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The first thing Lando noticed when he woke up wasn’t the sunlight streaming through the curtains, or the faint hum of air conditioning, or even the quiet knock of housekeeping somewhere down the hall.
It was Oscar.
Or, more specifically, Oscar’s hair.
It was a catastrophe. A natural disaster in tufts and curls, sticking out in every direction as if he’d spent the night in a wind tunnel.
Some of it had been flattened by the pillow, while another stubborn bit stood upright like it was trying to pick a fight.
Lando felt the smile before he realized it had spread across his face. His chest ached with something warm, like the sight of it alone was enough to make the whole world pause.
He shifted on the mattress, propping his head up with one hand. His other hand itched to touch, to comb through the mess with fingers that had no business being so fond.
“You’re staring.”
Oscar’s voice was still heavy with sleep, muffled by the pillow he was half-buried in. He didn’t open his eyes.
“I’m not staring,” Lando lied. “I’m appreciating.”
That got a quiet huff out of him, though it was hard to tell if it was amusement or annoyance. Oscar cracked one eye open, squinting at him.
“Appreciating what? That I look like I’ve been electrocuted?”
“Exactly that.” Lando leaned in, grinning shamelessly. “It’s perfect.”
Oscar groaned and shoved his face back into the pillow. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously in love with your messy hair.”
The words slipped out easier than they should have, as though mornings like this had a way of breaking down his filter.
Lando didn’t regret them—not when Oscar’s shoulders shook in a quiet laugh, not when he peeked out from the pillow with the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
“You’re unbelievable,” Oscar said, voice soft.
Lando’s grin softened into something smaller, more tender. He reached out, brushing his fingers gently through the chaotic strands.
They were soft, stubborn, falling right back into place the moment he moved them.
“Can’t help it. It’s my favorite version of you.”
Oscar tilted his head slightly, eyes still half-closed but studying him now.
“Messy?”
“Real,” Lando corrected. He leaned down, pressing a lazy kiss to Oscar’s temple.
“Just you. No cameras, no helmets, no PR. Just this.”
For a moment, Oscar didn’t move. Then, slowly, he shifted onto his back, blinking fully awake now.
His messy hair haloed around his head against the pillow, and Lando swore his heart was going to combust.
“Come here,” Oscar murmured.
Lando didn’t need telling twice.
Kissing Oscar in the mornings was different. Softer, unhurried, with none of the rushed, desperate edge of stolen moments at race weekends.
Oscar tasted faintly like sleep, his lips warm and pliant as Lando leaned into him.
Lando kissed him once. Twice. Three times, lingering longer each time until Oscar was laughing quietly against his mouth.
“What?” Lando asked between kisses.
“You,” Oscar said simply, tugging him closer until there wasn’t any space left.
“You don’t stop.”
“Never,” Lando whispered, brushing his nose against his cheek. “Not when you kiss me like that.”
Oscar’s hand slid into his hair, holding him there as he kissed him again, deeper this time. It stole Lando’s breath, made his chest feel like it was too small to hold everything inside it.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them a little dazed, Lando let out a shaky laugh. “You really love kissing me, huh?”
Oscar didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”
And the way he said it—quiet, matter-of-fact, as though it were the simplest truth in the world—made Lando’s heart flip over.
They stayed like that for a while, tangled in sheets and sunlight, trading kisses that melted into laughter, laughter that melted into kisses again.
Every time Lando tried to fix Oscar’s hair, running his fingers through the mess, it only made it worse.
Oscar groaned, swatting at him half-heartedly, but he was smiling too much for the complaint to land.
Eventually, Oscar nudged him. “We should get up. Before someone from the team comes looking for us.”
Lando groaned, burying his face in Oscar’s chest. “Five more minutes.”
“You said that fifteen minutes ago.”
“Yeah, and it was true then, too.”
Oscar chuckled, carding a hand through Lando’s curls. “You’re impossible.”
Lando tilted his head up, grinning. “And you love me for it.”
Oscar’s expression softened. He didn’t say anything right away, but the way his thumb brushed gently over Lando’s cheek was answer enough.
By the time they dragged themselves out of bed and into something vaguely presentable, the hotel restaurant was bustling. Most of the team had already eaten, but a few familiar faces were still scattered around.
They slipped into a quieter corner, Lando trying very hard not to laugh at the fact that Oscar’s hair—despite his best efforts with water and his hands—was still refusing to cooperate.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Oscar muttered, reaching for the coffee pot.
“Like what?” Lando asked innocently.
“Like you’re—” Oscar cut himself off, cheeks faintly pink as he poured his cup.
“Like I’m hopelessly in love with you?” Lando finished with a grin.
Oscar shot him a look that promised revenge later, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward anyway.
They ate in companionable silence, stealing small glances when no one was watching. Every time Oscar ducked his head over his food, that stubborn tuft of hair stood up proudly, and Lando had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.
It was perfect. Too perfect.
Which was exactly why it nearly went wrong.
“Morning, boys.”
Lando almost choked on his orange juice when he heard their race engineer’s voice. He turned his head just in time to see him approaching their table.
Oscar’s hand twitched on the table, like he’d almost reached for Lando’s without thinking. He quickly shoved it into his lap instead.
“Morning,” Oscar said, voice impressively steady.
“Didn’t see you two come in together,” the engineer said casually, pulling up a chair.
“You sharing breakfast now?”
Lando’s heart stopped. For half a second, he was sure the game was up.
Oscar didn’t even blink. “We got here at the same time,” he said smoothly.
“Coincidence.”
“Right,” the engineer said, raising a brow. He glanced between them, eyes narrowing slightly.
Lando forced a laugh, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth just to have something to do.
“Yeah, total coincidence. You know, teammates and all that. Can’t get rid of him.”
Oscar shot him the tiniest glare, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile.
The engineer gave them a long look, then shrugged, reaching for the coffee pot.
“Well, whatever works for you two. Just don’t be late for briefing.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lando said quickly.
They watched him leave, tension slowly bleeding out of the air.
Lando let out a low whistle. “That was close.”
Oscar’s eyes flicked to him, dry as ever. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“You’re the one who saved us,” Lando shot back.
Oscar allowed himself the faintest smile. “Guess I’m good under pressure.”
Lando leaned closer, lowering his voice.
“Remind me to kiss you later as a reward.”
Oscar smirked, just enough for his eyes to soften.
“You don’t need an excuse.”
And just like that, the morning was theirs again—messy hair, stolen smiles, and all.