shooting stars, racing cars

You're in the middle of an important conversation between Friedrich and Brigitte. He's in the garage after a disastrous race that ended in the very first corner. He's just climbed out of the car, pulling off his balaclava along with his helmet. Good. Brigitte walks in the exact moment he looks up, his face damp with sweat from the heat trapped beneath all the layers he'd been wearing, and his eyes are burning with all the anger and resentment he's about to unleash on the team.

The point of the scene is for Friedrich and Brigitte to argue.

He's frustrated, on edge. They aren't exactly friends, and she walks in looking as though she's about to say something meaningful, something he isn't going to hear. His temper is explosive. He hates everything and everyone, and he can't stand it when things slip out of his control.

And yet, the moment she steps through the doorway and he looks at her...

Oh, God.

You hate this.

Friedrich's expression softens. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he greets her with a small nod.

Like a proper gentleman.

You let your pen fall onto the desk with a loud clatter and stare at the manuscript, wondering how on earth things had gotten to this point. Maybe you needed to try a different approach...

Your hand reaches for the folder reserved for inspiration. A coworker had drawn the characters a couple of weeks ago based on the descriptions you'd given her, and, damn, she'd absolutely nailed it. You open it straight to Friedrich's page.

Yep.

That was him.

A strong nose. Light brown hair with a loose strand falling across his forehead. An imposing posture. Ice-blue eyes.

You leave the folder open on the desk where you can see it while you write and pick your pen back up.

Friedrich's face doesn't soften this time.

It hardens.

A stab of guilt washes over you for changing your original plan, but you keep writing...

He's going to walk toward Brigitte. You can feel him settling into the decision. His eyes are fixed on her, focused, intense...

Gentle.

Gentle?!

No!

And where had Friedrich's stubble gone?

He was literally right there in front of you, and with every sentence you wrote, it was as if another hair disappeared from his face...

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Apparently, Friedrich now has a kind face, brown eyes, no stubble, and absolutely no interest in picking a fight.

Not that he was looking to Brigitte for comfort, it wasn't that. He was simply... mature. You could feel it.

At this moment, Friedrich was just a good man who understood the limits between them and had no intention of dragging the girl he cared about into problems that belonged to him alone... and to the awful car they'd built for him to drive.

Maybe it was finally time to accept that your characters really did have minds of their own.

On the other side of the continent, Oscar adjusted the backpack slung over his shoulder as he stepped out of the car that had brought him home from the airport. He gave the driver a simple wave before closing the door, watching the black car disappear down the street toward a destination he had no way of guessing.

Home.

His shoulders relaxed at the sight of the elegant building standing before him, easily one of the best things he'd ever bought since first setting foot on this side of the world.

He crossed the stone pathway leading to the front door and reached for the key he'd deliberately kept in his pocket, eager to avoid wasting even a second longer before finally doing what he'd been looking forward to for quite some time.

He should've come back last night, like Lando had. It didn't matter. He was here now.

The key turned in the lock. The door opened. Oscar let out a slow breath through his nose.

The moment he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, his first instinct was to let his fangs slip free. After all these years, keeping them hidden no longer took any effort, but it was always more comfortable when they were there, just barely peeking past his lips, effortless. Natural. Oh! He slipped off his shoes too, and traded them for the thongs waiting beneath the cabinet in the entryway, exactly where he'd left them.

Still wearing his backpack, he wandered into the kitchen and set it down on the table before unzipping it. The small cooler was still inside, packed with the supplies he'd brought for the trip.

Four blood bags left.

Honestly, that was an impressive amount to have brought back. He was getting good at this.

He transferred the remaining bags into the refrigerator, keeping one in hand for a little snack as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

So many notifications.

"Has Oscar Piastri finally regained his form?

His blistering pace at COTA marked an impressive return to form for the Australian driver… etcetera, etcetera.”

It was a dull, predictable article. Oscar had read pieces just like it about himself, and about the other drivers on the grid, more times than he cared to count. Even so, it earned a small smile. Well then. Where were all the headlines saying he'd forgotten how to drive?

He dropped onto the sofa, took another sip of blood, and reached for the TV remote.

"The greatest minds of Generation Z aren't just scholars and academics. Take a look at some of the names redefining an entire generation..."

Oscar was already reaching to change the channel, his thumb hovering over the button, when a familiar name caught his attention.

"...The young author has become a phenomenon across today's biggest platforms, amassing an extraordinary following on social media and placing two consecutive novels at the top of the New York Times Bestseller List for multiple weeks."

Your face appeared on the screen. Oscar leaned forward, watching with quiet interest.

"...Sources claim that the young author isn't just interested in becoming the next breakout name in Formula One fiction, but in living out a romance of her own."

Oscar took another sip through the straw, drawing the familiar slurp that meant the bag was empty. Even so, his attention didn't waver. One eyebrow arched.

What nonsense were they talking about now?

"...The next name on our list has everything to do with that. Oscar Piastri, fresh off his victory at this weekend's United States Grand Prix in Austin, was spotted on what appeared to be a romantic outing with the bestselling author at a charming local ice cream shop... A sweet way to celebrate? The first steps toward a new romance? Or simply proof that two millionaire celebrities can be astonishingly cheap?"

...What?

Footage of the two of you at the ice cream shop filled the screen.

There he was, smiling. There you were, stuffing your mouth with that ridiculously colorful ice cream. And then there was that look he inevitably wore whenever he was paying close attention to something he found particularly interesting, the one that always made people assume he was in love.

He'd tried to change it before. He knew he was personally responsible for at least half the romantic rumors people had invented about him and Lando.

But Oscar didn't know how to look any other way.

He looked at the screen again. His small smile. You lowering your gaze to your notes… Yeah. It really did look pretty bad.

The program moved on to other names. Other celebrities. Some people Oscar didn't recognize, a few close friends, and others he'd only ever heard of in passing.

Oscar switched off the television and tossed the remote onto the sofa.

With his now-free hand, he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up a little, before hopping off the couch to throw the empty blood bag away properly.

"So... you want to change your character's defining traits?" Aalyiah, your literary agent, asked over the phone.

You were halfway through Tiffany's walk when you'd decided to call her. It was an urgent matter, obviously. You needed a second opinion.

"Well... it's complicated. I know the publishing house has already received the initial concept for the character, but..." you began, only for her to cut you off.

"Do you have any idea what you're asking me?" she said. "Seriously, the entire team is already working around the character profiles you submitted. I don't know if a change like this is even possible."

Your footsteps came to an abrupt stop. Tiffany noticed the leash had gone taut and glanced back at you as though wondering what on earth you were doing. She wasn't the only one.

"Aalyiah, we're talking about a publishing house. Everybody knows stories aren't set in stone," you protested, the frustration obvious in your voice. "You're trying to limit my creative freedom. I can't force a character to be someone he isn't!"

Silence settled over the call for a brief moment. Meanwhile, Tiffany wandered from one patch of grass to another, happily sniffing everything in sight.

"I think you can," Aalyiah replied at last, completely unfazed. "He's your character."

She paused before continuing.

"I know you didn't get the interview with the driver you originally wanted, but use whatever you can from the one you did get. That's your job, turn it into something magical. There's already so much work built around this idea, and it's a really good one."

Another brief pause.

"We like our hot-headed driver ...Can we count on him?”

No… Yes… No idea. There were too many answers. You knew which one Aalyiah wanted to hear. You knew which one you wanted to give. And you knew which one was actually possible.

It felt like betraying your creativity. Betraying your art. You hated that.

"I think..." you began, your voice hesitant. You took a step forward, then another, forcing yourself back into the rhythm of the walk as though the simple act of moving might somehow convince your own mind that the decision was genuine. "I think so."

Your voice had fallen so quiet you barely recognized it as your own.

"Wonderful! We'll be expecting the first chapters by Friday, all right? Kisses, sweetheart."

Just like that, she hung up before you had the chance to add anything else.

After your conversation with Aalyiah, it took you two whole days to write another word. Which was deeply concerning.

The publishing house was expecting an update by the following day, exactly as she had warned you, and all you could remember was that you'd spent the entire previous day doing just about everything except writing. Somehow, your office, your books, even your own ideas had become difficult to face. Something you needed time for.

You'd even tried walking toward your office door. It hadn't worked. The room had become practically repellent. You were convinced you were developing an allergy to it.

Still, you couldn't keep running forever.

The next morning, you got out of bed, made yourself an iced coffee, prepared waffles so elaborately decorated they looked like little works of art trying to inspire one another, and locked yourself inside your office. Your writer's block was not going to beat you.

Friedrich's character illustration had practically become a patron saint you worshipped. Even so… It wasn't until late that afternoon that the first word finally appeared.

Brigitte loved chaotic race weekends. They meant she'd have to prove herself in all sorts of different ways to earn her place on the team, but they also meant she'd have plenty of opportunities to do exactly that.

Friedrich hated chaotic race weekends. They were too difficult. Too unpredictable. He liked winning. He liked knowing he was going to.

That weekend, it was raining.

Great! You'd already written scenes that took place much later, but you'd never actually written the beginning. So this was how they were going to meet. During a rainy race weekend.

Huh.

That was interesting. No doubt about it. Thank you, Friedrich and Brigitte, for letting me know.

Your pen found its way back into your hand, though your other one drifted to the back of your neck. It was nice to know that something was finally taking shape.

It wasn't hard to tell that Brigitte was new to the environment. The team was teaching her the basics, everything that came with her position as assistant to the number-one driver, Friedrich. She hadn't actually met him yet. All she knew was that he was the greatest driver in the sport.

Was she intimidated?

Absolutely.

Your eyebrows shot up. Oh my God. This was brilliant! Brigitte was real. You leaned over your desk, suddenly energized, your pen racing across the page.

Brigitte didn't get the chance to meet Friedrich for most of the weekend. Everything was happening too quickly, and with the terrible weather conditions, the people responsible for managing what was happening on track were constantly stuck behind closed doors in endless meetings.

Then came qualifying.

Friedrich was on intermediate tires. The rain intensified. Yellow flag. Four cars were recovered from the track.

Friedrich was worried, of course. The conditions were terrible. Really, really terrible. But he thought there was still something he could do about it.

Back in the garage, Brigitte wore her headset like everyone else on the team. And that was when she heard him for the very first time.

"I'm going all in."

His race engineer, Clark, answered:

"All right. Be careful."

It was such a simple exchange. There was nothing remarkable about the words themselves. Brigitte was fascinated anyway.

Friedrich had the cleanest driving style she'd ever seen. Controlled. Precise. Fast in a way that seemed almost impossible.

He didn't take pole position that afternoon, but he came close. P2, separated by mere thousandths of a second.

"Good work, everyone. A few things to learn from today, but I think we can improve on them."

"Copy that, Friedrich. Congratulations.”

So you could still write. Wow. And the best part? You remembered every piece of criticism you'd received after your previous books, and you were fixing all of it. The garage descriptions? Your time in the paddock had genuinely helped.

You smiled. Apparently, Friedrich was salvageable after all.

You looked over at his character illustration and held your hand up in the air, offering him an imaginary high five.

"Friedrich, this is your new personal assistant. She'll be helping you around the paddock, just like we discussed in the last few meetings," Brock, the head of the support staff, said, introducing the two of you.

The driver had just finished qualifying. After a strong result, team meetings usually wrapped up a little earlier before race day, giving him a bit of time to rest.

Or, in this case... to meet his new assistant.

"Hi! I'm Brigitte!" she said brightly, holding out her hand.

Friedrich shut one eye as he pulled off his balaclava, shaking his hair free from his face.

Then... he looked up at Brigitte.

There it was. Right there. This was it. Now you were finally going to give the editor exactly what she wanted.

The moment their eyes met, Friedrich noticed the excitement in Brigitte's movements and...

Wait.

He smiled, taking her hand in his.

"Hello, Brigitte. How are you?"

Son. Of. A. Bitch. Absolute traitor.

You stared at the manuscript in complete disbelief, blinking once as your shoulders slowly slumped.

Gradually, your gaze drifted toward the little notebook you'd carried with you to Austin, the one filled with interviews, observations... and your conversations with Oscar.

The wind rushed against the little bat's face as he soared across the open countryside at full speed, flying straight toward the moon.

Oscar loved doing this, pretending he was actually going to catch the enormous natural satellite, only to realize halfway there that it was impossible, then dramatically transforming back into a person. He'd pretend he was falling... falling... falling... and, just before hitting the ground, he'd become a bat again.

That was why he loved coming home so much.

That night, he wasn't alone. Lando had come with him and was down below, attempting to build a campfire, something Oscar definitely shouldn't have encouraged. Then again, he'd already pitched both tents, so Lando had to keep himself busy somehow.

"Having fun, kid?" Norris called when he heard the sound of Oscar transforming behind him.

"Very," Oscar replied, throwing himself onto the grass with his arms spread wide. "Finished over there?"

Lando didn't answer right away. Instead, the flames leapt higher, as if answering for him. A grin spread across the Brit’s face automatically, practically saying, You underestimate me.

"And let there be fire," he declared, settling onto the rock strategically positioned to serve as a bench.

Oscar let out a laugh at his friend's expense and leaned back, folding his arms behind his head and resting one ankle over his opposite knee. Lando fished a hot dog on a skewer out of the cooler and pointed it towards the fire.

"You said you saw some report you were in today, but I didn't quite catch what it was about," Lando said, picking up the conversation they'd started in the car on the way over.

"Yeah. It was one of those lists of the most influential Gen Z people," Oscar replied.

Before he could go on, Lando cut in.

"Was I on the list?"

Without missing a beat, Oscar answered,

"If you were, I didn't stick around long enough to find out. But I was."

Lando scoffed.

"Please. That's ridiculous. You're not even Gen Z."

Oscar shrugged.

"Anyway, let me finish," he said, absent-mindedly pulling at the grass beside him. "It was on one of those gossip channels, I think. You know that writer who interviewed me?"

Lando blew on his hot dog before taking a bite.

"Your crush," he said through a mouthful of food.

Honestly, talking to Lando was like talking to a toddler.

Oscar dragged both hands down his face and let out a long sigh. That was how Lando knew he'd accomplished his mission, and the grin he'd been holding back finally appeared.

"Anyway..." Oscar said, deciding to ignore him altogether. "The photos. Someone took pictures of the two of us at the ice cream shop and sent them to one of those gossip outlets. They ended up showing them on TV."

Lando nodded, taking another bite of his hot dog.

"That happens, mate."

Oscar clicked his tongue. He knew that.

"That's all it was. End of story.”

For a moment, Lando considered what Oscar had said.

"So... how did the interview go, anyway? I don't think we've actually talked about it."

"It was interesting."

"Interesting? Seriously? Cheers, Oscar. That's incredibly helpful. I know everything there is to know about the interview now."

Oscar laughed.

"What do you want me to say? It was an interview."

"It was three interviews."

Lando didn't even realize what he'd just said. He was far too busy trying to pull the last stubborn piece of hot dog off the skewer.

Yeah.

Three interviews.

"It was... they were... interesting," Oscar admitted, looking up at the star-filled sky. "She let me read a passage from the book she's writing."

"She's a good writer. She took something that happened between us and put it on the page."

Never in his life had Oscar seen Lando frown quite so hard.

"What did she write about?"

"Something that happened in the Champions' Corridor, near the drivers' rooms. We were talking while she was looking at the portraits."

"And what did you say?"

"I told her she'd forgotten to include the hand kiss."

Lando turned to face him completely, the look of utter disbelief on his face.

"The what?"

Oscar blinked, confused.

"When she left, I kissed her hand. Just to be polite. She didn't put that in the story."

"Oscar... that's flirting."

"No, it isn't."

"It absolutely is."

Oscar gave Lando the flattest look imaginable. The very next second, he turned into a bat.

Lando nearly fell backwards.

"Fuck! Don't do that! You know I jump every time.”

The bat paid Lando no attention whatsoever, taking off once again toward his moon.

...

Alright.

Oscar knew it had been flirting.

By the time the next race weekend arrived, Oscar was just moments away from the first free practice session of the week. His race suit was tied around his waist, the fireproof layers underneath still visible, as he walked down the corridor toward his side of the garage.

He greeted one mechanic with a fist bump, then another, while the media team followed close behind with a phone, recording everything for the team's social media.

"How are we looking?" he asked Tom, leaning over the engineering desk.

The engineer let out a frustrated sigh. Hm. That couldn't be a good sign.

"Problems with the track. Free Practice is probably going to be delayed by an hour or two."

Oscar already knew something was wrong. All the drivers had been warned that the sessions might be postponed. He just hadn't expected it to actually happen.

"All right," he replied with a nod.

What else could he do? This wasn't particularly good news for him.

All right.

Oscar turned away from the garage and headed back outside. He'd already studied everything he could, taken a close look at all the updates, and there wasn't much left to do besides wait. So he wandered over to the common area. Lando was already there. Cassandra, Sophie. The whole group had gathered in one corner with the rest of the team, sharing coffee and laughs. Oscar wasn't particularly interested in staying.

He walked down the steps and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He wasn't looking for anyone in particular, and he didn't have anything special planned. He just wanted something to pass the time.

Gasly happened to be walking by. Spotting Oscar, he smiled and came over for a quick handshake. Oscar smiled too, always happy to see a good friend.

"Unfortunate delay," the Frenchman said, making Oscar arch an eyebrow before shaking his head in equal frustration.

"Tell me about it."

They slipped into an easy conversation, the kind that naturally happened outside the motorhomes whenever you ran into someone who understood the same world you did. Oscar was completely engaged, of course. He always was. Every now and then, he'd throw his head back with a laugh.

That was when his eyes caught something curious.

A few meters away, outside the neighboring motorhome, Max Verstappen was smiling too. He was laughing at something. He wasn't alone, it would've been absurd if he had been laughing at absolutely nothing, but that wasn't what caught Oscar's attention.

You were there. Talking to him.

Since when had you decided to come to this race? And why didn't he know?

Someone called Max from inside the motorhome. Your conversation came to an abrupt pause as both of you instinctively turned your heads toward the voice at the exact same moment.

Oscar's attention was still on Pierre. He was still reacting to the conversation. But only half of it.

Side by side, you and Max walked up the steps toward the motorhome, your conversation seemingly endless. What on earth did the two of you have so much to talk about?

Oscar looked back at Pierre and smiled at whatever story he was telling about a mix-up at the restaurant he'd gone to with Kika the night before. Interesting, Pierre.

Unlike the past few weeks, there he was again with his gap-toothed smile, the one that made him look like one of the children he treated in Pediatrics, his backpack bouncing against his back as he greeted anyone unfortunate enough to fall within the reach of his cheerful gaze, patients and staff alike.

Had the soul of the hospital returned?

He turned into the Pediatrics corridor just in time to hear Dr. Nico Hülkenberg, the night pediatrician, drawl out a long, sing-song "Gabrielaaaa," which could only mean he'd just run into his unofficially adopted protégé, the very same Gabriel who loved giving Lando a hard time.

"Glad to see you're having fun without me," Lando said, bumping fists with Nico before flashing Gabriel a wink.

"I wouldn't call it fun. This old man only had four patients all night. You should seriously consider making him stay longer," Gabriel said, nudging Nico's arm with the edge of his clipboard.

Nico raised both hands in surrender and shrugged.

"I'm just glad the kids aren't getting sick. That's hardly my fault," he replied, straightening up. He slipped off his lab coat, draped it over Lando's shoulder, and gave his other shoulder two friendly pats. "Cheers, boys. I'm heading home. You don't have wives, but I do. Thank God.”

Gabriel turned his back on them and headed down the corridor, muttering, "Poor woman..." over his shoulder and earning a middle finger from Nico, who was already on his way out. Lando let out an easy laugh before stepping into his office.

Backpack behind the chair, Nico's lab coat hanging up, his own slipped over his shoulders, and the day's patient charts collected from reception.

For a moment, he let out a long sigh, lowering his head to look at the white desk where he worked every day. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it, but when his gaze drifted to the phone resting on its surface and the screen lit up with a single notification that read, Can't wait for tonight, Lando smiled, suddenly thinking that everything ordinary about his life was actually pretty wonderful.

The day dragged on far more slowly than Lando would have liked. Why did his working hours suddenly feel four times longer than usual? Every time he glanced at the clock, it seemed to be showing the exact same minute as before, as though time had simply decided not to move. His mind was running far ahead of reality.

He let out a slow breath and ran a hand over his face, pushing his curls back until the front of his hair stuck up in every direction. Lando closed his eyes.

He could hold out a little longer.

His thoughts wandered.

Would you be wearing a dress? It would be the first time he'd ever seen you in one. Would you wear that strawberry-pink lip gloss that made your lips so distractingly beautiful? Would the perfume you wore on a night out be the same one you always wore to the hospital?

...

Lando smiled to himself and let his hand fall back to his side.

"Quinn, you can come in," he called, pulling the little girl's chart from the stack of paperwork. A moment later, Quinn walked into the office hand in hand with her mother, and he greeted them with the same gentle warmth he always did.

***

Lunchtime took a rather different turn. It was an unusual combination: Oscar, Max, and Maya Weug from Physiotherapy, all sitting at the same table, somehow managing to take their break at the same time. Lando was the last to arrive, wandering into the staff lounge looking completely lost in his own world.

Oscar and Maya were in the middle of a surprisingly heated debate, punctuated by laughter and the occasional sound of utter disbelief from Oscar as Maya enthusiastically recounted the spectacular argument she'd had with Doriane from Phlebotomy at the end of the previous year. Max, however, was detached enough from the conversation to notice something the other two hadn't.

Lando hadn't greeted anyone.

He opened the staff fridge, took out the lunch he'd brought from home, transferred it onto a plate, and slid it into the microwave. While it was heating up, he barely looked up from his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen as he typed a reply to someone, a quiet laugh escaping him every few seconds.

"Well, well. Dr. Norris from Pediatrics. What an honour to have you grace our humble staff lounge," Max teased, taking a bite of the cereal bar he'd decided counted as dessert, his eyes fixed on Lando.

Still completely absorbed in his phone, Lando blinked in surprise and looked up at Max as though he were seeing him for the first time all day. Behind him, the microwave beeped.

"Good afternoon, Max. Good afternoon, Oscar. And good afternoon, dear Maya," he said, finally retrieving his plate, grabbing his cutlery, and closing the microwave door.

There wasn't even a smile on his face as he walked over and took the empty seat. It was simply... his usual expression. Calm. Content.

Oscar and Maya greeted him in return.

"Hey, Lando."

"Hi, Doc. Long time no see. We were just talking about the whole thing with Doriane."

Lando raised an interested eyebrow as he cut himself a piece of chicken, and Maya immediately picked the story back up.

But Max knew.

He narrowed his eyes, took another bite of his cereal bar, and looked Lando straight in the face.

"You're seeing someone, aren't you?”

In the middle of a bite, Lando froze, his forearm resting on the table, fork suspended in mid-air as one eyebrow slowly lifted. He didn't answer straight away. Instead, a quiet little laugh escaped him as he speared a potato with his fork.

"You are?" Maya asked, immediately abandoning her own story, now far more interested in this new development.

"That's good," Oscar said, folding his arms across his chest. "After everything with Theo's mum... that's good."

Lando's smile grew just a little, though he made a noticeable effort not to give himself away. Reaching across the table, he grabbed the jug of juice, which, incidentally, wasn't even his, and poured himself a cup.

"Mm-hmm," he replied.

Max wasn't letting him off that easily.

"You're not going to tell us who she is?”

Lando simply shrugged, looking absolutely insufferable, and took his time taking a sip of his juice. He held Max's gaze the entire time, as though deliberately winding him up — or perhaps simply enjoying watching him get progressively more irritated.

"Not a chance," he said at last.

The table immediately erupted into a chorus of protests.

"No!"

"Come on!"

"I want to know!"

Lando just sat there, smiling like an idiot in the middle of the chaos he'd created.

The wait had been a long one, but well worth it.

By the time Lando finally stepped outside the hospital and filled his lungs with the cool early evening air, he knew good things were on the horizon (or perhaps he was simply confident enough to believe he knew exactly what he was doing). He typed out, On my way home now! I'll meet you outside your place in a couple of hours, added an excited little emoji to the end of the message, and hit send with a grin that matched it perfectly.

Yeah.

He had a good feeling about tonight.

And yes, alright, he looked good.

After spending a rather embarrassingly long time deciding whether to wear the outfit he'd planned in advance or go with a different one, he finally settled on the one he knew suited him best: a pair of trousers with the perfect fit that did wonderful things for his legs — not too tight, not too loose. A simple neutral top paired perfectly with the dark jacket he threw on over it, and he finished everything off with the most expensive cologne in his collection.

He briefly considered wearing his cap backwards...

No. Far too cheeky.

Just the hair.

Nice.

With that sorted, he could finally move on to the first step of the evening. You probably already know what that is.

STEP ONE: SAY "HI"

Lando pulled up outside your charming little house, one of the semi-detached homes tucked away in the south of the city, and parked far enough away that he could see you standing on the front steps.

The first thing he noticed was that… Yes. You were wearing a dress. And perhaps he ought to stop thinking he looked quite so handsome because, apparently, there was an entirely new definition of beautiful that had just been introduced to him.

Fuck me.

Your legs were on display. It wasn't a long dress. It was a lovely little thing, short enough to feel like summer, and just long enough for him to imagine things. Far too many things. And the lipstick… Dark. Lando let out a low groan and tipped his head back.

Right.

He stepped out of the car, wrapped in confidence. The cheeky backwards cap had never really been a plausible option, but the smug smile remained. It was subtle, barely there, as he made his way towards you at an unhurried pace.

You were distracted, fidgeting with your fingers as you stared down at your phone. Nervous. Lando let out a quiet laugh. You looked up. He lifted his eyebrows.

"Hi," he said, the single word carrying the unmistakable feeling of there you are.

"...Hi." the word slipped out before you swallowed hard.

Step one had been completed with absolute success.

"Can I say something?" Lando asked, his voice quieter now.

You blinked, stepped down the last stair, and suddenly he was completely surrounded by your perfume. Yes. It was the same one.

"You can," you replied, now standing right in front of him.

Clicking his tongue softly, Lando let his eyes wander over you from head to toe before slowly lifting one hand. He hesitated for the briefest moment, letting it hover near your waist in a silent request for permission.

A small smile found your lips.

He let out a quiet, amused breath through his nose before gently resting his hand there, with no intention beyond simply touching you. He didn't pull you any closer. He just left it there, completely captivated by the experience.

And you… You could barely breathe.

"Thank God you're not married," he murmured at last, the words sounding almost like a secret.

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, so immediate that you clapped a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the sound. Lando laughed too. He gently took your hand and lowered it from your face.

"Careful," he said. "Laughing at me is going to lead you down a very dangerous path."

He drew your arm a little closer and pressed a soft kiss to your wrist. Your eyes followed the movement, a shiver racing down your spine.

Oh, God.

"Is that so?" you asked as he finally laced his fingers with yours.

Another easy laugh escaped him. Lando seemed incapable of stopping. He was simply too happy.

"Well... it's a magician thing," he said, making one of your eyebrows arch.

"A magician thing..."

"Yeah. You laugh, and laugh, and laugh... and then, all of a sudden..." He paused dramatically. "Your clothes disappear."

This time you burst into laughter, loud enough to make you duck your head and hide your face against his shoulder. The very next second, you were telling him to shut up as the two of you walked towards the car, Lando coming out with one silly thing after another, as though to guarantee that this had been the best idea the two of you had ever had.

STEP TWO: BOAT TRIP UNDER THE STARS.

A lovely restaurant, a good bottle of wine, and a conversation that never seemed to run out. Somewhere between the middle and the end of the evening, Lando began to wonder whether he might actually be living in some strange alternate reality.

You caught him staring at you after taking another bite of your pasta, which made you reach for your napkin and dab at the corner of your mouth.

"What?"

Lando shook his head and took a sip of his wine. Before answering, he seemed to think about it for a moment.

"Nothing. It's just..." A soft, disbelieving laugh slipped out. "Us. Sitting here. After an entire year of... all of that. It just feels a bit..."

"Surreal?"

He considered the word for a second before giving a small nod.

"Yeah. I think that's it." He shrugged, tilting his head ever so slightly as he looked at you through his lashes. "I spent a very long time thinking this would never be a possibility." His smile softened. "And now you're here. Properly here.”

Your laugh was just as silly, filled with that same endearing warmth, and you leaned in ever so slightly. You were already sitting close together, but there was still room to move a little closer.

"Without white sterile walls and a line of little ones with runny noses?" you asked, gently lightening the mood.

His eyes dropped to yours, then briefly to your lips before finding your gaze again.

"Careful what you say about them," he replied. "I'm a proud defender of the little ones."

Your teeth caught your bottom lip as you smiled.

"I know. I've been watching it for months." You tilted your head. "It's adorable."

His hand came to rest lightly against your thigh, not claiming space, not demanding anything, but with the same quiet certainty it had carried when it had rested at your waist an hour earlier.

"I think we're getting a bit sidetracked here," he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I didn't come here to be adorable.”

"Then what did you come here for?"

"To impress you. Wasn't that obvious?"

"Impress me?" You let out a small, amused laugh. "It might actually be working."

"Is it?"

"It is."

"Good." A grin spread across his face. "Because I've got one more thing to show you."

With that, he leaned back slightly, his hand slipping away from your thigh, leaving the warmth of his touch lingering behind. He caught the waiter's attention, asked for the bill, and a minute later the evening had been paid for.

He stood, held out his hand to you, and smiled.

"Come on.”

The drive to the docks wasn't long, but it felt like an adventure.

Over the next five minutes, you kept trying to guess what Lando had planned, while he alternated between laughing at you and replying with, "No," "Nope," and "Not even close.”

That's when you heard the waves crashing against the rocks. You noticed the city lights gradually fading into the background, replaced by the lights lining the pier and the countless boats and yachts scattered across the bay — more than you had ever imagined you'd one day find yourself so close to.

Your eyes immediately found Lando's, full of questions, the obvious one already written all over your face. He simply shrugged, stepped out of the car, and walked around to your side.

"Lando, I didn't come wearing flip-flops, you know," you said with that quiet irony that carried the real question underneath.

"And I didn't bring my beach bag or sunscreen," he replied, flashing you such a smug little wink that you couldn't help rolling your eyes as he helped you out of the car.

Once you were both standing by the car, he cleared his throat, scratched his chin, and looked at you for a moment.

"Right..." he said at last. "I'm going to need you to close your eyes.”

Your shoulders slumped, and your eyes narrowed at him. You were suspicious, of course. Lando had been full of mysteries ever since the evening began.

"I'll close my eyes because Theo absolutely adores you," you said. He took your hand, waiting patiently for you to finish. "Which means you're trustworthy. He doesn't like just anyone."

You closed your eyes.

His fingers tightened gently around yours. Lando was smiling so broadly that, had your eyes been open, you would've seen it.

"That little boy has brought so many good things into my life that I honestly don't even know how big a birthday present I should get him. It's got to be something big."

Slowly, he began guiding you towards the pier. You let yourself switch off completely, trusting wherever he was taking you. So much so that you simply carried on with the conversation, a quiet laugh escaping you.

"Speaking of that..." you said. "His birthday's coming up." Another little laugh. "He says he wants it to be Hulk-themed, which I thought was a bit funny. He's only become obsessed with Hulk recently, and I didn't even think children still liked him that much.”

"You'd be surprised! There always seems to come a point where most little boys want to be Spider-Man or Hulk."

"Which one were you, then?"

"Hulk, obviously." He glanced down at his own arms. "Have you seen the size of my biceps?"

"Mm. Not yet."

Okay, you'd caught him off guard. Damn it. Lando was blushing.

"Good one," he said, biting his lip.

You laughed. Again.

For a moment, he didn't say anything else. Despite being obviously flustered, Lando was also far too busy making sure you didn't trip over a rock or stumble as the pier sloped upwards, which drew a brief little "Ooh!" from you as you felt the incline beneath your feet.

"I'm so curious. You won't give me a single clue!"

"Clues ruin surprises."

"How boring," you said, feigning complete disbelief. But you weren't finished yet. "When did you even plan all of this?"

Lando thought for a moment. He considered whether he should tell you. He was already blushing enough as it was...

"I..." He hesitated, giving your hand a slightly firmer squeeze. "I... just kept a list of places I'd always thought it'd be nice to take you."

Hang on. Was he really saying what you thought he was saying?

You stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well. He looked at you, just the slightest bit alarmed, blinking several times.

"What?" he asked. "Was that a bad thing?"

"If my eyes weren't closed," you said, "I'd kiss you right now."

...

His shoulders dropped with relief, every bit of tension melting away. It was gradually replaced by that familiar, teasing smile that was so unmistakably Lando.

"Well, if that's the only problem..." But you didn't let him finish.

Your hand lifted to his face, aiming for his mouth but missing completely and landing over his nose instead, making him laugh at your clumsiness.

"Surprise first. Kiss later." A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "And then... the biceps."

"My biceps interest you, do they?"

"Very much.”

Lando bit the inside of his cheek at that comment because, yes, you did have a way of making him look a little ridiculous.

He simply carried on towards the final destination. There wasn't much left for you to trip over now, so he guided you with ease. As you got closer, he exchanged a few words with someone, making your eyebrows lift with curiosity, then he helped you up a few more steps.

Everything was uncertain, but the waves crashed somewhere below, the sea breeze sent your hair dancing through the air, and… Everything was perfect.

"You can open your eyes now," he said.

And you did.

The moment your eyes opened, the sky stretched endlessly above you. Far from the city's artificial lights, the stars shone brighter than you'd ever seen them before. And there were so many. So many! Your lips parted in astonishment as you took a step forward onto the...

The boat?

You looked down at the wooden deck, then towards the cabin. A little further ahead sat one of those elegant cushioned lounges you'd spent your whole life seeing in magazines.

Then your eyes found him.

Lando Norris.

Standing a few steps away, his hands tucked into his pockets as he watched you. There was barely a smile on his lips, but it was unmistakable in his eyes. Lando always smiled with his eyes. They never lied.

You walked towards him. Slowly. You stopped in front of him and tucked your hands behind your back. He noticed the way your chest was rising and falling far too quickly, your breathing uneven despite your best efforts.

"What?" he asked softly, almost in a whisper.

There was no laughter now.

"I really need to kiss you.”

Lando nodded and closed the distance between you with one final step.

He lifted a hand, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek, lingering there for a brief moment… Just a brief moment. Your eyes drifted shut once more as you leaned in ever so slightly, tilting your head up towards him. Lando's thumb brushed across your lips, then drifted down to your chin, tracing a gentle line beneath it.

It was almost as though he were testing the waters, making sure this moment was real.

Without the slightest hint of haste, Lando lowered his head and let his lips meet yours.

Oh. So this was what it felt like.

The sounds of nature faded away. There was no music in your mind, no cacophony of everyday thoughts. Lando couldn't remember work, appointments, or even the time when he hadn't been allowed to do this. A reality in which his lips never had the chance to find yours simply didn't make sense.

When you finally pulled apart, Lando was still looking into your eyes, and the sight of him stole the breath from your lungs. Even then, he continued to guide you, gently leading you over to the cushioned lounge at the bow of the boat.

He helped you sit down before… Before kneeling in front of you. You looked at him, your shoulders drawing in slightly, your lips parting in quiet surprise.

Lando pressed a kiss to one knee… Then the other. After that, his long fingers wrapped gently around your ankles as he slipped off your shoes, one at a time, slowly, as though they were something precious, setting them safely to one side. Then he straightened up, moved round beside you, and lay back, patting the empty space next to him for you to lie down as well.

Of course you did. Slowly. You could still feel the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips, and the memory of his fingers burning softly against your skin. You were still getting used to this new kind of closeness.

Lying on your sides, your hair kept falling into your face until you tucked it behind your ear. You looked at Lando.

Your hand lifted to his face without a second thought, coming to rest against his cheek in a gentle caress. Just as instinctively, he covered it with his own, closing his eyes.

"So..." you whispered, your voice barely louder than the sea around you. "You really thought we could never have this?"

A slow smile spread across Lando's face, but he nodded.

"Yeah... I..." He let out a quiet breath. "I got it wrong."

"You could've just asked me."

"I know." He gave a tiny shrug. "I just thought it was obvious."

A little laugh escaped you.

"Marcus is going to lose his mind when he finds out."

"Everyone at the hospital will as well."

He opened his eyes to find you looking back at him, one eyebrow raised.

"The hospital already knows?"

"The people at the hospital are unbearable." He huffed a laugh. "Every time I turned up in a good mood, they kept winding me up, saying it must be one of Theo's appointment days."

"And were they right?"

He looked at you with the flattest expression imaginable before closing his eyes again and letting his hand drift to your waist.

"I'm not answering that."

You laughed again.

Another smile found his lips, and the hand resting against your waist finally drew you closer until your body settled comfortably against his.

"Hmm..." you murmured, letting your nose brush lightly against his. "What's this?"

"Me trying to make you laugh a little bit more," he whispered, leaving a soft kiss against your lips.

You smiled as you immediately stole another.

"Does that mean..."

He interrupted with a small nod.

"Yeah." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But only if you want to."

"Laugh, laugh, laugh... clothes disappear..." you murmured, adopting an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression that made both of his eyebrows shoot upwards in encouragement.

The two of you burst into laughter again.

"I can tell it's starting to work," he said.

You cupped his face in your hand and drew him closer. With your lips brushing his, you whispered,

"Shhh."

Then you parted your lips ever so slightly and pulled him back into another kiss.

PART THREE: WOULD RATHER NOT SAY.

Yeah… I think that one's going to remain a secret.

It felt rather wonderful knowing Lando had been clever enough to plan the date for the day before his day off, which meant waking up exactly like this: with you beside him, your face still creased from the pillow and the faint imprint of something outlining your other cheek.

For a moment, he simply let himself be swept away by it. Was this really happening?

It was as though reality was only just beginning to catch up with him, slowly bringing back memories of the night before and everything that had happened since that fateful afternoon at the hospital, when he'd slipped his number onto the back of a contact card.

A quiet laugh escaped Lando. You nestled a little closer, still hopelessly sleepy. It was adorable.

"You should get a bit more sleep..." you murmured, your voice rough with sleep.

He brushed your hair back from your forehead before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"You go back to sleep," he murmured in return. "I'm not going anywhere."

You gave a shake of your head.

"You work so hard every day. You need to rest."

A low chuckle escaped him as he continued to stroke your hair.

"I'm used to waking up at this time.”

There was no further argument, much as you would've liked there to be. There probably could've been one, but Lando decided that the sleepy grunt you let out before letting your head fall helplessly back onto the pillow didn't exactly count as a convincing argument.

That peaceful quiet lingered for a while before the two of you finally got up and found other ways to fill the day.

Breakfast. An attempt at lunch that somehow ended with a perfectly cooked omelette and the half-finished carton of orange juice already sitting in the fridge. Then came the rather astonishing discovery that Lando had an entire cupboard overflowing with board games.

What a nerd!

That was the afternoon.

You started with Hues and Cues, and after that came a card game Lando had learned on a trip to South America, one he spent the better part of half an hour trying to teach you before you eventually gave up because it was far too difficult. Then came Uno, followed by a game of Monopoly that never seemed to end. You laughed yourself silly every single time Lando landed in jail because it happened so often it genuinely felt like a curse. Poor thing.

At one point, your brother sent you a photo to let you know they were on their way home from their trip. You held your phone up for Lando to see, and he shuffled across the rug until he was sitting beside you, smiling at the picture.

"They always send me one photo when they're heading home," you said, "and another when they actually get there." Your eyes lifted to meet his. "So I know they made it back safely."

Of course Lando remembered the story you'd told him about Theo's mum and the accident. He gave a small nod, rested his chin on your shoulder, and looked back at the photo. Theo, Marcus and Marcus's new girlfriend, Sarah.

"Does Theo know?" he asked quietly.

You nodded.

"He does. He says his mummy is the brightest star in the sky." A small smile found your lips. "He came up with that himself."

Your voice caught just a little as you spoke, though the smile never disappeared. A gentle laugh escaped Lando.

"He's a clever little boy."

"He really is." You rested your head lightly against his. "Ever since everything happened, I've been helping both of them through it. Our family's in the next town over, so they can't come over all the time."

You smiled softly.

"It's just been the three of us."

"Five now," Lando corrected, pointing first at himself, then at Sarah.

Your smile only grew.

You locked your phone, set it down on the coffee table beside the board games, then suddenly launched yourself at him, sending Lando sprawling backwards onto the rug while you landed on top of him.

"You're..." you murmured. "Ugh."

Before he could even think about answering, you kissed him instead. Lando decided that was a much better response anyway.

When Marcus got back late that evening, he headed straight to your place. He had far too much to tell you about the trip, about Theo and Sarah getting on so well, and about how happy everything had made him. He hadn't even bothered texting first. You were always home.

When he rang the doorbell, though, there wasn't a trace of you.

Naturally, he frowned and pulled out his phone to call, just to make sure you were still alive. Maybe you'd fallen asleep. Or maybe... No. He wasn't even going to think about that.

You answered on the fifth ring.

"Marcus! Hi! Are you alright? Are you guys home already?" you asked immediately, your voice carrying that unmistakable hint of guilt he'd recognise anywhere.

His hand went to the back of his head, scratching absently.

"We are. Sorry I didn't send you a picture—I wanted it to be a surprise," he replied, knocking on the door again. "Can you let me in?"

Silence.

...

...

"Ah, well..." you began awkwardly. "I... I'm not home."

Hm? That was new.

"You're not home?" Marcus glanced at his watch, one eyebrow lifting. "Oh. That's alright. I can come back tomorrow."

With that, he turned and started walking down the steps.

"Sorry," you said. "So... how was the trip?"

A smile spread across his face almost instantly.

"It was great. I think I'd rather tell you all about it in person. Theo's been dying to tell you a few things."

"I've missed you both so much! We should go to the bakery."

"Definitely," he agreed, pressing the button to unlock the car. "Actually..." He paused for a second. "Do you want to tell me where you are?"

He heard you laugh on the other end of the line, and his hand stopped halfway to the car door.

"It's actually kind of a funny story," you said. He waited. "I'm at Lando's."

The first thing that crossed Marcus's mind was that Lando was definitely a man's name. He frowned. It wasn't jealousy. It was simply that, for a very long time, you'd never mentioned being at anyone else's house.

But… Lando? Lando? Where on earth had he heard that name before?

His eyes widened.

"Lando?!" he blurted out, actually leaning forward in disbelief.

Your laugh turned lighter, bubbling into something almost childlike.

"Bye, Marcus!"

"Hey, wait a sec—"

But you'd already hung up.

Shaking his head, rubbing a hand across his forehead, Marcus couldn't help smiling. At least now he knew one thing for certain: you were happy.

Theo's birthday came around three weeks later, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Lando received the invitation.

Not long after your first date, Theo's follow-up appointment to go over the results of his blood tests had been scheduled, and the two of you showed up together. This time, Marcus came as well, though at your request, he waited outside while you took Theo in.

That day proved especially difficult for Lando because he discovered he was perhaps the worst person in the world at keeping a secret (particularly one that made him smile so much his cheeks actually hurt).

The moment you stepped through the door and Theo came running towards him, he came dangerously close to melting on the spot.

"Uncle Lando, look!" Theo beamed, his voice carrying that wide-eyed excitement only children seemed capable of. "Daddy and Auntie said I could give this to you!"

Theo held out the brightly coloured invitation, and Lando took it. His eyes first skimmed over the details before settling on the little Hulk illustrations and, just beneath them, his own name, written in a wobbly handwriting that could only have belonged to the little boy himself.

Lando immediately crouched down to Theo's height, ruffled his hair, and opened his arms, pulling him into a warm hug.

"Of course I'll be there, mate. Thank you so much for inviting me." That only made Theo hug him even tighter.

"Auntie said you can come to all my birthdays now! And Christmas! And my school plays, and..."

Someone cleared their throat above them.

It was you, looking thoroughly embarrassed while Theo happily continued revealing every thought that crossed his mind.

"Theo, I think—" you began, hoping to stop the little speech that was steadily giving everything away.

Theo tried to interrupt you, but Lando's laugh came a little faster.

"I can't promise I'll make it to absolutely everything," he told Theo, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before standing back up. "But your auntie's right. I'll get to be there for some of those things now.”

"That's so cool!" Theo exclaimed, before carrying on with another million things he simply had to say as he wandered over to the chair where he always sat at the beginning of his appointments.

Lando looked up at you.

You were blushing, and just a little shyer than the woman he remembered. It was, without question, your most adorable version.

"So..." he said, a teasing little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You want me at all the family events now, hm?"

Your eyes met his before you clicked your tongue and made your way towards your usual chair, making absolutely sure he noticed the smile you were trying to hide.

God, it took every ounce of self-control he had not to kiss you right then and there.

The appointment carried on exactly as it should. Lando went over the blood test results with both of you (Theo was perfectly healthy) and reassured his little patient that, no, he wouldn't have to go through another blood test like that for a very long time.

He walked the two of you to the door once the appointment was over. Despite the slight awkwardness of meeting Marcus for the first time after the whole misunderstanding had finally been cleared up, the two men greeted each other with a firm handshake that told Lando everything he needed to know.

Before you left, you shot him a little wink.

Yeah. Lando really did have remarkable self-control.

On the day of the party, Lando found himself in a rather curious position. He wasn't arriving as a guest.

A few hours before everything was due to begin, you'd called him and asked, How are your lungs? I think we could use an extra pair to blow up some balloons. What do you think?

For a moment, he froze.

Was this... actually alright? Were they really at the stage of their relationship where he got to help set up a child's birthday party? Well... if you were asking… Lando decided to take the risk.

As he texted back to say yes, he was already searching for his backpack, the clothes he'd be wearing to the party, and everything else he might need. There probably wouldn't be time to come back home and get changed afterwards, would there? There were suddenly far too many things to think about all at once.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he was on his way to the venue, his heart beating just a little faster than usual. It didn't finally settle until he rang the doorbell and you opened the door.

You weren't dressed up. Not even close. You were wearing a pair of pyjama shorts, an old T-shirt, and your hair was piled into the messiest little bun imaginable. You looked absolutely incredible.

"Yay, you're here! Come on!" you said, greeting him with a quick peck on the lips.

It caught him slightly off guard before you slipped your fingers through his and tugged him inside.

Hm. Alright. Lando liked this. Very, very much. His stomach was doing somersaults.

Everything about that moment felt so familiar that Lando simply stopped overthinking and threw himself into it.

Theo was everywhere at once, kicking balloons, racing around the room, and letting out little growls to make it perfectly clear that he was, in fact, the Hulk. Lando even pretended to be frightened a few times, gently bopping him on the head with a balloon, which earned a laugh from you every single time.

Marcus was there too, hanging a banner across the wall, hammering something into place, and somehow alternating between blowing up balloons, being rescued by the Hulk, and putting up decorations. Between the three of them, they somehow managed to get everything done.

Sarah arrived about an hour later in the bakery's delivery van. The three of you went to help her unload everything, and it was the first time Lando was properly introduced to her, even though he already recognised her from the bakery.

What a bizarre coincidence.

Cakes, sweets, savoury party food... everything was finally in place.

Lando had never realised just how much work went into putting together a children's birthday party.

"Tired?" you asked, walking over to him and slipping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest.

A smile appeared on Lando's face almost instantly. He wrapped an arm around you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"A little," he admitted. "But it was really nice." He hugged you a little tighter. "Thanks for asking me to come."

You nodded, your smile growing.

"Thanks for coming," you replied, tilting your head back so you could look at him properly. "Come back to my place with me so we can get ready. Sound good?”

He had no reason to say no.

Lando leaned down to steal one more kiss, this time a soft peck against your lips, before letting you slip from his arms so the two of you could finally make yourselves presentable for the party, which was due to begin before long.

The party was an absolute success.

Lando even ran into two of his little patients, classmates of Theo's, who looked thoroughly confused to find Dr. Lando there. They accepted it surprisingly quickly, though, because the entertainer dressed as the Hulk had just arrived, and that was infinitely more exciting than anything else.

You took what felt like a million photos throughout the afternoon, including several of Lando almost dropping whipped cream onto his own clothes and ending up with a smear of it across his nose.

By the end of it all, the two of you were sitting side by side at one of the tables, your fingers intertwined beneath it, watching Sarah straighten Theo's outfit while Marcus looked at the two of them with absolute adoration.

Lando noticed you biting the inside of your cheek, as though you were trying to hold something back.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

Your gaze dropped to the table, and a small, guilty laugh escaped you before you looked back at him.

"I don't know... I think it's..." You took a slow breath. "A mixture of things."

Your eyes drifted back to the little family in front of you.

"I love seeing Marcus and Theo this happy." A soft smile spread across your face. "Look at the way that giant's looking at Sarah."

Lando laughed under his breath, nodding in agreement. Marcus's love wasn't exactly subtle.

"But?" he prompted gently.

You swallowed.

"Ah... it's a bit silly." You smiled, already trying to defend yourself. "Don't think I'm always like this, because I'm really not."

He waited.

"Ever since Theo's mum passed away, I sort of... took some responsibilities onto myself." You glanced sideways at him. "That's why you thought what you thought."

The look you gave him carried just the slightest hint of teasing, even if every word was true. Lando closed his eyes for a brief moment, smiling to himself before giving a small nod.

"Fair enough."

"It was just the three of us, like I told you." Your voice softened. "And now..." You looked back at Marcus, Sarah, and Theo. "...now there's someone else to take care of them.”

Lando let his thumb slowly stroke the back of your hand, carefully weighing his words as he listened to everything you were saying.

"I know I'm not going to stop being important," you added. "But... my heart feels just a little bit heavier.”

He narrowed his eyes.

"You're jealous," he teased.

"Oh, shut up," you grumbled playfully, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, and Lando pulled you a little closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

"It's silly. I told you," you murmured.

He shook his head.

"It's not silly at all," he said softly before continuing. "You lost someone important too. Not just Marcus and Theo. She was your family."

His thumb continued to stroke the back of your hand.

"Then you stepped into whatever spaces needed filling alongside your brother, doing everything you could to give Theo the best childhood possible in the middle of all that grief. You became such a strong, completely selfless source of support."

His voice softened even further.

"They're your family.”

For a moment, you looked up at him, but your eyes filled with tears so quickly that the only thing you could do was hide your face against him again. Your shoulders trembled. Lando knew you were crying, so he simply held you.

One minute passed. Then another.

By the time you finally calmed down and took a deep breath, he smiled to himself.

"Well..." he began. "Lucky for you, a ridiculously handsome doctor came along and rescued you from all that pain. Proper prince on a white horse, really."

Your sob turned, almost instantly, into laughter.

Lando laughed with you as he gently wiped away the tears from your cheeks, and before he knew it, you were pulling him impossibly close again. Somehow… Everything felt absolutely perfect.

"Where's this prince on a white horse, then?" you asked, doing nothing more than teasing him.

"Oi!" he protested, placing a dramatically offended hand against his chest.

Still laughing, still smiling far too much, you leaned in and captured his lips in the gentlest kiss imaginable.

"Dad! Sarah! Look! Uncle Lando loves Auntiiiiie!"

Theo's voice cut straight through the moment, followed immediately by Marcus bursting into shameless laughter and a thoroughly horrified Sarah.

The two of you didn't pull apart straight away. Instead, you kept your eyes closed, gently shaking your head.

"That boy really has a way with words..." you murmured, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

Lando laughed, carefully tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

"So proud of him..."

And that was exactly how the day came to an end.

A birthday party, family, one wonderfully mischievous little boy... and everything exactly as it should be.

It didn't take long for everyone at the hospital to find out either. They already knew Lando had been seeing someone, they just had no idea who she was. So when he showed up with you to the staff's happy hour the following week, Oscar looked at the two of you with one eyebrow raised while Max was the first to speak.

"Aren't you Theo's guardian?"

The two of you, being the pair of idiots you were, simply shrugged and burst into laughter.

"My God..." Oscar muttered, staring at Lando in disbelief. "And here I was thinking you'd finally moved on..."

Even so, he got to his feet, offered you his hand, and greeted you with a broad smile.

Lando, meanwhile, was desperately trying to warn both his friends — and, preferably, the rest of the table as well — not to embarrass him. George, naturally, ignored every silent plea.

"This bloke spent the entire year one step away from kissing the ground you walk on, you know."

"Oh, so you're the one!" Nico exclaimed, getting up to shake your hand. "I work the night shift in Paediatrics. You were basically a legend to me.”

You looked completely delighted, listening to all of them and joining in with the conversation while Lando's face grew redder by the second.

"Guys, come on... it wasn't exactly like that..." he tried to protest.

Gabriel cut him off, launching into the story of one particular day that… No. Lando didn't even want to hear it.

Another round of drinks arrived, the food you'd ordered was brought over, and at one point you excused yourself to use the bathroom leaving him alone in the lions' den. Everyone behaved themselves right up until you disappeared around the corner.

"She's Theo's aunt, by the way," Lando said to Max, fishing a little cheese bite from the sharing platter.

"Mate..." Max said, taking a sip of his beer. "That's actually unbelievable. How did this even happen?"

"Oh..." Lando smiled, shrugging as he took a sip of his bright orange drink. "My charm. You know how it is."

Oscar, who'd been listening the entire time, burst into laughter, while Max had to cover his face with one hand. Lando didn't even bother pretending not to laugh himself, though he wasn't about to offer any further explanation.

"What'd I miss?" you asked as you returned, slipping back into your seat.

"They were asking how we ended up together," he replied with an innocent shrug.

"You told them you thought my brother and I—"

His eyes went wide. Without a second's hesitation, he pressed his index finger gently against your lips.

"That secret stays between us. Shhh."

You laughed, taking his hand away from your face.

"Alright. I promise no one will ever find out about your little misunderstanding.”

The evening carried on, and like every moment the two of you shared, it became another one in a long line of precious memories. And, of course, it wasn't the last time you went out with his friends. Eventually, they became yours too.

You met Lando's family, who adored you from the very beginning and never once made you feel like an outsider. You became one of their girls, almost like another daughter, another sister. Soon enough, the two families were spending time together as well, and naturally, Cisca adored Theo as though he were her own grandson.

It took Lando two years of dating before he asked you to marry him.

By then, the two of you had already been living together for a year and a half — a decision some people thought you'd made a little too quickly, but one that had always felt completely right to both of you.

Now, with a well-earned holiday finally ahead of you, Lando had taken you to Italy.

At some point, during one of the countless nights you'd spent talking before falling asleep, you'd casually mentioned that it had always been your dream to go there.

He'd remembered.

And one ordinary evening, after coming home from work, he'd surprised you with two plane tickets waiting in his hands.

It was on one knee, upon the stone terrace of a hanging garden overlooking the Amalfi Coast, that Lando held up the little velvet box.

His speech went rather poorly. Not because he hadn't thought about what he wanted to say, but because he couldn't quite decide whether he was supposed to laugh or cry. For one long moment, you said nothing. You didn't jump. You didn't squeal. You simply froze.

Your chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, and just before Lando had the chance to panic, you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulled him up from the ground, and kissed him with an enthusiasm that was, admittedly, entirely inappropriate for such a peaceful place.

So what?

"Yes." A kiss. "Yes." Another kiss. "Yes!"

His heart impossibly full, Lando let out a disbelieving laugh as he gently slipped the ring onto your finger. Only then did the first tear slowly roll down your cheek, just as the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen spread across your face.

Despite how long it had taken… Despite everything that had come before… Despite one spectacular misunderstanding… Lando knew he wouldn't have traded any of it for the world.

His best friend. And now… For the rest of your lives.

"I'm going to be a wife now!" you said, your eyebrows shooting up as that tiny little detail suddenly occurred to you.

Lando let out a quiet groan and dropped his head onto your shoulder.

"To the right person this time," you murmured.

A smile spread across his face. Then his eyes drifted to the ring sparkling on your finger...

...and his smile only grew.