“I nicked your shirt on the way out. I hope you don’t mind.”
Lando looks up to see Oscar standing in the doorway to his driver’s room, holding out an old Quadrant t-shirt that’s so worn that he pretty much just wears it to play padel or to get ice in the middle of the night at this point.
The image of it almost makes laughter bubble up in his chest: Oscar trying to be quiet as he rifles through Lando’s suitcase while he sneaks out of his hotel room in the dead of night, tossing aside neutral team kit shirts and designer tops alike to find the raggy old t-shirt that Lando’s worn to death buried in the bottom so that he can take his walk of shame to the hotel room down the hall.
But then, when he gives a touch more thought to it, it makes him go hot all over. Oscar, wearing his shirt. Not just any shirt, but one that specifically from his brand, one that he’s worn a hundred fucking times, one that anyone who knows him well would know is actually his if they saw Oscar walking by in it.
He wonders if the shirt smelled like him when he put it on, notes of his deodorant and aftershave clinging onto the fabric through wash cycles. He wonders if that’s why he chose it.
It makes something possessive rise up in him, even though he’s not meant to be feeling that way about Oscar of all people. Oscar is just the guy he sometimes shags during race weekends, fucking properly before media days and trading hand jobs and blowies when they have to worry about getting in the car. He’s a convenient stopover while Lando can’t be arsed to find a proper girlfriend that sticks. He’s no different from any of the people he takes home from clubs for a night together.
Except, it occurs to Lando that he hasn’t taken anyone home from the clubs in a bit. Not since he and Oscar turned scattered hand jobs in moments of frustration into something a bit more regular.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for Oscar to start nicking his shirts every day.
“Don’t mind at all. Sorry that you managed to find the one with a hole in one of the pits,” he says casually, even if he feels like anything but.
Oscar shrugs. “I don’t mind it. It’s not as if I was popping in for a press conference. I just needed something because my shirt was, y’know, compromised.”
That’s a nice way of reminding Lando that he absently grabbed it to wipe come off his stomach last night. Fuck, maybe if they have a quickie now, he can make the same mistake all over again and send Oscar out in his t-shirt for the entire team to see.
Except, they’ve got a meeting in ten. Might be a bit too quick of a quickie, even though the thought of Oscar wearing his clothes already has his dick twitching in his trousers.
“Sorry about that, mate,” he tells him. “You’re welcome to borrow anything you’d like. Blanket offer.”
“Thanks.” Oscar’s smile is soft, but his face is entirely unreadable. Lando hasn’t got the faintest idea if he’s feeling as crazy as he is about wearing his clothes.
“You could also just stay next time,” he adds, heart beating in his ears. He thinks he’s done a good job at playing it off as casual rather than a plea.
Oscar pauses for a second, eyes widening a touch as he must realize the implications of it. Waking up together is a line that they haven’t crossed yet— Oscar always sneaks off right after Lando falls asleep. But Lando wants to see what Oscar looks like when the morning light filters through the blinds. He wants to see how messy his hair gets when he gets up in the morning and he wants to kiss him on the mouth before they’ve had a chance to brush their teeth.
“That’d be nice, I reckon,” Oscar says finally. “Maybe tonight, then?”
Lando grins. “Tonight,” he agrees.
He nods. “I’ll be sure to bring my toothbrush.”
Oscar gives him a small wave and disappears back towards his own driver’s room and Lando buries his face in the shirt. It’s got the faintest hint of sweat in it, smells exactly like Oscar after they’ve fucked, obviously. It’s fucking delicious, in a way it shouldn’t be.
Maybe over the break, he’ll invite him back to his apartment. That way, he can actually see Oscar wearing his clothes when they make breakfast together.
One day, maybe they’ll lose track of whose shirt belongs to whom. Maybe it’ll all just be theirs.
well you know the premise of this i think. but for the class it's ten years in the future and both of them are working at mclaren. oscar is the new team principal and lando has been running the driver development programme for a number of years
“Of course, with my departure, it is my honor to announce the next Team Principal for McLaren. I am happy to welcome someone who I have loved working with during my career, with an understanding of the sport that a lot of people don’t have. Please welcome Oscar Piastri!”
He freezes. The last time he heard from Oscar was when he received a wedding invite in the mail that he promptly tossed in the trash without bothering to give him a call. In hindsight, it was pretty fucking petty, but he was still in the early stages of retirement and everything was quite confusing to him then.
The last time they properly spoke, Lando kissed him on the mouth and Oscar pulled back with apologetic words spilling off his tongue, reminding him about Lily and telling him that he’s sorry if he led him on or anything. Fucking gutting.
Part of him knew that he would probably be here, but when he hadn’t seen him around, he’d figured he’d been wrong. When asked, Oscar has always talked about McLaren positively as the place that kickstarted his career and the team that really turned him into the driver that he ultimately wound up becoming, but at the end of the day, he won three driver’s titles, and none of them were in papaya. People who aren’t Lando don’t really associate Oscar with McLaren anymore.
But now, maybe they do.
The thing is, Oscar looks really good. Lando still follows him on social media, sure, but Oscar has been almost entirely offline since he retired for the sake of focusing more on his family. He didn’t expect that Oscar would walk up there with a carefree grin, the faintest wrinkles cropping up near his eyes from the way he crinkles them a little when he smiles. His hair is still as floppy as he remembers, and he still looks slightly uncomfortable all dressed up in a suit and tie. He’s older, sure, but his early 30s have treated him kindly.
“Thank you, Andrea,” Oscar says. “Thank you for all your years with this team. I remember the feeling of winning that first Constructor’s Championship with you, how proud you were of every member of the team, even though we couldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for your leadership. You had a great career, mate, and I’m glad you get to kick back and enjoy life now. You’ve certainly earned it.”
Oscar looks out into the crowd, eyes catching on Lando for a second before he continues. “I’m excited to work with all of you this season, and hopefully many seasons after that. This is a great team, and I’m grateful to be back here rather than anywhere else, all these years later, though I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention it to the guys at Red Bull. They still throw a ripper of a Christmas party.”
The crowd laughs and Lando clenches his fists, heart beating so loud it nearly drowns out Oscar’s words.
“We’re going to have a great season together, and I look forward to working with every one of you.” For a moment, Lando can swear his eyes flicker back to settle on him. “But the season hasn’t started yet, so let’s take tonight to celebrate a great man who had a stellar career. To Andrea.”
He holds up his bottle of beer, and the crowd does too, repeating his words before settling back into the party.
as a former long term lurker (started following people in march 2021 but didn’t start posting until october) i just want to say to all lurkers considering making a blog/starting to post that i encourage you to do so!! it’s really nice to have a record of all these moments in your own place instead of just your mind or others peoples blogs!! i was really nervous about it but like it’s super fun to actually be an active part of this community!
