Chapter Text
The aroma of burnt garlic and scorched herbs filled the small kitchen of the Monaco apartment. Evening light snuck in timidly through the window, illuminating the countertop cluttered with knives, pans, and countless scattered ingredients. Lando Norris, his apron ill-fitting and smiling nervously, held a plate of what he called 'his specialty': pasta with a secret sauce.
Oscar Piastri, arms crossed and frowning, looked at the plate with a mixture of amusement and disapproval. He was a man accustomed to professional kitchens, culinary critiques, and excellence in every dish. Now, he saw his partner battling the stove, in a battle that seemed more like a comedy than a lesson.
"How many stars do you give it?" Lando asked, trying to hide his uncertainty behind a nonchalant tone.
Oscar looked up and, without taking his eyes off his plate, replied seriously:
"You? Five stars. Your food? Five too."
"Five stars? Really?!" Lando put a hand to his chest, as if shocked.
Oscar smiled wryly, dropping the sentence:
"Yes, but negative."
Lando burst out laughing as Oscar approached, took the fork and tried a bit of the pasta. His expression turned serious for a moment, then he shook his head.
"Look, honey, this isn't an insult, but an opportunity. Cooking, like Formula 1, is a matter of precision, technique, and passion. But also patience. Do you want me to teach you?"
Lando nodded enthusiastically, dropping his apron on the table and turning his full attention to Oscar.
"First, clean the cutting board. See these marks? They're reminders of mistakes we can avoid. Now, julienne those tomatoes for me, carefully, as if each slice were a curve on the track you don't want to miss."
As Lando began to chop more carefully, Oscar, holding his hands and controlling them so Lando cut well, explained step by step how to combine flavors, how to respect the timing, and how to let the ingredients speak for themselves. The kitchen was transformed into a small laboratory of creativity where the chemistry wasn't just theirs, but also that of the spices and aromas.
Hours later, when they finally sat down to dinner, Lando's dish no longer seemed like a failed experiment, but a work in progress, with glimmers of promise. Oscar raised his glass.
"To the five negative stars that today become five positive ones. To you, and to this crazy idea of teaching you how to cook."
Lando smiled and clinked his glass with his boyfriend's, knowing that, with him by his side, even the worst recipes could have a happy ending.