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Chapter Text

Brain melting. The only way to describe this lecture was brain-melting. Oscar desperately tried to take notes on mechatronics and how it affected PLCs, or something. All while Professor Webber spoke about it like it were the simplest subject in the world. Oscar was incredibly bright; that was no secret. He often topped the class results or was the first to submit an essay due to how easy it felt to him. But this? This had him completely stumped. He looked around the room to see if he’d body swapped overnight, but everyone looked just as puzzled as each other. One girl has re-done her ponytail eight times, as if adjusting her hairstyle would help the information stick in her head. The final twenty minutes dragged on like weeks, but finally, Webber shut his laptop lid closed and the entire room breathed a collective sigh.

“Now, if your brains aren’t totally fried,” Webber smiled, clearly pleased with the fact he’d managed to baffle some poor undergrads to the point of insanity, “I have some news.”
The entire class shifted, interests peaking as they gazed at the professor.
“As you know, the university hosts a bi-annual ball to showcase its best and brightest students to outside sponsors and employers. Well, as a department, we all collectively agreed that the representative for engineering would be…” he paused for obnoxiously long dramatic effect, “OSCAR PIASTRI!” He shouted, a little too overenthusiastically. The entire lecture hall turned to stare at the Aussie; he felt the tips of his ears progressively getting more and more red. Oscar did not like attention. He liked to keep himself to himself. And now, he had an entire room of people staring at him, clapping somewhat halfheartedly. Some people even looked mildly angry with him. It was just some ball? He didn’t really know why people took it so personal. The professor gestured for him to say something, but he mumbled a quick thank you before doing a thumbs up and a toothless smile. He packed up quicker than he had in his life, and practically sprinted back home to his flat, where Logan was waiting for him.

Logan was his best friend. They’d bonded over the fact that they were both terrible at cooking and had the same taste in video games. Oscar was even able to look past the fact that he was American. Most nights, they’d order takeout or have a microwave meal or occasionally cook the tomato pasta that Oscar could cook and sit in a comfortable silence while they got on with their coursework before ending the night with a round of video games until two am. Logan was more sociable than Oscar and would go out with his friends from his class, but most evenings were spent together, with the occasional crash for their friend Arthur. Logan was a sports psychology student; he’d spent his early years karting and competing in international races before deciding to leave for his own mental health. His new goal in life was to work with young athletes, especially ones who moved away from their homes so young and help them to understand their lives weren’t just equal to how they were performing on track. Logan was very passionate about this, Oscar could tell by the way he used his hands too much when he spoke.

The lock clicked in the top, and the door swung open to reveal Logan, typing rather aggressively on his laptop. His face was red as if he’d been shouting or worse, crying.
“You okay, dude?” Oscar asked as he walked into their living room. It wasn’t a large flat, but they’d made it home pretty quickly.
“They picked Franco Colapinto over me," he almost shouted, despite Oscar only being a few inches away. Logan hissed as Oscar read the email stating that this Franco character had been picked to represent his course for the ball. Oh, that was when Oscar actually realised. This ball thing was a big deal. Logan didn’t get upset over silly things. This meant something to people. Oscar quickly realised that this probably was not something to bring up tonight.
“Ahh, dude. I’m so sorry,” Logan met his eyes and instantly broke into a smile.
“You were chosen for engineering, weren’t you?” He spoke plainly, a clear sense of pride on his face. Oscar scrunched his face in that way he so often did when he was embarrassed or happy or sometimes both, and Logan launched himself across the sofa, pulling him into a hug. Oscar squirmed for a minute, making Logan let out a loud laugh followed by a stream of praise. Logan sat back, reestablishing himself for a moment, “Oscar. You have to go,” Logan urged, knowing Oscar’s casualness about avoiding important social events.

“It’s some uni ball, Logan, I don't need to go” Oscar sat up, not quite meeting Logan’s obviously judgmental gaze. “Besides, it was so awkward, Webber wanted me to do a speech”, he shuddered at the thought of public speaking.

“Oscar Jack Piastri. You are not getting out of this. It is not just some Uni Ball. It’s the event of the semester. Everyone who could give you a half-decent career is there. Plus, there’s free food and free alcohol,” He wiggled his eyebrow, as if that would interest Oscar in the slightest. Logan spent most of the evening babbling on about how he had to go, and if he didn’t, it’d be a disappointment for both of them, especially as Logan wasn’t even picked.

“Fine!” Oscar finally broke after about four hours, sighing over their pad thai, “I’ll go, but you have to come suit shopping with me; also, there is no guarantee I'll stay longer than an hour”. Logan jumped up, spilling a blob of soy sauce on his PJs, and let out a satisfied cheer.
“Okay, so I have class at three, but we can go tomorrow, wait for me at The Paddock, and we’ll make you beautiful Piastri”, Logan beamed. He lived for this stuff. He dressed well and always encouraged Oscar to look nicer than he did, but Oscar was content with his plain jeans and shirts, and the occasional graphic T-shirt if he was feeling a bit more out there, but he supposed this was a bit more fancy and he’d have to take Logan’s advice a little bit more on a serious outfit that could impress employers.
“Beautiful it is”, he sighed, giving in to fate.

Oscar sat at his laptop at the Paddock, the campus cafe, sipping something too sweet to be considered a true coffee. It was a cosy little space with little booth nooks to hide away from. It had the perfect lighting, not too harsh that it hurt your eyes, but also not too dim so you’d fall asleep right there at your laptop. There was one long table that ran down the centre that people usually sat at to socialise and share essay notes. Today, however, was a group of the school's brightest athletes. The school football team. British football, not the interesting Aussie rules footy.

He hated every single one of them.

They all thought they were God's gift to earth, when academically they couldn’t string together a coherent essay if their entire lives depended on it. They sat throwing around napkins at unsuspecting students or commenting on girls they found fit, making them actively uncomfortable.

Max Verstappen was in Oscar’s classes; he rarely put real effort in or showed up to class, yet somehow he got top marks, not as good as Oscar but still pretty darn good for someone who came to one lecture a month.

Charles Leclerc spent more time caring about his hair than he did about the actual football team. Oscar once sat across from him in the library, and he touched his hair fourteen times in 10 minutes. He was good-looking looking that was no question, but he didn’t have much going on in his head as he did on it.

And then there was him.
Lando Norris.
The curls. The laugh. The arrogance that could fill the whole campus.
In the first year, they’d had a little… incident— something about scholarships and privilege. He didn’t even remember the details, just the heat of the argument and how much he’d wanted to strangle him. Still kind of did.

He was loud and brash and didn’t give a shit about other people’s feelings. He still hadn’t grown up clearly. Everyone knew him, and over half of the people who knew him had slept with him.

He eyed them from his corner booth as they blew tiny balls of tissue paper at their teammate George, who was clearly the butt of all their jokes. He was tall and a bit awkward, but he was quick, and he could run the ball down the pitch quicker than anyone else on the team.
Oscar just rolled his eyes and tapped away on his project.

“Oi!” He heard someone aimed at him, but tried to ignore them; it could’ve been anyone, “Aussie!” He couldn’t exactly ignore that one.

He looked up, raising one eyebrow suspiciously.
All five of the boys stared at him, giggling under their breath.
“You off to the ball? I heard you outperformed everyone on the engineering course,” Lando asked, his voice laced with fake sincerity. Max held a laugh in, clearly Oscar was SO interesting they’d discussed him outside of school.

“Yeah. I’ll save a dance for you, Lando. I promise,” Lando looked pissed off, but the rest of the team stifled a laugh. “Besides, isn’t it only people who perform well academically? I’m shocked you even know what that is”

Lando furrowed his brow, pursing his lips, something mean dancing on the tip of his tongue.
“They invite the school's main source of income, you know. We bring in more money than your entire course combined,” he smirked. Even more reason not to go, he’d have to listen to the dean glaze the “prize-winning” team as he so often did, making every student at the university know the football team were the untouchables.

“You know you have to actually wear a suit? You even have the money for one of them?” He shot back. Oscar just smiled politely and closed his laptop as he saw Logan walking through the coffee shop doors.
“Lando, if you wanted me to be your date, you should’ve just asked,” and with that, Oscar walked away as the table erupted into laughter, with Lando furiously scolding them.

The store smelled of old wood and something expensive. A linger of Sauvage or Christian Dior swirled around the crisp pressed suits and matching ties.
Logan paced around each display as if he were an expert, holding colour swatches up to Oscar’s complexion and shaking his head at each choice. Oscar followed behind, aimlessly, praying this whole God awful experience would come to an end soon. He felt 14 again with his mum shopping for his first school dance, only to go home after thirty-five minutes.
Each suit was a noise Oscar couldn’t decipher, sometimes a grunt, usually a grumble and ever so often a pleased hum. Eventually, they reached the back changing rooms of the store, where an older gentleman started measuring every inch of Oscar.
“You have an unusually large neck for the rest of your proportions, sir”, the assistant said, pulling the tape measure from around his neck and noting down the size.
Oscar wasn’t exactly scrawny anymore. He’d learnt how to build muscle and couldn’t really fit into any of his old dress shirts any more. He liked the gym and running; it gave his mind a break from all the thinking. He knew he was attractive, sure, but he’d never really figured out the whole dating pool. He'd kissed girls and boys, and he didn’t really like to put a label on his sexuality. Of course, there’d been people, but never anything serious. Besides, he was too busy with school for any kind of serious relationship.

Eventually, after what felt like sixty different combinations, both Logan and Oscar had agreed on a navy blue suit with a little pocket square (at Logan’s request) and a blue shirt to go with it. Oscar had even been talked into a pair of dress shoes that would “work for any and every occasion”
“You look good, Piastri”, Logan smirked, placing his hands on his shoulders as Oscar stared at himself in the mirror. Logan was right, Oscar did look good. It was weird, he’d never exactly felt “confident” in an outfit, but now he understood that sometimes clothes made you powerful.

They paid, left and ordered pizza on the bus ride home.
“Are you nervous?” Logan asked, dunking his crust into a large pool of ketchup, making Oscar physically recoil.

“I mean, I’ll just be myself, that’s the best thing I can do, right?” Oscar replied, watching Logan slather perfectly good crusts in soggy red paste.

“Maybe you, but like times by twenty. Oscar, but a bit more?” He nudged him with his foot from across the sofa. Oscar rolled his eyes, but silently agreed. He’d heard they’d be people from Formula One at this event, that was his dream: to become a race engineer or work in that sport; he had to impress everyone.

And that night would’ve been perfect if it hadn’t been for Lando Norris.

Chapter Text

Oscar fiddled with his cufflinks over and over again. He couldn’t get them perfect. He found he had a tendency to ensure things were ‘perfect’ and when he couldn’t it really irked him. 

The pocket square wasn’t sitting right either. He stared at himself in the mirror picking everything not ‘perfect’. 

That was it. He wasn’t going. 

Luckily, Logan was there to talk sense and more importantly talk fashion. He fixed the cufflinks until they were just to Oscar’s standards and sprayed that silly sea spray (or whatever it was called) into his hair to give it the right look that he only let Logan used when they were going out. 

He adjusted and readjusted a dozen times before taking a step back to admire his masterpiece. 

      “Beautiful Piastri” he fake winked, which made Oscar pull that dumb grin. 

Logan was as straight as they come, not homophobic but he didn’t care who Oscar brought home, just as long as they made him happy. Oscar had thought maybe he had a crush on Logan very early into their first year, which he quickly realised was admiration and friendship and absolutely nothing else. He and Logan made jokes about it from time to time, but never spitefully. Logan loved Oscar like a brother. And absolutely nothing else. They’d made that very clear very early on.

Logan snapped a few photos of Oscar on his phone to ‘mark the occasion’ which made Oscar roll his eyes. Logan was always more sentimental than Oscar. He’d take napkins from restaurants because it was a ‘memory’.

Oscar took one last look at himself in the lift mirror. He looked good. Professional, but not cold and unfriendly. He did have to admit, he felt pretty cool wearing a suit. Maybe he’d start taking Logan’s fashion advice a bit more. The lift dinged to the bottom floor and Oscar made his way through the reception of his building, trying desperately not to scuff his freshly polished shoes on the marble floors. Despite usually being a “tight bastard” in the words of some of his friends, he opted against the bus or the bike he usually took to school and paid the eight pounds fifty it took for an uber.

The campus route looked different in the evenings, more romantic. The setting sun cast a beautiful orange haze over the traditional Victorian buildings. He watched as some students dared to brave the April chill to feel a glimpse of summer creeping in. Some of the trees were a rosy pink colour, while the leaves had started growing back in vibrant shades of green onto others. 

Oscar pulled up to the schools entrance that had been done up special for the occasion. Lots of other fancy cars and expensive looking people were milling about, holding glasses of something that looked expensive. 

He steadied his legs as walked up to the front doors as he’d done so many times before only this time it actually felt meaningful, like it had an impact on his future. The whole foyer had been transformed into what felt like a fancy hotel entrance, with large chandeliers installed and a long table with glasses of expensive Prosecco and appetisers. Oscar took two glasses and hoped no one saw as he backed both of them as quickly as he felt the warm liquid trickle into his empty stomach. Confidence, or so he hoped. 

He plastered a grin on his face, letting his cheeks settle in something that felt somewhat natural.

From across the heavily decorated university theatre, he spotted Professor Webber, yapping away to someone that looked important. He watched as he placed a hand on the man’s arm, and laugh. Properly laugh. He’d never really seen him look this comfortable before. He made a beeline for him and the man in the sharp grey suit and salmon pink shirt with maybe one too many buttons undone. 

The guy was handsome, with sandy blonde hair and a beard, he didn’t look old so much as experienced. He caught Oscar’s eye as he marched over the professor. 

“Oh! Oscar!” Professor Webber smiled, a glint of something scheming in his eyes, “Sebastian, this is Oscar, the student I was telling you about. Oscar this is my…” he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of Oscar, “friend and business partners Seb”

‘Seb’ extended his hand and Oscar shook it firmly. A grin grew across seb’s face now. 

“Lovely to meet you Oscar. Mar-.” He caught himself, a brief look of annoyance crossed the professors face, “Professor Webber said you were interested in working in formula one, is that right?” He asked, stepping slightly away from the professor next to him 

“Uhh yeah, I really do” Oscar tried not to completely embarrass himself, “I’ve been a fan since, God knows when. I’ve always loved cars and going fast. I would’ve want to drive, that’s way too much pressure, but if I could do some kind of strategy or something to do with components I’d love that” 

As Oscar was speaking a grin grew across Seb’s face. He’d been waiting for someone like this.

“Never wanted to drive?” Seb probed, passing Oscar a glass of Prosecco from the passing waiters tray, guiding him toward an empty table. 

“I did a bit of karting as a kid, I won a bit, but I’m far more interested in how it all works and what the bits do. I just love putting a strategy together and finding ways to make things better. If you understand me?” Oscar was trying to express how much he loved the sport, how much passion he had. He truly loved race cars, he was just happy to speak to someone who looked  like they understood. 

“Well, Mark said you were brilliant but I don’t think he truly conveyed how passionate you were” Seb leaned back in his chair. Mark… so they were close. Oscar suspected that they were more than just ‘business partners’

“How do you know Professor Webber?” It was Oscar’s turn to ask some questions. That liquid confidence bubbling slightly in his stomach. 

Seb smiled slightly. Tapping the sign of his nose. Oscar watched as the man’s gaze fell onto the professor, a flicker of something else in his eyes. 

Oh. Oh

Oscar returned a smile and mimicked zipping his lips closed. 

Him and Seb chatted for what seemed like forever, they talked through the whole dinner period, about everything and nothing really. Oscar knew he was supposed to speak to all the guests, but none of them seemed as genuinely intresting as Seb. They talked until the dean stepped up to the microphone with a huge round of applause, which meant by social standards they had to listen. 

Of course there was the usual arselicking and bragging about pointless bullshit. Then there was the fifteen minute novel about how great this schools football team was. Oscar caught Lando’s gaze during this parade of praise, he had this pride in his eyes Oscar had never seen before. His smile looked genuine, like something in his life wasn’t a performance. As much as he hated him, Oscar sometimes wished he could know more about Lando. About what he was thinking, why he was the way he was, because surely he’d not been this performative his whole life? Had he?

Something quite bubbled in Oscar’s stomach seeing him like this, but he chose to blame that feeling on the alcohol. As soon as Lando realised it was Oscar he made a face, rolling his eyes over dramatically. Ah, so he was still Lando. 

That fizzy feeling quickly dropped to dread. Why the hell was he even here? Of all people Oscar Piastri did not belong here. His knees began to bounce beneath the table and he rubbed his palms together. He was suddenly deeply aware of how many people were in this room. He darted his gaze around the smartly dressed people and how out of place he was. His breathing quickened, pressing his palms into his eyes. Suddenly he felt a steady hand on his shoulder, breathing deeply next to him. He followed in response, steadying his own breathing. 

“Anxious?” Seb whispered next to him, Oscar nodded, smiling weakly, God he’d embarrassed himself infront of Seb, “It’s natural, lots of pompous bastards here” Seb nudged him gently. Oscar felt safe. Seb continued to breathe with him until the speech ended. 

“Mark is the same at these things. You’re alike you know” Seb smiled, as the Professor appeared at Seb’s shoulder, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, wincing at the use of his first name. 

“Professor Webber!” He reiterated sharply. 

Seb rolled his eyes playfully, “Yes yes, whatever you say Doctor. He’s a smart lad, probably smarter than you.  I’m sure he already knows your first name.” Oscar held his hands up in fake protest, acting completely innocent. 

“Look Oscar, we won’t keep yapping away to you, I’m sure you’d rather be making your way to the after party” Mark squeezed Seb’s shoulder, who bolted up, taking Mark’s hand.

“What that is code for, Oscar, is Mr Introvert over here is ready to go home because he’s stayed past his obligated hours” All three of them laughed, “Listen. You’re brilliant. And I think you have a future in formula one. I’ll be in touch” He extended his hand which Oscar shook a little too enthusiastically. Seb had never mentioned he worked in F1. That puzzle must have spread to Oscar’s face, because Mark just laughed and hit Seb, playfully of course. 

“You didn’t tell him what you did you idiot!” 

“Oh Oscar! I’m so sorry how could I?” Seb knew he’d done it on purpose, “I’m work for the Red Bull formula one team, but I know a lot of teams that would take you instant, so let me make some calls and I’ll see what I can do” Oscar’s jaw dropped a little before he released. 

Take you in a instant echoed through his head 

All he could say was Thank You as the pair made their way through the crowd to the exit. Shit. Maybe this was an actual shot. 

An after party was exactly Oscar’s scene, but hey, you were only a uni student with little to no responsibilities once, right? He was already on a high that couldn’t be brought down, so he decided tonight was the one night he could have fun. He found George, who would spill anything with a little bit of wing manning, talking away to a guy he didn’t recognise, he was a little taller than Oscar with tanned skin and dark eyes that were watching George overly use his hands as he explained some kind of football strategy with pure adoration. 

“Hey Russell” he cut in. George smiled, clearly just happy to he acknowledged, “Everyone’s saying  you’re the guy to ask about the after party?” The guy next to him eyes widened, letting out a tiny breath. George puffed up his chest, obviously happy that the guy was impressed with this. 

“Uh yeah that’s me. Why you want in Oscar?” He beamed, trying overly hard to be casual. 

Oscar nodded, nonchalantly, acknowledging the guy next to him, who was clearly too caught up in George’s story to notice. 

“Yeah, give me your phone, I’ll give you the address. Bring your own drinks and maybe lose the jacket” Oscar passed him his phone, as George began typing something. His large thumbs padding careful on the screen. The guy next to him just stared at him in adoration. His black hair sat perfectly. George handed the phone back, a smile on his face and a hint of thankfulness in his eyes. 

Oscar nodded a thank you, “hey hopefully see you there George and… sorry I didn’t get your name?” 

He asked the guy, now inched closer to George. 

“Oh.” He snapped back into the room, “Alex. Veterinarian studies” he smiled briefly at Oscar before turning his eyes back to George. 

“Alex. Oscar” but it was definitely too late the pair were already yapping away about something or other. 

The party itself was close to Oscars and he contemplated home and changing, and picking up Logan for moral support. All the so called sponsors has dried up now and it just seemed they all under the same general consensus that now the kids got to party. 

Afterparty? 

You can pick my outfit??

Oh my God I thought you’d never ask. Vodka is in the fridge. Let’s get crazy. 

Oscar swung home, peeling off the top layer of his jacket. He’d enjoyed the look of the suit but he was ready to be in something a little more comfortable and the dress shoes were starting to pinch on his feet.

When he stepped into the apartment he heard  the faint noise of house music coming from Logan’s room, he was getting in the zone. On his bed, Oscar found a pair of somewhat smart jeans, a blue button down shirt and a pair of nice, not perfect but passable, air force ones Logan had talked him into getting one weekend. Oscar sprayed himself with something he’d found on sale and undid the top button. He took a quick swig out of a bottle of white wine and immediately went into the kitchen to throw back some vodka. He needed this if he was going to survive the night. 

Logan had left his famous “jungle juice” (some weird American frat thing Oscar didn’t understand) on the kitchen countertop with a little note that said drink me. Amazing. He lined up the jungle juice, a shot of vodka and a shot of something brown and foul smelling and knocked all of them back, screwing up his face at each of them. 

“Woaaahh bucko, you may wanna slow down” Logan laughed, swaying slightly as he stepped out. He got more American when he drank.  He was wearing all black, but he looked good. You could just see the waistband of his Calvin’s peaking out from above his jeans. 

He giggled a bit, walking over to the front door. 

“Come on then Piastri. Let’s get wild” he laughed, a bottle of something strong in his hand. 

The pair walked through the houses, it was only about a five minute walk, but they passed the bottle between them, each of them taking larger swigs than the other. 

The house, was unlike any Oscar had seen any student live in before. It was big, and had front gates that protected the drive. There were people outside on the lawn smoking something strong, and couples making out on the front steps. 

The boys took a deep breath, and stepped inside to the chaos.

Chapter Text

The house was vibrating from the music. There were people from every course, cups lying empty on tables and sticky wooden floors as you walked through the house. In one room, loads of people were gathered chatting and dancing, in another, people were playing drinking games and beer pong and in the back room, a gathering of the worst possible people. 

Oscar made a mental note to avoid the room where Lando Norris and his idiot friends were chugging beers and playing dares. He immediately mixed himself a drink of something strong, then let a guy who ‘knew what he was doing’ make him one.  He’d lost Logan, who was somewhere chatting up a girl who worked in the campus coffee shop. He’d been obsessed with her for weeks, good for him, Oscar thought; he needed a win, and she was pretty. Not exactly Oscar’s type, but tall and blonde and gorgeous. The type of girl you’d dream up as a kid when writing about your fantasy girlfriend. 

Oscar made his way around the rooms, chatting and laughing and introducing himself to people. He was clearly letting the alcohol talk (which had hit him quite heavily now), having conversations with almost anyone who came his way.  The lights were bright and colourful, making Oscar squint a little whenever he was too close to the lighting system someone had expertly rigged up. 

After seven or eight drinks, he was hammered and stumbling around the house when he spotted Alex and George on a nearby sofa. George almost sat on top of Alex. 

“Hey Piastri!” George called, waving him over. He had quite a soft spot for George; he was the only tolerable one of that awful group of people.

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour! George Russell,” he grinned rather eagerly, not 100% in control of his mind and body right now.

“We’re all playing a game in a bit if you wanna join?” George asked, genuinely, despite being hammered himself. It was funny how friendly they all were after a few drinks; usually, they’d be at each other's throats, or maybe it was the absence of a certain curly-haired prick.

“As long as I don’t have to run, absolutely!” The three of them laughed as they stumbled their way over to the beer pong table. 

Oscar hit every single shot, making Alex jump back with each hit. George was also fairly decent. People had started gathering to watch Oscar, cheering him on and taking bets. Everyone wanted to take him on. Including half the school's football team, which he had managed to absolutely smoke despite his complete lack of athletic ability. After fifteen or so winning rounds, he decided to call it a day while he was still on top and pushed through the eager crowd to sit on the large sofa where a couple had been making out moments prior. He had that drunk clarity you only get when you’re beyond the point of drunk. He thought he could solve all the world's issues right there on that couch. He was happy. He didn’t feel stressed or anxious. He just felt he could float above everything, and nothing else would matter if he just sank into this sofa beneath him.

That peaceful kind of quiet, however, was quickly ruined by a rapid Dutchman almost barrelling into him on the sofa next to him.

“Hey, Piastri!” Max put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder a little too friendly for Oscar’s liking. He didn’t push it off, just smiled tighter and greeted the Dutchman, “Hey, look, we're playing a little… game, and there's someone we know who really wants to make out with you” Max smiled like a madman. Oscar thought for a second. What was a little drunken makeout? It didn’t mean anything anyway. What the hell. He nodded and jumped up off the sofa, not wanting to look overly eager.

“You’re in? Great.” He grinned, “I told him to meet you in the bedroom, but you need to put a blindfold on before you go in, and make sure you’re quiet” Max handed him a blindfold, which was apparently part of the game. He clumsily went up the stairs, counting the rooms as best he could. The third door on the left, Max had said. 

He pushed it open, blindfold pulled down as he entered the room. He could make out the red lighting beneath his blindfold. Slowly, Oscar made his way toward the bed til he hit the edge with his knees. He sat down, hoping Logan would come in and he could take off this stupid blindfold. 

The door cracked open, and he heard a similar set of footsteps and the bed dip with the weight of someone else. 

“Look, I know this is stupid, but my friends said you were waiting for me, and well, they like stupid games like seven minutes in heaven, but if I'm completely, I think I’ve liked you for a while, I just wasn’t sure how to go about it, and I guess this felt like the best way. Sorry about the blindfolds, I get shy ” Oscar couldn’t place the voice,  but a hand, a rather large hand, splayed across his thigh. 

Oscar felt the person next to him shuffle closer, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his thigh.

The obscenely large hand reached for his shoulders as he pulled him closer toward the mystery guy. He smelled expensive, and his breath smelled like spearmint toothpaste. 

Oscar reached for the guy's face and kissed him gently on the lips. He felt the mystery man’s lips turn up as he smiled, leaning further into the kiss. It was wet and hot and a bit desperate. 

Just the way Oscar liked.

He pulled the mystery man up over his lap, deepening the kiss further, letting his arms roam. The guy was lean but strong, and Oscar ran his fingers over his biceps and across his neck, pushing him further into a kiss. The guy was doing some exploring of his own, feeling across Oscar’s chest and arms, unbuttoning slowly down. He pushed his tongue into the guy's throat, who let out a giggle as he did. Oscar pushed against him as he started grabbing onto his open collar.
“Fuck, Carlos, you’re stronger than I thought” Oscar pulled back. Carlos? He was not Carlos, yes, he was drunk, but he was sober enough to know who the fuck he was.
The guy tried to pull him back in, but Oscar couldn’t take it anymore; he pulled off the blindfold and let out a screech that made the guy leap off his lap. He yanked his own blindfold off and made a similar screech.
“Oh my fucking god. Piastri?” In front of him was Lando Norris, Curls messy from where Oscar had run his hands through them moments earlier. His lips were pink from the force of the kiss. Lando looked like he’d just had the same sobering realisation that he’d also enjoyed kissing his worst enemy. He just began shaking his head and pacing back and forth, muttering no, repeatedly under his breath. “Who sent you up here? It was Verstappen, wasn’t it, ohhh I’m gonna kill that bastard,” Lando seethed. Oscar, still shaken from his realisation, just stared blankly at the wall, praying this was some nightmare that would end soon. They stayed in complete silence for a good five minutes, until Lando sat down on the bed next to him.
“You enjoyed it, though, right?” He asked, almost timidly, as if he weren’t sure of himself. Oscar nodded, so tiny that you’d have to be really focused on him. They locked eyes. It felt like it was the first time Oscar had seen Lando. Properly seen him. He wasn’t acting for anyone; he seemed younger, like everything he was doing was an act to seem cooler than he actually was. Oscar got lost in this pool of greeny blue, inspecting every inch of his face, seeing him in this new way. 

After a few more seconds of silence, Lando stood up and walked out the door. “I’ll think of something, Piastri, just give me time”, Lando spoke with quiet determination as he put on his persona and left Oscar sitting in the dark. Thinking. 

He texted Logan that he was going home, and he made a swift exit out the front door and ran home. He turned on his shower and let the cold water cool his burning body. He thought about the way Lando sat so perfectly on his lap, his arms that were just the right amount of muscle, his lips, the way he kissed, how fucking eager he was-. Oscar keeled over, his stomach aching in dread. He can’t believe he found him hot. Sure, he was attractive, but this was Lando Norris, the guy he vowed to hate after their first-ever meeting. Yet all he could think of was the way he ran his fingers across Oscar’s chest, replaying like phantom hands over and over again. His own head was betraying him. He dried his body as quickly as he could and crawled into bed, where the shame couldn’t get him if he had a duvet over his head. 

He awoke to a sore head, several texts from Logan and someone banging down their apartment door. After 15 minutes, it clearly wasn’t passing, so Oscar made his way to the front door and, to his surprise, there stood Lando Norris. 

Lando’s eyes dipped down, taking in the sight of Oscar with no top on, just pulled from out of bed. He crossed his arms over his stomach, trying to protect a little bit of his modesty, but Lando kept staring.
“We need to date.” He pushed past Oscar frantically, sitting down on his sofa.  

“Can I help you?” Oscar scoffed sarcastically, grabbing a t-shirt misplaced on the back of a chair.

“I’ve thought of every possible solution, and we, Lando and Oscar, need to date” Oscar stood with his hands on his hips, eyebrows furrowed at such stupid nonsense. “Well, fake date”, Lando smiled, clearly trying to charm Oscar. Oscar just rolled his eyes and gestured for Lando to leave. But he persisted in a way only Lando Norris could. 

“Lando, I don’t have time to real date, let alone get tangled up in some fake dating situation for your own reputation because you can’t face the fact someone finally fucked you over”, Oscar explained, keeping a calm tone. “Also, I don’t know if you remember, but we don’t like each other, we argue all the time, we are completely different people” 

“Ahh, Oscar, my friend, that is where you are wrong.” He smirked that smirk that only became apparent when he had a plan, “We talked all night and put aside our differences after our friends trapped us in a room together” 

“Our friends?” He questioned 

“You know! Max, Charles, George, our mates” He kept this smile on his face that made Oscar uneasy, like he’d actually thought this out in depth. Something cracked on Lando’s face. “Please”, there it was again, that vulnerable kid who made Oscar cave. 

“Well, you’re going to have the give me more information” Oscar sat on the couch next to Lando as he explained this whole elaborate backstory about how they’d always secretly liked each other but never knew how to express themselves, and it wasn’t until Max pushed them together that they realised they were perfectly suited and had decided to start dating. They weren’t going to tell people straight away, give it a couple of weeks to become ‘official’, but Lando had made a whole schedule of when they could spend time together. Timings of Lando’s games, places they could go on dates, ways to ‘soft launch’ one another on their Instagrams, photoshoots to convince people, and appearances together as if they were royalty. He’d thought about this. Oscar couldn’t help but think that if he put this much effort into his academic work that he’d thrive in something that actually mattered.

“But why is it such a big deal? Can’t we just kiss and move on?” Oscar asked naively. 

“No!” Lando snapped a little too defensively, “Listen, I have a reputation to uphold, people they talk, Oscar. If people think they can get one over on me, then everything I’ve built over the past two years becomes undone by one stupid mistake,” He says, in a voice so quiet, Oscar almost had to lean in to hear him. 

“Mistake?”

“No?… Yes?… Maybe, I don’t know!” He hesitated for a second.

“Well. Let’s just start this off by apologising and saying something nice about the other?” Oscar proposed, just hoping to end the awkwardness, “Lando, I’m sorry for everything I said, and I think you’re a very dedicated person, and I appreciate how committed you are to your team” Lando smiled a bit, a little of his gap poking through as he whispered a quiet thank you.

“Oscar, I’m…” He paused for a second as if he couldn’t quite say the word, “sorry, for everything. And you’re more jacked than I thought you were” 

“That’s not a compliment?” Oscar almost laughed; he had muscle, but he was not jacked. 

“Ugh, FINE! I think you’re very intelligent and have a bright future ahead, happy?” He sighed like a brat, “You are huge, though. Like I’d have never thought you were hiding your WHAM arms in those boring hoodies” 

“Dude?” Oscar hit him playfully, but Lando acted as if he’d just taken him out WWE style.

They set a date to make an official contract (solely at Oscar’s request because he couldn’t go into this completely blind), where they’d also share their lives and set the boundaries so neither of them ever felt uncomfortable. That night in bed, Oscar had this pit in his stomach; he wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or excitement, but he knew he was in for an interesting final semester.

Chapter Text

It was the kind of weather that was too warm for a coat but too chilly for just a t-shirt. Oscar dithered at his wardrobe, indecisively staring at the choices that sat before him. It was coffee, it wasn’t that important.  He settled on a pair of semi-nice jeans, a white t-shirt and his blue Quaterzip (which Logan called his baby blanket since he wore it so much) and decided that whatever today brought, at least he could go home to leftover Thai food.
He’d made it a priority to finish all his current coursework and assignments before going to this meeting because he wasn’t letting anyone take away his chances of that F1 job Seb had mentioned. Not even fake dating, Lando Norris was going to slow him down from everything he’d worked so hard for. 

Logan was spread halfway across the couch in last night’s clothes, murmuring something incoherent. Oscar hadn’t quite told him about everything yet. And by quite, he meant not at all. He himself was still figuring everything out. Sure, he had enjoyed the kiss with Lando, even in his drunken state; it was clear Lando was a good kisser. But at the same time, this was the man he had chosen to perpetually hate until the end of time. He was trying to go into the day with a clear and somewhat ‘open’ mind, but he felt so caught out by the whole thing. He couldn’t think about it too much because he thought his head might literally fall off his shoulders. Oscar was good at a lot of things. He was good at maths, he was good at science, he was even good at lifting, but Oscar Piastri was not good at feelings or and especially not good at relationships. So here he was, in a complete tailspin, walking to make an ‘agreement’ over a fake date that stemmed from a real kiss.

It was entirely confusing. 

Spring had fully set in around campus, the leaves were back on the trees, more and more students dared to sit on the lawns, and the sun was staying longer and longer in the sky. Oscar walked to the Paddock in quiet contemplation, hoping no one would see him speaking with Lando Norris of all people and digging too far into why they had suddenly become close.
Oscar walked into the cosy store, only five minutes later than they’d planned, expecting to be the first one there, but much to his surprise, Lando was sitting waiting for him, arms folded, looking mildly annoyed.

“You’re late”, he said, pointedly as Oscar hovered over the seat across from him, “One thing we need to work on if we're doing this, Piastri, is your timekeeping skills. I like to be on time; that’s important to me”

“Oh well, I’m so sorry I can’t just focus all my time on the sport I play, I actually have assignments.” Oscar shot back. He was still Lando Norris at the end of day.

However, secretly, Oscar noted that in his head, asking if he wanted anything to drink to compensate for his lateness, which led to Lando drinking some expensive caffeinated monstrosity and Oscar drinking something that resembled something a child would make as a treat, it was overloaded with sugar and tasted less like a coffee and more like a pot of chocolate mousse. Which Lando judged heavily, obviously. 

“That cannot be good for you” he grimaced as Oscar poured a third packet of sugar into his drink. 

“Look, if this is going to work, I want to lay down some rules.” Oscar, finally breaking the clear tension between them, Lando unfolded his arms and lent in. He was clearly ready to hear Oscar out, despite his complete arrogance.

“Number 1, you can’t kiss me. Hold my hand, arm around the shoulder, fine, hugs? Great!, but you cannot kiss me,” Oscar started, his head replaying Lando’s hands and arms across his lap, as if it were still happening now.

“What about at parties?” Lando asked, curiously, lips curving into a smile.
“No, not at parties, or at your games or ever. That makes it real,” Oscar concluded.

“Okay, no kissing, got it” Lando held his hands up defensively as Oscar scribbled it down in a notebook. 

“Number 2, if you’re fake-dating me, you can’t see other people. Even if it's just a random hook up, or a drunk make out,” Lando squirmed a bit with this one. He was famously a serial dater and would kiss anyone he could get his hands on, so he could tell he would struggle with this one. Oscar paused as he watched the entire request process in Lando’s brain before finally deciding and doing a quick nod, with a tight smile to match. This one would be hard, but Oscar wouldn’t be taken for a fool. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

“A monogamy guy, makes sense”, he mumbled, which earned an eye roll from Lando. 

“Number 3, my family cannot know or find out. It’s too hard to lie to them of all people.” Lando agreed quickly on this one. 

“Yeah, I agree. Keep it a uni thing only” At least they were on the same page about one thing. 

“That’s all I got. What about you?” Oscar asked, pushing the pen over to Lando. 

“We both have to put in equal amounts of effort. I have to show up for you, and you have to show up to me. Even if you don’t want to, the effort has to be there.” Lando spoke, his voice gentler again, as if this was something he’d wanted from his actual relationships in the past. He looked softer now in the light. Oscar had never really noticed how tanned his skin was, or how he pushed his tongue through his teeth when he smiled. Oscar preferred this Lando. He thought he could maybe even be friends with this Lando.  The Lando, whose eyes alone told a million stories, you just had to look hard enough. 

Oscar nodded, agreeing to his terms. He wanted this to be fair after all. 

“We both have to be truthful. And if we think the other is lying, we have to say something” 

“Like a code word that means tell the truth?” Lando liked this idea. Oscar could tell by the way his eyes lit up. “Papaya?” Oscar offered.

“Bit random, but sure, at least it’s fun to say,” Lando scribbled on the page. His handwriting was much more chicken scratchy than Oscar’s. 

“If we want to end this, we both have to agree. And there has to be a valid reason.” Lando sounded serious about this one. More serious than before. The sheer sincerity in his voice reflected that. 

Oscar agreed, hoping that he’d be able to convince him that any reason was valid if he argued hard enough.

The two of them looked at the ‘contract’, ensuring they were both happy.  

1. No kissing under any circumstances.
2. Exclusivity between Lando and Oscar- you cannot hook up with anyone else
3. Families cannot know. No matter what.
4. Efforts must be equal for both parties 
5. No lying to each other- if someone thinks the other is lying, they say the word ‘papaya’ and it has to be a truthful answer 
6. Both parties must agree to end the relationship. 

“Perfect.” Lando signed his name obnoxiously big at the bottom of the paper, while Oscar neatly wrote his beneath. A silence settled between them as they both stared at the contract beneath them. “So. Why do you wanna be an engineer?” Lando asked casually,  as he sipped his black coffee.  

“I like numbers. I like it when things make sense. Everything in engineering has an answer. If there’s a problem, there’s a way to solve it. I like solving things,” Oscar replied. “Why do you play football?”

“Makes me feel calm.” He shrugged, not quite meeting Oscar’s eyes, “I had a lot of energy as a kid, and I got in trouble a lot. My parents didn’t know what to do with me, until someone suggested they put me in a sport, and we had a youth football team that played in the park across the road, and it became the only thing I was good at. Or at least the only thing I wanted to be good at.”

Lando spoke about football so passionately, Oscar could tell by the way he spoke about the team he supported or the way he looked so at ease talking about it, or the glimmer that shone in his eyes. It made Oscar feel warm, like he enjoyed seeing Lando care. 

“Do your parents know you’re… you know…?” Lando finally muttered. Clearly not wanting to say the word out loud. 

“Gay?” Oscar finished, Lando flinched slightly, “they don’t care, but I’ve never really put a label on myself. I’ve dated boys and girls, they just want me to be happy. Plus I have three sisters, so I think they could guess I’d have a bit of a feminine energy,” Oscar smiled. His parents, despite being across the ocean, did care about him deeply. 

“Do you miss them?” Lando asked. They could talk about their families, but Oscar could tell it made Lando a little uncomfortable, so he chose not to return the favour about his own family. 

“Yeah course I do. But I’m happy here, I’m successful here and they wouldn’t want me to be miserable if it meant I could see them more? You understand,” Lando nodded. He’d finished his drink now and was playing with the straw, picking it up and down. 

“I don’t really want to,” he started 

“That’s okay, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to with me” Oscar cut in, instinctively putting his hand on top of Lando’s, who met his eyes. Lando’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he didn’t move his hand. Oscar felt him tense up for a moment but then relax beneath the warmth of his hand. 

“Wait…” Lando snapped a quick photo of their hands together before moving his hand back to his side before things could get too awkward. 

The pair of them sat in the paddock discussing everything from childhood memories to fears to movies they wanted to see. Laughing when the other said something funny, or listening intently when the other said something meaningful. The sun was beginning to set, and the staff were clearly urging them to leave. 

“Hey so, can I maybe have your number? Just so we can stay in touch?” Lando asked as they reached the gates of the uni. 

Oscar obliged; obviously, it was a smart idea. He gave him his Instagram along with it, and the two went their separate ways. 

At least he had the whole of the break to think about this whole ordeal. 

Oscar flicked the key into the front door of his flat and was greeted by Logan, tapping his foot. When Oscar walked in, his head snappe,d and his expression was almost unreadable. He looked a little hungover still, but not enough to be worried about him. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Logan asked, voice still but still nervous. 

“Out. Seeing someone,” Logan’s face softened and his mouth formed a soft ‘o’

“Oh okay well good for you. You need some fun, you work too hard. Sorry, I just didn’t know where the hell you’d gone” he leant back onto the couch, “movie night?” 

“Sure” Oscar nodded, a glimpse of normality coming back to him all of a sudden. 

Both boys were splayed across the sofa, leftover Chinese food scattered around them. A movie neither of them were overly paying attention too. 

“When can I meet them?” Logan asked, sitting up to face Oscar. 

“At some point. It’s just the beginning so, I’m still figuring out everything” Oscar lied. He hated lying to Logan. But right now lying felt easier than telling him the whole complex ordeal of the contract or fake dating. Also it felt easier to keep things simple with Logan. He tended to ask too many questions, which Oscar really didn’t want to answer right now. 

That night in bed, he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and clicked on the profile that had most recently followed him. There was a lot of posts. Lando with his friends, a couple of shirtless selfies (which Oscar enjoyed, as peacocky as they were) he found himself going back years, 2023, 2022, the earliest from 2020. Him, and a guy he didn’t recognise, another Max. With the caption ‘my brother for life’ he looked happy. He began scrolling back up, accidentally catching his finger on a shirtless picture of Lando from at least 2023. 

‘Shit’ he whispered to himself, unliking it as quickly as he could. But unfortunately the damage had already been done. A notification popped up on his phone almost instantly.

Lando Norris 

0:34

Seen something you like? 

Never took you for a stalker piastri?

Oscar Piastri

0:35

Just wanted to make sure I knew what I was working with…

You sure like to take a photo with your top off

Lando Norris 

0:35

Well, if you got it, flaunt it, Piastri.

Which you clearly don’t because your Instagram is a barren wasteland. I was hoping for at least a shirtless selfie or a gym mirror pic 

Oscar Piastri 

0:36 

Dream on, Norris.  I got to the gym to actually work out, unlike you, who seems to only post mirror selfies 

Lando Norris

0:36

Oh yeah? When we’re back from break, I am going to out-bench you so hard you’ll cry.

Oscar Piastri

0:36

Yeah, okay, we’ll see who’s crying afterwards.

Besides, I don’t have 3,000 followers, unlike you

Lando Norris

0:37 

Well, let’s give all those people something to talk about. 

Oscar clicked back onto Instagram, a shiny orange ring around Lando’s profile. He clicked it without a second thought. 10 seconds ago, Lando posted a story. 

There on his screen was the photo Lando had taken earlier of their hands, tangled together, almost like it was real. It was the perfect soft launch, Lando Norris was a genius. Oscar clicked off his screen and rolled over. Then a horrible crash of reality hit him. 

Oh god. He was actually doing this.

Chapter Text

“Lando Norris?” Logan shouted, as he flung himself on top of Oscar, who was sleeping soundly in his bed 30 seconds prior, “The person you’re ‘seeing’ is Lando Norris?” 

Oscar rolled over, sleep still blearing in his eyes. He wished Logan would stop shouting for Christ's sake. 

“Can you leave me alone? It's early!” It was 12:35 pm. Logan was well within his rights to barge in. 

Oscar rubbed his eyes to see Logan brandishing his phone in Oscar’s face, a mix of bewilderment and amusement crossing his face. Logan smiled, like he’d figured out a big puzzle. 

“What are you talking about?” Oscar sat up, placing his blue light glasses on his face, to adjust his eyes to the brightness of the screen. On Logan’s screen was the photo Lando had posted late last night of their hands tangled together. He widened his eyes and then looked back at Logan , who was smiling manically as Oscar registered what the hell was actually going on. He forgot people would actually see this, and Lando himself would’ve probably received several messages. He didn’t exactly want to think about how he was responding right now.
“Oh yeah, we kinda kissed at that party,” Oscar said, trying with every ounce of his being to sound casual, like this wasn’t about to become a huge deal.

“Care to elaborate?” Logan asked, as if he would explode if he didn’t hear the story right then and there. 

“I got playing this stupid game and we kissed and I don’t know, talked and sort of got on?” Oscar stumbled over his words as he tried to form something that maybe Logan would believe. Luckily for him, Logan seemed to take it. 

“Well, dude, as crazy as that is, I’m happy you found someone, I guess” Oscar could tell Logan was dying to ask him a million and one questions, but he was restraining himself. Oscar sighed and rolled back over, pulling himself out of the comfort of his warm bed and into the cold, harsh reality. Logan dithered around the floor, going to speak, then stopping himself, watching Oscar very carefully as if he were planning what he wanted to say next. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before Oscar finally had enough. 

“Logs, it’s early days right now, I’m still kinda figuring it out, but anything you want to ask, just ask”, he huffed, pulling on a gym shirt and grabbing trainers. The gym was the only thing that could clear his head right now. 

Logan let out a huge sigh of relief, like the flood gates had been opened, “So were you drunk when you kissed?”

“Yes. But not when we were chatting, we sobered up by then,” He responded, each answer rehearsed with Lando’s strict script, which felt awful, following, especially in front of Logan, who was his closest friend in the world.

“Do you like… like him now then?” He asked, hanging onto the end of Oscar’s every word as if it were gospel.

“I mean… yeah, kinda. He apologised and we’re just getting to know each other and see where it goes,” which wasn’t a whole lie, he wouldn’t actively have chosen to hang out with him, but he was tolerable until this whole situation had quietly blown over and they could go back to their normal separate existences.

“Okay dude. As long as you’re happy and he doesn’t upset you, that’s all I need to know” Logan smiled, nudging Oscar’s arm, “Als,o he better not interrupt Tuesday pizza night. That’s sacred.” That tickled Oscar. At least he could still rely on his best friend even when things felt weird. 

Logan probably wouldn’t go to the gym; he was more of a ‘run in the park guy’, but he knew that meant dinner would be warm when he got home. 

Oscar arrived at the gym at the perfect time. It was quiet; there was no one on the machines he wanted to use, which was a rarity these days, especially at a London gym of all places. The whole city was overpopulated twenty-four seven. But somehow, on this magical day, it was almost empty. It was an arms and back day. Oscar’s personal favourite. He wasn’t particularly sure when or how it happened, but he’d definitely grown a lot broader in his time in the UK. He just enjoyed the gym, he supposed. It made his mind quiet, like when lifting things, he didn’t have to think about the Pareto Principle or Goodhart's Law or whatever equation was playing in his mind that day. He just got to lift or run, and his mind was taken to a place of serenity. However, at some point, peace and serenity became his dress shirts, not closing over his chest properly or needing to buy a bigger t-shirt to accommodate the growth of his back. His mind kept replaying how Lando had called him ‘jacked’ and ‘huge’. He tried to push down the feeling it gave him, because it wasn’t why he was going to the gym. He was there for peace. 

After he’d completed his final set of lat pulls, he looked at himself in the mirror, sweaty, curls starting from as they often did when his hair got damp. Fuck it. He pulled out his phone and snapped a few quick photos of himself in the mirror, but with his shirt firmly on his body, unlike Lando, who clearly enjoyed showing the world his tanned, perfect chest. He picked the one where he looked the least shit and uploaded it to his Instagram story, with the simple caption of ‘gym’ with a green tick emoji next to it. He hopped in the shower and let the sweat from his work out drain off into the hot water below. He redressed in his jeans and t-shirt and sprayed a large amount of ‘chocolate flavoured’ deodorant, which he was still getting through from last Christmas, where almost every member of his family had bought it for him after he’d mentioned one time it had smelt good. He grabbed his phone from out of his bag and looked down to see a text from Lando.

Lando Norris 

5:27

Excuse me, you’re supposed to be MY fake boyfriend. You cannot be posting things like that on your Instagram story. 

I think you’re purposely trying to kill me.

Oscar Piastri 

5:30

Was it that bad? I was trying to be like you.

Lando Norris 

5:30

No! It wasn’t bad, it was hot. 

Which is the issue, I can’t have people falling for MY fake boyfriend! 

Oscar snorted at his phone. His. Like Lando had a claim on him. Oscar chose to ignore the fact he’d said that and went back to his drive home, pushing down the thought of Lando Norris. He was not going to think about him again this break. That was a promise.

And he did relatively well. Every so often, his mind would wander back to the kiss, or the arrangement or how he sat so perfectly in Oscar’s lap, but he refused to act on those thoughts. The rest of the week-long break passed relatively easily. He did a few essays and completed some assignments, and made sure he was ahead on his reading, especially if he was going to have to spend time with Lando more this semester. He emailed a few people about graduate jobs and went to the gym, but mainly just spent time with Logan, who would ask him a new question or two every day, which Oscar would always answer with his rehearsed reply, which Logan would always take as if it were just that simple.
On his first day back, he received a text. Lando’s game. The commitments had begun. 

These commitments were the reason why he was stuck in a cold, muddy field at 9 am on a Saturday morning after the most hellish first week back at uni. He wished he were in bed, asleep, in the warmth. But instead, he was watching some boys kick a ball around a field. And for some reason, so were fifty or sixty other people. Oscar stood just far away enough not to take full attention, but still so he could be seen.
When Lando spotted him during the warm-ups, his face lit up, and he waved slightly too enthusiastically. Fuck, he was good at this pretending business. Oscar returned his wave with a little bit less force, but still all the joy he could muster for a person who had just woken up twenty minutes ago. Lando was the captain, which you could tell by his rainbow arm band, standing out garishly against his red and black kit, and he watched as Lando gave a somewhat rousing speech to the rest of the players, who all seemed to take it. Oscar knew the team was good (as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he just didn’t know how good until he saw them play. They worked in perfect harmony. Each of their passes was faultless; no one on the other team could break their line. They scored within the first fifteen minutes of the game. Each player knew what to do. Oscar understood all of a sudden. They were like a machine; each component had to do something to make the game work. George Russell had to run as fast as he could so that he could pass to Lando or Charles, so that they could score the goals. Once he understood it, he could get into it, and he found himself becoming quite immersed in the whole thing. Cheering when he had to, getting annoyed when the opposing side and hissing when they scored goals. 

Lando, obviously, was perfect. He belonged on that pitch. He ran up and down and didn’t once seem out of breath. He scored every single shot he took at the goal and made every one of the passes. He’d even got his own goal celebration, which was some kind of knee slide with a slight shake of his fists. He’d dive into his teammates and they’d lift him, celebrating his highs and motivating him during his lows. He was in every sense of the word a professional. The team had won, 4-1. After Lando had finished celebrating and was handed his man of the match medal, he bounded over to Oscar, still so much energy in his body. 

“You actually came!” He panted, a huge grin plastered on his face, that again was almost too real.

“Yeah, of course, I did!” Oscar replied, watching intently as Lando pushed his damp curls off of his forehead and dived against Oscar for a hug. Oscar let out a surprised breath before engulfing the smaller boy in a tight embrace.

“Say something nice, they’re watching,” Lando whispered in Oscar's ear, his breath hot against Oscar’s cold skin. 

“You were incredible.” He pulled back, letting his arms settle around Lando’s waist, looking at Lando dead in his eyes, “I can see why you like it so much, you’re insanely good at it” He meant that. That wasn’t just the performance. Lando’s eyes widened; he couldn’t see his friends watching, but he knew they were. 

“Thanks,, He beamed, going back into the hug. “Smooth”, Lando whispered in Oscar's ear, which made Oscar shiver a little, “You smell like chocolate” 

“Do you not like it? Oscar replied, keenly aware of the fact that the entire team was now watching this exchange. 

“No. It’s perfect, please don’t change it,” He whispered back as the entire team erupted in wolf whistles and jeers. Lando pulled away from Oscar and stuck his middle finger up at them, as Oscar blushed next to him, not used to this attention.

“Well, well, well, this is something I never saw coming”, Charles remarked, smirking dangerously, “how did this happen?” 

“I believe I am to thank for this beautiful pairing”, Max boasted, grinning like that cat that got the cream. 

“Yeah, we met at the afters of the ball. We just made out a bit and chatted, and well, we’ve been hanging out ever since.” Lando lied so casually to his friends, who all, seemed to nod along happily enough. 

“Has someone tied down the great Lando Norris?” George asked, half fake shock, half real. 

“Yeah, I guess I have”, Oscar smiled as he slid his arm around the small of Lando’s back and onto his hip bone, pulling him in closer to him. All the team broke out into applause and laughs, knocking Lando’s head and punching his arm. Only Oscar saw how he clenched his jaw during the whole exchange, his smile slightly tighter than usual. 

“Well, Oscar, you have to come to the victory party tonight!” Charles gassed, after the celebration had died down, leaving the ten or so guys just staring at Oscar and Lando. Oscar hesitated; he couldn’t really say no now after all of this. 

“Oh, urm I-.” 

“Parties aren’t really Oscar’s scene, but I’m sure he’ll come to one in the future”, Lando cut in, squeezing Oscar’s hand that sat flat on his hip bone. Oscar nodded in agreement, and then everyone dispersed to their various supporters and friends. 

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that”, Oscar spoke, quietly enough for no one else to eavesdrop. But Lando just turned to him, with a real smile this time, and shrugged. 

“I know you’re not really a party guy, and besides, you’ve done enough for me today, it’s the least I could do” 

“Do you want a lift home?” Oscar offered, not really caring about Lando’s muddy boots dirtying his car.

“Yeah, that’d be really nice, thank you” And together the pair walked back into the car in a comfortable silence. 

The drive started quietly — the kind of quiet that wasn’t heavy, just… aware. The streetlights flickered across the windshield, slipping over Lando’s profile as he looked out the window, one knee bouncing gently. The hum of the engine filled the gaps neither of them tried to fill.

Oscar’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but his mind wasn’t. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked to Lando, to the smear of dirt still on his cheek, to the way his jaw had finally unclenched since they’d left the others behind.

“You don’t have to keep pretending when it’s just us, you know,” Oscar said after a while, voice soft enough to almost blend with the sound of the road.

Lando turned his head, brows knitting. “Pretending?”

Oscar gave a half-shrug. “The whole... ‘couple’ thing. You don’t need to—keep it up now. You can unleash any hatred on me if you’d like.”

There was a pause — long enough that Oscar wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Then Lando huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back in the seat. “Guess I got a bit carried away back there.”

“Yeah.” Oscar smiled faintly, eyes on the road. “You were convincing. I even believed you were excited to see me at the end of the pitch.”

“I was!” He defended, pulling his knee up to his chest and rolling his eyes at Oscar, “I was convincing?”  Lando asked, voice teasing but quieter than usual. There was something uncertain underneath it.

Oscar nodded once, still not looking at him. “Almost too convincing.”

The air between them shifted — not tense, just charged. Lando let the silence sit for a few beats, then spoke again, softer. “You didn’t look like you hated it.”

Oscar’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, the corners of his mouth threatening a smile. “Didn’t say I did.”

Another stretch of silence, this one different — warmer somehow. Lando’s knee stopped bouncing.

When Oscar pulled up outside Lando’s place, neither moved to get out right away. Lando’s hand rested briefly on the door handle, then fell away.

“Thanks for the lift,” he said finally.

“Anytime.”

Lando nodded, then turned to look at him properly — eyes searching his face for something he didn’t know how to name. “See you tomorrow?”

Oscar gave a small nod. “Yeah. See you tomorrow, enjoy the party.”

Lando lingered one more second, then stepped out, closing the door softly behind him. Oscar watched him go, then let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

For the first time in weeks, the quiet didn’t feel like distance. It felt like something beginning. Something he was afraid to explore. It wasn’t the same murderous teasing Lando usually held for him, but at the same time, the warm feeling in his stomach couldn’t be ignored for once. But he pushed it down and swallowed hard, ignoring the way his heart was pounding in his chest and pulled back onto the road.