Chapter Text
Lando felt exhausted but content when he unlocked the front door and slipped into his house near the MTC. It was the end of another season, his third season in Formula 1. 23 races and 4 podiums later Lando was more than ready for a long winter break. He was in desperate need for relaxation. Looking back, it had been a good season for him and McLaren. After some difficulties at the beginning of the season, he started to get on well with Daniel and together they managed to secure P3 in the constructor’s championship once again. It was great. But a year with Daniel also meant a year without Carlos.
Lando dropped his suitcase in the hallway. He would probably be too lazy to unpack it for the next 2 weeks until he urgently needed something that was in there. But it was his well-deserved break and since he lived alone, nobody could be bothered by the unopened piece of luggage.
Exactly a year ago, after the last race in Abu Dhabi they assured the media and all their fans that Carlos’ move didn’t mean the end of their friendship. That nothing needed to change. That the fans would still get their “Carlando content”. That I will still get my “Carlando content” Lando had thought in that moment.
There was a part of him that had really believed that things between him and Carlos would stay the same. But he had also believed that Carlos would stay with him at McLaren, back when the Ferrari rumours surfaced. How naïve. Lando couldn’t help but think about it. He blamed it on the end of the 2021 season. Times like these always made him feel melancholic.
Things between him and Carlos had changed. Of course, the two of them were still friends. They met to play golf and had dinner together during race weekends. They still talked and they still got along well. But it wasn’t the same anymore. Less banter. Less closeness. No more teamwork. No shared hotel rooms. Lando had a hard time admitting it sometimes, but there was no doubt he missed Carlos.
Lando slipped out of his shoes and took off his coat. Damn, he wasn’t prepared for the British winter after having spent his last race week under the sun. A slight shiver ran down his spine. He made a mental reminder to crank up the heating tomorrow, since he was too tired to deal with it today. Instead, he trotted upstairs to literally fall into his bed and hide under the warm covers.
It was a bed he still didn’t share. A bed he still woke up in alone and the world was aware of that. Lando himself was painfully aware of that. After his three years in F1, interviewers had still not grown tired of asking him about his dating life. He hated those questions, because Lando felt like no matter what he said, people would overanalyse his answers. No matter what he said, people were not satisfied with his answers. Thinking about his dating life, the image of Carlos involuntarily flashed before his eyes.
Lando desperately tried to push away that mental imagine and deny that his brain made a connection between dating and Carlos.
He cursed under his breath before he buried his face into his pillow and let go of a silent scream. Fuck, he had to stop thinking about Carlos. About his warm eyes and his comforting smile. Or about the way his dark hair stuck to his forehead whenever he takes his helmet off, all sweaty and filled with adrenaline. No. Stupid Brain. Stop it!
Lando was ashamed to admit it, not like he would ever admit it, but he thought of Carlos way too much. Too much for it to be casual or just friendly.
He thought about Carlos during random times of the day. There were little bits and pieces that reminded him of their time together. But he also thought about Carlos at 3 a.m., when he was waking up from dreams he should not be having. Dreams that involved his old teammate and way too much naked skin. He also thought of the Spaniard in the morning, when his conscientiousness was not awake enough to stop the images from flooding his mind. Images and thoughts that normally didn’t help with his situation “down there”.
God, it was truly embarrassing. Why did he have to think about it now, when he just wanted to relax? Oh yeah, the end of the season melancholy of course.
‘Or maybe it’s the prospect of not getting to see Carlos much during the winter break that got you into this sorrow mood’ a voice inside Lando’s head said.
Perhaps it was even the fact that he felt so lonely in this apartment. With only one person he could think of, that could fill the void.
The Brit couldn’t suppress the thought for a short second. But that couldn’t be. No way.
A long sigh escaped his lips as he thought back to a moment during his first season that should have made his feelings for the Spaniard pretty obvious. Memories of him and Carlos and a moment he had titled Champagne Problem in his mind.
The instant the stewards announced Hamilton would get a penalty for his interference with Albon the whole McLaren garage erupted into cheers and applause. People in orange teamwear high-fived each other and hugged. Carlos had been waiting anxiously but now there was a bright smile on his face. A huge one even.
The air was pulsating. It was the first podium for the team since 2014. It was the first podium for Carlos. His whole life had been leading up to this moment. This was what he had worked for since he was just a little boy in karting. The moment was exhilarating. Caco and Rupert cheered loudly, patting Carlos on the back.
“You did it mate!”
“It’s a podium. It’s a freaking podium.”
Everything happened so fast. Carlos was swarmed by reporters. They wanted to know how this moment felt but the Spaniard was at a loss for words. Rupert dragged him along. Since Carlos missed the original ceremony, the team was having their own celebration.
Carlos was swallowed by a sea of people in orange. His team. Their team. He stepped onto the podium with a bottle of champagne and the trophy in his hand while everyone applauded and sang. The atmosphere was filled with pride and happiness and that’s when Lando approached the crowd.
Although Lando would have loved to get a podium himself, there was no way he would miss his teammate’s celebration. He was fair like that. A real gentleman some would say. He smiled and applauded and was genuinely happy for Carlos. How could he not be?
Lando saw the Spaniards face light up even more when he spotted him amongst all the other people. And before he knew it, Carlos pulled him up onto the podium next to him.
Lando was taken by surprise, bit didn’t complain. Their bodies were close, since there wasn’t much space and Carlos threw an arm around him, making their sides touch.
Their eyes met for a brief moment. Lando couldn’t hide his look of admiration for the older one and Carlos stared back with the same amount of emotion. Lando’s breath stocked for a second. Sparks flew. It was truly a moment for the history books.
After a dozen interviews Carlos was back at the McLaren garage to take more pictures. Henrik had positioned all of them next to each other and soon after his camera clicked repeatedly. The sound was swallowed by cheers that still hadn’t died down.
The euphoria was overwhelming. Lando felt it seep through his skin. Everyone was congratulation each other again and then it was time to finally pop the champagne. Carlos and Lando both holding a bottle.
They sprayed each other while their team laughed. The bubbly liquid drenched Lando’s clothes and hair - Carlos made sure of that but Lando got him back just as bad in return. Huge grins were spread out on their faces and although there was a bitter taste of the expensive champagne on his lips the moment tasted so sweet.
‘This could last forever’ the young Brit thought just as he emptied to remainder of the golden liquid onto the Spaniards hair, leaving him with an empty bottle.
Lando was prepared to head back into his driver's room and change out of his wet clothes, maybe let Carlos bask in this moment – his moment – a little bit longer when the Spaniard stopped in his tracks and opened his arms.
Lando’s eyes widened as Carlos walked towards him. This couldn’t be happening, could it? And before Lando could think about it any longer, Carlos pulled him in.
Lando could feel his strong arms wrap around his slimmer frame. They were both sticky from the champagne, their McLaren teamwear drenched and wet. Lando’s hair had become even more curly.
Carlos’ firm chest met his. The smile on his face grew even wider. The brown in his eyes radiated warmth. Lando’s heart hammered against his rib cage. He had never been so close to Carlos before.
Everyone else vanished. Henrik, Andreas, Zak and all the others. It was like Carlos and Lando were the only people that existed in this world.
Carlos loosened his grip so he could look at the younger one. It was a look Lando couldn’t decipher. His eyes seemed so full of something, something the Brit couldn’t quite understand, even though it was the same look that he was unknowingly giving Carlos.
The Spaniard’s hand lightly grazed his cheek, wiping away a drop of champagne. Lando’s body felt like it was on fire, his skin burning under the older one’s touch. His breathing came out in irregular huffs. He hoped desperately that his teammate didn’t pick up on what this closeness did to him.
And then, in a moment that made time stop, Carlos seemed to lean in, forgetting about all the people that surrounded them. Forgetting about their bosses and the cameras. Forgetting about the fact that they were just friends.
Lando was frozen on the spot. His heart was bursting. Carlos’ nose brushed his. They were looking at each other intensely.
Lando was waiting, observing, wondering if Carlos would close the distance between them and kiss him. Hoping that Carlos would kiss him. Only a few centimetres kept them apart.
For a second it really looked like Carlos would finally conquer those last centimetres. Lando’s eyes were about to flutter shut, his senses tingling. But then Carlos pulled away slightly, just making their foreheads touch. Like that was all he had ever intended to do.
“Thank you for sharing the podium with me” he whispered.
Lando swallowed hard and nodded.
“Anytime” he croaked.
And then the moment was over as quickly as it began. Carlos let go off him. The celebration came to an end. Everybody gushed about how they were such good friends. Friends. That’s all they were.
Of course, Carlos wasn’t going to kiss Lando. Carlos had a girlfriend. He would never cheat on her. Especially not with him. It was just a wholesome gesture between two teammates that got on very well.
But Lando couldn’t think straight for weeks. Maybe he had never thought “straight” in the first place. Deep down Lando wanted it to be more. So much more.
Maybe Lando’s feelings for the Spaniard would have died down a long time ago, if it weren’t for this Champagne Problem that cost him weeks of sleep and brought on years of pining and what ifs.
Thinking back to it now Lando could still taste the bitterness of the champagne and smell the scent of victory. He had memorised how it felt to have Carlos’ wet clothes stick to his. He hadn’t gotten drunk of the alcohol that day, but the moment still made him fell dizzy.
And as Lando was sprawled out on his bed, hiding under the soft covers, and thinking about his ex-teammate like that, his feelings for Carlos should have been obvious again.
Lando had spent 3 years crushing on Carlos. Spent a whole year missing him. And still, Lando refused to admit what that meant. Didn’t let himself dwell on it. Because he was scared, because it was hopeless anyway. But he also feared that one day, all of his supressed feelings would bubble to the surface. Because there was really no denying it: He was in love with Carlos.