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❝ of all the elements
I’ll say that I’m snow
melting on impact
from your warmth ❞
Nose cold, feeling too much like ice and he knows he should go back inside, where it’s warm and cozy. String lights, a rented house decorated for the holidays and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, thinks he should have headed back to his parents already. It’s all white lies, and excuses of having to work, vague explanations followed by a promise to be home in time for Christmas. Outside it’s cold, the low crackle of a fire pit and Lando’s tugging his jacket tightly around himself. There’s twinkling lights inside of the house, all golden hued and faintly rainbow, elaborate and he can’t bring himself to ask the other man if this was all for him or if it was normal behavior.
Back door slides open, light steps on brick and Lando keeps himself seated in the middle of the bench. Hands tucked into his sleeves, ears turning pink from the temperature and he can’t help but turn, smile pulling onto full lips. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, uneasy flutter at the look he’s given and words catch in his throat. Fire crackles, warmth drifting towards him and he wants to blame that for the heat settling into his chest.
Mug held out, topped with a half hazard swirl of whipped cream, a dusting of cinnamon and Lando takes it. Fingers wrap around it for warmth, weight settling beside him and he’s struggling to look at the other man. They’ve had plenty of interactions in the past, mostly racing and work related, enough to have each other’s number. This was different, had been a whim of his own, was something he hadn’t mentioned to anyone.
“Thanks,” Brunet half mutters, has yet to take a sip as Pato settles into the bench beside him, his own drink in hand.
“Of course,” The man hums, steam wafting from the mug. “But if you’re too cold we can go back inside.”
Slight shake of the head and Lando watches the whip cream sway with the movement, slowly melting into the mug. He leans forward, is taking a sip, all cream and none of the drink, barely tastes the hot chocolate on his tongue.
“Good?” Pato asks, a quirk to the lips.
“Yeah it’s...” Bright eyes turn, are catching on the other’s face and his thoughts fall away, are replaced with insistent curiosity.
He thinks about a text that had felt out of place, that came in the middle of the night when he knew the other should have been asleep.
Idle thoughts, gaze held and heat bubbles up, spills out in the form of words.
“Are you a big fan of the holidays?” Gaze flicks back towards the home, to the string lights and decorations. Lando tries to not linger on the Christmas tree tucked into the corner, the star glowing atop. It’s messy, reminds him of home, sharp sting of guilt hitting him.
Pato glances back, towards the house and hums in response, takes a sip of his own drink.
Not a real answer, buying time.
Fire licks up into the air, logs glowing and brunet’s pulling his eyes away, licks at his lips. Faintly sweet from whipped cream, fingers rubbing over the mug and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. “I was just curious,” He adds, is giving the other man a way out, to ease the awkwardness of the situation.
“I do,” Pato answers, is leaning forward, posture mimicking the brunets. “But that wasn’t the reason I decorated.”
Lando makes a sound in response, is going to take a sip of the drink only to stop half way. Mug lowered, grip adjusted and the nagging curiosity is back, has been lingering in the back of his mind the moment he arrived. Guest room in the rented home undecorated, bland almost and it held his suitcase, open with items scattered about the bed. A physical display of his anxiety over what to wear, how to look or act.
“And the other reason?”
He takes a sip of his drink, lowers the mug and frowns.
Pato smirks beside him.
“Good no?”
“Why is it spicy?” Tongue pokes out and brunet is licking at the roof of his mouth, is trying to chase the heat away. A mild burn to his throat, to the back of his tongue and he’s momentarily forgetting what he asked.
Small laughter to his side, a gentle bump to his arm and it reminds Lando just how close they were, how if he leaned over he could rest his head against Pato’s shoulder.
“It’s to help warm you.”
Disgruntled sound, tongue lapping at melting whipped cream.
Fire place crackles and he doesn’t have enough time to register the eyes on him, the eager flip of his gut at the attention. Pato busies himself with a sip of his own drink, less extravagant looking with minimal whipped cream and their eyes catch on each other. Tongue drags over his lower lip, licks up the bit of cream from the corner of his mouth and Lando’s looking away again. Nose pink, ears flushed red and he’s suddenly thankful for the freezing temperatures.
“Pretty sure there’s better ways to keep warm.” He says with an airy laugh spilling out, a shiver that runs down his spine and Pato is looking away again. He takes another sip of his own drink, both hands wrapped around the mug and Lando tries to not focus on how tight the man’s grip seemed. Eyes pull back towards the fire pit, focus on glowing embers, on the scent of burning wood and not his words falling short. Silence settles between them, bodies huddled together and it’s telling, is something Lando hopes the man picks up on.
He feels like ice, small shivers washing over him, tremors that he tries to push down.
Going inside meant twinkling lights, meant the heady scent of evergreen and pine, distance created and he still can’t figure out what he’s doing.
“I can turn the lights off if you don’t like it.” Casual shrug, a brush against his shoulder and Lando’s attention is shifting. Gaze having been on glass doors, on light filtering into the dark and he gives a small shake of the head.
“No, they’re fine I... I like them.” Lips press together, eyes pulled away, and there’s another shiver. He’s cold, feels it creeping into his limbs and it’s verging on uncomfortable.
“So I did good?” Touch of breathlessness, of uncertainty and it’s followed by silence.
Eyes shut, jaw tense and Lando’s nodding, another soft laugh falling out, a low chuckle.
He doesn’t trust himself to speak, feels like he’s been fumbling over his words all evening.
“Good, good,” Pato says, is taking another sip of his drink.
Fire crackles and silence settles between them, the kind that only comes on cold winter nights, is accompanied by still air, and a sense of being isolated. Brunet clings to his mug, can’t help but think a clear sky would have made the entire evening picturesque and postcard worthy. Instead it’s cloudy, overcast, with the moon hidden from view, the only light coming from the fire pit and string lights hung up inside.
He’s taking a sip of his own drink, whipped cream melting and slowly overflowing the mug. Prominent sweetness, a richness to the hot cocoa that came from using milk and Lando relishes in the sugar. It’s almost immediately replaced by spice and heat, a feeling that burns the back of his throat, and it pulls a cough from him. Hand comes up to cover his mouth, fingers sticky from sloshing liquid and Pato’s taking the mug from him.
Half smile on the man’s lips, an expression Lando want’s to try and understand except he feels like his mouth is on fire.
“Too much?” Genuine concern directed his way and it’s alarming, “I can make some without chili if you want?”
Shake of the head in response, brunet feeling like he was burning and god did he hate anything spicy. “No it’s fine I just,” Muddled thoughts and he’s dragging his tongue against his teeth like it might help. “Maybe just some milk to cut the heat?” He feels sheepish, hates the idea that he’s rejecting something the other made, is reaching for the mug again.
Amusement pulls at Pato’s lips, a sight that quells the sudden flare of nerves and the drink is handed back with ease. “I don’t mind, there’s a lot of stuff in the kitchen.” He inches forward on the bench, knee bumping against Lando’s as he goes to stand. “Come, you can help this time.”
Flames lick at the air, momentary warmth that’s lost the second they move away from the firepit. Cold air hits him, small specks floating down from the sky that he hadn’t noticed before, melted by the heat. It’s enough to have Lando pause and look up, eyes focusing on dark clouds, trying to catch sight of more snow. Glass door slides open, warm air seeping out and his attention shifts, eyes dropping back towards the other man.
“It’s snowing,” He says in way of explanation, is moving back towards the rented house, towards string lights and festive decorations.
“It’s supposed to.” There’s a knowing look in the other man’s eyes, a playful smile on his lips that Lando saw the moment he arrived. He still can’t quite grasp what it means, hates how on edge it leaves him, how he feels like shivering every time.
It’s warmer inside but not by much, is enough to ease the chill that Lando feels in his bones, chase away the sense of being frozen from the inside out. His mouth is still on fire, lips tingling and he wants the sensation to stop. He hates the feeling of heat on his tongue, hates how it’s contradictory to everything he was feeling. Brunet slides the back door shut, gives a fleeting look towards the elaborate tree tucked into the corner of the living room before moving to the kitchen. Bright lights hum, Pato’s mug left on the counter as he pulls out a small sauce pan.
“You really don’t have to make more,” Lando starts, is setting his drink down on the counter, can see the drying streaks of spilt chocolate on the side of the mug. “I can just add milk to it.” Faucet turned on and he’s rinsing his hand, washes away the sticky residue from his fingers.
“I don’t mind, too much chili for my fresa, should have known with the taste buds of a toddler.”
Water shut off, hands dried on a towel and Lando makes a disgruntled sound at that word. “I told you I’m not...” Words trail off, mind catching up to what’s been said, to the way it’s phrased.
Pato pulls open the door to the fridge, is setting the milk on the counter.
That knowing smile is back, playful as he pulls cinnamon and vanilla from the cabinet, cocoa powder and sugar. “You’re not what? Fresa...” Milk uncapped, poured into the sauce pan before placed back in the fridge. “Or not mine?”
“I...” Lando starts, thoughts slipping and he can’t help but think about the decorations in the rented space, the fire pit outside.
The snow falling.
“...not fresa…” He finishes, back pressed up against the kitchen counter, out of the way as Pato looks at him. Gaze held, mild surprise showing in his eyes and it’s almost too much, startling in a way. Lando blinks first, eyes pulling down, back towards the mugs sitting on the counter beside him. Jittery nerves flaring, the ever present need to shiver and he’s opening his mouth, feels like he needs to say something more.
“Why did you decorate?” Abrupt question, curiosity nagging at the back of his mind and it’s easier then dealing with what should be said. “You’re only here for... what another week?”
Pato clicks the heating element on, small sauce pan nearly forgotten. He turns and pulls a whisk from one of the drawers, makes a sound in response, contemplative. “I wanted to play make believe even if it was only a couple of days.” Casual words, easy posture and it only adds to Lando’s increasing nerves.
“...oh...” He sounds disheartened to his own ears, attention focused on the two mugs. Whipped cream over flowing, sticky sweet liquid drying on porcelain and brunet’s picking his own back up. Glass turned, the side with more whipped cream facing him and he’s licking at it. Heat settles onto the back of his neck, is accompanied by an uncomfortable twist in his gut and there’s still a chill to the tip of his nose.
Lando takes a sip of the drink, only for the mug to be gently pried from his hands.
“It’s only going to get worse.”
He already knows this, can feel the spice on his tongue, knows that the whipped cream had done nothing to negate it. Mouthful swallowed down and brunet’s turning his head, coughs into his arm, a sound that morphs into a laugh at the end. He feels anything but cool, hates the flare of embarrassment in his chest, the amused smile he’s given in return.
“See,” Pato teases, mug being placed back on the counter. “Too much chili, just wait a few minutes and I’ll make you some more.”
Lando huffs, is wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, tongue on fire. He’s cold and hot at the same time, tries to fight back on another shiver, a tremor that runs through him but fails miserably. The bright lights of the kitchen are too much, feel like spotlights on track, blinding. Pato’s looking at him again, an openly warm and affectionate gaze and it’s too much. Brunet knows he’s a glutton for punishment, is contemplating picking the hot cocoa back up, lapping at melted whipped cream again.
He’s probably the worst and most obvious flirt.
“What do you mean play make believe?” Bright eyes turn up, find Pato watching him. “I’m... curious?” Words fumbled and he doesn’t know what to do with the other man’s attention, with the uncertainty lingering between them.
“I wanted to spend the holidays with you.” The corners of Pato’s lips twitch up, smile sliding into place and it’s alarmingly soft.
Lando makes a small sound in his throat, hands gripping the countertop, doesn’t know what to do with the look he’s being given. Lips part, words catching on his teeth and he feels the anxiety slowly seep out, verbal confirmation to what he’d already suspected. Air escapes him in an unsteady exhale and he’s looking down, has to shy away from the openness of it. Too much all at once, weak chuckle filling the silence and the small tremors are back.
“I... I like that.”
“Yeah?” It’s Pato who sounds surprised, like he hadn’t been expecting this, hadn’t figured out what might happen. He’d been avoiding saying it the entire evening, had managed to talk around the bright lights and festive decorations.
Small nod of the head, eyes pulling back up and Lando can feel the eager twist of his stomach.
He still can’t figure out how to get his thoughts into words, say what he needs to.
“Lando,” The other man starts, tone gentle and soft, “Can I give you a hug?”
“Would you? Please?” Brunet can’t help how he sounds, the airy quality to his words, how strained they were. He’s pushing away from the counter, is falling into Pato’s space with ease, arms curling around shoulders. It’s all lean muscle and a solid warm presence, is comforting in ways that he couldn’t even imagine. He sinks into the touch, to the easy grip of his waist, grounding and it’s comforting to know that he could pull away if he needed.
Head tilts, nose brushing against skin and Lando tucks himself up against Pato, can almost hear his own pulse thundering in his ears. Shivery, jittery nerves slowly ebb and the other man’s hold is soothing, the balm to his anxiety. Brunet leans heavily against him, is struck with the desire to go lax, to bask in the smallest bit of affection.
“You’re cold,” Half mumbled words and Pato gives him a small squeeze, drags a palm over his back. Pressure muted through the thick layers of his jacket, barely there but it’s enough, pulls a low hum from Lando’s chest.
“We were outside.” Half muttered words, humid air against the man’s neck.
“You should have said something.”
Small squeeze to his hip, nose dragging along his cheek and he takes his cue, leans back. Pato holds him close, both arms wrapped around his waist. Small shiver runs through him again, one that he knows has nothing to do with the ambient air and everything with the man before him. Undeniably close, shared breath and Lando’s pressing his lips together tightly, has to look away. He can feel the heat on his face, flushed from cold air and now open sincerity coupled with genuine interest.
“I didn’t want...” He starts, feels like he’s tripping over his words all over again. “To come inside, yet.” Arms pull back, uncurl from Pato’s shoulders and he can’t help but rest his hands against the other’s chest. Grip on him loosened, and Lando feels like somethings been knocked loose inside of him, thinks that he’s crumbling under caring gestures and kind words. He could step away with ease, create space if needed, if his nerves became to fraught.
Instead he lingers there, head spinning from the barely there weight of hands against his waist.
Small sound in his chest, face impossibly hot and Lando forces himself to look up, to hold Pato’s gaze. The desire to let his thoughts spill out is nearly impossible to hold back, an avalanche of disconnected ideas, of wishing they had a chance to talk about this sooner. Instead there’s a small tilt to the other man’s head, foreheads bumping together and Lando’s swallowing his anxiety back down. Shivery nerves eased, replaced by the faint scent of something nutty and warm, of spice and pine and he’s closing his eyes.
“Can I... kiss my fresa?”
Lips press together tightly, are parting as a small airy chuckle falls out, breathless.
“Yeah - please...”
Lando doesn’t open his eyes, head tilting at warmth ghosting against skin, humid breath falling against him. Feather light touch, fleeting and it sucks all the air from his lungs. It’s startling at best, head tilting and he fights against the urge to press in, to take more then what’s being given. Light pressure against his mouth, slotted together and it’s gentle, leaves him feeling like he might break from something as simple as a kiss.
Small shivers, full body trembles and Pato leans back just enough for Lando to catch his breath, for the world to start spinning once more.
He’s dizzy, lips tingling from the chili pepper in his drink, faint sweetness still on his tongue, overshadowed by heat.
Another kiss, and it lingers, a promise for more.
Lando grips at Pato’s shirt, head spiraling and he’s forgetting how to breathe. There’s just enough pressure, accepting and coaxing, no push for anything more and lips seal with ease. Mouths slotted together, unhurried movements and brunet’s hyperaware of every little touch, of the barely there scratch of facial hair, of Pato’s hands pulling him closer. Warmth blossoms in his chest, spreads down to his toes and Lando is pliant, lips parting, open invitation. Flick of tongue against his own, and the man tastes of chili and chocolate, is all spice and sweetness.
The pot on the stovetop pops behind them, milk bubbling to a full boil and it’s alarming, has Pato leaning back. Head turns, flush on pale skin and brunet’s trying to remember how to breathe normally. Lips and tongue tingling, side affect of the chili and he wants more, doesn’t know why it’s taken them this long to get here. Hand from his waist pulls back, reaches for the dial on the stovetop and Pato’s clicking it back off. Pot pulled off the element, set on another and he’s letting out a small laugh.
“Oops, scalded the milk.”
“Don’t care,” Soft laugh of his own, giggly and he’s still lightheaded from it all. “Told you that you didn’t need to make more.” One arm still curled around him, world twisting and he leans forward, hides against Pato’s shoulder.
“Ahhhh I was distracted, and just because you say that doesn’t mean I won’t.” Head tilts and he presses a kiss to heated skin, noses lightly at soft brown curls. “Besides you’re still cold, it’ll help.”
Lando gives a small shake of the head, movement stunted. He feels the small squeeze to his hip, doesn’t want to pull back, thinks that he can’t stand on his own just yet. Knees weak, the fluttery feeling in his chest consuming and he needs a moment. It’s given in the form of both arms curling around him, in a light squeeze, a hand rubbing along his back and soft kisses to his cheek.
“Go sit down, I’ll make you another drink and we can watch a movie or something.”
“What about the fire outside?”
“It’ll burn itself out.”
Lack of movement and it’s clear that Pato’s waiting for Lando to pull back first, doesn’t want to rush him. There’s another kiss pressed against his cheek, soothing and warm and brunet leans back just enough for lips to seal against his own. Reassurance in the smallest touches, in hands lingering at his waist until there’s space between them, bodies disconnected. Lando let’s his own hands trail along Pato’s arms, fingers curling against warm palms, small squeeze to his hands and he finally looks the other man in the eye again.
Smile falls into place, eyes bright and shiny and he feels foolish, hates the first thing that comes to mind. The thought spills out, vocalized as the filter between his mind and mouth is momentarily lost.
“...que... qué chulo...”
Pato grins, a wide face splitting smirk and they both let out a laugh, easy and bright. It’s ridiculous, wasn’t anywhere close to what Lando was wanting to say, but it works. He’s grinning despite the nervous flutter in his chest, grounded by the smallest things, by the hands still holding his own. The chill from being outside is gone, replaced by a warm fuzzy sensation in his chest, the jittery nerves every time the other man looks at him.
“Cute,” Pato can’t help it, wants to lavish praise on Lando, wants to see him fidget and squirm from it. “Good boy for remembering.”
High pitched laugh, something too close to a giggle and brunet looks away, feels like his face is on fire now.
“That’s about all I remember.”
“And fresa, you know that one well.” Roll of the eyes, hands still held, and he’s opening his mouth in protest. Pato makes a sound, an amused hum in his throat, is talking over him before he can even respond. “Ah - ah, nope, just accept it. Besides strawberry is cute no? Fresa, strawberry, diva, all cute.” Shrug added in and Lando makes another sound, bubbly and bright, is finally pulling his hands away.
“I’m picking the Grinch.” He calls back, is making a direct line for the couch.
“Cartoon or?” Pato follows after him, stands at the edge of the kitchen. He’s flushed, much in the same way Lando is, and if it were any other moment he might try and take a picture, save it for himself. A keepsake to tuck away, to look back on.
“Whichever is on Netflix.” Jacket from being outdoors is finally discarded, tossed onto the chair in the living room. Lando drops down on the couch, seated in the middle and he looks back at the other man, expression shifting, smile turning soft, shy almost. “We could...Netflix and chill? You don’t have to make hot chocolate to keep me warm.” He doesn’t lean back into cushions, sits on the edge of his seat, hands fidgeting for a moment.
Pato hums in response, picking his words with care.
“We will - just not tonight. Fresa had a nice long flight and needs his beauty sleep.”
Small snort, pull at his lips and brunet gives a shake of his head. There’s a low simmering heat inside of him now, eager bubble with the promise of later, that things won’t change when the sun comes up.
“Fineeeeee,” Long drawn out sound and he drops back against the cushions, fully sinks into the couch. “But I expect to be pampered to the fullest.” Almost a pout, words adding to the warmth sitting inside of him, and he doesn’t have the nerve to see Pato’s expression.
“Ah - see, fresa.” The man adds before disappearing back into the kitchen.
Remotes swiped off the coffee table, large television turned on and it takes him longer then necessary to navigate, to pull up his chosen movie. Water runs in the kitchen, dishes clacking together and Lando listens to Pato, to the stovetop clicking back on, to a whisk stirring, to the click of the element being shut off. Head turns and he looks back at the tree, to the string lights and ornaments. Shiny bobbles reflecting warm light, bouncing around the rented house.
Soft steps, Pato padding back into the room and Lando doesn’t look at him right away. Mugs are set on the coffee table, and the couch dips beside him, gravity pulling him in close. Brunet doesn’t fight it, lets himself fall against the other man’s side.
“You should have told me, that you wanted to spend Christmas together.” Head tilts and Lando sinks down, curls up against Pato, into his space. He feels an arm curl around him, hand resting at his waist, tries to ignore how it stalls his mind, leaves his own palms warm. Fingers press at buttons on the remote, hit play on the movie only for it to be gently tugged from his grasp. Screen paused, and Lando knows he should look, knows that the other man is waiting.
He’s kissed after a moment, lips pressing into curls, “I didn’t want to make you pick between me and your family.”
“I could have got you a gift though.” Small shift, a turn of the head and he feels like his hearts in his throat all over again. “Especially with... all of this...”
“You can still get a gift if you want, I’d be happy with anything from you.”
“Anything?” There’s a pull to his lips, grin sliding into place and Lando turns on the couch, faces the other man properly.
“Anything.” Pato repeats, honest sincerity on full display.
He’s kissed, a lingering press of the lips before Lando’s pulling back, all bright eyes and flush to his face.
“Come spend new years eve with me.” It’s said in a rush, eagerness and nerves showing, like he might lose his nerve if he doesn’t say it now.
“I’d love to.”
Small pull to his waist and Pato is kissing him again, leaves Lando with the taste of chili and chocolate, the heady scent of fresh pine.
“I’d love to.” Words repeated, spoken against skin with an ever present patience that brunet wants to drown in.