Chapter Text
Even before stepping into the car, Lance had a sinking feeling in his stomach, already dreading how this was going to end and whatever cruel response the media was going to have to it. He was acutely aware of the way he was perceived by fans, and he knew nothing he could say or do would change it. Briefly considering refusing to start completely, Lance gloved up his numb hands, pushing past the dull ache in his wrists.
Stupidly, he thought the days of being completely unable to move his hands were over, he thought he wouldn't be curled up in bed for days at a time because the pain made him sick, but with Aston Martin's 'electric chair' car it seemed they weren't as impossible as he thought. But, he pushed any thoughts relating to his wrists away and simply focused on the race ahead. He tried to disconnect any emotion he felt towards the upcoming inevitables and simply focus on the facts.
During the race, he truly tried to give it his all, having to take his hands off the steering wheel every couple seconds just to try and pause the pain the vibrations are causing. He knew how dangerous it was, but he couldn't hold on, no matter how long he persisted through the pain, it would eventually consume him, leaving him to spin out at turn 3. For a couple minutes after the crash, he just sat there, feeling completely and utterly empty. Briefly responding to his race engineer, he looked back at the track he was crashed alongside, debris coating the tarmac, likely needing the safety car. As if the other drivers didn't hate him enough already.
After being bothered enough times, Lance finally found the strength to pull himself up and out of the car, hiding his face in his helmet, keeping the visor down as he walked back to the Aston Martin garage in shame. As disappointed he felt in the team, he still felt like it was all his fault, like he'd let them down somehow and he found himself wondering if Fernando secretly hated him because of it.
Trying to avoid everyone possible, especially his father, Lance just dragged his feet towards his driver's room, trying to keep himself together. After closing the door a lot harsher than he intended, he sunk to the ground, trying and failing to rotate his wrists. He could feel the pain building up, his bones felt weak and fragile, still feeling the effects of the vibrations. He wasn't even sure what to do at this point, so he just tried to sit there and tough it out, as it gradually got worse.
He knew he should try and leave, go back to his hotel room, before the pain became completely unbearable, and he couldn't leave any sooner when he heard that Fernando was retiring the car over the garage intercom. He knew Nando would want to see him, talk to him, and he spoke to him with such care and compassion like he usually does, Lance would probably just burst into tears, so he took that as his cue to leave.
He did a surprisingly good job at sneaking out the back exit and discreetly calling a cab to take him home. He was so glad the driver didn't decide to make small talk, because the buzzing pain only made him more awkward and distracted. He mostly just tried to avoid everyone, no matter who they were during his trip back to the hotel, eventually finding his room and slamming the door, taking a couple shaky breaths as the pain suddenly increased.
He leaned against the kitchen table, losing his breath at the sudden, overwhelming pain. Unconsciously biting down on the inside of his mouth, he remained hunched over the low table, putting all of the pressure on his shoulders rather than his forearms. He barely noticed the door open over the ringing of his own ears. He didn't even know he wasn't alone until he felt Fernando's hand on his back, gently trying to soothe him despite the pain.
If he were able, he would've whipped his head back instantly and maybe back away, stand his ground that he was independent and didn't need coddling, but it was as if the pain had consumed his entire body. His entire body was tense and stiff, he didn't want to move a single inch in fear of the pain getting worse. He just wanted to cry. Fernando gently eased him away from the table and towards his room, keeping both arms on him without as much of a 'hello' from either of them.
Nando gently maneuvered him down onto his bed, wanting to get him lying down but settled on him sitting on the edge of the bed, he tilted Lance's chin up so they were looking eye-to-eye, "Lance...?" Lance's expression was one of pure agony, and Fernando just wanted some kind of response from him, but all the got was his pained, shaky hyperventilating. With a feather light touch, Nando took his left hand so he could inspect his wrist. He knew close to nothing about the actual details of his teammate's condition, Lance was surprisingly good at hiding things, all he knew is that it was bad, and had ruined his life before and it wouldn't take much for it to do it again.
He touched him with the lightest touch possible, with more care than he had ever given anyone before, he had no clue how to help, but he couldn't stand to see him suffer so horrifically, so he'd do anything to try. Without a word, he hurried off into the kitchen, a couple items frantically clanging about as he searched for what he needed, and he returned to Lance with a ice pack nearly wrapped in a towel. Before handing it to him, he placed a pillow across Lance's lap, and instructed him to place his arms down onto it, before laying the ice pack over both his wrists, in hopes to reduce the swelling.
Lance was hesitant, somehow expecting it to hurt, before remembering that it was Fernando Alonso doing this for him, and relaxed slightly, knowing he was in good hands. Once he had settled the ice over his wrists, Nando climbed onto the bed next to him, shuffling close and wrapping an arm around his waist, giving him a strange kind of side-hug because he couldn't currently do it properly. He rubbed Lance's back, trying to catch a glimpse at his expression from his bowed head.
Lance was in agony, he was incredibly restless yet unable to move, all his limbs felt like lead, except for his wrists with their sharp, burning pain that seemed to just consume everything else he was feeling or had control of. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to sink into Nando's embrace, feeling utterly helpless.
Fernando also felt helpless, knowing that the ice likely wasn't helping but unsure what else to do. He could try heat, but feared that it might just make it worse. Finally, he decided to speak up, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "Lance..., how can I help..?" His uncertainty was palpable in his voice, along with his loving care and desire to dull his pain. "You can't." Lance whispered back, his voice weaker and shakier than he expected, he sounded as shit as he felt, revealing how close he was to tears to Alonso.
Without even thinking, Nando responded, "Okay. At least let me make you as comfortable as possible." And Lance didn't object, knowing there would be no point arguing with Fernando about something like this, he would have absolutely no chance of winning. He stepped back off the bed for a moment, grabbing as many pillows as he could find and setting them behind Lance, along with grabbing a couple blankets, setting two up on Lance, a thicker, heavier one around his shoulders and a smaller, thinner one over his legs. He then disappeared again onto the kitchen and Lance could hear the kettle boiling, smiling to himself while thinking about whatever shenanigans Nando was currently up to.
Returning once again, Nando returned with two mugs of green tea, placing Lance's on his bedside table, Lance wasn't planning on mentioning the fact that he didn't have the strength in his wrists to pick it up, but he greatly appreciated the effort. He felt less alone. He actually felt loved, he couldn't remember the last time he felt that.
Nando once again took his seat next to Lance, reaching for the Tv remote, and just putting on something mindless and light-hearted as background noise. Lance snuggled up next to him, resting his head on his chest in an odd slouching position. Fernando smiled to himself and moved closer, almost behind him, so he could be more comfortable and still leaning against him.
He found himself wanting to apologize to Fernando, for being such a bother, but he knew the only response he'd get was subbon insistence that he'd done nothing wrong, so he kept his mouth shut. The pain was still severe, causing him to inhale sharply every couple seconds, but with Fernando there, he could at least share some of the weight. He knew he was going to be okay, he wouldn't let anything happen to him. He felt so incredibly grateful to have a teammate like him, one that actually cared about more than what happens on the track.