Chapter Text
The crush itself was embarrassing. Not the liking men, Max had accepted that a long time ago, but the liking Oscar fact was upsetting. Oscar was a bit awkward, he preferring to listen to conversations than speak up. He was more reserved than the other drivers on the grid. Max had yet to see him out partying despite keeping an eye out for the man. Oscar also had awful taste in music and seemed to stunt all his outward emotional responses.
The music was perhaps forgivable, and if you simply paid attention to him, Oscar was quite expressive in his own way. And pay attention to Oscar, Max did. Max found everything the man did hopelessly endearing. Yet he could admit Oscar was still probably not the most obvious candidate for a paddock-crush.
The main issue was this: they're friends off track, frequently going to padel or running together. Even out to meals a couple times when they both felt like breaking their trainers’ hearts. Outside of the circus of the paddock, Max would even push to say that they're close friends. They had gotten close last year during the season. Between shared podiums and the battle for constructors, they spent a lot of time in the same physical space, it was natural that they just started to gravitate closer outside of track limits. By the second half of the season, Max was seeking Oscar out after every race.
They talked about their hobbies, their families back home. Once Oscar had listened to Max talk about his cats for nearly an hour. He also found the aussie extremely funny. He wasn’t a big joker like Daniel, but his dry wit and sarcasm suited Max quite well.
The season went on, and Max’s dreams for a fifth slipped slowly out of reach, all the while the Oscar issue grew. The slight crush was fine when Oscar first joined the grid. He barely knew the man, but becoming actual friends has caused the feelings to exponentially multiply. Max obsessed over the other man’s personality and their growing number of interactions of course all while Oscar’s looks also lingered on his mind.
The other issue, beyond the general distraction of a paddock crush was the issue of his rivalry with Oscar. Or rather the lack thereof. Oscar was supposed to be his direct competition. As soon as they stepped foot in the paddock, they were supposed to be enemies. Instead, Max was ogling Oscar's arms like some teenage girl.
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Max was a little disappointed in himself, it was still so early in the season after all- now was not the time to fold. But folded he had and extremely fast. Max had of course embarrassed himself in one conversation.
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As always Jeddah was hot. Humid and sticky it felt like a sauna on Max's skin. Post quali Max felt good, a very solid P1 had him feeling great. Great enough to seek out Oscar to discuss tyre deg, but Max had apparently used up all his luck in qualifying. As he approached Oscar somewhere between their team's hospitalities, he saw that instead of his typical fireproofs, Oscar had on one of McLaren's new cooling vests.
Upon having Max suddenly in his space, Oscar immediately launched into conversation. He seemed to do that with Max more than others- starting conversations rather than waiting for the other party to start it. Max is trying so hard to pay attention, but he simply can't. He makes out Oscar say something about downforce but he really can't focus on anything but Oscars arms. Oscar's got his race suit undone, the top half hanging by his waist. And instead of the long sleeve fireproofs he usually wears, Oscar’s arms are crossed on top of that stupid vest.
It's shocking, how good they look- Max likes every part of Oscar obviously, but Max thinks that he has never liked anything more than he does Oscars arms right now. With them crossed over his chest he can see the muscles flexing with every shift in posture. The vest leaving his shoulders on display also means that Max is staring at his biceps every time Oscar gestures about something. Max knows he ogling- knows he's doing nothing more than staring at Oscar. Max hums in agreement occasionally, hoping it's at the right times in the conversation. But they just look so good and Max is just a man, everything Oscar says is just going in one ear and out the other- he distantly hears Oscar stop talking.
”Max.” Oscar says a quizzical look on his face.
Shit. Max thinks, he isn’t quite sure how to explain this one.
”Are you listening?” Oscar asks, voice colored with concern.
”Of course.” Max replies. He wasn’t really- too busy staring at Oscar’s arms, but Oscar doesn’t need to know that.
”Yeah mate? So what do you think?”
Fuck. Max has no clue what Oscar was saying. At some point he knows the conversation shifted from tyre deg but whatever Oscar was just talking about is anyone’s guess. So, Max says the first thing that comes to mind.
”Your arms look really good in that vest.” Fuck. This is quite possibly the biggest fumble Max has ever pulled off. Why the fuck would he say that? He couldn’t think of anything else to say? At all? This is a new low Max thinks, there’s no way he's recovering from this. He seriously hopes that he bins it turn one tomorrow. Maybe the crash can cause some amnesia and he can completely forget about this whole interaction.
As Max is mentally beating himself up about his stupid mouth, Oscar begins to flush. Max loves how easily Oscar blushes. His cheeks get so pink so quickly, it’s one of Max’s favorite quirks. It feels good to be the cause of that blush even if it is at his own detriment. He's still hoping for amnesia or some freak lightning strike, but Max thinks Oscar having this reaction is the second best thing.
One second turns to five of Oscar just standing there staring at Max, his face getting redder and redder, the blush spreading from his face down his neck. Just as Oscar opens his mouth to respond, someone calls Max’s name. Max gratefully takes the out. He pats Oscar’s bare shoulder, letting his hand linger a moment too long. He’s already screwed the whole interaction, might as well get something out of it. Then he quickly makes his way towards the voice. Stranding a silent and gaping Oscar in the middle of the paddock.
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Oscar doesn’t know what the fuck just happened.
One minute he’s talking to Max about the downforce of the Williams, and the next minute Max is complimenting his arms, touching him, and then fleeing. Not that Oscar minded the compliment. If he's being honest, he does a lot of things day to day in hopes that Max will compliment him- but this one was a bit unexpected.
Oscar knew that his crush on Max could be seen from space. Logan's not even on the grid anymore and still teases him about it. It's all quite embarrassing he thinks. Not liking Max, Max was as good enough as anybody to have a crush on. Rather it was embarrassing how much Oscar liked him. Max was attractive yeah, that's like an objective fact, but Oscar found that he liked Max's nuances even more.
He loved playing padel with Max during their off days. Seeing Max hot and sweaty was nice, but the time spent together was invaluable. He loved hearing about Max's family, about his sister and nephews, and his cats. He loved how incredibly passionate Max was about all types of racing, not just F1. Max had told him about his plan to race GT3 during the season and Oscar swears he could see stars in Max's eyes when he told Oscar about it.
So okay, maybe Oscar has had a crush on Max since before he even joined the grid. And sure, maybe Logan's been telling him to do something about it since 2023. But that doesn't mean he ever wants Max to know.
In the back of his mind Oscar thinks this is all a big joke.
That Max has found out about his crush and is now leading Oscar on in some sick game. Oscar pushes that thought away almost instantly, Max is not cruel like that. Oscar knows that if he ever found out about his crush that Max would be overly kind in letting him down.
Oscar begins walking back toward the McLaren motorhome, he has to go back to his hotel soon, he can't spend the rest of the day gawking in the middle of the paddock wondering what just happened. Sure, Max has complimented his appearance before, but nothing as overt as that and certainly never while looking at him like that.
When he gets back to his driver’s room Oscar catches his reflection in the mirror. Dammit he thinks, he's blushing. Not the usual post-race exertion blush, but full-on ear to ear blushing. Oscar knows he blushes easily, knows that it's one of his biggest tells but it's seriously not helping his whole 'hide is crush from Max plan'. Suddenly he has to be back in the hotel. He can't risk seeing Max again and having to explain why he's beet red from one compliment Max probably didn't even mean anything by. He quickly changes and collects his things.
The second he gets back to his hotel room he calls Logan. It's the only thing he can think to do really. Time difference be damned, Oscar's not working through this alone. Logan answers on the first ring.
"Hey man! I watched quali, nicely done! I was just about to call, I was hoping to catch you before you crashed for the night." Logan says clearly smiling.
Oscar's glad to hear his best friends voice. It's nicer talking to Logan now that he's back in the states and getting ready for IMSA. Whether or not he races doesn't really concern Oscar but it's nice to hear his friend so happy again. But now is not the time to get emotional about Logan's mental status, he has more pressing matters.
"Yeah nah, quali was great. Listen I have something really important to tell you."
"Oh? What's up?" Logan replies, concern lacing his voice.
"I was talking to Max earlier and then like out of the blue, he compliments my arms and then nearly sprinted off." Oscar says, stringing the words together. The faster he says it, the faster Logan can help him make sense of it. "And like, while I was talking he wasn't really responding, just staring at me."
"And? I told you he wants you, you just didn't listen." Logan says slightly bored sounding. "I thought you said you had something important to say."
"This is important! I couldn't even say anything back before he took off running. I mean not that I had anything to say, but something would have been better than nothing. Instead I just stood there and let him pat my shoulder and run off!" Oscar knows he's rambling but he just can't help it. What is he supposed to do? His longterm crush (and championship rival, his brain reminds him) and just complimented him and caressed his arm.
"Wow." Logan manages to say when Oscar takes a breath. "Y'all have been really embarrassing about each other for over a year, don't chicken out now just because he beat you to the first move."
"It was not 'a move'," Oscar retorts, "We're just friends. He doesn't like me like that."
"Whatever you say. Listen man, why don't you sleep on it and get back to me once you've realized that Max actually might be even more obsessed with you than you are with him- which quite frankly is impressive."
"You're a dick"
"Love you too, goodnight Oscar." Logan hangs up.
Oscar huffs, lowering the phone from his ear. He doesn't know why he called Logan. In all their years of friendship the american has never once been helpful. As he gets ready for bed Oscar considers what Logan was saying. Maybe Max does like him back. Maybe the lingering looks and touches mean something more than Max just being a generally tactile person. In the end, Oscar thinks, it doesn't really matter anyway. He'd rather quit racing all together than try to talk to Max about it and be wrong, so as he lays down to sleep he tries to forget about it. Tries to forget just how much one compliment made him want Max even more. And if he dreams about a certain driver touching his arm? Well that's his business.