Chapter Text
Lando answers the door in a hoodie. Barefoot, hair a mess in that way it only ever is when he’s actually at home and not trying to be anything for anyone.
There’s a split second where he just looks surprised. Not alarmed. Not confused. Just- surprised.
“Oscar?”
Oscar hadn’t thought about this part. About the fact Lando wouldn’t be expecting him.
“Hi.” It comes out flatter than he means it to.
Lando’s eyes flick over his face quickly. Not obvious. But Oscar sees it. He steps back without hesitation.
“Come in.”
No questions. Not yet.
—
The apartment is quiet.
Soft lighting. TV off. No background noise. It feels like stepping into something still.
Oscar stands just inside for a second longer than necessary, like he’s forgotten what he’s supposed to do next.
Lando closes the door behind him.
“Everything alright?” Gentle. Careful. Not pushing. Not making it bigger than Oscar’s ready for.
Oscar nods. Too fast.
“Yeah.” It’s automatic. Reflex. Lando doesn’t call him on it. Just waits. And that – more than anything – starts to unravel something.
Oscar moves further in, like that will help. More like a visit and less like whatever this actually is.
He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t take his jacket off. Just stands there, hands loose at his sides, not quite sure what to do with them.
Lando watches him for a second. Then, quieter: “You want a drink or anything?”
Oscar shakes his head. “No.”
A beat.
“I-” It stops there. Because now he actually has to say something. And suddenly all of it feels too big. Too tangled. Too difficult to explain without saying too much.
Lando doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t fill the silence. Just stands there, giving him space to either speak or not.
Oscar exhales through his nose. Tries again.
“I watched the interviews.”
Lando nods once. “Yeah?”
Oscar nods back. “Yeah.”
Another pause. He should stop there.
Lando tilts his head slightly. “And?” It’s soft. Open.
Oscar lets out a short breath. Something in his chest feels tight. “They’re-” He cuts himself off. Shakes his head once, like he can physically dislodge the sentence. “They’re good.” That’s useless.
Lando huffs a quiet breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh. “Alright.” No push. No judgement. Just… noted.
Oscar almost smiles. Almost. Then it drops again.
Lando sees it – of course he does – the way Oscar’s shoulders tighten again.
He shifts a step closer.
“Oscar.” There’s something different in his voice now. Softer. “What’s going on?”
Oscar laughs once, sharp and wrong. “I-” He swallows. “I don’t know.”
Lando doesn’t rush him. Just watches. His fingers tap once, lightly, against his own thumb – a small, restless habit he doesn’t seem aware of.
Oscar drags a hand through his hair.
“I watched them like five times.”
Lando’s brows lift slightly. “Yeah?” A small nod. “Okay.”
“I kept-” He exhales hard. “I kept going back to the same bits.” His voice is thinner now. Less controlled.
Lando’s gaze stays on him. Steady. “What bits?”
Oscar lets out another breath that shakes slightly on the way out. “You keep saying my name.”
Lando blinks. Just once. “…yeah.” Not defensive. Just acknowledging it. His hand comes up briefly to the back of his neck, rubbing once like he’s not entirely sure what to do with that information.
Oscar’s already shaking his head. “It’s not-” He presses his lips together. Tries to reset. “It’s not bad. It’s not a bad thing. I just-” His hands come up, gesturing vaguely like he can physically shape the feeling into something coherent. “You’re- happy. And you keep- including me in it.”
Lando’s frown is slight. Focused. Trying to understand
“You’ve just won the championship and you’re-” He cuts himself off, frustrated. “You keep- you don’t have to do that.”
“Oscar-” he stops himself. Re-angles. “I was just talking about the season.” His thumb catches on the cuff of his sleeve, tugging it once, then letting it go.
“I don’t know what to do with that.” Oscar’s chest is tight enough it almost hurts.
Lando goes still for half a second. Then he closes the distance. A hand on Oscar’s arm first. Light. Checking. His fingers press lightly at Oscar’s sleeve, like he’s grounding himself there as much as Oscar. Then stronger when Oscar doesn’t pull away.
“Oscar.” Softer.
“I should just- be fine with it.”
Lando shakes his head, small. “You don’t-” He exhales. “You don’t have to be anything right now.”
“I am happy for you. But I’m also-” Oscar’s voice breaks.
Lando doesn’t wait this time. He steps in fully. Arms around him. Immediate. Certain. One hand settles at the back of Oscar’s neck, fingers spreading slightly into his hair without thinking. The other presses flat against his back, thumb moving, slow and absent, like he’s keeping time with Oscar’s breathing.
Oscar folds into it. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Oscar says into his shoulder.
Lando’s hand shifts slightly at his neck, thumb brushing once, then again, the same small motion repeating without thought.
“Yeah.” Quiet. Not agreement. Not dismissal. Just with him.
Oscar’s forehead presses into his shoulder, breath uneven against Lando’s hoodie. “I hate this.” It’s quiet. Raw.
Lando doesn’t flinch. “I know.” Soft. Careful.
Oscar’s grip tightens just slightly, almost imperceptible, hands curled into the fabric at his back. “I don’t want to hate it.”
Lando’s thumb stills for a second. Then resumes that same slow movement. “I don’t think you do.” A pause. “I think it’s just… a lot.”
Oscar shakes his head weakly against his shoulder. “It feels like I do.”
Lando exhales slowly, breath warm against Oscar’s temple.
“Yeah.” Then, quieter: “I know.” His hand shifts, then back again, like he doesn’t quite know why.
The tears come. Lando doesn’t say anything else. Just holds him. His hand tightens slightly at Oscar’s back, anchoring him there. The rhythm of his thumb at Oscar’s neck stays steady. Unthinking. Repetitive.
Time passes.
Eventually, Oscar’s breathing evens out. Lando feels it before he sees it – the change in pace, the way the tension eases slightly under his hands. His thumb slows. Doesn’t stop.
Oscar pulls back slightly. “Sorry.”
Lando huffs softly. Shakes his head. “Don’t.” His hand lingers at the back of Oscar’s neck for a second longer than necessary before dropping.
“I drove here without thinking.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
There’s a faint smile in Lando’s voice. His fingers catch briefly on Oscar’s sleeve again, like he’s not quite ready to let the contact go completely.
“I just-” Oscar hesitates. “That line.”
“Which one?”
“I want to give him a hug.”
A small pause. Lando’s expression softens again. He doesn’t make a joke of it. Doesn’t deflect. Just says, simply: “Yeah. I did.” A beat. Then, softer: “I wasn’t really-” He rubs at the back of his neck again, faintly awkward. “Wasn’t thinking about saying it.”
Oscar exhales. “Okay.”
Lando doesn’t step back. Doesn’t let the space widen. Just stays there. Close enough that their sleeves still brush. He doesn’t make it into something bigger. Just stays.
—
It’s Lando who moves first, but only slightly; shifting his weight, glancing past Oscar toward the kitchen like he’s just remembered it exists.
“You want water?”
Oscar nods. It’s easier than speaking. “Yeah.”
Lando disappears for a moment. Not long. Just long enough that Oscar becomes aware of himself again – the tightness still sitting in his chest, the faint heat in his face, the fact he’s standing in the middle of Lando’s apartment. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for his phone. Just waits.
Lando comes back with two glasses and hands one to him without comment, nudging it lightly into his fingers. Oscar takes it, murmuring a quiet thanks. Lando just hums something in response before drifting back toward the sofa and dropping onto it, one arm slung along the back like he’s been there all evening.
He glances up. Not expectant. Just there.
Oscar hesitates for half a second, then sits. Not right next to him – close enough that their knees almost touch. He takes a sip of the water just to have something to do.
The room settles around them. Quiet again.
Lando shifts slightly, his foot brushing against Oscar’s for a second before he tucks it back in.
“Sorry,” he says automatically.
Oscar shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
A small pause follows, then, quieter, “You don’t have to-” He stops himself.
Lando glances over. “Don’t have to what?”
Oscar shrugs faintly, eyes dropping to the glass in his hands. “I don’t know. Tiptoe around it.”
Lando huffs a small breath. “I’m not.” Simple.
Oscar nods once and lets that settle. They sit in it for a bit, not quite silence, not quite conversation. Lando leans forward eventually, elbows on his knees, turning his empty glass in his hands.
“You really watched them five times?” There’s something almost disbelieving in it, light around the edges.
Oscar exhales softly. “Yeah.” Then, after a beat, more honest, “Probably more.”
Lando’s mouth twitches. “Bit much.”
“Yeah.” Something like a smile flickers across Oscar’s face – small, brief – before it fades again. His grip shifts slightly. “I just-” He stops, reworks it. “You kept bringing me into it. Even when you didn’t have to.”
Lando looks over at him then. There’s a flicker of surprise there – quick, unguarded. “…yeah.” Like he doesn’t quite understand the issue. A beat. “I mean-” He shifts slightly, frowning faintly now, trying to follow. “Why wouldn’t I?” It’s not defensive. Just… obvious, from his side.
Oscar’s gaze flicks up, then drops again. “Because you won.” It comes out quiet, but clear. A beat.
“You didn’t have to.” He shifts slightly, fingers tightening around the glass. “No one was expecting you to.”
Lando watches him for a second, the surprise easing into something more focused. “That’s not-” He stops, like he’s about to correct himself and then realises he doesn’t quite have the right words. A small shake of his head. “It’s not about that.” He glances down at his hands, thumb catching briefly on the edge of the glass. “You’re just in it.”
It lands somewhere he’s not quite ready to examine. His knee shifts slightly and bumps Lando’s – this time neither of them moves away.
A few minutes pass like that, talking in pieces, letting the gaps stay. Oscar’s breathing has fully evened out now, but he hasn’t leaned away. If anything, he’s angled slightly closer without meaning to. Lando notices, adjusts just enough that it doesn’t feel accidental.
“So,” Lando says after a while, tone deliberately casual, “you’ve ruined my night.”
Oscar lets out a quiet breath that’s almost a laugh. “Yeah.”
“Had plans, you know.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
That gets a small smile, one that lingers a fraction longer this time. Oscar places his cup down gently on the coffee table, then says, quieter, “You meant it.”
Lando glances over. “Which bit?”
Oscar doesn’t look at him. “I want to give him a hug.”
There’s a pause. Lando leans back slightly, his arm returning to the back of the sofa behind Oscar – not touching, just close. “Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious.
Oscar nods once, slow. “Okay.”
For a moment, nothing changes. Then Oscar exhales, small and steady, and shifts – not away, but closer - so the space between them disappears. He leans down, almost absent-minded, and lets his head come to rest against Lando’s shoulder.
There’s no comment. No warning. Just the quiet weight of it.
Lando stills for half a second. Then his arm drops from the back of the sofa without hesitation, settling around Oscar’s shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His hand comes up to the side of Oscar’s arm, thumb pressing once, grounding.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t make it into something bigger. Just holds him there.
Oscar doesn’t move again. Doesn’t pull back. Just lets himself settle into it, some of the tension easing out of him in small, quiet increments.
The TV stays off. Neither of them reaches for their phones. Oscar doesn’t say he’s staying, and Lando doesn’t ask how long.
They just sit there. And every now and then, small and absent, Lando’s thumb moves once against Oscar’s arm. Steady.