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Oscar was fuming. If he were a comic book character, he’d have steam blowing out of his ears and an angry dip between his eyebrows. If he were a comic book character, they hopefully wouldn’t have drawn the angry tears that were currently glistening in his eyes.
He had just finished packing his stuff from his driver‘s room and was now on his way through the paddock to the parking lot, when he spotted dark blue and fiery red in between the motorhomes.
Oscar stopped in his tracks to watch Max softly caressing Charles‘ face, a look of pain and anger evident in the Dutchman’s eyes. He’d clearly go to war for Charles if that meant Ferrari would build him a championship-winning car. Then Charles squeezed Max‘s shoulder in a loving manner while speaking softly to the Red Bull driver, probably words of encouragement, that Red Bull would bounce back next year, that they would be ready to tackle the new regulations, that there was hope. Both men had had a horrible race at Silverstone today after all, even with vastly different positions to show. Oscar almost felt bad for being so caught up in his own pity. Almost.
Watching both of his partners be so caring and soft with each other made Oscar‘s heart clench. While he was glad that they found comfort in each other, he felt a pang of loneliness at the same time. Not that he would recommend himself to console anyone. He didn’t even give them the chance to seek him out; he had done his best to stay undercover since the end of the press conference. But still, seeing the two fall into familiar habits without him hurt.
Oscar let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and made his way to the parking lot to quickly unlock his rental Mercedes and drive himself to the hotel. Being alone would help him clear his head.
*
After a scorching hot shower, Oscar put on one of Charles‘ worn Nahmias shirts and cuddled into bed. Unfortunately, his mind was still reeling, his heart still racing, and his hand flexed anxiously toward his phone. Why did he have to receive such a harsh penalty?! It was unfair. He would have won, hadn’t he received it. He should have won! Moaning over P2 made Oscar feel like a failure, but he just couldn’t let it go.
When his phone buzzed, Oscar was quickly pulled out of his downward spiral and looked at the screen.
Charles: "Osc, where are you?"
Reading the message in the group chat Oscar had with Max and Charles pulled at his heart. What a shitty partner he was, not even letting them know he fled the scene. No wonder they didn’t seek him out for comfort.
Oscar: "Hi Charlie, hi Maxie. I’m already at the hotel, think I’m getting sick.
And I’m sorry about both your races, you deserved more."
Oscar quickly tapped out his messages before muting his phone completely and putting it on his nightstand. His boys, if he could even call them "his," wouldn’t question him further anyway. They had each other and didn’t need him. Oscar rolled his own eyes at his jealous and self-deprecating thoughts, but he just couldn’t stop them. If he was going to be a sore loser, he’d do it right.
*
The next morning, Oscar woke up with a crick in his neck and a sore throat. Well done, Piastri, can’t manifest a race win but can call a cold into existence from scratch.
A quick look at his phone showed Oscar that it was barely 8 in the morning. He also saw Max‘ and Charles‘ heart emojis as responses to his message from yesterday, which he chose to ignore for now. Instead, he quickly checked his weekend itinerary to confirm what he had already thought: if he got ready quickly, he would be just in time to hop on the 10 AM flight to Monaco that McLaren had booked him, not knowing that he originally had wanted to fly with Charles and Max.
Oscar quickly sent a message to his assistant, letting her know he would get on the flight but would need an airport transfer too, before rushing through his hotel room to collect all his personal items and clothes. His thoughts were both painfully quiet and unbearably loud. He hated it.
Only once Oscar’s bag was packed and he had less than five minutes to spare before his ride arrived did he finally open the group chat again. Staring at the name "the boys ❤️💙🧡," he tried to come up with something to say, but it wasn’t easy. He felt lonely and jealous all at once, and worse, he knew it was a situation he could have easily avoided if he had just joined Charles and Max during their quiet conversation in the paddock yesterday. With a sigh, Oscar clicked into the chat and started to type.
Oscar: "Taking an early flight McLaren booked me. Think I’m gonna see a doctor in Monaco. Talk later."
Oscar was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to see a doctor for his scratchy throat, but it was the only excuse he could make up. A ping from his phone notified him of the arrival of his Uber.
*
Boarding the flight, Oscar was incredibly thankful to find out he was sitting beside his race engineer, Tom, and not some random stranger. He liked Tom and was quietly hoping he’d stay silent for the entire flight.
Of course, Tom didn’t. Tough luck. Fifteen minutes in, he broke the silence, and not very gracefully.
“Are you still upset about P2?” Tom asked.
Oscar could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“Of course I am. It was unnecessary to come in second.”
“You’re still leading the championship though.”
“Barely,” Oscar laughed humourlessly.
“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Oscar. At the start of the season, no one knew what you were really capable of and look at you now. We’ll win Spa and extend the lead together!”
“Mhm,” was all Oscar could return.
“That’s not all, is it?” Tom questioned and turned to look at Oscar with a worried facial expression. “Talk to me.”
“I’m sure you don’t want to hear me complain more, Tom. Just leave me to it. Sorry for being a bad flight neighbour.”
“Hey, none of that,” Tom chastised Oscar and carefully patted his knee. “You tell me what’s upsetting you so much.”
It was embarrassing how easily Oscar opened up to his race engineer. Tom only had to ask a couple of times, and Oscar would start sharing his deepest feelings. Almost, at least.
“I think I’m not a good team player,” Oscar finally confessed.
“What do you mean? The team loves working with you!”
“No, I mean outside of racing. I don’t think I’m particularly good at it.”
Tom stayed silent for a minute. “Are you talking about your girlfriend?”
That misconception almost made Oscar smile. “Something like that, yes. Sometimes I’m so caught up in my own head that I forget to look after others, even if they’re important to me.”
“That sucks, mate,” Tom nodded. “But we’ve all been there. Nobody is perfect. And you’re leading the championship for the first time in your career, which must be absolutely nervewracking. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
“But not everything should be about me! And by being a jealous partner and sore loser, I feel like I’m making it about me more than I deserve. I wouldn’t want to be with me either,” Oscar mumbled the last part.
“Osc, look at me,” Tom said and took Oscar’s hand in both of his. “Talk to her. Or whoever you need to talk to. It’s always better than letting it fester. You’re driven and passionate, but you’re not selfish. Clear the air. It’ll be okay.”
*
Back in his flat, all Oscar did was drop off his luggage, take a quick shower, and grab the spare key to Max’s apartment that he had been given a few months ago. He had to go there and wait for his boys before he could chicken out. Plus, if he liked to cuddle with Jimmy and Sassy, that was his business. They wouldn’t kiss and tell their dad anyway. The little monsters loved to pretend they didn’t care about Oscar when Max was around.
At the entrance of Max’s flat, Oscar was immediately greeted by the loud and impatient meows of Max’s Bengal cats. Oscar truly had never heard cats make such a fuss before, but he was also helplessly endeared by the fact that the cats were certified yappers just like their dad.
Oscar’s first move was to feed the two cats, then he got himself a Red Bull Summer Edition out of the fridge, sue him, and laid down on the couch. It didn’t take more than ten minutes for Sassy to get comfy near his flank and for Jimmy to settle down by his feet, both instantly starting to purr like little machines. Waiting for a difficult conversation could be worse.
*
Oscar woke later that afternoon to soft touches in his hair that sent immediate shivers down his spine, making him nestle deeper into the cushions.
„Oscar“, a voice whispered carefully but it didn’t register with his brain.
„Oscar, darling, wake up.“
After a couple more moments of fighting being awake, Oscar submitted to his fate and fluttered his eyes. The sight he woke up to made him smile instantly. Max was crouching next to the couch, one hand in Oscar‘s hair, the other balancing Max‘s weight on the carpet.
„There you are“, Max smiled softly at the Aussie. „How are you feeling?“
„Hmm?“, was all Oscar could return.
„Still feeling sick?“, Max continued and moved his hand to Oscar‘s forehead to feel his temperature. „I don’t think you have a fever at least.“
„M‘okay“, Oscar mumbled. He felt guilty for forcing Max to fuss over him like a child. „Where is Charles?“
„He‘s picking up Leo from the dog sitter, should be here in thirty.“
Oscar nodded and started to feel the familiar but rare tug in his throat that announced he was about to cry. Fighting hard to stop it from happening, Oscar turned away from Max and curled into a tight little ball.
„Scooch over, baby“, Max whispered and managed to get on the couch behind Oscar, successfully trapping him between his chest and the backrest. Thankfully the cats had already wandered off or else they would have been outraged.
Oscar couldn’t quite hold in the guilt and shame towards his partner anymore while at the same time the pain from coming in second burned deeper than ever and before he knew it, a sob escaped his throat. Oscar squeezed his eyes shut tightly in an attempt to stop the tears from escaping, to no avail.
Max determinedly snaked both his arms around the young Aussie and squeezed him tight. At the same time he buried his face into the back of Oscar’s neck and softly kissed the skin there. Oscar only started to cry harder.
Eventually Oscar managed to speak what had been on his mind since yesterday. „I’m sorry. I‘m so sorry.“
„Sorry for what?“
„For not asking how you were yesterday. Or Charles. I‘m sorry.“
„Oscar, it’s okay. You don’t have to look after us 24/7“, Max tried to assure him.
„But I didn’t look after you at all!“, Oscar sobbed once again. „You and Charles had a shitty race and all I did was sulk in my own penalty. A penalty which probably was deserved nonetheless!“
„Baby you did look after us. I saw you in the paddock between the motorhomes. You first made sure Charles and I had each other, then you left. You texted us to let us know where you were so we wouldn’t worry. And you know what?“
„What?“
„Turn around, Osc.“
Oscar did as he was told and turned around but immediately hid his face in Max‘s shoulder.
„Don’t hide“, the Dutchman immediately clocked his tactics and softly forced Oscar to look at him. „The only thing that made me angry yesterday wasn’t you. It wasn’t even the trashcan of a Red Bull car I had to drive. I was angry at myself because I didn’t follow you to the hotel. That I honestly believed that you needed time to yourself and would come to us when you’re ready, when instead we could have all forgotten about that shitty race by spending time together. I‘m the one who’s sorry for not looking after you, darling.“
That made Oscar sniffle once more, and he pushed his face back into Max’s neck, and this time, Max let him. He carefully stroked Oscar’s back and let him breathe into Max’s strong, familiar neck. Oscar didn’t really know what to feel. On the one hand, he felt relieved that Max, and hopefully Charles too, weren’t angry with him. On the other hand, he still felt guilty and undeserving of Max’s affection. Still, he clung to the comfort of being near Max.
“Max?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I will win the championship?”
That question made Max chuckle. “Of course I do. I don’t date losers”, Max added matter-of-factly.
Oscar giggled. “But Charles isn’t a champion either and you obviously date him?”
Max smiled. “Not yet a champion, but I’m 100% sure he will be one day. And so will you.”
This answer seemed to finally settle the storm inside Oscar’s heart. If Max believed he could do it, then he could too. And he would, preferably this season even.
Oscar carefully extracted himself from Max’s hug, and for the first time that day he dared to look into his boyfriend’s beautiful blue eyes. After studying them for a second he dove in and pressed a long overdue kiss on Max’s lovely mouth. The Dutchman didn’t waste a second to press his entire body close to Oscar’s and kissed back passionately. Oscar should have done this sooner; it would have quieted his thoughts like nothing else.
Like that, the two spent some time making out. It wasn’t leading anywhere, except sharing some much needed closeness and warmth.
Suddenly, their moment was rudely interrupted by keys turning in the lock, followed by a sharp bark. In no time, a tiny beige dog was yapping right next to their cozy spot on the couch. Max and Oscar sat up, and Max didn’t waste a second before scooping up Leo and kissing his soft little forehead. Oscar felt his heart almost melt at the sight. Then, a hand gently lifted his own chin, and his gaze met Charles’. He had to swallow hard.
“Hey”, Oscar croaked.
“Mon amour”, Charles retorted and brushed his hand through Oscar’s wavy fringe. “Are you okay?”
“I am now”, Oscar smiled carefully and averted his eyes. “I’m sorry about your race. And I’m sorry for not being there for you yesterday-”
“Hey, none of that! It’s okay, I saw your interviews, bébé. You were upset too.”
“Still. I want you to know that you are the most important thing in my life. Always”
“I know that, Osc, and so are you”, Charles smiled and then looked at Max. “And you.”
Oscar smiled to himself. He wanted to win the championship so badly, but he knew he’d been unbelievably lucky with his boyfriends; maybe his luck needed to catch its breath before the title came his way. He felt the urge to tell them that, like never before.
“I love you”, Oscar whispered looking at his hands, so silently he almost didn’t even hear himself. But then he looked Charles in the eyes and repeated: “I love you.”
A moment later he looked at Max and caressed his stubbly cheek: “I love you.”
Although Oscar had known for a while that he had been in love with his two competitors, his best friends, his lovers; he never thought it would be so easy to say out loud.
“I love you too, Oscar”, Max said with the crinkliest eyes Oscar had ever seen him make. Then Max took the hand the younger man had rested on his cheek and kissed his open palm without ever breaking eye contact. Oscar thought his heart should be beating faster and faster, but instead it seemed so comfortable that it slowed down. He felt so loved.
Then Charles touched the hair in Oscar’s neck to get his attention. Oscar looked over to the beautiful Monegasque man next to him and smiled. He really was a lucky bastard.
Charles closed his fist behind Oscar’s head and pulled him closer until their lips met. There was nothing soft about the kiss, instead it was all want and need. They kissed with their lips, their tongues, their teeth, and Oscar wouldn’t have it any other way. He too gripped Charles’ hair slightly and changed the angle to kiss him even deeper. He could do this all day, kissing his boys.
When Charles let go of Oscar, Oscar looked up to the brunette and noticed his dilated pupils and flushed lips. A striking and utterly lovely combination.
Charles quickly smiled at Max, before fixating on Oscar once more, taking his face in both of his hands. “I love you, mon amour.”
Oscar smiled. All the pieces had fallen in the right place.
“My boys”, Max commented, looking at his boyfriends lovestricken.
“My boys”, Charles and Oscar confirmed at the same time and giggled.
“Let’s go to bed”, the youngest of the trio decided and then smirked. “I made the stupid decision to sleep by myself last night, I think I need to catch up.”