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Oscar hadn’t expected the cooldown room to be as awkward as it was. Whenever other drivers had their first win, it had been full of congratulations and excited (yet still exhausted) chatter as the race highlights were played for them. When Oscar walked in after his own first win, it was almost silent. Tension lay thick in the air, with Lando looking downright miserable and Lewis watching him almost carefully. His heart sunk a little watching it.
Of course, he knew Lando wouldn’t go down without a fight. From what little he’d heard from his team, he knew there’d been some arguing over the radios, and sure, he was a little frustrated that Lando hadn’t swapped with him, but he understood where the other driver was coming from – he was fighting for the World Driver’s Championship, after all.
He just hadn’t expected things to seem so… hostile.
So, when the time came for the team debrief, Oscar chose to sit on the edge of the room, away from most of the team and alone since Mark wasn't there. He’d decided to give Lando some space, to let him overcome whatever resentment he was clearly feeling, and allow Lando to come to him.
Lando kept looking over at him.
That was the only thing Oscar remembered from the debrief. He was pretty sure he’d disassociated throughout most of it, though he did vaguely recall hearing Lando getting reprimanded heavily for his actions. He didn’t stick around to talk to anyone after, either, instead flying out of the door and hiding away in his driver’s room until he could leave.
He opened his phone, hoping to see a text from Lando, but saw nothing. His thoughts were proven right: Lando must be mad at him because the team made them switch. Oscar could see the frustration and upset in his teammates eyes, in his body language, in his strained smile.
He didn’t talk to anyone on his way home, aside from thanking the team (not the strategists, though), instead preferring to silently stew in whatever mixed feelings he was having over the race. Not that anyone really tried to talk to him outside of congratulating him on the race. In fact, without counting his family, Lily, and Mark, only two people attempted to reach him, the two being Zak, who he gladly ghosted under the pretense of sleeping until he was basically spam called, and none other than Charles Leclerc, who invited him out to celebrate his maiden win. He wasn’t all too surprised that Charles had texted him, not like how he would have been last year, as they’d built a solid friendship up. Charles had even gone out of his way to congratulate Oscar after the race.
Charles Leclerc
Are you coming out to celebrate?
Oscar Piastri
Not sure I really feel like it
Charles Leclerc
It’s your maiden win, you have to come
Look, I know how you feel. You don’t have to talk to anyone aside from us if you don’t want to
Oscar Piastri
Us?
Charles Leclerc
Me, Carlos, Lewis, Danny Ric
Maybe Logan and Alex
Lando’s not coming
Oscar contemplated for a moment. He had no family to celebrate with, Lily wasn’t there, and neither was Mark. He was actively avoiding Lando (who had commented on his Instagram post but hadn’t messaged him), but Lando wasn’t going.
He didn’t really have anything better to do.
So he found himself, two hours later, in a bar with the drivers Charles had listed plus Max (who apparently didn’t need more than 6 hours of sleep over two days) and Pierre, who was brooding and nursing a drink Oscar couldn’t pronounce.
“Oscar!” Charles had drunkenly shouted as he approached the group.
They turned around, and he was greeted with a far better reception than he received at the race track.
He was laughing and smiling in no time, downing shot after shot of whatever drink the others insisted on buying for him. Hell, even Carlos bought him a drink. He was actually having fun, celebrating his win. Sure, he was out of his comfort zone at first, but once he really got into it he began enjoying himself. These drivers, most of whom he wasn’t usually close to, were celebrating better with him than even his team had.
Or at least, they were, until Lando showed up.
He was completely sober when Oscar first saw him, but the second time he was practically falling on top of Carlos. Oscar sobered up almost immediately upon seeing him, anxious that something would happen. Logan, stood next to him, sensed his change in mood and dragged him off for another drink, but he wasn’t in the mood anymore.
“Oscar, come on. Don’t let him ruin your night,” Logan had said, insisting on getting the two of them another drink.
“Sorry, Loges. I just can’t… with the way things happened today, I don’t think he wants to see me. I think I’m just gonna head home,” Oscar replied, his mood officially soured.
“Well, I’m not letting you spend the night alone after your first win. I’ll come with you. Let me just go tell the others.”
Oscar watched as Logan walked back over to the group, explaining that they were heading back. He had no idea what excuse his friend came up with, but a couple of people nodded and Alex made eye contact with him and gave him a sympathetic nod. Lando, on the other hand, was staring once again. Even when Logan grabbed Oscar by the wrist and led them out of the bar, he stared. Oscar looked back discreetly as they reached the door, but Lando was still staring. He took a deep breath and just walked out.
When they reached the hotel, Oscar was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to wallow in his feelings, but Logan was seemingly determined to not let that happen.
“So,” Logan started, “why’d you wanna come back?”
Oscar sighed. “I think Lando’s mad at me. I mean, the team made him drop to p2 because of me, and he could have just lost the championship. All because of me.”
Logan looked confused, putting his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, “Why would he be mad at you? It was the team’s decision, not yours.”
“They prioritised me above him. He’s the one with a shot at the championship, not me. Or rather, he was the one with a shot.”
Logan gave Oscar a look, and Oscar sighed.
“I know,” he said, “I’m just giving him space.”
It turned out that space was not what Lando needed.
At least, that’s what Oscar assumed when he woke up to his teammate banging on the door of his hotel room at 4am.
He opened the door to see a very disgruntled looking lando. His white shirt was half unbuttoned, with one shoulder halfway down his arm, his hair was tousled, he was sweaty and panting and, worst of all, it looked like he’d been crying.
“Osc,” he breathed. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, just like it always did whenever Lando called him that.
“Hi,” he replied.
They stood in the doorway awkwardly for a while, Oscar not wanting to let Lando in on the off chance that he was there to yell at him, and Lando not wanting to intrude by barging in.
Lando cleared his throat, and Oscar jumped.
“Uh, come in?” he asked.
Lando gave him a tight-lipped smile, stepping inside the room.
Of course, it was spotless. Oscar hadn’t been in it long enough to mess it up before tonight, and he’d spent the three hours since Logan had left switching between crying and brooding.
Lando looked around, before reaching for the lightswitch.
He frowned, looking at Oscar’s face. “You’ve been crying?”
“Uh,” Oscar replied, wiping his cheeks and clearing his throat, “yeah, yeah I have.”
“That’s no way to spend the night of your first win.”
They stood, avoiding eye contact with each other, before Lando broke the silence.
“Why have you been avoiding me?”
“What?”
“You’ve barely even looked at me since we got out of the press conference. Why?”
Oscar sighed for what seemed the millionth time that night.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” he mumbled.
“What?” Lando said.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” he repeated, a little louder.
“I heard you the first time, I just- why would you think that?”
Oscar swallowed, looking up at Lando from where he was sat on his bed. Lando was looking at him with so much concern in his eyes that the dam broke, and Oscar spilled every thought he’d had since the race ended.
“I cost you your win, possibly the championship, created rifts within the team. I basically ruined your entire race, and your mood after you got pole in quali yesterday. And I know you’re pissed at me and I’m so sorry, Lan, I am. This could have been your second win this year, and you could have almost caught up to Max in points. I get that they were prioritising me but you were after the win, and it kinda pissed me off – the whole swap thing – and-“
“Osc,” Lando said gently, putting his hand on top of Oscar’s, “is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time?”
Oscar just looked at Lando.
“This was your maiden win. You should have been celebrating. I’m sorry,” his teammate sat next to him and pulled him into a hug.
Oscar rested his head on Lando’s shoulder, feeling better than he had even when he’d gone out with the other drivers.
“I’m not pissed at you, I’m pissed at the team. At the strategists for fucking it all up for us, at Will for the things he said and embarrassing me on live TV, at-“
“Wait, what? What did Will say?” Oscar sat up immediately, holding Lando at arm’s length.
Lando scoffed. “He guilt tripped me to get me to slow. Told me I needed the team and you, and that shit would be awkward if I didn’t slow. In front of everyone. Apparently even Crofty was uncomfortable.”
Oscar furrowed his brows. “What the fuck. What the fuck? Lando, that’s not okay. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he shrugged, “we talked about it after the debrief – after you ran off. He apologised.”
“Oh.”
Lando manoeuvred them to be laid down, staring deep into Oscar’s eyes.
“What else is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Osc.”
Osc.
Oscar was always weak whenever Lando called him Osc.
“People weren’t as excited about my win as they were for literally any other driver’s. I feel like it just… wasn’t a big deal.”
Lando furrowed his brow again, his eyes creasing slightly.
“I noticed that. Fucking dickheads.” He rolled over, placing his hand on Oscar’s cheek. “You deserved this more than anyone. Yeah, I was mad about the championship, but you’ve given up so much for me. I figured I needed to give back. The win was yours, Osc, whether you believe it was or not.”
Lando wiped a tear from Oscar’s eye, one that he hadn’t even noticed.
“I wouldn’t have been mad if you took the win, you know,” he settled on saying.
Lando laughed, “Don’t lie. Yes you would.”
Oscar breathed through his nose. “Maybe, but I can’t stay mad at you.”
“I know,” Lando smiled, leaning in to kiss Oscar on the nose.
Oscar felt himself blush immediately at the action, and Lando laughed again.
“Shut up,” Oscar said.
“Make me,” Lando replied.
Oscar took a breath. It was cliché, he knew, but he leaned forward and kissed Lando.
His teammate’s lips were softer than he’d imagined (not that he’d been imagining it – that’s not how you’re supposed to think about your teammate).
“Wow,” Lando said when they broke apart, “wasn’t expecting that.”
Oscar panicked immediately, which must have shown on his face because Lando immediately went on to say, “I liked it, though. I really liked it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. We should do it again some time. Maybe when you win your next race.”
“When? Not if?”
Lando looked down his nose at the Australian. “I told you, there’s more of these coming, Osc.”
“Osc.”
Lando just laughed again.