Work Text:
“The car is fucked.” Max says, and you slam your head against a coffee table. He's not wrong, is the worst part. The car is not anywhere near as dominant as last year, and you know that, but you also know that there's a difference in there being an issue, in Max saying there's an issue mid-race, and in telling the press afterwards. You wanted a break, not even from work but from the pressure, just for a day, but Max Verstappen doesn't allow for that.
You sigh, you pull up the F1 rulebook and the car's blueprints, and you prepare for a long night. Max Verstappen has decided to hurl press at you, so you must rise to the occasion. You're used to sabotage, of course you are, but from your driver? It stings.
You're making alterations, comparing performance data and when you get in the following race weekend to slide into your race engineer seat, you can tell Max is pissed still. “Community service for swearing? I mean, and I said the car is fucked, which it is-”
“Right. Well, we are all doing our best to mitigate the drawbacks you're feeling.” You say, doing your best to be polite.
“I shouldn't have felt them.” Max says. He's not necessarily wrong, you're still trying to work out the difference between last season and this one, because it's gone horrifically. Max hasn't fucked it up, and in many ways you get his frustration. “I'm not digging into your performance, I know you're doing that enough.” You say. “We're going to have the best race we can.”
“It is not going to be a world record.”
“Well, then it's not world record.” You snap. “I'm trying to be nice, I get the car is suboptimal, we're fixing it. Are you gonna keep whining like a bitch or are you gonna get in the fucking car?”
“Fine.” Max says, sliding his helmet on.
He comes third to the Ferraris in Pirelli. It's 10 seconds difference. He's still pissed as he exits the car, and GP’s been clearly getting angry at his attitude even as GP continued to be his usual paternal self. Max storms to the media pen and you exchange a glance with GP. “Go.” GP says. “Call him a dickhead.”
“I-”
“Poca.” He says, levelling a glare. “Go, tell him not to fuck all the engineers over.”
You nod, and try to casually jog to Max. “GP said to ask you don't make all the engineers’ lives difficult.”
“I bet he did.” Max says, rounding on you. You stare at him. “Verstappen, four time world champion, I cannot say I'm impressed. It might be your job to extract performance, and you do it well, but we have some young ones in the garage and I won't have you being a dick.”
“I wasn't going to shout about the car.” He says. “It deserves it, but-”
“Jesus fucking Christ, we all want the Championship. This is-”
“Shut up.” Max says, and you open your mouth to complain before his glance at some newly emerged cameras silences you. “It's okay, poca. I won't.”
“Poca?”
“GP calls you that.” Max says with a shrug. You raise an eyebrow.
“Only GP calls me that.”
“But it suits you, klein.” He says. “I will go speak to the wolves now.”
“Yeah. And you'll behave?”
“Yes.” He says tiredly.
“Fine. Go.” You say, turning on your heel and storming back to the garage. Max watches you, a bemused smile on his face before he turns to the reporters. “An okay result, of course, Charles and Carlos are immensely talented drivers…”
GP ruffles your hair as he pulls up race data. You slide next to him as you pull up blueprints of the car, ready to tear the fucking thing apart. “Poca…” He says, looking at you.
“It's… whatever. The car is shit, he's right.”
“The car's still capable of podiums.”
“Max is a world champion. The car should be giving him victories.”
“I love Max, but he is also a dickhead. Ferrari has a good car.”
“We don't.” You say tiredly.
“We do, it just isn't first place this time.” GP says.
“We should be. It's not like we're splitting attention between both drivers.” You say. GP sighs.
You work in silence until Max returns. Engineers that don't know him congratulate you, while those of you familiar with him stay out of his way. Max is smiling occasionally, at least, not snapping at the newer engineers, for which you're grateful. He walks over to you and slides down in the chair next to you, glancing at high-tech blueprints with a knowledge of only fundamentals. He watches you for a moment until your eyes flick to him, raising an eyebrow.
“Look, I…” He says, swallows, and glances down at the blueprints. “You were right.”
“That looked like it hurt.” You say.
“It did.” Max says flippantly. “But the engineers don't need the media pressure, and that's my fault.”
“Yep.” You say, scrawling a note about the downforce.
“Kind of is.” GP says beside you.
“Okay? I'm trying here, Jeep.” Max protests.
“You're not a kid anymore. You're right about the car, but there are a hundred different things you can do about that.” GP says.
“I'm not an engineer.” Max says petulantly. “And I'm trying to apologise here.”
“Could've fooled me.” You say sarcastically, and Max grins.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve much worse.” You say with a small smile. Max puts his hands up in surrender, and says, “Look, I'm meant to be in a cooldown room.”
“Go find Charles then.” You say. “I'm sure he'll appreciate you Maxplaining the race to him.”
“You wound me.” He says, hopping up from his chair. He huffs, “Fine, klein,” and is sashaying out of the garage and into the cooldown room.
You let your head slam onto the table. GP laughs in surprise, and you bash it again. “You alright, poca?”
“Yes.” You say. “I am fucking peachy. If I think about Max Verstappen once more I am going to attempt pre-mortem mummification.”
“Okay.” GP says. “Go get some food.”
You end up sat in a corner on the floor, scooping pot noodle out of the cup with a fork, surrounded by blueprints still. You can't see how to get more power through the engine, you can't see how to fix the chassis, you can't see it. You're ready to make good in your promise and attempt to scoop your brain out through your nostril when GP spots you and sighs.
“Poca, put the prints away.”
“Car isn't fast enough.”
“How much have you slept?”
“Uh. 18 hours.”
“That's not true.” GP says. You wrinkle your brow, and protest, “It is!”
“Across what time period?”
“Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to.” You shrug. “The last week.”
“Poca.” GP says, crouching down on old knees to gather your blueprints. “You are no use this sleep deprived.”
“Didn't make a good car on enough sleep either.” You say. “Maybe I am no use.”
“Go lie down.” GP orders. “That's as your superior.”
“Jeep.” You protest, but GP simply finishes collecting your notes, places them on the table and takes the finished pot noodle from your hands.
“That was an order, poca.”
“Fine.” You sigh, heading to the break room and burying yourself in the sofa. Embarrassingly, despite the loud music perpetually in Redbull, you're asleep within minutes.
When you wake, it's to an irate Max Verstappen discussing working hard and giving it our all and dozing on the job. You keep your eyes closed, centering yourself and focusing on maintaining your steady breathing. You hear GP's voice, “Back off, Max.”
“No, it is ridiculous, she tells me we are working hard and then-”
“Max. She has gotten 19 hours sleep in the last week, including the hour now. I would not want to start spouting sanctimonious shit about contracted hours.”
You let your eyes flutter open, burying your head in the crook of your elbow. “Whazzit?” You groan, finally glancing at the two.
“Great job, Max.” GP says. “The Redbull music cannot wake her but you can.”
“Morning.” Max says dryly.
“Afternoon.” You say. “Don't you have a party or some shit?”
“I don't celebrate third place.” Max says haughtily.
“Oh, no, I know, that was a subtle hint for you to kindly leave.” You say. “Ah, wait, nevermind, I can leave.” And you swing your legs over the sofa again, standing up too fast but ignoring the spots creeping over your vision to walk out. You accidentally brush past Max on the way out as a result, but you can't be bothered to issue an apology - frankly, Verstappen deserves worse. GP sighs. “Poca, you better not be driving home.”
“Drove here alright.” You say. Behind you, GP turns to Max. “Max, will you…”
“Oh.” Max says.
“Absolutely not.” You say. “I would rather pay the exorbitant tourist taxi fee and get murdered in a seedy back alley.”
“Seems a little extreme.” Max says.
“I'm fine to drive, see?” You declare. “Got an hour nap!”
“That's not enough.” GP says. “Max.”
“Fine! Let's go, klein. Same hotel.” He says, keys jingling. You groan, before you realise you probably shouldn't be driving, actually. “Fine. Thank you.” You say, buckling your seatbelt. Max grins, and with that, he sets off into Italian streets at a pace tame for Max but definitely not tame for the speed limit. You grip the handle, and he laughs, “Live a little, klein.”
“I would like to live a lot!” You say, watching him cruise at a casual 70 on a 50 limit. Max laughs, but, to his credit, you reach the hotel safe, sound and decidedly soon. He stops the car in the parking lot and grins. “I love driving.”
“Mhm.” You say shakily.
“Come on, klein, GP would have my head if I didn't force you to sleep after interrupting your nap.”
“But the car-”
“Klein, the car is fucked. That is a fact. You will not fix it in this state.”
“Would too.”
“Do not argue with me, dropje, I am more stubborn than you. Knowing GP, he put you next to him, ja?”
“Yes.” You say, because he always does.
“Excellent.” Max says, guiding you to an elevator with a hand on your shoulder. It's perfectly professional until you see a camera flash. In an instant, Max's expression shifts, going to professional masks. He does not move his hand, you both know that will be an admission of something, but he strides on even as he drops his head to hide his face. He covers yours, two, his large fingers splaying to give you an approximation of privacy as he storms through the hotel and calls the lift. It's a series of split second decisions, honed reflexes and the like.
“I will speak to Redbull about the privacy issue.” He says grumpily. “You do not get this in Monaco, you only have people and their phones - here, it is a zoo.”
“Yeah.” You agree, mind still spinning. The lack of sleep didn't bother you until your body remembered how nice sleep was and how unpleasant exhaustion made you feel. “Dropje, you must not push yourself this far again.” Max instructs, having piled you into the lift to the eighth floor. “It is not good for you.”
“I need more time.” You protest.
“Over a hundred people work for Redbull. You are brilliant, GP says, but no one is that brilliant on less than 20 hours of sleep across a whole week.”
“Well, it shouldn't have affected today, I got 4 hours last night.”
“You say that like it's an achievement.”
“Well, is it not?”
“No. It is not.”
“Why are you lecturing me anyway? I would've thought you'd understand.”
“Oh, I understand.” Max says, turning to face you in a way that made you think, were you not so… pathetic right noe, that he'd slam you against the wall. “I understand perfectly. I karted in every weather, I pushed myself to the brink, I am chronically employed, I can tell you I put in the most work of any driver confidently, knowing that I am better than anyone else in the world. I understand dedication, dropje. I just do not think it's good to be pushing yourself past the point of utility. Frankly, you are lucky GP saw you before me.”
“You were mad about it.”
“I was mad that a woman who accused me of being too harsh on the team was sleeping when she should be working. I did not realise you had been working when you should have been sleeping.”
You're about to protest, but a yawn cuts you off. You scrub at your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to get the debris of sleepiness out of them. Max laughs softly, and for a moment, you think you like this Max Verstappen - the one who scolds you gently and laughs sweetly. Then, you think you might be delirious. It's a relief when the elevator shudders to a stop and you at last can escape its metal confine. Max insists on walking you to your room, gesturing at his own. It's the other side of GP's. Privileges were afforded to GP's favourite driver and his favourite engineer, it seems - his pseudo-children.
You enter your room, kick your shoes off and fall into bed, and sleep overtakes you once more. You wake up to your alarm and several missed texts, roll over to switch the beeping off and realise you've thoroughly slept through dinner and right to the following morning.
GP: Max says you both got there okay. Hope you sleep for once, you stubborn child. Don't run yourself into the ground.
Max: if you arent asleep rn im gonna be pissed. i dont like having to worry about my team.
You ignore both texts, swinging out of bed and padding over to your laptop. You lost time yesterday, and with a clear head, GP won't make you sleep for a while now. With a self satisfied smirk, you pull up the car's details and begin attempting to make a simulation for it. Max's favourite simulator is a good one, and you find yourself pulling up someone's open source code for it, fiddling and altering it. Then, it's 9, and you're dressed and out of the door.
You're in your coziest clothes to travel home in - a jumper and joggers, though you do make sure they're matching. You glance at the car park in annoyance and huff, knowing that you'll have to order an Uber. You're willing to face the hotel restaurant first, and GP spots you, already in there. GP loves a fry up. He waves you over and you go easily, slotting yourself into his table.
“Hey, poca. You look rested.” He says, and you detect smugness. You glower, and he laughs, tipping his head back. Watching his smile, you can't help but allow yourself one. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, you're not the one who has to get an Uber to the race track to pick up and return their car.”
“Ah. Yeah, tough break, small.” He says. “I'd offer but I have a flight to catch in an hour."
“I know.” You say. “It's okay, I'll just… pay. Easier in the light of day or whatever.” And you're starting your breakfast.
Max settles down next to you easily. “You're here?” You ask.
“Yes. I am not eating this… is it called food at this point?”
“Okay, snob.”
“You look like you slept. Good.”
“Dic-”
“Poca.” GP snaps. You sigh.
“Sorry.” You say unapologetically. Max grins.
“Have you called your Uber?”
“No.” You say, glancing at him.
“I will drive.” He announces, standing up again and sending a dirty glance at the food. He's not wrong - the bacon is dry, the croissant is a little stale. “We will pick up food on the way, ja?”
“Fine. Bye, Jeep.” You say, waving. GP looks at you, still chewing, and waves back as Max hurries towards the exit.
“In a rush?”
“Yes, I might catch something in here.”
“Why did you come, anyway?” You ask, dogging at his longer strides. Max is silent for a beat, before he replies, “I wanted to see GP. He's not getting any younger.”
You don't say anything in reply. Max and you go to your hotel room, where you pack your charger and laptop and return to the car park with your luggage. Max unlocks his car and helps you load your bags next to his in an oddly domestic scene before you clamber into the rental, this time starting by holding onto the interior of the car. Max stares at you, and says, “I drive 200 miles per hour regularly.”
“And I know your data, mate, I don't need to take my chances.” You say, despite it being a lie. Max laughs and sets the car into reverse, checking his blind spot and slinging his hand behind your seat. “Yknow, George Russell thinks that pose makes him cooler.”
“Well, George Russell cannot get less cool, so…” Max says, navigating to the open road. You snort, and Max looks disturbingly pleased with himself. “Been working already this morning?” He asks.
“No?” You say.
“I check your discord, klein, have you started taking up racing games?” He says mildly. You huff. “I'm turning my status off.”
“Mmm. Don't.” He says, already cruising at 10 above the limit. “I like being able to see.”
You pull into a fancy breakfast place, where Max deposits a croissant into your lap and sets off on the open road, taking bites of your croissant even as he tells you to “eat up, schatje”. Your imagination suggests it tastes sweeter for it, and you curse it, but watching Max's teeth break into pastry is bizarrely attractive in its domesticity.
It isn't long before he's delivered you to your car, and you do thank him before he glares at you. “Don't mention it. Seriously, don't.” He says. “Bye, schatje. I will see you next weekend, yes?”
“Occupational hazard.” You say mildly, and Max is ruffling your hair and driving off. You clamber into your rental and begin returning to the airport.
The thing about driving is it lets you think, fill silence with your brain's mechanisms. Your favourite thing about Redbull is how straightforward it is. Laurent Mekies is a man who wanted performance, even as any failure would result in Helmet Marco publicly criticising everything about you. There was a bond in the Redbull garage, forged by people who had to work against their own bosses to succeed, had to ignore most of the people above you. You guess that's why Max's comments hurt - before that, as much as he was their prize pig, he was equally at risk. For him to turn on you too was a betrayal of the very bricks of the garage, a refusal of your culture. The thing about Redbull is all that matters is performance. It's you, it's the engineers, it's the car, it's the drivers. You don't have a Toto Wolff, charismatic and caring while he crushes the concept of the car into a fine pulp, and it makes it easier. Laurent owes you nothing so he cannot betray you.
Not like Max.
The thought sits icily in your head as you pull into the airport, leaving the car in the lot and plucking your suitcase and hold luggage from the boot. You're walking to the plane with this ice gripping your heart even as you download the PDFs of blueprints and your plane ticket. Opting for early check-in, you're an hour before your plane time. Regularly travelling has trained the three-hours-early impulse out of you, and you're through quickly regardless and head to your gate.
You don't stop for food, not with the taste of pastry on your lips still. You lick the food off of your teeth, savouring its buttery flavour even now as you make your way to the gate lounge. You settle in, before you receive a text.
Max: for monaco, fly with me, schatje
You: Why? Seems convoluted.
Max: 🙄 come off it.
Max: Perhaps I enjoy company.
You: Lando say no?
Max: yeah.
You: fine
You: would be easier I guess
Max: my thoughts exactly.
When you're home at last, you settle into your cozy apartment. You ignore how empty it feels - getting your time alone is rare, and usually you welcome it, but now it feels stifling, the silence. You're cooking in your kitchen. It's one of the few times you treat yourself in terms of time - the night after race weekend, you cook a big meal, and this time you're whipping up a Bolognese.
GP: Home safe?
You: Yeah
GP: What are you cooking?
You: spag bol
You: or as they call it in italy, pasta
GP: I think you've offended my people.
You let the sauce simmer as you put the spaghetti on. You eat and return to your work, simulating car after car by making tiny changes that the FIA will allow. You can't make a perfect car, hell, it's not even really your job to do so right now - that's for the factories. You're running simulation after simulation of the car, right up until Max texts.
Max: Sleep, klein.
Max: It is too late for work.
You: [a screenshot of his own discord status, showing iRacing.]
Max: I'm gaming, lieverd. You're working. Stop it.
You: nuh uh
Max: :(
You: dont wanna
Max: yes you do
You: :(
Max: I am more stubborn than you.
You: You're the world champion of being stubborn
Max: Yes, so stop arguing
You: im not gonna wave him by coz hes max verstappen in a redbull
Max: Do not quote russell at me
You: but hes my favourite driver
You: he doesnt slag off my work to the press
Max: That's because he doesn't get redbull culture
Max: who would I slag anything off to if not the press
You: urself?
You: hell even over the radio would be better
Max: I did my community service for that comment leave me alone
Max: I am not apologising while you're still working.
You: well u havent apologised for the last 25 years why start not
Max: maybe there's someone worth apologising to.
You: thats bullshit you just want me to sleep
Max: I know. How evil.
Max: slag me off to the press about it tomorrow
You: :(
You: you know i wont
You: the engineers would be too scared of me if i did
Max: right
Max: so go to bed now klein
You: I'm gaming?
Max: Yeah?
Max: Then play with me.
You: mhm. sure.
Max: Fine. I am streaming atm
You: That's fine
You: Are you texting me mid stream
Max: well you were working mid stream
You: Fine. How do I join you?
Your discord rings, and you groan before picking up. “Hi, schat. Are we actually playing?”
“Yep. Coz I was gaming.”
“You just were working.”
“Chat, he doesn't want women to work-”
“Chat, for context, it is what, 11 PM where she is?”
“...yeah we'll go with that.”
“Oh, no, midnight. And she is working again.”
“I was gaming.” You say, lying through your teeth. Down the phone, Max groans, and you can picture him opening his mouth as he does whenever he's frustrated - halfway to a smile but most of the way to a distressed, “Mate.” You beat him to the complaint, saying, “Message me the code or whatever. Let's race, Verstappen.”
“Are we serious?” Max asks, but you receive a ping nonetheless that you copy paste into iRacing. "Ah, fuck, I need to change my car. One sec.” You say.
“You don't want to reveal to the competition what you've been working on.” Max says sagely.
“What I've been gaming on.” You correct, stubbornly lying.
“Schat…” Max says, all exhale.
“Max…” You mimic snootily, joining his game.
You start, screeching around corners. Most people are not a match for Max Verstappen, and you're no different, but having played a decent amount of racing in order to simulate the cars, you hold your own better than you expected. Max is still first on the podium, but you're a respectable 4th for someone who isn't in the car they've been playing most and isn't a world champion.
“Not bad, dropje.” Max says, and you hear some pride in his voice. “Been playing a lot?”
“Well, I've been simul- uh, yeah. Playing a fair amount.” You say, cutting yourself off when you realise he's needling for a confession. “You're a piece of work.”
“I know.” Max says.
chat
@verstappen33fan: is it just me or is he soft
@asgdhjfjsh: soft max
@turningup2thef1nction: is that his engineer why r we acting like she didnt shag her way to the position
@f1rrarifan: are they like in love
@daddyissues3: i kinda like dads (maxs) new girlfriend
@mommyissues33: agree @daddyissues3 she seems nice
You play until Max wins when you were leading for the vast majority of the race. You immediately start cursing him out, calling him an, “ex-blond privileged prick” in a tirade where you're fairly certain you cited nepotism, stubbornness and idiocy. Max only huffs a laugh. “It's just hard racing, schat.”
“God I fucking hate you. I'm leaving.”
“To bed?”
“Nunya fucking business.” You snap. “Bye, chat. Sorry I'm leaving you with Max Veryappen.”
“They love me.”
“Looking at the chat, they feel differently, as do most of Redbull.”
“That was foul, schat. Redbull loves me.”
“Yeah?” You say, but the inflection of a question doesn't emerge as you wanted, so you huff. “Bye, Verstappen. I'll get you next time.”
“Good night, dropje.” He says, and chat explodes again, but you don't notice. Hanging up and leaving the game, you huff and, realising your exhaustion, you do actually crawl into bed.
Verstappen was a mastermind, it seems.
@verstappenpls: whos the woman on maxs stream?
⤷@f1ngirl: its redbulls second best engineer
⤷@thirsty4three: and the romance?
@verstapp3nfan: SCHAT? #VERYAPPEN #POCA
@gplambiase: nice to see the kids getting along
@redbullracing: racing is racing, love is love, verstappen is showing emotion… these are uncorrelated ;)
@f1: no comment… but oui 🛳 it
@landonorris: all im saying is ive played iracing w max before but never like that
@maxverstappen33: pr said i had to post - to clarify i am not dating her we are not in love i am just concerned about my friends health
⤷ @redbullracing: navy for the wedding?
⤷@pocaengineers: keep dreaming, redbull
⤷@redbullracing: we will 😔
In the light of day, you groan at your antics last night, get dressed and get ready to go to work. The Redbull headquarters in Milton Keynes isn't your favourite location, but it's effective, so you go in and prepare your pitch for why your designs for the car are better than what you have. You include testing data and try and demonstrate why the car won't have a different feel, particularly, to what you have now - it's still fucking impossible to anyone bar Max to drive. You still won't contend for Constructor's. You'll still be “in line with brand values”, so you'll still be Verstappen Racing. It doesn't feel like an upgrade, but it will be for Max, and Redbull doesn't care about any second seat when they have Verstappen.
Max: sorry schat i shouldnt have out u in front of them all
Max: i hate media
You: its okay
You: knew what i was getting into
You: well i didnt exoect… this, but
Max: well me neither
Max: they just never see me around people i tolerate
You: awww you tolerate me?
You: keep that sentimentality away from the press
You're finished with your presentation. You take it to the technical directors, who nod along and ask stupid questions. You don't tell them they're stupid, just think it, and pray you've done enough. They ignore most of it - you made the cardinal mistake of presenting just before lunch, so they're more interested in which shitty overpriced meal to go for, but they nod and agree politely. You're more qualified and you all know it.
You: PR wants to “chat”, wish luck
Max: theres not enough in the world
You: am aware.
You: bets theyll go can we lean into it?
Max: 1.0001 to 1
Max: the doubt is whether they ask, not tell
You: its to me
You: so theyre more likely to tell lol
You: they would ask u
Max: yeah
Max: I terrified them into it
You: :*(
The PR team does talk to you. They have HR in as well, and they speak in soothing tones, and you keep saying, “Did you ask Max yet?” and they keep ignoring it. Redbull is a ghost town - not in the traditional, eerily silent way, but in that they drown out conversation with noise until you feel translucent under the shitty music and shitty people in charge. You're a good engineer. It's all you'll ever be for Redbull, unless you can be Max Verstappen's love interest, the proof that he has a heart. But they ignore you. You're not really sure why you were invited, and spend the time texting Max under the table as you nod politely. These colleagues do not value you as an equal - you're just a problem to them, which is fair, as some of the few people whose jobs you weren't making easier.
Max: mate just tell them you don't care
Max: the verstrategy
You: using ur own name isnt cute
Max: liar
Max: it is adorable
You: …?
Max: Yes it is
Max: you have no taste
You: evidently given the whole internet thinks im dating you
Max: foul
Max: I'm telling the internet ur in love w me and i rejected u
You: ud be public enemy number 1
You: Redbull would kill you
You: im telling the internet we're dating but ur a shitty boyfriend
Max: im an amazing boyfriend ill have u know
Max: i would buy you flowers and chocolate and i would watch that film you always talk to gp about
You: Legally Blonde?
You: you havent seen it?
You: are we taking the piss
Max: no why would i have seen it
You: well
You: jfc
Max: what?
You: its the greatest film of all time
You: next Sunday movie night?
Max: I might be celebrating
You: the cars fucked be so fr rn
Max: yeah good point
Max: we can have a movie night
You: ah fuck
You: the pr people r yelling at me
You: oh nvm theyre fine now i said i was texting you?
You: theyre filming me
You: im pretending to be unaware
Max: schatje.
Max: schatje theyre gonna make it look like we're in love
You: i gave up on trying to avoid that tbh
You: theyre rlly insistent
Max: threaten w hr?
You: thats sm effort
You: i just wanna go back to the blueprints :*(
Max: ik why r they so bad at letting us do our jobs
You: FOR REALLLLLLL
Redbull eventually forces you into another stream with Max by getting the PR team to complain to GP until GP says, “Jesus fucking Christ I'll talk to them, okay?" You all know GP is the only one that will get you and Max to do this, so you're not even that angry that they tried. Redbull is about performance and the PR team picked the most efficient route.
It's not even that you'd mind it, really. It's just that the internet is going to talk about you and Max and it's actually just awful.
You play Geoguessr with Max, you backseating his stream, and Max really tries to let you help. Unfortunately, Geography is Max's special interest and it's decidedly not yours, so as you throw out unhelpful suggestions, Max politely tries to humour you before he says something outlandish like, “Based on the fences we know this is Indonesia, yeah?” And you nod, and go, “Well based on the rock formation that makes sense,” despite knowing nothing about Indonesia or rocks. Max can sense you're full of shit but generously doesn't call you out on that. Instead, you begin chatting and letting him play Geoguessr.
“How did you get into engineering at Redbull?” Max asks, clicking his mouse.
“Uh, I don't really know, lots just sort of happened. I did my engineering degree, went back, did my Master's, worked in Formula 4 for a year, then Formula 2, then Racing Bull's, then Redbull Racing.” You say.
“Is it bad to say I still don't know what Formula 2 is like?” Max asks. “Oh, I am stupid. This is Scotland, yes?”
“Yeah, obviously, the grass makes that clear. Cut the Scottish way.” You bullshit. “Formula 2 was nice in many ways, but I missed… like, Formula 1 is the peak of competition and the game is cutting it to a razor thin precision, right? But Formula 4 had the kids and they were batshit, man. Formula 2 had competitive drive or whatever, but it wasn't the same.”
“Yeah.” Max hums.
“Can we talk about the fact you're a Geography nerd? No one makes fun of you enough for this.”
“What? What, mate? I am just Geoguessjng. You are rambling, get back to it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You say, and Max hums.
CHAT
@lestappen4eva: dad ur girlfriends cool
@childofdivorce: HER MAKING SHIT UP FOR GEOGUESSR IS MY FAV
@jealousyjealousy: can she stop lmao
@f1fangirl: ik like lock in on the game girl
@dannyricsuprem: let her live yall hate women so bad
@RedbullRacing: poca pooks check ur texts
You do check your texts. “Redbull Racing, babe, GP calls me that and that is it. The rest of you can back off. Max, Redbull asked fuck marry kill, Brocedes, Charlos, me and you.” You say boredly. “Okay, homoerotic teammates. Where's Max and Danny Ric, Redbull? Outrageous exclusion. I'm obviously going fuck Brocedes, right? The anger, it is good for sex, bad for marriage.”
“Lieverd, what the hell is this question?”
“I dunno, but lock in. That's France.”
“No. It is Quebec.”
“Fake France.”
“Not quite.”
“So, yeah, fuck Brocedes, and then yeah, marry Charlos and kill us.”
“No. No. Marry us, fuck Charlos, kill Brocedes. I do not need toxicity in the bedroom.”
“Not what you said last night.” You say with a grin. “Chat, he forgot our anniversary.”
“We aren't dating?”
“See?” You say, bringing a tissue to dab at your dry eyes. Max groans. “Tell Redbull I'm resigning.”
“No you're not.”
“Okay, maybe I'm not.”
“I'll tell them anyway.”
“Thanks, schatje, you're a real one.”
“I know. Why's Charles Leclerc direct messaging me?”
“I don't know.” Max said. “I am not his keeper.”
“Cain reference? Okay, diva.” You say. Max laughs as you click on your Instagram feed. “Oh, this is Switzerland.” Max announces, and you hum absentmindedly. “Yeah, the sky colour totally sells that.”
direct message
@CharlesLeclerc: okay dming bc max is busy but like. ru guys dating actually
@CharlesLeclerc: he nearly hit someone last time they got geography as badly wrong as u.
@You: we r not dating
@You: redbull made us stream
@You: was the last person u? did u and max have an inchident
@CharlesLeclerc: No
@CharlesLeclerc: was danny ric
@You: oh fuck
@You: he nearly hit danny ric? and notmee?
@You: is he genuinely in love w me?
@CharlesLeclerc: its the running theory in the gc
@You: gc?
@CharlesLeclerc: group chat.
@CharlesLeclerc: forgot u were actually english - maxs sidepieces
@CharlesLeclerc: we tried fo change the name so many times but danny keeps changing it back
@CharlesLeclerc: oh shit dont snitch wll u? to emdia or max?
@You: wont. pinky swear.
@CharlesLeclerc: fuck it
WHATSAPP: [You have been added to a group chat, “Max's Sidepieces”]
@CharlesLeclerc: felt relevant.
@You: I WOULDNT BE MAXS MISTRESS
@CharlesLeclerc: NEITHER WULD I???
@You: tbf might need the support
@CharlesLeclerc: precisely.
“Charles was checking whether we were dating.” You say. “It has descended. Oh, that's the Monaco flag.”
“So close. That is Poland.” Max says. “But kudos for getting it wrong that way round.” He says, and you grin, texting Charles again.
@You: omg ru still watching? coz fucling hell that one was horrific.
@CharlesLeclerc: you ragebajted ME there, like…
@CharlesLeclerc: … he might be in love w u
Max's Sidepieces
daniel: 👋👋 welcome to the trenches, im daniel (riccardo)
charles: yesyes pls donf sell our numbers to the sun
You: i would never
You: the sun r a shit newspaper, id go more trustworthy to sell maxs sidepieces out to
charles: :))))
George Russell: I am BEGGING for a name change
George Russell: Do you know HOW awkward it is when I'm slagging him off to the press and I have to log on to a groupchat called his SIDEPIECES
daniel: stop slagging him off to the press?
You: pls dont its so funny
You: h shit im meant to be on his side
daniel: hes mesnt to be on ur side
daniel: hes punching
You: too true 🙏
charles: hes yelling at u
You: yeah im ignoring it.
You: ugh
charles: for context max just crashed tf out lowk and went “why arent u paying attention to me.”
charles: he was never that oathetic about me
daniel: its okay i know he maxplained to you like no mans business
George Russell: We all mean nothing to him except as competition
You: aww george idk abt u but daniel meant smth
daniel: competition is his love language
George Russell: New name 🙏
You: is that babys first emoji 😪
charles: GAGGEX
charles: get his ass
You: ah fuck redbulls texting gang gtg
You: remembered they hired me and ive been ignoring evergone
daniel: its fine theyre all bark no bite
You: yeah but they bark to the media
You: and media has bite 😱🥶
daniel: forgot about that
charles: what?
daniel: omg u dont know redbull culture???
daniel: like yeah its about performance but thte second u dont some geezer will tell the media that ur a piece of shit or smth lol
George Russell: That explains actually a lot about Max.
charles: yeah. god. has anyone in racing been nice to him 😭
daniel: GP.
daniel: Toto but thats coz toto wants him
George Russell: i think toto wants all of us…
George Russell: thats a lie. but.
daniel: its ok. there there. max would never take him up on it on this contract.
George Russell: thats less reassuring than u meant it to be.
charles: i mean. his schatje is p nice to him 🙄
daniel: his lieverd 🙄 theyre so cute
You: stfu
You: yall r the worst
charles: ur stuck w us now
George Russell: You're not, but you're the closest thing to sanity here.
You: fine for princess george
George Russell: nvm doors that way
You: but george im ur sanith
George Russell: Mission mad maxs gf is offffff gang im not helping you get these demons together
charles: u werent meant to say that
You: im not going to shag max ever
daniel: who said anything about shagging?
daniel: thats sex in british right george
George Russell: Yes. 🤢
“Schatje, come ON, mate. You can get this one.” Max says, and you glance up. Noticing a sign in English and a .co.uk on a billboard, you pause for a second. “...England?”
“Scotland.” Max says. A vein in his forehead ticks. “Do you want to stop texting and start locking in?” He asks with a smile and a laugh. You put your hands up in surrender, and out your phone to the side. “Is that still Charles?”
“Uh, yeah, it is.” You say, unwilling to explain the link between Charles, Daniel and George.
“Why is he texting you so much? Mate, get in a sim or something.” He says to the camera. You smirk. “Well, some things in life are more than sim racing.”
CharlesLeclerc: max if ur not gonna fall in love w her then alex says “we like her vibe ;)”
“Alex? Alexandra Saint Mleux? Holy shit, Charles, you didn't tell me Alex was there. Max, how do I look?” You ask, launching into fretting with your hair for the bit. Max's jaw clenches, as he glances at your screen. “You look fine. Now, this is Iceland.”
“Can we do Geoguessr for engine parts? I feel stupid.”
“I don't- yeah, we'll find something else. Chat? I might be too invested in Geography.”
“Charles says you nearly hit Daniel Ricciardo during a Geography challenge.” You say. “Why did Redbull put me in the firing line?”
“You are on Discord, I cannot- ugh. You should not talk to Charles.” Max says. “He is a bad influence.”
“Maybe I like that.” You say, waggling an eyebrow with a laugh. Max nearly chokes, and says, “Well I believe his fiancée propositioned you.”
You turn to the camera fully, making eye contact, and say, “For Alex? Anything. That woman's Instagram feed is as flawless as her.” Max's chat begin to get misogynistic, as usual, and you sigh. “She and Charles are very good together.” Max says. “They seem very happy.”
“Well, any man would be with her. Hell. I would be happy with her. Alex, this is a joke, but hit me UP, girl. You fine.”
CharlesLeclerc: can u stop hitting on my fiancee
CharlesLeclerc: she says u should go to dinner sometime AS FRIENDS
CharlesLeclerc: alex here - i did not say as friends ;) but thats in a straight way unfortunately
You sigh. “God gives its toughest battles, like being straight, to his finest soldiers.” Max laughs like he's out of breath, covering his face in that somewhat delicious way, and Charles DMs you. The chat is erupting at your gay joke, and you're slightly irritated at having revealed it - it's hard enough being the woman engineer without being the bisexual woman engineer. You ignore it and click to Charles’s DM.
@CharlesLeclerc: alex wants to clarify shes kidding abt tghe proposition but not aboht the dinner
@You: tell her to text me we will get smth!!!! she free after fp1???
@CharlesLeclerc; what if I wanted MY fiancee
@You: i want ur fiancee
@You: carnally
@CharlesLeclerc: yeah yeah
@CharlesLeclerc: get back to lover boy
@CharlesLeclerc: alex says shes free
“Guys, I have a hot date with Alex.” You announce with a grin as Max huffs. “You are busy next weekend, no?”
“No? Talking about- oh, I'm not revealing the time to the stalkers. Not on movie night, I swear.”
“Good.” Max says. “This Legally Blonde, GP says I must watch it.”
“Chat, if I see a single spoiler, I don't care that it's been out ages.” You threaten. “I will- oh, this is a broadcast for work - um, insert threat here. Max hasn't seen it, and it's one of the best pieces of media of all time.”
direct message
@AlexandraSaintMleux: MAX HASNT SEEN LEGALLY BLONDE?
@You: no 😔 HAS CHARLES
@AlexandraSaintMleux: I WAS GOING TO MARRY A MAN WHO HASN'T SEEN LEGALLY BLONDE!!!! SOS.
@You: i think max will pop a vein if i invite charles to movie night
@You: but sit him down and make him watch it 🙏
@AlexandraSaintMleux: yes. i am. rn. turning off ur stream
@AlexandraSaintMleux: ur doing amazing sweetie u r not disproving the rumours though
@You: yeah 😔 gave up on that when max was chill w me calling the polish flag the monaco one.
@AlexandraSaintMleux: probably for the best xx
@AlexandraSaintMleux: excited for our date ;)
@AlexandraSaintMleux: charles says bye!!!
@You: BYE CHARLES (yelled so he can hear)
FP1 brings the same car to the same track with the same results. You're pissed, because no one ljstened to you or your results or your hard work. Cameras keep following you, so you're glued to GP, right until Alex and Leo come to pick you up from the Redbull paddock. Seeing them, you wave to GP and jog out. “Hi! Sorry, Redbull music isn't good for little ears!” You say, crouching down and offering Leo your hand. “He's so beautiful.”
“Hi!” Alex laughs. “Isn't he?”
“Alex, bin off lunch, let me hang out with Leo all day.” You say, and Alex laughs again. Her outfit is truly beautiful today, and you can't help but twirl your hair as you take off the Redbull shirt you tossed over a black blouse to pair with your black jeans. Alex grins. “You dress up for me, ange?”
“Yeah.” You say. “If I'm next to you, a Wonder of the World would dim in comparison.”
“You are too sweet.” Alex says. “Come on, I booked this great place…” She says, and you follow her from the paddock. Max catches your eye and waves, mouthing something that might be Have fun! as he talks with Charles.
“Charles is getting Maxplained.” You say, watching the two for a beat. Alex grins. “Charles pretends he doesn't like it.”
“If Charles seems like he likes it, Max will never stop.” You say. Alex leads you to a bougie little restaurant and she's taking a photo of the view, framed by flowers. “Pick anything. I am paying with Charles's money.” She grins. “Now, we must talk. Max.”
“We aren't passing the Bechdel test, Alex.”
“I know, I know. I will ask about you later. I am very interested in the beautiful woman that has made this industry her own, but first - gossip!”
“I dunno, Alex. I really don't want to be the engineer dating Max.”
“That is reasonable. But interesting wording. Explain?”
“I… d'you- look, this is in no way a judgement of anyone. But I've had to work my ass off to be taken seriously in this sport as an engineer and as a woman and it still doesn't work. The second I'm the engineer dating Max Verstappen, they will ignore me even more, assume I only have the job because he wanted me, ignore all of the good work and my competence, see?”
“Yes. That is incredibly valid. However, to play devil's advocate…” Alex leans forward, elbows on the table. “You will be an engineer for what, 30 years more? You could be happy with Max for 50, and work less - he has a private jet, he can afford your early retirement.”
“Al…” You say. “I've already invested so much into this job, and I do love the practical part. GP is a joy to work with, and there are others who do not completely piss me off.”
“Oui.”
“But… there's somethin’ there, right? With, uh, Max.” You say, scanning for cameras. “You tell anyone about this and I'm publicising Charles's number.”
“I would never.” Alex says. “I have a lot to lose too.”
“But yeah. Would I be stupid not to see where it takes us?”
“A little.” Alex says. “What is life without the risk?”
“Exactly. I spend my life chasing victories by shaving off millimeters but back down now? It's not… It's not sensible, yeah?”
“It wouldn't be. Okay. Max talk over. I have what I need.” She says with a disarmingly dazzling smile. “You have figured out your order? I am going for the halloumi burger.”
“Um, yes. Do you want mozzarella sticks, because I would kind of kill for them but I don't want all of them.”
“Yes, ange, this is why I invited you! You are a genius!” Alex says. “And main?” She asks, and you tell her your decision and she nods and signals a waiter. God. You might be a bit in love with Max Verstappen, but if Alexandra Saint Mleux came up to you in a bar, you wouldn't resist. A woman able to handle social interaction is a beautiful woman, and nothing about Alex dissuades you from that thought.
You: are u guys sure im maxs sidepiece coz i think id die for alex
charles: DONT TEXT WHILE UR ON A DATE W MY FIANCEE
You: shes ordering for me (◕ᴗ◕✿)
You: i think im in love w ur fiancee
charles: yes everyone should be a bit
charles: but get off she is mine
charles: and show her a good time 🙄
George Russell: If I am, u r definitely max's sidepiece
daniel: he admits he is!!!!
The second Alex is done ordering, you place your phone back in your pocket after half paying attention to both. She's back to smiling. “Ange, look at the view, let me get a photo. You look so pretty.” She says, and you do, glancing out to the scenery. Alex snaps photos, and you know there's one where even you will look good in Alex's expert hands. Alex then puts her phone away, back to focusing on you fully. Until her phone rings.
“Alex, darling, my love.” You hear Charles say as she mouths an apology. “You are with our petite ange?”
“Oui.” She says. “You want her?”
“Oui, mon amour. Merci. Sorry, it's urgent.”
“I know, chou-fleur.” She says, and hands you her phone. “Charles wants you.”
You take it. “Hello?”
“Ange! Oh, Max is glaring at me. Sorry. Look, don't look at your phone, Max wanted you to know that Helmut Marco is being, how do you say, monumentally stupid. He has suggested that your relationship with Max is why you have been hired.”
“Hey, you were right. That is monumentally stupid.” You say, reaching out for Alex's hand. Alex is clearly listening in, because she gives it to you without question. “Look, I will leave you in the capable hands of my fiancée- Max? Max!” Charles's voice fades and you grin at what is clearly Max stealing the phone.
“Angel.” He says, urgent. “Angel, I am telling them it is not true, and they are being fucking stupid. I am telling them they are fucking stupid and I am telling them that you are the only one making the car semi-drivable and they are ignoring me.”
“They do that.” You say.
“They do not do that to me. Charles was worried I would punch Helmut. I might. Enjoy your lunch, lieverd, I will try to smooth things over.”
“You will try to punch your problems.”
“What can I say? I am my father's son.” Max grins, the way you can hear over the phone. “Okay. I will enjoy my lunch. Congratulations on qualifying, Maxie.”
“Yeah. I will fix this.”
“It's okay even if you don't. Movie night soon.”
“Movie night soon.” He agrees, letting the promise hang. “I… I will see you soon. Have a good time with Alex.”
“I always will.” You say. “Say bye to Charles.” And a loud scuffle clearly breaks out before Charles grabs his phone. “Bye! Pass me to Alex I must tell her I am in love with her!”
You do. Alex smiles as she offers Charles a, “I love you too, mon amour.” And she hangs up. She breathes once.
“Okay. We will show them who is boss, yes? Pose, ange. Okay, if you are comfortable, unbutton another button. We will take the photo of you looking over there, yes, perfect. Don't want it to look like I made you get your chest out.” Alex grins. “Now, here are my sunglasses, oh, keep them, they look perfect on you. Okay, pose like you're an office siren. Yes, perfect.”
In this place, you do a whole photoshoot with Alex, and you're grinning again by the end. Alex is very particular but very supportive, and she's one of your favourite people in a very short amount of time. She arranges your hair perfectly and arranges your poses, and she takes photos of the buildings around you. Everything Alex sees has the capacify to be beautiful. It's a revolutionary way to see the world, especially with the mind to frame it in her lens. You can see her building the Instagram post on these white tablecloths, and you think Charles might be punching despite being one of the prettiest drivers on the grid.
A waiter brings over your food, and you smile and say merci, and Alex photographs your food and your hands both reaching for a mozzarella stick. It's absurd, the beauty she attributes to this mundane act, but you understand the vision. “God, I love the way you see the world.” You say, and Alex blushes a little, pausing with her burger halfway to her lips. “It is just curating. I am an artist by nature, I will see art around me.” You hum and continue devouring your food, it's incredibly cooked, but privately you think there is more to it.
Your head is still spinning with Marco's comments. Once you are done with your food, you apologise and open Google and type in helmut marco and your name.
MARCO SLAMS REDBULL ENGINEER - SAYS HER HAVING THE JOB IS “CONVENIENT” FOR VERSTAPPEN.
HELMUT MARCO: “We have some talented engineers who are not performing, and some engineers who are distracted by famous boys.”
MARCO SAYS KEY ENGINEER IS “NOT UP TO SCRATCH.”
“Oh.” You say. “Oh, it's worse than I thought. Cool.” Alex wipes her mouth and hands with a napkin, dabbing sauce away. “Oh, angel. Let me pay, and we will go for a walk, and we will ignore the world or set it to rights.” She says, immediately standing up and going to the counter. She starts talking, and pays quickly and returns to your side, grabbing her bag and Leo.
You walk through the streets, and she navigates you through a very beautiful set of roads without once uttering a direction. “So will we talk about it or not? Oh, that is not… English is cruel. Would you like to talk about it or ignore it? Either is valid.”
“Can… can we ignore it for a little longer?” You ask. She smiles. “Of course! So, I have been thinking about my outfit for tomorrow, I could do this…” she shows you a photo. “Or this.” She says after swiping.
“The second, definitely. But it's so beautiful you will distract Charles.”
“Better for you, angelo.” She says with a smile. You grin. “I suppose so. Okay. We will face this now?”
“Okay.” Alex shrugs. “On your time.”
“Marco is… not optimal. What do we do?”
“Counter-interview. Answer honestly, show them you, too, are a product of Redbull’s tell all culture.”
“They will fire me.”
“You could let them. Ferrari certainly needs good engineers, and you are the best. Even the news had to say you were a key engineer.” Alex reasons. “Ange, they cannot ensure your silence and fire you without pay. You either get a payout for your quiet or you will be in demand because of your skill and your knowledge.”
“Okay. That's one option. Do you have others?”
“You grin and bear it.” Alex says. “You ignore him and the media and you focus on your work.”
“Okay. Don't like that one either.”
“You could post a catty Instagram. It's what I've been gearing up for, if you wanted it.”
“Fuck it. Start with the Instagram, see what happens? Can always do the others later.”
“Yes! Okay, you won't regret this.” Alex grins, turning down a final corner.
You're standing in front of a beach. Alex immediately begins posing you, moving you. She sets up her camera and takes a few photos with both of you in frame, one of her hugging you, face pressed against yours. You look beautiful, even next to Alex. She has that effect, somehow. She gets a lot of photos, some of you alone that she promises to send to you and some of her alone, all gorgeously shot and framed. She gets you to take a few of her, and it's very nerve wracking until she checks them and smiles. “Perfection.” She says. “Okay. Now we will walk back to the paddock for FP2. You will answer no questions, or answer if they're outrageous. I'll walk with you but I'll grab a Ferrari hat just to make my allegiance clear." She grins. “I'm thinking captions.”
@pocaengineers
[a photo of you and alex hugging, a photo of you on the beach, a photo of you and leo]
distracted by famous boys (leo leclerc)
thanks alex
@alexandrasaintmleux
[a photo of her on the beach, a photo of the two of you, a photo of a building in the setting sun]
convenient lunch. apparently. @pocaengineers 🫶
Your walk into the paddock is with media in your face. You make sure to smile as you shove your way towards Ferrari, but actually turn around when you hear Leo bark. “Right. Back off, you're distressing the dog and the fans will flay you all alive if you hurt a hair on his beautiful head.” You order, a hand on Alex's back to keep her safe. She grins at you and runs into Ferrari, grabbing a jacket from Charles's seat before rejoining you, carrying Leo this time. In the meantime, journalists have harassed you a little and you smile sweetly.
“I'm not really interested in what people who haven't earned their place in Redbull have to say.” You smile. “I'm not distracted. It's a shame Helmut is.”
It's not what you and Alex discussed, but she grins at you, and you realise it's what she thought was best. She didn't orchestrate it of course, but it happened and she's not about to back down.
“I'm not sure other teams would agree with the comments made about mon ange today. If Redbull do not value their engineer this much, I am sure she wouldn't mind hearing the value others would ascribe to her.” Alex says, and in the meantime, Max has made his way to you both. His hand is on your back, higher than your waist but the cameras flash anyway. “I have made it clear that she is one of the most talented engineers I get to work with, yes? She is the only one keeping up with my hours, for sure. All of you can tell Marco that. Go ahead, lieverd, GP wanted to chat.” He says. “Alex, you look nice today.”
You take the escape he provides, placing a hand on his back as you leave. He glances behind him and smiles.
“Poca!” GP says. He's beelining for you immediately. “Poca, I'm so sorry.” He wraps you in a hug, resting his hand on your shoulderblade as he clasps you close. He nods at Alex, says, “I'll get them to turn the music down for Leo,” and immediately does so, yelling at one of the engineers who scurry to do his bidding. The oppressive music quiets, and Leo begins exploring and dragging Alex with him as you and GP follow. Max finally squirms out of media and joins you, a hand against your shoulder as he kisses your temple. “I will kill him.” Max announces. You nod. “I know, sweetie.” You say, and you mean it. “But we cannot do that, so why don't we focus on the possibilities?”
“It is possible.” Max grumbles, hugging you from your shoulders and resting his chin on your head. “But fine. I will be telling Redbull to fire him, he is a risk to morale and PR.”
“Might listen to you.” GP says. “I will be saying the same, but they care less about me.”
“They know I stay because of you.” Max says. “And the car being good. But if they don't have a good car-”
“Well, they would if they fucking listened.” You add.
“Yes. But they don't. Because they're cunts. Don't put me in front of media right now, I will be too honest.”
“Heard.” GP says. You crouch down with Leo and Alex, stroking the puppy. Alex grins at you and stands up, recognising your need for puppy time. You let the conversation wash over you as Leo sits on your lap and you glance up at Alex, jaw wide open. Max is looking at you, a smile on his face even as he talks about ending a man's career. Alex's phone is out, and you hear GP, "Can you send me that?”
“Yes of course.” Alex says, Ferrari jacket sliding off of one shoulder.
Charles slips into the garage, a genuinely offensive amount of red on him as he swans over to the group of you. He crouches down next to you, petting his dog even as Leo sleepily blinks at him. “I know, I know, petite, the world is big.” He coos at Leo. “Well, you too, ange.”
“Yeah.” You say, voice cracking, and Charles sighs and sits next to you. He pulls you into a hug, mindful of Leo's head, and he says, “Cry it out. They are all awful.”
“Yeah.” You sniffle, feeling the tears prickle at your eyes. Charles kisses your cheeks as the French do, and he hugs you tight.
“You will make me cry. That is not a handsome sight, ange. I did not expect to grow attached! I thought I would get you and Max together, you would go, oh Charles you are so great Cupid, and we would… I don't know, meet up maybe once a year? That is not happening! Ange. You have so many people here that love you, okay? Alex was texting me about how excited she was for your lunch. It was slightly pathetic- ow, Alex!”
“Be kind.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Charles says, affronted. Alex grins, handing Leo's leash to Charles. “Max and GP have to go talk to Redbull, I am going to see Becky.”
“Yes.” Charles nods. “I've got her.” He says.
“We know.” Max sighs.
“Don't be jealous. The men are going to war, we are staying home, yes yes. You're so macho, Max, please, save us damsels in distress!” Charles mocks in falsetto, startling a wet laugh from you. Max glares. “My lieverd is not a damsel in distress.”
“Ow! I know! Go!” Charles orders. Max sighs and does go, GP in tow.
“Talk to me.” Charles demands, passing you a tissue. “The group chat is worried.”
“I haven't looked.” You say.
“I know. You have adopted my dog, it seems.”
“Can I?”
“No. You can steal him sometimes, when I am racing?”
“Yes. That would be awesome. Have him at the Redbull controls?”
“Non. Nevermind. Leo will not work against his father.” Charles declares. “I will text George not to worry, he is a mother hen busy henning over Kimi.”
“He wouldn't be here.”
“No, he does not love like this.” Charles agrees. “He also is not sure you are that close yet.”
“We probably aren't. I didn't know we were this close.”
“Too late. I am attached.” Charles declares. He pulls you into another hug.
“They will talk anyway. Might as well date Max. He is very rich, and very protective, and would be a good husband for you.”
“Woah, slow down there.” You say. “Is he even into me?”
“Yes! I thought you had agreed?”
“I was joking then!”
“You confused the Monaco flag, that flies every race weekend, with the Polish one and he almost complimented you, ange.”
“But what if he's just…”
“Just what? Max doesn't do nice, he does honest.” Charles says. “Be a big girl and ask him on a date.”
“Why can't he ask me?”
“Because I cannot be assed to work on him! Getting him to man up will take so long, especially after this whole thing, so you're going to see if he wants to go to dinner.”
“Do I have to pay then? Feminism.”
“I don't fucking care! He'll definitely try and pay.”
“Kay.” You grin. “Maybe after movie night.”
“No, ask him to dinner before movie night! I am impatient and I want drama.”
“Charles.”
“Yes? I am right. French is the language of love and Monaco is the place of my heart and you will ask him and he will say yes! Common sense!”
“Kay.” You giggle. Charles grins.
“Now, dry your eyes. You are too beautiful to be sobbing over Helmut Marco. And I know it's not just that but he is the catalyst and he sucks.”
“Yeah.” You nod, dragging your sleeve against your eye. Charles smiles.
“Come on, pretty girl! We must venture to Mercedes, they have the best hospitality.”
“Yeah?”
“It's a fact, unfortunately.” He says. “Wear Max's jacket, we cannot have Toto think you are defecting, and Max will like it.” He announces, swiping the Redbull jacket off of the chair it's been discarded on. You pull it on, letting the cozy nature of Max's scent drift over you as you and Charles walk to Mercedes. You send Max a text and ignore the rest of your notifications.
You: at mercedes for the food when ur done 0:)
You slip into the garage, where Toto, George and Kimi are in deep conversation. Charles sneaks in quietly, a finger over his lips as he sees Kimi. You try to sneak by, but with Charles's bright red in a sea of black and white Mercedes uniforms, it's a doomed endeavour. George immediately walls over. “You alright?” He says, all British concern. You grin. “Yeah. Stealing your food though.”
“Toto won't mind.” George decides. Toto quirks an eyebrow, but seeing you, pauses.
“Is that Max's?” He asks.
“Yknow I work at Redbull, right?”
“They don't waste good merch on non-Verstappens. Also, it has a 1 on the front.”
“Coz… okay, yeah, you caught me. Totally is.” You say, and Charles hands you a gummy bear.
Max: coming.
Max: u seen my coat?
You: nah
You: come anyway i miss u
Max: kay
“Now, if you were considering leaving Redbull, we have some openings at Mercedes!” Toto says. “We could also hire Max and GP I'm sure.”
“With what seats?” Kimi asks. “Are you replacing me?”
“No. No, of course not.” Toto says hastily. You raise an eyebrow incredulously, looking at Charles. “This place is culture shock.” You announce. George laughs, handing you a bottle of Diet Coke. You sip at it. “We get that a lot.” Toto says. “Well, we get that from Redbull survivors.”
“I like Redbull.” You say.
“I don't.” Charles scowls.
Max walks in and immediately grabs your hand. “Redbull is not happy. We have to wait now.” He says to you. You nod.
“Thank you.”
“Any day.”
“D'you wanna go get dinner before movie night?” You blurt out. Charles, the only one not pretending to not listen, raises an eyebrow at you, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, sure.” Max says casually.
“No, like…”
“Oh. Like a date?” He asks.
“Yeah. If you want.”
“Yeah, sure.” He nods. “I would love to.”
“Cool.” You grin. “There's an Italian…”
“I have a name.” Kimi grumbles, and George laughs politely and Britishly while Charles laughs in cascading syllables. Max snorts and it's not pretty, but it's delightfully honest. “Shit location.” Charles tuts. “I didn't coach you on this bit. Not even your home garage is crazy-”
“Charles?” Max says.
“Yes?”
“Shut the fuck up.” Max says.
“Shutting up.” Charles agrees, making his way through the Mercedes food. Toto sighs, walking after him. “Leave enough for everyone else, we have engineers…”
“Anyone been called a fame hungry slut by their team adviser lately?” You offer as small talk.
“Ooh, I think you're paraphrasing.” George says. “Not personally.”
“You don't hear what they say behind your back.” Kimi grins, dashing to hide behind Max as George reaches to shove him a little. George raises an eyebrow at Max, and Max glances at you. “Sorry, darling. Light of my life.” He says, before using you as a human shield as George dashes to get Kimi. Kimi screams shortly, running out of the Mercedes garage as George chases after him.
“Light of your life, huh?”
“Is that English?” Max asks.
“Yeah, yeah, it is.” You smile. “Might not be able to wait til movie night.”
“Excellent. I know a place. You are free tonight?”
“Yeah. Well, if I'm not, I can cancel. What are they gonna do, insinuate I'm obsessed with you?”
“Well, you are.” Max grins, kissing you. You smile, melting into it as he grabs your hair. “Having all of our firsts in a Mercedes garage was a choice.” He grins. You grin back, pulling him in for another kiss to the sound of Kimi screeching and Toto badgering Charles about eating all his food, and it somehow feels perfect.
You walk out of the paddock that evening with Max. You tried to give his jacket back at some point, and he said, “Absolutely not. You look perfect in it.” Needless to say, it didn't work. He brought you to a tiny sushi place, with a, “Yuki introduced me to this, it is incredible."
“Yeah?”
“No photos leaked, the food was good.” Max nods. “I'm nervous though.” He laughs, and you grin. “Me too. I've got a hot date tonight, can't be late.”
“What a coincidence.” He smiles widely, “Me too.”
You get seated at a table, take some cucumber macchi and share it with Max. You order duck fries, and say, “I fucking love duck fries, usually.”
“I have never tried them.”
“Welcome to heaven, Verstappen.” You say, pointing a fork at him. Max laughs, all wide-mouthed and perfect. You try not to lick your lips. “For the record, if you wear a Redbull shirt to a date we plan before you pick your outfit, I will not be happy.”
“But lieverd, what am I meant to do? Buy new clothes?”
“You have plain shirts.” You sniff. “You are not dressing nicer for Abu Dhabi dinner than for our first ever second date.”
“Fine.” Max huffs, but there's still a smile plastered to his face. “Are we on either side of GP again?”
“Knowing GP? Almost certainly.” You say with a laugh. Max grins. “How's he gonna reconcile his kids both dating?”
“Call us both the in-laws?” You offer. Max steals a chip off of your plate, and his jaw drops once he's done eating. “Yeah, those are fantastic.”
“Right?” You ask rhetorically, picking at them.
Your dinner ends, and Max and you walk back to the hotel. Max insisted on paying and you tried to fight, but Max gently pulls you away by your (his) jacket. “Dropje.” He scolds, pulling you back into his orbit. “I am a millionaire, I can pay for sushi.”
“But maybe I want to treat you!”
“I want to treat you first.” He says, as you walk back to the hotel. You roll your eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”
“Yeah. You can't blame me for wanting to win.”
“You better not blame me for wanting to win, or I'm not fixing everyone else's fuckups with the car.”
“I wasn't blaming you. You did your best, my best was just better.” He says, entering the lift, you under his arm. You roll your eyes. “You're incorrigible.”
“Incorrigible?” Max asks, tilting his head.
“Lile irredeemable?” You offer, appropriately interpreting this as a language barrier. Max nods sagely, and pulls you close, kissing you. He lets you go only as you're at your doors, and you grin, scanning your keycard and opening the door. You prop it open with your foot.
“Thanks, Max. I had a good time.” You place your keycard into the electricity slot, feeling the lights flicker on against your face. Max smiles. “I'm glad. Same time on movie night?”
“That sounds genuinely perfect. Night.” You say, slipping into your room. The door closes, and you poke your head out again. “Unless you wanted to come and cuddle?”
“Thank fuck.” Max says, abandoning any pretense of making his way into his room. “Let me brush my teeth.”
You brush your teeth, slipping into pajamas - shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Max knocks on the door, and he's wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a shirt that is nowhere near as baggy as yours. Pulling him into bed, you become hard at work organising him into the perfect pillow, and he laughs at your attempts.
“You're perfect.” He says, kissing you.
“Yeah, not bad yourself.” You say, and he wraps his arms around you and pulls out his phone. You get yours as well, and begin scrolling through your messages.
@AlexandraSaintMleux: GET IT GIRL. poor location but he seems into it. love u 🫶
Max's Sidepieces
george: @You ru okay?
daniel: @charles i nominate u as tribute.
charles: shes w alex atm
charles: ill call alex and talk to her
charles: she seems… okayish. ik alex is on it
george: Stop being cute and lock in.
daniel: awww but also yeah what g said
charles: have yall seen the instagramd 😭
daniel: they kind of demolished him
charles: max is maxplaining to me #sos
charles: he might kill marco
charles: ok found her
charles: we're on the floor 👍
charles: gping to mercedes for snacks
george: 👍
george: EW THEY'RE KISSING
george: IN MY MERCEDES GARAGE
CHARLES changed the name to “Mostly Max's Sidepieces"
charles: anytime
daniel: my concern wasnt that helpful lol
george: Welcome
You: :( my joh sucks can i share that
charles: how was ur date
charles: eyebrow waggle
You: it was good :) nice
charles: UGH
charles: u will tell alex abt it?
george: I'm being cut out of the gossip
charles: im not :)
You: ill tell alex when max isnt totes potensh able to read my messages
george: AHHHH
You: not loke that but also ru a victorian
charles: he issss
daniel: tbf i dont wanna hear if ur shagging one of my best friends
You: I WASNT GONNA TELL U?
You; u guys suck
daniel: sure
george: Charles dont u dare make a joke about that
charles: shucks
You: SHUCKS?
charles: :(
direct message
You: okay so
You: went to sushi restaurant shared duck fries v romantic v nice had a good time. he paid :( i tried but alas. uhhh. walked 2 hotel v cutely. went to room but then i was liie dyou wanna dome and cuddle so now were cuddling :)))
alex: holy shit
alex: okah charles is being nosy af
alex: thats kinda cufe in a weird max and u way
alex: HI IS CHARLES. thats lame as fuck. where is ur grand gestures
You: stop h8ong we didnt have time to plan grand gestures
You: but idk theres smth abt the fact its all already like. domestic.
You: idk
alex: girl ur down baddddd
You: if i dont think abt him i think abt marco so
You: #concealdontfeel
You: what did charles think of legally blonde
alex: he thought it was fun
alex: but he didnf Get it.
You: the relationship begween a girl and elle woods >>>>
alex: i know id kill for reese witherspoon
You: REAL
You: shes so pretty
alex: 🙏
alex: ugh i gtg
alex: ru okay tho girl
You: yes.
You: :))) [a pic of max with his chin on your head as he smiles at the camera]
You: i think im in love.
GP notices immediately, and says, “So, kids… got something to say?”
“Hi Jeep.” You grin. “I'm convenient for Max.”
“And I believe she's distracted by famous boys?” Max teases, hand on your back protectively. GP groans. “You can only make jokes about that for so long.”
“Ridin’ the high, Jeep!” You chime, making your way to the area where your blueprints are kept. “Now, I'm gonna go present these and tell them to actually listen or shove them-”
“Maybe not those words.” Max says. “But give 'em hell, schatje.”
“Like they're Nico Rosberg and I'm 2015 Max Verstappen.” You grin, and Max flips you off. You blow him a kiss.
“Hi. This is why we as a team are implementing these ideas, because some of you might not be up to scratch but Marco's wrong if he thinks that applies to me.” You smile sweetly, slapping down your blueprints. “I've tested these designs as extensively as I can without building the damn thing. It outperforms our current car by two tenths on its weakest tracks. Shouldn't result in any grid penalties because I actually considered those, so it's within the limits and regs. Yeah? Cool. Let me know if you need any help decoding them, I'm gonna go help GP with the strategy.” You say, and without looking back, you go to sit next to GP with headphones on. Max has hopped into the car and is given a steering wheel, which he helps put in, and he's off.
Max racing is like watching a swan across water. It is ethereal and you know the work he's putting in to make it look this easy, but you can't help but think it is his natural state.
“Keep going, mate, looks good.” GP says over radio.
“Yeah it does.” You mutter, and Max laughs.
“You are on the radio, darling.” He says, and you tilt your head side to side. “I am not saying anything that people with eyes don't know.” You say snootily. “And for audio listeners, I can describe in graphic detail-”
“Mate!” GP says, turning the radio off. “Funny as anything, but what a hard launch.”
“What? Why would we keep it secret, they speculate anyw- VSR. We should pit.”
“Max, you have a VSR. Box, box. Box, box.” GP says without hesitating. “Are you sure?” He asks.
“Bit late. But we won't lose the position and McLaren will pit Norris because he's on old ass tires.”
“Reasonable.” GP agrees. “Or he has to fight Max on ancient tires, and we know Max can overtake.”
“Exactly.” You agree.
alex: GIRL UR WILD
alex: id be the same on charlies radio tbf
When Max gets in, P1, he pries his helmet off, takes off the balaclava and pulls you in for a kiss. He returns for a second, grinning at you over the barrier before he hugs GP and shakes hands with Mekies, who stands motionless. Max is prying off his race gear, letting the fireproof hang down as he heads to the cooldown room, but not before kissing you again.
alex: goals
Mostly Max's Sidepieces
daniel: i never got that warm of a welckme back :*(
Movie night comes with you and Max cuddled up in his bed, his arms around you as you watch Legally Blonde. You're mouthing along to the best lines, and pausing it as infrequently as you can to tell him about the importance of individual moments, and he watches you with a smile. He presses kisses to your head and smiles against your skin and you think this might be heaven. The outside word fades, and it's just you, Max, and Elle Woods's unflinching achievement.
“I see why you love it.” Max says. “GP, though?”
“He has daughters.” You shrug. “Elle Woods is wonderful.”
“I know, darling.” He says, and he's placing his head against the pillow with a yawn, pulling you against him. “I know.”
You fall asleep in his arms. You think it might be your favourite place as your eyes flutter shut, his nose pressed in your hair.
MAX VERSTAPPEN: Oh, yeah, it was very convenient.
VERSTAPPEN'S PARTNER: If you worked with Max, you wouldn't suggest working with him made anyone more likely to fall in love with him.
RUSSELL: I wish them the very best, but can they please stop making me read about it?
LECLERC; George said that? He is a liar! He loves the drama.
LECLERC'S FIANCEE: She's incredible, really talented and kind, and he's… there.
VERSTAPPEN: Alexandra said that? I will allow it from her. She knows it is true.
HELMUT MARCO ANNOUNCES RESIGNATION FROM REDBULL
MARCO STEPS DOWN FOLLOWING “CONVENIENCE” COMMENTS
MAX AND CHARLES SPOTTED TOGETHER AFTER PARTNERS GROW CLOSE
@mv334lifer: maxs partner is so real bc i too would fall in love w him
⤷@alexsmfan: maxs partner is so real bc i too would fall in love w alexandra saint mleux
REDBULL IN WITH A CHANCE THIS SEASON FOLLOWING ENGINE WORK
REDBULL SWAPS EVERY COMPONENT OF THE CAR
REDBULL ENGINEER: “Max is good enough to win the championship, so we are under pressure to deliver that.”
MAX'S PARTNER: “Well, if I don't fix the fuckups, I have to deal with Max.”
VERSTAPPEN: We are very happy. Well, I am, I hope she is or I look stupid.
RUSSELL: She is very happy. It is sickening.
RICCIARDO CALLS VERSTAPPEN'S GIRLFRIEND “DELIGHTFUL” - WHEN DID THEY MEET?
“When did you meet Daniel?” Max asks, reading headlines on his phone. You laugh. “So, it's a funny story, actually…”