Formula One - One-shots

You and Me (always forever)||M.Verstappen

Driver: Max Verstappen

Warnings: Fluff, pure fluff, mentions of abuse

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Max was so dead.

He was going to be in so much trouble if his father caught him. But that threat has never stopped him before, it certainly won't start tonight.

He knew better than this, better than sneaking out before a race, but he had seen her. She was on the makeshift paddock earlier, standing with her helmet tucked right beneath her arm. The practice for that day had gone well, he'd lost out to p1 by merely hundredths of a second, but of course, that was never good enough.

Jos had torn into him. Berating him in their garage, swearing and pushing at his shoulders. Max didn't want to cry, he didn't want to scream, he just wanted to hide. He hated when his dad screamed at him, especially when he did it infront of everyone. When he did it infront of her.

She found him after his father stormed off, Jos demanding that he clean up the mess on his own. There was a worried look in her eye, face red with anger. It was cute and it made Max burst into laughter.

"He shouldn't speak to you like that," She said, crossing her arms in front of her and glaring at the direction in which his father left, "It's wrong."

"He's my dad," Max tried explaining to her that it was just the way things were. His dad didn't hate him, Jos was trying to make him better, stronger. He was the son of a Formula one driver, Max couldn't embarrass him.

"Exactly," She stepped closer to him, throwing her hands in the air, "You're his son!"

With a roll of his eyes, Max turned away to begin disassembling his kart. If he didn't get started now, he'd be here until sundown. She was silent for a long while, standing at the opening of their garage, just watching him collect the tools and roll the tires away, until she let out a loud groan.

"You don't have to help," Max reminded her, but it never made a difference.

She began to wipe down the tool box, smoothing out the paint of his kart. He'd nearly lost himself on turn five and it caused a rock to crack at the side of his kart, the thought made his face burn. He hated making mistakes, he hated it when he wasn't able to perform the way he wanted - the way he should.

His father demanded perfection, but it was more than that. Max knew he could achieve it. He knew that he was special and he hated when he let childish mistakes hold him back from that. He was only 9, but that didn't mean a thing. He needed to be ready. He needed -

"Will you meet me under the track?"

He nearly dropped the rags in his hands, "Tonight?"

"No!" She mocked, "Tomorrow. Yes, tonight."

They'd been meeting there since they were six. It was a little ditch right underneath a part of the track. The grass was smooth and at this time, it was filled with dandelions. It was their place, their space away from everyone else. It was just for them.

"Yeah," He muttered, "Yeah, okay."

"Good," She turned to him, tossing him a wrench, "See you then."

It's how he was there now, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking around. He always waited for his father to fall asleep before slipping out of the motorhome, Jos never woke up - far too a heavy sleeper - but it still made his stomach curl with anxiety.

Max shivered in the night wind, the calm roll of the air blowing past him. The blades of grass danced in the moonlight, with the dandelions nearly glowing as bright as the stars. It was beautiful here. Just him and the sky.