Landoscar oneshots

Chapter 2: "Too Close for Comfort"

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-Pov. Oscar-

I’ve never liked Lando Norris.

He’s too loud, too carefree, always cracking jokes like life is one big game. It’s exhausting. He’s the type of person who sucks all the air out of a room, leaving you with nothing but his constant chatter.

And now, because life has a cruel sense of humor, I have to work with him, race against him, share the same stupid debriefs, media days, and dinners. It’s suffocating.

Today was no different. The press conference was a nightmare—Lando, as usual, playing up for the cameras, making jokes about some ridiculous meme. Meanwhile, I had to sit there and grit my teeth, forcing a smile while he basked in the attention.

I couldn’t wait for it to end.

As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, I shot out of my seat and headed for the door. Maybe I could get a moment of peace before practice.

But no. He was there, as always.

“Hey, Oscar!” Lando called after me, his voice annoyingly cheerful. “What’s the rush?”

I didn’t stop walking. “I’ve got better things to do than listen to you talk.”

I could practically hear his grin as he jogged to catch up. “Aw, c’mon, mate. We were just having fun in there.”

I stopped and turned to face him, the frustration I’d been holding in all day bubbling to the surface. “Not everything’s a joke, Lando. Some of us actually take this seriously.”

For a moment, Lando’s grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. Hurt, maybe? But it was gone just as quickly, his carefree mask snapping back into place.

“Right. Serious Oscar, I forgot,” he said, shrugging. “Lighten up, man.”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my cool. “I’m not here to lighten up. I’m here to race. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Lando’s smile didn’t reach his eyes this time, and there was a tense silence between us. It was always like this—me, pushing him away, and him, refusing to leave.

He leaned in slightly, his voice lower. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to actually talk to me, instead of acting like I’m the enemy.”

I scoffed. “I’m not here to make friends.”

“Clearly.”

Before I could respond, he walked off, his shoulders tense. I stood there for a second, the words caught in my throat. Part of me wanted to shout something back, to make him understand, but what was the point?

I hated how he got under my skin.

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Later that evening, I found myself pacing around the paddock, restless. My team had just finished the day’s debrief, and the garage was quiet, the rest of the crew having gone for dinner. I should’ve left too, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unfinished business hanging in the air.

Of course, I wasn’t alone for long.

“Still here?” came Lando’s voice from the doorway. I didn’t bother turning around.

“What do you want now?” I muttered, staring down at the table of notes in front of me.

“I wanted to talk. Properly this time,” he said, stepping closer. His tone was different—quieter, less playful. It caught me off guard.

I sighed, finally looking up at him. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with an intensity I wasn’t used to. It made me feel... uneasy.

“I don’t get you,” he continued, his eyes not leaving mine. “One minute, you’re fine with me, and the next, you’re acting like you can’t stand to be in the same room.”

I shook my head, pushing away the frustration rising in my chest. “Maybe I can’t.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You really hate me that much, huh?”

The way he said it, like he didn’t quite believe it, made me pause. Did I hate him? Sure, he annoyed me—constantly—but hate? That felt too strong. Too final.

“Maybe I don’t hate you,” I admitted grudgingly. “But you make everything harder.”

He snorted. “How?”

“You never take anything seriously,” I snapped, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Everything’s a joke to you. You’re always trying to get a rise out of me, like it’s some game.”

Lando blinked, looking taken aback. For a second, I thought he might argue, but instead, he surprised me.

“You think I don’t take this seriously?” he asked, his voice low. “You think this doesn’t matter to me?”

I frowned, unsure of what to say. I had always assumed Lando’s jokes and laid-back attitude meant he wasn’t as focused as the rest of us. But now, seeing the way he was looking at me, the intensity in his eyes, I wasn’t so sure.

“I’m not messing around, Oscar,” he continued, stepping closer until he was just a few feet away. “I take this as seriously as you do. Maybe even more.”

I didn’t know how to respond, the air between us growing heavier with every second. My heart was racing, and not because of anger. There was something else there now—something I hadn’t noticed before.

Something that scared me.

Lando’s gaze softened slightly, his voice dropping even lower. “I just don’t get why you’re pushing me away.”

I swallowed hard, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. I wasn’t used to this—this vulnerability, this... closeness. And I didn’t know how to deal with it.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly, the truth slipping out before I could stop it. “Maybe because you’re the one person I can’t figure out.”

Lando’s lips quirked into a small, almost sad smile. “Maybe you don’t have to.”

Before I could think or stop myself, I reached for him. It was impulsive, reckless—everything I usually wasn’t. But it felt right, in that moment. My hand found his, and I felt the tension between us snap.

Lando didn’t pull away. Instead, he stepped even closer, his breath warm on my skin.

“You don’t have to figure it out, Oscar,” he murmured. “Just... let it happen.”

And for once, I did.

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