Work Text:
“Hey mate,” Lando called for Oscar’s attention as the two lounged in Oscar’s driver’s room. “Did you see they had an ice rink in the paddock?”
Oscar narrowed his eyes, “Lando. No. It’s in our contracts, we could get injured. And then our team will get mad.”
Lando put down his phone turn to the Australian, “Please, Osc? No one will know. And you can hold onto me, I won’t let you get hurt!”
Oscar laughed, “Do you even know how to skate, Lando? I reckon I’ll be the one holding you up.”
Lando pouted, “Of course, I know how to skate.” Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Maybe. No. But it’ll be fine!”
“Are you sure about that?” Oscar turned back to his phone, not wanting to get engaged into Lando’s silly ideas.
Lando smirked, “There’s only one way to find out.”
With a sigh, Oscar decided that maybe, he did want to get engaged in Lando’s silly ideas.
—
He found himself in the chilly arena with one Lando Norris clinging to his arm for dear life.
“Oscaaar!” Lando shrieked as he slipped again, nearly pulling Oscar down with him.
With a sigh, Oscar grabbed the gaudily decorated skate aid that had been handed to them by a starstruck underpaid attendant at the hire desk. Lando had insisted he wouldn’t need it but Oscar begged to differ. The Brit was slipping and sliding on the spot, clearly in need of something to hold onto that preferably was also not Oscar. “Here. Hold onto this.”
Lando shook his head, “No. I don’t need it.” He then immediately contradicted himself as he lost balance once again and landed on the ice with a soft oof . ‘Whose stupid idea was it to go skating again?” He whined from his position on the ice.
“Yours, Lando.” Oscar deadpanned, nudging the skate aid towards the other. “Just take the aid, Lan. There are people staring.”
There were a handful of people milling about, a few who had decided that standing on normal ground wasn’t enough and that they wanted to give ice skating a crack. They scooted around the edge of the rink, clutching onto the barriers as they shuffled in the plastic rentals that the rink had on offer. A few of the braver ones strayed from the sides a little, but eventually gave up and returned to moving along slowly around the perimeter.
The center of the rink had plenty of space with only one person using that patch of ice. A blond man with black boots laced onto his feet glided over the ice gracefully. Twisting and turning across the ice, switching from foot to foot and turning into centred, fast spins.
“Holy shit!” One of the patrons exclaimed, “Is that Ilia? Hey Ilia! Do a 4A!”
The skater threw a smile in the direction of the speaker and began to speed up as he skated backwards.
Entranced by this figure skater–Ilia, he ignored the struggles of Lando as Ilia turned and kicked off into a jump, rotating in the air, and landing low and fast, leg pointed out behind him.
“Osc.” Lando had finally given in to using the skate-aid. “Osc, did you see that guy?”
Oscar hummed, and continued to shakily make his way across the ice. With a deep breath, he let go off the wall and wobbled his way a few meters without any support. Lando continued to struggle.
“Come on, Lan.” Oscar teased, “I thought you said you knew how to skate.”
Lando huffed, “I do know how to skate. Just…not right now. I’m cold. I can’t skate when I’m cold.”
Oscar chucked, “Lando. We’re in an ice rink. Of course it’s cold.”
They had come to the exit of the rink, and Oscar carefully turned to face Lando. “Hey,” his voice took on a softer tone. Do you want to go on, or should we go back?”
“Can we go back now?” Lando asked, demeanour very different from what it was an hour ago. “I am quite cold.”
Oscar nodded, “Let’s head back and stick to driving. We can leave skating to that Ilia guy.”
They made their way off the rink, returning the equipment before heading back to McLaren hospitality, ordering a coffee each to warm back up. Carrying their cups back to Oscar’s room, they flopped down together on the beanbag, Lando pulling out his phone.
“Shit.” Lando said, eyes darting across the screen, reading something.
“Lando?” Oscar asked, concerned.”What’s wrong?”
“We were meant to be at a meeting 30 minutes ago. Andrea’s going to have our head.” Lando explained, jolting back up, nearly spilling his coffee. “Oscar, quick!” He shouted as he jogged out of the room.
Oscar laughed, following after Lando– hopefully, they wouldn’t get in too much trouble.
The thirty minutes spent being lectured on punctuality, Oscar mused , were thirty minutes he would never get back.