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Chapter Text

His parents said that he would know.

They said he would wake up feeling so close to completion, but a deep yearning, a desperate anticipation, would settle into his bones. They talked about the heart aching for its other half, the physical, unrelenting pain in their chests that wouldn’t lift.

Ever since turning 16, Lando has waited, dreading that pain in his chest; the one that would come once he first dreamt with his soulmate.

But his parents also talked about a warmth.

One that would wind its way through his body, nestling next to that pain. Contentment, the constant presence of his soulmate that would make the unrelenting pain worth it, because that warmth meant that his other half is somewhere, out there. His parents called it reassurance; Lando always pictured it something closer to hope.

When he was much younger, Lando would ask his mum over and over again how it felt, the first time she knew his dad was her soulmate. It was his favourite bedtime story.

When they first met, Lando’s parents didn’t know they were soulmates. No one ever remembered their soulmate dreams, not until they fell in love. Whenever his mum reminded him of this fact, a little Lando would scrunch his face up and stomp his foot, declaring that it was stupid, and unfair, and how would Lando find his soulmate without remembering his dreams?

His mother would smile fondly and shrug; it was just how the universe worked.

She never shied away from telling Lando about the pain, not just in her chest, but when she was in her dreams too. She once described holding Lando’s dad, begging for their awake selves to fall in love, just as they had done in their dreams. Lando asked why being in love in the dream doesn’t count when they’re awake. His mother simply shrugged again.

But then she would tell Lando how easy it was to fall in love with his dad, how worth it it all was when she finally remembered her dream, the certainty that finally came.

Lando’s mum began the story with the pain, then the warmth, but it would always finish with the completion.

Soulmate dreams always occurred in an idealised setting, one that was a combination of both soulmates’ favourite things. His parents' dreams changed location a few times, but the most common was a cozy living room, sofas, filled with blankets and cushions, all facing a warm, glowing fireplace. His mother called it lovely, his dad called it intimate. Lando knew though, that their living room at home is based on their dreams, a constant reminder of that warm intimacy.

Lando wants something like that, but he knows that nothing he loves is quite that warm, or loving.

Instead, Lando’s love is fast, relentless, tiresome. He knows what yearning feels like, out on the track. The desperation sits there, clawing at his throat as he pines for more than a soulmate, but also to live out his dreams.

Motor racing is a ruthless game of will, and Lando knows he wants it badly enough, a seat at the Formula One table. He feels the yearning, it feels like the same pain his mother described.

But he also feels fear. Racing feels like his soulmate, how can Lando love anything, anyone, the way he loves his sport?

The fear of not being enough, too focused on racing, too ambitious, too wild, sits in Lando’s head. The craving that he feels for racing, if that is what he should feel for his soulmate instead, then maybe Lando doesn’t have one.

Maybe, Lando will be alone, with racing as his only solace.

His parents call him silly for thinking it, but the anxiety remains. Lando knows, logically, that soulmates are inherent to humans. The universe dictates that his desire for a soulmate means he will have a soulmate. It’s the pattern that scientists have researched for millennia.

But still, Lando worries that his devotion to racing will undermine his desire for a soulmate, his devotion to a theoretical second half.

The anxiety has been the same every night since he turned 16, over a year of waiting for the universe to finally grant him mercy from the endless anticipation.

—

It happens on a Thursday, a week before the European F3 season opener.

Lando’s glad it happened in his own room, his own bed, instead of some too-cold, too-clean hotel room. A hotel could never preserve the post-dream warmth, not like his own home could.

Lando knows that it’s a dream, because he wakes up refreshed and calm, instead of the growing dread that builds as the upcoming season crawls closer. The scenery helps, too.

He’s on a track, somewhere nondescript, but Lando can hear the crashing of waves against a beach, can taste the salt in the air, as it mingles with the vague smell of burnt rubber and citrus. Immediately surrounding the track are fields of flowers. Orange, yellow, red and a million other colours burst out from the acres of green grass, until it finally gives way to a beach. The sun shines from above, gentle despite the lack of any clouds in the sky.

The track itself doesn’t exist outside of this dream, he thinks. It’s too big to be a karting track, and Lando, who spent a whole summer memorising every single track on the F1 calendar, doesn’t recognise the long straight he’s stood on. However, while Lando longs to walk the track, to search for any recognisable features, he knows he shouldn’t. Something is telling him to wait, just a little bit longer.

The location of a soulmate dream is said to be a manifestation of what both soulmates love, their favourite things. Lando guesses that the rest of the surroundings are his soulmate’s, while he’s left with just a track to share. Even the dream knows racing is his first and only love, so far, at least.

But it’s where they will meet, for the first time, Lando can feel it. Maybe that means the track is for both of them. Maybe his soulmate will understand the pull, the desperation, the obsession he feels towards racing.

Maybe they’re the same.

Lando’s so caught up in his stream of thoughts that he doesn’t notice the tentative footsteps approaching from behind him, so he startles when he hears a clearing of the throat at his back.

He doesn’t turn around. Not immediately.

He’s not scared.

It’s only his whole future standing behind him, quietly, patiently waiting for Lando to turn around. Lando had to wait for over a year, it’s only fair that his soulmate waits a few more seconds for him to gather himself.

Lando takes a deep breath, the salty air feels more refreshing than icy water on a hot summer day. It stills his racing thoughts, his remaining insecurities.

He turns around.

Chapter Text

His soulmate stands in the middle of the track, maybe a metre from him. It’s a boy, which doesn’t entirely come as a surprise to Lando. A small part of him knew that he’d never really found girls attractive.

The boy is about his height, probably a bit taller. His hazelnut hair curves into a prince-like swoop, which Lando found to be far more attractive than should be reasonable. It looks soft, he wants to run his hands through it. His eyes are dark and open wide, as if he’s shocked by the very sight of Lando. A light dusting of freckles covers his nose and cheeks, paired with a gentle spread of blush making its way across his face. He’s cute, Lando decides pretty quickly.

His soulmate speaks first, a tentative voice breaking through the heavy silence that had fallen between them.

“Hi.”

Lando breathes, absorbing the sight and sound of his soulmate as he inhales. Then he responds.

“Hey.”

It comes out rough, like a shaky sigh falling from his mouth. It cuts through the atmosphere carefully crafted by the dream, like a blunt knife trying to pierce through an orange. One simple word, and yet Lando is already ruining the delicate air between him and his soulmate. The person that’s going to be stuck with him; his future.

And yet, his soulmate merely gives a sheepish half-smile in response, awkwardly curling his lips inward. Lando takes it as a show of support, that he, too, feels the same discomfort. It feels like a reassurance that they’re both going to get through it. Together.

“I’m- uhh- I’m Lando.” He stutters out, still staring, embarrassed that this is the first impression his soulmate gets from him.

They’re soulmates, it’s not supposed to be awkward. It should be smooth, easy.

But then his soulmate says, “I know.”

Lando watches as his face drops and eyebrows shoot up, as if shocked by the words that came out of his own mouth.

Lando himself is also shocked, and confused. Had they already met in person? Had Lando seriously forgotten the, frankly, gorgeous boy in front of him? That’s Lando’s leading theory, and he’s already got a half-formed plan in his head for how to make it up to him, something including a bouquet of wildflowers and a long walk on the beach, when his train of thought is interrupted.

“Wait! I- Uhhh.” His soulmate begins, an almost shameful expression taking over his face as he speaks. “I race. In F4. I- I guess you could call me a bit of a fan?” It comes out like a question, apologetic and hesitant, but Lando can hardly focus on that tone when his soulmate essentially spoke the keys to his heart.

“You race?” Lando asks eagerly, a grin taking over his face. Then, “wait- you know who I am?” slips out of his mouth like an afterthought.

“Yeah…” His soulmate responds hesitantly, “I’m Oscar. Piastri.” He tags on.

“Oscar.” Lando repeats, and a warmth grows inside him as he tastes his soulmate’s name on his tongue. Oscar. It fits perfectly, like orange juice in the mornings, like honey on fruit, like it’s something sweet that makes everything better.

It’s a simple name, common, even. Lando thinks he’s found a new favourite word.

“Yup. Oscar.” He hears, the voice acting like an anchor for his wandering mind, “I- Uhh. I’m in the British F4 championship. We raced last weekend.”

This is the first time he realises his soulmate has an accent, one that’s distinctly not British. Australian, maybe?

“Did you win?” Lando asks, instead of please keep talking, your voice is all I want to hear ever again, instead of can I count every sparkle in your eyes and freckle on your cheeks. Lando’s proud of himself for maintaining his composure, despite the odds being stacked against him.

“Nah, but I podiumed twice?” Oscar responds, more confident this time, and yet still obviously seeking approval from Lando, his soulmate.

“Mint.” Lando grins again, wider this time, “my soulmate’s a winner.”

“Podium sitter.” Oscar corrects, “not winner, yet. Not like you, at least.”

“Close enough though, right?” Lando reasons, “Like, you probably had to win in karting to be in f4 anyways, so I am technically correct.”

“Geez,” Oscar says through a series of giggles, shaking his head and looking towards the ground, as if Lando’s words were ridiculous instead of factual. And yet, when he looks back up, Lando can see a twinkle of excitement in Oscar’s eyes, hidden behind the exasperation coating his features. Maybe there’s a shred of fondness there, or maybe Lando’s already reading too much into his expressions.

“Aww, c’mon Oscar,” Lando continues, dragging out his voice in a teasing manner, “I’m hyping you up! That’s like the whole point of being a soulmate, it’s basically a glorified hype man with added benefits.” Lando wiggles his eyebrows at the mention of ‘benefits’.

“Lando.” Oscar responded in a chastising tone, but Lando can see he’s desperately trying to keep his laughter back, as he shakes his shoulders and forces a frown on his lips.

“Whatever, you can’t deny being my hype man anyway.” Lando exclaims triumphantly, “What was it you said, “not like me”? Well, Mr Oscar Piastri, just how much of a fan of me are you?”

Lando grins again as he watches Oscar’s face go as red as a strawberry, and the embarrassed expression he’d worn when they first met returns.

“Ok, in my defence,” Oscar begins, and Lando just bursts out laughing. Oscar, through his own giggles, attempts to keep going, “no- no. Please, Lando. I swear I’m not weird. Please!”

Lando keeps laughing at his begging, a futile attempt to retain any sort of respect for himself. He can’t stop, fuelled by the overwhelm of emotions that he feels in this moment, this perfect moment. He feels joy, of course, at the fact that he has a soulmate, that his soulmate is perfectly his type, that they so clearly already mesh so well together. But his laughter also comes from relief. His soulmate, Oscar, understands the obsession he has with racing, the unhealthy dependence he has on the sport, on the hunt for glory, Oscar gets it. Because Oscar races too, because Oscar has idols from racing series before Formula One, like him.

Oscar keeps begging, keeps saying the occasional ‘please’ through the laughter they share together, and it keeps setting Lando off again. Eventually, however, they calm, not the uncomfortable stillness again, instead, a lot more comfortable in each other’s company. Comfortable enough to let a silence settle between them, briefly, while they just look and smile softly.

It’s Oscar, again who breaks the silence, saying, “it’s because you feel reachable.”

“Huh?” Lando says eloquently in response.

“Where you are,” Oscar says, simply, “I mean, you’ve still won almost every championship you’ve touched, but Formula One still feels like some distant dream, you know?” Lando does know, “And you’re right there, one step ahead, and doing exactly what I want to be doing.”

“So I’m like, a realistic goal for you?” Lando asks, curious and patient.

“Well, I mean I love your driving style too, you’re incredible on the track.” Oscar states, like its an objective truth, and Lando blushes furiously in response. “But also, I- I moved to the UK last year, alone, so that I could race. And, I guess, seeing you on the track and being so successful, reminds myself that I can be there, too. I can be successful. Like, coming to the UK alone will be worth it, you know?”

Lando watches Oscar, watches the way his shoulders hunch up just a bit, and hears how his voice gets quieter, more melancholy, and decides there’s only one remedy for this.

“Can I give you a hug?”

Oscar startles, but then smiles softly. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I’d really like that, actually.”

And that’s all the permission Lando needs to close the short distance between them, pulling him into a hug.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise.” Lando says, and he means it, too.

They stand there, in the middle of a fictional race track that sits among flower-filled meadows by the sea, with the sun shining gently on their back; together.

—

Lando wakes up on Friday morning, and he feels it. He feels the warmth his parents had always described. It feels like contentment, like relief. That warmth means he can learn to love beyond his devotion to racing, can instead dedicate that devotion to someone.

He recognises the painful yearning settling itself deep inside his chest. He recognises that he wished for longer, just an extra minute to be with his soulmate. But that pain, beyond all else, shows that he is not alone. Lando has someone waiting for him, someone who will grow to love him the way he can love them.

And that doesn’t feel like a painful misery; it feels like an exciting hope.

When Lando eventually gets up for breakfast, he will go to the fridge for a glass of apple juice. Instead, he emerges with the orange juice, only he doesn’t notice until he’s taken the first sip.

It should be unexpected and sour, but instead it tastes sweet, it tastes familiar. The flavour lingers, it sits on Lando’s tongue like it belongs there, like it's the beginning of something.

Chapter Text

The next time Lando dreams, he feels more prepared, more expectant. His soulmate is no longer some abstract, blurry concept too far away to see. They’re within reach, now. Lando feels like he could just reach out a little bit further and they’d be right there. It’s a nice feeling

His parents were elated when he first told them, both drawing him into a hug and taking turns kissing his head in between their matching grins. There’s so much love in that moment, it feels like the sun bursting through dark clouds, showering the earth in golden warmth.

Knowing that there was someone else out there made for him, made to love him so completely, was like a reassuring hug, filled with warmth and contentment. Lando was so excited to fall in love with his soulmate if this is what it felt like after one dream.

His best friend Max, who hadn’t dreamt yet, asked him what it felt like. Lando struggled to find the words to properly explain it beyond ‘warm’ and ‘complete’, borrowing the descriptions of his parents. But it felt new, too, uncertain. Max laughed when he compared it to the shoot of a plant, newly exposed to the sun and waiting in anticipation to grow. Lando didn’t care, he was far too happy to let some mocking laughter ruin his mood.

In the days between, Lando found himself missing the warmth, craving it like a sunflower craves the sun. It feels similar to his desperation for victory, only something far more tangible, something just out of his reach instead of some distant dream.

When he returns to the track, he's accompanied by a sense of relief and calm. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, allowing the smell of tarmac and salt to fill his lungs. It tastes familiar, welcoming. It tastes like something that could become a home.

“You look happy,” Lando hears, in that familiar, lovely Australian accent. He opens his eyes to seek out his soulmate, smiling as he rests his gaze on Oscar. It almost feels uncontrollable, the way his eyes feel like they're meant to look at Oscar and Oscar only, as if looking at anything else takes more effort, and doesn't feel quite as right.

“I am,” Lando replies earnestly and through his smile, “I’m back here. With you.”

He watches fondly as a blush spreads across Oscar’s cheeks. They say ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, and Lando understands it. It’s only the second time Lando’s even met his soulmate, and yet he could no longer imagine it being anyone else.

“I’m happy, too,” Oscar says, “I won't lie, I half convinced myself that I'd imagined all this.” He breathes, “I'm so glad I didn't.”

“Me too,” he says, softly. And he means it, too, so much. Lando has never felt so compelled to tell the truth, to rip his chest open and bear his heart to someone. If he could, Lando would tear his heart out of its cavity and give it to Oscar to keep safe, to cherish within his palms, wholly vulnerable to his soulmate’s whims.

A silence falls over them, after that. It’s not uncomfortable, Lando doesn’t think it could be uncomfortable with Oscar if he tried, but Lando doesn’t want to stay in it. He wants to know as much as possible about Oscar as soon as possible, and that means keeping up a conversation for as long as possible.

“D’you wanna go find the beach?” He asks suddenly, his desperation slowly seeping into the question.

“Yeah… Ok.” Oscar responds, hesitant, possibly disbelieving. Lando doesn’t know why Oscar feels that way, but he knows he’s going to have to take charge of this dream.

So, he walks forward and grabs Oscar’s hand, smiling widely as Oscar looks and their newly conjoined hands, and then back at Lando.

“C’mon, Osc,” Lando says, “I wanna learn as much about you as possible, so we’d better get started.”

Oscar blinks, but then smiles too, albeit smaller than Lando.

“Osc?” He questions.

“Well yeah,” Lando responds matter-of-factly, “If you’re my soulmate, I’m not calling you ‘Oscar’ the whole time, that’s way too formal, duh.”

“Ok…” Oscar responds, clearly a bit baffled, but Lando knows he secretly enjoys the new nickname already. “Let’s go then, Lan.”

Lando’s smile grows impossibly larger, his toothy grin on full display as he drags Oscar in the direction he thinks the beach is in.

-

The walk to the beach proves to be one of the best decisions Lando has ever made.

It takes a while to actually start the walk, as they search for an opening in the long, wooden fence surrounding the flower fields. Lando finally spots a stile, dragging an unsure Oscar over to the gateway. He giggles as he watches Oscar scramble to climb over it, clearly a city boy at heart, before showing him how it’s done.

Oscar looks at Lando with fond exasperation, a smile on his face despite having just been made fun of. He takes Lando’s hand once more, and pulls him along the path that winds its way through the flowers. Neither let go for the rest of the dream.

Lando finds out so much about Oscar on that walk. He learns his favourite colour when he points at the burnt red petals of a poppy flower. Lando, in response, seeks out the brightest yellow he can find, almost unnatural as it sticks out in the field, and tells Oscar about his helmet, bright yellow with a chrysanthemum. Just like Valentino Rossi.

He learns about Oscar’s family. Three younger sisters, and two extremely supportive parents. Lando learns how Oscar left them behind to move to the UK to pursue his karting, but goes back to Melbourne at every opportunity. Lando tells Oscar about his parents, their excitement for his soulmate dreams and their endless support with his racing ambitions. He mentions his siblings, 2 sisters and a brother, and they commiserate over annoying siblings together.

Oscar describes Melbourne to Lando, dipped in golden sun and smelling a little bit like the sea. He talks about the race, hearing the roar of V10 engines from his garden and longing to join in on the circus. In turn, Lando talks about Somerset, his house nestled in the countryside and surrounded by rolling fields. He talks about the vibrancy of Bristol, and his family’s visits to the harbourside. He mentions to Oscar that he misses it, sometimes, but that racing would always come first. Oscar, he finds, feels exactly the same.

They talk about the drive, the craving that they both feel for success, for victory. They talk about the thirst for greatness, the sacrifices they’ve both made, and will continue to make, just to have a glimpse of a future within Formula 1.

Lando talks about how for the longest time he didn’t think he had a soulmate; admits that he never believed he could love someone as much as he already loves racing.

Oscar confesses that when he was younger, he’d think about abandoning his soulmate, because nothing could distract from his dreams of F1. He also mentions that he doesn’t want to make that sacrifice anymore.

It’s been a while, when they finally get to the beach. There’s no real way to tell the time, or how much time has passed, but the conversation has been long enough that Lando feels much more confident in his knowledge about his soulmate.

“Oh, we’re here.” Oscar says, interrupting Lando’s ramble about the best place to get a Mr Whippy; Lando is only slightly offended.

“That we are Osc,” Lando responds, giving up on his tirade, “I wonder if there’s a Mr Whippy van here?”

Oscar just laughs, watching as Lando takes his shoes and socks off to walk along the beach, before doing the same. “I highly doubt that. Anyway, this looks more like an Australian beach, instead of your dreary, stony British beaches.”

“What? Oscar!” Lando exclaims, “you can’t just insult my heritage like that! We have beaches with sand! Have you even been to Cornwall?”

“No,” Oscar responds bluntly, “I really don’t want to experience a cold beach. Sand is already bad enough to deal with in a warm climate.”

He walks off, leaving Lando behind him racing across the sand to catch up.

“I’ll take you.” Lando says suddenly, out of breath and having just caught up to his soulmate. “You’re my soulmate, therefore you must experience the classic British experience that is a cold beach in Cornwall!”

“Oh yeah? When will we do that then?” Oscar says, his tone teasing and gleeful.

“It can be our first date!” Lando says unthinkingly, “we can-”

“Hold on, date?” Oscar interrupts, suddenly uncertain, “are you sure?”

Soulmates aren’t inherently romantic, Lando knows. His aunt had a soulmate, who she’d met, but they were platonic. He knew that his soulmate could’ve been similar, a best friend to rely on no matter what, but not to love and cherish in a romantic sense. But with Oscar, Lando knew that a friendship, however close, wouldn’t satisfy him. Lando craved a romance with him, desperate to experience Oscar in every possible way.

So he doesn’t have to think about his answer to that question, when he says, “yeah, a date… If that’s what you’d want?”

“I’d love it, Lan.” Oscar finally responds, a smile on his face. A wave of relief crashes over Lando, who looks over at Oscar, and finds himself matching his soulmate’s grin.

The security that Lando’s feelings are, or have the capacity to be, reciprocated, fills him with a newfound confidence, one that compels him to ask Oscar: “Can I kiss you?”

When Oscar stills, and doesn’t immediately respond, Lando begins to backtrack. “Or not. I know it’s pretty soon, to be fair, and it’s totally ok if we don’t. Kiss. I mean. We don’t have to kiss now, or in our next dream, we can-”

“Lando!” Oscar shouts, grabbing at Lando’s hands before he can start anxiously biting his nails. “Stop, ok? I just needed a second. I would love to kiss you.”

“Oh…” Lando says dumbly, “Ok. Well then…”

He trails off, unsure of what to say next. Oscar breathes out a fond laugh, drops Lando’s hands to instead bring his hands to the sides of Lando’s face, and connects their lips.

It’s a sweet, chaste kiss. Quick and innocent, but so, so perfect, like it could become Lando's new favourite activity. He flashes a smile at Oscar's face, only a breath away, and then leans in to kiss him once more.

–

When Lando wakes up in the morning, his lips tingle lightly. He knows he dreamt again last night, as he feels the warm contentment settle deep in his bones. He smiles, and begins his day.

Chapter Text

It’s been almost a year since Lando had first dreamt about his soulmate, and he knows he’s no closer to meeting them. In the past year, his career with Mclaren had taken off, and he hasn’t had much time to fall in love with anyone in between driving FP1 sessions and contract negotiations.

The hardest part of the past year was being unable to tell anyone outside of his manager and his parents, not even Alex and George, that he might be getting an F1 seat. But all the Mclaren higher ups and NDAs in the world couldn’t stop Lando from telling his soulmate, probably. If neither of them remember it when they’re awake, then surely it doesn’t count?

That’s the only thing Lando’s thinking about as he signs his first Formula 1 contract.

–

“Oscar!” Lando shouts as soon as he finds himself back at the track, not wasting a second before running into his soulmate's arms, giddy with excitement.

“Lando!” Oscar responds as he catches his soulmate, clearly attempting to match Lando’s eagerness, and yet clearly completely confused by it all.

“Oscar,” Lando repeats, practically whispers, while sporting an uncontrollable grin, “I’m gonna be an F1 driver.”

“What?” Oscar shouts, gripping Lando’s biceps as if he’ll run away, and Lando watches as his soulmate’s face twists with shock and excitement, eyes wide and open mouthed. “Mclaren? You signed the contract?”

Lando nods aggressively, the overwhelming joy and relief bring tears to his eyes. Telling Oscar makes it real to Lando, and he takes a moment to revel in the euphoria he feels.

Then, as if he’s just realised it all over again, Lando exclaims, “I’m an F1 driver!”

“You are!” Oscar replies, pulling Lando into a hug, “I knew you’d do it, you deserve it so much, I’m so proud of you.”

And if Lando buried his face into his soulmate's shoulder to hide his tears, Oscar would just smile fondly, and place a gentle kiss on top of his curls.

–

The announcement goes live on the 3rd of September, a month or so later. Lando sits, smiling, as he scrolls through the replies to Mclaren’s post.

One comment in particular stands out, for no reason, from an ‘Oscar Piastri’. It reads:

“Congrats mate, finally get to live the dream!”

Lando smiles, his thumb hovering over the like button. He scrolls instead.

–

Being an F1 driver is Lando’s dream, one that he gets to live every single day.

But it’s also a lot of work, and right now, as Lando returns to his and Oscar’s track, he wants nothing more than a good bit of complaining to his soulmate. It could be about anything, the constant travelling, the new recipe Jon is trying that isn’t quite right, or the sheets on his hotel bed that feel a bit too scratchy.

And yet, when he lays eyes on Oscar, he can’t bring himself to utter a single word. Because Oscar’s eyes are puffy and red, and he’s sniffling pathetically, clearly trying to cover up the fact that he’s been crying.

“Wha- Oscar?” Lando asks softly, his heart breaking as he watches Oscar’s face collapse with tears, before making his way desperately into Lando’s open arms.

“I- I-” Oscar begins, voice tripping over the lump in his throat. Lando just hums patiently, rocking Oscar back and forth until his sobs lessen.

“I just-” He begins again, this time with more confidence, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“Oh,” Lando says, softly, “Oscar.”

“I just-” Oscar says as Lando pulls him impossibly closer into him, “I hear Max talk about you all the time, and I can’t- I can’t join in.”

“Osc…” Lando trails off.

“All I want, all I want, is to love you in real life like I do here.” Oscar says through tears, “But I can’t. I can’t, Lando-”

“I know Oscar, I know,” Lando whispers into his hair, “It’s all I want too.”

–

“Oi, Bob!” Max says, and Lando’s head turns lazily to look at his screen. He’s watching one of the feeder series, but he’s too tired to work out which.

“This guy,” Max points at the screen as the driver in first drives past, “name’s Oscar Piastri. He’s in Renault with me.”

“Yeah? So?” Lando says, voice groggy as he’s pulled closer to sleep.

“He’s gonna be in F1 one day, I’m calling it now.” Max says with finality.

“Cool, now shuddup and let me sleep.” Lando responds dismissively, annoyed that the conversation was getting in the way of his potential time with his soulmate.

–

Lando’s still riding the high of Monza’s double podium when he steps into the Sochi paddock 2 weeks later. Even if he didn’t get the win, he can feel the energy vibrating off all the mechanics, that finally, they may have made a breakthrough in the car’s development. The MCL35 was a race-winning car.

And on Saturday, it became a pole-sitting car too.

Lando had had a good feeling about the weekend on Thursday, and coming P4 in practice 3 gave him even more hope that another podium was possible. But what Lando didn’t expect was to be sitting on pole for the first time ever.

He was ecstatic, and desperate to see his soulmate so he could share his excitement with someone. It helped that Lando always felt better after a dream, felt like he raced better, too.

He didn’t dream.

Instead, on lap 51, at turn 5, Lando lost his grip on his still-slick tyres and slid off the track.

He watched, curled up in his driver room, as Lewis Hamilton stood on the step meant for him. Saw through the tears in his eyes how Max and Carlos sprayed each other with champagne, when it should be him up there, not Carlos.

He turned his phone off and closed his eyes, hoping that a dream could save him from his misery.

–

It’s been four days since Sochi, and Lando still hasn’t woken up feeling a pleasant warmth.

Instead of waking up feeling like he’s just left a warm, loving embrace, Lando wakes up cold and alone.

He feels desolate, stuck in a spiralling tunnel of self-doubt with no light to find his way out.

On his phone there’s hundreds of messages from his family and Max, even some from his fellow drivers. But Lando doesn’t know, because his phone sits in the same spot he’d thrown it into three days ago, dead.

By the fourth night, Lando cries himself to sleep, hopeless, and yet desperate to feel the warm relief of a soulmate dream.

–

“Lando? Lando!” He hears right when he opens his eyes. Oscar’s there, ready and waiting for Lando to collapse into his arms.

“Oh my god, Lando,” Oscar breathes, relief seeping into his voice, “you have no idea how worried people are about you.”

And Lando should feel affected by those words, but instead he just feels numb to the pain he’s causing others.

“Lan,” Oscar starts again, “we had a Renault thing this week, and all Max could talk about was his worry for you. He even got me worried about you, in real life, and now all of that worry is culminating into right now and I-”

“Osc?” Lando interrupts, his voice somehow rough from disuse in the real world, “can you just… Can you just hold me? That’s all I want right now.”

“Oh.” Oscar responds, “oh, Lando, of course.”

“Thanks, Osc.”

–

When Lando wakes up the next morning, the sun is streaming into his eyes. He can feel the warmth returning to his skin, and he lets himself smile for the first time in days.

His phone gets picked up from the floor, and put on charge. It rings almost immediately, and Lando, finally, accepts the call.

“Hey, Max. I’m ok.”

–

“My F2 champion!” Lando shouts at Oscar, an eager grin on his face, which matches his soulmates perfectly.

“Lando!” Oscar shouts back, clearly excited to share this moment with his soulmate.

“I was gonna say I can’t believe you did it,” Lando begins, “but that would be a lie because I knew from day one you’d do it.”

Oscar smiles bashfully at the compliment, before leaning over and kissing Lando before any more words can come out.

“Oh,” Lando says between kisses, “I see how it is.”

Oscar merely hums into Lando’s lips instead, intent on keeping his soulmate busy.

Lando reaches up to grab the sides of Oscar’s face, as he fights to take control over the kiss. However, before things go too far, before Lando knows he couldn’t stop himself he stops and leans back, just enough to take in all of Oscar’s face, marvelling in its quiet elegance, the pretty, deep brown of his eyes that lures Lando in every time.

He breaks the silence with one word, “Alpine?” And watches as Oscar’s glow fades slightly, his smile dropping just a touch, and his eyes no longer sparkling with joy, but shining with grief.

“Not this year,” Oscar responds, simply, and Lando knows that the conversation ends here, so he leans in and recaptures Oscar’s lips with his own, happy to provide both a celebration and a distraction for his soulmate.

Chapter Text

“Guess who’s approached me for a contract.”

They’re sat on the beach together, a refreshing breeze flowing past them as the smell of salt sticks itself to their skin. They’re right next to each other, Lando resting his head on Oscar’s shoulder, feeling sleepy even in a dream.

But when he hears those words, he’s wide awake, pushing himself up and off Oscar’s shoulder and turning to stare open-mouthed at his soulmate.

“You’ve got a contract?” Lando all-but shouts in Oscar’s face, visibly elated by the news.

“No,” Oscar says patiently, “It’s not a contract yet. It’s an offer. For all I know they’ll choose someone else.”

“Why would they choose someone else?” Lando asks incredulously, “You’re literally a 2 time rookie champion, that basically means you’re the goat of the feeder serieses.”

“I mean, it doesn’t work like that-” Oscar begins, but Lando quickly interrupts him.

“Ah, I don’t care, anyways. I wanna hear who it is!”

“Ok,” Oscar says, “Don’t freak out, ok?”

“I won’t.” Lando responds, excitement visible on his face.

“Mclaren said they’re interested.” Oscar states. “In me.” He adds, after a pause, because Lando is frozen like a deer in headlights.

Then, Oscar hears the smallest whisper come from Lando’s mouth:

“We’re gonna be teammates.”

It’s so soft, the words sitting delicately between them. Neither wants to move, to potentially jinx it all by moving too fast and breaking the careful future they both could have.

“Yeah, maybe.” Oscar says, finally breaking the silence, “Mark thinks it’s gonna work.”

“I’ll make sure it works.” Lando says, determined. “Now come here, I need to hug my future teammate!”

Oscar moves into Lando’s open arms. They’ve become a second home to him, the place he looks forward to being in every time he enters the dreams. Lando loves holding Oscar in his arms too, it feels like having a purpose beyond racing, a reminder that there is more to life than the car.

“Lan?” Oscar asks, face buried in Lando’s shoulder, “what if they hate me? I’m probably leaving the team that gave me all of my opportunities, people don’t like that kind of betrayal in this sport.”

“First of all,” Lando says, his tone clearly protesting Oscar’s negativity, “Alpine betrayed you as soon as they benched you for a year. And, even if they do hate you, I’ll be your teammate, so I’ll protect you, ok?”

“Ok,” Oscar says, laughing softly at Lando’s determination.

“Don’t laugh!” Lando protests, “I’m being serious.”

“Ok, Lando, you can protect me from all the twitter trolls.” Oscar concedes.

“Good, now give me a kiss, future teammate,” Lando says, pulling out of the hug to look at Oscar.

“Nothing’s confirmed yet, Lando,” Oscar says, even as he’s leaning in.

–

When Lando first reads the tweets, he rolls his eyes.

He’d known for a while that Daniel was getting bought out of his contract, and that Mclaren were on the hunt for a new driver. They didn’t have anyone experienced enough in their development programme, and Lando half expected them to bring Pato across from Indycar, or even Palou, if they ever sorted his contract out. Maybe they’d bring back Nyck de Vries after his stellar performance in the Williams in Spain. Or, Mclaren would bring a more developed driver to their second seat, leaving Lando, as the younger, less experienced driver yet again.

To Lando, the last option felt like the most plausible. Coming up on 4 years with the team, he still felt like he was everyone’s younger brother. It was like he was there to keep the mood up, and showcase some level of talent, but not to be trusted with leading the team, with having the experience.

Zak always insisted otherwise, constantly repeating that Lando was an ‘invaluable asset’ and upping the pay check year by year, if just to keep him invested in the project. And Lando knew the team valued his feedback on the car, even if he couldn’t always explain it in excruciating technical detail, the engineers would still frantically scribble their notes as he said the car was ‘scared to turn corners’.

But Lando knew Mclaren were gonna pick someone with some experience. If just so that all the pressure didn’t lie on his shoulders, but the shoulders of his teammate, too. A rookie would never have the same pressure to perform when compared to his teammate.

And yet, Oscar Piastri.

Mclaren had gone with Oscar Piastri. A rookie. A bench-warmer, if Lando was feeling a little mean. They’d chosen a guy who hadn’t been driving full time for a year, and Zak seemed willing to fight some legal battles for him if Alpine put up a fight.

Oscar had come up a couple times in conversation with Max. A standout in the feeder series as a rookie champion in F3 and F2. Max was convinced he was going to be in F1 as soon as he escaped Alpine’s death grip.

Lando, admittedly, recognised the name. It’s hard not to when there’s been constant whispers around the paddock, that he was one to watch, a prodigy, a future champion. Even in the Mclaren garage, the leaders talked about Oscar as a potential steal, mentioning contracts that could be bought out or overturned.

Daniel, despite being replaced by the guy, spoke highly of Oscar, too. A fellow Aussie, for one, and a ‘genuine person’ too, supposedly. But Lando struggles to take any of that praise in. He can only see the boy as another disruptor, right after he’d just got comfortable.

Danny was an established presence in Lando’s life before they were teammates. He was a familiar face with a warm, welcoming personality. Carlos, on the first day they met, dropped his arm around Lando’s shoulders and took him under his wing like an older brother.

Oscar Piastri, however? Beyond Max’s brief tales from the Renault academy, Daniel’s constant reassurance that Oscar’s a great guy, and the constant admiration from everyone in the paddock, Lando knows nothing about him.

But the thing is, he feels familiar. It’s like the name ‘Oscar’ should spark more than apathy and a blank mind. It’s subtle enough that the familiarity never settles in his head long enough for him to question it.

When Zak first sat him down and said, ‘we’re signing Oscar Piastri’, Lando felt like the room was a bit warmer than usual, like he’d left the house with an extra layer on. It was probably the beginnings of summer creeping through the MTC.

It finally felt right to Lando. It was as if something had clicked into place and everything was as it should be. He took it to mean pride, justice, the team finally entrusting him with the leading responsibility.

But overall, he didn’t think much of it. Lando was far too focused on the 2022 season and all its successes to even consider the next year. A new teammate was a future Lando problem.

Then he sees the tweets.

The first is from Alpine, announcing Oscar’s promotion from the bench to the track… At the wrong team.

Lando is in the MTC the day it happens, and he watches in amusement as the PR team have to scramble between emergency meetings, constant phone calls, and avoiding a very angry Zak Brown. He simply turns back to the simulator when he gets bored of watching it all.

At 7pm, Lando’s at home, refreshing his Twitter feed, when he sees it:

‘I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press release late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract with Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.’

He rolls his eyes, giving a brief snort at the passive aggressive tone Piastri had adopted for the tweet, and closes Twitter for the evening.

Chapter Text

Piastri was late, the first time they met.

Something about the doors not working and more traffic than he expected, but Lando’s not paying attention to anything he’s saying. Instead, he rakes his eyes over Oscar’s frame from where he’s slouched in his seat.

He’s taller than Lando expected, maybe, he can’t quite tell from this angle. But Lando can’t quite tell his height with the way he’s slightly hunched in on himself, as if trying to hide. His hair’s lighter in person, too, a light hazelnut colour that swoops across his forehead. It shouldn’t work as well as it does. His dark brown eyes flit across the room, darting between Zak and Lando and Andrea and the cameras in the corner, desperate to capture this moment.

Lando doesn’t know why he flags up the freckles and moles darting across his skin, nor why he catalogues it in his brain as something ‘cute’.

Lando’s staring, he knows. But as he half-listens to Zak’s welcoming remarks, his eyes keep locking onto Oscar, like moths to a flame; he can’t look away.

He’s knocked out of his stupor when he feels an elbow jab into his side. It must be his turn to speak to Oscar, then. So, he stands up and reaches his hand out.

“Welcome to the team, Oscar. Hope you can drive fast. But not too fast, don’t want you beating me just yet!” Lando says jovially, smiling widely as it not only brings the room out in polite laughter, but makes Oscar smile too, finally cracking the shell of nerves.

When they first shake hands, Lando realises that Oscar’s hands are much smaller than his own, that they’re almost swallowed up in his grip.

Lando tries to convince himself he’s less impacted by that knowledge than he is.

–

Later, they’re taking promotional photos together, and Lando has even more opportunity to observe Oscar Piastri as he talks to the cameras.

“Oscar’s quite tall, huh?” He says absentmindedly to the people around him. “He doesn’t look tall, but he is tall.”

Lando knows he’s just thinking outloud, as no one bothers to respond to him with more than brief murmurs of agreement. But Lando sees it, how Oscar carries himself a self-consciousness unique to being surrounded by people you barely know.

Maybe Lando’s being a bit mean, making these comments about Piastri when he’s right there, and when it shows how comfortable he is in the team, able to speak his mind and only get fond rolls of the eyes in response.

So maybe Landos’s pushing it a bit when he says, “He’s only, like, 15.”

It’s not exactly a bad thing to say, but when Oscar is within hearing range, and Lando says it in a condescending manner, as if dismissive of everything Oscar’s done to get here, Lando could see why it might be taken in a bad way.

Still, he doesn’t regret it.

He knows that Oscar is his first real threat of a teammate. Carlos had been the obvious first driver during Lando’s first two seasons, and Daniel hadn’t been consistent enough to be the team’s choice over Lando.

But Oscar? He’s a wildcard.

Lando had seen his stats, his near-domination leading up to F1. He’s seen the same hunger, the one he’s felt his whole life, to drive, to succeed.

Maybe that makes them compatible as teammates; maybe they’ll be the next Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg, albeit in far worse cars with the current rate of development, or lack thereof.

So Lando doesn’t feel bad when he watches Oscar’s shoulders hunch higher as he hears those words, sees him curling in on himself, and the slight awkward smile dropping off his face. He doesn’t feel bad. He doesn’t.

(He doesn’t know why he’s trying to convince himself of this.)

–

Lando spent the whole day at the MTC mostly in the same room as Oscar. That meant he had to pretend he didn’t feel bad for being so cold-shouldered as Oscar kept walking around looking like a kicked puppy.

So by the time he got back to his Woking apartment, he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He ran through his usual evening motions on autopilot, desperate to crawl into the bed and into his dreams, where he knew his soulmate would be waiting to make him feel better.

It was a relief when his head finally hit the pillow, and yet there he lay, tossing and turning and overthinking his actions from earlier in the day. When he finally fell asleep after hours, it felt more like passing out from exhaustion than relaxing into a gentle slumber.

–

Lando was genuinely surprised to see the track when he opened his eyes, fully expecting not to dream after the nightmare of trying to fall asleep in the first place.

But then the reality of the situation fell on him all at once, crushing the usual joy that he feels around this circuit. Because there, sat on a bench and curled in on himself was Oscar. The same Oscar he’d been so cruel to earlier that day.

“Oscar!” Lando calls, already rushing to his soulmate's side. As he gets closer he can hear quiet sobs coming from Oscar, and his heart breaks even more.

“Oscar, Osc,” Lando says gently as he squats in front of his soulmate, desperate to make eye contact with him from behind the hands covering his face. “Osc, please look at me. I’m so sorry, Osc. Believe me, I’m so so sorry.”

Oscar removes his hands from his face, revealing his red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. He tries for a smile, but it looks so painful, and Lando just feels so bad.

“Oh my god Oscar, I’m so sorry. I was such an asshole today. I was so mean for no reason.” Lando says as he’s on his knees in front of Oscar, one hand cupping his cheek and the other resting on his soulmate’s knee.

“It’s ok, Lan, I know you don’t really mean it.” Oscar says, voice scratchy from crying.

“It’s not ok though, is it Osc? I really hurt you today.” Lando disputes, “I- I knew what I was doing, making you feel bad just so I’d immediately have the upper hand? I was being so shitty today, I’m sorry”

Oscar sighs, staying quiet as he takes in Lando’s words. He moves his hand to cover the one Lando left resting on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I just- It was my first day. And I was already so nervous, especially to see you, and then you were so mean.” Oscar says, more tears pooling in his eyes, “I was sad, but I knew I could just deal with it. I mean, I survived Alpine for fucks sake!” He says around a self-depricating laugh.

“Oh, Oscar…” Lando trails off. He moves to sit next to Oscar, letting his soulmate rest his head on his shoulder. He never lets go of Oscar’s hand.

“I still look up to you, when I’m awake.” Oscar says, more determined, “Never meet your heroes I guess… And then I got here, after a shitty night trying to sleep by the way, and I realised that it was my soulmate saying all those things and giving me the cold-shoulder and I- I love you Lando, and that just hurt so much.”

“Oscar…” Lando says, tears in his eyes now as he rests his head on top of Oscars. “I’m so sorry. I will do everything in my power to be nicer to you when we’re awake. You don’t deserve this, me being an asshole. I’ll do what I can.”

“You’re not exactly going to remember this conversation when you wake up, are you though?” Oscar points out.

“No,” Lando agrees, “but I couldn’t sleep tonight because I felt so bad about how I treated you. So I will be better, I promise.”

“Thanks, Lan.” Oscar says, his tears finally subsiding.

“Just you wait Osc, I’m gonna be such a good teammate one day that you’re going to forget all about this, I swear!” Lando says with cheerful determination. He lifts his head off of Oscar’s and plants a resound, determined kiss on top of that chestnut swoop.

It feels like a promise.