Chapter Text
For several years now, Lando Norris’s life has revolved entirely around fashion and style. He was one of the youngest editors-in-chief at a fashion magazine, as well as the author of the incredibly popular blog "LN4". His followers loved the way he interacted with them, his entertaining live streams with friends, and his aesthetically pleasing posts from fashion shows and events. Lando had an eye for beauty in the details, whether it was yet another exquisite outfit from a little-known designer’s new collection or the perfect, aerodynamic lines of a racing car, for which he had had a soft spot since childhood.
It was thanks to his blog - or, more precisely, one of his most popular posts, in which he analysed the drivers’ style with his characteristic humour, noting that some of them, in his opinion, could do with a personal stylist who would finally find them trousers of the right length - Lando received the coveted invitation from McLaren to attend the British Grand Prix at Silverstone as their guest. Of course, Norris simply couldn’t turn down such a generous invitation.
He was ready to immerse himself in the world of speed and high technology, to hear the roar of engines and the screech of tyres, and to see crowds of people as passionate about the sport as he was. Lando was looking forward to the chance to take exclusive photos for his blog, as well as meeting face-to-face with the drivers who climb into those devilishly fast cars and battle for victory. He was ready for anything under the sun, but he certainly wasn’t ready to meet a man whose hazel eyes and polite smile instantly stole his heart.
Lando quickly discovered that the owner of that smile was called Oscar Piastri. He was Australian and Carlos Sainz’s race engineer. The lad had tousled hair that looked incredibly soft even at a glance, the most charming laugh Lando had ever heard, and a magnificent figure that made the alpha turn his head every time the Australian walked past. Lando found him incredibly attractive.
Norris was captivated at first sight, as if struck by lightning. His eyes seemed glued to the Australian, following him around the pit lane, in the pits and during qualifying, not missing a single gesture, a single facial expression, or even the way Oscar thoughtfully bit his lower lip when something didn’t go to plan. The lad’s focused gaze as he leaned over the telemetry screens, his rapid gesturing as he explained something to Carlos before the next FP, or the dark strands of hair falling across his forehead, sent a thrill through Lando’s chest and made him devise a plan to catch the Australian engineer’s attention.
However, there was one detail that Lando Norris hadn’t even suspected. Over the years in Formula 1, Oscar had grown accustomed to the constant attention surrounding Carlos. Sainz was not only a talented driver but also possessed incredible charisma and appeal, which meant that Oscar, as Carlos’s engineer, interpreted Lando’s glances in a completely different light. He saw how the British alpha constantly looked at Sainz, how his gaze lingered on the Spaniard when he was talking to the team, laughing with the mechanics or chatting with guests in the garage. And being not only Carlos’s engineer but also his friend, he felt increasingly irritated with every passing hour. Carlos had been happily married for several years now; his husband regularly came to the races, and Oscar, to be honest, was fed up to the back teeth with pushy fans who tried to get through to the driver via him, using him as an intermediary. What’s more, the car wasn’t performing at its best, which didn’t help Oscar’s mood either; his nerves were stretched to breaking point this weekend. So, Carlos’s new admirer was a source of great irritation to him, although Piastri did admit to himself that the man was very handsome.
For three days, Lando, unaware of Oscar’s thoughts, tried to bridge the gap, but each time it was as if he were bumping into an invisible wall. The Brit naively assumed that his signals would be as obvious as possible, but something had gone wrong. He would bring Oscar freshly brewed coffee from the nearest café, leaving it with a slight smile next to Oscar’s engineering notes, but Oscar, casting a suspicious glance, would always take the cup away somewhere. Lando would leave a packet of Oscar’s favourite gummy bears on his desk, but the Australian, frowning, would push them aside. ‘For Carlos again,’ thought Piastri, and, without saying a word, took it all to Sainz’s drivers’ room, where Carlos, unsuspecting, happily tucked in, telling Oscar yet another story about his daughter, who had started walking and was now causing him and his husband no end of trouble. Lando, watching this from a distance, could only sigh, believing that Oscar was too well-mannered to reject his attentions in public.
Once, Lando even tried to speak to Oscar when he stepped away for a moment from the monitors he had been studying intently. But as soon as he heard his voice, the Australian immediately hurried back to his data, muttering something about ‘urgent calculations’. Norris was constantly finding excuses to be near Piastri; his voice sounded a little more playful than usual when he tried to attract attention with silly questions. Oscar, however, with a stony face, replied in monosyllables; his tone was dry and aloof. Then, casting an angry glance at Lando, full of unspoken irritation, he led Carlos away, muttering something about “annoying alphas”. In his eyes, Lando was just another predator circling his friend, and Oscar was determined to protect Carlos from such advances.
After the race, which ended in an early retirement for Carlos due to engine problems, the mood in the McLaren pits was gloomy. Lando, however, had no intention of giving up. The Briton realised he could wait no longer; this might be his last, or even his only, chance to speak to the object of his affection. Besides, it seemed to be an opportunity to catch Oscar without Carlos, with whom they had been inseparable all weekend.
He tracked Oscar down just as the latter had finally been released from his team duties and was heading for the paddock exit; his shoulders were slumped, and his face betrayed exhaustion and deep disappointment.
“Oscar!” Lando called out; his voice was soft but insistent.
Oscar flinched, raised his head and, upon seeing Lando, immediately tensed. His eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“What do you want, Mr.Norris?” he said, his tone sharp, full of hidden irritation and weariness. “If you want to speak to Carlos, he’s already gone.”
"What? No, that's not what I'm here for." Lando shook his head. He took a step forward, but Oscar immediately stepped back. "I wanted to talk to you."
"With me? Why?" Oscar raised an eyebrow sceptically; his voice still tinged with wariness. “If you’ve come for Carlos’s private number, you can forget it. He’s happily married, and I’m not going to help you destroy his family. And I don’t think Carlos would trade a happy marriage for a fling with a handsome alpha.”
Lando blinked, completely taken aback by such directness. He was momentarily lost for words, and then, as the meaning of Oscar’s words sank in, a mixture of surprise and mild amusement spread across his face.
“Carlos? His phone number?” he repeated, then laughed, sincerely and contagiously. “Oscar, I’m not after Carlos’s number. I know he’s happily married. It’s you I’m interested in.”
Lando felt his cheeks flush. He’d expected anything from laughter to contempt, but not what happened next.
Oscar’s expression changed in an instant. Wariness gave way to utter bewilderment, and then to deep, burning embarrassment. His cheeks flushed bright red, his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. He looked as though he’d been caught off guard, as though he’d only just realised that all his assumptions had been fundamentally wrong. He looked at Lando, trying to work out if he was joking, but there was not a trace of mockery in the Briton’s eyes, only genuine interest and a hint of hope.
“Interested in me?” Oscar muttered, his voice barely audible.
“Yes,” Lando nodded, his smile softening. “I like you, Oscar. And I’d like to ask you out on a date when you have a free evening in your schedule.”
Sensing the reaction his words had provoked, Lando plucked up his courage and took a note from his pocket bearing his personal phone number. He handed it to Oscar.
“Give me a call when you’re ready. Or send me a message. I’d really like to get to know you better.”
Oscar took the note; his fingers were trembling slightly. He looked at it, then at Lando, then back at the card, as if trying to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream. The embarrassment on his face was so palpable that Lando could barely suppress a smile.
“I…” Oscar faltered, at a loss for words.
“You don’t need to say anything right now,” Lando said gently. “Just think about it. And please don’t leave this card in Carlos’s driver’s room; I’m afraid his husband will haunt my dreams if he finds it.” He winked, and Oscar finally allowed himself a slight chuckle.
“I’ll think about it,” said Oscar, still a little dazed.
“I hope you do. I’ll be waiting. And by the way, it’s nice to know you think I’m handsome, Osc.”
Lando smiled again, then turned and walked away, leaving Oscar standing in the middle of the pits, clutching the note with the number in his hand and trying to make sense of what had just happened.
It seemed Oscar had just been asked out on a date by one of the most attractive blokes in Britain. Wow.