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From the first sip of vodka he'd taken, he'd known this was going to be a terrible night for his liver.
Having banned drinking and loud, crowded parties from his social diet after summer break, his tolerance had been reduced to nothing. His crew had cared nothing for easing him back into his party boy persona gently, though, and had started feeding him vodka disguised as Monster from the moment he'd left the podium, soaked in fizzy grape juice and happy tears.
He'd done his million and one interviews getting progressively sloshed. He'd been buzzing by the time he'd finally been released from an otherwise empty media pen at the end of the evening. Then the after-party with friends and family had left him with just trace amounts of blood in the alcohol that was running through his veins.
One hell of a night, really. And now only one thing left to do.
He hiccuped, murmured an apology to the wall he'd careened into, and squinted at a sign just ahead.
'2134-2184? Is that right? That can't be right. Lemme see.'
Socked feet carried him through the carpeted hallway, veering left a little, then right, before he reached the other wall and smacked a hand against the sign. His fingers danced over the numbers as he sounded them out.
"Two-one-three-four," he intoned with the gravitas of a pastor delivering a eulogy. Then he let out a distinctly unserious giggle. "Would've been funnier if it was six seven. Ayo! Keegs!"
He looked around, grinning, trying to find his friend. He frowned slightly at the empty hallway, froze for a beat as his mind scrambled to make sense of the situation, then shrugged as it gave up.
"Right. I need… floor… fuck. Uh."
He fumbled his phone out of his pocket, and poked the tip of his tongue out, licking at the corner of his mouth while he navigated to Jon's text.
Jon. Perfect, brilliant, wonderful Jon. Lando owed him so much already, and still Jon had come through again. No judgment.
"Hey Jon? You think you could… you know. Uh. Find out where Max is staying?"
"Max?" A pause. "Verstappen?"
"Yeah."
"I could… yeah, I can ask someone who will know."
"Please?"
"Sure. I'll text you."
He blinked blearily at the text Jon had sent him hours ago, before they'd all gotten far too wasted to remember much beyond their own names. "Twenty-four! Oooh, I need to go higher!"
He hiccuped again, then grinned, turning around to go back the way he came, humming a whisp of 'Sweet Caroline' under his breath at random. To the elevators again. To find floor 24. And Max.
"Max," he murmured to himself, still grinning. "Funny name. Max. Maaaax. Yeah. Maxie- Maxem-"
He staggered to a stop, frowning down at the carpet. His hand came up, cutting through the air as he cut through the name in his mind. "Max. E. Mil. I. An. Max. Emilian."
He gave himself a self-satisfied nod, already grinning again, then stumbled down the hallway in search of the man in question.
It took another elevator ride, tripping over the elevator lip, turning down the wrong way on the right floor, then getting turned around and going down the same wrong way a second time, before finally finding the right room. Promptly tripping over his own two feet and falling against the door with a thump.
"'S fine," he mumbled to himself, chuckling a little as he swayed back upright. "I'm fine. I'm Max Verstappen levels of fine. Heh. See what I did there?"
He peered at the room number one more time, just to be sure, then lifted his hand and banged it down on the door. "Max! Maaaaax! Wake- Wake up! Wait. What time is it?"
Squinting at the Richard Mille sat snugly on his wrist did absolutely nothing to tell him the time, and anyway, he was already distracted again. "Hug-o-clock!" His voice rang out in the hallway. "Makssssss!"
He pounded on the door with his fist, then leaned heavily against it with a huff. "Come on. I need you. You weren't at the-" hiccup "-party. I need to tell you-"
The door opened, making Lando jump and stumble, hitting his shoulder against the frame. "Ow."
A sliver of Max came into view, eyes puffy and mostly closed, hair a mess. "Wat de fuck?" Max's voice was a rough rasp. He frowned. "Lando?"
Lando straightened up, beaming. "Max! You're here!"
A beat of silence, as Lando looked at Max eagerly, his grin bright. Max opened the door a hint further, scratching at his chest. Lando's eyes tracked the movement, and he noted Max was shirtless. He licked his lips.
"It's my hotel room," Max finally said. "Of course I'm here. Sleeping."
"Yes. Yes! Sleeping! That's good! That's… I was just…" Lando cast around for what he was supposed to say, remembering it had been important. Very important. He absolutely needed Max to know this one thing.
"Hold on, I'm just… I need to tell you… I…" He blew out a big breath, and looked up into Max's face again, his eyes having wandered slightly. "Max! Yes! Hi!"
Max rubbed a hand over his face now. "You're drunk."
Lando nodded eagerly, which made his vision swim uncomfortably. "Ow. Uh. Yes! I went to… a club! Yeah. But you weren't there, so."
He watched Max's expression go through what seemed to be the five stages of grief, perhaps for his loss of sleep. Or his sanity. But then Max stepped back, holding the door open. "Get in here before someone calls security."
Lando beamed again, triumphant, and shuffled inside. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, he turned around to look at Max. "I missed you, you know."
The frown was back on Max's face. "You saw me of course like, ten hours ago. And you spent most of that time at a party."
"Yes, and you weren't there." Lando turned serious. He could feel the corners of his mouth pull down slightly. "I needed you there."
Max snorted. "You needed me there to… what? Pour shots down your throat?"
"No! I mean- Wait. Would you?" He paused, looking at Max, still in just his boxer briefs. There were pillow creases on his cheek, and his eyes were still a bit puffy with sleep. And yet… He sighed softly. "You're really beautiful."
Max, who had just opened his mouth, probably to say something about feeding Lando shots at the club next time, sure, but please leave now so I can sleep, closed it again so fast that Lando could hear his teeth click together.
"Okay, that's enough," Max said after a beat, stepping closer. "You need to-"
"Wait." Lando felt his stomach do a little flip, and it wasn't from the alcohol sloshing around inside.
Max gave him a look. "What?"
"Oh no. I… fuck." He felt his world tilt slightly as his knees gave way and he sat down abruptly on the carpet, like a puppet that got its strings cut. It happened so fast not even Max was quick enough to catch him.
He looked up at Max from the floor, blinking, his eyes suddenly wet. "I won."
"Yeah you did." Max raised an eyebrow at him. "You okay?"
"No, but… I mean…" He scrunched up his nose, finding words stupidly hard right now. "I won. So that means you lost."
Max stared at him, but said nothing.
"I took it from you." He heard his own voice crack, but there were so many big feelings swirling right now, and he couldn't hold them all in. So he bled them all over the carpet of Max's hotel room instead. "You were going for five, you came back from like… over a hundred points away, and I… fuck."
Suddenly, Max was on his knees in front of him, startling Lando and making him hiccup again. "Lando…"
"I'm sorry," he whispered, wiping at his eyes. His fingers came away wet. "I didn't mean to. Well, I meant to. I really wanted… to win. But I… I didn't know it would feel like this."
Max just looked at him for a long moment, before softly asking: "feel like what?"
"Like it changes things." His gaze slid away, his eyes burning. He was a Formula One World Champion! Why did he feel like crying? "Between us."
Max didn't say anything right away, and the silence felt enormous somehow. Lando's fingers twitched, curling into the soft fabric of his pants. It was all wrong. He'd come here to say… something, and now it was all wrong. He let out a shaky breath. "I don't know what to do with all of it."
He could feel Max shift, like he was settling in or something, but he didn't dare look at him to confirm. He halfway expected Max to ignore this too, but then he heard a soft: "Do with all of what?"
"All these… these feelings." He felt his heart jump and start galloping, taking his breath away. He rushed on, afraid he might lose the words somehow. "I've got like… I don't know. Too many. And they're too big. I've been like, holding on to them for so long and I… I just…"
He lifted his hands between them, both curled into loose fists. "Tonight, I just don't know where to put them all anymore." He opened his fists, tipping his empty palms. Like he was offering something up. Or maybe spilling it.
There was another beat of silence in which Lando thought, probably insanely, that he felt a bit like he was falling. And if Max didn't catch him now, he might hit the ground and die. His breath hitched dangerously.
But then Max moved. Not away, like Lando assumed a sane person might have, but forward. He reached out, his hands gentle as he wrapped long, delicate fingers around Lando's twitchy ones, steadying him.
Like Max had always done. Like Lando had come to rely on in some small ways.
"It's of course okay," Max murmured softly. "To have these feelings."
Lando finally pulled his gaze back to Max's face and saw him hesitate, like he was searching for the right thing to say. His eyes still carried a hint of sleepiness but they shone warmly now too, and his lips curled up in a tiny hint of a smile. "We can hold them together, if you want."
Then Max tugged gently, and Lando all but fell into him.
Strong arms wrapped around him, cocooning him almost, and he sank into the embrace with a wobbly sigh, burying his face against Max's neck. "I want," he breathed. "I want so much."
Max hummed. Pressed in this closely, Lando felt the vibrations of it and absurdly, it made him smile. Before Max could even say whatever he had wanted to say, Lando interrupted. "Do that again."
He could feel the pause in Max, too. "Do what again?"
Reaching up blindly, he pressed his fingertips to Max's throat. "Hum. Do it again."
And Max, four time Formula One World Champion, NLS SP9 winner, supposed ruthless monster and rumored emotionless robot, hummed. Because Lando asked. Because it made Lando smile.
"Again." He shifted slightly, tilting his head, pushing his nose underneath Max's chin, pressing his cheek to the soft vibrations.
And if Max thought this was weird or inappropriate, he didn't show it. Because he hummed again, and he kept humming, some sort of tune forming that tugged at Lando and made him smile bigger. Brighter. Until he actually giggled.
"We are the champions? Really?" He pulled back, looking at Max, who was now grinning too.
"It is of course, true. Today, we were both champions. Me this morning, and now you," Max said, eyes crinkling with amusement.
Lando dropped his gaze, feeling that complicated mix of elation and guilt creeping in again. But then Max's fingers were at his chin, turning his face back up. "No. I told you. I wanted it to be you. You won and it was fair."
Searching Max's gaze, he found nothing but sincerity there. Then Max added: "You deserve this, Lando. You're the new world champion. And you deserve it."
A smile, so big and bright it brought out his dimples and crinkled his eyes into nothingness, broke over Lando's face then. He could feel it hurting his cheeks. "Yes." His voice was more of a breathless laugh. "Yes! World champion!"
He laughed, shoulders shaking with it, feeling just elated now. "Oh, Max," he exhaled then, and he leaned in as his eyes fluttered closed.
Their lips met.
Soft at first, just a tentative touch, before Lando pressed in harder, chasing the warmth he found there. Max's mouth opened slightly beneath his and Lando made a small sound in the back of his throat. Of relief, maybe. Or desperation. He really wasn't sure anymore. Not that it mattered, because Max's hand came up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his curls, and Lando melted into it, the last of his vodka-soaked thoughts evacuating the building.
Max was kissing him back.
Actually kissing him back. With gentle pressure and careful intention. Like he was mapping out something precious.
Lando's heart hammered so hard he felt it might bruise his ribs. He pressed in further still, his hand finding Max's jaw, fingertips brushing stubbled skin that was warm and real. This was all real.
This was really happening.
Then Max pulled away just enough to break the contact, his fingers sliding out of Lando's curls. Lando tried to chase him, but he felt Max's thumb brush his jaw, holding him back. He blinked open his eyes, confused.
Max's eyes were impossibly soft. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."
"But-"
"Tomorrow." Max sounded firmer now, but still kind. "When you're sober."
Lando blinked at him, a little dazed. Then he smiled again, slow and knowing. And happy. "Yes." He exhaled shakily. "Okay."
He paused then, frowning slightly as he tried to figure out what this meant. "I need to… go?"
Max sighed, smiling slightly still as he pushed up from the floor, then helped Lando to his feet, too. Lando swayed, crashing into Max, who simply slid an arm around him and steadied him. Again.
"You can of course stay here. I am not getting dressed to take you to your room," Max said, full of his usual practicality as he steered Lando to the bed. "And I don't know that you won't end up sleeping on the elevator floor if I let you go alone."
Lando flopped down onto the bed without grace, giggling slightly, spreading out his arms as he stared up at the ceiling. "Yeah, okay."
He felt Max tug at his legs and he clumsily tried to pull them up onto the bed himself.
"Lando. Where are your shoes?"
"They were mean," he explained, pushing himself up on his elbows so he could look at Max. Who blinked at him.
"Mean?"
Lando nodded, then groaned when it made his head spin. "To my feet," he added as he dropped back down, reaching up to push his hands to his face, trying to stop the world spinning quite so badly.
"Okay," he heard muttered somewhere by the side of the bed, and then his socks were pulled off and his track pants too, and blankets got pulled from underneath him.
"Best bed ever," he mumbled into a pillow as he rolled onto his side, finding warmth where Max had seemingly slept earlier. "'S warm. Smells like you."
Max tucked the blankets around him, and Lando could just hear the smile in his voice. "Go to sleep, champion."
Lando smiled too, soft and unguarded, as he felt the bed dip, Max climbing in beside him. "Tomorrow," he whispered.
The bedside light clicked off, and he could feel Max shifting, moving closer until he could feel the warmth of him right beside himself.
"Tomorrow," Max agreed.
And finally, Lando slept.