Caught in the middle of it all - Landoscar
Summary:
During the Brazilian Grand Prix, one impulsive kiss changes everything. Lando forgets where they are, lost in the way Oscar looks at him, and suddenly, the whole world knows.
Note ⚠️: public outing, media scrutiny, PR chaos, soft banter, established relationship, quiet intimacy
This fic is based on this picture from the 2025 Brazilian Grand Prix
Thank you @mintraindrop <3
The morning of the Brazilian Grand Prix always had a special kind of electricity in the air, the kind that buzzed under your skin and made the world feel sharper.
The paddock was alive with noise, journalists, fans, and team personnel moving in orchestrated chaos. The parade lap cars were lined up, each one small and a little ridiculous in comparison to the beasts that would soon tear around the track.
Oscar had one hand on the small steering wheel of the tiny, old-fashioned parade car, his McLaren sweater bright orange against the clearly different shade of orange of the vehicle. Which he was kind of too tall for, by the way.
His other hand rested loosely on the gear stick, steady and sure, the kind of quiet composure that made him seem like such a machine on track. Lando sat behind him on the backseat, one leg dangling over the side, grinning as he waved lazily to the crowd.
They had done these parades a dozen of times. But this one somehow felt different. Maybe it was the threatening rain above São Paulo, or maybe it was the fact that every time Lando looked at Oscar, at the curve of his smile, the calm in his eyes, he forgot that they were, in fact, at a public event.
Oscar looked over his shoulder at Lando, the corners of his mouth twitching. It was that subtle smile that Lando knew by heart, the one that only appeared when Oscar was trying not to laugh.
“Ready?” Oscar asked, voice low but easy. His accent, soft and familiar, slipped through the roar of the crowd like something made just for Lando’s ears.
Around them, other drivers joked and waved to the crowds. Cameras flashed, microphones reached in and fans screamed names. It was pure chaos, but in that small moment, all Lando saw was Oscar.
Lando’s breath caught as he looked into the youngers eyes. It was ridiculous, honestly. They had been together for a while now, long enough to know each other's every tone, every touch. But still, somehow, that look, the quiet confidence in Oscar's eyes, the sharp edge of his jaw, disarmed him completely. For a second, no rational thought floated around in Lando's brain. He completely forgot that the whole world was watching them closely.
He smiled, the kind of smile he couldn’t fake even if he tried. “Always,” he murmured back. Oscar turned back towards the steering wheel, hands tightening as he prepared to drive them around the track. And Lando? Lando was utterly lost behind him.
The surrounding crowd faded into white noise, the camera's didn't exist. All that was left, was the sight of Oscar. His Oscar.
Before he could think too much about it, he leaned forward into Oscar's space, who turned his head in surprise at the sudden invasion. Lando kissed him, nothing on his mind but the softness and taste of his boyfriends lips. The kiss was quick. Soft, gentle, and full of something wordless but deep.
It wasn't planned. It wasn't for anyone else. Just a simple, instinctive act, like breathing.
But the world didn't miss it.
The second they broke apart, everything came rushing back in. The sound of laughter from nearby, the sudden flash of cameras, the unmistakable ripple of surprise that seemed to spread around the circuit like a wildfire. Oscar froze, eyes flicking toward the nearest lens before looking up at Lando with a mix of pure shock and affection.
"Lan," he whispered, the nickname leaving his lips without a second thought. There was a little warning in his tone as he spoke, though there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Lando's heart went racing as he realized his mistake. The grandstands, the fans, the other drivers, the camera pointed directly at them, waiting for something else that would break every headline in motorsports and outside of that.
But when he looked at Oscar once again, the soft look of adoration in his eyes and a smile that said 'we're in this together. I got you.' he relaxed slightly and leaned back, grinning despite the chaos rising all around them.
"Well," he said under his breath, "Guess that's out now."
Oscar let out a laugh at that. "So when did you decide to hard launch our relationship, huh? Didn't think I would have wanted to know about it before you threw us off the cliff?" He leaned back, his arm now resting on Lando's knee, who simply shrugged but smiled anyway.
Within minutes, the internet had turned into a hurricane. The photo spread faster than any race highlight ever could. Lando leaning forward, Oscar looking his way, the unmistakable moment of connection caught in perfect clarity.
The headlines read:
“Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri — McLaren’s secret romance?”
“The kiss that tilted the paddock!”
While they were out, enjoying the driver's parade in their ridiculous little vehicles, The PR team lost their minds. Phones buzzed endlessly and statement were drafted, deleted and redrafted. The whole McLaren team tried to stay calm, to remind everyone that professionalism on track was still the priority.
But when they returned from the driver's parade, the atmosphere in the McLaren hospitality unit was electric, but not in the good way. It was pressured and made your heart rate go up, whether you liked it or not.
The second Lando and Oscar stepped through the doors, still wearing their parade smiles, because they had that much fun, and the faint blush of shared embarrassment, they could feel the tension thick in the air.
Conversations stopped. Heads turned. A few mechanics tried and failed to act casual, pretending to check data on their tablets. Someone muttered something under their breath that ended in a poorly stifled laugh.
And then came the PR storm.
“Lando! Oscar!” McLaren’s Head of Communications, Emily, called out in that deceptively calm tone that meant she was on the edge of combusting. “Office. Now.”
Lando winced, glancing over at Oscar as if to say you first, but Oscar just sighed, giving him a light shove toward the small meeting room tucked behind the hospitality area.
"Traitor." Lando said before moving anyway, Oscar hot on his heels.
The moment the door closed, Emily exhaled sharply and dropped into the nearest chair, already pulling up her iPad.
“I assume you both know what I’m about to say,” she began. “Because half the internet has already seen it.”
“Yeah,” Lando admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. “The… uh, kiss.”
“The kiss,” she echoed in annoyance, tapping her screen to pull up a thumbnail of the now-viral photo, the two of them caught mid-moment, Lando leaning forward, Oscar half-turned, both of them unmistakably happy for two people who just got caught kissing on live television.
“We’ve got it from ten different angles already. Sky Sports, F1TV, and about a thousand fan accounts. You two have officially broken the internet.”
"Sick," Lando whispered, but Oscar shoved his elbow into his boyfriends ribs. "Not now," he replied sharply before turning towards Emily.
“So… what’s the plan?” Oscar asked, his voice ever so calm. Lando thought he was going to be sick with how fast his heart was beating now, and he wasn't lying if he said he was a bit jealous of Oscar's calm demeanor.
“The plan,” Emily said sharply, “is to survive the next twenty-four hours without the team’s sponsors calling me in tears. We’re getting messages from everywhere. Mastercard wants to confirm if this is an official announcement. The social team’s analytics dashboard looks like a fireworks display. And Zak is in a meeting with F1 execs trying to figure out if this violates any broadcast protocols.”
Lando blinked. “Broadcast protocols? For a kiss?”
He thought this was all a little bit much for something as small as a kiss that didn't even last a second, but hey, what did he know?
Emily gave him a look that could have cut carbon fibre. “For a public relationship between two drivers who are teammates in the middle of a championship battle. Do you have any idea what this means for brand image, team media obligations, or—”
She was definitely close to losing her shit.
“Emily,” Oscar interrupted gently, his voice steady but firm, “we know it’s complicated. We didn’t plan it. It just… happened.” He tries to explain.
Lando gave a quiet laugh. “Yeah, you looked too good not to.”
Oscar elbowed him again, but this time more lightly, but even Emily’s scowl softened just a little at the way Lando looked at Oscar.
After a pause, she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before speaking up again. “Look, I’m not here to yell at you. Honestly, we’ll handle the PR side. We’ll draft a statement, something about privacy and respect for personal lives. But I need to know, from both of you, is this serious?”
That question hung in the air. The kind that mattered more than all the noise outside.
Lando and Oscar exchanged a glance, and something unspoken passed between them. A silent yeah, definitely.
Lando was the first to nod. “It is.” He sounded final.
"In all honesty," Oscar then started. "We've been dating for almost a year. Nobody knew because we made boundaries back then. It has worked so far."
Emily froze mid-tap on her tablet, eyes flicking between them like she was trying to decide whether to scold them or congratulate them. “A year?” she repeated, voice dropping like she didn't quite believe them.
“You’re telling me you two have managed to keep this a secret for a year? Through every media day, every post-race debrief, every bloody team dinner?”
Lando couldn’t help but grin. “We’re that good at strategy,” he said lightly, earning a small, incredulous laugh from Oscar beside him.
Emily leaned back in her chair, clearly trying to process that revelation. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, though her tone had softened now, less furious PR manager, more reluctantly impressed.
“I have drivers who can’t hide a hangover for twelve hours, and you two pulled off a full-blown relationship under the cameras’ noses.”
Lando laughed at the way she looked so defeated by all of this new information.
"The world doesn't need to know everything, right? I don't tell them when I wipe my ass, either, because it is none of their business." Lando said with a proud grin.
Emily grimaced at that before looking back at Oscar, who rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish.
“It wasn’t about hiding. It was just… ours. Away from all this.” He gestured vaguely toward the window, where flashes from photographers still lit up the motorhome’s glass. “We didn’t want it to change how we work. How people see us.”
For the first time since they’d walked in, Emily’s expression softened into something almost sympathetic. “I get that,” she said quietly. “But now that it’s out there, things will change. People will read into every move, every radio message, every pit strategy call.”
Lando straightened in his chair, the easy humor fading from his face. “Then let them,” he said simply. “We’ll handle it.”
Oscar nodded beside him, calm as ever, but there was a subtle tension in his jaw that Lando recognized, the quiet readiness of someone bracing for impact.
Emily studied them for a moment, then finally nodded too. “Alright. Then we protect each other. That’s the rule. You keep it professional on track, and we’ll manage the rest. Deal?”
They both agreed, and the tension in the room eased a little.
Only then did she push back her chair and stand, the flicker of a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “But for the love of God, please, no more surprises mid-broadcast?”
Lando laughed under his breath, glancing at Oscar with a look that was equal parts apology and affection. “No promises,” he said, and the tension in the room finally broke enough for all three of them to fully breathe again.
The moment they stepped back out, the paddock chaos returned tenfold.
Cameras were waiting. Reporters were hovering by the motorhome, pretending to be “just passing by.” A Sky Sports producer waved them down, mouthing quick word? Just one question!
Lando wanted to reach for Oscar, but decided against it. Instead he sighed and lowered his cap over his eyes. “We’re never hearing the end of this, are we?” He asked Oscar who stayed close to him.
Oscar smirked, brushing past him toward the garage. “Probably not. But at least now everyone knows I’m the one driving you crazy.”
Lando chuckled, following him in. The noise of the crowd, the thrum of engines, and the scent of fuel filled the air again. Mechanics moved around their cars, focused as ever, pretending the entire internet wasn’t melting down outside.
And maybe, for now, that would be their best bet as well.
But amidst all the noise and chaos, there was still that quiet, grounding energy between them. As they suited up, helmets in hand, Lando caught Oscar form across the garage, focused on something his engineer is telling him. The 81 on his back somehow making Lando's heart beat a little faster. Because that number over there, on the other side of the garage, was his biggest competitor, but also his biggest supporter and just entirely his to have when they would return to either of their hotelrooms later tonight.
Oscar then turned around, as if he felt Lando's eyes burning into his back, and winked. The look in his eyes telling him 'we're in this together. Don't worry.'
So Lando gave a quick nod and looked away, toward his car, towards the number four on the front of it. Because boyfriend or not, he was going to beat Oscar to the championship this year.
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