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The hotel door clicked shut with a dull thud, muffling the last echoes of the world outside the paddock they left a few minutes ago, still bubbling and swarming with reporters, fans and lingering chaos of the post-race debriefs that always took hours. Inside this room, everything felt muted, the carpet absorbing their footsteps, the heavy curtains already drawn against the city lights.
Lando dropped his keycard onto the little desk by the door and let himself collapse backward onto the bed, limbs splayed, the mattress dipping under the sudden weight. He didn’t even bother to untie his shoes. His whole body still thrummed with the adrenaline of the race, every nerve wound tight, the feeling refusing to let go.
From the bathroom, Oscar’s voice floated out, dry and amused. “You looked like someone stole your favorite toy on that cooldown lap.”
Lando groaned, dragging an arm over his eyes. “That wasn’t a toy. That was my win. My pole. My win.” His voice pitched into a whine, sharp with the kind of frustration only he could make sound both genuine, childish and dramatic.
A beat later, Oscar appeared in the doorway, hair damp from a quick shower, Quadrant hoodie hanging loose on his shoulders. He leaned against the frame with a smirk that made Lando want to throw something. “You had pole baby. Isn’t that enough?”
“No!” Lando sat up just long enough to glare before flopping back again, curls fanning across the pillow. “Pole is like… having the best head start in Mario Kart and then immediately getting blue-shelled. By you.”
Oscar chuckled, crossing the room and perching on the edge of the bed. “So you’re saying I’m the blue shell.”
“You’re worse than a blue shell,” Lando muttered, voice muffled by the duvet he was now pulling up to his chin like armor. “At least the shell doesn’t sit in front of me the entire race, being smug and—” He waved a hand vaguely in Oscar’s direction, “—Australian about it.”
Oscar’s grin widened. “Smug and Australian. Got it.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching out, casual in a way that made Lando grind his teeth. “You know, you were right there in my mirrors. Thought you’d actually try something.”
“I did!” Lando’s head popped out from under the duvet, curls messy, eyes indignant. “But you— you covered it every time. Perfectly. Like some… some robot.” His hands flailed helplessly, fingers curling around invisible steering wheels. “Do you know how annoying it is to be half a second off lap after lap after lap—”
The Aussie tilted his head, voice light but edged with the quiet pride only he could pull off. “Annoying for you. Pretty fun for me.”
“You didn’t even let me have the satisfaction of a single lap in front,” Lando grumbled, throwing himself onto the bed with exaggerated dramatics.
Oscar tossed his damp hair back, smirking as he kicked off his shoes. “Pole position was your lap in front. You’re welcome.”
That earned him a pillow straight to the chest. The sound it made was soft, a dull whump against cotton, but it carried all of Lando’s pent-up irritation.
Oscar blinked down at it, then back up at Lando. “Really?”
Lando had already armed himself with the second pillow, holding it like a shield. His grin was sharp, mischievous, all traces of sulking gone in an instant. “War,” he announced.
Oscar raised a brow, slow and deliberate, before lunging for the nearest pillow on his side of the bed. “You don’t want to start this, Lan. You know you’ll lose. Again.”
The tension of the race, the sting of defeat, the weight of adrenaline clinging to their skin, it all broke in the same heartbeat. The first strike landed square against Oscar’s shoulder, sending him sideways with a surprised grunt. He recovered quickly, twisting back with a gleam in his eyes, pillow raised like a weapon.
“You’ve made a terrible mistake,” he declared, and before Lando could duck, Oscar’s pillow came down in a dramatic arc, smacking into his curls with a muffled thump.
“Oi!” Lando yelped, scrambling backward up the bed, clutching his own pillow like a knight’s shield. “That’s cheating, you went straight for the head!”
“All’s fair in love and war my love,” Oscar shot back, already swinging again.
Lando blocked it with his own, their pillows colliding midair with a soft, ridiculous whff sound. He used the recoil to shove forward, nearly knocking Oscar off-balance. They grappled for control, laughing so hard it was impossible to take either of them seriously.
“You’re supposed to be tired from winning!” Lando shouted between laughs, shoving his pillow into Oscar’s chest.
“I am tired,” Oscar grunted, grabbing at the corner of Lando’s pillow, “tired of listening to you whine about second place.”
“That’s rich coming from you—” Lando broke off with another yelp as Oscar yanked the pillow from his hands entirely and lobbed it across the room. It hit the desk chair with a hollow thud, spinning it halfway around.
“Unarmed now,” Oscar said smugly, brandishing his own pillow.
Lando froze for a beat, curls wild, cheeks flushed from laughter and exertion. Then he narrowed his eyes in mock seriousness. “You underestimate my power.”
Before Oscar could react, Lando launched himself forward, tackling him at the waist. The force sent them both toppling sideways into the mattress, Oscar wheezing out a laugh as his pillow slipped from his grip.
“Lan— wait—!” Oscar’s words broke into helpless laughter as Lando scrambled on top, pinning his arms down with all the determination of someone half-delirious on adrenaline and spite.
“I win,” Lando announced breathlessly, grinning down at him with triumphant chaos in his eyes.
Oscar squirmed under the hold, laughing so hard he could barely speak. “You can’t— call it— when you’re— cheating!”
“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy,” Lando argued, curls falling into his eyes. “You should’ve covered the inside line better.”
The younger man tilted his head back against the pillow, laughter shaking through his chest. “You’re comparing a pillow fight to a Grand Prix now?”
“It’s all racing, my darling,” Lando shot back, digging his knees into the mattress to keep Oscar pinned. “And I just overtook you.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, still laughing, then bucked suddenly beneath him, nearly throwing Lando off. They wrestled like that for a few messy, chaotic seconds, sheets twisting, pillows tumbling to the floor, the bed creaking under their weight, until Oscar managed to free one arm and grab the discarded pillow.
“Checkmate,” he said, and smacked it square into Lando’s side.
Lando squealed, an actual squeal, before collapsing sideways in helpless laughter, half-sprawled across Oscar’s chest, still trying to bat the pillow away. His laughter was high and breathless, his face pink from exertion, his hair a complete disaster.
Oscar’s own grin softened just slightly, even as he swung the pillow again with less force, like he couldn’t bring himself to break the moment entirely.
“You’re insufferable,” Lando managed between breaths, his voice muffled against Oscar’s hoodie.
“And you love it,” Oscar replied without missing a beat, his tone half-teasing, half-true.
Lando groaned dramatically, swiping weakly at him. “Shut up.”
The room had dissolved into pure chaos. The bed squeaked and shifted with every movement, the duvet half-torn from the mattress, pillows flying in random arcs across the room.
Lando shrieked with laughter as Oscar swung wildly again, missing by inches and smacking the headboard instead with a hollow whump. “Ha! Useless!” Lando crowed, already scrambling to grab the lost pillow from the floor.
“Not useless,” Oscar countered, diving for the same pillow at the exact moment. Their hands collided on the fabric, each tugging in opposite directions like it was the championship trophy itself. The seams strained under the tension, feathers threatening to spill out.
“Let go!” Lando demanded, voice cracking as he kicked at Oscar’s shin with zero actual force.
Oscar burst out laughing, pulling harder. “Never!”
The pillow slipped free at last, but not into either of their hands. It shot into the air between them, spinning awkwardly before landing square on Lando’s face with a soft poof.
The room exploded with laughter. Lando ripped it off his face and threw it blindly, missing Oscar completely and smacking into the lampshade by the bed instead. The light wobbled dangerously, and Oscar had to grab it with one hand to steady it, still laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
“You’re going to destroy the room,” he gasped out.
“Worth it!” Lando shouted, launching himself forward again. He swung low, catching Oscar in the ribs with a glancing blow that knocked him sideways across the bed.
Oscar retaliated instantly, rolling with the momentum and coming back with two quick hits in succession, one to Lando’s shoulder, one to his hip. The sound of their muffled impacts mixed with Lando’s howls of protest, his laughter bubbling through every word.
“That’s illegal!” he cried, twisting away.
Oscar grinned wickedly. “Illegal moves for illegal drivers.”
“You can’t—!” Lando’s protest cut off into another squeal as Oscar went for the double-handed pillow slam, burying him under the soft weight. Lando kicked wildly, arms flailing, muffled laughter trapped beneath the pillow.
“Say I’m the better driver,” Oscar said over the chaos, mock-serious, keeping the pillow pressed just enough to pin him.
“Never!” came Lando’s muffled, gleeful reply. He managed to buck hard enough to throw Oscar sideways, tumbling them both into the mess of sheets.
They rolled together, a blur of limbs and laughter, grabbing whatever pillow came within reach. At one point Lando managed to trap Oscar’s legs under the twisted duvet, declaring victory, only for Oscar to retaliate by hauling the entire duvet off the bed with a dramatic yank, sending both of them sprawling.
The floor wasn’t safe either. When one pillow went skidding across the carpet, Lando dove after it like it was the last cookie in the jar, Oscar right on his heels. They crashed into the chair, sending it spinning into the desk, both of them breathless with helpless laughter.
“You’re insane,” Oscar wheezed, swinging the pillow down again, catching only air as Lando rolled out of reach.
“I know!” Lando shot back, scrambling to his knees, curls bouncing, eyes bright with mischief. He swung upward, catching Oscar under the chin just enough to make him stumble back against the bedframe.
For a moment, both of them froze, panting, grins splitting their faces. Their hair stuck up at odd angles, clothes rumpled, cheeks flushed from exertion. The silence lasted only a heartbeat before Lando let out another war cry and hurled himself forward, pillow raised high.
Oscar caught him mid-air, the collision sending them tumbling back onto the mattress. The bed groaned in protest, louder this time, before creaking dangerously under their weight. They barely noticed, too busy laughing and swinging at each other, pillows hammering wildly in every direction, feathers bursting from one battered seam.
The room was chaos: duvet on the floor, a chair shoved halfway under the desk, pillows everywhere. Their laughter rang louder than the thumps of fabric, wild and unrestrained, filling every inch of the hotel suite.
And then…
CRACK.
The sound ripped through the room, followed by a violent lurch as the bed dipped under them at a crooked angle. Both froze mid-swing, wide-eyed, before the mattress slanted so sharply that they slid toward the center in a tangled heap.
“…Did we just–” Lando started.
“--break the bed?” Oscar finished, voice high with disbelief.
Another groan of splintered wood answered for them.
They stared at each other for a beat of silence before bursting into helpless laughter, clutching their sides even as the mattress tilted more. Lando rolled onto his back, tears stinging his eyes, wheezing so hard he could barely breathe. “We’re dead. We’re actually dead. Zak’s gonna– oh my god, Zak’s gonna kill us.”
Oscar shoved a hand through his hair, still laughing, though panic edged in around the sound. “You think Zak needs to know? Imagine the team finding out we broke a hotel bed together. No one’s gonna believe it was just a fight.”
Lando slapped his hand against the mattress, which let out another tortured creak. “I can’t even explain this to my mum, Osc.” He sat up halfway, curls sticking out in every direction, eyes sparkling with wicked amusement. “We can’t stay here. We’ve gotta flee the scene.”
Oscar blinked at him, incredulous. “Flee the– what?”
“Yeah, yeah, listen,” Lando said quickly, already plotting in the middle of his hysteria. “We pack our stuff, sneak out, and move to your hotel room– the one you didn’t use. No one will notice. We just… swap. Leave the wreckage behind like nothing ever happened.”
“You’re suggesting we commit a crime and then just– pretend this never happened?” Oscar asked, somewhere between horrified and hysterical.
“Yes!” Lando threw his arms wide, grinning like it was the most obvious plan in the world. “We ghost this room like it never existed. When housekeeping finds it, it’s just– what, a tragic accident? A random collapse? Nothing to do with us. You don’t tell. I don’t tell.”
Oscar groaned, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with barely contained laughter. “This is so stupid. You’re so stupid.”
“And yet,” Lando sing-songed, nudging Oscar’s shin with his foot, “you’re still gonna do it with me.”
Oscar peeked at him through his fingers, lips twitching despite himself. “You’re impossible.”
“But charming,” Lando corrected instantly, his grin wicked and triumphant.
The bed groaned again, louder this time, and both of them scrambled off it like it was about to swallow them whole. The mattress sagged in the middle at a ridiculous angle, one leg of the frame visibly snapped and jutting out like a broken bone.
“Okay,” Oscar said, breathless, hands braced on his hips as if surveying the crime scene. His hoodie was crooked, hair a complete mess, and his cheeks still flushed from laughing too hard. “So we really… we actually did it. We broke a bed. A hotel bed.”
“Correction,” Lando piped up, already grabbing his phone charger from the wall with exaggerated efficiency, “you broke a bed. I was just collateral damage.”
Oscar’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me? You launched yourself off the wardrobe like a lunatic!”
“Semantics,” Lando said cheerfully, shoving the cable into his backpack. “Either way, we’ve gotta move. Pack your stuff.”
Oscar blinked at him. “You’re actually serious about fleeing the scene?”
“Yes!” Lando hissed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Love, do you want to explain this to housekeeping? To Zak? To the team? “We broke a bed together”. How would that sound, they’ll never believe we were just pillow fighting !”
Oscar opened his mouth, then shut it again, because Lando had a point. The mental image alone– walking into the airport tomorrow morning and seeing sly grins, hearing someone mutter ‘heard about the bed’-- was enough to make his skin crawl.
“Fine,” Oscar muttered, grabbing his sneakers and shoving them into his duffel. “But if we get caught sneaking down the hall like fugitives, it’s your fault.”
Lando smirked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “I’ll take the fall. I’ll say I was sleepwalking.”
They both lost it again, muffling their laughter behind their hands as they hastily crammed chargers, clothes, and toiletries into bags. The room looked worse than ever now: bed collapsed like a crime scene, duvet in a heap, feathers faint in the air, chairs skewed. It was the picture of absolute chaos.
“Right,” Lando whispered dramatically once they were at the door, bags in hand. “Operation Ghost Escape is a go.”
Oscar rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt, but he followed him out into the hall anyway. The corridor was quiet, carpet muffling their footsteps, only the faint hum of distant air conditioning filling the silence. They were still flushed and jittery, every laugh threatening to spill over.
They moved quickly down the hall, trying– and failing– not to look suspicious. Lando led the way with ridiculous stealth, crouching slightly like he was in a spy film. Oscar hissed, “Stop walking like a raccoon, you’re going to draw attention.”
“I’m blending in with the shadows,” Lando whispered back, eyes wide with faux seriousness.
“You’re blending in with nothing, you look like an idiot.”
Despite himself, Oscar was grinning, cheeks aching. He could feel adrenaline buzzing again, but in a lighter, stupid way– like being kids sneaking out past curfew.
Finally, they reached the unused room. Oscar fumbled with the keycard, trying not to drop his bag in the process, while Lando hovered anxiously behind him. “Hurry, hurry, someone’s gonna come out—”
“I’m trying!” Oscar snapped in a whisper, jamming the card the wrong way before finally getting the green light. The door clicked open, and they practically tumbled inside.
Lando shut it behind them with exaggerated care, pressing his back against it like they’d just outrun a manhunt. For a moment, they both froze in the darkened room, bags in hand, listening for footsteps in the hall. Nothing. Silence.
Then, simultaneously, they broke.
Oscar collapsed onto the perfectly-made bed, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “We’re– oh my god– we’re actually criminals. We broke a bed and fled the scene.”
Lando dropped his bag onto the floor and flung himself beside him, curls bouncing, grin unstoppable. “Tell me that wasn’t the smoothest operation ever executed. No witnesses, no evidence—”
“Except the giant broken bedframe,” Oscar wheezed.
“Details, details,” Lando said airily, rolling onto his side to face him. His eyes glittered with leftover adrenaline, hair wild, cheeks pink. “The important thing is, we got away with it.”
Oscar shook his head, breathless but warm, unable to stop smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” Lando shot back, smug and soft at once, “you still followed me.”
Oscar didn’t give him a chance to smirk again. His hand found Lando’s waist, firm and certain, and he tugged him forward, closing the tiny space between them with a kiss that was anything but careful. Their teeth almost clashed from the suddenness of it, breath still ragged from laughter, but the heat of it swallowed the room whole.
Lando let out a muffled laugh against Oscar’s mouth, caught somewhere between surprise and delight, before melting into it completely. His fingers curled into Oscar’s hoodie, dragging him closer, like even air between them was too much.
The kiss turned hungry fast– messy, uncoordinated, all emotion and no precision. Every shift of their lips was edged with leftover adrenaline, every brush of tongue carrying the same chaos as their escape down the hall. Oscar poured it all in– every ounce of frustration, every ounce of fondness, every ounce of the ridiculous love he carried for this boy who could make him break a hotel bed after a 1-2 and still grin like he’d won something important.
When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping, foreheads pressed together, grins tugging at swollen lips. Lando’s curls tickled Oscar’s cheeks, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run another race.
“You’re insane,” Oscar whispered, voice low and hoarse but threaded with so much warmth it was almost unbearable. His thumb brushed along Lando’s jaw, gentle in contrast to the heat of the kiss. “Absolutely insane.”
Lando’s answering smile was small but devastating, eyes shining like he’d just discovered a secret. “And you love me anyway.”
Oscar didn’t hesitate. He leaned in, kissing him again– slower this time, deeper, softer, sealing the words with certainty. When he pulled back, his answer was written plain in the way his gaze lingered, steady and unwavering.
“Yeah,” he said simply, breath warm against Lando’s lips. “I do.”
And in that quiet, messy, stolen hotel room– bags still half-unpacked, evidence of their chaos left behind down the hall– Oscar kissed him again, because there was no hiding how much he loved this stupid, brilliant, impossible boy.