Team orders- autistic Oscar Piastri, ADHD Lando Norris

2: party preparations

Oscar's POV:

Lando seems okay with me and the team has been pretty happy on the surface. I'm dreading the meeting tomorrow morning when we talk about it all though. Well, it will be afternoon. They've got us a later flight back so we can celebrate tonight. I really don't feel like celebrating. But if I don't, the press will catch on and I'll be in even bigger shit.

I don't mind partying and clubs and all that but I don't love it. It's a lot of effort to keep myself looking and doing stuff like a normal human being in situations like that. I have a habit of spacing out and feeling separated from my own body which feels like hell and scares me to death. Plus they are so loud for no good reason and it hurts my ears like hell. I have ear defenders I could use but I don't want anyone to know they even exist. Don't get me started on those bright and flashing lights.

I'll go for an hour, look happy, say I can't drink because of the races (I could if I really wanted to, maybe have a little, but I won't) and then claim tiredness to get back to my hotel room before I get that stupid floating feeling. Yea, it'll be fine. Tomorrow afternoon's meeting will be totally fine too. We'll work it all out and I'm sure Lando will be up for a chat.

Lando's POV:

A team win and a 1-2 is a definite opportunity for me to drink mid season which is a novelty within itself. Getting drunk will make me happy, looking happy is good for the media and if the media are happy, then everyone will get the fuck off my back.

I almost leave my hotel room without my rings but go to fidget with one of them as I walk out my door and immediately realise that all of them are missing. It's fine though, I'll just walk back in...the door closes behind me. But that's okay too because I'll just get my key card out and... it's in the wallet on my phone... and my phone is in the bathroom from where I was sorting out my hair in the mirror.

To say this was not the first time it had happened would be an understatement. To say that I was over being embarrassed about my stupid brain not remembering stupid things, would be a complete and utter lie. I ran my hands down my face, tapping my fingers on my chin, feeling the way the hair there felt weirder the longer it got. I liked the way it made me look but it still wasn't sure if I liked the way it felt.

But I'm an adult, so I calmly (totally not making my finger bleed because I picked the skin around the nail too much) went down to the front desk, saying my room number in my head the whole time I didn't forget that too and asked for a spare room key. The guy at the desk, nodded, smiled a bit, and then quickly stopped smiling again afterwards. "It's okay, I know, I do it a lot." I said, trying to make the situation more comfortable. The guy was laughing at a me, the grown adult who couldn't keep a room key on him.

I couldn't wait to get drunk.

A/n Hey! Second chapter of this story and I hope all those who are reading are enjoying it (even those discovering f1 for the first time). Any questions or feedback very welcome!