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By the time Lando’s done with all his interviews and speeches and is actually heading to the club, he’s well on his way to being drunk.
The spiked monster he’d kept with him for all his interviews was long empty, and whatever liquor his mechanics had poured into it worked in tandem with the champagne to leave Lando’s head loose and buzzing.
They were heading to a party his team had set up, minimal cameras, endless drinks, good music, almost all of his favourite people in one place. A perfect combination for Lando to celebrate the moment he’d been dreaming of since he’d decided to be a Formula 1 driver all those years ago.
All he really wanted to do though, was see Oscar.
But he hadn’t seen Oscar since after all the podium stuff, and the initial celebrations.
He hadn’t seen Oscar, not really, in a good few months.
–
It was meant to be casual.
It was casual, at first. A way for release for two closeted athletes who couldn’t afford to risk anything.
It helped that Oscar was maybe one of the most beautiful people Lando had ever seen. He wasn’t religious, but he felt like there had to be somebody he could thank for the man who fell into bed beside him. It felt like Oscar had been crafted by hand with love and devotion, his muscles looked like they were carved carefully into marble, his hair soft and smooth like silk, his moles and freckles meticulously placed around every inch of his body.
The first time it happened, it was meant to be a drunken mistake after a shared podium, never to happen again.
But they did it again, and again.
They’d never stay the night, always sneaking out of the other’s hotel room or apartment in the early hours of the morning.
It was meant to be an easy arrangement. The world of motorsport was too fast-paced, too relentless to allow for connection anyway. At least that’s what they’d both been naive enough to believe. Oscar was just an easy way for Lando to get his dick wet and satisfy his needs.
And that worked, for a while. They’d meet up when they could, after a race, or a rare evening they were both free in Monaco. Oscar would fuck Lando, or get off in some other way, and then one of them would leave.
But when they both share the same secret, the same terrifying, career-ending secret, it’s easy to feel safe with each other. They work together every other weekend, and see each other even more often. It was impossible to think they could ever remain casual when they’re so close, all the time.
Lando knew he’d felt something more than lust-filled attraction for Oscar for a while. It had been growing and growing, even from the deep parts of himself he’d buried those feelings into. Every glance, every touch, every kiss only fueled his infatuation, until his body burned with desire from the inside.
Until every part of Lando was falling apart the longer he kept his love hidden from Oscar.
Because that's what it was. The feelings Lando had been pushing away and denying for the last year.
Love.
Lando loves Oscar. More than anything; more than his career, more than his championship.
The way Lando loves Oscar should be impossible, when they’re always going to be pitted against each other. And yet, he loves Oscar like the moon loves the sun, like he couldn’t quite exist without him, without this love.
It should never work. Not with their careers. Not with how they would have to hide.
But, when Lando watched Oscar run out of his apartment for the last time, he couldn’t think of anything other than how much he was willing to try.
–
Lando had just finished listening to ‘We Are The Champions’ for what must’ve been the third or fourth time that night. He’s being held in the air by some of his friends, and there’s a huge, childish grin on his face.
He’d lost track of how many drinks he’d had a while ago, but that doesn’t matter when it’s the end of the season and he’s the fucking world champion.
It feels like there’s an invisible barrier between Lando and the rest of the party. His head is buzzing and his face is numb. The music is loud enough that the baseline runs through his bones, and is the only real thing he can feel. It’s like he’s underwater, drowning in the music and the people and the heat. He loves it.
The lights around him flash too much for him to be able to focus on anything concrete as he’s put down while the next song starts. It feels a bit like he’s floating through life, lighter than ever now that he’s finally proven himself, with no real tether to earth. In this moment, he never wants to feel another way.
He doesn’t have the time to think too hard about his regrets, or his missed opportunities. He can’t think about the all-consuming love he feels when his head barely even feels attached to his body.
Before Lando can linger on those thoughts for too long, Max appears in front of him, Keegan not too far behind, twin grins on their faces. Seeing them so happy for him, despite the slight drunken, far-away look in Keeg’s eyes, reminds Lando of why he’s here, he’s a world champion.
“I’m a world champion!” He shouts at Max’s face.
“You are!” Max responds, and pulls him in the direction of more shots.
Lando Norris is a world champion, he doesn’t have the time to worry about ex-championship rivals who’ve irreparably broken his heart.
That thought, just like the shot, burns as it goes down.
He turns back to the dance floor, and throws himself into the crowd of people who love him, people who are there specifically to celebrate him.
He’d made the guestlist a week before the grand prix, when his team were finally just about confident enough to start making plans. Naturally, the whole team was on it, his family, his friends who were flying out to support him in person.
He’d also put Oscar on it. Just in case.
They hadn’t spoken outside of team briefings and media obligations. But a not-so-small part of Lando wanted Oscar there, celebrating with him, more than anything. He couldn’t quite let go of the hope that Oscar might show up.
He still can’t.
–
Lando had stopped drinking when he’d felt sufficiently numb. He wasn’t stupid, and he actually wanted to remember the night and the celebrations.
He doesn’t quite know what the time is, just that it’s late enough that his parents and his manager have left. The song that’s playing doesn’t hit quite as much as the previous, and Lando takes it as an excuse to head to the bar to get something non-alcoholic. On his way to the bar, he glances towards the entrance, and freezes.
There, stood almost paralysed in the middle of the swaying crowd, is Oscar.
And Lando? Lando just stares.
Oscar stares back.
All the feeling slams back into Lando’s body, shocking his brain into something close to sobriety. Lando blinks, almost convincing himself that the Oscar currently standing across the room from him is a hallucination, a cruel figment of his imagination.
Oscar’s still there when he opens his eyes.
The party keeps going around them, bodies swaying drunkenly to the music, lights flashing blue, purple, red. But it all fades into the background. He can still feel the bass pumping through his bones, but it’s like he’s gone deaf. All his other senses have dulled so that Lando can fully take in the sight of Oscar Piastri, at a party dedicated to him.
And what a beautiful sight it is. Lando doesn’t think Oscar’s looked any more beautiful than in this moment.
His hair, usually in a perfect swoop in front of his face, was roughed up from a hand going through it too many times, a habit Lando noticed when Oscar was particularly stressed or nervous. His face was the picture of anxiety, slightly furrowed brows and lips that had clearly been bitten by worrying teeth. To anyone else, Oscar looked exactly like he would on any other day, but Lando could see the thoughts racing through his mind. Lando hoped he wasn’t being optimistic by seeing what looked like a glint of hope and desperation in Oscar’s eyes.
It’s that glint that makes Lando tilt his head towards a corridor, away from the party, before turning and walking in its direction. He doesn’t look back to see if Oscar follows, he doesn’t need to.
It takes a minute for Lando to find exactly what he was looking for. A quiet, secluded corner that no one will come to look for him, or Oscar, he supposes. He finally turns around and meets Oscar’s eyes, ones that, upon closer look, are surrounded by heavy bags and shining with tears. Lando hates that he’s probably the cause of that.
When Oscar just meets Lando’s eyes back, and makes no move to speak or leave, Lando decides he can’t stay in this purgatory forever.
“Oscar…” Is all he manages to get out before he feels his throat getting clogged and tears welling in his eyes.
“Lando,” Oscar says, with so much love and reverence that Lando can’t quite keep a few tears from falling. “I’m so sorry, Lando.”
Oscar reaches for Lando’s cheeks, and even though he should flinch away, or run back to the party, he stays, and lets Oscar brush the tears from his cheek. His touch is gentle, like he’s scared to break the fragility of the moment, like he’s worshipping Lando.
“I can’t-” Lando stutters, but he’s quickly interrupted.
“Please, Lando.” Oscar begs, “I can’t live without you. I tried, I really tried. But I can’t.”
“Osc…”
“I just lost the championship of my life and the only thing I could think of was how much I miss you, how much I need you.” Oscar whispers, like he’s scared to admit it, “I need you so much Lando. I- I love you.”
“Oscar…” Lando can hardly bring himself to say anything else. Not when Oscar just uttered the same words he’d been thinking for months. Not when Oscar is standing in front of Lando, cradling his jaw, with tears streaming down his face as he bears his soul, broken and raw, just for Lando.
“Please,” Oscar continues desperately, “you don’t have to feel the same way. But I- I can’t lose you again. I messed up so much, and I’m so sorry. I will always be making it up to you, but Lan, I just- please.”
“Oh Oscar,” Lando says, and he still can’t quite get the proper words out, so he does the next best thing, and presses his lips to Oscar’s.
He can feel the way Oscar relaxes as Lando strengthens the kiss, loosening the hold he’d had on Lando’s face, but keeping his hands there, as though Lando may leave as soon as they stop touching.
It may just be the best kiss of Lando’s life, the two of them pouring months of helpless pining and loving devotion into their moving mouths. It feels like the end, like a bittersweet goodbye to what once was. But it also feels like the beginnings of something new, sparking to life between them after years of hiding away in the shadows.
When they finally pull back, biology forcing them to breathe eventually, Lando rests his forehead against Oscar’s and lets their breaths intermingle, dancing across each other's smiles.
“I love you too, Osc,” Lando finally says, “so much.”
He hears Oscar release a desperate sigh of relief, before they crash their mouths together again. It feels like Oscar is trying to become one with Lando, not that he’s complaining.
–
Eventually, they head back to the main party, where the music has picked back up and Max is waiting for them with drinks.
“Oscar!” He shouts, “I’m surprised you’re here!”
Oscar laughs with the freedom of someone who’s dreams all just came true, Lando can relate. “Lando kept mentioning me in his interviews, all this stuff about wanting to celebrate with me, so I figured I’d see what the fuss was about.”
And, oh.
Lando forgot about all the interviews he’d given before coming to the club; they’d all blended together in his mind. He hadn’t quite realised how much he’d brought up Oscar.
“Mate!” Max shouts, delighted, “Let’s get some more drinks in both of you, the night is still young and we have a championship to celebrate!”
After they watch Max run off to the bar, Lando turns back to Oscar, “Sorry, I didn’t realise how much I’d mentioned you. I- I just didn’t really want to celebrate without you. I guess that came through in my interviews.”
“Lan,” Oscar says, more fondly than he should in public in a country and sport rife with homophobia and gossipers, “it’s actually what gave me the push to come here in the first place.”
“Oh.” Lando says smartly, “well then, Mr Piastri, let’s celebrate!”
He grabs Oscar’s hand and drags him in the direction of the bar. He’s got another few hours of partying in him for sure.
–
When Lando wakes up the next morning, he feels warm. He also feels a bit nauseous and his head is pounding, but he mostly feels warmth spreading underneath his body.
He burrows his head back into the warmth, desperate to savour the first time he’s woken up with Oscar, not before or after him. He can feel the sunlight brushing against his skin from where he hadn’t drawn the blinds last night. He can feel his head moving up and down with every breath Oscar takes as it lays there on his chest. Lando doesn’t think he’s ever woken up quite this at peace.
It doesn’t take long for Oscar to stir, bringing a lazy hand up to Lando’s curls to play with them gently. When Lando looks up at Oscar’s face, he finds Oscar already staring back, a small smile resting on his lips. Lando can’t help but pull himself upwards and plant a small kiss there.
“Good morning,” Lando says, contented.
“Good morning,” Oscar responds, fondness flowing through his words, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Lando says as he leans upwards to lovingly kiss Oscar again, because finally he can.
Soon enough, they’ll have to have a much more serious conversation about their love. About where they stand with each other, after all the hurt they’ve caused. About how to fit it into their ever-changing lives, and how to hide it away from the harshness of the sport they both chose to dedicate their lives to.
But for now, Lando is more than happy to keep kissing the love of his life, who kisses back with just as much enthusiasm, morning breath and all.