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1.
The whole soulmate thing had been a bit weird from the get-go, someone on the other side receiving whatever marks someone had drawn on their skin. Lando remembers his mum hurriedly writing down last minute groceries on her hands, his dad’s arms becoming streaked with words, loving reminders as they wandered between grocery aisles.
It wasn’t a guarantee, the marks. The majority of the population never got them; a small percentage of others found that whatever force was connecting people simply got it wrong.
Lando had always loved the idea of them, the idea that someone was out there, perfectly matched to him, he perfectly matched to them, made him feel less lonely in the whirlwind of karting tracks and travel which defined much of his childhood.
The marks usually manifested in late teenage years, matched scribbled drawings appearing across the globe. Lando got his first when he was nineteen.
Freshly signed to McLaren for his first season, Lando had somewhat come to terms with the fact that there wasn’t going to be someone out there meant for him, he’d have to do it the old-fashioned way like the other 65% of the global population.
He’d been sitting in his drivers’ room, pretending to be prepared for his first qualifying as an official F1 driver before a weird prickling sensation shot up his forearm. He froze, eyes wide as an incredibly accurate diagram of a v10 engine took shape on his arm. The first incredulous thought he had was that his soulmate was a car nerd. He could deal with that. An incredulous laugh slipped out of him; he could definitely, 100% deal with that.
He was suddenly scrambling around the room, desperately looking for a pen to signal his existence to the other person. Finding an uncapped Bic in the corner of a table under a stack of telemetry datasheets, which he held up triumphantly, he was suddenly faced with a decision…. What the hell would the first thing he send to them be?
The thing is, it was generally taboo to send words before you’d met the person, some kind of unspoken rule. Lando wasn’t exactly sure why, but he wasn’t about to start tempting fate right now, especially after fate had been rather nice to him lately, with the whole F1 contract and all.
That left drawings in the equation, like Pictionary, but the person on the other side was someone who the universe decided should be your perfect match. No pressure, maybe brush up on the art skills.
Lando hovered the pen over his skin before doing a quick doodle of a race car. May as well exploit their similarities from the start. Now the wait for a response.
He stood in the middle of the room, just staring at his arm, deaf to anything else, waiting for his soulmate to finish their probable freakout at someone being on the other end, a connection finally free of static.
That was where Jon found him, minutes later, opening the door with an annoyed huff
“y’ alright mate? I’ve been knocking on the door for the last two minutes straight- ” he cut off as he saw Lando still stood in the middle of the room, gripping a pen in one hand, the other arm held halfway in front of him, eyes impossibly wide.
“Is that-“ Jon started, hesitantly.
Lando just nodded at the unfinished question, eyes still wide and disbelieving.
Jon floundered slightly before making up his mind. “You’re gonna be late for quali” he stated, almost regretfully.
Lando stared at him for another half beat before blinking and coming back to himself.
“Oh Shit!” he yelped, before darting around the room, trying to gather his things again. How the hell had he forgotten he was quite literally minutes from getting inside the car for quali.
The prickling started up again, this time on the inside of his wrist. A small planet earth took shape on his skin.
Jon watched quietly as Lando scribbled a crude Union Jack onto his arm, Lando thanked fate, once again, that the British flag was reasonably easy to draw as he dropped the pen, yanking down his sleeve and practically sprinting out of the motorhome.
The shock of qualifying p8 in his first ever Grand Prix left Lando buzzing with adrenaline as he got out of the car. Grinning almost maniacally under the helmet. He was rushed back to the motorhome to change; the Melbourne heat was no joke.
In the rush of quickly shucking off his race suit and throwing on a polo he completely missed his soulmates recent addition to his flag.
As he was waiting for media, he turned to see Daniel sidle up to him.
“Feeling patriotic today mate? Didn’t know you claimed Melbourne as a home race too”. He joked, grinning in Lando’s direction.
Lando made a confused noise in response while Daniel gestured towards his arm. Lando followed to where Daniel was pointing to find his soulmate had extended the lines around his Union Jack, adding a southern cross and a seven-point star. Depicting what was unmistakably an Australian flag, matching those on display around the circuit.
Lando grinned at the drawing. An Aussie! Before turning back to Daniel “ah no, I didn’t draw that-“ he trailed off as he realised that if Daniel had noticed the drawings, the media certainly would too. He froze before blurting out.
“Shit, I need a jacket”, he looked around wildly for a member of his team, someone who he could hopefully steal some sleeves from. While Daniel just watched in amusement as he ran off.
By the time he had acquired a hoodie, media was in full swing, and he was being ushered from place to place, no time to doodle a response. Every time he managed a look out into the Albert Park crowds though, he couldn’t help but think maybe his soulmate was one of them, grinning to himself at the thought.
2.
Oscar had been mindlessly doodling an engine diagram, a copy of something he’d seen in the garage at one point, waiting for a flight with some of the other F3 guys. Nothing out of the ordinary, he definitely wasn’t expecting a response.
Not to say Oscar didn’t have a whole lot of hope in the whole soulmate thing. He just didn’t personally know anyone with them, so it wasn’t something that crossed his mind a whole lot, especially while half asleep in an airport while watching Logan scroll mindlessly through some truly concerning reddit threads in effort to keep himself awake.
That is to say, the response of a small race car was entirely unexpected, resulting in an embarrassing jolt by Oscar as he registered the small doodle, dislodging Fred, who he’d been leaning against and in turn Logan, who had been leaning on the other side. He almost sent them all onto the floor in a big heap of prema driver as they balanced precariously on the long airport waiting benches.
Obviously, this caused a bit of a scene, attracting attention not only from his teammates who he had almost sent to the floor but also other drivers waiting in the lounge. Logan let out a strangled sound as he managed to barely stay upright.
“Hey, what the hell was that?” he threw in Oscar’s direction, who cringed.
“Sorry, sorry!” he placated, throwing his hands up in a peace offering, conveniently putting both his and his recently discovered soulmate’s drawings on display. This small fact was picked up very quickly by Fred, who’d been half-heartedly watching Oscar draw the engine earlier, no sign of race car. Fred sat up quickly in realisation, dislodging Logan once again, to the Americans displeasure as he failed to catch himself twice and tumbled to the floor, landing with a dull thump.
“Hey, what’s that?” he pointed out the doodle, everyone’s attention snapping to Oscar, even Logan stopped his grumbling from the floor to look.
Oscar, feeling a bit caught out, responded “I don’t know? I didn’t draw it”. That caught even more attention, in seconds, Oscar was surrounded by a small group of other drivers, his arm held out on display like a butterfly on a pinboard.
Someone had procured a pen out of seemingly nowhere and was hovering it threateningly above Oscar’s arm. Oscar reached out and snatched it from their hand with his other arm, thankfully not pinned, while desperately wriggling away from the small group that had formed around him.
As far as he knew, none of the other guys had developed soulmarks, the majority of them still within the age group where they started popping up, and even then, it would be statistically unlikely that more than a couple would even get them. That is to say, he was now a bit of a novelty, especially within the bubble of airport boredom which had settled over them all.
“Calm down guys, what the hell?” he exclaimed exasperatedly. Some of them had the grace to look chastened, looking guiltily towards the floor. He walked back through the group and sat back down between Fred and Logan, figuring they were the least likely to grab the pen and draw a dick or something equally as ridiculous on his arm.
“ok” he started, before looking around the group, figuring that they were in this together now. “What do I write?”, Oscar said, somewhat desperately, looking around at the other drivers. Sue him, he was seventeen and a bit clueless with what to do when faced with a scenario he had barely entertained when thinking about the possibility of someone who had been appointed by the universe to be his ‘other half’.
Silence rang through their circle. Very helpful. Thanks guys.
Fred turned to him, “Ask where they’re from?” he tried.
Logan piped up, “How’s he supposed to do that? Can’t write words or anything”. Groans echoed through the group.
A thought popped into Oscar’s head. He bent over his wrist, uncapped pen in hand and scribbled a small globe, hoping that got the message across. Everyone waited with bated breath, watching for a response.
Suddenly, a staticky sensation crept up his arm, his fingers twitching at the unfamiliar sensation, a crude Union Jack flag etching itself on his skin. Oscar smiled slightly, ecstatic to have some information about his soulmate, even in early days. Someone sarcastically muttered from the back “well that narrows it down”, he was quickly elbowed into silence by his peers.
Just then, their boarding announcement echoed through the muffled airport speakers, their little circle quickly disbanding to grab their bags. Oscar took a breath, slightly overwhelmed at the whole situation and glad now to be left on his own. He pocketed the stolen pen, he figured he deserved it, and moved to grab his own bags, heading towards the boarding desk.
Once settled on the plane, sat once again between Logan and Fred, Logan spoke up once again.
“You gonna respond?”, he asked, gesturing to the marks.
Oscar frowned down at the British flag, angling his arm slightly, as if to get another angle of it. He bit his lip before uncapping his own pen again, pressing the nib down, right next to his soulmate’s lines, extending them carefully along the sides and drawing his stars, praying that he remembered how many stars were in the southern cross without a reference. The result was a pretty solid rendition of the Australian flag if he said so himself, enveloping two sides of his soulmates work. Attached. He grinned at his drawing, before settling into the seat properly, pen still gripped in his hand.
Next to him, Logan flipped on the Airplane tv, navigating quickly to the F1 qualifying session in Albert Park. Oscar leaned in slightly, ready to watch what the new season would bring, eyes skimming over the list of drivers named on the timing bar, his gaze lingering ever so slightly over the new McLaren line up.
3.
By the time Lando had heard the name Oscar Piastri in a way that was meaningful, it was with the understanding that he would be hearing it a lot in the future. Oscar had certainly entered the 2023 drivers line up with a bang, he thought cynically, a series of tweets and contradictory announcements ensuring that his entrance to the sport was anything but chill, a complete contradiction to the man himself, at least Lando thought so, considering his previous interactions with the guy, which were admittedly limited.
Their first official meeting took place on an absurdly early morning at the MTC in Woking. Lando had arrived, just skirting lateness, surprised to see he was there before the newly minted rookie. He had taken a seat at the table, slumping into his seat, settling into light conversation with the people around him before Oscar walked in.
He was wearing a massive black coat, hair flopping over his forehead as he made his apologies for being late, an embarrassed smile taking up his face.
He caught the rookie’s eye from across the table, sliding incrementally further into his seat as he grinned at him. Oscar matched his gaze, the pink under his eyes intensifying ever so slightly. Cute.
He blinked slightly as he brought his fingernail up to his mouth, chewing at the cuticle, a habit he had never managed to break, to the despair of his mother. In doing so, he caught sight of his soulmates most recent doodle, peeking out almost imperceptibly from the cuff of his hoodie.
Over the last four years, his soulmate had clearly tried to find something that would best communicate something to lando without the use of language. Inexplicably, they had landed on flowers about 6 months into the connection, something that had desperately confused Lando at the beginning, before sending him into a hurried deep dive into flower meanings, to the detriment of his sleep schedule in those first couple days. He now had a flower language site bookmarked on his browser, something that had gotten him a couple odd looks from Fewtrell before he explained exactly why it was there. Thankfully for Lando’s sleep schedule, his soulmate seemed to cycle through the same twenty odd flowers, meaning that by now, he'd gotten pretty good at recognising the symbols as they came.
From what he could figure, today was a new one, the trumpet shaped bloom on his wrist was a calla lily, symbolising new beginnings. When he’d figured it out this morning, he’d grabbed the pen which had become a constant companion the last couple years, drawing a four-leaf clover sprouting from the bottom of the bloom, for luck. Because although Lando was many things, his soulmate took the cake on artistry. This meant that Lando sometimes had to be a bit more… creative, when responding. His little doodles had incited a smiley face in response on occasion, so clearly whoever was on the receiving end found it endearing, at the very least.
Lando tilted his wrist lightly, exposing more of the petals, before he looked back up across the table, catching Oscar still looking at him. He straightened in his chair, tugging the cuff of his hoodie above the bloom. The whole soulmate thing was definitely not a first meeting kind of conversation, and though he hadn’t gotten a proper read on the rookie yet, he didn’t want him getting nosey, even though he didn’t seem the type to ask too much. Besides, the marks were the only connection between himself and his soulmate, and he liked keeping them to himself.
He idly wondered if Oscar had soulmarks as well, his own hoodie keeping any potential marks under wraps. He figured the likelihood of two in the same team was low, especially with the few drivers on the grid who had soulmarks. Overall, they made up of a grand total of three, a dwindling number after the departure of Seb, not that they talked about it all too much, all of them preferring to keep their marks away from the public eye, the two of them who hadn’t found recipients very aware of the copycat risk that plagued celebrity soulmate interactions.
Later, after the introductory meeting had wrapped up, as well as their shopping list of other factory tasks, Lando magnanimously decided that it would be on him to initiate conversation with the other driver. He sidled up to Oscar during their quick lunch break.
“How d’you think the car’s looking this year?” he ventured
Oscar had turned to him, shrugging lightly before answering honestly “any car’s better than no car”, he said, with the air of a person who had recently acquired freedom from reserve driver purgatory.
Lando laughed slightly, “suppose so”, he conceded. They both grinned at each other.
Soon after, they were both ushered towards some other media room, with the instructions to get changed into their race suits for the annual pre-season photo-shoot. Lando always found this part a bit stupid. Maybe he was a bit jaded but shooting photos for winning graphics that would likely gather dust dulled the shine of the whole thing, especially with his fifth year starting without any use for those graphics.
Nonetheless, it was entertaining to watch Oscar, who was clearly not completely at ease with the cameras, awkwardly move his way through enthusiastic poses at the prompting of the media team.
Lando caught himself watching, a small smile playing on his lips. Oscar looked at him from across the room, a panicked expression shooting across his face as they made eye contact. Lando grinned toothily at the rookie, before mouthing “Having Fun?”. Oscar just squinted slightly, making a face before being called back to attention by the photographer, looking chastened.
Lando watched on in amusement before frowning slightly as he looked down towards his covered marks. Guilt rose up slightly, as if his soulmate had known he was… appreciating someone else. Lando batted the feeling away. It was a difficult thing, the whole knowing that someone was out there for you, some people choosing to stay out of relationships entirely until they found their person.
Lando, four years deep, had figured out pretty quickly that that kind of approach wouldn’t work for him. He generally didn’t consider things like flings and other …connections, as slighting his soulmate, they’d probably understand, he hoped. Hell, he would understand. He did avoid long term things, knowing that it would likely just end in heartbreak.
That was a weird vein of thought to consider when looking at his rookie teammate, Lando shook himself out of it. Moving to his own place in front of the camera, Oscar angled beside him. He shuffled slightly in place, looking down. He saw Oscar turn to him in his periphery, he raised his gaze slightly, Oscar was ever so slightly taller than him, he’d just noticed.
4.
Don’t let it be said that Oscar was not normal about the people he looked up to in racing, he was totally chill, normal, cool. Most of the time.
The whole Alpine thing had cast a shadow over his entry into the sport, not exactly the way he wanted it to go. But now. Now he was confirmed in a seat, with Lando Norris of all people, the guy he’d looked up at all through karting. He was self-aware enough to be more than a little bit embarrassed about his online footprint surrounding the other driver, meaning he tried his damn hardest to keep that tidbit of information from his new teammate.
The season had started… not brilliantly. An underwhelming debut retirement, followed by some truly worrying races. A fortunate (or unfortunate for some) race in Albert Park gave him some home race points, notwithstanding that half of his competitors failed to complete the race.
He had figured out a way to better communicate with his soulmate pretty early on, inspired by an old flower language book, scavenged from one of his sisters. He figured if he was consistent with the drawings, his soulmate would pick up the cues eventually. Thankfully it worked. Oscar was fucking ecstatic when his soulmate responded to his laurel wreath (victory), drawn in response to his F3 championship win, with a tiny celebration champagne bottle.
Four and a half years on, the small pictures etching themselves into his skin remained a bright part of his day. The staticky feeling of a new doodle shivering up his arm now invoking a pavlovian response of pure joy.
All this to say, Oscar was one hundred percent sure that the little flip his heart did when Lando looked at him was just the leftovers of his little hero worship crush situation. Nothing else. Nothing at all.
Maybe ninety-eight percent would be more correct.
It’s fine, he would get over it. The thing was, was that the universe seemed to be entirely and unequivocally against his pursuit of ‘getting over it’. He would be just minding his damn business looking at Lando, no heart eyes in sight, when Lando would just do something so ridiculously endearing it kind of hurt his heart. It didn’t help that he was easy on the eyes either. Actually, Oscar would argue that it made this whole crush thing so much harder.
The worst part was that not only could he not do anything about it, he really, really didn’t want to do anything about it. He knew that permanence would be a farce, especially knowing that part of him would always, inexplicably be drawn to his other half. Every stuttered heartbeat echoed with the guilt of the person on the other end of his own marks. And then, Lando would just go and smile at him with that little half smirk which betrayed his actual amusement, not just his ‘pr laugh’, or he would swing an arm around him for photos, tucking himself in close under Oscar’s arm, or he would just appear practically naked as they got in their ice baths… That was one where oscar was glad he was also in a freezing cold tub filled with ice.
The ice bath was also integral research, showing that lando had no visible soulmarks. Admittedly, at that time, neither had Oscar. He had started the day without his usual doodle, almost guiltily hoping that his soulmate would take that as a message to avoid making their mark. This was mainly because of the whole media thing, Oscar was unfortunately intimately aware of the amount of pr that ice baths gave the teams, doubled down by the amount of scrutiny those in the public eye received when it came out that they had soulmarks. After the whole Alpine mess, Oscar didn’t think he had that much scrutiny left in him. When getting out of the tub, with a not insignificant amount of remorse, Oscar silently thanked his soulmate for not doodling on their shared canvas while he was practically naked on camera.
Now, Oscar rolled over on the impossibly tightly tucked hotel sheets of the most recent hotel, pulling a pillow over his face and pushing it down with both arms. Why was everything so damn complicated.
He pulled the pillow off his face, raising his arms above his head, in the dim light of the room, he looked at the little doodle of a frog his soulmate had placed on the inside of their elbows, presumably out of boredom, because Oscar could not for the life of him decipher what double meaning it might hold. Oscar’s soulmates drawing abilities had definitely improved over the years, to Oscar’s delight. He scrabbled over the bedside table, coming up with a pen, which he used to draw a little smiley next to the frog.
He dropped the pen back on the table, looking at the marked approval of the drawing, trying his best to dispel images of impossibly bright green eyes from his subconscious.
5.
Lando was losing his goddamn mind. The 2023 season had ended almost unfathomably well after a genuinely horrific start. Halfway through the next season and he had finally, finally, managed to find a use for at least one of those ‘winner’ graphics. Reaching the tail end of the season and it had somehow been used more times. He was also now coming to terms with the absolutely irrefutable crush he’d developed on his god damn teammate, of all people. A person he could not have a crush on for a plethora of reasons, the most prominent of these reasons being the small ring of morning glory encircling his forearm.
Over the last two-ish seasons, he and Oscar had gotten close, closer somehow than Lando had been with previous teammates, which was saying something. It wasn’t uncommon now to find both of them hiding away in one or the others drivers’ room before or after a race. Similarly, it wouldn’t be a surprise for their trainers to knock on a hotel room to find both of them sprawled over the bed, playing FIFA or Mario-Kart in the last hours of media day. Suffice to say, the whole crush thing was really not helpful for the continuance of his sanity.
What really didn’t help was that this was the season he’d been thrown headfirst into a last-minute title fight with Max. Something that absolutely no one had been prepared for, and it showed. It showed the worst in Brazil, championship hopes officially slipping through his fingers. Through the resentment of the whole thing, some relief shined through, as if some small part of him had conceded that maybe this, right now, was always going to be too much, knowing there was no real chance against Max.
It was for this reason that he decided to take a page out of his soulmates book, drawing a small columbine flower (foolishness, anxiety), traced along the veins of his arm, followed by a hyacinth (sport, games). He didn’t have to wait long for a response, head lifting from where he’d been resting it against the mattress where he’d been sitting on the floor. A small edelweiss flower joined his flower (courage), an Iris quickly accompanying it (Faith, Trust).
A huff of amusement escaped him, leaning back onto the bed, the bedframe digging into his back. He stared at the ceiling for a while, just thinking.
He was so goddamn tired.
The next morning, he met up with Oscar to fly back to Monaco with the team. He wasn’t sure if it was worse being around the team who he had let down, or worse if he’d flown back with his fellow drivers, who he knew would send well-meaning looks of pity at him until he wanted to tear his own hair out.
At least here he had Oscar, who appeared at the airport looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, despite the clocks pointing towards mid-afternoon. The normalcy of it all settled something in Lando’s chest as he shuffled over to his teammate, sitting down next to him in the airport lounge.
Oscar lifted his head in greeting “hey, mate”.
Lando sank down next to him, “hey”. His voice was quiet, grating. Unused.
There was a moment as he sat down where he caught Oscar rubbing his arm. Reminding Lando of the unfaded bouquet marking his own skin. Oscar flicked his eyes to Lando’s arm, almost suspiciously before looking fully up to meet his eyes. Lando met Oscar’s for about half a second, bathing in the warmth of it before deciding that it was too much, flipping his hood over his head and swivelling in his seat to lean back against Oscar’s arm, facing away from the team and outside the giant airport windows. Normally Oscar would complain, annoyingly jostle his arm around to try and dislodge Lando.
Today he just sat back against the seat, shouldering Lando’s weight for a minute.
+1.
Oscar was suspicious, incredibly fucking suspicious. After Brazil, the flowers had matched up almost impossibly well. The days after were plagued with constant ‘what if, what if’ scenarios circling around his head like water in a drain. For a second, an almost impossible hope had bloomed in his chest before he batted it down aggressively. He’d seen Lando’s arms, no soulmarks to be found, he was being ridiculous.
But,a small part of his brain whispered,if you didn’t draw anything, and he didn’t either, then neither of you would have marks.
He cut that thought in half, discarding it. He shut his eyes tight, there were bigger things to worry about right now, the constructors title was still up in the air, and their lead was something that could slip away at any moment.
----
Oscar pulled into parc fermé after Abu Dhabi, his disappointment at coming in tenth quickly dissipating as the infectious joy of the garage spread through the air. They’d won McLaren’s first constructors’ trophy since 1998, pipping Ferrari by only 14 points.
In amongst the spraying champagne all along the pit lane, Lando had appeared beside him, sticking resolutely to his side as they were accosted by mechanics and engineers alike, practically drowning them both in champagne.
Later that night, when the afterparty was in full swing and the haze of drunkenness had cast a blur over his actions, he found himself slurring through a conversation with an equally as inebriated Max.
Max was slurring something about letting him sign his arm, then he would have two championships, thinking back on it, this made no sense, but drunk as they were, this was maybe the smartest thing Max had ever suggested. Lando, leaning on his other side, found this concept hilarious, egging on someone to find a pen. Alex and George had joined their little group, tagging in Charles and Carlos as they tried to find a marker.
In his drunken haze, Oscar somehow failed to see how this could be a bad idea, letting his arm be manhandled into the middle of their makeshift circle as Max procured a pen from out of nowhere and signed it with a flourish, much to the enjoyment of the gathered drivers.
Everyone continued on for a bit, laughing at their little joke before George straightened up, pointing blearily towards lando.
“Oi, when’d you get him too” He slurred, squinting at the mark on Lando’s arm.
Everyone paused for a second, peering around to Lando’s arm which he had held out in front of him as he seemed to consider Max’s signature, which had mysteriously appeared on it.
Silence. Then it clicked. Alex choked on his drink.
Everyone’s heads quickly swivelled around to Oscar, who was staring at Lando’s arm, his own held uselessly in front of him, eyes darting desperately between their mirror image marks. He suddenly felt incredibly sober.
Lando seemed to click this at the same time. Freezing as he registered what had happened. Before anyone else could react, Lando had him by the arm, and was dragging him through the throng of people towards the elevators. He pushed Oscar inside before punching in their floor number. Oscar just let himself be led, his body failing to register the shock of what just happened. The elevator dinged, lando grabbing at his shoulders and half dragging Oscar towards his room. Pulling out his key card, he pushed the door open, ushering them both through the doorway.
The door shut with a dull thud, leaving the two of them standing silently opposite each other in the dim hotel room. The silence of the room stood in stark contrast to the deafening party downstairs.
“I don’t-“ Oscar started, desperately, mind still hazy and stuck in a never-ending feedback loop of ‘soulmate lando, lando soulmate’.
“we’re talking ‘bout this in th’morning” Lando interrupted. Suddenly getting up and forcing a water bottle into Oscars’ arms, chugging his own down as Oscar sat down on the bed.
He set painkillers on both side tables with another water bottle each. Oscar just watched him wander around the room, mind still lagging behind, stuck in disbelief. Lando disappeared into the bathroom before emerging in an old t-shirt and sweats. He pulled a similar outfit out of his suitcase on the floor, offering it to Oscar who took it, taking his own turn in the bathroom. He made the mistake of looking at himself in the mirror, the world suddenly seeming so much more unfocused, his vision rocking like a boat, he desperately grasped the counter, splashing his face with water before going back into the main room.
Lando was stood in the middle of the room still, his silhouette stark against the window. Oscar thought it might be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He stepped forward tentatively, grabbing Oscar’s arm, and tracing the mark, looking between their arms. He paused slightly before looking at Oscar.
“I’m so mad that we realised because of Max’s signature” he stated bluntly, effectively breaking the tension in the room. Oscar let out an incredulous laugh, bending over at the waist. When he looked up again, Lando had a pleased smile on his face, seemingly delighted to have invoked that reaction out of Oscar.
Lando grabbed his hand, leading him towards the bed. “sleep” he mumbled. Oscar, finally letting the exhaustion of the day catch up to him, agreed wholeheartedly. They both tumbled into the large bed. After a slight hesitation, Oscar turned towards Lando, reaching out to tangle their limbs together.
Lando let out a huff of breath into the junction between Oscar’s shoulder and neck, Oscar’s hands traveling up his back to card through his tangled hair. Both of them falling into dreamless sleep.
+2.
Lando was incredibly comfortable when he woke up, his face mushed up against a warm pillow.
Wait.
Lando’s head shot up, the events of the night previous suddenly rushing back, eyes meeting Oscar’s in the morning light. He squinted slightly, a headache making itself known. Oscar let out a laugh at his squinty expression, chest vibrating under lando, before sitting up and grabbing the painkillers lando had set out the night before and popping out a few of them each, handing him a water bottle as well.
“Morning” Oscar started, voice raspy from sleep.
“Morning” Lando responded, almost breathlessly, drinking in the sight of Oscar below him.
They both moved their arms slightly, moving the sharpie scribble on their arms together, the tension of the room grew thick as they both considered the mark.
“Wait!” Lando yelped, an idea popping into his head. He scrabbled around on the side table for a moment, emerging victorious with a red pen. He hesitated slightly before tipping the pen towards Oscar, a silent question in his eyes.
“I really, really don’t want the mark that made us realise be Max’s signature” Lando told him, seriously.
Oscar took the pen.
Moving up against the headboard, moving Lando so he was straddling his hips, Oscar uncapped the pen, pressing the nib into Lando’s upper arm.
Lando watched as matching lined appeared on Oscar’s arm, his face scrunched in concentration as a Chrysanthemum took shape on their arms in deep red (Love, affection).
Eyes bright, Lando moved his eyes away from the flower, Oscars fingers tracing the mark on his arm, having dropped the pen somewhere in the sheets. A gasp escaped him as his skin tingled under Oscar’s touch. Their eyes met for a second, before Oscar was moving his hands, looping them around Lando’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss.
It was perfect, Lando melted into it, only parting when neither could breathe. Oscar pulled their foreheads together, before whispering.
“We could’ve been doing that this whole time”, he sounded slightly wrecked.
Lando let out a breathless laugh, closing his eyes, “God, we’re so stupid”, he muttered.
Oscar just brought his hand back to Lando’s shoulder, tracing the shared lines once again. “at least we’re here now” he mused.
Lando hummed in agreement before drawing Oscar’s face back towards his again. They had a lot to catch up on.
++1.
Frankie @Mac1aren814 • 48m
Lmaoo did landoscar get matching tattoos? The papaya rules are papayaoing
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