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The beginning of the year had honestly been pretty shit. Almost every night Lando would stare at the ceiling wondering if the other axe would finally fall. Sure, the team was getting better, getting into the points; but the absolute humiliation from the first half of the season continued to bounce around in his head. What if the other teams got magical upgrades and McLaren was once again nothing more than a midfield team?
He knew with all the stress of the first few months that he wasn’t kind, that he wasn’t a good partner, but he just couldn’t keep positive when every debrief felt like a death sentence. Luckily, he had an ever-faithful Carlos. Carlos who would never fault him for barely finishing in the points, Carlos who would hold him when he had a bad day, Carlos who loved him at his worst.
Finally, with just a couple more races of the season to go, Lando finally felt like he was in a good spot.
Naked skin touched naked skin, and Lando was sore all over, but warm Spanish hands caressed his sides with a gentleness that he’d rarely felt before. Laying his head on Carlos’s chest gave him the perfect view of the picture of them both on the bedside table, it was from a series of pictures taken together last winter break when they were on some secluded beach in Italy. The December air was brisk, and his toes felt a little bit like they might fall off, but it was all worth it to be able to hold hands with Carlos outside. Social media had a meltdown when any driver was even associated with a girl, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the fallout if any of them were seen with a boy, let alone another driver.
“What are you thinking so hard about, cariño?”
Lando sighed into his chest, “I wish you had printed the other photo.”
The one on the nightstand was them just smiling at the camera, hands clasped together just out of frame. The one taken right after is Carlos wetly kissing his cheek while Lando squealed with laughter. In the first picture they look like friends. But in the second one, well, they look in love. The first picture they can print out, but the second picture has to remain in locked albums on their phones.
Carlos stopped caressing him, “You know why we can’t.”
Lando closed his eyes, “I know.”
Anybody could walk into Carlos’s apartment and see the picture. It was an open secret that Lando was gay, strictly into men. His family knew, the team knew, half the people on the grid knew. But Carlos. He didn’t think Carlos was out to anyone.
It was a big point of contention in their relationship. Lando was getting tired of friendly slaps on the back during race weekends and feigned ignorance at the level of their friendship when asked. At the very least, he wanted Carlos to come to his motorhome when they have those long stretches of time before and after practices. Carlos always refused, said it would be too obvious.
Lando didn’t want a fight tonight. He knew who would lose if he started it. Instead, he let his eyes fall shut. Images of him on the top step of the podium with Carlos kissing him putting him right to sleep.
There was still a festering there though. The thought of something more.
A week later he felt the same beginning of rot as they were going to bed, a few nights before the Mexican Grand Prix.
They laid in bed together, Lando's head on Carlos’ chest trying to fight dozing off by watching Carlos play phone games. His eyes were beginning to slide shut as he saw Instagram DM’s start popping up, one after the other.
“Who’s Rebecca?”
Carlos continued his scrolling, “Just a friend, don’t worry about it.”
Suddenly Lando had never felt more awake.
“Show me.”
“Landito, I promise she’s just a friend. You have nothing to worry about.”
Which he would normally believe if not for the fact that he could feel Carlos beginning to tense up underneath him.
“If I have nothing to worry about, then you won’t have any problem showing me.”
Lando propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at his boyfriend. Carlos opened the chat and handed it to Lando. He immediately scrolled to the very top and felt an abject sort of horror as he realized that Carlos was the one to send the first message: Hola bella. It was short, simple, and sent not even a month ago. As Lando continued to scroll down he saw them talking about their days, her modeling, his racing. There was nothing apparent or incriminating, but also…
“I’m not stupid.”
Carlos rubbed his arm, “I never said you were. We’re not flirting.”
Lando finally took his eyes off the screen to stare down at his boyfriend, “Then why even message her in the first place?”
“Ferrari wants me to get a girlfriend,” Carlos said easily, like it wasn’t a bomb dropping directly onto the two of them, “Just for show. PR says it will help my image. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“What, so you thought you’d just surprise me with a girlfriend one day?” Lando sat up, his voice began to rise in a way that he couldn’t seem to stop, “You already have me. Did you even think about how I would feel about this? You’ve been texting her for a month.”
Carlos sighed, “Lando you are not my girlfriend.”
And yah, as if that wasn’t the root of this whole problem.
He continued, “Of course I was going to tell you, but not like this.”
Lando released a shuddering breath. He couldn’t make this a big deal. He couldn’t make this another fight.
“Lay back down, cariño. It won’t be real, it’s just for the fans,” He pinched Lando in the side, a painful sort of amusement, “Normal girls are boring, and there’s no one like you.”
Lando didn’t say anything else, but he did hand over the phone and lay back down, but this time on his own pillow. It felt a bit like a rebellion. Lando had always been extremely tactile, loving to sleep as close to his boyfriend as he could get, and often on top of him. He loved touch, craved it even. So these couple of centimeters of space was him showing his cards. Carlos didn’t seem to notice as he plugged his phone in and near immediately fell into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile for Lando, it took forever for his heart to finally stop rabbiting. He kept looking at Carlos’s face and then to his phone on the night table. There plugged in it felt like a loaded gun waiting to go off. Unlocking it again and searching a little harder might open fire. How many other ‘friends’ were there?
The next morning after returning to his own apartment, he asked if Oscar would come over and hang out to help clear his mind. Of course, the Aussie was agreeable as ever.
“Want to come in and play FIFA?”
Oscar shook his head, “You know I am the literally worst at that game.”
“Please,” Lando pouted, “I’ve missed hanging out with you.”
“Fine.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, but the faint blush on his face gave him away.
At the beginning of the year his teammate had been a tough one to crack, he wasn’t as immediately charming as Carlos, or funny like Daniel.
For a moment he complained to Max every other day about how the pairing would never work, and their lack of teammate chemistry would lead them straight to McLaren 19-20 finishes every weekend.
But lo and behold, Lando was capable of being wrong.
At maybe their fifth race, after a grueling day of media, Lando played through levels of candy crush when he heard a knock on his door. Chances were it was Jon trying to convince him to do some dynamic stretching, something that Lando was not in the mood to do and was ready to tell that to him. He pulled open the door, ready to argue and he was greeted by distinctly not Jon.
Oscar wore his regular khaki shorts and team polo, but he had a flush from the back of his neck to his ears. This wasn’t something they did. They didn’t talk at the MTC or in the motorhome, let alone their own hotel rooms. Whatever Oscar came for might make or break the tentative teammate relationship they had going on.
His hands were behind his back holding something, something Lando immediately clocked in on.
“Um, Jon said you would be awake for a couple more hours,” Oscar looked at him and paled, “But. Um. You’re already in your pajamas. I’ll just go, yah, sorry.”
As quickly as he came the Aussie turned around to leave.
“Wait, Oscar,” Lando stopped him, “Jon was right. I just wanted to get comfy, I’m not actually going to bed anytime soon.”
Oscar turned around again and there was a bit of an awkward silence. Lando decided to be the bigger man and save them both from the situation.
“What’d you come here for?”
Oscar’s blush returned in full force. From behind his back he pulled a packet of stroopwafels and a box of Capri-Suns.
“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?” He said nervously, “I feel bad that I haven’t really gotten to know you much. I was just, um, nervous.”
What a strange night this was turning out to be. But who was he to turn down his favorite snacks, and especially when Oscar offered them so sincerely.
Lando raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “Yes?”
“Oh good. I really had to hype myself up for that one,” He said with a relieved sigh, “I thought for sure you’d tell me to get lost.”
A laugh burst out of Lando, “You had to give yourself a pep talk to talk to me?”
Oscar nodded seriously.
Lando kept giggling. Each passing second he was beginning to understand the Aussie more and more. Oscar didn’t actually hate Lando and everything about McLaren, he was just shy. It was cute.
That night they played FIFA and Lando won, of course. Once they got past the initial hurdle of actually talking to one another, something between them just clicked. They talked about racing, family, friends, and life. And before either of them knew it, it was well into the next day, and Oscar had to retreat back into his own hotel room, but not without a smile on his face and an agreement to hang out again soon.
Throughout the following weeks, the pair became borderline inseparable. If people around them didn’t know any better, they would assume they knew each other since birth. They were just on the same wavelength like that. If it didn’t sound so cringey, Lando would call Oscar his best friend.
But that was months ago, and while their friendship grew, Oscar’s FIFA skills did not.
“Oscar, you know you would have better luck if you didn’t choose Melbourne every time.”
Oscar just stared at him, “It's crazy how blatantly you just asked me to disregard my morals.”
Lando rolled his eyes and selected Manchester United knowing that the evening would go the same as it always did.
It only took six games for Oscar to throw his controller down.
“I quit.”
“Are you sure? I think you really have it in you to win the next one,” Lando tried to be serious, but failed spectacularly.
The blank stare that Oscar gave him in return made him lose it.
“You really have no problem lying straight to my face,” Oscar shook his head, pretending to be annoyed, but then his face grew serious, “When I came in you looked a little down. Is everything good or are you just tired?”
It was just like Oscar to see right through him.
Lando normally would’ve told him he was just tired, but his hesitation became too long to make it believable.
Lando sunk back into the couch, wishing it would absorb him whole, “Ferrari wants Carlos to get a PR girlfriend.”
Oscar’s eyes widened, “He told them no though, right?”
Lando closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Her name is Rebecca.”
Oscar didn’t say anything, leaving Lando the space to talk if he wanted to.
“Carlos didn’t tell me. I just saw his DM’s.”
“Oh my god, what an asshole,” Oscar said horrified.
Normally Lando would defend Carlos, but he didn’t think there was much to be said this time.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Lando finally opened his eyes, and pressed himself further into the couch, “I honestly want to forget the whole thing even happened.”
“Ok,” the Aussie immediately nodded and picked up his controller again, “I changed my mind, let’s play another round.”
And forget about it he did, at least for the rest of the night.
The week leading up to the next race he saw Carlos a few more times and they both acted like that one night in his apartment didn’t happen. It hurt Lando too much to think about it, but he couldn’t tell if Carlos even cared.
They did their normal stuff, watched movies, had sex, played games, and ordered food. Sometimes just one, something all of the above. But Lando didn’t spend the night again, and Carlos didn’t mention it.
He texted Oscar like normal, sending each other Twitter memes from their burner accounts and gossiping about the rest of the grid. It was comfortable, it was safe.
When Lando flew out to the next race weekend, the sharp sadness felt more like a gentle buzz. What he didn’t think about couldn't hurt him. He made a resolution to himself to just let it go. It wasn’t Carlos, it was Ferrari. Lando could be a good boyfriend and forgive.
Thursday morning when he walked into the paddock, he saw a familiar Spaniard in red and made his way over. Seeing him again made the forgiveness more real, this was his wonderful Carlos. The fight from weeks ago felt silly now.
“Good morning, Carlos,” Lando smiled, his arms twitched at his sides wanting to reach out.
“Good morning, cabron.”
They both just stood there and smiled at each other dumbly.
“Well, I’ll see you at press,” Lando picked at the seams of his pants, “Do you want to come over and hang out later?”
Carlos nodded, so he turned around ready to make his way to the motorhome.
“Actually,” Carlos stopped him, “I was thinking that you and I could go out for dinner after media tonight?”
Lando froze. Excitement immediately started to flood through his body.
“Of course,” He tried to sound calm, but by Carlos’ grin he knew he failed.
“I’ll text you where we’ll meet.”
And with a wink Carlos left as quickly as Lando arrived.
Media duties somehow felt like a lifetime but also mere seconds. His joy was infectious, and even the most asshole reporters were a little more fun to be around. After he was finally released from the clutches of the McLaren PR team, he finally made it back to his hotel room.
Lando could hardly contain his excitement, Carlos, his Carlos had finally asked him on a date. It seemed a little silly to be so excited after they’ve been together for nearly a year, but it just felt like Carlos was finally truly listening to his needs.
The only thing that Lando had any reservations about, was what he was possibly going to wear. He knew his boyfriend liked him in blue, said it went well with his eyes, but would he prefer plain blue or blue stripes?
Lan
osc
emergency
i need help
which shirt
[image attached]
Osco
Lando.
How the hell did you manage to find two blue shirts that are so awful?
You’ll look like you’re going bowling in the striped one.
And the other one is literally electric blue.
Your fashion sense is so good sometimes…
And other times, it’s just a disaster.
Lan
as if ur any better
ur probs wearing jeans with a drawstring right now
jetpants
sweans?
get it?
jean + sweatpants
Osco
I’ll have you know I am wearing perfectly respectable khaki shorts.
Lan
u would be
…
but srsly
i need help
desperately
Osco
I’m surprised you know how to spell that.
Lan
autocorrect bby
Osco
Did you bring the light blue linen set?
You look good in that.
Lan
omg
fashion king, first time ever
ur a lifesaver
thx sm
Osco
What’s the occasion anyways?
Lan
date w carlos
going to lunch
i’m excited
Osco
Oh.
Just be careful.
Lan
wdym?
r u not an ally
love is love osc
Osco
Lando, you literally know I like men.
I just thought you guys were super private…?
Just make sure you and him are on the same page.
I don’t want you to get hurt.
Lan
yes mom lol
but don’t worry
i’ll be home by 10 promise
and i’ll keep my purity intact
🫡
Osco
I’ve literally heard you guys fucking in your driver's room.
Lando rolled his eyes, sure, maybe that wasn’t his best moment. But he knew for a fact that Oscar had noise canceling headphones.
With two minutes to get out the door he pulled on his linen set. Looking in the mirror he smiled. Oscar really knew what he was talking about. It was comfortable and casual, and made him look good without trying too hard. God. If Carlos knew he was analyzing his outfit this much he would be relentlessly made fun of.
The restaurant Carlos chose for dinner was only a few blocks away, so with a pep in his step he made the walk over. The streets were lively with string lights overhead and music playing from every store, the people smiled at Lando but didn’t stop him. The whole night so far felt like a fairytale. How was this his life? In a beautiful city, feeling good, about to meet his wonderful boyfriend for what had to be an amazing dinner.
As he walked into the restaurant, he saw Carlos already seated and made his way over, his face almost hurt from how much he was smiling.
Carlos stood up to greet him, but when Lando leaned in for a whole hug, Carlos aborted to a friendly side hug with a friendly slap on the shoulder.
Sitting down they were on opposite edges of a square table, and Lando knew it would be a little awkward, but he really wanted to sit closer to Carlos. It felt too much like a business meeting. As a compromise to himself he laid his hand on the table, Carlos would hold it. This is what they always did when they ate dinner in one of their apartments or hotel rooms.
Carlos glanced at it, knowing exactly what Lando wanted, “Calm down, we don’t want anyone getting any ideas.”
Lando instantly deflated.
“Isn’t that what this is though?” He lowered his voice, “A date?”
Carlos’ eyes darted around before plastering a manufactured smile on his face, “It can be whatever you want it to be for you. For me, I am just getting dinner with my Landito.”
Lando felt the burning in the back of his eyes before turning to focus on the menu instead. When the server came Carlos ordered them red wine. It was a little weird because Carlos knew Lando didn’t drink wine, but maybe it was just an exceptional bottle. The menu was in Italian, so Lando went with what he knew and ordered pasta, meanwhile Carlos ordered something in Italian so Lando had no idea what it could be.
They talked a little bit about the race, Lando pushing down his sense of dread from the start of the night. But when their food came and it turned out that Carlos ordered a whole baked fish, he couldn’t help but be shocked.
They always shared food. Carlos knew, he knew, that Lando didn’t like fish. So why would he do this?
The dread became thicker, and it came to Lando suddenly. Carlos didn’t want to share food tonight. He didn’t want everyone in the restaurant knowing how close they were. It felt like a spy movie by how much Carlos wanted them to pretend.
He put his fork down and looked Carlos in the eye.
“Are we dating?”
Carlos’ whole body stiffened.
“Sure.”
As if that didn’t sound like the most half-assed agreement Lando had ever heard.
“Are you my boyfriend?”
Carlos looked away, “If you want me to be.”
Lando felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dropped on him.
“Because Carlos,” His voice became frantic, “I’ve been considering you to be my boyfriend for the past year.”
Carlos still didn’t look at him.
Lando continued, “It’s becoming very clear to me that we are not on the same page.”
Carlos sipped his wine, “Let’s talk about this later, not here.”
Sure, Lando could play fair. For the rest of his dinner he picked at his food barely making small talk. The air felt stifling. The wine felt like ash in his mouth. There was an undercurrent of a fight about to happen, the tension zapping between them like electricity.
By the time they walked back to Lando’s hotel room, he could barely keep his anger contained.
As soon as Carlos closed the door behind him, Lando let it unleash.
“I’m not just something you can fuck. Ok?” He spat out, “I actually have these crazy things called feelings.”
“Of course you do. I do too,” Carlos sighed, “But we have fun, no?”
Fun. Their relationship was fun.
Lando had a hard time finding what the fun part was about keeping their entire relationship under lock and key. It had taken him months of anxiety and depression to even come out to his family and closest friends, and lately he felt like he was just being shoved back in the closet again. For the first time in years Lando could finally accept himself, he felt happy and confident with who was. But now… there was nothing about being forbidden that made Lando feel good.
“Fun,” Lando scoffed, “Between us? You can’t even admit that you’re gay!”
Carlos’ face immediately turned red with barely contained anger, “Lando. Calm down.”
“See? Even now you can’t even have a conversation,” Lando threw his hands up in the air and his voice turned up another few notches, “Don’t shut this down. Don’t blame me for caring.”
“What do you want me to say, Lando?” Carlos was now just on the verge of shouting, “We can either do what we have been doing, which I thought was good, or we can be done.”
Lando flinched back.
“Be done? I’m not even talking about being done right now! I just need some reassurance. I can wait months. I’ll wait another year. I just need you to tell me that sometime, anytime, you’ll love me in public.”
Now it was Carlos’ turn to scoff, “In public?”
“Let me tell my family. Let me tell my friends for real,” Lando tried desperately, “Hold my hand in a restaurant. I don’t know? Anything other than pretending that we’re friends at best.”
Carlos looked at him almost like a small child, and then in the most condescending tone said, “You want me to ruin my life? You want me to get disowned?”
“No! No. That’s not at all what I’m saying. What are you so afraid of? Your friends won’t care, I know it. You even have gay friends. And your dad already likes me.”
“Well, he won’t like you if he knows that you’re a-”
Carlos cut himself off, and Lando froze.
“A what?” He shivered, a cold feeling washing over him, “Finish that sentence, Carlos. What were you going to say?”
Carlos immediately realized his mistake, he tried to back down again.
“Lando, nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
But Lando wouldn’t let this go. He had enough self respect to not let people say that shit about himself.
“Because I can assume what you were going to call me,” He looked Carlos in the eye, “Do you know that applies to yourself?”
“Lando,” Carlos looked at him pitifully, “I’m not gay, cariño.”
Lando gestures at Carlos and then to himself, “So what the hell do you call this?”
“Lando, stop.”
He didn’t have a single shred of motivation to follow that statement, “What if I call up your dad and tell him how you like to fuck me? How you like to suck my cock. How last night you were begging me to be on top?”
Carlos grabbed his arm around the meaty part of his bicep, nails digging in on the wrong side of almost too much, “You never know when to shut the fuck up. You just have to whine until you get your way.”
Lando’s jaw clicked shut.
“You can never be happy with a good thing. You’re too greedy, you know,” Carlos didn’t stop, “Why do you think me and Daniel left? You suck every opportunity dry until someone has to give up, and notice how it’s never been you?”
Lando only had a little bit of fight left in him, “Asking for you to love me is not greedy.”
“It is when I’m telling you no.”
Time seemed to stop at that statement. Lando felt his blood run cold.
“We’re done Landito, you’re asking too much. I hope you’re fucking happy.”
And Lando didn’t even have to tell him to get the fuck out, because Carlos grabbed all his stuff and slammed the hotel room door shut on his way out.
How crazy that today was the only day that Carlos didn’t make Lando look both ways in the hallway before escaping Lando’s room, just to be extra sure that he wouldn’t get caught.
The rest of the night passed in a painful blur. How did the day start so amazing, and then go so wrong? Thank god it was only Thursday, because he knew there was no way he was in a good headspace to get into a steel death trap. Lando shuffled between crying and dissociating.
He felt half awake the entire night. Nothing felt real anymore.
The next day, Lando sat in his driver's room, knees curled up to his chest and his head buried in his arms. Tears slowly streamed down his face as he tried to slowly pull himself the fuck together.
Too greedy, too greedy, too greedy.
All of last night played in a horrifying repeat.
A gentle knock and the sound of the door sliding open pulled him from his mind.
“You good, Lan?”
He shook his head, eyes still buried.
“Wasn’t a date,” He sounded pathetic, voice wet and shaky, “It’s over.”
“Aw mate.”
Lando looked up and could tell that Oscar was taken aback by his red rimmed eyes and general awful appearance.
“Just say I told you so,” Lando snapped, “I know you wanted this to happen.”
Oscar slid down the wall to sit next to him.
“No, Lando,” He said firmly but kindly, “I thought this might happen, but I never ever would’ve wanted it to. Not to anyone, and especially not to you.”
He took another shuddering breath.
“Do you think I’m too greedy, Osc?”
“Absolutely not,” Oscar said in disbelief, “Are you kidding me? If anything you should be greedier. You’re constantly giving to everyone around you.”
Lando shrugged weakly.
Oscar sighed, “Lando. You spend the most time with the fans talking and signing things. You always go to Max and Daniel when they have bad days. You know all the crew’s names, and hobbies, and interests.”
He felt a little bit of life bleed back into him. Oscar always knew exactly the right thing to say.
He leaned his head down on Oscar’s shoulder, “Thanks, Osc.”
“Of course.”
And there they sat in a comfortable silence until it was time for FP1. The rest of the day went well, both Lando and Oscar set good lap times in both practices, and the car felt good.
The next day, feeling slightly more alive, Lando made his way through the paddock turnstiles on his way to the motorhome.
From behind he heard the slapping feet and then an unmistakable Aussie accent, “Lando have you been on Twitter yet today?”
Lando turned to him and was blinded by the papaya team kit.
“Osc, you know you can wear your own clothes once in a while?”
“Live and breathe papaya,” Oscar said seriously, but his eyes crinkled giving away the joke, “But seriously, have you been online?”
Lando’s sports psychologist paired with his McLaren PR manager had instructed him to never open Twitter when he was by himself, or honestly, at all.
“No, not yet why?”
By now they had made the trek and were safely entering the doors of the motorhome.
Oscar’s face softened, “Carlos arrived with Rebecca today.”
Lando froze.
“What?”
“They walked in like an hour ago. Kym’s already posted the pictures.”
Oscar fished out his phone from his pocket, quickly tapped on it, and then faced the screen toward Lando.
And yep, there they were all over Instagram. Rebecca looked absolutely gorgeous, and Carlos looked handsome as ever, but god, they looked in love.
“Oh my god, Oscar. I didn’t want to see that,” He sucked in a shaking breath, “I never wanted to see her again.”
Oscar guided him by his elbow into his driver room, “I’m so sorry, Lando.”
The world seemed to be closing in. Was this whole thing calculated? Did Carlos always plan to have Rebecca here, or did he call a jet for her after Thursday's conversation just to rub salt in the wound?
“Oscar, I feel like you’re doing all this to hurt me.”
He didn’t know why he said that, but once it came out he couldn’t stop it.
“Me?” Oscar raised his eyebrows in complete disbelief, “I’m trying to hurt you?”
Now if Lando could just get himself to shut the fuck up.
“Yah, you show me every awful thing. You tell me every bad thing about Carlos as if I don’t have to live it every fucking day!” His voice was getting louder.
Oscar’s face hardened, “Lando, I am perhaps the only one actively trying not to hurt you.”
“You sure are doing a good job of showing it.”
It felt a bit like blood letting. Saying all these bad things to Oscar, when really all he wanted to do was yell at Carlos.
“You’re unbelievable,” Oscar threw his hands up and his whole body grew tense, “I am always here after a bad day, always. I’m here after bad dates that aren’t actually dates at all. I play FIFA with you even though I suck at it because it makes you happy.”
Oscar looked at him, letting the silence build. Lando knew that he'd hurt his teammate, the complete dismissal of his efforts struck a chord with Oscar. But the shock of the conversation had him rooted in his place. The lapsing silence only grew the fury on Oscar’s face, he could tell that Oscar was waiting for Lando to say something. Take it all back. But when he saw that Lando had nothing to say, he continued.
“We talk constantly because you’re my friend, and I like spending time with you,” Oscar steamrolls on, voice getting louder, “Carlos doesn’t even like you!”
Lando’s eyes widened and so did Oscars.
“Oh my god, I didn’t mean that.”
Hot tears pricked in the back of Lando’s eyes.
“Please get out,” he said softly.
Oscar reached out to him, but Lando took a step back. The defeat, shame, anger, and humiliation flooded through his body making his skin feel too tight.
“You’re right, Oscar. You’re right.”
“No, I’m wrong,” Oscar said a little frantically, “Please, just–”
“You’re not supposed to be mean to me,” Lando forced out, cutting him off, his hands tugged painfully at his hair, “But you’re right. And I deserved to hear it.”
“Lando–” Oscar tried again.
“Get out. Please, just get out.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
“Oscar, I am being so serious,” His hands tugged harder, and his voice became even more desperate, “I am two seconds away from having a panic attack, and you being here is going to make it worse. Please, please get out.”
Oscar's eyes widened and his body flinched back, finally grasping the situation he made his way to the door.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry, Lando,” He looked horrified with himself, “I’ll go get Jon.”
When the door was finally shut and he was alone in his room, he finally let the waves crash into him.
The panic attack was the way they always were. The room narrowed in, and Lando couldn’t get out of the replay in his head. Jon must’ve been somewhere nearby because he made it in the room pretty quickly, and immediately went through Lando’s breathing exercises until Lando felt somewhat alive again.
“Want to talk about it, bud?”
Lando quickly shook his head, still trying to self regulate.
“Ok,” Jon said gently, “Let’s just stay here and calm down some more.”
Lando looked at his watch, and grimaced. FP3 was an hour away and Qualifying a bit after that. He would pull himself together. As a matter of self defense, Lando could feel himself compartmentalizing everything that had happened with Carlos and Oscar. Then he was Lando the crybaby, but now he had to be Lando the Formula 1 driver.
The rest of the day and the weekend in general wasn’t amazing, but it went by without a hitch. On Sunday it was a McLaren 5-6, which was fine. Zak and Andreas knew they weren’t going to be the fastest cars this weekend, so it wasn’t a surprise. And Lando couldn’t help but feel relieved that he didn’t have to do all the media duties that came with getting a podium.
He and Carlos didn’t talk again, which was normal for the end of a race weekend. And about to become even more normal, as they had finally ended for good.
He and Oscar didn’t talk again, which was the furthest thing from normal. Not for lack of trying on the younger man's part. For things that they had to do together, Lando plastered on his media smile and attitude, one that Oscar could easily recognize. Jon was instructed to immediately grab him after obligations, so there’s no leeway for Oscar to try and talk to him again.
He’s not mad. Well, maybe at himself. He knew that Oscar was right about the whole thing, painfully so. But the situation and delivery of it all still stung. He didn’t need Oscar to say everything so bluntly, so clearly. Lando wasn’t prepared for any sort of hurt to come from his teammate, and maybe that was placing Oscar on too high of a podium. He was selfishly trying to make Oscar a support system without giving anything in return.
Greedy, greedy, greedy.
So yah, to cope he hid the whole weekend and the following week in shame. His phone was set to Do Not Disturb with only calls and texts from essential people able to come through. It was fine. Oscar was spending most of the week at the MTC, and Carlos was spending time in Madrid, so it was all him wallowing in his Monaco apartment until the second to final race of the year.
When he boarded the plane to Brazil he started nervously picking at the skin around his nails. The team sponsor organized a jet for both Lando and Oscar and all their personnel. They had done this enough time before to all have unassigned assigned seats, and he knew that his sat right next to Oscar’s. They picked the bench at the back of the plane because it had a large TV in front of it that they were able to hook up a console to, but because of this, it was also the most secluded.
The flight might actually be Lando’s execution.
Slowly people began to load on until he saw the familiar mop of brown hair make his way down the aisle.
Lando looked up like a deer in headlights and blurted out, “I’m sorry.”
Oscar sat down and looked at him in disbelief.
“Lan, you’re sorry? I’ve been practicing my apology for the last three days.”
Lando couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh.
“Can we both just be sorry, and go back to normal? I’m tired of not talking to you.”
“No Lando, you deserve to hear my apology. I was a right dickhead to you,” Oscar smiled sadly, “I’m sorry for what I said, and how I acted afterwards. I was trying to protect you, but I didn’t realize how my actions made me look. You’re one of the strongest people I know and I don’t ever want you to think that I’m being mean or unsupportive. So yah, you’re my best friend, and I forgot how to act like I’m yours.”
“Even when you’re a dickhead you’re my best friend,” Lando let out a wet laugh, “I’m sorry too, I was spending too much time worrying about Carlos that I didn’t realize how much I was neglecting our friendship. And I’m really sorry I accused you of trying to hurt me, I know you only ever want to help.”
And if they both had some wetness in their eyes when they looked at each other, well, neither would ever admit it.
“Ok, now let’s never fight again,” Lando couldn’t help but say.
It truly was an awful week without talking or texting the Aussie at all.
“Deal,” Oscar grinned at him.
And Brazil goes absolutely brilliantly. For a second in FP1 and 2, it looked like they would never get out of Q1, but something absolutely clicked between them and the engineers and in FP3 they were flying. Come Sunday it’s the second McLaren 2-3 of the season.
They spent the next week in Woking as a team, trying to grind out the last few details before the final race of the season. He’d been staying in Oscar’s Woking apartment because he didn’t have it in him to keep making the drive back to London, and it felt like a sleepover every night. By the time Wednesday night rolled around, Lando never wanted to leave.
The two of them were piled on Oscar’s couch with an ungodly amount of blankets watching old sitcom reruns and scrolling on their phones.
His phone dinged, interrupting his concentration from his candy crush level.
Chili
Cabron, can we talk
Landito
idk
i thought we were done
Chili
Come on
You know I didn’t mean that
Landito
seems pretty done to me
Chili
Stop playing around
It was just a silly fight
Landito
silly is arguing about what’s for dinner
silly isn’t you telling me you’ll never love me
Chili
Jesus Lando
Get over it
Landito
did u srsly forget everything u said to me?
i’ll never get over that shit
Chili
Grow up
Landito
🖕
yah, we’re done
Lando grabbed the nearest throw pillow and screamed into it, making Oscar jump at his side.
“What the hell was that?” Oscar put a hand to his heart, feeling his skyrocketing heart rate, “You scared the shit out of me.”
Lando tilted his phone letting him read the texts. As Oscar scrolled his eyebrows climbed higher and higher.
“Everytime I think he’s reached the peak level of asshole, he manages to prove me wrong,” he said after reading.
Lando screamed into the pillow again.
Oscar patted his shoulder gently, “You deserve better.”
“But do I?”
Oscar blinked and gestured at the phone.
“Mate, anyone deserves better than that.”
“Osc, I’m just worried that maybe Carlos is the best I can get.”
And saying it opened up a whole chest of other insecurities.
“Who could possibly want to be with a gay F1 driver? My schedule is fucked, race weekends control my moods, nobody would want to be dissected by the media. I tried so hard for him, and it still wasn’t enough, and maybe I’m the problem, and,” Lando took a breath and dug his final grave, “and, maybe I’m just not loveable.”
There was a long stretch of silence where the two men just looked at each other. Normally this is the part where Oscar would immediately jump to his defense. The fact that he hadn’t said anything yet was pretty telling.
God. It was Lando’s fault all along. Oscar even agreed.
Finally the silence got too much and he reached for the pillow again. Instead of feeling the plush fabric, he’s interrupted by Oscar putting his hand on Lando’s.
Lando looked at him, and Oscar visibly braced himself and took a steadying breath.
“Lando, I love you.”
“I love you too,” Lando said immediately, “But that’s not what I’m talking about here.”
“No, Lan,” Oscar shook his head, “I’m in love with you.”
Lando froze and looked at the Aussie.
“You don’t have to say anything. You just deserve to know, you are definitely loveable. So loveable.”
Lando shook his head, “You’re just saying that.”
Oscar’s eyes softened, “You can ask Kim or Logan how I’ve been pining after you for months.”
“You really don’t mean that,” Lando said in disbelief, “I’ve been awful this year.”
“Lan, how often do I lie to you?”
The answer was never. Oscar was always blunt, always honest, always said what he believed even when it was the outlying opinion or it might hurt somebody’s feelings. If he wanted to lie he just wouldn’t say anything at all.
Lando just stared at him, scanning across his face to reveal what he knew was the truth.
“You love me.”
The Aussie nodded.
It settled comfortably in Lando’s heart. Oscar loved him.
This felt right, unlike the constant festering that came with Carlos. What could he have possibly done to be rewarded with a love like Oscar’s? Oscar was the best person that he knew and Oscar loved him. Loved Lando. It felt unreal.
Lando shook his head again, but this time with a smile forming on his face.
“I think I love you too.”
“You don’t have to say it back,” Oscar rubbed his arm, “I said it because you should know. I don’t expect you to return it or do anything about it.”
But Oscar is easy to be in love with. When Lando thought about it some more, it felt like coming home.
Lando reached out to Oscar and grabbed his hand, “No, I mean it.”
“Oh.”
Now it was Oscar’s turn to look like a fish out of water.
“But we have to go really slow,” Lando said honestly, “I’m still recovering from the Carlos mind fuck, but I do want everything with you. Just maybe in a little bit.”
“You can set the pace. Anything you’re comfortable with,” Oscar said so sincerely, “And no pressure if you eventually decide this isn’t something you want.”
“I’m just asking for a little patience,” Lando laughed, “Not for you to break up with me before we’ve even started.”
“Yah I suppose you’re right,” Oscar let out a little laugh at that one too.
There was another stretch of silence where they just looked at each other with matching smiles.
Oscar broke the silence, “Want to play FIFA?”
As soon as those words came out of the Aussies mouth, Lando was already reaching for the controllers.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The next day, from the moment their plane touched tarmac, their weekend went well. The team knew that the track wasn’t suited for them, and they were more so fighting for the top half of the points. So on Sunday when he stepped out of the car in third, and Oscar in fourth, it felt a little bit like winning.
From the miserable start to the season when he wasn’t friends with Oscar and they were trading DNF’s to now standing on the podium, it felt surreal.
In the end, Max won Vegas, which was honestly a huge surprise to everyone on the paddock.
Not.
Lando was honestly just happy that the season was over, and he was happy that McLaren wouldn’t be changing for many more years. Although the 2023 season had taught him so much about racing, love, and friendship, he was mostly just excited to leave it in the past and start completely new. In 2024 he’d have Oscar for the whole year, both as a teammate and on their way to something more. Lando knew without a shadow of a doubt, it would turn out amazing.
But before the season was over, and because they were in Las Vegas, there was still one last thing to be done.
This year Red Bull decided to host an end of the year party, and invited all the teams and personnel. Lando just knew it would be epic. He was also super excited to see Martin, who was hired to DJ. But mostly, he was just excited to party and not have to worry about anything for the next month.
He knew Oscar was a little anxious about the party but was putting on a brave face for Lando’s sake. So in the car ride there Lando laid out how the party would go, and what their plan would be, knowing that Oscar would be fine as long as he knew exactly what would be happening. As he talked through it he could tell that Oscar was easing up and by the time they were dropped off out front, both of them were nothing but excited.
Lando and Oscar walked into the club together but immediately split up with the promise to spend the latter half of the party together. Oscar went to see Logan, Fernando, and Charles. Meanwhile, Lando, with a couple drinks in his system, caught up with Max, Alex and George, and Daniel.
He carefully avoided Carlos, who was flitting around the club looking decidedly not sober. But the second he stepped away from everybody and began his mission to return to Oscar, a large hand fit on the small of his back.
The familiarity of it sent a shock to his system, he immediately stepped back and whipped around.
“Hola, cabron,” Carlos smiled, “Great party, no?”
If Lando wasn’t so used to every micro detail about Carlos he wouldn’t think anything was wrong. But he knew what Carlos was like when he was drunk, and this wasn’t it.
“You’re high,” Lando stared at him in shock.
Carlos nodded his head dumbly as he held up a small empty plastic bag.
“Aye. I tried to ask your DJ buddy, but he held out on me,” Carlos shook his head offended, “This was from one of those silly influencers.”
God, this whole thing was just like him. Lando tried to formulate what to say to stop the interaction, but came up short. Luckily his savior in a maroon shirt made his appearance.
“Lando, I’ve been looking for you for ages,” Oscar stared blankly at Carlos before turning and smiling gently at Lando, “I thought you’d be in the booth with Martin. It took me ages to make my way to the front, and then you weren’t even there.”
Oscar laughed at himself, clearly also drunk. His statement seemed to inspire something in Carlos, as he immediately lit up like he had just been told the best thing ever.
“I forgot, Lando, you’re a DJ,” Carlos gestured to the bag he was still holding and then back to Lando, “Surely you have some more, cariño?”
Lando’s jaw dropped, “Are you seriously asking me for drugs right now?”
Carlos nodded eagerly.
Oscar didn’t waste a moment, “Mate, sober up. You’re making yourself look like an asshole.”
“I have never done drugs, let alone sold them. Are you really that fucking stupid? Who the fuck do you think I am?” Lando said in shock, this was the first night in months he had even been drunk.
“Come one Landito, did you forget how to have fun?” Carlos asked sharply, immediately going on the defensive when he realized the conversation wouldn’t go the way he expected it to.
Lando’s eyes rolled so hard he felt it in the back of his head, “Oscar, can you please go get us another shot? I think I’m going to need it to forget this conversation.”
Oscar looked at Lando, nodded, and left without a word. He trusted Lando to stand up for himself. To do what he thought was right. It made the gooey feeling return to Lando. The unwavering support that Oscar had just showed how much Oscar believed in him.
Carlos pulled the attention back to him, “Don’t you miss this? Us?”
“I don’t even miss you,” Lando answered honestly, “but I do wish I still had you in my life.”
“See, cariño. We had something special. Let’s go to my hotel room after this, it will be just like old times.”
Lando rolled his eyes again, “Rebecca’s here. Don’t be an asshole.”
His gaze wandered to the bar on the left, where Oscar looked so natural leaning up against it, waiting for the bartender to get their drinks.
Carlos follows his gaze, “Ah. You’ve always been a slut. Couldn’t even wait a couple weeks without being filled again.”
Lando didn’t even have it in him to be mad, if anything it’s what he should’ve expected. Carlos would always say something untrue and hurtful when he couldn’t cope with no longer being wanted. And Lando was over caring about what he thought. He knew he wouldn’t be ready for such an extreme relationship for a while longer, but he knew that Oscar would move as slowly as Lando wanted. Loving each other was enough. And that was something that Carlos would never understand.
“You can never just let me be happy,” Lando sighed, “What’s the goal of all this? You hate to see me doing well, and if you can’t beat me at racing, you can beat my happiness?”
Carlos opened his mouth, to no doubt say something even worse, but was stopped when a dainty hand wrapped around his arm.
“Hey Lando, congratulations on the season,” Rebecca smiled and then turned and pressed a gentle kiss to Carlos’ cheek.
Immediately the tension leaked out of the two men, they became the picture of how friends interact. Rebecca didn’t know any better. Didn’t know that Carlos likes to fuck men, fuck Lando. It all just spoke to what a master manipulator Carlos was. Sure, Lando had let Carlos hurt him, but Lando would never stoop to his level. Never homewreck a relationship. For all he knew, Carlos might truly treat Rebecca like a queen, and he wouldn’t take that away from her.
But, he also wouldn’t stop Carlos from ruining it for himself, wouldn’t give a warning that he knew that eventually Carlos will crave a masculine hand again. That’s how it’s always worked. He’ll cheat on his partners, and he’ll cheat on his fuck buddies. And yes, maybe not telling her made Lando a bad person, but Oscar said he needs to be more selfish. Maybe this could be the first step.
Oscar came back with the shots, handed one over, and tucked himself next to Lando.
“Hey Rebecca,” Oscar smiled politely, “I just overheard Charles and Alex looking for the two of you.”
Rebecca immediately lit up at the mention of their friends.
“Thank you for letting me know, I’d love to go talk to them. Oh Carlos, let’s go say hello, I haven’t seen her yet and I’d love to congratulate her on her–” Her voice disappeared as she happily guided Carlos by his arm back into the sea of people.
Lando turns to Oscar, “Did Charles actually want to see them?”
Oscar shook his head mischievously. He lifted his glass to Landos, there was a gentle clink before they both took the shot and passed the empty glasses to a server walking by with an empty tray.
Lando and Oscar were both on the good side of drunk. The music sounded better, they were smiling wider. He couldn’t remember the last time he was drinking and actually having a good time, instead of being anxious and heavy with the tension of an unavoidable fight later.
He missed it. Being drunk and safe with a friend, knowing with absolutely certainty that he would go to bed happy. It was maybe the nicest night of Lando’s life.
“God. I just wish I could talk to him just once like how it used to be before we started all this shit. Is that fucked up?”
“A little,” Oscar grinned, “And I’d really like to punch him in the face.”
Lando leaned into his side, “Yah, that actually sounds better.”
Oscar’s strong arm wrapped around his shoulder, tucking Lando further into his chest. A gentle touch, and one that Lando didn’t have to initiate. It was refreshing. He only had to take a break from the mind fuck that was Carlos to realize that everything that he had asked for, wanted, that he thought was too much, was actually right in front of him.
He turned his face up and was met with cheeks flushed from alcohol and unstraying kind eyes.
“Oscar, would you love me in public?”
“Of course.”
The answer was immediate. It made Lando want to cry.
“Want me to yell it?” Oscar continued, his smile got even bigger, “I’ll do it. I’ll yell it right now. It’ll be so loud, everyone here will have to know.”
His hands lifted off Lando and came to cup around his mouth. Lando felt him take a big gulping breath and knew he had a millisecond to act.
He swirled around and slapped his hands over the Aussie’s mouth.
They both looked at each other. Lando’s hands were still on Oscar’s lips, but he could feel the huge grin underneath.
He moved his hand to cup the Australian's jaw instead, “Osc, we’re so drunk.”
“Ask me and I’ll do it when I’m sober.”
Lando had never believed a statement more in his entire life. Although he didn’t actually want Oscar to declare his love impossibly loud to the entire club, if Lando asked, he knew that Oscar would do it without question.
“I love you,” Lando wrapped himself back into Oscar’s arm. His back pressed entirely to the Australians front. Together they swayed to the bumping music, entirely content to be together in the sea of people that they could be talking to instead.
“I love you too,” Oscar’s arms wrap more securely around him, “I love you everywhere. All the time.”