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“What’s your type?”
“I’m open.”
“Funny?”
“Yeah, you know, they’re gotta be a good laugh, right?”
“Okay.”
“Gotta look after me.”
“Turn that off,” Lando grumbles, pressing his face deeper into Oscar’s nape.
He’s answered by a low chuckle, Oscar gently patting the large hand resting on his stomach, but keeping his focus on the video playing on his phone. Turned sideways after Oscar diligently turned on the auto-rotate so the interview could take up the entire screen.
“Nah you’re cute,” he says, a smirk crooking his lips a little. “You look so shy.”
Lando grunts. He snuggles closer to Oscar, like he’s trying to merge into him, his legs interlocking in the hollow of Oscar’s.
“Are you big spoon, or little spoon?”
“I’m big.”
“Oh okay.”
“Yeah.”
“Great.”
“Sometimes small.”
“Sometimes small.”
“No, never. I’ve never tried, actually.”
“Never tried? You never tried being little spoon? What? Are you serious?”
“Nah.”
“Okay.”
“We can try.”
“You’re such a liar,” Oscar chuckles readily.
“Well it’s true, no? I am big spoon,” Lando argues, tightening his arms around Oscar’s waist and pressing his body further up against the curve of Oscar’s to prove his point.
“Humm you are,” Oscar yields. “But you’ve also tried being little spoon. I was there, remember?”
He can feel more than he can see Lando shrugging, his shoulders pushing lightly against Oscar’s shoulder blades as they go up and down.
“I panicked. Can straight guys be little spoons? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t with girls.”
“Yes they can be, dumbass,” Oscar says, rolling his eyes.
He tries to take it lightly, and ignores that Lando’s backtrack came from him being scared he might have outed himself accidently. As stupid as it would be, when he’s been using “they” consistently for the rest of that segment. And also because straight guys can be little spoons, Oscar can’t believe this guy sometimes.
“Does that mean I was the first person to big spoon you?” he asks then, pausing the video to look over his shoulder.
“Yeah I guess,” Lando replies with a frown, like it’s a weird question. Like it doesn’t make Oscar’s heart flip and eyes soften.
He may be Lando’s first man and his first boyfriend, which are significantly bigger milestones, but, somehow, being the first person to have ever big spooned Lando Norris makes his heart flutter and a smile lighten up his face.
“And you liked it,” Oscar continues, feeling his own smile tugging the corner of his lips. “Didn’t you?”
Lando groans, pressing his forehead between Oscar’s shoulder blades, where Oscar can’t see him. His breath is hot, rippling like waves on his skin, curls tickling his nape.
“”Course I did. But I like big spooning you more,” Lando mumbles.
Oscar can hear the slight pout in his voice, like a nice curl around his words in the shape of his plump lips. Lando’s arms don’t hug him tighter - they can’t possibly hug him tighter - and still, Oscar can feel the strength of Lando’s embrace sipping into his bones, warmth spreading in his chest when large hands cover the expanse of his belly and sternum.
“‘Big’ is an overstatement here,” Oscar chuckles, just to tease Lando, to pick at something that doesn’t hurt his heart but slightly scratches his ego. He knows for a fact Lando doesn’t actually mind being a bit short, or at least shorter than him. That apparently gives him a good excuse to hug Oscar by the waist and grope his ass when they’re simply kissing good morning. Or so he said.
For once, Lando doesn’t groan at Oscar’s snarky remark but throws a leg over Oscar’s thighs. The position makes him curl over his boyfriend in a more intimate way, crotch slotting against the curve of his bum, one arm sneaking under his arm to grab his shoulder.
“Never heard you complain before,” he whispers softly in his ear in a smug tone, humping Oscar’s ass playfully, soft dick weighing between his cheeks.
That makes Oscar roll his eyes, but he doesn’t tell Lando to stop. Doesn’t admit he enjoys it either to be fair.
“I didn’t mean your dick, shorty, and you know it.”
See, Oscar never had a problem spelling things out when needed be. Lando - who’s been having that problem - groans again and rolls away, leaving an intolerable cold space pressed against Oscar’s naked back.
“Whatever man,” Lando scoffs in his corner in a very dramatic, very Landoesque way.
It’s clear as crystal that he’s only pretending to be mad; it’s clear in the way he’s pouting and resolutely turning his back to Oscar.
Oscar indulges him anyway.
He rolls over as well, reversing their previous position by hugging Lando's waist and clinging to his back, making no effort to hide his smile.
“Aww did I offend you, baby?”
“Don’t baby me right now,” Lando snorts disdainfully while very much acting like the baby he is.
Oscar has to press his face in Lando’s curls to muffle his laugh, holding Lando’s body closer to his chest.
“Okay, big dick,” Oscar says, still chuckling. “But you gotta admit I’m fitting the job description of ‘big spoon’ slightly better than you,” he continues more gently, using the whole length and width of his body to engulf Lando’s frame.
Lando looks over his shoulder then, one unimpressed eyebrow raised nonchalantly.
“You literally love being little spoon,” he states like they’re not discussing Lando’s spoon tendencies right now but Oscar’s. Although they do come hand in hand.
“I do ‘cause it’s you,” Oscar replies, nuzzling his neck gently.
He places a kiss in the hollow of his nape, pressing his nose at the limit of his fade, where he smells of shampoo and lye.
“‘Cause you’re warm.” Another kiss. “And safe.” Two kisses. “And you hug me just right.”
“Hmmm. So you admit it? I’m a good big spoon?”
“Well. You’re a spoon, that’s for sure,” Oscar mumbles, dropping a sweet peck on Lando’s lips.
“Tell me I’m a good big spoon,” he requires, voice stern, pulling away so Oscar can’t kiss him again.
“You’re a veeeery good big spoon, Lando” Oscar chuckles, kissing Lando’s nape one last time before falling back on the bed.
One arm under his head for support, he holds his phone above his face, resuming the video, while a clingy, pouty Lando settles on top of him, half-lying on his chest, one leg over his, face safely tucked in the crook of his neck.
“You may not have come first in anything yet but you are the first F1 driver to go on a date with me.”
“Aww. That’s cute.”
“You did well,” Oscar praises lightly, trailing his fingers alongside Lando’s spine, featherlike. “I would die if I had to go on one of those chicken dates. Hope the team won’t force me.”
“Chicken shop dates,” Lando corrects lazily, voice muffled. “T’was alright, to be honest. Amelia is cool and it’s not that awkward when you’re filming it. It’s just… editing and stuff. I knew the questions she was gonna ask.”
“Hmmm. You’re so cute…” he sighs, overwhelmed by a wave of fondness as he watches Lando shyly returning Amelia’s energy.
“I wouldn’t want you to go.”
Oscar frowns, looking down at the curly head resting under his chin.
“What?”
“I wouldn’t want you to go on a date with her,” Lando says a bit louder, although he’s keeping his face down.
“Lando, that’s literally fake.”
Then Lando raises up, supporting himself with one hand to look Oscar in the eye, an unusual serious look on his face.
“I don’t want people to see how adorable you are when you’re being wined and dined.”
A burst of laughter escapes Oscar, the boy shaking his head and reporting his attention to the video, rewinding it by twenty seconds to watch the end again.
“That’s hardly wined and dined, mate,” he scoffs. “You’re being… chickened and roasted.”
“I literally seduced you with less than that.”
Oscar tilts his head to the side, raising one eyebrow.
“Are you calling me easy, Norris?”
“You are. You sucked me off right after I tol-MMMFH”
Oscar might have dainty hands but they’re still big enough to shut Lando up when he’s being insufferable, palm covering his smart mouth just fine.
“Don’t finish that,” he threatens casually.
The green eyes sparkle with so much mischief and fondness Oscar has to take off his hand, running it into Lando’s curls instead.
“I must have been a good laugh, though.”
Lando scrunches his face in confusion, to which Oscar responds by wiggling his phone where the interview is coming to an end.
“You said they had to be a good laugh.”
“You laugh at everything I say.”
“That’s your definition?” Oscar asks in disbelief. “Not someone funny, just someone to laugh at your stupid jokes?”
“I also said they had to look after me!” Lando says to change topics.
“Well? Do I?” Oscar challenges him.
Lando’s face softens and he leans down, gracing Oscar’s lips with a tender kiss.
“Guess you do, huh.”
Oscar drops the phone and grabs him by the nape, clashing their mouths together in a searing, breathy kiss that sends hot waves recoiling through their bodies, like ocean crashing on sand.
They fall into it quietly, naturally. Oscar’s hands sneaking under Lando’s hoodie, Lando’s hands inside Oscar’s shorts. They kiss until their breaths turn into pants and moans, lips slick and hot and twisting into smiles and winces. Two of their hands interlock, pinned to the mattress, thick fingers weaving with dainty ones. Lando stays on top, pushing with his hips, bringing them both to the edge, Oscar bringing him closer with his legs, his arm, his voice. They come and tremble in each other’s arms for a long moment, soothing each other with quiet words, lips finding purpose by drawing shapes of love into skin.
Once they’ve cleaned up and turned off the light, they climb under the cover, cuddling like they usually do.
Wich means with Lando’s bare chest pressed up against Oscar’s broad back.
“Big spoon,” Lando simply states, too smug for his own good, kissing along Oscar’s exposed shoulder.
“You’re a teaspoon at best, mate,” Oscar laughs, still snuggling back into Lando’s warm embrace. “A big teaspoon.”
“Hmmm I can live with that. You’re my lil tablespoon.”
“Aye. Let’s go with that.”