Three Dumb Ideas | Formula 1 fanfiction

107: Teammates and lovers

Thursday

Max's point of view

'Hello you all, take a seat', Horner points us to the conference room.

I walk to the empty chair and sit down. Horner said this meeting is very important for both parties, we even had to call our lawyers.

'Are we fired or something? Bit dramatic a few days before the final race', Maeve jokes.

'No, but we do have to talk about this Sunday', Christian clears his throat.

'Alright, just rip the bandaid and tell us', I sigh.

Horner smiles. 'Maeve and Max, my best drivers ever', he turns to Maeve. 'Don't tell your dad'.

The Abu Dhabi skyline glow is spilling through the window behind Maeve and I can see her leg bouncing slightly under the table.

I want to run over and hug her, kiss her, make her feel comfortable... but I can't.

One of the many things Max couldn't do that week... (subtle foreshadowing)

I fold my arms across my chest, Christian is looking at us both. We've completed our pre-race briefings already so I really have no idea what this is about.

Maeve glances over at me and I give her a slight nod.

Christian decides to clear his throat, breaking the tension and the uncomfortable silence in the room.

'Alright, I want to make this clear from the start. We're entering this weekend with both of you tied at 162 points each. It's been a hell of a fucking season and I'm incredibly proud of how you've both handled yourselves. But now, we're at the final race and things are about to get more complicated'.

Maeve shifts in her seat and I can feel the pressure settle on her shoulders, probably because it's also settling on me. We both have been preparing for this race for weeks and knowing we're now on even points makes everything feel fucking more intense.

'Now, I've spoken to both of you separately about this, but I want to make sure we're all on the same page. Red Bull or me is not picking sides. We're not favoring anyone. It's not picking between a rookie and an experienced driver, not at all', Christian continues. 'I expect you two to race each other cleanly, the team doesn't want to be dragged into any dispute after the race. No lawsuits, no accusations of favoritism'.

He pauses, pulling out two contracts from the folder on his desk and sliding them across to both Maeve and I.

'These contracts are simple. No matter who wins the championship, neither of you can claim any unfair treatment. You won't sue each other or the team for any perceived bias'. He says firmly. 'This is to protect both of you and to protect Red Bull. I don't want to hear any noise after the race about how one of you got better treatment than the other. Understood?'

Maeve's point of view

I pick up the contract and skim through all the legal jargon. My heart is pounding in my chest, not from the words on the page, but from the gravity of the situation. I've been chasing this championship all season, and now, standing on the edge of it, the idea that something could go wrong, some drama with Max or the team, makes my stomach turn.

Max, as usual, remains composed. He looks at the contract for a moment before glancing at me. His expression is unreadable, but there's something in his eyes, a quiet determination, maybe even understanding.

'We're not going to let it come to that, Christian. I think Maeve and I are both professional enough to handle this', Max says calmly.

My eyes flick over to Max, appreciating his confidence. I take a deep breath, my mind racing through every scenario that could unfold during the race. The competition between us is fierce and I know that once we're on track, it'll be every driver for themselves. But Max is right, there's respect between us, even if the stakes have never been higher.

'Yeah, I agree. We've come this far together. We'll keep it clean', I say calmy

Christian leans back in his chair, clearly relieved at our response. 'Good. That's what I wanted to hear. You two have been brilliant all season. The last thing we need is for this to turn into a mess because of off-track issues. The race is what matters'.

He takes a moment to look at both of us, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if weighing their words.

'I know emotions are going to be high out there on Sunday. I expect nothing less than 100% from both of you. But remember, you're teammates first. You've both earned the right to fight for this title, and the team stands behind both of you equally', he says seriously.

I sign the contract, my hand steady, though my heart is still racing. Max does the same, sliding his signed contract back across the table. I take a deep breath, looking at the piece of paper in front of me. This feels like an official acknowledgment of just how close things are between us.

As Christian gathers the contracts, he smiles slightly, trying to lighten the mood.

'Now that the legal stuff is out of the way, let's focus on winning this damn thing. I want Red Bull 1-2 on that podium, no matter what', he grins.

Max leans back in his chair, shooting me a small, knowing smile. 'I guess I'll have to take first, then'.

I roll my eyes, the competitive fire sparking between us again. 'Fuck you, don't get too comfortable, Verstappen. This isn't over yet'.

Christian laughs, though there's still that underlying tension. The race is days away, but the weight of it is already pressing down on all of us. I stand up, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The contract is signed, and the final race is just days away.

As we leave the office, I walk side by side with Max, the two of us silently acknowledging the challenge ahead. It's not just another race, it's the culmination of everything we've worked for. And only one of them can walk away with the title.

But for now, we're still teammates.

Teammates and lovers.