Work Text:
Waiting for the Indycar to start on sky sports, Oscar finds himself glued to the TV as Lando's lie detector video starts playing.
They filmed those during their first runs in the car at Silverstone. Lando's wrapped up warm and cosy in his dress-length coat; his hair is tucked under a soft beanie with small curls peeking onto his forehead.
He's so pretty.
Lando himself is sitting in their bedroom planning a few lunches with friends over the phone. He tends to leave the room when groupchat planning is involved. It's an almost impossible task and, consequently, rather agitating.
Oscar feels a small flutter in his stomach at each of the silly expressions Lando makes during the interview. There's a moment where he scrunches his face up and rolls his eyes. Oscar's seen it several times - in person, too. He'd seen it this morning over breakfast when he’d rightfully criticised Lando's juice pouring technique when the elder had spilled half the bottle over his hand and completely missed the glass.
It has butterflies fluttering and swirling in Oscar's stomach every time, without fail.
As the interview continues, the Aussie hears something that causes the purely happy smile to fall from his lips.
“Do you ever look in the mirror and think, ‘Oh! I am absolutely gorgeous’?”
“Hah! The complete opposite. No.”
Oscar's fully aware he's staring at the TV like a fish that's forgotten how to swim - his mouth hanging open as he wills his brain to compute the information he's just received.
Lando..
My Lando.. doesn't know he's pretty..?
The young driver's brows pinch together, a small crease forming in his smooth skin as he feels himself stand robotically from the sofa.
He's barely aware that he's moving as he speeds towards the shared bedroom in their apartment - long strides taken on autopilot as his mind fixes on one, single, thought:
I need him to know. I need him to know. I need him to know. I need him to know.
He pushes the door open, the bottom making a swoosh! sound as it skims the soft carpet beneath. “Oh! Hey, Osc! You alright?”, Lando says, looking up from his phone and meeting Oscar's eyes from his spot by the pillows.
Instead of answering, the Australian holds Lando's gaze and approaches the top of the bed where his boyfriend is sprawled horizontally. Lando is more than confused, he can see it in the squint of his eyes and the lift of his top lip to the tip of his nose.
Still, Oscar says nothing. Eyes boring into Lando's and reading him from the inside out.
He needs to know he's pretty.
Oscar places a hand on each of Lando's cheeks, holding firm and gentle as he drops petal-light kisses across each of the Brit's features.
He trails a careful brush of his lips over Lando's cheeks, up to his temple and across his forehead - nose tickling against chocolate curls. He follows the sweep of his boy's cheekbone to the tip of his nose - dipping down to press his lips against the corners of Lando's own.
The elder's eyes are wide - gently glazing over with tears of an unknown, but not unpleasant, origin.
He presses his face up; heart-shaped meeting lopsided in, quite possibly, the most genuine and beautiful kiss of Lando's life. He wants to cry, it's so good. It's so them. He never feels so loved as when Oscar holds him, as he is now, cradling his head and telling Lando all he'll ever need to know about the way Oscar feels for him.
Even a perfect kiss comes to an end, eventually.
Both men gasp against each other's lips, Oscar's hands resting either side of the Brit's neck - both thumbs sweeping at his jawline and tilting his face up slightly. Oscar meets his eyes once again, the softest smile Lando's ever seen, gracing his lips. He'd bed down and sleep for months in that smile if he could - wrapped in warm kisses and perfect comfort. The Aussie’s lips part - whispered breath dances across Lando's Cupid's bow.
“You are.. beautiful.”
With a final kiss dropped to his lips, Lando is left lying on their bed; he watches with salty tears building in his eyes as Oscar leaves the room.
The fans call him handsome, attractive, good looking, all the time. He's not a stranger to compliments. It's just. There is no denying when Oscar says it. He says it as if it's a fact; a known truth, a piece of general knowledge trivia. He has to believe his boyfriend because, what other choice does he have?
Oscar called him beautiful.
And he said it so earnestly.