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As he made his way through the crowded benefit banquet, Lightning kept glancing around, hoping to find a familiar face. He hated coming to these events, even though he always supported the causes—tonight in particular the benefit was raising money for free tickets to races for youth interested in racing who may not have the finances to buy their own tickets. Lightning loved interacting with his fans, especially when he could tell they genuinely had a passion for racing. Benefactors and higher-ups in the industry on the other hand...
“Oh, Mr. McQueen! Over here!” called a shrill voice, shaking Lightning from his thoughts.
Lighting abruptly stopped walking at the command and begrudgingly made his way towards the owner of the voice—the husband of the main sponsor of Dinoco-Rust-eeze, the company he raced for. After a few moments of forced pleasantries, Lightning excused himself and quickly left the group, not wanting to be hooked back into another conversation about something else he didn’t care about.
Lightning understood that he was representing their brand when he raced with their logos on the side of his car, but that doesn’t mean they should be able to force him into changing his personality, from the way he speaks and behaves all the way down to the clothes he was wearing. That’s why tonight he found himself in an extremely tailored black suit that clung to his thighs and chest in a way that was borderline uncomfortable. His tie was too tight and every drink he snatched off a server’s tray made it feel even more constricting. Why did he have to wear this stupid suit when he was here as a driver—why couldn’t he wear his gear or even just his jacket with the Dinoco-Rust-eeze logo on it?
Making his way to the outer edge of the ballroom, Lightning dodged every attempt made by his corporate sponsors to start a conversation. Even though he’d only been at the benefit for two hours, he was feeling socially burnt out and he didn’t know how long he could keep a pleasant smile plastered on his face. Lightning kept his head down while progressing through the crowd, and finally found himself outside of the ballroom and next to the hotel’s bar. He glanced over towards the patrons sitting there and his eyes lit up when he finally saw someone he recognized.
“Doc!” Lightning exclaimed as he basically jumped onto the barstool next to Doc Hudson, his mentor and team lead.
Doc raised his head from his drink in annoyance, but his features softened when he realized who it was, “Lightning, how are you?’
The driver shook his head and signaled to the bartender to pour him whatever Doc was drinking, “Ugh, horrible. You know I hate having to go to these things. I don’t know why Dinoco-Rust-eeze insists I attend when they know I always bail after a few hours!”
Doc looked down into his drink, stifling a laugh, “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you’re their prize driver—maybe work on not winning as many races and they’ll ease up on your public appearances.”
Rolling his eyes, Lightning took the glass the bartender placed in front of him, “You know I can’t do that. It would be unfair to everyone if I started throwing races just like that.”
Doc glanced over, taking in what Lightning was wearing for the first time. The black slacks Lightning were in seemed to strain across his thighs as he sat on the bar stool, showing off a little too much of his musculature. The white button down he was wearing also seemed a bit tight, and the material was basically see through—as though the stylist wanted Lightning’s chest on display. Doc’s jaw clenched, he hated when the company dressed Lightning like this, obviously taking advantage of the driver’s physical appearance when he was representing Dinoco-Rust-eeze. He made a mental note to call the stylist later in the week to discuss exactly what the vision was when dressing Lightning.
Lightning finished off his drink, cheeks starting to redden, “Damn, Doc, you’re still drinking whiskey straight, huh?”
Doc placed his irritation with the company on a back burner and chuckled as he watched Lightning order from the bartender again, this time just asking for a beer, “And it looks like you still can’t appreciate good liquor. That was a thirty dollar pour you just downed in less than a minute, Lightning. You’re supposed to savor Blanton’s, not take it like a shot you order in a college bar,” Doc paused noticing the color of Lightning’s face, “How much have you had to drink tonight? You may need to slow down.”
“Honestly, not enough. You know I can’t fake being interested in those dull corporate conversations when I’m sober,” Lightning loosened the tie that had been bothering him all night, “And honestly, thirty dollars? Doc, that really just tasted like a shot of Jack Daniels! I can’t understand people who are into whiskey, they genuinely all taste the same to me! There’s no way you guys all—”
Although this was one of Doc’s favorite long-standing arguments to have with Lightning, his full attention was drawn to Lightning’s hands, worn from years of racing, as he removed his suit jacket to place it on the back of his seat. His eyes flashed as he watched Lightning’s calloused fingers working to undo the first few buttons of his collar, exposing the spreading blush from the alcohol migrating down from his face.
“Are your clothes uncomfortable?” Doc asked, cutting Lightning off from his anti-whiskey tangent.
Lightning sighed and took a gulp of his beer, “Yeah, I hate when they make me wear stuff like this suit! Like, I don’t even mind wearing formal clothes for special events but why is everything always so tight? I get that this tailored stuff is the current style, but why can’t they just give me something that actually fits?” After his tangent Lightning finished off the rest of his beer in one swig.
Before Lightning was even finished talking, Doc had already waved down the bartender, paid for both his and Lightning’s drinks, leaving a generous tip of course, and stood up to leave, “Let’s get you into something more comfortable, I have an extra button down and slacks in my hotel room upstairs.”
Lightning’s eyes widened, “Really?! I should have known you would bring extra formal clothes,” he said, teasing Doc for his long-standing habit of always over-packing. The man would sometimes bring six pairs of underwear for a weekend-long race!
Doc forced a laugh, “I like being prepared.”
The truth was, he knew that the company would be squeezing Lightning into a suit that was about two sizes too small. He had actually packed two full suits in addition to the one he was wearing so that Lightning could pick which color he liked best. Doc hated watching Lightning make his way through the crowds in benefits in the suits Dinoco-Rust-eeze put him in because he could see when sponsors, race officials, and even other drivers would look his student up and down and call him over just to get a closer look.
“Come on, you can wear my jacket up to the room, it will probably fit better than that one they gave you,” Doc shrugged off his navy-blue jacket and held it out for Lightning to take.
Lightning stood up, planting a hand on the bar to keep himself steady. After he felt confident in his balance, he took Doc’s jacket and immediately started to put it on, “Oh, thank you so much, Doc! You’re right, this fits way better!”
Looking at how Lightning looked in his jacket, Doc tensed. The navy material barely engulfed his shoulders, but Doc’s mind still began to race, wondering just how good Lightning would look wearing his dress shirt.
Doc cleared his throat and began to make his way to the elevator, “Yes, well, I never make it a habit to wear clothes that don’t fit me.” Doc pretended not to notice how Lightning’s blush deepened.
“You know I have no say in what they put me in,” Lightning whined as he went after Doc, “It’s not my fault that everything they make me wear is tight!”
Doc sighed as they approached the elevators, noticing that he felt much more relaxed now that his jacket was covering Lightning’s chest and upper thighs, “I know, I’m planning on speaking with the stylist team after this weekend is over,” Doc pressed the up button, “If anything, we’ll at least get you pants and a shirt in a size that actually fits you.”
Lightning leaned against the wall as they waited for the elevator, “I owe you one again, Doc. You always seem to know your way around helping me with this corporate kind of stuff,” Lightning flashed a smile at his mentor, “What else can you expect from a seasoned veteran who won three Piston Cups in one season?”
Doc felt his heart squeeze after seeing Lightning’s smile, “Anything I can do to help out the driver that’s going to be the one to break that record.”
As the elevator door opened Doc made sure Lightning got on before him, but when he noticed Lightning stumbling in, he put an arm around his waist to stabilize him. Shaking his head, Doc chuckled, “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”
Lightning looked up at his mentor. Doc normally wore a scowl when they were on the track, often caused by the other drivers and their teams, so Lightning had never noticed just how warm his smile was. He also became quite aware of just how close he was to Doc. As the elevator doors closed, Lightning felt himself staring at Doc’s face. The two were only inches away at this point.
“Doc, you really should smile more.”
“Oh, really. And why is that?”
“I think your smile may be the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. I’m serious. Just looking at it now makes me want to smile,” Lightning’s blush deepened even further as he felt a smile stretch across his own face. He can’t believe he just said that.
The way Lightning’s eyes shone while looking up at him smiling, Doc felt himself melt, “You’re drunk,” Doc laughed, “And I think it’s time for you to go to bed. Don’t worry about the sponsors, I’ll let them know you weren’t feeling well and had to leave early,” The elevator doors opened, “Give me your keycard, your room is next to mine, right?”
Doc walked Lightning out of the elevator towards their rooms when he felt Lightning stop.
“What’s wrong?” Doc asked.
Lightning buried his face in his hands, “My keycard... It’s in the pocket of my jacket. Which I left on the back of the chair at the bar.”
Doc sighed and reached around the other’s back into the front pocket of his jacket that Lightning was wearing, “It’s fine, you can stay in my room tonight.”
Lightning froze as he felt Doc’s hand wrap around his body to get the keycard out. Why did that feel so nice? And why did he want Doc’s arm to stay wrapped around him like that?
Doc let them both into his room, helping Lightning stumble towards the bed. Once he sat himself on the end of it, Lightning immediately began taking off his loafers and socks. Doc turned to shut the door.
“Doc~~ Can you please help me take these pants off? They’re literally stuck to my legs,” Lightning begged.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t, Doc found himself making his way towards the end of bed. He looked down at Lightning, who was sprawled out beneath him doing his best to unbutton the slacks he was dressed in, “I literally cannot get this undone. I don’t know who decided there needed to be three buttons on these damn pants, but I’d like to have a word with them,” Lightning complained.
Noticing that Lightning was silent, Doc glanced up from where he was working and was met with Lightning’s eyes wide open, pupils blown wide. He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten, and now he could practically smell the alcohol on Lightning’s breath, “Shit, I’m sorry, I should have asked before just assuming you needed help with this part-”
Normally Lightning would have bolted out of the room after this interaction, but the drinks in his system gave him a sort of pseudo-confidence. He shook his head while still making eye contact with Doc, “No, you’re okay. You can keep going.”
Doc’s mouth dried out. He suddenly realized the situation they were in—his leg almost straddling Lightning as he was unbuttoning his slacks in a locked hotel room. Feeling the blood coursing through his body, Doc asked, “What exactly do you want me to keep going with?”
Lightning felt his ears get hot as he turned away from Doc to evade the question and the awkwardness that came with it.
Doc lifted one of his hands to hook under Lightning’s chin, turning the driver to face him as his expression darkened, “I’m being serious, Lightning. I need you to tell me what you want me to do. If you can’t do that then I can’t help you.”
Shocked by Doc’s abrupt behavior, Lightning took a moment. What he wanted Doc to do? Did he seriously mean it in that way?
“I want you to keep unbuttoning my pants... Please.”
Still making eye contact with Lightning, Doc moved his hand down to continue unbuttoning the slacks. Once that was done, Doc moved to pull them down over the racer's thighs before he heard Lightning say something that stopped him in his tracks.
“Doc, I also want you to kiss me.”