Work Text:
“Osc!” Daniel called from across the room. “Did you hear we’re getting a new social media manager? I reckon the last one finally got sick of us.”
Oscar didn’t look up from where he was scrolling through something on his phone. “Can’t blame them,” he muttered. “I still think filming this much content is a waste of time. I signed up to be a driver, not a TikTok star.”
Daniel grinned, entirely unbothered. “Speak for yourself, mate. I’ve always known I was destined for fame beyond Formula One. This is just the beginning.”
They were similar in a lot of ways with both being Australian and ridiculously competitive. But personality wise, they could not have been more different. Daniel was effortlessly charming. He could turn on a camera smile like flipping a switch. Oscar, on the other hand, felt painfully aware of every movement when a lens was pointed at him.
The truth was, he did not actually hate filming content. He just hated how unnatural he felt doing it. Daniel made it look easy. Oscar felt like he was pretending to be someone else.
The door opened, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Andrea stepped inside, looking far too pleased with himself. “Boys,” he said, gesturing to the person behind him, “let me introduce you to our newest team member. This is Lando.”
Lando looked to be around their age, maybe mid-twenties, with soft curls and a smile that made something in Oscar’s chest tighten unexpectedly. His eyes were bright and warm, and Oscar found himself unable to look away.
“I’m super excited to be working with you both,” Lando said, his voice easy and genuine.
Oscar’s throat went dry. He told himself to say something normal. Anything. Instead, he just stood there, staring like an idiot.
Daniel, of course, had no such problem. He stepped forward immediately, hand outstretched and grin wide. “Welcome to the chaos, mate.”
And Oscar was still frozen, wondering why the new social media manager had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
Lando did not seem bothered in the slightest by Oscar’s complete failure to act like a normal human being. If he noticed the staring, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he slipped smoothly into professional mode.
“So,” Lando began, clasping his hands together, “TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube are going to be our main focus this month. Short form content performs best according to latest research. People love funny, chaotic clips. But YouTube is where we get stronger ad revenue, so we need to do some longer form content too.”
Daniel nodded along enthusiastically while Oscar just continued to stare like an idiot.
Lando continued, still undisturbed. “Obviously the upcoming Australian GP is a big deal for you both, so I want to make sure we start the year off strong with engagement from fans. I was thinking we could start simple with answering fan questions on YouTube.”
He glanced between them, smiling slightly. “Then we can pull the best moments from that and turn them into short clips for TikTok and Instagram. That way we maximise content without making you film a million extra things.”
Oscar couldn’t help the look of surprise on his face. He had expected someone pushy who would demand constant filming. Instead, Lando sounded thoughtful, strategic and considerate of their busy schedules.
Daniel looked back at Oscar. “See, Osc? This guy gets it.”
Oscar finally managed to clear his throat. “Yeah. That actually sounds… good.”
He meant it. The plan was smart. Manageable. It did not feel like another obligation stacked onto an already packed schedule. For the first time since hearing the words social media, he did not feel immediate dread.
And annoyingly, he realised that might have less to do with the plan and more to do with the person explaining it.
This year might not be so bad after all.
Oscar and Daniel sat side by side in oversized orange plush chairs, a glass bowl filled with folded strips of paper balanced on the small table between them. Each strip held a question sent in by fans. Lando had explained earlier that he asked for submissions on the McLaren Instagram account and hand-picked the best ones himself.
“If anything makes you uncomfortable, just say the word and we’ll cut it.” Lando had told them while adjusting the camera. It was such a simple thing to say, but it settled something in Oscar’s chest. He felt safe. Which was ridiculous, considering this was just a YouTube video. Still, it mattered.
Lando stepped back behind the camera and lifted his hand. “Okay. And action.”
Daniel immediately switched into presenter mode. “Hello everyone, welcome back to the McLaren channel,” he began, flashing that effortless grin. “Today we’re answering your questions. So, if this goes badly, it’s technically your fault.”
Oscar huffed a quiet laugh.
Daniel reached into the bowl and unfolded the first slip of paper. “Alright. If you could only win one race this year, which one would it be?”
He did not hesitate. “Australia. I mean, come on. It’s our home race. The crowd, the atmosphere, everything about it. If I could sneak in a second, I’d say Monaco.”
Oscar nodded. It was the obvious answer. Maybe too obvious. “Yeah, Melbourne would be special for me too,” he said. “I grew up so close to the track. It’d mean a lot.”
Daniel tilted his head toward him. “Second choice?”
Oscar paused, thinking. “Maybe Spa. It’s my favourite track. Or Silverstone, actually. I spent most of my teenage years in the UK, so a lot of my old school friends could come to that one.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt that familiar flicker of self consciousness. Was that too boring? Was he rambling? He glanced off camera without meaning to.
Lando was standing there, arms folded loosely, watching him with a soft smile. When he noticed Oscar’s hesitation, he gave him a subtle thumbs up.
Oscar felt his shoulders relax. He forgot about where to put his hands. Forgot about the lens pointed at his face. The next question came, then another, and somewhere along the way he stopped overthinking.
“Alright, next one,” Daniel said, already laughing before he had even read it.
By the end of filming, Oscar’s cheeks ached from smiling. He had not expected that. Usually, these things drained him. Today, he felt lighter.
With Lando’s quiet encouragement behind the camera, Oscar found himself teasing Daniel more, interrupting with jokes, letting his sarcasm slip through instead of holding it back. Daniel looked mildly stunned at first but quickly adjusted, matching his energy with ease.
They bounced off each other effortlessly. When Lando finally called, “And that’s a wrap,” Oscar almost wished they had more questions left in the bowl.
Daniel stretched his arms above his head. “See? Told you we’re naturals.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. He could feel it lingering on his face as he stood up, brushing imaginary lint from his race suit just to have something to do with his hands.
Lando stepped out from behind the camera, already glancing down at the footage on the small monitor. “That was actually really good,” he said. “The banter felt natural.”
Daniel pointed at Oscar. “That’s all him. He’s been hiding a personality this whole time.”
Oscar scoffed. “Shut up.”
But his attention drifted back to Lando. The way he was focused on the screen, lower lip caught between his teeth as he scrubbed through the video. The faint crease between his eyebrows when he concentrated. The quiet smile that appeared when he landed on a clip he liked. It was distracting.
“Come look at this,” Lando said, glancing up. His eyes landed on Oscar first.
Daniel wandered over immediately, leaning far too close to the monitor. Oscar followed a second later, trying to appear normal about it. The three of them huddled around the small screen, shoulders nearly touching.
Lando pressed play on a clip where Oscar had deadpanned a sarcastic response to one of Daniel’s dramatic answers. On camera, Daniel was laughing loudly while Oscar tried and failed to hide his own grin.
“That’s such a good moment,” Lando said softly. “You don’t even realise you’re smiling.”
Oscar blinked. “What?”
“Here,” Lando murmured, rewinding it. “Right there.”
He paused the frame. It was subtle, but it was there. Oscar’s usual guarded expression had slipped. He looked relaxed.
Oscar felt warmth crawl up his neck. “I don’t always look miserable, you know.”
“I didn’t say you did,” Lando replied quickly, and there was something gentle in his tone. “Just… this is different. It’s good different.”
For a second, neither of them looked away.
Daniel cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, I hate to interrupt whatever this is, but I’m starving. Are we done being media personalities for the day?”
The moment broke. Oscar stepped back, grateful, and strangely disappointed all at once.
“Yeah, we’re done,” Lando said, blinking like he was pulling himself back to reality. “I’ll edit this tonight and send you both a preview before it goes live.”
Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. “Legend. You’re already my favourite employee.” Daniel headed toward the door, already talking about food. Oscar lingered.
“Hey,” Lando said quietly.
Oscar turned back. “Yeah?”
“You were great today. I know you said you’re not into all this PR stuff, but you don’t have to try that hard. Just be yourself.”
Oscar swallowed. “I wasn’t trying.”
Lando smiled at that. Not teasing. Just warm. “Exactly.”
There was a pause that stretched a little longer than it should have. Close enough that Oscar could notice the faint scent of Lando’s chocolatey cologne. Close enough that he had to consciously stop himself from stepping any nearer.
“Well,” Oscar said, clearing his throat. “Good work today.”
“Thanks,” Lando replied. “Good driving too. Earlier in the sim.”
Oscar felt his heart kick unexpectedly at the fact that Lando had been watching that as well.
“See you tomorrow?” Lando asked.
“Yeah,” Oscar said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Tomorrow.”
He walked out of the room trying to convince himself that the strange flutter in his chest was just adrenaline from filming.
Behind him, Lando stared down at the paused frame on the monitor for a moment longer than necessary, a small, private smile tugging at his lips before he finally shut everything off.
The Australian Grand Prix weekend felt like a complete blur. The air at Albert Park Circuit was electric. For Oscar and Daniel, it was home. For Lando, it was his first time experiencing it from inside the garage rather than through a screen.
The paddock was chaos with fans pressed against barriers, waving flags and homemade signs. Lando stood just off to the side with a handheld camera, capturing candid shots instead of the polished media angles.
“Okay,” Lando said, walking backward as he filmed them heading toward the hospitality unit. “Home race edition. I need energy. I need drama. I need tears, preferably.”
Daniel immediately turned it on. “I can cry on command,” he announced. “Watch this.”
Oscar snorted. “Please don’t.”
Lando laughed behind the camera, the sound bright even over the noise of the crowd. “Perfect. That’s exactly what I need.”
Oscar found himself glancing at Lando more than at the lens. It had become a habit over the past few weeks. Checking for his reaction. Waiting for that small nod of approval or quiet smile.
They had fallen into an easy rhythm. Lando knew when to step in with a prompt and when to let silence stretch. He knew when Oscar was about to retreat into himself and would throw him a subtle lifeline, a quick question, or a sarcastic comment to pull him back out.
Later that afternoon, they filmed a short segment by the edge of the track, the city skyline seen in the distance.
“Describe what this race means to you in one word,” Lando said.
Daniel answered instantly. “Pride.”
He turned the camera to Oscar.
Oscar hesitated, eyes drifting toward the track. “Home,” he said finally.
Lando did not say anything for a moment.
Through the camera lens, he watched the way Oscar’s expression softened. The way the noise seemed to fade for him, like he was somewhere else entirely. Lando lowered the camera slightly.
“That was a good one,” he said quietly, more to Oscar than to the audience. Oscar looked at him then, properly looked at him, and something shifted again.
That evening, after media duties wrapped and Daniel disappeared to meet family, Oscar found himself still in the garage, half out of his race suit. Lando was perched on a stack of equipment cases nearby, reviewing footage.
“You ever get used to this?” Lando asked without looking up.
“To what?”
“The pressure. Everyone expecting something from you. Especially here.”
Oscar leaned back against the wall, considering it. “You don’t get used to it. You just learn how to carry it I guess.”
Lando nodded slowly. “Must be different when it’s your home crowd.”
“It is,” Oscar admitted. “But it’s also kind of nice. Feels like they’re all on your side.”
Lando finally looked up at him. “They are.” The way he said it made Oscar’s chest tighten.
For a moment, it was just the two of them. The garage quieter now, the fluorescent lights casting everything in a soft glow. Close enough that Oscar could see the faint freckles across Lando’s nose. Close enough that Lando noticed the way Oscar’s shoulders dropped when he relaxed.
“You were good today,” Lando said. “On track and on camera.”
Oscar huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re just saying that so I don’t complain about filming more tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” Lando admitted, smiling. “But also because it’s true.”
There was that look again. Warm, steady, and unnervingly sincere.
A mechanic walked past, breaking the moment. The noise rushed back in.
“We’ve got a fan meet and greet thing in the morning,” Lando said, clearing his throat. “I’ll stick close. Make it easier.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “For content?”
“For whatever you need,” Lando replied, a little too quickly.
Silence stretched between them, but it was not an uncomfortable silence.
“See you tomorrow,” Oscar said softly.
“Yeah,” Lando answered.
As Oscar walked out into the Melbourne night, he could still feel the weight of Lando’s gaze lingering on him.
Race day at the Australian Grand Prix had finally arrived and the noise at Albert Park Circuit was relentless. The grandstands were a sea of papaya and Australian flags. Daniel was somewhere down the grid grinning at everyone within a five metre radius. Oscar stood beside his car, helmet tucked under his arm, trying to steady his breathing.
Across the chaos, Lando stood just behind the barrier with a camera in his hands.
Their eyes met and Lando gave him a small nod. Not for content. Just for him.
Oscar nodded back.
The race itself passed by quicker than he imagined. The corners he had driven a hundred times in practice felt entirely different with his home crowd watching and he had made them proud. He had won his home race.
He did not even remember walking back toward the garage after the podium celebrations. He just remembered Lando.
Lando was there before the team swarmed him. Close enough that Oscar could see that he had clearly abandoned filming at some point. The camera hung loose at his side.
“You were unbelievable,” Lando said, breathless, like he had been the one racing.
Oscar laughed, adrenaline still buzzing under his skin. “You’re biased.”
“Yeah,” Lando admitted softly. “I am.”
Around them, mechanics were celebrating. Daniel was shouting something about Australian superiority. Someone popped a bottle of champagne that sprayed sticky droplets into the air.
Lando stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I know this weekend is about you. And Daniel. And the team. But I just… I’m really proud of you.”
Oscar swallowed. “You’ve been with us for, what, a month?”
“Six weeks,” Lando corrected automatically.
Oscar smiled. “And you’re already this personally invested?”
Lando hesitated. The noise of the garage faded into something muffled and distant. “I think,” he said carefully, “it stopped being just a job a while ago.”
Oscar’s heart stuttered. He could walk away. He could laugh it off. He could pretend he did not know what that meant. Instead, he stepped forward.
“Good,” Oscar said quietly. “Because it stopped being just media obligations for me too.”
Lando’s breath caught. For a second, they hovered there, close enough that Oscar could feel the warmth radiating from him. Close enough that Lando’s fingers brushed lightly against Oscar’s wrist, like he was asking permission without words.
Oscar closed the distance.
The kiss was soft and a little uncertain at first. Like they were both afraid the other might pull away. But neither of them did.
When they pulled back, Daniel’s voice rang out from somewhere across the garage. “Oi! Are we celebrating or starting a rom com over there?”
Oscar groaned. Lando laughed, bright and unashamed. They did not move apart.
Lando squeezed his hand once before letting go, the gesture small but grounding. “I should probably get back to filming,” he said, though he made no move to reach for the camera.
“Yeah,” Oscar replied, still a little dazed. “Content.”
Lando grinned. “This will get views for sure.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too.
Years later, long after race suits were retired and the world had moved on to whatever replaced social media, they would sit side by side on a worn couch in a quiet house filled with photos.
Their grandkids would crowd around them, scrolling through ancient clips from TikTok and YouTube that someone had saved.
“So, you were the one filming this?” one of them would ask Lando, staring at a video of two young drivers in oversized orange chairs, laughing over fan questions.
Oscar would glance at Lando, older now, but still with the same warm eyes. “Yeah,” Lando would say, smiling. “That’s where it all started.”
And Oscar would squeeze his hand, just like he did in a crowded garage in Melbourne, when everything was loud and bright and new.
Funny how that day truly changed his life forever.