Work Text:
Lando loved seeing his boyfriend cry.
Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t a kinky freak or anything like that, much less a toxic partner, but he knew that those times in which Oscar allowed himself to cry on his shoulder, were special. They always were.
The first time he saw Oscar cry was back in 2023. It wasn’t because of a qualy or a crash. Not even because of a bad race. He was just… homesick. Terribly homesick.
Lando had knocked softly, trying to reach through that invisible barrier Oscar had been building between them over the whole week. Silent looks that told lando that something wasn’t okay, but that he couldn’t ask.
Luckily (or maybe because of Oscar’s lack of luck at that moment), the hospitality walls are as thick as a sheet of paper, so Lando heard the sobs.
They weren’t a thing back then, not an idea, but Lando couldn’t stand hearing those sounds, much less when they came from the rookie that had been trying everything to show that he could be useful for the team. To prove that they shouldn’t regret their decision.
Lando was in the hall, after having knocked twice, and he had no hopes of Oscar opening that door. Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t expect Osacr to do it so fast.
They had looked at each other. Red-rimmed hazel eyes and sparkling green ones meeting all at once, in the softest way possible.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” His voice was harsh, different from his usual, sweet voice that he used whenever he was awkward— which was, basically, all the time.
Oscar let him enter the room, getting out of his way.
The place was kind of a mess, but he was used to Oscar not being the tidiest man on Earth. He had his phone on the floor, not the one he showed for promos or the one he used for work, but his personal one. His actual phone.
He heard a click from the door behind him, then a low hit. Oscar was seated, his back against the door, not looking at Lando. Well, he wasn’t looking at anything, really, just thinking probably.
Dangerous thing.
Lando knelt next to him, seated by his side and avoided looking at him too.
“Long day?”
“The longest.” His accent was thicker, sadder. “Sorry, I shouldn’t do this at the track”
A wet laugh followed that sentence, trying to play down the situation. To mock himself for feeling.
“It’s okay. I do it all the time.” Lando smiled, looking at him. Oscar looked back, a little frown hiding his beautiful eyes. His brows turned upwards, pouting, the trembling bottom lip he tried to bite to stop feeling in front of lando, but he couldn’t contain the cry his throat was pleading him to let out.
Oscar hid his face on his knees, looking for an anchor. Lando gave him that anchor when he huggled him tightly, letting the boy take a breath in the crook of his neck.
“Hey, what is wrong, Oscky?” The Brit caressed his back gently, letting Oscar cry as much as he wanted. As much as he needed.
“I-I’m sorry, I just… It was my sister’s birthday today and I- sorry it’s stupid.”
Lando reached for his face, holding it with his hands while whipping a pair of lonely tears from his cheeks with his thumbs.
“It isn’t.” Lando promised. “Come on, tell me all of it.”
“I haven’t… like, been there for a while now. In Melbourne. And I already missed her birthday last year. And Mae’s. And fuck, Mae is just a kid and I just- I miss them. So bad.”
“And that’s okay. And you can cry because of it.” Lando assured, his glance kind. “You deserve to, and to be held while doing so, so let me help, okay?”
Oscar nodded, burying his face on the tanner boy’s chest.
“You are so kind, you know that?”
“Only for my teammates.”
And apparently, only for his family as well, as Oscar became a part of it just four months after that.
His boyfriend.
Gosh, they had been pinning for each other so bad, and now they were together. Dating. Oscar was the definition of the peak of humanity. He listened to Lando every time he felt like a failure, he banned Twitter on the house to keep Lando from spending all midnight cheeking his phone and looking for hate comments, he was the only one who knew how to give the perfect hug.
Actually, he remembered that night just fine.
Lando was hidden in their flat’s bathroom, looking at every comment in which his name was mentioned. A loser, a fag, a crybaby, a bitch… people called him everything on the list. And he couldn’t help but to stare at the screen. At the hollow insults, at his hollow reflection.
It was too late for Oscar to wake up —Oscar loved sleeping after all—, but there was a little detail Lando hadn’t taken care of.
Oscar loved sleeping with him.
“Babe?” A sleepy voice had asked for him. Oscar had entered clumsily in the bathroom, his gaze barely focusing on Lando. “What are you doing here?”
Lando had hidden the phone behind him
“Nothing! J-just go back to sleep darling, I’ll be there in a sec.”
But the Aussie didn’t. He had seated on his lap, hazel and green connecting in less than a cent.
“Where is it?”
“Where is wha-”
“The phone.” Oscar cleared. “Where is it.”
Lando, shamefully, had grabbed the device from behind his back, giving it to Oscar. The man, tired of seeing his boyfriend in pain, unlocked the phone and looked for the main source of his pain. Social media.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“No more Twitter. And you’ll only use Instagram with your private account.”
“Oscar you can’t-”
“I know that I can’t force you, babe, but this is too much.” Oscar had sighed. “You can’t just wake up at 4am just to look at some comments made by idiots. It's not healthy.”
He kissed him slowly, hugged him tightly.
“Let's go to bed, yeah?”
“Yeah, okay.”
However, Oscar didn’t want all that affection back.
Or at least, he didn’t want to show others that he wanted it.
And that, obviously, pissed Lando off. Because he didn’t know who told the sweetest boy in the world that he didn’t deserve it back. Because Oscar only rolled his eyes when Lando told him that he did.
But apparently, everything has a limit. And Oscar’s were in Canada.
It seemed like it was going to be a good weekend. Good cronos, Ferrari didn’t have all their upgrades for now and the sprint was cool, but the race was pretty different.
Maybe starting by how Mclaren turned into Ferrari in a few seconds could be fair, but he knew that not all of Oscar’s hidden sadness and showed annoyance came from that.
He knew that the frustrating part was that, even after telling the team that there was no way they could make it with those tyres, no one listened.
Lando got out of his hotel room quietly, trying not to alert anyone outside from the little closed circle that knew about their relationship. Usually, he would do that to go and fuck his boyfriend, or to cuddle, maybe even to help him dress for a party, but he had no intention on doing any of that at the moment, and he knew damn well that Oscar didn’t either.
He didn’t even knock. What’s the worst he could find in there? Oscar naked body? He’d seen worse.
He didn’t expect the shower to be running though. Oscar didn’t shower in hotel rooms, he did in the motorhome, the quickliest possible after racing to get all that sweat and, ideally, champagne.
“Oscar?”
Nothing.
Then, a little hum.
Probably, the most relieving hum he has ever heard coming from the Aussie.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Lando greeted him— using the most gentle pet name they shared— once he stepped into the bathroom. Oscar was showering with his clothes on. Bad signal.
“Hey.”
“It’s everything… alright?”
Oscar hesitated for a second, looking at his own, wet socks.
“No. Not at all.” He confessed. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry for how it went for you, Lan.”
Lando grinned softly. Yes, it had been shit, but that wasn’t the point now. He wasn’t the one in the shower after all.
“I’m okay.” He answered. He knew how much Oscar needed to know if he was alright. “Tell me why you’re hurting, darling.”
Oscar looked around.
Once.
Twice.
He turned off the tap, patting the soaked floor under him.
“Can you… come in here?”
Lando looked at him, at how tiny Oscar looked under his gaze.
“Of course.”
Lando seated, splashing some water that hadn’t dried yet.
A few beats passed until Oscar dared to speak up again, but it was just a question, a low, pleading one.
“Hug?”
Lando looked at his eyes, and again, his lips were trembling.
“Hug.”
Oscar seated on his lap, melting into his body while Lando caressed his hair with a slow, steady rhythm. It wasn’t until he felt something watering his chest that Lando whispered again.
“Words, sweetheart.”
Oscar tried to talk, but his grip on Lando's body only allowed him to let out a muffled sound.
“I’m sorry for fucking up.”
“You know perfectly that it was the team’s fault.
Oscar stopped for a second, still looking at the emptiness of the shower’s wall.
“Mclaren didn’t crash into Alex.”
Oh
Oh
So that was the problem.
“Baby.” Lando tried. “Hey, look at me.” Oscar, as he usually did, obliged. “You apologized for that, you couldn't control that. And you know that Alex is fine.”
“But what if he wasn’t? What if-if I just crashed into him because I don’t fucking know how to overtake and he got hurt?”
And then, a quiet sob. A louder one.
Oscar hadn’t cried like that for a long time.
Lando knew that this wasn’t only about Alex, that had just been the catalyst of this, but Oscar had been avoiding feeling bad for a long time now and Lando could feel it in how much he was shivering.
“I’m so sorry.” Oscar whispered once or twice, his voice broken. Lando knew that he needed to cry, though, so he confined himself to just keep caressing his hair and kissing his temple.
“Could you do… the thing?”
Lando hummed, curious.
“What thing, baby?”
“Speaking in Dutch.”
It hadn’t been long ago when they found out how comforting Oscar found the times his boyfriend cheered him up in a language he couldn’t understand, as he could only understand his tone. It let his brain switch off, to avoid trying to understand words and just… disconnect.
Lando wasn't really good at it, even if he grew up with his mum talking in that weird language that he barely could speak in, but when they did discover that, Lando started taking classes, asking his mum for words. Oscar himself knew some by now, but he would never be displeased at the way his boyfriend talked to him in every language he knew. As if he was precious.
Lando sighed, still touching his hair gently.
“Het spijt me dat je race zo'n ramp was, schat. En dat je me niet hebt verteld dat je pijn had.“ He kissed his cheek. ”Dit team... je weet dat het eigenlijk familie is, maar soms zou ik liever helemaal stoppen met de autosport dan in die auto te rijden, vooral als dat zou betekenen dat jij je veiliger zou voelen.” His eyes. ”Ik hou zo veel van je, en je bent helemaal geen slechte chauffeur, schat, je was gewoon gestrest. Dat zou ik ook zijn geweest.” His nose. “Zeg het me alsjeblieft gewoon als je je rot voelt; het is niet erg om je rot te voelen. Niemand zal je daarom nog een robot noemen.” He giggled, a cute, wet sound, as he pressed their lips together, tenderly.
There was no rush, just a lot of mutual understanding and lack of proper communication that Lando was planning to solve whenever his boyfriend felt like it. Just a little peck.
“Je bent mijn lieveling, schat. And I love you. A lot.”
Oscar smiled softly, his eyes still wet but with a flick of happiness that Lando had missed way too much over these days.
“I love you too.”
“There you go.” Lando kissed him again, just a tiny little crash of lips. Sweet. “Now, I’m gonna take care of this mess of yours because apparently, someone decided that getting all wet with his clothes on was a nice idea.” He added, with no real harsh words.
Oscar laughed, and Lando was sure that that was heaven. That that was the sound he would die to if he could choose the happiest way to do so.
He loved that man.
Lando got up in a jump, stripping his own T-shirt. It smelled like sweat and desperation. Disgusting, especially for a cuddle session. When he saw Oscar staring at him, he let out a fluffy laugh out of his laughs.
“Fancy something, babe?”
Oscar looked down, again, at his wet socks, but extended his arms clumsily.
“Hug?”
Lando melted out of cuteness, catching his hands to raise him again.
“Hug.”