summary: after losing the 2025 WDC to his teammate/best friend, oscar piastri is absolutely crushed and seeks comfort from the person inflicting his hurt.
oscar piastri x lando norris (landoscar)
warnings: complete angst but a happy ending
notes from me: my first longer fic! also now posting on wattpad! link here ! comment any thoughts :)
playlist link here (listed on wattpad!)
pictures are from pintrest!
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What the absolute fuck am I doing? was the first thing that crossed Oscar Piastri’s mind as he felt the tears sneakily begin to well up in his eyes.
Oscar was in the midst of a large crowd of Mclaren engineers and other staff. Despite the chaos around him, he felt numb to his bones. Like he had been dunked in an ice tub. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and it rang out like an echo, almost completely drowning out the energetic cheers of those around him. Keyword: almost. The energy around him was utterly electric with excitement and entirely too overstimulating.
He immediately wiped any onset of crying away, desperately attempting to focus on anything but his emotions. But it was all he could do but watch the camera zoom in on an ecstatic and champagne-soaked Lando. Lucky, talented, beautiful Lando. Oscar felt like his stomach was trying to tear itself apart. He was absolutely sick with self disappointment and guilt for not being happier for Lando.
Not only was Oscar sad, he was angry. Enraged, really.
He felt like a rookie all over again.
The Aussie was so incredibly mad that what he worked so hard for this year was third. He was just beginning to believe in himself— that he, Oscar Jack Piastri, could be the best driver in Formula 1.
That entire fantasy was just chewed up, spit out, and stepped on by the dutch legend Max Verstappen and (his?) Lando Norris.
It was really fucking unclear to Oscar what he and Lando were, but he didn’t give a single shit. All Oscar knew was that he was about to have a breakdown and the only person he wanted was Lando. However, Oscar also knew that Lando was coming off the biggest high of his career. The thought made Oscar’s stomach lurch and he gagged. In a panic, he slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, shoulders tense. Holy shit.
This was a horrible time to throw up— not that Oscar wanted to at all. He was entirely terrified of throwing up and even more terrified of having to throw up without Lando’s comfort and support. Every time Oscar was sick, Lando always came over and waited it out with him. But this time, Lando wasn’t with him. Lando was still jumping around on that stupid podium, holding his golden trophy.
That could have been yours, Oscar’s mind supplied helpfully.
He huffed loudly and tugged his hands through his hair.
The atmosphere around Oscar was sickeningly overwhelming. Any voices were drowned out by the celebratory screams and exclamations of all of the Mclaren staff. There were people everywhere and every time someone brushed past Oscar, he flinched. The tears in his eyes began to cloud his vision. He swallowed an oncoming sob.
The room around him was a sea of papaya orange, but the one man in orange he needed was no where in sight.
Oscar’s control was slipping out of his grasp. The panic in his chest was blooming like a peony in the peak of spring and his breath was becoming more shallow by the intake.
He had to gain some leverage over the situation before it became a nightmare for himself… and the PR team.
So, Oscar did the only reasonable thing in his mind.
He found the closest place to a hiding spot— the drivers room.
As soon as he reached the room, he slammed the door behind him and locked it. Click. The last thing Oscar needed was a nosy staff member walking in on a possible Piastri Meltdown. The security of the location washed over Oscar like a cool breeze on a summer day. His legs began to feel like Jello. He shakily lowered himself to the ground, back against the nearest wall. The floor was cold and hard, but steady. Exactly what Oscar needed to feel. His breath became labored and a surge of dread came over him as he realized that he had left his inhaler in the compartment of his car.
Oscar forced himself to take a deep breath, but failed. The air didn’t fully fill his lungs. He pulled his knees close to his chest and rubbed his hands over his face. With no calming results, he pressed a hand over his heart as if it would slow his spiking its rate. The room seemed to be getting smaller by the minute, as was Oscar. In his mind, anyway. He felt everything shrinking: his control over whatever this was, his will to get through it, and the connection to the world around him. He felt like a fly on a wall, simply observing the scenario while simultaneously being held prisoner in his own body.
Where the hell was Lando?
A broken sob escaped from Oscar’s mouth paired with three hot, burning tears that slid down his flushed cheeks. After that, the tears kept flowing uselessly and Oscar was unable to stop them. He pressed his forehead to his knees and his fingernails into his palms, desperately attempting to ground himself with the pressure.
Every second passing felt like an hour to Oscar. Loud sobs were the only sound in the room and he was utterly helpless to halting them.
Where the fuck was Lando?
Oscar frantically wiped at his tears, a futile action. He rummaged around his pockets in search of his phone, but came out empty handed. Fuck. Oscar slammed a fist onto the floor in frustration. Immediate regret and sobs followed as pain flared in his hand.
It was all Oscar could do but wait for Lando. No matter where they were, Lando always found Oscar when it mattered.
In attempt to distract himself, Oscar’s mind wandered to such circumstances.
He thought of autumn, in October, in Singapore, when he had decided to explore the city area close to the hotel, solo. A crucial mistake. Oscar had the sense of direction of a compass next to magnet.
Easily distracted by bright lights and big signs, Oscar had meandered down the sidewalks. It wasn’t often that he got a moment to himself. He was either with the team, his family, or Lando. While it was nice to be alone, he did find himself wishing that Lando was with him.
A half hour adventure soon turned into an hour, then two, and then Oscar found himself in the center of the city, absolutely lost.
Turning around himself in a circle, Oscar attempted to go back the way he came. That was unsuccessful. So, in crisis mode, Oscar pulled out his device and called the first contact on his favorites list— Lando.
Lando picked up on the second ring with a pleasant, “Hey, mate. What’s up? Where are you?”
His lovely voice was music to Oscar’s ears. The familiarity of it soothed the nerves in Oscar’s chest.
“Hey, Lando,” Oscar responded, finding himself trying to suppress the small smile spreading across his face, “I’m kind of… lost.”
Oscar swore he heard Lando chuckle before he coughed in attempt to cover it.
“What are you talking about, Oscar?” Lando asked, voice laced with confusion.
Right. Oscar hadn’t told Lando he was going out.
“Well I wanted to check out the city for a little… and that little turned into a while. I don’t really know where I am right now.” He confessed to his teammate.
“Send me your location.” Lando demanded, immediately.
Oscar gladly complied. He was elated that help was on the way, but questioned the swarm of butterflies fluttering in this stomach.
“Stay on the phone until I get there.” Lando ordered.
“And don’t move.” He added. It was clear that Oscar’s safe return was Lando’s priority.
“Okay.” Oscar agreed, taking a seat on the nearest bench.
Within 20 minutes, Lando was jogging up to Oscar, panting, forehead shiny with sweat.
Oscar had never been more attracted to someone in his life. Lando, standing in front of him, gasping for air, mouth agape, had run all throughout the city just to get Oscar. He was incredibly touched and fought of the strange urge to kiss him. The thought took him aback… he had never let himself think about Lando that way before. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.
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As Lando was cruelly being showered by cheap alcohol and aggressively enthusiastic back pats, his eyes searched the endless crowd of people for Oscar. This had to be the best moment in Lando’s life, but it wasn’t complete without Oscar by his side. Oscar made every moment an adventure and every adventure worthwhile. He was the missing piece of Lando’s unfinished puzzle.
Where the hell was Oscar?
The fact that Oscar was not stuck to his side worried Lando. During any significant event the two shared, Oscar was practically velcroed to Lando. Lando’s not-so-unfortunate curse of having an introverted best friend. Oscar always preferred the quiet, safe, predictable situations. The ones he could control. But when the pair was in a celebratory environment, Oscar did enjoy himself… as long as he was with Lando. Lando never let him drift too far away or get too drunk and Oscar repaid the favor by making Lando happy.
Staff and drivers alike congratulated Lando on the title as he passed them. As he stopped for quick chats, he asked if any of them had seen Oscar. Puzzled looks came over every face and each regrettably replied that they did not know. Each time, Lando sighed, returned a wry smile, and continued the search for his… friend- no… he meant more than that to Lando. His boy… definitely not. His teammate. Oscar. His, but not his, Oscar.
Lando quickly reflected on how Oscar would be feeling at the moment. Maybe it would help him figure out where the man was. Oscar surely was happy for Lando, but then why wasn’t he with him then? It was completely abnormal for Oscar to just disappear. Lando knew Oscar like the back of his hand and therefore began the train of thought that Oscar was totally disappointed in himself for not placing higher, for not winning. For losing to him. Fuck.
Where the fuck was Oscar?
Lando thought harder. When Oscar was disappointed in himself, it rooted deep and tears almost always accompanied the feeling. Oscar hated, absolutely hated, crying in front of anyone… but Lando. As Oscar would become increasingly upset, he would become overstimulated. The noise and amount of people would become way too much for Oscar to deal with. He would seek out a quiet place to calm down. But where could there be a quiet place in this mass of celebration? Lando racked his brain for ideas, trying to map out the paddock in his mind. Zak’s office, perhaps? No, Oscar wouldn’t seek out Zak if he was upset. Zak was a great guy, but he was simply the type of guy to give you a squeeze on the shoulder and tell you to keep your head up. That was not the kind of comfort that helped Oscar when he was upset. Oscar needed a long hug and gentle reassurance. No matter how tough Oscar tried to portray himself, Lando knew that deep down, Oscar was soft. He was soft in the way he cried over dogs dying in movies and sad news stories on the internet. He was also soft in the way he playfully poked Lando’s sides, watched Cars 2 when he was sick, laughed at Lando’s dad jokes even when they weren’t remotely funny, and fell asleep with his head in Lando’s lap during long days at headquarters. He was the kind of soft that Lando needed to get through the hard days.
As the Brit wandered aimlessly through the crowd in search of Oscar, he ran smack into a rock. Well, that rock’s name was Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc. Lando had collided with the Ferrari driver’s chest. “Oof.” said Charles, most intelligently, stumbling back.
“Sorry, mate.” Lando replied, mirroring Charles’s stumble but already beginning to push past him.
“Wait, Lando!” Charles called after him.
Lando spun around, internally dreading another conversation, but his frustration fizzled out when he saw the concerned expression dressed on Charles’s sharp features.
“Are you alright?” Charles asked tentatively, sensing the tense aura around Lando. Then, scanning the crowd added, “Where is Oscar?”
Finally, Lando thought, I’m not the only one to notice Oscar is missing.
“I have no idea. I’m looking for him right now.” Lando responded, sighing.
Charles frowned. Lando was always with Oscar, and if he wasn’t, he knew Oscar’s whereabouts. The two of them came as a set and everyone inhabiting the grid knew it.
“I believe I saw him walk down that hallway earlier.” Charles offered helpfully, pointing over Lando’s shoulder. Lando’s gaze followed his finger immediately. The drivers room was in that direction. Maybe there?
“How long ago?” Lando asked hurriedly.
“Eugh…” Charles contemplated, “Twenty to thirty minutes ago I would say.”
Lando clapped the Monegasque the shoulder, muttered a thanks that was definitely drowned out by the crowd, and borderline ran in the direction given by Charles.
“Congratulations, by the way!” Charles shouted after Lando.
Lando raised a hand in acknowledgment, but didn’t slow down. He was a determined man on a mission.
His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest as he knocked on the closed door of the drivers room.
He tried the handle… locked?
Clearly Oscar was in here. Who else would be in there with the door locked? There was way too much security for someone who wasn’t supposed to be in there to enter.
“Osc?” Lando called gently, repeating his tap on the door. No response. Fuck.
Oscar never, ever locked the door. He had this silly little fear that the lock would break and he would get stuck in the room. Oscar only locked the door on bad days and even then, the door was always open for Lando.
Lando rapped harder. “Oscar? It’s Lando. Open the door.”
Why the fuck was Oscar not opening the door?
Lando was becoming more anxious with each passing second. He called again, “Oscar, please open the door.” He could hear the desperation building in his voice, but it was at the bottom of his priorities. Lando forgot about the title. All he wanted was to make sure Oscar was okay.
The outcome of Lando’s statement was identical to the two previous ones. Lando turned on his heel and walked further down the hall. Two doors down was Zak’s office. The door was cracked open. Lando pushed the remainder. The room was uninhabited, thank god, so he crossed the threshold to Zak’s desk. He rummaged through the drawers until he came across the ring of keys he was looking for. Lando returned to the drivers room, keys jangling in the pocket of his team kit as he jogged.
As he reached the door for the second time, he rotated through the ring of keys until he came across the one labeled “D” for drivers room.
He fumbled it around the lock for moment, hand shaking with nerves, until he successfully placed the key in the hole and twisted. Lando frantically pressed the door open. As his eyes landed on Oscar, he knew the image would be burned into his memory for a long time.
Oscar looked absolutely wrecked. Lando had never seen him like this before and knew immediately that he never wanted to see it again. Oscar was propped up against the left wall, knees pulled close to his chest, forehead pressed to his knees, hands gripping his sweat-dampened hair. His shoulders shook with every intake of air. Little sobs slipped out from his open mouth. Lando’s heart absolutely shattered and fell into his stomach. The curious look on his face immediately turned into one of dread. Something was seriously, incredibly wrong.
“Osc?” Lando called again, though softer this time as he stepped into the room and inched the door shut behind him. The lock clicked and echoed. Oscar was beyond words. He didn’t even look up at the sound of Lando’s voice. He just shook his head and continued crying, like it was all he was capable of in the moment. Shit.
Lando ever so softly crept towards Oscar. When he reached him, he lowered himself to the ground, kneeling in front of him. Lando extended a gentle hand to rest on Oscar’s shoulder, sighing knowingly. He was grounding himself as much as he was attempting to soothe Oscar. “Oscar.” Lando whispered, voice rough from the shouting earlier. Oscar shook his head again. Nausea begin to rise in Lando’s throat.
“What’s wrong?” Lando asked, desperate to get some sort of answer out of his teammate. “Are you hurt? Did something happen during the race?”
Oscar shook his head again, but this time, it was a response, not just a defensive reflex. The pressure in Lando’s chest loosened an inch. Not fully, but enough that Lando stopped holding his breath like he was underwater. At least Oscar wasn’t injured. But, the boy was still hurting, mentally. And Lando knew he was the cause of it. He had never felt shittier in his life, which was a horrible shift from the dream-come-true joy.
“Come here.” Lando coaxed, arms open for Oscar, who pathetically raised his head, showing Lando his face for the first time. Lando’s heart panged, like intense heartburn, from seeing Oscar like this. Oscar’s eyes were red and welled up with tears. His cheeks were wet, shiny, and pink. He looked broken. And Lando hated himself knowing that he was the one who had somewhat-inadvertently broken him.
As much as Lando kicked himself for thinking then, Oscar looked gorgeous, angelic. He always did, rain or shine, smile or tears.
“Let me hold you, bunny,” Lando insisted, arms still open. A flash of something crossed over Oscar’s eyes. Lando knew it was the nickname. He always used it to tease Oscar, who blushed shyly every time. The familiarity in it seemed to soothe Oscar slightly.
Oscar tentatively uncurled from his balled up position, eyeing up Lando as if to decide if he was safe.
Eventually, Oscar deemed Lando sound and fell forward into his embrace. Lando instantly caught him and adjusted himself so his back was to the wall. He pulled Oscar into his lap, one arm around his back and the latter tenderly cupping the back of the Aussie’s neck. “Shh, it’s alright, Osc.” Lando cooed quietly as Oscar began to wholly sob into his teammate’s chest. Lando tightened his hold on his boy as Oscar squirmed in his hold, searching for a comfortable, secure position. He was shaking like a leaf. Cold fear washed over Lando. He had to take control of the situation.
“I know you’re upset, bunny, but I really need you to breathe.” Lando whispered to Oscar, beginning to rock him back and forth gently, urgently trying to soothe him.
Lando’s request was not fulfilled and Oscar continued to struggle to inhale and exhale. “Lando.” Oscar sobbed into against his chest. Lando kept on shushing and cooing softly, praying to whoever was above that it would calm Oscar.
“I know, Oscar. I know.” Lando replied. Usually Oscar hated when people tried to tell him that they knew how he felt. No one knew exactly how he felt and as someone who felt everything deeply, it really agitated him when the phrase was said. Yet, with Lando, Oscar knew that he was understood. When Lando said, “I know”, he wasn’t saying he knew precisely how Oscar was feeling, he was saying that he recognized that Oscar was feeling the emotions and wanted to offer help. Out of all of the wonderful things of Lando, his patient and empathetic demeanor was at the top of Oscar’s extensive list.
“I can’t breathe.” Oscar nearly wailed, breath unable to enter his overworked lungs. Against his chest, Lando could feel the way Oscar’s breath hitched dreadfully with every inhale and shook with every exhale.
“Okay, Osc, okay. You’re okay.” Lando spoke externally. Fuck, said Lando internally.
“Do you have your inhaler?” He asked his teammate, who was still curled up like a cat in his lap and crying steadily. Oscar didn’t have a lung disease, but during a breakdown such as this one, he would begin to have difficulty breathing. He couldn’t respond; he was past being able to communicate verbally. His expression was crushed, but also disassociated and vague… like he was lost. If possible, Lando’s heart broke again into a million pieces. It felt like someone had reached down his throat, pulled out his heart, thrown it in a blender, and forced him to swallow it all. He was sick to his stomach. Lando couldn’t help wishing he could escape the situation. Not because he was uncomfortable with Oscar crying, but because it physically hurt him to see Oscar so upset. He wanted to erase it all, even if it meant not winning that fucking title that had started all of this.
Finally registering Lando’s question, a faint realization of fuck, no, I don’t have my inhaler washed over Oscar.
Oscar began to sob harder, absolutely terrified at the epiphany of the lack of the tool.
“Shh, Oscar, it’ll be okay,” Lando soothed not-so-soothingly, “I can find one somewhere around here.” Oscar shook his head no. It would be way too embarrassing for Lando to walk around, begging for an inhaler. People would connect the dots… what if the press found out? The last thing Oscar needed was a reputation as a cry baby. Plus, Oscar didn’t want Lando to leave and there was no way in hell Oscar himself was leaving the room, Lando’s warm embrace. Lando’s strong arms wrapped around him were Oscar’s anchor in the storm.
“Tell me what you need, Osc. Let me help.” Lando insisted, trying to fix whatever Oscar was going through. There was another thing about Lando- he was a fixer. If Oscar was hungry, Lando brought Oscar food. If Oscar was tired, Lando took them back to the apartment or hotel room. And most importantly, if Oscar was any variation of upset, Lando had to find a solution. No matter the issue, if it concerned Oscar, Lando was compelled to make the issue no longer. It physically tore Lando apart to see Oscar distressed. Like two hands had plunged deep into his chest and were strangling his heart.
“I’m gonna be sick…” Oscar groaned miserably, tears still rolling down his face.
“Shh, it’s okay, Oscar. You’re not gonna.” Lando whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Oscar’s head. If he wasn’t so caught up in his grief, Oscar would’ve blushed at the new action. Lando was very aware of what he had done and had not one ounce of regret. All he was focused on was calming Oscar down. He knew that Oscar hated throwing up and didn’t want to let things get any worse, if that was possible.
The knot in Oscar’s stomach curled tighter as his mind wandered further. He felt insanely guilty for crying. He should be happy for Lando, jumping up and down with him on the podium while showering him with champagne. That title was the greatest accomplishment of Lando’s career and maybe his life. He should’ve been ecstatic for his closest friend, teammate, whatever they were. It didn’t matter to Oscar what they were as long he had Lando close to him. He was too afraid to have a conversation on the subject, fearing Lando would pull away and Oscar would be left without whatever they had right now. Because something with Lando was always better than nothing.
Oscar loved the late nights in his hotel when Lando would come over and they would order room service. He loved the way the silence wasn’t ever awkward. Even when the room sounded empty, it was full. Full of comfort and warmth and the feeling of having your favorite person lying next to you. The only part of those nights Oscar hated was when Lando would leave. Every time, Lando would embrace him, hold him securely, and Oscar would bury his nose in Lando’s shoulder. Lando would smile, a real genuine smile he reserved for Oscar, and leave. The void Lando left behind was Oscar’s least favorite part of the night, but always inevitable. There was no way he could ask Lando to sleep over, next to him, in bed… right?
All Oscar wanted was a rewind button. He would push harder throughout the season. He wouldn’t make all of those lazy, unnecessary mistakes. He would… no. Deep down, a part of him always knew Lando would be the world champion this year. He should’ve prepared himself more, or not let himself spiral. He was sick with regret.
“I’m sorry,” Oscar choked out, face still hidden in the fabric of Lando’s team kit and voice muffled by such.
Lando’s face paled. “Why are you apologizing?” He asked, panicked. Oscar hadn’t done anything wrong. He could never do wrong in Lando’s eyes. Lando was pretty sure Oscar could shoot him in the head and Lando would consider it a mistake.
“I’m ruining everything.” Oscar sobbed, voice cracking on the last word. He shook his head back and forth uncontrollably.
That might’ve been the worst thing Lando had ever heard. Lando was now the one about to be sick.
“No, no, Osc,” Lando soothed, petting Oscar’s hair, “you haven’t ruined anything! What are you talking about?”
And just when Lando thought things couldn’t get any worse, he heard, “You should be celebrating, not here with me.” from Oscar. His Oscar.
Lando felt ill. Physically ill like any sustenance in his stomach had turned to acid and was rising as bile to the back of his throat. The warm, all-too-familiar burning pressure behind his eyes began to build up. He willed himself to hold it in and stay strong for Oscar who clearly needed a shoulder to cry on, or rather a chest to sob into. As much as he hated hearing the awful sound of Oscar crying, Lando would gladly be the one Oscar came to when he was upset. He was, in fact, grateful that Oscar trusted him to be vulnerable around. Lando was more than elated that he knew all sides of Oscar, but all he could concentrate on in the moment was that Oscar thought that Lando would rather be somewhere else than with him. He had it all wrong.
“What?” Lando asked, bewildered at Oscar’s confession. It was all so wrong.
“No, no, Oscar,” He hugged Oscar tighter to his chest.
Lando’s heart was racing with the urgency to get his point across. His first response wasn’t nearly enough.
How was he supposed to tell his friend, best friend, all the things that were racing across his mind?
I want to be wherever you are. My heart lies next to yours. My home is where you reside. I keep every note, every card, every tiny thing you’ve ever given me in a box that lies under my bed. It has a pretty white ribbon I bought at a crafts shop. It is hidden deep, alongside the feelings I have for you. I want to tell you how I feel. I want you to feel the same.
I want to hold your hand in public and kiss the tears off of your face in private. I want to open my eyes in the morning and see your face up inches away from mine. I want to memorize every freckle, every scar on your body until I know it better than my own. I want to hear your precious laughter and soft voice every waking minute until I am old and grey and can no longer hear but I will never forget because the sounds will be engraved into my mind forever. I want to learn everything about you and recount everything I already know. You’re not my past, but you’re my present and I want you to be my future. A future without you is not a future worth living for.
You are the apple of my eye, sunshine peaking through the clouds after a storm, and the light at the end of the tunnel. You are a sweet popsicle on a sweltering summer day and the gorgeous papaya orange in every shore side sunset. A fire place in the winter. The final piece of my puzzle.
I am incomplete without you. I live and breathe for another opportunity to see you, even if we don’t speak then. A glimpse of you is my breath and your smile at me is the blood that runs in my veins.
You are indescribable for me. No matter what words I can conjure up in my brain, they will never be enough to portray the true beauty of your soul.
You are my closest friend. My favorite teammate. My favorite person to laugh at and to make laugh. My favorite person to sleep next to and to wake up by. My favorite late night hotel room guest and notification on my phone. My everything. You matter to me, Oscar. I want you, Oscar. All of you, Oscar. Oscar, I love you.
But instead he just says, “There is no other place I’d want to be but here with you.”
And it wasn’t enough to soothe the insufferable worries spreading like a virus in Oscar’s head.
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“You should be celebrating, not here with me.” Oscar heard himself say. The silence afterwards was long, but not awkward, never awkward. To Oscar, it was the peaceful silence between people who’s company was enough to fulfill the space.
His chin was now tucked into the crook of Lando’s neck. With every ragged breath, his nose brushed against his teammate’s warm, smooth skin.
“What?” Lando sounded horrified at Oscar’s words. “No, no, Oscar.”
Oscar was enthralled and sickened by the proximity simultaneously. It was the second most intimate interaction the pair had shared. The Aussie felt everything around him, yet also nothing like he was a ghost observing its corpse. He felt Lando’s right hand splayed wide across his back. His other hand was cupping Oscar’s neck, fingers curling slightly at the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Lando was subtly rocking them. Just enough to soothe without being too much movement.
Nothing about Lando was ever too much. Lando was the baby bear in Goldilocks. He was never too much but always enough. Just right. Perfect.
The perfectness of Lando made Oscar’s heart ache in the way the heart yearns for someone so close but so out of reach. Oscar had Lando right in his hands, but he couldn’t say the things he wanted to say. Not if he wanted to keep Lando this close.
How can you hold me like this, talk to me like this, draw me in, if we’re only friends?
So, Oscar, heart broken and dream stolen by his closest friend, continued to cry into said friend’s chest.
“There is no other place I’d want to be but here with you. I promise.” Lando whispered as he pressed his face into Oscar’s hair.
Oscar’s fists, gripping the front of Lando’s team kit, tightened around the fabric like it would disappear if he let go even slightly. Lando, feeling the action, pulled Oscar closer.
I fucking hate pretending you’re not breaking my heart.
Sob after sob spilled unapologetically out of Oscar’s mouth. His jaw was sore from hanging open and he could already feel the post-cry migraine approaching even though Oscar didn’t feel close to finished. He wanted to continue crying. He wanted to yell at Lando. He wanted to hit him. Why did Lando get everything?
Why was Lando so fucking perfect?
Lando was sunshine in human form and the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting through the house. He was godlike. Smooth, tanned skin. Dark, wild curls that in the moment, were beautifully stuck to his also perfect forehead. Fierce hazel eyes that sparkled in the warm sunlight and somehow seem to only soften for Oscar.
You have me fucking imagining shit.
Big, warm hands that fit perfectly in Oscar’s smaller ones. Broad, muscular shoulders that made it impossible for Oscar to not stare. A defined back to pair. God, Oscar could drool over the sight of Lando from the back. His eyes couldn’t help but wander. Wander lower, over Lando’s curves and down his thick thighs and calves. To lovesick Oscar, every inch of Lando was undoubted perfection and the remedy to the sickness of wanting lodged in his chest.
Oscar just didn’t understand how Lando didn’t feel the same way he felt. How did he not feel the spark that Oscar felt during every exchanged glance across the room? Or the pang in his chest for every lingering touch? Was it all a game to Lando, or was he genuinely oblivious to Oscar’s feelings?
No. Lando had to know, didn’t he? Oscar knew he wasn’t subtle in the way he stared at Lando or the way he’d laugh too loud at his jokes or how he responded a second too quickly at Lando’s come over texts. God, he felt pathetic, but he was willing to feel that way forever if he had Lando by his side. Even if not in the preferred relationship.
Peeling his face away from Lando’s warm, inviting chest, Oscar, through tear-clouded vision, blinked up at Lando.
And the wound opened all over again. The sight of Lando had ripped away the scab.
Oscar unashamedly marveled up at Lando’s breathtaking face. His usually piercing eyes were filled with concerned and were searching Oscar’s face as if looking for an answer to an unbeknownst question. His full brows were furrowed and were accompanied by two lines across his forehead. Oscar choked on another sob. It was all so, so unfair.
“You’re okay, Osc. Just breathe for me, yeah?” Lando cooed down at his teammate, reaching a hand to tenderly brush away a tear sliding down Oscar’s jaw. He just cried harder at that. His breath was hitching violently and beginning to trouble Lando further.
“Are you breathing all right, bunny?” Lando asked, heart nearly jumping out of his chest as the nick name left his lips.
It was at that moment that Oscar realized how hard of a time he was having breathing. Lando saw the exact second Oscar comprehended the question and his dilemma.
“I can’t breathe—” Oscar choked, still maintaining the intense eye contact he held with Lando. He was unable to look away, even in his state.
On one hand, Oscar was appalled that he was this exposed to Lando. But on the other hand, he wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Okay, alright.” Lando affirmed, pulling Oscar back against his chest, clearly searching for a solution.
“Breathe in with me, yeah?” He tried, stroking Oscar’s hair.
Lando took a deep exaggerated inhale in hope that Oscar would follow. He didn’t. No matter how hard he willed himself, Oscar was physically unable to force himself to follow Lando’s command.
“I can’t, I can’t…” Oscar sobbed. The nausea in his throat was rising. He wanted Lando closer, if possible, but also a million miles away.
Ironic how the one inflicting his pain was the one that Oscar reached for.
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Lando continued rocking Oscar. He only hoped he was grounding Oscar as much as he was grounding himself.
“I can’t, I can’t.” Oscar cried, frantically shaking his head back and forth to help get his point across.
The situation was miserably spiraling out of Lando’s control.
“I know, I know it’s hard, Oscar,” Lando conceded, maintaining his routine of petting Oscar’s hair.
“I need you to try really hard, Osc,” Lando shushed lightly, rubbing Oscar’s lower back in small, gentle circles, “You can do it, baby.”
That was a new one. Lando had never called Oscar baby before. It was almost scary how easily it rolled off his tongue and how Oscar responded to it by burying his face further into Lando, nose nuzzling Lando’s collarbone. It was clear that he hadn’t made Oscar uncomfortable with the pet name, which led Lando to the further conclusion that Oscar might have similar feelings to Lando.
This wasn’t a possibility that the Brit had explored previously. He had mostly believed that his emotions were one-sided. Mostly. There had been circumstances…
Like last race when he and Oscar were walking together to hospitality. Their steps had been perfectly synced and Lando had purposefully allowed their hands to brush with every swing of their arms as they walked. Oscar hadn’t pulled away, in fact, he seemed to inch closer, leaning into the touch, letting it linger. Then, as Lando stepped in front of him to hold open the door, Oscar had smiled at him. It wasn’t just a friendly smile. His eyes had sparkled with something unsaid. The way Oscar had looked at him took Lando’s breath away. His stomach flipped like he was on a roller coaster. Lando was left a little breathless, still leaning against the door.
Or a few weeks ago when Lando had texted Oscar his routine message asking if he’d like to come over to Lando’s hotel suite. Oscar had responded of course, Lando had given him the room number, and no less than five minutes later, Oscar had knocked at the door. The room was hot and Lando had recently gotten out of the shower. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt yet because he didn’t think Oscar would arrive so soon. But also maybe a little voice in Lando’s head wanted to see the Aussie’s reaction. And oh, did it.
When Lando opened the door, he was met with a gorgeously tired Oscar.
“Hey, Lando,” Oscar smiled. His hair was wet, cheeks flushed from the flaming heat he always turned the water to, and his eyes immediately wandered down Lando’s body. Lando was cut and he knew it.
“Hi, mate,” Lando smiled at his teammate, who quickly pried his eyes away from Lando’s abs and up to meet his gaze, “Sorry, I just showered. Come in.” Lando stepped out of the doorway to let Oscar through. He shut the door behind him.
Oscar, dramatic as usual, had flopped down face first on the bed. Little did Lando know, this time it was to cover his blush.
“Tired?” Lando laughed at the sight of his teammate, sprawled out halfway on the bed like a starfish.
“Mmrmrmrm.” Oscar grumbled, voice muffled pathetically by the sheets.
Lando was of course correct about Oscar’s exhaustion and the two of them soon ended up tucked into Lando’s bed. Oscar, who ran cold, always loved to be fully under the covers and when possible, close to the nearest source of warmth. This time, the source of warmth was Lando. Oscar’s eyelids were beginning to become heavy as the comforter wrapped around him. As soon as Lando climbed in next to him, Oscar wriggled back onto his side and right up to Lando.
“You’re warm.” Oscar murmured, pressing his face into Lando’s bicep. Lando nearly flinched at the contrast of Oscar’s cold nose, but fought to stay still because he didn’t want Oscar to read it wrong and pull away.
“You’re cold.” Lando teased. He pulled his arm away and Oscar’s stomach dropped before he realized that Lando was wrapping said arm around his shoulders. Oscar scooted closer to Lando, resting his head on his chest. Both of their hearts were ready to leap out of their chests, but neither made any moves of pulling away. Oscar quickly drifted off, peaceful in Lando’s embrace. That night had gone on Lando’s list of Top 5 Days.
Then, Lando was pulled out of his reminiscence by Oscar burrowing somehow even closer. He could feel Oscar’s hot breath against his neck. However, he could tell Oscar was running out of tears. Lando was only hoping that it meant Oscar was coming down. His breath was slowly starting to even out.
“Shh, baby,” Lando said again, tracing a thumb along Oscar’s jaw when Oscar’s breath hitched halfway through a soft sob, “you’re doing so well.”
Oscar nodded once against Lando’s neck.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked the boy curled up in his lap.
“I—” Oscar’s voice was cut off with another sob, born from reflection on the day.
Lando waited while Oscar attempted to collect himself, despite lingering tears still rolling down his face.
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“…almost mine.” Oscar whispered, voice raspy and broken.
He felt Lando freeze against him.
“It was almost mine…” Oscar repeated before leaning back into Lando and shoving his face into Lando’s collarbone again.
The floodgates reopened as the scab over the wound was torn clean off. It pained Oscar to even think of the title given to Lando, but it hurt him more when he thought of how selfish he was being. They had still won the constructors. And what kind of teammate, friend, whatever they were, wouldn’t be happy for Lando?
Oscar was absolutely revolted by his egotistical thoughts, especially because the man who he envied was holding him as he cried.
“I’m sorry, Osc.” Lando whispered hoarsely, like the words had gotten stuck in his throat halfway through, like he didn’t know what else say. Lando always what knew what to say to Oscar when Oscar needed reassurance. But for the first time, he was rendered speechless.
Lando’s breathless apology just made Oscar feel worse and the dam broke again. Fresh tears stained Lando’s team kit, as well as the unmistakable dampness that accompanied crying. Oscar was too far gone in his head, replaying every mistake during the race, to wonder if Lando minded. He didn’t.
So, they continued sitting there: Oscar in Lando’s lap, face tucked away in Lando’s chest, Lando gingerly rocking them back and forth and brushing his fingers through Oscar’s unruly hair. It was the safest Oscar had ever felt.
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Nearly twenty minutes later, Oscar was completely worn out and half asleep on Lando. Whether from the race, his tears, or a combination of the two, the Aussie was exhausted. He had run out of tears and all that was left was his frustration.
“I’m sorry, Lando.” Oscar whispered, finally peeking his head up from its place on Lando’s shoulder.
Lando, looking down at Oscar, was bewildered. His hand, which had been rubbing small circles on Oscar’s back, paused its cycle.
“What are you sorry for, bunny?” Lando asked, utterly confused and trying to break the tension with the nickname. He was not good with confrontation or awkwardness.
“For… all this.” Oscar sniffed, gesturing vaguely to how the two of them were set up. The words weren’t forming the sentences he wanted to say. He was embarrassed and upset, but also infinitely grateful for his teammate, his Lando.
“I’m really sorry for… for ruining your night. Tonight, tonight should have been about you. I’m so happy that it’s you, Lan. If it wasn’t gonna be me, I wanted it to be you.”
They sat in silence for a minute or two. Oscar wasn’t sure if he had said too much or not enough.
So, he added, “And thank you… for sitting with me.”
Lando finally made eye contact with Oscar. His gaze was soft, slight concern shown by a faint furrow of his thick brows. It took Oscar’s breath away, but he met Lando’s stare with the same intensity. Oscar’s heart beat was racing just as fast as he was going during the race, as if it was ready to leap from his chest and into Lando’s hands at any moment.
“Please don’t apologize,” Lando said, finally, “and don’t thank me either.”
And then Lando cut him off by pressing his lips to his. The world around Oscar seemed to blur and fireworks shot off in the distance. Lando tilted his head to the right ever so slightly so his nose wouldn’t bump Oscar’s and brought his hand up to cup Oscar’s jaw tenderly. Lando kissed Oscar like he had all the time in the world and he wanted to spend every minute of that time with him. No one had ever kissed Oscar like that. It was soft and gentle, but filled with every unspoken word between the two of them and the years of pining and teasing and feeling.
It was everything anyone would want in a kiss and even more because it was shared between the two of them.
That moment froze in Oscar’s mind, like he had taken a picture. He tucked it away for later.
Then, Lando pulled back. Oscar was unsure how long the kiss had lasted, but he knew he wanted more. Needed more.
“Is this okay?” Lando whispered. His eyes were still closed. His breath was warm on Oscar’s face. Their noses were still touching. Before answering, Oscar took a second to memorize the perfect face in front of him. His eyes grazed over the tiny scar on the bridge of Lando’s nose and the freckle over his left dimple. How his long lashes brushed his skin as his eyes fluttered.
“More than okay.” Oscar breathed back. It was a miracle to him that he was still able to breathe.
“Will you stop me if I do it again?” Lando asked, almost tentatively, eyes still shut like he was secretly bracing for rejection that was never going to come.
Oscar didn’t respond with words. Instead, he closed the inch-wide gap and kissed Lando first this time. Lando’s lip were feather light against his, but soft and warm and fit like a puzzle piece.
And time froze there. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Not the title, not the celebrations just outside the door, not Oscar’s tear stained face, nothing but the two of them.
This was it was supposed to feel like. Love.
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