#established lestappen and confused baby oscar who doesnt realize he's practically dating them my beloved

[nyoomfruits]

oscar dnf’d 😭😭😭 okay we need some lestapstri comfort fic now to cope 👩‍💻

you ask i deliver 🫡

Despite DNF’ing on only the second lap of the race, there’s a surprising amount of obligations Oscar needs to adhere to, which means he ends up leaving pretty much at the same time all the other drivers do. He’s just making his way through the paddock, waving at Alex and Logan as he goes, when he turns the corner, and nearly runs face first into-

“Charles,” he says, righting himself.

“Oscar,” Charles says, beaming. It’s clear he’s taken a shower, because his hair is damp and he smells like body wash rather than the sticky sweet scent of champagne. He’s wearing a lose Ferrari branded t-shirt, though not one of the obnoxiously red ones, and a pair of jeans, and there’s still that post-podium glow about him that he always gets, that happy little sparkle in his eyes.

If things would’ve gone differently for him today, Oscar would’ve taken his chances, would’ve crowded into Charles’s space, kissed him on the mouth, pressed him back into the motorhome behind him until Charles was moaning into Oscar’s mouth.

But with the way his race ended, he knows that’s not in the cards for him.

“We were just looking for you,” Charles says, and Max suddenly pops up behind him. He’s also freshly showered, and Oscar spends one grueling, self-flagellating moment wondering if they showered together, before deciding that way madness lies and banishing the thought from his brain.

“You, uh, why?” Oscar asks. To pity him, probably. Charles will tell him there’s always next race. Max will give him a play by play of what went wrong and how he can do better next time. And then they will say their goodbyes and go back to their hotel room to-

To fuck.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Charles asks. “I thought, since the last few races..” He trails off then, sending Oscar a confused look.

Right, last few races. When Oscar made it into the points. When Oscar was actually, you know. A worthy opponent. Was actually worthy of them.

But he knows how it works, in the racing world. Being invited into someone’s bed is a privilege, something that only happens when you’re performing. So when you’re not-

“I didn’t finish in the points today,” he says, “I didn’t even finish at all. I DNF’d.” He doesn’t understand why he has to explain this to them. Charles is Carlos’s teammate, for fucks sake. He should definitely know what happened.

“No, we know that,” Charles says. Behind him, Max is frowning. “If you want some alone time, that’s fine, we can-“

Max interrupts him, suddenly. “Oscar,” he says, voice even, careful. “Did you think we were only sleeping with you because you were scoring points?”

Oscar pulls a face. “Well…” He says. It had started in Silverstone, after all. They’d approached him after, kept telling him how well he did, and then when he’d landed in their bed, it had felt like a dream come true.

A dream he ended up dreaming again at the next race, when he once again finished in the points. And then yesterday, when he’d gotten a Sprint podium. So yeah, he did think it was about that, if he’s honest.

Charles and Max look absolutely horrified. Charles actually has a hand on his heart, and Max looks both shocked and slightly murderous.

Okay, so. Maybe not then.

“Oscar, no,” Charles says, reaching forward, tentatively touching Oscar’s chest, his shoulders. “We. We like you. We like having you with us. We were,” he glances back at Max, who nods. “We were actually going to ask you to spend some time with us, over the summer break. See if we could turn this into a more. Well, permanent thing.”

“We want to date you,” Max clarified.

“Oh,” Oscar says, suddenly feeling a little small, and a little stupid, and a lot overwhelmed. “Oh. Oh, that’s. Uh. I would like that, yes.” He says, voice quiet. It feels like a dream, still somehow. Max reaches out, squeezes his shoulder, and Oscar sways into the touch.

“Great!” Charles says, beaming. “Fantastic! Can we get going now then? You know how horny podiums make me.” He gives Oscar a sultry look and then sends a mischievous one to Max over his shoulder.

Max rolls his eyes as Charles starts practically skipping away. “He’s not wrong, you know. He does get very horny.” He reaches out his hand.

Oscar takes it. “Good to know,” he says, and then follows after Max and Charles.