Chapter Text
It was one of those sticky, hot evenings, with the air thick and damp from the sea breeze.
All the drivers had gathered for their usual grid dinner at some tucked-away restaurant in Monaco, one last chill night before the second half of the season kicked off.
Laughter echoed in the private room, glasses of wine clinking, the chaos of twenty young rich men just trying to relax and reconnect before the pressure turned back on.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, Lando and Oscar were deep in conversation with Carlos, Alex, and a few of the rookies.
Lando leaned forward, wine glass in hand. “Mate, you wouldn’t believe the PR meeting we had today. Absolute madness.”
Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Ay, cariño, you’re always so dramatic.”
Oscar shook his head. “He’s not exaggerating this time. They locked us in a room for two hours… for a presentation on yaoi.”
Alex blinked. “Wait, isn’t that, like, some kind of manga thing?”
The group instinctively turned toward the youngest drivers. Isack Hadjar jumped in, deadpan: “Yes. It’s a Japanese genre focused on romantic and sexual relationships between male characters,” he said, sounding like he was reading straight from Wikipedia, complete with exaggerated air quotes and an eye roll.
Lando raised his glass again. “Exactly. And they made us sit through a full-blown PowerPoint on fanfictions, ship names, tropes… the whole shebang.”
That earned a round of laughter from the table.
Carlos chuckled. “I remember getting lectured about that stuff when I first joined Ferrari.”
Alex nodded. “And again this year at Williams.”
“Same at VCARB,” Hadjar chimed in, raising his beer.
Carlos smirked wickedly. “At this point, it’s basically part of every team’s basic PR packet. I thought everyone knew.”
Oscar groaned. “We did. But apparently ‘Landoscar’ is climbing the ‘AO3 Top 100 Ships’ chart or something like that this year.” He shook his head in disbelief.
Lando grinned. “Can you believe they’re coaching us on how to act more ‘shippable’? All so we can dethrone those two.”
He nodded toward the far end of the table. Everyone turned to see Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen talking animatedly, hands flying — in other words, Maxplaining and Leclarifying — completely oblivious to the conversation happening around them.
From across the table, Ollie and Kimi yelled in unison: “LESTAPPEN?”
The whole table erupted with laughter.
Alex practically choked on his drink. “Oh man. No one, and I mean no one, is beating that,” he said, raising his arms and gesturing wildly at the pair of drivers, who had just now started to notice the commotion.
Carlos wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and looked straight at Lando. “Trust me, it’s impossible! I mean, we flirted openly for two years as teammates, remember?”
Alex chimed in. “Ohhhh, I remember ‘Carlando’! I also remember that back then those two could barely look at each other without scowling and still one glare between them and boom… the internet went feral”, he added miming a giant explosion. “Look, they’re mocking us even now.”
Everyone looked again. Charles and Max were leaning closer, grinning like idiots.
Charles, noticing the stares, laughed. “Oh come on, we’re not even doing anything!”
Max joined in, sneaking an arm over the back of Charles’s chair. “Yeah, what do you want from us? It’s just the whole ‘rivals to lovers’ thing… the fans eat that up. We don’t even hang around each other that much in the paddock!”
From the other end of the table, Lewis Hamilton raised an eyebrow. “Kids,” he muttered, shaking his head.
Fernando Alonso leaned over and whispered, grinning, “Careful, old man, or I’ll give Britney a call.”
Lewis scowled. “Don’t even say the name. Ewww.”
That set off another wave of laughter.
Lando cleared his throat. “Anyyywaaay,” he said, reclaiming the floor, “McLaren’s PR team is very confident in Landoscar. They think that at this rate, we’re gonna overtake Lestappen by the end of the year.
He nodded proudly. “They showed us graphs, charts, some terrifying spreadsheets I didn’t fully grasp, but they looked impressive to me.”
He sipped his wine and smirked. “So, how about this: why don’t we make it a bet? The couple that gets more fanfics written over the next race weekend… has to lend the other pairing their favorite sports car for a month.” He leaned back. “What do you think, Verstappen? Ready to part with your precious Valkyrie?”
Ollie and Kimi shouted together: “Ooh, spicy!”
Charles and Max looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Then Max grinned. “Game on, Norris.”
From the side, Oscar dropped his face into his hands. “Oh god,” he muttered. “What have I gotten myself into…”