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Oscar had felt it build up over the weekend. A particularly nasty practice on Friday had left him sore— it wasn't anything new; he was used to the aches and pains of driving. He could tell that when he had hit something a little too hard and the car had felt a tiny smidge off. Nothing big or major, just the smallest difference, so small that it didn't need addressing. Not really. Though Oscar felt it. The jolt through his bones that he knew would be a personal problem later on.
With being a driver, there were things they could do to help minimise any pain brought on by issues like porpoising. Physio, making sure to stretch your muscles thoroughly and properly, a handful of creams and medicines that could help.
With how fast and crammed a race weekend was, he didn't have time to focus on the slight twinge in his lower back. It wasn't anything serious— the sensation wasn't foreign to him. Most of the time, he didn't notice it; it was only when he slowed down. He'd stop for the post-race interview after qualifying and have to hide a wince as he realised how tight his back had gotten. Or when he was sat in the debrief and he noticed, truly, how uncomfortable their office chairs were. Plastic dug into him and the seats had most definitely not provided enough spine support. Maybe he should mention it; he was sure Lando would back him on that one.
Once in their hotel room, they both got ready for bed. Oscar was usually first to fall asleep, easily letting the dreams take him. Though he was left occasionally tossing and turning in hopes of alleviating the pressure in his back muscles.
"Osc?" Lando reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Oscar was currently looking away from him; the curled-up position he was trying had been sort of alright for his sore form. "Everything good?"
"Just back pains, you know how it is." Because Lando did know how it felt. All the drivers did. Some days were smooth sailing where the worst you'd feel after a race was the buzzing exhaustion under your skin. And others left you hot and uncomfortably breathless, skin pulled taut as unwelcomed pains wormed their way through you.
"Alright, let me know if you need anything," Lando mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. Oscar didn't think there was much that could be done right now. His trainer had given him some meds to take, given him enough water that it almost felt comically too much, and ordered him to rest well. It was all he could do, so he left Lando to fall asleep effortlessly and after a while, he eventually fell asleep too.
Race day came and went. When in the car, he never fully registered the pains. He would be going too fast to think about it. Sure, on the odd occasion he would feel something and think, yeah, that's gonna hurt, or the car would bounce, jump slightly, and he'd grimace knowing he would feel it in a few hours. But whilst in the car, his mind and soul were focused on the race. He'd pulled past the finish line first, another one to add to the growing list, with Lando a close second. Even when he got out of the car, he couldn't feel the results of his hard work attacking his body just yet. Adrenaline and excitement coursed through him; he was running off the high of another win.
He went through the interviews, the cooldown room, and the debriefs. He stood proud on the podium and was splashed with champagne until he was drenched in glory. Eventually, the paddock had thinned and he had managed to sneak back to the motorhome to shower and clean up. As he slipped into casual clothes, that was when it hit— the tightness in his lower back spasming hard as he bent over to put on his trainers. He groaned, having to straighten himself up slowly; he had to be careful with his movements. He rummaged through his bag, sighing frustratedly when he did not find any pain relief.
He was left to sling his bag over his shoulder and hobble out of the room. Lando was waiting for him, also in fresh clothes, his bag hung from his hands. He glanced over to Oscar, up and down, and smirked, "Your back still hurt?"
Oscar nodded, took a step, and the noise he made wasn't quite a whimper but it was pathetically close to one.
Lando's smile dropped instantly and then he was next to Oscar, "Oh baby," his voice was soft, caring, it was everything Oscar loved about him. "Let me take care of you, okay?"
"I don't know why it's so bad," he gritted out.
"Sometimes it just is. We all have bad back days."
Lando led them through the motorhome and out the back, heading towards the car Lando had driven both of them there in. Oscar was always offering to drive but Lando was a terrible passenger. He'd always clutch the door and act like he was going to die as they went round a 'too-fast' corner. It was hilarious that an F1 driver hated to be in the passenger of a normal car but Oscar wouldn't complain. It meant he got free lifts everywhere.
He was gently lowered into the car. He rested against the seat and closed his eyes.
"I assume you don't want to go out and celebrate your win then?" Lando prompted.
"Fuck no," that caused his teammate to chuckle. "Besides, I'd rather spend the night with you anyway. That's enough of a prize for winning."
"You sap," Lando teased as he turned the car on. The engine purred as they pulled out, driving back to their hotel.
Back in the room, their shoes off at the door and bags dumped in a corner, Lando turned to Oscar and ordered, "Okay, clothes off and on the bed."
"Damn, that's forward, sweetheart. Besides, with my back, do you really think it would be best—"
"No, you idiot," Lando laughed, "you know I didn't mean it like that!"
Oscar eyed him, a teasing glint to his look.
"Fine, let me correct myself," Lando continued, "take your top off, I've got something for you."
Oscar did as told, lying face-first onto the bed. He propped a pillow on top of his folded arms so he could rest his head on it. He watched, cheek pressed into the softness, as Lando rustled through his suitcase and eventually made a pleased ahah! sound as he pulled out a slim, crinkled tube.
"This," he proudly showed off the bottle before flicking the cap open, "is for muscular pain. Got it when I was getting bad muscle strains in my calf and it's been handy to just keep in my bag in case I ever need it." He then squeezed some of the tacky goop onto his fingers, rubbing it slightly to warm it up. "I'm going to give you a back massage with some of this. It should fix you up nicely. Sound good?"
"Yeah," he responded, muffled.
Lando knelt down on the bed beside Oscar, "Let me know if anything hurts too much and I'll stop, okay?"
Oscar nodded and relaxed into the bed as Lando placed his hands on Oscar's lower back, working the rub into his skin. The immediate touch hurt, his muscles tensing at the sudden contact but soon enough he softened. He allowed himself to be moulded by Lando, feeling the way his fingers worked into the knots and carefully untied each one.
Lando hit a particularly tough spot, using his knuckles to work it out and Oscar made an embarrassing noise, the moan drowned into the pillow. Lando snorted, amused, but didn't say anything as he continued to rub Oscar's back. His thumbs worked in rhythmic circles. Then he splayed out his fingers and used the heels of his palms to make sure every last part of the cream had been absorbed. He expanded his reach, ran up and down Oscar's spine and then pressed into his shoulders. Oscar was being unwound, he was clumped thread being untangled by Lando's nimble fingers.
There was one last deep press into his lower back, knuckles knocked into his sides briefly and then a final sweep across his skin. Lando slid off the bed, leant over, and pressed a kiss onto the back of Oscar's head before mumbling, "How was that, baby?"
"Godly," Oscar muttered back, flipping himself over to look directly into Lando's eyes. "Why have you never told me that you are also a masseur?"
"I am a man of many talents. I like to keep you on your toes by keeping secrets up my sleeve." He grinned.
"Well, I know who I'm going to if I ever need my muscles relaxing again."
"Why'd you make it sound so dirty?"
He levelled Lando with a flat look, "Who was the one asking me to strip and get on the bed earlier?"
"Hey! You know what— look, let me go wash my hands and then we can order room service and put some shitty reality show on the TV, how does that sound?"
"Sounds like the perfect way to end a perfect day."
"I've said it once and I'll say it again, you're such a sap sometimes, Osc."
"You love it really, don't act like you don't."
Lando grinned. It was perfectly crooked, just the way Oscar liked it. "Right, grab the menu, I'll be two seconds."
Oscar slipped back into a comfy t-shirt, took the menu from the TV stand and looked through their options.
The evening passed. Plates, now empty, were stacked to the side. The TV was playing the newest episode of a dating show that Lando and Oscar had been watching. It initially was put on as a joke; they had wanted something unserious after a tough day of qualifying for both of them. Something they could unwind to and laugh at but suddenly Lando was a little too invested and Oscar needed to know who the girl was going to pick out of the two new options she had been given. So, maybe they were a little bit more obsessed than they let on.
The show continued to play, Lando laughed at a particularly bad joke that the host spat out. It had been so stupid it was almost good. Oscar snuggled further into Lando's side. The pain had been forgotten as Lando absentmindedly traced his hand up and down Oscar's back and Oscar placed a kiss on the corner of Lando's jaw, feeling the skin move under his lips as his boyfriend smiled.