Chapter Text
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
It's the first thought that pops into Lando's head as his car comes to a halt in front of the P1 sign. He'd been hoping — nay, praying — that Max wouldn’t manage to get past P5 or P4, at most. But no. Max’s medium-soft one-stop strategy had not only succeeded in getting him on the podium: it had succeeded in giving him enough leverage on his soft tyres against Charles’ worn mediums to actually get within DRS range of Charles towards the very end of the race.
Had it not been for Carlos and that late virtual safety car — a ridiculous decision, really, but Lando is not about to look a gift horse in the mouth —, Max probably would have managed to snatch that P2 from Charles before the checkered flag.
And now, he’s honestly not sure if that would have been better or worse. Because the two of them getting to have even some resemblance of an on-track battle would without a doubt add fuel to an already raging fire, and make them both even more insufferable after the race.
Because now, they won’t just yap. They'll yap excitedly about racing each other. Which is, in all honesty, a million times worse than any old debrief between them.
He makes a mental note to text Carlos to send him a payment request the second he gets his hands on his phone as soon as he climbs out of his car.
Planet Carlos. Current population: Lando Norris.
It's a blissful couple of minutes between Lando leaving his car and the three of them having to line up for their post-race interviews. Max and Charles are mere flashes of navy and red in his peripheral vision, and Lando tries not to think about how his relief at the new post-race interview format from last weekend is now coming back to bite him in the ass.
Because this time, he won’t be a physical barrier between the two of them. No, this time, there will be no stopping them. Not when they’re right next to each other, and Lando is the first to be asked questions.
He knows he’s fucked the minute he sees them approach him and James, already deeply engrossed in conversation, to the point where Lando wonders if they'll even register when it's their turn to answer James’ questions.
Max and Charles are yapping so intensely — and so loudly, my God — that Lando is having a hard time giving James his full attention, even as he's trying his best to give an eloquent response to what is, as always with James, an excellent question.
He decides right then and there that he will ask Carlos how much he will charge him to make Planet Carlos his permanent place of residence.
Whatever the amount is, it will cost him less than the emotional damage suffered at the hands of Max and Charles.
He doesn’t even attempt to listen as Max and Charles are asked their own interview questions, already zoned out and nestled up in a nice little blanket cocoon on Planet Carlos in his head. It doesn’t even register to him when Max and Charles are dismissed, and he’s left with James. He promises himself that he’s going to drag his next obligations out for as long as humanly possible to limit the amount of time he has to spend in the cooldown room with them.
***
The cooldown room is, much to Lando’s surprise, not nearly as awful as he had feared it would be. He knows he has his P1 finish, and subsequently the middle seat in the cooldown room, to thank for that. Had it not been for that — had he been stuck on one of the seats at the end, he knows he wouldn’t even have been acknowledged for the entire duration of the cooldown room, by either man. That much is confirmed by Max constantly leaning forward in his seat so he can make eye contact with Charles, even when Lando is an active participant in the conversation.
Lando is glad there’s not a camera pointed directly at his face, because he fails to hold back the urge to roll his eyes at least twice during the whole exchange.
When he’s left on his own not long after, waiting to be announced as the race winner for the podium, he allows himself a second to breathe. A moment of serenity and calm before a potential storm.
And out there, on the top step of the podium — a position Lando will never tire of finding himself in — he lets the comforting melody of God Save The King wash over him. But he knows time is closing in, because in a matter of moments, the champagne celebrations with start. And right before the familiar sound of champagne corks popping, Lando has a split second to make a decision on how to approach what is coming.
Does he try to use himself as a human shield between Max and Charles, and risk the potential of the two of them gleefully teaming up against him, all the while fixated on each other? Or, does he choose self-preservation, and limit the ridicule that could come his way in the group chat later?
In the end, it’s not a difficult choice.
He goes to Jarv, eternally grateful to finally have the man up there with him and allowing him a very plausible excuse to ignore Max and Charles, who — to the surprise of absolutely no one — heads straight for each other.
It’s a successful move, because Lando doesn’t even have to witness the moment where Max appears to turn to spray him, only to be awarded with the most aggressive champagne spray directly into his face by Charles for even daring to consider taking his attention off the Ferrari driver. And with it, Lando doesn’t have to experience the traumatic flashbacks of when Max and Charles did exactly that to him after his first race win in Miami, which the Brit still thinks was attempted murder.
All in all, it’s a podium he can be satisfied with.
The press conference also goes off without a hitch, which is again aided by the fact that Lando is sitting between Max and Charles on the couch, making it impossible for either man to just ignore his existence entirely. It’s a nice change from Austin, where Max and Charles had their entire bodies turned towards each other while Lando was left to fend for himself on one edge of the couch. In fact, he’s so pleasantly surprised that he’s not even considering the fact that the press conference can take a turn for the worse by factors that aren’t Max and Charles.
So when he’s asked about the booing towards the end of the press conference, and then the next reporter goes on to explain exactly why he was being booed, Lando is shocked. A quick glance at Charles and Max confirms that he’s not the only one, as the two are wearing matching expressions of surprise and disgust.
It offers him some semblance of comfort as he tries his best to comment on the statement about the Mexican people believing he’s being handed a potential championship. But if he’s being honest, Lando isn’t able to recollect a single word that comes out of his own mouth afterwards, too caught off guard by the whole occurrence.
Thankfully, that marks the end of the press conference, and as Lando gets to his feet, fully preparing to walk in front of or trail behind the yapping duo out of the room, he’s surprised when there’s a firm hand on his shoulder.
“You should have told that guy to fuck off,” Max tells him, making absolutely zero attempt to lower his voice so that the other people in the room can’t hear him.
Lando turns his head to look at him, blinking in surprise.
“I agree,” Charles says, voice a little lower and more subtle than Max’s, but there’s anger in his eyes when Lando moves his attention to the Monégasque, and he’s shooting the last reporter a dirty look over Lando’s shoulder.
“Idiot,” Max says again, voice as loud as before as he uses his hand on Lando’s shoulder to begin guiding him towards the exit, Charles following close behind them.
It’s a turn of events that is even more unexpected than the reporter and his explanations, and all Lando can do is laugh and nod as he lets himself be guided out of the room and down the hallway by Max’s hand on his shoulder and Charles’ presence behind him.
“Next time,” he offers lightly, without any real conviction. But Max nods sharply at his side.
“Next time,” the Dutchman agrees.
“Next time,” Charles pipes up from behind them, the anger Lando had seen in his eyes transferred to his tone of voice instead.
It’s oddly comforting. And also kind of terrifying.
Lando decides that this — this post press conference moment between the three of them and the wildly conflicting emotions it triggers in him — is one he will keep to himself.
***
Surviving Being Top 3 With Lestappen Support Group
Fernando Alonso
That was very anti-climatic
Fernando Alonso
I’m disappointed
Isack Hadjar
Me too
Yuki Tsunoda
Yeah what the hell was that
Lewis Hamilton
With how close we were to getting an on-track battle between those
two towards the end of the race, I applaud you for leaving them to
their own devices on the podium, Lando.
Carlos Sainz
Don’t think I didn’t see where you went during the interviews with James,
Lando
Carlos Sainz
Accept my payment request
Lando Norris
With pleasure, honestly
Carlos Sainz
Gracias
Oscar Piastri
Enjoy being in the lead in the WDC while it lasts.
Lando Norris
🖕
Oscar Piastri
🖕
Sergio Pérez
Sergio Pérez
In case any of you missed it, GP called Charles Max’s ‘man’ on live television
Sergio Pérez
Just thought I’d let you know
Sergio Pérez
You’re welcome
Sergio Pérez
Bye
Carlos Sainz
See you in 10, Checo!
Alexander Albon
And there go the Tequila Bros.
Alexander Albon
Off to do… Whatever it is they do.
Esteban Ocon
I forgot Checo was still in this chat
Ollie Bearman
Yeah, I thought he’d been removed?
George Russell
Believe me, I attempted to remove him.
George Russell
Several times.
George Russell
But somebody wouldn’t let me.
Carlos Sainz
Go bitch some more on the radio, George
Nico Hülkenberg
🍿
George Russell
Oh, come on! None of you can genuinely believe it was a fair
race today!
The Lestappen Love Child™
Oh, shut up George
Pierre Gasly
🫢
Franco Colapinto
🙊
Liam Lawson
Damn, George, that has to hurt
Fernando Alonso
Kimi 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂
Fernando Alonso
I like this one
Lance Stroll
You like everyone, Fernando
Fernando Alonso
No, but this one can stay
George Russell
Seriously? Is nobody going to admit that there should have been
repercussions for certain people today?
Lewis Hamilton
George.
George Russell
Yes?
Lewis Hamilton
Shut the hell up.
***
“Are they bitching about us again?” Charles asks, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. He’s finally managed to wash the sticky layer of champagne from his skin and it feels like pure heaven.
“Nope,” Max replies lazily from where he’s sprawled across the bed, one arm behind his head. His phone rests on his chest, thumb idly scrolling. “Apparently, we weren’t that bad today.”
A wet towel suddenly smacks him square in the face. Max yelps, jerks upright, and pulls the towel away just in time to see Charles standing at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips.
“... What?” Max says in a small voice, blinking up at him. He locks his phone and lets it fall to the mattress beside him.
“We weren’t that bad,” Charles repeats slowly. “Because you ignored me on the podium.”
“Ignored you?!” Max’s eyes widen. “Baby, I didn’t ignore you.”
“You turned away from me,” Charles insists.
“Yeah, because —,”
“I had to chase you,” Charles cuts in, brows raised.
“Yeah, and then you fucking drowned me,” Max mutters under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Max says quickly, trying — and failing — to hide the small, guilty grin tugging at his mouth. He then lifts his hand and gestures for Charles to come closer. When he does, Max wraps his arm around him and pulls him close. He rests his chin on top of Charles’ head and says, “Does it help to know GP made us insufferable today by calling you ‘my man’ on live TV?”
“Hmpf,” Charles hums, waving a lazy hand. “It’ll do, I guess.”
“Good,” Max pats Charles’ hip. “We’ll be extra insufferable next time, okay?”
“That better be a promise,” Charles replies with a loud yawn.
Max snorts. “You know it is.”