Chapter Text
They had partied too hard—far too hard.
The club was hazy with smoke and flashing with neon strobes, music pounding heavy enough to make the floor thrum beneath their shoes. Max was weaving through the crowd, still grumbling about the drink some stranger had spilled on his shirt—when Lando came charging in from the opposite direction. Neither of them had the coordination left to dodge. Their foreheads smacked together with a hollow thud, and the impact sent them both crashing to the floor.
The fall wasn't graceful in the slightest. Max swore under his breath, rubbing at his temple as he tried to push himself upright. He was about to snap at Lando, but before he could, his friend scrambled up first.
"What the fuck?! Is that me? Max?!" Huh? Weird? Why was Max suddenly listening to his own voice panicking?
Max blinked blearily, confused, the bass still thudding in his skull. He hadn't even properly looked at Lando yet when suddenly the figure (Lando?) grabbed him by the collar.
"What the hell—" Max groaned, stumbling as Lando yanked him to his feet. He was far too drunk for this, but Lando was relentless, dragging him off the dance floor. The crowd didn't even notice—the bodies around them were too busy moving to the beat.
They burst into the bathroom, the door slamming shut and locking with a click. The throb of the music dulled behind the tiles, and for the first time all night, the air was still.
Max shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness. "Lando, was that you? Mate, seriously—what's your problem?"
Instead of answering, the figure stepped in close, staring straight into Max's face. Too close. Too intense.
"Huh?" Max muttered, swaying slightly. Then his drunken haze twisted into something absurd. "Wait a second...is that—my face?"
A laugh tore out of him suddenly, bright and sharp, echoing off the walls. He staggered back with a grin. "Oh my God. No way. I'm absolutely fucked, way too drunk for this shit."
The face—Max's face—didn't laugh back at him. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed, and before Max could say another word, Max's face grabbed his chin and yanked it toward the mirror above the sink.
Max's grin faded instantly. His eyes widened, the sound catching in his throat.
Because the one staring back at him wasn't his face.
It was Lando's. The curls and the blue-green eyes.
"What the fuck?" The words came out almost high pitched, wrong, in a voice that wasn't his own. He touched his cheek slowly, and in the mirror, Lando's features mirrored the motion back at him.
Behind Max, his own body—definitely occupied by Lando—scowled.
"Exactly." Lando muttered through clenched teeth. "We're fucked."
The club felt like a fever dream behind them by the time they stumbled out into the cool night air. Lando fished in his pockets with shaking hands until he found Max's keys before he gave it to Max—Max's keys in Max's hand—no, Lando's hand. Well, technically it was Max's hand now.
Fuck. It was all backwards, and his head was pounding like a drum.
They made it to Max's car. Max yanked open the driver's side door automatically before remembering he wasn't even himself anymore. Still, he climbed in, and Lando followed, sitting on the passenger seat before slamming the door shut.
Inside, it was quiet at last.
Max slumped against the seat, pressing the heels of his palms to his temples. "God, my head..." He muttered. This situation was too fucking absurd.
Next to him, Lando was a coiled spring of panic. He was pacing his hands through his hair—Max's hair, breathing fast. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! What are we gonna do?" He hissed, his voice cracking. "This isn't normal. This is—this is body-snatcher shit!"
Max exhaled hard, leaning forward until his cheek nearly touched the steering wheel. "I don't know." He muttered, voice low. "Maybe if I just—" He was about to slam his face against the steering wheel—
A hand shot out and grabbed Max by the shoulder.
"Are you fucking stupid?!" Lando snapped, his voice booming in the tight space of the car. "That's my fucking face you're slamming!"
Max froze, blinking. It was deeply unsettling to see his own face twisted up like that, his own eyes glaring at him, his own jaw clenched. "God..." He said, sitting back again. "You look almost terrifying when you're mad, you know that?"
"Yeah? Well, now you know how I feel when you're actually mad at me." Lando shot back, but his hands were trembling on his thighs. He looked seconds away from tearing his hair out.
Max swallowed, forcing himself to focus. "Okay. Listen. We're not gonna fix anything if we—if you freak out. We've gotta...I don't know, think."
Lando let out a choked laugh, half-hysterical. Max almost cringed hearing his own voice made that kind of sound. "Think? We swapped bodies, Max! This isn't a tyre type of shit strategy, you can't just think your way out of it!"
Max turned the key in the ignition anyway, the low rumble filling the car. He gripped the wheel tight, trying to ignore how wrong it felt to see Lando's hands on it instead of his own.
"Just—stop panicking, okay?" Max said, sighing. "Stop screaming shit. It's fucking weird looking at my face making those panicked and worried looks."
Lando's hands—Max's hands—came up, palms out, trembling a little. "Okay, okay," He said, trying to calm himself. "Okay. We all need to calm down."
"Lando—" Max started, but Lando cut him off, his voice blaring up.
"Fuck! What am I gonna say to Oscar?!"
"Are you crazy?!" Max barked, turning to stare at him. "We're not going to tell anyone about this!"
"What?!" Lando gaped at him, his own (Max's) eyes wide. "What do you mean we're not going to tell anyone about this problem?"
"Okay, first thing first," Max said firmly, twisting his body toward him. "I don't want you to talk about this to anyone. I mean, just look at us! It's fucking crazy! You think anyone would believe it?!"
Lando groaned, dragging his hands to his own face—Max's face—and muttered. "Okay, fuck. It's so damn weird arguing with my face. I think I'm about to throw up."
"Don't you fucking dare!" Max shot back instantly, glaring. "Not in my car!"
Lando froze mid-heave, then slumped back against the seat, groaning again. "This is so messed up..."
Max leaned back too, exhaling hard, trying to think. His head pounded with more than just the alcohol now.
"Okay, seriously, calm the fuck down. We need a plan, Lando."
"What plan?!"
Max groaned, rubbing his temples before his eyes looked at Lando again. "You know, how to behave in front of other people. Especially in front of your boyfriend and my boyfriend."
Lando finally gave him a look that was half-curiosity, half-horror. "Oh—right. Our boyfriends." His mouth twitched. "This is brilliant." He said, sarcastically.
"We need to pretend to be each other." Max said bluntly. "You need to start acting like me, and I need to start acting like you. Make sure no one suspects a thing. Don't make them feel suspicious."
Lando made a mocked sound. "You? Acting like me?" His mouth quirked up. "First—stop using that grumpy cat look as a default face. You need to smile more when you want to be like me."
Max glared. "Then you need to stop smiling too much when you're me."
Lando pouted. Actually pouted—using Max's face. This fucking bastard.
"You're seriously no fun." Lando muttered.
"Stop with the fucking pouting! You make me want to punch you!" Max snapped.
Lando gasped dramatically before breaking into a laugh. "Max, you can't do that! This is your face!"
"Because especially it's my face!" Max shot back. "Do you rather I punch your face instead?" He pointed a finger at his own face—Lando's face.
"Okay, now you need to calm down," Lando said, still wheezing with laughter. "No punching!"
Max really wanted to slam his head against something. Of all people, why did he have to get swapped with Lando fucking Norris? He felt tired already just thinking about it—he had to act like Lando. Sweet and bright, McLaren's charming boy. It was a role so far from himself it made his skin crawl.
"Real talk, Lando." Max said at last, dragging a hand down his borrowed face. "We need to make this work."
"Of course. I get it." Lando said quickly, nodding.
"Seriously stop smiling too much!" Max barked when Lando's mouth curved again. It was weird seeing his own face smile like that.
Lando just laughed, tilting his head. "Then you need to smile more."
Max groaned loudly as he leaned forward again, his forehead thunk against the steering wheel for a second before snapping back up again. "Will Oscar stay with you this break? Because I plan to stay with Charles."
That made Lando go rigid. His eyes went wide with Max's face. "What the fuck?! Why didn't you tell me the most important part?! I will stay in Charles' house??"
Max rolled his eyes. "My house, his house—what makes it different? At the end you still need to keep up the facade. The fucking act."
"Fuckkkk." Lando dragged his hands to his face—Max's face—in frustration. "Okay. Okay. Oscar is staying with me this break, he's going to come to my house tonight."
Max froze. "What the fuck?! Now why are you just telling me that now?! I have to meet Oscar tonight!?"
"I mean, I didn’t even know we would end up in this situation!" Lando pulled his hands away as he shot Max a look, his voice rising. "Actually I even had a plan to call Oscar so he could pick me up from this club! But of course, look at us now!"
"Fucking hell!" Max slammed both hands against the steering wheel, the horn blaring for a split second before he yanked them off. His head dropped back against the seat as he let out the longest, most exhausted groan of his life.
This was going to be a fucking nightmare.
The drive to Lando's house felt like it stretched for hours even though it was only twenty five minutes. Max sat stiff behind the wheel. He could practically feel Lando's eyes—Max's eyes—on him from the passenger seat the entire time. It was so fucking weird.
The closer they got, the tighter the knot in Max's stomach pulled.
Finally, they rolled to a stop near Lando's house. The night air outside seemed heavy and quiet compared to the chaos of the club. Max killed the engine, and the silence fell between them.
"Okay," Lando said at last, unbuckling his seatbelt. His voice was tight, but calmer now. "It's time for you to go. We'll have to talk about this again soon—very soon. Preferably when we're more sober."
Max nodded, blowing out a breath. "Agreed."
Max leaned forward, squinting at the house. Something didn't sit right. "Hey Lando, why are the lights on? Pretty sure when I picked you up, you had turned them off."
Lando blinked. "Wait, what?! Let me see—" He leaned across Max for a better look out the windshield. His voice cut off with a sharp inhale. "Oh fuck! Max!"
Max whipped his head toward him. "What? What?!"
"I think it's Oscar! I think he's here already!"
"Seriously?!" Max's heart jumped to his throat. He wasn't ready for this—not this soon.
"Okay. Okay. Here's the plan." Lando reached out and grabbed Max's shoulders, and for a second Max just froze, staring at the sight of his own hands gripping his own body. He still wasn't used to it—seeing his own face talking back at him, his own eyes staring into him like a mirror.
"Act normal," Lando said firmly. "Smile. Be me. Don't be you, Max. I'm serious!"
Max swallowed, staring back at Lando—at himself. "Right. Act normal. Smile. Be you." He tried a smile, but it came out stiff, the kind of smile that screamed hostage photo.
Lando winced. "God. Not like that. Relax your face. Less serial killer, more charming and tender."
Max groaned. "This is insane."
Lando squeezed Max's shoulders again, a tight grin on his face—Max's face. "Yeah, well, welcome to my life. Now pull yourself together and get out. My boyfriend is waiting."
Max forced his legs to move, his chest felt tight, every step heavier than it should've been. Finally, he stood in front of the door, tried to breathe normally, and pushed it open.
The lights inside felt too bright after the darkness of the car. Max slipped in, shutting the door quietly behind him—only to nearly jump out of his skin.
Oscar was right there in front of Max.
He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, one shoulder braced casually but his expression was anything but casual. His mouth was pulled tight, his eyes sharp.
"Fuck," Max muttered under his breath before he could stop himself. Then, scrambling. "Uhh...hi?"
Oscar let out a low chuckle, but there was no warmth in it. The sound made Max's stomach clench. The way Oscar's eyes dragged over him—no, over Lando—wasn't right. Too heavy. Too sharp. There was tension here that Max hadn't prepared for.
"Where did you go?" Oscar asked, voice deceptively light. He pushed off the wall, closing the space between them in a few easy steps.
Max's throat went dry. "Didn't I tell you...? I went to the club with Max."
Yeah. That sounded reasonable. That was safe. He forced a little grin, hoping it looked natural on Lando's face.
Oscar's brow arched. "Tell me? When exactly did you tell me that?"
Max froze. Shit. Shit, shit. Lando hadn't told him. Lando hadn't told Oscar anything.
Max's heart kicked up, but he forced out a laugh—Lando's laugh, or at least his best attempt. "Sorry, Osc. Must've slipped my mind." He tried to soften it with a playful chuckle, the kind Lando could pull off so easily.
It didn't land.
Oscar didn't laugh. Didn't even crack a smile. He just moved closer, deliberate and slow, and Max's body reacted before his mind did. He stepped back.
And fuck—Max hated it, he noticed it right away with him inside Lando's body. Oscar was slightly taller. Broader. Max could feel that imbalance in a way he wasn't used to. His pulse quickened.
"You really do love this, don't you, Lando?" Oscar's voice was low, edged with something sharp that made Max's skin crawl.
Max flinched when his back hit the door. The solid thud behind him made it clear he had nowhere else to go.
"You just love getting me mad, riling me up—don’t you?" Oscar's mouth twitched into a smile that wasn't kind. "How many times do I have to tell you? I don't like it when you go somewhere without telling me."
Before Max could even think of what to say, Oscar's hand was on his chin. Rough. Firm. The grip made his jaw ache instantly, forcing his head up until he had no choice but to meet Oscar's eyes.
Max tried not to show it, tried not to cringe, but the shock rippled through him. He hadn't expected this. Not from Oscar.
On the paddock, Oscar was reserved, calm, always measured with his words and actions. He had seemed steady, rational, the easy balance to Lando's firecracker charm. That's what Max thought he knew.
But here—with Oscar's hand too tight on his face, Lando's face—this was different. This Oscar was different.
Controlling.
Demanding.
Dangerous in a way Max had never seen before.
And the worst part was—Max couldn't even call him out on it. Couldn't snap, couldn't push back, couldn't be himself. He had to keep the mask on, had to stay Lando, even as his stomach twisted with unease.
"Oscar," Max croaked, his voice cracking, but he forced it lighter, tried to find Lando's tone. "You're overreacting. It's just a club, nothing happened. Don't—don't be mad, yeah?"
But Oscar's eyes darkened as his grip tightened just a little more, and Max's pulse spiked.
"Overreacting, you say?" Oscar murmured, voice low and curling around Max's nerves. His face was suddenly so close to Max. "Now you're just getting too brave, baby."
Max swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay calm. He needed to stay calm. "I'm sorry, Oscar."
Oscar chuckled, a sound that made Max's stomach knot. "Are you really?"
Max nodded quickly, desperately, hoping it was how Lando would respond.
"Words, baby." Oscar pressed, eyes glinting.
Shit. Words? Max's throat worked, he tried to push them out. "I...really am sorry."
Hearing it in Lando's voice while knowing he was the one saying it made Max's skin crawl. Everything about this felt wrong.
"Great," Oscar said softly, thumb dragging against Max's jaw. "You know how this is going to go, don't you, baby?"
Max's heart stuttered. He almost jumped when Oscar's lips brushed his earlobe, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of panic straight down his spine.
"I need you to prep yourself in the bathroom, okay?" Oscar's tone was casual, like this was normal, routine. "Make it quick. You know I won't be gentle with you tonight, yes?"
Max's eyes almost went wide at that. What? WHAT?! Oh, this is not happening. Shit, shit, shit. But he had to stay as Lando. He had to.
"Oscar—" Max started, but yelped when Oscar's fingers dug harder into his chin, a sharp little warning.
"Yes or no," Oscar said, voice hard now. "If not yes, I don't mind go raw too. You also like that."
Max's mouth moved before his brain could catch up. "Yes! I'll prep myself first."
Oscar's expression turned instantly into something satisfied. "Good." His hand finally dropped away. "I'll be waiting in the bedroom, okay, baby?"
Max nodded without thinking, still frozen.
Oscar gave him one last look, then turned and walked through the hallway like nothing was out of place, leaving Max standing there in Lando's body, his heart hammering so hard he thought it might crack his ribs.
He really needed to call Lando.