last line game: share the last few lines of your latest project
tagged by @ro4d-rge thank you!
tagging: @softosc @jeteverrai @papayaskye @racingdisorder481 no pressure if you don’t want to or already have! 💫
Here’s a short scene from my 5+1 pianortrell fic that I’ve slowly been chipping away at for weeks
No clue when it will be done but I’ve really been enjoying the process. Huge shoutout to @ladymarshmall0w for helping me brain storm a huge chunk of this fic, you’re the best, mwah!
It’s later, once his bag is packed and he’s waiting for Lando that he starts to really worry. They’ve had bad races sure, worse than this he thinks, which is why it’s starting to nag at him so much. Lando hasn’t acted like this after a bad race in ages. He’s better than that, he’s grown, he doesn’t let everything sink so deep any more. So him not coming into Oscar’s room yet, something he’s done since their first year together. Yeah, Oscar thinks that warrants some concern.
He pushes off the desk he was leaning against, moving across the room to the divider that separates his and Lando’s driver’s rooms. He knocks softly, letting his knuckles rest against the wooden door as he listens for any movement inside.
“It’s open.” He hears after a second. It’s distant and slightly distorted through the partition.
“Lando?” He asks, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He glances towards the usual hiding spot in the corner frowning when he doesn’t see anything.
“I’m here you muppet.” Lando snorts slightly, a humourless thing that lacks his usual teasing edge.
Oscar shifts his gaze, following the sound of the voice. Lando’s sitting on the floor in front of the main door to his room, his knees drawn in to his chest, his arms circling them trying to make himself as small as possible. He’s changed out of team kit into a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie.
He steps further into the room, leaning against the wall next to him before sliding down, mirroring Lando’s position. He doesn’t say anything at first, just sits there with him. Sits in the mess of it all.
After a minute he feels Lando tilt his head slightly, resting it on the sharpest point of Oscar’s shoulder with the same hesitation as a street cat accepting head rubs. Oscar stays completely still not wanting to startle him. They stay like that till their knees start to ache and Oscar’s half convinced Lando’s about to fall asleep.
“Just come have dinner with us. You’re not intruding.” Oscar mumbles against Lando’s curls, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head on instinct.
“Fine.” Lando grumbles after a minute of consideration. “But I’m leaving if you two start acting all lovey-dovey. Fucking sickening that is.” He mumbles the last part, already moving to get off the floor.
Oscar laughs, tilting his head back till it hits the wall with a soft thud. He hears shuffling as Lando packs his final stuff, shoving things into his bag half heartedly. Team shirts, camera, random cables.
When he’s finally done he turns to face Oscar, offering a hand to pull him up. Oscar stares up at him, noting the slight eye bags framing his red eyes. He glances further down, pausing briefly when he notices Lando’s wearing one of his hoodies. The one he spent 20 minutes arguing with Max about this morning. He huffs, shaking his head and grabbing the outstretched hand, allowing himself to be pulled up.
