Summary:
"Holy fucking shit, it's confirmed," Lando exclaims, forcefully pushing the door open until it slams into the wall, creating a resonating thud that echoes through the room. Oscar, engrossed in his computer, turns around with a raised eyebrow, curiosity etched across his features.
"Huh?" the Aussie questions, a hint of confusion in his voice.
"Lewis...Lewis is going to Ferrari in 2025," Lando breathes out, his tone carrying a mix of excitement and disbelief.
___________
"Holy fucking shit, it's confirmed," Lando exclaims, forcefully pushing the door open until it slams into the wall, creating a resonating thud that echoes through the room. Oscar, engrossed in his computer, turns around with a raised eyebrow, curiosity etched across his features.
"Huh?" the Aussie questions, a hint of confusion in his voice.
Lando meets Oscar's gaze with a mischievous glint in his eyes, a dangerous sparkle that makes Oscar swallow nervously. The air is thick with anticipation, and it's clear that whatever Lando has to share could be either really good or profoundly bad news.
"Lewis...Lewis is going to Ferrari in 2025," Lando breathes out, his tone carrying a mix of excitement and disbelief.
Oscar's eyes practically pop out of their sockets, or at least that's what Lando expected. Instead, the Aussie raises one eyebrow, staring at Lando as if he's grown a second head.
"Really funny," the younger man mumbles skeptically.
"I'm not joking, Osc!" Lando laughs, walking up to Oscar and thrusting his phone screen in front of him.
"Wait, holy fuck," Oscar mutters, his eyes glued to the screen.
"Yeah. Holy fuck indeed," Lando snorts, a triumphant grin on his face.
"That's insane," Oscar finally manages to articulate, his mind catching up with the revelation.
"Yeah."
Both guys lock eyes, the weight of the news settling in as they share a prolonged, contemplative silence that speaks volumes about the magnitude of the revelation. The room is charged with a mix of disbelief, excitement, and perhaps a touch of anxiety about what this unexpected move might mean for the future of Formula 1.
As the seconds tick by, the two guys process the information, their expressions shifting from shock to realization. The mere idea of Lewis Hamilton, a stalwart of Mercedes, making the switch to Ferrari is enough to set the motorsport world ablaze. And definitely twitter. It's a seismic shift that promises to redefine rivalries, reshape championship dynamics, and add an intriguing chapter to the sport's storied history.
"Do you think we're fucked then?" Oscar asks, a tinge of concern coloring his voice as he contemplates the potential dominance of a Ferrari team boasting both Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc as teammates.
"Pff, please, we're McLaren, we're fine. Well...unless they build another tractor for us, not fun times," Lando responds with a wince, causing Oscar to snort in amusement.
"I still can't believe my eyes. I am in desperate need to tweet something funny now," Oscar almost whines, turning on his chair to face his pc, hastily opening Twitter.
Lando laughs, "Be my guest, I'll back you up on this."
"I think we need popcorn," Oscar suggests, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Yeah, we do," Lando agrees, nodding in approval.
Oscar starts typing up something on Twitter when suddenly a realization hits Lando.
"Wait, what about Carlos," Lando mumbles.
"Huh?" Oscar turns his face to stare at Lando, pausing his typing. "Oh yeah, fuck that guy. I couldn't care less," Oscar rolls his eyes, going back to typing.
"Hey, he's my friend, you know," Lando says.
"Yeah, and I still have no idea why. You know, as your boyfriend, I should, like, demand you to not talk to him anymore," Oscar mumbles, a playful tone in his voice.
"Hey, you know I do not let him disrespect you in any way," Lando defends himself, snaking his arms around Oscar's waist and resting his head between his shoulder blades.
"I know, I'm kidding. Still couldn't care less on where he goes though," Oscar mumbles, melting into Lando's touch.
"Oh, I know you don't," Lando presses his lips to the younger's cheek.
Oscar turns to face him. "Well, tweets posted, better back me up here," Oscar smirks.
"Always," Lando grins back mischievously and kisses Oscar on the lips.
"We're still beating everyone's asses though, 24, 25, 26—I don't care what year it is," Lando winks.
"Hm, McLaren Constructors Championship? I like the sound of that," Oscar teases.
"And Lando Norris as the world champion," Lando mumbles against Oscar's lips.
"Actually, it's pronounced Oscar Piastri, not Lando Norris. Plus, maybe you should get a win first," Oscar smirks.
"I hate you," Lando huffs.
"You love me," Oscar laughs lightheartedly.
"Yes, I do. Now let me reply to that tweet of yours," Lando says, pulling away and grabbing his phone. "Oh, look, you're already breaking Twitter once again with your iconic tweets," Lando laughs, staring at his phone.
"I'm just that good," Oscar shrugs.
"Yes, you are," Lando nods, tapping away on his phone.
"Done. Now, let's go to bed, get some popcorn, and watch shit go down," Lando says, pocketing his phone and extending his hand for Oscar to take.
"Hm, love the sound of that," Oscar smiles, stumbling towards the bedroom.
"Guess 1644 nation did win after all"
