eyesmileprince @eyesmileprince - Tumblr Blog

The Fake Girlfriend Fiasco/ L.N Part 2

pairings: lando norris x f!reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: lando norris is sick of the constant matchmaking attempts from team principals, sponsors, and fellow drivers. After yet another dinner where an older executive tries to set him up with his “brilliant and beautiful” niece, he snaps. In a moment of desperation, he turns to y/n, a friend-of-a-friend who’s equally unimpressed by the F1 circus. She’s witty, down to earth and most importantly, doesn’t care about his fame.

warnings: none

Two days before the Monaco Grand Prix Lando and you thought that it would be a good idea to test the waters by going to a small café nearby. You sat beside him in the passenger seat, sunglasses perched on your head and fingers tapping absently against the door. You glanced at him with a neutral but curious expression.

“You’re quiet,” Lando said, glancing at you.

“I’m observing,” you replied with a measured tone, “Which is apparently a crime in your world.”

Lando smirked, “Not a crime just… unusual.”

You pulled up to the café, a charming little spot with wrought-iron tables and a view of the harbour. Lando killed the engine and turned to her, “Ready?”

You pushed open your door before he could finish, “I was born ready.”

Lando stepped out, meeting you on the sidewalk, “You’re annoyingly confident.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” you shot back, though your tone lacked the usual bite.

The café was busy but not crowded, the kind of place where locals and tourists mixed without anyone batting an eye. They slid into a corner table, and you immediately picked up the menu, scanning it with a critical eye. “Do not order anything weird,” you warned, though it sounded more like a matter-of-fact statement after the other night with the chili sauce.

Lando picked up his own menu, though he already knew what he wanted, “I’ll have you know my taste is refined.”

You didn’t look up, “Whatever you say Norris.”

You ordered coffee and pastries, and for a while, they just sat in silence, sipping their drinks. You stirred sugar into your coffee, “So what’s the plan for the race weekend? The whole public couple thing?” Lando set his cup down, “We stick to the rules. No obvious tells, touch when it’s necessary, keep it believable.”

You nodded, “And if someone asks about us?”

“We say we’ve known each other for years. Old friends.”

Your fingers tapped the table, “Old friends,” She tested the phrase, your tone sceptical. “That’s it?”

Lando shrugged, “What else do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something about how we met? Like… in karting? Or through Max?”

You nodded, with a neutral expression, “Fine. Through Max.”

Lando turned back to you just in time for the server to bring you’re your pastries, as she rested down your plates she turned as said, “Aren’t you two lovely?”

You both blinked and the older lady grin widened, “You remind me of my husband and I when we were younger.” You could practically feel Lando trying to decide whether to correct her but you squeezed his arm for him to remember what today was about. The woman clearly mistook the silence for shyness.

“Oh, don't worry,” she continued, “I won't embarrass you too much.” Too much. That implied some amount of embarrassment was already planned, wonderful.

Lando recovered first, “What makes you think we're together?”

The woman looked between the two of you as if the answer should have been obvious, “Darling, I've owned this café for twenty years.”

“Okay...”

“I've watched first dates, blind dates, breakups, proposals, affairs, marriages, and at least three people who thought they were being subtle when they absolutely weren't.” Lando's grin was already starting to appear, you immediately disliked where this was going.

The woman pointed toward him, “For starters, you walked in holding the door for her.”

“That's just being polite,” you stated trying to brush it off.

“No,” She shook her head, “Being polite is holding the door which he did as well however, looking over your shoulder three times to make sure she actually follows you inside is boyfriend behaviour.”

You turned toward him and Lando suddenly found the floor fascinating. Then she pointed at you, “And you.” You immediately straightened, “What about me?”

“Every time he talks, you pretend you're annoyed,” Lando made a triumphant noise, the traitor. The woman continued, “But every time he looks away, you smile.” Your stomach dropped.

Beside you, Lando went completely silent, “Oh, that's interesting,” he said after a moment.

While you refused to look at him, Lando looked unbearably pleased with himself and you considered leaving. The woman laughed again before leaning against the counter, “Young people always think everyone around them is paying less attention than they actually are.”

The teasing in her voice softened, “Whatever it is, though, it's sweet.” Something about that made the conversation falter because unlike the jokes, that comment wasn't exaggerated it was genuine. For a second, neither you nor Lando seemed to know what to do with it.

Then the woman smiled and picked up her notepad, “Now. Before I start charging you for relationship counselling, can I get you both anything else?”

The tension broke immediately, Lando let out a breathless laugh and you looked down at now slightly cold croissant and despite it all, you found yourself smiling. This time, when you glanced up, Lando caught it. Neither of you looked away quite as quickly as you probably should have.

By the time you stepped back onto the street, the afternoon sun had climbed high enough to cast the harbor in brilliant light. The water glittered beyond the rows of yachts, and the sidewalks were beginning to fill with tourists taking advantage of the weather.

You adjusted the strap of your bag as you walked beside Lando. The café had gone better than expected, not that you planned on telling him that. After a few moments, you slowed and glanced over at him, “So? How’d I do?”

Lando stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking at you, “Good actually, better than I expected.”

“Because one woman thought we were together?”

“No,” his answer came more quickly than you expected, “Because she didn't just think we were together.” You frowned and Lando continued before you could interrupt, “She thought we were comfortable together.”

The observation caught you off guard, you weren't entirely sure why but it did, “You got all of that from one conversation?”

“People can usually tell when something feels forced,” You watched him carefully, it was strange seeing him speak without the usual teasing edge in his voice.

“If we'd spent the entire time acting,” he continued, “she probably would've picked up on it.”

You considered that, the owner hadn't called you a cute couple because either of you had been pretending to be affectionate. If anything, you'd both been acting mostly normal, Which raised a slightly uncomfortable question.

“So what you're saying is...” You hesitated. “We don't actually have to try that hard?”

Lando laughed, “That's exactly what I'm saying.”

Something about the answer eased a tension you hadn't realized you were carrying. You'd spent days wondering what would happen once cameras got involved, whether you'd be expected to play a role with every interaction needing to be calculated. The thought had been exhausting.

“You seem relieved.”

You looked away, “Maybe.”

“Why?”

You shrugged, “Because I don't like pretending to be someone I'm not.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them and for a second, you considered taking them back. Instead, you shoved your hands into your jacket pockets.

Lando was quiet for a moment, not in a surprised way but in a thoughtful one. “You know,” he said eventually, “that's kind of why I thought this would work.”

“Hear me out,” His grin returned briefly, then it faded again, “Most people would've tried way too hard.” You waited, “They would've wanted everything to look perfect, overthought every photo and every interaction.”

“And I don't?”

“You absolutely overthink things,” You rolled your eyes. “But,” he continued before you could argue, “You don't perform.” The comment landed somewhere unexpected. Not because it was particularly flattering but because it felt honest.

Lando shrugged when you didn't respond, “I don't know. I think that's why people buy it.”

You looked ahead toward the car parked farther down the street. For once, neither of you seemed in a rush to continue walking and the conversation had settled into something quieter neither of you quite knew how to handle.

Eventually, you tilted your head, “That's surprisingly insightful.”

His expression brightened immediately and a laugh escaped him, the sound following the two of you as you started walking again and you found that you didn't mind it nearly as much as you thought you should.

You spent the next few days planning all your outfits for the race weekend, getting Lando’s opinion as this was not your forte. Let’s just say there was a lot of arguing. Both of you were very stubborn in your own ways and coordinating outfits made that apparent.

Sometime around midnight on Wednesday, you both gave up, collapsing onto separate huge piles of clothes scattered on the floor.

“This is exhausting, I don’t understand why we have to match,” you said with a throbbing head.

Lando on the nearby pile sighed, “I just think we should make it obvious.”

“We’re going be together and there’s cameras everywhere how much more obvious can we be?” Minutes passed before Lando responded, “How about a compromise, we match only on race day.”

“Fine, that seems easy enough,” you said rolling around and stood up to sort it out.

Around half an hour later, you were even more drained but on the bright side all of the outfits are sorted. You turned to find Lando completely knocked out on the same position on the floor in the clothes. That couldn’t be comfortable so you nudged him with your foot, “You can’t sleep here Norris.”

He groaned and you couldn’t care less so you left him there to deal with his pains in the morning and went to bed.

When you woke up in the morning Lando was gone, you reached for your phone and checked the time, 10am. He was already at the track for media day you thought while beginning your morning bed rot session.

Just as you decided to stop and finally get up, his name popped up.

Lando: You’re probably still asleep but I’ll be back later, went to media day.

Lando: If you need anything just text me.

You gave him a thumbs up emoji and started your last day of freedom before the circus that would begin tomorrow.

The apartment was quiet when you heard the front door unlock. You didn't bother looking up immediately. Lando had been at the circuit since early that morning, and after spending the better part of the day alone, you'd grown used to the silence. The television played softly in the background, more for noise than entertainment, while your laptop sat forgotten on the coffee table.

The door clicked shut and a second later came the unmistakable sound of something being dropped onto the floor. You glanced up just in time to see Lando shrugging off his backpack looking exhausted.

Not physically exhausted but the kind of tired that came from spending an entire day answering the same questions over and over again while pretending each answer was brand new.

“How was media day?” you asked.

Lando let out a dramatic sigh as he walked further into the apartment, you nodded knowingly, “That bad?”

“I spent fifteen minutes answering questions about a radio message I made three months ago.”

You laughed, “I think you'll survive.”

Lando pointed at you as he headed toward the kitchen, “People always say that as if it's reassuring.”

You could hear him opening cupboard doors and the fridge. After a moment, his voice carried back into the living room, “Did you already have dinner?”

You didn't even look away from the television, “I ordered dinner.”

“Without me?” The offended tone in his voice made you smile despite yourself.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the kitchen armed with a bottle of water and one of his premade meals from the freezer now steaming thanks to the microwave. He dropped onto the opposite end of the couch and immediately stretched out like he'd been personally wronged by the entire day.

For a while, neither of you spoke as the television continued playing. Outside, Monaco buzzed with the anticipation that always came before a race weekend. Even from inside the apartment, you could feel it. The city had a different energy now than it had earlier in the week.

Tomorrow it would really begin and the realization had been sitting quietly in the back of your mind all day, apparently Lando had been thinking about it too.

“You know,” he said eventually, staring up at the ceiling, “It's probably going to be weird tomorrow.”

You turned your head, “Weird?”

“Walking into the paddock together,” The fact that he'd brought it up first surprised you.

You'd spent most of the day deliberately not thinking about it, “I hadn't considered that.”

“You're lying,” he said digging into his food.

You sighed, “Obviously I'm lying.”

“Thought so,” Lando sat up slightly, balancing one arm along the back of the couch, “It's not the cameras I'm thinking about.”

That caught your attention, “Is it the people?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged, “The cameras don't care they'll take pictures and move on, it's everyone else.” You understood immediately and the thought wasn't exactly comforting.

Lando seemed to notice your expression, “They'll probably be annoying for a week.”

You stared at him, his laugh filled the room, “I'm trying to be realistic.” For a moment, the tension eased and then it settled back into place not heavy enough to be uncomfortable, just present.

“You know what the worst part is?” you admitted.

Lando glanced over, “What?”

You hesitated before answering not because the thought was particularly personal but mostly because it sounded ridiculous, “I don't actually know how much we're supposed to act.”

His eyebrows lifted, “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” You gestured vaguely, “Are we supposed to hold hands? Sit together? Walk together all day? Nobody gave us instructions.”

Lando considered that, “That's because normal couples don't have instructions.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The whole reason this works is because we're not trying to script everything.”

You watched him for a moment, his answer sounded suspiciously reasonable actually, annoyingly reasonable.

“We'll figure it out,” The confidence in his voice made it sound simple, as if the next three days weren't about to put both of you under a microscope and walking into one of the most photographed race weekends on the calendar as a newly public couple was completely normal.

You sunk more I to the couch, “You're awfully calm about this.”

Lando smiled, “No, I'm just better at pretending.”

The honesty of the answer caught you off guard and for the first time all evening, neither of you had a joke ready. The silence stretched comfortably between you.

Then, inevitably, “We're still matching on Sunday.”

You groaned immediately, “There he is.”

“There who is?” He questioned.

“The real problem.”

Lando laughed and for the first time all day, the knot of anticipation sitting in your chest loosened slightly, tomorrow would come whether you were ready for it or not, at least you wouldn't be dealing with it alone.

Monaco was already awake by the time the two of you left the apartment. The city seemed to move differently on race weekends. Streets that had been relatively quiet a few days earlier were now crowded with team personnel, sponsors, journalists, and tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of someone important. Even from the passenger seat, you could feel the energy that seemed to settle over the entire principality whenever Formula One arrived.

Lando navigated the familiar roads with one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel. The radio played quietly in the background, though neither of you was really paying attention to it.

You were too busy watching the growing crowds the closer you got to the circuit, the sight should have been familiar by now but it wasn't, not really. Not when this weekend felt different. A camera flashed somewhere on the sidewalk as another driver's car passed in the opposite direction. You watched it disappear through the rear window.

“You know, if you keep staring out the window like that, people are going to assume you're planning your escape,” he said still focused on the road.

You turned your head just enough to look at him, “From what exactly?”

“The weekend. The paddock. Me. Take your pick.” You didn’t have anything to say because sadly he was right, what if this was a mistake.

“I'm just saying,” Lando continued when you didn't respond, “You've barely looked at your phone for the last ten minutes. Usually when you're trying not to think about something, you at least pretend to be busy.”

“And what makes you so certain I'm trying not to think about something?” you questioned.

A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, “Because I've known you long enough to recognize the difference between your normal face and your 'I am absolutely overthinking this but refuse to admit it' face.” You were surprised he could read you in such a short about of time you’ve been together.

Most people took far longer to notice when something was bothering you, and even then they usually got it wrong. Lando, somehow, seemed to have skipped that stage entirely. Before you could think too much about it, the car slowed. The familiar sight of the paddock entrance appeared ahead, surrounded by barriers, security, and more people than seemed reasonable for that time of the morning.

The conversation faded naturally. Reality had arrived. Lando switched off the engine and leaned back in his seat, letting out a slow breath before finally turning toward you. For the first time all morning, he looked slightly less certain than usual, “Are you ready to get into this?”

For a second, neither of you moved and the question hung in the air between you while the sounds of the paddock drifted in from outside The distant hum of activity that seemed to exist at every Formula One circuit.

Ready wasn't the right word but you doubted there was a right word and the weekend wasn't going to wait for either of you.

"As ready as I'm going to be," you said finally. Lando nodded once before pushing open his door.

The noise hit almost immediately. It wasn't loud exactly, but there was an energy to it that felt impossible to ignore. Everywhere you looked people were moving with purpose, paddock passes swinging from lanyards around their necks as they hurried between hospitality units and garages.

You stepped out beside him and adjusted the strap of your bag. Almost instantly, you noticed a camera pointing in your direction and then one turned into a dozen. The realization made your stomach tighten that people were already paying attention.

“Hey,” You glanced over, Lando was looking at you with an expression that was surprisingly understanding, “Don't look at them.”

You frowned, “How am I supposed to not look at them when they're taking pictures?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Look at me or just look forward and keep smiling.” Without making a big deal out of it, he stepped slightly closer as the two of you started toward the entrance. Not enough to feel forced but just enough that nobody looking at the two of you would question why you had arrived together.

The cameras followed as you approached the security you did your best to ignore them as Lando scanned yours and his pass. As you entered he made a bold move and held your hand bringing you closer to his side as you made your way to the motorhome.

Unfortunately, the paddock itself wasn't much less overwhelming. Every few metres someone seemed to stop Lando. One minute he was talking to you, the next he was greeting someone by name, asking about their morning, discussing the day's schedule, then somehow continuing your conversation exactly where he'd left off. You felt slightly like you'd been dropped into the middle of someone else's life.

As you walked hand in hand into the motorhome you heard a lady speak in your direction, “Ah there you are,” she looked between the two of you before her attention settled on you, “You must be y/n.”

You smiled politely, “I am.”

“It's lovely to finally put a face to the name.” Your eyes immediately flicked toward Lando, he of course, looked entirely unbothered.

“I've heard your name once or twice,” she added with a laugh, “Nothing scandalous, I promise.”

“That's reassuring,” You said smiling.

“I'm Sarah, by the way. Welcome to the madness,” She said and then smiled once more before being called away by someone further down the paddock.

You watched her go before turning to Lando as he led you further into the motorhome and toward the lounge area, “So you were mentioning me to people yesterday?”

He glanced over, looking almost confused by the question, “Of course I have.” The answer came so naturally that you didn't know what to do with it and before you could think too much about it, another familiar face appeared. Oscar approached with his hands tucked into his pockets, looking far too amused already.

“So,” he said, stopping in front of the two of you, “you're y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He extended his hand which you shook, then gestured to the girl next to him, “This is my girlfriend, Lily.” Long brown hair fell over her shoulders, and she looked entirely at ease, as though she'd been coming to race weekends her entire life.

She pulled you into a brief hug before you can even say hello and stepped back with a bright smile, “It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled, slightly surprised by the greeting.

“I was beginning to think you weren't real,” she continued, stepping back with a grin, “Lando only told us about you yesterday.”

You smiled, slightly surprised by the greeting.

“I was beginning to think you weren't real,” she continued, stepping back with a grin. “Lando only told us about you yesterday.”

A laugh escaped Oscar while Lando looked betrayed, “You're supposed to be on my side.”

Oscar snorted, “I don't think there's any helping you here, mate.”

You looked between the three of them before your eyes settled back on Lando, “You couldn't stop talking about me?”

He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and then sighed, knowing it was no use and he teasing would just get worse, “I hate all of you.”

Lily laughed loving his misery, “No, you don't.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself and unfortunately for him, you caught it and for some reason, the thought of him talking about you enough for everyone to remember your name sat in your mind a little longer than it probably should have.

Lily smiled and tugged on Oscar's hand, “Come on, let's give them a minute.”

Oscar looked disappointed, “I was enjoying this.” With one last amused glance in Lando's direction, the two of them disappeared further into the motorhome.

Silence settled between you, for the first time since arriving, it was just the two of you again. You both sat on the surprisingly comfortable couch and you looked at him and he looked anywhere but at you, “You really told them about me yesterday?”

Finally, he glanced over, “I thought it'd be weird if I just showed up this morning with a girlfriend no one knew existed.”

That was... actually fair, “So you gave them a warning?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Something like that.”

You waited a second and then said, “You know I’m not as bad as you think Norris.” He groaned softly, “Can we agree that Lily exaggerated?”

You considered it but just for the fun of it, “Probably not.”

A laugh escaped him despite himself then he looked at you, “You don't mind, do you?” he asked eventually. The question caught you off guard, that’s not something you expected him to ask truthfully, you weren't entirely sure how you felt about it. It was strange, learning that you'd occupied enough of his thoughts yesterday for him to bring you up to the people closest to him.

“No,” you said finally, “I don't mind.” Something in his expression softened, “Good.”

Before either of you can continue a voice boomed towards you all, “Is that who I think it is?” You both turned and a man with a paddock pass and a coffee in hand approached, smiling as he reached the two of you. You recognised him immediately, Zak Brown.

Lando straightened almost instinctively next to you and smiled, “Morning.”

“Morning,” Zak replied before his attention shifted to you, “And you must be y/n.”

You smiled politely and offered your hand, “I am, It's nice to meet you.”

His handshake was warm and easy, immediately putting you at ease, “You too. Welcome to the chaos.”

A small laugh escaped you, “I'm actually a little familiar with the chaos. My brother was a mechanic for karts when we were younger, so I practically grew up around circuits.”

Zak's eyebrows lifted with interest, “Is that right?”

You nodded, “I wasn't the one behind the wheel, but I spent enough weekends in kart paddocks to know how hectic race days can get. My main job was helping with the decals on the karts. If a sponsor sticker needed replacing or something had to be straightened, I was usually the one doing it.”

"So you've been part of a race team before," Zak said with a smile.

"I think 'part of the race team' is a generous way of putting it. I was mostly the unpaid sticker department." You replied

A laugh escaped him, “Trust me, every team needs one of those.”

Beside you, Lando grinned, “See? I told you she'd fit in here."

You looked at him, “I don't think replacing sponsor stickers on a kart qualifies me to work in Formula One.”

“Maybe not,” he said, still smiling, “but it does explain why you don't look completely terrified.”

You replied, “Trust me I am terrified, I was going to say I know what I'm getting myself into, but I'm not sure anything could've prepared me for Monaco.”

“That's probably fair,” Zak said, glancing around the busy motorhome, “Monaco tends to be chaos on another level but it’s special to us. I hope everyone is nice to you so far well.”

Eventually, someone called Zak's name from further down the motorhome. He glanced over his shoulder before looking back at the two of you, “I'd better go before they think I've disappeared.” He smiled warmly at you, “It was lovely meeting you, y/n. Enjoy the weekend.”

“You too,” you replied. With one last nod, he headed further into the hospitality area, already being intercepted by someone else before he'd made it more than a few steps.

The silence that followed was brief. Lando checked the time on his watch and let out a quiet sigh, “I should probably head to the garage.”

You nodded, “Probably.”

He looked almost reluctant to leave, which was slightly surprising, “I won't be gone long.”

You smiled faintly, “I think I can survive an hour without you.”

He corrected, “An hour and a half, actually.”

You wanted to laugh at his micromanaging, “Then I suppose I'll have to be brave.”

A laugh escaped him, “You're funny.”

You rolled your eyes and grinned, “I've been told.”

He shook his head before glancing toward the windows overlooking the paddock, “You can stay here if you want. There's coffee, food, and enough pastries to feed a small country.”

You looked around the hospitality unit. It had quietened considerably since you'd arrived, a few team members sat at tables with laptops open, while others moved in and out with an urgency that suggested the session was approaching, “I think I'll stay here.”

He nodded, “Okay.” But didn’t make a move to remove himself from the sofa. For a second, it felt like there was something else that should be said.

Instead, he smiled, “I'll come find you afterwards.”

“Good luck,” The smile on his face softened.

“Thanks,” Then he turned and disappeared toward the garage.

The motorhome felt strangely different once he was gone, quieter or maybe it only seemed that way because there was no longer anyone talking to you. You found a seat near one of the large windows overlooking the paddock and settled into it, tucking one leg beneath you.

Outside, the entire place seemed to move at twice the speed. Mechanics crossed from one garage to another carrying equipment, engineers walked with tablets in hand, and team members seemed to appear and disappear within seconds.

Everyone had somewhere to be, something to do and for the first time that morning, you simply sat and watched. You'd spent enough years around karting paddocks to recognise the feeling. The hours before a session always carried a certain energy to them. A nervous excitement. A sense that everything was building toward something.

Formula One, however, seemed to amplify it, everything was bigger, busier and more polished but underneath it all, it still felt familiar. A race weekend was a race weekend. You smiled to yourself at the thought, maybe this won’t be as bad as you'd first assumed.

A few minutes later, the television screens around the hospitality unit switched to the world feed. The graphics appeared and the commentators began their introductions.

Then the message flashed across the screen.

GREEN LIGHT - PIT EXIT OPEN.

Cars slowly filtered out onto the circuit, a McLaren was among the first. You didn't realize you were leaning forward slightly until you saw the familiar papaya car disappear around the bend, there he goes.

The thought appeared uninvited, you watched as his name climbed onto the timing screen. A few people around you continued working, barely paying attention to the television. You, however, found yourself watching every lap. You weren't entirely sure when that happened or why.

But somewhere between the introductions, the chaos of the morning, and Lando promising he'd come find you afterwards, you'd started caring about how his session went.

You frowned slightly at the realization. That seemed dangerous.

So you reached for your coffee and turned your attention back to the screens, pretending you hadn't had the thought at all.

You'd long since finished your coffee by the time the session ended.

The television screens around the hospitality unit switched from timing graphics to replays and interviews, and gradually the room began to fill again. Team members wandered in and out, some discussing strategy, others already moving on to whatever came next in their schedule.

You remained by the window, absentmindedly tracing your finger along the rim of your mug.

“Waiting for someone?” You looked up to find Lily smiling at you.

“A little obvious?” You played along.

“A little,” she laughed, taking the seat opposite you. “How’s your first race weekend coming along?”

“As someone's… girlfriend?” you asked, still stumbling slightly over the word. “Surprisingly okay.”

She smiled knowingly, “You'll get used to it.”

Before she could say anything else, movement outside caught your attention. A familiar flash of papaya orange, a few mechanics and then Lando. Still in his race suit, his curls slightly flattened from wearing his helmet, talking animatedly with one of the engineers as he walked toward the motorhome. Without meaning to, you sat up a little straighter whether it was out of nervousness or something else you weren’t sure.

Lily noticed immediately and a smile spread across her face, “Oh, that's cute.”

You frowned, “What is?”

“Nothing,” There was absolutely something but before you could question her further, the door opened and Lando stepped inside, scanning the room before his eyes landed on you.

His expression changed almost instantly. His smile softened, and despite the number of people around, he walked straight over, “Hey. Sorry that took longer than I thought.”

You shook your head, “I wasn't exactly busy.”

He smiled, “How was your afternoon?”

“Quiet. I watched practice,” You replied.

He looked surprised, “You watched all of it?”

“I had nothing else to do,” He looked suspiciously pleased by that answer, “How was it?”

You shrugged, “I understood more of it than I expected.”

“That's because you're secretly a motorsport expert,” He teased.

“I replaced stickers on karts,” You deadpanned.

Beside you, Lily stood up, “I'll leave you two to it.”

You started, “You don't have to—”

“I really do, besides I should go find Oscar as well," she said, looking entirely too amused. She squeezed your shoulder before disappearing up the glass staircase.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, “I think she enjoys embarrassing people.”

"Oh, definitely, especially me,” Lando dropped into the seat opposite you and let out a long sigh.

“Are you tired?” you questioned looking at his state.

“No, the session was pretty good.” He leaned back in his chair. “It's just Friday, lots of meetings and lots of talking.” You nodded, you understood that feeling.

Then he smiled, “So, are you ready to do all of this again tomorrow?”

You groaned, “No.”

He laughed, “That's fair.”

The drive back to the apartment was quieter than the drive that morning not in an awkward way more of both of you are tired.

Monaco had begun to settle as the evening drew in, the crowds thinning slightly now that practice was over. The moment you stepped through the apartment door, you kicked off your shoes, “I don't know how you do this every weekend.”

Lando laughed from somewhere behind you, “You get used to it.”

“I think I need to lie down for a week,” You disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two bottles of water, tossing one to him.

He caught it easily and after a sip he asked, “Can I get a review of your first day in the paddock?”

You sat and caught your breath for a moment, “It was loud, there were too many people, I learned approximately fifty new names and immediately forgot forty-eight of them.”

He laughed.

“But…” You paused, “No one was suspicious about anything and it wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be.”

A smile spread across his face, “I'm glad.”

You smiled, taking another sip of water. Outside, the sun was beginning to set over Monaco, painting the apartment in shades of gold and orange and tomorrow, you would do it all again. Yet, sitting there on the sofa, exhaustion settling into your bones, it didn't seem nearly as daunting as it had that morning, maybe because it no longer felt like you were doing it alone.

You glanced at Lando, he was already scrolling through his phone, looking entirely at home and, strangely enough, the apartment was beginning to feel a little like home too.

Saturday came even faster and the paddock felt completely different today. Yesterday had been busy, chaotic even, but there had still been a sense of ease to it. People had been smiling, stopping to chat, wandering in and out of the motorhome with coffees in hand.

Today, everyone had a purpose, the mechanics moved quickly around the car, engineers stared at screens full of numbers that meant absolutely nothing to you, and every now and then someone would speak quietly into a headset before disappearing somewhere else.

Even the air felt different, tighter, more focused. You stood off to the side, watching it all happen. In some ways, it reminded you of the karting paddocks you'd spent so much of your childhood in. The scale was entirely different, of course, but the feeling was the same.

The nerves and anticipation before something important. The unspoken understanding that everyone had a job to do, “You've gone quiet again.”

You turned to find Lando standing beside you, already changed into his race suit, “I don't think I've ever heard this place this quiet,” you said.

He looked around the garage and laughed softly, “This is quiet to you?”

“Not literally,” You smiled a little, “I mean… everyone looks serious.”

“That's because it's qualifying, tomorrow will be full blown noise and chaos,” he said coming to sit near you.

“As opposed to yesterday?” You questioned.

He shuffled and fiddled with his suit and said, “Yesterday was just practice,”

“Qualifying's kind of a big deal around here,” he explained, “Especially in Monaco. You can't really overtake much here, it’s narrow and a street circuit, so where you start is pretty important.”

You nodded slowly, “I think even I know that.”

He sarcastically answered, “Oh, wow. So you do listen when I talk.”

“I listen occasionally,” You said taking a sip of your drink

“Occasionally?” He questioned.

“Okay, more like selectively, usually when you're saying something interesting,” You corrected.

He looked personally offended, “I say interesting things all the time.”

Switching topics you glanced around the area once more, “You know I understand it, I just like to piss you off. We used to get like this before races, my brother I mean. He would be running around trying to make sure everything was ready and no one would really talk much until Max and you were in the kart.”

Lando glanced at you, “You miss it?”

The question surprised you and you considered it for a moment, “Sometimes. I don't miss waking up ridiculously early or standing in the rain for hours, but…” You smiled softly. “I miss the atmosphere.”

For a second, he didn't say anything, then a smile appeared on his face, “You fit in here more than you think.” You let out a quiet laugh.

“No, but understanding this…” He gestured around the garage, “Most people walk in here and look for a camera just to get noticed.”

Before you could respond, someone called his name from the other side of the garage, Lando looked over his shoulder before looking back at you, “I've got another meeting in a few minutes.”

“Of course you do,” you said and He laughed.

“You okay staying in here?” he made sure before standing up.

You blinked, “You've asked me that at least three times since yesterday and yes, I'm fine.”

“I know you're fine,” He stated. You folded your arms, “Then why do you keep asking?”

For the first time, he looked almost sheepish, “I don't know.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You don't know?”

“No,” He laughed softly, “I just… don't want you to feel like I've abandoned you, I mean I brought you into this situation for my benefit.”

The answer caught you off guard, you hadn't expected that, “I'll survive an hour on my own, Norris but I also benefit, remember our deal? I get to fix your dorky race suits."

“I know, I know,” he answered standing up.

“Then stop worrying,” you reassured him.

He smiled a little, “Can't help it.”

You shooed him away, “Now go and good luck.”

Sunday, race day was finally here and by the time the two of you arrived at the paddock, it was already buzzing with even more energy than the previous days. You could feel it everywhere. Team personnel moved with purpose, photographers seemed to be stationed at every corner, and fans lined the barriers hoping to catch a glimpse of the drivers before they disappeared into the garages.

The moment you stepped out of the car, you knew the matching outfits were going to be mistake or perhaps a very successful decision. You weren't entirely sure which but just as you two stepped out the car a camera flashed and then another. Successful it is.

At the entrance he scanned his pass and then yours, as you stepped in, he meshed your hands together leading you to wherever he was going. In the paddock you noticed a few people smiling in your direction, one of the photographers even called out, “Love the matching outfits!”

Lando looked over at you grinning from ear to ear, “See, I was right about the outfits.”

You rolled your eyes but thank god for your sunglasses he didn’t see, “Don't start.”

Unfortunately for you, he looked incredibly proud of himself and it only got worse the further you walked in, a few team members complimented your outfit, someone asked where your sunglasses were from and the icing on the cake, one of the women from hospitality smiled at the two of you and said, “You two look lovely today, the matching is very cute.”

Every single time, Lando looked a little more pleased with himself, by the third compliment, he looked downright insufferable.

“You need to stop smiling like that,” He glanced over at you, looking entirely innocent, “Like what?” You rolled your eyes and followed him toward his driver's room.

The room was considerably quieter than the chaos outside.

Lando moved around gathering his things while you sat in one of the chairs, taking in the relative calm.

“I think I've reached a point where I've accepted that this weekend is essentially one long social experiment.” You said playing with the strings of a team hoodie

He laughed, “A social experiment?”

You rocked back in the chair, tired already of this weekend, “Yes. You dropped me into Formula One and now we're all waiting to see if I adapt or start climbing the walls.”

He turned around, “You know, I don't think you've looked overwhelmed once today.”

You sighed, “I've become very good at pretending.”

While you both discussed how things were going so far while he got ready, after finishing he zipped up his bag, “So, hospitality today?” You told him today your would rather be in the garage, that people would get suspicious if you weren’t there. He agreed and you both made your way over there.

In the garage he placed you where you had a perfect view of the car and a monitor so you can see the race at all times. As you were getting used to the chaos once more, you were so busy watching the mechanics move around the car that you nearly missed someone stopping beside you, “Well, if it isn't our mystery woman.”

You looked up to find Zak smiling at you, “It's good to see you again, y/n.”’ He gestured toward the garage around you, “I'm glad you're getting a front-row seat to the drama today and who knows, maybe you'll bring lover boy some luck.”

You laughed slightly with guilt, “I don't know about that, but it's actually kind of nice being back around all of this. It feels more familiar than I expected.”

Zak responded, “You never know what will happen until the chequered flag falls, after all this is Monaco.” He turned away to leave but he spun around like he remembered something important, “Oh I almost forgot, tonight there’s a small get together on the Mclaren yacht to celebrate with all our sponsors that are here and we would all love for you to be there with Lando, nothing too formal, just dinner and drinks”

Your nerves heightened at the thought of going to meet all these business people and be put under a microscope but this was the point of the ‘relationship’. So you smiled and said, “Thank you Zak, I love would love to come.”

He nodded, “Fantastic, see you both there.” He smiled and walked away busily.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in just as Lando walked into your line of view, you signalled him over, “Zak just invited us to accompany him tonight for a get together with the sponsors that are here,” you spilled out quickly he almost laughed.

Lando noticed that you were a bit overwhelmed by it and tried to assure you, “This is what we’re doing this for remember, we just have to be convincing enough to get these old pricks and their daughters and nieces off my back.”

You nodded to agree, “Right. Now we have an audience, there are cameras everywhere and at least six people looking at us,” he said then wrapped his arms around you, “So, how about you wish your incredibly talented fake boyfriend good luck before his race?”

You reciprocated and hugged him as well, which surprisingly soothed your thoughts for the moment. What you didn’t know was that it did the same for him, “Good luck out there.”

He smiled, “I’ll see you after the race,” and turned making his way to the car and getting in.

Things took a turn in the atmosphere in the garage the moment the car stopped. You didn't need the commentators or the monitor to tell you something had gone wrong. One second, there had been the usual flurry of radio chatter and the low hum of anticipation that always seemed to fill the garage during a race. The next, everything felt still, heavier.

A few mechanics looked toward the screens. One of the engineers sighed quietly and removed his headset another rubbed a hand over his face before already beginning to discuss something with the person beside him. The race continued around them, but for this side of the garage, it felt over.

You had seen this before, same team, different drivers and different races. The disappointment never really changed. You looked back at the monitor.

DNF. Three incredibly frustrating letters for any driver or team to see.

Your stomach sank and a part of you wanted to ask someone what had happened, but another part knew it didn't matter right now because the result was the same.

Lando's race was over and a few minutes later, there was movement near the back of the garage. All heads turned to see Lando, he still had his helmet in one hand, though his grip on it seemed tighter than usual. The smile that usually found its way onto his face after climbing out of the car was nowhere to be seen.

He looked mentally disappointed. Several team members stopped him on the way in. A few words were exchanged, a hand briefly landed on his shoulder, and then he continued walking straight to you and stopped and exhaled, “Well that was terrible.”

You looked at him for a moment then at the helmet in his hand, “I did have a feeling the race wasn't going particularly well when your car stopped moving.”

A laugh escaped him despite himself, “You really know how to make someone feel better.”

You watched him carefully, “I try.” You reached over and took the helmet from him he blinked, “What are you doing?”

You answered setting down the helmet, “You look like you're about to strangle someone with it.”

He smiled, “I wasn't.”

You looked at him, “You thought about it.”

He laughed confirming, “I thought about it.”

You folded your arms, “You know, you used to throw your gloves every time you had a bad karting race.” His eyebrows shot up surprised that you remembered that. You continued, “You usually felt better afterwards, if you'd like to throw something, I think there's a tyre over there.”

He busted out laughing, that was all you’d been aiming for. The two of you remained there for a while longer, watching the rest of the race play out on the monitors. Every now and then, someone would come over to speak with Lando, and every time they did, he looked a little less disappointed than before.

Eventually, the garage began to empty and someone reminded him about the gathering on the yacht later that evening. He looked like he'd completely forgotten about it and frankly so had you.

The drive back to the apartment was much quieter than the drive to the circuit had been that morning. Monaco was still alive outside the windows, the city celebrating another race weekend, but inside the car there was a strange sort of calm.

You caught him staring out at the harbour once or twice, his thoughts clearly still at the circuit, you left him to them.

The apartment was silent when you walked inside, the one that existed after a long day. Lando dropped his keys onto the counter and stood there for a moment before sighing.

Then he looked over at you, “You know, I briefly considered pretending I was too sad to go to the yacht tonight.”

You slipped your shoes off, “And let me suffer through meeting a boat full of rich strangers by myself? That's incredibly selfish of you.”

A laugh escaped him, “I was wondering when you’d start being mean to me again.”

You frowned, “I wasn't aware I'd stopped.”

He smiled, and for the first time since the race ended, it looked genuine. You disappeared down the hallway to your room, only to reappear a few moments later and he was still standing in exactly the same spot, “You should probably shower.”

He looked up, “I know.”

You felt pity for him, “You look like you've been emotionally run over.”

He laughed softly “That's one way of putting it.”

Getting tired of his antics you told him, “I'm serious. We have to go pretend we're a happy couple in an hour at least look presentable.”

He stared at you for a second then another smile appeared, “You really do care in the strangest ways.”

Immediately uncomfortable, you folded your arms, “I care that I don't want to spend an evening with someone who looks like he's about to attend his own funeral.”

That only made him laugh again. And annoyingly enough, hearing it made something in your chest feel lighter. You rolled your eyes, “Go shower, Norris.”

He was still smiling as he disappeared down the hall. Left alone in the living room, you leaned back against the sofa and let out a long breath. The day had been exhausting.

The weekend had been exhausting. And yet, as you thought about the evening ahead, one thing became abundantly clear. You were significantly less nervous about the yacht than you had been earlier, which was either a very good sign or a very bad one.

credits to @uzmacchiato for the dividers

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