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Logan Sargeant had always been so good at keeping a straight face, possessing an exemplary talent for suppressing his emotions.
That talent was the result of years of undergoing gruelling press training, enduring sometimes cringe-inducing debrief sessions, and navigating media scrums that threatened to engulf.
All of those things had taught him the subtle art of non-reaction. None of those talents was of any benefit to him when Oscar Piastri strode onto the post-qualifying interview stage with confidence, helmet clutched firmly under one arm, race suit still only half-zipped, and wearing a quiet, knowing smile that played teasingly on his lips.
Pole position. Again.
This time, Monaco.
Logan's earpiece crackled faintly to indicate that the director was communicating. "Alright, Logan, you're on in five seconds…"
He breathed out slowly and nodded, adjusting the mic in his hand as he turned to face the camera.
"And now, joining us today is none other than your polesitter for the highly anticipated 2027 Monaco Grand Prix, Oscar Piastri," he announced in a voice that was casual but indubitably professional. If, deep in his chest, his heart beat just a little bit faster at the way Oscar's eyes flickered over to him in exactly the way they always seemed to, nobody had to know.
Oscar waved his hand slowly in a polite wave to the camera, signalling his acceptance, and then turned directly to face Logan. "Hiya, mate," he said, smiling.
The word landed with an intimacy only they could hear.
"This is your first-ever pole position here in Monaco," Logan said, beaming with a smile. "This is a pretty good Saturday for you, isn't it?"
Oscar smiled gently, his face obviously easy and relaxed, a state he seldom exhibited while filming. "Yeah, I couldn't complain at all."
"You seemed very calm when you were in the cockpit, particularly when you were flying through sector three. Can you describe to us what was going through your mind on that specific lap?"
Don't say you, Logan thought. He was about to exhale in relief when Oscar answered with some technical terms about grip and downforce.
The remainder of the interview continued in much the same way, a practiced pace, a comfortable give and take of thought and idea between them.
But every now and then, Oscar would meet his eye, holding it a fraction of a heartbeat too long, or Logan's voice would hitch when Oscar was talking about his crew in praise, his voice a shade warmer than it needed to be.
The broadcast concluded with a handshake that seemed to linger for just a little longer than was customary.
"Thanks, Oscar," said Logan. "And good luck tomorrow."
Oscar grinned. "Thanks, Sarge."
As Oscar walked away from the scene, the camera smoothly panned away to capture the surroundings. Logan released a long breath he had been holding and then turned his gaze toward the crew members present. “Is that a wrap?” he asked, seeking confirmation about the completion of their work.
"Yes," said the producer, chuckling loudly. "And just to let you in on a little secret, the internet is just going wild over that glance you gave him at about right after sector three. It wasn't really subtle."
Logan, with a melodramatic roll of his eyes, waved them away with his hand, his cheeks brightly red with embarrassment as he quickly retreated back into the safety of the F1TV broadcast trailer.
--
It was silent within, only the buzz of the monitors and residual warmth from the day's labour. Logan stripped off his headset and massaged the nape of his neck, yanking open the fridge for a water bottle.
His door creaked behind him.
"You know," a voice that I was far too familiar with cut in, smooth and playful, "you are absolutely awful at acting like we're just friends."
Logan glanced over to see Oscar in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, wearing a bit of a crooked smile that hinted at mischief.
"Oh, come on," Logan shot back with a wicked grin that spread across his face. "You're the same person who gazed at me as though I actually hung the damn moon up in the sky."
Oscar stepped inside the room, allowing the door to close quietly with a soft click behind him as he entered. "That's because you did," he asserted.
"Well, you try interviewing the love of your life and trying to remain neutral."
Oscar chuckled softly. "Touché."
"I wasn't meant to be biased," Logan muttered under his breath, taking a step closer to the Aussie. "But you make it really difficult for me to remain neutral."
Oscar smiled and shrugged. "Having you here makes racing easier."
There was a deep silence that surrounded them, which was not in the least bit awkward; instead, it was full of the weight of all that was not said.
"I do miss this," Logan conceded after a pause of reflection. "I miss being in it so much. Being in the car, experiencing every feeling. Being on the grid."
Oscar’s hand gently found its way to his. “You’re still a part of it. You always will be.”
Logan's fingers closed around his own in a warm, reassuring grip. "You're the only one that makes me still feel like I truly belong here," he went on, his voice emotional.
Oscar remained silent, choosing not to say a word. He leaned in gently instead and rested their foreheads against one another, pausing for a moment to breathe in the calm honesty that emanated from Logan.
"Let's not hide anymore," Oscar whispered. "Not everything. Not us."
"You sure?" Logan asked, voice low.
Oscar barely nodded his head in confirmation. "We don't need to do the official press release or even a simple tweet. All I'm asking is that you… come out with me. Tonight."
Logan smiled, gentle, modest. "Okay."
The gorgeous Monaco sunset was colouring the sky in incredible hues of pink and glittering gold, spilling its lively colours over the picturesque harbour, when they finally came out of the trailer's confines.
While coming out, Oscar's hand touched Logan's. He laced their fingers together, placing a soft kiss onto the American's hand after doing so. Logan blushed hard before wrapping his other hand around Oscar's arm, holding him close.
Several mechanics happened to take notice. A small group of journalists was also present, taking notes of what they saw. Meanwhile, one individual attempted to capture the moment by raising their phone, but unfortunately did not raise it high enough to successfully take a photo.
Nobody said a word.
And Logan knew he didn't care.
Oscar pinched his hand. "Still nervous?"
"No," Logan replied, smiling as they strolled off into the dying light of evening. "Not anymore."