#roysflowers

"This is an emergency," Jenson said as he ran up to Nico, eyes wild and hair even wilder. "You gotta help me."

"Sure, what is it?"

"I've nearly run out of cake. I can't compete in my home race without any cake!" Ah yes, Jenson's one true love: cake. A title Nico would never be able to even compete for.

"You look like that and you haven't run out? You've just nearly run out?" Nico was scared of the Jenson that would emerge were he to truly run out of cake. "OK, I believe there's a Waitrose nearby."

"Waitrose? No way, we are going to Lidl. More cake per pound."

Did Jenson not know Nico at all by now? He would not be caught dead stepping foot in Lidl. "Jenson, you are a Formula 1 driver. You can afford Waitrose but if not then Marks and Spencer is acceptable too."

"What about Aldi?" Jenson countered. Nico was going to have to break up with him at this rate.

"Final offer: Asda. And that is a one-time only deal. Never again."

"I'll take it," Jenson decided. "As long as I can drive."

It wasn't long before Nico and Jenson arrived at the nearby Asda, Jenson immediately leading Nico towards the cake aisle.

"Do you have every cake aisle location in Britain memorised?" Nico asked in disbelief. Jenson didn't answer.

The lights were too fluorescent, the people far too likely to recognise them and, worst of all, the food was definitely of a low quality. Nico examined some of the fresh vegetables on the way, and felt pure disgust that they were able to be sold.

"Here it is," Jenson announced cheerfully, eyeing the collection of cakes in front of them. Nico wished Jenson would give him even half the attention he gave cake. Although, he did have to admit there was a wide variety, from traditional cakes to fun cakes decorated for children's parties, lions and princesses and spiderman.

Jenson didn't take long to start piling cakes on top of Nico's outstretched arms, only stopping when it became heavier than both their regular gym weights. "My god, Jenson, how many people are you planning on hosting?"

Oscar was kissing Mark Webber when he noticed the fly on the wall at McLaren. It wasn't a particularly remarkable fly, slightly larger than average but in general just very fly-like, black body against the white of the walls. It wasn't doing much either, sat on the wall or however flies stayed on walls. Oscar had never really questioned whether flies could sit before, and maybe it was a bad sign that this was where his mind was going as he kissed his manager in a meeting room at the MTC, blinds drawn and door locked. Mark made the motion of lifting Oscar onto the long, central table, and Oscar spent most of his effort pretending like he wasn't the one jumping up onto it.

Concentrating on that meant that he lost track of the fly; the small insect had flown off somewhere and there wasn't exactly a lack of places to hide, from behind the massive projector screen and computer directly next to it to multiple cabinets dotted around, showcasing McLaren's various achievements over the years which weren't quite good enough to be placed by the entrance. The fly could even be directly underneath the table where Oscar was perched for all he knew. The only thing Oscar was semi-confident about was that the fly was likely still in the room as all the windows were closed so the only escape would be crawling under the door.

Mark transferred his attention to Oscar's neck, and Oscar involuntarily tilted his head back, eyes catching the projector above him and that allowed him to solve the case of the missing fly. It was buzzing above him, flying directly into the power button, and if Oscar was a fly up there too he could imagine the fly saying "Ouch," as it repeatedly slammed against the plastic. It seemed a fairly intelligent fly, Oscar had to admit, stopping immediately when the red light switched to green, and flying, although a little dazed, towards the computer screen.

Mark reached Oscar's ear, pausing only to whisper, "I love you," and then he was helping Oscar to take off his McLaren shirt, tossing it out of sight and, yeah, the papaya colour even now did kill the vibe a bit.

Oscar adjusted Mark's position until he had a decent view of the screen, curious what was going to appear now that the fly had turned it on. He wasn't sure what he'd expected but it certainly wasn't that. The screen was slow to load, horizontal strips loading one at a time, starting with dark blue and a singular white 't' in the centre of it. Oscar had been a teenager in the 2010s—he knew what the tumblr logo looked like—but it was a shock to see it here all the same, and he gasped a little. He hardly even noticed Mark assuming his gasp was because he'd moved onto giving him a blowjob. The screen continued to load and it looked like a post was in the process of being written, a few words on the screen 'does your fly know the w' and it was close to a minute before the next letter 'a' was added. Oscar took in the rest of the screen, account name @flyonthewallatmclaren, multiple posts in the background, mostly calling various McLaren employees gay. It wasn't like it was wrong, especially when he noticed Lando was the subject of some of the posts.

Mark followed Jense along the aisle in Lidl, carrying the shopping basket that was already far too heavy considering they'd only stopped for "just a couple things, Mark. I gotta have a snack before the concert tonight unless you want me to pass out on stage."

Mark had tried his best to ignore the subsequent mental images of Jense doing exactly that, his own heroic rush to catch her and getting to carry her bridal-style off stage, lie next to her while she recovered. He definitely didn't consider that perhaps true love's kiss would heal her enough for her to go out on stage just in time for the final song, that would be stupid.

"What d'ya need 6 pints of milk for, Jense?"

"Seb mentioned we'd run out the other day and you know how much he likes to drink milk," Jense replied before standing in front of the cheese selection, humming in concentration. The tune sounded eerily similar to 'Multi 21' but Mark took a deep breath in and out because Seb had earned his forgiveness and he would simply have to prove that he was a better boyfriend than Seb could ever be. Not that he was Jense's boyfriend or anything, just that, if she wanted him to be, he would be better at it than Seb.

"Anything you want?" Mark asked. The basket really was so very heavy and he just knew that if he were to put it on the ground for a second to rest that would be Jense's cue to skip off round the corner of Lidl and disappear from his sight.

"I want...I want...I want cake," Jense decided, grabbing Mark's hand and leading them towards the variety of cakes and didn't that just make Mark's heart skip a beat. They were literally having regular sex and yet this was the moment he treasured the most, being dragged around Lidl, with what was probably a stupidly wide smile on his face, and all because he got to hold hands with Jense.

"Victoria sponge, carrot cake," Jense sang as she somehow miraculously found space in the basket to pile the different cakes in. "2 caked up but ready for some more cake. You wanna choose one, Mark?"

"Can't go wrong with a good chocolate cake, I suppose," Mark conceded. There was no point in arguing with Jense over cake.

"Aaaand a lemon cake for good luck tonight." Jense flashed Mark a smile and he was so incredibly ready to drop to one knee to propose. No, he sternly told himself, he was not about to propose to anyone, he was allowed to kneel for sexual reasons only. "You reckon that's enough, mate?" Jense's question interrupted.

"Yeah, all good." There was quite a bit more than enough there.

He switched the basket to his other hand and tried not to think about how he needed the use of his arms for drumming. Jense was worth it.

The shop was mostly empty so it didn't take long to get through the checkout, Jense fluttering her eyelashes when the total appeared.

"You've got this, right, Mark?"