Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Singapore is like a wave of heat hitting them over and over, thick and unrelenting, clinging to skin and clothes the second they step outside. Then the light, everything lit up even late into the night, buildings glowing, streets busy in a way that never really quiets down.

By the time they get to the hotel, Lando feels it sitting under his skin, that strange mix of exhaustion and restlessness that comes with the being back into the flyaway part of the season. He showers quickly, lets the water run a little longer than necessary, trying to shake off the travel, the noise, the constant movement of the last few days.

Towel slung low around his hips, hair still damp, he stands in his hotel room for a moment, listening to faint noises around him, the hum of the air conditioning, distant hallway noise bleeding faintly through the door, the city outside still awake in a way that never quite settles.

His phone buzzes once on the bedside table, a message he doesn’t check, doesn’t really want to. For a second, he considers just staying in, putting something on the TV, letting the night pass without thinking too much about anything at all, but the restlessness doesn’t go anywhere. It sits under his skin, sharp and familiar, not overwhelming, just enough to make everything feel a little too loud in his own head.

So without really deciding to, he reaches for a shirt and some sweats, drags them on, runs a hand through his hair as he grabs his keycard. There’s only one place that his thoughts ever lead him to lately, so before he knows it, he’s standing outside Oscar’s hotel room, knocking lightly on the door, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he waits.

The door opens almost immediately. Oscar is there, already mid-smile, like he knew it would be Lando. It softens something in his chest straight away.

“Hey,” Oscar says, opening the door wider to let Lando in.

“Hey,” Lando replies, stepping into the room and closing the distance to Oscar, arms coming up lace around Oscar’s waist.

Oscar reciprocates and wraps his around Lando’s shoulder, pulling him until Lando’s buried his head into the curve of Oscar’s neck. “You okay?”

Lando nods against Oscar. “Yeah, just feeling jittery.”

Oscar hums softly at that, one hand sliding up and down Lando’s back in slow, grounding strokes. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice low, steady. “Come here.”

Lando’s already there, really, but Oscar tightens his hold anyway, anchoring him in place. One hand comes up to the back of Lando’s neck, fingers threading lightly through the damp curls, guiding him closer rather than letting him hide.

“Just the travel?” Oscar asks after a second. “Or your head being… loud again?”

Lando exhales into his neck, something between a sigh and a quiet laugh. “Bit of both.”

“Alright,” Oscar says simply, like that’s fine, like that’s manageable. “We can work with that.”

Lando shifts just enough to look at him, his arms still looped around Oscar’s waist. “You always make things feel easier.”

Oscar’s mouth quirks. “It’s not easy, just not impossible.”

Something in Lando’s chest loosens at that, just a fraction. “Okay,” he says, quieter now.

Oscar studies him for a second, eyes soft, thumb brushing absently along the side of Lando’s neck. “You want to talk about it, or just distract yourself for a bit?”

Lando considers it, then shakes his head slightly. “Don’t think I have words yet.”

“That’s alright,” Oscar says. “You don’t have to.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy. It settles around them, easy, familiar. Lando leans back in, pressing his forehead briefly against Oscar’s shoulder before tilting his head up, just enough that their noses brush.

Oscar doesn’t move away so Lando closes the last bit of distance, pressing a soft kiss to Oscar’s mouth. Oscar responds immediately, one hand tightening slightly in Lando’s hair as he tilts his head, deepening it just enough to make Lando hum quietly into the kiss. It’s not rushed, just steady, grounding, the kind of kiss that feels like it’s meant to settle something rather than spark it.

Which is exactly why the sudden loud, exaggerated gagging noise from somewhere behind them is so jarring.

“Fuck,” Lando jerks back instinctively, blinking as he turns his head to look over Oscar’s shoulder. “Oh my god,” he starts, then stops, eyes widening slightly as it clicks.

Logan is sprawled across the end of the bed, hand dramatically over his mouth trying to hold in his laughter. Arthur is leaning against the wall, fully unashamed as he fakes dry retching, and Fred is half hidden behind him, laughing loudly.

“Right,” Lando says flatly. “Cool. Love that for me.”

Oscar groans, dropping his head forward so it knocks lightly against Lando’s shoulder. “I forgot they were here.”

“You forgot,” Lando repeats, incredulous, though there’s no real bite to it, just lingering embarrassment and the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.

Logan grins. “In our defence, that was very cute. Just maybe warn us next time before the PDA starts?”

Arthur nods. “Or don’t, this is entertaining.”

Fred just waves. “Hi, Lando.”

Lando exhales a laugh despite himself, scrubbing a hand over his face before glancing back at Oscar. “You didn’t think to mention you had company?”

Oscar looks up at him, still a little flushed, entirely unapologetic. “You were the one who walked in and immediately attached yourself to me.”

“That is not the point.”

“It kind of is,” Oscar says, lips twitching.

Lando huffs, but there’s no real frustration behind it anymore, the earlier tension already eased out of his shoulders. “Okay,” Lando shakes himself out of it. “I’ll let you guys hang out. I can come back later.”

Oscar hesitates, like he wants to say something else, but Lando leans in before he can, presses another quick, familiar kiss to his lips.

“Come find me after?” he murmurs.

Oscar nods. “Yeah, I will.”

Lando pulls back, already turning toward the hallway.

“Oi, no.”

When he turns back around, Logan has pushed himself upright, looking at him like he’s just said something completely unreasonable. “You can’t just leave,” Logan says.

Arthur immediately nods, pointing at him. “Yeah, that’s weird behaviour.”

Fred glances over, more subtle but just as amused. “We’ve been meaning to meet you, properly that it.”

Oscar goes red instantly. “You’ve met him.”

“Not like this,” Arthur says. “Not now that you two have rekindled your relationship,” he finishes with a smirk.

“What does that even mean?” Oscar mutters.

Lando hovers in the doorway, caught between stepping out and stepping back in.

“You don’t have to…” Oscar starts, but Logan cuts him off again.

“Stay,” he says to Lando, more casual now but still firm. “We’re curious.”

“Very,” Arthur adds, grinning.

Fred smiles apologetically at Lando and gestures lightly toward the empty space on the couch. “You might as well, they’re not going to let up unless you do.”

Lando glances at Oscar. There’s embarrassment sitting in the flush on his cheeks, likely from his friends insistence on getting to know him, but there’s something else too, something softer, something close to hope.

“Alright,” Lando says, stepping back inside. “But if this turns into an interrogation…”

“It won’t,” Logan says.

“It absolutely will,” Arthur mutters then beams at him. “Come sit down.”

It becomes an interrogation very quickly. Logan asks the first proper question, something about the last few races, about how Lando’s been feeling since the break. It’s easy enough to answer, familiar ground.

Fred follows up with something more specific, something about his race management plans for Singapore, and Lando finds himself slipping into it without thinking, explaining, breaking things down the way he does in debriefs.

Arthur, on the other hand, is less structured. “So,” he says at one point, leaning forward. “What’s your favourite thing about Oscar?”

“Arthur,” Oscar groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“What? It’s a good question.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Logan says, entirely unhelpful.

Fred watches quietly, clearly entertained.

Lando laughs, caught off guard. “That’s a bit of a loaded one.”

“Answer it,” Arthur insists.

Oscar looks like he wants to disappear.

Lando glances at him, takes in the flush, the way he’s trying not to meet his eyes, and something soft settles in his chest. “He’s… steady,” Lando says after a moment, tone lighter than the words feel. “He’s funny in that dead pan sort of way, has a weird competitive streak for someone who acts that calm all the time, and…” Lando huffs a small laugh. “I don’t know, he just makes everything better, makes me feel better. I don’t know, I don’t feel like I ever have to pretend to be anyone other than myself around him.”

Oscar finally looks up at him then, there’s something unreadable flickering across his face.

Arthur makes a strangled noise, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my god,” he groans. “That is disgusting.”

Logan immediately sits up straighter. “No, no, let him finish. I want to hear how much worse it gets.”

“It won’t,” Lando says, deadpan, even as the corner of his mouth twitches.

Fred snorts. “It already has.”

“You’re actually in love,” Arthur says, pointing between them like he’s just cracked a case. “Like, properly. That wasn’t even subtle.”

“None of that was subtle,” Logan agrees. “You said ‘he makes everything better’. Who says that?”

“You asked the question, I simply answered,” Lando shrugs, trying for casual, but his eyes flick back to Oscar anyway, like he can’t help it.

Oscar looks like he’s about two seconds away from combusting. His cheeks are flushed, gaze dropping briefly before he looks back up, a small, almost disbelieving smile pulling at his mouth. “Can we not…” Oscar starts.

“No, we absolutely cannot,” Arthur cuts in. “We’ve waited too long for this.”

Fred leans back against the wall, arms crossed. “I’m just saying, if this ends in a proposal, I’m claiming I saw it coming first.”

Oscar makes a quiet, horrified noise. “You’re all the worst.”

“Yeah,” Logan says easily. “But we’re right.”

Lando huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t look away from Oscar this time. Their eyes catch again, something softer threading through the chaos around them, something that feels like it belongs just to them. Oscar’s smile lingers, a little shy, a little fond.

And because the others are still talking, still laughing, still very much watching, Lando leans in and kisses him again. It’s quick, deliberate, just enough to make a point.

Arthur groans louder this time. “Oh, come on.”

Logan throws his hands up. “Yeah, alright, we get it. You’re obsessed.”

Fred just laughs.

Oscar pulls back, still flushed, still smiling, bumping his shoulder lightly into Lando’s. “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe,” Lando says, completely unapologetic.

Arthur shakes his head. “I’m never letting either of you live this down.”

“Good luck with that,” Lando replies, not even trying to hide the grin now.

The questions ease off after that, not completely, but they shift and become less about Lando specifically and more about everything else. Racing stories, shared experiences, small, overlapping conversations that weave together into something easier.

At some point, Arthur claps his hands together suddenly. “Right,” he says. “We need to do something.”

“That’s never good,” Fred says.

Arthur is already digging through a bag. “Monopoly.

Logan groans immediately. “No, absolutely not. Last time we played, you threw a tantrum and flipped the board.”

“Because you guys weren’t playing by the rules,” Arthur says, pulling the box out triumphantly. “So this time we’re playing properly, by the rules.”

“Is this the universal rules, or the Leclerc family rules?” Oscar points out.

“Uh, Leclerc family rules, obviously.”

“That’s the issue.”

Lando watches the exchange, something like amusement settling in as the board is set up regardless of protests. He ends up squeezed onto the couch beside Oscar, knees brushing occasionally as they shift to make space. “Leclerc family rules?” He whispers to Oscar.

“Just go with it,” Oscar murmurs under his breath as Arthur starts distributing money.

Lando glances at the uneven piles. “Why does he have more than everyone else?”

“Banker’s privilege,” Arthur says without looking up.

“That’s not…”

“Don’t question it,” Oscar says, nudging his leg lightly.

Lando huffs a quiet laugh. “Right.”

The game is chaos almost immediately. Logan and Oscar get competitive fast, arguing over every rule, every move. Fred plays quietly, methodically, building something in the background that Lando doesn’t fully clock until it’s too late. Arthur changes rules mid-game, completely unapologetic about it.

“That’s not how Monopoly works,” Lando says at one point.

“It is now,” Arthur replies.

“That’s not a valid answer.”

“It is if I’m the banker.”

“You shouldn’t be the banker.”

Oscar leans into Lando slightly, laughing. “We say that every time.”

“And you still let him do it?” Lando asks.

“We tried to stop him once,” Logan says. “It didn’t go well.”

Arthur looks up. “I stand by my decisions.”

Lando shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

Throughout it all he can’t help noticing Oscar, the way he moves through it all so easily, like this is where he’s most comfortable. He’s louder here, more animated, teasing Arthur, pushing back on Logan, exchanging quieter, sharper comments with Fred that make them both smirk. There’s no hesitation or second guessing in his actions, he’s full of confidence.

Lando watches him for a moment longer than he means to. This version of Oscar isn’t new exactly, but it’s definitely fuller here, more complete. He realises then how much these guys are the reason that this comes out of Oscar, not by changing him but just by letting him be it.

At some point, Lando realises he’s not just observing anymore, he’s in it. Arguing over properties, laughing when Arthur inevitably cheats, getting pulled into some ridiculous deal Logan is proposing.

“You cannot charge that much rent,” Lando says.

“I absolutely can,” Logan replies.

“That’s extortion.”

“That’s Monopoly.”

Oscar nudges Lando’s arm. “Welcome to the Leclerc experience.”

“I hate all of you,” Lando mutters.

“You love us,” Arthur says.

They play for longer than they should, the game stretching out into something that barely resembles Monopoly anymore. At one point, Lando leans back slightly, letting the noise wash over him, watching the others argue over something completely inconsequential.

He glances at Oscar and catches his eye. Oscar smiles at him, small but bright, like he’s checking in, like he’s making sure Lando’s okay in this space. Lando returns it without thinking. He looks around the room again, at the chaos, the easy familiarity between them all. He’s genuinely glad Oscar has this, has Logan, Arthur and Fred to call his best mates. They don’t take anything from him, they don’t compete with what Lando and Oscar have, they add to it, they make Oscar more himself.

Arthur slams a card down dramatically. “Right, that’s it, I’m winning this.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour,” Fred says.

“This time I mean it.”

Lando laughs under his breath, shaking his head as the argument picks up again.

Eventually, the game burns itself out. Not with a clear winner, just a slow unravel into arguments that stop being about the game at all. Money gets miscounted, properties get traded under questionable conditions, and at some point Fred just pushes back from the board with a groan.

“This is not Monopoly anymore,” he says.

“It hasn’t been Monopoly for at least an hour,” Logan adds.

Arthur looks personally offended. “You’re all just upset because I was about to win.”

“You say that every time,” Oscar points out.

“Because it’s always true.”

Fred snorts, already standing. “Right, I’m calling it before you start rewriting the rules again.”

Everyone starts to move, the energy in the room shifting as they start to gather their things, the chaos of the game left abandoned across the table.

Logan stretches as he heads toward the door, glancing between Lando and Oscar with a grin that’s far too knowing. “We’ll leave you two to it, yeah?”

Oscar immediately groans. “Don’t…”

“Remember to wrap it,” Arthur cuts in, completely unhelpful.

“And be safe,” Fred adds, far too serious for the words.

Lando lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, get out.”

Logan points at them both as he backs toward the door. “We expect updates.”

“You’re not getting updates,” Oscar says flatly, already pushing him out into the hallway.

“Disappointing,” Arthur mutters as he follows.

The door clicks shut behind them, the echo of Arthur’s voice lingering for a second longer before it fades completely. The room settles into something quieter, softer, like all the noise has been pulled out of it at once.

Lando lets out a breath he doesn’t realise he’s holding, running a hand through his hair, a faint smile still tugging at his mouth. “Well that was something.”

Oscar huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leans back against the door for a second, like he needs the support of it. “That’s one way to put it.” Oscar looks at him properly then. “Thank you.”

Lando blinks, caught off guard. “For what?”

Oscar shrugs, but it’s not casual. There’s something a little more careful underneath it, something honest. “For staying, for not just leaving when you saw them here.”

Lando frowns slightly. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I know,” Oscar says quickly. “I just… I didn’t realise how much I needed them to like you until just now.”

The words land somewhere low in Lando’s chest, heavier than they should be for how quietly they’re said. He studies Oscar for a second, the faint flush still sitting high on his cheeks, the way he won’t quite hold eye contact for too long.

“They were always gonna like me,” Lando says, lighter, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “I’m very likeable.”

Oscar rolls his eyes immediately, but there’s a smile there too, softer around the edges. “Yeah, that must be it.”

Lando steps closer anyway, closing the space between them without really thinking about it. “No, seriously,” he adds, quieter now. “They’re your best mates Osc, of course they’re gonna care about who you bring around.”

Oscar’s expression shifts at that, something warmer settling in. “They do care.”

“I can tell,” Lando says. “They’ve got your back.”

Oscar huffs. “You have no idea.”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea after the interrogation I just sat through.”

That earns a proper laugh, the tension easing out of Oscar’s shoulders a little. He pushes off the door, stepping into Lando’s space properly this time. “They like you,” Oscar repeats, like he’s still a little surprised by it.

Lando shrugs, softer now. “I like them too.”

Oscar’s mouth curves at that, something quiet and pleased. “Thank you,” he pauses. “Again.”

Lando reaches out slowly, fingers catching lightly at Oscar’s wrist, tugging him the rest of the way in. Oscar goes easily, like he was already halfway there. “Stop thanking me,” Lando murmurs, before closing the distance properly, pressing a kiss to his mouth, slow and certain this time, no interruptions, no noise from the outside.

When they pull apart, Lando exhales, glancing around at the mess left behind. “We should probably…”

“Yeah,” Oscar agrees, already stepping forward.

They fall into it easily, gathering cards, stacking money, pushing everything back into some vague sense of order. It’s quiet, but not awkward, just softer now without the others filling the space.

Lando flicks a glance at him as he lines the box back up on the table. “Movie?” he offers.

Oscar hesitates for a moment. “Uh… no.”

Lando huffs a quiet laugh. “Alright, what do you want to do then?”

Oscar doesn’t answer straight away. Instead he steps closer, close enough that Lando’s attention shifts fully back to him, the question still half there on his lips before it fades as Oscar slides his arms around his waist, pulling him in.

“Not really in the mood to watch a movie,” Oscar murmurs.

“Oh yeah?” Lando smirks, bringing his own arms up to wrap around Oscar. “What are you in mood for then?”

Oscar just kisses him in response. It’s not hesitant either, there’s something more certain in the way Oscar leans into it this time, the way he keeps Lando close rather than letting him drift away.

One of Lando’s hands slides down Oscar’s body to settle at his hips, pulling him in that little bit more as he kisses back, smiling slightly against his mouth. “Okay, yeah,” Lando murmurs, barely pulling back for a second. “Got it.”

Oscar huffs a soft laugh, pressing back in, and this time Lando meets him properly, any lingering distraction from earlier gone as he leans into it fully.

Lando's lips move against Oscar's with hunger as takes a few sets forward, pressing Oscar back against the wall, his pulse racing hard. Oscar's hands fist into Lando's shirt, tugging him closer, tongues sliding together in a wet, open mouthed kiss that leaves Lando's cock twitching in his jeans.

Oscar groans into Lando's mouth as one of Lando’s hands slides up to cup the back of Oscar's neck, fingers threading through soft hair and tugging gently. Oscar tastes like the soda drink he’d had whilst they played monopoly, sweet and fizzy on his tongue, and Lando chases it deeper, sucking lightly on Oscar's lower lip before nipping it sharp enough to draw a gasp.

“Fuck, Osc,” Lando mutters when they break for air, foreheads resting together, breaths panting hot between them. His free hand roams down Oscar's side, thumb brushing the hem of his shirt, itching to feel skin.

Oscar's eyes are now a dark brown, pupils blown wide, and he surges forward again, kissing Lando harder, bodies aligning so their hips grind together through denim. Lando feels Oscar pressing firm against his thigh, and it sends a jolt straight to his own dick, already half-hard and straining.

“Mm, wait… Osc wait,” Lando detaches his lips from Oscar’s, pulling back just enough to meet Oscar's eyes.

“What?” Oscar asks, a frown on his forehead.

Lando brings his hand up to soothe the lines out on Oscar’s forehead. "We can't have sex tonight," he says, voice low and steady. "Realistically, having sex isn't going to be good for whoever bottoms with us having to get in the car tomorrow."

Oscar slumps against him, shoulders dropping as the words sink in, but he nods in quiet agreement. "Yeah okay... makes sense."

“But…” Lando tugs him back in close, hands sliding up Oscar's back. "There's still plenty we can do though," he murmurs, bringing Oscar in for another kiss.

Oscar laughs into his mouth. “I’m okay with that.”

Lando walks them backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, hands everywhere, gripping Oscar's ass to pull him flush, then sliding up under his shirt to trace the ridges of his abs.

They tumble onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, the king-sized bed swallowing them with its plush give. Lando rolls them so he's hovering over Oscar, knees bracketing his hips, and peels Oscar's shirt up and off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Oscar's chest heaves, pale skin flushed pink, nipples pebbled from both the cool air and arousal. Lando leans down to lick a stripe across one, then sucks it into his mouth, teeth grazing the bud while his hand pinches the other.

Oscar arches beneath him with a whine, fingers digging into Lando's shoulders. “Lando… uh yes,” he breathes, voice rough, and Lando smiles against his skin, switching sides to lavish the other with the same attention, tongue flicking relentlessly until he has Oscar squirming.

Lando's cock throbs at the sounds Oscar makes, needy and unrestrained, a far cry from the shy boy he'd first coaxed through intimacy. Pride swells in Lando's chest alongside the lust, he loves seeing Oscar like this, confident, taking what he wants.

He sits back on his heels, yanking his own shirt over his head and flinging it away, then works at Oscar's belt, popping the buckle with practiced ease. Jeans slide down, revealing black briefs tented obscenely, a wet spot darkening the front. Lando palms Oscar through the fabric, rubbing firm circles over his cockhead, and Oscar bucks up with a curse.

“Off…off, get them off,” Oscar demands, voice edged with desperation, and Lando chuckles low, stripping the briefs down too, freeing Oscar's dick to slap against his stomach, flushed and leaking.

Lando kicks off his shoes, then sheds his jeans and briefs in record time, cock springing free, heavy, curved slightly, pre-cum beading at the slit. Naked now, they crash back together, skin sliding hot and slick with sweat. Lando grinds down, cocks rubbing together in a messy drag that makes stars burst behind his eyelids. He kisses Oscar again, slower this time, tongues lazy as hands explore, Lando's tracing the V of Oscar's hips, dipping lower to cup his balls, rolling them gently while Oscar's fingers map Lando's back, nails scratching light trails that raise goosebumps.

Pausing to catch his breath, Lando props himself on one elbow, gazing down at Oscar's blissed-out face. “What do you want this time, Osc?” he asks, voice soft but intent, thumb stroking Oscar's cheek. He's learned to check in, to let Oscar lead when he wants, especially after all they've shared. Oscar's voicing his desires without hesitation makes Lando's heart, and cock, ache with affection.

Oscar bites his lip, eyes flicking down Lando's body, lingering on his hardened cock before meeting his gaze again. Oscar doesn’t say anything, just smiles wickedly and takes the initiative this time, pushing Lando onto his back. Lando chuckles as he lands on his back, hands settling in Oscar’s hair as Oscar moves to lay between Lando’s spread thighs.

Oscar trails his lips down Lando's torso, tasting the faint salt of sweat from the day's events. He reaches Lando's cock, already half-hard and twitching under his gaze. Wrapping his fingers around the base, Oscar lowers his head and takes the tip into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Lando’s hips snap up slightly causing Oscar to choke slightly. Lando sits up and automatically reaches down to stroke Oscar’s jaw. “Shit Osc, are you okay?”

Oscar pulls back with a cough. “Yeah, just keep still,” he says as he wraps one arm across Lando’s waist to hold him still.

“Yes sir,” Lando smiles and lays back down.

Oscar sucks gently at first, tongue swirling around the head, then takes more of the length in, hollowing his cheeks as he bobs steadily. Saliva drips down the shaft as Oscar works his jaw wider, taking Lando deeper with each pass. His free hand cups Lando's balls, rolling them softly while his tongue presses flat along the underside vein.

Lando groans above him, fingers threading lightly through Oscar's hair. "Fuck that's it Osc. Just like that."

The praise seems to spur Oscar on. He works his tongue along the underside, Lando growing fully hard and thick in his mouth. Saliva slicks everything as Oscar pushes deeper, the head brushing the back of his throat.

Lando's hips buck upwards again without warning and he grips Oscar’s shoulders hard enough to mark. He hears Oscar whine around his cock and his arm gripping around Lando’s waist grows tighter. Lando can’t help but laugh as he moves his hand to card through Oscar’s hair. “Don’t worry Osc, I’m not pulling you off.”

Oscar smiles around his cock and keeps his rhythm going. Lando feels the build up pool deep in his stomach. His back arching off the bed in an attempt to chase the feeling further.

“Osc, I’m gonna,” he sighs. “I’m…” He chokes off into a broken groan as he lets go. Cum floods Oscar's mouth in hot, thick spurts. Lando keeps his eyes open, too entranced at watching Oscar like this as he chokes a little, eyes watering as he takes as much as he can.

When Oscar eventually pulls back, Lando watches as a trail of his cum escapes the corner of Oscar’s lips so he reaches down immediately, thumb wiping the stray cum away with a tender stroke. "You all right?" His voice comes out rough, laced with concern and lingering pleasure.

Oscar swallows what he can, grimacing slightly at the taste but nodding. "Yeah, I'm good."

Lando pulls him up for a slow, deep kiss, sharing the taste between them. “Was it worth the wait?”

Oscar laughs but nods. “Please tell me you get used to the taste eventually.”

Lando laughs. “Eventually.”

Oscar grimaces. “Well seeing you like that was definitely worth it.”

Lando can do nothing but kiss Oscar, pulling him back in, mouth crashing against Oscar’s with a kind of urgency that steals the breath straight out of him. It’s messy, desperate, all heat and teeth and the press of lips that don’t quite know where to land because neither of them is willing to slow down long enough to figure it out.

Oscar’s hands are clutching at Lando’s shoulders, dragging him closer until there’s no space left between them. Their tongues are sliding together in a way that feels almost overwhelming. Lando’s hand finds the back of Oscar’s neck, holding him there, and Oscar tilts into it without hesitation, chasing it, meeting every movement with one of his own.

When Lando pulls back due to the need to breathe, he takes in the sight of Oscar’s swollen, glistening lips, his wide eyes shining with need, the flush sitting high on his cheeks and spreading down to his chest, which is rising and falling in a rapid rhythm. All Lando feels right then is want.

He leans back in to plant a kiss. “Osc,” he murmurs against his lips, "Would you… Can I try something?"

Oscar tilts his head, unable to guess exactly what Lando has in mind, but the trust is already there. "Yeah, I trust you," he says simply, voice steady despite the flutter in his chest.

Lando kisses him again, slower this time, then eases Oscar onto his back. Gentle hands spread Oscar's legs wide, and Lando settles between them. Before Oscar can fully process it, Lando lowers his head and uses his hands to pulls Oscar’s cheeks apart.

"Lando, what are you…?” The words break off as Lando presses his tongue against Oscar's hole. “Oh.”

The first lick circles the rim, wet and insistent. Oscar gasps, body tensing at the unexpected sensation. Lando moves his hands to rub soothingly along Oscar’s sides as his tongue starts thrusting shallowly inside.

At first Oscar squirms, thighs trembling around Lando's shoulders. The feeling is strange, intimate in a way that Lando can clearly tell Oscar is unsure about. Lando pauses just long enough to glance up. "We don't have to if you don't want it Osc."

Oscar bites his lip, a shy flush heating his cheeks, but he shakes his head. "No I... I want to try."

Lando smiles reassuringly at him, “are you sure?”

Oscar nods.

“Words Osc,” Lando squeezes his waist lightly.

“Yes,” Oscar says. “Keep going… please.”

Lando kisses the inside of his thigh before peppering kisses back down until he eventually reaches Oscar’s puckering hole. He keeps going, this time wrapping one hand around Oscar's cock and stroking in firm, steady pumps to help him through the initial awkwardness.

Gradually the tension eases as Lando's tongue works deeper, circling and lapping at the sensitive rim with focused attention. Pleasure builds in waves, Oscar's cock is leaking steadily under the slick slide of Lando's fist. The dual sensations of Lando’s wet tongue fucking into him and the tight grip stroking his shaft, push him closer. Lando adds a finger alongside his tongue, sliding in slowly to stretch the tight ring while his mouth sucks gently on the surrounding skin.

Oscar's hips start to rock on their own, chasing the heat. Soft moans escape him now, one hand clutching at the sheets whilst the other pulls at Lando’s curls. Lando sucks gently on the rim before thrusting his tongue in again. The added finger curls just right, brushing that spot inside that makes stars burst behind Oscar's eyes. He arches up, cock throbbing in Lando's grip as pre-cum beads at the tip. Lando adds a second finger, scissoring gently to open him further while his tongue laps around the digits. Every nerve feels alive, the stretch mixing with sparks of pleasure that radiate through his core.

The orgasm crashes suddenly, Oscar crying out as cum spills over Lando's fingers in hot pulses. His hole clenches around the invading tongue and fingers, milking the sensations as waves roll through him. Lando works him through every aftershock, tongue easing the tremors until Oscar lies boneless and sated, sweat glistening on his skin and chest heaving with each breath.

They stay tangled together afterward, Lando again pressing soft kisses to Oscar's inner thighs before crawling up to hold him close. The room feels quiet and warm, their breathing slowly evening out as the night stretches on with more possibilities ahead.

Lando's fingers trace lazy patterns on Oscar's chest, pausing to circle a nipple and draw a soft sigh. "How was that?" he whispers, nuzzling into Oscar's neck.

Oscar nods, turning to meet Lando's eyes. "Yeah, it was good, better than good.”

Lando pulls him in closer, pressing a kiss to Oscar’s temple. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Oscar mumbles into his neck.

“For letting me do that.”

“I told you I trust you,” Oscar respond.

“Yeah,” Lando murmurs, kissing Oscar’s eyelids heavy with exhaustion. “Sleep now.”

Oscar hums in agreement as he nestles further into Lando’s arms and drifts off.

…

The weekend moves quickly after that. Media day passes in a blur of questions and cameras, the usual rotation of interviews and sponsor obligations that Lando falls into without thinking too hard about it. He says the right things, smiles when he is meant to, keeps his answers measured and easy, even when his mind drifts elsewhere.

The free practice sessions come and go much the same way. The car is not perfect, but it’s workable, and Lando finds a balance with it quicker than he might have a few months ago. He feeds back calmly, talks things through with the engineers without the edge that used to creep in when something was not quite right. Andrea smiles more than he used to, Will’s voice over the radio stays light, conversational.

By Saturday, the pressure sharpens again, the air in the paddock shifting, tightening as it always does before qualifying. The noise builds, expectations settling heavier across everyone, the margins narrowing to something almost unforgiving.

Only qualifying unravels slower than it feels in the moment, but faster than Lando can stop it.

The car is decent in Q1, with the kind of balance that lets him relax into it but is workable. There is still that slight understeer on entry, especially through the medium speed corners, the front not quite biting the way he wants it to, but he adapts. He adjusts his braking, changes the angle, compensates without thinking too hard about it.

The first run is fine, it’s safe, nothing spectacular, but is enough to get a banker on the board.

The second run is where he loses it. On the out lap, he pushes to get the tyres in the right window, sector one clean, almost surprisingly so. But then in sector two he carries a fraction too much speed on entry and a fraction too much throttle on exit. The rear of the car steps out, it’s not a full snap, but it’s enough to ruin the line, to compromise the rest of the lap and bleed time all the way down the straight.

He tries to recover it, foot planted, wringing everything out of the car, but he already knows. By the time he crosses the line, his delta is red.

Will’s voice comes through the radio, sounding at flat as Lando currently feels. “That’s P18 mate. Just had some bad luck today but we can make it up tomorrow.”

Lando doesn’t say anything in response, just lets the words echo in his head. Slowly all the bad habits and negativity he has spent months trying to overcome, all comes rushing back in. The noises, the what ifs and assumptions, the instant, relentless dissection of every tiny thing he did wrong.

‘You knew the rear was unstable. Why did you push there. That was stupid. You didn’t need to…’ His grip tightens on the wheel, breath catching, chest pulling tight in that too-familiar way. He can feel it sitting inside him, right there waiting to happen, waiting for him to spiral.

He closes his eyes for half a second as he comes back into the garage, forcing his breathing to slow, counting it out the way he has practised, the way Dr Mercer has walked him through more times than he can count. In for five, hold for five, out for five, and repeat.

By the time he’s out of the car, the spiralling feeling is still there, hovering at the edges, but it has not swallowed him whole. His movements feel automatic, helmet off, balaclava shoved down, sweat cooling too quickly against his skin. The garage is louder than usual, or maybe it just feels that way, voices overlapping, screens flashing data, engineers already pulling apart what happened. He barely registers any of it.

His eyes find Oscar almost immediately. Oscar who has made it through to Q2 comfortably and waiting inside his car, helmet and gloves still on, for Q2 to start. Lando makes eye contact with Oscar and can see the concern and caution in Oscar’s eyes. Lando hesitates for half a second, then walks over. Oscar straightens a little in the cockpit as he approaches, eyes now careful and slightly wrinkled in the corners, the only giveaway that he’s smiling at Lando from under his helmet.

Lando scrubs a hand over his face once he comes to a stop beside Oscar’s car, breath still not quite settled. Oscar doesn’t say anything, it would only be muffled with his helmet still on. His visor is also half down, but his eyes are on Lando, steady and searching. Without hesitation, Oscar reaches out, gloved hand finding Lando’s, squeezing it once, firm and grounding.

Lando exhales, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders as he squeezes back, thumb brushing uselessly against the fabric of Oscar’s glove. “Go on,” Lando says, voice quieter now, but steady. “Drive fast.”

Oscar’s eyes crease at the corners, that same almost-smile from earlier.

“I’ll see you after,” Lando adds.

Oscar nods once, small but certain.

There is nothing else to say, not here, not now. The moment hangs for half a second longer before Lando lets go, stepping back as the mechanics start moving in again, the garage shifting around them. He lingers just long enough to catch Oscar’s eye one more time, then turns, heading back toward his side of the garage.

Lando watches Q2 from the monitors this time, headset half on, half off, arms folded across his chest. It is a strange position to be in, to be out early and watching instead of driving, but he does his best to not allow himself to sink into it.

Oscar’s first lap is clean and controlled, he doesn’t push too hard but doesn’t leave too much on the table either.

“Good lap,” Will mutters beside him.

Lando nods faintly, eyes fixed on the screen.

Oscar builds into it through the session, finding time where it matters, threading the car through corners with that quiet precision Lando has always noticed, always respected. He makes it through to Q3 comfortably.

When Q3 starts, the margins shrink, the drivers battling for track position, every tenth suddenly worth more than it should be. Lando leans forward slightly without realising, elbows resting on his knees now, attention locked in.

Oscar’s final run is good. There is a small moment through the final sector, he goes a fraction wide on exit that costs him just enough, but it’s still strong. When the times settle, Lando watches the PIA slot into P4.

Lando lets out a breath he doesn’t realise he was holding. “Nice,” he mutters under his breath. He’s once again reminded of how far Oscar’s come this season not only with his driving but also with his demeanour and confidence off track, and pride blooms through Lando’s chest as he watches Oscar drive back into the garage.

The car rolls to a stop and suddenly everything speeds up again, mechanics swarming in, tyre blankets going on, voices overlapping as the post session routine kicks back into place. Lando lingers just at the edge of it for a second, watching Oscar climb out, helmet coming off, hair damp and sticking slightly to his forehead.

Oscar’s eyes find him straight away, it does something stupid and soft to Lando’s chest. He pushes himself off the wall and walks over, slower than he usually would, giving Oscar the space to finish up with the engineers first. He watches the way Oscar nods through the debrief, calm, composed, already talking through the lap like it’s just another session and not Q3 under lights and in sweltering humidity.

When Oscar finally steps away, he moves toward Lando without hesitation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“P4,” Lando says, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

Oscar huffs out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, not bad.”

“Not bad,” Lando repeats, softer now, like he means something more by it.

Oscar’s gaze flicks over his face again, checking, always checking, and Lando feels it, the quiet concern still sitting there from earlier. “I’m good,” Lando says quietly, before Oscar can ask.

Oscar studies him for a beat, then nods once. “Okay.”

Media pulls Oscar away before anything else can settle, a PR hand appearing at his shoulder, already guiding him toward the pen. Oscar glances back once, just a flicker, and Lando lifts his chin slightly in response as if to say, ‘go on’.

Lando hangs back in the garage for a moment longer, listening to snippets of Oscar’s interview through the speakers, the easy way he talks about his lap, the team, the car. There is a steadiness to him now that was not there at the start of the season, something grounded and sure. That flicker of pride settles over him again.

By the time Lando finishes his own obligations, quick interviews, a couple of sponsor bits, a debrief that feels longer than it is, the paddock has shifted into the late post-excitement lull. The intensity has dipped, but the buzz is still there under everything.

Oscar is waiting just outside their driver rooms when Lando steps into the hallway. He’s leaning back against the wall, arms folded, ankle crossed over the other.

Lando’s chest tightens slightly at the sight. “You stalking me now?” Lando asks as he approaches, tone light.

Oscar’s mouth twitches. “Maybe.”

“Bit creepy.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums. “You’ll cope.”

They fall into step together without thinking, taking the remaining few steps down the corridor toward Lando’s driver room.

Once inside, the door clicks shut behind them, the noise outside dulling instantly into something distant and manageable. The space is small, familiar, Lando’s kit half laid out, his helmet resting on the bench, everything exactly where it should be and yet none of it settles him. Oscar hovers for a second near the door, like he is giving Lando the room to choose what he needs, not crowding him, just a grounding presence.

Lando drags a hand through his hair, pacing once, twice, the adrenaline from qualifying still buzzing under his skin but turning sour at the edges. He stops eventually, shoulders tight, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor before he forces himself to look up at Oscar, the words pushing out before he can soften them. “I messed it up Osc.”

Oscar’s gaze flicks over his face, reading more than just the words. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Lando shakes his head once, quick. “Not… not yet.” Because if he starts now, in the middle of all this noise, he knows it will tip, knows it will turn into something bigger.

Oscar nods immediately. “Okay.” Oscar pauses for a moment, then adds softer, “What do you need? Is there anything you need from me?”

The question lands differently this time. Before, it would have frustrated him, or he would have brushed it off, said nothing, pushed through it alone because that felt easier than trying to explain. Now, he actually thinks about it, actually checks in with himself.

“I just… Can I have an hour?” he says finally. “Just… I need an hour on my own.”

Oscar doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, of course.” There’s no argument, no trying to convince him to stay, no pressure. “Come find me after?” Oscar adds with a hopeful look on his face.

“Yeah,” Lando nods. “Course I will.”

“Okay,” Oscar says as he turns to leave. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Lando heads out not too long after. He doesn’t disappear in the way he used to, there’s no storming out or shutting everyone out completely. He tells one of the engineers he will be back shortly, nods at Will when he passes him, keeps it contained.

He finds a quiet space away from the garages and hospitality units, somewhere the noise can’t quite reach him. Sits down, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together. And then he just sits and lets it be there, the frustration, the disappointment, the what ifs. They come anyway, the thoughts try to creep back in, sharper this time. But he cuts them off, not by pushing them down, not by pretending they’re not there, but by acknowledging them. The mistakes are not a reflection of everything else. They are not a spiral into every other bad session he has ever had. It was just this one time and he can use what happened, use the data and footage to learn from it so he gets better, he improves from it.

He exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face. It takes time, longer than he wants it to, but slowly the tightness in his chest eases and the noises in his head dull from a shout to something quieter, something he can sort through.

By the time the hour is up, he’s not completely fine, but he’s steady, grounded, and that feels like a win in itself.

When he finds Oscar again, he is exactly where he said he would be. He’s sitting on the couch in his driver's room, changed out of his McLaren branded clothes and into his own usual shorts and plain t-shirt. He’s scrolling through his phone, but his attention flicks up almost immediately when Lando opens the door.

“Hey,” Lando says with a small smile.

“Hey.” Oscar studies him for a second, taking in the difference, the way his shoulders have dropped, the way his breathing is even again. “How are you?” Oscar winces slightly once the words are out. “Can I ask that? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to ask at the moment. Like will talking about how you feel make it worse, or…”

“Osc,” Lando interrupts his rambling with a laugh. “It’s okay. You can ask me how I am?”

Oscar lets out a breath of relief. “Okay, how are you?”

Lando nods. “I’m good. I uh…” he takes a deep breath. “Can we talk through it? My quali lap.”

Oscar’s expression shifts, eyes widen a fraction but still gentle. “Yeah Lando, of course.”

Lando moves to sit beside Oscar on the couch, tucking his legs up underneath him as the side of his body presses fully against Oscar’s. Oscar grabs his tablet from where it’s on the table beside the couch, pulling up Lando’s lap, the data already there waiting.

“This is where I lost it,” he says, pointing to the middle sector. “Carried too much speed in, tried to force it instead of letting it come to me.”

Oscar leans in slightly, following along. “You were up before that.”

“Yeah,” Lando says. “Which is why I didn’t need to push it.”

Oscar glances at him briefly, like he is checking for something, then nods. “Rear looked a bit loose even on the earlier laps.”

“It was,” Lando agrees. “I just… over corrected.”

Oscar hums, thinking. “You’ll have opportunities tomorrow. It’s not like this track is impossible to overtake on.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ve been quick all weekend.”

Lando huffs a quiet laugh. “One lap says otherwise.”

“Hey,” Oscar nudges his shoulder lightly. “One lap doesn’t define the whole weekend.”

Lando looks at him then. There’s no pressure in Oscar’s expression, no expectation, just pure belief that Lando can turn things into a positive in the race tomorrow.

He lets out a breath, something loosening in his chest again. “Thank you.”

Oscar tilts his head slightly, watching him, patient as ever. “For what?”

Lando hesitates for half a second, like he is figuring out how to put it into words, then exhales, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For earlier,” he says, quieter now. “For asking me what I needed.”

Oscar’s expression softens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“And actually listening when I said it,” Lando adds, a small, almost self-conscious huff of a laugh slipping out. “You didn’t push or try to fix anything. You just… let me have it.”

Oscar shrugs lightly, like its nothing, even though it’s not. “You asked for an hour. It wasn’t an unreasonable request Lando.”

“Yeah,” Lando nods. “And I didn’t disappear for the whole night, I didn’t shut everyone out, I just…” he trails off, searching, “…stepped back for a bit.” His gaze flicks up properly now, meeting Oscar’s. “That’s new for me.”

Oscar’s mouth curves faintly. “Seemed to work.”

Lando huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I guess it did.” He shifts his weight, hands coming to rest on his laps. “And then coming back and actually talking about it instead of pretending it didn’t happen.”

Oscar nods once. “Also new.”

“Shocking, I know.”

That earns him a small smile.

Lando’s expression softens slightly, something steadier settling in his chest now. “So… yeah. Thank you for that. For… all of it, I guess.”

Oscar holds his gaze for a moment, like he is weighing it, then says simply, “You did the hard part.”

Lando shakes his head but says nothing. There is a pause, not awkward, just the kind that sits between them without needing to be filled.

Then Oscar nudges his shoulder again, lighter this time. “You’re still allowed to be annoyed about the lap, by the way.”

Lando snorts. “Oh, I am, don’t worry.” Lando glances at him, a hint of a smile pulling at his mouth now. “Thanks for the vote of confidence by the way, for believing in me.”

“Always,” Oscar smiles back at him.

They keep talking, working through the data piece by piece, not dwelling, just understanding. They discuss strategy options, where he can make places, where he needs to be careful. It feels normal and somewhere in the middle of it, Lando realises something quietly, almost without noticing, the spiral never took hold.

…

They end up back in Lando’s hotel room once they arrive back at the hotel. It’s the early hours of the morning but Lando sits on the edge of the bed, phone in his hands, staring at the screen for a second longer than necessary.

Oscar lingers nearby at first, giving him space without leaving, leaning against the desk, watching without making it obvious.

Lando exhales slowly. “I’m gonna call her.”

Oscar nods immediately. “Okay.”

There is no question of whether Oscar should stay or go. Lando moves to one side and pats the bed next to him. Oscar responds instantly, shifting closer and settling beside Lando on the bed.

Lando dials before he can overthink it. It rings once, twice, then, “Hi Lando.” Something in his chest loosens at the familiarity of it.

“Hi Dr Mercer,” he says, quieter than he expects. He glances down as he feels Oscar’s hand find his, fingers threading together without hesitation. Lando tightens his grip instinctively, grounding himself in it. “I… had a bit of a moment today after quali.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asks, calm, steady.

And he does. He talks through the lap, the mistake, the way it felt in the moment, the way the spiral started to build. But this time, it sounds different coming out of him, less like a confession, more like a reflection.

“I caught it earlier,” he says after a moment, glancing down at where their hands are still laces together. “Like… I could feel it starting, but it didn’t get as far.”

There is a pause on the other end. “That’s a significant positive shift in your mindset Lando.”

Lando lets out a small breath. “Yeah, I uh… I think so.” He rubs his thumb absently over Oscar’s knuckles as he continues. “I didn’t just disappear either,” he adds. “I told Oscar, told him what I needed from him in that moment. There were no assumptions made.”

Oscar’s grip tightens slightly at his name, a quiet acknowledgement, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“And what did that feel like?” she asks.

Lando thinks about it properly this time. “Weird,” he admits, a faint huff of a laugh escaping him. “Like… I kept expecting it to turn into something bigger anyway, but it didn’t. I just… took the time, sat with it, then came back and went through it properly.” He pauses, then adds, almost like he’s realising it as he says it, “It didn’t feel like I was running away, just… stepping back.”

“That’s not avoidance,” she says. “That’s regulation.”

Lando nods, even though she cannot see it. “Yeah.”

He glances at Oscar again, takes in the way he is watching him, steady, calm, like none of this changes anything about how he sees him.

“I think…” Lando hesitates, then pushes through it. “I think I’m starting to get it. Like, I don’t have to choose between things.”

“Between what things?”

He exhales slowly. “Racing and… everything else.”

His thumb stills against Oscar’s hand for a second before he continues. “I always thought it had to be one or the other. That if I let anything else matter, it would mess with the racing. Or if the racing got hard, everything else would fall apart with it.”

Oscar’s fingers tighten around his, just slightly.

“But today…” Lando says, quieter now, “it didn’t.” He looks down at their hands again, then back up, staring at nothing in particular. “I had a bad session. I felt it start, and I didn’t lose it. I didn’t push everyone away. I asked for what I needed, took it, then came back.”

Oscar’s breath catches almost imperceptibly beside him.

There is a softness in his psych’s voice when she responds. “What does that tell you?”

Lando lets the question sit for a second. “That maybe I can do both,” he says finally. “Handle the pressure and… have something healthy at the same time.” The word healthy feels deliberate, earned.

“And how does it feel to consider that?” she asks.

Lando huffs out a quiet breath, something almost like disbelief threading through it. “Good, I think,” he adds after a second. “Scary but… good.”

They talk a little longer after that, grounding it, reinforcing it, turning it into something solid rather than something fleeting. By the time he hangs up, the room feels quieter in a different way, it feels settled.

Lando drops his phone onto the bed beside him, shoulders loosening as he exhales.

Oscar nudges him lightly. “You alright?”

Lando turns his head to look at him, something softer in his expression now, something steadier. “Yeah,” he says. Lando studies him for a second, then leans in just enough to press a brief kiss to his shoulder, grounding himself in something real. “I think I can do this,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything.

Oscar’s hand tightens around his. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I think you can too.”

“I love you,” Lando whispers.

“I love you too Lando.”