#though i do respect that og chicken comes in a giant pack called a hungriman and an even bigger one called beliful

[scenetocause]

no one asked for this but i was in the kitchen makin instant ramen and poleaxed by the thought of landoscar puppy play post-melbourne in the style of a fic i thought was gemjam's but now can't find where mark webber gave his then-protegee mitch evans a collar to help with homesickness anyway whatever have some fuckin words

edit: fuck's sake cassian obviously it was a collar and a kiss by zeraparker

mild warning for hopelessly undernegotiated kink

"Don't you ever get homesick?" Oscar could count the number of people he'd less like to be having this conversation with than Lando Norris on one hand and one of them's the bored immigration officer who had to tell him he'd not got his passport stamped right in Doha.

Lando snaps his gum, looking up to the ceiling like he's actually thinking about it. "No? Not really. I was sick of fucking Bali over Christmas, jesus and I don't want to go back to Dubai but like, home is everywhere innit?"

"No." Oscar closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. Obviously Lando doesn't experience this, he could literally drive to his parents' house on half a tank of fuel, straight out of the MTC car park. Straight from Oscar's flat, where for some reason he's letting Lando crash as though him seeing the post-Australia comedown is a good idea.

"Hmm." Hearing Lando think is always disturbing. "Well, what can I do about it?"

Oscar has to open his eyes again in disbelief. 'What do you mean do about it?"

Seeing Lando cocking his head on one side, like a dog, makes something painful sear across Oscar's temples. "You're sad, I want to fix it. Max always-"

"Don't tell me about that." He can't hear about Max Fewtrell right now. The guy haunting the garage all weekend was enough. Oscar doesn't need a reminder he's not Lando's first anything, needs to keep the thoughts about breaking up with his girlfriend so they can properly be a thing to himself.

"Well." Lando is literally sitting on his hands. "Then you have to tell me about it yourself."

Thing is, this is too much. It's not the kind of thing he should share with Lando. Lando who he just got team-ordered for, Lando who he needs to match the tyre management of, Lando who will sit there and smile angelically and get his fucking way on anything they ever diverge on about feedback.

Oscar's clenching his jaw so hard he can almost feel the ache where they took his wisdom teeth, though. Another thing he didn't know he'd really miss this much.

"You can't fucking laugh at me." Why's he said that, for fuck's sake? Lando laughs at everything, would probably do it at a funeral in his weird, stressed-out way when he doesn't know how to socially behave.

"Ok." Lando's eyes are very big and he's looked up from his phone. "I can order TimTams on Uber Eats?"

That's actually quite sweet. But not what Oscar needs right now.

"Just - stay here." Lando's fucking weird, he's probably into some of this shit himself. If not something freakier, lying around his Monaco flat in a gimp mask, suffocating himself or god-knows-what shit.

It doesn't take long to find the box. Oscar's consciously never accumulated too much stuff in this flat, like he might have to move out of it any time. Like everything might have to go in a suitcase because the contract review board said it's over, kiddo, go back down under and pretend you understand your dad's business enough to pay him back.

It's not got very much in. Oscar doesn't like to wear too much, when he's like this. Just a t-shirt and shorts or his boxers. He doesn't think he's ready for Lando to see him shirtless, like this, make his eyes crinkle up in glee at how much of Oscar he can touch.

It'd be better if Lando did it, if someone put it on for him but that's too complicated to ask for, so Oscar does it himself, mostly. Puts the soft shorts on, an old Prema shirt that's a little too tight to wear outdoors but feels comfy, soft, reassuring on his skin.

The ears are easy but the collar. He can't do that, himself. Can't give himself the ball, the well-chewed, if pristinely laundered, beanie toy. Whines, unhappily, about it.

"Osc-" obviously, Lando heard him. The sounds of him chaotically standing up, nearly falling over Oscar's rug and stumbling towards his bedroom door, are already clattering through the flat. "Can I come in?"

He just whines again, an animal thing. Oscar needs permission, like this, doesn't give it.

"Ok you better not be dying because I never finished the first aid-" Lando stops in the doorway. "Oh."

Oscar sinks to the floor, his knees bending beneath him, shoving the box at Lando before he folds down on his knees and elbows, looking up at the guy he's supposed to do anything to beat.

"Good..." Lando moves his mouth around for a moment, licks his lips. "Puppy?"

He doesn't have a tail to wag, although he has thought about one of the plugs, sometimes. Objectively, the bit of Oscar's brain that's still somewhat functioning says wiggling his arse must make him look ridiculous, especially when he paws at the box and whines again.

Lando crouches down, touches the ears. "Do you want to go out?"

Oscar cringes back, shaking his head violently. God, imagine the headlines.

"Ok." Lando does his head-cock thing again, then sticks his hands into the box. "Do you want your collar?"

It's pretty shameful, the way Oscar crawls forward so easily, smushes his face against Lando's knee and maybe he should have asked about this properly but Lando goes easily, scritching behind Oscar's ear. "Oh you're such a good boy, look at you."

Lando fumbles the collar for a second, not getting the buckle right the first time and it's nearly uncomfortable enough Oscar stands up, right back out of it but then it goes and it's snug and tight and good, Lando's hand in his hair.

"Are these your toys?" Lando shifts to kneeling, lets Oscar get his head right in his lap, nuzzling against Lando's stomach through the pouch of his hoodie. He doesn't need to answer that one, it's pretty obvious.

"Well, I don't think Oscar would want you breaking his stuff, so I'm going to leave the ball here." The third person is a jolt, like a nod to camera but it feels right. Oscar is elsewhere, can worry about that later.

"Come on then, good dog." Lando stands up, with the beanie toy in hand. It's a koala, a stupid joke. "Come and play, then."

It's not a comfortable flat to get through on your hands and knees, hard wooden floor jarring him in a way that'll probably bruise a bit, tomorrow. Lando's walking easily, waggling the beanie like he thinks he needs to keep Oscar interested.

Not Oscar. Puppy. It feels good.

Lando pushes the coffee table away, scraping on the floor in a way Oscar's landlord will probably have an opinion about when he comes to pay the deposit back. But puppies don't worry about that kind of thing, so Oscar just crawls over to where Lando's sitting, legs spread and outstretched, on the rug.

"Come on," Lando holds out the beanie, waving it by Oscar's mouth. "You want this, yeah?"

Oscar growls, nips at it. It's not the toy he wants, really, just the -

Ah, perfect. Lando pulls Oscar forward by the toy, right on top of him as he leans back. Oscar can paw him like his, Lando laughing delightedly and twisting away.

It's - he's seen the video, McLaren posted it for some national day or something last year - the same way Lando plays with his family's dog. Silly, rolling around the floor, letting Oscar half-hump him while Lando's shrieking and trying to get out of his grip, only to dive back in, wrestling with Oscar.

The rug scoots across the floor under them and they nearly crash into the telly, Oscar ending up on his back, against the sofa, Lando tickling his tummy but the toy in Oscar's mouth, triumphant.

"Are you submitting? Are you letting me lead the pack?" It's a bit on the nose but yeah, maybe. Oscar kicks out a leg, half-heartedly, to show he isn't always going to be ok with that.

"What a good boy." That, he is always ok with. More than human-Oscar would like to admit.

Lando lies down next to him, face a bit flushed and eyes bright from playing. "Always wanted a dog. You can even come to all the races."