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Oscar remembered the moment he fell in love with Lando with a kind of clarity normally reserved for his most intense moments on track. Those moments when he held his breath as his life hung in the balance of the speed of his car and grip of his tyres. When compared to life defined by extraordinary speeds, ordinary life seemed to pass at a much more relaxed pace, and the need to cement specific seconds into his memory faded as he stepped out of the car. 

But with Lando it was different, as things often were. By the time he was but a few months into his Formula 1 career, he could recall small details about Lando with an accuracy that startled even himself. He could replay moments with Lando like a movie on the back of his eyelids: his laugh, his smile, his eyes. All of it was painstakingly taken down and filed away into the part of his brain reserved for only the most important of things. What surprised Oscar was just how quickly Lando became number one among those memories. The moment it shifted was innocent enough on its own. 

The only thing that actually happened was Lando playing with Penelope. 

They were stopped in the paddock next to Redbull hospitality, waiting as Max finished packing up his things after the practice sessions that day. Oscar fell into light conversation with Kelly as they both watched Lando and P running around the potted plants and furniture set up in front of the weekend building. Oscar was just telling her about his last trip back to Australia when Lando swept P up into his arms, lifting her up high as she squealed and giggled in delight. 

To everyone else, it was just any other moment on a normal Friday afternoon. To those near enough to take notice of the group outside Redbull hospitality, it was simply a tender moment between Lando and Penelope. For Oscar, it was an epiphany. He could drag neither his eyes nor his mind away from the vision of Lando—bright smile splitting his face in two—holding a small child up in his arms with delight and ease in equal measure. 

Now, Oscar was many things. He had garnered a reputation within the sphere of Formula 1 for his calm, reserved demeanor as well as his dry humor. An additional attribute Oscar considered himself to possess was incredible self-awareness, and because of it, he had long since accepted the fact that he had a slight crush on his teammate. But he also considered himself emotionally regulated, and had filed those feelings away to a part of his brain reserved for private moments of unrestrained pining and the occasional late-night dream. It was only a crush. He wasn’t in love with him or anything.

But Friday afternoon outside of Red Bull hospitality with the sun shining down on the asphalt and the quiet sounds of busy mechanics in the background, something deep and fundamental shifted inside of Oscar. Like a damn breaking, urges that had laid stagnant beneath the sheen of a small crush rushed forward. He wanted Lando—needed him like the air he was no longer breathing as his lungs got caught on his heartstrings. He was suddenly so recklessly desperate for the man and the imagined life they could have together. His “little crush” bloomed into a much more powerful force that both consumed and terrified him far beyond anything he’d experienced before. 

“Oscar?” Kelly politely asked and he realized he had abruptly stopped talking. 

“Sorry,” Oscar stuttered and though he tried to drag his eyes from where they were glued to Lando swinging Penelope up with his arms over and over, he was embarrassingly unable. He felt the heat flushing his cheeks as he realized the “heart eyes” comments were probably more correct than he’d care to admit, though at this point he might as well call it “please let me build a life with you eyes”. 

Kelly chuckled softly. “That’s what got me with Max, you know.” 

Oscar was finally able to tear his gaze from Lando, though he could still see the image burned onto the back of his eyelids whenever he blinked. “I’m sorry?” He asked, unsure of what she meant. 

“How he was with Penelope, and just children in general.” She smiled knowingly at him and Oscar dreaded the implications of that look. “I don’t know where it comes from within him, it’s certainly not a skill learned through example, I can tell you that much.” She looked back at her daughter, now having convinced Lando to sit on the baking asphalt of the paddock so she could play with his curls, pulling butterfly clips from her own head to place delicately on his. “There’s nothing more attractive than a man that’s good with kids, right?” 

Oscar spluttered over several words that all began a sentence he had no idea of how to finish. A thousand thoughts rushed through the straight of his mind, DRS enabled, and he could put words to none of them. 

“It’s alright, Oscar,” Kelly reassured him, a kind smile softening her gaze as she turned back to him, a hand gestured towards Lando and P. “You picked a good one.” 

Oscar opened his mouth to say something—literally anything—that might salvage his facade or at least his pride, but nothing came out and Max joined them before Oscar could recover his ability to speak.

Ever since that moment, Oscar had been going insane over Lando. Anything he did—said—his existence—played on a loop in Oscar’s mind. Especially with kids. 

Oscar had figured out what, specifically, the source of these feelings stemmed from. He had observed Lando get pictures with countless kids, talk to them so softly, offer a hug or to sign something for them, and hold a baby for a photo shoot at the MTC. All sent his mind reeling with fantasies of a family built by the two of them. It wasn’t exactly Lando with kids that got to him, he had never felt particularly strongly about wanting kids of his own. He imagined it would be nice when he got older, when he found someone to build that life with. It was, instead, how happy Lando was with the kids that made his heart flutter and his mind stutter. A singular thought played on a loop as he watched Lando tenderly interact with a toddler. 

I want to give you a child, Lando.

It was stupid, really. The thought of giving Lando a kid, like it was a piece of jewelry that he could go out and buy and Lando could put on his finger, but it persisted in his mind. 

All the more persistent when he found out just how much Lando wanted a kid of his own. 

Oscar’s sisters had tried to explain “baby fever” to him on numerous occasions, but he had never really understood. Sure, he thought kids were cute and he certainly wasn’t opposed to having his own someday, to care for, love, and raise, but he had thought the concept of “baby fever” was purely a female phenomenon. Hormones and all that.

Until Lando had expressed to him in a moment of intense vulnerability just how much he wished he had a child of his own. 

“You don’t get it, Osc,” Lando sighed. He had just come back to Oscar’s driver’s room after a PR event involving several small children, lots of hugs, and endless laughter. “It’s so unbearable that I start to consider kidnapping.” He fell face down on the massage bed and groaned into the cushion. 

“That bad?” Oscar chuckled as Lando nodded his head, another groan muffled by the table. 

Lando turned to look at Oscar, a devious smirk playing upon his lips. “Think I could get away with it?” 

That sent Oscar into a fit of giggles, which seemed to cheer Lando at least a little. “Not a chance, Mate.” 

Lando fake pouted at him, but sat up on his massage bed and motioned for Oscar to sit next to him. He did as Lando wished and basked in the comfortable silence for a minute just staring at their feet dangling beneath them, trying desperately to ignore the static buzz he felt whenever his skin was centimeters away from Lando’s. 

“I don’t know why I want it so badly,” Lando practically whispered, his voice thick with emotion Oscar couldn’t place. 

“If it means anything,” Oscar began, glancing at the man he was madly in love with at his side, “I think you’d make a great parent.”

Lando turned towards him, eyes wide. Oscar was briefly worried he’d somehow offended him when a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and tears pooled along his bottom lashes. A soft sob crawled out of his throat before he was throwing his arms around Oscar’s neck and burying his head in Oscar’s collarbone. 

It took Oscar a second to register what was happening, heart coming to a halting stop at the feeling of Lando pressed against him. When his thoughts came back to him, he wasted no time in sliding his arms around Lando’s waist and pulling him closer. 

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” Lando cried into his shoulder. 

But Oscar thought he might. 

I want to give you a child, Lando. Would you let me? If I could?

Things only got worse once Oscar finally worked up the courage to confess to Lando and they began their relationship. (Credits to Alex for bullying him until he actually did it). The idea of having a child of their own only became all the more possible with them together and Lando’s desperation only seemed to increase overtime. 

Anytime Lando interacted with a kid always turned into Oscar finding a secluded corner of the paddock to hold Lando in his arms as he cried. 

“I feel so stupid,” Lando always said, wiping tears from his face. 

“It’s not stupid, Love,” Oscar always replied, cradling his face tenderly and planting a soft kiss to his forehead. 

I’m going to find a way, Lan. I’ll give you a child. I promise. 

Oscar would always catch Lando watching Nico with his daughter, Toto and his son, or Max and Penelope with that oh so familiar look of longing on his face, a foundational need that had yet to be met. A purpose that hadn’t been fulfilled. 

Oscar would come up to the back of him every time, hand slipping around his waist, a gentle kiss pressed to his temple. 

“It’s not fair,” Lando would whisper, eyes never leaving whatever parent-child unit they had found to envy this time. “Why do they get what I want so badly?” 

“Give it time, Love,” Oscar would say. “We’ll figure something out, yeah?” 

The first opportunity, Lando, I swear. I’ll find a way to give you a child. 

It was when Max announced to the drivers that Kelly was pregnant at the end-of-year driver’s dinner that Lando had his first real breakdown. Oscar felt Lando’s hand squeeze his arm under the table, nails digging into his skin as he offered his congratulations to Max. His voice wavered dangerously over the words and Oscar quickly found an excuse for them both to make a hasty exit. Though he made a valiant effort, Lando was unable to hold himself together until they made it back to the hotel and Oscar pulled over into an empty parking lot to comfort him. 

“I’m the worst person ever,” he cried, face covered by his hands. “I can’t even be happy for Max like a normal fucking person.” 

“Shh, Lando, please. None of that.” Oscar’s voice was tender and gentle as were his hands as he peeled Lando’s own from his face. He knelt outside the passenger side door where Lando was sitting sideways. The grit from the asphalt dug into his knees, but he hardly noticed anything but the red rim of Lando’s eyes and the shine of tear tracks down his cheeks. “You’re not a bad person. It’s okay to feel this way, Baby. I promise.” 

Lando’s eyes drifted to his lap where Oscar clutched his hands tightly. “I still feel so stupid and emotional.” 

“Love, it’s okay to feel sad about it. I love how much you care about this, and I promise our time will come.” 

“Lando’s eyes drifted back up to meet Oscar’s. “I’m so tired of waiting, Oscar,” he whispered. “I want the time to be now.” 

Oscar had gone over everything thousands of times over in the nights where he couldn’t sleep, Lando passed out on his chest or curled into his side. As much as he so desperately wanted to give him that family, that opportunity, between their careers and the nature of their lives, it didn’t feel possible.

But when Lando looked at him like that…

He would stop at nothing to grant him that desire. 

“Let’s research adoption, Lan.” 

Lando’s eyes widened in shock, like he hadn’t already been casually looking up the details of adopting a child for months, Oscar often waking up at night to see Lando scrolling endless articles on parenting. 

“Officially. Seriously. Let’s do research on what we need to do and start doing those things,” Oscar said, voice firm, hand reaching out to cup Lando’s jaw.

A tear slipped from the corner of Lando’s eye as he leaned into the warmth of his hand. “I don’t want to be like that to you,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for me before we’re ready.” 

Oscar kissed him, sure but gentle. “Baby, I would do anything for you. Willingly.”

Lando began researching adoption with a passion. He even called a few places, talked with multiple advisors, lawyers, and specialists. 

It usually ended the same: Lando in Oscar’s arms as they lay in bed, stray tears sliding down his cheeks as he told Oscar the same conclusions he had found many times before. 

“They want you to be married, really,” he told Oscar. “And we would certainly have to be, given our careers.” 

Oscar hummed softly, running his hand up and down Lando’s back. He knew, of course, he had been researching everything there was to know about adoption as well. 

“One of the people I talked to on the phone today told me it would be harder for me and you, even if we were married.” Lando’s voice was barely audible as he said it, like maybe he didn’t want to put those thoughts out into the real world at all. 

“How come?” Oscar had an idea of why, but he still wanted to hear Lando tell him. 

“She said that adoption centers usually like there to be a mother, especially when adopting young children.” Fresh tears must have sprung from Lando’s eyes as Oscar felt a new wetness against his collarbone. 

Lando pulled back a little and Oscar looked down at him, the soft glow from streetlights below their apartment coming in through the window and casting light on his face. He was right, Lando’s eyes were awash with newfound sorrows and Oscar wanted nothing more than to ease them all away. 

“I could be a good mother.” 

Oscar stopped breathing at the words. Words that carried the weight of every burdening desire buried deep in his lover’s chest. 

“Oh, My love,” Oscar said, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, then the other. He finished off by a tender kiss to his lips. “The best.” 

Lando closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss Oscar again. Oscar tightened his hold on Lando and didn’t let go all through the night. 

I’ll give you a child, My love. If I do nothing else in this world but to give you a child of your own, my life will be fulfilled. 

That was how Oscar found himself in one of Monaco’s finest jewelry stores early one morning searching for a ring. 

He had never been more sure of anything in his life.

He and Lando had only been dating for a little over a year, which was rather short compared to many other couples on the grid, but he still felt like this was the right time regardless. 

In the back of his mind, he wasn’t just getting Lando a ring, he was giving him a child, or at least a path for them to have one of their own. It was a promise of marriage and so much more.

Once the little box was in his hand he practically sprinted back to their apartment. Lando was in the kitchen, the delicious smell of coffee wafting through the entire flat. 

“Oscar, I called the adoption place again this morning to ask about some of the specifics,” Lando called out as he heard Oscar enter the apartment. “They said the same thing about marriage as last time. That for us, with our lives and careers, it would be better if we were married.” 

Oscar rounded the corner into the kitchen, where Lando had his back to him washing dishes. A simple breakfast was laid out on the table with a steaming cup of coffee for Oscar. 

“How was your run, Love?” Lando asked as Oscar hugged him from behind, planting a soft kiss to the back of Lando’s neck and another quick peck just behind his ear. 

“Good,” Oscar said, taking a step back and pulling out the little box. 

He kneeled down right there on the kitchen floor, holding out the opened box that he had bought not thirty minutes ago. He had never been more sure of anything before. 

“You don’t smell that bad,” Lando said, putting the last dish to dry on the mat and turning around. 

Oscar stopped breathing as Lando froze. His face contorted into something that resembled pain, but Oscar knew better. 

“Lando Norris—” was all Oscar got out before Lando slammed into him on the floor, wrapping his arms around Oscar’s midsection and burying his head in Oscar’s side. He was sobbing and shaking, and Oscar rested his arms on his back and pressed tender kisses into his curls, ring placed somewhere off to the side.

I want to give you a baby, Love. Will you let me?

“Yes,” Lando choked out, somehow, between racking sobs. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Oscar took his fiancés face in his hands and lifted his eyes up to meet his. He pressed a salty kiss to Lando’s lips, but it was all sweetness to him. “We can have a baby, yeah? A family.” He told Lando softly, between gentle kisses. 

“When are we getting married?” Lando giggled and it was the best thing Oscar had ever heard. 

“Baby, we can go and get married tomorrow for all I care,” Oscar said, running a hand through Lando’s curls. 

Lando smiled. “But what about our families and friends?” 

“We can go and sign the papers tomorrow and plan the ceremony some time next year if you want. It doesn’t matter to me if we do things a little backwards.” Oscar smiled as Lando did, pulling him into another gentle kiss. 

“Thank you,” Lando whispered, placing his arms around Oscar’s neck and playing with the short cropped hairs there. 

“Let’s call them back, yeah?”