Chapter Text
It’s a promotion.
At least, that’s what they tell him. That Will got promoted. And Oscar is only the natural fit to take his place.
It sounds nice. Sitting in his boss's office, looking at a promotion letter with a significant raise. Getting a hard clap on his back from Zak. A gentle, encouraging smile from Andrea next to him.
But.
It feels like more of being passed off. Like more of a shifting than a promotion. Oscar doesn’t want to use the word punishment. But it’s not completely the wrong word. Feels like someone on his side of the garage wants him moved.
He doesn’t have to look very hard to know who.
In the beginning, he and Daniel got along great. Their shared Australian kinship made them feel somewhat connected in a sea of Brits. Oscar was far too young and awkward, still is too young and awkward, but Daniel always made the move to break the ice. Joking with Oscar about how no one here used the word thongs in the right way, or bringing Timtams to their debriefs. And Oscar has felt a sort of kinship with him. Even bringing his nan’s lambingtons to hospitality while they were in Australia, stashing one away especially for Daniel.
But as the season progressed, it seemed like their shared home country was where their commonality ended. Where Daniel was loud and showy, Oscar was quiet and calm. Where Daniel took risks, Oscar presented sound data. Where Daniel was a seasoned veteran on the track, Oscar was a new face on the pit wall.
And when Daniel’s performance started slipping, Oscar was where he placed his blame.
Suddenly, Oscar wasn’t his fellow Aussie, but his downfall. All of Oscar’s data and advice went out the window. Every time he spoke on the radio, he was met with silence or full, unbidden anger. In debriefs, they shared short, clipped conversations when they didn’t fall into full-blown arguments.
All of it made worse by watching his teammate cross the line in Abu Dhabi as a newly made world champion.
The sound of the team cheering as Lando took it all was deafening.
It was a moment to be proud of. Something McLaren had worked hard for. And Oscar was proud. Of the team. Of even Lando.
But he was envious. Of Will. Watching as he was clapped on the back by their bosses. As he started to cry tears of joy. As he congratulated Lando on the radio with unrestrained pride. As he watched Lando do donuts on the track, grinning even when he’d told him not to.
As Lando thanked him, voice shaky and full of tears, so grateful and disbelieving.
Meanwhile, Oscar had hoped that the sound of celebration wasn’t too loud as he’d clicked on Daniel’s radio.
“Good job, mate,” Oscar said evenly, trying to keep his message short and direct. “That’s, uh, P5. And the Constructor’s for us as well.”
There had been silence for a moment. Fireworks boomed in the air. So beautiful, and yet they made Oscar want to hunch in on himself. He kept his eyes forward on his screens.
He heard Daniel’s radio turn on, static buzzing in his headphones.
“And Lando?” Daniel asked, voice rough and heated. “He beat Max?”
Oscar blanched a bit. “Yeah, he did.”
Static. Static. Static.
Oscar bit his lip. “He’s the champion.”
Daniel didn’t respond, and Oscar heard the stillness that meant his radio was off. From the onboard camera, Oscar could see his fists clenched against the wheel.
He pressed the button for Daniel’s radio again.
”Really good job this season though, mate,” Oscar tried, bringing in as much fake lightness and pride in his voice as he could muster. A monumental task at this moment. “We couldn't have done this without you. It’ll be you next year for sure.”
A lie. Oscar knows Daniel is good. Know he probably does have what it takes to be a champion. But his temperament. The growing resentment towards the team, his teammate, and Oscar will never get him there. Oscar sighed to himself, fiddling with the cords of his headphones.
He’d only been met with more silence. Oscar looked over to Zak and Andrea. They were beaming with joy as they hugged. It made Oscar feel a little ill. Normally, Oscar doesn’t feel so out of place. He knows he’s worked hard to be here and is good at his job, even as young as he is. But he wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment.
“Thanks, mate,” Daniel said finally, voice flat and simmering with contained anger. ”Where should I park?”
Oscar took the chance to go off the topic at hand and walked Daniel through the ending procedure and led him to park beside a less disgruntled George Russel in parc ferme.
They shook hands in the celebrations and the photos and gave tense smiles in the debrief, but Oscar knew Daniel was filled with rage. Furious that he’d left Redbull for this. That he’d been beaten by a younger teammate again. That talks of retirement were swirling the paddock. That Lando had been the one to do what Daniel wanted more than anything.
Lando, who’d found Oscar in the crowd and smiled at him so brightly and sincerely.
“Thank you, Oscar,” he’d said, warm and genuine, shaking Oscar’s hand. It was warm and sticky with champagne.“I know you’re not on my side, but we wouldn’t have the Constructor’s without you.”
”‘Course, mate,” Oscar said, a bit dumbfounded. A bit shocked that Lando was talking to him and that he was talking to the new world champion. His eyes were rimmed red by tears, and Oscar could see his mum hovering in the background, wiping away her own tears of joy. The sight was enough to move anyone.
He offers Lando a smile that he hopes reads as sincere. “Congrats on the title, Lando. You deserve it.”
Oscar wasn’t quite sure he believed it or that Lando believed him, but the way Lando’s eyes had scrunched up in delight and offered him a toothy grin made the words settle right in Oscar’s stomach. Even as he drank champagne straight from the bottle with the rest of the team and watched Lando’s side of the garage celebrate in delirious pride. Even as Daniel had slinked away after a few minutes of obligatory photos. Even as he wallowed in his hotel room later, feeling like Daniel’s disappointment was entirely his fault.
“You’re smart as a whip,” Zak says, bringing Oscar back to the present. “You’ll have a lot to offer Lando.”
Oscar’s not sure about that. Didn’t seem to help Daniel, who now refused to even look at Oscar in the hallways.
And Lando. God, he wonders how he reacted to this news. Will has been with Lando since he started at McLaren. Had been by his side for 7 years now.
“And Lando’s ok with this?” Oscar asks, raising his brow. Because he has to know. Has to know if he’s walking from one hostile environment to another. If Lando thinks Oscar is incompetent and inexperienced. If he shares Daniel’s opinion.
Andrea coughs and avoids his gaze. “Lando knows that this is a good opportunity for Will to gain more experience as a leader, and I need him with me at the top. He’s taken Lando to the title. Did what he needed to do. Now he has opportunities here for his own growth.”
”But,” Oscar starts. Unsure what to say. Unsure how to not sound like an idiot if he says well ok but I failed your prize horse, Danny Ric.
“You are a valuable team member here, Oscar,” Zak reassures, that audacious American accent booming in the quiet of his own office. “What you bring to the table is unmatched. We think it’ll really help Lando this season. I know you’re the best bet to replace Will and help Lando get another title under his belt.”
So, they’re not even backing Daniel then. Oscar isn’t surprised, but it still feels a bit odd to hear it straight from their CEO’s mouth.
“And Daniel?” He asks.
“Daniel is bringing in an engineer from one of his old teams,” Andrea says, clearly a bit annoyed that he has to bring in outside talent. “But, he will be ok. Just focus this year on Lando and let’s work towards going back-to-back.”
Oscar nods. It’s not like he has much choice.
Seems like maybe Lando doesn’t have much of a choice either. He tries not to let his mind run wild, thinking of what that will mean for their partnership this season.
Truthfully, Oscar’s always thought Lando was nice enough. But a bit annoying.
He’s sure some of this is colored by Danny’s opinion. It’s not like he kept quiet about it. Talking about Lando like his friend on Thursdays, but hating him by Sunday.
It’s odd to say the least.
But Oscar has also heard Lando in meetings and on the radio. For such a good driver, he seems a bit helpless at times. Always bothering Will for help on such an obvious thing and being moody and silent when things don’t go his way.
Not to mention the way both his mechanics and Zak seem to coddle him. Even Andrea, who tries to stay subjective, clearly has some sort of fatherly soft spot for Lando.
He isn’t sure if it’s because he’s been with them since the beginning or if it’s because he practically bleeds papaya. Always taking the blame on himself and never blaming the team, even when it’s clearly their fault.
And the truth is, Oscar used to like Lando quite a lot as well. When Oscar was still driving, it felt like Lando was who he should aim to be. The kind of driver he should strive to be. One who excelled and was taken in by a good team at a young age.
But once Oscar had left driving behind and gone to University, he’d felt a bit of envy towards Lando. Lando, who joined McLaren so young. Learning from Fernando Alonso, for God's sake, and clearly being Zak’s golden boy. Lando, who seemed to have it so easy, beloved by the paddock and media alike. Always wanting to be the center of attention.
Even as Oscar had excelled and been poached in his own way by McLaren, it still felt like the work revolved around Lando Norris. That every part of the team’s success hinged on this…well, Oscar didn’t want to say boy, but he basically was. Almost acting like the team mascot. Like a little papaya Mickey Mouse.
Still, Oscar knows it is a bit of a privilege to work for the reigning World Champion. To get to sit on the pit wall and know that he’s looking out for car #1. To have the task of helping their world champion try and win races. Try for another Constructor’s. Try to make Lando a two-time world champion.
And to do it without the imminent cloud of rage that Daniel harbored over him, every time he called him into the pits, and it was the wrong timing. Or he tried to let him know where to brake, and it caused him to lock up. Or left him out too long and got overtaken by a Ferrari or Mercedes on newer tyres.
Oscar takes a deep breath and resolves himself to at least give this new partnership a full, honest try. To bring his best work forward. To prove his worth here. If only to sate his own desire to prove that he is good at his job and is worthy of being a champion’s engineer.
“Thank you,” Oscar says, forcing a smile onto his face for Zak and Andrea. “I appreciate the opportunity, and I’ll do my best to help Lando defend his title.”
He shakes both their hands before quickly leaving the room, waiting for the haven of his own office.
It can’t be that bad, he reasons in his head. Certainly, it can’t be worse than it was with Daniel.
And he won’t fuck this up. Not like he did with Daniel.
Can’t fuck this up.
No.
Oscar’s going to make Lando Norris a two-time World Champion.
----
Lando doesn’t want to sound like… well. Like a brat. But he doesn’t want Will to leave. It’s not like Will’s his dad or anything, but sometimes it feels like they have some sort of brotherly bond. The sort of bond that is only made from 7 years of teamwork. Of being made Champions together. He sees Will more than his own brother anyway.
Not to mention, even Lando can admit that he’s… a bit possessive.
His therapist might trace it back to being one of four siblings. That he felt a nagging need to find something of his own in a house of kids all chasing something, all clamoring for their parents' love and affection. The need for some individual attention as the smallest of his siblings, right in the middle of the order.
But Lando also doesn’t trust easily. Doesn’t feel like he has many people he can fully just be.. himself with. Just Lando. Not Lando Norris, McLaren driver. Or Lando Norris, World Champion. Someone who is allowed to have downs and bad moments without the entire world judging him. Someone who can be quiet and keep to themselves without expectation.
Sure, he has people who he can have that with who aren’t Will. He still has his family, and Jon and Max. People who have truly seen him at his most beaten down. When he was feeling worthless. Feeling like everything he said or did was wrong.
But, they couldn’t be in the car with him. They didn’t have a direct line into his ear once the visor went down. But Will was. And even when they snipped at each other or Lando disagreed with his notes or whatever, Lando still knew he could trust Will. That, at the end of the day, he cared for Lando. That he understood what Lando needed and that they were working towards the same thing.
Lando’s not stupid. He knows people think Will babies him on the radio or some bullshit like that. That Lando can’t drive without being walked through the entire experience. That he needs his hand held every step of the way. But Lando didn’t need babying.
Sometimes, he just needed someone in his ear who believed in him. In his driving. In his words. In his ability to make decisions behind the wheel.
And Will did.
And now Lando is the world champion.
And McLaren has decided that instead of helping him to defend his title with a trusted engineer. They want to give him Oscar Piastri.
It’s not that Lando doesn’t like Oscar.
He just doesn’t even think of him.
His title fight had been with Max. Not Daniel. So it hadn’t mattered much what the other side of the garage was doing. Unless it was fucking up their chance to get the Constructor’s. Which had happened more than a few times.
Though Lando wasn’t sure if it was the garage or the driver that had a part in that.
Lando does like Daniel. Honestly. Thinks he’s funny and easy to be around most of the time. They don’t work together as well as he and Carlos did, but they make it work. Can have a good laugh or chat.
He hopes they still can going into the new season.
Even if Daniel is growing to resent the team. Resent him.
When they’re off track, it still feels nice.
But Lando’s aware that Daniel doesn’t like seeing Lando do better. Qaulify higher. Get podiums and wins. Grab the title.
And Lando gets it. He wouldn’t want to see that either. Not when he’s been here longer. Been with McLaren as they struggled. But he thinks - hopes - he would be able to push past it. Be able to set aside his own disappointment and carry on. Still be able to laugh together. Still want to cheer for each other’s wins.
He’s finding that not to be true for Daniel. He’s hardly seen him since the last race. Since he did his media and took team pictures and left.
And apparently, made demands to Andrea.
He’s not sure what’s the chicken or the egg. If Will’s promotion or Daniel’s demand for a new race engineer came first.
But the consequences of either are here now.
And Lando was given no choice but to accept Oscar as his new race engineer.
Oscar, who delivered radio messages in that dry, flat monotone. Who spat out data like it was nothing. Who looked at Lando like he was a child.
Which was crazy. Because Oscar was younger. Had been at McLaren for far less time than Lando.
He didn’t know the whole story. But he knew that Oscar was some smart kid who’d been poached from university by Zak before he’d even finished. That’d he’d been hanging around the garage as an intern even when Lando was just getting used to being in F1. That he slotted into that pitwall seat like he owned it.
Posh for sure. Definitely from a rich family, Lando concluded.
Not in the way Lando was. Growing up in a good vibes, money is no issue, pursue your passions and artistic whims as you please type of way.
No, it seems like Oscar came from a business, no-nonsense type of rich. Boarding school and Oxford-type shit.
Smart, but smug.
Polite, but arrogant.
Sure of himself and looking down at others.
He’s sure Oscar likely thinks he’s a bit of a dumb athlete. A fool. A tool just there to put his data into practice.
Undeserving of his title.
“You’ve got to give him a chance, Bob,” Max says, looking at him. Lando huffs into his drink. Lando, who doesn’t even really like drinking outside of clubs, had reluctantly accepted Max’s offer of a beer. Anything to prolong their last night of freedom before Lando’s thrown back into the chaos of the season.
He hardly tastes the beer as it slides down his throat.
He’s been drinking a lot since winning. In clubs. At ceremonies. On yachts. Everyone and anyone wanting to treat the champion to celebratory champagne or doubles of premium liquor. He has a bottle of whiskey sitting in his kitchen from Zak. An expensive bottle of Italian wine from Andrea.
He’d be more worried about his liver if it didn’t feel like such a headrush every time someone reminded him he was the Champion. That he’d done it. That all the stress and tears and anger had been worth it.
Even if the glory is a bit short-lived.
Jon already has him working and sweating each day. His diet plan is back in full force. Alcohol on the ban list until he podiums again.
Still, he thinks he can stomach one last pint of shitty beer with his best friend before he’s thrown back into the season.
Until he’s back in the car without Will.
“It’s just that he’s so boring,” Lando bemoans, taking another sip of his drink. It’s cold, and he’s cold. He’d rather have a tea right now. “Like I don’t think he’s ever laughed in his life if I'm being honest.”
“You don’t even really know him,” Max points out. “Like, have you actually exchanged more than a few sentences with him?”
“I know Daniel doesn’t like him,” Lando points out.
Max rolls his eyes from where he’s sitting on the opposite end of his couch.
“Daniel doesn’t like anything that isn’t Redbull,” he says. “Besides, I’ve heard some of his radios. It seems like Oscar’s had a bit of a rough go. Like he’s giving good info, and Daniel doesn’t listen at all.”
“It’s his job, ain’t it?” Lando says, he sets down his drink on the coffee table and burrows further into the nest of blankets Max’s girlfriend has draped over the couch. “Sometimes we disagree with our engineers. I don’t always agree with Will. But it’s give and take.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you wanna be shouted at for two hours,” Max says, shrugging. His dog comes padding into the room, hopping up onto the couch and patting around until he settles at Lando’s feet. He revels in the much needed warmth and reaches down to stroke his fur. His chest feels a little open and hollow at the action.
God, he wants a dog.
“But, what if he’s not what I need?” he asks, focusing on where his fingers smooth out long, golden hair, instead of looking at Max. “What if I end up shouting on the radio? What if we don’t get on?”
“Well, you’re not Verstappen, mate,” Max says, tapping at his own glass. “You don’t need Will like you did before. Right? You needed him to help you get the title, and you’ve got it.”
“We just worked together well,” Lando says. “He understands that sometimes I just need to know I’m doing well. That I have the capability to do what I need to do.”
“Yeah, but you’re a different man now,” Max says simply. “You’ve proven you can be a champion. That you’re capable of great drives, mate. I’ve seen how much more confident you are. How much freer you look.”
Well, Lando can’t argue that. It has felt like his shoulders are lighter than ever. That he’d managed to do what he needed to. But there was still something lingering in the back of his mind.
“I just,” Lando starts, chewing on the words for a moment. “I can’t fight like Max again. It went against everything I know. Feels like it almost killed me. I don’t know if I can do that again.”
“No one’s saying you have to,” Max offers.
“I know,” Lando says. “It’s just… if I can do it again, then I want to do it my way.”
“You did do it your way,” Max emphasizes, and Lando can’t bear how he looks at him. All soft and concerned and everything Lando wants to avoid sometimes. Something that feels akin to pity.
“I did, but I still tried to copy Max in the end,” Lando says. “Still had to try and pull dirty moves and get under his skin. Which is stupid because all it ended up doing was have me in my own head. I want to do it without any of the bullshit. Just clean, honest racing.”
Max smiles at him. He looks at him like Lando’s some long-lost relative come back from a long time away. It makes him feel odd.
“Well, you’ve proven that you can do it once,” Max says. “Do it your way this time around. And maybe Oscar’s approach will help with that.”
“I just don’t see how,” Lando sighs. “I’m not used to working with anyone else. With someone who doesn’t know me. And he’s so cold and emotionless.”
“It’ll be different from Will,” Max agrees. “But defending a title will also be different. Different isn’t always a bad thing. Maybe you need a bit more logic to balance out your emotional side.”
Lando despises how that makes so much sense.
“Hm, when you’d get so fucking smart?” Lando bites out, making Max chuckle.
“When I had to make sure your stupid ass ate and didn’t have a mental breakdown last season,” Max says, rolling his eyes. “I’m like your fucking girlfriend sometimes.”
“Piss off,” Lando says, not really meaning it. Wanting to tell Max a lot of things he can’t quite vocalize right now. Can’t convey his own gratitude. Can’t quite say how much he needed Max when he felt like he was losing himself.
It’s too much for this moment. When he should be relaxing and trying to enjoy the company of his friend before it all ramps up again.
And he’s tired. He wants to curl up in his bed. Wants to sleep for a month straight to recover from the winter break travel and parties. Wants to drive his car with the same team he’s always had. Wants to fall back into what he knows. Not change everything. Not work with someone new. Someone so different from him.
He pulls at his hoodie strings until the hood closes in around his face.
This is going to be a long season.
----
Despite Lando’s resistance, they agree to meet for coffee and a chat on the last day at the factory before they head to Bahrain for testing.
Well, Oscar had sent him a calendar invite to his work email, and Lando felt like he should at least try. After a long week of Max and Jon bothering him about getting used to working with Oscar, and giving him an honest try at getting to know him.
Even Will had sat him down in the sim and suggested he give Oscar a fair chance. That’d he still be around at races and was still cheering Lando on. But Lando needed to accept the change.
He figures he owes it to them to at least try.
If only they’d know how unbearably awkward it would be.
Oscar insists on them chatting in his office. It’s smaller than Will’s, more exposed to the rest of the engineering team, but he has a door that closes and blocks out the noise. Gives them a smidgeon of privacy, for which Lando is grateful.
Even though they both spent most of the time traveling, Oscar has made an effort to decorate the space. Pictures of his family on the shelf behind his desk. A stuffed Koala next to them. A Lego model of Senna’s car. The desk is a bit cluttered, filled with papers and Post-it notes. Pen and highlighters scattered around.
Messier than Lando thinks it would be.
He tries not to be obvious about snooping as Oscar settles himself behind the desk and pushes a coffee cup towards him.
Lando sits in the chair in front of the desk, feeling very much like a naughty student sent to the head teacher’s office. He slumps in his chair and takes the offered drink. The sound of his sipping is loud as he waits for Oscar to speak.
Oscar, who shifts in his chair uncomfortably and pulls at the collar of his polo. He clears his throat and opens his mouth as if to speak before closing it again. He coughs and takes a sip of his coffee.
Two introverts then, Lando thinks.
He sighs and puts on his social, extroverted media persona.
“So,” Lando starts. “Excited for the season?”
It’s a stupid question. Cause what is Oscar going to say? No?
But he’s looking at Lando so blankly, Lando isn’t even sure what to say. Lando smiles in an attempt to lighten the mood.
People wanna say he’s charming? Might as well use it to break the ice.
Oscar nods, and for some reason, Lando finds the action irritating. The type of irritation that scratches at his brain and settles deep into his bones.
“Of course,” Oscar says, tone flat and dry as the desert. “It’s a big opportunity for me to be on your side of the garage. As the reigning champion.”
Even as bland as he says it, the words still send a thrill up Lando’s spine. Pumping him full of indescribable euphoria. He tries to temper the way the joy tugs at the corner of his lips, wanting to manifest as a huge grin.
“I’m excited to work together this season,” Lando says, evening his tone out and batting away his smile. Hopeing his voice doesn’t betray him. That it doesn’t come with his own brand of sarcasm. That it at least sounds sincere.
“Me too,” Oscar says quietly, sipping at his coffee. If he’s actually excited, he certainly doesn’t sound like it. Sounds more like working for Lando will be a special kind of torture.
“Yeah, hopefully I’m a bit of an easier client than Danny is,” Lando jokes, laughing a bit. “I know it was a bit of a hard time between you two.”
Oscar looks at him. Somewhat of that same blank stare, but there’s a hint of something in his face. His brown eyes a little darker as he looks at Lando. His jaw tightens and twitches a bit. His flat, impassive face hardening just the slightest.
Interesting, Lando thinks.
“What do you mean?” Oscar asks, even if they both know exactly what he meant.
“Ah, I just know you guys didn't like jive that well together,” Lando says with a shrug. Easy and light, but the words settle harshly in Oscar.
“Did he say that?” he asks, raising his brow.
Now, Lando feels awkward again. Even more than when they were sitting in silence, if that’s even possible. He knows there’s tension between them. That they didn’t work together well. But he’d never actually known if Oscar had felt the same sort of anger or irritation that Daniel had.
Even when Danny was clearly pissed on the radio and taking low blows to the team’s strategy or the instructions Oscar gave, Oscar never really sounded that mad. He spoke in that same flat, dry tone he was speaking to Lando in now. Lando figured he was just the sort of guy who was able to brush off the words. The anger. That he was professional and controlled. That he probably looked down on drivers who couldn’t always control their emotions in the heat of the moment.
But Lando had never seen Oscar’s face during the races. Obviously, how would he?
But now, looking at Oscar. Looking at the minute signs of unspoken annoyance and anger clouding his expression and hanging around the tightness of his muscles. Well, Lando’s clearly hit a nerve.
Not the best start to their professional relationship to piss off his new race engineer.
“No, I mean, kinda,” Lando says, feeling like words are sort of tumbling around in his mouth. Brain searching desperately for a way to take it back.“Just you know, difference of opinion, I suppose.”
Oscar scoffs and shakes his head.
“Daniel doesn’t listen,” Oscar says, scoffing a bit. “There’s no difference of opinion when he didn’t even take into account what others have to say. Maybe if he listened to me, his name would be on that trophy instead of yours.”
Lando jolts back with annoyance.
The fuck?
“Ay, what's that supposed to mean?” Lando asks, a bitter edge to his voice. Because he sure as hell hopes Oscar isn’t implying that Lando doesn't deserve that title. That he didn’t fight tooth and nail for it. That Lando only won it because of the team.
That Oscar doesn’t feed into the media’s bullshit. Into Daniel’s bullshit.
That Lando’s the golden boy. McLaren’s preferred champion. That they’d do anything to make sure he won and not Daniel.
That Lando didn’t win that championship with his own hard work and dedication.
“I just mean he had the potential,’ Oscar says, shrugging. Lando hates it. The way he says it is so smug. Like he knows better than Daniel. Than Lando. “But he doesn’t want to listen to the data. To the strategy. He thinks he knows better.”
That almost irritates Lando more. He has all the respect for the team and the strategists. But it's different when you’re the one in the car. Daniel wasn't always right on the radio. But he also wasn't always wrong.
It seems Oscar didn’t think that was the case.
No wonder Daniel hates this guy.
“Well, you aren’t in the car,” Lando argues. It’s not like he disagrees completely with Oscar’s assessment, but to think he knows everything? More than a driver that’s been around. Cause of what? Spreadsheets and watching a little dot on the screen. It’s laughable.
“I don't need to be in the car,” Oscar says, matter-of-factly. “I'm there to see everything you can't. You focus on driving right, and I focus on everything else. That’s what makes a good team.”
“There’s more to driving than just keeping the car on track,” Lando says. “Sometimes we know things you don't.”
“Like what?” Oscar asks, as if he can’t actually believe there might be something Lando knows that he doesn’t
Prick, Lando thinks.
“Like how the track feels or the tyres or if the suspension starts to feel off?” Lando lists off. “Or we can see what some of the other cars are doing that the cameras don’t pick up. We can help make decisions that you can’t see. Because we feel them. Before your little computer does.”
“If that’s true,” Oscar starts, drawing out the words in that stupid Australian accent of his. “Then why are you always asking Will for help on the radio?”
Lando’s actually speechless for a moment.
Fuck this guy, Lando thinks, glaring at Oscar. Twat.
“I trust Will,” Lando says evenly, trying to rein in the anger boiling beneath the surface. The temper that Lando's worked hard to keep hidden. “He knows when I need some extra help, but he also listens when I have feedback. He takes what I say back to the team. He trusts that what I say actually means something.”
Oscar’s face twists up as he thinks. He lets out a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself down before he speaks. “I’m not trying to fight with you, Lando. I’m just trying to work out what will be best for us. But this is my job. So when I speak on the radio, I need you to listen and to incorporate that into your driving. As long as you do that, then we’ll be fine.”
Fine.
Fine doesn’t win championships.
“But you don't care what I have to say,” Lando says, raising his brow.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you think you’re better than us drivers cause you have an education and shit,” Lando says.
Oscar doesn’t refute him completely. “I mean, this is what I went to school for, Lando. I studied for years to be an engineer, and I worked hard to get here. What I say matters. I study the data and the telemetry, and I use it to help you do the best you can do. I’m just saying sometimes drivers think they know better, but on the wall we have all the information we need.”
“Ok,” Lando says slowly. “But this is my life. I’ve been racing for longer than you’ve been in school. I don’t need a degree because I’ve been there. In the garage with the mechanics. In the wind tunnel. In the fucking car. I think I’ve picked up a thing or two on how to go racing. About how the car works.”
“I know,” Oscar says, flatly. “But I know things you can’t see on the track. You have a race engineer for a reason.”
“And I'm the world champion for a reason.”
Lando knows he sounds petulant. Probably the child, Oscar thinks he is. But he hates feeling stupid. He didn’t finish school. He didn’t go to university.
But Lando learned on the job. He learned from lockups and overtakes. From crashes and lost positions. He knows how these cars work. The team can design the cars on their computers or run them on the sim, but it’s Lando who can translate the way it feels under his body into actual, usable feedback.
“I’m not trying to argue with you, Lando,” Oscar says, clearly trying to placate him.
Lando’s not in the mood for this. To be talked down to. To have to be calmed down like he’s some hotheaded footballer.
People want the confidence of a champion.
A champion doesn't need this.
“Well, you’re doing a shit job of it already,” Lando says. He sets his cup down on the desk and stands up. His hands clench a bit at the side. “Guess I know what Daniel meant then.”
Oscar takes in a sharp breath. “Wait, Lando. I-.”
Fuck this. And fuck Oscar.
“See you in Bahrain, Piastri.”
He leaves the room without a second glance, feeling nothing like a world champion and every bit like the temperamental rookie he was 7 years ago.