Chapter Text
Yuki had always been certain that Formula 1 was his path in life. No matter how difficult the road ahead might be, he would continue to hold on to the title of an F1 driver. Just like now, back within the confines of Red Bull Racing as a reserve driver, as if he had never learned his lesson from the so-called curse of the second seat.
His return to Formula 1 was not without reason. He still had dreams to chase, even though they had been put on hold by a two-year break. No one knew why he had suddenly stepped down and announced it—no one except Mekies. And Yuki intended to keep that secret tightly guarded. It would be dangerous, not only for himself but also for several others involved, if the media were to uncover what he had managed to hide so carefully over the past two years.
His presence in the paddock drew a great deal of attention. Every camera was fixed on the small Japanese driver. Yuki wasn’t bothered by the media—that had always been part of his life while racing. What unsettled him now were his fellow drivers, watching his every move with curious eyes. Fortunately, he could still avoid them by hiding in the Red Bull garage. There was only one person he couldn’t avoid, no matter how hard he tried: his former teammate, Max Verstappen.
Sharp blue eyes and pheromones of burnt cedarwood with a hint of spice seemed to follow Yuki wherever he went. Even when Max was out on track, Yuki could still feel his presence—persistent enough to disturb his composure. A restless tension settled in him every time their eyes met. Unlike the other drivers who openly threw questions his way, Max simply watched him in silence, his gaze deep and probing, as if searching for answers in the very core of the Japanese driver.
They stood in the same garage, yet not a single word passed between them. The heavy, awkward tension was palpable to everyone inside, but for the sake of keeping the peace, the rest of the crew chose to ignore the two former teammates and focus on their own work.
Yuki was focused on speaking with one of the crew members when Max approached him.
“Yuki,” he called briefly.
Reflexively, Yuki turned around in surprise. “Max. Is there something I can help you with?” Yuki figured it was the appropriate response, given his position as a reserve driver. So it was likely something important about the car or data that needed discussing.
“You came back different,” Max said.
Yuki frowned, confused. What did the Dutch man mean? The crew member who had been talking to Yuki suddenly felt the tension and quietly stepped away, sensing it wasn’t their place to listen in on this conversation between former teammates.
“What do you mean? What’s different?” Yuki asked.
“Everything. You’re quiet—not calm, but rigid. Focused, too focused for someone who isn’t on track. And your pheromones… they’re different.” Max rambled, his hand gesturing slightly as if trying to find the right words to explain his unease.
He wasn’t done. “It’s like you’re a completely different person… unlike the Yuki I know.”
Yuki fell silent for a moment, processing Max’s words before replying, “Then maybe you don’t know Yuki as well as you think.”
He turned to walk away, but his steps halted when Max spoke again.
“I know Yuki well,” Max said firmly. “And this—this is how you act when you’re hiding something. I just can’t figure out what could make your pheromones change.”
Yuki let out a breath. “I’m not hiding anything, and nothing about me has changed. Now go back and focus on your next race.”
“No. It’s been bothering me too much because you smell like… like a pregnant omega. But that’s impossible since you’re a beta, so… I don’t know. You’ve always had very faint cherry blossom pheromones, which was already strange for a beta, but now? It’s stronger, and it’s… different. Like—pregnant.”
The Japanese driver froze. This was the first time he realized that his pheromones had been detectable to Max’s sharp senses all along. He had thought he’d done a good job hiding them with scent blockers. “That’s probably just your imagination,” Yuki said, before continuing to walk away.
Days turned into weeks, and the next race weekend began, meaning Yuki would once again be sharing the same garage with Max.
Tension settled into his body, unease creeping in. Truthfully, ever since that incident, Yuki had been afraid of crossing paths with Max. He wasn’t ready for his secret to be uncovered by the Dutch driver.
Luckily, that morning Yuki managed to completely avoid Max, thanks to Mekies calling him in for a private meeting. There wasn’t anything particularly important to discuss, but according to Mekies, updates about Haru were important and something he absolutely needed to know. Haru, the little girl who had just turned one, had Mekies wrapped around her tiny fingers, and he didn’t mind it one bit. Sometimes Yuki felt like Mekies spoiled her too much, but he was also grateful. Very grateful that Mekies could fill the spaces Yuki couldn’t for Haru on his own.
“I want to see Haru,” Mekies said, his voice full of longing.
Yuki smiled faintly. Seeing his boss practically beg for time with a baby was never something he had imagined. “You can see her anytime. I’ve never forbidden it.”
Mekies let out a tired sigh. If Yuki wasn’t mistaken, the older man was actually pouting. “But the new season has started, and I’ve been so busy.” He rubbed his forehead before his eyes suddenly lit up. “Bring Haru to the paddock. Yuki, bring her to the paddock, please.”
Yuki blinked a few times, his mouth slightly open. “You know I can’t do that. The paddock isn’t a place for a child. And besides, I’m trying to keep her existence hidden. You know what I asked for in my contract.”
“There are plenty of kids in the paddock,” Mekies insisted eagerly. “Fans bring their children, team crew relatives visit, and now there’s even a whole group of mini drivers who’ve become paddock celebrities. Trust me, Haru is going to be safe here, and no one will question her presence. She could be anyone’s child in the paddock. No one will bat an eye.”
Mekies spoke with such enthusiasm that Yuki could practically feel it radiating off him. More excitement than he’d ever seen from the older man, even during victory speeches for his drivers.
Seeing that level of enthusiasm, Yuki didn’t have the heart to refuse. “I’ll think about it.”
Sure enough, the next day Yuki arrived in full Red Bull Racing team kit, Haru in his arms. Tiny headphones rested over her small ears, and she was dressed in navy, matching the jacket Yuki wore.
Whenever people asked whose baby Yuki had brought along, he would answer, “She’s one of the Red Bull Racing crew’s children. As a reserve driver, I have plenty of free time, so I’m helping out as her babysitter.”
Seeing how everyone melted over Haru filled Yuki’s chest with warmth. There was a quiet sense of pride too. After all, Haru was his. Even if, at a glance, they didn’t look alike, the small driver had once felt a bit disappointed about that, considering he had endured nine months of pregnancy and a difficult birth that had risked his life. Still, Yuki was nothing but grateful to have Haru in his life.
There was an advantage to Haru not resembling him. Her thick blonde hair kept people from suspecting she was his, making it easier for Yuki to hide her true identity. But he had forgotten one important thing.
It happened in the afternoon, right after the qualifying session ended and the drivers had to attend their media duties. Reporters crowded around, each chasing their own questions, until Yuki happened to pass by with Haru holding onto his hand. They walked slowly, matching her small, wobbly steps—and that caught a journalist’s attention.
“Hi, Yuki! Can I get a bit of your time, or are you too occupied with the cute baby over there?”
Yuki turned, thinking for a moment before replying, “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’m afraid I can’t take your request. I’ve got things to do.”
He then lifted Haru into his arms and quickly made his way into the garage.
The journalist who had spoken to him only shrugged, muttering to himself, “That baby looks a lot like someone… but I can’t recall who.”
Inside the garage, Yuki let out a relieved breath and set Haru down from his arms. In the corner of the room, he spotted Mekies and Max engaged in what looked like a serious conversation.
Haru, too young to understand the atmosphere around her and only focused on her excitement at seeing Mekies, toddled forward on her still-unsteady little feet toward the Red Bull Racing team principal.
Sensing the small steps approaching him, Mekies shifted his attention toward the little intruder and lit up with delight. “Hi, Haru! Long time no see. Did you miss me? I missed you so much.” He peppered her cheeks and head with kisses.
Max, who had been sitting across from Mekies and had only just noticed the baby in the garage, looked visibly surprised at their interaction. “Did you have a baby?”
Mekies snorted. “No. oh God, no. Even if I wanted to, this isn’t my kid.”
“Then whose?” Max pressed.
“One of the crew brought their child here,” Mekies replied briefly.
“Yeah, but who?” Max insisted. “I’ve never seen her before, and if it were someone from my team, I’d know if they just had a baby.”
Typical Max—always meticulous, always analyzing, always hitting straight to the point.
As if the baby wanted to answer Max’s question, she turned her body to face him and babbled loudly, her tiny arms moving animatedly.
Yuki, who had been distracted with his work, heard Haru’s voice and was about to approach her but immediately stopped when he saw Max watching her so intently. Instead of stepping closer, the Japanese driver moved away, slipping between a group of mechanics deep in discussion, trying to hide himself. He knew Haru would be safe with Mekies.
Haru’s babbling grew louder, almost as if she was complaining that Max wasn’t responding. Her small hands reached out toward him, and the sight drew the attention of several people in the garage. One of the crew casually commented, “Now that I take a good look at her, she kinda looks like you, Max.” He laughed.
Another crew member chimed in, “If you told me she was your kid, I’d believe it. No DNA test needed.”
Yuki stilled, his face turning pale as a ghost, his mind racing. His eyes flicked subtly to gauge Max’s reaction, but as always, the Dutchman wore an unreadable, neutral expression. Yuki slowly loosened his grip, only then realizing he had been clenching his hands so tightly his nails had pressed into his palms. If Max didn’t react, then that was for the best. At least it meant he didn’t care.
Mekies cleared his throat awkwardly, his gaze drifting anywhere but toward Max.
“I don’t think she resembles me,” Max muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Mekies to hear.
Mekies rolled his eyes. Max could be dense sometimes, but for this, he was grateful.
Haru’s sudden, piercing cry broke the tension, startling Yuki and overriding every rational thought with pure paternal instinct. He moved quickly toward his child, lifting her from Mekies’ arms.
Her cries immediately softened the moment she felt the warmth of her papa’s embrace. That alone didn’t escape Max’s notice. He watched how naturally Yuki held Haru, as if it was something he had done countless times before. He noticed the way Yuki instinctively adjusted his posture to soothe her, the gentle murmurs he whispered to let the baby know he was there. All of it was caught by Max’s keen senses.
Silently, Max analyzed everything. And the more details he picked up on, the more it unsettled him. But what disturbed him the most was the unease he had felt the moment Haru started crying. Was that normal—for an alpha, to react like that to a baby’s cries? As far as he could remember, he had never felt anything like it before.
“You can take Haru to my office so she can calm down,” Mekies offered.
Before Yuki could respond, Max cut in, “Just bring her to my motorhome.”
Even Max seemed momentarily caught off guard by his own words. After a brief pause, he added, a bit awkwardly, “It’s more spacious, and it’ll be more comfortable for her. There’s a daybed she can lie on. Well… only if you want to, of course.”
Once again, Max cut in before Yuki had the chance to refuse his invitation. “And where are her parents, though? Shouldn’t we ask for their permission first before we bring her anywhere?”
Mekies answered immediately, far too quickly to be natural. “Her parents already gave permission.”
At the same time, Yuki spoke, voice tight, “They’re busy right now.”
The conflicting answers hung in the air.
Max’s brows drew together as his gaze shifted between them, something sharper settling behind his eyes. “Busy enough to not check where their kid is?”
Seeing neither of them budge, Max let out a breath. “Bring her to my motorhome,” he said, final.
Inside the private space, the silence felt heavy—almost suffocating. They sat across from each other, but neither met the other’s gaze. The smaller driver looked away, choosing instead to focus on Haru in his lap.
Max watched them quietly. He wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions. He observed, stored, and only then connected the dots.
Ten minutes passed in silence, filled only by Haru’s soft babbling.
Max’s gaze lingered on her, on the way her tiny fingers clutched at the fabric of Yuki’s shirt. The way her body relaxed completely in his arms. The way Yuki held her, instinctive, practiced like muscle memory, like something he had done countless times before.
Max’s gaze flicked up to Yuki, then back to Haru.
Blonde hair—not like Yuki’s.
Her features—not quite his either. But her eyes… wide and round, just like Yuki’s, giving her face a softness, a brightness that felt achingly familiar.
And somehow, the more he looked, the more familiar she became.
Too familiar.
Max’s jaw tightened slightly. “What’s her name?”
Yuki startled, not expecting him to break the silence. “…Haru.”
Max repeated it, tasting the name. “Haru.”
His attention returned to the baby and then something clicked.
“You smell like her,” Max said quietly. “That’s why your scent felt different.”
Yuki’s grip on Haru tightened.
Max leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them. Silence stretched for a moment. Then—
“She’s yours.”
It wasn’t a question.