F1 Driver X Driver

Hold My Boy - Carlos x Lando

"Y-yeah," Carlos mumbled, glancing around him. He was feeling somewhat overwhelmed. 

Through the huge crowd of people, Carlos was trying desperately to find someone in particular. His soft brown eyes became fixed on a vibrant blue number four that was slipping through the crowd. He shrugged off the hands as best he could. He pushed and shoved, glancing this way and that, trying desperately to get through the swarm of celebrating faces. 

"Carlos!" Someone called but he ignored it. People continued to try for his attention shoving microphones, caps, posters, anything, in his face. 

"Give me a minute!" He tried but the hullabaloo was too loud. No one was listening, too busy trying to get a piece of the Grand Prix winner. But Carlos kept his eyes focused. He refused to take them off the white and orange figure still slipping through the crowd. He surged forward, getting closer and closer, reaching out his hand desperately, his fingers fumbling to grab the fabric. 

"L-Lando!" He called, straining his voice. 

The figure didn't respond, threading through the mass. 

"Lando!" Carlos tried again, louder this time. His face contorted in a mixture of pain and struggle. He was starting to feel helpless and overwhelmed. He had to reach Lando. He had to. He must. 

"Lando! Lando! Listen to me you cabrón !" He yelled. 

Tension was building inside him like he was being slowly wound up and soon he would explode. More and more people crowded around him, trying desperately to get a quote or an autograph, something to prove they had an interaction. Dozens of reporters surrounded him, snapping like voulchers around an animal carcass. 

"Carlos, how do you plan on celebrating your very first win?" 

"Carlos, do you think it was a mistake or maybe a fluke you wone today?" 

"Carlos, I can only imagine how ecstatic you must be right now?"

"Carlos, how does your teammate Charles feel about your win today?" 

"Carlos, will you be out partying or is there someone special you'll be with tonight?"

Suddenly Carlos' line of vision was interrupted, a figure standing in the way. Carlos could no longer see the papaya orange racing g suit.

His stomach dropped. Carlos stopped in his tracks, the world blurring at the corners. Hands and faces began to glitch and stutter as the world started to spin. 

"Carlos."

"Carlos."

"Carlos."

"Carlos."

"Give me a minute!" He yelled suddenly, finally snapping. He threw his hands up as if to shelter his head from the impending attacks. People quietened down, stepping back slightly. Carlos let out a shaky breath, pushing and shoving through the huge mass. He tracked his way out of the media pen breathing heavily with the effort. 

His eyes darted this way and that desperate to catch a glimpse of that bright smile, curly hair or colourful clothing. He stopped in his tracks, spinning this way and his eyes scanning the surrounding faces. None of them was him.

He couldn't find him. 

Carlos' felt his heart skip a beat, panic flooding through him and tears starting to well I'm the corners of his eyes. He could hear his name being called, the crowd was catching up to him so he forced his exhausted body to move forward. Now was not the time to have a breakdown, but he couldn't help the emotions swirling in his chest. 

Then, he saw it. The bright orange caught his eyes, a hint of a smile.

His heart began to beat at a rapid pace, his breathing becoming harder. 

Carlos surged down the paddock, his chest and throat tightening. Reporters and interviewers, cameras men, all followed behind him as he started to jog. Carlos jerked his head left and right as he weaved past people. He lost sight a couple of times but as he got closer and closer hope started to rise in him. 

"Lando!" He yelled ducking past someone. He didn't realise how def Lando was. 

"Lando!" He yelled again, the bright orange racing suit starting to turn. A hopeful smile grew on his face, but it dropped instantly. The face of Daniel Ricciardo filled his vision. 

"You right mate?" Daniel said, moving to approach the Spaniard. 

"U- um." Carlos croaked out. Slowly he started to back up, his heart now completely shattered, sitting in a pile of shards in the cavity of his chest. 

"Oh, congrats man, great win." Daniel grinned, reaching out a hand to pat him on the back. Carlos just flinched away, his face frozen in a look of shock and disappointment. 

"You alright mate, you look like you've seen a ghost?" Daniel said, pulling back his hand, worry crossing his face. The McLaren people he was with all turned to look at Carlos with worried expressions. 

For a split second, anger filled Carlos. 

It should be him in that uniform.

It should be him walking back to the McLaren garage. It should be him beside Lando at all times. 

Not Daniel. 

Him. 

But it wasn't was it. And it was his fault. He chose to leave, no one forced him. 

Carlos continued to back away. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, dangerously close to spilling over. Carlos' chest was so tight, that he seemed to forgotten how to breathe. He spun around to make a quick escape when something hit him hard in the front. 

He staggered back, arms clasped tightly around him. The familiar scent of rosemary and milk filled his nose, soft curls tickling his cheek. 

Carlos felt his entire body sink into the embrace, all the tension he held flowing out of him. 

It was like the world went into slow motion as it paused just for this moment. The two wrapped their arms around each other, Lando jumping up to cling his legs around Carlos' torso. They spun around holding tightly to each other as the world unfroze.

"L-Lando." Carlos croaked out, the tears starting to overflow. His arms shot up to wrap around the small man's middle, squeezing him so tight he might have crushed his rib cage. 

"Carlos! I'm so proud of you." Lando yelled excitedly, his arms draped around the Spaniard's neck. Carlos could feel tears on his skin where Lando's face was buried.

Carlos couldn't respond, he was too choked up, too filled with relief to think straight enough for an answer. It was like he was high. Lando was the drug that he craved all the time, needed all the time. 

He was addicted to his scent, his touch, his feel, his sound. Everything. 

"Lando, I couldn't find you. I was so scared." Carlos managed to croak out after a while, gently stroking the back of the Brit's head, trying desperately to have as much physical contact as he could. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn’t there. But I'm here now." Lando said against his ear, squeezing him tightly. 

"You did so well baby, I'm so proud of you," Lando said quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin on his neck.

Carlos took a deep breath, inhaling Lando's sent. 

He was safe now. They both were. His baby was in his arms, he had his very first Grand Prix win. 

Everything was perfect.