a little choscar for the absolute stress and happiness Oscar and Charles gave me in Suzuka. With minimal effort and plot
And to try and distract me from how awful Ollie's weekend ended up being
Oscar felt the grip on his shoulder before he noticed anyone behind him. He turned to find Charles’ blinding smile right behind his shoulder. He couldn’t help the flicker of a smile on his own lips; something about Charles’ joy was so contagious.
“Congrats mate! P2.” Charles clapped him on the shoulder again, his green eyes sparkling.
If anything, Oscar would have said that Charles was happier then him about finally getting on the podium. That was saying something; Oscar was beginning to feel the tingling sensation of bloody pride about finally being able to race and get a podium.
“Thanks,” Oscar ran a hand through his sweaty hair, “you did well yourself!”
Charles positively beamed back at Oscar.
“I had quite a fun race actually!” He clasped his hands behind his back, swaying slightly on his heels.
Oscar thought he looked like a little child after playtime and an ice-cream. Then again, Oscar probably looked the same underneath all the sweat.
“Thanks for keeping the fight for P3 going, it saved me some time.” Oscar joked, collecting his water bottle from the stand and walking towards the awaiting reporter.
Charles laughed. “Yes, George and Lewis are quite persistent.”
Oscar smirked slightly, turning his face slightly away from the camera. “I doubt George would be too happy with P4.”
Charles nodded conspiratorially, a small grin overtaking his features.
“He can deal with it for once, let him complain.”
He patted Oscar’s shoulder again, leaning into Oscar’s space slightly.
Oscar felt his stomach playing leapfrog, the exhaustion crushed by the warm giddiness of a podium. Even though it wasn’t the top step that he thought he was going to take, P2 in his first race of the season wasn’t bad. Especially sharing a podium with Charles, who took the slight sting of the safety car away.
“Maman is going to be quite proud.” Charles spoke softly into his ear, trying to talk over the cheering crowd. “Her son and grandson on the podium together.”
Oscar laughed, the warm bubbling sound spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“Yeah… Monaco’s weekend huh.”
Charles grinned, patting Oscar’s back before being interrupted by the journalist.
“I will get you next race.” Charles whispered before shifting away from Oscar to let him answer the questions.
Oscar had no doubt he would. McLaren wasn’t exactly a tractor like Aston Martin or Cadillac, but they were a lawn mower in comparison to Ferrari or Mercedes. He’d just have to pray this was the start of good luck and great starts.
Then again, if Oscar was beaten for P1 by someone else, he wouldn’t mind if it was Charles.