her. 

“Yeah, I know that. I don’t exactly think Monday was overly enjoyable for him, as you would know, so he’s doing something tonight. Anyway, you are his teammate so you should probably come.” Daniel continued. 

“Did he say he wanted me to come?” Kit asked sceptically. 

“Well, not exactly, but I told him you were gonna come because I was gonna ask you and he didn’t like, flip a table or anything.” Daniel laughed, but Kit failed to find it funny. 

“I don’t know Daniel, I mean Christian literally told us to stay away from each other if that would stop us fighting, and my lover boy here is making some very convincing arguments.” Kit said, laughing as Matteo laid her down on the couch, moving his hands up her stomach and pressing kisses around her boobs (she was braless, as per his request). 

“Bring him too! Actually, then you’ll be so distracted that you won’t even think about fighting with Max. Come on, please? You’ll feel left out if you don’t.” Daniel said matter-of-factly. 

“Really? Who else is going?” Kit asked. She didn’t even know what they were doing yet. 

“Oh, I don’t know, just about 3000 of his closest friends. We’re all going to his apartment for a little soirée.” Daniel laughed, emphasising his ‘French-ness’, as he would say. 

“Yeah, sounds really low key.” Kit said sarcastically. Daniel was paused expectantly. “Yeah, fine, we’ll come. What time should we get there?” Kit said, feeling Matteo nip the soft skin of her stomach in disagreement.

“It formally begins at 8, so maybe 9, you’ll blend in that way.” Daniel laughed. 

“Is it like casual, or are you wearing a button up shirt?” Kit asked. 

“Mm, button up shirt but with jeans, that kinda vibe.” Daniel replied. 

“Yeah, alright then. And you’re sure it’s fine if I bring Matteo?” Kit asked. His head turned up at the sound of his name, and Kit brought her free hand down to entwine in his hair. God, he was just like a puppy. 

“Yes, definitely. I’m excited to meet the other tall, dark, handsome Italian in your life.” Daniel said, basically cackling on the other side. 

“Yeah okay, don’t flatter yourself.” Kit rolled her eyes. 

“See you soon.” He said hopefully. 

“Yep, see ya.” She said, hanging up the phone. Matteo raised himself so that they could actually look at each other properly. 

“How do you feel about going to my teammate’s 22nd birthday party?” Kit asked, reaching her arms up to wrap around the back of his neck. 

“It doesn’t sound like I have a choice.” Matteo smiled so that she knew he wasn’t actually annoyed. 

“Well, maybe I could convince you.” Kit said, biting her lip before pushing on his shoulders to try and make him lie down. 

“Oh yeah?” Matteo grinned in anticipation as her hands began roaming under his shirt and up his chest. 

“Mm, I can be quite persuasive.” Kit said, still smiling wide as she tried to be sexy. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you.” Matteo said, hands coming up to rest on her waist. It sufficed to say that he was definitely more agreeable after her sales pitch. 

“Merda bella, you look nice.” Matteo said as she opened her apartment door. He’d driven to pick her up after dropping her off a few hours before to get ready. They’d both agreed not to drink, mainly because Matteo had to play tennis the next day and Kit wanted to be supportive. She was wearing a leather mini skirt that was just tight enough around her hips and loose enough around her thighs to make her look hot, but not like a bartender at a nightclub. She had a patterned halter top on that tied behind her neck, and a light cropped black cardigan over the top. She was also wearing converse, which she hoped made her look casual enough for the specific yet vague dress code she was given by Daniel. 

“So do you.” Kit replied, reaching out to wrap her hands around Matteo’s waist, finding nothing more attractive than him wearing white (so it was lucky he was a tennis player). 

“You know, you don’t have to stay sober tonight, I’ll cope.” He said, arm coming up around her shoulders as they walked towards the elevator. 

“Nah, I do stupid things when I’m drunk anyway.” Kit said, trying to erase the mistake of Louis from her mind. 

“Maybe that’s a good thing. I think I’d like to see you dance on a table.” Matteo laughed and Kit gave him a slap on the chest. 

“I’ve never danced on a table and I never will.” Kit replied, pressing the button for the lobby. 

“Never say never, carino.” Matteo grinned. 

The ‘soirée’ had appeared to have turned Max’s apartment into a dive bar slash night club by the time Kit and Matteo arrived at 9:20pm. Daniel was mixing drinks with faux expertise behind the kitchen island, and there were about 70 people milling around the huge penthouse, with a small dancefloor having opened up next to the large windows overlooking the city. Kit was sure that that portion of the apartment would expand in size and energy as the night went on. She locked eyes with Charles who was chatting in a group of people with his arm around his girlfriend and he waved her and Matteo over, the pair clearly not recognising anyone else yet. 

“Kit, I did not know you were coming!” Charles said with a slightly raised voice. He was mildly tipsy, as indicated by his excitement at seeing her and Matteo. 

“I was a last minute invitation.” She laughed, giving him a hug. 

“And who is this?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“This is Matteo, he’s my, uh…” Kit siad, trailing off. Maybe they should have had that conversation after all. 

“Boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you.” Matteo said, holding out his hand to Charles for a shake. His confidence made Kit’s stomach twist with butterflies, especially as she felt his hand tighten around her waist. Boyfriend wasn’t bad. 

“Charles, nice to meet you too. And this is my girlfriend, Charlotte.” He said. As Charlotte and Matteo hugged in greeting, Charles gave Kit a suggestive yet simultaneously questioning look. She just smiled coyly in response. 

“Charles, tu veux danser?” Charlotte asked, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Okay, we’re gonna go dance, see you guys later.” Charles said as Charlotte led him to the makeshift dance floor that was becoming more and more popular by the minute. 

“They seem nice.” Matteo said as he led them towards the kitchen in search of something non-alcoholic. Kit wouldn’t give in to temptation if she just had something else to hold for the evening. 

“They are, Charles is one of my best friends.” Kit smiled. 

“Hey, what about me?” Daniel said, now within ear shot. He had just finished making a drink for a girl that could’ve been Margot Robbie in a different light, and Kit noticed the phone number inked onto his hand. 

“Matteo, this is Daniel. Daniel, Matteo.” Kit said, watching happily as they introduced themselves to each other, big smiles on each of their faces. While looking distinctly different, their similarities were disturbingly noticeable as they stood next to each other. Dark curly hair, tan skin, dark stubbly facial hair, big brown eyes, and not to mention that Roman nose.

It wasn’t surprising to her when Matteo asked, “You are Italian?” Daniel and Kit both laughed at his question.

“My last name’s Ricciardo, but I was born in Oz, just like Kit.” He said, signature smile beaming. 

“So disappointing. Who am I gonna cheer for when I watch the races now?” Matteo said, laughing as Kit poked him in the side.

“Watch yourself.” Kit said. 

“You guys want a drink? I’ve sort of asserted myself as bartender here.” Daniel said.

“Mm, I wonder why.” Kit said, nodding towards the number on his hand, noticing the +1 that meant she lived in America and most definitely could’ve actually been Margot Robbie. 

“Hey, just perks of the job. So…” He said, gesturing to the array of spirits and mixers in front of him. 

“We’re not drinking tonight.” Kit said, her hand coming to rest on Matteo’s back, not wanting him to feel guilty about her sobriety. 

“Wow, get yourself a boyfriend and you’re already getting soft, I see how it is.” Daniel laughed. Kit nearly said ‘he’s not my boyfriend’ out of instinct, but stopped herself and smiled when she realised she didn’t have to. She leaned her head into Matteo’s side, her boyfriend’s side. She was giddy just thinking the word. 

“Yeah, yeah. Is there coke or anything?” Kit said, scanning the room but seeing nothing she could drink. 

“I think Max had some cans in the fridge for an emergency.” Daniel laughed and Kit rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll go get them, you stay here.” Matteo said. Max’s kitchen was surprisingly long, so Matteo did actually have to walk a bit to reach the fridge. Daniel said nothing, just giving her a smile with something going unsaid behind his eyes. 

“What?” Kit asked. He didn’t answer, just smiled wider. “What, smartass?” She laughed, taking her cardigan off as she did so and slinging it over her bag to rest against her side. The apartment had grown several degrees warmer than outside due to all the moving, talking bodies. 

“Nothing. I’m just happy for you.” Daniel said, and it was so genuine that it made Kit a little bit uncomfortable, but in a good way.

“Shut up.” Kit said, smiling wide and hitting him softly on the arm. 

“So you’re seriously not drinking?” Daniel said in near disbelief.

“Nope, Matteo has a match tomorrow and I didn’t want him to stay home cos he would be the only sober one, so.” Kit said, shrugging. 

“Aww, it’s beautiful.” Daniel said sarcastically. 

“Fuck you.” Kit laughed. She noticed that it had taken Matteo a strangely long amount of time to get to the fridge and back, so she looked through the sea of people to try and spot him. It wasn’t hard given his 6’5 stature, but she couldn’t make out who he was talking to. Given his furrowed brows, he didn’t seem to be having a pleasant conversation. “I’ll be back, I think Matteo needs some help.” Kit said to Daniel before manoeuvring her way through the crowd of bodies.   

She saw Max before she heard him, and the sight made her stomach drop, before it began clenching in anger. He was clearly off his face, and talking to Matteo in his Mad Max tone: stony eyes, sharp sentences, and hands that looked like they were close to giving a push on the chest. Not good. 

“Hey Max, happy birthday.” Kit said as she approached and wound her arm around Matteo’s waist, interrupting their conversation as if she couldn’t tell that they were arguing. 

“Why did you bring this dick? I barely let Daniel invite you.” Max said angrily.

“Jesus Max, calm your tits. This is Matteo, you met before in Italy. He’s my boyfriend.” Kit said. She was trying to not get as angry as she normally would, partly because it was his birthday, but mostly because she could feel Matteo getting progressively tenser beside her. 

“Boyfriend? Jesus fucking,” He scoffed, not finishing his sentence, turning away for a moment as he rolled his eyes. “What the fuck is doing in my fridge?” He asked.

“Getting coke. Is that allowed, or did we need to bring our own?” Kit replied, losing her patience. This was the last straw, he had some serious anger management issues and she wasn’t going to let him treat other people as shitty as he treated her. 

“You just came to my house to be a bitch, did you? You don’t get enough of that on the weekend?” Max said. Kit knew that the two of them could go at it for hours, so she had to bite the bullet and give in, even if it meant giving him the last word. 

“We’re gonna go dance, okay?” Kit said, trying to be neutral and not elicit any more aggression from him. Coke-less, Kit grabbed Matteo’s hand and led them over to the living area and luckily found a spot to sit down. She wasn’t exactly in a dancing mood. 

“He’s, uh…” Matteo began as they dropped down onto the couch, Kit leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry, we can leave.” Kit said, looking up at Matteo apologetically. 

“No, it’s okay, it’s just unfortunate I actually had to meet Mad Max himself.” Matteo laughed, and Kit felt a little bit better. 

“I mean, it is his birthday.” Kit smiled. 

“Very true. He just doesn’t seem real from your stories. In my head he was a little red faced man with angry black eyebrows.” Matteo said, waving his free hand around in front of him. 

“And instead he’s a little red faced man with blonde eyebrows. How disappointing for you.” Kit said, sitting up slightly straighter as she noticed George take a seat at a couch nearby with a girl she’d never seen before. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of Matteo, but she didn’t want George to go around spreading rumours. Not that he would, given he sent Kit a brief smile before being enraptured at the sight of an attractive woman, but still.

“Look, he seems to be having a better time now.” Matteo said, pointing to the dancefloor that had seemed to have nearly tripled, and Kit could see why. Max had joined the mass of bodies (which seemed peculiar to Kit, given that’s where she said she would be heading) and was currently at the centre of attention as In da Club played over the extensive sound system. 

“Good, maybe he can relax a bit and hop off my dick next weekend.” Kit muttered. 

“Where are you racing?” Matteo asked, now drawing circles on her exposed shoulder with his fingers.

“Japan, Russia was our last European race of the season.” Kit said.

“So when will you be back?” Matteo asked, any joking tone remaining now completely gone from his voice. 

“Well, I come back from Japan for a weekend off.” Kit said, fiddling with her fingers. She forgot that this was still a relatively new relationship, the sudden wave of shyness overcoming her. “Then I’m away for a month in America. But I’ll be back before Abu Dhabi as well.” Kit continued. They probably should’ve consulting the whole scheduling situation before introducing themselves as a couple, but they were young and stupid. These things happened.

“I’ll miss you, bella.” Matteo said, bringing her in to kiss her head.

“We shouldn’t talk about this, it’s depressing. Dance?” Kit said after turning her head to check that Max had left the dancefloor. He was now doing shots with Daniel and chants for poker were breaking out, so Kit assumed that they’d be safe for a while.

“Okay.” Matteo said, his face cracking into a grin. He took her hand and led her to the corner, dancing with less energy than the people around them but with much more physical contact. Kit felt like a couple out of the scene from Dirty Dancing; one of Matteo’s legs was in between hers, his hands on her waist, and they moved their hips in time with the music, not quite grinding on each other but making it clear that they were there together. Kit didn’t exactly mind, given the looks she saw being sent Matteo’s way by the significant attractive female population at this party. 

Kit began to sing along as The Boy Is Mine started to play with a wide smile on her face, and she watched as Matteo threw his head back laughing, the sight of his exposed neck making her stomach flip over. Kit reached up to rest her hands on his shoulders, the action causing her shirt to ride up and his hands to be on her bare skin. Matteo pulled her even closer to him, and Kit could’ve been on another planet for how little attention she was paying everyone else. 

Too many minutes passed in that position, with Matteo leaning down occasionally to whisper something in Kit’s ear or give her neck a gentle bite. It wasn’t until she heard someone say (rather loudly, although it definitely wasn’t meant to be overheard) “Fuck me, what I would do to get in their cockpits.” that Kit was brought out of their bubble. 

She turned her head to the side and saw Max and Daniel playing limbo with a pool cue, shirts becoming more and more unbuttoned. Kit could only roll her eyes at the pair. She’d been so preoccupied with gazing at Matteo in awe that she hadn’t realised she needed the bathroom badly (which was surprising given she had drunk absolutely nothing since arriving). 

“I’ll be back, just need a wee.” Kit said, pulling down Matteo to say it into his ear. She giggled at his thumbs up and awkward head panning, looking for one of the few people he’d been introduced to to keep him company. Locking eyes on Charles and joining his conversation, Kit no longer felt guilty for leaving Matteo to his own devices. 

It was easy to find the bathroom, but that didn’t stop Kit from marvelling at the expanse and luxury of Max’s apartment. While sitting on the toilet she considered the fact that he had been earning an F1 salary since he was 17, and living in Monaco that was sure to go to good use. Even the toilet flushing was expensive sounding. The hand soap smelt like a botanical garden, and the hand towel was soft enough to sleep in. Kit couldn’t imagine Max buying any of this stuff for himself, but as far as she was aware he didn’t have a girlfriend to do it for fun. As she exited the bathroom she spotted Matteo enthralled in a conversation with Charles that appeared to be in Italian from the extensive hand gestures going on, so she decided to let him make a new friend and give herself some time to explore. 

She wasn’t sure if it was an invasion of privacy, but she couldn’t help herself from walking down the hallway and peering into the rooms. One was a home gym, another a gaming room, and another a pool room, whose very drunk occupants made Kit feel better about her skulking. There were glass French doors at the end of the short corridor that led out to a balcony, and Kit thought that the people she would probably intrude on making out would repent for her wandering around. 

As soon as the doors shut behind her the quiet of the night engulfed her, with the music fading to a dull thud and the air being filled with the infrequent sound of cars and other distant parties. It took her a moment to realise that there was someone talking out there, and she stepped back instinctually out of fear, still going about this as if she was performing a heist. It took her even longer to realise that the voice was Max’s, his tone slightly different when speaking Dutch. He was clearly on the phone, as his short and angry sentences were interspersed with long silences. Kit was now too nervous to move, not wanting to open the doors back up again and risk Max hearing her this time.

“Rot toch op Jos! Waarom maakt het uit dat ze een meid is? Ze heeft me één keer verslagen, oké, ik ben nog steeds de nummer één coureur. Dat podium was sowieso een toevalstreffer.” Kit obviously had no idea what was being said, except for the words Jos and podium, and that was enough for her to grasp the topic of conversation. She had a rare pang of sympathy for Max. She’d never met Jos, but from what she’d heard he was a douche at best, and the fact that Max was probably drunk out of his mind at his own party and still having to justify himself over the phone to his father was something so depressing that even Kit couldn’t stay angry at him in that moment. 

“Ja, ze kunnen komen, ik zal wat pasjes halen...Oké, prima, wat dan ook. Ik zie je in Japan. Doei.” Kit heard footsteps and realised that Max must’ve hung up the phone, so she spun quickly on her heel and headed back inside before he rounded the corner, hopefully not seeing it was her. She’d just repassed the door to the bathroom when she heard her name being called from behind her. 

“What are you doing?” Max said, back to his normal levels of annoyance. It was impressive recovery time, given she’d just heard him at arguably level 8 out of 10 on the scale. 

“Bathroom.” Kit replied. Max didn’t continue his line of questioning, roughly brushing past her to rejoin the party. It was extremely difficult to suppress the flare of irritation she felt rise at him, but she tried her best given the situation she’d just vaguely interpreted. 

“You took a while.” Matteo said as Kit joined him in the circle of people chatting, hand going around her as if on reflex now. 

“I had a bit of a look around. Max is fucking loaded.” Kit laughed, trying not to feel guilty about it. 

“He’s almost making as much as a tennis player.” Matteo grinned, and Kit just rolled her eyes.

“Calm down hot shot, I’m not exactly on the bones of my ass either.” 

“Whose ass are we talking about?” A very drunk Charles interjected, pitching forward to an almost dangerous angle before Charlotte pushed him back up. 

“Easy there tiger.” Kit laughed, and enjoyed the feeling of Matteo at her side and her real friends surrounding her. After Russia, she’d forgotten that she actually liked most of the people in her life. That most of the time she should feel like this, not on the verge of ripping someone’s head off.

Chapter Text

Kit flew into Japan on Tuesday night following two days of sitting in front of the TV, watching her literal boyfriend play tennis in Belgium, sending him text messages through the match for him to check in the evening when he’d finished working. She was trying to send herself into the race weekend as relaxed as possible given there was no longer any room for snarky comments or angry side eyes or bitchy team radio messages. And as she wasn’t expecting the same kind of self control from Max, this inner zen she was cultivating would be necessary to withstand the fire that licked up inside her anytime she saw him. Because at the end of the day, it was always going to be her seat on the line, not his. 

The seven hour time difference meant that all of Wednesday was spent in a semi-vegetative haze, being herded around to press activities by far too many people to be useful. Given that they had Honda engines in their cars, this was sort of like a home grand prix, or at least that was how it was being treated by the marketing team. Max was probably off conquering the other 9 billion Honda factories or offices, because by location number 4 Kit felt like it would never end. She’d luckily mastered both the art of sleeping on the plane and not looking like it, so her kilowatt smile was as easy to turn on as breathing. Shaking hands, high fives, photos, signing things, nodding along appreciatively as she toured various buildings, the whole shooting match was like second nature by now. 

After the buildings, they moved onto the streets of Tokyo. While she probably would’ve been unrecognisable normally, the RedBull polo and cap, and crowd of similarly dressed people holding cameras around her meant that she was being approached every 2 seconds for a photo by people who didn’t have any idea who she was. Then they had to get to the airport, get on a plane for Suzuka, do some more PR rounds at the circuit, and then, finally, she was able to sleep in a real bed. While she was practically dead on her feet, Kit had never slept better.

When she woke up to the feeling of the Suzuka sunshine tickling her skin on Thursday morning, she actually felt calm and ready to face the day of press ahead. Even when she heard a door slam and knew that Max must’ve been on his way out, the thought of his emotionless, irritating face staring down at his phone barely even stirred the anger settled at the bottom of her stomach. The hotel duna was so soft and the fresh smell of clean linen was so nice that she could almost forget that she would have to spend the whole day appearing to tolerate Max. 

The strong water pressure of the shower head felt comfortingly intense on her skin, the hotel soap, shampoo and conditioner making her smell like a freshly picked floral arrangement. She decided to fully indulge herself in the little spa fantasy by actually using the fluffy white towel robe hanging up in the wardrobe as she blow dried her hair. The warmth on her scalp made her feel sleepy enough to fall asleep sitting upright, but she stopped herself knowing that if she taunted herself with the idea of going back to bed, the day would just be that bit more painful. Her RedBull polo and jeans seemed to feel more comfortable than usual, and she had a feeling that today would be a good day. 

“Morning.” George said politely when he saw Kit enter the lobby. She took a place next to him as they both waited for their ‘people’ to double check something at the front desk.

“Morning. How are you?” Kit replied, a smile lingering on her face from her morning of self care.

“Not too bad actually. Not as good as you though, little miss podium finisher.” He grinned, Kit laughing at the compliment. She wasn’t too sure how else to respond. 

“Guess I’m playing with the big boys now.” She said. Like something out of a bad 50s comedy movie, the elevator doors opened to reveal Max in just that moment. Following him out of the elevator was what appeared to be a young, happy family, and it took Kit a moment to register who it actually was. Well, who the father was anyway. Jos Verstappen, who she’d only seen from a distance until now, was walking hand in hand with a little girl who looked to be about 5 or 6 years old. Next to her was a woman who was older than Max, but not old enough to have been his mother. Kit was trying to mentally connect the dots in her head when she was shaken out of her daze by a RedBull employee pointing her in the direction of the car she would be driving to the circuit. 

“So we have the press conference first, then the usual round of the media pen, then we have a special interview with Will Buxton about your podium, then we’re filming our episode of grill the grid which should be a bit of fun, then there’s about an hour free before a strategy meeting. And that’s it.” One of the PR managers said from the passenger seat, unfazed as Kit sped down suburban streets as if she was already on the circuit. The day seemed more packed than usual, especially with the activity that not only required Max’s involvement, but was designed to show off their bond as teammates. It was like the marketing team wanted to tempt fate with their timing. 

The special car park for the teams was filling up steadily as Kit arrived, and she noticed Max and his father emerging from a nearby Honda sports car, the woman helping the girl out of the backseat. ‘That must be her mother’ Kit thought, seeing the distasteful expression she wore as she looked at Jos morphing into one of pure motherly adoration at the sight of her daughter. Max seemed to be trying to pretend that none of them were there, which seemed difficult as his father pulled him in by the shoulder and began muttering something with the full intensity of a strategist pre-race. 

“Kit, you sort of ditched me there before.” George said, coming up behind her as they walked towards the gates to the paddock. 

“Sorry G, I got distracted.” Kit said, not even noticing her eyes drift back to the mis-matched clan of Verstappens. 

“Oh, I see.” George replied knowingly, his tone dropping. 

“What?” Kit pestered, beginning to poke his arm when he left too long a gap. 

“It’s nothing, it’s probably not my place to say.” George said in his classically polite, British way. 

“Would I be able to google it?” Kit said interrogatively. George didn’t reply, and Kit smiled even wider at her success. 

“Yeah, fine, alright. Jos, Max’s dad, started dating that woman when we were still in karting, probably like 14 or 15. Anyway, all this shit went down, like apparently he tried to kill her or something. Like, serious shit. And Max didn’t really talk about it, but you could tell it was bad. Then Jos knocked her up, next thing you know they’re married. And that’s the kid, obviously. But they got divorced a couple of years ago, so to be honest I’m pretty surprised to see them here.” George said in one hurried, low breath. Kit was still reeling from the second sentence by the time he had finished, and took a few moments to respond properly. 

“Jesus christ.” She breathed out. Okay, so maybe not a proper response. “Poor kid.” Kit continued, looking at the innocent smile on the girl’s face, not processing the tense and hate filled looks being shared between her mother and her father. 

“I know. I think she’s only met Max a couple of times, which is pretty fucked given she’s five.” George replied. 

“She seems to like him though.” Kit said softly, watching as the girl giggled at Max placing his cap on her head, even though it looked like he was just using it as a ploy to escape his dad’s clutches. 

“Who doesn’t?” George said, letting out a laugh as Kit elbowed him in the side, rolling her eyes. 

“Ha ha.” Kit replied sarcastically. It did make her slightly less irritated when she saw Max retreat back onto his phone, knowing that he would be having to deal with uncomfortable family tension all weekend, but then again old habits die hard and she couldn’t help but remember the young fan at the airport back in Belgium. How Max looked as if he couldn’t have been any more inconvenienced to be taking pictures with the kids. Hopefully it was just the presence of his dad turning him into this stony faced character. 

She was in a press conference with Lando, George, Seb, and Lewis, and although it started off with her out of the limelight it didn’t stay that way for long. After a few bland questions about her thoughts on the track and the car and how the team would perform, the floor was opened up and she was truly tested to her PR limits. 

“A question for Kit. In Russia we saw some tension post-race between you and Max. Is that relationship a negative one between you two and how is that going to impact the team going forward?” Fuck. How the fuck was she supposed to answer that? Because she wasn’t going to say sorry, that was off the cards.

“Um, yeah, I mean I won’t lie, I can see how it would’ve appeared that there was some tension after Russia, but I wouldn’t say that Max and I have a negative relationship or anything. I think that I was very happy with my result and he was unhappy with his result and so neither of us were overly concerned with the other. But obviously we’re both still working hard for a good team result and I wouldn’t say that anything is going to be impacted in this weekend’s race.” Kit said, twisting her fingers nervously. There were a few more softball questions before attention was brought back to her.

“Kit, sorry to bring up the topic again, but last week Max said in a press conference, “I don’t really care what she does,” obviously in reference to your podium. How do you feel about some of the discussion around you and Max becoming the next Nico and Lewis, especially following that statement from Max?” Yeah, sorry is right. This was never going to end, she was convinced. 

“I don’t really think that that’s accurate, the thing about Lewis and Nico. And I don’t want to speak for Max because obviously I don’t know what his thought process is, but for me I really don’t think that there’s that intense of a rivalry there. Your biggest competition is always your teammate because they set the benchmark of what’s achievable in the car, but yeah, no.” Kit said, ending her answer with a shake of her head, having nothing else to say. 

“Lewis, being part of that rivalry, arguably one of the most fierce rivalries between teammates ever, do you have anything to add?” The main interviewer asked.

“Look man, I don’t really want to, uh, comment on other people’s business so, no, nothing to add.” Lewis said plainly. While Kit respected his attitude, she found that such a non-answer usually just invited more questions. 

“Another question for Kit. This tension between you and Max has sort of been brewing ever since you first became teammates. As far as we can tell there wasn’t anything like it between him and Pierre, so what do you think it is that is causing any negative feelings?” She physically clenched her fist, but the action reminded her of Christian’s slamming down on the table and her unconfirmed seat for the next year so she forced herself to calm down. 

“I mean, I could be sounding like a bit of a broken record here but there aren't any negative feelings between us. We’re both incredibly competitive, as is every other driver on this grid, and so if it seems like there’s more of that between us than there was with Pierre, it’s probably just because we express that differently.” Just breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. 

“You don’t think it has anything to do with your gender?” The same journalist asked, cutting off the woman sitting next to him who was about to ask a likely more interesting question, her eyes directed at Seb. 

“If you’re saying Max Verstappen’s a sexist, then I’m gonna have to disagree.” Liar, Kit thought. The image of him calling her a slut still had that way of creeping up the back of her brain, causing an uncomfortable shiver to shoot down her spine. “Speaking of, I think the lady next to you was going to ask her question.” Kit continued, smiling widely at the nod of thanks sent her way by the female reporter. 

“Um, question for Seb. What was your take on the team decision in Russia, and will that affect how you approach the rest of the season, whether to focus on beating your teammate or beating RedBull?” Kit relaxed back in her chair. She jinxed herself when she thought that it was going to be a good day. 

Luckily the media pen wasn’t too rowdy, most just being limited to asking if Kit was expecting another podium and what her future at the team looked like following her good result. Vague, cookie cutter answers could be given for all of that, so she could give herself a rest before the 'special' interview with Will Buxton. Not exactly her idea of fun, given that she’d now been so easily provoked back into her state of high-alert, the smallest mention of Max about to send her into a tailspin. 

“Hey Kit, how are you?” Will said cheerily as she joined him in front of a large F1 background. There were two fold up chairs facing each other, so Kit shook Will’s hand before sitting down. 

“Not bad, how about you?” Kit replied, making sure not to smile too widely in case Max walked by; she’d seen several videos of herself where her face dropped upon seeing him, and it was starting to become a running joke.

“Oh, pretty good, pretty good. So, this is just gonna be really chill, there’s a boom mic so that you won’t have to worry about that, and the questions are gonna be more get-to-know you style, given you’ve only really just come onto the scene for most people.” Will smiled and Kit knew that it was supposed to be a compliment, but she really did not feel complimented. ‘Only just come onto the scene, gimme a break,’ she thought to herself. 

“Awesome, sounds good.” She replied, oppositional to her internal monologue. A few camera crew fussed around for a minute or two before giving Will the thumbs up to go ahead. 

“Alright, mind giving a clap for us.” Will began, and Kit knew that this would make it into the ‘unscripted’, ‘genuine’ opening on the video, so she sat up straight before grinning and clapping her hands, slightly raised to be up closer to the mic. 

“So, we’ll just jump straight in, if that’s okay?” Kit nodded, so Will continued on. “2019 marks the first year that a woman has ever been on a Formula 1 podium. That’s nearly 70 years after the first ever F1 race. Does it make you proud, to be that woman?” The question was stressed in such a Will Buxton manner that it made Kit smile, hopefully appearing like she was smiling at the actual question. 

“Of course it does. I mean I think that had women like Lella Lombardi back in the 70s had the benefit of improved gender equality it wouldn’t have taken this long, because I’m definitely not the first woman to ever be skilled enough to be on a podium, but yeah, I’m still proud to represent that sort of development within the sport.” 

“And where do you see yourself in Formula 1 in 5, 10 years?”

“5 time world champion.” Kit smiled, laughing only when Will laughed. “But okay, to be serious, I do see myself winning at least one championship. RedBull have done it before and they’ll do it again, and I just hope that at least once I get to be the driver in that winning car.” Kit spied Max walking through the paddock, coming straight towards them. Don’t look, don’t look. 

“Have you always had that dream, or is it just something that you’ve begun to aim for since driving with RedBull?”

“It’s always been the long term goal, but this is probably the first time in my career where it’s felt like something I could reasonably aim for in the near future. Obviously not this year, given I only started half-way through, but if the car is fast enough and I’m good enough, I don’t see what would stop me next year.” She looked. Just as the words ‘what would stop me’ left her mouth, she looked to where she knew Max would be standing for some reason, God only knows, his cold eyes also trained on her. ‘He’s gonna stop me,’ she thought to herself. The interview carried on in a similar manner for about half an hour, hopefully to be edited down, before they reached the final question. 

“Now, last question for you, and it’s probably one you’re sick of being asked, but did Max’s reaction last week put a damper on your first podium? Do you think that you can achieve that goal of becoming world champion with him as your teammate?” She was going to shoot someone. Anyone. How the fuck was she supposed to pretend to like Max when she was constantly being set up to fail. Media was now just an endless loop of hate Max, cover up the fact that you hate Max. As if it wasn’t bad enough before.

“Of course I can. I think that if I have the pace and the consistency, it doesn’t matter who my teammate is, and if anything having such a well-performing and competitive teammate is only going to motivate me even more to perform the best that I can.” She strategically avoided the first half of the question, and was hoping he wouldn’t push the matter. 

“Well, on that positive note for the future, thank you for your time today Kit, and we all look forward to seeing just how much you can achieve in this sport.” They waited in silence for a few moments before the camera man gave them the all clear, and Kit stood up seeing a different PR manager waving her towards the motorhome. 

“Sorry about that last question, my producer told me I had to ask it.” Will muttered, taking out his phone to presumably check his schedule.

“Don’t worry about it, it was a lot easier to dodge than some of the others.” Kit replied. 

“You’d better go, see you round.” Will said, gesturing towards the RedBull employee with a wave and a smile.

“Yeah, see ya.” Kit said, walking quickly over to the motorhome. 

“How did that one go?” The woman asked.

“Not too bad, fairly surface level shit.” Kit said.

“You wanna see surface level, just wait to see what they’ve got you doing today.” She followed the woman into one of the spare meeting rooms or offices, a table with a front desk bell and a horn on it and Max Verstappen seated behind it. There were a few people scattered around the room, with a main F1 employee seeming to be running the show.

“What’s all this?” Kit asked Max as she sat down.

“Some quiz thing.” Max said. He took the horn and began squeezing it, the muffled squeaking nearly making Kit’s eye twitch. 

“That sounds like shit.” She deadpanned.

“Sorry, is this better?” He asked and began to tap her bell repeatedly. 

“Alright, both of you, shall we get started?” The F1 producer asked. 

“Hang on, this one is too quiet.” Max said, holding up the clown horn. 

“Who cares?” Kit asked.

“Me, I want to win.” Max replied. Neither of them had a joking tone, and yet they were eliciting subdued laughs from some of the crew. 

“Just do this.” Kit said, taking the horn and whacking it on the table.

“Oh yeah, that sounds so much better.” Max said, taking the horn back and whacking it again. “Wait,” Max said as he removed a cotton ball from the top of the horn, the following squeak echoing off the walls, “that’s better.” 

“Jesus, that’s fucking loud.” Kit said, reaching up to her ears instinctually. 

“Oh, and guys, try to swear as little as possible.” The producer asked. With Kit and Max, especially with them together in the same room, that would be difficult, if not impossible. “Okay, so first question, this is some onboard audio, you have to tell me which track it’s from.” The producer then played the sound of a car, the upshifting and downshifting not sounding specific enough to pinpoint the track.

“I’m lost.” Max said, sitting back in his chair.

“Shut up, I’m tryna listen.” Kit replied.

“What was that?” Max said, squeaking the horn loudly. 

“Fu-Dude!” Kit said, censoring herself poorly.

“What?” He said, squeaking it again.

“Um, Bahrain.” Kit said, tapping her bell.

“No.” The producer said.

“Uhh, Singapore.” Max guessed.

“You have to squeeze the thing to answer.” Kit scolded. 

“Oh, so when I want to squeeze I can’t, but when I don’t I have to?” He replied indignantly. 

“Austria.” Kit said after tapping the bell again.

“Correct.” Kit nodded smugly at Max, who just rolled his eyes.

“Lucky guess.” Max muttered. 

“Nah, pure talent. I smell jealousy.” Kit replied. 

“Okay, which driver appeared in a music video for Melanie Fiona?” The producer asked. Max squeaked his horn immediately, but hesitated answering.

“That’s cheating, you can’t squeak if you don’t know the answer.” Kit scolded.

“I do know the answer. Lewis.” He said confidently. 

“Incorrect.”

“Hah.” Kit said. “Seb?” She said tentatively. 

“Yes.” 

“2 nil baby. You’ll have to pick up your game Verstappen.” Max rolled his eyes, and Kit was glad that their petty bickering could come off as innocent banter, and not them literally detesting every single thing the other did. About 10 questions later, the game ended in a draw and they were allowed out of the meeting room. Sometimes Kit really did just feel like a little show pony, shepherded around from place to place. 

“Kit.” She spun on her heel at the sound of Max’s voice, her stomach dropping as she preempted the worst. 

“What?” She replied semi-coldly. 

“Are you doing anything for the next hour before the meeting?” He asked, and although he already sounded irritated she was overcome by shock at the question. 

“No, why? You want some racing advice?” She said, not able to stop herself from smiling. 

“No, fuck off. My sister wants to meet you, I usually wouldn’t care but Jos is just…it doesn’t matter, just, would you mind?” Max asked. His tone of voice didn’t sound tentative, but there was a glimmer of emotion in his eyes that almost made him look it.

“Yeah sure. I’m probably a lot nicer to spend time with than you anyway.” Kit replied, although she felt sort of guilty after the brief and vague mention of his dad. 

“Shut up.” Max said sharply. As they emerged outside into the sunlight, the pair trained their eyes on the little girl seated at one of the outdoor tables alone, swinging her legs back and forth as she did some colouring in. Neither Jos nor her mother were in sight. 

“Hey bluey, waar is je moeder?” Max said once the girl lifted her head and smiled at the sight of her older brother. 

“Ze ging met papa naar de badkamer.” The girl said in a sweet little Dutch voice. The sound made Kit’s insides melt. She had no idea what the pair were saying, but the girl’s reply seemed to make Max’s face darken slightly and she felt the need to intervene before he got too angry at his dad (or the world, whichever took his fancy) and took it out on her.

“Max, are you gonna introduce me to your sister?” Kit said as she moved forward to stand beside him. She realised that they were both towering over her, and so she sat down and gestured for Max to do this same. 

“Bluey, this is Kit. Kit, Bluey.” Kit smiled at the girl, who shyly looked down at her colouring. 

“Hi Bluey. What are you colouring?” Kit asked slowly, not sure how good the girl’s English was. 

“It’s a race car.” Bluey replied quietly but with almost no accent. Bloody Europeans. 

“It’s very pretty. Who’s race car is it?” Kit asked, noticing the messy colours of the RedBull car scribbled over the bold black outline of a generic race car. 

“It’s Maxie’s.” Bluey grinned, looking up adoringly at her older brother, who for once in his life didn’t look like someone had just cut him off in peak hour traffic. Some of that adoration was actually reflected back at her.

“Where am I? Don’t I get to drive it?” Max asked. Kit had never seen him interact with someone else solely for their benefit and not his. It made her feel weird. Like all her anger and irritation towards him had suddenly become unjustified in that moment, even though she definitely still felt it. 

“No, I do.” Bluey said, going back to ferociously adding details to the previously plain cartoon.

“Do you wanna be a race car driver?” Kit asked encouragingly. 

“Mmhmm, just like daddy and Maxie.” Bluey said, not looking up from her colouring in. Kit smiled subconsciously before looking up to see Max’s reaction. Although he nearly had a smile on his face too, something about it was pained. Not pained as in, Kit had done something that wasn’t to his liking, but more pained as in emotionally. Again, seeing Max like this almost made Kit feel bad for hating him. It wasn’t until later that day in the strategy meeting when Max basically asked to be prioritised over her if there was a podium up for grabs, but in words that were even more self-obsessed and rude than that, that Kit regained her full self-permission to hate him, even when she remembered the way he had written out their full names on the paper because Bluey (legal name Blue Jaye Verstappen) couldn’t spell Katherine. Or how he had actually bitten his tongue in front of Bluey when Kit began to whistle Greensleeves, something usually would’ve gotten her a “Shut up” or “That’s fucking annoying”. But then again, was this really the standard he had? Everyone was nicer around little, cute kids. Even Max Verstappen. 

Chapter Text

“DOUBLE PODIUM BABY! BLOODY WELL DONE!” Kit heard through her radio, Hugh yelling so loud that the radio crackled painfully, the volume too much for the shitty mics to process. She was grinning widely under her helmet, having achieved her second podium in three races. The only thing that could dampen her spirits was the sight of Max’s rear wing in front of her as they both drove closer to the pit wall fence and punched their fists triumphantly towards their team. 

“FUCK YES! WOOOHOOOO!” She yelled back through the radio. “THANK YOU GUYS, FUCK, YES!” She pulled up behind the third place sign, securing the car before jumping out and pumping her fist in front of the Mexican crowd. Max had already run over to the crowd of RedBull employees, so Kit followed in his footsteps and jumped up into the waiting arms of her colleagues. Comforting pats on her back and helmet took her back to Russia, and her heart was nearly beating out of her chest from excitement.

Her balaclava stuck to her face with sweat as she pulled it off, grin now unobstructed from the camera that was pointed close to her face. She gave the lens an excited thumbs up as she smoothed down some of the hair that had come out of her two plaits, putting a cap over the messier top of her hair. She noticed Max beside her drinking from a water bottle and tried to appear as if she hadn’t even looked his way, not wanting it to be obvious that she was ignoring him. Luckily, she was saved by her podium interview, although saved was potentially not the word she should have used. 

“Kit, well, well done. Second podium in three races, and it’s a double podium for the team. How are you feeling?” The interviewer said cheerfully. 

“It’s amazing, I mean I definitely wasn’t expecting to perform so well here but it’s so great that we can consistently aim for podiums and yeah, we got some really good points here today.” Kit grinned, eating up the cheer from the crowd that probably didn’t understand what she was saying.

“There are only three races left of the year and obviously your season hasn’t been just at RedBull, has there been any clarification on your place at the team for next year?” All Kit thought of was that meeting with Christian back in Russia. She was hoping that today’s podium celebration would be more enjoyable, especially given that the team could celebrate for Max too. 

“Um, not really, but it is comforting to know that I still have a contract as an F1 driver, even if it’s at Torro Rosso and not RedBull. But yeah, obviously the goal is to perform well in the final few races and prove that I’m good enough to keep this seat.”

“Well, seeing as it’s a double podium for RedBull, the team’s first since 2017, maybe we’ll get Max to join us.” No, fuck, no. Not a good idea. It took all of the tiny muscles surrounding Kit’s mouth to not let her smile falter. Max came to stand beside her, their lack of acknowledgement of the other now something Kit was totally accustomed to, but realised probably looked very strange to the hundreds of thousands of people watching. 

“Max, great result for the team today, how does it feel to get back on that podium?” The mic was pushed towards him for an answer. 

“It feels great man, this is where we want to be as a team, getting these valuable championship points you know, and yeah, very happy to be P2 today.” Kit looked awkwardly around the interviewer’s head, not too sure what to do with herself. 

“So with both of you performing like this, it could be a bit premature to say, but does this put RedBull back as a championship contender for next year?” The interviewer didn’t specifically address one of them, so they looked at each other with an unspoken argument going on between them. Kit nodded towards the mic, and so Max had to field the question, not wanting to expose their usual bickering to the world. 

“I don’t think it’s premature, we don’t want to speak too early because we haven’t driven next year’s car, but yeah, I’d say that the results we’re getting at the moment are definitely good to see, and hopefully it only goes up from here.” Max replied in a very diplomatic tone, downplaying the happiness Kit knew he must feel somewhere in that deep, cold heart of his. 

“Well, best of luck to the both of you, I’m sure you’ll be celebrating tonight.” The interviewer concluded, moving on to focus on Lewis. Max and Kit both turned inwards to walk back to the helmets, and so their shoulders pushed together forcefully, neither of them deigning to look at the other nor backing out of the position. The feeling of his upper arm pressed into her shoulder was almost as infuriating as him giving her a little push when they reached the stand that her helmet was on before passing onto his own, and Kit felt like she was arguing with a little sibling. She whipped her head over to face him, shooting daggers his way until he looked up to shoot some back at her. 

The British anthem played over the speakers and Kit could feel the material of the 3rd place cap under the pads of her fingers. It didn’t take much imagination to pretend it was the Australian anthem and that the cap was for 1st, and that image was what was behind her smile as the celebratory music began to play and she could pop open her champagne. Lewis, obviously aware of the tension between her and Max, tried to mediate by spraying his champagne onto both of them, Max and Kit reciprocating equally. 

It wasn’t until the bubbles had died down and the three of them were thoroughly soaked that Kit was forced to confront the fact that she was sharing a podium with her teammate. Her, Max, Lewis, and a Mercedes employee crowded together on the top step, her and Max obviously side by side. She was on the end, so his arm rested around her shoulders and hers around his waist. She felt uneasy under his touch, like she couldn’t make any small movement for fear of him remembering that she was there. Luckily, the pair retracted their limbs from each other as soon as the photographer was finished. 

They couldn’t have been more opposite to Lewis and the Mercedes-clad woman, both laughing and drinking and just overall appearing to not detest each other. Max and Kit picked up their bottles and walked off the podium, smiles nearly gone and not facing each other, their enjoyment of the moment directly proportional to the amount of silence between them. But it wouldn’t be the end of an alcohol-fuelled celebration, not by a mile. 

In the team photo, Max and Kit were obviously side by side. The photographer yelled at them to “stop looking like you hate each other,” eliciting a laugh from the other RedBull members but only causing Max and Kit’s mouths to downturn as they shuffled closer together behind their respective position markers. “Go on, give each other a bit of a cuddle, you know you want to!” The photographer continued, only causing more laughs from the crew. Kit just rolled her eyes but obliged, arm around Max’s waist for the second time that day. His arm fell around her shoulders, but this time it felt different. Tighter, almost? No, that wasn’t it. Whatever it was, Kit didn’t feel as rigid underneath it, the pressure almost nice. Well, until he leant down to whisper in her ear, “Don’t get used to it.” 

The smile she plastered on for the camera after that was probably the fakest she’d ever worn, cheeks hurting from the strength it took to push up the apples of her cheeks. The champagne that exploded over her head managed to keep it there, the feeling sticky but soothing over her skin, still hot from underneath her helmet. She felt herself be hoisted up onto some shoulders, jostling around over people’s heads and far too close to Max for her own comfort. 

Despite trying her very hardest to enjoy the moment, she couldn’t help but remember her first podium and how it couldn’t have been more different. Sure, it was only one of them up there, not two, but even still, it was a big moment in any driver’s career. There was no amount of champagne in the world that could soothe the realisation, the cold hard wave of epiphany that she was the number two driver. She already knew, because how could she not, but it was the realisation from the feeling of hands lowering her down as Max was carried into the garage, raised above heads and giving out high fives, that really struck a cold bolt of jealousy and anger through to her core. Not exactly how you should be feeling after a podium. 

“Bloody good job today Kit, what a cracker of a drive.” Christian said to her encouragingly, even though she couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicker to Max. 

“Thanks Christian, that's 2 for 3.” Kit laughed, trying not to show her emotions on her face. 

“Make it 4 for 5 and we’ve got a deal.” He said, laughing as well before moving up through the crowd to get to Max. A deal? Was that what Max meant when he said not to get used to it? Kit couldn’t help but remember her first press conference after getting the seat, how Max said he already knew that she was Pierre’s replacement. Her stomach seemed to fall out through her feet as she was just pushed through the motions of the post-race routine by various people in RedBull polos. Through press, through the very rushed debrief, through the drive back to the hotel and the walk to the bar, her brain felt obstructed by a hopeless fog. She couldn't look at a RedBull logo with her stomach twisting and a pit of dread in her mind getting deeper and deeper.

It wasn’t until she was seated at the Mexican bar, 4 coronas in with a dopey smile on her face that she seemed to snap back into her body. The fog cleared and she jumped straight to the next extreme: she seemed to be making decisions with disturbing determination, drunk ‘clarity’ making her chug the remainder of her beer and whip her head back and forth around the bar, not stopping until it came to rest on the sight Christian. His face had gone pink, nearly fading into his hair and stubble, and he was laughing great heaving belly laughs, smacking his fist on the table appreciatively. That was the action she needed to properly propel her forwards. This man would give her a contract for next year, and her inebriated brain was determined that it would happen now. She walked over with purpose in her stride, despite having to peel the sole of her shoe up from the sticky floor with every step.

“Mind if I slide in? The bar was getting boring.” Kit said to an engineer, her best media smile on her face. Her mission was so clear that not even Max’s presence across the table would faze her. Even though the incessant tapping on the side of his glass seemed to be yelling, pestering at her to leave. 

“Of course, we’d never refuse our prettiest driver!” Christian half-yelled, cutting off the shyer engineer who was probably just going to say, “Sure.” Hugh was sitting next to Max and gave him a comforting smack on the shoulder, the latter pretending to be devastated at Christian’s comment with his head down in his hands. 

“Oh, poor Maxie-poo.” Kit said, her laugh only increasing in intensity as Max raised his head from his hands with a stony glare in his eyes. He was slightly flushed as well, and Kit had the strange thought that she’d never really seen him without a hat on before. Not that it was relevant, but she couldn’t stop herself from staring at his hair now that she knew it was such a rare sight. In the dim light of the bar, it appeared to be a dark blonde, mussed around from presumably many congratulatory head ruffles. 

“Kit?” She heard Christian’s voice, not realising she’d done that White-girl-drunk thing of completely zoning out onto one thing until she saw him looking at her expectantly. 

“Hmm? Sorry?” She asked, trying to ignore the blush that crept up her face, embarrassed that she’d just been caught staring at Max. Max . Of all the people in the world. 

“You did an amazing job today. No, seriously, you did. Pierre was in that exact same car, and I think you’ve scored more points than him already. You know, he’s a great guy, but he just couldn’t handle it. You, you’ve got it. He, he wanted to be world champion. You already know it’s gonna be you, we just have to give you the car. Max is the same.” Christian was drunk rambling, but because he was the big boss the whole table had to listen. 

“You two are just, you’re both so competitive, you know? You’ve got that drive. It’s why you’re at each other’s throats all the time. Which, by the way, you’ve been restraining yourselves recently, so I appreciate that.” Christian continued, nodding to himself. Kit couldn’t help but look across the table at Max, meeting his eyes, neutral but slightly less cold than their usual stoniness, softened by the alcohol and the praise from Christian. His tapping had stopped, which oddly enough let Kit settle into the bench seat, feeling less on edge. 

“Speaking of being appreciative, you two wanna go get another round?” Hugh said, a shit stirring smile on his face as Kit’s smile dropped. Max rolled his eyes but went to stand up anyway, Kit, already halfway out of her seat. 

“I don’t need help.” Max said, but Kit just scoffed, rolled her eyes and brushed past him towards the bar, hearing ‘oooh’s and whistles let out from behind them. 

“Diez Coronas, por favor.” Kit said, asking for ten beers with a terrible Spanish accent. The bartender nodded before beginning to take off the caps of the bottles. 

“Why were you looking at me before?” Max said curtly, never wasting any time on small talk. Despite his stern tone, he was leaning on the bar a little bit too heavily to be in full Mad Max mode. 

“Huh?” Kit said, playing dumb. She refused to look over at him now, keeping her eyes trained on the bartender.

“Before, you were looking at me for like 30 seconds. It was fucking weird.” Max continued. Kit decided to humour him, if only because then he would leave her alone. 

“You always have a cap on. It’s fucking weird to see you without it.” Kit said. She collected one of two trays of beer and walked back to the table, not waiting for Max to reply or to take the other tray. The table let out appreciative cheers as she set down the tray, but as she retook her previous seat, Kit realised that everyone had moved further along around the round bench surrounding the table, leaving only one space next for Max: directly next to her. While the fact that the whole crew seemed to think their detestation for each other was amusing made her feel slightly less self conscious about their terse relationship, it didn’t change the fact that she would have to sit next to Max until there was a reason for him to get up. 

“Cheers.” Hugh said, now directly across the table. Kit frowned at the feeling of Max’s arm next to hers, both of them clinking their glass bottles in the middle of the table with the rest of the group. 

“You guys excited for next week? Cath told me there’s a few celebs on our guest list.” Matt, one of the marketing guys said, Cath being the head of PR. The next week was Austin, the only race in the US making it usually the race with the most A-listers in attendance. 

“Oh yeah? Who?” Kit asked with genuine curiosity.

“I heard Matthew McConaughey.” Christian’s assistant said. 

“Yeah, Cath told me that as well.” Hugh confirmed. 

“Do we get to do hot laps?” Kit asked, a smile on her face at the idea of showing off her driving skills for the attractive celebrity. 

“We are talking about the on-track kind, right?” Matt said, eliciting a laugh from everyone at the table. Kit even felt Max’s shoulders shift up and down with a snort. 

“Yes, obviously.” Kit said, smiling as she took a sip of her beer. 

“Then yes, I think so.” Matt grinned in return. 

“Anyone else?” Max asked, his voice stirring something uncomfortable within Kit. 

“No models or actresses Max, don’t get too excited.” Christian joked. 

“Ahh, what a shame.” Max said, an actual smile cracking open his usually flat mouth before he took a sip from the golden bottle. That uncomfortable feeling only got stronger at the sight. 

“Anyone feel like a dance?” Hugh said, looking over at the centre of the bar where tables had been moved to make room for a dancefloor. 

“Not tonight mate, it’ll take a championship to get me on the dancefloor.” Christian said good-naturedly. 

“Kit?” He asked hopefully. She paused in deliberation for a moment, always up for a dance but not wanting to draw unwanted attention to herself. Luckily no one in the bar really seemed to know who they were now that they were all out of their uniforms, so she figured that there wouldn’t be any photos taken of her in case she kept drinking and decided to get up on a table or something else equally as mortifying. 

“Go on then.” She said, nudging her knee into Max’s to get him to move out from the bench. He stood up slowly, only shuffling marginally out from the bench. Kit scooted herself along the vinyl seat but paused before standing up. Max had already begun talking to Christian about something, and so wasn’t paying any attention to her, which was unfortunate given he hadn’t left her enough room to get out. She tried to get him to move by standing up as far as she could while still awkwardly under the bench, but to no avail. With Hugh still waiting next to the table, she was left no option but to shuffle out and have her back be essentially pressed fully to Max’s front. It was only for an instant, as Max stepped back from her faster than he stepped on the throttle at lights out, but she could still feel their clothes shifting against each other, and it sent a shiver of loathing down her spine. 

Kit and Hugh didn’t dance together, per say, him being 20 years her senior and happily married with the most picture perfect family she’d ever seen, but there were definitely some daggy mum and dad moves being busted out. They were surrounded by locals not only well versed in the songs playing but also in good dance moves, and so stuck out so horrendously that they couldn’t help but laugh every few minutes. The dance floor seemed to gain popularity as the night went on, with Kit feeling the crowd of bodies get tighter and tighter until she was practically skin to skin with everyone around her. This didn’t bother her, given she was comfortably drunk and given time to think about her podium without needing to hold conversation. Okay, so what if she couldn’t shimmy out a contract from Christian in a Mexican bar at quarter past midnight? The way he was talking about her and Max, you would’ve thought they were his affectionately annoying children, not his employees. 

The feeling of a cold bottle being pressed into her hand and that same feeling of fabric from Max’s chest caused her to tilt her head up, met with the sight of Matt and Max asserting their position near her and Hugh on the tightly packed dance floor. Hugh was right in front of Kit, with Matt at her side, leaving nowhere for Max to move from his position right behind her. In an effort to expand their little circle and get rid of the feeling of Max’s shirt on her back that felt like it was short circuiting her nerve endings from hyper awareness, Kit just ended up turning herself 180°. She attempted to push sideways and turn back, but Hugh and Matt had been separated from her and Max, and the dancefloor was practically pulsing to the soundtrack of Latin music. 

Kit wasn’t noticeably short, but was definitely a solid 15 centimetres shorter than Max, a fact that was now very clear to her that she was nose to chin with him. The pair of them were still sort of dancing, although it was hard to do much of anything with so many people around them in such a small space. Kit looked up, curious as to what must’ve been going through his head in such an anti-Max situation. She found him already looking down at her, his face as blank as ever. He didn’t break their eye contact, so she didn’t either, not wanting to lose to him even over the tiniest competition. 

There was something so unreadable about him that infuriated Kit. Even chest to chest, glaring into each other’s eyes, she had no idea what was going through his head. He was like a one way mirror and all she wanted to do was to be on the other side of it. 

“Kit!” She heard Matt yell in her ear from beside her, not noticing him moving his way through the crowd beside her. 

“We’re going, are you guys coming?” He asked. 

“Yep.” Kit said immediately, not sure if she could stare down her teammate for much longer. The three pushed their way out of the crowd and into the cool air of the night, the walk back to their hotel not long enough to justify a taxi. 

“How’s your boyfriend?” Max asked from beside her, and Kit was surprised at him creating conversation with her, apprehension already clear in her reply. 

“He’s good. Just got into the semis of the Swiss open.” Kit said, unsure of how much detail to provide.

“That’s not exactly a big one.” Max said, neutral to the untrained ear but to Kit it held a certain contempt and judgement for her, as if her boyfriend was inferior and reflective of how she was inferior. 

“Oh, and since when were you a tennis expert?” She replied sarcastically. 

“I’m not, that’s how I know it isn’t a big one because I’ve never heard of it.” Max said. His typical straightforward tone asserted the fact that he thought he could have the final say on anything and knew better than anyone. 

“Why did you ask if you’re just gonna be a dick?” Kit said, trying not to change her tone of voice. She hated it when he could tell she was getting worked up. 

“I was just curious. You met this guy, you immediately started going out, I assumed that he must be some kind of tennis god.” Max said, and it gave Kit a surge of confidence to hear the irritation seeping into his tone as well. 

“He’s good, but he’s also a nice person. I know that’s really quite difficult for you to understand, given you’re impossible to be around.” Kit replied. 

“You are literally the only person who thinks that.” He said quickly, the words nearly stumbling over each other like a schoolboy desperate to get the last word. 

“I quite literally am not.” Kit quipped back. 

“Oh yeah, who else then?” Max replied. 

“How old are you, five? I’m not about to start naming people.” Kit rolled her eyes. 

“Why not? You know you only hate me because I drive better than you.” Max said, and his self important tone made Kit’s stomach clench. 

“Sorry, who was in fifth two weeks ago while I was on the podium? Who DNFed last week?” She asked angrily. They had been walking slowly with the rest of the drunken pack and were now right outside the hotel lobby. The quiet sliding of the automatic doors and the transition from dark to light reminded the arguing pair that they were now indoors and their words wouldn’t just dissipate into the night air. Kit was begrudgingly grateful for Max waiting until they were alone in an elevator to continue the argument, the choice causing them to receive quizzical looks from the rest of the team, but Kit felt like she was going to burst and barely noticed. 

“You only think you’re better cos-”

“DNF? My fucking DNF has nothing-”

The pair began yelling as soon as the door closed, words jumbling together in the small space to create a wall of sound that echoed off the walls. 

“Max, you are truly unbelievable-”

“I’m unbelievable? You’ve had a seat for about 2 seconds and you think you’re top shit-”

“Sorry not all of us have an ex-driver for a father-”

“You did not just fucking say that-”

“Yeah, I did Max, you’ve had it so easy-”

“I’ve had it easy are you fucking-”

“You’re a rich little boy with connections of course you’ve had it easy-”

“Oh fuck off, you’ve had it just as easy as me-”

“So you have had it easy then-”

“Are you even fucking listening to me-”

“No Max, why the fuck should I listen to you-”

“I’ve been in F1 for 5 years-”

“I could’ve outdriven you at 17 but unfortunately I have something called a vagina-”

“You can’t just pull the woman card whenever-”

“The woman card? You know I said you weren’t a sexist but-”

“It doesn’t make me sexist to know that you blame everything on-”

“Oh and you don’t blame everything on other drivers anyway-”

“They fucking attack me on track and the FiA are getting their cocks sucked by Mercedes-”

“Get a grip Max, you’re asking for it when you-”

“What? When I drive aggressively? You’ll never win a fucking championship without-”

“I’ll win a championship without advice from you-”

“Not if I’m your teammate.” Max had the last word as the elevator doors opened. Kit hadn’t realised how close they’d become, practically breathing into each other’s faces trying to get their point across through sheer force. The pair stormed out in opposite directions, luckily having been given the furthest apart rooms on the floor. Kit couldn’t think straight from the anger coursing through her veins. She would win a fucking championship even if she had to kill herself trying. She was never going to listen to team orders again, and she most certainly was getting that contract extended. 

Still marching down the hallway, she stopped in front of Christian’s room and knocked on the door sharply, enough alcohol and adrenaline running through her bloodstream to have the confidence. Her heart was beating against her ribs with such force and speed that she thought it was about to jump out through her throat, only increasing with vigour as Christian opened the door. He had a look of slight surprise on his face, but no anger or irritation. 

“Kit, what can I do for you?” He asked in a tone that said ‘I’ll make time for you because you’re my driver and you scored us a podium today, but don’t make me regret it.’

“I know that this is incredibly unprofessional, but I need a seat for next year. I’m not begging you, I’m telling you. If you give me the car I can win races for you. I can win the fucking championship. But I can’t do that at Torro Rosso and I’m telling you right now that Daniil and Pierre and any of the academy drivers won’t be able to do it for you either. You already have the youngest champion and I’ll give you the first female champion too. But I need a seat and I can’t keep delivering for you if I know you’re just gonna replace me with some European wanker who has daddy’s credit card in his back pocket.” Kit rambled out, already regretting her decision as she saw Christian’s expression fall from the welcoming half-smile to deep thought. 

“If you hadn’t gotten a podium today I’d be telling you to pack your bags.” Christian said knowingly, and Kit’s stomach dropped. She was gonna be sick. 

“I know how much you want this, but so does every other driver on the track. You have to prove it to me.” Christian continued. 

“There are only three races left in the season. If I get one more podium and finish in the top 5 the other two, I have a seat.” Kit said assertively. Her eyes bore into Christian’s, and it helped her to imagine they were Max’s  to maintain contact. Christian paused for a moment, thinking through her proposal. 

“You’ve got a deal.” Christian said, sticking his hand out for her to shake. His palm felt firm against hers, and she even saw the beginnings of a smile perk up at the corners of his mouth. 

“You won’t regret this Christian.” Kit said, already grinning. 

“I better not. Goodnight, Kit.” He said, closing the door softly. She practically skipped down the hallway to her door, not letting realisation sink in until she was reaching into her pocket for the room key. She’d just said she would get another podium in one of the next three races. Shit. 

Chapter Text

“Charles, how can you say who cares? It’s Taylor Swift, for fucks sakes.” Kit said in hushed tones, hiding in the RedBull garage from the celebrity she was supposed to be taking on a hot lap in less than 10 minutes. The Wednesday of the US GP was always full of A-listers, but Kit had never been important enough to actually interact with them. Not until today, anyway. 

“Okay, in comparison to you, who cares. She sings, you’re a Formula 1 driver, I would say you’re more famous.” Charles said, arms crossed over his red Ferrari shirt as he leant against the wall of the garage. 

“To us a Formula 1 driver is more famous. To like, everyone else who’s actually normal, Taylor Swift is basically the most famous person alive. I’m gonna look like an idiot.” Kit said, now mumbling into her hands. 

“How will you look like an idiot? You know how to drive and you’re outgoing. What more could she want?” Charles said, his tone getting increasingly less comforting as his ambivalence to the whole situation began to shine through. 

“I don’t know, a person she actually knows. Somehow I doubt Taylor Swift gives a singular fuck about F1.” Kit said dejectedly. She now mirrored Charles’ position, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall. 

“Surely you can just put on that stupid we are never getting together song and have a party in the car.” Charles said, laughing at Kit’s blank stare. 

“First of all, it’s we are never getting back together, and second, she probably doesn’t wanna listen to her own song in the car.” Kit stated matter-of-factly. 

“If her ego is as big as yours, I don’t see why not.” Charles replied. He let out an uncharacteristically high pitched squeal as Kit began to hit him softly in the stomach and on the arms, pretending to beat him into submission. “Stop, Kit, stop, you’re being waved over.” Charles said, coming down from a laugh and pointing to a spot behind her. Turning her torso but not her hips, KIt looked over her shoulder to see a handful of RedBull PR people next to a very souped up Honda sports car, two helmets, and none other than Taylor Swift herself. One of the employees had turned and was beckoning Kit over while telling Taylor something, eliciting a laugh from the singer. Kit assumed it was probably a joke about her being late. 

“Wish me luck, Charles.” Kit said as she collected her water bottle and phone.

“Calm down, you aren’t going into battle.” Charles said, giving her a side squeeze in farewell. Kit noticed Max chatting to Lando from the corner of her eye, a wide smile across his face and head thrown back in laughter. She could not for the life of her understand that man. Just when she thought she was getting somewhere after the day with his sister, he goes and fucks it all up in Mexico by being an all around asshole, then doesn’t speak to her for a week, and doesn’t seem to give it a moment’s thought when she’s not in his eyeline. But she made a mental vow to not think about it any more, because she would have to dedicate her whole focus to putting in the best lap possible for Taylor fucking Swift. 

“Hey guys.” Kit said, slightly apprehensive as she entered the small group. She tried not to let her nerves show on her face by letting her excitement shine through in her smile, but she could feel her palms sweating as she reached a one metre distance to T Swift herself. 

“Hey Kit, Taylor, this is Kit Kelly who I’m sure you’ve heard a bit about from your team, she’s one of our Formula 1 drivers and she’ll be doing a couple of laps around the circuit with you.” The PR manager said cheerfully, obviously just as excited to be in the vicinity of Taylor as Kit. 

“It’s amazing to meet you, I’m actually so excited.” Taylor said in her girl-next-door, all-American accent. Kit was slightly taken aback as she was brought in for a hug by the other woman, but reciprocated nonetheless, trying to fully soak in the fact that it was Taylor Swift in front of her. 

“So am I. I credit part of my career success to Red.” Kit said, relishing in the laugh that left Taylor’s mouth. Kit felt a presence on her and looked around to see an F1 cameraman filming the two, realising that she was currently in the intro to the hot laps video. 

“Here you two go.” The PR manager said as she handed them both a helmet. Kit was comforted by the feeling of a helmet on her head, knowing that it would get her enough in the zone to put in a few laps right on the edge. 

“I feel like I’m about to learn how to ride a bike.” Taylor laughed as she secured the helmet on her head. 

“Don’t worry, there’s less crashing.” Kit replied, feeling more at ease due to the singer’s kind eyes and easy laugh, even if she still felt like butterflies were flapping about in her stomach. 

“That makes me feel so much better.” Taylor said sarcastically with a slight undertone of nervousness as her door was opened by a RedBull employee and she slid into the passenger’s seat. 

“Okay, strapped in?” Kit asked tokenistically. “Actually, hang on a sec.” She said, thinking of Charles’ joke, although now that they were in the car it seemed that Taylor wasn’t in any hurry to leave, slightly gripping the seatbelt and the upper handles within the car. Kit pulled out her phone and plugged it into the car, the opening guitar of ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together’ starting. She began to sing along word for word as she stuck the keys in the ignition and the car purred to life. Nothing put a smile on her face like the hum of a fast car under her bum. 

“Ready?” Kit asked, foot itching to press down on the accelerator. 

“Um, no, but if you wait for me to say yes we’ll be here for days.” Taylor said, letting out a nervous laugh. 

“Okay, here we go.” Kit said, accelerating far slower than she would if she was trying to win a race, but still reaching the top speed possible by the first corner out of the pit lane. She was having so much fun driving the car around the circuit, hitting every apex and pressing on the brakes at just the right time that she hardly even noticed Taylor screaming and gripping on for dear life. 

“We-eee are never ever ever getting back together.” Kit sang casually as they rounded another corner. 

“How the f-heck are you singing right now?” Taylor asked, censoring herself for her predominantly young fanbase. Kit could take a few pointers on that one.

“Hang on, it’s the best part.” Kit said, anticipating the talking portion of the song. 

“So he calls me up and he’s like ‘I still love you.’” Kit spoke with an American accent, lifting her right hand off the wheel to act like the man in the song. 

“Oh my god, keep your hands on the wheel!” Taylor yelled, as Kit just continued with her monologue. 

“Like we are never getting back together, like ever.” Kit said, laughing at Taylor’s relieved sigh as she replaced her other hand on the wheel and continued around the corners, truly at the edge of what the car could achieve. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Taylor groaned. 

“Actually?” Kit said with part concern and part amusement. 

“Is that the finish line?” Taylor said hopefully. 

“Yes, you made it.” Kit laughed, slowing as the car entered the pit lane before coming to a stop in front of RedBull where they departed. Kit unbuckled herself and removed her helmet, but Taylor just leaned back against the seat and let out a sigh. 

“That was terrifying. I thought I was gonna die every time you turned a corner.” Taylor said with the kind of dramatics that Kit assumed every American celebrity had.

“You could write a song about that.” Kit laughed, opening her door but not getting out as a cue for Taylor to extricate herself from the car as well. “Loving you is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street.” Kit continued, singing the line from Red.

“You weren’t lying about Red, were you?” Taylor said, her hair somehow still looking perfect as they both emerged from the sportscar. They handed their helmets back to a RedBull-merch clad employee and continued to chat, overly aware of the dozens of cameras pointed at them but pretending not to be. 

“I really was not. When I was 14 I would listen to that album on repeat.” Kit smiled. She vividly remembered 24 hour plus travel days to karting competitions when her parents were still adamant that they could all keep living in Australia (spoiler alert, they definitely couldn’t) where she would listen to Red for hours at a time. 

“Oh my god, 14? So you’re like, what, 21?” Taylor said in disbelief. 

“Oh yeah.” Kit said grinning. “Only 5 months until I can enjoy 22 for all it’s worth.” 

“You know, it never gets old when people tell me that. Every time it’s like, I can’t believe I’m what you think of when you think of turning 22.” Taylor said, and if anyone else had said it Kit would’ve thought they were being sarcastic, but she seemed so genuinely kind and happy that Kit just took everything she said as truth. 

“You’re a cultural icon, Tee-Tee.” Kit said, the pair laughing together closely like old friends. 

“I mean, I don’t know much about Formula 1, but from what I’ve heard you are too.” Taylor replied humbly. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say icon. I’m just something different.” Kit said, gesturing her hand in the air to brush off the comment.

“That’s how all icons start babe.” Taylor said excitedly. Kit couldn’t stop her grin at the comment, even though Christian walking through the pit lane was inopportunely timed for that moment and so Kit saw him from her peripheral vision in the garage talking to her engineer. Her stomach dropped as she remembered her promise: Sunday had to be at least P5, but she’d done that in every race so far anyway. She wanted to get this first podium out of the way early, that would help her relax and not shoot herself into the wall. 

“Don’t jinx me.” Kit laughed, glancing over at Christian again. 

“I should probably say thank you and goodbye for the cameras, but we can keep hanging out if you’re not busy.” Taylor said, nearly sounding tentative to ask for more of Kit’s time. The latter was practically bounding on the balls of her feet at the idea. 

“Okay, do you wanna start?” The crowd of media people laughed softly at their interaction, both clearly accustomed to the public eye. 

“Sure. Thank you so much for the lap, even if I wasn’t a great passenger.” Taylor said, her media voice not actually that different from the one she was just using. Now that she was aware of it, Kit was the complete opposite. 

“Nah, I’ve had worse. Plus, you’re Taylor Swift, so definitely forgiven.” The pair laughed, and after that the majority of the cameras went hunting for something more interesting to do, so they were semi-off the hook, except for Taylor’s own staff. Strangely enough, Kit felt far more relaxed when she knew the footage would be for Taylor’s social media and not for an audience who would definitely know who she was. 

“Do you want me to show you around a bit? I don’t think I have anywhere specific to go for the next little while.” Kit said, looking at the PR manager for confirmation, smiling as she nodded her head. 

“I’d love to!” Taylor said excitedly, making Kit smile even wider. 

“Okay, well, first stop is the garage, this is my side, as you can see.” Kit said, pointing to the banner above the large opening that had her number, 2, next to her name in huge letters and then her driver photo. Her and Daniel were the only ones who smiled in theirs, and it was always a good photo-op when their garages were next to each other. 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Taylor laughed, following in behind her. 

“I know, we’re very subtle with our driver branding here.” Kit laughed. “Um, I mean it feels stupid to say here’s the car, but here’s the car.” Kit continued, gesturing to her car that had been cordoned off, anticipating the celebrities that weren’t aware of just how much damage they could do. 

“It’s kind of bigger than I’d thought.” Taylor said appreciatively, her eyes drinking in the machine in front of her. 

“Hey, you know what would be cool?” Kit said, not finished her sentence as she began hunting around the garage for a white marker of some sort. They were often used to mark off certain tyres that wouldn’t be used or to just scribble on unimportant surfaces, so Kit knew she’d be able to find one somewhere.

“Am I supposed to know what’s happening?” Taylor said, standing awkwardly by the car, not sure where she was and wasn’t allowed to go. 

“Hang on, just one sec,” Kit said, opening drawer after drawer, “here we go.” She said triumphantly, retrieving a white paint pen from under Hugh’s usual station, the drawer messy in an organised, smart-person way. “I’m not sure if we’re allowed to do this, but like, I’ve signed it, so…” Kit began, trailing off as she lifted up the seatbelt material of the fence surrounding the car, gesturing for Taylor to follow. 

“I feel like I’m gonna get in trouble.” Taylor laughed.

“Nah, I’ll take the fall.” Kit said happily, shaking and then uncapping then pen. “Maybe go right next to mine.” She pointed at the spot on the wall of the cockpit where she’d signed right at the beginning of the season, handing Taylor the pen to sign as well. “Just, try not to touch anything else.” Kit said, half joking and half nervous. 

“God, pressure’s on.” Taylor said, her well-rehearsed and artistically casual signature telling another story. 

“I feel such a fangirl.” Kit said as she accepted the pen back and ducked back under the rope. 

“Are you kidding? I just signed a Formula 1 car. Doesn’t that thing cost like millions of dollars?” Taylor asked. 

“Maybe…” Kit replied sheepishly, looking around for other things to show the singer. Max’s side of the garage seemed empty, so she decided to take her over there, although they definitely wouldn’t be touching his car. Kit didn’t want to submit a celebrity to the wrath of Mad Max. 

“So you have a teammate? Sorry, I know nothing about this sport.” Taylor laughed.

“Yeah, I do. Max Verstappen?” Kit said questioningly, rejoicing at Taylor’s shrug, no bells ringing at the name. “Don’t worry, he’s not important anyway.” Kit joking, giving the camera a slight side-eye as she remembered that she was still being filmed for Taylor’s PR.

“So how do the teams work? Do you still compete?” Taylor asked with genuine curiosity. Kit took a seat in front of one of the engineering stations and gestured for her to follow suit.

“We get, like, a certain amount of points for each finish in a race, so 25 points for first, 18 for second, and it gets smaller until 10th, then 11 to 20 don’t get any points. So, if you get a certain position your points go towards your personal championship, and towards the team’s championship. And then your teammate’s also go towards his personal championship and the team’s. So like, you wanna beat your teammate so that you beat them overall, but you still want them to do well for the team’s sake.” Kit said, keeping an eye on the entrance to this side of the garage for any sign of Max. 

“So is it like friendly between you two, or…” Taylor asked.

“Um, most teammates are friends, yeah.” Kit said, purposefully misinterpreting the question. 

“Oh, I see how it is.” Taylor said suggestively, and now Kit was really lost. She thought that Taylor would think that she hated Max, which wouldn’t exactly be false, but that’s not what she seemed to be implying. 

“What, how what is?” Kit asked, trying to not appear too desperate to know. 

“Well, are you two like, a thing?” She asked, laughing at Kit’s horrified face. 

“God no, oh my god, are you joking? I would rather French kiss a toilet brush, ew.” Kit said, bordering on hysteria at how quickly she spat out her words. 

“Okay, guess I got the wrong idea.” Taylor continued to laugh. “I’d love to meet him though, if that’s not like, weird. I should know both the team members before I start cheering you on, right?” Taylor said. Kit tried to smile along and not show the grimace that she could feel forming instinctually. 

“I’m not sure where he is, but we can just walk around the pit lane until we find him, if that’s okay with you.” Kit said, a little bit disappointed at Taylor’s agreeing nod. “Ooh, I know who you should meet first though.”

The pair walked down the pit lane towards the Renault garages, only gaining a few looks as there was no shortage of celebrities to gawk at. “That guy? You seem like you would be friends.” Taylor said, pointing at the smiling picture of Daniel. 

“Oh yeah, and he’s Aussie too, so that just makes it even better.” Kit smiled. 

“So that’s where you’re from, is it bad I couldn’t figure it out this whole time?” Taylor said, and Kit just laughed at the American-ness of it. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’ll get really obvious when you hear us both together. Oh, hey, sorry, do you know where I could find Daniel?” Kit asked an engineer she’d seen around when coming to visit Daniel in his garage before. 

“He’s over there.” The man said, pointing to the back corner of the garage where Daniel was chatting happily, race suit on (probably for some media thing) and head thrown back in laughter, typical smile on his face. And who, you might ask, was standing opposite him, also smiling and laughing merrily as if he wasn’t the biggest dick on the planet? That question doesn’t even need an answer. 

“Oh, that’s your teammate, right?” Taylor asked innocently. 

“Unfortunately.” Kit sighed, trying not to sound too genuinely pissed off and just like her annoyance was a bit of banter. She’d committed to not only introducing Taylor to Daniel but also her teammate, so she couldn’t think of any excuse to use to not go and join them now that they were within plain sight. Maybe a heart attack would work, but then she wouldn’t be able to finish in the top 5 that weekend and that may as well be worse than death. 

“Hey guys.” Kit said, semi-interrupting their conversation. Max’s face turned to the two women and immediately dropped, and Kit was praying that Taylor’s media was too busy filming her to get any content of Kit and Max. “I don’t think I really need to introduce her, but this is Taylor, obviously. Taylor, this is Max Verstappen, my teammate, and Daniel Ricciardo, the pain in my backside.” Kit said, laughing at Daniel’s faux-offended expression. 

“Nice to meet you.” Much half-mumbled, eyes already searching for a way to get out of the conversation. 

“Enchantée, mademoiselle. Don’t believe the lies she’s feeding you.” Daniel said charmingly and with a terrible French accent, pretending to whisper despite speaking at full volume. 

“I dunno, I feel like we’ve really bonded over the past 45 minutes. I’ve only known you for 30 seconds, so…” Taylor replied, and three of the four in their little circle laughed. Any guesses on who didn’t?

“So, what’ve you ladies been up to?” Daniel asked, leaning back on the bench-desk thing behind him. 

“Did a hot lap, as per usual, then I’ve just been showing Tee-Tee around.” Kit said.

“And you didn’t manage to kill yourself? I’m impressed.” Max said, not even trying to sound like he was joking. For a flash, Kit was back in the elevator, yelling over the sound of his yelling, but then she took a deep breath and vowed not to act like a spoiled toddler in front of Taylor Swift. 

“Yeah, well, amazing what I can do without you slowing me down.” Kit replied, trying to make it sound like a joke. Luckily Daniel was trained enough to recognise the early signs of an argument and be able to interfere. 

“Settle down kids, your mother and I don’t like to see you fight.” Daniel said, clearly flirting with the singer in his weird, quirky Daniel way. 

“Mother? Damn, I didn’t think I was that old.” Taylor laughed. 

“I mean, I’ve been old in F1 since 2016 when this bugger joined the team, so that’s just the paddock effect.” Daniel grinned, giving Max a light punch on the arm. 

“You guys used to be teammates? So you just like, move teams all the time then?” Taylor asked. 

“I mean, some do. Max will probably be at RedBull until the day he dies though.” Daniel laughed, enjoying the annoyed look on Max’s face at being treated like the butt of all the jokes. 

“So how long have you two been teammates?” Taylor said, now speaking to Max and Kit. Kit appreciated the fact that Taylor was clearly trying to include Max, his silence potentially coming off as shyness and not rudeness to someone as optimistic as her. 

“Only a couple of months. We haven’t quite got the same bond as him and Daniel had yet.” Kit said, sugarcoating their relationship for the celebrity. 

“That’s one way of putting it.” Max said coldly, and Kit restrained the urge to roll her eyes and groan. Luckily they were saved again by Taylor’s PR agent informing her that they needed to leave to do a soundcheck (as she would be singing the national anthem on Sunday). 

“I’ll get my number to you somehow, I promise.” Taylor said, giving Kit a quick hug goodbye. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Kit laughed, waving as she left the garage. She had barely turned back around to start tearing into Max when her name was called again from behind her. 

“Oh, Kit, you’re here, I’ve been looking for you.” Kit turned to see Cath, the head of PR, a few metres away and seeming to be in a rush. 

“Oh, um, do I need to…” Kit said awkwardly, not wanting to leave and have to go and meet another celebrity, knowing that they would pale in comparison to Taylor, kindest woman on the planet. 

“Oh, no, you don’t need to do anything, don’t worry. I just had to bring you your man.” Cath said. Kit’s face morphed into confusion before she looked over Cath’s head to the entry of the garage and saw Matteo leaning against the wall, long and lean and beautiful and also in the US for some unknown reason. Seeming to sense eyes on him, he turned his head and broke out into a broad smile. 

“I can come in now?” Matteo said to Cath, appearing to be sick of following her around.

“Yes.” Cath said, even more unimpressed. “Don’t misbehave, you’re in public now.” She wagged her finger before leaving, letting Matteo and Kit come together in a soft but firm hug. 

“What are you doing here?” Kit said smiling, pulling away earlier than she would’ve like but feeling pressured by the presence of Daniel and Max behind her. 

“I didn’t make it into the grand finals so I figured I would come here and watch you do better than I did. If that’s okay?” Matteo said, suddenly second guessing himself. His arm was already around her shoulder and she could feel herself melting into his side. 

“Yes, of course it’s okay.” She beamed up at him. It took an awkward throat clearing from Daniel to make her snap out of her lovesick admiration for her boyfriend, turning back to see the two boys with varying degrees of emotion on their faces. While Daniel looked happy if not a bit lost for something to say, Max looked like someone had just told him he had a 20 place grid penalty. Annoyed and indignant. 

“You guys all remember meeting, right?” Kit said, trying to ignore the elephant in the room that was Matteo and Max’s only interaction, an argument over a few cans of coke.

“I mean, I think I was so drunk I thought I was looking in a mirror, but it is coming back to me now.” Daniel joked. “Actually, I must’ve been pretty hammered because I do not remember you being this tall.” Again, three of the four in the group laughed. 

“Yeah, are all drivers as short as you three, or…” Matteo said, laughing as Kit slapped him on the chest. 

“You can’t be mean, you’re on our turf now.” Kit joked. 

“Speaking of being on your turf, I think I might need a tour of that little office thing you guys have, especially your room.” Matteo said to Kit, a certain look behind his eyes that really should not be wielded in public. 

“Ew, already too much has been said. Just leave.” Daniel said dramatically, beginning to turn Kit around and push her out gently. “By-ye.” Kit sang, waving to Daniel and ignoring Max. As she walked out of the garage hand in hand with Matteo, she did hear a loud laugh from Daniel and desperately wanted to know what Max had said about her and Matteo to elicit it. Although, she was definitely more desperate to find out just exactly how much Matteo had missed her, and was willing to momentarily put aside the former query in pursuit of the latter.

Chapter Text

The roar of the American crowd was nothing compared to the roar of blood in Kit’s ears as she slowed her car to a halt on the grid following the formation lap. All she could see was the red rear wing of Seb ahead of her in second and the lights flicking on one by one. Her hands were steady on the wheel, they hadn’t shaken since her first karting race after it caused her to fling herself off the track. Still, her heart was pounding loud but steady and her toes were itching for the throttle. All she needed to was to maintain her position into the sharp left-hander of turn one and she would be set. The corner seemed miles away at the end of the first straight, but Kit knew that it would be rushing to greet her in a matter of moments. 

The five lights were illuminated, and Kit’s entire body felt like a live wire, skin electric to the touch and ready to spark. Her mind quietened for a moment of calm, the space between her and the red lights seeming to diminish to nothing from her laser focus. Her stomach dropped as the lights switched off, and her body flew into the routine that she’d practiced thousands of times. She got away well, but Max got away better. She watched as he shot past her to overtake Vettel, the Ferrari’s hard tyres doing him no favours as he appeared to be nearly sliding back on the track, until his front tyres were just behind Kit’s next to her. 

As they hurtled down the straight neck and neck, the Ferrari’s straight line speed seemed to be inching the car further and further forward on her left. Despite this, Seb appeared to have a lapse in concentration and began braking far earlier than someone would if they were truly on the limit. Kit handled her brake gingerly like it was the pedal of a sewing machine, managing to get her front wheels in front of his as they rounded the left-hander. Despite having taken the longer way around, her braking had put her marginally in front of Seb as they exited the corner and given she now had the inside racing line for the next right-hander, she was hopeful to be in a podium place after just two turns. 

Even after only being a driver for under two seasons, Kit always felt like she was in control of the car, no matter what. Her hands were steady on the wheel, her feet pushing and pulling back at exactly the right moments, sometimes it even made her crack a smile under the helmet to think of herself as Remy the rat from Ratatouille, manipulating the car to do whatever she wanted. So when she began to feel herself bracing up, tensing for an impact, it was as if her body was sensing that something was wrong, that Seb’s front right tyre was a little bit too close to the side of her car. 

Then it was like she was moving through honey. She could see Seb begin to turn into her, still only coming out of turn 1, but her hands couldn’t move fast enough to adjust her steering and move her clear of his path. All it took was a nudge, the tiniest scrape of rubber on carbon, and the honey seemed to melt away. Her eyes snapped out of their hyper focus as she was spun around and into the gravel, now suddenly aware of the blue sky above her and the gasping crowd around her. She felt like a fish that had been yanked out of its bowl. 

“FUCK! Fuck, come on.” She yelled, then began muttering to herself as she tried to coax the car out of the gravel, begging that it wouldn’t come to a stop and leave her stuck like a beached whale and consequently out of a contract. The wheels were barely making progress through the gravel and the pack of cars was long gone. 

“Kit, you’re going to be lapped shortly and your tyres will be shot, let’s retire the car.” Hugh said calmly over the radio. 

“NO! Sorry, fuck, no, I’ll pit, I don’t care.” Kit said, in the moment feeling the car gain a bit more momentum and accelerate rapidly back onto the track. She vaguely heard the crowd cheer, but it soon faded back into the distance as the ground regained its soldiness below her and she could resume the race, despite now being so far away from fifth it wasn’t funny. 

“So confirm, will you pit on the next lap?” Hugh said, still calm but with a sharper edge to it. 

“Yes. Put me on hards, I’ll go the whole race.” Kit said confidently, not an ounce of hesitation in her voice. She was taking every apex as fast as she could, not needing to worry about tyre preservation for her softs given that they would be taken off in half a minute anyway. 

“We’re looking at a two stop, maybe a three.” Hugh said, calmly rejecting her ego and anger driven statement. 

“He better get a penalty.” Kit muttered before turning off her radio, having nothing left to say. She felt frustration build within her as she forced herself to slow down to the pit lane speed, feeling as if she was crawling a marathon by how slowly she was making her way down towards the RedBull garage. 

“You’re on the hards, so you can really push to catch up and get them warmed up.” Hugh said as her car was lowered back down and she sped away, 80km feeling closer to 2km. 

“Am I lapped?” Kit asked sharply. She didn’t care what the answer was, she just needed to know.

“Yes.” Hugh said. That was what she liked about him the most, he never fluffed around trying to save her feelings. The white pit exit line couldn't come fast enough. It felt as if she was doing her start again, as she came out of the pits just behind Seb. This time, she wasn’t close enough to him to shoot down the inside or try again around the outside, having to succumb to the dirty air. And yet, all it took was the slightest wobble from the German as he took the corner a little bit too far wide for Kit to take advantage of it and get side by side once more. 

Her tyres were still young, and being the hard compound she knew she wouldn’t be able to match him for speed on his mediums. As turn 7 approached, she could feel her car struggling to accelerate out of the corner and knew that she would have to drop back until her tyres came into their own. She sighed loudly, already envisioning herself back in the Torro Rosso uniform. How stupid was she? Without the deal she’d made, this probably wouldn’t have cost her a seat. But now, knowing Christian, he wouldn’t let her return from this. She tried to be ballsy and failed.

These thoughts plagued Kit’s mind corner after corner, keeping enough distance between herself and Vettel (who was 2 seconds and a lap ahead of her) to be able to take each apex perfectly. The tyres began to feel grippier and the car seemed to be moving better underneath her. She passed him in a DRS zone, not the most satisfying but an overtake (or unlap) all the same. Then was Max, the dickhead. She knew he’d been told to let her unlap herself, given his smooth glide to the side of the track as she shot past. Hamilton was next, her DRS-enhanced rear wing letting her overtake him just before turn 19. She didn’t let herself feel satisfied, knowing that she was still in 20th. 

“How many laps have we done?” Kit asked over the radio. 

“Just started lap 12, 44 to go.” Hugh replied. He had been fairly quiet on the radio, letting Kit run her own course. 

“Okay.” Kit said. Her tyres felt great, but who knew how long that would last. COTA wasn’t exactly known for its long stints, even with her preoccupation with tyre management. And yet, the laps just seemed to be ticking away, Kit’s thoughts only concerning one corner to the next and nothing beyond it. The stripes of the curbs were nearly hypnotising, they were calling her name at every apex just begging to get flattened as she drove the car to its limit. 

“How are the tyres feeling?” Hugh asked, his voice crackling out of nothing after such a long period of silence. 

“They feel good. How do they look?” Kit replied. She felt like she was chugging along consistently, but if he was asking the question then maybe her lap times were getting slower and slower. 

“Look fine. Doing well, a few have pitted and come out behind you so P15 at the moment.” The announcement both made her stomach sink in dread and her toes wiggle in excitement. Having not overtaken anyone since Hamilton, she was beginning to worry that she’d be permanently running in P20 and would’ve wasted her hard tyres on pointlessly unlapping herself. However, the pink of a Racing Point, probably Stroll to be this far back, was looking tastier by the second. 

Kit didn’t get the chance to take a bite out of Stroll as he pitted on the next lap, clearing the air a bit more for her to truly demonstrate what a $200 million car could achieve. She was annoyed that this performance was going to be wasted on damage limitation rather than chasing for a win, but then again, it was easy to believe that she was having the drive of a lifetime when she was overtaking Haas’s and not Mercedes’. 

The grandstands rotated past her again and again like a 5km wide carousel, the sun moving across the sky so that the shadows once obscuring only part of the track now left long smudges across the asphalt. 

“Where am I?” Kit said, her brain whirring as she tried to piece together her race. 

“P12.” 

More grandstands. More cheering. More revving. More corners. More rear wings and more front wings. 

“Where are we?” 

“P9. 20 laps to go.” She was getting closer by the second, but her tyres were beginning to wear, and she was dreading each crackle of the radio in fear of the ‘box box’ message. 

“That’s a safety car, so box box. Box confirm.” Hugh said over the radio. 

“Yep.” Kit replied. She supposed it would be okay under the safety car. She could potentially recover from that. She saw a glimpse of the red tyre walls before retaking the track, only losing 2 positions. For her second quasi-race start, she managed to get away better than the Alfa Romeo on hard tyres in front of her, the softs propelling her forward and achieving a double overtake in the narrow seconds following the safety car. She saw Perez's front wing come dangerously close to her rear left in her mirrors, but luckily they both corrected themselves to avoid it and she found herself sprinting towards the top 8. 

Flash of yellow, two flashes of orange and then another yellow. The Renault-McLaren sunset painted her visor as she shot down each corner past them as if it was her last. P5 was coming within her grasp, but then again so was the chequered flag, and she could feel sweat developing above her eyebrows. And then, just like the track going round and round and round again, she was back behind Seb. His Ferrari was swiftly becoming her nightmare fuel. 

“How many laps to go?” Kit practically panted into the radio, all of her energy focused on the drive. 

The radio crackled but then fell dead. Another crackle, then silence. “Hello?” She asked. Nothing. “Hugh? What lap am I on?” Kit asked again, a note of panic entering her voice and she turned her head marginally in tandem with the corner. Her in-ears felt like they were made out of lead and her heart, still beating strongly, increased its speed. “Can anyone hear me?” Her ears began roaring again, but still no radio. She didn’t understand why so much panic was setting into her bones, but it was as if she’d just been cut off from P5, like somehow the radio was the only thing keeping her in check. Now she was just driving, all alone. Her hands began to shake. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, fuck, FUCK.” Kit said to herself as she tried to keep a tail on Seb. He’d learnt from their past two interactions, he was making no mistakes. Every corner he was on the apex, he was taking the wide line then the racing line, he wasn’t opening any doors. She had no idea what lap they were on, given her preoccupation with overtaking the feisty Renaults and McLarens. They might not have been in equal machinery to her, but fuck were they good drivers. 

“Come on baby, come on, please.” She tried to motivate herself to push more, but her tyres were starting to fade and Seb was sticking to every corner like a feather on tar. She pictured everything, her mum, her dad, Matteo, fucking Taylor Swift. Nothing. She couldn’t believe she was about to lose a seat from losing out on P5. If it was a podium then sure, there’s a bit more credit in that? But P5? No one thinks P5 is good. 

Max’s face flashed into her mind. “You’ll never win a championship.” He said in his monotone voice that was so ingrained into Kit’s mind she could practically hear it echoing under her helmet. “Not if I’m your teammate.” She would show that stuck-up, arrogant, infuriating, shithead cunt that she could win a fucking championship, and in that moment, all she needed to do that was get past Seb. It wasn’t for a championship, it wasn’t for a podium, but he was the only thing between her and her future, and she would willingly give Max a high five before she let that Ferrari stop her. 

If she was laser focused before, this was a whole other level of psycho. She was forcing herself to take deep breaths around every corner, calming her mind. The pair were compressing and rarefying into and out of each corner. Kit was braking later and later, just trying to get within DRS for turn 19. If she could’ve crossed her fingers, she would’ve. She practically yelled in excitement as the mode appeared on her screen and her car acted as if it was flying through the Mario Kart speed tracks, edging past Seb to be able to take the inside line into 19. He seemed to fall back dramatically after that, allowing her to swing wide and hit the apex perfectly, emerging onto the pit straight. 

She was trying to accelerate well out of the corner to get out of Seb’s DRS zone, her gaze only flicking upwards for a moment. And in that moment, the chequered flag was there above her head, waved by none other than Taylor herself. Kit yelled out in excitement, not embarrassed by her enthusiasm at P5 given her team couldn’t hear anything she said. 

“That’s fucking right, fuck yes, oh thank god.” She could feel her muscles untensing, not realising how taught she’d been holding herself for the entirety of the race. That would hurt tomorrow, but she would have her gorgeous boyfriend and her career prospects intact to help her deal with the pain. Parc fermé seemed to be buzzing more than usual, and it wasn’t until she saw her own most recent overtake playing on the big screen behind the podium interviews that she understood why. 

“Kit, mate, you were on fire.” Seb said, approaching her as they both removed their helmets. 

“Oh, fuck, thanks. I was shitting myself that whole race.” She replied. Her laugh felt genuine and light as it left her mouth. 

“I like how you overtook me even though I had a penalty anyway. I respect that.” Seb said, giving her a brotherly clap on the shoulder as they walked towards the motorhomes. 

“You had a penalty?” Kit said in surprise. 

“Yep, they took their sweet time with it too, I didn’t find out until there were about 5 laps to go.” He said, still seeming to not be too concerned despite the penalty losing him a place. 

“Oh, of course.” Kit laughed, this one less relieved and more frustrated at the universe. She had just killed herself for a measly P5 and it didn’t mean anything anyway. 

“What?” He asked. 

“My radio, it, I dunno, died or something? Like it cut out with only a few laps to go, so I didn't know you had a penalty, I didn’t know how fast you were, and I didn’t know how many laps I had to overtake you. Just my bloody luck.” Kit scoffed.

“You wanna talk about bad luck? Try driving for Ferrari.” Seb said, sending her a wink as he walked to the Ferrari motorhome further down the paddock. Kit pushed the doors open to the motorhome roughly, immediately greeted by the sound of the podium ceremony playing on every TV in the main room. Max stood on the podium, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the British national anthem played for Lewis’s win. All the employees who couldn’t normally fit in the garage had cleared out to the area below the podium, leaving a handful of people left in the room, one being Matteo. 

His tensed brow relaxed as he turned at the sound of the doors, seeing Kit’s exhausted body shuffling across the floor and slumping in a chair next to him. She knew that sitting would only make it more painful when she would inevitably have to get up again in a matter of minutes to go do her media, but the feeling of his arm around her was something she needed to motivate her through. 

“I’m proud of you.” Matteo murmured into her hair. Kit just closed her eyes, trying to subdue the tears that were pooling in her eyes. Her hands were still shaking, and Matteo took them in his to try and calm them before she would re-enter the public view. She’d told him about her deal with Christian yesterday before qualifying, and despite telling her that the whole thing sounded illegal and dodgy (he had a point), he knew she could do it. While Hugh was there for her during the race to tell her how it is, Matteo was there after to say that it was all going to be okay, and she needed both to get through her weekends. 

“Thanks.” Kit replied softly, trying to push herself further into his t-shirt but having nowhere more to go. The champagne music began to play from the TV and she couldn’t stop herself from looking as she watched Max and Charles spray each other with champagne, knowing it could've been her. It would be her, she told herself. After today, it had to be. 

“Do you have to go?” Matteo said softly. His hands were moving up and down her upper arm and Kit wanted nothing more than to stay in that position forever.

“I think so.” She sighed, watching as Max waved to the crowd before leaving the stage. Her teeth were actually clenched at the sight.

“Buona fortuna, bella.” Matteo murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Her legs felt like playdough as she stood up, and she struggled to unzip her racesuit with her still shaking hands. Matteo stood up and lifted his hands to cover hers. Kit didn’t step back, so they were now chest to chest. His hands were gentle as they pulled off the velcro strap at the neckline and drew the zip down, even pushing the fabric off her shoulders and down her arms. As if to punctuate the action, he began to smooth down the hair around her temples, curling strands behind her ear as if they were strands of spun gold. Kit didn’t need to say anything, just reaching up for a soft peck in parting. 

The media pen was buzzing with excitement, the three different teams on the podium providing fodder for a pack of journalists tired of reporting on Mercedes’ 1-2 finishes. Kit gratefully accepted a baseball cap from a RedBull PR employee and made her way to her first interview of many. 

“Kit, how are you?” The French journalist asked. 

“Yeah, not bad. Bit of a hard slog that one though. How are you?” She replied. 

“Oh, well I’m fine.” The journalist said, seeming taken aback by the question. “Now, that was a bit of a wild race for you, are you happy with the result today?” 

“Um, I mean yes and no. Given the incident in lap 1 I’ll say yes, because I’m proud to have made up 15 places, but at the same time seeing RedBull on the podium today and it not being me is never fun, and so obviously the car had the pace today to be in the thick of it and I didn’t get that benefit.” Kit glanced around, not wanting to make awkwardly intense eye contact with the interviewer, but decided that that was a better alternative after Max arrived beside her to begin his rounds of interviews. She didn’t want to be reminded of his podium. 

“On the radio you sounded relieved to make it to fifth, was that just in the moment then?” The interviewer asked. 

“On the radio? So, you could hear me?” Kit said. 

“Yes?” The journalist replied awkwardly. 

“Oh, well, yeah, I guess in the moment I was just happy to have made the overtake on Seb, which I wouldn’t have had to do had my radio been working because apparently he had a 5 second time penalty, but yeah. In the moment, kinda thing.” Kit said, her stream of thought jumping from one thing to another. 

“Speaking of Seb, have you spoken to him at all?”

“Oh, yeah, he came up to me right after the race. He didn’t apologise or anything, cos Seb Vettel doesn’t do that, but yeah, it’s all fine. He got a penalty and I finished in front of him so I guess it all sort of balanced out.” Kit said, grinning properly now at the idea of Seb apologising for anything on the track. She could still see his earlier performance at Canada that year playing in full clarity. 

“You don’t seem that annoyed about it?” The interviewer queried. 

“I mean, I am, and I definitely was in the moment, and it’s a frustrating situation to be in, but these things happen and he got his penalty.” Kit said. 

“Well, thank you very much for speaking to us today, good luck for Brazil.” Kit gave a parting smile before moving on to her next interview. It unreasonably bothered her that Max moved alongside her, his following of the routine that every other driver followed as well somehow unbearable to Kit. She didn’t help herself either though. Every few seconds she was glancing towards him, unable to stop herself from giving him a withering stare. The smile on his face made her stomach turn. 

Kit was bid farewell from the paddock by the final interviewer about 45 minutes later, and swiftly turned to exit to get away from Max. She didn’t get far though. 

“Kit, mate. Well done today. Showed us all how much you want it, hey?” Christian said, approaching from the Sky Sports interview stage where he’d clearly just been gushing about the ‘great team effort’. She struggled not to give him the Max look, remembering how unprofessionally she'd acted in Mexico and how astounding it was that Christian actually took her deal. Although after today, it seemed like he did it to teach her a lesson rather than help her. 

“Thanks, you know it.” She joked, forcing out a laugh.

“And sorry about that radio issue, the sparkies are on it now so it won't happen again.” Kit had introduced the team to the term sparky when addressing the electricians, and it had become a very popular word in the garage.

“Yeah, thanks, to be fair I probably wouldn't have overtaken Seb if it was working, so maybe it's a good thing.” She smiled tightly.

“Ooh, yes. That was nice to watch.” Christian said in his sly, super-villain tone. “You’d best be off then. Press conference?”

“Yep, see you later.” She departed. Somewhere in between interviews she'd had a water bottle thrust into her hand and was now sipping from the straw meditatively. The water felt icy down her throat, and it helped her to calm her mind before the press conference.

She was seated next to Seb, presumably to create a bit of tension for the press, but found herself enjoying his company more and more after Christian’s comment and the fact that he didn't seem to resent her for his penalty. She doubted the same attitude would be taken by certain other RedBull golden boys on the grid.

She noticed more eyes on her than usual as she sat down, suddenly becoming slightly self-conscious with just the fireproofs covering her top. It had been a fairly hot race, so she wasn't the only driver without the top of the race suit done up, but obviously she was the only one to be revealing anything when she did so. She crossed her arms on the table, trying to look like she was just resting that way and wasn't in a shitty mood.

“Kit, let's come to you first. P5 today, and you sounded pretty happy with that on the radio.” A few chuckles echoed across the room.

“Uh, yeah.” She laughed. “I didn’t realise I could still be heard, so I let loose a bit more than I normally would after P5. Plus, we made it up from lapped and dead last, so I’m pretty happy with that.” She smiled, and it was genuine now, remembering her performance without it being tainted by Max or Christian.

“Your seat hasn't been confirmed publicly yet, is there any development on that and was that part of the reason you were so determined to make up the places today?” Well, there it is.

“No development, um, obviously RedBull have the luxury of a large pool of drivers to pick from so I haven't been confirmed yet for next year at RedBull, but I will have a seat even if it's at Torro Rosso. But yeah, I always wanna drive the best I can and do well for myself and the team no matter what.” Kit affirmed. They didn't need to know about her and Christian’s alleyway handshake deal.

“Seb, onto you now. There was that collision between you and Kit around turn 1 lap 1, how do you think that affected your race?” Seb took a sip of water before answering.

“Well I had a 5 second penalty, so obviously that.” He said. “But that didn't really matter because Kit overtook me anyway, and after seeing that she wasn't going to back out in lap 1 and then again on her out lap, I sort of kept my distance.” 

“So no bad blood between you two?” Kit and Seb turned to look at each other instinctually, smiling at their synchronicity. 

“Not at all. I mean I spun her so I can say that from my perspective. During the race I definitely thought I was in the right because you can't really tell the exact position of the other car, but after watching the video it was my fault. She got me back anyway.” He smiled.

The press conference continued on nearly without a hitch. The lack of tension between her and Seb meant that most of the prepared questions fell a bit flat, neither seeming angry at the other. Clearly that had to change. 

“Question for Kit. After watching the interview footage from the media pen, it’s clear to see that you’re unhappy with your teammate despite nothing occurring between you on the track. This is obviously very different to your feelings towards Seb, who caused you to be relegated to 20th at the beginning of the race. So is your attitude just jealousy?” The journalist asked. His tone of voice was the sort of know-it-all nasal that typically asked these sorts of questions. The I'm-intelligent-because-I-know-you-better-than-you-know-yourself type. 

“Um, no?” Kit said, smiling in semi-disbelief, eyes flitting towards the other drivers to see if they were just as shocked by the frankness of the question. They seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, hoping to not be asked a similar question. “If I seemed unhappy at all it was just because our car had podium pace today and I didn’t get to use that to its full advantage, while clearly Max did.” She tried not to spit his name out of her mouth. 

“But you don’t deny that you get along better with other drivers than with Max?” The journalist pestered. She could see a smile forming at the corners of his mouth, and she wanted to smack it right off. 

“Did I say that?” She replied snappily. She wasn’t smiling anymore, but she tried not to look angry. 

“Okay, maybe let’s move onto the next question.” The main F1 journalist said, looking awkwardly around the room. Kit began to sip on her water again, trying to calm herself down like a baby with a bottle. 

Later that evening, the team meeting ended with a happy Christian, a happy Max, and a faux-happy Kit. Matteo practically enveloped her in his arms as she entered her driver room, his chest warm and solid under her hands. 

“I don’t want you to go.” Kit said. While being able to join her for a few days in the US, he did have his own life and job and commitments to sponsors and training, so he wouldn’t be able to stay with her for 2 weeks in Brazil before the race. She’d made her arrangements when she first signed with RedBull and while she was mostly excited to spend a fortnight relaxing under the South American spring sky, she also liked having someone there for her at the end of the race who wasn’t being paid for their presence. 

“I’m sorry bella. Maybe one day I’ll become your trophy husband and just come around with you everywhere.” Matteo grinned, his embrace loosening slightly so that they could look at each other. 

“Mm, I like the sound of that.” Kit said, her arms now having the room to wrap themselves around his middle. It wasn’t long after that that they were leaving the motorhome alongside the majority of the crew. Matteo’s arm was slung over her shoulders and he was carrying her sports bag full of all the random shit she needed on a race day. Kit smiled to herself as his grip tightened at the sight of Max, even if the slightly-macho behaviour potentially wasn’t the healthiest. She hated Max too, that was just one more thing they could have in common. 

Chapter Text

The November weather in Rio was exactly what the doctor ordered for Kit. It was humid, but having the ability to sit by the pool all day meant that she really didn't mind. And now that it was her Saturday off in between races, that was exactly what she was going to do. There were a few other drivers staying at the same hotel, not wanting to fly back to Europe for a week just to come back to the Americas. But, seeing as most of the crew didn't have that luxury, there were very few Formula 1 faces surrounding her and the freedom felt like a breath of fresh air. Kit was beginning to realise that the person she became during a race weekend was getting more and more separated from who she was out of the car, more serious and less carefree, and she wanted to use all her non-work time to try and get that person back.

Usually she'd feel self-conscious going to a semi-public pool in a bikini, not feeling insecure about her body but uncomfortable when she knew that people would be taking photos of her without her knowing. Yet still, the tourism season hadn’t properly kicked into effect yet, and she knew that Daniel was going to be at the pool as well, so that made her feel brave enough to replace her pyjamas with a two piece. It was moments like these where she wished she had Matteo with her all the time. They’d only been dating for two months, but she'd already gotten used to the luxury of a boyfriend. Less people bothered her, she felt protected, and there was always the hotel room activities as an added bonus. 

Kit covered up her bikini with a loose linen button up and some matching white shorts. She smiled as she remembered herself buying the set a few years ago with one of her high school friends during a rare weekend at home. She couldn't remember the last time she went shopping like that. 

Her thongs slapped down the quiet hotel elevator, and she already felt relaxed as she made her way to the pool, towel in hand. The humid air was warm around her even if she could feel her hair frizzing up by the second. While her hair dried semi-curly, she was used to having it blow dried or covered by a helmet. There were only two races left of the season, and she was already counting down the days until she could go back to Aus for a month and live like this everyday. There was nothing she loved more than racing, but just over 2 months at RedBull had exhausted her more than her time at Sauber and Torro Rosso put together.

Kit exited out onto the pool level and slipped on her sunglasses to avoid squinting at the bright sunshine. It was nearly midday and the sun was right overhead. She'd learnt her lesson after getting sunburnt during her summer break the previous year and having to wear her skintight fireproofs on raw skin, so she scanned the large poolside area for loungers in the shade. Unfortunately everyone that was there seemed to have the same idea, as only one chair under a large umbrella was unoccupied by either a person or their things. Although the seat next to it had a towel, shirt and thongs splayed over it, she figured she could just read her book and pretend to ignore the person when they got out of the pool.

She placed her bag and towel down at the foot of the seat before sitting down herself and shrugging off her top to start putting on her sunscreen. Kit was an Aussie, so she took her sun safety very seriously; she would not be getting in that pool until she knew the spf had truly soaked in. As she absentmindedly rubbed in the sunscreen all over her torso, she swivelled her head around to see if Daniel had come down already but gone unnoticed by her. She thought she spotted him in the pool, but realised upon the man turning around that it was just one of the many tanned bodies circulating the hotel. 

“Ugh, of course.” Kit heard someone grunt from behind her. Her stomach dropped at the familiar voice, and she prayed that it wasn't the one person she was hoping to avoid as she turned around.

“Max?” Kit said flatly, looking at him over the top of her sunglasses and squinting at the bright sunlight.

“Why did you have to sit here, of all places?” Max asked gruffly. He walked past her to the adjacent lounger, his board shorts and hair dripping wet from the pool water. He shook his hair like a dog with his head purposefully pointed in Kit’s direction so that she would be rained in water. She tried her hardest not to flinch.

“It was the only spot left in the shade. I’m sorry my presence is so inconvenient for you.” Kit replied. She finished rubbing in her sunscreen, having definitely missed some spots on her back but being more willing to have an uncomfortable sunburn than voluntarily ask Max to touch her. He chose not to reply.

The pair were now stuck in a tense equilibrium. Both wanted the other to leave, but neither were willing to lose the silent battle and leave themselves. They looked like a pair of parents on the verge of divorce trying to hold it together for their kids on a family holiday: Kit, shirt back on but unbuttoned, reading her book, and Max with his wet swimmers and sunglasses, trying to look nonchalant as he scrolled through his phone. Both trying to pretend the other wasn't there. Kit was grateful that no one at the pool seemed to care who they were, because she didn't want to fuel the teammate-drama-centric discussion in the paddock.

“Well well well, what's going on here?” Kit heard from above her. She was so focused on her book (in an attempt to ignore her situation) that she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Daniel’s cheery voice. Neither her nor Max replied, and Kit just shifted down her sunglasses to give him an annoyed, unimpressed and squinty look of irritation. By his explosive laughter, she knew that Max must be doing something similar behind her.

“I know you guys love each other, you don't have to be so obvious about it.” Daniel said as he started settling himself onto the chair next to Kit, placing her in between the two men. That way, Daniel was ensuring she had no escape. Bastard. “Hang on, I have to capture this pivotal moment.” He said cheekily as he patted his pockets for his phone.

“You really don't.” Max said. That didn't deter Daniel. The two younger drivers had gone from apathetic parents to uncooperative siblings being forced to take a photo together. Kit lifted up a hand over her eyes, semi-scowling at the camera. Daniel laughed before flipping around the phone to show the pair the photo. If it was anyone else, Kit would've found it funny. Her and Max both squinted up at Daniel with disgruntled expressions, the discarded book and phone in their respective laps showing their annoyance and being interrupted, as well as their annoyance at the person sitting next to them.

“I’m posting that.” Daniel said, the smile on his face showing how proud of himself he was. Kit’s stomach dropped slightly before convincing herself that if Daniel posted a jokey photo where Max and her looked like they hated each other, it might just make people think that they were actually getting along better. “Best…friends.” Daniel said slowly as presumably he typed out the caption. 

“You're such a shit stirrer.” Kit said, rolling her eyes.

“That's why you love me.” He smiled. He took off his loose t-shirt in one swoop over the head, his unshaded position in full sun making Kit cringe.

“Would you put some sunscreen on?” She said.

“Yeah alright mum , chuck us some.” Daniel replied. He began lathering it on his arms, shoulders and chest, then turning with an expectant look on his face.

“You want me to do your back?” Kit asked, interpreting his non-verbal communication.

“I mean, if you insist.” Daniel winked. If he didn't act this way with every person he spoke to, man or woman, Kit would’ve thought that Daniel had the hots for her. 

“Pff.” Kit heard Max scoff from behind her.

“Got a problem, Max?” Kit said without turning around as she messily applied the sunscreen to Daniel’s back. 

“Did I say anything?” He replied. Kit gave Daniel a pat on the shoulder as a signal that she was done and returned to her earlier position. “No, really, did I say something?” Max pestered. Kit snapped her book shut and turned her upper body to face him.

“You made a noise.” She said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, I didn't realise I couldn't make noise.” His sunglasses made his expression even more irritating. 

“You can do whatever you want, Max.” Kit replied.

“Really? Thanks for your permission.” Max said sarcastically. “Daniel, did you hear that? Kit said I can do whatever I want.” The sound of her name in his mouth made Kit’s gut clench.

“Kids, I just wanna relax, so shut the fuck up.” Daniel said, his voice muffled by his forearms as he was still lying face down. Kit knew now that she was too annoyed to be able to read in peace and decided that her only option for temporary escape was the water. She shuffled her shorts off and slid off her top, folding the pair nealty at the foot of the lounger before standing up and leaving the relative coolness of the shade. 

“I’m going for a swim.” She said tokenistically. If Daniel wasn't there she wouldn't have bothered, but she hadn't become completely uncivilised from being in such close proximity to Max, despite his lack of manners when it came to most people.

“Good for you.” Max murmured after she'd turned her back, Kit not even humouring him with an acknowledgement that she'd heard him.

Kit felt goosebumps run up her legs at the contrast between the cold water and the humid air, but it was a welcome change under the unobscured sun. She realised her sunglasses were still on her face, just another small annoyance compounding Max’s presence. Still wanting to feel the relief of the water against her scalp, she lifted the glasses above her head as she submerged herself. The water on the backs of her eyelids was like heaven, and for a second she really did forget that the season was still ongoing and she wasn't on a holiday yet.

Kit did the nanna-breast stroke (head above water) over to the other side of the pool where she could see a long step just underneath the surface. It provided her a seat where she could stay immersed in the water, resting her arms on the side of the pool and leaning her head back to bathe in the sunlight. Her eyes closed instinctually with the heat nearly lulling her to sleep. It took a small child splashing very enthusiastically and very close to her to jolt her out of her reverie. 

Now on high alert, she was perfectly positioned to see Daniel and Max both looking at her phone lying on the chair, and a bolt of dread ran through her. Surely they hadn't guessed her password? But they weren't touching her phone, so it wouldn't be that. No, they must be reading her notifications instead. She did a bit of mental maths in her head to realise that Matteo would’ve just finished his second training session 5 hours ahead in Monaco and audibly groaned at the thought of what they could be reading. Matteo never said anything dirty, he was too much of a romantic to do that over text, but it was that romantic nature that made him say some sappy things when he really missed her. And going off her own emotions, that would probably be the case.

Kit’s breast stroke on the way back had a bit more intensity as she watched Max and Daniel continue to discuss whatever they were looking at with great amusement. 

“Back already?” Daniel laughed.

“You two look dodgy.” Kit smiled, unable to resist after seeing Daniel’s wide grin and thinking of her boyfriend.

“Lover boy wants to talk to you.” Daniel said. His contact in her phone was still ‘Matteo Berrettini 🇮🇹🍻🤢’, so not exactly subtle. He passed her the locked phone, a multitude of notifications all grouped under the same banner: missed call. It made Kit’s stomach drop. Usually he would call her once if he really wanted to talk and then just wait for her to call him back. He’d never called 4 times in a row before. 

“I’ll be back in a sec.” Kit said as she slipped on her shorts, not bothering with a top in the resort where most people were wandering around in swimmers. She hesitated slightly over the notification, but bit the bullet and dialed the number, knowing that she was probably just overthinking things. They were across the Atlantic ocean, for starters. Physically, nothing could’ve happened. 

The phone rang, and rang, then clicked. “Hey.” Kit heard Matteo’s voice over the line. She forced herself not to hyper-analyse the inflections in his voice and just let him say what he had to say. 

“Hey, what’s up?” She replied in an effort to sound nonchalant. 

“Can we talk for a bit?” Matteo said. Kit felt sick. 

“Uh, sure. Should I, I mean I’m sort of out, should I like…” Kit said, unsure of how to proceed. She didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway leading to the elevator, although she still refused to believe that something was seriously wrong. Hopefully he just had an STD or something, although hopefully probably wasn’t the word of choice. 

“Um, yeah. Go back to your room.” Matteo said. It made her feel like she was being watched, unsure of how he knew where she was without her saying so, and for a moment she got her hopes up that he had come to surprise her again. He sounded too serious for that option. 

“I’m alone now, what did you want to talk about?” Kit said as she entered the elevator and pressed the button for her room. She was glad that she’d had the foresight to put the room keycard in her phone case, given she had forgotten to go back and get her stuff from the pool. 

“I just, ah, fuck, I don’t know where to start.” Matteo sighed. Kit’s heart was beating faster by the second. She didn’t reply, not sure what to say to fix the tension that had formed across the line. “Daniel’s post?” He asked tentatively, and it took Kit a full, empty 30 seconds just to realise what he was talking about. 

“From like, 2 minutes ago? What about it?” She said. It took all of her self control to remember she was talking to her boyfriend, not Max, keeping the quickly irritated Racing-Kit at bay. 

“Seriously? You know it looks like you and Max are fucking, right?” The sentence took the wind out of her. The elevator doors opened and she didn’t move, her entire body taking a moment to process the information she was receiving. 

“I…I don’t even, Matteo, what?” Kit stuttered. She had to put all of her concentration into putting one foot in front of another and getting the keycard out of her phone case while still holding it to her ear, zero brain function left for communication. 

“Don’t act like that.” He said, taking on a scolding tone. 

“Like what? I don’t even know how to reply to that?” Kit said, her sentence ending in a questioning tone only reinforcing her confusion. 

“Like you’re oblivious! Every driver other than Daniel constantly looks like they wanna fuck you, why do you sound suprised?” Matteo was starting to sound angry now, whereas Kit sat forcefully down on the edge of the bed and felt her whole body go numb. She must be having an out of body experience. This wasn’t her kind, affectionate, beautiful boyfriend. This was someone else. 

“Matteo, where is this coming from? And even if that was true, which it isn’t, Max is the last person you should be worried about.” Kit said, struggling to string her words together coherently. 

“Oh, so who should I be worried about?” He fired down the line. 

“Matteo, fuck, you know that’s not what I mean. Since when, I just, what is this?” Kit scrambled to find the words and was coming up empty. 

“I don’t want to share you with 19 guys, Kit.” Matteo using her actual name made a cold shiver run through her. 

“Share me? Am I a toy? Jesus Matteo, you’re my boyfriend, I don’t want to be with anyone else.” Kit said, both desperate and angry at the same time. 

“Then why did Daniel post a photo of you and Max? Why are you even with him, if you hate him so much?” Matteo interrogated. 

“We’re staying in the same hotel and we’re both friends with Daniel. It was a coincidence and we clearly aren’t enjoying ourselves.” Kit tried to explain rationally. 

“It looks like you’re clearly annoyed at Daniel for interrupting something between you.” Matteo replied. 

“What even-I can’t, I don’t know what to say. Where is this coming from?” Kit said for the second time, her mind still reeling. 

“I’m here alone while you’re off in Brazil, and I don’t enjoy seeing you half naked with other guys. God, what a surprise!” Matteo spat, on the verge of yelling. 

“Matteo, all my coworkers are men. And I’m not off in Brazil , I have a race. How are you shocked by this? What did you expect when we started going out?” She asked in disbelief at his rationale for getting angry at her. 

“I expected you to not flaunt yourself for everyone to see.” Her boyfriend (well, now only technically) replied. 

“Flaunt - are you - what the fuck Matteo?” Kit sputtered. 

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.” He said flatly. He didn’t even sound upset, just resigned, as if there really was no other option to a problem he’d essentially invented in his own mind. If Kit was winded before, she was suffocating now. Tears began welling in her eyes and her throat felt like it was closing up. She hadn’t liked someone the way she liked Matteo, well, ever , and she couldn’t believe it was slipping out of her grasp. Couldn’t and wouldn’t believe it. 

“Matteo, I don’t - that’s just it?” Kit tried to stop her voice from wobbling, but it was getting harder and harder.

“What do you say ‘just it’ for, I’ve watched this shit since the day we met, sorry I don’t want to deal with it anymore.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His voice was the same, but Kit couldn’t imagine that it was really him on the other end of the line. The 180° from less than a week ago to now was giving her whiplash. 

“Deal with what ? There’s nothing else I can do? You just wanna call it quits over nothing?” Kit sniffled loudly, her efforts to not sound angry undermined by her audibly upset disposition. 

“I just don’t think we’re right for each other.” Matteo said, only an inkling of sadness in his voice.

“We are , I only have two races left and then I don’t have to travel for months, it’ll be easier, I promise. Just wait for the first of December, please.” Kit realised that she’d started begging, but she’d never been broken up with before, only dumped her quasi-boyfriend at 16. She didn’t know how to process the flurry of emotions within her. 

“I can’t, Kit. It’ll be the same next year, these people are your colleagues and I can’t change that. I just, I just can’t.” Matteo said definitively. 

“We have one problem, one fight and you’re out? Just like that?” Kit continued her astonished questioning. 

“It’s not, I’m just, we’re just not gonna work out.” Matteo held his ground.

“Fine, you know what, if you want to switch up on me that’s fine. I thought you were really in it for the long haul, but I guess I was wrong. Go and find yourself a girl who’ll follow your every move and never talk to another man without your supervision, see if I fucking care.” The anger had finally risen inside of Kit as she hung up the phone, slumping back onto the bed and dissolving into tears. Because she did care, she cared a fucking lot more than she wanted to. 

She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d just gotten comfortable around the tennis player. She felt herself relying on the safety of having someone there , whenever she needed. She felt safe around him. When his arm was around her shoulders or her waist she was invincible. While this should’ve been a warning sign that he might eventually have a problem like the one he’d just voiced, nothing could’ve prepared Kit for this. Five minutes ago she had a boyfriend who she thought she would be spending the next two months with in domestic bliss, and now she was lying in a mess of duna and pillows, tears dampening the fabric as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. 

He’d broken up with her over an instagram photo. An instagram photo where her and Max were physically separated by about a metre of space. Her chest felt empty and aching at the same time. She clutched one of the pillows to her body as she continued to cry. So this is what it felt like to get your heart broken, she thought to herself bitterly. She hadn’t realised how far deep she was for the man until that moment, and she wasn’t even thinking about how she felt, the tears just kept pouring out of her as she tried to hold back fully fledged sobs. 

As she lay on the hotel bed and stared at the wall, Kit began to think of the two months they’d been together that felt like it had passed by her in about 2 minutes. She fell too fast, that was her diagnosis. She got too close too quickly, and that was all the Italian man needed to be able to take her in his hands and break her in two. She was an idiot. A desperate, horny, naive idiot who gave her heart over to some charming stranger that, realistically, she had only ever seen one side to, and was now paying the price. 

Kit patted the bed for her phone without sitting up. An hour had passed since she’d left the pool, but she ignored the texts from Daniel asking if she was okay. She felt numb. She felt empty. She felt confused. She felt like her body had gone into shock and still hadn’t processed what had happened, despite also feeling like she’d cried the Nile River. Out of a sort of self sabotage, Kit opened Instagram. Not following that many people, it wasn’t surprising that the incriminating photo was what appeared first. 

Matteo was off his fucking rocker, although that thought didn’t make Kit feel that much better. She zoomed in on every point of the picture, her expression, Max’s expression, their body language, even Daniel’s shadow. If, in some alternate hellscape universe, she was Max’s girlfriend and she had seen a photo like that of him with a girl, any girl, let alone one he actively and publicly despised, her first thought wouldn’t even be close to ‘they’re fucking’, or that it could look like they were. She stared at the photo blankly for what seemed like both seconds and years. How, what, why, questions bounced around in her brain like a pinball machine.

Sometime after staring at the photo in disbelief, Kit’s body clearly decided it needed a rest and took matters into its own hands, dozing off to sleep without any resistance. When she woke, it was to the sound of knocking at her door and the bright but slightly altered sunlight of the afternoon as opposed to midday. Her mouth had that gross post-nap feeling, and her brain was fuzzy from disorientation. Still, she had the forethought to find a t-shirt to put on over her bikini before opening the door.

“Hey.” Daniel said in slight surprise at the sight of a dishevelled Kit beyond the door. He was holding her bag and thongs, and she could see her belongings haphazardly stuffed inside the tote. 

“Hey.” Kit said. It was one of those moments where, despite not having cried for hours, you’re unable to hold the tears back and the floodgates opened once more. 

“Jesus Kit.” Daniel muttered as he stepped inside her room and closed the door behind him. He dropped her belongings on the floor and enveloped her in a hug, the feeling of his chest only reminding her of Matteo and causing her to cry harder. “What happened?” He asked softly, hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. 

“He…I don’t even know.” Kit admitted, only crying harder. She felt herself being guided over to the bed and pushed down gently to sit against the headboard. Her eyes were closed and her face was in her hands, but she leaned into Daniel beside her on the bed when she felt his hand gently bring her head to his shoulder. “My shoulder to cry on.” Kit tried to joke, her laugh sounding more like a cough as the tears continued to stream out. 

“Do you wanna talk about it? You don’t have to.” Daniel said comfortingly. What was she on? She didn’t need some selfish boyfriend to rely on, she would always have Daniel. And Charles. And Hugh. And basically everyone in the paddock except for Max. 

She sniffled loudly. “Yeah, I do.” She shuffled to sit more upright and tried to take some deep breaths to be able to talk properly. She accepted some tissues from Daniel, wiping her eyes before blowing her nose wetly. “He, he reckoned that the photo you took, I don’t even know, he said it made it look like there was something between Max and I, which fuck, like what? And then he was talking about having to share me with 19 other drivers? Which is so fucking stupid? And then he was annoyed I was away or something. I don’t even know.” Kit could feel the lump in her throat growing again, but she was determined to finish her recount. “Whatever it was, he decided that we should break up. He just couldn’t be bothered to work it out and he fucking dumped me over the phone about 3 seconds after seeing the photo.” 

Kit cried into Daniel’s shirt, welcoming the soothing feeling of his arms around her. “What an ass hat.” Daniel said after her cries had become more subdued, getting a small laugh out of Kit.

“I just don’t get it. Like, it just came out of nowhere.” Kit sniffled, sitting up straight to indicate that she was feeling marginally better. 

“I mean, you don’t really want to be going out with a guy who breaks up with you over a photo like that. I know you’re inexperienced, but you can take it from me that your standards can be higher.” Daniel grinned, and Kit pushed him gently. 

“Don’t even, that got me into this mess in the first place.” Kit sighed. 

“What d’you mean?” Daniel asked. 

“It was like, I don’t know, the day after Spa. Max said something about me being desperate or not having any sex or something and I don’t know, it was before I stopped letting him get to me.” Kit explained.

“You’ve stopped letting him get to you?” Daniel said in faux surprise. 

“Shut up.” Kit couldn’t stop herself from smiling. 

“Well, I think the conclusion we can draw from this is that all men are idiots. Max included.” Daniel said. 

“Max especially.” Kit continued, receiving a typical Danny Ric laugh in return. 

“Speak of the devil.” Daniel muttered as he looked at his buzzing phone. 

“Go, I’ll be fine.” Kit said in response to the conflicted look on Daniel's face. 

“Are you sure? He’s not important, I can stay.” Daniel said, not relenting on trying to make her smile. 

“No, go, seriously. I’ll order room service and watch Heathers or something like that.” Kit forced herself to smile, knowing that she still looked a sorry sight with her hair messed up and cheeks puffy and red. 

“Okay, but you call me if you need anything. I mean it.” Daniel said, not stopping his threats until Kit had closed the door on him with a wide smile. While she knew she would be fine eventually, the quietness of her room engulfed her as Daniel left. As much as she hated it, her heart would feel this raw for much, much longer than what Matteo deserved. At least for tonight she could try and forget about it with a shitty, overpriced margherita pizza and some vintage Winona Ryder. 

Chapter Text

Kit’s week in Brazil, ever since that phone call, had passed in a blur. The remainder of her days off were spent in a haze, exiting her hotel room only when forced by Daniel to explore the city. Often he had Max in tow, which probably would’ve caused her to leave and find something else to do had she not become a strange mixture of sad and empty since getting dumped. If it wasn’t so abrupt or the reasoning so incomprehensible or Matteo’s personality so suddenly jealous and misogynistic, she would probably be dealing with it better, but there was an endless stream of questions that flowed through her mind at all times that didn’t let her forget her pain. 

Once her driver commitments began on Wednesday, Kit threw herself into everything she possibly could, getting to the track early and leaving late. It was the only thing capable of taking her mind off things. She never realised the fact that all her music, all the TV shows she liked, and all her favourite books were focused around love. Not that she ever wanted to use that word in association with Matteo, but from how her chest ached whenever she was reminded of him she knew her feelings for him were deeper than she ever admitted to herself. 

On the plus side, Kit’s new endeavour to think of nothing but the car and the track was having unforeseen benefits to her racing. She knew it was unsustainable, being so tired when she returned to the hotel that she barely had enough energy to put on her pyjamas. And yet, RedBull’s already well-suited car for Interlagos was being driven to its maximum capability by both drivers, Kit besting Max in two of the three practice sessions. It wasn’t that she was usually distracted during a race, but typically she tried to think of things outside the car for motivation for herself. She usually tried to think of her parents, overjoyed over the phone, or Hugh giving her a proud hug when she got out of the car, or, well, she couldn’t even think about him in passing without feeling her stomach turn, but him too. Now, all she needed was her own internal determination and drive (literally) to push her to the edge. It made her feel powerful, yet strangely isolated in her cockpit. 

Daniel had clearly informed Max of what had happened, because while he was still sending her irritated glares and making small comments in interviews that showed he still thought he would outperform her in qualifying, he didn’t seem to be at his usual level of petty that they both functioned at. He clearly couldn't adapt their usual unpleasant exchanges to be something less grating, so he stuck to plain silence when it came to Kit. Luckily there was no team media that week, because Kit didn’t think she’d ever heard Max’s voice less. It was helping her mood though. 

Quali came and went. P2, 6 thousandths of a second off Max which she would’ve easily cleared had it not been for a yellow flag in the middle of her last flying lap. She was clearly fuming as she stepped out of the car and removed her helmet, even as she was drowned in ‘well done’s or ‘good job’s. “Nice drive.” Max said as he approached her from his side of the garage, a smug smile on his face. Daniel may have been able to keep him amicable during practice, but when things started to get serious no one could tame Max. 

“Piss off.” Kit muttered as she unzipped the top of her race suit and rubbed her face to get rid of the helmet-y feeling. 

“Hey, I’m just being sportsmanlike.” Max said, holding his hands up to feign innocence. 

“Excellent work today guys, let’s keep it going for tomorrow.” Christian said as he entered the garage from the pitwall. 

“Thanks mate.” Max replied, and Kit echoed him quietly. 

“Maybe we should keep that boyfriend of yours at a distance every week, hey Kit?” Christian joked, and she tried not to let the stabbing pain she felt in her chest show on her face. 

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem anymore.” Max said, still wearing a self-satisfied smile. Christian looked between the pair with a mixture of curiosity and amusement in his eyes. Kit wasn’t even trying to hide her hatred for Max anymore as she stared at him, all but ignoring Christian’s presence, and Max stared straight back with unflinching happiness at both his result and the way he could push her buttons. Christian just laughed and shook his head, giving them both a congratulatory pat on the shoulder before walking off. 

“God Max, could you be anymore, argh, you?” Kit said frustratedly, pushing past him roughly to go to her driver’s room before the media. 

“What? I’m just being honest.” Max replied eagerly. This was the best mood she’d ever seen in him while talking to her, overjoyed by her unhappiness. 

“It’s not his business.” She said to him angrily. He’d caught up to her and they were now walking side by side back to the motorhome. 

“Well clearly it is if getting dumped is what’s making you actually drive well.” The way his voice stressed actually made Kit’s blood boil. 

“I don’t like fighting with you Max. I don’t like that all we do is argue. But when you act like this, I don’t see how we have any other option.” Kit spat before storming off, leaving him in the dust. She didn’t turn around but she knew he would be wearing that same self-satisfied smirk, because he got under her skin. He won, and for Max Verstappen, nothing was better than winning. 

Kit wouldn’t have described the race as uneventful, but for someone looking just at the starting grid vs the race result, it hadn’t appeared that much had changed. It was a RedBull 1-2, what every person in any team dreams of. Well, anyone except the ‘2’ in that equation. Max had clearly been favoured by the team strategy in wanting to keep him ahead of Kit, and he gained such a big lead on her that an overtake was impossible. 

“That’s P2 Kit, and Max in P1. Bloody good racing today.” Hugh said over the radio. Kit could hear the smile in his voice, but she didn’t even feel a spark of excitement. Who the fuck had she become, to barely blink at a P2?

“Yeah, awesome job today guys. Great result.” Kit forced out as she drove herself into parc fermé. The P2 sign seemed to be mocking her as she secured the car. Max was standing on the top of his car punching the air, revelling in the cheers of the Brazilian crowd. Kit knew she was being a bad sport. She knew that it was an amazing result for the team, she knew she should be happy. But she just felt empty. She didn’t take her helmet off immediately despite the heat because she knew she would have the foulest expression on her face.

It frustrated her to be like this. She hated when she watched sport on TV and the athletes behaved like this. Angry, selfish, unappreciative of a good result. But here she was, barely running over to her elated team and forcing herself to sound happy under her helmet as she was passed around like a baton. Both her third place podiums had felt better than this. It was the highest she’d ever performed in F1 and she was sulking over two men, neither of which deserved a second of her time. The thought nearly motivated her to force a smile, but nothing. She was just a borken-hearted shell with a good car and good instinct. 

Max eventually made his way off his car and to the team, jumping into them with full force. Kit didn’t miss how the cameras panned between them, trying to display her angry stare towards Max, revealed by her raised visor. It so easily could’ve been her win. Just a bit faster in quali, a slightly better start, better strategy. There were so many ways that it could’ve been her, and yet here she was. Still number 2. 

“Hey mate, good drive today.” Max said as she made his way over to where Kit was standing to take off his gloves and helmet. He accompanied his arrogant tone of voice with a pat on the shoulder, and Kit shrugged him off as if he’d just given her an electric shock. That wouldn’t go down well, every camera in a 50 metre radius focused on their interaction. She felt bad for Carlos who had fought his way to third in what was definitely not the third fastest car, with his own team being the only ones focused on him and not the RedBull teammates. 

“Fuck off.” Kit muttered to Max as she removed her helmet and balaclava. Unfortunately, she waited until both were off her face to say it, her lips being easy to read by anyone with eyes and some context clues. 

“Such a good sport.” Max replied as he began to take sips of water. While Carlos’ interview was what was supposed to be capturing the attention of the crowd, Kit could see that it was being spliced with footage of her and Max on the big screens, thankfully without audio. 

“I guess we have that in common.” She spat back. His smile was infuriating. She would give anything to get back his neutrally pissed off expression. At least when he was also in a shitty mood they were on a level playing field. He wasn’t able to reply as Kit was beckoned over to do her interview. She heard a loud cheer from the crowd, but not nearly as the one Carlos received. 

“Kit, excellent drive today, your highest result in F1 and the team’s first 1-2 finish since Malaysia 2016. How are you feeling?” Kit forced a smile onto her face.

“It’s great, the team performed so well today in managing to hold onto our 1-2 from qualifying and everyone’s worked so hard all weekend to get this result and it’s very well deserved for everyone in the team.” Kit smiled, less bright than it typically would be. 

“You’re not exactly jumping for joy, do you think that it should’ve been you in P1?” The interviewer asked frankly. 

“I mean,” Kit began, a genuine smile creeping up on her face the way it might a child who was trying to lie to her parents, “I think it’s frustrating that I was so close to pole yesterday and didn’t get it due to something out of my control, but at the end of the day it’s how you perform on the track that counts and everyone gets unlucky, so you know, we just have to keep pushing into the last race in Abu Dhabi.” 

“Well, best of luck to you and I’m sure you’ll celebrate tonight regardless.” Kit nodded good-naturedly and walked back to grab her things before leaving to the podium holding room. Her and Max passed each other as he walked to be interviewed, not acknowledging each other with even a glance. The crowd roared and Kit forced herself not to turn around as to shield herself from seeing him grin and wave at the crowd. Self-preservation was important in these trying times. 

“Carlos, good job today mate.” Kit said as she entered the small room and saw him sitting on a stool, watching the live coverage on the TV. It was playing an impressive overtake he’d made towards the end of the race to clinch the podium position and Kit was surprised at her own genuineness. 

“Ayy, thank you. You as well though, no?” He replied in his thick Spanish accent, performing the usual bro-dap up with her in congratulations. 

“Ehh, could’ve been better.” Kit said as she tried to keep a light smile on her face. It wasn’t Carlos’ fault that her life just seemed to be a series of falling dominoes.

“But it’s your highest ever finish?” Carlos continued in surprise. 

“Yeah but, I mean, I had to lose to him .” Kit said unsubtly. The camera crew wasn’t in there yet as Max was still walking up after finishing his interview so she wasn’t worried about exposing herself like that. Not that she was worried about losing her seat anymore. She’d gotten the podium finish she needed and Christian seemed to have resigned himself to having arguing teammates. As long as they kept performing the way they had recently, he didn’t want to mess with the balance. And despite this, Kit felt nothing. In her mind, the seat was just some begrudging pity prize she got given instead of first place.

“Ah, I see.” Carlos replied knowingly. 

“You’re not the same with Lando?” Kit asked. She knew they were good friends, but even good friends were competitive on the grid. 

“If it was a 1-2 and he was in first, I’d be a bit annoyed. But no, it’s not the same.” He grinned.

“God, I sound like a bitch.” Kit groaned. 

“Hey, it’s different. Max is no Lando, and McLaren isn’t fighting for wins like RedBull is. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Carlos said comfortingly, but Kit couldn’t express her gratitude as the small camera crew entered alongside Max. She walked over to the other side of the room and tried not to look like a petulant child as Carlos and Max said their positive words to the other. The room fell into an awkward lull after that, Carlos stuck in the middle of the silent tension between the two RedBull drivers. 

Despite the room seeming to get smaller and smaller every long second, eventually they were led up to the podium. As her name was called out, Kit waved at the RedBull employees below her and actually grinned genuinely at Hugh below whistling his heart out. Okay, so maybe she was being a bit dramatic. She was happy. She could convince herself of it in that moment. 

Just as the last time she’d shared a podium with Max, he was standing on a step higher than her, the fact that it was the win this time just rubbing salt in the wound. The champagne sprayed all around her, and as she closed her eyes and felt the cool liquid on her face she was brought back to the hotel pool. No, she told herself. You’re not thinking about that. You’re not giving that asshole another inch of real estate in your mind. She opened her eyes again and took a gulp of champagne slightly too enthusiastically. Maybe it was actually a good thing that this happened a week after she got dumped. She had the perfect excuse to go out and get shitfaced. 

“Hey little miss P2.” Charles said happily in passing Kit as she made her way towards her first interview in the paddock with Sky Sports. She could see the interviewers looking towards her expectantly as they vamped for time, but that was what they were being paid to do. They would just film her and Charles talking anyway. 

“Hey Mr…I don’t fucking know.” Kit said, laughing as she couldn’t think of a clever response to the grinning man opposite. 

“She’s already in the club.” Charles said as he tapped at her temples. 

“You know it.” Kit said and winked. 

“Don’t go too crazy tonight.” Charles warned. While she knew he was referencing the celebratory aspect of the evening, something about his tone also seemed to be asking her to take care of herself. To not do anything she’d regret. 

“I won’t, Charlie.” Kit said, now just feeling guilty for keeping the journalists waiting. “Will you be there?” 

“For P7?” He said incredulously. “I don’t think so.” 

“Okay, well, see you soon then.” Kit said smiling. She was struggling to keep up with her own emotions. First she felt numb, then determined, then angry, then annoyed, and now happy. And it had only been about an hour. Hopefully by the end of the night she would be able to relive every emotion she’d felt over the past six months and just be able to start on a clean slate. But of course, that was never how these things worked. 

“Who wants another drink?” Someone asked from the edge of RedBull’s private corner in the already exclusive club. Kit waved her hand in the air alongside a few others, having ordered so many gin and tonics that she was sure the person would get her the right thing. 

“Letting loose tonight, are we?” Hugh said from beside her. He wasn’t judgemental of her increasingly alcoholic tendencies, just amused.

“I, I fucking deserve it Hugh.” Kit said. She wasn’t fully slurring her words, at least she didn’t think she was, but she was definitely having to focus on enunciating each of her syllables. 

“You’re damn right you do.” Hugh grinned, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“Did I-” Kit swallowed down a hiccup. “Did I tell you I got dumped?” She said calmly. The alcohol was like a warm bandage on her heart, soothing the pain she hadn’t been released from all week. 

“No?” Hugh said in surprise. “By Matteo?” He asked. 

"No, my other boyfriend.” Kit said sarcastically. “Guess why.” She demanded.

“Um, he felt insecure that he was making less money than you.” Hugh grinned and Kit rolled her eyes. 

“I wish man, I fucking wish it actually had an explanation like that. No, you, hang on.” She picked her phone off the table and unlocked it, muscle memory guiding her to instagram. “This, he broke up with me over this photo.” Kit said angrily as she showed the instagram post of her and Max to Hugh. Daniel had offered to delete it, but Kit didn’t want to lose to Matteo any more than she already had. 

“Ahh, I see.” Hugh said as if all the dots had connected just by that picture. Kit furrowed her eyebrows. 

“See what? You understand why he would break up with me over this ?” Kit said, not able to control her tone, but Hugh was used to it. 

“I don’t agree with it, but I get it.” Hugh said, and Kit just gave him a blank, drunk stare in request for more information. “He kept a pretty tight grip on you when he would come to the races.” Hugh explained. 

“Okay but, why would he think something was happening with Max, of all people?” Kit asked, no, more like begged. She had been asking herself these questions all week. 

“Max would be the most obvious, for me.” Hugh said as he took a sip of his drink. Kit hadn’t even realised that there was a fresh gin and tonic in front of her, this being the first discussion she’d had with anyone about what had occurred except for Daniel, and she hadn’t been able to stop crying during any of those interactions. 

“What? Why? We fucking hate each other, and not in a cute way. He called me a slut , Hugh.” Kit said, whispering loudly. 

“Okay, well first of all that’s not okay, you should tell someone about that.” Hugh said seriously, turning his engineer-work mode on. 

“It’s fine, he’ll pay for it one day. Now, what do you mean?” Kit said intensely. 

“You know how little boys pull on the pigtails of the girls they like?” Hugh proposed.

“No, nu-uh. Not at all like that one bit.” Kit replied. She was shaking her head from side to side, performing the motion slower than you would usually shake your head because in her inebriated state she felt like her head was a swiveling office chair. 

“If you say so.” Hugh said sceptically.  

“I know so.” Kit replied. 

“I think you need to let off some steam. Go dance or something. I can feel your leg bouncing under the table, I know you’re getting restless.” Hugh shooed, pushing her gently to stand up. She drank her gin and tonic swiftly, not struggling to get the liquid down her throat, and tokenistically pulled her skirt down before she headed onto the dancefloor. It was in that moment, touching her skirt, that she remembered why it had made her stomach twist uncomfortably back at the hotel. It was the exact same outfit that she’d worn to Max’s 22nd birthday party. 

The dance floor seemed to breathe in and out as people moved in time to the music, the warmth of bodies around her allowing Kit to forget who she was. She wasn’t a number 2 driver with a broken heart and a douchebag teammate, she was a good looking 21 year old dancing with numerous strangers to Despacito. She felt a pair of large, unfamiliar hands on her hips as the song got into full swing, the DJ stretching out a 3 minute track to more than double that. 

As if her hips had a memory of their own, she remembered the last time she was in a club dancing alone. Charles had just told her off for flirting with the random Monégasque prince and she was feeling guilty for semi-betraying Matteo, even though they weren’t even official. The thought didn’t make her sad anymore, it just made her angry for wasting so much time on such a lazy, two-sided dick. 

The anger built up in her stomach the way it did when she was annoyed at Max, and it made her turn around in the arms of the stranger, relieved to find a decent looking, muscular man as their owner. She smiled up at him, trying to forget the way she’d danced in this exact position with Matteo in these exact clothes. He leant down to be closer to her, and his hot breath on her neck sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t tell if she was enjoying herself or not, her drunk brain so disconnected from her body. 

“Olá bonita.” The man said in her ear, and Kit was simultaneously grateful and annoyed that she knew absolutely zero portuguese. 

“Olá.” She replied with a shy smile on her face. She didn’t need to say anymore, the man being very content just to dance with her under his hands. The songs passed in his grip. Somehow she kept ending up with more and more drinks, not so many that she was getting blackout, but enough to keep her in a solid state of intoxication. It wasn't until she saw someone nearby hold their phone up with the lock screen showing that she saw an hour had passed without her realising. The dim coloured lights in the large club had made all time and space blur together, so she shouldn’t have been that surprised at her drunk brain deciding to take a step back and just let the minutes tick by. 

“Você quer voltar para o meu apartamento?” The man said into her ear. His Portuguese accent would’ve been incredibly sexy had it not painfully reminded her of Matteo, but there was one word she could recognise regardless: apartment. 

“Una momento.” Kit said tipsily, having no idea if what she’d just said was Portuguese or not, but knowing she needed to tell Hugh that she was leaving before going home with this man. Was she really about to go home with this man? Surely not. She’d made it to the fringes of the dancefloor before realising that he had followed her with a hand on her waist, and that if she didn’t want to go home with him she would have to decide now. “Uh, uh…” She said, not even knowing where to begin.

She didn’t have to think for long though, because all of a sudden the man had spun her around in his arms and had both hands firmly on her waist, looking as if he was ready to pash then and there. While part of her wanted it to happen just to prove to herself that she didn’t need Matteo, another part of her was begging for him not to. 

“Kit.” She heard over her shoulder just in the nick of time. She was relieved and annoyed to have been interrupted, the annoyed side winning as she spun around and saw Max. “Come on, let’s go.” He said, grabbing her forearm. She yanked it away from him before he could do anything. 

“Don’t touch me.” She replied, but pushed away from the Brazilian man and followed her teammate out of the club anyway, leaving him without so much as a goodbye. He would get over it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You really think that guy’s gonna make you feel better about getting dumped?” Max began to rip into her as they exited the nightclub and he hailed them a taxi. Her rational brain didn’t find it strange that he was leaving with her, not questioning how they ended up in the back of the taxi together on the way back to the hotel without the rest of the team and with Max still, despite it all, visibly pissed off at her. 

“Are you drunk?” Kit said calmly. Maybe she would have to drink like this more often. The initial spike in anger at him had subsided, and she couldn’t help but notice Max’s red ears and cheeks, and the fact that he, once again, wasn’t wearing a cap. His hair was like a seventh wonder. It was strange, not feeling angry at Max while he was angry at her. In a way, it was sort of nice. 

“That’s not the point.” He huffed. So he was, Kit told herself in satisfaction. She noticed him tapping on the door handle of the taxi and that his eyes seemed to not be able to settle in just one spot. They couldn’t have been more oppositional when they were drunk.

“What's the point then? I know you think I’m a slut, but…” Kit said without a tone of anger in her voice, more one of expectation. He didn’t reply, and she just refocused her gaze out the window. 

“I don’t think you’re slut.” He said in his usual monotone voice. Despite the delivery, Kit could hardly believe her ears. 

“Why do you say things you don’t mean then?” Kit asked. 

“I meant it then.” He turned to look at her as he said it, Kit momentarily distracted by the sudden eye contact. 

“That really makes it so much better.” She replied. She refused to break the eye contact and so did he, but it didn’t feel intense like when they would stare each other down across the garage or paddock. It wasn’t kind or warm or understanding either. It was just a strangely acute awareness of the other person.

“I also meant it when I called Daniel a blind idiot in free practice on Friday. I don’t mean that now.” He said flatly. Was this a Max Verstappen apology? Kit actually couldn’t tell where he was going with this. 

“I still don’t see why you care if I made out with that guy or not.” Kit said. 

“I don’t know.” Max answered, and given Max wasn’t exactly known for sugarcoating things, Kit knew he was being honest. 

“I’m annoyed that you won.” Kit blurted out. The fact that her and Max weren’t fighting made her drunk, overly friendly brain want to talk to him, even if she would regret it soon like she usually did. 

“Good.” Max smiled. 

“No, fuck off. I don’t like being number 2.” She replied, but it didn’t quite have the same passion that their usual arguing did. It was just…honesty. 

“You’re only number 2 now because Pierre was. You’re just as good as me.” Kit was left speechless at such an uncharacteristically Max thing to say, and chose to look out the window in silence instead. She didn’t feel comfortable around him the way she did with Charles or Daniel, yet she wasn’t having to fight down the urge to choke him to death. She felt uneasy for the rest of the taxi ride, nearly spurting out provoking phrases just to take their dynamic back to what she was familiar with, not this weird, ambient silence. 

“Obridgado.” Max said as the driver came to a stop outside their hotel and he handed him a few notes of cash. His terrible Portuguese accent punched a hole through the silence and Kit tried to stop thinking about the night Matteo had hailed that Italian taxi for her. Kit felt like her brain had caught up to her body, there no longer being the delay between what was happening around her and her comprehending it, so she knew she was mildly more sober. They walked in silence through the lobby, Kit trying to think of how to breach the subject again without them beginning to fight. 

“You really think I’m as good as you?” Kit asked. She hated how validation-seeking she sounded, but secretly she wanted to hear him say it again. 

“Yeah, don’t get a fucking ego though.” Max said, his reply not having as much bite as it typically did despite the profanity. Kit fought down a smile on her face, having to remind herself of who she was talking to. 

“Will you repeat that in the morning?” She asked cheekily. 

“I’ve done a lot of things tonight that I won’t do again in the morning.” Max said with the hint of a smile at his lips, and Kit could feel the cogs whirring in her brain as she tried to figure out what he could have meant. 

“Like win?” Kit snickered at the unimpressed look on his face. She didn’t know if they were walking to her room or his, but (and in the morning she would truly believe she had experienced a fever dream for thinking this) she was actually enjoying talking to Max. 

“We don’t have a race tomorrow, so sure.” He replied.

“Oh, you’re so smart.” Kit fired back. 

“Thank you.” Max said. He was actually smiling now, and Kit knew she must definitely be having a fever dream. His cheeks were still pink, so it must just be the alcohol making him so manageable. They came to a stop in front of what must have been Max’s room, Kit realising they’d already walked past hers. They resumed their eye contact, Kit having to tilt her head up only slightly to maintain it. They were a lot closer than in the taxi, like, a lot closer. Kit could feel the breath leaving his nose on the space between her eyes, but she didn’t blink. She couldn’t lose to him by blinking first. 

“You’re kind of nice when you’re drunk.” Kit semi-whispered. 

“You’re still annoying.” Max replied softly. 

“I try my hardest.” Max leant his side on the door, bringing their faces even closer together. Kit didn’t know what was happening. 5 hours ago she was leaving the track with her P2 trophy, cursing this man’s name. Now, he was about 5 centimetres away from her and not because she had him in a chokehold. 

“Why can’t we get along like this normally?” Max asked, and although his face and voice remained its usual stony composure, framing his question as more of an objective observation rather than a desire for an answer, Kit thought she could sense the slightest bit of vulnerability in his words. 

“Because you’re not nice when you’re not drunk.” Kit actually giggled.

“Neither are you.” Max said defensively. 

“I’m not cos you’re not. You started it.” Kit continued. 

“I was born this way. I would like you more if you were shit in the car.” Max said. The fact he’d brought up racing again made Kit realise that he really did have a one track mind. Thinking back to Japan with the presence of Jos Verstappen, it didn’t surprise her. 

“Ditto.” Kit smiled. She would also like him more if he was less antagonistic and just generally a more pleasant person to be around, but she was trying not to disturb the peace that made her feel simultaneously settled and on edge. 

In a movement that made Kit’s nerves shoot into overdrive on high alert, Max reached up to her exposed shoulder and pushed the pieces of hair resting there over to lie on her back. She was hallucinating. What the fuck was happening? And why wasn’t she moving? She was dead sober now, she was too aware of what was happening not to be. He hadn’t moved the rest of his body any closer and his arm was now back crossed against his chest, but Kit felt like there was some kind of phantom limb in the shape of his hand that had attached onto her body. Their eyes continued to bore into each other. A pin could’ve dropped between them. 

“KIT! MAX VERSTAAAPEENNNN!” Lando’s booming voice echoed down the corridor, complemented by Carlos’ hollering. Both RedBull drivers jolted up and away from their close, relaxed positions. Kit thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. 

“Had a good night, have we Lando?” Kit joked, trying to pretend she hadn’t just been, well, she didn’t know, but she had at the very least been awfully close to her teammate who she was supposed to despise. 

“Had? The night’s only getting started! We had to come back because Carlos wanted to bring his trophy to the next club.” Lando cackled, clearly legless as he leant on the older driver for support, the pair stumbling down the hallway. 

“Everyone has to know that I’m a smooooth operatoo-ooor.” Carlos began to sing, Lando joining in soon after. 

“Don’t lose it.” Max said, laughing after Carlos laughed at his bad joke. 

“Why are you two back so early anyway?” Carlos continued as he and Lando slowly made their way further and further down the hall, not moving fast enough to have to change the volume they were all speaking at.

“Tired.” Kit said quickly. “Plus I didn’t win, so…” She grinned, laughing at Lando’s low whistle and Max rolling his eyes. 

“One of you is gonna be the champion next year, I’ll bet my contract on it.” Lando slurred. 

“Okay buddy.” Max said condescendingly as the pair disappeared into Carlos’ hotel room. “I’m gonna, uh…” He said as he pointed backwards to his own room, and it was the first time Kit had ever seen him unsure of himself.

“Sure, night.” Kit said shortly. She walked back down the corridor to her own room, still trying to comprehend the day's (and night's) events. She had finished P2 for the first time ever. She’d gotten the podium she needed for her seat. That fact alone sent her to sleep with a smile on her face, Matteo nearly out of her thoughts completely. 

Chapter Text

As tended to be the case with people who worked in Formula 1, often birthdays coincided with race weekends, and hence the celebrations had to be delayed. Even Christian Horner, a man who could essentially do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, wasn’t exempt from this. And so, after a few days in Milton Keynes of semi-illegal sim work on next year’s car, Kit found herself in a very expensive dress in the lobby of a London hotel, waiting for the rest of the exclusive group of RedBull employees to arrive to celebrate their boss’s 46th birthday. 

While initially Kit found it a bit strange that Christian would want to spend his birthday celebrations with people from work and not his real friends, she remembered that a) this was Christian Horner they were talking about, all he did was work and b) that technically her closest friends were work friends too, so she couldn’t start calling the kettle black. She was just excited to see Geri, because although she often saw the Spice Girl at races, it never subdued her five year old self’s excitement when they got to spend time together. And much as a mother of sons dotes on her only daughter, Geri adored Kit as the only female driver she’d ever been able to spend time with. 

Kit was just beginning to wonder why she was so bizarrely early when the spinning glass doors of the room started to move and in walked Max, head down and looking at his phone while he walked. Ever since their 1-2 in Brazil and the strangely wholesome semi-drunken conversation they’d had, their relationship had become an enigma that Kit was yet to crack, and she found herself longing for the burning hatred she used to feel towards him. She even tried to fire it up within herself, but now all her old vignettes of Max being insufferable took on a new light. He thought she was just as good as him, and that’s why he didn’t like her. Kit had to force herself not to smile. 

“Max.” Kit said as the man looked as if he was about to walk straight past her. 

“Oh, hey.” He said emotionlessly, not looking up from his phone. Kit didn’t want to peek over and see what he was doing, because then he would know that she wanted to know, but he looked enraptured by whatever it was, and they fell into silence. This was the enigma. He didn’t seem to hate her, but he also made no effort to like her either. They were just sort of existing now, the tension having dissolved and being replaced with nothing. 

“Watcha gonna get?” Kit asked. She resisted the urge to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet, not wanting to seem awkward even though she definitely was. 

“Hmm?” Max hummed, finally locking his phone and putting it in his back pocket. Kit didn’t miss the way he paused upon seeing the tightly fitted, black strappy midi dress she was wearing, his eyes lingering on her hips before shooting straight up to her eyes. At least he was semi-respectful.  

“For food, what are you gonna get?” Kit repeated. 

“Oh, fuck if I know.” Max said nonchalantly. 

“You’re not a google-the-menu kinda person?” Kit asked. 

“I didn’t know you could even do that for these places.” Max shrugged, looking around at the well adorned lobby. The conversation fell flat, not for the first time that week, and Kit resigned herself to the fact that maybe her and Max just didn’t have the right connection to actually be friends, even if they didn’t hate each other. 

Max was kicking himself. ‘I didn’t know you could even do that’? What the fuck was wrong with him? He had been texting his dad as he walked in, because Jos had some serious issues and if Max didn’t reply to him quickly enough, there would be hell to pay. And so, not exactly being in a happy headspace but not wanting to go back to acting like a dick, he was trying to be nice to Kit. And for him, nice was incredibly difficult. Nice didn’t come naturally to him, not when it was someone he felt so uncomfortable around. 

But that was just the thing. He didn’t feel uncomfortable around Kit. Realistically, he never had. And it was that that made him uncomfortable. It was the same as when he first became Daniel’s teammate, the fact that his main competition was so nice to him made him close himself off, only becoming friends after some serious social stamina on Daniel’s part. Kit wasn’t Daniel though, no one was. And it seemed that he’d been too much of a dickhead too fast, and she wasn’t willing to try and change the fact that they hated each other. 

And honestly, Max would have coped with that. He hated a lot of people and a lot of people hated him. He was driving well, and so he didn’t really care if he got along with his teammate or not. But then he just had to get drunk and fuck everything up. He didn’t know what came over him in the club that night. He was leaving because he was trying to get away from a girl that was hitting on him, but by the time he lost her tail he was near the exit and pissed off anyway. And then he saw Kit being manhandled by that douchebag and it made him see red. 

He didn’t know why he hated seeing her with guys, especially considering their profession. At first he thought it was like in Singapore, where he was just annoyed at his friends liking her as well  as him. But then she started bringing her boyfriend around, and Max detested him fairly intensely as well. It was like his rational brain and his monkey brain had been completely separated in his head. He didn’t have a reason for hating Matteo, he just did. And unsurprisingly, the man that Kit was dancing with looked a lot like her ex-boyfriend. 

So now here they stood. Max, fighting back the urge to say something harsh or cruel just to get their relationship back to what he was okay with, and Kit, totally unaware that she looked like a fucking Victoria’s Secret supermodel. It was a purely objective observation, but one that Max knew he couldn’t have, so he pretended to observe the hotel lobby as he internally kicked himself at leading their conversation into the dirt. Why couldn’t he just be relaxed and chatty with Kit without feeling his chest close up at the prospect of them being friends. 

“Look at these early buggers.” Christian half-yelled across the lobby. Max’s stomach used to drop whenever his boss addressed him, but ever since becoming the man’s clear favourite within the team, he was never disappointed to see him. 

“We’re just too excited for the party.” Kit grinned from beside him. Something within Max twisted up into a knot, as it did whenever her and Christian spoke to each other. He still hadn't figured that one out either.

“Now, you two have to keep it cool tonight, okay? None of this dancing-with-strangers behaviour.” Christian said, wagging his finger at the pair. Max smiled as he realised that the man was already a bit tipsy. Personally, he wasn’t going to be drinking. He couldn’t risk another hotel corridor exchange with Kit like in Brazil. Sometimes before he fell asleep, his brain tortured him by replaying that moment over and over again. He had touched her fucking hair, what the fuck was wrong with him?

“Yes sir.” Max joked, happy to follow the small entourage into the restaurant. The group was led to a private room, the chairs filling up quickly around the long table. An unrecognisable mixture of feelings swum through his veins as he realised, due to the way the group had walked in, he would have to sit next to Kit. 

“I guess we don’t get to pick anyway, you’re saved.” She smiled as he sat down, pointing at the menu. It was a piece of heavy paper outlining each course, and she was right, they didn’t get to pick. 

“Mm, lucky me.” Max grumbled, effectively bringing another attempted conversation to an end. A waiter was already coming around the table with a bottle of expensive red wine, the glasses in front of each person being filled to a freakishly uniform height. As the waiter moved towards Max from his right, he reached out to put a hand over the top of his glass. As he did so, he felt Kit’s hand brush lightly against his thigh, so faint that they might not have even touched, her performing the same action as him. A shiver, neither good nor bad, ran down his spine at the contact. 

“You’re not drinking?” Kit heard Max say from beside her. After his lack of enthusiasm to try and make a conversation out of her discussion of the menu, she wasn’t expecting to hear another peep out of him for the rest of the night. 

“Uh, no. I think I should take it easy after last weekend.” Kit semi-laughed. She resisted the urge to bounce her leg up and down. 

“Yeah, me too.” Max huffed out something semi-resembling a laugh as well, neither driver addressing the elephant in the room that was a too-close conversation held in a Brazilian hotel hallway. And because they couldn’t address that, it now appeared that they couldn’t talk about anything. 

“Kit, how are you, love? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Geri said from across the table as she sipped her wine.

“I’m not bad. Got a few more podiums under my belt. How about you?” Kit grinned. She was already missing the feeling of a beverage in her hand. 

“Wonderful, now that you’re doing so well. No offence Max, but she’s my favourite.” Geri said to the pair of them, Kit noticing Max try to puff out a laugh. It wasn’t anything special, but for Max that was probably the most they would get. 

“Oh, I forgot to ask, how are Montey and Olivia going?” Kit asked enthusiastically, having met Christian and Geri’s children back in Silverstone, still in a Torro Rosso uniform. 

“They're great!” Geri exclaimed, her face lighting up at the mention of her kids. “Montey’s started to babble away non-stop about every second thing he sees. Especially the races. God, when you two had that brilliant race last week I thought he was going to suffocate himself from how much he had to say. It actually quite reminds me of Max.” Geri said excitedly. Kit made a face of confusion at the comparison, turning from the woman in front of her to Max beside her, trying to confirm that they were thinking of the same person. 

“This Max?” Kit asked in astonishment. The man in question, who was resting his face in his hand, just smiled into his palm but didn’t contribute to the conversation. 

“Maybe he’s gotten old and serious now, but I remember back when he was just starting out, he’d come out of the car chattering like an excited kid. He just needed to discuss every single tiny detail of his drive with anyone who would listen.” Geri continued. Kit couldn’t stop herself from grinning as she imagined Max, stone cold, serious, half the time angry out of his mind, babbling on about the car and his driving. 

“I’ve been missing out.” Kit laughed. Max turned his head slightly, their eyes making that same neutral but intense contact for just a fraction compared to the night before. He looked away again as bread and butter was placed down on the table in front of them. 

“I never had anything interesting to say anyway, that’s why I’ve stopped.” Max said. He leant over Kit slightly as he reached for a piece of warm sourdough, and she mentally told herself she was being ridiculous when she felt the urge to hold her breath. 

“Oh that’s not true. But anyway, surely you’d have a lot more to say now?” Geri asked. Something about her looked so elegant as she buttered her slice of bread, hands well-adorned yet not garish with rings and bracelets, like a rich aunt who gave you nothing but love and affection while still managing to keep her distance. 

“Meh, not really.” Max said, the irony in his short reply not being lost on the two women who began to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Max asked defensively. 

“Nothing Max.” Kit grinned as she took a bite out of her bread. If this was just the beginning of the meal, she knew she was in for a treat. It achieved the perfect balance between crusty and soft, with the salty butter melting into every orifice of the dough. Kit did get a bit too enthusiastic with it though, and had her mouth so full that she couldn't speak to ask Max to pass down the water. She tapped his shoulder lighter than she’d touch a sleeping rhino, scared that if they even semi-reenacted the past night’s events, they would end up ruining the mildly awkward but manageable equilibrium that had formed. 

Max nearly jumped out of his skin at the feeling of fingers on his shoulder, especially seeing as they were coming from his left, from the one person he now felt like there was a force field surrounding due to his own drunken lunacy. Kit’s cheeks were rounded slightly more than usual due to the bread, and it took Max a moment to look away from her face and down the table to the glass bottle of water that she was pointing to. An embarrassingly and obviously long moment. 

He was just digging himself a deeper hole here. Every time he looked at her, he just felt himself back leaning against that hotel door, making him pause in the real world, which then created even more shame for himself as he realised his eyes kept resting on her for longer and longer periods of time. Not to mention he could practically feel the air buzzing between their too-close legs underneath the table, scared that if he moved a muscle their knees would touch and then he may as well get up and leave. 

“Anksh.” Kit mumbled, still processing the food in her mouth as she took the bottle from Max’s hands. He felt her fingertips barely brush his, and he knew he was in for a long night if just that was making him consider calling her a slut again just so she’d keep her distance. But then the remnants of bread went sour in his mouth and he knew he would have to twelve-step himself off thinking things like that if he ever wanted them to be friends. Was that what he wanted now? It must be if he now found himself actively filtering his thoughts to not achieve maximum anger and discomfort for his teammate. The last person he’d consciously tried to befriend was Charles when they were 13 at the European karting championships. And even that ended up backfiring in the short term after they ended each other’s races. 

“Have you got any plans for winter?” Geri asked Kit politely.

“We can't be talking about holidays yet G, there's still a race left.” Christian said incredulously as he inserted himself into their conversation.

“Just because you spend your whole life thinking about work doesn't mean everyone has to.” Geri replied. Coming from anyone else it would’ve created awkward marital tension, uncomfortable for everyone around them, but coming from her it sounded lighthearted and friendly.

“ She has to.” Christian said with a smile on his face, pointing his fork at Kit but still looking at his wife. It was quite cute seeing him so enamoured with her. Kit was beginning to think he never felt any emotions other than delight at his rival’s misfortune, but this proved her otherwise.

“Don't be such a spoil sport.” Geri laughed as she turned her focus back on Kit. “Ignore him.” 

“I’m gonna be in Australia for a couple of months, so not exactly winter.” Kit smiled at the thought of such an extended period in her home country. The year before she'd only spent a few weeks back in Sydney before travelling around, trying to make the most of her first F1 winter break with a bit of cash in her bank account. But now she'd never been so excited to just stay in one place for more than two weeks.

“Oh that's lovely, spending time at home. What about you Max?” Despite sitting right next to Kit, the man still looked surprised at being included in the conversation.

“Uh, gonna be at home for a bit, until New Year's, I think. Then I’m gonna be in Australia as well.” He seemed almost sheepish at the admittance.

“You two can catch up! Or are you sick of each other by now?” Kit was initially surprised at Geri’s ignorance of her and Max’s tense relationship but then realised that it had probably been downplayed by Christian, writing it off as a clash of egos.

“I didn’t know you were going to Aus.” Kit said as she turned to Max.

“Yeah, with Daniel. He’s going earlier for Christmas and stuff, but then we're gonna drive along the coast.” Max said. Kit’s eyebrows lifted in surprise that he was settling for such a lowkey holiday.

“West coast I assume.” She replied.

“Uhh, I don't know. Which coast is Perth?” Max asked.

“West.” Kit laughed. “We probably won't see each other then, you’ll still be a 6 hour plane trip away from me.” 

“6 hours?” Geri and Max said in unison.

“What? It's a big country.” Kit smiled as she took a sip of her water. “What are you two doing?” Kit asked Geri, refocusing her attention away from her teammate. 

“We’re just gonna spend some time at home with the kids, gotta start thinking about their Christmas presents.” Geri said, smiling over at Christian next to her.

“You gonna get me a Christmas present?” Kit said to Max without thinking. She immediately regretted it at the unreadable expression that painted his features.

“I’ll let you win a race next year.” He didn’t smile, but Kit could just barely detect a tone of humour in his voice. 

“Pff, let me, please. I’d prefer coal.” Kit grinned, actually happy at the fact she hadn’t annoyed him. Part of her also felt a pang of regret at the hatred infused six months they’d shared. Sure, they weren’t quipping it like besties, but this was nice. This was bearable. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, for your entrée, a twice cooked goat cheese souffle with poached quince, parmesan, chervil, and a red vein sorrel garnish.” Max turned back to make eye contact with Kit, his face expressionless but his eyes conveying amusement at the pretentious menu they were being served. Kit felt herself smiling unconsciously at the fact that she was getting to see Max’s sense of humour shine through, but also at the waiter as well. 

“Oh Kit, I’ve heard you’ve got yourself a boyfriend?” Geri asked enthusiastically. Kit blushed, embarrassed by the fact that her relationship had been so short that the delay between Christian telling Geri about his life and current events hadn’t had time to catch up. 

“Uh, well, he’s been and gone actually.” Kit laughed.

“Oh dear, sorry to bring it up then. I suppose you probably don’t have any shortage of options, though.” Like when you tell yourself not to laugh and then everything becomes funny, Kit found her eyes flicking over to Max at Geri’s words. That bloody boy and his bloody hand touching her bloody hair. She would never think about him like that, ever.

“I think I might put my love life on the back burner for a while, honestly.” Kit smiled.

“What about you Max? Got a girl in the wings?” Geri continued. Max had just taken an optimistically large bite of the white, mushy mound of cheese as she asked the question, and the two women watched him in amusement as he struggled to chew the food quickly as swallow before answering. 

“No, I uh.” He cleared his throat loudly. “I’m not really focusing on that either.” And unbeknownst to Kit who was foraging around her plate for a piece of food she recognised, Max’s eyes flicked over to her as well. Geri just smiled at the two young, oblivious drivers in front of her and began to dig into the plate in front of her.

Chapter Text

“Guys, I swear I’m going faster.” Kit said into the radio with frustration evident in her voice. Abu Dhabi, arguably the most exciting Grand Prix of the year, and Kit was spending it arguing about team orders. Granted, Lewis had destroyed all competition and already had the championship in the bag. As well as that, the field had become so spread out both in the points and on the track that Max was guaranteed third in the championship, even if Kit overtook him. So that’s why, as she found herself losing precious seconds every lap, Kit was practically steaming at the ears.

“Hold position for now Kit.” Hugh’s clam voice said over the radio. She knew that it was a team decision to keep her behind, not just his, but she also felt that similar pit of anger that used to be sparked nearly everyday by Max rise up in her belly. That was her other motivator, Max. Because as much as she thought they were getting along better since Brazil, she hadn’t been racing against him yet. And fuck, when she thought she was a different person in the car, she was underestimating herself. 

“Why? He seriously cannot be going faster than me.” Kit snapped.

“From our data, it’s best for you to stay behind.” Hugh repeated.

“We’re on the same tyre strategy, for fuck’s sakes.” Kit sighed. Hugh didn’t reply, letting her calm down by herself. She could feel herself inching closer and closer to Max’s rear, forcing herself to brake earlier than she wanted on nearly every corner. If this was any other driver, she would’ve at least been putting pressure on them, maybe not being able to stick the overtake just yet. All it took was a slight wobble on Max’s left rear as he took the curb slightly too enthusiastically for Kit to forget about the team orders. Well, forget is a strong word. In actual fact, it was the team orders playing over and over again in her head as she pressed hard on the throttle to make sure that Max could see her approaching in his mirrors. 

Kit knew that overtaking in Abu Dhabi was difficult, she wasn’t an idiot. But her sudden surge of pressure at Max’s miniscule mistake seemed to have caught his attention, as he was definitely pushing harder than before. Kit could feel her car slipping back in the dirty air as they travelled through chicane after chicane, but she knew she would just have to stay within one second until she could get DRS coming out of turn 5. The pit straight flashed past, their straight lines speeds obviously identical but Kit swearing she was still making ground on her teammate. Into turn 1, then turn 2. She was practically biting at his ankles. 

“Kit, I repeat, hold your position.” Hugh said over the radio, unprompted by any word from Kit and therefore seeing her as ready to make the overtake. Kit only took that as further motivation, a small smile creeping onto her face at the warning. 

“Nah, fuck that.” She said after a few seconds, the DRS alert appearing as she rounded turn 5 just behind Max. Another few seconds passed before she entered the activation zone, the combination of the slipstream and the opened rear wing practically catapulting her past Max and into second place. She was lucky that she was able to get so far ahead of him before needing to slow into turn 6, because as she passed she could see him gesturing angrily towards her from his cockpit. At least she wasn’t the only one not respecting their recently amicable relationship. 

“Naughty.” Hugh said, and Kit swore she could hear a slight smile in his voice. 

“If he’s actually faster he can overtake me back.” Kit replied. She was positively grinning. The remaining 20 laps of the race passed with little action other than a light bit of reprimanding over the radio, but Kit had never been happier to see a chequered flag. For the first time since joining RedBull, her race-defining overtake didn’t have to happen in a heart-palpitating last lap show of heroics. It was less interesting, but she would take a mid-race DRS overtake on a one-stop strategy over intense battle for position any day of the week. 

“P2 Kit. Well done today, but, yeah. We’ll be talking about that later.” Hugh said over the radio.

“Haha, I would expect no less.” Kit replied, not able to stop herself from rejoicing. 

“Kit Kelly, congrats, you have been voted Driver of the Day.” An unfamiliar female voice said over the radio, sending Kit into a few seconds of silent confusion before understanding what was happening. 

“Really? For today? Guess I’ll have to keep giving the people what they want.” Kit joked. She knew she would have to pay for all this cheekiness that night at the team debrief, but at this moment she didn’t really care. 

“May-be. Great race, can’t wait to see you up on the podium.” The woman said. Kit didn’t reply as she was pulling up to the 2nd place sign in parc fermé for the second race running. Her heart swelled as she realised what this meant; she had a seat for next year. And not at RedBull’s shitty sister team, no. At RedBull. Even after today’s disobedience, she was sure the seat was hers. After all, Max kept his seat after Baku last year, and she’d actually done a clean overtake. 

After securing the car, Kit couldn’t stop herself from a small fist pump of victory, hoping that she’d held her arm close enough to her body for not many people to notice. She walked over to start removing her helmet and gloves when she felt something jolt her from behind. It took her by such surprise and with such force that she actually tripped over her own feet slightly, luckily not falling over. Max’s body appeared to be the culprit as he stormed past her, silently and angrily. Kit didn’t know why she was a little bit shocked at his behaviour. She had to remind herself that two weeks of friendship couldn’t combat a whole year of hatred. Old dog, new tricks, that sort of thing. She just grinned and shook her head inside her helmet, his shitty attitude unable to dampen her excitement at the podium and the relief at making it through the season. 

The Mercedes crowd surrounding parc fermé was buzzing with excitement at Lewis’ championship, the RedBull crowd also fairly excited at scrounging a double podium after beating Ferrari for second in the constructors had become a pipe dream many races ago. Kit could hardly contain her smile as she removed her helmet. While two weeks ago she’d been in the exact same position, it truly was beating Max that made her podiums taste like victory (and a lack of a recent break-up, but that wasn’t nearly as important). The asphalt was hard underneath her soft race shoes as she ran over to the RedBull crowd to give Hugh a hug, ignoring the unenthusiastic stares from everyone else. 

“Thank you.” Kit said in his ear as she squeezed his shoulders over the railing. 

“What for? I gave you the team orders.” He said back quietly as they separated. 

“No you didn’t.” Kit replied, his sheepish smile confirming her suspicions. In her peripheral vision she could see the other employees turned towards her with some expectancy, given that Max had completely bypassed the team and was doing his podium interview already. 

“Kit, I suppose I should be giving you my congratulations.” Christian said with a fatherly reprimanding tone.

“Well, I don’t know. Should you be?” She grinned, yet felt her stomach seize up. She might be pushing this too far. 

“As if I’d let you go anyway else after that. Ferrari would snatch you up in a heartbeat.” He replied. He pulled her in for a firm hug and Kit felt a surge of appreciation for the man. Sure he was a bit of a sly, conniving asshole, but he was on her side, even if it was for slightly selfish reasons. “Go on, you’re next.” He said as he released her towards the interviewer. Kit ran half-hearted hands through her hair to try and make herself look more presentable, but according to her mother she always looked prettier when she had her real, happy smile on anyway. 

“Kit, bit of a dramatic race for you today. Good way to end the season, or maybe not, given your seat is still up for contention?” Kit’s eyes flicked back over to Christian, who gave her a nod of approval to answer the question honestly. 

“Well actually, I can now confirm that I’ll be driving for RedBull next year, so definitely a good way to end the season.” Kit announced cheerfully. She wished she could’ve seen Max’s face, being nearly certain that he hadn’t been informed of her status beforehand like when she had her initial appointment to the seat. He probably wouldn’t have been so uncharacteristically nice to her last week if he had. 

“That certainly puts a different light on things then, doesn’t it? Will we be seeing more of what we saw today next year then between you and Max?” The crowd cheered loudly, and Kit half-turned to watch her overtake playing out on the big screen. She let out a low whistle witnessing her car sail past Max’s. She might have to steal Carlos’ title of smooth operator after that. 

“Uh, I mean probably, given we’ve been fairly close since the summer break. But I think I might have to be on my best behaviour after today.” Kit laughed, noticing Hugh shake his head affectionately in the crowd. 

“Best of luck to you, and congrats on the seat.” 

“Thank you very much.” Kit said, turning her back to head to the cooldown room as the crowd erupted for Lewis. His 6th championship title would hopefully take a bit of the spotlight off of Max and Kit and whatever was about to unfold. She considered her next move as she walked up to the small room beside the podium. Did she say something? Part of her was on such a high that she wanted to antagonise him a little bit, the same way he’d done just two weeks ago. Another part of her felt guilty, felt bad for him even, sympathising with the disappointment of losing to a teammate. Then she snapped herself out of it. Max had lulled her into some weird headspace where she now viewed him as a nice person; his shove earlier proved that that simply wasn’t the case. 

“Hey Max.” Kit said lightly as she entered the room. She noticed that there was already a camera set up in there, so even though most channels would still be broadcasting Lewis’ podium interview, there was a chance this would be a public conversation. 

“Fuck off.” Well, clearly Max didn’t have the same observational skills as Kit, or he saw the camera and just didn’t care. 

“Wow, thought we were friends now.” Kit replied smugly. She knew she was poking a sleeping bear (or semi-awake, already irritated bear) but she just couldn’t help herself. The only thing that would make her even happier would be to hear Max’s radio as she overtook him. That would be a work of art. 

“Who said that?” Max asked innocently. Kit didn’t know why, given she was also being a bitchy prick, but the nonchalant tone of his question hurt her a little, just a tiny pang of regret for being the cause of their reinvigorated fighting. But given his reaction immediately following the race, Kit didn’t think that this attitude of Max’s was avoidable. She may as well have a bit of fun if he was going to be in a bad mood anyway. 

“Just the way you let me past on the track, seemed very friendly to me. Or, hang on, were you defending?” Kit couldn’t contain her smile, making it quite difficult to sip from her water bottle. 

“Sorry I didn’t want to make us both not finish, given you probably wouldn’t be able to control the car if I defended properly.” Max shrugged. 

“Oh wow, such a team player.” Kit rolled her eyes. 

“I was very happy to follow the team orders, in case you forgot.” He stressed. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you were. It’s not like they-” Kit cut herself off as Lewis entered the room, knowing that the cameras would be following the championship winner.

“Congrats mate.” Max said, although he clearly couldn’t force himself to smile as he said it.

“Yeah, what’s that now, 20 championships?” Kit joked, happier at Max forcing himself to look amused than Lewis’ laugh. 

“Not quite there yet. Anyway, with you two on my heels I could be in for a tough fight next year.” The older man said humbly as he replaced his Mercedes cap with the black winner’s one. 

“We’ll try our best.” Kit replied quickly, knowing that if Max got in first he would’ve said the same thing but replaced the ‘we’ with ‘I’. 

“Ready for the podium?” An F1 employee said as she poked her head in the door. 

“Yep.” The three replied in unison. Their enthusiasm ranged from Lewis, the happiest an F1 driver could ever be, to Max, who looked as if he’d been shot in the foot. 

“Wonderful. So you’ll head out on the podium as your name’s called, receive your trophy, then the anthems, then the champagne. I’m sure you’re all experts on it by now.” The woman smiled, and Kit grinned wider than the other two at the realisation that, even if it was just by this one woman, she was considered to be a frequent podium finisher. 

“Sounds good.” Lewis replied. Kit warmed from the inside out when she noticed that he was clenching and unclenching his hands in anticipation and excitement at the championship title.

“In third place, Max Verstappen!” A voice boomed, and Max took his spot on the podium with a downcast expression, forcing himself to sport a tight smile as he held up his trophy in triumph towards the team below. 

“In second place, Katherine Kelly!” Kit made a bemused face at the use of her full name, morphing into excitement as she felt the cold metal of the silver trophy in her hands, shaking it up above her head to soak in the moment before she was overshadowed by Lewis. 

“And in first place, for the 11th time this year, your Formula 1 world champion, Lewis Hamilton!” Kit had placed her trophy down on the ground to be able to clap and cheer for Lewis, grinning as he held up the trophy high and pointed to his team down below. She was just as happy for him as she was for herself, standing on the podium with a world champion. That was going to be her one day, but for now she was content with having beaten Max. 

The champagne music blared loud and clear following the anthems, Kit fizzing up the champagne and nearly yelping as it practically exploded in her hands. She, on instinct, began to walk to the edge to shower the team, but then remembered that it was Lewis’ moment and he deserved the champagne more than anyone. The four, including Toto, sprayed each other like little kids with water guns until the bubbles stopped spraying, then commencing the drinking portion. The Mercedes driver grinned at both Kit’s and Max’s streams of champagne pouring over him, opening his mouth to drink the alcohol. Him and Toto continued to celebrate with their team over the edge, with Kit and Max having no other choice than to drop back out of the limelight. 

“Are you really pissed off?” Kit asked Max after watching him take a long swig of champagne and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Take a guess.” He replied stonily. Kit took her own swig of champagne before responding. In trying to stay focused on Max, she let a few droplets roll down the sides of her mouth and onto the hand that was holding the neck of the bottle, licking the booze off once she lowered the bottle even if it wasn’t the best look. Max was staring at her after she finally swallowed, and she didn’t know what was pushing her to keep pressing him. It was like she had some innate desire to get a reaction, any reaction, out of him. 

“You’re just jealous.” She grinned. Max rolled his eyes as he picked up his trophy, already clutching the champagne, and walked off the podium. Kit gave the RedBull crew one last fist pump in the air before picking up her own trophy and walking off in the same direction as Max. She was absolutely drenched in champagne, and delighted in the fact that she would get to keep pestering Max all the way back to the motorhome. 

“You’re probably excited for the debrief though, you’ll get to have a whinge about me.” Kit continued as they headed down the stairwell that would put them back level with the paddock. Max didn’t reply, but that only made Kit more motivated to continue.

“Go on, you really won’t have anything to say? What about my seat, surely you have a few thoughts.” Kit prodded. The night sky greeted them as they exited the stairs, the paddock buzzing with press, drivers and team members, a certain atmosphere of excitement now that the season was ending. 

“Sure, I have thoughts.” Max replied. Kit could tell he was having to try hard to contain his true irritation as his eyes flitted around the paddock in front of them while hers stayed steady, boring into the side of his face. 

“Enlighten me.” Kit said. 

“I mean, I don’t know why they’re giving you a seat when you can’t even listen to instructions, but maybe they want someone like that.” Max answered. His face remained neutral except for a singular flare of his nostrils, betraying the fact that anger was probably boiling up inside him. The angel on Kit’s shoulder told her to stop, that two weeks ago when their positions were inverted Max wasn’t this belligerent, but then the devil in a little RedBull cap said that it was fine, it was funny, she would only have to see him for a few more days the following week and then nothing for 3 whole, precious months. 

“I’m sure they do, you know, want someone like that. Someone fast. Just as fast as their number one.” Kit said. The space between them was filled with the sound of race shoes on concrete and chattering paddock inhabitants. “Come on Maxie, admit it. I’m just as good as you.” Her comment was punctuated with Max pushing open the door to the motorhome so violently that it spun 180° and hit the flimsy wall next to it, banging so loudly that the few remaining people in the hospitality room whipped their heads over at the sound. Kit slipped in behind him before he could slam the door on her, and continued to follow him to their neighbouring driver rooms. Kit’s heart was beating fast in her chest, feeling like she was on a high from how effectively she was getting under his skin. But she needed to hit the nail in the coffin. “Oh hang on, I forgot, you already did.” 

Max’s fast reaction times were evident in the sequence that followed. Now standing in front of the driver rooms, in one swift motion he opened the door to his room with his left hand and grabbed Kit’s wrist tightly with his right hand, pulling her in behind him before pushing her back against the door, closing them off to the motorhome and cornering Kit all in one fell swoop. She would’ve yanked her hand away and given him a verbal dressing down at his manhandling if she wasn’t frozen with anticipation at what was about to happen. Both of them were breathing heavily, Max’s grip still tight around her wrist, eye contact unbreakable and intense. She could practically see her own reflection in his eyes, their chests just centimetres away from touching. 

“What, Verstappen? Cat got your-” Kit’s grin had barely formed on her face when she discovered exactly what his tongue was doing. It was currently acquainting itself with the inside of her mouth, their lips connecting in what Kit could only assume was the moment she chose to blink and break their eye contact because one second Max was in front of her and the next her eyes were closed and she could on feel him on her, their bodies touching everywhere all at once. She stayed frozen for a moment, unsure of what was happening, but then that same instinct that pushed her to poke and prod at him until he broke kicked in and she was reaching up to his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. 

His hands came to clutch at her waist with nearly as much force as had gripped her wrist, and his mouth felt like it was bruising her lips with the force he was kissing her. But it was cathartic, and Kit pressed back just as hard. Something about the feeling of his tongue on hers was like the release she’d been searching for. Their trophies lay forgotten on the floor, and her back was pressed against the door so hard Kit was surprised it hadn’t broken. 

Their hands began to scramble on the front of each other’s suits, the material proving to be too much of a barrier between what they were truly craving. Kit could barely breathe with how hard and long their lips were connected for, not to mention that her heart was beating out of her chest with the pure lunacy of what they were doing, but she couldn’t pull away. Having freed his upper body from its top layer of clothing, Kit relished the feeling of gripping onto his strong shoulders under the thin fireproof shirt. The firmness of her hold on him was partly due to the incredibly attractive feeling of his muscles moving under her palms, but also due to the fact that it seemed to relieve some of the rage fuelled tension within her clutch onto him with such intensity, even though she was sure it wasn’t hurting him. 

Max seemed to be taking a similar approach, forcefully pushing her arms off his shoulders to be able to remove the top of her race suit and resume his tight grip on her waist. The feeling of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her sides, accompanied by his lips moving rhythmically against her own made Kit’s stomach do a backflip, unsure of where this sudden intense rush of desire for her teammate was coming from. Max’s fingers travelled down her torso to where the hems of the top and bottom of the fireproofs met and ventured underneath the shirt, hands coming to rest on Kit’s now bare hips. Something about the scratch of Max’s callouses, presumably from working out, against her hot, bare skin snapped Kit out of her anger fuelled mission to feel as much of Max Verstappen as humanly possibly, the reality of their situation suddenly rushing back to her with full and sobering clarity. 

Kit pulled away from Max with a gasp, opening her eyes for the first time in what felt like years. Max stood in front of her, fireproofs scrunched and crinkled around his shoulders and hair dishevelled, mouth open and slightly panting. His eyes looked glazed and yet focused on hers, that same stare conveying too many emotions at once for Kit to figure out what he was thinking. She hated that her stomach erupted in butterflies at the sight of him. 

“Um…what, I should, we shouldn’t…I’m gonna…” Kit stammered as she opened the door to Max’s room and slammed it shut behind her, darting the half metre to her own room and not letting herself breathe until she was safely ensconced in the four small walls of the room. Sometimes she felt claustrophobic, but in that moment she felt safe. Her mouth and waist was still tingling from Max’s touch, and she could practically feel his body under her hands. Her mind was racing at an incomprehensible speed to the point where it became a blank jumble of nothing, and her heart was beating faster and stronger against the front of her chest than it did during a race. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck.” Kit repeated over and over again as she walked aimlessly in circles, trying to gather her thoughts while also trying to remember why she’d come here in the first place. Shower. Well, she didn’t have time for that now, she thought bitterly as she looked at her watch and saw that the ten short minutes she could usually use to get comfier for press had elapsed. How, she wasn’t sure. A team shirt would have to go over the top of her fireproofs, because now that Max had become so well acquainted with her body she felt as if everyone would know what they’d done by leaving her top exposed. 

In a rare moment of critical thought, Kit remembered that she would probably look like a mess, and huddled herself in the small bathroom to fix her hair at the very least. Opening her toiletries bag to retrieve a brush, she found that her hands were shaking and she could barely untie the two plaits that held her hair in place to re-tie them in a loose bun. Her breathing was still heavy, and she knew she would have to calm down before the media saw her like this. 20 minutes ago she’d been grinning like the world was in her hands, but now…but now. What the fuck had she done? Where did that come from? 

Not once, ever, never ever, would she have thought of Max like that. She couldn't remember a single time where she’d felt that way about Max before. Or had she? Had all the times she felt herself burn a pit of rage towards him in the bottom of her stomach actually just been her body wanting that ? No, surely not. This wasn’t some Freud situation, surely she was in touch enough with herself to know when she was attracted to someone. And she wasn’t attracted to Max. It was just a boiling over of tensions. It happened in books and movies all the time, so why wouldn’t it happen to her? Both of them were just bad at expressing their emotions constructively, so they resorted to, well, physical expression. Right? 

Kit wiped her mouth instinctually as she left her room and saw Max already down the hallway. There wouldn’t be any evidence of the crime they’d just committed, it wasn’t like either of them were wearing lipstick, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that people would know, somehow. No one could find out about this. Because it wasn’t even like it would be worth it, they weren’t having some secret love affair where both of them would sacrifice anything for the other person. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t worth anything. Kit still didn’t know how it happened. Their bodies had collided less than five minutes ago and it had all become a blur of the feeling of their clothes rubbing together and Max’s fucking hands on her fucking hips. She felt sick. 

“So Kit, you’ve just confirmed your seat for next year, so big congrats on that. Do you think your relationship with Max will improve now that you’ve had a bit more time as teammates, and if not, do you think that it could impact your season next year?” Will Buxton asked Kit in the media pen. Kit baulked at the word ‘relationship’ but quickly regained her composure, forcing her eyes not to flick over to Max, a few camera crews down the line. 

“Uh, I mean, it’s hard to say. Whatever happens, I don’t think it’ll impact my season, I’m usually pretty good at just focusing on the race and leaving out of the car stuff out of the car.” Kit answered. No one was looking at her suspiciously, but she felt like there were eyes on her. She felt like she needed to itch at her own skin, as if it would rub off the feeling of Max’s hands on her. They’d branded her, her hips phantomly still hot from his hands’ imprint. 

“You don’t think we’ll see more incidents like today, where team orders weren’t necessarily followed?” Kit smiled in spite of herself, not able to stop herself from glancing over at Max. 

“Hopefully I’ve shown the team that they shouldn’t give team orders unless one of us is actually faster, so, yeah. I don’t think that you’ll see what happened today again.” Kit said, not filtering herself after she distracted herself by looking at Max. The feeling of eyes on her intensified and she couldn’t stop her head from turning back to her left. Everything else faded into the background and all she could see was his burning eyes across the paddock. Neither looked away for a long moment, Kit only turning away at the repetition of her name, Will trying to ask her another question. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck had she done.

Chapter Text

Luckily for Kit, whose head was still spinning from her and Max’s…altercation, she was granted a quick escape from the paddock with no further interaction, as Christian called off the usual post-race debrief, claiming that “We’ll just chuck it in with the other shit next week, it’s fine.” Upon receiving that message, Kit practically sprinted back to the motorhome to make her exit from the paddock without having to see Max again. She nearly made it out of her driver’s room still in her race suit before remembering that she couldn’t exactly go home in it. The feeling of clean clothes on sticky skin made her cringe, but it was better than having to see Max again. Having to feel those cold eyes boring into her, almost seeing through her. 

  Her fingers automatically spun the volume knob up to the maximum as she got into the car. She didn’t give a fuck what was playing, shitty music, ads, evening talk show, anything. She just didn’t want to think about it. Any of it. Not what she and Max had done, not the consequences, none of it. Because she didn’t have any answers. She would just torture herself with the loop of images if she even thought about it for a second, because who could explain what just happened. Not her, and almost certainly not Max. Not that she wanted him to, unless he really did have an explanation, but not if his explanation was some bullshit Max excuse, but then again what if - okay, she was thinking about it. 

The hotel was too quiet. Her tennis shoes slapped down hard on the tiled floor and echoed around the cavernous lobby. Kit’s phone buzzed in her hand, and her heart unclenched as she saw it was Hugh, and not a PR manager or Max. 

Coming out tonight?  

Kit pondered for a moment, but decided that she’d been reckless enough for one day. 

nah, pretty tired. you have fun tho!!

Kit put her phone on Do Not Disturb after sending the text. She briefly considered calling her parents to tell them about her seat, but then remembered that it was about 2am in Sydney and she could just call them first thing the next day. Part of her wanted to call Charles or Daniel, but then remembered that they would probably be out alongside most of the other drivers, finishing position on the track not inhibiting final-race-celebrations. The silence of the elevator moving up the shaft to her floor only made her loneliness all the more potent. It was easy to forget that she had very few close friends during the season. It had only taken 4 hours of the winter break for her to start to remember again. 

Her hotel room window was open and Kit could hear the sounds of parties springing up around the city, unusual for a Sunday night anywhere else in the world on any other Sunday. She pulled the window shut quickly, not even flinching at the bang of it closing. What had she done. What the actual mother-loving fuck had she done. No, fuck off, shut up, don’t think about it. There’s nothing you can do now. There’s nothing you can do ever. You just have to move on and pretend it didn’t happen. Kit’s thoughts filled the quiet space of the hotel room effectively, not even registering the sound of the shower until she was naked and under the water. 

Kkt rubbed her skin raw with the harsh hotel soap. She wanted the feeling of him off of her, but nothing seemed to work. She was like Lady Macbeth, she knew the blood was on her hands and soon everyone would notice. She didn’t feel dirty, it wasn’t that. Nor did she feel violated. She just felt like he’d marked her in some way. Left a permanent imprint on her skin. 

  She dried herself with the fluffy towel quicker and harsher than usual before wrapping it around herself to venture back into the room and put on her pyjamas. A few months ago she’d been sitting in a Monaco restaurant contemplating the fact that she hadn’t made the most of her lifestyle, wasn’t living it up the way she should be, but now here she was at 9pm after her second consecutive Formula 1 podium and after the final race of the season, sitting on her bed in old cotton pyjamas looking for a movie to watch. Fuck, she didn’t even know where she finished in the championship. 

  Googling ‘F1 2019’ was something she’d twelve-stepped herself off of doing, because she learnt very early on in her career that rarely were things published about drivers without a skeric of critique, but she supposed she would be fairly irrelevant in the end of season recap. A final driver standings list was the first link, and she was chuffed that she didn’t have to scroll very far to find her name. P6. And with only half a season of points. After doubling her points, 125 to 250, she would have only finished in P5, just 10 points ahead of Seb, but that couldn’t dull the small smile that graced her features. She finished 13th last year, and now look at her. 

Curiosity killed the cat, but Kit chose to ignore the idiom as she pressed the back arrow at the bottom of her screen. She just wanted to have a look, just to see if she’d made any headlines. She probably hadn’t, after all, P6 wasn’t that good to most people.   

Kit Kelly confirmed at RedBull for 2020

Kit Kelly confirmed RedBull 2020 seat: what does it mean for Max Verstapppen?

Everything you need to know about Kit Kelly’s confirmed 2020 seat

Kit Kelly 2020 RedBull contract details

Okay, so she’d forgotten that not everyone was privy to her and Chirstian’s handshake agreement. She told herself she shouldn’t that she’d seen enough. And yet that second link was calling her name. She was so susceptible to clickbait; what did it mean for Max Verstappen? The link took a few moments to load, but once it did she was greeted with a photo of herself and Max. They were standing in the back of her side of the garage in Brazil, probably after qualifying from what was replaying on the screens behind them. They had both taken off their helmets and unzipped their race suits, sweaty and hair mussed with the faint lines of their helmets still imprinted on their faces. And despite Christian standing in front of them, the pair were staring at each other. Kit with pure annoyance in her eyes, a small scowl on her face, and Max in amusement, actually smiling for once, even if it was smug. 

Kit knew that everyone knew that she and Max didn’t like each other. She’d been asked questions about it countless times, told by Christian and their PR team to pretend to like him, and yet still, something about seeing it in visual form made Kit feel vulnerable. Like someone had spied into her bedroom at night and taken a photo of her sleeping form. The sight of Max in that photo made an unrecognisable swell of emotion rise up within her. It didn’t help that he looked nearly the exact same way he looked after she’d pulled away from him back at the motorhome. But she wasn’t going to think about that. Out of self-sabotage and nothing else, Kit began to read the article. 

The 2019 Formula 1 season has drawn to a close and for some, like Lewis Hamilton, they can leave with a sense of accomplishment, that they came to the track every week and did everything possible to get the results they wanted. Both McLaren drivers, the Renaults, even the Racing Points could say the same. Stock standard year, just keeping their heads down and working towards that final race. But for one team (or technically two), this year hasn’t been such smooth sailing.   

RedBull has become renowned in its short but illustrious F1 career for placing a big emphasis on immediate performance or risk demotion to its junior team, Torro Rosso (which will be renamed Alpha Tauri at the commencement of the 2020 season). This year was no exception. Following Daniel Ricciardo’s shock move to Renault, Torro Rosso driver and promising F1 talent Pierre Gasly was given his shot at RedBull, promoted to the empty seat to race alongside Max Verstappen. 

In the meantime, Sauber appeared to be taking a 180° from its all-rookie lineup of 2018, replacing Charles Leclerc with Kimi Raikonen, the pair switching places as Leclerc took his seat at Ferrari. Then, in a shock decision following Kelly’s stellar debut season, the rookie was replaced with reserve and test driver Antonio Giovinazzi, leaving the Australian stranded without a seat for 2019. 

Now with an empty seat and a talented young driver floating the paddock without a contract, RedBull swooped in to offer Kelly the Torro Rosso spot beside Kvyat, an unusual choice considering the legions of talented junior drivers in the RedBull academy. But Kelly ensured that RedBull wouldn’t have any regrets over her appointment, scoring an impressive points finish in all but one of her first twelve races with the team. Within those eleven races, eight saw Kelly finish P7 or higher, stats that matched or outdid Gasly who was equipped with a considerably faster car. 

In a move that sent shockwaves through the paddock, Christian Horner, RedBull Racing team principal, made the ruthless decision to exchange Gasly and Kelly, cutting the former no slack when it came to his performance besides Max Verstappen. A harsh comparison to make, considering the Dutchman is regarded as one of Formula 1’s most prodigious rising stars, scoring a top 5 finish in every race before the summer break, including two race wins and an additional three podiums. 

Yet this didn’t daunt Kelly. The Australian amassed a whopping 125 points in 9 races, including four podiums, two of which saw her outperform teammate Max Verstappen. Kelly, who was already the most successful female driver in the sport after one season at Sauber, has become the first woman to ever stand on a Formula 1 podium, as well as being the only woman to have scored a fastest lap, and qualify on the front row. But it was Kelly’s success in her own right, regardless of her gender, that convinced the RedBull team principal to keep her on, with Kelly confirming her place besides Vertsappen for the 2020 season following her outperformance of him in the season’s Abu Dhabi finale.   

But Kelly’s astonishing journey to her seat at a potentially championship-winning team isn’t what caught the attention of fans. From the outset, her tense relationship with Verstappen has been clear to anyone witnessing even one interaction between the teammates. A public and heated argument in Italy that was broken up by Lewis Hamilton was just the beginning of the saga. Public statements where disdain and apathy for the other’s performance was obvious, physical pushing and shoving in podium routines, disregard for team orders, not to mention constant stare downs across the paddock: video compilations clutter the internet of the pair not getting along, and that’s excluding what we don’t get to see behind closed doors. 

  So what can we expect next year? With Kelly having a full season at her disposal to properly challenge Verstappen, something we’ve seen her attempt and succeed at, as well as press statements from Horner that seem to suggest that RedBull’s 2020 car will be able to rival the speed of Mercedes, an inter-team fight for the championship will hopefully be on the cards. With a rivalry that has almost superseded Hamilton and Rosberg’s infamous 2016 championship battle, Kelly and Verstappen’s competitiveness is sure to reach new heights once consistent race wins are brought into the mix, inevitably providing endless entertainment for fans watching on.   

And yet, critics and fans of Kelly alike seem dubious that the driver will be granted equal treatment to Verstappen. “There’s just no way.” says Bernie Eccelstone, ex-chief executive of Formula 1. “Not only does Max have the talent that is just unmatched at the moment by anyone else on the grid, let alone this girl fresh out of F2, but RedBull have spent too many years working towards a championship for him to let that go by the wayside.” 

Danica Patrick, the most successful woman in IndyCar series’ history, also shares her doubts. “As a fellow woman in motorsport, I want to see [Kelly] win races and win championships, because she is most definitely good enough to do so. But at the same time, I’ve become a bit cynical after 20 years in the game and can’t help but think that [RedBull] aren’t gonna work with her to achieve those titles when there’s a man sitting next to her who wants the same thing.” 

Verstappen’s track record with teammates doesn’t seem to help her cause, his behaviour at the 2018 Azerbaijan GP alongside Ricciardo foreshadowing a brutal season next year. “When Max feels threatened, he goes on the attack.” Says his father Jos Verstappen. “If someone is in his way, whether it be for a race win or a championship, he won’t just sit back and let himself lose. Max doesn’t lose.”

  So it seems all we can do now is wait to see how each of them perform under the pressure. Best summarised in the words of Horner, “Both of them want to win, and more than that, they want to see the other lose. So we as a team need to mitigate that, you know, make sure the team result isn’t compromised, but at the same time, that fierce competition, if we give them the car to battle it out in, is what could get us winning championships again.

The fact that the journalist clearly liked Kit didn’t make her feel any better about the article. She remembered why she never read any media. It made her question everything she knew about herself and made her wonder if what people were saying, even people like Bernie, was really true. But then she forced herself to look across the room at her second-place trophy. It was real and it was hers, and no one could take that away from her. With a small smile on her face at the self-reminder, she turned on the Indy500 and turned the volume low, the familiar sound of engines and excited commentators lulling her to sleep.

Kit travelled back to Milton Keynes the next morning ahead of a week of meetings and season wrap ups before the FiA’s prize giving (which she wouldn’t be attending, having no obligation to and not wanting to be forced to smile and clap as Max received his third place trophy). Probably attributed to the fact that neither of them wanted to see the other, Kit didn’t run into Max a single time in the factory.  

Kit forgot that they only really shared their race debriefs during the season because there wasn’t enough space, time, or resources to be able to have two separate meetings. In reality, every week she would sit through a discussion on Max’s race and he would sit through one on hers, only both listening when it came to brief discussions of strategy for the next weekend. And given that wasn’t a factor now, and that driver involvement for the next year wasn’t really required until February, they were left to their individual team meetings.

It was Friday afternoon, the day before the prize giving and the last real day of work for the year. The offices had an atmosphere of relaxation, with only cursory gatherings happening to wish everyone a restful break. Kit made her way around to everyone, giving her thanks and wishing them a Merry Christmas, certain that she would be out of there within the hour and on her way back home to Monaco, which really was just a stop on her route to Sydney.

“Hey Cath. You’re still working?” Kit said jokingly as she approached the PR manager from behind.

“Oh yeah, well, Radhika was ‘sick’ today,” the older woman held up her hands for air quotes, “so now I’ve gotta do her last-minute work. Which includes writing questions for your video, so sorry if they’re shit.” Cath muttered as she arranged text on a template of rectangles.  

“My video?” Kit questioned, apprehension in her voice.

“You know, on-the-couch? Except we’re not gonna call it that anymore cos it was sorta Daniel and Max’s thing, could be a bit odd.” Cath said, turning expectantly as she pressed print on the template and walked to a nearby room, presumably to collect whatever she’d sent through. Kit followed her, willing her to be joking.  

“So it’s me and Max.” Kit said.  

“Yep, asking each other questions, talking about the season. Look, okay,” Cath began defensively as Kit opened her mouth to retort. “I know you two don’t get along, but you’ve just got to grin and bear it for half an hour because if we don’t make something, then it’ll be almost officially confirmed that you hate each other.”

Kit felt her heart begin to pound at the thought of seeing Max again. She didn’t even think she hated him anymore. Everything was too confusing now for her to be able to neatly categorise it as hatred.  

“Yeah, alright.” Kit mumbled. She’d manage to convince herself that no one would know, that there was no physical way anyone could know, but those fears all came rushing back. What if, after a week without seeing Max, just the sight of him in front of her would somehow evoke some emotion on her face and it would be clear for everyone to see that they’d, well, pashed. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she pulled her RedBull jacket tighter around her anyway. As if seeing any curve of her torso would signal to everyone where Max had - no. She wasn’t going to think about it.

  The small camera crew was set up in the part of the factory that housed all the old RedBulls, two armchairs and lights placed directly in front of that season’s car. And seated in the armchair of the left was Max, ankle resting on his knee, scrolling through his phone, not a care in the world. Since Kit hadn’t seen Max since…then…she had just assumed that he was feeling the same emotions as her: stressed, confused, wondering why she didn’t hate him more. But here he was, relaxed. He even smiled at her as she sat on the opposite chair.

  “Hey.” He said coolly.

  “Hey.” Kit replied. She was unable to hide the hesitancy in her voice, confused as to why he wasn’t acting more scattered like her.

“This is pretty fucking stupid, don’t you think?” His eyes didn’t shy away from hers, an unreadable expression behind them.

“Yeah.” Kit forced out a laugh. “They’re trying to combat our image.” Kit was glad her words were followed swiftly by Cath handing them cards and giving them instructions, because Max’s face fell in an instant so fast it would’ve been missed by anyone without Formula 1 reaction times.  

“Kit, do you wanna do the introduction?” Cath said from behind the camera.

  “Uhh, sure.” Kit forced herself to smile widely. If Max wasn’t going to act weird (ignoring his temporary drop in expression, but that could’ve been about anything) then neither was she. This only confirmed what she’d been telling herself all week: it meant nothing.

“Hey guys, Kit here.” Kit began awkwardly, her fake smile turning into a real one albeit, marred by confusion, as Max began to laugh genuinely from beside her. She turned to face him and joined in laughing as well, unsure as to when in the past week she’d missed the memo that they were friends now. “Shut the fuck up.”  

“Sorry, sorry.” Max replied as he sat up straight again.

“Hey guys, it’s Kit.” She began again, her smile genuine this time. “I’m joined by Mr Max Verstappen, and we’re in the Milton Keynes factory today to, uh, unpack the season.”

“You sound so excited.” Max said.

“I’m actually quite cold, I’m not gonna lie.” Kit said as she felt a cold breeze at her ankles, the storage part of the factory not exactly outfitted for human occupation.

“Oh well. You’ll cope.” Max said as he picked up the question cards. Kit rolled her eyes but didn’t feel the usually pulsating rage motivating her to. It was maybe even a bit friendly. “First question. How would you describe Formula 1 to someone who has never seen it before?” Max asked. Kit didn’t know why her brain decided to point out to her in that moment that he was wearing a cap, even indoors.

“Uh, people drive around…I mean, that’s basically it.” Kit replied.

“You’re not exactly uplifting up our sport.” Max complained.  

“You just gotta be in the know to know, you know?” Kit grinned at the stupid line from a stupid cartoon.

“Huh?” Max practically grunted, making a face at her.

“It’s…don’t worry about it. Max.” Kit affirmed as she looked down at her own card. “How old is too old to be a Formula 1 driver?”

“Maybe, probably forties, you know, start slowing down a bit.” He answered seriously.

“So that’ll be you, what, next year?” Kit grinned.

“You’re like, not even a year younger than me.” Max protested.

“I’m still sharper than you.”

“Whatever. What are your three highlights of the season?” Max read.

“Hmm, let’s see.” Kit said, trying not to portray the three incidents that came to mind: her promotion, Matteo and her’s breakup, and Abu Dhabi as a concept. Not that they were all highlights, but she supposed she could use the first and sort of the last one.  

“I guess the summer break, cos you know, got my big girl promotion. Then maybe Russia, although,” Kit paused, remembering her and Max’s interactions that day. “No yeah, Russia, first podium. Then maybe Brazil, for the team’s 1-2 finish.” Kit said, only clarifying her answer after she saw a glint of knowing flash through Max’s eyes. Brazil was where they had their hotel hallway experience. Not that Kit remembered it until after she answered, of course.

“What about you?” She asked.

“Probably Silverstone, with my overtake on Charles. Um Brazil as well, good team result that day. And uh, I don’t know. Maybe Germany, cos that was like a win at a home race.” Max replied. 

“Ja, Deutschland.” Kit said adsentmindlely. 

“Du willst deutsch sprechen?” Max replied in German, only identifiable to Kit from Dutch because it didn’t seem to be as bouncy. 

“Uhh,” Kit paused. “Du bist Weltmeister!" The pair laughed and Kit tried not to display her bewilderment at the fact they were getting along. Max clearly wanted to pretend like nothing happened, including their brief venture back into hating each other across the weekend and that they were friends. It was nice, just like it was in Brazil and at Christian’s birthday. Kit could do friends. 

“You will have to learn more than that before we go back next year.” Max said. 

“Why? Germany’s what, the,” Kit began to count on her fingers, “Tenth race of the season? I could have Weltmeister in the bag by then.” 

“Don’t you mean me? Cos you’ll be saying to me ‘du bist Weltmesiter’.” Max grinned, and Kit just shook her head but look down to read the next question as Cath gave them both a silent hurry up with her hands from behind the camera. 

“US grand prix, there was a radio message from Gianpiero Lambiase.” Kit exaggerated her Italian accent as she read out GP’s full name even though it was abbreviated on the card. “He said ‘That exceeded track limits. Don’t answer me.’ What would have been your answer if you had responded?” Kit grinned at the question as she pictured Max’s usual demeanour within the car. 

“Probably a lot of swearing. It was like the third time in a row that I’d been held up on a fast lap though, so I literally had my finger on the button about to start yelling when he said that.” Max replied. 

“I was the same in the US cos I thought no one could hear me, but uh, yeah, well they could so…” Kit trailed off. 

“Speaking of swearing,” Max began as he looked at his cards, “would you rather win the Monaco GP or come second and not do any media all weekend?”

“Says you! I don’t swear during media.” Kit said indignantly. 

“Last time I checked bullshit was a swear word.” Max said pointedly. 

“Touché. Anyway, uhh, I mean I should say the win, but…no, it would have to be the win.”

“What if you won but you did something dodgy during the race and so media was even worse?” Max continued. 

“What dodgy things do you think I’d be doing?” Kit laughed. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Max said as he held his hands up surrender. 

“What would you pick?” Kit asked. 

“The no-media is really tempting, but I think I would say the win as well.”

“Great minds think alike. Okay, would you rather: win the driver’s championship in 2020 but then you have to stop racing forever, or race for the next 15 years and only finish second or third?” Kit asked. 

“Win the championship. Surely.” Max said confidently. 

“And never race again?” Kit quizzed.

“Does iRacing count?” Max asked seriously, looking at Cath behind the camera.

“Yeah, it does.” Kit jumped in before she could reply. 

“Seriously?” 

“It’s still racing bro.”

“What about, can I like, go to the track and just drive around?” Max continued. 

“Nope, nothing.” Kit grinned at how seriously Max was considering the question. 

“Then maybe I would have to stay in for 15 years and only come second or third. But how depressing would that be?” Max said. 

“But if you could keep your sim you’d retire?” Kit pressed.

“Hmm, no, I’d still need something. Like I would just rent out a track and drive around myself. It wouldn’t have to be actual racing, but you can’t just not drive man, come on.” Max said indignantly. 

“Yeah, I reckon I’d say the same.” Kit agreed. She watched Max look down at his next card and his face went through a few iterations of expression, finally settling on amused. 

“This is a good one. What would you choose: finishing fourth and your teammate doesn’t finish the race, or finishing third and your teammate wins?” 

Kit tilted her head back to try and hide her smile. “Umm, I mean…” She trailed off as she looked at Max with a grin. Their expressions mirrored each other’s, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. “No, okay, no. I’ll say third and my teammate wins, but only if you agree.” 

“Why do I have to agree?” Max asked incredulously. 

“Because I’m not about to be coming third every week while you win. It has to be 50/50. Otherwise I’d pick fourth place and you not finish.” Kit smiled. 

“Okay, fine. Third and my teammate wins. We should be team players.” Max smiled. 

“I know it hurts you to say that.” Kit continued. 

“You can win. Just not more than me.” Max grinned. “Okay, which place and track stood out to you this year?” Again, Kit’s uncontrollably fast and intrusive train of thought led her to the streets of Rio, sightseeing with Daniel and Max as she nursed her broken heart. She wouldn’t be discussing that. Kit cast her mind back through the season and couldn’t put a finger on a single weekend where something negative didn’t happen. Damn, what a year.

“Um, maybe Spa? It was my first race with the team, so that was, you know, exciting.” Kit said blandly. 

“Follow up question, what track and city are you most looking forward to returning to?” Max asked.

“Melbourne, no contest. Home race is always my favourite.” Kit said immediately. 

“Yeah, Melbourne is fun.” Max said dismissively. 

“What was your standout city, Max?” Kit replied condescendingly. 

“Well, let me see. Maybe Mexico, in terms of the actual city.” He said and Kit had to rack her brain to remember what had happened there. Oh, that’s right, the elevator-argument-followed-by -an-inappropriate-conversation-with-Christian-about-her-contract weekend. What a classic. 

“Yeah?” Kit said, amused. 

“Yeah.” Max replied knowingly. 

“Okay, Max. It’s 2020, you’ve just won the driver championship and your race career is over: what are you doing?” Kit laughed. “You’re so predictable, they knew that would be your answer.”

“You said the same thing!” Max said loudly. “Anyway, uh, I don’t know really. Polishing my trophy.” They both laughed. 

“You wouldn’t have started a go-karting team yet?” Kit grinned, slightly confused as she saw Max’s face drop slightly. Of all the things she’d said in the past 20 minutes, that was what rubbed him the wrong way?

“Nah, not yet anyway.” Max didn’t elaborate, so she assumed she’d just imagined his change in expression. “What will you be doing?” He asked.

“Are we tying for the championship?” Kit joked. 

“You know what I mean.” He smiled. 

“I reckon I’d be…actually, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll move onto other sports, become a pro-netballer or something.” She laughed at Max’s blank expression.

“What the f-hell is netball?” He asked. 

“It’s like basketball, except when you get the ball you can’t move.” Kit explained. 

“Wow, sounds really exciting.” Max said flatly. 

“Hey, netball gets a bad rap. It’s actually quite aggressive.” Kit said defensively. 

“If you’re going pro then I’m not surprised.” Max’s laugh echoed off the factory walls at Kit’s unimpressed stare. “Okay, this one’s for both of us. How honest are you?” Kit couldn’t help but feel like Max’s stare was boring into her, despite the smile he kept on his face. 

“I’m honest when I need to be.” Kit dodged. 

“I’m always honest.” Max said pointedly.

“Really? You hide it so well.” Kit said sarcastically as Max rolled his eyes. “Is there anything you want to do next season that you didn’t get to do this season, both on and off track?” Kit’s stomach coiled up at the phrase off-track. There was going to have to be some serious self-Pavloving to get her brain to stop seeing links to unpleasant memories in everything she or Max said. 

“World championship, hopefully. And uh, I don’t know. Maybe we will be better friends next year.” Max said. He nearly sounded vulnerable, the statement just turning up slightly in a half-question. 

“I second that.” Kit grinned. 

“Us being friends, or the world championship?” Max smiled back. 

“Uh, both. I’d prefer the championship to friendship though, if you’re gonna make me choose.” Kit laughed. 

“Me too, so maybe our friendship can be based on that.” Max laughed in return. “I only have one question left and it’s a bit stupid, do you wanna ask another one?” Max said. 

“I’m all out.” Kit said. Although she was enjoying (if not a bit confused by) their newfound amicability, she was also happy to be able to go home. Like, properly home, not hotel-home. 

“Okay, well, the final question, who do you think is better looking, me or you?” Those bloody mother-fucking invasive thoughts. Kit instantly pictured Max, hair dishevelled, race suit half done up and panting for air in his driver room. She actually felt her cheeks warm up, and she forced herself to grin and hope nobody would notice her pause. 

“How is that even a question? Me, obviously.” Kit laughed, potentially a bit too strongly. 

“I think we’ll have to leave that one up to a vote. We’re too biased.” Max laughed with her. Kit tried not to read into the fact that he didn’t actually give an answer. It was just a stupid quiz game, after all. 

“Okay, well that’s it. Vote in the comments who you think is better looking, and we’ll see you guys next year.” Kit said, assuming her temporary role as MC. 

“Ahh, well done you two. That was some good shit, the fan’s will eat it up. I s’pose you lot can go now, unless you have anything else to do?” Cath said as she stood up from her chair behind the camera, addressing the two drivers. 

“Nope, I’m off.” Kit said with a sigh as she stood up. “Have a good Christmas Cath.” Kit smiled and gave the woman a corporate-friendly hug. 

“Are you walking out that way?” Max asked Kit as they made their way towards the door of the huge warehouse, pointing to a back door that would lead to the carpark and bypass the interior offices. 

“Sure, why not.” Kit had planned on doing one last run-around of the offices to say goodbye to any stragglers, but the concept of her own bed back in her apartment was calling her name, and at least now she knew she’d be seeing them all the next year anyway. Max pushed the glass door open, a light drizzle spitting down on them as they set off around the perimeter of the large factory. It fell silent between them without the prompt of pre-prepared questions. Kit found herself actually missing the lighthearted conversation that had flowed between them just moments before. She could almost envision a barrier that moved alongside them, and unfortunately, it just happened to be a barrier that couldn’t be overcome through silence. 

“Max, you know we should probably talk about…it.” Kit said quietly. It was maybe the softest she’d ever spoken to the man. 

“I don’t think we have to.” He replied abruptly, facial expressions betraying nothing. Kit had to blink a few times before his sharp answer really sunk in. When she’d had this conversation absentmindedly in the shower or while driving with a scarily realistic version of Max in her imagination, this was never how it went. 

“Really? It’s kind of, I mean it’s not a big deal, it doesn’t actually matter, but like, I don’t know, it’s not gonna be weird? We’re still gonna be teammates after today. We’re gonna see each other just as much in a few months' time.” Kit continued. She didn’t know why she was pushing it so much. After all, why did she care if things were weird between them?

“Exactly, after today we’re not gonna see each other for 2 months, longer even. So we can just forget it ever happened.” Max remained nonchalant even as Kit noticed his stride speed up. She wouldn’t push it more though. She never wanted to push Max past what he was willing to tell her ever again after Abu Dhabi. So she hummed her agreement and walked the final few metres to her car, waving goodbye. 

“Have a nice Christmas.” Kit said over the few metres separating their parked cars. 

“You too Kit.” Max replied. Both lingered for a few moments before lightning struck in the distance, snapping them back to the reality of increasingly heavy rain falling and the fact that they had places to be. She sighed deeply once within the confines of her car. After that, she thought her brain could do with a bit of a Max detox.

Chapter Text

“Fuck me, are you Kit Kelly?” Kit was lined up at the North Curl Curl beach cafe, about to place her order for fish and chips when she was interrupted by the over-excited teenage boy serving her. 

“Yeah, caught me.” Kit joked as she smiled widely at the boy. 

“You had a bloody good season. Reckon you’ll take the championship next year?” His eyes were wide in awe. 

“Hope so.” Kit grinned. “Could I just get fish and chips and a diet coke?” 

“Oh, right, fuck.” Kit laughed well-naturedly as the boy scrambled to put her order into the register. 

“Thanks mate.” 

“You’re uh, hey look at that, number 2.” The boy laughed as he handed her the receipt. 

“It’s meant to be.” Kit replied, walking over to the other side of the shop to collect her food. This was the kind of thing she’d missed all year. She’d been back in Oz for just over a month, and her mum said that she could actually feel that her shoulders weren’t as tense as they were after she’d landed. Kit had spent her days so far at the beach or relaxing at home, spending good quality time with her family and old friends. But most importantly, spending quality time alone with herself. 

She’d never faced a more torturous travel experience than the one from Nice to Sydney. 26 hours of no distractions, nothing to do but sit and stew in her own thoughts. The whirlwind of the season hadn’t fully sunk in until 3 hours into her first flight when she got seriously, incredibly bored and began to draw out the timeline of her and Max’s relationship on a piece of notepaper. It didn’t matter how much she told herself not to think about it ( it being the word she used to describe everything in her life that was somehow connected to Max, which now appeared to be just about everything), there wasn’t anything else for her to think about. 

They’d gone from hating each other, to seriously hating each other, then to getting along for about two seconds before they ended up arguing again in that Mexican elevator, then back to hating each other, then to whatever Brazil was, then to whatever Abu Dhabi was, and finally to whatever their most recent conversation was. Ever since Max stopped being a douche to her 24/7, Kit couldn’t stop her thoughts from spinning, trying to crack the enigma that was Max Verstappen. She wished he would speak his mind about all his emotions, not just the angry, negative ones. It was no longer productive to think about him, or anything to do with him, but if, even after laying out a timeline of the development of their situation, Kit still couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to him whenever she loosened her grip on it, she was giving up. If she wanted to torture herself then so be it, she always performed better in the car when she pictured Max’s infuriatingly smug face anyway. 

December gave her a nice reprieve. Everyone was at home with their families, enjoying time away from the paddock, so social media sort of fell quiet for a bit. She went Christmas shopping, sweltered her tits off in the air con of her parents’ house and watched the bushfire coverage on the news. And then 1 Jan hit. Kit could tell Daniel was excited to be going on a bit of a roadtrip with Max and some other friends, and she was happy for him, she really was. But she couldn’t stop her heart from stuttering whenever she opened instagram and saw them all somewhere beautiful, Max sporting a real smile. Part of her actually felt a bit jealous. 

Because, and this was the conclusion drawn from many, many hours of sun soaked deliberation, Kit was just stuck now. She couldn’t see herself leaving RedBull until she was forced out, and Max would be there until he was going grey, and she’d fucked over the beginnings of a friendship by going and kissing the man. Or he kissed her. It was sort of a trauma-blocked memory now. Whichever it was, they’d kissed, Max was friendly but then also closed off. That man was going to make her go grey before the end of 2020. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter how many times Kit had the same conversation with herself over and over again; Max’s behaviour and emotions were inexplicable to anyone but himself, with Daniel seeming to be the closest to cracking the code. So of course she was jealous of the other Aussie. Kit wanted to beat Max to the drivers championship more than a fish wants to live in water, but at the end of the day her life would be significantly less painful if they were friends, or at least friend ly , especially given now that they’d been able to hold a handful of enjoyable conversations that didn’t end in yelling or storming off or…that other thing. 

“Number 2.” Kit blinked a few times and walked up to the counter to accept her food as she was snapped out of her thoughts, not for the first or last time on her holiday.

“Thanks.” She smiled.

“Hey, you’re, um, fuck.” The teenaged girl said, clicking her fingers to try and remember.

“Kit Kelly.” The boy semi-yelled from the cash register. 

“That’s right. My dad loves you, reckons you’re better than Ricciardo.” The girl grinned. 

“Tell him he’s got his head screwed on straight.” Kit chuckled before departing to her previous spot where her bag and towel still lay. The Aussie sun was bright above her and the beach was bustling, waves crystal blue and picturesque. Kit knew that she probably shouldn’t have come out alone, but once she pulled her cap down over her eyes to sunbathe (wearing sunscreen of course, that hole in the ozone layer isn’t a joke), she looked like every other girl on the beach. 

Kit put in her headphones and started playing Daniel’s newest curation for her. Clearly he had a lot of time on his hands, because he had been sending her about one new playlist a week since the break started. Their tastes were fairly similar, both loving a bit of rock, and even though Daniel leant a bit too far towards country for Kit’s liking sometimes, she couldn’t help but smile as she listened to the playlists, knowing that he’d actually been thinking about her while they were apart. She lay her arms by her sides even if it made her look like a corpse, mortified by the thought of getting a hand-tan on her tummy. Her music wasn’t overly loud, but she was an expert at zoning out, and so the sounds of over excited children and screaming teenagers faded away. She would never take the Australian beach for granted ever again, not after seeing Europe’s pale in comparison. 

It was the feeling of fingers pushing on her shoulder that penetrated Kit’s bubble. She jolted upright, headphones tumbling out of her ears and hat falling off in front of her, dragging wild bits of hair with her. 

“Kit?” She heard from behind her. Tilting her head around and up, she squinted hard to make out who the person in front of her was, the halo of sun around the woman’s head not helping matters. After a few long moments of ambient waves, it finally dawned on her.

“Cece!” Kit semi-squealed, recognising her high school best friend. She scrambled to her feet to embrace the girl tightly, not having seen her since she was 16. 

“Fancy seeing you here!” Ceci replied. Kit followed her on Instagram so it wasn’t a total shock to see her all grown up, but no pictures compared to seeing someone in the flesh. 

“Ditto! I always thought you were too pale for the beach.” Kit laughed, not letting go of the other girl’s arms. 

“Fuck off. Still a bitch after 5 years away?” 

“You bet.” Kit grinned. “Hey, you wanna split my fish and chips? I’m sure we have a lot to talk about.” Kit said, not realising how she’d momentarily forgotten about the food. 

“Defs, hang on, let me tell the boyf that he’ll have to cope without me.” Ceci replied, turning to a very good looking, very tan, blonde man who was awkwardly standing a few metres away.

“Nice one Cece.” Kit muttered. 

“I know right. He’s obsessed with me.” The girl smiled before walking over to him to inform him of her new situation. The man just smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead before continuing down the beach, and Kit’s heart clenched in happiness for the other girl. Ceci had spent their few high school years together frothing over boys that she was way too good for, and now she’d actually found someone who deserved her. Kit smiled even wider. 

“You know how we used to always say that we’d still be able to chat after years of not seeing each other when we were in year 10? Why did we actually let that happen?” Kit asked as she sat down and patted the spot next to her on the towel. 

“Cos we’re lazy idiots, that’s why.” Ceci said as she nabbed a chip. “Anyway, you’ve been in fucking Formula 1 so I don’t blame you.” 

“It’s no excuse.” Kit smiled. 

“Sure it is. Go on, who are the real dickheads on the grid, I won’t tell anyone.” Ceci grabbed Kit’s diet coke and cracked it open, taking a sip. Nothing had changed. 

“Well, my teammate, for starters.” Kit said, even though she felt a touch of guilt tug at her heart. 

“Oh babes, we know.” Ceci laughed. “I’ve never seen you be that much of a bitch. Like, for real, not just joking. He must seriously get under your skin.”

“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.” She nearly began telling the whole story, but realised that just because it felt like nothing had changed, she hadn’t seen Ceci in 5 years. She couldn’t just go blabbing this stuff to anyone who would listen. “But what about you? Uni, I guess.” 

“Yeah, I just finished my last year. I’m a fully qualified physio baby.” Ceci did a happy little wiggle on the towel at the announcement.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna have like a proper fucking job. That’s so weird.” Kit said. 

“You’re a literal Formula 1 driver Kit. I don’t wanna hear it.” Ceci replied sarcastically. 

“I still remember your mum giving me massages when my neck hurt after a big race.” Kit smiled, thinking back to her karting days. 

“Don’t worry, the physio gene is strong in the family. Plus, she’s gotten worse. She really digs her hands in there now.” Ceci demonstrated with her own hands. 

“She always did that, you’re just weak.” Kit laughed. 

“No, she went easy on you because she wished you were her daughter and not me. You remember the first time you came to my house in year 7?” Ceci asked. Kit remembered the day vividly. They ate barbecue shapes and watched Dance Academy. 

“How could I forget?” Kit laughed. 

“Yeah, well, after that, you know what Sharon said to me? She said, ‘Kit seems like a lovely girl, you should act a bit more like her Cece.’ Favourite from day one. And all you did was eat my food and sit on my couch.” Ceci said indignantly. 

“What can I say? The people love me.” Kit laughed as she broke off a bit of battered fish. 

“You can say that again. You know we had a high school gatho sort of thing, not like a reunion or anything, just a few of us at the pub, and god, you would’ve thought you’d, like, at least graduated with us for how much they were blabbing on about you. Like I love you, but fuck me, it was ‘do you know Kit’s doing this?’, ‘you know Kit’s dating this guy?’, and you know who the main one was? Katie fucking Morohan.” Ceci said dramatically. 

“God.” Kit groaned. “She isn’t saying we were friends, is she?” Kit could vividly remember the girl, arguably the most annoying private school girl in Sydney, and that was saying something. 

“I’ll do you one better, she was fully just inventing stories about the two of you. Apparently you took her to a go-kart race and some guy who’s now a driver gave her his number?” Ceci said, not being able to make it through the story without laughing. 

“What is that girl on?” Kit laughed with her. 

“I have to agree with her thought, your boyfriend is smoking.” Ceci said.

“Ex-boyfriend.” Kit corrected. She was going to have to pash someone else just so she wouldn’t have to keep making the distinction. Oh wait, she already did. And yet here she was. 

“Fuck, what happened?” 

“He was just an asshole, broke up with me over an Instagram photo.” Kit said nonchalantly. Compared to the cartwheels her stomach performed whenever she tried to untangle the mess of Max’s presence in her life, the mention of Matteo hardly stirred a tumbleweed anymore. 

“Oh, the one with you and Max and you’re in a bikini?” Ceci asked. 

“Fuck off, how do you know that?” Kit grinned. 

“I’m right? Nice.” Ceci laughed. 

“No but seriously, why that photo?” Kit continued. 

“Firstly, you look hot as fuck. And I don’t know, I mean I know you said he’s a douche, and I’ll take your side no matter what, but there’s just something in Max’s eyes, you know?” Ceci explained. 

“Hold on.” Kit said as she retrieved her phone from her bag. “Be specific.” Kit shoved the instagram post towards Ceci.

“Okay, see, to the untrained eye this looks like nothing cos he’s got sunnies on. But,” Ceci waggled a finger at Kit, “his chin is tilted, see, that.” She zoomed in on Max’s face and Kit couldn’t help but start to feel queasy. “But it’s fine cos it’s tilted down not to the side, so at least he’s looking at you and not your ass.” Ceci concluded. 

“So you think that the fact he’s looking at me makes it obvious that I would get dumped.” Kit stated. Her paranoia about people finding out about her and Max’s rendez-vous had settled somewhere deep in her subconscious and it was rearing its ugly head now. 

“No, not obvious. It takes a real piece of work to see that and dump someone. I would just say, personally, I don’t know. It sort of looks like Max is checking you out.” Ceci smiled to herself, pulling her sunnies low on her nose and waggling her eyebrows. 

“He is not.” Kit laughed, giving Ceci a soft push. 

“Hey, you can’t blame the man, I mean look at this.” Ceci said, waving her arm up and down Kit’s body. She was in a one piece cozzie, not wanting to feel too exposed, but it still gave her a rush of pride to know that she looked good. She had an ego, that was a secret to nobody. 

“Trust me, I know he’s not into me like that.” Kit had to actively keep her smile up as she thought about their last conversation. To be fair, it was easier to deal with him not caring at all than him caring a bit. 

“Ooh, do tell.” Ceci sang. 

“He just, something happened, and I wanted to talk about it, you know, clear the air. But he didn’t and said that it was nothing, which it was.” Kit gave Ceci a pointed look. “So, yeah. He definitely isn’t heading down that street.” Ceci stared back blankly. 

“That’s, um, yeah. You’re gonna need to unpack all of that,” Ceci waved her hand in a circle, “a little bit more.” 

“Argh I’m just…” Kit held her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. “I’m sick of thinking about it all the fucking time. It’s not like I come to any new decisions or actually solve anything. I just think about it over and over and over and I hate it because I hate him and he doesn’t deserve it, especially not when he’s fucking…I don’t know! But he’s not thinking about it like this. I just know he isn’t.” Kit felt a soothing hand on her back. 

“Maybe if you talk about it you’ll feel better. And if you don’t I’ll sign an NDA, no questions asked.” Ceci said, and Kit laughed despite herself. So she did talk about it. The pair of them laid on the sand until the shadows grew and Ceci’s boyfriend went home, Kit promising to drive her so that they could keep talking. And by the end of it Kit felt 10 kilos lighter. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about it all, in full, no restrictions. And it wasn’t just the kiss or the weird toing and froing from Max. Kit didn’t realise how much resentment she still had for him and his occasionally insufferable personality until Ceci was reaching over to unclench her hand from the towel. She would have to keep in touch with the girl after this, only if to maintain connection with someone outside the paddock.

“Jesus Kit.” Ceci sighed after a long moment of silence, the pair digesting everything that had been said. 

“I fucking know.” Kit sighed in return. 

“You need a therapist or something mate. Cos I can tell that that shit’s been brewing for a while.” Ceci said. 

“I just need a friend who’s not like, another driver or my 40 year old race engineer. Hey, what a coincidence.” Kit said, grinning at the other girl. 

“When you go back to London or wherever it is you live-”

“Monaco, please.” Kit interrupted jokingly. 

“Oh fuck off. Okay, when you go back to Monaco ,” Ceci put a mocking tone in her voice, “just call me at like 4am and tell me all this shit. You’re gonna give yourself a hernia if you only ever talk to bloody Daniel Ricciardo about it. Aren’t they best mates?” 

“Well, sort of.” Kit said reluctantly. 

“Exactly. Also, I’m concerned about the amount of testosterone you’re surrounded by on a daily basis. When was the last time you could say to someone, ‘oh my God, I’m on my period too, we’re synced!’” Ceci joked. 

“I mean, when you put it like that…” Kit trailed off into a laugh.

“You should know enough women to be able to say that at least once a month.” Ceci said. 

“I don’t have a permanent physio. Maybe you could come on the road with me, be forced to give me massages whenever I tell you.” Kit said with a grin on her face, but if Ceci agreed, she would make it happen. 

“As tempting as that sounds,” Ceci began sarcastically, “mum’s given me the practice to run full time now that I’ve graduated. And, don’t, like, get too excited cos it’s not a sure thing, but I think Lachie’s gonna propose.” Ceci smiled widely.

“Your man?” Kit asked, the other girl nodding enthusiastically. “That’s so exciting, what the fuck? Send me an invite, I’ll be there.” 

“I’ll have it in January so you can come.” Ceci grinned.

“Your babies are gonna be fucking gorgeous.” Kit giggled, unable to stop herself from the excitement. 

“You know he’s a pro-surfer?” Ceci said happily. 

“Fuck!” Kit exclaimed and lay back in the sand, overcome by the perfection of it all. “How long have you guys been going out anyway?” 

“2 years, we met cos I was volunteering at this surf competition at Manly, just to see the hot guys, duh.” 

“Duh.” Kit echoed her friend. 

“And anyway, he won whatever division he was in and then after he came over to me and was like, have you seen where the winners are supposed to stand? And I was like, uhh, no. And then he went, sorry, I just assumed that the prettiest girl here would be the prize.” Ceci slapped a hand over her mouth, still getting giddy at telling the story. 

“Oh my fucking God.” Kit groaned. “That’s perfect, that’s novel worthy.”

“You know what else is novel worthy? The forbidden love of two Formula-okay, sorry, not funny.” Ceci switched mid-sentence after receiving a swift kick on the calf from Kit. 

“You know what though, I actually feel a lot more at peace with it.” Kit said as she sat up. “No, no seriously I do.” She repeated in response to Ceci’s dubious gaze. “I feel okay about it all. I’m gonna relax here for a few more weeks, then I’m gonna go back and we’re gonna be friends. Cos we’ve been friends before, briefly. We have the ability to be friends. And if it doesn’t work then we’ll go back to hating each other. But the other stuff…” Kit waved her hands around in front of her, “that doesn’t mean anything.” Ceci maintained her doubtful look for a moment before replying. 

“Is that what you actually feel, or what you think you have to feel because you know it wouldn’t work out?” Ceci asked softly. 

“I think it’s what I actually feel. It was just a weird…thing, and I don’t think I would like, choose for it to happen again, you know?” Kit nodded confidently as she looked out at the waves, sunset just barely beginning to give the sky a warmer hue. Her chest did feel lighter, and her mind was calm and quiet for the first time in what felt like years. So it turned out that she just needed to talk about her problems. Who could have fucking guessed?

“Good, I’m glad. Fuck, gimme one sec.” Ceci said, looking down at her ringing phone. 

“Hey…yeah sure that’s fine…no seriously it’s all good…I’m sure we’ll see each other again before she goes back…okay sounds yummy…alright, bye. Lachie started cooking us dinner but then realised he didn’t know when I’d be home.” Ceci smiled. 

“Fuck off. Come on, let me drive you back to your perfect man.” Kit said, faux-annoyance cracking as a smile broke out on her face.

“Kit, there’s more to life than men.” Ceci replied. 

“You can say that, because you have a perfect man.” Kit joked. 

“No but really, you would rather have a world championship than a perfect boyfriend, wouldn’t you?” Ceci asked.

“Well, yeah.” Kit replied nearly immediately as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Then that settles it.” Ceci grinned. 

“I’ll give you a shout out if I win. To my best friend, who told me that championships are more important than men.” Kit laughed. 

“I still get to be your best friend?” Ceci said, wiping a non-existent tear. 

“Are you joking? I will in fact be calling you once a day if not more, you should at least get the badge of honour. Do I get to be your best friend?” Kit retaliated. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. Lachie is my boyfriend and my best friend, so, hey!” Ceci yelped as Kit whipped her towel at her bare legs. 

“So that’s a yes then.” Kit asserted. 

“Yes.” Ceci smiled as she linked their elbows together. Maybe this was what was missing last season, Kit thought to herself. All she needed was a gal pal to talk to.

Chapter Text

“Hey Cece, it’s Kit, obviously. Just calling to tell you that I’m freezing my tits off and everyone’s running late and I know I’ve only been gone a week but I already miss Sydney. Uhh, yeah, that’s about it. I wanna say call me back but I don’t think I’m gonna have any free time for the rest of the day cos of this bloody car launch, so just text and I’ll reply when no one’s looking. See ya.” Kit could hardly press the end call button on her phone from how cold and numb her fingers were. She was standing in an empty garage of an even emptier Silverstone, populated solely by the PR and marketing team and a noticeable lack of anyone coming to get her to start doing anything. 

The large digital numbers on the timing tower ticked over to read 07:00 exactly and Kit blinked her eyes slowly at the sight. The only thing keeping her awake was the bitterly cold air on her face. While most of the seasoned Brits bustling around her were fairly content with the single digit temperatures, Kit had taken approximately 0.2 seconds to acclimate back to Australian summer, and hence was shivering under two long sleeves, a hoodie, a jacket, and an overcoat, all emblazoned with the RedBull logo and sponsors. She felt like Max under all the merch, even a beanie on her head to top off the ensemble. 

“Kit, hey, so sorry about this.” Matt said as he approached her, barely coming to a stop after his brisk walk down the pitlane. Kit was surprised he didn’t leave skid marks. 

“No worries, you do what you gotta do.” Kit replied, trying not to show her teeth chattering together. 

“We’ve set up one of the garages for you and Max to wait in while we finish sorting everything out, it’s bloody Radhika and her bloody, what is it that she has?” Matt asked absentmindedly. 

“Glange?” Kit asked with a small smile on her face. Matt’s London accent made him seem like a pissed off commuter, angry at someone for jumping onto the tracks and disrupting the Underground. 

“Fuck, that was bad of me to say, poor thing. It’s also the fucking traffic and, whatever, not important. Anyway, about four garages down is a few chairs and some tea and stuff, it’s not much cos we really didn’t think anyone would have to be sitting around.” Matt continued. 

“Matt, it’s great, thanks.” Kit said, putting a comforting arm on his elbow before walking down to the garage in question. He had nearly oversold the set up. Two mismatched collapsable chairs had been scrounged up and placed in an otherwise empty garage. A portable kettle had been plugged into the wall alongside two (only two) polystyrene cups with some tea and a sorry handful of packaged biscuits. Someone had also retrieved Kit’s bag from whoever she’d been able to hand it off to when she first arrived, and she saw a backpack sitting on one of the chairs that she assumed was Max’s.

She felt a wave of nausea, having not seen or heard from her teammate in two full months, remembering her discussion of their reunion with Ceci.  

“Oh God.” Kit groaned from one end of her parents’ couch. 

“What?” Ceci asked from the other. 

“I just got sent my pre-season schedule, fucking kill me now.”

“Ooh, I wanna see.” Ceci didn’t wait for an invitation as she took Kit’s phone and began to read. Kit didn’t mind, reclining back on the couch until the other girl was done. “Now this looks like a hoot.”

“Yeah, don’t have to tell me twice.” Kit said as she accepted her phone back. 

“Excited to see Max?” Ceci asked, a suggestive tone in her voice. 

“Yes, because I’ve decided that we’re friends, and friends get excited to see friends.” Kit said calmly. 

“You’re not nervous? Not even a little bit?” Ceci pestered. She slid her feet under Kit’s bum and began to wiggle her toes, eliciting a giggle from her. 

“I wouldn’t say nervous. I mean, it could be awkward, but we’ll get over that.” Kit nodded to herself. 

“So you’re just gonna wing it?” Ceci asked.

“Wing what? Talking to him isn’t an elite sport, I don’t need to train.” Kit said.

“Okay, sure. I’ll be Max then.” Ceci shuffled her body so that she was sitting cross-legged, facing Kit expectantly. 

“This is fucking stupid, I don’t need to practice.” Kit said, but was met with nothing but a blank stare from Ceci. “Okay, okay fine. Hey.” 

“Hey.” Ceci replied, attempting a Dutch accent but just sounding a bit constipated. 

“Uhh,” Kit laughed self-consciously, “how was your break?”

“Good.” Ceci grunted, trying not to let her smile shine through.

“He’s gonna say more than that.” Kit smiled.

“Who is ‘he’?” Ceci said as she remained in character of what she thought Max was like. 

“Cece, come on.” Kit said. 

“Cece? I’m Max.” Ceci continued.

Kit rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Okay, okay, fine. But that was pathetic.” Ceci laughed. 

“What else are we supposed to talk about?” Kit asked defensively. 

“Hmm, good point. You’ll just have to be awkward then.” 

“You’re no help to me.” Kit sighed, but couldn’t keep the smile off her face. 

Luckily Max wasn’t actually in the garage yet, because she wasn’t in any mood to relive that interaction with the man himself. Kit sat down in the unclaimed chair and pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to hug all the warmth in as close to her as possible. She reached back to lift up first the hood of the hoodie and then the hood of the large RedBull coat and sunk her head back into it, her loose hair coming to tickle her cheeks, but she was grateful for the little extra bit of warmth. The concrete of the half-room made it almost seem colder, and she couldn’t help but sit and let her teeth chatter, ears muffled by all the layers. 

Unable to hear anything except for distance movement, Kit was unwarned by the other presence in the garage until a pair of legs entered her gaze, which was pointed at the floor. 

“Oh, it’s you, I couldn’t tell under the uh,” Max gestured to her layers as she sat down opposite her, looking fairly comfortable in his hoodie and coat, not even zipped up. Kit removed her two hoods but left her beanie, and the sides of her face complained at the loss of warmth. 

“Who else would it be?” Kit tried to smile but couldn’t expose her teeth as they were chattering too violently. 

“I don’t know, a little RedBull goblin maybe.” Max laughed to himself. Kit scoffed and let her feet plant themselves back on the ground.

“Sorry it’s so fucking cold. Are you not freezing?” Kit asked. 

“I mean it’s cold, freezing’s a bit much. It was colder over Christmas.” Max replied. 

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Kit wanted to distract herself from her rapidly numbing hands. 

Max seemed to hesitate replying, thinking carefully about his next words. “It wasn’t too bad. I don’t think I was a very good boy so Santa wasn’t too happy with me.” He smiled. 

“Is that so? Was there a lump of coal waiting for you on Christmas morning?” Kit laughed. 

“Something like that.” Max said vaguely. “What about your Christmas in July?” 

“It was boiling. Let me show you the sky on Christmas eve.” Kit said, pulling out her phone from her bag to find the photo of the smoky sky, sun orange in its dwindling hours. 

“Fuck, that looks like something out of Star Wars.” Max said as he leant forward to look at her phone. 

“I know right.” The room fell silent, soundtracked by the noise of the stressed marketing team. 

“Do you-”

“How about-”

They both began at the same time, and Kit couldn’t help but smile at their awkwardness. They’d been teammates for 7 months and they were acting like it was their first day together. 

“You first.” Max said. 

“Do you know what we’re actually doing today? I know we’re ‘filming’ but, I don’t know what.” Kit said sheepishly. Her question was probably not worth all the attention Max was now giving her. 

“I think we’re just driving, I don’t know, might have to pose on the car or something.” Max replied with a shrug. 

“I’m frothing at the mouth.” Kit said sarcastically. 

Max grinned. “You’re what?”

“Frothing at the mouth. Like, super excited.” Kit did a little wiggle in her chair to demonstrate her ‘excitement’. 

“I think I’m too scared to use that one.” Max said. 

“Anyway, what were you gonna say?” Kit asked. 

“Oh, uh,” Max reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “We could sit behind that thing and it might be a bit warmer.” He pointed to a jutting out brick wall, behind which there was a small corner that did seem mildly more weather protected than where they were sitting in the middle. 

“Oo, yes, good idea.” Kit said and picked up her chair to quickly move to the new location. Max followed suit, their chairs now at 90° angles to each other and facing in. If Kit decided she didn’t want to sit with her knees up to her chest again, their legs would be touching. Max took advantage of the space in front of him, stretching out his legs to cross them at the ankles and crossing his arms over his chest as well. He seemed to be settling in for a long wait, and being the more experienced of the two (as much as Kit hated to admit it), he was probably expecting a long wait. The cold breeze was gone now though, and Kit did enjoy its absence from her cheeks.

“Better?” Max asked.

“Mm, better.” Kit smiled but still buried her nose into the front of her coat.

“You look like an Arctic explorer or something.” Max said. 

“I’m not acclimatised to this weather. My warm blood can’t take it.” Kit’s voice was muffled through her jacket. 

“Aren’t all humans warm blooded?” Max grinned. 

“Touché. I’m sure it’s a spectrum.” 

“And you’re saying that I have cold blood?” Max continued. 

“Mm, it’s getting warmer by the second.” Kit mused, smiling underneath the fabric of her jacket as she noticed Max’s ears go red. They didn’t say anything more, but it didn’t feel as awkward as before. There was an understanding between them that they would be there for a while and both would rather do their own thing on their phones than force conversation. But the silence was almost comforting now. Kit felt like she was in her own little corner of the world, the stressed noises of everyone else not affecting her serenity. 

Not being a gymnast or anything even remotely similar, she wasn’t able to keep her legs tucked fully up to her chest for very long. They began to slide forward fractionally until the tips of her shoes rested on the edge of Max’s chair, stopped in their journey by the side of his thigh. Neither of them said anything, but Kit could tell from the way Max's fingers paused momentarily over his phone that he had noticed. But, if he wasn’t bringing it up then neither would she. She’d tried to discuss this unspoken no-man’s land between them at the end of the last season and had been swiftly shut down, so she was willing to accept defeat and just follow his lead. Plus, his body heat seemed to be warming her up from the proximity, and she would do anything to get feeling back into her limbs. 

“Have you seen Max or Kit?” The pair of drivers whipped their heads up from their phones at the sound of their names being called by Cath. Max poked his head around the corner of the enclave and gave the woman, who Kit couldn’t see, a small wave. His other hand stayed holding his phone and unknowingly tilted it towards Kit, exposing the Subway Surfers’ game over screen. She just tilted her face further down in her jacket and smiled. 

“Oh you’re both here, great.” Cath said, her surprise and relief mitigated by her ever-present stress. “So it’s been a hectic morning, as you can tell, I won’t bore you with details but basically we won’t be ready to shoot for another hour, which I know, it’s shitty, no one’s fault, I mean it definitely is someone’s fault but I won’t name and shame.” Kit could practically see grey hairs sprouting out of the older woman’s head. She checked her phone and 40 minutes had passed since her and Max sat in their little corner. It was going to be a long day. 

“Um, both of you will need to be in your racing gear for all the shots, I’ll find someone to show you where you can get changed. Other than that though, there isn’t a whole lot for either of you to do. Uhh, hang on, Jenny!” Cath called. Kit and Max just looked at each other in amusement, both somewhat happy to be given an hour to sit around and do nothing. It was fairly uncommon for them. 

“Yeah?” A young voice out of sight from Kit and Max yelled back.

“Can you take Max and Kit to change into their stuff?” Cath asked.

“Yeah sure.” A young perky looking girl that Kit had seen around the factory offices a few times appeared, cheeks flushed sweetly from the cold air. 

“Great, great, um, maybe also you can come and get them when it’s time to shoot, yeah that works, is that okay?” Cath said, half talking to herself and half to Jenny. 

“Sure, no worries.” The girl replied. Max stood up from the chair and waited for Kit to follow suit before following the PR girl. 

They walked out the back of the garage and towards a car park, populated with mostly personal cars and only a handful of trucks. The smallest one had been backed in with open doors, full of everything that could possibly be needed for promotional filming. All their old helmets, race shoes, caps, shirts, and boxes of other miscellaneous items. But, most importantly, two sets of race suits each, with the fireproofs to match. Kit never thought she’d crave the sensation of the tight material against her skin, and yet it seemed a luxurious alternative to her loose clothes, arms crossed tight over her chest to hug the layers closer. 

Jenny hoisted herself up into the back of the truck and Kit didn’t miss the way Max’s eyes lingered on her backside. Well, he was only a man. She didn’t know why the sight of his reaction made her stomach clench unpleasantly, not really expecting any better of him. 

“Here you go, I assume you both know where the bathrooms are?” Kit accepted the clothes but looked at Max to confirm that he didn’t know where the toilets were either. From the lost look on his face, she was correct. 

“Uh, not really. Usually there’s a motorhome here, you know.” Kit smiled at the girl, trying not to sound overly demanding. 

“Oh right, of course. They’re just down there and to the left. Cath’s calling me so I should probably go, will you two be alright?” It took half a nod between the pair of them for the girl to run off. Kit felt a wave of guilt, not having anything to do while everyone else was running around like headless chickens. 

“Did you see where she pointed?” Max asked once she was out of earshot.

“No, I thought you would be looking.” Kit said, both of them smiling at the situation. 

“Oh well, we do have a whole hour so…” Max trailed off as they began walking in the direction she potentially pointed. 

“What could possibly be making them run so behind?” Kit thought out loud. 

“So many things, are you joking? Last year, me and Pierre got here at 7 as well and neither of us got in the car until 12.” Max replied. 

“You’re kidding.” Kit deadpanned. “I would’ve brought a book or something, Jesus.” 

“You can tell they’re running seriously behind schedule because the engineers and Christian aren’t here yet either, because they always get the inside scoop on when things are actually going to start.” Max elaborated. They reached the end of the back of the garages and Max, despite also not looking as Jenny gave them directions, confidently turned left. Kit was fairly content to follow, her brain short circuiting in the cold. 

“So why are they having us put on our gear now?” Kit questioned. 

“Well based on last year, after an hour everyone else will be here and they’ll actually be ready to start setting up the cars for us to drive, but that will take forever as well, so they’ll film us walking and talking and doing all this random shit, and they probably won’t use any of it anyway, or they’ll just store away the footage for promo-ing other stuff.” Max explained. Kit was almost annoyed at him for being correct about the location of the bathrooms when they arrived outside the male-female signs. 

“I’ll take my time then.” Kit said as they departed into their separate bathrooms. The air felt like an ice cube as Kit peeled off each layer. Her exposed skin could have been submerged in snow for how cold it was, and goosebumps spread over her legs in a split second. Contrary to her earlier hypothesis, the race suit and fireproofs were freezing after sitting in an uninsulated truck for hours, not nearly as warm as her numerous shirts and jackets. She left the top half unzipped and piled on her jackets once more, also replacing the beanie on her head. Even if her legs were cold, it was better than nothing. 

“I could nearly hear your teeth chattering through the walls.” Max joked as Kit exited the bathroom. 

“Shut up.” Kit stuttered out, trying not to release body heat through air escaping her mouth. 

“How are you so cold? Aren’t you wearing like 5 layers?” Max asked incredulously as he strolled beside her, not a care in the world. 

“4, actually.” Kit replied, turning her head from side to side to try and get some frictional heat out of the neck of her coat as it rubbed against her cheeks. 

“Here, this should help.” Max said as he moved over to stand behind her. Kit kept walking, not knowing where he was going with this, until the feeling of his hands on her upper arms made her stop. “Keep going, you’re not going to warm up standing still.” He scolded, audibly a lot closer to her ears. 

Kit continued walking, occasionally feeling the tap of Max’s foot on her heel as he followed behind. His hands rubbed up and down her arms, allowing the layers of fabric to shift against each other. Kit hated to admit it, but she actually did feel a lot warmer. Especially on her face. As they re-entered the garage, Kit felt the absence of Max’s hands and with them the lack of heat. 

“Hey, why’d you stop?” She asked, turning around to face him. 

“Am I your slave or something?” He replied, but resumed his earlier movements, bringing heat back to her arms. 

“Yes, and thank you.” Kit smiled, enjoying the warmth that was entering her body. 

“Well, well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes.” Both of their heads turned towards the sound of Christian’s voice as he meandered across the pit lane. While Max’s hands stopped moving once again, they came to rest just above her elbow with a slight grip. Kit tried to stop herself enjoying the sensation. “I suppose you’ve been told about the delays?” Christian asked. Kit nodded and she was sure Max was mirroring her, although she couldn’t tell from where he stood behind her. 

“Well basically, we’ve only got one car, because this fuckhead on the A5 decided to brake check during commuter traffic. Anyway, it’s going to take another three hours to get the other car here which honestly, it’s just not worth it given they’re the exact same. So within the hour you, Max, should be out on the track, and then hopefully we can all be home before sunset. Sound good?” Kit’s heart sank. The season had barely started and Max was already being preferenced over her. 

“Why does Max get the drive?” Kit asked. She felt the man’s grip loosen on her arms slightly, but he didn’t pipe up. 

“Oh, I don’t know, it was just a random choice. Do you want to flip a coin for it or something?” Christian asked with a condescending laugh in his words, as if to make Kit seem irrationally angry in her questioning the choice. Kit wouldn’t let herself be that easily manipulated into submission, but she also knew that this was just the first battle in a long, long war, so she just shrugged her shoulders non-committedly and didn’t reply. That seemed to signal to Max that she wanted his hands off her, and even though she missed the warmth they provided she was also now struggling to contain her cold shoulder towards him. He hadn’t done anything wrong (yet), and they’d gotten off to such a good start. 

“Right then, the guys are getting set up a few garages down if you wanna come and get prepped.” Christian said before departing. Kit internalised an annoyed groan but the puff of air she released from her nose was still audible. 

“You can drive if you want, I don’t really care.” Max said from behind her. Kit spun around to look at him and tried not to communicate the irritation on her face. If she was annoyed at him, he would be annoyed at her, and the downward spiral would just pick up from where it left off. No, she was going to make a conscious effort to not take the injustice out on him. 

“It’s fine, the cold’s just putting me in a shitty mood, and now I won’t get a drive to warm me up.” Kit tried to smile, but also used the neck of her coat to her advantage to cover the grimace it morphed into. At least the headphones in the garage would keep her ears warm. Plus, she would get the test drive in a week, that was all that mattered. Unless the brake checker decided to go on a murderous spree and somehow damage all the parts of the other car beyond timely replacement, they couldn’t keep her off the track forever. Even if, based on the all engineers’ ignorance of her presence except for Hugh, she was going to be second priority all season. 

Kit must’ve spent much longer getting changed than she thought (not surprising given the agonising process that was revealing her bare legs to the winter air), because contrary to Max’s earlier assertions, the mechanics had gotten the car ready and the engineers had gotten themselves set up so fast that Max was in the car and out onto the track before Kit had even put her headphones on. She was too busy chatting to Hugh about his holidays, him being the only person in the room to not want to talk about Max or the car.

“What did you get your kids?” Kit asked. 

“My wife got Lola this Barbie horse set, you know with a few horses and saddles and all the brushes and things, and then I got Ben a remote controlled F1 car. But their big, joint present was going to the Harry Potter studios.” Hugh said with a smile as he thought about his children. 

“You’re already grooming your children to follow in your footsteps.” Kit laughed. 

“Better than grooming them to have cavities. Your little package was consumed very quickly, by the way.” Hugh said in a faux-scolding tone. Kit had mailed over a small box of junk food as soon as she landed in Australia, mainly because her mum had asked about Hugh and Kit immediately felt guilty for not getting him a Christmas present. 

“What was your favourite?” Kit asked, ignoring his disapproval. 

“Oh the Tim Tams, no competition. But I’ve had them before so it didn’t really count.” Hugh said without hesitation. 

“Not a fan of the vegemite and cheese shapes?” Kit grinned. 

“Honestly, they weren’t bad. But Ben bloody devoured them before I could have too many.” 

“A boy after my own heart.” Kit said, but was brought back to reality by a loud rev as Max took off out of the garage. She smiled at Hugh before putting the headphones on over her beanie, choosing to stay in the loop of the car over her pride. She knew that it was mostly for the promo video, nothing more than occasional comments about the car being made by GP or Max, but she still didn’t want to miss out on anything in case it would put her even further behind in testing. There was a small monitor displaying four different angles, each feeding live from a different overhead camera. Kit felt that same surge of rage as she watched Max follow the racing line to near perfection, the lack of other cars on the track aiding his clean run. 

That continued for about 20 minutes, Kit standing in enraged silence as she heard Max’s driving garner more and more admiration from the pit lane. She knew she could drive just as well as he was driving, and her fists balled tightly in her pockets to try and release some of her anger at the disparity between them. Finally GP said over the radio, “Right Max, they’ve got what they need.” and Kit watched as the car came back into the pits. She removed her headphones and set them down on the table in front of her, slightly missing the insulation over her ears. Hugh followed suit, clearly eager to discuss something with her. 

“Don’t, you know, go spreading this around or anything,” he began in a low voice, leaning down to be closer to her ear, “but last year something similar happened with the cars when we were doing this promo thing, well, Pierre’s car was here but it needed some major tlc. Anyway, everyone had to wait three hours for us to figure out what was wrong and for the mechanics to get Pierre’s car up and running to get on with the day. It was fucking annoying but at the end of the day it was fair. Now, I don’t know if Christian has somewhere to be, or no one wants a repeat of last year or what. But I’m just saying that a big deal was made about equal track time between them to explain the wait, even with Max as the obvious number one back then.” Hugh concluded, standing up straight again as if he hadn’t just sparked a two-person conspiracy between them. Kit didn’t reply but just gave him a sad smile and a pat on the back in acknowledgement of their situation. 

She wasn’t blind to the occasionally unjustified team orders of the previous season, or the obvious preferential treatment of Max in the race strategy, Kit wasn’t an idiot. But part of her, a dead, crushed part of her now, had hoped that she’d proved her worth, that this season would be different. She wasn’t naive enough to think that Max would cease to be the clear number one, but she had enough optimism to think that she would at least be considered as a championship contender by the team, even if she would never be their top priority. And from Max’s praise of the car’s speed, it could definitely be a championship winning car. But based on this morning, she wouldn’t be the one driving it to that number one slot, not if the team had anything to say about it. 

“Kit, we need you for some solo shots while Max gets ready for the team shots.” Cath demanded somewhere from her left, but Kit was fixated on Max as he got out of the car and removed his helmet. He was grinning, full on, holy-shit-that’s-a-fast-car grinning. It didn’t help that his hair was messy and the helmet had left its imprints on his face and he looked exactly the same way he did in Abu-

That’s quite enough, Kit thought to herself. The separate neural pathways in her brain that were in charge of anger and attraction towards Max (although admitting she had any of the latter made a non-temperature related chill run down her spine) must have gotten intertwined somehow after Abu Dhabi, causing one to trigger the other. Why else would she be standing here transfixed in rage?

“Kit?” She snapped out of her thought process and looked towards Cath, smiling as if she’d innocently zoned out from fatigue. 

“Coming.” Kit replied with a compensatory amount of nonchalance. She wasn’t a model by any means, and the fact that she had to remove her outer layers made it even more difficult for her to concentrate on looking cool and attractive, both in stills and video. The closest she came to the editorial experience was the lavish feeling of having someone do her hair, even if it was just Cath splitting it into two simple plaits. Luckily the main focus appeared to be on the team shots, as she was quickly joined by Max who no longer looked like he’d just stepped out of the car. 

“Alright, first shot, I just want you two to walk all the way up to the last garage so that we can get the shot of you walking back. And hold your helmets in your hands through the eye bit, yep, just like that.” The videographer instructed as the two drivers stood in front of him awkwardly. 

“Alright, get a wriggle on then, we don’t have all day.” Kit and Max began to walk down the pit lane, unsure of whether or not they were still being filmed. Kit said nothing, not trusting herself to be able to say something civil now that she was both angry at the team for giving Max a drive and not her, and at herself for thinking about Max in a way that friends don’t think about each other, even if it was just in a moment of weakness. 

“I can tell you’re mad.” Max said while their backs were still turned. He’d lost the kind fluffiness in his voice from before that Kit didn’t even realise was there until now, where the edge in his observation cut straight to the angry pit in her stomach. She inhaled through her nose and forced herself not to do what she would’ve done last season: insult him sarcastically and spark an argument. 

“I’m not mad at you.” She replied, her honesty surprising herself, not knowing what she was going to say until it was out of her mouth.

“Who are you mad at then?” Max asked. The edge had dulled slightly, but not enough to make him sound sympathetic to her cause. 

“The team, for giving you the drive.” She continued. 

“They didn’t ‘give’ me the drive.” Max said, only one hand being able to do the air quotes as the other was weighed down by his helmet. They were nearly at the end of the pit lane which meant that they would be turning around soon and Kit would have to repress the scowl that was growing on her face. “They just randomly picked one of us.”

“What, so all of a sudden we’re in such a rush to do everything? No time for my car to get here, no time to even give me a drive in yours, when apparently you waited around for three hours last time so that you and Pierre both got a drive.” Kit didn’t let a scathing, hysterical tone enter her voice, hoping she came across as calmly irritated rather than furiously petty. 

“That was different, Pierre needed all the time in the car he could get, he’d never driven a RedBull, you have. And you’re a lot better at it than he was.” Max replied. Kit hated that the logic made sense to her, that she felt the crease between her brows soften. 

“Still, I just, fuck. I don’t want you to get preferential treatment over me Max, I don’t want this to be the start of the end.” Kit released in one breath. 

“I don’t need preferential treatment.” Was all Max replied with before they fell into silence. Despite the wind still biting at her cheeks, Kit didn’t feel cold anymore.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for Kit to fall back into the bustling rhythm of the paddock in Barcelona. At first she was taken aback by the sudden rush of people taking photos and asking for autographs and interviews, but after a short period it all became familiar to her once again and she was grinning her usual grin. It helped that she was also excited to see Daniel and Charles, who she hadn’t spoken to for two months except for short ‘Merry Christmas’s and brief conversations about where they were or what they were doing. 

“Hey pretty lady, how are you?” Kit heard from behind her as she stopped to sign a fan’s hat. Daniel’s accent was distinct from the Spanish chatter around her, and she was already smiling wide before she turned to look at him. 

“I’m great, it’s good to see you.” Kit said and she was engulfed in a hug from the slightly taller man. He leant back so that her feet lifted off the floor, and a surge of noise erupted from the crowd of fans, a few whistling and hollering. 

“Next holidays you’ve gotta come with us, even just for a little bit.” Daniel demanded as he lowered her back to the ground. 

“Mm, I couldn’t think of anything better.” Kit said sarcastically, remembering that Max had gone on their little road trip too. 

“Hey, rumour has it you two have been getting along recently.” Daniel replied as he began signing Renault merch thrust at him by adoring fans. 

“That rumour lacks detail.” Kit smiled. 

Daniel tipped his head back in a laugh. “I’m sure I’ll find out what that means soon.”

“Hmm,” Kit hummed jokingly, “If you’re lucky.” 

They had made their way down the entry walk and so were released from their positions against the barrier and could actually enter the paddock. 

“How’s the car anyway? Championship this year?” Daniel asked cheerfully. 

“I don’t know, I haven’t driven it yet.” Kit said, trying to keep the bitter tone out of her voice. 

“You haven’t? That’s not really Christian’s style.” Daniel replied. 

“Neither is favouritism.” Kit said sarcastically, giving Daniel a knowing glance. 

“You know what, you can beat him anyway.” Daniel said in a softer voice, his hand coming to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze. 

“You reckon?” Kit smiled. 

“Hey, I’ve been in your shoes. You’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, because it worked out so well for you.” Daniel’s smile faltered slightly and Kit instantly regretted her words. She forgot that she was angry at RedBull, not at the world. “Dan, shit, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Nah, you’re right. You’re still young, you’ve got more fight left in you.” Daniel said, his hand turning into a full arm around her shoulders, giving her a bit of a shake. 

“Too much, some might say.” She replied, wrapping both her arms around Daniel’s middle. It made it slightly awkward to walk, but she needed to communicate her appreciation of his encouragement. 

“If ‘some’ is Max and Christian, it’s not too much.” Daniel said, and they both laughed at his words. 

“Hey, speaking of teams,” Kit began as she stood upright again, both unwinding their arms. 

“You’re going to McLaren?” She asked with a tone of surprise. 

“Yeah.” Daniel said, uncharacteristically lost for words. 

“Why?” Kit asked, genuinely not understanding the man’s logic. 

“I just, I mean everything’s changing for both teams. I reckon McLaren’s just…gonna be better for me.” Daniel said cryptically. 

“Are you getting a big cheque?” Kit asked softly, yelping dramatically as he pinched her side. 

“No.” Daniel said, but tapped the side of his nose with his index finger anyway, causing Kit to laugh loudly. They’d arrived outside the RedBull motorhome, and Kit was disappointed to have to cut off their conversation. 

“I’ll see you later?” Kit said with a questioning tone to her voice. 

“Of course.” Daniel smiled and waved farewell to her as she entered the building. Everyone seemed to be humming with excitement as Kit made her way to her driver room to deposit her things and mentally prepare herself for the team’s morning meeting. She ran her hands over her face, pressing her fingers into her closed eyes and let out a deep sigh. She was trying to convince herself that the meeting would be fine, that there wasn’t anything to worry about, but the pit of dread in her stomach said otherwise. She couldn’t help the apprehension in her body language as she left her room and gingerly pushed open the meeting room door. 

“Hey Kit.” GP said from where he sat in front of a monitor, talking in a hushed voice with Max who sat beside them. 

“Hey.” Kit replied as she sat down opposite him. They didn’t return to their conspiring, and thankfully the rest of the team entered soon after so that Kit didn’t have to endure the awkward silence that was sure to follow. And yet, she wanted to know what they were talking about. She respected GP, so she rationally didn’t believe that they would be trying to hide anything from her to gain an advantage, and yet that sick feeling in her stomach intensified. 

It was all business as usual, leaving Kit excited to get into the car but also embarrassed at herself for believing the worst of the team. Of course they weren’t going to be sabotaging her, this wasn’t some soap opera. Hugh seemed incredibly optimistic and so did all of the analysts that usually worked on her side of the wall as they gave an overview of all the sims they’d been running. The car was gonna be fast, that much was obvious. Both her and Max had uncontainable smiles as they left the room, although Max’s was obviously wider given his previous acquaintance with the car. 

“You two, can you get into your gear with your helmets and get to the track as quickly as possible? There’s some press for all the drivers and we’re already late.” Cath practically ambushed the pair, barely out of the engineering room. In fact, Max stopped walking so suddenly that Kit ran into his back, hands flying out of instinct to protect herself and instead just landing on his back. She pulled them away like his skin was made of fire and tried to suppress her blush as she obediently walked to get changed. 

“Wait for me if you’re done first, I wanna talk to you about something.” Max said cryptically before closing his room’s door behind him. Kit’s stomach dropped at the phrase, not even letting herself explore each possibility in her mind as she knew it would be explained to her soon. She’d never pulled on her fireproofs and race suit so fast. She even stepped out of her room while still plaiting her hair, not wanting to delay whatever Max was going to tell her. 

“Well?” Kit asked upon seeing Max leaning against the opposite wall on her exit. She was internally slightly annoyed at being slower than him. 

“Someone’s eager.” He smiled smugly. 

“You left me hanging.” Kit said with a touch more softness than her previous monosyllabic question. She reached out a foot to gently push Max on the leg as she finished her second plait, urging him to tell her what was on his mind. 

“I just wanted to tell you about the car, you know, driver to driver.” Max stated as they began to head towards the motorhome’s exit. Kit detested the fact that he was in a position to give her advice, but for the sake of getting everything possible out of the test, she swallowed her pride and nodded stiffly. 

“It’s super grippy in the corners, but doesn’t have a lot of front end force so you’ve gotta really stay in control when you go to hit the apex cos the car kind of wiggles around a bit.” Kit was listening attentively, staring at Max’s hands as he attempted to give a visual to accompany his verbal explanation. The way he talked about the car and the way his hands moved was captivating in a weird way that still ignited that competitive spirit in her, yearning to be able to discuss rather than just listen. As he continued to explain, Kit suddenly remembered what Geri had said in passing about Max’s chattiness when he was first starting out. Strangely, she now understood what the older woman had been talking about. She could perfectly picture Max, five years younger, suppressing a smile out of desire to look more mature as he spouted the exact same words that he was right now. 

“But the plus side is that you can break a little bit earlier, if no one’s behind you, and still maintain good speed out of the corner.” Max concluded, lowering his hands back to his sides. They had walked all the way to the track, milling around with the other drivers that were waiting to be given instructions. 

“Sounds like it suits you.” Kit said, trying to hide the jealousy in her voice. 

“It does.” Max replied confidently, either not noticing or not caring that she was annoyed. 

“You reckon it’ll suit me?” She asked with a sarcastic smile. 

“Even if it doesn’t, I don’t think you’ll let that stop you.” Max answered. Kit tried to not let her expression morph into one of genuine happiness, but she didn’t think she’d succeeded based on how Max grinned and then looked away to start talking to Lando. 

“Okay, everybody.” A voice said over a megaphone, causing the heads of all 20 drivers to turn towards the source of the noise. “Please stand along the white line that you can see there, next to your teammate.” The group of them flocked towards a thick white line, some zipping up their suits as they walked, others retrieving caps from staff members. 

“Hey.” Charles nudged Kit’s elbow, the latter not even realising that they were standing side by side. 

“Oh, salut mon ami.” Kit replied in a terrible French accent. “Good holiday?” 

“So good, although I spent a week thinking I’d gotten my girlfriend pregnant. False alarm, don’t worry.” Charles said in a lowered voice, and Kit let out a loud laugh at his seemingly nonchalant tone. A few heads turned towards her, including Max’s, and she tried her best not to care. 

“Nice one Charlie.” Kit replied, turning back to the front for the cameras. 

“Didn’t know Charles was a comedian.” Max muttered from beside her. It was so quiet that there was no way Charles could’ve heard, and Kit realised that he wasn’t talking to her at all but had leant over to make the comment to Daniel instead. Her compatriot chose not to voice his opinion as loudly as Max, but whatever he whispered in Max’s ear made the latter roll his eyes and huff out a laugh. 

“Helmets in the left hand, yep, perfect. No, actually, hold them in front with both hands. Yep. Now pose however you want, you don’t have to smile.” Despite being told this in every official photo shoot ever, Kit never held a flat expression. She just had to smile in photos, it was unnatural to look so serious. They were shuffled through various formations and poses before being released to go do what they’d been waiting to do all day: drive. 

Kit could feel her heart begin to beat louder in her chest from excitement. Finally she was going to get to drive this bloody supposed championship winning car. She was practically running the walk to the garage, Max lagging behind her as he continued talking to Daniel. Her want to know what they had been talking about previously was trumped by her itching to get in the car. Hugh was already set up in front of his monitor, hopefully a positive indication that she would be the first one out. 

“Kit, let’s get you in this car mate.” Christian said happily as she entered the garage, giving her a clap on the shoulder. 

“Oh, please.” She grinned in return. 

Hugh spun around on his chair at the sound of her voice. “Session starts in…15 minutes, so just have a drink of water and you’ll be out there in no time.” Kit nodded to the man and went to go stand in the back of the garage where her helmet, gloves and water bottle were. It was right on the gap between her side of the garage and Max’s, so it was no surprise that they were once again in close proximity. 

“Excited?” Max asked. 

“Can you tell?” Kit replied with a tone of panic in her voice. Obviously the answer was yes, but she didn’t want everyone to know that. 

“Not that much.” Max smiled. He laughed when she brought her hands up to rub over her face. “It’s not a bad thing!”

“Then why did you sound so…Max when you asked?” Kit replied, staring up at him unamusedly. 

“I sounded ‘Max’? Don’t I always sound like that?” Max said, taking a small sip from his bright blue water bottle straw. 

“No, you have moments of concentrated Max-ness.” Kit’s hands came up to illustrate her point, but instead of showing ‘concentrated’ she showed something more like ‘throttle.’

“Hmm, I’ll have to pay better attention. You have moments of Kit-ness too though.” He said. 

“Give me an example.” Kit replied. 

“I wasn’t looking, but you definitely smiled in that photo.” Max answered definitively, and Kit just smiled in response, unable to admit that he was right. “Ha, so you did.” 

“Fuck off, what’s wrong with smiling anyway?” Kit said jokingly. 

Max squared his shoulders before replying. “You want to have the stare down, like a boxer.” 

“Oh yeah, I’m built like such a boxer.” The pair began to laugh, drawing the attention of a few heads in the garage. 

“You don’t have to be, that’s why it’s in the stare.” Max continued. Kit was about to stand up straight and square her shoulders as he had done before when she paused, noticing that the TV coverage displayed on the screen behind Max’s head was filming them chatting in the garage. 

“Look at that, we’re on the telly.” Kit said, pointing her finger next to Max’s head at themselves. The delay meant that Max turned his head in time to watch Kit’s mouth move in realisation and then point, his head-turn following shortly after. 

“That’s so weird.” He said, and the pair began to laugh once again at the sight of his mouth moving on the screen, mouthing the silent words he’d just said in real life. Kit just wished she could hear whatever commentary was running at that moment. It wasn’t often that she had a desire to know what the press thought of her, but at this point in time it would probably be something positive for once. 

“Kit, session starts in 5 minutes, you wanna get prepped? We’re gonna try and squeeze every lap out of this first run.” Hugh semi-yelled to get her attention. He’d lifted off one of his headphones to make his announcement, shifting the whole headset to be lopsided and making him look like Lewis in that one press conference. Kit stifled a laugh, knowing that it was game time now. 

“Good luck.” Max said, and she shot him a grin before turning back to her things. The radio earbuds were in, balaclava and helmet on her head, and she was so ready to go. The tightness of the cockpit would’ve felt claustrophobic to anyone normal, but Kit just felt safe, like she was in her element. Soon, the head mechanic was waving her forward and out into the pit lane and she was driving. She was finally in this fucking car. She knew it was just the placebo effect, but it already felt amazing under her. 

The pit lane could’ve been 10 miles long for how slow Kit seemed to arrive at the exit, but then she passed the white line and could accelerate into turn 1. Max was right, she definitely had to concentrate on not losing the car into the corner, but she found that her speed out of it and around the next, faster corner was a definite improvement on the year before. And even with fresh, unwarmed tyres and her taking it relatively easy for the first few laps, the car had beautiful grip and still wasn’t bad down the straights. Laps just seemed to tick by, Kit having far too much fun in what was the fastest car she’d ever driven by a considerable and inarguable margin. Sure, she had a full load of fuel and hard tyres, but even with those setbacks she was flying. 

“Radio check Kit.” Hugh’s voice crackled through the radio. 

“I can hear you loud and clear.” Kit replied. 

“Don’t have too much fun out there, Max still needs to have his turn.” Hugh continued, although she could hear his mildly joking tone peeking through. 

“I’m only human Hugh.” Kit said with a broad smile on her face. The man didn’t reply, but she could envision his serious yet playful smile poking at the corners of his mouth. 

Eventually she was brought in to make some minor adjustments on her car and to let Max have a run, which she ended up being grateful for as she exited the car and realised that she could do with a short break. No amount of training over the winter could compare to being in the actual car.  The first four hour session ended before she could get back in the car, and she was slightly miffed to see that Max’s fastest lap time under the same conditions was just under a tenth faster than hers. She would get him back. 

Or so she thought. After returning from their break, she was informed by Hugh that they had decided to make some larger electrical adjustments for tomorrow, but that if they didn’t begin now it wouldn’t be done in time. Kit didn’t complain, aware that some of her recharge laps hadn’t fully gotten her up to the previous pace, but was still cursing the universe at her luck. She instead took her place in front of a slew of monitors and accepted a pair of headphones to watch Max continue to blitz the timing boards. Well, him and the Mercedes. They would definitely be tough to beat for another season running, if their current laps were anything to go by. 

“Bad luck with your car, hey?” Max said sympathetically to Kit as he wiped his sweaty face down with a towel, the hours he’d just spent in the car showing in his body and Kit’s. For him, it was the usual post-race tableau, for Kit, she was slumped in a spinny chair with droopy eyes, ready for the day to be over so that she could get back in the car tomorrow. She actually wished that she knew something about the maintenance of the car so that she could provide an extra pair of hands to the mechanics who, after working tirelessly for hours, appeared to only be discovering more things that could be improved and tested on the electrical body of the car.  

“Yeah, bad luck.” Kit muttered. Just stay calm, stay cool. Even if you want to wipe the telltale signs of a growing smug smile off his face. 

“Shame you couldn’t put in a faster lap before you had to come in.” Kit turned her head to look at the man in frustration, mouth downturned in a firm frown. She couldn’t decipher whether his comment was simply observatory or trying to make a dig at her, but based on her current cabin-fever stir-craziness, she took it as the latter. 

“Shame I was already at a disadvantage.” She semi-mumbled so that the rest of the team wouldn’t hear, but Max definitely had. Surprisingly, he didn’t stab back at her. 

“Yeah, it is a bit.” He replied before turning back to his side of the garage. Was that sympathy? From Max Verstappen? She had to be having a hallucination. Even after her tone turned cold he stayed civil. Now she just felt even shittier. 

The post-testing meetings continued in a similar manner, Max not making any mention of his quicker pace or overall more impressive performance due to more track time, at least, not unprompted. The engineers and analysts from his side of the garage seemed ready to bring it up at every possible opening, which made Kit force herself to breathe through her nose and communicate her misgivings to Hugh through eye movements alone. Then finally she was freed from reliving her uneventful and unproductive day, released into the open Spanish air to head home. A gaggle of drivers was passing by the RedBull motorhome as Max and Kit made their exit, able to slot nicely at the back of the pack. 

“Here they are!” Pierre said excitedly at the sight of them, the rest of the 6ish drivers bursting into chatter. 

“When did we become so well-liked?” Max said, causing a few laughs from the other guys. The positive reception to his joke made him join in the laughter as well, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. Kit made herself refocus back onto Pierre. 

“We had a little, euh, bet, going on today.” Pierre said, now walking backwards to face the pair. 

“And we weren’t invited?” Kit asked incredulously, not sure when her and Max became a ‘we’ but not minding it. It made her feel like she was really part of the team. 

“It was about you.” Lando chimed in, and Kit exchanged a look of confusion with Max. 

“Huh?” The both grunted, eliciting more laughs from the pack. 

“We were trying to guess how long it would take for you to have an argument in public.” Charles explained. 

“And I was the only one who said you wouldn’t, so I’ll be collecting my winnings thank you very much. I take cash or card.” Daniel said in his usual joking tone, but to Kit’s surprise she did see a few hands digging around in their pockets to cough up.

“Why did you think we would have an argument in public? That’s only happened like…once?” Kit said, still questioning the certainty in her statement towards the end of it.

“You know, back at the track, tensions high.” Pierre said, wiggling his fingers teasingly. Kit rolled her eyes, and assumed Max would be doing the same. 

“We’re basically friends now.” Max said defensively. Kit had come to this conclusion herself, but it still felt odd for Max to be the one to confirm it out loud in front of the others. 

“I say that will last about 1 lap into Melbourne.” Charles said, and the rest of them continued laughing. 

“Are you betting on it?” Kit replied quickly, only adding to the hysteria. Their little mob finally made it to the car park and began to disperse, although Kit and Daniel had parked close and could continue to talk. 

“How did you know we wouldn’t argue?” Kit asked light heartedly. When she thought about it, she wouldn’t have been that confident in herself not to spark something. If Max had reciprocated to her provoking words after the second session, she was sure that whoever betted 10 hours would have won. 

“I told you I’ve been hearing rumours that you two are getting along.” He replied with a grin that revealed little more information to her. 

“You’re so dodgy.” Kit replied, receiving nothing but a wink in return. The car radio was tuned to a specific motorsport channel that she had to swiftly turn off when one of the hosts began to talk about the individual RedBulls’ paces only indicating what’s to come this season . She couldn’t wait for Melbourne where she could actually run the car to its real race limits. Okay, so maybe Charles was a little bit correct. She couldn’t see herself being so cordial to Max if today had points involved.

Chapter Text

Asphalt had never felt so good under Kit’s feet as she stepped off the plane and onto Melbourne aeroport’s runway. Partly because of the fact she was back in Australia, and partly because, after a 20 hour travel day, she was ready to crash. Except for the fact that it was 5pm and so she couldn’t fall asleep until at least 9 in fear of destroying her sleep schedule ahead of the race. She was also sick of wearing a mask, a precaution she’d been instructed to take by her team to avoid catching…Corona? Covid? She wasn’t 100% sure what it was or what it would do to her if she caught it, but the urgency in the email everyone in the travelling crew received scared her enough to wear the surgical mask. The plus side was that she didn’t get recognised once during her travels, even while receiving judgemental glances from the general public. 

Having an Australian passport, she was let through customs fairly quickly, and soon she was sat in a private car en route to the hotel. Her eyes began to close of their own accord, only shooting open when her head dropped and jolted her awake. Kit’s least favourite feeling was waking up at 3am, not a wink of sleep left in her body after falling asleep too early, so she forced herself to stay awake by looking through her phone. She hadn’t taken it out of aeroplane mode, and was inundated with notifications after she did. She didn’t realise how many texts and emails she usually received until she didn’t read any for 8 hours (obviously she had to check during her layover). Only one stood out to her though. 

Mad Max 😡 : you wanna get dinner? im about to fall asleep

Kit carefully considered her response. Yes they’d been getting along better, but did she want to push the envelope? They really only saw each other during work hours, and while they hadn’t had an explosion of 2019 proportions yet, Kit could definitely feel them beginning to grate against each other. Especially when Kit’s car was performing as well as Max’s, because that meant she could properly challenge his lap times. On the other hand, if testing was anything to go by Charles was right: the second they got out onto that tarmac they would be at each other’s throats. So, maybe she should make the most of their current unspoken truce. 

yeah sure, just room service tho? im so dead

That, and she didn’t want to be spotted out and about with Max. One of the things her sponsors in F2 had been the most concerned about going into F1 were dating rumours, and although there were a few when she was Charles’ teammate, her and Max had dispelled any suspicion that they were involved. She didn’t want to ruin that now. Her phone buzzed again. 

Mad Max 😡 : 👍 im room 104

With cinematic timing, Kit’s stomach grumbled loudly. Plane food just didn’t fill her up the way normal food did. She actually found herself looking forward to her dinner with Max, but she told herself that she was just starving. 

The lobby was ornate and sparkling, as expected, but Kit could hardly keep her eyes open to appreciate it. Checking in was difficult enough, her taking a solid 45 seconds to remove her ID from her wallet to prove that she really was who she said she was. Her body seemed to be shutting down as each part of her brain lost the will to stay awake. Her feet dragged along the ground as she pushed her suitcase in front of her, probably leaning too heavily on the handle to be safe. 

Kit forced herself not to sit down on the bed despite her malfunctioning limbs, knowing that she would never get up again. Her warm shower didn’t wake her up but instead made her even sleepier, letting out a yawn louder than she thought possible for a person to achieve. At least she got the gross aeroport feeling off of her skin. She wouldn’t be leaving the hotel so she put on some trackies, a soft t-shirt, socks and a pair of birkies. Dressed for room service and forcing herself to stay awake. She didn’t wash her hair, not wanting to deal with the cold damp sensation as it dried, so she just piled the dry locks on top of her head in a bun. 

Max’s room was only two doors down from Kit’s and yet the walk felt like an eternity. Every step she was dragging her limbs along with her, yawning more than blinking. It took all her energy to knock on his door, and when it swung open she was met with an equally tired looking Max. His under eyes were purpley grey and his hair was dishevelled. He was in a similar ensemble to her, tracksuit and an old t-shirt, and Kit began to worry that they’d be too comfortable and fall asleep. Well, only one way to find out. 

“Hey, how are you?” Max asked softly as he moved aside to let her in the door. Sunlight was still coming through the large windows, but it was more gentle and left sloping shadows across the room. 

“Starving. And knackered.” Kit replied, flopping down on his bed face first. She felt the mattress dip near her shoulder and figured that it must’ve been Max sitting down. “How about you?” She said, words coming out muffled into the mattress. 

“Same. Do you know what you want?” She heard the flapping of pages, presumably the menu. 

“Hmm, no. Let me have a look.” Her arms ached as she pushed herself up to look at the food on offer. While she was lying down, it clearly seemed to Max that her body was a lot further away than it actually was, because upon sitting up Kit’s chest was millimetres away from his back. As he was holding the menu in front of his body and as Kit could hardly muster the energy to stay upright, she leant forward to place her chin on his shoulder. She felt the muscles tense under her and immediately regretted the decision her fatigue-addled body had made, but then they relaxed again and she stopped second guessing herself. 

“I’m gonna get a chicken wrap with extra chicken and no chips.” Max said, his voice reverberating through his body and creating a buzzing sensation on Kit’s chin. 

“No chips?” Kit whined. Max turned his head to give her a disapproving look, and all of a sudden their mouths were far too close together and Kit was back in Abu Dhabi, about to jump off another precipice. In fear of what could happen she elicited a yawn from herself and moved backwards off his shoulder, arm reaching behind her in a stretch. “That sounds good, I’ll have the same.” She was now avoiding his eye contact in fear of him recognising what had just gone through her head. 

“With chips?” He asked. 

“No, no chips. I’ll be healthy like you.” Kit smiled sleepily. She resisted the urge to lie back down while he called and ordered, so she got up to grab the TV remote and find something to watch. She flicked through the channels until she landed on one broadcasting her footy team playing, smiling to herself and putting the remote down again. It was a rerun because it was a Tuesday afternoon and there wouldn’t be any games on live, but she always enjoyed watching them nonetheless. Kit settled back into the pillows at the head of the bed, still sitting up but with her back against the headboard, and knew that she was getting far too comfortable for a) being in Max’s hotel room and b) trying to ward off sleep. She heard the click of the phone back onto the receiver and felt Max’s body rotate to be in a similar position to her. 

“What is this?” Max asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“NRL, rugby.” Kit answered. 

“Turn it up, I won’t know what’s happening without the commentary.” Max said, gesturing vaguely towards the remote. Kit did as she was instructed, smiling at his attempted focus on the TV. 

“I don’t think you’ll know what’s happening anyway.” Kit replied. 

“Hey, give me a chance.” He said defensively. A few minutes passed in tired silence, the TV commentary trundling along in the background, before Max piped up again. “Okay, I’m lost.” 

Kit couldn’t do anything but laugh, and even that lacked energy. “Do you want me to explain?” 

“I think I’d rather sleep.” Max mumbled as he slid down the wooden headboard to be in a lying down position. 

“Max, you can’t, it’s not even 6.” Kit scrutinised, but looking longingly at the man whose eyes were drooping closed. She wanted to do the same so badly, but she couldn’t let herself. 

“You’re not the boss of me.” He muttered, closing his eyes all the way. He curled into a slightly more foetal position, twisting his body towards hers. 

“Yes I am. Get up.” Kit said, but to no avail. She knew that if he fell asleep it wouldn’t be long before she did too, so she scanned the room for something that might be able to wake him up. She considered turning the TV up loudly, but that would only annoy her as well. Then her eyes landed on the mini fridge. Even as she stood up from the bed she could tell he was already half asleep, as he didn’t seem to react at all to the sudden lack of weight next to him. Kit opened the fridge and smiled to herself as she grasped a crispy cold can of coke. Perfect. 

“Max, come on.” She said, giving him one more chance. But the man barely huffed out a response, so she was left with no choice. 

She had barely grazed the skin of his neck with the cold aluminium can before he shot up, eyes wide, a strong grip around her wrist. “Fuck Kit!” She always forgot that every driver, including herself, had such fast reaction times. 

“What, you’re awake now aren’t you?” She cackled. 

“Jesus fucking Christ woman.” He huffed and plopped back down. 

“Do you want me to do it again? Sit up.” Kit continued to laugh. 

“Fine, fine, I’m up. Jesus.” Max didn’t have a joking tone in his voice, but KIt had learnt to notice when he was being serious and when he wasn’t. Usually, if it didn’t involve racing or the car or any kind of competition between them on the track, he was joking. So, like right now. 

Two knocks landed sharply on the door. “Room service.” Kit put her hands behind her as if to push herself off the bed, but Max swung his legs over the side and stood up before she could. 

“I’ll get it.” He said with a wave of his hand. After a bit of muffled conversing and the sound of clinking plates, Max returned with two chicken wraps. 

“What happened to the plates?” Kit asked, amused at the way Max carried the two paper-wrapped packages like a baby in each arm. 

“I know we’re gonna fall asleep and I don’t want the fucking cart in my room all night.” Max grumbled. 

“Oh, you paid for this didn’t you? I should give you some money.” Kit said absentmindedly, but looked over at Max when she heard no response.

“You’re joking right? It was like 10 bucks.” He said, staring at her blankly. 

“So? 10 bucks that I owe you.” Kit replied before taking a huge bite out of her wrap. She was careful not to spill any of it on Max’s bed, but then realised that he had already dropped a chunk of chicken and so mustn’t have cared all that much. 

“I earn that in about five minutes while I sleep.” He mumbled through a mouth of chicken. 

“So do I.” Kit countered, poking him on the leg with her foot. 

“You can shout me next time.” He replied. Kit’s stomach churned at the idea of a next time. She enjoyed this, this easy banter between friends. It was like what she had with Daniel and Charles. But every time she got a bit too comfortable with Max, something happened and they ended up arguing or not speaking at all. For a split second she actually hoped that she would place lower than him in the race that weekend just to avoid an argument, before snapping back into her senses. She couldn’t afford to think like that, not even for a second. She would rather be better than Max than be his friend, nothing could or would change that. 

“This is really good.” Kit said after a few minutes, having demolished two thirds of her food. Max was practically licking his lips in satisfaction, hands empty and the food all in his stomach. 

“Mm, it was.” He replied, eyes falling closed again. 

“Max, I swear to God.” Kit warned through a mouth of wrap. 

“I’m just resting my eyes.” Max said defensively. 

“That’s what they all say. Come on, at least stay awake until the end of the game.” Kit coaxed. 

“That’s in 30 minutes!” Kit tried not to snort at the way his accent intensified, making his pronunciation of thirty sound like and even stronger t-erty. 

“Exactly, and then it’ll be seven and you can fall asleep like a five year old for eleven hours.” Kit said. She felt a bit like she was talking to a five year old at the way he complained. 

“Will you put the can on my neck again if I try?” He asked, and Kit just nodded enthusiastically. 

“Argh.” Max groaned, letting his head lean back against the headboard. Don’t look at his neck, Kit thought to herself. Where did she look? His neck.

“You’ll live.” She replied, training her eyes back on the TV in front of her. The rest of the game passed without much movement from either party while Kit finished her food, but it wasn’t until the full time whistle blew that she realised it was because Max had already fallen asleep. His neck would be aching in the morning, as he was still half propped up on the headboard, but Kit didn’t have the guts to move him, the idea of touching him again a little bit too much for her to handle. Abu Dhabi had really done a number on her. 

She stood up from the bed gingerly, although from his current state she didn’t think he could be awoken form a bomb much less her soft, sock-muffled movements. She collected the paper from both wraps and crumpled it into the bin before turning off the TV and closing the blinds. The sunset was a bright orange in its fading minutes, and Kit took a second to admire the view of Melbourne through the glass windows. It was a rare peaceful moment in her life, and as she turned back around she forced herself not to zone out on the way Max’s breath moved evenly in and out of his chest. 

Her feet found their way back into her worn brown birkies and she did one last scan of the room to make sure she’d left nothing in there before leaving. A part of her even felt a twinge of regret at her and Max’s evening coming to an end so fast. It was realistically their last opportunity to spend time together before they began competing again, and she knew that this lull in their anger towards one another was only temporary. 

With a slight sigh, half from disappointment and half from exhaustion, Kit dragged herself towards the door. Her stomach dropped as she placed her hand on the cool metal handle and, without exerting any force on it, felt it push down of its own accord. Except it wasn’t of its own accord, it was the action of Jos Verstappen who was revealed to Kit as she stood back from the door so as to not be crushed behind it. The pair stood for a moment without speaking, both needing some time to process who they were seeing in front of them. The last time Kit had seen Jos this up close was back in Japan, and although they hardly interacted, the fact that they disliked each other was well-established. 

“Uh, I was just leaving.” Kit said softly, not wanting to wake Max. 

“Why were you here anyway? Is Max here?” Jos replied, not lowering his voice at all. In fact, he was verging on yelling. 

“Yeah, but he’s asleep.” Kit answered calmly, hoping that it would rub off on the older man. Jos said nothing, just storming past Kit and slamming the door loudly behind him, hand clutching a keycard so tightly that his knuckles were white. Kit couldn’t see Max from where she was standing against the short hallway’s wall, but she couldn’t imagine anyone could’ve stayed asleep after that. She was too scared to move from her position from fear of Jos. There was something in his eyes that she’d never seen in Max’s, even at his most angry. Something about Max’s anger was internal, even when he yelled or pushed he never seemed to be looking into you. Jos’ was very much external; Kit felt as though she was having holes burnt through her from the intensity of his glare. 

“Waarom heb je deze verdomde slet in je kamer?” She heard Jos yell at Max, the latter presumably awake now. Kit didn’t know what he was saying but still felt like she was invading. She wanted to slip out the door and back to her room, but she also felt like her feet were glued to the floor. 

“Waarom ben je hier eigenlijk aan het neuken? Waar is ze?” Max’s voice was slightly softer than his father’s, clearly having just been woken up suddenly, but he had also become angry so fast that Kit found it hard to believe that just a minute ago he was lying peacefully asleep. 

“Daar. Je kunt het je niet veroorloven om zo'n shit te doen Max.” Jos replied. Kit heard footsteps and all of a sudden Max was in front of her, his hand grasped her wrist but gently this time, and he was tugging her in the direction of the door. She followed, her heart beating so fast and loudly that it seemed to be clouding her senses. 

“Ik heb niets gedaan. Rot gewoon op.” Max said, and closed the door behind himself. Kit was scared for a moment that she heard the handle click to open again, but Jos didn’t emerge and the pair began walking down the corridor in silence for a moment. Kit assumed they would be going to her room, but then Max just kept walking after she paused in front of her door and, being nosy, she decided to follow. 

“Do you wanna, uh, talk?” Kit asked tentatively. She didn’t want to push the matter, not having any desire to spark their detestation any earlier than necessary. 

“Not really.” Max said flatly. He pressed the up button on the elevator, and although Kit didn’t know where he was going, she received the message loud and clear. 

“I’ll just go back to my room then.” Kit said softly, but she’d barely turned around when she felt that fucking hand on her wrist again. 

“Don’t.” Max said, not making eye contact with her. Kit didn’t reply, but turned back to stand shoulder to shoulder with the man. They remained in silence as the elevator doors opened and took them up to level 32, Kit not knowing what the significance was of the floor. Their footsteps were soft on the carpet, especially Max’s, the man not having anything on his feet except for socks. With each door that passed, Kit’s curiosity became too much and she looked up at the face of her teammate, his eyes trained directly in front of him. Finally they reached the end of the corridor and turned left into a hallway with no doors except for one made fully of frosted glass. Max made a beeline for it and pushed it open to reveal a small balcony, clearly not one made to host more than 20 guests at a maximum. He walked to a wooden bench at the furthest end and sat down, the view of the still fading sunset nearly blinding. Kit sat beside him without saying a word, just looking out onto the horizon. 

“Fuck me.” Max sighed suddenly. Kit looked over to see him with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. She couldn’t think of anything to do or say, so she just stayed quiet to give him the space to talk in his own time. 

“I’m sorry about that.” He mumbled into his palms. Kit was taken aback. She didn’t think she’d ever heard the words leave his mouth. 

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault.” She said quietly. She wanted to touch him, to do something , but once again she felt as if she couldn’t move. 

“It is. We shouldn't have been in there together. I knew he would come anyway. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” Max continued. He began to shake his head in his hands slowly. 

“What did your dad say?” Kit asked. She knew that if she repeated that it wasn’t his fault they would only go around in circles, even if it was true. 

“He uh, he called you a not-nice word.” Max half-laughed, clearly trying to distract himself. 

“Oh yeah, what?” Kit smiled. 

“I’ve called you it before.” Max said as he sat up straight again. His face was puffy from sleep and his eyes squinted at the sun. 

“He called me a slut?” Kit laughed. “You Verstappens.” 

“I think he thought we slept together.” Max chuckled, and Kit mirrored his actions, even as her stomach dropped. If a rumour like that started, it would be her head on the chopping block, not Max’s. But she wouldn’t let herself go there, it wasn’t like Jos would want that going around about his son, especially not if he’d called her a slut. 

“God, doesn’t he know I have standards?” Kit said, nudging Max with her elbow so that he’d know she was joking. 

“Fuck off.” Max said as he rolled his eyes, but his mouth morphed into a grin despite his words. Clearly they were both still in silent agreement to never mention Abu Dhabi ever again. 

“Do you like your dad coming with you to so many races?” Kit asked. It was something that had always piqued her curiosity. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel having her parents there every other weekend. 

“He makes me better.” Max said, although there wasn’t much love in his words. 

“How?” Kit continued. 

“He’s tough on me. He always has been.” Max answered, and Kit didn’t ask any follow up questions. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers. “You remember Russia?”

“Of course I do.” Kit smiled to herself. Her first podium, even if the rest of the weekend wasn’t exactly a high point. 

“Yeah well, other than Spa, which, I still don’t think that was my fault, but anyway.” Max sidetracked, and Kit smiled at his stubbornness. “That was the first race you really did better than me, and it was only made worse by the fact that you got a podium. So Jos was there that weekend, and after that race he gave me a bit of a smack and told me I could do better. And we got a double podium after so I guess it worked.” Kit didn’t know what to say. Max seemed so calm about it all. 

“He hit you?” Were the only words Kit could form. 

“I mean, not really.” Max replied nonchalantly. 

“Max…” Kit trailed off. 

“I didn’t say that because I want pity. I just want you to know that I need him here, but I don’t want him to be that involved.” Kit bit her tongue. She wanted to say that he didn’t need his father to give him ‘tough love’ to drive well. That actually, the first race after Russia, Max had a DNF. But she didn’t, because she remembered with sudden clarity that they’d hardly been considering themselves friends for a month and it wasn’t her place or responsibility to start telling him what he should and shouldn’t do. So she just hummed in neutral agreement and watched the last fading minutes of the sunset with him by her side. 

Chapter Text

“Fuck off Max.”

“What? I’m not doing anything.” The pair were seated outside the RedBull motorhome clad in shorts, t-shirts and sunglasses, enjoying the unusually warm March Melbourne air.

“Your feet are on my legs.” Kit said flatly, gesturing to the man’s legs that had decided to use her lap as a footrest. 

“So?” He grinned in response. 

“So, do I look like a piece of furniture to you?” Kit tried not to laugh as she struggled to push his feet away from her body. 

“Now that you mention it, actually. Ow!” he yelped, Kit’s fingers coming to pinch his ankle tightly. “Fine, fine, Jesus that hurt.” 

“Boo hoo.” Kit smiled, crossing her legs to prevent a repeat of his actions. 

“Is it going to be this hot tomorrow? I don’t think I can take a hot race.” Max said. He shuffled down in his seat to be able to recline with his arms crossed over his chest and his head resting back slightly, eyes closed, drinking in the sun. 

“Lemme check.” Kit replied, unlocking her phone. “It’s not gonna be that hot, max 29.” 

“That is definitely hot.” Max muttered. 

“You’re just a weakling.” Kit said. 

“Hey Kit.” The girl heard from behind her, a pair of hands soon coming to rest on her shoulders. She tilted her head up to be met with Charles’ smiling face. 

“Hey Charlie, what’s up?” Kit asked. 

“The sky.” 

“That’s so fucking corny.” The sound of a shuffling chair brought both of their gazes to Max, who was sitting up straighter and trying to look like he was busy observing a nearby tree. 

“Hey mate, how are you?” Charles asked, moving his position from behind Kit to come and sit at one of the other chairs in the sun. 

“Yeah, not bad.” Max said plainly. “How’s Ferrari?” 

“Oh mate,” Charles chuckled, “it’s going to be a long year for us.” 

“Shit, is it the car?” Kit asked. 

“I don’t even know, something’s just…off.” Charles said as he rubbed his face with his hands. 

“Hey, the season’s still young.” Kit said, trying to be optimistic. 

“Easy for you to say, your car is up there with Mercedes.” Charles replied. He didn’t sound resentful, in fact he was trying to match Kit’s positive tone, probably to distract himself from what seemed like a poor start to the season. 

“Don’t jinx us.” Kit laughed, poking his knee with her foot. She noticed Max shuffle around in his seat again, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Sorry, sorry, I meant to say that your car is lagging so much behind Mercedes.” Charles laughed in response. 

“Yeah, that’s better.” Kit grinned. “Anyway, how’s your real life? How’s Charlotte?” 

“She’s great.” Charles replied, his smile morphing from forced to genuine at the mention of his girlfriend. The sight made Kit’s heart swell. “We moved in together over the break, actually.” 

“Ooo, getting serious are we?” Kit asked suggestively. 

“Something like that.” Charles chuckled nervously. 

“Charles, eccoti qui.” A Ferrari-clad employee said in relieved Italian that soon became stressed. “Dobbiamo tornare nella nostra zona, a quanto pare c'è il Covid che vola nel paddock.”

“Davvero, dove?” Charles replied. Kit looked over at Max for some solidarity in not understanding a word that was being said, but his eyes seemed to be trained on the sky. His face had transformed back into that classic, neutrally angry look, so she didn’t push him. 

“Mercedes.” That was one word Kit did recognise. 

“What’s happening with Mercedes?” Kit asked.

“Apparently they’ve got Covid.” Charles said as he stood up from his chair. 

“Shit, what are you doing then?” 

“I have to go back to my own motorhome. I guess they’re trying not to contaminate everyone.” Charles said, looking over to watch the employee who had informed him of this information scamper around to gather everyone else wearing red. 

“Well, see you later then.” Kit said, trying to smile. Her stomach dropped slightly at the thought of being confined to only having Max to talk to while he was in this mood, but she told herself not to overthink it. It was probably just a safety measure. 

“Should we…uh…” Kit trailed off, feeling a concoction of overwhelming panic and helplessness begin to brew in her stomach, totally clueless as to what she was supposed to do. The looks on both Charles and the other Ferrari member’s faces were grave, taking the orders abnormally seriously in comparison to most other FiA rules. 

“Hmm?” Max hummed quizzically. 

Kit felt an all-too familiar pit of annoyance open in her stomach at the neutral look on his face. “You didn’t listen to anything that just happened?” 

“They were speaking Italian, were they not?” Max continued. 

“Ugh,” Kit balled her fists up at her sides and fought back tears. “You’re impossible.” She spun sharply on her heel and walked back into the motorhome, the lump in her throat growing larger and larger. She had no idea where it came from, this sick, panicked feeling swirling through her body. One second she was relaxing in the sun, excited for the weekend ahead at her home race, the next it felt as if the floor fell out from under her and she didn’t know why she was getting so affected by what could be nothing. One second Corona was just a funny flu named after a beer, and now it actually seemed like something serious. And the worst part about it was that she didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to do. Finally she’d made it to her room. In a crashing wave of emotion, Kit suddenly felt as if she was 15 and she had so much emotion within her for no explicable reason and she couldn’t put it into words, so she just let the tears fall down her face. 

“Fuck, what’s wrong with me?” Kit said to herself quietly as she sniffled snottily, lifting up the hem of her t-shirt to wipe her wet eyes and nose. She tried to take a few deep breaths, each one less shaky than the last. But outside the thin walls of the motorhome she could hear the paddock bustling with team members, uncharacteristically busy for a Wednesday. 

Footsteps sounded outside in the hallway, and something about the forcefulness of each step told Kit that it was Max. The movement stilled outside her door for a moment, and she even thought she heard the sharp intake of breath of someone who’s about to speak, but then the footsteps resumed as Max entered his own driver’s room and the door shut behind him. Not even a second later, her phone began to buzz incessantly, the result of both Max texting her and a slew of team emails coming through to her phone. 

Mad Max 😡 : you okay? usually i piss you off on purpose, so this is a bit new for me

Mad Max 😡 : btw we have to stay in our rooms

Mad Max 😡 : corona shit i think

Kit, as much as she wished she didn’t, smiled inadvertently at the messages. However, the team emails looked far more pressing, so she opened those first. 

Subject: Coronavirus safety measures - URGENT

Hi all,

As you may have heard, given how fast rumours spread around here, several Mercedes employees have tested positive for Coronavirus. Given the highly infectious nature of the disease, we’re asking all employees currently at the track to remain 1.5 metres (6ft) apart from each other where possible and to limit interactions with other teams to an absolute minimum. Michael Masi is currently in discussions with the state’s health officials on how best to proceed from here, but at the moment all we can do is wait. If you’re experiencing shortness of breath or any cold/flu like symptoms, please inform me and try to isolate yourself from others where possible. I know this is a very new and foreign thing for all of us, but if we all follow the rules hopefully we can get back to racing. 

Thanks, 

Angela

The smile dropped off Kit’s face and she felt sick. No, no, no, no, she told herself over and over again. Not her home race. Not this year. This was her year. This was the team’s year. Since testing, all she could think about was getting this car out on the track and feeling that first place trophy under her fingers. She felt her hands begin to shake. Stop it . Nothing had even been confirmed yet. It could all be fine. Why , she asked herself, why am I freaking out so much?

She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at her wall, all possible outcomes playing over and over and over in her head. She didn’t even really know what could happen. She had never felt so royally out of her depth. Her phone buzzed again, and she didn’t even try to call the disappointment at the notification not being Max by any other name.

RE: Coronavirus safety measures - URGENT

Hi again, 

I hate being the one to share this news, but in short, there will be no race this weekend. The Victorian government has instructed us all to pack up and return home as soon as possible, and obviously in accordance with safety measures, which I will outline shortly. 

Kit stopped breathing. She turned her phone off before she finished the email, because she’d seen all she needed to see. Her legs were moving of their own accord, and she barely blinked before she was knocking at Max’s door. She couldn’t go to any other teams, so that ruled out Charles and Daniel, and she didn’t think a phone call was what she needed right now. So Max it was. 

“Um, hi, did you get my messages?” Max asked awkwardly, clearing seeing Kit’s puffy cheeks and glassy eyes and not knowing how to respond. 

“I did.” Kit said, punctuated by a loud sniff. Don’t cry, don’t cry . 

“So, what’s up?” Max’s door wasn’t even fully open, but something about seeing him so carefree and nonchalant made Kit feel even worse, and without really meaning to she found herself careening towards his chest and breaking down in sobs. 

“Woah, okay, uh…” Kit knew that they weren’t friends like this. They could eat dinner and watch TV and chat shit but this? No way. And yet her tears wouldn’t stop flowing, and the simple fact that she didn’t really know why only made her feel even worse. Gingerly, Max’s frozen arms regained movement and wound their way around Kit’s torso, hands coming to rest softly on her back. Kit was hiccupping, and she didn’t even realise but she had come to clutch Max’s t-shirt in her hands, so tight she could feel her fingernails on her palm through the fabric. She didn’t feel 15 anymore, she felt five. Helplessly sobbing for no apparent reason, without the emotional self-regulation to stop. 

“Kit, what’s the matter? I’m assuming this isn’t about me, is it?” Max asked quietly, his chin gently touching her temple as he brought her closer. Strangely, he was doing quite a good job of calming her down. Kit no longer felt like the world was collapsing around her, enough to let out a wet half-laugh half-sob. 

“No, I don’t really know what it’s about. I’m just…I think I’m freaking out.” Kit slowly unclutched her hands from Max’s shirt, but couldn’t bring herself to step away from the man and look him in the eyes. 

“You think?” Max said sarcastically, but without any judgement. 

“Okay, yes, I’m freaking out.” Kit sniffled, bringing her hands up to wipe futilely at her eyes, only spreading the tears around. 

“Here, you, okay,” Max narrated as he manhandled Kit into sitting on the small couch against the wall, fussing around in search of something, “There, alright, use these.” He said triumphantly, thrusting a box of tissues into her lap. 

“Thanks.” She murmured sadly, the trumpet-like blowing of her nose contrasting heavily against the otherwise quiet room. 

“I don’t wanna sound, um, rude.” Max started tentatively, sitting down next to her on the couch.

“That’s new.” Kit said, a cheeky smile gracing her features. 

“Okay, so you must be feeling better now then?” Max said indignantly, also with a smile on his face.

“Sorry, sorry, go ahead.” 

“I just, I mean, you have to see that this is a bit weird, right?” Max said, gesturing between their seated figures. 

“Yeah, I know, I don’t even, ugh.” Kit said, leaning back on the wall in frustration. 

“Yeah, that really clears things up.” Max replied.

“Sorry, fuck. I just couldn’t sit in there and stare at that wall when everything’s going to shit. I mean, the race is cancelled, we all have to fly home, who knows what the fuck is happening, whether the rest of the season is still happening, whether we’ll get to drive the car…” Kit trailed off, lost in her own thoughts again. The feeling of Max’s palm against her shoulder blade nearly jolted her out of her skin, but she soon found herself being soothed, once again, by his presence. Shockingly. 

The cheap clock ticked on the wall once, twice, three times. “They’re saying we’ll have to go into lockdown when we get back to Monaco. Fully isolated, can't leave our houses, everything.” 

Kit turned her head to face Max with a bemused expression. “That’s how you comfort me?” 

“Hey, I’m not your fucking therapist.” Max’s hand had come to rest further along her back, his whole arm basically wrapped around her shoulders. 

“It’s so weird, to think about us just leaving. No race, no quali, just, go home.” Kit crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into Max’s arm slightly. 

“Mmm. I really thought this was the year.” Max said, more to himself than to Kit. 

“Don’t get your hopes up buddy, so did I.” The only response Kit garnered was a slight rise and fall of Max’s chest to tell her that he’d huffed out a laugh. Something about the movement reminded her of their current position, and she sprang to her feet in a heartbeat. “We’re supposed to be isolating.” 

Max gave her a blank look that seemed to last an eternity. “Well, yes.”

“This,” Kit waved between them, “is not isolating.” 

“Okay.” Max continued to look at her blankly, but something in his eyes told Kit that he was amused. “We are still in my room, so…” 

“Right.” Kit said, a flush taking to her cheeks. She felt so scatterbrained, so all over the place, she hardly knew what she was talking about anymore. The panic even began to rise in her chest again at the thought of going back into her room, just a small taste of the isolation they were all supposedly about to enter into indefinitely. But then Max’s mouth quirked in an infinitesimally small smile, and then the hand that had been resting around her shoulders patted the recently vacated spot next to him. 

“We’re drivers, we don’t really have to follow the rules.” Max stated. 

“That’s an awful attitude to have, Verstappen.” Kit said, taking her seat again anyway. Her heart was still beating out of her chest. He just shrugged, his arm returning around her shoulders. The weight was comforting, even if her occasional glances to the side to remind herself who she was sitting next to were followed by a strange feeling in her body. So totally uncomfortable, but also so totally content, all at the same time. She felt an increased pressure on her shoulder and saw that Max was leaning over her to reach the remote, flicking on the TV.

“Vandaag bereikt het aantal Coronavirus-infecties in Italië duizelingwekkende nieuwe hoogten, zoals ook het dodental-” A Dutch news reporter announced in a voice that was both emotionless and animated, but her voice was quickly replaced by a Dutch reality TV show as Max switched the channel. 

“Sorry, you probably don’t want to watch the news right now.” Max said, the words sounding strange coming out of his mouth, as if he’d just read the sentence in a book and had never said them aloud before. 

“I can’t understand a thing they’re saying anyway, so I don’t really care.” Kit smiled, amused by the thought that Max had forgotten that she couldn’t speak Dutch. 

“Right.” He said, now seeming sheepish at having turned on the TV in the first place. Still, with typical Max Verstappen levels of expression. He reached to pick up the remote again and turn off the TV, but Kit reached out to stop him. 

“You can describe what’s happening to me.” She grinned, only faltering slightly when she realised that their hands were still touching, needing to rectify that immediately by recoiling it back into her lap. 

“Yay.” Max rolled his eyes. 

“Do you have something better to do? I assume we just have to wait here till someone calls us or comes to get us.” Kit said. 

“Yeah, alright, fair point.” Max replied, and if Kit had gotten distracted for even a moment she would have missed the fractionally small shuffle that showed he was trying to get comfy on the impossibly uncomfortable couch. It made her heart hurt. 

“...And then Sanne said to Kim that Marianne was being a slut-”

“Is that slet?”

“Yes, well, no, Sanne called Marianne a lichtekooi, which is more like a, a paid slut.”

“A hooker?” 

“Yes.” Max clicked his fingers happily. “Hooker.” 

“But Sanne was that one that kissed Jon behind Kim’s back in the first place.” 

“Yes, I know,” Max said impatiently, “But she’s trying to cover it up because now she wants to be with Michael.”

“But Michael’s with Marianne? That cheeky, uh, lig-de-koy?”

“Lichtekooi.”

“Lichhhdegoy.” Kit repeated, emphasising the guttural Dutch sound that Max produced so effortlessly. 

“Close enough.” Max said. It had been hours with no further instructions, except for Christian coming to check on them and inform them that flights were currently being booked, but because so many people were trying to leave Melbourne all at once, including the fans, it was slightly more difficult than usual. And the traffic was so horrendous around the track that they may as well just wait here instead of trying to get back to the hotel. He also congratulated them on finally getting along, so Kit bit her tongue as to not say that it probably all would’ve gone out the window if they had actually raced this weekend. 

“Is that your phone?” Kit said at the sound of buzzing. 

“Yeah.” Max replied, his body suddenly going very tense under Kit’s shoulder. “It’s probably just my dad.” 

“Oh, shit Max.” Kit trailed off, still not really having anything to say to him on the topic. 

“It’s fine, I’m just not in the mood.”

“What if he wants to apologise?” Kit asked, and she became painfully aware how much she sounded like a naïve little kid. 

“He doesn’t, I guarantee.” They returned their attention to the TV, but clearly the mention of Jos had put a damper on the air because Max didn’t continue his running commentary. The second one buzzing sound stopped, another commenced from a different corner of the room, and Kit stood up with stiff joints to pick it up. Her left side felt instantly too cold. 

“Hey Angela.” Kit said to Christian’s assistant on the other line.

“Hey Kit, is Max with you? I tried calling him, but the message is for both of you anyway so it doesn’t really matter.” 

“Yeah, he is. What’s up?” At the mention of a ‘he’, Max’s head sprang up like an excited puppy. 

“We’ve finally managed to book you some flights back to Monaco, well, Nice, but you know what I mean. I know you two aren’t best friends or anything but it was easier to just do it all at once so you’ll have to endure him for 24 hours.” Kit thought she could almost hear the amusement in her voice. 

“It’s no problem, thank you for getting the flights anyway.” Kit replied, not wanting to sound like a spoiled brat.

“No worries, no worries, it leaves at 10 so you’ve got plenty of time to get there, but I wouldn’t fuss about, given the traffic in the city right now. I’ve emailed your tickets through and there’s a taxi coming to get you from the hotel at 8. All good?”

“Yep, that’s perfect, I’ll pass on the message.”

“Thanks, see you soon.” Angela hung up her phone, and Kit had the thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach that it may not be soon at all. 

“What was that?” Max murmured. It seemed that the only thing keeping him awake in the late evening Melbourne sun was his narration, because his eyes were practically shut.

“We’ve got flights, anyway we’ve got to get a wriggle on, taxi’s coming to the hotel at 8.”

“Together?” The question made no grammatical sense but Kit understood the memo. 

“Yes, we do live in the same city, remember?” Kit was grateful that Max had let her stay in his room for so long, because as she rubbed her eyes sleepily she remembered why she was in there in the first place and couldn’t imagine spending the past few hours alone in her driver’s room without distractions. 

“Vaguely.” Max hummed. 

“You’ve got 10 minutes, and then we’re going back to the hotel, okay?” Kit practically ordered, satisfied by his slow nod. Stepping out into the hallway of the motorhome, Kit was taken aback by how quiet it was. It seemed that it had been easier to ship out engineers and mechanics in bulk, all of whom lived in England, than two drivers who lived in Monaco. The silence felt heavy on her shoulders, a confirmation that it was all real. That she was going home, and for the first time since she could remember, Kit didn’t know when she was going to race again.

Chapter Text

Kit lay in bed, as she had basically everyday for the past two weeks after training for a few hours and eating lunch. The blue light from her phone was starting to give her headaches, but given there was genuinely nothing else to do, she suffered through the pain. Confinement , as all the Monegasque government guidelines called it, was turning out to be much more of a bummer than she had anticipated. She’d always been extroverted, but she thought that she liked her own company too. That she would be fine on her own, that it would be sort of relaxing. With the hindsight that her little freak out in her driver room was probably just a mild anxiety attack and that she wouldn’t actually be rocking back and forth day and night in her apartment alone, she thought that she’d enjoy being able to do what she wanted, when she wanted. Wrong. 

That was why, when her Instagram explore page was obscured by the contact of her apartment building’s manager calling her, she actually felt excited at the prospect of a human conversation. 

“Hello?” She answered after a few rings, not wanting to look too desperate. 

“Hey Kit, it’s Jean, how are you?” The man said in his gruffly French accent. 

“I’m good, as good as I can be. How about you?” She had sat upright in bed and was fiddling with a loose thread on the edge of her sheets. 

“Oh, not too bad. My wife is starting to drive me nuts, but that’s okay, if we could make it through three bratty kids, we can make it through this. Anyway,” he took a deep breath, “I wanted to call you with some bad news.” 

Kit’s stomach dropped. “Oh, that doesn’t sound too good.” 

“No, it isn’t. I just got back the inspection report from a few months ago, remember when I called you about it and woke you up because you were in Australia?” 

“Mm hmm.” Kit hummed in agreement, although she hadn’t the faintest memory of this phone call. 

“So I got the report, and it says that the whole building’s fine except they found an issue with the plumbing that connects your apartment to the mains, and there’s a whole lot of mould and other disgusting stuff that I’ve never really heard of in your apartment, and that the gas line is also faulty, because it seems like the old building manager used to live in your apartment and never got any of the renovations done in his unit, for some reason. I know it’s really bad timing, but there’s nothing I can do really, other than try and help you find another place.” 

Kit was struggling to keep up through his accent. “So, hang on, I have to move out? Can’t I just stay here while they de-mould?” 

“Well, typically yes, but the people to fix it can’t come for a while and there are all these rules about how many people and blah blah, and it’s not very good for your health to be staying there for extended periods of time.” Kit suddenly felt as if the air in her mouth had a taste to it, and she stood up to walk out of her room, through the main area and onto her balcony. 

“So does that mean I’ve been breathing in mould for god knows how long?” 

“Probably, yes. But I wouldn’t worry, you still seem to be in good health.”

“Okay, so I basically need to just move out as soon as possible?” Kit asked tentatively, somehow still hoping that he would say no. 

“Yes, and I would suggest making it fairly permanent, it could be months, maybe even a year before they can fix it all. I’ve seen the photos, and…” Jean didn’t finish his sentence, but Kit heard the rustling of paper and a low whistle at whatever he was seeing. She felt ill at the idea of there being mould in all her walls. 

“Well, thanks for letting me know. Anything I have to do, with the tradies or anything?”

“The who?” He asked. 

“The tradies, the, uh, people who are gonna remove the mould.” Wow , Kit thought, I don’t know what the real word for a tradie is . 

“No, no, not at all. I will have it all sorted. I wish you luck in finding somewhere new!” He concluded, and hung up the phone before Kit could continue to grill him. God, why did she choose to live in Monaco, of all places? It wasn’t like the property market was exactly expanding, nor were too many people moving out, especially not now. Where the fuck was she supposed to go?

It used to be a hobby of hers as a teenager to go onto real estate websites and scroll through pictures of cosy townhouses and cute seaside cottages, but now that she actually had to choose somewhere to live, it wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. It seemed like every option was either a four bedroom penthouse costing tens of millions of dollars, or an apartment who’s rent was suspiciously low (until she read the agent’s description and it contained words like ‘rustic,’ ‘cosy’ or ‘ideal project home’: no thanks). A few hours into her search and it felt like she'd exhausted the (relatively small, but still) Monaco property and rental market, and she decided to start cooking dinner to try and take her mind off her impending homelessness. 

She filled up her kettle and got it boiling, then took out a mix of veggies from her fridge and started chopping to make a pasta sauce. The onion particles in the air had just started to make her eyes stream when her phone began to ring, off silent mode for the first time in about a decade, because she wasn't exactly drawing attention to herself with the noise. 

“Fuck, of course.” Kit muttered to herself. She rinsed her hands under the tap and tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her wrist, giving up and drying them on her t-shirt before picking up the phone.

“Hello?” She sniffled, not having seen the caller ID through her blurry eyes.

“Bloody hell Kit, have you been crying?” She heard Daniel’s laughing voice reply.

“Oh, hey Dan. No, just chopping onions.”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I knew you were missing me, but not this much.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” She laughed, putting him on speaker so that she could continue her chopping. “So, why the call? Maybe you’re the one missing me.” 

“Nah, just bored. Plus, I’ve been watching American shows for the past two weeks and I’m worried my accent’s gonna turn all weird.” 

“Too late for that. Every time you call a jumper a sweater, I die on the inside a little bit more.” Kit said, trying to speak through the onion cloud that seemed to be seeping in through every orifice. 

“Oh, boo hoo. What are you cooking?” 

“Pasta. I just need to use up my veggies, some of them are getting a bit manky.” Kit eyed a questionable looking capsicum through bleary eyes as she finally finished the onion and could move on.

“Bor-ring. Shouldn't you be learning new things now that we're in lockdown?”

“Ugh, no. I’m trying to convince myself it won't last for long.” 

“So what do you do all day? Please don't tell me you're a gamer now too. I tried to ring Max yesterday and his attention span is so short now he only lasted 5 minutes before he ‘had to go’.” 

“Some would say that’s more than enough time talking to him.” Kit snorted as she pottered around the kitchen, getting out a large pan and frying up the onion. “But no, I’m not a gamer, don’t worry.” 

“I thought you two were getting along now?” Kit barely heard the question over the loud sizzling of the onions, reaching over to her phone to turn up the volume. 

“I mean, yeah, sort of. I don’t know what we would have an actual conversation about though.” 

“I saw you two chatting at testing and in Oz, before we got sent home, obviously.”

“That was…” Kit trailed off as she remembered sitting in Max’s driver room for several hours straight, nobody but them. Sure, they had Dutch reality TV reruns to entertain themselves, but they talked about other stuff too. And then there was the night before, when they’d had that deep and meaningful about his dad. Well, as deep and meaningful as Max could probably get. 

“Kit, you have to admit, you don’t hate him.” She could practically see Daniel’s grin in real life. Instead of replying, she scraped her diced veggies into the pan and added some canned tomatoes, turning down the heat to let it all simmer.

“Fine.” She turned around to lean on the edge of the kitchen bench, crossing her arms as she looked out at Monaco’s skyline, the early sunset light casting shadows just slightly deep enough to notice. “He has good moments. Plus, we’re only getting along now because we haven’t raced together in so long. The last time we raced…” She actually considered telling Daniel for a moment, but retracted that brainwave immediately. If she told someone else, then she had to admit that it was real. Well, she’d already told Ceci, but girl talk didn’t really count. She hadn’t told anyone else connected to racing. 

“Spit it out woman, you’d think you were cooking something actually complicated.” Daniel laughed impatiently. 

“Just, nothing, we just got a bit heated, that’s all. It all sort of boiled over, but now it’s all settled because we haven’t been racing. I swear, as soon as we get back on that track, it’ll be back to Mad Max and, like, whatever they call me.” 

“Angry Cat.” Daniel replied almost immediately. “I watch the videos, they’re pretty funny.”

“Daniel.” Kit groaned like a petulant child. “You’re supposed to be on my side, here.” 

“Uh, no, I’m impartial between you and Max.” 

“Oh, so when you ring Max and he bitches about me you’re impartial, are you?” 

“He doesn’t bitch about you.” Daniel laughed. 

“Oh, sure .” Kit rolled her eyes, even though Daniel couldn’t see her. 

“He doesn’t! I’m being serious.” 

“Okay, what does he say about me then?” Kit lifted the lid on her sauce to stir it around, scooping out a veggie with her slotted spoon to see how crunchy it still was. 

“Why do you care? I thought you hated him?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“I can’t tell you anyway. Sworn to secrecy.” He said, once again through a laugh.

“Come off it.” Kit groaned.

“To stay impartial I have to keep both sides separate. I’m like a vault.”

“Yeah, sure buddy.” Kit moved over to the sink to fill up a cup with water, trying to suppress the intensified hunger she was now feeling as she cooked. The sound of running water probably sounded identical to the way it always sounded, but something about it reminded her of what the building manager had told her, and she immediately felt a shiver of disgust run through her body as she tipped the water back down into the sink. 

“Ugh, Dan, I forgot to tell you,” she began, “apparently my unit used to be the one the old building manager lived in and he never got it renovated alongside the rest of the building for god knows what reason, and anyway, guess what?”

“There’s a dead body under your floor.” Dan said blankly. 

“Ha ha. No.” Kit deadpanned. “There’s like mould and shit through my walls, my plumbing’s fucked apaprently, oh, and also something to do with my gas?” She eyed her stove top wearily, but figured that if she couldn’t smell the gas and if she hadn’t mushroom exploded her kitchen when it turned on that it couldn’t be too bad, right? She was hungry, so she didn’t really care anyway. 

“Fuck Kit, that actually sounds really bad. You’re gonna move, right?”

“Yeah, easier said than done. I’ve been looking all afternoon, there’s nothing available. Everything’s either so huge that I would feel really lonely, or so dodgy that there could actually be a body under the floor.”

“We’re in Monaco, there aren’t places like that.”

“Do you want the pictures?” Kit laughed. “Anyway, so, yeah, I’m breathing in mould until I find a place. Actually, while you’re here-”

“No.” Daniel cut her off. “I mean, obviously you can stay for, you know, a week or whatever, I’m not heartless, but I only have one bedroom, and-”

“Dan, it’s fine.” Kit said, although she was genuinely a bit hurt by how quickly he shut her down.

“No, seriously Kit, I would buy bunk beds or top and tail with you, it’s just…okay, I was gonna tell you, honestly, but then I just didn’t want it to become a big thing-”

“Have you got Covid?” Kit half-gasped. 

“No, no, it’s a good thing, I promise.” 

“A good thing that means I can’t move in with you.” Kit said interrogatively. 

“I’m living with my girlfriend.” 

Daniel had hardly finished the sentence before Kit had started jumping up and down in excitement. “You have a girlfriend? Since when?” 

“Uh, halfway through last year. I mean, she already lived in Monaco, so we just thought we should move in together in case this goes on for months.” Daniel sounded slightly sheepish, but Kit didn’t care, she was so excited for the older man. 

“She already lived in Monaco? Daniel, bit of a gold digger much.” Kit grinned. 

“She’s not a gold digger!” He replied defensively. 

“I meant you , she’s gotta have some seriously deep pockets to be living here.” 

“You live here too.” He said smartly. 

“God Daniel, are you stupid? Tell me who she is.” Kit groaned. 

“She’s uh, her name’s Heidi.” 

“Cute, cute, is she Deutsch?” 

“Austrian.” He didn’t elaborate. 

“And she’s living in Monaco because?” Kit needed to exert her newfound energy somehow, so she continued to stir her sauce with increased vigour. What a sad, sad life. 

“Uh, she’s sort of, like, you know Berger? Gerhard Berger?” 

“Daniel, oh my god, shut up. You’re dating his daughter? Really keeping it in the profession, huh?” She was grinning so widely she thought her face would snap in half. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He said, and Kit could hear the affection in his voice. It made her sad, in a tiny way, that she didn’t have anything like that. 

“Okay, well, I forgive you then. I won’t come sneak in in the middle of the night to sleep on your couch.”

“You know what though?” Daniel said, perking up tremendously. 

“What? You just remembered you have a spare room?” Kit laughed. 

“No, but I can think of someone who does.” He said, something in his tone showing that he was amused for reasons unbeknownst to Kit. 

“Yeah, go on then.” 

“You’re not gonna take my suggestion on board.” Despite his disbelief, she could hear him smiling. 

“Daniel, the man who informed me of my mould situation didn’t even know the name of whatever ecosystem is festering in my walls. Try me.” 

“That’s fucking disgusting, but okay. Starts with an M, ends in a-”

“I’m not moving in with him.” Kit said monotonically. 

“Told you!” Kit let herself think as she stirred her veggie mix a few more times, placing the lid back on as she re-boiled the kettle and got the pasta out from her cupboard. She felt her stomach drop as she started up another burner on the stove, her body flooding with relief as it actually lit and didn’t create a suspicious gas smell in her kitchen. 

“Okay, fine, maybe. Would he even let me move in though? He’s not my biggest fan either.” 

“You said it yourself, you’re fine together when there’s no racing involved. There might be no racing involved for quite a while.” That made Kit sad for a whole other reason, but also more aware of how dire her situation was. 

“Surely there’s got to be someone else I could stay with.” Kit tried to rack her brains. Charles also had a girlfriend, Daniil had a wife and a kid, and they weren’t great friends anyway, just good-ish teammates, neither George, nor Alex, nor Lando, the other drivers in her age bracket, lived in Monaco, and Ceci, her only non-F1 friend, lived in Australia. Fuck. “Okay, so maybe there isn’t, but still, that would be so…weird. Like, living with Max. Actually living with him.”

“Stop trying to convince yourself that you don’t want to.” Daniel grinned. 

“What? I’m trying to convince myself that I do want to. In case you’ve forgotten, there are video compilations of us publicly disliking each other. Videos you watch all that time, apparently.” 

“Hey, they’re pretty funny. You should watch one.” 

"'Cos that’s really gonna convince me to move in with the guy.” Kit said sarcastically, pouring the now boiling water from the kettle to the pot and chucking the pasta in after it, checking the time on the microwave and counting forward ten minutes in her head. 

“How about you get a real estate agent then to look for a place for you, if you’re so adamant about not asking Max.” 

“Real estate agent’s are a scam when you’re buying.” Kit said instinctively. She still remembered her dad walking the streets of Monaco with her after her first year in Formula 1, going between open houses and auctions themselves because ‘real estate agents have somehow conned modern society into thinking they’re in any way necessary.’

“Kit, you’re not exactly strapped for cash.” Daniel chuckled. 

“Nothing wrong with being frugal. And besides, are real estate agents even allowed to like, do… whatever it is they do right now?”

“That’s a good point actually. Okay, how about you give yourself a week to try and find somewhere, and if, after that, you’ve still got nothing, you ask Max.” 

Kit mulled it over in her head. Mouldy walls and gas leaks or Max occasionally being a giant fuckhead. “Fine, but there’s still no guarantee he’ll agree anyway.” 

“I s’pose.” Daniel hummed in agreement, not sounding like he believed Max, the man whose place she would be asking to move into indefinitely while living in lockdown, someone who had a track record of not liking her, would be an issue in this whole scenario. “I’ll have a look for you too, I’ve got nothing better to be doing.” 

“Wow Dan, thanks, really feeling the love.” Kit rolled her eyes. 

“Anytime.” He said sarcastically. Kit heard another voice in the background, and smiled to herself as she pictured Daniel living in a little domestic dreamscape. If anyone deserved it, it was him. “I’ve gotta go, it’s, um…” 

“Give Heidi my love.” Kit laughed.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Seriously though, think about the Max thing.” He pushed. 

“I will, I promise. Talk to you soon?” 

“‘Course, see ya.” 

“Bye.” Kit didn’t have to press the red circle, the call screen disappearing before she had reached over. Her apartment now seemed eerily quiet without Daniel’s booming voice, and every breath she took made her feel as if she was breathing in spores. She cringed to herself and walked across the living room to open a few windows, the fresh air slightly too cold to be comfortable, but it was better than being in some weird fungus confinement room. 

Her pasta actually turned out nice, and she ate it while rewatching random episodes of Friends. She realised that, from the outside, they were incredibly annoying, but they spoke so fast and the episodes had so much going on that there were no silences to be filled with, well, more silence, and that was what Kit needed. An hour in, her dinner long finished and the sun low on the horizon, she had to venture back into her room to get her doona, preferring to huddle with herself for warmth than feel as if the mould was entering her lungs. 

It was at 2am that night that Kit realised she couldn’t wait a week. It wasn’t like when she was told about the lockdown, where her body went into immediate panic mode and it took some time and rationality to calm herself down again. No, this was the reverse. The more she tried to think rationally, the more she couldn’t help but picture her walls full of black, furry, disgusting stuff that had been in there for god knows how long. The air actually felt heavier, and even though she knew it was just the placebo of now being aware of the problem, that didn’t help her relax or brush it off.

Eventually, Kit gave up on tossing and turning and got out of bed, ignoring the goosebumps that rose up on her legs at the cool air and grabbed a jumper (her own merch, she realised unfortunately once she turned the lights on) and another blanket and walked back out to the living room, the larger space making her feel less like her skin was about to start sprouting mushrooms. She opened up her contacts and nearly pressed the call button under Ceci’s name before she had the sense to check what time it was in Sydney. 12 noon, perfect. 

A few rings played through her phone before Ceci’s voice replaced them. “Hey Kit, what’s up? Isn’t it like-”

“2am, yeah.” Kit laughed.

“Damn, everything alright?” Ceci asked, and it sounded like she was chewing. Probably her lunch break, Kit thought to herself. 

“I had something to talk to you about, but if you wanna relax on your break it’s fine, it can wait.” 

“Kit, shut the fuck up. This is the highlight of my day, now spill.” She couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s directness. 

“Okay, well, basically, my apartment, like my unit specifically, is fucked, there’s all this mould and shit in the walls, my gas is weird, it’s a whole thing. And it could take ages to fix, ‘cos they can’t get tradies here quickly, obviously, and there’s rules on how many can be here at a time, and I don’t, well, I can’t really live here if there’s mould and shit everywhere, right?” She heard Ceci hum in confirmation that she was still listening. 

“So I asked Daniel, but he’s living with his girlfriend-”

“Danny Ric has a girlfriend?” Ceci interrupted in surprise, Daniel being one of the few drivers she was aware of before her and Kit had rekindled their friendship. 

“Yes, but fuck, don’t tell anyone, okay? I only found out today, I think he wants to keep it private.” 

“Yeah, of course, I mean, I still haven’t told anyone about you and Max and that’s way more interesting-”

“Yeah, okay, let’s not talk about that. So, I can’t stay with Daniel, Charles also has a girlfriend, I don’t have any other good friends in Monaco, there aren’t any good places on the market and even if there were, I don’t know if I can go and look at them or anything, so, it sort of leaves me with one option.” 

“You’re coming back home?” Ceci squealed excitedly. 

“Cece, the borders are fucked. I’d have a hard enough time booking a flight to Sydney, let alone actually being let into the country.” 

“Yeah, fair point, so what’s your one option then?” 

“Well, Max has a-”

“Oh my god.” 

“What?” Kit said defensively. 

“This is just an only-one-bed story playing out before my eyes.” 

“What does that even mean?” Kit asked, shivering as a cool breeze swept across her face. 

“It means that you’ll be with him, alone, for god knows how long, forced to be in close proximity, I mean, anything could happen.” Just like Daniel, she could practically see Ceci grinning.

“Absolutely not. That was a one time thing.”

“Yeah, alright mate, sure it was. But it sounds like you’ve made up your mind anyway.” Ceci doubled down. 

“Does it?” 

“Uh, yes. You have no other options, you’ll die if you stay, Max is your only option . I mean, do I really need to say any more?” 

“I don’t sound that dramatic.” Kit replied indignantly. 

“Okay, fine, that was an exaggeration. But I mean, if you really don’t think you have any other option, go for it. Either you’ll hate each other again and go back to the way you both were before, or you’ll actually get along better and that can only be a good thing, right?” 

“I guess.” Kit murmured. 

“Babe, you sounded so sure a second ago, stop trying to convince yourself you don’t like the idea.” 

“I’m not! Daniel said that exact same thing.” 

“Then I think you have your answer.” 

“What if he says no and thinks it’s really weird and then tells everyone that I’m some weird desperate girl who wants to move in with him.” Kit rambled. 

“Do you hear yourself right now? Since when did you give a fuck what he thinks? Just explain the situation, I’m sure he’ll at least let you crash until you find something more permanent, at minimum.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Sleep on it, Kit. Worst he can say is no.” 

“Fine, I’ll go to bed then. See you soon?” 

“Hope so. Bye.” Ceci said sweetly.

“Bye.” Kit flopped back onto the couch, not wanting to go back into her room. She knew her neck would hate her the next day, but she didn’t care. Taking a deep, cold breath in and closing her eyes as she curled up in a ball, she knew she couldn’t do this for a week. 

Chapter Text

Kit was awoken by bright sunlight streaming in through unobstructed glass, having forgotten to close the shutters in her living room the night before. As she sat up, her neck muscles felt like they’d solidified into concrete and she knew she would have to do some extensive stretching that morning before she trained to try and shake off the poor sleeping position of the night before. She shuffled into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, noting the time on the microwave that read 06:38. Awesome, she’d had less than five hours of sleep. 

Given the factory reset that happened to her body whenever she woke up, coupled with her lack of sleep, it took a solid twenty minutes of mindless scrolling before she remembered her current dilemma, and she felt her stomach drop as she considered having to ask such a huge favour of Max. She closed instagram and opened safari, the real estate website still open from the day before, and continued her quest for somewhere else to live. A few places actually sparked her interest this time, but half of them were either labelled as ‘deposit taken’ or ‘currently not available for viewing,’ and while she briefly considered just moving in somewhere without seeing it first, she wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of ending up in another dodgy unit. 

So, swallowing the remainder of her tea alongside her pride, she opened the messages app and scrolled down a bit until she saw the familiar 😡 that appeared next to Max’s name. 

hey, need to call you so text me when you’re free

It wasn’t even a whole minute later that her phone buzzed in response, and she looked back at the microwave to see it was still only 7 in the morning. 

Mad Max 😡 : free now, what’s up?

Kit assumed it would just be easier to call him and explain, so she chose not to type a reply and just clicked on the call symbol, each ring making her grow more hesitant, to the point where she even considered just hanging up and ignoring him. 

“Hey Kit.” Okay, well, now she had to ask him. 

“Hey Max, how’re you going?”

“Not too bad, what did you need to talk about?” He sounded quite sleepy still, and obviously not in the mood for small talk. 

“Well, it’s kind of, I mean, there’s, okay so basically I can’t live in my apartment anymore and it’s really hard to find places at the moment and I can’t move in with any of the other guys cos they either don’t live here or have girlfriends and Daniel told me that you had a spare room, and I know it’s so random and like we are not close enough to move in together and I’m more than happy to pay you rent but also obviously you can say no, like I don’t know why I’m even really asking-”

“Why can’t you live at your house anymore?” He cut her off, and she internally cursed him for being so unexpressive, because she couldn’t tell whether or not she was on the right track or she was just annoying him. 

“Mould, and shit. Like, really bad mould.” She sounded like such an idiot. 

“Uh, I mean, sure. The spare room’s pretty small, but better than mould, I guess.” Max replied, and it took Kit a moment to process that he’d actually said yes. Fuck, he’d said yes. 

“Yeah, wait, like seriously? You really don’t mind? ‘Cos I know we’re not really friends or anything.” 

“Kit, I think we can call ourselves friends now, at least.” Max said, and she nearly thought he sounded amused. 

“I mean, yeah, okay, good point. So, what now?” Kit said awkwardly. She hadn’t really thought this through, she just knew she couldn’t sleep on the couch every night. 

“I don’t know, it was your idea.” Max actually laughed. 

“Fair enough.” Kit laughed in return. “Um, I guess I’ll pack, and then drive over to yours?” 

“Do you need help with that? The packing, I mean?” He asked.

“Are you allowed to come over?” 

“You’re about to move in with me, I don’t think it really matters.” Max laughed again. This was so weird. She was about to move in with him. 

“Then, yeah, okay, I’d appreciate that.” Kit smiled to herself. 

“Alright, I’ll be over soon.”

“Okay, see you soon then.” The line went dead, and Kit’s thoughts raced away for a few moments as she sat at the kitchen bench, unsure of what to do with herself. Then she remembered that she was in her pyjamas and a RedBull jumper, and rushed into her room to get ready. She grabbed a pair of leggings and a baggy shirt, luckily not her own merch this time, and went into her bathroom to wash her face, presumably not having time for a real shower. The feeling of water on her face made her cringe, and the stuffiness and dampness that now exuded from her bathroom walls only confirmed the decision she was making. So what if it was sort of very incredibly odd to be moving in with a man she hated only a few short months ago? Better than exacerbating whatever lung disease she’d probably developed over the past year that she’d lived in her apartment. 

She’d just pulled on a pair of socks when there was a knock at her door, not living in a fancy enough apartment building to warrant a buzzer or an intercom or anything actually secure like that. She glanced through the peephole out of habit, even though there was no one else it could be this early in the morning, and undid the latch to open the door. 

“Morning.” Max smiled. He was wearing trackies and a RedBull hoodie, because of course he was, and under one arm he held a stack of what appeared to be flattened cardboard boxes. 

“You’re smart.” Kit said, pointing at the cardboard as she stepped aside to let him in. 

“You don’t have boxes?” Max asked incredulously, setting them down on top of her kitchen bench and surveying the large living room/kitchen, like he was searching for some sign of evidence that corroborated her reasons for needing to move. 

“Uh, no.” Kit said sheepishly. “It’s sort of a, uh, rushed decision.” 

“I don’t see the mould.” He replied neutrally.

“It’s in the walls. They only told me yesterday.” Kit said awkwardly, just now realising that he probably wasn’t overly thrilled about letting her stay with him and was just trying to be nice, even if that was wildly out of character for him. 

“I see.” 

“Do you not believe me?” Kit grinned, now deciding to enjoy his awkwardness. 

“No, I, of course I believe you, it’s just-”

“Max, relax, it’s fine, I’m just joking. Thank you for the boxes. And the help. And the spare room. By the way, how much do you want in rent?” Kit asked as she walked behind the bench to put the kettle on, this time to make coffee for both of them. 

“Oh, you don’t have to pay me rent.” Max said quickly, sitting down at her bench as he realised that they wouldn’t be jumping straight into the packing. 

“Max.” Kit said flatly, turning her head back towards him from where she stood, pouring out coffee grounds into her very old stove top coffee pot. “I’m paying you rent.” Again, her stomach dropped as the gas of the stove took slightly longer to ignite, the lighter ticking away to no avail, but luckily it didn’t blow up once it finally emitted the blue flame and she could let the coffee sit to simmer.

“No you aren’t. That’s so weird. Plus, it’s not like I have a mortgage or anything, you’d just be paying me for nothing.” Max insisted. 

“Okay, fine.” She caved warily. “But once we start racing again, if things, you know, get ugly, you’re not allowed to start calling me a freeloader or anything like that.”

“I’m not gonna do that.” Max replied, and if she wasn’t well accustomed to his old stoniness, she would’ve thought he was a bit offended. Luckily the coffee pot began to bubble, signalling its readiness and she filled two cups with the dark liquid. 

“Milk?” 

“Yes please.” Max replied, accepting the cup gratefully as Kit came to sit beside him at the bench with her own milky coffee, the mug warming her hands. 

“Why were you awake so early anyway?” Kit asked. Their knees were tantalisingly close together, separated by a few centimetres and two layers of fabric, but Kit felt as if there was some kind of static electricity between them, so acutely aware of each place they were close. 

“Couldn’t sleep that well last night. I’m used to being more, um, tired, I guess.” 

“Maybe it’s good to have a break then.” Kit said. 

“Maybe. I am really fucking bored though.” He replied, and she could only snort at his bluntness. 

“Ditto. To be fair, I’m gonna be in pretty good shape when we go back to racing, I’ve been working out a lot just to keep myself occupied.” 

“We should workout together then. Have a team schedule, or something.” 

Something about the suggestion of such a domestic activity made Kit seize up, and she once again began to doubt this decision. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, I could always stay in a hotel until I found somewhere proper to live, I don’t wanna cramp your style.” 

“It’s fine, seriously.” He insisted, seeing the dubious look in her eyes. “The only people I talk to are the guys when we play video games and my mum. Sometimes Daniel, when he’s really bored. It could be fun.” 

“But what if it gets all weird?” Kit asked.

“It won’t. That was…that won’t happen again.” There was a moment of quiet understanding as they held eye contact, both obviously thinking about Abu Dhabi, but if Max was so sure that it would be fine, even fun, Kit didn’t see why she couldn’t think the same. 

“Yeah, no, you’re right. Well, we should probably get started, hey?” Kit broke the silence, coughing as if to mark the end of that conversation. 

“Do you want me to start somewhere specific?” Max asked, and Kit only now realised how little she’d thought this through. What was she going to do with her furniture? Would she really take all her stuff to Max’s, given he would also have a toaster and frying pans and cutlery and cushions and- okay , she told herself, that isn’t helping .

“Maybe you could start with the kitchen, packing up everything in the drawers? I’ll do my bedroom and bathroom, obviously, and then we could both carry down the TV and stuff together?” Kit said, hurriedly trying to think through a plan of attack. 

“I have a TV.” Max said, actually smiling properly now. 

“Right, of course you do. Okay, then, maybe just pack anything you don’t have, ‘cos I s’pose I’ll be coming back once it’s all demoulded, I guess?” Kit began to pace slowly, her thoughts jumbled and not making any sense. God, why was this happening to her now? Could she not have had this problem just a few weeks earlier? 

“Sure, you get started, I’ve got it.” he smiled kindly, and just that image made her feel slightly less apprehensive about the whole thing. When she thought about it, their few days in Australia had gone by without a hitch, right? So maybe being nice was his new thing. 

“Okay, just uh, I’ll be in here, if you need anything.” Kit said, her frazzledness obvious with the way she waved to her bedroom door and then scampered off like a spooked horse. Especially when she then had to re-enter the kitchen and take a few unfolded boxes, sending a tight-lipped smile in Max’s direction, the man already placing some of her appliances in a box. 

Her room seemed to empty out in not too much time at all, with her clothes fitting into the several suitcases she’d accumulated over the years, and most of the other nick-nacks only needing two cardboard boxes to fit into. Books, photo albums, cameras, jewellery, notebooks, pens, a speaker, it all condensed so perfectly into not very much space at all that she wondered how her apartment hadn’t felt empty all this time. Then again, she’d only lived there for a year, with not very much time actually being spent in its walls. Her bathroom only required one box, with her two bath towels forming a soft base for her hairdryer and toiletries. 

“Hey Kit?” She heard Max call, and after nearly an hour of working separately, she’d nearly forgotten he was there. 

“Yeah?” She replied, bringing two of the suitcases into the main area as she came out to check on him. 

“Do you think you’ll need your ironing board?” He asked, having opened the cupboard that housed her washing machine and dryer as well as all her cleaning things, most of which he’d packed into a box as if he didn’t have his own spray and wipe or clothes’ detergent in his apartment. 

“Probably not, I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to use yours if I need to iron something, although that seems unlikely at the moment.” Kit replied, eyes trained on the watermelon patterned fabric that covered the board leaning upright in the cupboard, head tilted to the side in thought. 

“Oh, uh, I don’t have an ironing board.” Max replied sheepishly. 

“How do you iron your clothes then?” Kit asked, grinning at the absurdity of it, already predicting his answer.

“I don’t?” He replied, also grinning back at her at his own privilege.

“So what, you get everything dry cleaned?” Max’s sheepish smile answered her question, and she rolled her eyes playfully before turning back to retrieve more boxes from her room. “You’d better bring it then.” She called over her shoulder, and heard the movement of the metal as a response. 

She rolled out another two suitcases, then carried out three boxes, placing them all neatly in a pile next to her kitchen bench. There were three boxes full of kitchen stuff, and Kit tried to understand the logic of what Max had chosen to pack and what he’d left. All her little nick-nacks were in the box, like a small porcelain pig she’d bought in Italy one year (which she noticed he’d put in a little plastic container to keep safe). He’d rinsed and packed the coffee pot, as well as her oven gloves, but had left the toaster and the kettle. He’d also packed all of her cleaning stuff, all the spray and wipe and glass cleaner and sponges, but had left her plates and cutlery. Her doona had been folded neatly and put in a pile with her cushions and things, and he’d even pushed her furniture off to one side of the living room to be out of the way for when people eventually came to fix the ecosystem festering in her walls. She wondered briefly how she didn’t hear him. 

“Looks good.” She said with finality. 

“You want anything else? I wasn’t sure, I just took what I don’t have.” Max replied, looking up from his phone.

“No, this all looks good. I guess I don’t really have that much stuff, hey?” She laughed to herself.

“I’m not complaining.” Max smiled as he hoisted up a box and walked towards the door, presumably ready to transport the goods. 

“Hang on, do you have a car space? I mean, obviously you do, but will I be able to park in your building? I guess it doesn’t really matter, I’m not driving anywhere, it just might be weird if my car’s still here when I’m living it yours-”

“I’ll sort it out.” Max said calmly, turning back to the door. 

“Okay, well, then, do we wanna load up my car? I’m assuming whatever vehicle you’ve brought won’t have a boot.” Kit continued as she rolled two suitcases behind him, a pillow from her bed under each arm. 

“What kind of car do you have?” Max asked, checking that Kit was holding her keys before shutting the door behind them.

“‘93 Volkswagen golf.” Kit grinned. She loved her car more than a lot of things in her life. 

“Why?” Max laughed. 

“Why not? It’s the best looking car in the world.” Kit said insistently. 

“No way man. Not even close.” He replied. 

“Fine, what is the best looking car in the world then?” She pestered as they entered the lift to go down 5 floors to the car park. She was grateful for the first time ever to be so low down in her building, despite not being high up enough to have a harbour view.

“Uhh, I don’t know. Whatever goes the fastest.” Kit just shook her head at the response. 

“You need to appreciate the character of the car. The personality.” 

“Nah.” Max said plainly. Kit walked through the rows of quite nice cars to find her own, the older model looking small compared to the other, far shinier cars adjacent to it. 

“God, that is a piece of shit.” Max said frankly. 

“Shut the fuck up. She’s a stunner.” Kit defended as she unlocked the boot, sliding both suitcases in on top of each other, Max placing his box next to them. 

“I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t break down before we drive back to mine.”

“You know what, who cares? That adds character too.” Kit replied. 

“You’re so weird.” He sighed, both in resignation of how long this could take and Kit’s strong opinions. 

The early morning had morphed into late by the time they’d loaded up both their cars (Max had to use his passenger seat), driven all of five minutes to his apartment, unloaded the cars, and finally settled onto Max’s couch to take a breather. Kit had only ever been in his house once before, the memory of her ex-boyfriend not hurting nearly as much as it used to. In fact, the memory actually made her smile faintly, thinking about how much she detested Max, and how now, as much as it still felt weird and unnatural, they could stand each other. They were friends , and it was Max of all people who had asserted it. 

“What are you thinking about?” Max asked, breaking her train of thought. 

“How much nicer your apartment is than mine.” Kit laughed as she lied cooly, turning to look at him. A stranger looking at them would instantly be able to tell that this was his apartment, not hers, his feet kicked up on the coffee table and his arms crossed comfortably across his chest, half-way sunk down into the couch. Kit was perched upright, not too sure what to do with herself. 

“Nah, I don’t like it that much.” Kit couldn’t help but roll her eyes, the beautifully huge windows in front of her reminding her of just how luxurious this place was. 

“Why? It’s beautiful.” 

“It doesn’t feel like home. I mean, I’m hardly ever here. You probably feel like that too, no?”

“Yeah, I s’pose.” They sunk into quiet again, both lost in thought, before Kit eventually remembered that she hadn’t actually told her building manager she’d moved out, something she thought he should probably know as soon as possible to try and get her apartment back to habitable again. “I’ve gotta call the guy that looks after my building, do you mind if I just…” Kit trailed off, gesturing to the couch they were currently sitting on. 

“Yeah, go for it, I was gonna make lunch anyway.” Max replied. He reached his arms up above his head in a stretch as he stood up, and Kit tried not to look too closely (or appreciatively) at the way his body moved, despite it being mostly swamped by warm clothing. 

“Kit, hello, how are you going?” Jean answered after a few rings.

“I’m great, actually. I’ve found somewhere else to live, and I’ve moved all my stuff out, well, most of it, my bed and couch and stuff is still there, but yeah.” She played with the hem of her shirt as she spoke. 

“Wonderful! That’s great Kit. I’ll keep an eye on your place, you know, with all the workers coming in and out, make sure no one takes anything.” Kit smiled to herself at the typical Monegasque elitism, but then realised that it was probably a good thing, remembering the TV and microwave she’d left behind. 

“Thanks Jean. Call me with any updates.” 

“Will do. Take care of yourself.” 

“Thanks.” And with that Jean disconnected the call. It was permanent now, she couldn’t go back. She was living with Max. Her. And Max. If you had told her that 6 months ago, she would’ve laughed and asked how big the gun was that was being held to her head when she agreed to it. Now though, as she looked over the back of the couch towards the large, open-plan kitchen, she didn’t think it would be too bad. The man was making her a sandwich, for god’s sake. The domestic image reminded her of one other person she needed to inform, and she opened the message app with a small smile on her face. 

moved in with max 🙄

danny ric 🤠 : knew it

danny ric 🤠 : what happened to the week??

mould was grossing me out

danny ric 🤠 : sure 😉

Kit just smiled at the message, locking her phone and leaning back on the couch, taking a deep breath for the first time in what felt like years. I’m such a weakling , she thought to herself in amusement, Max’s couch pillows ridiculously soft under her body.

Chapter Text

“This was downstairs for you.” Max muttered in his usual, I-just-woke-up tone, flinging a package down into Kit’s lap before flinging himself down on the couch next to her. They were both in their pyjamas, it being fairly early in the morning, but unlike Kit, Max had actually ventured to the shops in his, only replacing his ugg boots with real shoes at Kit’s insistence. 

“Oo, it’s like Christmas.” Kit replied.

Max sunk further down into the couch. “But you already know what it is.” 

“I still get to unwrap it. And, I know I’m going to like it.” Kit tore into the plastic mail bag and grinned at the sight of four skeins of coloured wool and a packet of crochet hooks.

“Are you 90 years old? Why did you buy wool?” Max asked gruffly. There was no joking tone in his voice, but over the past few weeks Kit had come to understand the difference between his genuine annoyance at something and his tone of voice when he was too tired to pretend to be nice. And right now it was the latter. 

“I’m gonna learn how to crochet.” She smiled, already taking the hooks out of more plastic and retrieving her phone to open the youtube video she’d saved of someone making a hat.

“You really have nothing better to do? Why not learn to cook?” Max grumbled.

“Ha, that’s rich coming from you buddy. Last time I checked, pasta and rice was better than uncooked pasta and rice, unless you happen to appreciate the flavours of that more.” She tied the slipknot the way the girl in the video did around her fingers, having to rewind and pause the video to actually see how she was doing it. 

“I told you, we can just order takeaway until lockdown’s over.” 

“That’s awful for your health. And also costs too much money for no good reason.” She’d made her first few stitches now, learning surprisingly quickly. Although, she’d been so embarrassingly excited for her wool and hooks to arrive that she’d been watching tutorial videos and crocheting time lapses for fun, not that she’d ever admit it.

“We cost too much money for no good reason. I don’t hear you complaining.” Kit snorted, and felt her smile linger as she heard Max do the same next to her. So focused on her task at hand, she didn’t even notice him reaching for the remote to turn the TV on until she heard the Netflix ‘bu-bum’ and looked up at the TV to see what he was putting on. 

“Watcha watching?” She asked, returning to her activity when he was taking too long to skim through everything. 

“I don’t fucking know. I just need something stupid to watch.” He groaned. 

“We could watch Friends?” Kit suggested. 

“Okay, not that stupid.” 

“Oh my god.” She said, an epiphany coming over her. 

“What?” Max replied, sounding semi-concerned. 

“We can watch Gilmore Girls.” Kit grinned.

“What is Gilmore Girls?” Max furrowed his brow and looked unimpressed with the suggestion. “Is that the one with the old people?” 

“No, dumbass. It’s about a mum and her daughter, I don’t know, it’s just a good show.” She asserted, grabbing the remote from him to search for the show. 

“What if I don’t wanna watch that, hmm?” 

“You don’t have a choice anymore.” Kit said happily as she pressed play on the first episode, the familiar music already making her excited to rewatch one of her favourite shows. 

“I see how it is. Come into my house, take over my TV, eat my food.”

“ Cook your food, please.” She smiled. The first few times Max had made that joke, Kit’s stomach had done an uncomfortable spin, but now she knew he wasn’t serious and that, realistically, she didn’t know how he’d survived those first two weeks without someone else keeping him in check, she just joined in. 

“Cook my food badly.” 

“Shut up and watch the show.” Kit smiled, recounting her stitches as she’d lost track during their little squabble.

“God, they’re talking too fast.” Max groaned, and Kit looked up from her project to see that he’d put the Dutch subtitles on.

“That’s the beauty of the show. Doesn’t leave any space for you to think about your own life.” 

“That’s really depressing.” 

“This,” Kit gestured to their current positions, “ is really depressing.”

“Not as depressing as me watching this girly shit while you crochet like an oma.” 

“Like a what?” Kit grinned at his Dutch slip up.

Max actually looked embarrassed. “Oh, grandma, sorry, the subtitles got me confused.” 

“Mm.” Kit hummed, continuing her crocheting. She’d actually made decent headway on the slightly lopsided brim of her little sunhat by the time the first episode came to an end, which also seemed to signal to Max that he’d been sitting still for too long and needed to start fidgeting. 

“Are you right?” Kit laughed as he swung his legs 90°, feet wiggling under her thigh.

“I’m bored.” He said plainly. His annoyance was clearly intensified by her non-response, as he sat up right next to her and watched her fingers move with the wool. “Can I try?” 

“Oh, okay, I see how it is. Dog it and now you wanna try? I don’t think so, oma.” 

“First of all, I would be an opa, and second, it’s still weird. But come on, let me have a go.” Max shuffled even closer and put his elbow in front of hers so that she couldn’t readily continue without making an effort to. 

“Fine, you’re not touching my masterpiece though. Here, have your own.” Kit retrieved another hook and ball of wool, giving the two to Max as she returned to her own work, having to turn to face him on the couch while sitting cross-legged in order to free her elbow. 

“Oh, come on. You have to teach me.” Kit gave Max a blank look, but eventually sighed and put her work down on the coffee table. 

“Okay, so, take the wool like this,” she demonstrated on her own skein, unravelling more wool to make it as if she hadn’t start yet, “put it over your index finger, then wrap it around and cross it over like this, then grab this bit here and pull it through to make a little loop.” Max’s fingers didn’t seem to be cooperating the way hers were, and for some reason the wool kept falling off. 

“No, okay, pull it further down your finger, and grab more when you pull it through, no, not like that, here-” Kit knew she’d be an awful primary school teacher from the way she couldn’t sit and be patient as he tried to figure it out, taking the wool off him to make the slipknot herself. 

“How did you do that so quickly?” Max said indignantly. 

“I’m just a Jack of all trades.” Kit grinned.

“Master of none.” Max said in return, and something in his tone was slightly sharper than before, almost igniting that spark of aggression she’d managed to ward off for so long, but then Max was taking the wool off her and looking expectantly for further guidance, and she managed to suppress any snarky comment that was about to leave her lips. 

“Okay, so now you take your hook in your right hand, you are right handed, right?” Max nodded obediently. “Yeah, so hold it like this in your right hand,” she demonstrated with her own hook, “and then loop it over and pull it through. No, you need to hold it tighter here, and then, no see, you’re gonna drop it if you do it like that.” 

This continued on for the better part of half an hour, Gilmore Girls amazingly fading into the background despite their incessant American chatter, with Max only growing more and more frustrated at the task. Unlike Kit, whose deft fingers could return to their work effortlessly when Max insisted ‘he could do it himself now’, even despite her lack of experience, Max seemed to be getting worse. His stitches were far too tight from how hard he was gripping the hook, and he kept losing his place, causing his little woollen square-thingy to look knotted and frumpy. 

“Max, you just need to relax.” Kit laughed as she noticed him huffing and puffing in frustration. 

“Fuck off. How am I supposed to relax with these annoying kutwijf and you yapping in my ears? Won’t leave me alone for two fucking seconds.” Max exploded, throwing his work down on the coffee table, storming off to his room upstairs and slamming the door loudly behind him. Kit sat in shock for a moment before bursting into uncontrollable giggling at the toddler tantrum she’d just witnessed. So she hadn’t imagined the dig in his voice before. He actually had the shits with her. 

Kit resumed her own crocheting as she listened to the show still playing on the TV like nothing had happened, but the fact that she had to keep her eyes trained on her lap meant that it gave her mind a little bit more room to wonder, only bombarded by rapid dialogue and not the visuals that accompanied it. She actually did feel slightly guilty, although she dissected the previous interaction and questioned why. He didn’t have to put the show on, he didn’t have to try and get involved in her thing, he chose to do those things. It felt a little bit nostalgic, to have the old Max back in such a fiery rage. Almost nice in a way. Familiar. 

Kit worked away steadily for another hour or so before her stomach rumbled and she decided to give her fingers a break and have some late breakfast. Keeping the show running in the background, Kit took out all the things she needed for scrambled eggs from Max’s fridge, hesitating over the carton but eventually plucking out another three eggs for the sulking boy in his room to accompany her two. It was quite meditative, whisking the egg and grating the cheese (she tried to be modest, considering they were supposed to be healthy athletes), moving the egg around the frying pan to get the fluffy scrambledness just right. 

She eyed the two plates, Max’s serving slightly larger than hers, and wondered what to actually do with his. She didn’t really feel like talking to him, but she’d made him food now, and she hated seeing food go to waste. Kit opened a few drawers in the kitchen until she landed on what she was looking for, a drawer full of random shit, eyes locking on a pen and a small notebook with Aston Martin marketing all over it. She smiled to herself softly as she scribbled out the note, folding it up and placing it on a part of the plate not in contact with egg. 

Hi Max

Sorry if I’m bugging you

I hope you like the eggs

I’ll stop being a koot-vay (I assume that means bitch?) but only if you stop being a sulky dickhead over some wool and a shitty TV show :))

Bon appetit!

Kit walked up the stairs and placed the plate, alongside a knife and fork, in front of Max’s door after checking that it did in fact open inwards and wouldn’t get his carpet all messy if he swung the it open in a fit of rage, before knocking a few times and heading back to the couch with her own food. She felt a little bit like she was coddling a child, but then again she didn’t think any mothers would be calling their children a dick, even if it was true. She didn’t turn around when she heard feet descending the stairs, nor did she say anything when, clearly after reading the note, Max walked over to the couch and sat down next to her, both eating their food to the soundtrack of Lorelai and Rory. 

“Sorry.” Max muttered eventually once both of their plates were empty. 

“It’s okay.” Kit said, unable to suppress a small laugh. 

“Shut up. I’m already embarrassed.” Max groaned, putting his face into his hands in shame

“Good, you should be. I’m sorry too. Just tell me when I’m being annoying next time instead of doing, whatever that was.” Kit laughed again as she waved her hands at his crestfallen figure. 

“Yeah, I’ll try.” He lifted his head out of his hands and leant back on the couch again, eyes trained on the TV despite Kit looking at him intently. “I’m not very good at, you know. Talking about, things like that.” 

“Really? Couldn’t tell, you’re usually so emotionally mature.” Kit said sarcastically, laughing as Max finally looked over at her, only so he could aim a shove at her shoulder. 

“I haven’t been that angry at you in a while. It was weird.” Max mused to himself. 

“Same. I nearly burst myself before when you called me a master of none.” Kit replied. 

“Nice, I was tryna make that one hurt.” Max asserted. 

“Don’t look too proud of yourself.” Kit rolled her eyes. A few more scenes passed on the TV where Kit deliberated bringing up the topic again, but eventually she just couldn’t help herself. “I can’t believe you got so mad over crocheting and Gilmore Girls .” She cackled as Max leant his head back and groaned, eyes closed in embarrassment. 

“Can we please stop talking about this?” 

“Only if you cook dinner tonight.”

“I don’t think either of us will enjoy that.” Max said pointedly. 

“Mm, true. I could teach you.” Kit half-laughed half-squawked as Max reached for a pillow and smacked her on the leg with it. 

“Let’s not teach anything for a while, ‘kay?” Max half-spoke, half-hummed. 

“Okay.” Kit sang, shuffling over on the couch so that their arms were pressed together. She didn’t know why she did it, the movement feeling instinctual at the time, and she felt a pang of regret as Max seemed to momentarily stiffen under her, but then he was extracting his arm and putting it around her shoulders and there was finally a feeling of mutual peace between them. 

“Hey Max?” Kit spoke once the credits of yet another episode began to roll optimistically before being skipped by the automatic ‘next episode’ countdown. 

“Yes?” He turned his head to look at her.

“Did you just not like the fact that I was better at something than you?” Kit half-smiled. 

“I thought we were going to stop talking about this?” Max grumbled, and Kit worried that she’d just lit the spark that would blow him up again until she realised that he hadn’t removed his arm from around her, and unless he was planning on using it to strangle her, that was probably a good sign. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. I’m just tryna psycho-analyse you.” Kit forced herself to smile wider. 

“You’re probably right, anyway.” He replied. “I’m not very good at losing.”

“You’re telling me.” Kit laughed, enjoying the feeling of his arm pulling her in tighter. 

“You know, I’m kind of happy, in a way. That we’re not racing, I mean.” Max continued. 

“Really? You’re the person on the grid I would’ve thought least likely to think that.” 

“I like being…friends, with you.” Max said, so tentatively that Kit thought he might be having a brain aneurysm and was forgetting how to speak. 

“You’re going soft.” Kit said, but she couldn’t stop herself from grinning. 

“Shut up.” He said sheepishly. 

“Well Maxie, you’re in luck, because I like being friends with you too. Astonishingly.” Kit laughed. 

“Even after I yelled at you?” 

“Even after you yelled at me.” Kit affirmed.

Max managed to sit still for a whole nother hour of vegetation, both of them enjoying their slow morning of watching TV, but eventually the fidgeting kicked in and Kit was worried she might be the one to start yelling from how much wiggling around he was doing. 

“Should we do some training?” She asked, and even though Max groaned at the idea he still hopped up with a spring in his step. 

“I can’t believe you made me do that.” Max groaned three hours later, their workout extended by 45 minutes because Kit had talked the man into doing pilates with her. Well, it was fairly easy once she used a bit of misogyny in her favour, implying that Max would be somehow inferior if he couldn’t keep up with ‘girls’ exercise’.

“It was fun, it’s good for your core.” Kit landed a soft punch on his stomach, the man pretending to fold in half in pain. 

“My core doesn’t help me drive a car.” Max replied as he lifted up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and Kit pretended not to notice the bare torso in front of her. 

“That’s what you think now, wait ‘till you get back in the sim after doing pilates with me everyday. I bet you’ll be better.” Kit said as they walked out of Max’s little workout room and into the kitchen, both needing to chug water after how much they’d sweat out. 

“Yeah? Bet me how much?” 

“A race win.” Kit grinned, running away from him as he got an evil little look on his face. They chased each other around the kitchen island until their already exhausted bodies couldn’t continue, both resting, panting, against the bench. For a second the proximity, the sweat, the eye contact, it all sent her back to Abu Dhabi. And terrifyingly, Kit actually had the inclination to do it all again. And not because she was angry, or because she needed to vent her frustration by kissing him so hard it hurt him (and she wanted it to). She just wanted to…be with him, like that. 

But then she blinked and he was upright again making them sandwiches, and a shiver went down her spine at the train of thought she’d just had. Absolutely not. No. No way. This was Max, the man so emotionally incompetent he’d thrown a hissy over an annoying TV show. It was just an intrusive thought as a byproduct of spending too much time with him and nobody else. Egh. No. Never. Not even if she actually wanted to.

Chapter Text

It was late one Monday afternoon when Kit realised that she’d been lying on the couch staring at the ceiling for 57 minutes straight according to her phone, and she hadn't seen Max in probably triple that. She was warm in the sun coming in through the windows, and she felt like a cat, curled up in a pool of light, practically purring in comfort. Yet still, she’d broken the daze she’d fallen into and was now acutely aware of the fact she was doing nothing. 

So, for the first time in almost two months of living together, Kit decided that she was going to actively seek out Max’s company. That sounded bad, but weirdly it was true. They usually woke up at similar times everyday, so they would eat breakfast together and watch a bit of telly. Kit would do a crossword or crochet or read at the same time and Max would sit, sunken in the couch, eyes trained blearily on the screen. One of them might go on a run, given they weren’t both allowed to leave the house at once, and go to the shops on the way back if they needed something. Then come home, train (separately if their physios wanted to do a session over zoom, together if not), eat lunch, and then they’d split up for the afternoon. Sometimes one or both of them would have actual work to do, although usually it was just a PR zoom call for the benefit of desperate, content-less fans with no races to watch, but those were insignificant in comparison to their old hectic schedules. Max would usually reappear when he wanted dinner, and then disappear again, not to be seen until the next morning. It was all unspoken, but weirdly it worked well. Kit liked the fact that it didn’t feel awkward, their lack of interaction outside of the morning and mealtimes. 

But right now, she couldn’t think of a single thing she felt like doing, and although it seemed like she was breaking some kind of law, disobeying their silent routine, she still walked up the stairs of his apartment, the second floor home to the bedrooms and Max’s gaming room. She nearly backtracked to go to her own room and just find a book to read, but just the thought of doing so was mind numbing, so instead she knocked on the door in between their respective bedrooms and waited for a response. 

“Hey, guys, just gimme a sec.” She heard him say, and seconds later the door opened inwards to show Max, backlit by dim LEDs and multiple monitors shining brightly. “Hey?” He said in surprise. 

“Hey, sorry, I’m just bored, I don’t know, thought you might wanna do something? If you’re busy though, it’s fine, I don’t…” Kit trailed off, now feeling like she was truly invading his privacy. 

“Yeah, sure, we can hang out. The boys are getting on my fucking nerves anyway.” Max went back to his extensive gaming setup and said a quick farewell into his headset, crackly and quiet groans coming out of the small speakers before Max disconnected from whatever call they were on. Kit hadn’t moved from her place in the doorway, the dark room marking her feel like she was entering into some kind of lair. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He laughed from his chair. Kit joined in the laughter and finally crossed the threshold, curling herself up onto a couch facing a very large TV, identical to the one downstairs. She smiled to herself at the thought of little teenage Max getting his first big paycheck and spending it on all this shit, it truly was an adolescent boy’s paradise. 

“So this is what you’re doing up here all the time, huh.” Kit said, more to herself than Max. 

“Uh, yeah. Why, d’you wanna play…something?” Max said awkwardly. 

“The only video game I know how to play is Mario Kart. I know,” She said quickly, seeing Max’s mouth open to retort, “I know it’s ironic.” 

“I have Mario Kart.” Max grinned, and he didn’t even wait for a response before he stood up and walked over to the TV, fiddling with wires and remotes until everything seemed to be plugged in and functioning, a small blue controller thrust into Kit’s hand expectantly. She’d never felt so old, the little piece of plastic completely different to the chunky Wii remotes she used to play with in primary school. 

“Okay, I take it back. I knew how to play Mario Kart 10 years ago.” Kit winced as Max finally turned the TV on, the bright luminescence painful against the dark backdrop of the rest of the room. 

“It’s fine, it’s like the easiest video game to play.”

“You might find that even the easiest video game could be a struggle for me.” She said, eyeing off the way he flicked through all the different settings with ease, eyes trained straight on the TV. 

“You’ll be fine.” 

She was not in fact, fine. She could hardly drive for 30 seconds without falling off the edge of something or somehow ending up the wrong way round or getting a red shell up her bum, and even the frequent rockets she was getting (because of how far behind she was) weren’t enough to help. Max, of course, won every race, and Kit had to suppress the very real annoyance at the fact that he was good at this too. 

“You’re such a nerd.” Kit stated after Max won the sixth race in a row, her coming in 12th as usual. 

“Sorry you’re bad.” Max shot back, quickly selecting another track that looked like it had a lot of places Kit could fall off in. Amazing. 

“No but seriously, how many hours do you spend doing this a week?” Kit asked, eyes zeroed in on her little turtle starting from the back of the grid. 

“Mario Kart? None, I’m not a child.” Max replied, and yet the way he whispered ‘yes!’ to himself as the flower sprouting out of the back of his car gobbled someone up behind him only argued the contrary. 

“No, I mean, video games.” Kit rolled her eyes, but that lapse in concentration caused her tiny car to go careening off into the abyss, and she gripped the controller slightly tighter out of frustration. 

“Well, now that we can’t race, like, a lot. But usually not that many. Okay, maybe quite a bit, but it’s fun. And I play lots of racing games, that’s, you know, good.” Kit looked over at him and saw his eyes staring at the TV, unblinking, like he was driving a real race car. The observation was funny enough to excuse her turtle falling off the edge again. 

“Mm, very productive.” Kit hummed. 

“It’s relaxing-fuck!” Max yelled as his car got rattled by a blue shell, and Kit actually felt her body jolt.

“You’re so scary.” Kit laughed, pottering along in last place until finally they’d done their three laps and the race was over. “Alright, I think that’s enough for me.” Kit stretched her arms up above her head, controller waving around haphazardly as she tried to stretch out every vertebra equally. 

“Giving up so easily?” Max said, but he was clearly done too as he stood up to turn off the TV. Kit felt the controller be plucked out of her hand, Max securing them wherever they were before. 

“There’s nothing to give up. My last place will not be missed.” Kit replied. She felt herself lie back on the couch instead of getting up and going back down stairs, the latter being what her brain thought she was going to do. Clearly her body had other plans. 

“Comfy?” Max grinned as he turned back around to see her mildly sprawled out on the two-seater. 

“Yes.” Kit mumbled. The lack of blue light streaming from the TV made the room dim again, and the dark inviting her to get sleepy. 

“We could watch a movie up here or something?” 

“Scared to leave your den?” Kit grinned sleepily. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Kit lifted up her legs to allow him to sit down but swiftly placed them back on Max’s lap, his left hand coming to rest on her shin as his right turned the TV back on again and began to flick through Netflix. “Any requests?” He asked.

“Uhh…I dunno.” Kit replied after a long pause in which her brain forgot every single movie it had ever seen or ever wanted to see.

“Helpful.” Max grumbled, but the edges of his mouth were curled up, like he was trying hard not to smile but couldn't resist. Kit let a laugh bubble out of her chest as she saw what he was typing into the search bar. 

“What?” Max replied incredulously.

“ Talladega nights? You have such a one track mind.” 

“It's a good movie.” Max defended whiningly, but Kit noticed him clicking up towards the backspace button to type something else in, and felt a little pang of something without a name shoot through her heart.

“I’m just joking, I actually do like that movie.” Kit insisted, pulling her feet forward slightly to wiggle her heels into his thigh to reinforce her point.

“So hypocritical.” Max rolled his eyes as he clicked play and settled down into the couch. Kit felt guilty for a moment that she was the one lying down when it was his room, the feeling that she was intruding in his apartment not yet having fully subsided, but the way his fingers tapped gently on her leg was enough reassurance that he was comfy, if a bit fidgety.

Despite the movie theatre lighting, Max turned the volume down to be just below average, seeing how small the room was, and the familiar opening scene played out across the large TV softly. What was tapping had now turned into more of a smoothing motion, Max’s hands clearly needing something to occupy themselves with and Kit’s bare legs were the perfect canvas. At first it was just his flat palm, then it was his fingertips. What felt like random swirly patterns, upon increased focus, actually turned out to be words. Kit smiled to herself as she mentally tried to guess what he was spelling out, physically having to choke down a laugh when she felt him write redbull . Max shot her a bemused expression at the noise, but Kit just grinned in return and moved her haze back to the screen. In all honesty, she wasn't paying much attention to the movie, and soon the feeling of Max’s hands gingerly tracing over her legs and the dark lighting made her eyes droop shut, that morning's training catching up to her earlier than usual.

Max didn't know exactly what point he stopped paying attention to the movie, but it was somewhere between the opening music of the movie and the first words that left Will Ferrell’s mouth. He hadn't been surprised by Kit’s physical touch in casually laying her legs across his lap, in fact he'd begun to realise that she was a fairly touchy person on a regular basis, and had even managed to stop freezing up so obviously every time she touched him. And yet, each time she did so, every time she sat a bit closer to him on the couch or poked him softly to punctuate her teasing, a little voice in the back of his head (that sounded concerningly similar to Daniel) brought him back to Abu Dhabi. But then his own subconscious argued back, reminding him that she was the one who pushed him away. That she was the one, no matter how mumbled or rushed, had said, had repeated , that they shouldn't. 

Max knew she was right, it wasn’t like anything between them would ever work. They were teammates, and as much as the last few months had been strangely peaceful, he knew that as soon as they were back on the track everything would crumble again, and it was better to lose a friendship than, well, more than a friendship. He didn't even know what he was thinking in that moment, back in Abu Dhabi. He’d examined the whole thing so many times over and over again in his head, and yet there was a key blank spot in his memory. The bit where he actually fucking kissed her.

He’d been so angry, so bloody angry. He was practically seeing red. And she was there right next to him, stabbing the knife deeper and deeper, and just when he thought she couldn't do anymore damage she started to twist it. And that was when he snapped. He had smashed himself onto her with so much force he would’ve felt like a horrible person afterwards had he not felt her push back just as hard. Fuck, he would never forget it. How she gripped onto his shoulders like she wanted to leave a bruise. 

Kit’s legs shifted in his lap and Max realised that his hand had grown still and was now holding onto her leg slightly too firm to be normal. He looked over to her face, ready to smile and try to brush it off as just him being fidgety, only to see that his non-verbal excuses weren't necessary. Her eyes had closed, and her chest rose and fell steadily, clearly fast asleep. It was moments like these where his heart seemed to contract, tightening up into a tiny little ball. On one hand, he wished he wasn't, as Kit would say, so Max . He wished he didn't see everything besides winning as secondary, as sacrifices he was all too willing to make. He wished she didn't feed into his anger, his pettiness, he wished she was more like Daniel, who would laugh off his teenage mood swings and eventually managed to turn rivalry into friendship. But then he thought about it more, and realised that was impossible. Without his personality, without his drive, he never would've gotten to the place he is now, and it was the same for Kit. She wouldn't have outperformed him multiple times if she hadn't disobeyed team orders, if she wasn't just as determined as him. And so he reached the same conclusion as he did every time he indulged himself in this memory, allowed his mind to follow this all too familiar train of thought. He would enjoy it while it lasted, whatever semblance of friendship they’d managed to achieve. But at the end of the day, he would give up anything for a championship, and he knew she would too.

Kit shifted again, and although she was murmuring something unintelligible, Max felt as if he’d been caught in the act, as though she could both read his mind and do it while she was asleep. He’d seen the movie playing softly on the TV in front of him many times, but he still hadn’t paid any attention to it thus far and so retrieved his phone from his pocket. He moved so gingerly he thought his hand might never make it to the side of his track pants, but eventually he managed to extract the piece of metal and turn it on. 18:36, his lockscreen displayed. This was usually around the time where he’d descend the stairs to be met with the view either of Kit beginning to make their dinner or sitting at the kitchen bench, ready to instruct him because she wasn’t in the mood to cook. He knew it was disgustingly domestic, and had he told anyone just how well they’d settled into the routine of being roommates, he was sure he’d be met with a quizzical stare and a laugh of disbelief. 

Not daring to get up and start cooking himself, both for fear of waking Kit and for burning down his apartment, he opened up UberEats to order them both dinner. Kit’s opposition to takeaway was largely health-centric, so he tried to order them both relatively healthy meals from a local restaurant. He debated over choosing fish or chicken for Kit before remembering that she’d make herself salmon and rice for lunch and had an intense aversion to eating the same thing twice in one day, so he clicked on the chicken dish and finalised the payment, the driver expected to arrive with their food in twenty minutes. In the meantime, there wasn’t much for him to do other than vaguely pay attention to the movie and scroll through his phone. 

As much as Max’s screen time was through the roof, very little of it was actually spent on his phone. He probably spent more hours a week on pointless media zoom calls than he did on social media. He loved a good mindless scroll, but it was slightly disconcerting to see so much content about yourself from so many different perspectives, almost like you were two different people. Still, every once in a while never hurt too much, especially not now that there was no racing and so he hadn't upset any mass fanbases by running their driver off the track. Instagram was littered with the usual pointless crap of people’s dogs and work-from-home setups and their dinner, and Max found himself feeling stir crazy just by looking at it. Obviously he and Kit were following all the rules (except for living together, they’d never quite established whether or not her moving was allowed) but they never made a big deal out of it. They never acted like this was permanent, and that's why it never seemed so bad. Although, the fact that lockdown ending meant Kit being able to find somewhere proper to live and moving out did tug at his chest painfully. He hadn't asked her if she'd still been looking, mainly because he didn't want to know. Ignorance was bliss.

“Mmm.” Max turned his head at the sound, looking down to see Kit shuffling around but still not opening her eyes. She can't have been that comfortable, neck at an awkward angle against the small cushion with her arms resting t-rex like against her stomach. She murmured again, this time sounding more like a word than a non-descript grumble.

“Mmm…Max.” Max was hearing things. There was no way. Thankfully for his heart which was now beating out of his chest, Kit stayed quiet for the remainder of her nap, but that didn't erase what he'd heard. Or what he thought he'd heard. An internal debate raged inside him on whether it was worse if she'd actually said his name or if he'd heard something that wasn't there because he wanted her to have said his name. He was saved from his own thoughts by his phone buzzing to tell him that the food was there, and now he could focus on moving Kit’s legs without waking her instead of his current raging mental battle. 

“Mmmrghm.” Kit grumbled in unconscious protest at the movement.

“Our food’s here.” Max said quietly as he squeezed her leg softly. He didn't know if she'd actually heard him until eventually, eyes still closed, she retracted her legs back towards her chest, freeing Max from the couch. “Be back in a sec.” He said as he tapped her twice on the knee before standing up, receiving a low hum in reply.

He grabbed a mask from the kitchen before descending to the lobby to retrieve their food, the surgical material creating a strange sensation on his very sparse stubble, because shaving didn't seem like a necessity when the only person who would see it was Kit, and she loved an excuse to call him scruffy. A small part of him knew that that was why he had stopped shaving everyday.

He was slightly taken aback when he returned to the apartment and saw Kit pottering around the kitchen, retrieving two plates and utensils for both of them. 

“Good sleep?” Max laughed as he bypassed the kitchen to the living room, setting down the bag of food on the coffee table.

“Shut the fuck up.” Kit rolled her eyes, coming to join him on the couch. She looked exactly the same as she had before her little siesta, except for the fact that she was rubbing sleepily at her eyes intermittently and letting out a yawn in between bites. 

“Thanks for getting dinner.” Kit said over the soft news coverage playing on the TV. 

“No worries, I didn’t want to wake you up just to have to eat my cooking.” Max replied. He stopped himself from saying that he had wanted to stay with her on that couch for as long as possible. 

“Very considerate of you.” Kit smiled. Max couldn’t help but leave his gaze trained on her face, and even the bemused look she gave him when she noticed wasn’t enough to deter him. 

“What, something on my face?” Kit said jokingly. 

“No, I’m just…thinking.” Max replied. “Do you talk in your sleep?” 

He hadn’t even thought before he’d asked, it just came out. In her sleepy state, Kit took a moment to process the question, and Max thought he saw her face drop minutely before she returned to looking amused. 

“I don’t think so. Maybe I was just having a really good dream.” Kit grinned, and Max’s stomach dropped what she was insinuating. But no, that wasn’t a possibility. She probably hadn’t even said his name, he had just misheard. He hummed in faux-nonchalant acknowledgement and returned his attention to his dinner. He’d made it a month and a half of such close proximity to this girl, and this wasn’t the first time he was sent down this kind of spiral. He would just have to keep pushing it down, but that was okay. He’d spent his whole life repressing all his emotions, what was one more?

Kit spent the rest of the night sitting next to Max on the couch, willing her heart to stop thumping away like a bass drum. He’d heard her say something in her sleep. And what had she been dreaming about? Him, of-fucking-course. As far as she knew, she’d never talked in her sleep before, so what better time to start than during her nap sprawled across his lap as she happened to be dreaming about him. 

And it wasn’t just a dream about him, because she’d had tons of those. Dreams where he was winning, where she was running late or had forgotten something for the race, where he’d crashed into her but she was getting the blame; things her subconscious was really concerned about. But this dream was different. 

It was early morning and Kit was cooking breakfast, eggs or toast or something. She was in her old apartment, but for some reason it wasn’t her apartment, it was Max’s. Nothing showed her that, but she just knew the way you just know things are true in your dreams. They were about to go racing, maybe. Or they were going to do something together, something for the team. 

She turned around and saw Max coming out of her bedroom. In her dream that wasn’t strange, because it was his apartment. He walked over and put his arm around her waist, standing next to her as she continued to make the food. It was warm and nice and safe, tight but not too tight. She felt overwhelmingly happy.

He leant down so that his forehead was resting on her shoulder and she could feel his hair tickle her cheek. Her hand slid around his waist too, coming to grip lightly onto his shirt, and she felt like she had won the lottery. Like she knew this wasn’t real, like it was so exciting to be able to feel this because it was so novel, all she wanted but couldn’t have. 

And then she had felt Max move her legs, and as much as she tried to fall back asleep, the dream was over. But the worst part was that Max had heard her say something, something while she was asleep. At least it wasn’t a wet dream , she thought pessimistically. Trying to draw a positive from it all, at the very least she was no longer confused about how she felt towards him. None of this just-intrusive-thoughts or emotions-boiling-over. No. She liked him, she properly, seriously liked him. When she woke up she actually felt sad that she couldn’t get that moment back. The feeling of his body on hers, and not in some rage-filled sexually charged moment of weakness. It was purposeful and caring. And worst of all, it was Max. Fuck. Fuck. She fucking liked Max, and she couldn’t even deny it anymore. She cast a cursory glance over at him, eyes trained on the TV, and made a pledge to herself that she couldn’t say this to anyone. As soon as she told another person, even if it was just Ceci, it became a problem, became something to be acted upon. And that was an impossibility. So she would have to be content with this: mutual, friendly amicability. She could do that.

Chapter Text

Since her emotional epiphany, Kit had been spending every waking minute trying not to let on how she felt about Max, to Max. Easier said than done, given their current living arrangements. She was helped in part by the fact that, prior to her late onset clairvoyance, they had been fairly close anyway, so giving him a soft push on the arm when she was teasing him about his bed head didn’t automatically give away her secret, but she was still slightly more tentative that before. However, Max didn’t seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. If anything, he was getting friendlier by the day. It was almost like his weird little gaming cave had been the last barrier between them, and now that Kit had entered into it they could properly be friends now. 

While before she didn’t see Max outside of their morning routine and mealtimes, he’d become more and more partial to spending time with her throughout the day. They were still fairly lazy once their workouts had been completed in the morning, but instead of disappearing off to play video games or watch TV, Max would loiter around downstairs trying to find something for them to do together. They went through a short scrabble phase, although Max was at a slight disadvantage and kept using Dutch words when he felt as though he was losing too badly. Then they decided to try and learn Spanish, but quickly discovered that Max couldn’t roll his Rs and hence that was abandoned. Then finally they attempted a veggie garden on Max’s balcony which, although the few hours it took to set up were fun, involved a lot more waiting around watching literal grass grow than anticipated. So now they were sat on the couch once again, half-watching TV and half discussing their dinner plans. 

“Pasta?” Max suggested as he scrolled through his phone for inspiration. 

“I’m sick of pasta. I need to expand my culinary horizons.” Kit argued back. 

“How about maple mustard pork belly?” 

“Jesus, bit of a 180 there. What are you looking at anyway?” Kit laughed before taking his phone, trying to ignore the flash of warmth as their hands brushed as she did so. She couldn't actually read anything because it was all in Dutch, but as she scrolled through she figured out that it was the ‘dinner’ section of a recipe website. “I cannot cook any of this.”

“Well I’ll help, obviously.” Max said as he reached for the remote and flicked through the channels, trying to get away from a motorsport show that had just started playing. As much as they were missing racing, no amount of nostalgia could get them to voluntarily watch other people discussing their careers. 

“Oo, this doesn't look too hard.” Kit suggested, pointing at some kind of chicken tray bake thing. 

“Let me see.” Max took the phone back and began to read the recipe, Kit’s eyes floating back towards the TV. He’d clearly gotten distracted trying to find a real show to watch, and a Nigella rerun was playing. Kit grinned at the irony. “This is too hard, and we don't have like, any of the ingredients.”

“Why is it too hard? Too hard for you, or too hard for me?” Kit interrogated.

“There's all this grating and frying and layering and shit.”

“You can be my sous-chef?” Kit said hopefully. The discussion of food was making her start to feel quite hungry now, and if they didn't pick something soon it would be an age before they ate.

“There's also a lot of zucchini in it.” Max replied, a knowing smile on his face.

“Oo, yeah no, okay, hard pass on that one.” 

On the TV, Nigella was assembling a beef salad that was glistening perfectly under the studio lights in her faux-homey kitchen. It made Kit’s stomach rumble, and she couldn't help but laugh at Max’s disgusted expression.

“What? I’m hungry. Why don't we just make that, it looks healthy enough.” Kit suggested, gesturing at the screen in front of her.

“And minimal cooking, I could probably manage not to burn the meat.” Max nodded along.

“Hmm, I think not. You can cut the veggies.” 

“Hey! I could totally cook the meat. I’m a man, it's what we do.” Max said incredulously. Kit had stood up from the couch purposefully and Max followed her into the kitchen, staring as she began to unload ingredients from the fridge.

“I’d rather have it a few shades lighter than black, if you don't mind.” 

“So mean to me.” 

“You’ll live.”

Kit plonked two carrots, a head of lettuce and a lemon on a chopping board and gestured at Max to begin sous-cheffing wordlessly. 

Max rolled his eyes but still opened the draw of utensils obligingly. “Oh, I see how it is now, I am just your slave, right?” 

“Yep. When we get back to racing, you can attest your health to me, thank you very much.” Max grumbled incomprehensibly, and the pair fell into silence. Nigella was cooking something else on the TV now, but Kit hadn’t really needed to watch for their salad recipe anyway, once she had the idea she was happy to just make up the rest herself. After a couple of months of cooking most nights, she’d semi-learnt what flavours tasted nice together, at least in tandem with pasta and/or rice. 

Nigella’s voice, as soothing as it was, was beginning to grate on Kit’s ears slightly, but she’d already started cutting a slab of steak into smaller, bite-sized pieces and didn’t want to get meat juices all over her phone to put some music on. Max, already struggling just to peel the carrots, was positioned on the other side of the kitchen right next to her phone, and Kit internally debated how likely it was that he would see something incriminating on there if she asked him to unlock it for her. She still hadn’t told anyone about her small (tiny, miniscule, microscopic, irrelevant) emotional crisis, not even her mother, who only watched the beginning of every race and hardly knew Max’s name, but even still. He could see something that would give it away. 

Embarrassingly, Kit had taken to watching the occasional video of herself. Well, that was a lie. Of herself and Max. Daniel wasn’t lying when he said that those compilations were entertaining, and every once in a while she found herself stuck in a rabbit hole of videos and edits, usually all replaying the same selection of clips but all equally as addictive. She was pretty sure it was some kind of weird coping mechanism to both remind herself that this was her teammate and thus that it was wildly inappropriate for anything to happen between them, and also that their newfangled friendship was an anomaly, and not their standard mode of operating. And the idea of Max somehow seeing something that would indicate that she’d been watching those videos…well, all of it was just her overactive imagination, but she wouldn’t risk it anyway. 

“Can I use your phone to put some music on? That woman is seriously annoying me.” Max asked nonchalantly. At least the debate was solved. 

“Yeah, go for it.” Idiot, idiot, you stupid fucking idiot. 

“Any requests?” 

Get off my phone, please, oh god, he could be looking at anything. “Nah, just whatever you’re in the mood for.”

“Um, let me see…” 

Why is he taking so long, what if he’s in my camera roll, fuck, what if he sees that screenshot I took of a blurry ass picture of us sitting in the paddock in Melbou-

“Coldplay?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Kit nearly sighed audibly from relief, and it took her a few moments for her to realise what he’d actually said. “Why are you playing Coldplay?”

“I don’t know, you were listening to something else starting with C, it was right there.” Max replied defensively as Yellow began to play through his extensive sound system, not too loud but with perfect balancing of treble and bass. Kit was going to have to ask him where he bought it when she eventually had to move out on her own again. 

The thought of doing so made her stomach drop. “So creative.” She quipped in return, but it was lacklustre compared to her usual teasing. Max didn’t seem to notice, his carrots proving to be a formidable opponent, and Kit tried to focus on the music and the food and stop over thinking every little thing either of them said or did. It was too exhausting for a Wednesday night. 

Chris Martin had just begun to sing about stars when Max signalled that he’d completed his simple task by plonking down a bowl full of washed and chopped veggies on the bench next to Kit’s left elbow. He leant back on the counter so that they were standing directly next to each other but facing opposite directions, and Kit tried not to let her breath hitch as she reached up to turn on the range hood. Max didn’t say anything so she didn’t either, and after a few moments of nothing but the sound of sizzling steak, she snuck a look to her left to see what he was doing. 

His blue eyes were already looking at her, and Kit nearly jumped out of her skin as they made contact with her own gaze. “Watcha looking at me for?” 

She watched him bristle at being called out, and instantly regretted doing so. “Nothing.” 

“Mm, sure.” 

“Do you want me to have a reason?” 

“No.” Kit couldn’t help but smile at their petty bickering.

“Go on, what do you want me to say?” He was smiling now too. They had to do something to entertain themselves all day. 

“I want you to say that I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.” Kit grinned, only half-joking. She turned the stove down and turned to face him, her right hip pressing mildly uncomfortably into the corner of the bench. 

Max turned to face her too. “Sorry, but you know what they say. Honesty is the best policy.”

“Well, you’re still lying, because you said you didn’t have a reason for looking at me.” 

“How do you know that was a lie?”

“Because you don’t stare at someone for no reason, now do you Maxie?” 

“Maybe I do.” 

“Maybe you’re a weirdo then.” 

“Maybe you’re the weirdo because you care so much.” 

“I just wanna know why you would be looking at me, that’s all. I mean, you see me all day, what was special about just then?” 

“You had something on your face.” 

“No I didn’t.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because I would’ve felt it.” 

“Not if it was like, a tiny tiny piece of lettuce.” 

“Why would I have a tiny piece of lettuce on my face?” 

“Maybe I put it there.” 

“You put a tiny piece of lettuce on my face?” 

“No, but I could’ve.”

“But you didn’t.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“You just told me so yourself.”

“Maybe I was lying, you already said that I’m a liar.” 

“You won’t be a liar if you say I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.” 

“Fine, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.” 

“Thank you.” 

Kit didn’t really know what else to say, but she didn’t want to turn back to the food. Didn’t want to turn away from Max, more specifically. He was looking at her so expectantly, but she didn’t know what exactly he was expecting. She tried to forget the way her stomach had flipped when he’d called her beautiful, even if it wasn’t real. She remembered Brazil, when they’d stood like this, leant against a door frame. Then they were drunk, and then they hated each other. But she remembered that even then she’d still felt like this. Like she was holding her breath, like she was waiting for him to do something, anything. Like all the air around them had stopped moving. 

And then Max cleared his throat and took a purposeful step away from her, his hands landing on either side of the salad bowl, fingers beginning to tap. “Um, should we keep cooking now?” 

“Well, you haven’t been doing much cooking, but yeah, sure.” Kit laughed half-heartedly. Fuck. 

They ate their dinner in partial silence, the music and TV still filling in for ambience, but no conversation passed between them. It was a nice salad, but Kit found that her appetite was lost after just half a plate. She was trying so hard to forget that Max was seated next to her at the kitchen bench, but it was like his body was radioactive and emanating energy towards her. Her fork scraped unpleasantly on the ceramic plate as she pushed her food around, and she cringed as she saw Max’s head turn towards her in her peripheral vision. 

“You okay? Sorry I didn’t really do much to help, but that’s probably why it’s nice.” Max tried to chuckle at his own joke to alleviate some of the tension, but if anything it only highlighted the unspoken words in the air between them. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just uh, not really that hungry.” Kit heard her own voice, heard how much she sounded like a sulking teenager. She suddenly had the very real desire to be alone, back at her own apartment, but that was unfair on Max who had done nothing wrong and was just trying to be nice. For once, she was the one with an unreasonably sour disposition. 

“I’m sorry if I, uh, no, you know what, nevermind.” Max pushed his stool back from the bench and stood up to round the island, rinsing his plate off in the sink. 

“What?” They were now opposite each other, separated by a metre of countertop. 

“Just, um, before, I mean, I know we said, well, I said that we didn’t need to talk about it, but, no, it’s stupid, nevermind.” Max shook his head at himself as the water continued to run over his now clean plate. 

“Max,” Kit said seriously, leaning up and out of her stool to turn off the tap and gain his attention, “spit it out.” 

“I’m sorry about before, if I made you uncomfortable, with the staring and stuff.” He looked down again, hands resting on the edge of the basin, fingers tapping away once again. 

“I was only joking, you know? About you looking at me, I was just, you know, talking for the sake of it.” 

Max reached up to scratch the back of his neck, still not looking up. “No, after. When we were, you know…” He gestured vaguely to the other side of the kitchen that housed the stove. 

“Oh, well, that was…” Kit trailed off similarly. “That was nothing, right?”

“Yeah, right.” 

They fell back into silence. 

“Max-”

“Kit-”

The pair looked at each other and began to laugh.

“You go first.” Max said.

Kit’s mind fell blank. She didn’t actually know what she was going to say, she just felt the need to alleviate some of the weird, awkward tension. “Do you wanna watch TV?” 

Max just smiled softly, and his shoulders seemed to fall, probably imperceivable to anyone who wasn’t staring at him with the same intensity as Kit. “Sounds good.” 

And so they watched TV. They watched some stupid movie about American highschoolers and sat just far enough apart that they weren’t touching but Kit was still too scared to make sudden movements lest Max remembered she was there and moved further away from her. The hairs were standing up on her arms and every time he stood up to go to the bathroom or fill up his glass with water her stomach dropped and her body relaxed simultaneously. She both hated the proximity and relished in the warmth radiating from his skin. The rise and fall of his chest against the fabric of his t-shirt, the way he tapped the arm of the couch during a particularly slow scene, his socked feet resting one on top of the other up on the coffee table. She was a nutcase. 

“Kit?” Max asked as the credits rolled.

“Hmm?” 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Kit looked over to be met with those eyes again. Those fucking eyes. Those eyes had stared her down across the paddock, made her feel like she wanted to rip her own hair out, made her want to scream, made her actually scream. She didn’t feel like that now though. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” She smiled, but she was far from it. 

He hadn’t done anything to his hair that morning, as no one would be seeing him except for Kit, and it lay flat with individual locks sticking up at random angles. She wanted to reach out and touch it, to lay it flat, to twist the pieces between her fingers. 

“Now you’re the one staring.” Max said softly. 

Kit dragged her eyes back down to his face. “I’m still not used to seeing your hair.” 

“It’s been two months of no hat.” He patted his head for good measure, and Kit instantly missed the vertical strands. 

“Still a seventh wonder of the world.” They fell silent again, still looking at each other. As awkward as it would be afterwards, Kit understood why they kept doing it. It was nice, comfortable. She liked looking at him like this, no barriers up. She shuffled down slightly on the couch so that she could rest the side of her head on the back cushions, arms crossed over her chest. Max followed, twisting his body to face hers so that one of his knees had to follow suit, and it knocked against Kit’s in the process. He left it there, the knobbliness of the joint pressing firmly but comfortably into her fleshy lower thigh, just above her own knee. 

“What are we doing?” Max asked, even softer than before. 

“I have no idea.” Kit replied, practically whispering but unable to keep a smile from her face. 

Max tensed momentarily, and Kit felt dread flow through her until his jaw unclenched and he sank fractionally lower into the couch again. “You remember Brazil?” 

Kit’s heart grew ten times bigger at the idea that their current position reminded Max of that night too. “Of course I do.” 

“I don’t think I was drunk.” 

“I don’t think I was either.” They fell silent again. Max’s eyes roamed her face, looking for something but not finding a target to rest on. One of his hands was resting on the back of the couch, near Kit’s eye level, and she noticed the fingers twitch lightly before he curled them into a fist. The music of the credits tapered out, only to be replaced by another song to background the endless scroll of names moving in the corner of her vision. The fingers relaxed flat again. She flicked back to Max’s eyes, and couldn’t really tell what he was looking at. It was something near her face, but not quite on it. 

His other hand, the one that she hadn’t been observing like a rare breed of exotic animal, came up and carefully lifted her hair off of her shoulder and moved it backwards, it now resting on her back. She was wearing a singlet top, and the feeling of her hair brushing her exposed shoulder nearly stopped her heart. She would probably die when, no, if Max actually touched her. His hand went back to rest in his lap, and she thought that he may have overexerted himself with the knee. It was still resting against her leg, solid and unmoving. She could feel the small, blond hairs brushing her skin around the edge of the patch of contact. 

“Lando and Carlos aren’t here this time.” Kit said. Her voice nearly cracked from how quietly she was talking. 

“That would be weird.” Max smiled. 

“Mm, very weird.” Kit hummed. “As weird as this?”

“No, not quite as weird as this.” 

Kit could’ve been a statue. She felt as though she couldn’t move. Just like Brazil, there was a strange sensation in the air over her shoulder where his hand had been. 

Max scoffed, and Kit felt the air brush over her face. “You just won’t give in first, will you?” 

“No.” She grinned.

“Well, I guess it’s okay to lose, sometimes.” Max’s knee left its position and Kit momentarily mourned the loss of contact, the loss of warmth. And then he was everywhere. One of his hands came to her neck, the other on her waist, both igniting something so hot within her that she was sure they’d leave imprints in her skin. And then his mouth was on hers, just as warm and soft as Abu Dhabi but without any of the anger behind it, and that almost made it more overwhelming. Just the motions of him moving softly against her was enough to make her stomach do backflips and her eyes to fall closed. Her hands made their way around his waist, scrunching up his t-shirt softly. She didn’t want to hurt him this time, she just wanted to feel him. To ground herself to him like he was her lifeline and she was tumbling out in space. 

He was holding her like she was about to break, his thumb moving back and forth over the top of her cheek bone slowly and gently, even the light touch short circuiting the nerve endings in her brain. The other hand managed to find its way under the hem of her shirt, resting there like it was moulded just for the exact curve of her hip. She didn’t jump away this time. She leant in further, raising herself off her arse and onto her knees, her legs bracketing his in awkwardly until he placed his other hand on her other hip and gripped just tightly enough to be able to lift her into his lap properly.

Kit opened her mouth to sigh in satisfaction, and Max took the opportunity to gingerly press his tongue into her mouth. She leant forward even further, her nose rubbing against the side of his, her hands coming to rest on the sides of his neck. She relished in the feeling of his stubbly, unshaven face under her palms, and raked her fingers along the back of his neck appreciatively. The action reminded her of the hair she’d been so recently admiring, and she carded her fingers through it, gently curling her hands around the longer bits. He hadn’t had a haircut in over two months, and she’d never been so grateful for it. 

She was situated slightly above him, and he used that to his advantage as he disconnected their mouths and leant down to her neck, placing slow, wet kisses from her jaw down to her collarbone and back again. Kit felt as though her whole body was wrapped around him, moving when he moved and breathing when he breathed. Her face had dropped so that her cheek was pressed against his temples, and she could feel every little movement under her. 

“Max.” She breathed out into his ear. She hadn’t even meant to say it, but it felt right as it slipped through her lips. 

“Mm?” He moved to the other side of her neck. 

“Nothing, just…” He stopped his ministrations and looked up at her. His eyes were glassy and his lips were wet with his (and probably a bit of her) spit, and she lifted a thumb to swipe along the bottom one. 

“Yes, liefje?” 

She had no idea what the word meant, but she had to resist the urge to kiss him again then and there. Or, actually, no, she didn’t anymore. She said nothing in reply and just leant down to place her mouth on his again, moving her lips slowly against his to try and drink in every spot where their bodies were connected. 

“Mm, yes, I see.” He said against her lips. 

“Shut the fuck up.” She laughed, half of the sound absorbed by his mouth. Kit was so focused on Max, on Max’s hands and Max’s mouth and Max’s fucking hair that she was almost able to ignore the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly on the table. Until it ceased and then resumed not even a second later, meaning that someone was clearly trying to call her. She nearly left it to ring out, until the thought entered her mind that her dad could be dying or something awful like that, and she reluctantly removed herself from Max’s lap with a remorseful look in her eyes. 

Daniel’s photo and contact had taken up her screen, and she considered leaving it until he hung up and re-dialed for a second time, realising that it probably was important if he was so desperate to call her. 

“Hey Dan.” Max’s hands were on her waist as soon as she answered the call, and she had to swallow her yelp as he pulled her down sideways onto his lap, arms encircling her so that she had no escape. Her hand came up to the back of his head, like it was already instinctual for her, and she began her light scratching again. Max clearly enjoyed this, as he rested his forehead into the crook between her neck and shoulder, trying to make the access to his hair slightly easier. 

“Hey Kit. Busy, are we?” 

“Nope, just uh, left my phone in the kitchen, that’s all.” Kit felt Max snort silently against her and she flicked him on the ear lightly. 

“Did Max do that too? I’ve been trying to call him for like, I dunno, fifteen minutes. He usually has his phone on him, that’s all.” Max clearly heard this, because he reached forward to grab his phone off the coffee table, his remaining hand tightening its grip on Kit’s waist so that she wouldn't fall off as he did so. 

“Uhh,” Kit began, not sure how to reply and distracted as she watched Max unlock his phone to view five missed calls from Daniel. His phone was on do not disturb, hence why they didn’t even hear the buzzing. 

“I dunno, he’s in his room,” she shot Max a wide-eyed, panicked look, “I’ll tell him you wanna talk.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s no biggie, he’s just on his phone like, 24/7 is all. Got worried he’d fallen in the shower or something.” 

“Oh, thanks for worrying, dad.” 

“Oi, I’m not that old. How’s life going for you anyway?” Kit heard the telltale shuffling noises that meant Daniel was settling in for a long phone call, and she resisted the urge to groan. He didn’t know that he was interrupting something. Max seemed fairly content, rearranging their seating position so that he was sideways on the couch as well, Kit leaning back against his chest in between his legs. 

“Yeah, not too bad. Nothing much has changed since last we talked.” Max’s chest jolted as he huffed out another laugh, except it wasn’t so silent this time. 

“Oh yeah? What was that noise? Sounded like a dog or something.” 

Kit grinned. “Nah, just the telly.” Max pinched her side in protest of the dismissal. She recognised how odd it was to be talking to her best friend as she sat between his other best friend’s legs following the best and weirdest make out of her life, but Max’s arms were so solid and comforting around her that she couldn’t find it within herself to care. 

“Oh, right. So everything’s good between you and Max then? Haven’t killed each other yet?” 

“Nah, we’re actually getting along pretty well.” Kit used her free hand to cover Max’s where it lay over her stomach, and his head fell forward to rest on her shoulder. 

“That’s good then, ay? I mean, rumour has it we’re going back to racing soon so better enjoy the peace while it lasts.” 

Kit’s brow furrowed at his words. She’d semi-forgotten about the real world in her little Max-Monaco bubble. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it’s not confirmed or anything, but I was talking to Cyril and he reckons a month longer of this, tops. You know Cyril, could just be BS but I’m willing to pick up whatever crumbs I can get at this point.” 

“Heidi not treating you right?” Kit laughed, even as her stomach was turning unpleasantly. 

“Ha,” Daniel laughed in response, “Heidi’s great, I’m the problem. I can’t sit still, I think I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t kick me out.” Kit’s gaze lowered to Max’s fingers which had stilled since their exploratory mission around her abdomen. 

“Yeah, brave woman. Hey, anyway, you want me to see if Max is busy?” 

“Tryna get rid of me that quickly? I must be losing my touch.” 

“Old people are boring Danny boy, what can I say.” 

“Yeah, go on then, I haven’t talked to him in a while, I wanna see if he has any more insightful updates than you.” Kit couldn’t quite tell what tone his was trying to convey, but his words sounded slightly more weighted than they had before. She blinked away the curiosity, just wanting the call to end so that she wouldn’t have to feel like she was committing some kind of crime by sitting ensconced in Max’s embrace. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Talk to you soon?” 

“‘Course, see ya.” 

Kit leant her head back on Max’s chest as Daniel hung up. It was probably an overly comfortable motion for their freshly baptised, not-relationship-but-more-than-friendship situation, but she had been restraining herself from similar actions for the past month, and it felt nice just to do it, no consequences other than the hole they were already in getting deeper. 

“Now I have to be a dick and come up with a reason not to call him?” Max asked as he unlocked his phone. 

“No, you can talk to him, I’m comfy.” Kit said, shuffling onto her side and wrapping her arms around Max’s middle. 

“Okay, okay, just stop moving.” Max said in a slightly strained voice, the hand still remaining on her waist tightening slightly. 

“Oh, sorry Maxie. Got a bit excited there, did you?” Kit laughed as he grinned and rolled his eyes, the ringing of him calling Daniel playing through the speaker of his phone. At least not much had changed so far. She was still teasing him, he was still teasing her. Except now, when he got a bit too sweaty or moved a bit too close to her and she thought back to Abu Dhabi, she didn’t have to hold herself back. It was a comforting notion to fall asleep to as Max’s chest rumbled from his conversation with Daniel, his hand running slowly up and down her back until her breath evened out and her eyes fell shut.

Chapter Text

“So, last thing before I let you all go, sorry, I know this meeting’s run a bit over time,” Paul, the RedBull chief of engineering, sighed as he rubbed a hand over his face. Kit’s eyes flicked to the corner of her screen, 17:53. Yeah, no shit it had run over time, they were supposed to be done by 5 (at the latest, she’d been assured). She understood the reasons why, it was their last online meeting before essential personnel would be flying back to the factory for a week of pre-race prep. For a real race, that would actually be going ahead. Kit was glad she’d at least been keeping up with her fitness and recently had forced Max to let her have a go on his racing video games, because every time she thought about getting back in the car, her stomach turned at the idea that she wouldn’t know how to do it anymore. 

Kit’s phone buzzed, and she looked over at the small box on her screen containing Max’s head, his face lit up by the blue light of his phone. They’d made sure to only do meetings in their own rooms so that no one would connect the dots that they were living together, and still they were blurring their backgrounds just in case. 

Mad Max 😡 : im bored

Kit smiled but didn’t reply. Max was just texting her to see her facial expressions change anyway, there was nothing she could reply that would alleviate his boredom. 

“...and so, yeah, that’s basically it. Things are looking really, really good for this season guys, let’s not forget the times we were laying down in testing earlier in the year, and, well, I won’t jinx it, but definitely get excited for the season ahead.” 

Christian shuffled around and the green outline jumped from Paul to him. “Thanks for that Paul, and thanks for the hard work you guys’ve been doing since we got the green light to get back to racing. See you guys in a couple of days.” 

A flurry of ‘thanks’ and ‘bye’ sounded in Kit’s headphones (another precaution in case Max’s call could somehow be heard in the back of hers or vice versa), and, after dropping her own “Thank you,” she clicked the red button in the bottom corner of her seat and sighed with relief that the arduous meeting was over.

“Urrggghh.” Kit heard a long groan through the wall and cackled in reply.

“Bit tired, hey?” She said, slightly louder than speaking volume so that he would hear.

“Fucking bored shitless more like.” Max replied. His words were followed by footsteps that got softer as he walked out of his room, punctuated by a thump as he flung his body into her doorframe heavily, his shoulder supporting his weight.

Kit grinned and stood up to meet him. “What, you don't find discussing our potential front wing for Silverstone fascinating?” Her arms wrapped around his waist, but she kept a slight distance between their chests so that she could keep looking at him. She’d had three weeks of this, and she still felt like pinching herself every time she could give in to her urges whenever she wanted.

“No, not exactly. But minimising downforce in Monza, that really gets me going.” His hands came to shuffle her t-shirt upwards, pinching the fleshy skin of her sides lightly.

“Mm, does it now?” Kit hummed, leaning up slightly to greet his mouth with her own. He hummed back, and the vibrations went tingling all the way down her spine.  

Kit had just gotten into the groove of things when he pulled away, and she had to swallow an annoying little whine as he did so. “Wait.” He said.

“What?”

“I have another call with GP.”

“Ugghhh.” Kit’s head fell forward into his chest. “Why?” She didn't fight back the whining tone in her voice this time, and her forehead moved up and down as he laughed at her.

“Because GP’s a maniac, that's why.” His hands were smoothing over the skin of her back, and she never wanted to leave.

“Mm, fine. I’ll watch Gilmore Girls while I wait for you.” 

Max scrunched up his face in annoyance. “You can't watch it without me.” 

“Aww, bubba, you’ll live.” Kit said condescendingly, giving him a pat on the cheek for good measure as she practically skipped down the stairs.

“It’ll be twenty minutes, tops!” He called down after her.

“It’ll take GP twenty minutes to finish gushing about the sidepods.”

“Ugghh.” She heard a door shutting, silencing his groan.

Kit settled herself on the couch, tucking her legs up to her chest, and went through the motions of putting the show on. She didn’t bother turning off the Dutch subtitles even though Max wasn’t there, and she was proud of herself for recognising some of the words that would pop up multiple times an episode. Every once in a while, one of Rory’s many doting acquaintances called her cutesy nicknames and Kit would turn red, the subtitles spelling out words she’d heard Max call her from time to time. 

When she thought about little moments like that, she tried to hold onto them and shut out all the confusing, terrifying aspects of their…she hesitated to call it a relationship, but there wasn’t exactly another word to use. There was nothing complicated about the feeling of Max’s back under her cheek as she leant up against him in the morning as he made their coffee, the old RedBull shirt that he threw on after waking up softened from age and smelling like Max. There was nothing scary about being able to kiss him mid-workout when his sweaty hair fell in such a way across his forehead, or when his adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged from his water bottle. It was everything else that was too unpleasant to think about, so she stuck with what she could see, what she could feel. 

On the TV, Jess pulled Rory in close and gave her a kiss on the side of her head, and Kit couldn’t help but smile as she remembered Max doing something similar the first time she managed to win a race on one of his video games with no extra assistance, both verbal or physical, from him. Remembering the racing game made her mind naturally remember real racing, something that now seemed more like a distant memory than her career. Obviously things had begun to amp up in the preceding weeks, and she knew that some people were back at the factory already, but she’d managed to suppress the thought of going back. Because bringing back racing would bring back the other sides of both Max and Kit that emerged when they were competing. 

Kit tried to shake her head and blink away that train of thought, but without Max here to poke and prod until he got annoyed enough to respond and distract her, she couldn't stop herself from falling into the spiral of her own thoughts. She’d been living with Max for the better part of three months now, and although every once in a while she would remember exactly why they didn’t get along on the track, it was hard for her to imagine them going back to acting that way around each other. Maybe it was just because she didn’t want to imagine it, but that was getting slightly too psychoanalytical for her own echo chamber so she veered back away from that idea. 

Another thing that they hadn’t discussed, arguably a more important aspect of all this in a practical sense, was how they were going to behave around each other. Kit didn’t think Helmut would take too kindly to any sort of distraction for his golden boy, and Christian, while occasionally being slightly dramatic, was a businessman and her boss at the end of the day, and wouldn’t look too favourably upon something as unprofessional as a relationship between teammates. Then again, she’d gotten so used to being so close to Max, to acting so comfortably with him, that she didn’t know whether she’d be able to switch that off so suddenly. While it was practically impossible to imagine her yelling at him again over something that went down on the track, it was all too easy to picture herself coming up to him in the media pen and giving him a kiss on the cheek, just because he was there and that’s what she’d grown used to doing at home. 

Fuck, at home . More problems. They hadn’t discussed whether or not she would keep living with him during the season. She’d had very sparse updates from her building manager, and typically they were just to update her that inefficient French bureaucracy extended into Monaco and hence very little had been done other than continue to observe all the things wrong with her apartment and make sure she knew, in no uncertain terms, that she definitely couldn’t live there in the near future. One night, around two weeks prior, she’d had a pang of stress about her living arrangements and opened up a real estate website until the idea of not living with Max made her so sad that she ended up choosing the lesser of two evils and closing the tab almost immediately. 

Kit was snapped out of her thoughts as Max descended the stairs, his bare feet slapping loudly on the wooden steps. She checked her phone to see that just over half an hour had passed, both a disgustingly long period for her to have been lost in her thoughts and simultaneously much shorter than she expected Max’s chat with GP to go on for. 

Max rounded the couch and dropped his body down next to Kit’s, head lolling back on the cushions. “Now I’m really done for today.” 

Kit shuffled so that she was facing him, the action reminding her of how this all started three weeks ago, a soft smile gracing her face at the memory. His eyes were closed, but despite his relaxed pose, she could practically see the tension in his neck and shoulders. She was feeling slightly more highly strung than usual too, but sometimes being an underdog had its perks: they had a potentially championship winning car, but Max’s name was always the one used when someone was brave enough to actually voice their expectations of a RedBull championship. It hurt a little bit, to know that she was still so obviously the second driver, but at least she didn’t have such high expectations to try and live up to. 

She reached her hand across the small space between their bodies to smooth down Max’s hair, giggling in a disgustingly girlish fashion as he wrapped one of his arms around her in response, pulling her closer so that her body could be pressed against his. Her legs were getting in the way of being able to be pressed up to him as close as humanly possible, so she stretched them out and over his left leg, now able to fully sink into the side of his torso. She felt the taut muscles of his shoulder move against her side, and as pleasant as the sensation was, she felt bad that she was resting on top of his sore, tense muscles. 

“You should get Brad to look at your shoulders when we get back to the factory.” Kit said softly as she moved her hand from his hair to rub gently at the shoulder closest to her. 

“Mmrgh.” Max groaned quietly, his muscles twitching slightly where she was pressing down into them. “Don’t wanna think about that.” 

“Max…” Kit trailed off. She didn’t want to discuss it either, but the closer their departure loomed, the more pressing she knew the conversation was. 

“Just, we’ll talk tomorrow about it, okay?” He finally opened his eyes and tilted his head up to look at her. His eyes were so pleading that Kit couldn’t push the matter any further, leaning in to give him a soft peck instead. 

“Okay.” She moved her hand from the joint of his shoulder further towards his neck, continuing her gentle movements. As she moved up into the crook between his neck and the flat of his shoulder, Max let out a soft hiss and Kit yanked her hand away like she’d been burnt. 

“Fuck Max, sorry.” 

“Tryna sabotage me this early on?” He grinned, and Kit pushed aside the twisting of her stomach to smile back at him. 

“No, I’d be a bit sneakier than that, I reckon.” 

“Mm?” Max tipped forward to rest his head on her shoulder, his nose nudging against her collarbone. His other hand joined its partner on her waist, so she was fully ensconced by him. It wasn’t a bad feeling. 

“Wouldn’t want Dr Marko coming after me for revenge, he couldn’t know it was me.” 

Max puffed out a laugh against her chest, the joke especially poignant following Helmut’s 10 minute rant in a meeting earlier that week about teamwork and ‘strategic prioritisation,’ essentially a speech of euphemisms to disguise his preferential treatment of Max. Kit didn’t mind though, she didn’t think that she’d necessarily want Helmut to be that close to her anyway. 

Kit lifted her hand once more and began to scratch lightly at the back of Max’s head, something she’d come to realise made him go soft like putty in her hands. He hummed lightly against her shoulder and his thumbs circled appreciatively on her waist. She had the fleeting thought of how much she would miss this, the closeness, the warmth, but pushed it away. If they weren’t talking about it until tomorrow, then she wasn’t going to think about it until tomorrow. 

“Can you do what you were doing before?” Max asked softly after a few quiet minutes. 

“Hmm?” Kit hummed quizzically. 

“On my shoulders.” Max seemed to bury his face fractionally deeper into her neck, and she noticed that the tips of his ears had gone red. It made her heart soften, the idea that he was a little bit embarrassed to admit that he liked what she was doing. 

“I don’t wanna make them worse, I don’t know how to, you know, do it properly.” Kit said reluctantly, not overly keen on turning down the opportunity to have his strong muscles under her hands. 

“Please?” He finally emerged from where he’d been hiding, a faint indent along his cheek from where it was pressed against the collar of her t-shirt, and she couldn’t resist those eyes. Those fucking eyes, every time. 

“Yeah, alright then. Hang on though.” Kit disentangled their bodies and planted her feet on the floor, slightly spread apart. Max seemed to get the message and situated himself on the rug in between her knees so that his shoulders were within reach. His right arm wrapped around her calf almost immediately, his thumb returning to its soothing circles over the bone on the side of her ankle. 

“Can you start here?” Max raised his other arm to point to the spot on his neck that she’d landed on before, and although Kit was tentative to cause him any more discomfort, she also didn’t think that she could press down hard enough to do any real harm. 

She tried to use the base of her palms to smooth over his shoulders the way she’d seen and felt many physios do over the years, trying to focus on that spot near his neck. Although he tensed minorly every time she hit a particular point, his muscles did seem to be slightly less bunched up than before, which sent a small surge of pride through her. She liked to be good at things, even stupid stuff like this. Even though she wasn’t the one being massaged, the rhythmic movements she was performing were almost meditative, and her eyes grew heavier and heavier with each quiet minute that passed. 

Her hands must have slowed as well, unbeknownst to her, because after one particularly long blink she felt Max shuffle out from beneath her and back up onto the couch to let her lean into his chest. 

“Thank you, schatje.” 

“Mm, anytime.” Kit knew that it was bad to fall asleep on the couch, but Max was too comfortable and the sensation of his chest rising and falling with every breath was practically rocking her to sleep. 

“You can’t fall asleep, it’s not even seven.” 

“Mmrrgh.” She nuzzled her face further into his chest, if that was even possible, and scrunched her hand that was resting on his stomach into his shirt lightly. She felt him press a soft kiss onto the top of her head, the action so gentle and familiar that it sent a wave of sadness flowing through her. This was the last night that she would be here in their bubble, where nothing else mattered and no one else would have to know. She hadn’t realised how good she’d had it over the past few weeks until this moment, and now it was all going to get taken away from her again. 

“I don’t wanna leave.” Kit mumbled quietly into Max’s shirt. She felt him sigh, and she kicked herself for bringing down the happy mood.

“I thought we were gonna talk about this tomorrow.” 

Kit blinked and felt how wet her eyelashes were, felt how a lump seemed to grow in her throat, and she knew that she was getting too worked up about this but just couldn’t stop her mind from spiralling. 

“What’s there even to talk about? It’s not like we’re gonna be able to walk around the paddock pashing and cuddling, and we both know that the second we’re back in those cars everything will change and we’ll just go back to hating each other, so what’s even the point?” Kit hadn’t looked up from Max’s chest, too scared to see his reaction and already regretting speaking her mind. She felt his heart beat against her ear once, twice, three times. 

“You really think that we’ll go back to being like that?” Max asked. Kit didn’t think she’d ever heard his voice so fragile, especially not while his body felt so strong, so safe. 

“I don’t know, maybe. Go on Max, think about it. Think about how you feel when you imagine me winning a race.” He didn’t say anything for a few moments, but the hand that was previously moving up and down her arm stilled, and she knew that she was right. 

“But I don’t, I can’t-” Max cut himself off as he struggled to form his sentences. “So that’s just it?” 

Kit finally forced herself to look up at him but immediately wished she didn’t. His blue eyes were boring into her, looking for an answer they knew they wouldn’t receive. 

“Doesn’t it have to be?”

Max took a few deep breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The motion would’ve made Kit smile if she wasn’t fighting off tears, clearly an action that he was doing to calm himself down. 

“Can we at least try and be friends?” He replied finally. Kit didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing sadly at the absurdity of their situation. 

“Of course we can be friends, Max.” 

They stayed in each other’s arms like that for what could’ve been an age. Kit knew that it was because as soon as they left this moment, as soon as they disconnected themselves, they couldn’t return to being like this. It wasn’t like this decision was a surprise to her, and she knew that it probably wasn’t much of a surprise to Max either, but that didn’t make the finality of the agreement hurt any less. If she thought about it all for too long, she felt like crying again, so she tried to focus on the fabric of Max’s t-shirt under her cheek and the feeling of his hand on her shoulder, which had returned to its previous motions, and appreciate the moment while it lasted. 

They ate dinner in front of the TV that night, not willing to bear the silence that would accompany them if they didn’t. Kit's knee still pressed softly into his thigh as she sat cross-legged and he stretched his legs out on the coffee table in front of them, but she already missed the weight of his arm around her and the feeling of one side of her body being totally encompassed by his. She didn’t think she would be able to last one night like this, let alone the rest of the year. Even the rapid chatter of Rory and Lorelai couldn’t block out her thoughts, and the minutes ticked by without notice. 

Eventually, once it was dark outside and Netflix asked if they were still watching, Kit dared to look over at Max. He was asleep, sunken down on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, still looking slightly too tense to be comfortable. She internally blamed herself, knowing that if she’d held off voicing her thoughts, thoughts Max was definitely having as well but didn’t speak out into existence, that they could’ve had one more peaceful evening together. Unable to resist, Kit reached out her hand and carded her fingers through his hair, smoothing it out of his face. She froze as Max began to shift in his sleep, almost holding her breath. 

“Schat, come here.” His voice was so quiet and sleep ridden that she’d hardly heard the words, but then one of his arms unfurled from his body and reached lethargically towards her. She knew she shouldn’t, that falling back into the familiar position would only make this harder, but then his hand was on her thigh, squeezing lightly and pulling her towards him, and she couldn’t stop herself from accepting the embrace. 

“Max?” Kit asked quietly, not sure if he had fallen back asleep yet. 

“Mm?” The sound vibrated through her body, and she nearly shivered at the sensation. 

“Maybe this doesn’t have to stop. I mean, we’re not like, together, right? So, this, I don’t know, this could be okay, in private.” Kit found herself gripping onto the hem of his t-shirt, trying to soak in every last bit of him before he answered. 

“Yes.” He practically grunted, still half asleep, but the tightening of his arms around her gave a clearer indication of his feelings. She smiled softly into his chest, ignoring the fact that it had taken one barely coherent plea for her to fold and ignore everything she’d said earlier. 

Despite still being upright on the couch, she felt her eyelids drooping and knew that they weren’t making it up the stairs tonight. The couch would have to do.

They woke up in that position the next morning with sore necks, sore backs, well, basically sore everything, but with soft smiles on their faces. Max had stood up to stretch his arms up above his head, Kit still sitting on the couch in front of him. A strip of his tummy was exposed, blonde snail trail and all, and Kit couldn’t help herself as she leant forward to place a small kiss above the waistband of his trackie shorts. 

“You’re going to kill me, doing things like that.” Max’s hands fell back to his sides, one coming to rest on her cheek. 

“Yay, more points for me.” Kit laughed at his unimpressed expression, happy that she’d backtracked on her earlier assertion that they would need to stop whatever this was, even if it took them both being half-asleep to agree to do something so objectively stupid. 

Breakfast was a peaceful affair, neither of them wanting to rush the inevitable. But eventually their plates were cleaned and their coffee, which they’d both been sipping at painstakingly slowly, was drained, and they had to face the music. They had a flight into London that afternoon, and it wasn’t as if they usually had that much free time in the week leading up to a season opener, let alone this year when everyone was so revved up for the season to be starting again that they would be lucky to have time to breathe. They’d already packed, suitcases ready at the door, and all they needed to do now was get changed into the long neglected team gear and brush their teeth before they could leave. 

“We probably shouldn’t get a cab together.” Kit said as they had finally done everything that needed to be done, no miniscule tasks left to stall their departure. 

“Oh, yeah, good point. You take this one then, I’ll call another.” Max said, gesturing at his phone screen. 

“You sure?”

Max smiled at her. “This is my apartment, remember? I think I’ll be okay.” 

“Okay.” Kit trailed off before crossing the metre of space separating them and sinking into his arms. 

“What’s that for?” Max laughed lightly, still hugging her back with just as much force. 

“I miss you.” Kit would’ve cringed at the sappiness if it wasn’t so true.

“We’ll see each other again in like, thirty minutes.” Max said. His voice was muffled from where his mouth was pressed against the top of her head, and Kit never wanted to leave. 

“Not like this though.” They stayed that way until Max’s phone pinged to inform him that their taxi was there, and they separated reluctantly. 

“See you soon.” Max said, but the look in his eyes told Kit that he was thinking the same thing as her. Their bubble was burst, this was it. They had to go back out into the real world now. As much as Kit knew she would feel right at home once she was back behind the wheel of that beauty of a RedBull, she couldn’t help but feel like nothing would compare to how she’d felt in Max’s apartment. Well, more so how she’d felt with Max. But that was over now, and she had to refocus herself on the races ahead. 17 in 5 months. She would be grateful if she even had enough time to think about Max, let alone miss him.

Chapter Text

The early morning air of Austria was cool and fresh on Kit’s face, still a bit dewy from the night before despite it being the middle of summer. She’d gone for a run around the track, trying to take advantage of the time she was allowed to spend maskless, able to breathe freely for a moment. She'd be lying if she said that was the only reason though. The past two weeks had been something from hell, Max torturously close 24/7 but never close enough. And it wasn't just because of social distancing. It felt like everywhere she looked there was more press to do, another engineering meeting, new notes to look over, a strategy to discuss. She was praying that things would calm down once everyone got over the novelty of being racing again and remembered just how much hard work it was. Her increasing fatigue levels, more mental than physical, weren’t helping her self control when it came to her teammate, either. Last night, after the longest quali of her life, all she'd wanted was to sink into Max’s arms, and the mental willpower it required not to do so used up anything she had left in the tank.

“P4 Kit, beauty. Lots we can do from there.” Hugh’s voice crackled through her radio.

“Yeah, good work today guys, thank you so much for getting the car back on track today, we'll give it everything tomorrow.” Kit wasn't sure if she even had anything left to give, but she needed to sound optimistic anyway. She'd shunted the car in FP2 the day before, creating an unnecessary amount of work for her mechanics and meaning she missed FP3 that morning. She felt guilty at the sight of so many tired faces this morning, but hopefully qualifying P4 was enough to make up for it.

She nearly pressed down on the radio button to ask how Max qualified, but stopped herself. She would find out once she was out of the car, she just needed to be patient. As she pulled herself up and out of the car, her eyes flicked over to the timing screen before she even had her helmet off. Max in P3, one tenth faster. Fuck. She tried to suppress the familiar surge of frustration, telling herself that it was her body's instinctual reaction to seeing Max best her rather than how she really felt. The only reason she didn't feel the same about the other two ahead of her was because they were Mercedes, and beating a Mercedes was a talk order in the best of times. Yeah, that was all. 

She was still perched on the edge of her car, and knew she needed to move. The mechanics had things to do, she had press, then a debrief, but she didn't want to stand up properly. All of a sudden, the stress of the past two days came crashing down on her, nearly making her knees sag, and she felt so, so tired. No amount of training during lockdown could compare to the physical pressures of a Formula 1 car, and she hadn't realised how hard she'd been pushing in her last hot lap until right now, where her body felt like jelly. 

She managed to raise her arms and take off her helmet and balaclava, reluctantly accepting a mask to place over her face immediately. She ruffled her own hair, blinked once, twice, then finally pushed off the car to move on with her day. 

The pen seemed to expand with every interview, as if she would never reach the end, like she was trapped in a never ending, multiplying circle of journalists. She was always one ahead of Max as they moved around, but the social distancing rules prohibited them from being even half as close as Kit would like. At this point she would settle for a handshake, a friendly and fleeting side hug, anything. She just wanted to feel him again. 

“Kit, only one tenth off Max today with both of you giving the Mercs a run for their money. Things looking good for tomorrow?” Kit resisted the urge to close her eyes in exasperation. It wasn't the journalist's fault that every preceding interview had started the same way.

“Yeah, the team's feeling really positive. Obviously after yesterday it's nice to be on the second row, even if it is behind my teammate.” She smiled cheekily but then realised that no one could see it. “And also it's a great result after the guys worked so hard to get my car pieced back together, so huge thanks to them, obviously.”

Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed that Max had turned to look at her at mention of ‘teammate,’ and smiled to herself under the mask again.

“Is the team nervous for the start tomorrow with you and Max side by side on the grid?” 

“Why would the team be nervous?” Kit said in genuine confusion.

“Well, you know,” The interviewer looked awkward at having to explain himself, and it took far too long for Kit to remember that the last time her and Max had been seen together by the majority of people, they still despised each other.

“Oh, that. Right. I mean, Max and I will race hard, but it'll stay clean. Both of us wanna make it to the chequered flag.” Fuck, she couldn't make a mistake like that again. It was strange to remember that most people thought they were mortal enemies. If only they knew the truth.

The engineering and strategy meeting seemed to last a lifetime, even though it was actually a fairly reasonable length with nothing too complex to discuss. They'd done well in quali, as well as they could barring a miracle, and as they were starting from a similar position, the discussions applied to both her and Max. As she lost stamina, it was becoming harder and harder not to let her eyes stray over to Max. All she wanted to do was reach across under the table and tap her foot against his, but the thought of somehow accidentally doing it to GP or another engineer was so mortifying that she restrained herself. 

His eyes were also drooping above his mask, and it was slightly comforting to see that he was drained too. She would be surprised if she'd be able to sit through a similar length meeting tomorrow after a full race if she was struggling this much after just qualifying. Max’s eyes closed and his nose scrunched up, and Kit knew he was yawning under his mask. The action made her yawn too, and she couldn't help but remember the countless times they'd fallen asleep together back at home. She would give anything to have that comfort again. 

Their hotel rooms were around 4 doors apart, a short walk that, if you timed it right, would go by unnoticed. Kit spent 45 minutes lying in bed, tossing and turning as she contemplated whether or not she should just get up and go. Her exhausted body was begging to sleep, and she knew that she would be out in a flash if she could just have Max there next to her, just rest her head on his chest. But then she fast forwarded the image and saw herself setting an alarm for the crack of dawn, sneaking out of his warm arms and back to her own room before anyone would notice something amiss. 

She reached over for her phone and resigned herself to a text, that semblance of connection better than nothing. A notification from Max popped up as she unlocked her phone, it being on do not disturb to aid her efforts to fall asleep.

Mad Max 😡 : how r u?

The message was from 20 minutes ago, and Kit replied without expectation of any reply.

knackered, cant fall asleep tho

‘I wish you were here’ she thought to herself, but didn't type out her thoughts.

how abt u?

She settled for that instead.

Mad Max 😡 : exhausted, dont know how im gonna race tomorrow

The bubbles popped up and then disappeared, and Kit smiled at the image of him typing and deleting a message. 

we’ll get thru it

we should try and sleep tho

Three dots popped up and disappeared again. Finally, he actually sent a message in reply.

Mad Max 😡 : easier said than done

we should at least try

Mad Max 😡 : 😤

Kit turned off her phone and plugged it into the charger by her bed. She settled back down into the fluffy hotel pillows, feeling slightly more relaxed after having talked to Max, even if it was a half hearted text conversation. She fell asleep in trying to imagine the feeling of his chest under her body, the beating of his heart and the steadiness of his breathing, something that had once been so close and was now so far away.

Kit tried to push the memories of yesterday out of her mind as she rounded the final corner of the track and ran past the box where the chequered flag would be waving that afternoon. It wasn't the end of her run, as she was going to finish by running back down the pit lane, but there was a certain jump in her chest at the sensation of passing over the finish line. Muscle memory from years of relief and joy at finishing a race in one piece. She was hoping that it would be the latter this afternoon. As exhausted as she was, the car had really started to feel like it was working away beautifully under her control by the end of qualifying, allowing her to jump Lando and snag fourth. Well, it was actually third now, the stewards having reviewed some data since qualifying and penalising Lewis for not slowing enough during double yellows. She still bristled slightly at the idea of Max starting on the front row and not her, but she pushed those thoughts down. It wouldn't be like last year.

By the time she'd made it back to the RedBull motorhome, showered, changed into her team gear and scarfed down some breakfast in hospitality, the paddock had started to become more populated and Kit hooked her mask back over her ears as she watched a group of engineers enter the relatively small space. Behind them, nearly obscured from view, Max was walking in with his head down, his father's hand firm on the base of his neck as they made a beeline for his driver's room. Kit cringed slightly at the sight, knowing that although Max assured her (over text of course) that he was feeling much better in his physio’s capable hands, that was the spot where he'd been feeling the sorest. She wondered if Jos even considered things like that, if Max would’ve mentioned it at all. Probably not, given his apparent disregard for his son’s physical health. Kit was shocked that Max was still letting him come to races, given his admission back in Australia. That seemed like a lifetime ago. 

She shook herself out of her reverie. She needed to focus on today. She could achieve things from third, even just holding position would grant her a podium, and she couldn't be distracted by anything outside of the race. The run had done her some good, the stretching before and after making her feel loose and relaxed, and her head felt cleared after breathing in the fresh air. She had set herself up well for the day, but getting into a daze about Max was one easy way to undo all of her hard work. And her poor mechanics. She still felt a swirling guilt every time one of them yawned or rubbed at their eyes. If she was on the podium she would be sure to try and save most of her champers for them.

The morning meetings and press passed by in a blur, and it was surprisingly easy for Kit to settle back into such a familiar routine. The beginning of the weekend had felt unsettled after her crash, but now that everything was finally going to plan she could relax slightly and actually get excited to be racing again. The driver's parade had been scrapped as there were no spectators to actually parade in front of, but the extra free half an hour made everything else expand to fill in the space and so Kit felt slightly less like a shepherded sheep than usual.

Ten minutes until she needed to get in the car to drive it out to the grid, and Kit was at the back of the garage, arms crossed as she slightly zoned out staring at one of the TV screens. This was usually time she would spend chatting to various people mindlessly before the race, but the paddock was essentially a skeleton crew compared to its usual population, and so she was left to her own devices. She was leaning back against a bench, arms crossed over her fireproofs with the top of her race suit yet to be zipped up. She was anxious to get in the car, to finally be racing again, to fight into that first corner like her life depended on it, but she needed to not get too worked up before the beginning of the race so that she could go in with a clear head. Breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. It didn’t really have the same effect through the RedBull branded mask, but it helped somewhat. 

Her gaze was brought back into focus as she saw something dark shift on the TV screen, noticing Max’s presence beside her only after she saw him on the broadcast first. They weren’t touching, but he was definitely closer than they were supposed to be. 

“Hey.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, clearly smiling underneath the mask. 

“Hey yourself. Give up on social distancing already?” Kit laughed. 

“They should be happy I’m giving you this much space.” Max replied quietly so that no one else could hear, and Kit was glad that the mask was covering up her now blushing cheeks. All she wanted was to be able to give him a quick hug before they got in the car, nothing more, but that wasn’t really an option for them. She could practically hear the commentators discussing her and Max’s newfound amiability in lieu of anything more interesting happening, she wasn’t going to make it worse by giving him a cuddle too. 

“I hope we’re both on the podium.” Kit said wistfully. 

“Only if I’m in front though.” Max joked, but Kit could sense that all too familiar competitive tone just lingering beneath the surface, and she tried to ignore it. GP beckoned Max over for some last minute words of advice, and he departed from her side with a quick squeeze on the shoulder. It was nothing compared to their intimacy a couple of short weeks ago, but Kit still felt as if her shoulder was tingling where they’d touched, and she knew that her grin beneath her mask would still be obvious to anyone who looked closely enough. She felt renewed, felt ready to race now. 

The grid was considerably quieter than usual, with no one but essential team personnel allowed on the track, and Kit was appreciative of the breathing space. It was good to ease back into things this way, without the constant badgering of TV presenters wanting to get an essentially useless sound bite about how hard she was going to try on the track. She always tried hard on the track. The lights signalled that it was nearly time for the formation lap, and the space in front of her car seemed to empty out rapidly, mechanics flitting away from the revving vehicles. She spent the lap weaving, warming up her tyres, trying not to drive too quickly lest the back-markers took their sweet time once she had pulled into her grid slot. 

Her heartbeat increased as the lights flicked on one by one, anticipation burning through her veins. She realised that she was holding her breath, and breathed out long and purposefully, trying to centre herself before leaving the line. The lights dropped and then she was off. 

Max quickly swung over to cover her off, and she gritted her teeth in frustration. That was okay though, she could overtake him somewhere else. Bottas’ start hadn’t been nearly as successful, and Max was hanging onto his rear wing for most of the second lap. Kit hung back from the pair of leaders, not wanting to ruin her tyres this early on, and clearly Max had been instructed to do the same, as soon he was falling away from Bottas. They continued along like this, Kit keeping pace with Max but not wanting to push too hard and ruin her tyres. They were on the softs and were aiming for a long-ish stint, and it would be pointless overtaking Max only for her tyres to hit the cliff and turn to shit. 

“Kit, Hamilton’s overtaken Norris, and is two tenths a lap faster than you. Let’s push now.” Hugh’s calm but firm tone instructed her. Kit could push, pushing was far, far easier than holding back. Laps continued to tick by and she didn’t hear any more from her team, which she assumed must only be a good thing. She was catching Max, but wasn’t close enough yet to feel the negative repercussions through her tyres. Even more surprisingly, she could still see the Mercedes of Bottas with her own eyes once they were rocketing down the pit straight. They had been laying down similar times to the Mercs all weekend, but it was still shocking to see how close they were. That team had once seemed like it was in a league of its own, but clearly her and Max’s cars were keeping pace. 

“Yellow flags sector one, yellow flags sector one.” Kit slowed accordingly as she headed into turn 1, a red and white Haas in the barrier beyond. 

“Is he alright?” Kit asked through her radio. 

“Yep, he’s all good. Safety car now, safety car.” Kit was prepped for the ‘box box’ call, but it never came. Her tyres didn’t feel awful, but the softs were definitely reaching the last few laps of their peak window, and she thought a pit stop under the safety car would’ve been the obvious choice. 

“Okay, box this lap, box box, you’ll be coming in behind Max.” 

“Okay.” Kit said affirmatively as resentment twisted painfully in her stomach. They would’ve done the same if it was her in front, right? It was just luck of the draw, she couldn’t get angry about that. Her body seemed to disagree with her mind, but she wouldn’t let herself get worked up about this. There was still two-thirds of the race left to run. 

Most of the teams seemed to have the same idea, as they all filed out in the same order after their pitstop, and Kit began to wonder if that made the strategy call somewhat redundant. Then again, her new hard tyres would probably last her till the end of the race, and she wanted all the time she could get to overtake Max. Her foot was practically twitching as she trailed behind him, aching to get back on the throttle and back to racing. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get off quite as quickly as she would hope, her hard tyres definitely not up to temperature from the slower lap times, but she was close enough to Max that she would be able to give him a challenge. 

Finally the safety car pulled in, but Max seemed to be getting more traction out of his tyres and shot off before Kit could get alongside. She tried not to be discouraged. She pushed along behind him, unsure of whether or not she could be doing more to try and overtake, but not wanting to risk ruining the tyres or using up too much fuel. Ten laps gone by, still fucking behind Max. The hards felt grippy now, and she was unconsciously pushing up behind him, closer and closer every lap. Nothing from the team. She figured that they would’ve said if they didn’t want her to overtake (not that she would listen), and so she took this as a sign of permission. 

Another five laps, she could feel her tyres beginning to protest running so closely behind Max, but she knew that if she just pushed that little bit more she would get DRS, and given their equal engines, she should be able to overtake. Around turn nine she had laser focus on the apex, two wheels over the curb, and again at turn ten. She saw the little cardboard DRS sign flash past her but for a moment her screen didn’t correlate, and she gripped the steering wheel marginally tighter in annoyance that she would have to wait a whole nother lap. But then the screen went green and she activated her rear wing, the slip stream working in tandem to pull her closer and closer to Max. 

She must’ve been just on the brink of 1 second, because it took the whole pit straight just to be able to pull alongside Max before going into turn 1. Her front wing was probably in front of Max’s by a hairwidth, but that was enough for her to feel brave enough chucking her car over the apex. She vaguely noticed a bit of smoke from the left of her peripheral vision, momentarily smiling under her helmet at the fact that Max had locked his brakes trying to outbrake her around the outside. Not today, buddy. 

Despite noticing the closeness before, it still shocked her slightly to see Bottas’ relatively close to her out the front. She wasn’t used to being within spitting distance of a Mercedes, even if it was technically their second driver. She smiled again at that thought: the second drivers out the front. 

“Nice move Kit, keep pushing.” Kit was surprised to hear Hugh’s voice after such an extended radio silence, but his lack of retribution could only be a good thing. She didn’t want the team to get too annoyed with her this early on, especially not with such a cracker of a car. 

She had just started to feel as if she was putting together her best laps all race when Hugh’s voice sounded out again, this time with less positive news. 

“Grosjean and Russel out, it’s gonna be a safety car. Uh, C1 Blue.” 

C1 Blue . There had been such a flurry of strategy meetings that week that Kit was flooded with relief that the strategy call was one they’d used since she joined RedBull. C1 meant Valtteri, obviously, and blue meant to do whatever he didn’t do. He boxes, she stays out, and vice versa. She began to slow marginally, hopefully enough to make it look like her own lack of performance rather than purposefully dropping back to give herself more time to react to his actions at the pit lane entrance. Rounding turn 9 once again, Kit watched Valtteri go too wide to be pitting and so she swung in. 

“Going on the softs, so take it easy until the safety car ends.” Hugh said once more, but Kit hardly noticed as she focused on hitting her marks and speeding off as quickly as possible. There were still twenty laps left of the race, and, antithetical to the previous safety car, Kit hoped that it would go on for as long as possible. She came out behind Valtteri, and assumed that the team had done another double stack. She felt a small sense of accomplishment at being the driver in front this time. 

The safety car lasted for 10 full, long, slow laps, George and Romain having done quite a number to the barriers around turn 3. Her tyres were fresh and grippy, cutting into Valtteri’s lead like it was butter. This time when she rounded turn 10 into the DRS zone she didn’t have to question whether or not she would be able to activate it, she was practically hanging off the Mercedes’ rear wing, and on gloriously fresh soft tyres she flew down the pit straight to take the lead. It had been such a faultless running back up from third to first that it took her a full lap to process it. First. She was in the lead. She’d never been in the lead before. 

She bit back her smile and harshly reminded herself that the race wasn’t over yet, that anything could happen until that chequered flag. A few more laps passed full of clean air and a rapidly growing sensation of achievement in her chest, until the chequered flag was waving, the team hanging off the barrier behind it. Shaking their fists, whooping in celebration (Kit couldn’t hear it, but she was sure they were). 

“Yes Kit, P1, bloody brilliant race today. Brilliant.” It was as if her brain hadn’t truly comprehended what had happened until hearing it in Hugh’s calm, even voice, and then her face was splitting into a grin and she felt like crying tears of joy. 

“YES! Fuck yes boys! WOOOOO!” As soon as her engine was off and she’d pulled in front of the P1 marker in front of the pit lane, she realised just how quiet the track was without any fans, not hearing the usual roar that would accompany the end of a race, but the elation of her team through the radio was more than enough. Through the radio, because unlike last year, there were no huge crowds of mechanics and engineers for her to launch herself into. God, she couldn’t have picked a worse race to win for the first time. 

She spotted Christian slightly further down the track, and after securing her car she jogged over to be enveloped in a hug. 

“Thank you.” Was all she could think to say. 

“No Kit, thank you .” She could see his crows’ feet bunching up around his eyes and knew that he was probably smiling nearly as much as she was under there. She clapped him on the shoulder once more in appreciation before walking back towards where she was actually supposed to be. She deposited her helmet and gloves onto a little stand and allowed herself one unobstructed breath before tugging a mask on over her ears, mussing her hair back into something somewhat reasonable. 

“Hey.” She felt a nudge from beside her and looked up to be met with Max’s eyes boring down into hers. She knew that she couldn’t jump into his arms like she so wanted to, and settled for leaning slightly into his friendly pat on the back instead. “Good job.” 

“Thanks Max.” Kit replied sincerely, before realising she sounded a bit arrogant. “You too, of course.” She’d noticed his car in second place and realised that he must’ve passed Valtteri as well. 

Max shrugged his shoulders. “Pff, second place, not that good.” He walked off towards Christian before she could say anything in reply, and her stomach dropped. She wondered if she would’ve said the same thing had it been her in second place, and felt even worse after realising that he probably would. 

The podium was a half-hearted little affair on the track, and Kit tried not to come off as disappointed. She shouldn't be disappointed, it was a race win all the same. 25 points to her name, sitting at the top of the championship. She should feel like God. But she didn’t. She felt cold as the champagne dried on her skin, and even colder as Max walked off to the press conference without so much a glance in her direction. She’d lived with the man for three months and he couldn’t tell her more than a ‘good job’?

“Kit, we couldn’t see you from under the mask today but surely you must be over the moon with your first race win, especially going into such a disrupted season it must feel incredible, talk us through how you’re feeling.” 

Kit felt sticky and in need of a shower. She felt like she wanted to sink into Max’s arms and never leave, and she also wanted to give him a good berating until his ears fell off. She was over the moon but it felt empty, like she shouldn’t be happy. She felt guilty for craving a stadium full of people cheering for her. She felt depressed at the fact that she’d spent so many years getting used to that sort of thing that she needed it to feel happy for her own achievement. 

“I feel amazing. The car was incredible today, and the team made some excellent strategy calls which in the end allowed us to get past Valtteri.” She gestured minutely to the man on her left. “It’s, I mean I don’t wanna get ahead of myself here, but it’s great to start off the season so well and I’m feeling really good about the rest of the season.”

“And how does it feel to be the first woman to ever win a Formula 1 race?” 

“Uhh,” Kit laughed awkwardly, “I s’pose I haven’t really thought about it. I guess it’s nice to have my name in the history books, but I’m sure it doesn’t feel different to anyone else’s first win. I’m not naive enough to think that I’m gonna cause some kind of cultural shift, but I don’t know, maybe a little girl somewhere is watching this, thinking that it’s something she wants to aim for too, and just that would be enough of an impact for me.” 

“And for you, what are you aiming for now?” 

Kit didn’t have to hesitate. “More wins, of course.” 

“A championship?” 

Now she hesitated. “Well, I wouldn’t wanna jinx it.” 

“But that is something on the cards for you?” 

“We’ve only had one race, we’ll just see how the season plays out from here.” 

“Right, of course, now Max…” 

Kit was right the day before, by the end of the engineering debrief she felt dead tired. Despite the hugely successful race, it still seemed like there were mountains of data to go through, and she tried not to yawn obviously as Hugh droned on and on. She was paying attention now though, unlike yesterday, because thinking about Max made her chest hurt in a way she didn’t want to think about too much. She was honestly surprised to make it back to the hotel in one piece, eventually slumping down to sit on the end of her bed and finally try and process everything that had happened that day. 

She’d won a race, held the largest trophy in her hands and stood on the top step of the podium. So why did she feel so shitty? She couldn’t call her parents or Ceci, it was about 3am in Sydney, and it wasn’t like she could talk to Max about her weird jumble of emotions. Besides the fact that he’d come second and was probably ripping his hair out at having lost to her, he was also the most emotionally inept person she knew. He would never understand feeling anything but elation (and probably a bit of relief) at a race win, so it was pointless putting herself through the effort only to get nothing in return. 

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, staring blankly at the wall, until her phone buzzed and she was greeted with a text message from Charles.

Charlie 🏎️ : well done today mate, sorry i couldnt tell you after the race but you know how it is now!

Kit smiled at the message and went to type out a reply before backspacing her half-hearted thank you and clicked on the call button. After a few rings she realised that Charles was probably just as worn out as she was and wouldn’t really want to talk to her properly, just wanted to be courteous with his message, but then the ringing clicked off and his voice sounded out through her phone. 

“Hey Kit, what’s up?” 

“Hey, thanks for your message, by the way, that was nice of you.” 

“Yeah of course, no problem. Are you okay?” 

Kit could hear some shuffling on Charles’ end and felt even worse about calling him. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just wanted to chat. If you’re busy it’s all good, it’s not urgent or anything.” 

“No, I’m fine. Chat away.” 

Kit grinned at the affirmation and launched into her ramble, thoughts nearly incoherent with Charles having to stop her several times so that she could explain what exactly she was talking about. Eventually, she drew her rant to a close, and Charles paused for a few seconds before replying. 

“I totally get it. I felt, yeah, I did not feel good after my first win either.” Charles drew in a sharp breath, and Kit waited for him to continue, her mind whirring with why he wouldn’t have celebrated his win like normal until it finally clicked, and she felt a small lump form in her throat. 

“Oh god , Charles I’m so sorry. I’ve been sitting here whinging about no crowds and you had that to deal with. I’m such an idiot, fuck Charles, you should’ve said something.” 

“It’s okay, really, it is, don’t worry. I still, I still felt good though, after I won, that was what made it even worse. The guilt, that I was so happy when he was, well, yeah.” Charles breathed out, long and hard, and Kit wanted to reach through the phone and give him a hug. 

“Yeah, but you deserved to feel happy. You won the race, you earned it.” 

“I know I did, and it’s the same for you. Don’t stress about other people, just enjoy it for what it is.” 

Kit looked unenthusiastically around her hotel room until her eyes landed on her trophy, the first place plaque glinting under the overhead light. “Yeah, you’re pretty good at this, you know?” 

“Please tell my girlfriend that, she doesn’t think I understand her emotions.” 

Kit laughed, but couldn’t hold back a yawn that was fighting to break free. “I’m so not getting involved in that. Anyway, I should go and eat something before I sleep for the next twelve hours.” She paused, wondering whether or not she should apologise again, but decided against it. “Thanks for being my shoulder to cry on.” 

“Anytime. I guess I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah, definitely. Well, see ya.” 

“Bye.” 

Kit flopped back down on her bed, and closed her eyes as she let her body sink into the soft mattress. She felt even worse now, but that was her own fault for bringing up conflicting emotions after first wins with Charles of all people. What an idiot she was. She knew she wouldn't fall asleep because of the bright lights beaming down on her from above, making the colour behind her eyes brown instead of black, and she wished that she could somehow magic herself some food and a shower and into her pyjamas without having to lift a finger. Or, even better, magic herself those things but in Max’s room.

Four doors. That was the only thing standing in between them. Max had hung back a bit to chat with Christian after the meeting, but he should be back by now. Four doors seemed like such a long distance when she contemplated having to open her eyes and stand up again, but then she remembered the last time she properly hugged Max and that alone propelled her down the hallway. 

Luckily for Kit it was empty, but she'd already thought up an excuse for her escapade: she just wanted to check that everything was alright between them now that they'd had a new burst of friendship. Easy. She knocked, and for a moment she wanted to turn around and run away, but then Max opened the door and any notion of leaving evaporated.

Max stared at her, clearly thinking through what he was going to say but actually formulating none of it. “Can I come in?” Kit asked tentatively. He continued to not say a word, but nodded and stepped aside to let her in. That was a good start.

His bedsheets were tangled and Kit threw a glance back in his direction to notice him rubbing at his face, indents of the sheets running along his bare arms.

“Shit Max, were you asleep?” 

“Mm, yeah.” That explained his non-verbal communication from before. She felt guilt pool in her stomach once more. First Charles, now Max. She was so bloody selfish, why couldn't she be content in her room alone like everybody else?

“I’ll, sorry, I’ll go.” Kit had barely made it one full step when she felt Max wrap his hand around her wrist and tug her towards his bed. She slid her shoes off and followed suit. He lay back on his pillows, on his side so that he could face Kit who was doing the same.

“I hope you didn't come to talk.” Max murmured, his eyes already drooping. It was the cutest thing she'd maybe ever seen.

“No, this is perfect.” Kit didn't really know what she'd come here for, but it felt nice to be so close to Max again. “Do you wanna, um…” Kit trailed off as she gestured towards herself. She'd never had to ask Max to get close to her before, he would just do it of his own volition, but now it felt as if that barrier had gone up between them again after too much time apart.

“Mm, sure.” Max’s arm went around Kit’s waist and he shuffled down so that his head was resting just under her chest, practically nuzzling into her stomach. Kit nearly sighed in contentment and her hand went to the back of his head out of instinct, scratching lightly at his scalp and twirling little bits of hair around her fingers. She wondered briefly why she still felt mildly uncomfortable before realising that she was wearing jeans and a team polo, and she laughed lightly at the sight of Max lying against her in his boxers and a t-shirt in comparison.

“Max.” She said softly, unsure if he was asleep yet or not.

“Mm?” 

“I need to go back to my room for a sec, I’m still in my normal clothes.” Although she was the one who came here in the first place, it was Max whose grip tightened around her shirt, and he grumbled incomprehensibly in protest.

“I don’t wanna lie here in my jeans Max, I’ll be like 30 seconds.” She stilled her hand on the back of his head, thinking that that might persuade him to release her.

“Just get some of mine.” Max pointed lazily at his open suitcase that he hadn't bothered to unpack despite the fact that they were going to be at the same hotel for another full week. Kit’s stomach twisted at such an intimate and risky gesture, wearing Max’s clothes, but she didn't really care about the consequences of anything in that moment.

She didn't really mind if Max watched her undressing, she wasn't taking off her undies and it wasn't like he hadn't seen that much before. She plucked out the first t-shirt she laid her hands on, and had to stifle a giggle at the fact it had clearly been Jos’ at one point, the orange Arrows logo emblazoned across the back. She considered briefly putting it back, but then she caught a whiff of the fabric and realised that it smelt so much like all Max’s clothes that it would've been an age since Jos had worn it himself. She wondered briefly why Max was wearing hand-me-downs when he could easily afford to buy a full new set of clothes in every city, but then she decided that it was endearing enough for her not to care. Following that was a pair of loose, plaid boxer shorts, and then she was back alongside Max in bed and finally felt her emotions stop swirling around for the first time all day.

“Why are you wearing my dad’s shirt?” Max’s voice was muffled by the very same fabric, but she could hear that familiar teasing tone poke through the fatigue. 

“Why did you even bring your dad’s shirt? Anyway, it was at the top of the pile, that's why.” Kit paused to think of the implications of that, Max had probably worn it just last night to bed. 

“Mm, okay.” Max clearly wasn't up for their usual back and forth, nuzzling fractionally deeper into the soft skin of her stomach and Kit took that as a signal to let her hands return to their work. She realised belatedly that all the lights were still on and she hadn't eaten dinner, but at that moment she didn't really care. Max was here, with her, a race winner. She smiled softly as she drifted further into sleep. This was so, so much better than any of the other celebrations she could've had that day. This was perfect.

Chapter Text

Kit blinked slowly as she woke up, unsure of where she was and feeling a gross post-nap taste in her mouth. She was momentarily blinded by the lights above her, and wondered why they would be on while she was asleep. And then she remembered. Max had somehow worked his hand up under her shirt as she slept, his palm resting warmly on her hip. The breath leaving his nose brushed her skin in little puffs, and she ran her thumb along his cheekbone in appreciation. 

Clearly Max hadn’t been in a deep sleep either, as just the lightest touch of her finger woke him up. “What time is it?” he murmured, barely opening his eyes. 

Kit turned her head to the side on the pillow, bleary eyes struggling to focus on the digital clock on the bedside table. “Um, half-past 11.” So they’d been asleep for about four hours. Her body clock was going to be so fucked after tonight, but she felt warm and cosy enough that she didn’t really care. 

Max shifted off her and onto his elbows, rubbing at his eyes to try and wake himself up. He blinked a couple of times before shifting up further on the bed so that he was sitting up with his back against the headboard. The weight being alleviated from her stomach made her realise that he’d basically been resting on her bladder all night, and she untangled herself from the sheets in pursuit of the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Just the toilet.” Kit grinned back at Max. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

Once she’d done her business and re-tied her now ratty hair in a slightly more presentable loose bun, she returned to the bed and sat next to Max, the whole left side of her body pressed against his. His arm extracted itself to wrap around her, and it was all too easy to settle back into such a familiar position. 

“Do you want some food?” Max asked softly, his lips pressed against the top of her head. 

“Where are we gonna get food? It’s nearly midnight.” 

“My dad ordered me something before but I wasn’t hungry, we could split it?” 

“How romantic.” Kit smiled up at him. 

“Hey, I’m doing my best here.” Max smiled back, standing up to retrieve the food from his fridge. It was a fairly generous plate of salmon, rice and veggies, and even though it was cold, Kit was hungry enough to eat it anyway. Kit reached over to grab the TV remote and flicked through the channels until she landed on a channel playing Harry Potter, which she could follow even with the German dub. She accepted the fork that Max pressed into her hand and dug into the food in front of them. As the plate got emptier, her mind couldn’t help coming back to the same point. 

“Your dad’s here? I feel like I haven’t seen him at all.” 

Max swallowed and took a moment before answering, and Kit worried that she’d ruined the peaceful atmosphere by bringing up the subject. “Yeah, he’s been uh, keeping a low profile, I guess.” Max tapped his fork against the plate absentmindedly, and Kit tried to ignore how annoying the sound was. 

“How, uh, how are things, you know, between you?” 

Max tapped a few more times before cutting himself off by putting the fork and plate to the side and shuffling so that he was facing the TV fully. 

“Fine, he wasn’t too happy today, but I was pretty close to you so he wasn’t that upset.” There was something more in his voice, his arms crossed over his chest like he was trying to hold it all in. 

“Um, were you, I mean, are you, upset?” Kit stammered out. She was looking at him and he was looking at the TV, both with great purpose. 

“No.” Kit sat in silence to try and bait out more of an answer. “I mean, I’m annoyed, sure, I wanted to win. But there’s no one I can blame but myself, I just wasn’t fast enough today and you were.”

Kit wanted to wrap him in her arms again, but didn’t think it was appropriate. “You don’t need to blame anyone Max, there’s nothing, it’s not like anyone’s at fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I lost.” He looked at her then, those eyes boring into her as they had done so many times before, but Kit’s stomach sank when she realised she couldn’t read them anymore. There was so much swirling around in there, and it was like they were back in 2019, him staring at her with so much unrecognisable emotion that she used to pass off as frustration or anger. She had been an idiot to believe for one second that Max would be able to push past his own competitiveness just for her sake. That he would be able to give her more congratulations except for the ‘good job’. This was Max. He wasn’t her boyfriend, he wasn’t here for her to rely on or confide in. He was her teammate, her competitor. She’d forgotten that briefly over the past few months, but he hadn’t changed, not really. 

She didn’t know how to reply, so instead she positioned herself next to him again and placed her arm across his middle. If this was all she got, she could live with this. If she had to leave racing outside anytime they wanted to be together like this, she could do that. It was all too easy to let him pull her in closer, rest her head on his chest and zone out with the TV acting as a mild distraction from the thoughts running through her head. 

Hermione had just slapped down a huge book in front of Harry and Ron, exclaiming something matter-of-factly in German when Max’s phone buzzed and he let out a deep sigh at the message. Kit looked at him with a questioning gaze but didn’t say anything, lest they got onto the topic of the race again. 

“It’s, it’s nothing, I uh,” Max said, looking at Kit’s expression. “I should probably try and go back to sleep, you know, before tomorrow.” Kit got the hint. 

“Oh, yeah, right, I’ll um, I’ll go back then.” She plucked her phone off the bedside table and redressed in silence, feeling as if she'd just been snapped back into reality. 

“Schatje.” He said quietly once Kit was fully dressed again, sitting on the edge of the bed to retie her shoes. She hated how automatically her head turned at the nickname. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, we can’t, I mean, it has to be like this, right?” Kit replied, struggling to find the words to describe how she felt about sneaking out of his room at midnight like a rebellious teenager. 

“I guess.” He still had a strange look on his face, so Kit leant forward to give him a quick peck. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d kissed, but it was over before it had really started and part of Kit wanted to keep it that way. Didn’t want to indulge so much that it hurt more once it was over. 

“I’ll see you ‘round.” Kit said quietly, relishing in Max giving her thigh a light squeeze before she stood up and left his room. Only five minutes later she was settled in her own bed, teeth brushed and pyjamas on, staring at the ceiling in darkness. She didn’t regret her poorly timed nap, because she’d been with Max, but she knew she would be tossing and turning well into the early hours of the morning. Part of her didn’t want to admit that if Max was in bed with her and she was still wearing his clothes that it would be a different story, so she squeezed her eyes shut tightly and tried to think of anything else while she waited for sleep to take over. 

Nothing seemed to be working, and after what seemed like an age trying to fall asleep, she finally threw in the towel and flicked her bedside lamp back on. It was 1:15 in the morning and she'd never felt more awake. She unlocked her phone to try and pass the time and was met with a flurry of messages, realising with a drop in her stomach that she'd forgotten to call her family. Her poor family who'd barely gotten a moment alone with her in Australia before they were all whisked away again back in March. She nearly cried as she saw that her mum had tried to call her four times. She opened the clock app on her phone to check what time it was in Sydney, and seeing that it was around 4pm she figured she could call her back.

“Hello?” Of course her mother hadn't checked the caller ID. She still despised Kit’s father for getting rid of their landline because it was essentially redundant for everyone but her.

“Hey mum, it's me.”

“Oh Kit, congratulations sweetheart. We watched the race as soon as we woke up this morning, it was wonderful, we're so proud of you.”

“Thanks mum, sorry I didn't call you sooner.”

“No, don’t worry about that, you’re a busy girl. Hey, what time is it there anyway?” Kit considered lying to her mother, but knew she’d find out eventually anyway. 

“Uhh, about 1 in the morning.” Kit tried to chuckle lightly, but she could practically see her mother’s brow creasing in concern. 

“Surely you haven’t been, you know, out on the town or anything though?” 

“No.” Kit actually laughed this time. “I actually fell asleep at 7ish, like a nanna, and I just woke up again.” 

“Oh poor thing, you must’ve been knackered.” 

“Yeah, guess I’m just out of the habit. I’m sure I’ll get back into it soon, you know, the long days and the races and stuff.” 

“Of course you will, darling, but don’t work too hard. It’s just a race, it’s not worth your health.” Kit smiled to herself. Ever since karting her parents had never pushed her further than she wanted to go. If anything, it usually got to a point where they’d force her to leave the track on a school night or make her stay home if she was sick on a race day. Nothing much had changed, except maybe her mother worried about her a bit more now (and had given up on any kind of academic future for her.

“Don’t worry mum, I’m taking care of myself.” 

“Good, good. Well everyone at dad’s work says congrats, I’ll let you get on now given it’s so late.” 

“Thanks mum, I’ll call you soon, or you can call me. I’m not quite as busy as usual, given not everyone’s allowed back yet, so I might be free if you give me a ring.” 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you just call me when you want to chat, I know you’ll be working hard.”

“I’ll try, talk to you soon mum.” 

“See you, honey.” 

Kit felt marginally better for having spoken to her mum, enough so that her brain could settle down and she could drift off into a half-sleep. It felt like only a few minutes before the sun was beaming in through her windows, unobscured by curtains because of course she wouldn’t have closed them the night before. She sat up, stretched her arms above her head and tried to blink away her strange night of restlessness. She had a full week in Austria before the next race to resettle, she could deal with one semi-sleepless night. And anyway, had the circumstances been normal, she was sure she would’ve had a sleepless night anyway, potentially for some more exciting reasons than falling asleep at 7pm. 

Luckily for her, the rest of her days off went by smoothly. Training, signing hats and posters, chatting to some of the engineers as she saw them around the paddock. She forced herself not to give into temptation and spend any more time in Max’s room, mainly for the sake of her own health. She knew she’d be too paranoid to stay in there until a reasonable hour in the morning and would force herself to sneak out while she was 100% sure that everyone else was asleep, creating more nights of broken sleep. She’d spent most of Monday in a weird haze due to her unfulfilling night of sleep and wanted to be back in top form before Sunday. 

By the time Thursday rolled around, Kit was feeling relaxed and with much more energy than the week before due to being settled in one place leading up to it. That was lucky, considering she was having to film a short video in her driver’s room for RedBull's own social media, meaning she basically had to chat unprompted without an interviewer, her teammate, or some kind of inane challenge to propel her on.  

“Okay, so Kit just sit there, here’s a box of stuff you can sign, and just chat away while you do so.” Kit was instructed by her new PR girl, Olivia, somehow related to Cath through her cousin’s friend’s daughter’s babysitter or something like that. Kit actually really liked her, and thought she was surprisingly good at her job despite the fact she was only about 19, and her nickname was Olive which Kit never got tired of saying.

“Sounds good, any guiding questions, or…?” Kit smiled reassuringly, not wanting to seem as if she was judging the girl. 

“Um, no, not really. Maybe give a little tour, show all your…stuff?” Olive laughed at herself as exposed how little she knew about what they were actually supposed to be doing. Kit assumed that Cath had given her a miniscule briefing before rushing off to do something else, and she took pity on the girl. 

“Yeah, all good, I’ll think of something interesting to say.” Kit settled into her little spinny chair and fiddled with the marker in her hand, unsure of when to start. 

“Oh, also you can take your mask off.” Olive said, gesturing to her own which remained firmly in place. Kit always felt a little rush of guilt when she got special treatment like this, but it also felt nice to free the lower half of her face. 

“Okay, good to go?” Kit asked, turning to look at the camera once she received a thumbs up.

“Hey guys, it’s Kit, we’re here today in my little, uh, driver’s room at the RedBull ring in Austria. It’s been a good week for me, as you can see,” Kit gestured to the trophy that sat in the corner of the room that she had to bring back to the track to have photos taken. “Hopefully this weekend will be just as good.” 

She reached into the box  and pulled out a stack of hats, uncapping the pen and beginning to sign on one side. “I’ve probably signed about, I don’t know, five thousand hats in my life, which is pretty weird to think about. See, I’ve gotta sign on this side so that Max can sign the other side. Not that anyone really wants Max’s signature, but,” she smiled at the camera, “you gotta do what you gotta do.” 

She knew she was just rambling, but Olive didn’t seem to be protesting and she couldn’t really think of anything insightful to say, so she just kept going. “Actually, the first time I got to sign something was when I was in, like, I don’t even know, Formula 3, and I’d just won my first race and I felt like I was on top of the world, and we were actually in Australia so hometown advantage I guess. But anyway, I was at some random restaurant afterwards with my parents cos I was still only 18 I think, and a girl came up to me, to be fair she was wearing a Daniel Ricciardo t-shirt so clearly I wasn’t the main target, and I was signing a RedBull cap too, so maybe that was a premonition or something, but yeah, that was a very cute moment. My parents took a photo of us cos they were so proud that I was getting recognised in public. Hey, if you’re watching, Sarah from Geelong, I still remember that day.” Kit waved her pen towards the camera and smiled to herself before racking her brain for something else to talk about. 

“Um, anyway, moving on. This is my driver’s room, as I said. I sorta just hang out in here, especially now that we can’t really use hospitality areas…” 

After a solid twenty minutes, Kit was sick of the sound of her own voice, her throat was getting sore, and she’d run out of hats which meant she had nothing left to do with her hands, but Olive seemed to be happy that there was enough content to edit a video out of and cut in when Kit seemed to be running out of steam.

“Alright, I reckon we can call it there. You’ve got an interview with Sky Sports soon anyway.” 

“Yay.” Kit said sarcastically as she slipped her mask back on. That video had used up most of the energy she had going into the day, so she was both grateful and annoyed that it was first on her agenda. That nice rested feeling she’d had prior was gone, and now she was back to dreading the rest of her schedule. 

“Sorry that was a bit awkward for you, I’m actually really impressed that you managed to talk for that long.” Olive continued. 

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised I didn’t tell more weirdly specific childhood stories. Do you think you could cut that part out?” 

Olive’s mask shifted, and Kit could tell she was making a face. “What? No way, that was such a cute story. Plus, you know, shows you’re down to earth, humble beginnings.” 

“Mm, okay, but please take out that bit where I started singing, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Kit laughed.

“Oh yeah, I’ve already made a note of that, don’t worry.” Olive paused, and Kit worried she’d somehow freaked out the younger girl again before she continued. “If anything, I was worried that you might accidentally say something about, you know…”

Kit gave her a questioning look. “I don’t think I do know.” 

Olive checked the door to the driver’s room to check that the cameraman had gone and closed the door behind him. “You know, like, you and Max?” 

Kit’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She didn’t even realise she was coughing until Olive was pushing a water bottle into her hands. Her head felt emptied of any possible reply and also spinning with the thoughts that were rushing through her mind. 

“Oh, so, not, you and Max, then.” Olive stammered awkwardly, patting Kit on the back lightly as she began to calm down.

“Um, no, no, not really, I mean, why would you think that there was, like, something?” Kit eventually asked once she’d swallowed a whole mouthful of water without feeling like she was about to cough it up again. 

“Oh, just because you were living together in lockdown I assumed, you know, there was something there.” 

Kit nearly started coughing again but tried to take a long deep breath in through her nose and allow some oxygen to flow to her brain. It sucked in her mask uncomfortably against her face, but she was glad for a partial shield from the other girl. She already felt so exposed. 

“So, uh, is this like common knowledge, or?” Kit was seriously having to focus on breathing now. Her brain was short circuiting and she didn’t know if she was even panicking because she couldn’t really think about any of this properly. 

“No, no, I mean, I sort of thought it was a private but not secret situation, but I’ve never heard anyone talk about it or anything.” Olive was sitting next to her now, running her hand up and down Kit’s back, so clearly she didn’t look too hot on the outside either. She was calming down mildly now that she realised this was more of a personal theory than widespread gossip, but it was still a shock to hear someone else bring up her and Max living together. 

“How did you know?” 

“I just figured it out a few weeks into lockdown, you know, some things on Instagram and just the way you were both talking about what you were up to in meetings, I wasn’t like super certain or anything.”

“So if you know, surely other people have figured it out too?” 

“A few fans on Twitter and stuff, but to be fair most people are either fans of you or Max, it doesn’t really cross over. Your fans are very defensive of the fact that you would never move in with him because obviously you hate him. But again, it’s only a couple of people, I don’t think anyone here has noticed.” Olive was tapping away on her phone to pull up a few screenshots, and Kit felt a wave of gratitude that she was so young. For the first time since they’d met, she was beginning to think that the girl was actually incredibly qualified for this job. 

“So, okay, yeah. Maybe it’s a good thing that you know about it, you can like, keep it all under control, right?” Kit ran her hands up and down her legs to self-soothe along with her words. 

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll let you know if any like, real proof gets out, but for now it’s basically a conspiracy theory. And just to check, you’re just living together right? Nothing else I need to keep under control?” 

Kit looked into Olive’s eyes and tried to quell the debate raging inside of her. Her instant reaction was to deny it all, but she supposed it wouldn’t be that bad for her PR agent to know the truth. 

“You cannot tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.” Kit watched Olive’s eyes light up momentarily and instantly regretted her words. “Olive, I’m not kidding, okay? No one knows, not my family, not any of my friends, no one at work, nobody knows and nobody can know.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. I’m sorry, I’ve just been wondering about it ever since Cath got me this job, but I’m not excited because I’m gonna go telling everyone. Kit, I promise. It wouldn’t exactly give me an easy job if it got out that you were dating your teammate.” 

Kit breathed out. “Okay, alright, good point. It’s kinda complicated, how long until that Sky thing?” 

Olive checked her watch. “We’ve got about 5 minutes. Walk and talk?” 

Kit squeezed her eyes shut to pretend for just a moment that this wasn’t her life and that she hadn’t been so naive as to believe that a relationship with her teammate could go unnoticed by everyone. But then she opened them again and was back in real life, and knew that her best chance of avoiding some kind of disaster was to at least tell her PR girl so she could ward off more unwanted conspiracies.

“Okay, fine. I’m not gonna say any names, and if anyone asks we're talking about a movie, okay?”

“Yep, got it.”

By the time they arrived at the Sky set up, Kit could tell that Olive was definitely grinning under her mask, and it did make her feel mildly better about the whole thing. It was nice to sort of gush about herself and Max, even if she told the abridged version in third person to uphold their alibi if anyone stopped to join in the conversation.

“You say a word of this to anyone and you’ll lose your job and all prospects of another one, ‘kay?” Kit whispered as she saw Natalie going over her notes.

“Yep, got it.” Olive nodded enthusiastically, not put off at all by Kit’s threatening tone. She didn't know whether or not she actually had the power to do any of that, but it felt cool to say and she would rather run over her own foot than have people find out about her and Max. She took her seat in front of Natalie and tried to take in some deep breaths despite the mask. No one else knew. Olive had used the combined effort of Instagram, zoom meetings where she was probably paying less attention than she should’ve been, and the ability of teenage girls to see everyone as potential romantic partners to put together the puzzle pieces that added up to Kit and Max being a thing. No one else knew, because no one else cared enough to try and know. It was okay, it was all going to be okay. 

Kit sat in her pre-race press conference several hours later, anticipating every question with a drop in her stomach as if each journalist had somehow figured out the same things Olive had. She was sitting six feet from Lando, her press conference partner, and felt both sorry for him and sorry for herself that he was accompanying her. Essentially every question was for her, so he was both bored and unable to deflect any attention away from her. 

“Question for Kit, from Daniel Betteridge, Autosport. How do you think the dynamics within the team will affect your race this weekend, and do you think that there’s potential for any sort of team orders to get the championship back on track for RedBull?” 

Kit wished that the journalist was really here in the room so that she could glare at him over her mask instead of just having to clench her fist and grit her teeth in annoyance. 

“Would you be able to clarify what you mean by ‘back on track’?” Kit asked, raising her hands to show the quotation marks. 

“Oh, just that, well, Max has had a lot of time and money invested in his career by RedBull, it seems obvious that they would want their first champion since Sebastian to be him.” 

Clearly it was a lot easier for journalists to have balls when they didn’t actually have to look the drivers in the eye. 

“Um, well, for me it seems more obvious that the team will prioritise a good team result, and if it’s me or Max winning races, I don’t think they really care. And for your earlier question, the race this weekend will be decided by how fast Max and I drive, not anything to do with the team. So, yeah.” Kit concluded abruptly. 

“Mitchell Moses, Motorsport.com, question for Kit. Has anything changed between last weekend and this weekend that may inhibit you from winning again?” 

Kit suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Obviously every team implements changes in between races to try and improve, even if it’s only to cut down lap times by half a tenth, so I can’t say what the other teams have done since last weekend. In terms of us, we’re doing what we can to make tweaks to improve the car and take some lessons from the last race to get better, and obviously winning last week is a good sign for the weekend to come, but also anything can happen and while a win is my goal, it’s not guaranteed just because I won last week.” 

“Sabine Heinzberger, Automobilsport, question for Lando.” The younger driver perked up in his seat, and Kit released a breath of relief. She was close to cracking and yelling at them all that there was no reason why ‘the team’ should play such a big role in her questions, as if they were some kind of all-powerful dictator that selected the chosen one before each race and not a team of engineers that just wanted to see a RedBull cross the finish line before all the other cars. If they’d heard some of the things Hugh had told her in confidence, she was sure they would stop believing that she was having to grovel just to get her tyres changed every race. 

“God they’re annoying.” Olive muttered as they were finally permitted to leave the room. 

“You’re telling me.” Kit replied. She looked up from checking the time on her phone to see Max walking down the same corridor with his PR officer and father in tow, her steps faltering for a moment before she recovered herself.

“Hey Kit, how were they?” Max asked casually, pausing his walking for a chat. For a moment Kit marvelled at how he managed to stay so calm and collected before remembering that he didn’t know that Olive knew. That someone else outside of their little bubble knew that there was something going on. Kit would make sure to reiterate the fact that her and Max weren’t actually a couple to Olive a few more times that day just so she properly understood what page they were on. 

“Yeah, not too bad. Lots of shit about ‘the team’ and whether or not I’ll be permitted to win another race, but you don’t really have to worry about that.” Kit laughed, praying that she didn’t sound too stilted as she did so. Her eyes momentarily flickered to Jos, who didn’t seem to find her words very amusing at all, and she was actually scared for a split second that his eyes were going to burn holes through her forehead like lasers from how intensely he was glaring at her.

“Oh, okay, cool. Easy day for me then.” Max replied stonily before turning and continuing down the hallway. Kit heard that familiar undercurrent in his voice, a sharp biting that wanted to make her annoyed, and it was working. If she was a cat, she was sure she’d be up on her haunches. 

“He’s so fucking annoying.” Kit said to Olive, more out of habit than sincerity, and noted the taken aback expression on the younger girl’s face. “Not, like, just when we’re racing, I mean.” 

“You don’t have to explain it to me, I caught up on your little feud from last year. It was part of my training.” Kit couldn’t tell whether or not she was joking, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t. 

“It’s just, sometimes he’s, you know, and then sometimes he’s just, ugh.” Kit said, flailing her hands around in front of her weakly as if that helped illustrate her obfuscated point. 

“Mm, yeah, totally.” Olive laughed, and Kit groaned in reply. 

“Okay, maybe it is good that you know about...us. Now I won’t feel like I’m going insane whenever he says anything to me.” 

“Oo, I love being a confidante.” Kit shot Olive a steely glare. “For the close friendship aspect, not for the knowledge-is-social-currency aspect, don’t worry.” Olive bumped her arm against Kit’s, and she felt weirdly comforted. 

“Okay, actually that reminds me, I have to do something, when’s my next interview?” 

Olive checked her phone, her google calendar so aggressively colour coded that it actually looked harder to read. “Not for an hour, this is basically your lunch break so you should eat something.” 

“Epic, not to ditch you, but I sorta have to make a call, you don’t mind, right?” 

Olive shook her head enthusiastically. “No, not at all. Go for it.” 

Once Kit had finally made it back to the privacy of her driver’s room, sandwich in hand, she opened the phone and didn’t have to scroll at all to see the name to redial. It was a bit late in Sydney, but the call connected anyway. 

“Hey Kit, what’s up?” 

“Cece, bro, do I have the fucking story of a lifetime for you. Spoiler alert, it's about me and Max."

Chapter Text

Kit sat in the post-race press conference three days later, champagne soaked once more and grinning brightly under her mask. Two in a row, she had won two in a row . She knew her eyes were crinkling up at the corners and she probably looked like a giddy child, especially with her leg bouncing up and down in a jittering manner, but she truly didn't care. Two in a fucking row. And she was a whole thirty seconds clear of second place, her win couldn't be disputed. She was just faster. Faster than Max, who hadn't looked at her since they’d stepped out of the car. The feud-fiending reporters would have a field day. 

Olive was standing in the back of the press room, a grin also clear under her mask. She was rocking up and down on the balls of her feet, clutching a notepad to her chest. The first thing she'd said to Kit once she was off the podium was ‘say whatever you want, you’ve earned it.’ Kit obviously wouldn't be taking that advice, but the freedom was a nice contrast from the rest of RedBull’s highly strung marketing people. And the excitement over her, quite frankly epic, win was also well appreciated after being met with glares from the Verstappen outfit of Jos and Helmut. Christian was mildly better, but she didn't miss his consoling shoulder squeeze as Max stepped off the podium. Last week, a similar performance would've made her blood boil, but this week was different. It wasn't a fluke or a mistake or dumb luck. She’d earnt that fucking win and everbody knew it.

“We’ll kick off with Kit. Fairly smooth sailing today, you practically stayed out the front for the entire race, would you say it was an easy win?” 

She gripped the arm of her chair and felt her smile drop. 

“No, not really.” She said sharply. She watched Olive’s shoulders drop marginally and felt a pang of guilt that her snappiness would be on the younger girl’s head, so she elaborated slightly. “I think as a team we were definitely building off of the momentum of last week, but I didn't have a great start and spent the first few laps trying to maintain position, and after that it was balancing the tyres and the fuel with trying to extend the gap as much as possible.” 

“Winning the first two races of the season, especially such a disrupted one, has gotta feel pretty amazing, are you optimistic about the rest of the year?” 

“Yeah, I would say so.” Her smile returned. Damn right she was optimistic, she was on fire.

“Now Max, as Kit mentioned you were grappling for the lead early on in the race, do you think that those first few laps were what decided your race?” 

Kit turned to look at him for the first time since she'd gotten into the car a few hours ago, when she blushed under her helmet after he winked at her from under his. There was no such playful exchange this time around. Max was glaring straight ahead, his fingers tapping his knee. His brows were furrowed, and if Kit was the reporter she'd probably have a brown spot on her pants.

“I think that, even if I had gotten in front it wouldn't really have mattered, Kit was just too fast today. She was thirty seconds in front by the end, I mean, there was nothing I could do.” She could practically hear his teeth grinding.  

“Some are speculating that Kit is the new favourite for the world championship and that the team is favouring her now, you don't think that’s the case?”

“No.” Max practically spat, and didn't choose to elaborate. Kit smiled lightly under her mask. Even in a shitty mood, he wasn't making a cheap shot at her. That she could appreciate. She found it easy to zone out on a broken light fixture at the back of the room for the rest of the press conference, only blinking herself back into focus when her name was called from the journalists phoning in. She had won, after all, this was usually an easy job for the winner.

“Alright, last question, I think.” Kit’s ears twitched in instinctual excitement at the words. “Max, do you feel potentially…” The journalist trailed off, and Kit’s stomach churned at his hesitation. He was hesitating because he knew that Max wasn't going to react well, which meant it involved him not winning. Which for Max was losing. Which unfortunately in this case also involved Kit.

“Well, potentially hard done by, in the fact that you've been racing with RedBull in Formula 1 since 2016, whereas Kit hasn't even completed a full season with the team yet. Does that bother you, the fact that the car seems to be suiting her so much better?” Kit looked over at Max, fear coiling in her own stomach. His eyebrows furrowed and his hand had stilled, now coiled into a fist. 

“Of course, but not for the reasons that you said.” He replied sharply, having to readjust his mask over his nose from how aggressively he was speaking. “I don’t like to lose, especially not to my teammate. That is that, it doesn't matter how long she's been here. So yes I’m bothered, but I don't feel that it's unfair. Even if she deserves to win, I will still feel annoyed that I’m not winning.” The press room was only filled with the sound of people breathing.

“Well, alright, I think we'll end it on that one.” The main journalist said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly and widening his eyes as he glanced over at the cameraman. There was no way Max could’ve missed it with the way his eyes were trained onto the man, and his glare was nearly as terrifying as his father’s. Kit naturally made the comparison in her mind because Jos had been lurking around the paddock all weekend, and she’d received a fair few glares from him after each session. 

“Hey, Max.” Kit said softly as they made their way out of the room. She nearly reached out to grab his hand on instinct but forced herself to redirect it and cross her arms over her chest. 

“What?” He grunted. Their PR girls lurked behind them as they made their way back outside, and Kit tried to tune out the chattering of the two young women. “Those were shitty questions.” Kit couldn’t think of anything else sympathetic to say. After all, her heart was still beating out of her chest after her second consecutive win. It was hard to pity any opponent in that situation. 

“Yeah, like you give a fuck.” Max grunted and rolled his eyes.

“Max.” Kit said sternly, and when he didn’t look over at her she elbowed him in the side to get his attention. 

Their eyes held each other's for a moment before he looked back down at the ground. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine. Just…wait in your driver’s room later, yeah?” Kit whispered. 

“Why, gonna give me a consolation prize?” Max chuckled stiffly and winked over at her. Kit rolled her eyes but laughed along too, happy to accept his forced relaxation over the cold shoulder.

“You were only in second, bucko.” 

Max turned his head from side to side, and Kit mirrored him to see what he could be looking at. They were headed back into the main media pen, so naturally they were surrounded by team members, media, and cameras. Max obviously noticed this, but didn’t seem to care as he slung his fire-proof clad arm over her shoulder and squeezed lightly. 

“Good job, by the way.” He said quietly into her ear. 

“Max…” Kit trailed off as she noticed a few questioning glances shot in their direction. 

“What? I can’t put my arm around my teammate?” He laughed.

“Not when you’re supposed to hate me.” Kit said sharply but not shrugging him off either. This proximity felt nice after a few days of the cold shoulder. 

“Says who?” He grinned under his mask and squeezed her around the shoulders again before being led off to a different section of the pen to Kit. She was sweating buckets but still missed the warmth around her shoulders. 

“Kit, second consecutive win, it’s gotta feel pretty good?” Natalie Pinkham beamed from under her mask. 

“Fuck yeah it does.” Kit grinned, not able to help herself from turning her head to see if Max overheard her profanity. The shaking in his shoulders told her that he did. Olive gave her a pinch on the back of her hand, but she didn’t care. 

“Now, in the press conference things seemed slightly icy between yourself and Mr Verstappen, but just then we witnessed quite a beautiful image of teammate solidarity, something quite rare between the two of you. Would you say that the tension is easing as perhaps you prove yourself a bit more in the team?” 

Kit laughed to herself, thinking about just how much tension had melted between the two of them since last year. Another, slightly less sharp pinch on the back of the hand reminded her of where she was, and she blinked herself out of her brief daydream. “A bit, sure. We’re still competitive, but things are definitely improving since last year.” 

Natalie smiled to herself under her mask at being granted an affirmative to her journalistic suspicions. “Is that potentially why you’re finding so much success at the moment then?” 

“Um,” Kit stalled, “I think it’s just a really quick car, and it’s suiting my driving style and responding to me really well, and this circuit also seems to suit our car and the way Max and I drive, so I’d say it’s a lot of factors really.” 

“Well, best of luck for the rest of the season, I know I’ll be rooting for the first ever female champion.” 

“Thanks Nat.” Kit grinned before moving on. 

She should’ve known that the post-race media started off too good to be true.

“Are there any differences between your car and Max’s?” 

“RedBull already has the youngest world champion, are they now gunning for the first female champion as well?” 

“Has there been any discussion within the team as to whose championship this one will be?” 

“Do you think it’s really plausible to believe that you could be besting your male teammate in truly equal machinery?” At this question Kit had to curl her fingers around the metal barrier in front of her to stop from smacking the man in front of her.

“Yes.” She said sharply. 

“I think that will be all for today.” Olive interjected as she wound her elbow through Kit’s and led her out of the media pen. Thankfully that was the last journalist for the evening, and she could retreat back to the privacy of the motorhome where no one would be questioning her integrity. The privacy of the motorhome where she could slink into Max’s room undetected and melt into his arms. 

She’d only just stepped foot away from the buzzing group of journalists when she was intercepted by a blur of neon yellow, and although she was grateful for Daniel’s presence, she also felt disappointment boil in her stomach as she realised she was at least another full conversation length away from a warm shower and clean clothes. “Winner winner chicken dinner.” She didn’t need x-ray vision to make out the grin under Daniel’s mask that accompanied his words. 

“That’s me baby.” Kit laughed, trying not to display her eagerness to get away. 

“You know it. Shame the media are such shitheads though.” Daniel sighed. Kit had to admit, it felt nice for the media’s penchant for picking on her to be noticed by someone other than herself. 

“Makes me more of an underdog, what can I say?” Kit laughed, but she noticed how she was forcing her shoulders to move in accompaniment with her chuckles. 

“Hey Kit, we’d better hurry along, not long until the meeting.” Olive said from behind her as she tapped her on the shoulder. Kit sent the younger girl a quizzical glance and tilted her head slightly as the engineering meeting wasn’t starting for another 45 minutes, until Olive widened her eyes marginally and Kit realised that she had heard her whisper to Max before and knew that she wanted to get back to the motorhome quickly. 

“Sorry Dan, catcha later?” Kit smiled.

“‘Course.” 

“You are a gem.” Kit said to Olive once she was out of ear shot. 

“What can I say, maybe I can get a promotion to your PA and not just a PR girl.” Olive grinned. 

“Oi, it’s only been two races, cool your jets.” Kit laughed in return, but silently agreed that if the girl could read her this well already, she wouldn’t be unwelcome as a right hand woman. She showered in the flashest of flashes and allowed herself a small victory dance in the confines of her tiny bathroom to commemorate the moment. Two time, consecutive race winner. That was Kit . 

She let out a squeal as she re-entered her main driver’s room, but not because of giddiness over her win. No, she nearly jumped out of her skin in fright and let out the most horrific pig-like noise because Max was resting casually on her couch scrolling his phone in all his warm, soft, clean glory. His head shot up and she let out the noise before he dissolved into quiet peels of laughter. 

“Jesus, schatje, I’m not a serial killer.” 

“Could’ve fooled me, haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” Kit scolded lightly as she sat down next to him, nuzzling into his side like a homesick cat. 

“Your PR girl snuck me in. By the way, since when were we telling people?” Max asked with a suspicious smile on his face that Kit didn’t have the energy to decode or pull him up on. She simply closed her eyes and let out a deep, contented breath through her nose. 

“She figured it out herself. Isn’t it useful though?” She reopened her eyes to look up at him and make sure she hadn’t actually pissed him off, but the kiss that planted itself on her forehead spoke more words of affection than Max ever had. 

“Mm, I s’pose. She won’t tell anyone, right?” 

“I’ve threatened her with life or death, we’re good.” Kit said, and Max’s chest jolted with his chuckle. 

“Um, about before…” Max began and then trailed off. Kit pushed herself off his chest slightly to look at him. 

“What about before?” 

“Me, being all, me. I’m a sore loser, in case you couldn’t tell.” Max laughed lightly at himself and scratched the back of his neck. Kit realised that this was the first she’d seen of him without a mask on in days, and couldn’t help herself reaching out to trace the faint indents of his balaclava on his cheeks. 

“Hmm, really? Hadn’t noticed.” Kit chuckled, but Max’s brows were still sewn together tightly. “Seriously Max, it’s fine. You’re not calling me names in the press anymore, now are you? We aren’t having anymore public fights either, so I’d say we’re improving massively.” Max actually cracked a smile, and Kit felt her heart explode in the knowledge that she’d made him smile. 

“I guess. I’m still so, I don’t know. One second I actually hate you, and then after I get out of the car and I see you, like I actually see you and you’re not just something my dad’s yelling at me for or the name ahead of me on the timesheets, it’s like it’s all okay again.” Max was practically whispering now.

“Maxie, it’s okay. This was never gonna be easy. Just wait until you win a race and I’ll be such a bitch to you that you won’t even remember how you could ever have liked me at all.” Kit had placed her chin on his shoulder, her nose pressing into his cheek, which placed her in prime position to receive his gentle peck when he turned his face to the side. 

“And I’m sorry that you get asked such shitty questions.” Max tacked on after a solid few minutes of smooching. 

“Shh, I don’t wanna think about that now.” Kit said, placing her index finger over his lips before replacing it with her mouth. 

“Seriously, next time we’re in a press conference together I’ll say something.” Max mumbled under Kit’s forceful kisses. 

“Oo, my knight in shining armour, I can’t wait.” Kit smiled through her kisses. She braved a glance at her watch and felt relieved to see that they still had 15 minutes until the meeting. That was more than enough time to make out with Max on her couch like a pair of teenagers. 

A ding sounded through the room, and while Kit was willing to ignore it if it was her own phone, Max pulled away (at least reluctantly) to check his. His expression instantly gained several kilos of weight, like he’d aged 10 years in reading one message, and Kit had seen him repeat that action enough times to know what it meant. 

“It’s, uh, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.” Max said, placing one more kiss on her forehead before opening the door and disappearing back out into the small hallway. The door hadn’t even closed all the way before Olive was pushing it back open again and sitting herself down where Max had been just moments before. 

“What was that? When I let him in he looked like a hungry schoolboy ready for his lunch.” Olive muttered. 

Kit pushed her on the arm in reprimand. “Ew, don’t be disgusting. Anyway, I’d bet my salary that that was his dad.” Kit sighed. 

“Jos? Yeah, he seems a bit…highly strung?” Olive said diplomatically. 

“He’s a dickhead douchebag from hell.” Kit grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Well, that too.” Olive agreed. “And he doesn’t seem to like you very much.” 

“Huh, what gave it away?” Kit replied sarcastically. 

“Him and Marko are always gossiping about you. They’re worse than my school mates.” Olive said, not picking up on Kit’s joking tone. 

“What do you mean?” Kit asked inquisitively. 

“My dad’s German, so I know a bit. And well, when you’re out on the track there isn’t a whole lot for me to do, so I sort of just, eavesdrop? I guess?” Olive said, realising how unprofessional she sounded with each word that left her mouth. Kit couldn’t care less though. 

“Oh Olive, you’re the best PR girl I’ve ever had.” Kit smiled. “You’re like my little double agent.” 

Olive giggled like a schoolgirl. “Shut up, thank you. Anyway, you should go soon. If I’m gonna be your PA, I’d better stay on top of your schedule.” 

“Damn right.” Kit grinned before slipping a mask on over her ears and making her way down to the engineering meeting room. Hugh was the only one in there, much to Kit’s relief, and she took her usual spot next to him. 

“Tough day at the office?” Kit greeted him jokingly as she sat down next to his slightly slumped figure. 

“Always, but you made it a bit easier today.” He smiled at her tiredly under his mask. 

“I try.” She wasn't granted too much alone time with her engineer, because shortly after Jos and Max entered the room, both their matching eyes sporting stormy expressions. If Max had been relaxed, if not a bit upset about his loss before, he was positively fuming now. His shoulders were bunched up and his fingers were tapping on his thighs like he was performing a sonata on a piano. It didn’t help that Jos was whispering rapid fire Dutch into his ear that sounded anything but encouraging. Kit clenched her right fist together in anger. She didn’t just hate Jos, no. She loathed him. 

“Max, Kit, excellent work today. I know I said so before, but wow, you really blew me away on the track out there.” Christian said glowingly, as ever oblivious to the tension between either side of the table. 

“Thanks mate.” Kit said obligingly, reaching out to her boss for an appreciative handshake but being pulled in for a fatherly hug instead. Max simply grunted and didn’t uncross his arms from his chest, but Christian looked too tired and too pleased with a 1-2 finish to push the matter. 

Kit couldn’t focus on a word that was said. It was just like last week. She couldn’t take her eyes off Max and the tempest raging behind his eyes. She chanted in her head, look at me, look at me , but nothing. She couldn’t understand how a fully grown man could have the mood swings of a toddler, and couldn’t understand herself for caring this much. They weren’t technically a couple, if he needed to act like this because of some deep seated inability to lose, then so be it. It wasn’t her problem. 

And yet the fact that she was actually jolted back to reality by Hugh’s hand on her shoulder at the end of the meeting showed her that it was her problem, whether she wanted it to be or not. Max had wiggled his way into her life and no amount of brooding, oscillating, unregulated emotions could let him wiggle back out again.

“Hey, Max.” She tried to grab his elbow as they walked down the paddock towards the car park, something instinctual within her needing to see that everything was okay between them. His arm recoiled away from her fingers, and she barely received a look in acknowledgement in return. She hated that she felt tears welling in her eyes at his unresponsiveness. 

It wasn’t until she stood adjacent to him in the carpark that her tears began to fall properly. As he took off his mask, a red hand print stood out faintly against his pale red cheek, only visible if you know to look for it. She sat in the driver’s seat of her hire car in shock for a few moments, before unlocking her phone to text him. She knew that she owed him nothing after his off-again on-again behaviour, but she couldn’t help herself. 

we need to talk

mad max 😡 : tomorrow

Kit locked her phone and took a few deep breaths to compose herself before driving home. It was lucky that no team celebrations could take place under covid laws, because if she had seen Jos Verstappen once more that night, she probably would’ve killed him. 

Chapter Text

The moment Kit opened her eyes, she knew she had to get out of the hotel. Her muscles groaned as they stretched outwards from her body, and she even let out a squeak of satisfaction as the tension melted into the mattress below. The same white doona blended in with the white curtains and white walls, the blurriness of her sleepy gaze losing any dimension and causing the room to feel as though it was closing in on her. She needed to go for a run. At least then she could think through what she was going to say to Max. 

It wasn't overly early, nor was the weather outside bad, so really Kit’s self assurances that she wouldn't be seen by anyone were entirely unbased. This made her outfit choice of an old, holey, Manly rugby jersey and stained trackie shorts all the more brave. But she didn’t really give herself time to think about what she was wearing. She barely remembered to take her phone, headphones, and key card with her as she sped out of the hotel and down into the Styrian streets outside. She put on Metallica, turning up the volume until the drums of Enter Sandman were louder than her surrounds, and set off on her run. 

The pavement below her sent harsh jolts through her legs with every stride, the strong force at which she was thrusting her body forward being absorbed painfully by her knees. She could hear her own panting in her ears, and after a few swift kilometres, feel sweat beading at the nape of her neck. Instead of thinking through a rational plan of action, she let her emotions swell in whatever way they desired, followed her evolving train of thought like a trail of breadcrumbs that would give her an answer as to what she should do, what her argument was going to be. 

More thumping soles on concrete. More anger and frustration than affection. As much as she wanted to cling on to the feeling of his arm over her shoulder, or his hot breath in her ear giving her congratulations, the fact she had to cling to the nice thoughts of him at all only fed into her frustration. She didn’t want to be clinging , she wanted to be relishing. Frolicking in a love sick haze. Instead, she was sifting through their interactions, trying to cherry pick out the positives but finding that they’d already been tainted by the negatives. 

Her nose scrunched in frustration, and the Metallica was only feeding her annoyance. She didn’t really care. In fact, it felt nice to let her Max-induced rage envelop her once more. It had been so long since the last time she’d felt so angry at him. Even disregarding the preceding weeks of hot and cold, just using the day before as a microcosm of their relationship was enough to get her blood boiling. His mood swings, his dismissiveness, his detestation of her win. She was just replaying the moment from the night before where he shook her off after the engineering meeting, not able to stop her mind from playing out a scenario in which she ended up spilling out all her grievances at the top of her lungs. It was fairly cathartic, in all honesty. 

Kit had no idea where she’d run to, and as delicious as the burning in her legs was, she knew her trainer would have her head if she overexerted herself during what was already a physically demanding period of the season. She spotted a courtyard several hundred metres down the street, and used it as a turning circle to steer herself back towards the hotel. Two teenage boys were paused on their bikes, legs extended to the ground on either side of the pedals to steady themselves. Both were staring at her, mouths gaping open. She grinned at them and waved, now conscious that her expression had probably been thunderous moments earlier. Neither responded in any way, and Kit was grateful for the fact that they didn’t ask for a photo. Not that she was embarrassed about how she looked, but she didn’t want Olive to get on her case about it. 

The momentary lapse in hyper focus on how infuriated she was by Max allowed her to clear her mind. She didn’t feel as much of that pent up rage anymore now that she’d had such an intense imaginary fight with Max, but knew that if she was berating him in her head, it was probably best to call things off. After all, it was bound to fail eventually. 

Her resolve to end whatever it was between her and Max was sturdy by the time she’d run back to the hotel, and yet it crumbled the second she approached her room and saw Max leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. He was in trackie shorts and a hoodie, and looked so soft and comfortable that she just wanted to fold right back into his arms again. He looked up towards her as her footsteps came into his earshot, and Kit was happy, in a twisted sort of painful way, to see a certain frustration in his eyes too. 

“Hey.” She said, her voice raspy from not speaking to anyone that morning and lack of water. 

“Hey.” He replied flatly. Now that she was closer, the remorse in his face far overshadowed animosity. She wanted to reach out and smooth a thumb over one of his cheekbones, but she stopped herself. That wasn’t going to be her problem anymore. She produced her keycard from her pocket and he moved back behind her so that she could unlock the door. His right hand came to rest on her hip casually, and she held back a deep sigh of confliction. 

“So…” She trailed off as she filled her water bottle from the bathroom sink and took large, long gulps from it. 

“You look hot.” He said with a bemused smile on his face, already sitting on her bed.

“Max.” Kit tried to shoot him a look of scorn, but couldn’t help the corners of her mouth from upturning. 

“Sorry, I’ll try to be serious.” He grinned. Kit felt her heart drop. She couldn’t do it. She was such a wuss, and she knew it needed to be done for both their sakes, but she couldn’t fucking do it. 

“Are you ready to explain yourself?” She leant her bum on the desk opposite the bed, still standing up. She couldn’t level herself with him, or she would fold right back into his arms. 

“It’s complicated.” He looked over to the window, no longer grinning. 

“Our whole lives are fucking complicated, you’re gonna have to come up with something better than that.” Kit replied sharply. She felt some of that anger from her run build up again. Jesus, why couldn’t she fucking pick a side and stick to it. For the first time, she empathised with Max’s mood swings. 

“I don’t know what to fucking say, okay?” He raised his voice slightly.

“How about ‘sorry I have the emotional regulation and sportsmanship of a child and you’re always the one that has to deal with it’?” Kit snapped back. 

“I think I’ve already said that to you a few times.” Max chuckled without any humour, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Then change something!” Kit huffed. She hated that she was losing her cool faster than Max. That was fairly unusual for her. 

“It’s not that simple, Kit.” Max sighed. 

“Why? Hmm? Why?”

“Oh, fuck me Kit, I don’t know? Maybe it’s because I’ve been like this for 22 years and I can’t just change overnight?” There it was, he’d snapped too. 

“You could try.” Kit replied. 

“Yeah, maybe I could. But why should I? Being like this got me this far, why should I change now?” Max asked incredulously. 

Kit seethed silently for a moment before crafting a response. “You’re right.” 

“What?” Max’s gaze finally snapped back to hers.

“You’re right. If you really don’t see me as worth changing for, then you shouldn’t change.”

Max sighed. “Kit, that’s not what I meant-”

“No!” Kit shrugged away from his outreaching hand. “No, it is what you mean. Nothing is as important as racing for you, and I get that. Maybe I was naive to think that you could at least prioritise me some of the time, but clearly that’s not possible. I won’t fight for a championship with you while also having to be your fucking emotional regulator and put up with whatever shit you throw at me, I won’t fucking do it.” 

Max just huffed out a cold laugh, but didn’t respond. “What, hmm?” Kit interrogated. 

“You’re only naive to think that you can actually fight for this championship.” He replied. 

Kit nearly screamed in frustration. “This is what I’m fucking talking about! Just accept that you can’t win all the time, Max! Just fucking accept it now and make your life a little bit less miserable for yourself and for everyone around you.” 

“You would say that.” He replied. “My dad was right.” 

Kit scoffed. “Your dad was what now?”

“He was right. I should’ve listened to him all along.”

“Listen as he tells you that you shouldn’t be losing, nevertheless to a girl, hmm? Is that really the advice you wanna take with you to first place?”

“If I’m in first place, it doesn’t matter how I got there.” 

Max was standing up now. Kit couldn’t remember him getting up and off the bed, but now she was acutely aware of the fact that he was looking down at her. She felt so much anger towards him that she wanted to crush him in her fist. 

“This is never gonna work and I was stupid for thinking it would.” Kit hissed quietly. Max reached forward and grabbed her face in his large hands, almost too tightly, and brought it forward to press his mouth against hers. Kit’s mind went blank and her body began working on instinct, grabbing and clawing and kissing the man in front of her until she felt like her mouth was going to fall off. It was only when his hands moved from her face to her waist that she seemed to re-enter her body and push away from him. “No, nu-uh, get out.” She shook her head rapidly. 

Max just stood stagnant, in shock, his mouth half open and his hands frozen mid-air. “Get, go. This is over. That’s not happening again, okay?” Kit said as she pushed him gently towards the door. 

“Yeah, okay.” Max replied, still slightly dazed. 

“I’ll see you in Hungary.” Kit bid farewell before closing the door on him, not waiting for his reply. Stupid fucking horny boy and his stupid fucking kissing. She couldn’t even feel angry at him anymore. Just flustered and a little bit horny.

She discarded her sweaty clothes as she walked into the bathroom, turning the water on lukewarm and jumping in straight away before even a little bit of warmth could enter the jet. She rubbed her hands over her eyes aggressively as if that would wipe the past ten minutes from her memory. At least she’d achieved what she wanted to. Sort of. Her and Max had broken things off. Sort of. She could focus on her racing now, properly. Not that she thought he was distracting her much before, but there needed to be some kind of plus side to all of this. Now that she stood under the cold shower stream alone, she was beginning to forget why it was that she wanted to end things with him anyway. She was going to need to start writing a diary to keep track of her erratic, ever-changing trains of thought.

The fluffy white towels felt less claustrophobic and more luxurious now that Kit had cured her temporary cabin fever, and she used up both in a rare display of relaxation for her body and hair. She was so enjoying the feeling of the soft linen on her body that the sight of her plane ticket for that afternoon to Hungary sent a jolt of dread through her body. She plucked her phone off the desk where she’d set it down earlier and clicked on what was becoming one of her more regularly used contacts. 

“Yes boss?” Olive said as she picked up the phone. She was mid chewing something, presumably her breakfast, and Kit smiled to herself. 

“I like the sound of that.” Kit laughed. “But anyway, if you wanna be my PA this can be a little test for you.” 

“Mm?” Olive hummed in curiosity. 

“Would you potentially be able to get me a car so that I could drive to Hungary instead of fly? I know it’s a waste of a ticket, but I just, um…” Kit trailed off. 

“Trouble in paradise, I get it. I’ll call you back when I’ve got one.” Olive laughed. 

“Thank you, god you’re a glorious woman.” 

“I try, I really do.” 

Kit instantly felt lighter. She was a Formula 1 driver for a reason, she loved a nice, long drive. She could listen to music, watch the road go by, but most importantly, not be in close proximity to one Max Verstappen. Olive could get her the shittiest of shitbox Renaults and she would still take that over being in first class near him . If not to spare herself of the awkwardness, just avoiding any residual sexual tension would be worth it. 

Her phone began to buzz just moments after she’d put on her typical travelling outfit, and her good mood was slightly dampened by seeing Christian’s contact appear. 

“Hello?” She said with faux innocence. She didn’t know what she could be in trouble for yet, but she didn’t want to sound guilty and indict herself. 

“Kit, how are you?” Christian asked in a jolly voice. Okay, so maybe not in trouble. Yet. 

“Not too bad, just polishing my trophies.” She laughed. 

“And yet, I hear you don’t want to fly with the rest of the team?” He said suspiciously. Kit reigned in a groan. 

“Aren’t you too important to be worried about the travel logistics of your subordinates?” 

“Not when that subordinate is my driver, I’m not.” He replied in that somewhat fatherly tone of disappointment. “Is there a particular reason that you don’t wanna fly with everyone else?” 

“No, just, um, feel like a drive, is all. Plus, it’s more covidsafe and that” Kit waved her hand around in front of her despite Christian not actually being in the room with her. 

“It wouldn’t have something to do with Max, would it?” 

Kit bit her cheek as she thought of a reply, but figured there was no use lying. “Potentially.”

“I thought you two were getting along these days.” Christian sighed. 

“Yeah, well, I think that might be in the past now. He doesn’t like to lose, I don’t know if you’ve noticed?” Kit forced out a chuckle. 

“Mm, not one of his strong suits, I’ll admit.” Christian paused for a moment in consideration. “Okay, you know what? Fine, you can drive to Hungary, but just this once, and only because it’s a short drive.” 

“Yes boss.” Kit smiled to herself, reusing Olive’s line. 

“You’re lucky you’ve just won two races, cheeky bugger.” Christian grumbled. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

“See ya.” Kit replied before ending the call. She began pottering around her hotel room to repack her clothes that had been haphazardly strewn across the floor over the past week and a half. She was about to turn on the TV to kill some time when her phone began to buzz once more, Olive’s contact illuminating the screen. 

“You got my car?” Kit grinned. 

“Hello to you too.” Olive muttered in faux annoyance. “But yes, you’ve got a very snazzy Honda to drive yourself over to Hungary in.”

“No Lambo?” Kit joked. 

“You’re welcome .” Olive said sarcastically. 

“Thank you Olive, couldn’t ask for a better PA.” 

“Yeah, that’s fucking right.” Olive laughed pridefully. “Anyway, when you check out just ask for the car and they should bring it out the front for you.”

“Sick, thanks legend. I guess I’ll see you on Thursday?” Kit asked, already picking up her bags to go downstairs. She was eager to get on the move. 

“You better see me before Thursday, we’re friends now.” Olive scolded. 

“God, so high maintenance.” Kit sighed. 

“See you soon.” Olive concluded. 

“Bye.” 

In the five hours it took between checking out of the hotel in Austria and checking in to the one in Hungary, for only thirty seconds did Kit let herself think about Max. As she closed the hotel door behind her in Austria, she let herself linger there for a moment and remember how his hand had felt as it rested on her hip. How it had felt so natural there. And then she snapped herself out of that memory and didn’t dwell on him again. She needed to get herself to stop reeling from changing her mind on him every two seconds. 

“Happy Thursday.” Olive greeted Kit in the RedBull motorhome with a can of diet coke outstretched as a peace offering. Kit had been lying low since Monday, just wanting to get through the days and relax without Max sending her into a spiral of either rage or regret.

“Thanks. Are we busy today?” Kit asked apprehensively as she took a sip of the drink.

“You're leading the championship, what do you think?” Olive practically giggled.

“Just kill me now.” Kit grumbled, but she couldn't hide the smile on her face. That's right, she was leading the championship. 

“You're up first for the press conference, so maybe after that.” Olive said, giving her a pat on the shoulder in the direction of the media room to get her moving. 

“Who am I with?”

“Lewis.” 

Kit chortled. “Mm, so randomly selected.” 

“Don't worry, at least he's nice.”

“True, very true. Anyway, what do you want me to say, chief?”

Olive rolled her eyes but opened her phone anyway. “If they ask you what to expect for the weekend, say you're hopeful for a win but nothing is certain just because you've won the first two races, blah blah. I dunno, you've kinda nailed the whole PR thing, I’m redundant.” She joked, but Kit detected a note of insecurity in her voice.

“You're not redundant.” Kit shoved her shoulder against the other girl’s lightly. “After all, I have you on hand for my most important PR issue that no one else knows about.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” 

Kit sent a glare towards the younger girl. 

“No, not like that. Other than that photo last week, you guys lie pretty low.” 

Kit sighed. “I think it might be all over anyway.”

“What?” Olive squealed. Kit wanted nothing more than to spill her guts then and there, but they were about to enter the media room where all eyes would be on her, and she wasn't willing to take that kind of risk.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Lewis, we’ll start with you. Bit of a disappointing start to the season by your standards, what are you hoping for this weekend?”

The man on her right adjusted his mask, a manoeuvre Kit had noticed many drivers using to give themselves more time to think of their answers.  

“A win would be nice.” He laughed to himself. “But these guys,” he gestured towards Kit, “I mean, they’re just so fast that we’ve really got our work cut out for us. The team’s been working super hard and we’ve made a few changes that should help us out this weekend, so yeah, just hoping to get a few more points on the board.” 

“Would you be able to tell us more about these changes?” 

Lewis chuckled. “I can’t go into specifics, but … yeah, no, sorry. They’ll hopefully make the car go faster.” 

“And is the team still hopeful that you could win the championship this year?”

“Of course, it’s only early days. Obviously we’re really gonna have to push hard to catch up with the pace of the Bulls, but it’s definitely achievable for us at this point.” 

“Kit, coming to you now. It must feel pretty incredible, to have won the first two races of the season and be leading the championship coming into Hungary. What are your hopes for the weekend?” 

She crossed one of her legs over the other. “Same as Lewis, a win is the goal. At this point I think anything less than P1 would be a bit disappointing, but obviously anything could happen and it’s a different track this weekend so we’re just aiming to utilise the car as much as possible on the different circuit.” 

“So, Lewis and Max have both asserted that it’s still anybody’s championship, do you feel the same way?” 

“Yeah, one-hundred percent.” Kit nodded. “It’s very, very early days, and it’s not a bad sign that we’ve won the first two races, but it’s not a guarantee of any more wins or of a championship, so of course it’s important that we keep pushing and don’t get too comfortable.” 

The rest of the questions were boringly technical, and Kit began to wonder why they even bothered with Thursday media days. It was the same before every single race. And if the questions weren’t mind numbingly boring, they were drama-chasing or overly personal, and that was even worse. 

In fact, the entire weekend seemed to pass in a lulling, repetitive monotony that made Kit yearn for some of the pre-covid excitement. By the end of the race on Sunday, she hadn’t said a single word to Max since the Monday prior. Not in engineering meetings, not in between practices, not when they stood next to each other getting their lunch, not when he out-qualified her and they sat together in the post-quali press conference with Lewis. He was acting as though she didn’t exist, and she was more than obliging to carry on in the same manner. 

Her favourite moment, in a masochistic sort of way, was just before qualifying when she was discussing final details of the car and their strategy with Hugh when she locked eyes with him across the garage. Jos was jabbering away in his ear in a constant Dutch stream, but Max clearly wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t avert his gaze, and she didn’t either. She tried to make it obvious that she was glaring, not admiring, and he did too. Then she noticed the two of them being filmed on the TV screen behind him, the commentators undoubtedly discussing their rivalry that seemed to change with the wind, so she moved her gaze back to the screen in front of her. Later Olive informed her that Jos was saying something to Max along the lines of ‘You only have that Hamilton fool/idiot/dumbass to worry about, and that girl better not get in front of you. You’re faster than her’. She told her to take it with a grain of salt as she didn’t actually speak Dutch, only high school level German, but Kit believed every word of that would come out of Jos Verstappen’s mouth. 

Unfortunately, it turned out Jos was right. Max did overtake Lewis, and left Kit to waste her fuel on sparring with the Merc until Hugh finally told her to pull back and be conservative, allowing Lewis to make the overtake that she couldn’t fight back on. She knew that being pissy over third place was idiotic, but she was still pissy. There was a camera in her face as soon as she was out of the car and slipping her mask on, but that didn’t stop her eyes from narrowing at Max in frustration.

“Kit, some excellent racing we just witnessed between you and Lewis, how did you feel out there?” 

Kit tried to look marginally less enraged. “Um, yeah, not bad. That fight I had with Lewis was brutal and by the end we just couldn’t push anymore so that kind of lost second place for me, but as you said he was on top form, and yeah, disappointing but the best I could do.” 

“With Max in first, the team must be pretty elated at today’s result?” 

Kit couldn’t even force herself to think of something diplomatic. “Um, yeah, I s’pose.” 

The commentator was silent for a few moments, thinking she’d continue. “Uh, right, well thanks for speaking with us, great race today.” Kit nodded in thanks before walking off to get weighed, internally berating herself. She was acting like a child. 

Walking from the podium to the post-race press conference, Kit felt a body come up right behind her and turned to face them, expecting to see Olive but being met with Max’s flat expression, half obscured by a mask. 

“What?” 

“Who’s acting like a child now, hmm?” He said, and Kit saw his eyes scrunch up at the corners. He was fucking smiling . And to make matters worse he had his fireproofs tied around his waist, something that never failed to get her going. It was residual Abu Dhabi muscle memory. 

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna talk to you.” 

“Sounds like someone’s being a sore loser.” He chuckled. 

“Takes one to know one, I guess.” Kit snapped in return. 

“It’s okay, everyone knows those first two races were just a fluke, no one actually expected you to be able to win the championship.” Max said, still thinking he was joking, but Kit couldn’t even half play along. That one hit too close to home. 

“Fuck off Max, seriously. I don’t wanna fucking talk to you.” She shouldered past him and sped in front of him towards the media centre. The cameras everywhere really should’ve deterred her from acting like, well, acting like Max, but she couldn’t be bothered to try and hide her emotions. 

That night her and Olive were walking back to the car that drove in together when the younger girl retrieved her phone, unlocked it and placed it into Kit’s hand. 

“Does any of that bother you?” She asked. It was a folder in her instagram favourites (on a private account, thank god) of a few posts of her glaring at Max, most accompanied by screenshotted tweets talking about them hating each other. Half the comments were talking about Kit being an arrogant bitch, but the other half were defending her, so she figured it was fine. 

“Does it bother you?” Kit replied, handing back the phone. 

“No, well it does cos they’re being mean, but from a PR standpoint, no.” Olive babbled. 

“Then it’s fine, right? I mean, people are always gonna defend their favourite driver, that’s nothing new.” Kit said nonchalantly. It didn’t feel great to be called arrogant, but she would get over it. Insults didn’t seem to affect her as much when they weren’t coming from Max. 

“I guess.” Olive said warily. “Let me know if it’s bothering you.” 

“What are you gonna do about it though?” Kit laughed. 

“I dunno, work some PR magic.” Olive joked in return. 

“I think I’ll be okay.” Kit said as she drove out of the car park. 

“Max wasn’t too bad today.” Olive mused. 

“Except when he said that no one genuinely believes I can win the championship.” Kit muttered. 

“He said that?” 

“Only to me.” Kit smiled without any humour. “He’s not stupid enough to say shit like that in interviews anymore.” 

“Well, you’ve gotta get him back.” Olive said with finality. 

“Huh?” Kit laughed. 

“He got under your skin, right? You just need to get back under his. He’s tryna play mind games with you.” 

Kit thought of all the things she knew about him that could be used as leverage. “That feels too cruel.”

“You think Max Verstappen cares about whether or not he’s being cruel?” 

Kit paused. “No, I guess not.” 

“Exactly.” Olive said happily. “And anyway, I think your rivalry is good for the sport.”

“Is that so?” Kit laughed. 

“Yep. This is supposed to be entertaining, right? Even if Christian and Helmut and them don’t like you and Max fighting, the fans do. You put on a good show.” 

Kit smiled in amusement at the thought of her and Max being used as marketing ploys, and then her stomach dropped again. “Oh, fuck me.” 

“What?” Olive said in a panicky voice. 

“I need to move out of Max’s place.” 

“Ooo.” Olive said sympathetically. 

“Yeah.” Kit groaned. It was going to be a long two weeks before Silverstone. 

Chapter Text

“Morning.” 

“Morning.” 

Kit and Max stared coldly at each other from either side of Max’s apartment doorway. He looked upsettingly attractive, and Kit scrunched up her face in annoyance at the fact that that was her first thought upon seeing him.

“Are you gonna come in?” Max asked flatly. Kit didn’t reply and just walked past him inside. Most of her suitcases were still in her room from when she’d move in in the first place, and she didn’t spare Max another glance as she walked into her old room to begin packing things up. His footsteps made her stomach tighten as he followed her in and leant against the doorway. 

“How long are you gonna keep up the silent treatment?” 

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment, I just have nothing to say to you.” Kit huffed as she unzipped a suitcase and began to fold her clothes into it. 

“Really, nothing at all?” Max asked and Kit could hear the amusement in his voice. 

“Yes, really. You seem to be enjoying yourself regardless.” 

“It’s just funny seeing you try and pretend to hate me.” 

Kit’s head whipped up towards him. “I’m not pretending, okay? I’m not that good of an actress.” 

“You actually expect me to believe that you went from making out with me in your driver’s room to wanting nothing to do with me in the span of twenty-four hours?” 

“I had a lot of time to think in those twenty-four hours. And, so what? Do you miss me or something?” Kit couldn’t stop herself from grinning. 

“No.” He said instantly. “It’s just getting a bit annoying to work with you when you won’t speak to me, that’s all.” 

“Fine, I’ll start speaking to you again. But I won’t put up with any of your weird hot and cold emotions whenever you lose to me in a race, okay? Treat me the way you treated Pierre. Just coworkers.” Kit flailed her hands around to try and send her point home. 

“I think it might be a bit late for that.” Max was leaning against the doorframe on his shoulder, arms crossed over his chest. Kit had a moment where she felt as though she was still in their short-lived domestic bubble, but blinked to snap herself out of it. 

“We can just pretend none of it ever happened.”

“Do you at least want some help?” Max offered. 

Kit pursed her lips, but figured the soon she was packed up, the sooner she could leave. “Sure.” Max came to stand beside her and started to fold her bottoms into the suitcase. 

“Where are you gonna live now?” He asked after a very silent ten minutes had passed. They were onto her books now. 

“Olive found me an apartment near my old one. It’s still fucking mold infested.” Kit muttered. 

“You’re living in another moldy apartment?” Max asked in confusion. 

“No you dumbass, my old apartment is still moldy so I can’t move back there. Keep up.” Kit laughed. 

“Oh, right.” Max nodded. “Who’s Olive?” 

“My PR girl, remember? I’m kinda using her like an assistant, which I feel a bit guilty about, but she seems to like it. If she’s still interested at the end of the year, I might hire her directly so that I can give her a raise.” 

“That’s nice of you.” Max continued. 

“Meh, not really. I don’t have anything else to do with my money.” Kit replied. 

“You could buy a boat.” Max suggested. 

“What the fuck am I gonna do with a boat?” Kit laughed. 

“I dunno. Have a boat?” Max laughed in return. Kit zipped up the final bag she was filling and looked around the room to check that she hadn’t left anything behind. “You don’t have to move out, you know. We could just be, like, coworkers that live together.” Max offered. 

Kit sighed and looked out the window, not brave enough to look at him. “I think we both know that that would never work.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Max tapped on his leg and Kit tried not to look. “You need a ride?” 

“Nah, my car’s still downstairs.” Kit replied. 

“That’s what you could spend your money on. Replacing your shitbox car.” Max exclaimed. 

“Fuck off. I like my car.” Kit grinned. Max helped her carry all her things down to the car park in his building and load up the tiny cabrio with her stuff. 

“See you at Silverstone.” Kit said once everything was secured. 

“See you then.” Max replied. He appeared to almost glitch before stuffing his hands in his pockets, and Kit secretly hoped that it was because he was about to bring her in for a hug. Because that’s not a terrible way to think about one’s teammate at all. 

The new apartment Olive had found her was definitely still on the cheaper side of what Monaco had to offer, but Kit loved it. It had huge south facing French doors that opened up onto a small but ornate balcony, and practically the entire south wall was made of windows so that the apartment was full of sunlight. It was small enough to feel full after Kit had successfully gone back and forth to her old apartment enough times to salvage what she had left there. She signed an autograph for one of the workmen that was covered head to toe in hazmat gear, and was very grateful to be leaving that shit hole behind. 

Having the week off from racing, she allowed herself to stay up a bit later than usual and watch a shitty romcom. As much as she tried to take the horrible communication and irrational fighting between the two romantic leads as a sign that her and Max were supposed to end things, she couldn’t help but miss him. Being alone in the tiny, unfamiliar living room only reminded her of sitting on the couch with him. Everything there seemed to warm in comparison. She tried to relive the day she’d won for the second time in Austria, how much of a shit head he had been, but even that wasn’t working. The only anger she managed to elicit was towards herself when, as the two main characters finally kissed and the movie drew to a close, she felt herself begin to cry. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” She muttered to herself as she switched the TV off and walked towards her bedroom, grabbing a notepad and pen as she walked.

WHY MAX AND I SHOULDN’T BE TOGETHER

She scribbled at the top of the page. It was reminiscent of the list she’d made the year before in the early stages of their tenure as teammates, and put that as reason number one. 

I have made a list about how much I hate him

She paused for a moment to think. 

It’s easier for me to hate him than to love him

The word sent a shiver down her spine, so she crossed out love and wrote be with above it. 

We’re teammates

He doesn’t think I can win the championship

He’s a sore loser

He listens to what his dad has to say

He listens to what Helmut Marko has to say

He will always be the favourite

He doesn’t think he should change for me

Kit felt her earlier affection for Max seep away by the second, and knew she had achieved her goal. She fell asleep peacefully that night with the piece of paper tucked under her pillow, knowing that her second reason was by far the most important, and the most true. It was so, so, so much easier for everybody involved if she could just hate Max Verstappen. 

Chapter Text

Spain was sweltering. Kit could practically see the track melting in the sun. Unlike her body, the entirety of which was coated in sweat, she was in a dry patch in terms of points. Although she wanted to ignore Max’s frequent comments about Austria being a fluke, she was beginning to think he might be right. If she'd thought fifth place in the first Silverstone race was bad, her DNF last week was even worse. And, just for a cherry on top, Max had only gone and won the race, and every bloody journalist couldn't stop mentioning how enraged she looked about the whole thing.

Sitting in her car before quali, Kit felt as though the heat was engulfing her body. She'd been hot at races before, but nothing like this. She almost felt herself start to get dizzy, but she gritted her teeth and willed her eyesight to return to normal. By the time She was getting the signal to drive out, she felt the wooziness go away and just narrowed her eyes to focus in on the track. Her past few races had been busts because she hadn't been able to qualifying on the front row, and she was determined not to let this week go the same way.

The familiar zone of racing was always easy to slip into, but today felt different. Fuzzy. It was as if the heat was encroaching upon the edges of her brain and making it hard to focus. She shook her head lightly, not having much freedom of movement, and got ready for her flying lap.

“Good stuff Kit.” Hugh said over the radio. Kit had barely noticed that she'd made it back to the start line, just running on muscle memory. For a few moments on her slow lap it felt as though the dizziness was easing, only to be replaced with a wave of nausea so strong that she nearly spun herself off the track. Her finger hovered over the radio button but she stopped herself. Unless she vomited in her helmet or passed out, there was no reason to retire yet. 

A few more subpar flying laps later and she was back in the garage to wait for Q2. She was dreading the end of Q3 because her legs felt so weak that she didn't think she could get out of the car. The nausea ebbed and flowed and in the brief windows of feeling okay, she could actually see herself putting in a pole worthy lap. It was everything in between those windows that was the problem. She was sweating so much now that she may as well have been in a swimming pool.

“P4 right now Kit, P4.” Hugh crackled over the radio after her first Q2 flying lap.

“Where's Max?” She asked, blinking away another wave.

“P2.” He replied curtly. Kit grit her teeth in annoyance. The rest of quali passed by in a nauseous blur. Kit actually found herself counting down the laps at one point to keep track of how much time she had left until she could get out of the car. Given her bleary state, she wasn't able to improve upon P4, but had never been so happy to qualify off the podium. She was practically choking down bile at this point, and her body felt like it was engulfed in an oven. 

“Good job today Kit, lots we can do from there.” Hugh said, and Kit could hear the bullshit even through her weariness. She considered radioing for someone to help her out of the car, but then thought of the fact that everyone in every team would be able to hear her say that if they chose too, and wasn’t too fond of appearing so helpless. So she lifted her visor and tried to signal one of the mechanics.

One caught her eye. “What's up?” 

Kit tried to swallow her pride, and the contents of her stomach with it. “Help a girl out, would ya?” She lifted her arms out, hoping he would get the memo. Although looking confused, he understood what she meant and helped heave her out of the cockpit, leaving her to turn and sit on the halo. 

“You alright?” He left a hand resting on her back and Kit assumed it was because she looked so unsteady.

Kit took her helmet off and sent him a weak smile. “Yeah, thanks. Just a bit hot.” 

She saw herself on one of the TV on the wall and twisted her body around to smile at the camera filming her. The movement nearly made her heave, and she jumped down from the car to make her way to the motorhome. 

“Kit?” Hugh called after her in confusion, and she just waved him off. She would text him after vomiting up her guts. 

The motorhome seemed several kilometers away, but eventually she was up in her bathroom, spewing into the toilet. She didn't know what on earth could be wrong with her, but could rule out food poisoning because she felt fine after vomiting just once. Her clammy sweat felt nice and cool on her hot body, and her second self diagnosis was that maybe it had something to do with the heat. But she'd never had these kind of problems before, she couldn't understand why she was feeling so awful now. 

A knock sounded at her door, and she swiped a bit of toilet paper to wipe her mouth before flushing it down the toilet along with her puke. Her legs felt slightly stronger now that she'd cooled down a bit, and she managed to make it all the way to the door to open it. She didn't really know who she was expecting, maybe Olive, maybe Hugh, maybe even Christian. Definitely not Max though.

“What are you doing here?” Kit asked weakly before letting him in.

“I wanted to see if you were okay.” He said monotonically like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m fine.” She muttered.

“A mechanic had to pull you out of the car.” 

“He did not pull me.” Kit countered, and Max sent her a questioning look. “He helped me. Don't you have somewhere to be anyway?”

“I got away quickly.” Max said, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his fingers on the opposing elbow. Kit sat down on her couch, feeling herself getting out of breath just from standing up. 

“So what now?” She snapped at him.

“What do you mean?” Max asked.

“What exactly do you plan on doing here now?” 

Max scoffed. “Jesus christ woman, you really think I can live with you for months and then turn around and pretend I don't care about you at all?”

Kit was stunned into silence for a moment, but found it easier to reply with snarkiness than her real emotions. “You seem to be pretty good at it.” 

Max squeezed his eyes shut for a second and sighed. “Just don't kill yourself, okay?” He muttered before walking back out. Kit’s first instinct was to call him back and curl into his arms, but she batted it away. Not anymore was that something she could do, or should do. She sped through a shower and a change of clothes, and felt fresh and light now that she wasn't completely covered in sweat.

“Kit, how are you going? We saw a bit of a worrying sight there at the end of the race when an engineer had to help you out of your car.” Natalie Pinkham asked in the media pen. The chatter of journalists and drivers, even with the covid skeleton crew, was like a deafening swarm in her ears. 

“Nah, I’m all good. Just, uh, yeah, no. Just a momentary thing, nothing to be concerned about.” Kit smiled. 

“Alright, so qualified P4, is a win still on the cards for this weekend?” Nat continued, and Kit could only chuckle to herself. She'd been asked that question for the past few weeks, and every race she was getting noticeably less and less optimistic.

“Um, not sure. Obviously that's what we're aiming for, but with both Mercs and Max ahead of me I’ve definitely got my work cut out for me, but yeah. Hoping for at least a podium.” 

“Great, well, good luck for this weekend.” Kit went to walk away and got a sudden swell of dizziness. Not walking to show it, she grabbed on to the closest thing to her: Charles’ arm.

“Hey.” He said, mid-interview, looking surprised and concerned. 

“Hey man, good job today.” Kit smiled, hoping that their well known friendship would be enough to mask her desperate grab at him.

“Thanks, you too. You feeling okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah, all good.” Kit emphasised. She shook her head lightly to show her point, and immediately regretted it as a headache set in almost instantly. Olive guided her through the pen to each interview, and Kit didn't miss the way her hand kept a tight grip on her elbow after her interaction with Charles. 

“You're sure you're okay?” Olive asked sceptically once they were back in the privacy of the motorhome.

“Yes, I’m sure, mum.” Kit rolled her eyes. She was actually feeling a lot better, and put it down to just being a weird reaction to the heat.

Which was why, after feeling brilliant all morning, the mystery ailment’s late onset mid race was all the more shocking and debilitating.

Kit had managed to overtake Bottas basically off the line, and spent the majority of the race fighting with Max for second place. Hugh knew not to bother trying to get her to stop, and clearly GP knew that as well, because it was almost radio silence as they exchanged places like it was a dance. Both of them were pushing so hard that Lewis couldn't stretch the gap ahead too much, but Kit knew that he was safe in first. Both of them had consumed too much time and energy in this battle to have anything left to dedicate to P1.

“Gap to Bottas 1.5, keep pushing. Only five laps left.” Hugh said encouragingly.

“Copy.” Kit replied. Bottas was the least of her concerns when Max was less than a hair’s width in front of her. His dirty air was seriously getting to her tyres, but his had suffered as well from being in the same position for almost equal lengths of time, so she wasn't too worried about that. Five laps, she was faster than him, she could stick an overtake in five laps.

Just as in qualifying, in the middle of one of the high g-force corners, Kit felt a surge of nausea and dizziness so strong that she nearly flung herself off the track. She steadied her gaze and zeroed in on the car ahead.

“Is the car okay?” Hugh asked. Fuck. They’d noticed her flinch. She pressed down the radio button to reply, but had to gulp down a retch before speaking.

“Yep, all fine. That was me, sorry.” She justes about choked out. She'd never felt so horrendous in her life, and Max was inching further and further ahead with every corner that passed. She just repeated to herself that it would all be over soon, and she just needed to push for four more laps and then she was done. Her intrusive thoughts couldn't stop creeping in, making her think about what would happen if she just vomited then and there, but she pushed them down alongside her bile and continued on. Another lap. Then another. Time was slipping away and her tyres were beginning to go.

Finally, like a miracle from the universe, Max overshot his line at the beginning of the last lap and Kit was able to shoot down the inside, driving adjacent to him until the next corner where he was forced to cede the inside line to her and back down. She was buzzing so much with the joy of sticking the overtake that it was like her body needed to remind itself of its predicament by making her nearly upchuck onto herself in the car. She actually felt her entire body lurch forward with the heave, and knew she must look like a psycho freak. 

Eventually she pulled up to the P2 sign and secured her car on muscle memory alone. She bypassed the team and the interviewers and Lewis and Max and just made a beeline for somewhere out of sight. The building under the podium was her best bet, and in a dizzy, nauseous haze, she tore off her gloves, helmet and balaclava and spewed straight onto the concrete floor. She was barely obscured by a wall, and it would be blatantly obvious to anyone with a brain that she was throwing up.

This time seemed to be worse than the day before. Every heave seemed to take a chunk out of her body, leaving her dizziness at an all time high and her limbs shaking from fatigue. Finally, a hand landed on her back, and she leaned into the comforting figure, still hunched over. It was another minute or two after she stopped retching before she could wipe her mouth on her sleeve and stand up, although that sent her into another vertigo spiral. What she could see clearly though was Max’s concerned eyes staring straight at her. She realised the heavy weights on her biceps were his hands holding her steady, and she'd never been more grateful for the man in her life.

“You need to go.” Kit mumbled, nodding towards the podium interviewer.

“I already did mine.” Max said quietly, and Kit cringed at the fact that she had vomited all through Lewis’ and Max’s interviews. And on the floor .

“Fuck, I’m-that's so fucking disgusting.” Kit berated herself, eyeing the patch of chunks that was already being cleaned up.

“It's fine, don't worry about it.” Max put his arm around her shoulders and guided her further into the building. She assumed he was leading them towards the cool down room, but instead he opened a random door to an empty meeting room and sat her down in a chair, handing her a bottle of water. 

“What, where, huh?” Kit said weakly. Everything bar Max was just a haze, and she couldn't think clearly. Her mind had turned to mush. 

“The medic’s going to come here, I didn't think that you should walk all the way back to the motorhome.” Max explained crouching down in front of her and resting his hands on her knees.

“The podium?” She asked, taking a small sip of water.

“They called it off. Everyone thinks you're dying or something.” Max tried to laugh, but Kit could see genuine concern in his eyes. She gingerly lay her hand on his and intertwined their fingers, needing the comfort more than she needed to prove her point. 

“I’m not, so don't worry.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Won’t it be, I dunno, kind of sus, if you're in here with me?”

Max gave her a quirky little smile before standing up to pull a chair over beside her and sit down. “I’m just being a good person. For once.” Kit was about to argue with him when the track doctor walked in, followed closely behind by Christian. Max stood up and gave a nod to Christian before walking out, shooting Kit a smile as he left the room. Kit was once again left feeling like she was out of the loop, but ignored it as the doctor produced his stethoscope and began checking things all over her body.

As the doctor quietly went about his ministrations, looking for something unknown to Kit, Christian continued to give her a questioning, somewhat displeased look.

“I promise I wasn’t like this before the race.” Kit said quietly.

“So yesterday when you had to be helped out of the car? That was different?” Christian said harshly, and Kit just looked off to the side in shame. “Kit, it's fine to get sick, you're only human, but you need to tell someone.”

“I thought it was just a momentary thing, I don't know. I felt better when I got into bed yesterday.” 

“Still, you could've killed yourself out there.” Christian huffed. 

“It seems you're just severely dehydrated, Kit.” The doctor said after a few more minutes as he unstrapped the blood pressure monitor from her arm. Kit furrowed her eyebrows at his diagnosis.

“I don't see how that's possible, I’ve been drinking as much water as my trainer said to.”

Christian's gaze darkened. “Michael, right?” 

Kit nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Let me go find him.” Christian said, but faltered at the door. “By the way, you’re excused from press, no fine.”

Kit grinned. “I guess this day wasn't all bad then.” 

Christian sent her a disapproving look and hurried off, presumably to fire Michael, or at least give him a good talking to.

“I’ll need to give you a drip, would you prefer it in the medical building or your own room?” The doctor asked.

“My room, if that's not too much trouble.” 

“Of course not.” The doctor reassured her. “Try standing up, if you can't walk I can get a wheelchair for you.”

Kit grunted in disapproval. “I’m not getting in a fucking wheelchair.” 

“I’ll still walk with you back to the motorhome.” The doctor said with an amused look on his face. Thankfully the paddock was empty of the usual hoards due to the personnel restrictions, but Kit still noticed the heads turning as she walked down towards the RedBull motorhome. She sent a few smiles and waves to show that she was okay, but the doctor’s unwavering presence at her side counteracted her healthy facade.

“Is there someone who can wait in here with you while I go and collect what I need?” The doctor asked, watching cautiously as Kit stripped the top outer layer of her race suit off and slumped onto the small couch. Her first thought was Max, but for more reasons than she could count she couldn't say his name. 

“Olive, my PR girl, she should be around somewhere.” Kit asked. She was embarrassingly drained from the short walk over, and was mystified at herself for having survived the race at all.

“Okay, I’ll go find her then.” The doctor replied before leaving her alone in her room. About five minutes later her phone pinged, and it was a text from Olive.

olive 🫒🍸 : eavesdropping on christian yellinv at ur trainer, will be there soon, text if ur duing

Kit grinned at the typos and sent back a simple 🙏 in thanks. She reached over to grab a cushion so that she could lie down, and the movement stirred up a bout of nausea, which she managed to hold down. Five years or five minutes could’ve passed before Olive entered her room, everything feeling a bit fuzzier now that she wasn't so focused on appearing okay.

“Jesus Kit, give us all a fright, why don't you?” Olive puffed as she seated herself on the massage table opposite the couch. Kit chuckled softly, which aggravated her headache, which then aggravated her dizziness, and squeezed her eyes shut in regret.

“What intel did you get?” She tried to grin.

“Apparently Michael, the baboon, didn't give you the right volume of water to be drinking every day because he’s only used to doing calculations for men, and he decreased yours more than he should've from the male value. How he's qualified to do that job, I have no idea.” Olive muttered, and Kit scoffed.

“I’ll ask Christian for a female trainer next time, jesus.” 

“Couldn’t you tell yourself that you were dehydrated? Weren’t you thirsty?” Olive asked innocently.

“I already felt like I was chugging down more than was pleasant to make up for how much I was sweating, so no.” 

The doctor pushed open the door again, extensive medical equipment in tow, and Kit didn’t even want to picture the photos that could've been taken.

“Ol, could you write something up for me about, well, this?” Kit asked as the doctor prepped the drip to go into her arm. 

“Of course, you want me to stay here?”

“Yes please.” Kit sent her a grin, and Olive looked chuffed at being asked to stick around. The girl unlocked her phone and began typing rapidly.

“Do you have a laptop?” Kit asked curiously.

“Yeah but that just makes more work for myself.” Olive brushed her off. Kit was too distracted by the needle in her arm to ask her follow up questions, so she just settled into the comfortable silence. She desperately wanted the doctor to leave so that she could ask Olive to somehow find Max for her, but he would have to stay for at least an hour while the IV bag emptied itself into her bloodstream.

She didn't know where this sudden aching need for him had come from, and honestly, she probably wouldn't feel it at all had he not been the first one at her side. It was just something about him being there for her with no strings, without her having to ask him, without worrying about anybody seeing, it was nice. She felt protected, which wasn't something she thought she needed out of a guy, but clearly she was wrong. 

“Look over here.” Olive said. She was pointing her phone camera at Kit, cleary for a post of some description.

“Should I smile or look really wounded?” Kit asked, and the doctor chuckled.

“Smile, try and look like it’s no biggie.” Olive directed. Kit laughed and looked unsure of herself, holding a thumbs up and smiling at the camera. “Okay, never try and pose again. Don't worry, I got a good one before you did, that.” Olive said judgmentally, waving at Kit’s hand.

“Go on, give us a look.” Kit asked. Olive turned the phone around to show her a picture of herself mid laugh. Her hair was a bit disgusting and she looked a little tired, but on the most part she didn't look as awful as she felt. “Nice, you're good at this.” 

“I try.” Olive grinned as she got back to work.

The silence left Kit’s mind to drift back to Max, he was like an ear worm but for her brain. Maybe it was the fact that Max didn't think she needed her, but that he wanted to be there for her anyway…the psycho analysis could go on forever. The bottom line was, she wanted Max but she definitely couldn't have him. It was fair to either of them when she knew she would just push him away again the second he got in a pissy mood with her.

“Alright, the drip’s empty now so I’ll just take that from you.” The doctor muttered to himself as he removed the needle from her arm. Kit looked over at Olive, who appeared to have finished her statement and was now playing subway surfers, and realised that she'd been zoned out for a full hour just thinking about Max. Fuck. 

“I suggest you go back to your hotel as soon as you can and get some rest.” The doctor suggested. Kit nodded, but knew she was probably going to go to the debrief anyway. She didn't feel as weak and lightheaded as before and didn't want the team to be too worried about her. 

“How’s this?” Olive asked once the doctor was gone, passing her phone over to Kit to show the draft on an instagram post. It was from her account, and it was an official RedBull edited photo to show that she'd come second, followed by the photo that Olive had just taken. 

“Do you need the first slide? I feel like that only emphasises how sickly I look.” Kit asked.

“You don't look sickly.” Olive said defensively. “And Cath told me to put it in. But it's your personal account so if you say I can take it out, then I can.” 

“Let me read the caption first, then you can take it out.” Kit instructed, and Olive seemed pleased at them both being in agreement. The caption read,

just being drippy as per usual 🤪💪🤘 jk in all seriousness i am okay, i was just experiencing a bit of dehydration yesterday and today, but the doc’s fixed me up now and i’m good as new. plus i heard somewhere that champagne is the best kind of medicine 😉

“I love it Olive.” Kit laughed. “Bit freaky though, you pretending to be me.”

“It's one of my most admirable skills.” Olive replied. “Now, is there anything I can do for you?” 

Kit mused for a moment, wondering if she should ask her to find Max, but decided against it. She didn't need to give him the wrong impression and imply that she wanted him back. Well, she did, but she was in a vulnerable state and shouldn’t be trusted with making those kinds of decisions. She told herself that, anyway. “I’m all good, thanks. What’s the time, by the way?”

“Quarter to seven, the engineering meeting will be starting soon, if you wanna go?” Olive said, checking the time on her phone.

“Yeah, I do. I’m gonna shower so you can bugger off if you want.” Kit laughed, but Olive looked wary. “I’m not gonna collapse, okay? I feel good, rehydrated, one might say.”

Olive didn't laugh. “If you drown in the shower, don't blame me.”

“I think I’ll be okay.” Kit smiled, collecting a change of clothes to take into the bathroom with her. Olive left reluctantly, and Kit turned on the warm water to wash her cold sweat away. The bathroom still smelt of bile slightly, but Kit was pleased that it didn't make her want to vomit again. After drying off, she felt practically good as new, and was shocked at how effective the drip had been, cursing herself inwardly. Christian was right, if she'd just told someone last night, or even before she got into the car at quali, she would have avoided this whole mess. Oh well, hindsight is 20/20 and all that shit.

She opened the door to her driver's room, not expecting Max and Christian to be stood in stern conversation right outside. 

“Kit, the girl of the hour, how are you feeling?” Christian asked in a cartoonishly upbeat manner.

“Yeah, good, the IV worked wonders.” She smiled, trying not to let on her curiosity at why Max was there too. 

“Heading home?” Christian asked.

“Um, no, I was going down to the meeting.” Kit said warily.

“Meeting’s off for today, we have, um, other things to discuss.” Christian said, his positive facade cracking slightly.

“Things to do with me?” Kit asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I told you it was stupid.” Max said angrily to Christian, and Kit furrowed her eyebrows.

“You two were talking about me?”

“No, well, he asked. Originally neither of you were going to be involved.” Christian sighed.

“Well we are now, so please enlighten me.” Kit asked, trying to tone down the aggression in her voice. This was her boss after all. Christian pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed again, looking around the hallway like someone was going to come and save him from this mess.

“He was talking about your physical strength, whether or not you're cut out for racing.” Max said finally. Kit opened her mouth in protest but Christian cut her off. 

“No, no, that is not what I said. Fuck me.” He huffed. “Let's not talk about this here, okay?” He walked down the stairs to the main meeting room. As the three of them walked through the motorhome together, the whole time Kit feeling as though she was being marched to the principal's office, Michael, her trainer, was walking in the other direction to leave, his bag in hand.

“Hey, Kit, look, I don’t know what anyone's told you but-”

“Mate, I think you've done enough, okay?” Max said sternly. Michael looked spooked and just walked away without making his case, and Kit actually found herself feeling sorry for the guy.

“Why did you do that?” She hissed at Max.

“He’s an idiot, he deserved it.” He muttered back. Christian continued walking but bypassed the meeting room, which was unusually absent of the normal post-race personnel, and walked straight to his office. Sitting inside was only one other person, Helmut Marko, and Kit felt her stomach drop. 

“Why are they here?” He asked Christian in his heavy German accent.

“They involved themselves.” Christian sighed. He seemed to be aging by the minute.

“Are you seriously going to drop me just because of today?” Kit asked, not able to contain herself anymore.

“No, no, nobody's saying that.” Christian answered, sitting behind his desk.

“We are concerned about your physical ability to do this job, that's all.” Helmut shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“I’ve never had any issues before, this was a one time thing. Surely you can understand that?” Kit asked. She was trying her hardest not to sound like she was begging.

“Kit, we do understand that, but you have to understand that this is unprecedented. Have you ever seen a male driver get hauled out of their car unless they were unconscious, or vomit their guts out as soon as they cross the finish line?” Christian asked. Kit felt tears of rage well in her eyes and will them not to fall.

“This wasn't my fault though. Even the doctor said it was just dehydration.”

“I have never seen a male driver suffer so much from 'dehydration’.” Helmut interjected, his wrinkled fingers curling into air quotes. Kit fumed in silence for a moment, trying to think of what to say.

“If you drop her over this, I’m out.” Max said in his usual monotone, nonchalant way. Kit’s jaw nearly fell slack. By the looks on Christian and Helmut’s face, they were just as shocked as she was.

“Now, I think everyone needs to take a step back, no one’s getting fired-”

“Bist du dumm, Junge?” Helmut practically spat at Max in German. Kit and Christian looked at each other wide eyed. 

“Nein, ich bin einfach kein sexistisches Schwein.” Max fired back.

“Okay, okay, let's get back to English, please.” Christian said. Helmut’s fiery gaze could’ve burnt holes through clothing, and Kit was happy it was Max that had pissed him off for once. “We just want to ensure that this kind of thing won't happen again. We're hiring you a female trainer, a good one, and we're going to suggest that your training gets a bit more rigorous.”

Kit withheld a scoff, but Max didn’t.

“Max, there's not even any reason for you to be here, so I don't see why your input is needed.” Christian said sternly.

“It's bullshit. If it was me in her position, there would be no question of it being a one off. You would be the one telling me so.” Max was nearly yelling, and Kit fought the urge to reach out a hand to calm him down.

“Max, you've never stumbled out of your car to throw up.” Christian said calmly.

“I’ve also never won two consecutive races, and in case you've forgotten already, I finished behind her today.”

“Both of you should go home and get some rest. No one’s getting fired, this whole thing’s been blown out of proportion.” Christian said definitely, and Kit just nodded before turning around to leave. Before the door could close fully behind Max, Kit heard Helmut speak again.

“You need to get a handle on that girl, Christian.” 

Max’s eyes darkened and Kit was scared that he was going to go back in there, so now that they were out of sight, she reached out a hand to place around his wrist lightly and shook her head. 

“Such bullshit.” Max muttered quietly as they walked back upstairs to their driver rooms, his Dutch accent thick with anger. Kit dropped his wrist quickly, not wanting to be spotted, but she couldn't help smiling to herself.

“Would you really leave if they sacked me?” She asked.

“If it was over that, then yes.” He said seriously.

“Why did you think they were going to drop me anyway? Christian didn't say anything nearly that dramatic.” Kit said.

“Before you got there, Christian was talking on the phone, I guess to Helmut, and I heard him say ‘finding a replacement’.” 

Kit paused outside their doors and couldn't help but laugh. “He was talking about my trainer, you idiot.”

Max looked sheepish. “Oh yeah, that would make more sense.”

Kit smiled to herself. “Helmut probably did wanna use this as an excuse to get rid of me. What did he say to you anyway?”

“I don't really remember.” Max shook his head. “I think I called him a sexist pig though.” 

Kit let out a laugh in surprise. “Really?”

Max looked back at her with a grin on his face. “Yeah.”

“I didn't know you were such a feminist.” Kit poked him on the arm.

“Neither did I.” Max said, and he wasn't joking like Kit. They remained that way, just staring at each other, for what could've been a lifetime before Kit heard footsteps coming up the stairs and cleared her throat.

“I should get back, rest my fragile woman body, you know.” She chuckled weakly.

“Yeah, um, me too.” Kit sent him an amused expression. “Not like that, you know what I mean.” He said in embarrassment, and Kit couldn't help but laugh. “See you later.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Kit replied. Once she was back in her room, she couldn't help but regret her words in Austria. She missed him, even though he was just next door. Although, those feelings subsided slightly when she realised the only reason he wasn't pissy about her beating him was because she was hurt. Still, she couldn't stop herself from feeling like a giddy school girl when she replayed him defending her. God, she was so typical.

Chapter Text

“Kit, how are you feeling before the race today after Spain?” One of the sky reporters asked as she attempted to walk from the garage to the track. While the track was far, far less busy than in previous years, today Kit felt the same levels of claustrophobia. Since Spain two weeks ago, everyone seemed to think she was on the verge of shattering, even with her reassurances that it was a one off thing and wouldn't happen again. 

“Feeling good, Martin.” She said curtly.

“Starting from second behind your teammate, hopeful for a win?” 

“This week, yes, I am.” She half laughed.

“Well, good luck to you.” Martin said as she began to put her radio in-ears in, a signal that she was done talking. She was absolutely desperate for a win this week after the questions she'd been getting asked all weekend. Can women really handle the same physical pressures as men? Should special considerations be made for women in the sport? Is your new trainer single? Plus, Max had pissed her off mildly in the post-quali press conference the day before.

“You and your teammate are starting together on the front row, does the team have any concerns at all about that?”

“Not if Kit behaves herself.” Max laughed. Kit looked visibly annoyed at this statement, and it didn't go unnoticed by the people watching. Olive showed her a fan account that night (one of their new hobbies) called @mvpissingoffkk that was entirely dedicated to her looking annoyed at Max. It had over a hundred posts and two thousand followers. One of whom was now Olive.

The formation lap went by as usual. Max angled his car ever so slightly towards Kit, and she was determined to get a good start and not allow him to cut her off. Her heart thumped as the lights lit up one after the other. Then black. Her engine roared as she shot forward, but Max was faster. She fell behind him but Lewis creeped up beside her. With the inside line around the first corner, she was able to get herself in front of him and start focusing on Max. Her mediums were warming up nicely, and she felt as though she would be able to get past Max within this first lap. He got a good start, sure, but he wasn't any faster than her around the track.

He went wide around turn 8, giving Kit the gap to sneak up beside him. He had the inside line around turn 9 so she backed off slightly, knowing that Max wasn't one to leave a whole lot of space. As they sped downhill, Max’s rear twitched slightly, and Kit smiled to herself. He was already making mistakes, that was good. Around the fast corners she gained on him by millimeters, and she even managed to get alongside him up Eau Rouge, but to no avail. He wouldn't give her a gap.

Along the straight she had nothing, being in an identical car, and she only closed up marginally through the corners. Then, as they sped down the hill, a twitch to the left. Then to the right. Then, in half a second, he was sideways on the curb and then in the wall. It was all over for him. Kit felt her stomach drop as she dodged a large piece of debris, and slowed immediately upon seeing the yellow flags.

“Safety car, safety car, stay out.” Hugh said over the radio.

“Is he okay?” Kit said, knowing she sounded more concerned than a teammate should. She didn't care.

“He’s fine, he's out of the car.” Hugh replied, and Kit let out a sigh of relief. The rest of the race was dull in comparison to the first two laps, Kit going practically unchallenged out the front bar a late push from Lewis that was unsuccessful. Perfect pit stop, perfect pacing, and a fastest lap to top it all off. And yet none of it mattered, because something was nagging at the back of her mind to say ‘Max would’ve won, you got lucky.’

“Brilliant race from you Kit.” Hugh said once she'd passed the chequered flag.

“Yeah, shame about Max though.” She said, and Hugh didn't reply. He was probably giving GP a look of confusion at her sympathy. Jenson Button was waiting for her pre-podium interview, and Kit breathed a sigh of relief. He was always nice to her.

“Kit, pretty smooth sailing today, how did you feel out there?” 

Kit adjusted the velcro of her cap over her sweaty hair. “Yeah, pretty good. The car was great, the guys were working super hard to get things ready for this weekend and it clearly paid off. Um, yeah. Shame Max went out so early, for the team and for me. I was looking forward to a good fight with him.”

“I’m sure you were.” Jenson chuckled. “It's quite unusual for you to be upset when your teammate doesn't finish the race, has maybe something changed between you two since Spain where we saw him come to your aid?” Jenson had a grin on his face, and Kit told herself that he was mildly taking the piss out of her. Still, her heart was thudding loudly in her chest.

“I wouldn’t say so.” She smiled in return. “I think our, um, rivalry, as some people like to call it, got a bit blown out of proportion last year and now that reputation has kind of continued on, but we're just teammates like everyone else, and yeah. I was looking forward to a close race today, you know, Lewis was pushing me a bit there at the end, but, you know, what happens, happens.” She shrugged, just talking in circles at this point to avoid the truth. Jenson had a knowing look in his eyes, but bid her farewell anyway. 

That line of questioning continued into the press conference, alongside other unfavourable topics, much to her dismay.

“Kit, David Croft from Sky Sports F1. I just wanted to asked about something you said earlier out in parc fermé with Jenson.” Here we go , she thought to herself, but nodded along politely. “It reminded me almost exactly of an interview back in 2016 with Nico Rosberg and Seb Vettel, Lewis you might remember this too, where Seb was expressing disappointment in Kimi not finishing the race, and Nico said something like ‘you don't really mean that, of course you don’t want your teammate to finish etc’. Now, you and Max have been compared to Lewis and Nico countless times, but your answer was along the lines of Seb’s. What is it about your relationship or rivalry with Max that you think sets you apart from Nico and Lewis or even Seb and Mark Webber?” 

Kit felt ill, and not for the same reason that she felt ill in Spain. “Um, I’m not too sure, to be honest. I think it depends on the race, on who’s winning, on a whole bunch of factors. I mean, I think today specifically I was revved up for a close fight with Max, as I said before, and even if the guy gets on my nerves sometimes I still enjoy the challenge, so it was a shame when he spun off. I don't wanna discredit the team’s hard work nor Lewis’ pressure in those last 10 or so laps, cos I was really sweating, but yeah, I just don't think the victory today is quite as well earned as I had hoped.” Kit heard some chatter over the press zoom that was silenced by the MC, and she groaned internally, pitying Lewis and Valterri sat on either side of her.

“Mike McNally from Autosport, question for Kit. A lot of people wrote off your first two wins of the season as luck, and now that you’ve won again, it was with your teammate out of action. Do you think that, if you win this season, it will feel like a worthy championship, especially given the shortened calendar?” 

“I think that, um,” Kit stammered, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. “I think that, if I were to win this championship, which is obviously the aim, that it won't be a write off as you're implying, because equally if I don't win the championship I’ll still feel that loss as deeply as any other year. And in regards to my three wins of the season, that's three more than I had last year, so I won't be disregarding them even if other people seem to.” 

“Giovanni Basso, Moto Settimanale. Question for Lewis…” Kit relaxed immensely. They were just beating a dead horse at this point, and she was happy that the MC noticed the same thing. 

“Alright, last question.” The MC announced after another ten minutes, and Kit felt relief course through her body.

“Kaitlin French, Auto Daily. Kit, after your performance in Spain, a lot of questions were raised in regards to whether or not women should be subjected to the same rigors in Formula 1 as men, and whether or not the sport is safe for women to participate in alongside men, without it being adapted at all. What are your thoughts on the matter?” 

“Well first of all,” Kit began, and she must've sounded angry because Olive shot her a warning look from the back of the room. “Um, where do I start?” She asked herself quietly as she lost her train of thought.

“Okay, well, first and foremost, there was no ‘performance’ in Spain,” she said, lifting her hands for the air quotes, “I was experiencing severe dehydration due to a miscalculation by certain members of the team, and it's attitudes like yours that don't help the matter, because the less women are allowed to participate in strenuous, high risk sports like motor racing, the more things like this will happen because there's simply not enough information on how women's bodies react in certain situations.

“Formula 1 isn't especially unsafe for women, it's just plain unsafe for everyone, but that isn't news. And every driver on this track understands the risks they subject themselves to when they get into the car. Things like what happened in Spain happen because of factors that can be mitigated outside the car. If a male driver was as dehydrated as I was, he would've experienced the same thing. But what I really wanna emphasise here, is that it would never, ever be a male driver in my situation, because sports science has understood the minutiae of the stresses that a male body undergoes for decades. I’ve actually forgotten what the question was, but hopefully that um, answers it.” Kit laughed in disbelief at herself, and made contact with Olive’s widened eyes. The girl sent her a tentative thumbs up, and Kit grinned back under her mask. 

“That was scary.” Lewis said to her as they stood up to leave, and Kit had to turn to look at his face to see whether or not he was joking.

“Yeah? Good.” Kit smiled. 

“And don't listen to any of that bullshit about whether or not you deserve your wins. You're second on the board for a reason.” He continued.

“Hmm, some of your fans would probably disagree. It's just the car, that kind of stuff.” Kit replied.

“You think I haven't heard the ‘it’s all the car’ argument before? I’m the fucking king of it’s just the car.” Lewis laughed, and Kit felt immediately a million times better. 

Walking through the paddock, Kit found it pretty easy to avoid being reeled into the roving journalists. After all, half of them were working under the impression that she was going to collapse at any moment. However, the usual Sky Sports culprits couldn't be so easily deterred. To make matters better, they were already interviewing Max. Wonderful.

“Ah, here's your teammate. A word, Kit?” Jenson asked, a mischievous expression evident on his face, even with the mask.

“Sure.” She obliged, and stationed herself next to Max, accepting a microphone from one of the camera operators.

“We were just asking Max how he thought the race might’ve gone differently had he stayed out, what are your thoughts?” The main host whose name Kit always forgot asked.

“Well if he'd behaved himself, I’m sure we would've had a pretty good fight for first. Hopefully I still would've won.” Kit grinned, referencing his post qualifying comments the day before. Max wasn't in a joking mood, but she didn't really care.

“That's just the thing though, are either of you willing to, you know, be cordial and sportsmanlike and what-have-you when you're only separated by four points in the championship? I mean, I’d be pulling my hair out.” Jenson grinned, the shit stirrer.

“Personally, I don't see why I would drive any differently than normal.” Max shrugged.

“Your normal isn't exactly cordial though, is it?” Kit laughed back. Max was still unamused, and Kit hurried to cover up the stony silence. “I’m not gonna shunt him off track or anything, but as you said Jenson, we’re practically tied, so I wouldn’t be surprised if things get, uh, tense.”

“Because they're so relaxed already.” The main host said sarcastically. “Alright, over to Karun at the skypad to take a look at lap 2.”

Kit laughed as Max glared in the direction of the presenters. His gaze flicked onto her, and Kit might've been delusional, be she swore it warmed ever so slightly once it landed on her.

“What?” He grunted. 

“Nothing. I’m just laughing that you’re so predictable.” Kit grinned. Something about him being so annoyed at the loss seemed to validate the win in her heart. Another reason why they really should not be together. Only one of them could be happy about their careers at a time. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I don't know how to lose.” Max grumbled. Kit thought she might even see the slightest smile in his eyes. 

“How’s, uh,” don't say it, Kit, don't say it, “how’s your dad?” 

Max sighed. Why did she have to say it? “He’s not too happy. He said that if I lose this championship to you he’ll disown me.” Max tried to laugh.

“Jesus.” Kit sighed. 

“Better than Helmut. He said that he might have to retire out of shame if I lose.” 

They were still in the paddock, but Kit wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug. It was a feeling she had to fight off more and more frequently these days. 

“Fuck ‘em.” Kit said quietly, not knowing how else to respond.

“They aren't the problem, you are.” Max replied.

“Sorry?” Kit asked.

“You keep fucking beating me.” He said, and Kit wasn't being delusional this time when she noticed the smile under his mask as he disappeared off to his driver room.

It was a fairly early night by the time the engineering meeting ended, given Kit’s car had performed almost faultlessly, and they’d concluded that Max’s DNF was ‘driver error’. Well, everyone bar Jos, but he knew his place well enough to keep his mouth shut. His eyes glaring into the side of Kit’s head were loud enough. 

Her hotel room welcomed her with cold indifference, a stark contrast to the win celebrations of previous years. Part of her was grateful to be granted more privacy than was typical. Another part of her craved the attention that accompanied a race win. She missed night clubs, she missed drinking, she missed something outside of the media-race-travel cycle that she'd become locked into. She missed Max a bit too, but that was besides the point. 

She spied the bottle of champagne in the corner of her room and decided that she deserved a treat for her victory. The golden liquid bubbled beautifully against the fancy hotel glasses, and the only thing missing from the picturesque beverage was a single strawberry. Kit pottered into the bathroom slowly as she sipped from her drink, and investigated the cupboards and shower shelf to see what toiletries she could take advantage of. An expensive looking brown plastic bottle of bubble bath caught her eye, and she placed it on the sink in glee. As the steam of the bath’s hot water filled the small bathroom, Kit discarded her clothes and found her phone to put on some music. Her hair in a messy top knot, she slid down into the bubbles (while drinking her bubbles) and thought that she hadn't done too bad for herself.

After just one glass, Kit made the rookie error of resting her eyes, closing them against the harsh overhead lights of the bathroom. The warm water was so thick with soap that it felt gelatinous against her limbs, and it was as though she was sinking down through honey. She drifted in and out of consciousness, only realising because the songs playing were seemingly skipping in random order. She had no idea how long she’d been half asleep for, but was only saved from a night spent resting in the bath by a harsh, repetitive banging on her hotel door. 

Her heart jumped into her throat and her body jolted upright, everything feeling slightly fuzzing and disconnected from sleep. She ambled awkwardly out of the tub and dried herself quickly, wrapping the towel around her middle to go and inspect her visitor through the peephole. Through fish-eyed distortion, Kit saw Max standing outside her door, running his hands through his hair and then over his face and back again. Her jitteriness subsided somewhat, and without even thinking about how she was dressed (or not dressed) she opened the door.

“Kit, hi, I’m sorry I just needed-” Max began, stopping abruptly when he saw her standing there just in a towel. “Is this a bad time?” 

Kit looked down at herself and got flushed. “No, no, sorry, come in and I’ll get changed.” She grabbed her pyjamas from her suitcases and scurried back into the bathroom to change as Max sat down on one of the hotel armchairs. After closing the door behind her, she let out a deep breath and spotted herself in the mirror. What was wrong with her? Opening the door in a towel? Jesus christ. The soapy bath water swirled down into the drain as she slipped her pjs on, and she took extra care folding her towel to place back on the rack as an avoidance tactic. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever though, and eventually she opened the door again. 

Max was tapping rapidly on his knee, eyes darting around her room. She didn’t miss the way his gaze hardened upon seeing the huge bottle of champagne. 

“What’s up?” Kit asked casually, despite her mind whirring at a million miles an hour. She sat cross legged on the bed across from him folding her hands in her lap. 

“My, uh, my dad came to my hotel room and was having a go at me. I told him I had somewhere to be, and um, yeah. I didn’t know where else to go.” He sighed, looking up at Kit with the saddest blue eyes she’d ever seen. They were nearly swimming with unshed tears, and she felt her heart break a little bit. 

“So you came here?” Kit asked, not sure if she was happy or upset about the fact. 

“Yeah, if you want me to leave, I will.” He said quickly. 

“No, no, don’t leave. We could, um, watch a movie?” Kit offered awkwardly.

“I kind of just wanna sleep.” Max said softly, averting his gaze to look out the window. 

“Of course, um…” Kit trailed off, looking back at her queen bed. She had no qualms about sleeping in the same bed with Max from a physical standpoint, after all, they’d done it many times before, it was the emotional part that she didn’t know if she could handle. 

“Kit, look.” Max said with a tone of desperation in his voice, clearly noticing the cogs whirring behind her eyes. “I know why we can’t, you know, be like we were before. I get why you broke it off, it wouldn’t work, I get that.” He was practically pleading. “But right now I, I need you, Kit.” His voice cracked slightly as he became more and more emotional. Kit knew she should refuse, say that she wasn’t just gonna be there at his beck and call when he decided he wasn’t mad at her for winning. But on the other hand, she also knew that there was no way she was saying no to him, not tonight at least. 

“Hop in then.” Kit fought away a smile, and nodded backwards towards her bed. Max let out a shaky breath and stood up, slipping off his shoes and shuffling under the covers. Kit got up to turn the overhead light off and slipped into bed next to him. In the darkness, she couldn’t quite tell where he was, and for a moment thought she may have misread the situation entirely. Then she felt a hand pawing around for her waist, pulling her in closer once he’d found it. His arm encircled her, his large hand finding its way under her top to rest on her bare back. 

Kit swept aside the rational voice in the back of her head telling her that this was all going to end so, so badly, and figured that she may as well make the most of the moment she’d been craving deep down. She lifted her left leg to rest on top of his thighs and she felt his grip on her tighten slightly. The smell of his t-shirt was so familiar, and the fabric was soft against her cheek that rested on his chest. In that moment it was like she hadn’t felt fully grounded in weeks, and she was finally home. Home . Fuck. She associated Max with being home. That was so not good. Terrible, in fact. 

“Go to sleep. Stop worrying.” Max whispered softly, his breath warm against the top of her head. 

“You make me worry.” Kit said quietly. 

“Sorry.” Max replied, and she could hear his smile. 

“And anyway, I thought I was supposed to be the one to make you less worried.” Kit joked softly. 

“You already have.” He said, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I’m sorry that your dad’s such a shithead.” Kit whispered.

“Don’t talk about him.” Max replied sharply. “I only wanna think about you.” 

“Max…” Kit trailed off with a warning note in her voice. 

“Just for tonight, hmm?” Max hummed, already sounding sleepy. Kit was sure if she turned the lights back on his eyes would be closed. 

“Okay.” She said warily. 

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asked sincerely. Kit was quiet for a few moments, but knew she couldn’t lie. 

“No.” She replied. “I’m too comfortable. That’s why I’m worried.” 

“Just go to sleep.” Max instructed, and Kit could only let herself comply. It was so easy to press herself as close to him as possible, to snuggle into the extra warmth he provided. To feel safe in his arms. She tried to pinpoint when exactly things had become so complicated between them, but the beating of Max’s heart and the steady rise and fall of his chest lulled her to sleep before she could. 

The next morning was a very quiet one. Kit hadn’t closed the curtains the night before, so she woke up disgustingly early to the Belgian sun beaming directly through her retinas into the back of her skull. Not wanting to leave Max’s arms, she simply turned her face to press into his chest, shielding herself from the light. At the movement, Max mumbled something incoherent and potentially Dutch, pulling Kit closer. She smiled into his t-shirt and chose not to think about how complicated this had all become. 

She didn’t fall back asleep, but the morning sleepy haze was enough to make the time pass just as quickly until Max woke up properly with a long, deep groan. 

“Morning, schatje.” He mumbled. Without thinking, Kit looked up at him with wide, potentially scared eyes at hearing the nickname. “Oh sorry.” He said quietly, closing his eyes again. She regretted getting spooked so easily, but it was probably for the best anyway. This was never going to work in the long run, it was better not to entertain the fantasy that it could. 

They remained in their close position for another five or ten minutes, until, as per usual, Max’s phone buzzed, and he had to extricate himself from Kit’s hold to get out of bed and answer it. She originally thought it was his dad, but after a few moments of hushed talking she could distinguish the words as being German, not Dutch. So it was probably Helmut. Even worse. 

“I’ve gotta go.” He said, turning back around and slipping his previously discarded shoes back on. 

“Helmut?” Kit asked, still partially asleep. 

“Yeah. He wants to talk.” Max grunted unhappily. 

“Good luck.” Kit smiled at him. He didn’t reply, and just nodded smally before slipping out. What a confusing boy. 

Chapter Text

A cool breeze wafted through the paddock on a late Thursday afternoon in Imola. Kit shivered lightly, only donned in a polo shirt and jeans after a fairly balmy day. She was sitting outside the RedBull motorhome, her book abandoned in front of her on a small picnic table. A Room With A View . The irony wasn't lost on her. The season had practically felt like one long seventeentuple header, with each city being experienced from the clinical confines of hotels and the track. She missed nightclubs more than she ever thought she would. She missed the feeling of someone touching her with no strings attached. Without that someone being shrouded in strange sexual hatred and racing.

“Somone looks deeply pensive this afternoon.” Daniel’s voice awoke her from her thoughtful stupor. 

“What can I say, I’m just a deep-thinking kinda gal.” Kit chuckled, turning in her chair to face him. He was almost painful to look at, the orange of the evening sun setting his bright yellow team shirt alight. 

“Championship leader, I could imagine that it’s a bit stressful?” He chuckled and sat down at her table. She briefly thought that they technically weren’t allowed to do this, but then she shoved that thought aside. If she couldn’t find comfort in the arms of a stranger, then the words of a friend would have to do. 

“I don’t think it’s that.” It’s Max, and we can’t tell him that it’s Max . “I mean, I don’t know, maybe. It would probably be worse in a normal year but, I don’t know, I miss everyone.” She shrugged. 

“Same. I miss the noise, my voice echoes down the paddock.” Daniel chuckled. “I haven’t spoken to you in so long. Where have you been?” 

“You know, testing my frail body to its limits, winning by a fluke, becoming gal pals with my new trainer. Just the usual.” Kit smiled from under her mask. 

“God, you know if you strangle one of those bastards, you probably have a provocation argument there. If I were you, I would’ve snapped.” Daniel replied. 

“You so would not have, mister smiley.” Kit thought of all the times she’d yelled at Max in the past year, and maintained the smile on her face. “It’s strategical rage.” 

“That’s always directed at me?” Max said, coming up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders. He removed them quickly when he saw the action be met with a quizzical gaze from Charles. 

“Not always.” Kit retorted, unable to push the thoughts of last Sunday in Belgium out of her head. In fact, she’d been thinking about that night all week. 

“How are you, mate?” Max redirected his focus to Daniel.

“Eh, fine. Kinda bored, just wallowing in the midfield, nowhere to drink my sorrows away other than my hotel room.” Daniel laughed and shrugged.

“Surely you can buy yourself a bit of happiness with all that McLaren sign-on money.” Max replied, sitting down next to Kit. His elbow brushed her upper arm as he sat down, before picking up her book, held open by being face down on the table. 

“Ah, the youth of today, so materialistic.” Daniel laughed, obfuscating the talks of money with saracasm. 

“I’ve seen your apartment, so, you know, pot, kettle?” Kit said, gesturing between them. In her peripheral vision she saw Max looking mildly confused at the rearranged idiom, and she ignored the fact that she found it cute. 

“Speaking of apartments, where exactly are you living these days?” Daniel asked, and Kit’s stomach dropped as she realised what unspoken knowledge they all shared, and at the fact that Daniel had been updated by someone that wasn’t her that she’d moved out of Max’s. That someone clearly being Max. 

“Near my old place, it’s, quaint.” Kit replied, trying to ignore the layer of implication that settled over the conversation. Max appeared to be using telepathy to communicate with Daniel, the latter not losing his grin for a second. 

“Well,” Daniel cleared his throat, “I’ll leave you bulls to it, hmm?” His eyes shot to Max, then back to Kit, then Max again, and Kit felt like she was under a microscope. Heat was creeping up her neck, and suddenly she could feel her shirt pressing against her skin like it was sandpaper. 

“Were you reading this?” Max grinned, looking over at Kit as he picked up her book. 

“Don’t change the subject.” Kit said defensively, snatching the book away and folding the corner of the page down to save her spot.

“Okay, normally I know why I’ve pissed you off and just don’t wanna admit it, but this time I actually don’t know.” Max remained smiling. 

“I’m not pissed off at you.” Kit replied, looking over and meeting his gaze. He looked so fond that she started to feel a bit sick. “I’m, I don’t know, it just surprised me, that’s all.” 

“What? That Daniel knew you’d moved out? You know he’s like one of my best friends.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Kit scratched at the back of her neck. 

“He’s the only person I’ve told.” Max said earnestly. She felt even sicker. 

“Guess it doesn’t matter now, that’s all behind us.” Kit stood up, book in hand, and looked at Max with finality. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” He said quietly. He looked side to side and, upon seeing no witnesses, brought his fingers up to graze the back of her thigh. His touch burnt through the denim, but she flinched away from him anyway. 

“Max,” She began in warning. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He sighed, lifting his hands in surrender. 

“Can you try and promise me something?” 

“Sure.” 

 “This weekend, no matter what happens, who wins, who loses, we can stay like this, yeah? Friendly.” 

Max huffed out a laugh and shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t matter what I say, you know as soon as I’m in the car it won’t matter. You’re the exact same.” 

Kit smiled in spite of his words and, against her better judgment, reached out a hand to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “Yeah, I know. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“See you.” Max smiled. She fought the urge to turn around and get another look at him as she walked back into the motorhome. 

The weekend wasn’t going too well. Qualifying fifth and seventh was disappointing for everyone, given that Lewis had qualified on pole and was looking to sweep the points on offer that weekend, closing his already small gap to Kit and Max. No one was as disappointed as Kit though, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands when Hugh’s end of session radio message came through. “P7 Kit, only .002 to Norris.” 

That night, Helmut could be heard wherever you were in the motorhome. His angry grumbling was shaking the walls, and he was stomping around as though he was a cartoon giant about to raze a village. After this race, the season would be halfway through, which to Helmut meant that the time for mistakes was over. He wanted poles or nothing. Wins or nothing.

As Kit was leaving to go back to the hotel and try and sleep away her poor qualifying, she heard the familiar grumbling emanating from Max’s room, and suppressed her pavlovian response at hearing Helmut’s voice to run in order to press her ear to the wall and listen in. They were speaking German, of course. Fuck. 

Instead of giving in, because she was feeling nosy now, she opened her voice memo app and began recording, crouching down so that the microphone on her phone was close to the opening at the bottom of the door. She remained there in her budget secret-service pose until she heard shuffling, at which point she pressed stop on her phone and sped walked out of the motorhome to the car she’d driven to the track. 

Once in the driver’s seat, she played back the recording. Obviously she couldn’t understand it, but it was audible. She pressed the share button, and Olive’s message contact popped up second, only after Ceci. 

hope you can translate this, I was feeling nosy 

ps it’s helmut and max

Immediately, a response. 

olive 🫒🍸: yes OF COURSE

olive 🫒🍸 : i love espionage

By the time Kit had made it back to her hotel room, showered, and picked up reading her book, (which was nearly done), Olive got back to her. 

olive 🫒🍸: okay so not my finest work, an angry austrian is very hard to understand, but this is what I got

olive 🫒🍸: H - the car is very good…fault(?)...winning…not good enough…and…but…she…she…fuck…

M (a lot easier to understand) - and if I don’t win? unfortunately I can’t…it’s really not your problem Helmut, RedBull wins either way

H - it is my problem boy/child/kid, you are…a lot of time…not for her

M (interrupts him) - This is so screwed up/fucked/wrong(?), I’m not…

olive 🫒🍸:  i think we get the gist tho 😬

Kit was annoyed but unsurprised. 

thanks agent O 🤩

you’re my fav spy

olive 🫒🍸: i’m gonna have to take up german again

i’ll pay for it

olive 🫒🍸: okay sugar momma

olive 🫒🍸:  i think i might also need an apartment in berlin for the full immersion

Kit snorted. 

don’t push your luck

She switched off her phone and closed her eyes, blocking out the yellow light from her bedside lamp. At least Max didn’t seem to be happy with Helmut’s assertions that, if the team had anything to do about it, Max would be winning the championship. And it wasn’t like this was some big reveal, Helmut had never hidden the fact that he didn’t like her. There was just the gnawing, churning, feeling in her gut that no matter what she did, this would always be the way it was.

The next morning, it seemed as though Helmut was everywhere she looked. On her side of the garage, talking to Hugh, lingering just out of earshot anywhere she went. She was making her way to the grid, race suit hanging around her hips, and Martin locked her in as a target. She was too distracted staring at where Max and Helmut were muttering like a mafia boss and his son to brush him off, so she was locked in. She hoped her sunglasses somewhat obscured the direction of her vision. 

“Kit, starting from seventh today, not exactly ideal, is it?”

“No it’s not.” She could only smile. 

“Gameplan? Are you going to be racing with Max today?” Martin asked in his usual shit-stirrer way. 

“Martin, what do you think?” Kit laughed, and she was glad to see him laugh too.

“You’re right, silly question. Well, all the best for today, try not to give Christian too many grey hairs.” 

Kit nodded amicably, as she tried to make a beeline for her car, avoiding the few other reporters that were now allowed on the grid. She immediately felt like an asshole when her first thought upon getting into the car was fuck, this is far back . She looked in front of her at Max’s car, still in an Austrian mafia huddle with Helmut. I bet he’s getting him riled up. She thought to herself. It was seriously so easy to do it. Just hit him where he was weak. Tell him he wasn’t good enough. Tell him that if he got beat by a girl, it would be proof he wasn’t good enough. That he would never be world champion. That he’s just here because of his dad. That a girl, a girl , was beating him in the championship. That he’d been bred by RedBull since he was out of the womb, and if a girl who’d only joined the team a year ago got a championship before him, well, could he ever live that down?

Kit felt queezy as her mind ran through this scenario. Under their masks, it was easy to imagine that Helmut was saying these things. Max’s furrowed brow, his angry eyes. Kit was glad he didn’t make that promise to her, but she still found herself making an internal promise she knew she couldn’t keep. However he acts after this race, don’t blame him. Don’t let yourself get angry. You’ve been doing it for a year, it’s getting old. You know it’s not his fault, not really, not at the core of it. You can’t expect a kid who’s been raised by wolves to live like a man and not an animal. 

She overtook Lando in about a millisecond, that was no sweat. It was the following 45 laps that made her itch with anticipation. The second she would get close enough for an overtake, Max would pull away. It was almost like he was teasing her, playing a cat and mouse game. He was pawing at her, let her grit her teeth and shoot for the gap only to close it up again. It got ridiculous around one particular corner, where she had to rapidly downshift and step on the brakes because he cut her off so aggressively. 

“C’mon man, that can’t be safe.” Kit groaned down the radio.

“Just keep your head down Kit.” Hugh replied vaguely. 

“Is he making any headway on Checo?” She replied sharply. 

“Focus on your race, he’s doing good time.” Hugh continued. 

“Good time my ass.” Kit mumbled, her stomach dropping when she noticed her radio still on. Hugh didn’t reply, probably because he knew he wasn’t meant to hear that. Another couple of laps, another few close calls. Kit’s ears were practically steaming. He was moving under braking, he was taunting her. She was sure the only reason he didn’t have a penalty yet was because she’d been tactfully avoiding him. His strategy was working though. Where earlier in the race she was shooting for every gap, now she was keeping her distance, not wanting to end up tangled in his erratic but calculated driving. 

“We wanna pick up the pace Kit, aiming for a 1-5-0.” Hugh said over the radio,and Kit huffed. She would be driving faster if Max was pretending they were in a no rules karting race. Fine, I’ll fucking pick up the pace. I’ll get past this bastard and I’ll pick up the fucking pace.

She was close again, feeling her tyres degrade in the dirty air. She was practically bumper to bumper with him. Picking up speed on the run down to 17, the fastest part of the lap. She could feel the slipstream propelling her forward, and swung out to take the outside line. He moved out to fend her off, which wasn’t technically allowed but she knew he would get away with it. He was a late braker, but she could brake later, she could find a gap.

It was this thinking that was the downfall of this maneuver. Because Max Verstappen, last of the late brakers, did not brake late. And Kit, even with her honed reflexes, couldn’t slam her foot on the brake fast enough to avoid ramming the back of Max’s car, sending them both off and into the gravel. Kit’s gaze was dizzy for a moment or two, before she realised what had happened and came back into her body. “Fuck!” She yelled inside her helmet. She secured her car and hauled herself out, ignoring the marshalls waving their arms and trying to shepherd her off the track.

Kit stormed towards Max’s car, where she could see him taking out the steering wheel and getting out of the car too. It was stupid, it was unsafe, petty, childish, and incredibly unprofessional. But none of those things had ever seemed to stop Max from doing anything, so she just kept marching. To her morbid delight, Max was marching straight to her too. 

“Are you a fucking idiot? Huh?” Kit yelled.

“Me? I’m the idiot? You fucking rammed me up the ass. The fuck was that?” Max’s voice was muffled, but it did nothing to hide the rage he was feeling. Kit flipped up her visor, and Max did the same. His face was red, his eyes squinted and angry. 

“You were playing with me all fucking race, breaking all the fucking rules and you get mad when I don’t dodge away from you? You are unbelievable, you really expect everyone to just dance around you because you drive like a fucking lunatic, huh?” Kit yelled. She pushed him sharply on the shoulder, the finger that was pointing angrily at him being joined by her other digits to dig into his race suit just above his armpit. It was after this that the marshalls in the periphery of the fight stepped in, and both were escorted off the track. 

Kit was seeing red. She flipped her visor down and whacked her fist into the wire fence that separated the track from the grass beyond it. Except she didn’t hit the wire, she hit the metal pole that held up the edge of it. Pain shot up her arm, but strangely, it made her feel better. She wanted to scream. She couldn’t do media, she would end up saying something incriminating, proof of intent in a murder trial, perhaps. Max got off the scooter ahead of her, and stormed off towards the motorhome. Kit didn’t let him get far.

She pulled off her helmet and balaclava and grabbed his forearm, not actually strong enough to spin him around, but clearly he wasn’t done either, and turned around anyway. 

“You do realise how fucking stupid that was, right? All because Helmut whispered something in your ear? What are you, a lap dog?” Kit spat, her yelling muted due to the presence of other people in the paddock. Max took of his helmet and balaclava, his face in its stony, enraged mask. 

“I was racing. Clearly you couldn’t handle it, or losing to me, so you ruined it for both of us. I can handle pressure, you can’t.” 

Kit saw Olive half-running, half-walking over Max’s shoulder. “If you wanna listen to Helmut fucking Marko, be my guest, but don’t be surprised when the trophy at the end doesn’t fix anything.” She shoved past him, their shoulders knocking together as she walked briskly towards Olive. 

“What an ass.” Olive muttered, taking Kit’s helmet, gloves and balaclava from her. 

“How did it look?” Kit asked. 

“What, the crash or the argument? I think I’m biased for both.” 

Kit forced out a smile. “Give me your best unbiased review.” 

“Crash, definitely on Max, everyone was basically waiting for it to happen the way he was driving.” 

“And the argument?” Kit pushed. Olive hesitated. 

“I mean, it was only like two seconds ago, barely anyone’s seen it.”

Kit gave her a flat look. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“Okay, so, the little push poke thing is what most people are, you know, commenting, on.” Olive dragged out. 

“In a bad way.” It wasn’t a question. 

“How about we talk about this tonight, hmm?” Olive said positively. 

“I have to go do press, like now, Ol.” Kit groaned. 

“Okay, so, basically some people are saying that you’re being all emotional woman and that if Max had touched you it would’ve been game over for him, but you can push him cos you’re a woman, yadda yadda double standards, should’ve kept it on track, too personal, you know, just, like, that kinda thing.” The speed of her words directly correlated to how negative they were.

“Okay.” Kit said flatly. 

“Um, right, yeah, it’s fine? Right?” Olive said nervously, before whispering, “You’re not getting all quiet because you’re planning, like, a homicidal psychotic break, right?” 

Kit had to let out a snort. “You know I wasn’t an angry person before Max? Maybe I should try and go back to that, water off a duck’s back.” 

“Yeah?” Olive looked skeptical.

“I mean, I think that ship’s sailed, but maybe I should try. Just for today.” Kit didn’t know what had come over her. The lack of shock upon hearing what was being said about her had settled over her anger like a thick layer of sediment, and it was strangely calming. The only thing that broke through the seal was the thought of Max being genuinely mad at her. That was new. 

The image of Helmut lurking, grumbling, stomping around the motorhome, whispering evil things into Max’s ear. It made her heart break just a little bit. She didn’t want Max to be angry at her. She didn’t want him to toy with her, on the track or off. But she still wanted him. She wanted him so badly it hurt, so badly that her hands started to shake, her heart start to pound.

“Are you ready?” Olive asked before they entered the media pen. 

Kit blinked a few times. “Yeah, I think I am.” 

Reporters smiled at her sadly, but with a glint of joy in their eyes. This was an excellent story. 

“Kit, such a shame, and so late in the race, what happened out there?” A reporter asked. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah it was a shame. It was just a tangle, I think it had been coming for a while, both of us racing so closely for so many laps, and yeah, probably inevitable considering the circumstances.” 

“And what were those circumstances exactly?” I don’t like this feeling, I don’t wanna fight with Max. I don’t wanna make him angrier. Another voice cut through. You can’t be with him anyway. Why not burn the bridge now? Cut him off completely? You may as well, there won’t be a better chance than this. 

“Probably Max driving like a lunatic.” The reporter was unable to hide her smug smile. Her broadcaster would be able to sell that sound bite for hundreds of thousands, and she was bound to get a commission. 

“The FiA have concluded it was a racing incident with no further investigation required, do you still hold that opinion?” 

“Yep.” Kit grinned. She felt a little bit hysterical, to be honest. Walking the tightrope between total elation and total meltdown. 

“Okay, well, glad to see you seem to have gotten the negative feelings out of your system. Anything to say about that little altercation with Max?” 

Now she sounded condescending. Kit’s smile dropped slightly. “I wouldn’t call it little. And no, not really. I don’t think I really left much to the imagination.”

“Alright, thanks for speaking with us.” 

As she made her way over to the next reporter, she could hear Max speaking. “No, I don’t think it was my fault. She ran into me, what was I supposed to do?” Weirdly, she didn’t feel the usual Max rage wash over her. She must’ve used one of her juiciest lines in their argument, but it was all just a rage blackout now. 

“Kit, hi, not the ideal race for you today.” You’re fuckin’ telling me. “Could you tell us your side?” 

“Just a racing incident.” Kit smiled to herself.

“Is that what you really think?” This one was a man, and Kit felt less inclined to humour him. 

“Maybe it is.” 

“And what do you have to say about the push, where you made physical contact with Max? Would you say that was an overreaction?” 

“Hmm, sure. I am just an emotional woman after all.” Olive pinched the back of her elbow. She felt seriously hysterical now. Her eyes were watering, filled to the brim. She wasn’t about to cry though. More like, about to burst. Her emotions were unnameable, she just felt ready to pop. 

“Haha, right.” The interviewer said awkwardly. 

“What do you think?” Kit asked. Her brain was like TV static. 

“What do I think?” 

“Yeah, about the race, the crash, the arguments, what do you think?” Kit smiled. 

“I don’t think that’s relevant.” 

“Okay.” Kit shrugged, and let herself be guided away by Olive. 

“Would you rather a fine, or a ruined reputation?” Olive whispered. 

“I’m that bad?” Kit nearly laughed. Maybe she got whiplash in the crash. 

“I don’t know. You’re kinda freaking me out.” Olive grinned tentatively. Kit looked over at Max speaking to more reporters, shaking his head and shrugging and fiddling with his cap. 

“I’ll be on my best behaviour. It won’t be on you, promise.” Kit winked. 

“Kit, Max has had a few things to say about you, negligent driving, inappropriate conduct off the track, what do you have to say?” 

“Kit, how do you respond to criticisms of your reaction today?” 

“Kit, is this a sign that relations between you and Max haven’t healed, despite your earlier assertions?” 

“Kit, how do you think your relationship with Max off the track led to today’s events?” 

“Kit, do you think you can still win the championship?” 

“Kit, do you think if Max had behaved the way you did today, there would be different repercussions?” 

“Kit, are you on your period? Kit, did you tits help soften the impact? Kit, would you help Max suck Helmut’s dick if he asked? Kit, how have you not seen this light shining out of Max’s ass? It’s so bright.” Kit muttered on the walk back to the motorhome. Olive was very quiet next to her. The race was just now wrapping up, but the RedBull motorhome was bustling, everyone given a ten lap headstart on their post race activities. 

“Christian in five minutes.” Olive updated her once she’d changed out of her race clothes. 

“Yay.” Kit said plainly, chewing off the first bite of a muesli bar. 

“Are you alright?” Olive asked. 

“I have no idea.” Kit shook her head at her self. “I think, no, I don’t know.” 

“No, keep going.” 

“I think, I, um, I just really want Max back. My Max.” Kit sniffled, squeezing her eyes just and rubbing under them with the back of her hand. She wouldn’t cry. She’d just wasted tens of millions of dollars in damage to her car, and she was about to cry over a fucking boy . 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Olive was all of a sudden ten years older than her, not three years younger. She pulled her into her arms, and Kit rested her head on her shoulder. She only realised how weat her face was with semi-shed tears when the damp fabric pressed back into her skin. “He’s just a silly boy, he’ll turn around.” 

“No he won’t.” Kit said thickly, shaking her head. “I can’t, I can’t keep waiting for him. I just can’t do it. He’s not for me, it’s never gonna work.” 

“It seems like you want it to.” Olive said softly, rubbing her back. 

“I want a lot of things, Ol.” Kit murmured. She felt better now that she’d diagnosed the root of her inner turmoil. “Max, he’s got too many people around him, too many voices telling him all he’s built for is winning. I know that’s not true, I do, but he can’t, he doesn’t care about me.” 

“Then fuck him, cut him loose. He’s not your problem to fix. Burn the bridge. Stop speaking to him. Become your own woman. It’s fucking corny, I know, but he’s not your responsibility. I know you love him, but love can fade, especially if it’s not good for you.” 

“I don’t love him.” Was all Kit could reply with. 

“Okay.” Olive said, pulling away to show her a tight lipped smile. “Want me to call in sick for you?” 

“No.” Kit sniffled loudly. “No, it’s fine. They already think I’m an emotional maniac, the tear tracks can just add fuel to the fire.” 

“Alright, let’s go then.” Olive said, taking her hand in her own. She nearly cried again at the gesture. The halls were full of people pretending not to look. Kit’s face was feeling drier, but she knew her eyes would still be red-rimmed. Christian’s small motorhome office had nothing in it except for himself, a desk, Max Verstappen, and an empty chair. Like a puzzle and she was the last piece. 

“Ah, so the unbothered facade was indeed a facade.” Christian said as Kit walked in and closed the door behind her, leaving Olive outside to pace and bite her nails. 

“Well, I’m emotionally unstable, so…” Kit trailed off, shrugging as she sat down. She tried not to wipe her eyes. 

“Okay, cut the shit. Both of you.” Christian said sharply. “Look, I get it, you get heated in the car. You waste, maybe 20 million pounds in damages. Hours of work at the factory. My hair starts turning grey. You both sacrifice points for yourselves and the team. We don’t win the championship. all of that, I can manage, that’s my fucking job. But when you two start arguing like children, start hitting each other, yelling in the gravel on the track while marshal’s are trying to drag you away, pff.” Christian huffed. 

“It won’t happen again.” Max murmured. 

“Damn right it won’t. And you won’t drive like a fucking psycho again. I don’t give a fuck what Helmut says, okay? He’s not your boss, I am. The next time he pulls that shit again I want you to remember this moment, alright? I know you’re the fucking golden boy, but you don’t have some kind of immunity badge.” Christian breathed out a long sigh, and Kit could practically see the greys sprouting.

“This isn’t like the last time I told you two to get along. Quite frankly, I don’t care anymore. But both of you are driving too fucking well, and this car is too fucking fast for either of you to screw it by having a tantrum. As far as I’m concerned, we have two strong contenders in this championship, and either one of you could take it. But it has to be one of you, got it?” Kit nodded obediently. Max was still. 

“I think Max wants you to say it’s his.” Kit mumbled. 

“You wanna speak up?” Max spat.

“You, out.” Christian said to Max. The latter didn’t complain, and obeyed silently. 

“So it’s his then?” Kit said once the door was closed. 

“No, not at all. It’s team, it could be either of you and I’d be happy.” Christian replied diplomatically. 

“Yeah, you, maybe. It would look great, first female champion, youngest champion, RedBull the pioneers of progress. But we both know who would be furious, furious enough to find some loophole in his contract and pull him out. You won’t let that happen.” Kit said. She’d never spoken so familiarly with Christian, except perhaps when she’d nearly begged him for a contract. That seemed so long ago now.

“I know.” Christian sighed. “At the end of the day, and, this stays between us, yes?” 

Kit nodded.

“I don’t know why, because he hasn’t said anything, but I have a feeling that if you wanted him to stay, he would. Even if Jos and Helmut broke their backs trying to get him to leave.” 

Kit pursed her lips together, but stayed quiet. She didn’t really know what he was insinuating here. 

“I’m, look, I don’t wanna know what’s going on between you two, okay? Maybe you really do hate each other. I don’t think it’s that. Again, I don’t want to know. When it works, when you two work, it really works. And when it doesn’t, when Max lets them in, it breaks apart. I can tell. If he hadn’t spent his entire life trying to live up to expectations that kept getting higher and higher, I’m sure you two would get along great.” 

Kit felt the tears well up again. “I don’t think I can deal with it anymore. With them, with him when he’s under their thumb.” 

“Kit, just keep it fucking private, yeah?” Anyone else would’ve sounded pleading. 

“Yeah.” She nodded. 

“Get some sleep, you look like you need it.” He dismissed her. She still had something gnawing at her though. 

“The push, was it really that bad?” 

Christian snorted. “I would’ve socked him.” 

Kit let out a wet laugh, and nodded in parting. Outside, Olive was madly typing away. 

“Damage control?” Kit whispered. 

“No, just, um, drafts. Drafting.” Olive hummed. 

“Can I look? Not at the drafts, at, you know, everything.” 

“Maybe we can have a little sleepover. I think you’ll need a second perspective.” Olive smiled thinly.

“We can get room service chips and watch Twilight while I cry about everything.” Kit asserted, putting her arm over Olive’s shoulder. 

“Should we conference call in Ceci?” Olive suggested, and Kit grinned. 

“She’ll get the full rundown later. Tonight is for you and me sister.” 

Chapter Text

Kit had never gone so long without speaking to Max. It had become like second nature, avoiding him at all costs. It helped that he was nearly always accompanied by somebody Kit didn’t want to talk to, with the exception of Daniel and Charles. They were essentially her only two friends in the paddock, minus Olive, of course. Ceci was always there to lend an ear, but with the time difference between Europe and Australia and her growing client base (a rumour may have gooten out about who she was friends with), it made it difficult to get her for any long periods of time. 

Kit should be on top of the world. She had won two of the three races since Italy. The one she didn’t win, she came second. Max had DNFed in that race, and luckily their explosive fight masked any correlation in the press. It hadn’t been a bad crash, just Max doing as Max does, but her heart had still jumped in her throat when she heard that the safety car was because of him. 

Max had fallen behind the championship, and Lewis had taken the lead. There were 6 races to go, but Max was more of an afterthought now that a serious competitor when the championship was discussed. He was 43 points behind Kit. Lewis was only 2 in front. Even if Max had nothing to say to her, Helmut and Jos couldn’t have been more different. Snide remarks after races, passive aggressive comments, blatant sexism, you name it, they said it. Quietly, of course, and in a way that couldn’t be overtly construed as inappropriate. Something that, were she to expose it she would sound like the boy crying wolf. 

She’d lost popularity too. Her underdog status wasn’t enough to keep her afloat, and other than Australians, women, and seriouslt diehard RedBull fans, she had lost favour with the public. Erratic, violent, arrogant. She didn’t open her phone except for work emails, texts, and calls. Olive told her when she might get asked a question about something, but other than that, she didn’t want to know. 

Kit was actually beginning to crave the rage that used to spark so easily. She’d gone back to her old, unbothered self, but she knew it wasn’t for the right reasons. She wasn’t unbothered because of self confidence, she was unbothered because she was numb. Wins felt empty when the glares and mutterings of Max’s inner circle overshadowed the applause. She no longer saw him as a part of her life, a part of her future. She’d given up on him, essentially. It was good for her, and bad for him. That should’ve made her happy, but it didn’t. 

The only reminant of their old passionate rivalry was the small leap in her spirits when she got out of the car and spied the huge leaderboard, one that was more of a relic of the past than an actual useful source of information. Seeing KEL above VER, no matter the space between the names, never failed to give her one second of pride, even if it was overshadowed by sadness. Old habits died hard, she supposed. And every once in a while, in the media pen or in meetings, her and Max would hold their eye contact for just a moment too long, and she felt as though he was trying to tell her something. But then he would look away, and the feeling evaporated. 

Only six races to go , she told herself. Next season wasn’t on her mind. She had a two year contract, she knew that. But if she could just get through this season, it would all be okay. Somehow. 

Max was on the verge. Of what, he wasn’t sure. He hated himself, he hated his dad, he hated Helmut. He wanted to hate Kit. He wanted to funnel all of his rage towards her, put it into the wheels of his car to propel him back within sights of the championship, but he couldn’t. The more his dad tried to motivate him, the less he wanted the win. It was the first time in his life he’d yearned for something that wasn’t a championship. That was what he hated the most. 

He’d thought Italy would’ve been just like every other race. He’d piss off Kit, she’d yell at him for a bit, he’d somehow get her to forgive him, and it would’ve been fine. She’d still be here. But he went too far this time. Listened to too many of Helmut’s ideas, and not diluted them with his own common sense. He wished he’d just apologised. He thought about their fight in the paddock every day, replayed it over and over to see where he could’ve fixed things. At that point it was too late, he knew that, and she knew it too. 

It had been nearly three weeks, and he’d spent every moment not in the car or the sim or garage thinking about how to make this right. And because it was so impossible, a goal so out of his reach, he was spending every waking moment working. He knew he was getting worse, he wasn’t an idiot. He dropped from 4 behind Kit to 43, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. There was nobody he wanted to win for now. 

That was what hurt him most of all, he realised one sleepless night. Before, well, before Abu Dhabi last year, he guessed, he wanted to beat her because he knew that she was a real challenge. It wasn’t like beating Pierre. It was like beating Daniel. It mattered. And after Abu Dhabi, he wanted to prove something to her. Impress her. Show her that he was worth something. Now, it didn’t matter. When he was in the car, it still felt like he was pushing to his limits, but that was just the issue. He wasn’t pushing beyond them. 

This weekend had to be different. He needed a podium, if not a win. In his current form, he didn’t think he could beat both Kit and Lewis, but he was at least going to try. He’d lost that burning desire to win, the fire that would light in his belly before a race. This was motivated from a clinical position of necessity. He didn’t have to win, he’d somewhat come to terms with that, at least internally, but he couldn’t get left in the dust. 

He knew when he looked back on this year in five, ten, fifteen years, he wouldn’t remember his current emotions in vivid detail, but the standings would always be set in stone. It might be harder to forgive himself for a shitty second half of the season when he couldn’t feel his heart clenching every time he saw his team mate, every time Helmut or Jos said something disgusting about her. He’d stopped defending her verbally, because it wasn’t going to change anything. 

Qualifying had gone well, Lewis on pole, Kit second, Max third. He could just maintain his position and it would be a huge improvement. His hotel room was white and absent of a discernible temperature. It was still, sterile, lonely. As he had gotten into the habit of doing when he came back from the track (as late as possible), he stood under a hot jet of water for what could’ve been an hour, trying not to think. He wondered if Kit was doing the same, or if it was a pleasure not having to think about him. 

Starting from P2 with the speed of Kit’s car and the benefit of DRS was like giving a high school sprinter a headstart on Usain Bolt. Max clearly found it equally as easy to overtake Hamilton, because they remained P1-P2 for the rest of the rest. He was pushing her, which she was pleased to see, but not enough. She wasn’t having to push herself as a result, and the win felt empty. Surprise, surprise. 

“Another win, Kit, you are on fire, and back as the championship lead.” Hugh said cheerfully over the radio. 

“Really good job today guys, good team result.” Kit replied, trying to sound equally as happy. When she got out of the car, she made a beeline for Olive, getting congratulated by all her engineers before heading over to Christian. 

“Good drive Kit, textbook stuff.” Christian’s crows feet gathered in the corners of his eyes. 

“Thanks mate.” Kit said under her helmet. Helmut was right next to Christian, and he remained silent, his eyes cold above his mask. Max was talking to GP, and she brushed past that whole half of the team to get ready for her podium interview. 

“Lewis, started on pole, ended P3, how are you feeling?” David Coulthard’s voice boomed through the empty grandstands, for the benefit of TV alone. 

“Not the best race for us man, but probably the best result we could’ve achieved today. The RedBulls have been fast on this circuit all weekend in terms of race pace, and, I mean, you saw the overtakes, it was like they weren’t even trying.”

“You’re back in second in the championship, it’s clearly gonna be a tight one this year, how are you and the team preparing for that?” 

“Just gotta drive the best we can every week, you know? We’ll go back tonight, have a look at what worked, what didn’t, and just see how we can get better. As you said, it’s so so tight between us and RedBull, so, yeah, just gotta try and keep it tight.” 

“Thank you very much, for that Lewis, and well done today.” 

Lewis nodded, and handed his microphone to Max, giving him a small pat on the back as he did so. 

“Max, P2 today, first podium since Spain, how’s it feeling?” 

Max fidgeted with the brim of his cap. “Pretty good, the car was excellent today, it felt good, and yeah, nice to get back in the mix.” 

“Not to keep beating a dead horse, but today has been the first opportunity for you to be racing closely with Kit since Italy, and it felt like you didn’t really take advantage of that. Was it something with the car, something the team said?” 

Max’s eyes flicked over to Kit’s, and they didn’t leave. She smiled under her mask at him, and she didn’t really know why. 

“It definitely wasn’t team orders, I can say that for sure. Kit was just on fire today, as she has been for the past few races, and yeah, couldn’t keep up.” Max shrugged. 

“We have seen your racing style alter slightly since the crash with Kit in Italy though, is there a particular reason for that?” David pressed. Max’s eyes turned dark. 

“No, and I haven’t felt my racing style change. Obviously my performance has dropped, but hey, shit like that happens, you know.” 

“Alright, well, thank you so much for speaking with us today.” 

Kit walked towards Max and took the microphone from him. His other hand came around to give her a squeeze on the shoulder, and his eyes lightened very slightly. She despised the shot of warmth that arced through her.  

“Kit, another day, another win, how did you feel out there today?” David said gleefully. 

“Yeah, pretty good. The car felt fantastic, thanks to everybody’s work here this weekend and all year at the factory. Um, yeah, it was pretty smooth sailing to be honest, I probably would’ve liked a bit more of a fight.” She smiled half-heartedtley. 

“You’re back in the lead of the championship, does that put more or less pressure on you going into the next race?” 

“Because it’s so close, it doesn’t make much of a difference, really. There’s been championship pressure nearly all year, ever since we saw what the car could do, so it’s just gonna be the same as usual, I think.” 

“And when you say championship pressure, was that on you or Max? Because now it seems as though you’re the clear front runner, despite what many people thought differently at the beginning of the year.” 

Kit’s stare was on the borderline of becoming a glare. “Pressure for the team result.” 

“Right, thanks for your time today, I’ll let you get to the podium.” David said awkwardly. 

The cool down room was quiet, a space she hadn’t shared with Max in a while. She couldn’t exactly avoid speaking to him, but she didn’t know what to say. 

“Hey, mate, good job today.” Lewis said, giving her a nod as they weren’t really supposed to touch now that they were in an enclosed space. 

“Thanks, you too, of course. Gave me a bit of trouble there.” 

“Pff,” Lewis huffed, “no I didn’t.” 

Kit laughed, and it was almost genuine. “Okay, maybe not that much trouble.” Her eyes fell to rest on Max, but his eyes were trained on the large TV screen that took up an entire wall, playing a replay of his car following hers. It could’ve been from any lap in the race, they all felt identical. 

“Glad you’re back on the podium.” Kit said, kicking Max’s leg from where she was standing. 

“Mm? Really?” Max said, not looking at her. She didn’t even feel mad. Honestly, she was a bit relieved. 

“Yep.” She replied. Finally they were taken to the podium, and their awkward stand off could end. The national anthems played, she drank a bit of champagne, she left. The engineering meeting was short, after all, today was basically an exhibition of how fast their car was. 

“You want the highlight reel?” Olive asked as Kit drove them back to the hotel. Every day, the highlight reel was the meanest thing Olive could find about her, along with the funniest and the nicest. It was slightly masochistic, but it made Kit feel better. 

“Hit me.” 

“Okay, meanest. ‘There’s no way Kit Kelly isn’t sucking some serious Horner dick. They’ve got to have given her the better car after Italy as some kind of peace arrangement. There’s just no way Max could be this far behind, like, logically.” 

“Damn.” Kit whistled. 

“Funniest, was, ‘kit kelly is stronger than me because if i had to listen to helmut marko grumbling his little comments 24/7 i would be committed for elder abuse.’”

“Nice, nice.” Kit smiled.

“Okay, last one, nicest, ‘all the hate on kit kelly is like a fucking witch trial, if she wins, well obviously she was getting an advantage from the team, right?? and if she loses, well, we all knew she didn’t have it in her anyway. like let the girl fucking live.’”

“Good day.” Kit nodded. 

“Some good content for your rivalry pages too.” Olive said quietly. 

“Oh yeah?” Kit asked as she turned into the driveway of the hotel, handing the keys to a valet. 

“Good eye contact, the whole cool down room thing, storming off the podium-”

“I stormed?” Kit interrupted her. 

“No, Max.” 

“Ah, okay, good.” Kit replied. After a beat of silence, she said, “Do you have the video?” 

Olive chortled. “I have your every move stalked from the second you both got out of the cars. Of course I have the video.”

“Legend. You know I’m seriously gonna talk to Christian about hiring you privately, I never want another PR girl ever again.”

“I’d be like your right hand man, right? Like not just PR.” Olive said hopefully. 

“Duh. Hence the hefty pay increase.” Kit winked. They were in the elevator now, both staying on the same floor the doors opened to let them out, and Kit followed Olive to her room, despite her own being in the other direction. “Has Max said any, you know, Max like things today? He was pretty tame in the press conference.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot to tell you about that.” Olive cursed at herself.

“About what?” Kit didn’t notice anything off about it.