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Contrary to what a lot of people seem to think, Lando does think before saying something.
Not all the time, of course, he’s human and humans sometimes allow the heat of the moment to get the best of them and say something they regret later, that paired with his age made a very fatal combination he still has to carry around, but it’s fine.
He has PR training, a lot of experience and is trained in the art of knowing when the reporter or host is looking for something in particular and will try to sneakily guide him there.
He… however, has exceptions.
“Alright, Oscar is leading, so next question is for Lando,” the host says, fans scream in excitement. “How many moles does Oscar have on his face?”
“Not even I know how many I have and—”
“Around eighteen, I think.”
There’s a very short period of time where there’s not a single sound, which feels impossible given they have a thousand fans around, before there are high-pitched screams and all kinds of expressions that little by little let what he just said sink.
Oh.
“A very confident answer,” she says, her smile screams this will be very good material. “Let’s check it out!”
Oscar’s smile is a mix of many emotions as he remains still and the host does a quick count of the moles in his face and the part of his neck that’s visible, his eyes remaining on the front, looking at the mass of people screaming and cheering only heavens know what.
She counts twenty, though she mistakes two acne marks for moles.
Wait.
Oscar looks at him.
The fans scream even louder.
They don’t talk about it once the event is done, however.
There’s not a lot of time. That event done, they move on to record a few other things, team conversations, talks with the engineers and everything that’s so normal for every single race weekend until it’s time to go back to the hotel and Lando is left alone with his thoughts.
It’s not that he ever stopped thinking about it, but alone in his room, there’s nothing else to think about and heavens if Lando’s mind is reeling.
The two McLaren drivers looking at each other isn’t really a new thing. There’s a whole category of edits dedicated to it and in Lando’s eyes, it’s not that weird. They spend a lot of time together, they share a bond that is unique since it combines both friendship and rivalry, with the collection of emotions it unleashes, most of the time having the power to either strengthen said bond or break it entirely.
Added to it, Oscar is a very entertaining individual to look at.
As the experienced and old figure he became when Carlos and Daniel left and Zak told him his new teammate was a promising one who was just entering F1, Lando saw him moving from being the awkward and inexperienced rookie to the more confident young man who created his own style with dry humour and facial expressions that conveyed things better than his own words could.
Lando had felt proud about it. Oscar wasn’t Carlos, wasn’t Daniel and it had been hard to adapt to that more reserved and introverted persona he had, but paying attention showed he had never been the ice man so many people labelled him as. His calmness during races, podiums and radios had little to do with him not feeling anything and he found that fascinating.
He liked to see his reactions, the way he laughed at his dumb jokes and comments and the way his face moved to emphasise what he was saying. And that completely normal thing had ended with him noting he had a lot of moles.
It was mostly visible when he had no makeup, which was whenever they didn’t need to record something for their own team or somewhere else, and while Lando can’t tell when in the world that happened, it was one of those times that he ended up noting them and surely counting.
Reasonable, really.
It’s not that he’s the only one who has done it.
Right?
He still finds himself rubbing his face as he goes straight to the bathroom to wash his face and change into something more comfortable to lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling as if he is in the middle of an existential crisis. Maybe he is.
Watching his phone in an attempt to get distracted backfires almost immediately. The internet has already gone wild with the video. By now, the clip has been edited with a thousand different songs and gone viral, putting emphasis on how fast and confidently he had answered, how he had been almost right, he had been right but he wasn’t going to say it, and the way he had stared at Oscar after it, with most ending with that final look Oscar directed to him.
Lando is not even subtle, anymore.
How long does he stare at Oscar to know the almost exact number?!
Do they know it’s legal?
That one does make him snort because, what? It has nothing to do with that. Oscar is good-looking, one would need to be blind to not see it, but it’s not that Lando stares at him because of that…
But then come the edits focusing on just the staring.
The way Lando looks at Oscar and the way Oscar looks at Lando.
It’s an equally popular thing but nothing that surprises Lando that much. He has of course noticed that Oscar looks at him in a very particular way, reserved to him, apparently, but it’s wild to think it has something to do with that just like his staring.
Because he does stare in an equally particular way.
A lot.
He decides to call it a day and leaves his phone as far as he can from him. Tomorrow will be better, the topic will die down like many things have done before, Oscar isn’t even thinking about that, surely.
He’s partially right.
Focusing on FP1 and FP2 does wonders to keep his mind from even going to that topic and things with Oscar are as normal. Maybe he does notice the other looking at him a bit more every now and then, despite still being busy with their own things, but nothing too bad. They go through them with the expected efficiency. Silverstone is an old friend by now and the advantage they both have allows them not feel on edge while working on strategies and everything.
Lando sees Oscar going through his laps and listening to the team when they are done. He looks mostly normal, with his hands resting on the table, expression neutral and just the normal amount of tension on his shoulders.
He laughs when Lando comes up with one of his dumb jokes, his lips curving upward, bunny teeth in full display in that adorable way as he doubles over slightly. That particular way he laughs, where he starts quiet and slightly breathless to then devolve into a slightly louder one that is so pleasant to hear, makes him smile and…
Oh.
He does stare a lot and he likes it.
Lando, of course, immediately flees from the thought. There can’t be a place for that here, Oscar is a world of his own and the least he wants is to make things weird between them. Oscar has probably pushed what happened the day before to Lando’s normal antics and that’s it. Lando is surely the only one going over and over it so he ends up there.
He needs to focus.
It’s easier to focus on it once there’s something to keep him busy, of course. FP3 goes smoothly and even when qualies are a challenge, understandable given Silverstone is a home race for many, they secure a nice P2 and P3 that has the team satisfied with the results and confident in a potential podium for the next day.
Lando does share a couple of words, normal ones, with Oscar before it’s time to go back to the hotel and the normality of it is so soothing he almost forgets the whole thing so he can finally go back to their normality.
Keyword, however, is almost.
There are small things in Oscar that don’t fall in the normal part. The way he looks away from him when Lando catches him in a not so subtle way, how he, more than once, seems ready to say something only to regret it in the last second and instead comes up with something else. Lando can’t be sure he changed subjects, of course, but at times, they do feel kind of rushed and unrelated to what they were saying.
He doesn’t find the strength or right words, to ask, though. It doesn’t seem to matter the way he asks, it will be awkward and if Oscar isn’t giving any clue, pushing will probably make it worse and end with no chance at all to even get what he wanted to say.
“Lando I…”
He turns around faster than he should have because his neck cracks a bit, but decides to use his energy in pretending to be alright instead of worrying about it. “Yes?”
Oscar’s face changes, a small crease on his brows, lips pressing in a thin line and fingers flexing lightly. He genuinely believes he will say something, but much to his dismay, he shakes his head and gives a mostly awkward smile.
“Rest well, mate, they won’t like it if you don’t sleep well.”
“Please, I have no intention of getting scolded by that.”
He snorts, rolls his eyes in that exaggerated way to make sure his response lands and sees Oscar’s face relax, as if he has successfully avoided some catastrophe without raising suspicions and Lando doesn’t have the heart to say anything else.
He still goes over it while getting ready for bed and keeps thinking about it until sleep claims him. He’s mildly surprised to find the thought still lingers, but with everything going on, it’s soon left behind.
But then Oscar wins, Lando arrives second and celebrations explode.
Someone, somewhere would have surely preferred to have Lando winning instead of Oscar, the whole homerace thing, but Lando, frankly, doesn’t care. People always say Oscar gets more excited about trivial things than winning a race, but that’s far from the truth.
There are small expressions, signs as clear as day for him that show how happy and ecstatic Oscar is about it. From the way he celebrates while on top of his car to the small twitch of his lips while raising the trophy, for Lando’s eyes his body seems to vibrate with excitement.
And just like that, he realises he’s staring again.
“Nicely done, mate,” he says when they are back at the garage, the uproar of the outside muffled as Oscar walks to his driver’s room. “I hope you don’t flee your celebration after ten seconds.”
“When have I ever done that?” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Thought you were coming?”
“Of course I am,” he snorts. “What? Want me to make sure you don’t leave that fast?”
Oscar levels him with a very unimpressed face, but he’s happy, his smile takes over his face easily and stays until they reach his door. “Then I will see you in a bit.”
Lando nods, reaching for his own door, set on focusing on having a good time because Oscar deserves it and he’s happy about his own race, too. He can leave things about that for now, there will be time to deal with it later.
Or so he thought.
“Lando, wait.”
Like before, he turns around quickly to look at him, finding him with one hand resting against the door while the other keeps holding his trophy, eyes fixed on it.
“Something wrong?” he asks, because the shift in his tone and everything makes him believe something happened in these couple of seconds, maybe Oscar is feeling sick or something.
“What happened that day,” he says after a moment, eyes still on his trophy. “That question you got right.”
So it’s about that.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward,” he says immediately, because it is surely the reasonable thing to say. “It’s just something I noticed at one point, like you coming up with the word I need and can’t find or when you get what I am going for without needing to say it… stuff like that.”
It feels much more complex when he says it like that and not quite the same, but again, ruining Oscar’s night is the least he wants.
“You got it right,” Oscar says after a moment of silence. “She counted two marks I have that aren’t moles and I just…”
The words die on his throat like that, Lando sees the fingers against the door curling slightly, he’s clearly conflicted and Lando’s heart aches because he doesn’t want that. “I’m sorry, I promise—”
“It didn’t feel wrong or, I don’t know, awkward,” he cuts him off, his eyes finally lifting from the trophy. “I was surprised, sure, but then it felt… nice and, yeah, that.”
Lando’s mind goes a bit blank for a second, with his heart spreading up steadily until he can hear it beating in his ears and everything just seems to… fall in place.
“Looking at you is one of my hobbies, apparently.”
The blush is beautiful, Oscar already is but that rosy tone dusting his cheeks and even part of his neck makes him look so much better. “What?”
“It’s better than sightseeing," he continues, he has no idea where this bravery is coming from. “They add to your beauty.”
Oscar’s breath hitches, those eyes snapping up at him with a very wide and vulnerable expression he’s fighting to shove back inside. Lando’s initial reaction is taking it back, terrified of making him uncomfortable or reading everything so horribly wrong he messed it all up, but there’s no disgust, no anger. He’s just this beautiful blushing thing that seems to be looking for something in Lando’s eyes.
“W-What are you saying?”
“They do,” he hums, his finger moving to press against the one at the left side of his jaw. “They have a pattern made to fit you entirely.”
There’s a small shudder that runs down his body as he touches each one. “Lando…”
His mind doesn’t know how to interpret the tone, so he takes his hand back and even takes a small step back in the cramped space of the corridor. “Sorry.”
But Oscar doesn’t flee, doesn’t scream at him nor shoves him further back or anything, he instead takes the same step but to make the distance Lando created disappear. His taller form is once more right in front of him and Lando looks up at his blushing face to see him struggling to find what he wants to say with not a lot of success.
Lando only hesitates for a second.
Oscar’s lips are soft, very soft despite that mania he has to constantly wet them with his tongue, and warm. They seem to perfectly press against Lando’s own and while a couple of seconds go by with him feeling anxious and feeling Oscar’s anxiousness, it washes away and he dares to move them a little, feeling Oscar do the same a second later.
The only reason he pulls back is because he suddenly remembers someone can see them, but his free hand remains holding on his arm, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips.
“Please, tell me I didn’t mess it all up.”
Oscar’s hand comes to rest on his waist, in a way that almost feels normal. Lando hears him sigh before there’s another quiet chuckle.
“I would say that once the two involved fear they messed it up, chances are, it wasn’t a mistake.”
Lando laughs, pushing lightly against his shoulder to hide the relief that flows through his veins.
“You damn muppet,” he mutters, pushing against his shoulder. “But I’m willing to give you that, so hurry, your party is waiting and people will drag you out if you take more time.”
He laughs, shaking his head and beginning to turn around to head for his door, but he stops and returns to look at him. “What if I want to celebrate with only you?”
Lando chokes on air, his heart missing a beat as he sees the smug expression on the other. He’s crazy if he believes he won this.
“You go for this celebration first,” he says, tilting his head while Oscar opens his door to head inside. “Later we have one for both, maybe I’ll get to count the rest of moles you have.”
Thank goodness the trophy is made of metal instead of something fragile, otherwise Lando would need to add another broken trophy to his list when his poor Oscar trips on the way in.