Chapter Text
Bullshit repeats itself
Is that how the saying goes ?
“We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night” by Sabrina Carpenter
Australia
His pulse was still thrumming with adrenaline. First race of the season and he won. A very welcomed omen for the rest of the season, but it wasn't achieved without its hiccups... Lando scrolled aimlessly through his congratulatory messages, closed the app, opened a different one, closed that one and repeated. Squinting his eyes at the flash of white light, he decided that that was enough blue light for the evening. Clicking off his phone he reached for the TV remote, the less evil cousin for media consumption… or that's what he told himself anyway. He stretched lazily looking at the ticking clock on the wall, paused, and looked down at his sponsored Richard Mille watch. Almost 11 and-
The hotel door chimed and the doorknob turned leading the door to slowly creak open. Lando gently placed the remote on the finely polished wood beside as he looked toward the doorway.
“Oscar?” he said tentatively.
Rustling and a deep breath was all he got back as a reply, leading him to assume he was correct. Lando yawned and shuffled to a sitting up position against their shared headboard. He picked up his phone again, not to do anything with it, just as a soothing action. He clenched his fingers around it and brought it to his lap before setting it beside him.
“How are your parents?” he asked, which he regretted immediately. His voice was an obtrusive sound in the settling tension that seemed to permeate the room like mist. No response, except for more shuffling and the clicking of the light switch in their joint bathroom, running of water, and the muffled sounds of teeth brushing. Lando bit his bottom lip and rested his head back against the cushioned backing, looking up at the ceiling, pensively debating if he wanted to further this flailing conversation.
“Mate, I’m concerned that a crazy fan just broke into my hotel room to use my teammate’s tooth brush like a freak,” Lando tried again, rolling his head to the direction of the bathroom. The teeth brushing stopped and the faucet sound trickled off slowly. Knowing Oscar, he imagined that it was followed by another sigh that was muted by the half closed door. Leaving the bathroom, Oscar stopped at the corner and leaned against the wall crossing his arms. His hair was mussed and his usual easy smile was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a tired slack expression and—ah yes, there it was—the deep exhale he had missed earlier. Lando did a once over of his disheveled state and subtly tilted his head in a ‘come over here’ motion. Oscar released his arms from their crossed position and slowly lifted himself from against the wall, like the movement exhausted him. He made his way over and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. His hand grazed Lando’s jaw before gently cupping it.
“You okay?” Lando questioned quietly. Oscar’s face gave nothing away. His expression was unreadable in the dark, illuminated by the warm glow of the hotel lamps on either side of their shared bed. Oscar’s hand dropped from his jaw and turned his back to Lando, running a hand through his hair, his expression hidden.
Lando shuffled almost indiscriminately from his laid out position.
Oscar tensed and stood abruptly. ”Don't. Don’t do that,” he muttered tersely. He made his way to the suitcase that was left haphazardly open on the opposite side of the room.
“Oscar… I mean- what do you want me to say?” Exasperated, Lando gestured with his hands.
Hunched over at his suitcase, Oscar ignored him. Again.
“You don't seriously expect me to apologize, do you?”
“No. Of course not, I would never expect you to apologize for winning. That's childish,” the Australian clarified, briefly looking in Lando’s direction. He continued riffling through the unfolded clothes in his bag, pulling out a McLaren team shirt and a pair of basic black shorts.
Lando was silent while Oscar made his way back to the adjoined bathroom. “Oh. That's how it's gonna be tonight?” He scoffed and picked up his phone from where he had lain it on the bedding. Shaking his head slightly, and placing it on the bedside table to his right. The other man emerged once again from the tiled room, still silent, as he crossed over to the left side of the bed.
“Oscar. Come on, talk to me,” Lando implored, turning to face the brown haired man, trying to catch his gaze.
Oscar pulled at the covers restlessly and briefly met his eyes. The strained muscles in his shoulders relaxed haphazardly as he laid down,“I slid, which led to my car shitting itself. Saw you slide too, but catch it, then got fucking beached at my home race. Had to watch everyone sail past and ended up ninth, so excuse me if I’m not in the mood to have a cheeky race debrief with my teammate who won the damn thing, Lando,” he finally spoke through clenched teeth, “First race of the season, home race where someone from my country hasn't had a podium ever, and what happens? Actually the worst possible outcome imaginable…” he trailed off, scoffing at his own annoyance and slipped under the covers, reached up to turn off the gentle glow of the bedside lamp, then turned to face the wall.
Silence followed. Oscar could hear Lando doing the same, turning off his light and making himself comfortable under the sheets when- “Could’ve been worse… might've taken us both out and Max would've won instead of your favourite lover slash teammate. Now that would’ve been the quote, ‘worst possible outcome imaginable’.”
Oscar, surprised, jerked his body to face Lando and was met with a smug, badly hidden smirk as the curly haired man pretended to have fallen asleep. Oscar snorted despite himself, shoving Lando’s shoulder gently, “Asshole.”
Lando slowly opened his eyes. His gaze softened when he met the tiredness of the deep brown eyes across from him, “First race of the season, Osc, I know for a fact you’ll have more opportunities.”
Oscar shuffled closer, bringing an arm up allowing the Brit to move his head to be resting on the other man's shoulder leading his wiry hair to tickle the Australian's jaw. Oscar gently ran a hand through the man’s hair, taking care not to catch any of the tangles too harshly. The warmth of the motion placated Oscar’s previous frustrations, albeit not completely, as he listened to Lando’s subtle short breaths, as they both gradually fell into a much needed slumber.