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There's no qualms about it: Max Fewtrell loves his boyfriend. Cherishes him. Accepts his little gremlin quirks and supports him. Couldn't imagine his life without Lando.
But sometimes he also wants to catapult him full speed into the grandstands like a t-shirt cannon and make him somebody else's problem.
"I just-- it's a horse, Max." Lando says, for what may be the fifth time. Or the twentieth. "This isn't that kind of paddock."
"Yeah, mate, I get it. But you know how Daniel is about the whole..." he gestures vaguely, "America thing."
That just earns him a huff from where Lando's sat eating his lunch in hospitality. Max had tried to convince him that sitting on top of the table was rude but it had been a worthless effort. He'd taken his shoes off at least, clean socks and sat criss cross as he picks at the saddest looking protein bowl. Max feels somewhat bad about eating his club sandwich in front of the other, but Lando is apparently too caught up in this horse nonsense to complain about it.
Just one whiney topic at a time, it seems.
"Besides," Max adds, "I thought you liked horses. You took lessons when we were kids, yeah?"
He can see the massive inhale Lando takes. Oh no. He's gone and started a whole thing, hasn't he? His eyes briefly snap to the little dessert bar on the other side of the room. At this rate he's never gonna get to try the little American flag cupcakes.
"It isn't fair."
The words are breathed out on a shaky exhale and oh. Oh. Well, isn't this a double edged sword. Because he finally understands why his boyfriend is so upset. That's great-- he can work with that. Knowing the cause should in theory make this a lot easier. But at the same time, dear god is this not the place or time, and he is not the right person for this. But he doesn't have Carlos's number, doesn't think the man would answer him on Instagram either. And Daniel is doing... horse things? He isn't really sure. Press stuff.
But he's a good boyfriend, God damn it. When Lando had told him about this, wobbly-voiced and seventeen, Max had nodded along and promised Lando he didn't mind. Pretended he understood when he really didn't. Carlos coming into Lando's life had cleared some things up for him. There'd been a few occasions over the years where Max had comforted Lando over the phone or picked him up from someone else's house, still a bit out of it. But for the most part it had always been something Lando seemed to want to keep out of their relationship, and Max was too afraid of hurting him to ask much. He'd show his support in little ways, like getting Lando a Lego set he saw him eyeing at the store.
So he kind of doesn't wanna get this wrong. But christ is McLaren hospitality also not the place he wants to get it right.
"What's not fair, bub?"
That nickname feels normal enough for them. He can ease into this.
"Stupid Danny and his stupid horse. He gets all the fun."
"Well, ESPN has that golf long drive contest set up. Wanna go give that a shot after we eat?"
It's the perfect litmus test. Lando couldn't resist such an offer. But from what he knows of the other, softer version of his boyfriend, he has no patience for the sport. Max is a genius.
Lando whines his frustration long and loud, rocking back where he's sat near the edge of the table. He wobbles dangerously and dear god Max is an idiot. If Lando falls off this table and hurts himself under his watch, he won't have to worry about whether he can ever forgive himself. Carlos and Daniel would have his neck before then and oh god, Lewis. Lewis has called Lando his little brother even when he isn't small. He's gone and hurt Lewis Hamilton's little brother.
Said little gremlin catches himself and settles back just fine. Max can breathe. Fucking christ. But then Lando is uncrossing his legs and turning to slide off the table. He wobbles just a bit once his socked feet are on the ground but Max attributes that more to Lando's typical level of clumsy weirdo.
"Where we off to, Bob? Golf?" A man can dream.
"Horse."
That's all he gets before Lando is walking off with a purpose in his step, his... shoeless step, shoes and protein bowl forgotten but empty enough. Max sighs and snatches Lando's shoes from the chair next to him and hurries after him, feeling a bit dogshit about leaving their food for someone else to clean up. Not a good WAG look. But whatever.
They're horse-bound.
"Lando, could you please-- Lando, slow down, you don't have your shoes on." He calls after him as he catches up, voice a bit shrill from the concern, sue him. Quick little fucker. He catches Lando by a belt loop and hooks him, reeling him back like a particularly sulky cod.
"Don't need them."
"Are you going outside?"
He gets a look that essentially screams 'are you stupid?'
"The horse isn't inside, is it Max?"
"Then you need shoes."
Another long suffering whine that bleeds into a groan. Lando even stomps for good measure but the combination of carpeted floor and socked foot really take away the punch of it. Max has to take a breath and think through this one a bit. He's never really dealt with this side of Lando when he's anything besides a little sad and/or a lot sleepy. This Lando is plenty full of energy. Unfortunately that energy seems to be taking the form of a horse jealousy tantrum. He lets go of the belt loop and takes one of Lando's hands instead. Surprisingly, there isn't much protest. He starts leading them down the hall, mapping out in his head what route can take them back to Lando's driver room with as little public view as possible.
"Where are we going?" Lando asks as they round a corner. "The horse isn't this way."
"We aren't going to the horse because someone won't put his shoes on."
Very suddenly his hand is empty and Max's first instinct is that Lando is going to take off. He remembers him being a bit of a runner when they were kids, Lando's poor mum having to ask his if they'd seen where Lando had darted off to among all the RVs around the race park. But this Lando just... goes limp, really. Right to the ground. Cross-legged once more, but with his arms mirroring it in a pout that some part of Max's heart stumbles over.
"Lando. What are you doing."
"I'm stroking."
Max doesn't have a response to that. It's quiet a moment before Lando continues.
"George said we're a union and unions have strokes."
"Mate, I think he meant a strike. Like against the FIA."
He's leveled with one hell of a glare. Okay, guess he'll go fuck himself. He sighs and squats down. He needs the workout anyway, he's been skipping leg day. They're in a hallway. A back hall, sure, but there is still the mild worry of how odd this would look to anyone coming through.
"Baby," and it feels strange to call him that now, but natural nevertheless, "I get that you're upset. But you really need to wear shoes if we go outside. Shoes on and off we get, yeah?"
A nod. A fucking nod. A long pause before it, and it's tiny, but he gets a nod. Then, a request:
"Yours?"
It would be strange for any other pair. Hell, it really still isn't exactly normal. But it's natural enough for them and their shared wardrobe of "borrowed" clothes. He's got his favorite pair on-- white with lovely hunter green details. This doesn't cause him any hesitation though, because Lando is just as sneaker obsessed as he is and really beggars can't be choosers anyway. He lets himself go to the ground the rest of the way and yeah. Yeah they're too professional athletes sitting on the floor of a back hallway at the Circuit of The America's, trading shoes.
It's very them.
God, he really shouldn't be getting sappy over trading sneakers.
He takes his off, making quick work of the laces before sliding Lando's on. They're tied loose enough it isn't a struggle. He scoots his own pair over to his boyfriend, who's switched from cross cross to having his knees tucked up towards his chest, picking at the carpet with one of his hands. He makes no move for the shoes. Okay.
"I've got you, bub." He says, voice soft
Lando is thankfully pretty compliant with the process, lifting his feet when asked and sitting patiently as Max does up the laces. He's on the second shoe when he notices Lando has been playing with his hair, gentle and quiet. Whatever keeps him that way is fine with Max, really. He finishes up the bunny ears and leans up to place a quick kiss to Lando's cheek. The giggle that gets has him fighting his own chuckle as he stands back up. Without thinking he hooks his hands under Lando's arms and pulls him up with him. There's a moment once they're both stood up where Lando rocks forward, head dropping to Max's shoulder, and he's struck for possibly the millionth time by how much he loves this strange little gremlin. Lando mumbles his thanks into Max's hoodie before taking a step back.
Their hands find one another immediately as Max leads him back down the hall. It's a short walk to tinted glass doors that take them back out into the paddock proper. Max has to think a bit on where he last saw Daniel on the stupid horse, but he swings a left and talks quietly in Lando's ear about how he thinks Daniel actually looks quite like that horse (a little sparse in the mane) and drags delighted little noises out of his boyfriend as they dodge cameras and fans.
It's when Max spots Daniel, a walking beacon of the states, without a horse in sight that he begins to worry all over again.
"Danny!" Lando calls out as soon as they find the man, who thankfully isn't swarmed by cameras now that the spectacle seems to be over. He quickly finds them in the crowd and Max can see the moment Daniel realizes what sort of Lando they've got on their hands. It's a supernatural sort of perception that Max is consistently astounded by. His hand is suddenly empty once again, but there isn't much to worry about when Lando's destination is obvious.
He trails after, unhurried because honestly Daniel breaking the horse news to Lando sounds like a much easier route here. And he can spot that moment, too, the way Lando's shoulders droop and he stops bouncing on his heels. Daniel's making apologies by the time he joins them.
"The horse needed a break from the crowd, sweetheart." Daniel soothes, and Max thinks he should probably find it weird to hear someone else calling his boyfriend that. Instead, he's just relieved that Lando is finally with someone who can handle this. He can see the way Lando's body lights up with tension again and he steps closer, placing a hand on the back of Lando's neck and scratching there in what he hopes is soothing. Lando leans into him in a way Max thinks he isn't even aware of.
"But I didn't even get to pet it." Lando whines, scuffing his heel across the concrete in a way that threatens more stomping. Max tries not to cringe at the abuse to his sneakers. Daniel sighs and nods towards a door behind them.
"C'mon bug, it'll be quiet in here."
It is. Some sort of McLaren... storage room? Lots of boxes, but the door isn't glass and has a lock that Daniel uses once they're all in. Vaguely cramped. Daniel goes to speak but Lando beats him to it.
"This isn't fair. Max said we could come see the horse."
Well. Him, bus, under, as the saying goes.
"It's just too loud right now for him, Lan, he needed a break." Daniel tries the reasoning again, but Max can see through it enough to know that that horse is absolutely not on this property anymore. Trailered back to a barn, he's sure. Unfortunately, Lando sees through it, too.
"But-- but I like horses and I wanted to pet him and touch his ears and," Lando has to pause to breathe, "I never get to do the fun stuff."
"We can do plenty of fun stuff. How about we go have a lie down before the presser. We can think about some fun stuff to do."
"I don't want to lie down!"
Ah, there's the stomping again. More effective with Max's sneakers. He knows Lando well enough to not offer physical contact again. Daniel doesn't either.
"Lando, bug, I think you'll feel a lot better if you do. We don't need to nap, we can just be calm and talk a bit, have some time together."
Max really hopes the box Lando kicks doesn't have anything too absurdly expensive in it, because three square kicks land in quick succession. He feels a bit like an intruder on the scene, like this is something between the two that Max doesn't need to be here for. He tries to dismiss the feeling as Daniel sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Max wonders vaguely where the cowboy hat went. Not important. Lando is--
Not doing well.
He's stumbling through words and grabbing at his own shirt in rough handfuls of fabric, yanking and flailing. His shoulder bangs into a shelf. There aren't tears yet, but there's an obvious threat. Daniel steps forward, breaking the unspoken no contact agreement to place a hand on Lando's arm. It's a move that earns him a weak punch to the center of the chest.
"No! I don't-- it's not fair!"
"I know, Lan." Daniel speaks quiet and... sad. Profoundly so. And suddenly Max thinks he's missed something. Daniel doesn't try to restrain Lando, just sets calm hands on his arms and presses their foreheads together. "I know. I don't like it either."
"It's not fair. You can't."
Yeah. He's missing something here.
"I'll be around. I wont-- it's not forever."
Oh.
Oh, okay. Yeah. That makes sense. He hadn't... he'd never considered that. It feels stupid now, really. Daniel's retirement had been sad news and he figured Lando must have been at least a bit upset about it since he knows how long it took for them to really start getting one another and how they really hit it off once they did. But he hadn't considered this version of Lando. This Lando, who lost Carlos first and is losing Daniel now. He gets the feeling this isn't the first time this meltdown has happened.
"Can't say that." Lando's voice shakes. The tears finally pour over and Max can't stop himself anymore. He steps in behind Lando and wraps his arms around him, pressing Lando back into his chest. His head settles on his boyfriend's shoulder, and yeah, they're all really close right now. Sappy and gross, but the two of them have been grosser and he can imagine the same goes for Lando and Daniel.
"I can. And it wouldn't matter anyway, because you're way too cute of a little shit to leave. I'm hooked on you, I'm afraid. They'd have to chase me out of the paddock."
That gets a giggle from Lando, wet and strained but a giggle nonetheless. Max turns his head enough to press a kiss to his cheek.
"No, really." Daniel insists. "They'd have to beat me off with sticks. I'm sneaky, too, just couldn't stand to be away from you. You'll be sick of me."
Max has loved Lando's laugh for as long as he can remember. It's awkward and open, so very Lando. And it bursts out into the little penguin huddle they've made.
"Already sick of you and your dumb horse."
"Just a second ago you were jealous of my horse."
"Max said it looks like you."
That bus just keeps on coming. He scoffs.
"Can't tell you anything. Little snitch." He mumbles it into Lando's shoulder, breath tickling him and making him squirm. Good. Payback. He'll steal his hat later, too.
"Well, it was a pretty handsome horse."
Daniel punctuates the sentence with a grin and a hand coming up to ruffle Lando's curls before taking a step back, leaving just Max wrapped around Lando. He doesn't move. Lando definitely still needs this. Yeah. Lando needs this, for sure. Not him and his guilt over not having realized the situation sooner.
He should ask Daniel some things. And Lando. Because fuck, he might not exactly get it but there's plenty of things about Lando he doesn't get. He's notably abnormal. It's sort of their thing.
Yeah. He's gonna get better at this.