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“Goodnight, Osc.”
“It’s ten in the morning,” comes the fond reply.
Lando yawns and snuggles into his duvet as his eyelids droop. The image of his boyfriend on his phone becomes blurrier and blurrier, but he still mumbles, “All the more reason for you to be asleep, babe.”
A small chuckle filters through his phone, followed by a beep when the video call is hung up from Oscar’s end.
It’s hard, this long distance thing, harder when they met in an online space for a shared interest in Formula 1, of all things, three years ago. Lando was a bit too quick in developing feelings for the guy that takes up residence in his phone (and in his mind all the time), and he really took a leap of faith confessing to Oscar after a year of knowing each other.
Hell, they’ve never even met in person, but Lando is well aware that he’s too far gone for some guy who lives in a different corner of the world, about ten time zones away.
He’s never claimed to be good at counting, but he knows that he would like the distance between himself and Oscar to be at a solid zero.
Early classes are a curse.
Firmly of the belief that an early start means an early finish, and that that is more ideal than any alternative, Lando drags himself out of bed, drags himself through his morning routine and breakfast, drags himself through so much that he could practically star on RuPaul’s show next season.
It’s not easy, being so close to graduation and knowing that the only thing ahead of him is more studying. Ultimately, Lando would like to have a small, comfortable house, either here or in Australia—it makes no difference to him, as long as it has Oscar in it too. And maybe a cat.
For now, he’s stuck at university, drinking tea in a cramped flat just off campus, with one Max Fewtrell belting out ballads in the shower.
It’s only after Lando forces himself to sit through his classes that he opens Discord. Nobody is allowed to judge him for using Discord to communicate with his boyfriend—he also uses WhatsApp to talk to him on occasion, if that matters at all—when others are still out on dating apps trying and failing to land a long-term relationship. He knows he shouldn’t be so excited to see that he received anything at all from Oscar, but seeing that he has unread messages still makes him happy.
As expected, there are a few messages and a couple photos, all of which have Lando going through the five stages of grief and numerous other emotions in the span of seconds.
“Jesus Christ, mate, why’d you feel the need to send me a picture of that spider?” is the first thing he asks as soon as Oscar picks up. Asks? Screeches, more like.
And Oscar, in a flat voice, replies, “You’re my boyfriend, which means you have to suffer with me. Tell me about your day?”
“Ugh, it was boring. Actually, I need to make a trip to Tesco ‘cause I ran out of stroopwafels, so you’re coming with me.” Lando rifles through his bag for his earbuds and shoves them into his ears after spending no fewer than two minutes untangling the wires. “So during tutorials, we had to get into groups, and you know how much I hate playing nice and patient when others are doing the bare minimum, and…”
Oscar never interrupts Lando whenever he goes on his long tangents, instead humming every once in a while to let Lando know that he’s still there and occasionally offering a “that sucks” or “ew” out of sympathy. One thing about Lando Norris is that he is a slut for active listening. Quite frankly, it’s one of the most romantic things that someone can do for him.
“Oh, I met a cat this morning,” Oscar says nonchalantly, like that is not the most exciting news ever, and right when Lando is chucking stroopwafels into his shopping basket too. The next package misses the basket entirely.
“Oscar, you better send me photos right now!”
Oscar’s laughter tickles Lando’s ears pleasantly. “I saved them just in case,” he admits. “Knew you probably needed a pick-me-up.”
Setting his basket down for a moment, Lando has to take a couple deep breaths to stop himself from squealing out loud and then proposing marriage to his long-distance boyfriend in the middle of a fucking Tesco.
It’s hard sometimes… most of the time.
Fucking time. Lando firmly believes that time is just a social construct, meant to keep him and Oscar even further apart. He supposes that there are small mercies granted by being somewhat of a morning person while his boyfriend snoozes half of his day away. More often than not, it results in Lando scolding Oscar and telling him to go to bed earlier because Oscar always makes time for him on top of his heavy course load and preparing for exams.
Lando would happily sacrifice a day of talking and phone sex if it means Oscar sleeps at a normal hour for once.
“Hypothetically, I mean,” he says to Max, spinning around in his chair. “I mean, yeah, I’d like him to get enough sleep, but what am I meant to do when he’s not online?”
Max grunts at him, definitely fed up with his antics after three years of sharing the same living space. “Get your guy to move here, so you can go fulfill all of your homoerotic dreams by living with him and leaving me the fuck alone.”
Lando pouts at him and spins around one more time before mumbling, “I don’t know if Oscar would do that, though. He’s, like, very proud to be Australian.”
“He can be a proud Australian in the UK too.”
“I don’t think it works like that.”
Max makes a non-committal sound and resumes typing up whatever assignment he’s working on. Meanwhile, Lando migrates to his bed to continue rotting away because he might as well be comfortable while doing that.
“Do you think Oscar would like it if I started an OnlyFans?”
Max’s eyebrow twitches.
Despite only being able to talk to each other through their phones or computers, their relationship is never boring.
Oscar refuses to spam Lando with messages while he might be asleep or in class, but Lando… Lando has no qualms against sending him every cat picture or video, every Formula 1 meme, every cricket or engineering-related post he has no hopes of understanding that he comes across on any social media platform, knowing that Oscar is not so easily distracted by unread notifications. He especially likes sending the ones with two cats cuddling and captioning them with “us”.
It’s probably annoying, but Oscar has never once complained about it, and he takes his time using the little emoji reactions to react to each one, so Lando concludes that his boyfriend must be grinning stupidly at his phone after opening yet another link. Because that’s what Lando does whenever he gets the rare “us” captioned cat video sent to him.
“You’re really cute, babe,” Lando cooes. The tiny Oscar on his phone rolls his eyes and quirks a smile. “That otter video- ahhh.”
“I’m not cute,” Oscar denies, shaking his head. Lando wants to reach into his phone to play with his fluffy hair. “You, on the other hand…”
Lando wiggles happily under his covers, secretly thankful his flatmate fucked off to his girlfriend’s place for the evening. He’ll never live down Max making fun of how absolutely whipped he is for Oscar.
“You’re also ridiculously easy to please.”
“Oi!” Lando exclaims, narrowing his eyes at his phone. He sits up a little, and his duvet slides down from where it was previously tucked around his shoulders. “That is not a bad thing, thank you very much.”
A familiar look crosses Oscar’s face. “Yeah? You comfortable there?”
Lando feels a tingle at the base of his spine. By now, he’s well-acquainted with his boyfriend’s uncanny ability to turn what began as an innocent video call into something decidedly less innocent, and he only has himself to blame for not putting a shirt on after his shower. Whoops.
Pretending he has no idea what Oscar wants, he murmurs, “Mhm. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.”
“Oscar,” Lando whines. He widens his eyes a little because his man is so weak for that kind of thing.
“You wanna show me how easy to please you are, baby?” Oscar asks, accented voice washing over Lando like a tidal wave. “Go ahead. Touch yourself for me.”
Moaning softly, Lando does as he’s told, angling his phone to give his boyfriend an unobstructed view of his chest as he trails the fingertips of his other hand between his pecs down to his navel.
“Play with your nipples,” Oscar instructs. There’s a breathy quality to his voice now, the one that indicates he isn’t totally unaffected. “I’d spend so much time playing with your tits if I was there.”
“You- oh, wish you were here. Want your mouth on me so bad.” Lando sucks on his bottom lip to muffle his whimpering. Oscar tuts disapprovingly at him.
“None of that, pretty. Wanna hear you.”
Lando’s legs fall apart so easily as warmth floods through him at the praise. He slides his underwear off and flings them in the direction of the closet.
“Let me see you,” Oscar says, and Lando obligingly props his phone up on his pillow before sitting back on his heels in front of it.
It’s obscene, his erect cock curving towards his abdomen between smooth, tan thighs. All of him on display for Oscar to hungrily devour from his own bed on the other side of the world.
“God, you look delicious,” Oscar tells him, pleased. “Can’t believe I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”
“Oscar.”
“Show me how you get yourself off, baby.”
Lando throws his head back as he strokes his cock, moaning unabashedly when he thumbs the spot beneath the head. Oscar encourages him in low tones, occasionally letting out a noise of his own. Boldly sucking two of his own fingers into his mouth, Lando gets them wet and dripping with his saliva before turning around and glancing over his shoulder to make sure Oscar’s eyes haven’t left him. Of course they haven’t. They’re practically glued to his figure. Have been this entire time.
The moment he slips his fingers between his arsecheeks and toys with his rim, not quite pushing past it, he comes with a shout.
“Jesus Christ.”
Feeling quite satisfied, Lando lies on his belly and kicks his feet in the air while languidly watching Oscar get himself off with steady strokes of his hand. The cum drying on his belly is a bit uncomfortable, but he can also barely move at the moment.
“Mm, you’re so hot, Osc,” he says. Cheeky is Lando’s default setting after mind-blowing phone sex because he did that. Oscar came because of him.
If only they could have actual, physical sex too, but Lando refuses to think too much about that, or he’ll spiral into another fit of yearning for his boyfriend. He stares at Oscar’s image on his phone instead and sighs wistfully.
“I wish I could be there with you too,” Oscar murmurs because he can read Lando’s mind too damn easily. “Cuddle with you since you like that sort of thing.”
“We can be like those otters,” Lando responds, blinking back tears, “and hold hands and stuff.”
“And hold hands and stuff,” Oscar agrees. “You’d get so sick of me.”
“No way. I like you too much.” Like doesn’t quite encapsulate how much Lando feels about Oscar, but he wants to save the other word for when they meet because they will meet.
“Alright, if you say so. Sleep well, Lando.”
Everything has to get worse before it can get better, doesn’t it? Kind of like when Lando’s favorite Formula 1 driver DNFs one race and then ends up on the podium during the next.
Lando barely has time to talk to Oscar during exam season, and Oscar, who is absolutely perfect, understands and sends him cute GIFs wishing him good luck. Of course, Lando will do the same when it’s Oscar’s turn because his exams must be at least ten times harder than his own.
Then again, Oscar has always been somewhat of a better student—the thought of going into a STEM-related field makes Lando shudder in fear.
And all too soon, Lando is being handed a whole fucking diploma.
“I’m one degree hotter, baby!” he crows to his boyfriend the morning after his graduation ceremony. “And you will be too in a couple weeks.”
Oscar laughs at him, and Lando can only imagine what he looks like at the moment. Probably a bit greasy from too much time spent buried in a textbook and practice exams and not enough time in the shower. Lando would still kiss him though.
“Ah, help me, I’m burning alive just by being on the phone with such a hot bloke,” Oscar replies dryly.
“Oscar!”
“Yeah?”
Lando exhales softly. “Are you proud of me?”
“So proud, baby.” Oscar’s voice is gentle. “And before you ask, just because you took a gap year and failed a course doesn’t make your achievement any less impressive. You got there in the end, and that’s all that matters. Finished the race or whatever.”
“You’re so sweet, Osc. Ahhh, I should let you get back to your… whatever it is you’re revising for.”
“Mm, you’re probably right. Urgh,” Oscar groans. “Send me more cat videos while I suffer?”
“Anything for you!”
Lando thought he made it out of his not-so-little pocket of misery when he graduated.
Boy, was he so wrong.
“Hey, get up, you muppet.”
Lando only covers his head with his pillow. Hopefully Max would get the idea that he wants to be left alone to stew. It’s the middle of July, and he should be out somewhere on vacation or spending time with his family in Bristol at the very least, but all that he has been doing is rotting away in bed and wondering when he’ll get another message from Oscar.
For fuck’s sake, he feels like he’s been tossed back in time, and now he is left waiting for correspondence from his husband, who’s fucked off to war or something.
“I see that he’s fucking online,” Lando mutters into his mattress. He hopes that it'll swallow him whole. “So why won’t he reply to my texts?”
“No idea, but you better get your skinny arse out of bed before I physically drag you out of it. Aarav’s already waiting outside.”
“The hell?”
Max curses at him. “No time for questions. Just go with the plan, mate.”
“I would, but you won’t even tell me what this ‘plan’ of yours is,” Lando complains. “Am I being kidnapped? I’ll go willingly as long as you let me keep my phone.”
It takes about ten minutes for him to roll out of bed and put on proper clothes. Brushing his teeth uses up almost all of his energy, and Max forces him to eat a banana on the way out.
His entire friend group is waiting in Aarav’s car, and he still has no idea what’s going on until-
“Oh my God, why are we at Silverstone?” Lando shrieks.
“That’s meant to be a rhetorical question, I hope.”
“Well, yes, but-” He almost trips over the rolling suitcase Max nudges in front of him. “What?”
From a little ways ahead, Ria calls out, “Don’t worry about it! It wasn’t actually our idea.”
Lando helplessly follows his friends into the hotel, dazed and pinching himself every three seconds. Despite being a Formula 1 fan since forever ago, he’s never actually been to a race before. Therefore, he must be dreaming.
And if it’ll distract him from his boyfriend ignoring his messages for the past month, then he’ll take it. He’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Lando finds out the hard way that the whole surprise isn’t enough of a distraction at all. All throughout dinner with his friends and the entirety of the next day, he keeps sneaking glances at his phone, sighing whenever he sees that there are no new messages waiting for him. He feels guilty about it because he’s meant to be here with his friends, not lamenting over his radio silent boyfriend, but he doesn’t notice the sympathetic and knowing glances that the others exchange.
He tries to cheer up by the first free practice, he really does. In fact, he even demands that Max holds onto his phone, so he can try and focus on what he’s here for.
And seeing the cars on track truly brightens Lando’s mood. He watches in awe, practically vibrating with excitement, and he quickly forgets about being a sad lump.
“I wish I could call Oscar and show him all this,” he mumbles to himself. There goes any and all progress he’s made. “D’you think he’s trying to hint that he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore?”
Max looks panicked for the first time. Ever. “Christ, Lando, no. Why would you think that?”
“Well… maybe he’s fed up with me. I can be a lot.”
“Just- no. Believe me, mate. He’s madly in love with you. He’s probably occupied with preparing for, uh, graduate studies or something.”
Lando sighs and looks toward the track again. “Right. Sure. Whatever.”
This time, the glances his friends exchange are more concerned about him than anything. During the entirety of the elevator ride up to their hotel rooms, Max furiously types something on his phone.
Lando musters up a smile and bids his friends goodnight.
Come morning, he is rudely awakened by someone knocking on his door. Blurry-eyed and still sleepy around the edges, he checks the clock on the bedside table, frowning when he sees it’s barely seven. Quickly tugging on a shirt and shorts, he shuffles to the door, ready to tell off whoever is disturbing his much needed beauty sleep.
“Mate, what do you think you’re doing this ear-“
“Lando.”
He takes a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Fuck.
What the fuck. Whaaaat the fucking fuck.
Lando rubs his eyes, convinced he’s still asleep. This dream must be shaping up nicely because Oscar is standing in the doorway of his hotel room, looking at him with warmth in his eyes that he has only seen on video call. And that’s not even possible because Oscar is in Australia, still ignoring him.
“You’re not dreaming, I promise,” Dream Oscar tells him because of course he can read Lando's mind when it's obviously where he is at the moment, but his voice is so much nicer in person. In Lando's dream. Actually, he looks much nicer in person too. Solid, for one.
“No, no, I’m definitely dreaming. There’s no way.” Lando’s rambling now, and his wrist is beginning to bruise with how much he’s been pinching it lately.
Dream Oscar takes a small step forward and pulls Lando into his embrace, and, okay, maybe this isn’t just a really nice and elaborate figment of his imagination after all. A hand circles his wrist, rubbing where he was abusing his skin. Tears immediately spring to Lando’s eyes as he grips Oscar’s arms around him like he’s drowning and they’re his only lifeline.
“Hi, baby,” Oscar mutters against his hair after a moment. “Sorry for leaving you hanging for so long.”
“You’re not trying to break up with me?” Lando hiccups, clutching Oscar’s hoodie. Hands come up to his face to tenderly wipe away his tears, and he forces himself to take a couple deep breaths.
“God, no,” Oscar replies emphatically. “Why would I move to the UK if not to be with you?”
Hold up. Lando pulls back in shock.
“You’re what?!”
“Yeah? I had to get everything sorted, and I’m here to do my Masters. Took a long time, and I barely had any time to talk between applying and then spending time with my family before leaving.” Oscar studies Lando’s face and exhales. “It’s really good to see you in person, Lan. Discord doesn’t do your eyes justice.”
Lando genuinely can’t believe that this is his life. In one swift motion, he tugs his boyfriend into the hotel room, and as soon as the door is closed, he presses him against it and kisses him with the desperation of a man starved and craving for this kind of touch.
Oscar tastes like stale airplane air, but he makes a noise low in his throat, and Lando never wants to resort to video calls and grainy images ever again. Actually, with the way he’s being held at the moment, he would like to unzip his boyfriend and crawl into his skin to stay there forever. He needs to be as close to him as humanly possible.
Hugging him is good enough for now.
“I love you,” Lando croaks, his voice almost catching on those three words that he’s been saving for a year now. “Oscar, I told myself I wouldn’t say it until I could say it to your face, but it was so hard. ”
Oscar smiles at him, and Lando almost bursts into tears again. Seeing him smile right before his eyes is something he never thought he’d get to witness.
“I love you too.”
“I still can’t believe Max knew you were coming before I did.”
Oscar plays with Lando’s fingers and then weaves them between his own. “Wanted it to be a surprise, but I would’ve told you earlier if I knew how terrible I was making you feel.”
“I forgive you,” Lando says simply because Oscar moved halfway across the world for him, and he’s here, in his bed. Well, in his hotel bed, but they’re in the same bed, literally within touching distance, and that’s all that matters. “Oh, where’s all your stuff?”
“Stopped by Max’s room first. He let me use his bathroom to look a little more presentable for you.”
Lando moves to throw a leg over Oscar and get as close as physically possible. A hand immediately rests against the strip of skin where his shirt rides up, massaging little circles there. Into the collar of Oscar’s shirt, he mumbles, “Y’could look like a sack of rubbish, and I’d still kiss you.”
He reaches up to run a hand through the swoop of his boyfriend’s hair, smiling to himself when it feels as good as he imagined. Oscar raises his eyebrows at him and then grabs his wrist and moves his face closer to press their lips together. It’s nice, to just make out lazily, like they have all the time in the world. They could be sleeping, but jet lag has nothing on Oscar, who probably slept the entire trip over.
“If this is really a dream, I hope I never wake up,” Lando mutters dazedly, if only to make this whole morning feel a bit more real. Oscar groans and takes him by the shoulders, shaking him a little.
In a tone of voice that’s a bit too patient, he replies, “This is not a dream. I’m here, you’re here, we’re going to watch quali later and the race tomorrow, and it’s gonna be a full circle moment.”
“Oh my God.”
“And if you want, we can have sex tonight too.”
“Oh my God.”
“I mean, only if you want. We’re probably taking a things a bit fast, but-”
“Oscar,” Lando interrupts, whines, really, “if you make me wait longer than that, I might explode, and not in the good way, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m an absolute slut for you, and I’ve had a heart boner for you for years. Like, take me, please.”
He even wriggles his hips teasingly, pleased when Oscar’s grip on him tightens.
“You probably shouldn’t do that. I don’t have my stuff with me right now, so if we make a mess… well.”
Lando huffs. “Fine.”
“Besides, if one of your friends asks us where we are, I’d have to tell them that you were horny,” Oscar says, but he leans in to steal another kiss. “And we don’t want to be embarrassed like that either.”
“We should cuddle, then. To make up for the past three years.”
“Sure.”
Ignoring his boyfriend’s sarcastically lackluster response, Lando squirms about until Oscar is settled between his legs with his head tucked in the crook of his neck. He pats Oscar’s hair a couple times for good measure when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his midriff, squeezing him tightly. It's everything he imagined while sending those animal videos and captioning them with "us".
“You make a cute koala,” Lando says. He kisses Oscar’s forehead. “My cute koala.”
“Koalas carry chlamydia, Lando.”
“Okay, maybe not a koala then. Still mine, though.”
“Mm.”
By the track, Max takes one look at Lando, who has yet to detach himself from his boyfriend and sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God. Does this mean you’re moving out?”