#let's just say... those Replay tennis pics of Carlos and Martin chatting only acted as fodder

[landinrris]

You got me interested on the "Lando/Martin/Carlos fic" cause iits sound really intriguing

lol this is the one that is the guiltiest of guilty pleasures that will probably appeal to like three (3) people. But they do say write for yourself so... 🤷‍♀️

The idea behind this one involves Lando being glued to Carlos' side on race weekends and Martin's during off-weeks. Lando’s in a casual and open thing with Carlos (in which Carlos also has his girlfriends still), and in comes an escalated relationship with Martin. The best part of the arrangement is that it genuinely works because Lando doesn't want to choose and no one makes him. And then it escalates, naturally. The idea is to have deep feelings, a bit of Carlos assessing his own thoughts and feelings about himself, etc. Jury is still out on whether or not it actually ends in a throuple. I'd have to develop a more detailed outline first 😅

A little snippet from when Lando wins Miami (because it's the first scene I have that has all three of them more or less in it):

Ask me about my wips!

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Lando loses it when he and Carlos finally get back to his hotel room later. After the celebratory dinner and parties with his team, after he’s thoroughly tired himself out. 

They stumble back into their hotel room, the sky outside long darkened and on the way to getting lighter. He has too many different smells in his nose— champagne, perfume, cologne, sweat— yet the smell of everything mixed together when it’s rolling off Carlos as Lando’s pulled into a tight hug is infinitely more bearable and desirable. 

Lando tucks his head into Carlos’ shoulder and wraps his arms around his back to hold on as tightly as he can. The hours separating them from the last time they were able to do this are too many. They should have been able to do this the entire time they were out.

“God, I am so proud of you,” Carlos whispers into the side of his head. The words are all it takes for Lando to lose it.

He’d managed to keep himself together in the immediate aftermath in front of the cameras— had become a bit choked up talking to his parents and grandmother— but that was it. The weight is off his shoulders, sure, but until this moment, Lando’s just felt a bit empty.

But Carlos is here, holding him close and whispering praise, and Lando feels relief. Relief that it’s all been worth it to this point. His belief and trust haven’t been misplaced. The moment the team gives him a car capable of more, he gets what it’s capable of out of it. 

The sob that hiccups from his chest only makes Carlos hold him tighter.

“Hey, I’ve got you, you’re okay.” So naturally, Lando only cries harder. One of Carlos’ hands rubs reassuringly up and down Lando’s back. It’s silly to cry so long after the fact— he should’ve done this in parc fermé or something, not after all the celebrations. But Carlos doesn’t tease him for it. Instead, he shuffles them over in front of the bed and sinks down to the floor.

It’s exactly what Lando needs, a firm and solid surface beneath him to contrast the way Carlos pulls him back in and arranges them so Lando’s legs are settled sideways over Carlos’ lap. He pulls Lando closer, lets him lay his head against his shoulder, and release as much emotion as possible.

“It didn’t hit me in Silverstone until the next day,” Carlos admits. “After I talked to my dad for the second time, and I realized I am a race winner. I think everyone has a bit of a delayed reaction.”

Lando chokes out a weak laugh. “Would’ve preferred it to wait until tomorrow, that way I can enjoy the night in peace.”

Carlos just tsks. “No, because this is how you know it’s real, that it’s setting in, and the next race you start, you are going to be starting it as a race winner.” He says it with so much conviction Lando feels silly for ever thinking anything different. “I called it from the car, you know.”

The statement catches Lando off guard enough that he lifts his head from Carlos’ shoulder to look at him properly. “What?”

“When the safety car came out and Ricky confirmed you would be coming back out in front. I knew you were going to him it. You were flying.”

The earnestness in Carlos’ voice and in his eyes makes Lando want to cry again. Sure, he knew he and his team thought it was well within grasp as soon as the safety car came out— even more so when it caught Max instead of him— but to hear that Carlos also thought so? It doesn’t do anything good to his mind.

His mind reels with how to respond. Thank you is too inadequate. He’s also much too weepy to think about kissing him. Not right now. Before he can figure out what to say though, his phone rings. He doesn’t remember when he pulled his phone off silent, but the noise, a shrill default iPhone tone, knocks Lando sufficiently out of his head enough to pull it out of his back pocket to see who’s calling.

Somewhat surprisingly, it’s Martin. God, Lando doesn’t even know what time it is here let alone what time it is in Amsterdam. He talked to Martin earlier for a few minutes— promised they’d talk more a little later. This must be a little later.

Lando thinks about silencing it though because he’s with Carlos, after all. They were having a moment. But Carlos cranes his head to look down at Lando’s screen, sees the candid photo Lando took on Martin’s boat in Amsterdam as his contact photo, and tells him to answer it.

“But I’m with you right now.”

“Answer it, Lando.”

So, Lando answers the phone just before it transfers over to his voicemail and gives a less than stellar, “Hello?” in greeting.

Martin gives a quieter version of the drawn-out “Landoooo,” than he did earlier. It’s very possible this is the first thing Martin’s doing after waking up. He might still be in bed. The thought warms Lando’s chest even more.

Lando must make some kind of distressing noise back because Martin pivots almost immediately. “Lando, what’s wrong?”

Martin has always been able to clock the slightest mood shift in him— he and Carlos both— but today is not one of those days where he can brush it off. Lando breathes in shakily and sniffles. “Nothing—”

“Lando—”

“Nothing, honestly. All the emotions are just catching up with me a bit. Carlos said it’s normal. God knows I need to sleep.”

“Lando,” it’s softer this time, like he’s aching that he’s not there with Lando to make sure he’s okay. Maybe Lando is as well, as much as he loves that Carlos was by his side all evening. To have them both with him all night on top of the win? Lando’s sure there would’ve been some news the following day. “Is Carlos there with you right now?”

“Mmm yeah. We just got back to the room a little while ago. Probably sleep for a few hours before we have to get to the airport.” Carlos tightens his grip on Lando in response, Lando letting him take more of his weight in turn.

“Put the phone on speaker for a sec.”

Lando can’t imagine what Martin has to say to Carlos right now of all times. Surely anything regarding Lando’s well-being wouldn’t be taken well even if Carlos is slowly coming around to enjoy the idea of Martin being physically around more and more. Lando knows how much of a mess Carlos’ head still is. But Lando puts him on speaker anyway. “Okay, you’re on.”

“Tough break today, mate,” Martin says. “You probably could have been up there on the podium otherwise.”

Carlos sighs. “Yeah, it was unfortunate, no? Lando’s little teammate getting in the way.” He nudges Lando in jest, and Lando can’t help but snort in response.

“Naturally. Listen, I’m glad you’re there. I used to see Max after his first several wins. Takes a bit before you learn to manage things as I’m sure you know.”

“Mmm, that it does. I appreciate your thoughts. I could have had a much worse race though and would still be here. You never forget your first.”

“I’m sure. I’ll leave you two alone for now. I’ll talk to you soon, Lan, and we’ll talk plans?” Right, plans for Martin’s birthday and then the week off they both have following it. Martin had briefly suggested a house with a view off a cliff in California since he’ll already be in Las Vegas, but they’ve not talked specifics.

“Yeah, talk soon.” The beeps of a disconnected call ring through the room, and Carlos sighs.