Work Text:
George surveyed his new apartment with satisfaction. It had two bedrooms, a large bathroom, a kitchen and a living room with access to a balcony with a beautiful view of the sea and a small garden on the territory of the residential complex. The apartment wasn't that big, but spacious and cozy, so when George saw it, he didn't think twice and signed the lease almost immediately, after which he moved his things as quickly as possible. Fortunately, he had enough time, the winter break was very useful.
After breaking up with his girlfriend right at the end of the season, George realized that being in the old apartment became unbearable. Yes, they had split up by mutual consent and decided to remain good friends, but that didn't change the obvious fact that George was sad and lonely. After all, it was a long-term, dear relationship, and literally everything in the previous apartment reminded George of the bright time spent together with his beloved girlfriend at that time.
George had thought she was the one, but fate had decided otherwise. Constant travel, a busy career, stress, differences of interests, a growing number of quarrels over trifles and more – all of this led to an obvious but still painful breakup.
George didn't want to continue moping around and rethinking his life while staring at familiar walls, so a change of scenery was the logical decision. Charles, who had recently moved into a new building, advised George to contact his estate agent, and by lucky coincidence, there was a vacant apartment in the Charles building, only on the floor above. It seemed that luck was finally on George's side.
But the Brit hadn't considered one small detail that could have disrupted his peaceful life in his new apartment and brought a bit of chaos – his neighbors. More specifically, one particular neighbor.
“You've got to be kidding,” George muttered discontentedly, accidentally bumping into his new neighbor, who turned out to be no stranger at all. George knew Monaco was a small country, but damn, this coincidence was too unexpected, too awkward, too irritating.
“Hello to you too, Russell,” George heard a mocking and very familiar voice in response, “didn’t expect to see you here. It seems you're mistaken – Charles lives on the floor below."
“The mistake is that you were born, Verstappen,” George grumbled, not in the mood for behave. He'd had a tough week: moving, the heartache of a breakup, the endless stream of stupid tiktoks Kimi kept sending him in the hopes of lifting his spirits, but he and the young Italian clearly had different senses of humor. So, George really didn't care that he behaved badly towards his impudent rival and apparently his new neighbor.
“Oh, you must be the 'mysterious' man who recently moved into our building, right?” the Dutchman quickly connected the dots and chuckled cheerfully, “so that's what Charles meant by the 'enjoy your neighborship'.”
“Well, looks like I don't have to worry about welcoming cupcakes for the new neighbors now,” George chuckled maliciously, silently cursing Charles and his estate agent. Suddenly George remembered Max's recent interview, in which he said that he and Leclerc now lived in the same building. Damn them, those millionaire Formula 1 racing drivers, there's no escaping them.
“Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks and almost forgot how charming you are,” Max cooed mockingly in response, genuinely enjoying the whole ridiculous situation. The Red Bull driver didn't seem to care at all that his neighbor was a Mercedes driver.
Of course, George exaggerated the scale of the disaster. Sure, he and Max weren't the best of friends and occasionally clashed on and off track, but they ended the season on good terms and generally tried to maintain neutrality, though it was clear they couldn't quite leave each other alone. Both were vindictive, spiteful jerks at heart, so it's no surprise that their interviews regularly featured each other's names and subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) teasing and accusations. It just so happened that Mercedes and Red Bull drivers historically didn't get along.
“Ha-ha, and I almost forgot you were so funny,” George mimicked the man, rolling his eyes.
Just when he was about to spare himself any further 'pleasant' interaction with his rival, one of Max's pets suddenly appeared on the threshold of his apartment, clearly trying to escape by squeezing between his dad's legs. But George's quick reflexes kicked in ahead of him, and within seconds the furry rascal was sitting in his arms, staring in surprise at the stranger's face. George had to admit that the spotted orange-and-black cat was truly beautiful, and her expressive eyes and cute nose immediately captivated the Brit. But the initial surprise at the sudden halt in her escape passed, and the cat immediately hissed and began to struggle from George's grip, leaving several painful scratches on his arms in the process.
“Sassy!” Max immediately rushed to the aid of the confused George and carefully took the frantic cat from his hands, trying to calm her down and ignoring the indignant stream of curses erupting from the Brit's mouth.
“It’s not a cat, it’s a devill! Just as stupid and aggressive as her foolish owner,” George continued to lament discontentedly, examining the scratches on his hands. “I won't get infected with anything, right?”
“The devil looks after his own” Max smirked, making no attempt to apologize for his pet’s behavior.
“I will file a complaint with the management company for cruel treatment of neighbors!”
“Well, this will be fun,” Verstappen chuckled in response, stroking the cat, who had finally calmed down. “Welcome to our building, Russell. I hope you like it here. Or not. In any case, I can always help you move in, just so you know.”
“I hate you and your little demon cat, just so you know,” George muttered, giving the cat a displeased look, only to receive a genuine laugh from her daddy in response.
So, what if the neighbor turned out to be a jerk and his cat was a belligerent embodiment of its owner. That wouldn't stop George from living a quiet life, right? Max had his own life in his apartment, and George had his in his. It was like two different worlds that didn't really intersect.
But of course, George was too naive and too optimistic. When in his life did anything ever go according to his plans?
During the first few days, George truly enjoyed the quiet, calm life, gradually furnishing his new apartment to his taste. One day Charles dropped by, giggling cheerfully at the Brit's complaints about his wayward neighbor and showing no empathy whatsoever for his friend.
“Georgie, honey, it's not that serious. How often did you see your neighbors when you lived in your last apartment? Just because you and Max are now neighbors doesn't mean you'll see each other more often.”
And George knew Charles was right. In the few days he'd been living in the new apartment, the man hadn't seen Max in the building, not counting their first meeting. So, most likely, George was just overreacting and acting childish.
That evening, having relaxed and finally put his new neighbor out of his mind, George went to bed without any heavy thoughts, completely unaware that his quiet life would soon come to an end.
George woke up in the middle of the night to a sudden noise coming from the kitchen, like something breaking. The odds of being robbed in the middle of the night in a well-guarded apartment complex were slim, but not impossible.
Hastily grabbing a metal water bottle from the nightstand – a poor weapon, but it gave him at least some sense of control – he headed toward the noise. Had George been capable of conscious and critical thinking, he would have immediately called the police and locked himself in his room, awaiting assistance. But George was still half-asleep and had never had a sense of self-preservation. It wasn't for nothing that he made his living racing at over 300 km/h.
George slowly entered the kitchen and, hearing nothing suspicious, turned on the light. Squinting slightly and gradually adjusting to the bright light, he looked around and immediately froze, realizing he wasn't alone.
“Bloody hell! Sassy! What are you doing here? And how did you get here?” George grumbled, finally relaxing and pushing away the tension and fear he'd felt a second earlier.
Overall, the aftermath of Max's devil cat invasion was minimal: kitchen utensils scattered across the kitchen table and a broken mug on the floor.
With a heavy sigh, George began cleaning up the broken mug, both to avoid injuring himself and, if Sassy decided to jump to the floor, to protect her from cuts.
Having quickly finished cleaning, he decided it was time to return the cat to her rightful owner, but it was a surprisingly difficult task. Sassy categorically refused to be picked up by George and skillfully dodged the British man's grasping hands.
It must have looked rather amusing from the outside – a grown man running around the apartment at three in the morning, hoping to catch the omnipresent furry demon, muttering various curses at her wayward owner.
Exactly! Why did George have to suffer alone? Let Sassy's daddy suffers. With this evil thought in his mind, George immediately headed to the neighbor's front door and began banging on it persistently until the apartment's owner appeared.
“George? Why the hell are you knocking on my door in the middle of the night?” Max muttered sleepily and irritably.
“It’s me who should be asking you why the hell your cat is breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night and wreaking havoc!” George replied, eyeing the guy cheerfully. In shorts and a black oversized T-shirt, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes, Max looked quite charming. Which, of course, George wasn't about to admit. At least not out loud. But he also wasn't planning on taking his eyes off his neighbor. After all, not every day you can see the famous, ferocious Dutch lion in fluffy slippers.
“Huh?” Max was clearly at a loss for words and wide-eyed, waiting for George to explain.
George sighed and, shamelessly grabbing his sleepy neighbor by the elbow, dragged him into his apartment in search of the chaotic cat, which had managed to knock a few things onto the floor during their brief chase, though fortunately nothing fragile or valuable had been damaged.
“What a mess you have here,” Max drawled, looking around George’s apartment.
“And who's to blame for this?!” George snapped, checking the kitchen and living room. Empty. But George had a hunch where the little brat might be hiding. Entering the bedroom, the Brit finally released his disoriented neighbor and, with a dramatic sigh, pointed to the bed.
“Wow, wait a minute, Russell. People usually buy me dinner first and only then drag me into the bedroom,” Max grinned cheekily, earning a well-deserved slap on the back of the head. Verstappen was about to make another caustic remark, but stopped himself, staring in surprise at the fluffy little ball that had brazenly settled right on the pillow.
“Sassy? What is my precious baby doing in your bed?”
“I should be asking you what your 'precious baby' is doing in my bed!” George sat down wearily on the edge of the bed, afraid to approach the cat, expecting help from its owner.
“George! You stole my cat?!” Instead of help, a reckless accusation followed, to which George could only snort in response.
“Max, if I were planning to kidnap your cat, would I give you her location?”
“Still don’t understand how Sassy ended up in your apartment,” Max muttered thoughtfully, picking up the cat, who this time didn’t resist and softly settled into her owner’s arms.
“To be honest, I don’t understand it either.” George tiredly ran his hand through his curls, already tangled from sleep, trying to get rid of the approaching headache, “I woke up because of the noise in the kitchen, thought it was burglars, and then I discovered that this scoundrel decided that she owned this place.”
“Oh,” Max again looked in surprise at Sassy, who didn’t care at all that she had managed to puzzle two smart men, “she usually doesn’t run away, and the old neighbors never complained about breaking and entering.”
“Apparently, I’m special,” George chuckled, getting out of bed and persistently escorting the uninvited guests towards the exit.
“But you know, you could just have given her to me through the door,” Max’s eyes suddenly sparkled with slyness again, “or were you so eager to show me your bedroom?”
“Oh, shut up, Verstappen,” George rolled his eyes, involuntarily pouting in offense, thereby amusing the other man even more, “you think I didn't try to catch her? But this devil cat wouldn't listen to me at all and just hissed, constantly running away, so I had to call for help.”
“Good girl,” Max immediately cooed over Sassy, unconsciously sending a shiver down George's spine. Out of disgust, of course. For no other reason.
“Just take your 'good' girl and get out of my apartment. I've had enough of your company for today," George muttered irritably, forcibly ushering the uninvited guests out the door. “And you owe me a new mug, Verstappen! I must admit, your furry baby has good taste. Of all the mugs on the table, she decided to break my favorite.”
“You are truly a very good girl, Sassy. Well done!” a cheerful, stupid grin appeared on Max's face again, and George, rolling his eyes, demonstratively closed his eyes loudly in front of him without saying goodbye.
“Idiot,” George muttered, heading toward the bedroom, hoping to snatch some more sleep. You wouldn't wish neighbors like that on your worst enemy indeed.
***
However, the cheeky neighbor's visits didn't end that night. When George walked into the living room the next evening, he was startled by a cat that suddenly jumped out from around the corner.
“Blimey, Sassy! How did you get in here again?!”
Of course, George didn't receive a response from Sassy, but the presence of a leopard-print cat in his apartment no longer surprised him. George and Max initially tried to immediately return the little rascal to the Max's apartment, but after a week of Sassy 's repeated visits to George's place, they simply gave in and agreed to give the cat some freedom. In the end, Sassy always returned home when she tired of wandering around George's apartment.
“I think she's sneaking in through the balcony,” George remarked philosophically, sitting on the couch in Max's place, waiting for the Dutch to make the tea George had so brazenly asked for. It was compensation for all the inconvenience Max's cats had caused George.
Although only Sassy was causing chaos. The other two cats – Jimmy and Donut, quickly warmed up to George and, within five minutes of him crossing the threshold, were basking in his arms. Donut took pride of place on George's lap, and Jimmy settled in next to him, both cats enjoying the warmth and gentle caresses.
“Little traitors,” Max shook his head, putting tea in front of the Brit, “at least Sassy doesn’t succumb to your feigned charm.”
“And that's why she sneaks into my apartment every day,” George retorted back, “through the balcony, most likely. I've gone through all the hypothetical options, and this one seems the most realistic. You keep the balcony door open, right?”
Max grunted affirmatively in response.
“Do you think I should lock the door? She's never run away from the apartment before. You're clearly practicing black magic. Otherwise, I can't find a reason why Sassy is so drawn to your place.”
“So, you admit Sassy is a devil cat, huh? Since she's drawn to dark magic,” George chuckled cheerfully, reluctantly noting that the tea Max had made was quite good by his personal standards.
“Of course. Evil attracts evil,” Max said with a grin.
“Crikey, that's what you think about your beloved cat. I see,” George chuckled, “should I contact an animal welfare service?”
“Just admit that you've been trying to steal my cats all this time, George.”
“Donut and Jimmy, definitely. They're so adorable. As for the devil cat, not so sure,” the Brit shook his head, hiding his smile behind a cup of tea. “I'm starting to think you're deliberately sending her to my apartment to wreak havoc on my life.”
“Why would I torture my baby like that?” Max chuckled in response, gently scratching Sassy under the ear.
“Your ‘baby’ making fun of me! Soon I'll be billing you for all the damaged things that fell under Sassy's claws.”
“I demand photo proof, or this never happened,” Max shook his head, trying to hold back a smile.
“You'll have photo evidence, Verstappen.”
Soon Sassy pulled another trick. The very next day, George was gleefully sending Max a photo of Sassy deliberately scratching the sofa, leaving noticeable marks.
George
*photo attached*
I demand payment for repairs, Verstappen!
Max
The photo is clearly fake.
My baby wouldn't hurt a mouse.
*photo attached*
See? Angel!
George
She might not hurt the mouse, but my sofa was clearly damaged.
No training.
I'm calling animal welfare service.
Max
Call my lawyer, Russell.
George
With pleasure! Give me the number!
Max
How about compensation with dinner?
I'm placing an order at the Italian restaurant that Charles recommended.
And I'll let you play with Donut and Jimmy.
George
Okay, deal.
But next time I'm definitely calling your lawyer, Verstappen.
***
“You look like crap, buddy,” Alex chuckled, looking at the Brit skeptically.
George was missing his best friend and decided to finally show him his new apartment. After spending a few hours there, the men decided to grab a bite to eat at a cute coffee shop located on the ground floor of the building.
The winter break was coming to an end, and tomorrow they were scheduled to fly to Melbourne for the first race weekend of the season. George was excited! The break was great, but the driver couldn't wait to get back in the car and experience the full potential of the new machine. The regulation change was a big deal, and George really hoped the car wouldn't let him down this time, giving him a chance to fight for the champion title. A chance to compete with that cocky Dutch jerk. Frankly, he was the reason George looked so tired right now.
Speaking of the devil. George immediately noticed the irritating Red Bull driver entering the coffee shop. Max was dressed in a tracksuit and had likely just returned from a run, deciding to pop in for a coffee. The man also noticed him and nodded in his direction with a casual grin but thankfully didn't approach or force his company on him and Alex. Instead, the guy headed toward the friendly barista, quickly placing his order. Then he moved toward the bar, waiting for his drink to be made.
George realized Max was standing quite close to their table and could easily hear what he and Alex were saying, so a stupid, vindictive idea began to take root in his head. Yes, George was a petty jerk sometimes, he made no secret from it.
“You would look lousy too if your neighbor woke you up in the middle of the night!”
“Huh? What happened this time?” Albon's eyes lit up with curiosity. Alex didn't know George's neighbor was Max, but lately the man had often heard his friend complain about the mystical neighbor and his restless cats.
“I woke up to a loud howl coming from behind the wall that didn't stop for half an hour. Seriously, they're animals! They don't care about their neighbors at all.”
George was indeed awakened by meowing and howling through the next wall. Without thinking twice, he rushed to knock on Max’s door and find out from him that Sassy and Jimmy were fighting over a new toy and decided the best time to arrange a showdown was four o'clock in the morning.
Surprisingly, George and Max were a good team. While George held Jimmy, Max dragged Sassy into the next room, trying to calm the enraged cat. A few minutes later, Max returned, tired but finally relaxed.
George had escaped with just a few superficial scratches, but Max had a rather deep cut on his right hand. Despite Max's protests, George helped tend to the wound and, with a sense of accomplishment, headed back to his apartment. But after that, George’s sleep was too shallow for him to rest properly. So, no wonder Alex noticed his fatigue. And no wonder George wanted to tease Max a little.
But Alex decided that teasing George would be the best idea, so his face immediately lit up with a bright grin.
“Georgie, honey, I bet you might be a little lonely after your recent breakup, but that's no reason to judge your neighbors for having such a good sex life.”
There was silence at the table for a few seconds, after which George's cheeks began to turn a bright shade of red.
“What?! Alex! This is not what I meant, you pervert.”
“Don't be shy, Georgie. We're adults and we should know that some people express themselves a little more loudly than others,” Alex shrugged, clearly enjoying his best friend's embarrassment.
“When was the last time you had sex? You need to relax, then maybe you'll stop complaining about your new neighbor so much.”
The worst part of this whole situation was that Max heard it all. George saw his shoulders silently shaking, the man clearly choking with laughter. And the Brit couldn't even blame anyone. He'd started this conversation and gotten into this awkward situation. And just when George thought things couldn't get any worse, Alex suddenly made a completely absurd suggestion.
“What about sleeping with your neighbor? You clearly have some unresolved sexual tension with him, and I'm sure it would resolve most of your differences. Is he hot?”
George wished to dig himself in the deepest hole, falling face down in it, and never coming out again. God, his best friend hated him.
George unconsciously glanced at Max, who had clearly heard Alex's suggestion and was currently trying to cough up the coffee he'd apparently choked on after hearing such absurdity. The tips of the Dutchman's ears turned bright red, and somehow this small fact made the whole ridiculous situation more bearable for George. He saw that Max was also suffering, and George was gloating a little over it.
“Alex, I’m not going to sleep with my neighbor,” George gave his best friend a irritated look.
“But you don't deny he's hot, right? Oh, Georgie, Georgie, you're so obvious,” Alex drawled cheerfully, dodging a napkin flying at him.
“Please, shut up. He's not hot. Quite the opposite. He's annoying,” George muttered, catching a glimpse of Max hurriedly leaving the coffee shop. Thank goodness. George couldn't bear to see his best friend humiliated him while his archenemy listened.
“Liar,” Alex chuckled, shaking his head, but quickly took pity on his friend and changed the topic to a more neutral one.
George just hoped that Max would take pity on him too and never bring up this little incident again in the future.
***
The new season had finally begun, drawing George into the racing chaos he loved so much. The car showed promise. Of course, the man still had a hard time adjusting to the new rules and how the car handled in these new conditions, but George always loved new challenges. He'd definitely get the hang of this new driving style soon enough. Besides, two wins and a podium in the first three races was a great start to the season. George was ready to go all out for the championship.
And of course, there were some run-ins with some aggressive drivers. George knew he and Max would argue again at some point. He just didn't expect it to come so early in the season.
“What the hell was that? You were braking and almost sent us both off track!” Max fumed, cornering George in a deserted hallway after the press conference. George won the Japanese Grand Prix, epically snatching the lead from Max on the penultimate lap and then fiercely defending it to the finish.
“It's you and your dangerous overtakes, which, by the way, you never managed. Learn to lose, Max,” George rolled his eyes, trying to pass another driver, but was stopped by a heavy hand that pinned him to the wall again.
“Bloody hell, Verstappen! What's your problem?!” George exclaimed indignantly, glaring at the other man. He was tired. The race had been tough, and he had absolutely no energy for a stupid argument with Max. He also had a victory party ahead of him, which George wasn't particularly looking forward to, but he had commitments to the team and sponsors.
“You don't play fair, Russell. And it never ends well, mark my words,” Max growled low, meeting his cold blue eyes directly with a belligerent gaze.
“If you have any complaints, send it to the FIA. As far as I heard, your team's protest was rejected. I didn't do anything wrong!”
“The FIA was wrong,” Max insisted, still glaring. A shiver ran down George's spine, and his heart began to beat slightly faster than usual. George wanted to chalk it up to the post-race daze, but deep down, he knew it was more the intensity of his and Verstappen's starring match, the unexpected closeness, and the charged air between them. George's body began to tremble treacherously. From rage, of course, not from anything else. Frankly, he was a little frightened by his body's reaction to his proximity to the Dutchman and this obvious provocation, but George was too tired to dwell on it.
“Then tell it directly to Sulayem instead of pinning me in a tight corridor,” George snapped, finally breaking free from Max’s grip and retreating a few steps away from him.
“It’s not over yet, Russell,” Max said to him as he left, sighing and ruffling his already disheveled hair. “Enjoy your victory while you can. Next time it will be mine.”
“I hope Sassy rips your favorite hoodie, idiot,” George muttered angrily.
There was no mood for celebration, but George was a professional. Putting on his best PR smile, he headed to the Mercedes hospitality area, accepting congratulations from the team and VIP guests.
Back home in Monaco, George was still angry with Max, and a sudden message from his neighbor caught him off guard.
Max
*photo attached*
This is not my favorite hoodie.
But I still loved those pants.
I don't think I can wear them with a hole like that.
George
Wow
Sassy is my new favorite
Max
I forbid it.
The world couldn’t stand your evil duet.
I'm starting to believe the theory that you have black magic.
George
Well, you absolutely deserve it!
Max
☹
George made a mental note that the next time he went grocery shopping, he also needs to stop by the pet store and pick up some treats for Sassy, Jimmy, and Donut. After what Sassy did George's mood improved significantly, and he fell asleep giggling over a photo of Max's ripped pants.
George kept his promise and the very next day bought up almost half of the pet store, throwing different toys and various healthy cat snacks he liked into his basket.
George left half of the goods in his apartment because Sassy kept sneaking into his place and staying for short periods of time. The remaining half of the goods he carried to Max's apartment, brazenly squeezing between the door and Max, ignoring his surprised protests.
“Did you rob a pet store?” Max chuckled, amused as George showed off his toys to the excited cats.
“I'm a strong, independent man with a good income who can afford to spoil your furry children sometimes. It's not their fault they got such an irritating daddy,” George chuckled maliciously in response, giggling at the Dutchman's indignation.
“And I – as a noble man – wanted to invite you to stay for dinner, but now I'm thinking of withdrawing the offer.”
“You're the most ungrateful man I know,” George snorted, “but I'll stay for dinner, thank you.”
George continued to coo at the cats that surrounded him and were studying the new toys with interest, completely oblivious to the soft gaze of the apartment's owner.
***
George was upset. The Monaco Grand Prix was always difficult due to the impossibility of overtaking, and qualifying essentially decided the outcome of the race. So, naturally, he was unhappy with his fourth place in qualifying. Some might say it was a good position, but George continued to blame himself for the stupid mistake at the first corner that cost him precious seconds. His mood was also worsened by the fact that his main rival for the championship had taken pole. Damn Max Verstappen.
One of the benefits of racing in Monaco was that at the end of the day, George could return to his apartment. A familiar space that surrounded him with coziness and gave him a sense of comfort. It was always easier to suffer from life's unfairness and self-flagellation within the confines of his own home than in an unfamiliar hotel room.
“Sassy, you came to gloat about your daddy taking pole while I only finished fourth, right?” George sighed, collapsing tiredly onto the other end of the sofa, trying not to disturb the cat too much. Sassy had a wayward character and usually didn't allow herself to be petted. George quickly realized this and respected her personal space, usually content to keep Jimmy and Donut close. But this time, something was different.
George was sullenly hypnotizing the wall, trying to put today's qualifications out of his mind, when suddenly he felt a slight nudge on his side. He glanced down in surprise just as Sassy brazenly climbed onto his lap and, after a brief shuffle, settled herself directly on top of him, lazily closing her eyes. Carefully, as if touching a treasure, he moved his hand to Sassy's back and tried to run his hand through her soft fur. George expected the familiar hiss, but instead, Sassy allowed him to pet her and purred loudly, enjoying the caress.
Warmth immediately spread through George's body, and he felt loved. And honestly at that moment, George almost burst into tears. All the nagging depressive thoughts instantly left his head, and he even forgot why he'd been moping around that evening.
“I guess that's why people have pets - to feel loved,” George thought, looking at the adorable little fluff ball on his lap.
George
*photo attached*
I feel special.
Max
You are special (not delivered)
***
Somehow, George managed to climb from fourth to second place in the race, only losing the top step of the podium to Max.
Some will say it was luck and poor strategy on the part of his opponents, others will say it was George's masterful driving. The Mercedes driver himself was convinced he'd been imbued with magical powers, kindly bestowed upon him by Sassy, who'd stayed overnight with him the night before, happily snoring at his side on the huge bed. It was stupid, but allow the guy to be a little naivety and romantic, okay?
So, it was no surprise that at the end of the night, George found himself in the company of most of the drivers at the famous club, celebrating another podium and enjoying the fun atmosphere, dancing and alcohol.
Alex had spent half the evening hinting to his best friend that he should relax and go home tonight with a cute guy or girl, but the Brit simply brushed off the suggestion. George enjoyed flirting with attractive people and receiving compliments, along with free cocktails, but tonight no one caught his discerning eye. George knew he had high standards for many things, including his partners, but he wasn't just any man. He was George Russell – a Formula 1 driver fighting for the championship. The man knew his worth.
“Why did you turn down that hot guy? It seemed like you two hit it off,” Alex looked puzzled at his best friend, who was carefreely enjoying a fruit cocktail, not at all upset by the ruined hypothetical date.
“He doesn’t like cats,” George shrugged, immediately receiving a skeptical look from his friend.
“Since when do you care? I never noticed you had a huge love for cats. I thought you were more of a dog person.”
“I love all animals,” George chuckled, ignoring Alex's inquisitive gaze.
George didn't know how to explain to his friend that he'd been spending a lot of time with Max and his cats lately and had already lost his heart to those little furry rascals. George would save that conversation for another day, when he was more sober and in a better mood for Alex's lectures and ridicule.
“God, you're more unbearable than usual today,” Alex rolled his eyes, but softened seeing George's pout. “Is it because Max took the lead in the championship after this Grand Prix? Is that why you're sulking?”
“I'm not sulking over some stupid Dutchman,” George replied, unconsciously pouting even more, causing his friend to laugh cheerfully.
“What have I done again to displease the great George Russell?” the Red Bull driver suddenly joined in, brazenly invading George's personal space.
“Was born,” George snorted discontentedly, trying not to be too agitated by Max's proximity. This was a difficult task. The man smelled good, which didn't help George cope with his suddenly accelerated heartbeat. Inside, he was an emotional storm, but on the outside, the driver tried to remain indifferent.
“Anyway, you think you're the only Dutchman in my life who gets on my nerves?”
“Ouch, you're breaking my heart, princess,” Max replied slightly dramatically, deliberately leaning even closer. “I thought I was special.”
The club had gotten hotter, or was it just George who noticed? The man gently pushed Max away and took a long sip of his cocktail, which clearly amused Verstappen, and now his face was beaming with joy. What a bastard! He suddenly appeared, caused chaos in George's heart and is now rejoicing.
He urgently needed some fresh air, and preferably not to see the Verstappen's stupid, annoying and very attractive face again. Blimey, he'd definitely had enough alcohol for tonight. George had never been particularly obsessed with Max's looks, but for some reason tonight the man seemed especially handsome.
“I think I've had enough celebrating for today,” George breathed out, finishing his drink and rising from his bar stool, swaying slightly.
“Are you okay?” Alex glanced at his best friend with concern, and he nodded in agreement.
“I'll walk him home, don’t worry,” Max suddenly found himself next to George, ready to follow him.
“Why are you suddenly so kind to George?” Alex looked suspiciously at his former teammate, but he only shrugged and smiled sweetly.
“I was also getting ready to go home and we'll going the same way anyway.”
Max said goodbye to Alex and began to gently push George towards the exit.
“Come on, princess, we don't want your carriage to turn into a pumpkin, do we?”
“You've got a pumpkin for a brain, Verstappen,” George replied, but he still started giggling stupidly. It wasn't that George found it funny, but today he could easily blame it on the alcohol.
Max suggested calling a taxi, but George wanted to take a short walk to clear his head, and the older didn't argue. Luckily, their apartment complex wasn't far, and the walk home took no more than half an hour. To George's delight, Max seemed to understand his mood and didn't bother him with pointless conversation, and a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of the waves and the occasional passing car.
It was difficult to understand the strange thrill Max had been causing George lately, or why did his heart start beating faster whenever Max invaded his personal space. George's life always followed a strict plan, and even the slightest deviations unnerved him.
He and Max had known each other for a long time, and George had even wanted to give that impudent Dutch a good punch a couple of times, and he was sure the feelings were mutual. Even now, George was tempted to hit Max hard, preferably with his lips on Max's lips. Crikey! George’s definitely going crazy to think such stupid thoughts and behave worse than any teenager.
“Are you okay?” Max held the front door for him, hearing the Brit's miserable whine.
“Yeah, just tired,” he mumbled in response, trying to hide his flushed face. George desperately needed to be home, away from Max, to stop thinking about him and his soft lips.
But when the door to his apartment finally came into view, George stopped abruptly. He remembered the previous night, and the warmth Sassy had given him. George was a strong and independent man, but sometimes he needed warmth and care. His insides especially demanded it when he was drunk.
It seemed Alex was right, and George should have gone home today with someone who could fill the void he felt after breaking up with his ex-girlfriend. He didn't want to go home alone. He was pathetic.
“George?” Max raised an eyebrow questioningly, looking at the guy hovering in the hallway. “Are you sure you're okay? Where are your keys?”
“Max! I want to see Sassy,” George suddenly declared, looking pitifully at his surprised neighbor.
“But it's three in the morning, and you said you were tired. Come on, I'll help you get to bed, and tomorrow you can come visit and see Sassy,” Max gently nudged the Brit in the direction of his place, but George resisted and looked at the man with a warlike glare.
“No, I want to see her now! And Jimmy! And Donut!”
For about a minute, they exchanged intense glances. Max seemed to be searching for something in depths of George's blue eyes, while George himself tried to convey to Max that he needed to see his pets and cuddle them.
After a while, Max gave in and, muttering something like "those stupid Bambi eyes" under his breath, opened the door to his apartment, silently inviting George inside, which made the younger one exclaim joyfully and immediately ran inside, taking off his shoes as he went, and immediately headed to the living room in search of his favorite babies.
“Sassy, I've missed you, my beloved devil cat,” George murmured softly, hugging the sleepy cat, who, to the surprise of both men, again didn’t resist and allowed George to coo over her.
“Now that's what I call character development,” Max chuckled, looking at his contented neighbor, who was petting his cat, but his gaze still held a hint of tenderness. “Is this the 'enemies to lovers' trope everyone keeps talking about?”
“Oh, shut up,” George snorted sheepishly, hiding his face in the cat’s soft fur, but almost immediately he again cast what he thought was his best pleading look at Max.
“Max, can I borrow Sassy, at least for tonight? Please, please, please. I don't want to sleep alone.”
For a while, they continued their silent staring contest, just like they had earlier in the hallway. Max's unreadable gaze flickered from George to Sassy and back again a couple of times, then he sighed deeply and, giving up, pointed toward his bedroom.
“Just stay with me tonight. The bed is big.”
George paused for a moment, blinking stupidly, trying to process Max's proposal. Was it his imagination, or did the Dutchman look embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning red? Cute.
Although George was also embarrassed by the thought of sharing a bed with Max. But then again, he was drunk, tired, and eager to get into a soft bed, so, taking Sassy with him, he followed Max into his bedroom without protest.
The bed was indeed enormous, so George wasn't too worried about the two of them sleeping on it. Besides, Sassy was with him, grounding him well and distracting him from unnecessary thoughts.
And when, after some five minutes, Max returned from the bathroom, he was presented with a touching picture of George already snoring on the left side of the bed, tenderly hugging Sassy, who didn’t mind at all such interference in her personal space.
It was strange. Sassy had never allowed anyone to treat her like that, not even Max. Yes, he often carried her in his arms and petted her occasionally, but this was clearly a new level of trust and favoritism from the cat.
With a resigned sigh, Max turned off the light and joined the sleeping couple in bed. He usually doesn’t allow his cats to sleep with him, but sometimes you can make an exception, right?
“It’s just for tonight,” Max muttered, also quickly falling asleep.
***
George jumped from the intrusive barrage of messages on his phone. He glanced at the notifications and cursed quietly under his breath. Bloody hell, he was late for his flight, and he was once again blaming the stupid Dutchman, who was dozing next to him, trying to ignore the Mercedes driver, who was way too loud for the early morning.
For the second time this week, George woke up in Max's bedroom. And while the first time he could blame it on alcohol and a silly feeling of loneliness, this time he had absolutely no excuse.
Last night George showed up at Max's with a new supply of treats and cat toys, and somehow ended up staying for dinner, after which Max suggested they play Mario Kart, and after losing to Max with a crushing score George started sulking.
“You cheated,” George brazenly accused Max, seeking comfort from Jimmy and Donut, who happily surrounded the man and enjoyed his affection, which made the Brit melt inside, enjoying the cats' trust in him.
“Just admit defeat, Russell,” Max snorted in response, throwing another displeased look at his pets and calling them little traitors.
So, after a delicious dinner surrounded by warm, fuzzy bundles of joy, watching Max's new game session, George involuntarily fell asleep. George also didn't remember how they'd gotten to Max's bedroom, but he had absolutely no time to dwell on that detail, because he really did have a problem, and a very big one at that.
“George! Stop fussing around, you're keeping me awake,” Max muttered sleepily, but George paid no attention to him.
“You don't understand, Max! I missed my flight.”
“Stop panicking over stupid things, George,” Max sighed, finally opening his eyes and looking displeasedly at the agitated man. At another time, George would have found the sleepy Max with his tousled hair and owlish eyes quite cute, but right now he needed to deal with a pressing problem.
“This isn't stupid, Max! I must be in Barcelona in a couple of hours. This is a disaster. I need to find the next available flight. Toto will kill me.”
“I have a private jet,” Max said with amusement in his eyes, which George didn’t share at all.
“Congratulations. I'm happy for you, but not wholeheartedly. We mere mortals don't have that privilege,” the younger man snapped, prompting a small laugh from the other man.
“Dummy,” Max muttered with a tenderness that was unusual for George, and then added louder.
“Just join me on board. My team and I are planning to leave in a couple of hours anyway.”
George's eyes widened in surprise.
“Are you sure? Your team won't mind giving a ‘Mercedes snake’ a free flight? What if they think I'm trying to pry your strategy for the next race?”
“Are you going to do it?” Max raised his eyebrow cheerfully.
“No, but I could,” George frowned slightly, considering the offer. Frankly, he didn't want to bother with buying new tickets, so Max's offer was starting to seem like the better option.
“It's naive of you to assume that you'll be able to find out anything from my team,” Max chuckled, "in any case, I don't care what the team thinks, this is my jet, and I can invite whoever I want on board."
“Wow, such a big boss,” George snorted. Half asleep, Max looked more like a disgruntled cat than a terrifying racer with a private jet, but George actually liked this Max much more than the regular version of Verstappen everyone saw in the paddock.
“So, are you flying with me, or do you need help booking a commercial flight? I'm sure you'd enjoy sitting in one of the last rows, somewhere near the toilets, brooding the entire flight over how you could have been enjoying the luxury of Max Verstappen's private jet instead, but that requires putting your pride aside, right George?”
Pride had nothing to do with it. George actually was more terrified of being so close to Max. First, sleeping in his bed, then flying on his private jet. What next? A transfer to his team? No thanks. George didn't need that. Besides, turning down a free flight now would be stupid, right?
“God, you're insufferable,” George rolled his eyes, “but I'll accept your generous offer and bless you and your annoying team with my presence.”
Toto would go crazy if he found out. But that's a problem for future George. For now, he's decided to just go with the flow.
***
“What the hell is this monster and why is it on my desk?!” George skeptically twirled the garish pink mug, sprinkled with glitter, with a huge ‘princess’ sign in the middle and a crooked blue bow on the side. George assumed that only one person in this world could have given him this tasteless gift, but he still tried to deny the obvious until the very end.
“There’s a note here that says it’s a gift from your neighbor,” Kimi said, clearly enjoying his teammate’s confusion.
“That idiot,” George shook his head in irritation, but couldn’t help but chuckle a little.
“You have an interesting relationship with your neighbor,” Kimi looked at the teammate with interest, but the latter merely shrugged. He wasn't about to share his strange situation with neighbor to the young Italian. In fact, George hadn't quite figured it out himself yet.
As if sensing his best friend's inner confusion, the Williams driver appeared in the Mercedes motorhome, striding purposefully toward the pensive Brit. At that moment, Kimi called the engineer over to discuss strategy, and after a quick hello to Alex, Andrea left the best friends alone.
“Where have you been? I thought we were supposed to fly to Barcelona together, but I never saw you at the airport,” Alex sat down next to George and eyed his friend suspiciously.
“I overslept,” George sighed tiredly, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to avoid his best friend’s interrogation forever.
“Overslept? Are we sure we're talking about the same George Russell? Because the George Russell I know plans a month in advance and sets 15 alarms for fear of oversleeping, especially before an important flight related to racing.”
“It happens to everyone, Albono, even the best of us,” George chuckled, avoiding friend's direct gaze.
“So how did you end up getting to Barcelona on such short notice? Were you lucky enough to snag a ticket on the next flight?” asked Alex.
They both knew perfectly well that during Grand Prix weeks, plane tickets were hard to come by unless they were bought in advance. They also both knew that money solved many problems in this world, and George could try to lie, but what was the point? He'd already been keeping so much from Alex since moving into his new apartment, and it felt like it was eating away at him. Albon was a smart guy, and George was confident he'd quickly connect the dots. But maybe that's exactly what George needed Alex to finally do. He needed someone to talk to about his complicated situation with Max.
“I flew here on a private jet.”
“Since when have you been flying private jet? And the main question is, whose private jet is this?” Alex's eyes lit up with interest, and he unconsciously leaned closer to his friend.
“Since my neighbor invited me to fly with him this morning,” George chuckled, not noticing how he unconsciously began to fiddle with the bow on the mug he had recently given him, which attracted his friend’s attention.
“What is this?”
“A gift,” George answered, smiling, “from a neighbor.”
“There's a suspiciously large amount of that mystical neighbor in your life lately. I'm even starting to get jealous,” Alex chuckled, but suddenly froze when he saw the inscription on the mug. George watched with a childish glee as his friend's face comically changed as he tried to process the information.
“An annoying neighbor who has cats, a private jet, and calls you princess. George! Why didn't you tell me your new neighbor is Max Verstappen?!”
“It’s all Charles’s fault,” George snorted angrily, after which Alex indignantly poked his friend in the side.
“Why the hell does Charles know that your neighbor is Max, and I find out this information a few months after you moved in?!”
“Don't be offended, Alex. It's just that Charles was the one who recommended this apartment to me. But that idiot didn't mention that it would mean I'd be living next door to Verstappen.”
With a resigned sigh, George glanced around and pulled Alex toward his private room. This was definitely not a conversation for prying ears.
Back in his room, George finally allowed himself to speak out. They still had a few hours before the drivers' press conference, so Alex patiently heard the full story of his friend's recent life. The Williams driver listened attentively, occasionally asking clarifying questions, but didn't interrupt, and most importantly, didn't judge. He was simply there, holding his friend's hand in support.
“You're screwed, Georgie,” Alex shook his head, trying to digest the information he had received over the last half hour.
“I know. And I'm panicking, Alex. What should I do now?” George looked at his best friend, hoping he could help him sort out all his problems, but the other man just shrugged and gave a funny little grin.
“So, you realize that you like Max Verstappen, right?”
“What?? No way, you're talking nonsense,” George shook his head furiously, trying to pretend Alex had never said those words. Because those words were so close to the truth.
“I know it's hard to admit this, even to yourself, but look at how it looks from the outside. You treat his cats like your own, pampering them and constantly seeking their company, and not only them, but also their daddy's company. You're constantly hanging out at Max's apartment, he treats you to dinners, lets you sleep in his bed, and then invites you on his private jet? Mate, you're literally dating!”
“We're not dating!” George snorted, turning pale at the obvious facts Alex was throwing out.
“For now,” Albon mumbled in response, “but tell me honestly, you like him, right? I've noticed you've become nicer to him lately, and there's definitely a tension between you. I mean, there's always been tension between you two, but this year it feels a little different.”
“Of course there's tension between us. We are the main rivals for the championship title this year,” George continued, still trying to find weak excuses, but he knew Alex was right. George also felt his relationship with Max had changed this year, especially since they'd become neighbors.
“Georgie, you're a smart man, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about,” Alex rolled his eyes, but still pulled his friend into a comforting hug.
“So, what should I do now, Alex?” George asked his best friend again, pitifully.
“My advice remains the same: sleep with your neighbor,” the Thai chuckled, laughing merrily at his best friend’s embarrassed indignation.
“You're unbearable!” George immediately pushed the laughing guy away and frowned in displeasure.
“Just talk to Max, Georgie. I know you're the two most stubborn people in the world, but I'm sure you'll figure this out like adults.”
Easier said than done, but George promised his friend he'd think about his advice. The ‘talk to Max’ one, not the ‘sleep with Max’ one. At least for now.
George
*photo attached*
Delivered this today by mistake.
The design is not quite my style.
Max
This is compensation for the mug that was broken earlier.
The design was chosen by Sassy.
We both think this mug is perfect for you, princess.
George
Okay, this mug isn't going straight into the trash just because Sassy picked it out.
Max
Don't worry, I have a spare one in my place so you can finally drink your Earl Grey from the mug of a worthy royal next time you come to visit.
George
Then don't be surprised if this mug ends up in Sassy's clutches.
Max
Sassy likes this mug.
George
Sassy is lucky that I like her.
Max
I like you (not delivered)
***
Somehow, George found himself back in Max's apartment. Despite a fierce battle between them on track, they silently agreed to be kinder in their daily lives.
They were relaxing before their upcoming trip to Austria, snuggled up on Verstappen's soft sofa, cuddling with cats and watching a comedy George had randomly chosen earlier. Though the Brit wasn't paying much attention to what was happening on the screen, still lost in his thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a quiet voice from the other side of the sofa. George turned his head in its direction and met a surprisingly warm, attentive gaze.
“I'm thinking about what Alex told me recently.”
To be honest, George had been thinking about this for a couple of days, and it was bothering him. He was tired and decided the next rational step was to tell Max. Let that idiot suffer, too.
“So, what did Alex tell you?” Max took the bait, giving George his full attention.
“He said I should sleep with you,” George said shamelessly, watching with amusement as the other man choked on air and blushed furiously, trying to clear his throat, thereby frightening Sassy, who immediately jumped up from his lap and sat importantly on the cat tower, casting a contemptuous glance at her daddy.
“It’s not funny, George!” he muttered.
“I wish it was a joke,” the Brit chuckled sadly, “but that's not the only thing he told me. I think he's right, and we need to talk.”
“About what?” Max stared at George again, trying to figure out what he was up to, but the Mercedes driver simply decided to be honest this time.
“About us. I'm sure you've also noticed that our relationship has changed a bit lately. Look at us – so homey and affectionate, although recently we were both bickering after almost every race and ready to tear each other's throats apart.”
“I guess this is what they call growing up?” Max suggested.
“It’s called being stupidly in love with the stupidest man in the world!” George retorted angrily, immediately covering his mouth in panic, realizing he'd spilled everything on Max in the heat of the moment. Yes, he'd meant to talk about their relationship, but being in love? Was he really in love with this idiot?
And while George was in the throes of yet another mini-crisis, Max carefully rose from his seat and moved closer to the man, like a lion approaching an unsuspecting, beautiful doe. With uncharacteristic tenderness, Max took George's hands in his and gently turned the man toward him, peering into his confused face.
“So, you finally admit that you are the stupidest man in the world?”
“What?” George blinked his long eyelashes in confusion as he looked at the other man's handsome face, his breath caught in his throat by the closeness and intimacy of the moment.
“Well, you said ‘stupidly in love with the stupidest man in the world.' And I admit that I'm in love with you, so I logically concluded that you think you're stupid,” Max teased with a soft smile, causing George to flare up in irritation.
“What? No! I meant that I'm in love with you, and not that I'm stupid. You're the one being stupid! Dummy!”
Well, George couldn't help but being dramatic, that's just the kind of person he is.
“I’m dummy indeed,” Max closed the distance between them even more, “only a fool like me could fall in love with you.”
“Shut up,” George muttered sheepishly, slightly alarmed his body was reacting to his proximity to Max, but he couldn't help himself. His heart had made a choice, even though his brain was trying its best to resist.
“With pleasure,” Max grinned dangerously, after which he finally completely closed the distance between them, pulling George into a long-awaited persistent kiss.
It turned out that Max was a very good kisser, easily knocking any thoughts out of George's head except one: he was in love with Max, he wanted Max.
“Take me to the bedroom, Max,” George muttered between kisses, trying to suppress another moan as his opponent's lips brushed against a sensitive spot on his neck. Damn Max Verstappen, he was driving him crazy.
“Are you sure?” Max pulled away from the Brit's neck for a second, proudly inspecting the fresh hickey he'd left in plain sight. George slightly rolled his eyes, looking at the Max's satisfied expression. So possessive, blimey. Unfortunately, it only turned George on even more.
“Less talk, more action, Verstappen,” George hissed, pulling Max into a passionate kiss again, feeling a light laugh on his lips that quickly turned into a deep, low moan.
“A princess's every whim is law,” Max muttered, easily lifting George into his arms and confidently heading toward the bedroom, giggling at George's indignant response while he sheepishly hid his face in the crook of his neck. Which was stupid, knowing what would happen next in the bedroom, but the man wasn't used to being treated like that. No one had ever carried him around treating him like a treasure.
Having lowered George onto the bed, Max immediately climbed on top of him, but instead of getting down to business right away, he simply looked down at George for a while, causing a herd of goosebumps to run down the Brit's spine.
“Why are you staring at me with that stupid expression? Have you forgotten how to do it?” George chuckled sarcastically, but his red face clearly betrayed his embarrassment.
“The view is too breathtaking,” Max smiled, finally closing the distance between them and kissing him again in a way no one had ever done before.
“So beautiful,” Max whispered reverently, showering George with kisses again, “you have no idea what you're doing to me, Georgie.”
Suddenly, a disgruntled meow was heard next to them, and both men froze for a moment, turning their heads in the direction of the unexpected sound.
“Sassy, baby, you're at a bad time,” Max sighed, trying to shoo the cat off the bed, but she brazenly walked right up to George and settled down next to him, refusing to leave. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, George's heart filled with warmth and love, and he laughed softly, gently scratching the cat behind the ear. Max, on the other hand, was very displeased and glared at the cat.
“Don't be so territorial, Sassy. Learn to share. Georgie is mine tonight!” Max declared, forcibly taking the disgruntled cat from the bed and carrying her into the next room, muttering some curse words in Dutch under his breath, which greatly amused the Brit.
“So, where were we?” Max asked George innocently, invading his personal space again.
“We were discussing the possessive behavior of all members of the Verstappen family. Should we expect an invasion from Donat and Jimmy anytime soon?” George grinned cheerfully but then gasped when he felt a strong hand on his thigh.
“No. Today you're only mine,” Max growled, causing George to catch his breath again. He didn't mind at all, though. Max could do whatever he wanted with him.
It turns out that moving to a new apartment wasn't such a bad decision, something George will certainly never admit out loud. He should definitely reward Sassy with some treats later for her unexpected visits to his place, which brought both chaos and joy into his life. But for now, he'll probably focus entirely on her daddy and his beautiful lips and body.