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No buzz, no crowds moving around, no screaming fans with friendship bracelets. No photographers trying to take pictures or reporters trying to stop him. No, the paddock is eerily quiet—not a single soul is walking around. Not even a sound bounces off the motorhomes.
Now, you would think that this would be Oscar's dream: a quiet day at work without anybody watching him and commenting that he has the personality of a paper bag or that he's in love with his teammate. Just a day to focus on racing.
But after the chaos of today and the eerie vibe around the paddock, Oscar would disagree—especially considering how tight his skin feels and how much he's sweating.Which is multiplied by the fact that he's missing a certain smell—yes, a smell—and each time he thinks about that person and that smell, he whimpers. Who whimpers? And although you may not see it on his face, he is panicking.
Although, positively speaking, he is handling it better than most people would in this situation. Not that he doesn’t want to join in with the craziness—because Lando seems crazy productive with the way he’s positioning all the pillows and blankets into a makeshift nest, and Oscar would love to join him.
Surprisingly, it’s Max who seems to be taking today’s events the worst. He’s curled up on the ground, whimpering and calling out for Charles. Oscar would help him if he could get up, if he had more control, and if he wouldn’t immediately walk to Carlos Sainz—the worst person alive—if he had the chance.
So right now, Oscar is lying on the couch, praying that today was just a dream and wishing he could smell that heavenly scent again. Because today has to be a dream. How else would you explain that during the drivers' parade, certain drivers got dizzy while others stormed at them? Oscar's got to admit, it was the happiest moment of his life to be cradled in Carlos's arms, surrounded by his scent.
Not that he would ever say that aloud. Oscar would rather lose the championship than go to him. Wait—did that thought just make him whimper? Yes, it definitely did. Even Max is looking at him weirdly.
Or maybe Max isn't looking at him but at the door behind him, where a woman stands, glancing around nervously. Smelling nervous—does that have a smell? Oscar wonders. Apparently, it does. And she looks like it does.
Max's patience snaps.
"What? Where’s Charles?"
Oscar is very relieved he doesn’t have Charles hidden somewhere. Although, maybe the nervous woman knows where Carlos is.
"Hi, so the FIA has sent me to update you on the situation," the nervous woman starts, only to be interrupted by a very cozy-looking Lando, who snaps, "Shorter."
"So, the feeling you’re experiencing—the tight skin—"
The nervous woman suddenly stops, blinking as if confused, and then continues as if she’s reading his mind.
"—is..."
"Well, what?" Oscar snaps, his patience officially gone. No more Mister Polite. He just wants Carlos.
Here’s a revised version for clarity, grammar, and flow:
"Well, it seems that people’s second gender has been activated, and the best way to remedy the situation is by going to the person you feel safe with."
"Carlos," Oscar purrs happily.
"Wait, second gender?" Oscar questions, a hint of confusion creeping into his voice.
Just as he asks it, Lando whimpers and buries himself further in the pillows.
"Like Alpha, Beta, Omega?" Lando questions.
"Oh no, we’ve stumbled into one of Lando's weird fanfiction books," Oscar groans.
Just as Oscar is about to complain, Max stands up.
"We can go!" he shouts, then bolts out the door, screaming for Charles.
Oscar can go to Carlos. He can go to Carlos. He won’t go to Carlos; he will go to Carlos.
“¡Cabrón!” Carlos purrs, standing in the doorway. He doesn’t have to go to Carlos.
Oscar whimpers, inviting. Can he really whimper invitingly? Apparently, he can, as he stumbles to the pillows and arranges them into a nest. He whimpers again, looking at Carlos until he purrs back and joins him in the nest.
Finally, Oscar relaxes and falls asleep, surrounded by Carlos's scent, feeling truly protected.