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Lando being loud was something he was used to; the way Lando’s laugh was something between a cry and a shout, how his voice jumped an octave when he was scared, when he screamed whenever there was a spider on the wall in his driver’s room, and Oscar was unfortunate enough to be the closest person to seek shelter behind.
Oscar had gotten used to all this, over the past season and a half.
What he hadn’t gotten used to, however, was Lando running through the hallway in the motorhome, screaming, just to screech to a stop, grab Oscar by the shoulders, and hide behind him; Lando’s forehead pressed between his shoulder blades.
“Oscar, mate, you’ve got to help me,” Lando says, panting. He’s scared, his voice is high pitched; Oscar can hear his heartbeat behind him, as he grips Oscar’s shoulders like a vice. Like a safety angel.
“What’s going on?” Oscar asks, laughing, because the hallway Lando ran down is completely empty, except for the plant Lando almost knocked down. He can admit it’s a little inconveniently placed.
But just when Lando is about to answer, a man with a camera in orange– sorry, papaya– gear rounds the corner, and behind him, a man with a snake around his arm, and Lando shrieks and pushes Oscar in front of him, still holding his shoulders as if his life depended on it – Oscar is pretty sure it’ll leave bruises in the form of Lando’s fingers; purple and blue and green, a reminder of Lando’s hold on him, the way he’s fallen head over heels for the man with curly hair.
Now, Oscar’s never been a fan of snakes, never will be, and he’s quite confused as to what is going on, but he is willing to put himself between a snake and Lando, if it means keeping him safe and sound.
“Oscar please help, they're trying to kill me,” Lando says, in one breath, as he laughs and shrieks at the same time, pressing his own body closer to Oscar’s and– oh, that’s quite nice, actually; Lando pressed so close to himself. For a brief second he imagines what it would be like to sleep like this, Lando in his arms, his curls tickling his face. Hands on Lando’s narrow waist, one slipping under his shirt, brushing the warm skin, hiding under the covers, Oscar’s name from Lando’s mouth, a whisper, so close to himself, a moan–
Nope.
“Lando, it’s one picture, then you’re good,” Henrik says, holding up the camera in front of his face and snapping a picture of Lando hiding himself behind Oscar, both of their faces turned red (although for different reasons), a bright smile on his face and a crinkle in his eyes.
“No! I am not getting near that thing!” Lando says, peeking up behind Oscar’s shoulder to see the snake clinging to the other man’s arm. Oscar can feel his breath hot against his neck.
Oscar laughs, then steps to the side, exposing Lando, and wrapping an arm around his waist so he doesn't run. “Yeah, come on, it’s just one picture,” he says, almost doubling over when Lando tries to get away again; Oscar tugs at Lando’s waist, pressing their sides together, hips attached. “I can be in the picture, can’t I?” he asks.
Henrik smiles and takes another picture of them. “Yes, as long as Lando’s there,” he says, laughing as Lando squirms when the man with the snake comes closer. Oscar sees the TikTok admin sneak up behind Henrik, filming them too.
He can’t wait to see this – Lando in his arms, face flushed – blowing up everywhere. Maybe he’ll even get a new wallpaper, if the picture's resolution is good enough.
“No, please, don’t,” Lando pleads, squirming as the man gets closer, the snake looking at them. Lando’s face is red, and he’s smiling, even though anyone can see the fear (and are those tears?) in his eyes. Oscar tightens his grip on Lando’s waist, and Lando presses closer to him, hiding his face in Oscar’s shoulder, warmth spreading between them, heat building where their bodies are pressed together, and Oscar’s pretty sure his T-shirt is wet where Lando’s face is pressed into his shoulder.
“It’s alright. Five seconds, then it’s over,” Oscar says, rubbing his hand up and down Lando’s side, aware of the cameras that are on them – and, more importantly, the snake that is now being handed to him.
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little scared.
“This was not in my contract,” Lando says, and Oscar can hear a sharp and shaky inhale, exhale, a hard swallow, and then misses the warmth from Lando’s face disappearing from his shoulder.
The TikTok admin is now right next to Henrik, a big smile on his face as he films with his phone, him and Lando, pressed so close together as humanly possible, as the snake climbs onto Oscar’s arms (or, well, arm , since he’s holding Lando with his other).
“Fuck,” Lando curses under his breath, and only then does Oscar realise he has his eyes closed.
“Mate, open your eyes, it’s not that bad,” he says, laughing as Lando presses the side of his face flush against Oscar’s shoulder – his cheek mushed – and curses again when he sees the snake curling itself around Oscar’s other arm.
Lando laughs, loudly; a shout, almost; his eyes wide and face so red he resembled a tomato. He laughs again. “I’m so scared,” he almost whispers, a light tone in his voice, laughing, yet Oscar can feel him shaking next to him.
Henrik snaps a few pictures, when the man is out of frame, and the TikTok admin is still filming – great content, probably.
Lando is still shaking, breathing heavily with his mouth closed, pressing against Oscar’s side as he tries to hide himself, and Oscar wants nothing more than to protect him, because for some reason, Lando has trusted him with this.
When they’re finally done, the man takes the snake back, and thanks them and exchanges a few words with Oscar – Lando is too busy getting his breathing under control. Mr. TikTok admin is still filming, and so is Bruce, now, too. Henrik takes more pictures of them, with Lando’s face in his shoulder, eyes closed, deep breaths; Oscar’s face flushed, because he never wants to let this moment go – never wants to let Lando go.
“I’m gonna throw up,” Lando says after a while, and they all laugh as Lando leans all his weight on him. “Oscar–” Osc-ah “–please hold me.”
“Mate, I am holding you,” Oscar says, craning his neck to look down at Lando, wrapping his arm safely around Lando’s slim shoulders. And then, just because he can – and because he can feel Lando’s racing heart against his own – he presses a featherlight kiss into the side of Lando’s head, on top of his curls. “Think you need to calm down, mate. The snake is gone.”
“Osc– Osco, shut up, you frickin’ muppet,” Lando mumbles, and tucks his head under Oscar’s chin, his face by Oscar’s throat, and– oh, he can feel lips, chapped, against his pulse point, just under his jawline.
He already knows he’s got nothing to worry about.
“Let’s go to my driver’s room, hm?” he asks, running a hand through Lando’s now-messy curls.
Lando hums.
“Or are you too scared to move?” he asks, playfully, and Lando shoves him, a smile on his lips that are indeed chapped, and Oscar can see red painted across his cheekbones and nose and tip of his ears.
“Fuck you,” Lando says, and takes Oscar’s hand to lead him to his driver’s room, where they settle down to nap – cuddled up – in the mess of Oscar’s room, chuckling and giggling between kisses and – okay, just a bit of tongue, but, seriously, can you blame him?
Lando’s lips taste so good.
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