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“Osc”
Damnit.
Oscar hates that nickname. He hates how it makes him feel. Hates all the buzzing he gets in his stomach when he hears it. How just the sound of it makes his shoulders relax involuntarily, like the one syllable is capable of releasing all the tension in his body. He hates how he reacts to it. How his head snaps up when he hears it, always searching for the one who called. How his cheeks turn a little pink when it’s said in front of cameras. How he physically can’t suppress the smile it conjures. He hates how, even without the cameras, he still flushes when he hears it. How it’s call from down the corridor gets his heart rate up.
Oscar hates the butterflies. Hates the blush. Hates the heart palpitations. And worst of all, he hates that he knows why. He knows why this name affects him. He knows why he can’t downplay these emotions. He just can’t seem to get a freaking grip. He needs to get over this crush. The one he has on his teammate. His rival. He needs to get over Lando.
Easier said than done.
Lando is always just there. He’s there before a race when all the weight comes down onto Oscar. He’s there to coax him through the pressure. Help him to that headspace where nothing but driving matters. He’s there when they get out of their cars at parc ferme, always there congratulating Oscar, smiling that big goofy smile as his helmet comes off. He’s always there after the chaos too, celebrating wins and podiums or offering a shoulder when the day goes to shit.
That’s what’s most frustrating. Lando is always there and now he’s here. He just won. And his home race at that! But Oscar still hears the name as he stalks back to his drivers room after all the excruciating media was over and done with.
“Osc! Hey, Osc, you okay?” Lando calls down the hall.
Oscar groans as he pauses, sighs a quick huff, and looks up at his teammate who made his way to his side.
“I’m all good, mate.” He says quickly as he opens the door. He fights the blush spreading up his neck and loses terribly. As he ducks into the room, a hand lands on his shoulder and squeezes gently.
“Osc, I know you’re beating yourself up. If you need anyone to talk to, I'm here.” Lando says, smiling a soft smile that makes Oscar literally melt.
“Thanks, but I don’t want you to waste your night like that.” Oscar mumbles as he turns away. He shrugs Lando’s hand off and shuts the door behind him leaving the race winner in the corridor.
Lando blinks at the door. He sighs and leans his forehead on it.
“Osc, I don’t want to celebrate anything if you’re not there. You’re p2! That’s something worth celebrating too.” He says against the door, hoping the younger can hear.
“I’d rather hang out with you, even if you’re upset.” He whispers as he hears shuffling within the room.
That makes Oscar’s stomach flip in an amazing and also terrible way. Who wouldn’t want their crush to admit that they love being with you? But on the contrary, what is this guy talking about? Who in their right mind would rather spend a night consoling a sore Oscar rather than partying and truly soaking up a home win? It makes Oscar feel incredibly guilty for wanting Lando all to himself. Don’t get him wrong, he would love to spend the night with Lando. Maybe they’d watch a movie, house some junk food, be with each other until well into the hours of the morning, but no. Oscar can’t ask for that. Oscar can’t want that.
This is his teammate we’re talking about. Lando. It’s all too much and Oscar can’t bear to drag Lando down to where he currently is mentally. That penalty is really fucking with his brain. He can’t have Lando witness his shame spiral. He’s embarrassed about how robotic and frustrated he acted on the podium. How he didn’t truly congratulate Lando. How he was so caught up in his failure that he didn’t fully recognize his teammate’s success. He felt completely awful. So, no. Oscar will not be hanging out with Lando tonight. He won’t do that to him.
“Osc, if you blame yourself for having the feelings you have and being caught up in the moment on the podium, stop it.” Lando’s voice sounds through the door.
He was still there, like always.
“You’re allowed to have emotions. Especially after what happened. To be honest, I probably would’ve exploded if it were me. I don’t blame you for having to work with that out there. What matters now is how you’re going to make it up to me.”
That got Oscar’s attention.
How was Oscar going to make it up to Lando? He had no idea. What did Lando want? What could Oscar possibly give that would be able to counter the hole of guilt that was slowly eating away at him? Well, all Oscar knew is that needed to get out of this funk to be able to give Lando anything he deserved.
“Lando, go have fun with the rest of them.” He says in a soft, tired voice.
When he hears no response he deflates into himself and sits there with his head in his hands waiting for the wariness of the day to go past. Eventually he gives up, noting that he’ll probably carry the weight of frustration with him for the rest of his life.
He concludes that going back to the hotel and rotting away in his room would be the best way to spend the night, so he gathers himself up to the best of his ability and opens the door.
As he steps out into the hallway he is met with Lando sitting on the floor curled up against the wall with his knees pulled to his chest. His eyes were closed and his head rested slightly crooked. Oscar swears he heard a faint snore as he stared at his teammate on the floor.
Why is he still here? Why didn’t he leave? Something blossoms in Oscar's chest as he takes in the scene. He laughs in disbelief to himself as he leans down to poke the sleeping boy awake.
“Lando, hey, wake up. What are you still doing here? Why aren’t you with the team?” He asks to the man who is not budging from his spot against the wall. Oscar continues his attempts until he is just short of full on shaking the guy. Oscar huffs at yet another failure and decides he’ll just have to take care of it.
He repositions his back pack to be more comfortable as he squats down to pick up the sleeping man. He walks out of the paddock and towards his car in silence; his brain short circuiting over the insane situations he’s gotten himself into. Him, carrying Lando, his teammate, rival, crush, princess style. What the hell is happening?
He sets Lando down in the passenger seat and buckles him in like a toddler. Lando is still passed out with his head resting crooked on his shoulder. Oscar climbs into the driver's side and starts the car with familiar ease. It’s a good thing he knows where Lando’s apartment is. It is also a good thing he knows where Lando’s spare key is. But, he remains a little apprehensive. Is it weird to carry your teammate/rival/crush into their own house while they are dead asleep? What does he do afterwards? Does he just leave?
Well, yes that seems obvious; it’s not like he can just stay. That would be weird. But does he mention it to Lando tomorrow? Or does he just live with this interaction tattooed onto his brain for the rest of his life and every time Lando looks at him he will imagine himself carrying the boy in question around the paddock? Yup, sounds like torture.
Oscar pulls into the parking garage of Lando’s apartment and swiftly gets out of the car. He wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans before picking Lando up once more. He briefly questions why the man had been able to sleep through this whole thing, but pushes it aside, concluding that the adrenaline of the race must have worn off.
He carries Lando to the elevator because even though he’s muscular, he is not suicidal. Choosing the stairs would mean death. As he arrives outside of Lando’s door, he grabs the spare key and hesitated before unlocking it with surprising ease. Who knew using your hands while carrying someone wasn’t as hard as he thought? He steps inside quietly and makes sure the door locks behind him before walking through the dark apartment to the bedroom on the opposite side of the flat swiftly and slipping off his shoes.
Oscar has been to Lando’s before for small things like friend get-togethers, little parties(if you could even call them that), and dinners here and there, but this feels different. It feels domestic in a way that has Oscar buzzing. Like he is coming home for a long day at work and is ready to flop down and go to bed. Oscar blinks the thought away quickly.
He places Lando down on his bed and cracks his back with a satisfied hum. Sue him for having old man bones that aren’t used to carrying a human around. He looks around the room with potent awkwardness.
Now what? He should probably leave… but does Lando really want to sleep in jeans? The answer is most likely no, but Oscar would cut his own hands off before he changed the older’s pants while he was unconscious.
No, he’ll just have to suffer. Oscar turns on his heels to walk out of the room when a voice pierces the silence. Soft, sleepy, but there.
“Osc, where are you going? I thought you were going to hang out with me.”
Osc.
Damnit.
“Lando? Of course you wake up now, idiot.” Oscar says mostly to himself with a face palm you could feel in America.
“I’ve been awake, you muppet. I just couldn’t think of anything to say y'know." Lando explains with a half-shrug and a yawn.
Alright, what? Oscar just carried an awake Lando around just so he would have no choice but to go to Lando’s apartment, so that he couldn’t rationally argue when Lando asked him to hang out? Seriously? That is probably the most Lando Norris thing he’s ever experienced.
“So, you’ve been awake this whole time?” Oscar asks with the biggest sigh in modern history.
“Nooooo, I was asleep outside your door but you woke me up when you put me in your car. For that I dock your uber rating to 4.5/5 stars. The rest of the trip was lovely.” Lando says with a small grin as he hops off the bed and makes his way to stand next to Oscar.
“Cmon, Osc. You’re already here; we might as well order pizza and watch a silly movie.” Lando flashes that dazzling smile. The one that makes everyone within a 20 meter radius stare, melt, and short circuit all at once. And Oscar was no exception.
“You’ve exhausted all of my excuses.” Oscar sighs as he lets Lando guide him to the living room sofa. He focuses on their hands, how they are intertwined in the softest way. He can feel his palms start to sweat and he curses himself. Damn him and his normal bodily functions. He hopes Lando won’t notice because the hand holding is really nice. It brings back the warm, fuzzy feeling Oscar knows so well.
Man, what was he doing here in his teammate/rival/crush’s house being led to a big sofa, that they will no doubt fall asleep on later(together?), blushing like a tomato and hating his brain for wishing that every 1-2 ended with the two of them alone to celebrate.
Lando grabs the remote from the coffee table before plopping down on the sofa with a dramatic sigh.
“Cmon, Osc. I’m not going to bite.” He says as he pulls Oscar down onto the couch, forcing Oscar to sit a little closer than he would have otherwise.
What Oscar zeros in on is the lingering connection between them. Lando does not let go of his hand. Oscar opens his hand just to test that he’s not carrying the weight of this and yup. Sure enough, Lando is gripping his hand like a vice.
Interesting….
Seeing as Mr. teammate/crush/rival is currently very focused on scrolling through movie options on the tv. Oscar lets his hand curl back around Lando’s, giving a little squeeze that he didn’t totally mean to do but he can’t say he is mad at his unconscious for sneaking in.
Lando settles on Rio after a while, a great choice if Oscar had a say(which he doesn’t). As the opening song plays, Lando opens his phone with his free hand and pulls up DoorDash.
“Is pizza fine, Osc?” He asks, turning his head to the younger who had yet to fully relax into the cushions. He was kind of in that in between where he was not quite sitting just on the edge of the couch with impeccable posture, but not sunken into the cushions like he lived there. He looks a little silly in an awkward, cute way that Lando just had to comment on.
“Osc, you know you can lean back? Like relax into the sofa, it’s just me. No need to be so nervous.” He laughs softly as Oscar stared at him. A little flush spread on Oscar’s ears and he leans back onto the cushion, his shoulders visibly relaxing, but only slightly.
“Yeah, pizza is fine. Just don’t tell anyone.” Oscar smirks a little as Lando grins.
“Of course, Osc, it’ll be our little secret.” He whispers, leaning in close to which Oscar froze and flares at the same time. The tone of Lando’s words has him worked up, but his nonchalant exterior is working in overdrive to not give himself away. The nickname was so sickeningly present, Oscar’s insides are molten puddy, and the whisper, oh the whisper, just suggests thoughts and scenarios that have continuously plagued his dreams ever since he joined McLaren. Lando, you have no idea what you are doing!
Or do you?
~~~~~~~~~
Lando loved having a younger teammate. From the beginning he knew he would like it. Having been the younger of two other pairings, he knew the switch up would be oh so welcome. He just didn’t know he’d like being Oscar’s teammate so much.
Yeah, with anyone else he would’ve assumed his “older teammate” role and would’ve gotten along with just about anyone, but with Oscar it just fit. Lando wasn’t exactly the uber mature role model he thought he was going to be to Oscar, but the bromance that had formed was utterly perfect in his opinion.
Lando had always wondered why they meshed so well. Why did they seem so comfortable with each other right from the get go? Was it simply because of their shared experiences? Or did they share something more raw and powerful deep down?
One thing Lando loved most about their pairing was the time before the races. He had learned that Oscar tended to psych himself out before getting into the car and had adapted to help his teammate through his thoughts. That was the one true time where he felt older, more experienced. Like he could answer any and all questions Oscar had. Like he alone could protect his teammate and support him during the race day.
Lando loved it. Sure he can recognize that they are rivals first and foremost, but off track, the teammate thing has always been the priority. He loved to just be there for Oscar. Whether it’s helping before a race, or hugging him afterward. He loved being there alongside Oscar in any fashion. It makes him feel like the best version of himself, a perfect teammate.
So, when Oscar shut down after the British Grand Prix, it put Lando in a frenzy. Yeah, he’d just won his home race. He was absolutely elated, but he found that it had been tinged with a bittersweet aftertaste. He could feel the frustration seeping off of Oscar, and to be honest, he couldn’t blame his teammate one bit.
He didn’t blame Oscar for half-heartedly brushing off the post race interview. He definitely didn’t blame Oscar for barely finding a smile on the podium, having been there before himself. And so that’s why he ran after Oscar when the media was done. That was why he called the nickname he’d lovingly bestowed upon his younger teammate down the hall. He wanted to be Oscar’s comfort, his beacon. He tried all he could to get Oscar to open up. He didn’t give a crap about celebrating with the team if his teammate was alone with his damaging thoughts.
So he sat and waited. He waited for Oscar to come out of his room and finally give up on this self-isolation so they could properly celebrate their 1-2 even if it left a sour taste in their mouths.
At some point he must’ve fallen asleep because when he woke up he was in Oscar’s car, watching as the younger walked around to the other side. Huh? How did he get here? Did Oscar.. carry him?
Oh, dear god. That had him blushing like a mad man. He was also a little pouty that he didn’t get to experience it first hand. When Oscar opened the driver's side door, Lando contemplated “waking up” but he ultimately decided against it. He was overly curious as to what Oscar would do to get him into his apartment. Would he carry him again? God, Lando hoped so.
Lando tried to stay still throughout the drive opting to just lean his head back and keep his eyes closed. He felt it as Oscar turned into the parking garage and tried to keep his heart rate in check as Oscar came to his passenger side door after parking.
He heard the door open and felt two arms shuffle beneath him, both strong and secure as they lifted him up princess style to a solid warm chest.
His ears flamed as he tried to fight to urge he suddenly had to snuggle up against it. What was happening to him? Why did he feel so comfy? He kind of loved it. Was that bad?
Lando tried his best to “sleep” as he was carried from the elevator to his door. He had to put in work to not fully cling to Oscar when he worked the key into the lock. He tensed as he anticipated the drop, but it didn't come. Oscar clutched Lando tighter as he pushed the door open and shuffled off his shoes. Lando relaxed again, hoping that his reaction didn't give him away. Oscar placed Lando on the bed gently and stretched up. Lando took the opportunity of the dark room to open his eyes. He saw Oscar standing there awkwardly trying to access the situation. As Oscar turned to leave, he sat up and made his consciousness known.
~~~~~~~~~~
And so now here they are on the couch. The pizza is ordered. The movie plays quietly in the background. And Lando clutches Oscar’s hand with unwavering force. He doesn’t know why but he needs to feel some piece of the closeness he felt when he was being carried. He needs to be attached to Oscar in some way and he figures aggressive hand holding was the least weird way to do it.
As they sit in comfortable silence, Lando’s eyes glide over to Oscar. He takes in his side profile, the way his hair falls softly over his forehead in that princely swoop, appreciating all the soft lines of his face and the little moles that dot his cheek and neck. As if sensing Lando’s gaze, Oscar stares back, and in the light of the tv, his soft, hesitant smile is in full glow. It makes Lando's stomach erupt in butterflies.
Holy crap.
Osc is beautiful.
Not that he didn’t already know that. He knows Oscar is very attractive. His teammate has plenty of fans that post reminders of that daily, but right now, Lando fully gets it in the most not bromance, teammate, way.
Oh, shit. Well, that is certainly a new development. It’s one that Lando finds he’s not even a little upset about.
As a montage of suave ways to confess to Oscar runs rampant in his mind, Lando tries to act as normal as possible. This is still just Oscar. That hasn’t changed. But now he’s more than a teammate. More than a rival too. A lot more, Lando would argue. Oh, god his hands are starting to sweat. Red alert!
He is relieved to hear the door bell ring, quickly standing, unlocking their fingers, and walking to the door. He takes this moment to breathe regularly as he realizes he hasn’t been breathing at all for a past several minutes. As he takes the pizza from the delivery guy and turns back to the sofa, his heart rate picks up.
“Hey, Osc? Do you know why I really wanted to hang out with you tonight?” He asks suddenly before he could stop himself.
Oscar turns to face him, one arm resting along the back of the couch, his face scrunched in slight confusion.
“Uhh, no why?” He answers, eyes following Lando as he makes his way back to the couch and places the pizza box on the coffee table.
“Well, I don’t know how to explain it but.. I think I just need to see you ok. I need to see you comfortable, and happy, just… the opposite of what you were earlier.”
“Oh, that’s sweet Lando, you truly are a good teammate—“
“No, Oscar I need to see you happy but I also need that happiness to be because of me. At least some of it. I thought it was just me being an older teammate, a sort of mentor to you that I needed to be the one that gets you smiling and laughing, but I don’t think that’s the case. I think I care for you more deeply than a professional relationship like that.” Lando spits out quicker than his fastest quali lap.
“Yeah, Lando I get that. I think us being friends is what makes us better. Being able to rely on eachother off track and count on eachother to push on track it’s what makes us great.” Oscar says shifting slightly in his seat as Lando huffs.
“Oscar, I think I’m in love with you.”
The silence is so loud.
The pair sits in the weight of it for what felt like a lifetime. Lando begins to fold in on himself, the doubt seeping in as the emptiness between them stretches on.
He can’t bring himself to look at Oscar. He doesn’t want to see the rejection or possibly disgust on his face. Lando can’t handle that. But, as his mind spirals he feels a soft touch on the top of his hand.
It has him jolting and looking up without thinking. His eyes meet a bright red Oscar who has a soft smile on his face that reaches his eyes in the most beautiful way.
“Do you really mean that?” Oscar asks, his voice barely a whisper in the dark room.
“Yeah, probably more than I know.” Lando replies, taking Oscar’s hand just like before.
Oscar just smiles wider as he clutches Lando’s hand firmly.
“That’s good because I’ve loved you for so long, it was getting embarrassing.” He says turning toward the tv.
“Oh, really?” Lando asks, glancing at the tv but going back to stare at Oscar again.
“Yeah, but I’m glad the wait is over.”
And that’s how the night ended. The two teammates, now something more, holding hands and watching Rio. Just being there for each other.
Sounds like the perfect way to celebrate a 1-2.