Who Needs English When We're Fluent In Love?

by redbullreject

Summary:

"Uh, hallo? I am, uh, Oscar. I am new, what is it, student? And you?"
Oscar. He practices the name in his head. It rolled off his tongue quite nicely, as much as he hates to admit it. Oscar.
"Hello. I'm Lando, McLaren driver," Lando said, quite clipped, because he had work to do and couldn't waste time on this right now.
"Lan-doo?" Oscar asked, eyebrows rising and Jesus Christ, is Oscar actually stupid, or just taking the piss?
"Your English is terrible, mate."
The words are leaving Lando's mouth before he even realises they've escaped up his throat. A mechanic stops mid screw turn. An engineer drops a pair of safety goggles like it's a bomb.
Oscar looks like he punched him. Lando kind of wants to punch himself.
"Ja, I, um, I know. I - what's the word - ah, yes, try. I try."
Lando swallows the sorry in his throat. It takes a second to go, the guilt heavy in his mouth. It tastes like acid and pain and the apology he probably should say but won't.
His ego is bigger than his empathy, it seems.
Or
the one with notepads, exchange students and a love that surpasses every language barrier.

Notes:

welcome to this dumpster fire!
First fic so if its bad, i do apologise!
No warnings, so enjoy reading!

Chapter 1: Oscar

Nobody ever gave enough of a shit to teach him it. His parents were busy, his younger sisters no help whatsoever. He was alone.

So Oscar learnt English himself.

With library books he never returned, and school teachers who looked at him funny when he pronounced 'hello' and a notebook that was filled with more half scrawled words than properly formed sentences.

He learnt it himself and it showed.

Oh God, it showed.

He got a 57% on an English paper and cried about it for 2 hours. His teacher told him he "needed to try harder" and he cried for another 3.

He sat for hours, staring at words in a notebook that danced infront of his eyes, every 2nd word jumbling in his mind, a mix of English and German and frustration.

He spent hours listening to people talking in English through battered headphones like he could use the power of sound to make him get it.

He didn't get it.

And he wasn't sure he ever would.    

     

"Osc! Oscar! Guess fucking what?"

Oscar looked up from his phone, eyebrow already raised, prepared for the spout of absolute shite that was about to leave Mae's lips.

"What?" He asked, pushing the hair of his forehead, then narrowing his eyes. "And don't swear."

"Sorry, mom," Mae grinned, showing off white teeth that would never see the metal of braces - lucky her - and dimples that made her look 7, not 14. 

"Look! Look at this!" She waved a piece of paper in front of his face, corners crinkled from how she was swinging it around.

"You're hurting the poor thing."

Mae blinked. "It's a page, Osc."

"A page you're hurting," Oscar took the page out of her hands, careful in a way he never was, gentle like it was an actual baby and not a piece of fucking tree.

"The poor things traumatised."

Mae looked at him weird. "It's a pa- you know what? Doesn't matter, read the bloody thing!"

"I'm reading it , you moron!" He shot back, biting back an eyeroll when Mae stuck out her tongue, trailing his eyes over the page.

"So," Oscar began, slowly, "what.... am I looking at, exactly?" 

Mae groaned , flopping onto the bed beside him, head against his school jumper in a way that he hates and loves and hates that he loves.

"It's a exchange student program! For future mechanics! At McLaren!" Mae punctuated every breath with a poke against Oscars side. "Last I checked, you were a foreign student, a future mechanic, and a McLaren fan!"

Oscar sighed, long and low. Because, well, she was right. He loved McLaren, stayed up till midnight sometimes watching highlights and live races on his phone, only going to bed when Hattie came in and threw a pillow at his head, whisper-yelling "Turn that thing off before I put it out the window and you after it, Oscar."

But that wasn't the point.

"It's in the UK, Mae." She looked at him weird. Again. He was going for a world record at this stage.

"Did the word 'foreign' not compute to you? Or the words McLaren. Obviously it's in the UK! And whys it matter?"

"Mae," He said, in the tone he used when he wasn't trying to hurt someone's feelings, which meant he was about to say something either stupid or painful. "I can't go to the UK."

"Why not?" She asked, sitting up now. "You'd get in to the program. Your amazing, Osc."

"Thanks," He smiled, ears turning a little red. "But it's not that. Its- my English is bad, Mae."

Mae smirked a little. "So this'll help! What better way to learn more English than going to an English speaking country?"

"Mae," Oscar said again. "It's not doable. I'm not- Mom and dad wouldn't let me go."

"They would," Mae smiled. "They're the ones who gave me the flyer. C'mon , Oscar. You've always wanted this."

Oscar knew what this was; he'd dreamt of it since he could form coherent thoughts. He wanted to work in f1. Always had. But it was nothing more than a dream he let himself think about sometimes, a thought that drifted like cloud in sky and disappeared into the blue.It was nothing more than a dream.

"This," He pressed a hand to the page. "Isn't for people like me."

"But it could be!" Mae stood up, leaving the page on the bed. "You could do what you've wanted to do for years, Oscar. Years. It's a year long program. Its worth it."

"I can't!"

Mae sighed, long, drawn out. Then, without another word, turned and walked out. Slammed the door behind her like she had a personal vendetta against it.

Oscar stared at the spot she'd stood in for longer than necessary.

Then he picked up the page. Stared his dream in the face.

Crumbled it into a ball and chucked it across the room.

Because his dream died the day they told him to try harder.

Because he didn't have any more to give.

 

Logan leaned against his desk the next day.

Oscar tried not to bang his head on said desk. 

"No."

"I haven't said anything yet!" Logan whined.

"I can see the flyer in your hand, Logan." Oscar pointed out. "The answers no."

"But Osco, think about it," Logan leaned farther into the desk, the legs teetering on the edge of collapse. "It's your dream!"

"Why is everyone saying that today?" Oscar asked the sky, tilting his head up. "Like, actually, did Mae make you do this?"

"No!" Logan replied, far to quickly. "Okay, yeah, maybe. But just think about it. Please?"

Oscar closed his eyes, because if he looked at Logan, he might say yes. Because Logan was one of the only people who mattered to him, and he'd jump off a bridge for him if he asked, and he probably would think about the program if he looked at him right now.

"Oscar," Logan sighed, leaning down a bit to look Oscar in the eye. "For me?"

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek. Opened his eyes. And said the words he would forever regret.

"Okay."

Logan lit up like it was fucking Christmas. 

"Really?"

"I'll, think about it," Oscar muttered. Logan grinned.

"Good boy," Logan winked. Winked. Like he was funny.

Oscar kicked his shin under the table. Hard. Hard enough Logan winced, then leaned back dramatically in typical Logan-Sargeant-feigning-Shakespeare fashion.

"You've wounded me," He whimpered, clutching his heart. "I thought you loved me."

"Mr Sargeant, if you could please sort out your love life after class, as I would like to start the lesson," Mr Rosberg appeared out of actual thin air. 

Logan flinched so hard he knocked his shin off the desk and winced again.

"Yes, sir," Logan scrambled, sliding into a seat that wasn't even his own, hand rubbing his shin.

Oscar bit his lip so hard the skin cracked, shoulders shaking. Logan glared.

Take that, Oscar thought, for making me choose between my dreams and my life.

 

Oscar came home to a sticky note taped to his door in green glitter pen.

'If you actually hate me talking about it, I'll stop. Tell me to leave it and I will. Promise.  - M'

He stared at it for a moment. Let the silence sink over him.

I'll stop. He wasn't sure he wanted her to stop.

He took the sticky note off the door, holding it in his hands for a moment. Then he set it on the counter and walked away.

 

Logan, Oscar

Logan: 6793340382

Oscar: and that is for.....?

Logan: the number. To call. If you want the exchange student placement.

Oscar: I haven't agreed to it yet.

Logan: you said you'd think about it. That's basically your way of saying 'I'll do it but I won't admit it to you yet'.

Oscar: I want to do it, but I can't lose this.

Message not sent. Try again?

Oscar: Why does it feel like I have to choose between what I want and what I can't have?

Message not sent. Try again?

Logan: Oscar? You still there?

Oscar is typing...

Oscar: goodnight, Logan.

Logan: gn, Osc. Think about it.

 

Oscar calls the number two days later. 

He doesn't make a show of it, doesn't even mention it to Mae when she asks. Just dials the number in the back of the yard underneath the tree that's stayed tall 5 years past the lifespan should allow and waits for the sound of the pick up.

He gets the spot.

He isn't as happy as he feels he should be about it.

 

                                                              

Chapter 2: Oscar

Summary:

Be warned: Oscar has second thoughts at least 4 times in this chapter. If you feel like you want to bonk him over the head, rest assured, as Logan would like to do so too.

Notes:

No warnings , so enjoy!

"Logan, I don't think I can do this-"

"Oscar. If you say that one more time, I will strangle you with the hoodie you keep fucking fidgeting with."

"Nobody was talking to you, Mae! And get out if my room!" Oscar yelled, turning away from his phone - where Logan was, staring back at him with a grin and a chuckle - to glare at her. 

She stuck out her tongue and stepped backwards out of the room, grinning as she went, in usual annoying sibling fashion.

He'd miss her. More than he'd miss the rest of them. He wouldn't admit it out loud, though.

Because that would make it real.

"You were saying..?" Logan prompted over the phone. Oscar sighed, the nervousness buzzing under his skin.

"I- I still don't think this programs for me, Log."

"Osc," Logan said, softer now," You got accepted because you're good. You're great. Amazing, even. You'll be fine, darling. I swear."

Oscar bristled a little at darling. Not because of the way Logan said it; no, never that, because Logan didn't like him like that. But because his parents thought he did.

They tiptoed around the word gay like it was a sin itself, like saying it would summon Satan himself into their kitchen and he'd ransac their fridge or something. 

(Deep down, he knew they didn't say it because they knew it would make what Oscar felt real, and he pretended not to know.)

"Osc?"

He shook his head, stuffing the hoodie he'd been fiddling with for the past half hour into his bag before he wore a hole in it. "Sorry. Sorry. Head went a bit mad there."

"It's okay to be nervous, Osc," Logan began.

"Yeah, yeah, you've only mentioned 14 times."

"Because you've looked ready to combust 14 times, mate."

Oscar rolled his eyes, but in reality, he felt a little... lighter. The nervousness still bubbled under his skin, but he didn't think he'd blow anymore. Not yet, anyway.

"We're still on the same flight, yeah?" Oscar asked, because he needed to change the subject before he said something he'd regret.

Logans smile faltered, then stretched across his face, strained. "Yeah, we are."

"You're not telling me something," Oscar's eyes narrowed. "You're still coming to England, right? You're still on the program?"

Logans smile stretched again. "Yeah, Osc, I am."

"Good."

"Flights tomorrow morning."

Oscar stopped. Because fuck, tomorrow? He wasn't prepared. He had packed, sure, but emotionally? He wasn't ready.

"Hey," Logan said. "It's going to be okay, Osc."

Oscar nodded. "I- yeah. Okay."

"Do I get your room when you leave?"

"MAE, SERIOUSLY?"

 

Oscar fucking hated airports.

That was the thought that was circling his mind as he dragged his suitcase through one, at 2am, pretending to listen to a talking Logan who was about to lose his two front teeth if he didn't shut up.

Oscar took a breath at the check in desk, handing over his passport to a smiling woman who was way too happy for 2 o'clock in the fucking morning.

Oscar took another breath.

His phone buzzed on his pocket when he was walking to security. A message from Mae.

 

Mae, Oscar

Mae: stealing ur room btw                                   

this is ur free warning

all others will cost extra xx

 

Oscar took a deep breath before he thought of throwing his phone across the room.

He stepped through security, thankfully getting through with no hassle, and walked into duty free, Logan in tow, still fucking talking.

"Osc?"

Oscar squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes?"

"Leave some air for the rest of us."

"I will actually punch you-"

"No you won't," Logan grinned, free and easy. "You love me too much." The confidence was dripping off of him in waves.

Oscar didn't reply for a moment. Then, barely audible, "yeah. I do."

Logans grin softened into something smaller, something kinder. He tugged Oscar closer, an arm round his shoulders. "Knew it."

Oscar rolled his eyes, nudging Logans side with his elbow until he released him.

"Come on," Logan smiled. "We've a flight to catch."

 

"This was a bad idea," Oscar announced, once he'd buckled his seat belt and lent back against the uncomfortable plane seats. 

"Osc, it'll be fine," Logan said, for what felt like th 7th time in the past hour. "And even if we crash, it'll be a fun story to tell your grandkids."

"Can you not?" Oscar murmured, ilicting a sharp laugh out of Logans throat. "God, why am a friends with you?"

Logan just laughed again.

There was blissful silence for all of 3 minutes before Logan piped up again. 

"Do you even know who's going to the program?"

Oscar shook his head. "Other than you and me? Nope."

Logan straightened in his seat. "Right, so. Charles is going, Max too-"

"Of course they're going together. God, they make me sick with their arguing, it's like, fucking foreplay or something." Oscar gagged out.

"Why have you put that image in my head, you wanker?" Logan groaned. " Right, where was I?"

"Max and Charles."

"Okay, so. Then theirs George, and Esteban-"

"George? George Russell?"

"We only know one George, Oscar."

"What's the point of him going? He's English, for fuck sake?"

"Oh, he just wants to get away from school," Logan chuckled. "Oh, and he knows one of the drivers for the season."

"Of course he does." Oscar muttered, more to himself than anything.

"As I was saying, it's you, Charles, Max, George and Esteban," Logan finished with a grin.

"And you." Oscar pointed out, tapping Logans shoulder.

"And me."

The plane lurched forward, and Oscar clutched Logans arm, making a noise that was half mortified whimper, half terrified scream.

"Fuck me, Oscar, get off," Logan choked out through laughter, as Oscar pressed his head to his shoulder.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Honestly, Osco, you're scared of a little plane?"

"Shut the fuck up."

That only made Logan laugh harder.

"Hey," Logan said, as the plane made its way to the runway. "It'll be fine, you know."

Oscar nodded, a little unconvinced. "Yeah. I know."

"You don't look like it."

Oscar looked at him, at the crinkle of amusement in his eyes, and groaned.

"Fuck. This. Shit."

Notes:

Comments appreciated!

Tumblr: @redbullreject

Chapter 3: Oscar

Summary:

Between airport coffees and conversations, Oscar works out that he's actually screwed.

Notes:

This will be the last Oscar pov for a while! I know, shocking. We'll finally see Lando!!!!!
Also, this is an early birthday present to myself. Was going to post it tomorrow but then thought 'may aswell post it now, because I'll be celebrating tomorrow ' so here we are.
Enjoy!

The first thing that came to mind when Oscar stepped off the plane was: fuck, England is cold.

The second thing that came to mind was: I'm fucking screwed.

He hadn't thought about these things on the flight, mostly cause he'd fallen asleep around 30 minutes in, because Logan was talking in his ear and he was like an audio book in the way he would not shut up and Oscar needed peace somehow.

So now here they were, and he was having a crisis in a cramped English Airport bathroom. Fun times.

He looked down at his phone from where he was perched on a closed toilet seat, and typed with shaking hands:

Mae, Oscar

Oscar

Why did I let you talk me into this?

 

Mae sends back a string of laughing emojis, which really aren't very helpful. Oscar was just about to put his phone away when it buzzed.

 

Mae, Oscar

Oscar

Why did I let you talk me into this?

Mae

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

It'll be okay, you know

It's only England, Osc.

 

He didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't because it was England, it was because it wasn't home.

"Oscar?" Someone - probably Charles - called out. "You in here?"

Oscar coughed, his throat scratchy as he responds. "Uh, yeah. Coming. Sorry," He choked out the last word after a moment of semi awkward silence.

"You're fine," Maybe-Charles replied, from somewhere near the door. Oscar stood up, shoving his phone into his pocket and stepping out of the stall.

"Hey," Definitely-Charles smiled, "you good?" His voice had that French lilt to it that made Oscars stomach turn. Not in a bad way, in a weirdly French, romantic way. 

He could see why Max picked him now.

"Oscar?"

Oscar flinched a little, before nodding. "Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm good."

Charles yawned, half convinced. "I could sleep for a year, I swear." The awkward small talk was killing him, even though Charles seemed fine with it.

"How do you do it?" Oscar blurted out, the words spilling out on their own accord.

Charles blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Do...what?"

"English. You're so... good at it, and I'm shit and I don't know how I'm going to do this, and-" the words are spilling out too fast, too honest, but Oscar can't make them stop.

A pair of hands landed on his shoulders, grounding him slightly. Then, that same fucking French accent.

"English is more common in Monaco than you think. And you're doing fine, Oscar. You're doing fine."

It's a bit awkward, as they've never really spoken before this, but Oscar needs it and it helps.

It's like letting someone see you and not being scared for them to see the bad parts, too.

"We should go," Charles said, finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a minute at most. "Logan was panicking about you before I'd even got in here."

Oscar snorted. "Of course he was."

Charles sighed, stepping back. "C'mon, then."

Then, after a beat: "You'll be fine, you know. The people will know your German. They'll be happy if you try ."

Oscar nodded. Because that's all he could do.

 

"Where the fuck were you?" Was the charming 'hello' he got when he stepped out of the bathroom.

"Opening the chamber of secrets," Oscar replied, dryly. "What do you think?"

"You were in there for 7 minutes!"

"Did you time how long I was in the fucking bathroom for , Logan?"

"Can you both not?" George smiled, that same smile that he used when he was being a smug bastard.

"Doesn't concern you," Logan murmured.

George snorted. "Logan, none of us even know why you're here. You're not even on the program."

Oscars blood went cold. "What."

Logan stiffened. "Oscar, I-"

"What the fuck, Logan?" Oscar spluttered out. "Why- what? Is he taking the piss?"

"I was on the program!" Logan blurted out in a rush. "I was, and then you applied and you had better grades , so-"

Logan trails off to take a breath.

"So you got my spot, and I got kicked off."

Oscar froze. The group trailed off, everyone going silent.

"You- why didn't you tell me?"

"Because this is your dream, Osc," Logan breathed. "It's your dream and if you'd known, you would have pulled out. You would have and you know it."

Oscar blinked. "You lied to me."

"I know."

"You promised you were coming, and then what? We're you just going to leave?"

"I was going to wait till you'd settled," Logan insisted. "And then I was going to tell you, when..."

"When you knew I couldn't back out," Oscar spat out. "You fucking lied."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"That doesn't change anything, Logan!" Oscar said, voice wavering slightly. "God, I fucking- fuck you. Fuck you."

Behind them, someone - probably Esteban - murmured, "great job, George Russell. Great fucking job." Behind them, Max was glaring daggers at the back of George's head.

Behind them, the world kept spinning.

So why did it feel like Oscar was spinning off orbit?

 

Notes:

So, um.... sorry? Apologies? Forgive me?

Comments appreciated!

Tumblr: @redbullreject

Chapter 4: Lando

Summary:

Lando likes a lot of things.
The new mechanic is, sadly, not one of them (yet)

Notes:

LANDO , WE CAN BE WORLD CHAMPION I SAID - what , who said that....? (not a ln4 fan, don't fight me)
Finally a Lando chapter! (Because idk how to follow on from the hell that was last chapter :3)
Also! I feel stupid not to have mentioned this, but Oscar is 22 in this, Logan is also 22, and Lando is 24. Oscar and Logan are in Uni.
Enjoy!

Lando loves the thrill of racing.

Does he like being tossed around a rolling piece of metal? Obviously not. 

Does he like the adrenaline rush? Hell yeah.

The adrenaline was the best part of it. If you aren't panicking after an overtake, you didn't go for it fully. That's what Zak said, anyway. Lando didn't really like listening to him, but oh well.

It wasn't like he loved the racing obsessively. He didn't. He enjoyed it, sure, but that was as far as it went.

Love was only one side of the coin, anyway.

He just didn't like flipping that coin over.

 

 

"Lando! How's it going?" Zak smiled, leaning back against the reception desk when Lando walked in. Lando smiled, that little polite smile he used to use when he was tired but still wanted to be friendly.

Now, he seemed to use it more often, for simple things, when a full smile felt too much but no smile felt wrong.

"Alright, yeah. You?" He asked, the pleasentries falling off his tounge as he walked down the hall. He hears Zak call "Good, good." And continued walking.

"Oh, Lando, wait a second!" 

Lando paused, turning his head a fraction to watch Zak half jog towards him. 

"Didn't know you could run, Zak," He quipped, voice low, but sly.

Zak rolled his eyes, but his fond smile said everything. "Shut up, Lando."

Lando laughed, the sound light in the quiet of the room. "What'd you need?"

Zak clapped. "Right. The students in the exchange program are coming today, and I thought it would be good for you to meet them, seeing as he'll be working with you."

"Working with me?" Lando blinked. This was the first time someone had willingly wanted to work with him.

"Well, he's a mechanics student, so he'll be working with all of us, but he'll be focusing on your car, specifically."

"That's.. good." Lando answered blandly. "Wait, he?"

"Yes, Lando, he. That amazing species of man. His names Oscar." Zak said. 

Lando blinked again. "Oscar? Doesn't sound very German."

Zak gave him a dry look. "Does it matter?"

"I'm just saying!" Lando put his hands up. "I was expecting something more.. German-y, like... well, I don't know, but you get the gist."

"Uh huh," Zak hummed. "Anyway, 2 o'clock, office room. Be civil, please."

Lando grinned, sly. "When am I not?"

 

 

Landos been standing in this office for 15 minutes, and there's no German in sight.

Zak stepped out 5 minutes ago, leaving Lando to his own devices, which was looking through on boards for the next race.

He's really getting into it, even though it's boring and he'd really rather be doing anything else, but it is how it is. In his head, he's busy.

The door slams open and Lando flinched, turning towards it.

Oh. Oh.

It's not like Landos never seen good looking people. He's just never seen him.

And he loves hates it.

"Uh, hallo? I am, uh, Oscar. I am new, what is it, student? And you?"

Oscar. He practices the name in his head. It rolled off his tongue quite nicely, as much as he hates to admit it. Oscar.

"Hello. I'm Lando, McLaren driver," Lando said, quite clipped, because he had work to do and couldn't waste time on this right now.

"Lan-doo?" Oscar asked, eyebrows rising and Jesus Christ, is Oscar actually stupid, or just taking the piss?

"Your English is terrible, mate."

The words are leaving Lando's mouth before he even realises they've escaped up his throat. A mechanic stops mid screw turn. An engineer drops a pair of safety goggles like it's a bomb.

Oscar looks like he punched him. Lando kind of wants to punch himself.

"Ja, I, um, I know. I - what's the word - ah, yes, try. I try."

Lando swallows the sorry in his throat. It takes a second to go, the guilt heavy in his mouth. It tastes like acid and pain and the apology he probably should say but won't.

His ego is bigger than his empathy, it seems.

Zak steps back in, and smiles that bright, big smile. "Oscar, it's good to see you!"

 Oscar smiled politely, the pull of his mouth awkward and forced. "Hello."

"I see you've met Lando," Zak, read the room. "You'll be working with him for the year, so it's good to meet him now."

Oscars eyes widen, looking suddenly horrified, and Lando doesn't blame him. If the roles were reversed, if Lando was a boy in a foreign country he obviously didn't speak the language off and scared out of his mind, he'd be horrified if he was working with a self centered bastard.

But the roles aren't reversed, so Lando doesn't think about it.

"-got that, Lando?" Zak didn't wait for his response, turning on his heel.

Lando blinked, stuttering out a "Wait,what?", but Zak was already gone, and now it was just them.

Lando looked at him - no, sorry, Oscar - and blinked. "Oi. What was he saying?"

Oscar blinked. He moved to open his mouth, then paused. "I, uh, not in English. It might be- same?"

Lando blinked. "Eh?"

Oscar swallowed. "Ah, tour. Is it- same meaning?"

"Oh!" Lando sighed. "Tour, yeah. Give you a tour. I can do that."

Oscar nodded. "I- I'm sorry, my English- is, not great." He offered an apologetic smile , though Lando could see how forced it was, how it was built on muscle memory. "I do try."

Lando nodded. Because he couldn't say sorry now. When the moment had passed and it was awkward.

Oscars phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced at it.

"Important?" Lando asked, because he wanted to get the tour done, but he wasn't a complete prick, and if it was important he'd let him deal with it.

Lando saw a message flash on the screen from 'Logs ❤️' that, from what he could see, read 'I am sorry, Osc. Talk to me?'

Oscar looked at it. "No. Not important."

Lando nodded. "Right, tour."

His mouth moved on autopilot, because all he could think was

I'm an asshole. I'm such a fucking asshole

Notes:

Comments appreciated!

Tumblr: @redbullreject

Chapter 5: Lando

Summary:

The tour would have went better if Oscar wasn't so damn scared of him (it's deserved)

Notes:

So..hi! I'm really glad u liked the last chapter!
Maybe I should have added Lando sooner haha..
Hope you all enjoy this one as much!

The tour would have been going better if Oscar wasn't so damn scared of him.

Lando knows its deserved, knows he doesn't deserve complete joy, but a smile might be nice.

But Lando knows he won't get one. So he isn't trying.

 "Right," Lando says, breaking the silence because someone had to and it obviously wasn't going to be Oscar. " Here we have the garage, " he saved in the vague vicinity of it. "My cars on the left, Riccardo's on the right. We have 6 engineers each car, the same for mechanics."

He paused for breath, but Oscar wasn't really listening; he was staring at the car with the type of focus you leave for really hard maths problems.

 "Can I.. look?"

Lando blinked. "Sorry?"

 "At the car, can I look?" Oscar asked again, something akin to excitement on his face.

 "Uh, sure? Knock yourself out, man."

Oscar practically ran across the garage, nearly tripping over a bench, a sight Lando openly snorted at.

Suppose if he's an mechanic, Lando thought, as he watched Oscar crouch beside the front wing, he'll like cars.

Wow, Lando, smart thinking. The man who works on cars likes cars. Who'd have thought?

"Is cool!" Oscar called from across the garage, one hand on the halo, the other in his hair, a smile splitting his features. "Very, very cool!"

Lando leaned against a bench, arms folded, just watching. "Yeah, it is."

"Sorry I.... run off," Oscar said, sheepish, as he ambled back, his gaze still locked on the car.

Look at me instead.

"It's fine, mate," Lando shrugged. "Everyone can admire a fancy car like its royalty."

Oscar blinked. "Like, what, sorry?"

"Royalty? It's like, the king and queen and shit."

"Ah," Oscar nodded, like he understands, but Lando can see he doesn't. "Königtum, is how we say it."

"Nice, mate," Lando says, like he knows what the hell just came out of his mouth. "Can we- continue, please?"

"Yes, sorry." 

Lando stumbles out of the garage, lest he look back and see Oscar giving heart eyes to the car again. But he can hear him behind him so he assumes he's following.

"How long have you been learning English?" Lando asked, hoping that maybe, maybe, they could start a conversation. 

Oscar jogged a little so he was beside him. "2 years."

Lando nodded. "It's good , mate."

"You said before, it was, what's the word, bad?" Oscar scrunched up his nose. "A word that means bad. I do not know what it is."

Lando glanced at the floor. "I didnt- I didn't mean it."

Oscar hummed. "Sure."

Shitshitshit, Lando is such an asshole.

"What is on there?"

Lando startles out of his brain. "What's what?"

Oscar nodded in the vague vicinity of a door. "That."

"Oh," Lando sighed. "That's my training room. Don't usually have one, but we're back at the factory for testing, so may as well use it."

Oscar nodded. "Cool."

God, did he love that word or was it the only response he knew??

Landos phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it, reading the screen.

"Mate, Zak wants to speak with you. He's where we started the tour, office room."

"Okay." Oscar replied, spinning on his heel, before stopping. "Oh, Lando?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For tour."

Landos chest tightened. "No problem, mate."

He looked up, but Oscar wasn't there.

Zak hadn't texted. He didn't need to see Oscar.

Lando just couldn't fucking do it. Couldn't look him in the eye because he was an asshole who yelled at people who didn't even speak the language.

Oscar didn't need to see him picking himself apart.

Oscar had already seen him as everyone else did. The spoiled, distant and outright cold McLaren Driver who had mechanics literally running in the opposite direction when he passed.

That wasn't him. It had never been him.

But he couldn't prove it. 

They'd chosen what to see.

And Lando, the absolute idiot that he was, had proven them right.

Again.

 

Notes:

I'm sorry it's so short, I start back to school tomorrow (kill me) and wanted to get something out before I did!

Comments appreciated!

Tumblr: @redbullreject

Chapter 6: Oscar

Summary:

Logans called him 14 times in the past 12 minutes.
Oscar has answered none.

Notes:

Rare Sunday post, who cheered.
Enjoy!!

Oscar is going to throw his phone at Lando Norris' face.

Wait, no, maybe he shouldn't do that. He kind of can't go home now. He needs to follow through. And throwing a phone at a cocky brat isn't going to help him follow through. 

Sad. He was looking forward to that.

His phone rings again, and he seriously thinks about chucking it under the bus wheels and praying for the crack of metal.

He looks down at the screen anyway, as if he'll see a different contact other than the one that's been calling him since he left for the factory.

Logan has called him 14 times in the past 12 minutes.

Oscar has answered none.

A message lights up his screen, from Max, of all people. He didn't even know Max knew his name. 

In reality, Charles probably told him.

 

Max, Oscar

Max

Oscar, Logans genuinely about to come find you.

Just answer the phone, mate.

 

Oscar stared at the message for a minute. Just answer the phone. Oscar couldn't just answer the phone. 

 

Max, Oscar

Oscar

Tell him I'm fine

And to stop calling me.

I'll be back at the hotel in five.

Max

You're sharing a room with him.

You have to talk to him, Oscar.

 

Oscar didn't grace him with a reply. He just sank into the bus seat and groaned into his hands.

 

Oscar doesn't go to the hotel room straight away.

He should, in theory, because he kind of chucked his stuff in their before running to the bus stop to get to the McLaren HQ, but he's pretty sure Logans there, so be decided against it, instead going into a little lounge section behind the breakfast room, that is probably a bar, but oh well.

He lowered himself onto a seat that was about 4 inches too low on the ground and tilted his head back, until it rested on the cushion and he could suck in a breath.

There was a noise in the corner, something that sounded like an "Oh shit," and a "for fucks sake," that Oscar chose to ignore, instead closing his eyes and exhaling.

There was a bang. As one does when there is a bang, Oscar startled upright and opened his eyes.

Oh. Oh. 

"Hi," George squeaked, from where he and Alex were tangled on the floor in the corner, averting his gaze while Alex gave a little wave from where he was pinned under George's weight.

Oscar opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought for a second. Then, in shaky English:

"What's... happening?"

George made a vaguely embarresed noise as Alex sat up, George still on top of him and practice in his lap by now.

"We fell," Alex said cheerfully, as George made a noise that vaguely translated to "No shit."

Oscar nodded slowly. "Uh huh."

George scrambled of of Alex, pushing himself back until he was against the wall and Alex could stand up and dust of his knees.

"See you later, Georgie, yeah?" Alex asked, already halfway towards the door, and George was barely able to get out a "Yeah," before Alex was gone.

Oscar stared.

"George," Oscar said, voice a little tight, because he was still a bit annoyed over what George did earlier. "Are you and Alex... you know?"

George scrambled up from the floor, shaking his head. "No! No, no, it's.. uh, it's..."

Oscar blinked. Then, slowly, he leaned over and patted the chair beside him.

When did he become a therapist?

George sank into the seat, a blush coating his cheekbones, making him look a little less of a dick. "Its.... casual."

Oscar blinked again. "Casual?"

"Casual. Like, if he wants to kiss, we kiss. It isnt.. labeled. He doesnt want me to be his boyfriend or anything. It's just, like, a thing. It doesn't mean anything."

"It sounds like it means something to you."

Wait wait wait. How did he manage to say that without pausing to think. Oscar can barely speak 4 English words in a row sometimes.

George shook his head. "You dont- I don't, no, no, you're wrong."

"My English, it isn't good, but I am not stupid."

George glared. "You're wrong."

Oscar held up his hands. "Okay."

He stood up, the chair making a sad little squeak as he took the weight of it. 

"George."

"What?" George spat, then, a little softer. "Sorry. What?"

"I don't think it's casual."

Oscar left before George could reply.

 

Logans in the room when Oscar gets there. He expected that. What he didn't expect was for Logan to tackle him at the the door.

"I'm sorry," Logan gasped out, and he sounded like he'd been crying. "I'm so sorry, I didn't want to lie, and I wasn't lying at the start, I was on the program, it's just-"

Oscar stopped listening.

He wasn't even mad anymore. Wait, no, that's a lie. He was still mad. But it was more of the mad that simmered under your skin for a few days but left at that, and not the mad that made you shout.

"It's okay," Oscar said, even though it wasn't okay and he was drowning inside. "It's okay, Logan."

"Is it?"

Oscar swallowed, then half forced a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

It wasn't.

 

Oscar sat beside Logan at dinner and laughed and smiled and pretended that he didn't see George saving a seat for Alex or Max saying something to Charles that made him choke on his water or Esteban glancing nervously between him and Logan for 20 minutes and best of all, he pretended that everything was fucking fine.

Notes:

George and Alexs relationship is literally the embodiment of 'Casual' by Chappell Roan and I am not sorry.
Also! I was wondering, as the reader, what your opinion would be if i added smaller chapters from the POV of other characters, like George and Esteban etc, or if you think I should wait till this story's finished and add fics set in this universe about them?

Comments appreciated!

Tumblr: @redbullreject

Chapter 7: Oscar

Summary:

The one with Uno, hospitals and Logan Sargeant behind our resident American worrier.

Notes:

So.. hi! Sorry theres been no post the last week, I was either in school or in the hospital and had basically wrote this between car rides, so if its shit, theres your reason babes.
Enjoy!

Oscars not being dramatic when he says that Esteban looks like he’s about to lose his shit.

Which, in any other circumstance, he wouldn’t be worried about. Everyone loses their shit. He’s lost him shit. Max has lost his shit- wait, no, Max isn’t a good example, because when is he not losing his shit? Logans lost his shit, which is more him pacing the same four steps around the same dull carpet 290 times and less of him shouting, which doesn’t make him a good example either. God, is Oscar the only good option? Jesus.

But Esteban is the only cool headed person on this whole trip, and he’s never even seen Esteban annoyed. He’s sunshine embodied in a 6 foot 1 Frenchman with patience for days.

As for now though?

Oscar thought Esteban might go through the roof.

He leaned a little closer to Logan, who was perched on the arm of the couch watching Charles and Alex play uno on the floor like 5 years olds and whispered, in quiet German, because Logan knew German and he was tired and he could feel George staring into his back and he couldn’t do English right now, “Does Esteban look like he’s about to implode to you or is that just me?”

Logan startled, blinking before pointing to himself as if asking if Oscar was talking to him, like there was another person within whispering distance and Oscar nodded because duh, who else would he be talking to?

It’s then he remembers Logan and him are still kind of fighting, but he pushes that to the back of his mind, where he keeps all the lesser important things, like answering Maes message or watching that tiktok Hattie sent him at 4am last night.

Logan nodded. “He does look a little…tense.”

Oscar snorted. “Tense? Logan, he looks like he’s going to kill someone, and knowing my luck, he’ll start with me.” He waved at himself in some vague attempt of dramatic flair.

Logan snorted, a harsh sound that made Charles look up from his uno game. “Shut up, Oscar, no he won’t. It’s Esteban.”

“Just because he’s Esteban doesn’t mean-”

“Uno!” Alex yelled, far too loudly. Max flinched off his stool at the sound and Charles burst into laughter, rolling onto his back like an oversized burrito. Oscar was halfway through a laugh when there was another shout.

“Can you be fucking quiet for once in your life?”

The room went a deafening stage of silent.

Oscar looked at Logan, who looked back at him with wide eyes, then to Max, who was staring, wide eyed, from his place as a heap on the floor. Finally, he looked up, to where Esteban was sitting, fists tight at his sides and a gaze that could burn wood.

Alex made a small sound. “Uh, sorry?”

Esteban rolled his eyes. “Is always sorry with you people. Why do you never keep to yourself?”

George scoffed. “Esteban, it’s uno. Relax.”

“You will not be very relaxed when I knock out your teeth.”

“Okay!” Logan clapped his hands, a nervous tick Oscar had learnt about years ago. “Why don’t we all just chill out. Please?”

Esteban sighed, a harsh, cold sound, before standing up. “I can not be around you…. people, anymore.” He walked out of the room without another word, in a very French stomp.

The room was still silent. Then:

“Pick up 2, Charles.”

“ALEX, SERIOUSLY, READ THE ROOM!”

 

 

Logan Sargeant has the amazing ability of sleeping through everything and falling asleep anywhere.

Let it be plane rides or movies, there isn’t a thing Logan hasn’t fallen asleep in at least once. Sometimes, Oscar worries he loses his pulse during the night from how dead to the world he is.

But Oscar can see Logan tossing and turning in his bed, somethings up.

Oscar wanted to say something. Anything. Something that could fix this. The silence. The awkward moments. The gaps in conversation where they didn’t know if they were okay, if they were still them.

Oscar wanted to say, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I forgive you’ in the same breath, wanted to say he was scared he was losing everything because he took a chance with his life and didn’t know how to be happy about it. He wanted to say that if Logan went back to Germany, no, when Logan went back to Germany, Oscar would lose himself.

He wanted to say every part of that.

Instead he said: “The person I’m working with is a dick.”

Logan startled, sitting up a little. “Who?”

“Lando Norris.”

Logan snorted. “Ah, yes. He actually is a dick. He’s Georges friend, actually. Figures.”

Oscar hummed.

There it was again. That gap they couldn’t bridge. That barrier they couldn’t cross.

“I don’t think I can do this if you leave.”

Logan blinked. “Oscar, what?”

Oscar tried to stop the words escaping up his throat, but it was too late. They were flowing out without his knowledge. “When you leave, it’ll just be me. Here. Alone. Again. I can’t – I can’t do that. They’ll forget I’m here. I’m invisible, Logan. Invisible. If I didn’t speak they’d forget I existed. If I wasn’t smart, they wouldn’t care. I can’t spend a year here and be unseen. I could do it when I was 16, but I’m not that kid anymore. I don’t have it in me. I just – fuck, I can’t-”

Logan’s hand was on his shoulder – when has he moved? Probably between Invisible and Existed – and then he was beside him, a heavy weight on his bed.

“Oscar,” Logan’s voice shook. “Oscar, fuck, look at me. Hey, c’mon.”

Oscar’s eyes were wet. Why were they wet?”

“Listen to me. None of that’s true-”

Why wasn’t he listening? Logan was talking, he should be listening. It was polite. Why wasn’t he-

“Oscar, Jesus, dude. Please look at me.”

Logan didn’t care.

“Osc, of course I care. Why wouldn’t I-”

Why was Oscar’s mouth moving on its own accord?

“Oscar!”

Oscar couldn’t feel his hands.

“Hey, c’mon, just look at me, please, Oscar, please-”

He was cold. Why was it so cold? It was 19 degrees.

“Please, Osc-”

His tongue was heavy in his mouth. He couldn’t speak. Why couldn’t he-

It went black.

 

“.. Oscar, its 1am, why are you calling me?-”

“Max.”

“Logan? What-”

“Help- please, I can’t get him to wake up.”

“Logan, slow down-”

“Help.”

 

 

Oscar woke up in a sterile room with Logan pacing a moat around his bed.

He blinked against the harsh lights above him.

“What the fucking hell?”

Logan froze, then turned, tackling Oscar on the bed. “I fucking hate you.”

“Logan, you’re crushing me.”

“You fainted!” Logan looked like he was about to faint. “You fainted and I couldn’t wake you up, and God, you asshole.”

Oscar felt a startled laugh creep up his throat. He couldn’t help it.

Logan looked at him, and he kind of looked like he was about to cry, but he started laughing too, and now they were two idiots in a hospital laughing over something they shouldn’t be laughing about.

“Stop laughing, you asshole-”

“- stop saying asshole-”

“But you are an asshole!”

God, Oscar couldn’t feel his sides.

“Osc?” Jesus, Logan sobered up quickly. Oscars chest was still heaving and his mouth was still pulled into a grin.

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me this won’t happen again.”

“It won’t.” Oscar answered, far too quickly. Logans eyes narrowed.

“Oscar.”

“It won’t. I swear, I don’t know why this happened now. It won’t happen again. I promise. Ever.”

Oscar couldn’t promise shit.

“Good, because Max was ready to kill me when I called.”

Oscar spluttered. “You called Max?”

“Who else was I supposed to call? Jesus?”

“Get out, you weirdo.”

Logan stepped back. “I’m going to get a water. Don’t flat line whilst I’m out.”

“I’ll try my best for you.”

Logan stepped out, and Oscar sank a little in bed, sighing and shutting his eyes. A moment of peace. Finally.

“What happened to you?”

Oscar’s eyes snapped open.

Because who else but Lando fucking Norris was standing in his hospital room?

Notes:

So... thoughts?
(We get more Lando next chapter, dw)

Comments appreciated!

Tumblr: @redbullreject

Notes:

Comments appreciated!