Work Text:
It was Halloween in the paddock, and the marketing team knew it. Everyone was gathered around with their tablets and presentations, pitching different ideas for possible activities the drivers could do. Voices overlapped as people chimed in, suggesting and rejecting options in quick succession.
“I think we could do a photoshoot and maybe some short videos in costumes — could be a group thing or individual ones, something that stays within the bounds of what’s appropriate, of course,” suggested one of the social media managers, twirling their lanyard between their fingers while flicking through sheets of paper filled with costume ideas.
Several people nodded, murmuring in agreement among themselves.
“Alright then, it’s settled — we’ll do a Halloween-themed photoshoot,” announced the head of the team.
“Now we just need to decide what they’ll dress up as. Any ideas?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked around the room. The group began whispering tentative suggestions, none of which sounded convincing enough.
Ideas flew across the table — films, TV shows, even food or random objects — each one more ridiculous than the last. Frustration started to build as nothing seemed quite right.
Then, a hand went up amidst the murmurs, catching everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to the owner — a relatively new intern, young, with chestnut hair tied up in a high bun streaked with golden highlights.
“How about… orcas?” she asked once she was given the floor, even standing up from her seat. Everyone looked at her with curiosity and mild confusion, so she quickly began to explain her idea. “We could use costumes inspired by orcas — face paint and all that,” she said calmly.
“If I may ask, where did that idea come from?” one of the team members asked.
“I saw a fan edit — to sum it up, it showed clips of the boys driving in perfect sync while chasing Kimi Antonelli, with shots of orcas in between. In the description, it said — and I quote — ‘Being hunted by the McLaren boys is like being hunted by orcas.’ Most of the comments were positive, praising the similarity. I think we could make the most of that and turn it into something eye-catching and memorable,” she finished before sitting back down, taking a sip of her cold coffee as she watched her colleagues’ reactions with a calculating look.
The rest of the room fell silent, processing the explanation before they began nodding and clapping with renewed energy and excitement.
“That’s an excellent idea — it’s settled, then! I need two of you to look for orca-inspired costumes, another two to find make-up artists and stylists, and the rest of us will sort out the location and decorations for the photoshoot,” the head of marketing announced with a decisive clap, a bright smile lighting up her face as she dismissed the team.
Everyone started leaving the meeting room, chatting among themselves about the next steps.
“I’ll send the plans to the boys then, so they can get ready and mentally prepare,” she murmured to herself once everyone had gone, phone already in hand as she opened the contact of the first driver she found.
Lando and Oscar were in McLaren’s lounge area, each doing their own thing. The Brit was listening to music, tapping his feet to the rhythm of the song — feet that dangled off the sofa where he was lying down, his head resting against one of the armrests. His eyes were closed, dozing lightly, if the soft little sighs escaping him were anything to go by.
Oscar, meanwhile, was sitting on one of the single sofas, barefoot, his feet resting on one arm of the chair while his back leaned against the other. A random book lay open on his lap, though he wasn’t really reading it — more focused on glancing at Lando every now and then. He felt a quiet warmth in his chest at the sight of the shorter man looking so peaceful, the calmness so infectious it almost lulled him to sleep as well.
As his eyelids began to close, Oscar jumped slightly at the shrill sound of his phone ringing — the volume set to maximum. Even with headphones on, Lando could hear it, blinking his eyes open groggily.
“Sorry,” Oscar apologised, cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment for breaking the little bubble of peace they’d been wrapped up in.
With a wave of his hand, Lando brushed it off, smiling lazily as he stretched out on the sofa like a cat. His hoodie lifted just enough to reveal his flat, well-defined stomach, and Oscar quickly looked away, answering the phone while trying to clear his mind of the image of Lando’s tanned — and probably soft — skin now on display.
While Oscar listened intently to the call, Lando decided to take off his headphones, pausing the music and finally getting up from the sofa he’d been lying on for quite a while. He stretched his sleepy legs and let out a yawn, the last traces of drowsiness still clinging to his system.
Another five minutes passed, mostly consisting of Lando listening to Oscar talk on the phone, watching with a small smile the expressive faces the Australian pulled — perfectly matching the mix of ironic and casual comments he was throwing at whoever was on the other end of the line.
The only things Lando managed to catch from the call, just enough to piece together what it might be about, were mentions of a photoshoot, and apparently a fan edit.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to be fairly certain that the call had to be from the marketing team.
Two minutes later, Oscar hung up the call, letting out a long sigh as he looked up at the ceiling before turning to face Lando, who was waiting eagerly to find out what the call had been about.
“So, tell me — how much do you like orcas?” Oscar asked, slipping his phone into the pocket of his black shorts and crossing his arms, his body now fully turned towards the older of the two.
Lando raised his eyebrows, caught off guard by the odd question. He took a moment to process Oscar’s words before replying.
“Uh, I don’t really know much about them. I know they’re, like, huge dangerous dolphins that swim in pods — that’s about it. Why did you ask?” he said, pulling up distant memories of childhood documentaries about the animals.
The taller man ran a hand down his face, looking mildly annoyed and a little tired at whatever the marketing team was about to make them do.
“Well, apparently the team saw some fan edit on TikTok — honestly, TikTok, can you believe that? Anyway, they’ve decided that for Halloween — which, by the way, falls on Friday — we’re doing a photoshoot dressed as orcas,” Oscar explained, pacing across the room to a mini fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and a can of Monster. He handed the energy drink to the Brit and opened the water for himself.
“Seriously? And how do they plan on doing the costumes? Uh… maybe like those inflatable ones, you know which ones I mean? That’d be funny,” Lando said, cracking open the can and taking a big sip — one that left Oscar a bit dazed. “Thanks, by the way.”
“I have no idea, love, but they’ll probably give us sweets to hand out around the paddock or something, so I guess that’s not too bad… as long as we don’t think about how humiliating it’ll be to wear the costumes in front of everyone,” Oscar explained, trying with all his might to stay positive.
His face said the exact opposite, a scowl firmly planted there.
Lando laughed, amused by the situation. Moving closer to Oscar with a dimpled grin, he cupped his face in his large, warm hands, gently cradling his cheeks with tenderness.
Oscar felt his features soften under Lando’s touch, closing his eyes at the light caresses the other’s fingers left on his cheekbones.
“Come on, Osc, it won’t be that bad. They’ll probably make the rest of them do something silly for Friday too — who knows, maybe their costumes will be even more ridiculous than ours,” Lando tried to reassure him, slowly drawing the Australian’s face toward his own, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
The younger man accepted the kiss immediately, letting his arms fall to the Brit’s hips, gripping firmly over his clothes, tasting the faint flavour of the Monster Lando had been drinking.
They kissed for a few seconds, enjoying the warmth of each other, alternating between soft and slightly rougher kisses, caressing each other’s torsos with familiarity and ease, taking their time without rushing or wanting to go too far.
After all, they were still in a public space.
Oscar was the first to break the kiss. Still holding Lando’s waist, he took a long breath, looking at his lover’s glossy, slightly red and swollen lips with a satisfied smile, those blue eyes shining with affection and desire.
Lando did the same as he pulled back, admiring the flushed skin of Oscar’s cheeks and nose, those chocolate eyes half-lidded with happiness, and that wet, delicious smile he loved to kiss.
Suddenly, a knock on the door brought them back to reality, shattering the small bubble of love they’d created. A staff member entered after a few seconds, tablet in hand, sunglasses resting on his head.
“Guys, they want you downstairs in ten minutes to take measurements for the costumes,” he announced before waving with his only free hand and leaving.
“Well, baby, show time,” Lando exclaimed with a smile, giving one of the Australian’s cheeks a gentle squeeze before stepping ahead and moving toward the exit first.
“Ten minutes, didn’t he say? Why go now?” Oscar murmured, following Lando, who paused at the door, hand on the knob, turning his head to raise an eyebrow at the taller man.
“Yeah, ten minutes isn’t much. We could go now unless… tell me, Oscar, what do you plan on doing with them?” Lando asked teasingly, emphasising Oscar’s name with a playful lilt.
Oscar stepped close enough that Lando had to take a step back, bumping against the door behind him. Now cornered, Oscar placed his hands on Lando’s warm body again, tracing his figure from chest to waist and hips, slipping under his clothes to rest between Lando’s bare stomach and the waistband of his trousers.
He moved his face to the side of Lando’s head, blowing lightly into his ear before whispering in a voice that made the shorter man shiver.
“Maybe we could stay here, kissing until the ten minutes are up. If you want, you can even set an alarm so we don’t lose track of time,” Oscar murmured, kissing Lando’s jaw before pulling back just enough to meet those sparkling blue eyes, full of hunger and mischief.
“Well, well, Mr Piastri, the Halloween season has made you braver. Let me think…” Lando said, smiling like a kid in a candy shop before continuing. “Alright, I’ve thought about it. I’ll accept, but I’m not setting an alarm — we’ve got enough control to know when it’s time to go,” he finished, running his hands up Oscar’s arms to rest on his shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze before continuing to the neck, placing his thumbs at the junction of jaw and ears.
Oscar exhaled amusedly before leaning in again, noses brushing lightly as their warm breaths mingled, catching a mix of his own scent and Lando’s.
“Fine, but I don’t want to hear you complaining later when we get told off for being late,” Oscar murmured against Lando’s red lips, biting and tugging the upper one slightly before sucking and diving into a hungry kiss.
Lando let out a gasp — possibly a small complaint — matching the kiss with the same intensity as the Australian. Eyes closed, they fell back into their own bubble, sharing all the love they had for each other through kisses and caresses.
That’s how they arrived almost forty minutes later — panting, flushed, hair messy, clothes slightly wrinkled, lips swollen like magazine makeup models.
The team who’d called them, used to their pilots’ antics and tardiness, simply sighed in defeat, scolding the pair like children before the staff in charge of taking measurements set to work professionally.
Oscar and Lando, for their part, tried to stifle their laughter, at least to avoid another long lecture about punctuality and the “need” to save couple’s activities (read: making out) for free time, away from working hours.
Once they’d had their measurements taken, both drivers were immediately sent off to fulfil their media duties — first giving separate interviews and then a joint one. They filmed a couple of short videos in between and took loads — loads — of photos for social media.
After a brief break to freshen up before the press conference with the other drivers, they each headed to their respective driver rooms, where they could lie down and relax for a few quiet minutes.
Lando was the first to get bored, deciding to pay a visit to the Australian, whose room was right across from his. Smiling, he knocked on the door and was promptly welcomed into the taller man’s space.
“Oscar, I’m bored,” was the first thing Lando announced as he entered, throwing himself on top of the other man’s body, careful not to hit him too hard.
Piastri sighed with a smile, feeling far too comfortable to even pretend to be annoyed, wrapping his arms around Lando like a koala, holding the older man tightly against his chest.
“Media day is always boring, but we’re nearly done. Just the group interviews left. Who are you with today? I’ve got Alonso and Bearman,” Oscar mentioned, absentmindedly tracing his fingers over Lando’s back through the fabric of his shirt.
Lando pouted, lightly hitting Oscar’s chest in mock protest.
“Lucky you, I got George and Alex,” Lando complained dramatically, pretending to cry into Oscar’s chest, which shook slightly with quiet laughter.
“But they’re your friends, aren’t they? You should be happy—at least you didn’t get stuck with someone boring,” Oscar tried to console him, smiling in amusement at Lando’s theatrics.
“Yeah, but they’ll be too busy making heart eyes at each other. Makes me sick. Even those clips of you from last year aren’t as cheesy as those two, and that’s saying something,” Lando exclaimed, absently running his hand over the Australian’s shoulders.
Oscar pretended not to have heard the last part of his boyfriend’s words, ignoring the heat rising in his cheeks at the thought of the huge number of clips showing him giving Lando heart eyes.
The Australian was surprised the FIA hadn’t asked about them yet, or worse, that the more conservative countries hadn’t fined them or done something even more drastic.
He coughed lightly before speaking again, gently pushing Lando until they were both sitting, legs slightly tangled.
“Well, I haven’t seen any new clips of myself, so I must be getting a bit better at being discreet,” Oscar murmured, running his fingers through Lando’s soft, defined curls, tugging gently to loosen them, only to watch them spring back into shape.
“Yeah, I guess so, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss your looks,” Lando murmured in a whisper, staring anywhere in the room except at Oscar.
Oscar, delighted by the older man’s words, smiled warmly, cupping Lando’s flushed, embarrassed cheeks with his cold, small hands, bringing their gazes together — both sparkling with affection and intimacy.
“The fact that there aren’t as many clips doesn’t mean I don’t keep seeing you. I always see you, even when you’re not here. When I close my eyes to sleep, you’re always there,” he exclaimed, his voice sincere and full of love.
Lando was as red as a Ferrari, burning all the way up to his neck from the younger man’s words, feeling his throat tighten and his own words getting caught between his tongue and teeth.
“God, you’re worse than Alex and George, but I love you,” Lando murmured, kissing Oscar’s nose before standing up completely.
“We should probably get going. Don’t want to be late again, do we?” he asked, his tone playful.
Oscar let out a small laugh, getting up from the uncomfortable bed to follow Lando out of his room.
“Well, I wasn’t the one who refused to set an alarm because I trusted my self-control too much,” Piastri shot back, laughing at the older man’s still-red, offended face as he took the lead.
“Don’t think it’s going to end like that!” Lando called after him, walking in the opposite direction, since their next interviews were on different sides of the paddock anyway.
Oscar suspected that might have been intentional, to stop them from causing mischief together — he had no proof, but no doubts either.
After watching Oscar head off in his direction, Lando began walking toward where his interview partner was waiting, touching his face along the way, trying to calm the blush heating his cheeks and leaving a silly smile on his face.
He failed when the Australian’s words echoed in his mind again, raising his temperature all the way to his neck, chest aching with love, and heart hammering fast and relentless.
He quickened his pace until he reached the press area set up for him and the other two drivers. Alex and George were already seated, chatting animatedly while the reporters and cameramen got ready with their questions, notes, and front-page shots.
Taking his assigned seat, his cheeks still warm and red, he ignored the curious glances from his friends and offered a general greeting to the whole room, spotting his manager at the back of the crowd — watching him with a kind yet firm expression.
“What a surprise to see you early, mate,” George remarked with a teasing smile, earning a few laughs from around the room.
“Yeah… guess I didn’t run into any distractions on the way,” he replied quietly, taking a sip of his Monster.
Alex snorted, while George smirked knowingly.
“So Oscar’s over on the other side, got it,” Alex muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the three of them to hear.
Lando blushed even harder, pouting at his two friends before laughing and giving Alex a light kick — he was the only one within reach, with George sitting all the way at the other end.
“Enough, you two aren’t much better than Oscar and me,” Lando shot back, pointing an accusing finger at his friends.
Both Alex and George exchanged bored looks, ignoring the younger driver’s complaints. The three of them wore faint smiles, amused by their little pre-work banter.
After a few more minutes of ridiculous back-and-forth between the trio, the reporters finally began their work, taking turns asking the three drivers questions — about the races, the cars, the championship, the season. One by one, they answered.
Lando took a sip of the water bottle left at his feet before the conference started, feeling bored after sitting there for nearly twenty minutes. Having only answered about five questions so far, he was already tired and a bit overwhelmed, desperate to leave, even knowing that once this was over, he’d still have to film more content for social media and press.
He looked up when one of the reporters — a fairly new face, as Lando still hadn’t learnt his name — called out to him, holding a small notepad in one hand and a pen in the other.
“A question for you, Lando. Tell me, has McLaren planned any activities for the fans now that Halloween’s around the corner? And if so, can you give us a little hint? Thanks,” The reporter finished his question with a polite smile, waiting for Lando’s reply.
The McLaren driver licked his lips, the microphone swaying lightly in his hands as he tried to form his answer. He thought of the costumes being made for them, the makeup artists arriving tomorrow, and the photographers who’d be there. A smug grin crept onto his face.
“Actually, yes — they have planned something. We were told about it recently, but Oscar and I are still waiting to see the results. All I can say is that it’s… a bit unusual, costume-wise,” He replied simply, leaving the possibilities — and expectations — hanging in the air.
The reporters all raised their hands, eager to ask more questions — pressing him for any extra detail — but Lando held his ground, dodging cleverly and steering the conversation away with open, vague answers.
The next few minutes passed with him no longer talking about the Halloween activities, instead answering questions about the championship and the races. Bored out of his mind, he started fiddling with the bracelets on his right wrist, doing so until the press conference finally came to an end. The moment it was over, Lando literally bolted from the room, heading straight back to McLaren’s hospitality — where, if he was lucky, Oscar would already be waiting.
He searched the main lounge for his beloved Aussie, pulling a disappointed face when he couldn’t find him. He wandered over to the catering area, rummaging through the various snacks until he found something light to keep him occupied until lunch. On his way back to his room, Lando ate a small protein bar — dry as hell, but tasty enough.
Once inside, he grabbed his phone and a bottle of cold water waiting on the tiny sofa. He stepped out again and made his way toward the edge of the team’s hospitality area, deciding that the best way to kill time until Oscar returned was to take a walk around the paddock.
And so he did. Lando wandered aimlessly, stopping whenever a fan approached — signing caps, taking photos, giving short interviews to reporters who caught him, and having small chats with other drivers and staff.
Unnoticed, two hours passed while he meandered around, completely distracted, until his phone vibrated in his pocket, interrupting a mini improvised interview with a reporter who’d approached him. He apologised and stepped aside to answer, a wide smile spreading across his face as he recognised the personalised ringtone.
“Oscah! Have you finished the press conference? Where are you? Shall we have lunch together?” Lando began, heading back toward the McLaren area, hoping that’s where the Australian was.
“Yes, mostly done. They still want me to do a few separate interviews, but they can wait until later. I’m in my room right now. I went to yours, but you weren’t there, hence the call. I’d love to have lunch with you, Lan,” Oscar replied, making Lando smile as he quickened his pace.
“On my way. Save me something good from today’s menu, please. See you there.”
“Of course. I think there’s a salad with some protein and fibre today. I’ll save you a plate. Love you,” Oscar said, hanging up.
Lando laughed as he ended the call and started jogging toward where the orange shone brightest.
Once back, he walked straight past the entrance to the dining area and saw Oscar already seated at a table with two trays of lunch ready, eating slowly while glancing at his phone — probably checking social media or catching up on news.
“Hi,” Lando greeted with a huge, radiant smile, taking the seat beside him and eyeing the food hungrily. “Thanks for saving me one, you’re a darling,” he murmured after settling in, planting a quick kiss on Oscar’s cheek.
Oscar nodded, cheeks puffed out with food still in his mouth, his brown eyes sparkling with affection. He swallowed before replying.
“Well, I can’t just let you go hungry, can I? Besides, I figured you’d go for a walk to distract yourself a bit after the press conference. How was it?” he asked, taking another bite with his fork gracefully.
Lando mirrored him, picking up his cutlery and eating slowly so as not to overdo it.
“Boring. Questions about whether I felt the pressure of the championship, the next races, anything new with the car — the usual. Though someone did ask me about Halloween activities. I kept them guessing by saying we had something planned, but that it was a surprise until tomorrow,” he said with a slightly mischievous smile, making Oscar laugh.
“Well, I’m glad at least that happened to you. For me, this has been one of the worst conferences. I wanted to sleep through all the questions. Some even had to be repeated. I was distracted and sleepy. I’m still a bit tired, actually.”
To prove his point, Oscar let out a long yawn, covering his mouth out of courtesy, little tears forming at the corners of his eyes from the effort. Lando sighed affectionately, gently rubbing the younger man’s shoulders.
“Well, once we finish the day, we can head back to the hotel and sleep until tomorrow. And speaking of the future, tomorrow’s Halloween — will the costumes be ready by then? Because after thinking about it so much, I’m genuinely curious to see how they’ll look. Hopefully they won’t be too ridiculous; Max wouldn’t let me live it down if they were,” Lando said, already halfway through his lunch while Oscar was finishing his.
“I like your plan, I’m in,” Oscar confirmed, smiling as he sneakily stole a slice of radish from Lando’s salad. Lando protested and argued, of course, playfully, against him.
Laughing and teasing each other, their lunch passed in a flash, leaving them just enough time to let the food settle before returning to their press duties.
With the day finally over and free from obligations, both of them were now at the hotel, showered and in their pyjamas. They lay together on the double bed, arms and legs entwined, sharing each other’s warmth with gentle caresses, sleepy kisses, and soft whispers mixed with warm, affectionate laughter.
“Good night, Osc,” Lando murmured in a hoarse voice, sleepy, leaving one last kiss on the small patch of Oscar’s collarbone visible thanks to their loose matching pyjamas.
Oscar smiled against Lando’s messy curls, pressing a kiss between them as his nose inhaled the soft, slightly sweet scent of the Brit’s hair product.
“Good night, Lando,” he murmured into the other’s hair, closing his eyes and letting himself be carried away by the warm call of sleep alongside his partner.
The next day, they got up — Lando first, followed by Oscar. They went through their morning routine, showered, brushed their teeth, and had breakfast at the hotel before catching the transport back to the bustling paddock, where new activities awaited them, including the photoshoot with the costumes.
To their huge surprise and admiration, the costumes were already ready, with just a few minor adjustments left to be made — details they would finalise once they were wearing them.
They entered the team’s hospitality area and were immediately guided by two PR and marketing staff into the meeting room, where other colleagues and guests were already gathered, probably the stylists and photographers. Everyone was seated, some holding cups of coffee, a box of donuts on the table.
In the centre of the table were two orange boxes with a black bat on the lid, each labelled with their respective numbers — 4 and 81 — shining in bright orange against the bat.
“All right, here’s the plan: your costumes are in these boxes. Try them on and immediately let us know if anything is too tight or too loose. Don’t dirty them, and absolutely don’t tear them. Once any issues are fixed, you’ll be made up and styled, then you’ll have some photos taken for social media, and finally, you’ll do a few interviews. Walk around, show yourselves, and shine,” explained the marketing team leader firmly and professionally, leaving no room for complaints or doubt.
Both Oscar and Lando nodded at the orders of the intimidating woman, each taking their box to their private rooms to change into their costumes.
Lando opened his box with trembling hands from anticipation, setting the lid aside before unfolding the protective paper. At first glance, it looked like a standard black-and-white formal outfit. His stomach sank with disappointment, but he continued, carefully lifting the costume by the shoulders, stretching it upwards, and was surprised as the fabric kept extending.
The costume turned out to be completely different from what he initially thought: it came in three parts, with a soft, simple white blouse and a matching black jacket long enough to reach his knees, bishop sleeves giving a slightly Victorian touch. The trousers fell lightly over his legs, fitted at the waist and hips to accentuate them perfectly. The shoes, also custom-made, slipped on easily, making him feel for a brief moment like Cinderella and her glass slipper — except he wasn’t a princess, more like a killer whale interpretation.
He checked himself in the mirror once he’d finished adjusting the outfit, amazed at the incredible craftsmanship despite the short notice. At thigh height on the jacket, subtle white waves accentuated the orca design.
Lando pulled up images of orcas on his phone, marveling at the subtlety with which the costume mirrored the animal. Suddenly, he felt a deep respect for those who had crafted it.
He gave himself one last look in the mirror — not to boost his ego further, just to ensure everything was perfect — before leaving his room and heading back to the team.
He walked into the room with confidence, grinning as he met the proud, satisfied gazes directed at him. At the same time, Oscar entered, a small smile revealing his genuine appreciation for the costume.
“Well? How does it fit?” asked one of the guests, presumably one of the costume designers.
Oscar was the first to speak, unconsciously adjusting his collar even though it was already perfectly neat.
“It’s good — comfortable and light to wear, not tight but not loose either. I haven’t really dressed up for Halloween in years,” he said, standing near the door.
Lando’s eyes widened, hungry and admiring the attractive Australian he was lucky enough to call his boyfriend. Oscar looked impeccable, elegant, even sensual; his waist accentuated more than in his racing suit, shoulders broad, perfectly complementing his strong, upright frame, radiating confidence. If he weren’t surrounded by other people, Lando might have knelt right there in front of him.
“Good, I’m glad,” the designer continued. “Lando? Your thoughts?”
Lando snapped out of his daze, feeling his cheeks warm under the gazes aimed at him. Oscar’s eyes were the most intense — and Lando guessed that the Aussie had noticed his own equally intense stare. Hunger and desire shimmered in those dark brown eyes.
“Uh, well… It's comfortable and easy to wear. It’s impressive how much it resembles an orca,” he said, still recovering from the exquisite sight of Oscar.
“Excellent. Now take a seat and stay put. Once you finish here, head to the terrace for a few photos before being free to wander the paddock. Don’t remove your costumes until at least four o’clock — it’s ten now, so you need to stay impeccable for six hours, at the very least four. Can I count on you to follow that?” the team leader explained again, raising an eyebrow at the two drivers now seated.
Both nodded with small sounds of agreement, letting the stylists manipulate their faces and hair as they worked quickly and professionally.
Lando closed his eyes and let himself be carried away by the feeling of hands tidying his hair and prepping his face for the makeup they were applying. He relaxed enough to start dozing off, listening to the pleasant chatter between the stylists.
Twenty minutes later, Lando was ready, accepting the mirror they handed him to see the results.
Still burning with the urge to look, he held himself back, deciding instead to turn to Oscar, who had finished at the same time as him.
And, once again, just like when he saw him enter in the costume, Lando was left speechless, admiring his boyfriend’s beauty. His face was now painted in white and black, resembling an orca, and his hair styled so that his fringe waved to the sides, making him look even more handsome than before. His normally dark eyes were now almost entirely black thanks to the magic of the makeup.
Lando let out a whistle, smiling with his arms crossed at Oscar.
“Look at you, Osc, worthy of a killer whale,” he joked, drawing small chuckles from the stylists who were already packing up and tidying their brushes, paints, and all the tools they had used.
“You don’t look bad yourself — you look incredible,” the Australian said, smiling as his gaze swept up and down the shorter man.
Lando smiled, his cheeks growing a little warm under Oscar’s scrutiny, secretly enjoying the attention the other was giving him.
“Well, we should probably head to the terrace and get the photo session over with. I think walking around the paddock dressed like this could actually be pretty fun,” Oscar said after a few seconds, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked at the Brit from head to toe.
The couple then made their way toward the team’s terrace, receiving friendly jokes and compliments from other team members along the way. Both of them smiled, happy and at ease — comfortable in their costumes and makeup, genuinely pleased with how the marketing team’s plan was turning out.
Once on the terrace, both began posing, taking pictures left and right—together and alone—shots ranging from playful and funny to serious and professional. A little bit of everything to keep the fans happy and satisfied.
That’s how they spent about half an hour, having fun between laughs until the photographers, proud of the results, left to edit and review the photos before publishing any of them.
Finally freed from the photo session, both McLaren drivers headed out of the team’s hospitality area, practically shooed away by the crew so they could show off and enjoy their costumes without being completely recognized.
They were stopped by a few reporters who managed to recognize them. With smiles and jokes, they answered the questions being thrown at them.
“Yeah, this is something the team came up with. I think it’s one of the most fun things we’ve done together so far, don’t you think, Oscar?” Lando asked with a mischievous grin, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at the younger one.
Oscar let out a small laugh, smiling at the reporter while elbowing his teammate before replying.
“Yeah, I think so. Sure, the makeup’s a bit uncomfortable, my face feels stiff, but it’s fun — and honestly, I think we’ve got some amazing costumes,” He said casually, glancing at Lando beside him, who nodded in agreement.
The reporter nodded, bringing the mic back up and glancing at the big camera filming them.
“Right, from what I’ve seen so far, you two are the only drivers who went all out with your costumes this year. I heard Haas might be doing something too, but I think you guys are taking all the glory this time. Congrats, guys, the costumes are incredible. Thanks,” the reporter finished, saying goodbye to the McLaren duo.
Both Lando and Oscar smiled politely, waving at the camera one last time before continuing their aimless walk. A few meters away, near the Mercedes area, a group of other drivers stood chatting in a circle. With just one look between them, the papaya duo decided to head over.
Among the group were Kimi, Ollie, Franco, and George, all laughing and teasing each other.
The first to notice the disguised pair were the Brits, who greeted them cheerfully before shouting playful cheers at their outfits, looking genuinely surprised.
“Well, well, so this is what you’ve been keeping so secret. Damn, those costumes are incredible — congrats, both of you,” George said, a mischievous smile on his face.
“You know what they say — good mysteries come with great reveals, or something like that,” Lando replied, making the group laugh.
“You guys don’t look too bad yourselves either,” Oscar added suddenly, glancing over at their costumes — clearly much simpler than the ones he and Lando were wearing.
The Mercedes duo had fake fangs, a bit of fake blood on their lips and goatee, and slightly paler faces thanks to makeup. Their hair was slicked back neatly — a pair of vampires.
Ollie, on the other hand, wore a fuzzy headband with round brown ears like a bear’s, while Franco had gone for something simpler — a zombie with a slightly torn Alpine shirt stained with dirt and fake blood.
“Well, our teams also planned some costumes for the day — photos here and there — but nothing as extravagant as you guys,” Ollie said with a bright grin, adjusting the headband as some hair fell into his face.
“You can really tell the difference in big-team budgets, huh?” Franco joked, laughing along with the others.
Suddenly, Kimi jumped in place, eyes wide and phone in hand, showing them his TikTok feed on the screen so everyone could see.
“This video — this is what you used for inspiration, right? I mean, I actually felt the pressure — I almost made some huge mistakes with you two chasing me like that! For a moment, I really felt like a seal!” the young Italian exclaimed quickly, showing them the video still playing on his phone.
Both Lando and Oscar recognized the video, having already seen it before when the marketing team showed them the inspiration for their costumes.
“Wow, yeah, they actually used this as inspiration. Incredible, right?” Lando exclaimed proudly, his tone slightly smug, making the rest of the group laugh. Oscar watched him with a quiet, happy smile.
“They’re good clips. The music helps too. Definitely something that fits you guys—the papaya boys,” Ollie said with a grin. Kimi put his phone away again, nodding in agreement.
Oscar grabbed Lando by the arm, pulling the shorter man closer into his personal space. Lando turned toward the Australian, curiosity in his eyes.
“We should head back, take a few last pictures to post later,” Oscar murmured, his gaze locked on Lando’s sparkling blue eyes.
Lando understood his teammate’s expression, giving the rest of the drivers a polite, professional smile as he nodded and waved goodbye before following Oscar, who still held his arm firmly but not harshly.
They walked quickly and effortlessly, having long lost track of how many laps around the paddock they’d done that day.
One way or another, once they reached the McLaren area, they returned to the room where they’d been relaxing hours earlier. Oscar sat back against the couch, with Lando on his lap, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders and waists, their eyes locked together.
Gone was the concern about keeping their costumes neat as they kissed with hunger and urgency, smudging the white and black makeup into a messy blur across their faces.