Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Lando

The Silverstone paddock was buzzing with different individuals. From the celebrities taking pictures with the teams to mechanics shouting instructions to the fans cheering from the barriers. Lando felt the noise in his bones, this wasn`t just another race on the calendar, it was his home race. He inhaled and exhaled, letting the chants weave through him. He remembered when he was a little kid, coming to this track and wanting to race on it someday, in front of his fans. And now he was a driver, the air shifted when he arrived. Cameras tilted, fans pressed forward trying to take a picture with him and the usual hum of the paddock swelled into something electric.
But for Lando, it was more than noise. It was belonging which wasn`t something that came very easily to him. And the pressure too, a tightness in his ribs he wouldn`t admit to anyone when they asked how he was going to perform this weekend. He hated that question, he wished they never ask him that.

"Hey, are you still daydreaming? that donut is going to waste" Daniel Riccardo nudges his elbow which wakes him up from his trance.

"Huh?" Lando snaps out of his trance when Daniel steals his donut and eats it. "Hey, I was going to eat that" he smacks Daniel`s arm.

"Ow, that hurt, you don`t have to be so harsh, get another one" Daniel whines, Lando rolls his eyes.

"Why didn`t you just get one on your way here?" Daniel tries to steal another one but Lando swats his hand away.

"Go away you muppet" Lando moves his plate away.

"Oh come on, why are you in a mood?" Daniel asks, licking off the icing from his previous donut.

"I`m not in a mood, I`m just anxious" Lando says, Daniel moves his chair closer.

"Hey, you know you can talk to me about anything right?" Daniel says, Lando smiles at him.

Daniel has been Lando`s teammate for a couple of years now. When Carlos announced that he was leaving McLaren to join Ferrari, Lando was very sad about it, he thought he`d never be close to any of his teammates ever again. Danny Ric came along and they became really good friends. Lando respected him a lot, he had been in the sport longer and he was older. Plus, he understood Lando which was very difficult, no one understood Lando, but Daniel did. Looking back at how long they`ve been teammates for, it still felt like yesterday when Daniel walked into the McLaren headquarters for the first time and met the team.

"Yeah yeah, It`s nothing, I`ve gotta go get ready, see you out there" Lando stood up, Daniel engulfed him in a hug, Lando didn`t resist.

"Stop bitching, I had a feeling you needed that" Daniel smiled as Lando tried to pull away.

"Ugh, you`re so sappy, goodbye" Lando tackled Daniel into the table and attacked his hair, Daniel laughed.

"Hey! you messed my hair up, you`ll pay for it" Daniel chased Lando around, Lando shrieked and sprinted into his room.

............

The grid lined up to start the race, Lando managed to scrap up p3 yesterday at qualifying, the lights went out and the race began. At the Stowe corner, Lando could see his stand, his fans cheering him on, all dressed in their neon green graphic tees, Lando smiled. Maybe this won`t be so bad after all.

Lando took P3 at Silverstone. A positive result and a podium.

The podium ceremony was a blur of champagne, flashing cameras, and roaring fans. Lando felt a rush of pride standing there, P3 at his home Grand Prix. It wasn’t the win he had dreamed of as a kid, but it was still his best Silverstone result yet, and that mattered. Daniel clapped him on the back, laughing as he squirted a little champagne in Lando’s direction.

As the crowd dispersed and the paddock emptied, Lando let himself breathe. The adrenaline lingered, but underneath it was something quieter — a need to clear his head, to find a little normalcy after the chaos of the weekend. Tomorrow he decided he would go for a run. Just him, the open air, and no camera, no microphones, no fans, a chance to feel the world outside the paddock again.

He smiled to himself, tugging on his hoodie.

.................

Lando got up at 6:00am, he changed into something comfy, put on his air pods and left his apartment for his run. The morning air was crisp, carrying a faint smell of dew and freshly cut grass. Lando loved running, it helped him keep his mind clear. No cameras, no fans, no paddock chaos — just him and the rhythm of his footsteps. He inhaled deeply, letting the cool air fill his lungs, and for the first time since the podium, he felt completely… normal.

Around the next corner, he saw a lone jogger ahead. Ordinary, focused, headphones in. Lando smiled. It was nice to see someone else enjoying the morning.

And then he tripped.

It was no shock, Lando was clumsy.

Arms flailing, Lando tumbled forward… and in his momentum, he accidentally collided with the jogger. Both of them went down in a graceless heap on the pavement.

"Fuck! what is wrong with me" Lando winced, he moves quickly when he hears someone groan under him.

"Oh my god, I`m so sorry, are you okay?" Lando gasped, trying to sit up but failing.

"I...I`m fine, I think" the stranger stammered. He rolled Lando onto his back and stood up, brushing himself off before lending Lando a hand.

"Oh my god, you`re bleeding, are you concussed?" Lando touches the bruise, the stranger flinched.

"Mhmm, I`m fine, I`ve survived worse than this really, are you okay?" the stranger asks.

"Yes, I`m so sorry, I really need to watch where I`m going more" Lando muttered, clearly flustered, stepping back and almost tripping himself.

"Woah! careful!" the stranger catches him.

"Today`s really not my day huh?!" Lando laughed nervously. The stranger gives him a sheepish smile.

"I`m Lando" he extends his hand.

"Oscar" the stranger says, he smiles at Lando and Lando smiled back.

Chapter Text

Oscar’s iPhone beeped, vibrating against the nightstand. He stirred, groaning as he reached for it — only to be yanked back down by an arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He tried again, but the man beside him whined and buried his face between Oscar’s shoulder blades.

Two minutes.
Oscar gave him exactly two minutes.

If there was one thing Oscar Piastri hated, it was clingy people.
Actually… no.
He hated people in general. Clingy ones just topped the list.

The stranger snuggled even closer, nose brushing the back of Oscar’s neck, warm breath ghosting over his skin.

Yeah. That was it.

Oscar politely pried the arm off and sat up.

“Hey… where are you going?” the stranger mumbled, hair sticking up in every direction.

Oscar checked his notifications:
— A text from Mum
— A missed call from Hattie
— A scheduled FaceTime with Dad later

He sighed. Busy day.

“I have to get to work,” Oscar said, dropping his phone onto the duvet.

“Right now?” the guy blinked at him.

“Yes. Do you need a ride?” Oscar asked, because yes, he was grumpy — but he wasn’t heartless.

“Yeah, but…” The stranger slid closer again, arms looping around Oscar’s waist as he pressed a lingering kiss to his neck. “How about one more round before I leave?”

Oscar closed his eyes for a beat.
Yes, it was tempting.
But also… no.

“As fun as that would be, I really have to go. Today’s a big day.” He gently pushed him off again.

The stranger sighed dramatically. “Ugh. Fine. Can I use your bathroom?”

“Knock yourself out,” Oscar said, pointing toward the door.

“Thanks.” The man kissed him quickly on the lips before disappearing inside.

Oscar exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

Clingy. Way too clingy.
This had been meant to be a one-night stand — uncomplicated, forgettable, transactional.

He wouldn’t lie: the guy had been a good lay.
Good enough that Oscar might consider a second time, and that never happened.

But as he sat there alone in the quiet, Oscar already felt the answer forming in his chest.

Probably not.

...........

Oscar took a quick shower, dressed, grabbed his apron, his bag, and his keys, then opened the front door and waited for the stranger to follow.

“Got everything?” Oscar asked.

“Yup.” The guy nodded, far too chipper for someone who’d spent half the morning clinging to him.

Oscar locked the door to his apartment, pocketed his keys, and they headed down the stairs together in silence. They got into his car, and Oscar turned up the radio just enough to avoid conversation.

He dropped the man off at a block of apartments twenty minutes away.

“Thanks, handsome,” the stranger said with a wink.

Oscar gave him a tight, rushed smile. “No problem.”

“Can we do this again sometime?” The guy’s hand slid onto Oscar’s thigh, fingers tracing patterns.

Oscar tensed. “Uh… I’ll think about it.”
He gently pushed the hand away.

“I left my number on your bedside table,” the stranger added before hopping out of the car.

Oscar nodded once, not committing to anything, and pulled away from the curb.

The moment the guy disappeared in his rear view mirror, Oscar exhaled — long, tired, relieved.

One-night stands were supposed to be simple.

This one… definitely wasn’t.

.........

Oscar parked behind Roux & Co, the back alley already humming with early deliveries — crates of produce, bags of flour, a stack of fish still glistening with ice. He stepped out of the car, slung his apron over his shoulder, and felt the familiar shift happen in his chest.

Outside this place, everything was noise.
Inside it, Oscar didn’t have to be anything except good at his job.

He pushed open the back door.

The kitchen hit him instantly — warmth from the ovens, the sharp scent of onions, the metallic clatter of knives against cutting boards.

“Morning, sunshine!” Maya called from her station, far too cheerful.

Oscar hung his bag in his locker. “You’re all too loud.”

“That’s rude,” she said. “Even for you.”

Oscar didn’t respond. Rude was part of his charm. Or so people kept telling him.

Chef Laurent appeared, already stressed. “Piastri! You’re on prep. We’re low-staffed because someone decided to get food poisoning.”

“He shouldn’t have eaten those oysters,” Oscar replied.

Laurent glared. “Less commentary. More chopping.”

Oscar washed his hands, grabbed a knife, and got to work. Clean, precise cuts. Quiet, steady breathing. Routine. It grounded him.
But today… something was off.

His mind kept drifting — not to last night, not to the clingy guy’s number sitting uselessly on his bedside table.

No. To the day before,

To curls.
To dimples.
To a flustered British accent saying, “Are you okay?”

He sliced an onion a bit too aggressively.

Maya raised a brow. “Woah. That onion owes you money or something?”

Oscar ignored her and dumped the chopped pieces into a container.

“You’re jumpy today,” she pressed. “Did someone annoy you? Oh wait — that’s every day.”

“Maya, shut up” Oscar said slowly, “please stop talking.”

She snorted and moved to the next station.

Oscar wiped his knife on a cloth, trying to shake the weird feeling building in his chest. It wasn’t nerves. He didn’t get nerves.

And he never thought about a guy this way.

He never meant to think about Lando again.

He definitely hadn’t meant to picture him — flushed, breathless, apologising over him on the pavement.

And what pained him most was that he might never see Lando again. He ran off before Oscar could ask him any more questions. London was a big city, the chances of them running into each other again was very slim.

Oscar exhaled sharply, focusing on the basil leaves he was tearing.

Work.
Stay in the routine.
Block everything else out.

He was good at that.

At least… he used to be.

........

The day slipped by faster than Oscar expected. Later that afternoon, Chef Laurent called him into her office. Oscar didn’t know what to expect; when she called his name, Maya laughed and pointed at him, saying he was in trouble. Oscar gulped and walked into her office.

“You called for me?” Oscar said. Chef Laurent signaled for him to take a seat.

“How are you?” she asked. Oscar’s hands were sweaty.

“I’m…I’m great, thanks for asking,” Oscar replied.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you,” she said.

“Yes, Chef,” Oscar replied. She handed him a pamphlet.

“I got a job offer in France,” she announced. Oscar’s eyes widened.

“Is this the Bel Canto Paris?” Oscar asked.

“Yes, Oscar.” She smiled at him.

“Chef, oh my god—congratulations!” Oscar said, beaming.

“Thank you,” she replied. “This is where you ask where you come in.”

“Yes—oh, yes, I was going to ask that,” Oscar said, fidgeting with his watch.

“I need someone reliable and competent to take over as head chef while I’m in France,” she said. Oscar’s eyes widened again.

“Yes, we have a lot of people who are responsible enough to take over…let’s see, uh, Ethan, Grace, Kennedy, Maya—she can be a bit childish sometimes, but she’s a good chef—” Oscar rambled.

“Oscar!”

He stopped talking immediately.

“I called you here because I want you to take over,” she announced.

“Me? I’m getting a promotion?” Oscar asked.

“Yes. You’ve been under me the longest, and I’ve seen you lead the team. You know your way around the kitchen, so the job is yours,” Chef Laurent said.

Oscar gulped. “Thank you, Chef. This is a big opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

“You better not,” she teased. “You start next Monday. Congratulations, Chef.” She extended her hand, and Oscar took it, smiling.
.........

Oscar stepped out of Chef Laurent’s office still holding the pamphlet like it might burst into flames. His heart was pounding, his palms were sweating, and he swear he was walking differently — like he suddenly had responsibility lodged in his spine.

Maya spun around the moment she saw him.

“Well? How much trouble are you in? Do we have to say goodbye? Should I start planning the funeral?” she asked dramatically, wiping an imaginary tear.

“I’m… not in trouble,” Oscar said, trying to keep the smile off his face.

Ethan looked up from chopping onions. “You look like you either won the lottery or got dumped. Which one is it?”

Oscar took a breath. “Actually, Chef Laurent just told me she got a job offer in France.”

The room went silent.

Grace gasped. “She’s leaving us?!”

Kennedy froze mid-stir. “Who’s taking over?”

Maya pointed at herself proudly. “Obviously me. I’ve been preparing my entire life for this moment. I already have a speech—”

“It’s me,” Oscar blurted.

Maya dropped her spoon. Ethan stopped chopping. Grace’s jaw fell open.

“You?!” Maya shouted, louder than necessary. “No offence, but YOU?!”

“Thanks, Maya,” Oscar muttered.

“No, like—yay for you, obviously,” she corrected, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “But YOU?! HEAD CHEF?!”

Oscar shrugged sheepishly. “She said I’ve been here the longest. And that I know my way around the kitchen.”

Kennedy smirked. “I mean… he does. And he’s not half bad at yelling when he needs to.”

“I do not yell,” Oscar protested.

“Bro, you yelled at me for slicing tomatoes horizontally,” Ethan reminded him.

“BECAUSE YOU DON’T SLICE THEM THAT WAY.”

“See?” Ethan whispered, pointing at him.

Maya let out a dramatic sigh, then threw her arms up around him in a tight hug. “Ugh, fine. I’m proud of you. But if you turn into a bossy nightmare, I will personally drown you in the dish sink.”

Oscar laughed. “Duly noted.”

Grace stepped forward, smiling softly. “Congratulations, Chef.”

The title hit him again — Chef. His chest warmed.

“Thanks,” Oscar said quietly. “I… really appreciate it.”

The kitchen burst into cheers and chaotic applause. Maya accidentally knocked over a stack of bowls. Ethan fist-bumped him with a hand still covered in onion juice. Kennedy saluted him with a ladle like he’d just been knighted.

And for the first time since he’d walked into that office, Oscar let himself fully smile.

….....

Oscar wiped down the last counter, stacked chairs, and flicked off the ovens. The restaurant was quiet now, the chaos of the day replaced by the soft hum of the refrigerators and the lingering aroma of herbs and roasting garlic. He exhaled, stretching his arms above his head. Another day done.

Just as he reached for his bag, the front door chimed.

Oscar froze.

And there he was.

Lando.

Leaning casually against the doorway, hands in his pockets, hoodie up, that infuriatingly easy grin on his face.

“Hi…” Lando said. Oscar blinked.

“Uh… hello,” Oscar managed, swallowing quickly and choking slightly on his saliva.

“Are you okay? You’ve gone red.” Lando stepped closer.

“I’m fine. I just… need water.” Oscar walked back into the kitchen, popped the cap off his bottle, and drank half of it in one go.

What was he doing here? How was he here? Oscar had been sure he’d never see him again, and yet here he was, looking impossibly good in a hoodie and baggy jeans.

“Are you still in there? Or did you run away?” Lando’s voice pulled him from his trance.

“Still here. Hello again.” Oscar moved to where Lando was leaning against the table.

“Hi. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah… I’ve worked here forever, really. What are you doing here?” Oscar asked.

“I was looking for a place to grab a bite. Just got back from a friend’s, realized I was starving… and you were the only place still open,” Lando explained.

“Well… we’re closed, actually. I was just about to leave.”

“Oh, um, no, it’s fine. I can do with the ramen in my fridge that’s probably older than it should be.”

“No, wait. Stay. I’m sure I can whip something up in ten minutes or less,” Oscar offered.

“I don’t wanna intrude. You’ve been here the whole day and you’re probably exhausted,” Lando protested.

Oscar shook his head. “No. I can’t let you go home to eat expired food. No offense.”

Lando chuckled. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Sit. I’ll be back soon.” Oscar retreated to the kitchen.

Ten minutes later…

“Here you go. Enjoy.” Oscar placed a plate of pasta salad in front of him.

“Wow… this looks amazing. I’m not sure I can eat it now.” Lando’s stomach growled in protest.

“I think your stomach disagrees with you,” Oscar said with a laugh. “Please eat it. If you don’t, it’ll hurt my feelings.”

Lando gave a sheepish smile. “Oh my god… this is so good. What the hell?”

“It’s just a basic recipe,” Oscar replied casually, though he was secretly pleased.

“Where have you been all my life?!” Lando said dramatically, grinning.

Oscar laughed. “I didn’t know it’d be that good—enough to make you quote Rihanna.”

Lando shrugged, still smiling, and finished his food. Oscar washed the plate and stepped out of the kitchen.

“So… what now?” Lando asked.

“Umm… I know a really good coffee shop not too far from here,” Oscar said. “Unless you have somewhere to be, I’d understand.”

“No, I love coffee, and I have nowhere else to be right now,” Lando replied.

“Okay, let’s go then.” Oscar smiled, and Lando returned it. They locked the restaurant and stepped out into the street, talking and laughing as they walked.
.........

The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the day. Oscar kept his hands tucked into his pockets, trying to act nonchalant, though he couldn’t stop stealing glances at Lando. The guy walked beside him with that annoyingly easy grin, hands occasionally gesturing as he talked.

“So… you really work here every day?” Lando asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” Oscar replied, shrugging. “Most of the time I like it. Keeps me sane… mostly.”

“Mostly?” Lando teased. “What happens the other times?”

Oscar smirked faintly. “Chaos, fire, yelling, onions in my eyes… normal stuff.”

Lando laughed, and it was warm, easy, the kind of laugh that made Oscar’s chest tighten for no good reason.

“You make it sound… fun,” Lando said.

“It is fun. Just… don’t expect me to let anyone sneak in for free food,” Oscar warned.

“Noted,” Lando said, mock-saluting. “Though I think I’d make an exception for this chef.”

Oscar’s stomach did a weird little flip. “Chef?” he echoed, half-laughing, half-nervous.

“You,” Lando said simply, meeting his gaze with that grin. “You’re… kind of hard to forget.”

Oscar snorted, shaking his head. “I bet you say that to all the chefs.”

“Maybe,” Lando admitted, still smiling. “But I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a few blocks, the city lights flickering around them. Oscar kept stealing glimpses, trying to read Lando without looking obvious. But Lando… he was too easy to read. Curious, open, a little flustered himself.

When they reached the coffee shop, Oscar held the door open. “After you,” he said, voice slightly uneven.

“Thank you,” Lando replied, and their fingers brushed for the briefest second. The touch was fleeting, but Oscar felt it all the way to his chest.

They ordered their drinks, sat at a small table by the window, and continued talking. Nothing heavy, nothing serious — just easy banter, small jokes, little smiles.

But every so often, Oscar caught himself staring a second too long, or laughing a little too loudly at something Lando said. And every time, Lando caught it. Always with that grin, like he knew.

Oscar sipped his coffee, trying to focus, trying to convince himself this was just a random evening, nothing more.

But deep down… he already knew.

Lando Norris was not going to be easy to forget...

The walk back was quieter, the night cooler now, streetlights reflecting on the damp pavement. Oscar kept his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual, but every so often he brushed against Lando’s arm. Each time, he felt a little spark — subtle, but undeniable.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” Lando teased, falling into step beside him.

“I’m not… quiet,” Oscar said quickly, though his voice gave him away.

Lando smirked. “Right. Totally not quiet. Just… thinking.”

Oscar shot him a sideways glance. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Mm, I like maybe not,” Lando said, nudging his shoulder lightly. The touch was brief, teasing, but Oscar felt it linger longer than it should.

Oscar cleared his throat. “So… thanks for letting me make you food earlier. Hope I didn’t mess it up too badly.”

Lando laughed. “Mess it up? That was amazing. Honestly, I can’t stop thinking about it.” He grinned, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Not just the food, either.”

Oscar felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Oh? Not the food… huh?”

“You know,” Lando said, his tone playful but slightly pointed, “the chef. The guy who made it.”

Oscar tried to keep his expression neutral, but the words hit a little harder than he expected. “Right. The chef,” he muttered, adjusting his jacket.

They walked on in comfortable silence, each step closer than it needed to be. Oscar kept telling himself this was fine, normal even — just a casual walk with someone he barely knew.

But then Lando’s hand brushed his again. This time, Oscar didn’t pull away. He felt the subtle warmth of it, the casual intimacy, and it made his chest tighten.

“You know,” Lando said softly, almost conspiratorially, “I don’t usually meet people like this. But I’m glad I did.”

Oscar swallowed. “Yeah… me too.”

They paused at the corner where their paths diverged. Lando looked at him, eyes warm, teasing, a little vulnerable. “So… see you again soon?”

Oscar hesitated. “Yeah… I think I’d like that.”

Lando grinned. “Good. I’ll hold you to it.”

And with that, he waved, turning down his street, leaving Oscar standing there, heart still racing, and an inexplicable smile on his face.

Oscar took a deep breath, letting the night air calm him. One thing was certain: this was not going to be easy. And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be.

Chapter Text

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since Oscar had last seen Lando- three weeks since the late-night pasta, the coffee shop walk, and the ridiculous flirting he liked to tell himself that he imagined.

And Oscar hated that he knew the exact number of days.

It`s not like he was waiting to see him again or anything. Not at all. He`s been busy, new responsibilities, new menu test, Chef Laurent leaving preparing to leave for Paris. He`d barely had time to breathe, let alone think about a stranger with soft curls and a smile that he was already addicted to.

But still... three weeks.

Not that he was counting...

Oscar groaned into the couch cushions.

Pathetic.

A knock sounded on his door.

"Open up Piastri, I brought snacks!!!" Logan shouted.

Oscar dragged himself up and unlocked his door. Logan pushed inside with a grocery bag, a box of pizza and an energy only Americans seemed capable of carrying at nine at night.

"You look awful" Logan said cheerfully as he dropped the bag and pizza on the counter.

"Thanks mate, you look like you drank three red bulls and ran here."

"Two red bulls actually," Logan corrected him, "and I Ubered"

Oscar rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"So.." Logan said, dramatically plopping onto the couch and patting the seat next to him. "What`s going on with you? You`ve been weird. Weird-er."

Oscar hesitated.

Logan`s brows shot up. "Oh my god, you have news?!"

"Why are you so shocked?" Oscar rolled his eyes.

"Well, I always have news, and no offense Piastri, you have a very boring life" Logan said. Oscar scoffed.

"Excuse you, my life is not boring, I have an awesome job" Oscar said.

"Is that it?" Logan said, Oscar shot him a side eye.

"I have friends" Oscar said.

"Your co-workers don`t count mate, I`m your only friend outside work" Logan said. Oscar was so close to kicking him out of his flat.

"Whatever" Oscar scoffed.

"When was the last time you even got some action?" Logan asked.

"Actually, very recently,,, like" Oscar stopped talking. Oscar hadn`t had sex since that day he met Lando again. That was three weeks ago. Oscar hasn`t gotten laid in three weeks?!

"Like when? Huh?" Logan pushed.

"Three weeks" Oscar mumbled.

"What!!! Damn Osc, that`s not very recent mate" Logan chuckled. Oscar glared at him.

"I`m actually this close to kicking you out, watch your next words very carefully" Oscar said.

"Okay okay, no need to get serious, why though? Thought you said you were a catch" Logan said.

"I don`t know, I haven`t had time" Oscar said.

"Lies, wait, did you meet someone?" Logan asked.

Oscar doesn`t respond.

"Wait, you actually met a human being voluntarily and you`re not actively trying to escape right now. This is big"

Oscar sank back into the couch. "I didn`t say that"

"You didn`t need to ." Logan nudged his shoulder. "Come on, spill. Who is it? What`s he like? Is he hot? Please tell me he`s hot. You deserve hot."

Oscar sighed. "He`s... someone. I met him on a run."

Logan froze. "On a run? YOU? Socially interacting? While exercising? Did you hit your head or something?"

"Actually yes, " Oscar muttered. "He fell on me."

Logan blinked slowly. "...he what?"

Oscar rubbed his forehead. "I went on a run, I was running one second and then someone tripped me over and we tumbled down the hill and he fell on top of me, he was embarrassed and flustered" Oscar smiled to himself at the memory.

"Oh my god, are you smiling? You`re so whipped" Logan wheezes. "Your crush tackled you to meet you"

"He`s not my crush."

"So it`s platonic then, because you don`t smile like this when we do taekwondo every week" Logan said.

"Just shut up, will you?" Oscar took a slice of pizza and ate it.

"What happened after?" Logan asked.

"That`s all I`m telling you" Oscar said.

"What, come on mate, please, I`m already invested, you can`t cut it short now" Logan whined.

"Fine, we met again and I sort of fed him at the restaurant"

"What?! that`s even worse! you cooked for him. That`s intimate. That`s basically foreplay for you"

Oscar threw a pillow at him. Logan cackled.

"So, when`s the next date?" Logan asked, folding his legs on the couch like he was settling in for a gossip show.

"There is no next date," Oscar says. "I haven`t seen him since"

Logan blinked. "Wait, what? How long has it been?"

Oscar muttered something.

"Sorry, didn`t catch that," Logan said, leaning in.

"Three weeks," Oscar snapped.

Logan`s jaw dropped. "THREE WEEKS? And you`re still thinking about him?! Holy shit Oscar, you LIKE-like him"

"I do not"

"You do mate"

"I don`t"

"You absolutely do."

Oscar groaned and sank deeper into the cushions. "He probably forgot that I exist."

Logan softened. "Hey...maybe he didn`t. Maybe he`s busy. Or shy. Or...he fell off another sidewalk. you never know."

"Pavement and that`s not funny"

"It`s a little funny"

Oscar sighed. "It doesn`t matter. it`s just....whatever. A moment"

"Sure," Logan said lightly. "Just a moment."

Oscar didn`t reply.

They both knew he didn`t believe it.

...........

Later that night, after Logan had finally left and the flat was quiet, Oscar stood in the kitchen, hands gripping the edge of the counter. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, but it did little to calm the storm in his chest.

Three weeks.

And it shouldn’t matter this much. It really shouldn`t

And yet, it did.

He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, the memory of curls, a grin, and the warmth of Lando’s laugh pressing against his thoughts.

“I hope I see you again,” he whispers to nobody. the words barely leaving his lips but heavy with everything he wasn’t ready to admit aloud.

Chapter Text

Three weeks on the road felt like a whole year.

Airports, tracks, press conferences, the endless flashing of cameras- Lando loved his job, but sometimes even the adrenaline of a race weekend couldn`t quiet the stupid flutter in his chest every time he accidentally thought of him.

Oscar.

His brown curls, soft eyes and a laugh that kept replaying in his brain at the most inconvenient times.

Lando tugged the zipper of his McLaren jacket higher as he walked through the paddock. Monaco had been chaos, Barcelona had been hot enough to fry an egg on the garage floor, and Austria... Austria had just been a mess of track limits, his engineer yelling in his ear, and Daniel making fun of him whenever he got the chance. And endless staring outside the window, zoning out half of the time.

"Mate," Daniel said, falling into step beside him, "you look like someone stole your favourite hoodie"

"That would require me to have a favourite hoodie," Lando muttered.

"You do. It`s the grey one you wear when you`re sad."

Lando shot him a look. "I don`t have a sad hoodie."

"You absolutely do."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls. "Go away Daniel"

"What`s wrong?" Daniel asked.

"Nothing, I`m fine, Just tired."

"Mhmm." Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Or you`re thinking about the mystery boy again."

"I`m not..."

"You definitely are" Daniel said cheerfully. "You`ve been weird for three weeks. Quiet. Distracted. Smiling at your phone even though nobody`s texting you"

"Wow, thanks."

"and you flinched when a waiter tripped near you yesterday. That`s not normal Lando behaviour."

Lando groaned. "He didn`t just trip, I nearly fell on him, It reminded me of..."

He stopped himself.

Daniel smirked. "Aha. So you were thinking of him."

Lando shoved him lightly. "Shut up."

"Do you have his number yet?"

"No."

"Instagram?"

"No, I don`t even know if he`s on Instagram"

"Surname then?, I`m sure we can find his Instagram handle"

"...Nope"

Daniel stared at him. "Mate, Did you meet a person or hallucinate him?"

Lando dragged a hand down his face. "I don`t know. Maybe it wasn`t that deep."

A lie.

Because he remembered the pasta, the way Oscar watched him eat, the little nervous smile, the walk to the coffee shop where Lando kept staring at Oscar`s hands instead of the road.

Races consumed most of his time. Suddenly, three weeks had passed like he`d blinked twice.

"He probably forgot I exist," Lando muttered.

"Or," Daniel said, nudging his shoulder, "you`re an idiot who didn`t ask for his number like normal people do."

Lando groaned again. "Okay, I deserved that."

"Look, mate, If you see him again, don`t mess it up."

"Yeah," Lando said quietly. "If."

...........

Two days later, after media, simulator work, and a flight back home to London, Lando did something painfully normal.

He went grocery shopping.

Tesco at nine in the evening was practically empty, just a few people wandering the aisles, soft pop music playing overhead. Lando grabbed a basket and headed instinctively for the fresh section, already mentally debating between chicken and pasta for dinner.

He turned into the aisle and reached out for the last pack of fresh gnocchi.

At the same time, another hand reached for it.

Lando froze.

Oscar froze.

Their fingers brushed.

Oscar blinked at him, eyes going wide, mouth parting in pure disbelief.

Lando felt his heart drop straight into his stomach, then bounce back up into his throat.

"...Hi," Lando breathed, a smile tugging helplessly at his lips.

Oscar didn`t move. Didn`t blink.

He just stared like the universe had personally pranked him.

"Lando?" Oscar finally managed , a voice barely above a whisper.

Lando grinned.

"Well... third time`s a charm, right?"

Chapter Text

Lando was standing in front of him.

In the pasta aisle.

At Tesco.

Holding the same pack of gnocchi like it was a bomb about to explode.

Oscar’s brain stopped working. Fully. Completely. Like someone unplugged the wires and walked away. Or maybe it was a prank. He`d finally gone mad.

Oscar slapped himself, he`d meant to do it mentally but he didn`t know what had overcame him.

"Shut up," Oscar exclaimed.

"Umm, rude" Lando responded smiling as usual.

“Lando?” he croaked.

Lando smiled — that smile — the soft, stupidly pretty one that had been haunting Oscar’s thoughts for three whole weeks.

“Well… third time’s a charm, right?”

Oscar opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Nothing came out except:

“You’re… here.”

Great. Brilliant. Words of a certified genius.

Lando laughed under his breath. “I live ten minutes from here. Didn’t think I’d run into you again though.”

Oscar swallowed, hard. “Yeah, I… I wasn’t expecting… this.”
He gestured vaguely at the aisle, the pasta, the universe.

“So uh—” Lando lifted the gnocchi a little. “We both reached for this. Want to split it?”

Oscar blinked. “…Split it?”

Lando shrugged, his hoodie scrunching at the shoulders. “Yeah. You take half, I take half. Very diplomatic.”

“That’s not how gnocchi works.”

“Sure it is,” Lando said. “You cut it down the middle—”

Oscar stared. Lando’s face cracked, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding. I’ll take something else. You have it.”

“No—no, it’s fine, you can have it,” Oscar insisted, because apparently reflexive politeness activated when his brain malfunctioned.

But Lando shook his head. “I had pasta yesterday. You take it.”

The banter stalled, silence settling between them.
A normal silence.
A comfortable silence.

Oscar’s heart thumped.

“So…” Lando said, voice softer now, “how’ve you been?”

Oscar considered saying fine. Or good. Or busy.
But what came out was:

“I thought you ghosted me.”

He instantly regretted it.

Lando’s eyes widened. “Ghosted you? I didn’t— I wasn’t— I didn’t know how to find you again. I didn’t even get your number.”

Oscar felt heat crawl up his neck. “I figured you… forgot.”

Lando’s jaw tensed slightly. “I didn’t forget.”

Oscar inhaled slowly. His fingers tightened around the gnocchi.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Good.”

Lando’s shoulders relaxed. “Good.”

Another beat passed.

“…Do you maybe want to—”
“Are you hungry—”

They both froze, talking over each other.

Lando laughed lightly. “You go first.”

Oscar licked his lips. “Do you want to… maybe grab something to eat? Or coffee? Or— I don’t know— gnocchi apparently?”

Lando’s smile spread slowly, brightening every corner of his face.

“Oscar,” he said, voice soft but sure,
“I’d like that. A lot.”

Oscar’s stomach swooped.

“Okay,” he whispered, trying not to smile too hard and failing miserably. “Yeah. Me too.”

Lando nodded toward the checkout. “Then let’s go before someone else tries to steal our hard-won pasta.”

Oscar laughed — a nervous, breathy sound he hoped didn’t give too much away.

As they walked side by side toward the tills, Oscar couldn’t stop thinking one thing:

Three weeks.

Worth it.

........

They walked out of Tesco with a single bag between them — one pack of gnocchi, a bottle of iced coffee Lando impulsively grabbed, and a packet of sour gummies Oscar didn’t remember agreeing to but apparently bought anyway.

Lando nudged him lightly.
“So… coffee? Or food? Or… whatever you prefer.”

Oscar cleared his throat. “There’s a café two streets over. It’s open late.”

“Perfect,” Lando said, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets as they started walking. “Lead the way.”

The night air was cool, soft. Quiet. The kind of quiet that made you aware of every small thing — their footsteps, the brush of jackets, the way Lando kept glancing at him like he was trying not to stare.

They reached a small corner café, warm lights glowing through fogged windows. Oscar held the door open.

Lando grinned. “Gentleman. Love that.”

Oscar nearly tripped.

They took a booth near the window. A waitress came by; Lando ordered a vanilla latte, Oscar a black coffee. When she walked away, a comfortable silence settled.

Lando finally broke it.

“So… how’ve you been? Last time I saw you, you were about to pass out on your own kitchen tiles.”

Oscar snorted. “It was a long day.”

“You look less stressed now.”

“I’ve had sleep,” Oscar said. Then, after a beat: “And I got promoted.”

Lando blinked. “Wait— actually? That’s huge.”

Oscar shrugged, suddenly shy. “Yeah. Head chef.”

Lando’s face lit up in a way that made Oscar’s stomach twist. “Oscar, that’s incredible. Congrats.”

“Thank you,” Oscar murmured.

“You’re really talented,” Lando said simply, like it was a fact. “Like… ridiculously talented. I still think about the pasta salad you made me.”

Oscar choked on air.
“You remember that?”

“Are you kidding?” Lando laughed. “My brain won’t let me forget. I’ve been comparing every meal I’ve had since, and nothing comes close.”

Oscar stared at the table, cheeks hot.

Lando tilted his head.
“You really thought I forgot about you?”

Oscar didn’t answer at first.

So Lando lowered his voice. “Hey.”
Oscar looked up.
Lando’s gaze was steady. Warm.
“I didn’t forget,” he repeated softly.

Oscar’s chest tightened in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

“So… what have you been up to these past few weeks?”

Lando visibly tenses for half a second — barely noticeable, but Oscar catches it.

“Oh, uh— nothing special,” Lando says quickly. Too quickly.
“Just… travelling. You know. Visiting friends. Family stuff. Work stuff. Normal stuff.”

Oscar raises a brow. “That was a lot of ‘stuff.’”

Lando laughs nervously. “Yeah, well. My life’s kind of messy right now. Busy. Lots of flights.”

“Flights?” Oscar echoes.

Lando freezes just a little. “Yeah! You know. Heathrow has good deals sometimes. And I— uh— like airports?”

Oscar stares.

Lando nods aggressively, like he believes his own answer.

“You like airports,” Oscar repeats, unconvinced.

“Love them,” Lando lies with a painful smile. “Big fan. The chairs. The… announcements. The… duty free perfume section.”

Oscar blinks slowly. “Right.”

Lando clears his throat and picks up his menu even though they’ve already ordered.
“Anyways! What about you?”

But Oscar keeps looking at him, amused.
“You’re really bad at lying.”

Lando winces. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… didn’t want to make things weird.”

Oscar tilts his head. “Why would it be weird?”

Lando opens his mouth, then shuts it.
“Trust me. When you find out, you’ll understand.”

“Find out what?”

Lando waves his hands. “Nothing! Forget I said anything. Please. Just ignore it"

Oscar watches him for another beat.
Lando looks like a man praying Oscar won’t connect the dots.

So Oscar lets it go — for now.

Their coffees arrived, breaking the moment. Lando took a sip, grimaced dramatically.

“Nope. Too hot. Burned my tongue. Tell everyone I was brave.”

Oscar laughed — really laughed — and Lando’s eyes softened like he’d been waiting to hear it.

They talked easily after that.

About work...

"Now you`re like head chef and everything yeah?, do I get free food?" Lando says. Oscar chuckles.

"You`re funny, no"

"Well, I tried" Lando fake sobs and Oscar laughs.

About the ridiculous hill incident...

"When I fell, I thought I was hit by an avalanche of like yunno, snow" Oscar says.

"Gee thanks, I know I`m fat" Lando says. Oscar stops smiling.

"Lando...It was a joke, I didn`t mean it that way"

"I know!! I was just messing with you" Lando smiles.

"Good, because I thought you`d get up and walk out that door" Oscar sighed in relief.

" I didn`t even think that far but it`s not too late" Lando says.

Lando grabs his stuff. Oscar looks at him stunned.

"Wait, you`re serious, I`m sorry..."

"Got you again!!, you really thought I was leaving?, this coffee is too good to go to waste" Lando laughs. "You should`ve seen the look on your face"

"Shut up"

About Logan...

"I really want to meet him now" Lando smiles.

"Don`t wish that, you`ll regret it, trust me" Oscar groans.

"He sounds very chaotic" Lando laughs. Oscar nodded aggressively.

About travel — Lando mentioned he’d been to Spain, Monaco and Austria in three weeks, and he loved photography, he went to a lot of museums and just spent hours there taking pictures.

"I`d really love to see some of your pictures sometime" Oscar says.

"Maybe, let`s save it for when we go on a date" Lando smiles.

"Is this not a date?!"

"Not even close, I`ve already pictured how our first date is gonna go" Lando says.

"Hmm, enlighten me" Oscar says.

"Uh, no, It`s a secret" Lando grins. Oscar smiles.

"Please!!" Oscar begs.

"You`ll find out very soon, don`t think about it too much" Lando laughs.

"Maybe you shouldn`t have told me then" Oscar mumbles and pouts, Lando smiles at him. "You`re cute"

"What?" Oscar could feel his cheeks go pink.

"Are you really gonna make me repeat myself?" Lando asks. He smiles shyly. "I think you heard me"

Oscar blushes. Lando wished that he could take a picture of him at this moment.

They talked more about Lando`s travels, Lando enlightening Oscar about his favourite spots and places he would definitely visit again.

“ So, That’s why I disappeared,” Lando said, fiddling with the sugar packet. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just… didn’t have a way to contact you.”

Oscar swallowed. “I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“Of course I did,” Lando said immediately.

Oscar’s pulse stuttered.

They sat there until the café started stacking chairs. When they walked back outside, the street was quiet again.

Lando shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous.
“So… can I— can I get your number this time?”

Oscar’s heart did a full somersault.

“Yes,” he said, trying very hard to sound normal instead of bursting into fireworks.

They exchanged phones.
Lando typed his number into Oscar’s contacts and added a little 🚀 emoji.

Oscar snorted. “Why the rocket?”

“Because,” Lando said with a dramatic flourish, “that’s how fast I fell down the hill onto you.”

Oscar nearly dropped the phone.

When the laughter died down, they walked toward the corner where their paths split. Lando shoved his hands back into his hoodie pocket, rocking on his heels.

“I’m really glad I ran into you,” he said softly.

Oscar’s breath caught.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

Lando hesitated, like he wanted to say something else. Then he stepped back.

“Text me when you get home?” he asked.

Oscar nodded.
“Text me too.”

They parted ways, and Oscar walked the rest of the route home with a smile he couldn’t fight even if he tried.

Chapter Text

Oscar didn’t usually bring work home with him.

Tonight, however, work had followed him in the form of three unopened emails, a half-written menu draft on his iPad, and a carbonara recipe he couldn’t stop overthinking. He’d tested it a few days ago and it still wasn’t right, not yet.

And then there was the faint, impossible-to-ignore weight of his phone in his hand.

He stared at the screen.

Still nothing.

It’s not like he was waiting. He wasn’t. He showered, changed into an oversized hoodie, and made himself some chamomile tea like a normal person. He even sat on the couch and tried to watch a documentary he didn’t care about.

Still.

Nothing.

Oscar sighed and locked his phone, tossing it onto the cushion beside him like it had personally offended him.

This was ridiculous.

They’d exchanged numbers barely six hours ago, standing outside the coffee shop, awkward smiles, lingering eye contact stretching the moment longer than necessary. Lando had typed his number into Oscar’s phone, handed it back, and said, Text me, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Oscar had nodded like a functioning human being.

He was not a functioning human being now. He was spiralling.

He picked the phone up again.

No new notifications.

“Get a grip,” Oscar muttered.

Right on cue, his phone buzzed.

Oscar froze, then scrambled for it so fast he nearly dropped it.

UNKNOWN CONTACT:
hey… it’s Lando!! hope this is okay

Oscar stared at the message for a full five seconds before realising he was smiling.

He typed. Deleted. Typed again.

yeah, it’s okay
Too dry.

hi!!
Too eager.

He exhaled, rolled his shoulders, and tried again.

hey, yeah. glad you texted

Three dots appeared.

Oscar held his breath.

good. i was worried i waited too long

Oscar blinked.

He hadn’t expected that.

waited how long?

like… long enough for you to think i wasn’t going to

Oscar swallowed.

trust me, i noticed

There was a pause this time. Longer.

oh
well… that’s good then

Oscar could practically hear the sheepish tone.

what are you up to? Lando added.

Oscar glanced around his flat, the dim lamp, the untouched tea, the cool night air drifting in through the open window.

not much. got home late. couldn’t switch my brain off, so i’m working on my menu. that’s been a struggle recently

OOH, what are you adding?
Oscar smiled.

working on a new carbonara recipe. it’s close, but not there yet

i’m sure it’s great. you’re probably overthinking it
i love food, can you tell?

Oscar chuckled.

i figured. you finished my pasta last time and couldn’t stop swearing after every bite

AH, that’s embarrassing. when food’s good, i have to compliment it. can’t help it lol

Oscar shook his head, smiling.

what about you? why are you awake?

i couldn’t sleep. travel days mess me up

Oscar frowned slightly.

travel days?

Another pause.

yeah… work stuff

Oscar considered pushing, then decided against it.

that makes sense, he typed. i’m awful at sleeping when my routine’s off

same, Lando replied. i just scroll until 2am and regret it later

Oscar smiled.

same. except i convince myself i’ll be productive and then just rewatch things i’ve already seen

criminal behaviour, Lando wrote. what’s your comfort rewatch?

Oscar didn’t hesitate.

brooklyn nine-nine

There was a long pause.

Oscar braced himself.

oh wow
yeah okay, that makes sense now

Oscar laughed out loud.

judge me all you want, he typed. it’s a masterpiece

no judgement. i respect it.
mine’s probably worse

try me

the office. british version. on repeat.

Oscar smiled softly.

acceptable

The conversation slowed after that, not awkwardly, just comfortably. Messages came every few minutes instead of seconds. Random thoughts. Complaints about bad coffee and worse sleep schedules.

At some point, Oscar realised his tea had gone cold and he didn’t care.

hey Oscar?

yeah?

you know how you said you’re still perfecting your carbonara?

yeah?

i could be your food critic

Oscar’s heart stopped.

are you still there?

Oscar walked to the fridge, grabbed a water bottle, and drank half of it.

hello?

hi! sorry, yes. okay. you can be my food critic

yes!! when are you free?

Saturday. it’s my day off.

perfect. i can do saturday.
text me your address and when you want me over

okay

A moment passed.

Oscar?
i’m glad we ran into each other again

Warmth bloomed in his chest.

me too, Oscar replied. even if you almost knocked me out the first time

i said sorry!

you also made me bleed

wow okay. i see how it is

Oscar laughed, shaking his head.

get some sleep, he typed eventually. you sound exhausted

yeah… you’re probably right, Lando replied. goodnight, Oscar

Oscar’s fingers hovered.

goodnight, Lando

He set his phone down gently this time.

For the first night in weeks, his mind didn’t race.

It settled.

And as Oscar finally closed his eyes, a quiet, unfamiliar thought drifted through him—soft and hopeful and terrifying all at once.

Maybe this wasn’t just a moment after all.

Chapter Text

Lando should have been asleep.

His suitcase sat half-open on his apartment floor, clothes folded with the kind of rushed precision that came from doing this far too often. He was back home for a week and a few days and he hadn`t unpacked yet, he was going to have yet another early morning that would start with schedules and strategy briefings and the quiet hum of expectation.

He lay on his back, phone balanced on his chest, staring at the ceiling.

His phone lit up...
Messages from the F1 group chat he was practically forced on came in, everyone wishing Charles a happy birthday.

Texts from both George and Alex asking to hangout on Sunday, he replied to both with an okay and a sounds great.

And a text from Max, asking for advice on restaurants for his date with his girlfriend later in the week, Lando gave him a good place, Max replied with a "thanks, you`re the best" and Lando replied with a thumbs up.

That wasn`t what was on his mind.

Oscar had gone quiet.

Not in a bad way. Not awkward. Just… paused. The kind of pause that felt comfortable, like neither of them was in a rush to fill the space.

Lando smiled to himself.

He hadn’t expected this. Any of it.

The run. The fall. The way Oscar had looked at him like he was trying to decide whether Lando was real or just another clumsy stranger passing through his life. The pasta. The coffee shop. The walk. The way Oscar listened, really listened, like Lando wasn’t just another noise in a loud world, Lando knew he was a yapper and yet, Oscar just listened to him yap.

His phone buzzed again.

brooklyn nine-nine

Lando let out a quiet laugh, rolling onto his side.

Of course it was.

He typed back easily, the grin already there before the message was sent.

yeah okay that makes sense now

He could almost picture Oscar’s reaction, defensive, pretending not to care, secretly pleased. Lando liked that he could imagine him so clearly already. That felt… new.

Dangerous, maybe.

His phone buzzed again. And again.

The conversation drifted, slowing naturally. Easy. Warm. It didn’t feel like flirting in the way Lando was used to, no performance, no sharp edges. Just comfort.

Then Oscar asked it.

why are you awake?

Lando hesitated.

He rolled onto his back again, staring at the dark ceiling. The truth sat heavy, familiar. Early starts. Late finishes. Pressure that followed him even into sleep. Cameras. Headlines. A job that didn’t really turn off.

He typed.

couldn’t sleep. travel days mess me up

Not a lie. Just… incomplete.

travel days?

Lando watched the typing bubble appear, then disappear, then appear again.

He swallowed.

yeah… work stuff

He waited, expecting questions. Curiosity. Maybe even disappointment.

Instead:

that makes sense. i’m terrible at sleeping when my routine’s off

Something in his chest loosened.

He exhaled slowly, relief settling in. Oscar wasn’t pushing. Wasn’t digging. He respected the space without even knowing why it mattered.

That alone made Lando want to tell him everything.

He didn’t. Not yet.

The conversation kept going, comfort shows, bad sleep habits, stupid little confessions that felt oddly intimate at this hour. At some point, Lando realised he’d stopped thinking about lap times and tyre strategies and all the things waiting for him in the morning.

He was just… here.

Then his phone buzzed again, but this time, it wasn’t Oscar.

A notification lit the screen.

TEAM SCHEDULE UPDATED – SATURDAY BRIEFING MOVED FORWARD

Lando’s smile faded, just slightly.

Saturday.

He glanced back at Oscar’s last message, still glowing softly on his screen.

saturday’s my day off

Lando swallowed.

He typed back quickly, almost instinctively, like he was afraid if he waited too long, the moment would slip through his fingers.

perfect, I can do saturday

And he meant it. He was excited already.

Another buzz, this time a call request that he declined immediately, silencing it with practiced ease.

Not now.

His phone lit up again, Oscar’s name this time.

okay.

Lando smiled. i`m glad we ran into each other again.

Oscar replied quickly. me too. even though you almost knocked me out.

Lando laughed and rolled onto his back.

hey, that was an accident, i said i was sorry!

you also made me bleed

Lando smiled.

okay, I see how it is

The banter returned easily, grounding him. Normal. Human.

When the conversation finally slowed, when Oscar told him to get some sleep, Lando didn’t argue. He should. He knew that.

goodnight, oscar

He set his phone down on the bedside table, the room suddenly quieter.

Tomorrow would come with questions. Pressure. The version of himself the world expected.

But Saturday?

Saturday was pasta and coffee and a chef with sharp eyes and steady hands and a life that didn’t revolve around lap times.

Lando closed his eyes, a small smile lingering.

For once, he wasn’t thinking about the race ahead.

He was thinking about carbonara.

And somehow, that felt like the most dangerous thing of all.

And he wasn`t bothered about it, after all, Lando did love some danger.

Chapter Text

If Oscar said he wasn’t nervous, he’d be lying because he was very nervous.

During the week, he’d sent Lando his address. Now Lando would be here any minute, and Oscar was spiralling.

He’d cleaned his apartment three times in the last twenty-four hours. Hoovered. Dusted. Rearranged his cookbooks, which he never did. Oscar liked his cookbooks slightly messy. This was not him.

He’d even texted Logan about it. Regular Oscar would never do that.

Logan had offered to come over and “supervise.” Oscar had threatened to tase him if he did. He didn’t even own a taser.

Oscar paced his apartment for the fourteenth time in under two minutes. He was halfway to fifteen when the doorbell rang.
He jumped.
He checked the peephole and there he was.
Lando.
Looking effortlessly unfair in a black hoodie, blue jeans, Adidas Sambas, and a backwards cap. Oscar swallowed hard and opened the door.

“Hi,” Lando said, smiling.

“Hey,” Oscar replied, stepping aside. “Come in.”

“Thanks. Damn,” Lando said, glancing around. “Your place is really nice. I like the interior.”

“Thank you,” Oscar said. “My landlord has taste.”

They both laughed, a little too quickly.

“So…” Lando said.

“So…” Oscar echoed.

Lando fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. “Carbonara,” he mumbled.

“Yes …right,” Oscar said. “I should probably give you a tour first.”

“Okay,” Lando smiled. “Lead the way, chef.”

..........

A few minutes later, they were back in the kitchen.

“I’ve already set everything up,” Oscar said. “I just need to make it.”

Lando perched on one of the island stools. “So… what do I do?”

“I’ve got everything covered,” Oscar said, thinking. “But you can keep me company. Tell me stuff about yourself.”

“That I can do,” Lando laughed.

Oscar started cooking while Lando watched.

“How many siblings do you have?” Lando asked.

“Three. All sisters.”

“Wow, only guy?”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“Three as well. Two sisters and a brother.”

“Middle child?” Oscar asked.

Lando blinked. “How did you know?”

“You give off middle-child energy.”

“I do not,” Lando protested.

“You do,” Oscar smiled. “Very mischievous.”

“I am not mischievous!”

“You tackled an innocent jogger and gave him a concussion.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Never.”

They smiled at each other, softer this time.

A while later, Oscar placed the plate down.
“So,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You’re my official taste tester. No pressure.”

Lando picked up his fork. “I take this role very seriously.”

“I can tell.”

“Show mercy when you judge it,” Oscar added.

“I’m going full MasterChef.”

Lando took a bite.
“Oh,” he said quietly. Then, “Oh wow.”

Oscar froze. “Good ‘oh’ or bad ‘oh’?”

“This is insane,” Lando said. “You were worried about this?”

Oscar exhaled, relief washing over him. “Okay. Thank god.”

Lando smiled at his plate — then at Oscar. “You’re kind of incredible, you know that?”

Oscar blinked. “You’re just saying that because you’re eating carbs.”

“Maybe,” Lando said. “But I’m also not wrong.”

Oscar looked down, cheeks warming.

“There’s more,” Oscar said after a beat.

“Oh?” Lando perked up.

“Chocolate cupcakes.”

Lando’s face lit up like Oscar had just handed him a trophy.

Lando blinked. “Cupcakes?”

Oscar nodded. “Cupcakes.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” Lando said seriously. “First pasta, now this.”

“Chocolate cupcakes,” Oscar added. “With chocolate frosting.”

Lando slid off the stool immediately. “Say less. What do you need me to do?”

Oscar handed him a bowl and a bag of flour. “Okay, rule number one: don’t make a mess.”

Lando looked down at the flour. Then back up at Oscar. Then smiled.

Oscar narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like that look.”

“I’m just enthusiastic,” Lando said innocently.

Five minutes later, flour dusted the counter. Ten minutes later, Oscar had a light streak across his cheek that he definitely did not put there himself.

“Did you just…” Oscar stopped, staring at Lando.

“What?” Lando asked. “Is something on my face?”

Oscar stepped closer, squinting. “You’ve got… flour. Here.”

He reached out without thinking, thumb brushing just under Lando’s cheekbone. Lando went still.

The kitchen felt smaller suddenly. Quieter.

“Oh,” Lando said softly.

Oscar pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. “Sorry. I…”

Lando laughed nervously and dipped two fingers into the flour bag. Before Oscar could react, Lando swiped it gently across Oscar’s other cheek.

“Oscar froze. “You did not.”

“I absolutely did,” Lando grinned.

“Oh, that’s it. You`re so dead”

Oscar grabbed the tea towel and flicked it at Lando’s shoulder. Lando dodged, laughing, nearly knocking into the counter.

“Careful!” Oscar said, laughing despite himself.

“You started it!”

“I literally didn’t!”

Lando stepped closer, still smiling, flour on his hoodie, curls a mess. Oscar noticed too late how close they were now.

Neither of them moved.

Lando’s smile softened. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Oscar replied, quieter.

For a split second, Lando looked unsure. Then, like he was acting before he could overthink it, he leaned in and pressed a quick, almost hesitant kiss to Oscar’s lips.

It was brief. Barely there.

Lando pulled back immediately, eyes wide. “I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have”

Oscar didn’t let him finish.

He grabbed the front of Lando’s hoodie and pulled him back in, this time slow and sure, kissing him properly. Lando made a soft sound of surprise before melting into it instantly, one hand coming up to rest at Oscar’s waist.

The world narrowed to warmth and flour-dusted breath and the way Lando’s lips fit against his like they’d always known how.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were smiling—soft, stunned smiles and breathing a little heavier.

“Well,” Lando said quietly, forehead resting against Oscar’s. “That escalated.”

Oscar laughed under his breath. “You kissed me first.”

“True,” Lando admitted. “No regrets though.”

“Good,” Oscar said. “Because neither do I.”

The oven timer went off loudly, making them both jump.

Cupcakes.

They looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

“Okay,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “Cupcakes first. Then… whatever that was.”

Lando grinned. “Deal.”

And for the first time, Oscar let himself feel the moment.

Chapter Text

Oscar was still riding the high.

That warm, floaty, unreal kind that sat in his chest and refused to leave, no matter how many times he replayed the afternoon in his head. The carbonara. The cupcakes. The kiss. The way Lando had looked at him like he was something rare, something worth slowing down for.

He was in the kitchen, washing a mug that didn't need washing, when his door burst open.

"Oscar Piastri."

Oscar jumped. "Jesus Logan, have you ever heard of knocking?"

Logan stood in the doorway, phone in hand, eyes wild, hoodie half-zipped like he'd sprinted the entire way over.

"Did you run here?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Duh, the bus was delayed and delayed"

Oscar gestured for him to come in.

Logan scans his apartment and stares at Oscar.

"You kissed him," Logan said casually.

Oscar froze.

"...what?"

"You. kissed. him," Logan repeated, jabbing his phone toward Oscar like a weapon. "i leave you alone for ONE DAY"

"How do you..." Oscar stopped, narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Logan ignored that entirely. "Do you have any idea who you let into your apartment?"

Oscar sighed. "Logan, if this is about Lando, please don't make it weird."

Logan let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scream. "MAKE IT WEIRD? OSCAR..."

He unlocked his phone and shoved it into Oscar's face.

An Instagram post. Bright. Loud. Very much verified.

McLaren Mastercard Formula 1 Team
Back on track. Let's go!! 🧡

A photo of Lando in race gear, helmet tucked his arm, sweat-damp curls peeking out, grin unmistakable.

Oscar stared.

Once.

Twice.

"Oh," he said quietly.
Logan watched his soul leave his body in real time. "OH?? That's all you've got? OH??"

"He..." Oscar swallowed. "He said he travelled for work."

"YEAH. WORK," Logan snapped. "FORMULA ONE WORK."

"Oscar sank onto a kitchen chair.

"He... cooks badly," Oscar said weakly.

Logan laughed hysterically. "Yeah, mate, they don't teach carbonara in the paddock."

Oscar dragged a hand down his face. His brain replayed everything at once. the hoodie, the tired eyes, the way Lando had said he likes airports and how tried to cover it up.

"He lied to me," Oscar murmured.

Logan softened just a fraction. "Okay. That part? Fair. Celebrities tried to hide their identities all the time. But Osc..."

"He kissed me," Oscar said, like saying it out loud might anchor him.

Logan blinked. "He WHAT?"

"And then I kissed him back," Oscar added. "Properly."

Logan stared. Then slowly sat across from him.

"...you're dating a Formula One driver."

"I am not dating him."

"You made him cupcakes."

Oscar opened his mouth and closed it.

"You let him wear flour like it was foreplay."

"Okay, that was an accident."

Logan leaned back, stunned. "You're unbelievable."

Oscar picked a banana in the fruit bowl and peeled it open. "Do you think he intentionally didn't tell me?"

Logan shrugged. "Maybe he was trying to be normal for five minutes. Can you blame him?"

Oscar thought of the way Lando had relaxed in his kitchen. Barefoot. Laughing . Just Lando.

"No," Oscar admitted quietly.

Logan stood. "Okay. Here's the thing."

Oscar looked up.

"This is either going to end in heartbreak," Logan said, "or you're about to become the most annoying person alive with paddock passes."

Oscar snorted.

"But," Logan added, softer now, "he didn't have to come over. He didn't have to stay. And he definitely didn't have to kiss you."

Oscar's phone buzzed on the counter.

He looked down.

Lando:
hope you're not sick of me yet
also I think I left my hoodie at yours 😅

Oscar smiled before he could stop himself.

"No," he said quietly. "I don't think I am."

Logan groaned. "I hate his already."

Oscar picked up his phone, heart steady, warm.

And for the first time, knowing who Lando really was didn't scare him.

It just made everything feel... bigger.

********

Oscar had spent the entire morning trying not to think about it.

It wasn't working.

Formula One driver.

Every time he thought the words, they sounded ridiculous.

Lando Norris was a Formula One driver.

Not just any driver either. Logan had spent twenty minutes explaining statistics Oscar didn't understand, race wins, podiums, championships, sponsorships and teams. Oscar had nodded through most of it while his brain repeatedly short-circuited.

Because somehow none of that matched the Lando he knew.

The Lando who had tripped over his own feet during a morning run.

The Lando who had eaten an entire plate of pasta and nearly cried about it.

The Lando who had gotten flour in his hair and kissed him in the middle of baking cupcakes.

Oscar sighed and chopped another carrot.

Then another.

Then another.

"Earth to Oscar."

No response.

"Oscar."

Still nothing.

"OSCAR!"

Oscar nearly launched his knife across the kitchen.

Maya stared at him.

Oscar stared back.

"What?" he asked.

Maya folded her arms.

"You've been holding that carrot for thirty seconds."

Oscar glanced down.

He was, in fact, still holding the same carrot.

"Oh."

"Who is he?" Maya asked immediately.

Oscar almost dropped it.

"What?" Now everyone can read him all of a sudden, is he that obvious?

"The guy."

"There is no guy."

Maya laughed.

"Oscar, you've been smiling at vegetables all morning."

"I have not."

"You smiled at a potato earlier."

"I did not smile at a potato."

"You absolutely smiled at a potato,"

Oscar rolled his eyes and turned back to the chopping board. "Get back to work Singh"

Maya leaned against the counter.

"Is he cute?"

Oscar continued chopping.

"There's no he."

"Uh huh."

"There's not."

"Okay."

Oscar hated when she said okay like that.

Maya grinned.

"Just so you know, if you ever get married. I'm telling everyone about the potato."

Oscar groaned.

"You know, those tomatoes aren't going to chop themselves"

"Uh huh"

"Please leave"

"I can't, I'm working."

Unfortunately, she had a point.

The lunch rush arrived soon after, dragging Oscar's attention back to where it belonged, controlling this kitchen. Orders came flying through. Pans hissed. Timers beeped. Staff moved around him in organized chaos.

Normally work cleared his head.

Today it only gave him more time to think.

Because every time he replayed he last few weeks, one question kept surfacing.

Why hadn't Lando told him?

Oscar didn't care that he was famous.

Honestly, the fame part was the least interesting thing about him.

He cared that Lando had looked uncomfortable every time work came up.

That he always changed the subject.

That he'd seemed almost nervous.

Oscar paused while plating a dish.

Maybe it wasn't about hiding.

Maybe it was about escaping.

Maybe Lando was tired of people knowing who he was before they knew him.

Maybe he just wanted someone to see him as a person first.

Oscar understood that more than he wanted to admit.

By the time his sift ended, the restaurant had emptied out. The kitchen was quieter now. Oscar sat alone in the office for a moment, staring at his phone.
His thumb hovered over Lando's contact.

He typed.

Logan came over today

He stared at the message.

then added:

We should talk when you're free.

Oscar hesitated.

Then hit send before he could change his mind.

A moment later, his phone screen went dark.

And for the first time all day, Oscar felt more nervous that confused.

Chapter Text

Lando hated media days.

He knew that wasn't exactly a revolutionary opinion. Most drivers hated them. But that didn't stop him from sitting in a folding chair at the circuit, wishing he was literally anywhere else.

The photographer lowered his camera.

"Perfect."

Lando doubted that.

Three more people immediately approached him.

A PR representative.

A social media manager.

Someone asking him to film another promotional video.

Lando forced a smile.

"Yep. Sure."

He'd been awake since six.

He'd already done two interviews.

He'd filmed three videos.

And somehow it wasn't even lunchtime.

"Lando, can we get one more?"

Of course they could.

Twenty minutes later, he finally escaped to the hospitality unit.

The second the door shut behind him, he exhaled.

Quiet.

Well, quieter.

A few mechanics were eating lunch. Someone was discussing tyre strategy at another table.

Normal.

Or at least as normal as Formula One ever got.

Lando sat down and unlocked his phone.

His stomach immediately did something stupid.

Oscar hadn't replied yet.

Not that he was checking.

He definitely wasn't checking.

Daniel dropped into the chair opposite him.

"You've got that look again."

Lando didn't look up.

"What look?"

"The one where you stare at your phone and smile like an idiot."

Lando immediately locked the screen.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Daniel laughed.

"Mate, you're terrible at this."

Lando rolled his eyes.

"Go away."

"No."

Daniel stole one of his chips.

"How's chef boy?"

Lando tried not to smile.

Failed.

Daniel pointed aggressively.

"See!"

"Oh my god."

"I'm just saying. I've known you for years."

Lando shook his head.

"Nothing's happened."

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

"Lando."

"...Okay, something happened."

Daniel nearly fell out of his chair.

"YOU KISSED HIM?!"

Several people looked over.

Lando buried his face in his hands.

"Could you be any louder?"

"No."

Daniel grinned.

"This is brilliant."

Lando hated how pleased he looked.

For a moment, his smile faded.

"What?"

Daniel noticed immediately.

"What's wrong?"

Lando picked at the edge of his water bottle.

"I haven't told him."

"Told him what?"

Daniel gave him a look. Then realization hit.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"You still haven't told him?"

Lando shook his head.

The truth was, every time he'd tried, he'd chickened out. Because once Oscar knew, things might change.

People always changed.

Sometimes they became awkward.

Sometimes they became interested for the wrong reasons.

Sometimes they stopped seeing Lando and started seeing the driver.

The brand. The headlines. The version everyone else knew.

With Oscar, none of that existed.

Oscar didn't care about podiums.

Oscar cared about carbonara.

And somehow that felt more important.

Daniel's expression softened.

"You know you'll have to tell him eventually."

"I know."

"He's going to find out."

"I know."

Daniel stole another chip. Lando eyed him.

"You really like him."

Lando sighed.

"Unfortunately."

Daniel laughed.

Before Lando could reply, his phone buzzed.

His heart immediately jumped.

Oscar.

He opened the message.

Oscar:
Logan came over today.

Lando smiled.

Lando:
is logan the taser guy?

The typing bubble appeared instantly.

Oscar:
yes

Oscar:
also he's an idiot

Lando laughed.

A second message arrived.

Oscar:
he showed me something interesting today

Lando frowned.

Lando:
oh?

There was a long pause.

Long enough for a knot of unease to form in his stomach.

Then,

Oscar:
we should talk when you're free

Lando stared at the screen.

Daniel immediately noticed.

"What?"

Lando swallowed.

"I think he knows."

Daniel leaned back in his chair.

"Well."

"Well?"

"You had a good run."

Lando threw a chip at him.

Daniel laughed.

But Lando wasn't listening anymore.

Because for the first time since meeting Oscar, he wasn't worried about qualifying.

Or the race.

Or interviews.

He was worried about one conversation.

And somehow that felt far more terrifying.

Chapter Text

Oscar hated waiting.

Especially when he knew a conversation was coming.

The kind of conversation that sat in your stomach all day, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

He'd cleaned his apartment twice.

Again.

At this point, he was convinced nervousness turned him into a cleaning service.

The text from Lando earlier hadn't helped.

Lando:
can i come over after work?

Oscar had stared at the message for a solid minute before replying.

Oscar:
yeah

Now he was pacing.

Again.

A knock sounded at the door.

Oscar immediately stopped moving.

His heart did something stupid.

He opened the door.

Lando stood there.

Hands shoved into his pockets.

Nervous.

Actually nervous.

That surprised Oscar more than anything.

"Hey," Lando said.

"Hey."

Neither moved.

Neither seemed to know what came next.

Oscar stepped aside.

"Come in."

Lando slipped inside.

The familiar scent of his cologne lingered as he walked past.

Normally that would've distracted Oscar.

Not today.

Today his brain was occupied.

Lando sat on one end of the couch.

Oscar sat on the other.

The space between them felt enormous.

"So..." Lando said.

"So."

Oscar immediately hated himself.

Lando laughed nervously.

Oscar laughed too.

At least they were equally awkward.

After a moment, Oscar decided to rip the bandage off.

"You're a Formula One driver."

Lando groaned.

Actually groaned.

Then buried his face in his hands.

Oscar blinked.

"That's not the reaction I expected."

"I've been dreading this conversation for three weeks."

That made Oscar pause.

Three weeks.

The exact amount of time they'd been talking.

The exact amount of time Lando had apparently been stressing about this.

Lando looked up.

"I'm sorry."

Oscar frowned.

"What are you apologising for?"

"Not telling you."

Oscar leaned back against the couch.

"Why didn't you?"

Lando looked down at his hands.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then...

"Because I liked that you didn't know."

Oscar blinked.

"What?"

Lando laughed softly.

"When we met, you treated me like some random idiot who knocked you over."

Oscar immediately pointed at him.

"You are some random idiot who knocked me over."

Lando laughed.

A proper laugh this time.

"Yeah."

The tension eased slightly.

Just slightly.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck.

"Most people know who I am before they meet me."

Oscar stayed quiet.

"So when they talk to me..." Lando continued. "Sometimes it feels like they're talking to the driver first."

His voice had gone softer now.

More honest.

"And with you?"

Lando looked at him.

"With you, I got to be just Lando."

Something warm settled in Oscar's chest.

Because suddenly it made sense.

Every awkward answer.

Every vague explanation.

Every time work came up and Lando changed the subject.

It wasn't because he'd wanted to lie.

It was because he'd wanted something normal.

Oscar looked down at his hands.

"I wasn't upset."

Lando's eyebrows lifted.

"You weren't?"

"No."

Lando visibly relaxed.

Then paused.

"Wait."

Oscar smiled slightly.

"What?"

"If you weren't upset, why did you send the world's most terrifying text message?"

Oscar laughed.

Lando pointed accusingly.

"No seriously. 'We need to talk' is psychological warfare."

"I didn't say we need to talk."

"You implied it."

Oscar rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't upset that you're famous."

Lando went quiet.

Oscar hesitated.

Then admitted the truth.

"I thought maybe you didn't trust me."

The room fell silent.

Lando's expression softened immediately.

"Oscar..."

"I'm not saying it was rational."

"It wasn't that."

"I know."

"No, I mean..."

Lando shifted closer.

Just a little.

"It genuinely wasn't that."

Oscar looked at him.

"I trusted you."

The words came easily.

Like Lando had been carrying them around for weeks.

"I think that's why I was scared."

Oscar's heart stumbled.

Because suddenly he understood.

If Lando hadn't cared, telling him would've been easy.

The fact that he'd worried so much meant the opposite.

Neither spoke for a moment.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore.

It felt... settled.

Lighter.

Like something important had finally been said.

"I really like you Lando, I want you to be able to trust me with anything" Oscar reached for Lando's hand and clasped their hands together.

Lando's cheeks went red.

"I do trust you Osc," Lando said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

"Good"

"So, you like me huh?" Lando chuckled.

"Shut up" Oscar blushed.

Eventually Lando leaned back against the couch.

"So."

Oscar smiled.

"So."

"We're okay?"

Oscar looked at him.

Really looked at him.

The nervous smile.

The hopeful eyes.

The idiot who had crashed into him during a morning run.

And somehow changed everything.

"Yeah," Oscar said.

A smile spread across Lando's face.

One of those real smiles.

The ones Oscar was becoming alarmingly fond of.

"Good."

Then Lando's stomach growled.

Loudly.

Oscar stared.

Lando closed his eyes.

"Oh my god."

Oscar burst out laughing.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I skipped lunch."

"Of course you did."

"I'm busy!"

"You're hopeless."

Lando grinned.

"Are you making me food?"

Oscar stood up.

"Don't push your luck."

Lando followed him into the kitchen anyway.

And for the first time since Logan had shown him that Instagram post, everything felt normal again.

Maybe even better than normal.

Because now Oscar knew all of Lando.

And he still wanted him around.