every weekend the williams car fails and every weekend james vowles says “we’ll make sure this never happens again” and then every weekend the car fails and every w-
genuinely what’s the point of an overtake if the person you’re overtaking can’t do anything to defend like what satisfaction is anyone finding in watching an f1 race where kimi antonelli can just breeze past a 7 time world champion and there’s no defensive action said champion can take to make the fight even a little interesting everyone was frothing at the mouth for a verstappen leclerc russell title fight we just had the three of them within a second of each other just taking turns until someone’s battery farts like how is anyone enjoying this
in the first catboy max ver2 ficlet, I mention that a friend drops max off at rico's. this is that friend :)
2.1k words, not quite gen because there's kissing but it doesn't go past that, established rico/max, virgil/max, catboy max
"—he doesn't always like new people."
Rico's tone is apologetic as he opens the door further, and Virgil toes off his shoes as he steps inside, flashing him a smile.
"I remember. He tried to take a bite out of me when I got too close."
Rico gestures Virgil towards the living room, stepping into the kitchen.
"Water?"
"I'll take one, yeah."
He doesn't see Max anywhere, but that's fairly typical for having visitors over— sometimes Max won't even come investigate, content to hide out in Rico's room until the disturbance is over. He passes the water to Virgil, both of them settled on the couch, bumping his knuckles gently against Virgil's shoulder.
"Doing okay?"
Virgil sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. His hair isn't slicked back for once, a rarity Rico hasn't seen in a while, natural curls held back loosely with a thick hair tie. There's a wrist strap on his left side, one of the many differences between them— Rico doesn't track his sleep as closely during breaks as Virgil does, trying instead to check in with himself naturally each day. Then again, he doesn't have a team of people reviewing his sleep data, so he supposes Virgil has incentive to stay on top of it.
"Growing pains. The new guys and the old guys, they're butting heads. I am constantly in the middle of fights now."
He sounds tired, and Rico watches his eyes close for a second, watches as the weight of being captain lifts for a moment. They're just two friends here, complaining about their jobs.
"Maybe let them fight it out? Sometimes it is necessary."
Virgil presses his lips together in a frown, gaze sliding back up to the ceiling, arms spread across the back of the couch.
"Sometimes it makes it worse. It's just difficult to be the one to decide which situations require it."
Rico doesn't have to lead a team like Virgil does, doesn't quite understand the responsibilities his friend carries on his shoulders, but he knows the bone deep tiredness, the understanding that he needs to keep trudging forward.
He tosses one of his own arms across the back of the couch, bumping his hand gently against Virgil's.
"You'll get through it."
Virgil huffs a soft laugh, but the lines around his mouth soften as he looks over at him.
"Eventually. How's Max? Adjusting okay? I know I dropped him off here without much notice and we haven't talked about it, but,"
He pauses, gaze gentling as he looks at the doorway.
"I couldn't think of anyone else to trust."
Rico follows his line of sight, surprised to see Max peering around the corner, ears pricked forward attentively, eyes wide. He doesn't look nervous like he usually is with strangers in the house, instead he looks like he does when Rico brings home a surprise treat from the butchers shop and he's trying to figure out what it is.
He lets his other hand slide off the arm of the couch, curling his fingers at Max.
"Come here, sweetheart. You remember Virg?"
Max pads closer, tail swishing steadily behind him, a curious chirp sneaking out. His gaze is locked on Virgil even as he gets close enough to lean over the arm of the couch, butting his head against Rico's chin, soft ears brushing against his skin.
Virgil stays still, shoulders relaxed, trying to appear non-threatening, all the things that Rico usually has to instruct his houseguests to do. It makes sense he hadn't told Virgil— after all, Virgil was the one who had taught him several years ago, walking Rico through the hybrid rehabilitation center, explaining his newest off-season initiative.
"Hello, Max."
His voice is soft, gentler than Rico's ever heard it.
"You look much better now than you did when I last saw you, yeah? Verhoeven put some meat on you."
Max chirps again, sitting on the couch, halfway in Rico's lap between him and Virgil. One arm instinctively wraps around his waist, Rico's thumb brushing reassuringly against the curve of his hip, watching his body language. Max leans closer to Virgil, tentatively resting his head against the arm closest to him.
Virgil swallows, other hand slowly reaching over as he settles his fingers gently between Max's ears, petting across his hair. Rico remembers when he'd seen Max for the first time, fresh from being dropped off, still in the identification clothes from the rehab center, terrified in a strange place. He also remembers how brave Max had been, approaching him in the bath— scared, but curious. Trusting Rico not to hurt him.
Rico wonders now if maybe Virgil had been the reason for that trust, seeing his friend soften as he feels Max start to purr.
"He eats practically twice his weight in food, honestly. I don't know where it all goes."
Virgil grins, hand sliding down to pet at the shorter hairs on the back of Max's neck. Max slinks closer to him, tail wrapping around Rico's wrist.
"He was in a bad spot when we found him. Wouldn't let any of us get close, real thin, sharing a space with other cats."
Virgil lets his fingers drift down Max's spine, and he's purring loud enough for them both to hear it.
"He's really settled with you. Haven't you?"
He directs the question to Max, leaning his head down to be eye level, bumping their foreheads together gently, tone soft and teasing.
"Yes, you were trying to be mean when I met you. But I knew that's not who you are."
Rico laughs as Max tips forward playfully into Virgil's lap, snuggling up to him with a rattling purr, eyes curved into crescents as he smiles.
"I've never seen him like this with anyone but me."
He's not jealous— more surprised than anything. Virgil hums as he holds Max at the waist, rubbing small circles as Max scents him.
"I'm not surprised. Snow leopards are picky, but we weren't sure that's what he was at first. It was my idea to isolate him from the other cats, so it was also my responsibility to handle his care and placement."
Virgil drops a brief kiss between his ears.
"I was hand feeding him for a little bit. If I could've taken him in, I think I would've, but it just wasn't an option for me. I didn't trust anyone else to take care of him properly."
Rico understands. His schedule can be hectic, but it's nothing compared to Virgil's, who can't even have a regular hybrid at home, despite his fondness for them. Off-season volunteering with the rehab facility is the closest he can get— besides giving his favorite to Rico, apparently.
He wraps one hand around Max's ankle, squeezing gently as Max makes an inquisitive noise, looking back over at him. He makes a movement back over to him before pausing and looking at Virgil again, and then back to Rico.
He knows what's coming a split second before it happens— Max's loud, complaining meow that follows is entirely predictable to him. Virgil bursts into unexpected laughter, looking incredulously at him.
"I never heard him do that with me."
Rico rolls his eyes fondly, heart swelling.
"He does it all the time mate. Water not hot enough? Complain. I locked him out of the gym to train? Complain. Two minutes past dinner? Complain. I made him come in from the snow? Complain."
He raises an eyebrow at Max, watching the way the tip of his tail flicks, eyes narrowed into an annoyed squint.
"He's about to do it again."
Sure enough— the second one is even louder, a sure sign that Max is getting irritated at whatever it is Rico hasn't fixed. Virgil coos at him, squeezing his waist.
"What? What are you yelling about?"
Max leans towards Rico, but refuses to move off of Virgil, and Rico has spent enough time learning him to know the issue, letting out a bark of laughter.
"He wants to snuggle both of us, I think. We're too far apart."
It's the first time he's ever had this issue, because Max never gets clingy with anyone else. Virgil lifts his catboy up for a moment as he slides closer, eventually resting against Rico's side as he settles Max back down, close enough for him to be on top of both of them, legs thrown across Rico's lap, leaning against Virgil's chest with a content meow.
Virgil glances over at him, chin resting on top of Max's head briefly.
"This okay?"
Rico quirks a grin, running one hand along Max's shin.
"Yes. Whatever makes him happy, you know how it is."
Virgil hums, lifting his head to look down at Max, voice teasingly chastising.
"You got a home and now you are loud and spoiled, I see."
Max blinks up at him, pupils blown, and Rico knows that expression well— has a few seconds where he could stop it, if he wanted. For some reason he doesn't, so he simply watches as Max leans up, fingers curling into Virgil's shirt as he kisses him, taking what he wants. Virgil is clearly surprised for a second, freezing, but Rico is sure to stay relaxed and still, offering no complaints, and a moment later Virgil clearly takes charge, one hand still holding his waist as the other comes back to cup the back of his head, fingers curling into his hair.
Rico knows what it feels like to kiss Max, but he's never seen it. Max melts like liquid into Virgil, making soft noises that he can barely catch but knows perfectly well, purring loudly enough that Rico can feel it through where his legs are draped across his lap.
Virgil finally tugs his head away, even as Max lets out a plaintive whine, and he's already stronger than Rico— he always has to go back a second time, unable to settle with just one kiss.
"Loud and spoiled and greedy."
He looks over at Rico, and he can see the flash of uncertainty in his eyes, worry that he might've overstepped a boundary. He's quick to shut it down.
"He's real pretty like that though. He likes kisses, don't you?"
He directs the last part at Max, who flips to settle his legs across Virgil's lap, leaning up against Rico's chest and kissing him without hesitation, tongue flicking into his mouth, still purring.
He tastes like the chapstick brand Rico knows Virgil likes to use, the honey flavor he pretends he doesn't buy five of at a time, slightly waxy and sweet, and he's already soft and pliant under Rico's hands, easy for it as always.
He tugs Max's head back when he needs air, satisfied at his blown pupils, the content purr from his chest. He presses a quick kiss to his forehead before glancing back over at Virgil, who's clearly been watching. It's not easy to spot, but there's a flush to his cheeks, gaze slightly flustered.
"Sorry he sprung that on you, mate. He's a bit of a slut at home when he's comfortable."
His voice is fond even as he tugs gently at Max's hair, soothing the sting a moment later by brushing at his ears.
Virgil swallows and clears his throat, still looking at the two of them.
"No it's— it's no problem. He's exactly as spoiled as I expected him to be when you said you were keeping him."
He pauses, reaching down to rub a thumb across Max's knee.
"I just didn't expect that to extend to me also."
Rico shrugs, still stroking across his catboy's ears.
"You saved him. And he can tell that I trust you also, clearly. I'm sure as far as he's concerned, this is perfect for him."
Max snuggles into his chest, watching Virgil as his ears twitch, and Virgil reaches to tap at his nose, grinning.
"I knew he would be sweet in the right environment."
Rico nudges his knee against Virgil's, looking at him steadily.
"You can come visit him, you know. He clearly has no complaints, and you know I don't have any either."
Virgil ducks his head down, brushing his fingers through Max's tail.
"I wouldn't want to impose."
Rico makes a considering hum, curious how Max would feel about England.
"Either you come here more, or we will come visit you after a game. But you will be handling the catering cost for all the meat he goes through."
It earns him a raw, startled laugh as Virgil relaxes, and Rico briefly wonders if his wristband catalogues when he's having a good time as well— if Liverpool also tracks that their players are out having fun when they can. He knows he certainly tries to catalogue it, stacking it against the nights he's seen Virgil tired and exhausted, muscles sore and bags under his eyes.
"Well in that case, you might be seeing more of me here."
Crazy how f1 media involves and promote lando, max and lance in spa as their home race (from their mother’s side) despite not racing under the belgian flag YET alex albon is never included as an Englishman when they come to silverstone 🤔🤔🤔
Reminder that Alex has said that f1 media only refers to him as British when he has good results (e.g., London-born Thai) but if he isn’t doing well then he’s just referred to as Thai
