Chapter Text
It was 2:30, and the afternoon sun was quite strong. ...Huh, I'm early; Max thought, while leaning against his car, constantly checking the time on his smartwatch. Despite the sun disturbing his eyesight for some time, he had to admit that the weather was nice.
He spent a while like that, until the sound of a peculiar engine caught his attention, pulling him from his mind palace.
A white Mercedes parked near Max's car.
There was a moment of silence, then the dutchman decided to approach the passenger-side window with a smile. The window rolled down shortly after, revealing the face of a rather happy, curly-haired boy.
"Hey, Dad!" said an enthusiastic Kimi from the window, looking at Max.
"Sup, kiddo. Long time no see, huh?" Max replied, glancing at the driver as well.
"Pa, I'm getting out now?" the teenager said back, hurrying to unbuckle his seatbelt.
"Yeah, get out and say hi." A voice with a peculiar accent answered, "I'll bring your things down, while you get on his car." Russell said.
Oh, George Russell.
George William Russell...
Where do we even start?
The situation in which Max had been living in for about some years by now was comical, or irresponsible would be a better word.
He and George always had their differences, but it wasn't until a peculiar night in Qatar of all places that everything changed.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? The only issue: this wasn't las Vegas.
In this case, it stayed with Russell. And of course he had to grab Max into it.
The possibility of men being able to conceive like that was commonplace in this society, but what no one suspected was that there were some among the drivers on the grid who could.
Even worse, no one expected it from Russell.
The funniest thing about the case is that, even worse, nobody expected the father to be Max Verstappen of all the drivers, men, human beings...
George swore on his bloody life that he couldn't stand him, insisting that he was a egotist bitch, who didn't think about anyone else, and that he would be a disaster of a father.
Apparently, that night he wasn't exactly thinking about that.
George considered this his shared karma with Max; because, let's be honest—they both provoked fights, hurtful comments, forced apologies... And all of that ended with two idiots staring in fear at two positive red stripes.
Kimi Andrea Verstappen (and Russell! God nobody called him Russell too) had been the small bond that kept them together.
Well, not really. George could acknowledge that Max was, all things considered, a good father, breaking the cycle of generational trauma he came from, and Max couldn't even dispute George's excellent motherhood (if you could call it that?).
Despite that and their attempts to form a relationship for their son, nothing (more than some casual sex maybe) had come of it in all these years.
...Supposedly, they weren't interested in each other.
That little introduction, welcome us to the present again. Oh right, Kimi.
Kimi got out of the car, running quickly to hug his father. They hadn't seen much of each other during the days they were supposed to be together because of the separate vacations they spent; now they were going to make up for lost time.
"Alright, champ. Get in the car while I talk to your mom," he said on purpose (George hated being called "mom"), "then we'll go wherever you want."
Kimi rolled his eyes as he ran to hug George, who had already gotten out of the car. "Ciao, pa," he said happily, hugging the Englishman. "See you next week, okay? Proooomise to come to the school presentation on Thursday..."
"..Kimi, I already told you I will," George said, hugging him and patting him. "Come on, I'll get your things." As Kimi went to get in, George got out to get the teenager's backpack.
Dealing with Max Verstappen of all people this early wasn't one of his favorite activities.
He was wearing his sunglasses, typical, as Max approached him. "Why are you late?" the Dutchman said, leaning against the other's car. "You always swear that I'm the irresponsible one by being just a second late." he noticed that annoyed look in George. Didn't care. "Unnecesary irresponsibility."
"Nice as ever, huh?" George said sarcastically, grabbing Kimi's backpack. "Well, listen to me: there's some things that... "
George and Max had never been committed; they weren't even in a relationship the day they slept together. But, for the sake of their creation (as Lando liked to tease them about) they'd always told the little Italian boy that they were just- Uh, divorced! but that they loved him no matter what; wrong plan.
When Kimi was around six, he went and shouted that at an Christmas dinner party with the grid, and oh boy, mainly Lando and Albon never let that die— Hell, even calling George "Mrs. Verstappen." The british man hated it.
Max had to admit that George, as unbearable as he was, was attractive, and oh when he was drunk he was—
"... And— Hey?" well, he had gotten to his damn mind palace again. "Max!" George snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, no alcohol and no— What did you say at the end?" Max said, scratching the back of his neck. George rolled his eyes.
"I'm not surprised." He sighed, rolling his eyes "I told you he has his finals next week, don't let him be messing around so much. Remind him to study." He said, handing him Kimi's things. "...He knows it, but you know, adolescence."
Russell leaned over to say something else to Kimi through the window, then walked back to his car. "Okay, don't screw this up." he said, looking dead on the eye at his child's father "I hope he comes back alive at the very least. Do not let something else happen like in Las Vegas."
Russell always said the same thing, as he started the engine. "Call me." he stopped— That sounds awful "...if anything happens." Good. That saved it.
"Oh, you're dying for my voice that much?" Max teased him, and *wanting to kill himself* on the inside by that cringe ass response.
... George just‐ Didn't say anything for a while, looking at him with a deadpan "I want to die every time I hear it," he said, looking at him one last time. "Take care, Maxie." And he started the car again. Maxie? What was that?
Max watched the car drive away, sighing —maybe a little disappointed at today's interaction...— with his hands on his hips. When he turned around, Kimi was watching him from the passenger seat with a knowing smile. "...He rejected you again?" the italian loved to tease his parents over this.
"Ugh. Please don't." Max said, walking over and getting into the car. "So, tell me, how's school?"
While a small conversation happened inside the black Porsche, from a distance, George shook his head, laughing as he adjusted his glasses while driving. Oh, Max.
...Idiot.
That's all he could think about. That Kimi's act on Thursday would be interesting.
While Max was talking about something else by the road, the Italian couldn't help but think for a moment about his parents' interaction.
They really thought he was still a naive child, but neither of them was subtle. Sooner or later, something would happen. He just knew it.
What's left in Qatar, maybe it can't be left behind.
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