Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Mad Max.

It was a nickname the Dutch driver had picked up rather early in his career, and it wasn’t like he’d done anything to counter it. In fact, it could be argued that he had perpetuated the narrative. 

And in the meeting where the FIA, in their campaign to make the sport more ‘family friendly’ and ‘appealing to children’, decided that the drivers needed to be marketed as one happy family, his name was brought up rather a lot. 45 times, in fact. In a half hour meeting. (Yet another record for Max…)

With every other driver they could find some way to twist the narrative. Could find some way to fit them into the fucked-up family dynamic that they were trying to create. (Because honestly, half those people had something going on in their time as teammates and now you want to push them as a family? Really?) But Max? With all the effort that the FIA and Sky Sports and the like had put into demonizing him all those years prior? Oh nooo… this wasn’t going to work very well. 

Naturally, there was much laughter in the driver meeting when this was announced. Well, there was a snicker at the time but once Max had left (the moment the meeting ended, never staying a second longer to socialize like the other drivers did) then the true laughter rolled out. Now I want to clarify that this wasn’t cruel laughter. More just… the idea of Max playing happy family just seemed so ridiculous to the drivers that they couldn’t help but laugh. (Not all the drivers were here. The rookies had gathered in a smaller group just out of earshot and Carlos and Lando were bickering in the corner).

“Oh mon Dieu, they actually think Max will be nice with us? That he will be playing… happy families?” Pierre managed through half-stifled laughter, a teasing smirk tugging on the edges of his mouth. 

George was soon wearing a matching grin, “Oh gosh, imagine if we have to do one of those promos over Christmas. Matching Christmas jumper photoshoot or something. He’d walk right off!” 

“Walk off?” Lando piped up from the corner, abandoning his bickering with Carlos for a moment. “Nah, mate. He wouldn’t even turn up. You're gonna have one empty seat, and everyone pretending not to notice.”

And didn’t that just set them all off into peals of laughter. Even Lewis, who was normally above that kind of gossiping, was smiling. “Red Bull’s been trying to soften his image for years. I’m not sure a family campaign is the way to do it.”

Esteban raised a brow. “Maybe he surprises us.”

There was a long moment of silence as everyone just bit their lips, desperately trying not the be the first to start giggling again.

“Come on,” Pierre wheezed, “And I’m not just saying this to argue with you, but when have you ever seen Max be - how do you say - familial? Family-like? A team player!”

“He’s not unpleasant,” Alex defended half-heartedly. Even though he was no longer part of Red Bull he had still worked with Max for a little bit, and there was a tiny bit of lingering loyalty to the man who had once been his teammate. “He just… doesn’t play well outside of work. I can’t say anything bad about him as a teammate but outside of that? He just sort of… goes home?”

“And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, And vanish’d from our sight,” George sighed, and Lewis even clapped a bit at that one.

Charles stayed quiet, just listening. (George turned to Alex and very smugly muttered “That was Hamlet you know? Act 1, Scene 1. I loved reading that in school.” A very confused  Lando turned to Carlos and - in full seriousness - muttered, “Why’s he reading omelets?". Carlos sighed loudly.) The rest of the drivers just kept talking.

“Remember in Austin? They brought us all together for- what was it? Oh yeah that kids’ pit lane walk thing. Max lasted… five minutes? Then poof. All gone!”

“I think he had to do a sim race?” someone offered but that just brought more rounds of laughter.

“He always has to do a sim race,” George grumbled. “That’s his excuse for everything. Doesn’t want to come to dinner? Sim race. Doesn’t want to stay for drinks? Sim race. I’m pretty sure if the FIA asked him to attend his own wedding, he’d be like- sorry, can’t, sim race.”

“Do we even know he does them, though?” Pierre asked suddenly, huffing a laugh. “I mean, yeah, there’s the whole Team Redline thing, but do we ever see him on stream? Like properly, not just the results after?”

“Well- no, but-” Alex began, then faltered.

“I mean he doesn’t really livestream most of his streaming…” George admitted slowly. “He never uses a facecam. It’s just… his name on the results. That could be anyone driving, honestly.”

Pierre’s eyes went wide. “Merde! What if he doesn’t even sim race? What if it’s all a cover?”

Someone ended up almost doubled over in laughter at that.

“No, no, listen!” Pierre pressed, gesturing wildly and almost taking out Charles with a swipe to the head. “Think about it! We never see him out with us. Never see him out at the clubs or dinners or anything else. Everyone just assumes he’s at home on the simulator. What if- what if he’s doing something else entirely?”

“Like what?” Esteban challenged, glancing outside to where Max had long vanished. 

That was all the invitation Lando needed. “Crocheting,” he loudly called over.

And how the drivers howled at that.

“Can you imagine?” Lando continued between giggles. “Max Verstappen, four-time world champion, goes home after winning and sits down to crochet a scarf.”

“Better,” George added, laughing so hard he was struggling to get his breaths in, “He sells them on Etsy. Secretly makes more money on that than on his contract.”

“No, no, no,” Pierre gasped, again barely able to get the words out through laughter, “he doesn’t sell them - he gives them as gifts, but only to strangers! You open your post one day and boom! Hand-knitted Verstappen beanie. No explanation. And you never find out that it was Verstappen!”

Lewis chuckled at that, shaking his head. “That’s certainly an idea.”

“Fine,” Alex said, playing along. “If not crochet, then what? Cooking classes? Ballet? Stamp collecting?”

“Ballet!” Lando’s eyes lit up, “That’s it! That’s why his core strength is so good. Secret ballerina!”

“Oi,” Carlos finally chimed in to elbow Lando in the side. “Do not laugh. Ballet training is very good for balance. My cousin did it. If Max does do ballet then you could learn something from that.” (And Carlos wasn’t quite laughing like the rest of them were. In fact, he seemed vaguely offended. Not that any of the drivers noticed. But he was looking uncomfortable nonetheless.)

No one seemed to pay Carlos much attention though - the image of Max pirouetting in tights popping up on their minds every second and being far too much to take seriously.

“Alright, alright,” George said, wiping his eyes. “We’ll stop teasing him. But seriously. Does anyone actually know what he does? Like outside of racing and more racing and sim racing?”

A pause followed. The kind of pause that stretched, and became slightly more uncomfortable as it stretched longer. The gathered drivers all glanced at each other, waiting for someone to speak up and not wanting to be the one to do so.

“I mean,” Esteban started slowly, “I know he has his cats.”

“Yes!” Pierre agreed, perking up slightly. “You think that that’s the narrative the FIA will take? Cat dad?”

“Eugh maybe,” George added skeptically. “That is sort of Alex though, with his zoo at home and everything so… I don’t know.”

Silence again.

"He doesn’t post anything,” Lance blurted out, finally done pretending that he wasn’t listening into the conversation. “No food pictures, no travel pictures, no- well, nothing except those alpha tauri ads and racing! Half the time I don’t even think he has his phone on him.”

“Exactly!” someone in the group exclaimed. “He just races and vanishes! How on earth are we supposed to be family with that? There’s no way to spin that narrative!”

“Maybe he’s just really boring,” Lando hummed. “Maybe all he does is sit at home and watch TV. EastEnders or something.”

“Dutch soaps,” George suggested.

The laughter continued but everyone was awkwardly glancing at each other a bit more.

They could list off each other’s hobbies easily. They always knew what everyone else was up to even when they weren’t racing. But Max?

“Sim racing,” someone muttered again, weaker now.

It was the best answer they had for what Max did in his spare time. The only answer. Some of them had know Max for most of their lives, yet they barely even knew his favourite colour. 

They knew Mad Max. 

Because as far as they were concerned - as far as anyone was concerned - Max was a racing robot. He didn’t give a shit about anything other than racing, didn’t care for family or friends.

So none of them bothered to try. 

And Max stayed that arrogant, mean, untouchable driver everyone thought him to be.

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The drivers didn’t really make any attempt to bond with Max as the season progressed though. It was fine when Lando was in the title fight with Max in the first half - with the fun bickering on track and in the media - but as Max pulled out ahead the other drivers seemed to lose interest in him once again. 

It seemed that Max was only interesting to them when they were beating him. More of a prize to win than a friend to make. After all, the driver who beat Verstappen would be far more remembered than the driver who was friends with Max. (Or at least, that was what everyone told themselves as they made the group chats without him, as they threw parties and celebrations and just… forgot… to invite him, as they laughed to the media about him. The only driver to not be part of the family, they told the reporters, the only driver too difficult to cooperate with the FIA, the only driver who makes the sport unwatchable for kids.

Well, they didn’t exactly say it to his face but… it was very clear that they still saw Max as Mad Max. That they saw him as a competitor and nothing else. That they didn’t even entertain the possibility of him being a friend. 

And so naturally when late February rolled around the new drive to survive was uploaded on Netflix, the drivers all gathered in Monaco in Hamilton’s apartment (and yes, they knew that Max would have the nicest apartment but that would mean talking to Max and none of them wanted to do that) to watch the new series that Netflix had kindly Sir Lewis Hamilton early access to.

Max had access to the series early too, but no one knew that as everyone just assumed that Netflix hated him too much to ever do something like that. 

As it happened, Ollie and Kimi and Gabi and Fernando and even Carlos had gathered with Max to watch the episodes. They actually watched the episodes a day earlier than Lewis and the rest of the drivers - a fact that Fernando was infinitely smug about. The head of the drive to survive production had personally sent Max an email asking him to review the episodes and send a message back if it was ‘too open’. Max had almost done so but Carlos managed to convince him otherwise. And so it was that collection of fun episodes that the drivers were about to watch.

(But Max and his group got to watch it first!)

The first episode had no Max in it. The drivers weren’t expecting Max to be in any of the episodes, but the first episode was particularly obvious in how it contained every driver except Max. 

The Netflix logo pulsed red across Lewis’ enormous flat-screen, the distinctive sound booking around the room. A low hum of anticipation filled the room as the gathered drivers made themselves comfortable while Lewis frantically clicked down the volume a few times. Everyone had done their best to get comfy, but with fifteen drivers even the largest of rooms would seem small, especially when everyone was still in that not-quite-college-but-not-quite-friend state. You had to find the perfect place to sit between two people that wasn’t too close to either, but you also couldn’t sit on the floor at their feet as no-one's pride would let them do that.

Ollie and Kimi and Gabi were on top of Max on the floor when they watched the episodes, Max being reclined against Fernando’s legs as the older man relaxed on the sofa. Carlos was off to the side but only because he was in charge of supplying the group with snacks so no one had to move and disrupt the bundle. 

They had initially started together on the sofa, but at some point Max (wanting to be closer to his cats) had moved to the floor and the rookies couldn’t bear to be apart from him… hence the pile on the floor. 

Bundles of snacks were on the table - Max had carefully got everyone's favorites - and blankets had been piled around the room. There was laughter and a warm meal cooking in the oven and far too many pints of ice-cream in the freezer.

In the larger driver group, several of them already had phones out, ready to take videos of the embarrassing moments that surely would be there from other drivers. 

It was supposed to be a fun bit of colleague bonding. A little ego-stroking, if you will. Everyone and their mother knew that Drive To Survive was going to exaggerate. It was Netflix, of course they knew how to make good TV, so everything seen was going to be heavily gossiped until people realised where the clips were actually from (Netflix had actually decided to pivot the different route this year. It was to be more genuine, more discrete. They wanted to show the world the drivers in their natural habitat, if you will. It was just unfortunate that this decision was happening at the same time the FIA decided to introduce one of the biggest PR pushes in living memory. Ah well…)

The drivers began to realise what had happened as the introduction faded and the clips began to show. 

The first thirty seconds were excruciating to watch.

Sitcom-like music played. It was just the right side of annoying, like the theme tune for It’s A Small World, or those songs in an animated show for toddlers. There are just a few clips of drivers, not quite long enough for anyone to recognise what was going on in each video, before the screen faded to a park somewhere. Given the first race of the season was in Australia, it would be a reasonable guess to assume that was where the bench was. The giant spider that scuttled across the nearby bath was also a very subtle hint. 

Fortunately, Esteban and Pierre didn’t notice the spider. Unfortunately, it was because they were stiffly staring forwards into the camera looking every bit like they didn’t want to be there. With their matching shirts and sour smiles, a subtitle appeared on the screen.

‘Brothers Pierre and Esteban enjoy a visit to the park before the start of the season!’

There was then a very awkward couple of minutes as Pierre and Esteban desperately tried to act like there were no cameras there, and that this was totally a candid moment of drivers being buddy-buddy-family whilst also very clearly despising each other. 

Each of their laughs came through the speakers hollow, their voices a little too loud, like they’d been asked to ‘laugh naturally’ by the cameraman at least a fifteen times before that point before the cameraman was satisfied (bored enough that he gave up and decided that it was good enough).

Back in Lewis’ apartment, Esteban groaned. “Merde, this looks so much worse than it was to film. Almost wanted to punch him just to create some narrative other than that shitty family thing.”

“Shhh,” George hissed, throwing a pillow over to hit Esteban in the shoulder, “Let me watch you be embarrassed in peace!”

On screen, Lewis himself appeared, hurrying down into the Ferrari motorhome with a vaguely horrified glance at the camera. To his great relief, Daniel (Ricciardo) just happened to be moving around the paddock. No one knew why he was here. He wasn’t supposed to be here, given the worried looks that the production team was exchanging. 

With a grin at the camera and a subtitle pop-up of ‘Daniel Ricciardo - Full Time Big Brother’ the retired driver vanished into the distance with a whoop and a holler and the sound of a crying PR team in the background. 

Lewis pinched his nose with a sigh, not realising that Daniel was why the cameras had stopped following him. None of the other drivers had realised that Daniel was there at all, though it should have been expected that the Australian driver would be visiting the Australian race, but still…

And yet the episode just rolled on as if nothing had happened. It seemed that the driver's appearances, where they put them in their little rooms on the chair and have them talk about events, wasn’t present. Netflix seemed to be wanting this to seem… less reality-show like? Less produced?

Max hadn’t let the others watch the episodes with him when he was checking over them, and so it was for the first time that Ollie, Kimi, Gabi, Fernando and Carlos were watching the other drivers embarrass themselves. 

They watched the drivers knowing that Max had approved of these videos (so that there wasn’t going to be anything absolutely horrific about themselves). They watched with growing amazement and humour at just how badly everyone was fucking up the family dynamics.

“I mean come on!” Carlos was incredulously laughing, his face almost twisted into horror, “of all the people you choose to start with you go with Gasly and Ocon? Who- what- why?! Of all the stupid ideas…!”

He glanced around, as if trying to see if anyone had an answer but was only met with equally confused faces. At least the rookies were getting a good giggle out of it?

“Calling them brothers as well… what has this sport come to?!” Fernando was sighing, his head shaking in faux-sadness though his twitching lips gave it away slightly.

The rookies hadn’t stopped laughing long enough to comment anything, though Gabi was managing to splutter something about the French civil war? That kid was too online and that’s Max saying something!

The next people to be shown in the episode was Oscar and Lando, their championship fight not yet even a thought in anyone's mind (and it wasn’t at the end of the season either as Max cinched his fifth win with a race to spare). 

They stood talking in the motorhome - carefully positioned to be in full view of the cameras without it seeming intentional - in matching papaya sweaters. They were happy, and laughing, and playfully arguing about what kind of coffee was best. 

The edit had a laugh track played over the top, timed perfectly to each time the boys seemed to make a joke at each other. It wasn’t outright staged but…

“Ugh we look like an ad for some shitty coffee place,” Oscar muttered in real time, hiding his face in a pillow. “I remember how much I hated doing that.”

“It’s giving boyband,” Lando nodded sadly, though he didn’t look away from the screen once, with the same sort of overwhelming horror that you feel when you gaze upon a car crash as you pass it on the road.

The FIA’s fingerprints were all over this. Netflix had promised - they'd promised! - the drivers that they would be more of a documentary than a reality show this year. The drivers thought that they were doing the videos just for the FIA social media, no one had told them that it was for Drive To Survive! If that had been the case then the drivers would have put up a far bigger fight. (Not that it would have worked though, the FIA was very insistent on this ‘happy family’ narrative after all)

“I mean that’s not so bad?” Carlos offered up, wincing slightly the moment that Lando appeared on the screen.

“Better than I was expecting with Papaya rules in this season and all that shit that McLaren caused” Fernando huffed, still not impressed with McLaren all these years later.

“...It was initially a bit more awkward but I felt a bit sorry for Oscar and asked them to cut the section down a bit,” Max explained as Kimi ended his cackling and flopped down next to Max, cuddling into his side like a particularly possessive cat.

George and Alex were next, the first two who were not current or ex-teammates in F1.

This was also the first time that the video hadn’t been outrightly staged.

The pair were in an arcade that had been cleared out for the purpose of letting the drivers have a fun day out before the start of the season. (And also so the FIA happy family narrative could start, but no one realised that at the time). Max was not in attendance. 

The camera zoomed in on a dance machine, where George and Alex were laughing away as they badly messed up the dancing, falling into each other with the balance only expected of someone who was well on their way to being blackout drunk. They end up hanging off each other more than they dance, with wandering hands lingering just slightly too long in places just slightly too low. The camera angle quickly tried to cut that out, but the hands wondered so much that it was simply impossible to cut all of it out. 

A series of clips with people calling the pair ‘brothers’ was in the voiceover. It seemed that the editors had carefully edited the tone to remove all the sarcasm that was clearly prevalent in everyone's voices.

George buried his face in his hands. “No, no, no, why did they use that one?! I forgot that they were even filming on that day!”

“You were very bad at dancing,” Alex said flatly, desperately looking straight up in the air so he didn’t have to meet the eyes of the other drivers who were all clearly trying to hold back laughter.

“That’s not the point!” George spluttered, face turning bright red.

Across the room, Lance was actually giggling. “This is amazing! Did you seriously forget they were filming? Aw man, you’re going to get so called out here.”

There was laughter from the rest of the drivers. No one noticed that Max wasn’t anywhere in the clips. No one really said anything about Max.

“Wait, I remember that day!” Gabi grinned. (He was one of the only people to remember that day, as most of the drivers ended up just a tiny bit drunk and rather hungover).

“Yeah, I couldn’t look George in the eyes after that party,” Kimi shuddered, “Toto asked what was wrong and I had no idea how to explain it to him.”

“What you couldn’t just say you saw George and Alex and leave it at that? Surely he’d know about those by this point?” Ollie asked, his head tilting slightly like a confused puppy. Max could all but imagine little floppy ears upon his head, one sticking up and the other flopping over.

Carlos let out a loud laugh, “Toto? Notice something? No way, that man didn’t even realise Nico and Lewis were starting to fight until the media caught on. He is very… oblivious? Yes oblivious, to all of his drivers actions. He probably does not know that you are with us and not the other drivers.”

Gabi, Kimi and Ollie froze, turning to face Carlos with faces that so clearly read ‘What the fuck!?. Fernando nodded, his face solemn. 

“Si, he is very not noticing. Though he may notice what you do more than George. George was always second favourite child!” Fernando laughed, before grumbling at the light slap Max made to his leg, “Fine, fine… I will stop for now.”

There was a bit of silence as everyone settled down, but then Gabi brought up the question that Max had been dreading. 

“Max?” he asked, and after Max gave a curious hum he continued, “I didn’t notice it at the time but you were not there with us?”

Max was silent for a bit. Had he been with the other drivers they would have just kept pushing, asking why he wasn’t answering them, nudging him in the shoulder and going come on, come on, come one… but the people he was with that night just waited in quiet, finding something else to entertain themselves with as Max gathered his thoughts.

“It is not that I… I didn’t especially want to be there,” Max started, his words slow and measured, “As of course you have noticed, I don’t really get along with the other drivers? Of course there are some but most drivers do not really like me. So I asked my media people and they said that I did not have to do it. I think actually the FIA was quite happy, yes? They did not have to do the family dynamics with me, makes their jobs very easy when I am not there?”

He said this like it was perfectly normal for him to not be there to order to make the lives of others easier. Like it was his job to drive and then make his media teams life easier (though it could be argued that that was hardly something he bothered with). 

Gabi went to argue with Max but a hand on his shoulder from Fernando stopped him. 

What are you doing, Gabi’s glare seemed to say, you cannot let him continue thinking that! He is completely wrong and he cannot think like that!

Fernando's answering glance at as obvious as well. I know, his look said, but he doesn’t listen to us. We have tried, kid, but he doesn’t believe us.

Max, completely oblivious to the conversation going on but noticing that Gabi had pulled away slightly, grabbed the rookie by his collar and dragged him closer. 

“Don’t work about it Bubbles. I am used to it.”

Everyone except Max was glaring now. 

The day before the season kicked off the drivers had a meal together and a party. It was slightly awkward, as they were all eating trainer approved food and some people were slightly glaring at each other, but it was a nice meal.

Now, the drivers had been told that there would be media at the event. They’d all been briefed so that no one would say something that they were under a NDA about, or make an action that would cause their PR team so much grief… but the issue was that the drivers weren’t told that there would be FIA media AND Netflix media. And while the FIA media people had their obvious cameras and branded team shirts, the Netflix people were using their discrete cameras built into shirts and glasses and they all wore casual clothing… all this to say that the drivers were very much not acting for the Netflix cameras.

The person wearing the glasses cam was sitting at the end of the table, just a few spaces down from  the bulky camera hefted over the shoulder of the FIA media person. The lighting was too bright (for the cameras) and the food was untouched (it was just for the photos, the drivers would end up eating their trainer approved dinners and give the untouched food to the media teams) and the FIA media team kept instructing the drivers to ‘smile brighter’ and sit closer’.

The drivers followed the instructions, waiting for there to be a photo click, and then shuffling away with a slight grimace. The netflix camera captured it all, right from the view of a person being in the room with the drivers - exactly what the fans wanted from extra content of their favorite drivers.

The drivers relaxed slightly as the party continued (and the drinks began to flow) but still the FIA media kept telling them to get closer.

Lewis, at the head of the table, raised his glass in a salute. “To another great season,” he toasted, and then after a very pointed cough from the FIA media person 

(I’m going to call them Fiona, Izzy and Matthew - the three media people. Matthew was the one with the camera and Fiona and Izzy were nudging the drivers in the direction the FIA wanted… and they totally haven't just been given names because I’m bored of writing ‘FIA media person’…)

he added, “...and to a wonderful season as a family.” 

There was an approved nod from Fiona as Matthew drew his camera back slightly to get the entire table of drivers in. The camera stopped that recording just in time for Lewis’s annoyed sigh to not be included. The Netflix camera caught it.

Back in Hamilton’s house, everyone who had been teasing George and Alex about not noticing the cameras suddenly shut up as they realised that they’d been looking at the wrong cameras all season…

The cutaway interviews began on screen as the drivers in the present stewed in slowly-dawning horrified realisation.

Esteban, completely straight-faced, “We are all like brothers. Like cousins. Like- uh… family!” 

Pierre, with an awkward pause and then forced smile,“Yes, as… Estie… said. We are one big family.” 

Ollie with a smile that was just that little bit too genuine, “Yeah I mean it’s been like having a bunch of brothers and- yeah so many older brothers!”

George, his smile just that little bit too wide to be genuine as he tried to figure out a way to not outrightly lie, “We… certainly support each other on and off track. Always.” 

Carlos was glancing at someone offscreen who was saying something so funny that the camera was shaking slightly from the laughter of the person behind it, “We look out for each other. It’s been a lot better now than it used to, much closer to everyone else. I look out for my brothers…  and their grid kids!” The sound of many people laughing faded out alongside Carlos’s interview as an unknown figure tackled the Williams driver to the floor with an embarrassed shout of ‘not my grid kids!’ in Spanish.

Lando, snorting as he obviously read something off a teleprompter, “I know I can always rely on the other drivers for anything. All of them, for anything.”

The camera lingered a little too long on Lando’s face, as if even the editor couldn’t pretend his sarcasm wasn’t obvious.

Back in Lewis’ apartment, there were peals of laughter.

“Oh my god, this is so bad!” Esteban choked out, shoving his face into his hands, trying to hide away from the giggles.

“It looks like Netflix is mocking the family thing,” Charles groaned, being the only one to actually verbalise what they were all thinking.

“Carlos!” Max sighed, “I of course thought you had finished filming when I ran in! I didn’t get them to cut it out as you cannot see my face but seriously they should have said you were still filming," he grumbled as Carlos’s interview flicked across the screen, Max’s face carefully blurred out.

It was very lucky that Max wasn’t in his usual clothes (what he referred to as his Red Bull uniform), instead in very baggy black cargos and a plaid green sweater. No one would ever suspect that the person lunging at Carlos was max, even with the comment about grid kids. Not that the drivers in Lewis’s group noticed anything, but if they had even given the littlest bit of attention to the person lunging, they would have just assumed that it was an ex-driver who just happened to be hanging around.  

The rookies in Max’s group recognised him instantly, face blur and all.

“Hey! First Max appearance!” Kimi crowed, pointing at the screen as if the other people hadn’t noticed the Max-shaped figure flying at Carlos.

As Gabi and Kimi and Ollie bickered between themselves as to who Max was talking about (not realising that he was talking about them), Carlos leaned closer to Max.

“I know you are in a better head now, but yes you can see that Ollie said brother’s and? He was already seeing you as grid dad even back then, Max.” Carlos whispered to Max, deliberately pitching his voice down in a way that made it all but impossible for the rookies to overhear.

Fernando overheard though. He didn’t say anything, but the hand that carefully cared through Max’s hair was reassurance enough.

The dinner scene got worse.

Netflix cut to the group playing games together, yet it was clear the FIA had interfered in what could have otherwise been a nice night for the drivers.

The Jenga tower that Charles and Pierre were sitting around looked fun at first, especially when you saw that some pieces had dares scribbled onto the sides and there were a few bottles just poking out from behind the pairs backs… Yet as the camera stayed on them for longer it was slightly noticeable that they were just poking the pieces, everything being glued together to stop them from actually ending up doing something that wasn’t family friendly. Charles and Pierre didn’t look very amused, a badly masked grimace on both of their faces as both men poked the wooden bricks as if it would suddenly do something. 

Lando and Oscar were throwing darts, but there was a suspicious lack of actual darts. Both men had magnetic darts, and there had very obviously been a picture on the dartboard that was hastily ripped down.

Each and every driver had been paired up with someone that the FIA thought would be a fan-liked pairing (Esteban, Fernando and Lance had all been grouped together to make up for Max’s absence. The trio were making friendship bracelets. Fernando had made his into a noose.)

Everything could have been fun. It could have been a nice night of seeing the drivers relax, yet instead we had an hour of people so carefully media trained that they weren’t objecting to kids' party games. 

“Oh god that was an awful way to start the season but I’m so thankful that Max wasn’t there!” George sighed, returning from the kitchen with a fresh mug of tea in his hands, “Could you imagine the fuss he would have made? Would have made so much trouble for the poor media teams to clean up.”

And Charles just watched as every driver in the room just nodded in agreement with George’s comment. 

What? 

What?

He knew that his fellow drivers didn’t really… mesh very well with Max, but to be thankful that he wasn’t there? To be happy that one of their own had been personally excluded from the first event of the season? The event specifically designed for promoting teambuilding and a sense of fellowship? What?!

And… well yes Charles hadn’t really been overly close with Max recently, but that was because Austria 2019 happened, and then Ferrari was being Ferrari, and then Max was winning all his titles against actual competitors while Charles couldn’t even get into the points sometimes… what was the excuse for the others!? 

It was with this in mind that Charles moved slightly further apart from the other drivers.

(No one noticed.)

Had he been missing something? Did the other drivers genuinely dislike his Max? And Charles somehow hadn’t noticed?!

No.

No no no…

Surely the drivers couldn’t have been doing it on purpose, right? It was just a big mistake as Max didn’t want to play along with the family narrative?

But the narrative was being pushed by the FIA…

The FIA who disliked Max…

The FIA who made Max’s image into this cruel monster…

Oh shit! 

Charles nervously settled back into his chair, now very worried for what the episodes were going to show.

Chapter Text

The drivers were still laughing about Max not being there when the next episode started up. The logo sound effect was muted and people chattered over the introductions this time, but like before a hush fell over the crowd when the actual clips began. It seemed that Netflix wasn’t going to show every race (to the great relief of some of the drivers who remembered some of the stunts the FIA had made them do throughout the racing year), as the clips that appeared had some Bahrain exclusive helmets in them. 

(This is the 2025 grid and calendar, but not the same results. Because this is a story. My story. And I say so. So ha!)

Bahrain, George remembered with a wince, had been the first major loss for his rookie teammate. It wasn’t a DNF, no crash or mechanical failure. In some ways that would have probably been preferred. No, this was just poor driving. 

Bahrain was also when the FIA had started properly pushing the family narrative. Yes of course they had been trying to push it in the media throughout the racing year, but in Bahrain they had properly upped the ante. Probably because it was the first time something had gone wrong for a driver.

Around the room you could slowly see everyone's eyes widen as they remembered what had happened in Bahrain, and how they’d handled it. Some people started to smile, still firmly in the belief that they had done the correct thing, but Charles was looking worried. He remembered the aftermath of Bahrain as a failure and really wasn’t looking forward to watching it on the big screen.

The episode didn’t care who wanted to watch what though, and soon Kimi’s face filled the screen.

The sight of Kimi sitting in his car, helmut still firmly on, filled the screen. He seemed to be breathing heavily and a few seconds in he flicked his visor down, but not before it was very noticeable that his eyes were filling with tears. 

A voice cracked across his radio, “We’ll talk later Kimi. Please go to weigh in now.”.

It was Toto. And he didn’t seem to be happy. He didn’t seem unhappy either, but he certainly wasn’t happy. Was disappointed the right word? Was he upset with Kimi? Disenchanted with his performance? You could almost see this running though Kimi’s head as the Netflix camera followed him as he pulled his helmet off and left the car.

“Oh shit was that this race!?” Lando cried out, almost dropping the popcorn that he’d somehow found during the first episode. It turned out that not every driver remembered what had happened.

“Lando!” Alex was the first to groan. He didn’t seem too upset though, more just surprised with Lando not remembering. It had been a huge thing in the media after all, being so close to the start of the season everyone in the media was desperate to make a sensationalist headline out of it. Rookie brought up too early, was a popular one for the week.

“Ah geez,” Lewis was the next to speak, “Poor kid, he probably wasn’t expecting to have this be the major episode feature.” 

Around the room people sympathetically grimaced. Several of them remembered when the media had decided that they were this week's media sensation, and it never ended well. Especially not for the drivers. Especially not for a driver this young. 

“I forgot how grumpy Toto was with him over the radio,” George commented, almost under his breath. He’d got along better with Kimi as the season progressed, but there was still the feeling that he was to be the Ricciardo to Kimi’s Verstappen that kept him awake at nights every now and again.

In the earlier viewing, in Max’s house where he was joined by Fernando, Carlos, Kimi, Ollie and Gabi, everyone was less impressed with Toto.

“Yes of course,” Max was grumbling, "because when the the rookie in his first season-”

“His first season!” Carlos nodded along with what Max was saying, equally grumpy.

“- his first season! And he has a slightly bad result which is perfectly acceptable for a rookie! And all you can say is we’ll talk later?! Talk later?!” Max was on a roll now.

Kimi tried to get him to stop, his face slowly turning red in embarrassment, but Ollie pinned him back to the carpet, the two wrestling about and laughing as Max’s rant continued.

“And he said it on the radio as well! Like he doesn’t know that the media has just been waiting for a reason to have a go at you Kimi, for fucks sake man!” Max was properly irritated, even though he had seen this clip before it was still annoying him.

He gently pushed Ollie off of Kimi, freeing up the younger boy to pull him closer to Max’s side. Ollie huffed a little, but soon pressed up against Kimi’s other side, flopping down so the Kimi was somehow pressed even closer to Max. Gabi - not wanting to be left out - stood up and all but bellyflopped on top of Fernando on the couch. Fernando let out a huff of air as Gabi landed but made no move to push his mentee off. Carlos made a hasty retreat to the kitchen, but was summoned back with a chorus of cries and jeers, and he settled next to Max, throwing an arm over the younger man’s shoulders.

The camera continued to follow Kimi as he weighed before heading back to the Mercedes garage. The people in the garage greeted him with nods, neither friendly nor unfriendly. 

A clip appeared from the race just last week, where the mechanics were picking him up and twirling him around in the air, their smiles wide as everyone was there to clap him on the back over a p6 result. Toto was beaming and looked so incredibly proud of Kimi in the video footage from just one race ago.

Then it cut back to Bahrain. No one really acknowledged Kimi, too wrapped up in their own conversations to do more than a vague nod in his direction. The camera made sure to zoom in on where tears started to fall before Kimi frantically brushed them away.

There was a bit of a kerfuffle over to the left just off camera, and then George hastily made his way across to Kimi. He was looking over his shoulder to someone the entire time he was walking over, and it was so clear that he was being told to go talk to Kimi by some pr person. In a split second frame, you can just see the sleeve and lanyard of an FIA media supervisor in the corner. 

Still, the camera zoomed in as George patted Kimi on the shoulder, an awkward half smile, half grimace on his face.

“Better luck next time, yeah?” he reassured Kimi, still patting him as one would a particularly troublesome dog, “Everyone has bad days,” and oh how condescending his tone was!

Kimi didn’t respond but the Netflix camera caught how his eyes once again filled with tears. George didn’t notice. Or if he did notice, he didn’t care enough to say anything. With a glance over to the media supervisor who clearly thought that George had done a wonderful job of comforting his teammate, the Brit left, running over to celebrate Alex getting into the points. (P10, it was only P10. There were a few clips of George being nowhere near as happy when Kimi got his p6 last race.)

George didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with this as he watched it back. He was nodding along with his words as if that had been exactly the right thing to say, had been the right way to handle the situation.

Some of the other drivers were less impressed.

“George!” Charles groaned, “Please tell me you actually spoke to him before starting with the FIA family narrative thing…”

At George’s bewildered expression, Lewis’s head fell into his hands.

“Come on man, even I know that you actually talk with your teammate to clear the air before bringing media stunts into it!” he sighed.

George tried to splutter out some half-hearted explanation but the other drivers let out a resounding chorus of boos. All light hearted, of course, but still loud enough to drain out whatever explanation George was trying to give.

Alex ended up turning to George, pulling him close to try and give the illusion of privacy even though they were surrounded by a rather large number of their colleagues. “I’m really happy to have you celebrating points with me George, don’t get me wrong I was so happy to see you there, but really? You’re the older teammate now and I’m not saying be best friends with the kid, but come on you’ve gotta make some sort of effort. If just for team unity and nothing else.” he looked at George with slight disappointment, and somehow that got through to George more than anything else.

“Fine. Fine, I’ll have a word with him after this. Let him know he can come to me with any problems and all that, yeah? Driver solidarity against Toto?” He laughed, settling back against the sofa with a sigh… he didn’t like being told off by the people he worked alongside. And Alex. Especially Alex.

Max didn’t like George at the best of times.

Max wasn’t overly fond of Mercedes either.

Max was rather protective over Kimi.

So to have George and Mercedes causing an issue for his Kimi? For his (acquired) kid? Oh Max was really, really not happy.

The others in the room were very quick to usher Max out the room this time, to give him space to rant in peace. Fernando all but picked up Max, holding him like one would a feral cat that is very determined to claw your eyes out, and chucked him out the door. 

The rookies piled on the floor could hear him cursing out Mercedes through the door. There was a rather large amount of swearing, and a full thud as something was thrown. Fernando and Carlos were looking at the clock every couple of minutes, and as the seconds ticked down the the five minute mark, both held up their fingers, counting down from five seconds. The moment the final finger went down, at five minutes on the dot, Max stepped back into the room. He looked completely unruffled and calm as anything as he sat back down on the floor. 

What? His look seemed to say as he huffed at the rookies. Why on earth would you think I was anything less than perfectly calm?

Around him the rookies were about to say something when a glare from Carlos cut them off. It was a very easily understandable glare, the sort that says shut up, but you hear it all in capitals and with far too many exclamation marks after it. 

The rookies shut up and turned back to the episode. 

Some of the other drivers passed by Kimi, the camera catching the way each and every one of them sighed when they saw the rookie on the verge of tears. They all rolled their eyes as they had to take a minute out of their race celebrations to play happy families.

“You’ll do fine next race,” someone said to him.

“Don’t worry about it. This happens to everyone,” another driver awkwardly side-hugged him, tone almost bored.

“Hey, you doing alright?” Charles asked, but he was very quickly pulled away by the Ferrari media team. Charles didn't do much to fight the media that were dragging him away, but his tone was slightly less dull than the other drivers had been. Still he left without too much of a look back.

Kimi slunk away. He was supposed to be doing his media work but Mercedes just vaguely nodded when he asked to be excused, and Kimi took that as a dismissal. With tears in his eyes and sweat running down his back, Kimi rushed out the back entrance of the Mercedes HQ. None of the Mercedes team followed him. None of the drivers followed him. In fact, the only people who followed were the Netflix media team. 

They could be heard whispering behind the camera. It was a discussion between the FIA media and Netflix media. One voice was asking for people to get the drivers to talk to Kimi again, asking for them to act like concerned family, asking for them to be around Kimi so that they would be able to get a wonderful shot of the drivers comforting the crying rookie. The voice closer to the camera was refusing to do that. They were saying that they’d follow Kimi and if other drivers happened to be there then fine, but they wouldn’t force drivers to be around if that wasn’t what was actually going on behind the scenes. 

The voice pushing for the narrative slowly fades away as the camera starts moving again. It seems to be looking for Kimi, but after a few jumping cuts between various empty rooms, the camera fades out. 

“Seriously! I know that I had to go to a meeting, but did none of you actually check on him?!” Charles exclaimed, eyes wide in horror as he looked around the room.

The drivers all seemed suitably sheepish, yet they then all offered up excuses worse than the last.

“I had to change out of my team kit,”

“I needed to put my phone on to charge,”

“I didn’t see him,”

And worst of all, “I didn’t want the media to see it and try to spin it into some sort of story about me being the dad of the rookies. Like how they did with Vettel when he was supporting Charles.”

Because of course that was the worst thing that a formula one driver could imagine. Not being seen cheating on their partner, not being seen completely blackout drunk, but to be seen genuinely being kind. For all the talk about avoiding toxic masculinity, and improving mental health, very few drivers seemed to actually put that into practice once the cameras were off. 

George tried to get the controller away from Charles so that he could un-pause the episode, but Charles wasn’t impressed with any of the other drivers. He threw the controller over to Lewis and stormed out the room, slamming the door behind him. A yell of, “Give me ten minutes so that I do not kill someone,” echoed though the room as all eyes stared at the door he’d left through, wide in surprise.

There was a bit of quiet, and then…

“I didn’t know he was such good friends with Kimi,” Alex muttered.

Because of course that was the only reason that someone would care about the other drivers valuing charging their phone or keeping their macho media appearance more than comforting a sobbing rookie. Because there was no reason to care unless you were good friends with the person.

Charles didn’t return for quite a while.

Max was nodding approvingly at Charles as he at least tried to go to Kimi. There was a little bit of grumbling as Charles left with his media team without too much looking back at Kimi, but he didn’t have to leave the room again. The rookies in the room frowned a bit at this, though Ollie was the only one to voice this.

“Not that I want you to mate, but you’re not as angry with Charles as the others?” he asked, eyes flickering towards the door in case Max was going to need to rant again.

Max’s face (to the drawing realisation of the rookies) slowly turned red, the blush visibly creeping down his neck. He fidgeted on the floor for a bit, shuffling around and refusing to meet anyone's eye all while making vague humming noises as if that was supposed to explain everything. 

“...It’s Charlie…” Max eventually managed to say, as if that was a good enough explanation. 

And given how red Max had gone, none of the rookies really wanted to ask any further questions.

The clips start back up again showing the drivers all gathered in the hospitality lounge. Again, it was the exact sort of room that you would expect the FIA to provide the drivers with. It looks far too sterile, and quite possibly had cameras embedded into the walls. There were just one too many chrome fixtures, and the lights were jus that little bit too bright, but it was away from the rest of the media so all the drivers had congregated here.

Someone had dragged in a battered laptop and there were the race highlights playing on loop, surrounded by far too many bottles of water and pieces of fruit and energy bar wrappers. The drivers were all on perfect white sofas that looked just a little bit too firm, all relaxing after the race. 

Every driver was there. Every driver except Max and Kimi and the occasional rookie that people seemed to just forget about. Now Max was never there, and Kimi was… somewhere… but none of the other drivers seemed concerned by this. In fact, everyone seemed completely unbothered, even happy about it.

“Oh shit,” someone screeched as several people fell off sofas in Lewis’s home.

It was very clear that, once again, the drivers hadn’t been told that the cameras were in the hospitality lounge. Or rather, Netflix had probably asked the FIA to inform the drivers, and the FIA (in all their infinite wisdom) had decided to not inform the drivers in order to get better drama. That was definitely something that they would do, just for a laugh if nothing else.

There was a dawning realization of the faces of all the drivers as they tried to think back to what had happened at the Bahrain GP. it was such a long time ago that why on earth would anyone remember what happened in that one room after a specific race all those months ago? It was going to be a bit of a surprise for them as well!

“You weren’t there again Max,” Ollie commented, “I know that Gabi and I were trying to find Kimi and you were with your team, but surely you couldn’t have been busy enough to not be with the rest of the drivers?”

There was a wince from Fernando and Carlos.

Max was quiet for a bit, clearly thinking how best to answer the question. The silence was a little bit unsettling, given how fast Max was usually able to answer questions. But eventually he was able to answer, “When I first joined the grid, the drivers were already quite an established group? Yes? And so I was there and I was very annoying, so they did not tell me that there was a group. By the time I knew, I did not feel like joining them. That’s all, of course, there’s no hard feelings.” 

“And none of you said anything!” Kimi exclaimed, shocked as Max had been so welcoming to him and the rest of the rookies, and so to hear how badly he’d been treated back in the day…?! Yet Max didn’t seem to see anything wrong with what had happened!?

Fernando looked nervous while Carlos just shrugged.

“It was my first year as well, there was little I could do.” he sighed, still looking a bit put out about it though.

Fernando didn’t say anything. Kimi glared at him a bit.

The camera slowly panned around the group, stopping for a split second on each driver.

“So,” Lando spoke up, not realising that the camera was in the room, “Guess the family thing is going well?” 

There was a chorus of laughter as many of the drivers raised their water bottles in a mock salute.

Carlos was less unimpressed, “Yeah, cause our family ignores you when you’re crying.”

No one seemed to be bothered too much by that though. George just waved him off with a laugh, “Nah he’s fine. Just a bad race, you know?”

“Right,” Carlos continued, still a bit huffy, “ Because that’s exactly what you told him.”

Again, George rolled his eyes, although there was a slight bit of hesitation before he spoke again, “I just told him the same thing I’d told anyone. I told him that we aren’t babysitters. And we’re not!”

There was again another long pause as everyone except Charles and Carlos seemed to think that that was a perfectly normal response. 

“No one said you had to be his babysitter,” Charles frowned, leaning back further on the plastic-y couch, his voice verging on annoyed, “Just that you had to be… well not family but…”

“You could at least be his friend,” Carlos finished the sentence when it was clear that Charles had no idea how he was going to do so.

But the other drivers just shrugged. It wasn’t really important to them to pretend to be friends with the other drivers, not least the ones that didn’t offer any media benefits. It didn't matter how much the FIA asked for them to be a happy family, the drivers would never try to push the narrative when it wasn’t in their interests.

Shit.

That seemed the general consensus between the drivers sat in Lewis’s living room as the clips started to play. They really hadn’t realized that there was a camera in the room and it was going to backfire so badly on them now. 

Lando winced when his snarky comment about the FIA family attempt. 

“Ah nooo,” he groaned, already imagining how pissed his media team were going to be with him for such a blatant disrespect of what the FIA had asked from the drivers. It was quite one thing to dislike a request, but to be publicly on video - a video that was going to be broadcast to quite possibly all F1 fans across the world - snarking about the rule? Oh dear he was going to be in quite a lot of trouble for that one.

As the video progressed, it became much more apparent that quite a lot of people were going to be slated on social media after this. With likely only Carlos and Charles not being.

Speaking of Charles, he was fuming. Having properly distanced himself from the rest of the drivers now, Charles was sat on the other side of the room with a glare on his face.

“Do you not hear how shitty you all sound?” He all but hissed, “Just a bad race…! Oh we’re not his babysitters…! Do you even hear yourself now? That was a child! And you are laughing about not helping him because it doesn’t help you?! Do you even hear yourself?!”

Lewis tried to intervene, “Come on Charles, we didn’t know the kid at this time. We’d never treat him like that now, you know?”

“Oh and like that’s supposed to make it better?!” Charles whirled around to glare at Lewis, “It’s all great being friends with him once he’s proven himself good enough for you all, but that was a child coming into a new group. Once again you especially failed a rookie joining!”

“Come on man, that’s not fair. Kimi’s much nicer than Max, we let him into the group after the midseason after all. He just had to, you know, find his footing a bit first.” Lewis stumbled through an answer, wincing as he heard his own words.

Charles wasn’t impressed.

He found that he wasn’t much impressed with many of the other drivers recently.

Except Carlos.

He wouldn't mind having him back as a teammate actually…

“Oh my God Lando,” Carlos sighed, his voice slightly muffled from where he had his face hidden in Max’s shoulder, like he couldn’t bear to watch the screen any longer, “Why would you say that? Surely you know that there would be netflix cameras there?! Did you not see how the sofas were placed so clearly so that everyone could be seen?! Why else would they be in that very odd circle?!”

Max huffed out a laugh as he gently headbutted Carlos.

“Be nice Carlos, you know Lando just talks without thinking,” he smiled softly, but his smile then quickly turned down, “but George should have known better than that.”

When Kimi heard what George said, Max could feel him shrink down. He reached over, pulling the young Italian even closer.

“Don’t listen to George,” Max whispered, though everyone in the quiet room could hear what he was saying, “He’s just an idiot who doesn't know how to work as a teammate.”

Kimi wasn’t reassured though, “But he’s right,” he muttered, “He didn’t need to be a babysitter for me, I should have been able to take care for myself.”

Carlos wasn’t impressed with that, “Kimi. Charles and I were very annoyed with him there. He was wrong to say he needed to babysit you as he didn’t, but as your teammate when you first joined F1 he should have been there for you more than he was.”

Kimi shrugged slightly, nestling closer into Max. But he did seem less upset now.

“It was nice that you and Charles defended me. Thank you,” He spoke up, turning slightly to Carlos as he said it.

But Carlos just shrugged, “It was what needed to be said. You don’t need to thank me for it.”

Max was softly smiling at the screen. No prizes for guessing who he was thinking of.

Oh how wonderful it was that Charles was standing up for the rookies that Max had taken an interest in looking after. Max hadn't been in these meetings with the rest of the drivers, so it was nice to know someone was standing up for his rookies for him (besides Carlos of course).

 Next in the clips were some of the confessional interviews. These had clearly been taken after the season, and the drivers obviously hadn’t been allowed to watch the episodes before they were asked the questions.

George was up first. It wasn’t stated what question he’d been asked, but from his response it was clearly something about the family narrative.

“I think,” and his voice was hesitant as if carefully choosing his words, “we are expected to be a lot closer than we are in practice. I mean, yeah, we see each other all the time and Alex is my closest friend, but that's more just because he’s Alex. Not because we’re both drivers? Like, yeah I’d look out for Kimi - he’s my teammate. If he’s not scoring points for the team because he’s unhappy then that's an issue right? But I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend? I think that's fine, right?”

Lando was similarly dismissive.

“Yeah they want us to act like best friends one moment and then want a proper fight the next? Come on man! Half the guys don’t even have each other's phone number and I couldn’t guarantee anyone I texted now would end up replying by the end of the day!” And he finished by laughing -  that high nervous laugh that made it very difficult to realise if he was joking or not.

Thankfully Charles looked slightly more concerned as he sat down for his interview. 

“I don’t know about the whole family narrative…” he started slowly, “but I think that it is quite important to be close to the other drivers. There are only so many of us, of course, so I feel it is important to be close to them. For support. It is not a bad PR either. Far better than Ferrari's thirst traps after we fail a race,” the last sentence was muttered under his breath. 

The interviews ended with Charles looking down into his lap, brow furrows and eyes worried as if he wasn’t sure he had done the right thing. 

The interviews ended and the clips were back to those in the lounge. Again, the drivers didn’t realise that they were being filmed.

George was quick to defend himself.

“I’m not taking back any of what I said,” he hurried to say, voice slightly waspish, “He was just my teammate at the start of the season and I don’t see any reason I should have to care more about him than that!” 

Around him the rest of the drivers were groaning again.

Alex was the one to speak up. Perhaps it was best that he was the one to speak up, being the closest to George and all that.

“Did you really have to say that to the cameras though? You know that you were being filmed here, and that’s what you choose to say? Even after the end of the season? You know how the media is going to take that.”

And George did realize how the media was going to take that. Even without the narrative of the family that the FIA was trying to push, it was still expected that teammate pairings got along in some regard. And here was George openly saying that the only reason he gave a shit if Kimi was happy or not was over points for the team? 

He was supposed to be the older teammate, the one providing the guidance, the one welcoming in the new generation… And here he was completely uncaring about how the eighteen year old driver was doing?! … It really wasn’t painting George in a very good light and he knew it …  

Lando was laughing as Alex gently ripped into George, but he was quickly shut up when his face filled the screen.

“Oh here we go,” Oscar sighed, head collapsing into his hands.

“Lando!” It was Hulkenberg who spoke up for the first time since the episodes began, “You’re in a group chat with all of us! How do you not have everyone's phone number?!” He looked almost horrified when he said that.

Lando tried to justify himself but Oscar was quick to speak over him.

“George would reply, so would Alex, and myself, and Charles and so many other drivers. Max and Lewis would get back to you within minutes, Lando!” Oscar said, his hands waving in a manner that was so clearly dismissive.

Then Charles’s face popped up on the screen.

“Oh nooo,” he groaned, “what did I say?!”

Lewis cut in, “Oh man is Silvia going to kill you for this?” 

Charles just shrugged, “I don’t know! I can’t remember… I think I might have been slightly drunk at the time…”

But then Charles’s interview played and his frightened expression became more and more smug as it progressed. Because he was going to end up getting so much good press for this! Maybe not for his comment about Ferrari, but hey! The public would like that at least?

Max went through a wide variety of emotions in a very short space of time.

At first he was very much pissed at George, what with his comments about poor Kimi, and then he was fairly miffed about Lando’s comments (especially as Max knew for a fact that when Lando had texted him just yesterday, he’d respond in under five minutes) and then Charles (his Charlie!) had appeared and said all those lovely things about being close to the other drivers.

And Max liked being close to the other drivers. When he joined F1, he really wanted to get close to all the older drivers. He’d sort of hoped that over time they would grow to like him - that if he was good enough and acted enough like they acted that they would have no choice but to let him into their group - but that obviously didn’t happen. 

Yet now he was sitting there, two older drivers and three rookies, all bundled close enough that he could practically hear their breathing. They were all laying across each other, resting in a comfortable silence. 

And so yes, Max agreed with all those lovely things that Charles was saying about the other drivers. (And if Charles wanted to join in the cuddling then Max would be more than OK with that…)

The race reviews were still running and the FIA broadcast had managed to get a clip of Kimi after the race. 

The drivers laughed as George appeared upon the screen, each opening their mouth to give him a friendly ribbing. 

“That’s going to be all over Merc social media by tomorrow,” George sighed, head falling into his hands. 

“Aww big brother George!” Lando cooed, almost falling off the sofa with his laughter. 

“You can literally see the FIA lanyard in the corner,” Carlos pointed out, astounded at how obvious the manipulation was. 

“Is he alright? Why’s he not here with us?” Charles was the only one to ask. No one else seemed bothered. (Carlos was repeatedly checking his phone.)

George just waved his hand carelessly, “He’s probably gone back to the hotel. He should be fine by tomorrow. Just let him cry it out Charles.”

And Charles almost relaxed back on to the couch but there was a moment of hesitation he spoke up again, “He shouldn’t be alone after a bad race like that…”

Around the room almost all the drivers groaned. “He’s not five, Charles,” Pierre sighed, looking at Charles as if he were stupid. 

“Still,” Charles hummed. 

He pushed up from the sofa, heading over to the door. None of the driver said anything, besides a bit of sighing about how there weren’t any cameras and that Charles didn’t have to do all of this just for PR. Still, Charles continues to walk away. The camera followed him easily, the red Ferrari polo stark against the off white walls. Yet as he turned a corner the camera blurred out, almost like the cameraman had been told not to follow him. The scene cut away. 

The chattering started up again as the screen cut away to the next clip. Someone was helpfully pausing each time, so the group had enough time to talk away without missing anything.

“Why’d they put that in?” Pierre asked, confused.

Around the room the other drivers seemed to echo that thought. Why had Netflix put that clip in? It wasn’t really anything new, just the driver pointing out how blatant the FIA manipulation was, which would have been obvious to anyone watching anyways. 

Was it to try and spin Charles in a better light? Yes, that must be it, half the group decided. The other half decided that it was because that was probably the closest that the FI has come to having an actual family dynamic to show on Netflix, what with Charles being all concerned for Kimi and going to look for him even when he thought there were no cameras around.

Charles just watched in annoyance as no one even bothered to stand up as he left the room. It was so clear that no one was going to join him on his - unfortunately unsuccessful - hunt for the younger driver, and didn’t that just leave an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. 

There wasn’t much that Max’s group had to say as the video clicked up onto the screen. The drivers had already shown a complete lack of care for little Kimi, so why should it start now? At least Charles was trying to do something…

The next clip that faded into view was Max Verstappen. He was drenched in Champagne and red bull, fresh from the podium and celebrating his win with the team. 

The discrete camera catches it as he ducks into his motor home and emerges back in his red bull team kit, a towel in one hand and a navy backpack in the other. A screen behind him has the race placements in it, and the camera focuses on the +19.5s next to Max’s name for a second before the focus returns to the man walking away. 

“Ooooo!” It wasn’t exactly clear who let that sound slip, but it was clearly a sentiment echoed around the room.

Lando then audibly groaned, “Oh here we go again. Here’s the hero shot.”

Someone else huffed a laugh and Pierre waves a dismissive hand towards the screen, “They’re really milking that sore huh? Why can’t they go the ‘anyone but Max’ winning thing again. That was fun to watch…”

“At least,” George’s tone was dry as he interrupted. “They’re not trying to force us to play happy families with Kimi again. There’s only so much of you being shit at acting a man can watch.”

No one laughed. But everyone found that comment funny.

Oscar was fidgeting with a pillow that lay in his lap, “I still don’t get why Netflix isn’t making a bigger deal about Max being the loner. I mean, I know that it was the FIA decision to play happy families, but surely Netflix would find it interesting to contrast Max to us? Drama and all that?”

“I reckon Netflix just gave up and all that,” Lando shrugged off Oscar’s ideas, “He doesn’t want to be part of the Netflix circus anyway… made that clear enough.”

Esteban scoffed. “Yeah, and they’ll still make him look like some mysterious antihero even without him playing their game. And we get the dysfunctional family edit!”

George chuckled. It was low and humorless. “The family of Formula… minus the guy winning everything cos he can’t be arsed to deal with the rest of us for long enough to even pretend to care…”

Much applause broke out, to the embarrassment of Max. He let them have their fun, even playing along when Ollie jokingly started bowing to him, but cut everyone off when the wolf whistles started. 

“Look at that strut Maxie!” Fernando laughed, now a few glasses of wine deep, “you paint those trousers on? I did not know they sold trousers that tight!”

When Max looked to Carlos for help, the Spaniard pretended to scold Fernando, only to turn back to Max with a vicious grin on his face.

“And what did your Charlie think of those trousers ey Maxie~” he grinned.

Max threw a pillow at Carlos.

It nailed him squarely in the face, but Carlos was too busy laughing to care.

The camera seems to be in the person's glasses and Max appears not to realise the person is working for Netflix, as when they start speaking he doesn’t immediately switch on his media training. 

“Hey Max, good race?” The media person asked, hands tapping around his glasses to double check that the cameras were recording. They were. 

“Oh hello! Yes, of course, I had a very nice race. Liam was racing well as well and I have lots I need to tell the team about the car. Everyone did a good job and I am very happy with the team,” Max replies, his face noticeably more relaxed than he had been in front of the media earlier. 

It seemed that that wasn’t quite the angle that the cameraman was going for as he took a second to respond. But before he was able to say something , Max stopped dead. The cameraman looked towards him, almost asking what was going on, when Max ran off, turning a corner ahead. 

The room was unnaturally quiet for a long time. The screen was frozen on the close up of Max’s face - relaxed and open in a way that none of the drivers recognised.

Lance voiced what they were all thinking. 

“Was it just me,” he started, his voice very hesitant but growing stronger as people started nodding along with what he was saying, “but was Max actually nice?”

“Yeah… Didn’t think he knew how!” Franco muttered, but his eyes were transfixed on the soft smile that the on-screen Max wore. 

Max was being nice?

Max was nice?

He didn’t know that there was any media around, he didn't know that the man with the glasses was filming, he just ran into someone who asked about a race, and he was more than happy to chatter away to them.

None of the drivers had ever had such a lovely conversation with Max. (None of the drivers had ever initiated such a conversation. They’d never even had a friendly conversation with him, never initiated so much as a polite chat.)

The drivers were equally bewildered.

“He was just… a normal guy?” George’s face was a picture that, had Max been there, he would have tried to frame it just so that he could hang it upon his wall and stare at it forever.

“That is not Max,” Liam was insisting, “That’s gotta be some sort of fake stand-in that Netflix pretended was Max.”

But it was clearly Max. 

So very clearly Max.

Even down to the freckle on his lips, and the slight turn out of his ears.

“It is Max,” Charles was quick to add, “Maybe not the version of Max we know, but that is very definitely Max.”

And everyone just nodded. As if there was someone who’d be able to identify Max from a single look, it would be Charles. 

But still even with the certain confirmation that it was Max, the drivers couldn’t even believe it.

“No no no come on,” someone ever in the corner, possibly just a few shots of tequila too deep, kept insisting, “that’s gotta be edited to make him look better right? Max can't be… he can’t be nice can he?!”

Because the world would end if Max was nice?

(...It would for some people. For people who have spent their entire time together ignoring Max to his face and then laughing behind his back, it was all too easy to justify their actions by simply insisting that Max deserved it. That he wasn’t a good person. That it was perfectly alright to exclude him because he didn’t give a shit about them anyway. But if Max was nice…?)

George wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked vaguely ill. “No, you can’t fake that. He genuinely didn't realise that there was a camera there, so that’s his actual reaction… He really honestly didn't realize he was being filmed…”

“So what, he’d just horrible to us in F1 then?” Lando huffed, throwing himself back further into the sofa, his arms crossed.

“How come the social media guy gets the soft side and we get Max Max?” Lewis offered up, his brow furrowed in irritation.

No one had an answer for him.

No one wanted to say the answer that was starting to creep into the back of their minds.

“... oh you really didn’t know that you were being filmed did you…?” Ollie breathed out a laugh, turning to Max with an incredulous look on his face.

Max was a delightful shade of red. He just shrugged though, so clearly bashful but desperately trying to hide it.

“Seriously though, why did you leave that in?” Carlos asked, gently kicking Max.

Again there was a shrug, but Max did end up answering, “I just, well, of course there is an idea about me with the drivers, yes? And the fans? So I just wanted to sort of give them something about me as well, as I approved all the… eh… snooping? Yes, snooping, when the other drivers weren’t aware. It felt only right to say something about myself?”

There was an approving nod from Carlos and a slight huff from Fernando.

“You could have just embarrassed them, yes?” Fernando grumped, clearly imagining what he would do had he been given control over what was being said about his fellow drivers. 

Several ex-drivers felt a wave of horror fall over them at that very moment. None of them realised why.

Sensing a very good story, the camera man followed as Max raced off. He caught up to the dutchman very quickly, as he was standing outside a locked door, asking the person inside to let him in. Max’s voice was softer than anyone had ever heard it. 

And then…

The door opened and Max slipped in. 

The camera-man was quick enough and close enough that the camera remained trained in Max the entire time. And the camera caught Max dropping to the floor and pulling a trembling Kimi into his side. There was a long moment of silence before Kimi broke down into heavy sobs. Max pulled the rookie somehow even closer, running a hand through his hair and a hand up and down his back, desperately trying to soothe the poor boy. 

At first there was groaning when the camera continued to follow Max. Not by everyone, of course, but the ones who weren’t groaning were only doing so because they realied that watching Max was better than watching themselves completely fuck up playing happy families again. 

And then Max’s voice was softer than anyone had ever heard it before.

And then Max was slipping through that door.

And then Max was dropping to his knees to comfort someone he had no obligation to, someone he had no reason to comfort, no possible thing to gain from comforting. But he dropped to the floor all the same.

The silence in the room was loud. 

There wasn’t anything anyone was going to say.

There wasn’t anything they were able to say.

(There was a lot they could say. An apology, for starters. Perhaps even the word sorry, if they were feeling daring.)

“I know I said it was alright to show this, but oh my gosh am I embarrassed.” Kimi groaned, tucking his face into Max’s chest. 

Max pulled Kimi closer, stroking a hand through the younger man’s hair.

“It’s not bad cucciolo, you had a very rough race. It is only normal to be upset, yes? I am sure everyone else has been this sad over a race rashout. Especially a crash so early into their rookie season.” Max reassured him, and Carlos and Fernando were quick to chime in with their own experiences.

It didn't seem to make Kimi any less embarrassed, but at least now he was looking around instead of faceplanting directly into Max’s chest.

“Well done Maxie,” Fernado leaned over to whisper into Max’s ears, so quiet that Kimi couldn’t hear, “I am so proud of you, you are such a wonderful person and I am so proud of the person you became.”

And if Max was blinking back tears, that wasn’t anyone's business.

Then he started talking to Kimi. In Italian. 

“You did so good ‘Drea,” Max soothed, his voice soft as anything and Italian perfect as if it were his first language, “Toto was very worried about you, he said he didn’t mean to sound too annoyed over the radio. You did a wonderful job, no one’s going to hold one bad race result against you. You did so well Andrea.”

Kimi had all but crawled into Max’s lap by this point, the older man’s arms wrapped tightly around him and he made reassuring noises. Slowly Kimi’s tears faded, though he made no move to leave Max. 

“Oh!” Max perked up and reached out for his bag. 

“Hmm?” Kimi made a curious noise, watching as Max opened his bag and pulled out a well worn blue sweater. It was seemingly hand knitted and had a few patches sewn onto the sleeves. All the batches were blurred out, but the colours were very visible. The colours of various shades of blue and green in even stripes were rather distinctive but it was blurred enough to give plausible deniability. Kimi pointed at the patch with a grin, only to receive a halfhearted scolding.

Max helped Kimi into the jumper. It was clearly one that was designed to fit Max, as it fell far too large on Kimi, but it seemed very soft with how Kimi shoved his face into the fabric. 

The camera catches it as Max kept fussing over Kimi, neatening out the jumper from where it falls off Kimi’s shoulders. Kimi giggled, hiding his face in Max's shoulder. This continues after Max picks up Kimi, the young man clinging to Max’s side from where he was perched on the older man’s hip as one would a small child.

“Is Toto really not angry with me?” He asked in a soft voice, almost too quiet for the camera to pick up.

Max huffed out a laugh, tugging Kimi higher up onto his hip and urging the boy to wrap his arms around Max’s shoulders. “You will have to do something far worse than that to make Toto angry with you,” he reassured the boy, “now come on, I’ll take you back to the hotel with me.”

And in a remarkable show of strength, the camera follows Max as he walks out the room with Kimi still in his arms. Through a series of back doors and hidden alleyways, Max carries him all the way to a car park that is clearly private access only. The media person somehow manages to follow the entire time, capturing the entire scene on the camera.

The camera caught it as Max opened the door of a stunning navy Ferrari Purosangue, depositing Kimi into the seat and even going as far as to buckle the younger man in before Max slipped around the car and into the driving seat. 

The episode ends as the car drives off out of the garage.

With one group there was complete silence. Everyone was just staring as the screen faded to black, unable to process what had just happened. That was Max? Mad Max? The one who they all loved to hate on to the media, the one who was violent and mean and didn’t care about the other drivers at all? That Max?

In the other group there was laughter. Max was being teased for carrying around the jumper which he begrudgingly admitted he’d knitted himself. THere were a few requests for Christmas gifts after that, which Max took in good humour. 

In the happy group there was laughter as Max picked up Kimi so effortlessly, in a way that had clearly happened before. There was teasing as Gabi pointed out how Kimi always seemed to find comfort curled up in Max’s lap (His exact words had been “Curled up next to Mama”). There was pointed grins as Max slipped into his Ferrari, though no one openly said anything. 

In the larger group there was still silence. There were startled blinks as it was pointed out that Max had handmade the jumper. There were dropped open mouths as Max (Mad Max, the one who doesn’t care about the other drivers at all, selfish Max, cruel Max, nasty Max) carried a rookie driver he’d only known for a matter of months half way across the paddock. There were wide eyes as people realised that Max was fluent in italian (And when the episode went public there would be a number of guilty italian fans who were sure that Max didn’t know the horrid comments they were yelling at him as he passed by.) 

There was also a very wide eyed Charles, especially when Max slipped into the Ferrari (clearly a custom made Ferrari at that) with Kimi held upon his hip like one would their child. 

There was cheer and there was silence.

And there was a very smug Netflix team.