Did You See The Moon Tonight?
The two-seater couch felt too small to contain Lando's increasing excitement over every game point he kept collecting. Oscar dejectedly fussed over his game controller for making him lose points.
"Don't think this is working as it should." He frantically pressed buttons, only to have no positive impact on his performance.
Lando didn't buy it at all. He immediately got offended by the implication that his wins so far weren't legit. He scooted closer and took Oscar's controller to inspect it himself.
He leaned way too far into Oscar's personal space while checking it over. Their fingers were brushing, and if you were the fly on the wall, you would know their breaths were getting hitched too. A moment later, he found absolutely nothing wrong with it. Confused, he looked up and noticed Oscar trying to subtly move away from him.
Lando immediately straightened up with the eyes of a very sorry puppy. "Sorry. Did I make you uneasy? I swear I didn't mean to."
Oscar's inner polite cat jumped into action.
"Oh no, no, no. It's not you."
He quickly pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head.
"Sorry. It's just... I haven't washed my hair, and it stinks. I can't really wash it properly. Can't raise my arms that high up. It hurts."
He started apologising immediately, then lowered his voice like a child admitting he hadn't done his homework.
Lando sat there looking at his cute neighbour with the heartiest eyes possible; don’t know if that’s even possible. Completely endeared.
Meanwhile, Oscar refused to make eye contact.
The game controller was long gone, dropped onto the carpet near his feet, while his fingers were awkwardly pulling the strings of his hoodie.
"Couldn't ask Jason yesterday. He couldn't stop by for more than a few minutes." He went on, explaining, almost rambling.
Lando cut him off before he could continue the apology speech.
"We're athletes. Athletes sweat. Sweat, baby. Ki-ki-ki, ra! You know?"
He attempted a dramatic imitation of Daniel Ricciardo, expecting Oscar to know his fellow Aussie’s antics. But the social media hermit Oscar sadly did not recognise the reference. He was, however, completely trapped by the sheer silliness of the delivery.
Lando was pleased with himself and his efforts to elicit a laugh from him. Apparently, that had become his life's purpose.
He fully turned towards Oscar on the couch, folding one leg beneath himself, making himself comfortable. "I get it. Side strains are no joke."
The gesture kind of eased Oscar too, not getting judged but finding someone who understood the pain and stress of severe sports injuries.
"And you're with exactly the right person at exactly the right time." Lando dramatically rather proudly, pointed at himself.
"I am basically a master of refreshing stinky hair. Years of fighting champagne-soaked hair."
Lando jumped to his feet.
"Get up. You are the first and maybe the last customer of Lando Norris Hair Spa."
He bowed low, head inclined and an arm folded across his stomach, as though greeting royalty. Half grinning, yet fully committed to his role as a humble salon expert, he held out his hand for Oscar to take.
Oscar smiled broadly. Most of the insecurity about his allegedly terrible hair had already evaporated.
He placed his princess-like delicate hand into Lando's big, assuring paw. Lando pulled him up effortlessly.
He'd noticed Oscar fighting through the ache every time he had to get up from a couch, a car seat, a dining chair, or any position that involved resting for too long. Also, that Oscar would quietly wince or groan in his pain, but would never ask for any assistance.
The kitchen sink was the biggest one in the apartment, so naturally it became the 'salon'.
Lando dragged over a dining chair, draped a towel over the backrest, and stepped aside with an unnecessarily grand gesture.
"Wow. That's some arrangement."
"Told ya. I'm an expert."
Far too pleased with himself, Lando helped him settle into the chair and guided his head towards the sink. He didn’t even think about how casually he touched him. One hand settled briefly on Oscar's shoulder. The other slipped behind his head to support his neck while he adjusted his position.
Lando was completely focused on his role as a haircare professional. Oscar, unfortunately, was aware of every single touch. Every gentle touch seemed to travel down his spine.
The moment he leaned back and instinctively closed his eyes, he regretted agreeing to this.
Not because it wasn't nice.
That was exactly the concern.
Lando grinned when he noticed Oscar relax beneath his hands. What he didn't notice was how Oscar was gripping both sides of the chair's seat like his life depended on it. Or that he'd rolled both lips inward, desperately holding on to any sound that might accidentally escape.
Whatever was happening to him right now was staying locked inside. Otherwise, he was determined to be swallowed by the chair on the spot.
"Sir, I hope the water temperature is alright." Lando continued roleplaying.
Oscar only managed a small hum of approval. His lips remained firmly shut. Agreeing to this had been a mistake. Maybe a very pleasant mistake.
What Oscar hadn't realised yet was that his brain had somehow forgotten how to say no to Lando Norris. Whatever Lando suggested, he followed. This otherwise very opinionated and stubborn Aussie never had any questions for Lando. No further processing needed. As if some invisible switch flipped every time Lando spoke.
Meanwhile, Lando's fingers were already working shampoo through his hair. Entirely too committed, Lando carefully massaged Oscar's scalp, since he was aiming for five stars or nothing. His fingers moved confidently through Oscar's soft hair, applying pressure exactly where it felt right while still being surprisingly gentle. He was pretty adamant about ensuring all the nerves in the head were massaged and all the stress points relieved. His fingers didn't shy away from reaching the sensitive areas, whether it was behind his neck or his earlobes. He tried to see Oscar’s face to gauge if he was feeling okay. But there was nothing but tightly shut eyes with a poker face.
“You are gonna sleep like a baby tonight.” He tried to kill the awkward silence that was now creeping in. Oscar still hadn’t given him anything. Way too scared of nothing but Lando’s fingers releasing pressure from all the points on his earlobes.
"Do you reckon I’ll become a haircare specialist after retirement?"
Lando tried to joke, probing him again.
Oscar's brain immediately scolded, “Stop being rude, dude. Open your eyes, say something. He won't bite. This looks way more suspicious.”
A lesson learnt, your brain isn't always right.
Oscar opened his eyes with a smile, mostly to assure Lando that he was not a snobby customer.
But this time it was Lando who malfunctioned.
The sudden soft smile from Oscar distracted him just enough for a bit of soapy water to slip down Oscar's forehead and straight into his left eye.
Lando gasped in horror. Oscar winced and immediately squeezed his eye shut.
"Oh my God. Are you okay?" Lando leaned over him instantly, looming over his eye, trying to inspect the damage.
"Would you mind turning around? We can rinse your eyes first. I'm so sorry. Let me see."
The panic in his rambling only made things worse. Oscar opened his other eye for a second.
That turned out to be another mistake. Lando's concerned face was suddenly far too close for his little heart.
He shut that eye as fast as humanly possible.
But not faster than Lando, who had already grabbed a fresh towel, soaked one corner under the tap, and was hovering it over his burning left eye, desperately trying to fix the damage he'd caused.
Oscar's brain completely short-circuited.
No further thinking was possible at that moment; he reached up and grabbed Lando by the wrist to take the towel.
It took him a second to realise where his hand was when he felt the hesitation under his grip.
Tiny one. But a little fumbling, or maybe trembling, was surely there.
Meanwhile, in the same second, Lando froze. The salon expert persona suddenly was no longer to be found.
His words faltered. "Hmm... oh... uh..."
He attempted to straighten up, but couldn't quite manage it while Oscar’s hold was still pretty strong before he gently let go.
For once in his life, Lando Norris was struggling to find words.
Then he defaulted to humour.
"Well... there goes my retirement plan of opening a hair spa."
He looked genuinely mournful with a sad pout.
"Can I at least get three stars for care and damage control?"
Oscar laughed at the theatrics.
Inspiration: The Beyblade Championship and maybe or may not be Kinn and Porsche 😉
Tagging you all, lovelies, once again; don't know if a reblog would let you know:
@igfirecrotch , @artist173, @userln1 , @isthisf1fan , @boredrxm , @beachwritesf1, @nanshan-237, @ssentimentals, @kaymar814, @oscatmeowstri, @pppuri , @softosc, @prokrastinartiya, @gwenie-creates , @nowtwopplaremadatme, @blue-eyes-incognito, @wanderingblindly, @nyoomfruits, @kilomikealphagolf @papaya-gremlins, @minusninelives, @eightyonefour, @23landoscar, @cx-boxbox @slugesh @goingxmissing @wdclando @passengerprincipessa @lellabellas @mctwinkdom @landoom, @vroomies-814 @f1incorrects @4ever-eighty-one @orangepavlova @fishrri @ineffable-swiftie23 @darkcoffeespresso @fastarcticgypsy @ace-margo @nottheinnit @sinnersnightmistymorning @perhapspspsps @nokhd @saylercreates @kenngry88 @livingdeadlove @f1puppylove @badassusername @atelophobicself @emmaepage481
