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😼 pussy curse with landoscar where lando is the one with the pussy please!!
magical hijinks prompt list
hello, please enjoy this lmao
landoscar // pussy curse // 2.5k words
It isn’t immediately obvious to Lando that something is wrong. It takes him a few moments, blinking blearily awake in yet another nondescript hotel room — blinding white walls the first thing he sees. There’s a sharp stab to his temple at the too-bright light streaming in through the window; a mouth that feels dry and tastes stale; a rolling in his stomach like the inside of a washing machine. All the tell tale signs of a hangover, undoubtedly exacerbated by dehydration.
He’s too busy focusing on the pounding in his head to consider the distinct lack of heaviness between his legs. Shifting against the sheets he pauses when he realises he’s naked — not a shock, he prefers to sleep without clothes restricting the freeness he always craves. But it is a shock that he can’t feel his usual morning wood. The aching persistence at the back of his mind that he always contemplates ignoring for a few moments, like he’s really thinking about it, before inevitably rutting into his hand to completion.
At twenty five, Lando’s barely any better now than he was at sixteen. His sexual appetite is healthy. Wanking once a day is totally normal, no matter what Fewtrell says, thanks very much.
Except there’s nothing there to wank this time.
Panic sets in, even as he tries to calm himself down. This is fine. This isn’t anything new. It’s happened before and it’ll probably happen again, and he knows what he needs to do.
But Max isn’t here, is he?
Max isn’t here, and Lando’s only ever gone to Max — his best friend, the person he trusts more than anyone else in the world — to fix this particular problem for him, when it arises.
A sound leaves his mouth, unbidden. It cracks through the otherwise silence of the room; a pitiful moan that makes him flinch, despite him being the one to have made it.
Even though he knows there’s no point — it needs to be fucked away, everyone knows that — he finds his hand drifting downwards, into the cavernous space between his thighs. There’s a slick wetness already pooling along the crease and he whimpers despite himself, digging his teeth into his lip.
Removing his hand swiftly, as though he’s been burned, he tries not to think about it too hard as he reaches blindly for his phone on the nightstand.
Max isn’t here but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have options.
———
“Alright, mate?” Oscar says easily when Lando opens the door to his hotel room, half hiding behind the wood.
He’d come quickly, Lando notes. It’s barely been five minutes since Lando texted him and, sure, they’re in the same hotel so it’s not like Oscar’s had far to come — but still. It’s rewarding to know Oscar will be there when Lando calls.
“Yeah,” Lando says even though he means ‘no’. He worries his lower lip before shoving the door open wider, tilting his head and walking backwards. “Come on, get in here.”
If Oscar’s ruffled by his abruptness he doesn’t show it; acquiescing to the demand quickly as he steps into the room after Lando. He closes the door behind him, expression piqued with clear interest when he turns back to Lando.
Lando doesn’t say anything.
“Mate,” Oscar laughs. “What am I doing here?”
Lando winces. He’d slipped on a pair of shorts before Oscard arrived — hadn’t wanted to bombard him immediately with the truth of the situation, at least not until he knows that Oscar will do what Lando’s asking of him.
“I need a hand,” he says delicately, tugging at the hem of his shorts. He sees Oscar’s eyes track the movement, shooting down and back up quick as a flash. Huh.
“Right,” Oscar says slowly, two tiny creases appearing between his brows. “With—?”
Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Lando runs through the options in his head. It’s best if he just comes out and says it, lays it all out on the proverbial table. But it’s difficult, isn’t it? The words feel like they’re stuck, somewhere between his mind and his mouth. He knows what he wants to say, but he can’t seem to make himself say it.
“Lando,” Oscar takes a step towards him, tone suddenly one of concern. “Is everything alright? Do you need me to get someone?”
“No!” Lando snaps, fear at the thought of someone else coming here zipping along his spine uncomfortably.
“Okay,” Oscar agrees.
He didn’t even flinch at Lando raising his voice, and — Lando’s not sure why he’s so worried, suddenly. It’s only Oscar. Oscar who laughs at all his jokes like he’s the funniest person in the world. Oscar who gave him hell on the track last year and hasn’t let up since. Oscar who always catches his eye when Zak says something stupid in debrief or when Andrea’s mid-heartfelt speech that always makes Lando want to giggle uncontrollably.
It’s only Oscar and he’s exactly who Lando needs right now.
“I have a pussy,” he admits, staring patently at the floor. He can’t look at Oscar’s face when he says it; can’t bare to see his reaction. “Like — not usually,” he suddenly feels the need to clarify, horror creeping into his voice at the thought that Oscar might think that Lando’s always just had a pussy. “Must’ve been cursed or something, you know. It happens.” He winces at the sound of his own voice; the way it comes across like he’s trying to convince Oscar that this is totally normal, just something that happens all the time, no need for panic.
And it is — like, in the grand scheme of formula one related curses, this one is pretty well documented by now. Charles has been cursed at least ten times. He says it’s because he’s pretty, but Lando’s never really believed that.
He’s not exactly pretty. He’s got no clue why someone would want to curse him with a pussy.
Oscar still hasn’t said anything so Lando risks a glance up, and — oh, christ. Oscar’s standing there, stock still, staring at Lando like he’s never seen him before.
Fucking Christ.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve gone into frickin’ — shock, or something,” Lando hates the whiny tone of his voice, but he’s desperate and worried he’s rendered Oscar useless.
“Um,” Oscar’s voice comes out all high. Even he seems surprised by it, eyes widening as he hurries to clear his throat before continuing. “No? No, I don’t, like — I don’t think so?”
“Great,” Lando doesn’t mean to sound so sarcastic, honestly. But he can’t help it. “Just — great.”
He’s contemplating kicking Oscar out, stewing in his own absolute mortification for an hour or two before he calls someone else. He doesn’t know who else — he doesn’t really care right now, either.
God, he wants his dick back already.
Oscar interrupts his train of thought. “So do you want me to —?” He gestures awkwardly at the front of Lando’s shorts, baggy and obvious in their lack of structure.
“Please,” Lando whimpers.
It’s like pulling a trigger; Oscar moves forward as though he’s being drawn to Lando by some mysterious, invisible force, purposeful in his action until he’s standing right in front of Lando. His hands are raised, hovering — like maybe he’s scared to touch.
Instead of telling him he can, Lando moves forward, bridging the gap between them, pressing himself against Oscar’s hands. It should be awkward — his palms flat against the bare skin of Lando’s chest, a touch that has no real intention beneath it. But Lando burns regardless, a sound catching at the back of his throat upon impact. In his shorts, he feels himself leak.
“Get on the bed,” Oscar says and the command of it has Lando’s breath trapped in his lungs, his knees feeling weak.
Oscar seems to realise he’s in no position to obey without help; not when his mind is spinning like it is now, the promise of what’s to come turning everything into a haze so that all he can feel is want. He lets Oscar maneuver him over to the bed, frowning in confusion when Oscar keeps him standing, one arm around his back to stop him from getting onto the bed.
“Can I take these off?” He asks by way of explanation, fingers dancing over the waistband of Lando’s shorts.
Lando’s abs constrict at the touch, pleasure coiling in his stomach. He feels hot and wet — so wet down there. He can’t remember if it felt like this, the last time. If he was this turned on. He doesn’t think so.
“Yeah,” he nods his head emphatically, breath whistling when Oscar tucks his slender fingers beneath the band and tugs, tapping his hand against each of Lando’s legs to get him to lift them as he bends to take them all the way off.
Oscar doesn’t rise straight away, even when the material is gone, kicked to the side. Lando fights the urge to cover himself. He hasn’t looked at it, not this time. It’s never looked any different than the first — and it’s not bad. Nice, he’d say, if it was on a girl. But he can never look at it for too long himself, never spends much time alone with it.
He shivers as Oscar breathes across his groin, the familiar tug behind his navel sharp and deep.
“Let me taste you.”
Lando gasps as his mind blanks, nothing but pure black. There’s a ringing in his ear as he blinks down at Oscar in surprise, mouth dropped open.
“You —,” is all he manages to get out, words dying in his tongue.
Oscar looks — he looks like he really wants it. Like it’s all he wants. His eyes are blown with black, tongue wetting his lip and Lando can’t — he feels himself gush at the image, the mental picture he gets of that tongue somewhere else, where he needs it the most.
He’s nodding before he can even think it through.
Hands grip his waist, all but throwing him down into the mattress. He lands with a bounce, an hysterical giggle bubbling in his chest that dies as soon as Oscar gets his mouth on him — no hesitation, no preamble. He licks up the seam of Lando’s cunt, drawing a ragged gasp from him, his hips aching to push up against it.
“Fuck,” Oscar murmurs, not even pulling back far enough to speak properly. His lips brush against Lando. “You taste so good.”
Lando whines, high and reedy in his throat. He isn’t sure he’s ever been this turned on in his life; not even when he’s got a cock. His pussy clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled, and Oscar dives back in. He’s fucking good at this, Lando realises; alternating between sucking at Lando’s oversensitive clit before he fucks the tip of his tongue into him, keeping his lips open with a practiced, two fingered split.
“Oh, fuck,” Lando gasps, grinding up against Oscar’s mouth, unable to stop the thrust of his pelvis. Oscar doesn’t seem to mind; he puts a hand on Lando’s hip, holding rather than pinning, matching the rhythm that he starts to set.
Sometimes, with Max, Lando has to focus on the orgasm. It feels like something that can easily slip away from him when he’s got a pussy, a more refined pleasure than he gets with his cock. But he’s focused only on the feeling of Oscar’s mouth, the pillow of his tongue, and he’s coming on it before he even realises. It seems to last a lifetime, the waves crashing over him, Oscar staying there until it’s too much and Lando’s hooking a leg over his shoulder, squeezing with his thigh to get the message across.
“Fuck me,” he says, too turned on to be embarrassed at the desperation.
Despite the orgasm his cunt is still spasming, aching for more.
Oscar drags a hand over his mouth when he comes up, his face glistening with slick. Lando flushes red and hot at the knowledge that it’s his — that he’s all over Oscar’s face, his taste dancing on Oscar’s tastebuds.
“Condom?”
It’s a relief, to hear Oscar sound as breathless as Lando feels.
Lando shakes his head. “No. Can’t. Won’t work otherwise.”
He doesn’t know if that’s true of all pussy curses, but it seems to be the case with him at least.
Oscar’s eyes seem to dilate in real time, even as Lando’s tugging him in and down, and it’s so intimate. Too intimate, probably — he’s looking at Oscar’s face, inches from his own, distinctly aware of the fact that Oscar can see his too. Can see every minute change in Lando’s expression as Oscar pushes into him, slowly but surely.
It’s never been as easy as this. Lando’s body opens for Oscar like it’s meant for him, like this is exactly where they were always going to end up. He feels full, finally, clenching down on instinct, heart fluttering at the sharp inhale of breath he gets out of Oscar in return.
From this position he can smell the sweetness of Oscar’s breath — realises with a jolt that the underlying tang is him. It has Lando moaning, noises only increasing in pitch when Oscar starts to move, setting a pace that feels impossibly good.
At the same time, Lando knows it’s going to be over too soon. It’s a strange thought to have, he thinks. Usually, he’s happy to get it over with — a means to an end. But that pressure is building again with each thrust and he tosses his head back against the pillow as he comes again, a second time, gasping for air.
It doesn’t last as long but it’s powerful. Not something he’s ever experienced before. His limbs feel heavy with exhaustion, his mind soupy, and Oscar is above him, whispering things that Lando can only half hear —
He can blame it on the heat of the moment, the kiss. Later, he will. Because it’s one thing to fuck your teammate out of necessity. It’s another to kiss them while they’re doing it.
Tasting himself on Oscar’s tongue has him moaning, deep and low; canine teeth digging into the flesh of Oscar’s lower lip, and he feels it when Oscar comes. It’s not a feeling he’ll ever get used to, no matter how many times this happens; the warm rush inside, Oscar detaching their lips and moaning into the crook of Lando’s sweaty neck as he finishes.
Working his dry throat, Lando struggles to find his voice when Oscar withdraws, flopping onto the mattress beside him.
“You should stay,” he manages eventually. “In case. Like. Sometimes you need to do it twice.”
He’s never had to do it twice.
“Yeah, okay,” Oscar’s voice is rough but his smile is soft. He crawls his hand across the mattress between them, interlocking their pinky fingers silently.
Lando Norris: ‘Being happy with myself isn’t easy’ | Lando Norris: ‘You don’t have to have a killer instinct to be world champion’ | Netflix, Drive To Survive S07E02
!! this is part 2 to in this life, and in the next. please please read pt. 1 first !! it won't make much sense otherwise.
thank you @oopslandiia for this same request because now our babies can have a happy end 🧡
dedicating part 2 to @oldhabitsdieop as well because your ⌛️ was the reason this story started in the first place 🫶
edit: sorry, if this got very sappy at the end....
***
In this life, and in the next - pt. 2
~ 4.9k
The light has changed when Oscar slowly wakes up again. It takes him a moment to realize what has happened. And where he is. A long moment.
The blanket feels off somehow. That's the first thing he notices. It's not the one he remembers from the hotel. This one is heavier. Softer. More comfortable. Unconsciously, he pulls it tighter around himself.
But there is an unease inside of him that he can't explain, that's keeping him from slipping back into the heaviness of sleep. It's not just the light behind his closed eyelids and the too perfect blanket that feel off. A feeling inside of him also demands attention. His chest feels tight and his thoughts are running a mile a minute and still he can't pinpoint what's wrong. He just knows that it is.
Oscar makes himself blink awake.
The light is different, yes. But so is everything else. He is lying in a bed he doesn't recognize and that bed is in a room he doesn't recognize.
Within seconds, Oscar is fully awake. He sits up so fast he gets dizzy with it and the blanket falls off his shoulders. The movement reveals him wearing a shirt he also doesn't recognize.
It hits him without warning then.
Lando. The way they both still wanted the same. To be with each other. And Oscar was not only a coward but a horrible person as well for not giving them both what they so desperately crave. What they need probably.
And now it's not even only Oscar himself that has to experience the wrath of the universe for his actions.
That's the only way he can describe it. Because how else would anyone explain this? The fact that he not only travelled into the future to see a life he could have had, if he wasn't so scared, but also took future Lando's Oscar from him.
And in turn he also took himself from his Lando, who obviously cares so much more than Oscar thinks he deserves.
And the worst part? He is still here. He didn't magically get transported back into his own time.
He has long since stopped trying to explain the how but why is he still here?
Oscar sighs and looks down at the blanket that has pooled around his waist. That's when he notices that the shirt he's wearing is quite a lot too big. He now remembers Lando - future Lando - giving it to him the evening before with the explation that future Oscar likes wearing bigger clothes whenever he has bad days. He like the idea of feeling small. And honestly, so does Oscar - past Oscar. And it hurts how well Lando got to know him. All these little details of him.
It hurts because Oscar is still here and not in a time where he could make all of this reality. He has to find a way back, there is just no other way.
Lando's been so helpful these past hours, maybe he has another good idea. But future Lando isn't in bed next to him. So Oscar pushes the blanket aside, climbs out of bed and tiptoes into the kitchen.
And that is where he finds Lando, sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of, presumably, tea in front of him. And what seems to be the daily newspaper.
Oscar's heart aches at the sight. All of this is so domestic. So calm and easy. A life he has only let himself dream about on very few occasions. He feels himself tearing up again and realizes that he's being way too good at self-pitying.
He tries blinking the tears away but that motion makes one run down his cheek instead. And this is the exact moment Lando decides to look up and sees him.
"Good morning," he mumbles. His voice is quiet. Almost as if he doesn't want to scare Oscar away again. He doesn't comment on the tear and Oscar is thankful for it. "How did you sleep?"
"Morning," Oscar manages but it's barely a word at all. How did he sleep? Better than he thought he would. He can't even remember waking up during the night but no answer wants to make it past his lips so he just presses them together and looks apologetically at Lando.
The older just nods as if he understands. And the thing is, he probably does. Oscar has taken the place of future Oscar and there is no obvious way to swap them back. Lando must be so worried. So, of course he understands.
Get a grip, Oscar thinks to himself when he joins Lando at the kitchen island, taking the same spot as the evening before. You're not the only one that's hurting.
"Would you like some breakfast?" Lando asks. Oscar really really does. And it must be obvious in his eyes or something because Lando laughs quietly. "That's a 'yes' then."
He doesn't even ask what Oscar wants. He just gets up, pulls ingredients out of different cabinets and lets Oscar watch. As if he knows what the younger needs.
Again. He probably does.
While Lando is making some version of eggs and toast and also collects some fruit from the fridge, Oscar can't help but think that he never imagined Lando to be the one to cook for them both. The few times he has let himself daydream of days like these he always put himself in the role of making food. Not Lando. But then again, he also never imagined Lando to be the person to read the daily newspaper.
This thought in particular draws Oscar's eyes to the newspaper that's sitting right in front of him now. His eyes flicker over words and headlines and names he hasn't heard of. And then a number catches his attention. A date to be precise. Sitting in the top left corner of the paper. 21.04.2051.
For a moment Oscar feels like someone has punched the air out of him. He's travelled more than twenty years into the future. He is stuck in the year 2051, sitting in a kitchen with a 51 year old Lando cooking him breakfast.
But somehow, he doesn't freak out. He is probably way past this already. And for some reason, the only question that remains in his head is, How do I get back?
Contrary to his hopes from earlier, Lando also doesn't have an answer to that question. He just puts both of their food onto plates and into bowls and arranges these in between the two of them with movements that tell Oscar that this isn't the first time he's done this. Far from it.
And then they just sit there, sipping tea and eating breakfast like they've done this their whole lives. Oscar could ask questions, he could look at pictures and trophies and see what their lives have looked like before this very day. What his life ist going to look like. But he doesn't. He doesn't want to. Knowing that they end up like this, so domestic and calm, is already too much.
But there is one question at the back of Oscar's mind that he just has to ask. Because he is too curious not to and because he may be able to at least try and help this time.
So he puts down his fork and just says what's on his mind.
"Lando?" The older looks up, obviously happy that Oscar has chosen to talk by himself. He nods encouragingly at the younger. "I've got a question."
"Just one?" Lando retorts and it's accompanied by this blinding, mischievous smile and Oscar feels his cheeks heating up against his will. He shakes his head in response and to try and focus on his question.
"More than one. But I don't want an answer to any of them. Just this one," Oscar explains and surprises himself with how strong his voice sounds. "What happened between you and… Oscar?"
It's weird saying his own name like that and also talking about himself.
Lando mirrors him and puts down his own fork. "You have to be a bit more precise here, babe. There are a lot of things that happened over the years."
And there's him with the Babe again. Oscar can see why the older version of him must like it so much. It makes the butterflies in his stomach go crazy.
"Last night," Oscar clarifies. "When you were knocking at the bathroom door. You said we - or rather, the two of you - could talk about something. And that older me apparently needed space. What was it? Did you have a fight?"
Lando clearly didn't expect that to be the one question Oscar wanted to ask. The younger can see it in the way his face falls and it's so so similar to the way his own - past - Lando had reacted the evening before. When Oscar broke his heart.
Great. Now he's made not only past Lando sad but future Lando as well.
"I'm—," Lando starts, interrupts himself and a humourless chuckle leaves his mouth. "Well."
Oscar swallows. Suddenly he wishes he hadn't asked. But Lando continues.
"I don't know how much I can tell you. Since you said you don't want answers to any other of your questions." He places his elbows on either side of his half finished breakfast bowl and folds his hands to rest his chin on. Oscar can't help but fall even more in love with Lando in that very moment. More than he already has. The older is so unbelievably thoughtful. "But picture this. There is a relatively big event coming up - A-listers, livestreamed, the lot - and both of us are invited. It's to honor achievements and, let's call it bravery, in many different forms. And that means back into the spotlight for both of us. It's going to be good - for both of us. And we were already planning matching outfits and which tailor to go to and how our speeches should look like, you know?"
Lando sighs as if the memory is bittersweet. As if he, too, wants to go back in time to maybe change something. And all of a sudden Oscar desperately wants to hug him. But instead of following that thought in particular, Oscar keeps listening.
"It's all set but you— sorry, the older version of you, suddenly said he didn't want to go. That he shouldn't have agreed in the first place. But we agreed to the invite months ago. I didn't understand what had happened. And I have to admit, I was angry as well. I called it a stupid stage fever and yo— Oscar called me a dickhead. Rightfully so. I didn't understand then but I made him so uncomfortable that he stopped speaking to me and I couldn't get to him anymore. I should have apologized right away but I was too much of a… dickhead. I should have asked what happened. WHat made him souncomfortable that he wanted to cancel all of this. But I didn't do that. Not right away and not later either and when I finally realized it was already too late."
All of a sudden, Oscar thinks back to the evening before. To past Lando and himself on Lando's bed, to their linked pinkies, to him drawing back and Lando asking why. Lando saying, he just wants to understand. The younger version of Lando has always done this. Wanting to get behind things, no matter if it was racing, strategy or personal relationships. He was always looking for a way to understand others. And this older version hasn't. Maybe for the first time. Maybe that's what caught future Oscar off guard and made him retreat.
"I— I'm so sorry," Lando continues. He has stopped looking at Oscar and is now foocused on the rest of his breakfast instead.
"You don't have to apologize to me," Oscar tries. Even though they're somehow the same person, he is not the older version of himself. Not yet anyways.
"But I hurt you," Lando says and it's clear that this hurts himself as well.
"Future me," Oscar adds and it feels weird to be nitpicky about this. But it's also weird if he'd accept an apology that is meant for someone else. Or rather, for a person with so much more and different memories than him. "But I think…"
Oscar trails off. Lando had just looked up again, his eyes full of so much hope, thinking that Oscar might have a solution for him and Oscar just had to stop for a moment. He doesn't have a solution. Not really. And he doesn't want to disappoint Lando.
He clears his throat and tries again. "I can only speak for myself here. For past me. And I'm not sure how much of this you already know." Lando nods understandingly but his eyes still shimmer. He is still full of hope. "More often than not I just need some time to myself. When things are overwhelming. That's what older me was right about. But there is one thing that's always been difficult for me. I'm easily scared. Scared for myself but especially for others. And this is making it hard to think clearly sometimes."
Oscar doesn't know where this had just come from. He has never admitted that to anyone, and barely even to himself. And he also isn't sure if future Oscar has ever told Lando about this. Probably not in such honesty.
Oscar thinks back to the evening before. But also to the almost-kiss in 2024. "I'm scared of anything happening to you because of me. And…and this is why I hurt you as well. Back at that party in '24. When… when you first wanted to kiss me." Oscar trails off. His voice fades out into nothing at the memory of it. At the idea of what could have been. But Lando shifting in his seat snaps him back into the present.
"But I didn't mean to. I just wanted to protect you. I didn't kiss you back then because I was scared of what people would say. Of what they would do. I was scared that if we ended up together… that this would be the beginning of the end. I'm sorry, Lando."
Oscar closes his mouth at that and kind of doesn't want to open it again. He's said so way too much already. Oscar has never thought about the why to his actions in that much detail. Nor has he ever had the courage to even think this far. Let alone put it into words. But here he is.
"Oh," Lando breathes. He looks like a lot of things suddenly make sense to him. "Babe." Lando reaches across the slim countertop in beween them and puts his hand on Oscar's cheek. All calm and slow. Giving Oscar the chance to withdraw yet again.
But his hand is warm and strong and Oscar can feel calluses on the other's skin. Those are another story about life. But his touch is so soft at the same time and the moment yet another tear slips down Oscar's face is the moment he leans into the touch. He doesn't withdraw this time.
Lando caresses his tears away before he speaks up again, hand still holding onto Oscar. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, my love. I understand. I do. I worry about you as well. About us." Oscar closes his eyes. "But if it helps, there is nothing to forgive. And I hope you can think the same. If not now, maybe soon."
Oscar leans deeper into the touch. It's so grounding and warm and just— everything. He has half a mind to turn his head just a fraction and leave a kiss on Lando's palm.
He doesn't. Because he doesn't think he's allowed to. This Lando belongs with his older version, even though they are somehow the same person. And Oscar belongs with the past version of Lando. He knows that now.
***
"It's worth a try, isn't it?" Lando says. Future Lando. Oscar has to admit, he didn't see any difference between the 2051 and the 2026 Lando just now. Because as calm and sweet and caring the older Lando is, he had also stayed just as impulsive and boyish and silly as his younger version.
Oscar stands in front of the open bathroom door, the bright light is hurting his eyes again and he wonders how on earth his future self hasn't said anything about it yet. But that's not what this is about now.
Lando's plan seemed simple enough. Oscar just had to repeat everything from the night before. Enter the bathroom, shed his clothes, take a shower. A hot shower. If the universe, or whatever it was, brought him here, it might as well bring him back into his time and swap him with his future self while it's at it. The worst that could happen is that it just doesn't work.
If Oscar's being honest, it sounds like a bit of a reach but it also sounds like the only plausible way. If there even is something like a plausible way in all of this mess.
But what if it doesn't work? What then?
"You're overthinking it," Lando mumbles from beside him. He's leaning against the wall next the the bathroom door, arms crossed and his eyes trained on Oscar. "It's just a shower."
A magical fucking shower, Oscar wants to answer. He doesn't. It's stupid. He's just going to take a shower. Whatever happens then is going to happen anyway, no matter what he thinks about it.
"Okay," he finally agrees.
Lando smiles at his answer. "Good." But before Oscar can step into the bathroom, Lando puts a hand on his shoulder. He makes Oscar look at him, his features suddenly a bit tense. "Osc, one moment."
Oscar turns fully towards him and Lando continues. "I can't stop thinking about what you said. Earlier. And, I mean, I kinda knew this about you already but… It's okay to be scared, especially of these things. But I promise, it's gonna be worth it. Just try to be a little bit brave. And I'll be there as well. My younger self, that is. I'll always be there for you. I promise. And…"
Lando's voice fades out. It's like those next words are harder than he inititally thought. Oscar reaches for his hand and intertwines their pinkies. He's practising being brave. And it seems to help Lando as well. He finishes his sentences.
"…and I promise to make it up to you. To your future self. I'll apologize and explain myself and hope he'll forgive me."
Oscar curls his pinky a bit tighter. "He will. I'm sure of it."
Lando doesn't say anything as an answer. He just uses their intertwined fingers to pull Oscar into a hug. They're still almost the same height and somehow they fit together like puzzle pieces. Almost as if future Oscar as carved out a place in Lando's arms in the shape of himself.
Oscar squeezes him tight and whispers an almost inaudible thank you into the crook of Lando's neck. And once they separate, Oscar misses his warmth.
He has to get back to his own time. His own Lando.
He turns around then, ready as ever and steps into the bathroom as if it's a train to the other end of the world. In some sense, it might as well be.
The last thing he sees of Lando are his kind eyes and the heart shape of his lips before the older closes the door for him.
It takes a moment for Oscar to start moving again. The weight of everything that has happened in the past day is still weighing heavy on him. But when he finally does move, everything feels like clockwork.
Pulling his shirt over his head and leaving it with the rest of his clothes somewhere on the bathroom floor. Stepping into the shower. Turning the water to hot. He even hisses involuntarily again when it first makes contact with his skin. And it's weirdly soothing, the way the scorching droplets cascade down his body, leaving burning traces in their wake.
Oscar closes his eyes and the only thing on his mind is a continuous repeat of I'll get to live our happy end. I'll get to live our happy end. I'll get to live our happy end.
***
The heat is weirdly soothing after a while. Almost comforting. Like a hug. He can almost hear a melody in the way the water hits the tiles of the shower and the glass doors and his skin. It's a steady beat. Almost like knocking. Three beats, then a pause.
Knock-knock-knock.
Wait.
Mixing in with the sounds of the shower there is something else. Something from outside.
Oscar's head shoots up.
Someone is knocking on his door.
His hand flies up to turn off the water. It's quiet now. Safe for some remainding droplets and the gurgle of the drain. And there it is again. Faint. But there is clearly someone knocking on his door. Not his bathroom door though.
His hotel room door.
Lando.
His Lando.
Oscar can't even question how it worked or if he really ended up back in his time. He all but sprints out of the shower, almost slips on the wet floor and reaches for a towel on his way to the door.
Just for a moment he looks down. Checks the writing on the piece of fabric in his hands.
No Lando & Oscar this time. Not their names in those fancy woven letter. Just a plain H for Hilton.
Oscar's heart skips a beat and his stomach is full of butterflies. He's back. It actually worked. He wants to kiss future Lando for this. He wants to…
Another knock. And a voice, calling his name.
"Osc?"
It's faint, telling him that there are still two closed doors in between them. So Oscar rubs the towel through his hair for a split second, wraps it around his hips next and sprints out of the bathroom.
"I'm coming! I'm here!"
I'm here, his mind screams with joy. I am here.
He leaves wet foorprints on the carpet floor on his way to the door but he doesn't even notice. His fingers shake when they close around the doorhandle. Oscar pulls it open and—
Finally.
There he is.
Lando, in his 2026 version, complete with curly hair and seaglass coloured eyes. But they are red-rimmed, as if he had been crying.
"Lando," Oscar breathes and he's relieved. So so relieved. And so worried at the same time. "I'm so sorry, Lando. You can't even imagine how much. I didn't mean to do any of this. I didn't mean to…"
He stops himself from rambling. From saying breaking your heart out loud. Instead he looks to the floor for a moment and opens the door wider.
He can't do this standing half-naked in a hotel's corridor.
"Come in?" He asks and looks at Lando again. "Please?"
Lando's eyes meet his. And then he smiles through the last of his unshed tears, following Oscar's invitation. The younger watches him walk into his room and hover somewhere between the entrance and the bed. Unsure of where to go, how to behave. And Oscar can't have this.
He closes the door, walks over to Lando and reaches out to take his hand. All soft and quiet. No words, just his actions. Lando lets himself be led further into the room, his fingers closing tight around Oscar's as if he's afraid the younger is going to let him go again.
"Sit down, please?" Oscar mumbles once they're both standing next to his bed. "I'll be right back, I promise. I'll just find some clothes, alright?"
Lando looks down on him as if he only now realizes the fact that Oscar is not wearing… much. He nods, "Okay." He doesn't let go though and for a moment Oscar allows himself to just feel how their hands fit together. Like they're meant to be.
Then he slips out of Lando's grasp and it hurts more than he thought it would. But he will be right back. He grabs the first clothes his suitcase has to offer and disappears into the bathroom, making sure not to close the door entirely. He doesn't want to be transported into another time again.
And this time he gets to stay. When he steps out again, now dressed in a hoodie and shorts, Lando is still there. Still where Oscar has left him.
Oscar joins him on the bed and feels Lando's eyes never leaving him until he's settled down. Then the older reaches out his hands and Oscar puts his own into Lando's waiting palms. It's grounding as much as it's thrilling. The way Lando's skin is so warm and soft. The way he traces his thumb over the back of Oscar's hand for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Lando," Oscar finally starts and all of a sudden it's not hard to look him in the eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to break your heart. I was just…"
"…scared," Lando finishes the sentence for him. "I know that now."
"How do you…" Oscar trails off. But he knows. He knows what must have happened. Without Lando having to explain. The other just smiles when he sees that it clicked for Oscar.
Not only did past Oscar visit future Lando, but future Oscar must have been taken back here to see past Lando. And just like Oscar and Lando in 2051, Lando and Oscar in 2026 must have talked. About everything them. And future Oscar told Lando about all of his emotions and feelings and the horrible annoying thing of being scared.
It's like they've already talked about everything. Like they know each other inside out. And he still wants to talk, wants to say things and explain things himself but right now, it feels like there is no need. Right now it feels just right. And it must be, because the next thing Lando whispers is, "Can I kiss you?"
Oscar's eyes flicker down to Lando's lips and back up. A mirror of what he's done one and a half years ago. Only this time, he isn't scared. "Please."
Lando leans in, almost just as slow as last time, but more sure. Their lips meet and Oscar melts. He sighs almost inaudibly and presses closer, pressing their lips closer together as if one wrong move might rip them apart again. And he kisses Lando like he wants to make up for all the time they have already lost.
He feels one of Lando's hands letting go of his own and settling on his cheek. It feels just as calm and grounding as when future Lando had done the same. It feels right. Lando pulls him even closer, turns his head just so and deepens their kiss.
And it's so much but not enough but too much at the same time. Oscar feels himself tear up again with all the emotions still stuck inside of him. He wants to swallow them down but it doesn't work. He almost didn't get this. Any of this. Lando's touch and their kiss and his love.
Oscar is well aware of the first tear slipping down his cheek. And the next. And the sob that threatens to break free. He tries to fight it, but he can't.
Lando is just way too important and Oscar too weak to fight anymore. The next time he breathes in, it's shaky and before he knows it, he's sobbing and breaking their kiss with it.
Lando draws back. But not startled or even mad. Just a little worried but oh so understanding.
"What's wrong?" he asks. Whispers. Oscar just presses his lips together and shakes his head. And Lando simply nods and goes to take both of his hands again, caressing slowly over his knuckles. He gives him time. Time to calm down again. No rush at all.
"I just—" Oscar whispers his words through the last of his sobs. "You're so important."
Lando looks like the luckiest person on earth right now. If his heart-shaped smile is anything to go by. Oscar can't help but mirror him. Smiling through the few remaining tears on his cheeks. He just wants to kiss him again.
"You are, too, babe," Lando answers. Babe. So this is where it starts. The older leans forward again an only presses a chaste kiss on Oscar's lips. Barely a touch at all. "You are, too."
Lando pulls his hands closer now and lifts them up to his face. This time he only looks at Oscar for a split second before pressing his lips against his knuckles, kissing each finger and lingering on his ring finger. It's like a silent promise.
Oscar feels his heartbeat speeding up. He wants that, he wants that so much. To be Lando's. And Lando being his. The two of them against the world.
So he changes his grip on Lando hand the moment the older leans back. He brings his fingers close and kisses Lando's ring finger as an answer.
Lando breaks out into a wide grin, trying but not able to settle for something smaller than a blinding smile and sparkly eyes.
Oscar wants to see this side of Lando for the rest of their lives.
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