im sorry i cant even think about the championship right now all i can think about is the way george and alex and carlos and all the other drivers he's known for so long are coming out to say how much he's grown this season and that he's going to win it...the way lando said he wants to be remembered more for the person he was than what he accomplished. all the love you give to the world will find it's way back to you
imagine that lando's and carlos' laundry gets mixed up but they don't even realize it because they already leave so much of each other's clothes in the other's house (carlos does notice some of his clothes that had mysteriously disappeared coming back to him, though, and that's how he figures their laundry was switched)
crawling back to you (ever thought of calling when you've had a few?)
ʚɞ rated m, 10.3k words, angsty carlando <3
Lando had always admired the way Carlos raced, but he hadn't realized how much he missed seeing it in a car equal to his, the dark green helmet — a much needed change after years of Ferrari red and yellow, if you asked Lando — tucked between the black and orange of the McLaren flying around the track.
Lando has food poisoning so have a soft Carlando moment while I cope with Nyck De Vries wearing Lando’s race suit lol.
Carlos is lying awake when his phone rings. It’s late enough in Brazil that he should be sleeping, but the time change is messing with his body. His phone is on Do Not Disturb, and concern flickers through as he reaches for it. Only a few people are set to get through, and they would only call if it’s an emergency.
It’s Lando.
“Lando,” Carlos picks up, sighing, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Don’t feel good,” Lando moans into the phone and it has Carlos bolting upright in the hotel bed.
“What’s going on, mi Amor?” Carlos pulls on the sweatpants discarded by his bed and pulls a discarded Ferrari shirt over his head.
“I- I think,” Lando pauses, shakes wracking through his body as he curls against the toilet, “I think maybe I ate something bad, I don’t-”
Carlos can hear him panting through the phone and his heart physically aches for him.
“I’m coming,” Carlos grabs his keycard off the counter next to the door and pads out into the hallway.
“Okay,” Lando sounds so small and sad and Carlos picks up the pace.
He uses the key that Lando had given him for ‘emergencies’, which at the time Carlos thought would be for playing video games or taking pre-race naps, but now is being used for actual emergencies, to get into Lando’s hotel room.
Lando is lying on the bathroom floor when he gets there.
“Lando,” Carlos crouches next to him.
His poor boy is flushed, heat ripping through his body as he shivers on the floor.
“Do you want to sit up?”
Lando shakes his head, groaning as a wave of nausea comes over him.
“You’re going to have to drink something at some point, okay?” Carlos reaches for a paper cup near the sink and starts to fill it.
“It won’t stay down,” Lando pants, pulling himself up to heave over the toilet.
Carlos fills the cup and sets it on the bathtub near Lando’s hunched figure. He rubs Lando’s back gently as he throws up, nothing coming up but bile at this point. There are tears streaming down Lando’s flushed cheeks and Carlos just wants to pull the sickness into himself and take it away from Lando so he doesn’t have to go through it anymore.
Lando leans his head against the toilet seat, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and fever.
“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” Carlos says, stroking his hair. All he feels is panic, but one of them has to be thinking clearly right now, and it’s definitely not going to be Lando. “I’m going to call Jon and we’re going to try and get your fever down a bit, okay?”
Lando nods slightly and Carlos presses a kiss to his forehead. “I know Jon isn’t a doctor but he’ll hopefully know what to do. More than I do, at least.”
“Don’t care,” Lando says quietly, “Just want you here.”
“I’m here, I’m here.” Carlos reassures him as Lando sniffs, fresh tears falling. “I know it’s awful, baby. I’m so sorry.”
He helps Lando to lay back down on the floor before standing up and grabbing a washcloth from the towel rack and running it under cool water. He uses one side of it to wipe gently at Lando’s mouth and then soaks it again, pressing the clean side to Lando’s head in an attempt to stop the fever.
He helps Lando lay against him, Carlos with his back against the sink, Lando with his head against Carlos’s chest. He tries to keep him as calm as possible, hoping Lando might be overcome with exhaustion and fall asleep, but they are interrupted every few minutes by waves of nausea.
Jon shows up about 30 minutes later with a team medic in tow. Carlos backs out of the bathroom to give them some space and to take a few deep breaths to stop the panic from overtaking him. He’s never seen Lando like this, so small and sickly.
Lando calls out for him from the bathroom, almost delirious with fever. The medic is prepping an IV and if Lando had more strength, Carlos knows Lando would be fighting him off.
”Lando doesn’t like needles,” Carlos supplies automatically, leaning against the bathroom door.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any other choice,” The doctor grimaces, “If I don’t get some fluids and meds into his system, he’s going to get dehydrated.”
Jon pushes to his feet and leads Carlos out of the bathroom. “Why don’t we find some clean clothes for Lando to change into?”
Carlos knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t mind. He needs the distraction, whether or not he wants to admit it to Jon.
“Is he going to be okay?” Carlos asks quietly as he rifles through Lando’s suitcase.
“I think he’ll be fine.” Jon takes the pair of sleep shorts from Carlos’ hands and sets them on the bed, “He probably will miss media tomorrow, though.”
Carlos nods. He pulls out a recognizable hoodie from Lando’s suitcase, the number 55 emblazoned on the back. It makes him smile softly.
“He’s in good hands, don’t worry,” Jon pats him on the back and heads back to the bathroom to check on Lando.
Between the fluids and the medication in the IV, Jon and the doctor manage to get Lando to the hotel bed. Carlos joins him, helping Lando to change into clean clothes, and letting his boyfriend rest his head on his chest.
The doctor tells them about as much as Jon could say and tells Lando that he will re-evaluate him in the morning. They leave them both with the instructions to sleep and hope for the best.
The door closes behind them, leaving Carlos and Lando alone and Carlos lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Lando is already fighting the sleep that’s trying to wash over him, scooting closer to Carlos.
“You need to sleep,” Carlos cuddles him closer.
Lando looks up at him, eyes wide and soft and so so brown, “Thank you. For coming and for staying.”
Carlos presses a kiss to his head, “Of course.”
“I love you,” Lando mumbles, closing his eyes.
”I love you too,” Carlos rubs his back, “Now sleep.”
Hope you enjoyed it! And hopefully Lando feels better for the race.
Read it on A03:https://archiveofourown.org/works/42995520
