#you ever think about that art brid did where it was oscar sorta nuzzling his cheek against Lando's wrist?

[wanderingblindly]

beloved liquid!! how about 19. for luck + 814?

ooooh what if it was established relationship and lando's gonna go Tell The Team? What then???? Click here to send me more prompts :)

On Risks in Love

Lando throws the car in park, letting his hands fall into his lap, leaning back against the headrest with closed eyes and a deep breath.

"It'll be fine," Oscar says from the passenger seat, but Lando can't bring himself to look. It feels like his stomach is about to churn itself inside out, and he's focused on breathing through it. "Lando, really –"

Sharper than he means it, "I'm fine, seriously."

Silence washes over them, not a soul wandering the MTC at this hour. They'd scheduled it this way on purpose – early Sunday morning, mid-summer break. The socials teams had done their bit, any admin employees are home for the week. It's just them, sat in Lando's car, and the slowly rising sun along the horizon.

"Sure you don't want me to come?" Oscar asks, voice softer this time. It makes Lando finally open his eyes, braving a glance; his brows are furrowed slightly, the way he gets when he doesn't know what to do.

In the flurry of emotions coursing through Lando's veins, it breaks him.

"Yeah," He says, but it's not convincing, even to him. Rather than attempt to continue, he scrunches his eyes back closed, resuming his deep breaths.

He has to do this alone. He knows that he does. He started this, he's the one that made the first move, he's the one that dragged Oscar into it. He's older, he's the… it's his team to lose, if all this goes –

Careful fingers ghost over his, Oscar's hand gently covering Lando's.

If it all goes –

"It's your team," Oscar whispers, like that solves everything. He says it like that's not the exact reason Lando's hands are clammy. It's his team, so where will he go, he wants to bite back, if this doesn't work?

Where would be go if he had to lose either of them?

His chest shakes on the inhale, but he doesn't try to hide it. There's no commentators dissecting him, no fans analyzing his posture. It's just Oscar, just Oscar waiting for Lando to get through it like he always gets through it.

"I'll be here the whole time," Oscar starts, comfortingly but firmly. His fingers try to slide between Lando's – working open the tight fist he'd formed. "Waiting for you." Lando opens his eyes as Oscar pries his fingers apart, too frozen to do anything but watch it happen. "And when you're done, once it goes well," He continues, lifting Lando's away from his lap, up into the space between them. "You'll come tell me about it, ok?"

Their eyes meet at Oscar's question.

"But what if it doesn't?" Lando's voice cracks, fragile as the morning-quiet.

He lifts Lando's hand closer to his face, like he's inspecting it; his fingers graze over Lando's nails, bitten raw and reddened. "When have you ever taken no for an answer?"

He'd laugh, maybe, in another situation.

"I'm –"

Oscar interrupts him silently, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of Lando's hand – holding Lando's eyes as he does. "For good luck," He murmurs against his skin, warm breath sinking into his bones, vibrations shooting up his arm. It's like that's all that exists, Oscar's lips grazing his hand; his mind stops, if not only for a moment.

He flips Lando's hand over and presses another, just as delicately, to the inside of his wrist.

"I –" Lando starts, words sticking in his chest as Oscar's eyes flutter closed, as he moves to press another kiss to Lando's rapidly heating skin. "I love you."

Oscar chuckles.

"Now go tell them that so we can go home, yeah?"

Lando can't help but smile, a little shell-shocked. "Yeah. Yeah, ok."