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Oscar doesn’t wear jewellery.
But when he stumbles across an ad on instagram for fidget rings he just knows he needs to buy one.
For himself to wear, yes, however more for the benefit of his boyfriend.
Lando’s main anxiety tic is picking at the skin of his nails. Oscar’s tried tirelessly for months to stop the blood from swelling around the corners of Lando’s nailbeds. But he can’t ever seem to stop, despite the amount of times he whacks one of Lando’s own hands away from the other.
Oscar’s current solution to Lando’s physical manifestations of anxiety is to pull his hand into his, collide his calloused palms with Lando’s soft ones, attempting to hold onto him to stop the tic.
And while all good in the comfort of Lando’s Monaco apartment, a place that has become more of a shared haven over the summer break, he knows it isn’t something he can do in public with the scrutiny of the media watching over him.
Oscar knows Lando finds comfort in the physical feeling of feeling Oscar’s fingers tightly interlocked with his, he knows that when they get back to the track in a week’s time, back under the public eye, Lando’s anxious tic is going to run wild again. Both from a lack of physical connection with Oscar, but also from the increased media presence which looms over him.
Oscar clicks om the link, scrolls until he finds a ring he likes. Plain silver, a thin silver band in the middle of it dotted with a pattern akin to the end of an old-timey spoon.
Lando has a few rings similar, made from spoons themselves, that when placed on Lando’s fingers makes him crazy.
Oscar puts two in his cart, hoping that if he can’t be there for comfort, Lando can calm himself in the same manner that he would with Oscar.
When the rings arrive a few days later, Oscar opens the parcel when Lando’s out for breakfast with Max.
He pulls them out of the box, putting it on his left pointer finger, and realising it fits perfectly.
Oscar doesn’t really have a plan of attack to surprise Lando. He thinks about doing a marriage proposal-style unveiling of the ring, but he thinks that only a few months of dating after saying they were going to take it slow wouldn’t go down the best with Lando.
Even though he knows that one day in the future, he’ll be down on one knee, proposing for real.
Oscar determines that his best course of action is to wear the ring and explain it when Lando notices. He hides the second ring in the drawer of his bedside table, and continues on with his day, waiting until Lando gets back.
The thing Oscar forgot to take into consideration was that he doesn’t wear jewellery. Like, ever. Like, Lando tried to buy him a simple silver bangle for his birthday and Oscar wouldn’t let him.
So obviously wearing a ring didn’t slide by Lando.
Oscar’s sitting at the breakfast bar when Lando gets back from breakfast, scrolling through an email from McLaren about the development for the next season’s car.
He hears the lock turn, the door opening, Lando’s footsteps inside. The door shuts a few moments later, accompanied by the sound of keys dropping and shoes being thrown to the floor.
“Hey,” Oscar calls, his back turned towards Lando from where he’s sitting.
“Hi Osc,” Lando’s familiar accent call as he feels the presence of his boyfriend coming closer behind him.
“How was breakfast?”
“So good.” Lando says, arms wrapping around Oscar’s wasit, locking in front of his stomach, and resting his head on Oscar’s right shoulder. Oscar feels a kiss into the crease of his neck, where it meets his jaw, and his heart warms to the touch, the softness yet firey intimacy of Lando touching him there. “Don’t tell Jon but I had waffles, we need to go there before we leave here. Trust me, it’s worth breaking the diet for.”
“You don’t need to convince me, you know I’m always down for breaking diets.” Oscar offers, a giggle erupting in his ear. He can’t help but lean into the touch, the softness of Lando’s curls tickling the side of his face.
They stand for a minute, Oscar relishing in the comfort, realising just how deeply he loves Lando.
“The new car?” Lando asks, hinting towards the email sitting on Oscar’s laptop screen.
“Mhm.” Oscar responds. “It’s looking good, I think. Just the bloody deg again.”
“They think it’s gonna be bad still?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.”
“At least you can control your tyres. The deg makes me look like a rookie two years on.”
“Oscar,” Lando whines, moving his hands from interlocking into Oscar’s.
“You don’t look- wait.”
Oscar offers a hmm? in response.
“Are you wearing a fucking ring?” Lando exclaims.
Oscar’s hand gets dragged across his body, Lando bringing it up to his face for a closer inspection of the ring.
“Yeah.” He responds, nonchalant, his insides vibrating with nerves and excitement.
“It’s pretty.” Lando comments. “Why’d you decide to wear it?”
Oscar inhales. “Because I know you like to play with my fingers when you’re anxious.”
“What?”
“You like to hold my hand when you’re anxious. So now you can play with it, because it’s a spinny ring. See?” Oscar rotates the centre band, moving the pattern between the two plain bands.
Lando brings his finger up to the ring, delicately touching it. “You got this for me?” He whispers.
“I have this one, but I got you a matching one. You can wear it on days we’re at the track or we’re in public and hopefully it can bring you some form of comfort. Stop you picking your nails, at least.”
Lando lets out a whimper, and Oscar feels warm arms surrounding his neck, and Lando’s nose burying into the crevice of his neck. He brings his hands up to Lando’s arms, rubbing back and forth in what is hopefully a comforting way.
“You okay baby?” Oscar asks, the pet name slipping out just as it does on its rarest occasions.
He feels a nod from Lando tucked into his side. He turns to place a kiss on the curls next to him, burying his nose into the scent he’s become so familiar with. Oscar’s heart has never felt more full; he thinks he might die.
“Thank you.” A small whisper comes.
“Of course.”
Another whisper, this time mumbling more into the skin of Oscar’s neck. “I love you.”
Oscar inhales Lando’s curls. “I love you too.”