Chapter Text
The first time that Lando Norris saw Oscar Piastri in real life, the latter nearly sliced the Brit in half with his skates.
Not on purpose, though
(Probably.)
It had been one of those days in New York City that were only the kind of picturesque in Hallmark films and scenic shots. Fitting, for it was one of the last few weeks of December, approaching Christmas but not quite there yet. Lando Norris was bundled up, jacket zipped up to his neck, beanie shoved over his curls, emblazoned with his team logo and writing;
PAPAYA PRINCES.
Lando sighed, praying noone would recognise him. Sure, being the handsome, young single center of one of the world's best hockey teams is a good thing, but as they say, you can get too much of a good thing. And for once, Lando, who constantly indulged in excess, just wanted a peaceful, relaxing day. It was going really well, Lando thought, as he poked his head into his favourite bakery.
He walked up to the counter, smiling at the girl who always took his order. Luckily, hockey wasn't her sport, so she wasn't one to gush over him; she treated him as a friend, while also giving him a blow-by-blow analysis of the latest Formula 1 race. Bless.
'Heya.' Angeline smiled, waving at her friend, her light British-French lilt cutting through his thoughts.
'Hi, Ange. Y'alright?' Lando smiled back, leaning over the counter.
'Oh, I'm good. You?' she looked up at him, and when he replied affirmative, she smiled once more. 'That's good. Always worried you'll get sliced up. Anyway, the usual?'
Lando nodded, sitting down on his usual spot, the little cozy reading nook with the pillows and cute photos of movies and bands. The Beatles stared down at him, smiling as he plopped down.
'So, what d'you have planned for today?' Angeline smiled, pouring the drink into the tumbler. The usual; a vanilla milkshake, with that protein powder only he drank and swore on it for his muscles. She was also plating up a little avocado chilli bagel, little smiley face in honey on the side.
'Well..' Lando pursed his lips in thought. 'Probably'll go to the barn, get a bit of practice in before that last match.' He ran a hand over his face, smiling as the girl gave him his food.
'Sounds fun. You be careful and don't like.. get your head sliced open.' Angeline chuckled.
Lando snickered in return, 'No promises, girl. Anyways, I'll catch you later.' Lando said, words muffled as he shoved the last bit of the bagel into his mouth.
Angeline smiled. 'See you, Lando.' she waved.
Lando waved back, exiting. He walked toward his favourite place on Earth; the Center Coliseum, the home of his team, the Papaya Princes, and the place he'd won, lost and practically grew up on.
Hockey wasn't just a sport for Lando; it was his life, in a quite literal sense.
He lived off it; thrived off the thrill, the feel of the blades slicing across the ice, sharp as his intuition and as smooth as the slide of his puck against the ice. Even better, he was a hero; along with his teammates, he was helping his team lead the league, the glaring orange present on every scoreboard, at the top, like an apex predator.
They were, in a way. No team really stood a chance against them; their speed, defence and IQ was absolutely unmatched, and Lando had a huge part in that.
He couldn't fight the small smile that spread across his face as he entered the arena.
Lando Norris had three ethnicities; Belgian, from his mother. British, from his father. And the sheer cold, from the ice many say he was born to play on.