Archive of Our Own ^beta

Pierre: Dan where are you?

Pierre: Dan please

Pierre: I hear screaming coming from the Red Bull garage

Pierre: Please come when you see this

Max couldn’t breathe. Tears were choking up his throat and his vision, and his breaths were coming in as pitiful hiccups as he backed himself up against the wall.

“You pitted when we hadn’t even called you in, what the fuck did you think would happen?” Helmut raged at him, his face beet red and his fists clenched tight.

Max didn’t need this right now. He’d just spent nearly the entire race with Lewis in his rear-view mirror, hunting him down, until the 60^th lap when the overtake inevitably happened and Max had to settle for second place. Again.

He’d barely kept himself together during the post-race interview with Jensen, and after the podium ceremony he’d purposefully bolted for his driver’s room as quickly as he could so he could get his stuff and get out of there. But of course Helmut found him. He always did.

“Lewis is better than you, and you need to do better than the crap you pulled out there today if you ever want to be better than second,” Helmut yelled. The sound echoed in Max’s ears, deafening him to the outside world.

Fuck. Of course Max knew Lewis was better. He was a 7-time World Champion, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t need Nico fucking Rosberg or Helmut fucking Marko to tell him that.

“Max?”

Through his tears, Max could see Pierre coming into the garage, which had been empty save for Max and Helmut. He let out a ragged breath and shot Pierre a helpless stare. His hard exterior was long gone.

“Leave us, Pierre,” Helmut muttered at him, not even sparing the Frenchman a glance.

“No,” Pierre said, looking back-and-forth between Max and Helmut, clearly assessing the situation quickly. He’d been on the receiving end of plenty of Helmut’s screaming matches when he’d been at Red Bull, after all. “Max, come with me.”

“Max, stay where you are,” Helmut said, his voice low and warning.

“Max, come on,” Pierre insisted, his eyes pleading. Fear was creeping into his voice, and Max wanted to follow Pierre but his entire body had frozen up.

But Pierre was his friend. He needed to get them both out of this garage, and he knew Pierre would not leave without him. He couldn’t let Helmut continue to have this effect on him.

So Max took a step toward Pierre, only to feel Helmut’s grip close around his wrist.

“Get. The fuck. Away from him,” came a low growl.

Max looked up and saw the very intimidating figure of Lewis Hamilton standing in the doorway. He was still covered in champagne, but he looked positively murderous. Max too could still feel the slick of champagne on his face and down his neck, though he wasn’t sure if his tears had washed all the bubbly away at this point.

And then Lewis was storming forward, practically ripping Helmut away from Max and guiding the Dutchman out of the garage, Pierre hot on their heels.

“Shit,” Pierre gasped, glancing at Helmut behind them. The old man was still staring at them, his face scrunched up in distaste. “That was fucking cool.”

Max was still breathing hard. He felt Lewis’ hand on his shoulder, surprisingly gentle. He squinted under the harsh Spanish sunshine, his head still a dizzy mess.

“Where are we going?” was all he could manage to say, the words coming out hoarsely.

“I’m taking you to Daniel,” Lewis said softly. “Everything’s going to be okay, Max.”

Before he could stop them, fresh tears fell from Max’s eyes the moment he heard his boyfriend’s name. Fuck, he couldn’t see Dan right now. He didn’t really want to see anyone right now. He’d fucked up on the track, he’d been a sitting duck for Lewis to hunt down and now the media would hunt him down too. For not being good enough. For making too many mistakes even when he had a good car this season. Part of him wanted to run away, hide inside of himself… be alone like he’d always been growing up.

He wanted Dan, needed Dan, but he didn’t know if he could face the Aussie now.

Lewis must have seen the doubt on Max’s face because looked at him worriedly, before cursing under his breath when he saw some reporters up ahead.

“Okay, detour,” he said decisively, quickly maneuvering Max into the Mercedes garage, Pierre following suit.

Max blinked, trying to regulate his breathing and pull himself together. He could usually do this with no problem, but Helmut had always been his Achilles heel. The man was frightening, and a part of Max just froze whenever he was with him. He was scared of him. Max thought he’d overcome this fear over the past few months, but the moment Helmut had found him in the garage, Max had cowered against the wall and in that moment he knew he was just as scared of Helmut now as he’d been 5 years ago.

The bright white lights of the Mercedes garage dominated his vision, and then he was being ushered into a driver’s room. He could see Toto and Bono rushing in after them, looking concerned.

“Is he okay?” Toto asked.

 “I don’t know,” Lewis said, kneeling beside Max. “Helmut really did a number on him. Max, you good?”

Max opened his mouth to say something, anything. He had half a mind to thank Lewis for getting him away from Helmut and bringing him here, but he couldn’t find the words. He was never one for finding the right words. Daniel was always better than him at that.  

Daniel.

Yeah, fuck everything, he really needed Daniel right now.

“Daniel,” he managed to gasp out. “I need Daniel.”

“He’s coming,” Pierre said, peaking his head inside the room, phone in his hand. “I just spoke with him. He got caught up at McLaren but he’ll be here soon.”

Max nodded in relief and then bit his lip. He was in the Mercedes garage, sitting in Lewis’ driver’s room, surrounded by rival engineers and mechanics. He felt weird and out of place, slightly on edge… but also strangely calm.

“Do you want some water?” Bono asked, sitting down beside him and offering him a bottle.

Max swallowed. He looked into the engineer’s eyes—the man who’d just wrecked Red Bull’s strategy on track only moments before. But there was no hostility in the Brit’s eyes. Just genuine concern.

“Sure,” he said, taking the bottle and uncapping it slowly.

As the water slid down his parched throat, he noticed Lewis taking a seat on the other side of him, placing a blanket around his shoulders. Toto was there too, and he could see the two were holding hands, fingers intertwined. Max had suspected it for a while, but it was nice to see some confirmation of their relationship. God, he couldn’t imagine how hard it was to be in a relationship with your team principal, but he softened when he saw how gentle the two were being with each-other.

The atmosphere here was so different to how it was back at Red Bull. He knew everyone thought he had it easy, being their Golden Boy. And, sure, he recognized the privilege he had being their first driver. He took it seriously. He didn’t want to let anyone down. But it was far from easy. It wrecked him when they’d demoted Pierre, and then it wrecked him to see all the articles blaming Max for it. He loved Pierre—the Frenchman was like a brother to him. Alex had been too. He’d wanted nothing more than for them to do well at Red Bull, to help him fight the Mercs together, but everything that had happened had been out of his control.

He’d even tried begging Christian not to let Alex go at the end of last season, but it hadn’t worked. And now, Max would do anything to keep Checo in his seat, and his anxiety was already starting to spike because of Checo’s less-than-stellar performances so far. He couldn’t lose another teammate. It would break him.

He was Red Bull’s Golden Boy, but at what price? His only friend in the garage was his teammate, and with that person changing every single year he really felt alone. The last time he’d truly felt safe at Red Bull was when Daniel had been there.

“Did he touch you, Max?” Toto whispered.

Max looked at the Mercedes team principal and was surprised to see that he looked concerned too, just like Bono and Lewis had.

“Why do you care?” the words were out of Max’s mouth before he could stop himself, and he immediately cursed under his breath. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, you’re winded,” Toto responded gently. “Of course, we care, Max. We’re not monsters. If Helmut hurt you, we need to report him.”

“I’ve tried before, it doesn’t work,” Max shook his head, remembering the blowback he’d experienced the last time he’d tried reporting Helmut—at the time, it had been for pushing Pierre against the garage door after a poor qualifying.

“Toto can help,” Lewis urged Max gently. “He’s got influence, as a team principal.”

Max looked at the couple doubtfully, biting his lip. He was so used to seeing expectation and judgment in the faces of Christian, Helmut, GP… those were the only things he associated with Red Bull. He thought that was the norm—it was his norm. The fact that Toto and Lewis were here, both showing concern for a rival driver… it didn’t compute. It didn’t make any sense.

Pierre was beside him now, having taken Bono’s place, and the Frenchman wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“You don’t understand,” Max swallowed finally. “They could punish us… if we reported Helmut. Th-that’s what happened last time, and—”

“It’s true,” Pierre interrupted when he saw that Max was struggling for words. “It’s not worth it reporting Helmut… Max would just suffer the consequences.”

Toto huffed angrily. “He’s hurt both of you? Physically?”

Max and Pierre exchanged a glance, and that was all the confirmation Toto needed.

It was then when they heard footsteps thundering into the garage, and Max instinctively knew it was Dan. Seconds later, the Aussie appeared in the doorway, and he looked absolutely wrecked with worry.

Max felt himself buckling with relief at the familiar face. Even when Max was at his angriest, his most emotional, Daniel could calm him down like rain on a fire. No matter when, no matter where, Daniel always had that effect on him.

“Max!” he exclaimed, rushing toward him and bringing Max into a tight hug. Pierre, Lewis, and Toto instantly backed away to make room for the couple to reunite.

Daniel was still in his racing suit, the top half tied around his waist, and he was rubbing circles into Max’s back, whispering sweet nothings. Max started sobbing again, clearly exhausted from the day. But these weren’t tears of fear anymore, they were more tears of relief. Daniel was there, everything would be okay.

Daniel pulled away to look at Max’s face, his own eyes blown wide with fear.

“Did he hurt you?” he whispered urgently. “Did the fucker lay a hand on you?”

When Max didn’t immediately respond, Daniel looked to Lewis, who cleared his throat.

“When I got there, Helmut had his hand around his wrist, pretty tight,” Lewis said softly.

Max clenched his eyes shut before opening them again and slowly reaching to tug his fireproofs aside. Dan’s eyes widened when he saw distinct marks on Max’s collarbone.

“He shoved me,” Max whispered, so softly that they could barely hear him.

“I’m going to kill him,” Daniel growled lowly, making a move to get up.

But Max reached for him, stilling the Aussie in his tracks.

“Please,” he whispered. “Not right now. I just… can we just—”

He gazed up at Daniel—pleading with him—and Daniel immediately understood. Max needed him right now.

“We’ll leave you two be, yeah?” Lewis said, getting up. “You can stay for as long as you need to.”

“Thank you, Lewis,” Max whispered, and when the two championship contenders locked eyes they could feel the weight of Max’s words between them.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, Max,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

Lewis, Toto, Pierre, and Bono then filed out of Lewis’ driver’s room, with Pierre smiling softly at Max before closing the door.

Max was silent for a while, and Daniel just hugged him and felt his heartbeat settling against his skin. Daniel knew he didn’t have to say anything—him and Max had always had a way of understanding each-other even through the silence.

“I fucked up,” Max whispered eventually, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t pit at the right time… I thought GP said to come in on that lap but I misheard him… Lewis was right on my tail and I think I… I panicked?”

Dan regarded his boyfriend, his brow furrowing. In typical Max fashion, he talked like he was working through a math problem, his face scrunched up in thought. Though he’d grown calmer over the years—his approach to his own racing hadn’t changed. He was still as methodical as ever.

“Max,” Daniel whispered, caressing his face gently. “This isn’t your fault. Red Bull should’ve reacted when Lewis pitted a second time, and—”

“I really miss you,” Max interrupted him, sounding more defeated than Daniel had ever heard him. “I feel so alone. Not just on the track when I’m trying to battle against both Mercedes, but off the track too. I’m scared Sergio will lose his seat, and then I’ll have a new teammate again, and you know I have trouble making friends, so I’ll be all alone again.”

Max saw a flicker of guilt flash across Daniel’s face and he sighed. He didn’t want Daniel to feel bad about leaving Red Bull, leaving him, it wasn’t Daniel’s fault. God, this was all a mess.

“I want what you have at McLaren… everyone’s so nice,” Max continued, and Daniel let him. Max didn’t talk this much very often, and it was clear the Dutchman had things to get off his chest. “I miss Michael. We always used to have such a good time, the three of us, you know? And even here, at Mercedes, everyone likes each-other, and… and no one’s scared. Daniel, I’m… I’m just so scared. All the time.”

Daniel blinked, watching Max’s defeated expression and feeling anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. Max was the most important thing in the world to him, and knowing that Max didn’t feel safe broke Daniel’s heart.  

“Darling,” he whispered, hating how helpless he felt. He cradled Max to his chest, just feeling him in his arms and taking comfort in the fact that in this moment, Max was safe. He could protect him.

“We need to report Helmut, Max,” Daniel said after a few minutes of silence had passed. “I know you tried back when he shoved Pierre a few years ago… and it didn’t work then. To be honest, I should have made you report him again.

“But he stopped,” Max whispered. “He didn’t touch Alex, and hasn’t hurt me since that time with Pierre.”

“But he hurt you again today, Max,” Daniel said. “Enough is enough. Honestly, it was enough the first time he hit you a few months after I left. And when he stopped after Pierre… I thought he’d stopped for good. That the threat of being reported again was enough for him to stop. But clearly it hasn’t stopped him, and I’ll never forgive myself for not raising this with the FIA again. I should’ve done more to protect you, and—”

“Stop,” Max whispered, bringing their foreheads together. “You wanted to report him multiple times after that but I stopped you. I begged you to leave it alone, remember?”

“I shouldn’t have listened,” Daniel shook his head.

“Hey, we shouldn’t blame ourselves, right?” Max asked, a small smile—the first one he’d sported since the podium ceremony—playing on his lips.

Daniel nodded, “I love you so much, Maxy. You have no idea how much.”

“I think I have some idea,” Max sighed into Daniel’s shoulder. The atmosphere between them was calmer now, though Max’s heart-rate hadn’t slowed.

“I never want you in the same room with him every again,” Daniel said, pressing a kiss to Max’s cheek. And then another, and then another. “I swear to God, if me and Michael have to be a human barrier separating the two of you every single time, we will do that.”

“I think McLaren would have something to say about that,” Max chuckled, though his heart was filling up with love like it always did in Daniel’s company.

“I don’t give a shit,” Daniel shrugged. “Besides, it’s McLaren’s job to keep us happy just as much as it is for us to keep them happy. You know, Lando even had a word with his engineer yesterday about what he said about not doing you any favors.”

Max looked shocked. “Really? I thought that was pretty reasonable of his engineer to ask…”

Daniel laughed. “Yeah, I mean, sure. But was it really necessary? Probably not. And Lando’s your best friend, love. He doesn’t want anything to drive a wedge between you two.”

Max blinked. He knew Lando and him were close, but he didn’t know the young Brit would go out of his way to preserve their friendship. The thought filled Max with a feeling he wasn’t so familiar with. A happy feeling. He didn’t have very many friends, after all, and held onto the ones he had fiercely.

“And he may have been a little hurt when you didn’t invite him to game with you last night,” Daniel said sheepishly.

“Oh,” Max said, momentarily confused. “I didn’t think he’d want to… I thought he’d be mad or something…”

“Exactly,” Daniel said. “Even though his engineer’s comments were reasonable, they made both of you doubt your friendship. And he doesn’t want that.”

“Neither do I,” Max said.

“Well there you go,” Daniel said, nuzzling his face into the crook of Max’s neck.

“Thank you,” Max breathed. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Max sounded so tired, and Daniel wanted to hold onto him and never let him go. Shield him from having to go back to the Red Bull garage, from having to feel so alone in a world where Dan loved him. Dan knew that when Max said he felt alone, it didn’t mean that Daniel wasn’t enough to make him feel otherwise. The loneliness he felt was a loneliness Daniel was very much familiar with. It was a loneliness that he’d felt as a Red Bull driver even when he and Max had been together. Helmut’s rage had a way of alienating even those that wanted to stay.

And jeepers, Daniel had been desperate to stay. He’d never wanted to leave Max. But Helmut had made it impossible for him to sign another contract in good conscience.

Leaving was the best decision for him, and his relationship with Max hadn’t suffered really, but leaving was the most selfish thing he’d ever done. Because he’d left Max to face the wolves alone.

“We should go,” Max said, clearing his throat and looking around, as if he was finally registering the fact that he was in a rival’s driver’s room. “I need to thank Lewis, too.”

“You already did, love.”

“I know, but… I need to thank him more,” Max sighed. “He didn’t need to do what he did.”

Daniel embraced Max once again. He wasn’t ready to leave yet. He just wanted to hold Max a while longer.

“Let’s just stay for five more minutes?”

Max nodded against his shoulder.

“Okay.”

It was the next day, and Daniel was stood outside the Race Control office, which doubled as the local FIA headquarters for the duration of the race weekend.

Lewis and Toto were beside him, accompanied by Pierre and Alex.

Max had wanted to be there, but after a long conversation with Daniel he decided it was probably best that he distanced himself from the whole situation. They considered having Max just wait at the hotel until they returned, but Max was impatient to get out of Spain and into the comfort of his and Dan’s apartment, so Daniel had seen him off in his private jet with Lando and arranged for Nico Hulkenberg, who lived a few blocks away from them in Monaco, to greet Max at the landing strip in Monaco so his boyfriend would have plenty of company until Daniel got there later that day.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Lewis said softly.

“Huh?” Daniel asked.

“What Helmut did to Max, and to Pierre…”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Daniel sighed. “But I should have done this years ago, and I didn’t. And Max got hurt yesterday, and he’s… he’s everything to me.”

“I know,” Lewis said. “But Dan, the rest of it isn’t your fault either.”

“What do you mean?”

Toto glanced over at them, and offered Daniel a small smile. “When Lewis was battling Nico all those years, the media tore him apart, as you know. Seeing that tore me apart too. I felt responsible for every article that put him down, for every rumor that destroyed him reputation… I wanted to fight everyone. I know it seems impossible, but you can’t let that get to you.”

Daniel swallowed. He could relate to Toto’s words all too well. He loved Max so much, and seeing someone you loved so dearly being ripped to shreds by the press… curling into himself and breaking under pressure and the weight of verbal abuse and unrealistic expectations… it was so hard for Dan. All he wanted was for Max to be happy and safe, and he could do nothing to protect him.

“How?” he asked, his voice breaking. “How do I not let it get to me?”

“You love him, right?” Lewis asked.

“More than anything.”

“Remember that he loves you just as much,” Lewis said. “You’re enough for him. You and him, that’s all that matters.”

“And you’re not alone here,” Toto said. “We’ll help you protect him.”

Daniel’s face must have shown his shock, because Toto and Lewis exchanged a glance.

“We’re all in this together,” Toto said, placing a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Max is not alone, and you’re not either.”

Daniel smiled at the two Mercedes men in gratitude, seeing both Alex and Pierre mirroring his gesture.

“If I’d known about this before, I would have single-handedly ended Helmut’s career ages ago,” Toto said. “But at least we get to do that now.”

Daniel lifted his hand to push the door open.

“You ready to get him banned for life?” he asked.

This time, Pierre and Alex chimed in.

“Fuck yes.”

When Daniel arrived back at his apartment building in Monaco, he felt a sense of relief fill his body. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon detailing Helmut’s various physical and verbal assaults in great detail to the FIA representatives, with Alex, Pierre, Toto and Lewis all backing him up. Max had let him take a picture of the marks on his neck from where Helmut had shoved him up against the wall, and he’d added that to the report.

They hadn’t spared a single detail, and before they left Toto had made it excruciatingly clear that if Max or any of the other Red Bull drivers experienced any consequences as a result of this report being filed, Toto and Lewis would single-handedly end the FIA by pulling Mercedes out of the season. Max would pull out too, along with Pierre.

That had put the fear of God into the FIA representatives’ faces, because what title race would they have without Max and Lewis?

Daniel knew at that moment that they’d won. Helmut was going down.

He’d wanted to update Max immediately, but decided to do it in person instead. He took the elevator up to the top floor of the apartment building and smiled as he walked down the hallway and could hear laughter coming from his unit.

He opened the door and the sight that befell him made his heart whole again.

Max and Lando were sat on the kitchen island, laughing giddily at something Hulk was saying. The tall blond German was by the stove, wearing an apron that said “Hulkenburger,” and flipping what looked like pancakes. Half of Max’s face was covered in flour, and Lando was dipping his fingers in some kind of batter.

“This is gross!” Lando exclaimed.

“Well, what the fuck do you expect,” Hulk groaned. “It’s uncooked pancake batter.”

“Can I try and flip one?” Max asked, his eyes glowing.

Daniel stood in the doorway for a moment, delaying the announcement of his arrival. He watched Max’s eyes light up as Hulk handed the pan handle to him. Lando laughed even louder when Max attempted to flip the pancake and it ended up falling right to the floor.

The Aussie smiled, trying to print a permanent copy of this moment in his mind.

“Hey Maxy,” he said finally.

Daniel knew that he and Max had a lot of obstacles to navigate in their future, but in the meantime he would cherish moments like these when Max was happy and safe and loved. And when Max looked up and saw the Aussie in the doorway, his eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. Daniel felt protectiveness wash over him. God, Daniel would give everything up to keep Max happy like this for the rest of his life.

“Daniel, you’re home!”

Seeing his apartment filled with so much love and laughter, and knowing that the buzzing in his pocket was coming from the new group chat he and Max had created with Lewis, Toto, and Pierre, Daniel knew they’d be okay. He knew the feeling of being alone would still haunt Max on his worst days, but Daniel knew it would never be enough to break this.