#woooo nelly i am RUSTY

[quigzahhutt]

12. for the hurt/comfort prompt asks my good sir 🕺🕺 🫡🫡 for whoever you please

this is such an interesting one! I had a hard time figuring out how to contextualize this in a way I found interesting but I think I've got it >:3

for the dialogue prompt ask game!

Prompt: "can you talk?"

Pairing: Lando Norris/Max Fewtrell

His knuckles meet the door with a hollow sound, the flimsy nature of these driver room doors means the sound echoes strangely around the small hallway.

"Lando, buddy, are you ok?" Max feels silly calling through the door like this; privacy was never a thing for them– it was always either burst in without warning, or shout something and then burst in. Establishing this level of hesitancy is completely out of character.

"I know you haven't been feeling well, mate, you're worrying me," he continues talking though the wall, ear pressed to the thin frame to try and pick up any signs of life in the room.

He leans in and almost falls flat on the floor as Lando swings the door open suddenly, causing him to tumble gracelessly into the small room.

After flicking Lando in the shoulder for almost killing him, Max realizes how truly awful he looks.

Where Lando's face isn't flushed, he's horribly pale, nearly green around the soft tissue surrounding his eyes. His brows are constantly pinched, mirroring the taut nature of his shoulders.

Max tries to reach for his shoulder, but Lando flinches away from him and that's when Max knows something is seriously wrong.

"Are you sore? Does your... is your skin achy?"

Lando just huffs at him; it's a humorous sound, kind of like he's making fun of Max, as if he's telling him "yeah, you muppet." He can practically hear it in his voice.

The silence is very unwelcome. Max is aware that Lando's throat has been real bad, but to the extent he isn't even making any noise at all? He can feel his brows furrow together.

"Can you talk?" Lando shakes his head, "At all?" Max stresses.

The look he gets in response is comical, crooked and dramatized, but it makes them both laugh; Lando huffs out an unimpressed sound, one that's accompanied by a harsh swallow before he crumples again.

A chronic grimace has made itself comfortable on Lando's face, and Max has to stop himself from reaching out instinctively; he would rather avoid a harsh smack on the shoulder today.

They sit in silence for a while, listening individually to the busy sounds of the hospitality on the other side of the wall. Someone is talking particularly loudly, and the clinking of various dishes acts as a buffer.

Through the door, Daniel enters his own room on the other side of the hallway, the hinges clicking shut and seemingly shutting out the entire rest of the world before he starts half-singing, half-humming a random tune.

Max looks across from him to find Lando typing something furiously on his phone, twisting the device around so Max can read the screen.

'it hurts too much to take my race suit off can you help me?'

"'Course, mate," Max snorts, "is it your shoulders?"

Lando visibly relaxes at that, and nods his head slowly, his face twisting in pain again as he goes to unzip his suit.

It's a methodical process, one that Max has done for himself a number of times. It's definitely strange, feeling Lando's hardened body beneath his hands instead of his own; he's touched Lando plenty before, but for some reason, the gentle touches he's utilizing to ease the sleeves off makes it all different.

He has to grasp at Lando's shoulder to tug the second sleeve off, and the hiss he gets in response doesn't go unnoticed, and a soft, soothing affirmation slips out of Max's mouth before he could even realize.

It's nothing weird for them. They say things like that all the time, encourage each other a bit too intimately. People look at them funny, yeah, but it's not weird to them; it's just how they've always been.

But right now, all soft touches and tender angles? Max starts to feel weird over it, the cauldron in his belly that Lando seems to control begins to boil over.

Once the sleeves go, the rest of the suit follows quickly, and the trousers are easily tugged off after Lando's hips prove a bit of difficulty.

When had Lando's body changed so much? It feels like just yesterday the two of them were sitting together on the stairs of his mum's front porch, soaking up the sun, practically nothing but skin and bone and baby teeth.

Now he's– he's solid, taller than him, even if it's just by a bit. His hair is curlier, and his teeth have straightened out artificially. He's lean but bulky and so different from how Max knew him all those years ago. His smile is still the same, though, wide and gappy.

Sometimes Max feels unreasonably pissed off that other people get to see it; he wishes he could keep Lando's smile all to himself, and he usually has to throw himself into a random task to take his mind off of that line of thinking.

The fireproofs prove to be more of a challenge; Lando's still a bit sweaty so the fabric is stubborn, sticking valiantly to all of his more intimate places. Max averts his gaze from the damp lines on Lando's inner thighs, inching up and up and up to where Max has never seen him, the only inch of skin he doesn't know like the back of his hand.

He shakes his head a bit too noticeably and begins treating this a bit like those practice pit stops; the ones the teams like to make the drivers do just for shits and giggles.

Roll the waistband, ignore the damp elastic of Lando's Calvin Klein boxers, inch the fabric down his thighs and then tug on the ankle cuffs to pull them all the way off. Easy enough.

While he was working on the trousers, Lando had wiggled his way out of the shirt and was already throwing on a big knit top.

How he's wearing something knitted, Max has no idea. The man is sweaty enough as it is, and yet he's throwing on a jumper– Lando does that all the time and it absolutely drives him up the wall.

The bottoms come off easily and Max breathes a grounding breath as Lando immediately replaces them a new pair of sweats.

"You won't be too hot?" Max asks as soon as he's collected himself, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

Instead of fighting back like he normally would, though, Lando just pouts, licks his top row of teeth like he does when the sim is being a bit tricky.

"No- come on, mate, I wasn't being serious, it's fine," he immediately backpedals, "I just know that I would get hot, is all. I'm just worrying about you, like a fool."

Lando quirks his lips up in response, a smug thing, as if he had just won whatever interaction they just had.

"Let me worry about you a bit more, yeah?" He waits for Lando to nod, "I'm taking you to the doctor." He says before Lando can say no.

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ACKK I've never written this pair before but I like them!! a lot !!! I hope u enjoyed :)