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When Max gets home after Austria he sighs and collapses on his couch. He is tired, he hasn’t been this tired for years now.
He reaches for his phone, fishes it out of his pocket, and throws it on the coffee table. It stays silent though as it has been for the past few hours now, and it feels like it’s taunting him with it. He wants to call Lando and at this point, he wouldn’t even care if all he got out of it was Lando screaming at him. He just wants to hear his voice, knowing he made it back to England okay since he never showed up for the flight they discussed. Realistically Max knows that it would be a stupid idea, he has to give time to Lando to calm down before they can speak but there is nothing he wants now than to hear his voice, to listen to him say that one bad race doesn’t change anything between them.
It’s not like he doesn’t understand the anger, of course he does. He remembers when he first got to look at the championship as a thing that he could win. He remembers the pressure so well and Max also knows how Lando’s mind works, how the standards he sets for himself are almost impossible to meet. He knows how he has the habit of setting himself up for failure and how the pressure after his win has been even more intense. Standing next to him after the race during the interviews, standing so close, hearing Lando finally bite back.
His phone pings on the table and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he reaches for it but it’s only his sister telling him she will bring the cats back tomorrow. He smiles softly and sends back a quick answer before putting his phone back down. Lando will not reach out; there would be no point trying to reach him now. It would only make the situation worse between them.
There is a bitter taste in his mouth after he gets up and starts getting ready to go to bed, the knowledge that he is not supposed to be alone tonight, that Lando was supposed to be here with him, talking his ear off is almost like a stab in the chest. They have been planning tonight for weeks now, how before Silverstone they are going to spend a few days in Max’s apartment. To get away from the chaos for a brief second.
Now the bed feels too empty and the house too quiet and the loneliness he was born with creeps back in, sharper than the last time. For years, he always talked to Lando in some form before going to bed, a quick text, a phone call, or in the best cases, he would lay next to him telling him stories about his childhood.
He thinks, no he knows, they are going to be okay. They will get over this and they will be back to normal. He is just trying to figure out how to handle the part where they give each other space and time and space.
(…)
Max wakes up to his doorbell at 6 am. After the miserable night, he had paired with his migraine he knows his sister is only coming later and whoever it is cannot be as important but by the fourth time of hearing the bell he finally gets up.
He stops in his kitchen and turns on the coffee machine, before continuing his way towards his door. The bell is still ringing and he feels the frustration in him rise by the time he reaches it. “Stop ringing the bell,” he sighs, “Just give me a second,” he finds the right key and finally manages to insert it into its place.
As he pulls open the door the first thing he sees is a familiar luggage sitting in front of his door, and when he opens his door fully, a little more intense than he originally planned, the owner of the luggage is standing there, sheepishly looking at Max.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” Lando says, “But I got to England and I didn’t even make it out of the airport before turning back.” He looks tired and rough, which is such a strong contrast to his shine after Miami that it breaks his heart. He wants to open his mouth and say something or move his frozen body to grab him but he can’t. He didn’t expect Lando to be the first one to say something and he didn’t expect him to do it so soon.
“I came here to apologize, not for the race because that was your fault but for how I acted,” he says and his voice is so quiet Max almost misses the way it wavers a little, “you out of all people didn’t deserve that,” Max doesn’t say anything as he grabs his bag and moves away so Lando can enter too. There is silence as he takes the bag to his room, setting them down to their usual place.
Lando came to him and was willing to talk this out, willing to put his cards on the table first, so Max would be brave and go out and do the same.
So he takes one last look at the luggage and makes his way back to the kitchen, to face Lando, to make the first step for once in his life.
“I’m sorry,” he says as he enters the kitchen. Lando looks up from his hands, “For the race, I know how much it meant to you,” Lando just quietly nods and returns to scratching his thumb’s skin. Something else is bothering him, Max sees this clear as day as they let the silence fall around them. He wants Lando to be the one to say it, he wants it so badly just to tell him, or scream at him, or whatever he needs to get over it.
Max takes a deep breath as he leans back against the counter and carefully watches Lando, even as he avoids his gaze in the process. The silence around them is heavy, way heavier than it ever was, and Max knows that it’s the weight of everything unsaid between them.
“I- I shouldn’t have pushed that hard,” he says, not being able to stand the silence around them anymore. His voice is soft and quiet, “I didn’t think about the consequences, or about you. I just wanted the win,” he says, admission sitting heavily between them.
Lando eyes finally meet Max’s, he looks tired but the softness in them is enough to wake the hope in Max. “You always want to win,” there is no anger in his voice as he says it, just understanding. They both want to win, every race, every sprint, winning is the main goal. “That’s who you are that’s -”
“But I don’t want to be like this with you,” he admits, his voice breaking.
“Max,” he says softly, “We all want to win, I’m not going to hold this against you.”
“I know,” he says, the words rushing out of him, “but I know how much this means to you-”
“But it’s not about that,” Lando says as he looks back to his hands, “the team has been talking about whether or not it would be worth it to try to fight for the championship,” he mutters quietly but refuses to look at Max now, “obviously I’m going to try to win it, but Max I cannot do this every single race,” he finally looks at him as he says it. The confidence and determination in his eyes enlighten happiness in Max, he loves seeing Lando like this. Like the racer, Max knows he is.
“Whatever happens on the racetrack stays there for me, you know that,” he says taking a step closer to him, “but there is something else bothering you,”
Lando nods, “If it came down to it, could you be happy for me?”
Max freezes at that. He thought about it before, if it came down to it and Lando won if he could be truly happy for him, if he could celebrate it with him. Could he be happy for Lando? The thought tightens something in his chest. He thinks about the defeat, the sting of it both on track and his life outside of it. But when he pictures Lando’s smile, victorious, happy, and open he knows the answer. Yes, he could.
Lando waits for him to answer, his eyes fixed on Max. He doesn’t try to hide how much this means to him. Max knows it’s not just about racing, of course, he does, he knows this is also about the line they have been tiptoeing around in the last few months, it’s about them.
“Lando…” his voice comes out unsure. Losing to him isn’t what scares him - it’s what it would symbolize. A loss that could be much greater than a title and useless silverware. Lando watches Max closely and for a brief second Max can see the confident facade Lando puts on so often slip, and the fear shows through. The fear that Max will say that he couldn’t handle it, that if Lando won they couldn’t survive that. Max hates it.
“It’s not about the race, or the championship, or us fighting for the same thing, that can stay on the track, but what about after it?” he asks, his voice so quiet Max almost doesn’t catch it. " When the helmet comes off, when the adrenaline runs out if I’m holding a trophy and you are not…could you look at me and be happy for me? Be proud of me?” his voice cracks as he says it. “If it came down to a last-lap duel and I won, would it change anything?”
“It’s not that simple, it never has been you know this,” his stomach twists at the thought of losing something so silly as this, even if this is his whole life, it feels like a weight too heavy to bear. “But if it comes down to you lifting the trophy, not me, I would be so proud of you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion he can only hope Lando can feel. “do you even have any idea how much you mean to me?” he asks and the sob that comes out with the question feels like something being freed.
Lando looks at him with wide eyes, caught off guard as Max’s words hang between them heavily. “Max-”
Max takes a step closer, causing Lando’s words to get stuck in his throat. His own heart is pounding in his chest: “You mean more to me than some silly trophy,” he says the words rushing out of his mouth, laying his heart out on Lando, who still just quietly stood there, looking at Max with wide eyes, “If it is you up there holding it…nothing is going to change. I would feel the same about you.”
Lando’s lip trembles as he tries to hold himself together. This is them crossing the line, this is Max laying out all his cards for Lando to see. He thinks about all the moments Max missed out on because he chose the sport over everything else in his life, all the times when they were younger when he let Lando slip through his fingers because he let his father and racing come between them.
“I don’t want to push you away,” he mumbles, “I know sometimes I get too tangled up in racing, I know I can lose my head when it comes to it,” he says the admission sliding off his tongue easily, “and I know my father is not an excuse and I’m not trying to hide behind him but I’m still trying my best to unlearn everything and I- sometimes I wish I could be less selfish and let you go, make you hate me.”
Lando slowly gets off the counter finally, his feet hitting the floor with a heavy thud, the only noise between them as they stand there. Max can feel his heart beating in his throat, as Lando’s eyes search his face, looking for something Max is unsure he can give.
Max clenches the edge of the counter behind him, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t start panicking, unsure what else could he do. The ball is now at Lando’s court and he has the chance to do whatever he wants to do with it.
Finally, Max hears Lando let out a shaky breath, “Max…” he takes a step forward as he carefully says his name as if saying it too loud could scare Max off, “I could never hate you, I need you to know this,” and he does because he knows Lando, who is truly incapable of hating anyone, but he knows how scared he must look right now, how vulnerable he feels.
His grip tightens on the counter, his knuckles going white as Lando steps even closer to him, close enough to touch. They both know that what they are talking about now, is fragile, that one bad word could break everything around them.
“I know you don’t hate me, that you never could,” he says and hates how rough and tired he sounds, “But sometimes I feel like I deserve it, that it would be easier if you did. I was being an ass yesterday,” he lets out a humorless laugh, his own eyes finding Lando’s.
Lando on the other hand just shakes his head, reaching out and putting one shaky hand on Max’s cheek, “You are being too hard on yourself. Max, the race- yeah you pushed too hard, but so did I, it’s just how we are wired.” he carefully caresses his cheeks as he talks. “I got angry, but that’s on me, not you,” he says so earnestly that Max can feel the tears prickling in his eyes, “But this,” he says putting his other hand to Max’s face, carefully cupping it now, “this is more important than that.”
He exhales a breath, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It wasn’t often that they talked like this - open, raw without the noise of the paddock. Or without themselves avoiding it.
Lando’s hands are still on his face, slowly caressing it as they stand there. It should be awkward, but it isn’t, like somehow this is exactly what they need.
“I don’t want you to let me win,” he says, his voice sounding confident and powerful as he says it, “If it comes down to the two of us, don’t you dare hold back, you understand?” he asks and Max doesn’t miss how he has the same fierceness in his eyes that he has before races. “I don’t want that.”
Max feels his breath catch, his heart pounding even harder than before. He knew Lando didn’t want that, how shitty it would make him feel, Max would never do that to him, to throw him in the wolf den.
“I wouldn’t,” he says, his voice coming out quieter than he intended, “I won’t let you win.”
Lando’s lips pull into a knowing smile, “Good. Just so you know I would never forgive you if you did,” and his eyes start to twinkle with the same playful look.
With the teasing, there is something deeper in his voice, something deep enough to make Max’s stomach flip. Lando wants them to be equals, to fight for the same thing fairly, both on and off the track. For something they both cared about.
Max clears his throat, not trusting his voice enough to come out clear right now, “But,” he adds, “If it comes down to you winning…I’ll be proud of you. For me, it wouldn’t change anything,” he says and the smile it brings to Lando’s lips is enough of an encouragement to touch that he brings one hand up to his waist, squeezing it.
“I know,” he says with a soft smile and something warm flickering in his eyes, “and I’ll be proud of you too.”
For a moment they just stand there, touching each other but both afraid to take the last step, to cross the line they have been dancing around. He could see the hesitation in Lando’s eyes, the previous easiness now nowhere to be found.
But Max promised himself he would be brave tonight so he puts his other hand on Lando’s waist two, his hands fitting there like they were always meant to land there, and pulls him forward so now they are fully touching.
“I don’t want to lose us,” Lando breaks the silence, “not to racing, not to anything. If we do this - I’m serious about this.”
And Max gets it, if they cross the line he doesn’t know if they could ever return to what they were before, they need to be serious about it. “I’m serious about you too,” he says and hopes Lando can feel his heart beating in his chest.
Lando’s eyes flicker down to his lip, it’s only for a bare second but it’s enough for Max to notice it.
None of them speak for what feels like forever, but they don’t need to. They said everything they needed, they were on the same page, and the nuances, could be figured out later.
Max smiles at Lando, a genuine, honest smile, and for a moment it feels like they are frozen. The small space between them feeling like it’s the furthest they have been, like a wrong move could break everything. Then, Lando’s lips meet his, soft but urgent like the kiss is long overdue between them. The hesitancy Max expected was anywhere as their lips fit together like they were meant to end up like this.
As they separate from the kiss, the world around them fades into a soft blur, the noise coming in from outside fading out. They were still close, close enough where Max could still feel Lando’s breath against his skin, close enough where Max could lean forward and meet Lando’s lips again.
“Promise me something,” Lando says, his voice rough and quiet. Max nods, “promise me that we'll talk no matter how hard it gets. That we won’t shut each other out.”
Max nods again, his heart swelling with the love he feels for Lando. “I promise,” he whispers, the intimacy of the moment not lost on him as he kisses Lando’s lips. As if it would seal his promise to him. “I want to do this, I want us to have this life together.”
Lando smiles again, Max cannot help but smile too. “Together,” he echoes, and the uncertainty he had in his eyes is nowhere to be seen, it’s overshadowed by the certainty of what they have now.
They take the silence around them, the promise of their future settling slowly around them as Max pulls Lando in, embracing him fully. He knows there will be hardships, and that they will argue sometimes, but he thinks that doesn’t matter right now. Or maybe never, because he knows that off track, they are a team working towards a shared goal. A goal that while far away, looks a lot like the rest of their lives. Together.
Max glances at the clock, it’s still early morning but he knows none of them can go back to bed now. Too charged with everything that happened. “What do you say we make some breakfast?” he asks as he lets his hand reach under Lando’s jumper, feeling the soft skin underneath it.
Lando pulls away a little, his smile victorious and open, and Max has to try hard not to get emotional over it. “Can you make me those breakfast sandwiches from last time?” he asks.
Max smiles, “Of course, do you want to help me?”
Land lets out a giggle as he untangles himself from Max, with one last kiss as a parting gift, and heads towards the fridge. “Well c’mon then, show me how it’s done,” he has a playful glint in his eyes and a smile so contagious Max cannot help but laugh as he steps away from the counter too, joining Lando.
Laughter echoes through the kitchen as they work, they always worked well together, but now it is different as they step into a new rhythm. One extended with the ability to touch.
As Lando prepares the coffee because he makes it better, and Max places the last piece of tomatoes on their sandwiches, Max glances at Lando, carefully pouring their coffee out in their coffee cups, and rambling about the new Quadrant launch he and Max planned. At that moment Max feels grateful, grateful that he ended up here.
“Hey, Lando?” Max calls out, his voice softening as he looks at him.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you came.”
Lando stops and looks toward Max, their eyes meeting. “Me too.”
They both know this is just the beginning, that while this is not the first morning they spent making breakfast joking, this is the first morning of the rest of their lives. Whatever the future holds - championship fight or anything else - they will handle it together.
In a few short days, they will have to go back, to fight for the championship, to stand in front of cameras and reporters. But this moment, this rare moment is theirs to keep, to cherish. This is a victory they share, the moments they have together, the love they cultivate, and the promises they make to each other.
This is theirs.