Work Text:
The race weekend had ended, but the paddock still smelled faintly of fuel and rain. Everyone else had long gone — engineers wrapping cables, mechanics packing up equipment — but the quiet in the Prema motorhome was heavier than usual.
Kimi sat on the couch, still in his race suit with his sleeves tied around his waist. His hair was a mess, his expression blank in the tired way only rookies looked after giving everything they had. The TV in front of him was on mute, flashing post-race highlights he didn’t seem to be watching.
The door clicked open, and Oscar slipped inside, holding two bottles of water and a packet of biscuits.
“Hey, kid.”
Kimi turned slowly, eyes a little unfocused. “Oh. Hey, Oscar.”
Oscar smiled — small, easy. “You look wrecked.”
“Yeah,” Kimi murmured, rubbing at his eyes. “Wasn’t… good today.”
Oscar sat beside him, cracking open a water bottle before handing it over. “Mm, it wasn’t your best, sure. But bad races happen. You’re still learning. I had plenty of those my first season too.”
Kimi frowned. “You didn’t look like you did.”
“Yeah, because I edited out all the parts where I spun like a washing machine,” Oscar said dryly, and Kimi couldn’t help a small, tired laugh.
It was quiet for a moment after that, the soft hum of the TV filling the space between them.
“You pushed hard,” Oscar added eventually, tone softer now. “That’s what matters. You’ll figure the rest out.”
Kimi just nodded, but his head was drooping slightly, eyes blinking slower and slower. Oscar noticed. He reached over, gently nudging Kimi’s shoulder. “Hey. You’re about to pass out sitting up.”
Kimi mumbled, “M’fine…”
“Sure you are,” Oscar teased lightly. “You look like you’re buffering.”
That earned another small laugh — then a quiet sigh as Kimi leaned sideways, his head landing against Oscar’s shoulder.
“See?” Oscar chuckled, shifting slightly so Kimi wouldn’t slip. “Told you.”
Kimi didn’t answer. He just stayed there, small and warm, fingers loosely clutching at Oscar’s sleeve like he didn’t want to move.
“Comfortable?”
A tiny nod.
Oscar smiled to himself, reaching behind them for the blanket draped over the couch. He tugged it gently over Kimi, careful not to wake him too much.
“There,” he murmured. “Now you can drool on my shirt in peace.”
Kimi made a sleepy noise that was probably a protest, but his voice came out so slurred that Oscar laughed quietly. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’re not drooling. Just resting your eyes, right?”
“Mhm…”
“Uh-huh. Sure thing, champ.”
The silence after that was warm. Outside, the rain had started again, soft against the windows. Oscar leaned back, one arm resting along the couch behind Kimi in a lazy half-hug.
Kimi’s breathing evened out, slow and calm.
Oscar looked down at him — the youngest in the paddock, the one who tried so hard every session, who took every mistake to heart. And now, finally, at rest.
He reached over, gently brushing a bit of hair away from Kimi’s forehead. “You did good, kid,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “Really good.”
Kimi shifted slightly but didn’t wake, just nuzzled closer, hand still curled loosely around Oscar’s sleeve.
Oscar smiled, quiet and full of pride. “Guess I’m stuck here, huh.”
And honestly — he didn’t mind one