Work Text:
The commute from Monaco to Perth is long, excruciating, and tiring.
It's a thirty-minute drive through horrific French traffic to get to Nice, a six-hour flight to Dubai, an annoyingly short layover considering it's midnight when he lands so there's no point in sleeping, and then finally, a ten-hour flight to Perth, to home.
So, the commute from Monaco to home is always, always, always worth it in Daniel's eyes, because when he's encapsulated in his mum's arms again, he can't think of a single reason to complain.
"Hi, Mum," he says, voice heavy in his throat from only being used when talking to air hostesses and border security. Even at 33 years old, his mum is always adamant that she'll come and pick him up from the airport, and while in years past he had tried to fight her on it, only now he's gotten more and more grateful as the exhaustion catches up quicker.
It's not late at all, the sun is still dancing in the sky, but he's exhausted, sleep-deprived from the travel day. He falls asleep on the drive from the airport to the farm, his mum does nothing to rouse him from his sleep knowing now, more than ever, he needs the sleep.
"Darling," she says, a soft push on his shoulder accompanying it. His vision is all blurry, he has to blink a few times to get his bearings. All the stress from the past season melts from his body when he sees the farm, the warm light of the living room filtering through the blinds. "It's only your dad and me here tonight."
Tension releases from Daniel's shoulder at the realisation he's not expected to be a functioning human being tonight. He can just be jet-lagged Daniel, the one who lounges, half-asleep, next to his dad while watching Snackmasters on TV. "Thanks, Mum."
A warm smile, one identical to his own, is flashed back at him. "Of course, darling." She knows Daniel more than anybody, more than he knows himself at times. It makes a warm, fuzzy feeling swell in the pit of his stomach.
When they go inside, his dad's cooking dinner—some pasta dish that Daniel thinks he's been craving for six months—and the feeling in his stomach grows. Travelling the world is fun, his job is a dream come true, but nothing would ever compare to Australian summers spent in Perth.
"Danny!" His dad exclaims, turning quickly from the pot on the stove to face Daniel. "Hope the travel day wasn't too bad?"
Daniel laughs in response, shakes his head no. He knows he probably looks like shit, with dark circles under his eyes and not enough meat on his bones over the past season, so the question is fruitless; his dad already knows the answer.
But he says it wasn't horrible, and takes his dad into a tight embrace. His eyes catch the fluorescent green numbers on the microwave, 7:15 pm, and he has to fight a yawn as he finally realises how tired he is.
"Do you guys mind if I just go to bed?" he asks meekly, even though he knows his parents would never think of telling him no. "I'm just really tired."
His mum shushes him and shakes her head, just like he expected her to. "Danny, please, you look exhausted," she says, and Daniel has to hold back a laugh. "Your sister's coming over tomorrow with Isabella and Isaac, they're on school break now, but if you're not up for it, I'm sure Michelle won't mind rangling them at home for another day."
Daniel gets jittery at the idea of seeing his sister, at seeing his niece and nephew, and he knows they would be just as excited to see him as he is with them. "Thanks, Mum," he says for what feels like the fiftieth time tonight, and he kisses both his parents on the head before retreating to his bedroom.
He texts Max when he gets out of the shower 15 minutes later. They've spent almost the entire time since the season ended together, getting giddy and excited about the year ahead of them. Now, alone on the other side of the world, it feels odd, not to be with Max.
Daniel Ricciardo
7:45pm: Got home safe! Have a good Christmas in Holland!
He doesn't expect a text back immediately and knows that Max is probably spending his time soaking up family time instead of hovering by his phone like Daniel is.
It makes something pang in his chest though, it rattles his bones. He knows he's missing Max, that much is obvious, but over the past few weeks, Daniel's started to notice that he feels differently towards Max. He can't quite name it, how much he longs to just be in Max's presence constantly.
Max, these days, is the only person who Daniel can truly feel himself around. Daniel can pour his heart out and serve it to him in a champagne flute and he knows Max would be careful not to spill a single drop. Daniel's confessed how hard these past few years have been, confessed things he wouldn't even think to tell Michael, and Max, while blunt and menacing, hard around the edges to most, has been soft and caring, done nothing to make Daniel feel stupid or less.
He's been a constant comfort, Daniel thinks, and it's weird not having him around now.
There's something else though, something that's probably been festering for as long as he can remember. Something that stirs even deeper within him, something that yearns to play with Max's hands and kiss his lips.
When he thinks about it, Daniel's sure this has probably always been a part of how he feels for Max, that when he'd changed teams all those years ago and saw less of Max, the feelings just lessened, fizzled out when he wasn't spending every moment he could with Max. Now, even after just spending a few weeks with Max, he knows whatever residual feelings that had been left have now been fed, and it's growing again.
Maybe the two months away from Max will knock some screws tight in Daniel's brain.
Max Verstappen
8:00pm: Glad you got home safe.
8:00pm: Holland is good. Dad is being how he always is, but it's nice to see my nephews.
Daniel feels a frown form on his face. Dad is being how he always is, Max's text message says. Daniel knows what that's code for—that Jos is probably bragging once again about Max's Championship, claiming it as his own and saying Max only got to where he is because of him, putting even more pressure on him for the next season already instead of letting Max relax.
It makes Daniel angry, makes him bite down at the skin on his lip until he starts to taste metallic on his tongue. He knows saying anything would be useless, that with 14 thousand kilometres between them shitting on Max's dad does nothing.
Daniel Ricciardo
8:01pm: Fuck your dad honestly.
8:01pm: If it gets to be too much, you can always call me.
Short and simple but entirely effective. Max is a big boy, Daniel thinks, he can handle himself and he can handle Jos Verstappen. But when Max sends back a thank you, with a rare smiley, he knows he's grateful Daniel put forward the offer nonetheless.
——
Daniel wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs, of toast and butter and sautéed mushrooms. His stomach grumbles as the smell wafts into his bedroom and he's hyper-aware of the fact he'd skipped dinner the night prior.
So he rolls out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom to splash water on his face and cleans any drool from his chin. He can hear the familiar childish laughter coming from another part of the house, and a smile stretches across his face.
A gasp and then, "Who's that awake?" There's fake shock lacing Michelle's voice as she talks to her kids, and a stampede of small feet against hardwood floors is quick to follow, and Daniel braces himself to impact as he squats down.
"Uncle Daniel!" Isabella exclaims as Isaac launches himself into Daniel's open and awaiting arms. They've both gotten so big—he can't lift them at the same time anymore, he realises with Isaac in his arms—and it brings a tear to his eye.
"Look at you monkeys!" He quickly takes Isabella in his arms when Isaac lets go, and spins her around as he had with Isaac. "C'mon, let's go eat brekkie."
He takes both their little hands in his, and he stops himself from laughing over having to bend down so neither of them stretch too far. Michelle's nursing a coffee when he rounds the corner into the kitchen, both of his parents are dancing around the kitchen. "Smells delicious, ma."
She beams and starts organising a plate for Daniel while he takes a seat next to his sister, Isabella on his lap and Isaac running laps around the living room with the dog. It's a typical Ricciardo morning, one that's reminiscent of the times before Daniel moved to Europe, before he became Daniel Ricciardo. It's nice, he thinks, slowing down and coming home, and just being here.
"How's stuff with work? You look good." Michelle asks and Daniel has to hold back a laugh. She's always referred to it as work, never danced around the subject that this is his job. She, more than anyone, has noticed the turmoil he's gone through.
"It's fine." She was one of the first people he told when he decided to go back to Red Bull, he probably told Michelle before he'd even told Max he'd signed the paper. "Honestly? I'm kind of excited to have the next year off. Is that crazy?"
It was daunting, at first, scary. Horrifying to think that for the first time in more than a decade, he wouldn't be flying across the globe, racing every weekend. He didn't know what to do really, but the longer he sits with the decision, the happier and more at ease he feels.
"How long are you here for?" His mum asks, pushing the plate of food in front of Daniel and his stomach gurgles again, desperate for food. He almost gets his phone to take a photo and send it to Michael with the middle finger emoji.
"I'm here until at least February," he replies, "I have to do some sim stuff for Red Bull before testing, but I'm not going to Bahrain or Jeddah."
"So you'll be here?" Isaac pipes up from across the room. "You'll get to play with us?"
Daniel smiles and shoves a grilled tomato in his mouth as he nods. "I promise."
——
Over the coming days, he does exactly that.
He tries to help his dad around the farm, but he spends most of his time chasing Isabella and Isaac around the paddock, threatening to throw them in the horse trough when the heat begins to be too much to bear. They've spent a good majority of their time here since Daniel has gotten home, and he knows for a fact his sister isn't complaining about having a babysitter so happy and willing.
Australian summer is something Daniel spends his entire year looking forward to, but fuck is it a lot to handle after spending a year away. It's so drastically different to the summers he has in the Northern Hemisphere—all sickly humid and harsh sunbeams—but he wouldn't trade Perth for LA for the world.
He sends a few photos to Max. The time difference has taken some adjusting too, he's not used to waking up while Max is asleep. It makes Daniel sad, in a way, that every waking moment isn't spent sending messages back and forth with him. Photos of pigs, dirtbikes, and dogs, occasionally a photo that Isaac has taken of Daniel running around the paddock flood Max's text thread. He should feel bad, needy even, like he's begging for attention but Max wakes up and responds with his thoughts on every single photo, and it makes the anxiety shrink its ugly head.
Every photo Max likes, he posts on Instagram. Daniel wonders if Max notices that his choices are so influenced by his words.
Michelle, Isaac, and Isabella have dinner at the farm one day, Daniel's brother-in-law turns up after work with an excited "Danny!" being hollered through the house to announce his arrival. Daniel likes Greg as if he's the brother he's never had and he takes the hug with welcome arms.
They talk about plans for Christmas and beyond over dinner, and they all agree on Greg bringing his family to dinner at the Ricciardo's farm. "There's enough room!" Daniel's mum says when he asks if she's sure, as if this isn't a conversation they have every year.
After dinner, Daniel says goodbye to everyone. Isaac and Isabella whine that they want Uncle Daniel to tuck them into bed and it's bordering on 9 at night when the heat exhaustion finally starts to catch up with him. He kisses them both on the head, tucked nicely into the spare bedroom that's usually Michelle's and bids everyone else in the house goodnight.
Max hadn't texted him all day, he notices as he gets tucked into bed. After being in Australia for a week, there hasn't been a day that's gone by where they haven't at least exchanged a message. It's odd, Daniel thinks, but the closer it gets to Christmas he guesses the busier the Verstappens must get. He wonders how Max celebrates Christmas, and if it's any different to how the Ricciardos organise their plans for the holiday. Whether the convoluted family tree makes organising the day complicated.
He doesn't even realise he'd fallen asleep, only waking up when the angry vibrations from his phone ringing rouse him from his sleep. He curses being a light sleeper, makes a mental note to turn the haptics off now he's in the same timezone as everyone who matters when he groggily opens his eyes and checks the caller's I.D.
1 missed call from Max the screen reads, the little widget on his home screen tells him it's 9 pm in Monaco, 9 pm in the Netherlands. He rolls his eyes and puts his phone down, Max will take the hint soon enough, Daniel thinks, and then his phone is ringing again.
He groans and answers it this time. "Max it's fucking 4, mate?" he says when he answers the phone, not even bothering with a hello. It's something important because Max isn't stupid—he knows the time difference between Perth and Europe is horrible—but Daniel decides to make it known he isn't happy about being woken up.
A shaky breath comes through the speaker, and then a cough. "I am sorry for calling you so early."
It dawns on Daniel that something is wrong, but he can't place it, not exactly. Max's voice is steady, but that breath wasn't. "Maxy, what's wrong?" He tries not to sound angry—even if he is still a little angry that he's been woken up in the middle of the night—because he knows, somehow, that that isn't what Max intended, isn't what Max needs right now.
"I, uh, can I come over for winter break?" Max says, voice rocky and wobbly. There's something else, something gritty and anxiety-ridden in the way the words flow through the speaker and it makes the hair stand up on the back of Daniel's neck.
"I'm in Perth for Chrissy? I'm not in Monaco—"
"I know you're in Perth," Max says, "I am also in Perth."
Daniel thinks he's hallucinating, hearing the words leave Max's mouth. He doesn't reply, rubs his palms into his eyes until he's seeing vibrant fireworks behind his eyelids and it starts to sting just to affirm yes, you're awake Daniel. Max is in Australia?
"Why the fuck are you in Perth?" it comes out harsh, as if Daniel doesn't want him here when deep down it's probably the opposite. "I mean, obviously you can come and stay, but why the fuck are you not in the Netherlands?"
Max chuckles and dances around the question, "I know it's a stupid time but I don't know where your farm is and I, of course, didn't want to turn up in the middle of the night without you knowing anyway, and—"
"Maxy, do you want me to come and pick you up?" It's redundant to ask, Daniel knows he's not giving Max a choice in the matter. He's up now, fully awake and pulling on a t-shirt as he stares around the room for something to put on his feet. He might as well do something productive.
"No, no, I can get an Uber or a Taxi or something," Max says but Daniel's rolling his eyes. "I just, need the address."
Typical Max, being stubborn even when he turns up to a country he only goes to once a year, in a city he's never been to in his life at 4 in the morning. "Don't be an idiot, it's like an hour's drive. I'll come and get you."
Before Max can argue, Daniel hangs up and hauls his body into the driver's seat of his Toyota Hilux while the kookaburras sing in the trees above. He hopes, for the love of God, he's home before his parents awaken to tend to the farm, not sure how he'd explain what is going on when even he doesn't know, but he'd left a note nonetheless.
The drive feels quick despite it taking an hour to reach the airport, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as he drives towards the city. He blasts music down the motorway, picks up Mcdonalds' breakfast and a coffee when he feels hunger creeping in and eats his sausage McMuffin one-handed as he pulls into the airport.
Max looks dreadful, if Daniel has to put a word to it—skin ghastly white, dark circles prominent under his eyes, his usually full cheeks are hollow and Daniel feels panic rise in his stomach. What the fuck has happened since Max left for Christmas?
Daniel climbs out of the car and instinctively moves to Max. They're like magnets, even at 5 in the morning and sleep-deprived. Daniel's arms wrap around Max, holding him in such a tight embrace Daniel worries he might break him. He feels so small against Daniel and something in Daniel's chest rumbles—something possessive, something protective.
"We don't have to talk about it," he says, whispering into Max's ear and he feels Max's body shiver from his whispered words and breath. "I got you breakfast. Eat, and then sleep in the car, and we can talk later, yeah?"
Max all but nods and climbs into Daniel's truck before rifling through the Mcdonalds' bag for the breakfast Daniel has procured for him.
It's eerily silent during the drive back to the farm. Daniel still plays music, but it's low as the hum of the engine rocks Max to sleep. Daniel doesn't want to spook Max to the point he goes running, but he can't help but look over at him at every red light out of the city, to make sure Max isn't a figment of Daniel's imagination, to make sure he doesn't disappear.
Perfect and long eyelashes sit delicately on his cheeks, Daniel commits every freckle on his face to memory. He's in awe of Max, how the sun drapes across his cheeks through the windows, how every sharp edge of his face seemingly softens under the morning light.
Daniel almost regrets having to wake Max up from the sleep he so clearly needs when they eventually make it to the farm. If Daniel's dad is awake, there are no hints of it, no footprints in the dirt that leads to the pigs, no disturbed shoes on the front porch.
It makes Daniel feel like a teenager again, and he has to stop himself from laughing. Sneaking someone into the house at 6 in the morning wasn't on his to-do list for today, but it's Max, and because it's Max, it's okay.
"Oh, uh," Daniel starts when he unlocks the door, noticing there's still no one awake. "My niece and nephew are asleep in the guest room and my parents are in their room so like, I can sleep on the lounge, it's fine. You need more sleep than I do."
Max just hums, clearly not fully awake as he walks across the threshold and into the house. Daniel leads him by the waist, carefully watching the floor to make sure he doesn't trip over any loose toys from Isaac or Isabella, and Daniel digs a hole in his stomach and buries the thoughts that lie within his bones that scream how domestic this moment is.
When Max is settled, drowsing off to sleep surrounded by Daniel's blankets he speaks, "Stay."
Daniel laughs under his breath. "No, Maxy, I don't want to impose on your personal space." God knows how badly he wants to.
But Max shakes his head, opens one eye slightly so he can narrow it in Daniel's direction and he feels like the look alone could eviscerate him. "I am the one who forced himself into your home. Of course, we can sleep in the same bed."
"I don't want you to be uncomfortable." But the bed is so comfortable, so much more comfortable than the lounge, and if Max is offering…
"Don't be stupid. Get in." The words pull Daniel towards Max until he's climbing in beside him. "I am sad, not contagious. You don't have to be so far away."
So Daniel scoots closer until there's almost next to no room beside them. It feels oddly comforting, not the slightest bit awkward. He shuffles slightly until he's on his side facing Max and lets himself imagine what life would be like if this were to be normal.
——
When Daniel wakes up, Max is still sound asleep and his phone reads 9 am.
He's jealous at how at peace Max looks, at how Max probably feels, and Daniel blames being awake on the fact that he'd slept for hours before picking him up from the airport whereas Max is jetlagged, clearly sleep deprived.
He slowly gets up, walks into the adjoining bathroom and splashes his face with water. Max is here. Max is in Perth. Max is in Daniel's bed and he has no fucking idea why. Daniel's only assumption is something happened with Jos, because it's always something to do with Jos. He isn't going to push him though; he knows Max will tell him when he's ready.
"Morning," he says when he walks into the kitchen. It's then that he catches his mum's eyes, a confused look in her eye. "What?"
"'Gone to pick up Max'? I thought you'd run off to Europe again, so I checked your room, and I saw you both in there. What's going on?" she asks, and she waves the note he stupidly forgot to rip up before they'd gone. He was hoping to have some time, a way to ease his mum into the fact his former teammate was asleep in his bed, but he guesses it's now or never.
"He rang me this morning, pretty upset about something," Daniel starts as he walks over to his mum, and presses a kiss on the top of her head before reaching behind her to put down some bread in the toaster. "I don't know why he came to Perth, but I think something's happened with his family."
His mum's face relaxes and Daniel remembers the soft spot she's always had for Max, even now, after all these years. "I thought you guys were… Y'know. Sleeping in the same bed and all."
Daniel groans. "Mum!" She laughs in response.
"You know I'd accept you, Danny," she says, "I've always liked Max." And with that, she's walking off out to where the kids are playing in the yard, clearly not thinking anything of it while it sends Daniel off the deep end with his thoughts.
He thinks of Max, how it felt going to the airport to pick him up at a ridiculous time, how instinctual it was, how he would do anything Max asked of him, how it felt knowing he was driving towards Max. He used to think it was just because he's a good friend, doing ridiculous things like this for Max all the time.
Now, he's sure that isn't the case.
Would he do these things for anybody? Probably not. Anyone else would know his farm's address though, would just turn up uninvited. But Max? Max could call him at any time of day and Daniel would bend to his beck and call. Not because he felt obliged too, but because he wanted too, because he would do anything in his power to make Max happy.
He drops the mug and it smashes to the ground, the pieces go flying under the counter, across the hardwood floor in an array of shapes and sizes, just like the feelings inside his chest explode and melt his skin.
I like Max, he thinks, I've always like Max.
"Uncle Daniel?" A small voice breaks Daniel from his realisation. "Are you okay?"
Isabella stands in the doorway from the porch to the living room, swimsuit on and a pink hat adorning her head, covering the curls that mimic Daniel's own. Her face is scrunched up, concern written across her features and Daniel wonders when she became so all-knowing.
"I'm okay, sweetheart," he says, bending down to quickly pick up the pieces of broken china when he realises Isabella doesn't have shoes on. If she cuts her foot, Michelle would kill him. "Clumsy me."
She giggles and walks cautiously over to Daniel, eyes trained on the ground for any stray pieces of glass. "Nonna said you have a friend over! Where is he?" She asks when she eventually makes her way over to Daniel, and before he can answer, footsteps echo throughout the house, bouncing off the walls as Max makes his way into the kitchen.
"Oh, hello." Red, splotchy blush creeps up Max's neck and Daniel feels like he's going to rip his hair out. Yeah, I really fucking like Max, his mind says when he watches him get down on his knees in front of Daniel's niece. It ruins his life. "I'm Max, Uncle Daniel's friend."
It's crazy to Daniel just how natural he's accepted these feelings for Max, how innate they feel, how ingrained in his very being they seem to be, and it just confirms his prior thoughts—these feelings have always existed, will probably always exist, it's only now he's realising just how horrifically not platonic they are like he'd thought for the past four years.
It's funny, in all honesty, wondering how Daniel ever thought the way he felt for Max was platonic when watching him talk to Isabella stirs something in his chest, takes his heart by the aorta and throws it around until he can't breathe anymore.
"Hi, Max!" Isaac says from behind them all, his observations on the situation indoors, and he comes barrelling over to him, launches himself into Max's arms despite the sweltering heat.
"I hope it's okay he's here," Daniel says to his dad when he walks through the door. "He rang me this morning all panicked. He just turned up and I wasn't about to turn him away."
His dad shakes his head and pulls Daniel closer to him by the shoulders—it's the best hug he can give while holding his mug of coffee. "This is your home as much as ours, your mother and I just want you to be happy."
Daniel groans again, "Do you also think I'm dating Max?" he questions, and his dad pulls a face, one Daniel can't quite decipher.
"If you were," he starts, eyes flicking to where Max now sits on the floor, listening intently as Isabella and Isaac show him all of the toys they brought to the farm; pretty Barbie Dolls from Isabella, Hot Wheels Cars that Isaac complains don't look like the cars Daniel drives. "He would fit right in."
Daniel's starting to think his parents knew something before he even realised himself.
——
"Hey," Daniel says sometime later as he walks into his bedroom. Max is sprawled across the bed, a result of his intermittent napping—jet lag from Europe to Australia is probably still one of the worst things Daniel's experienced—but he's done his best to not completely isolate himself. "Do you wanna go for a walk?"
It's 5 pm now, the air is so much cooler than it was a few hours ago. Isaac and Isabella have just left and his parents are getting started on cooking dinner so there's nothing left to do, so Daniel wants to pull Max from the bedroom and show him around the farm.
"Sure." Whines escape from his throat as he stretches, and Daniel pretends the sliver of skin doesn't set his nerves on fire.
Daniel grabs his camera before they leave, hellbent on taking photos that he can post later. He leads Max outside, hand on the small of his back as he tells his parents they're going for a walk. Daniel sees his mum drop a wink, and he pokes his tongue out at her when he knows Max can't see.
They walk, and walk, and walk through the yellowing grass. The sky is an endless mirage of blues, pink, and purples, the stars beginning to peak out as the sun lowers its harsh gaze. It's beautiful here, there's nowhere quite like Perth in the middle of summer. LA is fun, Monaco is relaxing, but nowhere will home quite like here.
"It's nice here," Max says, "I never did say thank you. For letting me stay." It's soft and quiet, so uncharacteristically Max, Daniel's certain he's the only person who's ever seen this side of Max.
Daniel swings an arm around Max's shoulder and snaps a selfie of them both together. "It's no biggie. It sounded like you needed it. Whatever this is, you know I'd be there for you."
Max ducks his head, tries to steal the camera from Daniel's hand, wanting to see the photo. "I know it was a lot, to just turn up uninvited, I just…" He pauses and Daniel watches the cogs turn inside his head, as if he's contemplating whether or not to confess to Daniel what had happened. "It's stupid."
Daniel's face softens as he spins the camera around for Max to look at the photo he took. It's blurry—it's an artistic choice, he says, when in reality he's still getting the hang of taking selfies with this camera—but it might be the best photo he's ever taken.
He's looking towards the camera, but Max isn't. Instead, he's looking at Daniel, and it makes Daniel's heart beat rapidly in his chest. He wonders if Max can hear it, thrumming against his sternum, threatening to break it.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Daniel's words cut through the silence that had fallen on them, pulling Max's attention from the small camera in Daniel's hands. Max shakes his head.
"Maybe later, I just want to enjoy being here. Being with you," he says, the candour dripping from his words. Max has always been honest, sometimes to a grating degree, that much is true. But right now, as the words slip from his lips, Daniel thinks it's honesty in the rawest and most beautiful form.
Being with you,Max had said. It makes him happy, knowing even at Max's lowest, Daniel is the person he goes to for comfort, for love, for reassurance of any kind. "I like being with you too, Maxy."
Daniel notices the pink on Max's cheeks, wonders if it has always been there, if it is simply a result of walking across the fields in warm weather, or if it's something else entirely.
"This way." Hand placed on Max's back, Daniel directs him towards a giant tree. Indigo flowers sprout out at the tip of each branch, an assortment of green leaves surrounding it too, it's Daniel's favourite tree on the entire property. "This is a jacaranda tree."
He watches Max's attention flick over the tree. No two branches are alike, everything is unique. Daniel lifts his camera to take a photo, one he knows he wants to post on Instagram later in a farm picture dump, but he can't help but keep Max in the frame in every shot he captures. Max looks at ease, relaxed for the first time in months like finally, everything that has been pressuring him for so long has dissipated at long last.
"It's gorgeous," Max says, eyes finally straying from the tree in front of them as he sits down. He pats the grass next to him, a motion for Daniel to take a seat next to him. It's a slither of shade where they both sit, and it feels like it might be a solid five degrees cooler when they're hidden from the sun.
Daniel can feel electricity pulsing through his veins with every brush of their arm, feels it rev his heart up like someone is pushing the throttle with all their might. He wonders if Max can sense it, or if he feels the same.
"Can I see your photos?" he asks, his body tense and timid, like he's afraid Daniel will say no. Daniel doesn't think he could ever say no to Max as he passes over the camera, as he lets Max see a little bit further inside his life.
Max comments on every photo he flicks through; compliments the ones he loves the most, and laughs at the ones where Daniel failed miserably at being artistic with his shots. Max's favourite one is a close-up of the pigs, their snouts front and centre, dried mud covering them and flaking off like dead skin. It makes Max laugh, a full belly laugh that results in him throwing his head back. "I love animals," he says, voice idyllic as he admires the small camera in his hand and all the pictures within it.
Eventually, he comes across the photos Daniel took of him, the jacaranda tree the perfect background to show such beauty. Daniel feels shy for the first time since Max started going through the photos because anyone with eyes could tell what Daniel was actually taking photos of.
Even if Max isn't the sole focus, isn't centred and is in front of the tree, it's impossible to deny that Daniel wasn't purposefully leaving Max in the shots. The first few are just of his back, as he had walked across the field and gotten a closer look at the tree but the final one is when he turned around to look at Daniel.
Blue eyes sparking under the Australian sun, cheeks red from the warmth in the air, a smile so bright it's as if the stars came out early.
"Are you going to post this on your Instagram?" Max asks, and Daniel can't pick up the tone of Max's voice, can't decide whether he's egging him on or subtly hinting that he shouldn't. He just shrugs in response—it's a good enough answer considering he actually doesn't know—and then Max speaks again. "I wouldn't mind if you did."
Daniel makes a noise, deep in the back of his throat, in response. "You wouldn't?"
"No, of course not," Max says, eyes looking up from the camera and towards Daniel. "I'm very excited to be here."
Daniel's whole demeanour shifts, from tense and shy to relaxed and happy. "I just thought you'd want it to be a secret," he says, "that you're here and not in the Netherlands."
Max shrugs, it's evident he hadn't thought much about it, how people would react to a photo of him surrounded by golden sunlight and dry grass instead of gloomy clouds and snow this Christmas. "We are close, aren't we?"
There's something else there, something hidden in Max's words, the way they rolled from his lips was so different to every other time. He's always been honest, in his own weird, Maxy kind of way, and Daniel had quickly become fluent in the way he speaks all those years ago. But now, more than ever, Daniel is confused, doesn't fully understand what Max means by close.
"Yeah," Daniel agrees, "of course, we're close, Maxy."
——
Later, after their stomachs are full and the sky is dark, Daniel makes his way outside to put the fire on. Max calls him ridiculous, asks him why he's outside shifting through firewood under fairy lights when it's still 20 degrees outside. Daniel laughs as a response, cracks open his beer and lights the wood ablaze.
“It’s nice out here,” Max comments as he sips his drink. “Very pretty. The stars,” he adds, motioning to the sky. It’s different to Monaco, even more so from LA, every star in the sky is visible, littering the sky for as far as the eye can see.
"I love coming home," Daniel admits quietly, the crackle of the fire and the buzzing of cicadas the only noise wrapping around them. "It's like a different world. Being here, not being a racecar driver."
Max makes a face, one that implies Daniel said the wrong thing. "I'm never not a racecar driver," he comments, "but I understand. Kind of. Your family have treated me just like I'm just Max. It's nice."
Daniel frowns. "Your family always treat you like Max Verstappen, Race Driver? Never just Max?"
Max laughs, as if he doesn't understand Daniel's confusion, as if he doesn't realise how odd it is. "Of course. Because that is who I am. Victoria and Mum not so much, but Dad definitely does."
It makes Daniel sad, makes him want to catch the next plane to the Netherlands and throttle Jos Verstappen so hard that he can't attend races anymore. He knows a scowl is on his face, because Max's own is cocked to the side, confusion in his eyes.
"But you're just Max." And Max smiles, softly, gratefully at Daniel's words, how saccharine and honest they are as they reach Max's ears. "You're Maxy first. Racing driver second."
"Thank you," Max replies, shuffling closer to Daniel. It's humid outside, even more so with the fire going, and there are more than enough seats surrounding the bonfire for them to have their section of space. Instead, Max sits impossibly close to Daniel, clinks his gin and tonic with Daniel's beer and says, "to being just us."
Daniel looks at Max and he feels something between them shift as he realises how close they are. Then, when his eyes stray from blond hair to the fire, he feels Max lean his head on Daniel's shoulder, and Max's shoulders move with every breath he takes. Daniel lets his mind wander, lets himself imagine how it would be if every winter break from now on was like this—just he and Max, a few pigs and his horses, a beer and a gin and tonic by the fire in summer, in Australia.
It's nice, he thinks, but before he can speak, before he can comment on just how nice it is, Max yawns and Daniel chuckles and he shrugs his shoulders as he gets up, a way to push Max off of his shoulder and to coax him into getting up.
Tiredness is evident on Max's face when Daniel turns to face him, the way it weighs down his eyelids until he's starry-eyed makes Daniel's heart swoon. Cheeks full and pink, Daniel can't stop himself from reaching up and caressing it. "Mosquito," he lies, cursing himself for not controlling his actions, "sorry."
"You're fine," Max says, not phased in the slightest, and then he yawns again and Daniel laughs again as he stands up this time and puts his hand out for Max to take it.
"Go to bed," Daniel says, pulling Max up from the log to a standing position. "I'll put this out." Max nods in compliance, downs the rest of his drink and walks back towards the house as Daniel puts out the fire. It's disgusting, heinous, the domesticity of it all, how it just adds oxygen to the angry bushfire that is Daniel's fantasies.
Winter break spent under the Australian summer sun, just Max and Daniel, a sheep or two, maybe a kangaroo. Daniel cooking and Max making drinks and then they'll eat and sit out next to the bonfire, under the fairy lights until they're too tired. And Daniel will still tell Max to go to bed first as he puts out the fire, and then he'll walk inside, dust the cool molten ash from his clothes and shoes before he comes in to see—
Daniel shakes his head, curses under his breath at how ridiculous his imagination got as he worked on autopilot to put the fire out. He goes back inside and realises his parents are in their room, the only lights on throughout the house to guide Daniel to his room.
He walks in, and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach, squeezed so tight so he can no longer breathe. Handsome and soft with sleep, the crease in his brow smoothed out, Max is asleep on Daniel's side of the bed. He doesn't blame Max—Daniel had sent him to bed, without telling him where the spare bedroom was, after all—but, selfishness disguised as not wanting to wake Max up, he climbs into bed next to him.
He curls up far away on the other side of the bed and hopes that the loud beating of his heart doesn't wake Max up.
——
Kookaburras sing, loud and obnoxious in the trees outside of Daniel's window the next morning.
He can feel the heat already, the way it sneaks in, and makes its way past the walls. Daniel groans, kicks off the sheet covering his body and goes to stretch but he can't—something, or someone, has pinned him to the bed, and is the true perpetrator of the warmth.
"Max," he groans, opening his eyes and seeing him next to Daniel. A mop of blond hair is in Daniel's eye line, arms wrapped around Daniel's torso making his stomach do a backflip. It's the closest they've ever been, and it's not even on purpose. "Move."
Max whines when Daniel pushes him slightly. "It's too fucking hot," Daniel complains despite every cell in his body screaming at him to pull Max closer to him and to go back to sleep. But the cicadas are buzzing, and the dogs are barking and Max is sleeping so, so peacefully in Daniel's bed.
"I don't want to get up," Max grumbles, eyes still closed. He's barely moved away from Daniel, head only moved from Daniel's chest to his pillow. "You're comfy."
Daniel thanks the fact Max's eyes are closed. That way, he doesn't see the way the tips of Daniel's ears go red, or how Daniel scrunches his entire face up as a reaction to Max's words, how easily they fell from his mouth, how quickly they shot Daniel down.
"It's too hot," Daniel whispers, voice low and soft, only for Max to hear. "Do you want to go swimming?"
Max makes a noise, one that Daniel takes as agreement as he untangles himself from Max's grip. He wishes he didn't have to, but he'd much rather be the one moving than an embarrassed Max. "Did you bring bathers?"
Max grunts, "what the fuck are bathers?"
Daniel laughs, loud and deep in his chest at Max's confusion before wracking his brain for terminology Max would understand. Instead, he gesticulates vividly and says, "something you can swim in."
"A swimsuit?" Max asks, face still pressed into cotton sheets, light now shining in through the open curtain and draping across his face. "Yes, of course, I brought a swimsuit."
"Good," Daniel says, grabbing his own from some drawers to change into. "Put them on. We'll go after breakfast."
After changing, he walks into the kitchen. Daniel's mum and dad are nowhere to be seen, just a note tacked onto the fridge that says they've gone into town for the day and that the farmhands came this morning. Neon green numbers on the microwave catch his eye, 9 am and it just makes the hot weather just that much more intolerable.
Daniel puts bread in the toaster and is grabbing out margarine and the vegemite when Max walks out, face sleep-soft and hair messy but also clad in tiny fucking shorts. Daniel almost drops the items in his hands when he sees Max, and turns quickly so he doesn't notice the blush creeping up Daniel's neck and invading his cheeks.
"What is that?" Max says, not noticing Daniel's reaction to his choice of shorts and instead reading the label on the jar. "Vegemite?"
Daniel hums in response, not trusting his voice when the toast pops. "Do you want to try it?" he asks, and Max grabs it from the countertop and smells it.
"It smells disgusting," he comments and instead, turns to the cabinet to get a bowl, and then the fridge to get some milk before snooping in the pantry for cereal. It's so natural, having Max here, Daniel thinks. He never wants Max to leave.
"C'mon," Daniel goads after he's slathered the black, sticky spread on the toast. "Just bite the corner. There's hardly any there." He's trying his best to focus only on Max's face, and not his lips, not his exposed legs, as he sighs and leans forward for a bite.
He chews for a moment, and then Max's face scrunches up in disgust and Daniel can't help but laugh and feel endeared by his expression. "That is disgusting, Daniel," he says and he returns to his cereal quickly. "I don't know how you eat that. It's horrible."
"It's an Australian staple, Maxy," he retorts, chewing happily on the toast himself, "and now that you've tried some, you're officially a citizen."
"I'm not sure if I want to be one," Max laughs, "if that is what you people eat."
Daniel laughs alongside Max. It's nice, standing here in the kitchen and being just Max and Daniel. "Wait till you see what we eat for Christmas."
The tone shifts, he notices the uncomfortable look in Max's eye. "Are you sure it is okay I'm here for Christmas? It is a family holiday."
Daniel picks his plate up and crosses the kitchen so he's standing in front of Max, who's seated at the breakfast bar. "You are family," he says, earnestly and whole-heartedly, "I think my parents like you more than me." He says it like a joke, but there's some truth in there. The way Max has charmed Daniel's parents is nothing like anything he's ever seen before—not from past girlfriends, not even from Michelle's husband.
"Don't be ridiculous, of course, they don't like me that much." Max sounds defiant, but there's a gentleness in the way he says it, as if he's not actually fighting Daniel on it, like it's something he genuinely believes. "Thank you."
Daniel shakes his head. "Stop saying thank you, I wouldn't want you anywhere else but here," he says. It feels disgustingly honest, so vulnerable as the words leave his lips. The pink tint on Max's cheeks is not something he can ignore this time. They're inside, under the air conditioner—there's no other reason why suddenly his cheeks are blushing.
"But, I am not eating vegemite for Christmas, Daniel," Max says, changing the subject as his eyes dart away from Daniel and towards the window. "It's gross."
Max might've looked away from him, but Daniel can't look away from Max. "I'm being a pest," Daniel says, "we eat normal stuff for Christmas."
"Nothing ridiculous, like England?" he asks, turning back to Daniel and when Max notices that Daniel hadn't looked away, his cheeks go even pinker. "I heard they have something stupid called pigs in blankets."
Daniel can't describe how he feels right now, how inexplicably right everything feels with Max sitting in front of him, talking about Christmas as if Max being here was a part of the plan all along. "No, we don't have pigs in blankets. That would be disrespectful to the pigs outside."
Max lets out a giggle, one he tries to hide because he has a mouth full of cereal. It makes something stir in Daniel's chest, making him realise just how much he enjoys making Max laugh, making Max happy.
——
"Where are we going?" Max asks when they walk out towards the car, noticing the keys jingle in Daniel's hands. The sun is beating down now, the temperature seemingly rising by the minute. The truck beeps as Daniel unlocks it and he's quick to gasp when he jumps in the car.
"Just to a swimming hole— be careful of the seatbelt," Daniel says quickly when Max climbs in next to him. "It can burn you." He remembers growing up, how he and Michelle would try and snag each other with the metal clip on 30-plus degree days. He doesn't want Max to fall victim to the branding iron either.
He cranks the air conditioner—it's only a 5-minute drive through the paddock to the swimming hole, but it's sweltering and Daniel doesn't feel like sitting in his own sweat for the duration of the drive. The steering wheel is hot, he hisses when his hands come into contact with it, and Max snickers from beside him.
"Fuck off," Daniel says, fake malice in his voice as he turns on the engine and begins to drive to the best of his ability. "It's hot, alright?"
Max hums and looks out the window, at the pastures flying past them, green trees and yellowing grass morphing together. Daniel tries not to get distracted by Max sitting in the passenger seat, by his knobby knees and blond hair on his thighs that peeks out from the ridiculously pink swim trunks.
Soft music plays through the radio, Daniel tells Max he's friends with the band and when Max doesn't believe him he makes a point to put on a song he's literally mentioned in on. Max still doesn't believe him, even when the lyrics that sing his surname fly through the speakers. He accuses Daniel of just saying it to impress him and it just makes Daniel more agitated, more whiny, more in love with Max and his ability to rile him up.
Daniel parks the car and clambers out, grabbing his cooler from the backseat quickly. "Put that on," he says as he throws the bottle of sunscreen at Max. He just rolls his eyes at Daniel, but obliges nonetheless, pulling his shirt off and lathering the protection all over his body as far as he could reach.
"Can you help?" Max asks sheepishly, turning around for Daniel to see much of his back isn't covered. Daniel lets in a sharp breath but agrees, walking over to Max and taking the sunscreen from him.
Daniel's hands trace Max's back, his fingers run up against his ribs, across his shoulder blades. It's electrifying, being this close to Max, and there's something so oddly romantic about helping him right now. The way Max's muscles move under his skin is hypnotising, Daniel's convinced he's deranged.
And then his hands move lower, to where dimples poke in his back and where the pink shorts meet his waist and Daniel thinks he might pass out if he's forced into staring at Max's toned back for a second longer.
"There, all good," Daniel coughs as he speaks, and moves away as Max turns, goes to squirt more sunscreen onto his palms to use on himself but Max snatches it from his hand. "What—"
"Let me," Max says, voice tender and it makes Daniel feel dizzy, like even the slightest gush of wind could push him over.
Max starts with Daniel's face, slapping him gently on the cheek. Daniel winces and Max laughs, it's like music to Daniel's ears. "You're so annoying," Daniel says and when he peeks an eye open, Max doesn't react, just keeps his tongue between his teeth to stop his laughter.
He spins Daniel around, rubs along his shoulders, fingers manipulating the ligaments and pressing deep into Daniel's muscles, like he's giving him a massage. "I love your tattoos," Max offhandedly comments as he runs his hands down Daniel's spine. He shivers and whispers an apology for jolting so quickly. "You're fine."
It's sweet, Daniel thinks, how careful Max is at making sure every inch of Daniel is covered in sunscreen. It sends his nerves alight, blazing through his veins every time Max touches him and his hands are gone from Daniel's body much too soon.
"All done," Max says, sounding oddly proud of himself when he notices all the sunscreen is rubbed in.
"Thanks, Maxy," Daniel says, taking the sunscreen and rubbing a little extra over his arms, hands and thigh, ensuring the tattoos are nice and covered and then, he cracks a beer and passes it to Max, and then cracks another one for himself. They both walk slowly into the water—Max comments that he thinks it's freezing—mud squishing between their toes but soon enough, they relax.
They float, and talk, and drink their beers. They both laugh when Max slips on a rock and almost falls underneath the water and later when Daniel's floating on his back and Max pulls him by the waist, shocking and drowning him in one.
"You fucking bitch," Daniel says when he comes to the surface, but he's laughing as he says it, chasing Max as fast as he can through the water. Max squeals, high-pitched and terrified, like Isabella would if Daniel were chasing her instead of Max. "Come back here! You made me spill my beer."
The water makes it difficult to run, but he catches up with Max eventually, wraps his arms around his pale waist and pulls Max towards himself. Max shrieks as Daniel loses his footing and they both go slamming into the water, backs landing against a mirage of rocks and mug on the swimming hole floor.
"Fuck," Daniel says when they both come up. "Sorry, Maxy, I didn't mean to pull you under so aggressively."
A pout is on Max's lips now and Daniel's certain he's going to get a lecture before Max's lips break out into a grin. "Well, now you've made me spill my beer. So we're even," he says, throwing the can towards the cooler on the dock.
Daniel pushes Max again when he's not paying attention, shock washing over his face as he slips and falls right on his bum and Daniel bursts out laughing again. "For the number one driver these days, you sure have shit reflexes," he quips, and before he knows it, Max's eyes are narrowed, a plan forming in his mind as he leans up and grabs Daniel by the swim trunks.
Daniel falls once again, this time atop Max. They're in the shallow part of the swimming hole now, it's easy enough to sit and still have a head above water and now Daniel is on top of Max and his head is swimming with panic.
But they don't move. Max wraps his arms around Daniel to keep him still, lets him sit comfortably on top of Max's thick thighs. "Hi," Max whispers and an electric current runs down Daniel's spine, he thinks he might be electrocuted if he stays any longer in the water.
"Hi."
Max smiles and releases his grip, but Daniel doesn't move—just shifts, slightly, so it's a more comfortable position for them both. "I like having you here," Daniel admits, softly, against Max's ear, so quiet even the ants in the dirt wouldn't be able to hear him.
"I like being here too," Max confesses back, and it feels like he's confessing to so much more than admitting he likes being in Australia.
"Why did you come here, Maxy?" Daniel is gentle in asking, but it's been eating him alive. He's wondered, since the day Max arrived on Australian soil so early that one morning, why he had fled his home so quickly and erratically.
Max sighs and pushes Daniel off of him, but not in a way that indicates he wants Daniel to get away, quite the opposite. He shifts them so they're sitting side by side in the cool water, the sun warm on their backs and Max lays his leg over Daniel's tattooed thigh, a way to say 'stay here, next to me.'
"There's just," he starts, eyes not able to look at Daniel. He fiddles with his fingers, the skin wrinkly from being in the water for so long. He picks and rips at the skin around his nails until red bubbles appear and blood pools in his nail bed. "So much pressure at home. Being around Dad."
Daniel frowns, but doesn't speak. He takes Max's hand in his own to stop him from picking at his skin. He traces his knuckles as Max continues speaking. "He was already talking about next year, how much closer I am to beating Sebastian's record at Red Bull, it's just…"
"Too much?" Daniel finishes for him, and Max nods.
"I had to get away and I didn't think, I just got on a plane and suddenly I was here." Max turns his head to look at Daniel, and for once, Daniel feels like he can see exactly how Max feels.
"I'm glad you came here," Daniel says, and the way Max is looking at him is so overwhelming that he can't even stop himself from speaking again, "I love you, Maxy." The words just force themselves out.
"I love you too, of course," he replies, his lips quirking up in a smile and Daniel feels light-headed, like he's going to pass out but he has to elaborate, he has to tell Max—
"I love you," he repeats, more sure of his words this time around, "like more than a friend, Maxy. Like a… Boyfriend."
Max breaks out into a grin and even if the sun went and hid behind clouds right now, the sky would continue to be lit up by the smile on his face. "I love you too, of course," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "Why else would I end up here."
Daniel sits, gobsmacked, and stares at Max. "No, you don't," he argues, but the feeling in his chest ensures him that yes, this is real life.
"I do," Max says it so, so easily, like he's been thinking it for so, so long. "Forever, I think."
Daniel feels his heart quicken, and he pulls Max closer, if it was even possible, and his hands move to cup his full cheeks with his palms. Max's face is warm, a result of the sun beating down on them all day, but Daniel's sure the tint of blush isn't helping his cheeks' temperature.
"Me too," he whispers faintly before connecting their lips in what feels like the pinnacle moment of Daniel's life. It feels like lightning has made its way into his bloodstream, infiltrating every cell and nerve in his body when they finally kiss.
There's not a single moment of hesitation between them, as if they have been doing this for years, like they were both built with the need to kiss each other. Max shifts slightly, runs his hands down Daniel's torso for the second time today, grabs him by the waist and pulls him closer.
Daniel whines, and lets out a breath against Max's lips. "Fuck," he says and he hears Max snicker as their lips reconnect. Daniel thinks this is the easiest thing he's ever done, easier than driving a car, easier than overtaking with DRS and brand new soft tyres, easier than breathing.
Daniel wouldn't trade sitting in a swimming hole, in the middle of summer, kissing Max Verstappen for anything.
He thought all the soft touches and accidental brushes set his skin alight, but nothing would ever compare to kissing Max under the sun. The way Max's stubble brushes against Daniel's chin makes him feel all hot and bubbly inside, and he never wants to lose it.
He's panting, breathing in deeply, when they finally pull away and Daniel can't disconnect from Max. Instead, he presses his forehead to Max's wet shoulder, catches his breath and then nips his shoulder gently between his teeth.
"What– Daniel?" Max questions, pushing him softly. "Why are you biting me?"
Daniel laughs, and leans forward to press a quick peck on his lips. "Because I can," he replies, a bright smile on his face and Max scowls at Daniel. "What are you gonna do? Break up with me?"
He regrets the words the second they leave his mouth, but Max's frown turns into a gentle smile. "No," he says, "I could never. You're stuck with me."
"Good," Daniel replies, pulling Max by the waist until they both flop back into the cold water. "You're stuck with me too, Maxy."
——
Later, when Daniel's driving them back to his place, they hold hands over the console. Max sits in the passenger seat, head thrown back, eyes closed and chest is red raw, a result of not reapplying sunscreen and he's pouting.
"You idiot," Daniel mutters when he sees Max wince from the corner of his eye when the seatbelt rubs against his chest again. "You should have put more sunscreen on."
"I'm never coming back here in summer again," Max grumbles under his breath, "stupid sun, stupid heat."
Daniel snickers and tightens his grip on Max's hand. He knows Max is just being dramatic. "Sure baby," is all he says as he pulls his car into its parking spot. "Let's get you some aloe vera."