Chapter Text
“Alright, great job guys, that’s all we needed.” Katie–or was it Katherine?–said, clapping her hands and plastering a twinkling smile onto her face.
Lando got up with a groan, these media days filled with endless YouTube videos and TikTok clips always made him unreasonably tired.
He smiled charismatically as best he could at the crew and media team before looking around to realize the seat next to him had already been cleared, the person who had just sat in it gone without a trace.
Lando groaned again, quietly this time. How was Oscar always slipping out so quickly without being noticed?
Katie/Katherine (Lando could never remember her name) patted his arm one last time before he headed out the door.
Max Fewtrell was waiting for him, a tight grimace on his face. “Mate, I don’t know how you do all this PR shit. It’s killing me just watching you.”
Lando scrubbed his hand down his face, “Ugh tell me about it, sometimes I feel like I’m being filmed for social media more than I’m actually in the car.”
He and Max walked slowly through McLaren Hospitality, making their way down to the café, in search of something to eat for lunch.
“Ew,” Lando said, “They’re serving fish today.”
Max just rolled his eyes, stuffing a sandwich into Lando’s hands. “Here, come on,” Max said, “Let’s sit over there.”
After a few minutes of eating contently, Max broke the silence. “How’s that new teammate of yours, mate?” He paused, chewing. “You two didn’t exactly seem like you had any chemistry during that challenge thing you just filmed.”
Lando shrugged, swallowing a big gulp of sandwich that did not contain any fish, thankfully. “He’s fine. Not much to say, to be honest.”
“Yeah, fairs.” Max agreed noncommittally. “Seems like a … decent bloke.”
Lando nodded absentmindedly, focusing more on his sandwich than anything else, really.
It’s not like Lando didn’t like Oscar, per say. He liked to think he just didn’t really know him that well yet. But they were halfway through the season already, and they hadn’t exactly become the best of friends. The only times they spoke to each were during team meetings, interviews, or when they were forced to do some kind of other media bullshit together.
And to be honest with you, Lando didn’t really care. Sure, it was nice that he had had solid relationships with his past teammates, but it wasn’t exactly necessary. As long as they got along, marginally, and weren’t actively fighting each other, then it was fine. That’s all the team needed, for them to work smoothly. At the end of the day, they’d always be competing against each other, teammates or not.
Oscar was just … not his type, so to speak. He was stoic, he just stood there, and he only seemed to smile when the media team called for it. Not to say he was rude, or anything, just definitely not the most outwardly happy to be around.
“What about that bird you were seeing over winter break mate? You still talk to her at all?” Max asked, one cynical eyebrow raised.
Lando almost choked on his sandwich, managing a rough swallow. “What are you on about, Max?”
He just shrugged, looking down at his food. “Just saying, who do you even talk to these days, mate?”
“Uh, you for one.” Lando said, crossing his arms and putting down his sandwich. “And, I don’t know, my family?” Lando too raised his eyebrows, “Where is this coming from exactly?”
“I don’t know,” Max said offhandedly, “Just seems like you don’t really get out much, socialize, and whatnot.”
Lando shook his head in disbelief, “Mate, that is literally my job.”
Max rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean.”
“I sincerely do not.”
“Whatever.” They went back to eating, not saying much to each other. Until suddenly, Max mused, “Lando, I have an idea.”
“Whatever it is, no. I don’t like it.”
“You sound like a child.” Lando huffed. “Right, give me your phone.”
“Are you mad? Why would I do that?”
“Just trust me, it’s brilliant.” Max urged, reached an open palm out for Lando’s phone.
Lando reached into his pocket, begrudgingly handing it over.
Max played with a few things for a bit, all while Lando eyed him carefully. After what seemed like forever, Max passed it back.
“So what exactly have you done?” Lando asked, eyeing his phone suspiciously.
“I downloaded an app.”
“Ok?”
Max put his finger up, “A dating app.”
“Oh what the hell, Max–”
Max stuck his finger out again. “Trust me, I know you, as a Formula 1 driver, can't be on any old dating app. I heard about this from a friend.”
“What kind of friends–”
“It’s completely anonymous. A lot of celebrities use it, apparently. Plus, it doesn’t even just have to be a dating app, if you don’t want it to be. You can just use it to connect with people, I’ve met some nice lads on there that I game with, occasionally.”
“The fuck is this? An ad?” Lando demanded incredulously.
Max rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time. “You know what, give me back your phone.”
“What makes you think I’m going to do that, after you download some stupidass, pirating shit–” Max snatched the phone off the table whilst Lando continued to whinge.
A few seconds later, “There, I’ve set up your profile.” Max says, placing the phone back down, next to Lando’s forgotten sandwich.
“You–what?”
Max gestures at the phone, “Your profile, I set it up for you. Now you have no excuse not to use the app.”
“Oh I can think of plenty of excuses.” Lando disagreed stubbornly, angrily returning to his sandwich.