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~~~ MAX ~~~
When Max saw Daniel approaching the Red Bull garage after they’d both crashed out on the Baku circuit, he had half a mind to hide in his driver room. He knew it was much too soon for them to confront each-other; they were both still high on anger and frustration, and the events of the day were bleeding raw in their minds. Max didn’t want to say anything he regretted.
But everything happened too quickly, and at his core he was still Max Verstappen. He never ran from a fight.
Daniel struck first.
“Are you fucking happy?”
Max had never seen Daniel so livid, his dark eyes blown wide with anger. The Aussie’s hand, which held his helmet at his side, was shaking, and something inside Max shuddered. But Daniel would never hurt him. He knew that.
And yet the pure rage in the older man’s eyes, usually so filled with kindness and love when he looked at Max, made the young Dutchman hesitate.
Maybe he should have taken that as a cue to deescalate the situation. But, again, he was Max Verstappen, and there was a reason he was known as the Dutch lion.
“You were the one who crashed into me,” he said. He hadn’t seen the replay, but he knew it had been Daniel’s fault. Max had only defended against Dan’s attempt to overtake him, and Dan had braked much too late into the corner. By that line of logic, he knew he wasn’t in the wrong here.
But he could already sense the media siding with Daniel, though no articles had even been written yet. The public loved Daniel, after all (Max couldn’t blame them), and Max only had a reputation for being hot-headed and clashing with other drivers.
And that knowledge only made Max angrier, more defensive.
“You’re allowed one move to stave me off,” Daniel growled. “You moved twice. What the hell was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know, not crash into me?!” Max exclaimed in disbelief. He could not believe that Dan didn’t see the truth. He wasn’t going to admit to being in the wrong when, for once, it hadn’t been his fucking fault.
Dan would see reason, right? He loved Max, after all.
They’d been together for going on six months now, and they’d never fought like this. Hungary 2017 had been a bump in the road, but that was before they’d gotten together and they’d been able to move past it pretty quickly.
But Hungary had been Max’s fault and he’d admitted to it right away. Something he wished Daniel would do now.
“You are a literal child,” Daniel groaned. He banged his helmet on the wall next to him, and Max flinched instinctively.
“What do you mean?!” Max asked, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “It was not my fault!”
“You ruined my race!”
“Daniel…” Max started. Though his voice still carried so much frustration, he really didn’t want to fight. He was in the right. He knew he was right. But he didn’t want Daniel to be angry with him. He didn’t want Daniel to—
“Jeepers,” Daniel interrupted him, fixing him with a disappointed, tired stare. “You’re just like your fucking father.”
Max froze.
The silence stretched painfully, Daniel’s face still contorted in anger and Max grasping for words.
“What?” he whispered finally, so softly he didn’t even know if his vocal chords were still working.
Something in Dan’s gaze changed then, but before Max could say anything—do anything— he heard footsteps approaching and cleared his throat, though the sound caught on the way out, sounding like a dry heave.
“Max, we’re having a huddle,” GP said, appearing beside them, his face solemn. “Come on.”
Max couldn’t focus. He was fidgeting in his seat and barely registered the voices around him. He heard Helmut berating him, and then Christian came in to say his two cents—the team principal was calmer, more level-headed, but Max didn’t miss the disappointment in his voice.
But really, Max’s mind was not in that room, because Daniel’s words were still replaying themselves in his head, like a cruel tape on repeat.
“You’re just like your fucking father.”
He hadn’t seen his father in almost seven months… almost the same amount of time that he and Daniel had been together. He’d always had a rocky relationship with his father, but when he was growing up he knew no better than to idolize him. Max winced when he thought of the fateful vacation in Italy when his father had left him alone at a gas station. But when Daniel came into his life, he saw instantly that the Aussie despised Jos, and it took Max a long while to understand why. When Daniel finally made him realize that his relationship with his father was horribly toxic, he’d helped Max bring the issue up with Christian, and they’d collectively banned Jos from the Red Bull hospitality.
But perhaps the most important thing that Dan had done for Max was make him realize that he deserved better than his father’s constant berating and violent outbursts. In the last six months alone, Max could feel himself changing, becoming a better person. He’d opened up more to the other drivers, made friends, even. He was happier. He knew he didn’t have to be an ice-cold machine to be a good driver. He deserved to enjoy racing… to be happy… to be loved… It took Max a long while to accept that, but he finally did.
And now, with six words, Daniel had thrown all of that into doubt again.
Daniel was the only person who’d believed in him when all the other drivers had written him off as yet another Jos-type asshole. Daniel was the only person who understood him—the only person who saw the real Max behind his cold façade and knew that his stoic disposition and tendencies toward bluntness were just a cover for his own insecurity.
Even when Max thought he was impossible to love, Daniel had found a way. Daniel was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and Max knew deep inside that it was never going to last. He could never be good enough for Dan.
And if even Daniel thought Max was just like his father, maybe he really was.
~~~ DANIEL ~~~
“Have you seen Max?”
“Ah, no, sorry.”
Daniel groaned as he passed yet another Red Bull mechanic, all of whom didn’t seem to know where Max had gone off to after his debrief meeting with Helmut and GP after the race.
His mind was running on overdrive. Where the fuck had Max gone? They were supposed to head back to the hotel in the same car, but Daniel had waited in the parking lot and never saw Max come out of the garage.
Shit, Daniel thought, trying to call Max again and sighing when it went straight to voicemail. Panic was rising in his chest. Please call me back, Max. Please.
He went back to the garage, which was almost empty now, and sat down next to his car with his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe he’d told Max that he was just like his father. He couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth.
But Daniel was only human; Max was not the only one prone to angry outbursts. Most people expected his happy-go-lucky personality to permeate through all aspects of his life, but he had an impatient side too. He was just as competitive as Max. Just as hungry—hell, maybe even more so because he was older and he knew he had less time to achieve his dreams.
But he hadn’t meant it when he compared Max to Jos. In that moment, he’d just seen red and said the one thing he knew would hurt Max most.
And he felt like fucking dick.
He’d promised himself he would never hurt Max. Not intentionally, anyway. Max had experienced enough hurt in his life—Jos had seen to that. And Dan had sworn to protect him.
Fuck, he thought. I promised him I’d be his safe space.
Everyone called Max the hot-head—Daniel had always hated how much the media villainized him—but here Daniel was, having wielded his own anger to hurt the person he loved most. Yeah, he really felt like fucking dick.
And he really needed to find Max.
“Nico?”
Daniel was officially in full-blown panic mode. He’d gone back to the driver hotel in Baku but still had no idea where Max was. Though the team had issued them separate rooms, they’d been staying in Dan’s the whole race weekend. But when Dan had entered his dark hotel room, there was no sign that Max had been there. He had no idea what Max’s own room number is, and despite his best begging efforts, neither Christian, GP (he hadn’t bothered asking Helmut), nor the concierge at the front desk would tell him.
But Dan didn’t want another minute to pass with Max thinking that Dan didn’t love him. That Dan thought he was like Jos. So Dan resorted to calling Max’s friends, starting with the two other drivers he knew Max interacted with most.
“Yeah?” a very annoyed Nico Hulkenberg responded on the other end of the line.
“Uh, it’s Daniel.”
“Oh,” Nico said, sounding confused.
Daniel remembered that Nico had had a pretty shit race too with his early DNF, and felt a little bad for calling out of the blue. But that didn’t matter right now.
“Do you happen to know where Max is?” Daniel asked. “Or… have you spoken with him after the race?”
“I don’t know, but I think he got a ride back to the hotel with Pierre—”
“Oh!” Daniel said, perking up. It was the first piece of useful information he’d actually been able to gather. He immediately searched for Pierre’s number on his cell phone.
“I’m assuming you’re going to go call Pierre?”
“Oh,” Daniel paused, forgetting for a millisecond that the German was still on the line. “Yeah, sorry.”
Nico let out an amused sound. “It’s fine. Good luck, man.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said. “And I’m sorry about your race, mate. That was nasty luck.”
“Well, I’m not in your shoes so I’m happy for that.”
Daniel swallowed. “Yeah.”
Pierre took a while to answer the phone, and picked up just when Daniel expected it to go to voicemail.
“Hey, Daniel…” Pierre said, and from the Frenchman’s uncharacteristically apprehensive tone Daniel instantly knew that Max was with him.
“Is Max there?”
“Daniel, listen…” Pierre sighed.
“He’s there, isn’t he?” Dan interrupted, desperation creeping into his voice.
“He’s asleep right now, but he doesn’t want to speak with you, Daniel…” Pierre whispered.
Daniel exhaled, tears beginning to prick at his eyes. Fuck.
“I just… I really need to speak with him,” Daniel tried, though he knew Pierre was as steadfast a friend as any and wouldn’t let him speak to Max if Max didn’t want that. “I need to apologize.”
“I know, Daniel,” Pierre said. “He’s just… he’s asleep, okay? Maybe try again later?”
Daniel swallowed thickly and almost tried begging Pierre again, but clutched onto his last bit of self-restraint.
“Okay,” he whispered.
~~~ MAX ~~~
Max sighed heavily as he rolled over, in and out of a fitful sleep. He’d left Pierre’s room a few hours ago and made for his own hotel room, thanking Pierre for being there for him. He hadn’t told the Frenchman exactly what had happened between him and Dan, and he was grateful that he hadn’t asked. He and Pierre had grown close over the past year, and Max was grateful for his friendship.
As he grabbed his phone from his bedside table to text the Frenchman a thank you note, he groaned when he realized he hadn’t plugged it into the charger before falling asleep.
Before his phone had died, he’d seen that Daniel had called him a few times, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer, or to open his texts. The hurt was too raw, and the last thing he wanted to do was risk opening up the text messages to see that Dan had broken up with him. He wasn’t ready.
He wasn’t ready to come to terms with the fact that the past six months with Dan were all he was ever going to get.
When his doorbell rang, it jolted Max out of his thoughts.
Who the fuck was that?
His mind immediately went to Daniel, and he sighed. Of course Dan had managed to convince someone to give him Max’s hotel room number.
Max hesitated before getting out of bed. He almost wished he’d just opened all those texts from Daniel, because having the love of your life break up with you over text would be easier than having him break up with you in person.
Max scrounged up the last bit of his strength and opened the door, vowing that he’d keep his composure.
When turned the doorknob and let the door fling open, the person on the other side was not the person he expected. His heart lurched.
“Dad?”
~~~ DANIEL ~~~
A few days later, they were back in the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, and Daniel was determined to find Max and apologize. He still hadn’t been successful at getting his boyfriend to respond to any of his attempts at communication, and he’d finally stopped in hopes that maybe Max just needed a little bit of space.
That had to be it, right?
As he and Michael checked off various appointments throughout the day—analyzing some data from the last few races, going through some new exercises Michael had come up with to improve his performance—Daniel was insanely distracted. He was counting down the minutes to the 12pm team meeting that both he and Max would both be attending.
But when noon finally came around and Daniel entered the main meeting room, he stuttered to a halt.
What the fuck?
It had been a long time since Daniel had been shocked to his core like this, because sitting on one of the seats at the long conference room table was Jos fucking Verstappen.
And he was right next to Max.
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
Beside him, Michael bristled as well. Daniel knew his best friend shared both his contempt for Jos and his protectiveness of Max.
Christian looked at him as if he’d expected the outburst and immediately moved to stand between Daniel and the conference room table, preventing him from launching himself across the surface and decking Jos in the face.
“Max!” Daniel exclaimed at his boyfriend—was he still his boyfriend? Max was avoiding Dan’s gaze deliberately, and the Aussie felt helpless. “Max, what the fuck is going on?”
“I knew this was a bad idea. We should have had separate meetings,” Helmut groaned, sitting back in his chair, and Daniel wanted to deck him too.
But he was too confused to focus. Jos was there, sitting right next to Max, looking as smug as Daniel had ever seen him. Max looked so small, so scared… looking down at the floor as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. It was so unlike the Max that Dan knew.
God, what had Jos done?
“Max, talk to me!” Daniel practically screamed before Christian and Michael exchanged a glance and manhandled him out of the conference room. Daniel struggled, but he was no match for the two men holding him back.
The door slammed shut, Daniel lost sight of Max, and he felt his whole world spinning.
“Christian,” he said, his voice low and dangerous as he turned toward the older man. “Why is Jos back?”
Christian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I know it’s a shock, Daniel,” he sighed. “But he came in with Max this morning, and Max confirmed he wanted his Dad back on his race team. And I can’t ban him from the garage if Max wants him here.”
“You know that’s not true! You know that asshole has hurt Max,” Daniel said instantly, eyes wide with disbelief. “And Jos must be manipulating him now. Jeepers, surely you can’t be that stupid!”
“Daniel, there’s nothing I can do,” Christian said, and for a moment Daniel really believed that his team principal was sorry.
But wasn’t fucking good enough.
~~~ MAX ~~~
Max struggled for breath as he entered his small driver room at the Red Bull factory. Ever since his father had wiggled his way back into Max’s life, the young Dutchman felt like he had no control over anything.
Max had really tried to stand up for himself when Jos had appeared at his hotel room in Baku a few nights ago. But his resolve had already been weakened by the race and the whole ordeal with Daniel. So when his father had started telling him what a disappointment he was, how foolish he’d been to let Daniel crash into him, Max felt his strength crumble. He’d instinctively made to reach for his phone and call Daniel… he always went to Daniel first whenever he needed someone to comfort him… but he knew the Aussie wouldn’t want to hear from him.
He’d really tried to protect himself from Jos, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was probably better off with him. If he was no better than his father, maybe it was best for them to stick together.
Max struggled to pull himself together when Jos followed him into his driver room.
“I thought you were together with Dan?” Jos said, his voice still laced with judgment.
Max swallowed. He’d hoped that his father would let the subject slide. He didn’t want to talk about Dan.
Seeing the Aussie that afternoon had nearly broken him. He’d avoided his boyfriend—ex-boyfriend’s?—gaze as best he could, because he knew that the moment he locked eyes with him he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from running into his arms. And that would’ve been pretty embarrassing. Though he hadn’t had the guts to listen to Daniel’s many voicemails, Max had opened Dan’s text messages and saw that he wanted to apologize.
He’d been hopeful… had almost texted Daniel back… but now, with Jos back in his life after so long, something stopped him. His father wouldn’t approve of him texting Daniel, after all.
“Max, I asked you a question.”
Max looked up to meet his father’s hard stare.
“No, we… we broke up,” he whispered. He didn’t even know if that was true. Were they broken up? Were they just fighting? Max had never been in a relationship before. He didn’t know how these things worked – Daniel had always helped him.
“He broke up with you?”
Max nodded, averting his gaze. He desperately wanted his father to stop talking.
But instead, Jos smiled.
“Good,” he said. “I knew he would. You’re not like him, Max. He’s a good driver, but he doesn’t have the chops to be World Champion. You do. And to get there you need to be ruthless. That’s what we are. And now you just need to focus on beating him.”
Max slumped down on the small seating area. He closed his eyes briefly and nodded. It had been nice feeling like he was just like all the other drivers, like he could be a part of their group and consider them all his friends. A part of him hated himself for not being able to banish his father from his life on his own, but maybe his dad was right. Maybe this was for the best.
~~~ DANIEL ~~~
As soon as Daniel got out of his car and ripped his helmet and balaclava off, his eyes searched desperately for Max.
Both Red Bulls had had an underwhelming qualifying for the Spanish Grand Prix, with Max finishing fifth and Daniel sixth, and Daniel just knew that Jos would not be happy with his son. And he knew what that could mean for Max.
He had to find him right away.
He jumped through the crowd of mechanics, seeing Max’s own car parked on the other side of the garage but the Dutchman nowhere to be found. Daniel raced to Max’s driver room, finding it empty as well. He was just about to pull his phone out when he heard shouting coming from just outside the garage, by the motorhomes.
“You went wide at three corners! What do you expect when you make stupid mistakes like that!”
Daniel could already feel his blood boiling, his hands shaking by his side, as he came up behind one of the motorhomes to see Jos backing Max against the wall of the building. Max looked positively terrified.
“Get the fuck away from him!” Daniel yelled immediately.
Jos whipped around, eyes narrowed like two vials of poison.
“This is none of your business,” Jos snapped. “Leave us alone. This is between me and my fucking son.”
“Get away from him or I swear to God, I will end you,” Daniel retorted immediately.
“Why do you care so much, Ricciardo?” Jos scoffed. “Just go off and enjoy your day.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and turned to Max instead, whose beautiful blue eyes were wide with confusion and fear. When they locked eyes, Daniel could feel all his affection for the man rush up into his lungs.
“Max, come here,” he whispered, his voice pleading. “I’m sorry.”
“He’s just talking bull, son,” Jos said, taking another step toward Max. “He’s trying to manipulate you. Teammate tactics.”
Daniel shook his head, eyes still locked with Max.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” Daniel said. “I can’t even believe that I said it. And you don’t need to forgive me… but please, just… don’t let him control you. He’s an asshole. You don’t need him.”
Daniel could see Max’s eyes widen, and he hoped he was getting through to him. God, Daniel wished he could reach out and stroke Max’s cheek.
“Please, Max,” he whispered again. “I love you.”
Daniel held his arms out, and he nearly sobbed in relief when Max stepped around his father and launched himself into Daniel’s embrace. Daniel immediately looked up, trying to anticipate Jos doing something stupid, but to his surprise Jos’ eyes just darkened before he stalked away menacingly. Daniel didn’t doubt that he’d be back.
“Fuck,” he breathed, burying his nose in Max’s hair—grateful for a second that he wasn’t wearing his typical Red Bull cap. “I’m so sorry, Max. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He held onto Max so tightly he was afraid he was cutting off circulation, but then he realized Max was holding on just as tightly.
“I can’t believe I…” Daniel muttered, still hating himself so much for everything that had happened.
“No, I… I’m sorry… for letting my dad back in, I—”
“Stop, Maxy,” Daniel said, cupping both of Max’s cheeks in his hands, wiping away the few tears streaming down his face. “This wasn’t your fault. Your father is a fucking asshole, and he’s good at manipulating people.”
“I know,” Max said. “But I should’ve been able to tell him to fuck off… but I was so scared…”
Daniel nodded. “I know, darling… Fuck, I wish I could take back everything I said after Baku. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just… I was a fucking fool, and I left you right in his path, and… fuck, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Max shook his head, still clutching onto Daniel like he was his lifeline. “I’ve said stupid shit too after races… you know that. I don’t blame you. I just… I couldn’t help but think you may be right. My dad raised me, after all. I was raised to be ruthless, and blunt, and really just not so nice, so—”
“Don’t even continue with that, Max,” Daniel said firmly, shaking his head. “I love you. And you’re nothing like your father. You’re kind, and funny, and you care about the other drivers. Yeah, you’re blunt, but I love that about you too. You don’t beat around the bush. You always call me out for my shit—” he chuckled. “You’re perfect to me, and I never ever want you to think you’re anything like your piece of shit Dad. You both have the same last name, but the comparison ends there, okay?”
Max looked at Daniel, gratitude swirling in his eyes, and though Daniel knew it would take some time for them to really overcome the fight and for Max’s wounds to really heal, he hoped this was a good first step.
He’d do everything in his power to make sure Max never doubted how much he loved him ever again. But for now, he was grateful for Max’s warmth against his chest, right where he belonged.
~~~ MAX ~~~
Max’s smile was beaming when he went up on the podium for his third place finish in Spain the next day. He looked at the sea of people below him, and his grin got even wider when he saw Daniel cheering with Pierre. Daniel was making his regular silly noises—“Gee, gee, gee!”—and Max couldn’t hold back a happy laugh.
Later that evening, when Max was wrapped around Daniel in his driver room, he felt so much love swell in his chest that he was almost overwhelmed by it.
“Fuck, you made me so proud out there, darling,” Daniel whispered on his lips.
Max moaned when Daniel didn’t skip a beat, palming him through his racing suit. He threw his head back, and Daniel latched himself onto the vast expanse of his throat, sucking hickeys into his pale skin.
“Daniel,” Max gasped, feeling his boyfriend’s thigh rutting against his hardness. “Please.”
As Daniel reached to unzip his racing suit, they heard a sudden knock at the door.
Fuck, Max thought, panic bleeding into his chest. That had to be his father, right? He hadn’t seen him at the podium celebration or at the garage after the race, but he knew his father would find him somehow.
“Max, you in there?”
It was someone speaking in Dutch, but it didn’t sound like his father.
“Uh, yes, one second,” Max said as he and Daniel got up hurriedly and tried not to look like they’d just been seconds away from fucking.
When the door opened a few seconds later, a familiar blond Renault driver stood in the doorway, arms crossed in front of him and leaning on the doorframe.
“Well, sorry for interrupting your makeup sex,” he said dryly, raising an eyebrow.
“You weren’t—”
“We weren’t—”
Daniel and Max shared a glance after talking over each-other and burst into chuckles.
“Right, of course not,” Nico smirked. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Jos is gone. He went back to Amsterdam.”
“What?” Max asked, confused. He thought for certain that his father would stick around to convince Max to keep him on his race team, armed with more manipulation tactics. There was no way Jos Verstappen would have given up so easily.
“Well, I may have impersonated a Dutch tax collector and accused him of tax fraud,” Nico said, shrugging. “Pierre helped me do some research to know exactly what to say to frighten him, and I guess it worked.”
“Are you fucking serious, mate?” Daniel asked.
Max, however, was almost in hysterics. “I can’t believe you did that! I can’t believe it worked!”
Nico shrugged again. “Well, I honestly didn’t think it would, but I guess your Dad’s dumber than you think.”
Max grinned again and wrapped Nico in a grateful hug, Dan joining in with a laugh.
“It’s not going to keep him away forever, but I figured by the time he finds out he’s been duped, you’ll be able to figure out how to get him banned for life again,” he said. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your… not-makeup sex.”
When Nico had left, Max turned back to Daniel, fixing him with a gaze so happy that it made him feel like he could take on the entire world and win. As long as Daniel was by his side.
“Thank you, Daniel,” he said, pulling him into another kiss.
“For what, Maxy?” Daniel chuckled.
“For all of this. For loving me… Everything.”