Chapter Text
“Lando, this is Zak from McLaren, is this the world champions hotline?” comes from the radio in an almost joking but proud tone. What a line. The sheer craziness of it had almost made Lando’s nose wrinkle uncomfortably. Almost. He was too busy celebrating, too busy with his lovely new title to care about how ridiculously unfunny Zak was behaving at the moment, the boy was literally doing his best not to break down crying of happiness. He made that dream come true, that little boy's dream. That dream to become a world champion.
He stepped out of the car and raised his fist in the air, excitement and joy visible through the tinted visor he had on his helmet. Lights wrapped around his sides perfectly making him look like some kind of deity, and he surely felt like one. The audience cheered, confetti was thrown and people were screaming. Unlike previous years, there wasn't any booing or groans. There were only celebratory yells and happy laughs, they didn't hate him anymore.
This was it. This was the championship he had always been dreaming of, the one he worked so hard for. It was his, all his. As much as a small part of him wanted to say it was entirely his doing he couldn't discredit his teammate, who had come third. The amount of position swaps the pair were doing throughout the season in the favour of Lando was nothing but absurd, but he didn't want to think about that, about what could've happened if things were fairer for the both of them. He just wanted to celebrate with his team. His friends. With Oscar. He wished to thank him for the help. Maybe get a drink and spend a few hours together, give him a pat on the back and a warm, tight hug. Look at him in his gorgeous brown eyes and… wait, no, shut up Lando. Stop thinking about him like that.
Unfortunately he couldn't find him, Oscar wasn't anywhere in sight. Most likely dealing with his own pair of interviews, that's fine. He'll be in the after party, Lando shrugs. He'll still (hopefully) be able to celebrate with him, he'll give his colleague a smile when he sees him. That shouldn't take long, right? The team has to take a photo with both drivers anyways.
For now, it's best to celebrate with the rest of his garage and with the crowd, later he'll find Alex and George to get drunk with. Watch a few R rated videos, play games together or just talk about their lives and enjoy the end of this season together, maybe with Carlos too. To Lando, anybody was welcome to celebrate with him.
Before he knew it, the McLarens dragged him into a team-photo, putting him right beside the ‘great’ man Piastri himself, who Lando had previously wondered if he had disappeared. His expression was slightly disappointed, a sour look shading over him. But he glanced at Lando for just a moment and kindly smiled at him before turning back towards the camera. That single turn of the lips somehow made Lando feel better, almost warm. Oscar wasn't mad at him, he was just dissatisfied with the results. It was expected of course, he led the championship for so long yet still lost.
It almost made Lando feel guilty, knowing that he was the main reason Oscar was struggling so much this season… Not because of one-track overtakes but because of team orders. It's fine, he'll think about that later when he's not trying to celebrate.
The bright disco lights showered over everybody, especially Lando. He was jumping around on the dance floor with pure excitement etched on his face, holding a drink in his right hand which was definitely going to spill if he continued bouncing around like a madman.
He felt a soft smack on the back of his head and quickly turned around to see who it was.
“Campeón del mundo, ¿eh Lando?” Carlos smiled, wrapping an arm around Lando's shoulder while ruffling his hair with the other.
Lando laughed, playfully hitting Carlos' hand away from his head, “I don't understand what you said, mate!”
“Hah, congratulations, Lando.” Carlos gave him a proud smile, “I knew you had it in you, you Muppet.”
“I still can't believe I did it!” Lando laughed, his drink spilling slightly on Carlos' suit.
“You should believe it. You did amazing Lando, amazing!” He smiled at him, his tone of voice friendly but serious.
“Hope Williams is treating you well, Carlito.”
“They're doing their best. Who knows, maybe I'll be next on the list of ‘heroes’.”
“You wish.” He teased, but quickly took it back and chuckled, “I'm just joking, you'll surely be a champ one day!”
“Haah… yeah, definitely! Think like a champion and you'll surely be one!” Carlos snorted, spilling his own drink slightly.
Lando laughed seeing the minor mess on Carlos' suit, both drinks spilled on the same spot. “You're drunk out of your mind, mate.”
“¡No, no, no estoy borracho en absoluto!”
The pair held the conversation for only a few more minutes before Carlos went to greet Charles, who was also at the party. Of course the two would want to see each other, former teammates after all.
The last hour or so of the party is left, afterwards, Lando just has some media and team de-briefing to do. Nevertheless, I that won't take too long, besides, it's really just a chance to celebrate even more with the crowd. Tonight is the last time people will call him a ‘bad’ driver, as he is not that, but a champion. It really is the final time. It feels so strange to think that. Unreal almost, for all that he knows that it's true.
Despite wanting to stay and have more exciting races in this car, it’s a relief in many ways. This year has been great, but it's finally time to wrap it up. Max has been on his tail for the last half of the season and Oscar has been leading the title and had almost won it, but got beaten by both Lando and Max.
He'd finally reached the heights he'd dreamt of. The taste of winning a World Championship that had been so tantalisingly close in 2024 had finally come, and the taste was golden, yet slightly sour. He didn't want to come to terms with the fact that team orders and ‘papaya rules’ played a large factor in this victory, knowing he'd achieved so much more than he'd ever thought possible, achieving the dream that the little wide-eyed boy he once was had wanted. It was his doing, he deserved it.
So to think about the fact that he might've missed this shot if it wasn't for his teammate feels wrong. His last race this season and Oscar got a better place than him; poetic much. He almost chucked at the absurdity. Almost, but not quite. Still, he won and that was the only thing that mattered. Just like Max said, “You can't be half pregnant”, and the absurdity of that actually made Lando let out a chuckle
The team certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves. Letting loose a little, drinking, having fun and celebrating the season they all assumed would never come. They had plenty to celebrate, a tenth World Constructor's Championship as well as his own driver’s Championship, so it was expected of them to go crazy over this.
Lando checked the time on his phone and wondered if it was too late to continue the party. He'd said his thanks and made a bet with Jon that McLaren will win the constructors championship next season, “With me and Oscar here, we will totally get another victory, mate.” he said. Lando had also had a sweet chat with Zak about their plans for the new car and the testing, even talking about how great their livery was going to look.
As he was saying his goodbye’s and leaving the party, Lando took a small trip to the restroom to wash his hands. He walked up the stairs, just above the party room and headed on into the bathroom down the corridor to the right, confidently believing that he could stop off and then go on upstairs without drawing much attention to himself… worse plan than he'd previously assumed, as the party was for him anyways.
As the door swung shut behind him and the music he was dancing with moments ago fell silent. He turned on the sink and let it run for a few minutes, waiting for the water to warm up.
Thank fucking god the bathroom didn't use soap bars, he had always considered those unhygienic… What if someone used one before him? What if a fish used one before him? Ewww!
Despite the sound of the party dying down, the room wasn't entirely silent. It took Lando a moment to dry off his hands before seeing someone else in the corner of the bathroom, leaving one of the stalls letting out what sounded like a quiet but broken sob… probably just imagination, Lando thought.
He looked over at the far side of the room, attempting to find the source of the sound. The figure's head was low, almost upset-looking. Its back was pressed against the wall, almost hunched-over as its left hand was tightly gripping onto the clothes on its right arm.
Lando took a step forward, wondering that someone hadn't possibly just drank a little too much and threw up or something. If needed he could call them an Uber, no big deal. But he quickly stopped in his tracks once he was close enough to see that the figure in such a stance was none other than Oscar.
Jesus, he looked crushed. Almost like a smashed papaya.
At almost the same time, Oscar quickly tried to straighten his posture and wipe his tears, fumbling to compose his breathing and just completely holding it in when he realised that someone else was in there with him.
Lando had no idea what to do. Should he ask? Oscar was probably fine, just drunk. Dang it, he would just check to see if everything was okay. It was his teammate, after all. He didn't want him upset on such a good night.
“Oscar? You okay?” Lando asked, taking a small step closer to get a better look at his teammate in front of him. His hair wasn't exactly messy but unusual for him, his hands were slightly trembling and there were tears hidden in his eyes. Tears. Actual, sad tears.
“Oscar?” He pressed again, more concerned than curious now.
Oscar just stared at him for a moment, letting out a shuddered breath as he processed just what was going on. When he did, he nodded and turned his head away from Lando, moving his left hand from his arm to his hip.
“...I’m alright.”
“Why are you crying, Osc? If you need someone to talk to…”
“No, I'm fine.” He interrupted, pausing after that. Fuck. This was bad, really bad. “Thanks, though.”
“You didn't answer my question.” Lando mumbled, taking another step closer. He hoped to god that he didn't sound pushy or annoyed, in reality he was concerned.
Silence ate up the room, Oscar stayed completely still for a moment.
“Oscar?”
Lando wondered if Oscar was just ridiculously drunk and out of his mind, because if he wasn't he surely would've said something by now. Right?
The slight hope that nothing bad was going on kept Lando from saying goodbye and walking away. As selfish as he felt hoping for this, he hoped that Oscar was just ridiculously drunk. Because if he wasn't, Lando knows he doesn't know how to handle that. He's never seen Oscar like this. Cold, upset and shaken up.
“Oscar,” he repeated, softly calling out again, attempting to hide the worry etched in his eyes. “What's wrong, mate? Are you okay?”
“...”