Chapter Text
*****Lando*****
*****After Austria*****
“Are you mad at me?" Lando asked. "I’m sure you heard about me reporting you.”
Lando wished they weren’t talking over the phone. Except Lando was too scared to even use Facetime, apparently. But if it had been over text, he would have driving himself crazy wondering what tone was used or whatever.
Lando went on, “We said we’d treat each other just like every other competitor. And I didn’t have any chance of passing you when you kept getting that little advantage going out all the time. Or, it felt like all the time. I’d swear you did it way more than you got caught for, but I’m still sorry you got a penalty.”
“I think it’s shitty the way they handled track limits,” Lewis said. “Really shitty. But, you stayed in the lines and I didn’t. Shit happens. I’m not mad at you. I was snitching on anyone I saw after I got my first warning. I’m sorry I couldn’t get Checo ten more seconds to end up behind you. Well, really I’d prefer he finished out of the points.”
“I’m sure Aston analysed all of his laps to try to get Fernando higher. Mine too, I guess. Fernando said they thought they had a chance at me, but wouldn’t know until the Stewards’ decision. He knew Carlos was going down. I think he knew that before the race was over. He texted me ‘busted’ and then we talked about it all. I was still with people, so it was probably rude to be texting, but I could tell them that Aston was sure Carlos had a big penalty, so I don’t think anyone cared that I was texting.”
“You text with Fernando a lot?”
Oh?
“We text sometimes. I got to know him pretty well when he was still at McLaren, and I was a junior. In 2018 mostly. And I guess he wanted to keep up with what was happening around the paddock when he retired, and I guess I was one of his sources. Not for McLaren business, of course- though he was still around a lot. Probably he knew more than I did when he was a McLaren ambassador or whatever. But, yeah, I’d call us friends. Are you jealous?”
“Nah, man, he’s old. I don’t have any reason to suspect you like old guys. And I’m definitely not worried about you liking Spanish men.”
“You know I don’t want to date Carlos, right?” Lando asked, stomach feeling tight for a new reason. So many people thought that. “I mean, I do think he’s attractive- I wouldn’t try to lie about that. But, I mean, even if he weren’t straight, and didn’t think of me like a little brother, I mean, it just wouldn’t- work.”
“You don’t have to prove why you couldn’t or wouldn’t date anyone. It’s enough that you choose to date me without proving that you wouldn’t work with someone else. I’m sure you’d be a great fit for a lot of people. But you’re choosing to date me,” Lewis told him.
“That’s profound, mate,” Lando said, thinking of Max calling him that. Maybe he cringed a little at his own use of ‘mate’. They didn’t have pet names, and Lando wasn’t sure how to make that happen or if he should. “I miss you,” Lando admitted. They had already had separate travel plans, and hadn’t done anything about changing them. It wasn’t like they had to do everything together. Lando wished one of them had changed plans.
“I miss you too. We’ll find more time in the UK. Maybe you can come to my London place I’m never at. And the off week. It’ll be great. I’m so proud of you. It would have been so understandable for you to have a shit race after all the shit you’ve been through with the pictures. And those McLaren upgrades are fire. You deserve it. I wonder what they’ll bring next week. I’m jealous already. And I had fun racing you. I look forward to doing it more. Hopefully with me coming out ahead, but you’re welcome to wish for the opposite.”
One more thing.
“I’ll see my family at Silverstone,” Lando blurted. “I mean, also before, usually. A few times, sometimes. I thought I might… tell them I had a boyfriend.”
“That’s great. I would meet them properly, if you want,” Lewis offered. Like it wasn’t a big deal. “Same with you and my family. My brother and dad and Linda are coming to the race. And I’ll see my mum and sisters- and my niece and nephew, when I’m in the country this trip.”
“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’d like that. But maybe… after the race. I just… this is a big one, and I’m nervous enough already? Maybe I don’t need to add ‘meeting the family’ nerves?”
“Are you nervous about meeting mine or me meeting yours?”
“Definitely meeting yours. And maybe hoping that your dad hasn’t seen the picture that goes around sometimes of me meeting him when I was twelve.”
“You asked for a picture with my dad?”
“Obviously, yeah.”
“That’s really cute.”
“I would think it was really weird if someone wanted a picture of my dad just for being my dad. Which was totally what I was thinking at twelve. Not that he doesn’t deserve recognition- he does, obviously. Your dad, I mean. I mean, my dad’s also great, and I wouldn’t have made it through junior series without him. Not just for his money, but like coordinating everything, and support and all. I remember wanting to make a good impression on your dad. Like it would help me or something. I told him I was going to race with you at McLaren one day- also, you were probably already deep in talks with Mercedes by then, but I wouldn’t know that.”
“That might make it memorable. I really hope he remembers that.”
If Lewis wasn’t bothered, maybe his dad wouldn’t be either?
“Do you think they’ll like me?” Lando asked what he really cared about.
“You met my Uncle Terry. He liked you, I think. And you’ve definitely seen my dad around the track before. I’m sure you’ve shaken his hand. When I was standing there, even.”
“I've shaken his hand a few times, yeah, had some like… small talk. But that was before we were dating.”
“Everything’s going to work out fine. I don’t think anyone in my family has voiced an opinion on who I was dating since I was eighteen. Do you want me to warn them that I’m dating a guy?”
Fuck.
“They won’t care,” Lewis rushed to say.
“I- yeah, but I could- I guess if I’m there then it’s obvious, but I could at least be in the country first. To give you moral support?” Lando offered.
“I’m really not worried about it. It’ll be fine. I don’t think any of them will even be surprised. But you being around sounds nice. I should probably tell Toto too- which I’m also not worried about, to be clear.”
“Cool. Cool. You’re really not mad about the race? You can be mad. If you’re mad, I’d rather talk it through now then not talk about it.” Lando braced himself fot it.
“I’m not mad,” Lewis repeated. “I enjoyed racing with you. It was brilliant. I think we should have both been able to run wide there, but, yeah, it wasn’t fair me doing it and you not.”
“I did break track limits three times. I think it was George and Zhou that didn’t at all.”
“You’re allowed three times without penalty. It’s just bad strategy not to use those on a track like Austria.”
Lando breathed slowly.
“Thanks.”
*****Lando*****
*****British GP*****
Starting P2 was incredible. But he couldn’t afford to let it get to him. Starting P3 in Spain had been great, and that had gone to shit. It was probably good that he hadn’t been dating Lewis yet then. Though, since it didn’t fuck Lewis’s race, he probably wouldn’t have cared. Lewis had said something nice about him after, even. Probably he wouldn’t have been too mad anyway. Shit happened or whatever. Lando just had to try to not answer questions about if his crash was due to added pressure of being the first bisexual F1 driver. Some added ‘openly bisexual’ as part of the question, and some didn’t. He didn’t like the question either way. It was like not even his on track mistakes were just his anymore.
But, it had gone well in Austria.
Their car was good.
It still felt kinda horrible to drive. Lando was sure other F1 cars felt better. Oscar agreed, and he’d driven some others the year before- other than just McLarens. Danny obviously agreed.
But it was fast.
Not Red Bull fast, but fast enough to compete with anyone else, maybe. On some tracks at least. Lando wasn’t going to get ahead of himself.
And Lando had a terrifyingly talented young rookie teammate who was pushing him every step of the way. But that was good too. Lando liked Oscar. He was cool about the bisexual thing. He’d been rude to a reporter for Lando. In a ‘is he being rude or just not saying much because he’s a shy rookie?’ sort of way, but Lando knew it was rude. Oscar wasn’t really that shy or nervous with cameras.
Lando was really lucky to have McLaren behind him.
Luckier still for them to be starting P2 and P3.
The beginning of the season didn’t matter that much when no one was going to beat Max in that Red Bull over twenty three races.
Lando just wanted one. Not really- he’d want more wins after he got his first, he knew. But the first one… It wasn’t good to be distracted hoping for it. There were still more upgrades coming, even after this week, and Red Bull sounded like they were already focusing on the next car. If McLaren was going for an evolution of the car for next year instead of a redesign, the upgrades now would just help them later too. Even though Lando kind of wanted a total redesign to make the handling better. Just not at the price of speed.
Lando wasn’t going to lose another chance.
But he also wasn’t going to miss a podium on too crazy of a risk. McLaren supported him.
*****Lando*****
Second place.
At home.
In a year where everyone knew that second was practically the best anyone else could do.
A win probably still felt better, no matter how it happened, but this… this was fucking great.
Lando was still legitimately pissed off at everyone that had a hand in the hard tyre decision. Even though he knew Lewis’s tyres eventually fell off. If Lando’s softs had done that too, at least Lando would have been further down the road. He never even got to think about challenging Max- it was never an option on the hards, so he had time behind the safety car to worry about Lewis. Realistically, Lando wasn’t going to win the race. If he had made one small mistake, he would have been third. But it didn’t matter anymore. He had stayed ahead.
He almost couldn’t trust results at the end of the race anymore, after Austria. Not that Lando didn’t know that before. Carlos’s first podium would have been lesson enough if he’d still needed it by then. But this felt right. Clean.
Lando went over to Lewis first, hugged him when Lewis was barely out of the car. To make sure they were okay, maybe. That it was okay for Lando to be happy. Even if he trusted it to be okay after Austria, he still liked some reassurance.
Max might think that was weird. Or maybe a British thing. It was their home Grand Prix.
Second place at Silverstone!
Lando congratulated Max after.
Lando got weighed and got his drink.
Listened to Max give his interview.
Lando gave his own interview, thanking the fans and the factory, and everyone at McLaren- except he made a dig at the hard tyres. That had sucked, and he was going to be annoyed if everyone decided it was the right strategy move just because Lando made it work. A shoutout to Oscar, saying he should have been on the podium. Even though they all knew that was just how it worked. Sometimes split strategy sucked. Lando had asked to stay out. That could have bit him in the arse, but it hadn’t. Lewis had probably made the same call. Or someone at Mercedes. But Oscar had been really, really good. There wasn’t much he could do better.
Lewis got a louder cheer for his third than Lando’s second. Even though McLaren was way more British than Mercedes.
Lando didn’t care.
He was glad everyone in the country supported Lewis. Really, Lando included. Even if he wanted to win himself.
In the cool down room, Lewis pulled Lando to his feet and into a hug.
Their second hug after the race, but it was still just as special. Lando was going to remember every moment of this day. One of the best days ever.
“Want to snog on the podium?” Lewis whispered in his ear.
“Yes,” Lando answered automatically.
“You can think about it a second,” Lewis said. “Could cause trouble.”
Probably they were hugging for a long time.
That wouldn’t matter with what they were going to do in a few minutes.
Lewis Hamilton was going to come out on the podium at Silverstone. And they would be revealing their relationship on top of that.
That was the way to fucking do it.
“Yes,” Lando repeated, pulling back. He sat back in his chair. Max’s chair really, but Max had taken Lando’s first. Taking the wrong chair in the room was a bit of a joke by then. Lando would have picked Lewis’s, but that would have been putting a seat between himself and Max when they were talking, and that just would have been awkward. And maybe it was a little fun to sit in front of a number one. Even though he liked his 4. If he ever got the chance, he would at least put some thought into keeping his number like Lewis did, instead of taking number one.
Lando asked Max a question about what was happening on the screen to get Max talking again. That was always easy enough.
They didn’t talk about how they would do it, but Lando was sure it meant when the champagne was out.
The Dutch National Anthem had never felt so long. And the trophies presented by some people Lando didn’t know but probably should. The trophy. It was really cool. Finally the champagne.
Lando couldn’t miss his typical champagne opening move now.
When Lando sprayed, he was Lewis copying his move- not as well, but he got it open. Lando left some of his in the bottle. He’d see if he could offer it to Oscar without it seeming insulting.
Lewis was there when Lando turned from putting the bottle down.
A hand on his cheek. Meeting his eyes. They went in together.
Lando heard the louder roar.
A perfect day.
Someone- definitely Max- sprayed them with more champagne.
Lando would be rewatching this a lot- with Max cut out of frame, but the champagne spray was kinda hot.
Lewis pulled away, which was good, because Lando was likely to make a scene. Well, more of a scene. A less innocent scene.
“Interviews are going to be interesting,” Lando shouted to be heard.
“I’ve got you,” Lewis shouted back. Their hands found each other.
Lando turned and waved to the crowd with his other hand. He knew that Lewis did the same.