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It had been a couple months since Alex and Carlos had become teammates. And while Alex hadn't been dreading the partnership, he hadn't been exactly sure what to expect either.
Carlos was... complicated. Charming, sure. Friendly, magnetic even. But there was something behind it- like he was holding something just out of reach, like he could be warm without ever being entirely open. At first, Alex had chalked it up to the standard grid persona: guarded but functional, the way most drivers operated in this tight, high-pressure world. But over time, Carlos started letting down small walls. Not all at once- just gradually. A shared meal here, a laugh in the garage, the occasional debrief that turned into a conversation that had nothing to do with tyres or telemetry.
By now, Alex wouldn't say they were close exactly, not quite. But they were getting there. There was a comfort between them that hadn't existed at the start of the season.
And then there was Lando.
Lando Norris, who wasn't Carlos' teammate anymore, but might as well have been, the way he lit up whenever Lando was around. It was subtle, and maybe no one else would've noticed. But Alex had been friends with Lando for years. He knew what he was like on and off track. The cocky smirks, the teasing, the quick-witted remarks that were always two steps ahead. And he knew how he behaved with people he trusted.
That's what it looked like between Carlos and Lando. Just trust. The deep, well-worn kind. The kind that didn't need words.
It wasn't surprising, really. They'd been teammates back when they were both new to the sport. Carlos had been his Lando's first teammate, his first proper friend in F1, if the old interviews were anything to go by. People always said they were the closest pair on the grid. Fans joked about it, too- shipping memes, old video clips resurfacing on social media every time they stood next to each other during pre-race interviews.
Alex had laughed at some of them himself.
But he never thought there was truth in them.
Not until today.
It started off normal enough. The race weekend was in full swing, and he had finished media duties early. He'd wandered back to the hospitality tent to grab a drink, towel slung around his neck and hair still damp from the heat. The air smelled like warm tarmac and burnt rubber, with the sharp hum of machinery somewhere in the background.
Inside the tent, it was quieter- cooler, at least. Carlos was already there, half sprawled on the couch, still in his fireproofs, legs stretched out, head tipped back. He looked tired, but relaxed in that way he only ever did when the cameras weren't on him. There was a small cut on his knuckle and a bottle of water tucked between his thighs. His phone was resting on his chest.
Alex walked in without announcing himself. Carlos didn't look up. Not until his phone buzzed.
And even then, it was the way he looked at the screen that caught Alex's attention.
He smiled.
But it wasn't just a smile- it was one of those soft, private expressions. The kind people saved for moments no one else was meant to see. Not the usual quick grins Carlos gave when someone made a joke. This was quieter. Lingering.
He typed a response. His fingers hovered for a second longer than necessary. Then, almost automatically, he locked the screen and tucked the phone under his thigh.
"Good session?" Alex asked casually, grabbing a drink from the fridge.
Carlos blinked like he'd forgotten anyone else was in the room. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. Car felt good. Sector two was shit, though."
Alex gave a small laugh and nodded, sinking into the seat opposite. "You say that every time."
"Because it is shit every time."
But something lingered in the air. Not tension, not exactly- just something unspoken. Alex didn't know what to call it.
They talked for a bit. Debrief gossip, track conditions, upcoming simulator work. It was easy, as always. Carlos was good at that. Making things seem light. But when Lando showed up- not five minutes later, freshly showered- it shifted.
Alex noticed it in the way Carlos sat up, subtly straightening his posture. Lando didn't even look over at Alex at first, just walked straight toward Carlos, holding a coffee.
"Did you eat?" He asked, holding the cup out.
Carlos took it without hesitation. "No, but I will. Eventually."
"Eventually doesn't count." Lando was scowling, but there was no bite in it. His tone was soft. Familiar.
Carlos just hummed and took a sip. "Bossy."
"And you're impossible," Lando muttered, folding his arms.
They stood close. Closer than most people would've, if Alex were being honest. Lando's hip brushed against Carlos' knee. He didn't flinch. If anything, he leaned into it.
Alex had seen them like this before- during grid walks, in the paddock, post-race interviews. People thought it was sweet. A leftover bond from when they were younger. The fans had entire compilation videos dedicated to the two of them. And Carlos was physically affectionate. Everyone knew that. He was the type to grab Charles in a hug after Quali, to ruffle Ollie's hair after a good stint.
But this- this was different.
Carlos looked up at him. Really looked.
And Lando smiled. It was soft. Unmistakable.
The moment passed quickly. Too quickly, maybe. But not quickly enough to miss. Carlos stood, murmured something about grabbing food, and left. Lando stayed behind.
Alex waited a few beats before speaking. "You guys are close."
Lando turned to him, startled, as though only now realising he wasn't alone.
"Me and Carlos?" He shrugged, then smiled, casual. "Yeah. Always have been."
Alex nodded slowly, studying him. "Right. I mean, I knew you were. Everyone talks about it."
Lando tilted his head. "Jealous?" he teased, but there was something guarded in his eyes now.
Alex didn't take the bait. "Not jealous. Just... curious."
Lando held his gaze a second too long. Then his smile faltered, just the tiniest bit.
That's when Alex knew. It wasn't dramatic. No gasp of realisation, no thunderclap revelation. Just... the quiet settling of things falling into place. All those moments: brushed-off touches, half-explained glances, the way Carlos sometimes talked about Lando without even meaning to.
It wasn't just friendship.
It never had been.
And now, for the first time, Alex saw it for what it was. He didn't say anything else. Just nodded and stood, stretching casually. "I'm gonna go find Carlos. Make sure he doesn't skip the food part."
Lando laughed softly. "Good luck."
As Alex walked out into the sun, his thoughts felt strange. Not bad. Not even surprised, really. Just rearranged.
The world hadn't changed.
He had.
And now that he knew- really knew- it made everything look a little different.
The paddock was always ridiculous- glamorous, loud, and impossible to move through without someone trying to shove a camera in your face or pitch you a sponsorship. That's what made gatherings so rare between the drivers.
Not official. Not even planned, as far as Alex could tell. Just a quiet place above a sponsor event, where a few drivers had ended up post-dinner, trying to escape the crush of people below. There was music echoing faintly from the street, but up here, it was muted. The air was warm, salty, thick with summer.
Alex was leaning against the railing, half-finished drink in hand, when he caught sight of Carlos across the rooftop.
Carlos was talking to Max and Charles, arms folded, beer dangling from his fingers. He looked relaxed. More than usual. His head tipped back when he laughed, and Alex noticed the way his eyes kept scanning the space- like he was waiting for someone.
And then Lando appeared.
Simple as that.
No entrance, no grand reunion. Just... materialised. Like he belonged next to Carlos, and Carlos had been waiting for it. Lando clapped Max on the back, greeted Charles with a smile, then drifted in toward Carlos like a magnet being pulled home.
Alex watched it all happen like a quiet observer of a scene he wasn't meant to see.
What struck him wasn't the closeness. It was the quiet. The knowing that passed between them, without a word. Lando didn't have to say anything to get Carlos to shift subtly, making space against the ledge. He didn't even ask before taking the bottle from Carlos' hand and sipping from it like it was his own.
Carlos didn't flinch.
That was the thing. No hesitation. No flicker of awareness that someone might be watching. Just casual possession. A shared drink. A brief look.
It could've been written off. Easily. Everyone shared drinks sometimes. Alex had done it with Lando himself, even. But there was a difference between what they did and how they did it.
It was in the pause- when Lando handed the bottle back, and their fingers brushed.
It was in the way Carlos leaned in, shoulder knocking Lando's, and said something too quiet for anyone else to hear, earning a smile so warm it made Alex look away without meaning to.
They didn't know he was watching.
That was the part that twisted, oddly, in his chest. Not jealousy- this wasn't that. It was more like being let into a room he hadn't asked to enter, and now couldn't forget.
He didn't say anything that night. Not to Carlos. Not to Lando. But the next morning, during track walk, he brought it up without meaning to.
Sort of.
They were walking the circuit together, just him and Carlos. Lando had stayed behind for media duties, or so he said. Alex wasn't sure he believed it.
Carlos looked tired, but calm. Sunglasses on, cap pulled on backwards, a bottle of water swinging loosely in his hand.
Alex kicked a loose pebble as they passed the tight corners near the harbour. "You and Lando," he said, casual as he could manage. "You were teammates back in- what, 2019? 2020?"
Carlos looked over, surprised by the shift in topic. "Yeah. Back then."
Alex shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it. You're still close."
Something shifted in his posture. Just barely. "We stayed friends."
"More than friends," Alex added, without thinking.
Carlos blinked, then turned, one eyebrow raised beneath the rim of his cap. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Alex smiled, all teeth. "Just saying. You two know each other inside out. It's... rare. On this grid."
Carlos didn't reply immediately. Just looked at him, studying. It wasn't defensive, exactly, but there was something cautious behind his silence.
Alex didn't press. Let the air sit between them.
Eventually, Carlos looked forward again and said, "Yeah. It is rare."
He didn't deny it. That told Alex everything.
They walked the rest of the lap in near silence, the Mediterranean breeze brushing over their shoulders, sun starting to burn through the early clouds. Alex didn't bring it up again. Neither did Carlos.
But the air between them had changed.
It wasn't a secret anymore.
Not to him.
The race had been shit. There was no nicer way to put it.
Alex's car had felt off from lap five. The tyres weren't biting, the balance was wrong, and the strategy went sideways halfway through. He'd eventually crossed the line, soaked in sweat and frustration, with nothing to show for it but a useless debrief and a headache forming at the base of his skull.
But Carlos' race had been worse.
He hadn't even finished.
A mechanical failure- something to do with the gearbox- had taken him out just after the halfway mark. One minute he was fighting for points, the next, he was limping into the pits, helmet still on, jaw tight, eyes locked straight ahead.
He hadn't spoken much after that.
Alex had watched him do the usual: media pen, a forced smile here and there, a short statement for the cameras. "Unlucky day. Not much we could do. These things happen." All the typical lines. Rehearsed, practiced, meaningless.
And then he was gone.
By the time Alex finished his own media rounds, the sun had dropped low behind the paddock buildings, casting everything in gold and shadow. The hospitality unit was quieter now, with most of the team busy packing up or drowning their post-race moods in catering leftovers.
He still had his race suit half on, sleeves tied around his waist, undershirt clinging to his back. He climbed the stairs to the drivers' rooms with a bottle of water in hand and no real plan in mind- just a vague, persistent tug in his gut.
He didn't knock when he reached Carlos' door. Just paused, raised his hand towards the handle-
And froze.
Voices. Inside.
He hadn't expected that. He stepped back automatically, uncertain, but-
Carlos' voice came first. Quiet. Hoarse. Strained. "I- I knew something was wrong with the car, I felt it. I kept saying it. They didn't listen."
Then Lando's. Low. Gentle. "I know. I know, love, I heard it on the radio. You did everything you could."
Carlos laughed- bitter, broken. "And what does that get me? A DNF and another fucking article about how I'm cracking under pressure?"
"Who cares what they write? You don't owe anyone anything."
"I do," he snapped, and Alex flinched from the opposite side of the door. "I owe the team, I owe the fans, I owe everyone who keeps pretending I'm good enough to be here when I'm not- "
"Hey- hey. Look at me."
Silence.
Alex's heart pounded. He shouldn't be here. He knew that. But his feet wouldn't move.
Lando's voice was softer now. Closer. "You're more than good enough. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Not to me. Not to them. You don't have to keep breaking yourself to be enough."
Carlos said nothing. There was the sound of movement- a breath, a shift, something fragile.
Then a whisper, cracked and small: "I hate when I'm like this."
"I don't."
"You should."
"I don't."
Another silence, longer this time. Alex heard the scrape of the couch, the sound of someone being pulled in, a muffled exhale like someone burying their face into someone else's shoulder.
He stared at the floor, throat tight.
He didn't know what he'd expected to find when he came up here. Maybe Carlos alone, suffocating in his own silence, too proud to ask for comfort. That was how most drivers dealt with it. Shut the door, shut the world out.
But not Carlos. Not with Lando.
And not like this.
It was... intimacy. Not just affection. Love, raw and quiet and not meant for anyone else's eyes. Alex had seen them joke, tease, lean into each other like it was nothing- but this was different. This was Carlos unravelling. And Lando holding him through it like he'd done it a hundred times before.
And all of it behind a closed door the world didn't see.
He backed away before he heard anything more.
His footsteps were careful. Measured. He didn't want them to know he'd been there.
Back downstairs, the paddock felt emptier. He made his way to the outdoor seating area and dropped onto one of the benches, drink still untouched in his hand. The noise of packing up carried faintly from the garages.
He sat there a long while, watching the sun dip lower, thinking of all the moments he'd misread. The touches. The glances. The silences.
He wasn't surprised anymore.
He was just... quietly gutted by how much Carlos had to carry without letting anyone see it.
Not even a teammate.
Until now.
The team briefing room was cold and sterile, the fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. The walls were lined with screens flashing telemetry data, race footage, and strategy updates. Everyone was dressed in crisp team gear: focused, professional, tuned in to the endless cycle of preparation and analysis.
Alex sat near the back, arms crossed loosely, eyes scanning the data but only half really registering it. His mind kept drifting back to last night- the quiet voices behind Carlos' door, the weight in the air no one else had seen.
Carlos was there too, sitting just a few seats away, staring down at his notes like they held the answers to everything he'd been trying to wrestle with. His fingers tapped the table- slow, restless.
The room buzzed with quiet chatter as the engineers went over the race's technical details. Carlos barely looked up. Alex watched him out of the corner of his eye, studying the tension in his jaw, the slight slump of his shoulders.
When James called for attention and the briefing started, the voices dropped to a professional murmur. Alex stayed alert but didn't speak.
Halfway through, there was a pause in the presentation. James asked if anyone had questions.
Alex's gaze flicked to Carlos, and for a moment, he considered speaking up- something encouraging, maybe a joke to break the heaviness- but then thought better of it. Instead, he caught Carlos' eye and gave the faintest nod. A nod that said, I see you. I'm here.
It was a gesture so small it could be missed.
His eyes lingered on Alex's for a second longer than necessary, a flicker of surprise in them, but then his face settled back into a neutral mask. No words passed between them.
Later, when the technical director pulled up the next segment of data, Alex reached quietly into his bag and pulled out a bottle of water. Without a word, he slid it across the table to Carlos, who glanced at it, a brief, tired smile flickering before he took it.
The water bottle felt like a simple lifeline- nothing big, no speeches or declarations, just a silent "You're not alone."
The briefing resumed, but the atmosphere between them had subtly shifted. The weight of last night was still there, but in the smallest of ways, Alex had built a bridge.
At the end of the meeting, as everyone packed up, Carlos lingered just a moment longer, and Alex caught him off guard with a quiet, "If you need to talk, I'm around."
His smile was almost imperceptible, like a secret acknowledgment. Then he turned and walked away, shoulders a little less heavy than before.
Alex watched him go, knowing the road ahead would be long and rough- but also knowing that sometimes, the smallest acts mattered most.
The paddock was waking up slow and steady.
The sun was barely over the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the concrete. Most teams were still in their motorhomes or garages, sparing the early hours for rest before the race weekend's chaos began again.
Alex was making his usual rounds: checking his gear, running through the checklist in his mind. He liked these quiet moments, the ones before everything exploded into noise and pressure.
That's when he saw them.
Carlos and Lando.
They were leaning against the barrier near the garage entrance, hands tucked in their pockets, faces turned toward the first rays of sun. Neither noticed Alex at first.
There was something about the way they moved together. Easy. Familiar. The kind of closeness that spoke of years spent not just as teammates, but something deeper.
Alex slowed his steps, letting himself watch.
Lando was talking- quiet, calm, maybe teasing, because Carlos' smile was small but real. The kind that softened his usually guarded features. Lando's hand came up, brushing an errant lock of hair off Carlos' forehead, fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.
Carlos' eyes closed briefly at the touch, like he was savoring something no one else could see.
Alex's throat tightened. He'd seen this before- the silent conversations, the unspoken language- but catching it in these stolen moments made it feel like a secret he wasn't supposed to know.
Carlos' hand rose, lightly covering Lando's in response. They stayed like that, the world shrinking to just the two of them, wrapped in a bubble no one else could break.
Alex shifted his weight, wanting to look away but unable to tear his gaze loose.
He saw the small things: the way Lando's fingers curled gently around Carlos' wrist, the faint squeeze of reassurance. The way Carlos leaned into the touch, just the barest inclination, as if it grounded him in a way words never could.
Alex realised he wasn't just watching teammates or friends. He was watching something precious. Something quiet and fierce and unbreakable.
The moment stretched out, timeless.
Eventually, Lando's voice cut through the silence again. "Come on. We've got a long day ahead."
Carlos nodded, reluctantly pulling away. Their hands slipped apart like a fading echo.
They started walking back toward the garages, side by side, close but not touching- at least not yet.
Alex watched until they disappeared into the shadows.
He didn't move for a moment, letting the weight of what he'd seen settle deep inside him.
And then, finally, he turned and walked away.
The midday sun beat down bright and relentless over the Fan Zone. A crowd had gathered near the stage, buzzing with excitement, flags waving, phones raised for photos. The energy was electric- lighthearted, loud, and unapologetically chaotic.
Behind the barriers, the drivers were led onto the stage in pairs. The team's staff hustled around, making sure water bottles were topped up and schedules stayed tight. It was one of those rare moments where drivers swapped helmets and race suits for casual smiles and banter, faces relaxed in the rarest way.
Alex and Carlos came out first, sliding into position near the centre of the stage. They exchanged a few easy words, subtle teasing that made the crowd laugh. The chemistry was obvious, but they still had that vibe with each other- new teammates figuring out how to fit into each other's space.
Moments later, the McLaren pair joined them, stepping into the spotlight with a different kind of rhythm. Lando's grin was broad, effortless, and he immediately drifted toward Carlos, as if gravity pulled them together no matter the setting.
Carlos's posture relaxed the instant Lando was near, and Lando wrapped an arm around his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. The closeness wasn't lost on anyone, but no one outside their small circle seemed to question it.
Alex saw, of course. He'd seen it too many times now to be surprised, but the way they slipped back into their quiet orbit still held a certain magnetic pull.
Oscar stood just slightly apart, arms crossed but eyes sharp. His presence was quieter, more reserved. There was an edge to him that reminded Alex of their history- a rivalry that had softened over time but left an invisible line between Oscar and Carlos.
Alex and Oscar exchanged a glance, a flicker of mutual understanding. They'd worked through some of the old tension, but Alex didn't know that Oscar was one of the few who knew the full truth about the deepness of Carlando.
The host stepped up, throwing out questions from fans, and the drivers answered with practiced ease.
Lando leaned in close to Carlos, whispering something that made him laugh, a rare, genuine sound that echoed across the stage. Their shoulders brushed, hands met briefly and then fell apart as if that was the only time they allowed themselves to be completely unguarded.
Alex caught the subtle exchanges- the quiet words, the protective glances. He wondered, for a moment, if he really understood what was going on between them.
Oscar shifted, then offered a small smile toward Carlos. It was faint but sincere. A peace offering, or maybe an acknowledgment of what neither said out loud.
The crowd cheered, and the drivers raised their hands together, a unified front in the public eye. But behind the smiles, the layered relationships hummed quietly: old grudges softened, new alliances forged, and the invisible threads tying them all together stretched taut.
As the session wrapped, Alex found himself standing closer to Carlos than before. No words were necessary.
Sometimes, he thought, it was enough just to be there.
The hospitality suite was a quiet refuge from the storm of the weekend.
The buzz of the paddock had faded hours ago, leaving only the hum of distant conversations and the soft clink of glassware. The lights were dimmed low, casting a warm amber glow across the polished floor and plush sofas.
Carlos was stretched out on one of the larger couches, legs draped over the armrest, face turned up toward the ceiling. The tension from the day weighed visibly on him- the tight jaw, the restless fingers tapping a rhythm on his knee.
His phone buzzed suddenly, cutting through the stillness.
He reached over with a lazy hand and pulled it closer, the screen lighting up the room with a soft blue glow. Before he could pull it away, Alex's eyes flickered to the photo: a picture of Carlos and Lando, close and smiling, their faces intimate in a way no one was supposed to see.
For a moment, time slowed.
Carlos' breath hitched.
His chest tightened.
He froze, heart pounding like it might burst free.
The truth, the secret he'd buried so deeply, was suddenly laid bare, even if only for a heartbeat.
His eyes locked with Alex's.
Uncertainty flooded his expression: fear, vulnerability, confusion. How would Alex take this? Would it change everything? Would he see him differently now?
Carlos' voice was barely above a whisper, fragile as glass. "I didn't mean for you to see that."
Alex's gaze softened immediately. He took a breath, then said gently, "It's okay."
But it wasn't just words- it was an unspoken promise, a silent acceptance that made the tight knot in Carlos' chest loosen, just a little.
"I wasn't sure how you'd... react. Or if you'd think differently of me."
Alex shook his head slowly, voice calm but steady. "No. It doesn't change anything."
Carlos looked away, fingers curling nervously into the fabric of the sofa. "I've been so careful- so scared someone would find out. It feels like... if this got out, everything could fall apart."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Alex shifted closer, just enough to close the distance without breaking the fragile space.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly. "Whatever this is, I'm here."
Carlos swallowed hard, a tear slipping free, unbidden but not unwelcome.
"Thank you, Alex. More than I can say."
The room seemed to hold its breath around them.
And for the first time in a long time, Carlos let himself believe he didn't have to hide everything alone.