Chapter Text
Underneath the starry sky and the slow drift of snowflakes around them, Lando drives the car up the driveway. Through the mirror he sees Gemma stir in the backseat, eyes half-lidded but glimmering, nonetheless. She presses her face to the window, watching the warm glow of the house grow closer. Two minutes earlier she had been knocked out — head tipping on the headrest of her car seat, eyes pressed shut. The second her body feels the familiar turns of the countryside; her eyes fly open. It’s like her body just know this place off instinct — every trip they’d taken to his parents’ place etched into the way she functions as a human being.
But to someone, this is completely new.
Oscar is sat in the passenger seat and studies the house outside the window with awe. The house lights up against the dark sky and every roof trim and porch fence are slinged with golden lights. In every window there hangs a Christmas star, warming up the winter from the inside. On the front door there’s a beautiful wreath hung up that’s decorated with flowers, pinecones and one big red bow.
The snow is all around — Lando’s mum, Cisca, had said it had hardly ever stopped snowing after the first wave fell around the end of November. The freshly fallen, reflective surface shines with the lights of the house.
Lando wonders is Oscar’s ever spent Christmas like this — feather white snow covering all surfaces as the temperatures sink below 0 degrees — wonders if he misses the warmer region.
As the car halts to a stop, Lando reaches a hand over to rub Oscar’s shoulder. His hair bounces as he turns his head from the window to look Lando in the eyes. Oscar smiles shyly at Lando’s comforting grin.
“Are we ready to go in?” he says gently, but fills his voice with energy to ease the air. He turns his head to the backseat, removing the hand from Oscar’s shoulder to rub where Gemma's legs hang down. “You wanna see Nana and Grandad, baby?”
Her eyes are open, but he can tell she runs on the last of her energy. It’s past the bed-time schedule she usually follows so he’s not surprised. It’ll be good to get them settled in quickly, so a princess can get her beauty sleep after the day of travel.
She kicks with her feet a little. “Yes,” she says, voice happy but glazed over with an undeniable tiredness.
Lando looks back to Oscar, who’s gaze never left his face. He picks up his hand from the centre console and lifts it up before his lips brush the knuckles. The hand is soft in his. Warm and comfortable.
Then he grabs the car keys and his phone from between the seats and puts them in his pocket.
The cold breeze brushes his face as he opens the door, steps out and gently closes it behind him. A hand tucks into his pocket, pulling out the black beanie to comfort his chilly ears.
For a moment, he just stands there, taking in the familiar feel of his childhood home. The warmth it radiates, the ghost of his past looming everywhere his eyes land: the bane of his existence all surging from here. Theres still paper snowflakes hung on the window in the entry. They’re not that nice, paper creases visible from the folded-up way they’ve been stored between every Christmas for 10 years, and some of them gently ripped.
Though, there’s one exception — the one Gemma had made last year, red paper strewn with heart cutouts — it’s form still fully intact and a sharp contrast to Lando and his siblings’ white, should’ve-been-thrown-years-ago snowflakes.
He tucks his chin into his jacket, the cold nipping at his nose and cheeks. His breath sucks in sharp before breathing it out through his mouth, slow and steady, warming himself on it.
It’s cold, he’s uncomfortable and tired, but the feeling of being home is still the same. The same happiness and calm presence it’s always been.
And he’s with another guest this time.
While he steps around the bonnet of the car, he sees Oscar twisting his neck on an uncomfortable angle in his seat — chatting with Gemma behind him.
Lando imagines his voice. Soft, warm and quiet — the way it always is when he’s speaking to a child that’s below their usual energy-level. He’s done it plenty of times before, and it hits Lando this way every time, like honey melting in tea, just how good he is with Gemma. It’s just something about the way they’ve only known each other since they met in the middle of June — but he loves her like it’s been years. Like it’s natural, like this dynamic they have — their little family of three — was meant to be.
Oscar’s car door opens with a click as Lando shifts the handle. He shuffles backwards — opening the door further for Oscar to step out.
He takes a moment, mumbling something softly at Gemma before looking at Lando. Both his feet step out, hand holding the frame of the door to pull himself up.
Softly, Lando closes the door behind him. It’s quiet around them, any sound at all swallowed up by the heavy falling of white flakes.
It only breaks when Oscar walks, the crunch of the snow squeaky under his feet as he steps towards the trunk.
Lando follows after him, letting him know with a whiny noise to pause before pulling the back open.
Oscar turns to him, and Lando looks at the deep pink bridge of his nose. Outside for 20 seconds and his face shows visible evidence.
They’re standing close — so close that Lando can feel the hot breath from Oscar’s mouth between every faint gust of wind. And so close that the look in Oscar’s eyes tells him everything he needs to know.
Lando can’t resist the pull of his cheeks, fondly looking up at him.
“Are you okay?” Lando asks, gently, through an even more gentle smile.
Brown eyes are locked with his. Warm, but nervous. It shifts slightly, when Lando reaches his hands up to run them into the sides of Oscar’s hair. He’s probably messing it all up, the way his hands comb the melting snow in between the strands.
“Yeah.” Oscar mumbles. His eyelids flutter.
Lando’s hands move to cup the sides of his face; one of his thumbs gently tracing Oscar bottom lip. For a breath they just stay like that — the snow soundlessly falling everywhere around them.
“It’ll be fine, Osc,” Lando whispers. “They’ll love you.” His fingers slide gently over the pale winter skin as he speaks, tracing a path of warmth across his cheeks.
It feels awfully much like a movie, Lando thinks. Scenic in a way that only comes like this — vulnerable and soft. The brush over Oscar’s skin, a path of pink following where his thumbs move. The eyes in which they’re looking at each other with.
Theres only one thing missing to turn this into a scene straight out of Lando’s guilty-pleasure films.
And giving it to him, Oscar tilts his chin down, face inching closer to Lando while his eyes drift down like a silent plea for reassurance.
Who’s Lando to make him wait?
It’s soft when their lips meet; as soft as the snow landing like a cushion on top of their heads. But cold, also, when Oscar’s hands slip up his sides under his big puffer.
He lets out a squeal into Oscar mouth. There’s a soft smile against his lips at the reaction, as the hands moves onto his back instead — over the jacket, now.
Lando’s thumbs pet at Oscar’s skin, hoping he can feel the way he's trying to express everything he’s already said multiple times before this trip even began. Just be yourself, you’re okay, I’ll take care of you, I’m here with you, you belong.
The kiss doesn’t last long, but still, Lando inhales deep when they pull apart. Oscar’s cheeks are even more pink — from the cold or the affection, Lando doesn’t know. Both probably.
Theres a trembling sweetness in the way Oscar leans into Lando’s touch. A gentle insistence wrapped in shyness, and Lando feels a swell of protective awe at how small and tender he is. A little ironic isn't, with the way Oscar towers over him with a few inches.
“You ready to go in?” he asks slowly, voice low under the soft duvet of snow coating his words.
Oscar faintly nods his head. A movement so small that Lando hardly catches it if it hadn’t been for the soft hum following. He feels his heart swell fondly at the shy boy cupped between his hands.
“You grab the bags, I'll get Gemma?” he asks.
The same hum fills the air.
Lando rises to his toes a little, placing a quick, soft peck to pink lips before he reaches just over for Gemma’s car door.
She’s sat with her head leant back on the headrest of her chair, eyes open and looking out on the lit house. Her eyes flicker to Lando when the door opens, before she stirs. The cold air feeling like a smack as it wraps around her body.
Her jacket is on, the new one Lando had bought for her when winter came, since she’s still growing too much for clothes to still fit a year on. It’s pink, thick all over, and lined with fleece, also wrapping into the hood. The fuzzy material matches the two ears on the top of it, making her look like bear when it’s tucked over her head.
The car has been warm and comfortable the whole trip — no need for a jacket. But 30 minutes upon arrival she’d whined ‘Daddy, my legs are sleeping,’ which led to a quick limb-stretching-break looking over the snow-covered landscapes before settling back in, fully dressed.
“Hi, Gems,” he murmurs at her while his knuckles brush her cheek. “Lets go in, now, yeah?”
She mhmm s and lifts her head off the headrest. The excitement she feels shines through her tired state.
Lando loves how social she is, loves the way not even a disease like too-little-sleep-for-a-3-year-old can really take away the excitement of meeting people she loves.
He leans into the car for her arms to settle around his neck as he lifts her out.
When she’s propped on his hip, he leans back slightly, getting a better grip at her with one hand. The other reaches up to her head, hand travelling to the hood of her jacket to pull it over her reddening ears, hiding her from further discomfort.
Two long braids fall out of it and over her jacket. A little messy, a little wonky from the inexperience of the long, soft fingers who’s braided them.
He shifts back again, enough to shut the door closed and pull the key out of his back pocket to lock the car before holding Gemma with both his palms. Behind them is Oscar with his cheeks full and pink from the cold — matching with Gemma whose apples are painted the same way. The tips of their noses are flushed.
Lando’s sure his own is, also. If the stinging of the cold is anything to go off.
There are two bags over Oscar’s shoulder, a smaller one dangling from his hand. The knuckles around it are slightly white, his grip tightening with nerves.
Behind his neck, Gemma's hand hold on tight from the cold.
She’s tucked her face closer to Lando’s. Like she’s trying to stay warm from the heat of his body. The teddy ears on her hood brush against his cheek and chin.
Over the crunch of the snow, his feet begin moving towards the front door. He’s about the turn his head over his shoulder, when he realizes Gemma is checking for him — making sure Oscar is following heel.
“Os,” she says in a super cute stern way. Lando might melt. “Come.” He feels a hand slip from around his neck and looks softly down at her to confirm that she’s waving Oscar up to them.
A soft laugh slip from both their lips at her behaviour.
“I’m right here, Gem.” Oscar exclaims a little dramatically, but his movements are still painted in a soft shy haze.
And he is, he’s only a step or two behind Lando.
She’s kind of like a little puppy — looking back at each of them to make sure they’re always close, always safe.
Lando pauses for a second, making Oscar fall into step right next to him. He shifts Gemma to his one hand again, the other reaching up and brushing across the wide spread of Oscar’s upper back. A presence meant to be settling, grounding, a way to say it’ll be fine as if those words hasn’t echoed around Oscar for two weeks already.
As they reach the porch, Lando gives Oscar’s shoulder one last squeeze before knocking on the door. Knuckles softly brushing the wreath as he does so.
There’s sound from the other side of the door. Lando imagines his mums face, smile already wide as she makes her way from the kitchen to the hallway, yelling ‘they’re here’ at his dad. Footsteps close in on them, and Lando can’t tell why he’s holding his breath.
With a click, the door opens.
Cisca pushes it wide open, gushing at them to step in. “Come, come,” she rushes, waving a hand with a smile over her features and a glimmer in her eyes. “It’s way too cold out there!”
Lando steps in first with Gemma in his arms who’s wiggling and giggling.
“Nana!” she’s exclaiming with the last of the energy in her body.
Oscar follows them promptly in the door, setting the bags down on the floor before reaching behind and tugging the door closed with him.
“You made it!” his mum’s smile is large across her face as her attention flickers between all three of them stood just inside the door.
“Mhmm, finally,” Lando says, her smile pulling the same one out of himself. One of his hands reaches up for Gemma’s head, tugging the hood off.
She squeals happily in his arms, but her wide grin gently turns into a yawn that’s too big for her face.
“Honey, you must be so tired,” his mum says, walking up to Lando side, pulling a hand up and softly rubs her knuckles over her cheek.
Gemma’s head tilts softly on his shoulder as she ‘hmm’s.
Lando sees it on her, the way her entire body is exhausted. Silently he regrets going to the gym that morning: they’d been here earlier, then. Giving Gemma time to properly hang with her grandparents in a state more half-awake than half-asleep.
He kisses her temple in apology.
“Say hi to you and grandad before sleeping,” Gemma breathes out through her slow voice. Her blinking is threatening to pull her eyes permanently shut, but her mouth is still turned up in a tiny smile.
Lando’s mum looks at her through precious eyes. “You sweet girl.”
Her gaze switches to Lando then, looking at her son with a look that is nothing but pride, joy and pure happiness. “Hello, darling. So good to see you,” she says with voice and smile oh so gentle.
He can’t help but hold Gemma a little together in his arms.
“You too, mum.”
And it really is. They had spoken over face time somewhere around his birthday, and plenty more phone calls that variate between a brief ‘hi, how are you?’ and longer catch ups on whatever Gemma’s learned in school recently, or how Oscar’s been.
Still, he hadn’t seen her since September, so he feels an edge when he thinks about his mum standing right in front of him.
He misses his mum, sometimes. More often than not. Whether it’s Gemma who started dance with a girl in her class a couple months back, or that he’s tried to get better at cooking recently, he wishes his mum could be there all the time. To watch him experience all these things in his life.
But at least they’re here, now. Together. All of them.
For the first time.
So, when his mums grip loosens around his shoulders, he follows her closely where she’s approaching new territory.
Her eyes are looking at Oscar with the same look she’d given him. It tugs at Lando’s heart.
And Oscar smiles so politely back at her. Lando desperately wants to kiss him about it — or cry; maybe he’ll do both.
“Oscar—” she says, eyes gentle as she opens her arms when approaching him. Lando catches the subtle panic-y shift in his gaze, nervous habit so small you wouldn’t notice unless you’ve been studying Oscar’s behavioural patterns practically every day over the last year. Though, the look is quickly washed over.
“We’re huggers here, I hope you don’t mind.” she warns him, before engulfing his tall figure in a gentle embrace.
It’s stiff and a little awkward: Lando can tell from Oscar’s expression and his shy, little laugh as he murmurs ‘all good’.
God, he’s so fond of him.
Her palm lingers on the outside of his shoulders when she’s pulled away, the same way she had with Lando. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Oscar,” she says, voice so encouraging and soft. The same way Lando does when he’s meeting one of Gemma’s new friends in preschool — like a way of reassuring. Adapting to the person he’s speaking to, to make sure they’re comfortable.
“You too,” Oscar replies. His fingers are gently pulling at the edge of his jacket. “Thank you so much for having me,” he says, and with that damn soft, adorable, polite smile that Lando can’t get enough of. There’s probably another universe where Lando died when this happened. Cause of death: Oscar’s cuteness.
Gemma feels a little extra heavy in his arms when his mum turns to look at him, hands still on Oscar’s shoulders. “From all we’ve been told,” she starts, her eyes crinkling before she’s even finished speaking. “It really is our pleasure.”
He feels their gaze on him while he keeps his look on Gemma. A blush crawls into his cheeks at the mention of his inability to shut up when it comes to Oscar Piastri.
Without looking, he just knows that Oscar turned a little pink also, the sound of his laugh warmly running through Lando’s ears. Brown eyes bore into the side of his face, can feel the warmth and softness that’s being conveyed through it. Those specific eyes that Oscar gets sometimes, them who never fails to make Lando flustered. Causing a flutter in his belly like butterflies.
Gemma keeps him distracted while the soft conversation of his mum and Oscar run through the open hallway. She’s tucked in his arms, head gently leaning on his shoulder as her eyes stare into the main part of the downstairs.
Lando can hear the cracking of the fireplace from the living room, and the heated floors make the house a big difference from the pinching cold of the outside. Their big puffers are getting a little too warm.
So, he whispers to Gemma a little warning, before gently leaning forward, making sure both her feet are properly steadied on the floor before letting her go.
She almost reaches his hips now, when she’s standing next to him. While she’s less than three months shy of four. She’s a tiny one, for her age. But Lando swears she’s growing quicker the past weeks than ever.
He bends down on his knees and then they’re eye to eye. Her lids drowse tiredly but she’s determined to stay awake for now.
She reaches her arms out to the side, the way she always does when Lando takes off her jacket. So, he reaches up for her zipper, tilting her chin up with his other hand to carefully drag it down to slip it off one of her shoulders. She turns — back against him, so he can pull it down her other arm.
Her skin in warm where he puts a hand around her stomach, steadying her to take off her shoes next. Tiny feet gently slipping out of the winter boots after Lando have tugged the Velcro open. Her body lean back into Lando’s chest slightly, where she’s stood between his legs with one of her hands weakly holding onto his thigh.
He kisses her temples multiple times after taking off both her shoes, placing them on the matt next to the door.
As he stands back up, Gemma shift to look where the sound of footsteps come from around the wall to the living room.
“Grandad!” her voice pitches up again, when Lando’s dad rounds the corner of the kitchen. She stays perched where she is, steadily against Lando’s leg but her feet trample a little in excitement.
“Hello!” Her voice gets a playful accent to it, curving her ‘l’s and dragging out her ‘o’.
When Gemma deems the distance close enough, she walks over to his dad’s leg instead, who ruffles her hair gently. “Hi!”
Lando uses the getaway of Gemma to undress himself as well. He steadies himself with one hand on the doorframe to toe off his shoes before neatly placing them next to Gemma’s.
It feels good to unzip his jacket, letting his body breathe without the extra layer of warmth.
He looks over to Oscar, who had thought the same. He’s standing carefully in the same place he had been, with his dark blue jacket slung over his arms like he doesn’t know where to put it.
Lando wants to gather him up in his arms.
He shrugs off his own jacket as he takes the few steps that’s between himself and Oscar.
“I’ll take it for you.” Lando hears the softness of his own quiet voice.
Oscar reaches it up to him gently, and Lando takes the thick fabric out of his hands.
He brushes past him, strolling up to the floor to ceiling cabinet against the wall. It always feels a little unusual that it so empty, compared to how it used to be — filled with coats from all four kids and their two parents.
He grabs a hanger, puts Oscar’s jacket up first before doing his own. Gemma’s, he hangs neatly on the rack on the wall next to the cabinet. The rack that's been there since he was a kid, his jackets always hanging there at a hight that he could reach.
When he turns back around, Oscar stood a little closer looking at him.
Lando smiles.
“Okay?” he says softly, not loud enough for anyone else but them to hear. His hand reaches for Oscar’s forearm.
Theres a look in Oscar’s eyes that is so gentle, like he’ll rip at the seams any moment. Gently his head moves, nodding at Lando with his cheek bunched up the tiniest bit.
A squeal comes from Gemma further into the hallway. Both their attention turns towards it — Lando looking slightly over Oscar shoulder and Oscar turning his body fully.
Cisca is crouched down in front of Gemma, her hands tickling her sides as they’re laughing.
It makes Lando smile as he leans closer towards Oscar, hugging his side. He’s just so happy. And so fond of the way Gemma lights up the room she enters. He wouldn’t trade this life for anything, he thinks as he squeezes his fingers around Oscar’s bicep.
Gemma’s eyes look at him gleaming over his mums' shoulder, pleading at him happily. So, he takes Oscar’s hand in his own, dragging him along behind him as he’s walking up towards his parents.
“Hi, dad,” Lando smiles.
Adam’s attention turns to them, then.
Lando thumb rubs softly against Oscar’s knuckles before letting go, reaching out to hug his dad.
It doesn’t last long, as his dad seems so eager to rather speak to the boy behind him.
“Ah, Oscar!” Adam starts, eyes looking over Lando’s shoulder before he steps to the side. “Welcome. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Oscar steps forward, shoulder to shoulder with Lando as his dad reaches forward, pulling him into a quick hug.
“Thank you — you too,” The tone of his voice is laced with false confidence, like he’s trying to act steadier than he is. Lando reaches a hand behind him, running it up his back. “Thank you for having me,” he repeats the same way he had to his mother.
Landos thumb rubs circles over his tee.
His other hand reaches for Gemma’s head where she’s returned to his leg, her two hands weakly grabbing his jeans.
“How was the drive?” Adam asks, eyes flickering between the two of them.
And Lando tells them, how it’s been smooth. Couple stops along the road for some leg stretches and food breaks. The snow had been heavy for the first 30 minutes but calmed down after. He talks and occasionally Oscar would chime in with a ‘mhmm’ or ‘yeah’ and a nod of his head.
The conversation goes on, drifting between the drive and new-year-plans, still stood in the middle of the entrance, until Gemma’s body leans heavily against Lando’s leg. Her head leaning its weight on the side of his leg, as her eyes blink in slow intervals. “It’s been a day, but we made it, didn’t we.” he says, attention on Gemma as he rubs her head.
There’s a pause, where the only sound is Gemma’s soft breathy sighs.
He looks up at his mum and she takes the hint. “Both rooms are made upstairs for you, sweetheart.”
“Thanks so much.” He turns his head to look at Oscar who’s looking down at Gemma. “Think we’ll just put her to bed.” His voice pitches up slightly when he speaks again, his fingers trailing down Gemma’s braid and bending over to get her attention on him. “Finally getting some proper sleep, Gem?”
An agreeing sound leaves her.
His parents chuckle at her fondly.
“Take your time — we’ll wait up for you,” his mum says, head tilted and eyes soft.
He speaks his gratefulness before leaning down to lift Gemma onto his hip as Oscar gets the bags over his shoulders.
The hallway splits in two further into the house, a wall separating the living room and the kitchen space. Half the breakfast table is visible from where they are, Lando makes out the spread of night snacks and whatever tea that’s made on it — probably have been there a while, waiting for their arrival.
Not much changes around here between his visits, but along the wall of the stairs that’s just slightly in and on the right of entry, there's a new consol table. Or, not new — it’s been moved from where it’s always been next to the fireplace. The top is littered with photo frames and a big bouquet of red and pink flowers. There’s also a trail of photos and drawn pictures on the wall behind, couple of Gemma’s, his own, and his siblings’.
The angle he’s looking at it from is awkward, but Lando swears he makes out one of his own selfies on the frames put on the small surface. It’s one he’d sent to his mum early in November. The caramelly hair of Oscar sticking out against his and Gemma’s brown curls. Half her face covered with a big cinnamon bun.
Warmth blooms in his chest, but he tugs his eyes away and forces his feet to move towards and up the stairs. Oscar follows pursuit behind. Lando looks at him from when he’s reached the top — easing his way up another floor with big bags dangling over his broad shoulders. He makes everything look so easy, Lando thinks, smug smile tugging his lips.
Oscar’s eyes meet his when he’s next to him. Eyebrows pinching together in a teasing manner.
Lando lifts a hand up, pointing over his shoulder at the closed door there. “You can put our bags just there for now,” smile still evident in his voice. “Gemma’s room is here,” he continues as he slowly turns to walk over to the door further down, next to his own room.
The sound of their bags slumping down mix with the familiar creak of the old floors. The one’s he’s walked a million times, moving around the spots he knows where the creak is extra bad. Oscar following behind, floor singing with every step. Something about it makes Lando feel so much.
But at this point, what doesn’t?
A soft pull of the ajar door exposes Gemma’s room, or the room that’s turned into Gemma’s room. The period of Gemma from one to two years old they’d spent much time here at his parents' house. Just casual help with whatever — when being just the two of them had been a lot. It had caused the guest room to become Gemma’s room — easy with the way their rooms are next to each other.
In the middle of the room is her bed, tiny against the size of everything else, curtains draping on both side of it, tucking her in like a princess.
The room isn’t small, but the furniture and the clutter make it feel that way — small in the way that kind of feels like a hug. Comfortable and familiar, in the way everything in this house is.
It goes smoothly with Gemma, even though she’s been running awake 3 hours past bedtime at 7. Lando sets her down on the bed, and shovels through the bag Oscar puts down, looking for pyjamas. He picks out the pair she’d ran up to him with when he’d been packing the last stuff down earlier that morning. It’s pink, dotted with small teddies all over.
It had been an early Christmas gift from Oscar’s siblings: the card it came with stating specifically that it should not be waited to be opened.
Not that Gemma really knows Oscar’s siblings — heard of them, sure, seen them in face-time calls, but the sentiment still brings Lando joy. He’ll have to thank them properly, when they end up going to Australia some time.
Oscar is perched against the doorframe as Lando tucks her in. Pressing kisses to her forehead before reminding her, “Me and Oscar are in the room next door if you need anything.”
She hums an acknowledging sound as Lando steps towards the door.
“Oscar—” she murmurs in her half-asleep state. Oscar makes out her hand in the dark, waving him forward. “Come.”
So, he strolls over the floor, crouches down at her bedside as she mutters “night, night.”
Oscar’s hand reaches for her face; a thumb familiarly strokes over her eyebrow. “Goodnight, Gem,” he whispers back. “See you in the morning.”
Lando’s waiting just outside, a hand holding the door open as the scene in front him unfolds.
His heart melts, same as ever.
Slowly he closes the door after Oscar’s stepped out, leaving a slight gap in it. His eyes stay trained on Oscar as he walks towards Lando’s door.
Their door, he presumes. The thought makes his insides gooey.
He stands there, thinking, his hands clasped together in front of him. Theres a mix of feelings inside him. Gratefulness: always, but also a nagging undertone of something else. Anxiety, maybe, some sort of gentle dread.
To Lando, it feels like they’ve known each other for forever. But realistically, they haven’t. No matter how it feels, there’s only so much you can learn about someone in the 8-month time period since they met.
“You okay?” Oscar says, voice lazed with a smile through concern.
It pulls Lando out from his thoughts, realizing that Oscar is gesturing to the door.
“Yeah,” he breathes out before sliding his feet along the floor and grabbing the handle of the door. The heater is going, his mum turning it up a little more for him than the rest of the house. She knows the way he runs cold.
But the feeling stimulates him wrong, now. With the nerves crawling around in his abdomen.
Oscar steps in before him, slumping the bags down in front of Lando’s tall dresser just on the left of entry. Lando follows behind, reaching his hand up just by the doorframe, using the back of it to flick the light switch.
“So,” Lando starts, “this is my room.” He hates how shy his voice sounds.
But as brown eyes flicker across the room, Lando’s stomach can’t help but curl with anxiety, only now realizing that Oscar’s stepping into the room of a version of Lando that he’s never known. Stupidly, it’s making him self-conscious.
And hyper-aware about every interior decision he made up till 18 years old.
He’s always quite liked his room — the bed straight in from the door (the only way he’d be able to face the window) and a full body mirror to the right, the closet to the left. Posters and painting colour the wall, making the pale blue only peak out in certain areas. Theres a shelf above the headboard of his bed, scattered with books he’s never read and stacks of video game cases.
Next to the closet, his room curls around a corner where his desk is, gaming chair perched in front and the surface is littered with more games and a stack of pens.
It feels childish now, which he guesses makes sense, because it’s hardly been changed since he was a child, so. Just the new addition of some photos of Gemma as a baby hung up over the bedside and her occasional drawing with massive and super wonky letters that Lando knows doesn’t, but she swears it says ‘I love you.’ It’s the sentiment that counts.
After what feels like an eternity, Oscar’s eyes pry back to his.
“Cute,” is the first he says, smile curling into his apples. “’S very you.”
Lando probably blushes, with the way his cheeks heat up to the same warmth of the room.
“You think?” He bats his lashes at Oscar, who steps closer to him, arms reaching for his waist.
Oscar humms. “There’s a lot of Valentino Rossi, though,” he grins. “Didn’t expect that.”
A sound like a laugh mixed with a groan leaves Lando as he tips his head forward on Oscar’s chest, anxiety long gone.
“But it’s fine. Small price to pay,” he continues, and Lando’s cheeks continue to burn. “As long as you don’t leave me for him.”
Oscar’s arms fully engulf Lando, now. His hands intertwined on Lando’s back, not allowing him to escape.
Lando looks up. “Shut up,” he whispers. Nose scrunching up at Oscar. His eyebrows join — pinching together in false annoyance and Oscar’s grin grows wider.
Leaning up on his toes, Oscar’s smile feels intoxicating against his own mouth. Like a drug he’ll never get enough of, that he’ll never stop wanting. It settles somewhere deep in his chest — his heart, maybe. Warm and steady and quieting every crease and corner of the room, the house.
Oscar lingers there, close enough that their breathes tangle, eyes crinkling at the corners like he knows what he’s doing. A thumb brushes his cheek — gentle and unmistakably affectionate. The smile has turned into a look. The same look Oscar gives him when gratitude softens his whole face like he can’t quite believe this is real. The same look that graced over Lando’s skin when he whispered ‘I love you’ for the first time.
His heels land on the floor as Oscar leans down to meet him instead, his arms wrapping around Lando’s back as Lando’s engulf around Oscar’s neck.
They stay there for a while, hidden behind the walls that shaped Lando into who he is, both sharing an unspoken promise that there’s no hurry to move. The comfort of each other feeling like all they need. His parents can wait a few more minutes.