#perceverance.fics

The loud mew in front of Oscar's door almost startles him off his massage bench. His first instinct is to meow back, weirdly enough. He gets up when he hears scratching at the door, and he's barely even opened it when the cat squeezes through and dashes into the room.

"Oh," Oscar says dumbly.

He knows that fur pattern. Probably better than his own. He's spend enough hours staring at it, wondering what it must be like to be so open about who you are.

The cat jumps up to where Oscar had been sitting, and hides—God.

Lando hides in the pile of clothes Oscar left on the other end of the bench.

Oscar didn't know how to comprehend Lando even being here. What the fuck is he supposed to do with the knowledge, the visual proof that Lando is currently hiding in his clothes?

Lando makes a soft noise, like he's hurt, and Oscar can't have that.

"Hey," he says quietly, approaching the pile of clothes slowly. Now that he's closer, he's able to see it's shaking. Lando's shaking. "Hey, it's okay. Can you come out, please?"

Lando makes that noise again, shorter. Pushes himself even further into the pile. Oscar sighs.

"I'll give you a blanket." Nothing. "Do you want me to turn off the lights?" Lando's tail twitches. Oscar isn't sure if that's really a yes, but he goes to turn off the lights anyway. There's still light coming through the small window, but it's not as glaring as the overhead LEDs were. He also puts the Do Not Disturb sign on his door, even though it makes him feel, well. Stupid. Ridiculous. Like he's trying to hide something. He reminds himself he's doing it for Lando.

He grabs the blanket on his way back over to the bench and carefully sits down next to Lando; far enough to give him space, close enough for him to know Oscar's there. His tail stops for a moment before swishing around even wilder than before.

"Lando," Christ, it's really Lando, isn't it? He perks up at the sound of his name, Oscar can tell despite the layers of fabric he's hiding in, "please, um. Please come here. So I can make sure you're alright."

Again, Lando doesn't move for the longest time. He's still shaking, though not as much anymore. It painfully reminds Oscar of how Mae used to hide in his room when she had first started shifting, digging her little kitten body into the corner of Oscar's bed, head buried under Oscar's pillow, shaking like a leaf even minutes after their mum was done vacuuming.

"C'mon," he encourages Lando again, softly, "I've got the blanket. You can still hide."

Two, three seconds pass. Lando's head pops out of the heap of clothes, the fur at the back of his head all messed up. He's dug his way through the sleeve of Oscar's worn team kit, seems to notice the same moment Oscar does, because he starts wriggling backwards, his tail twitching erratically.

"Hey, hey. Let me help you," Oscar says, already reaching out. Lando stills, staring at him, pupils blown wide. Really, Oscar's in his childhood bedroom again, sitting next to Mae as she shakes and shakes, helpless and on the verge of tears with how bad he felt for her. At least he's grown out of that part.

Once Oscar has freed Lando from the sleeve, he starts inching over, eyes still fixed on Oscar.

"It's okay," Oscar tells him, "you can come here." He unfolds the blanket, lifts it up to show Lando he can hide, which seems to be what he needed, because he almost throws himself into Oscar's lap. More like on his lap, because he's way too big to fit his entire body onto Oscar's thighs. He certainly tries to, though.

"It's okay," Oscar finds himself repeating, petting Lando's head, but no, he really wants to squeeze himself into Oscar's lap. "Here, wait, hold on." Lando isn't listening; he just makes a sad noise, digging his hind paws into Oscar's leg, so Oscar puts the blanket down and lifts Lando up to rearrange himself into sitting cross-legged.

"There," he says when he puts Lando back down besides him. Lando just about leaps into his lap, burying his nose in the fabric crease of Oscar's bent knee. Okay, well, that's. Okay.

The thing is. Oscar knew, has known for years, that Lando's a Maine Coon. Knows that Maine Coons are the biggest domestic cats. So he's always also known that Lando's shifted form is pretty big. But it's just something else entirely to have a huge cat in your lap that also just, like, happens to be your teammate. In distress. Apparently finding comfort in digging his face into nooks of your body. Which is fine. Oscar's completely fine. And totally not freaking out. Nope.

The extra set of ears sprouting from between his hair tells a different story.

He decides to pointedly ignore them and instead focuses on gently draping the blanket over Lando, who seems to have stopped shaking. Which is something, at least.

"You're okay," Oscar tells him quietly as he tentatively runs a hand over Lando's fur. He doesn't seem to mind, so Oscar continues carefully, watching out for any and all movement. But Lando doesn't stir. At all. All he does, after a few quiet, unmoving minutes, is start purring.

"There you go," Oscar whispers, more to himself. He ignores the sore feeling in his arm for the sake of keeping the purring going. At some point, Lando lifts his head out of his knee and rests it on top of it instead.

"You want air?" Oscar lifts the side of the blanket, but Lando turns his head to glare at him from underneath the fabric. No air then.

It takes time, but eventually, Lando wriggles around just enough to poke his head out from underneath the blanket, his head a heavy weight on Oscar's hip bone.

"Hey," he says resourcefully. Lando slowly blinks up at him. Oscar is helpless to do anything but blink back the same. "Feeling better?" he asks. Lando just blinks again. Oscar answers in kind.

"I know today sucked," he whispers. "It's gonna be okay though, yeah?"

Lando digs his paws into Oscar's stomach as he stretches, then yawns, then frees himself from the blanket and hops off Oscar's lap to sit in front of the door and stare at him.

"You wanna leave?" Stare. "Okay, you wanna leave." Lando mrrp-s when Oscar gets up, pressing against his legs when he closes in. Once the door is open, he dashes out just like he came dashing in, disappearing into his room a few meters over.

"There you are!" The sound of Jon's voice fills Oscar with horror and embarrassment, and he slams his door close faster than he's able to process it.

What the fuck. Like it's illegal to hang out with his teammate.

It's just that it feels illegal when the guy you've had a crush on for the longest time suddenly chooses to find comfort in your lap, of all places.