Chapter 1: to you, I'm just a man; to me, you're all I am
Chapter Text
Oscar nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the knock at the door.
Well, it was more than a knock. It sounded more like someone had thrown their entire body weight against the door and he didn’t have to guess to know exactly who it was on the other side. He’d been trying to get some of his coursework done, but he knew that was probably a lost cause now.
“Mate,” Lando’s voice called from the other side of the door. “Oscar, I forgot my keys again.”
Oscar sighed, and for one moment, considered ignoring him, just to see what Lando would do if he did.
“Oscarrrrr,” Lando called again, ever impatient.
But of course, because Oscar never denied Lando anything, he wouldn’t leave him out there to suffer. He tossed his pencil onto his coursework, and stood from his desk chair, exiting the room to let his ever-forgetful roommate inside their flat.
He opened the door to find the exact picture he’d seen countless times before: Lando, leaning against the doorframe with his hands burrowed in his pockets, rucksack slung over one shoulder, and a completely innocent smile crinkling his features. He wore a large hoodie (Oscar’s, because Lando couldn’t be bothered to do his washing this week or any other week), his headphones slung around his neck.
It shouldn’t work, and god, Lando didn’t know how well it worked, but any annoyance Oscar had been feeling toward the other man faded at the expression on Lando’s face.
“Fuck,’ Lando said. “Thanks, mate. It won’t happen again.”
They both knew it was a lie, but Oscar chose not to call him on it. Instead, he just moved aside to let Lando into their flat and hummed noncommittally. They’d lived together for three years now and if either of them expected anything different at this point, they’d be sorely disappointed.
Having abandoned his rucksack somewhere between the door and the walk to Oscar’s room, Lando kicked off his shoes and threw himself onto Oscar’s neatly made bed, immediately making himself at home as he’d done countless times before.
“I need to get laid,” Lando announced.
“You have your own bed, you know,” Oscar said, as he sat back down, pointedly looking at the wall he and Lando shared, knowing full-well that Lando’s bed is still in the haphazard state he’d left it in that morning. “And your own room, as a matter of fact.”
Lando huffed, sinking further into Oscar’s bed, eyes floating to the ceiling. “Yeah, well, you know how the saying goes. What’s yours is mine and all that.”
“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes, but sure,” Oscar replied, rolling his eyes.
“You’re ignoring me,” Lando said.
Oscar tapped his pencil against the desk. “I’m not ignoring you. You’re always horny, Lando. That’s not different from any other day. I’ve just decided not to dignify it with a response.”
“Jeez, Osc,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “Someone’s a little pissy today.”
“Not pissy,” Oscar said, a little pissy.
“Definitely pissy,” Lando said under his breath.
Oscar threw a stray pillow at him, but Lando moved to the side before it could hit him and stuck out his tongue.
Done with the conversation, Oscar turned back around in his chair, looking back to his coursework. He’d been halfway through solving this problem set when Lando had gotten here, and he needed to finish it before he lost his train of thought again. He could see the threads of numbers spinning in his mind and spilling out onto the page, but the solution still eluded him. Despite how much he loved engineering, most days he questioned why he’d chosen such a demanding course. If he’d done something different, like Lando’s marketing course, maybe he wouldn’t spend seventy-five percent of his time locked in his room, on the verge of pulling out his own hair.
Lando went blessedly quiet, probably scrolling through something on his phone instead of doing his own coursework, like Oscar knew he should be doing. It was enough to draw him back into his work, eyes darting between his laptop and the scratch paper in front of him as he tried to sort out where he’d left off before Lando had interrupted him.
He was finally almost done with the set when Lando decided to speak again.
“Osc,” Lando said.
Oscar tried to ignore him. He really did. The solution was in reach and if he just had a couple more seconds to work through his maths then he might be able to finish this up with a satisfying conclusion before he dealt with whatever Lando needed from him which was probably both everything and nothing. He was scribbling down a sum onto the page when a pillow connected with the back of his head.
He sighed again, spinning around in his chair to look expectantly at Lando.
Lando, who was sitting at the far end of Oscar’s bed with his knees to his chest with a small smile on his face. A smile that, before he even opened his mouth, Oscar knew meant that he probably wasn’t going to like whatever Lando had to say.
Resigned to the fact that he probably wasn’t going to get any more work done, Oscar put down his pencil and moved his legs to rest on the mattress, his feet near Lando’s. He crossed his arms over his chest, arching an eyebrow at Lando.
“What if,” Lando began hesitantly. “You came out with me tonight?”
Oscar laughed, genuinely laughed.
Lando threw another pillow at him, but this time, Oscar caught it, tossing it aside harmlessly. “I’m serious, Osc. I need a wingman. It’s been like two weeks since I’ve gotten any and it's been months since you’ve gone to the club with me.”
“Why can’t Carlos or Max do it? I’m sure they’d be more than happy to talk you up. You know it’s not really my scene.” Oscar said, prodding Lando’s socked foot with his own.
Lando smacked his foot away ineffectually with his hand. “Because I want you there and you need to take a break from all this engineering shit. I can see the cogs spinning in your head and it's making my head hurt. One of these days, I’m going to come home and there’s just going to be an Oscar-sized puddle on the floor,” he said.
“Yeah, well, this ‘engineering shit’ is important, Lando,” Oscar said. “And besides, we both know I wouldn’t be a very good wingman, so if your goal is to get laid, I’m definitely not your man.”
“Forget me for a moment,” Lando said, waving a hand in front of his face. “You need to get laid. You’re fucking celibate, mate. I don’t know how your dick hasn’t shriveled up and fallen off. Aren’t you sick of your hand by now?”
Oscar rolled his eyes again. “Firstly, I’m not celibate. I just don’t shout my sexual exploits from the rooftop like some people.”
“Oi,” Lando said, in mock offense.
Oscar shot him a look.
“And secondly, my dick is perfectly fine, thank you.”
Lando smacked Oscar’s foot. “We share a wall, in case you’ve forgotten. And I haven’t seen you bring a girl around since Lily and that was…” Lando trailed off, squinting at the ceiling as he tried to parse together a timeline. “That was more than two years ago, mate. My god, if I went two years without sex, I’d probably kill myself.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” Oscar said, hedging.
Admittedly, it had been a while. Not the two years that Lando seemed to think, but it’d been probably eight months since Oscar had gotten a little bit of sexual release from something other than jerking off. And yes, he was sick of his hand, but needs must and he was too busy with school to spend his nights prowling campus for a hookup. Especially when the only person he’d actually care to have sex with was sitting on his bed right now, disturbingly oblivious to the fact that the reason Lily had broken it off with him was because Oscar was disgustingly, irrevocably in love with Lando Norris and had been since the moment they’d met more than three years ago.
Lily was sweet and kind and beautiful, but she was not stupid. Like most of the people in Oscar’s life, save the man sitting across from him now, Lily had become attuned to the fact that Oscar would do anything for Lando. A fact that went beyond what any normal best friend or roommate might be willing to do.
So when Lily had sat him down on his bed two years ago and told him that she was ending things, it wasn’t with anger, it was instead with a sad smile. She’d brushed his hair from his eyes, cupping his cheek as she spoke to him, always more kind than he deserved.
‘You know why, Oscar,’ she’d said. ‘ And it isn’t fair to either of us to pretend that this might work when your heart has and will always belong to someone else.’
He wasn’t surprised and she had been right, after all. But he certainly couldn’t tell Lando that, so instead he’d just told him some baldfaced lie about being incompatible.
None of that changed the fact that Oscar didn’t want to spend his very little free time chasing some mediocre sexual experience or watching Lando flit about the club, flirting with everything that moved. It was bad enough that he’d hear about it in the morning, or through the wall at 3am while Oscar desperately tried to pretend he couldn’t.
“Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t even tell me about it? I’m supposed to be your best friend, mate. Friends tell each other embarrassing sex stories and frankly, I feel like I’m pulling your weight here.”
Oscar laughed then. “Well, I’m sorry if not everyone has had an attempted threesome end with a trip to the emergency room.”
Lando pointed at him. “This is a no judgment zone, Oscar, and I refuse to be slut shamed by you.”
“Well, I’m feeling a little bit judged right now,” Oscar said, smirking. “And I’m glad that you can finally admit that you’re a slut. I know that must have been difficult for you.”
Lando narrowed his eyes, “Stop changing the subject.”
“There’s no subject to change, Lando. My sex life is private. I’ve never been much of a sharer that way and you know that. Even with Lily, I wasn’t telling you all the gory details,” he said.
“I didn’t need to get the gory details because I could hear them,” Lando said. “And from what I could tell, you’re very good, so what’s the problem?”
Oscar groaned, dragging his hands across his face. He didn’t need the reminder that Lando had heard him having sex on more than one occasion. “There is no problem. I’m fine. I’d just rather stay here and relax. Maybe play games or watch a movie.”
“Come on,” Lando whined, scooting a bit closer. He placed a large hand on Oscar’s bare ankle, shaking it. “You’re young and hot and damn smart, Osc. There’s plenty of girls out there who’d love to get on it. Please come with me.”
Oscar threw his head back toward the ceiling, screwing his eyes shut.
He wasn’t going to cave. Not even with Lando looking at him with pleading blue-green eyes, a hopeful smile on his face. Not even after Lando called him hot, not that that was the first time that had happened either. He was hot, but he was also just Oscar.
Just Oscar, who was always there to pick up after Lando’s messes and let him in when he forgot his keys. Just Oscar, who laid with him on the sofa and made dinner for two every night, knowing damn well that Lando couldn’t so much as fry an egg without adult supervision. Just Oscar, whose hoodies he stole and bed he laid in each and every day, without giving a second thought to the intimacy of either thing. Just Oscar, who was a damned fool, hopelessly in love with the one person he couldn’t have.
Who was he kidding?
“Fine,” Oscar said. “I’ll go.”
Lando’s smile was sunshine and warm tea, softness and casual touches.
It made Oscar feel a bit sick, drunk on it.
“But I’m not letting you pick my outfit,” Oscar said.
-
He ended up letting Lando pick his outfit.
Before they’d left, he’d stood in front of Oscar in the outfit he’d picked for himself, some variation of his normal t-shirt and jeans combination, assessing it with narrowed eyes. He’d had him spin around once before letting out a disgusted noise and making a beeline for Oscar’s closet, shouting orders to strip.
So now he stood inside of a club with Lando Norris, in a tight-fitted black shirt and a pair of straight-legged trousers that he’d never worn after Lando had hassled him into buying them over a year ago.
In all honesty, he didn’t really know how these things happened. The amount of power that Lando unknowingly held over him was dangerous. It was exactly how he ended up in situations like this: uncomfortable in his clothes, with unfamiliar, sweaty bodies pressed against his as he shoved his way to the bar to order a beer.
He mussed a hand through his hair without realizing it and Lando smacked it away with his own. “Stop that,” he said. “It looked good the way it was.”
Oscar felt sick at the feeling that bloomed in his chest.
He wriggled into an opening by the bar, resting his forearms on the sticky wood, trying to catch the eye of the bartender currently making two vodka-crans for girls who looked way too old to still be ordering them.
“You look good, Osc,” Lando said, voice hot against his ear. And god, Oscar fought against the urge to shudder. “I can hear you worrying from here. Girls will be tripping over themselves to sleep with you. That one’s already making eyes at you.”
Oscar followed Lando’s sightline to a girl in a skin-tight black skirt standing by the end of the bar with a group of her friends. She was looking at Oscar with a small smile on her face, eyes raking over his frame greedily. She was pretty, with long blonde hair and wide blue eyes. Maybe on another night, when Lando’s body wasn’t slotted so closely to his, he’d go over and say hello. Right now, all he wanted was to turn his head and press his lips against Lando’s, to bury his fingers in his soft, perfectly coiled curls, but he couldn’t. And because he couldn’t, or perhaps just because he knew Lando, and how relentless he could be when he wanted to, Oscar tossed a warm smile her way, lifting his hand in a half-hearted wave.
“There you go, mate,” Lando said, his voice low.
Oscar’s breath caught in his throat, but fortunately before he could respond, the bartender came over to take their order.
By the time they got back to their friends and settled at the booth, Lando had fortunately forgotten about the girl at the bar, however, he had eyed up about ten different people in their fifty-metre journey, most of whom were openly gaping at him as well. That wasn’t really surprising. Lando was the type of beautiful that made people stop in their tracks and simply admire. Oscar was in no place to judge; he was certainly guilty of doing so on more than one occasion.
“See,” Oscar said, taking a sip of his beer. “You don’t need a wingman.”
“Is that how he convinced you to come out tonight, then?” Charles asked, a smile playing on his lips. His arm was thrown over the back of the booth behind Max, fingers toying with the sleeve of Max’s shirt mindlessly.
“Mhm,” Oscar said. “Something about him needing to get laid.”
“Well, that’s just untrue,” Lando said, flicking Oscar’s shoulder. “We’re trying to get you laid, Osc. For all I know, you’ve become a monk.”
Carlos and Charles both snorted, not even trying to hide it, whilst Max just raised a brow at Oscar.
“We’ve already been over this, Lando,” he said. “I’m not a monk and I’m perfectly fine as I am.”
“Yeah, well, you might be, but I’m sick of your grumpy arse so here we are. Mission: Get Oscar Laid,” Lando said, holding his hands up as though he’d had some brilliant idea.
Logan had slid into the booth beside Oscar sometime during his and Lando’s squabbling and chose now as the time to interject into the conversation.
“I second that. You’re wound tighter than a fucking clock, Piastri. It might do you some good to get out there, let off some steam, sample the waters,” he said, knowingly.
Oscar pinched Logan's outer thigh under the table, but Logan just kicked him right back.
Oscar sighed and took another sip of his beer, ignoring the both of them.
He knew what Logan was doing, but he also knew he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Though he was sure at least one or two of his friends had noticed, Logan was pretty much the only person who Oscar had outwardly spoken to about his crush on Lando and, despite being good friends with the latter, Logan was of the opinion that Lando was never going to be able to reciprocate Oscar’s feelings and that he needed to get over it. Or, in his opinion, get under someone else.
It wasn’t like Oscar hadn’t tried. He tried to make it work with Lily for the better part of a year, tried with half a dozen other people in the time after, but nothing had changed. If anything, it just made him ache for the connection he felt while doing even the most mundane things with Lando. The fact that he’d rather be out grocery shopping with Lando than getting his dick sucked by any person in this club was a concerning, but very real problem in Oscar’s life.
He knew Logan was right though, even if his methods were a bit askew.
Oscar sat mostly quietly as his friends chattered about their lives, both academic and romantic. He tossed in a few sarcastic comments here and there, polishing off the rest of his beer and drinking half of another. His friends trickled in and out, some out to the dance floor, others to get a drink or catch up with friends. A couple of girls came over to chat, but nothing much came of it, aside from the odd smile or appreciating stare. It was comfortable, familiar, and the feeling of Lando’s thigh pressed close to his brought a vaguely concerning sense of calm over his body.
But of course, that couldn’t last because it never did. So three drinks later, when Lando smacked his hands against the table, he couldn’t even really be surprised.
“I’m gonna go out there,” Lando said, nodding toward the dance floor, now packed with bodies. He pushed one finger into Oscar’s shoulder. “You should come, Osc. I can see at least three people checking you out right now.”
Oscar shook his head, tipping back the rest of his beer into his mouth.
“I’m a terrible dancer, Lando,” he said.
Lando sighed dramatically, knocking back the rest of his drink before sliding past Oscar and out of the booth. “Okay, suit yourself, mate.”
Oscar watched as Lando disappeared into the crowd, eyes trailing his frame until he was gone, practically swallowed up by the crowd of people he’d wandered into.
“Mate,” Logan said, tapping his foot against Oscar’s.
He didn’t look at his friend, eyes still drawn to the crowd of people to his left. He didn’t want to see the pitying look he knew was on Logan’s face.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, a tinge of sadness to his voice. “Pathetic.”
“Not pathetic,” Logan said, tipping his drink between Oscar and the crowd. “A little hopeless, but not pathetic.”
Oscar groaned, forcing his eyes away from the crowd and back to the table. Half their group had gone out to the dance floor by now, leaving Oscar with just Logan, Max, Charles, and about two dozen abandoned glasses and bottles.
He chatted with Logan for a while until he was pulled away by someone he knew from class, and soon went back to watching the crowd as he tried to pretend Max and Charles weren’t making out across from him. He’d long run out of beer and any buzz he’d had going had worn off at least a half an hour ago when he caught a glimpse of familiar curls amongst the fray.
And sure enough, there was Lando, his body pressed close to a stunning brunette, his large hands wrapped around her small waist. He’d opened up the top few buttons on his shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His head was thrown back as he moved to the music, the tanned column of his throat exposed to the neon lights from above, a sheen of sweat coating his body in an ethereal glow.
Oscar watched as the girl leaned in closer, wrapping her arms around his neck to whisper something in his ear. Lando laughed at whatever she had said and Oscar could practically hear the distinct sound through all the noise, though he knew that was impossible. Lando pulled back slightly, moving his hand from her waist to tilt her chin up to look at him properly. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, his mouth moving to say something probably sinful before pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss filled with tequila and filthy promises.
Oscar felt a pang in his chest and forced himself to look away before he could hurt himself more than he already had tonight. It was far from the first time he’d seen Lando kissing someone. Hell, he’d walked into their flat to find Lando fucking someone in their living room on more than one occasion, but it didn’t make the sting any less. He didn’t know why he did this to himself, why he chose to put himself through it time and time again when the only possible outcome was heartbreak.
He stood from the table suddenly, rattling a few glasses as he did so, mumbling something about going to the bathroom to Max and Charles, who were far too engrossed in each other to even realize that Oscar was still sitting there, let alone that he’d left.
He tried his best not to look in Lando’s direction as he made his way across the club, pushing his way through sweaty bodies, only barely succeeding. But because it was simply not Oscar’s night, he’d made it halfway to the washroom when he’d caught a different familiar eye, standing along the back wall in a baby blue dress, a long arm draped across her shoulders.
Lily .
He’d hoped that maybe she hadn’t seen him, or might have let him by with his dignity still intact even if she did, but she called him over with a small wave and a genuine smile. She was always too nice to him, even now.
“Oscar,” she said, not without affection.
“Hey, Lily,” he said, forcing a smile to his face. “It’s been a bit.”
“Oscar, this is my boyfriend, John,” she said, leaning further into the embrace of the man standing beside her. “John, this is Oscar. We used to go out a few years ago.”
“Hey, mate,” Oscar said, holding out his hand to take John’s.
“Hey,” John said, a tight, but friendly smile on his face. “You’re from Australia, right?”
Oscar nodded. “Yeah, but I’ve been here for about seven years now.”
“That’s cool, man,” he said.
He doubted John actually thought so, but Oscar wanted to get out of there before John’s patience wore out and he fully processed the fact that his girlfriend’s ex was standing in front of him. He seemed nice enough, but it wasn’t in Oscar’s best interest to continue this interaction, or any other, for the rest of the night.
“Good to see you, Lily,” Oscar said, trying to excuse himself.
Before he could turn away, Lily grabbed at his wrist, long fingernails grazing his pulsepoint. “Actually, Oscar. I wanted to talk to you for a second, if that’s okay.”
Oscar sighed, resigning himself to his fate. “Sure.”
She dropped Oscar’s wrist and turned back to John, smiling sweetly at him. “Could you go get me another drink? I’ll meet you over there in a second, I promise.”
John looked warily from Oscar to Lily and back. “Yeah, of course.”
She pulled him down for a quick kiss, whispering something probably reassuring into his ear before John disappeared into the crowd toward the bar.
She waited until he was out of earshot before she spoke.
“You still haven’t told him, have you?” she asked, not unkindly.
Oscar’s head shot up at that, turning around to make sure Lando was nowhere within hearing range of this conversation. Fortunately (or maybe not), he was still on the dance floor, his lips occupied with the girl’s neck, slowly trailing his mouth toward her jaw, one hand along the side of her throat. Oscar forced his eyes back to Lily, who watched him knowingly.
“Lily,” he said, shaking his head.
“Of course you didn’t,” she said, sighing. “You’re only hurting yourself, Oscar.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks for that,” he said.
This was a conversation he’d had countless times with Logan, one that circled round and round in his head on nights like these. His life would be so much simpler without this, without the crushing weight of his feelings toward Lando. He might have been hopeless, but he was also keenly self aware.
Lily placed a hand on Oscar’s forearm. “We may not be together anymore, but I do still care about you enough not to let you keep doing this to yourself.”
“Lily,” he said. “He’s my best mate. He’s my fucking roommate . I can’t just go out and ruin that just because I’d rather be more. It’s selfish of me and it’s not fair to him, since he clearly doesn’t feel the same.”
He glanced again to the dance floor, where Lando was still busy making out with the girl, her hands buried in the curls at his nape.
“This isn’t fair to you,” Lily said. “You’ve been making yourself miserable over this for years now. Either you should tell him and find some closure or move on. You can’t keep going on in life desperately trying to pick up the scraps of affection that Lando throws at you. It’s not fair, Oscar. You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who is capable of loving you back.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather have him like this than lose him entirely,” Oscar said, pulling his arm away from her touch.
“But wouldn’t you rather know for certain? You guys are close, practically inseparable. If there’s even a small part of you that thinks that maybe he could feel the same, wouldn’t you like to know?”
He tried to think of a world where he told Lando the truth, one where he laid out his most vulnerable desires on a platter and begged Lando not to destroy him. It wasn’t that he thought Lando would be unsympathetic. Underneath all his sarcasm and bravado, Lando was one of the kindest people that Oscar knew. But the fact remained that Lando didn’t love him in that way and Oscar’s confession would drive a wedge in their relationship that he knew that they’d never recover from. It just simply wasn’t worth it, to ruin what they had over Oscar’s stupid feelings.
“It’s just not worth it,” he said.
“Oscar-” Lily started again.
Oscar dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Lily, I appreciate the concern. I really do,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I just can’t do this. Not now. Not with you.”
Lily only nodded. “Okay.”
With that, Oscar left, finally making his way to the washroom before he could encounter anyone else who had an opinion on his love life, or lack thereof.
-
He left the club soon after without much fanfare, just a tap to Logan’s shoulder and walked home in silence, trying to push the night’s events from his brain unsuccessfully.
Lily was right and so was Logan, not that he would tell either of them that he thought so. Oscar had been slowly hurting himself, his heart slowly bleeding for someone who wasn’t capable of loving him back for the last three years with no end in sight.
When he finally lay in his bed that night, in the sheets that still smelled of Lando’s cologne from earlier that morning, desperately trying to drown out the unmistakable noises coming from the room next door, he thought about what Lily had said, what he himself had known for a long time. This was unsustainable and it was only a matter of time before it finally broke him. He couldn’t go on like this for much longer.
He had to get over Lando Norris, even if it killed him.
Chapter 2: these things eat at your bones and drive your young mind crazy
Summary:
And Oscar tried, as he had countless times, to imagine a world where this was how it could be for the rest of their lives. Just the two of them, irreparably tied together to the point where Oscar no longer knew whose socks he’d put in the washing, where he cooked to Lando’s strange and picky habits without even a second thought. Where he could sleep in the comfort of Lando’s embrace, the heat of his breath against his hair. Where Oscar could walk up behind Lando as he stood in the kitchen and wrap his arms around the other man’s waist, pressing his lips to his jaw and Lando would hum contentedly, muttering some odd complaint about something trivial that probably didn’t really matter.
It could be so easy, he knew.
But that wasn’t the world they lived in, so Oscar resolved himself to get over it, to get over Lando once and for all.
Notes:
Thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter!! <3
So, I'm back way sooner than expected, but I was just a little too excited/nervous to get this chapter out there.
However, I probably won't update for a week after this, since I have some editing to do still and some personal stuff to deal with as well lol! I'll try to hold myself accountable and say I'll try and have it out by the day after the dutch gp but no solid promises!
The next chapter after this one is a Lando POV so get excited LOL
Once again, please do not share rpf outside of fandom spaces!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The problem with trying to get over Lando was that he was everywhere, even when he wasn’t around.
That, he supposed, was the problem with falling in love with your roommate, especially one as close as he and Lando were. They were practically inseparable most days, falling in and out of each other’s orbits in a practiced ease. Even when they weren’t together at the flat, their belongings and habits had become so irrevocably entwined that sometimes he forgot what it was like to live without him. It had been that way for years now, and honestly, Oscar didn’t know how to separate the two of them without losing a large part of himself in the process.
He wished he could say it hadn’t always been so simple between them, so comfortable to concede his space to Lando, to tangle their legs together on the sofa as they argued over what to watch on the telly, to work on his assignments as Lando napped in Oscar’s bed. But the truth was, it had. It was part of what had made it so easy to fall in love with Lando, despite all the squabbling and the bullshit. Lando had slipped so easily into Oscar’s life, quieting the parts of himself he often didn’t like with a bump of his shoulder and a fond whisper of ‘Osc’ .
It was a wholly different relationship than he had with any of his other friends. Logan was his oldest friend by far, but even they didn’t share the kind of closeness that Oscar felt with Lando. It was different, somehow.
Before Lando, Oscar had been fine, really. His life had been fine. A bit boring, maybe, but he was still boring. He hadn’t thought that anything was missing until he’d met Lando, until the first time he’d made Lando laugh, like really laugh .
Since then, over time, slow considerations had wormed their way into his habits, slotting into his routine without much notice, without disruption. Now, he didn’t know how to be without Lando, didn’t know how not to be LandoandOscar . They were best friends, roommates, and something entirely undefinable. They were one thought, one word, one breath, and Oscar had long since given up trying to find where he ended and Lando began.
They had become so attuned to each other’s presence over the years, making concessions to one another without even realizing it. They relied on each other more than maybe they should, something that was certainly true for Lando who couldn’t keep his head on straight most of the time, let alone remember his keys or do the shopping. Hell, Oscar didn’t eat salmon anymore because Lando made such a drama out of it the few times he’d tried that he’d deemed it no longer worth it.
And was that kind of codependence healthy? Probably not for either of them, least of all Oscar. But it was comfortable and familiar and sometimes rewarded him with the weight of Lando’s head against his shoulder or a soft, private smile he knew was only for him. He’d been living off those scraps for so long that when they came, it felt like a Christmas feast.
Their whole flat was filled with him, with both of them. Even Oscar’s own room, littered mostly with coursework and Formula 1 memorabilia, bore hints of Lando’s presence (usually a stray sock, his headphones, or a hoodie). And Oscar tried, as he had countless times, to imagine a world where this was how it could be for the rest of their lives. Just the two of them, irreparably tied together to the point where Oscar no longer knew whose socks he’d put in the washing, where he cooked to Lando’s strange and picky habits without even a second thought. Where he could sleep in the comfort of Lando’s embrace, the heat of his breath against his hair. Where Oscar could walk up behind Lando as he stood in the kitchen and wrap his arms around the other man’s waist, pressing his lips to his jaw and Lando would hum contentedly, muttering some odd complaint about something trivial that probably didn’t really matter.
It could be so easy, he knew.
But that wasn’t the world they lived in, so Oscar resolved himself to get over it, to get over Lando once and for all.
-
The morning after the club, when Lando padded out of his room with no girl in sight, Oscar let out a small sigh of relief. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been forced to make small talk with one of Lando’s hookups, but if he could avoid it, he’d rather not have to converse with someone after he’d heard them moaning the night before. No matter who it was, it made for an awkward interaction.
Lando looked soft and bed-warm, curls in disarray after last night’s activities and the hours of sleep that followed. He still had pillow marks on his cheekbone and Oscar’s fingers twitched with the urge to run his fingers along the lines. He wondered, absently, how it would feel against his skin, if Lando would lean into the touch. He couldn’t help but notice that Lando was wearing his hoodie again, the hem falling just below the line of his boxers. It always made Oscar’s brain go a little bit fuzzy when he did that, scratching some far-off possessive part of his brain.
“Morning, Osc,” he said, his voice just a bit hoarse, the way it always was in the morning.
“Good night?” Oscar asked, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his tea.
Lando sent him a coy smile as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “Eh, it was alright. She was moaning like a bloody pornstar. Kind of ruined the vibe a bit.”
I know , Oscar thought.
It’d gone on long enough through the night that Oscar had needed to put on a pair of headphones in order to get any kind of sleep. It was as loud as it was unbelievable, and though he was sure Lando was good in bed, it was just a little too egregious for Oscar to handle last night or any other.
“Uh huh, sure.” Oscar said, sliding into a chair. “Regardless, it seems you didn’t need a wingman after all.”
Lando snorted, pouring himself a glass of water and drinking the entire thing down in one go. Oscar focused intently on the mug in his hands, trying not to track the way Lando’s throat moved as he drank, nor pay mind to the mottled bruises that marred his tanned skin.
He tried to ignore the jealousy that burned in his chest, an angry, shameful thing. Lando wasn’t his and he never would be, so there was, frankly, no reason to be jealous, especially not of some girl that Lando would likely never see or speak to again, considering he hadn’t allowed her to even stay the night. But it didn’t stop the feeling from clawing its way up his chest and into his throat.
“ You clearly do,” he said, pointing a finger at Oscar. “Mission: Get Oscar Laid isn’t something I take lightly, but you don’t make it easy. How are you supposed to find anyone if you sit in the booth all night talking to Logan.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, thinking back to last night. To the way Lando’s body had looked, pressed against the girl’s, to the pity clouding Lily’s eyes.
“I’ve got plenty of options, mate. I’m fine on my own,” Oscar said.
Lando made a disbelieving noise, poking his head into their mostly empty fridge. “Speaking of, I saw you talking to Lily last night. Is that happening again?”
Oscar’s stomach turned unpleasantly. He’d thought Lando had been too preoccupied to notice that interaction, to notice how Oscar’s eyes kept drifting toward him as he swayed on the dancefloor, his body moving alongside the girl’s.
He huffed out a laugh. Lando didn’t know how wrong he was and Oscar certainly wasn’t going to tell him what Lily had really wanted to speak to him about. He was more than happy to let him believe quite literally anything other than the truth.
“No,” he said. “She just wanted to catch up a bit. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. Introduced me to her new boyfriend.”
Lando closed the fridge empty-handed, throwing Oscar a strange look. “That’s a little fucked up, don’t you think?”
Oscar shook his head.
That, by far, was the least uncomfortable part of his run-in with Lily.
“It’s fine. He seemed like a nice bloke, all things considered.” He took a sip of his too-hot tea. “Besides, I wasn’t looking to get back with her anyway. We ended things for a reason.”
Lando hummed as he made his way to the snack cupboard, brushing his fingers against the back of Oscar’s arm. “If you say so, Osc.”
After a moment of contemplative silence, Lando flopped into the chair beside Oscar, throwing his feet across his lap.
“We’ve got no food, mate,” he said dramatically. “This is desperate.”
Oscar nodded, making a half-hearted attempt to push Lando’s legs back to the floor, but the other man simply dug his heels in, crossing his ankles in an attempt to get more comfortable. “Yeah, I know.”
Lando reached over, pulling Oscar’s mug from his fingers and taking a sip.
He wrinkled his nose in a way Oscar tried not to find endearing. “Ugh, Oscar. This isn’t nearly sweet enough.”
Oscar stole it back from him, flicking Lando’s cheek. “My tea preferences haven’t changed in the last three years. I don’t know why you expected it to be any different.”
Lando crossed his arms over his chest, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling lights. “It’s not my fault you’ve got bad taste.”
Oscar snorted. “It’s not my fault everything you drink has to be filled with about a hundred sugars. One day, your teeth are going to fall out of your head.”
“I like it much better when you’re drinking hot chocolate,” Lando said.
Oscar snorted. “You would.”
“Spare me the lecture,” Lando said. “I’m starved. I’m going to keel over if I don’t get something to eat in the next fifteen minutes.”
Oscar sighed fondly, “There’s a Greggs’ sausage roll in the bottom drawer of the fridge. I was saving it for myself, but if the situation is that desperate, I guess you can have it.”
Lando shot up straight in his chair, leaning over to smack a wet kiss against Oscar’s cheek. “Ugh, fucking mint , Oscar. I love you. Have I told you how much I love you lately?”
Lando stood, rushing to the fridge before Oscar could really process what had happened. His fingers found his cheek, wiping at the dampness left against his morning stubble. It was moments like this that often hurt the most, the casual touches that left his skin scorching, the loose language that felt both like a slap to the face and a balm to his aching heart.
Lando was so cruel sometimes, even if he didn’t know it.
“Yeah,” Oscar said, softly. “Love you too, mate.”
-
Over the next few weeks, life continued in the way it had for the last three years.
When Oscar wasn’t working on his coursework until it felt like his brain was melting out of his head, he was spending his free time with Lando, watching whatever trashy television show Lando had chosen on the sofa, cooking while Lando pretended to be helpful by simply getting out of the way, arguing about what kind of milk to buy at the grocery store.
Sometimes, even when he was working on his coursework, Lando kept him company, babbling along about something or other while Oscar tried to parse out a difficult sum or string a competent sentence together. He never seemed to mind that Oscar wasn’t really listening, responding only with occasional hums or one word answers. He seemed to just like that Oscar was there, that he could exist comfortably in his space without being asked to leave.
Lando didn’t really like being alone, Oscar knew. He was a very social person and often struggled to sit in his own head for too long before things got too loud, too real. Generally, Oscar liked being the person that Lando turned to when it got like that, the one he sought out late at night or defaulted to in the interest of convenience or whatever else. He certainly never minded the company, especially from Lando, but it did make it exponentially more difficult for his efforts to finally get over his feelings when he was always within reaching distance, always doing things or looking at him in a way that made Oscar question if maybe he was wrong in his endeavor and if he should just walk right up and kiss him, just to see what Lando would do if he did. But he couldn’t say no, not when Lando looked at him like that, smiled at him with pleading eyes and gapped teeth. He’d never been very good at saying no, not to Lando.
Like just now, with the two of them settled on the sofa in their living room, flicking through streaming services as they aimlessly tried to figure out what to watch. It was a dance they did at least three times a week, but the decision never seemed to get any easier. Oscar sat slumped across the left side of the sofa, and despite the space he’d left on the other side, Lando had immediately settled with his head against Oscar’s thigh, toying with the edge of his shorts with idle fingers.
It had to have been intentional. He had to know he was driving Oscar insane, that the feeling of his breath against his leg hair sent a jolt of electricity straight to his insides. It was a miracle he wasn’t hard yet, his dick only centimetres from Lando’s head. He chalked it up to his being used to Lando’s behavior by now.
Despite what his elevated heartbeat told him, Oscar knew it didn’t mean anything. Lando was a very tactile person, something he’d become very familiar with in the time that they’d lived together. A brush of fingers against his back, a tug at his hand, a head against his shoulder had all become commonplace a long time ago, but this was toeing the line between casual and heartbreakingly intimate.
“Just pick something,” Lando whined, tugging at the hem of Oscar’s shorts.
Oscar sighed, shifting slightly. “We both know that you’re going to groan and complain about whatever I choose anyway, so why even bother?”
Lando gasped in mock disbelief. “I would never.”
Oscar reached out and smacked Lando’s forehead lightly, fingertips grazing his curls.
“Sure, arsehole.”
He clicked around with the remote through the television section for the next fifteen minutes, hovering over a few series to varying degrees of disapproval from Lando, who was splitting his attention between Oscar’s plight and texting Max Fewtrell. If he was going to be so opinionated, Oscar didn’t know why he couldn’t dedicate his full attention to it. But that was Lando, and Oscar couldn’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed.
He tossed the remote onto Lando’s chest. “I give up. By the time you finally approve one of my choices, we’ll both be half asleep already.”
“Yeah, well,” Lando said, reaching blindly behind him in an attempt to pass the remote back to Oscar who just pressed it further into his hand. “It’s going to be the same result if I pick something. We both know it.”
Oscar snorted. “I’ll probably hate it, but at least I won’t whinge about it like you will, so put on whatever reality show I know you’re itching to watch and I’ll just deal.”
Lando lifted his head off Oscar’s leg and smiled hopefully. “Really?”
Oscar’s heart squeezed at the excitement in Lando’s eyes.
How could he deny Lando anything if it meant that he would look at him like that?
“Yeah,” he said, resigned to his fate. “Go for it.”
Lando dropped his head back onto Oscar’s thigh harder than strictly necessary, immediately clicking onto a show that Oscar knew would make both of them lose whatever collective brain cells they had left. He shoved a handful of crisps into his mouth before passing the bag over to Lando, who made a delighted noise.
As promised, he didn’t complain and even paid mild attention to the program. He listened idly while Lando explained how the show worked and what was going on at any given moment between chewing on his crisps, gesturing wildly and saying things like, ‘I cannot fucking believe that he just did that. Oscar, can you believe he did that?’
He still didn’t really understand what was going on because Lando was kind of shit at explaining things, but it didn’t really matter. It was enough to just sit there and know that Lando was enjoying it so thoroughly. Though he could only see half his face, Oscar tried to make out the facial expressions that Lando made as he watched, his nose crinkling in utter shock or judgment at any given moment. In complete honesty, he had probably spent more time watching Lando than he did watching the actual show, laughing at his over-the-top reactions, eyes sparkling with something akin to affection.
Here, in their little two-bedroom flat, Oscar could allow himself to pretend that he could have Lando like this. He itched to card his fingers through Lando’s curls, to settle against his scalp and hear him hum in contentment at the touch, the way Oscar was sure that he would. The thing was, Lando probably wouldn’t even find it weird. It was too easy, too dangerous a thought, as he lie there with Lando’s head pillowed against his thigh, his fingers absently stroking his leg like it was fucking normal, like it didn’t mean anything. Because to him, it didn’t.
To Oscar, it was everything; everything he wanted, everything he couldn't have, so tantalizingly close that he could taste it, graze it with his fingertips without ever truly grasping hold of it.
Notes:
Ahhh Oscar is such a simp and Lando is such a tease even if he doesn't know it hahahah
Please leave comments and kudos and let me know if you liked this chapter it would mean the world since I'm still a bit insecure about this fic 😅
Chapter 3: it'll be fine by dusk light, i'm tellin' you, baby
Summary:
Oscar was always doing things for him: letting him in when he forgot his keys, making him dinner each night without being asked, editing his essays for him because Lando’s dyslexia made it difficult to parse through errors, doing his washing alongside his own because he knew that Lando hated it. It was care beyond anything anyone had done for him before Oscar, and now, he’d come to rely on him more than he probably even realized. It was unfair, in a way.
It made Lando feel selfish. He was constantly taking, taking, taking and never giving anything in return but aggravation and the occasional laugh. He took advantage of Oscar’s every kindness and he couldn’t help but feel like he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Not for the first time, Lando wondered how he’d gotten so lucky to have Oscar, to know that he was by his side. He was far better than Lando and certainly more than he deserved. Not for the first time, Lando thought how lucky anyone would be to have him.
Notes:
I'm back and with a lando pov???? hell yeah man
I'm a little bit later than I said I'd be for this chapter but I had a very, very busy weekend and it's just starting to wind down now and I'm starting to feel like a human who can form coherent thoughts again!
no discussions about zandvoort to be had, got it? all nice and friendly stuff in the comments lol
I'm working on editing the next chapter so hopefully it'll be out within the week (maybe around monza but maybe a little bit afterward?) but don't hold me to that 100%. I'm trying to keep it consistent though.
thank you all for the love you've shown for the first two chapters of this little fic!!! I love you all!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Shit,” Lando said, casting his eyes to the ceiling of the empty hallway pleadingly.
He patted his pockets for the third time in two minutes, as though his keys might have appeared out of thin air sometime in the last forty-five seconds.
They still weren’t there, because, of course they weren’t.
It was late, he knew. He’d had a DJ set tonight during prime time at one of the local clubs, and, at the persistence of Carlos, had gone home with a guy he’d met on the dancefloor afterward. All and all, it wasn’t a bad night, despite the fact that he could feel the remnants of dried cum on his stomach.
Though he’d begged him to come out, Oscar had stayed home as he almost always did, claiming he needed sleep more than he cared to stand body-to-body with drunken strangers. Generally, Lando understood why, since clubs weren’t really Oscar’s scene and Lando was sure he’d already pushed his luck on Oscar’s clubgoing quota this semester, but he still wished he’d come to listen. He always liked it when Oscar came out with him, especially when he had a set, even if he refused to dance and usually stopped drinking after three or four beers.
At least then, if he’d come, Lando would have gotten Oscar out of the house. Maybe then, it would have stopped Lando from leaving to have mediocre sex in some guy’s shitty studio apartment, or, he could have even tried his hand at playing wingman for Oscar for a change. Mission: Get Oscar Laid was near impossible if the man in question spent his Friday nights playing FIFA alone in his bedroom, which Lando was almost certain was what he’d been doing. He was predictable like that. Regardless, Oscar’s decision to be anti-social had meant that he didn’t have his set of keys to fall back on if (when) Lando had forgotten his at home.
It wasn’t like Oscar hadn’t reminded him to take his keys when he’d left earlier. He always reminded him, and most of the time, it was enough to make Lando remember to slip them into his pocket or his rucksack before leaving, but sometime between his hasty dinner of chicken and rice, three outfit changes, and the moment he’d walked out the door that evening, he’d forgotten to take them and he was, once again, locked out.
It wasn’t exactly surprising, since this kind of thing happened at least once a week, even if it was usually at a slightly more decent hour. By now, Oscar had gotten used to this, along with the rest of Lando’s vaguely irritating idiosyncrasies. But it didn’t stop Lando from feeling badly about it, especially considering how often this happened.
It was late, way too late to be waking Oscar up when he knew how little sleep he’d gotten in the last week whilst revising for an exam, but it wasn’t exactly like Lando could sleep in the hallway. (He’d done that once when he’d been too drunk to care and he’d been woken up by security after one of their neighbors had complained, thinking he was an intoxicated loiterer.) He was tipsy still from the tequila shots and three vodka Red Bulls he’d drank at the bar earlier in the night, but not nearly enough so to consider a repeat performance of that night. It left him with few appealing options.
He knew he should have just stayed at his hookup’s place, some photography student named Peter who’d sidled up to him after his set, but the sex had been lackluster enough without adding a morning, slightly-hungover walk of shame to the mix. Besides, he’d made a few too many borderline alarming comments about photographing Lando whilst balls-deep inside of him for Lando to feel comfortable about falling asleep anywhere near him.
Lando generally had poor taste and was typically regarded as having no shame when it came to sex, but he still had some morals for god’s sake. He wasn’t entirely debased, even if he slightly was. Which meant that he had no other option than to knock on the door loudly and face a sleep-addled Oscar. He could already picture the exhausted resignation on his face, the way his eyebrows would pinch together in both sympathy and annoyance. It was too familiar and it made Lando’s stomach twist with guilt.
It wasn’t like Oscar was going to be angry at him or anything. At least, not any more so than he typically was when someone woke him out of a dead sleep, but Lando still felt badly about it. Oscar was always doing things for him: letting him in when he forgot his keys, making him dinner each night without being asked, editing his essays for him because Lando’s dyslexia made it difficult to parse through errors, doing his washing alongside his own because he knew that Lando hated it. It was care beyond anything anyone had done for him before Oscar, and now, he’d come to rely on him more than he probably even realized. It was unfair, in a way.
It made Lando feel selfish. He was constantly taking, taking, taking and never giving anything in return but aggravation and the occasional laugh. He took advantage of Oscar’s every kindness and he couldn’t help but feel like he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Not for the first time, Lando wondered how he’d gotten so lucky to have Oscar, to know that he was by his side. He was far better than Lando and certainly more than he deserved. Not for the first time, Lando thought how lucky anyone would be to have him. Privately, he still thought Lily was a fool for letting him go.
But right now, Lando didn’t really have a choice but to be selfish. So, he steeled himself as much as he could at three-thirty in the morning, swaying slightly on his feet as he did. He brought his fist to the door and knocked loudly four times before burrowing his hands into his woefully empty pockets.
A long moment passed without any sign of stirring on the other side of the door, so after waiting an appropriate amount of time, Lando banged his fist against the door harder, hard enough that at least one of their neighbors had probably heard him and would come running in alarm at any moment.
After about a minute, he heard someone shuffling around inside of the flat, footsteps slow and drowsy. For the first time in his life, Lando was grateful that their walls were as thin as cardboard and that Oscar wasn’t a particularly heavy sleeper.
He heard the lock turn and a moment later, the door opened to reveal Oscar, bed-warmed and rumpled in his boxers and a large t-shirt, hair sticking up at all angles, one cheek reddened where it had rested against his pillow two minutes earlier. It was sort of endearing, in a way. Even after three years, it felt wrong that Lando got to see him like this, guard completely down, stripped away to his barest parts.
Oscar frowned deeply, brown eyes squinting against the fluorescent light of the hallway as he looked Lando up and down.
Lando knew he looked wrecked. For all his reservations about walk-of-shaming out of Peter’s flat in the morning, he sure looked shameful now. He’d barely buttoned half his shirt up before he’d walked his arse out the door and into the cold outdoors, despite the fact that he knew he had more than a few hickeys on his neck and collarbone. To his credit, or maybe because he was just used to Lando being a complete and utter disaster and expected nothing less, Oscar said nothing about it.
Instead, he just sighed, resigned, chest heaving with effort.
Lando tried and failed to ignore the pang of guilt in his chest and offered Oscar a sheepish smile. He hoped he looked as apologetic as he felt, but Oscar just looked at him pitifully, eyes glassy with fatigue.
“You smell like tequila and spunk,” Oscar said, without pretense, his face scrunching up in mild disgust.
Lando marveled, not for the first time, at how utterly Australian Oscar sounded when he was tired, his cadence reverting back to his native accent, long ago trained away through years of boarding school in England. It always felt sort of weirdly intimate, as though Lando were seeing something that very few were privy to. A small gateway into what Oscar might have been like as a child, growing up in Melbourne, before he left his family in pursuit of his dreams of working in Formula 1.
Lando hung his head, sighing deeply. He played with the hem of his button-up, keeping his eyes fixed on one specific button.
Oscar pushed lightly at his shoulder, beckoning his gaze upward.
He put on his best pleading eyes. “‘M sorry, Osc. You’re the best.” he said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Oscar said monotonously, moving aside to allow Lando into the flat. “Thought I reminded you to grab your keys before you left.”
Lando sighed in return. “You did, as always. In fairness, I did grab them, I just changed trousers twice after doing so.”
Oscar hummed. “I expect nothing less.”
“C’mon,” Lando said, gesturing to himself. “A look this good is hard to come by, Osc.”
He thought that he’d mostly sobered up by now, but as he trailed Oscar into the flat, Lando realized he was a bit drunker than he thought. When he leaned down to kick his shoes off, the room spun nauseatingly, not by much but enough so that he lost his footing and had to grab the wall to stop himself from falling over. He wasn’t sloshed or anything, but he was just off-balance enough to throw him.
When he looked up, he saw Oscar watching him with vague amusement, one side of his mouth curled up in the imitation of a lazy smile. Lando’s face flushed a little in embarrassment. He huffed, trying to hide it, shooting Oscar a glare, but the other man paid him no mind.
The flat was dark, lit only by the singular night light they’d put in the hallway after Lando had tripped over his own shoes on his way to the bathroom in the middle of the night two years ago. Instead of simply making an effort to pick up his belongings, which was Oscar’s sensible solution, Lando purchased the light in the hopes that it would prevent any future incidents. To his credit, it had mostly eradicated the issue, something that Oscar only rolled his eyes at whenever Lando mentioned it.
Now, in the dim light, Oscar’s face was shadowed and somehow, he looked softer, more relaxed. His t-shirt was swimming on his frame, the neckline long since stretched out, exposing the column of his throat and collarbone. Even from across the room, Lando could see the twin freckles that adorned the skin there, stark against his pale skin. Oscar leaned against the back of the couch as though standing upright was too much effort in his current half-awake state. It probably was, and Lando didn’t really blame him. He was about fifteen minutes away from falling asleep himself.
Normally, when Lando locked himself out this late into the night, Oscar would just let him inside before crawling directly back into bed, but for some reason, tonight, he lingered, tired eyes watching Lando, arms crossed over his chest.
“Figured you weren’t coming home,” he said, voice hoarse with sleep, rubbing at his left eye with one fist. “Last you told me, you were on your way to that guy’s flat.”
“Yeah, I was,” Lando said.
“What was wrong with this one?” Oscar asked.
Lando shrugged, huffing a laugh.
It was an age-old joke they had about Lando’s tendency to find an inexplicable ick with pretty much every person he hooked up with. According to Max Fewtrell, it was a shameless excuse that Lando used to prevent himself from getting attached to someone, or god forbid, get in a relationship, but Lando just believed he was picky. For one night of fun and shared orgasms, anonymity was more than enough to hold it together, but in the light of day, more often than not, the sobering reality came crashing down at astonishing speed, character flaws and disgusting living habits on full display.
By rule, Lando’s hookups usually fell into one of two categories. The first, the more common of the two, was that Lando would have a good time and be able to last until morning before he felt the urge to cut and run, returning home where Oscar would be waiting with a cup of tea and, more than likely, a hot breakfast he could guilt him into sharing. The second category, which tonight’s endeavor had firmly slotted into, meant that even in his half-drunken state, Lando could identify that this was going nowhere fast. In these instances, he’d duck out before the other person had a chance to initiate a round two, or, more likely, gather themselves after the first. Tonight, he’d barely cleaned himself off properly before running out of Peter’s flat with a cursory, ' thanks, let’s do this again sometime, mate’.
Some of them were just turn offs, like that girl who’d called him ‘daddy’ even after he’d told her it made him uncomfortable (one shower wasn’t enough to make him feel clean afterward), or the guy who’d insisted on narrating the experience like they were subjects in a nature documentary (he’d walked out after sucking the guy’s dick for approximately ninety seconds and called Oscar to come pick him up after he’d walked far enough that he no longer felt like he was going to be sick).
Other times, it was personality quirks, like that guy who he’d thought was perfectly nice and a solid eight out of ten lay until he’d woken up to find out that his living room was filled with five poorly-taxidermied deer heads that he’d proudly stated he’d done himself (he asked the guy for some water and walked out before he’d returned from the kitchen. It hadn’t been his most graceful exit.). Or, there was always the girl who’d asked him about his birth chart while he was eating her out, telling him that, according to the stars, they were soulmates and then called him by her ex-boyfriend’s name not five minutes later (he’d gotten her off, faked an emergency, and had Oscar come get him while he sat on the kerb half a street away).
It wasn’t Lando’s fault that half of these people ended up being weird, regardless of what Max, or anyone else thought. Sure, his drunken self wasn’t always the best judge of character, but it didn’t help that these people just flocked to him, drawn to him like moths to a flame. He suspected it was just the nature of picking up anonymous strangers at a club, that there were going to be a few rotten apples. Maybe more than a few, if his track record was anything to go by, but they weren’t all bad. It didn’t really matter, though, because regardless of how weird they ended up being, most of the time, he got what he wanted out of the situation: a few hours of fun and a much-needed sexual release. That was all he was really looking for. It was just easier that way, with less pretense and no expectations of more . He preferred to just have a pleasurable, sometimes mind-meltingly good time with someone, then go their separate ways in time for Lando to watch TV on the sofa with Oscar.
“Sex was fine, I guess. He didn’t really prep me enough before he stuck it in, but that’s whatever. He was weird, though, mate. Bloke wanted to take pictures of my feet,” he said, shuddering dramatically.
Oscar’s face scrunched in disgust. “Lovely. So not everything you dreamed of, then.”
“Yeah,” Lando said. “Figured I’d get out of there before I either ended up in his personal foot fetish spank bank or uploaded to WikiFeet.”
Oscar laughed, but he yawned about halfway through, the sound muffled through his fist.
Lando frowned. “I really am sorry for waking you up. I didn’t mean to forget my keys.”
Oscar waved him off. “‘T’s fine. Next time, just make sure you’ve got them before you run out the door, yeah?”
It was a bit astounding how, each time, they managed to pretend that this would be the last time Lando did something as dumb as lock himself out, despite both of them knowing better by now. It was a testament to their relationship, to the way that things never seemed to change between them, even as everything else around them did. Oscar was a constant, perhaps the only real constant he had in his life, a strong and steady force by his side.
That meant that, though he knew better by now, he’d continue to remind Lando to do things like take his keys when he left home or pick up his hoodie when he inevitably left it on the floor again, or remind him that, yes , he has an exam on Tuesday. He was there, always willing to pick up the slack when Lando fell short, which was often. Too often . He was silently grateful for it, though. The scrap of hope Oscar still held onto each time he reminded him—like he genuinely believed that Lando might actually become a functioning adult sometime within the next week before the cycle repeated—was endearing, if nothing else.
Lando pulled a face. “I’ll try.”
“Mmhm,” Oscar said.
Thinking that was the end of the conversation, Lando nodded before making his way toward the kitchen. As he opened the cabinets to grab a glass, he heard Oscar’s sock-clad footsteps trailing behind him lazily.
When Lando turned to the sink to fill the glass, he saw Oscar leaning with his back against the counter, arms still crossed over his chest.
Oscar watched silently as Lando filled the glass with water and drank the entire thing down in one go. In the darkness, he couldn’t see the expression in his eyes, but he could practically hear the gears turning in Oscar’s head, the question he wanted to ask, the contents of which were unknown to Lando, on his tongue.
Lando refilled the glass and took a much smaller sip, turning to watch Oscar.
When he spoke, it wasn’t the question that Lando expected, but, then again, he didn’t really know what he was expecting.
“How’d the set go?” he asked.
Lando smiled then, wide and bright, eyes crinkling. “Mega. Crowd was really alive tonight. It’s nice going on at prime time instead of at 8:30, when there’s about ten people in the whole bar and one person on the floor. It was a lot of fun. Good energy.”
“Nice,” Oscar said, nodding slightly. “Proud of you, mate.”
“Wish you could have heard it,” Lando said.
He regretted it the moment it left his mouth. The last thing he wanted was to make Oscar feel guilty. He already felt badly enough about forgetting his keys without making Oscar feel badly about himself. He was more grateful for Oscar than the man himself would ever know, and somehow, Lando always found a way to make him feel like shit, as though he wasn’t enough when it couldn’t be further from the truth. He was more , filling the gaps in Lando’s life before he even knew that something was missing, always putting his wants and needs above his own, doing things like waking up at three in the morning to let his forgetful, waste of a roommate into their flat after he forgot his keys.
Oscar frowned, mouth pulling to one side.
“I’m sorry I missed it,” he said, voice quiet.
Lando shook his head vehemently, stepping forward to grab at Oscar’s wrist, tugging it away from his chest.
Oscar watched him through half-lidded eyes. In the low light, they looked almost black, the warm brown iris fading into the pupils.
“Hey, no,” he said insistently. “It’s alright, mate. Like, of course, I want you there. You’re my best mate, but I also, like, get it? It’s not your thing.”
“Yeah, but it’s your thing, Lando. It matters to you and you wanted me there. I should have made more of an effort,” he said.
Oscar yawned again, but stood up a bit straighter, pulling his arm from Lando’s loose grasp to cross it back over his chest protectively.
“No worries, Osc,” Lando said, offering him a soft smile. “Next time, yeah?”
Oscar gave him a half-hearted smile, inclining his head in a nod.
“Next time,” he said. “I promise.”
Silence hung in the air between them, not uncomfortable, but not exactly comfortable. Lando had fucked it, he knew, so he dealt with awkwardness in the same way he always did: by ignoring it entirely.
He took one last sip of his water glass, depositing it into the sink with a silent promise that he would wash it tomorrow, though he knew for certain that by the time he pulled himself out of bed in the morning, Oscar would have already done so. He really was lucky to have Oscar, even if he didn’t show him so, even if he managed to fuck things up every time he opened his mouth. It was a thankless job, really, but Oscar never complained.
“Alright,” Lando said then, clapping Oscar on the shoulder hard enough to rattle him, his eyes going wide. “I’m absolutely knackered, so I’m headed to bed.”
Oscar nodded again, eyes going heavy once more as he peeled his body away from the counter with more effort than was strictly necessary.
He followed Lando out of the kitchen and into the hall, hesitating for a moment by his bedroom door.
“G’night, Lando,” Oscar said, voice slurring slightly.
From his own doorway, Lando turned to look at Oscar again, offering him a small smile.
“Goodnight, Osc,” he said, before closing the door and falling directly into his bed, the warmth promised there more enticing than the idea of brushing his teeth or changing out of his sweaty clothes.
As he lay there, the world falling away quickly, he felt the same prick of guilt swirling around in his chest, and wondered how in the world he was meant to make it up to Oscar, to repay him for even a fraction of the kindness he’s paid Lando over the last three years and why Oscar put up with it—with him—at all.
Notes:
oh landoooooo
next chapter is an oscar one!!
please, please leave comments and kudos if you liked the chapter/the fic so far!! it really means a lot and your support does absolute wonders in keeping me motivated!! I love chatting with you and I love you all <3
Chapter 4: take me back to us dancin', this wood used to creak
Summary:
Oscar remembered the day he first met Lando as though it were yesterday, even if it felt like an impossibly long time ago. Like, in some cosmic way, Oscar had known him all his life.
-
Or, Lando and Oscar's first meeting
Notes:
I'm back and I'm even early!! I was hoping to get this chapter out just after monza but it was ready early, so I figured I'd just go ahead and post it instead of just sitting on it.
this is a little bit of an introspective chapter from oscar's pov as he reflects on first meeting lando. It's not really plot heavy and is partially set up, but next chapter things will really start to pick up, plot-wise. I just figured it would be nice to give a little insight into their dynamic and how they'd ended up living together in the first place so here it is!
thank you all again for the amount of support I've received on this story so far! I love you all!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Oscar remembered the day he first met Lando as though it were yesterday, even if it felt like an impossibly long time ago. Like, in some cosmic way, Oscar had known him all his life.
The whole thing had been Logan’s fault, really.
A few weeks before they were due to start uni, Logan had told Oscar that his friend, Alex, had an open room in his flat, and that the offer was too good to turn down, despite the fact that the two of them had been planning to find a place together for months. Oscar had been rightly pissed off about the situation, and had iced out Logan for three days because of it. However, on the third day, Logan reached out and told him that Alex had a childhood friend who was still looking for a roommate and that he might be open to renting the room to Oscar.
“He’s a bit much," Alex had said. “But Lando’s great, honestly.”
He’d been quite skeptical, as he didn’t know Alex very well and therefore knew none of his friends, but with little to no other enticing options and it being too late to sign on for university accommodation, he let Alex give his friend Oscar’s number.
Over the course of the next couple of days, Oscar and the boy called Lando Norris had exchanged a few message chains, mostly with details about the flat and general roommate intricacies like what kinds of furniture was needed, what he was studying, and, oh, Oscar didn’t eat a lot of fish, did he? It was slightly weird and stilted, in the way that it always was when you were set up in a blind-roommate situation, but the guy seemed nice enough, if a bit enthusiastic, so he tried to be relatively optimistic about the whole thing and they picked a day later in the week for Oscar to drive down and meet Lando in person.
Oscar tried to be rational about the whole thing, even as he considered all of the ways that it could potentially go wrong. He’d forced himself to look at it practically. He only really needed a bed, a kitchen, and a bathroom. He didn’t really have to be friends with Lando, if it turned out that he was that bad. All he really needed to do was co-exist with the guy, but part of him worried that he might end up to be a massive slob or be the kind of guy to keep him up at all hours of the night with loud music and partying.
-
Despite his hesitations, the day came quickly and though he contemplated all of his life’s decisions as he rode the elevator up to the flat, he told himself it would be fine. It kind of had to be.
When he arrived at the door marked 481 and knocked on the door before he could change his mind, a few things happened in quick succession.
One, there was a loud thump from inside the flat and the sound of something potentially shattering, followed by a string of shouted expletives and the sound of heavy footsteps.
Two, the door flung open, revealing a boy with tanned, freckled skin and curly hair. He wore a large sweatshirt, adorned with a large brown splotch of some kind, and a pair of shorts that were just barely visible beneath the hem. His eyes, some combination of blue and green and grey, were wild with panic, but the friendly, gap-toothed smile he wore seemed to light up his whole face, crinkling his features in just the right way.
Three, Oscar, who was a bit socially awkward on a good day, froze where he stood. His mouth fell slightly agape, and he felt as though all of the air left his lungs as he looked on at the sight of the boy in front of him, who, despite being covered in some kind of unknowable mess, was the most beautiful person that he had ever seen.
It wasn’t like he didn’t know what Lando had looked like at all. Like any sane person who was about to agree to live with a complete stranger, Oscar had parsed through Lando’s Instagram (his profile was public and boasted over a thousand followers to Oscar’s measly two-hundred-and-fifty), so it wasn’t a complete surprise that he was attractive, if, maybe, a bit cocky. That was, if his posts were anything to go on. But the thing was, Lando’s photos didn’t seem to do his beauty any justice. As he stood before Oscar now, Lando was all bright, warm colors, vibrant and bursting with nervous energy that seemed to radiate from his body in a way that couldn’t be captured through a phone camera. He looked less frantic than absolutely comfortable in his own skin, positively alive.
It was then that he realized that he should probably say something, since he’d just been standing there, staring for the last ten seconds like some creep, but Lando beat him to the punch.
“Hey, Oscar, right?” Lando asked, as though he were expecting some other stranger at his door in the middle of the day on a random Wednesday in August.
Lando went to offer his hand to Oscar, but immediately noticed that whatever was all over his sweatshirt was also all over his hand, so, with a bashful smile that Oscar pretended wasn’t entirely endearing, he offered his left one instead.
Oscar took it with his own, trying not to notice that Lando’s hand completely engulfed his, managing to shake it with some degree of normalcy.
“Yeah,” he said, remembering to smile. “Lando, I presume?”
“Yup,” Lando nodded, still smiling. After a moment of pregnant silence, he smacked his hand against the doorframe with his clean hand.
“Come on in, mate,” he said, turning back around and leading Oscar into the flat.
Oscar tried his best to look around and get an eye of the place, but his gaze kept returning to Lando, who was watching Oscar in kind, his bottom lip between his teeth.
He knew that they were both sizing each other up, trying to get a read on the other. It helped that Lando seemed just as nervous as Oscar, his clean fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt. It made him feel better.
Lando used his clean hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I, uh, apologize for the mess in the kitchen. I was attempting to make myself lunch but I’m a bit rubbish in the kitchen, so.”
He gestured with his hand vaguely, as though that were enough explanation.
“That explains that, then,” Oscar said with a chuckle, flicking his eyes down to Lando’s general appearance and the mess that still covered him.
Lando looked down at himself as though he hadn’t realized the large brown stain on his shirt and swore under his breath.
“Shit,” he said with a laugh. It was a really nice sound and Oscar thought he’d like to hear it again. “Ruined that one, didn’t I?”
Oscar waved it off with his hand. “It’ll come out, I’m sure.”
Lando huffed, examining the stain for just a moment before pulling the sweatshirt over his head, the shirt underneath riding up as he did so, revealing a sliver of tanned skin. Oscar pointedly didn’t drop his gaze to look.
He slowly walked around the living room as he tried to get a sense of what was needed beyond what Lando had told him through text. The place was spacious, more so than he’d expected and the utter lack of furniture only drew attention to that. Currently, there was just a television sitting on the ground and a medium-sized sofa.
“A lot of the shit that was in here belonged to my last roommate, Daniel, so it's a little sparse right now, but we can fill the space.” he said.
“Right,” Oscar said, pausing. “Why’d he move out?”
Alex hadn’t really told him much about Lando or why he had an open room in the first place, so it felt like a fair question, all things considered. Lando seemed nice enough so far, but he’d have liked to know if he was walking into a bad situation before he moved in. In retrospect, he probably should have asked more questions prior to this, but it was too late to worry about that now.
Lando must have read Oscar’s expression because he waved a hand in front of his face dismissingly. “Oh, it's nothing bad. I promise I’m normal, mate. He just graduated in spring, so he moved back home to look for a job.”
Oscar hummed, trying to break the awkwardness that still hung between them.
“It’s funny,” Lando said with a crooked smile. “He actually was Australian too. I’m collecting Aussies, it seems.”
Oscar smiled back, laughing properly then.
“C’mon,” he said, beckoning Oscar. “I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
The rest of the flat was just as half-complete as the living room, but it was a genuinely nice place, nicer than Oscar and Logan probably would have been able to afford had they ended up living together, even if the kitchen was an absolute disaster.
“Mate, what the hell were you trying to do?” Oscar asked, eyes darting between the broken bottle of what looked like teriyaki sauce on the floor and the sheet pan sitting on the counter that held what looked like it may have been a chicken breast at some point but was now just a charred brick.
“Uh,” Lando said, a small blush forming on his cheeks. Oscar tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in his stomach, the instinct he had to reach out and brush a hand through Lando’s curls where they’d fallen into his eyes. “It was supposed to be a chicken teriyaki wrap, but like I said, I can’t really cook, so…”
Oscar laughed, “You’re twenty-one years old, Lando.”
“I know,” he said, woefully.
Oscar watched as he pulled some paper towels off the roll on the counter and got down to the ground to clean up the spill. “I’ve tried to learn, but I’m useless at it. I either forget that I’ve put something in the oven and absolutely scorch it or undercook things to the point where they’re inedible. It’s a curse, I swear.”
Oscar followed suit, grabbing a handful and getting down to his knees to join him.
Lando looked up from the mess to notice Oscar beside him and shot him a guilty look that Oscar tried not to find cute. From this close, he could see that Lando had a faint scar across the bridge of his nose, a small imperfection on his otherwise unmarred face.
“Oh no,” Lando said, grabbing Oscar’s wrist to stop him. “You really don’t have to. It’s my mess.”
Oscar shook his head, carefully picking through the pieces of broken glass with his free hand, placing them carefully on the table above him. “It’s fine, mate.”
And it was. He didn't mind helping, and at least it gave him something to do other than stare at Lando as he crawled around on his hands and knees.
Lando sighed and released his wrist, going back to the task at hand.
“You’re too damn nice,” he said, softly, shaking his head absently.
Oscar cleared his throat as the silence settled over them, desperate to fill it before he did something stupid like kiss Lando. This boy was going to be his roommate and regardless of how mind-numbingly attractive Lando was, he was absolutely off limits unless Oscar wanted to find himself living in a box on the side of the road. A crush was something he could control. He just had to put an end to it before it really began.
“So what do you eat, then? If you can’t cook,” he asked.
Lando reached over to the cabinet under the sink, pulling out some kind of cleaning spray. “Well, sometimes I’d eat Daniel’s leftovers, but most of the time it’s microwave meals and takeaway because I just cannot be bothered to put myself through this. I don’t know why I even attempted. Figured I’d try and impress you or something. Couldn’t have you thinking I’m useless. ‘T’s stupid.”
Oscar felt his cheeks heat as he watched Lando scrub at the remaining mess, eyes glued to the floor, his own face turning pink. The idea that Lando attempted to cook just to show Oscar that he was a competent adult struck something inside of him. It made him want to protect Lando, despite the fact that he barely knew the first thing about him.
Oscar laughed it off, because he wasn’t sure what else to do.
“Well, I can cook,” he offered weakly. “If that’s something you’d want.”
Lando looked at him hopefully and Oscar had to fight off a smile. “Really?”
“I’m not, like, fantastic at it or anything, so don’t expect five star meals, but…” he said, trailing off. “It’s passable.”
“Passable is better than whatever the fuck I can do, so if you’re offering…” Lando trailed off.
“I’m offering,” Oscar said, nodding.
Oscar tried to ignore the significant, grateful expression in Lando's eyes.
-
Lando showed him the rest of the flat without much fanfare and with a rapid amount of small talk about his courses and living habits. Lando, despite having a less demanding major than Oscar, was incredibly busy. He had a long list of hobbies, ranging from golf to streaming, and even DJing. It made his head spin a bit as he listened to Lando rattle them all off. Oscar’s only real hobbies were going to the gym and the few times a week he sat down to play video games with Logan. He felt a little bit lame when he mentioned it, but Lando didn’t seem to mind, latching onto Oscar’s every word like he was the most interesting person in the world, his eyes wide and inviting.
They’d capped off the day by properly disposing of Lando’s ruined meal and ordering pizza. They’d eaten it on the floor in the living room, surrounded by half-full boxes and paper plates while Oscar kicked the shit out of Lando in MarioKart. They talked about everything and nothing and he’d laughed when Lando had whined that Oscar had somehow, inexplicably, cheated. It had been hesitant and fragile, but it felt like the start of something. Though, back then, Oscar hadn’t known how big and unknowable that something would become.
Even then, Lando had made it easy for Oscar to fall in step beside him, filling all the gaps of Oscar’s quieter, more reserved nature with self-deprecating humor and casual touches. It made it easy for him to allow his walls to drop just a bit, to cede his space to Lando, even then. In truth, it had made it all too easy to fall in love with him.
Now, he could admit to himself that was when it had all started. That the truth was, he had fallen a little bit in love with Lando that day, despite his efforts to look at the other boy and see only someone who could be his friend.
After all this time, he learned to live with the ache, to pad his expectations with a healthy dose of reality. It was the only way he’d learned to guard his heart. Somehow, it got easier. His friendship with Lando was, perhaps, the best thing in his life and he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let his feelings get in the way of that.
One day, they would both move on. They would graduate, develop careers, find partners, establish lives outside of one another. It was increasingly likely that one day, they might barely know one another at all. Friends drift apart, lives change, people move on. That was simply the way it was. As badly as he wanted it, he knew that they wouldn’t live inside their little two-bedroom flat forever and it wouldn’t do for him to pretend that they would. All he could do was hold onto the parts of Lando that he had now, to force himself not to hope for anything that Lando wasn’t capable of giving.
Between the two of them, Oscar had to be the first to move on. If he wasn’t, he’d be left with nothing but an empty flat and the shattered remains of his heart. So he would try, really try, no matter how herculean of a task it might be.
It meant that, when Lando came bounding into his bedroom, begging him to come out to the club to watch his set the next weekend, Oscar would say yes. It meant that he would let Lando set him up, to at least attempt to find someone who was capable of holding his heart without breaking it, someone who he might have a future with, or at least a night where he could think about his own pleasure, a night—or even an hour—where he could think about anything other than Lando, the musky scent of his cologne, the impossible color of his eyes, and just how badly he wanted to kiss him.
Notes:
please leave comments and kudos if you've liked this chapter/if you've liked the story so far! I love hearing from you all and it really means the world to me!
the next chapter should be up within a week or so, and will definitely be up before baku! I'm re-sequencing a few things in some later chapters, so its a little bit more writing and editing work before it'll be done but hopefully it will be worth it!
things are getting interesting next chapter soooo stay tuned because I know this one wasn't super long or plot-heavy!
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