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“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” The doctor’s voice was jubilant as he handed the squirming newborn to Zak, whose grin stretched from ear to ear.
“Looks like we’ve got another member for the future,” Zak said with a chuckle, his gaze softening as he cradled his son in his arms.
“God, I really hope not,” Tracy murmured, her voice tired but firm. She reached out to stroke the baby’s tiny fingers. “I don’t want our son to grow up in danger.”
Zak chuckled but didn’t reply, his thoughts already elsewhere-on the legacy he would inevitably have to explain one day.
“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” The nurse beamed as she handed the newborn to Nicole, who leaned back against the hospital bed with a tired but radiant smile.
“You were right, Chris. A boy,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
Chris grinned and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “He’ll be just like me, a racer. Maybe an engineer if he's not as lucky.” His eyes lit up with pride and excitement. “What do you think, little man?” he whispered, brushing a finger across the baby’s cheek.
Nicole laughed softly. “Let’s just get him through diapers first.”
“Daddy, what do you do for work?”
The question came out of nowhere, Lando’s small face scrunched up in curiosity as he swung his legs under the dining room table. “The teacher asked today in school, and I didn’t know what to say. Mommy doesn’t work at all.”
Zak froze for half a second before plastering on a wide smile. “Ah, well, just tell them I’m a mechanic, okay?” he said casually, ruffling Lando’s messy hair.
Lando’s eyes widened, sparkling with wonder. “Are you like a superhero? saving people?”
Zak laughed, the sound almost too loud. “Let’s go with that, sure. A superhero.”
“Look at him go!” Chris cheered from the side of the track, his voice booming over the buzz of go-karts.
Nicole stood beside him, arms crossed tightly as she watched her son weave through the other kids on the track. “Are you sure the go-kart isn’t too big for him?” she asked, her worry evident in her furrowed brow.
Chris shook his head, grinning. “Nah, look at him! Breezing through all the others. He’s just like me.” His chest puffed with pride.
Nicole sighed but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her lips as Oscar raced past them, his laughter carried by the wind.
“You’re a WHAT?”
Lando’s voice cracked as he stared at his father in disbelief, his chest heaving with anger and fear. His wide eyes darted between the blood on Zak’s hands and the lifeless figure sprawled on the floor behind him.
“It’s safe, Lando,” Zak said, his voice measured but tired. “Safer than you think.”
Lando’s lip quivered as he pointed to the body. “You just killed somebody! How the hell is that safe?”
“He wasn’t a good guy,” Zak replied calmly, though there was a flicker of something—remorse, maybe—in his eyes. “It’s part of my job.”
“And you want me to what? Follow in your footsteps? Become a murderer?” Lando scoffed, his voice rising with each word.
Zak’s shoulders slumped slightly. “That would be the best, yes. And i'm not a murderer Lando, it's my job.”
Lando let out a bitter laugh, tears stinging his eyes. “Over my dead body. I’m not doing this mafia shit. I’m never killing anyone. Ever.”
Zak nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “It’s your choice, Lando. I’m not forcing you.” He stepped closer, his voice softening. “But I will do everything in my power to protect you.”
“Whatever,” Lando spat, turning on his heel and storming out. His hands were trembling as he shoved open the door.
“I’ll see you after I win this race, yeah?” Chris said with a wide grin, pulling Oscar into a tight hug. “And then I’ll watch you win.”
Oscar smiled, holding onto his father a moment longer than usual. “Yeah. Of course. Love you, Dad. Good luck.”
“Love you too, son.” Chris ruffled Oscar’s hair before climbing into his car, waving as the engine roared to life.
“What’s going on?” Oscar asked, his voice tinged with unease as he stood in the garage. His eyes darted to the screens showing chaos on the track.
“Someone crashed. There’s fire everywhere. Red flag,” one of the crew members said, their voice tight with panic.
Oscar’s stomach churned. “Who?” he whispered, his throat dry.
A familiar voice cut through the noise, trembling. “Osc, it’s dad,” Hattie cried, her face pale as she clung to his arm.
The world seemed to tilt, and Oscar’s breath caught in his chest.
The hospital smelled sterile, the air too heavy to breathe. Oscar sat in the waiting room, his leg bouncing uncontrollably as his mother and sisters clung to one another, their tears endless.
When the doctor walked in, his face said it all. Oscar’s stomach dropped.
“I’m so sorry,” the doctor began, but the words barely registered. His mother’s scream cut through the hallway like a knife, and his sisters broke down into uncontrollable sobs.
Oscar felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. He stumbled back into the cold, plastic chair, his hands gripping the edges until his knuckles turned white. His chest heaved, but no air came. Everything blurred—the voices, the lights, the grief.
And then it all went silent.
“ Welcome, Oscar, ” Zak said, extending a hand with a firm grip.
“Thanks for having me,” Oscar replied, his voice calm as he took a seat across from Zak’s imposing desk.
Zak leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. “So, you’ve gone through all the training. You even worked for another agency?”
“Yep. Alpine,” Oscar confirmed, his tone professional.
“And how much experience do you have?” Zak asked, his sharp eyes studying Oscar closely.
“About three years,” Oscar said confidently.
Zak’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Great. Sign this for me and welcome to McLaren.”
Darkness pressed heavily against Lando’s eyelids as he sat slumped in the corner of the van, the rough burlap sack over his head suffocating and damp with sweat. His hands were bound tightly behind his back, the coarse rope biting into his skin. Every bump on the road jolted his body, but he didn’t dare make a sound. He’d been shoved into the vehicle hours ago—at least, it felt like hours—and his mind raced through the events that led to this moment.
The muffled voices of his captors reached his ears, rough and menacing.
“Got Zak’s treasure,” one of them sneered, his voice low and gravelly. “Now he just has to hand over the codes to the vault. Simple as that.”
“And if he doesn’t?” another voice asked, sharper, with a hint of amusement.
“He will. Zak Brown doesn’t gamble when it comes to his kid.” The first man’s tone turned mocking, dripping with disdain. “The big boss will bend over backwards for his precious Lando.”
Lando swallowed hard, his throat dry. His pulse thudded loudly in his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut beneath the sack. What the hell was going on? He bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the panic from consuming him.
The warehouse was dimly lit, its air thick with the stench of mildew and gunpowder. Lando lay on the cold, dusty floor, the sack now removed from his head. His vision was blurry, his breaths shallow and uneven. He could hear distant shouting and the unmistakable pop of gunfire growing louder with each passing second.
“Get ready,” one of the men hissed, pulling Lando upright by the arm. “Your daddy’s crew is here. Maybe they’ll back off when they see what we’ve got.”
Lando whimpered despite himself, the sound earning a harsh shove from the man holding him. “Shut it, brat,” he growled, pressing a cold blade to Lando’s neck. “You’re just leverage.”
The door burst open with a resounding crash, flooding the room with blinding light. Before Lando could even register what was happening, chaos erupted around him. Gunfire roared, and men shouted in confusion and pain. Lando ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut, his ears ringing.
“Lando!” a familiar voice called out over the chaos.
He blinked rapidly, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Max’s unmistakable silhouette cutting through the smoke. Charles was right behind him, moving with deadly precision as he took down one of the guards with a swift, efficient strike.
“Hold on, we’re coming!” Max shouted, his eyes locking onto Lando.
The man holding Lando cursed, dragging him backward toward the shadows. But before he could make it far, a shot rang out, and the grip on Lando’s arm loosened. The man collapsed in a heap at his feet, blood pooling beneath him.
“Lando, move!” Charles barked, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away from the chaos.
Lando stumbled, his legs shaking as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Max shielded him as they made their way out of the warehouse, the sound of gunfire fading into the background.
Zak’s office was dark, the only light coming from the desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls. He sat in his chair, his elbows resting on the mahogany desk, a phone pressed to his ear. His expression was hard, his jaw clenched tightly.
“I don’t care what it costs,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I need someone who can handle it. Someone who can keep him safe.”
There was a pause as the person on the other end responded, their voice inaudible. Zak’s gaze drifted to the family photo on his desk—Lando, younger and full of laughter, standing between him and Tracy.
“No,” Zak said firmly. “He’s not safe. This can’t happen again.” His grip on the phone tightened. “I need to find someone. The best I've got.”
The sound of footsteps drew his attention. Lando stood in the doorway, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and exhaustion. Zak’s heart clenched.
“Lando,” he began, his voice softening.
“I...” Lando’s voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. He looked down at his feet, his shoulders slumping. “You think I’m weak. That I need protecting.”
Zak stood, walking toward him, but Lando held up a hand. “Don’t. Just... don’t.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Do whatever you have to. I don’t care.”
Zak watched as his son turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. He let out a heavy sigh, his hand running through his hair as he returned to his desk.
“I’m finding someone from the team,” he said into the phone before hanging up.
Zak leaned back in his leather chair, his expression heavier than Oscar had ever seen it. The weight of the conversation ahead pressed down on him, but he steeled himself, folding his hands on the desk.
“Oscar, I need to talk to you about something,” Zak began, his tone uncharacteristically soft.
Oscar, sitting across from him with his usual stoic demeanor, tilted his head slightly, waiting. “What is it?”
Zak exhaled, his fingers drumming lightly against the desk. “You know I have a son.”
Oscar’s brows furrowed faintly. Zak rarely spoke about his personal life, let alone family. “I know you don’t talk about him much.”
Zak nodded, his gaze distant for a moment. “Lando. He’s...your age. And he’s nothing like me, or at least, he doesn’t want to be. He made that very clear.” He smiled faintly, but it was short-lived, his face hardening again.
“A few days ago, Lando was kidnapped,” Zak said abruptly, the words hanging heavily in the air.
Oscar’s neutral expression didn’t shift. “Is he alright?”
“He’s safe now,” Zak said, his tone firm but weary. “But I can’t let it happen again. Lando doesn’t want this life—he doesn’t want anything to do with my work. But that doesn’t mean my enemies will leave him alone. He needs protection.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened slightly. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
Zak leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Oscar’s. “Because you’re the best I’ve got. And because I trust you.”
Oscar’s lips pressed into a thin line. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’m not a babysitter, Zak. You know that.”
Zak sighed, his voice tinged with frustration. “This isn’t babysitting, Oscar. This is life or death. He’s—” Zak hesitated, his voice softening. “He’s my son.”
Oscar’s expression remained cold, his voice sharp. “And this will hold me back from real work. You want me to waste my time following some spoiled kid around when I could be out there doing something that actually matters?”
Zak’s jaw tightened, his frustration now evident. “You think this doesn’t matter? Oscar, I’m asking you because I know you’re the only one who can do this. I trust you enough to put Lando’s life in your hands.”
Oscar’s gaze was steely, his tone devoid of emotion. “Find someone else.” He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.
Zak’s voice hardened. “I’ll raise your pay. Whatever you want. Just name it.”
Oscar’s eyes flickered with something unreadable before they returned to their cold indifference. “No.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the door.
As Oscar pushed the door open, his steps faltered for the briefest moment. Standing just outside was someone Oscar assumed to be Lando, leaning casually against the wall. Or at least, he tried to look casual—his slightly wide eyes betrayed the fact that he’d been listening the whole time.
Lando straightened up, crossing his arms as he looked Oscar up and down. His expression was a mix of curiosity and something bordering on offense. “So, you’re the guy my dad wants to hire to ‘protect’ me?”
Oscar’s cold, detached gaze met Lando’s, his face unreadable. “Apparently.”
“And you said no?” Lando asked, his tone sharp.
Oscar didn’t reply, but his silence spoke volumes. He stepped past Lando without another word, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Lando turned his head, watching him leave, his brows furrowing in frustration. “Jerk,” he muttered under his breath.
He strolled into Zak’s office, plopping himself into the seat Oscar had vacated moments earlier. He leaned back casually, though his restless fingers tapping on the armrest betrayed his curiosity.
“You really need to stop eavesdropping,” Zak mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face, the exhaustion in his voice clear.
Lando shrugged unapologetically. “I need to know who you’re hiring to ‘babysit’ me, as that jerk said.”
Zak sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Oscar isn’t a jerk, Lando. He’s one of the best operatives I’ve ever worked with. Skilled doesn’t even begin to cover it. That man can take down a room full of trained fighters without breaking a sweat.”
Lando raised an eyebrow. “Sounds boring already.”
Zak ignored the quip. “He’s... complicated. Closed off, focused entirely on his work. Doesn’t talk about himself much, and he doesn’t let anyone in. It’s probably why he’s so good at what he does—nothing distracts him.”
“Yeah, definitely sounds like a blast at parties,” Lando muttered, crossing his arms.
Zak hesitated, his expression softening. “His father was a racer. Passed away in a crash when Oscar was still young. It... broke something in him. He left the tracks, got tangled up in some dangerous circles for a while—work that would make what I do look tame.”
Lando’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly masked it with a shrug. “Sounds rough. Still doesn’t mean he won’t be a nightmare to deal with.”
Zak leaned forward, his tone firm. “You might not like him, but he’s your best chance at staying safe. And whether he likes it or not, I trust him with your life.”
The night was unsettlingly quiet as Lando walked through the dimly lit parking garage from his dads work headquarters. His sneakers echoed faintly against the concrete, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching him.
Then, out of nowhere, chaos erupted. A sharp sound rang out—a gunshot. Lando’s heart stuttered as he froze in place, his breath catching in his throat. Shadows shifted, and two figures emerged from the darkness, weapons raised.
Before Lando could react, a third figure moved like lightning, tackling one of the attackers to the ground. A bone-snapping crunch echoed as the man groaned in pain.
“Oscar?” Lando’s voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with disbelief.
Oscar didn’t reply. His movements were precise, cold, and unrelenting as he disarmed the second attacker in a single motion, twisting the weapon away and delivering a swift blow that left the man crumpled on the ground.
When the dust settled, Oscar turned to Lando. His chest rising and falling slowly, like he didn’t just kill two guys, his expression remained emotionless-stone cold. Yet, for the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes as they met Lando’s.
“You okay?” Oscar asked, his voice steady but softer than usual.
Lando nodded slowly, his hands shaking as he clutched his chest. “I... I thought I was going to die.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened, his gaze lingering on Lando for a moment longer before he looked away.
“How did-how did you know I was here?” Lando asked.
“Don’t worry about it.” Oscar replied and drove off.
Oscar pushed open Zak’s office door without knocking. Zak looked up, startled, but didn’t comment as Oscar strode in, his face unreadable. Oscar sat down across from him, leaning back casually in the chair.
“I’ll do it,” he said, his tone clipped and devoid of emotion.
Zak blinked in surprise, sitting up straighter. “You sure?”
Oscar’s gaze was distant, his jaw tight. “It’s your son. I’ll keep him safe.”
Relief washed over Zak, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Thank you, Oscar. It means more than you know.”
Oscar didn’t respond. He stood, his movements slow but deliberate, and turned toward the door. For the briefest second, as his hand hovered over the handle, a memory surfaced—his father’s arms around him, his steady voice offering words of encouragement before his last race.
Oscar swallowed hard and pushed the thought aside. His resolve hardened as he walked out of the office.
Lando stepped into his apartment with heavy steps, his body still buzzing from the adrenaline that had coursed through him less than an hour ago. He pressed his head against the cool wall in the hallway, closing his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing. The image of the two men—guns raised and intent clear—played over and over in his mind.
If Oscar hadn’t been there…
“How did he even know I was there?” Lando muttered to himself, pushing off the wall. “Was he stalking me?” He shook his head. “No way.”
Sliding off his shoes, Lando walked into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck. Something felt… off. His gaze swept across the room, and at first glance, nothing seemed amiss. But a nagging sensation told him otherwise.
His eyes landed on the picture frame hanging on the wall. Crooked. It was never crooked.
His stomach tightened.
He crossed the room in a few quick steps, his breath hitching as he reached for the frame. Behind it was a safe—a secure place for documents and money. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and tilted the frame aside.
The keypad was exposed.
“Shit,” Lando whispered. His fingers trembled as he typed in the code, the soft beeping echoing in the silence. When the safe clicked open, he exhaled shakily. Everything was still there—the money, the documents—but someone had tried to get in.
Closing the safe, he replaced the picture frame carefully, though his hands still trembled. Dread gnawed at him as he padded toward his bedroom.
The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold.
His room was a disaster—drawers yanked open, clothes scattered across the floor, and papers strewn everywhere. His heart pounded as he scanned the chaos, panic bubbling to the surface.
“Shit. Fuck. What the hell?” Lando muttered, running a hand through his curls.
He yanked his phone from his pocket, his fingers fumbling as he scrolled to his dad’s contact.
Zak’s phone rang, interrupting the meeting. He glanced at the screen before answering, a frown forming. “Lando, I’m in the middle of a meeting. What’s going on?”
On the other end, Lando’s voice was low and tense. “Someone was here.”
Zak immediately sat up straighter, alarm flashing across his face. “What do you mean, ‘someone was there’?” His gaze flicked to Oscar, who was seated between Max and Charles.
“I mean someone broke into my apartment, Dad. They tried to get into the safe. My whole room is flipped upside down—it’s a mess.”
Zak’s expression darkened. By now, the entire room had gone silent, Lando’s voice audible to everyone thanks to Zak’s habit of leaving his phone on full volume.
“And, uh…” Lando hesitated. “I don’t know if Oscar told you, but two guys tried to kill me about an hour ago outside the parking lot.”
All eyes turned to Oscar. Max and Charles tensed in their seats, exchanging glances.
Zak’s brow furrowed. “Oscar?”
Oscar gave a slight nod, his tone neutral. “Yeah.”
“Shit,” Zak muttered under his breath.
Oscar leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. “My guess? They were Horner’s men. This is his style—direct, messy, and personal. He’s not trying to kill Lando outright yet. This is about scaring you, making you vulnerable. Breaking into the safe? Ransacking the kid’s room? All theater.”
Zak pinched the bridge of his nose, tension radiating off him.
Max, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly spoke. “Wait—how did you get away from the guys in the parking lot, Lando?”
Lando hesitated. “Uh… Oscar.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. “So you were following him home?”
Oscar’s expression didn’t change. “Kinda have to.”
Charles blinked in surprise. “You agreed to this? Since when does Oscar agree to anything like this?”
Oscar shrugged nonchalantly, reaching for the Red Bull on the table. “Since now.”
Max snorted, shaking his head. “Shit, what happened to you? Oscar agreeing to babysit? Never thought I’d see the day.”
Oscar ignored the jab, his face as blank as ever.
Zak’s voice cut through the murmurs. “Lando, you need to get out of there. We’ll arrange a new apartment immediately, and you’re not staying alone tonight.”
Zak’s eyes darted back to Oscar, who was lounging in his chair, legs stretched out and an air of indifference clinging to him.
“Yes, Zak, I know that look,” Oscar drawled sarcastically, setting the empty Red Bull can on the table. “Yes, I’ll babysit your son for the night. I’ll even make him soup and tuck him into bed. Anything else, or can I go now?”
Max and Charles snickered, but Zak didn’t look amused.
“Jerk,” Lando muttered from the other end of the line, earning a ghost of a smirk from Oscar before the line disconnected.
Lando barely had time to adjust to the unfamiliar apartment before a knock sounded at the door. Dragging himself off the couch, he sighed and trudged to the entrance. He swung the door open, finding Oscar on the other side, looking as unimpressed as ever.
A plain black sports bag was slung over Oscar’s shoulder, his posture loose and relaxed, as if he couldn’t care less about where he was. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even wait for an invitation—just walked past Lando and into the apartment like he owned the place.
Lando blinked, stunned for a moment. “Sure, invite yourself in. Why not?” he muttered under his breath, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.
Oscar, sharp as ever, clearly heard him. He glanced over his shoulder briefly but didn’t bother replying. Instead, he made his way to the spare bedroom, tossing his duffle bag onto the bed.
Leaning against the doorframe, Lando folded his arms and frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied the unflappable Australian. How the hell am I supposed to survive living with this jerk?
His internal grumbling was cut short when Oscar, apparently unconcerned about the concept of privacy, pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the bed. Without shutting the door—or even acknowledging Lando—he began changing right in front of him.
Lando’s breath caught as his eyes involuntarily roamed over Oscar’s physique. Defined abs, taut muscles, and faint scars criss crossed his torso, painting a picture of someone who had seen their fair share of danger. Lando’s throat went dry, and he swallowed hard, realizing too late he was blatantly staring.
Oscar, now wearing a loose pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, reached for a tight white shirt, pulling it over his head. The fabric clung to him like a second skin, accentuating every line of his chest and shoulders. As he turned to grab something else from his bag, he finally caught Lando’s wide-eyed stare.
One eyebrow quirked upward in silent challenge.
Lando flushed, quickly looking away.
Oscar didn’t say a word. Instead, he brushed past Lando without so much as an apology, heading toward the kitchen.
Still trying to recover, Lando trailed after him. He found Oscar rooting through the fridge, eventually emerging with a can of Red Bull in hand.
“So that’s why my fridge is full of Red Bulls,” Lando said, throwing his arms up in mock exasperation.
Oscar shrugged, cracking open the can with one hand. “If I’m going to babysit, I need something to drink,” he replied nonchalantly before taking a long sip and plopping down on the couch like he’d been living there for years.
“Could you not call it babysitting?” Lando snapped, leaning against the counter. “Or do you just love humiliating your boss’s son?”
Oscar didn’t even look up from the TV as he casually responded, “One thing you’ll never see me do is kiss my boss’s son’s ass. You could be royalty, and I wouldn’t care. I’m doing this for Zak and Zak only, so suck it up.”
Lando bristled, his frustration bubbling over. “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking jerk. How does Dad even work with you?”
Oscar’s gaze finally flicked to Lando, his expression calm and indifferent. “And you’re a spoiled brat. Guess none of us are perfect.” His tone was so neutral it almost sounded like he was commenting on the weather.
“Fuck you,” Lando muttered under his breath, his face hot with irritation.
Oscar smirked faintly, leaning back on the couch and taking another long sip of his drink. “Not a chance.”
Grinding his teeth, Lando turned and stormed off toward the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him, letting the sound echo through the apartment.
Oscar remained on the couch, utterly unbothered, flipping through TV channels like nothing had happened.
Lando let the boiling hot water cascade over his skin, trying to scrub away the day—not just the sweat and grime but the stress and lingering adrenaline that had seeped into his very bones. He ran his hands over his face and hair, his fingers shaking slightly as he replayed the events in his head.
The attack.
The safe.
Oscar, with that ever-present, emotionless mask, stepping in and saving his life like it was nothing.
The water didn’t seem hot enough to burn the memories away.
When he finally stepped out of the shower, the steam in the bathroom was so thick he could barely see his reflection. He grabbed a towel, drying himself off with brisk, frustrated movements before wrapping it around his waist. His reflection stared back at him as he worked his curls with a leave-in conditioner, raking his fingers through the damp strands with a practiced ease.
Half an hour later, freshly cleaned and dressed, he cracked the bathroom door open. That’s when the smell hit him—savory and rich, curling through the apartment like a warm invitation.
Lando paused mid-step, his brows furrowing. Was that... food?
The scent grew stronger as he made his way toward the kitchen. His irritation returned full force when he spotted Oscar standing at the stove, cool and composed as always.
Oscar was scooping pasta onto a plate, his back to Lando, though it was obvious he’d already sensed him. Without turning around, Oscar reached into a cabinet, grabbed another plate, and wordlessly dished up a second serving.
“Fuck no,” Lando spat, crossing his arms defensively. “It probably tastes like shit. Or worse—you poisoned it.”
Oscar turned his head slightly, finally raising an amused eyebrow. It was subtle, but on him, it might as well have been a full-blown grin. Without saying a word, he took a bite of the pasta on his own plate.
Lando, despite himself, couldn’t help but stare. His eyes tracked the way Oscar’s jaw moved, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. It didn’t help that the pasta actually looked delicious, creamy and perfectly cooked.
“Suit yourself,” Oscar said with a shrug, already moving past him toward the couch. “Just don’t go crying to your daddy that I’m starving you.”
Lando clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as Oscar brushed past him. He refused to look back, standing rigidly in the kitchen as the sound of the TV filled the silence.
The plate of pasta sat there, steaming and undeniably tempting.
Don’t give in, Lando told himself, but his stomach growled in betrayal. His resolve crumbled, and with a frustrated groan, he grabbed the plate and a fork.
Now came the next dilemma. Eat in his room and avoid Oscar entirely? Or...
Lando lingered awkwardly in the kitchen, weighing his options. He glanced toward the couch. Oscar, sitting there with his legs spread and his plate balanced on one hand, didn’t so much as glance his way. His focus was entirely on the TV, his expression unreadable.
Asshole.
With a defeated sigh, Lando shuffled over and dropped onto the opposite end of the couch. He stabbed his fork into the pasta and took a reluctant bite.
His eyes widened almost instantly.
It was... good. Like, annoyingly good. The sauce was creamy but not overwhelming, the pasta cooked to perfection. He hated that Oscar was actually competent at cooking.
Oscar, still staring at the screen, didn’t acknowledge Lando’s reaction. They ate in silence, the tension between them heavy but oddly not suffocating.
When Lando finally finished his plate, he leaned back against the couch cushions, letting out a contented sigh.
“The rat poison should kick in about five minutes from now,” Oscar said suddenly, his voice calm as ever.
Lando shot him an annoyed glare. “Dickhead,” he muttered under his breath.
Oscar’s lips twitched ever so slightly, the barest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicked toward Lando briefly before returning to the TV.
Lando groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. “I’m starting to think you agreed to this whole thing just to get under my skin.”
Oscar finally looked at him, one eyebrow raised again. “You think I need to agree to babysitting you to do that?”
Lando glared at him, but before he could respond, Oscar shrugged one shoulder, turning his attention back to the screen. “Getting under your skin is just a bonus.”
“You’re insufferable,” Lando muttered, shoving his empty plate onto the coffee table.
Oscar’s smirk grew just a little wider. “And you’re predictable. Guess we’ll just have to live with it.”
Lando scowled but couldn’t bring himself to argue.
The movie played on the TV, the faint hum of the dishwasher filling the gaps in sound. Lando sat on one side of the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest, while Oscar lounged on the other side, his posture relaxed, his gaze half-focused on the screen.
It was almost... normal.
Until it wasn’t.
A faint metallic click echoed from the door, like keys fumbling in the lock—or something more deliberate. Both of them froze.
Lando’s blood turned ice-cold, his grip on the pillow tightening as his heart pounded in his chest.
Oscar, by contrast, didn’t freeze entirely. He tensed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he tilted his head slightly toward the door. With one smooth movement, he reached next to him on the couch and picked up a pistol Lando hadn’t even realized he had.
“You—” Lando started to whisper, but Oscar shot him a quick look.
“Stay here.”
His voice was low, firm, and left no room for argument.
Lando barely managed a nod, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. He watched as Oscar quietly stood, his movements deliberate, almost predatory. The gun glinted faintly in the light as he reloaded it in one practiced motion.
Oscar tiptoed to the door, his footsteps eerily silent against the floor. He pressed his eye to the peephole.
What he saw made him straighten, his expression hardening into something cold and terrifying.
Without hesitation, he unlocked the door, his hand moving faster than Lando thought was humanly possible. The door flung open, and before Lando could even process what was happening, Oscar yanked a crouched figure into the apartment with startling force.
The man—masked and struggling—let out a muffled grunt as Oscar slammed him against the wall.
In one fluid motion, Oscar ripped the mask off, revealing a man in his late thirties, his face pale and sweating.
“Who sent you?” Oscar growled, his voice low and sharp as a knife.
The muzzle of the gun pressed firmly under the man’s chin.
The intruder’s eyes darted around, wild with panic. “I-I don’t know what you’re—”
Oscar didn’t even blink. “Wrong answer.” He pressed the gun harder, the click of the safety disengaging sending a chill through the room.
Lando wasn’t looking at the man. He couldn’t. His wide, stunned eyes were locked entirely on Oscar.
Oscar looked terrifying like this—eyes sharp and unyielding, his expression stone-cold, his jaw tight with focus. His lean body, now so close to the man, seemed to radiate a controlled, deadly energy.
And yet... damn.
Lando swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as his eyes traced over the sharp angles of Oscar’s face, the tension in his arms as he held the gun, the faint scars visible just above the collar of his shirt.
It was horrifying.
It was also, unfortunately, very fucking hot.
“Last chance,” Oscar said, his tone so calm it was chilling. “Who sent you?”
“Please!” the man whimpered, his words rushing out now. “Horner! It was Horner! He—he just told me to break in and scare the kid! That’s all, I swear! I wasn’t supposed to—”
Oscar cut him off, leaning in closer. “And what were you supposed to look for?”
“I—I don’t know!”
Oscar’s head tilted slightly, a cold smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think you do.”
The man started sobbing, blubbering something incoherent.
Oscar pulled back just slightly, his grip on the man loosening. “You’re going to leave. You’re going to tell Horner that I’m here, and if he tries anything again, it’ll be his throat under this gun next time.”
The man nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face.
Oscar took a step back, releasing the man with a shove toward the open door. The intruder stumbled but didn’t dare look back as he bolted into the hallway.
Oscar shut the door calmly, locking it before turning back to the room.
Lando was still sitting on the couch, his chest rising and falling as he stared at Oscar like he’d never seen him before.
Oscar’s gaze flicked to Lando, his brow raising slightly. “You okay?” he asked, his voice neutral, as if he hadn’t just terrified a man into submission.
Lando blinked, his face flushing. “I—uh...” He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the lingering image of Oscar in full protector mode. “I’m fine.”
Oscar nodded, placing the gun next to him on the couch like it was nothing.
Lando swallowed again, his mind still reeling. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned back into the couch, gripping the pillow in his lap like a lifeline.
Oscar, unbothered, picked up the remote and turned the movie back on, the volume low. “If you’re going to stare all night, at least grab a snack or something.”
Lando’s mouth opened in indignation. “I wasn’t staring!”
Oscar’s lips twitched—another one of his rare, infuriating smirks. “Sure you weren’t.”
Lando groaned, flopping back into the couch cushions. How the hell am I going to survive living with this guy?
After another 10 minutes of silence Oscar disappeared into the bathroom with a towel slung over his shoulder, leaving Lando alone on the couch.
For the first time all day, the apartment was completely silent, save for the faint hum of the TV.
Lando leaned back into the cushions, running a hand through his damp curls. His thoughts spiraled, replaying everything that had happened.
The two men. The fear. The cold press of death hovering too close for comfort.
And then there was Oscar.
Oscar, who walked into his life like he owned it.
Oscar, who made pasta like he belonged in the kitchen.
Oscar, who teased him relentlessly, always one step ahead, unbothered and smug.
Oscar, who had saved his life and looked ridiculously hot doing it.
Lando groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Get a grip,” he muttered to himself.
But he couldn’t shake the image—the way Oscar had pressed the intruder against the wall, the gun steady in his hand, his voice cold and commanding. It wasn’t just scary; it was... well.
Lando shook his head furiously, trying to banish the thought. Focus on literally anything else.
He sat there for a while, staring at the muted TV. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to shut off.
Eventually, he decided he’d had enough. “I need sleep,” he said aloud, his voice echoing in the empty living room.
Standing up, he grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. The apartment fell into darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of the city lights outside.
He stretched, heading toward his bedroom, but as he passed the hallway, the bathroom door opened.
Lando stopped in his tracks.
Oscar stepped out, steam billowing behind him, a towel wrapped low around his hips. His skin was still damp, beads of water rolling down his chest and disappearing into the white fabric. His dark hair clung to his forehead, water dripping onto his shoulders as he casually rubbed the back of his neck.
“Jesus Christ,” Lando blurted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Oscar looked up, raising a brow. “Something wrong?”
Lando swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Ever heard of clothes?” he managed to squeak.
Oscar shrugged, completely unfazed. “Thought I heard something.”
His voice was calm, neutral, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. He started walking toward his bedroom, water droplets trailing faintly behind him on the floor.
“Night, princess,” he tossed over his shoulder, disappearing into his room.
Lando stood frozen in the hallway, his heart racing. He blinked once, twice, and then let out a shaky breath.
“What the fuck,” he whispered, dragging a hand through his curls again.
Eventually, he forced his legs to move, retreating into his own room. He closed the door behind him, leaned back against it, and stared up at the ceiling.
“This is fine,” he muttered, his voice a little too loud in the quiet. “Totally fine.”
Climbing into bed, Lando wrapped himself in the blankets, trying desperately to calm his mind. But no matter how many times he shifted, adjusted his pillow, or closed his eyes, sleep refused to come.
The shuffling sounds coming from Oscar’s room should have been annoying, but instead, they were... oddly comforting. The quiet rustle of movement grounded him in the otherwise tense silence of the night.
When the sounds finally stopped, Lando should have been able to sleep. But instead, his mind raced, replaying every moment of the day—the fear, the adrenaline, the frustration, the... attraction.
He groaned, flipping onto his stomach and burying his face in the pillow.
“Stupid fucking bodyguard,” he mumbled into the fabric, his voice muffled.
The city lights outside flickered faintly as Lando lay there, staring into the dark, wide awake.
Lando shuffled out of his room, rubbing at his eyes as a massive yawn overtook him. His body ached with exhaustion, his brain foggy from barely three hours of sleep. He padded down the hallway, the quiet of the early morning settling over the apartment.
It wasn’t until he entered the living room that he remembered he wasn’t alone.
Right in the middle of the room, Oscar was working out, his body moving effortlessly through a set of one-handed push-ups.
Lando stopped dead in his tracks, blinking a few times like maybe he was still dreaming.
Oscar barely seemed to notice him, his movements steady and fluid, sweat glistening on his skin. His shirt clung to him in places, outlining every defined muscle, and his abs flexed as he lowered himself and pushed back up, over and over.
Lando swallowed hard, his eyes trailing down to Oscar’s arm—just one arm, for fuck’s sake—pressing into the floor like it was nothing.
He wondered, briefly, if Oscar could pick him up with one hand.
Then, as soon as the thought entered his mind, Lando yelped.
Oscar paused mid-push-up, turning his head to glance at him. “Morning, princess,” he mumbled, his voice calm, a little amused.
Jesus Christ.
Could he stop calling him that before Lando’s knees gave out?
Lando froze, trying to form a coherent sentence, but all he could do was stare. His eyes darted to the way Oscar’s shirt clung to his back, then back to his arms as he resumed his push-ups, his muscles shifting with every movement.
Oscar smirked, still focused on the floor. “Cat got your tongue?”
Lando’s mouth opened, then closed. No words came out. He probably looked like a fish out of water.
Oscar glanced up again, his gaze flicking over Lando’s disheveled appearance. “You look like shit,” deadpanned casually, like they were old friends instead of… whatever this was.
Lando scowled. “Feel like it too,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
Oscar finished his push-ups with an infuriating amount of ease, switching to sit-ups without so much as a break. “Made sandwiches,” he said, not even looking at Lando. “They’re in the kitchen if you want one.”
Lando blinked at him. “You… made sandwiches?”
“Don’t look so shocked.” Oscar didn’t miss a beat, his abs contracting with every upward movement. “I figured you might starve otherwise.”
Lando’s jaw worked soundlessly, his mouth opening and closing again. He felt heat rising in his cheeks, his thoughts running in circles as he tried—and failed—not to notice the way Oscar’s body moved.
Oscar finally stopped, sitting up and looking over at him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You good?”
Lando blinked again, his brain catching up too late to form any kind of clever response. Instead, he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and turned on his heel, heading for the kitchen.
As he left, Oscar’s smirk widened.
Lando sat at the kitchen counter, devouring the sandwiches Oscar had apparently thrown together earlier. He didn’t want to admit how good they were, but the evidence was clear as he practically inhaled the second one.
From the living room, Oscar’s phone started ringing. Lando could hear the faint buzz before Oscar answered it with a flat, “Yeah?”
He strolled into the kitchen mid-conversation, pulling open the fridge and grabbing another Red Bull.
“Yeah, okay.” His tone was indifferent. “No, Zak, I’m not. No, I haven’t killed him.”
Lando raised an eyebrow at that, slowing his chewing slightly.
Oscar leaned against the counter, cracking open the can. “Yeah, we’re fine. He’s eating now, seems fine.” He glanced at Lando briefly, smirking faintly. “Could be better, though.”
Lando rolled his eyes, shoving the last bite of sandwich into his mouth.
“No, I’m not annoying him—he’s annoying me,” Oscar added casually, his voice still neutral.
Lando mock-gagged, wiping his hands on a napkin.
Oscar continued listening to Zak on the other end, his expression unchanging, until something Zak said made his posture straighten. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go check it out,” Oscar replied, then arched a brow as his gaze flicked back to Lando. “Am I meant to leave him alone?”
The words sent a small chill down Lando’s spine, though he pretended not to notice, shuffling his plate toward the sink.
“Yeah, sure. Fine,” Oscar finally said, and with that, he hung up, slipping his phone into his pocket.
“What’s up?” Lando asked, trying to sound casual.
Oscar looked him over, debating how much to say. “One of Horner’s warehouses. Something’s off. Zak wants me to check it out.”
Lando frowned, his pulse quickening slightly. “I’m coming with you.”
Oscar froze mid-sip of his Red Bull, then let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Hell no. The fuck you’re not.”
“I’m serious,” Lando insisted, stepping closer.
Oscar shook his head, setting the can on the counter. “Mate, Zak told me you wanted nothing to do with this job. Wanted me to keep my distance, not even tell you about this stuff. And now, all of a sudden, you wanna tag along?”
“Yeah, well,” Lando huffed, crossing his arms, “things change.”
“Not this.”
“Look, I don’t want to sit here all day while you’re out there checking shady warehouses!”
Oscar gave him an unimpressed stare, his arms folding across his chest. “What, you think you’re gonna help? What are you gonna do, Lando? Throw a shoe at someone?”
“I’m not useless,” Lando snapped, his cheeks flushing.
Oscar sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “This isn’t a debate. You’re staying here.”
Lando glared at him, his jaw set.
Cut to twenty minutes later, and Lando was sitting in the passenger seat of Oscar’s car, grinning to himself as they drove through the city.
Oscar’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched, his expression dark. “You’re slowing me down,” he muttered, the irritation dripping from his tone.
Lando tilted his head innocently. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so insistent on me staying behind, we could’ve left earlier.”
Oscar shot him a sidelong glare, but he said nothing, opting instead to crank the volume on the radio.
“Admit it,” Lando teased, unable to help himself. “You’d miss me if I stayed behind.”
Oscar let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Mate, the only thing I’d miss is the peace and quiet.”
Lando rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat as they turned toward the outskirts of the city.
The drive out of the city was quiet, aside from the occasional low hum of the radio and the rhythmic sound of tires against asphalt. Oscar’s irritation was palpable, his sharp gaze fixed on the road ahead while Lando fidgeted in his seat. The tension between them hung heavy in the air, neither willing to break the silence.
As they neared the warehouse—a large, decrepit structure surrounded by overgrown grass and rusted fencing—Oscar pulled the car to a stop a few meters away, cutting the engine.
He leaned back, stretching briefly before turning to Lando with a dead-serious expression. “You’re staying in the car.”
“What?” Lando’s voice pitched slightly higher. “No way. I didn’t come all this way to sit here like a—”
“You are staying in the car,” Oscar repeated, his tone firmer this time. “If someone’s in there, not only will I have to save my own ass, but yours too. I don’t have time to babysit you and deal with whatever this is.”
Lando’s jaw dropped, and he stared at Oscar like he’d just insulted his entire existence. “I don’t need babysitting!”
Oscar raised an unimpressed eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “You almost got killed in a parking lot two days ago.”
“I’m not saying I’ll go inside,” Lando shot back, folding his arms defensively. “I can stay outside and keep a lookout! If someone comes, I’ll warn you!”
Oscar sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And what are you going to do if someone does come? Wave at them and hope they leave?”
Lando rolled his eyes. “I’m not useless, Oscar! I’m serious—I’ll stay out here. You can trust me.”
Oscar stared at him for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re staying in the car. That’s final.”
Lando groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the seat. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re insufferable,” Oscar shot back as he opened his door and stepped out.
Lando watched as Oscar moved around to the back of the car, opening the trunk to retrieve a flashlight and, to Lando’s surprise, another gun. He couldn’t help but gape slightly as Oscar checked the weapon, his movements quick and efficient.
Oscar leaned down to the window. “I mean it, Lando. Stay. In. The. Car.”
Lando huffed but didn’t respond, glaring at the dashboard as Oscar turned and started walking toward the warehouse.
Lando sat in silence for all of thirty seconds before he unbuckled his seatbelt and slipped out of the car. “Staying in the car, my ass,” he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the warehouse where Oscar was already approaching the entrance, flashlight beam cutting through the dim light.
He crept toward the edge of the lot, keeping to the shadows. From his vantage point near an old, abandoned crate, he could see both the warehouse and the surrounding area. “See? I’m totally helping,” he whispered to himself with a smug grin. He could hear Oscar’s voice in his mind, telling him to stay put, but the thrill of being part of the action made his heart race.
Inside the warehouse, Oscar paused near the door, his flashlight illuminating stacks of crates and rusted machinery. He moved with precision, his gun held low but ready. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the dim interior, alert to any potential threats. The place smelled of decay, and everything was coated in a thick layer of dust.
Oscar moved forward, his eyes flicking over the cluttered shelves and boxes, looking for anything that might stand out. He needed to find something useful—something that could help the team. He approached a set of shelves in the back corner, peering between crates and boxes. That’s when his flashlight caught something. A small, black case—out of place amongst the dusty equipment. His fingers itched as he approached.
He crouched down and picked it up, eyes narrowing. The case was slightly heavier than it looked, and there was a small, subtle engraving on the front. He snapped it open with a quick motion.
Inside, nestled against a piece of foam padding, was a USB drive. Oscar's heartbeat quickened as he studied the object, recognizing it immediately. This was what the mission was about—a crucial piece of intel. It had to be. He pocketed the USB drive without hesitation, knowing the rest of the team would need it.
As he stood up, a faint noise from the back of the warehouse caught his attention. Oscar’s hand instinctively moved to his gun. He slowly made his way toward the sound, his eyes scanning every shadow. His senses were sharp, the tension thickening in the air. Whoever was here, they were close.
Minutes passed, but nothing happened. Oscar glanced back toward the door, thinking about Lando. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not with everything on the line. He continued to move through the warehouse, eyes scanning for movement.
Outside, Lando scanned the area nervously. Every rustle of the wind through the grass made his heart jump, and he found himself wishing he’d stayed in the car—though he’d never admit it.
Suddenly, a shadow shifted near the far end of the lot. Lando’s heart twisted. “Shit,” he whispered, fumbling for his phone. Before he could decide whether to text or call, Oscar appeared at the warehouse entrance, his expression sharp and questioning. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
Lando jogged over, pointing toward the far lot. “I saw someone—over there. Just now.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the direction Lando indicated. “Get back to the car. Now.”
“No way!” Lando argued, his voice rising. “What if they’re trying to get inside? I should—”
“Lando,” Oscar cut him off, his tone cold and final. “Get back in the car. Or I’m dragging you there myself.”
Lando opened his mouth to argue, but the look in Oscar’s eyes was enough to make him hesitate. He nodded reluctantly, retreating toward the car, his heart hammering in his chest.
Oscar turned back toward the shadows, his gaze never leaving the direction Lando had pointed to. His hand tightened on the gun, but he moved with caution, eyes scanning every corner and crack in the warehouse’s exterior.
The seconds dragged on, and Oscar’s mind was calculating every possible outcome. There were too many unknowns—he needed to be ready for anything.
When Oscar rounded the corner, his stomach dropped.
One of the enemy’s men had Lando pressed against his chest, a glinting knife held tightly under his throat. Lando was visibly trembling, his wide, panicked eyes locked on Oscar. Sweat dripped down his temple, and his lips moved soundlessly, repeating the same words over and over. “m’sorry m’srorry m’sorry…”
“Well, well,” the man taunted, his grin wicked. “Oscar Piastri, didn’t know you did these things after…you know,” He pressed the knife closer to Lando’s skin, drawing a small bead of blood. Lando whimpered, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Oscar’s expression remained unreadable, his gun steady in his grip. The man was clearly desperate—he had Lando, but the real prize was likely something else. Oscar’s mind raced.
“Here’s the deal,” the man continued, his voice dripping with malice. “You hand over the USB drive, and I let your little boyfriend here go. You refuse, and I slit his throat. Fast and simple.”
Lando’s eyes widened in terror, his lips quivering.
Oscar’s gaze flickered briefly to Lando’s. But his voice remained calm, even cold. “Boyfriend?” Oscar’s voice was almost bored, as if he had already written the situation off. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”
The man laughed darkly. “You sure about that? He looks at you like you’re his whole world.”
Oscar didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the threat in front of him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the USB drive, holding it up between two fingers. “Here it is,” he said evenly, his gaze flicking behind the man briefly, distraction.
“Good,” the man sneered, looking away for a second. “Now, toss it here—”
It happened in the blink of an eye.
Oscar’s free hand darted to his belt, where he’d stashed a tactical knife. With precision honed from years of training, he threw it. The blade sang through the air and buried itself into the man’s throat.
Lando squeezed his eyes shut at the sickening sound of the blade’s impact, followed by the gurgling breath of the man as he crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled beneath him, and Lando stumbled backward, choking on the bile rising in his throat. His entire body trembled as he fought to hold himself together.
Oscar approached the man’s crumpled body, his expression unchanged. He crouched briefly, retrieving the knife and wiping it clean on the man’s shirt before slipping it back into his belt. Without a word, he pulled the USB drive from his pocket and slid it into his jacket. His eyes flicked to Lando, who was still frozen in shock.
Without waiting for a response, Oscar grabbed Lando’s wrist in a vice-like grip and started pulling him toward the warehouse exit. Lando stumbled after him, his breaths shallow and erratic.
“I’m so sorry,” Lando babbled, his voice trembling. “Oh god, Oscar, I swear I stayed still like you told me, but then I heard this creak and I panicked—I just wanted to warn you, and the next thing I knew—”
“Shut up,” Oscar snapped, his voice low and icy.
Lando’s mouth snapped shut, the words dying on his lips. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously toward Oscar. The tension between them was suffocating, and every step seemed to take them further into a storm of unspoken words.
The ride back to the city was agonizingly quiet. Lando sat with his hands clenched in his lap, fingers twisting nervously as he stole occasional glances at Oscar. The other man’s jaw was tight, his grip on the steering wheel almost painfully tense.
“I’m sorry,” Lando whispered again, almost inaudibly, his voice small and vulnerable.
Oscar didn’t respond.
Lando wanted to speak, to explain himself further, but he knew better. Oscar’s silence was far worse than any words could be. He wasn’t angry—he was just... disappointed. And that hurt more than Lando could bear. He sat back against the seat, fighting the tears threatening to spill. They had the drive, and the mission was a success, but somehow, it felt like they’d both lost something in the process.
And as they drove through the darkened streets, Lando couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed between them—whether for better or worse, he didn’t know. But he’d find out soon enough.
The apartment was quiet when Oscar returned, the weight of the mission still lingering in the air. The soft hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of the building were the only sounds as he walked through the front door. Lando was already seated on the couch, staring at the floor with his hands clenched tightly in his lap, a look of deep conflict etched across his face.
Oscar didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through messages before dialing Zak’s number. The line clicked as it connected, and Oscar leaned back against the wall, his tone calm when Zak answered.
“Zak,” Oscar began, his voice even, “I found the USB drive. It was in a warehouse. No problems, but the situation was… complicated. I handed it to Max already.”
There was a pause, Zak’s voice coming through the speaker. “What happened? Are you good?”
Oscar hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Lando, whose face had gone pale. The memory of the man’s knife pressed against Lando’s throat still lingered, but he kept that part of the story to himself. There was no need to add more weight to the already heavy air between them.
“I’m fine,” Oscar replied smoothly, keeping his voice neutral. “Everything went according to plan. I’ll be in touch with the details tomorrow.”
Zak must’ve sensed something, but he didn’t push it. “Good. Let me know when you’re back. And take care of yourself.”
Oscar ended the call with a quiet click, sliding the phone into his pocket. He stood still for a moment, eyes on Lando, whose gaze remained firmly fixed on the floor.
The silence was thick, suffocating. Finally, Oscar broke it, his voice firm but not unkind. “Come with me,” he said, motioning toward the bathroom. “We need to clean your neck.”
Lando froze, his body tensing as if expecting to be scolded. He hesitated for a moment before slowly standing up, his steps hesitant as he followed Oscar into the bathroom. His throat still burned where the blade had grazed, and the guilt gnawed at him with each passing second.
Oscar turned on the water in the sink and grabbed a clean washcloth, dipping it into the cool water. He motioned for Lando to sit on the edge of the bathtub, his expression unreadable as he gently lifted Lando’s chin to examine the small cut where the knife had pressed against his skin.
Lando didn’t dare to look him in the eye, feeling small and utterly exposed. His throat felt tight, both from the physical wound and the guilt choking him from the inside. The air was thick with unspoken words, and he couldn’t help but feel like he had let Oscar down.
Oscar’s touch was surprisingly gentle as he dabbed at the wound, cleaning away the remnants of blood. His gaze was focused, the steady rhythm of his actions betraying the calmness he wore so well on the surface.
After a few moments of silence, Oscar’s voice broke through the tension, low and serious. “Zak would kill me if anything happened to you, Lando. You understand that, right?”
Lando swallowed hard, the weight of Oscar’s words settling heavily in his chest. He nodded, though his voice remained small when he spoke. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I… I just wanted to help. I wanted to give something back.”
Oscar’s movements faltered for the briefest of moments, and when he spoke again, his tone softened slightly, though still firm. “What you did today was stupid, Lando. You should’ve just stayed in the car like I told you. You don’t need to be out here trying to prove something.”
Lando’s chest ached at the sharpness in Oscar’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m just so tired of feeling weak, of needing to be protected all the time. You’ve saved my life multiple times now, and I just… I wanted to do something. I wanted to be… useful.”
Oscar’s gaze softened, his hands stilling for a moment. There was a pause, a quiet beat where the tension seemed to dissipate, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Oscar smiled. It was small, fleeting, but it was there—genuine and soft.
“I don’t need to be protected, Lando,” he said, his voice almost teasing now, a hint of warmth seeping through. “Clearly, you’re the princess here, not me.”
Lando huffed, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a half-smile. He didn’t say anything, but the weight on his chest seemed to ease a little. Oscar’s words, though lighthearted, felt like a lifeline.
Oscar finished cleaning the wound and stood up, his expression serious again, but there was a subtle softness to it now. “Don’t tell Zak about this. It’s your fault, and I don’t want you in any more trouble than you already are. Understood?”
Lando nodded quickly, his guilt still weighing on him. “Yeah. I won’t. I just… I don’t want you to get into trouble, either. I’ll take the blame.”
Oscar gave him a brief, sharp nod, his eyes darkening just a little with the weight of his words. “Good.”
He stepped back, walking toward the door. “Goodnight, princess,” he said with a small smirk, as if nothing had happened, as if the air wasn’t still heavy with the aftermath of the night.
Lando stayed frozen in place for a moment, the words echoing in his mind . He let out a shaky breath and stood up slowly, the coolness of the bathroom air wrapping around him as he made his way to his bedroom.
He didn’t lie down immediately. Instead, he stood by the window, looking out at the city lights below, trying to push the guilt away. The conversation had lightened the mood somewhat, but there was still a deep knot in his stomach. Eventually, he climbed into bed, pulling the covers tight around himself, his mind racing with everything that had happened.
He fell asleep in the dark, his thoughts still swirling, but for the first time that night, he felt a small sense of relief. Tomorrow was another day, and maybe, just maybe, things between him and Oscar would be a little less tense.
The phone rang just as Lando settled onto the couch, he has basically been laying in bed since morning, overthinking everything and nothing at the same time, Oscar was running errands too so Lando had nothing better to do for the first half of the day. The quiet of the apartment settling around him like a weight. He glanced at the screen, seeing his dad's name flash up. He sighed before answering.
“Dad,” Lando greeted, forcing a nonchalant tone into his voice, even though the unease from earlier hadn’t quite worn off.
“Lando,” his dad’s voice came through the phone, smooth and to the point. “I need you and Oscar to attend a gathering tonight. Max, Charles, Andrea, and I will be there. It’s for work, and we need both of you on-site.”
Lando frowned. “A party?”
His dad’s tone was dry, but there was an edge of something else. “Something like that. You’ll need to wear suits. Both of you.”
Lando's eyes narrowed, and he glanced toward Oscar, who was sitting nearby, flipping through a file. His heart rate picked up as his dad’s words sunk in. “Suits, huh?” he muttered under his breath. “Alright.”
There was a brief pause, and then his dad continued, “Oscar is going as your bodyguard. Be there on time, and don’t screw it up.”
Lando let out a soft laugh, though it felt forced. “Yeah, sure. We’ll be there.”
His dad hung up without another word, leaving the apartment to settle into an almost suffocating silence. Lando stared at his phone for a moment before meeting Oscar’s gaze across the room. Oscar hadn’t missed the conversation, of course. His eyes locked with Lando’s, unreadable, as always, but there was a subtle shift in his expression.
“You heard that?” Lando asked, feeling his stomach tighten.
Oscar set the file down with a soft thud and stood up slowly, his movements deliberate. He walked toward the closet, his gaze flicking over to Lando. “I did. We need to get ready.”
Lando didn’t move immediately, still processing the idea of being surrounded by his dad, Max, Charles, and Andrea, all of them in some high-stakes work gathering, and him—looking completely out of place. And Oscar as his bodyguard… He frowned, unsure how to feel about that.
Oscar rummaged through his own closet, pulling out a sleek black suit. Lando’s eyes followed him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint why he felt a tightening in his chest. He was used to Oscar being calm, collected, professional—he’d seen him in all kinds of situations. But the idea of Oscar in a suit, of him looking even more like the kind of person who commanded attention, was suddenly making Lando’s palms sweat.
“Suit,” Oscar said, breaking the silence, his voice no different from usual. “You need to wear it too.”
Lando glanced up at him. “Yeah, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this whole thing.”
Oscar didn’t respond immediately. He simply glanced at Lando for a brief moment, raising an eyebrow as though the answer was obvious. “You’ll be fine. Now get dressed. We’re leaving in an hour.”
Lando dragged himself to his own room, staring blankly at his wardrobe. He didn’t have a lot of suits, but he managed to pull out a black one he’d bought for the occasional formal event. It was tight around the shoulders but fit well enough that he wouldn’t look completely out of place. The idea of wearing it, though, felt strange. He wasn’t used to this kind of world—his dad’s, Max’s, Charles’s—people who lived in high society, in the spotlight.
It felt like a costume, something he could put on and pretend to belong, but as soon as the moment passed, he’d take it off and retreat into something more familiar.
He finished getting dressed quickly, adjusting the tie at the last minute. When he stepped into the hallway, he was met with the sight of Oscar standing in front of the mirror, buttoning up his jacket. Lando’s breath caught in his throat.
Oscar looked… different. Different in a way that was almost hard to comprehend. The dark suit, the sharp cut of it, the way it molded to his body—it wasn’t just that Oscar looked good in it. It was that he commanded the space. He looked dangerous, elegant, in control. Like he belonged in that world, as if it was where he was meant to be all along.
Lando stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, the words trapped in his throat. Oscar’s eyes flicked to him through the mirror, catching his gaze. There was a brief, almost imperceptible pause before Oscar gave him a small, approving nod.
“Not bad, Lando,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, like he wasn’t quite used to seeing Lando in a suit either.
Lando’s heart skipped a beat. He looked down at his own suit, suddenly feeling far more self-conscious than before. “Uh, thanks. You, uh, you look…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, not sure how to express what he was feeling.
Oscar turned to face him fully, his gaze assessing but not unkind. “I know.” There was a slight, amused smirk at the corner of his lips as he reached for his watch, adjusting it slightly.
Lando felt his cheeks flush, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Oscar, who seemed completely unfazed by the effect he had on Lando. Oscar adjusted his cufflinks slowly, each movement deliberate, and Lando couldn’t help but feel a pang of something he couldn’t quite define—admiration, maybe. Or something deeper.
Oscar finally turned toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Ready to go, Princess?” he asked, his voice playful, though there was a sharpness to it that reminded Lando of their roles tonight.
Lando nodded, his throat dry. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”
They stepped out of the apartment into the waiting car, Lando still reeling from the sight of Oscar, trying to calm his racing heart. As the car pulled away, Lando couldn’t help but glance over at Oscar, who was looking out the window with a quiet, unreadable expression. The tension between them lingered, but it was different now. There was something else—something unspoken—but for now, it was something Lando didn’t feel ready to confront.
The moment Lando and Oscar entered the venue, the buzz of conversation and laughter immediately filled the air. The grand ballroom was already alive with energy—people dressed in sharp suits and elegant gowns, glasses clinking, and the hum of orchestral music playing softly in the background. But for Lando, none of it mattered at first. His attention was immediately drawn to the people he knew.
His dad, standing off to one side with Max and Charles, greeted them with a quick nod before his eyes shifted to Lando. His gaze immediately fell to the faint red mark on Lando’s neck—where the knife had almost cut too deep—and Lando stiffened, his heart leaping in his chest.
Zak’s eyes darkened, his brow furrowing as he took a step forward. “What the hell happened here?” His voice was calm, but there was a warning edge to it.
Lando froze. The words caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. His gaze flicked nervously to Oscar, who was standing behind him with a composed expression, as usual.
Lando’s father raised an eyebrow. “Lando?”
“I, uh…” Lando stumbled over his words, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t lead to too many questions. He was terrible at lying, his voice shaking slightly. “I—there was, uh, an accident. A little mishap earlier. Nothing serious, really.”
Before Lando could continue digging himself deeper into the hole, Oscar stepped in smoothly, his voice low but confident. “We were in a rush, and he bumped into something. That’s all.”
Zak eyed Oscar for a moment, then glanced back at Lando, his expression hard but not suspicious enough to press further. He nodded slowly. “Alright. Just… be careful next time.”
Lando let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relieved that his dad hadn’t pressed him for details. He wanted to say something—anything to make it clear that he hadn’t wanted to end up in that situation—but the words were stuck.
Zak didn’t seem interested in the specifics now. He turned to address the group. “Alright, enough with the small talk,” he said, his voice sharp, pulling the attention of everyone in the room. “Listen up. We’re here for one reason. To get information.”
The group fell into line, everyone’s attention focused on Zak. “The woman hosting this party—Katherine Horner—is the sister of someone we’re all familiar with. You know Horner’s position in all of this, but she doesn’t have the slightest idea what her brother does for a living. We need to gather as much intel from her and her assistant as possible. Understand?”
Max nodded, his jaw set. “Got it.”
Charles shot a quick glance toward Lando and Oscar, the weight of the assignment sinking in. “What’s our approach?”
Zak’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stern. “We’ll divide and conquer. Don’t be too obvious. Make small talk, charm them, whatever it takes. Just get information.”
Lando felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He hated the idea of this covert work—playing nice, pretending to be something he wasn’t—but he knew better than to argue. He just nodded, his eyes flicking briefly toward Oscar, who gave him a subtle nod in return.
The group moved into the ballroom, and Lando couldn’t help but stare as they crossed the threshold. He’d grown up surrounded by wealth, but nothing had prepared him for something like this. The grand chandelier above them sparkled, casting soft light over the polished marble floors. Tall columns lined the walls, each decorated with intricate gold accents. The room was vast, with velvet drapes drawn back from the windows, showcasing an expansive garden that stretched far into the distance. Lando had seen his fair share of lavish events, but this? This felt like something out of a dream.
Everything about the building exuded elegance—classic architecture, high ceilings, and a sense of opulence that Lando had only read about in books. It was the kind of place where every detail mattered, from the perfectly arranged floral centerpieces to the flawless service from the waitstaff. Lando had grown up in luxury, sure, but this? This was something entirely different. It felt otherworldly, as if it belonged to a different echelon of wealth than he’d ever known.
Oscar was beside him, and he could sense the other man’s eyes on him as they took in the scene. Lando felt small in comparison, as though he didn’t quite belong in such a place. His shoulders were stiff, his nerves buzzing beneath his suit, and he was suddenly aware of how out of place he felt. It was as if the whole world here was part of some well-rehearsed performance—every guest playing their part, every interaction carefully measured.
Oscar, though, seemed perfectly at ease. He glanced at Lando, his sharp eyes assessing the situation before he spoke quietly, “Don’t get too caught up in the décor. Focus on the task.”
Lando nodded, pulling his attention away from the surroundings. It was clear from the way people mingled and chatted that this wasn’t just another party. There was something beneath the surface—a reason everyone was here, something hidden in the conversations, the glances exchanged. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly they were walking into.
As they moved deeper into the ballroom, Lando kept his head down, trying to blend in. He could feel the weight of the evening pressing down on him—the pressure of needing to perform, to fit in, to act like this was just another night for someone like him. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t. Tonight, he wasn’t just Lando Norris, the privileged son of Zak. He was something more—an asset, a pawn, playing a part in a game he was only beginning to understand.
He glanced at Oscar again, this time noticing the subtle confidence in his posture. Oscar was in control here, always. And maybe, just maybe, Lando was learning to keep up.
The party was in full swing now. Lando and Oscar had separated to blend in with the crowd, keeping their eyes open for anything useful. The hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, the elegant murmur of the orchestra—it was all a blur to Lando, who couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. As they walked through the room, the atmosphere thickened, the tension in the air growing heavier.
It didn’t take long for them to spot her—Katherine Horner, the woman who’d been pulling the strings behind the scenes, casually chatting with a group of guests. She was tall, with an air of elegance and authority, dressed in a deep red gown that contrasted sharply with her platinum blonde hair. The way she held herself reminded Lando of the women his father used to associate with, only there was something colder about her. Something calculating.
Oscar, naturally, was already making his move.
“Stay close,” Oscar murmured to Lando, giving him a sideways glance before stepping forward with that trademark confidence of his. He approached Katherine with the kind of charm that made everyone else in the room look like amateurs. It was smooth, effortless—Oscar didn’t need to try, and that was what made it work.
Lando stood to the side, feeling the tension in his chest coil tighter as he watched. Oscar’s words were low and alluring, his smile wide and easy as he leaned in just a little too close, the perfect amount of touch to keep the conversation flirtatious without crossing a line.
"Ms. Horner," Oscar said, voice like silk. "I must say, this party is absolutely exquisite. A woman with such taste, I’m sure there’s much more to you than just the sister of a man who keeps to the shadows."
Katherine laughed, the sound light and musical, and Lando could hear it even from a few feet away. She seemed to bask in the attention, the subtle but unmistakable shift in her posture.
“Flatterer,” she replied, tossing her hair back and looking at Oscar through half-lidded eyes. “But you’re not wrong. There’s always more to the story, isn’t there?”
Lando, now standing off to the side, felt the pit in his stomach deepen. He didn’t know why, but watching Oscar talk to her—flirting so easily, with that ridiculous smile of his—was making something in Lando twist uncomfortably. It wasn’t jealousy, no… Lando refused to admit that. But he couldn’t deny the way Oscar’s easy charm was drawing all of her attention, and how Katherine was eating it up.
Lando’s thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice next to him.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
Lando turned, startled to find a tall, brunette woman standing beside him. She was smiling coyly, her eyes scanning him with an interest that felt almost too calculated.
“Can I help you?” Lando asked, his voice coming out sharper than he intended.
The woman just smiled more. “I hope so,” she said smoothly. “I don’t recognize you, but you must be someone important if you’re here with all these—well, let’s say, high-profile people.”
Lando’s eyes flicked back to Oscar and Katherine. They were deep in conversation now, and Oscar was leaning closer than before. Lando couldn’t focus. His attention kept darting back to them—Oscar’s smile, the way Katherine was practically hanging on his every word.
The woman standing next to him must have noticed, because she tilted her head and leaned in just a little closer. “You know,” she began, “I could never get tired of the people in this room. But, you seem different. A bit out of place, don’t you think?”
Lando blinked, shaking his head to clear it. “I’m fine,” he said, his mind still somewhere else.
“You sure?” The woman’s hand brushed against his arm, and it pulled Lando back into the moment. Her touch was deliberate, lingering, but he barely registered it. His mind was focused entirely on Oscar now.
Oscar was still talking to Katherine, but now there was a spark in the way they were looking at each other. Lando could hear their conversation faintly, the words just out of reach.
He was furious with himself. Why did it matter so much? It wasn’t like Oscar was doing anything wrong—he was just doing his job. But still…
Lando’s eyes narrowed as the woman in front of him continued to talk. Something in her voice nagged at him, but he couldn’t fully concentrate on what she was saying. “I’m, uh, not sure I—”
"Maybe I could show you around," the woman interrupted, her tone smooth. She moved closer, brushing her fingers against his chest. Lando stiffened slightly, trying to focus on her, but his thoughts were a mess.
He heard Katherine laugh again, a sound so light and flirtatious that it made Lando’s stomach turn. He couldn’t stand it. His jealousy, or whatever it was, was growing rapidly.
His gaze drifted back to Oscar, who was now talking to Katherine’s assistant. That’s when it happened—Oscar’s eyes flicked over to Lando, but they weren’t soft anymore. His gaze hardened as it landed on the woman who was standing just a bit too close to Lando.
Lando smirked. The expression on Oscar’s face was enough to make him want to laugh. It was cold, like a predator had just spotted its prey—but in the weirdest, most hypocritical way possible.
At that moment, Lando decided to have a little fun. If Oscar wanted to play that game, then so could he.
Lando leaned in closer to the woman, smiling brightly as he said, “Well, I’m actually just here for a little... business, you know? But I’m sure I could make time for a more interesting conversation.”
The woman laughed, and her hand brushed against his chest again. Lando could tell she was enjoying the attention, and as much as he hated himself for it, he kept playing along. “So, what’s your name, princess?” he teased.
The woman giggled, moving even closer. “Well, aren’t you a charmer? I’m Samantha Horner—Christians daughter.”
Lando’s pulse skipped a beat. He held back a smirk as he continued the conversation, but all the while, his mind was focused on Oscar. Oscar’s eyes were still trained on him, but this time, they were dark with something Lando couldn’t quite place.
Oscar, the man who was always so composed, now looked like he was about to snap. And Lando wasn’t sure why, but he liked it. He liked it a lot.
A few minutes of flirting later, Lando realised that Oscar was nowhere to be found, he excused himself from Samantha, who looked rather disappointed. He made his way through the crowd, weaving between people with practiced ease until he spotted a set of stairs leading upstairs. He headed up, keeping his gaze sharp.
It didn’t take long for him to find the door. It was slightly ajar, and when he pushed it open, his breath caught.
Oscar was standing in the middle of the room, his shirt disheveled, and there were lipstick stains on his neck. Lando’s stomach twisted in a way that made him want to punch something. He knew he didn’t have the right to be mad—hell, he wasn’t even supposed to care—but seeing Oscar like this made his mind race.
“What the hell?” Lando snapped, his voice tight.
Oscar turned, a smirk playing on his lips. “Had to get some info somehow,” he said, completely unfazed, wiping at the red lipstick smudge from the corner of his lip.
Lando’s temper flared. “You—how could you—?”
Oscar raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What’s wrong, princess? Jealous?” he teased, his tone laced with mockery.
Lando bit back a retort, his fists clenching at his sides. “No, of course not,” he bit out, trying to sound nonchalant, but the frustration was bubbling under his skin.
Oscar’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Info is info, right?”
Lando honestly saw red. His patience snapped. “If I knew you were here making out with Katherine and not in danger, I would’ve stayed with Samantha. She’s gorgeous, you know? Funny too. Even offered to get out of here. Info is info, right?” He threw back, his voice dripping with sarcasm, a bitter edge to each word.
Oscar’s expression darkened, his jaw clenched. It was clear Lando had hit a nerve, and Oscar didn’t take the jab well. The playful smirk was gone, replaced by something colder—something dangerous.
“Let’s go,” Oscar muttered, his voice low, grabbing Lando by the wrist with a firm grip, his fingers digging into the skin as he started dragging him toward the door.
Lando could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the heat of the moment rising. The tension between them crackled in the air as they made their way through the hall, and Lando’s mind was racing. His chest felt tight, and despite everything, there was something about Oscar's grip on him that only made the frustration worse.
Back at the meeting point, Max and Charles noticed Oscar and Lando walking in, and Max grinned widely. “Damn, who the hell attacked your ass?” he laughed, eyeing the lipstick stains on Oscar’s face.
Oscar smirked, leaning slightly against the wall, and with an almost casual tone, he replied, “Katherine Horner.”
The room fell silent, all eyes widening, and the air grew thick with shock. Everyone's jaws dropped except for Lando, who kept his face carefully neutral, his gaze flicking quickly to Oscar before looking away.
Zak glanced at Lando, his brow furrowing as he took in his son’s demeanor. “Lando, you okay?” he asked, his voice softer, though there was a sharpness in his eyes.
Lando’s lips curled into a sarcastic grin. “Yep, missing Samantha already,” he shot back, his voice cool but edged with irony, clearly trying to dismiss the conversation.
Oscar’s eyes narrowed immediately, his jaw tightening, and the brief flicker of frustration on his face didn’t go unnoticed.
Charles blinked at them both. “Christian’s daughter???” he asked incredulously.
“Mhm,” Lando hummed, his tone dismissive, not meeting Oscar's gaze.
Max laughed, clearly finding the whole situation amusing. “Jesus, both of you got the best ones.” But even as he joked, the eyes of the group flickered back and forth between Lando and Oscar, sensing the charge in the air between them.
Andrea cleared her throat to break the tension. “So, did everyone get enough info?”
The group nodded in agreement, their voices almost relieved to move on from the awkwardness.
“Let’s go back home then,” Zak said, his tone firm. “Everyone, fill in the information into the files.”
The group scattered to get to their respective vehicles. Lando and Oscar walked out side by side, the silence between them almost suffocating. The drive back to Lando’s apartment was heavy, and the air seemed to pulse with unresolved tension.
Lando couldn’t hold back, his words sharp as the silence stretched between them. “You know, Oscar, Samantha was actually fun. I have no idea how she’s Christian’s daughter. She’s funny, smart, and doesn’t try to work me for info.” The sarcasm was thick, but there was more underneath—the jealousy lacing his voice was clear.
Oscar’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. The edge in Lando’s tone made his jaw tighten too. He couldn’t mask the flash of irritation that crossed his face, though he quickly tried to pull it together. “Well, maybe you should’ve stayed with her, then,” he muttered, his voice low, the words loaded with something else.
Lando’s chest tightened at the response, but he quickly masked it with a laugh that sounded too harsh to be convincing. “Yeah? Maybe I should have.” He couldn’t stop the bitterness from creeping into his voice. “At least she wasn’t using me like Katherine was.”
Oscar’s lips tightened at Lando’s words, and for a second, he stole a glance at him. There was something shifting behind his eyes, but he quickly wiped it away. His voice came out cold, distant. “Flirting’s part of the job, Lando.”
Lando raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat, his voice sharp with the underlying jealousy. “Oh, really? Was shoving tongues down each other’s throats also part of the job?”
Oscar’s jaw twitched at the words, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to steady his breathing. The silence between them stretched, thick with tension. Lando could practically feel the anger simmering just beneath the surface, and he hated how much it affected him. He wanted to push Oscar to the edge, but every part of him was conflicted.
“Flirting’s part of the job,” Oscar repeated, but this time, his voice lacked its usual confidence. There was something behind it—a crack in the coldness, a flicker of something he didn’t want Lando to see.
Lando didn’t let up. “You didn’t seem like you were just getting information, Oscar,” he muttered under his breath, leaning back further into the seat, his eyes narrowing. “Seems like you were enjoying it a little too much.”
Oscar’s knuckles tightened on the wheel, his jaw clenching. He couldn’t stop himself from shooting a quick glance at Lando, a hard look flashing in his eyes before he quickly looked away. “Just doing my job,” he said, his voice rougher now.
Lando crossed his arms, his pulse quickening with every second of silence that followed. He was getting under Oscar’s skin, and it felt like a victory, even though he hated the way his heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest. “Sure, Oscar,” he said, the sarcasm practically dripping from his words. “Your job. Just like you’ve always said. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The tension was unbearable, neither of them willing to break the silence, but both of them clearly fighting to hold onto control. Neither could admit the truth of the situation, not when it would mean facing something neither of them were ready to face.
Oscar glanced at the rearview mirror, his brows furrowing. “We’ve got company,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with urgency.
“What?” Lando snapped, his voice rising in pitch as he twisted in his seat to look behind them. His stomach dropped when he saw the three black vans tailing them. “Shit,” he mumbled, his pulse already racing.
“No problem,” Oscar murmured under his breath, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Without hesitation, he shifted gears and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, the car surging forward with a roar.
Lando’s hands flew to brace himself against the dashboard as the sudden acceleration threw him back into his seat. “No problem? Are you kidding me?!”
Oscar didn’t answer, his focus locked on the road ahead. The car wove through traffic with terrifying precision, each movement smooth and deliberate. The black vans followed closely, engines revving as they gave chase.
Lando glanced back, his breath catching in his throat. “They’re still on us!” he shouted, his voice tinged with panic.
Oscar didn’t flinch. “Working on it,” he replied, his voice maddeningly steady.
The first van made a daring attempt to close the gap, but Oscar’s sharp turn into an alley caused the driver to overcorrect, slamming into the second van with a metallic crunch. The sound of the collision echoed in Lando’s ears.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Lando muttered under his breath, gripping his seatbelt as if it could somehow anchor him.
The third van, undeterred, stayed on their tail. Oscar’s jaw tightened as he navigated through the tight streets, the car moving with almost supernatural agility. He took a hard turn, tires screeching against the pavement, sending the pursuing van skidding into a lamppost.
Lando’s wide eyes darted between Oscar and the rapidly shrinking danger behind them. “You’re insane!” he shouted, his voice cracking from the adrenaline.
Oscar ignored him, his gaze flicking to the rearview mirror one last time to confirm they were in the clear. The road ahead was empty. He eased off the gas, the car settling into a steadier pace.
Lando’s chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhaled, clutching at his chest as if to steady the frantic beating of his heart.
Oscar glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “You okay?” he asked, his tone softer now.
“Yeah, yeah, uh—” Lando stumbled over his words, still trying to process what just happened. “Where the fuck did you learn how to drive like that?” His voice wavered, disbelief etched in every syllable.
Oscar’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, his eyes flicked back to the rearview mirror, as if the ghosts of the chase lingered there. “My dad,” he said dryly, his tone clipped.
The words hit Lando like a punch to the chest. His own father’s voice echoed in his mind, casually mentioning once that Oscar’s dad had been a racer, just like Oscar, until a crash had claimed his life.
“Wait—shit, sorry—I didn’t even realise,” Lando began, his voice small, guilt seeping into every word.
“Don’t.” Oscar cut him off, his tone firm, final.
Lando immediately shut his mouth, the atmosphere in the car suddenly heavier than it had been moments ago. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at Oscar, whose expression was unreadable.
The rest of the drive was consumed by silence, the kind that spoke louder than words.
The car ride back to the apartment felt like it lasted forever, the silence thick and suffocating. Lando’s mind was a tangled mess, replaying the chase, Oscar’s words, the way his voice had gone sharp and distant when he mentioned his dad. He knew he should apologize again, but the way Oscar had shut him down left him second-guessing everything.
When they finally arrived, Lando all but bolted from the car, eager to put space between them. Oscar followed at his usual calm pace, his face unreadable. Lando couldn’t tell if he was still angry, or if he’d already moved on.
The apartment was too quiet when they stepped inside. Lando lingered in the kitchen, staring blankly into the fridge. The rush of adrenaline from earlier had left him drained, and his chest still felt tight. His gaze landed on a pair of Red Bulls tucked into the corner. Maybe… maybe this would be his olive branch.
He grabbed the cans and hesitated for a moment, working up the nerve to walk to Oscar’s room. He could hear faint movement as he approached, his pulse picking up again for reasons he didn’t fully understand.
Lando reached the doorway, about to speak, but froze in place when his eyes landed on Oscar. The door was open, as it always seemed to be, and Oscar was standing there, back to Lando his shirt discarded onto a nearby chair, leaving his torso completely bare. The soft, dim light of the room caught the lines of his toned shoulders and back, casting faint shadows over the curve of muscle and the faint scar that trailed along his side. Lando couldn’t look away if he tried.
Oscar reached up, running a hand through his hair, seemingly unaware of Lando’s presence—or maybe just pretending not to notice. His movements were smooth, unhurried, and maddeningly casual, as if standing there half-naked with the door wide open was the most natural thing in the world.
Lando’s brain short-circuited, his hand tightening reflexively around the cold can of Red Bull he was holding. He should have turned and walked away. He should have knocked. But instead, he stood there, frozen, as his heart thudded erratically in his chest.
Oscar didn’t acknowledge him at first, busying himself with removing the cufflinks from his discarded jacket, his movements precise and calm, as though the entire room wasn’t suffocating with tension. Lando knew he should leave—knew this was already teetering on the edge of something he wasn’t ready to face—but his feet wouldn’t obey.
“What?” Oscar’s voice cut through the silence, low and calm. He didn’t look at Lando, but the slight tilt of his head and the pause in his movements made it clear he’d noticed. “Did you need something?”
Lando snapped out of his trance, his cheeks flushing as he realized he’d been caught staring. “I—I brought you a drink,” he stammered, awkwardly holding up the can in his hand. He winced at how stupid he sounded, but it was too late to take it back now.
Oscar turned fully to face him, and Lando’s breath hitched at the sight. His chest was smooth, a sheen of sweat still faintly visible from the adrenaline of their earlier escape. His dark eyes flicked down to the can in Lando’s hand before rising back to meet his gaze, and the smirk on his lips deepened.
“Thoughtful,” Oscar murmured, stepping closer. He reached out to take the can, and as their fingers brushed, Lando swore he felt a spark. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to keep it together.
Lando shifted awkwardly, unsure whether to stay or go. The silence stretched between them, thick and charged, and when Oscar set the can down, his eyes flicked back to Lando with a subtle scrutiny that made his pulse quicken.
“You okay?” Oscar asked, his voice softer now, quieter, but it carried a weight that made Lando’s stomach twist.
“Uh… yeah…” Lando’s voice wavered, and he almost flinched at how pathetic he sounded. He scrambled for something to say, some way to shift the focus away from himself. “Um… are you?”
Oscar’s expression shifted, something flickering in his eyes. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, and Lando’s breath caught as the air between them grew thinner. “You’re scared,” Oscar said, his tone low but pointed.
“What? No,” Lando blurted, his laugh high-pitched and unconvincing. “No, I’m not scared. Why would I be scared?”
Oscar tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly as he continued his slow advance. “You’re scared of me, Lando.”
“I’m not—” Lando started, but his voice faltered when Oscar took another step forward, closing the distance between them.
Lando pressed back against the doorframe as Oscar leaned in, his bare chest mere inches from Lando’s, the faint scent of cologne and adrenaline still clinging to him. Lando’s breath hitched when he felt the warmth of Oscar’s breath against his skin.
“You’re scared of me,” Oscar repeated, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, but it was laced with something dangerous—something that made Lando’s entire body go still. His gaze dropped to Lando’s lips for the briefest second before flicking back up to meet his eyes.
“I’m not scared of you,” Lando whispered, his voice shaking slightly as he tried to sound convincing, though his body betrayed him with every shallow breath.
Oscar’s lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smirk—it was something softer, something unreadable. “Then why do you keep hovering like I might break?” he murmured, his voice low and heavy, every word laced with tension.
“I’m not hovering,” Lando managed to choke out, though the crack in his voice made it sound more like a question than a statement.
Oscar’s hand lifted, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Lando thought he was going to touch him. But instead, Oscar braced his hand on the doorframe, leaning in just enough that Lando could feel the heat radiating from his skin. His dark eyes bored into Lando’s, searching, calculating, and utterly unrelenting.
“Are you scared of me, Lando?” Oscar asked again, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Lando’s spine. The question hung in the air between them, heavier this time, and Lando felt his pulse pounding in his ears.
“No,” Lando whispered, barely audible, though the way his body trembled beneath Oscar’s gaze betrayed him.
For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, like they were suspended in this charged, fragile space where neither dared to move. Lando swore he could feel the electricity in the air, the way it crackled and burned, threatening to consume him entirely.
Oscar’s voice was low, steady, and completely unreadable. “Prove it.”
Lando almost choked on his breath, his eyes widening as the words settled in. “I—uh—what?” he stammered, his throat dry, the weight of the challenge making his chest tighten.
Oscar didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact. His gaze bore into Lando’s, unwavering, and something in it made Lando’s skin tingle. “You heard me,” Oscar said, his tone softer now but no less commanding. “Prove it.”
Lando’s mind was a mess of static, his thoughts colliding in a chaotic loop. Prove it? How? What does he even mean? His hand twitched at his side, trembling with indecision. He glanced at Oscar’s face, the sharpness of his jaw, the tension in his features, the way his chest rose and fell in steady, controlled breaths.
And then, as if pulled by an invisible force, Lando reached out. His hand hovered for a moment before his fingers lightly touched the skin of Oscar’s waist. Warm. Solid. Real. His breath hitched as Oscar’s muscles shifted under his touch, a barely perceptible movement that sent a shiver racing down Lando’s spine.
Oscar inhaled sharply, the sound quiet but unmistakable, and it felt like it echoed in the space between them. His eyes flickered, but he didn’t move away, didn’t say anything to stop Lando.
Taking that as permission—or maybe just running on pure adrenaline—Lando let his hand slide up, fingertips trailing over the taut curve of Oscar’s side until they brushed his shoulder. He could feel every movement of Oscar’s muscles beneath his palm, could hear the faint sound of his own breathing, too quick and shallow.
Oscar’s eyes never left him. They were locked on Lando, dark and intense, like they were stripping him bare, seeing straight through him. Lando swallowed hard, his hand still trembling as it shifted again, this time moving up to cup the side of Oscar’s face. His thumb brushed against the sharp line of Oscar’s jaw, the roughness of stubble under his fingertips making his pulse race even faster.
Oscar’s breath hitched now, his control cracking just enough for Lando to notice. Their eyes locked again, and this time, neither of them looked away. Lando’s gaze flicked down to Oscar’s mouth—his lips, slightly parted, so close he could almost feel the warmth of them.
He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly the space between them felt smaller, the air thicker. His nose brushed Oscar’s, their foreheads almost touching, their breaths mingling. Lando’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Oscar could hear it.
Every nerve in his body was on fire as their lips hovered, just barely apart, their breaths coming faster. The tension was unbearable, electric, a pull neither of them could resist. Lando’s fingers tightened slightly against Oscar’s cheek, his eyes fluttering closed as they both leaned in just a fraction more—
Then, the sharp, shrill sound of a ringtone cut through the moment like a knife.
Oscar froze. His jaw tightened beneath Lando’s hand as the tension shattered, leaving a strange, empty ache in its place. Lando’s eyes flew open, his heart still racing, and he stumbled back a step as if he’d been burned.
Oscar let out a low curse under his breath, turning away to grab his phone from the bedside table. He didn’t look at Lando as he answered it, his voice clipped and professional. “Yeah?”
Lando stayed frozen where he was, heart pounding as he watched Oscar’s back, the moment that had just been shattered still crackling in the air around them. He could hear the faint voice on the other end of the call but couldn’t make out the words. Oscar’s posture stiffened, his shoulders tensing.
“Yes, we’re fine,” Oscar said, his voice steady but edged with irritation. “No, there wasn’t a scratch on him.”
Lando blinked, his confusion mixing with the remnants of the charged tension still thrumming through his body. Scratch on him? What—
Oscar exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It was handled. No need to worry about it. We’re back at the apartment now.”
Then it hit Lando. The car chase. Dad found out.
Oscar’s tone shifted slightly, softer but still firm. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re fine. It’s not the first time this has happened.” There was a pause, and Lando caught a flicker of something—guilt, maybe?—on Oscar’s face before he added, “It won’t happen again.”
Lando’s stomach twisted. The way Oscar was speaking, so composed and controlled, was a stark contrast to the chaos of their escape just minutes ago. He didn’t know how Oscar could be so calm about it, but the mention of Zak made his throat tighten.
Oscar’s eyes briefly flicked toward Lando as Zak said something else on the line, and Lando tensed up, feeling the weight of the gaze even though Oscar didn’t hold it for long. “Yes,” Oscar said finally, cutting off whatever Zak was saying. “We’ll update you if anything changes. Goodnight.”
He hung up and let the phone fall onto the nearby dresser with a thud. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his jaw tight, his fingers briefly flexing at his sides like he was working to release some of the tension in his body.
“Dad?” Lando ventured, his voice hesitant.
Oscar nodded once, his tone clipped. “He found out about the vans.”
Lando’s stomach dropped. “Oh,” he said, his voice quiet. “Is he mad?”
“No.” Oscar turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “Just worried.” He paused, his gaze flicking over Lando like he was checking him for any lingering signs of harm. “I told him we’re fine.”
Lando nodded slowly, the weight of Oscar’s words sinking in. But there was something else in the room now, heavier than Zak’s concern or the aftermath of the chase. It was the almost kiss-moment, still hanging between them like a live wire. Lando didn’t know what to do with it, how to address it—or if he even should.
Oscar exhaled deeply and rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting toward the hallway. “I need some water,” he muttered and turned toward the kitchen.
Lando watched him go, his own chest tight as he stayed rooted to the spot. What the hell just happened?
Lando tossed and turned in his bed, the covers tangled around his legs, but sleep wouldn’t come. His mind buzzed, relentless, picking at thoughts he couldn’t seem to shake. The quiet of the night only made it worse. He glanced at the clock—too early to be awake, but too late to get comfortable again. With a soft groan, he sat up and threw off the blankets, deciding to give up on sleep for now.
As he padded quietly down the hall, he noticed a dim light seeping out from under the living room door. He pushed it open softly, and there, sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey in hand, was Oscar.
Oscar didn’t look up when Lando entered. He was staring out the window at the city lights, the glass in his hand catching the light. Lando hesitated, standing there for a moment, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like him to just sit down beside someone at this hour, but the thought of being alone with his restless mind was too much.
Finally, he padded over to the couch, the wooden floor creaking softly under his feet. He sat down next to Oscar, careful not to make too much noise.
Oscar turned his head, catching Lando’s eye. “Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low, as if the stillness of the night made every word feel more significant.
Lando shrugged, his gaze flicking to the city lights outside the window. “Yeah… you?”
“Same,” Oscar replied, his voice distant, though there was an underlying warmth there. He didn’t seem surprised by Lando’s presence, as if he’d known all along that he wasn’t the only one up.
The two sat in silence, the only sound between them being the faint hum of the city beneath the dark sky. Lando fidgeted, unsure of what to say. The stillness felt heavy, but oddly comforting.
After a moment, Oscar broke the silence, his voice breaking the quiet air like a soft ripple on a still lake. “Drink?”
Lando hesitated, thinking about the whiskey in Oscar’s hand. “Not a big fan of alcohol, but sure,” he mumbled, unsure why he agreed, but feeling the need to be a part of this moment.
Oscar smirked as he poured another shot of whiskey, then handed the glass to Lando with a small shrug. “Well, if something goes wrong, Zak will kill me,” he murmured, the faintest amusement in his voice.
Lando chuckled lightly, though it came out more awkward than intended. He took the glass from Oscar, raising it briefly in a silent toast before he drank. The warmth spread through him, slow and tingling, the alcohol hitting him harder than he expected.
They both sat in silence again, the buzz of the whiskey making Lando feel loose, more comfortable. It wasn’t long before he felt the courage to speak up, his words coming more freely than they would have sober.
“Hey, um… I just… I wanted to apologize,” Lando began, his voice thick with the alcohol, though his tone was genuine. He turned to look at Oscar, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t mean to bring up your dad earlier… I didn’t realize how out of line it was.”
Oscar’s gaze softened, and he shrugged, as if brushing it off. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm. “It’s been years, Lando. Honestly, I’d like to be able to talk about it like a normal person, but… I can’t.”
Lando nodded, understanding the weight in his words. He felt a flicker of sympathy, but also a deep respect for Oscar’s silence. He opened his mouth to say something, but Oscar spoke again, cutting him off.
“It’s fine,” Oscar repeated, a little firmer now, before taking another sip of his whiskey. “It’s just… my dad was a racer. He wanted me to be a racer, too. He wanted his first kid to be a boy who followed in his footsteps.” He paused, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess that’s where you’re right about the ‘normal’ part. I’m not an only child.”
Lando blinked, surprised. “Oh… so you have siblings?”
Oscar nodded, his gaze distant. “Three younger sisters. They’re all pretty much the opposite of me, you know? But they never really understood what racing meant to him.”
Lando shifted slightly, his curiosity piqued. “And your dad? He was supportive?”
Oscar chuckled softly, though there was no real joy in it. “He was supportive in his own way. He loved me dearly. I knew that.” He turned to Lando, the glass of whiskey held loosely in his hand as he stared at it, the reflection of the city lights in his eyes. “But, uh, yeah, that all ended when the crash happened. When I found out it was him… when I found out he was the one in that wreck…”
His voice trailed off for a moment, and Lando felt a pang of sympathy for him, though he said nothing. Oscar cleared his throat before continuing, his voice thickening. “I was sitting in the hospital. The doctor came back. I’ll never forget the look on his face… that’s a moment that sticks with you forever. When I found out, everything just… it felt like everything collapsed. I couldn’t do it anymore. I dropped racing, just like that. And then… I ended up in a gang. The worst one you could imagine. The kind of place you don’t get out of easily.”
Lando didn’t know what to say to that. His mind was racing, trying to comprehend the weight of Oscar’s words. He shifted closer, offering the only comfort he knew. “Oscar… you don’t have to go through all this with me. If it’s too much…”
Oscar shook his head, a slight, almost imperceptible smile on his face. “Nah. It’s fine. You asked.” He looked at Lando again, this time with an expression that seemed almost… relieved. “Eventually, I climbed my way out of it. Got here, doing what I do now. Working for Zak.”
Lando leaned back against the couch, his glass of whiskey in hand. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside and the occasional clink of ice. He could feel the weight of the conversation pressing on him. It was the kind of talk that peeled away layers, exposing things he’d buried deep.
It started with a thought, a strange realization that slipped out before he could stop it. “Funny, isn’t it?” he said, staring out the window at the city lights below. “It’s like we’re opposites. You ended up doing what your dad wanted, and I, well… I didn’t.”
Oscar glanced at him, the words catching his attention. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.
Lando’s fingers tightened around his glass. He wasn’t sure why he was telling Oscar this—he didn’t even fully understand why it mattered now—but it felt right to say it, to finally get it off his chest. “I never knew what my dad did for work when I was a kid,” he said, his voice quiet, almost to himself. “I remember in school, the teacher asked everyone what their parents did, and everyone answered with no struggle, no hesitation. But I had no idea what my dad did.”
He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before continuing. “When I came home, I told him what had happened, and he just looked at me and said to say he was a mechanic. That’s all he told me. I didn’t think much of it then. But when I turned 17, I found out what he really did.”
Lando’s voice softened, the memory still vivid in his mind. “I walked in one day, and he was wiping blood off his hands. That’s when it all clicked. That’s when I realized what he was involved in. I… I told him I’d never be like him. That I’d never kill anyone, even if it was my worst enemy.”
He shook his head, laughing bitterly. “So here I am today, just some normal kid, with a shit ton of money, thanks to my dad. But I still have no idea what this whole thing is—what do you even call it? Mafia? Agency? I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even know if we’re the ‘good guys.’ I like Max and Charles. I trust them. But I still don’t know.”
Oscar listened intently, his eyes never leaving Lando. He didn’t interrupt, giving Lando the space to speak.
“My mom left my dad for another man,” Lando continued, his voice quieter now. “I don’t talk to her much—just occasional texts. And I’m an only child, so I don’t really have anyone to share this stuff with. I mean, yeah, I grew up with money, but it’s lonely, you know? I’ve barely had friends. My dad always kept me protected, because his job puts me in danger, so when he told me I’d have a bodyguard…” He trailed off, exhaling a shaky breath. “I just felt weak. Annoyed even.”
Oscar’s gaze softened, but he didn’t say anything immediately. Lando took another sip from his glass, feeling the warmth spread inside him, but the tightness in his chest remained.
“I never agreed to his offer, though,” Lando continued, “never followed in his footsteps. And now, here I am—caught in the middle of whatever this is. I didn’t want to end up like him, and now… I don’t know. I’m stuck.”
The silence between them stretched for a moment, and Oscar’s gaze never wavered. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but surprisingly understanding. “It’s not easy, Lando,” he said, his tone reassuring. “You don’t have to be like him. And you don’t have to follow his path. But, you know…” He paused, an almost playful look crossing his face. “How about I teach you how to use a gun tomorrow, huh?”
Lando blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. “You know what?” he replied, chuckling lightly. “Sure. Why not?”
Oscar’s smirk grew wider. “It might help you feel a little less weak.” He took another sip of his drink, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief.
Lando laughed softly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I’m not sure if that’s the solution I need, but I guess I’ll take it.” He leaned back, staring out at the city lights once more. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone in all of this.
Oscar nudged him lightly with his shoulder. “It’s a start,” he said quietly.
And for a brief moment, Lando let himself believe that maybe it was.
The night had stretched on longer than either of them anticipated. The whiskey kept flowing, each glass deepening the buzz that was already beginning to cloud Lando's mind. It was a strange kind of comfort—the way the alcohol dulled everything, made everything feel a little less heavy, even if only for a few hours.
Lando felt light, like he was floating, the world around him spinning just enough to make him laugh at things he usually wouldn't find funny. The apartment had grown quieter, save for the sound of their voices and the occasional clink of ice against glass. Neither of them had mentioned bed, or sleep, but neither seemed in a hurry to stop drinking.
Oscar poured another round, a bit too much this time. "To making questionable decisions," he said, his grin mischievous as he handed Lando the glass.
Lando lifted his own glass, laughing lightly. "We’re really bad at this, aren't we?" he slurred slightly, raising it to his lips and taking a long sip.
Oscar raised an eyebrow, amused. "Bad at what?"
"This," Lando waved a hand, gesturing vaguely between the two of them, "This whole… whatever this is. Talking. Drinking. Talking while drinking. You know?"
Oscar chuckled, sitting back on the couch, his gaze flickering over to Lando. "I don’t know what you mean," he teased, but his tone was softer than usual, more relaxed. “You’re not so bad at it. I mean, we’ve been doing it for hours now.”
Lando grinned, but the buzz in his head was making it hard to focus. "I don't even remember half of it," he said, leaning back, feeling the warmth in his limbs.
Oscar didn’t seem bothered by it. In fact, he looked almost relieved. "Doesn’t matter," he replied with a slight shrug. "What matters is we’re not pretending anymore, right? Not like we have to hide anything."
Lando blinked, the words floating around him like smoke. He thought about it for a moment, then nodded slowly, his head heavier than he expected. "Yeah. Not pretending."
There was a lull in the conversation. The silence between them felt easy, but something else lingered in the air—tension, unspoken but undeniable. Lando shifted, feeling the weight of his body pushing against the cushions as the room spun again.
"Hey," Oscar said, breaking the silence, his voice a little more serious than before. "You good?"
Lando nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure himself. "Yeah, I think so."
Oscar watched him for a second, as if evaluating whether or not he believed him, then stood, offering his hand. "Come on. You’re about to fall asleep right there."
Lando blinked at the offer, blinking up at him. He had no idea how long they had been sitting here, but it felt like hours. “I’m fine,” he said, though it sounded more like a question.
Oscar smirked, his usual playful demeanor creeping back in. “You’re not fine, but I’m not leaving you on the couch either.” He tugged at Lando’s arm, pulling him up to his feet. The room tilted, but Lando didn’t protest, letting Oscar guide him.
They stumbled to Oscar’s bedroom. The alcohol had their movements uncoordinated, and by the time they made it inside, the bed seemed miles away. Oscar half-pushed, half-guided Lando to sit on the edge of the bed, and Lando flopped down, arms outstretched. The sheets were soft, the pillow cool against his cheek.
The night was reaching its blurry, hazy peak, and Lando was well beyond tipsy. He was absolutely wasted, the alcohol in his system making him unsteady, but not enough to erase the swirling thoughts in his mind. He was slumped against the bed, half-sitting, half-laying, his head fuzzy with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. Oscar, however, was still far more composed. He was just buzzed enough to be relaxed, but not so far gone that he couldn’t keep his bearings. He looked at Lando with a kind of quiet amusement, noticing how Lando’s speech was getting slower and his movements more sloppy.
“You’re completely gone, aren’t you?” Oscar said with a small, affectionate grin, watching Lando’s eyes unfocus slightly.
Lando, however, wasn’t laughing. His eyes were heavy, his thoughts swimming in a cloud of whiskey and whatever else had been on his mind for weeks now. “I wish,” Lando began, his words slurring, “I wish dad didn’t call you when you were so close.”
Oscar blinked, the sudden mention of Lando’s father catching him off guard. His expression softened slightly, but he didn’t say anything at first. He just watched Lando, his smile turning into a small, knowing look. “Lando…” he began, but stopped himself when he saw the way Lando’s head wobbled as he looked up at him.
“Yeah, I know, I’m wasted,” Lando mumbled, not at all offended by the remark. He gave a half-hearted, slightly loopy chuckle, then paused as he stared at the ceiling. His mind was racing, all the walls he’d carefully built up in the past few months seemed to be dissolving now under the influence. "But I’m telling you stuff I never could sober."
Oscar was quiet for a moment, watching as Lando shifted restlessly on the bed. There was something oddly vulnerable about Lando in this state, something that made Oscar’s heart ache just slightly. “Lando, maybe you should sleep…” he said, his voice gently teasing.
But Lando wasn’t having it. His hands moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head with an uncoordinated jerk. Oscar looked at him with raised eyebrows, amusement flickering across his face at the sight of Lando stumbling to strip, but he said nothing. The alcohol was clearly taking over his inhibitions.
Lando, now only in his boxers, rolled over onto his side to face Oscar, the sudden proximity making his heart race faster than it should have. “Doesn’t matter if I’m wasted. I’m telling you stuff,” he slurred, his words dragging out, “stuff I couldn’t say sober.”
Oscar, slightly taken aback, shifted as Lando moved closer. The air between them felt thicker now, charged with something unspoken, something Lando wasn’t in the state to hold back. In his drunken haze, he felt the need to touch Oscar, to let him know what he couldn’t seem to articulate in the quiet moments between them. Without thinking, Lando’s hand slid across Oscar’s chest, his fingers brushing against the skin, soft but deliberate.
Oscar froze for a second, his eyes flicking down at Lando’s hand. “Lando…” he started, but his voice was low, a warning, unsure of where this was going. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react, but Lando wasn’t giving him a chance to think.
“I don’t care,” Lando muttered, his voice thick with the fog of alcohol. “I don’t care if I’m drunk, Oscar. Just—just listen. I… I don’t wanna be like my dad, okay?”
His hand had moved from Oscar’s chest to his shoulder, his fingers just brushing against the skin there. The contact was light, almost accidental, but the way Oscar’s breath hitched made Lando's head spin even more.
Oscar’s expression softened, and he shifted just slightly, trying to maintain some distance while still being close enough to feel the weight of Lando’s words. “You don’t have to be like him, Lando. I don’t care about that,” he said quietly, his voice low and careful, like he didn’t want to shatter the moment.
But Lando wasn’t listening anymore, or maybe he was just too far gone to care. He shifted even closer, his chest brushing against Oscar’s now. “I’m not... like him,” he mumbled, his breath warm against Oscar’s skin. “But you make me feel... like I can be more than that. I never said it, but I—" His words cut off as he stared at Oscar’s face, and for a moment, neither of them moved. There was so much left unsaid, so much hovering between them, but Lando’s lids began to droop, the exhaustion of the alcohol weighing down on him.
Oscar, still fully dressed, was torn between pulling away and giving into the moment. But Lando’s breathing had already evened out, his hand now resting against Oscar’s side in an unspoken plea for reassurance. Oscar exhaled slowly, the weight of the night finally catching up with him. He couldn’t make sense of what was happening, but he wasn’t going to push Lando away now.
With a quiet sigh, Oscar removed his own shirt, the last of his composure slipping away with the alcohol in his system. He shifted until he was lying down properly, Lando still close, the room spinning with the weight of unspoken feelings. Slowly, he reached over and pulled the blanket over both of them, keeping his distance but still near enough to feel the warmth of Lando’s skin next to his.
The silence that followed was peaceful, an understanding settling between them. They both knew they’d have to face the consequences of tonight later, but for now, it didn’t matter.
Lando was out like a light in minutes, his head resting on Oscar’s chest, his breathing slow and steady. Oscar stayed awake a little longer, watching the city lights flicker outside the window. It felt strange, this closeness, but in a way that felt like the beginning of something new, something neither of them fully understood. And, for the moment, that was enough.
Soon, the alcohol and exhaustion claimed him too, and Oscar drifted off to sleep, the weight of the night sinking into both of them.
Lando woke up with a pounding headache, his entire body sluggish, his mouth dry and thick from the remnants of alcohol. The first thing he noticed was the warmth, the solid presence next to him. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His head felt like it was being crushed under the weight of a hundred tiny hammers, and as he moved, the room seemed to spin just a little too much.
When he tried to shift, he realized he was half on top of Oscar, his face buried into the crook of his neck, the smell of cologne and warmth mixing with the lingering scent of whiskey from the night before. Oscar's hands were resting on his waist, holding him close in a way that felt both comforting and strange. Lando's brain still wasn't working at full capacity, and the realization of how close they were made his heart skip a beat.
He shifted again, feeling the overwhelming nausea rise in his chest. He sat up quickly, the room spinning again, and then bolted out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom. His vision blurred, and his stomach twisted painfully as he rushed to the toilet, barely making it before he bent over and threw up.
Oscar, who had woken up at the sound of Lando’s frantic movement, was quick to follow him. He found Lando leaning over the toilet, barely able to catch his breath between heaves. Oscar immediately crouched down beside him, rubbing a hand across Lando’s back, his voice low and steady. “Easy, mate. Just let it out.”
Lando groaned, clutching the edge of the toilet, feeling miserable. “I’m never… drinking again…” he mumbled between coughs.
Oscar gave a small, knowing chuckle, though there was no humor in it. He stood up, grabbing a glass of water from the sink and handing it to Lando. “Here, drink this. It’ll help settle your stomach.”
Lando hesitated, looking up at the water like it was some distant salvation, but he took it anyway, sipping carefully. The cold liquid helped, but the pounding in his head was relentless. Oscar handed him the painkillers from the counter. “These will help too. Trust me.”
Lando took the pills, the cool water and the relief of the medicine starting to soothe him. He slowly straightened, though his stomach still churned uneasily. His head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, and he collapsed against the bathroom counter for support.
Oscar watched him quietly, an amused but concerned expression on his face. “So, what do you remember from last night?”
Lando blinked, trying to focus on the question as his thoughts struggled to align. “Uh, yeah. I remember up until we started talking about families… after that… nothing.”
He looked up at Oscar, feeling vulnerable and a little unsure. “Is that bad?”
Oscar’s expression flickered for a moment, and Lando saw a mix of emotions in his eyes—something he couldn’t quite place. But then Oscar just shrugged, a soft smile returning to his face. “Nah. All good,” he said, though the reassurance didn’t quite erase the subtle tension that had crept into his voice.
Lando was about to say something more, but before he could, Oscar added with a lighter tone, “Well, I did say I was going to teach you how to shoot a gun. So, get ready. We’re going to the range.”
Lando blinked, his mind still foggy from the hangover. “Wait, what?” he croaked, still groggy and a bit thrown off. “The range?”
Oscar gave him a teasing look, clearly amused by his confusion. “Yeah. Time to teach you how to handle yourself. You’ll thank me later. But first, get your act together. We’re leaving soon.”
Lando groaned, his head still pounding. “I think I need a nap first… maybe three days of napping.” He wobbled back toward the bed, but Oscar wasn’t about to let him off that easily.
“No rest for the wicked,” Oscar teased, watching Lando flop back onto the bed dramatically. “You can nap in the car if you need to, but we’re still going.”
Lando let his eyes close, trying to push through the hangover that was clinging to him like a fog. But even as he drifted off, he knew Oscar wasn’t going to let him get away with skipping out on the range.
The drive to the range was short, just a few miles outside of the city, but Lando still felt groggy. He had managed to pull himself together with Oscar’s help—thankfully, his headache had mostly faded after taking the painkillers and drinking the water Oscar gave him. He didn’t feel great, but he wasn’t in agony anymore, and he could at least keep his eyes open now.
Oscar drove in relative silence, the occasional glance toward Lando as if checking to make sure he wasn’t about to pass out again. The air was thick with the kind of unspoken energy that had hung between them since last night, a kind of tension that neither of them seemed able or willing to address.
When they finally pulled up to the shooting range, Lando couldn’t help but feel the weight of the place. It was quiet, almost eerily so, the kind of place where the world felt muffled, as if things could happen here that stayed behind closed doors.
Oscar parked the car and motioned for Lando to follow him. Lando followed him into the building, still feeling a bit detached from his surroundings but increasingly aware of the fact that this was real—he was about to learn how to shoot a gun. He had never done this before, but he trusted Oscar enough to know that he wouldn’t let anything go wrong.
As they stepped inside, a man behind the counter looked up immediately, his eyes lighting up when he saw Oscar. The recognition was instant.
“Oscar,” the man greeted with a wide grin, “didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”
Oscar gave a casual nod, a small, easy smile on his lips. “Figured it was time to let him learn something useful,” he said, glancing back at Lando for a second before turning back to the man. “This is Lando, Zak’s son.”
The guy behind the counter, Daniel, raised an eyebrow and looked at Lando with a sharp, calculating gaze before a wide smile spread across his face. “Zak’s son, huh?” he repeated with a laugh. “Well, lucky for you, no one’s here today, so the whole range is yours. Take any gun you want.”
Oscar gave a small shrug, clearly unbothered by the attention Lando was now receiving. “Thanks, Daniel,” he said, and with that, the man wandered off to some back room, leaving the two of them standing in the spacious, quiet range.
The silence hung in the air again, but this time it felt different. There was no escaping it now. Lando’s pulse quickened slightly, a familiar nervousness crawling up his spine as Oscar turned toward him.
“Ready?” Oscar asked, his voice low but full of intent. His eyes were dark, serious, like he was already mentally preparing to teach Lando everything he needed to know.
Lando swallowed hard, nodding despite the tightness in his chest. “Yeah, I think so.”
Oscar motioned toward the row of guns displayed on the counter, each one more intimidating than the last. “Pick whichever one you want,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, almost too soft. “We’ll start simple and work our way up.”
Lando’s hands were still trembling slightly, even as he tried to focus on the gun in his hands. The weight of it felt heavier than expected, and the buzzing of his mind only made it harder to stay calm. He glanced over at Oscar, who was standing a little too close, hovering just behind him, his presence a solid force that seemed to make everything feel amplified.
“Alright,” Oscar said, his voice low and steady, “let’s go over the basics first.” He moved closer, his chest brushing against Lando’s back as he reached over to adjust Lando’s grip on the gun, his fingers lightly pressing against Lando’s hand. Lando could feel the heat from Oscar’s body seeping through his clothes, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.
Oscar’s hands were strong but gentle, guiding Lando’s fingers around the gun’s grip. “First thing’s first—the safety,” Oscar explained, his voice calm and precise. “You always want to make sure the safety is on until you’re ready to shoot. You don’t want to accidentally fire.” He flipped the safety on the side of the gun with a quiet click. “See? This keeps the gun from firing unless you take it off.”
Lando nodded, his throat dry as he tried to focus on the simple instructions. But Oscar’s presence, the way his body pressed against Lando’s back, was making it hard to concentrate.
“The next thing,” Oscar continued, as if unaware of the way Lando’s pulse had quickened, “is the trigger. Don’t pull it too fast or too hard. You want to squeeze it steadily. If you jerk it, you’ll miss the shot, and trust me, that’s gonna be frustrating.”
Oscar’s breath was warm against Lando’s ear, his voice deep and smooth, and Lando felt his stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the gun. Oscar adjusted his stance slightly, now positioning Lando’s body more squarely to the target.
“Now, let’s talk recoil,” Oscar said, his tone taking on a more focused edge. “When you fire, the gun will push back against you. That’s recoil. It’s normal, but it can throw off your aim if you’re not prepared. So, you have to brace yourself—stand firm, keep your grip tight, and follow through with the shot. Don’t let the gun move you.”
Lando’s head was spinning, but he forced himself to focus on Oscar’s words, even though the way Oscar’s chest brushed against his back every time he shifted felt like too much. Oscar wasn’t even touching him directly anymore, but every movement, every breath felt like an electric charge between them.
“Ready to give it a try?” Oscar asked, his lips almost grazing Lando’s ear as he leaned in to assess Lando’s stance. His hands were still hovering near Lando’s, offering subtle adjustments as he stood so close it felt impossible to breathe without being aware of Oscar’s every movement.
Lando nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. I think so.”
Oscar gave a small smile, then stepped back just enough to give Lando some space. “Alright. Just take it slow.”
Lando took a deep breath and aimed at the target. He squeezed the trigger just as Oscar had said, but when the gun fired, it kicked back against his hand, and Lando flinched. The recoil hit him harder than he’d expected, and the sound of the shot ringing out was almost deafening in the stillness of the range.
Oscar was immediately there, standing behind him again. “Good try,” he said, his voice low and encouraging. “But remember, you’ve gotta lean into the shot. Don’t let it take you by surprise.”
Lando nodded, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. He was starting to feel a little more confident, but the nerves hadn’t gone away entirely. He fired again, this time managing to control the recoil a little better. He didn’t hit the target straight on, but the shot wasn’t too far off.
Oscar let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “That’s better,” he said. “Now let’s see how well you can handle the next one.”
Lando watched as Oscar picked up a similar gun, his movements fluid and confident. He loaded the magazine with practiced ease, his fingers moving with a precision that was almost hypnotic. Then he turned, facing the target with deadly focus.
Oscar aimed, and without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger. The gunshot rang out, and Lando’s eyes widened as he watched the bullet hit the target. Not just anywhere—right in the head. Clean, precise. Oscar fired again, the next bullet hitting the target in the exact same spot.
Lando blinked, his mouth suddenly dry as he took in the way Oscar handled the gun. It was effortless, like breathing, and the precision with which he shot the targets made Lando’s heart skip a beat. If that wasn’t the sexiest thing Lando had ever seen, he wasn’t sure what was.
Oscar turned to him with a grin. “See?” he said, his voice calm but edged with something else. “It’s all about control. Focus. And knowing what you’re doing.”
Lando swallowed hard, trying to shake off the heat rising in his chest. “Yeah… I get it,” he said, his voice hoarse. He couldn’t stop watching Oscar—how he moved, how he made something so dangerous look effortless and graceful. There was something about the way Oscar’s body tensed and released with each shot, the smooth way he manipulated the gun—it all made Lando’s mind spin.
Oscar stepped closer again, and Lando could feel the tension in the air thickening. “You’re next,” Oscar said, his tone shifting, more intense now. “Let’s see if you can do better than that last one.”
Lando’s hands were shaking as he picked up the gun again, but Oscar was there, just behind him, his chest pressing lightly against Lando’s back as he helped him adjust his grip. The closeness, the way Oscar’s breath brushed against Lando’s neck, sent a jolt of electricity through him.
Oscar’s hands moved to steady Lando’s arms once more. “Steady,” he whispered, his lips grazing Lando’s ear as he spoke. “You’ve got this. Just focus.”
Lando felt his heart race, the pulse of tension between them so thick it almost felt suffocating. He wasn’t sure how to control the heat in his body, how to ignore the way Oscar’s presence seemed to engulf him, but somehow, he managed to take a steady breath. He aimed at the target, focusing on the center.
And then, he fired.
The shot rang out, and this time, the bullet hit exactly where he wanted it. Right in the head of the target.
Oscar’s breath caught, and he pulled back slightly. “Not bad,” he said, his voice lower than usual, the tension in the air between them almost palpable. “You’re a fast learner.”
But Lando wasn’t listening anymore. His mind was consumed by the closeness, the weight of Oscar’s touch lingering on his skin, the way the air between them seemed to thrum with something neither of them could name.
It was getting harder to ignore the growing pull, the undeniable attraction. The way Oscar’s eyes held his, the way his hand had brushed against Lando’s, the heat between them was undeniable.
But for now, neither of them said anything more.
After an hour of shooting, Lando had gone from fumbling beginner to… well, “decent” was the most charitable term for it. He wasn’t going to win any sharp-shooting competitions, but at least he could hit the target more often than not. Oscar had been endlessly patient, correcting Lando’s grip, stance, and aim, but half the time, Lando was so distracted by the way Oscar’s voice sounded—or how his hand would occasionally brush against his shoulder or waist—that whatever Oscar said went straight out of his head.
He wasn’t sure what was worse: the frustration of missing the target or the very real possibility that he might completely ruin the moment by grabbing Oscar and kissing him right there in the middle of the range.
“Leave it to me,” Lando thought bitterly, “to fall in love with my bodyguard in a bloody shooting range.”
Oscar, of course, was oblivious. Or maybe he wasn’t—Lando couldn’t tell, and that made it all the more maddening.
Oscar stepped back after watching Lando fire another shot that landed just shy of the bullseye. “Alright,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice tinged with approval. “I think that’s enough for the day. You’re getting the hang of it.”
“Yeah?” Lando asked, lowering the gun and glancing at Oscar, hoping the heat in his cheeks wasn’t too obvious.
Oscar gave him a small smile, the kind that made Lando’s heart do a ridiculous flip. “Yeah. Not bad, Norris.”
“Not bad?” Lando repeated, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know that’s the best compliment I’ve gotten all week.”
Oscar chuckled, shaking his head as he started packing up their things. “We’ll see how good you are next time,” he said.
Next time. Lando didn’t know if he should be excited or terrified at the prospect.
The drive back to Lando’s apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the car engine and the occasional rustle of trees as they sped past. Lando’s headache from earlier was long gone, thanks to Oscar’s painkillers and water, but now his mind was running wild with thoughts he didn’t dare voice aloud.
The tension from the range still clung to him, every glance at Oscar sending his stomach into a tailspin. He stared out the window, willing himself to think about anything else.
Oscar’s phone had barely started ringing before the car’s Bluetooth system picked it up, the call flashing onto the screen. Lando glanced at it out of the corner of his eye: Zak Brown.
Oscar tapped the steering wheel to answer, his tone immediately shifting into something clipped and professional. “Yeah?”
Lando leaned back, pretending he wasn’t listening, though the car speakers betrayed every word.
“There’s a warehouse I need you to check out,” Zak said, his voice crackling slightly over the connection. “Shipment came in last night, but the manifest doesn’t add up. It’s probably nothing, but I need eyes on it. You free?”
Oscar sighed. “Yeah, I’ll handle it. Which one?”
“The one on the edge of Greenmoor. Sent you the address.”
“Got it,” Oscar replied. There was a pause before Zak added, “Be careful, Oscar. Don’t want anything going sideways.”
“I will. Thanks, Zak.”
The line went dead, and Oscar’s fingers tightened on the wheel for a split second before he let out a slow exhale.
Lando, of course, wasted no time. “What’s this about a warehouse?”
Oscar shot him a sharp look, his brow furrowing. “You were listening?”
“You’ve got the phone connected to the car,” Lando pointed out, gesturing at the screen. “Hard not to.”
Oscar groaned softly, muttering under his breath. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Lando pressed, turning slightly to face him. “What kind of warehouse is this, anyway? Why’s dad so worried?”
Oscar glanced at him briefly, then back at the road. “It’s routine,” he said flatly. “Probably just a mix-up with inventory.”
“But what if it’s not?” Lando asked, narrowing his eyes. “Dad wouldn’t tell you to ‘be careful’ over some missing boxes.”
Oscar sighed again, gripping the wheel tighter. “Look, it’s my job, alright? I’ll go, check it out, and be back before you know it. End of story.”
Lando frowned, his mind already racing. He knew Oscar was trying to downplay it, but he could hear the tension in his voice, the way his posture had shifted ever so slightly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just a casual errand.
“And you’re going alone?” Lando asked after a beat, his tone sharper than he intended.
Oscar let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.”
“Manage to get yourself killed, maybe,” Lando snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
Oscar glanced at him, surprised by the bite in his tone. “Lando—”
“No,” Lando interrupted, his voice firm. “If you think I’m just going to sit at home while you walk into who-knows-what, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Oscar shook his head, his exasperation clear. “You’re not coming, Lando. It’s not up for discussion.”
“Well, too bad,” Lando shot back. “Because I already decided I am.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened, and he let out a low, frustrated groan. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And you’re terrible at convincing me otherwise,” Lando quipped, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension.
Oscar muttered something under his breath, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.
Finally, Oscar exhaled, his voice low and resigned. “Fine. But you stay in the car. You don’t move unless I tell you to.”
Lando grinned, triumphant. “Deal.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, muttering, “I’m going to regret this,” as he turned off the main road, heading toward the address Zak had sent him.
Lando didn’t know what they were walking into, but one thing was certain: he wasn’t letting Oscar face it alone.
The warehouse was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that put every nerve in Lando’s body on edge. He, of course, ended up not in the car, but with Oscar inside, much to Oscar’s disapproval. From his hiding spot near a stack of rusted crates, he watched Oscar move with practiced precision, his gun drawn, every step deliberate. This was Oscar in his element, and it should’ve been reassuring. But the gnawing pit in Lando’s stomach refused to settle.
His dads warning echoed in his head: “Be careful.”
The shadows shifted. Lando’s heart skipped as a figure emerged from behind a stack of barrels, silent and predatory. And then another. And another. Oscar, for all his skill, hadn’t seen them yet.
Lando gripped the gun Oscar had reluctantly let him carry after endless arguments. It felt alien in his hands, heavier than it should have been. He hadn’t intended to use it—he wasn’t even supposed to be here.
Oscar turned just as the first attacker lunged. The fight erupted like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile silence. Lando ducked lower, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as chaos unfolded before him.
Oscar held his own at first, disarming one man and landing a devastating blow to another. But the odds were stacked against him. A heavy punch sent him reeling, and before he could recover, one of the attackers slammed him against the wall, pinning him by the throat.
Lando’s heart thundered in his chest. Oscar was fighting to break free, but the man’s grip didn’t falter. Another attacker approached, raising a crowbar, ready to deliver a finishing blow.
This was it.
Lando froze. His hands trembled around the gun, the memory of Oscar’s lessons flashing through his mind. Safety off. Finger on the trigger. Steady your aim. Don’t think about the recoil—just shoot.
But this wasn’t a paper target. This was a person .
He whispered to himself, voice shaking, “You can do this, Lando. Don’t miss.”
The crowbar swung back. Lando had seconds, maybe less. He forced his breathing to slow, his hands to stop shaking.
The shot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space.
The man with the crowbar crumpled, clutching his stomach where the bullet had hit. The recoil sent Lando stumbling back a step, and he nearly dropped the gun. His ears were ringing, his vision blurry, but all he could see was Oscar.
The attacker holding Oscar hesitated, his grip loosening in shock. That split second was all Oscar needed. With a sharp twist, he broke free, delivering a brutal punch that knocked the man out cold.
It was over as quickly as it began.
Lando didn’t move, his arms still outstretched, the gun trembling in his hands. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.
Oscar turned, his face bloody and bruised, but his eyes were locked on Lando. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Lando broke. He rushed forward, dropping the gun as he reached Oscar. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did I hit you? Please tell me I didn’t hit you—”
“Shut up, Lando,” Oscar groaned, his voice strained but softer than Lando had ever heard it. He swayed slightly, catching himself against a crate.
“I mean it, are you—”
“I said shut up ,” Oscar interrupted, though there was no venom in his words. If anything, there was a flicker of something else—relief? Pride? Lando couldn’t tell.
“You’re bleeding,” Lando stammered, his hands hovering uselessly as he scanned Oscar for injuries.
Oscar smirked, though it was weak. “Better me than you.” He leaned back, pressing a hand to his side where a dark stain was spreading across his shirt. “Nice shot, by the way. Not perfect, but... not bad.”
Lando blinked, his brain struggling to process the words. “Not bad? That’s all you’re going to say? I just saved your life!”
Oscar chuckled softly, wincing at the movement. “And I’m grateful . But you look like you’re about to pass out, so maybe sit down before you collapse.”
Lando ignored him, his adrenaline still spiking. “This is insane. I’m insane. Who the hell falls in love with their bodyguard and then shoots someone for them?”
Oscar froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”
Lando’s mouth opened, then closed, his brain catching up to his own words. “Nothing. I didn’t—shut up, you’re hurt, and we need to focus on that.”
For a moment, Oscar didn’t respond. His gaze locked onto Lando, sharp and intense, as if he could read the words Lando was so desperately trying to shove back down. The weight of it pinned Lando in place, his heart hammering so loudly he was sure Oscar could hear it.
“Maybe I misheard,” Oscar murmured, his voice measured, low.
Lando swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Oscar’s eyes. “Yeah. You misheard.”
Oscar didn’t look convinced. His gaze didn’t waver, cutting through the tension like a blade. Seconds passed, each one heavier than the last, until finally, Oscar gave a small nod. “Alright.”
But the way he lingered, his eyes tracing Lando’s face for just a second too long, told Lando that Oscar didn’t believe him for a second.
The drive back to Lando’s apartment was suffocating. The silence between them felt alive, crawling over Lando’s skin like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. Oscar’s breathing was labored, and every so often, Lando caught a faint groan of pain from the passenger seat. He didn’t dare look over. His grip on the wheel was too tight, knuckles white, his mind replaying the scene over and over again like a cruel loop he couldn’t stop.
The blood. The sound of the gunshot. The way the man dropped.
And Oscar—Oscar crumpled on the ground, so close to being gone.
By the time they reached the apartment, Lando was trembling. He parked the car haphazardly, barely remembering to grab the keys before he followed Oscar, who had dragged himself out, still bloody and beaten but walking as if he wasn’t.
The elevator ride up was worse. Every moment of silence screamed at him, the weight of what he’d done sinking deeper into his chest with every passing second. His hands felt dirty. His chest felt tight.
Oscar said nothing when they entered the apartment, immediately heading for the bathroom. Lando stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, his pulse hammering in his ears. Then, needing something—anything—to keep his mind occupied, he followed.
Oscar was at the sink, dabbing a cloth over a deep cut on his arm, wincing as the water hit the raw wound.
“I’ll help,” Lando blurted out. His voice cracked halfway through, and he hated how small it sounded.
Oscar glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
Before Oscar could argue, Lando was already reaching for the first aid kit under the sink, fumbling as he pulled it out. His hands shook as he unscrewed the cap of a disinfectant bottle, nearly dropping it in the process.
“Careful,” Oscar muttered, his tone softer now, almost like he regretted speaking at all.
“Sorry,” Lando mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He poured some of the disinfectant onto a cotton pad and gently pressed it to one of the cuts on Oscar’s arm.
Oscar hissed in pain, his jaw tightening as his muscles tensed under Lando’s touch.
“Sorry,” Lando said again, flinching as if he’d been the one hurt. His movements were clumsy, the cotton pad slipping from his grip before he managed to catch it again. The more he tried to focus, the harder it became. The trembling wouldn’t stop.
Oscar’s gaze shifted, catching the way Lando’s hands quivered. The older man’s face was pale, his eyes wide and unfocused, like he wasn’t entirely present.
“Hey,” Oscar said softly, but Lando didn’t look up.
“Sorry,” Lando muttered again, his voice cracking. He reached for another cotton pad but knocked a bottle of antiseptic off the counter. It clattered to the floor, and Lando froze, his shoulders trembling.
Oscar sighed, his patience thinning but not in the way it usually did. “Lando, stop.”
Lando ignored him, reaching down to pick up the bottle.
“Lando.”
The sharpness in Oscar’s voice made him freeze.
“Calm down,” Oscar said, his tone gentler now. He reached out, his hand steady as it landed on Lando’s wrist. “Look at me.”
Lando’s eyes slowly lifted to meet Oscar’s, and the moment their gazes locked, Oscar saw it. The fear. The guilt. The storm of emotions swirling behind those green eyes.
“It’s not easy,” Oscar said quietly, his voice low and steady. “The first kill… it never is.”
Lando flinched, his eyes glistening as his breath hitched. “I told my dad I’d never—” His voice broke, and he looked away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling.
“But you did it,” Oscar continued, his hand still on Lando’s wrist, grounding him. “And you saved my life.”
Lando shook his head, a tear slipping down his cheek despite his best efforts. “I didn’t want to—”
“I know,” Oscar interrupted gently. “But you did. And I’m still here because of you.”
Lando looked up at him, his breathing uneven. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. His heart was pounding, his chest so tight it hurt.
Oscar’s gaze softened, the usual sharpness of his eyes replaced with something warmer, something Lando didn’t know how to name. Slowly, Oscar leaned in, and before Lando could process what was happening, he felt the faintest press of lips against the corner of his mouth.
It wasn’t a kiss, not really. It was fleeting, tender, over before Lando could even react. But it was enough to send his mind reeling, his breath catching in his throat.
“I—what?” Lando stammered, his voice barely audible.
Oscar pulled back, his eyes meeting Lando’s for one long, agonizing moment. Then something shifted. The warmth in his gaze vanished, replaced by a cold, guarded look.
“Don’t,” Oscar said, his voice flat, almost detached.
Lando blinked, his heart sinking as he watched Oscar’s expression harden.
Without another word, Oscar turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Lando standing there, confused, hurting, and more lost than ever.
The bloodied washcloth hit the bottom of the washing machine with a dull thud. Lando stood frozen, staring at it as his chest heaved, the silence of the apartment pressing in on him. His hands were trembling uncontrollably, the adrenaline of the last few hours refusing to let him rest. His cheeks were damp with tears that he hadn’t even noticed falling, and the reflection staring back at him from the washing machine’s door was a pale, disheveled, hollow-eyed stranger. He hated what he saw.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, lost in the storm of his thoughts. Every breath felt like shards of glass scraping through his chest. Finally, as the pressure built to a breaking point, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stormed out of the bathroom, feet pounding against the floor, his heart hammering in his ears.
Oscar was in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch, shirt off, his torso smeared with dried blood where it had soaked through the makeshift bandage on his side. He was tense, his posture rigid as he reached for a water bottle on the coffee table. His face was blank, carefully composed in the way it always was when he was trying to shove everything down.
The second Lando stepped into the room, the air shifted.
“What the hell is your problem?” Lando snapped, his voice sharp and loud in the oppressive quiet.
Oscar froze, his hand still mid-reach, before slowly looking up to meet Lando’s gaze. He let out a slow, tired sigh, as though he’d been expecting this. “Lando—”
“No! Don’t you ‘Lando’ me,” Lando interrupted, stepping further into the room, his voice shaking. “What the fuck was that back there? Huh? You can’t just—just sit here like nothing happened.”
Oscar’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
Lando’s chest heaved as frustration and hurt spilled out of him. “I killed someone, Oscar. Do you get that? I killed someone for you. I pulled the trigger and ended a life. And you—” He gestured at Oscar, his voice cracking. “You don’t even care! You just shut down like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing.”
Oscar’s jaw tightened, his face hardening. “You shouldn’t have been there.”
“Oh, don’t you dare,” Lando hissed, stepping closer. “Don’t you dare make this about where I should or shouldn’t have been. I was there because I wanted to be. Because I care about you, you absolute idiot.”
Oscar’s head snapped up at that, his eyes flashing. “You shouldn’t care about me, Lando,” he bit out, his voice sharp. “I’m not good for you. I’m not—” He gestured at himself, his voice rising. “I’m not the kind of person you should be risking your life for.”
“That’s not your decision to make!” Lando shot back, stepping closer, his voice trembling with anger and something deeper. “You don’t get to decide who I care about or what risks I take.”
Oscar let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You think Zak would approve of this? Of us?” His voice was raw, jagged. “I’m a shit influence, Lando. A glorified weapon Zak uses when things get messy. And you—you’re his son . You’re supposed to be better than this. Better than me.”
“Stop it,” Lando said, his voice soft but firm, shaking with the effort of holding himself together. “Stop trying to make yourself out to be this—this villain who doesn’t care about anyone. You’re not. You’re the one who saved me when no one else did. The one who—” He swallowed hard, his voice thick with emotion. “The one who makes me feel like I’m not just Zak’s son.”
Oscar’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his expression unreadable. “And now you’ve killed because of me,” he said quietly, his voice low and full of something dangerous. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. You’re not supposed to be this, Lando. I saw the look in your eyes afterward. It’s going to break you. You’re not cut out for this life.”
“I didn’t do it for Dad!” Lando yelled, the words ripping out of him like a dam breaking. “I didn’t do it because I had to! I did it because I wanted to. Because I couldn’t stand there and watch you die.”
Oscar flinched at that, his eyes darkening, but Lando wasn’t done.
“Do you even know what that felt like?” Lando said, his voice cracking. “Watching you on the ground, bleeding, helpless? I’ve never been that scared in my life.” His breath hitched as the memory replayed in his head.
“And don’t even get me started on Katherine,” he added suddenly, his voice trembling with a new edge of anger. “Do you have any idea how much I wanted to kill someone that night? Seeing you with her, lipstick smudged, acting like it didn’t mean anything. Like I didn’t mean anything. It should’ve been me, Oscar.”
Oscar’s breath hitched, his eyes widening. “Lando…”
“I can’t concentrate when I’m around you,” Lando admitted, his voice softer now but no less charged with emotion. “You drive me insane. At the range, I could barely focus on what you were saying because all I could think about was you. And today, when I saw you about to die…” He paused, swallowing hard. “I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t think. I just did it. Because I couldn’t lose you.”
Oscar stared at him, his walls cracking, his gaze softening just slightly before the familiar wariness returned. “Lando…”
“No,” Lando whispered, stepping closer. His hands were trembling as he reached up, cupping Oscar’s face. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not leaving. So stop—just stop pushing me away.”
Oscar’s breath hitched, his eyes searching Lando’s, wide and frantic. “God, this is fucking insane. You’re insane. You’re driving me insane,” he rambled, his voice shaking, uneven. Before Lando could respond, Oscar surged forward, his lips crashing into Lando’s like a dam breaking under the weight of a thousand unsaid words.
The kiss was rough, desperate, teeth clashing as if they were trying to devour each other, their shared chaos finally exploding. Lando gasped against Oscar’s mouth, his fingers tangling in Oscar’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Oscar groaned, low and guttural, gripping Lando’s waist with bruising force, like he couldn’t stand even the smallest bit of space between them.
Lando’s back hit the wall with a thud, Oscar pinning him there, their bodies pressed so tightly together it felt like they were one. Lando tilted his head, giving Oscar more access, his lips parting as Oscar’s tongue swept inside, hot and demanding. It was messy, frenzied, wet, the sound of their gasps and the slick slide of their mouths filling the room.
“Fuck,” Lando breathed when Oscar finally broke away, only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down his jaw and neck. His teeth scraped over Lando’s skin, and Lando’s knees nearly buckled. “Oscar—”
“Shut up,” Oscar muttered, his voice dark and raw as his hands slid down to Lando’s thighs, gripping and lifting him. Lando instinctively wrapped his legs around Oscar’s waist, his breath hitching when their hips pressed together. “You’re driving me fucking crazy,” Oscar muttered against Lando’s skin, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below Lando’s ear and biting down.
Lando’s head fell back against the wall, a broken moan escaping him as he clung to Oscar, his fingers digging into his bare shoulders. “You think you’re the only one?” Lando gasped out, his voice shaky but edged with need. “You’ve been driving me insane for months. Do you know what it’s like to want someone so badly you can’t fucking think?”
Oscar groaned again, his grip tightening on Lando’s thighs as he pulled them away from the wall and started walking, his movements unsteady but purposeful. They barely made it through the hallway, bumping into the wall once, before Oscar kicked his bedroom door open and carried Lando inside.
The second they hit the bed, Lando was on his back, Oscar hovering over him, their mouths finding each other again in a frenzy of teeth and tongues. Lando’s hands roamed over Oscar’s chest, tracing the ridges of muscle and the jagged scar across his ribs. He wanted to touch every part of him, to map every inch of his skin and claim it as his own.
Oscar pulled back just enough to yank off the bandage around his side, wincing slightly, before diving back in. His hands slid up under Lando’s shirt, rough palms against soft skin, and Lando arched into his touch, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. “Off,” Oscar ordered, tugging impatiently at Lando’s shirt, and Lando scrambled to help, their movements clumsy in their haste.
The second Lando’s shirt was off, Oscar’s mouth was on him again, trailing kisses down his chest, teeth scraping over his collarbone and sucking a mark just below it. Lando’s fingers tugged at Oscar’s waistband, and Oscar hissed, his hands flying to Lando’s jeans and fumbling with the button.
Every touch, every kiss was a mix of desperation and obsession, a chaotic tangle of hands and mouths and gasps that felt like they might burn them alive. They weren’t gentle; there was no time for that. This was hunger, raw and unrelenting, their need for each other overwhelming any semblance of control.
Clothes were stripped and tossed aside, forgotten, until they were skin on skin, every nerve ending alive with electricity. Oscar’s hands gripped Lando’s hips, holding him in place as he kissed him again, slower this time but no less intense, their breaths mingling as they fell into each other completely.
“Lando,” Oscar murmured, his voice low and wrecked, his lips brushing against Lando’s as his hands slid lower. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Good,” Lando breathed, his voice breaking on a gasp. “Because you’re killing me, too.”
Oscar’s lips moved against Lando’s like he was drowning and Lando was his only source of air. His hands wandered lower, sliding down Lando’s bare thighs with purpose, the heat of his touch making Lando tremble beneath him. When his fingers hooked under the waistband of Lando’s briefs, Oscar paused, his chest heaving as he forced himself to slow down, his grip firm but hesitant.
His eyes met Lando’s, wide and dark with a storm of emotions—desire and just the faintest edge of vulnerability. “Tell me to stop,” Oscar said, his voice hoarse, rough, barely above a whisper. “And I will.”
Lando’s heart stuttered at the tenderness in Oscar’s voice, at the way he looked at him like he was something precious. His breath hitched, his cheeks flushed, but his voice was firm when he spoke. “Don’t you dare.”
Oscar let out a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down Lando’s spine, his restraint shattering like glass. “Fuck,” he muttered, his hands tightening on Lando’s hips as he slowly peeled the last barrier away, revealing every inch of him. He tossed the fabric aside, his gaze roaming over Lando’s body with unhidden hunger.
“You’re so beautiful,” Oscar said, his voice raw, like the words had been dragged from somewhere deep inside him. His hands skimmed down Lando’s sides, fingers tracing the curve of his waist, the sharp jut of his hipbones.
Lando’s face burned under Oscar’s gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. “You’re staring,” he mumbled, his voice shaky but laced with a shy smile.
“Of course I am,” Oscar murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss just above Lando’s navel. “How could I not?”
His lips moved lower, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses that made Lando gasp and squirm beneath him. Oscar’s hands gripped his thighs, holding him in place with a possessiveness that sent sparks skittering across Lando’s skin.
“Oscar,” Lando breathed, his fingers tangling in Oscar’s hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against his skin. “God, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Oscar interrupted, his voice firm but gentle, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Lando’s hip. “I’ve got you, baby. Let me take care of you.”
Lando let out a broken whimper, his head falling back against the pillow as Oscar continued his slow descent, his hands and mouth leaving no inch of Lando untouched. Every kiss, every caress felt like a brand, like Oscar was carving his name into Lando’s very soul.
When Oscar’s lips brushed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, Lando’s breath hitched, his hips bucking instinctively. “Oscar, please,” he begged, his voice barely more than a whisper, raw and wrecked. “I need you.”
Oscar paused, his hands tightening on Lando’s thighs as he looked up at him, his gaze heavy with promise. “You have me,” he said simply, his voice steady and unwavering. “You’ve always had me.”
The words hit Lando like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. He reached for Oscar, pulling him up until their lips met again in a kiss that was soft and searing, slow and devastating.
“I mean it,” Oscar murmured against Lando’s lips, his hands sliding up to cradle his face. “You have me. All of me.”
Lando’s eyes burned, his chest tight with something he couldn’t name, something that felt too big to fit inside him. “Fuck me, please.”
Oscars eyes clouded with lust “You don't know what you're asking for, I won't hold back,” he mumbled.
“M’not asking you to.” Lando whispered, chest rising and falling.
Oscar's gaze fell down to where Landos legs fell open.”Turn around,” he mumbled.
Lando raised an eyebrow a little confused but did as he was told, stretching on his stomach.
Lando’s breath hitched as Oscar’s strong hands gripped his hips, pulling him back slightly to position him just how he wanted. The warmth of Oscar’s breath ghosted over his skin, sending a shiver rippling down Lando’s spine.
“Jesus Christ,” Lando muttered, his head dropping into the crook of his arm as he felt Oscar’s hands spread him open, leaving him completely exposed.
Oscar didn’t respond, too consumed by the sight in front of him. His lips pressed against the curve of Lando’s ass, soft at first, reverent, like he was savoring the moment. Then his tongue darted out, teasing the sensitive skin around Lando’s entrance, and Lando jolted, his fingers twisting into the sheets.
“Oscar—fuck,” Lando gasped, his voice high and broken.
Oscar groaned, the sound vibrating against Lando’s skin as he buried his face between his cheeks, licking a long, slow stripe over his hole. His tongue pressed firmly, insistent, and Lando’s whole body shuddered, his hips instinctively rocking back against Oscar’s mouth.
“Stay still,” Oscar ordered, his voice muffled but commanding, one hand sliding up Lando’s back to press him down into the mattress.
Lando whined but obeyed, his thighs trembling as Oscar’s tongue worked him open, swirling and pressing in a rhythm that left him gasping for air. Every flick, every press of Oscar’s tongue sent sparks shooting through his body, leaving him on edge, his mind foggy with pleasure.
Oscar’s hands gripped his hips tightly, holding him in place as he devoured him, his tongue relentless, his movements deliberate. He alternated between firm, broad strokes and sharp, focused flicks, driving Lando to the brink of madness.
“Fuck, Oscar,” Lando moaned, his voice muffled by the pillow he had buried his face in. “You’re gonna kill me.”
Oscar chuckled darkly against him, the vibration making Lando cry out. “You taste so fucking good,” Oscar muttered, his voice raw, wrecked. “Could do this all day.”
Lando’s head spun, his chest heaving as Oscar’s tongue pressed deeper, his lips sealing around him and sucking gently. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, mingling with Lando’s broken moans and gasps.
When Oscar’s fingers joined the mix, tracing teasingly around his entrance, Lando nearly came undone, his back arching as he let out a choked sob. “Please, Oscar,” he begged, his voice trembling.
Oscar hummed against him, his fingers pressing in slowly alongside his tongue, stretching him, coaxing him open. “You’re taking it so well, baby. So fucking perfect.”
Lando whimpered, his body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, his mind hazy and lost in the overwhelming sensations Oscar was giving him.
Oscar didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working in perfect sync, pushing Lando further and further until he was teetering on the edge, his entire body taut with tension. “That’s it,” Oscar encouraged, his voice dark and low. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”
With a shuddering cry, Lando’s body gave in, his hips bucking against Oscar’s face as he came undone, pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. Oscar didn’t stop, his movements slowing but not ceasing, drawing out every last bit of Lando’s release until he was left trembling and boneless, his face buried in the sheets.
When Oscar finally pulled back, his lips shiny and his cheeks flushed, he pressed a kiss to the curve of Lando’s spine, his hands rubbing soothing circles into his hips. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with affection.
Lando turned his head just enough to glance back at him, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips curling into a lazy, satisfied smile. “More than okay,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “But if that’s how you start, I don’t think I’ll survive the rest.”
Oscar smirked, leaning down to nip at the sensitive skin of Lando’s shoulder. “Oh, we’re just getting started.”
“On your back, baby,” Oscar ordered, his voice low and commanding. Lando didn’t need to be told twice, shifting eagerly onto his back, his curls messy against the pillow as he looked up at Oscar with wide, expectant eyes.
Oscar leaned over to his nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. He held up the packet, but Lando just stared at it like it had personally offended him. Their eyes met, and Lando reached out, snatching the condom from Oscar’s hand and tossing it somewhere across the room without hesitation.
Oscar snorted in amusement, shaking his head. “Got it. Okay.”
Lando grinned, his face alight with mischief and something softer, deeper, as he spread his legs wide, putting himself on full display.
“Spread your legs for me,” Oscar ordered, though the command was hardly necessary. Lando was already there, pliant and eager, his body open and waiting.
The first touch was a single slick finger pressing inside him, careful but insistent. Lando gasped, his hips twitching instinctively, the stretch stealing his breath. “Relax, baby,” Oscar murmured, his free hand stroking soothing circles on Lando’s thigh as he worked his finger deeper. “I’ve got you.”
Lando nodded, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he forced himself to relax. The discomfort was brief, quickly replaced by a slow-building heat as Oscar’s finger began to move, curling just enough to make Lando’s breath hitch.
“Fuck,” Lando moaned, his hands fisting the sheets as Oscar added a second finger, scissoring them gently but deliberately. The stretch was more intense now, a delicious burn that made Lando’s back arch off the bed.
“That’s it,” Oscar murmured, his voice thick with praise. “Taking me so well. You’re fucking perfect for me.”
Lando’s cheeks flushed at the words, his lips parting as his moans grew louder, his body writhing under Oscar’s careful touch. “Oscar,” he gasped, his voice trembling with need. “I need you. Please. Now.”
Oscar groaned, his control slipping as he pulled his fingers free, his gaze fixed on Lando’s flushed, desperate expression. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low but steady as he reached for the lube again, slicking himself up with trembling hands.
Lando’s legs wrapped around Oscar’s waist, pulling him closer as he nodded emphatically. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he said, his voice soft but resolute, his eyes blazing with need.
Oscar lined himself up, pausing just long enough to meet Lando’s gaze. When Lando gave a small nod, Oscar pressed forward, the head of his cock breaching him slowly, carefully.
The stretch was intense, a searing pressure that made Lando gasp, his nails digging into Oscar’s shoulders. “Jesus Christ,” Oscar groaned, his jaw tight as he pushed in deeper, his body trembling from the effort of holding back. “You feel...fuck, Lando, you feel incredible.”
Lando’s breath hitched, his body taut as he adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. “Just—give me a second,” he whispered, his voice shaky but steady as he breathed through it.
Oscar nodded, pressing a soft kiss to Lando’s forehead as he stilled, his hands caressing Lando’s thighs in soothing strokes. “Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
After a moment, Lando exhaled deeply, his body relaxing as he shifted his hips experimentally. The discomfort faded, replaced by a sharp, electrifying pleasure that made his toes curl. “Move, Oscar. Please.”
Oscar groaned, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm that was deep and deliberate, every movement dragging a broken gasp from Lando’s lips.
It didn’t take long for the pace to pick up, the tension between them too much to hold back. Oscar’s hips snapped forward, his thrusts powerful and precise, the sound of their bodies meeting echoing in the room.
Lando clung to him, his nails raking down Oscar’s back as he met each thrust with equal fervor, his cries growing louder with every movement. “Fuck, Oscar—”
“You’re so tight,” Oscar muttered, his voice rough and wrecked as he buried himself deeper, his forehead pressed against Lando’s. “So fucking perfect for me. You’re gonna ruin me.”
“Ohmygod,” Lando gasped, his legs tightening around Oscar’s waist as his body arched off the bed. “You’ve already ruined me.”
Oscar’s hand slipped between their bodies, wrapping around Lando’s cock and stroking him in time with his thrusts. “Come for me,” he urged, his voice soft but commanding. “I want to feel you, baby.”
Lando’s release hit him like a tidal wave, his back arching as he cried out Oscar’s name, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm.
The sight of Lando falling apart beneath him was Oscar’s undoing. With a few more hard, deep thrusts, he buried himself inside Lando one last time, his release tearing through him as he groaned against Lando’s neck, his body shuddering with the intensity of it.
They stayed like that for a moment, their breaths ragged and bodies tangled together, the air around them heavy with the scent of sex and the sound of their pounding hearts.
Finally, Oscar pulled back slightly, his hands gentle as he brushed Lando’s damp curls away from his face. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern and affection.
Lando smiled, lazy and content, his eyes half-lidded as he reached up to cup Oscar’s face. “More than okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “That was...Jesus, Oscar. That was everything.”
Oscar grinned, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Lando’s lips. “You’re everything,” he said, his voice low but certain.
"I love you," Lando mumbled, biting his lip, his voice trembling slightly.
Oscar froze for a moment, his expression softening as his eyes searched Lando’s face. Then he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, shaky breath like he was trying to steady himself.
"Ever since my dad passed away," Oscar began quietly, his voice raw with emotion, "I’ve felt like nobody could ever truly love me. I told myself that I couldn’t love anyone either, that I didn’t deserve it." He paused, his hand brushing gently against Lando’s cheek. "But you… you deserve it, Lando. You deserve all the love in the world. And if it’s me you choose to give it to you, then I couldn’t be happier." His lips curved into a soft, genuine smile. "I love you, Lando."
Lando’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, his chest tightening as the weight of Oscar’s words settled over him. He grinned through the watery haze, his hands reaching up to pull Oscar closer. Without a word, he pressed their lips together in a tender, lingering kiss, his fingers tangling in Oscar’s hair as he poured every bit of his love into that one moment.
Oscar melted into him, letting Lando guide him down until their bodies were flush against each other again. The kiss was slow, unhurried, a stark contrast to the frenzy from earlier. It was full of promise, a silent exchange of emotions too big for words.
When they finally broke apart, Lando rested his forehead against Oscar’s, his smile soft and full of affection. "You’re stuck with me now," he whispered, his voice light but filled with meaning.
Oscar chuckled, brushing his thumb across Lando’s cheek. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."
And in that moment, tangled in each other’s arms, the world beyond them didn’t matter. All that mattered was this—being together, loving each other, and knowing they were enough.
Zak sat behind his desk, arms crossed, staring at Lando and Oscar like they were contestants on a very confusing reality show. He tapped his pen against the desk, the silence in the room stretching uncomfortably long before he finally spoke.
“So…” Zak began, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pointed the pen between them, “you two… are… dating?”
Oscar shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap like he was trying to disappear into the chair. Meanwhile, Lando sat as relaxed as ever, completely unfazed.
“Yes, dad, we are,” Lando answered confidently, his tone bordering on smug.
Zak blinked. “And… you… shot someone?”
“Yep,” Lando replied, popping the p for good measure.
“Saving Oscar’s life,” Zak added, his voice rising in disbelief.
“Uhuh.”
Zak leaned forward, setting his pen down with a little more force than necessary. “Hang on a second. What the hell? First of all, you swore to me you would never kill anyone! You told me— told me —that you wanted nothing to do with my job. Said it was ‘too messy’ and ‘disgusting’ and ‘you won’t ever kill anyone.’ And now, all it takes is a sexy bodyguard to show up, and suddenly you wanna be John Wick?! What the hell, Lando?”
Oscar cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “Uh, well—”
“Hold on, Oscar, I’m not done,” Zak interrupted, holding up a hand. He turned back to Lando, his eyebrows practically meeting his hairline. “And now you’re telling me you want Oscar to train you so you can work with him? ”
“Yep,” Lando replied again, completely unbothered.
Zak threw his hands up, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Oscar, I trusted you to keep him safe, not turn him into a mini me with bad judgment!”
Oscar looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “Zak, with all due respect, Lando’s… persuasive.”
“Persuasive? That’s what you’re going with?” Zak asked incredulously, throwing a pointed look at Lando, who was now stretching his legs out like he was on a beach holiday. “He’s a pain in my ass, is what he is.”
“Hey, you approve or not?” Lando cut in, crossing his arms. “Because honestly, I don’t really care either way. I’m doing this whether you like it or not.”
Zak’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a few seconds before he groaned, running a hand down his face. “Are you kidding me? Oscar, you got my son to actually agree to work with me. Do you realize how big of a miracle that is? I could’ve never convinced him to do this on my own. Of course I approve.”
Lando perked up at that, a victorious grin spreading across his face.
“But,” Zak continued, pointing a finger at Oscar, “let me make one thing very clear. I trusted you with Lando’s life—not his heart. You break it, and I swear I’ll make sure no security firm will ever hire you again. Got it?”
“Loud and clear,” Oscar replied, he didn’t look bothered by the threat at all.
Zak let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. My son goes from swearing off my job to signing up for the family business because of a pretty face. I can’t decide if I’m mad or impressed.”
“Impressed,” Lando said smugly.
Zak shot him a look but didn’t argue. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about needing a stronger drink.
Just as Zak seemed to have composed himself, Oscar shifted in his seat and cleared his throat again. “Uh, Zak… there’s, um, one more thing.”
Zak froze, his hand still on his face. “What now? ”
“Technically… you’ll have four coworkers who are dating,” Oscar said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
Zak’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘four’? What the hell does that mean?”
Lando, who had been waiting for this moment, leaned forward, a gleam of mischief in his eye. “Oh, yeah, so… on our way to your office, we ran into Max and Charles.”
Zak frowned. “Okay… and?”
“And they were… busy,” Lando said, dragging out the last word dramatically.
Zak blinked. “Busy? Busy with what?”
Lando tilted his head. “Oh, you know… just some activities. ”
Zak’s frown deepened. “What kind of activities?”
Oscar cleared his throat, rolling his eyes ”the tongue sucking ones.”
Zak’s face went blank for a moment as the realization hit him. Then, all at once, his eyebrows shot up, and his voice cracked. “You’re telling me Max and Charles were hooking up ? In the office?! On my time?! my time?! ”
Lando shrugged. “More like in the hallway, but yeah.”
Zak groaned, leaning back in his chair and throwing his arms in the air. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! First my son, now my employees? What is this, a dating service? A hookup app? Do I need to start handing out rules about where and when people can use their tongues?!”
“Honestly, dad, I think it’s kind of sweet,” Lando said, smirking. “They were really going for it. True love and all that.”
Zak glared at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“A little bit,” Lando admitted.
“Enough. Just get out. Both of you. And tell Max and Charles that if I catch them so much as holding hands on the premises, I’m assigning them to opposite ends of the earth!”
As Lando and Oscar left the office, Lando leaned over to whisper, “That went well, don’t you think?”
Oscar groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Behind them, Zak’s muffled voice could still be heard ranting. “A covert operation, they said. Professionalism, they said. And now it’s a bloody dating mafia!