Anytime

by shampoobottlrealness

Summary:

Oscar shrugged, “I don’t know mate my friend advise pretty much levels out after getting your head out your arse.” Lando groaned. “But I could recommend, oh I don’t know, text him.”

Lando’s head shot up, “What? Text him for the first time in months just to say “Hey, btw I’m in love with you?”

Chapter 1: Red

 

"Well that just about wraps it up, thank you all for coming! I know we all wanna go home and take a much-needed break, but remember not to fall too off track, we have to finalize some things for next season as soon as we get back!" Zac's voice echoed around the room and the moment his sentence was finished Lando was up and out of the room, practically leaving dust clouds in his wake.

"Lando! Mate!" came a familiar voice as he rounded the corner on his way out the front exist. He turned to see Oscar running after him, "Christ mate, you're ready to get out of here."

Lando shifted, "Yeah, sorry, guess I just really want to take advantage of the break y'know?"

Oscar smiled, " 'Course, sorry, I was just gonna ask you to keep in touch, alright? I know we've only known each other a season, but... I like you, you're a great teammate and friend. I don't want you to think we, like, can't hang out now that the seasons are over."

 Lando smiled, turning to face him fully, "Awww, Oscar! Are you gonna miss me?"

 Oscar rolled his eyes, but his face reddened slightly, "Whatever, mate, I'm serious."

 "Yeah, yeah I know, don't worry I'll try not to drop off the face of the earth," Lando assured him, "How 'bout you come round my place Saturday and we can hang out, play video games or something?"

 "What so you can complain while I kick your ass? What was it last time? You were convinced an AI Bowser had it out for you right?"

 Lando rolled his eyes, muttering something about the statistical unlikelihood of being hit by green shells, "Maybe no Mario Kart this time then?"

 "Deal," Oscar said, "I'll be there. See ya!"

 He turned away, and Lando continued his B-line for his car.

 

___________________________

 

 

Lando wasn't sure he liked breaks that much. On the one hand, it meant he didn't have to wake up at the crack of dawn practically every day in a new hotel room every week. Feeling the constant strain on his muscles as he tried to maneuver his way out of his bed. On the other hand... it was boring. 

During the season, things were constantly moving. There was always something he should be doing, something he would have to do, and something he should have already done, but forgotten about. Either he was moving, or everyone around him was. He'd get out of a race, adrenaline high, blood coursing through his veins. If it went well the team would go out and party, and he'd drink a little, or a lot. Letting the high of success take over his mind. Either way if/when he ended up back at his hotel he'd be passed on the second his head hit the pillow. If it went bad, he'd lock himself in his hotel room, and rack his brain for hours about what he could have done. Maybe get drunk on overpriced wine coolers from the hotel fridge, and still end up passed out with a blurry memory.

With no races, no celebration, and fewer high-intensity workouts, he was left with nothing but an empty apartment and his own thoughts. Thoughts that liked to wander to topics he'd previously hoped were shut down.

Carlos was everywhere in Lando's mind. No matter how much he tried to distract himself. He tried making himself a snack but ended up overwhelmed with imaginary images of them together in Lando's kitchen, cooking early in the morning while the rest of the world slept with soft touches and warm blankets. He tried video games, which had previously been the only other constant in his life, but when his computer opened to the last loaded game, F1 23, he found himself staring at Carlos's model and silently pointing out the inaccuracies, like the shape of his eyes, and the plumpness of his bottom lip. Lando ended up leaving his gaming setup with a groan and turning to what would be his last resort. Laundry.

A seemingly simple, mundane, and Carlos-free task turned to Lando sitting teary-eyed on the floor of his living room, Ferrari sweatshirt in hand, and thinking back on the night he got it.

 ...........

"You're kidding! Did he really!" Oscar's voice echoed around Lando's hotel room.

 "I swear! He was totally off track! No one seemed to care though 'cause we weren't in the points," Logan sighed, taking a sip of whatever concoction they had managed to scrounge up with the things in the room. Lando had invited Oscar, who had then invited Logan, who invited Alex, who seemingly invited half the grid. No one in the room was the race winner, or even on the podium. They were likely out celebrating, while the rest were left to complain and drink away their sorrows.

 Lando was on the couch talking with Alex about something, which was likely insignificant as he could no longer remember, and the Ferarri boys showed up. They were welcomed by everyone and offered drinks as if they hadn't been fighting toward the same unreachable goal just hours ago on the track. As they walked in and dispersed chatting with whoever, Lando found his eyes following one in particular. 

Charles seemed like a nice guy. Lando hadn't hung out with him more than anyone else on the grid. He was a colleague, a friend of a friend. Lando barely had any right to form an opinion of him, and yet here he was, hating him.

He hated how happy he looked. He hated how confident he seemed, and how easy it was for him to start conversations with anyone. Most of all, he hated that he was wearing the same sweatshirt as Carlos; classic Ferrari red, embroidered and patterned with various logos as it sat atop his shoulders. Alex had long since moved on, clearly sensing Lando's disinterest in the conversation.

“Oye cabron? You alright?”

Lando jolted and turned to meet the eyes that had been at the forefront of his mind for months. “What?” he asked stupidly.

Carlos smiled, that stupid beautiful smile, and sat down on the couch across from Lando, throwing his hoodie, over the arm “How much have you had to drink? It is still early, no?”

Lando glanced down at the glass he hadn’t taken a sip of since Oscar first handed it to him.

“Oh, uh, not a lot really, guess I’m just kind of tired,” Lando lied.

“Oh, well we can leave if you like? No one would mind I’m sure,” Carlos offered, he moved to stand but Lando reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him, pulling his hand back quickly as if he had been burned when he realized what he did.

“No, no, sorry, It’s fine, I like the, uh, distraction I guess,” He admitted.

“Busy mind?” Carlos asked, giving Lando that honest, understanding, and sympathetic look that made him want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. “Y’know I think music helps, give me different words to focus on.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if that would really work with this,” Lando pulled one of his knees to his chest and rested his chin on it.

“We could always talk about it if you’d like?” Carlos offered.

Lando shook his head quicker than he probably should have, “No, no, It’s okay, I just-I-”

“No need to explain,” Carlos said, reaching out and resting his hand on Lando’s forearm, Lando’s eyes shot down to it without permission, “I understand, it was just an offer, but it always stands. Just because we are not on the same team anymore does not mean we are no longer friends, yes?”

Lando smiled and nodded but his heart ached. “Yeah,” he said simply.

Carlos smiled and retracted his hand, Lando missed the feeling instantly. “So how are you feeling about Silverstone? Home race soon!”

Lando smiled and fell into an easy conversation about racing. He understood it. It made sense. He could talk about the specs of the car, and his strategy, and critique himself or someone else easily. His feelings made much less sense. Part of him wished that speaking to Carlos made him more nervous, more uncomfortable. His awkwardness could give him an excuse to avoid him. Yet, anytime Carlos started a conversation, Lando found himself drawn into the sound of his voice and the brightness of his eyes. His ears going fuzzy at the sound of his laugh.

His chest ached as everyone left his room an hour or so later. It wasn’t often they met up like this, a one-off that would happen a handful of times in a season, and Lando was worried this might be the last one. He was worried he might not get to talk to Carlos naturally for a while.

Still, he smiled, said his goodbyes, and began to get ready for bed. It wasn’t until he started the search for his phone that his eyes landed on the bright red fabric still lying on the arm of the couch.

He knew what he should have done. He should have given it back. Sent him a text to let him know he’d forgotten it and allow him to come back, or drop it off in the morning. But Lando’s mind was fuzzy, from the alcohol, he told himself, despite only having a sip. He stared at the sweatshirt for a few moments, his mind blank. 

He won't miss it. He determined, he races for Ferarri, they have thousands, he won't even notice it’s gone.

Lando knew it was strange, creepy even, but he found himself picking up the fabric and pulling it over his head. He was immediately hit with the familiar smell of Carlos’s cologne. The waistband fell just past his hips, just ever so slightly looser on him than it had been on Carlos. Looking back on it he wanted to stop himself, force it back off his shoulders, and return it. But his thoughts of Carlos were like a drug, and he was already too far gone.

Instead of falling asleep drunk off crappy wine, or expensive champagne, he fell asleep wrapped in Carlos’s sweatshirt, silent tears falling from his eyes.

…………

 

Carlos never mentioned it. Lando thought as he sat on the kitchen floor, wiping the last tears from his eyes. It had been several months since that night and not once did he mention a missing sweatshirt, or a memory of leaving it in Lando’s hotel room. It wasn’t like he couldn’t easily get another one, but still, Lando found himself paranoid every time he spoke to Carlos, not only about the secret of his feelings but also about the sweatshirt he had buried at the bottom of his suitcase.

He sighed, forcing himself to get up and go to his room. It was barely dark outside, but he was planning to see Oscar tomorrow, and he hoped maybe a good night's sleep would settle his mind enough to focus on his friend. He followed his regular routine, but as he was deciding whether or not to put on a shirt he found his eyes falling on the red hoodie he had thrown on the dresser.

“No.” He declared out loud, “No, nope, nahah, not tonight.”

He grabbed it and opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, a place where his other forgotten clothing was. Clothes others had bought him, or PR stuff he didn’t actually like. He buried the sweatshirt in the drawer and shoved it closed, forgetting about wearing a shirt altogether and climbing into bed.

He buried himself in the blanket, aggressively tugging at the duvet, and shifting until he felt comfortable enough to close his eyes. He sighed trying to let his body relax and let the frustration of the day fall away into his dreams.

Brown eyes, warm skin, red, gentle touches, soft lips, red, bright smiles, red, him, red, red, red, red.

 

Lando groaned, loud and frustrated. It was like Carlos was buried beneath his skin, like an itch that only spread the more he picked at it. He turned to his phone, moving to a random playlist and hitting shuffle. He needed something to focus on.

The song that was played was fine. Calm enough not to disturb him and recognizable enough that he could follow along with the lyrics. He found himself being pulled more and more into the song. His eyes suddenly felt heavy.

The song faded out, and another one began, slow at first. Lando’s eyes shot open as he recognized it. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing too notable, but Lando knew it was only in one of his playlists. One he devoted to playing during his more… intimate moments.

He rushed to turn it off, huffing and practically throwing his phone across the room, but it was too late, his mind had gone there .

 

Carlos was with him, alone, bright eyes meeting his as they stood in Lando’s apartment. Suddenly Carlos’s hands were on him, sliding down to fall on his hips and pulling him close into a kiss, Lando’s brain could manufacture it, but he knew it would be nothing like the real thing. Carlos was pushing, moving him through the doorway of his bedroom until the back of Lando’s knees hit the bed. He fell, grabbing Carlos’s collar and pulling him down with him. In a blink, their shirts were discarded, haphazardly thrown on the floor. His eyes scanned the blurry expanse of Carlos’s chest, defined muscle covered in soft tanned skin. Then Carlos was on him, lips meeting again as Lando’s legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. There was no sound, only flashes of images, but Lando imagined the noises he would make, how he would groan, how he would sound if Lando touched him. His mind was spinning, a messy collage of images mixed with the feeling of his hand pushed below the waistband of his shorts. He’d never gone this far before. Never allowed himself to, but there was a desperation now, and unlike during the season there was no one around to risk asking questions.

He thought about what Carlos’s mouth would feel like, taste like. He thought about Carlos with him, on him, in him. 

He finished faster than he wanted to admit.

He lay staring at the ceiling, mind spinning with regret. It felt invasive to imagine him like that. To imagine his friend like that. But the damage was done, and Lando knew at that moment that he’d crossed a line, and there was no going back.

 

_______________

“Mate, what’s going on?”

Lando blinked, head spinning as he looked between Oscar and the now-paused game they had been playing. They were lounging in Lando’s livingroom, late in the afternoon. Lando tried to focus on the game but found that sleeping had done nothing to help clear his brain. He’d barely even registered what game they picked.

“Sorry, just distracted, I guess,” He tried to unpause it, but Oscar reached for the TV remote and turned it off entirely, turning his body to face Lando full-on.

“Dude, you’ve been zoning out and staring into space randomly for weeks now. I didn’t want to say anything at first, figured you were just stressed or something, but seriously. Are you okay?” Oscar looked worried, maybe even a little scared, and suddenly he was filled with a different kind of regret.

He sat silent, not knowing what to say, and he knew that was an answer in itself.

Oscar blinked, “Mate, c’mon, you can talk to me, or someone else! Please, I just… I’m worried.”

Lando sighed and ran his hands down his face, groaning as he pulled his knee up to his chest and rested his forehead against it. He took a deep breath. 

He hadn’t known Oscar for very long, but the moment he met him Lando knew he’d be a friend for life. There was a nonchalance-ness about him. He cared about his friends, that was obvious as Lando had seen him and Logan together all the time. But still, Lando wasn’t sure how he’d react. He was almost positive he wouldn’t tell anyone, except for maybe Logan. But even one person knowing made his situation all the more real. Suddenly they weren’t just thoughts and images in his mind, they would be out in the world, solid and true. 

Yet the weight pushing down on his shoulders was becoming almost unbearable. He was restless, tossing and turning as he tried to sleep. His mind was spinning and completely enveloped in just one thought. His shoulders always seemed to be tense, and he wanted just a moment to relax while on break. So he ran his hand through his hair and took another deep breath, closing his eyes as the words left his mouth.

“I think I’m in love with Carlos.”

“Shit, really? Wow, y’know I thought I’d clocked everyone, Leclerc was obvious, but you, damn, can’t believe I missed it. Seems obvious now actually you always kinda looked at him like you wanted to jump him, I just thought you admired the guy,” Oscar was almost muttering to himself at this point.

Lando blinked, “I’m sorry, but what the hell are you talking about?”

Oscar looked up at him, “Oh sorry, just, I mean when I met Charles I figured out pretty quickly that he liked guys, and Carlos too actually, but you, I don’t know I guess you just seemed more fluid, like if you were you’d mention it, I don’t know, but a lot of stuff makes more sense now actually.”

Lando wanted to listen, wanted to understand, but his brain was caught at the beginning of Oscar's sentence.

“I…what do you mean ‘Carlos too’” Lando asked.

“Wha- oh that he likes guys, y’know that he’s bi,” Oscar punctuated his sentence with a sip of his water, remaining unaware of the level of shock coursing through Lando’s veins. He finally looked up and stopped when he noticed the wideness of Lando’s eyes and the way his mouth had fallen open, “What? You mean you didn’t know?”

Lando shook his head violently.

“Mate, he’s just about as gay as I am,” Oscar laughed, but Lando’s eyes only widened.

“You’re gay?!”

Oscar blinked setting his drink down, “Where do you keep your alcohol, we’re gonna need it for the rest of this conversation. Jesus, mate how oblivious are you.” He got up, making his way to Lando’s kitchen and searching through the cabinets.

Lando sat in shock, “What about Lily?”

Oscar looked confused, “Lily? As in my best friend?”

He blinked, “I guess I just assumed-”

“Ah, and there’s the problem now isn’t it, assumptions,” Oscar laughed, pouring himself and Lando a glass of the first thing Oscar found.

“So Carlos is…”

“Not entirely straight that’s for sure,” he passed the drink to Lando, “Which, if we’re going to wrap this back to my original question, means you have a chance, and if the way you look at each other is any indication, I would bet it’s a pretty good one.”

Lando blushed noticeably but shook his head, “No, nope I seriously doubt that. And for the record, if in some insane and unimaginable universe, he did like me, I still wouldn’t do anything about it.”

Oscar raised a suspicious eyebrow, “Really? Sure about that?”

“Yes.” Lando huffed, “I mean it would be a terrible idea! We’re on different teams for starters! We’d still have to compete against each other, think of how much of a mess that would be!”

“Ah,” Oscar smirked, “But the sexual tension? It would be unmatched.”

Lando glared, blushing, “You’re not taking this seriously,” taking a swig and feeling it burn his tongue. 

Oscar rolled his eyes, “Well mate neither are you! I mean really, you guys are absolutely perfect together. I’ve never seen either of you happier than when you’re together. I know him moving to Ferarri was rough, but are you really not even going to try? Just because it might make your job a little harder?”

Lando was silent for a while, and quiet, when he eventually spoke, “Fine. In theory, let's say I do decide I want to tell him. How the hell am I supposed to go about that?”

Oscar shrugged, “I don’t know mate my friend advice pretty much levels out after getting your head out your arse.” Lando groaned. “But I could recommend, oh I don’t know, text him.”

Lando’s head shot up, “What? Text him for the first time in months just to say “Hey, btw I’m in love with you?”

“Oh christ, no! You fucking idiot! Hang out with him, play golf, get comfortable, do it when it feels right. Have you never dated anyone before?”

Lando looked away.

“Shit, you’ve never dated anyone before have you?”

“No. Not technically anyway, or, well not with anyone I really liked… and never a guy,” he admitted.

“Alright, well, all the more reason to start slow,” Oscar said, patting his shoulder.

Lando sighed, contemplating, “I don’t know if I shoul-”

“Lando for fucks sake if you don’t text him I’ll do it for you! You’ve been out of it for months and this is the first normal conversation we’ve had since! If he really has this much of a hold on you, you should go for it! Or go to therapy whichever one sounds more appealing!” Oscar got up exasperatedly, refilling his and Lando’s glasses.

“Fine!” Lando said, downing the whole glass, “But only if you do it too!”

Oscar blinked, refiling Lando’s glass again, “You want me to tell Carlos I’m in love with him?”

“No! For fucks sake! I mean Logan!” 

Oscar's face turned crimson, and he downed his drink in one,” No.”

“Why not?” Lando asked frustrated, “If it’s such a good idea for me to do it why not you? It’s practically the same thing!”

“Um, actually it is nowhere near the same thing! You’ve known Carlos for a few years sure, but I’ve known Lo for practically my whole life! Plus everyone knows you and Carlos are a thing, he does not think of me that way.”

Lando smirked, “If you don’t text him I’ll do it for you.” Lando said, quoting Oscar back to him.

Oscar glared, “You wouldn’t.”

“Bud, we haven’t known each other that long, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Apparently not getting a boyfriend,” Oscar muttered sipping his drink and spilling it on himself when Lando shoved him.

Lando sighed, “We’re both fucked.”

“Royally.”

They both downed their drinks.

Chapter 2: Photograph

Lando woke up with a mind-numbing headache and an uncomfortable amount of light. He blinked his eyes open, expecting to see the familiar walls of his bedroom, only to realize that he had fallen asleep on his couch instead, the light trickling in through the windows. He groaned, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. He caught sight of the half-empty bottle of vodka, and the concerningly empty bottle of whiskey, a dangerous combination he knew he was feeling now.

 

He looked around, trying to piece together what had happened the night before when he caught sight of a messy handwritten note on the coffee table.

 

Hy mate woke up early and threw up in ur bath called my sis to get m, did my best not to wake you text f he respond - O

 

Lando blinked, memories flooding back into his mind, and suddenly found himself scrambling to find his phone.

 

He noted the lack of replies on his screen, sighing in relief that maybe he hadn’t seen it. He opened his contacts, and sure enough there it was at the top.

 

Carlitos

 

Lando looked at it for a moment before taking a deep breath and clicking on the contact.

 

Lando's eyes widened, and his breath hitched.

 

He wanted to throw his phone. He wanted to cry. He wanted to throw up, and not from the alcohol. The whole thing made him feel suddenly very sober. He glanced down at the phone again, trying to will the words away from existence, but there they sat, permanent and screaming.

 

 

 

I love you.

 

___________________

Oscar groaned, annoyed at being awoken by his ringtone's horrifically loud and insistent buzzing. He felt around blindly in the dark, eventually finding it shoved beneath his pillow. He answered it without looking and regretted it immediately.

 

“OSCAR WHAT THE FUCK DID WE DO!”

 

Oscar recoiled, falling almost completely off his bed in the process, mind spinning, and eyes blurring as they adjusted to the light from his phone screen.“Eh, Lando, what? Why are you yelling? Are you okay?” Oscar rubbed at his face, nausea overcoming him as he sat up.

 

“Am I okay? AM I OKAY? NO, I AM NOT OKAY! YOU MADE ME FUCKING TEXT HIM!”

 

Oscar’s mind was spinning, trying to remember, his brain slowly piecing things together, “Wha? Oh… oh yeah I remember… yeah Carlos I told you to text him, ask him to play golf or something right? What happened?”

 

“Uh, no. That is not what you told me. At least not what you told drunk me! I fucking told him I love him!”

 

Oscar’s eyes widened, “Mate are you serious?”

 

“Of course, I’m fucking serious! Why else would I be calling you at six in the bloody morning?!”

 

Oscar rubbed at his face, “Alright, yeah, okay, okay. Did he say anything? Can you tell if he’s seen it?”

 

“No, he hasn’t but I probably wouldn’t say anything either! God this is fucking awful, he’s never gonna talk to me again.”

 

Oscar sighed, putting Lando on speaker, “Okay, okay, yeah that’s not how we wanted to go about it, but think of it this way at least now it’s out there in…”

 

Lando was silent on the other end, ”Uh, it’s out in what?... Oscar?!”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Dude! Don’t fucking say that! Not when I’m panicking here!” 

 

Oscar stared at the message that appeared at the top of his screen, mind seemingly going blank while also spinning with every possibility.

 

To: Lo :) 

 

I love you.

From: Lo :)

 

call me, please

 

“Oscar.”

 

“Oscar!”

 

“Oscar! What the fuck is going on!”

 

“I…I messaged him.”

 

“What Car- oh. Logan?”

 

Oscar stared at the text, “Yeah…he wants me to call him.”

 

“Well, are you going to?”

 

“I…I don’t know if I ca-”

 

“No! No, you got us into this shit in the first place, so hang up the phone and call him! If it goes well leave me alone so I can cry and get drunk in peace, and if it goes bad my doors open come join me!”

 

“Mate it’s 6 in the mor-”

 

“I don’t give a fuck!”

 

Oscar let out a heavy sigh, years of fear and anxiety trying to escape, “Fine…yeah I’ll call him.”

 

“Great, and you drank all the whiskey so bring some if it goes south.”  With that, Lando hung up, and Oscar was left staring at the text on his screen. 

 

Three words that threatened to ruin his life.

 

He stood and began pacing his room, nervously chewing on his lip as the possibilities flooded through his mind. He left his room, heading to the kitchen and chugging a much-needed bottle of water. As he was making his way back to his room, back to where his phone sat, menacingly., he passed a wall of photographs, one standing out.

“Oscar P1 mate! Congratulations, that was incredible!”

 

The voice echoing in through his headset felt fake. But after a moment of shock, the euphoria washed over him, and he found himself beaming as he got out of the car, pulling the nearest person, probably a mechanic, into a hug, as he laughed like a drug was coursing through his veins. 

Abitebeoul came up to him, patting him on the back and congratulating him like a proud father. “You were fantastic out there, congratulations mate!”

 

“Oh my god I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” Oscar said, panting still from the exhaustion of the race finally catching up with him. Anyone within earshot laughed.

 

“Save it till after the podium, alright!” Abite laughed, “Don’t need you hurling all over Sargeant now do we.”

 

Oscar froze, “Sargeant, you mean-”

 

“Logan got P2,” Abite smiled, “I know he’s another team but you too are friends you’re allowed to be excited.”

 

Suddenly Oscar didn’t need to throw up anymore. The euphoria was back, and coursing through him stronger than ever. They’d shared podiums before, in different arrangements, but this was the first P1 and P2 they’d ever had, he couldn’t wait to see him, to hug him.

 

Soon, the race drew to a close as the final car crossed the finish line, and Oscar made his way to the podium stage. There were lights, bright in his face, cameras flashing from all directions, screaming fans, journalists, and a voice over the loudspeaker. Oscar noticed none of it. 

 

The second he was on the podium his eyes landed on Logan. He was beaming, eyes bright as he waved out to the crowd. Oscar felt his heart soar, and suddenly he didn’t want to hug him, he wanted to kiss him. The thought, as shocking as it seemed at first, settled in his mind as something familiar. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it, not really. But it was the first time he’d allowed himself to acknowledge it. It was the moment he realized what all his other feelings meant. Anytime Logan hugged him, and he felt warmth fill his chest. Or if he settled an arm around Oscar's shoulders, and it felt like they were on fire. Every canceled plan that left Oscar far more disappointed than was reasonable.

 

Logan had been his friend for so long, but Oscar had loved him for longer.

The photograph sat framed on the wall. Their arms were around each other's shoulders, trophies held high in the air as champagne and sweat dripped down their faces. But their eyes weren’t on the screaming crowd of fans, they were on each other, bright smiles masking the way Oscar's eyes tipped down toward his lips.

 

He stared at the photo for a while. Minutes, maybe hours passed, and he finally sighed, eyes falling closed as he took a deep breath. He glanced toward his bedroom door, another long moment passing, and then he went to grab his phone, grinding his teeth together as he pressed the icon and held it up to his ear.

 

The ringing that followed was agonizingly long.

 

There was a click.

 

“Oscar?” worry lacing his voice.

 

God even his voice made him want to curl into a ball and forget the last 24 hours.

 

He sighed again, “yeah?” his voice was barely audible.

 

“Are you drunk?”

 

Oscar blinked, surprised by the question, “Uh, not really, a little hungover but no…”

 

“Are you home?”

 

“Uh, yeah, I-I-”

 

“I’ll be there in 20-” and the line went dead.

 

Oscar stared at his phone, confusion, shock, and terror, spiraling through his mind. Was Logan upset, angry? He has a right to be, Oscar had been his friend for so long and said nothing, he could be angry right?

 

A minute passed, then five, and suddenly he was running to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. He looked kinda like shit. Not the the worst he’s ever looked, but not far off. His lack of sleep was obvious under his eyes, and his hair looked like a bird had tried to make a home in it. He jumped in the shower, taking the fastest one of his life. His hair looked better, but his eyes still looked tired and his breath smelled like stale whiskey. He brushed his teeth, and almost chugged half a bottle of mouthwash. He stepped into his room, pulling on the first pair of clean sweats he could find before registering how much of a disaster his apartment was.

 

He ran around, gathering whatever could be quickly thrown away, which was most of it, and hiding everything else in the closet. He felt like mess, but that doesn’t mean Logan needed to see all of it. He was in the middle of reorganizing the pillows on the couch when he heard a knock on his door. 

 

He froze, shocked, as if a part of him didn’t believe Logan would actually show up. Another knock rang out over the apartment, and Oscar scrambled to the door, realizing he’d left him waiting outside for a while.

 

He stood by the door, trying to prepare himself for every possibility. Maybe Logan thought he was wasted? Or that it was some kind of prank, like a truth or dare situation. His mind settled on Logan being absolutely pissed. Logan had never been an aggressive guy, but he prepared himself for a punch, mental or physical. He took a deep breath, turned the handle, and pulled it open. 

 

Logan was standing there looking at the floor, bouncing on his heels, like he hadn’t expected him to open the door. He glanced up at Oscar, and the first thing he noticed was how tired he looked. Oscar immediately felt guilty. He’d probably sent the message in the middle of the night, and if Logan had woken up and read it, he likely hadn’t slept since.

 

Logan shifted uncomfortably, and Oscar realized he was staring again.

 

“Uh, sorry, sorry, uh, come in,” Oscar stepped aside, “Do you want, um, like water or something, I don’t have a lot-”

 

“Did you mean it?” Logan spun to face him.

 

Oscar blinked, barely registering to close the door behind him before he spoke, “I-What?”

 

“The text Oscar! Did you mean it?” His voice was louder now, and if it weren’t for Oscar’s mind already spinning trying to decipher what that meant, the noise would have made his head pound.

 

He took a moment to read Logan's expression, expecting to be met with anger, frustration, maybe even disgust. But as he watched the way he moved and the way his eyes stared back at him, all he saw was something akin to desperation.

 

Oscar knew he could lie, say it was a game, a joke, a mistake, but there was no point. He wouldn’t be able to keep his feelings quiet forever, not unless they went away (and they’d only gotten stronger as the years passed). So he took a breath, clenched, and relaxed his fists.

 

“Yes.”

 

Logan stared, something in his face changing, “Say it.”

 

“Yes… I love you,” The words left Oscar’s mouth far easier than he thought they would as if he’d been saying them every day of his life.

 

He watched as Logan looked away, shaking his head as if to distract himself, or erase a memory, “I-I swear to god if you’re messing with me-”

 

“I’m not…I promise. Lo, what’s wro-”

 

Then Logan was moving toward him, and Oscar prepared for the worst but was met with everything he’d ever hoped for. Logan's lips pressed against his, desperate, but soft. His hand grabbed the hair at the nape of Oscar's neck as if he would float away if he let go. It wasn’t until Logan pulled away that Oscar realized he hadn’t moved.

 

Logan stuttered, “I’m sorry, I-”

 

Oscar placed his hand under Logan's jaw and pulled him toward himself. He pressed their lips together again, trying to convey just how much he wanted this as well. “Never,” he said, pulling away, “apologize for doing that .”

 

Logan laughed, and it was like Oscar’s hangover evaporated. Oscar kissed him again, quickly, and then again, on his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his ear, his neck.

 

Logan made a sound in the back of his throat, his hand shooting up to rest in Oscar’s hair again, and the mood shifted. 

 

“ Fuck, ” Logan breathed.

 

Oscar passed over the same spot again, sucking and biting the skin between his teeth. Logan’s breath hitched, his hand tightening in Oscar’s hair, other hand moving to grab at Oscar’s hip pulling him closer. Their hips rubbed together, both of them letting out sounds they never wanted anyone else to hear. 

 

Oscar pulled away finally releasing Logan’s neck, “Do you want to?”

 

“Yes.” Logan declared.

 

“My rooms kinda a mes-”

 

“I don’t give a shit, just wanna touch you,” Logan dragged Oscar’s lips back down to his own, pulling Oscar’s whole body and causing them to stumble, thankfully closer to his room. 

 

Oscar gripped Logan’s waist, forcing them backward as their mouths moved together until Logan's back slammed up against the door frame.

 

“Shit, Lo, sorry-”

 

“I’ll deal with the concussion later, but if we don’t do this now I’m not gonna last,” Logan admitted, smiling against Oscar’s lips.

 

Oscar laughed pushing Logan through the door until the back of his knees hit the bed, and Logan fell back against the messy blankets of Oscar’s bed.

 

He stared down at the sight, Logan's lips red, and wet, his hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, laying in a mess of sheets and blankets haphazardly thrown off the floor.

 

“ Fuck, Me neither,” Oscar pulled his shirt over his head, encouraging Logan to do the same, before straddling either side of his legs and pulling him up into a kiss. This time, they let their hands explore. Logan’s movies from Oscars hair down his neck, to his hips, one hand gripping him tight while the other moved lower to the seam of his sweats. He hesitated slightly, before receiving an encouraging groan from Oscar, and he moved his hands past the band and around the warm heat of his cock. 

 

“Fuckin hell” Oscar breathed, breaking the kiss with Logan.

 

“This okay?” He asked.

 

“Christ, yes! Just want you to touch me,” Oscar practically whined.

 

Logan’s brain went fuzzy for a moment but he started to move his hand slowly up and down Oscar’s length, letting his thumb slide over the head of his cock where it was leaking. 

 

Oscar had lost all knowledge of how he’d ended up in this situation, grinding against Logan's hand as he tried not to come after just 5 seconds. The only thing that made him feel better was knowing that Logan wasn’t going to last long either. He could feel his hard cock beneath his hips, and see the wet spot where it was leaking against his pants. He tried to regain some control of himself, letting one of his hands run down Logan's muscled chest and abs, while the other moved to the back of his neck, pulling Logan in to kiss him. It was messier than before, still desperate, but now full of want and lust. He ground his hips down into Logan’s and felt his own cock twitch with the way he groaned into his mouth.

 

Logan’s hand moved faster around his cock, gripping slightly tighter around him. Oscar had to break their kiss to try and catch his breath as he panted against his mouth. He rested their foreheads together, feeling the similar ragged breath of Logan against his neck. 

 

Logan breathed, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

 

And Oscar was gone, moaning against Logan's neck as he came into his hand. He ground down against him one more time, chasing the high as his heartbeat started to slow down, and his mind began to clear from the fog.

 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Logan breathed, Oscar’s face went bright red, still panting against him. 

 

“I’m beautiful? Look at you! It’s like a literal god carved your abs,” Logan laughed, and it was a beautiful sound, so much so it almost made him forget that Logan hadn’t finished yet. He momentarily contemplated how he wanted to do this before an idea found its way to his mind. He got up off Logan’s lap, his hands never leaving Oscar’s hips. When Oscar started to move down to his knees, Logan's eyes widened.

 

“You don’t have to-”

 

“I want to.” Oscar assured, “As long as you’re okay with it?”

 

“Fuck,” Logan groaned, head falling back, before looking back down at Oscar who was now fully kneeling between his knees, “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me. Yes, I am okay with it. As long as you’re sure?”

 

“Never been more sure in my life,” Oscar smiled, and it was way too sweet for what he was about to do. 

 

Oscar reached up, palming the outline of Logan’s cock through his pants.

 

“Fuck,” Logan breathed.

 

“Maybe another time.”

 

Logan looked down at him unimpressed, “Really?”

 

Instead of responding Oscar moved to the waistband of Logan's sweats and boxers, pulling them down together and making Logan lift his hips tp slide them down his legs. Oscar stared at Logan's cock as it sat hard between his legs, mouth-watering slightly at the sight of it.

 

He glanced up at Logan, “I’ve never done this before, so if it’s bad-”

 

“It won't be,” Logan interrupted, “it’s you.”

 

Oscar blushed crimson, and broke eye contact with him, only to be met again, with the sight of his length. Oscar reached his hand up, wrapping it around his base and stroking slowly, gathering precome from his tip and spreading it down the rest of his shaft, the other resting on Logan's knee. Logan moaned, loud and carelessly, hips twitching slightly as he tried to keep from thrusting into Oscar's hand. 

 

Oscar tentatively wet his lips, then leaned forward. He ran his tongue experimentally over the tip and was surprised at Logan's extreme reaction.

 

“Jesus fuck!” he cried, hand moving to gip Oscar’s hair gently.

 

Suddenly feeling a burst of confidence from the encouragement, Oscar wrapped his lips around Logan’s cock, the hand in his hair tightened. Oscar took a second to get used to the feeling before he began to slowly bob his head, leaving his hand to grip the base where he couldn’t reach.

 

Logan's head fell back again in what were probably meant to be words but instead came out as a raspy and guttural moan. 

 

“Not gonna last long,” he managed to get out quickly, and it only spurred Oscar on.

 

He moved back licking the tip again and watching Logan spasm. He ran his tongue along the underside in one long stroke.

 

Oscar could tell Logan was trying to form words but nothing came out. The only warning he got was the hand in his hair tightening and trying to pull Oscar away. Instead, he persisted, wrapping his lips around his cock again just as he came, hips stuttering as he tried to stay still.

 

“You didn’t have to-”

 

Logan was interrupted by Oscar swallowing, he cursed again, gripping Oscar’s arm to pull him up toward him and into a kiss, “You’re fucking amazing. I love you so much.”

 

Oscar beamed, kissing him passionately as he cupped his face to pull him in, “I love you, too.”

 

They kissed lazily, ignoring their disheveled clothing, and the mess covering both of them, until Logan pulled away.

 

“I hate to interrupt this moment, but I have been awake for like 7 hours and I haven’t eaten anything yet,” As if on cue his stomach growled, filling the otherwise silent room.

 

Oscar laughed, “I think I’ve got leftover pasta?”

 

“Perfect,” Logan smiled.

Oscar lay against Logan's chest on his couch, a random show left ignored on the TV as they favored the comforting nature of each other arms. Logan was running a hand gently through Oscar’s hair as they spoke.

 

“By the way,” Logan asked, “Why now?”

 

“‘Why now,’ what?” Oscar asked, playing with the fingers on Logan's other hand.

 

“Why did you randomly decide to send that text?”

 

Oscar froze, “Shit! Lando!”

Chapter 3: Text

Lando’s phone buzzed from its place on his nightstand, he’d been zoned out for several minutes, maybe hours, and the sound made him jump. He glanced down nervously, relieved when he saw Oscar’s name. 

 

“Hey,” he said, picking up.

 

“Hey, sorry about hanging up.”

 

“It’s alright, I get it, things go okay with Logan?”

 

“Yeah,” Lando could sense the smile on the other end of the phone, “Yeah they went okay.”

 

Lando smiled, if a little dejected, “It’s okay if it went well, I’m happy for you guys, really.”

 

“Sorry,” Oscar said quietly on the other line “ Heard anything yet?”

 

Lando glanced down at his phone screen again, “No, nothing.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll say something when he sees it, maybe he’s just sleeping? He’s in Spain right? It’s still early,” Oscar assured him.

 

“Yeah I guess,” Lando sighed.

 

“Do you want me to come over, we could play video games, or get drunk?” he suggested.

 

“Yeah cause that worked out so well the last time.”

 

“Yeah, maybe not that. Really though, I feel bad leaving you alone.”

 

“I live alone Oscar, I’m used to it.”

 

“You know this is different.”

 

Lando sighed, “Yeah. Yeah I know. Really though I’ll be okay. I’m probably just gonna order food and watch a movie, y’know… try to distract myself.”

 

“Yeah, that’ll be good. You can call or text me whenever you know? Say the word and I’m there,” Oscar said earnestly.

 

“I know. Thanks, Oscar. Is Logan there?”

 

“ Uh… yeah, in th either room why?”

 

“Give him the phone.”

 

“Lando I don’t thi-”

 

“Oscar.”

 

“Okay.”

 

There was a rustling on the other line.

 

“Hey Lando how you doing?”

 

“Nah uh, no time for pleasantries, listen, I’ve known Oscar for a lot shorter a time than you have, but if you hurt him I hurt you a hell of a lot worse, got it?”

 

“Uhhh, yup.”

 

“Good, give Oscar back,” rustling again, “See you later, mate.”

 

“later, good luck.”

 

Lando hung up the phone with a heavy sigh, the weight of uncertainty settling in his chest like a leaden anchor. He glanced around his apartment, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort in the face of his turmoil. With a resigned shrug, he pushed himself off the bed and made his way to the living room. The minutes dragged on as he paced back and forth, his thoughts racing in circles, each turn leading him deeper into the maze of his own mind.

 

Eventually, he collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion weighing him down like a suffocating blanket. He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV, the screen coming to life with a burst of sound. His headache had long been forgotten, replaced by the anxiety and panic that seemed to settle over him like a blanket.

 

Just as he was ready to let the mental exhaustion take over, he felt his stomach growl and was suddenly overcome by how hungry he was. He grabbed his phone, trying to ignore the lack of new relevant messages, and ordered the most recent thing in his delivery history. He threw his phone down on the floor beside him, trying to ignore its existence and forget the last few hours. He wanted to go back to last night and stop himself from sending the text, or from allowing himself to drink in the first place. 

 

Still, a part of him knew this was inevitable. The more time that passed, and the more he tried to ignore Carlos, the more his feelings developed, and if he didn’t get rejected soon he was worried they’d pass that point of no return. Carlos was special to him, always had been. He knew they had a connection the minute they met in person. He also instantly knew he was attracted to Carlos. He was famous prior to that obviously, and Lando had always thought he was attractive, but it didn’t compare to how beautiful he looked in person. The interviews could capture the light in his eyes when he laughed, the fond smile that spread across his face when he talked about his family, or how warm and comforting his hugs were.

 

Lando was zoned out entirely on thoughts of Carlos, only breaking his trance when the doorbell rang, indicating his food had been delivered. He got up, with a groan, annoyed at needing to move at all, and seriously considering leaving it out in the hall, but his stomach was willing to fight that battle. He begrudgingly made his way to the door, clicking the lock and swinging it open, only to be met with the face that was forever at the forefront of his mind.

 

Carlos.

 

Lando slammed the door in his face.

 

He backed up against it, trying to will him to leave, to pretend that nothing happened.

 

“I…Lando? Can you let me in? Please?”

 

And crap, his voice, he sounded…annoyed? No that wasn’t right. It was almost…sad.

 

Lando took a deep breath and tried to move, but couldn’t. 

 

“What do you want?”

 

“ Lando,” Carlos said on the other side, “Please, just let me see you.”

 

Now that was weird. The confusion seemed to help break Lando’s fear-locked state, and he turned around stepping away from the door, before opening it ever so slightly.

 

“What are you doing here?” Lando found himself saying, “Thought you were in Madrid.”

 

“I, uh, I was, about three hours ago, and, uh, about four hours ago I saw your text,” Carlos explained.

 

Lando blinked, “What do you mean? You woke up saw my text and got on a plane?” Lando asked, entirely unbelieving.

 

“Um, yes.”

 

Lando stared, “Why?”

 

Now it was Carlos’s turn to look confused, “Why? Why? What do you mean ‘why?’”

 

Lando was getting frustrated now, “Listen, if you just came here to yell at me, or tell me to never talk to you again that was already my plan okay? So I’d appreciate it if you just left me alone.”

 

“Dios,” Carlos breathed, “That’s what you think this is?”

 

“What else am I supposed to think Carlos!” Lando was yelling now, tears filling his eyes.

 

Then Carlos was moving, he took a step closer to the door, pushing it aside and resting his hands on Lando’s chin, he wiped tears away with his thumb and looked straight into his eyes. “¡Dios! ¡Te amo tanto que duele y no puedo creer que pensaras que no podía amarte! Eres lo más grande que me ha pasado, eres mi vida!” Carlos pulled him in and pressed their lips gently together.

 

Lando let himself be pulled, separating only to breathe and ask, “English, please.”

 

Carlos resting his forehead against Landos’s, “I love you.”

 

“I know you said more but-fuck!” Lando let out a sigh so heavy he felt the weight of a bus lift off his shoulders. “Are you sure?”

 

Carlos laughed, “Oh yes, mi vida, I am absolutely sure. I have loved you since the first season we spent together. I was just scared, my love. I am sorry I made you hurt.” he wiped more tears from Lando’s cheek, but it only made Lando cry more. Carlos pulled him into a tight hug, enveloping his whole body, as Lando sobbed into his chest.

 

Carlos moved them slowly out of the way over the door so he could close it and walked Lando to his couch so they could sit down. He pulled Lando into himself burying his face in Lando’s neck.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lando said after a while.

 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Carlos assured, running his hand through Lando’s soft curls.

 

“My stupid drunk text made you get on a plane in the middle of the night just for me to sit here and get your shirt all wet,” Lando said, gesturing to the tear-stained shoulder of Carlos’s T-shirt.

 

Carlos readjusted them, making Lando look at him, “First, the text was not stupid, it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever read, and I spent my entire time getting here hoping that you meant it. Secondly, I would fly across the country a hundred times if it meant getting to see you,” Lando rolled his eyes, not allowing himself to believe the sentiment, “Finally, I have many shirts, I only have one you. I love you, Lando.”

 

Something in Lando clicked, and it seemed like his brain was finally allowing him to believe this as reality. He moved wrapping his legs on either side of Carlos’s hips and pulling him into a deep, passionate, and desperate kiss. Carlos seemed all the willing, letting himself be pulled into Lando’s space, and giving up his own.

 

Lando pulled away for a second, “I love you, too, Carlos.”

 

Carlos beamed, “Podría escucharte decir eso por el resto de mi vida, por favor déjame. Y por favor déjame besarte de nuevo.”

 

Lando laughed, “English please.”

 

Carlos sighed, “Can I kiss you?”

 

“I know there was more but I don’t care, yes! Always. Forever.”

 

Carlos gripped Lando’s face pulling him in again. Their lips moved together, hungry and hot, the emotions in the room changing quickly. Lando moved his hips, grinding down against Carlos, and savoring the sound of him groaning deep within his chest. Carlos gripped Lando’s hips making him whine, a sound he would never admit to making. Carlos’s words had made Lando truly believe him. He was so overwhelmed and desperate to be near him, that there was only one idea his mind supplied.

 

“God, I just want you to fuck me.”

 

Lando felt Carlos stiffen, his hands tightening around Lando’s waist, and for a moment he was worried he pushed too far. But then Carlos was muttering under his breath, and when their eyes met Carlos’s pupils were blown wide.

 

“What?” Lando asked breathlessly.

 

Carlos took a deep breath, and ran his hand through Lando’s soft curls, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

 

Their lips met again, desperate and wet. Lando ground his hips down faster, feeling Carlos growing hard beneath him. Much to Lando’s dismay, Carlos pulled away again, gripping Lando’s hips to still his movements, Lando whined again.

 

“Lando, are you sure?” Carlos asked seriously, Lando tried to move again but Carlos stopped him, “Lando, I’m serious, clear head?”

 

Lando sighed, “Yes, entirely coherent I promise, but seriously I have been trying not to get off thinking about you for months, which means I basically haven’t been getting off, so god please can you just touch me!”

 

“Dios, si,” Carlos kissed Lando again, he let his lips trail down the side of his face and down to his neck, hovering around a spot that triggered Lando into making a particularly loud moan, “Do you have lube?” 

 

“Bedroom,” Lando says, he’s about to get up, but Carlos stops him, grabbing the underside of his thigh and lifting him up off the couch, Lando yelped but let himself be carried into his own bedroom, Carlos set him down on the bed and moved to the side tables, opening the first drawer and finding what he need.

 

“Have you done this before?” Carlos asked.

 

“Not with another person,” Lando admitted.

 

“Okay,” Carlos said, “I go slow, you tell me to stop anytime okay?”

 

Lando nodded.

 

The feeling of Carlos’s fingers inside him was an unfathomable amount better than his own. Lando found himself struggling not to come almost immediately. 

 

“It’s okay Lando, you can let go,” Carlos encouraged him, as he fucked him with his fingers.

 

But Lando shook his head, “No, wanna feel you.”

 

“Only if you’re sure, mi vida. Just a little longer,” Carlos continued to stretch him until Lando became more relaxed, and Carlos was confident he wouldn’t hurt him.

 

“You ready?” 

 

“Yes, please, Carlos, please.”

 

With his assurance, Carlos finally pushed in.

It hurt, but only a little, and Lando found himself entirely overwhelmed and entirely euphoric with the feeling of Carlos inside of him.

 

“So good, mi vida, you’re doing so good, just breathe.”

 

Lando took a deep breath, trying to get used to the feeling, and eventually the sting of pain subsided, and all he was left with was pleasure, he moaned, low in his throat.

 

“Move, please, “ Lando managed.

 

“Okay, but tell me to stop if it hurts,” Carlos told him. He moved slow at first gauging Lando’s reaction to make sure he didn’t hurt him, but then he pushed in further and Lando threw his head back in a loud moan, his hands gripping tight to Carlos’s shoulders, and nails digging into his skin.

 

“Fuck, Carlos! Feel so good,” Lando moaned.

 

“So good for me baby, feel so good, mi amor,” Carlos found a gentle rhythm with the movement of his hips, and as he did so he leaned down to meet Lando’s lips. Lando moved one hand from his shoulder to grip Carlos's thick hair, drawing him closer and locking him into place as he pushed into him.

 

Lando bit down hard on Carlos's bottom lip, and his hips stuttered, causing Lando to moan louder than before. Carlos aimed for the spot again, and again, every time making Lando spasm. Carlos kissed along the edge of Lando’s jaw and thrust again, hitting the same spot a third time. Lando’s breath caught in his throat and he whined as he came over both their stomachs. Carlos wasn’t far behind, thrusting once more and coming deep inside him.

 

They lay there panting, Carlos barely able to keep himself from collapsing on top of him. After a moment, he very slowly pulled out. He took a step, intending to move to Lando’s bathroom to find a towel, but a hand on his wrist caught him. 

 

“Stay here, please,” Lando asked quietly.

 

“I was just going to find a towel, mi vida,” Carlos explained.

 

“Please,” Lando said more insistently.

 

“Okay, okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

They move further up the bed, resting against Lando’s headboard. Carlos was running his hand gently through Lando’s hair, while Land traced the pattern on Carlos’s stomach. To some, it may have been an awkward silence, but Lando’s mind had been so busy and crazed for the last several months, that to finally have a moment where his brain could just shut off, was the greatest comfort of all.

 

Lando sighed, his hand stopping its movement along Carlos’s skin, “I stole your sweatshirt,” he said simply.

 

He watched Carlos's chest move as he laughed, “Yeah I kinda left it in your hotel room on purpose cause I was hoping you would text me. I was a little surprised when you, I just didn’t know this was why.”

 

“Oh god,” Lando groaned, “Please don’t tell me I missed a really obvious sign or something?”

 

“Obvious maybe not, but I, uh, may have lied to you about a couple translations,” Carlos admitted.

 

Lando rolled, looking up at him a bit more, “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, a few months ago you ‘tus ojos son tan hermosos’ meant ‘you have something on your face,’ it, uh, does not,” Carlos smiled shyly.

 

“Wait what does it mean then?” Lando asked, sitting up more at eye level.

 

Carlos’s cheeks flushed slightly, “You have beautiful eyes.”

 

Lando’s face reddened a similar shade, and then he pressed their lips together in a soft and gently kiss, “I love you, I mean it”

 

Carlos smiled, “Te amo, lo digo en serio.”

 

Lando didn’t need that one translated.

 

He fell into Carlos's side in a lazy kiss, reveling in how much more relaxed and free he felt, no longer weighed down by the secret he carried for so long, or the emotions he buried so far he didn’t let himself recognize them.

 

It wasn’t until a warm shower, dinner, and several hours later that Lando’s mind clicked.

 

“Shit, Oscar,” They were laying in Lando’s bed again, both content to head to sleep early, even though it was barely dark at. Lando was plugging in his phone when he saw a message from Oscar.

 

From: Ossssie

 

hope you’re doing okay

let me know if you need anything

 

Lando typed out a quick response, content to stay in his bubble with Carlos for just a bit longer.

 

To: Ossssie

 

doing great

i’ll explain for tomorrow but fyi we can get drunk whenever you’d like

 

“Hey look at me,” Lando said, Carlos head shot up from where it had been buried in Lando’s hair.

 

“Hm, what?”

 

“Smile!” Lando beamed.

 

The photo was slightly blurry, Lando laying with Carlos's arms wrapped around him, bright smile on his while Carlos had half his face in his hair, the other half showing a tired, but content smile on his face.

From: Ossssie

 

Anytime ;)