"you can find yourself where you belong" the title alone makes me feel all soft I just know the fic will hit (and would love to learn more ofc) 👀👀
So this is my oldest Carlando WIP that has been ongoing since January 2023! We’re currently up to chapter 8/12 which was last updated in November 2023.
Summary: Snapshots of Lando and Carlos’ relationship over the years as they navigate falling for each other.
It’s not without its challenges.
It’s also affectionately nicknamed Joy and Pain as it’s quite the emotional rollercoaster 😅
The idea was to just focus on the milestones of Carlando’s F1 careers through Lando’s POV while they also figure out their relationship.
So far we have his first ever car launch, Carlos’ first podium, Covid lockdown and the announcement of Carlos leaving for Ferrari, Lando’s first podium, their final race together as teammates, their first shared podium, and Lando’s crash at Spa that Carlos watched from the media pen. The next one up is Sochi which is why it’s essentially been on hiatus since because my mental health wouldn’t touch it 🥲💔
But I’m currently revisiting it now Lando is World Champion! Chapter 9 will cover Zandvoort, Monza, and Sochi 2021 (trust the process) 🏆
If you can’t guess already, the final few chapters will be Carlos’ first win, their first 1-2, Lando’s first win, and then there will now be an added one of his winning the wdc! 🥳
How many words do we think I can get done before I’m away for the weekend? 😅 Or even over the weekend whilst I’m away and furiously typing on my phone every spare second I get 🫣✍🏼
Are you still writing for you can find yourself where you belong? I love the story
Sorry for only just seeing this, Anon! Thank you so much for your message 🧡
Yes! YCFYWYB is still a work in progress, and I can’t believe the last update was after the Vegas race last year, please accept my apologies 😭
It’s one of my most prized possessions and I’m determined to finish it, I just don’t know how long it will take 🫠 There’s four chapters left which sounds manageable, just the Sochi chapter has been giving me grief for forever now and it’s been very difficult to get my head around. (You’d think after Miami I’d be absolutely fine, but I think it’s just now the season is so much more emotionally taxing as a Lando fan, it’s more complicated 🫣).
It makes me so happy to still get comments asking about this fic, so thank you! We’ll get there, I promise 🥹🧡
Today has reminded me I still have to write Sochi 2021 into you can find yourself where you belong and I might have a stab at channeling my anger and upset into that 🫠✍🏼
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
Excuse me while I ramble about one of my WIPs for a bit.
I’m up to chapter 9 of you can find yourself where you belong, and it’s Sochi, and it’s like I have an intense emotional reaction every time I try and add anything to this damn chapter because of the high emotional pain associated with that race 😫
Chapter summary: A (platonic) golf date, Carlando’s first podium together, and some celebratory feelings.
Chapter: 7/12 (WIP)
Rating: T
Word count: 4,527
Read on AO3 🧡 | or read below 👇🏼
~
Whack!
Lando’s drive was fairly strong, the ball curving slightly to the right as they both watched it soar into the distance. Could’ve been worse. It wasn’t an outright slice, but it hadn’t gone where he’d wanted it either.
“That was good! Your swing is getting better, no?”
Lando picked up his golf tee as they headed back over to the buggy. “Yeah? I’m definitely hitting it further now, just need to work on the direction more.”
Carlos shoulder-bumped him as they put their clubs away. “You’ll get there, it takes practice.”
“Good thing I’ve got a half-decent teacher then isn’t it!” Lando hip-bumped him back.
Carlos winked as they jumped into the buggy. It was his turn to drive. “Ay, I don’t know, there might be some natural talent in there somewhere.”
Lando gasped dramatically, making sure not to fall out. “Wow! You’ve heard it here first everyone! The highest of praises from professional golfer Mr Carlos Sainz! When I’m playing in the Open one day and I win, I’ll be sure to take all the credit and give absolutely none to you. That’s fine with me, glad we straightened that out, my very best friend!”
He squawked when Carlos elbowed him.
Their giggles subsided and they settled into comfortable silence as Carlos continued to drive the buggy to where their golf balls landed. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and it was pleasantly warm enough Lando was wearing a thin black jumper, black training leggings, sunglasses and a white cap. Carlos was dressed fancier and more professional in his white polo and chinos which really put Lando to shame. He should probably invest in some actual golf clothes.
They were in the hills above Monte-Carlo, making the most of their brief time off before the upcoming race week where they’d be in their respective teams. Carlos had suggested golf and Lando had excitedly agreed, the game rapidly growing on him since Carlos had introduced him to it last year.
A good few drivers lived in Monaco so a lot of them were hanging out or having dinner together, or simply going about their daily lives. Lando himself was already looking at joining them in their residence here, spreading his wings a little bit. He always loved coming to Monaco for the races, he loved the sea, the quaint buildings and narrow streets, and the high level of security and privacy on offer. He could see himself living here.
And with the new pay bracket negotiated with his new (as of yet unannounced) McLaren contract, he could definitely afford to, tax perks aside.
He loved his suburban Woking house, loved the close proximity to the factory, and loved being not too far from his family. It just felt like the right time to explore other options.
When he first moved in with Sacha, his parents made the point of ensuring Lando looked after all the paperwork, so he understood what he was in control of; what to pay when and what he was responsible for. Another step in the agreement he had with them with regards to not financially helping him out. He was grateful for it, the push to be independent and not rely on his background whilst always acknowledging the privilege he held.
The invaluable skills he learned had even helped with the formation of Quadrant, Lando able to do a lot of the business start-up negotiations himself with a bit of help. And now he was the CEO with a solid team working for him that he trusted, and the company and brand were doing very well.
He’d always had a close relationship with his parents and siblings, it was something he treasured, and Lando was happy to pay his parents back in whatever ways he could after all they’d done to support his career. His dad tagged along to most races to support him, his mum, siblings, and other family members where they could. His older brother Oli and his fiancée Sav had just announced they were expecting their first baby, Lando’s first niece or nephew. It wasn’t a bad life at all, and he was grateful for all the opportunities he had and how close he was to his family.
And being a flight away from them all wouldn’t change anything.
For now, back in England, a new priority thrown in the works was Max Fewtrell.
One of his best friends, who’d been racing for as long as Lando had, had taken an impromptu sabbatical from the sport last summer for mental health reasons. Lando had kept in touch where he could, but he knew Max was struggling with the sudden halt - racing occupied their whole lives and to suddenly not do that anymore after 12 years? Lando had had a small taste during the lockdown, but they’d simply been waiting for the season to start later on in the year, he wasn’t sure how he’d cope with suddenly not racing anymore for good, even if it was his own decision for his health.
Lando had struggled immensely with his mental health over the last two years, but he’d been supported every step of the way by his team (as he still was), his seat not in jeopardy. Max had still been in the juniors, self-funded and seat not secure, giving up his chance to advance further up the ranks.
Lando hugely admired Max for putting himself first. He knew it wasn’t easy for him, not by a long shot. He was getting a lot of help away from the racetrack, and Lando himself knew how much work was involved with that alone, but he still hated seeing his friend suffer. He wanted to help out where he could, putting minimal stress on Max in the process.
As they departed the buggy with their clubs, walking over to Lando’s ball, Carlos glanced over at him, eyebrows raised, asking without words what was going through his mind, knowing Lando was stuck in his head. He loved that they could still communicate like this despite not seeing each other constantly anymore, and Lando sighed, swinging his club absentmindedly.
“I think Max might be coming to live with me for a bit.”
Carlos frowned, cocking his head. “Fewtrell? Is everything okay?”
Lando nodded, approaching his ball, beginning to go through the motions of checking where to try and hit it.
“He’s been having a rough time. His F3 season didn’t end well last year, and his family are in the process of moving again, and I think he’s just a bit lost.” Lando didn’t want to spill all the details, he respected Max’s privacy too much for that. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, his family are basically mine, and he’s such a great guy who deserves the world, you know? If I can do anything to help I want to be there for him.”
He couldn’t help but smile at all their memories over the years, all the laughs and how they could understand each other with minimal words. It was like what he had with Carlos, only it was mutually platonic. His romantic feelings for Carlos were still there, still strong, especially in the small moments like this when they were alone, only more adjusted to knowing Carlos didn’t feel the same back. He was okay with that now. Their friendship was more important to him.
“Well, he’s like another brother really. I know he’d do the same for me in a heartbeat and maybe not being alone might be a good thing for both of us.”
“You’re a good friend, Lando.” Carlos’ voice was soft and warm, and Lando was touched by the emotion he could hear behind it.
He simply nodded in acknowledgement, doing a few practice swings before lining up and taking the shot. It looked to go where he wanted it this time which pleased him. He could have put more power behind it though as it was a bit short of the green along the fairway.
They started walking again, this time to track down Carlos’ so he could take his next shot. Carlos listened as he kept talking.
“He’d be a great addition to Quadrant too, with his racing and gaming experience. I’m just afraid he’ll say no because he won’t want people to think I’m only helping him out and giving him a job because we’re mates and we live together. I don’t want to put him through that, he’s been through enough already.”
They reached Carlos’ ball but instead of moving to take the shot, Carlos turned to Lando and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Ay, you’re not responsible for his racing career, Lando. Max still had to get himself there on talent like we all did. Like you say, his competitive racing experience will be highly respected, and I’ve seen you two play together on streams. He’s a very likeable guy, he already has his own following. Taking a break from racing means he’s currently in the perfect position to join you, whether you’re living together or not. You can be friends with those you work with you know.”
Look at us hung in the air between them as Carlos grinned. Lando gave him a flat look back that said thanks for your very helpful input, Carlos, our friendship doesn’t count as it’s not the same situation.
Carlos simply shrugged like there was no further argument to be made. “Who cares what people think? Max, if I might add, -” he poked Lando in the ribs, “- is also capable of making his own decisions and being his own person in this. Don’t make them for him, cabrón. Talk to him.”
Lando sighed dramatically as Carlos turned away from him to continue playing. “I know, I know. I just don’t want to fuck it up. I care about him, a lot.”
Carlos lined up and took his shot, which sailed perfectly through the air, landing near the flag ready for a birdie putt. “That, my dear muppet friend, is why we all put up with you.”
Lando shoved him into the rough as Carlos cackled.
He knew Carlos had a point though.
~
The race went even better than he could have hoped.
Fifth in Qualifying quickly turned into fourth come Race Day when Charles’ left driveshaft broke on the reconnaissance lap. This swiftly became third not even halfway through the race when Valtteri Bottas endured the world’s longest pitstop and had to retire as Mercedes couldn’t get the right front tyre off.
Max P1, Carlos P2, Lando P3.
At Monaco, where it was almost impossible to overtake, that was an as good as guaranteed podium. His mum had told him before the race he would come third, stating it like there was absolutely no doubt it would happen regardless of him starting P5. Well, he’d be sure to call her back after the ceremony. He just had to see it through first.
The car, all decked out in a special baby blue and orange livery for one of McLaren’s sponsors, was far from the fastest, but he’d lucked out with Mercedes and Ferrari (Carlos aside) having the worst of bad weekends. Charles had crashed right at the end of qualifying, no doubt the ultimate cause of the driveshaft failure, and Lewis had skimmed the barrier at Portier, resulting in only a P7 start. Bottas’ pitstop was adding insult to injury.
Despite the car not being the best in pace compared to his rivals, he still ended up lapping Daniel along Beau Rivage with 26 laps still to go, who wasn’t even doing that badly in P12, just the relative pace made it look like he was doing worse. The gap to Carlos ahead of him was under ten seconds with minimal traffic but his priority was to keep the second Red Bull behind him. The podium would be his as long as Checo didn’t get past him, and Lando was quickly confident as his engineer kept telling him the gap and how Checo’s lap times were safely slower. Lando remained uncomplacent all the same, pushing and managing as needed and he cruised to the chequered flag with a healthy gap behind him.
Lando couldn’t stop smiling as he climbed out of his car.
Monaco baby!
A Monaco Podium. Third of his career, another 3rd place finish in Formula 1.
And this time shared with Carlos.
It wasn’t a 1-2 but Lando would take it any day.
He got weighed in his kit and before he could even take his helmet off Carlos was there and they were hugging, short and sweet but squeezed tightly with all the emotions of former teammates turned best friends sharing a podium for the first time in Formula 1. Taking their helmets off and putting face masks on, Lando’s even matching his special suit, the two of them couldn’t be separated as they waited together for their post-race interviews, chatting together and simply enjoying the moment.
When Lando got called for his interview, he wasn’t on his own for very long before Carlos joined him anyway, and Lando was too giddy to care about professionalism as he playfully shoved Carlos, the interviewer more than happy to indulge them both as they teased each other.
“For once I’m happy to share a podium,” Carlos said and Lando was glad for his face mask as he knew he was blushing furiously, but he continued to shove Carlos anyway who just shoved him back and Lando delighted in the sparkle present in Carlos’ huge brown eyes. Pure happiness, both of them unable to keep their hands off each other, proud to be able to stand on the podium side by side.
Though Lando couldn’t help but imagine them unable to keep their hands off each other in a completely different scenario.
Thank fuck for the face mask, truly.
Up on the podium, after the formal presentation, Carlos wasted no time coming straight for him with the champagne, Lando managing to turn his back to keep the champagne out of his face, shoving Carlos playfully away before slamming his bottle on the floor for his signature spike and then fully and shamelessly attacking Carlos back, aiming straight for his face.
The sheer joy he felt, celebrating up there, in Monaco, with Carlos no less, was like nothing he’d ever felt. It had always seemed inevitable that they’d share one together at some point in their careers, but Lando would probably bet his trophy that neither of them expected it to happen in their first year in different teams. For both of them to get more podiums individually? Absolutely.
But both of them together on the same podium? Pretty unlikely.
He made sure to catch Max in the face too, the Dutchman well and truly in the fight for the Championship against Lewis this season. Lando couldn’t help but root for him, Max was another close friend on the grid and as much as he liked and respected seven-time champion Lewis, Max fully deserved his shot at a title.
As they all clinked bottles together as the celebrations calmed down, Max leaned in eyeing both Lando and Carlos.
“So, FIFA later? My place?”
Lando couldn’t help but laugh as they fist-bumped. Max Verstappen, having just won the Monaco Grand Prix for the first time, wanted to celebrate by playing a video game with his mates. Lando was horrendous at FIFA, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say no. Monaco afterparties in the clubs could be the worst on the entire calendar and a chill night in sounded perfect.
Carlos fist-bumped Max before hip-bumping Lando. “¡Vamos! We’ll bring the beer!”
~
They made it back to Max’s apartment once the debriefs were over and done with. Invitations had been extended to George, Alex, Pierre, and Charles, but George and Alex excused themselves to have an early night as Alex was needed back in the Red Bull simulator the following day, and Charles had wanted to go clubbing to no doubt drown his non-existent race sorrows at the bottom of some hard liquor.
So, it was just Daniel, Max, Lando and Carlos. It didn’t escape Lando’s notice that they all had a habit of automatically pairing up in duos, friendship or otherwise, whether it was former teammates like he and Carlos and Max and Daniel, or childhood family friends like Charles and Pierre. Then karting turned single-seater racing friends like George and Alex and Esteban and Lance, (much like how Lando had first met both Max’s – Fewtrell and Verstappen), to former rivals turned friends like Sebastian and Lewis.
Most drivers got along well with the rest of the grid around them, but certain duos were hard to ignore as they would always gravitate together. Given the nature of their sport, the constant travelling around the world and competing against each other, how young you start competitive racing and just how much time you spend over the years with the same people, it wasn’t really that surprising that some solid friendships came of it.
Platonic mostly, but sometimes definitely more.
Max had helped out Lando a lot. When they’d played off-stream together pre-season, Lando had admitted he’d slept with a guy for the first time in Dubai, and it didn’t take the Dutchman much brain power to realise exactly how Lando had ended up with COVID over the winter break. Max had also come out to him as bisexual, though it was pretty much an open secret already, and they’d been able to have a really helpful and in-depth discussion about sleeping with other guys without attracting public attention and causing a scandal. Max had been his wingman at afterparties since, putting Lando in contact with people he trusted or keeping a close eye on things if Lando found someone himself he ended up sleeping with.
It was fun to explore his sexuality more, especially in safety and near-guaranteed secrecy.
Max had also admitted to his arrangement with Daniel which was essentially all that sex possibly entailed without too much attachment, or so Max claimed. Lando also knew Daniel was queer, Daniel himself had mentioned several times without explicitly labelling it, dropping it in casual conversation now and then. Lando wasn’t out to Daniel yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he was. He and Daniel were slowly gelling together as a teammate pairing, and Lando knew he was under no pressure whatsoever to talk about anything he wasn’t ready for. He liked Daniel, and it was nothing against him, Lando just wasn’t as confident yet.
He had no doubt Daniel would stay over when Lando and Carlos headed back to their respective hotels. It was none of his business, though, if anything, it did give him hope that he could be happy in the future.
Max put FIFA on, Daniel grabbed some beers from the case Carlos had purchased on the way, opening them, and passing them out, Max already with a gin and tonic on the coffee table. Lando helped himself to some lemonade from the kitchen, Jimmy and Sassy, Max’s Bengal cats, running around his feet.
Daniel was on one couch next to Max, so Lando headed to the other one next to Carlos. The couches were big enough for three people but as Lando sat down Carlos automatically moved up beside him, their thighs touching, and Lando couldn’t help but smile back when Carlos turned to him. It was just their thing.
Max and Carlos played 1v1, Daniel and Lando trying unhelpfully to give them tips. When Carlos inevitably lost to Max 7-4, Lando was immediately demanding Carlos hand over the controller so he could have a go and Carlos took the opportunity to start a play fight, purposely reaching high behind him so Lando couldn’t reach it.
When Lando automatically sat in his lap in protest, Carlos surrounded his waist with his arms to hand over the controller and Lando found his brain almost short-circuiting, so he grabbed the controller and sat on the floor between Carlos’ legs, feeling a rush of embarrassment. It didn’t help that he caught Max’s eyes on the other couch who raised his eyebrows in a knowing look. Lando stuck his tongue out.
Carlos then took it upon himself to distract Lando as much as he could by waving his feet in front of his face. Lando tried his hardest to swat them away. Thankfully they didn’t stink.
“Surely you should be trying to do this to Max so I can win,” he groused, moving erratically to be able to still see the screen.
Carlos chuckled. “Max has Dan to annoy him, that leaves me to annoy you.”
Daniel heard Carlos loud and clear as he heard Max yell, “Daniel!” in response. A glance up showed Daniel all but hugging Max from behind, having yanked him over to his side of the sofa, Max all but draped across his lap.
“He is my teammate Max, gotta help him out a little.”
Lando did not fixate on Daniel’s hands wrapped so easily around Max’s waist and how he pictured Carlos doing the same thing, fingers stroking across bare skin visible from his t-shirt riding up.
“He’s your rival! You should be helping me out!” Max complained.
Lando decided not to bring up the fact that both Daniel and Carlos were ex-teammates of Max. He didn’t fancy getting ganged up on. Two-and-two was much fairer.
Carlos quickly gave up on distracting Lando with his feet, instead bracketing Lando’s body with his legs, allowing Lando to lean his head back against the edge of the sofa between them, Lando trying desperately to avoid thinking of Carlos running his hands through his hair that was perfectly within his reach. One of Max’s cats, Lando couldn’t tell which was which, kept headbutting his thigh until he stroked him.
When Lando got thrashed by Max 10-1, Carlos demanded the controller back which Lando surrendered without a fight. He knew he wasn’t going to win; he was just enjoying the night spending time with his friends like this. There wasn’t a right or wrong way to celebrate a podium, and this was a lot of fun.
He tuned out the gameplay for a bit, content to sit on the floor on his phone, leaning his head against Carlos’ right knee, absently stroking whichever of Max’s cats curled up beside him.
Replying to some texts, including ones from his sisters and Max back in England congratulating him, he ended up slowly getting more tired, the high of the weekend finally crashing over him.
He didn’t fall asleep or close his eyes, he was just comfortable feeling Carlos’ body warmth surrounding him and enjoying being close again. He missed when they would share connecting rooms during race weekends as it was so easy to spend time together. Now, with them both in rival teams, almost always in separate hotels and Carlos having to abide by strict Ferrari rules, it was easy to miss the casual physical closeness they’d shared as teammates sometimes.
He had gotten better at sleeping alone on race weekends. He refused to go to Daniel when he had a bad night, that just felt wrong. He had his mental health coach for that.
“Aww, baby bear’s getting tired, I think it’s bedtime!”
Daniel’s voice snapped Lando out of his thoughts pretty quickly. He jerked upright, realising too late that Carlos’ hand had been resting under his head as a cushion and he wondered just when the fuck that had happened.
“Fuck, sorry, I should probably go,” Lando agreed, clearing his throat, and scrambling up from the floor. He needed to arrange transport back to the hotel and he wasn’t at all in the mood for engaging with the minority of fans who would have stuck around to gawk at him as he entered the lobby.
He picked up his phone which was spectacularly low on battery and was going to send Jon a text when Carlos got there first.
“Caco’s sending a driver, cabrón, don’t worry. Jon knows. We’ll get dropped off at the back door.”
Lando could have kissed him.
“Oh, okay, thanks.” Lando smiled, grateful Carlos knew him all too well, as he sat back heavily on the sofa.
A short while later, after bidding Max and Daniel goodbye, knowing he’d see Max in Baku in two weeks and Daniel back at the factory in a few days, Lando followed Carlos out of the apartment complex straight into the waiting car. They were in the more private residential area of Monaco so didn’t need to worry about fans here and Lando was able to breathe a little easier already knowing he wasn’t going to be crowded.
The ride passed in companionable silence and upon exiting the car, Carlos walked him right to the back door of his hotel, which was wholly unnecessary, but Lando appreciated it all the same.
He leapt the two steps to the stone porch and turned around, leaning against the wall and meeting Carlos’ gaze, the soft streetlights bathing him in a soothing glow, his fluffy dark hair illuminated and Lando fought hard not to lick his lips. Carlos was simply looking up at him, Lando unable to decipher the emotions swirling there but he couldn’t help but blush and glance down at the floor.
It felt more than they’d ever shared before.
It was confusing. There was a heaviness between them in the air like Carlos was itching to reach out and touch him but stopping himself, as if they hadn’t been practically joined at the hip all evening. Lando didn’t know what else to do with that, feeling an ache deep in his chest.
How many times had he wished for this? For Carlos to look at him like he was the only thing that mattered?
He found himself desperately wanting more, only he couldn’t bring himself to act on whatever this was. It didn’t feel platonic between them anymore. He didn’t want to part company with his best friend but for some reason, inviting him up this time felt like a boundary neither of them was ready to cross.
Lando wasn’t going to risk throwing his heart away.
They both deserved better than that.
And that was when it hit him that Carlos hadn’t even asked him for anything and Lando berated himself for assuming he even wanted anything. They were friends. That was it. Carlos was straight. There was nothing more to it. They were just best friends saying goodbye to each other for another fortnight.
Lando was being an idiot.
The silence was too loud. One of them needed to say something.
“Goodnight, Lando. Sleep well,” Carlos whispered and Lando took that as his cue to disappear, mumbling out a response as he swiped his key card and let the door shut behind him. He didn’t look back, but he could feel the warm gaze from his favourite brown eyes wash over him as he walked further into the hotel, alone.
Chapter summary: Carlando’s final race weekend as teammates, then Lando spends New Year in Dubai.
Chapter: 6/12 (WIP)
Rating: T
Word count: 2,639
Warnings: some arguably unsafe behaviour from Lando in the later part of the chapter. It’s all safe and consensual acts, but I would call it risky with the country he is in, and it results in him contracting covid. Implied sexual content.
Read on AO3 🧡 | or read below 👇🏼
~
The rest of the season continued with a grand haul of points from both him and Carlos.
Another P5 at Silverstone. P4s in Monza and Bahrain and only one DNF in Germany. Only three times he finished outside the points, and by Abu Dhabi, they were P3 in the Constructors championship and Lando was both giddy and filled with rapidly growing sadness.
It was Carlos’ last race with the team.
Their last race together as teammates.
Carlos would leave McLaren and England, relocate to Maranello over Christmas break and his time with Ferrari would begin.
He’d see Carlos in red next year.
Carlos was evidently feeling the looming separation as much as Lando, as he noticed the increase in his friend’s casual touches from race to race, both in frequency and length. From an arm around his shoulder in the garage, to lingering handshakes after track sessions, to nudges of his elbow anytime they were together, to absolutely zero personal space in driver’s briefings and media and marketing videos.
Lando returned them in kind, two best friends sharing a bond they knew wasn’t going to be the same come the end of the year. Carlos already spent as much time hanging out in Lando’s driver's room during the weekend as he could, and Lando made sure they made the most of it by watching stupid videos to hear Carlos laugh.
They got to celebrate another podium when Carlos took the chequered flag less than a car length behind Pierre in Monza, and that was one of many nights they shared a bed, platonically, clothed in T-shirts and shorts. Lando quickly found he slept much better with Carlos beside him and with their rooms having an interconnecting door at almost every race, it became an easy habit to end up in one of their beds at some point during the weekend, always respectful and platonic.
It was after a disastrous race for Carlos at Mugello where he was involved in a scary crash during a safety car restart that he admitted he was not with Isa anymore.
Lando wasn’t too surprised she wasn’t there in Italy since he hadn’t seen her come to a race since Spain, Carlos brushing it off with her having a new job, but he was surprised they actually broke up because they’d been together for a very long time.
They were both in Carlos’ bed facing each other, Lando quietly listening while Carlos told him everything. How they’d fallen together at the start of his F1 career, and she quickly became a rock through his challenges at Toro Rosso through to Renault and how the move to McLaren ultimately saved his career. He and Isa loved each other deeply, and Carlos was happy for her in her new job, but they talked a lot during the weeks of the two British GPs and found their priorities were shifting and were better off as friends.
They’d officially called it quits after Spain and Lando suddenly put together why Carlos had been so much more miserable in Belgium than he was expecting. Carlos hadn’t even started that race after an exhaust failure on his out lap to the grid, but now Lando thought about it, he’d already been slightly off the whole week, zoning out during the briefings and only giving short answers to the media. Lando had just doubled his efforts into making him smile, assuming he was under the weather or something. Not even getting to race that weekend and work off some post-break-up blues would have sucked.
Carlos then tried to apologise for not telling him until then and Lando shoved him lightly in the chest, assuring Carlos he was still entitled to his privacy, even with him. Unlike most relationships on the grid, Carlos and Isa managed to keep theirs private and quiet, and Lando had always respected that.
Though there was a small part of him that was happy Carlos was potentially single.
But he shoved that thought to the very back of his mind.
The fact that Abu Dhabi was finally their last time racing together as teammates hung over Lando the whole day, and it was very difficult to keep his voice sounding normal whenever he spoke. Memories of the past two years swam around his brain, clouding over his eyes through breakfast and morning meetings, threatening to spill over and interfere with his focus.
The first car launch, how Carlos had calmed him down from his panic attack.
Lando’s first race, in Melbourne, thousands of miles from his home, and how Carlos had been so patient with him when Lando had been a moody-anxious fuck after not getting a wink of sleep the night before.
Carlos’ unorthodox first podium in Brazil, how he’d insisted on celebrating with Lando and the entire team rather than just on his own.
Lando’s first podium, and how Carlos and the entire team had waited for him to finish his media duties to celebrate with him outside the garage.
All of the challenges over the years, Carlos teaching him Spanish, Carlos asking him questions as they hot lapped, Carlos completely mispronouncing Mariah Carey’s name that had Lando doubled over with tears of mirth in his eyes and pain in his ribs.
Carlos had always been there.
Lando felt his chest ache at the thought of managing on his own.
When Carlos took a few minutes to give a speech prior to getting into their cars for the race, Lando couldn’t look at his face, not trusting himself not to burst into tears if they locked eyes. His pre-race routine helped to keep his focus in check, and by the time they were on the grid with the five lights coming on, he thought of nothing else but his own race strategy.
Lando and Carlos took the chequered flag in P5 and P6 respectively, and McLaren were officially crowned Third in the Constructors Championship, Lando narrowly missing out on breaking triple digits with 97 points in 9th Place, whilst Carlos just pipped him to the post with 105 in 6th Place.
Lando had told himself that he wouldn’t cry, but finally swapping helmets with Carlos nearly set him off. Writing an emotional goodbye message, to the ceremonial feel of the swap itself, to then reading Carlos’s words to him aloud, had him choking up.
To my muppet friend,
Fun, fast, hard worker, but most importantly, a great guy.
See you on track!
After all the debriefs, team photos and helping the boys with packing up the garage, something Lando always liked helping with at the end of seasons, the helmet swap was the final thing they did in the Yas Marina paddock together before heading back to the hotel.
There were team celebrations in the bar, and he found himself squashed between Carlos and Rupert, who they were also obviously losing and enjoyed taking in the banter and conversations as he sat there with a carton of milk surrounded by laughter and smiles. There were more photographs and shirt and card signings that reminded Lando of his last day of school before he fully dedicated his life to Formula 1, and then Carlos was offering his arm to lead him up to bed as he was yawning, on the edge of falling asleep in the bar.
Once showered and curled up under the sheets, Lando’s emotional dam shattered, and he found his tears fully flowing out of his control. His mind was so loud, disjointed thoughts whizzing around in the invisible space behind his eyelids. His heart was broken, and his chest was constricting, and there were stars in his eyes where the palms of his hands were pushing into his skin and -
“Oh Lando, come here.”
And Carlos was there, all warmth and safety, all soft whispers and cosy limbs. Lando was underwater and Carlos was his life jacket, and Lando felt himself surrender, drifting in the storm knowing Carlos would help him breathe.
When Lando finally calmed down and fell asleep in his arms, Carlos was also crying.
~
Lando fucked up.
Big time.
It was the last two days of December and he was in Dubai ready for a pre-season training camp, having deliberately flown over early to give himself a few days to himself because he was 21 and fully capable of booking himself a solo trip.
Absolutely not because he was running away from his feelings.
Nope.
Jon would join him a few days after New Year as he was still spending time with his family. Lando had spent Christmas with his own family in Glastonbury, and while it had been nice to get back to home comforts after spending most of the year constantly on the move around the world, Lando felt like he was suffocating.
The trouble with England was that everything reminded him of Carlos. Driving past the Woking train station had him thinking of lint rollers, the airport where the team flew from reminded him of sharing EarPods on long haul flights, the corner shop two streets away from Lando’s house they’d stop at on the way back from a long day in the simulator to pick up the only brand of fajitas Carlos would eat. His Netflix recommendations were full of things Carlos had saved and begged him to watch, and he still had a number of Carlos’ hoodies littered around his house.
Carlos, who was gone, spending Christmas with his family in Spain before moving across the continent to Italy for the duration of his Ferarri contract.
Further away from Lando.
Who was… not dealing well.
The first meeting together with Daniel Ricciardo at the MTC went horribly, at least that was how it felt to Lando. While Daniel was all wide grins and laughter which should have put him at ease, as they’d always gotten along before, Lando only felt his stomach twisting and his hands clamming up, heart thudding in his chest. He really liked Daniel, everyone liked Daniel, he was cheerful and silly, always ready to crack a joke to bring a smile to everyone’s faces.
But Lando found he just couldn’t match his energy.
He wasn’t Carlos, and the worst part was that Lando’s demeanour was noticeable to the team around them.
Charlotte took him aside during one of their breaks and reassured him that working with someone different would take time, like Lando hadn’t had a stream of different teammates back in the junior categories – but he’d never been as close to any of his teammates as he was to Carlos and all of the change was new and difficult. He’d just forced a smile and nodded at her and brought Daniel a coffee to the next meeting as a peace offering. If he had to make it twice because he’d automatically made it the way Carlos liked it before he caught himself, nobody needed to know.
The hotel he was staying at in Dubai was, of course, one of McLaren’s partners, and out here it was nothing short of a resort rather than a plain hotel building, with its stunning views over the creek, huge rooftop pool and spa, its own business centre, and state of the art gym.
Its British-themed bar was his favourite, featuring a mock-up of a tube stop sign and a full-size London telephone box, and he quickly discovered it was full of European expats on business trips.
And he quickly found out that was, in fact, some kind of secret code.
And that (accidentally) blatantly eye-fucking a hot young man in said bar when he thought he was subtle gains him the right to the passcode for a “New Year’s” party in Business Suite 69. Off the record.
Because the United Arab Emirates was one of many countries in the world where being gay or anything other than straight was illegal. The Hilton wasn’t the British embassy, but it still felt like some measure of safety and the only reason he even went to the party was because the hot young man he’d been chatting with in the bar, Lucas (pronounced Luca), who was 23 and half French, had offered to meet him there.
They chatted some more over the music and then they were kissing, Lando letting his hand run through Lucas’ dark hair, enjoying the way his body reacted to every slight way Lucas touched him over his linen shirt. He felt so energised, being with girls had nothing on this. It was electrifying and Lucas knew how to hold him, where to kiss his neck, where to stroke his fingers to tease him.
They ended up back in Lando’s room, having walked up together like two mates just hanging out to avoid attention. Lucas was gentle and slow, guiding Lando through all the fumbling firsts to the very edge of ecstasy, whispering reassurances and mapping out on his skin how beautiful and perfect he was. Lando’s vision whited out as he crashed over the edge and he fell asleep in a cocoon of warmth, smiling at how sated and relaxed and fuzzy he felt despite the noise of fireworks outside. Lucas was gone when he woke up in the morning.
It was when he couldn’t taste his morning smoothie three days later that he panicked.
He called down to reception for a covid test to be delivered to his room which gets left outside his door. Not being able to bring himself to take it, he called Jon and threw himself backwards on his bed, eyes boring into the test on his bedside table. Unable to lie to his trainer, he quickly spilled everything before rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillows.
Yes, he’s at the Al Jadaf Hilton.
Yes, he has symptoms.
Yes, he’s got a covid test.
Yes, he’s had contact with people.
Yes, he had intimate contact with someone.
Yes, they used a condom.
No, he hasn’t seen Lucas since.
Yes, he could describe him if asked.
No, he hasn’t taken the test yet.
Yes, he can follow Jon’s breathing.
The test was indeed positive and from there he informed the reception so they could take precautions with the rest of the guests and set up an isolation meal plan for him.
It meant Lando was stuck in his hotel suite for the next two weeks, so much for the pre-season training. Though Jon assured him that he would have equipment sent to Lando’s suite so they could train over the phone as they had during the lockdown.
Instagram was then pretty much his only communication method with the outside world other than phone calls because of the many social media apps banned in the UAE, and he cursed himself for not listening to Max and Tom telling him to put a VPN on his phone.
Carlos called him as soon as he read his messages, and Lando hated that he couldn’t see his face. At least, he did until it came to admitting how he’d most likely ended up with the virus in the first place, and was sat with his arm over his eyes anyway as he told Carlos he’d slept with a guy for the first time. They ended up arguing over Lando’s safety and Lando almost hung up on him except that it was Carlos and Lando knew it was because he cared. He got an earful from his parents too.
Lando spent the two miserable weeks in isolation working out, forcing down the food he couldn’t taste, on calls with his mates, his family, and Zak Brown, and looking at photos of Carlos’ new apartment.
When he was finally allowed to fly back to England, his first instinct was to seek out Carlos until he remembered Carlos wasn’t there anymore.
