Archive of Our Own ^beta

It happens on Friday, the day of free practice, during the Monza race weekend. Lando enters the McLaren hospitality at… well… an early enough time.
He has said hi to everyone in the garage and hospitality. Everyone except Oscar.

Which is weird, because lately the Australian has made it his goal to enter the paddock as one of the first. He walks upstairs, hoping to find his younger teammate there.

The common room is almost empty. Two engineers are chatting at a table close to the stairs. Charlotte, Oscar’s PR manager, is sitting on the other side of the room holding a tablet. Lando walks up to her.

“Good morning, is Oscar not here yet?” the Brit asks her.

“Huh?” Charlotte looks up from her tablet. “Oh, hello, good morning. He was here half an hour ago. I’m not sure where he went.”

“I- uhm… I’m here.”

Lando jumps and looks around. There’s no one there. Charlotte and he are alone. But Lando could swear he just heard Oscar’s voice.

“Did you hear that or am I hallucinating?” the Brit asks the blond woman.

“So it wasn’t my imagination?” she replies.

“Guys… I’m here…” Oscar’s voice again. Lando thinks it sounds slightly high-pitched. He still doesn’t know where it’s coming from.

Lando frowns. Confused as hell. “Oscar?”

“Yep, that’s me… Look down…” the Australian says, “and try not to freak out too much…”

The Brit does as he’s told and immediately freaks out, because right next to the table leg is his teammate. A very tiny version of him…

“O- Oscar?!” Lando blinks, trying to figure out if what he’s seeing is real. The Oscar he is looking at is barely twenty centimeters tall. The size of a hamster, if a hamster had the long lanky limbs of a human.

Lando steps closer and crouches down. “Please be careful with those enormous shoes of yours. I don’t want to die,” Oscar says as he hides slightly behind the table leg.

“Lando… Why is my driver the size of a notebook?” Charlotte says over Lando’s shoulder. She sounds just as puzzled as the older McLaren driver feels.

“Oscar, why are you small?” the Brit asks, brain to mouth filter nowhere to be found.

The tiny Australian shrugs. Small shoulders moving up and down. “I don’t know guys. There was this lady. She, uhm… yelled something in Italian and threw a rock at me?”

“What?” Charlotte asks.

Lando is done with it and grabs the back of Oscar’s shirt between his thumb and pointer finger, lifting him up and placing him on the table.

The little Australian sputters and coughs as he places him down. “Did you just scruff me like a cat?!” he yells exasperated.

“Context, Oscar! We need context!” Lando complains.

“That hurts, mate. Don’t do that!” Oscar grouches as he rubs his throat.

Lando tries not to be frustrated with his teammate. The one who still hasn’t explained why he is tiny.

“Explain…” the Brit says, uselessly flapping his hands towards the Aussie.

The tiny man flinches at the movement. Then folds his arms and gives him a deadpan stare. He stays silent. Waiting.

“Okay, alright… fine…” Lando grumbles. “Sorry for scruffing you like a cat. Can you please explain what happened?”

Oscar huffs. “I really don’t know. Before I entered the paddock I was held back by this Italian lady? Mid-thirties. Seemed to be a Ferrari fan. She yelled at me in English about Charles. Then she started talking in rapid Italian, I think. And then she threw a colorful rock at me, saying something about a hex? That was when the security guys showed up and removed her.”

“And then you shrunk and walked all the way here?” Lando asks. He squints at the Australian. As weird as it is, the story sound believable in a way.

“No, no. Nothing happened, yet. I walked here no problem. Even had a talk with some people, Charlotte included. Then I started feeling awful, so I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes. Next thing I know I open my eyes, and the table looks like a skyscraper.”

Lando and Charlotte are standing next to each other, looking down at a tiny Oscar. Lando still can’t believe what is happening, even though he’s seeing it with his own eyes.

“So you got hexed by a weird Italian lady,” Charlotte tries.

“I think so, yes…” Oscar confirms.

“Did she tell you what you had to do to reverse it?” Lando asks.

The tiny man throws his hands in the air. “I have no idea. Maybe that was in the Italian part? She didn’t sound very sane to be fair.”

Lando rubs at his goatee. Taking in the situation. Oscar is frowning. The Brit can imagine the Australian’s frustration.

“I think I’m going to go tell Andrea about the situation,” Charlotte hesitantly tells them as she points towards the staircase with her thumb. “You two stay here.”

Lando watches her go and takes a chair and sits down at the table. He places his elbows on the table and looks down at the tiny Australian, taking in how small Oscar actually is right now.

“You’re clothes shrunk with you as well,” he mumbles absentmindedly.

“Thank god… Imagine being tiny AND naked…”

Lando huffs out a laugh at Oscar’s deadpan joke. It blows back the Australian’s hair. Oscar pats it back down again with another grumble. His hands have always been smaller than Lando’s, but right now they might be just as small as the nail on Lando’s pinky.

“How are you not freaking out,” Lando says, amazed at Oscar’s chill behavior.

“I am freaking out. I have been freaking out…” Okay, he’s not feeling as calm as he looks apparently.

The Brit feels bad. Of course Oscar is freaking out. Lando imagines shrinking to Oscar’s current size. It must be scary as fuck. Lando must look like a giant to the Australian and said giant picked him up without asking for permission.

He grimaces. “Hey, uh, I’m sorry for picking you up out of nowhere.”

Oscar sighs. “It’s alright… It is actually nice to be at sort of eye level? Makes me feel less like I’m going to be accidentally stepped on.”

Lando flinches at that. Because holy shit, what if someone steps on Oscar? Would he... die? He looks at the tiny Australian in fear, because yes, this situation is actually extremely dangerous for him. His arms are as thin as twigs, small twigs. He has to be as weak as a small rodent right now.

He wants to test his theory, because if that is the case, Lando is not letting him out of his sight.

“I’m going to try something,” Lando says as a warning. Oscar gives him a questioning look. The Brit can see an edge of fear in his eyes.

Lando gently places the pad of him thumb on Oscar’s head and pushes him softly. Oscar falls flat on his ass, not able to withstand even the lightest pressure.

“Ow! Lando, why!” the Aussie says as he stands up, rubbing at his hip.

Lando is too busy panicking to apologize for his actions. “Oh my god, no! Oscar, you might die if you stay tiny,” he gasps.

“If nobody pushes me off a table or steps on me, I think I will be fine…” the Australian tries to reassure him. He doesn’t succeed.

Lando wants to wrap his teammate in bubble plastic. That, or he’s holding onto him for the rest of the day. Oscar can’t protect himself from anything in this state.

Andrea takes that moment to walk in. “I hear Oscar shrunk?” he asks.

“Yeah, and I don’t how to fix it,” the tiny man says from his spot on the table.

The team principal comes to stand next to the table and slams his hands on the tabletop in surprise when he sees that Oscar has actually shrunk.

Lando immediately throws his arm between his tiny teammate and Andrea’s hands. “Careful! You might kill him!”

“I’m not going to die, Lando!” Oscar says, exasperated.

Oscar can claim that, but Lando isn’t going to take any chances. He likes having Oscar as a teammate. He is nice, and extremely talented. A calming presence in the garage. If he dies because of this stupid situation, Lando will not be finishing this season. Too heartbroken to keep going.

“I can’t believe you shrunk, Oscar…” Andrea buds in.

The Australian tells him the full story.

“I guess no free practice for you until we figure out how to turn you back, Oscar,” the team principal says, stating the obvious.

“I can’t even reach the steering wheel right now, so that might be a good plan.”

Lando appreciates that Oscar is staying true to his personality. His deadpan replies calm him down a bit.

“I… need to talk to some people… I will see you at the briefing,” Andrea tells them and dismisses himself, leaving the two drivers alone.

Lando and Oscar stay silent for a second. Then Oscar walks to the edge of the table and looks down. It strikes fear in the Brit’s heart. He wraps his fingers around him. Making sure he doesn’t fall off.

“Don’t do that…” Lando says, worry in his voice.

Oscar swallows, using his tiny hands to hold onto one of Lando’s fingers. “You know what, you’re right. That is terrifyingly high…”

Lando lets out the breath he was holding.

“How am I supposed to get to the meeting room though?” the Australian asks.

“I could carry you, if you’re okay with that of course,” the Brit says.

Oscar looks up at him and lifts an eyebrow. “Do I have any other option?”

Lando grimaces. He really doesn’t. He can’t even get off the table without the older drivers help and the steps of the stairs are taller than Oscar. There is also still the very real danger of getting stepped on.

“I will carry you all day if you want me to,” Lando vows.

“That’s really nice, but I don’t want to burden you,” Oscar tells him.

“And I don’t want you to die…”

The Australian rolls his eyes, it’s almost too tiny of a movement for Lando to notice.

“Good! Glad we agree,” the Brit says with a huff.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay fine, please carry me,” Oscar relents. “But nicely. Don’t scruff me.”

Lando carefully scoops him up in the palm of his hand, wrapping his pointer finger and thumb around his middle like a little seatbelt. “Alright, where do you want to go?” the Brit asks him.

Oscar gives him a bewildered look, probably freaking out about being picked up. The blush on his tiny cheeks tells Lando he is feeling embarrassed as well.
The Brit isn’t going to let him overthink it. He gives a questioning hum.

“I- uhm, downstairs. I want to talk to my engineers before we have to go to the meeting.”

Lando does as told, carrying Oscar in his hand. Once they are downstairs, the Australian speaks up again. “Lando, you carrying me like this is making me feel like a Barbie doll… Can’t you put me on your shoulder?”

“You know what, yes,” Lando replies. He holds his hand next to his shoulder and releases his thumb so Oscar can get out of his grip. The Australian grabs hold of his shirt and Lando feels him crawl up.

When two tiny hands grab his ear, Lando has to repress the urge to flinch, freezing every muscle in his body so he doesn’t throw his teammate off. “Oscar, not the ear. That tickles. I might swat you by accident.”

“Oh, sorry,” the Australian says right next to his ear. The tiny hands leave Lando’s ear and grab hold of his hair instead. The Brit is suddenly thankful for his choice to grow out a mullet. It gives Oscar some longer hair to hold onto.

“I will never make fun of your height ever again… The ground looks very far down from here,” the Australian mentions. The older driver snorts at the comment.
He walks to Oscar’s engineers, feeling like the iron giant with the younger driver standing on his shoulder.

The moment he reaches the Australian’s team, they all freak out over tiny Oscar. Honestly, who wouldn’t. He knows that the entire team will know within minutes.
-
Lando stands there, waiting for Oscar to wrap up his conversation. He zones out for the most of it.

When Oscar apologizes for the situation, his entire team is up in arms in a moment, because this is in no way the Australian’s fault. Lando agrees with them full heartedly.

When it’s time for the briefing, Lando and Oscar say goodbye to them. Lando starts walking. Halfway through the McLaren hospitality, the Brit can feel Oscar starting to lose balance, he immediately cups a hand around him, keeping him from falling.

“Are you doing alright?” the Brit asks him.

“Yeah, uh, it’s a bit hard to keep my balance when you’re walking. My legs are straining to keep me standing,” Oscar explains.

“Sit down then,” Lando argues.

“Well, then I can’t reach your hair…”

Lando thinks for a second. “What if you sit here?” he asks, pointing at the space between his neck and the collar of his McLaren polo. “Then you can hold onto my shirt.”

“Great, more skin contact…” Oscar complains.

The Brit huffs out a laugh at that. “I think we are past that, Osc.”

The Australian sighs and Lando stands still as Oscar sits down in the spot the Brit recommended.

It is a better spot, Lando realizes when he starts walking again. Oscar can even brace his feet against the Brit’s collarbone.

They reach the meeting room and Lando grabs some pieces of paper to make notes on, before sitting down in one of the chairs surrounding the ring of tables.

He lifts his palm up to his shoulder. “Want to walk around on the table for a bit?”

“Oh, yes please,” Oscar says as he sits down in Lando’s hand, his feet hanging over the side. It’s pretty cute, the Brit thinks.

He places his tiny teammate on the table, right next to his pen and paper.

The rest of the team files into the room. Of course everyone wants to have a chat with Oscar. They’ve heard about the situation already, the story spreading around like wildfire. But to see tiny Oscar is to finally believe it.

The meeting starts, and Oscar politely sits down and crosses his legs. He listens to what is being told, but as the meeting drags on, he stands up and starts pacing around. Lando knows why; Oscar won’t be participating in practice and it’s making him restless to listen to what he should be doing if he WOULD participate.

Lando clicking his pen right next to him is probably also not helping.

He’s okay with giving Oscar some space, but then the Australian starts walking close to the edge of the table again, this time out of Lando’s reach.

A horrifying memory pops up in the Brit’s mind. He remembers a terrifying Instagram post about hamsters dying in the most insane ways. From falling to their deaths to getting crushed between doors.

And so he is looking at Oscar walking way too close to his doom while he thinks about all the morbid ways a tiny creature can die.

He knows Oscar is not a pet. He knows Oscar is smart. But still…

“Psst! Oscar!” he whispers. It catches the Australian’s attention. Lando beckons him over. He walks to the Brit and stands in front of him.

“Did you just psps me like a cat?” Oscar whispers back, both eyebrows lifted in an ‘I dare you’ expression.

Lando holds up his hands and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Oscar squints at him.

The Brit tells him what he called him over for. “Do you maybe want to draw, or something?” he quietly suggests. He holds out his pen. Oscar giggles as he takes it from him, wrapping both arms around it. He sets it down next to him and then they both realize it reaches Oscar’s chest.

Lando can’t hold back the giggle. Trying to muffle it behind his hand. It doesn’t work, and the older McLaren driver immediately gets scolded for it.

“Lando, pay attention! This meeting is important. For you especially,” Andrea tells him.

The Brit grimaces and focuses back on the meeting.

It's a bit hard though, when Oscar is using his full body to draw on the piece of paper before him. He goes right through Lando’s crappily written notes, not having the hand-eye coordination to wield a pen almost as tall as him. He’s smiling, and it makes the Brit happy to see him finally be less stressed.

When the meeting is over and everyone is leaving, Lando leans towards the piece of paper and squints at it. “What is it supposed to be?” he asks Oscar. The Australian jumps and turns towards him, only to stumble back. “What, is there something on my face?” Lando asks.

“Nope, no, it’s just a little too close for comfort…”

“Hey! Rude! I like to think I have quite a handsome face,” the Brit protests.

Oscar fidgets. “Uhm, uh, not saying you don’t have a handsome face. But I’m seeing it in 4K over here…” Lando is taken aback by his comment. “Did anyone tell you before that you have very long eyelashes?” the Australian rambles.

“Hm, no. That’s a first,” Lando replies. He saves the both of them from the awkward moment. “So, what did you draw and why did you feel the need to go over my notes?”

“It’s uhm… It’s supposed to be a Formula 1 car,” Oscar says. If Lando turns his head to the side, he can see it. “And your notes were a mess anyway. Like, what is this supposed to say?” The tiny man points his pen to a scribble.

If Lando focusses he can make out the words ‘brakes’ and ‘turn’. The rest is illegible.

“I know exactly what it says, Oscar. But I’m not going to tell you. I’m not revealing my strategy to you,” he bluffs.

The Australian gives him a look that screams ‘you are an idiot’. “Uh huh, sure…”

Lando rolls his eyes. Oscar smiles at him.

“What time is it?” the Australian asks him. Everyone else has left the room. Lando looks at his watch.

“It’s time to grab an early lunch,” Lando says. He holds out his hand. Oscar sits down on his palm and lets the Brit lift him up to his shoulder. The Australian moves back to his now rightful place between Lando’s neck and collar. They leave the pen and paper behind.

The place where lunch is served is in the other McLaren building, the one connected to the garage. Lando walks there with Oscar on his shoulder. He tries to avoid showing the tiny man to anyone. He thinks he succeeds pretty well.

When they reach the lunchroom Lando has a bit of a realization. The portions are a decent size, but Oscar isn’t a decent size right now. “Oscar… What are you going to eat?”

“Oh… Maybe I can snack on some of what you are getting?”

“Huh yeah, sounds like a plan,” Lando replies.

And with that the older driver takes a plate and scoops whatever he likes on there. There’s a bowl of fruit as well, so Lando takes some pieces. He sits down at an empty table, wanting some privacy from the rest of the team. They respect it as usual.

He grabs hold of Oscar and places him on the table. The Australian is starting to get used to being picked up and held out of nowhere. Instead of complaining about it, Oscar goes right to circling Lando’s plate, figuring out what he wants.

Lando scoops some salad on his fork and munches on it, waiting for the younger driver to choose.

That is until Oscar steps up on the edge of the plate. Lando immediately lays down his fork and moves the Aussie away from his plate. Thumb on his chest, pointer finger on his back.

“Osc… Don’t walk on my plate with your dirty shoes…” Lando huffs.

Oscar sighs. “Sorry, can you roll that grape towards me?”

The Brit does what he’s being asked and moves the green grape towards him. Though, when Oscar picks it up, Lando bursts out laughing.

“It looks the size of a melon in your hands! Aw…”

The tiny man giggles. He tries to take a bite of it. “Lando, this is going to sound stupid, but could you cut it in half?” He looks a bit embarrassed. The Brit thinks it’s endearing.

Cutting it in half once is apparently not enough. Lando thinks he has never dissected a grape like this before in his life. He finds it really funny. Especially when Oscar starts eating the parts as if he’s eating a melon.

The Australian takes just as much time to eat one whole grape as Lando needs to empty his plate. “Anything else you want?” he asks. Oscar points at the strawberry that lies abandoned on the plate. Lando resigns himself to cutting the fruit into even tinier pieces.

“This feels stupid,” Oscar says after he finishes the strawberry.

From the comment the Brit understands that the younger driver feels embarrassed and frustrated. “It is kind of stupid,” he agrees, “but it’s also something you can’t control. Don’t let it get to you.”

“What if I stay like this forever?” Oscar points down at himself, an angry wave of his hands.

“You won’t. We will figure something out. Or the curse breaks itself. Maybe it is only a matter of time?”

“Ugh, I wish I knew…” He sits down and props his head up on his knees. Lando feels bad for him. He ruffles his hair with his fingertip. It makes the little guy look up at him.

“You said it was a hex, not a curse. Isn’t a hex less permanent or something?” he thinks out loud.

Oscar shrugs. “I don’t know witch things… Aren’t you the one who knows astrology?”

Lando snorts. “I only know I’m a Scorpio. I don’t even know what that means…”

His tiny teammate giggles.

“But again, Oscar, you will be fine. You won’t stay tiny forever,” the Brit says with a kind smile.

The Australian smiles back at him, cheered up by Lando’s words.

-

Oscar ends up on his teammate’s shoulder after they finish lunch. In one hour free practice starts. Lando likes getting ready early, so he heads down to the garage.

Though, the moment he walks in, someone bumps into him. Lando can’t focus on the man in front of him, because Oscar is sliding off his shoulder. His necklace pulls taut, biting in the back of his neck, as the Australian frantically grabs hold of it before he falls to his doom.

Lando reacts instantly, slapping both hands over his chest, catching Oscar. The person who bumped into him apologizes and walks off, but the Brit doesn’t hear it. Too focused on his teammate.

In his hurry, Lando forgot about his own strength and Oscar’s now fragile body. The Australian has gone limp, his hands falling off the necklace.

Lando panics. When he carefully lifts Oscar from his chest, the poor guy’s head lolls forwards.

He killed Oscar. Oh god! In his panic Lando frantically rushes to the only place he can think of. He bursts into his driver room, slamming the door behind him. He sags down to the floor and cradles Oscar in his hands.

Tears fill his eyes as he looks closely at his tiny teammate.

He sighs in relief as he notices Oscar’s chest rise and fall. He scoots over to the couch that occupies the back of his room and gingerly places the Australian down on the soft pillow.

“Oscar?” he asks nervously. He softly runs his fingertips up and down his back.

“Oscar, I’m sorry,” Lando whimpers, “please wake up…”

What if he broke him?! What if he cracked Oscar’s skull or broke his neck on accident! Lando is suddenly reminded that the Australian broke his rib only two months ago, what if he undid all the healing and snapped two more?!

Should he get someone? Is first aid even possible on someone so small?

Oscar jerks, and starts coughing frantically. He tries to sit up, but Lando keeps him from doing that by lying his hand on top of him. If there is anything the Brit knows of first aid it’s that someone injured should never get up quickly.

“Thank god, you’re not dead!” Lando says. “Stay down. Are you hurt anywhere?” he continues as he strokes his thumb over his teammate’s shoulder.

Some more coughing. Oscar shakes his tiny head. “I just got the wind knocked out of me,” he says between winded breaths.

“I am so so sorry,” Lando says.

Oscar tries to take deeper breaths. “’S not your fault. Happy you caught me. Falling to the ground would’ve been worse.”

His teammate could have died right then and there. It terrifies Lando.

“I’m glad you’re okay, but you’re getting the pocket treatment for the rest of the day,” the Brit tells him and then leaves him to go look for the shirt he was wearing this morning.

“Lando, please…” Oscar complains from his spot on the couch.

“Don’t disagree with me. You almost fell to your death,” Lando looks back at him and crosses his arms. The Australian is slowly sitting up.

“Yes, but I didn’t, and the pocket treatment sounds embarrassing. Also, don’t you have to get ready for practice?” Oscar tells him.

Lando looks at his watch. “Ah shit… You’re right…” He looks at the Australian who has a hopeful expression on his face. Probably because he’s avoiding pocket treatment.

But he is right, Lando needs to put on his fireproofs and racing overall. Both of which do not have any pockets.

“Okay fine, but between free practice 1 and 2…” the Brit says.

Oscar throws his hands up in the air. “Fine! You’re acting weird today, Lando.”

“My teammate, who shrunk to the size of a hamster, has a death wish… Of course I’m acting different…” the older driver grumbles. “Also, you are unusually angry…” he bites back.

“Of course I’m angry! I shrunk to the size of a hamster and my teammate hoovers over me like a worried mother hen,” Oscar grouches.

Lando scoffs and turns away from him, done with the conversation. His teammate is never this annoyed and grouchy. It pisses him off, but also worries him. It means this situation is definitely getting to Oscar. He’s not used to seeing the Australian this affected.

He grabs his racing clothes and takes off his shirt. He hears a soft squawk somewhere behind him but ignores it.

Once he’s changed, he turns back to the couch. Oscar is sitting there quietly, looking to the side with a frown.

“Come on, Osc. I will make a little space for you in the garage,” Lando says. He holds out his hand for the tiny man. Oscar gets up slowly and crawls into the Brit’s hand. Lando doesn’t put him in his shoulder this time, holding onto him instead.

He walks to the garage and finds a nice empty spot at the table in between their boxes. Kim, Oscar’s trainer, is there as well. “So this is where you went of to huh,” the man says to the tiny driver. Lando puts Oscar down on the table so he can chat with his trainer.

The Brit walks to the headsets lining the wall and grabs Oscar’s, the OP printed on both sides. He grabs one of the available free to all tablets lying there as well.

When he comes back, Oscar and his trainer are still chatting. Lando turns the headphones on, connecting them so Oscar can hear his radio. He places them on the table. There’s a ten centimeter gap between the ear cups, meaning that Oscar can sit or stand between them.

He turns on the tablet and starts up the app that shows all the cams. He folds the cover into a tablet stand and places it in front of the headset.

“Alright. Oscar, what do you think?” he breaks into the conversation. The Australian walks over the table towards Lando’s creation.

“Nah yeah, this is good,” the younger driver says. He looks up at his trainer. “You know when kids find a ladybug and they put it in a container with airholes, some leaves, and a stick? That’s how I’m feeling right now.”

Kim laughs.

“Hey!” Lando says, slightly offended. Oscar turns towards him and grins at him. “I like it. Thank you.”

The Brit walks off to his car and his team, but not before ruffling Oscar’s hair with a fingertip.

“Have a good practice!” he hears behind him as he walks away.

He talks a bit to his team and then it’s time for practice. The cameras are on. All cars drive out of the garages and line up in the pitlane. Well, every car except one. Oscar’s car stays in it’s box. Lando just knows that the camera is on his tiny teammate.

The whole world now knows that the Australian is mini sized at the moment. The Brit hopes people don’t bother him too much, the poor guy has enough to deal with.

He tries to push the thoughts about his tiny teammate to the back of his mind as he enters the track.

He makes his rounds, sets a first time, and then a second, before coming back to the pits.
His team jacks up his car and moves him into the garage so they can change some things.

Lando is surprised when Charlotte walks over, holding a tiny Oscar. She places him one the side of the cockpit. “He wanted to talk to you,” she says with a shrug when the Brit looks at her with a frown.

“Yes,” Oscar says as he sits down on the side, legs dangling into he cockpit. Lando places him arm so that if the Australian falls, he won’t fall all the way down. He looks at him through the gap in his helmet.

“Hi,” the tiny man says with an awkward wave. Lando snorts.

“I think you can improve corner eight if you start it differently,” Oscar tells him. When Lando doesn’t stop him, he burst into an explanation, using an imaginary steering wheel with his hands to show his point.

Lando tries to focus on what he is saying and not on how cute it is to have a tiny Australian on the edge of his cockpit yapping about how to take a corner.

When the team signals they are done, Lando signs to Charlotte to get Oscar. He looks a bit uncomfortable when she picks him up, but the younger McLaren driver waves at the Brit as she takes him away. Lando giggles and waves back.

When he is back on track, Lando tries Oscar’s advice and finds out that it works. He practices for a bit longer. Until a red flag comes out.

“Everyone okay?” he immediately asks. “Yes, Antonelli spun into the barriers, but he is okay,” his engineer tells him. “Aw no! On his debut. That sucks man…”

When Lando’s car is moved into the garage, Oscar gets unceremoniously placed onto his sidepod again. They chat a bit about Antonelli and the pressure of Formula 1 debuts, especially with how high the expectations are for the young Italian.

They both agree that Kimi Antonelli should be proud of the time he set in his first lap.

Lando can tell that Oscar is annoyed that he isn’t driving right now. He keeps asking questions about the track and the car, both of them running the same setup this weekend. Well… If Oscar IS driving this weekend. So he listens kindly and asks for some advice here and there, because he realizes his teammate is watching his onboard camera to make up for his own missed practice run.

The track clears and Lando is allowed to go out again. He pats Oscar’s leg with a finger, a thanks and hopefully a comfort. Charlotte comes over and takes the tiny Australian away again.

The rest of free practice goes without issue and Lando sets a time he is quite happy about.

He gets out of his car and goes to Oscar first. “Wanna come with?” he asks the Australian as he holds out his hand. Oscar doesn’t even know where to, but still sits down in Lando’s hand, letting him take him wherever.

Lando goes to chat with his engineers. The Australian just chills and listens in. Since the older driver is standing still, he allows Oscar to stand on his shoulder for a bit. The tiny man gets involved in the conversation way more when he is on eye height, Lando notices.

The moment everyone moves off to do their own thing, Lando grabs him again. He sets him on the table by the headset again. “Stay here, I’m going to change into normal clothes…” he tells him. Oscar listens politely.

Lando jogs off, not wanting his teammate to be alone for too long. He goes into his driver room, quickly showers to rinse of the sweat sticking to his skin. He dries himself off and grabs his normal clothes, the outfit he was wearing when he entered the paddock this morning.

The team might complain, but the McLaren polo doesn’t have a pocket. His own shirt does; a chest pocket.

He rushes back to the spot he left Oscar in. When he gets there, the Australian doesn’t notice him at first. He is using his entire hand to swipe to the next page on the tablet. Lando sees he is checking everyone’s times.

The Brit doesn’t interrupt him. He puts his elbows on the table quietly and rests his head on top of his hands, watching the tiny man interact with the tablet.

That is until Oscar notices him in the corner of his eye. “Oh, you’re back.”

“What are you doing?” Lando asks kindly.

The Australian shrugs. “Checking out everyone’s rounds… Could be useful…”

The Brit sighs. Oscar is feeling left out and from the way he is holding himself he might even be feeling useless at the moment…

“Come on, let’s go do something. Walk around the paddock for a bit, chat with some people. You know, the usual. Like we always do on Fridays,” Lando tries.

“If I say yes, are you actually going to keep me in your pocket…?” he sounds reluctant.

Lando looks down at the chest pocket on his black shirt. “I think it’s the safest spot. You scared me earlier. What if I can’t catch you the next time.”

“It’s so embarrassing though… People are going to look at me weirdly.”

“Oscar, you shrunk. People already look at you weirdly.”

The Australian crosses his arms. “Not helping.”

“At least try it,” Lando tries to persuade him. “Maybe it’s a comfy spot. And if they look at you, I can say something stupid like; ‘Hey! My eyes are up here’.”

The last part makes Oscar giggle. “Okay fine. So, how are we doing this?”

“Hm… maybe treat it like a hammock?”

To Lando’s confusion, the Aussie sits down and takes off his shoes.

“Uhm… treating it like a hammock means no shoes apparently?”

“Of course. Who wears shoes in a hammock?” Oscar says as he puts his tiny shoes next to the tablet. “Alright, bend over.”

Lando snorts, but does as the Australian says. “Don’t make this weird, mate,” the younger driver warns him. He grabs hold of the pocket with his tiny hands and rolls himself into it.

The Brit rights his back. He can feel Oscar struggle around for a second. He looks down to see him sitting upright in the pocket with his legs folded. One of his arms rests on the lip of the pocket.

“Huh, this is actually quite nice,” Oscar comments. He looks up at his teammate. “It looks comfy,” Lando tells him.

The Australian nods. The older driver notices a slight blush on his cheeks. The poor muppet must still be feeling embarrassed.

“Okay, let’s go on a walk,” Lando tells him.

But before they can leave the McLaren hospitality, one of the Social Media Managers notices the pocket situation.

“Lando, Oscar, please! That is so cute! Can I take a picture for the gram?” he says.

Lando looks down at his teammate, who replies with a look of his own and a big sigh. “Let’s get it over with…” Oscar says.

The Brit smiles at him. They both agree to the picture. They are Formula 1 drivers; they can’t avoid their media responsibilities. Lando tries not to dwell on how giddy the manager looks when he takes the picture.

Yes, having a tiny Oscar in your pocket is cute. But if too much attention gets pulled to it, Lando knows that his teammate will want to leave and hide in a corner.

Luckily, the guy lets them go after and Lando resumes his plan to walk around the paddock.

It isn’t too busy outside, so they don’t get bothered anymore. Lando babbles to Oscar and probably looks like an idiot while doing so. The Australian gives witty replies when he first starts his walk.

He replies less and less as Lando makes his rounds. Until the Brit asks him a question directly and he gets no reply at all. He looks down and finds Oscar asleep. His tiny arm dangling out of the pocket, moving every time the older driver takes a step.

Lando tries not to squeal, because that’s adorable. He comes to a standstill and carefully grabs Oscar’s limp hand with his thumb and pointer finger, gingerly placing it in the pocket as well so he can’t hurt it.

The Australian sleeps through it. His little head resting against Lando’s chest. With how he is sitting in the pocket right now, not even his head peaks out. No one can see what (or who) is in Lando’s pocket.

He walks around the paddock with a happy smile on his face. He greets some fans from a distance, not daring to get close. Right before he can get back to the McLaren hospitality, he gets roped into an interview. “Just a short one,” the media lady says.

The Brit relents. But only because it will make his PR manager happy. He answers the questions diligently until she asks: “one last question, Lando. What do you have in your pocket?”

“It’s my phone!” he answers cheerfully as he shows them his Samsung smartphone from his rear pocket. She rolls her eyes fondly. Lando does not elaborate anything further.

He is able to get away after. When he looks down at his chest pocket, he sees Oscar is still snoozing. Not knowing he almost got exposed. Lando will protect his dignity.

That’s how he ends up taking the tiny man with him everywhere. He even sits through another meeting with Oscar in his pocket. Every time he walks through a crowd, he cups a hand over him so nobody can accidentally bump into him and hurt him.

When it’s time for the second free practice of the day, Lando is sad that he has to wake him up.

He moves to his driver room again, hopefully saving Oscar from the embarrassment of falling asleep in his pocket.

He carefully rubs a fingertip over the Australian’s shoulder, and then his cheek when that doesn’t wake him up.

“Osco, come on buddy, wake up.”

Oscar grumbles and Lando can feel him try to curl up further. The Brit boops at the frown on the tiny man’s forehead. “I need to change into my race suit, you can’t keep napping in there.”

The Australian scrunches up his face before blearily opening his eyes. He sleepily stretches, or tries to. The pocket isn’t large enough to fully stretch out. One of his socked feet sticks out of the pocket.

Lando giggles. Cute.

He is losing time though and Oscar looks way too comfy in his pocket. He carefully grabs the man under his arms and drags him out. He gently places him on the couch.

“What the hell… It feels like I woke up from a coma…” Oscar says as he rubs his eyes. “How long was I out?”

Lando hums. “One or maybe two hours? You didn’t miss anything, don’t worry.” He turns around and changes into his fireproofs.

The Australian yawns behind him. “It does feel like a hammock in there. Really comfy, would recommend.”

“Damn, I’m jealous. I hope someone hexes me next time,” Lando jokes.

“So I can carry you around all day?” Oscar says with raised eyebrows.

“Uh huh!” The Brit grins at him.

“Who says I would return the favor?”

Lando stares at him.

Oscar looks away. “Nah yeah, I would…”

The Brit might have a goofy smile on his face in response.

-

The time for practice rolls around and Lando drops Oscar off at his spot on the table. Charlotte is there.

“Oh my god, there you are Oscar. I haven’t seen you in a while and then I found your shoes,” she fusses. “I thought you turned to dust or something. A next level of your curse…”

“Sorry, I’m fine. Still alive, as you can see,” the Australian tells her as he puts his shoes back on.

“He just had a little nap,” Lando says over his shoulder as he walks away.

He can hear Oscar sputter behind him. The Brit is already too far away to hear any of his complains. Lando wears a smile as he puts on his helmet.

-

Second practice is the same song and dance as the first one. He drives, tries different lines, sets some times, he gets called into the pit.

Stationary in the garage, Oscar gets placed on his side pod again. Apparently, he holds his face too close to the mini Australian, who grabs a hand full of eyebrow hair through the gap in the helmet and pulls.

“Ow! Why?! What did I do?!” Lando whines as he jerks his face away. He blinks at his teammate.

Oscar has a frown on his face, his arms folded over his chest. “You’re an asshole sometimes, you know that mate?”

“What? Why?”

“Thanks to your comment I had to explain it to Charlotte and then Andrea walked up and demanded the full story,” Oscar says exasperated. “By the end of the day, the entire team will know I napped in your pocket…”

Lando grimaces. “Ah shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Oscar huffs and looks away. After a couple of seconds he seems to shake himself. “Anyway… About turn nine…” And then he goes off on a rant about Lando’s steering and braking. The Aussie gives ideas on how he can improve, what he would have tried if he was on the track right now, and Lando dutifully listens.

The Brit is kind of sad when the team signals they are done and that he can go out again. It means that Charlotte takes Oscar away from him again. Lando likes hearing his teammate yap and the younger driver is doing it even more than usual today.

It might be a combination of Oscar being small and frustrated, and the trust that’s building between them from the close interaction they are having today.

Napping in someone’s chest pocket builds a bond, apparently.

The rest of practice goes the same. Every time he is in the garage, Oscar has a little chat with him. It’s why the first thing Lando does when practice is over is go over to Oscar and ruffle his hair with a finger.

“You’re sweaty…” Oscar complains as he fixes his hair.

Lando grins at him and leans down so he is more at eyelevel with him. “Thanks for your help, Osc. That fastest lap was because of you.”

The Australian doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with a soft expression. Lando flashes him a toothy smile. “I will be right back,” he says, before walking off to his driver room. He leaves behind a flustered looking tiny teammate.

-

Lando showers quickly, for the second time that day. He puts on his own shirt again, the one with the pocket, and walks back to Oscar.

“I have one last briefing. Want to come with?”

The Australian nods and takes of his shoes again. Lando holds out his hand. “I can keep them safe for you,” he says. Oscar nods and places the tiny shoes in the offered hand. Lando puts the shoes in his jeans pockets and then leans over so the younger driver can climb into his chest pocket again.

With his precious cargo in place, Lando and Oscar sit through one more meeting with the team before they are dismissed.

But before they walk out of the meeting room, Andrea stops them. “Do you two have any idea yet how to break Oscar’s curse? Because if he is still tiny tomorrow, I need to inform one of the reserve drivers.”

Oh shit, Lando hadn’t thought about that. What if they can’t break the curse and Oscar stays tiny?

“I’ve done some Googling actually,” Oscar says from his place on Lando’s shoulder, where he had climbed to during the meeting. “But the amount of possible solutions is a bit overwhelming. And a lot of them are quite creepy, I have to say… Burning incense or reciting a Psalm seem to be the tamest ones.”

“Oh my goodness… I don’t think we should mess with the witchy stuff… What if we make it worse and you explode or something,” Lando tells them.

Andrea is looking at them weirdly. “You know what, this is something you two can figure out. If you need my help with anything, let me know.”

-

It's how the two of them end up in a spiritual shop after wrapping everything up at the paddock. All of Oscar’s belongings and his car stay there. It’s not like the Australian can use any of it right now.

It's weird to Google ‘spiritual store close to me’ and then drive there in a McLaren with your teammate in your chest pocket, Lando thinks. But they are here. The man behind the counter greets them in Italian as they walk in. Oscar is hiding, but peeks over the fabric to look at the items on display.

“So, sage or incense?” Lando mumbles to him. “Hm, yeah and Himalayan salt? A blog mention having a salt bath,” Oscar whispers.

The Italian shop owner is suddenly right next to them, spooking Lando. He immediately shields Oscar from his view. The man starts talking, but Lando has to interrupt him with a “sorry, no Italian…”

“Ah, is okay. I can do English,” the man says. He looks to be in his fifties, salt and pepper hair. A kind smile and a twinkle in his eyes. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh uhm… We- I mean- I have a magical problem. My friend got cursed, and I am trying to break the spell,” Lando tries. He feels stupid. Magic isn’t real, he still doesn’t one hundred percent believe in all the horoscope crap and rituals, even after what happened to Oscar today.

This man probably thinks he fell on his head or something. The store has to be meant for people who like to meditate or collect funny rocks.

“Oh, what sort of curse?” the man asks with interest. He frowns at the hand Lando is keeping on his chest, the one keeping Oscar from view. “Does your chest hurts?” the shop owner asks with a heavy Italian accent.

“Uh no, uh…” Lando doesn’t know what to do. They need help from a professional though, and the man hasn’t laughed in his face yet. Fuck it…

“My friend shrunk…” the Brit says as he lifts his hand, showing Oscar in his pocket.

“Woah! How bizarre! That is a very hard spell to do,” the man immediately says. He leans closer to Oscar, who leans back, making Lando lean back in response as well.

“We need to know how to break it,” the older driver says.

The man rubs at his chin. “How did it happen?”

“Uhm, a lady yelled something in Italian and then threw a rock at me?” Oscar explains.

The man nods. “Sounds like a hex. Less hard to break than a spell or a curse. It might take time, but a hex normally breaks itself.”

Lando isn’t happy with that answer, because Oscar needs to qualify tomorrow. And race against him on Sunday. “Well, is there a way to speed up the process?”

“Ah, the usual things. Meditating, salt bath, sitting in the moonlight holding a crystal. That sort of thing.”

Lando rolls his eyes, doubting any of those will work. “A true love’s kiss?” he jokes.

“Old fashioned, but it might work,” the man says with a shrug as he turns away to rummage through some items. “What color was the rock?”

Oscar shakes himself from his thoughts. “Blue, I think.”

The man hums and grabs some things. He walks away from them, gathering several things in the store and then beckons them over the counter.

“So, I have here Himalayan salt for a cleansing bath. You can also add hyssop to it,” he points at the dry twigs. “sage, which is for burning, and a holder. And amethyst.”

Lando can’t follow what he is saying. But it is worth a try. He looks down at Oscar, who shrugs at him.

“Can it make the curse worse?” the Brit asks.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“Then we will take everything.”

Lando pays for the weird items. The man kindly puts them in a paper bag.

Now he stands outside, with his teammate in his pocket and a bag of spiritual items and Lando tries to keep himself sane. Oscar demands that the Brit lets him pay it back when is his capable of it. The comment does keep Lando from spiraling.

“It’s 6pm, do you want to come with to my hotel room? I can order some food and then we can try some of these things,” he asks his tiny teammate.

Oscar sighs. “Yeah, let’s do that…” He sounds tired, done with today. Lando understands.

-

They drive to Lando’s hotel. It doesn’t take long for them to enter the room. The Brit drops the bag with items on the bed.

He takes Oscar out of his pocket and places him on the small desk, letting him stretch his legs.

He's hungry, so he quickly orders lasagna with garlic bread through room service. The food gets delivered quite fast. Lando eats the lasagna after breaking off some small pieces of bread for Oscar.

“This is stupid…” the Australian says. He’s sitting on a block of sticky notes, a clump of bread in his hand. “I’m very much done with this.”

Lando hums. He feels sorry for his teammate. He doesn’t know what he would have done if he was the one who shrunk. Probably cry and lock himself up somewhere.

“We can try some of the things we bought after we’re done eating…” he comments.

Oscar agrees, but Lando can see he has lost hope.

When the Brit’s lasagna is gone and Oscar decides he’s had enough bread, Lando grabs the bag and rummages through it. He takes out the sage and the holder the spiritual man advised them.

“Not sure what the hotel rules say about burning sage, but lets ignore that…” Oscar says.

Lando snorts. He places the sage in the burner holder thingy and grabs the matches they got as well. He lights a match and holds it against the sage until it starts smoking. He blows out the match and then they wait.

He looks at Oscar, who is still sitting on his throne of sticky notes. “Feeling any different yet?”

“I feel disgusted by the smell, but nothing is happening.”

Lando hums. “Let’s wait for a bit longer.”

They do wait for a bit longer. Thirty minutes later, nothing has happened and both Oscar and Lando are getting cranky from the smell. The Brit takes the bundle to the bathroom and douses it.

“Okay, so that didn’t work… What’s next on the list?” the older driver asks as he walks back into the bedroom. He throws the sage into the thrash can underneath the desk.

When he looks up at his teammate, the tiny Australian is lying on his back, his arm over his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t really care anymore. This isn’t going to work,” he mumbles. “I will just wait it out.”

“Aw come on Osc. Don’t give up. One more!” Lando encourages him. “We can do the bath one. It will be nice even if it doesn’t work.”

Oscar sighs, but removes his arm from his face. “Okay fine… One more…”

Lando smiles at him and holds out his hand, palm flat. The Australian stands up and walks over, stepping on top of it. He doesn’t sit down this time, so Lando keeps his hand as steady as possible as he moves the small man to the bathroom.

He lies his hand down on the sink countertop and Oscar steps off. “Actually… How are we doing this?” the Aussie asks with a frown.

Lando hasn’t thought of that yet. He just thought to draw a bath, but forgot that Oscar is tiny, and he might drown… The sink maybe? But then he wouldn’t be able to get out.

“How about a coffee mug?” he tries carefully.

“Ah, no way…” Oscar grumbles. Lando lets him think it through. “Ugh okay fine…” the younger driver eventually says. The Brit wonders about his thought process, but doesn’t ask.

Lando walks back to the desk and takes one of the coffee mugs that the hotel provides. He grabs the salt and herbs from the paper bag as well and returns to the bathroom.

Oscar watches on as he puts the salt and herbs in. Lando turns on the tap and waits for it to be a comfortable temperature before filling the mug with water.

He places the mug on the counter in front of Oscar with a clink. And then waits.

Oscar looks up at him. Blinks at him. Lando doesn’t move.

“Go on, try it,” the Brit says as he waves at the mug.

“Lando, can you like… leave?” the Australian tries.

Oh god… Of course! He’s an idiot. Oscar is going to bathe. That usually involves being naked. He blushes.

“Shit, sorry, I wasn’t thinking…” he stumbles over his words. “Let me grab you a towel before I go.” He opens the drawer underneath the sink. He finds a fresh face cloth. One of those thirty by thirty centimeter towels. It would cover Oscar’s entire body.

“Here,” he places the towel on the counter. Slightly away from the mug, so it doesn’t get wet. “Call me if you need anything or if you start feeling weird.”

He shuffles out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. Wow, that was awkward. Lando cringes at himself.

He sits down on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and grabs his phone from his pocket. He distracts himself by looking at his social media. There’s a bucketload of photos and stills from tiny Oscar. So much for distracting himself.

He decides to watch some reels instead. Thirty minutes in, he realizes it’s awfully quiet. “Oscar?”

“Yeah?” he hears through the door.

“Doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing is happening though…”

Lando hums. He lets the tiny man be.

Another half an hour later he hears a splash of water. “Fuck this, I’m done…” Lando hears Oscar say. Then there’s the sound of small feet on stone and the rustle of cloth.

A couple minutes later Oscar calls for him. “Lando? Can you come pick me up?”

The older driver gets up from his spot. He covers his eyes as he walks into the bathroom.

Oscar snorts. “You can look, I’m not naked,” he says.

Lando peaks through his fingers and once he finds out that yes, Oscar is indeed wearing clothes, he drops his hand.

“So that didn’t work either…” the Brit says as he holds out his hand. Oscar stands on it again.

“No…” the Aussie says dejectedly as Lando carries him into the bedroom.

“Do you want to try the rock thing? The moon comes out in about an hour. I checked it online,” the older driver says.

“No, I’m done with this… I’m tired…” Oscar grumbles. Lando sets him down on the bed.

The Brit sits down next to him. “Hm… So uh, what about the true love’s kiss?” he mumbles.

Oscar gives him a strange look and coughs. “Where- uhm… Where could I get that?” His tone of voice is off, Lando notices.

“Well.. uh…” Lando swallows. “I love you- as a- as a- a teammate. Of course.” He scratches the back of his head.

He can see Oscar’s face turn red before he hides it behind his tiny hands. “Lando… Please don’t do this… Not now…”

“We could at least… you know… try?” the Brit says timidly.

Oscar whines. Actually whines. “Your face is getting nowhere near my face. That’s not something I want to deal with today,” he complains.

Lando can see how uncomfortable he is. “Sorry… I didn’t mean… I was just-”

“I know. I know. You are just trying to help,” Oscar soothes him. “And that’s really sweet. But I think I just want to go sleep.”

Lando watches him walk over to the pillows. He climbs up the one that Lando hasn’t used, the linen covering it still smooth. The Australian lies on top of it, the pillow dipping under his meager weight. He curls up into a ball.

Lando looks at him sadly. “Okay, have a good rest, Osc. We will figure something out tomorrow,” he says as he leans over to ruffle his hair with his fingertip for the last time that day. Oscar leans into it.

And then Lando lets him be. He moves over to his desk and entertains himself with games on his phone for another hour, until he starts to get sleepy as well. He puts on his nightclothes and takes Oscar’s tiny shoes from his jeans pocket. He places them next to his own full sized shoes and HAS to take a picture of the difference between them.

He goes through his bedtime routine at a leisured pace before crawling into bed as well. He makes sure to keep his distance from Oscar, scared he might accidentally roll over and crush him in his sleep.

It takes a bit of time, but he eventually falls asleep.

-

Lando wakes up with a mouth full of hair. When he swipes it away with his hand, he finds out the hair is attached to something. Or someone.

Lando opens his eyes and looks down. The sunlight filtering in through the gap in the curtains gives him a clear view of his teammate.

Oscar, a normal sized Oscar is lying on his chest.

And Lando is awake, immediately.

“Oscar!” he shakes the mans shoulders. “Oscar, wake up.”

The Australian wakes up with a grumble. He opens his eyes and looks at the Brit. And then abruptly sits up.

“You’re back to normal,” Lando says with a smile as he sits up as well. Oscar looks at his hands in confusion, and then at Lando.

“I’m back to normal!” Oscar gasps. He looks at the Brit with an overjoyed expression, eyes twinkling.

And Lando can’t help it. He pulls his teammate into a hug, wrapping his arms around him. Oscar hugs him back and squeezes. “I can’t believe it,” the Australian says into Lando’s shoulder. “I can drive today!”

Lando laughs. “And you can race tomorrow.” He pulls his teammate a little tighter.

-

That day the Papaya boys have a qualification that results in a front row lockout. But only after a slightly awkward start of the day that involved sharing a bed and getting to the paddock together.

If Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri seem even closer after that weekend, with lots of soft smiles and them reaching out to each other more often, the two of them know why.