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The First Time
The first time it happened, it was during a slow afternoon in the paddock. The kind of day where nothing urgent was happening, but at the same time, no one was quite free enough yet to leave either.
Lando had claimed a spot on one of the couches, legs stretched out, scrolling aimlessly through his phone while half-listening to the noise around him. It was peaceful, for once, not until Gabi appeared.
Not just appeared. The kid literally materialized.
“Lando,” Gabi said, voice already laced with mischief as he plopped down beside him. “I heard something.” Lando didn’t even look up at first, before saying, “That’s always dangerous when you say it like that.”
“Oh, no, this one’s good,” Gabi insisted, nudging his shoulder. “Like, really good.” That got Lando’s attention. He turned his body slightly–still looking at his phone–one brow raised, already half smiling. “Alright, go on then.”
Gabi leaned in, conspiratorial, like they were about to exchange classified information. His voice dropped just enough to make it feel secretive, even though anyone nearby could probably still hear. “Alright,” he said, glancing around briefly like he was checking who might be listening, “you didn’t hear this from me, but there’s a rumor going around about upgrades.”
Lando barely reacted at first, still scrolling through his phone. “There’s always rumors about upgrades,” he said casually, though there was already a hint of amusement in his voice. “No, yeah, obviously,” Gabi said quickly, waving that off as he shifted even closer, shoulder brushing against Lando’s. “But this one’s different. Like, proper different.”
That got Lando to pause. He tilted his head slightly, finally looking up at him. “Different how?” Gabi’s grin widened immediately, like he’d been waiting for that exact reaction. He nudged Lando’s arm lightly, leaning in just a bit more, lowering his voice again.
“Someone said one team’s been sandbagging,” he said, dragging the word out. “Like, not just for one race. Three.” Lando blinked, before letting out a short, incredulous laugh, before locking his phone and setting it aside. “That’s such nonsense.” “Is it?” Gabi shot back quickly, eyebrows lifting as he studied Lando’s face.
“Because the data doesn’t look like nonsense.” Lando shook his head, already pushing back. “Why would they sandbag for three races? That’s just throwing away points. That’s stupid.” “Not if they’re hiding something bigger,” Gabi countered, leaning in even closer now, their shoulders fully pressed together. “You hold back, make everyone think you’re struggling, and then suddenly, boom! Massive upgrade, no one’s ready for it.”
Lando scoffed, though there was a flicker of thought behind it now. “That’s not how this works. You don’t just give up results hoping it pays off later. Points matter too much.” “Okay, but explain the lap times then,” Gabi pressed, undeterred, clearly having thought this through. “Sector two specifically. They’ve been off for three races, and then suddenly, perfect? That’s not just a setup.”
Lando hesitated. Not fully convinced, but not dismissing it outright anymore either. “Or,” he said slowly, “they just figured something out. That happens.” “Three races later?” Gabi challenged, tilting his head. “Convenient.”
Lando huffed out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re so dramatic.” “And you’re avoiding it,” Gabi shot back easily, grin widening. “Which means I’m onto something.”
“I’m not avoiding anything,” Lando said, though his tone had softened, more amused than anything now. “It’s just a rumor.” “Yeah,” Gabi nodded, satisfied, still leaning into him like he’d earned the space. “A very interesting one.” Lando shook his head, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t shift back. If anything, he stayed exactly where he was, angled toward Gabi now, fully engaged, letting him take up space like it was nothing.
Oscar, who was off to the side—standing not too close—close enough to see them clearly, but just out of earshot of whatever they were talking about. He couldn’t hear a word, so all he had to go off was the way they moved, the way their expressions shifted, the way Gabi leaned in like he had every right to be there.
At first, it didn’t mean anything, it was just two drivers talking. But then Lando looked up, really looked at Gabi, phone forgotten, attention fully pulled in, and something about that made Oscar pause. Gabi said something, clearly dragging it out for effect, and Lando reacted instantly, head tilting, lips pulling into a grin, body turning just slightly closer without thinking. And that was when Oscar noticed how close they actually were. Closer than necessary.
Gabi nudged him, said something else, leaned in again, and Lando didn’t move. Didn’t create space, didn’t pull back, didn’t even seem aware of it. If anything, he stayed right there, letting it happen, letting Gabi take up that space like it was his to take.
Oscar’s gaze lingered longer than it should have, something quiet and tight settling in his chest. He didn’t know what they were saying, didn’t know what was so interesting, but he could see the way Lando laughed, the way he stayed engaged, the way he didn’t seem to mind the closeness at all.
And that, more than anything, was what didn’t sit right with Oscar.
The Second Time
The second time it happened, it was during a rare slow or ‘free’ day, the kind everyone talked about like it was a miracle. Lando had made the mistake of mentioning he had nothing planned.
That was all it took, before—
“Lando.” He didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. “Ollie, no,” he said immediately, though there was already a smile tugging at his lips.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” “I do know,” Lando replied, finally glancing over, and sure enough, Ollie was already halfway into his space, eyes bright with excitement.
“It’s the racing sim,” Ollie said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You said you’d try it with me.” “I said I might,” Lando corrected. “That’s basically a yes.” Ollie replied with sureness. “That’s not how that works.”
Ollie groaned dramatically, flopping down beside him and immediately leaning in, elbows on his knees, turning fully toward Lando. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We can set up a proper session, I’ll show you everything—” “You act like I don’t know how to use a sim,” Lando laughed. “No, no, but this one’s different,” Ollie insisted, reaching out to grab Lando’s wrist without hesitation, shaking it slightly. “It’s got this new model and, okay, wait, you have to see it, I can’t explain it properly–”
“Please?” Ollie cut in, his voice softening as he tilted his head slightly, eyes going wide in that unmistakable bright, hopeful, and faux innocent way. There was something almost unfair about it, the way he looked at Lando like that, like he already knew he was going to win, like he’d figured out exactly how to make it impossible to say no. “Just one day,” the teen added, a pout tugging at his lips, stubborn and relentless all at once. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Lando hesitated, not because he didn’t want to. But because Ollie was very hard to say no to when he looked like that. Leaning in, practically bouncing with energy, still holding onto his wrist like Lando might disappear otherwise.
“Fine,” Lando relented finally. “Just today.” “Yes!” Ollie beamed, tightening his grip for a second before letting go, clearly pleased with himself.
Oscar, who had been seeking out Lando to potentially invite him for a quiet drink (coffee or latté perhaps), froze the moment he saw that there was already someone hogging Lando’s attention. Ollie—the taller, and younger driver—was already flopping down beside Lando.
A speck of jealousy had once again, settled in Oscar’s chest. Ollie had claimed Lando’s focus, drawn him in entirely, and there was nothing Oscar could do about it. Ollie’s wide, pleading eyes, the tilt of his head, the slight pout… it made him look like a puppy begging for scraps, ridiculous and desperate in the best way. And somehow, Oscar understood why Lando couldn’t say no.
He crossed his arms, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. Fine, he thought. Today, the puppy won.
Ollie can have Lando (at least for today). Lando was already caught, completely enchanted, and there was no arguing with that. And yet… that didn’t mean Oscar felt less disappointed. Not really. He just accepted it, quietly amused, feeling a strange mixture of defeat and admiration for just how effective Ollie’s charm was.
By the time Lando finally relented and Ollie’s grin went full-on victory mode, Oscar shook his head slightly, still smiling lightly. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath. “He can’t say no to that.” And really… he didn’t even mind. At least, not that much.
The Third Time
The third time it happened, it was during a scheduled media interview. Something that was supposed to be quick and simple. Just Lando, a stool, a microphone, and a few standard questions to be asked by the press.
It started that way.
The interview had already been rolling for a few minutes, with Lando breezing through the questions about last weekend’s race and the team’s preparation. He had just settled into a comfortable rhythm when the interviewer leaned in slightly, smiling.
“And how are you feeling coming into this weekend?” the interviewer asked, smiling. “Good,” Lando said easily. “I think we’ve got a strong–” “Hi.”
Lando blinked.
The interviewer did too.
All of these, because Franco had just walked straight into frame. No warning, and no hesitation whatsoever. He was just… there. “Sorry,” Franco said, not sounding sorry at all as he crouched down beside Lando’s stool, looking up at him with a grin. “I got bored.”
Lando let out a surprised laugh. “You can’t just… this isn’t–” “It’s fine,” Franco cut in, waving a hand dismissively before turning to the camera. “I think? Hi!”
The interviewer looked deeply confused, but not really mad about it. The younger guy, Franco, was already settled, one arm resting casually against Lando’s leg like he planned to stay. And Lando didn't move him.
“Alright,” Lando said, trying to compose himself, though his smile kept breaking through. “I guess we’re doing this together now.” Franco beamed at that. And just like that, it was an interview together.
They answered questions side by side, with Franco chiming in whenever he felt like it, adding commentary, making Lando laugh mid-sentence, and turning what was supposed to be a structured interview into something loose and chaotic.
Oscar, who had just finished his own interview, was standing off to the side waiting for Lando to finish his. From where he was, he witnessed how the Argentinian rookie crashed the interview. He watched as Franco strode into frame with that impossible confidence, crouched down beside Lando’s stool like he’d been invited, and immediately started chatting, completely ignoring the camera.
Oscar saw Lando blink, pause, and then break into laughter, trying, and failing to keep a straight face. He watched Franco stretch an arm lazily against Lando’s leg, lean in to whisper something, and nudge him playfully, and he noted, with that sharp part of his brain that always noticed these things, how Lando didn’t move him. Didn’t even flinch. Instead, he adjusted naturally, included Franco in the conversation, made it feel effortless, like it was supposed to happen.
He could see them both laughing mid-sentence, Lando rolling his eyes at some cheeky comment Franco made, Franco nudging again, leaning closer, gesturing toward the camera as if he belonged there entirely. From where Oscar stood, arms crossed, it all looked… chaotic, playful, and entirely unguarded.
As if on command, a small twinge of jealousy tightened in his chest—not sharp, not overwhelming, just quietly present—as he realized how easily Franco had inserted himself into Lando’s attention. How easily he smothered Lando with his presence and his, well, affection.
The amount of times the rookies had managed to hijack Lando’s focus and attention flashed through Oscar’s mind. He exhaled softly, forcing a calm expression, though his gaze lingered longer than it should have. He didn’t move closer, didn’t interrupt, but he couldn’t look away.
The Fourth Time
The fourth time it happened, it was during the drivers’ parade.
Lando and Oscar were standing side by side on the float, but slightly turned so that their backs pressed against each other. They were both greeting and joking with other drivers as the parade moved along, hands waving to fans, smiles exchanged, small nods and laughs shared. It wasn’t anything grand, but it left them close enough to feel each other’s presence, to lean slightly into the support without thinking about it. All of it felt grounding.
Lando was talking to Arvid. Well, not exclusively, as they were surrounded by the other rookies too, but his focus was unmistakably on Arvid. Every gesture, every little quip, and every laugh seemed directed at the latter. Oscar, meanwhile, was talking with Charles and George, answering questions, and smiling politely at the other driver.
Then, almost without thinking, Oscar’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, drawn by the tilt of Lando’s head and the quiet intensity in his posture. And that’s when he saw Arvid.
The way he was looking at Lando, all soft, unguarded, and almost painfully attentive. This stopped Oscar cold. The rookie's attention wasn’t loud or over the top, but rather, the opposite—with his quiet, steady gaze that lingered on Lando’s every movement. The rookie leaned in slightly, laughed easily at a joke, mirrored gestures without realizing, the faintest and softest smile tugging at his lips like Lando’s every word and actions mattered more than it should.
Oscar’s jaw tightened slightly. You see, it wasn't about the teasing touches or playful antics this time. It was subtle. Invisible unless you were paying attention. And Oscar was paying attention.
He watched Arvid, puppy-like and captivated, completely absorbed in Lando’s presence. Lando, oblivious as ever, kept talking, laughing, gesturing, completely unaware of the effect he was having. And somehow, that made it worse.
The Fifth Time
The fifth time it happened, it was during the aftermath of the Japan Grand Prix.
The energy was still buzzing post-race adrenaline, conversations overlapping, and people moving in clusters as they made their way through the paddock.
By the time they left the paddock, George, Kimi, Lando, and Oscar had ended up walking together, a sort of loose cluster formed almost by chance. George was calm and easygoing as ever, keeping the conversation mostly with Oscar, talking quietly about the session, and some other things.
Kimi, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of energy and joy, practically vibrating with excitement from his P1 win. The teen was chattering nonstop about the race, the fans, the adrenaline, and everything in between. Lando found himself smiling almost constantly at Kimi’s enthusiasm, laughing along, nodding at his rapid-fire stories, and occasionally teasing him back, the warmth in his expression growing as he soaked in Kimi’s infectious energy.
Then, out of nowhere, Kimi turned toward Lando with that straightforward, unfiltered energy he carried so effortlessly. “Lando, can I take a picture with you?” he asked, voice sudden but insistent, as if he’d been building up to it since the parade began. Lando laughed immediately, the warmth in his grin spreading easily. “Sure, Mr. two-time pole sitter.” Kimi’s face lit up, already pulling out his phone, stepping closer until he was practically pressed against Lando’s side as he angled the camera. “Wait, like this,” Kimi said, grabbing onto Lando’s arm to adjust their position.
Lando let himself be moved, still laughing. “You’re very particular about this.” “It has to be good.” “It’s just a photo—” “No, it’s important.”
They took it once, then again, then again, because Kimi wasn’t satisfied with just one. Even after the phone was tucked away, he didn’t move far. If anything, he stayed closer, brushing his hand against Lando’s sleeve once, then again, until he finally just held onto it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. As they continued walking, Kimi shifted again, looping his arm through Lando’s without hesitation, pulling himself slightly inward as he began talking animatedly. Lando didn’t pull away, didn’t even register it as unusual. He just responded, engaged, smiling, letting Kimi stay right there.
Oscar, walking on Lando’s other side, had been quietly listening to George, contributing occasionally to the easy conversation, but the way Lando was leaning into Kimi’s chatter, laughing and responding to his excitement, made the closeness between Lando and the energetic rookie impossible to ignore.
When Kimi began holding onto Lando’s arm, leaning in, and talking animatedly as only Kimi could, a sharp coil of something—jealousy, frustration, protectiveness—tightened in Oscar’s chest. He had tried to ignore it before, but this time, the accumulation of contact and closeness, right there at his side, made it impossible.
“Lando,” he said suddenly, voice cutting through Kimi’s excited chatter. Lando turned immediately. “Yeah?” “I need you for a second.”
Kimi’s hold on Lando’s arm loosened, just slightly, eyebrows raised in mild surprise, but still smiling, while George glanced at them calmly, unfazed, his easy demeanor keeping the moment grounded. Lando didn’t hesitate. “Oh, yeah, okay,” he said, stepping toward Oscar.
Oscar didn’t pause. He just started walking, confident Lando would follow, and he did, as always. Behind them, Kimi blinked, a little startled by how sudden it all had been. But, barely even a pause, before he turned to George and immediately started yapping again. George just shook his head with a soft laugh, indulging the younger.
The One Time
The one time it didn’t happen the usual way—when Lando wasn’t the one being smothered by a rookie—was during a media day a few races later.
Somehow, Oscar ended up on the receiving end, caught in a conversation with Isack. Isack was talking a mile a minute, animated and expressive, hands waving as he recounted every detail of Red Bull’s weekend. “And then the car just wouldn’t go fast, and Max, I swear he was losing it, and the pit wall—oh, you should’ve seen the pit wall, it had a hole after he kicked it!” he said, voice rising and falling with every little twist in the story.
Oscar, for his part, was calm, patient, listening intently, offering small nods and quiet responses, laughing at the right moments, letting Isack spill every last chaotic detail. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t step back, and didn’t look annoyed. Instead, he simply let Isack talk, letting him fill the space around them with energy.
From across the paddock, Lando noticed this interaction. He paused, watching with a quiet fondness and a little amusement.
For once, it wasn’t Lando being pulled into someone else’s orbit, it wasn’t his space being invaded or his attention hogged. This time, it was Oscar, patiently following every animated gesture, every rapid sentence, every loud laugh. And somehow, it was kind of cute.
When Isack finally stepped back, exhaling like he’d just run a marathon, Oscar shook his head lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. Lando slipped in beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly. “You looked busy,” he teased.
“He talks a lot,” Oscar said, voice half-exasperated, half-amused. Then, with a small smirk, he added, “You know… reminds me of how often you get smothered by the rookies.” Lando’s eyes sparkled slightly, and then a grin spread across his face. “Oh, really? Me?” he asked, tilting his head up to glance at Oscar.
“Yeah,” Oscar said softly, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Gabi, Ollie, Franco, Arvid, Kimi… it’s basically a parade around you every time.” Lando laughed quietly, nudging closer. “You’re counting, huh?” Oscar chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Lando’s hair gently. “I mean… I’ve noticed.”
Lando leaned his head against Oscar’s shoulder without thinking, soft and easy, and Oscar immediately melts into it, tilting his own head slightly to press just a little closer. “See?” Oscar murmured, teasing. “Even now, you’re still letting someone else’s energy pull you along.” Lando blinked up at him, smiling softly, then whispered, “I let the best one pull me along.”
Oscar’s smile widened, warmth spreading through his chest. He pressed a quick, gentle kiss to the top of Lando’s head. “Good boy,” he said, voice low, affectionate, and Lando just hummed contentedly against him, perfectly happy to stay exactly where he was.
And for a moment, the noise of the paddock—the rookies, the press, the chaos of the weekend—faded completely. There was just Oscar, calm and steady, and Lando, soft and surrendered, wrapped up together in a little bubble of warmth, teasing, and quiet affection that didn’t need words to say everything.