Work Text:
“I don’t think I need comment what happened” Esteban stated over the radio. He tried to keep his tone calm because he knew the message would likely be broadcasted but damn Verstappen, did he expect him to disappear between turn one and turn two?
Waiting for traffic to pass, Esteban swore under his breath, taking care that he wasn't pressing the radio button as he watched Max disappear off after Lewis, “Merde, Dieu, c’est un tel connard, putain, putain.”
Another bad race, his third in a row in which he wouldn’t score points. “He didn’t leave me any space,” he told his engineer, frustration bleeding through into his voice revealing his true feelings about the matter. Rolling his eyes at his engineers reply, telling him to stay focused, huh easy for him to say, he thought.
Re-centring his thoughts he dropped back into the familiar rhythm of driving, managing to close back up to Sainz on the following laps, but before he was able to overtake his engineer came back over the radio,
“Okay Esteban we’ve been given a 10 second stop and go penalty, we want to serve it on this lap, box box, please confirm.”
'Putain, putain', he swore before pressing the radio button, “confirm, box this lap.” Great that meant that he was getting all the blame for the crash he realised, as he engaged the pit limiter letting out a heavy sigh as he cruised down the pitlane.
Stopping in his box his eyes wandered to the left, glancing at his garage. Foul mood falling away slightly when he spotted his boyfr...Lance, when he spotted Lance standing near the front. Lance signed something too quickly for Esteban to catch but he assumed it was something like ‘I believe in you.’
The ten seconds seemed to drag but eventually, he saw the board moved upwards giving him the all-clear and once again he was racing. The last laps were more about damage limitation, he wouldn't be able to get back into the points, but he’d have to try and get as high as he could. The last laps passed in a blur and soon the checked flag dropped. As he went through the cool down protocols, he got another message from his engineer, “P14 Esteban, decent last laps mate, unfortunate circumstances with what happened but we’ll discuss that later"
“yeah thanks guys, sorry about what happened but thanks for everything guys, hopefully we can finish strong next race”, he responded.
If all went well he'd be able to redeem himself in Abu Dhabi and finish the season well. His stomach sank as he thought about the criticism he'd be facing from the journalists and fans, not that it would be the first time he'd experienced it. Honestly must of the time it was coming from the other side of the garage. No doubt he’d have to avoid his social media for a few days considering he was already being blamed. He wasn’t the most popular guy in the paddock on a good day, with plenty of people repeatedly telling him that he shouldn’t have his seat and the like, and now with Max’s fan’s annoyed, well let's just say he wasn’t looking forward to it.
Granted Max was the race leader, but he’d been trying to unlap himself and he was allowed to do so, so he’d taken his chance. It wasn’t his fault that Max couldn’t use his mirrors and thought he’d back off because he was in the slower car.
Parking the car up he decided the best thing to do would be to get in and out of the weighing area quickly so he could discuss the incident with the team before he was caught by any media. Shutting the car down, Esteban stayed in the car for a second to collect his thoughts. The disappointment of another pointless finish was weighing on him and right now he hated the added demands of being an f1 driver. Not only did he have to suffer through the media pen but he also had to endure the post-race debrief. Going over data from not only the race but also practice and qualifying. Although he loved what he did, the technical side of things did get mind-numbing after a while.
Noticing that other drivers were passing his car, he reckoned it was time for himself to get out and face the music. Undoing all the seat buckles and lifting off the neck brace, before hooking his arms over the halo and using that to pull himself out of the seat. Just ahead of him was Brendon, the kiwi driver reaching over, clasping their hands together.
“So, I hear you have a pretty exciting race eh?”
Esteban groaned, “I thought I’d be able to skip the questions for a bit longer.”
“haha you’re alright mate, happens to the best of us” he laughed, clapping Esteban on the back.
They exchanged some small talk as they walked towards the weighing area, not talking about anything of note. He noticed a few of the other drivers and various team staff walking away from them, turning and staring at him. He avoided their gazes, whilst he’d calmed down a little since the incident and understood that he shared the blame for what happened, but he was still adamant the blame should go both ways. Apparently, not everyone thought the same.
Entering the FIA area, he queued up behind Brendon spinning his helmet around in his hands as he waited. Glancing behind him he realised Bottas had stepped up and the pair nodded at each other, Esteban turning his attention back to the officials in front of him. The relative peace and calm abruptly shattered when a voice yelled out “Ocon!”
Wincing, Esteban glanced to his right, immediately spotting Max marching towards him, “what was that!” he continued as he climbed onto the platform.
“You didn’t leave the space”, Esteban retorted.
“You fucked my race; I was leading, you should have backed off!” Max shot back.
“I was ahead in turn 1, I had a right to be there.”
Reaching out Max shoved him with one hand, causing him to take several steps back, “You cost me a win, you weren’t even in the points.”
“Hey, don’t touch me, you cost yourself a win by being entitled” he replied, reaching out to shove Max back but the other man grabbed his arm pushing it to the side.
“You’re the backmarker, that means you get out of my way!”
“Maybe you should be a better racer if a backmarker was able to attack you”
At that Max shoved Esteban again, this time forcing him off the platform. Esteban raised his free hand in the air in what he hoped was a placating manner and then waved at one of the officials, hoping that one of them would step in before things got really out of hand.
Max also jumped down from the platform, beginning to head away from him and back towards the main paddock, “This is why no one likes you, you fuck everything up. You don't deserve to even race against us” Max stated as he walked away. This time Esteban was the one to call out, “Hey you wanna say that to my face?” following after Max.
To his surprise Max grabbed hold of the collar of his race suit holding him in place as Esteban attempted to step back, realising his mistake. As Esteban stepped back, for the third time Max shoved him away, into the arms of one of the FIA officials who had finally decided to get involved, one of them gesturing to Max that he should keep walking.
“If you have any sense, I wouldn’t follow him” – the quiet voice of Valtteri stated, “but he started it...” Esteban tried to protest.
“Just leave it mate” Bredon also spoke up, the two other drivers both hovering on the platform still. Sighing Esteban knew they were right and silently moved back onto the platform and presenting himself to be weighed. “Interlagos, always good for drama” Brendon stated as he finished up, “I’ll see you in Dubai, try not to get killed by Max in the meantime” he added with a laugh.
As Esteban left the weighing area and headed towards the media pen, he was met with boos from some of the fans who had waited around. Cheekily giving them a wave and a grin, he quickly walked past trying to act like he didn’t care, even if they’d probably seen him be shoved around. God, he could use a hug, and luckily, he knew just the person who’d oblige him.
………………………………………………………..
Lance POV
Lance watched the race with bated breath, he always did these days. It hadn’t been so much of an issue before when he didn’t know anyone personally but that had changed two races ago when Esteban had come into his life. Despite the rocky first meeting, he’d gotten a good vibe from the taller man, something that his father had assured him was right. Their friendship solidified when Esteban had first learnt sign language, even if it was the wrong one, it had still been more than any hearing person had ever done for him.
From his seat in the garage he took in the atmosphere, even without his hearing he knew the mood was subdued, neither driver was currently in the points and Esteban was a lap down. Next to him sat Dan, Esteban’s performance coach, another new friend. Suddenly Dan threw his hands in the air, body language quickly switching from relaxed to irritated causing Lance to whip his head around to look at the screen feeling his stomach drop. The cameras showing both Verstappen and Esteban facing the wrong way, and the captions stating that Esteban had driven into the side of the race leader.
Letting out a groan he rubbed a hand through his hair, sighing heavily as he watched his friend drop further down the timing screen. The tv screen now showed that the incident was under investigation and Lance worried his lip between his teeth knowing it would end up being bad news for Esteban since the commentators were all laying the blame on the Frenchman.
Looking around the garage he could tell from the body language of the mechanics that they were frustrated. Bouncing his leg he looked back at the screen and saw that Esteban was able to begin driving again, and he hoped that he’d have no more issues in the race.
Just as the thought crossed his mind he spotted the captions saying that Esteban was being given a time penalty and immediately sensed the mechanics behind him getting ready. Removing his headphones (He didn’t really need them, but it made him feel more like part of the team – the first time he’d worn them he’d ended up with a dent in his hair, much to Esteban’s amusement), he snuck to the front of the garage. Making sure to stick close to the walls so that he wouldn’t be in the way, he watched as the mechanics readied the brake cooling equipment.
He knew it was a longshot, but he wanted to be able to try and offer some comfort to Esteban, so he hovered just outside the garage watching as his friend's car slowly come towards him. He had no idea if this would work but hopefully, it would give the Frenchman a boost.
“You’re doing amazing sweetie, you got this” he signed as the car came to halt in front of him. His actions caused a couple of raised eyebrows from some of the team members but luckily since the GP in Texas a few weeks back he’d spent more time with the team both through his father and Esteban meaning everyone in the team knew he existed. Which he hoped would avoid another misunderstanding like what happened with Esteban.
Heading back to his seat he pulled out his phone, keeping one eye on the screen but trusting that he’d be able to tell if something big happened again, and opened Twitter. Wincing when he saw that the incident was already trending and that the majority of people were siding with Verstappen. Lance made a note to attempt to keep Esteban from looking at social media for a little bit.
Glancing up he saw that the checked flag was out and as Lance stood up a tap on his arm made him look to the left. Seeing Dan holding out his phone with the message showing,
'Did you want to go straight to his driver's room or hang around for media duty?' – Dan gestured to Lance to take the phone to reply which he did with a small smile. It wasn’t his ideal way of communicating but he understood that sometimes it was the only way and at least Dan was being inclusive. He’d been a bit shy around the man at first after he’d caught himself and Esteban cuddling after the Mexico qualifying session, but aside from some gentle teasing, he’d been fine about the pair of them.
'Am I allowed in the media bit?' He typed angling the phone for Dan to see.
'Sure, why not.'
Grinning at the answer Lance grabbed his coat and followed Dan out of the garage and down towards the media area.
'We’ll have to wait a little bit, they have to be weighed and everything first but then we can grab him after the interviews are done'.
Nodding again Lance’s eyes roamed around the paddock. This bit had always been his favourite, the adrenaline from the race wearing off and everyone mingling. It was always a bit more chilled compared to the pre-race stress. There was elation in the air and also the quiet happiness from the teams that had managed a good points paying race.
Hovering by the edge of the media pen Lance simply observed the paddock around him. He’d always loved people watching even when he had his hearing and the hobby still held the same amount of relaxation. It was also a way he liked he challenge himself – to see if he could read someone’s lips from far away or correctly guess someone’s mood from their body language. Most of the journalists looked antsy and he guessed they just wanted to get the interviews underway and make sure they got the ‘good’ drivers. Gazing around he spotted two of the McLaren workers discussing…brownies? Huh, maybe he got that one wrong, he wondered, ah well never mind. Scratching the back of his head he shifted his weight, rocking back on his heels. He was beginning to regret his decision to stand around and wait for Este. At least in the driver's room, he’d be able to watch the interviews with captions. And there’d be aircon.
Mentally shaking himself out of his thoughts he watched some Red Bull personnel march past them, bodies tense. Without realising it his eyes flicked to their mouths, frowning as he was able to catch some of the words despite the angle, “…Idiot…ruined…” “…watch…out...” Wincing slightly when the two men glared in his direction, eyes tracking their backs as they walked away. So focused on the unusual behaviour that he flinched heavily when he felt a hand tap his shoulder, whirling around to see Dan holding his hands out.
“Sorry, sorry” Lance signed.
Dan seemed to understand and simply smiled at him, before pointing towards the other end of the media pen where Esteban had arrived just ahead of Brendon. Once again, a frown fell over Lance’s face as he took in the other man. His body language portraying a sense of annoyance and standoffishness. His shoulders were drawn up, one arm tucked loosely against his chest the other one playing with the zip on his race suit. After exchanging a few words with his press officer Esteban pulled the zip down, tying the arms of the suit around his waist.
Lance’s thoughts momentarily froze as he took in the defined chest muscles, biting the inside of his cheek to try and hide his reaction before allowing himself to let out a satisfied sigh. Honestly, Esteban’s body was like the cherry on top for Lance – amazing personality, sense of humour, and that body. The perfect package really and not for the first time, Lance felt the need to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
He still couldn’t believe that someone like Esteban actually liked him, when he could do so much better – and definitely had much better options throwing themselves at him all the time. Lance was secretly scared that Esteban was going to get sick of having to learn a whole other language just to talk to him and just give up and leave. His father had tried to be reassuring after noticing that Lance was stressed about it, stating that even at that first dinner Esteban was thinking about Lance. Plus, his dad had semi-seriously threatened to fire him if Esteban hurt him.
Watching Esteban doing interview after interview Lance leaned against the wall, spotting that another Force India press officer, Becky he thought, had come over to join them chatting with Dan. Noticing Lance looking she offered a quick wave hello before turning her attention back to her phone which Lance could see was open to Instagram. He chuckled lightly to himself, ah Esteban’s favourite. Hearing Lance’s laugh she glanced over grinning, shifting it closer so he could see. Lance bit back another laugh as he saw that she was scrolling through the filters. Dan crowded close on the other side and pointed at one of them causing them all to laugh when she applied it and zoomed in on Esteban’s disgruntled face. Lance couldn’t help the snot that escaped, followed by heavy laughing and soon he was bent over double, stomach aching.
When he was able to get himself under control, he righted himself glancing at the two people next to him, both of whom were still giggling. Looking around he realised he’d caught the attention of some of the other people in the pen, and he flushed slightly, holding his arms across his chest. He had no idea how loud he’d been, or how potentially disruptive he’d been to the interviews.
Biting his lip he glanced over to where Esteban was, loosening his arms and feeling his mouth twitch upwards unconsciously as he took in the bright grin now showing on his friends face. Lance felt his smile grow when Esteban signed “why laughing” at him.
“You” he signed back.
Rolling his eyes Esteban replied, “great thanks”, his grin giving away his true feelings.
Lance felt his stomach swoop a little at the interaction, it felt so natural to talk to Esteban even if their friendship was a little unconventional. The interviewer looked intrigued, twisting round to see who Esteban was signing to, gesturing towards Lance while asking something.
“A good friend” he saw Esteban say, “very good friend” he added, signing it as well.
Spotting the raised eyebrow of the interviewer who was still looking his way, Lance broke the eye contact, turning to Dan with pleading eyes. The other man snickered but reached over to pull Lance into his side, patting him on the back as he did so. “See the press love you,” he said, making sure to keep his face angled towards Lance as he spoke, hearing the other man huff in response. They watched as Esteban moved onto his next interview, Becky typing out a quick message telling Lance it was the last one.
“Kill me” Esteban signed as he walked past them, pulling a face at having to do another interview.
“Nope,” Lance replied a cheeky grin playing on his face, smile widening at the look of betrayal on Esteban’s face. “Please?” The annoyed look switching to a begging one, his mouth moving into a pout and holding his hands together in a praying gesture.
“If I did that then I’d have no-one to watch monkey documentaries with” Lance replied, giggling again when Esteban rolled his eyes, as he always did when Lance signed long sentences at him knowing perfectly well that he didn’t understand.
Luckily the last interview didn’t take long and soon the French driver joined them, sharing a quick side hug with Dan and Becky before pulling Lance into a full hug squeezing him tightly, dropping his head to rest on the shorter man's shoulder. Lance felt Esteban mutter something against his neck, feeling the hot breath tickle the back of his neck. Pulling back Lance gave Esteban a quizzical look, noting the tired look in his eyes.
Seeing the concerned look in his friend's eyes Esteban gave a weak smile, stating “I’m fine, can we go?” aiming the second part to Becky, who nodded the affirmative. As soon as he had confirmation Esteban began to walk away, long legs meaning he quickly grew the distance between himself and Lance, leaving the younger man jogging slightly to catch up. Lance watched his friend with growing concern, yes Esteban had had a bad race, but he seemed out of it. Trying and failing to catch his attention Lance fell into step alongside Esteban, hands brushing as they headed towards the hospitality, the group gaining some stares and glares from other people in the paddock, Esteban ducking his head and speeding up.
Once inside his mood didn’t change and as they arrived at Esteban’s room, Esteban slipped inside letting the door slam shut behind him in Lance and Dan’s faces. Exchanging a look, Dan gestured for Lance to go in, saying “I’ll give you guys a few minutes alone.”
Watching Dan walk away, Lance took a deep breath, knocking lightly before pushing the door open. Poking his head in, he felt his stomach drop when he spotted Esteban. The other man was sat on his settee, head in his hands and he could see his shoulders shaking. Carefully closing the door behind him, Lance slowly made his way over, lowering himself down next to the Frenchman and reaching out to rub his shoulder. Esteban flinched under his touch, pulling away slightly before raising his head and rubbing his hand over his face. Tilting his face towards Lance revealing blotchy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Humming in sympathy Lance pulled the other man into a hug, managing to angle it so that Esteban’s head was resting on Lance's chest. Resting one hand in Esteban’s hair, lightly stroking through the curls, and intertwining the other with one of Esteban’s hands. He could feel Esteban trembling, chest hitching occasionally as he gently cried.
He didn’t know how long they sat there but Lance would have sat there all day, all week, all month or all year if it helped Esteban. Eventually, Esteban pulled back, fingers quickly wiping away any tears that had leaked out. Lance could tell that he was saying something but as he was looking at Esteban from the side, he couldn’t see what it was.
Leaning over he tapped the Frenchman on the shoulder, gesturing that he couldn’t understand him. Esteban turned to face him, shoulders slumping as he signed “sorry.”
“It’s okay” Lance replied, “it’s okay.”
“I’m just tired” Esteban stated, “I’m just…ah tired, that’s it.”
Soothingly running his hand up and down Esteban’s arm, he cleared his throat, “what can I do?” he asked. He could count the number of people that he talked in front of on one hand, a list that had recently expanded to include Esteban. Most of the time he didn’t feel the need to speak, most people adapted pretty quickly especially if it was only for a short period of like in a shop or on a plane. When he first went deaf, he’d tried to keep speaking as much as he could refusing to accept his new reality.
After a while, though he stopped bothering, his family and speech therapist had tried to encourage him but his bullies had pointed out his issues with tone and volume any chance they got. In the end, he decided it wasn't worth it. While he still met with his therapist every couple of months, he mostly relied on lip reading, signing and hoping that other people were understanding.
Esteban always gave him the same look, every time he spoke. One of awe and generally softness -the same look that was being reflected in his eyes now. “Just be here” he said.
“Okay” Lance replied, snuggling back into Esteban’s side, resting his head on his shoulder, hand splayed across his chest just feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Esteban reached up to intertwine their hands, shifting so he could see the others face. “Thank you, Lance. Truly.”
In that moment and not for the first time he wished that he could hear Esteban’s voice; wished he could hear the French accent that sometimes caused him to stumble over his English, wished he could hear the sarcasm and dryness that annoyed the press and wished he could hear the affection that was showing in his eyes. Gazing at the other man he felt himself lean forward, eyes flicking from Esteban’s eyes to his lips, shyly meeting his gaze as Esteban leaned in as well. Closing his eyes, he waited for the inevitable, wanting to savour this moment.
…..
After a few seconds when nothing happened, he opened his eyes, jumping back in shock at the sight of Dan hovering in the doorway, one hand still raised from knocking, an embarrassed look on his face. Esteban, with his back now to Lance, was obviously saying something to Dan his hands gesturing towards the door, shoulders moving with the intensity of what he was saying. Dan held his hands out saying sorry and awkwardly back out of the room.
Despite the awkwardness, Lance let out a small giggle, huffing as well at his luck. Of course, his first kiss would be interrupted. Running a hand through his hair, he then pulled his phone out typing 'he has the worst timing.'
Esteban glared at the phone as if itself was the cause for the disruption. 'I’d better go then' Lance added.
Seeing Esteban’s face fall, he leaned in pressing a swift kiss to the Frenchman’s cheek, flushing slightly as he pulled back. Following Esteban to the door, he was tugged in for another quick hug before he opened the door. As he went to walk away Esteban caught his hand, causing Lance to pause and half turn back towards the other man. Esteban stated “thank you” once more before raising their hands and lightly brushing a kiss over Lance’s knuckles. Lance knew he a little squeak at that, shakily waving goodbye before wandering away feeling like he was walking on air.
………………………………………………………………………………..
Esteban’s POV
Stepping out of the shower Esteban wrapped a towel around his waist staring at his reflection in the steam-filled mirror noting the dark circles under his eyes that seemed to have formed in the last few hours. After the events of the race, and the fight with Max, and the journalists constant questions, not to mention the team debrief which turned into a lecture once the team were aware of the fight with Max in the FIA garage, he was sure he’d aged several years from stress. There was apparently a video circulating social media of the fight with Max which had caused the most grief with the team as they were concerned about him getting a further penalty for ‘unsportsmanlike behaviour.’ He hadn’t seen it yet and honestly, was in no hurry to do so. He hoped that his family hadn’t seen it, and he really hoped Lance hadn’t either.
Just the thought of the other man was enough to bring a smile to his face as he walked into the bedroom, checking the clock as he did. Lance was due to arrive any minute, so he quickly towelled himself dry, flinging the damp towel back into the bathroom and throwing his loose clothing into his suitcase in an attempt to tidy up. Once the room and himself looked presentable he dropped into the armchair, waking up his phone and wincing at the number of notifications showing on his lock screen. Dismissing most of the ones from social media, he half-heartedly replied to a couple of texts from his friends before locking his phone again, dropping his head back and staring at the ceiling.
He just wanted this season to be over, the last few races had felt extra draining and he wanted nothing more to be back home with his family, away from the world. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and he sprung from his seat, hurrying across the room.
Opening the door, his smile dropped slightly at the look in Lance’s eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was…disappointment? Signing a quick hello, he stepped aside to allow Lance in. This time a frown appearing on his face as Lance didn’t say anything back and stood stock still when Esteban tried to pull him for a hug. Backing away he placed his hands on Lance’s shoulders, searching the younger man’s face for clues on what was wrong.
“Hey, what’s up, what’s wrong?” he asked, forehead creasing as Lance evaded his gaze. Placing one hand on Lance’s jaw he gently tilted his face towards Esteban, asking again “please Lance, what’s wrong?”
Lance gave a small twitch of the lips and ducked under Esteban’s arms, creating a gap between them. Wordlessly he pulled his phone out and held it to Esteban whose stomach dropped as he took in what he was seeing. On the phone, he watched himself chase after Max and being shoved away.
He reached out, locking the phone sighing as he did so. Shifting his eyes back to Lance he stated, “this is nothing and besides he started it.”
To his surprise Lances face switched from one of annoyance and disappointment to one of anger.
Lance stepped forward glaring at Esteban while angrily signing at him, “You moron, what were you thinking! You can’t engage with that, what if you get into trouble for fighting!”
“woah woah baby, slow down…I can’t…woah wait….” Esteban tried to cut in, grabbing Lance’s hands and stopping him from continuing. To his surprise Lance wrenched his hands free and smacked Esteban on the shoulder, “You stupid idiot” he shouted, causing Esteban to flinch back in shock. Despite only knowing Lance for a few weeks he’d never known the other man to shout, it was rare for him to talk at all really.
Hands shaking from rage, Lance grabbed his phone, “YOU STUPID IDIOT! What if you get in trouble for fighting, what were you thinking?” He typed, thrusting the phone towards Esteban when he was done.
“I was defending myself, I had as much right to be there as he did” Esteban stated, not bothering with typing.
“Why did you go after him though, you antagonised him” Lance typed, stepping forward as Esteban stepped back glaring at each other now.
“he said I didn’t deserve my seat” Esteban spat out, turning away and walking onto the balcony. Taking deep breathes he tried to calm down, he didn’t want to say something he’d end up regretting. Sighing he wiped a hand over his face, glancing over his shoulder when he heard footsteps, and saw Lance hovering by the door. Twisting around, he reached a hand out, lip twitching upwards when Lance took it without hesitation. Gently tugging on his arm, he led them towards the chairs, keeping hold of Lance’s hand even when they were sat down, running his thumb over Lance’s knuckles.
“It’s dumb” he started, keeping his eyes locked on Lance’s as he spoke, “It’s stupid, I see it on social media all the time but coming from another driver...I just…ah it hurt…and…sometimes it feels like no one actually wants me around.” Feeling his eyes growing hot, he blinked rapidly, flicking his eyes around trying to dispel the incoming tears. Looking back at Lance he was surprised to see some anger still in his eyes but it was offset by a gentleness. Still Esteban flinched back slightly remembering the force behind the smack and wasn’t looking to repeat the experience. Lance’s eyes softened further, any trace of anger vanishing when he saw Esteban flinch, moving his other hand to cover their entwined ones, squeezing tightly before pulling his back and grabbing his phone.
'I'm not mad at you, that's a shitty thing to say, but I was just worried about you. I don’t want you to get in trouble.'
Chuckling lightly, Esteban went to take the phone from Lance who jerked it out of his reach, staring to type again.
'you deserve your seat just as much as he does and it doesn't matter what other people think. Besides I want you around.'
Feeling heat spreading through his chest and up into the roots of his hair, Esteban knew he'd turned a bright red as he reached out again and this time was able to pluck the phone from Lance, tossing it onto the table in front of them, and re-joining their hands. “I think I'm more inclined to listen to you" he stated, “and... I want you around as well" he finished a slight tremor in his voice as he admitted his feelings.
He watched as Lance pursed his lips, taking a deep breath as he stood up. Licking his lips, he moved to Esteban’s chair, slowing easing himself down so he was sat in the other man’s lap, winding his free arm around his neck. Esteban felt his breath hitch in shock at Lance's actions but re-arranged his arms, so he was hugging Lance around the waist, holding him close. Lance rested his forehead on Esteban’s and closed his eyes, Esteban's fluttering shut as well. They stayed like that for a little while, just being in each other’s presence, similar to that afternoon in the driver's room, but this held a quiet intimacy that neither had previously experienced.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Esteban opened his eyes again to find Lance's were also open. A deep blush was present on the Canadians face and Esteban felt unable felt to move his eyes away, admiring the swirls of green in Lance's eyes, the hazel tones holding a gentleness and softness reserved just for Esteban. Shifting, Lance brought his hands up to cup Esteban’s face, and he slowly leaned ever closer giving Esteban time to move away if he wanted. Instead, the Frenchman shifted forwards, meeting Lance's lips in the middle and tenderly pushing them together.
Breaking apart for a moment, Esteban ran his thumb over the Canadians now plump lips, taking in Lance’s lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. Freeing both hands, he signed as well as spoke. “will you go on a date with me?” he uttered softly, watching as Lance broke out into a grin before kissing him again, this time parting his lips against Esteban’s and running his tongue against Esteban lips, encouraging the other man to explore. Esteban’s hand moved to cup the back of Lance’s head, holding him close as they continued, tongues brushing against each other as they grew in confidence. Eventually pulling back he stated, slightly breathlessly, “was that a yes?”
“Yes,” Lance replied, “of course.”
Beaming, Esteban leaned in the peck Lance’s lips again before urging the younger man to stand up and gently leading him back into the hotel room and towards the bed. Settling himself back against the pillows he opened his arms gesturing for Lance to join him, “I thought this would be more comfortable” he stated, signing the few words that he knew. Lance needed no further encouragement and flopped down onto the bed beside Esteban, curling onto his side and wrapping an arm over the Frenchman’s chest, Esteban following suit and wrapping his arms around Lance holding him close and leaning down for another kiss. “I could get used to this” he whispered, feeling Lance grin under his lips. “Me too” he replied.