'Cause Baby You're a Firework!

by mikadonian

Summary:

Max Verstappen, sole omega on the grid, was doing just fine with his life until the FIA mandates that all omegas should either be mated or be in a pack in order to compete. Having been shunned from the grid pack during his debut years and having no other pack to join, Max's only option is to find a mate. In three months.
What follows is Max going on various dates with random alphas while remaining oblivious to the rest of the grid tripping over themselves to court him.

(Or The Bachelorette x Omegaverse x F1 but the bachelorette doesn't know he's the bachelorette and the bachelors are willing to shun each other into the wall at turn 1)

Notes:

• For SigurLuna.

PLEASE READ

1. I've taken liberties with the timeline. Pls imagine that Yuki & Laurent were at RBR from the start of the season, cause I just cannot be bothered to write in the whole team-principal-change drama...

2. I've mostly stuck to the real race results but in some places I've changed it for the plot.

3. I started writing this a long time ago and my opinion on some of the drivers have changed since then but this story is meant to be light-hearted anyway so I just let it be.

4. I know this trope has been used before but I just love it so much!!!

UPDATES ARE IRREGULAR

Chapter 1

Max should’ve seen this coming, he really should’ve. An omega having an easy time being an F1 driver is a story too good to be true. But, naively, he didn’t see it coming.

So now here he is, staring at an unexpected email from the FIA regarding an update in the rules and resisting the urge to ram his head through the kitchen window.

Max has read it once. Then again. And again. And again. One second it makes sense. Then the next, it doesn’t. He knows that he should probably call GP. Or Rupert. Or Laurent. Or even fucking Christian who still, for some reason, answers Max’s calls on the first ring.

But he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the words on the screen:

Section IV: Pack Membership and Suppression Requirements

1. All Betas must belong to a recognized pack.
2. All Alphas must belong to a recognized pack and must remain on a suppressant regimen at all times.
3. All Omegas must either belong to a pack or be mated and must also be on an approved suppressant regimen.
4. These amendments have been made for the safety and wellbeing of all personnel on the paddock, including, while not limited to, omegas.
5. Failure to meet any of these requirements will result in immediate disqualification, with no chance of appeal and no exceptions.

Max knows he’s sitting at his dining table, but he feels like he’s free-falling. Jimmy purrs from his place on the counter and Sassy rubs her soft fur against his ankle but he doesn’t sense any of it. Doesn’t hear his own breathing. Doesn’t even feel his own breathing.

It’s like he’s underwater, looking at the world through a film of incomprehension and he feels like he’s suffocating and-

The shrill cry of his ringtone makes his eyes snap to his phone. GP’s name flashes across it and he picks up without a second thought.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and shaky.

“Max,” GP says with a hint of surprise, like he didn’t expect Max to pick up. “Did you- did you get the email?”

“Yeah, I… yeah.” Max tries to find more words. To tell GP that it’s not as bad as it looks. Or to ask GP to tell him that it’s not as bad as it looks. But he can’t. His throat feels like it’s been scratched dry.

“Max, listen. It’s going to be fine.” If GP is a master at anything, it’s at calming Max down through words. “We’ll figure something out. Laurent already called me. He’s talking with the FIA about what the fuck is going on. He’ll be in contact with you soon.”

“I don’t- Fuck!” Max slams his laptop shut in frustration, not caring if the screen cracks. Let it. He would rather not have to read those words ever again. “Why the fuck are they doing this? Just… why?”

His voice cracks on the last word as tears blur his vision. He knows why. Because it’s simply unacceptable to let an omega be.

And the amendment is aimed at him and him alone, there’s no doubt about that. Every beta and alpha on the grid are part of the grid pack, regardless of how much they actually take part in pack activities. They belong to the pack.

The only one who doesn’t is Max.

And he also isn’t mated.

Two facts the FIA is aware of.

The suppressant clause seems to have been added just to dilute the attention; to make it less obvious that they’re targeting one driver specifically. And the one about it being for omega’s safety is absolute horseshit.

“Hey, relax,” Max hears GP say and the alpha’s voice immediately helps to calm him down. Everything about GP is calming to Max, his voice, his scent, his presence. He wishes the other could be here now. He doesn’t say it, of course. “We’ll get everything sorted.”

Max feels a few stray tears start to slide down his face.

“I don’t – I don’t want to-” he has to rip the words from his throat, “I don’t want to stop racing, GP. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll do whatever they want. Just… please. I don’t want to stop racing.”

He is very much aware that his tears are palpable through his voice and that there’s nothing GP can do about an FIA mandate, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when his entire life seems to be crashing around him.

“And you won’t have to.” GP sounds so sure of it and Max finds himself desperately trying to believe it. To latch onto some of the confidence GP seems to have. “Laurent sounded beyond pissed when he called me. He won’t let this slide.”

“There’s just three more weeks till the new season starts,” Max says, more to himself than GP. Three weeks? The fuck is he supposed to accomplish in three weeks? Find a pack? Find a mate?

“And when it starts, you’ll be in that car, chasing another title,” GP replies. “Trust me on that Max.”

Max sighs. There’s really not much else he can do except be comforted by GP’s words. He alone has no power to go against the FIA. Maybe Red Bull as a team does, but three weeks is dismal time.

He thanks GP anyway and with a final reassuring word and the promise to check in later, GP hangs up. Max buries his head in his hands and sits there in the silence, too many thoughts rattling around in his head for any of them to make sense.

He’s angry. At himself for not anticipating something like this. At the FIA for being absolute cunts. And the entirety of society for giving so many shits about sub-gender.

He’s also frustrated. And sad. And hungry.

Right.

He decides to focus on the latter because well, it’s the only thing in his control right now. He orders a pizza, praying that Rupert will forgive him, before picking up Jimmy and Sassy and moving to the couch.

He entertains calling Lando but there’s little his fellow driver can do, other than listen to Max vent. And he’d rather not bother his friend this late at night.

He curls up among the cushions, Jimmy settling on his thighs and sassy curled into a ball in his arms. He drops little kisses to Sassy’s head, willing himself to find comfort in their presence. Jimmy yawns and licks his nose before closing his eyes. Sassy purrs beside him, taking great pleasure in the attention Max is bestowing her. She throws her head up, bumping her little nose with his.

For the first time since he read that email, Max smiles.

His eyes stray from his cat to the opposite wall of the living room, lined with his trophies and helmets. He stares at them for a while before taking a deep breath.

He’s a Formula 1 driver. He’s a race winner. He’s a fucking world champion.

He’s not going to just roll over and offer up his life’s hard work just because society couldn’t bear to be accepting and inclusive.

He keeps nuzzling Sassy’s fur as he starts to compartmentalise. He takes his anger and frustration and sadness and locks it away in a box, even if the tear tracks are still drying across his cheeks. Then he thinks.

He runs the words of the email over in his head again.

He has two options. Either find a pack or find a mate.

He has never spared much thought to finding a mate or settling down and he’s always been public about that. It has led to people constantly pestering him about how he will grow old and die alone if he doesn’t marry and have pups. But it’s not like he’s an ideal omega anyway; going against every omega stereotype and expectation like he’s getting paid for it. Which, in a way, he is.

He’s also pretty sure that regardless of the attention he gets from random alphas, none of them will stick around long if they actually get to know the real him. Stubborn. Rebellious. Difficult.

And he doesn’t want to have pups until he is well and truly retired from the sport, which Max is certain won’t appeal to any alpha.

So, he’s stuck to himself. Only ever calling on the appropriate services when he gets his biannual heats. Even then, it is an entirely professional affair where he doesn’t even have the alpha’s real name.

As for packs, while it’s becoming less and less taboo for someone to go without belonging to a pack, it is still somewhat unheard of. Medically, it’s even frowned upon, stating that it’s better for overall health for anyone (especially alphas and omegas) to be in a pack.

Max has only ever been in his family pack, which crumbled when his mom left with Victoria. It didn’t change the fact that his father still called all the shots though. As the alpha guardian of an omega, he decided almost everything and could even override a doctor’s handling of suppressants. Thankfully, Max managed to break free from his clutches when he joined Red Bull and got his own steady income.

But it still left him without a pack and even more alone than he had been.

He tried joining the grid pack. God, he really fucking tried. He accompanied Carlos and Daniel to the grid room a few times but the moment he entered, he sensed the way the air changed, and the smells soured. The glares where less concealed than the whispers.

Outside the pack room was no better. Insults about him and his driving thrown to the media. Any attempt made by him to ask for help or tips was either met with stone cold silence or a growl. Anytime he displayed an interest in anything, racing or otherwise, it was met with quiet mockery.

Eventually, he stopped going to the pack room and even minimised his interaction with fellow drivers, opting to avoid an unnecessary confrontation.

Both Carlos and Daniel asked him why a few times, but Max never answered.

The next time someone said that Max was a reckless driver and should not be part of the grid, they stopped asking.

And Max, rebellious and overconfident as all teenagers tend to be, convinced himself that he wasn’t hurt. That he didn’t need a pack anyway, despite the small shots of pain in his chest whenever he overheard other drivers talking about anything pack-related. Despite all the signs that he very much did need a pack.

Later, when Lewis became pack alpha, he approached Max and asked him if he wanted to join. Max was and still is closer with the current drivers than he had been with the previous ones, so the pack room would’ve been more inviting. But every muscle in Lewis’s body, the glint in his eyes and the staleness of is smell, indicated that he didn’t want to be asking that.

Max knew how to take a hint.

Besides, while he has tried to convince himself otherwise, there must have been some reason all the previous drivers disliked him whenever he tried to get close. Maybe if he kept his distance, the current drivers won’t grow to hate him too.

He refused the offer and tried not to cry when Lewis seemed to fill with relief.

There were garage packs a long time ago but mixing packs with professional hierarchy became an issue (Max knows that that’s just a nicer way of saying that it was harder to fire people or reprimand them for underperforming) so the FIA banned them altogether.

Which has left Max, well and truly, alone.

It’s not like he can join a random pack, and neither are there services for it as there are with alphas.

Fuck, he thinks as the implication of it crashes over him like a bucket of ice. If Laurent doesn’t find a way to overturn this, Max is going to have to find an alpha to mate in three weeks.

The thought nearly makes him want to scream. Whatever determination he gathered a few seconds ago to sort this whole thing out is slipping through his fingers. Frustrated tears fill his eyes and Sassy mewls, rubbing her face against his cheek.

His phone lights up again and this time, it’s Laurent.

“Max,” Laurents says the moment he picks up. He sounds like he’s walking in a rush. “I just got off the phone with an FIA official. Gave the bastard a proper piece of my mind.” He sounds angry in a way Max knows is rare.

“And what did they say?” Max asks timidly. He doesn’t care that Laurent can decipher the fear in his voice.

Laurent sighs and Max can imagine the way the older man’s shoulders drop as he does so.

“They aren’t going to take back their decision. The rules are staying in place.”

Max has to fight to hold in a whimper. Maybe he fails. He’s not quite sure.

“But,” Laurent says, and Max holds his breath, “they’re willing to give a time extension on implementing it. Three months. Afterwards, no exceptions or leeway.”

Max isn’t sure whether to be happy or sad all over again. Because yes, he now at least has three months to find a mate, but he still has to find a mate.

“What do we do now?” he asks, voice small, as he curls further into himself. Sassy meows and licks the tip of his nose as a way of comfort.

“Well…” Laurent trails off, clearly fighting for the right words. It takes him a while to find them. “What are you comfortable with?”

“I’m not going to stop driving if that’s what you’re asking,” Max’s voice is a bit steadier as he speaks. “I already told GP; I’m doing whatever it takes to keep my seat.”

GP, Rupert and Christian have always known why he isn’t on the grid pack and when Laurent became team principal, he never asked but Max could tell he was curious. He’d surely heard the rumours about it swirling around beforehand. When Max did tell him, he was furious, partly at him being shunned from the pack and partly at the inaccuracy and (as he put it) disrespect behind some of the rumours.

So, he knows more than anyone else that the only option Max has is to mate. And Max doesn’t hold it against him for being unsure if Max would sacrifice his freedom for racing.

But he would. He would sacrifice anything for racing.

“Good. Max, I- yeah that’s good.” Max can almost smell the relief behind the words. “So, then I guess we’ll…”

“Guess I’ll have to find a mate.”

Saying the words out loud feels awfully final. As if before, he was expecting an FIA official to jump out of his cabinets and yell, “Sike!”. Now, there’s no denying it. He has to do it.

“Can you do that? Or would you like us to take care of it?” Max frowns at the question.

“What, you mean like matchmaking?” he asks. Letting someone else make a decision he is already being forced to make would be a new low.

“Max,” Laurent says with the tone of a parent trying to make a child see reason, “the FIA has already informed the media about this change in rules. It won’t be long before every alpha remotely interested in the sport gets to know that you’re officially looking for a mate. And that you’re short on time. We need to be smart about this. Filter them at least.”

Max wants to fight back, say that he’s capable of doing it himself. But he knows that his team principal has a point. The only way this situation could get worse is if he gets stuck with an alpha who’s only there for clout. Or worse, someone who wants to control him and his career.

“We’ll look around,” Laurent goes on when Max doesn’t reply. “Keep it discreet. Just… tell us what you would like?”

“What, you mean my type?” Max asks with the hints of a watery smile tugging at his lips.

GP and Rupert have always teased him about the gifts he got and told him which alphas they think would be a good match. His mechanics joined in too, sometimes, and gave him shit about liking alphas taller than him despite being one of the tallest on the grid. When Laurent had replaced Christian, Max wanted to build an equally comfortable relationship with him where they could joke about stuff like that.

He never thought they would have to talk about it with this much gravity though.

Laurent chuckles on the other end of the line, but it sounds strained.

“Yeah, something like that,” he says.

“I… I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” Max doesn’t really have a type. He’s always allowed the alpha service agencies to send him whoever, knowing that he won’t mind any way.

“Alright, I’m flying over to Monaco with GP and Rupert tomorrow. We’ll meet you at your place to discuss this further.”

“What? No. You don’t have to do that!” Max rushes to say, that part of him that hates to inconvenience his team roaring to life. “I’ll be in Milton Keynes in a few days anyway. We’ll talk then.”

“That’s too much time, we need to sort this out asap.” Then after a pause, “And I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am, really,” Max tries his best convincing voice.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Until then just, stay off any socials and try to take your mind off things.”

He hangs up and Max throws the phone onto the coffee table. Sassy stares up at him, her big black eyes shining in the dim light. Jimmy seems to have failed at napping because of all the talking and has joined his sister in Max’s arms.

He raises his paw onto Max’s chest and meows.

Max laughs softly and borrows his face in their soft fur.

“At least I have you two,” he mumbles.

God, he should tell Laurent that his future alpha has to like cats.

 

 

It takes Charles longer than he would like to admit to fully comprehend the meaning of the words.

He gets up and checks his phone to be greeted by an email from the FIA first thing in the morning. An amendment of rules.

He throws the phone back onto the nightstand when he realises that the amendment doesn’t warrant a reaction from him. He’s been on suppressants since he was sixteen and he’s very much a part of the grid pack.

So, he goes about his day. Goes for a run, washes Leo, showers himself, has breakfast, flicks through some local news channels.

It’s when he’s sitting on the balcony, feet propped up on the railing with Leo curled up and dozing off on his lap, that the realisation dawns on him. And he almost inhales his cappuccino.

In his haste to grab his phone, he jostles Leo awake and almost drops his cup. Leo gives a low whine as a complaint but goes right back to sleep when Charles strokes a hand down his spine.

He then pulls up the email and reads it again-

‘All Omegas must either belong to a pack or be mated and must also be on an approved suppressant regimen.’

Charles did wonder why the FIA felt the need to make this change since it didn’t to make much of a difference.

Now, he sees the subtle powerplay behind it. And he wants to throw his phone over the balcony.

Instead, he opens the grid pack’s chat, which has been dormant for two days, everyone either enjoying the last of their free time or gearing up for the new season.

 

Charles Leclerc

Guys

Guys!

What do we do?

Lando Norris

Good day to you too Charles.

Pray tell what the fuck you’re talking about.

Charles Leclerc

Read your emails.

Lando Norris

Alright. Give me a minute.

Oh

Oh fuck no

Liam Lawson

It’s just asking us to be on suppressant and be in a pack.

What’s the issue?

Oh, wait, Max!

Oliver Bearman

Well, everyone knows he’s not in the grid pack.

Why would they demand that he be in a pack?

And so close to the start of the season as well?

Yuki Tsunoda

Is this why Laurent was stressed when I called this morning?

Doesn’t the FIA know it’s going to mess up a lot of things?

Fernando Alonso

One thing about the FIA kiddo, they’re assholes.

They knew exactly what they were doing.

Pierre Gasly

I agree with Nando.

But still.

This is an all-time low, even for them.

Charles Leclerc

Can we please bash the FIA later?

We need to talk about this.

Oscar Piastri

Is there anything we can do?

File an appeal?

As the GPDA?

Fernando Alonso

George?

George Russell

I’m looking into it. Give me a sec.

Esteban Ocon

This rule only affects Max.

It’s pretty clear who the FIA is going after…

Carlos Sainz

James says he’s talked with an FIA official and they’re just acting like it’s completely normal.

Wouldn’t be surprised if the media spins this one on Max as well.

Alex Albon

Guys, has anyone talked to Max yet?

Maybe we should ask him what he plans to do?

George Russell

Bad news – we can’t do anything.

Oliver Bearman

Why not? There has to be something!

George Russell

The assholes really thought this one through.

Rule no. 4 is ‘These amendments have been made for the safety and wellbeing of all personnel on the paddock, including, while not limited to, omegas’

Carlos Sainz

So what?

We know that’s all lies!

George Russell

Yes, but imagine how it would look like if we filed an official complaint…

A group of alphas asking to overturn a rule meant for the ‘safety of omegas’?

Yeah no… that’s going to make things worse.

Yuki Tsunoda

But we can still try!

Fernando Alonso

I’m afraid George has a point.

If the media makes us looks like the bad guys for objecting, the FIA can ride the wave and bring in more rules under the guise of ‘omega safety’.

It’ll make things worse for Max.

Lando Norris

This is fucking unbelievable!

They can’t just force Max to join a pack!

Nico Hulkenberg

Well, he might not join a pack.

Lando Norris

The rules clearly state that he has to join a pack Nico.

Nico Hulkenberg

It’s ‘join a pack or mate’.

He might decide to mate too.

Lando Norris

….

Charles Leclerc

….

Oscar Piastri

….

Carlos Sainz

….

George Russel

….

Pierre Gasly

….

Oscar Piastri

Absolutely the fuck not!

Lando Norris

They can’t force him to mate!

That’s worse!

We have to make them repeal this.

George Russel

Not to be that guy but technically, we can’t protest against it with dear Lando’s argument there.

Lando Norris

Why not???

George Russel

Because they aren’t forcing anything. They’re giving a choice; racing or a single life.

Which is a shitty and disgusting choice but legally, they’re doing nothing wrong.

Pierre Gasly

This is unacceptable!

So they can just force him to find a mate?

When he’s repeatedly said he doesn’t want one?

George Russell

I hate to break it to you but none of what you just said is illegal from the FIA’s part.

Oscar Piastri

How is that even possible?

Lando Norris

That’s just bullshit!

Nico Hulkenberg

The FIA was never known for playing it fair.

Alex Albon

Guys guys guys!

The FIA are assholes. Nothing new.

Maybe, instead of losing our shit over a situation we can’t change, maybe, and hear me out now, we can try to find a way to help Max???

Charles Leclerc

Yes!

Fucking finally!

Someone with a fucking braincell!

Lando Norris

Someone make sure Chares isn’t on his balcony please

Charles Leclerc

I am!

And I’m gonna jump if we don’t start making productive conversations RIGHT NOW!

Oliver Bearman

Why don’t we just ask him to join the grid pack?

I mean, I know he hasn’t wanted to so far but… given the current situation, maybe he might change his mind.

Fernando Alonso

Accepting new members to the pack is up to Lewis.

Pierre Gasly

Speaking of, where is he?

Charles Leclerc

I think he has a meeting with Fred.

Yuki Tsunoda

I’m sure Lewis wouldn’t mind Max joining.

Especially given the critical circumstances.

Nico Hulkenberg

It’s not Lewis’ acceptance I’m worried about.

Liam Lawson

Then what?

Nico Hulkenberg

Max has never wanted to be a part of the grid pack.

If he joins now, it won’t be of his own volition.

And being in a pack you don’t actually want to be a part of can be very damaging to mental health.

Charles Leclerc

Well then what do we do?

Carlos Sainz

Is he close with any other pack?

Maybe he could join them?

Lando Norris

I’ll ask but… I don’t think so.

He’s always kept to himself.

Esteban Ocon

Well, if he’s not joining a pack, then he’s going to mate.

Charles Leclerc

….

Oscar Piastri

….

George Russell

….

Alex Albon

….

Esteban Ocon

….

Pierre Gasly

….

Oliver Bearman

What do we do now?

George Russell

Right.

Who here knows about The Thing^TM?

Oliver Bearman

What thing?

Pierre Gasly

Precisely.

Who else?

Yuki Tsunoda

I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Liam Lawson

Me neither.

Charles Leclerc

Do we tell them?

Alex Albon

Wait! Wait! Wait!

Why the fuck are you all bringing up The Thing?

No no!

I sense where this is going.

Absolutely not!

Liam Lawson

Can someone please elaborate?

Yuki Tsunoda

Yes, please.

Fernando Alonso

As long as nothing leaves this chat.

Oliver Bearman

Yeah, of course.

Fernando Alonso

I suppose they can know about the thing.

Liam Lawson

What thing?!

Lando Norris

Okay, so the thing is that almost everyone here wants to date Max.

Oliver Bearman

What???

Liam Lawson

Everyone?

Lando Norris

I said almost everyone.

Yuki Tsunoda

Well, why didn’t you date him?

Carlos Sainz

Believe me kid, I’ve been asking myself that every single day of my life.

I’m the first person Max knew out of everyone here.

I should’ve shot my shot.

Charles Leclerc

Woah, woah, woah.

I am very much alive and well.

Carlos Sainz

Alright.

Correction: I’m the first person he got close to.

Charles Leclerc

Technicalities.

Yuki Tsunoda

That still doesn’t answer my question?

George Russell

Well, Max has always firmly said he doesn’t want to mate. At least not anytime soon. So, we decided that confessing our crushes to him would only make him uncomfortable and that it would create awkward feelings between us.

Lando Norris

I mean, finding out all your coworkers want to date you when you specifically don’t want to date…

Kinda stressful.

Alex Albon

Which brings me to my initial question: Why the fuck are we bringing it up again?

I thought you idiots decided to wallow in misery till your graves and not bother Max.

Oscar Piastri

Come on.

You can’t deny that we’re the best option.

Alex Albon

Best option for what?

Oscar Piastri

If Max has to mate someone, better it be one of us.

Alex Albon

That’s some high talk.

Lando Norris

Oscar has a point.

We respect him. And we see him as our equal, if not better than us. Unlike most alphas.

Charles Leclerc

I personally think he is God but yeah, sure, equal or whatever you say.

George Russell

Save the flattery for later, Leclerc.

Oscar Piastri

My point still stands.

We all know the other alphas chasing after Max just want him for either the attention, money or the ego boost of dating a world champion. Or worse, because they want to control a world champion.

Oliver Bearman

That’s disgusting.

Pierre Gasly

It’s realistic, unfortunately.

Nico Hulkenberg

Well, when you put it like that, I guess it’s better it be one of you…

Lando Norris

Would you look at that.

We have Hulk’s blessing.

Alex Albon

You have no one’s fucking blessing because you’re not going to do anything.

George Russell

I don’t see one logical argument from you right now Alex.

Charles Leclerc

Fernando, what’s your verdict?

Fernando Alonso

You are the lesser of many evils I suppose.

Liam Lawson

So, what?

Are you guys collectively going to try and woo him now?

Won’t that circle back to the point of making him uncomfortable?

Alex Albon

Listen to him! He has wisdom!

Yuki Tsunoda

Wait, Lando. You said almost everyone wants to date Max.

So, who doesn’t?

Fernando Alonso

Not me. He’s basically a son to me.

Nico Hulkenberg

Me neither.

Alex Albon

I have Lily. I love her. I love Max too but it’s wholly platonic.

Esteban Ocon

Grey area. Still thinking about it.

George Russell

Better think fast, my man.

Max needs to find a mate in three weeks, and I already picked out an engagement ring.

Carlos Sainz

Well, you can shove it up your ass cause you’re not getting him.

Fernando Alonso

Hang on now.

Liam has a point.

You can’t go lovebombing him.

Pierre Gasly

You know what lovebombing is?

Fernando Alonso

Besides the point.

Anyway, maybe you should all take it slow?

Oscar Piastri

I’ll take it slow or medium paced or whatever.

But I need to know my competition first.

Nico and Nando are out. So is Alex. Estie’s disqualified due to lack of preparation.

The three of you that didn’t know about The Thing, where do you make your stand?

Charles Leclerc

You’re making this sound like war.

Oscar Piastri

It is. Watch your back Leclerc.

Yuki Tsunoda

No, I’m with Alex, Fernando and Nico.

I love Max a lot but more like a brother.

George Russell

You mean mother?

Yuki Tsunoda

No!

Fernando Alonso

George, no bullying on the chat.

Liam Lawson

Well… do I have a chance?

Carlos Sainz

It’s a level playing field.

I mean, sure I have the upper hand with being Max’s favourite but the rest of you have equal chances of coming second.

Lando Norris

I know where you live Sainz.

Lock your fucking windows.

Carlos Sainz

My point is, of course you have a chance Liam.

Have you had a crush on Max?

Liam Lawson

I mean… I knew he’s hot.

And sweet.

And smells really nice.

Pierre Gasly

We get it Liam.

Ollie, what about you?

Oliver Bearman

Hey guys, the internet says that scented plushies are a good, subtle courting gift.

What do you think?

Lando Norris

My guy’s already buying gifts.

Well, I’m off to Cartier.

Fernando Alonso

I just said to take it slow.

Pierre Gasly

Look, we all have places to be so why don’t we all take a step back, take a deep breath and talk later to come up with a slow plan that’ll also work in three weeks, yeah?

Charles Leclerc

Yup, I definitely have places to be.

See you!

Oscar Piastri

…

Doesn’t he live the closest to Max’s apartment?

Lando Norris

Charles you better not be going where I think you’re going!

Charles, come back online this instant!

CHARLES!

CHARLES!

LECLERC!

Chapter 2

Notes:

apologise for any mistakes I may have missed cause I keep getting nauseous whenever I get reminded of abu dhabi...
also, ao3 writer's curse is true cause I just had a traumatic af experience lol

Charles knows that if Lorenzo, or worse, his mother, sees him right now, they will hit him upside the head. Because a Leclerc alpha doesn’t go to court an omega dressed in baggy jeans and a plain t-shirt with nothing but a packet of macaroons to gift.

And it’s store-bought macaroons at that. The store being a supermarket he happened to pass by. And they aren’t even multi-flavoured. They’re all just pistachio. He isn’t even sure if Max likes pistachios.

If he doesn’t, well. The only other things he has on his person are his phone (which he cannot give because there’s a folder in the gallery named ‘mon petit lion’ with nothing but Max’s pictures), his wallet (which he can and is willing to give, along with his Amex) and his car keys (which Charles wouldn’t mind giving if he doesn’t think that Max would slap him in the face for offering him a Ferrari).

If Max isn’t impressed by the macaroons, then Charles can play the classic Hollywood rom-com protagonist and confess his undying love right here on Max’s doorstep. He might get throttled by Carlos but that’s a small price to pay.

As he knocks on the door, he thinks that maybe he will later regret rushing this so much, but George was right; they only have three weeks and with the way the group chat is looking, he has to make a move. And quickly.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears footsteps and a soft meow from the other side of the door. Just as the handle turns, Charles is hit with a scent that has his muscles tensing, and his alpha panicking. He knows how to decipher an omega in distress, but he specially knows how Max smells when he’s distressed.

When the door opens, Max stands at the open door dressed in a rumpled t-shirt and grey shorts. And he looks absolutely dishevelled. His hair is a mess, sticking up in a million different directions. His face is flushed and his eyes look red and glazed like he’s just stopped crying.

Charles has to strain to keep his feet rooted in place when every instinct is telling him to comfort the omega. To hug him and make sure the reason behind his tears is delt with. He’s not sure yet if Max would appreciate it so he opts to give off a faint calming scent instead.

Max seems to relax when he sees it’s Charles standing at his door. The tension is his shoulders drop, and his smell clears up slightly. It’s not back to its original sweetness though and Charles finds himself itching to the soul to punch whoever or whatever diminished it.

“Thank god it’s you,” Max breathes out, rubbing one of his eyes tiredly. “I thought it was some fan who found my address.”

“Just me,” Charles says, a smile slipping effortlessly onto his face. He can hardly not smile when in Max’s vicinity these days.

Charles realises then that he’s still holding the packet of macaroons, and he’s reminded of why he’s here in the first place. But the partially coherent love declaration he had in mind seems to have dissolved upon seeing Max’s sad eyes. Because right now, Max looks tired and sleepy and on the verge of crying again and yeah… He knows that what Max needs right now is some comfort and a shoulder to lean on. Not someone trying to woo him.

“Are those for me?” Max’s small voice interrupts his train of thought.

The omega’s looking down tentatively at the macaroons and Charles curses himself for only bringing one box.

“Yeah,” he says. Then rushes to add as he hands them over, “I was in a rush to come here so I… I just picked the only ones they had? I mean, I don’t know if you’ll like them or… if not I can-”

“I love pistachios,” Max interjects, looking down at the snack with a smile before turning his blue eyes onto Charles. And he looks so soft that Charles’s inner alpha screams with not being able to hold him.

Suddenly, the meow from earlier resonated down the empty hallway again and Charles snaps his eyes down. Jimmy sits between Max’s feet, staring up at him with his wide glassy eyes.

Charles leans down without much thought (because while Sassy should never find out, Jimmy is his and Leo’s favourite) to scoop the cat into his arms. Max steps back instinctively to give him space and Charles mentally kicks himself.

Way to go, you idiot, he thinks as Jimmy climbs into his hands readily, invade his personal space like an utter baboon!

He tries to convey his guilt through his scent but when he straightens back up, he finds it unnecessary. Max is looking between him and Jimmy with a soft smile, his head tilted to the side and eyes still shinning but no longer empty.

And finally, finally, his scent is back to the subtle mix of vanilla, coffee cake and hint of cinnamon. Charles wonders if Max would mind him having that scent turned into a perfume, though he’s certain it won’t be as good.

“Come on in,” Max says, turning and heading into the apartment.

Charles follows and notices the laptop wide open on the coffee table, an article about the FIA’s rule change displayed on the screen. Max is not someone who pays attention to the media storm surrounding their sport. He doesn’t read articles or posts or listen to critiques and analysis. So, if he’s reading this early in the morning, that means it’s got to him mentally.

When Max returns from the kitchen having stashed away the macaroons, he finds Charles staring at his laptop with a frown. He sighs and with the way he sounds, Charles is guessing that Max hasn’t got much sleep.

He decides that there’s really no reason to be beating around the bush. There’s a million different reasons Max could be upset right now, and all Charles needs to do, wants to do, is find out which it is and comfort him accordingly.

“What’s with the tears, Max?” he asks, laying Jimmy down on the couch and coming to stand near Max. “Do I need to punch someone?”

Max snorts. “Can you punch the FIA?”

Charles can damn well try.

Max runs his hands through his hair, likely gathering his thoughts. He closes the laptop and sits down on the couch, forearms propped on his thighs, prompting Charles to follow. He sits down closely; not close enough to touch but close enough that, if needed, Max can lean on his shoulder.

They sit is silence for a bit before Max asks, “You saw the new rule change, right?”

“Yes,” Charles replies, opting not to mention that everyone has discussed it already too. Then he adds, “I’m sorry,” because the situation is shit and he really is sorry. Sorry that Max has to go through this. Sorry that he can’t do anything about it. Sorry that Max doesn’t feel comfortable enough in the grid pack to join. Sorry that the FIA weaponised that small fact. Sorry about everything really.

“It’s just…” Max fiddles with the skin around his nails, “staying unmated is one of the biggest decisions I made for myself. Not that I hate alphas or anything,” he adds, turning to Charles.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he jokes back. Max’s lips quirk up slightly and Charles pats himself on the back.

“But all my life, I’ve felt like everyone else made the decisions for me: my dad, my managers, my doctors, Christian. I just…” Max swallows and Charles knows that it’s taking him a great effort to get the words out. “Deciding to be unmated felt like I was taking control of my life again. Like I was taking control over my designation, and I wasn’t letting being an omega hold me back. Now… I don’t even have that anymore.”

“Oh, Max.” Charles keeps his voice and scent soft as he gently puts a hand on Max’s upper back so that Max can pull away if he wants to. He doesn’t.

“I know it all looks shit right now,” he goes on, the words finding him with ease, “but you’ve never let your designation hold you back. With each race win, you proved to the world that being an omega doesn’t make you any less of a champion. And no one can take that away from you. Not even the FIA.”

Max looks at him then and his eyes are covered in a slight sheen of tears but he’s smiling and he smells so sweet… Charles can see why the entire grid fell in love with this man.

“Thank you, Charles.” Charles almost kisses his temple.

“And no alpha can ever control you,” Charles says it with as much conviction as possible, but he doesn’t struggle to do so because it’s the truth. Max Verstappen is a one-of-a-kind omega and if any alpha out there even thinks that they can control him… well, Charles feels very sorry for them.

“I know you don’t want to mate, and you’d rather stay single, but shit happens, and you have to face the storm first to make it out alright. And whichever alpha you choose, they’re going to be amazing.”

Charles hopes with every thread of his being that it’s him but even if it isn’t, he’ll be dead and buried before he lets Max be mated to an alpha who doesn’t deserve him. Who doesn’t worship him the way he should be.

“I mean,” he continues, “three weeks is frustrating but you’re amazing. So, I’m sure you’ll have alphas fighting each other to be your mate.”

Including myself and some other drivers, Charles thinks but does not say.

“Oh, Laurent actually got the FIA to give me three months.”

Charles’s breath catches. “What?”

“Yeah,” Max chuckles, “apparently, he gave them a ‘piece of his mind’.” He puts air quotes around the words. Like that’s what’s got Charles itching to grab his phone and pull up the grid pack chat.

“So… you don’t have to find someone in three weeks?” Charles asks, relief filling his heart. He knows that Fernando has a point; they can’t and shouldn’t rush Max with attention when they haven’t shown any interest so far. That will make them look just as bad as (if not worse than) the ones who want Max for media clout. But if it’s three months, while that’s still shit, at least they can take turns giving him courting gifts.

“Nope,” Max replies, popping the ‘p’ adorably. “I have to, in three months though.”

“Right,” is all Charles can say.

They lap into a comfortable silence after that, Max’s soft vanilla scent mixing with Charles’s combination of leather and sea breeze.

At some point, Max flicks the TV on and they watch the tail-end of a Brooklyn-Nine-Nine episode before Max’s phone lights up on the table in front of them. Charles catches Laurent’s name before the screen goes dark. Max sighs and Charles knows that his time is up.

“I think I should go,” he says, getting up and heading to the door. Max nods and follows him. “I left Leo in my rush to get here. He was sleeping but he might be up now.”

Max frowns before saying, “Bring him next time. You know I just maintain our friendship so that I can pet him.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I am very aware of your ulterior motives, Verstappen.”

Max laughs and Charles thinks that’s it. That he should open the door and leave now. But without another word, Max moves forward and hugs him. Charles’s arms reflexively come around the other’s waist, his alpha sensing an omega before Charles can sense Max. Max squeezes him and buries his face in his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, “for coming here. I needed someone to talk to.”

And Charles just might melt into a fucking puddle because what do you mean he can hug this absolute angel and feel his sweet scent, but he can’t kiss him all over the face?

Max pulls away far too quickly for Charles’s liking. But he takes that as the silent goodbye it is and says, “Anytime,” before heading out the door with one final smile thrown at Max.

 

When Charles gets home, he fires off a few quick messages to the group chat.

Charles Leclerc

The FIA is implementing the rules in three months!

We have time.

Lando Norris

Because three months is the ideal time to date someone before mating.

Pierre Gasly

I say we be happy with the leeway they’re giving Max.

It’s more than I expected from the heartless bastards.

Fernando Alonso

Now that you have more time, can you all please not overwhelm him?

Charles Leclerc

Yes, I wanna double down on what Fernando said.

I just went to meet Max.

Carlos Sainz

Oh, I bet you did.

Did you even take a courting gift?

Wait.

Did he agree to let you court him?!

George Russell

Charles you better not have!

Charles Leclerc

Okay, well, I took a courting gift with me, but I didn’t ask to court him.

Oscar Piastri

What was the gift?

Charles Leclerc

None of your business.

I’m not giving you any ideas.

Liam Lawson

Why didn’t you ask to court him though?

Charles Leclerc

Well, if you people would just let me finish!

Oscar Piastri

Apologies. Carry on.

Charles Leclerc

As I said, we should do what Fernando says because when I got to Max’s apartment, he wasn’t really in good shape.

George Russell

Wait, was he alright?

Charles Leclerc

He was, but it was clear he had been crying for some time.

Carlos Sainz

Someone at the FIA is fucking dying.

Charles Leclerc

It was clear he doesn’t want to mate and isn’t taking kindly to being forced into it.

He said he feels like he’s losing control of his life.

I tried consoling him as best I could but I’m sure he’s still upset over it. And rightfully so.

Us pouncing on him with gifts and dates would just make it more stressful for him.

Alex Albon

Okay, now I know this group chat hates to hear from me but just listen!

How about, instead of asking to court him directly, you can all just imply that you’re available if he wants to court?

Give him the time and freedom to choose without having to make an on-the-spot decision?

Fernando Alonso

I like that.

It doesn’t stress him out and gives him back some control over the situation.

And it also makes the rest of you look less like opportunistic hounds.

Oliver Bearman

How do you suggest we do that though?

Nico Hulkenberg

Keep the gifts subtle and thoughtful rather than flashy and expensive.

Nothing to make him feel like he has to pick you. Just that he can if he likes.

Just show him you’re available.

Lando Norris

Well don’t you sound experienced.

 Pierre Gasly

Old age does that to you.

Nico Hulkenberg

I refuse to help any of you with anything ever again.

Charles Leclerc

So, can we all agree not to put anymore pressure on Max, please?

Lando Norris

Yup.

Oscar Piastri

Got it.

Carlos Sainz

Copy that.

 

Charles gets a few more affirmative messages, and he puts his phone away with a sigh. His mind still flashes back to the way Max looked in that doorway, tired, tear-stained and frustrated. He hopes he never has to see him like that again and if the best help he can do right now is show his affection and then take a step back, he’ll gladly do it.

He doesn’t get to put more thought into it as Leo strolls up to him, still half-asleep and yawning.

Charles picks him up gently and brings him to eye-level.

“You’re steeling my man from me, you know that? Says he likes you more than me.”

Leo stares at him like Charles holds no value in this world unless he feeds him right now.

With a sigh, Charles gets up to grab the dog food.

 

Max isn’t sure how to feel after Charles’s impromptu visit.

His inner omega is still stuck between glitching states of anger and sadness. And being close to an alpha certainly hasn’t helped him to settle. (Maybe it would’ve, with any other omega and in any other situation.)

But being next to Charles did take away some of the weight on his shoulders. Max usually doesn’t like alphas being overly gentle and sweet with him; it makes him feel fragile. Yet the Monegasque has always had a way of being just the right amount of caring and sweet without it being condescending. Or maybe it’s just that Max knows Charles would never be condescending.

And something the other said – ‘you have to face the storm first to make it out alright’ – made a wavering determination in him solidify.

If he has to find an alpha and mate in order to keep his seat, then that’s what he’ll do. It won’t be easy. He’ll always mourn the freedom of an unmated omega and he’s sure the wound of it will hurt regardless of how good his alpha is. But racing always came first. Racing must come first.

 

It’s with this same angry, festering determination that he lets Laurent, Rupert and GP into his apartment much later in the day.

GP and Rupert hug him and offer comfort through their scents which instantly puts him at ease. They’re the two people Max trusts most in this world and when they tell him that everything will be alright, he believes it.

Laurent stares at him with sad eyes for a while before turning around and asking Max every possible detail about Jimmy and Sassy. Max knows then that Laurent feels responsible for this whole mess is some way. Maybe he thinks that Christian wouldn’t have let it happen? Or that he would’ve got Max more leeway?

It doesn’t matter though. Because Christian has never managed to pull off more than Laurent already has. This dance between the FIA and Red Bull has been going on for years, with the FIA bringing in a new, absurd, inconvenient rule about something omega related (heats, suppressants, scent patches) and Red Bull having to fight to keep Max in his seat.

The only difference this time is that what they’re demanding is irreversible and life changing.

As GP silently gets the espresso machine running, Max promises Laurent that he doesn’t blame him and that he did the best he could. He’s not quite sure the older man believes him though.

Then they have coffee in Max’s dining room and Max refrains from asking what the big file in GP’s arms is.

In the end, he doesn’t have to, because when Rupert returns after washing their cups, Laurents drags the file to the middle of the table.

“These,” he says, nudging it slightly towards Max, “are information sheets on some alphas. And a few betas, if you don’t mind.” Max shakes his head to show that he doesn’t. “Of course, you don’t have to pick one of them. You don’t even have to look through them if you don’t like to. But I had some people go through as many dating sites as possible and pick the best ones they could find.”

Max brings the file towards him and flicks through it. Inside are about a hundred double-sided information sheets, each one containing a picture, name, basic biometrics, occupation and so on.

“Of course, ‘best’ is a subjective thing,” Rupert adds. “If you give us some specifications, we can go through the websites again, narrow it down more. Maybe the type you’re looking for isn’t even in that file.”

Max turns to a random page and decides to read it.

Adam Harper. Canadian. Twenty-five. Alpha. Doctor. Six foot two inches.

And there’s a photo of a brown-haired man leaning back against the railing of a boat, windswept clothes and big smile.

He reads a few more and tries to ignore the discomfort crawling across his skin. James Ackelye. Raymond Wood. Anthony de Silva. Joshua. Nathan. Ian. Parker. Ben.

Max suddenly feels bile rise up his throat and slams the file shut. He scrunches up his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. His skin his freezing and his insides are on fire.

To their credit, no one tries to talk to him.

When the world stops feeling like it’s tilting beneath his feet, he opens his eyes slowly but keeps them trained on the table. The nausea still lingers on the back of his throat.

“I don’t think this method is going to work,” he says, pushing the file away like it’s cursed.

It felt more like choosing a sperm donor than a possible life partner and that’s a thought Max doesn’t even want to entertain.

When he looks up, he is relieved to not see any angry frowns or frustrated scowls. Instead, he’s met with three equal looks of sympathy. The calming alpha scents filling the room makes the burn in his guts and the cold on his skin dissipate.

“That’s completely fine, Max.” Laurent takes the file and puts it on the chair beside him, away from view. “We can try something else.”

When he gives an uncertain whimper in response, GP reaches out and puts his hand comfortingly over Max’s. It’s something he always does when Max shows the slightest hint of discomfort. The familiarity of the warmth puts him at ease.

“Max, I know you feel backed into a corner right now,” his race engineer says, “but you have the freedom to choose. You're not lacking in options. You can be picky. You can set boundaries, decide what you want and don’t want.”

He trails the fingers of his free hand over the patterns on the table’s wooden surface. 'Freedom to choose' feels like a poor word choice to him but he doesn't say that. 'Freedom to choose: T&C Apply' maybe.

“How about this?” Rupert speaks up when he sees that Max is struggling to form words. “You tell us what type of alpha you would like, and we’ll find a few good men like that. Just a handful. You can go on one date with them each, talk, enjoy some time together, and then you can choose. If you don’t like any of them, we’ll go again. I’ll ask the team to make a schedule in between the races so that you have plenty of time to decide as well.”

Having only a few options certainly sounds less dehumanizing than the file. And going on dates might help him to actually like one of them. Afterall, he’s going to need to know more than height and job to pick a mate.

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “That sounds good.”

It’s not ideal. It certainly doesn’t relieve any of the stress hovering over him like a personal raincloud. But it’s a start.

“Alright then,” GP says, giving Max’s hand one final squeeze before letting go. “Tell us what you want. Take your time if you need to, of course.”

He doesn’t really need to think about it. He’s always known, instinctively or subconsciously, what he wants. With each alpha he’s rejected, he’s added more points to mental lists of ‘yes, please’ and ‘fuck, no’. Despite not wanting to mate, it has been nice to know he's not completely clueless in the area. Just in case. Like for now.

“I don’t care about looks,” he says simply because he doesn’t. Just as he said to Laurent earlier, he’s never had a ‘type’ the way other omegas make a huge deal about having. He knows he’s not the prettiest omega out there so he’s not looking for the best-looking alpha either. If he sometimes appreciates the alphas the service agency sends over for his heats, well that's an exemption.

“And I don’t care about money either, but they shouldn’t expect to get control over my assets. If we marry, I want a prenup.”

Thankfully, due to recent laws, a mating bond alone no longer gives alphas a right to their omega’s assets. If it did, Max would be much more stressed right now. He won’t pretend to be a saint who doesn’t care about money, but it’s more about the risk of potential power imbalance and control. He'd rather throw away every single penny he's ever earned into the ocean before letting an alpha hold it over his head like a guillotine.

Laurent types away on his phone, clearly taking notes on what to look for. Then he looks up at Max expectantly.

“And I…” Max clears his throat. “They shouldn’t be a fan of mine.” The moment he says it, he realises how it sounds and rushes to clarify: “I mean, not that I don’t love my fans, I do. But if I have to mate someone, I would like it if they saw beyond the driver in me.”

Laurent smiles, telling him know that he doesn’t need to explain further.

“What else?” he asks.

“I’d also appreciate it if they don’t ask me to compromise my racing lifestyle to fit into a more… omega one.” The last thing he wants is an alpha demanding he play housewife. “I will obviously commit to the bond and maintain it as best I can, but I won’t be like other omegas, and they have to know that. They have to be fine with it.”

“Fair,” Rupert says from across the table, a knowing glow in his eyes. He’s the one Max spends most of his working hours with, so the Red Bull trainer has seen how magazines tend to write pages upon pages of ‘Max Verstappen; Rouge Omega?’. He knows Max hates it, feels alienated by it, but also that he has no option but to stray from omega norms to keep up with the sport.

“Anything else?” Laurent asks.

Max shakes his head. “No, I think that’s about it. I know it’s a lot to ask for and it’s okay if you can’t find anyone.” It’s not really okay, but he doesn’t want to hold others responsible for something he should technically be doing.

“Max,” GP says in that tone he uses to mean ‘stop being ridiculous’, “you’re not asking for a lot. We’ll make it happen. All I want you to focus on from now on is preparing for the new season.”

“I’ll have the arrangements made as soon as possible,” Laurent reassures, pocketing his phone. “And the media team will put out an early statement before the first race, saying you’d rather not discuss personal matters during work interviews. That should keep the intruding questions at bay.”

Max thinks that’s a too kind view of the media but he doesn’t say anything. A media circus is inevitable. He’s taught himself to be fine with it now.

Eventually, the other three men decide to take their leave. GP hugs him and tells Max he can call whenever. Laurent pats him on the shoulder, still looking extremely guilt-ridden, and scratches Sassy behind the ear before following GP out the door.

Rupert is behind them, and Max is about to say good night and shut the door when Rupert turns back around. He has a look on his face that Max has only seen a couple of times. Once when he got a stress-induced heat and was fighting to recover quick enough to not miss a grand prix. And another time when Max had got drunk and cried for a good hour to both Rupert and GP about how sometimes he just felt like he wasn’t enough.

It's a comforting look that’s meant to say, “I understand what you’re going through an I want to help.”

“You know this doesn’t change anything right?” Rupert asks him, his eyes soft and voice softer.

Max wants to say that it changes everything. That nothing will ever be the same. But he knows what Rupert is saying.

“You’ll still race at Red Bull. Always. This won’t change anything about the way you race, the way the team works or how you’re the greatest driver on the grid.”

Racing has always been the one constant in his life, and it’s comforting to know, to have someone else’s confirmation, that it’ll continue to be so, no matter how much the storm around it rages.

“Thank you,” he mumbles as Jimmy brushes against his ankles, coming to stare up at Rupert. Visitors always intrigued him.

“Oh, and by the way,” Rupert leans forward like he’s about to voice state secrets, “don’t think I missed the discarded pizza box.” When he leans back, there’s a mischievous smile on his face.

Max groans, though he feels a smile forming on his own lips.

And that’s an extra hour of cardio, he thinks.

Notes:

Not lestappen favourism! Everyone gets their own time with Max!

The next update date depends entirely on what happens this sunday and how my nervous system reacts to it... i'm sorry :')

Notes:

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