Work Text:
Liam hated being away from Arvid.
Kaleb suggested a road trip, only seven and a half hours between Monaco and Barcelona, but Liam wanted to be at the track as soon as he could; of course, his best friend had so many complaints about that.
Kaleb was stubborn, but he wasn't unfair. Liam knew deep down the brunette meant it from a place of love. They used to spend all their time together, and since they were the only two Kiwis around, they had to stick together.
Liam really missed Arvid.
Since the older of the Kiwis had forced him into a day trip to Nice, he'll have to hear all about how much Liam missed his man.
Through his lashes, the blonde observes as the older driver rolls his eyes over lunch, plates of decadent Mediterranean food, and Liam just keeps bringing up the Brit, mourning his loss as if they haven't been separated for a day.
Eventually, Kaleb gets tired of the sighs. With a groan, he startles Liam out of his daydream: "Bro, just shut up!" The blonde snaps his eyes up to meet the older's brown, "You're insufferable, just because I'm fine with it doesn't mean I want to hear about the bloke all the time."
Guilt hits the blonde almost immediately, and he lowers his head toward his plate, forking up some greens in silence while the man across him continues staring at him.
Kaleb feels some sympathy because, not long after, the older driver sighs, "Liam, I didn't mean it like that."
"I know," Liam says softly. He's known Kaleb for most of his life; he might be rash and hotheaded, but he isn't mean. "I'll stop talking about it."
There were only three days left until the Barcelona Grand Prix events would start, three days for the two Kiwis to get to Spain, and three days until Arvid fills his life again.
---
Liam tried not to talk about Arvid; nevertheless, he showed anything that hinted at the younger driver during the three days he had spent with Kaleb. Instead, the blonde was laser-focused on the road. On the few occasions when the two Kiwis stopped for a sight or to hike, he stayed true to his goal, holding it back, counting down the days and the hours in his mind. He saw the Brit in his dreams, felt his phantom touch, and kept his eyes on the kilometres left until they reached the Spanish border.
Kaleb seemed to appreciate it; he seemed to look forward to the lively Spanish bars, filled with pretty girls and Grand Prix week always had the central city filled to the brim with entertainment at every corner. Liam's never been one for dancing, clubbing, or even drinking, but now he dreaded those loud, bright rooms even more.
This time around, he had a better idea of how to spend his nights and cherish his time.
Racing Bulls, like some of the other teams, had placed their staff at the W Hotel. Unfortunately for Kaleb, the rooms had reached capacity, and the older driver had to find hospitality elsewhere.
But that also meant that Liam was alone for the first time in four days, no obnoxious Kiwi in his ear, Arvid still busy on his plane from Portugal, and the staff already struggling to find order in their cramped schedule before the race.
Passing the time as best he could, the Kiwi first visited the gym, where he met Franco on the treadmills, the two briefly acknowledging one another before going their separate ways. The 2025 rookie group chat had made plans to meet for dinner. Oliver, the mastermind of the chat, knew to schedule it a day before any official duties were in line for them, giving the group a nice place to unwind before the chaos of media day consumes them.
Despite Kimi leading the championship, and most of the other drivers well within the midfield, Liam, especially, the dinner was calm, fun, and even. That was until Kimi brought up Monaco.
"So, Liam, I spotted Arvid around in Monaco a lot. Is he planning on moving there?" The Italian asks between bites, his gaze curious, but his words catch the attention of the other drivers.
Oliver quickly passes him a knowing look. Arvid had informed him that the two Brits had been in conversation about him over the past several months, but Liam didn't know the limits of his knowledge. He knows that Gabi is also aware, especially since the three of them live in the same building.
"Uh, I'm not sure if that's for me to answer." He says instead, and it's not a bad response; it really is not his place to say where Arvid lives, especially on a rookie salary.
The Mercedes driver gives him a slow nod; he knows that Kimi does not fully believe him, but he's grateful that he lets the question up. That is, until Isack finally lifts his head from his plate of food, the Frenchman with a curious glint in his eye when he acknowledges the conversation.
"You two have been getting really close, haven't you?" He chuckles, stabbing at the fish on his plate, "It makes me miss our time together at VCARB last year."
Liam does too; he misses the moments they had during the last season. Isack was there for him after his demotion. He was there as Liam struggled through a breakup. The season was tough, but Isack helped make it tolerable. "I miss it too, but at least you aren't filming anything anymore, mate."
Laughter spreads through the table. The VCARB videos are a fan favourite throughout the season. The media team is superb at their job, and it helps alleviate some tension for Liam knowing that it's good PR, but more importantly, great fun, especially with Arvid.
The Frenchman rolls his eyes, focusing back on the fish on his plate, mumbling, "I'd rather film content than be stuck in the RB22."
Everyone knows how inconsistent the RB22 is. Isack is doing an amazing job despite the challenges, but the season has been rough. The conversation rolls away from Liam, shifting into topics like the 2027 grid changes, potential retirements, and other ideas that Liam finds himself zoning out of. His phone reads eighteen hours forty-six minutes into the day, but still no Arvid.
Eventually, the other drivers finish their meals; some are already tired enough for sleep, others opt for the training room, which he had just occupied. This leaves Oliver and himself, who decide to call it a night as well. Their rooms are on the same floor, and they have a brief conversation before going to their respective rooms. Oliver acknowledges that they have an interview together, and Liam engages him about the World Cup despite Oliver's lack of knowledge of the event.
Once they reach the younger driver's room, the Brit doesn't immediately go into the room; he stalls for a second, his eyebrows creased like something is on his mind.
"Are you okay, mate?" Liam asks, also stopping in his tracks.
Oliver looks flustered, but he manages to speak anyway, "I know about your relationship, Liam." He starts, in the second he takes to continue, Liam's pulse rises through the roof, awaiting the next words, "I just wanted to say that I'm here to support you, please let me know if there's anything that I could do."
The blonde sighs in relief, giving the younger driver a small nod, before responding, "It means the world, Ollie. But, I'd rather not have it spread, though, not yet at least."
The brunette scoffs slightly, but he nods back, flashing the Kiwi a small smile and a brief wave, "Have a nice night, Liam."
"Goodnight, Ollie."
Liam supposes it's both a blessing and a curse that a good amount of the grid knows something is going on, but not exactly everything. He is still humiliated that not only Max, but also Yuki had figured out before he did, not to mention Rafa, and presumably the entire VCARB staff.
His own room isn't far from Oliver's, and by the time he enters, it's already night outside, the Barcelona skyline lit in warm hues. Liam decides on a shower before bed and completes his night with a YouTube video reviewing the track he'll be racing. He knows that it wouldn't help his anxiety, but it helps curb his boredom.
A notification at the top of his screen steals his attention; the contact brings a rush of butterflies to his stomach.
Arvid: I just arrived, the W right?
Liam: Yeah, VCARB always has us in the same hotel.
Arvid: Just checking
Jeez.
Liam: I'm sorry!
Arvid: 304
Make it up to me
With his keycard in hand and a pair of shorts on, the blonde is quick out of his room, his slides haphazardly hanging on while he sprints down the hall, almost colliding with an Audi staff member and narrowly avoiding Charles Leclerc, who doesn't look too happy with him as he bolts by.
The text hasn't even reached the 2-minute reminder period when Liam is in front of 304, his hair still moist, and a shirt nowhere to be found. The sliding of the lock and the creaking of the door are all it takes before the blonde lunges toward the Brit, Arvid meeting him halfway.
"Apology accepted." The younger driver chuckles in his ear, his arms refusing to let go. Liam doesn't want him to let go. He buries his head deep into the crook of Arvid's neck, holding on tighter. "Someone missed me."
The blonde quickly nods, pressing further into Arvid, "I did."
Arvid hums, deep in his throat, as he holds Liam tighter. "Good, cause I missed you too." After a moment of Arvid petting his hair, the Brit gently pulls them into the room before someone could catch them.
Liam eventually pulls away; he sits down on the bed, Arvid standing above him, his eyes glossy, white teeth catching his bottom lip.
"I missed you so much," Arvid whispers. He leans down toward the blonde, and a tanned hand comes to lift his chin, fingertips brushing along the stubble. Arvid's lips are soft; it's everything Liam remembers, everything that he's dreamt of over the past four days without the Brit.
Arvid's other hand is pressed on Liam's upper pec, pushing him down on the bed. At the same time, the younger driver continues capturing the Kiwi's lips, the lighting capturing every one of Arvid's sharp angles, making him look almost Godlike in the warm yellow of the tableside lamp.
"You showed up at my door looking like this?" Arvid mumbles, his voice low, "All I can think about is how good you look. How many people saw you like this, not knowing that you're all mine?"
Liam muffles a whimper, the heat pooling in his stomach, while Arvid keeps praising him in between kisses. The Barcelona heat has nothing on Arvid's warmth, his clothed chest pressing against Liam, his lips hungry, and his eyes dark. Arvid's name is all he has on his mind; any other thought extinguished by the passion the younger driver pours into him, with every touch and every whisper.
Arvid tugs at his hair, a squeak squeezing out of Liam's lips. "You're so lucky we have a race coming up," he says, biting at the blonde's earlobe, "I'm so glad you're here with me again."
"It was worth the wait," Liam whispers between them, leaning up to kiss pink lips. He knows he looks like a mess, his hair still damp, cheeks red, his heartbeat is going crazy, but all that is important is in front of him.
He shivers under Arvid's touch, almost choking on his own spit when the Brit's fingers poke under his waistband, his pointer finger rubbing circles on his hipbone.
"Fuck, you're being so good for me."
The words sink straight into the blonde, his back arching involuntarily.
"But we do have media day tomorrow, and it's getting late."
“Arvid.” Liam whines.
Between the Brit's pointer and thumb, Liam's chin is lifted. Arvid kisses him again, brushing damp blonde curls back. Satisfied, the younger driver rolls over to lie next to him, interlocking their hands while they stare at the ceiling.
"You don't have any idea how long I've been waiting for that. For you."
"I know," Liam responds, "I've been dreaming about this since you left on Sunday."
With a chuckle, Arvid rolls over to face him, their hands still interlocked, trimmed nails brushing along his calluses. Arvid looks surreal in the lighting, half his face in shadow, his eyes sharp but drooping with exhaustion.
The blonde pulls him in, pressing their foreheads together. The drive finally catching up to him, Liam doesn't know when he drifts off; he only feels the kiss on his forehead and the weight of the one he loves next to him.
---
Liam wakes up to the sound of a running sink and quiet singing; his tired brain can't keep up with the lyrics, but Arvid's voice is enough to wake him up, both English and Korean words working in harmony while the younger driver meticulously styles his hair.
Eventually, Arvid catches him looking, a smug grin spreading over his face, while Liam continues to admire curly brown hair; he looks dreamlike, and the Kiwi feels drunk on him.
"Good morning, pretty boy," Arvid giggles, making his way back to the bed where the blonde is tucked, a thin blanket over his torso. Cold fingers come to cup his cheek, the Brit's minty lips kissing the bridge of his nose. "I love your freckles; they complement you so well."
"I love you," Liam responds without thinking, delicately reaching up to touch the perfect brown curls as if he's in worship.
The song continues in the background, Arvid looking at him like he's starstruck, simultaneously with the lyrics, the Brit sings, "Oh, you make me go. Crazy over you, you, baby."
The Kiwi is slow to lift himself from the bed, Arvid moving toward his belongings while he sorts out clothes for the day. The Brit's phone is placed by the sink, Enhypen on blast when Liam opens it to check the time. He's due at the circuit in an hour and a half.
Unwrapping the complimentary hotel toothbrush, the thought hits Liam that he's shirtless and a floor below where he should have been. He's already run into Charles, but now that the rest of the grid is awake, he's not too sure his PR manager would enjoy any more complaints.
He pushes the thought aside, focusing instead on the state of his messy hair. Quickly, the blonde brushes at the loose strands of hair, his teeth brushed and rinsed, he makes his way to where Arvid is currently sitting, his kit sitting on the desk chair while the Brit irons his pants.
As if on cue, the younger driver unplugs the iron, a smug expression on his face.
"Come here," he nudges in a commanding tone. Liam follows in his order before the Brit pulls him toward the desk.
The shirt that had lain on it slips over Liam's shoulders, Arvid's fingers brushing against his skin every so often in his attempts to guide it onto the Kiwi. It's the VCARB kit, Liam knows that much, but with the 41 on the back, it's obvious who the shirt belongs to.
"Now everyone knows who you belong to," Arvid whispers in his ear, ringed fingers tilting his chin to face the mirror.
A furious blush lights up the New Zealander's face, the freckles Arvid mentioned now dotting his cheeks like stars in the sky. Wordlessly, he turns to face the younger driver, dark eyes looking at him with the same adoration he's seen since they've met.
"If you spend any more time standing here, you're going to be late for the presser, pretty boy."
Liam can find the words to respond, but instead he settles on pressing a peck onto Arvid's lips, a goodbye on his tongue despite knowing it'll be a few short hours before they're reunited once more.
The blonde doesn't acknowledge the weight of what Arvid's just done until he reaches the circuit, almost forty minutes after, his stomach in knots when he enters the paddock, cameras immediately on him and curious journalists cornering him, hungry for comments, anything to explain why he has his teammate's number on his back. Admin immediately takes note of the change, their amused eyes roll in unison while they brainstorm ideas for the social channels.
He passes Charles on the way to the conference room, the driver chuckling at him, his expression knowing, while he completely disregards the incident from last night, greeting him with a brief wave and a smirk. 44 is proudly displayed on his jersey, something Liam has no idea how to explain, but he's glad to know he won't be the only one with an alternative number. The media can't spin his situation as unique, nevertheless noteworthy.
But as he's waiting for the press conference to start and the arrival of Oliver and Fernando, the F1 social account catches his attention, with multiple drivers and fans tagging him in a specific post.
Because Arvid had just arrived at the circuit, the number 30 was proudly displayed on his back. His glasses are dark enough to combat the Mediterranean sun, but behind the shades, Liam can already see his knowing smirk as he struts through the paddock without a care in the world.
It can easily be explained by a laundry mix-up or a PR stunt, but Liam knows different, and once Oliver enters the room, the amused tint in his brown eyes signals that he does too.
Liam doesn't get any questions about the shirt; the journalists are more concerned with matters like the World Cup and the weight of Fernando's home race and future in the sport. Or maybe they already know the meaning of the shirt, the weight of the two numbers on his back, claiming him for someone else.
The interview isn't problematic; Oliver makes sure of it, the two of them chatting up a storm, while dodging past the obvious. Fernando looks left out of their conversation, but he's occupied enough by the press. Soon enough, they're released from the room and return to their respective buildings.
Before Liam can fully enter the VCARB building, Kaleb, who got access to the paddock using the spare VIP pass under Liam's name, begins to bother him for the keys to their rental car. A grateful expression marred with a hint of amusement when he laid his eyes on the numbering on the blonde's back. The older Kiwi quickly waves him off, darting toward the car park, leaving Liam to continue into the hospitality.
That's when the social team decides to corner him, right when he enters the building.
"So, please tell me that Admin planned this." One of the representatives groans; her gaze is more amused than annoyed.
"Wait," another voice interrupts, "This is brilliant, don't you realise, Sara? They've done most of our jobs for us?"
Sara contemplates for a second, pulling out her phone and scrolling through notes before her expression morphs into something akin to pure joy. "Oh my, you're right."
They don't give Liam the time of day to voice his concerns before he's whisked away, but he doesn't mind one bit because he's soon face-to-face with Arvid. His smile is dazzling as he greets the blonde, as if they didn't wake up together.
"Good day, laddies," Arvid chides, happiness radiating off him in rivets; it's contagious, as the media team seems to perk up more than usual.
Arvid scoots over closer to the middle of the sofa he's sitting on to make room for him, Liam choosing to sit directly next to him, pressing the two together, and despite the Barcelona heat, he's comfortable where he is.
"Guys," Sara sighs, "There's plenty of room on the couch."
The Brit is quick to roll his eyes, pressing closer to the blonde in an attempt to make a statement.
"So are we going to get onto filming?" Liam asks, leaning back against the coach. Admin looks at him suspiciously, the older man even lowering his iPad to get a closer look.
"What happened to you?" He asks, his left eyebrow high into his forehead while he looks between the two drivers, "You hate filming, why are you so chipper?"
Arvid answered this time around with a chuckle, "We appreciate the work you put in, come on, mate. You're burning daylight."
Admin looks all the more suspicious, his gaze now becoming concerned, "Hey, Rebecca, I think we have the wrong drivers; this cannot be Lawson and Lindblad."
"Oh, come on, Adam!" Liam groans mockingly, "We're willing to do whatever dumb idea you have, let's have at it."
Admin almost looks scared the entire time they're filming; the look in his eyes is enough to make both Liam and Arvid break character over the course of the afternoon, or maybe it's the overwhelming happiness that they've carried in their shoulders. At one point, 'good boy' slips through the British driver's tongue, and the social team almost faints when Liam laughs at the name instead of lashing out in his usual unnecessary tone.
The social team eventually acclimates to their mood, the filming ending with smiles plastered across not only the team but the entire VCARB staff, Alan even cracking jokes with the engineers at one point.
Liam observes the other teams' concerned glances into their building as they pass by, with their sister team, Oracle Red Bull Racing, looking the most baffled. If the Red Bull teams were known for the atmosphere, they could live it to the fullest.
Suddenly, before he is even aware of it, media day ends on one last clip.
"Well, the fans are having a blast about the shirt swap. How about we film one last clip for them?
Arvid chuckles in response, "Well, of course, mate. How'd you want us to come upon it?"
"Well, how about you two direct it this time? You two basically carried the filming on your shoulders already, and we absolutely love it." Adam chips in, "I'm worried I'll lose my job soon!"
"Nah, you know we'd never let that happen, bro," Liam responds, giving the older man a pat on the arm.
Of course, they lip-sync. Arvid suggests they do a play on the events of the morning, an idea Admin agrees to, despite the visible confusion on all their faces. Through the shoot, Arvid is almost always centimetres away from Liam, the two consistently brushing elbows, fingertips grazing skin before anyone can notice, and the near-permanent blush decorating the cheeks of Liam's face.
They ended the shoot in each other's arms, laughter filling the building like nobody was watching.
Liam just knew how much he loved Arvid, the Brit wearing the same smile that made him weak in the knees.
A grunt quickly separates them, Sara generously reminding them of the very public setting they were in. Liam has an overwhelming urge to kiss the blush along the British driver's cheeks, while Arvid's dark eyes allude to something more intimate.
A few quick consecutive buzzes echo through the room, Liam's phone flashes on the table beside the couch, and Arvid's does the same when the Brit pulls his phone out of his back pocket.
George R: It has been informed to me that some drivers have been having issues with the recent FIA ruling change after the Monaco GP.
The GPDA has agreed to a driver's dinner this evening to discuss these problems, with room for drivers to voice their concerns.
Carlos S: Xxxxx Xxxx xxx Xxxxx, # 08039 Barcelona, Spain
George R: Thank you, Carlos.
We will meet here no later than 20:00; every driver's presence would be appreciated; however, this is an optional event.
Alexander A: Ooh! Nice idea, you guys!
I'll be sure to be there.
Liam looks up at Arvid, the younger driver, who is now slightly irritated by the messages. They had both been briefed by the team on the Alpine appeal results and their positions during the race, and both were being increased to accommodate Pierre's new results. Many drivers were unhappy about the news, so it seems fair that the GPDA meet with them to discuss it.
It was very civil on George's side, with the older driver being affected by the faulty penalties more than any other driver who raced.
Max V: I'll be there for the food
Charles L: Me too
Lewis H: Happy with the results, I'll skip.
Pierre G: Since it was my appeal, I will be present
Franco C: I'll be there for my teammate
Oscar P: I have some concerns I'd want to voice
Lando N: I'm his emotional support!
Oscar P: Lan, this is the official chat.
Lando N: Oops! Sorry George…
- Kimi A: I won
Lol
I'll be there for the food tho
Gabriel B: I'll also be there for food
Oliver B: I DNF'ed, but I'll be there
Nico H: I'll pass.
Fernando A: Me too
Lance S: I DNF'ed so that I won't be there.
Sergio P: It's too late for me. Have fun.
Valteri B: Same.
Isack H: I have some problems with the ruling
And dinner sounds nice.
Estaban O: I'll skip this one.
That just left him, and Arvid left to respond.
"Well, it's free dinner." The Brit shrugs, flashing him a quick smirk while typing into his phone.
Arvid L: Liam and I will be there.
No concerns, just dinner.
"There!" Arvid says, storing his phone back into his back pocket, "Free dinner, I suppose."
Now that the day was complete, some of the VCARB staff had already been cleared to leave, and the building was becoming increasingly vacant as the minutes passed. Liam followed Arvid to their drivers' rooms, the two of them collecting stored bags and belongings.
"It's only 17:30, how about we drive back to the hotel together?" The younger driver suggests, "I know Kaleb took your car, I could drive"
The suggestion is small enough that Liam is quick to agree with a quick, "Yeah, that works," the blonde not questioning how Arvid had known, but following in his direction as they exit the building.
The paddock is a lot quieter than it was when he entered in the morning; the crowd had
dispersed, and the Barcelona evening sunlight coated everything it touches in a way that Liam only noticed when his brain had enough room to wander.
Arvid walks by his side, never going slower, yet slowing down when he realises that the blonde had trailed behind. He walks naturally toward the car park, his shoulders set and his eyes soft whenever they glance at each other.
The drive back is as uneventful as the drive there; the traffic wasn't bad for a city as populous as Barcelona, the beat of Arvid's rap playlist quietly truming in the background. Arvid keeps a hand on the blonde's lap the entire ride, and Liam takes it as an opportunity to hold it, his tan skin soft against pale fingertips.
They're separate for a moment while Liam returns to his room to drop off his belongings, jumping into the shower for a quick rinse. The restaurant Carlos picked was not too formal, and the Barcelona evening was warm enough to warrant a muscle top, which Liam finished off with a button-up he left unbuttoned.
Liam is still running a towel through his damp hair when the knock interrupts him, signalling that Arvid has finished getting ready quicker than he did.
"It's deadbolted!" He calls, hearing the soft brushing of the door against the carpet as Arivd pushes it open.
Arvid appears in the bathroom doorframe, a dark-collared shirt fashioned on him, his rings displayed, and dark curls sorted.
His eyes do a slow sweep of Liam, which the younger driver doesn't bother to disguise. With a small whistle, he chirps, "You look good."
Liam turns back to the mirror, the heat crawling up the back of his neck, "Don't start, you're breathtaking."
Arvid's reflection looks right at him, the younger driver leaning against the wall, his dark eyes soft-looking, like he's found peace. While Liam is busy styling his hair, the Brit pushes himself off the wall, and the blonde feels his presence before he can see his reflection pressing against him. Without asking, his fingers run along the collar of Liam's shirt, fixing the fabric where it once was folded in on itself, his fingers briefly scraping against bare skin.
"There," he softly says.
Liam's too flustered to look at him, immediately looking away when they lock eyes in the mirror.
Liam holds his gaze on the floor for a second longer before he checks his watch, "George said twenty hundred, yeah? We should go."
He turns around to face Arvid directly, the Brit reaching up to brush a loose curl, "After you."
---
The restaurant is flattering, but considering that Carlos planned the outing, Liam isn't surprised when they enter the terrace of a hotel building in central Barcelona. The evening skyline begins to fade to orange, and the outdoor dining table is already partially full, George Alex and Carlos at one end, with Max and Charles already in deep conversation. Across from them sit Lando and Oscar, the Australian driver immediately noticing their arrival.
"Welcome!" George calls, "Take a seat, you two are quite early, actually!"
Arvid pulls out his chair for him, Oscar sitting to his right while the British driver takes his left. The younger driver nudges the blonde's chair in for him, then takes a seat, scooting close enough for their knees to be touching.
The Australian takes note of their proximity, but he chooses not to say something about it; instead, his raised eyebrows say enough.
"Quite a media show you two put on today," Charles laughs, green eyes directed toward Arvid, "You stole my idea, but no worries, Max, we will show them up one of these days!"
The Dutchman rolls his eyes, but his gaze is affectionate when it lands on the Monégasques, "Charlie, I don't think the media would appreciate a Ferrari jersey on me, especially with all the rumours already."
The brunette groans, "Ah! You're no fun, everyone knows that Ferrari seats are full, good luck getting in."
Lando loudly chokes on his water, "Charles, you're acting like people want to join Ferrari."
"That's not really nice," Oscar chips in. Lando replies by nudging the Australian, a shrill groan paired with it.
"What?"
"Childhood rivals found with swapped jerseys," Liam chuckles, taking a sip of water before he continues, "F1 social channels would go wild with that one."
"Max!" Charles gasps, "I am more than a childhood rival to you, right? Mon chéri?"
Max is quick to reassure him, the Dutchman muttering quiet words in Dutch to the Ferrari driver, since he's joined the grid, Liam never could understand the relationship those two share; they're very close for rivals, and both adamantly deny that they're friends. They speak more to each other in their own languages, then speak together in English.
Lando scoffs, reaching over to take a slice of complementary bread from Oscar's plate, "Not in public, you two! And you say we're bad."
The Red Bull driver rolls his eyes in mock annoyance, "Not you two, just you, mate."
Oscar makes a sound that can be interpreted as a laugh, and Lando turns to him immediately, "Osc, you're supposed to be on my side." he turns toward Arvid, "Mate, you see what I have to deal with?"
The younger Brit grins, leaning back in his chair, "It sure sounds familiar."
"What does that mean?" Liam asks, "What's familiar?"
"Nothing!" The younger driver responds, his expression innocent, but the grin says otherwise. Oscar makes yet another sound beside him.
The arrival of the remaining drivers interrupts their bickering, and the younger drivers are audible within the hotel before they can make an appearance. Pierre and Franco entered first, the two Alpine drivers looking chipper despite the occasion. They're followed by the whirlwind that is Kimi, Oliver, Isack and Gabi barreling through the entrance, the five of them filling in the seats by Arvid. The table quickly fills up, the terrace swarming with servers and staff, the noise level rising as some drivers catch up while others order their food.
It all gives everyone a moment to settle before the dinner starts.
"Thank you all for coming to dinner," George greets once the waiter leaves and the glasses are filled, "I know it's been a long day for everyone, so we'll try to keep this brief!"
Pierre visibly shifts in his seat, his blue eyes stormy. Over the past few days, he's been vocal about his dissatisfaction; it's only fair that the other drivers can have an opportunity to do the same.
George begins by outlining the situation, Carlos chipping in every so often to explain the penalties each driver received while also pointing out the faulty FIA system. The British driver wraps up by discussing the appeal results that led them to the dinner, his tone calm throughout. Liam finds himself respecting the older driver more; he's genuinely impressed at how George handles himself and the weight of it all, keeping the temperature in the room stable despite all sorts of complaints, some of them being his own.
"Look, I know that a lot of the backlash is because of the fans."
"I mean, yeah," Pierre shrugs, "Everything about this sport is built on fan enjoyment and sponsors."
"Which is why not only the GPDA, but all of the teams have to be careful about how we respond publicly," George replies smoothly, "It's not about how the ruling goes, but about how the sport is perceived, which ultimately affects us drivers, the face of it all."
Oscar sighs, "That's always been the root of the problem; it's always based on perceptions when nobody bothers to think internally."
The table collectively nods its head, Liam turning with them. He takes a sip of water to soothe some of his nerves, the glass shaking slightly in his hands.
Arvid notices it, and as soon as Liam sets the glass back onto the table, the younger driver already has their hands interlinked, and he gives the blonde a look, leaning to kiss the back of his neck.
Max decides to speak up next, "Look, it's obvious that some of us have more leeway than others. I can say anything, criticise everything, and I'll still have a seat."
"Some of us aren't that lucky." Alex brings up, "The rookies are most at risk."
The younger end of the table immediately makes a rise in volume to agree, and Liam
feels it deep in the pit of his stomach. After a second, a gentle squeeze of his hand brings the blonde out of his head, the conversation continuing in the background.
"We all know that everything is content now," Arvid speaks up for the first time in a while, "That's why the social channels keep pushing at the trends."
That brings a laugh out of the table, the irony of the Racing Bulls driver pointing out the obvious. George continues, "On that note, it can only be fair to say that while we should be conscious about our presence online, we are still humans. Despite it all, there are 22 of us in this sport; we need to stick together."
Collectively, the table agrees to the statement, the conversation beginning to roll past the events of the previous week and into more mundane topics. Their food arrives at the perfect time, and the rest of the dinner passes in tranquillity.
Carlos has outdone himself with the location, the setting sun casting the table with gold. The atmosphere shifts from a formal meeting to something akin to friends meeting for dinner and good times.
At one point, Arvid is quick to shield him from a growing food fight between Lando and Pierre, who are acting more like children than grown adults.
Arvid's hair is caked with tomato sauce as a result; Liam repays him by brushing it out of the thick curls, trying to be as tender as possible.
"Max, you don't do that for me!" Charles complains from across the table, the Monégasques' tone sarcastic, but there's something softer in his eyes when he smiles at the blonde.
Arvid's thumb brushes away the sauce that's left on the corner of Liam's lip, "Thank you," he says between them, the chaos becoming background noise.
Just like that, dinner ends, with Pierre picking up the cheque as a quiet apology for the inconvenience. Max sets down a generous tip for the mess they've made, and the drivers absorb the quiet city's atmosphere before the burden of race weekend the next day.
The Barcelona night does something to all the city lights, and the warm June air makes the start of summer all the more apparent. Liam finds himself zoning out on it, interrupted only when a familiar hand finds his waist.
"Ready?"
Liam nods, thanking Pierre for the dinner and George for organising it, and he leaves the terrace with Arvid's hand firm on his back. Outside, the group thins quickly, and the hotel valet is swift in receiving their cars and sending them along their way.
Liam finds himself beside Max, while Arvid is grouped with Gabi and Carlos, not too far away.
"Good dinner," the Dutchman greets him with a smile.
"Yeah," Liam agrees with a chuckle.
A beat passes while Max scans the interior of the hotel, his eyes landing on Charles before filtering out between Arvid and the Kiwi. "Get some sleep before practice tomorrow, it's going to be a hot one."
"You too, Max, thanks."
Max gives him one last pat on the shoulder before Charles appears by his side, the two of them entering a BMW together, steering off toward the road.
Liam watches them go.
Soon, Arvid presses against him, the two of them standing beside each other wordlessly. Liam leans into the younger driver, their colognes mixing while they wait for the car.
"You're quiet." The Brit says, Liam resting his head on his clean shoulder.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
Liam looks out at the city street. He considers his options, trying to organise his thoughts into words. The entire day, the fleeting touches, the normalcy of it all. For once, he's satisfied when he can't find the worlds.
"Nothing important."
Arvid looks at him, not fully satisfied, but he lets it go; their car finally arrives.
They go for Liam's room this time around, the exhaustion deep enough to decide for them. Arvid falls asleep with his arm wrapped around Liam, his breathing slow and even. In the dark, with his curls against the bedsheets and his face still and peaceful, he looks younger than he is; he looks like everything Liam could ever want, everything he's finally letting himself have.
He hopes he can be what Arvid deserves; he hopes to always be in the younger's life, wherever it may go. The anxiety is still there, but tonight it's muted by something peaceful, something more intimate.
Tomorrow is free practice, filled with so many unknowns.
But Liam knows what tonight is, filled with soft breathing, warm skin and Barcelona amber, which is more than enough for him.