Chapter Text
The F1 season progressed without Lance, but Fernando didn’t forget.
Lance spent most of his recuperation at his family home in Canada. His sister and father came and went from the house, but most of the time he was alone.
There wasn’t much for him to do. The doctor’s orders were for him to rest, so that was what he did. Everyday. Lance couldn’t remember the last time he’d relaxed this much.
It was driving him insane.
There was little time between races for Fernando and his other friends from the grid to visit, flying out all the way from Monaco, but during a two-week break between races Fernando turned up on his doorstep without warning.
Lance could only gape at his former teammate after opening the door.
“Don’t worry, I’ve booked into a hotel, so I’m not going to intrude on you too much,” Fernando said, misreading Lance’s shocked expression. “I just came to say hello, and check in on you.”
Lance broke out of his stupor and surged forwards, pulling Fernando into a hug.
“God, I’m so happy to see you,” Lance whispered, burying his face in Fernando’s neck.
Fernando held him tight around his ribs. “Can I come in? Or are we just going to have a cuddle out here?”
Lance tugged Fernando inside. His father was out on a business trip, and his sister had ducked out to have lunch with her friends, so it was just the two of them in the huge house. Lance felt dizzy with the thought of all the things they could do. Fernando, in his home like this. Alone together.
But instead of doing any of the wild things Lance was imagining, him and Fernando sat across the dining room table from each other.
“Have you done your hand exercises today?” Fernando asked.
Lance rolled his eyes. Fernando had been texting him reminders every single day. “No.” He hated doing them.
Fernando held out his hand, and Lance obediently placed his in Fernando’s.
The first time Lance broke his wrists, he had a private physio come to a few of his races to check in. Fernando had sat in on a few of those physiotherapy sessions, claiming he was just bored and wanted something to do. Recently, Fernando had sat in on a few of the early sessions Lance had at the hospital, before he had to return to racing. Lance hadn’t expected Fernando to pay that much attention, but now, he manipulated Lance’s hands like a professional.
He turned them over in his, rubbing his thumb firmly over the fingers, the back, the palm, drawing closer and closer to the line of the cast on Lance’s wrist. The whole time he watched Lance’s face closely, unblinking.
Lance winced as Fernando’s thumb dug into the base of his palm. Fernando immediately relieved the pressure and switched to his other hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me how bad your wrists were before?” Fernando asked quietly.
Lance shrugged. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“You told Ocon.”
Lance flushed, caught out. Fernando was trying to sound neutral, but there was no missing the jealousy in his tone.
“I only did that because I was really drunk. I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.”
“And that bring me back to my question: why not?”
Lance’s fingers twitched as Fernando pressed hard into the centre of his palm. “I don’t know, Fernando. I guess I just wanted to deal with it on my own, without burdening anyone else.”
“I would not have seen it as a burden,” Fernando mumbled. There were only a few times Lance had seen Fernando like this – emotional, completely sincere – and he absolutely loved this side of him, even if it was a little disarming. “All the times I grabbed you by your wrists… probably even more than what I remember. I was hurting you, and I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t hurting me,” Lance said, trying as hard as he could to make it sound convincing. The truth was, Fernando could hurt him as much as he wanted, and Lance wouldn’t say a thing. The pain was bearable as long as Fernando was with him, touching him, loving him.
Fernando’s touch turned soft and gentle, stroking across the back of Lance’s hand in a way that made his skin tingle. This wasn’t physiotherapy anymore.
“When you crashed…” Fernando began, but he trailed off like he couldn’t bear to speak of it.
“Did you see it?” Lance asked.
“Not the crash itself. I just came around the corner and saw your car on its side. God, Lance, my heart dropped. I thought for sure you were dead.”
Lance swallowed. “I thought I was too.”
“They hadn’t even had time to red flag the race yet. But I pulled over and jumped out. All I could think about was getting to you.”
Lance remembered the panic, the rush of blood to his head, his chest heavy. Then Fernando had inexplicably appeared: his hero.
“Then they took you away, and I had to go back to the garage alone. I felt like I was going crazy. I wanted to trash the whole place, but your father was there, asking about you. He was even more distressed than I was. I had to channel all my energy into calming him down, telling him that I’d spoken to you and you were going to be okay. When we got to the hospital, you went into surgery and we had to wait for hours. Then while you were unconscious, they would only let your dad in to see you. I had to wait with Ocon. I think that’s the most Ocon’s ever spoken to me. He just wouldn’t stop rambling.”
Lance chuckled, despite the situation. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”
But when he looked up, Fernando’s eyes were shining with tears.
“Oh, God. Fernando…”
Lance leaned over the table and kissed him. Fernando’s hands came up to cradle his face, touch reverent against his cheeks and jaw.
“I’m safe now. You saved me,” Lance whispered.
“Will you tell me about these things from now on?” Fernando asked. “Whenever something is hurting or bothering you, please just let me know. I want to take care of you.”
It shouldn’t have been so hard for Lance to accept what Fernando was saying. He wanted to protest that he could take care of himself. He just wasn’t the sort of person who could ask others for help.
But Fernando was offering himself up. His eyes were so huge and soft, right in front of Lance’s, staring at him like he was the only person in the world. Lance’s heart felt so full he thought it might burst, and then he really would die, right in front of Fernando.
Lance nodded. “Okay.”
Fernando pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Then the front door opened with a commotion of noise, admitting Lance’s sister. Lance and Fernando jerked apart, Lance falling heavily back in his seat. Chloe Stroll stood in the doorway, her eyes locked on Lance, face rapidly turning red.
“I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed. “It’s completely my fault, I came home early. I can leave!”
“No, no, it’s fine!” Lance said quickly.
Fernando was looking anywhere but at the Stroll siblings. “I should go back to my hotel.”
“No, Fernando, you’re fine! I’m the one intruding!” Chloe said. She started backing out the door.
“Chloe, stop!” Lance cried. God, if she ran away, it would only make the situation even more humiliating. “Just stay! You weren’t interrupting anything, we were just talking!”
Chloe obviously didn’t believe that – she’d seen much more than just talking – but she gamely played along.
“Okay. Well. I’m just going to go to my room, then.”
She inched past them towards the hallway, a nervous smile plastered on her face. Lance stopped her before she disappeared.
“Chloe. Um…”
Chloe froze.
“Me and Fernando, we’re…”
Chloe laughed. “Clearly!”
“Don’t tell dad.”
“I won’t, promise!”
She turned to leave, but Lance stopped her one more time.
“Wait! One more thing…”
“Oh, Lance, you don’t need to come out to me. I know. I’ve always known.”
“Huh?” Lance hadn’t even known until a few years ago. “How?”
“I remember when you were a kid, you told me about your huge celebrity crush on…” She trailed off, but her eyes flicked over to Fernando, finishing the sentence for her. “Congratulations, Lance.”
With a cheeky smile over her shoulder, Chloe hurried off to her room.
“Celebrity crush on who?” Fernando asked, into the silence.
“No one.” Lance tugged him into another kiss.
---
Today was the day.
Lance was maybe going a little overboard. He could have mentioned it to his father during any of the hundreds of times he’d seen him since the F1 season ended. But for some reason, Lance felt compelled to make it a big moment. Maybe it was to make up for keeping it a secret for so long, along with all the other things he’d hid from his father for no logical reason. The more time passed without Lance coming out to Lawrence, the bigger and more elaborate the moment had to be.
Fernando had invited Lawrence and Lance out to dinner at the priciest restaurant he could find in Monaco, knowing Lawrence had expensive taste. When Fernando and Lance ate together, it was normally just take-out, but that wouldn’t do for this occasion.
Lawrence believed it was just a friendly post-season catch up between old colleagues. He was looking forward to it.
“I always liked Fernando,” Lawrence said, in the back of the taxi. “I thought he was a good influence on you, Lance.”
Lance nodded along, not speaking, scared to give anything away.
It was stupid. He knew now that his father would love him, no matter what. And his sister had been completely unfazed. Lance was a grown adult, he could date whoever he wanted, and his father had no power over that.
But it was going to change things. Change the way Lawrence thought of Lance and Fernando together, when they were flying back and forth so often to see each other, staying over at each other’s houses, spending as much time together as they could. Remove the innocence of the close friendship Lawrence thought they had.
Lance’s hands were shaking as they arrived at the restaurant. Fernando was already there waiting for them, wearing his nicest suit and looking absolutely breathtaking. He went straight to Lawrence and greeted him with a stiff hug.
It had been a few weeks since Lance and Fernando last saw each other. Normally, after this long, they’d greet each other with a tight embrace and a kiss. If they were impatient, they’d fall straight into bed. If they were really impatient, they wouldn’t even make it to bed: they would fuck on the couch, the kitchen counter, even the floor one time.
Fernando clapped Lance on the shoulder and gave him a wink, a subtle promise that they would have their proper reunion later.
The wait staff took them to the private room Fernando had booked, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the restaurant. With only three of them at a four-seater table, it was a bit awkward to figure out where to sit. Lance and Lawrence sitting across from Fernando felt the most neutral, but Lance didn’t like the idea of leaving Fernando sitting alone like that. Lance sitting next to Fernando, across from his father, was how he wanted to sit, but it felt suspicious. But then Lance sitting alone, across from Fernando and his father, didn’t feel right at all.
Fernando took a seat. Lawrence took the seat across from him. Lance’s mind raced.
Fernando caught his eye and patted the seat next to him. Lance sat down with a sigh, the decision made for him. Lawrence’s face showed no reaction.
They ordered food. They made small talk. Lance tried to find the right moment.
It had to be today. He couldn’t possibly wait any longer. If not now, then never.
“Dad!” Lance blurted out.
Their food had arrived. Lawrence was chewing on a mouthful, his eyes going wide. He chewed faster so he could reply.
“What is it?”
Lance’s panicked tone had scared him.
“I have to tell you something.”
Lawrence swallowed and set down his fork, his expression turning serious. “What? Are you okay? Is it about your wrists?”
Lance felt a pang of guilt. Lawrence asked that question all the time now, pretty much every time he saw Lance. Lance knew Lawrence blamed himself for what had happened, feeling like he should have paid better attention to the signs.
“No, it’s not.”
Lance took a deep breath. He felt Fernando’s hand squeeze his knee under the table, and when he looked over, Fernando was offering him an encouraging smile.
“Dad, me and Fernando…” He took another breath. “We’re dating.”
Lawrence’s mouth dropped open. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but his eyes darted back and forth between them.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “That’s not what I was expecting to hear. At all.”
“I’m sorry,” Lance said quickly.
“What are you apologising for? I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, at least Fernando’s younger than me, I suppose!”
His attempt at humour did not land. He coughed. Fernando kept quiet, letting the two of them have their moment. Lance reached down and, with the heavy casts on his wrists replaced by much smaller splints, he was able to lace their fingers together.
“I would never have guessed,” Lawrence said.
“Are you upset?” Lance asked.
Lawrence quickly shook his head. “I meant what I said in the car on the way here, Lance. I think Fernando is a good influence on you.” He leaned across the table, looking at Lance meaningfully. “Is he good to you? Are you happy?”
Lance nodded. “Yes. I’m really happy.”
Fernando squeezed his hand.
Lawrence sat back, picking up his fork to resume eating. “Then that’s what’s important. I don’t care about anything else. But-” And here Lawrence turned to Fernando, stabbing his fork into his pasta. “Fernando, if I find out about you hurting my son, I’ll destroy you. You’ll never financially recover.”
To Fernando’s credit, he pretended to flinch. “I know. I won’t let you down.”
Lawrence smiled. “Good. Welcome to the Stroll family, Fernando.”
And that was it. They finished their meal, and then Lance told his father he was going back home with Fernando. Lawrence smiled knowingly.
“Yeah. Have a good night, you two.”
He leaned in to whisper something just to Lance. Lance cringed, worried it would be something corny, some stupid joke about using protection. But instead, Lawrence whispered, “Love you, okay? Always.”
Lance felt tears spring to his eyes. “Love you too, dad.”
---
A few weeks ago, Fernando had made a comment while on the phone to Lance.
“I miss you. I wish you were here all the time.”
Hearing that in Fernando’s voice, thick with emotion, took Lance’s breath away. He’d had to sit down to process it.
“You want me to move in with you?” Lance asked, confirming what Fernando meant.
“I’d love that. This apartment’s too big for one person.”
They hadn’t talked about it since. They hadn’t planned anything. Lance wasn’t even sure if what Fernando had said had been a formal invitation, or just him thinking out loud. But now Lance was outside Fernando’s door anyway, a heavy backpack on his back and a suitcase at his feet, sliding the spare key Fernando had given him into the lock.
Already he was imagining the expression on Fernando’s face. He’d probably be a bit annoyed at being caught unawares, but so happy when he realised what was happening. Or at least, that was what Lance hoped. He didn’t have a return flight booked. This was the rest of his life, opening up before him as he opened Fernando’s door.
“Hello?” Fernando called from deep in the apartment. “Lance?”
There were butterflies in Lance’s stomach. He was the only other person with a key to this place. Fernando knew it was him.
“I’m home!” Lance said. It felt natural. Right.
Lance dropped his backpack on the floor in the entryway as he heard Fernando’s footsteps rapidly approaching. Then he appeared, in just a t-shirt and boxers, his jaw on the floor.
“What are you doing here?” Fernando asked. He didn’t sound annoyed. Just completely astonished, like he thought he might be dreaming.
Lance shut the door behind himself. “I’m here to make this place less empty.”
Fernando was speechless for a few more seconds, then he launched at Lance. Lance staggered back a few steps as Fernando tackled him, attaching to Lance’s body like a limpet, his arms winding around his neck.
“What are you even doing here?” Fernando repeated softly, like he was out of breath.
Lance shoved his suitcase aside and hugged Fernando back fiercely.
“I’m moving in.”
“No way.”
And then Lance realised that Fernando was crying. He felt the cold tears on his neck, the way his body trembled in Lance’s arms with barely repressed sobs.
Lance ran his hands up and down his back. “I’m here, Fernando. Forever.”
This was not the reaction from Fernando he’d imagined. But he liked it.
Fernando pulled away enough for Lance to see the tears spilling from his eyes, before Fernando practically attacked him, planting hard kisses all over his face.
Lance cried out and made a half-hearted attempt to get away, but Fernando held him in place with his hands in his hair.
“How is this even possible?” Fernando asked in between kisses.
“I flew here.” Lance laughed, his skin flushing hot from all the affection. “Fernando, you’re smothering me!”
Fernando tucked his face into Lance’s neck, drawing him back into another tight embrace. “Lance, Lance, Lance.” He said his name like a prayer. “What did I do to deserve you?”
Lance didn’t know how to answer that one. Fernando deserved everything that was good in the world. Lance didn’t see himself as part of that, but he was going to work so, so hard to make Fernando happy, make himself worthy of this man.
They stayed wrapped up together in the entryway, swaying gently, for a long time.
Later, Lance started to make himself at home. Him and Fernando got take-out. They watched an old Spanish movie. Then Lance started unpacking his suitcase, hanging up his clothes in Fernando’s wardrobe.
“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Fernando asked from where he was perched on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sure. You just relax.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to clear out your own space? Otherwise our clothes might get mixed up.”
Lance smiled. “It’s fine. I don’t mind if they do.” It wasn’t just that he didn’t mind, it was that he wanted it. He wanted to go to their shared wardrobe every morning and pick something out blindly, not knowing if it had originally been his or Fernando’s. He wanted to wear Fernando’s clothes, and for Fernando to see him in them. He wanted their clothes and lives to become all jumbled up together, indistinguishable from each other.
Lance didn’t hear Fernando get up off the bed, so he jumped when he felt Fernando’s arms circle his waist from behind.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Fernando breathed into the back of Lance’s neck, sending shivers up and down his spine.
“I can’t quite believe it, either.”
Lance forgot about his clothes and turned around, leading Fernando back to the bed. They kissed, deep and intimate, Lance on top at first until Fernando pushed him over onto his back. Fernando’s hands on him were eager but unhurried; he knew they had all the time in the world now. Every morning. Every evening. Every hour in between. So he was slow as he peeled Lance’s clothes off.
“I love you,” Lance said, the words muffled in a kiss.
“Te amo,” Fernando whispered. “Te amo mucho.”
Lance didn’t speak much Spanish, but he knew a promise when he heard it.