Archive of Our Own

“Aaaah…!”

With a deep sigh, Lando flopped down on the couch. With the last of his strength, he kicked the slippers off his feet, so that they flew across the living room and landed — guessing from the direction and the sound — somewhere near his private racing altar. Although he had taken it as his resolution to get his natural tendency for chaos under control a little more in the new year, he really didn’t care at the moment.

Cause for one thing, it wasn’t New Year’s yet, not even Christmas, to be precise, but only mid-December - and that meant that the validity period for good resolutions had not yet started. And secondly, this was his house and he could basically be as messy as he wanted here-

…okay, fair enough, the second one was more of an excuse, true. But at least the first reason eased his conscience enough for Lando to just leave the slippers where they landed and not get up to get them, like he would have to do starting from next month. A part of him suspected that he should probably better start already now with it though; like, to get used to it in advance, because the changeover on New Year’s morning would be all the harder otherwise - however, now really wasn’t the time to be orderly and disciplined! Now it was quality-time!

Never in his career had the young Briton been as looking forward to the off-season as over the past three weeks, and now that it was finally here, it had to be enjoyed to the fullest, right? Otherwise, what would be the point…?

Ha!

Deeply satisfied with his inner reasoning, Lando pulled his legs up on the couch as well; once more re-arranging the pillow in his back and making himself comfy in his sweatpants and the cozy hoodie that he had gotten for his birthday a few weeks before. Briefly closing his eyes and soaking up the comfort of the moment.

That’s the life!, he thought and the outlook that the next few days would all be like this, so comfortable and peaceful and absolutely stress-free, made him even happier, letting a contented smile appear on his face.

As much as he loved his job — and always was grateful for that he was actually able to call his greatest passion his job; how rare and crazy was that, after all…?! —, the prospect of a few weeks of distance to the Formula 1 circus now seemed like a gingerbread-sweet dream.

Not having to train as hard and be in peak condition as usual; just jogging and light weights every now and then to hold on to a certain level, but without the dreaded neck-training harness. Without sports scientific measurements and data comparisons at every step.

Not having to be constantly super-focused and deliver for a few weeks, in the fight for the last but no less important championship points.

Just enjoying the idleness of the holidays and having a good time, just like everyone else in regular jobs did. Eating well without suspiciously tracking every calorie, spending the whole day in forbiddenly comfortable clothes and simply doing what you feel like doing - without a thousand appointments that pre-determine the day from getting up to going to bed and leave hardly any room for free time-

For something as ordinary as simply watching a movie without being on an intercontinental flight, for example!

Pardon, Lando corrected himself in his thoughts and opened his eyes again when, as if on cue, he suddenly heard footsteps coming out of the kitchen: Watching a movie with his boyfriend, that is!

“That good, hmm?”, Carlos asked with a smirk (…which let those adorable dimples show up in his cheeks) when he discovered the younger one so sprawled on the sofa with such relief. With careful steps, he came over to him, balancing a tray with two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits in his hands.

The sight alone made Lando’s grin grow even wider. “Oh definitely!”

His mouth watered impatiently as he watched his friend set the tray down in front of him on the small coffee table, next to the little Advent-wreath, on which the three candles for the third week of Advent were properly lit - all pretty much un-burnt-down yet, due to the fact that he hadn’t  even been home until three days ago, but had been stuck in a monstrous triple header-

But that didn’t matter.

Lando’s heart was flowing over from Christmas warmth — or lovingness, or whatever — when Carlos handed him his mug, which was decorated almost as much with chocolate sticks, whipped cream, and sprinkles as they had done it at their Huski Chocolate Challenge back in the days. Undoubtedly a real sugar bomb that would cause both Jon and Rupert to throw their hands up in horror if they knew that their protégés were taking such stuff in.

But even sweeter than the steaming cacao did the kiss taste that Carlos pressed on his boyfriend’s lips, already puckered in longing expectation, when the Spaniard sat down next to him as well - and even though it was only a small peck, it once again reminded them both of what they had been forced to cut back on over the past few weeks. What they had missed, and how much they had to catch up with in terms of closeness and intimacy!

So that Lando — as soon as they both had taken a first sip and then put their cups down again — immediately nestled unabashedly into Carlos’ side.

“And now even better…”, the younger one sighed contentedly as he snuggled up against the awfully old-fashioned, but also awfully comfortable v-neck that Carlos was wearing - who, in turns, endured the spontaneous cuddle-attack with pleasure. He just wrapped his arm around his cariño and pulled him closer as well, with a little laugh that vibrated in his chest - and Lando was finally really home.

Training-, dieting- and racing-breaks were one thing, but it was mainly because of this that he had been looking forward to the off-season so much: To eventually be able to spend undisturbed quality-time with Carlos. As the lovers that they were.

Their relationship was no longer a secret in their personal environment and a few fellow drivers also knew about it. But whenever they were in public, the two rather kept a friendly distance from each other - for safety reasons: Even if they were now absolutely sure that it was not a short-lived thing between them — not just a sweet dream that wouldn’t last in reality —, they nevertheless didn’t want their relationship to become public knowledge, at least not for now. Didn’t want to face the pressure that would inevitably follow, the onslaught of press and fans who, even if they might mean it well, would lunge on them like piranhas.

Being a public figure of sorts was exhausting enough for them as individuals, and at times it felt like their private life had turned into an all-you-can-eat buffet for the whole world to take things from as they pleased. And then they should voluntarily put the last bit that they had managed to keep to themselves up to now, their sweet retreat, onto the table as well, for everybody to judge it, evaluate it, thinking they knew it all? Nah, rather not, thank you!

They just didn’t feel ready for that step yet, as it was one that you couldn’t take back anymore. So that they had agreed to rather protect their relationship from the public a little longer.

Unfortunately, that in deduction meant that they didn’t get to spend much time together throughout the season.

In addition to the summer break, there were only the off-weekends, which though were becoming increasingly rare since the FIA (somehow) had got the idea to always add another race and another and another to the next calendar. And since they, even if there was no race scheduled for a week, still had other commitments with their teams, who also unfortunately weren’t based in the same country since Carlos’ move to Ferrari. So that the two could count the weeks in which they actually managed to enjoy some time together on one hand.

Flying back and forth for half a day when you already had appointments in another country the next morning just didn’t really make sense, even with private jet sponsoring partners.

So wether they liked it or not, they had to settle for virtual togetherness via video call most of the time - and for the evening hours during race weekends, when all the hustle and bustle of the day was over. Sometimes, they could even stay with each other until morning, depending on whether Caco and Mark had been able to arrange that they coincidentally got rooms next to each other again whenever their teams stayed at the same hotel. Which was surely better than nothing and also, there were more chances for this again, due to the fading Covid measures - but nonetheless, these opportunities happened far too rare for both of their tastes.

But the prospect to now be able to wake up alongside — together with! — Carlos for the next time and even have him to himself the whole day after, without teams and press and fans and whoever else could occupy him, brought a deeply satisfied smile to Lando’s face once again on this wintry afternoon.

Long live the off-season! - and especially this one, because this was going to be their first real Christmas together as a couple. The first one had been thwarted by Covid, and also last year their teams had asked them to limit their contacts over the holidays as much as possible and to not travel more than absolutely necessary - which translated to something like “Stay with your ass at home, because if you get sick you endanger not only our whole next season, but also your seat!”.

But another year and three vaccinations later, here they finally were, together in Lando’s new, though still somewhat bare home; and nothing and nobody would be able to separate them any time soon and prevent them from enjoying their first proper Christmas together - and neither from having all those awful sugar bombs in front of them, Lando thought contentedly, stuffing another cookie into his mouth full of satisfaction as the film started.

They had chosen ‘Love Actually’ for this afternoon - well, that is, Carlos had suggested it because, according to the Spaniard, that film was just a must-have for Christmas, whereas Lando, who’d actually rather have wanted to see Harry Potter, his comfort series, had first complained loudly about the fact that it was sooooo kitschy - whereupon Carlos had replied that it wasn’t at all, but romantic!

At that, Lando had surrendered with a theatrical sigh — “Yeah, fine. Let’s watch that one then, if you wish…!”  — and had handed the remote control to his friend with an exaggeratedly generous expression to his face, as if he had just done him the greatest favor of all-

While he in fact actually quite liked the film himself.

He had seen it with his family for the first time a few years ago, when it had first come out, and  had instantly fallen in love with the interwoven storytelling - although it was a bit cheesy though. He still disagreed with Carlos on that regard. Definitely too cheesy in the eyes of a thirteen-year-old to admit that he liked it, even; and also now, at over twenty, still a bit too much to voluntarily admit that he had watched at it several more times ever since. Three times already during the lonely Covid-Christmas-time of 2020-

But wasn’t exactly that also the charm of Christmas, after all? That cozy feel-good atmosphere, the knowledge that everything will turn out just fine…?

At least that was what Lando liked so much about this film: That in the end, no matter how emotional and sometimes heartbreaking it was in between, all the storylines somehow found their way and came to a happy ending - or at least to a merry Christmas.

Especially the plot about Natalie and the prime minister appealed to him. Because even if he would be careful not to ever let that slip to anyone, but this part reminded him a bit of Carlos and himself - because all people around them had probably already sensed it, whereas they both had realised it only much later that that what they were feeling for each other after two years of team-camaraderie went far beyond a normal friendship. That they loved each other.

And also their first kiss had been similar - the real first one, not the embarrassing attempt at the McLaren farewell party for Carlos…! They hadn’t been caught on stage at a school play though, but by Lando’s family, when the Spaniard had suddenly appeared at the door and kissed him on the porch of his childhood home, his hair damp from the snow and Lando in that hideous Christmas elf sweater.

That’s why Lando liked this scene the most and was dying for it, shoving the biscuits into his mouth at an ever-increasing pace as the grand finale approached -

But unfortunately, he wasn’t granted the pleasure to see it that evening: Because suddenly, in the middle of the famous declaration of love with the painted signs, ‘to me, you are perfect’ and so on - the film was interrupted just as abruptly as everything went dark around them.

Luckily his mother had organized the advent wreath for him this year, because Lando had neither the time nor a knack for Christmas decorations (…or decorations at all!) when the season lasted so long. But thanks to Mama Norris, the three candles on the coffee table were giving Carlos and him at least some light, whereas the small lamp next to the television and the fairylights on the Christmas tree (…also a work of his mother) and all the other electrical devices in the house suddenly had given up as well, just like the TV.

It took a shock second, then Lando understood what was going on; at the same moment that Carlos spoke out the magic words: “…a power blackout?!”

Which made the younger groan in frustration. “Oh c’mon, seriously…?!”

It wasn’t as if these things didn’t just occur every once in a while, like, one or two times per year or so, hard to tell when you were never home; and the government had also warned that, in consequence of the current energy crisis, the chances could slightly increase for this winter - but why exactly now?!

Unwilling to believe (or accept) the circumstance, Lando frantically pressed every button on the remote control, as if he could turn the power back on and get the TV working again only through his willpower, so that he could enjoy his favorite scene - but of course it didn’t work like that. The screen stayed just as dark as the room around them.

With a sigh, the younger gave up and let himself flop back against the couch, carelessly dropping the useless remote at his side. “And now?”

Carlos next to him grinned. “Hey, does that mean that you maybe not disliked the movie so much, cariño?” - whereupon the said only gave an incomprehensible growl, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I just don’t know what we should do now…”, he mumbled. Of course, he knew from his memory that power outages luckily never lasted really long in his country, but were usually repaired in half an hour, at most an hour - although he had no idea if that standard was still held over the holidays as well. But even if - right now, already that was too long for him. He wanted to watch the happy endings!

“Wow, two years together and you already find it that boring with me?”, Carlos teased him, nudging him with his elbow in an attempt to cheer him up - but not very successfully, sadly. It only made Lando shake his head at an instant, vehemently protesting:

“No of course not!” - cause he really didn’t mean it like that! “But…” He sighed unhappily and his voice dropped suddenly, almost sheepishly, as he explained: “It’s Christmas after all. Or almost. Our first Christmas really together. And… it should be something special, right…?”

His eyes flickered up to Carlos’ ones for help - and how he was sitting there, dejectedly shrugging his shoulders and looking at him with wide eyes, the younger one gave off such a picture of misery for the Spaniard that he could not help but instinctively reached for his hand with a sigh, pressing it sympathetically, before curtly pulling him all the way in. Wrapping him in a comforting embrace.

Luckily Lando let him. As much as he still sometimes liked to play it tough because of his inner insecurities, he now seemed grateful for the proverbial shoulder to lean on and that Carlos didn’t make fun of him. That he didn’t find it too trivial or childish that this was so important to him-

But, how could he? Of course, the older one understood what his boyfriend meant. Christmas just really was such a thing; such a fixed point every year, which was a topic in all small talk from November on (“And, what are you doing / eating / wishing / ... for Christmas?”) - and somehow also a milestone when you spend it together with your partner for the first time. All the more if it was your first relationship in general!

And even if Carlos himself would have been content if they just continued to chill here on the couch, sipping their cups empty in the candlelight and eating more biscuits until whenever the light came back on again— because time alone with Lando closed spending was always special to him, since they only got so little of it —, he still wanted more than anything his boyfriend to be happy, too. Every day of the year, but especially on a ‘special’ day like (almost) Christmas.

So, while they were sitting there and he comfortingly let his hand wander up and down over Lando’s spine, ruffling the hairline at the back of his neck and absentmindedly playing with the already slightly long curls there, Carlos frantically racked his brain for an idea that would be a worthy replacement for the film - and he found it much quicker than he thought, precisely due to the keyword ‘film’:

“Oh, I know something!”, he exclaimed and when he immediately looked down at Lando in triumph, the said’s eyes by his shoulder were already so full of hope and curiosity — Hmm…? — that Carlos could no longer hold back what had just occurred to him; didn’t build a dramatic ramp for his idea, but blurted it out straight away:

“We could write love letters!”, he announced, beaming broadly-

But the euphoria that he felt over the idea didn’t instantly infect the younger one as well. Quite the contrary, Lando seemed rather… confused:

“…love letters?”, he just repeated with a frown, apparently half-what expecting that he had misheard something and that Carlos would correct him - but when that didn’t happen and Lando realised that he had in fact understood him correctly and that that was seriously what he’d meant, he shook his head in irritation.

“Carlos, it’s not Valentine’s Day, it’s advent!”

Which was true, touché, but the Spaniard was undeterred. “Yes, but Christmas is still the feast of love! Like they must have said it twenty times in the film!” He nodded vaguely in the direction of the TV, which unfortunately still didn’t show any mercy and spontaneously started working again, no matter how hard Lando tried to summon it. The screen just stayed dark.

Traitor!, the younger thought sulkily.

“And just like in the film, we’re gonna do it. Like Mark for Juliet”, Carlos continued unwaveringly. “Write down what we appreciate about each other and what we feel!”

He was really fired up about it now, burning even more with excitement the more he talked about it. However, the spark still didn’t really want to jump over onto the young Briton in his arms.

“Of course we don’t have to do that”, Carlos therefore quickly added. “If you don’t feel like it or if it's too-… I don’t know, too cliché or too cheesy or something for you, then that’s okay too, of course! But… I think it could actually be quite nice. You know, to have something for the time when we don’t get to see each other that much…” - cause they both were aware that this would inevitably be the case soon enough again. The next season was — holiday-break now or not — pretty much on the doorstep and, despite the change in the sporting regulations, it would probably not be much different than the previous years on that regard. Rather even worse, with again one more race scheduled than this year.

And while he actually found the idea borderline cheesy, Lando had to admit that he understood what Carlos was on about. And also that it indeed was kind of a sweet thought to be able to walk into the hotel room after a long day of meetings and interviews and other appointments that barely gave you a minute to catch your breath, and open a letter where Carlos assured him how much he loved him. How he looked forward to the next time they had a few days just for each other.

A letter - that was something different than a quick love you before going to sleep on WhatsApp, and not just because of the missing emojis. Although Lando valued these messages very much and could not go to sleep in good conscience until they had said goodnight, a handwritten letter was much more personal. Probably the closest they — in the involuntary distance — would come close to a spoken “I love you”. A bit like they would store away one in advance, to bring out whenever you needed it.

Yes… Lando had to admit that he paradoxically liked the idea more with every blink that he thought about it.

“Okay”, he so agreed without further ado - which surprised himself just as much as Carlos, who just looked back at him in visible astonishment; had certainly expected a no - but the surprise really only lasted for the famous shock second, then the Spaniard had already switched and beamed down at him with that very special smile of his, glowing with affection as well as enthusiasm. “We need paper!”

Even if that meant giving up his comfy place in Carlos’ arm and getting off the couch, Lando —without even grumbling — scrambled to his feet and went to get some from the printer upstairs. In the same go, he also grabbed two pens from the pen cup on his desk, which — after a quick test — both were still functioning, yay! - then they were good to go:

Carlos took up position at the coffee table to write in the light of the advent wreath, while Lando spontaneously chose his gaming room. This meant that he had to run up the stairs again though, but at least he would be alone up there and would not feel like he was being watched, as inevitably if he sat directly opposite Carlos on the other side of the low coffee table…!

No, no, no, no, absolutely no - if he was going to write this letter, he needed at least to be able to do it in peace!

Luckily Carlos didn’t mind that - only when Lando wanted to take his smartphone upstairs, he intervened: “Ah, ah, ah, ah- that stays here!”

Before the younger one even knew, he — having already been kneeling on the carpet, ready to write — was back on his feet and by him in no time. Where he curtly took the device from his puzzled boyfriend’s hand and put it back on the counter. “Don’t cheat and just look something up on the internet!”

Lando looked at him perplexed. “It’s not cheating if I found something I do really like about you-”

Yes, it is!, said Carlos’ raised eyebrows. “I’m sure you can think of something on your own - or at least I hope so!”

His smirking remark was a mixture of mischievous and conciliatory, but the younger didn’t respon to it.

“And who can guarantee me that you won’t cheat?”, he instead asked back - but he could have spared himself that:

The almost offended look that Carlos gave him was answer enough - it was clear that the Spaniard wouldn’t need to search the internet for the best vows of love. Not only was he definitely the more romantic of the two of them, but he was also still five years older. There hadn’t been any smartphones in his school days, so he had certainly still sent out little notes on paper during a lesson and had experience with… such stuff.

“Fair enough…!”, Lando grumbled and reluctantly left his phone behind as he made his way upstairs to his work / streaming / …room with a desk! Just threw the device one last longing look out of the door frame, hoping for a flash of genius; for a saving, unbeatable argument with which Carlos would allow him to take it with him… - but he couldn’t think of any. At least nothing except the obvious one - and so, wether he liked it or not, he had to go upstairs alone.

Rather ‘not liked it’, to be honest. And oh, how he did not like it!

With every step, Lando regretted even agreeing to the idea more. Was mad at himself for that he had not seen this coming, the problem with the phone. If he had, he would have certainly not agreed to do this!

Not because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to think of anything to write to Carlos without doing a Google research. Quite the contrary, there was a lot that he loved about his boyfriend: His caring nature, for example; his pleasantly calm aura and how he was just there when he needed him; how he always managed to cheer him, Lando, up again and give him courage when he was suffering from a bad day in terms of self-doubt.

And to write these things down on paper would also be far less awkward than saying it to his face - but that exactly was the problem: Lando just didn’t know how to write them, in the literal sense of the word:

Without his phone, he was struggling a lot more than Carlos reckoned, as the Spaniard had no clue about that he had dyslexia. The new technology was really a blessing in that respect: Thanks to autocorrect, nobody had to notice that his brain had problems with sorting the letters - but now, this blessing seemed more like a curse to Lando which suddenly caught up with him again. Caught up with him again with full force.

As soon as he grumpily had slumped onto his gaming chair and rolled up to the table — luckily there was still enough light coming in from outside through the side window —, what he had feared came true: Writing the letter would be an absolute cramp .

He already failed after less than a whole line at the word “appreciate” - or as he wrote it, “apriceate”. Even Lando recognised that that looked just utterly wrong.

Frustratedly, he pulled out a new sheet of paper — luckily he had at least thought about that and had taken a whole stack with him! — and used the other as a scrap sheet, to try out first on if he wasn’t sure. But the more spelling variations he tried, the more alien the words looked to him - and the longer he stared at them, trying to identify the correct variant, the more the letters were clowning about before his eyes. Mixing all together into a wild potpourri that made no sense anymore, refusing to be put in order even halfway satisfactorily.

And although Lando was aware that that wasn’t possible, he nevertheless felt like they were doing it on purpose. As if they jumped away from him again and again just when he had the feeling that he could grab them; as if they wanted to mock him - you can’t get us, can’t get us! — and found it funny to see how he became more and more insecure.

How the paper was beginning to deform under his sweaty hand and how his hold on the pen was tightening, as if it was a sword and the only thing he could use to defend himself against evil monsters on his dangerous mission-

Which was ridiculous:

He wasn’t on a mission like a hero in one of his video games. He was just sitting up here, in his own house, writing a letter to his boyfriend. And yet, this seemingly so simple task challenged him more than anything ever before.

…wasn’t that ironic? He regularly hurtled over racetracks all around the world with 300 km/h - and couldn’t write a correct sentence in his own mother tongue. What a hero, indeed!

Unfortunately, his self-pity didn’t soften fate either. Neither sent him a saving grace through the window, no matter how many times he looked outside for help, nor miraculously made his problems go away for five minutes.

The letters stubbornly refused to cooperate with him, and by the time Carlos called from downstairs: “I’m done, what about you?”, Lando had already used up eight sheets — started writing on them and then given up again — and was on the verge of tears.

“Yeah… almost!”, he called back hoarsely, hoping that over the distance of the stairs you couldn’t hear the lump that was stuck in his throat - nor the panic that was welling up inside him now that he was still at only about halfway, if at all. Over all the back-and-forth with the spelling, he had completely lost sight of what he initially wanted to say to Carlos; and what he had written so far suddenly read rather hollowly.

But unfortunately, he didn’t have the time left to think of something better and to start all over again.

So he just finished the letter to the best of his ability, writing down the first things that came to his mind and as concentrated as possible - but of course he was aware that there would still be mistakes, most likely quite a lot, even! Mistakes that he just didn’t — couldn’t — see; and inevitably Lando felt like he was at school again when he finally came padding down the stairs in his thick Christmas socks and unavoidably handed Carlos, who was already waiting for him by the lowest step, his letter.

He was already ashamed when he saw how happy the said was about it and couldn’t at all enjoy the kiss the Spaniard placed on his cheek with a “Merry Christmas, cariño!” - nor — when they shortly afterwards were sitting together on the couch in the living room and reading their letters in the light of the Advent wreath — properly focus on the kind words that Carlos had written to him:

The fact that he loved his smile because it was so contagious and he always had to smile himself then, for example, it said in his beautiful, curved handwriting. In general, how he always made him laugh with the weirdest nonsense and how he brought out his own funny, relaxed side with such a felt playful ease which he, Carlos, sometimes searched for in vain in himself. That generally everything felt easier when they were together.

Also his enthusiasm and dedication to everything he did - including the kind of dedication when the two of them were alone, as Carlos had noted with a very un-Christmas-y, naughty wink smiley in brackets behind before getting serious again:

That he was so straight-forward and not a person who twisted themselves into a pretzel just to please others.

His sometimes biting, but endearing sense of humor.

The way that they still, despite Lando’s latest growth spurt, just fit perfectly when they hugged, with his head under Carlos’ chin and his — more muscular, yes — back but still fitting exactly between the older one’s arms...

Lando read all these things and forgot them again in the same instant. Couldn’t concentrate on them at all, because his whole perception was completely on the author of these lines, who was sitting on the couch not even a meter away from him and was also engrossed in reading. He couldn’t help but tried to pay attention to whatever reaction on Carlos’ face, no matter how small, that would give away what he thought of his letter. Whether he just ignored the mistakes or maybe didn’t even notice them- …okay, that was rather unlikely since his boyfriend, despite his heavy accent that always instantly gave away that English wasn’t his first language, was not only incredibly well with words, but also quite fit in spelling and grammar - in contrast to himself.

So it was probably only a matter of time before Carlos would notice the frequent typos; and this knowledge, together with the uncertainty of when the time would come, made Lando suddenly feel much too warm in his hoodie. Making him break out in a sweat just from the inner tension. He listened and peered so hard over the edge of his own paper for every little movement of his opposite, that his nerves were on edge after a very short time - and his reaction was correspondingly irritated when Carlos suddenly for real showed a reaction; even if it was just a breath that was a little louder than normal:

“What?!”

Carlos looked up, startled. “N-nothing”, he protested out of reflex, but the piercing gaze of his friend, who suspected, feared, knew that there was something (and also what it was), made him falter. With a sigh, the older one glanced at the letter, visibly squirming around the next few words. “I- I just thought… if you didn’t want to do this, you could have also just said so…”

A punch in the stomach would probably have hurt less.

Less hurt than that one sentence, which confirmed exactly what Lando had somehow already known, of course: That there was indeed a bunch of mistakes in his text. That didn’t really come as a surprise. But that Carlos thereupon concluded that he had rattled off the letter quickly and halfheartedly — that he only had made so many mistakes because he hadn’t been in the mood for this kitschy stuff and just hadn’t wanted to say it! — really hit the younger one with the ferocity of a fist.

And as much as he had told himself not to cry, to not let it show how ashamed he was of his limitations - this was too much. Came too unexpectedly and, with all the tension and exertion of the last few weeks, was just too heavy to handle for Lando. To keep cool about.

He tried of course, but failed miserably. Couldn’t do anything about it when only seconds later his vision started to blur and the soft glow of the candles was distorted into long streaks. And right while he was struggling for composure, clenching his hands into fists to keep the tears from spilling from his eyes, Carlos looked up again - and of course saw everything.

Even if the younger one could no longer see it himself, he heard his boyfriend’s alarmed voice through the veil of tears: “Lando! Hey, what’s going on?!” and before he could have turned away or even put his hand over his face, Carlos was with by his side; a hand on his arm.

“Cariño…?! Talk to me, are you not feeling well…?”, he asked, gently stroking his forearm before curtly pulling him in and wrapping him in a warm hug the next moment. Latest now Lando was chanceless against his tears and couldn’t prevent that some fell from his eyes and ran down his cheeks - it was his natural reaction to Carlos’ comforting bear hugs. He just couldn’t help it when he held him so tightly and lovingly and gently stroked his back, just like he was doing now - albeit noticeably a bit more hesitantly than usual.

Relatable though, because the Spaniard obviously had not seen this outburst — unlike after a bad weekend on track, like in Sochi at that time — coming at all, and could in his own shock only guess what the reason might be. And blame it on said shock, but he guessed in the totally wrong direction:

“You could have said that you actually didn’t like the idea…”, he whispered to Lando carefully, while slightly rocking back and forth a little. “I really wouldn't have been mad at you, I'm not even now, I mean, it was just a suggestion…” - apparently assuming that Lando was only so taken aback because he had caught him so unprepared with his confrontation. And it was somehow true also, like, that it had something to do with getting caught - but Carlos was totally wrong at the heart of the matter.

And might it have to do with the fact that it was (almost) Christmas and — at least according to ‘Love Actually’ — you had to tell the truth then, or that the warmth of Carlos’ hug and his own tears softened everything inside him anyway - but Lando suddenly couldn’t leave the older one in the belief for a second longer that he had not wanted to make any effort for him.

Because that was as far from the truth as he was from an A+ in a dictation exercise, and if anyone deserved the truth, then it was Carlos.

“It-… it’s not because I didn’t like it”, he suddenly interrupted the said’s attempts at consolation with a sniffle; pulling one arm up between them both in order to wipe over his eyes with his sleeve. To wipe away the stupid tears that didn’t help anyway. “Because I did! I liked your idea and really wanted to do that!”

Even without looking up and with his sleeve over his eyes, he could feel Carlos’ questioning gaze resting on him, who had certainly noticed the unspoken but resonating with his words - and Lando knew: It’s now or never.

For the blink of an eye, he faltered again, unsure if he really wanted to go through with it - after all, he had already received enough ridicule for his limitations - but the idea that Carlos would continue to believe that he simply hadn’t wanted to put in an effort was still weighing a lot heavier. And part of him probably also subconsciously knew already that nothing would happen to him anyway. Not with Carlos.

And so Lando took another deep breath, swallowed - and then jumped into the cold water, just saying it, this thing that he hadn’t told anyone since school:

“I’m dyslexic.”

The three words had only come from his lips much quieter than planned, but Carlos had understood him anyway - but the surprise was clearly audible in his voice, of course. “Dyslexic-…?”

“Reading and spelling disability”, Lando hurried to add, his voice still thin; even if he suspected that the medical term would sound similar in Spanish and Carlos was aware of what it meant and had only repeated the word out of reflex, like, because he was so surprised- but anyway. “That means my brain often doesn’t get the order of the letters right. No matter how hard I try - and I did!”, he assured, looking up at Carlos for the first time, just briefly, for not even a second, but felt like he had to do to underline the credibility of his words.

“I tried so hard, but…” He shrugged helplessly, once, twice, three times. “…I can’t do it any better. Without autocorrect, I just don’t know how you write some” —many! — “words.” Sheepishly, he chewed on his bottom lip. “Quite embarrassing, I know, but-”

Now Carlos, who had only been listening so far, stepped in. “Lando, no, hey- that's not embarrassing!”, he went, grabbing his shoulders, but the younger one wasn’t having any of that.

“Yes, it is!”, he countered, sniffing in a mixture of defiance and hurt. “Any kid can write better than me!” - and maybe that was exactly what bothered him so much about it. That he looked so young anyway still, even if the last two years had definitely done him good - but that this problem in a way it put him on a par with children. He already had obtained the sad stigma of being stupid for dropping out of school to focus on his racing career - and now even stupider than a kid?!

Who would not be bothered by that?

Carlos, however, didn’t seem to see it that way. Just shook his head all the more resolutely.

“You’re not stupid just because you make a mistake! And you’re not a kid either - Lando!” The Spaniard seemed almost angry with him now for speaking so badly of himself, and yet the gesture with which he stroked his cheek with his thumb, wiping away two tears, spoke of love and love only.

“You just said it yourself, you- it’s not your fault”, he added more gently, but no less determined. “It’s a disease. It’s not your fault.” - and what from others had always sounded like a lame excuse, a disapproving ‘Well, he just can’t do it, what can you do about it…!’, sounded for the first time like actual understanding from his mouth. And above all, like real empathy, real regret that he had caused his boyfriend so much distress with this spontaneous idea, as the older one was probably realising now:

“And that’s why you don’t have to apologize, on the contrary, ¡dios!, I am sorry! I feel terrible - if I had known that you- I would have never-…! I just thought because you…” …at first seemed so unmotivated, he probably wanted to say, but didn’t, just shook his head again. Seemed actually horrified himself over his wrong conclusions, which probably felt even more wrong now in this new light (…haha, good pun during a power outage!).

Which in turn gave Lando a reflex to defend him though:

“You couldn’t have known it…” he said quickly, as he certainly didn’t want Carlos to feel bad. “I didn’t want anyone to know, actually. And with my phone, I’ve always been good at hiding it, but…” He shrugged vaguely. But that just doesn’t work when it’s on the coffee table downstairs.

On the coffee table next to his boyfriend, who was also writing him a letter which — although he wasn’t a native speaker — was probably pretty much free from mistakes.

And although he didn’t want to, Lando’s eyes suddenly filled with tears again at the thought.

“But I do really love you, Carlos”, he whispered; with an unknown vulnerability in his voice because, against his better knowledge, he was suddenly unable to shake off the worry that Carlos might doubt his feelings for him. “Really really…!”

However, that was something that Carlos wasn’t having any of:

He just immediately pulled his younger boyfriend back to him, very tightly, to not leave any room for the slightest doubts that tried to force their way between them.

“I know”, he shooed all the others away, a low whisper into curly hair. “I know that, of course I do… even without this.”

He let the letter rustle behind Lando’s back, but without letting go of him. Seemed to sense that he needed it right now. So they were sitting like that for a few seconds before Carlos eventually but loosened his hug a little; but only to lean back and look at him.

“And - I don’t even know why I even said that. Because it also still comes across with the mistakes”, he assured him. When you’re reading it with your heart, in best the-little-prince-fashion - which again was a bit cheesy for Lando’s tastes. He would have preferred it that you could also read it with your eyes.

But Carlos seemed satisfied - more than that. He seemed genuinely pleased.

“Thank you”, he just whispered in a gentle kiss against his lips, a warm shiver of breath. “That you still took part and for this wonderful letter, and for telling me and your trust. I promise I’ll cherish both like a treasure. Because - I love you, too, in case you haven’t noticed yet!”

A hint of a smile flitted across Lando’s face in response to Carlos’ encouraging grin, but it didn't quite succeed. Still, he wasn’t fully convinced.

“I still wish I could have done better. You deserved better…”, he mumbled sheepishly against Carlos’ chest, looking down on to his sweater as if he was searching for a flaw in the hem of the collar or something -

But the Spaniard couldn’t be deterred. Just cupped his cariño’s face gently with one hand, to make him look at him after all, before he whispered slowly and extra clearly: “There's nothing better for me than you.” - and it might be because he looked him straight in the eyes as he said it and there wasn’t the slightest hint of insincerity in the room between the beautiful chocolate brown and that particular shade of not gray, not green, not blue - but either way, now the corner of Lando’s mouth twitched up noticeably, despite all the sadness .

“Would you mind giving me that on paper as well…?”, he asked, half joking, but from the way he awkwardly held up his letter — which was also stained with a tear or two — it was obvious that there was far more seriousness behind his request than he wanted to admit -

And that was another thing Carlos loved about his friend, as the Spaniard realised at that moment: His emotional vulnerability. His sensitivity and that he had managed to keep it, despite the pressure of competitive sport, and was no way near as cold or ruthless as others in the business.

He still had to get better at communicating his feelings though, at best before they took over of him like today - but Carlos still felt that this afternoon was further proof that he was on the right way with it.

Which was another reason why he couldn’t help but smile back proudly at him as he said: “I actually already have. Down at the end.”

“For real?!” - with wide eyes, Lando cast a look at the sheet of paper, skimming the lines - and indeed: “Something better than my move to McLaren and thereby getting to know you could not have happened to me”, it said there shortly before the end, together with a simple, but no less touching “I'm so grateful to have you in my life” - followed by Carlos hoping that Lando would never forget that, no matter how long they might have been apart in the meantime. But that every time they’d see each other, he would do anything in his power to refresh his memory.

Signed with Carlos’ first name.

“Oh… I didn’t get that far yet…!”, Lando murmured absently, his voice shaking slightly because his heart was also beating full of excitement in his chest at all these overwhelmingly beautiful things that were written there; and part of him even couldn’t believe they were really for him! In a certain way hooked, his eyes flew over the remaining lines, of which he only now realised that he had actually not read the majority of them correctly, but which were no less beautiful. On the contrary…!

“…oh…!”, it escaped him again and when his throat this time tightened up, it was from pure emotion and happiness. From how loved and valued he suddenly felt.

Out of the corner of his eye, he heard Carlos exhale in an amused, loving, smiling way.

“It’s not gonna run away from you”, he said regarding to the letter and everything on it that he still had to read. “But, you know what?”

He waited a moment until Lando looked up to him again before he pointed at them both, lowering his voice a bit. “Forget the letter. This here… is beyond words anyway.”

And as if he wanted to prove exactly that to him, Carlos with these words took the letter from Lando’s hands and threw both their sheets carelessly on the coffee table, from where they immediately (because it was difficult to throw paper) immediately sailed down on the floor - but neither of them really noticed that, since Carlos had already leaned forward to kiss the Briton affectionately and to demonstrate to him how else you could pass the time during a power failure…! ♥