Chapter Text
In one universe, Max enters into the Formula One season bright-eyed and ready to show the world what he is made of, only 17 and three days. He enters with his father’s rough hand always pushing him forward, and everyone turns a blind eye. The other drivers are much more focused on their own careers and lives to think about the kid driver, aside from how he gets in their way. On July 28, 2016, reports came out that Jos Verstappen physically attacked his own father, Frans Verstappen after the Hungarian Grand Prix. Nothing comes of it.
Then, in another universe, when Max signs on for Toro Rosso, the world pays attention with fear and anger. Pup forced to Race! cuts through headlines as pictures of teenage Max smiling widely at the camera, with developing scent glands angry and red on his neck, cut through the press. That righteous justice quickly turns to unbelief and rage when Max steps into the car and forces another driver off track. When Max presents, he presents behind a curtain, alone and in the dark between races. Before his heat is even over his father hands him a bottle of suppressants with a fierce reminder of the rules. When he comes back for the next race, Sky Sports quickly makes the change from reckless pup to dangerous alpha. The other drivers do not care enough to ask why the young driver suddenly evades everyone like the plague. Jos, focused on keeping Max’s dynamic a secret, does not visit his father after the Hungarian Grand Prix.
In this universe, however, when Max wins the Spanish Grand Prix in 2016, he presents while on the podium between an alpha and a beta, the Dutch national anthem playing overhead. Jos is no longer his manager, after being imprisoned for assaulting his own father after the Russian Grand Prix because of Max’s retirement from the race, only two weeks before. Max is alone.
The story changes.
FIA 2016 Formula One Regulations
ARTICLE 21: DRIVERS
21.5 Designation:
Alphas and Betas are meant to be treated equally by teams, with equal accommodations and preferences. Discrimination is frowned upon by the FIA. Omegas, while unable to apply for a superlicense, should have equal opportunities in the paddock and be treated with equal accommodations by teams. Failure to provide proper accommodation and supplies will result in a team fine.
21.6 Scent Suppression:
All drivers, regardless of designation, must wear scent blockers of some kind during the race and during press conferences. Failure to have all scents glands effectively covered with scent patches will result in either a disqualification or penalty, depending on the severity. Drivers can choose oral scent suppressants, but valid prescriptions must be submitted prior to race weekend and approved. (See ARTICLE 22: TEAMS for more information on team scent suppression)
21.7 Rut Management:
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Brazilian Grand Prix, November 10th, 2016
Six months after the Spanish Grand Prix.
“— and I am of course, just saying that he could have won much easier if he did not fuck up turn one like he did.”
Nico sighed as he opened the door, the animated voice of Max spilling out into the hallway. In front of him, in their tiny cramped office room that Nico had claimed as soon as he arrived in Brazil on Wednesday, Max sat in one of the office chairs, hands waving wildly as he spoke rapidly, his mouth stumbling just to keep up. The pup still hadn’t noticed him, allowing Nico to take a moment to rest against the doorframe, taking everything in.
Unlike Max, who was immediately free from their press conference, Nico had to then sit in another awful Mercedes meeting discussing the race and championship, where he and Lewis were both strongly reminded of what would happen if they crashed into each other again. As if they needed another reminder.
It meant that Nico was arriving late to their weird pack-not pack group, which also meant that someone else had attempted to make the nest. The office table and other chairs had been pushed to the side of the room, allowing just a miniscule space for a nest. Of course, they were all still learning, but slowly the other drivers had found some semblance of a rhythm to making the nests. Judging by how tightly woven together the blankets were but how randomly arranged the pillows were, it was more than likely Fernando. He hadn’t had press like the rest of them so he had probably already had plenty of time to set up their makeshift nests.
The blankets and pillows were still the cheap ones Ferrari and Red Bull had quickly found when Max had his emergency heat back in Spain, likely picked up just from the nearest 24-hour convenience store that sold emergency heat supply packs. The pillows were more similar to the awful things airplanes gave out for an overnight-flight, with no pillow cases or barely any stuffing. They did nothing to cushion against the walls either, and Nico has spent more hours complaining about his back now than he ever did. The blankets were even worse, scratchy and light, unable to soften the hard wooden floor of the office space. Pack rooms usually were covered in carpet to help make it easier for blankets, but, well. That wasn’t something Nico was working with. The random abandoned office room he claimed by the stewards room was going to have to do. Neutral ground and all of that.
None of the drivers had been willing to contribute their own clothes or blankets for the not-nest nest, but Nico had a feeling he was wearing down on Fernando, the only driver who seemed to actually have a soft spot for Max and wasn’t just here because of either instincts or because Nico strong-armed him.
Nico would offer some of his, but he wasn’t stupid. Max understood anyway and always just stole some of his blankets in their hotel room.
His hands still itched to fix the nest, but instead he only gave an approving nod when he made eye-contact with Fernando. As the season progressed, he had started pushing the other drivers to get experience in making nests, especially for preparation for the next season. Someone still needed to help Max learn more about nests next year, and it better be them.
Everyone had already beaten Nico here. Jenson was laying awkwardly on the ground with his head on a pillow, arms behind his head and eyes closed, as if he could just ignore everything that was happening. Underneath his collar the white gauze of a scent patch peeked out, which Nico rolled his eyes at, but didn’t say anything. For the beta who was only here because Nico bothered him enough about it, Nico would take it as a win, even if he wished Jenson joined the scent blocker protest. He could even still take his scent suppressants like Nico did and ditch the scent patches, but he just had to be lazy.
Next to him lay Fernando, except he chose to rest against the wall, careful to not mess with the blankets behind him. He looked marginally more comfortable, McLaren hat laying next to him and sunglasses tucked into his shirt, no sign of the medical adhesive anywhere. Fernando had been eager to ditch the scent patches when Nico first brought it up those months ago, and now his scent spread comfortably in the air, sharp and spicy. It always made Nico’s nose twitch but Max seemed to like it, lingering around Fernando more than he did with the other drivers at least.
Though, that may have also been because Fernando had been one of the few drivers to treat Max well before he presented, or even just acknowledged him. Nico didn’t think about it much.
Fernando raised an eyebrow at Nico, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips when he noticed his staring. His eyes flicked to the side, and his smirk turned into a grin. Nico raised an eyebrow, eyes shifting to what Fernando was staring at. Of course, it was because Sebestian and Kimi were on the opposite side of the makeshift nest, far away from Fernando, almost leaning outside of the blankets to be close to Max.
Nico’s own lips twitched at how they both looked like they had swallowed lemons, awkward as they hovered by Max. Their scents just barely leaked out enough for proper nest etiquette, but Nico was going to take it over their usual growling and loud sighing about how medically they had to be here and that was the only reason they were there.
Every day Nico bemoaned the fact that it was Seb and Kimi that Max presented next to and medically pack bonded to.
The pup was still spinning in his chair, but Nico noted with a pleased hum how the chair wasn’t that far away from the nest. The chair never even brushed against the blankets, but he wasn’t on the opposite side of the room like last time. They were getting him more comfortable, slowly but surely.
”And I don’t know he was thinking with taking the chicane like that, if Albon was any faster he would have been fucked—“
Inside the room, Fernando’s, Kimi’s, and Seb’s scents mingled, free of the usual scent patches they kept on during racing. Before Max, most of the drivers had been content to keep the scent patches on throughout the entire racing weekend, feeling no need to try and have stupid scent competitions when they would have had to expose their own emotions in it and risk a fine at the same time.
Now though, since Max is still too young in his presentation to wear any form of scent patches without royally fucking up his developing scent glands, some of the drivers have decided to take theirs off in solidarity, mostly with Nico’s insistent reminders. Kimi and Seb were forced to do it so they wouldn’t go into cardiac arrest, but well.
They still did it.
Max’s scent still filled the room, overpowering the others’ in a way that was so distinctly pup it made Nico’s nose still twitch after all this time. The sweet milky scent that was beginning to be replaced by his own scent, something sweet and refreshing that Nico still couldn’t place yet filled the room, a calling card for any potential pack mates. Over time, Max will be able to control his scent, but for now Nico can enjoy how he’s able to smell him so freely, an easy tell to all of Max’s emotions, even if the omega was also just as likely to tell him how he was feeling.
Six months since Max presented as an omega and already Nico could see how far he had grown and with how the court case was beginning to look like, Nico was one step closer to his goal. He just needed to get Max there first.
Which included making sure Max was a functional member of society who understood pack dynamics.
Nico paused by the door, raising an eyebrow as the other drivers turned their heads to him, most of them instinctively dipping their heads while the Ferrari drivers raised their hands in greeting. He’d slowly gotten used to becoming what was essentially the pack alpha of their makeshift group, and while part of him still laughed at the idea, the other part was just thankful the other drivers were willing to play along, or at least, didn’t care enough to put up a fight for the role.
Max needed to see what a healthy pack looked like, and what it meant to have a pack alpha— one who could actually teach him about his designation and proper pack etiquette.
That part Max was still learning.
When Max showed no sign of turning around to the door, Nico sighed again, rolling his eyes fondly while releasing some more of his scent. He’s never been more thankful for how unique his scent was— sharp with just a bit of sweetness, and with the slight dulling from his chemical suppressants, odd enough to pass as a beta's scent. Lewis had once described it as one of his favorite wines, which Nico had promptly smacked him for, cheeks burning. It didn't matter what Lewis thought of it anymore anyway (at least, that’s what Nico told himself), but he did know that Max liked his scent.
There had been many instances where Max had practically collapsed against his neck, nose pressed insistently into his scent gland after a rough day at court where Max had to fight just for the right to drive. He had admitted one night to Nico that his scent was the first one that felt safe, that felt familiar. Max could easily pick out his scent in a crowd, something he has done before, and so he clearly knew Nico was here.
He was just choosing to ignore Nico.
“Ahem.” Nico coughed loudly, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes again when he saw Max’s shoulders hike up, his mouth stumbling over his words. Still, Max didn’t turn around, instead, talking louder, as if he could drown out Nico’s scent and presence with just his voice.
“Really, and he lost so much time at the start. I do not know what he was thinking but clearly it was not much.”
The other drivers looked at him, head cocked and eyebrows raised, and yet still Max didn’t turn around. The pup was definitely rebelling now, blatantly refusing to acknowledge Nico. He knew the pup was struggling with trying to see Nico as the pack alpha, but he still needed to practice proper pack dynamics. Max knew that, and Nico knew that when the pup was really nervous he pushed against the pack dynamic more.
Did not excuse it though.
With a sigh, he pushed off from the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Pup,” he called out, forcing out a semblance of a warning growl while pushing out more of his scent. He was getting better at his growl, which was still an insane thing for Nico to think.
Max froze, head cocking as his voice cut off completely. Nico waited patiently, until finally Max slowly half-turned to him, a blue eye glaring at him beneath the brim of his cap, annoyed.
“Hi, Nico,” Max grumbled, and Nico huffed, unable to keep his smile off his face. The pup was adorable sometimes, like a prickly little hedgehog. Nico could barely comprehend that this was the same driver who would divebomb him in a race.
Nico tipped his head, easing back on his scent as he smiled easily. “Thank you, Max,” he praised, smile growing wider at how quickly Max’s scent turned pleased, almost sweet enough that Nico felt like he could taste it. He knew he should be working more with Max on controlling his scent, especially when he gets too worked up in court and practically drowns the place, but it’s helpful to know he’s happy.
He walked in, making sure to brush his wrist glands against Max’s neck, scenting him a little more thoroughly. Instinctively Max leaned into his hand, his scent mixing with Nico’s, his sweetness turning sharp. Under his scent Nico could still catch traces of different scents from the press conference, other drivers who were joining in solidarity with removing their scent patches. Stubbornly, he didn’t think about how he could catch the faintest hint of Lewis’s scent– woodsy with just a hint of smoke.
Stopping on the edge of the nest, he made sure to wait for Fernando’s approval before stepping in. Everytime felt ridiculous, his own instincts prickling at the idea of asking someone else for permission in entering a nest, especially alphas, but Max needed to learn proper etiquette. Since they didn’t have a proper pack omega– technically at least– that role has mostly just been given to whoever sets up the nest first. It was definitely fucked up having a bunch of alphas and betas pretend to be pack omega, but it was what Nico was working with.
Fernando nodded, his face contorting awkwardly as he tried to make a semblance of an approving purr. It sounded more like a growl choking on marbles, and Nico couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped him. At least he wasn’t the only one still adjusting.
“How was the press conference?” Fernando asked, clasping his hand and accepting the brief scenting of his wrist gland, Nico’s thumb swiping over as he eased down in the spots next to them. Nico hadn’t even tried to scent Seb and Kimi, instead only nodding at them in greeting as he passed them. He had learned from the first time.
“It was fine, just the usual questions,” Nico said with a roll of his eyes, remembering every question aimed at him. How are you feeling leading the championship standings? Do you think you can lengthen your lead? Do you think the team is supporting you or Lewis? Can you beat Lewis?
Jenson made a noise of acknowledgement, shifting slightly to look more at him, gaze curious. Nico knew he was more curious about how he really felt, since he had heard more than most of the others how stressed Nico was over the championship. Jenson had been the one to approach him when he first heard Nico was going to appear in court with Max, to help testify that Max should be able to keep his super license. He had asked why Nico was bothering with it, especially when he had seen how much the championship battle had taken over his life. Nico had just shrugged and asked if Jenson wanted to join his not-pack pack, and that Jenson did not really have the option to say no.
In response, Nico shrugged, shooting him a reassuring smile. Yes, Nico was still stressed about the championship. With only two races left in the season, he had already had to come to terms with what next year had to look like for himself. It had at first felt like defeat, but now, he was just happy that soon it would be over. The sleepless nights were getting to him.
This season turned out so differently than he had predicted, and while winning the championship was still a priority, so was taking care of Max. There was a future for him and omegas in the sport if Nico played his cards right, and he was going to make sure he had a full hand.
Suddenly the noise around his championship battle had become a lot easier to tune out.
Fernando took a quick peek at Max, before leaning towards Nico, lowering his voice. “Were there any more questions about leoncito?” he asked, looking at him seriously.
Nico sighed, closing his eyes in frustration. That was the other part of the press conference he hadn't wanted to think about. The part of the press conference that always made him want to start hissing, the part that had made him desperate to confirm that Max was safe in their little makeshift pack room, that the FIA hadn’t suddenly decided to throw the court case aside and just revoke Max’s superlicense and kick him out.
“Yes,” he finally admitted, opening his eyes just in time to see the alpha and beta scowl, Fernando’s lips curling enough to reveal sharp canines that lengthened in response.
“Fuckers,” Fernando cursed quietly, careful to make sure Max was still busy talking with Kimi and Sebastian. Nico made a noise of agreement, thinking back to some of the questions.
Do you feel that an omega could handle the dangerous conditions of the Brazilian circuit with the weather?
Nico do you feel that going to Max’s court trials has hindered your ability to prepare for the races?
What are your thoughts on more omegas on the grid?
It looks like Max will get to keep his superlicense and continue to race. Do you think it could lead to the FIA regulations changing to allow omegas to apply for a superlicense later?
Questions that made Nico want to scream and pull his hair out, to yell that that is what Nico was hoping for, and instead could only watch as Max sat there quietly, fiddling with his water bottle while the other drivers were asked blatantly about the omega driver. Red Bull and the FIA may have put a messy bandage over the press, blocking any questions towards Max directly about the court case and his designation, but that didn’t stop journalists from asking questions to the other drivers.
At this point Nico had answered more questions about Max than his own championship run.
“How has he been since he got here?” Nico asked, casting another quick glance at Max. The pup was spinning around in his chair, laughing as his foot kept knocking into Kimi’s shoulder. The Finnish driver didn’t flinch, but Nico caught a glimpse of something on the driver’s face. Nico hoped it was a smile. Maybe, slowly, they were wearing down on the Ferrari drivers.
Jenson shrugged. “He’s been fine. Didn’t seem that bothered about the press conference, but that is nothing new. He accepted some light scenting from Sebastian and Kimi, but that was it,” he said casually, though his expression twisted. Nico barely held in his sigh, his own shoulders slumping down in disappointment.
Max was still nauseous around different scents, feeling comfortable only with Nico’s and the two people he accidentally pack bonded to when he presented. The doctors had said it was normal for cases like his, where he had an emergency pack heat, but it didn’t make Nico feel better, and it didn’t help Max’s chances in court where he argued that he was healthy enough to race. Max needed to be able to handle scenting from others, especially with his scent glands still developing. There was only so much Nico, Kimi, and Seb could do.
“He’ll come around,” Nico promised, and Jenson hummed, looking away. Nico barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Betas and their jealousy. The beta didn’t even have his scent out for Max to acknowledge.
“Max did acknowledge my nest at least,” Fernando added, voice smug. Nico smiled, ignoring Jenson’s bitter muttering.
”That’s great!” he exclaimed. A major part of pack etiquette was thanking and respecting the pack omega and the nest. Like every other part of the pack hierarchy, Max was struggling with it. He would always complain that it didn’t make sense since the nests weren’t even made by real omegas, to which Nico would then scruff the back of his head and remind him that this was what Nico was working with and he still needed to learn.
However, out of all the pack etiquette rules, this was the one Nico tried to give the most leniency for, because even he struggled with acknowledging the nest. It was just weird thanking an alpha for it and treating them like a pack omega.
Fernando nodded, before his expression turned sly. “However, he has been very busy talking about a certain young driver.”
Nico groaned. He could feel his scent rising up, souring in annoyance, and really, he should make sure Max didn’t smell it because he was still sensitive, but fuck, he was so tired of it.
Charles Leclerc. Nico would love to say his name wrong, or mess up his last name, accidentally call him Chuck Leclerc or Charles Leclair, but he couldn’t. He’d heard the name too damn much to mess it up.
Max, for some reason, could not stop talking about the driver. Whether he was complaining about a weird instagram post he saw, his recent times on track, or even what helmut the other kid was wearing, Nico heard it all. In between their own races and court cases and doctor visits, Nico was an unwilling sound board to every comment Max made about the other driver.
It was almost enough to make Nico wish for the stilted silence between him and Lewis.
Fernando hummed. “Apparently the kid is here, planning to do some practice sessions for Haas.”
Nico sighed, already wishing for ear plugs. Max talked more when the kid was in proximity, like his little radar was beeping the entire time. There was no way Nico was going to get sleep in his hotel room tonight.
“Do you think Seb or Kimi would be willing to house Max this weekend?” he asked wearily, and Fernando snorted.
“Absolutely not.” Nico turned to see Kimi staring at him, eyes lidded. His scent, minty and cool, curled around him as he scowled at Nico. Max, completely oblivious to half of his conversation leaving, prattled on to a Sebastian who was looking more and more tired and more and more annoyed.
Nico looked at Kimi sweetly, trying for a smile. “Come on, Kimi. Doesn’t your special little contract require you to spend an extended period of time together? Make sure you don’t accidentally die or something?” While Nico had never seen the contract Red Bull and Ferrari were forced to draw up, he had heard about it enough to know the basics of it. It was the only reason Kimi and Seb were here, after all.
Emergency pack bonds were always so finicky at best, and detrimental at worst.
Kimi only stared back, expression not changing. “Max and I are fine. I have already scented him enough.” Nico didn’t hold back his scowl. That was such bullshit. Kimi still looked paler than normal.
He huffed, crossing his arms as Fernando didn’t even try to hide his laugh, patting his shoulder in solidarity. “Cheer up, Britney,” Jenson said, ignoring Nico’s warning huff, “he’s mostly finished with talking about Leclerc’s last race already. He might actually run out of things to say!”
Nico opened his mouth to reply, maybe even snap back that Max has yet to run out of things to talk about with Charles’s tyres so he really doubted it, when Max spoke up, finally noticing the other conversation happening without him.
“Are you guys talking about Charles?” he asked bluntly, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he leaned towards the group. He balanced precariously in his office chair, body leaning forward enough to hover over the blankets outlining the nest. Nico’s hands itched to pull him in, Fernando’s nest making etiquette be damned.
“No,” Nico replied just as Fernando answered back with a “yes”. Nico shot the other driver a glare, who only shrugged. Max leaned forward eagerly, almost falling out of the chair. Seb used the opportunity to inch away from Max, backing up until he hit the wall next to Kimi, the beta breathing out a sigh of relief.
Max didn’t notice, hands already waving in the air. “Did you see his last race? It was of course stupid the way that he handled it.” Even as he scowled, his scent sweetened just slightly. Next to him, both Kimi and Seb’s shoulders relaxed, their bodies reacting instinctively to the pleased scent, a slight flush crawling across their cheeks.
“Max,” Nico sighed, trying to figure out how to politely tell the kid to shut the fuck up and that no, they were Formula One drivers why would they follow a random Formula Two driver, when three loud knocks rang out.
Instinctively Nico’s scent soured while Max brightened up, springing from the chair just as the door creaked open.
“GP!” Max crowed, and the alpha stepped in. The other drivers in the nest stiffened, and Jenson even sat up, eyes never leaving the Red Bull engineer as he approached.
Max met him halfway, already clutching his water bottle and barely sparing the nest a second glance. GP didn’t even look their way, gaze never leaving Max, a small smile on his face.
“Hey, Max,” GP said, easily handling the lanky teenager that almost barreled into him in his haste. Instinctively Nico wanted to yell out about pack space and pack distance, but instead he only glowered. The last time he tried to remind Max about overarching pack manners and cultural rules, especially when talking about Red Bull, Max had put on his headphones and refused to listen to anything he said for over two days. An email from Red Bull was in his inbox the next morning, politely reminding him that Max was under Red Bull’s care first and foremost, and that if Nico tried to interfere with how they treated their driver then they would have no problems supporting Hamilton’s championship bid.
Nico hadn’t even known how to respond.
The alpha laid a steadying hand on Max’s shoulder, close to where Max’s glands were. It made Nico twitch, and the only comfort he had was the white adhesive peeking out from beneath GP’s collar, just like on Jenson. While the drivers may get away with their scent patch protests, teams wouldn't be able to handle the fines for every team member. Red Bull, no matter how much they wanted to, could never be Max’s pack. “It’s time to go debrief.”
Nico didn’t hide his scowl. “Max,” he called out sharply, flaring his own scent and biting back the instinctual urge to hiss. Next to him Kimi and Seb had shifted, their own scents turning sour as their bodies probably began to itch, their pack bonds fraying. Knowing the two idiots, they hadn’t fully scented Max yet, pushing it off to the last minute.
Max’s shoulders hiked up to his ears, but stubbornly, he refused to turn around. “I have to go debrief,” Max said instead, his lisp catching on his words and even with his back turned, Nico could hear the pout. Kimi let out a small growl.
“Max,” Nico sighed, “just come back and let us scent you before you go, alright?” It sounded much more like a plea than he would have liked. He tried for a smile.
Finally, GP spoke up. “He only needs to be scented by Kimi and Seb, correct,” he said, stating it more than asking. While his face remained carefully calm, the perfectly composed engineer face already slid on, his grip on Max’s shoulder tightened.
Nico’s smile tightened, his eyes narrowing. “That is technically correct, yes,” he said, and GP hummed, satisfied, releasing his grip on Max’s shoulder.
Red Bull had clearly made it known how much they hated the driver’s coalition, as they called it, even if they knew it was Max’s saving grace. That didn’t mean they were nice about it. Nico would want to complain and push back, if Red Bull hadn’t also been the ones willing to help file the lawsuit against the FIA when they tried to remove Max’s super license.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or something like that.
Max, with a small pout on his face, trudged back over, trying to act huffy even when his scent lightened considerably the closer he got to Seb and Kimi, a rosy flush appearing on his cheeks as his body recognized his pack mates.
Seb and Kimi also looked much better, shoulders relaxing as Max awkwardly hovered over the nest, bending at the waist to shove his neck towards the two Ferrari drivers. Nico watched as his face scrunched up, like he was holding his breath. Quickly, the two Ferrari drivers surged forward, as if a wall had finally been torn down, the two quickly scenting each side of Max’s throat, cheeks brushing almost roughly against Max with how much they were scenting him.
Their scents bloomed together, Kimi’s wintergreen mixing with Seb’s own bright scent and Max’s sweetened milky scent filling the air. Nico tried to be really calm about not being part of it, and judging by how Jenson and Fernando shifted next to him, they probably weren’t happy either.
Seb whispered something in Max’s ear, a playful grin on his face that had Max’s eyes crinkling in delight, a loud laugh escaping him. Nico’s eye twitched.
If Lewis hadn’t been such an idiot in Barcelona, Nico would have been with Max on the podium. Nico would have pack bonded with Max.
By the door, GP coughed loudly, a polite smile on his face. His eyes were hard.
“Max, the debrief,” he reminded, eyes softening as Max immediately straightened up, flush instantly beginning to die down into a healthy glow. He didn’t look as pale as he did when Nico first came in, but likely he would need to spend some more time with Kimi and Seb. Judging by the way the two drivers immediately frowned, they would need to as well.
Max turned to head back to GP, barely sparing a glance at the other drivers, when Nico reached out, snatching his wrist. He ignored GP’s gaze on him as he jerked Max back, smiling when the young pup stumbled with a gasp, right into the nest.
Fernando made an aborted noise, as if trying to remember to do the proper purr, but Nico didn’t care, instead smiling innocently at Max who gawked at him, eyes wide.
“You can’t just bring me into the nest!” Max hissed, eyes darting around widely as he stood there, practically frozen in place. Even as he complained his scent bloomed, curling around the nest in a way that had Nico greedily inhaling.
“You can’t ignore the nest every time, Max,” Nico said instead of answering, still sitting on the ground and looking up at Max. His wrist was still held loosely in his grasp, and Nico took the opportunity to swipe his thumb over the wrist glands, scenting Max thoroughly. Just like he had done with Fernando.
At the scenting, Max ripped his wrist back, but the damage was done. Nico and Fernando’s scent mixed on to Max’s wrist gland, twisting around his arm. Now, he smelled thoroughly of the drivers, both on his neck and his wrists, and Nico couldn’t help but smile, smug. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw GP’s face morph into a scowl.
“I’ll see you at the hotel tonight,” Nico said to the bright red Max, who was now furiously refusing to look at any of the drivers. Max nodded stiffly, before jumping out of the nest, practically folding his body to make sure he didn’t accidentally touch Kimi or Seb on his way out. He scurried back to GP, who raised his arm, allowing Max to slot neatly underneath. His arm rested next to Max’s neck glands, but again, he didn’t touch, only hovered.
He couldn’t of course, and it only made Nico’s grin wider as he waved wiggling fingers at GP.
“See you tonight!” he called out, grinning just as GP sent a glare back as the door shut behind.
As soon as the door shut Jenson sighed next to him. “You realize he isn’t actually your pup, right? This is embarrassing for you.”
Nico’s cheeks flushed red. “I know!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms as he went to lean back against the wall. Stubbornly he refused to acknowledge Fernando’s raised eyebrow. He huffed. “I just want to remind Red Bull that they need us. No need for them to get cocky.”
Max was not Nico’s pup. He knew that. Max was a means to an end for Nico, an ace in his sleeve that Nico planned to win with. Didn’t mean he was just going to let other people mess with his ace.
“Uh huh.” Jenson laughed, sly grin creeping across his face. “If he’s this insane now, imagine how Nico is going to react when Max’s crush is actually a driver on the grid.”
Fernando laughed and even the two Ferrari drivers cracked a smile, Seb chuckling. Nico felt like cold water had been poured down his back.
“Crush? What are you talking about?” It felt even ridiculous saying the word crush, as if they were silly teenagers and not adults in their twenties and thirties. Nico felt so fucking old.
The drivers stilled, and Fernando raised an eyebrow, amused. “You know, the obvious puppy crush he has on the driver, the one he would not stop talking about.”
When Nico only stared at him blankly, Jenson sent him a look. “The one he was just talking about.”
“No!” Nico exclaimed, eyes growing wide. “That was just his old rival, of course he was going to talk about him like this.”
There was no way Max had a crush. Max always talked about Charles in regard to his racing, talking about his times and his past races, the instagram posts were always about Charles’s recent win, and yeah Max talked about his different helmets but that was so he could then complain about how it hid Charles’s hair. He sounded exactly like Nico had been a couple of years ago about Lewis–
“Oh, fuck.” Nico’s eyes widened. “He likes Charles Leclerc.”
“There we go, he’s figured it out,” Jenson laughed, delighted, but Nico could only stare at the door in horror, wishing he could just run out and grab Max back.
Nico was not ready to have that conversation. Max was still just a pup! Most people presented from 10-13, and so then their pack had at least a couple of years to properly teach them pack etiquette and proper courting before the pup actually dared to try anything. Max presented late though, and of course his father had never taught him even anything about packs, and Nico could barely even get the pup to remember or choose to acknowledge the pack alpha, and he hadn’t even thought about alphas or betas trying to court Max, and–
He whirled to Fernando, scent spiking. “Is Charles single?” he asked urgently, and Fernando laughed, shaking his head.
“No idea.”
Nico groaned in frustration, frantically pulling out his phone to search up Is Charles Leclerc single. The one thing he never heard Max talk about.
“Why should it matter?” Seb asked suddenly, leaning slightly towards the other drivers. Nico would find it suspicious that Seb seemed interested in something in Max’s life, but he knew it was just because the beta was interested in the drama. “Who cares if the kid gets courted or not?”
At that, Jenson laughed, and Nico shot him a glare from the corner of his eye. “Are you serious?” he snapped, and Jenson shrugged, placing his hands behind his head.
“The kid has to learn about the birds and the bees sometime,” he said, and Nico’s eye twitched.
“Yeah, sure,” Nico hummed pleasantly, saccharine sweet, “but maybe not when he still doesn’t even know how to handle his own pack.” He barely held back from hissing, instead choosing to glare at the beta, who still looked unbothered. Fernando had gone quiet, but his face was unreadable.
His phone pinged, results piling up and Nico glanced down. Charles Leclerc, the new reserve driver for Haas, is an alpha coming from Monaco. On Ferrari’s Junior Team, the young alpha is currently not dating anyone–
Nico sighed, closing his eyes in frustration. Of course. “He’s single,” he announced glumly, and instead of the concern he hoped to receive, he was instead only met by laughter. He opened his eyes in shock to see even Fernando and Kimi chuckling, the two alphas.
“Really?” Nico glared at both Fernando and Kimi. “You are not bothered at all by the fact that Max might be courted one day?” If Lewis had been here, Nico knew he would have understood the horror of a potential courting.
If Max was courted by another driver, by anyone honestly, it could completely ruin Nico’s plans for the driver restrictions to change. All of the court cases he’s sat through, the late nights reading legal briefings, the small hope that has been building in his chest, all of it would have been for nothing. Furiously, Nico did not think about the part of him that hissed at the thought of Max, barely 18, cheeks flushed and scent still like a pup’s, being courted. He did not think about what Max would look like with a bite on his neck, someone else’s scent covering Max, drowning out Nico’s scent.
He turned to Kimi. “The kid is on the Ferrari’s junior program,” he said, eyes pleading. Maybe Kimi could scare the younger alpha off, use his position in Ferrari to remind him to stay in line and away from blonde Red Bull drivers. “Maybe you could talk to him.”
Kimi snorted, raising an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “Nico, I do not care what the kid chooses to do, or who he chooses to fuck, as long as he does not continue to try and kill me on track.” He pointed at his neck, right where his glands were already beginning to flush red again, irritation growing. “I am only here because the brat accidentally bonded with me. He is not my actual pup.”
Red flooded Nico’s cheeks, especially as he felt most of the group’s gaze landing on him. Next to Kimi, Seb had shifted up, a knowing gleam in his eyes as he smirked at Nico, amused.
“Yeah, Nico,” Seb drawled, leaning closer. His head cocked to the side, revealing his own bright red scent glands, angry and just as swollen as Kimi’s. Max’s scent had begun to fade, the milky scent growing fainter and fainter. “We’re just here so we don’t die.” Nico could practically hear the unasked and what are you doing here, but stubbornly he refused to acknowledge it.
“You cannot seriously think that if Max gets courted that will go well for you,” he argued, gaze flicking between the two Ferrari drivers quickly. Behind him he heard Jenson chuckle, but Nico did not even bother with the beta.
Jenson was not someone he could reliably trust to help Max, as he and Jenson have had far too many conversations about a life after driving, and Nico knew the beta’s attention was being pulled in different directions. Jenson would likely not be at the paddock for long. Fernando could be someone who could help, and truly does seem to like Max, but if Charles is aiming for Ferrari, then Kimi and Seb were the ones standing in his way. Seb and Kimi also had a medical dependency on Max. They had to help.
Nico, against any wishes, had to rely on them.
Seb shrugged, propping an arm on Kimi’s shoulder as he checked his nails, far too aware that he had something Nico wanted. Nico, not for the first time, wanted to strangle the driver. “Maybe, but it would not be the worst. The contract Ferrari and Red Bull signed made it very clear that we only had to stay close enough to make sure the little emergency pack bond Verstappen forced on us ran its course and no one got hurt. Once it’s over, we’ll never have to see the kid again.”
Nico’s eyes narrowed as Seb hummed, grin turning sharp. “Besides, he might be Red Bull’s golden boy now, but I still have Horner’s private cell.” His scent spread out, like fire and oranges, as if he was still the golden sun praised. Pettily, Nico wanted to scrunch his nose but infuriatingly it was a good scent.
Kimi huffed, and Nico’s eyes flicked to him, his brow furrowing. Seb was never going to like Max, jealousy and bitterness wrapped far too much in his weird hook up about Red Bull’s golden boy legacy or whatever nonsense he always complained about, but Kimi didn’t have as much skin in the game.
“Kimi?” Nico tried again, letting his own scent escape, allowing just a bit more of the sweetness to cling to his skin. Kimi didn't even twitch, instead only looking at him boredly.
“I do not care what the kid gets up to. I do not care about this Leclerc or whoever. In a years’ time, I will not even be packbonded with Verstappen anymore. I will have no part in this.”
Fuck.
FIA 2017 Formula One Regulations
ARTICLE 21: DRIVERS
21.5 Designation:
Alphas and Betas and Omegas are meant to be treated equally by teams, with equal accommodations and preferences. Discrimination is frowned upon by the FIA. Omegas, while unable to apply for a superlicense, should have equal opportunities in the paddock and be treated with equal accommodations by teams. Failure to provide proper accommodation and supplies will result in a team fine.
21.6 Scent Suppression:
All drivers, regardless of designation, must wear scent blockers of some kind during the race, unless medically exempt. Failure to have all scents glands effectively covered with scent patches will result in either a disqualification or penalty, depending on the severity. Drivers can choose oral scent suppressants, but valid prescriptions must be submitted prior to race weekend and approved. (See ARTICLE 22: TEAMS for more information on team scent suppression)
21.7 Presentation:
If a driver presents during race weekend, teams must provide the necessary accommodations for the designation. The driver, until they are medically incapable, has the authority to choose who can help them during their presentation. Failure to abide by the wishes will result in fines, penalty, or disqualification, depending on the severity. Depending on the designation, drivers could be asked to be reevaluated following the season’s ending. This is up to the FIA’s discretion.
21.8 Rut Management:
[File Continues On To the Next Page. Press the NEXT button to read more.]
Formula One Mid-Season Test, Hungaroring, August 1st, 2017
Fifteen months after the 2016 Spanish Grand Prix.
Charles ran into Kimi Räikkönen. He’s trying to be cool about it, mostly because he’s also kind of busy. As soon as he saw his time at the top of the board and where Max landed (11th!) he knew he had to go rub it in his face. He didn’t care if Max had spent most of the morning trying to fix the RB13; Charles still beat him.
Still, he skidded in place immediately, stopping two meters away and dipping his head easily in acknowledgement of the other alpha. The other reserve drivers have started gossiping about some kind of “grid pack”, which sounded ridiculous, but Charles wasn’t going to take chances. Frantically, he tried to remember anything about Finnish pack dynamics. Nordic pack dynamics were similar to Europe’s, right?
Thankfully, Kimi only grunted, tipping his head back in acknowledgement. His scent didn’t change, still that sharp wintergreen that has Charles’s nose instinctively crinkling. He really got where the nickname “Ice Man” came from. Charles was still getting used to so many of the drivers not having scent blockers during race weekends now, the scents sometimes jarring. Formula Two drivers were still required to wear scent blockers at all times unless recently presented, and every time he was near another Formula One driver it felt like whiplash. Thankfully, Charles could only smell Kimi’s scent, no confusing packmate scents rubbing off on the driver. Some of the scents Charles had picked up from the other drivers were just plain nauseating, and Charles had struggled to keep a straight face.
It was silent, and Charles was just beginning to think maybe that was all Kimi wanted, and he could hopefully keep going on his mission. He was pretty sure he saw Red Bull’s set up around the corner. Then, Kimi spoke, crossing his arms. “How was the car?”
Charles blinked. His brain stalled, because that was the most he’s heard Kimi speak. “Uh, good? It was different than I was expecting, but I think I still managed it.” He didn’t add that he knew he managed it. He didn’t want to come across as egotistical to Kimi, even if it was true.
Kimi was going to be either a future teammate or at least a future competitor; no need to start on the wrong foot.
Kimi hummed, and Charles shot him one of his innocent smiles, the ones where he knew his dimples were showing. Take the bait, old man. Let Charles leave. He tried to keep his scent pleasant, still unused to not having to wear scent patches out of the car, but he knew his scent was nice. He got too many compliments for him to smell bad.
“Max also did well on his debut,” Kimi mentioned, as if he was talking about the weather, and Charles’s brow furrowed.
“Max got 12th in Free Practice at Suzuka in 2014,” he said instinctively, because he knew exactly Max’s times. He was not faster than Charles. Sure he had to retire early because of engine failure but still. Charles, painfully, did not think of the rest of that weekend. He did not think about how he could have lost Jules and Max that weekend.
Kimi’s expression softened. He almost looked regretful. “I hadn’t realized that was his first run,” he said, and Charles took the apology for what it was, nodding his head. He knew Kimi was probably remembering the race, and he knew Kimi was probably remembering the godson of Jules.
Charles was still the godson of Jules, the son of his father, and the future driver of Ferrari. He was also still faster than Max.
He lifted his chin, letting just a bit more of his own scent leak out. “I was faster than Max on track.” He didn’t add the and I’ll be faster than you too, but he hoped Kimi got it.
Kimi raised an eyebrow. “You think you’ll be faster than him in an actual race?”
Charles didn’t even flinch, a grin growing. “I’ve beaten him before easily. I’ll do it again.”
He couldn’t wait to actually go against Max again, to beat him and remind him who was faster. Just because Max got to Formula One first didn’t mean Charles couldn’t overtake him. They still had so many laps together.
His scent spread, pleased as he imagined the different races between them, imagining rossa corsa overtaking navy blue, imagining grinning down at a scowling Max from the top step of the podium, imagining spraying him with champagne and laughing–
“You’re sure you can keep up?” Charles blinked, furrowing his brow at Kimi, who stood there, expression suddenly unreadable and arms crossed.
Somehow, Charles felt like the conversation had shifted. Quickly, he schooled his expression into something polite. “Sorry?”
Kimi grunted, eyeing Charles as if he was in a new light. “You said you’ll beat him. You’re sure you can even keep up?”
Charles opened his mouth, but Kimi spoke again, wintergreen curling around him in a way that made Charles suddenly feel cold. “You’re impressive, but not that impressive. Who’s to say you’ll even get to race him again?”
That felt like a threat, and Charles barely resisted the urge to growl, to spread his scent and posture. He was raised better than that, and he honestly wasn’t sure how the Finnish alpha would react. He wasn’t going to risk the man tattling to Ferrari about him. The red of his polo and his hat was a warning to Charles, a reminder that Kimi had what Charles was bleeding for, trading out his own blood for rosso corsa. Kimi had everything Charles wanted.
Instead, Charles only managed a polite smile back. “I will.” He said simply, as if it was fact. It was fact. “I’ve been racing against Max all my life.” The I’ve been racing him longer than you have went unsaid.
Max was annoying. Max was the stupid teenager that kept beating Charles. Max was the same boy that Charles loved zooming past, because then Max would come up after that race and yell at him. Max was his rival. Charles would always find a way to race Max.
Kimi stared at him, silently, eyes assessing. Charles stared back, eyes hard. Finally, Kimi must have found something, because he grunted, scent softening. He jerked his thumb behind him. “Kid is that way.” It almost looked like he smiled. “Go tell him your times.”
Charles smiled, and as he walked by him, he swore he smelled something sweet, like caramel. If that was one of Kimi’s packmates, then they smelled delightful.
Charles turned the corner to find Max, and his grin widened, turning sharp. The omega was sitting off by himself on an old crate, no Red Bull staff in sight and angrily sipping his water bottle. He had already dressed out of his racing suit, like Charles, except Max had put on those atrociously tight skinny jeans he always seemed to be wearing, feet angrily bouncing against the crate.
He was probably still pissed after the engine issues judging by the burnt tinge to his scent. It reminded Charles of burnt caramel, and instinctively his nose crinkled. Since the scent patch protest happened during Max’s presentation, Max may have never actually worn scent patches before. At the very least he didn’t seem concerned with how much his scent wafted around him. It was much more prominent than Kimi’s or the other drivers Charles had run into, at least.
As he headed towards him he watched as Max’s own shoulders tensed, his head springing up to eye Charles suspiciously. He must have smelled Charles’s own scent, which was now curling around the air, pleased and smug.
“Charles,” Max greeted cautiously, his lisp catching on Charles’s name the same it always has, ever since they were kids. It only made Charles’s grin widen.
“Max,” he said pleasantly, stopping a meter or two away from the omega, respecting the pack space. Max’s shoulders lowered at the space, and he fully turned to Charles, head cocked.
“Did you need something?” he asked suspiciously, and Charles hummed, rocking on his heels. “No,” he said, pleased, “just wanted to ask you how 11th tasted like.”
Instantly, the Red Bull driver flushed, expression transforming into a scowl. “You are of course stupid if you think mid-season testing times are a race,” he snapped, but his scent spiking said otherwise.
Charles cocked his head, grin never leaving. It was so easy to piss him off. “So you don’t want to know what my time was?”
The omega scoffed, jumping down from the crate and crossing his arms. “I do not care that you set the fastest time–”
Charles’s grin widened as Max cut himself off, the red traveling from his cheeks to his ears. “Uh huh.”
Setting the fastest time was just another stepping stone for Charles, and doing it in the Ferrari was exactly where he was meant to be. It was nice to remind Max of that again.
Max snorted, his scent settling as he leveled Charles a look, the flush on his cheeks disappearing. “Your times will be topped tomorrow, I am sure. Kimi or Seb will take their seat back.” Absently, Max scratched his neck, thumbing his pack gland.
Instantly, Charles quickly glanced away, cheeks flushing. He couldn’t believe Max was doing that in public. When Max’s words registered he scowled, his scent souring at the reminder that his seat wasn’t permanent. Max could be so annoying sometimes.
The mention of Kimi had him unsettled after his weird conversation with the Finnish driver, and the way Max talked about them made him pause.
He had thought that the other reserve drivers were just talking shit, but he remembered hearing about the 2016 Spanish Grand Prix. How the podium celebrations were quickly canceled when Max presented. Every driver in F2 and F3 had eagerly followed along with the case, checking to see if suddenly Red Bull was going to be in need of a new driver or not. Charles hadn’t cared one way or another, rosso corsa already in his veins, but when his friends had complained about the final results where Omega Max Verstappen got to keep his superlicense, Charles had nodded, satisfied.
There was no world where Max would not have raced.
Still, there was a picture from the final day in court that Charles remembered, Max in a business suit that didn’t seem to fit him, with other drivers surrounding him. Charles hadn’t really paid much attention, liking the photo and moving on, but now he desperately tried to remember if he saw a blonde haired man there or not.
“Is Kimi your pack?” he blurted out, face instantly flushing as Max’s own face flushed in return.
“Charles!” he gasped, and Charles winced. He could feel his mother already scolding him, scruffing the back of his head.
“Tu ne demandes jamais quelqu'un pour leur meute!”
“You started it!” he shot back, and when Max only glared back at him, he made a strangled noise, gesturing towards his neck, a weak copy of what Max had only done minutes prior. It got the point across though, because Max spluttered, eyes growing wide. He jerked, as if he was going to take a step forward, and instinctively, Charles took a step back.
If he accidentally entered Max’s pack circle his maman was actually going to kill him. Max noticed, and it only made his face even redder. “I was not saying that Kimi was my pack– I mean Räikkönen is just another driver,” he said quickly, hands moving quick and words tripping over each other, “he is of course a good driver and naturally I see him at the paddock but that is all.” His hand flew up to his neck again, awkwardly hovering before Max dropped it uselessly.
Charles could only stare wide-eyed, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Kimi Räikkönen and Max Verstappen might be pack. Was that why Kimi seemed so interested in Charles’s thoughts on Max? He hadn’t even questioned it, too busy trying not to freak out over Kimi Räikkönen talking to him to wonder why the fuck was Kimi Räikkönen asking him about Max Verstappen. But now that he thought about, why the fuck did Kimi Räikkönen ask him about Max Verstappen?
“What is it to you?” Max shot back, and Charles blinked, startled. “You want to be Ferrari so bad you dreaming about being their pack?” Max looked like he regretted the words as soon as they came out, shame coloring his scent, but Charles growled, face hot.
“Fuck you!” he snapped back, stamping furiously down on the embarrassment attempting to crawl up his own face. Max was the one who said that, not him. Max was the one who insulted his entire pack, not him. Max was the bitch, not him.
“Fuck you!” Max hissed back, his lip curling. His nose turned in the air, voice haughty. “Kimi does not like most people. You are of course already annoying. Always he will not like you.”
Charles threw his hands up, not even hiding his growl. “I don’t care about if he likes me or not!” he exclaimed, “I don’t want to be in his stupid pack.”
He knew his scent was spreading out, angry and heavy and bumping against Max’s, but he couldn’t care. Max just got to do whatever he wanted, spreading his scent everywhere, blatantly touching his pack glands in public, hissing and lounging around like a spoiled omega–
Max rolled his eyes, huffing. “You are so frustrating. Always just an annoyance.”
Charles snorted, narrowing his eyes. “And you never know when to shut up.”
Mon dieu, Charles had come over to just rub his times in Max’s face, and now they were arguing about a stupid hypothetical pack? He hated Max. Max’s face twisted into something angry, and even from a couple of meters away Charles could smell the burnt caramel spreading out just like his own scent. Briefly, he wondered if the two were mixing, Charles’s own sea salt mixing with Max’s not-caramel-caramel.
Max opened his mouth again, probably ready to prove how he never can shut up, when suddenly he stopped, his nose twitching. His head cocked, and then his eyes widened, body turning away from Charles.
“GP!” he cheered, scent changing so fast Charles had to take a step back, nose crinkling at the sudden whiplash. Next to Max, his engineer appeared, scent so faint Charles could barely smell the alpha. Out of his collar the familiar white of a scent patch peeked out. Even though the FIA had loosened restrictions on scent patches and suppressants for drivers, teams still had to face strict restrictions or risk getting a fine for the rest of their staff. He knew Red Bull had been contesting it, but honestly Red Bull seemed to be contesting everything now. They were just annoying like that. Just like their driver.
“Hello, Max,” GP said, his arm lifting perfectly for Max to duck under, his hand settling on his shoulder, close enough to his neck that Charles shifted uncomfortably at. He didn’t even know how to handle how quickly GP appeared next to Max. Charles wasn’t even sure if he saw Max invite him into his pack circle space.
“Is everything alright?” As he asked Max, his eyes flicked to Charles, assessing. His expression didn’t shift, but somehow Charles felt like he was found lacking. Irrationally, he wanted to point at Max and yell he started it!
Max nodded, leaning back into GP’s arms. “Yep,” he popped his lips, barely even sparing Charles a glance. “Just talking about times.”
GP hummed, beginning to turn the two of them back to the Red Bull garage. “Well, we need to discuss yours. Ready?”
From behind, Charles could see Max nod vigorously, his scent turning pleased. Charles frowned, his own scent souring slightly. He wasn’t done rubbing it in Max’s face. GP didn’t even turn back, but Charles saw Max’s head turn slightly in acknowledgment.
Narrowed green met smug blue as Max brought his hand behind his back. He flipped Charles off.
Putain. He hated Max.
Later, as Charles scrolled through his instagram on his bed, he paused as a clip of Kimi talking about practice popped up. With his sunglasses and Ferrari cap still on, he looked exactly like the alpha Charles had ran into earlier that day.
The microphone was shoved into his face, the reporter asking, “And how do you feel about Charles Leclerc’s performance today?”
Charles scoffed, rolling his eyes. Based on his conversation with Kim, the alpha was probably going to say something like he was too slow or that he would never be good enough. Annoyingly, he could still picture Verstappen’s voice in his head, his lisp catching on his words in a way that Charles could for some reason never ignore. “Kimi does not like most people. You are of course already annoying. Always he will not like you.”
Whatever; Charles will just push him off the track next time.
In the video, Kimi shrugged, adjusting his sunglasses as he hummed. “It's not easy to do well in a different car from what you normally drive", he said, and Charles froze. The Ferrari driver looked completely unbothered, but when Charles squinted, it almost looked like he was smiling. Charles’s mouth dropped open. “For sure he will do great things in the future.”
Charles, so startled, dropped his phone on his face. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, scrambling to sit up in bed and grab his phone from where it fell. The video was still playing, Kimi’s voice repeating again and again.
“It’s not easy to do well in a different car from what you normally drive–”
“For sure he will do great things in the futu–”
Charles paused the video, a bright grin overtaking his features. His scent spiked in the hotel room. He might get a cleaning fee for it, but he couldn’t care, instead too busy liking the post and copying the link.
He knew exactly who to send it to.
Scrolling through whatsapp he searched for a contact he prayed hadn’t changed since they had been added to a group chat together from years passed.
Messages and calls are end-to-end encrypted. Only people in this chat can read, listen to, or share them. Learn more
Me: [LINK sent]
Me: Kimi would never like me, huh?
Me: Guess your packmates recognize
someone who ‘will do greats in the future’
He grinned, watching as the message was read, the checkmarks appearing quickly. A small whoosh sounded as Max texted back.
Max Verstappen (the annoying Dutch racer): >:(
Max Verstappen (the annoying Dutch racer): he is of course stupid
Max Verstappen (the annoying Dutch racer): and he is not my packmate
Charles could perfectly imagine Max right now, his nose scrunching like it did when they were kids, lips twisting into a pout just like when he didn’t get first. He couldn’t help but poke more, thumbs flying over his screen before he could think. If his maman found out what he was texting about, insinuating packbonds about someone, especially an omega, Charles was dead. But, it was Max.
Charles couldn’t not make fun of Max for this.
A small part of him wondered where Max was, if he was also laying in some hotel room, scratchy sheets against his skin. He wondered if just like at the paddock, Max’s scent just hung in the air, no sign of scent patches or any hint of chemical suppressants.
Maybe Max was even imagining what Charles was like too.
Me: He’s a world driver champion
Me: He drives for Ferrari
Max Verstappen (the annoying Dutch racer): exactly.
Me: You’re just embarrassed that you
have to be scented by a Ferrari driver
A laugh escaped him before he could even think. Max was too easy to rile up.
Max Verstappen (the annoying Dutch racer) is typing…
Several countries over, Nico meticulously applied his face wash to his skin with one hand while he brushed his teeth with his other when his phone dinged. He paused, grabbing it and scrolling past some messages from Max that he would read later, too tired to deal with that many exclamation points and angry faces.
His eyebrow quirked at who texted him, scent peaking in curiosity. Alone in his apartment, safe from straying noses or pesky reporters, Nico let his actual scent out, the sweet wine filling the bathroom, scent patches thrown in the trash and suppressants washed out of his system. There was no one to accuse the 2016 Formula One World Driver Champion of being an omega.
Clicking on the messages, he hummed, toothbrush still in his mouth. He and Kimi hadn’t spoke much this week, aside from sending each other small updates on Max. Most of the drivers were still respecting Nico’s complete lack of involvement with this F1 season, only showing up to make sure Red Bull and the FIA were still honoring the revised regulations and to make sure Max was ok. It was mid-season testing week, which Nico was still gearing up to hear about from Max when he came to see him this weekend.
Still, he wondered what Kimi had to say about it.
Kimi (pack): [LINK sent]
Kimi (pack): talked with Charles today
Kimi (pack): the kid isn’t that bad actually
Nico’s toothbrush fell out of his mouth, the article Kimi sent showing the face of none other than Charles Leclerc, testing out the SF70H, and getting the fastest time of the day.
That bastard.