summary: hosting a party to celebrate his victory, lando finds you alone in the kitchen and almost changes everything. unfortunately, almost doesn't count.
pairing: lando norris x gn!childhood-friend!reader
cw: mentions of alcohol
wc: 946
“Had enough of celebrating me already?”
You could hear the teasing grin in Lando’s voice without needing to turn. That sly smile that always seemed to settle so naturally on his face.
“Just getting a bit of support,” you shook the bottle of vodka in your hand before pouring it into your glass. “If I have to hear Max reminisce about karting with you one more time I think I might hit him.”
Lando chuckled at that, “Oh come on, he’s just proud of me. It’s cute! It wouldn’t hurt if you showed a bit of pride like that.”
“I am proud of you.”
And you meant it.
Sure, you didn’t share his passion for racing as fervently as Max, but he was your friend. A close friend. That annoying little kid who used to scribble in your book during maths, the one whose car you sat in eating chips at 11pm, the one you knew would always pick up the phone day or night if you rang. And he’d achieved his dream.
Lando Norris was world champion, and you couldn’t be prouder.
“Oh Y/n, that’s enough to make a grown man cry,” you could feel the warmth of his body as he leant against the counter next to you. The scent of alcohol from his breath drifted into the shared space as he pouted dramatically.
It was quickly wiped into a smile as you nudged his shoulder, a chuckle leaving your lips at his antics.
A quiet settled in the kitchen after that. The echo of house music carried from the speaker in the living room, and the overlapping voices of your drunk friends merged into one ridiculous, slurring noise, but it somehow felt peaceful.
The glass was warming in your hand, half-mixed drink long-forgotten as you stood in the dimmed lighting of the kitchen, unable to do anything but look back at him. Your best friend.
He could see right into your soul; you were sure of it. See every thought, every feeling, every emotion. Lando had always been good at that - reading you. Even back when he was that annoying little boy in maths class, it felt like he was able to look in your eyes and know your life story. Know every memory you’d ever made, and every dream you’d ever dreamt.
Sometimes you wondered if that was something he could do with everyone, or whether the intensity of his stare made you let him in more than you realised, made you want to share every hidden thought and whispered secret with him.
The softness in his eyes was enough for you to believe it was the latter. And yet, you knew you had to tell him again, “I truly am proud of you.”
“I know.” It was barely a whisper.
“No, Lando, I don’t say it enough. This is what you’ve worked for your whole life. Every decision, every sacrifice, every bead of sweat, and the whole time you’ve been gentle and kind. You’re the most deserving champion there is and I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Maybe it was the faint buzz of alcohol in your head, or the way Lando’s eyes crinkled with a slight smile at your words but here, in this bubble of intimacy the two of you had created, you found yourself wanting to tell him everything. How his success was all you’d ever dreamed of, how lucky you were to have him, how you had always wondered if you could have more.
As if he knew what you were thinking, Lando’s fingers brushed against your waist; tentative, testing, moving with a hesitancy you’d never known in him. It was clear he too felt the delicacy of the moment, like a candle that would be snuffed out by the gentlest breath. He felt the weight of over ten years of friendship balancing on the edge of a knife as his hand splayed across your skin more assuredly, eyes darting across your face for any sign of unease.
You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt the slow movement of his thumb against your skin, tracing shapes so gently you questioned if it was even happening. You watched his eyes drift to your mouth before once again meeting yours, and for the first time in your life you could peer into his soul the same way he always saw into yours. You recognised the look in his eyes: the distant longing for something you were sure you couldn’t have, the ever-present question of ‘what if?’. The weight of years of harboured feelings.
The smell of alcohol loomed ever stronger as you felt the warmth of his breath against your lips.
“Are you guys joining for Quiplash or not?” A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped your lungs as Max’s voice broke through the air, and you jumped away from Lando.
“We should- um-”
He cleared his throat, casting his eyes back to the counter of assorted drinks in front of him, “Yeah, no, for sure.”
You moved past him to the door, not daring to look back as you made your way back to the party in the living room, heart beating with such ferocity you were sure it would give out before you got there.
Lando stood alone in his kitchen, the same quiet surrounding him as before, but heavier this time, like the air itself knew what that moment could have been.
He stared at your forgotten cup on the counter and pulled his lip between his teeth.
