Work Text:
The paddock was louder than Lando remembered. It was the soundtrack of his life, but after a couple months away, it hit him like a punch to the chest. He pulled his cap lower, hoping no one noticed the way his hand was trembling.
Beside him, Oscar walked close, steady as always. He didn’t say much but the subtle brush of his arm against Lando’s every few steps was grounding. Lando forced a smile for a passing cameraman, though his stomach twisted. He’d missed three races since the crash. Two long months of hospital beds, physical therapy and endless “are you okays?”. He thought he was ready for this.
“You’re doing fine.” Oscar murmured, low enough that only Lando could hear.
Lando glanced at him, managing the faintest twitch of a smile. “Am I?”
As they turned down the main walkway, team members offered smiles and greetings. Lando forced himself to return them, even as his pulse climbed higher. Each step deeper into the paddock felt like a countdown, dragging him closer to the place where it had all gone wrong.
Oscar reached for his wrist briefly, a touch so quick no one else would notice. “We’ll take it slow.” He said.
Lando nodded, swallowing hard. He wasn’t sure if he was convincing Oscar or himself.
It all goes to shit at the start of FP1.
He lowered himself into the seat, fingers fumbling slightly as he pulled the belts over his shoulders. They clicked into place tight across his chest, and suddenly his heart lurched into overdrive. His breath stuttered.
And just like that, he wasn’t in the garage anymore.
The sides of the car pressed closer, the air too thin, the echo of tires screaming filled his ears. Sparks burst behind his eyes, the crunch of carbon on concrete rattled through his skull. He was crashing again. Trapped. Unable to move.
Lando’s hands clawed at the wheel, desperate to rip himself free. His breaths came in shallow gasps.
Somewhere distant, he heard Jon calling his name. Then another voice. One that cut through the chaos.
Oscar.
“Lando. Look at me.” A gloved hand pressed firm against his arm, grounding. “You’re in the garage. You’re safe. Breathe.”
But Lando couldn’t. He squeezed his eyes shut. His throat closed, a sob breaking loose before he could stop it.
“Osc—” His voice cracked, helpless. “I can’t—”
“You can,” Oscar cut in, sharper this time, the edge of command slipping into his voice. “Open your eyes. Right now. Look at me.”
Lando forced them open. Through the haze, Oscar’s face came into focus. Dark eyes locked on his, expression. No pity. No fear. Just certainty.
“There you are.” Oscar murmured, softer now. His hand slid lower, covering Lando’s trembling one on the wheel. “Breathe with me. In… out.”
Lando’s chest still spasmed, but Oscar exaggerated his own breaths, slow and deliberate, until Lando’s body tried to follow on instinct.
“In… out. That’s it.”
The roaring in Lando’s ears began to quieten, replaced by the steadier rhythm of Oscar’s breathing.
“You’re here.” Oscar repeated. “Not there. Just here, with me.”
A shudder ripped through Lando, and then he slumped forward, shaking, tears streaking hot and fast down his cheeks. But the panic was loosening its grip, leaving exhaustion in its place.
Oscar didn’t let go of his hand. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Hands were on the car now, unclipping belts, easing Lando up. He swayed as soon as the weight lifted, legs refusing to hold him. Oscar caught him instantly, one arm firm around his back, the other still gripping his hand.
The garage was buzzing with movement, as crew members from both sides gathered around the car. Someone touched Oscar’s shoulder.
“You need to get in your car, mate. Session’s started. We’ll take care of him.”
Oscar didn’t move. His jaw tightened as he adjusted his hold on Lando, who sagged against him, too pale, too quiet.
“No.” Oscar said flatly. “I’m not leaving him.”
The engineer frowned. “Oscar, you’ll miss FP1. We can handle Norris. Medical’s already on the way.”
Oscar’s eyes snapped up, “He’s not just another driver to ‘handle.’ He’s—” He stopped himself, jaw working, then lowered his voice. “He’s mine to take care of.”
Lando stirred weakly against his chest, muttering something that didn’t quite make sense. Oscar tightened his grip, steadying him.
“I’ll miss the session if I have to.” Oscar said, tone leaving no room for argument. “Lando comes first.”
There was a beat of silence. The team exchanged uneasy glances, but no one tried again to pull him away.
Oscar bent close to Lando’s ear, whispering so only he could hear. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” And with Lando leaning heavily against him, Oscar turned his back on the waiting car and walked with him toward the medical bay.
———
The hotel room was dim, curtains drawn against the city lights. Lando dropped heavily onto the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping. He still felt wrung out, pale around the edges, though the doctors had reassured them both: nothing physical, just a panic attack. Just.
Oscar set his bag aside and crouched in front of him, searching his face. “You’re sure you’re alright?”
Lando huffed out a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Define alright.”
Oscar’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t push. Instead, he rested a hand on Lando’s knee, solid and steady.
“It felt so real.” Lando admitted after a moment.“ Like I was back in the crash…and I couldn’t get out. I…” His throat tightened. “I thought I’d never breathe again.”
Oscar’s thumb brushed lightly against the fabric of his joggers. “But you did.”
“Because of you.” Lando’s eyes finally lifted to meet his. “If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know…”
“You don’t need to finish that,” Oscar cut in gently. “Because I was there. And I always will be.”
Lando’s lips curved into the faintest smile, trembling at the edges. “You make it sound so simple.”
Oscar tilted his head. “It is.”
That earned him a soft laugh, muffled into the crook of his shoulder as Lando leaned forward, resting his forehead against him. Oscar didn’t move, just wrapped an arm around him and held him steady.