Work Text:
Lando had a lovely place, he really did. It had a good location, not too far from work and yet away from the city crowd. He could easily head out and get to the nearest grocery store or a random restaurant since he's an utter disaster in the kitchen. His heating was great in the winter, and his air-con was perfect in the summer. His apartment was very much lived in, his decorations and photos holding memories scattered around the flat. He loved the view, his neighbours were pleasant, the walls thick enough for him to enjoy his late-night gaming. It was perfect. Mostly.
The only thing his apartment was missing was a human-sized Oscar.
And that left a gaping hole that Lando felt like a fresh open wound, his heart aching whenever they had to part ways at the door, whenever he had to curl into bed alone, whenever he had to wake up the next morning looking forward to work just so he could see the other man and his stupidly perfect swoopy hair.
The scattered times they stayed over at each others’ place wasn't nearly enough. And for that, he'd willingly part ways with this apartment his grown quite fond of.
But as much as Lando wanted to move in with Oscar, he didn't know how to broach the subject. He knows he can be a handful, he can get overly clingy, and he's probably an annoyance to share a roof with. So he couldn't come out and just go, “Hey, Osc, wanna move in together?”. He wants Oscar to really want it, and not just agree out of whatever weird sense of obligation he had for this pitiful clingy boyfriend of his. All Lando could do now was plant the idea, and Oscar had to do the rest.
So now, Lando had a plan. Commence Mission: ‘Ask Your Boyfriend To Move In With You (And Possibly Marry Him Some Day)’. Less emphasis on the marrying, and more on the moving in together bit. Because. Lando's getting a bit desperate.
1.
Lando waves a cup of coffee, steam trailing like he's waving a firecracker, in front of Oscar's face, who blearily peels his eyes open. He takes a second to orientate himself before he finally registers that there's coffee being shoved into his face. Lando watches as his lips slowly curve up, a fond smile pushing up his cheeks. His eyes are still barely open, but he easily twists in his seat to properly face Lando.
“Good morning, baby,” Lando coos, poking at his cheek. “Up late again?”
“Morning. Yeah,” Oscar mumbles forlornly. “I really need to get this done by this week.”
Lando pats at his head where his uncooperative hair is sticking out at weird angles. He looks very much like a wrangled cat, Lando's heart squeezes at the sight.
“You're staying late again tonight?”
“Probably, I don't think I'll finish it any time tonight.”
“Want to stay at my place for the week? My place is nearer,” Lando suggests.
He watches as the other man's nose scrunches in thought, before relaxing again. He tilts his head up to look up at Lando, hair falling around his face nicely.
“Really?”
“Of course,” Lando nods his head quickly, probably a bit too enthusiastically. He's a bit too stupid over the other man to reel it in though. “I'd really like that, actually.”
One corner of Oscar's lips tilt up, a telltale sign he's going to be difficult about it just for the sake of it. “But I'll need the rest, won't I? I should stay at my own place.”
“My place is better than yours, mate,” Lando huffs.
He freezes, realising his mistake. He's supposed to be convincing the other man that both their places were equally shitty, not turn this into a competition.
“I mean, I'm sure there are better places out there that are just as near to our workplace, and probably way more convenient,” Lando flounders, throwing his arms about as he tries to put emphasis on certain words.
He snaps his mouth shut when he realises Oscar is just watching him with amusement, eyes sparkling with it.
“Just,” Lando mutters weakly, “stay over? Please?”
“Okay,” Oscar hums, and Lando feels the low vibrations reverberating through his belly from where Oscar's cheek is pressing against him now, “I'll come over tonight.”
Come over tonight, Lando thinks but doesn't voice aloud, and the day after, and the week after too, and maybe move in with me for forever.
-
Lando has to stifle a yawn, not wanting Oscar to feel bad, later as he’s waiting for Oscar to finish up his work so they can head home together. He’s already this tired after a day of being able to walk around and stretch anytime he wanted, while Oscar hadn’t even left his seat for lunch and he’s still hunching over his desk. He probably wouldn’t have eaten anything if Lando hadn’t parked himself there to ensure Oscar finished up the sandwiches Lando had brought up from the office cafeteria for him.
Lando scrolls mindlessly on his phone. He doesn’t realise he’s nodding off until he jolts awake at the sound of Oscar standing up.
“All done?” he asks, sheepish.
“Yeah, sorry for making you wait.” The guilt is clearly written on Oscar's face.
Lando stands up, collecting his things. “It's fine, Osc. I wouldn't have stayed if I had minded.”
Lando steps closer, pecking the other man on the lips, then smiles up at him, hoping to convey how much he really did not mind staying late with him. If he could, he'd happily stay around him 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for the rest of his life, really. He intertwines their fingers, tugging him along.
“Let's go home.”
Home. Shit. He'd slipped up. He takes a peek at Oscar as they head out, only to find Oscar already looking right back at him, something incredibly soft in his eyes.
He realises that Oscar doesn't even correct him.
2.
[Image Attached]
oscarrr
sos
think these groceries might go bad but i dunno wat to make w them
Salmon would go well with that :)
.
fish.
mate
thats it
im filing for divorce
We'd have to get married first though
come here babe
ive alrdy got a ring ready
no but srsly. come over 4 dinner?
also mayb u cld cook sth for us while ur at it?
Knew it 🙄
You’re just dating me for the food
damn caught me there
what can i say tho, u look hot in an apron
🤨
I’ll be there in 20
love u ❤️
I love you too ❤️
-
Lando's probably an annoyance, hovering incessantly over the other man while Oscar bustles about in the kitchen. He had tried to help earlier, offering to cut up the vegetables, but Oscar had shooed him away.
“I'm good, I can handle this on my own. Go and put your pretty eyes to use, maybe,” Oscar had said, to which Lando had batted his eyes at him, tilting his head to peer up at him coquettishly.
“You think my eyes are pretty, Osc?"
“Mm, but I might change my mind now.”
“Oh, piss off,” Lando had huffed, snaking his arms around Oscar's waist.
They had almost forgotten to get started on dinner, too busy sucking each others’ faces up against the kitchen counter, until Lando's stomach had made a loud noise of protest at the hold up.
Now, Lando is staring unabashed at the way Oscar's t-shirt clung to his biceps as he flicks the pan. Oscar is wearing the stupid see-through apron as well, with the words Lando's Biggest Fan stamped across the front - a gag gift Lando had given him once. Lando still has yet to convince the other man to put it on without a shirt underneath. Soon though. He knows Oscar will cave eventually. He always does, because he's totally whipped, that loser.
The pasta Oscar cooks up is brilliant as always. Lando inhales it at a speed that he'll probably regret later when he's squirming in bed with indigestion.
Oscar watches him with amusement. “Think you could eat that any faster?”
“Shut up, mate, this pasta is so fucking mint,” Lando half-garbles around a mouthful of pasta.
Lando has half a mind to call Oscar out on the fact that he’s too busy affectionately watching him eat like he’s some adorable animal being put on display rather than eat his own food, but he decides he quite likes the attention like that. He can be a bit of an attention-seeker when it comes to Oscar, but sue him, that’s his boyfriend.
Later, once all the dishes have been put away, which Lando had successfully coaxed the other man to let him do just so he wouldn’t be an utter waste of space in his own apartment, he goes back to the living room to find Oscar languidly draping himself over the couch. Lando goes to squat on the floor next to him, poking at Oscar’s cheek with a still-wet hand. Oscar grunts, swatting the offending hand away.
“Mate,” Oscar grumbles.
“Yes, babe?” Lando coos, tone lilting up with saccharine sweetness.
Oscar doesn’t give him a warning, a hand hooking under an arm, the other arm snaking around his waist, and abruptly hauls him up onto the sofa. He drapes a leg over Lando, trapping him in place, effectively smothering him with his bodyweight.
“Oscar,” Lando squawks, breathless laughter leaving him.
He wiggles around for a bit, trying to get comfortable, then sighs contentedly into the junction of Oscar’s neck and shoulder where his face is being pressed into. They lie there for a while, long enough for heaviness to settle in his limbs, and judging from the way Oscar’s breathing slows, the fatigue is getting to him too.
“Stay tonight?” Lando murmurs sleepily.
“Okay.”
Lando regrettably has to roll out of the other man’s arms. He tugs on Oscar’s arms, who follows him with droopy eyelids that make him look more adorable than it has any business doing, to get him to wash up. Oscar is around often enough that he keeps a spare toothbrush there, so Lando leans his head groggily on Oscar’s shoulder as they brush their teeth. And when they crawl into bed, they settle into each other so easily, like paint colours being melded together, forming a beautiful portrait as they lie together.
And it’s all so freaking domestic like this, Lando’s heart aches so fucking much for this to be his daily life.
3.
A few weeks ago, Lando had seen Oscar going through the motions. Stressing over the deadline, days of overtime, even forgetting to have lunch. The visceral relief Lando had felt when that was all done and dusted was a testament to how invested Lando was in Oscar’s wellbeing.
Only issue was that now, it was the design team’s turn to take over the project. It had been fine, until someone had realised they had overlooked a crucial piece of information. So here Lando is, having to redo half the damn thing in one day, feeling on the verge of having a mental breakdown, because he really needs this piece of work done tonight. And there's less than 5 hours left in the day, which is barely enough time.
He can see Oscar hovering near him in his peripheral vision, not unlike a fretful mother hen. Lando appreciates it, even though he's slightly guilty about it.
“Can't you eat something at least?” Oscar suggests.
“No,” Lando bemoans, bringing his hands up to scrub at his face. His words come out muffled as he talks into the crevices of his palms. “I'm not going to get this done on time.”
Oscar steps closer to move behind him, kneading at his shoulders. Which feels brilliant. Very fucking brilliant. Lando practically melts under his touch.
“When have you ever not finished your work on time?” Oscar asks, his calm voice really doing wonders on top of his gentle ministrations.
When Lando hesitates, unable to think of an example, Oscar continues, “Exactly. You'll get it done, I know you can.”
Lando exhales, nodding, both to himself and to reassure Oscar, as he steels himself to get back to work. He's feeling a lot more focused now, spending less time eyeing the clock at the bottom of his screen, and more time fixing the errors in the design. When he next glances at the time, it's nearly 9 p.m.. And Oscar is still here.
“Osc, I’ll be fine. You’re done with your work, right? You can leave first,” Lando reassures him, shooting him a small, albeit mildly strained, smile as he glances over to him.
Oscar has his lips pressed in a displeased line. “I’ll be right back.”
Lando wants to argue and tell him not to come back (poor phrasing there but his brain is far too gone somewhere in between the fluoro yellow and the little curves he’s been trying to perfect to come up with something nicer to say), but Oscar is gone before he can even get the words out. There’s really nothing else he can do, other than to begrudgingly wait and get back to his work. Later, the smell hits him even before the sound of Oscar’s approaching footsteps can be heard. He spins around in his chair, staring up at Oscar with what Lando thinks is probably manic desperation tingeing his eyes as the other man gets closer.
“Babe, you got me spring rolls?” Lando asks, awed, as he instantly recognises the familiar packaging of the food.
Oscar smiles, a pleased pink dotting his cheeks as he hands the container to Lando. Lando kind of wants to kiss him about it, but he also really needs to get his work done, so he sends Oscar a mournful look before he starts to turn back to his computer. Oscar seems to get the message because he huffs a laugh, coming closer to place a soft kiss on the top of Lando's head over his curls. Lando feels a flush fizzle down his body from the contact, nerves sparking with something squiggly going on in his belly, because despite months of going steady, apparently a soft head kiss is enough to render him a shy blushing mess all over again.
Oscar heads back to his seat to wait, giving Lando space to focus. A full tummy really does wonders because Lando feels the most clear-headed he's felt all day. Another two hours go by. When Lando clicks on Submit, he feels the tension bleed out of his body so fast, he feels about ready to pass out with the relief of it.
When he turns to look at Oscar, he finds the other man with his head pillowed by his arms, his back moving in a gentle rise and fall in a telltale sign that he's fast asleep. Lando quickly packs up his stuff, then goes to gently shake his boyfriend by the shoulder.
“I'll drive us to my place? You can sleep over,” Lando suggests, voice hushed, once Oscar has peeled his eyes open.
Oscar nods, looking very much like a snuggly cat, all drowsy and soft. Oscar stumbles slightly as they make their way to the carpark, still halfway to dreamland, and Lando snickers at him.
“You're really so adorable when you're all sleepy,” Lando coos.
Oscar simply slides a heavy-lidded gaze in his direction.
“But thanks. For staying. And for the dinner. You really didn't have to,” Lando says earnestly.
Oscar gives him a sleepy, easy smile. “You'd do the same for me too.”
-
When they come into work the next morning, Oscar suddenly scoots his chair closer and pokes Lando on the arm.
“I think I got the wrong shirt,” he says.
They’re not too different in size, but it’s quite apparent from the way the shirt clings to the other man’s broader shoulders that it’s definitely the wrong shirt. Lando takes a moment to appreciate the sight, before he tugs at a sleeve to sniff at it. And- Huh. He really can’t differentiate the smells of their detergent anymore. Have they been washing their shirts together too often these days?
“PDA this early in the morning?”
George suddenly appears next to Lando's desk, depositing a huge folder that Lando's apparently supposed to read through, and Lando wants to throttle him.
4.
“Can't come to work today,” Lando mutters into the phone. He's aware of how his voice wobbles in a pained grimace.
“Are you okay?” Oscar's voice comes out teeny through the speakers. Lando can feel the pain emanating from the throbbing in his ankle, it's sapping all the energy from him, so he has Oscar on speaker with his phone dropped somewhere next to the pillow.
“Fuck no. Feels like I'm dying here, mate. Think I fucked my ankle,” Lando grumbles.
“I'll come by soon. I'll get off work early today.”
“No no, I'll be fine. I'll just go and see a doctor later today,” Lando frowns even though the other man can't see him.
Lando can hear the smile in Oscar's voice when he says in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, “Alright, see you later, baby.”
Then he freaking hangs up on him. Lando groans at no one in particular, flops over on the bed, then promptly passes out again because being injured is exhausting for some reason.
-
The next time he's fully awake again, Lando is immediately greeted with the sight of Oscar seated on a chair, laptop balanced on his lap as he frowns against the emanating light. Lando does not scream but it's a close thing.
“God, Oscar, you fucker. You scared me,” Lando gasps out.
This in turn snaps Oscar out of his concentration, who almost looks just as spooked as Lando feels. Serves him right, that freaking ninja.
“Shit, sorry,” Oscar says, sheepish. “I got in with the keys you gave me.”
Lando tries to say something, to reassure him that it's fine, but he jostles his leg as he moves to sit up and pain immediately lances up his ankle. He doubles over, clutching at it with a groan. Oscar is immediately by his side.
“I'll drive you to see the doctor,” Oscar says as he gets them both up to their feet.
Lando feels stupid, having to hobble along while clutching at Oscar's arm. It makes him feel utterly weak and useless. Oscar notices the foul mood he's in and doesn't try to push anything onto him. He silently offers up a hand, a shoulder, anything to provide support without making it too obvious that Lando is a useless deadweight right now, that he needs the help.
Even after they're back at his apartment, ankle bundled up with a strict doctor's warning to stay away from strenuous activity, Oscar continues to attend to him but it doesn't feel like a constant nagging hovering that Lando would usually hate. Oscar is just safe and comfortable and everything Lando needs right now. A perfect distraction from the excruciating pain that's constantly just there radiating around his leg now that the painkillers have worn off.
When they're snuggling lazily on the sofa after dinner, Lando nuzzles apologies into the warmth of Oscar's shoulder - apologies for being snippy, apologies for being a burden, apologies for his useless fucking leg.
“Stop, Lando,” Oscar says almost viciously. “Stop apologising. I like taking care of you. I like that you trust me to take care of you. How can I get you to understand that?”
Lando sighs, a wistful exhale of air. It's hard to believe that someone like Oscar is actually happy to waste his time with someone like him. Honestly, to force Oscar to share a whole living space with him - permanently - feels like an unattainable dream, something he shouldn't even begin to consider.
But. He trusts Oscar. So he hangs on to every word he says and tries to convince himself to just accept it. Still, he's not going to ask Oscar to stay. He's done more than enough for him these past couple of hours.
“Okay,” Lando mumbles, if only to appease Oscar. “It's getting late. You wanna head back?”
“No,” Oscar says, “I think I'll stay for a bit, at least until your leg heals up. If that's okay with you?”
The soft sincere smile Oscar gives him possibly hurts more than his leg, because his heart violently squeezes at the sight and holy fuck, he's really really in love with the other man.
“Stop being so- Ugh. Fuck. I love you, Osc.”
Oscar continues to look at him with that soft fond expression, only now it's tinged with amusement. “I love you too. So, is that a yes?”
“Yes, you muppet. Take me to bed now.”
Lando's heart does something totally embarrassing, swooping down into his stomach when Oscar suddenly hooks an arm under his knees with his other arm supporting Lando's back, carrying him to the direction of his bedroom. Lando grumbles loudly about it, but he'll never admit he loves the feeling of Oscar's arms, strong and secure, supporting his weight, and the feel of his shoulder against Lando's cheek as he inhales the faint whiffs of detergent and Oscar's very Oscar-like scent. It doesn't matter anyway, Lando supposes, because he's pretty sure Oscar already knows it.
“Oscar.”
“Hm?”
“Just admit you like my bed better. This is just one of your excuses to get in my bed, isn't it?”
Lando can feel the shaking in Oscar's body as he laughs, still bundled up in his arms. Lando kind of wants to drown in the sound and feel of it.
Distantly, he also wonders if Oscar knows how much he'd like to go to bed with him everyday for the rest of his life.
5.
“I think I left my shaver at your place,” Oscar says in lieu of a greeting.
“You have hair to shave?”
“Ha. Very funny,” Oscar deadpans.
“I know,” Lando beams at him. “You love it.”
Oscar rolls his eyes but his lips betray him and twitch up slightly.
“And I’d love it if I could come by and pick up my shaver later.”
Lando hums, making a show of raking his eye over the other man.
“Your goatee game isn't as good as mine,” Lando says, then steps forward, leaning up to bring their faces close enough that their lips touch, but barely enough to be considered a kiss. It sends flutters exploding in his stomach at the contact nonetheless. ”But you look good either way.”
Lando feels the way Oscar smiles against him when he properly slots their lips together. Lando tries to tilt his head, attempting to deepen the kiss, but Oscar pulls away, in turn pulling out an embarrassing whine from Lando.
“If you want to get public indecency complaints from our colleagues, I'm all for taking you right here. But I think that should wait for when we're alone, sweetheart.”
And now Lando wants to murder him, because his words just send a wave of blood plummeting south and now he doesn't know how he's going to get any work done. Oscar has a knowing smirk on his face when Lando mumbles an excuse and scurries away to the bathroom.
-
They stop by a restaurant for dinner before they head to Lando’s apartment later. They spread the containers around on the floor, because there’s only so many times you can spill food on the sofa before it isn’t funny any more. And it’s easier for Lando to kick and prod at Oscar when they are seated like this as they banter over their meal. Well, as they banter and Lando steals bites of Oscar's meal.
They go for a few rounds on Lando's gaming console after dinner. There's something oddly domestic about the whole vibe here, with how he's screeching and yelling curses at Oscar when said person gets him killed repeatedly (“Seriously, Oscar. Whose team are you on?”) while they're seated on the floor with their backs against the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with their legs intertwined.
“Do you need to go back?” Lando sighs, cheek pressed into the cotton of Oscar’s shirt, once Oscar decides it's late enough to call it a night.
“I should. I’m starting to forget how my bed feels with how often I’m sleeping over now,” Oscar says, lips pulled into a drowsy rueful smile.
Lando frowns, pouts, pulls out the puppy dogs eyes. He sees the wavering resolve in Oscar’s eyes, because as established, he’s a whipped loser.
“Fine,” he exhales, eyes crinkling from the way he smiles.
Lando pulls him down to pepper kisses around the scrunch lines, then proceeds to drown the rest of his face in kisses too, feeling the other man melt into a sleepy puddle.
-
When Lando returns to his apartment alone the following day after work, he realises Oscar’s shaver is still slotted neatly next to his.
+1
Lando gets the door when the doorbell rings, because it’s a Sunday and he’s up at a human time, while Oscar is still attempting to burrow himself into the blankets because he’s not very human there. His alarm is still going off, screeching obscenely in the background, but Lando’s long gotten accustomed to it, having been awoken by it countless times while the other man can’t even peel his eyes open enough to press on the snooze button. Lando sometimes shoves his foot into Oscar’s side, hoping the press of his toes into sensitive regions can stir him awake enough, but Lando knows a losing game when he sees one. Waking up Oscar when he doesn’t want to wake up is always a losing game.
Once Lando gets the parcel inside, he almost rips away the tape on the side of the box before he realises the name of the addressee.
“Osc,” he calls, carrying the box over to the bedroom and dumping it on the human-shaped lump currently engulfed by the quilt with only tufts of fluffy brown hair peeking out.
It takes a few seconds of Lando incessantly poking and Oscar obstinately wriggling, before his head pokes out of the top.
“S’rry,” he slurs, voice thick with sleep. “S’mine.”
He pushes himself up into a seating position, blinking owlishly at the package like it’s an alien that has just insulted his distant Italian or Chinese ancestors.
Lando gives him a moment, before asking, “You got it delivered here?”
“Yeah,” Oscar shrugs, voice clearing up slightly as he rubs his eyes. “I’m around at your place more often than I’m at mine. I might as well be living here already.”
Lando halts. Stares. Feels his face heat up. Manages to squeak out: “Really?”
Oscar looks at him for a moment, gaze calculative. Then he shuffles closer to the edge of the bed, tugging at Lando’s hand. Lando has to suppress a shiver when Oscar sweeps a thumb soothingly across his knuckles, the gesture screaming in its intimacy.
“I think you’ve been trying to hint at me that we should move in together,” he says, doing that adorable face scrunchie thing he does, “and I’ve been trying to hint at you that I am already trying to move in with you.”
“So we’ve both just been idiots about this,” Lando surmises, still trying not to squirm. It helps that Oscar’s whole face is doing that thing where pink blotches are appearing on his neck and painting his cheeks. It kind of makes Lando want to do something like kiss him silly and make him blush even harder.
Oscar nods, chewing on his lip. “Then, um, can I properly move in with you?”
The speed at which Lando throws himself at the other man is almost a guarantee for disaster, if it weren’t for the way Oscar is steady and reflexively quick enough to catch him. Although they still end up crashing to the bed in a tangle, with Oscar wheezing out an “oomph”.
“Yes, you muppet. Fucking move in with me and marry me already,” Lando breathes.
Lando sees the flections in Oscar’s eyes, face morphing with surprise as Lando’s words hit him fully. He huffs out a laugh then, something joyful and unabashed.
“Mate, that’s the worst proposal I’ve ever heard. Do you even have a ring?”
“No,” Lando pouts. “But we’ll go and look at rings together, then I’ll properly propose to you again. So is that a yes?”
“Yes, Lando,” Oscar sounds fondly exasperated, but his eyes are shining with amusement.
Lando's lips curl up mischievously then. “So you admit that my place is better than yours?”
Lando forgets who he's talking to, and that this is Oscar he's talking to. Oscar tips forward into his space, the proximity enough to make Lando's skin heat up.
“Of course. Because you're here.”
“You muppet,” Lando mumbles, trying not to blush, then leans forward the rest of the way to kiss him into silence.