Chapter Text
The Las Vegas Grand Prix. Where did Oscar even start on his thoughts regarding that race. It felt far too much like one big circus for him, Formula 1's resident introvert. The organisers wanted a show, not a sporting event. Big crowds, big music, big sights, big displays; The works. It was his worst nightmare. If he thought Drive to Survive cameras could be invasive, he was no where near ready for what was to come. It was sure to be his worst nightmare.
The theatrics started from the second he stepped foot on the track. Cameras were immediately in his face, fans were swarming and there were at least 3 Elvis impersonators running around doing their impressions. It was an instant headache.
By the time he reached the McLaren garage he was exhausted. He already felt like he needed to lie down and have a nap. If the whole weekend was like the last 10 minutes he had no idea how he was going to survive. The sight of him so fear-stricken and disheveled had his teammate laughing. Lando had been mid-conversation with his trainer when the younger man had walked in. He had seen the sigh Oscar heaved now that he was slightly more sheltered.
"Tough day?"
He huffed a laugh. "Guess you could say that. Crazy out there." He spared a glance outside and practically shivered at the horrid memory of all the people calling his name and shoving phones in his face.
Lando grinned. "Welcome to Vegas," he stated. He thrived off attention like this on race weekends. Sure pretty much all of the drivers wished the races would just be about racing, but sometimes it was out of their control. They had to either embrace it or spend the whole weekend in a mood. The McLaren boys demonstrated both sides of the argument.
He wished he could be that excited for it. The quicker Oscar was out of Vegas, the happier he would be. With Free Practice 1 soon to be underway, he was counting down the minutes.
The first practice of the weekend was a complete disaster. It was a miracle that the car had even made it out of the garage with the way it fell apart on track. It felt like every couple minutes there was another problem occurring that dragged him back into the garage for a quick fix. By the end of the session they didn't have much information to go off of. By the time FP2 rolled around it was getting late and he wanted nothing more than to head to bed for the night. He was really starting to hate Vegas.
He hoped Friday and Saturday would be better. To his uttermost joy, they were.
Friday evening's qualifying brought another pole position to add to his stats. He left the track on a high, actually rather looking forward to the race the following day.
One thing Oscar had forgotten to anticipate was that race day would bring an even bigger crowd to the track. Everything had been amped up tenfold and they even had to participate in the most brutal pre-race show. He felt like a display in a museum, or more fittingly, a tribute in a Hunger Games movie. Climbing into his car couldn't come quick enough. As soon as he had his helmet on, visor down, he could get into the zone. He could finally focus on the race and tune out the chatter around the circuit. It was just him and the car now and he planned to drive his heart out.
It didn't matter where in the world they were, when he was sitting on the grid staring at those 5 lights, there was only one thing on his mind. Win.
And that was what he did.
Oscar Piastri was the winner of the 2025 Las Vegas Grand Prix and he was ecstatic.
The podium celebrations were just as much of a big deal as the rest of the weekend had been, but for a split second while his teammate drenched him with champagne he was truly happy and could forget all the rest. Then he was dragged into his media obligations and he had to briefly leave cloud 9. He could return the moment he stepped foot in the garage to be swarmed by his team.
Chants of his name, smiles all round and countless bottles of champagne poured over him were just a few of the things that demonstrated the team's happiness. You'd think now that they were starting to win more frequently, they wouldn't get as excited, but apparently winning really does never get old.
A hand slapped his back, drawing his attention away from the cheery tones of his mechanics to find the culprit. He wasn’t surprised to find Lando standing there beaming at him.
“Congrats, winner.”
Many people online liked to speculate that there was tension between them as teammates. The fans found it very hard to believe that they could actually get along when they both had their minds set on the same goal. But in reality there was no bad blood between them, pretty much ever. They had become somewhat great friends over the seasons they’d been paired together. The 2 of them worked well as a team. They could be happy for one another when the time called for it.
Oscar smiled, a proper, toothy smile. “Thanks, mate. Feels nice to be back on the top step.” This season had been much more competitive for them than the last 2. In the handful of races that had just gone, Oscar always seemed to just fall short of a win. Not this time though.
“Celebrating tonight?”
Usually he didn’t bother. He very much liked a relaxing evening. After any normal race as soon as his obligations were over with, he would head back to his hotel and have a quiet night. Club’s weren’t really his scene. Admittedly, at the end of last season he had gone out after they secured the constructors title. It was a big deal and it felt only right to have a fitting celebration. He wasn’t quite sure if he was up for a similar celebration right now, even if he was in high spirits.
Lando could see the uncertainty written all over his friend's face. There was no way he was going to let this slide. "No, don't give me that look. You have to, you just won Vegas!" He would go to lengths to make sure he dragged his teammate out tonight.
"I don't know, mate."
The Brit grinned and Oscar knew he'd made a mistake. "That's not a no. I'll see you in a hour, I expect you to be ready." He tried to protest but it was much too late. Lando had already began walking away. Besides, he wouldn't have listened anyway. Looks like Oscar was going out tonight.
By the time he made it back to his hotel room, he didn't have long to get ready. Not that his outfit would be anything special anyway. Jeans and a button up shirt were his go-to. Everyone was probably expecting him to show up in that exact outfit anyway.
It felt like that knock was coming all too soon. He simply longed for his bed after a long day, an extremely long weekend. Now he was going to have to go out there and plaster a smile on his face that he hoped was convincing enough.
Apparently he wasn't coming quick enough for Lando's liking. "Come on, mate!" The pounding on the door was sure to annoy the neighbours basically any second now.
With a deep sigh, he grabbed his jacket and his key card and headed out for the night.
The music was booming as he stepped into the club and the amount of sweaty bodies was already making him feel a little overwhelmed. He was snapped out of his little daze by a familiar face coming over to greet him. Max grinned. "Hey, Champ. Didn't get to congratulate you earlier." It had all been rather chaotic since the moment he crossed the finish line. "Let me buy you a drink?" He was telling more than he was asking for permission.
He was unsure, but unless he tried to make this night good, he was just going to be miserable the whole time. He had to put the effort in. "Sure, why not?"
That was the start of endless drinks. He vaguely remembered dancing stiffly, quite a few rounds of shots (he didn't know who initiated those) and a spinning room. If he wasn't careful soon he was going to topple over. The alcohol was making him extremely unsteady on his feet.
Colliding with a body was the last thing he meant to do. Usually he was pretty aware of his surroundings, but he hadn't seen the woman coming at all. "Oh, I'm sorry." His words came out slurred.
When his eyes locked onto her face he was slightly taken back. Her smile was absolutely breathtaking. "Don't worry about it, hot stuff." His breath hitched and his eyes trailed after her as she headed back into the crowd of bodies on the dance floor. Such a brief encounter and yet he was hooked.
He was completely unaware that Lando had been watching him the whole time. In the very few instances where Oscar had come out partying with him, he had never seen him speak to a girl. He would look, but never any further than that. One time he had even shot a girl down, a gorgeous one at that, and he still had no idea why he didn't take her up on whatever she'd been offering. He was chronically single and that wasn't going to change unless he plucked up the courage to actually talk to someone. If he wasn't going to have that courage on his own, Lando was going to give him a little push in the right direction.
"Go talk to her."
His head whipped around so fast he was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. Thank god for all the neck training they do. "What? I can't. Don't be ridiculous."
Lando scoffed. "Of course you can. Just go, say words, be yourself. It's easy." He didn't give him another chance to protest, physically shoving him in the direction she headed in. He stumbled over his feet, questioned whether what he was doing was a good idea and then decided to just do it anyway. He was like a lost puppy as he looked for her.
The next thing he knew he was waking up back in his hotel room. His head was throbbing. It felt like his brain was going to literally explode. He let out a groan, shoving his face into his pillow in an attempt to block out the blinding sunlight peering into the room.
It took him far too long to register that he wasn't alone. It was the warmth in the space next to him that first signalled he had company. He stilled. There wasn't supposed to be anyone beside him right now. What the hell had he done last night? It took a lot of willpower to finally get him to turn his head and confirm what he basically already knew. By the looks of it his mystery guest was still asleep. Her hair was spread out on the pillow, the sheets falling just above her waist. He rubbed at his eyes, like he was trying to figure out if it was all just a dream. Afterwards, when he moved his hands away from his face and saw that she was still there, he knew it was real. "Fuck."
Apparently he'd said that louder than he intended. His guest let out a soft groan and began to rouse. His eyes widened and he suddenly didn't know what he was supposed to do. He watched her closely, seeing the groggy peace on her face that turned into confusion and panic when she realised her surroundings were unfamiliar. It was the same reaction he had when he noticed he wasn't alone in his bed. Her eyes roamed the room until they landed on him, sitting beside her, awkwardly staring at her.
Her eyes practically bulged out of her head upon seeing him. The grip she had on the covers tightened and she pushed herself into a seated position, trying to match his height. "Um, hello. Where am I? How did I get here? And what the hell happened last night?"
He could only answer 1 out of 3 of those questions for her. "You're in my hotel room, at the Hilton. As for everything else, I have no idea."
She nodded. Her face went a little blank as she tried to take in the information. Every now and then she would look at him again, then quickly look away like she didn't want to get caught, even if he'd already seen her. She wasn't the only one that had questions and he was hoping he wasn't the only one with an answer. Maybe he was jumping to some conclusions. Maybe the fact the 2 of them were naked meant nothing other than the fact they had gotten too warm in the middle of the night. He shouldn't be jumping to conclusions.
"Did we?" He pointed between the 2 of them, hoping she could read between the lines and he wouldn't have to say it.
She rolled her eyes. Surely it wouldn't take a genius to work it out. Maybe he was dumber than she thought. He certainly didn't look dumb, but she supposed looks could be deceiving. "Considering neither of us are wearing clothes, I'd guess so."
He breathed a laugh but it was more nervous than it was amused. "Yeah, right." He should have been able to confirm that on his own but he really was feeling out of it. It felt like his brain wasn't even his own anymore. She didn't seem as phased as he did.
It was clear to her that this wasn't normal for him. She felt a little bad. If she had known it would be this awkward, she would have left before he woke up and she had to experience this whole situation. Suddenly feeling a little exposed, she pulled the covers right up to her neck, smiling shyly at him. Weirdly, she felt a little judged.
Oscar wasn't very good at being subtle. He was trying to look at her, to commit her features to memory as sneakily as he could. She could feel his stare burning into her though. Which meant she noticed the second his face twisted into something of disgust. Her heart began to race. The light had caught a piece of jewellery on her finger, one that looked suspiciously like a wedding ring. The fact that he'd slept with a married woman made him feel dirty, but at the same time it made him angry that she hadn't put a stop to it.
"You're married too?" he hissed. How had he ever let this happen?
Her brow furrowed. She glanced down at her left hand, then had to do a double take at the ring adorning her finger. That hadn't been there yesterday when her night of partying began. Things were starting to fall into place, like the pieces of a puzzle finally slotting into the places they belonged. "I'm not married."
He scoffed. There was no way she was going to try and lie her way out of this. "I can see the ring. How are you going to sit there and deny it?"
When she looked at his hand she found exactly what she was expecting to find. "I'm not the only one." She pointed to his finger. He shook his head. There was no way in hell he was going to let her turn this around on him. He wasn't the bad guy right now.
"What are you talking about? I'm not--" When he finally did look at what she'd been pointing out, he was surprised to find a matching band donning his hand. His heart sank. All the jokes he'd heard over the weekend about a driver holding a drunken Vegas wedding, and yet he never actually believed it would happen. "Shit."
The brunette jumped up, throwing on some underwear and the jeans he'd been wearing last night. He just needed to temporarily panic for a little while. He was muttering under his breath and she was worried he was actually going to have an anxiety attack or something.
"Look, we don't need to overreact. We'll figure this out." Her voice was pretty soothing he had to admit. "Maybe we should start with names," she said. She was doing more for the situation than he was, he could appreciate that at least. "I'm Natalia."
He eyed her nervously. All he could really think about was his career. Was this going to ruin everything for him? Would he be fired? Zak was surely going to hate him for damaging his reputation just as they started to really be competitors. This was the first season, start to finish, where they had really look good. Fast. Like winners. He was going to throw it all down the drain because of a dumb mistake. He sighed. Being standoffish with her wasn't going to help anything. "I'm Oscar."
That seemed to make her happy. "Well, Oscar, it looks like we're in deep shit."
That pulled a laugh out of him. "Yeah, looks like it."
He was trying to rack his brain for any memories of last night. He remembered the club, seeing his fellow drivers there, the drinks flowing. No matter how hard he thought back he couldn't seem to remember the moment he met Natalia. It probably sounded pretty bad that he couldn't remember meeting his now wife. He was hoping she would do better on the whole remembering front. "Do you have any idea what happened last night?"
She sighed, rubbing at her head like it was going to make any kind of difference. "No. Honestly, I think I'm still a little drunk." She would have laughed had it not felt like a wildly inappropriate moment to do so.
That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He needed someone that could piece together the events of the night. Surely they had to have a witness if they'd gotten married. He just needed to figure out who it was. He was praying he didn't have to find out online. Being caught in a club by someone's camera wouldn't be a new thing for him. There was always eyes watching him in his world.
"This is... not like me at all." First impressions were a big deal and the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was some sleazy douche. If he was appalled by his actions he couldn't imagine what she thought of them. "I can't believe I did something like this. Maybe my drink was spiked or something, 'cause this doesn't make sense."
He was definitely reaching now. He just didn't want to take the blame. "I think we were both just wasted, Oscar." Mistakes happened. She didn't know why he was making this such a big deal. All they had to do was get a divorce, it wasn't like there was any emotional baggage that came with it to make it difficult. "And I'm sure it'll start to come back to us as the day goes on."
He really wished that was the case. The brown-haired man was hoping anything would jog his memory. He doesn’t really remember anything as he looks at her. There’s faint memories from inside the hotel room, flashes of lacy white material and bare skin, the smell of vanilla and coconut shampoo; Heat, sweaty bodies. It’s all quite a blur, a pleasant blur nonetheless.
His head hurts. That could be the thinking or the hangover if he was being truthful. He began pacing the bedroom before he realised what he was doing. He was probably only stressing them both out.
“This doesn’t make any sense.”
She sighed, sinking deeper into the hotel room’s plush bed. She was tired of going through the same thing over and over when her hangover was practically eating her alive. “I don’t know what to tell you.” Her voice was barely louder than a mumble, but he wasn’t listening anyway.
He ran his hand through his already disheveled hair. “This isn’t like me. I don’t party or have one night stands and I definitely don’t elope in Vegas!”
He stopped his pacing. His eyes trailed over to her, sprawled out under the covers, looking like the epitome of angelic. He envied how peaceful she looked and simultaneously was obsessed with just how gorgeous she was. He sighed. Even if he didn’t remember much from last night, he understood how he could have fallen under her spell. He wished he'd have been sober. Maybe they could have had something nice.
The sudden silence tore her eyes open, curiosity getting the better of her. She didn’t expect to find Oscar staring right at her with a look in his eye she couldn’t place. “What?”
“You’re gorgeous.”
Her cheeks burned and her eyes went wide. He had said it like it was nothing, but to her it was everything. “Oscar…”
It was his turn to blush now. He obviously hadn’t realised what he’d said, nor the implications of it. His mouth had simply moved faster than his brain. She watched as his demeanour suddenly turned shy. “S-Sorry. Not helping I know.”
He took a seat on the edge of the bed with a deep exhale. His elbows rested on his knees and he put his head in his hands. Not only was the team going to kill him, Zak especially, but his mother was going to have his head if she found out about this. What the hell was he supposed to do?
Natalia frowned. With a sigh she moved across the length of the bed, minimising the distance between them. Maybe it wasn’t a wise idea, they weren’t really in a relationship after all, but she felt some sort of duty to comfort him. This was partly her fault after all. “Oscar.” She plastered her front to his back, setting her chin on his shoulder. She didn’t know why this all felt so easy. “We’re going to figure this out, I swear.”
He hummed. "I know, it's just--" he trailed off, finding it hard to put his train of thought into words. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, he was sure she was a lovely girl, but the last thing he needed right now was to be married. He couldn't figure out why she wasn't as freaked out about this as he was. She was acting like this was a normal Monday. "Why aren't you freaking out about this?"
He felt the way her mouth curled into a smile against his shoulder. "Looks like I married rich, what is there to freak out about?"
His eyes widened. "What?" Did she know who he was? Had this all been some elaborate plan to get his money. This is what his mother had warned him about when he finally made it into Formula 1, he just thought she was always being dramatic. "How do you know...?" He glanced over his shoulder at the girl.
"Have you seen this hotel room, Oscar?"
That much he had forgot. Admittedly he had become a little desensitised to the fancy world he lived in. The hotel rooms McLaren had them stay in were certainly nice. He felt a little dejected. If he had to be stuck in this situation he was glad it was with someone so nice, he was starting to wonder if that was really the case.
"Can't wait for our anniversary. I'm thinking diamonds."
This time around he heard the teasing lilt in her tone. It felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. "You're kidding."
Her face split into a grin. "Of course I'm kidding. I married you 'cause I was drunk off my ass, Oscar, not because I thought you had money." The pair laughed together. She really had fooled him there for a minute. Maybe they really could get along better than he anticipated.
His eyes were shut and for a second his head finally stopped pounding. Until he froze. She felt him tense under her. He had a horrible, well actually rather pleasant, sudden realisation. “Are you naked?” His voice trembled as he phrased the question and knowing he was nervous made her stomach do a funny flip. She liked the effect she had on him. It was quite the ego boost.
Before now she hadn’t really thought about it. All she knew was that she was comfortable. Now that she looked down at her body though, she knew there wasn’t a lick of clothing on her. “Yeah. Why, does that make you nervous, Oscar?”
Her voice sounded so sultry. The way her lips formed the letters of his name. The feel of her hot breath on his ear. He shivered. “Oh god,” he mumbled. The images his mind were conjuring right now were enough to make his heart race. “Please put some clothes on.” Never did he think he would be saying those words to a girl. Teen Oscar would be cursing him right about now.
With his eyes squeezed shut he only heard the rustling of the sheets behind him. He tried so very hard not to think about what she was doing.
"Okay, I'm clothed. You can open your eyes now." There was still a rather menacing tone to her voice. When he finally plucked up the courage to dare to take a look, she had slipped his shirt from the previous night over her head. The way it draped over her figure, the fact it was his, it did something to him in ways he couldn't explain. She was already going to be the death of him. He could tell by the sparkle in her eye that she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
He cleared his throat in a bid to regain his composure. "Okay. Now that I can sort of think straight, we need to figure out a plan."
Her brow furrowed. "Can't we just go and get it annulled?"
He really wished it was that easy. "Not really. This is going to be complicated." He was sugar coating it for sure. It wasn't everyday a Formula 1 driver eloped in a drunken Vegas wedding, especially not one as quiet as Oscar. Fans might have expected this behaviour from Lando or someone like Jenson back in the day, but definitely not him. If the media got their hands on this it would be a shitstorm. He didn't want to break it to Zak just yet, but he needed another opinion from someone who understood the weight of the situation. "I have to make a call."
Natalia watched from her place against the headboard as he scrambled around the room in search of his phone. When he found it he shot her a nervous smile and briefly dipped out of the room. Now she was left to her thoughts for the first time since she woke up in someone else's bed. "What the fuck?" she whispered.
The only person Oscar could think to call that might not freak out about this whole thing was unfortunately, Lando. The phone rang and rang until it went to voicemail. Really he should have known that the man would have still been sleeping. Nothing was going to make him give up on this though. He called, over and over again until the incessant ringing sound from his phone must have woken him up.
When he answered he was clearly groggy. "Hello?"
"Lando, I need you to come to my hotel room, right now."
The man groaned like a child throwing a tantrum and for a second Oscar thought he'd fallen asleep again. He waited for a minute and then grew impatient. The longer things went unfixed, the more opportunity things had to go wrong. He really didn't want the world finding out about this if they didn't have to. Of all people he'd like to hide this from, his mother was definitely at the top of that list. "Lando, I'm serious. I fucked up."
Upon hearing that, the older man grew intrigued. It was usually him that was the fuck up, not Oscar. He really wanted to see how this panned out. Either he had royally fucked up or he was overreacting. The curiosity would eat him alive though. He sighed heavily down the line. "I'm on my way."
It felt like an eternity before he heard the furious knocking on his hotel room door.
Oscar wrenched it open to find a half-asleep Lando standing at his door. The man looked practically dead on his feet. The brunette took a quick look into the hall, like he was expecting to be watched or something, then frantically ushered him inside. For the first time since the phone call had ended earlier, Lando began to worry his friend was actually in deep shit. Maybe this was really serious.
He walked through the main room, intending to sit down somewhere and get comfortable. He had a feeling he was in for a ride. “So, what's so important that you had to get me up this early?” he grumbled. He was far from a morning person, especially when he was hanging. He didn't think he could be blamed for his attitude.
Natalia frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. “It’s 1 in the afternoon.” She pointed out.
The brown-haired man’s head whipped in her direction. A woman’s voice had been the last thing he expected to hear in Oscar’s hotel room. Let alone one who looked more than relaxed, wearing a familiar shirt and, by the looks of it, nothing else. There were a lot of things running through his mind. His first emotion was confusion, followed by amusement and finally he felt ready to begin his teasing. “Oscar! You dirty dog. Who’s this?” He looked at his friend to find a look of utter annoyance. Clearly he wasn’t going to get anything out of him. He turned back to the mystery woman with a grin. “And who are you?”
The Aussie despised how much he was enjoying this.
“I’m his wife.” She wiggled the fingers of her left hand in the air, showcasing the cheap band wrapped around her ring finger.
Lando choked on his own breath. The man sputtered as he looked between the pair, unsure what to think. Was the pretty girl pulling his leg? Was she serious? Surely not. This wasn't anything like the man he knew. Sure he had opened up a lot since they'd first met, shown his true personality, but nothing quite like this. He chuckled unsurely. He needed confirmation from Oscar before he would believe anything.
“Mate?”
He thought it was an odd joke until he saw the clear guilt written all over the younger man’s face. He gasped, pointing between the woman and then Oscar, like he was trying to digest the news. When it finally clicked it was obvious that the whole situation had tickled Lando. He began laughing before he could help it. His laughter loud and boisterous filled the room. Oscar Piastri had gotten married in Vegas last night.
It made Oscar’s head pound and his annoyance triple. He should have known the older man would be of no help to him. Of course he was going to find this funny before he even thought about offering his help. Oscar just wished he had better timing. This wasn't a great impression to make in front of his new wife after all, who speaking of looked like she was completely over this whole situation. He really couldn’t blame her. At least she didn’t have to deal with Lando all year round.
"Oh, this is incredible. Mate, you're so fucked."