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The air is thick as Lando pushes through the door to Oscar's driver room.
“Hi.”
A little pale face peers up at him from the sofa. The gentle green of the porcelain beside him contrasts the petal pink across his cheeks.
“Hey..”
He's quiet. It's Oscar, he's always quiet. But not with Lando, not anymore. Why does that make him tense?
There's something in Oscar's eyes, subdued and slight, but very familiar.
“You deserve it.. You know that?”
Usually, Lando would have to stifle a laugh (unsuccessfully) when the Aussie's eyebrows start merging with his hairline. But it feels weirdly heavy right now; strangely important, like maybe Oscar needs to hear it.
The younger's expression softens, eyes crinkling very slightly as Lando recognises a new look in the deep brown of his eyes.
It's that feeling he gets whenever Oscar finds a word for him, or waits for him before a sponsor event he's nervous about, or when he brings Lando chocolate biscuits after a particularly hard race.
It's the feeling of being known beyond a need for words.
“I know.. I know.”
Something in the Brit settles as Oscar exhales in supposed relief.
“Good.”
The room is silent for a while, though the thick tension seems to have dissipated somewhat.
Lando shuffles closer, gently plonking himself at the end of the sofa and pulling his knees to his chest - all while Oscar carefully moves the trophy to rest in a pile of hoodies on the floor.
“I’m really happy right now.”
It's whispered, feather light, and floaty through the air as his head lolls back against the couch.
There's nothing Lando can do to stop the wide grin slowly splitting his face, crinkling the creases of his eyes.
“Me too.”
And there it is again; Lando's sworn enemy. Oscar looks insecure - that's not how Oscar should ever look. Especially around Lando.
“Are you..? Happy? It's okay if you're not.. I get it.”
God. Even after today, after probably the biggest day of Oscar's life, he's doing what he can to make sure Lando's comfortable.
Fuck. He just wants Oscar to smile again. And, fucking hell, is it not obvious?
“Oscuh. You won. Of course I'm happy.”
The Aussie just sits silently - his infrequent blinks the only thing telling Lando he's still alive.
“Oh..”
Fuck!! Why is he sad again? He's not supposed to be upset today. What did Lando say? He thought he was doing this right. Oscar's always so great at making him feel better; at lifting him up. He should be able to do this.
His brows pinch together - stomach churning a little. “What is it?”
His teammate sighs, chuckling at himself in that self-deprecating way that Lando keeps praying the Aussie didn't pick up from him.
“You called me Oscar.. Sorry, it's stupid and- yeah..”
An embarrassed flush creeps across the younger's cheeks.
Lando is.. beyond confused.
“It's.. your name..?”
He expects a little scoff - the one Oscar does when he says something stupidly obvious, the one that makes him giggle as he pretends to feel exasperated.
Instead, he feels a sharp tug in his stomach.
There's a thick, choked up sniffle underpinning the Aussie's next words - the slightest shortness of breath ghosting over them.
“Not with you.. you- you call me Osc- or- or Osco.. Not-”
His breathing’s getting thinner, his throat sounds like it's closing around the beginnings of a sob.
So Lando reaches out, threading his finger through the bedraggled mop that Oscar calls hair, and slowly massages his scalp in line with his own exaggerated breaths.
He just needs to give Oscar something to hold on to; something to ground him a bit.
“Woah, hey. Deep breaths, mate.”
After a moment, Oscar lets his eyes fall shut and pushes up slightly into the comforting pressure of Lando's fingertips - his head still rolled back against the soft leather of the sofa.
When it seems as if the younger has calmed down enough, when his breathing evens out and the tears stuck to his eyelashes start to dry, Lando opens his mouth and doesn't even think before everything falls out.
“I call you Oscar when it's important; when I don't want it to get lost in all the other shit I say.”
The fingers still matted in Oscar's hair freeze, waiting for a response.
“Oh..” Not helpful.
But, at least he doesn't sound heart-shattering-ly distraught this time.
Lando takes, probably, the deepest breath of his life before continuing; feeling raw and unsteady.
“It's important.. That you know I'm happy for you, I mean. That I'm proud of you.”
Oscar's eyes flutter open, peering past his drying, unspilled tears. The angle must be straining his eyes a little, surely. If it is, it doesn't show as the Aussie smiles up at him - so, so gently.
Holding the eye contact, Lando can't help it as he feels himself getting lost in the chocolate-biscuit brown glistening before him.
“You did good. You've been doing good for a long, long time.”
He lets his own smile bleed through words - as if he has a choice.
He really can't stop the beaming grin threatening to tear him apart. It only widens as Oscar sends a a similar one his way - if a little shakier.
“Hah,” A small sniffle, “Gotta say all that while I'm all emotional, you dick?”
It's then that the room floods with the light giggles that make Lando's heart sing every time he hears them, and his own laughter pours between each word in reply.
“You’ve gotta cry after your first win, mate. Couldn't let you get away without.”
At that, Oscar's hair slips through his fingers while his teammate folds almost completely in half - laughing from his belly this time while turning his head to show off the bright, rabbit-toothed grin Lando's probably a little too fond of.
They sit there, laughing at absolutely nothing for longer than Lando cares to consider. And as they slowly calm down, breathing heavily and letting out the occasional chuckle, Lando just lets himself exist for a moment.
It all feels bright; sunny.
The air feels light and comfortable - it feels normal and Lando finds himself releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.
“You good?”
Oscar does that cute, tight-lipped, full-body nod of his - rocking the sofa slightly back against the wall. Wait, cute?
“I'm really good. I was just a little worried, I guess. But.. yeah. I'm good. I'm good now.”
‘now.’ After speaking with Lando.
Why does it feel so nice? Why is it such a sweet-as-molasses sensation to be the reason Oscar's smiling again?
If they sit there for a minute longer, basking in the familiarity of it all, then that's their business.
Unfortunately, they do actually still have to do their jobs. The rest of their jobs. Outside this comfy little cocoon they've sculpted around themselves.
“Alright! Well, we have a video to film with Andrea. Get off your ass, big dog.”
He doesn't even know where that came from.
But it makes Oscar cackle, so who cares?
“Where the fuck did that even come from?”