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Max doesn't understand why George has gotten so much clingier lately.
George has always been affectionate—that much isn't unusual. He's always reached for Max's hand without thinking or thrown an arm around his shoulders in crowded places or stolen hugs while waiting for the kettle to boil, or stretched himself across Max on the sofa like a particularly needy cat.
But lately, it's different.
Every hug from behind somehow ends with George's hands slipping beneath the hem of Max's shirt, settling against the softness of his stomach as though they naturally belong there.
Whenever they're standing in the kitchen, George appears beside him, wraps his arms around his waist, and leaves his palms spread comfortably against his middle, absentmindedly rubbing slow circles while they wait for dinner to cook.
Or when they're watching television, George somehow ends up with one hand tucked beneath Max's hoodie, warm against bare skin.
If Max walks past him in the hallway, George catches him for no apparent reason, pulls him close for a few seconds, then lets him go again.
At night, George has started sleeping closer too.
Close enough that Max often wakes with George's arm slung heavily across his waist, his hand tucked beneath Max's T-shirt, fingers resting lazily against his stomach.
It takes Max almost three weeks to finally ask.
They're in their bedroom early in the morning while their kids are still asleep, the house wrapped in that rare kind of silence that only exists before little feet come thundering down the hallway demanding breakfast.
Max slips quietly out of bed first, careful not to wake anyone. Years of being a father have taught him how to move around a sleeping house without making a sound. He pads into the ensuite, pulls his shirt over his head, and tosses it onto the bathroom counter before leaning over the sink to splash cold water across his face.
Behind him, the mattress creaks.
George lets out a sleepy groan, instinctively reaching across the bed for his husband before his hand lands on an empty sheet.
One eye cracks open with Max's side of the bed empty.
With another quiet groan, George drags himself upright, his brunette hair sticking up in every possible direction. He sits there for a second, still half asleep, blinking slowly as his brain catches up with the fact that Max has already gotten up.
Then, he climbs out of bed and sleepily waddles towards the bathroom. He doesn't even bother opening his eyes properly.
He simply follows the familiar sound of running water until he reaches Max.
Without saying a word, George walks straight into his husband's back.
Max barely reacts anymore. He's far too used to George's morning rituals.
George lets out a content little hum, dropping his forehead between Max's shoulder blades before lifting it to rest his chin comfortably on Max's shoulder instead.
His arms slip around Max's waist.
Almost immediately, so naturally it almost seems unconscious that both of his hands settle against Max's bare stomach.
His thumbs begin tracing slow, lazy circles.
Max glances down at them.
“..You've been doing this a lot.”
George hums sleepily, “Doing what?”
“This,” Max nods towards the hand resting comfortably against his stomach.
George looks down as though he'd forgotten it was there, “Oh.”
He doesn't move it away, instead his thumb drifts absentmindedly across Max's skin again, almost instinctively
Max raises an eyebrow as he chuckles, “You don't even realise you're doing it anymore.”
“Probably not.” George smiles into his shoulder.
“You used to hug my waist.”
“Mhmmm”
“Now it's always…” Max pats the back of George's hand lightly. “….here.”
George blinks himself a little more awake, following Max's gaze to where both of his hands are spread comfortably across Max's softer middle.
“Huh, I guess they are.”
“George.” Max turns his head just enough to look at him.
“What?”
“Why?” George stays quiet for a moment, still comfortably wrapped around him, his cheek now resting against Max's shoulder.
“I didn't think you'd notice.”
“I notice when my husband suddenly develops a favourite place to put his hands.” Max scoffed in amusement.
A sleepy laugh rumbles against Max's shoulder, “Fair.”
Max shakes his head, reaching for the towel beside the sink before drying the water from his face.
“I just…” He trails off, his eyes drifting towards the mirror again almost instinctively.
George notices. Of course he noticed , how can he not?
Max stands there for a moment, towel hanging loosely around his neck, his gaze fixed on his own reflection. His shoulders are still broad, his arms still solid from years of training, but the sharp definition around his middle has slightly softened over the years. It isn’t obvious, Max still looks fit but it's enough that he sees that his body changes every time he looks.
He lets out a quiet sigh.
George loosens his arms from around Max's waist and takes a step back, walking backwards with his arms folded across his chest.
He simply watches.
Max pinches lightly at the softness around his stomach before letting his hand fall away.
“Need to start running again,” he mutters under his breath, almost as if he's talking to the reflection instead of his husband. He gives himself another once-over before huffing quietly through his nose. “Can't believe I used to have abs.”
He doesn't see what George sees.
Where Max notices the softer curve of his stomach, George notices the broad shoulders that have carried two sleepy children back to bed more times than he can count. Where Max mourns the definition he'd lost, George sees the body that's become home, the body he's fallen asleep beside for years and the one that instinctively reaches for him in the middle of the night without ever fully waking.
He waits until Max sighs for what must be the third time before speaking.
“You know,” George says quietly, “I don't think I've ever looked at you the way you look at yourself.”
Max's eyes stay fixed on the mirror. “I don't exactly look like a f1 driver anymore”
“You don't race anymore.” George smiles faintly
Max looks away from the mirror, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I just…”He searches for the words. “Sometimes I look at old photos and wonder where that guy went.”
Max looks at the old version of himself with a sharper jaw, the defined stomach, the body that belonged to a different time in his life.
George slowly reaches up, his fingers brushing along Max's jaw as he gently strokes the stubble that has started growing there.
“I don't wonder where he went.”
“No?” Max looks at him through the mirror.
George shakes his head, his fingers continue running lightly over Max's stubble, a familiar touch that makes Max relax without even noticing.
“He became someone who has a family waiting for him every morning.”
Max looks down.
George's hand drops from his jaw, sliding back down until it rests against Max's stomach again.
“He became my husband.”
The words are simple, but they make Max pause.
“The guy in those photos didn't have our kids.” George smiles faintly.
“He didn't know what it felt like to walk into a room and have two little people run towards him like he's the best thing they've ever seen.”
“He didn't know he'd spend his mornings making breakfast while pretending not to notice when they steal food from his plate.” George continues.
Max lets out a quiet laugh.
The sound is small, but George catches it immediately. He always does.
A smile spreads across George's face as he watches Max's reflection in the mirror.
“There,” George murmurs.
Max looks at him through the mirror, slightly amused.
“What?”
“That laugh.” George's smile grows as he rests his chin back on Max's shoulder. “I haven't heard you laugh at yourself in weeks. Usually you're too busy standing in front of the mirror looking like you've personally betrayed yourself.”
Max rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifts, “Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
George gives his husband's stomach one last gentle stroke before finally letting him go, though the movement is reluctant. Max turns around and for a moment they just look at each other.
Soon enough, one of their kids will wake up and call for them. The house will be filled with footsteps, questions, and the chaos they have both grown used to.
But for now, it is just them.
George reaches for Max's hand and starts gently pulling him back towards the bedroom.
“Come on.”
Max looks at their joined hands, then back at him. “Where are we going?”
“Back to bed.”
Max raises an eyebrow, already suspicious. “To sleep again?”
George pauses like he's seriously considering the question before shaking his head.
“Nope.”
Max narrows his eyes. “No?”
George turns around to face him, a small grin appearing on his face. “Not to sleep.”
A quiet laugh escapes Max because he already knows where this is going, “George.”
“What?” George softly laughs.
“We have kids!” Max shrieks but his grin betrays him.
“They're asleep,” George says easily, eyes rolled that probably solves every possible problem.
Max shakes his head, letting himself be pulled along anyway. “That doesn't mean anything. They could wake up.”
George only gives him that familiar look, the one that says he has already decided he is right and no amount of arguing is going to change his mind.
“They're asleep,” he whines, his fingers still wrapped around Max's.
Max glances towards the hallway before looking back at him. “You don't know that. You have two children. You should know by now that they can go from completely silent to screaming your name in less than five seconds.”
George laughs quietly, the sound still carrying that sleepy morning warmth. “I know. But for now, we don’t hear any small feet tumbling around and voices calling out for us, right?”
Max opens his mouth to argue, but George simply links their fingers together properly and gives his hand a gentle tug, leading him back towards their bedroom.
Soon, they reach the bedroom, the soft morning light spilling across the floor. The bed is still messy from where they left it, blankets tangled and pillows out of place, a reminder of the quiet comfort night they had before the day started.
George doesn't let go of Max's hand.
Instead, he steps closer and presses a quick kiss to his lips. It is barely more than a touch, a small and teasing kiss that feels almost unfairly short. Before Max can even react properly, George is already pulling back with that satisfied little smile on his face.
Max just stares at him for a second, still processing how quickly George managed to steal a kiss and look completely pleased with himself afterward.
Then he groans.
"Ugh, you can't do that. Give me more.”
George barely has time to tease him back before Max leans in and catches him with another kiss. Then another.
Quick little pecks that make George laugh softly in between because it is so unlike the usual dynamic between them.
“Max,” George laughs softly, his voice full of surprise as another kiss interrupts whatever he was about to say.
Max just hums, not even pretending to listen.
So when Max quietly says, “I said give me more,” with that little smile on his face which George doesn't tease him.
“Come here,” George murmurs, pushing himself closer so their lips can seal properly this time.
The kiss is slow and sweet, nothing like the quick little pecks from before. It feels softer and more familiar, like a quiet reminder of all the years they've spent loving each other.
George's hand slowly moves up, his fingers brushing along Max's broad shoulder before trailing higher to his shoulder blade. He feels the warmth of him beneath his palm, the familiar shape of the man he has held through every version of their life together.
His hand eventually finds Max's nape, fingers gently slipping through the messy dirty blonde strands as he pulls him a little closer with Max relaxing into him immediately.
The simple touch makes Max smile because it is so natural that George always reaches for him and finds some way to hold him a little tighter.
Max keeps their other hands linked as he gently guides George backwards, their lips still connected.
George follows without resistance, letting Max take the lead.
A quiet laugh escapes George when the back of his legs meets the edge of the bed but he doesn't pull away. Instead, his hand stays on Max's napes and moves to cup his jaw close as they share another long soft kiss.
Max pulls away slowly, his eyes still on George as he shakes his head with a small, amused smile.
“You're insane.”
George's lips part, already ready with a reply but Max doesn't give him the chance.
He immediately leans back in.
Max simply goes for his lips again, stealing yet another kiss before George can even process what just happened.
George lets out a quiet giggle, the sound disappearing between them as he smiles against Max's mouth.
Then, Max doesn't pull away completely instead he stays close.
His lips trail from George's lips to the corner of his mouth, then to the space just behind his ear, leaving soft, lingering kisses that make George's teasing expression soften into something warmer.
George's hand on the jaw moves to Max's hair, his fingers gently brushing through it as Max continues, moving down to his neck with the same unhurried affection, spreading all over George’s neck now.
“Look who's clingy now,”George murmurs, his voice full of amusement.
Max pauses, lifting his head slightly to look at him.
The expression on his face is somewhere between offended and embarrassed.
“Shut up,”Max mutters, though there is no real bite behind it.
George immediately grins, clearly far too pleased with himself, “Nope,I will not.”
The way he says it makes Max stare at him for a second before George breaks into a quiet giggle, completely entertained by his own teasing.
“You are so annoying,” Max says, but the small smile on his face ruins any attempt to sound serious. Max lets out a small whine, the kind that makes George laugh out loud because it is such a rare sound coming from him.
George barely has time to react before Max presses a quick kiss to his lips. Then another. The kisses are playful, almost like Max is trying to silence him rather than admit George is right.
When Max finally pauses, George is already smiling, lips now slightly swollen from the kissing.
“Oh my god,”George says, his voice full of teasing. “You really can't stop, can you? You keep interrupting me.”
Max is still close to him, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tries to pretend he isn't enjoying being called out.
George watches him for a moment, then his expression turns playful, “Do you want a number three?”
The reaction is immediate.
Max's eyes widen, and the amusement on his face disappears, replaced by pure excitement.
“No way…” he says, almost breathlessly.
George blinks, surprised by how happy he sounds.
“Blimey…” He laughs softly because it is very clear Max doesn't mean it as a rejection.
Max shakes his head quickly, his smile growing wider.
“No way, no way. No way! Holy shit.” He looks genuinely amazed by the thought like George has just offered him the best surprise in the world.
“I can make you a dad again?” Max says excitedly, the words coming out before he can even think about how ridiculous he sounds.
George lets out a laugh, staring at him, “That is the first thing you think of?”
"Yes." The answer comes so quickly that George can't help beaming.
Max doesn't even try to hide how happy he is.
"I mean, look at our kids,” he says softly, glancing towards their closed bedroom door where the kids are still sleeping in their beds across the hallway. “They're amazing.”
George's expression warms as he watches him, “Well…They are.”
“And another one…” Max trails off, already imagining it. “Another little one running around with us.”
George smiles, but then he raises an eyebrow, “Okay, but can you take it though?”
Max looks at him, confused, “Take what? Huh?”
“Three children in this household?”
The question makes Max pause.
George starts counting on his fingers, his tone becoming more dramatic.
“Three kids waking up early. Three kids asking for food every five minutes. Three kids stealing your attention. Three kids climbing all over you when you just want to sit down or play at the sim.”
Max tries not to laugh, “You're making it sound like a nightmare.”
“I’m saying it's a lot.”
"But you love the idea though.”
George doesn't even hesitate, “Pfft,Yes, I do.”
Max smiles because that is exactly his point, “And I'd love it too.”
Then, with a playful look in his eyes, Max reaches down and lightly tugs at George's waistband, raising his eyebrows at him.
“Should we do it now?”
The teasing tone is obvious but the excitement behind it makes George burst into a quiet giggle.
“Max. Stop.”
“What?”
George laughs, shaking his head as he looks at his husband while his hands slowly stroke Max’s bare stomach.
“You are unbelievable, and I'm obsessed with you for god's sake.”
“Then prove it,” Max says, his voice playful as he raises his eyebrows at him.
George lets out a laugh, already knowing where this is going because he knows Max too well.
“What again?” Max asks, trying to look innocent even though the amusement in his eyes gives him away. "You said you're obsessed with me, let’s do it, schat.”
“Come here” George places his hands on Max’s back and pulls him closer to him.
But before either of them can continue, a soft knock suddenly comes from the bedroom door.
Both of them freeze.
A small sleepy voice follows from the hallway.
“Papa? Dada?”
Max immediately closes his eyes, letting out a quiet groan as his forehead falls onto George's shoulder.
“Ugh.”
George bursts into laughter, his hand still resting against Max's back.
“The fucking timing, for god sake.”
Max stays there for a moment, refusing to move as he quietly complains into George's shoulder as he continues, “Seriously? Right now?”
George laughs, gently rubbing his back, “Go and get your kids.”
Max lifts his head slowly and gives him an offended look, “My kids now?”
George nods, completely serious, “Yes.”
Max stares at him. “Oh, so now they're my kids?”
George tries to hold back his smile, “I mean….”
Max points at him, “When they behave well, they're yours?”
George immediately bats his eyes at him, pretending to be completely innocent, “Of course.”
Max opens his mouth to argue but he knows George has him there.
Instead, he just shakes his head with a quiet laugh before slowly removing himself from George's hold.
The warmth of George's hands leaves his back as Max reaches for a clean t-shirt in the drawer, pulling it back on before walking towards the bedroom door.
Behind him, George stays sitting on the bed, watching with a fond smile because even after all these years, Max still somehow manages to make ordinary moments feel like something worth remembering.
Max opens the door and immediately, his expression softens.
Standing there is their oldest child, still sleepy from just waking up, with messy hair sticking out in every direction and a small crease on his cheek from the pillow. He has always been a little too much like Max, from the stubborn look he gets when he wants something to the way his eyebrows pull together whenever he is concentrating to his face structure in overall screams mini Max.
Sometimes it surprises Max how much of himself he sees in him. The same serious expression and little frown but when he smiles, Max sees George too.
The little softness that reminds him exactly where half of him came from.
Beside him is his younger sister, holding tightly onto her older brother's hand with her tiny fingers wrapped around his. She is smaller, still half-hidden behind him as she peeks into the room, her blonde hair slightly messy from sleep and her eyes wide with curiosity.
And those eyes.Those are unmistakably George's.
The same bright, clear eyes that always seem to give away every emotion before he even says a word. Max had noticed it the day she was born.
She had his smile, maybe she also inherited his plump lips too but the moment she opened her eyes and looked at them, there was no question.
The same ones that looked at Max like he was the most important person in the world.
“Morning,” Max says softly, crouching down to their level.
The older one looks up at him, still holding his sister's hand.
“Papa, have you wake up?”
Max smiles, trying not to laugh at the sleepy question.
“Yeah, I did.”
The little girl looks past him into the room, her eyes immediately searching.
“Dada?”
George appears behind Max, leaning against the doorway with a smile.
“I'm here.”
The moment they see him, both kids brighten.
Their daughter reaches her free hand towards him, and George immediately bends down to pick her up, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck without hesitation.
Max watches the way she settles against him, those familiar eyes blinking sleepily as she rests her head on George's shoulder.
It is a sight Max knows he will never get tired of.
Max smiles quietly to himself before turning his attention to their son, who is still standing by the doorway with his messy hair and sleepy expression.
“Come here,” Max says softly.
The older boy walks over, and Max gently pats his hair down, though the strands immediately spring back into place.
“Wow, You look like you had a really good sleep.”
The boy looks up at him seriously. “Papa… I dream of being in an F1 car and I won the championship just like you and Dada!”
Max has to hold back a laugh, “Of course you did.”
George hears it and laughs from behind him, “Wow, Definitely a Verstappen.”
Max shakes his head. “He's just confident.”
Their son looks between them, clearly still frizzled from his sleep but already knowing he is somehow involved. “Papa, Dada, I need to join karting first.”
“Of course, buddy.” Max pats his son’s back.
George smiles and adjusts their daughter in his arms.
“Come on, breakfast.”
The suggestion immediately gets a reaction.
"Pancakes?" their son asks hopefully.
Max looks at George. “Was that a question or a demand?”
George smiles. “Definitely a demand.”
Their daughter lifts her head slightly from George's shoulder, her sleepy eyes moving between them.
“Pancakes, Dada.”she mumbles, copying her brother even though she is barely awake.
That makes both parents laugh.
George presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, smiling as she immediately relaxes back against him.
“Of course you want pancakes too,” he murmurs. “You heard your brother and decided that was the answer.”
She only hums, completely satisfied with her decision.
The kitchen slowly fills with the sounds of their morning—the clinking of plates and the kids babbling over each other with George trying to keep up with both of them while Max prepares the pancakes they requested.
It is nothing like the quiet mornings they used to have and somehow, Max wouldn't trade it for anything.
As he places a plate in front of them, he catches his reflection in the kitchen window.
For a second, he notices the things he used to focus on but then he hears his daughter laughing at something George says. Then, he feels his son tugging at his shirt, asking if he can have another pancake because his sister took his.
He looks at George, who catches his eye from across the kitchen and smiles at him like he is still the most beautiful person in the room.
And suddenly, those things don't matter as much anymore.
He spent so much time missing the person he used to be but that person was never gone.
He was just older now. A husband and a father.