Chapter Text
1.
Friday 3rd July 2026 - Silverstone Circuit, England
By the time Oscar realised that Lando had been practically inhaling his fries, there were only three left on his plate, which was quite impressive in Oscar's opinion since, he had only stared out the window of McLaren's motorhome to admire the view of the rising sun for a few seconds.
He had long accepted that anything he ordered while next to Lando was technically half his. For some strange reason he felt a kind of pride in his gut whenever Lando took anything that was his (of course he would never EVER say that out loud). It didn't matter whether he had bought it himself, told Lando that he didn't want to share or defended it like it was the most sacred item on planet earth, Lando always found a way to get to it.
Today, it was the fries.
Oscar had barely managed to eat half the fries before Lando had appeared, almost teleported, right behind him. Oscar didn't have to even look up to know it was him as Lando's caramel-like tanned hand swooped in like a seagull and had managed to grab almost half of what was left of his fries.
Oscar had watched him scarf down his fries looking at Lando with a face of pure disappointment and mourning for the loss of his precious fries.
"You do know these are mine right?"
Lando looked up at him with a face of pure innocence. Oscar made the grave mistake of looking back at him. Lando had the prettiest eyes Oscar had ever looked at, His irises looked like a drop of green ink dissolving into a glass of light beer, dark swirls of brown giving way to a beautiful emerald green. His almond-shaped eyes framed the colour beautifully, yet he imagined Lando's eyes closing as he leaned forward to ki-
"Enjoying the view Osc?"
Shit
Oscar blinked slowly, trying to regain any other thought other than Lando's eyes, trying to use his voice like rope to get him out of the weird trance that he had fallen into. He immediately tried looking away, suddenly very interested in his sad collection of fries in front of him.
Lando was still looking back at him when Oscar finally regained the courage to look up, using all of his might to not stare too hard at his face.
Oscar cleared his throat.
"Yea-No? I was looking at your eyes"
There was a small, breif silence that made Oscar want to jump out of his own skin and dissolve into the floor until,
"My eyes? What about them?"
After the confession just when Oscar thought that jumping out the window would be a better fate than holding eye contact with Lando for a few more seconds. Out of nowhere, a quiet, badly held in laugh echoed around the room.
Oscar whipped his head around immediately, trying to search for the distraction he had been praying for, until his eyes found a smug dutchman leaning against the doorframe, casually sipping a RedBull. His eyebrow was lifted slightly as he looked at the scene in front of him. Oscar suddenly felt very conscious of how close he was to his teammate - so close in fact that he could feel the warmth of his breath against his neck that was both grounding and distracting.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Max said, raising his free hand in a mock gesture of surrender. The massive, shit-eating grin on his face made Oscar want to punch him. "Honestly, please carry on. Do not let me interrupt the romance. This is the most entertainment I’ve had all week.”
Oscar frowned, the embarrassment of his own thoughts still leaking through his brain like a broken pipe
“We aren't doing anything. We were just talking about eyes.”
"Ah, of course. Just a casual, deeply intense evaluation of iris pigmentation,” Max replied, wiggling his eyebrows with absolute glee. “Very standard teammate behaviour. I do it with Isack all the time.”
Oscar narrowed his eyes slightly,
"The hell is that supposed to mean?"
“Nothing, mate. Absolutely nothing,” Max chuckled, taking another slow sip of his drink. “Just that if you stare at him any harder, you’re going to burn a hole right through his skull."
Oscar turned back to Lando, praying to God that the conversation would just magically move on, not before giving Max a hard glare that he hoped got the feeling of annoyance across to him telepathically. But of course, while Oscar was actively dying at the torment from Max, he could see Lando having the time of his life out the corner of his eye, as if seeing Oscar lose his will to live was the funniest thing that he had ever seen. As Oscar looked between the both of them, he could see the matching expressions of amusement, making him increasingly more suspicious of what was going on.
"What?" Oscar asked, repeating the question meant for Max back to Lando, praying that there would be an actual answer next time but to his dismay Lando shrugged slightly
"nothing"
Oscar sighed loudly, dragging his hand over his face - it was barely 11am for God's sake, this wasn't in his contract when he had signed to be with McLaren.
Also, he was really beginning to hate that word
"You're doing it again Osciee" Lando said teasingly
Oscar frowned, the space in-between his eyebrows creasing slightly, causing it to look like small dimples. He was so confused that the new nickname was swept away from the raging currents of his mind into the abyss. Only Max seemed to have picked up on it as he tried suppressing his gasp and a little choke on his RedBull as he contained his surprise at Lando's forwardness (although not forward enough to have drilled a hole of understanding into Oscar's oblivious brain).
"Doing what?" Oscar said defensively taking a step back from Lando, although immediately regretting stepping away, as if a magnet was drawing him in as he resisted,
"Staring" Lando replied simply
Oscar looked down at the table, suddenly very annoyed with himself. "I wasn't staring. I was just zoning out. I haven't had enough coffee yet."
From the doorway, Max let out a rough laugh "Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that, Oscar. Very believable, even I know that you don't drink coffee"
Lando grinned as he reached out and snatched the very last 3 fries from the plate like he had single handedly won a war.
"It’s just warm in here," Oscar muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck, even though he knew that they were in the most air-conditioned room in the hospitality. "Look, nothing is happening. He’s just being a parasite and stealing my breakfast. We’re just teammates. That’s literally it."
Max raised his hands, a smug smirk plastered across his face. "Hey, I didn't say anything else, mate. You’re the one getting defensive."
"You really are," Lando agreed. He leaned his elbow heavily on Oscar’s shoulder, entirely too close. "It’s just a joke, Osciee. Unless you actually do think I have nice eyes?" He tilted his head and batting his eyelashes obnoxiously, giving Oscar a look that was entirely too smug.
Oscar felt a heavy warmth press into his chest. He knocked Lando’s arm off his shoulder, grabbed his empty plate, and headed for the exit.
As he passed the door, Max gave him a heavy, mocking pat on the shoulder. "See you at the drivers' breifing, mate. Try not to stare too much."
"Go away, Max, go make out with Charles or something" Oscar said, not looking back.
"Thanks for the fries, Osc!" Lando called out, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Oscar kept walking straight to his room, his face burning. He shut the door behind him and just stood there in the quiet, staring at the floor. They weren't dating. It was a ridiculous idea. They were just two teammates who spent too much time together and shared food. It was fine. Except he could still feel the exact spot on his shoulder where Lando had leaned on him, and his heart was beating entirely too fast. He leaned his head against the door and sighed. He was in deep. Deeper than he had ever thought his feelings could go.