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The paddock at night was more restrained, a soft hum of floodlights and a buzz of distant conversation in hospitality tents. Everyone else had flowed away, to meetings or dinners or bed. But Lando Norris sat alone in the empty McLaren garage, fingers deep in the pockets of his hoodie, staring at the blinking telemetry screens that were yet to be switched off.
He remained unfazed as he heard the footsteps behind him.
Did not need to turn around to know who it was.
"I didn't think you'd still be here," Oscar said to him, voice low.
Lando shrugged quietly, still not turning around. "Didn't feel like leaving yet."
There was a silence between them, not awkward, but… weighty.
They hadn't actually been speaking in months, not really, not since everything.
Not since they let themselves fall apart.
"I watched your quali lap," Lando said softly, at last turning to face him. "Clean. Classic you."
Oscar smiled wryly. "Didn't feel like it. Lost a tenth in sector two."
Lando leaned forward, a sense of old, warm affection tugging at his chest. "You're still kicking yourself, aren't you?
Oscar leaned against the wall opposite him. "Learned from the best."
That caused Lando to burst out laughing, and for a second, it was 2025 again, easy, without a worry.
Before the victories began to get in the way. Before they began to keep score off-track, as well.
Oscar's gaze remained on him. "Ever think we made a mistake?
Lando watched him gravely. "You're talking about the break up?"
Oscar nodded slowly, a single slow, purposeful motion. "We were great. But we made it too complicated. And instead of repairing it, we simply.. broke it."
"I overreacted," Lando admitted, his voice quieter now. "A lot. I got trapped in my own mind. I figured maybe if I focused more on racing, it would be simpler. But it didn't make a difference."
Oscar's mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but his lips shut once more.
So Lando kept going.
"I hated to see us like that, you know? Arguing in hotel rooms. Waking up on different sides of the bed, emotionally, at least. It was like we'd lost how to be ourselves."
Oscar pushed a hand through his hair. "We lost our focus. We believed that winning was more vital than what we had."
They just stood there for a very long while, breathing the same air once more.
Lando stirred. "Did you ever stop loving me?"
Oscar jerked a look up, eyes scanning him.
"No," he said. "Not for a moment.".
Lando stepped closer. "Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I believed you didn't want me anymore," Oscar confessed, his voice trembling slightly. "You seemed to be distant. You were withdrawing from me. I assumed I was the issue."
"You weren't," Lando replied without pause. "God, Oscar, I was afraid. Afraid that I was stifling you, or crowding your mind. Afraid that you might be better without me.
Oscar shook his head. "I wasn't. I'm not."
The confession hung there like a live wire.
Then Lando moved directly into his own space, their foreheads lightly touching.
"I should be honest…" Lando whispered, "I'm still in love with you."
Oscar let out a shaky breath. “Say that again.”
“I am still in love with you.”
Oscar's hand closed around the hem of Lando's hoodie, his fingers curling into the soft fabric. "Then let's start anew. Let's get back to the start. No silence. No ego."
Lando nodded. "Just us."
Oscar bent down and kissed him, no urgency, no haste. It was just… home.
The kind of kiss you give someone when you have longed for them with every part of your soul.
As they broke apart, Lando rested his forehead against Oscar's once again and laughed softly.
"You're still annoying as hell on track, y'know."
Oscar smiled. "And you still brake too late into turn one."
Lando rolled his eyes. "Shut up and come home with me."
Oscar did.
--
Sprawled on the hotel couch, with takeout boxes scattered between them and a film quietly running in the background, Lando threw a sidelong look at Oscar.
"I don't want to fight anymore," he whispered.
Oscar reached his hand across the cushions, gently taking Lando's. "Then we won't."
Lando interlocked their fingers. "I get that we can't dictate everything. We'll remain competitive. We're drivers.."
"But we're more than that as well," Oscar finished for him. "We always were."
Lando leaned in further, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of Oscar's lips. "Promise me we'll battle for us next time, not against one another."
Oscar nodded. "I promise."
For the first time in months, Lando slept with a sense of peace in his heart, his hand holding Oscar's, their fingers interlocked as though they were never meant to be parted.
--
Oscar arrived first, Red Bull hat drawn low over his eye and coffee in his mug, sunglasses masking the weary appearance of a night passed talking more than sleeping. Not from worry, from relief. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, things felt light.
He was not expecting George Russell's soft whistle as he passed.
"Ah, someone looks very well-rested."
Oscar raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile. "Good coffee."
"Of course," said George, laughing. "Is that why you were spotted leaving the McLaren hotel this morning?"
Oscar blinked. "You stalking me now?"
George chuckled, throwing his hands up. "No judgment. Just some of us have eyes."
Oscar grumbled something into his coffee and continued on his way.
Lando, however, was met with a different kind of curiosity.
"So," Alex Albon replied, plunking down beside him on the pit wall during FP1. "You and Oscar getting on all right now?"
Lando glanced sideways. "We're talking."
Alex looked at him for a moment, then smiled softly. "That's good. You've both been unhappy."
Lando let out a breath, his arms folded across his chest. "We're doing all right. No labels, no drama. Just. starting over."
Alex nodded. "Just don't mess it up again. You two deserve happiness."
Lando never answered, but the smile that tugged at his lips was sufficient.
Once he had completed his media duties that day, Oscar crept into the calmer hospitality lounge, and there found Lando already seated, arms folded and tapping at his phone. Lando looked up as Oscar entered.
"They're all onto us."
Oscar took a seat in the chair opposite him. "Yeah, George attempted to interrogate me."
Lando snorted. "Alex as well. You think we're being too obvious?"
"We always were," Oscar said, his lips curving into a faint smile.
Lando's grin dissolved into a softer, more serious expression.
"I meant what I said," he whispered. "About going slow. We're not going to act like everything's okay. We've got work to do."
Oscar nodded, reaching across the table to brush the tips of his fingers against Lando's wrist. "I want to do this right again. No detours."
"We don't owe anyone an explanation," Lando told him. "But. perhaps we don't hide it, either."
Oscar shifted to one side. "Not hiding feels good."
Lando looked at him, pausing for a moment in silence before responding. "Why don't you come by tonight? Just to hang out. No pressure."
Oscar's eyes sparkled. "You make the tea, I'll get the biscuits."
Lando rolled his eyes, replying, "You're so Australian."
"And you're predictable."
Lando kicked him under the table. Oscar laughed.
That night, swathed in Lando's hotel bed, they watched reruns of The Office and shared a bag of crisps between them. They were close, not together yet, not like before, but close enough that the air between them hummed with a warm, promising tension.
"We're in no hurry," Oscar whispered during the roll of credits.
"No," Lando said, eyes fixed on the screen. "But we're not walking away, either."
Oscar moved in closer, laying his head gently on Lando's shoulder.
"I'm still in love with you," he whispered softly, as if to remind her.
Lando smiled. "Me too."
And maybe, this time, they'd get it right.