Work Text:
On one hand George did not hate Max. They had a rivalry going on and he wouldn’t dare describe them as friends. But the thought of hate would have never occurred him if it wasn’t for the media.
On the other he was quite sure that Max hated him. Maybe it was influenced by the media, but in the way he found Max complaining about him, picking at things that really weren’t important, he was quite sure of that.
Of course he shot back. Why wouldn’t he? George would probably not admit it but he was a proud man. And someone picking at the bones of his smallest mistakes hurt that pride a bit. So when Max bit George bit back.
That was at least what he thought was the case.
One Oktober night George was sitting on the sofa of his apartment watching a movie. Outside it was raining in buckets and he was really hoping that the weather would clear up before the weekend, otherwise there would be absolute chaos on the grid. Although for now he was more than happy to be in his current position. Cuddled into a fluffy blanket with a steaming pot of tea and a small platter of buiscits.
He almost overheard the first knock on his door, so loud was the rain and the movie and so quiet was the knock. Looking at the clock on the wall he decided to ignore it. It was already well past eleven and what idiot would get the idea to bother anyone at this hour. Whoever wanted something from him, he decided it was not worth getting out of the comfortable warmth of his blanket for.
When the second knock came, only slightly louder this time, George begann to hesitantly peel himself out of his current position. The air in his apartment wasn’t freezing, but still colder then he would have preferred right now.
Annoyed he made his way to the front door, ready to tell anyone there of. If it was one of his friends they could have at least texted beforehand and if it was anyone else… well, he wasn’t quite sure. Who was still running around at this hour and in this weather. Certainly no salesmen or something.
Maybe they were trying a new tactic of annoying people late at night because they wouldn’t have the energy to bother with them and to get rid of them just threw a bit of money their way.
That was really unlikely. George shook his head at himself as he stepped into the hall. It was dark and he couldn’t be bothered to find the lightswitch so he just left the lights out.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound o a third weak knock, immediately followed by what sounded like something big and heavy falling against the door. George sped up his walking pace a bit, his curiosity now finally getting the better of him.
Looking through the peephole he saw only a few strands of wet brown hair in the lower periphery of his vision. He took the time to assess his situation. There was someone leaning with the back on his apartment door. Might as well be some stranger, some drunk guy or chick who’d come to the wrong apartment. They were obviously not in the position to stand.
George turned on his heel. He didn’t really care about someone like that. They would be found by a friend or would at least be gone by morning.
But maybe they needed help and for whatever reason George’s door was the one they decided to knock on. Maybe his apartment was the only one where there were still lights on. Because although the hall was dark his living room and kitchen were bathed in the warm light of the lamps.
George turned back, his conscience biting at him. Even if it was just some random drunk he could at least get them a glass of water and tell them they were at the wrong place, no?
The door gave in quicker than he expected. He caught the door half way before the body of the man fell halfway into his apartment, head hitting the floor hard, seemingly waking him up. But it wasn’t some stranger like George had expected, no, it was non other than his favourite enemy on track, Max Verstappen. Even with only the dim light from outside he could make out Max’s features and more worryingly that his clothes were not only wet through, but also ripped and torn in some places.
With a low groan Max lifted his head and looked around. „Fuck, Mate are you okay.“ George fumbled for the light switch on the opposite wall. When he finally found it he almost jumped at the state of his rival. Glassy eyes, shivering from the cold and small cuts and bruises all over his body. Max curled in on himself as the lights went on almost as if the light was painful to him and let out a pitiful whimper.
George hit the light switch again so fast it almost hurt. Again only bathed in the dim light from outside he crouched over Max’s still curled up body. „Hey, Mate… Max, are you okay?“ There was audible panic in his voice but no answer other than Max lifting his head a little. „Shit, stupid question, of course you’re not. Do you know who I am.“ He began to ask tentatively. A small nod. „Do you know where you are?“ Max shook his head. „You are in my apartment… at least halfway. Could you… Could I… I’d like to close the door if that’s okay with you.“
Without really waiting for an answer he reached for the door with one hand, the other going to gently push Max out of the way. As George lightly touched Max, the man shot upright and scurried backwards so that his back was now pressed against the wall.
In shock George took a step away, his own side hitting the door and slamming it shut. The sound of the impact made Max jump and release what sounded like a suppressed yelp.
George carefully pulled his phone out of his pocket and pointed its flashlight against the ceiling as to not blind Max or himself. „Hey, it’s okay, Max, I don’t want to hurt you. Whatever it is, you are safe now.“ He tried to soothe, while slowly inching closer.
The others eyes were glassy and milky almost as if somewhere totally else. A horrible idea crossed George’s mind. What if he was drugged. That would explain at least his light sensitive behaviour. Although it wouldn’t explain why Max was on his doorstep.
George decided that was a problem for later. „Max, it’s me, George. You are at my apartment. Can you stand?“ He knew he repeated himself but George wasn’t really sure what to do. He took Max pushing himself up the wall as a yes. „If you can we are going to go into the living room okay? It’s warmer there.“ Max took a shaky step forward and George found himself carefully guiding Max with an arm behind his back, making sure not to touch him.
After only a few steps Max fell into George’s arms. George managed to catch him rather quickly before he noticed that the man had fainted.
As carefully and quickly as he could he carried Max into the living room and laid him down on the sofa. He was light George noted. Concerningly light.
Now in better light, still slightly panicking, he got a better look of the wounds he already saw before. Mostly small knicks, not bleeding anymore and a few bruises, older and newer ones from the looks of them. At least he was breathing rather steadily. Max‘s ripped clothes were way to short for this weather George noticed. Almost as if he ran away from something.
George decided he had to get the wet clothes of Max, otherwise the Man would be sick in the morning, if he wasn’t gonna be already. The Problem was, looking at the clothes and the state of his rival, George didn’t think removing them normally was an option.
So, with a few quick steps he made his way into the kitchen to get a pair of scissors. The clothes were ruined anyway. Back beside Max he began to cut into the shirt, careful not to even touch Max. That went over rather successfully. He liftet Max‘s upper body lightly to drag he ruined shirt out underneath him, discarding it to the side and began to pull off his trousers.
When George was finished Max was wearing nothing more than his underwear. With a quick trip into his bedroom he gathered up a pillow and a big blanket to wrap Max up in.
In the process of doing so Max began to stir, opening his eyes. „What the hell…“ His voice was raspy and low. „Hey, Max…?“ „Russel?“ he sounded confused and shaky. „Yeah it’s me… wait, wait, stay down.“ George tried to gently push Max back down into a lying state before remembering his reaction from before and stopping just short of the man. „You really shouldn’t get up. It’s alright okay? We can talk about this tomorrow. Wait I’ll go get you some water.“
Before George was even fully turned around he felt Maxes hand gripping his sleeve. „Thank… You…“ George mustered a weak smile. „Go to sleep. Rest.“
—————————————————————————————————————————————
Max had forgotten that this much of his body could hurt. His head was throbbing and every bone felt like it was broken only to be mended together again, just to be broken again. Looking around he didn’t recognise where he was. A tinge of panic shot through him.
What the hell had happened last night? He tried desperately to remember anything, but to no avail.
Trying to move was a horrible idea as he realised. He could feel new bruises, maybe even a broken rib. Carefully he felt down his torso, realising he was almost butt naked. Fuck.
Max found his clothes after just a few moments of hectic looking around, as well as his body managed. They were thrown into a small pile a few meters away from the couch he was laying on.
Grabbing onto the blanket he sat up with a groan. The place he was at was clean, but kinda homely. It smelled familiar, although Max couldn’t quite place it. He was not at all comfortable though.
Making his way over to his small pile of clothes he had to realise that they were wet and for the worse, completely ruined. As if his current situation wasn’t bad enough. Now he didn’t even have clothes.
He was in a strangers flat, more purple skin than normal one, almost completely naked and with no memory of the last night. The last thing Max could think of was that his father was here to visit, came in with a late flight. Did they get into a fight? Or did they go out and he got drugged or something?
Max heard a door behind him open. „Oh, shit, you’re awake? It’s like 7:30. I thought after last night you’d be out till afternoon. You alright mate?“
„Russell?“ Max shot around, his voice scratching in his throat and his whole body protesting the sudden movement. He felt anger boil up in him. „What the fuck did you do to me? Why can’t I remember shit from last night? Why am I here?“
He took a few big steps in George’s direction. Did he do that to him? He’d usually not think so, George was to soft for that, but currently he would put nothing past anyone.
„I didn’t do anything mate.“ George raised his hands defensively. „You turned up at my doorstep in the middle of the night and literally fell into my apartment. I just brought you inside because it really looked like you needed help!“ „And then what? Did you… i don’t know, rape me or some shit?“
Max was close to screaming. He was furious. „No, fuck, why would you think that!?“ George took a few steps back. „Because. I. Am. Naked.“ Now he was full on screaming. His voice began to tremble at the implication of his own words.
„Okay, yeah, that is my fault, but only because your clothes were ruined anyway and absolutely soaked through. You should be thanking me instead of screaming at me!“ George’s voice matched Max’s in tone.
The spoken to took a few steps back and let himself fall onto the couch, burring his head in his hands. This was absurdly embarrassing. Butt naked on his rival’s couch, who had either saved him or raped him last night. He chose to believe the first.
„Hey, that water there on the coffee table is for you btw.“ George said, way more careful this time. Max looked up. He didn’t notice the glass before and nodded, hanging his head. „I’ll… I’ll go fetch you some clean clothes. They’re gonna be my size but you’re gonna have to deal with that. And maybe an aspirin.“ With that George was gone and Max was alone with his semi present thoughts in his throbbing head again.
Reaching for the glass he began to think again. He smelled the water just to be sure.
What was the last thing he remembered? His father had come to visit. They sat and drank and… probably talked. Only shreds of their conversation lingered in Max‘s mind.
Something, something, driving, something, disgrace, something, something, fixing.
Now Max was pretty sure whatever happened was his fathers fault. He silently went through all the curses in his multilingual dictionary. How the hell was he supposed to explain himself without telling George all that. Just not saying anything felt wrong. He showed up at George’s doorstep and not only let the man him in, no, he even kind of cared for him.
Max felt like he owed George at least an explanation. He hated owing people.
In just that moment George came back out of what Max assumed was his bedroom with a small stack of clothes. He pointed to a door across the hall. „That’s the bathroom, you can change in there. The aspirin is on the sink. Do you want coffee…?“
Max only nodded and took the offered clothes into the bathroom. „You can also take a shower or something if you want.“ George called after him.
A hot shower was maybe not that bad of an idea. George’s clothes fit him surprisingly well and were unexpectedly comfortable. Although George’s clothes did always look quite comfy.
Getting out of the bathroom Max already readied himself to be berated by more questions than after a race weekend, but only found George standing in the kitchen frying eggs. As much as he would like to deny it, but he was hungry. So he sat one one of the barstools, his whole body still aching with every move.
„How do you like your coffee? Milk? Sugar?“ George placed a cup of coffee in front of him. „Just… Ahem… Just milk.“ Max‘s voice gave out halfway through the words. The man spun around grabbing milk from the fridge and placing it together with a plate on the table. „Hope you like eggs and avocado toast, cause that’s all I really have right now. No, wait, I also have some strawberries and tomatoes.“
„Could you… Could you keep it down a bit? My head hurts like a bitch.“ , Max groaned.
„Yeah, sure, sorry.“ George leaned on the table and looked at Max for a second before turning around again and getting a second plate ready for himself. His eyes were so blue it almost hurt Max‘s head even more.
After a few bites Max took in a deep breath of air. Might as well get it over with now…
„I guess I owe you an…“ before he was finished speaking he was interrupted. „Explanation? No you don’t.“ George sighed but his voice sounded soft. „What ever you have going on there“ , he gestured at the whole of Max „is not my business, so if you don’t want to tell me anything, please don’t feel obligated to.“
George wasn’t even sure he really wanted to know what was going on anymore. He felt like playing therapist for his rival was above his pay grade. Although he would like to know why Max turned up at his apartment specifically, George decided it was not worth all the information that would come with it.
And Max? Max was quite happy about that. He didn’t really want to unpack the childhood trauma that would inevitably come with an explanation of his current state. He wasn’t even sure what happened yet himself. So he really didn’t mind, even appreciated it a bit.
Although he would never admit that.
They ate in silence, which was quite nice for Max‘s head. When they finished George got up to clear the table.
„Hey… um… thanks I guess.“ Max wanted to crawl into the ground but that wasn’t an option, so he just ducked into George’s hoodie a bit deeper. „It’s okay. What I did was common decency. I wouldn’t have left anyone out there in the cold.“
Max didn’t have to know how close George was to not opening the door. „You don’t owe me anything except my clothes back somewhen.“ That earned George a weak chuckle from Max.
Maybe his drugged self had made the right decision in coming here.
Although he would never admit that.