chatting to my invisible friends

This is something Daniel does now! He dates men.

It’s been mostly theoretical until now, but he’s done the work and paid for the therapy, and said ‘I’m bisexual, actually’ to someone he had only just met. It’s kinda big, but it was all just in Daniel’s head and his journal and his silly dreaming heart until Josh Allen rocked up and all… Josh. Interested and funny and good.

He reminds Daniel of himself, sometimes. The parts of him that value trust and loyalty above everything, the parts that would never hesitate to help out a friend, no matter what the cost. The parts that reawaken when he touched down on the tarmac in Perth, and he remembers what really matters.

These days, there’s many more parts to Daniel than that. He’s seen a lot. He’s been fucked over. He’s fucked other people over. He can’t stop himself being smart; smarter than he wants to be. 

Is it stupid that Daniel wants to protect Josh, when the guy is literally double his size? 

Maybe they could make a deal - Josh protects Daniel from dogs and high shelves, and Daniel will try and pass on a little bit of what he’s learnt over the journey. He’ll try to keep Josh from falling into the same traps Daniel did, when you suddenly get new friends every time you get a bigger contract.

They go on their date in California, when their calendars finally line up.

Daniel has been wondering if he was allowed to start sexting before they saw each other in person, or if he was meant to wait until after the date. Usually he’d just fire off a casual ‘hey, are you around?’ to whoever he was hooking up with, a few minutes before he pre-bed jerk off session and see what came of it, but they were going on a date so. He didn’t do that. Got himself off alone with his eyes closed and the hand not working his dick touching experimentally between his legs. 

The date is mini-golf and dinner. Josh hires out the whole golf place and it’s awkward for a few beats at the start, because they know each other already. They’ve always had a special thing; they’ve road tripped and Facetimed and talked about all their deepest, darkest shit, but somehow now Daniel is worried Josh isn’t going to be into him after all.

It’s stilted until Josh hits his head on a painted styrofoam cave in the Flintstones-themed hole, pauses, and then asks, “This is okay? I didn’t know if. I thought this would be fun, but we can do something else. Go to a club or…”

He rubs his head, and the mini-golf club looks comically small in his giant hands. It sounds like he’s just as nervous as Daniel.

“Nah,” smiles Daniel, and he fucking goes for it, stepping in and going up on his toes to press their lips together. His head nearly spins, his hands wanting to reach for more contact. A whole new world of Josh-shaped possibilities spilling into his head. “This is the best.”

At the end of the night, after dinner in a private room of a fancy place that hadn’t felt like it suited either of them, Josh drives them home. Daniel is trying to work out they’re going to fuck.

He has done all the stuff he needs to do in order to fuck, just in case Josh wants to. There is lube and a condom in his wallet; he’s a responsible date. 

He isn’t sure… if it's up to him? Usually he would try to be a gentleman, whatever the fuck that means in this situation. Josh is younger and maybe hasn’t done as much casual fucking around as Daniel, even though he’s a football player, and they’ve never actually clarified if either of them have been with a guy before.

Daniel isn’t even sure if he wants to fuck. Like, he absolutely does, but he is tired and giddy, and the idea of a hot shower and mentally reliving every time Josh laughed at one of his jokes sounds pretty good too.

But if Josh wants to, Daniel will take his clothes off in a second. He’s wearing his favourite orange boxers.

“Five star service,” smiles Daniel, when they pull up in front of his LA place. His thumb is rubbing back and forth over the ridge of his knee, over the soft material of the fancy Hugo Boss chinos he’s wearing. “How much do I owe you?”

“I’d settle for a kiss, and maybe throw in another one as a tip,” smiles Josh, and it’s so basic. It’s a married couple joke, a Dad joke. Daniel can’t get his seatbelt off fast enough, having to twist and get up on one knee to kiss Josh the way he wants to, with a hand cradling his strong jaw. 

He’s so big, warm and solid, and he doesn’t think Daniel’s lame for being obsessed with him. 

“I got you something,” says Josh, and his eyes dart away from Daniel’s. His knee jumps a little, Daniel can feel it where he’s leaning against Josh’s body.

“Yeah?” replies Daniel, feeling his lips curling up. The idea that Josh thought about him in advance, that he’s planned this and has been waiting for this moment… obviously, Josh knows how to do first dates right. Daniel’s heart is big in his chest, and he indulges himself letting his hand slide down to stroke Josh’s neck. 

He feels like he’ll need a solid weekend of just exploring Josh’s body, once they finally get their clothes off. He wants to see all of it, to touch it. He wants to hear the noises Josh makes when Daniel makes him feel good. He wants to know what it's like to be with someone who can hold him down.

“Yeah,” nods Josh, and then he’s gently leaning around Daniel, but he’s so big that Daniel needs to push himself back against his seat, and is stuck watching the thick lines of Josh’s shoulders and arm as he fumbles with the glovebox.

God, is Daniel dating this guy? Is he dating the sweet quarterback who brings him gifts? How did his wild Friday Night Lights dreams become a reality?

“So, y’know we’ve been building the farm, and we’ve just got the first crop,” explains Josh, and his hands are so large that Daniel can’t see what he’s holding in them, until a small package is being offered to him.

He automatically takes it, and the clear plastic is warm. Josh must be sweating. It’s got a little green ribbon around the top, and…

They’re pistachios.

“I picked them myself,” says Josh, with a little shrug and a proud smile. He’s excited about the farm, the one he’s started with his Dad. He had told Daniel about it, explained that the trees take a few years to produce nuts. He’s been waiting a long time for the first harvest.

At the time, Daniel had thought about making a joke that Josh was growing a farm designed to murder him, but they hadn’t known each other that well.

“Wow, that’s really cool,” croaks out Daniel, and he knows his voice doesn’t sound quite right. He reflexively closes his fingers around the small bag and the plastic makes a crinkling sound in the quiet car.

He can see the way Josh flinches, and Daniel’s heart shrivels in sympathy. Daniel can’t hide when he’s upset either.

“But like, just a dumb thing, bro,” says Josh and suddenly he’s talking like Danel is on his football team. “Josh’s nuts, y’know? Thought it would make you laugh. Don’t want you to think I’m a cheap date, obviously just a gag gift.”

“No, I, um,” swallows Daniel, and his fingers are tight around the nuts. He won’t let Josh take them back. Josh picked them for him. He probably gave Daniel the best ones. “I’m allergic. Fuck. But I love them. I swear I really love them, I’ll fuckin’ frame them, I’ll jerk off to them, but just not, like, eat them. I’m sorry. They look like great nuts.”

Josh blinks at him, then huffs out a laugh. He rubs the back of his head, bicep obscenely shaped. 

“God, Danny. I thought you hated them, thought I was some dumb idiot. Giving you nuts on a first date.”

“I promise I seriously considered eating some,” admits Daniel, and he straightens the green bow carefully. “And hoping I could get to an epipen before you noticed.”

“Nah, don’t do that, need you in one piece,” and Josh is smiling again, reaching out to stroke Daniel’s fingers where they’re holding the pistachios. His rose stands out. “You’ve never told me you’re allergic.”

Daniel squeezes Josh’s fat fingertip. It’s embarrassingly erotic. He wants it inside him.

“I was saving it for the second date,” he smiles, face stretching with it. “Gotta keep some of the mystery alive and all that.”

“Second date, I like the sound of that,” replies Josh. Now they’re just smiling at each other, fingertips touching.

“Are you free tomorrow?” says Daniel, and doesn’t break eye contact, even when he feels like he can’t breathe. Josh is staring at him and not looking away, and he can see everything Daniel rarely stays still long enough to show people.

"You bet."

Another kiss later, Daniel is walking across the road to his front gate, a dumb grin still on his face. He’s flushed all over.

He turns to wave, and Josh has rolled the window of his truck down, head poking out.

“I’m allergic to bee stings,” calls Josh.

“Really?” Daniel says back loudly. “Okay, noted. Locked in. I won’t buy you any bees. Thanks for the heads up.”

Daniel considered Max a born racer, a strong competitor, and vicious little fuck when he was inside the car. 

The media and people around the Paddock had other adjectives for Max. 

Pretty. Beautiful. Strong, but said like that was a surprise. 

There was discussion about his perfect pale skin, his blue eyes, and it made Daniel feel kinda uncomfortable. And it wasn’t just because Max clearly had no interest in this type of attention, but it was also because… Daniel didn’t. Have those things.

He’d always been kinda scrawny for an Omega. Small and bony - and although his ass was always fighting against his meal plan - Daniel wasn’t soft and pale.

He was just Daniel, loud and not pretty. 

And as Max grew up in front of the hungry cameras, filling out his thighs and his chest, it was more and more apparent that Max wasn’t just a better (or luckier, depending how deluded Daniel was feeling at the time) driver than Daniel, but he was also a more desirable Omega. 

It wasn’t a competition, except unfortunately everything was a competition in Formula One. This was just another one that Daniel was losing.

He started watching Max a lot more. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be him, or…. or something else, but Daniel was quickly becoming an expert on all the ways Max Verstappen was hotter than him.

The list was mostly self explanatory. Obviously there was Daniel’s nose, something he would pretend to love with so much confidence that nobody would ever doubt him. His bushy eyebrows, the now-fixed bad teeth he had taught himself to smile around. The way he had more body hair than a good Omega should. And his flat chest, where most male Omegas had a nice amount of softness to grab at.

(Once, when Jenson was fucking him and nosing around his nipples, Daniel had blurted out ‘sorry’. They hadn’t talked about it.)

It wasn’t like Daniel didn’t believe he was attractive by regular standards and able to provide a good time, and plenty of people were lining up to get into his bed, but somehow even that was a way Max was better than him.

Because Max didn’t do that. Didn’t flirt with cameraman and wear gold chains, and flash his skin around the way Daniel did. It seemed to make people everywhere even more obsessed with how fuckable Max was, simply because held himself back. The less he asked for it, the more people seemed to want to give it to him.

It was driving Daniel a bit mad. He didn’t know when Max had wormed himself so deeply into Daniel’s sense of self-worth; it was probably somewhere between stealing Daniel’s team out from under him and being called ‘Formula One’s Golden Omega’ by every news outlet on the planet.

People hounded Max with questions about his private life, but he refused to answer. His pretty blue eyes were like ice.

(When Daniel poked and prodded, when it was just the two of them, Max shrugged. He replied there was nothing to tell. Sometimes he dated people, but not very often and it wasn’t serious. He didn’t need that kind of attention. It was too complicated. He just wanted to race.)

In contrast, nobody asked Daniel about when he was going to find a mate.

After over a decade, the media didn’t bother - they asked about who he was ‘hanging out with’ aka fucking, they asked about his money and his houses and parties. It had been nearly five years since anyone had raised the question of whether Daniel wanted a family someday. The answer seemed clear enough.

Daniel probably did some stupid things in his Max-induced insanity.

He left RedBull for a start, because being second driver on top of looking old and wrinkled at Max’s side was an unendurable scenario. Cyril was a beta, but he clearly wanted to eat Daniel up, and his stupid ego was starving for the attention. The black looked sexy on him, and it was embarrassing how much Daniel enjoyed being reminded of that over and over. 

He felt… coveted again. Not lost in Max’s orbit, crushed under his gravity. 

The list of dumb things Daniel did continued: changing teams (again), fucking around more until suddenly he never wanted to have sex again, watching Max get more beautiful and happy, watching his own hair thin and his sharp edges grow.

Finally - finally - at the end of it all, Daniel gave up. He waved the white flag in his head. It was a relief. He couldn’t be a perfect Omega the way Max was, he couldn’t be the driver McLaren needed, he couldn't make up all the missed time to his family, he would never have a mate or pups.

He was just Daniel, unemployed and imperfect.

When he asked Christian for a job, the burn of embarrassment felt distant. He had stopped pretending that he had everything under control, that he had faith in himself. There was a strange freedom in being depressed but honest about it.

“Sweetheart,” Christian had called him, all Alpha, all warmth and concern. He spoke to Daniel like he was something precious they were happy to have back, and perhaps it was all part of the same sick system that talked about Max as a teenage sex symbol, but Daniel folded into the offered tenderness.

He let Christian scent him, stroke his limp hair. He didn’t try to hide his desperation.

Daniel approached his new position at RedBull with more thought than any job he had taken before. He had decided that rather than being preoccupied with his own bullshit, he would focus more on supporting Max (and, he supposed theoretically Checo). He was older now and he knew that any competition with Max was well and truly over; Daniel could be the mature, not-as-hot friend. 

Perhaps Daniel spending half his life fucking around and fucking up could save Max from the same path.

Perhaps he dreamed about Max needing him, in some way. In any way.

“I think you could put Maxy here on a calender, something tasteful but flashing some thigh,” joked Daniel in a marketing meeting, shooting Max a conspiratorial smile, even as he spoke to everyone. “Although I don’t think you’d be able to keep up with the demand.”

Max didn’t smile back. His face stayed blank. Maybe he didn’t understand? Or maybe he was so used to the attention that he didn’t find it funny.

After the meeting, Daniel had almost forgotten the moment, until Max grabbed his elbow and held Daniel back as everyone else left. Christian glanced between them, but didn’t ask before exiting and closing the door.

“I would prefer you don’t make fun of me like that,” said Max, terrifyingly direct as always. His cheeks had a flush across them. 

“Make fun of you?” replied Daniel, eyes darting around Max’s face. His brain never worked faster than when he realised he’d made someone unhappy. “That definitely wasn’t my intention.”

“I know,” began Max, and he paused. Swallowed and then began talking again, his voice sharp. “I know that of course I am not so beautiful and nice like you, but I don’t care about all those Omega things. It isn’t very nice for you to make a joke of me, to the team and Christian, because of the way I look.”

“Um,” blinked Daniel, wide eyed as his thoughts collapsed into a confused lump. “Um, what, no. That wasn’t a joke - well, like I guess it was kinda - but, no, I was only saying it because you’re hot and people would actually probably literally fall over themselves to get a look at your knee, or whatever. You get that, right? I was… I thought it was obvious.”

“Hot,” repeated Max back at him, like he was trying out a new language. “You are joking now, again.”

“Max, I’m not joking,” snapped Daniel, because what the fuck. “You’re like the hottest fucking Omega in professional sport, let alone Formula One, are you actually fucking with me right now? Because, I mean, come on.”

Daniel waved an aggressive arm towards Max’s body, trying to encapsulate all the lush perfection of him, the madness-inducing details that had stripped Daniel down to a near breakdown over the last seven years.  

Max narrowed his eyes, plainly confused.

“You don’t think I’m hot,” he said. Like it was a fact that couldn’t be disputed.

“Do I need to write it on a forehead or get it tattooed or something?” replied Daniel, and he had to laugh a bit at how insane this conversation was. “You’re the perfect Omega, from head to toe.”

“But,” replied Max, his face creasing in confusion, “I do not look like you at all.”

They stared at each other, with very little understanding passing between them. 

“No, because I’m old and Australian,” said Daniel eventually, and usually he was better at reading people. Better at reading Max.

“Yes Daniel, but you’re of course how Omegas should be.” Max, once again, sounded completely certain of his statement.

“Not really,” shrugged Daniel, and he fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest, to hide the bony flatness of him. He had been trying to eat more this year, to not count his calories, but it was such a hard habit to break-

“Daniel,” and now Max was the one laughing. “You must of course be joking, you are… you are so lovely and you make everyone so happy always, while I” - Max paused, shrugging and smiling mischievously - “I do not, so much.”

“Hey, you make people happy-” Daniel cut in, slightly horrified at the way this conversation was going. It was too much for his brain. Max waved his words away. 

“Yes, but not like you do, with strangers and stupid idiots. Do you really not see that you are like this? It is so obvious, Daniel, and you are not usually so stupid.”

“That’s debatable,” mumbled Daniel, and he ran a compulsive hand through his curls, griping at them anxiously. “But in reality, you’re all… all pretty and your mouth is super hot and your thighs are… I dunno, I don’t want to sound like a creep, but I think if you look up Omega Pornhub, the guys look like you.”

Max laughed again.

“Oh my God, Daniel, you must be drunk or something right now, you cannot be serious, I have been thinking about your thighs when I am having alone time for years and I am sure I am of course not the only one.”

“Alone time,” choked Daniel. He couldn’t form any other words. Max thought about him. Max thought about Daniel when he-

“Yes, alone time,” grinned Max, then he shook his head in apparent bewilderment, “although if you think I am so hot, then maybe I don’t have to be alone…”

He stepped forward and kissed Daniel, a little clumsy, but it was all the invitation Daniel needed to grab him and push their lips together harder.

When his brain eventually returned from spinning in crazy circles around the sun, Daniel was going to pin Max down and show him that every single inch of him was beautiful. 

Then, finally, eventually, Christian hung up and Max could focus again on the task in front of him.

It was Daniel's ass. Nicely presented, as Max sat comfortably against the headboard with soft hotel pillow stacked behind him, his own thighs spread to make room for Daniel between them.

Max's chest was rising and falling fast, but he had managed to keep his voice steady on the phone.

Sunshine was pouring through the window, revealing the beautiful morning outside. Safe behind the glass, the room was mostly silent. The shuffle of cotton sheets, bodies moving on an old mattress, the low whir of the mini-fridge. The sounds spilling out of Daniel's mouth.

Max's hands were busy. Daniel was on his tummy facing the end of the bed, legs parted around Max's hips; his dick, balls and hole laid bare for Max's enjoyment.

The inked skin of Daniel's biceps were folded under his head, and he was looking back at where Max sitting up on the bed behind him. His eyes were syrupy, heavy, barely focused. Max had been playing with him for a while.

Blunt fingers nails ran down Daniel's spine, and that alone made him shift and adam's apple bob as he swallowed. There was only a tease of pressure of Daniel's dick, the tip of it scraping against the sheets. It had left a wet patch, dribbling steadily.

"Finally, he gets off the phone," smiled Max, and he went back to rubbing circles around Daniel's spread hole. Unlike the start of the their relationship, Daniel didn't wax anymore - the pink ring was surrounded by tight dark curls, and Max loved them as much as the ones on Daniel's head.

He stroked a few times, watching Daniel's hole visibly clench, demanding and impatient. It looked well fucked; an ass that had taken a dick regularly over many years. If Max could, he'd lean down to give it a kiss, to slide his tongue inside and feel it flutter, to try to kiss back.

His hands moved inside lower, to where Daniel's ballsack was heavy and tight. He tugged at it, feeling Daniel groan and twitch, letting his fingernails dig into the loose skin and pull. It was delicate and hot against his fingertips.

The corded muscles in Daniel's thighs twitched, damp with sweet against Max's own. They were a perfect contrast; smooth against hairy, colour against white, lean against thick.

"Happy to have me back?" murmured Daniel, half-smiling, lost somewhere between over and under-stimuation. His beard was dark against the white sheets and Max smiled in return as he reached down to wrap his hand around the veiny thickness of Daniel's dick.

"It's not so bad," replied Max, and he began to stroke Daniel slowly, watching fixated at his balls wobbled and his asshole tightened. Perhaps it was strange, to enjoy watching Daniel's body like this, but Max loved it. He wanted to know every inch of him. He wanted Daniel spread out in front of him, to be touched and stroked and squeezed to his heart's content.

"Oh." Daniel was pressing his face into the sheets as he rocked into Max's hand in slow movements. Milking his dick in the tight circle of Max's fingers.

Between Max's legs, his own cock was fat and leaking. He was torturing himself a little bit not touching it, trying to prove how long he could resist when Daniel was spread barely inches away.

With small grunts, Daniel kept fucking forwards, his ass exposed for Max to stare at while Daniel's hips worked.

After a minute, Max slid his hand up Daniel's slick thigh and gave Daniel's asscheek a smack with his free hand. The sound was loud in the quiet air, and Daniel whimpered, eyes squeezing more tightly shut. Max's felt Daniel's heavy dick twitch in his grip.

Just, he wanted to. He wanted to lean down a bite. He wanted to claw at Daniel's sides until they were red, it wanted to push his fingers into his mouth, his hole. To push his nail against the slit of his dick and try to get inside there too. He wanted this sight to be burned inside his eyelids to every time he closed his eyes, this was what he would see.

Max had just pressed his thumb against the inviting circle of Daniel's hole when his phone rang again on the mattress beside him.

You didn't ignore calls from Helmut Marko.

"Hello," said Max, connecting the call and putting it on speaker.

Daniel had the blanket between his teeth, muffling himself, but he hadn't stopped thrusting into Max's fist. He didn't stop when Max leaned forward to let a line of spit drip from his own mouth onto Daniel's eager, upturned hole.

Picking up some fresh cans - and they already had twelve in the fridge, but Max liked to be sure he would never run out - he began to search for Daniel by glancing down each fluorescent-lit aisle.

It was over forty degrees outside and Max’s cheeks had been pink for days. After the sun had dropped low the night before, they had lounged around in the pool for hours, naked and splashing each other and drinking cocktails that Daniel was sloppily inventing on the fly. 

Today, Max was hot and hungover and happy. 

He spotted Daniel down the end of the breakfast food aisle, in a black tank and bare feet (and Max was still shocked that Daniel didn’t put shoes on to come to the shops, it was very strange to him). 

Daniel was talking to someone, but that didn’t surprise Max. Everyone seemed to know him, or know his sister or his cousin, or to be friends with his hairdresser. They spent a lot of time talking to people wherever they went out, and Max could tell sometimes that Daniel wished it would stop.

Max approached Daniel, and the slim woman and the two children with her. The RedBull was icy against his forearm, the condensation making the hair stick to his skin.

“Hey mate,” Daniel said to one of the children, holding out his closed fist. The boy pumped it cautiously.

“They don’t know who you are,” said the woman, and she hadn’t looked at Max yet. “We watch the soccer, and Andy’s very into basketball.”

She didn’t sound friendly, not like people usually did. Max’s back straightened a little, his eyes darting between Daniel’s neutral smile and this woman who was talking to Daniel in a tone Max couldn't quite understand. Everyone loved Daniel in Western Australia.

“Yeah, ‘course,” nodded Daniel. “And congrats. Mum said the wedding all looked really nice, Busso is great that time of year.”

Daniel also sounded strange. It wasn’t his fake PR voice, the one he saved for people who didn’t know him, but he didn’t sound normal. Max shifted a little, adjusting the cold cans and not knowing why Daniel wasn't smiling.

“I thought about inviting them, but I thought it might be awkward, after everything,” said the woman. She sighed, and adjusted the toddler on her hip; the child was holding an onion in two small hands. “When are you heading back to Monaco?”

She said Monaco like someone who had been there, someone who knew the paved streets and angle of the sun.

“Dunno, couple of weeks yet,” shrugged Daniel. They were staring at each other.

The older boy, with dark hair and features, looked past Daniel and his eyes landed on Max. He stared for a second or two-

“Are you Max Verstappen?” he said, eyes growing in size, a perfect picture of shock.

And then the woman looked at Max, wrenching her eyes away from the silent communication with Daniel, and Max wasn’t sure why her scrutiny felt more invasive than a hundred reports with cameras.

“Ah, yes, I am,” smiled Max, and he crouched down. He offered his hand and the boy shook it. “It is nice to meet you.”

“You’re my favourite driver,” said the boy. “Did you drive your RedBull here? Is it really fast? Where did you park it?”

“No, I had to leave my RedBull at home,” replied Max with a smile, and then he waved the cans a little. “There is no room for the shopping, unfortunately.”

The boy giggled in delight and Max glanced up at Daniel to see his reaction to the joke. 

His eyes were shining, and Max smiled wider in response.

“Jems, this is Max,” he said, turning back to the woman. “He’s here for Christmas. Max, this is Jemma.”

As Max stood, he nodded a little stiffly, unable to stop himself taking a step in closer to Daniel’s side. 

Jemma. Daniel’s high-school sweetheart, lived in his Monaco apartment, his first love Jemma.

“Hello,” said Max, and he had to remind himself that he had nothing to worry about, to push away the uncomfortable sensation crawling up his spine.

It was hard not to think of all the things she had been for Daniel, all the memories of him that she had that Max could never steal away.

It was hard not to think about all the things they had in common: they had both watched Daniel drool on long-haul flights, they had both sucked his dick, they had both thought they were going to marry him.

“Hey,” said Jemma, with a little nod. She was assessing him. Max’s stared stoically back.

Then Max felt an brush against his waist, and Daniel’s arm settled solid and potent around him. Jemma glanced down to look at it, and then between the two of them.

Max could tell Daniel wasn’t breathing beside him.

“Right,” she said, and then she gave a little snort, something that seemed to surprise her as much as both of them. “Right. We had this chat Dan, do you remember that? I’m pretty sure the exact words you used were-”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” said Daniel, but his voice had softened, he was on the edge of laughing. Max relaxed too, comforted by the thumb stroking below his ribs, his place next to Daniel secure and confirmed. “You were right, I was wrong, I can admit it.”

“Clearly you're admitting it, given, well,” she nodded at Max, just as her son came to tuck himself behind her leg and Jemma stroked his hair. “Good to know I wasn’t just crazy, I guess.”

“You’re not crazy, Jems,” said Daniel gently, and there was the ghost of something in his voice.

“Just lacking the required equipment,” she replied, shaking her head, and she couldn’t look at Max suddenly. Her dark hair fell over her face as he began to turn away. “Say hi to your mum for me, Dan.”

“I will,” replied Daniel. His hand was still stroking Max’s back. They both watched the small family walk away.

“Holy shit,” mumbled Daniel, and his voice was a bit shaky. Max wanted to fold him into a hug, but it wasn’t the place for that.

They went through the motions of paying, and Daniel was silent and flicking at his cuticles, hovering in near Max side even as he pulled his wallet out to pay.

Outside, the smack of summer heat was a welcome change and Max hadn't realised there had been goosebumps on his forearms.

"She is very pretty," said Max, because he wasn't sure what to say.

"I do like 'em pretty," replied Daniel, with cheeky look, spinning the car keys around his index finger. "I haven't seen her in so long, it's... it's trippy, just realising she's been out there this whole time, doing things."

"You could have," Max started, but then he didn't know where to go. They were an open-secret, but still a secret. "You didn't have to tell her, about us. I would have of course understood, if you-"

Daniel's hand was tight around his wrist, and Max used it to drag him closer, until their lips were brushing. They were standing between a Toyota Hulix and a beat-up Ford Falcon, and Daniel was kissing him harder. It was the first time Daniel had ever kissed him in public.

"I'm not ashamed," said Daniel, bumping their noses together, and Max happily let himself be nuzzled. "I should be screaming from the rooftops that Max Verstappen lets me eat his ass, I'm pretty sure it's my greatest achievement."

"Ah, no, please do not scream that from anywhere," giggled Max, and slung an arm around Daniel, guiding him towards the car. "That would be terrible PR, and you know I don't want to have to do media interviews explaining your ass eating comments, it would honestly be very boring."

They kissed again against the side of Daniel's ute, the shopping perched on the roof as they made out and the sunlight beat down, making the metal of the car hot and Max's neck was getting flushed.

"You love me more than you loved her?" asked Max, aware that it was probably not polite to ask, but he didn't care. It would take him days to chase the images of Daniel slotted against that woman out of his head.

"Definitely," replied Daniel, tugging Max closer. "And you fuck me better than her, too."

With a final kiss, Daniel unlocked the car and they climbed inside. Max turned the aircon onto to full, while Daniel connected his music.

"Oh, remind me to swing past the bottle shop and grab some tequila, I'm giving tonight's pool cocktails a Mexican theme," said Daniel, wiggling his eyebrows as to stretched forwards to see if there were any cars coming.

"Daniel, we need to stop and some tequila-" Max mimicked, laughing when Daniel smacked him on the thigh.

"Fuckin' menace," grinned Daniel, but then his smiled softened, even though his eyes were still on the road. "My favourite fuckin' menace."

He reached over, and Max linked their fingers, squeezing as Daniel pulled out onto the road.