Chapter Text
The Hungarian Grand Prix always felt like a strange place to end one chapter of the season and begin another.
The paddock emptied faster than usual on Sunday evening. Mechanics packed freight into crates, engineers hurried between garages with laptops tucked under their arms, and drivers disappeared one by one, each scattering toward whatever "summer break" meant to them.
For Oscar, it usually meant Melbourne. Or Monaco. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere familiar.
This year, it meant Italy.
The invitation had come from Lando weeks earlier, slipped into conversation as casually as discussing tire compounds.
"You should come stay with us for a bit."
Oscar had laughed. "With your family?"
"Yeah."
"For... how long?"
"Two weeks?" Lando had shrugged as if suggesting they grab dinner after simulator work. "Mum already assumes you're coming anyway."
Oscar hadn't known whether he was joking.
Turned out, he wasn't.
The drive from Salerno Costa d'Amalfi Airport wound along cliffs overlooking impossibly blue water.
The taxi windows were rolled down, warm salt air flooding the car.
Whitewashed houses dotted the hillsides. Terracotta roofs glowed beneath the afternoon sun. Everything looked sun-bleached, as though the entire coastline had spent decades soaking in light.
Oscar rested his forehead against the window. He wasn't nervous. Not exactly, just unsure.
He'd spent countless weekends with Lando over the years. Airports. Hotels. Engineering rooms. Media pens. Team dinners.
But families were different.
Families made things feel...
Permanent.
The villa sat high above the Ligurian Sea. Cream-colored walls. Blue shutters. Bougainvillea climbed over stone archways, spilling bursts of pink across the white exterior. The sea stretched endlessly beyond the terrace.
It looked less like a holiday house and more like something from a postcard.
Oscar climbed out of the taxi, suddenly very aware of the overnight bag hanging from his shoulder.
Before he even reached the front gate –
"Oscar!"
A voice carried across the courtyard. The front door swung open.
Lando jogged barefoot across the stone path, sunglasses perched carelessly on top of his head.
"You actually came."
Oscar blinked. "... You invited me."
"I know." Lando grinned so widely it was impossible not to smile back. "I just thought you'd find an excuse."
"You seemed pretty confident."
"I was," he beamed. "... Until yesterday."
Oscar laughed quietly. "You worried I'd cancel?"
"A little."
Before Oscar could answer, another figure appeared in the doorway. Then another. And another. His smile faltered.
Right. The family.
"Lando," his mum called with amused exasperation, "are you going to let the poor boy stand outside all afternoon?"
"Oh." Lando stepped aside dramatically. "Right." He gestured toward the house. "Welcome home."
The words came so naturally that Oscar almost missed them. Almost.
Lando's mum greeted him with a warm hug before he'd even had the chance to introduce himself properly.
"It's so lovely to finally have you here."
"Thank you for having me."
"Oh, nonsense." She smiled as though he'd been visiting for years. "Anyone Lando talks about this much is already family."
Oscar shot Lando a confused glance.
Lando suddenly found the floor incredibly interesting. "... Mum."
"What?"
"Nothing."
She looked entirely unbothered. "I only said the truth."
Within minutes, someone had taken his bag upstairs. Someone else offered him lemonade. Lando's dad asked about the race. His siblings wandered in and out of conversations as though he'd always been there.
Nobody made him feel like a guest.
Which somehow made him feel even more like one.
Everyone else knew exactly where everything was. Which cupboard held the glasses. Which chair always belonged to whom. Which doors squeaked.
Oscar found himself hesitating before opening cabinets. Apologizing for things that needed no apology. Standing until someone reminded him he could sit.
He wasn't uncomfortable. Just conscious. Very conscious.
Lando, meanwhile, drifted effortlessly through the house. Barefoot, opening the fridge without looking. Stealing strawberries from a bowl on the counter. Answering questions from three different rooms at once.
He looked younger here. Brighter.
The constant tension Oscar had grown used to seeing during race weekends had simply disappeared.
There were no engineers waiting for him. No cameras. No interviews. No expectations. Just home.
Oscar wasn't sure he'd ever seen this version of him.
As evening settled over the coastline, dinner stretched well past sunset.
Stories flowed easily around the table. Mostly at Lando's expense. Childhood mishaps. School stories. Family holidays.
Oscar listened more than he spoke, smiling whenever Lando buried his face in his hands in mock embarrassment.
"You did what?" Oscar asked after one particularly ridiculous story.
"I was eight," Lando protested.
"That's not a defense."
"It absolutely is."
"It really isn't."
Lando pointed accusingly across the table. "See? This is why I didn't want them telling these stories."
His mum laughed. "Oh, you tell him enough embarrassing stories about yourself already."
Oscar looked up. "You do?"
Lando froze. "... No."
"You absolutely do," his sister chimed in.
Oscar couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Really?"
Lando groaned dramatically. "I'm surrounded by traitors."
Later that night, Oscar stepped out onto the terrace with a cup of tea.
The house had finally gone quiet. Only the distant crash of waves remained. The ocean was almost black beneath the moonlight, silver where the waves caught the light.
He rested his arms against the stone railing.
The air smelled faintly of salt and rosemary. Beautiful. Peaceful. But unfamiliar.
"You okay?"
Oscar turned.
Lando stood in the doorway, hands shoved into the pockets of an old hoodie despite the warmth.
"Yeah."
"You've been quiet."
Oscar watched another wave roll toward the cliffs.
"I just..." He searched for the words. "... Your family's nice."
Lando smiled softly.
"They like you."
"I noticed."
"They were worried you wouldn't come."
Oscar laughed under his breath. "They've never met me."
"They didn't need to."
Oscar looked at him.
Lando shrugged. "I told them about you."
There was something strangely vulnerable in the admission. Not dramatic, just honest.
Oscar looked back toward the ocean. "... Thanks for inviting me."
Lando leaned against the railing beside him. "Thanks for saying yes."
Neither spoke again. They didn't need to. Below them, waves broke rhythmically against the cliffs.
Somewhere inside the villa, someone laughed in their sleep.
And for the first time in months, there wasn't a race to think about tomorrow.
There was only the sea.
And three long weeks stretching out before them.