Oscar decided he hated charity galas. Specifically this charity gala.
Specifically because David Beckham was here and apparently so was Lando’s dignity loss.
“Oh my god,” Lando whispered for what was probably the twentieth time that evening. “He’s even more handsome up close.”
Oscar gripped his champagne glass harder. Because up close? Why had Lando been close enough multiple times to confirm that?
They’d only been here an hour and somehow his boyfriend had already:
* accidentally followed Beckham toward the bar,
* stared at him during an entire speech,
* whispered “that man aged like luxury leather” directly into Oscar’s ear,
* and betrayed Oscar emotionally by saying Beckham smelled expensive and comforting.
Oscar was suffering. “You know,” Oscar said flatly while adjusting his suit cuff, “I’m starting to think you’re here on a date with David Beckham.”
Lando gasped dramatically. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Okay.”
“You’re still my favorite rich man in a suit.”
“That sounded less romantic than you intended.”
Lando ignored him because David Beckham had laughed somewhere across the ballroom and apparently that required immediate visual attention.
Oscar narrowed his eyes, then Beckham walked past them again and smiled politely at Lando.
Big mistake.
Because Lando physically froze before smiling back so brightly Oscar almost got blinded by it. “Oh he’s lovely,” Lando whispered once Beckham walked away.
Oscar stared at the ceiling briefly asking God for patience. “You know he’s married, right?”
Lando looked offended. “Oscar.”
“I’m just checking.”
“You’re being weirdly territorial tonight.”
“I’m not territorial.”
“You literally moved closer when he shook my hand earlier.”
Oscar blinked once. “…That was strategic positioning.”
Lando burst into laughter immediately. “Oh my god,” he wheezed. “You’re jealous of David Beckham.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I just think it’s interesting,” Oscar continued calmly, “that my boyfriend has spent the entire evening flirting with a retired footballer.”
Lando looked genuinely scandalized. “I have not flirted with him.”
“You told him his documentary changed your life.”
“It was a really good documentary!”
“And then you touched his arm.”
“That was conversational emphasis.”
Oscar stared at him blankly. Lando stared back for exactly three seconds before breaking into helpless giggles again.
“You’re actually upset,” he realized delightedly.
“I’m considering resignation.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“You abandoned me at the table for fifteen minutes because Beckham started talking about watches.”
“He has incredible opinions about watches.”
Oscar looked at him with betrayal. “I also have opinions about watches.”
“Yes but you don’t look like David Beckham while saying them.”
Silence.
Lando’s face immediately dropped. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “Baby, I didn’t mean—”
Oscar turned and walked away immediately not because he was genuinely upset. Mostly because Lando’s horrified expression was deeply funny.
Still, he maintained the bit all the way toward the bathroom hallway. Behind him, he heard rushed footsteps. “Oscar!”
Oscar kept walking.
“Oscar please,” Lando laughed breathlessly. “Don’t divorce me over David Beckham.”
Oscar finally stopped outside the bathrooms and turned slowly. Lando nearly crashed into him.
“You think he’s more handsome than me,” Oscar said flatly.
Lando stared at him for one long second. Then suddenly grabbed Oscar by the tie and pulled him into the nearest empty bathroom with shocking determination.
“Ow—”
The door slammed shut and before Oscar could even process what was happening, Lando grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him hard enough to completely erase coherent thought.
Oscar’s brain instantly short-circuited. Because what the hell.
Lando kissed like chaos. Warm lips, soft laughter against Oscar’s mouth, fingers tangled into his tie while Oscar stumbled backward into the sink counter. Completely unfair behavior.
When they finally pulled apart, Oscar looked genuinely dazed. Lando grinned triumphantly. “Still think I want David Beckham?”
Oscar blinked slowly. “…Potentially.”
Lando laughed loudly before kissing him again, quicker this time, softer. But then Oscar grabbed his waist and turned them around smoothly, pinning Lando lightly against the sink.
“Baby,” Lando whispered against Oscar’s lips, still smiling, “David Beckham is handsome.”
Oscar narrowed his eyes immediately.
“But,” Lando continued innocently, “he’s not the one pinning me against a bathroom sink right now looking all jealous and possessive in a Tom Ford suit.”
Oscar’s face went hot instantly. Lando noticed immediately and looked deeply pleased with himself.
“Oh my god,” he whispered dramatically. “You blushed.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re so in love with me.”
Oscar groaned and buried his face into Lando’s shoulder while his stupid boyfriend giggled against his neck like he hadn’t just emotionally ruined him in a public bathroom.
Somewhere outside the door, gala music continued playing peacefully. Inside the bathroom, Oscar decided David Beckham could actually go to hell.
