Work Text:
Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Max still couldn't quite believe it. In fact, after the race, he had assumed that he would still need one point to win the World Championship, even after Charles had been fined and lost his second place to Checo. And even when he was called back again to be told that he was World Champion – and the graphic appeared behind him on the screen – he still didn't believe it, after all, they didn't actually drive enough of the race to award full points.
Charles, Checo, and everyone else in the Cool Down Room could certainly see the confusion when he was again told that he had really won. And when Jenson Button made it to the podium, he finally realised that it was almost impossible for the FIA to make such a big mistake in the points distribution. He had really won the world championship for the second time in a row.
And surprisingly, he wasn't as happy as he might have expected.
Sure, he was glad, very glad even, but still, there was a pressing feeling in his stomach. Somehow he had hoped his victory would be delayed a few more races. Not that he would purposely drive badly to achieve that, he would never do that, as one had noticed today, but now, he had the feeling that the season was almost over. He wouldn't even have to show up for the races anymore. His season was over, objectively speaking in the most positive sense that there was in Formula One. But Max couldn't hide the fact that the current season was Daniel's last.
Because to be honest, Daniel would hardly return after a sabbatical. He didn't have the big name like an Alonso or Schumacher, and for that, his talent had been overshadowed by the two years at McLaren. Max didn't know Formula One without Daniel – and he didn't want to know it either if he was being honest. Daniel had always been by his side. On his debut with a handshake and wink, on his first win with a hug, and on his fourth win finally with their first kiss. And from then on, Daniel had never left him alone, even off track.
Max wasn't willing to let it all go, not create new memories with Daniel. No more joint podiums, no more interviews, no driver parades. Daniel was the person he could always go to when he felt lost, which was also based on mutuality. Who would he go to in the future?
Lando would certainly always be there for him, but to be honest, he probably didn't give the best advice. At least the Briton was good at listening and hugging in case of need.
Checo and Nando would be a good choice in terms of advice, but Max still couldn't fully open up to them. On a professional and personal level, he liked the two, but he would not come to them with private problems.
With Carlos, he had entered Formula 1, and he really liked the Spaniard but there had never been any really deep conversations between them outside parties in a larger, drunken circle. In general, he felt that Carlos got along very well with all the drivers but chose very carefully with whom he would talk about more than Formula One. As his teammate back in the day, Max had not really managed to get Carlos to confide in him properly at that time, which had not changed in recent years when they had spent less time together in principle. Max admired how quickly Lando got there, that Carlos was obviously able to trust him.
So, in summary, he didn't really have anyone. Of course, he could always call Daniel, but it wasn't the same. He had never been a fan of change, but this one left a particularly weird feeling that kept him awake at night. He even could not sleep as a freshly baked two-time world champion in an overpriced hotel bed.
"Jeepers, have you still not had enough to drink?"
Caught, Max turned to his side to look at Daniel. The Australian had frowned anxiously and seemed to have seen him through in spite of the joking words.
"I can't sleep," Max muttered, whereupon Daniel snorted, "No shit."
The Dutchman immediately rolled his eyes and sat up, pulling his legs to his chest. A self-protective attitude Daniel knew only too well. He slipped closer to his boyfriend until he could lay his chin on his knee and look Max in the eye.
"What's going on, baby?" Lovingly, he laid his hands on Max's cheek, who did not resist when he pulled him in for a short kiss.
"I don't want everything to change between us," he admitted quietly, ignoring Daniel's brow furrowing again. He noticed that his boyfriend was already trying to answer and quickly said, "You said you wanted to stay in Monaco and continue to come to races with me, but what if it gets too boring for you? I mean, your whole family is in Australia, and I can really understand you want to see them, but I'm not ready to let you go. Is that selfish? It feels selfish."
"Max." Shocked by the young man's outburst of emotion, he straightened up and swallowed heavily. The words hit him harder and more painful than anything he had expected when he realised Max was struggling with something. Max immediately took advantage of the fact that Daniel no longer touched him and wrapped his arms tightly around his legs. How could he not have noticed that he was in such a bad situation?
"Max," he repeated in a firmer voice, placing one hand on Max's forearm. "Max, why would you think I would rather be with my family permanently than with you?"
"Because you haven't had them around for so long, but I'm always there. And you always miss Australia the moment you're on a plane to Europe. It's just your home. I can't offer you that," Max continued and received a decisive shake of his head from Daniel's side.
"Maybe Monaco isn't my home country and maybe you can't give me the same feeling as my parents – fortunately because then some things would be very wrong with me if I felt that way about you after everything we've done together," Daniel said, making him laugh at least before he continued more seriously, "Well, yes, I miss my home, but I can't go back without my safe place, Max. Without my safe place, I don't feel comfortable anywhere because it's the most important thing in my life."
These words brought tears to his eyes, and he let Daniel pull him straight into a firm embrace, burying his face in his shoulder. Of course, he understood what Daniel meant by his words, and it instantly made him feel better. Not necessarily completely worry-free, but definitely better.
"But you promise me you'll tell me if something's bothering you?" he asked again confidently. "I'd move to Australia with you."
Laughing, Daniel ran through his hair and then pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Yes, I promise. Although now I'm a little willing to find out how you connect living in Australia with Formula One."
"I'll end my career," Max grumbled, and Daniel stilled immediately.
"What?"
"Daniel, I would end my career for you without hesitation. I don't know if I want to race without you anyway. Besides, I'm already a two-time world champion, what more could you want?" Shrugging his shoulders, he chewed on his lip as Daniel's eyes softened.
"I really appreciate that, but it's not going to come to that because you're going to continue to enjoy racing," the older man breathed. "And you have so much more to achieve. You still have so many records to break."
Once again, Daniel put his hands on Max's cheeks and smiled tenderly, "And I will be by your side every single milestone. You don't have to be afraid of change, Max. Nothing will change between us. I've always been by your side, and I'll always be by your side."
For a few moments, Max just looked at his boyfriend's face, then he finally leaned forward and smashed their lips in a kiss which he poured all his gratitude into.
At that moment, he was more than sure that Daniel would also be by his side when he became the world champion for the third time. And he hadn't felt that good in a while.
Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Pierre was furious. Not just a little angry, no, furious. He expected a lot from the FIA, really. They always behaved wrong in some way, but sending a tractor and marshals on track while there were still racing cars there – and then in Suzuka of all places – was a whole new league. It was mad.
At first, he was just shocked, the next moment he had freaked out, and after the race, when the adrenaline was slowly dropping, he was shaking all over his body. Of course, he didn't miss Pyry's anxious look as he carefully packed his backpack, after almost all the things he had wanted to take before, had fallen out of his hands.
He gladly took responsibility for driving too fast, but he did not accept being blamed for the incident. As Carlos had already said, if the FIA wanted to red-flag the race anyway, they could have waited for the lap to end before sending a tractor and people out. It had been total madness to even start the race in the first place.
Carlos had only gotten away with his crash because he didn't land directly on the racing line, Alex was also lucky that there weren't so many cars behind him anyway, and Pierre didn't even want to start with himself. It was negligent to start the race with such poor visibility, and actually, he didn't want to think about what could have happened. Unfortunately, he couldn't really stop it.
"Pierre," his coach now snatched him out of his thoughts in a calm voice. The Frenchman had been struggling with the zipper of his backpack for a few moments and was unable to close it due to the trembling. "Let me do it."
Without resistance, Pierre left this task to him and preferred to sit down on the sofa. Exhausted, he buried his hands in his hair.
"Do you need anything?" Pyry wanted to know, whereupon he sighed, "The sleeping pills and a little distance from everything should help."
For years, Pierre was repeatedly disturbed by sleeping problems, which is why he always had sleeping pills with him on race weekends. In his spare time, it wasn't a problem when he didn't sleep enough, but he had once made the mistake of getting into the race car after a short night and had hardly been able to concentrate. Since then, he had been taking light sleeping pills, which helped him sleep through the night but did not completely knock him out. On days like today, he was especially grateful for it.
"Okay. Then let's get out of here," Pyry agreed, and Pierre was about to get up when the door opened, and Charles stormed in breathlessly.
"Charly." Surprised, he looked at his best friend, whom he hadn't seen that disturbed in a long time. "We were just about to leave."
"I have to talk to you," the Monegasque burst out, who turned to Pyry with a telling look. Pierre's coach nodded after a short hesitation and made sure, "How are you getting to the hotel later?"
"I'll get us a taxi." He was satisfied with Charles' answer and left them alone, whereupon Charles immediately bridged the distance between them. Pierre was expecting a lot. A hug maybe, damn it, even a slap would have been less unexpected than the soft lips that suddenly just pressed against his.
Surprised, Pierre widened his eyes. Maybe it was just an accident and Charles didn't actually want to kiss him, but his hands – one on his chin, to make the angle less weird since Pierre was still sitting while Charles stood in front of him, and the other twisted in his shirt - said something else. Apart from the fact that the kiss had lasted for several seconds now and Charles still hadn't pulled back.
So he slowly allowed himself to enjoy it. He hesitantly responded to the pressure, still not quite sure if this was the reality or if he had crashed into the tractor and was now in a coma. But it all felt way too real for that. Charles really kissed him. After months of longing, his dream just came true.
But at some point, Pierre had to stop the kiss because he needed answers to so many questions. The sad whine that left Charles' lips almost broke his heart, so he first pulled him on his lap and then kissed him briefly again. The younger one immediately pressed even closer to him, leaning their foreheads together.
"Charles," he whispered, raising a hand to put it around his neck. "What...was that?"
"I can't keep kissing other people and pretend they are you," was the answer, which gave him goosebumps. "Pierre, I could have lost you today. Just like I lost Jules. And my father. And-"
"Charles," he whispered to stop his choked words."I'm right here."
Charles closed his eyes and buried both hands in Pierre's hair as he pressed his forehead even closer to his. "You are the most important person in my life. I can't lose you. Please, Pierre," he wailed.
Pierre didn't know exactly what his best friend was begging for, but he knew he would do anything to satisfy every wish. So he decided to show Charles that he hadn't lost him today – neither by the tractor incident nor by the kiss – and kissed him once more, which lasted until he tasted something salty and broke away from Charles again.
The Monegasque trembled – just like he did before – but he did not cry.
"P-Pierre," he whispered with wide eyes, and then he realised it was him who was crying.
"I think it was all a bit much for me today," he laughed softly and let Charles wipe away his tears.
"Do you want to fly away with me?" asked the younger, whereupon he nodded without hesitation. Again, they sank into a kiss that made all words superfluous. They would still have to talk about what that meant to them but that was just enough. It was enough that they were together now and were doing well according to the circumstances.
The next time they broke the kiss, they both smiled, and Pierre took the time to absorb the sight in front of him. Charles, who looked at him so differently, so lovingly, and suddenly seemed much calmer. Charles, who has been more than just his best friend for half an eternity. Charles, who obviously reciprocated his feelings.
"I would follow you anywhere, Charles."