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Lando felt dead on his feet as he arrived at Max's, the elder unlocking the front door and leading Lando into his flat. He toed his shoes off at the door, then collapsed onto the sofa, eyes immediately falling shut.
He could hear Max shuffling around, sorting things out around him, but Lando was too exhausted to open his eyes. Between a shit race, and feeling just slightly under the weather enough for the last few weeks to feel completely awful.
“Oi, Bob,” Max's voice sounded above him.
Max was holding out a glass of water when Lando looked up, smiling softly at him.
“Thanks,” Lando murmured, reaching out for the glass and taking a small sip. The cold liquid felt nice going down his throat, soothing it slightly.
“Take these too, then you should probably go to bed mate,” Max said, handing over a sheet of paracetamol as he took a seat beside Lando.
“Thank you,” Lando repeated, taking the tablets, then resting back against the sofa. He hoped it would help with the headache he'd had since retiring from the race.
“You raced well today, you know that, right?” Max asked, “I know it didn't end how you wanted, but you're fast, you were faster than Verstappen today.”
Lando knows Max meant well, but it made his chest hurt regardless, he didn't want to think about it yet, maybe not ever. He dnf'd and Verstappen still got points, it wasn't fair. He knew he sounded like a petulant child even thinking that.
“Yeah,” Lando replied, “that's what's so frustrating.” The ache in his chest was back, something different from him being slightly under the weather, it wasn't anger, and it wasn’t sadness, it was a kind of disappointment or something similar. “I don't really want to talk about it now, thank you though Max,” Lando gave a small faked smile, hoping it would be enough to ease the anxiety Max was feeling.
“All good mate,” Max smiled back, patting Lando on the shoulder, “go to bed now, get some rest.”
Lando nodded, “night,” he mumbled, more than ready to curl up under the covers and not move for at least ten hours.
He took a quick shower, wanting to feel clean after traveling, then curled up in Max's spare bed. He pressed play on a playlist on his spotify, letting the sound fill the quietness of the room, and tried to get his brain to stop.
It didn't work, and Lando was still staring up at the ceiling an hour later. He didn't think it was helping that his head was still aching, and his nose felt all blocked up, and he was just so far past exhausted, sleep was no longer possible.
He picked up his phone, scrolling through something mind numbing to just kill some time. If he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well send his brain to sleep.
There was a soft knock at the door, “hey Bob, you still up?” Max's voice sounded from the other side.
“Yeah,” Lando hummed, turning his phone off and chucking it onto the bed beside him.
Max's head poked round the door, “d'you wanna put something on? I can't sleep either.”
It wasn’t unusual for them to struggle sleeping. There'd been multiple occasions where he and Max called each other, just chatting until they could fall asleep. And when they were living together, they'd often fall asleep on the sofa watching the tv, or in his or Max's bed. And as much as Lando hated to admit it, he needed it right now, needed to not be by himself.
“Yeah, sounds good,” Lando replied, shifting over slightly to make room for Max.
Grabbing the remote first, Max lay down beside Lando, lying on his usual side of the bed. He flicked through the channels, checking a few of the streaming sites before eventually finding something pretty harmless that they would both enjoy. He didn't check with Lando, he didn't need to, it wasn't about the tv.
“Thank you,” Lando mumbled into the darkness, his eyes half on the tv screen as he let the exhaustion take him.
“Are you okay?” Max responded, needing to check, needing to make sure.
“Yeah, I'm just tired, and ill, and annoyed, and I just really want to sleep.”
Lando could feel Max nodding beside him, he knew Max understood.
“You can sleep now,” Max said, “and you don't have to worry about going anywhere till at least tuesday.”
Lando let out a small laugh, “night muppet,” he said, putting his phone on the bedside table, and closing his eyes.
“Night Bob.”
*
Lando was still feeling shit a few weeks later. He had a week off between Silverstone and Budapest, but that hadn't really seemed to help. The worst bit was that he wasn't really that ill, not like he had been at Barcelona a few years ago. He was just slightly under the weather. A bit of a blocked nose, an occasional cough, and a headache that came and went. Just enough to feel awful, but not enough to get out of media commitments and all the boring stuff.
The race didn't particularly go as he wanted, but Lando was happy for Oscar regardless, he was a phenomenal driver, and more than deserved his first win, Lando just wished it had happened differently.
Then Spa hadn't been too great for him either. He wanted to have a good race while all of his family were there, but it didn't seem to work out.
So when he finally got back to his flat in Monaco, all Lando wanted to do was collapse on his sofa and sleep until Max arrived.
There had been plans for golf, and they had a holiday booked, with three weeks of the summer break to kill. But Lando wanted to sleep for at least a week, and Mclaren wanted him to come to the MTC for some sim work.
He fell into a fitful sleep, grateful for the warm fluffy blankets he had wrapped around him. It didn't feel restful, but Lando didn't wake until he felt a hand pressed against his forehead.
It was cold, that was the second thing Lando felt. The blankets had been taken away, and with his brain feeling fuzzy, Lando just about realised that Max was there, hovering over him.
“Max?” he asked in a croaky voice.
“Fucking hell Lan,” Max responded, a frown heavily etched into his features.
Lando wasn't quite sure why Max looked so worried. He felt shit, he'd felt shit for a while. But now his head was aching ten times worse, and it was freezing cold, and Lando felt a bit like he was going to puke.
“Why didn't you tell me you were feeling worse?” Max asked, and Lando could hear in his voice that Max was scared.
Lando had been ill once while he and Max lived together. He’d thrown a huge temperature, and all he really remembered was Max calling his mum at three am cause he was freaking out. He couldn't really blame Max, Lando had been barely conscious for just over a day, only really moving to be sick. Max's mum had been there when Lando woke up, Max sheepishly apologetic for freaking out so much.
“Sorry,” Lando mumbled, his voice sounding foreign to his ears.
Truthfully, Lando hadn't realised he'd felt so awful. Part of him thought it was the fault of his blankets. With a t-shirt, joggers, a hoodie, and socks on, under two fluffy blankets, it had probably made it all a little worse, probably making his fever spike a lot higher than it would have done.
“Don't apologise, you muppet, I'm worried about you. Here you are burning up by yourself, I should have come over sooner.”
Lando cut Max's concern spiral off with a hurried scramble off the sofa, “I'm gonna be sick,” he said, forcing his legs to carry him to the bathroom, before collapsing in front of the toilet.
Max followed, crouching beside him and rubbing his back as Lando puked into the toilet. He was grateful for the comfort, his head aching furiously as he emptied the contents of his stomach.
Lando rested his head on the seat when he was finished, too tired to hold it up any longer. He felt Max disappear from beside him, returning a few moments later with a glass of water.
“Here, wash your mouth out,” Max said, slowly passing the glass to Lando.
“Thanks,” Lando mumbled, taking a few slow, small sips and spitting it into the water.
They stayed there for a while, before Lando felt brave enough to move. He felt weak and shaky, and leant into Max as they walked back to the sofa.
He collapsed onto the sofa, mourning the loss of his blankets as he let his eyes fall shut. It was so cold, but the limited remaining logical part of his brain was telling him that the blankets would only make it worse.
“Take these, hopefully we'll get your temperature down,” Max said, putting two tablets in Lando's hand, before handing him a new glass of water.
Lando nodded slowly, quickly taking the tablets with a swig of water. He handed the glass back to Max, then rested his head back against the sofa.
“Sleep,” Max said, running his fingers through Lando's hair, “just focus on getting better.”
*
Lando was feeling better when he woke up. His temperature had gone down enough to make being conscious almost bearable. Max gave him more tablets, and made him drink some water.
Max had had a point earlier. Lando had overworked himself, and even though he'd felt awful, he kept working, and didn't reach out for help. Lando was so lucky Max had come over, it would have been a lot worse if Max wasn’t there.
“You're looking better Bob, how're you feeling?” Max asked, sitting on a chair opposite Lando. He was dressed in some of Lando’s clothes, his hair wet after having a shower.
Lando nodded slowly. His head was only aching a bit, and it wasn't quite as freezing, he'd obviously needed all this time to rest and do nothing. It may have been forced upon him, but that didn't mean it wasn't a good thing.
“You freaked me out a bit, you know,” Max said, a sheepish smile on his face.
“Sorry,” Lando mumbled, “didn't realise it was this bad.”
Max shook his head, “only you mate.”
“Sorry we can’t do anything, I know you wanted to play golf,” Lando apologised a few hours later, after Max had convinced him to try and eat something.
“You really think I care about that?” Max asked, frowning deeply, “you aren’t well, I’d rather be here with you.”
“I'd do the same for you, you know that right?” Lando asked, his wide, sleepy eyes looking earnestly up at Max.
“Of course,” Max smiled, and that was enough for Lando to allow himself to fall back asleep, still completely exhausted.
*
Lando was looking forward to the first race back after the summer. He was finally feeling well, and after spending the summer with his mates, he was in a good place.
Zandvoort was a good track for him, and apart from having to eat the stroopwafel that he made himself, it was a pretty good weekend.
Winning made it an even better weekend. His dad was there to see him win, squeezing him so tightly he thought he was going to burst. He also got to stand on the podium with Will, got to absolutely drench his race engineer with champagne.
It was the perfect way to come back after the summer, but there was only one person Lando wanted to see after celebrating with the team.
He travelled home the day after, but not to his flat in Monaco, and despite his dad's best efforts, not to his family home either.
“Hey,” Lando smiled as Max opened the door.
“What are you doing here?” Max asked, a surprised look on his face.
“I wanted to see you,” Lando said, as Max pulled him into a tight hug.
“Well done mate, you were amazing all weekend!”
“Thank you,” Lando grinned as he let go, Max taking a step back to allow him through the door. “The car felt really good this weekend, I felt really good this weekend.” He said the second part slightly quieter.
Max stared at him in disbelief as Lando sat down on the sofa. “Did you really just compliment yourself?” he said, teasing Lando gently as he sat beside him, “you should do it more, it looks good on you.”
Lando let his head fall against Max's shoulder. He was tired, exhausted even, but being with Max made everything feel okay. “Thank you,” he said again, hoping Max would know it was for more than just the compliment.
“I’m glad you came,” Max said, wrapping his arm around Lando's shoulder. “Now, you need to shower, then I can make you some food that's almost certainly not on your meal plan, and then we can get some sleep, sound good?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look down at Lando.
Nodding his head, Lando said, “let's just stay here a few more minutes,” letting his eyes fall shut.
“A few more minutes,” Max agreed, taking in a deep breath as he let himself relax.