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It’s rare that Lando awoke to silence.
Well, as silent a flat in the middle of London can be. But there’s no crying in the air of a distressed toddler, a lack of little feet nearing his bedroom. That was unusual.
There’s not been a night, since the switch from a crib in his room to her own bedroom, where Paddy hadn’t sneaked into his bed. And a little body had curled into his side. To that part of Lando, that wanted to smother his little girl at all times, that wasn’t a problem. Still, he went against his fatherly instincts every evening and tucked her into her own big girl bed.
So you see, he tried. Lando had tried to be a somewhat responsible parent for the past three years. And if you were to ask his mum or even Max, you would not hear about a single thing that Lando could or had ever done wrong. And over the course of the past years, many grabby hands and whispered daddys, Lando had started to believe that he was indeed a good father.
So what was he, as a good reliable parent, still doing in bed. When there was no obvious trace of his daughter. Panic seeped through his initial sleepiness and harshly tugged at the veils of drowsiness.
Padme.
A glance at the digital clock on his nightstand (yes, he was twenty four years old and still couldn’t read an analogue one) told him that it was already past nine. God knows that not even with his passed down sleep habits, Paddy would ever lay in until this late. So, if she was most likely awake but not in his bed or loudly causing mischief in her room, where was his little whirlwind?
Lando forced himself out of the warm cocoon that his multiple blankets had created. Londons nights got incredibly cold in January. His skin tingled at the sudden cold, the plaid pyjama pants had ridden up to his middle calf. Lando shivered. His socked feet, still Christmas themed that much being said, touched down on the surprisingly warm wooden floor. He was once again grateful, for the high living standards he could afford.
For one split second his traitorous mind lingered on the warmth and softness of his bed, then the concern for his little girl reentered his focus.
Because even if Padme was in her room, such lack of noise poised Lando to think of possible reasons for her unusual silence. Illness perhaps or worst case scenario, she had injured herself. Lando remembered a day, about one year ago, where he’d awakened to the same sullen stillness. Back then, he’d found his daughter in her bed. With a runny nose and a forehead, hot like a stove. She had battled with the cold for days.
So excuse his sudden worries, but Lando did not have the best memories of days that started like this.
He almost slipped on the hard wood floor due to the pace he had picked up. And the fuzzy socks weren’t exactly unlike a safety hazard but oh well. Paddy’s door was cracked open. A state that almost always occurred when it came to his daughters door, out of reassurance. Reassurance for her, that daddy was always near and reassurance for him that he could notice even the slightest uneasiness. Or the ugly but realistic reason, to be able to prevent her from chocking on her pillow. (A possibility that had haunted his early days as a father.)
Lando glanced into the toddlers room. It was faintly lit by the star shaped fairy lights above her bed frame. Her duvet, with the colorful ladybugs decorating the cotton, was flat against the mattress. It didn’t keep a small body warm, Paddy was not in her room.
He let his slightly damp forehead, the distress had made him sweat, fall again the cool doorframe. A sigh escaped him. One of those sighs that singularly serve the purpose of sorting out one’s mind. Had his daughter entered a new phase of her life? A phase in which she starts her days at six in the morning? No, that was something only teenage boys went through. And Lando was pretty sure that Padme did not strive to become a successful alpha male at three years old.
A faint giggle made Lando‘s body unfreeze from its unergonomic position (read: slumped against the doorframe, half asleep and panicking). He knew that high pitched chuckle all too well. After all it was not only a sample of his own but also a sound that easily registered as one of his favourites. Lando channeled his inner compass and tried to decipher where the noise was coming from. The kitchen.
Shit.
What was his three year old doing in the kitchen? Alone. At nine in the morning. Lando immediately turned his body around and made his way, still a bit sluggishly, to the kitchen. Though now he was getting more and more alert, because a kitchen was a dangerous place for a toddler.
The soft hallway rug tickled Lando’s ankles, a detail that grounded him for the lasting moment. The stairs carried him down to the first floor of the spacious apartment. Deep vibrations interlined with the innocent squeals and backed them up like the duo of a bass thumping alongside its electric guitar. What was all the noise about?
The young father was not just drowning in confusion but also incredibly displaced in his own four walls. His disoriented mind led his body without any consideration of obstacles. So as he rounded the corner, leading to the living room’s arch entry, Lando stumbled. Badly. Before he could mindlessly start apologising to the misplaced item in his way though, it moved. It being, as closer inspection made clear, a big lazy ball of furr that had been curled up on Padme’s winter boots.
„Sorry, big boss.“ Lando apologetically stroked Domino’s chin, as if he wouldn’t later complain about her black furr being all over the miniature uggs. It earned him an unimpressed glance, accompanied by an offended meow.
Leaving the fluffy feline behind, he continued his search party, much to her disappointment. Domino was in the process of toeing around his pyjama clad legs and clearly starting to enjoy the attention, when the curly haired promptly stood up again.
Because there it was, again. That low hiss, Paddy’s giggle and the undefined but steady sound.
Back on course, Lando steered through the archway. Right on cue, in sync with his entrance into the sunbathed room, a screech cut through the short lived silence. „Daddy—“ His neck let out an embarrassing crack at how fast Lando snapped his attention towards the open plan kitchen.
There.
Behind the cluttered kitchen island, was Padme. To the curly haired‘s utter shock, the little girl wasn’t on her own at all. No, his daughter was perched on somebody's hip.
Actually, it wasn't just somebody. Paddy was being fiercely held by a strong arm, her face fatiguedly pressed against her human-stepstool. The strong arm (no, Lando absolutely didn't get distracted by the stretched fabric over the not-so-inconspicuously toned biceps) though, had a person attached to it.
A person, which upon distinguishing made Lando's heart thump.
Because standing there in his kitchen, with his daughter casually perched on one hip, one hand flipping pancakes in the sizzling pan while the other smoothed gently through the toddler's bed head, was Oscar.
Precise, controlled head of surgery. Ambitious, therefore visually rewarding, gym rat. Steady and reliable Dr. Piastri.
His boyfriend.
Right. Lando had a boyfriend. One that was holding his daughter like she was his own and making him pancakes.
He, he, had a boyfriend. One that looked like a Greek god (if he was from Australia), cooked like a Michelin chef and was the prime example of a gentleman. That sounded almost unbelievable. A man like Oscar to be dating someone like him. A single father, who struggled with parental problems as well as being childish himself.
Childish, as the few man he’d met via Tinder before Oscar had told him, because in their opinion software engineering was just big boy video gaming. But Oscar hadn’t thought so. He’d praised and admired Lando for juggling a job and raising a child. (Lando had decided he was going to marry that man, then and there.) Still, the fact that this handsome man was entirely infatuated with him and his sunny daughter seemed unreal. Sheer unbelievable at times.
So excuse Lando for having forgotten for a second that his perfect boyfriend existed.
That Oscar existed and was in his and Paddy’s home, fitting into the four walls like the rhythm to their composition. He had become the rock Lando could lean on if things went wrong. He forced Lando into bed and cooked him an actual meal, when project deadlines unexpectedly crept closer. More crucially for the single parent, was however the fact that Oscar also became his daughter’s rock.
Remembering the day when the young father had introduced his daughter and boyfriend for the first time, Lando inwardly smiled. He had been terrified. He couldn’t fathom being with someone that his baby girl didn’t get along with, so he’d hoped for a somewhat positive outcome. He’d also hoped that Oscar wouldn’t change his mind last minute because he would be dating someone who already was a parent
But upon the first meeting, all of Lando‘s worries immediately dispersed. Paddy, one and a half at the time, had been all gummy smiles and big eyes. Oscar stood no chance. Though his daughter had taken an interest as well, letting the unfamiliar strong arms hold her without any tears being spilt.
Oh, how far they’ve gotten.
From occasional planned dates, with and without the baby, to a booster seat in Oscar‘s Porsche. From Padme perking up at hearing Oscar’s name to her calling him Papa for the first time. From Oscar‘s hoodies finding a place in Lando‘s wardrobe to assembling a walk-in closet to hold both their clothes.
Yeah, they really had become a little family.
And Lando, while watching the scene unfold in front of him, felt many things at once. Almost too many. To avoid tearing up and breaking the domestic moment, he quickly rounded the kitchen island.
A cup of coffee stood, on a star shaped coaster, barely steaming next to a plate which was continually getting stacked with pancakes. He pressed himself into Oscar’s other side (because how dare his daughter hog his boyfriend) and sighed.
This time contentedly.
He felt the Aussie hum an off-key Christmas song and, since Oscar had Paddy secure in his hold, let himself close his eyes for a second.
A faint beep told Lando that the stove had been switched off and at the resulting arm encircling his waist, his eyes snapped open again. Oscar was grinning at him, eyes shining with love. (A look he was always teased for by Lando‘s friends.)
The sight of his boyfriend in the morning was one the Brit would never get tired of. Bedhead parting in the middle, falling in soft waves. Navy sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soft grey T-shirt clung to his upper body. Lando hated how good he looked, how well he fit into their life. This had to be a dream.
But Definitely-not-Dream-Oscar pulled Lando even closer, against his warm body.
Pressing his face against his boyfriend’s defined chest, the curly haired took a deep breath.
Oscar carried many scents, he smelled faintly of their laundry detergent, his pomegranate body wash, Lando‘s papaya curl cream and even Padme‘s bubble bath. He smelled like home. That alone made Lando want to live this moment forever. But Oscar had to break the silence with a perfectly logical proposition, like the responsible adult he was.
„Paddy, baby,“ Lando‘s knees almost gave out, after one and a half years, he still wasn’t used to the endearment and the gentle tone Oscar used for their girl. „Do you want to eat here today, while Daddy and I make some food for him?“ He was referring to the high chair at the kitchen island. The little girl tilted her head back, pouting up at Oscar, from her place in his arms.
Lando almost wanted to interfere and encourage her to choose. But then Oscar leaned down to kiss her cheek, making her giggle. „Huh, what do you think?“ He kissed her other cheek and Paddy nodded softly against Oscar.
To say Lando was positively affected by this short interaction would be a vast understatement. It was possibly the purest thing he’d ever seen.
His state of awe was abruptly interrupted by Oscar’s arm leaving his waist. (How dare he?!) Lando would have started whining about the tragic loss if the reason was anything other than the one occurring. Because Oscar rounded the island to help Paddy in her chair, plated her pancakes and set a small cup of hot chocolate next to her.
His boyfriend rejoined him in the blink of an eye, this time slotting himself across Lando‘s back entirely, hugging him from behind. „Good morning, Lan.“ Oscar‘s voice was low against his ear. „sorry that I didn‘t wake you but you looked so pretty, all cuddled up in the pillows and Paddy was really hungry. So, uh yeah, here we are.“
Lando let out a breathy chuckle at his boyfriend‘s retelling of their morning and turned to face him. „Love, its fine. Think I slept a little too good, actually, woke up a bit confused.“ Oscar frowned. Right, don’t tell a neurosurgeon something about your brain being weird. He let his hands wander up the brunette‘s torso in soothing motions.
Thankfully he didn‘t have to explain because Paddy interrupted their conversation. „Daddy.“ Lando turned to her, expecting anything really to leave her unpredictable mouth. But never would he have guessed for his daughter to ask that. „Why don’t you like Papa anymore?“
His heart stopped for a second. „…..what?“ Lando‘s eyebrows connected with the curls decorating his forehead.
He felt Oscar‘s head thump between his shoulder blades, the warm body behind him shaking with silent laughter. Lando narrowed his eyes at his daughter, who sat across from them. Fork accusingly raised at him, jam dripping from her pancake.
„What do you mean, Padme?“, Lando was trying to be gentle with her. And yes, the government name felt essential. She raised one of her eyebrows, damn George for teaching her that, and laid the sass on thick. (Not all the qualities, inherited from him, where always beneficial.) „You have to give him a kiss.“
Oscar wheezed behind him, shaking against Lando. Only slightly calming down as the Brit kicked against his shin. „Yeah babe, give me a kiss.“, Oscar chuckled through the plead.
While his boyfriend was laughing at him, his daughter stared at him with all the seriousness in the world. As if she was daring him to do it or else Oscar was going to die and it would be Lando‘s fault. So, he rolled his eyes but turned around. Yanked Oscar down by the collar of his cotton T-shirt, enjoyed the way his boyfriend‘s pupils blew and planted a kiss square on the others lips. Just for show.
But Oscar didn‘t do anything for show. So, when Lando pulled away, one hand found his nape, the other his waist. He was pulled flush against his boyfriend, who was leaning in again. This time connecting their lips in a, much more intense and way less pretend, kiss. Gentle lips on his own, then Oscar smiled into the kiss and it was perfect.
As he pulled away, Lando was wrapped in both of Oscar’s strong arms. A tiny giggle ripped him out of their moment. Oscar‘s eyes were already on the little girl on the other side of the island. Paddy was clutching her cup of hot chocolate with both of her tiny hands, a smile stretching from cheek to cheek.
„Was that good enough for you, little miss?“, Oscar raised both of his eyebrows at her. She giggled again and nodded enthusiastically, almost spilling her chocolate in the process. „It might habe been good enough for her, but I think I might need some convincing.“
Lando felt Oscar‘s hold tighten at his words.