Playing for Keeps - Lando Norris pairing: Lando Norris x (OFC) Daphne Girard Chapter Four: To Fall
Daphne Girard was many things. A cat mom, a certifiable love island connoisseur, and a kept secret for most of her life. Being the bastard sister of Max Verstappen was the least interesting of them all, if you asked her.content: a semi-slow burn friend's little sister romance, with a hefty side of found family drama and real family angst.
chapter warnings: anxiety attacks, self-image issues, crashes, This chapter contains strong mentions of eating disorders. Please watch out for yourself!
tag list: @landofotographyy @strawberrylov-er @myheartgoesvroom @breemary05-blog @vinylphwoar (I also tag all chapters with the PFK tag below for ease of use! A masterlist is also available for all chapters, pinned on my page ! )
Chapter Four under the cut! We jump some time in this one to get things going!
2020. August.
He’d been so fucking close.
He had to give it to Lewis, the man had managed to finish the race in first place on a tire shredded to hell. One more lap and Max would have had him.
And yet the smile hadn’t left his face since the podium. Charles had shot him with champagne straight to the face, but he’d given it back as good as he got. It may not have been his home race, but there was something different about Silverstone.
He’d win it next year. Would come for Lewis’ home race, and then his championship.
His radio interactions with GP meant longer than normal press interviews after, and once the post-race conference ended too it had been hours since he’d last seen a familiar face. He found himself looking around, as if he could spot blonde hair even though his sister was countries away, back at home.
One day he’d have her here. She deserved to be seen, just like Victoria.
“Max!”
The voice seemed panicked, and Max spun on his heel to see a figure jogging toward him, an older man trailing him.
“Lando?”
“Hey man, sorry. I tried to call you but I’m guessing Anna still has your phone. This is Chris, er—Piastri? Says he knows you. That there was an emergency.” The look on his face clearly showed his disbelief, with a tinge of concern. Max knew Lando was a hair’s breadth from calling for security if needed.
“No, no, I know him. He’s a family friend. Thanks, mate.”
The look on Chris’ face rushed Max into dismissing the younger man, with a clasp to his shoulder and a half smile. Only when Lando had headed back to McLaren did Max let his concern through.
“Chris, what happened?”
“Where’s your phone, mate? Oscar and Nicole have been trying you since the race ended!” Anna was nowhere in sight, though Max began to steer them back towards Red Bull in an attempt to locate it.
“What’s going on?”
“Daphne’s in the hospital.”
He froze, ice trickling down his spine. His heart thudded, stopped, kick-started once again. “What? What the fuck happened?”
Chris grimaced, shaking his head. “Her appendix burst, and she went into surgery last night. Oscar’s her emergency contact, but he was racing, found out a few hours after, and flew out last night with Lily. She’s at Princess Grace back in Monaco, so we need to go.”
“She’s been in the hospital for almost a whole fucking day, and nobody called me?” He roared, realizing belatedly the stares he was beginning to get. He turned, jogging into Hospitality.
Hallways flew by, his driver’s room door bashing into the wall in his haste to open it. His phone sat on the counter, now lit up with dozens of missed calls and texts.
Chris reached the doorway, slightly out of breath after the way Max tore off. “She made him promise not to tell you until after the race. She didn’t have them call Oscar until after his yesterday. Stubborn girl, your sister.”
“She’s alright?” His voice cracked halfway, and he cleared it hastily. “She’s awake?”
“As of a few hours ago, yes. She made it there before it burst, but as she was being checked out it happened and she went under pretty soon after. But she did collapse in the lobby, last time I spoke to Nicole she mentioned a possible concussion. But she’s awake Max. Surgery went fine.”
Surgery. Pack clothes, concussion, grab his passport, laptop. His thoughts a swirl of concern. All were shoved back into his backpack as he headed to the doors. “We can take my plane, it’s faster.”
“You own a jet now?”
“It’s…recent.” Daphne had teased him mercilessly, said he was a new level of diva. The memory was only a few months old and still it ached in his chest now.
She was fine, she was awake.
And if that changed before he made it to Monaco?
They’d finally meet Jos Verstappen’s son to be exactly how he was raised.
______
iMessage: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris
Max: Mate, I’m sorry. I know I promised a ride but there’s been an emergency I’m heading straight to the tarmac now.
Lando: It’s no big deal mate, AirMax can wait! Hope evrythn is okay. let me know if you need anythng, yeah?
Max: Copy that.
_______
Lily’s hand felt clammy where it grasped her own.
It was the one thought that cycled back around as she lay in her hospital bed. Everything felt too bright, too sharp. Nicole was across the room, she’d explained the nurses said she was having a bad reaction to coming off the anesthesia. That she’d feel too raw for a while, oscillating between nausea and anxiety.
If only that was the reason for the tightness in her chest, the warm wetness on her cheeks as tears fell hot and steady down her face.
“He hates me, Lily.”
Lily grimaced, the denial swift. “No babe, he doesn’t. Oscar could never hate you. He’s a bit…raw right now. Just give him a bit.” Fingers squeezed her own once, twice.
“He punched a wall.”
“He punched a curtained wall. Barely broke skin.”
“He said I scare him.”
“Daphne—“ Lily pleaded, squeezing until Daphne met her gaze. “He said you scared him. Past tense. You scared all of us. You could have died if you hadn’t made it here, if it burst when you were home alone. That scared us. As for the rest….he’s angry he didn’t see it. Or that he did, and couldn’t help. So am I, for that matter. I let you down.”
“W-what?” Her lip wobbled, fresh tears cascading down her face. “You didn’t do anything wrong! I’m the one who ruined it, I’m the one who’s too broken and fucked up and—“
“Daphne Helene!”
Both girls froze, Nicole’s voice stern as she walked over and sat next to Lily.
“I don’t want to hear another word like that from your mouth, darling. Not one word. You are not broken, not something to be mended. You need help, Daphne. There is nothing wrong with that. It just shows how strong a girl you are to see the issue and know it means you need it.”
“But Oscar—“
“Would say the same thing if he weren’t sulking in the hall. That boy has always carried the world on his shoulders. He did the same thing when he found out Mae was having problems with those girls at school. As if it was his fault he couldn’t bodily walk her to class and watch her every move. He’ll come around darling, and you’ll both heal. Just focus on getting better in this moment, alright? We’ll take on the rest tomorrow.”
She nodded, gazing between her best friend and the woman who was more of a mother than she’d ever had. Lily reached out to wipe her tears.
“Sleep, Daph. We’ll still be here when you wake up, and we’ll figure it out then. No more doing it alone. We’re a team.”
The words eased some of the ache, the pain meds that flooded her system taking care of the rest. Within a few minutes of steady beeping, Daphne was out.
Lily burst into silent tears the moment she was, ducking into Nicole’s open arms.
“Shh, there, there. it’s alright. She’s alright. She’ll be okay lovely, I meant that.”
They'd said that last time too.
_______
“Oscar!”
Max stepped into the empty waiting room and saw the Australian sat hunched in a chair towards the back. A melting bag of ice was on his knuckles, and in that moment Lily brushed past him to drop a fresh bag into his lap.
“Swap.”
Oscar sighed, letting the melted bag fall into the trash bin as he rose to greet Max.
“You made it.”
“Would have made it a lot fucking sooner if you’d called me yesterday! She had surgery! And you thought I didn’t need to know? What the fuck, Oscar!”
“She told them not to let me call you, mate. Those were the exact words they said she begged for. 'Call Oscar if you have to, but don’t let him bring Max. He has to race.' I wasn’t about to go against her wishes, brother or not."
“So they called you? Since when are you her emergency contact and not Celia?”
“Since she was sixteen and Celia didn’t remember to authorize clinic care in case of emergency. Daphne broke her wrist and she wouldn’t answer the school’s calls. And your dad was 'too busy.' Nicole accepted the proxy label until the second Osc turned eighteen. He made Daph change it to him after that.” Lily said exhaustedly, rubbing her eyes. “Can we not do more of the posturing bullshit, please?”
“Lily—“
“No Oscar! You got to sulk out here while I consoled her and promised her you didn't hate her! This isn’t about you, so get over your wounded pride for a second so we can put our heads together and fix this!”
“What’s going on? Chris said she was fine!” Max interjected, already trying to bolt down the hall to Daphne.
"Max—"
“Has she been eating?” Oscar cut in, teeth gritted.
“What?”
“Has she been eating, Max? Consistently. In front of you? I know with the season in session you’re gone more now but—before? She was eating?”
A sense of dread began to pool in his chest at the probing.
“Yes, yes she was eating! Sure we both had terrible schedules and got distracted a few times a week or days but — I’m sorry, are you saying I should have been monitoring that? Her food intake?”
Oscar sank back down into the flimsy waiting room chair, head in his hands. “She begged us to let her be the one to tell you on her own terms. We only agreed because she’d been doing so well for so long.”
“Oscar, it’s still hers to tell—” Lily's voice was soft, pleading.
“No!” He shot back up, paced the room. “You know her stomach had been hurting on and off for over a week, Lily? And you know why she didn’t fucking clock that it was serious? I got it out of her earlier. She thought it was fucking hunger pains—“
He choked up, eyes wet. “Our best friend almost died because her appendix was about to burst but she chalked it up to her usual pains because she wasn’t eating enough. On purpose! She lost the right to that secret when it almost cost her her life!”
“She—she doesn’t eat?”
How the fuck had he missed that?
“And you thought it was something you could wait to tell me? Both of you?”
“Don’t do that!” Lily shot back at Max, defensive in her devastation.
“We got her through it before, we were the only ones who held her up when your god damn father felt the need to tear her down for existing. When her mother preferred her looking starving and hollow. When her meals and her weight were the only things she had control over in her own life. We did it before, helped her get better, and we’ll do it again. Without you, if you can’t handle that."
"Should we have told you? Yes. But we didn’t, and that’s in the past. It was hard enough to trust you with her, to let her go enough to live with you. You wanted to know her, and I will be damned if I wasn’t going to let that be on her terms. She comes before you, Verstappen. Every fucking time.”
The room went silent, the men in their anger and Lily in her sadness. She rose, walking into Oscar’s arms as they gripped each other tight. Max dropped into the nearest chair hands tugging at blonde strands until his eyesight cleared the red haze of anger.
“I know I wasn’t around before. That wasn’t exactly my choice, but it doesn’t make it any less true. But I’m here now, and I’ve spent almost half this year getting to know my sister. Loving my sister. Because I do love her, guys. She’s easy to love, you both know that. So I need you to clue me in, if we’re going to help her. No more team of two. Let me take some of that weight now.”
Oscar stared across the room at the Dutchman, eyes red. It was easy to say, harder to prove. But he’d done well for her so far, and he knew deep down that Daphne would need all three of them.
“Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry Max. Really. I just, I can’t, she’s my—“
“I know.” Max responded. “And i’ll owe you forever for being that for her when I couldn’t. I’m not replacing you, mate. I’m just here now too. She deserves a family. And that has been you two a hell of a lot longer than it’s been me.”
“If you all are done,” They turned to see Nicole leaning in the doorway, amusement and pride warring on her face. “She’s awake and asking for her brothers—"
“—Both of them.”
_______
Daphne flinched as the door opened with a click, distracting herself with picking at her cuticles.
A hand closed over her own, pushing her fingers away from the picking before she could draw blood. She gazed up into familiar brown eyes, hating how her own welled up once more. God, she couldn’t seem to stop crying.
“You scared me, Daph. Doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere. Can’t shake me that easy. But I don’t hate you, never could.”
“Promise?” A whisper between the two.
“Always. To hell and back, just like we said. We’ll get through this.”
Oscar kissed her forehead once, twice, before joining Lily back on the small sofa in the corner. Max took his place on the side of her bed, pushing a strand of hair from her face as he took her in.
“Zusje.”
“Hi, Maxie.” She saw his grimace and pushed on. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to ruin the race or make you see me differently, and I tried to keep it under control! I didn’t think it’d get this bad, and I lied to Lily and Oscar that I’d tell you about the rest—“ She fell silent as his arms encircled her frame, tugging her all too gently to his chest.
“It’s alright, little one. All I care about is that you’re okay. It’s all that matters. Everything else we can fix, I promise. But Daphne?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to listen, Zusje. Love is not something you need to earn. You don’t need to make yourself palatable to keep me around. I wanted to know you, all of you. The messy parts too. No one grows up like we did and escapes without a few fucked up pieces. You are my sister. Full stop, end of story. Let me decide what I can and can’t handle from now on, alright? Let me be the big brother for awhile. You come before racing. That is my choice to make, not yours.”
“It’s hard. To let you see.” Her trembling whisper met with his soft, unguarded smile. Her favorite Max smile.
“I know. And all I can ask is you try. We’re gonna get you home, and get you someone to talk to.” Her look of panic was met with soothing sounds, soft squeezes of her hands.
“Not a place where you stay, your doctor said you can do outpatient treatment. Therapy, some meetings, and a nutritionist. You get to join me on the specialized meal plans now. Our fridge is about to be extremely organized. And when your campus opens up again…we’ll figure it out.”
Daphne looked to Lily, who smiled encouragingly. “It sounds like a good plan, babe. He even promised the third bedroom to Oscar or I whenever we can make it down. Which in my eyes, is going to be often. We've got this.”
“What about Dad? You didn’t tell him I was here, did you?”
The thought of him knowing of yet another way she’d failed had her skin crawling with anxiety.
“No, of course not. You’re of age and he’s not your emergency contact, so there was no reason to. And once we get you home, I could care less if he knows.”
“Max, you don’t mean that!”
“Yes, Daphne, I do! No more secrets, not between the immediate family at least. We can discuss it more, but it’s time Victoria and my mom knew the truth. As for Jos, let him try and cause problems. If it’s the money, I could pay your tuition ten times over without flinching. The world doesn’t need to know yet but as for us?” He smiled, that glint of competition in his eyes so familiar.
“I’m done hiding that you matter. Done standing aside as you keep yourself in the shadows. The people we love will know. And for now that will be enough.”
_______
2020. August.
And it was.
Daphne returned to the apartment three days later with family in tow, the cats meowing angrily at the supposed slight of her absence. Lily flew to London on Max’s plane and returned the same night with a few suitcases to last her a while.
Both Max and Oscar had races the upcoming weekend, and It was at the behest of Nicole and Lily that they were convinced to go as they’d already missed the first half of race week prep. But Daphne had met with her new team of doctors and a nutritionist, and the girls seemed confident that they could hold down the fort and help her get around while her incisions healed.
She watched Oscar fly across the track, watched Sky TV pan to the viewers and grinned when she spotted Max in the visitor’s garage, GP in tow. It was the first time he’d ever publicly watched Oscar race, and she knew the relationship between the two had shifted for the better.
Her phone beeped a reminder, and both girls settled in at the coffee table as Nicole brought over plates for all three. Day six down, a lifetime to go.
For the first time, she didn’t dread the thought.
_______
2020. September
Max and Oscar sat on opposite ends of the overly large sofa. Every once in a while one of them wandered down the hall. Oscar to pretend to use the bathroom yet again, Max with an empty excuse of needing something from the office.
Both truly just walked by Daphne’s open door again and again, to where she and Lily lay curled up under heavy blankets. A Taylor Swift album played softly through the room, curtains pulled so only slivers of golden sun peaked through at their edges.
Daphne’s uneaten plate of breakfast sat abandoned on the desk, alongside ignored snacks and stale water.
Lily’s gentle tone spread through the room, soft murmurs of comfort and promise. Oscar leaned against the doorframe, watching with the dull familiar ache of a bad day.
He returned to the couch, offering Max a small shake of the head. They’d wait, and wait some more for the clouds of the day to break.
Max hoped that when they did, his sister would come out the other side just a bit lighter.
_______
2020. September
iMessage: Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen
Max: You bought her private cooking classes?
Charles: They start in a few days. I was hoping it would help. Things are less frightening when you can hold them in hand. I hope I didn’t overstep.
Max: No Not at all. She’s so excited Charles, really I— Thank you. You have no idea what that smile meant. It’s been a bad few days for her.
Charles: I know. I could see the stress you hold. I am glad it helped. Anything for her if it eases her struggle a bit. For you both.
Max: I am starting to get that.
Charles: Good.
_______
2020. October
The tomatoes were gorgeous. Daphne spoke rapidly back and forth with the vendor of the tiny booth, debating how many she’d need for the recipe she had in mind. Max had liked the last thing she’d cooked but—
“Daphne?”
She turned, apologizing to the vendor as she faced the two men approaching. Unmistakable as brothers, and unmistakable to Monaco as a whole these days. Even with the masks covering half their faces, everyone knew the Leclercs. But it was Arthur who had spoken, smiling.
“Sorry, this is probably so weird! But I drive with Oscar at Prema, and he has you and him and his girlfriend as his wallpaper and talks about you both constantly— you are Daphne, oui?”
“Yes, hello Arthur. It is nice to meet you.” Daphne smiled, her eyes shifting past him to his brother. She had yet to actually meet Charles in person, said hello here and there as Max FaceTimed and had just recently thanked him profusely for his gift. But she’d needed time to heal before facing anyone new just yet.
Arthur knew none of that, though, as far as she was aware. She saw Charles take her in, saw the way he catalogued her appearance.
It felt a little like care, and she smiled at him softly. “Charles, right?”
He broke from his reverie, smiling brightly. Woah, that was something. “Yes! It is very nice to meet you Daphne. I have heard a lot about you.” He ignored Arthur’s confused noises, pressing on.
“The market here is one of the best, I hope you’re enjoying it.”
“Oh, I am! I used to come here with my au pair when I was quite small. It's lovely to know things do not change.”
“Oh!” Arthur exclaimed, grinning. “I heard you speaking and thought you spoke French like a local. It is nice to see I was right. Oscar never mentioned you were from Monaco!”
Daphne grinned, never one to turn down being recognized as a proud Monegasque. “Yes, born and raised. Though we moved to London when I was nine. I moved back earlier this year, and it was my first time back since.”
“And has it changed much?” Charles asked, a knowing gentleness in his words.
“No, it hadn't. But I have. And I think I’m okay with that.” The woman who ran the stall cleared her throat, and Daphne giggled in embarrassment. Bills were exchanged, a small bundle of tomatoes making their way into her oversized purse.
“I have been taking this cooking class, you see, and making my brother be my tester. Or victim, as he’d say. Not every recipe has been entirely successful.”
“Oh yes! Oscar managed to hoard that batch of banana muffins you sent all to himself. Logan almost cried.” Arthur replied, laughing. The three left the stall, meandering down the walkway of the street market. Daphne pulled out a crumpled pink list. Still a few stops to go.
Arthur ducked off with a quick goodbye, distracted by a friend he knew a few stalls away. It left her with Charles, who smiled once more.
“I won’t hug you, but please know it is taking everything in me not to. It is nice to finally meet you in person, Cherie.”
“You too, Charles. Max mentioned you’d flown back together, so I figured I’d run into you eventually. And once again, I can't thank you enough for the classes. I am enjoying them so much and well—it’s a nice change,”
“Your class is going well, then? He mentioned you were excited.”
“I love it.” The blonde admitted. “It’s a lot easier to eat when I’m the one making the food, the whole process of it. You were right. And I’m actually not too bad! You should come over for dinner with Max and me.”
“That sounds perfect. I cannot wait. In the meantime, it is nice to see you looking so well, Daphne. Tell Max hello for me, yes?”
“Tell him yourself, Leclerc. I’m sure you’ll text him all about this the second I leave. I’ll leave you to it.” With a wink, she set off back down the open street, purse full of ingredients swinging to and fro on her shoulder.
She was everything he’d been expecting, and yet still even more. Including stuffing heirloom tomatoes into a bag he knew cost at least 6000 euro. Her birthday gift from Max as he so fondly recalled his fretting.
Her brother would have his hands full, it seemed.
______
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_______
2020. December
He hadn’t meant to overhear. Max did his best to give absolute privacy to Daphne when she had her sessions. But she’d left the windows in the office open due to the lingering breeze, and her voice trickled out to Max on the balcony.
“I guess it’s still surprising sometimes that he even wants me here. Let alone for Christmas.”
Max paused, realized what was happening and turned to head back inside. But the awful part of him needed to know. Needed to hear the worst of her thoughts if he was ever going to show her otherwise.
“Why is that? It seems since we met he’s been very involved in your care plan.”
“Care plan.” She snorted, and Max knew she hated that word. “Like I’m a plant in need of watering or a child in need of constant monitoring. It’s like he shares custody with Oscar and Lily—“
“That seems a little unfair, doesn’t it?”
He heard the silence, the weight of it.
“No, I know it is. I just feel….guilty, I suppose. A constant burden among the three of them. Oscar and Lily have been looking out for me for years, and now Max is burdened with my problems when he’s supposed to be focused on a championship. It just feels like —“
“Like?”
“Like my dad was right. I was only ever going to be a complication for them. For Max. Something he didn’t need. And that just makes that voice in my head say that if he was right about that, what if he was right about me?”
“Well, I think you do Max and the others a disservice when you make assumptions, Daphne. We’ve talked before about control, and how crucial it can feel for you. I think this is another aspect of that. If you control the assumptions on how they feel about helping you, it would hurt less if you’re proven right. And I mean if.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, the thing about friends is they aren’t required to help you, not to the level yours have. That comes from a place of care, and from when we’ve spoken I know that you yourself give that same level of care and compassion back to them. There isn’t a lot you wouldn’t do for those two, am I correct in that?”
“Of course I would.”
“Then give them that same grace. Not everything is an obligation. And as for Max, I don’t think he moved you into his home out of a sense of obligation. Not when he could have very easily moved you into an apartment somewhere if it was just basic needs needing to be met. You’re placing those same assumptions on him, and why is that?”
The pause was lengthier, Max’s hands gripping his thighs as he waited.
“Because sometimes the voice in my head isn’t mine. It sounds like my dad. Or my Maman.”
“And in those instances, we’ve established that it isn’t always the most reliable. You and your brother have found some good compromises, holidays included. Will it help your anxiety to run through the plan again?”
“Oh, uh. Maybe?”
“Good, go on then.”
“Max and I spend Christmas Eve together, and open presents. I cook dinner, and try not to muck it up. He flies to Belgium to meet up with Victoria, Sophie and the boys. I decline to come again, I know he’ll try— and then I take the train to London to have Christmas Day with Lily and Oscar and her family. I drive back with Lily and Oscar on the 30th, and we have New Years Eve here in Monaco.”
“Excellent. And is anything about that plan giving you anxious thoughts?”
“No? I mean, I made the plan. Well, we did. Max and I. So I would feel okay with it.”
“Which tells you what?”
“He cares about what I think. And feel.” It’s stronger now, the relief in her voice. “That he wouldn’t go out of his way just because he's kind. That when he says he cares, he means it.”
“There we go, Daphne. Excellent.”
Max smiled, hand trailing through the strands of hair he’d tugged at restlessly. She would be okay.
And so would he.
_______
2021. February
“Daphne!”
“Yes?” She called back, muffled from the highlighter stuck between her teeth. The papers spread across the coffee table were color-coded in various levels of sticky notes and highlighter, and it was beginning to make her head spin.
“You rearranged my closet. Again. And the paperwork system in my office. Again.”
“Technically yes, but both are now much more multifunctional. You clearly only ever wore the same boring outfits to the paddock because you couldn’t find anything in your closet. So you’re welcome.”
“And the paperwork?”
“Piles of paper labeled with the sticky note: ‘do not throw away’ is not how an adult functions, Max Emilian. So again, you are welcome.”
His eyes rolled towards the ceiling, counting to ten internally before he returned his attention to the frazzled blonde.
“Okay, enough. Drop the highlighter and sit with me on the couch, please.”
She glanced up at the tone, worried she’d crossed a line, but found only amusement and exasperation on his face. Her resistance was futile when he played fake stern, and they both knew it. It did nothing to lessen the pout on her face as she sat up.
“Daphne, no more distractions. This isn’t about the piles. You move back to university next week for classes in person, and you’re melting down in that hyper-functional way of yours. True or false?”
“Completely true, though exaggerated. I do not melt down. I mini-spiral. It’s efficient.” She huffed, glancing down at the mess on the table.
“True or false: you actually want to go back.” Her look of indignation brought a snort from the man, but he pushed on.
“You don’t have to go back, not if you don’t want to.”
“Of course I do, I have to finish my program. Separation anxiety doesn’t mean I get to quit my entire life.”
Max sighed, arms crossed. “Do you want me to be the selfish one here? Because I have no problem with that. You don’t seem to want to go back to London. I also do not want you to go back to London. We agree, so now we just find a solution.”
“UAL doesn’t offer solely online degrees to undergrad students. I checked.” Daphne admitted, flopping backwards into the pillows.
“If you can get your advisor to sponsor your work, I am sure with enough money and connections, I can convince them to let you submit online. This whole year has been unprecedented.”
“Max!”
“What? What good is being a millionaire if I do nothing with it? You have a problem, and in this instance, money fixes that problem. You are allowed accommodations. You are allowed to have a break.”
“It feels like cheating!”
“What, finding a way to finish school without self-destructing?” At her look of betrayal, he rephrased, determined. “You have been doing well, Zusje. So fucking well. And I know a part of my pushing is because I hate the thought of what could happen when you go back. I love having you here. But this isn’t my life, it isn’t my future. So be honest with me. Do you want to go back?”
She took her time contemplating, a weight to her words.
“No— I know I should! But the thought of it makes my chest tight and my head hurt and just — I don’t think I’m ready. I’m scared. The last time I was alone I fucked up so badly, Max. But I don’t want to stop school, I really do enjoy my online courses and I also don’t want to spend the entire race season here alone so I might as well go back and then there’s Lily and Marcos—“
“We will make it work. We get you into an online program until you’re ready. Lily will understand. If she wants it, I’ll make it happen for her too. I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing Oscar more. I owe her one or seventeen. And you have been ‘dating ‘ Marcos for three weeks. He is not relevant.”
And now, his ace. “And as for the season, I had an idea.”
“First of all, rude. He’s nice. Second, you have that look, the slightly manic one. I’m going to hate this.”
“Hate traveling with me all season? Hate seeing the world? Very ungrateful of you, Daphne.”
She waited for the punchline, and it never came. He looked far too smug, to be honest. It should have been annoying, but endearing won out.
“Max!” She cackled. “I can’t do that! What possible excuse could you give your team? The paddock?”
“First of all, Christian already knows. So does Helmut. Forget Dad for now, he won’t show his face after the fight after New Year's—“ They both winced at the reminder, the argument months old and yet still a fresh wound. “—The rest can know what we choose to tell them. Hell, come as my assistant! Anna has been begging me to get one for ages outside of the Red Bull management team, but I still see no point. This will at least appease her.”
“This is insane.”
“No, this is genius. I get to have you with me and show you my world, and you get to see the world, period. It’s perfect.”
It was also too good to be true, and yet she wanted more than anything to say yes. Wasn’t Dr. Fournier telling her she needed to grasp the things she wanted?
“…One condition.”
“Name it.”
“You let me be your actual assistant. For being my capable, multi-million dollar level elite athlete of an older brother, the organization of your life is an actual disaster. I love systems, you love not doing things. So let me do them.”
“Daphne, the job was a front. I’m not making you work for me.”
“And I’m asking for you to make it real. I need a purpose, Maxie. I’ll go insane in the downtime otherwise.”
He considered, knowing there was no alternative. “You’re sure? I don’t want this to fuck us up.”
“Positive.”
“Fine. But I will be paying you, at a rate I find acceptable, not you. And you take some time to get settled into the role, and finish out this semester of class from home. It means you’d only miss the first three or four races and join the team at Monaco and onward.”
Her huffing and grumbling lasted a minute tops before she conceded. “Fine, but only because that much travel is going to require an entire wardrobe overhaul, and you might as well fund our poor decisions.”
“Yes!” He tugged her close, grinning as she fell into the hug. Her soft laughter was a balm to the past few months, and he relished in it.
And she was off in a rush of plans and outfit ideas, grabbing her notebook to a blank page to start her charting. Max grinned, thrilled with the agreement. He could keep her safe, and keep her close.
Win, win.
_______
2021. April
iMessage: Logan Sargeant & Oscar Piastri
Logan: Hey mate, question for you.
Oscar: Yeah?
Logan: Is Daphne single right now?
Oscar: Oh absolutely fucking not
Logan: What? I thought she broke up with that guy.
Oscar: She did. But absolutely not.
Logan: Oscar, come on. You’re gonna go all Big Brother about this? You know me!
Oscar: She’d eat you alive. Also there’s a no driver rule She doesn’t do boyfriends anyway.
Logan: I can name at least three boyfriends you’ve mentioned. And no driver rule? Does she KNOW about that rule?
Oscar: She never lets them last long. I’m hoping that if I just think the rule hard enough, it’ll embed into her brainwaves Drivers are dicks
Logan: You can’t osmosis cockblocking
Oscar: Not how osmosis works Also there’s no cock to fucking block. Leave her alone, Logan.
Logan: Message received, mate. I make a great friend
Oscar: Right.
_______
2021 May. FORMULA 1 GRAND PRIX DE MONACO
The races began, and Daphne began to build a new vision for what was to come. The logistics of it all scared her, the instability of the unknown. But therapy was helping, and her schedules helped too. Christian seemed exasperated with Max’s plans, but with so much to gain for his star driver, there was little he could do. Plus, Max paid her salary, not Red Bull.
And for the first time in a long time she was excited for what was to come, excited to see Max’s world even the smallest bit, not through a screen or hidden in the depths of the trailers. She would get to watch him race, be there to experience as he took the world by storm.
As he won a championship.
Because there was no denying it. He was on his way to taking it all. The season had barely begun and yet it was a constant back and forth for him and Lewis. She could see the hunger in Max, the confidence that grew each time he sat behind the wheel and pulled off a win. Even his losses just made him eager to continue, a hunter with his prey well in sight.
The paddock was packed, celebrities and the rich and powerful at every seat, stand, and box. Daphne had spotted a few very recognizable faces in Red Bull hospitality, and some that seemed not quite as well known. A model lurked nearby, some ex-driver’s daughter that seemed intent on meeting the drivers and receiving little luck. Max himself had holed himself up pretty well in his driver’s room to avoid her.
The race began and tragedy struck not for Max, but for Charles. She ached for the man who’d just lost his home race yet again, the Monaco curse continuing to haunt the narrative of his career.
And to salt the wound, Max won the entire thing. She watched as he sat on the halo of his car, hands in the air and eyes squinty with the force of his smile. His shouts of joy as he embraced the mechanics, his team, and Christian. Daphne didn’t move from her spot back in the garage, GP to keep her company.
“He’s going to do it, isn’t he?” She murmured, the grin on her face unstoppable. GP huffed a laugh, his gaze following hers to where Max reigned victorious at the most prestigious race of the season.
“Yeah, Daphne. I think he just might.”
_______
Lando hoped he never got used to the feeling of champagne.
The bubbles of it as it poured down his throat, the sting of it as it was inevitably shot straight at his eyes. The chill of it creeping down the back of his nomex, sticky and cloying.
Champagne meant a podium; it meant he was one move closer to that very top step. Lando wanted that first victory so bad he could taste it, and it currently tasted like expensive champagne on his tongue.
He was finally released from the swell of team members, their group photos posed with the trophy and the board, taking much longer than he’d hoped. The Monaco curfew would keep him from a raucous celebration, but he hoped to at least get in a nice dinner that disagreed with his meal plan before the night’s end.
It was on his trek back to McLaren that his eyes reminded him once more of the champagne that clung to his lashes, and Lando grumbled as he rubbed at their redness.
“Please, stop that. I am begging you, you look like a small child, and you will only make it worse like that.”
The insult was from a faceless stranger, though he couldn’t see much through the spots of light in his vision thanks to the eye-rubbing. His hand was grabbed, something wet and square placed in his palm.
“It’s a makeup wipe, a micellar solution. Just go gently, and it should help.”
“-Does saving my eyesight usually come with so many insults?” He grouched, but recognized the familiar scent of the wipes. His ex had often left them on his bathroom countertop. The fabric was cool, soothing as he rubbed the champagne out of his eyes and wiped the rest of his face for good measure. He blinked rapidly, vision clearing to see someone who looked more fairy than human.
A tiny thing dressed in a green satin shift dress, honey blonde hair piled onto her head with a fuzzy-looking clip. Pretty blue eyes, glitter on her lids, and cheekbones. The denim jacket hanging off her shoulders declared her as from Red Bull, as did the pass around her neck. An unfamiliar face, albeit fucking stunning, so she must be new.
“No, but you almost took me out coming around that corner while rubbing at your eyes, and it physically pained me to see you keep going. And you literally just podiumed, your ego can take a hit there, Norris.”
“That right, Tink?”
Blue eyes widened, glancing down at her outfit before they rolled spectacularly. “Wow, very creative there.”
“Considering you have me at a disadvantage, it was the best I could do.” He watched the pink flush settle onto the tops of her cheeks, even as she straightened up to leave. “Thank you for that wipe, though. Sorry about the almost crash.”
“It’s fine. I have an incredibly overpacked bag with me most days, you just get to reap the benefits this time.” He heard her phone chirp, and knew he too had places to be.
“Can I at least get the name of my self-proclaimed savior?”
“Well, that would make it way too easy, wouldn’t it?”
Ouch. She brushed past him, and he continued on, unable to resist calling out as he walked backwards.
“So I’ll be seeing you around, then?”
She didn’t even turn to face him, her laugh slipping over her shoulder. “You should be so lucky!”
Fuck, he hoped he would be.
_______
After that, it was easy to spot her everywhere.
She was clearly new to the Red Bull camp, but not in a front-facing roll since he never spotted her in an RB kit. He would see glimpses of blonde hair through a hospitality door, or the side of her face as he sprinted towards the pit lane, somehow always almost late to the national anthem.
And the biggest clue of all came when he’d stayed too late after Austria, the high of another podium still buzzing under his skin. The private lot where his car for the week was parked had mostly cleared out by the time he reached it.
But down the lot, towards the edge, he spotted a familiar Dutchman. Max was tossing a bag into the boot of his own car, and Lando waved a hand to call out hello when he spotted her.
The semi-familiar blonde, laughing at whatever Max was saying as they both ducked into the car. The slam of car doors, the rev of an engine, and Lando ducked back behind a pillar as he drove past. There she sat, in the passenger seat. Legs curled into her frame, the perfect picture of comfort and ease in someone’s company.
So she knew Max. Well enough to show up together, to leave together.
Interesting.
_______
51g’s of force in a crash was fucking mental.
Lando had felt the jolt of relief as Will confirmed Max was out of the car and walking, though the confirmation of the G’s was enough to leave him floored. Walking away from that was a blessing, and he’d hoped his friend was well enough at the end of it.
Will had played him the radio after the race, saw the footage of the spin, the slam of car meeting wall. Max’s groans of pain, broadcast for the world to witness. The darkest part of the sport they all lived and breathed.
Every driver knew the cost of getting behind that wheel, what they could leave behind. And today Max could have come very, very close. Lando felt the shiver down his spine, the chill of memory.
Slinging his bag over one shoulder, he turned to head towards the paddock exits and slammed straight into a frazzled looking Charles. He was in street clothes now too, though a lot more wrinkled and disheveled than he remembered him looking this morning.
“Whoa, Charles, where’s the fucking fire?” Charles didn’t even seem to fully take him in, phone to one ear as he gazed past him. His eyes looked a bit wild, and he clicked the phone off when it went to voicemail. Again.
“Sorry, sorry. I am supposed to be on the way to the hospital to see Max and to bring— someone there, but the fucking car Ferrari sent is somehow lost, and I also cannot find Daphne and— fuck, I cannot think straight.”
“Okay, okay. Let me help, what can I do?”
“Non— you cannot, I made a promise to Max and now—“ Charles took a deep, staggering breath, attempting to rein in the anxiety wracking through him. “I know he will be fine, but the way it looked….I just need to see. And I am not the only one.”
“Charles, let me help. I can even drive, you don’t look like you should be behind a wheel right now and plus—“
“Charles!”
Both men spun to see the blonde girl practically bolting for them, and she slammed into Charles’ chest as his arms curled around her.
“Charles I-it— it looked so awful and now they only have small updates, and they’re saying scans?! And I—I can’t—“ Her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks ruddy with drying tears and Lando watched as her chest heaved where she leaned against the Monegasque.
“Shhh cherie, it is alright. He is alright, he will be fine. Let’s get to the hospital so he can tell you himself.” Charles brushed the hair away that stuck to her sticky cheeks, and Lando felt blindsided by the familiarity. What exactly had he missed?
“Let me drive you both.” The offer was more of a demand, seeing the way the two clung to the shred of calm between them. “You’ll make it there fast, and in one piece.”
He watched as the girl—Daphne?—paled dramatically. She hadn’t realized he was even there, apparently. Her panic sent her back to Charles, who leaned down to murmur in her ear for a few moments, unconcerned as Lando stared once more. Whatever he said helped soothe what had spooked her in his presence.
“If you’re sure, Lando, I would be very grateful. Do you need to grab anything, Cherie?”
“No, I have his bag and mine. I’d just like to go please.”
Lando ushered them both into the parking lot and towards his car, Charles ducking into the backseat with Daphne.
Alright, uber for two then.
The drive there was silent, both passengers constantly on their phones, at times showing messages to each other as they went. Lando’s eyes met Daphne’s a few times in the mirror, though he was quick to glance away as she was.
The second Lando pulled up out front and stuck his hazards on, Daphne bolted from the car and in through the front doors of the emergency center. Charles went at a more sedate pace, grabbing the abandoned bags and throwing them over his shoulders.
“Thank you Lando, really. It would have taken me much longer to locate the hired car or flag down a taxi. And she needed to be here.”
“Course, mate. No need for thanks. I uh—I didn’t know Max was seeing anyone, though? Bit of a surprise that he has a girlfriend”
Charles barked out a laugh, eyeing the younger male and his leading question. “He does not. Daphne is his friend. And is also his assistant. She only started traveling to races with him this season. If you’re wondering just how much you missed.”
Lando felt a little too seen under the other’s gaze, chuckling awkwardly. “Right, right. She just seemed really concerned. But that makes sense. Tell Max I’ll call him once he’s upright and that I hope he feels better, will you?”
“Absolutely, mon ami. Thank you again.” And with that Charles headed inside, and Lando stewed with his own thoughts the whole drive back to the hotel.
Celebrating felt a little too grim now, so he settled for room service and video games with Fewtrell after begging the other to join him. Three hours into the two-man celebration, he felt his phone buzz in his sweats.
iMessage: unknown number (Maybe: Daphne)
Daphne: Hi Lando, I got your number from Charles. I hope that’s alright. This is Daphne, I realize I still hadn’t ever fully introduced myself? I wanted to thank you for the ride, I realize I ran off before doing so. Max is doing well, and said thank you as well!
Lando: I’m glad to hear he’s doing well! No worries about the ride, happy I could help. Nice to formally meet you too, Tink.
Daphne: I just told you my name??
Lando: I’m aware.
Daphne: Right…. Good night Lando Congratulations on your podium.
Lando: Night, Tink, Sleep tight
Sleep tight? Who the fuck said sleep tight? His groan of annoyance was louder than he anticipated, and drew the attention of Max Fewtrell with his whinging.
“Oi—what was that for? Muck up another attempt with Luisa?”
“No, no. That’s still over. This is…something else.”
“Right.” Max studied him, confusion morphing into a too-wide smirk. “Whatever and whoever that is, you look properly fucked, mate.”
And yeah, he thinks he might just be.
