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If someone would have told Lando a couple of years ago that he would be standing on the Monaco Grand Prix podium at the young age of 21, alongside his former teammate, a trophy in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other, celebrating third fucking place, he would have called that person 100% delusional and crazy.
But this is actually happening. He’s not dreaming. He’s getting sprayed with stupid Ferrari champagne by Max and Carlos, trying to protect his eyes that are already burning from the alcohol ( and the tears that have been threatening to spill ever since he crossed that finish line) and he’s never felt this happy before. This is the best day of his life, by far. His body is bursting with adrenaline, still not fully recovered from one of the most nerve wrecking races of his life. He did this, together with the best team he could’ve asked for. Monaco podium baby!
The rest of the day is a blur, filled with interviews and autographs and people everywhere . One second he’s posing for pictures with the prince of Monaco and the next he’s being pulled into a familiar pair of arms, enveloped with the scent of champagne, sweat and just CarlosCarlosCarlos .
‘ I’m so proud of you, muppet.’ The Spaniard breathes in his ear, pulling Lando even closer. Before Lando even gets a chance to reply (or enjoy the sensation of being this close again to Carlos), Carlos is already being dragged away somewhere else.
I’m so proud of you, muppet
Best day ever.
.
It’s only during debrief that he gets a chance to finally breathe and let everything settle in. Daniel is already in his seat when he enters the room, headphones on and analyzing the footage from the race with a visible frown on his face. The smile he gives Lando when he notices him doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Lando squeezes his shoulder before taking the seat over him. Lando knows he’s struggling, but he also knows that Daniel is still one of the best drivers out there, and it won’t be long before they’ll be battling on track again. There’s a comfortable silence between them as Lando settles, waiting for the other team members to start the debrief.
He can’t help but think about how different last year was, how he would have been greeted by an overly enthusiastic Landooooo in a thick Spanish accent (his favourite accent) and a bone crushing hug because Carlos never learned the concept of personal space.
Truth is, Daniel and him are still getting to know each other, and Lando won't deny that the immense pressure they get from the press and the fans to be the new best duo in F1 isn’t helping. Constantly getting questions about comparing his current teammate with his former is starting to work on his nerves because to him, what he shares with Carlos is just incomparable to anything else.
He also won’t deny that it still stings when he enters the Mclaren building and there’s no physical presence of Carlos. No more stupid Youtube challenges that mostly resulted in tears from laughter and tangled limbs, Henrik desperately trying to get them to just be fucking professional for once please . No more being corrected for his Spanish pronunciation (even though he thinks he’s quite good at it) and being forced to eat disgusting grown-up food he never under any other circumstances would eat if it wasn’t for Carlos begging him to (he would do everything Carlos asks him). No more lazing around in their driver rooms, pulling stupid pranks on eachother or taking a quick nap together before they were expected on the race track.
The moments he missed the most were those late at night, where Carlos would beat him at FIFA and they sometimes ended up falling asleep together in his hotel room after talking lazily for hours, sharing thoughts and secrets they wouldn’t share with anyone else.
Now, the only thing there’s left of Carlos at Mclaren are framed memories hanging up against the wall.
God, it still stings so fucking much. Sometimes he wonders if he will ever get used to it.
Of course, they still see each other frequently during race weekends but it’s not the same as before. It's hurried and 90% of the time they’re surrounded by cameras or other F1 drivers so all he can do is stand as close as possible without getting suspicious looks from others, while on the inside he’s just dying to touchtouchtouch and be close to Carlos again. To be like they always used to be. They didn’t even have the chance yet to meet up in private during race weekends this season. Carlos, still adjusting to his new team, being one hundred percent focused on the car and his own performance.
Lando understood ofcourse. He always admired Carlos’ dedication.
It’s difficult, and Lando knew it would be like this when he embarrassingly bursted into tears right in front of every Mclaren employee last year after their last moment of officially being each other's teammates. He had been able to stay composed throughout the whole evening, but when they decided to show a compilation video of ‘Carlando’s best moments’ he just lost it. Realization had finally dawned on him that this was it. The end. He had quietly excused himself, Carlos (as always) hot on his heels. He never was much of a crier, but he had bawled his eyes out that evening.
‘This is not the end, amigo.’ Carlos had reassured him while Lando was sobbing uncontrollably in his arms in those stupid Mclaren bathrooms. ‘ You’re not getting rid of me, ever.’ Carlos kept on repeating, whispering sweet nothings while Lando was completely ruining Carlos’ shirt with all his bodily fluids, feeling pathetic and embarrassed. He just couldn’t stop crying. It felt like every bottled up feeling from the last year had to come out.
When Lando had finally calmed down, Carlos had carefully grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up into those deep brown eyes, communicating more than words ever could (I’ll miss you too, cabron, so much) and wiped away the rest of the Brits' tears with his thumbs.
(Lando swore he saw him wiping away a couple of tears of his own later that evening).
‘We were supposed to have more months together, it’s not fair.’ Lando had mumbled into Carlos’ shoulder after, when they were laying together on Lando’s couch. Carlos had decided to spend the night at his place, directly flying out to Ferrari the day after.
One last night together.
Lando remembers that night as one of the most emotional nights he has ever had. Lando wasn’t a clingy person, didn’t really like it when other people touched him, but that night he had hung onto Carlos like a fucking koala bear. And Carlos had let him, ofcourse.
That was also the night that Lando realized that he didn’t just platonically love Carlos, he was in love with him.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels his phone vibrate for what feels like the 253532 time that day. He figures he can quickly check his messages before the debrief starts, unlocking his phone to see about a hundred messages and notifications. There was only one message that caught his attention.
Want to celebrate tonight? Like we used to
Lando quickly scans the room, hoping no one would notice the ridiculous blush creeping up on his cheeks. Not that their celebrations were anything special. It usually consisted of a movie and snacks, huddled up together in one of their hotel rooms. He was just blushing at the thought of finally spending some time alone with Carlos. Just the two of them. In one hotel room.
Your hotel or mine??
He quickly texts back, already buzzing with excitement. God, he is truly embarrassing. This didn’t mean anything. Just two former teammates finally spending some time together after five (very very long) months.
He gets an address and a room number in return.
Can’t wait, muppet
.
After a long debrief and a celebratory dinner with the Mclaren team, Lando finally finds himself in front of room number B12 with a six pack of 0.00 % beers and his heart literally beating out of his chest.
When the Spaniard opens the door after a couple of knocks, Lando gulps at the sight in front of him. Carlos looks freshly showered, his slightly damp hair covered with a Ferrari cap. He’s wearing the Quadrant hoodie that Lando gifted him for Christmas with Nike basketball shorts that show off his nicely tanned legs and Lando just wants to die. This is by far his favourite Carlos look and he’s suddenly wondering how he will survive this night.
He’s quickly pulled into a hug before the Spaniard directs him into the room.
“Come on in, amigo!” Carlos exclaims enthusiastically while taking the beers and putting them in the mini fridge.
“Ferrari seems to be treating you well.” Lando comments after scanning the room. It’s a fancy room with a huge king sized bed, decorated with luxurious cushions that look incredibly soft and probably cost a fortune. But the biggest flex of the room was definitely the huge rainshower that was put right in the middle of the room, surrounded by transparent glass.
Damn, that’s definitely...interesting.
He moves around the room awkwardly, his nerves not completely under control yet. Lando feels stupid since they were litteraly teammates for two years, sharing the same space almost 24/7 and now it feels like he doesn’t know how to act or what to say around Carlos anymore sometimes.
“You want to sit?’” Carlos seems to notice Lando’s restlessness and points in the direction of the bed. Lando nods, taking place at the edge of the bed with his knees pulled tightly together. He’s honestly so fucking awkward .
“Still can’t believe it, cabron. Us together on the podium!” The Spaniard says while sitting down next to Lando, leaving absolutely no space between them. Carlos feels warm and familiar against him and Lando can already feel his eyes watering.
God, don’t you dare fucking cry.
Lando decides to nod again because he’s having difficulties with finding words. This day has been quite overwhelming and finally being alone with Carlos after all these months makes him feel so many things at once.
“I really missed this.” Lando finally decides to speak. It’s the absolute truth. The Spaniard probably doesn’t even know how much truth there is behind his words.
Carlos’ expression goes soft at Lando’s confession, pulling Lando into a hug once more.
“Fuck, I really missed this too, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy” is mouthed against his ear and Lando wonders if there is any chance Carlos had missed him just as much. If he perhaps missed him the same way.
The Brit tightens his grip as an answer and they stay like this for what seems like forever, but still not long enough. The only sound in the room is their breathing and Lando finally feels his nerves slip away, soaking up the feeling of Carlos against him. Being in Carlos’ arms has always been his safe space.
Carlos is the first one to pull away from their embrace, keeping Lando close and stroking his cheek affectionately with his thumb, like he has done a thousand times before. Like he always does every time he thinks Lando said or did something ‘really cute’. Lando, as always, blushes and looks away.
How can he not know?
The Brit then feels soft fingers against his jaw, gently turning his face towards Carlos so their eyes meet again. Carlos’ gaze is intense and determined.
“You’re still my favourite. You know that right?” He asks, like it would offend him if Lando would think otherwise. Lando can only nod.
“It’s only a matter of time before Charles completely charmes you, like he does with every one else who ever meets him. I used to have a crush on him, you know.” He (sort of) jokes, a poor attempt to mask his own insecurity.
He’s simply stating facts. Charles is beautiful and charming and speaks French and Italian fluently,which is just freaking hot . No matter what or who you’re into, you will definitely question it after laying eyes on the Monegasque. Lando swears he even saw Max giving Charles heart eyes once.
Carlos just rolls his eyes and squeezes Lando’s shoulder before turning around and grabbing the remote from the nightstand.
“Come on, let’s watch a crappy movie!”
.
They spend the next couple of hours lounging in the bed, rewatching movies they’ve already seen together at least a dozen of times and consuming snacks that John definitely doesn’t need to know about.
It feels like the old Mclaren days again and Lando doesn’t know why he felt so nervous before. Okay, maybe things are different now that he’s realized his not so platonic feelings for his former teammate, but Carlos still feels like home. They still laugh together over stupid jokes. They still touch each other casually for no reason at all, some touches lingering a second too long. They’re still Lando and Carlos, two supposed F1 rivals who somehow became the best of friends, and Lando wishes they were so much more.
He doesn’t even realize how late it is until he starts yawning every five minutes, the adrenaline of this exhilarating day finally wearing off and his body begging for him to sleep.
He feels conflicted. A year ago, he would’ve just stayed in the bed without even questioning it, always falling asleep first and waking up the next morning with Carlos softly breathing next to him.
Lando doesn’t know if this unspoken rule between them is still standing. He also doesn’t know if he can handle sleeping next to Carlos. Beautiful, warm and soft Carlos.
“It’s getting late, I should go.” He decides then, throwing the cosy sheets of his body with the intention of getting out of the bed to retreat to the loneliness of his own hotel room and think about his questionable life choices.
He’s stopped by a persistent hand on his wrist. Lando turns to look at Carlos.
“Lando, please stay.”
“I don’t know when we’ll- when we’ll have time for this again.” Carlos adds when he sees the obvious hesitation on the younger man's face.
Is that the only reason why you want me to stay?
“Carlos, I-“
“Lando. Please.” Carlos almost begs, like he would literally die if Lando even left the bed.
Lando is standing awkwardly, one leg already out of the bed, Carlos still holding on to his wrist. His eyes flicker between the door and Carlos.
The most selfish part of him wants nothing more than to stay here, basked in the warmth of Carlos for a couple more hours before they go their separate ways again.
The other part of him also knows that he can’t handle sleeping next to Carlos, having him so close and available and just there , without being able to actually have him. It’s too much to handle.
He can’t do this.
“Carlos, I- I can’t, okay. Please just- Please let me go.”
Lando feels the tears coming and he curses himself for being so fucking emotional and in love and he wishes he could just magically transport to his hotel room or let the floor swallow him whole.
And of course, Carlos being Carlos - is on him in a matter of seconds, pulling Lando on the bed and cupping his face with his warm hands, wiping away Lando’s tears once again, like he did half a year ago at Mclaren.
Lando can feel Carlos’ breath on his lips and they’re so close, way too close.
“Please tell me what’s wrong. What did I do?”
The Brit chokes out a laugh at Carlos’ question because of course Carlos immediately thinks he did something wrong. The Spaniard frowns at Lando’s reaction, obviously not finding the situation funny at all.
You made me fall in love with you.
“Believe me Carlos, there’s absolutely nothing you could do wrong.” Lando barely manages to get out through his tears, his voice high pitched and embarrassing.
He realises then that his answer sounded like a confession. Like his own way of laying his cards out on the table, finally exposing his true feelings.
Carlos seems to think the same, as Lando sees his facial expression shift from a worried frown to pure confusion, until his eyes finally widen, like he just realised what Lando means.
Carlos knows. He knows how Lando feels and Lando waits for the pity in Carlos’ eyes. He waits for the gentle rejection that undoubtedly awaits him.
It never comes.
Instead, Carlos brings their faces closer until their lips are millimeters apart, their bodies flushed together. Lando holds his breath, he doesn’t dare to move.
“Mi amor .” The Spaniard finally breathes out after what feels like forever, their lips brushing over each other and Lando lets out an embarrassing whine at the contact before they crash against each other.
He wants this too.
Lando wastes no time and straddles Carlos, both of his legs on either side of his thighs, pushing their bodies impossibly closer. The Spaniard's full lips are warm and soft against his and Lando can’t help but let out a content sigh, giving Carlos the opportunity to press his tongue inside his mouth. This earns a moan from the Brit and the kiss turns heated quickly, frantic hands touching everywhere.
“You don’t even know how long I’ve waited for this.” Carlos confesses when they both pull away for a couple of seconds to catch their breath. He looks absolutely devoured, full plump lips red from kissing, his eyes dark and hazy and Lando can’t believe this is all for him. That he can make Carlos feel like this.
“How long?” Lando asks between kisses, his hands sliding under Carlos’ shirt, his fingers grazing over perfectly defined abs. He was already embarrassingly hard and getting to finally touch Carlos the way he had fantasized about certainly wasn’t helping his situation.
“Since my first podium in Brazil.” Carlos answers casually, pressing open mouthed kisses against his throat.
Wait, what??
Lando pulls him off, shocked.
“That’s almost two years ago! Why didn’t you say anything? This could have happened a lot sooner.” Lando says, pointing with his finger between the two of them.
Carlos lets out a laugh. “Lando. We both know you weren’t ready yet. It wouldn’t have worked. Especially not when we were still teammates.”
Lando’s brain went into overdrive, not comprehending how he could have been so oblivious to Carlos’ feelings for almost two years. He didn’t get much time to ponder over his thoughts, as Carlos went back to pressing open mouthed kisses to his throat, slightly pulling at Lando’s curls to get more access.
Lando let out a loud moan, his eyes rolling as his head tips back. He can feel Carlos’ hands grabbing his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head and attacking his exposed chest with soft kisses. He pushes Lando down until his back hits the bed and he’s hovering over him, holding up his weight with his two arms bracketing Lando’s face. Carlos had managed to lose his shirt as well somewhere in the process, their bare chests now pressed together. Lando feels like he’s going to burst, his painfully hard dick pressing into Carlos’ beautiful thigh. He was desperate for more.
Is this what heaven feels like?
“You are so beautiful Lando.” Carlos lets out after a couple of seconds of them just staring at each other, taking everything in.
Lando blushes at the praise, still not used to getting compliments about his looks. The Spaniard cups his face, gently stroking over his cheek and lips with his thumb. Lando reacts by opening his mouth, wrapping his lips around Carlos’ thumb, making the other’s breath hitch.
“Carlos,I- please.” Lando pleads, pushing his body upwards, desperate for more contact.
“What do you want, Lando?”
Carlos is still teasing him by leaving small kisses all over his chest, getting closer and closer to where Lando was aching to be touched.
“Please- just, please touch me.”
That’s all the confirmation Carlos needs, pulling Lando’s sweatpants and boxers down in one swift motion, his throbbing cock springing free.
Lando lets out a high pitched moan when he feels the other’s hands grab the base, giving it a few experimental tugs, pre-cum gathering on Lando’s stomach. At this rate he was going to last approximately 20 seconds. He was definitely not prepared to feel a pair of warm lips wrap around his head, his body automatically jerking upwards, making Carlos pull away slightly.
“God, Carlos - I’m- I’m so sorry.”
“No worries, I’ll just have to hold you down.” Carlos winks at him.
He goes back to work, pinning Lando's hip with one hand while his other hand keeps on stroking Lando’s dick, in sync with his mouth. Lando could already feel the familiar warmth building up, the pleasure of Carlos’ perfect mouth just too much to handle. He dares to look down at the scene, seeing Carlos’ beautiful head bobbing up and down on his dick, his beautiful hair falling into his face. He wants to moan at the sight. Yeah, this is not going to take long.
“Carlos, I’m-“ He tries to warn, pulling at Carlos’ hair, but Carlos keeps on sucking stubbornly, messaging that he wants Lando to come in his mouth.
Oh my god.
The thought of Carlos wanting to swallow is enough to pull Lando over the edge. He comes hard into Carlos’ mouth, the older sucking him dry before pulling off with a small ‘pop’. He sort of collapses on top of Lando, both panting.
“Best blowjob ever.” Lando decides to speak up after he decides he had enough recovery time, earning a chuckle from the Spaniard. He’s still half on top of Lando, and the younger can feel his neglected dick against his leg.
Lando decides then to take matters into his own hands and flips them around so he’s on top.
“You want some help with that?” He questions, his hand groping Carlos’ still clothed cock. The Spaniard moans, nodding his head eagerly.
Lando gets an idea then and leans closer, his lips lightly brushing Carlos’ ear.
“Maybe we can put that ridiculous shower to use?”
Fin.