Chapter Text
Despite Oscar's best arguments on why he shouldn't stay the night at Charles’, he was sadly forced to.
The three of them had drunk a lot yesterday. Oscar was scared to see what bullshit they had done. Alex didn't stay over because George picked him up. To say George looked disappointed would be an understatement. As Oscar woke up, he suddenly got hit with the memories of last night. His headache was ungodly. He groaned as he tried fishing his phone from the bed. At least Charles was sober enough to lead Oscar to his guest bedroom rather than let him sleep on the sofa. George was surprised to see Charles being the most sober out of the three and Oscar being the most drunk. You could technically consider this as a win celebration.
The Aussie finally found his phone and unlocked it. It barely held on, with only 8% of the battery left. He started scrolling through his notifications: nothing too bad so far, just some congratulations from the grid or team. The only difference was George's message.
George 63
Text me when you’re awake. I left some Aspirin on the kitchen table. Pray so Charles doesn't get to it first and swallow it all.
Oscar smiles at the gesture. He laughs a bit at the comment about Charles but immediately regrets it.
“Fuck this headache,” Oscar turned over so his face was in the pillow, and he quietly groaned into it. He sighs, plugging his phone in after sending a quick message to let George know he didn't die in his sleep. He got up and shuffled his way to the kitchen. He finds the Aspirin on the kitchen aisle and a glass of water. Oscar took some and swallowed them without the water. Maniac, Oscar cringed at himself for doing that, too, but actions cannot be judged in desperate times.
He wobbled to the living room and plopped down on the first sofa he could find. Falling face-first into the cushions. He tried recalling what they did last night. The last thing he remembered was Lando messaging Charles. After that, Alex pulled Oscar to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of vodka.
“You'll need it,” is the last thing Oscar remembers Alex saying. Did they even reply to Lando? Hopefully, they didn't do anything too scandalous. As he tries to recall more, he hears a door open. He rolls over and sees a tired and disheveled Charles totter over to the kitchen. To his surprise, Charles took all the Aspirin pills George had put out and chugged them down with water from the kitchen aisle.
“Didn't expect George to be right about Charles swallowing them all,” he scoffed and rolled back on his back. He could hear shuffling in the living room. Suddenly, he felt a weight on his legs. Lazily, he lifted his head to see Charles sitting on his legs. “Mate, what are you doing?”
“Oh,” was all Charles could mutter out. He didn't even bother moving, and honestly, Oscar could give less of a fuck. The both of them stayed in comfortable silence until Charles spoke up. “We were black-out drunk last night,” Oscar lifted his head again, his nose scrunched up, trying to think why Charles was bringing this up.
“Clearly, we had too much to drink, seeing how much Aspirin you chugged down,” Charles looked down at him and giggled softly. Now that Oscar thinks about it, he has never seen Charles like this. So soft and vulnerable.
“That's beside the point.” Charles rolled his eyes, “I woke up to a message from Max.”
“That sounds concerning.”
“He said, and I quote, ‘Please never get drunk with Alex and Oscar ever again; I don't ever wanna see those pictures ever again.’ And I was so confused for a moment until I opened our chat and saw a picture of Alex shirtless for some reason and you in the middle of taking yours off.” Oscar felt himself go red in the face. How fucking drunk were they yesterday? Now, he's scared to open his chats with anyone. “I truly wonder what else we did last night.”
“I'll probably have to ask George if he stayed long enough or maybe got info from Alex's phone,” Oscar shrugged. He tried wiggling Charles off his legs. “Charles,” he groaned, elongating the ‘s.’ “I need to check my phone in case I did something embarrassing.” Charles groaned but got up. Oscar barely had time to gather his legs before Charles fell back onto the couch.
He suddenly felt anxious when he entered the room and picked up his phone. What if he did text Lando something?
Charles perked up, hearing Oscar coming back into the living room. “So, did you text anyone?”
Oscar plopped down on the couch and sighed, handing his phone to Charles. “I couldn't bring myself to check anything.” Charles snorted but took his phone anyway. Opening up the phone, Charles scrolled for a bit, opening up a few apps before he suddenly froze up. Oscar peeked and saw he was on Instagram. The phone got angled so the Aussie could see what was on it more clearly. They had posted a story yesterday. It would've been fine if it had been posted on Oscar's private account, but this was on his public account.
The story contained a video where Alex and Oscar were standing together, tipping back two alcohol bottles and then almost falling over on each other. It was cut off by George going into the frame and Charles giggling. It ended and automatically went to the other one they had posted. This time, the story is similar to the picture Max got from Charles. Alex still had his shirt off and his tongue out, throwing whatever signs with his hands; however, Oscar had given up on taking his shirt off and had bit a small piece from the front, showing off his chest and stomach, showing peace signs.
Oscar felt something bubbling in his stomach—shame, maybe disappointment—but it wasn't a good feeling. The internet was going wild over his two stories.
‘Why isn't Lando there too?’
‘I don't think the PR team supported these stories.’
‘McLaren team are probably scrambling as we speak, lol’
‘I've never seen Oscar this drunk before.’
‘Guys, why aren't we talking about how RIPPED Alex and Oscar are?? I knew they worked out, but DAMN?’
“Looks like the fans enjoyed the second story,” Charles chuckled as he scrolled through Twitter. Oscar was long gone. He was on the floor, rolling around with hands covering his face.
“What the hell was wrong with me last night,” he groaned as he kept rolling around.
“At least you didn't text Lando?” the Aussie froze at the mention of his teammate. Charles was right, he didn't. What would Lando even be thinking? He must've seen those stories.
“I should probably text him, saying I’m alive or whatever,”
“He had already texted you.” Oscar froze up in the middle of getting up from the floor.
“What?”
“Yeah… He texted asking how you felt after your first win, and you left him on read.”
He felt the world crash down. How could he have been so stupid? He could cut himself some slack, seeing how he was black-out drunk, but it was still unforgivable. Oscar quickly got up and snatched his phone.
Oscar
hey, sorry Alex got me a bit distracted yesterday,
yeah, i'm good
i can't feel bad when i just won my maiden race, yk?
sorry for not responding again
Oscar threw his phone somewhere and just started banging his head against the couch. Charles was filming him doing that until Oscar’s phone vibrated. The Monegasque stopped filming and gave the phone to the Aussie. The fear in his eyes could be noticed even by a blind person. He unlocked the phone and saw the message.
Lando
Good to see u didnt die mate
Yeah, i saw, 2 bottles of vodka is crazy
Where did charles even get allat?
“I’m gonna kill myself, Charles,” he cried into his hands. “Why is he acting so horribly nonchalantly?” Oscar peeked through his hands to see the Monegasque holding back a laugh. He punched him hard in the thigh.
“I told you he doesn’t break friendships over petty things,” Charles said as he doubled over from the pain.
“Mate, I didn’t even hit you that hard,” Oscar rolled his eyes and got up from the floor. He unlocked his phone to see the messages again. ‘What have I got myself into? No, what has the team gotten me into?’
Oscar
Lol ik it’s wild
I don’t even know how Alex knew where Charles kept the bottles
“Okay, yeah, let’s say he doesn’t break friendships over this. Sure, I wouldn’t either. But why is he acting like it didn’t happen at all?” This time, Charles took a bit longer to answer.
“It’s because he avoids any confrontation. That’s how he, unfortunately, ‘solves’ his problems. He will never bring it up in hopes you will forget, and he can live down the guilt more easily. If you want him actually to talk about it, you’ll have to start it. That’s if he continues and doesn’t dodge the questions or topic.”
Once the Aussie heard that, he stood and walked to the kitchen.
“Mate, don’t do that.” Charles followed along and stopped Oscar from taking a few more bottles from where Alex had taken them yesterday.
“But Danny Ric told me to drink my sorrows away; even Bottas agreed!”
“Are you gonna listen to the Australian and Finnish guy? Might as well add Checo to the list.”
“Well- actually!”
“No.”
___
Oscar decided he would stay at Charles for a few more days. ‘It’s ‘cause I can’t drive while hungover!’ but both knew it was because he needed the company. Seeing how Max decided to visit Charles today, he immediately regretted this decision.
“Oh, hello, Oscar. Didn’t expect to see you still here.” Max extended his hand to Oscar. The Aussie took it lazily and nodded in response.
“He’ll be here for a while if you don’t mind. I think Alex and George said something about visiting?” Charles said in the background.
“Ah, the PR team's nightmare quatro is getting together, huh?” Max laughed, and Oscar snorted. It's ironic; he used to be every PR team's dream, but now look at him- being their nightmare. It’s a surprise the stories still haven’t been taken down.
The three of them talk over tea. Max asks how Oscar feels after his first win, insults McLaren, offers a seat in Red Bull, and starts planning a murder of the FIA. Honestly, Oscar feels way better after talking to Max. He doesn’t understand why everyone is so against Max. He is one of the nicest guys he has met. He can get sarcastic, but it is not meant to offend anyone. It’s the same way Oscar can sometimes get briefly sarcastic but nothing offensive.
Their murder plans get paused as Alex barges into the apartment, George trailing him behind.
“The PR team’s nightmare quatro assemble!” Alex placed a bottle on the coffee table. " Oh, and Max, too.” Max giggled in response.
“The bottle has no alcohol- I cannot let another repeat of Sunday happen!” George chipped.
“Yeah, yeah, we get it party pooper. I’m sure Charles has more at home!” Alex rolled his eyes and started going to the kitchen until George grabbed his wrist and sat him down next to Oscar.
“Not today, mate,” Alex whined but obeyed regardless. Max and Oscar briefly exchanged looks before bursting out in laughter. Soon enough, Charles also joined them.
This is going to be one hell of a break.
___
After a few shots (against George’s wishes), Max also learned about Oscar's struggles. Did the Aussie ever think so many people were going to know? No. Did he care anymore? Also, no. The only people who drank were Alex and Charles. No one had an idea of why they were drinking, but they did lift the mood.
“McLaren are gambling on their drivers now,” George said as Alex and Charles started dancing. Max was filming but still listened in.
“Yup,” Oscar poured himself a glass of juice.
“If you’re going to confront Lando about how he feels, you will probably need to do it soon before he concludes you hate him. " At the mention of Lando, Max turned his full attention to George and Oscar rather than the two drunk ones.
“I’m pretty sure his mental health has taken a toll on him ever since he’s, apparently, fighting with me for the championship. Honestly mate? No one should’ve put that pressure on him. I don’t wanna sound cocky, but I’m pretty sure I have the title already handed to me.”
Well, that doesn’t help Oscar, but Max is right.
“Someone needs to knock some sense into Lando,” George starts up again, he turns to Oscar, “and that someone is gonna be you, Oscar.”
Suddenly, Oscar was really regretting not getting drunk like Alex and Charles.