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When Oscar first met Lando, it wasn’t exactly an ideal meet-cute or anything… not that he wanted it to be one. Why would he care that Lando was the prettiest cat hybrid he’s ever laid eyes on? Why would he care that Lando makes the most delicious matcha latte that he’s ever tasted?
Why would he care-
Okay, he kind of did want to make a good impression on the cute barista.
Right up until Lando immediately made fun of his ears.
Moving to a new country halfway through a university degree and starting brand new is already jarring enough. Twenty-year-old Oscar didn’t know anyone—he barely even knew himself, apparently, because he had no idea why he felt so drawn to the cat behind the bar at the local café.
And when he finally mustered up the courage to actually step foot into the cute establishment and order a matcha latte, the cat, Lando, according to his nametag, joked about Oscar’s mismatched ears. Poked the bent one and even gave it a pensive little rub without giving Oscar a chance to dodge his touch.
Well, looking back on that moment, it was definitely more harmless curiosity than genuine disdain. Lando is a cat, after all, and Oscar is probably the calmest rabbit anyone will ever meet, so he forgave Lando right away. After Lando apologized for his misplaced ribbing and demanded that they get to know each other better, of course.
And now Oscar is roommates with Lando, which isn’t quite the development he wanted but a development nonetheless.
He just wishes that Lando’s constant flirting didn’t come as casually and as easily as breathing to him. Lando probably flirts with everything that moves. But Oscar does have a leg up on everyone else, which is that he knows just about everything there is to know about Lando Norris.
Oscar knows that Lando, despite being a cat, absolutely despises seafood, he snores like an engine, and he loves being lavished with attention. His favorite movie is Finding Nemo, which is fitting, his favorite activity is yoga, specifically right in the middle of their living room while wearing the tiniest shorts to ever exist, and he enjoys drinking matcha lattes, much like the influencers that he watches on one of the many social media platforms.
For a while, Lando even tried his hand at being an influencer girlie and instantly became an overnight sensation. It’s probably his natural charm combined with his pretty face combined with his deep knowledge of cars—hilarious—combined with the simple yet powerful fact that he’s a cat.
Cute cats are usually promised Internet fame if that’s what they want.
And then he decided he was bored with it all, so he returned to the humble life of making matcha lattes and posting the occasional marketing video for the local café. It’s for the better, Oscar decides, because this means that only he gets to see Lando’s cute face every day.
Oscar jerks when a finger pokes at his tail, disturbing his reminiscing.
Only one person ever dares to do that.
“Osc, will you do the dishes before you cook dinner? I need to pick up a few items from the grocery store,” Lando hurriedly says. He gives Oscar a quick once-over. “Am I hal- hallu- fuck it, dreaming, or did you get taller?”
Oscar momentarily finds himself a bit hypnotized by the way Lando’s tail waves frantically behind him, soft and fluffy and the color of the night sky. “Hallucinating,” he replies at last. “And no, I don’t think so?”
Eyebrows pinching, Lando shuffles in close. He smells sweet, like milk and cookies. “Mm, you’re definitely taller.” He gives Oscar a quick hug, throwing his arms around his shoulders as his tote bag swings haphazardly into Oscar’s face. “Anyway, I gotta go. Don’t get too lonely without me, bunny!”
“Y-yeah.”
As Lando flies out the door in a whirl of cream knit and black fur, Oscar is left staring after him. Just moments ago, he was gazing into Lando’s pretty eyes and imagining how soft his cheek would be if he lifted a hand to touch it.
This happens more often than he’d like.
Oh, if only Lando was just as in love with him.
Hearing the front door slam shut, Oscar suddenly remembers the dishes in the sink. He should probably get started on them before Lando comes back.
Just to have something to do, he washes everything by hand, grimacing at his pruny fingers when he dries his hands off. He’s thinking about taking another nap when the door bursts open and Lando flits through it with a full bag of groceries and two matcha lattes.
“Help me unpack?” Lando pleads, widening his eyes, and Oscar sighs.
“Yeah, okay.” He’s unable to resist those droopy kitten eyes. One would think that exposure therapy would help him, but that’s just not what happens when he’s stupid in love. It only takes one flutter of Lando’s eyelashes to make him do just about anything.
At least he gets a drink for his troubles.
Oscar takes the bag from Lando, who looks incredibly relieved to be released from his burdens. “Jesus, what did you buy? Bricks?”
“Frozen things,” Lando replies, tossing himself onto the couch for all of two seconds before he springs back up to crowd up against Oscar.
“Specific.”
Lando’s tail wraps itself around Oscar’s bicep. “I got your favorite ice cream, Osc.”
Oscar loves him.
“I reckon I can be convinced to cook dinner, then,” he says dryly. The tip of Lando’s tail tickles his nose, making it twitch.
“Cheers, ears,” Lando replies happily as his own ears flick in Oscar’s direction. “You’re the best.”
After doing his part in putting their groceries away, he hops onto the counter and swings his legs idly.
“No cats on the counter,” Oscar jokes. He prods Lando’s side, watching him squirm with some level of satisfaction.
“I’m just doing my part!” Lando protests. “You cook while I sit here and look pretty! In fact, you should be thanking me for not attempting to cook. That’s one less kitchen burning to the ground that you have to worry about.”
Oscar just looks at him, hoping his gaze isn’t too fond. It feels domestic with Lando perched on the counter, swinging his legs all nonchalantly like he doesn’t know about the extremely non-platonic feelings that his roommate holds for him.
“It’s nice of you to stare at me, Osc, but I hope you know that me looking pretty won’t actually get any cooking done.” Lando twirls his tail around his finger and pointedly glances at the chopped up vegetables on the counter while Oscar does his best to fight off a blush.
Under his breath, Oscar mutters, “Bossy,” and proceeds to dump his vegetables into the nearest pan. Lando shrieks, even though there was never any risk of hot oil getting splashed on him to begin with.
“Oscar!”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not!”
Oscar takes a peek at Lando’s pink cheeks. “No, I’m not.”
While Oscar absently stirs his vegetables, Lando swings his legs and chatters his ears off. An impressive feat in itself, given how much of Oscar is… ear.
It’s cute, though.
“Oscar,” Lando mewls as he’s handed a plate. “You’re the best.”
“Well, I couldn’t have done anything if you weren’t here, um, looking pretty.”
The words feel awkward in Oscar’s mouth, but he means each and every one of them. And his brief moment of awkwardness is worth the way Lando’s eyes sparkle as he grins, much like a cat that got the cream.
Oscar helplessly watches Lando eat. It’s interesting to him, just like every other little thing he does. Still perched on the counter, Lando swings his legs happily and hums as he stuffs his face, since not being adorable is simply impossible for him.
A chunk of carrot swims into Oscar’s line of vision, and he looks at Lando, unimpressed, when he nudges it insistently against his lips.
“Say ‘ahhh’,” Lando coos, eyes glinting. His tail swishes playfully, and Oscar feels like he’s being teased again, but he humors Lando anyway and receives a soft little pat between his ears for his troubles. “Cute bunny.”
Cute bunny!
Oscar kind of wishes that Lando would see him as a sexy bunny too. Rabbit? Perhaps he should go to the gym more often.
Lando feels like his brain has turned to fuzz.
Because when did Oscar, his cute adorable bunny, become so broad? And his chest… Lando can’t resist kneading at it while watching a movie that he’s long since forgotten the plot of. Oscar never minds cuddling until Lando ends up falling asleep on him halfway through, but his cheeks are bright red when Lando glances up at him.
Oscar is still cute. That much will never change. He’s just built like he can pin Lando underneath him now.
The base of Lando’s tail tingles as he squeezes his flatmate’s pecs.
“You’re not asleep yet,” Oscar comments, still blushing. “And, uh, you seem busy.”
Lando hums absently. God, Oscar’s chest really is quite nice, isn’t it? Firm but not too firm- oh, it actually is quite firm when he flexes- do that again.
It’s not just Oscar’s body either. Like, him growing an extra centimeter or two is just the juicy cherry on top of an already wonderful cake, icing and all, but more importantly, Oscar is the calm to Lando’s hyperactive storm, ironically, and he’s just always there for him.
“Lando?”
“I think I love you,” Lando says, smiling dazedly. He feels like he’s been given catnip, only it’s the sweet, sweet chocolate scent of his favorite bunny and the proximity and the sleepy warmth of being cuddled up to his side under a shared blanket that does it for him. Makes him feel this way.
Oscar just stares at him in shock, and only then does Lando realize exactly what he said.
In a flash, the blanket is flung away, and Lando’s ears are pressed back against the top of his head as he stammers out an excuse and flees, fluffy tail tucked between his legs in shame.
He winces when his bedroom door slams shut like a crack of thunder, but he can’t be too bothered to apologize to Oscar for the noise when he has more urgent tasks at hand, like burrowing into his blankets and becoming one with his bed, faceplanted and everything. A soft lump with just his curly hair and a pair of fuzzy ears sticking out from the top. A purrito.
Approximately a minute passes before the door creaks open again.
“Lando?”
Lando meeps.
A solid weight settles on the bed beside him, and, much to his embarrassment, he actually does begin purring when familiar fingers thread through his curls to massage his scalp.
“Lando’s not even here,” he mumbles. His words come out slurred, and he feels a little dumb and helpless under the ministrations of Oscar’s hand.
And Oscar knows how to get exactly what he wants from Lando after living together for so long because not a moment later, Lando rolls over and stretches, completely blissed out. He’s showing his vulnerable underbelly to Oscar, who looks at him so warmly that his toes curl.
“Did you mean it?” Oscar asks quietly, scooping Lando into an upright position. He laughs when Lando grunts noncommittally and immediately buries his face in his stupid white T-shirt, but he sounds… hopeful when he adds, “I really, really want you to mean it. Honestly, who else would make me matcha lattes and attack me with a hug when I’m least expecting it and-”
Lando, overwhelmed with soft, fluttery feelings and love for his bunny, who, by the way, is definitely broader than he was a week ago, can only yank him down by the collar. Oscar barely catches himself in time before he squishes Lando underneath him, and he opens his mouth to say something else, but Lando curves a hand around the back of his head, minding his ears, and kisses him.
It should feel shocking and explosive, but this is Oscar that Lando is kissing, so the only thing he feels is a slow, gentle warmth seeping into his body, like he’s lying in a sunlit patch by the window.
Only when he flops back onto the mattress, gasping, does he realize that he’s completely wrapped around Oscar, practically trapping him between all four limbs.
And Oscar smiles, rendering Lando breathless.
“I’ve waited to do that for a long time, kitten.”
Kitten!
Lando blushes and scrounges up enough courage to coyly bat his lashes and reply, “Well, don’t hold back now, bunny. Do your worst.”
Really, he should know better than to challenge a rabbit hybrid to sex, of all things.
He may regret it a little when he’s limping and completely worn out the next morning while Oscar smugly sips his matcha, completely at peace.
But Oscar lets him perch on the counter and kisses him to put a stop to his whining and complaining, so life may not be that bad, after all.