Work Text:
Oscar sat cross-legged on the couch in Lando’s apartment, his phone in hand but his attention elsewhere, his thoughts racing. The tension between Lando and Max had shifted from barely noticeable to almost unbearable over the past few weeks. Lando acted like it rolled off his back, but Oscar knew better. It was eating at him, no matter how much he tried to hide it.
Things had taken a turn after Austin. Max’s comments to the media, being passive aggressive sometimes just like his driving towards the younger driver. Lando had publicly defended Max, calling him "one of the greatest drivers of all time" and expressing his respect, but in private, he wouldn’t talk about him. Any time Oscar had gently prodded, Lando had shrugged it off, saying it didn’t matter.
But it did.
Even on Lando’s birthday, when Max had sent a message first thing in the morning, it hadn’t seemed to mend the growing distance. Lando had smiled at the text, but the usual spark of excitement wasn’t there. And now, with race week coming up, the weight of it all seemed harder for Lando to ignore.
It was getting to both of them, and Oscar hated seeing Lando shut himself off like this. It wasn’t like him, and Oscar knew Max wasn’t inherently the villain here, he was just, well, Max. Socially oblivious, sharp-tongued, and too proud to admit when he was wrong. For that last point, he was just like his boyfriend to be fair
Oscar’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It was Charles.
Grid Dad :
Any news?
Oscar :
Well, race week but nothing new. He refuses to talk about it and he won’t reach out.
Three dots appeared on the screen, and Oscar leaned back, already knowing what Charles was going to say.
Grid Dad :
Max isn’t any better. He acts like everything’s fine but keeps shutting me down when I try to talk to him about it and he just lets any chance to fix it slips past him. I’m tired of hearing him sulk around the flat when he won’t do anything about it.
Oscar snorted softly. He could practically hear the exasperation in Charles’s tone. Max could be a nightmare when he was brooding, and living with him couldn’t have been easy. But Charles, ever the diplomat, always managed to handle Max’s prickly moods with an endless reserve of patience.
Oscar :
So what do we do? Because Lando acts tough and all but he misses him and it pisses me off that he is all sad because of your stubborn boyfriend
Grid Dad :
We force them to sort it out. Max might act like an asshole but I believe he can put his pride aside for once.
Oscar raised an eyebrow at the screen.
Oscar :
Force them? How?
Grid Dad :
We lock them in a room.
Oscar stared at the message, half-expecting Charles to send a follow-up explaining he was joking. But no other texts came.
Oscar :
You can’t be serious.
Grid Dad :
Do you have a better idea?
He didn’t. That was the problem. They’d both tried the subtle approach, nudging them into conversations, creating opportunities for them to talk but it hadn’t worked. Max was too stubborn, and Lando was too hurt to make the first move.
Oscar sighed and typed back.
Oscar :
Okay. I’m in. But we need a plan.
---
Later that evening, while Lando was at the gym with Jon, Oscar found himself on a video call with Charles. The two were huddled over their phones, whispering like a pair of conspirators plotting a heist.
“Max doesn’t leave the apartment during breaks unless it’s for training, just like right now,” Charles said, his phone propped against a pile of books. His expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement. “So getting him anywhere else is already a challenge. He’s been avoiding seeing Lando like he owes him money—and we live in the same tiny city.”
Oscar let out a quiet chuckle despite himself. “I think Lando’s convinced that Max doesn’t care enough to bother fixing things. But honestly, making Lando leave the apartment might be easier.”
Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We have to make them see they’re both being stupid. They’re miserable like this.”
“Easier said than done,” Oscar muttered. He leaned back against the sofa, frowning. “But if we can get them in the same room…”
“They’ll have no choice but to talk,” Charles said, his tone firm with determination.
The two spent the next half hour hashing out a plan, the ideas bouncing back and forth with growing energy.
Step one: Get Lando to Max and Charles’ apartment.
“That’s your job,” Charles declared, gesturing toward the screen. “You bring Lando here. He’s the one who’ll be easiest to move.”
Oscar’s eyebrows shot up. “And how am I supposed to do that without him catching on? He’s a bit oblivious, sure, but not that oblivious.”
Charles grinned, his mischievous streak showing. “Come on, Oscar. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”
Step two: Lock the door.
“We’ll lock them in the apartment,” Charles continued, his tone entirely too casual for the chaos he was proposing. “And I’ll make sure Max doesn’t have any spare keys lying around. Once they’re in, we don’t let them out until they’ve talked it out. If it takes too long, we’ll go get a coffee.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “And what if they kill each other instead?”
“They won’t,” Charles replied confidently, waving off the concern. “They care about each other too much, even if they’re both too stubborn to admit it.”
—
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains of Lando’s bedroom, casting a soft glow over the room. Oscar blinked awake, his body warm and comfortably tangled with Lando’s. Lando was still fast asleep, his head nestled against Oscar’s chest, his arms loosely wrapped around Oscar’s waist. His breath was slow and even, a faint snore escaping occasionally. Oscar smiled softly, brushing a hand through Lando’s messy curls, relishing the peaceful moment even though he knew it wouldn’t last.
The Australian quietly grabbed his phone from the bedside table, scrolling through his notifications. Unsurprisingly, Charles had been up early, sending a flurry of texts confirming their plan.
Grid Dad :
Everything is set on my side. Just bring your boy over.
Oscar sighed, setting the phone down and rubbing his face. Lying to Lando wasn’t exactly something he enjoyed, but there was no other option. He had tried the gentle route, and it had failed miserably. This was for his own good, even if Lando hated him for it in the short term.
He shook Lando gently, leaning down to press a light kiss to his temple. “Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up,” he murmured.
Lando groaned in protest, burying his face deeper into Oscar’s chest. “Too early,” he mumbled, voice muffled against Oscar’s shirt.
Oscar chuckled, shaking him a little harder. “Come on, you promised we’d go out today. I found this place I know you’ll love.”
Lando cracked one eye open, his expression skeptical. “I don’t remember promising anything.”
“Well, you did,” Oscar said with an easy smile, brushing off the comment. “Come on, you’ll like it. I’ll even buy you coffee on the way.”
Lando groaned again but began to stir, stretching lazily as he sat up. His hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in every direction, but Oscar thought it was endearing. “Fine, but this better be good,” Lando muttered as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“It’ll be great. Trust me,” Oscar assured him, guilt gnawing at the pit of his stomach as he watched Lando shuffle off to the bathroom.
The drive was quiet, Lando nursing his coffee and scrolling aimlessly on his phone while Oscar followed the familiar route. Lando didn’t seem to notice they were headed toward Max and Charles’ apartment; he was still too groggy to pay attention.
When the car came to a stop, however, Lando frowned, looking out the window in confusion.
“This doesn’t look like a place I’d love,” he said, his tone suspicious as he glanced at Oscar.
Oscar flashed him a sheepish smile, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Come on, just trust me.”
Lando’s frown deepened. “Oscar...” His voice carried a warning now.
The Aussie got out of the car, leaning down to meet Lando’s glare through the open door. “It’s fine. You’ll see.”
“I swear, if this is some kind of trick—” Lando muttered as he climbed out, slamming the door behind him.
His boyfriend didn’t answer, already heading up to the building. Lando followed reluctantly, his irritation mounting with each step. When they reached the door to Max and Charles’ apartment, realization dawned on him.
“Wait. Did you lie to me ?,” Lando hissed, his voice low but venomous. “You brought me here? Why?”
Oscar turned to face him, his expression calm but firm. “You need to talk to him. Both of you do.”
“No, I don’t!” Lando snapped, his voice rising. “This is ridiculous, Oscar. I told you I don’t want to talk to him, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to talk to me! I am okay with it, why do you feel the need to interfere for god’s sake.”
The door swung open before Oscar could respond, and Charles stood there, his grin wide and utterly infuriating.
“Good morning, lovebirds,” Charles greeted, his tone annoyingly cheerful as he stepped aside.
Lando’s glare shifted to him instantly. “You’re in on this?” he demanded, his voice incredulous. “Seriously, Charles?”
Charles didn’t flinch, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Of course I am! Whose idea do you think this was? Now, stop lashing out at Oscar. I could hear you from behind the door. He’s just trying to help, which is more than I can say for you and Max.”
Lando’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident, but before he could retort, another voice joined the fray.
“Liefje what’s going on? Who’s here?” Max’s familiar Dutch accent carried from the hallway. He appeared moments later, his expression one of confusion that quickly changed when he saw Lando.
Charles straightened, his grin widening. “Perfect timing, Maxi.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Charles, what is this?”
“An intervention,” Charles interrupted, already pulling a set of keys from his pocket and forcing the Brit inside of the apartment. “Oscar and I are leaving. You two are staying locked up in here until you sort this out.”
“What?” Lando and Max said in unison, their voices laced with disbelief.
Charles ignored them, “Shall we?” he said to the youngest boy here.
Oscar hesitated for a moment, glancing at Lando, whose glare could’ve burned a hole through steel. But Charles nudged him forward, and together they stepped out, the door clicking shut behind them.
Lando and Max stared at the door for a moment before the sound of the lock turning broke the silence.
Lando immediately pulled out his phone, furiously typing a message to Oscar.
Lando :
You’ve got to be kidding me. Oscar, I swear to god.
At the same time, Max was pacing, his own phone in hand as he texted Charles with equal intensity.
Max :
I cannot believe you. This is absurd.
Come back right now and let me out of my own apartment.
This won’t work. I’m not talking to him.
—
The silence in the apartment stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Forty-five minutes had passed since Charles and Oscar had left, leaving Max and Lando locked in an uncomfortable standoff. Lando had been pacing for most of that time, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion, hurt, and frustration. He glanced at Max occasionally, but the Dutchman remained seated on the couch, arms crossed, a frown etched on his face. Neither had said a word, and yet, Lando felt the tension between them growing heavier with each passing second.
Lando could feel the familiar sting of rejection, but it was different this time. It wasn’t just about a fight or a misunderstanding. It was about the shift in their dynamic, the unspoken distance that had started to creep in ever since their battle in austin, ever since Max had pushed him wide, forcing him off the circuit twice. Max had never been tender on track, that was one thing he liked about him, how racing him was thrilling. But this was different now, it had been too much maybe because now they couldn’t even look at each other.
Max hadn’t really spoken to him since the race. There had been no joking, no side comments about how badly Lando drove or how much they missed their game nights together as usual. And the media had only made things worse. Max had been making passive-aggressive remarks without directly addressing him.
The worst part? Lando didn’t even think Max realized how much his behavior was affecting him. How much it hurt. Every time Lando praised Max in his interviews, complimented him for his talent, for his speed, for being the champion he was and how much he was learning from their battles, it felt like a slap in the face when Max wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence. Not even a simple “Good luck” or “I’ll catch up with you later.” Just... nothing.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was to blame for everything. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Max’s coldness had nothing to do with the way things had gone down on track, but Lando couldn’t stop replaying those moments in his mind, what if he had done something differently? What if he hadn’t been so eager to race, so determined to prove himself and win this championship? Maybe if he had stayed behind, let Max pass like he used to, maybe they would have avoided all of this. Maybe Max would still want to be his friend.
He suddenly stopped pacing, standing abruptly a few feets away from Max. They were stuck here until they talked so he was going to talk. And he basically exploded. “What the hell is your problem, Max?” He spun around, his voice a mixture of anger and hurt that he couldn’t keep bottled up any longer.
Max looked up, his expression incredulous, like Lando had just slapped him. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” Lando shot back, his voice rising. “You’ve been acting like I’m the enemy ever since the race. Ever since you pushed me off the track!”
Max’s face tightened. “It wasn’t like that, Lando—”
“Oh, please,” Lando interrupted, his frustration boiling over. “It wasn’t like that? Really? You’ve barely spoken to me since then. Every time I see you, it’s like you can’t even look at me. You’ve been throwing passive-aggressive comments to the press like I don’t exist, and you’ve been making it so obvious that you’re pissed at me. What the hell did I do, huh? Tell me, Max. What did I do to deserve this?”
Max’s expression shifted from confusion to something darker, like he was starting to realize that he had crossed a line. He stood up, but instead of moving toward Lando, he just stared at him, the weight of the situation settling between them.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Lando continued, his words coming faster now, like he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. Trying to understand what I did wrong. All I did was race you for that championship, Max. You’ve got a title to fight for, and you forget all about our friendship.”
Max didn’t say anything at first. His face was unreadable, and Lando couldn’t tell if he was angry, defensive, or just as confused as Lando was. He took a step forward, like he was going to say something, but Lando wasn’t done.
“You know what else I don’t get?” Lando continued, his voice trembling now with the weight of everything he had been holding back. “You’ve been treating me like this for weeks, and the whole time, I’ve been making a fool of myself praising you. I’ve been saying how great you are in every interview, how much I admire you. I’ve been supporting you, even when you can’t seem to do the same for me. And I get it, Max. I get it. You’ve got this championship fight, and you’ve got everything else to worry about. We promised we would keep those on track and keep being friends out of it, just like we did in Austria! I thought we would talk but when you did not come to me, I thought okay maybe we do not need it we’re okay. But we are not and I feel stupid.”
Max opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, but Lando held up a hand. “No. I’m done with excuses, Max. You’ve been so caught up in our damn championship’s fight that you’ve forgotten about me in the process. And in doing that, you’ve made it worse for me. Every time you act like I’m not here, every time you avoid me, it just gives the fans more content. It makes the harassment worse. They’re all watching us, Max. They’re all seeing you ignore me, and they’re using it to tear me down because they think you are on their side now. You’re making it worse, and I don’t think you even care. And that stupid birthday message….”
The older man’s gaze flickered with something, guilt maybe, but Lando wasn’t sure. The frustration on Lando’s face was evident, but it wasn’t just frustration. It was hurt. Deep, aching hurt. The Dutchman stepped forward then, his expression hard to read, but Lando couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stand there and pretend like everything was okay. He had given so much of himself to this friendship, and now it was being torn apart in front of him, and all he had left were the pieces of a bond that felt like it was slipping through his fingers.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Lando muttered, turning away and sitting down on a chair.
Max’s chest felt tight as he stood there. For the first time in weeks, he realized the raw emotion Lando had been bottling up, the frustration, the confusion, the hurt. And worse, the overwhelming sense of guilt hit him like a punch to the gut because he hadn’t realized any of it, thinking it was all going to be okay because it always was with Lando. He had been wrong, the younger was in his first championship fight against one of his best friends, handling the hate and the pressure and Max had forgotten about that. For him, they would have been good when all of it was over. Now, he had to make it up to the curly haired man sitting in front of him.
“Lando…” Max’s voice was low, almost hesitant, as he took a step closer. But Lando didn’t look up.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. “You’re right,” he said, his voice steadier this time. “You’re right about everything.”
That got Lando’s attention. His head snapped up, his eyes red-rimmed but still burning with frustration. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked sharply, his voice cracking. “That’s all you’ve got? ‘You’re right’? Great, Max. That fixes everything.”
Max winced but didn’t back down. “I know it doesn’t fix anything,” he admitted. “But I need you to hear me out.”
Lando leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression a mix of exhaustion and disbelief. “Fine,” he said coldly. “Go ahead. Tell me how ignoring me and letting the media have a field day with it isn’t as bad as it seems.”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. He knew he deserved that. “I’ve been a shit friend,” he said bluntly, his tone laced with self-loathing. “I’ve been so caught up in everything, fighting for the championship against you, the pressure from the team, I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing to you. I didn’t realize how much my silence was affecting you. I didn’t realize how it looked to everyone else. I just thought we would be fine like always but I was so wrong.”
Lando’s expression didn’t soften, but he didn’t interrupt, so Max pressed on. “When I made those comments, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I wasn’t even thinking about you, if I’m being honest. I was just frustrated. And yeah, maybe I took it out on you without noticing it. But it wasn’t personal. It was never personal, Lando.”
Lando scoffed, shaking his head. “You think that makes it better? That you didn’t even think about me at all? That you were just so caught up in your own stuff that you forgot I existed?”
Max flinched, the words cutting deeper than he’d expected. “No,” he said quickly. “It doesn’t make it better. I know that. I’m just... I’m trying to explain. I know I’ve been distant. I know I’ve been cold. And I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for being such an asshole. I’m sorry for not talking to you, for not checking in, for letting you think that I don’t care. Because I do care, Lando. I care more than you know.”
Lando’s eyes narrowed, the hurt still evident in his gaze. “Then why?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you just talk to me?”
Max ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Because I didn’t know how,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration, at himself, mostly. “Because I’ve never been good at this, Lando. At talking. At having friends. At dealing with stuff like this. And because I was scared. Scared that if I said the wrong thing, it would make things worse. That if I tried to fix it, I’d just end up breaking our friendship completely.”
Lando blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, the tension in the room seemed to ease, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt.
“So instead of trying,” Lando said quietly, his voice heavy with disappointment, “you just... gave up?”
Max shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of Lando. “No,” he said firmly. “I didn’t give up. I didn’t leave you. I messed up, Lando. I made mistakes. But I would have never ever not come back to you. It would have been probably too late because I am an idiot.”
Lando stared at him, his expression unreadable.
The Dutchman hesitated for a moment, the tension in the room still thick, but he refused to back away now. He’d gotten this far, and he wasn’t going to stop until he saw something, anything, that told him he hadn’t completely wrecked things between them.
“Look,” Max began, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I get it, okay? I’ve been a dick. But for what it’s worth, you pacing like a caged animal and glaring at me like you wanted to throw something? That was terrifying.”
Lando blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “What?”
“I’m serious,” Max said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “For a second, I thought you were going to grab one of Charles’ ridiculous cat statues he keeps insisting are ‘art.’ and chunk it at my head.”
Lando’s lips twitched despite himself. “You deserved it,” he shot back, crossing his arms. “And honestly? I was this close.” He held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.
Max chuckled, and the sound was so unexpected that Lando found himself laughing too. It was hesitant at first, but it quickly grew, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking through the tension.
“I mean, really,” Max said, sitting back down on the couch and gesturing around the room. “Locked in my own apartment because Charles and Oscar think we need an intervention? What is this, some sort of bad rom-com?”
Lando snorted, shaking his head. “As much as I was pissed about it, they are not wrong, though. If they hadn’t locked us in, we’d probably still be avoiding each other.”
Max nodded, his smirk fading into a more genuine smile. “Yeah.”
The room fell into a more comfortable silence, the weight of their earlier confrontation lifting just enough for them to breathe. Lando leaned back in his chair, glancing at Max. “You know,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone, “for someone who’s supposed to be all cool and collected, you were looking pretty panicked when I started yelling.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Panicked? I wasn’t panicked.”
“Please,” Lando shot back, grinning now. “You looked like you were trying to figure out how to dive out the window without breaking anything.”
Max laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, maybe a little panicked. But in my defense, you can be scary when you’re mad.”
Lando rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too, the tension between them fading with each passing moment. “Think again about this moment before ignoring me again.”
The sound of a phone vibrating broke the moment, and Lando pulled his phone out of his pocket, his eyebrows raising when he saw the name on the screen. “It’s Oscar,” he said, unlocking his phone and opening the message.
Love :
Are you guys still alive? Or should we wait a bit longer before Charles unlocks you?
Lando barked out a laugh, holding up the screen for Max to see.
Max groaned, shaking his head and pulling out his own phone just as it buzzed. He opened the message from Charles, reading it aloud.
Charlie :
Is the storm over, or do I need to stay in Oscar’s apartment for the night?
They both laughed, the absurdity of the situation hitting them all over again.
“Are we friends again?” Max asked, his tone light but sincere.
Lando shrugged, though his smile didn’t fade. “Yeah. Yes we are you muppet.”
Max nodded, quickly typing a reply to his boyfriend.
Max :
We’re alive. Come unlock us before Lando decides to test his aim with one of your cat statues.
As soon as the two blue ticks appeared on their phones, the door clicked open, followed by the familiar creak of it swinging ajar. Charles appeared in the doorway, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he stepped inside.
"I thought this lockdown might last longer," he said, flashing Max a teasing look. "You must’ve behaved better than expected. Should’ve stayed with snacks." He winked, his tone light and unbothered, no trace of tension in his voice.
Lando rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. "You're lucky I’m not holding a grudge," he shot back, his voice playful as he finally stood, stretching his arms above his head. His gaze turned to Oscar, who was still lingering by the door, looking a little unsure. "You can come closer, love."
Oscar offered a small, hesitant smile, but the unease didn’t quite leave his eyes. Lando had every right to be upset with him, and Oscar knew it. He’d lied and he wasn’t sure if things were really okay yet.
Max noticed the uncertainty in Oscar’s posture, recognizing the discomfort that came from knowing someone you cared about was hurt by your actions. He looked over at Charles, who had stepped closer to him and pulled him into a gentle hug. Max returned the embrace, smiling softly. "So, you’re proud of your plan?" he teased.
Charles grinned. "Well, it worked, didn’t it? You two were miserable."
Lando, seeing Oscar still standing at a distance, decided to take the first step. He walked over to his younger boyfriend and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him into a comforting embrace. "I’m not mad at you," he said, his voice soft but steady. "You had your reasons for doing what you did, and it worked. I don’t like being lied to, but I know you thought you were doing the right thing. I’m not mad, Oscar. Thank you."
Oscar looked up at him, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. "You sure?"
Lando gave him a reassuring squeeze, his voice warm. "Yes, love. I’m sure."