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Oscar knew he had been doing so well, had been all weekend. Fourth in free practice 1, second in free practice 2, first in free practice 3 and 2 in qualifying. Now they were over halfway through the race and one impressive overtake later on 4-time World Drivers Champion Max Verstappen later, they were currently in a comfortable McLaren 1-2 with his teammate, Lando, leading and him not far behind, and gaining every lap.
That was, until, a simple rookie mistake sent him through the gravel trap at turn 12. He was lucky that he managed to avoid beaching the car. However, his quick trip into Melbourne’s famous beaches cost him control over his car, and in the wet at such high speeds, control was critical.
Oscar barely processed the way his car slid across the wet track and into the wetter grass. He didn’t fully register it until the car came to a complete stop. He didn’t hesitate, however, immediately trying to accelerate out of the green. He could hear the sound of his wheels spinning, the whining as he pushed as much power into them as he could. But still, he didn’t move. Oscar gritted his teeth in frustration.
All this effort, all this work; enduring Alpine’s shit for far too many years, keeping his mouth shut during the Papaya Rules and team orders controversies of last year, working to improve the car even more to ensure they stayed ahead of Mercedes and Ferrari. Dreaming of a home race win in the season opener. And he threw it all away.
No. He refused to give up. Not here, not now, not when he was in front of his home crowd. Even if he couldn’t hear them right now over the noise of his car and radio, he knew that they were cheering, cheering for him. He couldn’t let them down. He wouldn’t let them down.
Oscar put his car into reverse. The wheels struggled as they moved, suddenly forced to spin in the opposite direction. For what felt like forever, though looking back it couldn’t be more than a second, nothing happened. And then, and then, there was movement. Just a little bit, but it was enough. Enough to give him hope. His race would not end here.
He continued putting as much as he could into reverse. Slowly, ever so slowly, his car moved backwards. Inch by inch, he maneuvered his car towards the asphalt runoff. Car after car zoomed past him, but Oscar was too focused on getting himself back into the race to care that he went for 2nd to 13th. That would be something he would worry about later.
His car crept slowly backwards. If he cared to look up, he would see fans jumping and waving their arms in support as they watched him recover from what was sure to be a DNF. The timing screens already showed him as OUT but that wouldn’t stop Oscar. Eventually, the wheels of the car made contact with the asphalt and he could finally get back on track. (Later, when he was punishing himself by watching recordings of his mistake, he would hear the roar of the crowd as he recovered. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself.)
Oscar immediately ducked into the pits for a set of inters under the instruction of his race engineer. He passed Bearman in the Haas easily. Two laps later, however, the safety car was back out after Bortoleto and Lawson crashed out of the race at turn 13 and turn 2 respectively. Oscar grit his teeth; the safety car would only prevent his climb back up the order.
It wasn’t until lap 52 did the safety car return to the pits, leaving Oscar with only 5 laps to get himself back into the points. Passing Tsunoda for 11th wasn’t too hard, the VCARB driver struggling with shitty strategy more than anything else. Oscar was quickly gaining on the top 10, thanks to the absolute rocketship the McLaren was this season.
A smooth overtake on Gasly on lap 55 brought him up into the points with 2 laps left. Now, he was stuck behind a 7-time World Champion. But Oscar was determined. He may have thrown away his chance for a podium at his home race, but he refused to let it end like this. Lap 56, a 2.5 second gap to the legend of the sport. By the start of the final lap he had brought the gap down to 1.2 seconds. His car was fast and Oscar wouldn’t let it go to waste.
As Lando and Max drove through turn 14, Oscar made his move. The wet track didn’t put him off. Outside and wheel to wheel with Hamilton at turn nine, Oscar overtook the most successful driver for p9.
But all he could feel when he crossed the finish line was shame. His own mistakes had thrown away a potential win at his home grand prix. When he has the fastest car, p9 feels like nothing. Especially when his teammate finished first.
Now Oscar liked Lando, don’t get him wrong, but knowing that he was standing on the top step at Oscar’s home grand prix while Oscar wasn’t even on the podium made him feel a little bitter. And he was happy for Lando, he truly was, he knew how much the elder had given to this team and how he deserved these wins, but some dark part of him wished that their positions were reversed.
Oscar shoved those traitorous feelings down as they prepared to take a team picture with Lando’s trophy. He could plaster on a smile for his teammate and friend, surprised almost, when it came out more genuine than he expected.
He watched Lando from a distance, watching him practically glow with happiness. The older man looked absolutely ecstatic with his win and Oscar didn’t want to bring him down with woes about his own race.
The photo was fine. A picture with the team, the trophies and the P1 board. Oscar had only just managed to get out of the way in time as they were sprayed by more champagne. Lando, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
Oscar knew he was ‘down bad’ for his teammate (as Logan put it) and had been since he was in F2. Stolen glances and shared smiles between them both had been enough to sustain Oscar since 2023. He never looked for more, even if he wanted it. He doubted he would ever be Lando’s first choice, if he was even on the list in the first place. Not when men like Carlos Sainz were on it.
Oscar’s gaze lingered on Lando for a moment longer, something wistful pooling in his eyes. He quashed it down quickly, right now, he had to go over how he fucked up and how to prevent it from happening again next weekend.
-
Lando watched silently as Oscar quietly slipped away towards his driver room. The round Australian Grand Prix trophy felt heavy in his hands. He had had this whole weekend planned out for weeks, and now it was just…gone.
They were going to qualify next to each other, 1-2, and they had, though admittedly not in the positions he knew the fans were hoping for, and then they were going to race each other, fair and square, for the win. And then, in their rooms after the race, Lando would finally confess his feelings to the young Australian. And it had been going all according to plan for the 80% of the race. Max might have jumped Oscar at the start, but he had expertly gotten the place back.
They were close to each other lap after lap while the rest of the grid fell away. Even after the other Australian Doohan crashed on the opening lap, bringing out an earlier safety car that also took out Carlos, they were looking good.
There had been a couple of wet races the past two seasons, Brazil 2024 being the most notable. It wasn’t like they weren’t used to racing in the wet. But mistakes happen. Lando would admit to the spike of fear when he went off on the leadup to turn 13. He was able to keep it on the track. His teammate, best friend, home town hero and crush hadn’t been as lucky.
In his mirrors, he was able to watch as Oscar slid off into the grass on turn 13. His stomach plummeted. For Oscar to DNF at his home race and the opening race of the season, especially when they had such a good car and when they were in front…Lando felt for him.
He could hear Will talking to him over the radio, but it all felt like background noise. The crowds were on their feet, but he knew it wasn’t for him. Will was still talking to him as Lando pressed on, not paying attention at all. Then ‘Oscar’s gotten back on track’ crackled through the radio. Lando exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. He would finish the race. Despite everything, he would finish the race.
Back in the present, as his fingers curled around the round trophy, Lando could imagine, somewhat, what Oscar must be feeling. He remembered all too well how horrible he felt after throwing away the win in Sochi, also due to rain. But, at the very least, it hadn’t been his home race. Oscar didn’t talk much about his feelings, but Lando knew he was devastated. Because who wouldn’t be? Oscar wasn’t the emotionless robot the media liked to portray him as, Lando had learnt that well over the past seasons.
The media would be whispering again now, making up bullshit stories about the Australian Grand Prix Curse, and how Oscar Piastri Isn’t as Good of a Driver as We Thought. Which, may he reiterate, is bullshit. The rain always catches drivers out. Hell, it ended Carlos’ and Fednando’s races today and the media would never call either of them a bad driver for it.
Lando trudged back to his room after being dismissed by Zak and Andrea, the latter with a knowing look in his eye. The media (because it’s always the media) liked to play up the favouritism between the CEO, Team Principal and their drivers. And sure, maybe they did have their favourite driver, but Zak and Andrea treated them and respected them both equally.
He found himself hovering by Oscar’s closed door, contemplating whether to knock or not. Glancing down at the trophy and his champagne-drenched body, he made the decision to go change before bothering Oscar.
He slipped into a McLaren brand shirt and comfortable pants after wiping himself clean of the remaining champagne, slipped out of his room and down the little corridor towards Oscar’s. Again, he found himself hesitating. What could he say? ‘Sorry the rain ruined your race. Good job making it back into the points’? To him, it sounded condescending.
His hand hovered over the handle. God, this was pathetic. Oscar had just been through one of the worst outcomes for his race possible and here Lando was, the race winner and all, unable to fucking knock on a door. Eventually, he managed to swallow his nerves and knock three times on the door.
Inside, he could hear shuffling before the door opened maybe an inch, Oscar’s head peeking out. Lando almost recoiled at his state. Not once had he seen Oscar like this; his hair a mess and his eyes red and teary. Not after Hungary or Silverstone both times when the pit wall had fucked up their strategy.
‘Lando.’ Oscar sounded surprised to see him.
‘Oscar.’
Oscar hesitated, glancing behind him, before opening the door wider, inviting Lando in. The state of Oscar’s room was - well it wasn’t great. And Oscar’s room was hardly clean most of the time. Clothes were strewn across the room as if they were thrown. His collection of home race merch had been dumped in the farthest corner of the room, and his driver suit was haphazardly laying on the bed.
Lando must have made a face because Oscar hurried to defend himself.
‘I was looking for something, a hat. Nothing else.’ His voice still sounded wet with tears despite the smile he had slapped on and that was what broke Lando.
‘Oscar, you don’t have to lie to me.’ He said cautiously, worried that if he said the wrong thing, Oscar would shut down and kick him out. Oscar’s smile faltered.
‘There’s nothing to lie about. I’m fine.’ Oscar turned away from Lando, picking a hoodie from the floor.
‘Oscar.’ Lando implored, taking a step forward, mindful of the clothes on the floor. He watched as Oscar’s hands shook where they were gripping the jumper.
‘Oscar.’ He tried again. ‘You’re allowed to be disappointed. You’re allowed to feel bad. You don’t have to keep it all in, not with me. I understand.’ Lando added the last bit on in a whisper as painful memories of past failings flooded his mind.
Oscar’s back was still facing Lando but that didn’t stop him from surging forward when Oscar dropped the hoodie.
Oscar’s whole body shook with silent sobs as Lando bundled him up in his arms, guiding him to sit on the bed. He could feel the collar of his shirt grow wet with tears from how Oscar had pressed his face into Lando’s neck.
Lando rubbed his hands up and down Oscar’s body in a way that he hoped was comforting. Despite this being his third season of being the senior driver, this was his first time having to comfort the younger man and he was unsure of how to go about it.
He had never seen Oscar cry. Ever. He had seen him frustrated, upset, angry, but he had never seen the younger man cry. Oscar was always steady and sure of himself in ways that Lando had never been. That didn’t mean he didn’t struggle because every F1 driver struggled and anyone who told you otherwise is a liar, but he was so good at pushing those struggles away so they didn’t affect him.
In fact, the only time he could remember hearing Oscar talk about his struggles in F1 outside of PR answers for media questions was following the Zandvoort Grand Prix last year and Williams’ frankly disrespectful dumping of Sargeant. Lando had never thought all that much about the American driver, but he and Oscar had been friends from childhood. He was often compared to Oscar as they were the 2 rookies who survived their first season in f1.
Oscar had dragged him into his driver room during the break between FP3 and qualifying. Even though it wasn’t confirmed until later, the rumours about Sargeant’s imminent firing were swirling around the paddock. Oscar had invited his friend to talk about their careers and had let Lando sit in for the conversation.
Oscar had mentioned the treatment he had endured while a reserve driver for Alpine and Sargeant had talked about the abuse he had received from the media for his performance and the negligence from Williams in favour of Alex.
Lando remembered how Alex had spent hours complaining about Williams’ biased treatment of their drivers following Australia qualifying last year and Vowles’ order to give Sargeant’s car to Alex following his crash in free practice. Alex had insisted that he would let his teammate race in his own car rather than take it from him when it was his own fault that he crashed.
Now he had Oscar sobbing in his arms as the rain beat rhythmically on the roof outside. He could hear Oscar manage out a few words between sobs, words that sounded like ‘failure’, ‘disappointment’ and ‘mistake’. Lando pressed gentle kisses into the younger’s hair, forgoing the careful line he kept between them to prevent himself from falling too far for his teammate.
‘You did so well Osc,’ He whispered into the Australian’s hair as soothingly as he could. ‘You did so well, you made them all proud.’ Oscar shook his head against Lando’s collar, his words muffled by how close he was pressed in.
‘Osco, dear, you’re gonna have to speak up for me.’ Lando had no idea where dear came from but it was too late to take back now. He let Oscar pull away slightly so they could talk better.
‘I failed them, Lando,’ Oscar sobbed. ‘I could have won. They wanted me to win. And instead I fucked it all up. Barely even finished in the points in the fastest car.’ The last part came out incredibly bitter and filled with a self-hatred Lando didn’t even know Oscar was capable of.
‘That’s not true Oscar. You didn’t fail them.’ Lando stroked Oscar’s swoopy hair that he was so fond of. Oscar shook his head.
‘I did.’
‘No. You didn’t. Any other driver would have given up. I would have given up. But you didn’t. You got out of the grass and you finished the race. Hell, you even beat Lewis Hamilton. In a Ferrari.’
‘The Ferraris aren’t the fastest car.’ Oscar objected weakly.
‘Don’t think that matters as much when he’s a 7-time World Champion.’ Lando insisted. ‘I saw that overtake Osc, it was insane.’
Oscar chuckled wetly, wiping his eyes.
‘I promise you, Osc. All of them out there, they are all so proud of you.’ Lando kissed Oscar’s head again, unable to resist despite the precarious position it could put him in should Oscar figure out. ‘And they’ll be proud of you regardless of how this season goes.’
‘You are loved Oscar, you shouldn’t let one mistake convince you otherwise.’ Lando soothed. ‘Besides, you still have, what? 2 more home races that you can win.’ He added on as a joke.
Oscar laughed despite himself.
‘Yep. Next week.’ His voice still betrayed how much he had been crying but the tears had stopped flowing now.
‘Atta boy.’ He flicked Oscar on the nose cheekily. ‘You might have to fist-fight Charles for Monaco though.’
‘I think Charles would rather die than let anyone else win Monaco again.’
‘I’m sure he can make an exception for his son.’ Lando teased. Charles had warmed up significantly to the Australian following the adoption joke on Twitter. It made Lando happy to see Oscar get along with his friends. Especially seeing as all the drivers that had joined with Oscar were no longer on the grid.
Oscar was smiling now. Lando used the back of his hand to attempt to wipe away the tear tracks from Oscar’s face. He pointedly did not acknowledge the intimate position they were in. He was sitting on Oscar’s bed with the younger driver practically sprawled in his lap, head resting against his chest and neck.
‘Feeling better now Mr Pastry?’ Oscar giggled at the name, his laughs vibrating through Lando’s skin.
‘Yeah. I guess.’
‘I guess? I guess!? Is that all you have to say?’ Lando demanded, faking outrage. Oscar’s shoulders shook with laughter.
‘Fine. I feel a lot better now Mr Norris. Thank you very dearly for your service.’ Oscar said, sarcasm colouring his voice. Lando rolled his eyes.
‘Something tells me you’re humouring me Osc.’ Lando ruffled Oscar’s hair, grinning at the way his face scrunched his nose in annoyance. Oscar tilted his head up to look at Lando and oh-
Lando had been enraptured by how pretty Oscar was since they had first met in person, but with the younger pressed against his chest, looking up at him with the remnants of tears still in his eyes, Lando was almost certain this could count as a religious experience.
His eyes softened and his mind filled thoughts about what it would be like to kiss those wet lips. He could imagine how soft they would be.
‘Lando?’
Lando jerked slightly. He had been so lost in his thoughts about Oscar’s pretty lips that he hadn’t noticed himself unconsciously leaning down. Oscar’s face was so much closer than it had been before and Lando swore he could count every mole and freckle on the Australian’s face.
‘You good there, Lan?’ Lando blushed at the nickname. Oscar didn’t use them as often as he did and he had made it his mission to treasure every time he did use them in his heart.
‘Uh- Yep, all good Osc.’ He stuttered, still not pulling away. Oscar huffed.
The younger boy hesitated for a moment, glancing away to the side. He then twisted in Lando’s hold, a hand coming up to wrap around the back of Lando’s neck and pulled him down.
‘Osc-’ Lando goes to ask but is cut off when soft lips press against his.
Oh.
Oscar’s lips were as soft as he thought them to be.
Lando fumbled for a second, still processing what was happening. Oscar was kissing him. Oscar was kissing him. He was kissing Oscar.
Lando was pretty sure he just spontaneously combusted.
The moment Oscar pulled away Lando was already mourning the loss of connection. Oscar’s eyelashes fluttered as he gazed up at the Brit.
‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have.’ Oscar began to move away from Lando, embarrassed by his impulsive actions. Lando surged into action, pulling Oscar close to him again and pressed his lips firmly against his.
Oscar was clearly surprised by his actions, but recovered a lot quicker than Lando had the first time, eagerly kissing him back. Lando was an experienced kisser and he could tell that Oscar wasn’t, but that didn’t change that this was the best goddamn kiss he had ever had. All because it was Oscar.
He wanted to keep kissing Oscar forever, but eventually they did have to pull away, breathless and laughing.
‘Is this a good time to mention I’ve had a crush on you since our first season together?’ Lando asked, running a hand through his curls. Oscar shook his head fondly.
‘Only if it’s a good time to mention I’ve had a crush on you for four years.’ He shot back. Lando spluttered.
‘Four years? And you never told me?’ He demanded.
‘It’s embarrassing.’ Oscar protested, ‘And I didn’t think you liked me back.’
‘You muppet! You absolute muppet!’ Lando dissolved into laughter, Oscar joining him easily. All the worries from the race melted away as they laughed in each other's arms. Lando was the first to sober up.
‘I’m sorry about your race Oscar. I really am.’ Oscar’s smile faded slightly but he didn’t stop Lando. ‘But I think, ah- I know, that you will come back from it stronger than ever. I believe in you.’
‘Thanks Lan. That means a lot from you.’ Oscar tilted his head fondly. ‘I’ll get you back in Silverstone.’
‘You wish!’
They sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Lando moved back on the bed, allowing Oscar to scramble up beside him.
‘So,’ He ventured, breaking the silence. ‘Boyfriends?’
Oscar grinned at him.
‘Boyfriends.’