Chapter Text
They’re playfully yelling at each other from opposite sides of the couch.
Max shouted a snide “Hah, get fucked,” as a blue shell came careening around the corner to circle over the atrocious kart Daniel had chosen, insisting it was ‘high performance’. The resulting explosion dumped the Aussie down into 6th, and as he fought his way back up to the podium the Dutchman sailed into pole and across the line. Daniel only managed 3rd.
“Hah!” Max clapped his hands over his head as he topped out at the full 60 points for the grand prix,
“So much for high performance, huh?”
“I’ll get you next time,” Daniel huffed, crossing his arms in half-false annoyance,
“Go easy on me damn it…”
Max pretended to ponder over playing easy as he loaded up the next set of tracks, watching in his peripherals as his partner moved to sit on the floor instead, situating himself on the rug at Max’s feet, sitting criss-cross. Verstappen reached out, ruffling his hand over Ricciardo’s messy brown curls with a smile before returning his attention to the screen. He just about caught Daniel’s small shift in position before the engines whirred to life and the grand prix began.
Daniel had forgotten what that felt like. The gentle, ever so slightly condescending affection of having his hair ruffled. It took him back, way back to his childhood, even before his karting days. Back to watching his father race, and the many times his father had shown him the same gentle attention that would make any child’s pride soar. He missed it, and it well and truly shook his concentration from the game.
Three races in, and Ricciardo was already significantly down in the points. Verstappen, with a solid pole win streak, paused the game, looking down.
“Daniel, you okay? Something thrown you off?”
He turned, twisting to look up at Max with a look the latter had never seen in his eyes before. Childlike innocence. More so than his usual playful demeanour, and twisted with a little bit of sadness.
“Dunno…” Daniel mumbled, fumbling idly with the sticks of the controller in his lap,
“You did that with my hair and… it reminded me of my dad.”
Max, now with a small look of concern, leant down closer,
“Your dad? How so?”
“He did that-“ He mimicked Verstappen’s earlier movement on his hair, “all the time, at the race track back home when he finished zooming around the track.”
“Mhm”
“It was so cool watching him race. I… I miss it.”
Max reached out, tangling his hand in Daniel’s soft curls once more,
“Hey… That’s okay Danny.” He began softly, starting to slowly connect the dots to what was happening with his boyfriend,
“How about we switch this off and see if we can find some videos from back then?”
Ricciardo pondered it for only a second before pointing at the paused screen, a look of fiery determination in his eyes.
“Nuh-uh. Gotta beat you first!”
“Oh really?”
“Yup, gonna kick your butt at this, just watch!”
“Suuure…”
Max had never had his ass handed to him in a racing game more, but the way Danny cheered as he crossed the line in pole was enough that Max didn’t mind, not one bit.