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laaando · 2 months ago

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Papaya Was Never the Problem

request: Y/N spends months crushing on Lando, only to be heartbroken when he moves on with someone else. Ready for something real, she realizes she had her eyes on the wrong McLaren driver all along—maybe it was Pato she should’ve seen from the start.

pato o’ward x reader

—----------------------------------

Your 16-year-old self would be disgusted at you if she knew that you’d be 23 and simping over a man who did not feel the same about you. But you couldn’t help it, everytime you thought it was over, Lando would pull your right back in.

It wasn’t really even his fault, you had both agreed to keep things casual, that you weren’t looking for anything more. But somewhere along the line, it became a little blurred. You tried to take a step back, but everytime you did he pulled you right back closer. Whether it was random flowers he sent to your door, making sure that everyone knew he took your opinion the most serious out of all the McLaren strategists, or coming over to watch a movie and not hooking up.

You felt crazy. You knew logically that you needed to cut it off but damn you just loved his attention. He could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

But you knew that wasn’t the case. If you weren’t there on his arm, someone else was. It was never anything serious – until it was.

It was a race day just like any other and you were buried in data, trying to figure out what you could do between now and qualifying to ensure Lando started P1 on Sunday. You had been at it for a while now, interrupted only by the clearing of a throat. Max Fewtrell stood next to your desk, and the look on his face had you instantly stopping. He looked…guilty?

“What’s up?” You asked, and he hesitated.

“I need to tell you something that is going to hurt you,” he started. “But you’ve become one of my closest friends so I can’t let this go on any longer.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, heartbeat raising.

“Lando is bringing his girlfriend ot the race tomorrow,” Max said and it felt like you had been doused with a cold bucket of water.

“Girlfriend?” You asked, the word foreign on your tongue.

"Yeah," Max winced. "I'm so sorry. I thought you knew. It's serious apparently. They've been together for a few months."

A few months. The words echoed in your mind as you tried to process what Max was telling you. All those nights, all those moments that felt like something more—they had meant nothing.

"Who is she?" The question left your lips before you could stop it.

"Some model he met at a party in Monaco." Max's hand came to rest on your shoulder. "You deserve better, Y/N. You always have."

You nodded numbly, tears threatening to spill. "Thanks for telling me."

After Max left, you sat motionless at your desk, staring at the data that suddenly seemed so meaningless. Months of your life wasted on someone who had been leading you on while building a relationship with someone else.

The next day, you kept your head down, focusing entirely on work. When you spotted Lando in the garage, you ducked out of the way, avoiding him for as long as you could. You were forced to finally see him during the pre-race briefing and you doing everything in your power to not look at him did not go unnoticed.

“Y/n,” Lando called as everyone walked out. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, gaining the courage to look him on the eye. You knew he knew what was happening the second his eyes met yours.

“I-I I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I should have told you, but we always said it was casual between us right?”

“Why didn’t you just say something?” You asked, your sadness melting into anger. “Like what’s fucking wrong with you Lando?”

He flinched at your tone, the guilt written all over his face. “I know. I just wanted both of you as long as I could have it.”

“And then you decided that you wanted her more,” you said for him, your heart ripping in half. “Quite frankly I never want to see you again.”

Hurt flashed across his face but you didn’t give him a chance to respond, moving past him and out the door.

The race went horribly. Lando dropped from P2 to P10 and it was just a disaster all around. You knew it was your last race, you’d made the decision last night, before even talking to Lando. There were plenty of things you could do with an engineering degree so you weren’t worried. You could go anywhere you wanted. Away from all of this.

Zak was in a conference room when you found him and you shut the door behind you as you walked in. He looked up at you in surprise, the doom and gloom from the race on his face.

“Hey y/n, tough day today,” he said and you nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m going to be leaving McLaren,” you told him, trying to not let your voice waver. This was your first job and you loved the people here. Loved the work, the environment, everything. But you couldn’t stay.

“What?” Zak veered back, shocked. “After one bad race?”

“It’s more than one bad race,” you said quietly and in that moment he knew. He’d seen the two of you together, and wasn’t the only McLaren employee that was confused by another girl’s presence today.

“What are you going to do?” He asked and you shrugged.

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted and he shook his head.

“Y/n, you are one of the most talented young strategists we’ve come across,” he told you. “I can’t let you leave.”

“I can’t stay Zak,” you said, exasperated. He thought for a moment before lighting up.

“IndyCar,” he said and your eyebrows furrowed. “If you’re okay to move, let me put you on one of our IndyCar teams, probably Patos.”

You hesitated. You were open to moving somewhere new and across an ocean was pretty far away from Lando. Plus you’d get to stay in racing, which was definitely ideal.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you said and Zak grinned.

“It’s settled then.”

—-----------------------------------------

“Welcome to Indianapolis!” Your new coworker, Hannah beamed at you from outside of the Arrow-McLaren office in downtown Indy.

“Thank you,” you said politely.

“I know we don’t go to as many glamorous places as you’re used to but Indy is pretty historic for racing,” she said.

“Yeah, I actually grew up in Kansas City,” you told her and her eyes widened it surprise. “So I’m familiar with all of this, even if it’s been a while. “

“Sorry! They never tell me anything,” she grumbled.

“No worries,” you told her sweetly. She led you through the lobby and to the upstairs floor, where different mechanics were working. She was around your age so you felt comfortable chatting with her, happy to have someone to be friends with in a new place.

“Okay Tony is waiting for you in his office up there,” she told you and you thanked her before stepping into the room.

“Ahh, y/n, pleasure to meet you,” Tony said, standing up to shake your hand. “Zak sings your praises all the time so I’m happy we got to steal you away.”

“I’m happy to be here,” you said, sitting down across from him.

“I’m going to put you on Pato’s team - he’s our best driver here and I think you guys will get along,” he said and you nodded. “Ah here he is, Pato! Come in here for a sec.”

You turned as the door opened, and in walked a man you'd seen on TV but never in person. Pato O'Ward had a vibrant energy to him, his smile genuine as he entered the room. His eyes landed on you, and for a moment, you felt a flutter of something you couldn't quite place.

"Welcome to the team," he said, extending his hand. His accent was thick but endearing. "Tony has been talking about you all week."

"Has he?" You shook his hand, noticing the calluses that came from gripping a steering wheel for hours on end.

"All good things," Tony assured you. "Pato, Y/N is coming to us from the F1 team. She's one of their top strategists."

"Was," you corrected with a small smile. "I'm all IndyCar now."

"Well, their loss is our gain," Pato said, his gaze not leaving yours. You smiled shyly before turning back to Tom.

“Well, let’s get started.”

—------------------------------------

IndyCar was a whole new puzzle to crack, but you were loving the challenge. The other strategists had welcomed you with open arms, eager to hear your ideas for the car as you headed into a race weekend.

Pato was fast, but Alex Palou was faster and it was a problem you were drowning trying to figure it out. It was late, the warm air of Riverside blowing gently through your hair as you stepped outside, eager to take a break. No one else was at the track, just you and a bunch of numbers, just like you preferred it.

Switching to IndyCar had been a good move. Max had called you a couple of times to check in and you were honest when you told him: you were happy here. Much happier than you were back there. You’d become fast friends with Hannah, and she’d introduced you to her friends, quickly accepting you into the group.

Working with Pato was a breeze. He was focused and driven but also fun and lighthearted. You ignored the way you caught him looking at you every once in a while. You’d seen that look before, just on a different man in a papaya suit.

“What are you still doing here?”

Speak of the devil, you see Pato coming up to you, a boyish smile on his face. You smile back, appreciating the way the track lights hit his face.

“Trying to get you a win,” you said and he laughed.

“I thought I was supposed to be doing that,” he replied and you shook your head amused, turning back to stare out at the track.

"No, I think it's a team effort," you replied, leaning against the railing. "I'm just used to working late. It's a hard habit to break."

"You don't have to do that here," Pato said, moving to stand beside you. His shoulder brushed against yours, and you tried to ignore the warmth that spread through you at the contact.

"I want to," you admitted. "I want to prove that I belong here."

"You already have," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Everyone can see how talented you are."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. There was something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," you said softly. "That means a lot."

A comfortable silence fell between you as you both gazed out at the empty track. The distant sound of cicadas filled the air and you were too lost in your own thoughts to see the way Pato was looking at you.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was supposed to meet you last year in Brazil but I was told to stay away.”

“By who?” You asked, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you turned to look at him. You sighed as you saw his face, already knowing the answer. “Lando.”

“Mhm,” Pato answered. “Is that why you came here?”

“Yes,” you said honestly. “I needed a fresh start.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said and you looked at him once again, his eyes on yours. “He didn’t deserve you.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to him. "You don't even know me," you said softly, but there was no bite to your words.

"I know enough," Pato replied, his voice gentle. "I know you work harder than anyone else on the team. I know you care about the success of everyone around you, not just yourself. And I know that anyone who couldn't see what they had with you is an idiot."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You're just saying that because I'm trying to get you a win."

"No," he said, turning to face you fully now. "I'm saying it because it's true."

The intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. For months, you'd been so focused on getting over Lando, on proving yourself in this new environment, that you hadn't allowed yourself any opportunity to open your heart.

“I can’t start something with you Pato,” you said sadly. “No matter how much I want to. I can’t go through it again.”

“I don’t think you understand that it would be completely different,” he said but you didn’t say anything, just looked down at your hands. “Okay, if I have to spend the rest of the season proving that to you then I will.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------

It felt like you were back in F1, watching Max lurking like a shark in the background, quickly gaining on whoever was in front of him like a shark who had seen it’s prey. Except this time the shark was Alex Palou and Pato was unfortunately the prey. Pato had led almost the whole race but Alex did what he did best: win.

The garage was dejected, despite taking second and third and you fully expected the silent treatment from the drivers. Lando always shut down after races, always so in his head that there was no point in talking to him. Pato was quiet during the debrief but you were used to it so it didn’t bother you.

Picking up your stuff, you headed out the door. Pato was waiting for you outside and you looked at him in surprise. You would have expected him to get back to the hotel as soon as possible.

“Do you have plans?” He asked and you shook your head. He was still in his fireproofs, sweat and champagne stained on his face. “Get something to eat with me and talk about the race?”

“We just had a chance to talk about it, but you didn’t say much,” you countered and he rolled his eyes.

“I just want to talk to you right now, okay? I’ll talk to the rest of the team when we’re back in Indy,” he said.

You hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. This wasn't what you expected after a race that didn't go his way. But there was something in his eyes—an earnestness that made it impossible to say no.

"Okay," you agreed. "But you should probably change first."

He grinned, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Give me ten minutes."

True to his word, Pato emerged from the motorhome shortly after, dressed in jeans and a simple black t-shirt that hugged his frame. You tried not to stare.

"There's a little place around the corner that's pretty good," he said, leading you away from the track. "I found it last year."

The restaurant was small and unassuming, tucked away from the main streets where most of the racing crowd would go. The hostess greeted Pato by name, clearly recognizing the driver and led you to a table in the back.

"So," you said, taking a sip of your wine. "Second place isn't bad."

"It's not first," he replied, but there wasn't any bitterness in his tone. "Palou is just... consistently good. But we're getting closer."

“We have the advantage on some of the upcoming tracks though – you’ve performed better than he has in the past.”

Pato’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a smirk growing on his face. “Watching my old races huh?”

You rolled your eyes but a smile was evident on your face. “Doing my job.”

The rest of dinner was spent going through the race almost lap by lap until you really just had nothing left to say. Pato paid the tab and held out his hand to you almost challenging as he got up. You rolled your eyes but took it, letting him lead you out of the restaurant.

“Tired?” He asked, once you were outside and you nodded. “Okay let’s get you home cariño.”

You blushed at the term of endearment and he grinned widely before tugging you along to the car. The ride back to the hotel was short and he walked you back up to your room, gently pressing his lips against your cheek before saying goodbye.

Remember what happened with Lando

You chanted this to yourself as you got into your room but it was becoming hard. Pato seemed to be everything Lando was not but you had built up a lot of walls around your heart. You still didn’t know what you wanted, not sure if you could handle another situationship during a season just hoping that it could be something more in the offseason.

—---------------------------------------------------------

There was a few weeks in between races so you packed your bags to head off to a nice vacation during your free time. Hannah had begged you to join her and her friends so you found yourself on the sunny beaches of Punta Mita, baking in the Mexican sun. By day three of the vacation your skin had a nice glow to it and you decided you never wanted to go home.

You were sitting on loungers outside with your friends watching the sunset, a margarita in your hands when you saw a familiar face sitting at another lounge area, his eyes trained on you. Your head snapped towards Hannah who looked over your shoulder then smirked.

“Did you know he was going to be here?” You asked.

“I swear I didn’t, but I’m definitely not complaining,” she said with a smirk and you groaned. Soon enough, Pato was walking over with his friends, asking if they could join you all. The seat you were sitting on was definitely big enough for two so you begrudgingly scooted over as Pato plopped down next to you. His arm rested behind you on the back of the lounger and he gave you a small smile.

“Hola hermosa,” he said cheekily and you couldn’t help but smile at his antics.

“Are you stalking me Pato O’Ward?” You said and he let his head dip backwards, laughing.

“Oof, using my full name, does that mean I’m in trouble?” He asked.

“Maybe,” you teased.

“I’d love to see what the punishment is,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your chest. Your face flamed which only made his smirk deepen. He pulled you in closer to his side and you panicked, feeling yours and his friend’s knowing eyes.

“Pato, everyone can see us,” you whispered.

“Kind of the point cariño,” he replied, letting his hand fall to rest on your upper arm, tracing the skin with his finger. You started to say something else but he jumped into a conversation with his friend next to him.

You couldn't help but feel conflicted as you sat nestled against Pato's side, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. The sun was setting over the ocean, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and pinks, and despite your internal protests, this felt... right.

After a couple more rounds of drinks, the group decided to head to a nearby restaurant for dinner. Pato's hand found the small of your back as you walked, guiding you through the crowded beachfront. The gesture was small, but intentional. Public. A statement.

"You're not being very subtle," you murmured as you reached the restaurant.

"I'm not trying to be," he replied, his eyes meeting yours. "I told you I would prove that I'm different."

At dinner, Pato insisted on sitting next to you, his leg occasionally brushing against yours under the table. The conversation flowed easily, most of his friends having been around a lot of his racing so they could keep up with you and Hannah. When it died down, most of the group decided to turn in for the night but you weren’t ready to retire just yet.

“Walk with me?” You asked Pato and he nodded, slipping his hand into yours as you headed down the shoreline. Being with Pato was easy. You were never stressed, never waiting for the second ball to drop.

He walked you back to the resort, stopping before the staircase that led up to your floor. You turend to him in confusion but were cut off by his lips against yours. They moved slowly and you found yourself moving against him, bringing your hand up to cup his face. His rested on your waist, holding you close to him.

You pulled away after a bit, biting your lip as you stared at him.

“What are you thinking cariño?” He asked.

You hesitated, heart hammering in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the warmth of the kiss still lingering on your lips, or the way his voice sounded like honey under the moonlight, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I like you,” you admitted, eyes dropping to the sand. “But I’m not sure I want to do this again, just be someone there for your convenience not able to commit during the season. I’ve already done that before.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, one you almost regretted the second you said it. But Pato didn't say anything right away. His expression shifted, the playfulness draining from his face, replaced by something sharper—something that almost looked like hurt.

“Wow,” he finally said, his voice low. “You really think that little of me?”

Your eyes widened, head snapping up. “Pato, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You meant it. And maybe that’s on me—maybe I was too forward, maybe I made this all feel too easy. But I’m not him, Y/N.”

He took a step back, still looking at you like you’d just slapped him.

“I’ve never once treated you like an option. I never played games. I’ve shown up, I’ve been honest, and I’ve waited—for you to see me, to trust me. And I would’ve kept waiting if you needed more time.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, and it cut you to your core.

“I’m not asking you to be mine right now,” he added. “I’m not asking you to give me anything you’re not ready for. But I am asking you to stop treating me like a placeholder for your past.”

Your throat tightened, your own eyes stinging with tears you didn’t expect.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Pato nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll wait for you as long as you need, Y/N. But only if you’re willing to believe I’m worth waiting for too.”

And then he turned, starting to walk back toward the resort, leaving you with your bare feet in the sand and your heart unraveling in your hands.

—----------------------------------

You didn’t hear from Pato for the rest of the break and you tried to not think about the silence. It was hard to not compare him to Lando but it felt like you were right back in it. Big fight, usually a misunderstanding, and then he wouldn’t look at you and you’d pretend it didn’t hurt.

That’s why you were dreading the return to the office, you knew he was going to be there today and you weren’t ready for the silent treatment in person. Hannah gave you a sympathetic look when she saw you, having heard everything that happened when you both travelled home. You spent the first half of the day at your computer, analyzing some data before deciding to get up to grab some coffee.

Rounding the corner you ran straight into someone, your sorrys were cut off by two arms wrapping around you, pulling you into their chest.

“Hola hermosa,” Pato whispered into your ear and you relaxed into him, letting your guard down. You couldn’t help the tears starting to gather in your eyes as he pulled away. “Oh cariño, what’s wrong?”

You tried blinking away the tears, but one fell and was quickly swiped away by his fingers.

"I thought you were going to be mad at me," you admitted, voice shaky. "I thought you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore."

Pato's face softened, understanding replacing his initial concern. "Is that what he would have done? Gone silent on you?"

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

"Look at me," Pato said gently, tilting your chin up. "I meant what I said on the beach. I'm not him. I was hurt, yes. I needed space to think, but I wasn't going to throw away what we have because of one fight."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "For comparing you to him. For not trusting that you're different."

"I know," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "And I'm sorry I walked away. I should have stayed, talked it through."

The admittance that he could have done something differently didn’t go unnoticed by you and you started to say something else when someone called out your name.

“Y/n!”

You turned around to see Zak Brown coming down the hallway and your face broke out into a massive smile.

“Zak,” you greeted and he pulled you into a bear hug, lifting you off your feet.

“Oh how I’ve missed you,” your old boss said. “I hope you’ve been keeping up with the F1 races, I need your advice.”

“Of course you do,” you teased. Zak reached out to shake Pato’s hand before Pato excused himself to head to lunch.

You walked with Zak to the conference room, chatting about the previous F1 races and what he was thinking.

“I saw you and Pato,” he said as you reached the doors and you froze before deflating.

“Just hopping from one driver to the next aren’t I?” You asked quietly. “I know what you’re going to say.”

Zak looked at you carefully, “Lando didn’t deserve you, everyone knew that. But Pato’s different. He looks at you like you’re his whole world so what I was going to say is that I’m happy for you.”

You looked up at him in shock. "You think so?" you asked, a note of vulnerability in your voice that you rarely let anyone hear.

"Y/N, I've known Pato for years now," Zak said, leaning against the doorframe. "That man has always been passionate about racing, about winning. But I've never seen him look at anything the way he looks at you."

You felt warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Besides," Zak continued with a knowing smile, "I didn't transfer you here just because you needed to get away from Lando. I sent you here because I thought you'd be brilliant with this team. And maybe, just maybe, I thought you and Pato might hit it off."

"You were playing matchmaker?" You laughed incredulously.

"Call it an executive decision," he winked. "Now, about these race strategies..."

The meeting with Zak flew by, and by the time you emerged from the conference room, it was late afternoon. You checked your phone to find a text from Pato.

Dinner tonight? My place. I'll cook.

After stopping by your own place to change into something comfier, you headed to Pato’s. He smiled as he opened the door when you knocked, stepping aside to let you in.

“It smells amazing,” you commented. You knew you were no longer going to enjoy your family’s white people taco nights after just one glance at what was cooking in the kitchen.

Pato grinned, stepping back over to the stove to stir something in a pan. “It’s my mom’s recipe,” he said. “I figured if I was going to earn your forgiveness, I should start with food.”

You laughed softly, walking toward the kitchen island. “You already have my forgiveness,” you said, watching the way he moved so confidently around the kitchen, barefoot and in a soft black t-shirt. “But if you want to impress me, this is definitely the right way to do it.”

“Good to know,” he said with a wink. “Because I plan to keep trying.”

Dinner was relaxed, the two of you sitting across from each other at his kitchen table, a bottle of wine between you. He kept your cheeks warm with compliments and your stomach sore from laughing. It was comfortable—easy in a way that didn’t scare you anymore.

After the dishes were done (you washed, he dried), Pato grabbed a blanket and led you out to the small balcony that overlooked downtown Indy. The sun had long set, but the glow of the city lights made everything feel soft and quiet.

You curled your legs beneath you as you settled onto the outdoor couch, Pato sitting next to you and draping the blanket over both your laps.

“It’s kind of wild,” you said after a few minutes, your voice low. “That I ended up here. That it took me going through all of that mess just to realize the right person was someone I hadn’t even met yet.”

Pato turned to look at you, his profile lit up by the warm patio light. “I hate that he made you feel like you were hard to love,” he said quietly. “Because being with you? It feels like the easiest thing in the world.”

You swallowed, heart thudding in your chest as you met his gaze. “I was so scared of getting it wrong again.”

“You didn’t,” he said, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You just hadn’t found the right person to get it right with.”

A beat passed between you before you leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “Are we really doing this?” you whispered.

Pato smiled, the kind that reached his eyes. “We’ve been doing this for a while now, haven’t we?”

You kissed him again, slower this time—deeper. It didn’t feel like a maybe or a placeholder or a temporary distraction. It felt like a beginning. When you finally pulled away, Pato rested his hand against your cheek.

“So,” he said, eyes dancing, “do I get to call you mine now?”

You couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across your face. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours again. “Because I’ve been yours since the day you walked into that office.”

And under the stars, wrapped in his arms, you finally believed it.

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