Chapter Text
Australian GP
The new Formula 1 season was about to start, and even though Max loved racing and couldn't wait, he was most curious about what kind of relationship he would have with George. Because for them, the previous season had ended in a major falling-out, since George acted like a two-faced backstabber.
Unfortunately for Max, even though they’d had a fall-out, he couldn’t get him out of his head. He spent the entire off-season thinking about him.
There was always a certain chemistry and attraction between them, which not only they themselves but also most of the other drivers were aware of. However, nothing had ever happened between them.
Max had already put that argument behind him, but he didn’t know how George felt about it.
He was still annoyed by the way George had acted back then, but they were going to keep running into each other in this sport for a while, and he hated it when things dragged on unnecessarily and got brought up over and over again.
So when Max first walked into the paddock, with his first race weekend ahead, he started with a clean slate and hoped George would do the same.
* * *
Of course, Max’s wish went unfulfilled. George successfully avoided him all weekend and didn’t even glance his way once. But he tried to blame it on the fact it was the start of the season, and everyone, including George, was stressed out and under pressure.
Deep down, however, he knew that wasn't the reason, and that George walked away every time Max came even a little closer to him.
It annoyed him because he wanted his attention. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but his indifference bothered him.
That all changed when they both ended up on the podium. And that meant George wouldn't escape it.
After their interviews in the parc fermé, they headed straight to the cool-down room. There was a staircase leading up there, and George went up first, with Max right behind him.
I would grab him by the waist and pull him closer to me. The thought flashed through his mind.
He looked him up and down and bit his lip.
Max didn't understand what was wrong with him and why he was acting like a horny teenager around him, but he couldn't help himself.
Inside, Max placed his helmet on the helmet stand and grabbed a bottle of water to take a drink. George was standing next to him, but he barely glanced in Max’s direction. When he sat down in the seat next to Lando, he ran his fingers through his hair, and Max swallowed.
George was a handsome man, and Max was fully aware of it. But he knew he was on camera, so he didn’t let on. He sat down next to Lando on the other side and started chatting with him. George glanced over at them now and then, but then he started watching the race highlights.
At one point, a clip with Lando was shown on the screen, and Max turned to him to make a funny comment. George gave him a side-eye and raised an eyebrow.
What's his problem? Max wondered.
As soon as the highlights ended, George didn't look back at him. Max let it go and talked to Lando.
They were standing on opposite sides of the stage, with Lando between them, so he couldn’t even see him. Which, at that moment, actually pleased him. George clearly hadn’t gotten over their argument yet and was still acting like a snake.
When it was time for the champagne celebration, they both rushed over to Lando, and then Max walked past George and went over to the McLaren mechanic. Then he just clinked glasses with George briefly, and that was the end of the celebration.
* * *
Max was sitting in the room where the post-race interviews were being held, waiting for the other two to arrive. George came in shortly after and sat down on the other side of the couch, leaving the middle spot for Lando.
Over the weekend, he had grown increasingly frustrated by George's indifference, so he leaned over to ask him about it.
“George?” he said, waiting for him to look at him.
He slowly turned and leaned toward him. “Yes?”
Max smiled, as it was a small victory. George was willing to listen to him.
“Are you still upset about what happened in Qatar?” Max asked, hoping the question wouldn’t bring their conversation to an end.
“No. Why do you think that?” He furrowed his brow.
“Because you’ve been ignoring me all weekend,” Max whispered so that no one else in the room could hear them.
George chuckled. “Max, please. You know a lot is going on at the start of the season, and I always focus only on myself and on putting in a great performance.”
“Well, if you say so.” Max shrugged, but he didn’t believe him.
“Don’t take it personally, I don’t have a problem with you.” He shook his head and smiled.
“Okay,” Max replied, shifting in his seat.
Just then, Lando arrived, so he didn't have a chance to ask anything else.
And he would be lying if he said that this simple conversation had somehow helped him sort out his thoughts.
Before the interview had even officially started, the reporter asked Max a question that really added to the whole thing.
“Max and George, you were having a chat before Lando came in. Have you two cleared the air? Is everything good between you now?”
Max turned to Lando and George, and they both laughed at the question, waiting to hear his answer.
“No, it’s still shockingly bad,” Max replied with a straight face and then chuckled.
Lando turned to Max. “You can have a bar fight as we did.”
“Yeah.” Max laughed. “I mean it’s all good. It’s all good.” He added, shaking his head.
“Yeah, what he said,” George said, pointing at Max.
After that, they asked him the usual questions about the race, and Max didn't have another chance to chat with George.
_______
Saudi Arabian GP
A month had passed since the last press conference, and George had managed to avoid Max the entire time. During that period, they never finished qualifying with both of them in the top three, nor did they do so in the race. And wherever else they crossed paths, George always made sure to stay as far away from him as possible.
And, of course, it annoyed Max more and more every day.
But today was qualifying, and Max was hoping they would both do well and end up at the press conference together again. He needed at least some opportunity to talk to him, because he had no other options.
* * *
When he got into the car, he took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Now everything else was put aside. Despite all his hopes and thoughts, he needed to focus on the qualifying session.
He had to drive as well as he could, and that required a clear head. As soon as he set off on the first timed lap, he saw nothing but the track ahead of him and the fastest lap
* * *
Max was finishing his final timed lap, and GP was already telling him over the radio that he had secured pole position.
“Yes! Oh my god guys! Simply lovely that!” Max shouted back into the radio. He was thrilled.
He arrived at the parc fermé and saw Oscar there, and then George too, which made him even happier, because it meant only one thing. He and George would be at the press conference together.
When he got out of his car, he went to weigh in, then walked over to the tables with water and towels to take off his helmet and have a drink.
George was already standing in front of the cameras for an interview, and when Max saw him, he swallowed. He always looked great, but his slightly sweaty face and tousled hair sparked some dirty thoughts in Max’s mind.
Max felt the urge to bite his lip, but just then George turned around and walked over to shake his hand and congratulate him.
“Congrats.” He said, smiling.
“Uh..yeah—thanks.” He stammered.
Get a grip!
He was completely mesmerized by him.
George then turned back and went to do the interview. Max wasn't even listening to what he was saying. He just watched him the whole time, scrutinizing every inch of his body.
Once all three had finished their interviews, it was time for a photo. Max stood in the middle, with Oscar to his right. When George stood on his other side, he immediately wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him close.
Max kept him close and tried to make him feel his presence. George had his arms around his shoulders, and he felt that, at times, he squeezed him too, sending a wave of excitement down his spine.
When all this was done, the three of them went to the press conference, and Max was curious to see how it would go this time.
* * *
All three of them were seated on the couch in front of the journalists, and Max could feel how close George was sitting to him. The couch was really small, and if he leaned over just a little, he would touch his knee.
Not that he minded.
Of course, the reporter started asking Max questions first, so he didn’t have a chance to figure out how to get George’s attention. So he just answered and didn’t worry about him.
After a few questions, he moved over to Oscar, and Max hoped he might strike up a conversation with George. But George was on his phone, texting someone. Max was curious to know who he was texting, but he doubted George would tell him.
Once all three had briefly described their qualifications, it was time for the journalists’ questions. The first journalist naturally started with Max, and as he asked his question, Max noticed out of the corner of his eye that George had placed his hand on the armrest of the couch.
He tried not to let on, but his proximity made his heart race. As if he'd done it on purpose, the man turned toward him with a bottle of water and took a sip. Max swallowed and parted his lips slightly.
He's doing this on purpose. The thought crossed his mind.
But he quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on answering again.
While Max was answering the questions, George glanced at him a few times, but he didn't let it faze him.
When they asked him yet another question, he looked at George and smiled, but George was already looking at Oscar, covering his mouth with his hand and pretending to yawn.
Why the fuck is he looking at him and not at me?
But that smile of his.
That man is going to be the death of me one day.
Someone finally asked Oscar a question, and that was his chance to start a conversation with George. Unfortunately, his mind went completely blank, and he didn't know how to start.
To his surprise, however, George was the one to break the silence. He just asked a quick question about the qualifying and turned right back. But Max wasn't going to let it go.
“George?”
“Yeah?” He turned back to him.
“Can we talk once we’re done here?” Max asked cautiously, hoping for a positive answer.
George looked him over and thought for a moment. “I have to go back to my team.”
Of course. He’s avoiding it again.
“Okay,” he replied, turning away from him.
He can keep acting all offended. Fuck him.
Max was upset because he thought he was over it, but he was wrong. George is obviously going to stick with this for a long time yet.
_______
Imola GP
Max, George, and Oscar once again finished in the top three in qualifying, so they were sitting together in the media center again. This time, however, Oscar was sitting in the middle, separating them.
Max watched as George talked only to Oscar right from the start, and his anger began to rise again.
As the reporter was hosting the press conference, George started peeling a banana, and Max swallowed hard when he saw him. On top of that, he was holding it on his lap, which struck him as some provocation.
As soon as Oscar began answering the first questions, George leaned toward Oscar, still holding the banana.
“You and your banana,” Oscar said with a laugh.
Max turned to face them.
“Don’t get your banana too close to me,” Oscar added, and George laughed.
Max laughed too, but his smile faded almost immediately. He had the feeling that George was really doing it on purpose.
But you’re more than welcome to bring your banana closer to me. The thought flashed through Max’s mind, and he felt like slapping himself.
This has to stop.
Although he tried not to watch him and not to let him know he was paying attention to him, his gaze would occasionally wander back to George anyway.
Once Oscar had answered all the questions, it was Max's turn. So he stopped watching George and turned his attention to the reporter.
But as he was answering, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of him talking with Oscar, and it annoyed him deep down. He didn't understand why he acted completely normal with everyone else but had a problem with him.
When George started answering the questions, Max found his voice annoying at times.
He prayed that the entire press conference would be over quickly, because this disregard was really getting on his nerves. What’s more, when the journalists asked questions that weren’t directed at him, he couldn’t even try to talk to George, since Oscar was sitting between them.
He wondered what else he could do to get George to notice him, but nothing came to mind. He didn't want to crave him so much, but he couldn't stop thinking about him.
The questions turned back to George, and Max turned to face him, taking him in. George just looked good no matter what, and Max hated himself a little for how much he liked him.
The press conference went by pretty quickly, which Max was glad about. However, he decided he would try to catch George once it was over and talk to him again, since he had brushed him off last time.
Max was the first to leave the room so he could wait for George. He felt a bit like a stalker, but he just needed to talk to him. Luckily, Oscar came out first, followed a moment later by George.
“George?” Max called out to him.
He turned to look at him and slowly walked over to Max.
“Yeah?” he said, waiting to see what Max would say.
“Are you in a hurry to get to the team?” he asked right off the bat, just to be sure.
“No,” George shook his head.
“Great. I want to talk to you.” Max shifted nervously from foot to foot.
George smiled and looked him over. That made him even more nervous. “Go ahead,” he urged him.
“Are you doing all this on purpose? You still keep ignoring me, even though you say you don’t, and you’re talking to everyone else but not to me.” He said all this in one breath, folding his arms across his chest.
“Oh, come on, Max.” George rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing this on purpose, and I don’t get what keeps bothering you,” he added.
“It bothers me that you’re ignoring me,” Max said, throwing his hands.
George lowered his head and laughed. “And why do you want me to pay attention to you so much?” He moved closer to him, making eye contact.
Max swallowed. He was always terribly nervous whenever George was near him.
“Because I want us to finally put our argument behind us and start talking to each other again.” He frowned.
“But we’ve already done that. I told you last time that I’m not going to dwell on it anymore,” he replied irritably.
It was clear to Max that he was tired of dealing with this all the time. But Max was also tired of the fact that they couldn't just have a normal conversation.
“But you’re provoking me,” Max said.
“How so?” George asked, amused, putting his hands on his hips.
“Like today with that banana,” he blurted out.
George tilted his head and studied him intently. It was clear that his mind was racing, and at that moment, Max wished he could read his thoughts.
Then he chuckled and shook his head. He placed one hand behind the wall next to Max’s head, the other on his waist, and leaned in close to his face. “And what makes you think it was a provocation?” He raised an eyebrow.
A wave of excitement and nervousness washed over Max the moment he placed his hand on his waist. He held him tightly, and Max trembled all over at the touch.
“You know that very well,” Max replied in a trembling voice, barely audible.
George had him completely under his control and was enjoying it.
Asshole.
He knows exactly what he's doing.
“I guess you’ll have to fill me in,” he replied, and Max could feel his breath on his face, as he stood so close to him.
“Cut it out,” Max said, pushing him away.
“See? You can’t even handle this closeness, so what do you want from me?” George shrugged, a smirk playing on his face.
“Fuck off,” Max said angrily, pulling away from the wall against which George had pressed him with his closeness.
Without another word, he walked away down the stairs, hearing only George's laughter behind him.
He hated him. He hated how his presence affected him and how he reacted to it. He hated that George knew all this very well.
Most of all, though, he hated that it wasn’t even true that he hated him. The truth was that he longed for him and wanted him so much more.