People Watching

by Vroomies_814

Summary:

Lando's power makes him able to see couple's compatibility, or who a person would be compatible with.

Oscar's lets him heal people with physical touch.

They both hate their powers.

Oh, and they're roommates!

Chapter 1: • Lando

“Congrats you two. Everything aligns perfectly,” he tells the couple in front of him, his plastered-on smile giving them both matching genuine ones. 

Lando fucking hates his job. The second someone turns thirteen, they get this sort of power that they can use for whatever they want. He swears that his is the most useless of them all. Being able to read people's compatibility doesn't leave you with too many job options. 

People seek him out from just about anywhere, and these people's accents made it clear that they were no different. Turns out, as useless as it is, Lando's ultimate match making skills were really rare. Which other people don't find useless. 

The boyfriend leans over to kiss his girlfriend's cheek. They look happy. Compatibility doesn't always equal happiness. He had to find that out the wrong way. 

Once, he had to wriggle away from a lawsuit from a girl upset that her fiancé cheated on her. It's hardly his fault that it happened. Sure, they were compatible with each other, but that didn't automatically stop him from just being a dick. 

A ninety something percent was enough to ensure that a couple was likely to stay with each other for life. Granted that neither of them were dicks, that was. 

Maybe one of these two will end up cheating on the other. Maybe both. He really has no shits to give. 

Simply, he pushes the card machine forward. What really matters is that he gets paid. Making his day slightly better, the boyfriend opts to give him a 25% tip. An extra two and a half quid in the pocket for him. He wonders what he'll get with it. A monster energy, probably. 

“Hope you guys have a lovely day!” He really couldn't care less. 

The girl smiles at him and sweetly repeats, “thank you, you too.” She stands up to leave and takes her boyfriend's hand in her own as she does. 

Frustratingly, they don't close the door behind them, sending an all too familiar annoying draft towards him. Fucking hell. It's not their fault, since they couldn't possibly know it doesn't shut on its own, but he still has to get up. 

Checking the time on his phone, he justifies that it's late enough to close up, so he flips the sign and shuts the door. Oscar would be getting home soon, and he wants to prove that he can actually cook, even if it's something small. 

Oscar's his roommate, who he met through a mutual friend, and they've been living together for almost two years. It's a nice arrangement, really. They base their lives around each other, and sharing a flat with him is a lot easier than he ever allowed himself to think it would be. 

If he actually liked doing his job, then he'd definitely be able to afford living alone. Instead, he valued sleeping in until ten every morning and spending any time he could with Oscar when he didn't have a shift. After all this time, he realistically does have enough money to get a place of his own, but for some reason, the appeal just isn't there. 

There's not a lot in the cupboards, just the basics. Those are the only things he knows how to use, anyway. He grabs a bag of pasta and a jar of tomato sauce and gets to work. 

As per usual, he's overestimated himself, because the two plates of pasta in front of him don't look anywhere near as appetising as they do when Oscar makes them. But before he can throw it all out and start fresh - or just order something in - he hears Oscar coming up the stairs. 

Immediately, he stops what he was doing (and thinking entirely) and opens the door and his arms. “Osc!”

A little sadly, Oscar just shakes his head, so he drops his arms and steps out of the way. Oscar's power is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing to others, because he can heal people, but a curse to himself because the only way he can do it is through physical touch. 

Quite often, he comes home overstimulated, and today just must be one of those days.

In a strange, selfish way, Lando can't help but love Oscar's power, since whenever he touches him in any way, any headache or other pain he'd have would just disappear. Poof. Gone with something as simple as a high five. 

“Long day at the clinic?” he asks, watching Oscar make his way over to the kitchen. 

A little while ago, he worked at the hospital. He left when a woman started asking him to have sex with her to help with her pains, and when he reported it, his boss told him to, well, do it. Lando finds the whole situation disgusting and it didn't even happen to him. 

As far as he's aware, the more contact someone has with Oscar, the more pain relief they get. So the woman kind of had a point, as creepy as it was. Oscar's boss really didn't though. Obviously. And the month he spent unemployed was one of the best in Lando's life. 

“I guess you could say that,” Oscar grumbles, breaking through Lando's reminiscing with an accent as Australian as ever. By now, he knows better than to ask what happened, so he just smiles sympathetically and nods. “You made dinner.”

He scuttles across into the kitchen, and nods, visibly proud of himself despite his earlier disappointment. “I did indeed.” Oscar doesn't look disgusted by the food. 

In fact, he's so not disgusted that he grabs a fork each and sits down, waiting for Lando to do the same. When he does, Oscar stabs a couple of pieces and shovels them into his mouth. It must not taste disgusting because he hums in approval. 

Not trusting his own cooking, but trusting Oscar's opinion enough, he tries some, and it's safe to say it's far from the best meal he's ever had. Very far from it. He places the fork down on top of the plate and pushes it away, like he's a little kid. 

Oscar watches him the whole time. “You've always been picky, huh?” he teases. But he ends up eating all of his own plate, then most of Lando's, and whips something up for him that's completely picky eater friendly. 

That, he does trust. If Oscar made it, he already knows it’s safe. In between bites, he asks, “can I read your match yet? I might finally be able to find you someone.”

The whole time they've been living together, Oscar has never come home unreasonably late, or had someone stay over. Lando doesn't know if he's really sneaky, or genuinely hasn't had sex in almost two years. He doesn't think he'd be able to survive the latter, so he assumes he's sneaky. 

“I'm good, but thanks.” One day. 

“Mhm.” When he finishes eating, he heads over to the living room and throws himself on to the couch, putting on the new episode of Taskmaster, without even bothering to check. 

Eventually, Oscar joins him, and points to his legs. “Lift.”

Lando does, and Oscar sits down next to him, placing Lando's legs over his lap, so they were right where they were before, only just a little more elevated. Instantly, the touch makes the slight kink in his shoulder vanish, and his previously awful headache lighten. Even his mood is significantly better. 

Once the episode had finished, Oscar puts on some sports channel to watch some cricket, and Lando can't help but fall asleep. It was just the feeling of gentle touches and being home. 

When he wakes up, his shoes are off, his head's propped up by a pillow from Oscar's bed and a blanket that lives on Oscar's chair is draped over him. 

Oh, Osc. 

---

Rubbing his eyes, he realises that he should probably get ready for work soon. The best part of working freelance from home was that he gets to decide his own hours, but he unfortunately does still need to work some. In order to survive, that is. 

In an ideal world, he'd stay wrapped up in this blanket forever on this couch, warm and safe. In this stupid world, he has to get up and go make himself breakfast. 

Reluctantly, he makes his way into the kitchen, only to see a box of Rice Krispies Multigrain Shapes already set out - his favorite, even if it is rather childish, - a bowl with a spoon in it, and a note. ‘Have an early shift, hope you enjoyed your sleep. -Osc.’

He did, actually, thanks, Osc. As much as he'd love to be still napping, he makes himself his cereal and eats it alone, missing his roommate's presence much more than he knows he should. 

Oscar must've put his phone on charge for him, because it's on the counter top, inches away from the cables and fully juiced up. Sure, the pillow did wonders for his neck, but nothing that Oscar did for him compares to this. 

He holds his phone to his chest for a brief moment, then he shoots Oscar a quick ‘enjoy your shift x’ text. Lando watches and waits for the grey ticks to turn blue, and smiles at the thumbs up Oscar sends back.

After he had gotten ready, he goes downstairs, flips the sign from closed to open, and slips into some trainers. Usually it takes a while for someone to come in in the mornings, so he throws himself onto the office chair, spinning himself around a couple times. 

Eventually, Max sauntered in, opening the door without even touching it. A little party trick, if you will. It's like he wants Lando to suffer. Not everyone can be telekinetic. 

“Before you take one step further, what's in it for me?” Lando asks teasingly, already well-aware that this'll be stupid. Max's wallet levitates towards him. “Yes, you have telekinesis, I know. No need to flex.”

“Money. That's what's in it for you, dumbass.”

“Oh!” Lando clutches the wallet and takes out a tenner. When Max raises his eyebrows at him, he explains, “deposit money.”

Max makes his way over to him and sits down on one of the two plastic chairs on the other side of his desk. They were cheap, and the sound they make supports that. “This is about Charles.”

“Of course it is,” Lando deadpans. This is far from the first time he's had to deal with a Lestappen situation, and it probably won't be the last either. “What is it this time?” He fakes interest while flapping the note around. 

“He literally doesn't get any of my hints. It's like this man is absolutely oblivious.” He's clearly frustrated, but there's a fond look in his eyes as well. Sap. “I got him flowers and everything. Red roses and some blue.. Thingies.”

“Ah, yes. Thingies.”

“Shut up, this is important.” When is it ever? “You're a matchmaker or whatever.” Close enough. “Can you just tell me if this is hopeless or not?”

He gets what Max is hoping to do, but. “I can't compare your compatibility to his if I don't read his, mate.”

The disappointment is obvious just by the look on his face. “Just do something - anything - to help me. Please?” 

Well, who was he to stop love? “Fine. I'll see what I can do.”

As soon as Max leaves, he gets to planning. Charles works at the clinic with Oscar, but he's not entirely sure what his power is. He'll have to ask Oscar that, and somehow find a way to talk to Charles enough to get a proper reading. 

It's not every day that he goes out of his way to help someone, so Max better be fucking grateful if - and when - he pulls this shit off. He also better give him a fat wad of cash. Enough for him to be able to convince Oscar to let them get a cat. He wants to name them Samsung, even though neither of them so much as own a Samsung device. 

The door opens again, and it's in a regular way that involves it being pushed open with hands. Thinking about the potential cat got him in a nice mood, so he greets, “welcome to Lando's Magical Matchmaking Services! How can I help you today?”

There's two girls that stand in the doorway, and they look eighteen, give or take a year. One of them has her hair in a mullet that doesn't look too different to Lando's own. The other's hair is long with chunky blonde highlights. 

Mullet Girl looks shy, but asks, “uhm, do you do queer couples?”

Lando grins and beckons for them to sit. “I'm ashamed that you even have to ask that. I love lesbians!” They look at each other, confused, and rightfully a little concerned. Lando clears his throat. “I'm gay.”

Blonde Girl finally eases up and mouths a silent “oh.” 

“So, can we get a reading?” Mullet Girls asks. “Not that I doubt us or anything.” To prove her point she leans over to kiss her girlfriend's cheek. 

Stupidly, Lando feels a sharp pang of jealousy. Part of the reason why he hates doing this so much is that he sees couples all the damn time. The other part is the disappointment. Some couples are happy with anything above 50%. Why does it matter anyway? Others only settle for full marks, which he is yet to find. 

He's hoping these two are the former. “Congratulations, you two have seventy-eight percent compatibility.” Highlights looks unsure but Ms. Mullet grabs her hand and squeezes. Once. Twice. Thrice. Lando sighs. “That’s definitely not bad, trust me. And you guys make a very cute couple.”

They both smile politely and he gently nudges the card machine in their direction. Blondie pays and stands up to leave. The other girl does too, but her attention falls on a framed picture on his desk. 

One of him and Oscar, that his mum took of them last Christmas. Oscar's arm is around his waist in a way that's near possessive, but they both have bright smiles on their faces and ugly Christmas jumpers and bobbles hats on. 

“Is that your husband?” she asks curiously. 

“Husband?” Lando repeats, laughing a little at the thought. “Nah, I'm far too young to be married.” Should he be offended that she thought..? Whatever. 

She nods. “Boyfriend then?”

Wow, she's really pushing this, huh? Sure, they're hugging in the photo, and she doesn't know them personally or anything. But. “He's just Oscar.” Lando's not entirely sure why he's smiling so much, when it is in fact, just Oscar. 

Seemingly, that's enough of an answer, as she goes to join her partner and they leave. 

Feeling a little weirded out, he picks the photo and studies it for a moment. Although he really wishes he didn't, he can understand why she assumed that they were dating. He blames it on his mum's camera skills. She probably meant for it to look like that. 

Another couple will probably come in sooner or later, but while he waits, he drums his fingers on the desk. His nails are all jagged from being bitten so often, and the skin behind them all is peeling. Oscar always tells him he needs to stop. 

Stupid Oscar and his stupid perfect nails. 

He's got much better things to be thinking about. Like Max and his little issue (read: Charles Marc Herve Leclerc. (Lando hates himself for having to listen to Max's rant so often that he knows some random dude's full name.)) 

Since Max was willing, he could do a reading just on him, which would tell Lando some things, and he could piece together a percentage using what he already knows about Charles. But it still wouldn't be anywhere near as effective as being able to actually use his magic on Charles. 

Fuckity fuck fuck. If only his powers were actually useful and worked on photos or something. Wait. He looks at the framed picture of him and Oscar and considers trying. 

In the end, he decides against it. Technically, he could read Oscar without his permission. But morally? He just couldn't do it. Especially not to him. Besides, their compatibility would probably be, like, zero or something. Definitely below twenty. Oscar's quiet, and Lando's loud. It just.. wouldn't work. 

Thankfully interrupting his spiral, another couple comes in. The guy practically towers over her, and must be at least a foot taller. Lando reckons that'd make for some really awkward snogging, so he would give their physical compatibility a solid seven. Too bad that's not what he can tell. 

Turns out, their real compatibility is 82%, which they seem surprised - yet pleased - by. Tall Dude tips him a whopping hundred percent, so Lando makes sure to thank him profusely. Happy customers equals a happy bank account. Cha-ching, baby! 

While he waits for the next people, he scoots his chair around the room, trying to go as fast as he can. How productive. Eventually, more people do come, and he serves them. Then more. And more. 

Finally, comes the time during the day where everyone is too busy getting lunch to come in. Not even bothering to change the sign, he takes the opportunity to head upstairs to go shower. 

Notes:

Updates should hopefully be pretty frequent. Lemme know what you think :))

Fix title from People Watching by Conan Gray.

Chapter 2: • Oscar

Holding a plastic bag of takeout in his hand, and another between his teeth, Oscar lets himself into the building. The sign was set as open, but there was no Lando in sight. Shame. He really loves the Chinese, and Oscar knows he especially loves it when it's so hot it burns his mouth. 

Regardless, he heads upstairs and places the bags down on the kitchen counter. There's the faint sound of water running coming from the bathroom. Well, that explains it. 

“Landers,” he calls out, loud enough to be heard from the shower. “I've got some Chinese for when you're done.” 

Almost instantly, the water is shut off, and he can hear Lando shuffling about. There's a bit of shuffling and then Lando emerges, wearing nothing except a towel tied loosely around his waist and the usual bright Lando Norris grin. 

“Did you get my-”

“-chicken and sweetcorn soup?” Oscar finishes for him, nods and takes the container out of the bag, presenting it as if it was something life changing. 

Clearly, to Lando, it is, as he rushes over, keeping one hand firmly on the towel. That's probably a good idea. Up close, Lando looks unfairly gorgeous. Faint lines of abs sparkling where the light hits the droplets of water. Not that he's looking. 

But what he does question is how on earth he's managed to maintain those abs when the only exercise he does is frantically running up and down the stairs. 

What matters though, is that they're there, and, now forever ingrained into his memory, whether he wants them there or not. He's not entirely sure which. 

A small droplet trinkles down from his chest and onto the floor, making a tiny noise as it hits the ground, taking the room out of silence and Oscar out of his own head. 

He clears his throat. “You gonna get dressed or..?”

Open-mouthed, Lando just stares at him for a moment. Then, he snaps out of it. “Right, yeah. Yes. Will do.” He points towards the door of his bedroom shortly before disappearing into it.

Oscar's not sure if Lando noticed his blatant staring, but he's grateful that's he not been called out for it. In all honesty, he wouldn't have had the first clue on a single reasonable explanation for it. Except, maybe, just that it was pretty. 

He was just admiring a nice view, and almost anyone would do the same. 

It's not long before he comes back out, wearing a pair of shorts and one of Oscar's hoodies. On Lando, it's so massive that it goes half way down his thighs, covering most of his shorts. For some inexplicable reason, he looks even prettier. 

Instead of saying anything, he just raises an eyebrow. 

Smiling, Lando shrugs. “You barely ever wear any hoodies, and this one is pretty. And comfy.”

“Got it,” Oscar replies calmly, plopping himself down on the couch. When Lando joins him, he wraps his arm around his shoulders. By now, that's just second nature. Muscle memory. 

In a similar way, Lando curls up to him, still slurping down his soup. It makes it near impossible to move, but Oscar manages, grabbing his little box and plastic spork. They both eat in silence, watching the cricket that was on the TV. 

Eventually, Lando speaks up. “Oh, Oscar, I need you to do me a favor.” Well, that's never a good thing. 

“What's up?” Please don't be bad. Please don't be bad. Please don't be-

“I need you to talk to someone for me.” Oh, it's not bad. “You work with Charles. Don't you?” As far as Oscar was aware, those two didn't even know each other, so it was a strange question. 

“I do. Why?” He shovels another mouthful of rice into his mouth, still not tearing his eyes away from the man beside him. 

Lando sighs, considering how to properly word his thoughts. A different approach to his usual blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind. “So I have this.. Friend, and he's got quite the interest in Charles.”

Oscar interrupts, “you mean Max?”

“I didn't know you knew that.” Lando places his hand over his heart and glares at him, as if he held back key information. Oscar knows that Lando hates it when he's left out of the loop. In his defense, he thought it was just common knowledge, and it kinda just slipped his mind. “Well, I knew that Max fancied him, obviously, but not that it was such a big deal that you of all people would know. So. Tell me more. My thing can wait.”

“If you say so..” He thinks back. “He comes in - even more than you do - always bringing Charles random stuff. Flowers. Food. You name it.”

Lando's listening intently. “Uh huh.”

“That's kind of it, really.” He pauses for a moment. “But you can see it in his eyes. You know?”

“Bull,” Lando says with a laugh. “You can't tell someone's in love just by looking at their eyes, Osc. I should know, I'm the professional.”

“I dunno, mate. There's something there.” He looks directly into Lando's eyes, as if he's trying to find something there. “And there's this thing where if you look at someone you like, your pupils go huge.”

Suspiciously, Lando turns away. “Oh, really?” he asks, but it was half-hearted.

“Yep.”

“Nerd,” he insults, sticking his tongue out. 

Oscar huffs, folding his arms. “Wanker.”

“Australian.”

“Brit.”

“Weirdo.”

“..Nerd.”

Oscar laughs even harder than he was already. “I'm pretty sure you've said that one already.”

Lando's no better, laughing so hard that his face has gone bright red, and his pupils are incredibly dilated. Oscar doesn't notice. “Yeah, well, shut up.” Once he's calmed down, Lando slurps down another spoonful of his soup. “Osc, it's gone cold,” he whines.

“Just zap it in the microwave.”

“Great idea.” He holds his bowl out, grinning brightly, like he always does.

Groaning, Oscar takes the bowl and heads to the kitchen. “You're absolutely useless, I swear.”

Still smiling, Lando just shrugs, clearly not offended in the slightest. “You love me for it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

 

---

 

Quite often, he finds himself questioning why he does so much for Lando. Most of the time, he doesn't get anything in return - not that he particularly minds. Lando's just Lando. He lounges around for most of the day, barely ever bothers to work, and seems to be completely incapable of household chores. 

Working at a clinic, he's earning more than enough money to be living by himself in a small house. So why on earth has he been living with the same nincompoop of a guy for almost two years? 

Lord knows. 

Staying for another year or so sounds so, so stupid, but leaving would feel wrong. So wrong that it outweighs any benefits. Once again, he questions himself on why, but just doesn't find any answers. 

Back in the living room, Lando has managed to completely sprawl himself out over the couch in a way that shouldn't be physically possible. 

Like that, he looks adorable. As the microwave dings, he comes to a rather uncomfortable understanding of why he stays. Every time Lando asks if he wants a reading, he adamantly turns it down. He'd never say anything, but it was because he was scared. 

Scared of finding something that he didn't want to find, but he didn't know what that something was. Until now. He was utterly, and completely in love with his roommate and he didn't even know. 

Well, shit. 

The microwave beeps and Lando sits up straight, eagerly awaiting the return of his food. Sighing, he makes his way over. 

Notes:

My only explanation for not updating for so long is that I was brutally struck by the ao3 curse.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3: • Lando

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING in end notes, check if you're sensitive. If you don't want spoilers, just read ahead.

There's a strange expression on Oscar's face as he comes back from the kitchen, but Lando favours making grabby hands at him over questioning it. He spends all day having to be emotionally intelligent, so he's taking a break from it. 

He can't help but notice that he looks suspicious though. Like he's hiding something. 

In the whole time they've been living together, Lando's secretly assumed that Oscar must've been hiding something. He keeps himself to himself, and lives an impressively private life. 

The only social media he has is Instagram. Even on that, there's no trace of a real person. Just a private account with twenty two followers. Lando, his family, and a few of his friends - some from back in Australia, some that Lando recognises from Oscar's work. 

At first, it felt like Oscar Piastri didn't exist. 

Now, he's gotten past the wall of dry humour Oscar protects himself with, and is more than aware of the real person behind him. All thoughts of him being a spy or an assassin sent to kill him had vanished completely. 

Yet, in this very moment, based on a simple distant look on his face, the sneaky suspicious rears its ugly head, threatening to return in a way bigger than ever. 

When Oscar still doesn't say anything, he tilts his head to the side with a cheeky smile. “Did you have fun?” If he wants to know what's going on, he knows he must first act clueless. 

“Huh?” Oscar asks, looking up with a confused expression. Like a deer in headlights but in a kind of cute way. Or something of the sorts, at least. 

He rolls his eyes. “In the kitchen. You looked like you were..” There's a pause as he considers what to say, thinking back to what Oscar had looked like. A lot of things really. “Deep in thought.”

“I was,” the Australian half-explains. Sighing again, he slumps down further on the couch, keeping his eyes firmly on the cricket as if it was the most important thing in the world right now. 

To Oscar, it might be. But to Lando? It was incredibly boring and he feels like his eyes are burning up so much that they're about to get cremated. He doesn't say anything, though. Wouldn't dare to complain. 

Since he moved in, Oscar's done so much for him. It's kind of insane, really. He doesn't do much in return, and he's well aware of that, but he doesn't know what he could do. Oscar's incredibly low maintenance in a way that he wouldn't usually complain about. 

Sometimes, it feels like their friendship is extremely off-balance, but it seems to work. So instead of complaining, he absentmindedly comments, “you sigh a lot.”

Finally, Oscar smiles, in that soft way he always does. The way that makes Lando's heart flutter for some reason. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

He places his now finished bowl on the table and just sits there for a beat, hunched over. “I should probably go back to work. Shouldn't I?”

Oscar nods. 

“Did I leave the sign up?”

Oscar nods again.

“Shit!” he calls out, already half way down the stairs. It's not the first time he's done this, and it probably won't be the last. Not only does he hate his job, he's also exceptionally bad at every part that he is remotely capable of being bad at. 

In some way, it's impressive, but horrible for his sanity and ability to make money. One day, he swears that he'll pull himself together and actually be able to get a life. 

Once he gets downstairs, he's met with a man, looking rather confused and staring out of the window as if he hadn't just come from outside.

He's completely ignorant of the fact that Lando's there, so he doesn't bother to interrupt him. Instead, he just curiously watches him as he picks up a book from the shelf. Naturally, it's not one of his, but Oscar's. Apparently, there's no space for them in his room, and Lando wouldn't dare object. 

Lando himself hasn't read it, not even the blurb, but the cover suggests that it's about some cricketer. Fitting. Besides, it's a nice thing to have something of Oscar's to decorate the space. Since they're both living together, his office is as much Oscar's as it is his own. 

Subtly, or at least to Lando's standards, he sits down on his chair and places his hands together. Like he's the head of some creepy villain organization. “You here alone?”

The mysterious man swivels on his feet to face him. He's got a bit of facial hair, but it's well-managed, and deep brown eyes. They're not warm in the way Oscar's are, though. “I'm not here for romance, Mr. Norris.”

How the heck does he know my name? Lando thinks to himself before realising that it's on the building. Plastered all over it, actually. Duh. And he's been in the news. Once or twice. He's kinda proud about that. 

“Then why on earth are you here? Mr..” He doesn't know his name, and doesn't know enough about him to even attempt to guess. “Mr. Person.”

The guy scoffs, clearly thinking that he's better than him. That may be true, but only when it comes to intelligence - and potentially physical strength too. Lando has a quick look at the guy's arms, and okay, yeah. 

“I want to buy your company.”

“Dude, I'm the whole company.” The idea of someone buying his business was downright preposterous (he learnt that word from Oscar, and he thought it sounded silly). “You can't just buy me.”

His confidence is entirely unfettered. “Oh, but that's exactly what I'm offering you.”

“..You what?” By now, Oscar would probably be napping, off in the world of koalas and Australian sunshine or whatever he dreams about. Yet, calling him down isn't sounding like such a bad idea right now. 

“I mean.” He pauses to clear his throat. “I'm part of an organization that owns a bunch of small businesses, like your own. You may have heard of us.” Slyly, he slides a business card across the desk, which reads a name that Lando, in fact, does not recognise. 

“I haven't,” Lando says simply. 

The guy looks a bit surprised, and if Lando was anyone else, he'd probably feel stupid. But if you're always stupid, it doesn't matter if other people think you are. 

“Either way, we make a lot of money, and we support a lot of people. I believe that this could be a great business opportunity for you.” Both his smile and his words seem forced; Lando doesn't trust it in the slightest. 

He's definitely not calling that number. “Thanks, I'll consider it.” He definitely won't be. As soon as the guy had turned away, he heads towards the bin in the corner of the room. 

Against his will, he freezes completely. 

“You will think about it.” His tone is certain, leaving no room whatsoever for arguments. Almost like.. 

Mind control. Lando had heard of it before, and many uses of it are completely illegal in many situations, most likely including this one. Unpermitted usage of any powers are completely morally wrong. He'd never do that to someone, even though his is practically harmless. 

Before this very moment, he'd never considered why it was such an awful thing to do. He had just accepted it. But now, he feels so completely violated that he could cry. 

By itself, his hand moves to place the card into his pocket, and he has the overwhelming urge to consider accepting this deal.

“It's been a pleasure talking to you, Mr. Norris.”

“Likewise, Mr. Cooper.”

It's horrible. The words felt as if they'd been physically pulled from his vocal cords and out of his mouth, leaving nothing but a slight burning sensation and a sense of dread in their wake. 

Immediately after he had left, Lando rushes to change the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. This is early - even by his standards - but it feels like a valid decision this time. 

Before the door even has the chance to shut, he rushes upstairs, remaining careful not to make too much noise. Just because he's suffering, that doesn't mean his napping friend has to as well. 

As if by instinct, he gravitates towards the kitchen and gets himself some snacks. They don't do much to help. 

Next, he heads to his room, and plops himself down on his gaming chair. The set up is singlehandedly where all of his money went, and what's stopping him from being loaded. Shame. But also worth it. And yet, not one game or stream sounds good right now. Always when he's busy, never when he needs a distraction. How helpful. 

Nothing's good on TV right now that he could watch without Oscar, which leaves him with only one reasonable option. 

Gently, he opens the door to Oscar's bedroom, cringing at the slight creak it makes. Goodness, this apartment is old. He creeps over to Oscar and lies down beside him. The Australian doesn't even stir. He's always been a heavy sleeper, and Lando’s been known to take advantage of that. Now isn’t exactly any different. 

In his sleep, his breathing is slow and even. His lips are parted in a way that makes them look awfully kissable, and, wow, that's a thought that Lando's never had before. His hair is even more messy than normal. 

Carefully, Lando picks up Oscar's arm and wraps it around himself, feeling significantly better already. The simple contact completely erases the discomfort in his throat. He suspects that it's not because of his powers, but Lando's disgust also seems to falter. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, he snuggles into him, enjoying the touch for more reasons than just the magical benefit. 

He's completely forgotten about the way Oscar was acting at lunch, and chooses to enjoy his company instead, blissfully ignorant of what was going on. Besides, he has his own problems to deal with right now. 

Notes:

There's a scene where someone uses their power on Lando without his consent. In this world, this is an incredibly messed up thing to do. It is presented in a way that's not too different from sexual assault.

Chapter 4: • Oscar

Annoyingly, his nap didn't last very long. Only an hour or so. Regardless, he feels different when he becomes conscious again: a lot warmer. Then, he realises that's because there's currently something warm in his arms. 

Although he already expected it, he's happy to open his eyes to find Lando wrapped up in his arms, sleeping peacefully. It's happened once or twice before, and he's never minded. But ever since he realised his feelings, he's been reluctant to touch him like he usually would. 

Being able to hold him like this, feels like the greatest honour in the world, yet insanely risky. He's never felt worthy of being able to touch Lando, and now he feels like it's unfair because he wants more.

Nothing weird, obviously. 

Oscar's not even sure he's capable of thinking about Lando like that. Sure, he's found his mind wandering before. It's not like Lando's subtle about his sexuality - constantly bringing both boys and girls home. 

Well, he used to be like that. Now, he tends to stay in more often than not, and when he does go out he always gets back early. Thank goodness. 

Besides, it's not that having.. that with Lando is a disgusting thought, but his experiences with his power has made the whole concept of physical intimacy difficult to begin with. 

And if he starts thinking of Lando like that, even for  a beat too long, there's a pretty good chance that he'd never be able to meet him in the eye again. 

But it's still hard not to want more when he already has him, but not every part of him. He wants the whole thing - flaws and all - and he can't really deny that anymore. 

Hopefully, Lando will stick to his usual ways: unquestioning and rather oblivious. Oscar means that in the best way possible, naturally. 

In his sleep, however, Lando is completely unaware of the world around him. So, Oscar leans toward to bury his face in Lando's curls, taking in the scent. They're as soft as ever and smell faintly of pomegranates and apples. 

He shouldn't, and he knows it, but he can't help but pepper a few kisses there before pulling away. It feels like more than a few fleeting touches, but the guilt that weighs down on his heart makes him scared to even consider doing anything more. 

Subconsciously, Lando hums happily, pushing himself back into the touch. That's not what he expected at all, but he pressed his lips against the same spot regardless. 

Whatever Lando wants, he gets. That's the way it tends to work between them anyway. Oscar's not complaining when the only thing he truly desires is Lando. 

Groaning, he accidentally causes Lando to stir awake and turns to face him. Now, Oscar can see that his eyelashes are slightly damp, like he's been crying in his sleep. Once Lando opens his eyes properly, his suspicions are only confirmed by the faint red tint to them. 

How could he be so preoccupied with kisses that he didn't realise that Lando was upset? 

Slowly, he traces his fingertip across Lando's jaw. It feels different now that he knows that the other boy is fully conscious, and more than aware of his actions. “Nightmare?” he asks gently, wanting - no, needing - Lando to know that he's not asking just to tease. 

“Uhm, not exactly.” His voice is hoarse, and tears immediately fill his eyes again. Lando cries all the time: at shows, movies, sad adverts and sometimes the littlest amount of pain. None of that is quite like this. “..Something happened.”

“What kind of something?” His hand stills entirely, lightly resting on the side of Lando's face. The skin there is soft, but he feels a small tear land on his thumb. Oscar wants to cry too.

Avoiding any eye contact, Lando murmurs, “this guy used his power on me.”

Oscar doesn't have to ask anymore questions to know how awful that must've been for him. Nobody's ever seriously used their powers on Oscar himself without his permission, so he couldn't understand quite as much as he wants to, but it was clear to him that it'd be, well, something worth crying like this over. 

It's still light outside, and his shift isn't until late tomorrow, so he has plenty of time to at least attempt to cheer Lando up. Gently, he squeezes his cheek. “How about we have a drink and watch something?”

“Watch what?”

“Whatever you want, Landers.” It's a dangerous offer, but it feels more than appropriate in this specific scenario. He's willing to put up with a trashy reality TV series for a few hours if it means Lando won't be like this any longer. 

The Brit pipes up and shimmies out of the bed, revealing smooth, tanned legs, barely covered by bright green shorts. Noticing his blatant staring, Lando rolls his eyes. “I know my ass is lovely, osc, but let's get a move on. Yeah?”

That it is. 

He follows Lando out, using every ounce of his self control to not stare at his ass as he walks. The Brit heads straight to the living room, flopping down on the couch, and Oscar smiles fondly from the kitchen the second he looks away. He's not so bad at keeping his secret after all. 

Besides, he can't be too obvious, otherwise either Lando or Oscar himself would've noticed a lot earlier. If he's been hiding his feelings for this long, he can keep doing it. But for how long? He doesn't want to move out to give himself some space, and he's definitely not going to find anyone else some time soon. 

His only apparent option is to wait until Lando starts dating someone, and he'll just have to take that as his wake up call. Or suffer in silence. There's a good chance of that too. 

Distracting himself from his internal crisis, Oscar contemplates what drink to give him instead. Obviously, he's dehydrated from crying, but there's not too many options. Lando usually refuses to have water because it's ‘too boring’ and the only other thing he has stashed is about thirty different flavors of monster, which Oscar refuses to give him right now. 

After some further searching, he finds a hot chocolate making kit from Christmas. Surprisingly, they're just about still in date and there's exactly two left. 

While Lando's busying himself with finding something to watch, he makes them both a hot chocolate and grabs a bag of marshmallows. The pack looks full bar one, and he knows exactly who the culprit is. No matter, there's plenty left. 

He grabs one mug in each hand and balances the marshmallows on top. Once Lando sees him, his eyes light up like a kid seeing all their presents under the tree on Christmas Day. 

Lando takes the bag of marshmallows from on top of the mugs, helping himself to one while Oscar places the two mugs down on the coffee table. “We really should buy some coasters,” he comments absent-mindedly. 

His voice muffled from the marshmallows (at least three) in his mouth, Lando sort of attempts to say, “that can be your job then. Plus, that was probably the nerdiest thing you've ever said. Like literally ever.”

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” he chastises, popping one into his mouth as soon as he'd said it. They're a little hard from the bag being opened, but that just made them chewy. 

“Mph.” No words were even remotely intelligible in that sentence. Lando swallows, the action making an audible gulp noise. “You don't talk with your mouthful.”

Politely, Oscar chews and swallows. “I don't.”

Lando tries to jump at him, but he looks kind of like a flying squirrel with his arms all stretched out. And instead of causing any harm, he ends up draped across Oscar's lap. In a way, that causes harm to Oscar's mental well-being, but he doubts that was his original intention. 

He giggles and ruffles Lando's curls, but after that they're silent. He basks in it, taking in every single one of his breaths, seeing the way that his chest rose and fell. The flutter of his eyelashes when he opens his eyes. 

But it doesn't take too long before one of Lando's breaths turns into a shaky sob. Silence isn't good for everyone right now. Gently, Oscar shushes him and threads his fingers through his messed up curls. “Hey, hey, it's okay. I've got you.”

He lets Lando silently cry into his shoulder for a while, slowly trailing his hand up and down his back. As much as he would love to make him laugh - or at least smile again - he realises that does far more good for him than that would. 

Holding him close, he feels like he really does have Lando. Raw, open, vulnerable, but still safe. Of course, he wants Lando's pain to end, but he can't help hoping that this never will.

---

After a few episodes of Glow Up and two mugs of hot chocolate each, Lando looks a lot less upset. Oscar's sure that it didn't ease his pain too much, but he hopes it took some of the weight of it off his shoulders. 

Lando protests about having to go to bed, but Oscar points out that he looks exhausted. Reluctantly, he agrees, but he watches as Oscar locks every single door or window that could lead into the building. 

Oscar doesn't mind doing any of it in the slightest, especially when he sees Lando sigh a big sigh in relief. "Who's the one sighing all the time now?"

Side-eying him, Lando gently wacks Oscar's shoulder. "You shouldn't be mean to me right now."

"And why not, hm?" 

"Because I'm vulnerable. But more importantly, you should never be mean to me, 'cause I'm your favorite person and you love me." He folds his arms dramatically and huffs. "Now carry me to bed."

Amused, Oscar does exactly that, carrying his roommate as if he was a princess, although he suspects a princess would be much lighter. Not that he minds. 

When Lando was comfortable and in bed, he walks out, but stops in the doorway. "I do, you know?"

"You do what?"

"Love you."

He'd said it to Lando before, in a purely platonic way, but this one felt like it had more weight to it. Plus, it's usually Lando saying it first, and Oscar doesn't always say it back. 

Lando's eyes firmly lock onto Oscar's, but it looks like he's seeing past them and straight into his soul. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"I mean, good." He grins again, and it looks genuine. There's not a more beautiful sight in the world. "I love you too."

Trying to not embarrass himself further, he mumbles a quick 'goodnight' and closes the door behind him before waiting for a response. 

But when he plugs his phone in back in his own room, he sees that he's got a message from Lando: goodnight to you too muppet . 

He screams into his pillow, hoping with everything within him that Lando didn't hear it. 

Notes:

Sorry for the wait guys!! I've been busy with family stuff, but I had some free time. I promise I'll update more, so don't give up on me please!

That race was really something too. Happy for Oscar with the championship gap now, but it was a horrible race for him, and an even worse one for Lando. ☹️

Chapter 5: • Lando

The next day, Lando doesn't even bother getting out of bed when he wakes up. Why bother? Instead, he just turns over and closes his eyes again, all of yesterday's memories playing over and over in his mind. 

Both the good and the bad. Oscar's note. Max coming in to rant about his dream guy that he's too scared to actually talk to. Lunch. Then, his mind wanders to what happened in the afternoon, and he shudders, taking a deep breath and trying to think about literally anything else. 

He buries his face into his pillow, wishing that he was in Oscar's room just down the hallway so it would smell like him. For no specific reason. 

It's only natural that his focus shifts onto Oscar eventually, knowing that the Aussie is sound asleep one room over. His shift isn't for a few hours and he's catching up on some much needed sleep. Not because of his long hours or anything, but from having to deal with Lando. 

Look, it's not that Lando doesn't realise that he's a lot of effort. High maintenance, if you will. Because he does. 

It's just that Oscar seems to happily give in to every single one of Oscar's asks, and he's not entirely sure why. There's a chance that he genuinely doesn't mind, but Lando bets that that's not all. And while he's not working, he's going to spend his time figuring it out. 

Wanting to get started, he throws himself out of bed, not bothering to make it - as usual - heads to the bathroom, does his business and then knocks on Oscar's door. Once. Twice. Three times.. “What?”

Too easy. “I'm just really bored, Oscar.” He's not going to play the whole victim card yet, but it's definitely stored in the back of his mind, waiting to come into play. 

There's a shuffling and a groan that's far too dramatic for Lando's liking on the other side of the door. “Give me a few minutes and I'll be out.”

“Thanks, Osc~”

Lando walks over to the kitchen, considering getting something to eat before remembering his little experiment. He can just get Oscar to do just about everything for him, and he doesn't have any reason to feel guilty about it. 

Stretching out over the couch, he watches as Oscar leaves his bedroom, heading straight to the kitchen. Without even asking, he makes toast for the both of them: leaving Lando’s in for a while, cutting it into two triangles and spreading a thin layer of Nutella on it; his own's barely toasted, and cut into rectangles and with fat globs of butter on top. 

How healthy. 

Oscar hands Lando's plate to him and sits down a respectable distance away, like he didn't know how to treat him. His hand twitches for a moment, but ends up staying still. “So.. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty shit,” he says honestly, wondering why Oscar just won't touch him. There's a good chance that he just doesn't want Lando to feel violated like he did yesterday. Probably nothing more to it. 

Drumming his fingers on his knee, he hums thoughtfully. “That's fair.”

“I'm going to work today,” Lando adds, just to fill the silence. He's always hated silence, and it feels extra weird now: between him and Oscar, especially since he's not even sat close enough for Lando to hear his breathing. 

“I don't blame you.” His tone is so calm - so non judgemental - that it's almost annoying. Still, not quite. “I will be, though.”

Right. Lando had almost forgotten about that. He won't get Oscar all day, so he has to do enough to be thinking about this while Oscar's at work, instead of the incident. Well, shit. 

“Oscar?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't know what I'd do without you,” he says honestly, not entirely sure where that came from. It was a sudden, overwhelming urge, and he doesn't know how to feel about it. 

He opens his mouth to say something - anything - but Oscar gets there first. “I promise you won't have to find out.”

Lando sighs out in relief, dramatically flopping down and burying his face into Oscar's lap. “I better not.”

Gently, Oscar pushes Lando's head closer to knees rather than somewhere that it really shouldn't be. Then, he slowly threads his fingers through his hair, freeing one messy curl from another. 

This is nice. Really nice. 

His heartbeat gradually slows down to a nice, even pace. He suspects that it's beating perfectly in time with Oscar's. Stupidly, he asks, “can I read your compatibility?”

He doesn't hold his breath waiting for an answer. Each and every time, it's no, and he respects it. His intention isn’t to be pushy; he’s just genuinely curious, and he knows that if Oscar minded, he would've asked him to stop by now. 

But Oscar's not saying anything. No deadpan rejection. Lando looks up at him and there's an expression on his face that hasn't appeared since the very first time he asked: consideration. 

After a really, really, really long pause, Oscar slows nods. “Not now though,” he clarifies. “Maybe when I get home from work.”

No fucking way. 

“Yes fucking way.”

He didn't mean to say that out loud. Or maybe the surprise was just abundantly evident on his face, and by now, his responses must be getting predictable. “Cool,” he says, sounding rather uncool. 

Annoyingly, his heart-rate skyrockets, but then Oscar's hand continues to move through his hair. There's no tugging or anything even remotely painful. Just light tingles of pleasure from the combination of magic and a gentle touch. 

It takes barely any time for it to even out again. After, he doesn't fight his eyes fluttering shut as he catches up on some much needed sleep, still resting on Oscar's lap.

When he wakes up, it's like Oscar hasn't moved a muscle. He shifts - ever so slightly - just so he can look up at his face. Oscar's eyes are closed, and his head's tilted back, resting on the back of the couch. 

Looking at him, he gives up on his plan. If he takes advantage of Oscar's constant care too much, then it'll lose its value. Or worse: Oscar will get sick of him and his neediness. It's not like he's dependent on him or anything. 

Okay, maybe that's a lie. But he's not entirely dependent. Most of the time. 

He groans but immediately slaps a hand over his mouth so as to not wake up the man sleeping just below him. In his sleep, he looks softer than usual, but his eyebrows and furrowed like he's concentrating on something. 

It's almost funny how Oscar is seemingly incapable of just relaxing for one second, even in his sleep. Lando wonders what he's thinking about so intently. It's probably a work thing, but he's still curious. 

When he first found out that Oscar was a doctor, if you can even call him that, he was skeptical. He assumed he'd be stressed all the time, tell stupid stories containing too much information about blood and warn him about safety all the damn time. 

That was before he even met Oscar. Now, he finds himself invested in the stupidest injuries of the day, Oscar's crappy co-workers (excluding Charles, who they've collectively decided is not completely crappy) and not minding when a story turns into a mild lecture about why Lando shouldn't do certain things. 

After getting to know Oscar - both as a doctor and as a regular person - Lando isn't sure whether he's become a better person himself, or if Oscar's so incredible that what he'd find boring in others, he finds amazing in him. 

Dragging a knuckle lightly over Oscar's cheek, his brain shuts off entirely, enjoying how surprisingly soft the skin is instead. He's forever grateful that Oscar didn't wake up from it, because he has no idea how he could possibly explain what he's doing. 

 

---

 

“Lando, what the hell?” Oscar shouted (well, not quite. Oscar could never actually shout at anyone. Never has, and never will, as far as Lando’s aware of.) “I've got to leave in.. What? Ten minutes? And you didn't bother to wake me up?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. The one thing he wanted was to take care of Oscar, and like the idiot he is, he failed at that. He looks down, and by the time he looks back up, Oscar has rushed off into his room. 

In hindsight, Lando knows he should've got him up an hour ago, if not even earlier so Oscar would've had time to do everything he tends to before a shift. 

With a sigh, he heads to the kitchen, determined to fix things. He gets two pieces of bread from the bread bin, and some butter from the fridge, and he gets to work. He puts some leftover chicken, lettuce and tomato on it, and it ends up looking more presentable than anything else he's ever (tried and failed) to make. 

He grabs Oscar's lunch box and fills it with the sandwich, an apple and a couple TimTams. 

As soon as the lid shuts, Oscar comes out of his room wearing something more work appropriate and holding his hastily packed backpack. 

The surprised look on his face would've made him laugh in any other situation. If he didn't know what happened, Lando would assume that Oscar just saw a unicorn fly past, with a speaker on its back that was blasting ‘it's raining tacos’. 

“You made me lunch?” Oscar asks, sounding as surprised as he looks. He shakes his head. “Thank you.”

Once again, no words come out of Lando's mouth. He's strangely flustered, but still ashamed. He just holds out the box, and Oscar takes it, shoving it into his bag. 

“I should..” Oscar trails off, and awkwardly points towards the door, looking at Lando, but not quite into his eyes. Fair enough. 

“Bye, Osc.”

Oscar walks over to the door, but spins on his feet just before leaving. There's a fond smile on his face, like nothing ever happened. “Bye, Lando.”

It starts to rain the second that Lando hears the front door slam shut.

Notes:

It's been a while.. Don't give up on me, guys! I'll be writing like crazy over summer.

P.S. comments and kudos do indeed keep me going, so.

Chapter 6: • Oscar

Three hours into his shift, he finally gets to have some time to himself in the break room. Mostly by himself, anyway; Charles is staring intensely at a bouquet of flowers. One petal flutters down dramatically, and Charles groans loudly, as if he wants Oscar to ask what's wrong. 

He doesn't bother. Instead, he opens up his lunch box and inspects the sandwich. Usually, he trusts Lando, but cooking really isn't his strong suit, but when takes a bite, he finds out that it's actually not horrible. 

Sandwiches aren't particularly difficult to make, but he'll give credit where it's due. Charles clears his throat, and when Oscar turns around he struts towards him. “Hi, Charles,” he grumbles, not entirely in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone Charles.

And yet, he takes it as an opportunity to sit down in front of Oscar, thrusting out his hand like it offends him. In said hand, is a bouquet of spider lilies; half of them are a deep red and the others a pristine white. “Look at them,” Charles demands, a frustrated look on his face. 

“They're pretty,” Oscar comments casually, attempting to sound interested enough for Charles to not yell at him, but not so interested that he starts telling him more. 

Perhaps, he sounded too interested, or maybe that was the wrong emotion entirely, because Charles all but screeches, “sure, they are pretty, but he must think I am not!”

Unfortunately, since Oscar has to hear about this from both Charles and Lando, he knows that ‘he’ is Max. Oscar sighs. “Why does this mean that he doesn't think you're pretty?” He's never received flowers in his whole life, but he does know that there's some secret code behind them. 

“Because, Oscar, he left these at my doorstep this morning-”

“That's such a nice gesture, Charles-”

“By ringing the doorbell and running away before I could catch him to talk. Not so good. Non?”

Oscar sighs. “Non,” he repeats, in an awful French (well, Monegasque) accent. “Maybe he was just too scared to talk to you. We've all been there. Right?”

On second thought, there's a good chance that Charles hasn't been there. He's handsome in a way that you can't ignore, but not in the way that a certain other person is. Mentally, he curses himself for thinking about Lando. 

Charles doesn't say anything about the situation or not, but he does groan again. “Well, I want to talk to him!” he whines, then corrects himself, “I want him to talk to me.”

“What a princess,” Oscar mutters, mostly to himself. 

Offended, Charles huffs and walks off, likely grateful for the reason to exit - Oscar knew damn well that he only had a minute or two left of his break. Regardless, Oscar really couldn't care less. He simply eats all of his food, a smile on his face whenever he thinks about the person that made it for him. 

Gosh, he really needs to get over this stupid thing. Whatever it is. 

It's not a crush - that's reserved for teenagers who see a boy that fills the idea of someone ideal in their head. It's far too light for his feelings towards Lando. Too immature. Too weak. 

Liking him sounds off as well. Like he can live without him. Like he's just something that he appreciates, and is happy to talk about. Certainly not something that he's physically incapable of not thinking about for a single second of the day. 

And love? Oscar's scared to even consider the possibility. 

 

---

 

At home, the first thing he finds is Lando asleep on the couch. He could join him, but all they've been doing recently is sleeping, and Lando did say he wanted to get Charles and Max together. 

Although he's not entirely sure why, he gets his phone out and takes a photo of Lando all curled up. His thumb hovers over the button to delete it, but subconsciously, it floats over to save it to his favourites instead. 

Then, he makes his way over to Lando and gently whispers his name. Naturally, there's no response. He lightly shakes his arm, and watches as Lando shifts, eyes still closed. “Five more minutes, Mum,” he groans, the words almost unintelligible. 

Startled, Oscar laughs. “I'm not your mum.”

Immediately, Lando shoots up, eyes comically wide. “Oscar!” He gets to his feet and wraps his arms tightly around Oscar's shoulders, burying his face deep into the crook of his neck. 

It takes everything within him to not call Lando something stupid like gorgeous or sweetheart. “Hey, Lando,” he says softly, hugging him back. “I'm sorry for yelling at you.”

“I'm sorry for being useless.”

“Lando, you're never useless.”

“No, I definitely am.”

Oscar took a deep breath. The last thing he wants right now is to turn this into an argument. “You're not,” he says definitively. Lando opens his mouth to speak but Oscar places his finger over his lips. “I have a Charles update.”

Lando pulls back to look Oscar in the eyes. “A regular Charles update? Or a Lestappen update?” The sparkle in his eyes is unmistakable. 

Ignoring that, he laughs a little - it's genuine. “Lestappen?”

“Charles's last name is Leclerc.” Oscar nods. “And Max's is Verstappen.” He pulls away completely - much to Oscar's disappointment - to do a sweeping motion, like it all made complete sense. “Therefore, Lestappen.” 

“Right..” He clears his throat. “Max got him flowers again, but all Charles wants is for him to, you know, actually talk to him.”

Frantically, Lando got his phone out and typed away like he was doing something as important as stopping a bomb. “Uh huh.”

“I'm not sure why he's complaining.” Lando stops typing and looks at him curiously. Oscar swallows. “I mean, if somebody got me flowers, I'd be happy regardless.”

Lando sends his text. “Carlos got me flowers when we were together,” he says thoughtfully, then frowns. “They were sunflowers. I hate sunflowers.”

“Fuck Carlos, then.” 

“Agreed.”

Before Lando moved in, he was seeing some Spanish guy named Carlos. From what Oscar knows, Carlos cheated on him with a girl, claiming that it was fine since Lando was not a girl. Apparently, he needed to be with a girl again, and Lando just wasn't doing enough for him. Sexually. 

Oscar could never understand that. Lando was absolutely stunning in a way that's more than enough for him. Every touch - from hug to high five - makes Oscar not even consider being with anyone else, which is honestly a curse. 

And yet, Carlos got Lando in any way he wanted and still didn't see that as being good enough. All in all, he's incredibly glad that Lando broke up with him. 

“Remember what you promised me?” Lando asks mischievously all of a sudden. There's an interesting look in face that scares Oscar in a strange way. 

“Uh..” He thinks back. “Oh, yeah, you can read me.”

It's hard not to be worried about what Lando finds, but it won't be the end of the world. Besides, it's all worth it for the look of excitement on Lando's face. Kid on Christmas morning kind of vibes. 

Unfortunately, the urge to kiss him is stronger than ever before. He stays tense as Lando sits him down. For a moment, Lando just stares at him. With a blank expression, Lando mumbles, “these seem oddly familiar.”

“They do?”

Lando hums. “I'll look into it tomorrow. But for now, I think some dinner and Married At First Sight would be absolutely mint.”

“Got it.” He gets started on dinner not long later, making something with zero sea food, as per usual. Because of Lando, he hasn't had any in months. Oscar clings to that as something that's bad about Lando, because, well. It's kinda necessary at this point. 

They watch their stupid show while eating dinner and go their separate ways. But when Oscar wakes up the next day, he spots something on his desk. 

It's an assortment of wild flowers picked from outside. 

He doesn't know whether he should laugh, scream or cry. Emotions have always been Lando's thing. Same with love. No wonder he's so damn confused. 

Notes:

Peak romance. Sorry abt the Carlos slander.

Chapter 7: • Lando

Notes:

I lied to y'all on tumblr, coz she's a day early.

A week's past since he read Oscar, and he still has no idea why they seem so familiar. There's got to be something about them, but he just doesn't know what. It's so frustrating. 

Lando hasn't gone back to work yet, and Oscar hasn't complained one bit about it as long as he keeps making him those sandwiches, so he has. But right now, he's frantically searching through the documents left in his drawer. 

He told Oscar he'd look into it tomorrow, and it's been many, many tomorrows. And yet, zero progress has been made. 

Frantically searching through a file - one of a girl that he didn't bother to read the name of - he hears the click of the door. It was locked, so it must be Oscar, but he doesn't look up to check. How could he explain that he failed yet again? 

He flicks through the file a little too fast, accidentally slicing his fingertip on it. “Shit,” he cries out, shaking it like it's on fire and not just in a manageable amount of pain. 

Lando doesn't even realise he's crying until Oscar's wiping his tears away. It's pure frustration; frustration with his own uselessness, with the lack of information, with his stupid power, and his whole life situation right now. 

A couple days ago, Oscar reported the whole thing to the police on Lando's behalf - even sent in the business card. He knows it's being handled, but he's still sort of terrified. Everything just sucks. 

Well, not quite everything. 

Oscar very carefully takes Lando's injured finger into his hand and wipes the tiny amount of blood away. That itself practically heals it, but he doesn't stop, bringing it to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss to the fading wound. 

And, okay, wow, that's new. Both the feeling and the kiss itself. His lips part and he stares up at Oscar. Lando could only imagine what he looks like right now: tear tracks drying on his cheeks, red eyes, and completely vulnerable. 

But Oscar? Oscar's absolutely beautiful, and looking at Lando like he's just given him every single star in the Milky Way. That's also new. Not the beauty or the look, but the realisation. 

“Oh,” he says softly, moving his lips into a thin line as soon as the sound leaves, like he's worried he'd say something stupid, or worse, kiss Oscar. 

Oscar, however, just as softly echoes, “oh.”

Then, Lando gets an idea. It's a stupid one. Potentially the stupidest he's ever had and that's really saying something (he once drank a whole carton of milk without a break because Max said that he wouldn't be able to). 

He gets to his feet without a hint of elegance, and moves his hand out of Oscar's. “I need to check something,” he calls out, sprinting towards the stairs. 

Already half-way up, he hears a confused noise from Oscar, who does not follow him up. 

 

---

 

Lando stares at himself in the mirror for a long time after, putting all his weight in his hands which were pushing down on the sink countertop. Hard. So hard in fact that his knuckles are turning white and he's grateful that his power is what it is and not super strength. 

His power that’s now got him in something that most would call a rather sticky situation. Lando would just call it a hot mess. The whole ordeal less than ten minutes ago inspired him to check his own compatibility stats. 

Thinking back, Lando remembers that it's been years since he last looked - probably when he was young, insecure and dating his ex, who he will not think about too deeply again. 

No wonder they were so fuzzy. 

And yeah, they match up to Oscar's nearly perfectly. It's a coincidence, really, the fact that it took so long for Oscar to agree to be read that Lando forgot his own. That they found each other. That they managed to be friends for almost two years. That neither of them have ever tried nor failed to make a move on the other. 

But now that he does know, he's actually pretty damn happy. The man downstairs is potentially the best person that anyone could possibly date. Literally anyone. 

He's too good for Lando, but hey, he's always known that so this doesn't really change too much. So all that he's got to do now is go downstairs, calmly explain what he's just found out and casually give it a go. 

Because romance is that easy. 

But that's never how things work with them. Huh? Oscar makes his way upstairs as soon as Lando leaves the bathroom. “Is everything okay?”

Lando doesn't know what to say to that, because everything is in fact not okay. They're either absolutely splendid or absolutely terrific depending on whether he's able to deliver this news or not. And how Oscar takes it, of course. 

What if Oscar rejects him, moves out and leaves him all alone - again? It's not even the isolation that scares him, but the lack of Oscar sounds like a fate crueler than anyone deserves. 

Obviously, he's the only person that has Oscar. This Oscar - anyway, but if anyone else was in his position, they'd understand how awful it'd be. 

Maybe it'd be better to just play it safe, keep Oscar in the one way that he's sure he could.. No. This has to be worth it. Even if things didn't work out, Oscar's such a nice guy that they'd probably still be able to be friends. 

With chance, he always tells himself that it's worth it if the reward’s better than what could go wrong. And oh boy, it is. 

What if Oscar says that he's been seeing someone on the side and he was just being private about it? Lando wouldn't be too surprised, really. He's always been an incredibly private person, and when you look like that, it's hard to stay single. 

At the same time, however, Oscar's so awkward. Lando's seen him try to talk to people at bars before, and even when he wasn't flirting, it would never end well. It's one of the many, many things that he loves about him. Goodness, okay. 

Lando wouldn't even be surprised if Oscar was a virgin. The thought almost makes him laugh, but then he remembers that Oscar's right in front of him. Plus, if this goes to plan, he'd be the one to take it. That's a future Lando problem, regardless. 

“I've got something to tell you,” he finally replies, all the words coming in one breath. Pull yourself together, Lando. “But I'm not sure how you'll take it.”

Oscar steps forward, getting dangerously close to him. It wasn't even close, really, but still terrifying. “I promise I won't be mad. Not at you, at least.”

Lando swallows, hard. “I found out why your compatibility results were so familiar..” Oscar raises an eyebrow, silently showing his curiosity and signalling for him to go. “We've got, uhm, well, 98.14%.”

“Holy fuck,” Oscar breathes out, his voice, pink cheeks and wide smile displaying what was easily the most emotion that Lando’s ever seen from him. “Seriously?”

Lando looks up to see his reaction, which is almost overwhelmingly positive. “Seriously.”

In a shock move, Oscar picks him up and twirls him around, like he's a princess. He kinda feels like one. Then, Oscar kisses him and, yeah, it's 98% perfect, give or take two percent. 

When they pull away to breathe, Lando giggles. “Oh, hell yeah.”

“Mate.”

“You love me.”

Oscar kisses him again, and it might just be more than 100% perfect. If it's Oscar, then he doesn't doubt it. There's a teasing smile on Oscar's face when he says, “oh, hell yeah, I do.”

Fin. 

Notes:

Thanks to everyone for your kind comments and kudos! I hope you enjoyed and there shall be a part two.. And maybe part three.

Notes:

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