#from caco | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparkleofpizza · 7 months ago

Text

The Alchemy

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Two idiots.

THE 2020 SEASON

WINTER BREAK London, England, 2020

Formula 1 might be on a break, but university isn’t. I’ve been studying non stop and working all my free time to get extra credit so I’d be able to graduate early, right at the end of spring so I’d have the rest of the year more chilled out.

But being a 21 year old college student, living alone at an apartment at a college campus meant trouble, obviously, and that’s how after long hours of studying at the library, instead of being in my bed catching up on some sleep, I was at a frat house party.

The music was blaring and I was nursing my third drink of night, but in all honesty completely tired now that the alcohol had relaxed me.

I was sitting on the couch, watching my friends dance around me. I grab my phone to get some pictures of them when I notice a new notification.

Lando: what are u up to on a Friday night as a college student?

Lando and I have been texting non stop since the end of the 2019 season, our friendship solidified. We even hung out a couple of times in between Christmas and new years. And now he has been bugging me that I’ve been working and studying too much.

Me: I’m at a frat house party

He instantly replied back.

Lando: YOURE WHERE DOING WHAT

Me: I’m at a frat house party

I smirk to myself as I texted back the same question then before.

Lando: no way, you’re messing with me

I open the camera of my phone, scratching my arm out as I smile hazily before snapping a picture and sending it to him.

Lando: OMG ARE U DRUNK????

Me: yessss

I expected him to make fun of me, but his answer caught me a bit of guard.

Lando: are u alone?

Lando: who’s with u?

Me: my friends are around here somewhere

There a few minutes of silence from his since and I wonder if our conversation is over. He probably fell asleep.

My phone buzzes again.

Lando: how are u going home?

Me: I’ll walk back to my apartment, why?

He’s typing and typing and typing. I bite my lip anxiously, wondering what he’s going to say. Is he going to ask me to let him pick me up? Like in those romance books where the guy picks up the girl from a party when she’s drunk?

Lando: ok

My face falls momentarily.

Lando: I’m not in London

Lando: be careful and text me when you get home safe

I smile, so he was considering picking me up.

Melbourne, Australia, 2020

The world was insane, and I was going insane with it. I was higenyzing my hand every time I touched something. I was in an alert state of the coronavirus.

“They should have canceled the race.” I say, taking a seat with Lando, Carlos and Caco at the McLaren hospitality. “They are saying there are employees who got infected.”

I squeeze hand sanitizer on my hand, rubbing it.

“You’re talking about as if it’s some kind of zombie apocalypse.” Lando chuckles, draping his arm casually over the back of my chair “Relax, they wouldn’t keep up the race if it wasn’t safe.”

Carlos nods “Lando is right.”

I scoff with a tense smile “Oh, but they would. FIA doesn’t care about it, they care about the money. They always have and always will.”

The boys are silent for a moment before Caco nods his head.

“Hamilton and Vettel said something similar during the press conference.” He says “And they’ve been around the same amount of time you have.”

My phone rings and it’s Sophie calling. I quickly brings it to my ear, listening to what she has to say. My frown only deepens when she says two McLaren employees tested positive for covid and that there are more people around the paddock with symptoms as well.

I hang up the phone.

“The teams principals are gathering together to get FIA to cancel the race.” I tell them, watching as both drivers’ faces fall in disappointment “Two McLaren employees tested positive and there are other people around the paddock who are feeling ill as well.”

We gather our things and start to make our way to the McLaren garage, probably the news will get there first if the race is canceled.

I hang back on the group and Lando slows his steps to walk beside me.

“Can’t believe we just got back and we’re already going to leave and be without racing.” He groans, a whine voice a bit high pitched.

“It’s better for it to be canceled and you getting the chance to race again when it’s safer, then getting sick and ending up in the hospital.”

He sighs, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You’re right. I was just excited to give my all at this new season.”

I smile “I know, and you will soon.”

He smiles back at me, nudging me with his shoulder.

“So, are you gonna be able to graduate this spring?”

“I am! I mean, I’ve been doing everything possible for it to happen and I think it will.”

Lando smiles and for a brief moment his fingers brush against mine in a sweet gesture.

“That’s great. I’ll make sure to be there cheering for you at your graduation.”

And my heart flutters at his words.

PANDEMIC London, England, 2020

“Did I do it right? Are you listening to me?” I ask into the microphone I bought.

Lando’s face show up on the screen of my computer, grinning widely.

“Hiiii! Yes, you did. Now turn on your camera so I can see your face.”

“How do I do it?” I ask, completely lost as I had never used the app discord before. “Oh, never mind, found it.”

“Look at you!” Lando beamed “Are those bunny ears on your hoodie?” I chuckle as I put on the hoodie over my head so he can see the bunny ears “You look adorable! Doesn’t she look adorable, chat?”

I tilt my head to the side, confused.

“Chat? What chat? It’s just the two of us here.”

Lando laughed “I’m streaming, muppet.”

“You’re what?!” I screech “Lando! Why didn’t you tell me we’d be live? I’m in my pijamas!”

He laughs again “You still look adorable and the chat agrees with me.”

I huff, flustered at his words and at the fact that I’m live for god knows how many people while I’m wearing my bunny pajamas. If people didn’t take me serious before, they never will now.

“Now, here’s what we’re going to do.” He claps his hand, a mischievous smile on his face “You’re going to play LOL with me.”

“LOL? But I only know how to play the sims.”

“Yes, you’re going to play LOL. I think it’s the easiest for now.”

As I download the game and start to follow the tutorial, all while sharing my screen with Lando and him judging me at how I can manage to keep dying on the tutorial, I wonder how in the holy hell he managed to convince me to play online with him.

Finally, after an eternity, I finish the tutorial and I start to play with him. Lando keeps instructing me because I don’t even know what buttons to press on my keyboard and he keeps screaming that I’m not running fast enough.

“Oh my God!” I scream “I died! I died!”

Lando laughs delighted.

“My screen is black and white! Why is my screen black and white? Is my computer broken? LANDO!”

That only makes him laugh harder, that infectious laugh of him as I keep yelling questions of what I should do next.

My dad opens the door to my bedroom, peeking his head inside, looking concerned as he calls out my name.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, walking further into the room “I can hear you screaming from the living room.”

“Yeah, sorry dad. I’m playing online with Lando and I died.”

My father chuckles, bending down slightly to look at my screen. He smiles at Lando while waving.

“Hello, Lando. Have you been taking care of yourself while quarantining?”

Lando smiles back as he nods “Yes, I have. Your daughter also texts me everyday reminding me what I can and can’t do. It’s like she thinks I will die because I’m living on my own.”

My dad looks amused at me, but he knows I’m right and Lando would have probably set his house or fire by now if I haven’t been instructing him properly on certain things.

My dad pats my head as he stands up straight again “I will leave you kids to it. Take care, Lando.”

“Thank you, Jenson! You too!” Lando smiles. “Now, where were we?”

Later that night, after four hours of online gaming with Lando, I lied in bed scrolling through my social medias. I couldn’t help to read the comments people were making about our live stream together.

Jenson Button worried about Lando I CANT

OMG y/n checking up on Lando daily to make sure he survives

So am I the only one who thinks there’s something there?

She can’t suck on her dads fame anymore bc he’s retired so now she’s going after Norris

I sigh, closing Twitter and putting my phone on the bedside table. People are mean.

Spielberg, Austria, 2020

July and we’re back at Formula 1. The season is being cut short, there won’t be fans attending, but we’re back at racing.

I finished my finals a week ago, just in time to go back to traveling. My dad gave an hour-long lecture about safety and health before finally letting me board the plane.

I haven’t seen Lando and Carlos yet, but I have met uncle Seb who is pissed off at Ferrari for firing him over the phone. I could tell for the way he was talking about meetings and stuff he has to do that he’s plotting something and I couldn’t help but smirk at whatever hell fire he will bring down on Mattia Binotto.

I enter the McLaren garage and I smile underneath my mask as I see Lando talking to his engineer. He turns his head when he hears my footsteps.

He basically bonces on his feet until he meets me halfway.

“Hi!” He says loudly “It’s so good to finally see you in person again!” His eyes are wide “Can I hug you? I want to hug you. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I want to. I haven’t touched anyone in months and and…”

I cut him off with a laugh as I wrap my arms around his middle, resting my head on his chest. Lando brings his arms around me, squeezing me onto his body.

“Hi, Lando. I missed your energetic aura.”

I feel his grin against my shoulder, even with half his face covered in a mask.

“I missed you.” He says back.

He detangles himself from he hug, but keep his hands on my shoulders. He analyzes my face.

“You really do look good with bangs.”

I chuckle, running my hands over the bangs I cut on my hair after a moment of reflection and desperation when I couldn’t leave the house.

“Thank you. It was a moment of… insanity, but at least it looks good.”

He laughs “Oh I know. You texted me like fifteen times saying you did something horrible and it was just bangs.”

I shake my head “Hey, to be fair you called me at two in the morning to ask me how to kill a wasp and I had to wake up my dad to ask him.”

Lando's eyes widened in mock sadness.

“Hey, your dad loves me! I’m sure he was very very delighted to be woken up in the middle of the night to give out instructions on how to kill a wasp.”

I snort out a laugh.

Later that weekend, after the race was finished, I watched as Lando parked his car in p3. It was the first podium of his Formula 1 career. He had been screaming on the radio during the last five laps and I was grinning like an idiot behind my mask.

He got out of the car, helmet still on as he ran to the team, letting them hug him and clap his back. The whole McLaren garage was in a frenzy of celebration.

I’m waiting for him by the parc fermé, to guide him to the podium and then to the press conference room where they interview the winner, second and third place of the race.

Lando takes off his helmet and balaclava and I see his whole face for the first time this year. He has a huge smile on his face as he runs to where I am.

“My first podium!” He yells

I smile “Congratulations, Lando. It was beautiful to watch.”

He wraps his arms around me, jumping around and making me jump with him as I laugh.

“My first podium! Oh fuck! I’m gonna get a trophy!”

I giggle, letting him jump around with me “Yes, you are, Lando, you’re getting a trophy!”

He then stop jumping and just gazed into my eyes, the smile never dropping out of his face.

“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re the one here and not Sophie.”

My heart leaps on my chest.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Silverstone, England, 2020

It was the Silverstone Grand Prix weekend, there were going to be two weekends of races here. My dad had decided to come along since this is his home race and he wants to relive some of the memories.

I walk inside the McLaren hospitality with my dad who is babbling about my graduation to one of the mechanics that have been working here since his driving days.

I hear someone yell my name and I know that voice very well. I turn around and there is Lando, no mask on his face, grinning widely.

“Hey.” I smile back, walking to where he’s sitting

He stands up fast and lifts his hands up, holding a beautiful bouquet of pink flowers.

I gasp in surprise.

“I couldn’t go to your graduation because the attendance was limited, but I couldn’t let it pass by.” He hands me the flowers before enveloping me in a hug “Congratulations, love. I’m very proud of you.”

For some reason his words and sweet gestures make tears gather in my eyes. It’s probably because I was expecting my graduation to be a big even, full of people who I love and cherish and that didn’t happen because of the pandemic.

“Thank you, Lan. This means a lot to me.”

He squeezes me before letting me go. He wipes some of the tears that leaked out to my eyes.

“I know this is a special moment and you wanted it to be a big celebration. We’ll go out to celebrate once things get better, alright? My treat.”

I smile, hugging the flowers to my chest.

“You’re the best, Lan.”

He winked at me.

“Only the best for my best girl.”

My dad stood to the side, watching the scene with a smile on his face. I didn’t know that now, but he took pictures of all of that happening.

Krasnodar Krai, Russia, 2020

Carlos broke the news to the team two weeks ago during our weekly zoom calls. Lando had shut himself out the moment his best friend on the grid said he’s leaving McLaren to go to Ferrari.

He hasn’t been answering my texts or sending me TikToks. He even declined my calls and I was growing not only worried, but annoyed as well.

I knock on his hotel door late at night. My flight had landed an hour ago, I got to the hotel, showered and now here I am knocking on his door.

Lando opens the door, his curly hair disheveled and he’s only in sweatpants.

“You’re not room service.” He says

I glare at him.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” I accuse him, hands on my waist.

“I uh… I’ve been busy…” he stretches the back of his neck “a lot of work.”

“We work together, I know you haven’t been busy.” I glare even harder now “Stop lying to me.”

He stepped to the side and let me inside his room. I walk past him, going to the middle of the room as I stand there with my arms crossed. Lando sits on the bed and looks at me.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” He answered too quickly.

“Lando… you’ve been ignoring me ever since Carlos told us that he’s leaving for Ferrari.”

He grows quiet and looks away from me.

I sigh. “Lando, just because he’s switching teams it does not mean he won’t be your friend anymore. It will be a bit different because you won’t be together all the time like the past two years, but he’s not gonna forget about you.”

He nods. “I know. Carlos already told me all that.”

“Then why have you been ignoring me?” I ask confused. I thought he was isolating because he was sad that Carlos is leaving, but if he’s already on good terms with it, than what’s wrong.

“Because I’m preparing myself from when you leave me as well.” Lando says, he doesn’t look at me, his eyes trained on the carpet floor.

“Wha- What?” I ask completely dumbfounded “What do you mean when I leave you as well?”

He runs a hand through his hair “You’re an intern at the communication department and- and you just graduated from uni. I know you will leave me at the end of the year as well. You’ll move on to much bigger and better things. I’m just… trying to soften the blow of being without you.”

There’s a moment of silence as I process his words. He still won’t look at me and I’m too stunned to speak anything. He’s sad because he doesn’t want to be without me.

Finally, I snap out of it.

“Oh Lando.” I whisper softly, kneeling in front of him and peering up at him. “Lando, no.”

He shakes his head “I know, ok? I’m not dumb…”

I cup his face in my hands to get him to stop talking. He looks at me in surprise and I can see the broken look in his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please, don’t lie to me.” He whispered brokenly “Just rip the bandaid already.”

“I’m not lying.” I say, catching a stray tear from his eye with my thumb and wiping it away. “McLaren hired me to be their junior PR manager. You would have known that if you haven’t been declining my calls, you muppet.”

He widens his eyes.

“You’re not leaving?”

I shake my head “No. You’re stuck with me.”

Lando breaths out a laugh, resting his forehead against mine as he closes his eyes.

“Oh, thank god. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

I smile, enjoying our close proximity.

“You don’t have to say goodbye. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good… good.” He mumbled. “I don’t want you to leave my side.”

We stay like that for a few moments longer, before he helps me stand up from the floor. Lando pats the bed and I soon join him. We lay on opposite sides, he covers us up and we stay in silence, enjoining each other's company as we fall asleep. Right now we don’t need to say anything, everything is understood in the comfortable silence that hugs us.

Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia, 2020

It was yet once again the last race of the season.

Lando had a great finish in p5, and although he had a happy smile on his face we took team pictures and toasted, I could see he was sad. This was Carlos's last race as Lando’s teammate. And I could see Carlos was a bit sad as well.

The team principals had gathered together and rented out a club in the city so the party would be just the Formula 1 team and drivers. We had been traveling together all year in the middle of the chaos of the pandemic, so we were all kind of in the same boat, if someone was sick, the odds of everyone else also being sick were extremely high.

I watched from a far as Lewis celebrated his seventh championship. I chuckled as he, Valtteri and Toto started a shot competition between the three of them. Sebastian was chanting chug chug chug and waving his hands around.

I feel the familiar presence of Lando standing beside me as he nurses his drink.

“How was your second year as a Formula 1 employee?” He asks me.

I smile against the rim of my glass. Just one year ago he had asked me the same question, at the rooftop of the VIP lounge at the paddock, hours before the last race of the season began.

“It was weird. My last year as an intern, next year I will have to reinvent myself to be on top of my game.”

“You’re already on the top of your game.” He nudges my shoulder with his arm.

“Yeah, but I still haven’t proved myself here.” I point out.

Lando frowns, turning his body around to look at me. I’m leaning against the wall and now he’s looming over me.

“Have you been getting hate online?”

I give him a weak smile.

“Let’s not talk about this right now. Tonight is about celebrating.”

He’s still frowning and opens his mouth to protest when I cut him off.

“How was your second year as Formula 1 driver?”

He chuckles, probably recalling the same memory from last year. He rests his forearm on the wall right beside my head.

“It was good and weird. I got my first podium ever. I also lost my first teammate…” Lando smiles a bit. “And I got you to be here with me one more year.”

I smile, raising my glass.

“Here’s to another year of Norris and Button traveling around the world together.”

Lando grins, clinking his glass against mine.

“Together.” He repeats.

#fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you

214 notes · View notes

antimonyandthyme · 8 months ago

Text

2k, carcar, dress

“No,” Oscar said firmly. “No, no, no. This is all wrong on you.”

“I don’t.” Carlos ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Not a little big stung. Surely it didn’t look so bad. “I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

It was true it wasn’t his favourite shade of purple. And it was shorter than what he would’ve liked. With his heels he would be spending the entire night tugging the dress down. But it was tight around the waist, and it made him look, well. Pretty good, all things considered.

“What’s wrong with it,” Carlos said, a little plaintively. A little defensively. This had to have been his worst idea yet.

He didn’t know why he was having trouble meeting Oscar’s eyes through the mirror. It didn’t make any sense, why Oscar looked this way. Almost offended at the violet on Carlos’s skin. It didn’t make Carlos feel any better about having to put himself through this dog-and-pony show.

“It’s just not good,” Oscar said.

Carlos hid the way that grazed his underbelly by fiddling with the zip of the dress. Oscar’s fingers twitched by his sides, and for a delusional second, Carlos assumed he would come over and help.

“Fine,” Carlos said, relieved his voice didn’t wobble. “What do you suggest?”

Oscar didn’t answer, too busy rifling through the rack with an intensity Carlos had only known him to reserve for driving. He pushed away the Elie Saab which just so happened to be another unfortunate shade of lavender, then flicked through the long-sleeved Valentino as if he had just tasted a lemon. You’ve lost your mind, Carlos wanted to say. It’s a dress. For the silliest event of the year. With the silliest rules I’m just so happened to be bound by.

“No red,” Carlos said faintly. He didn’t know if he could stomach that, wearing a reminder of his dismissal on the very last event on their calendar, before he could finally be rid of horses and pretty teammates.

“No,” Oscar agreed. He sounded fervent. “Try this one.”

A midnight-blue backless Guy Laroche. It seemed—dignified. Nobody needed to stare at him head-on, they could do so from the back. That was fine with Carlos, just fine.

But then Oscar looked away, when Carlos slipped out of one noose into another, and Carlos’s gut churned with a resentment that he couldn’t bite down.

He would’ve paid the twenty-thousand dollar fine to skip this event entirely. The past three years he played the part obediently, wrapped himself in the shade everyone expected him to adorn. Stood next to Charles, who always looked as if rose were made for his skin. Carlos was tired. That was the simple truth of it.

Caco had grimaced, when Carlos half-jokingly half-hopefully said he might play hooky this year. They both knew it wasn’t possible. Ferrari was looking, even though the weight of their gaze shouldn’t matter any longer. Williams was looking. As was everyone else who carried opinions and expectations that seemed to stack against his future.

There were maybe a few people, he didn’t mind looking. Lando was always cheerful, leading him in dances that would result in Carlos giving up and tossing his heels. Gigi always got teary-eyed whenever Carlos dressed up. Then there was another—

Well. Who currently didn’t seem to want to look at Carlos at all.

Oscar happened to be there in the last race. Surprisingly made the effort for small talk. “Any plans for the break,” he’d said, and he’d looked as if he really wanted to know.

“I’ve got the FIA thing,” Carlos said. Then winced, because duh. They all had it. The reality of not having plans settled uncomfortably around his throat. It was kind of sad. He just had to get through the prize-giving for last place, and then, only then, would Carlos think about what came next.

“Don’t sound so excited,” Oscar said wryly. He sounded kind, like he knew. Actually. That probably wasn’t—Oscar was just being polite. Carlos was remembering it all wrong. Oscar probably sounded just like how he always sounded.

The Carlos who had just finished his final lap with a team who didn’t want him anymore was too worn down to notice. It was a kindness, and he had reached for it greedily like a starving man.

“I hate going to the gala,” he blurted out.

“Ah,” Oscar said. He was fully turned toward Carlos now. Carlos was probably also remembering this part wrong.

“I never.” He swallowed. “I never know what to wear.”

Stupid, silly things to be worried about. He was driving for Williams next year, and he was worried about what to wear. Such nonsense. The same kind of fruitlessness as gripping the wheel harder when skidding off a track with busted tyres.

Oscar’s mouth opened, then shut. If Carlos wasn’t being so morose, he would’ve scored some smugness, rendering Oscar speechless. A feat. He would have to remember this one.

“Anyway,” Carlos started, attempting to spare Oscar the need to formulate a response to something so banal. “I’ll probably just throw something on—”

“I have sisters,” Oscar said.

“Oh-kay,” Carlos said. Oscar’s talked about them before. “I think I knew that.”

“I mean, I could. I could help.”

It was Carlos’s turn for his mouth to flop open. “Help. Eh. As in?”

“Help dress you,” Oscar said.

Oscar fiddled with the straw of his bottle, then took a long, long sip. In that span of time, Carlos’s mouth stayed open. For the first time ever, he cursed the fact that Abu Dhabi was a night race. He couldn’t see Oscar’s expression clearly enough.

“I mean,” Oscar tried again, sounding like he was scraping foam desperately off gravel, “if you want. If you. Uh, wanted a second eye. I could, maybe help you pick something?”

Carlos’s voice wasn’t working.

Oscar barrelled on determinedly. Very un-Oscar-like, except for the determinedly. “It’s, uhm. You know. Easy, for us alphas. We just wear our boring suits.”

“I’d prefer a boring suit,” Carlos said.

“I know,” Oscar had said, very soft.

It was the way he said it, that made Carlos think he wasn’t imagining it. The kindness. Oscar was looking at him, waiting. It was easy to roll over and accept.

There was none of that kindness now it seemed. Oscar was choosing to be extremely particular with his already particular brand of honesty.

“No,” Oscar said again.

Carlos was no longer five, and he could no longer throw a temper and come out the other side without shame. Dimly, he was aware he was porcupining, extending his edges all sharp enough to cut.

He took a frustrated breath, ran a hand through his already mussed-up hair, from all the changing. The dress was a little long for him, but it’d do in a pinch. He could always go for the higher heels.

“Again. I don’t—Oscar. What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s no good on you,” Oscar said, already back at the rack. “We should try the Dior.”

“No need,” Carlos said. He was sore every place a body could be sore. There were only so many times he could hear, It’s no good. After the season he’d just had. “This one will do.”

“Carlos,” Oscar said, like he was gearing up for an argument.

This adamant, over a dress. Over something Carlos didn’t want to care for, but clearly cared for enough that he’d listen to someone tell him what was right and what was not. Over and over. Story of his life.

“There are better options.”

“Enough,” Carlos said, and this time, his voice shook.

Oscar whipped his head around. He caught Carlos’s expression, and then his usually placid expression—turned not very placid at all.

“Carlos,” he said, stricken.

“Don’t,” Carlos snapped, and then instantly felt like a terrible person. Oscar was just trying to help, and Carlos just couldn’t help being difficult.

Oscar took a helpless step toward him, and Carlos stumbled away, tripping on the hem of the too-long dress. He was furious to find his eyes sting.

“I’m going to. The bathroom,” he said, and then fled like a coward, even though he could hear Oscar’s frantic calling from behind him.

Crying over something like this! He looked up, felt the water well up at the bottom of his eyelid, felt the weight exceed the threshold capacity and spill over. He took a deep, deep breath, stared at himself in the mirror. Resisted the urge to call himself names. Resisted the urge to rub at his eyes, so they wouldn’t turn so noticeably red. Carlos tilted his head up, breathed and breathed.

He touched a paper towel lightly against his eyes. The walk back to the change room was stupidly mortifying. He was going to have to apologize. And he really hated doing that.

Oscar was gone, nowhere to be found. In his place, a warm, orange halter-gown. Saint-Laurent. Carlos wanted to roll his eyes, but the material was very soft to the touch, and—what the heck.

He tried it on.

It was long enough, but not long enough that it needed heels. He could wear shoes.

“You look exceptionally lovely,” Lando said.

“Why thank you.” He laughed, as Lando attempted to twirl him in a circle. Dancing would never be one of Lando’s strong points.

“No, really,” Lando said. His eyes were keen, his scent stronger than usual. “Carlos, you look incredible.”

He didn’t think he looked anything special, just comfortable. Oddly at ease in his skin. But his lips were moving faster than his brain. “Oscar picked it out.”

“What?” Lando’s voice drew up sharp. “Oscar—what?”

“He has sisters,” Carlos said weakly.

Lando frowned. “So do you.”

Uh. Right. The thought never even occurred.

“Congrats,” Carlos quickly said. “That trophy—next year it’ll be first place, huh Landito?”

The sourness he felt was cancelled out by Lando’s grin. Carlos was happy to be led, even if it was a little bumpy. Lando chatted in his ear, about everything and nothing. Gigi came around for a much more dignified dance. Fred linked an arm with him, and they skipped in zig-zag formations. Charles swayed with him, just for one dance, and Carlos could not begrudge him a bit of fondness.

Oscar kept his distance, though Carlos knew he was there by the inoffensive smell of cardamom. It burned him to know if Oscar thought this one, at last, suited him.

Good enough? Good enough for you?

He finished a dance, then another. Everyone wanted a turn. He was getting called beautiful a lot. It was a good thing he was in sensible shoes. Carlos thanked his partners, curtsied as gracefully as he could bring himself to. Then used them as opportunities to look. Over their shoulders, finally, a glimpse of Oscar’s boring suit. Deep green, a Zegna tailored to fit like second skin.

Sure. That’s so boring, Oscar.

There was something unfamiliar on Oscar’s moving, blurry face, even with the familiar, wry smile Oscar was wearing. There was something unfamiliar in Oscar’s scent too. The mellowed wisp that always came with apology, the sharp tang that preceded desire. Yearning mixed with hesitance. Right about how Carlos supposed he would be smelling himself.

All that wine, and Carlos’s nose was still acting as if it knew everything.

Oscar was going to make him wait. He was always going to be the biggest pain Carlos knew. Ever since the time they met in sparks, then held each other lengthwise apart on a couch. Carlos was learning a good deal about patience, this year. It would do him well for the seasons after.

“Well?” he said, when an arm curled gingerly around his back. Carlos allowed himself a moment of weakness, leaned in where Oscar’s scent could stroke his nose. The arm around his back tightened, almost possessively. It felt, wondrously, like an anchor in a ballroom of quicksand. “Good enough?”

“For you,” Oscar said.

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #omegaverse #carcar

192 notes · View notes