Work Text:
Australian Grand Prix, 2025.
Friday.
Lando never wanted to feel this way. God, he’d beg to feel different (if it was even possible, that is). He knew 2025 was going to be a difficult year ever since last year in Miami. He hated being this— this overwhelming ball of thoughts.
Y’know what? Now’s not the time to think like this, lock in.
‘ You’re amazing, you’re great, you’re the best fucking person here, act like it. You’re confident. You feel like you’re not real sometimes? Then what’s stopping you from being the best in this “life”, Lando? Be. The. Greate—‘
“Lando?” Someone interrupted. “I know you’re in there, but team’s looking for you, about to start prepping for free practice. Come out as soon as you can, yeah?”
Oscar.
“Shit— yeah. Sorry, I’ll be out right now, just- give me a minute,” Lando replied as he hurriedly stood up. Oscar’s footsteps faded away. Lando walked to the door knob, hesitating, walking back to his mirror to adjust his curls.
‘You’re great, you’re amazing, don’t fuck this up.’
Lando let out a heavy breath, slapped himself, and walked out the door.
— —
‘Okay . Not that bad, probably could’ve done better— but whatever,’ Lando thought as he downed a cold water bottle in the garage, ‘First two practice sessions of the season, not too shabby. God I can’t believe I just used that word—‘
He was patted on the shoulder,
“Good job today, yeah? Just don’t end up winning my home race,” Oscar joked behind him while Lando choked on his water.
“Fuck-“ Lando coughed, “Keep catch—“ cough, “Catching me off guard today.”
“Shit, sorry Lan, didn’t really.. process that you were drinking?” Oscar tried, horribly, that is.
Lando let out one final cough, “Don’t worry, all good. Also, no promises. Are you heading straight back to the hotel after we’re done for the day?”
“Ehm…” Oscar thought for a second, “Yeah, guess I am. What’s up?”
“Just wondering if you’re up for some Mario Kart? Or FIFA?”
“Yeah, of course. Not for long though, gotta be here at eight in the morning,” Oscar answered with a grin, God those bunny teeth.
Lando smiled, “Nice, okay. I’ll text you about it later, yeah?”
“Yep, see you.” Oscar replied as he walked away to his driver’s room.
— —
Lando
come in like
wait let me think
ok give me like 30 min
👌then u can come over
. .
Lando paced frantically around his hotel room, trying to do everything, yet… accomplishing absolutely nothing.
He had to clean, Oscar was coming over. He had to fix his messy suitcase, clean the clothes off of the ground— God he’s barely even been here! How the hell does he have so many clothes on the ground, fucking hell.
He has to fix his curls, change his outfit, set up Mario Kart— What if Oscar wants to play FIFA first? Fuck.
‘Okay.’
‘One thing at a time, Lando.’
‘What’s easiest?’
Lando let out a breath, walking to the bathroom as he ran a hand through his hair.
He stared into the mirror.
He looked back at… it.
He stared into its eyes.
‘That’s me.’ He thought, quietly.
‘Load of bullocks, that is, honestly,’ He cut himself off, before splashing water on his face. He adjusted his curls before walking back into the room.
He changed his clothes before realizing,
‘I need music. Loudly.’
See, usually if he needed music, he’d blast it on his abnormally large speaker. Problem one is, he’s in a hotel. Problem two is that he left it at the track.
So, with no other options left, he threw his headphones on and blasted music in his ears, full volume. Who cares about being able to hear in the future, amiright?
He cleaned, set up the gaming console, when his headphones got a notification.
“Osc, orange heart emoji, racecar, said, ‘I’m here. Been here.’ Smiley face.”
Lando smirked as he set his headphones down, turning them off, before speed walking to the door,
“Hi, Osc.”
“Hey, Lan. Been standing here knocking for a while, you didn’t hear me?” Oscar grinned.
“Shit, sorry. Was literally blasting music on my headphones,” Lando answered sheepishly.
“That’s a first, what happened to using them at the track?” Oscar joked as he huffed out air, an attempt to laugh.
“Oh shut up, you— twat. Just get inside already.”
Lando moved out of the way to let Oscar inside, walking to the edge of the bed where the controllers were set up.
“Oh, and I got you a little surprise,” Oscar said as he sat down beside Lando.
“Which is?…” Lando raised a brow, when he was suddenly met with two kinder eggs.
“Oh my god.”
“Oscar Piastri. I could literally kiss you right now.”
‘Why did I say that? Fucking hell.’
Oscar blushed at Lando’s… awkward wording.
“No worries, just leave me out of it if Jon notices, yeah?”
“Yep. Anywho, ready to get absolutely demolished at Mario Kart, Osc?” Lando smirked.
“Mhm, sure, Lan. Sure.”
— —
“No! You’re literally cheating, Osc! I swear, I.. don’t know how, but you like- are.” Lando groaned. Oscar just let out a wheeze as Lando raged internally, as well as externally
“Sure, mate,” Oscar laughed, “Alright. One more game and I’m gonna head back to my room, yeah?”
Don’t go, please.
“Yeah, of course. Need your ‘beauty rest’, Osc?” Lando smirked.
“Oh shut it,” Oscar fought back.
— —
“Bye, Osc. See you tomorrow,” Lando waved.
“Bye, Lan. Maybe practice your Mario Kart skills, yeah?”
“Drop it, already, Oscar! And goodnight.” Lando rolled his eyes before shutting his door.
He was met with silence.
He missed Oscar.
He missed feeling that way.
He walked to the bathroom. He examined his face, his curls were all going different directions.
He noticed his smile lines, his moles. The slight definition of his eye-bags, the scar on his nose. The way his bottom lip is slightly cracked, dehydrated.
He takes his clothes off.
Lando never liked the silence, it made his brain loud, it made everything he looked at seem fuzzy; not real. It made him look at things in ways he didn’t want to.
He looked at him. The body staring back. That’s him.
‘Me.’
Lando turned the shower on. He loved hot showers, it made him feel warm.
Well, no shit, but a different warm, y’know?
Like a hug without the weight, as if the water didn’t only wash the dirt away, but his bad thoughts, too.
Well, most of them, at least.
Maybe Lando was just a freak, too creative, or something. But, God, was he great at thinking about something weird at the wrong time. Like during team meetings, funerals, actual races, during conversations, eating with someone. It’s like his mind is in constant motion.
No wonder he became a Formula 1 driver, Jesus.
Lando slowly brushed through his wet curls, bringing shampoo to them. He loved the feeling of hands in his hair, scratching his scalp, it felt comforting. But oh, how he wished they weren’t his own. Just for once.
He finished his hair routine, standing in the hot water for at least another five minutes, then turned off the shower.
He pulled his boxers on, throwing on some random t-shirt that was two-sizes too big.
Lando pulled himself under the covers, grabbing a pillow from the opposite side of the bed, hugging it.
He grabbed his phone, which was awkwardly beneath him, since he didn’t grab it before lying down. Lando usually couldn’t sleep without music, he was always too cold to turn on a fan for white noise, so he resorted to his playlists.
He hugged the pillow tighter.
— —
Lando found himself walking into a kitchen, someone was cooking. Lando walked up to the man, resting his head on his shoulder.
“Good morning, Love.”
Oscar?
The place looked like a mix of Lando’s flat and, who knows what. His couch was in the wrong spot, the kitchen had the wrong cupboards, and Lando never had the ingredients that Oscar seemed to be using.
Lando didn’t notice when the scene changed. He was lying in his bed, but his helmet stand wasn’t in his room, the stuff on the shelves wasn’t recognizable.
He was lying on someone’s chest, most likely Oscar’s.
God, Lando. Get a fucking grip.
But oh, how he loved the feeling. He felt a hand in his hair, he felt small.
He felt loved.
— —
Lando woke up to the deafening sound of his alarm, and tears on his cheeks, and his own hand buried in his hair,
‘God, was I crying? And my own hand? Damn.’
Lando flopped onto his stomach, groaning loudly into the pillow before getting up. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, his under-eyes stained red from his tears.
‘I look like shit. As per usual, I guess.’
He finished up in the bathroom before walking to his suitcase.
His phone dings.
— —
Jon
Meet me downstairs in 10, we’re leaving to the track.
Lando
gotcha
🫡
. .
Lando always had mixed feelings about walking into the paddock. It’s not like he absolutely despised the cameras, but it was just… awkward. Really awkward.
It was like getting happy birthday sung to you, when you stare at everyone and nobody at the same time.
Fucking great.
— —
“Good luck out there during quali, yeah?” Oscar said as they shook hands.
“Same goes for you, Osc,” Lando grinned. It reached his eyes.
— —
Lando took deep breaths, counting.
‘In,’
One.
‘Out,’
Two.
‘In,’
Three.
‘Out,’
Four.
Four.
It’s stupid, but it works. Shitty superstitions.
— —
P1. Holy shit.
“You were amazing out there, Lan,” Oscar patted Lando’s shoulder.
“Thanks, I- honestly feel like I shouldn’t be surprised, but holy shit. You were mint out there too, flying.”
Oscar smiled at the compliment, “Thanks, Lan.”
They parted ways, Lando could tell Oscar was slightly bummed. He understood, it was Oscar’s home race.
Personally, Lando’d feel the same way if this happened to him in Silverstone. It’s fine, though. Oscar always does good. Always.