You became a father last year. I did too, in September. You're having a special first child. Everyone always says that. It changes a lot in your life. Yes, but it is true, isn't it? How has that changed you? Because for me, it has had a gigantic impact on my life.
Max: Yes, I already had a stepdaughter, of course. And that was from her first year, so to speak. Yes. So I’ve already experienced a lot, so to speak. And because of that, I think it was, so to speak, less shocking. Because ultimately, in our family, in our daily life, nothing really changed. (...) Of course, the very first for me. But yes, in terms of daily life and how we did things, so to speak, that was already the case now. Yes, you furnished an extra room for her. And of course, that first year of life is perhaps a bit harder to sleep in. And a bit more complicated. But generally speaking, it went pretty smoothly.
Maybe it isn't incredibly hard on a weekend like that? You were away for eight days last month, and that gets worse and worse, doesn't it?
Max: Yes, fortunately, you can FaceTime, of course. But for example, you sometimes get videos. And I have my own room now where I keep, let's say, my cups and helmets and my simulators. And she already knows that that is my room. So every time she goes there now, because she can walk now and she opens that door. And then it's like, 'Papa, papa.' But yeah, he's not there, of course. And then I get that video forwarded to me. Then you do think…
It breaks your heart a little bit?
Max: Yeah, then you do think, 'Shit. Yeah, do something.' Yeah, that is a bit less nice to see, of course. Then you naturally always try to get back home as quickly as possible.
Do you both have that, by the way? Maybe a question for you both. I want my children to race. You don't have any yet. You (Max) have a daughter now. Would you like that?
Max: I always say no. I hope they don't do it. But on the other hand, you know, if you then.. well, boy or girl, it doesn't matter. But when you see that they are doing everything they can. To make it a success. You see, of course… First of all, they need to have talent. If they don't have talent, (...) Then you might as well stop immediately. And I think I would always be reasonably clear about that. You do have to be honest… I think that is, of course, quite difficult as parents. To be honest with your own child. But you just have to assess it clearly. But if she were to have talent, and she works hard enough for it, for example. Then… Yes, why not? Then you’re not going to hold her back either. And on the other hand, I just hope she chooses something she naturally enjoys. Naturally, you support her fully in that.
2.4k of tulip verse! rico isn't physically present in this fic but he's definitely still present.
max/virgil, referenced rico/virgil/max, biting as a grounding technique, hints to some really questionable coping mechanisms, no sex but still intimacy.
"You look happy."
Virgil lifts his head from his palms at Max's voice. He's standing in the doorway, damp hair pushed back by a headband, but he's wearing one of Rico's shirts, the same way Virgil is.
"Ah,"
Virgil leans back in his chair, flapping a hand towards the datapad on the desk in front of him.
"You want to handle it?"
Max wanders over, resting his arms over the back of Virgil's chair and looking over his shoulder. It's a disgruntled message about the crop output on a star system Virgil doesn't even remember coming under their banner— he hasn't figured out the best way to say sorry, who are you again? without sounding rude.
Max only skims half of it before giving up and huffing, leaning his head against Virgil's gently.
"No, I don't want to handle it. But if you need me to, I can go out there and start firing?"
Virgil lets his eyes drift shut for a moment, smelling the artisan shampoo Rico had found a few cycles ago that they've stocked their bathroom with. Max has the ever-lingering scent of fuel that means he's been messing with their ship, which is probably the reason he's not nagging at Virgil for working on what's technically a rest day— he's just as guilty.
"Not that kind of problem solving, babe."
Max sighs, equally as exhausted.
"Of course not. When did we even bring them in?"
He shrugs, twisting the chair so that he can tug Max closer, arms around his waist. His heartbeat is steady under his ear, metal palm coming to rest between Virgil's shoulders.
"I can't even remember. It's not that far from Rico's campaign, so it might be from him."
Max is quiet for a moment. Virgil can feel he's unsettled— they both are. Rico is too, he can tell.
"I don't like being split up, Virg."
Virgil scrubs his palm across his face, shoulders heavy. Everything's been heavy lately, always another problem to solve, another grievance to address, someone else trying to cut them off at the knees and put a bolt in their heads.
"I don't either. But we're only three, and we agreed on this."
It had only taken them a few cycles of near-constant arguing about who to send where, and how to prioritize— more important to have two at the front, where Rico is running a campaign, or more important to have someone else protecting Virgil?
"It'll wrap up faster if we both go out there."
...And so the current argument begins again. Virgil pushes up from his chair as Max crosses his arms, sending a mental ping to shut the door to his office and soundproof it. Max's eyes flick over as the door slides shut before narrowing as he looks back at him.
"You know I'm right."
Virgil pushes a hand through his hair, fingers skimming over one of the small braids.
"It's not about if you're right or not, Max. You are. It's about how it looks."
He feels Max getting defensive, their tie to Rico starting to stir slightly. He tries to push down his frustration with the situation— the last thing they need is to worry Rico while he's in a different system.
Max's mouth is downturned, gaze hard.
"It looks like we're pushing together as a team."
"Into where, Max? Largely occupied space? What kind of message does it send when all three of us go to the front for a combined push in that system?"
"Virg—"
"It looks like we're making a push for one of the Citadels. It already looks like we're making a push for a Citadel, no matter how many appeasing messages I send. If you and I go join, they will glass this entire system."
Max's frustration brushes against his own, a roiling and snappish thing. He and Rico are similar in that way, always wanting a target for their anger and anxiety, something they can kill to feel safer.
"But Rico is alone—"
He cuts off as Virgil folds a palm across his mouth, choosing to diffuse instead of argue. Sometimes it's easier with Max, especially when he isn't actually angry with Virgil.
"I need you here, with me."
It's the crux of the issue that the three of them had agreed on— Virgil isn't safe on his own without one or both of them around. There's too many threats, and he's too vital to risk. Max had eventually agreed with Rico then, and he'll agree again now, he just needs to be frustrated first.
His shoulder slump as he leans forward into Virgil, the sharp defensiveness receding and getting replaced with a soft worry. Virgil feels Rico brush faintly against both of them, a slip of reassuring presence.
They're all okay.
"I just wish I could do something about it."
Virgil presses their foreheads together, pushing a gentle swell of understanding.
"I know. I do too."
He can feel Max cooling down already. He's always easier to manage than Rico is with these issues, quick to anger but relatively easy to soothe.
Max takes a step back, tugging Virgil away from the desk, organic fingers wrapping around his wrist.
"Come on, you're not even supposed to be in your office today."
Virgil sends a ping to open the door, letting Max lead him by the hand out of his workspace, sliding his grip to twine their fingers together.
"You aren't supposed to be working either."
Max guides them to the left, further into their private space. The doorway chips twice as they pass through, confirming their biometrics.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Virgil squeezes his hand in a teasing reprimand.
"Oh, is that why you smell like fuel?"
Past the kitchen, past their hosting space, further back into the hallways.
"I always smell like fuel."
Something is off about Max still. It's subtle, but Virgil can feel it. Max takes them past the gym, past the pool, and all the way into the most fortified section of the base where their bedroom is tucked away.
"Max,"
The door slides shut before Virgil can ping it himself, and he feels Rico brush against their tie in question— just his tie with Virgil, a silent warning to check on Max. As if he could miss it.
"Sorry for arguing with you."
Virgil blinks at him, head quirking slightly.
"Sorry...? Max, that's fine. I appreciate getting feedback from both of you, I don't want yes men."
Max is shrinking away from their tie, trying to hide his emotions. It's futile and they both know it.
"But it's—"
He runs a hand through his hair with a sharp sigh.
"It's like you said, with the optics. We need to look united, we need to look more than united."
Virgil pushes a quick reassurance at Rico. He can handle this by himself, no need for a call. He's fairly confident he knows what it's about anyways.
"That doesn't mean you can't have a different opinion, Max. It just means we can't have any major disagreements in the middle of diplomatic meetings."
A small burst of frustration glances across their tie as Max's fingers tighten in his hair. It's his metal hand this time, the cold metal a hard contrast to the dark blonde.
"We're supposed to be one brain, we shouldn't be disagreeing to begin with."
There it is.
Virgil steps forward, curling his hand around Max's metal wrist, tugging it down and away. Max lets him, emotional turmoil evening out into a steady thrum of distress as he glances away to look at the wall. Virgil tries to push some of his own steady calm, coming into Max's space, making as many physical points of contact as possible.
"That bullshit is propaganda, Max. We share feelings, we can ping each other short messages, but those are all artificial enhancements— we're still human at our cores. We're not the same person sharing a brain, we're individuals. That's the strength."
The metal under his wrist flexes for a moment. Max's voice goes soft, quiet in the room with just the two of them.
"I don't feel very human anymore."
Virgil's hand finds the back of his neck, getting a gentle but firm grip and tilting his head up.
"What do you feel like?"
Max looks up at him, but at least it's not through him. They've had close calls before, worse with him than Rico or Virgil experience. He's leaning slightly into Virgil's hand, letting it ground him.
"I feel like an attack dog. When you tell me or Rico to kill someone."
Virgil doesn't let his feelings show on his face, watching Max's eyes closely, lowering his voice.
"Do you like it that way, when I order it? It absolves you of the responsibility."
Max's breathing is steadying, each breath a little slower, a little deeper, eyes darkening.
"Yeah,"
It's a soft breath, but Virgil doesn't miss how he's still tracking him. The awareness never really turns off with him and Rico now, always some part of their brain ready to launch directly into action.
But sometimes, with the right encouragement, Virgil can get them to slow down.
"You like doing what I tell you to do?"
Another slow breath. Virgil can feel the distress starting to ebb, replaced by the bone deep loyalty he knows is constant. Max's eyes are half lidded, but he's still watching Virgil, waiting for a cue.
"S'easy."
He's slowing down.
Virgil tugs them both backwards, letting himself fall onto the bed and pulling Max down with him. Max lands the way he always does— one arm at the back of Virgil's head, body over his, metal hand by his thigh in case he needs to manifest one of his guns.
He keeps one hand squeezed at the back of Max's neck, gaze steady as he looks at him.
"Take my shirt off for me."
Max blinks, his tie to Virgil settling easily. He wants to listen, wants to do what Virgil wants, he always does— but sometimes Virgil needs to ask him to do easy things.
He's careful as he gets Rico's shirt off, his warm palm resting against Virgil's sternum, feeling the rise and fall of each breath, waiting patiently for his next direction.
Virgil slides his palm from the back of his neck to his mouth, pressing one thumb past his lips, running it along the tops of his teeth.
"Bite me."
He doesn't need to say it twice— Max drops his head down, teeth grazing across his collarbone, sinking in just enough to sting. Virgil can feel him start to settle into contentment, mouthing along his shoulder and down his chest, sometimes taking extra time to nip at the skin. He keeps one hand at the back of Max's neck still, a solid grip, a reminder that while he may be letting Max do what he wants, Virgil is in charge.
He leans his head back with a soft groan when Max bites a little harder, testing the waters. His fingers tighten, but he lets the pleasure flicker across their tie lightning quick, smug as he feels Max lean into it.
"Harder."
The next bite draws blood, a sharp sting that switches to a dull throb across his side as he sucks in a sharp breath. Max licks across the bite in apology, drifting away into the familiar place that Virgil likes to keep both him and Rico in when they're stressed.
They listen better with blood in their mouths and his hands on their skin, guiding them where he wants him. It used to be more difficult to get them here, back when they still tried to feel their own guilt, but he's mostly broken them of the habit.
He'd taken on responsibility for his own actions, he's currently taking responsibility for humanity as a species— what's the guilt of two more people in the face of that? Especially when the two people are his Soul Ties, the other pieces of him.
He pets across the back of Max's neck, always sure to keep as many points of contact as possible.
"Again."
He expects Max to pick a different spot, and it leaves him unprepared for him to sink his teeth exactly where they'd been a moment ago.
"Fuck—"
He tries to arch up into it to get away from the sensation, but Max keeps him down even as Virgil tightens his grip on his neck, starting to squeeze. It's a small battle of wills, Max testing his limits.
He needs to trust that Virgil will keep him in line.
Virgil breathes through it, focusing on staring at the ceiling and not the ache in his side. He doesn't yank Max away or scold him, just lets him take what he needs until Max figures out that he's not getting a reaction.
A moment later, Max lets go. There's warmth dripping down the his side, and the air feels cool against the bite, but Virgil's point is made. He'd maintained control over the situation the way they both knew he would.
He doesn't mind giving reminders. He can feel the skin repairing itself already, muscles weaving back together, and he drags Max up to lay more solidly on top of him. His eyes are half lidded, blood smeared across his lips, and Virgil can feel deep contentment through their tie.
Virgil licks his thumb before brushing it across some of the blood, wiping it away as Max settles even further, limbs heavy on top of him. They won't be leaving their room for a while, but that's fine— Virgil has a datapad tucked under the pillow he can use once Max is asleep.
Normally it's a bit messier when all three of them are together, since it leaves one set of hands free to hold someone down, but Max hadn't needed all of that, just a gentle reminder.
Virgil runs a hand through his hair, scratching across his scalp. It's getting long, and while he knows Max doesn't mind pulling it back for a few cycles here and there, he's sure there's a hairdresser somewhere in the system that he can ask to come visit them.
Rico brushes up against him again in their tie, and Virgil sends reassurance. Rico likes to worry, and they'll be getting a call later, but Virgil knows if he'd thought there was truly an issue, he'd be taking the first flight back.
In the meantime, the Soul Tie is an easy way for them to check on each other, even if one of them is in the different system. Virgil presses up against his tie with Max, feeling him drop off into sleep, his prior discontentment nowhere to be found.
There will be more issues when they wake up— there always is— but this one, at least, was an easy fix.
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