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If Lando had learnt anything about Oscar it was that he did not lose his cool. He was calm and collected no matter the situation. It was actually impressive at times how he did not lose his temper.
Over time he had picked up on a few signs that showed Oscar was irritated, or upset or just not in a good mood. They were still rare and came once a blue moon, but they were there and for Lando it was enough.
Oscar was simply just a guy who didn’t blow up in people’s faces. The opposite to himself, who didn’t exactly blow up, but he wasn’t someone to bite his tongue when he had something to say.
Another thing that stuck out was Oscar wasn’t one for touching. It was clear from the first day and that was fair. Oscar was a rookie and the new guy on the team. He was shy and a little awkward and Lando knew how overwhelming it was in the first year, so he didn’t push.
It was why when Oscar had initiated their hug on the fan stage back in Silverstone Lando had practically been over the moon. Looking back at the video of it was always a little embarrassing, seeing his beaming smile when he had felt Oscar’s hand fit into the dip of his waist before sliding across his back to hug him close, his own arm going up and around his shoulders, nothing but a small inch of space between them. The little wiggle of anxious movement from Oscar before he initiated the hug, the nervous smile on his face as brown eyes searched for any sign of discomfort.
Lando had felt stupid butterflies in his stomach at that moment and he felt them every time he rewatched the video.
Not that he rewatched it often.
Since then Oscar had been more inclined to touch him and Lando let him take what he wanted. There wasn’t much to make him uncomfortable, not after having Daniel and Carlos as teammates, whose love languages were clearly physical touch. They had even ended up spreading the small need onto him, which was tricky, but he worked around it.
Lando had taken to getting his affections out for the other boy by using pet names. At first he had started using them to tease him. It was a little amusing watching Oscar’s cheeks turn a bright red when he uttered the word baby or babe. The usually relaxed expression on his face turn into his mouth twisting to hide a smile or rolling his eyes and telling him to fuck off.
No sight was prettier than watching Oscar melt into a little puddle because Lando had let sweetheart slip from his lips.
The teasing though had quickly turned into a norm. Lando found himself using it more casually, skipping out on using Oscar’s name most of the time. He had taken to using pet names so much their team had mentioned it and Lando had just shrugged whilst Oscar had said it was how Lando annoyed him.
Lando tried not to mention how Oscar clearly loved the pet names.
Though he had not imagined using them in a moment like this.
Lando had managed a P2 for the Dutch Grand Prix and as much as P1 would have made quali perfect, he knew logically there was no beating Max, no matter how good their upgrades were. So he had to settle and P2 was nothing to complain about.
For a moment it had seemed like Oscar would have been right on his heels, but he had finished his push lap before the others and had toppled down the numbers to the team’s slight disappointment, but he was still up there. There was still a good amount of points to snatch up and he had no doubt Oscar would manage.
Oscar had even appeared to congratulate him, still wearing his helmet so he could see nothing but his eyes, but there was a squeeze against his waist as he was congratulated. In the whirlwind of excitement though he had barely managed a word out before Oscar was gone.
Typically that would not have been out of the ordinary, so Lando did not know why there was a flutter of worry in his chest. There was no time to go after him though as he was swept into his interview and after that had photos to take.
It was not until an hour later he was free from his obligations that he got a moment to himself. The plan was to get out of his race suit, into some comfortable clothes and hopefully get to his hotel room for a hot shower.
He had just pulled a shirt down over his head when there was a knock on his door. Immediately he couldn’t help but groan. He just wanted to get back to the hotel and sleep.
He swung open the door, “Jon, seriously I’m—” but his words died on his tongue as he found Oscar in his doorway and not Jon or any McLaren staff.
Oscar looked tired, more than usual. He had changed into some sweatpants and an orange McLaren shirt, which somehow made him look even smaller than normal.
“Oscar? Hey, I thought you would have already left by now, liking the paddock that much this race week?” Lando joked, leaving the door open as he shuffled back inside to find a hoodie to throw on.
There was no reply, which had the worry from earlier spark back up in his chest. He glanced back to find Oscar had come inside, fingers reached out towards the massage chair, picking at the fading leather.
“Oscar?” Lando repeated, voice softer now though as he frowned at the other’s form. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. “What’s wrong?”
There wasn’t a great chance of Oscar talking to him, but if he had waited for him to be free from his duties and had shown up at his door there was a good chance that Oscar did want to talk at least.
“I just—” A noise laced with frustration slipped from Oscar’s lips, “I wanted to be up there with you, god—I sound like a kid. I just—I wanted a good start to the second half of the season, but I couldn’t even get P3 or even P4. Overtaking is already so hard on this track, well, that’s what everyone says, and I just wanted to do well this week–and I know P8 is good, but I guess getting the taste of the front rows has my brain all skewed cause this doesn’t seem good enough anymore.”
It was the most he has ever heard Oscar complain about a race week. Well, he had heard his complaints in their meetings and with engineers, but Oscar never complained to him directly. He always lets Lando complain but Oscar was never one to do it and once again he had accepted that about the other boy.
So this was a little out of his element, but Oscar was clearly struggling and he wasn’t going to let his boy talk himself down into a frenzy of not being good enough.
“Sorry…” Oscar managed, nervous eyes meeting his own, “I–You’re probably tired, I’ll go. See you tomorrow.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Oscar…you know it’s okay wishing you did better. It’s literally what everyone on the grid does. Even I wished I got P1 and that's literally impossible right now. It’s okay if you aren’t satisfied.”
Assurance was good. It’s what he would want if he was in Oscar’s place, or well, that and a hug most of the time. But a hug didn’t seem to be the right call with Oscar, at least right now.
“It—I just feel—I wish I did better.”
Lando didn’t think it was this easy to have his heart break a little. Oscar’s voice was just so small, in a way he hadn’t heard it before. He was a soft spoken guy but there was sadness swirling alongside it. He looked miserable standing there, as if there was a small rain cloud over his head, rain pouring down on him.
Oscar was sad and Lando decided then and there nothing could be worse than this.
He wasn’t best with his words and he didn’t think anything he could possibly say would be helpful. This wasn’t a strategy problem, this wasn’t something he could fix by yelling at someone nor could it be fixed by Oscarjust trying again the next race.
"Baby…c’mere…” The pet name slipped from his lips without a second thought as he reached his arms out. He didn’t sweep Oscar into a hug and mentally prepared himself for Oscar’s rejection before he would flee the room. This was Lando trying and silently hoped his offer would be taken.
Oscar’s expression first off was a little caught off guard. His eyes a little wide as he stared at Lando and shuffled on his feet.
He was thinking.
He was considering it.
Lando was pretty sure he was no longer breathing.
Just as he was lowering his arms, an apology on the tip of his tongue, Oscar moved. His teammates' cheeks were pink as he shuffled forward, barely taking a step as he moved across the room and in a second he had his arms full of Oscar.
Oscar had accepted his hug.
Oscar’s arms had wrapped around his waist and he had pressed his face against his neck. He could feel his breath against his neck and finally Lando let himself breathe again.
His own arms quickly wrapped around Oscar, tugging the other impossibly closer. He felt the moment Oscar relaxed in his arms, the tension in his body leaving as he let out a shaky breath.
All he wanted was for Oscar to feel better.
Lando had no idea how long they stood there hugging but he was not going to be the first to pull away, not when Oscar had clearly needed this for god knows how long.
He moved one of his hands further up, finger’s brushing through the hair at his nape, smiling faintly when he heard a content sigh leave Oscar, his nose pressed further into his neck.
Another idea came to mind a second later. “You think you’d be okay to move this one of our hotel rooms, baby? You can get your hug fill in all night if you’d like that…?” His voice was a little sheepish as he asked, unsure if Oscar would want it to continue or would rather spend his night alone.
To his surprise Oscar did not even pull away to answer, mumbling something against his neck and Lando’s heart lurched in his chest once more.
God, he was so doomed.
“I think you’re gonna need to repeat that for me, sweetheart.”
Eventually, Oscar lifted his face away from his face. It was slightly weird needing to look down at Oscar when the Australian had a few inches over him usually. “I said sure…” His voice was impossibly quiet still, cheeks pink, but his face looked less tense. The hug had been the right move.
That’s how they ended up in Lando’s hotel room nearly an hour later.
Lando had insisted on needing his shower first, leaving Oscar to curl up in bed, and promised that he would be really quick, which he had been honest about. He had taken the fastest shower of his life, even skipping on his hair oil because there was an impossibly cute but sad boy waiting for him in his bed.
He never thought he would have been thinking that in his life.
Lando practically fell out of the bathroom, toweling his hair so he wasn’t dripping everywhere. He had thrown on some shorts and one of his oversized hoodies, throwing the towel aside as he got back over to the bed.
“Miss me?” Lando found himself asking a little cheekily, but if Oscar had responded he didn’t catch it, his brain short circuiting at the sight of his teammate in his hotel bed, fiddling with the T.V remote.
Oscar had found his way into his suitcase and found one of his hoodies. Specifically one of his old merch hoodies, lando norris written on the corner in script and he knew it was across the back as well. It was his most worn hoodie, one he slept in and wore in hotel rooms whilst eating room service in the middle of the night. It was well loved and now Oscar was wearing it.
He did not hate the sight of that one bit.
“Is that my hoodie?’ Lando ended up asking, stupidly, as if he was blind to his name being written on it.
Oscar blinked, glancing down at the hoodie and then back at Lando. “Are you Lando Norris?” he shot back, eyebrows raised.
At least he was feeling better enough to make his dumb comebacks.
“Fair enough…” Lando muttered, crawling onto the bed. He was a little more nervous this time. It was different when Oscar had clearly been swamped by his feelings, but now he seemed less out of it and Lando wasn’t sure on how to ask if he needed a hug again.
“Um…is—is that okay?” Oscar asked, gesturing towards the hoodie, “Your hoodie, I mean—Is it okay if I wear it? I was gonna ask but I just needed to get out of that stupid shirt, it felt like it was taunting me.”
Lando’s face fell a little, “Of course, baby . Take whatever you need. The orange burns the eyes this late anyways.”
The Australian ended up nodding, brown eyes still a little wide eyed as he shifted on his spot on the bed.
Just ask you, idiot.
“Is it okay…if, um, we—we cuddle?”
This was how Lando Norris was going to die. Death by a too cute teammate.
“I invited you over for a reason didn’t I?” Lando asked, shuffling back against the bed and opening his arms again except Oscar didn’t move, instead he was frowning, his bottom lip trapped by his teeth.
“What’s wrong?” He tried not to make the panic clear in his voice.
Oscar shifted in the bed again, hands fiddling with the bedsheets. Lando couldn’t help but watch as nimble fingers fisted the sheets, nails scratching at them before letting them go again and repeating the process.
He looked back up and Oscar still seemed to be struggling with whatever he wanted to ask or say.
“Baby.” Lando paused this time to observe Oscar’s reaction. Cheeks turning a darker pink and eyes flickering between Lando and the lamp on the side table. “You can ask, whatever you need, Oscar, I’m not gonna judge, trust me.”
“Forget it, nevermind.” Oscar had seemingly lost his internal fight with himself, instead moving and plopping right down on top of Lando’s body.
He let out a small wince. “Jesus, Osc’, be gentle would you? I am not a bed.”
There was no audible reply, a small mumble against his neck again.
Lando decided it was a lost cause, not wanting to annoy Oscar too much when he was in this new state of his.
Instead, he quietly wrapped his arms around Oscar’s waist and placed his chin atop his head, hair tickling his nose slightly. His legs twisted around Oscar’s as well and he felt a bit like an octopus or maybe a guard dog with how he was watching over his teammate. He didn’t mind exactly.
What he did mind was the horrible crush on Oscar that was only growing with every second of Oscar clinging onto him like this.