Work Text:
Oscar almost jams his thumb with how hard he taps the dislike button on yet another Ferrari PR YouTube video.
“This is getting ridiculous,” he deadpans. “You should file for workplace sexual harassment, mate.”
Carlos sets his phone on his chest and looks up at Oscar from where he’s currently laying his head on Oscar’s lap. They’ve been scrolling in silence on their respective phones for almost an hour now, while lazing on Carlos’ ridiculously expensive and luxurious couch.
“What did I say about calling me ‘mate?’ And mi amor, what the fuck are you talking about?” Carlos’ stupid big brown eyes are wide with confusion and his lips are pouting in earnest.
Oscar wants to hurl himself off a cliff because now he has to explain to his boyfriend how he spent the last 30 minutes of their scheduled phone time watching Fifty Shades of Ferrari.
Wait, actually... Carlos participated in Fifty Shades of Ferrari. The man has some explaining to do.
“Fifty Shades of Ferrari. That’s what I'm talking about.”
At this remark, Oscar fully expects Carlos to start begging for forgiveness and tell Oscar, ‘No mi amor, you’re the only one I like pulling my hair, not Charles’ or ‘You are the only person I want to blindfold Oscar’ and hey, Oscar is always down for a good idea.
Instead Carlos sits up fully, which leaves Oscar’s thigh cold from the lack of shared body heat mind you, and repeats, “What the fuck are you talking about? These words do not make sense, Ferrari is mostly rosso corsa and while I am sure there are many other shades of red I am not knowing if there are specifically fifty of them—”
“No I... it's a reference to... people online are... never mind,” Oscar loves Carlos but there is a time and place to explain bad smut. “Why the hell are you and Charles blindfolding each other, pulling each other’s hair, and holding hands under red sex lights?”
Realization dawns on Carlos’ face as his lips twitch into a smile. “Ah yes, the sim lap videos! Those were so fun to make, me and Charles had many good laughs.”
Carlos has the audacity to look nostalgic talking about filming PR videos with Charles. Oscar feels like he might just pop a blood vessel if he has to keep listening to how much fun Carlos had over the years with Charles.
“He looks at you like he's begging you to fuck him,” Oscar interrupts Carlos with what he hopes is a tone that is bland enough to make Carlos think he cares about this as much as he cares about what Alpine are up to.
“Eh, he wishes,” Carlos smirks.
“Yeah that's literally what I’m saying— wait I’m sorry you’re telling me you know that he wants you?” Oscar is in disbelief and suddenly he fears that many of his insecurities are not insecurities, and are in fact very real and based in reality.
“Charles is not a good actor mi amor. We’ve been working together for four years now and have known each other even longer. I can read him very well.”
"And what about Lando?"
“I don't think Lando knows Charles that well to be honest, he has never brought this up to me.”
Oscar is many things, and a jealous possessive boyfriend is apparently one of them. If even now Carlos can’t see how Lando trails after him, still wanting after all this time, Oscar sure as hell is not going to let him know Lando is even an option.
Oscar is 99% sure Carlos wouldn’t leave him for Lando. But racers go for the gap, so. Best not give them one.
“Right. So when Charles flirts with you, both on and off camera, you know he means it? And you still flirt back?” Frustration is beginning to edge its way into Oscar’s voice.
“I am not flirting back Oscar, don’t be ridiculous. I am just teasing him for the reaction.” Carlos says matter-of-factly.
‘Is that not literally what flirting is? Is that not what you did to me? You literally crashed into me multiple times for my reactions and attention!’ Oscar feels like screaming. He wants to rip out his own hair and yank on Carlos’. He wants to storm out of Carlos’ apartment to go knock on Il Parmingiano or whatever’s door and tell him that he can’t have Carlos, he’s Oscar’s. He wants to ‘accidentally’ butt dial Lando when Carlos is on his knees and choking on Oscar’s dick or when he’s begging for Oscar to let Carlos fuck him to make it clear to Lando that he needs to move the fuck on.
He wants to yell to the world that Carlos is his, and no one else stands a damn chance if Oscar has anything to say about it.
Instead, Oscar stares at Carlos with his mouth agape in disbelief before crossing his arms and looking away with a frown on his face.
Carlos gazes at him contemplatively, before his smirk softens into a smile. In the blink of an eye, Carlos perches himself comfortably in Oscar’s lap, straddling his hips with his arms around Oscar’s shoulders.
Reflexively, Oscar’s hands go directly to Carlos’ waist to steady him.
“Oscar,” Carlos starts gently. “Are you jealous?”
In any other circumstance, Oscar would immediately start denying having ever felt anything at all. Except Carlos is so full of emotions, almost bursting at the seams with everything he feels, that he makes Oscar want to be better at expressing the things he keeps locked away behind a polite smile.
“Everyone wants you,” Oscar murmurs, looking down at how his thumbs are tracing soft circles on Carlos’ hips. “You could have anyone.”
A hand cups Oscar’s face, tilting it up so he cannot help but gaze into deep eyes framed by endless lashes.
“Don't you want me?” Carlos asks.
Oscar cannot help but exclaim in a voice slightly above what he would usually deem appropriate, “Of course I do! I love you, you know this!”
Honestly, what a ridiculous question.
“Well then if I can have anyone out of this ‘everyone’ who wants me, I want you. Because I love you too.” The softness in Carlos’ eyes and the sincerity in his voice makes Oscar’s heart ache.
“That simple?” Oscar is quiet again, hesitant because when has something so good ever been so easy?
Carlos leans in and places a gentle yet firm kiss on Oscar’s lips.
“Yes,” Carlos whispers against his mouth. “Trust me.”
As Oscar captures Carlos’ mouth with his own once more, pulling his boyfriend closer while trying to pour all the devotion he feels into one measly kiss, all he can think is, ‘I do.’