Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started with Lando feeling the need to take a stuffed bear with him to Australia.

His first-ever Formula 1 race, equal parts terrifying, overwhelming, and exciting enough that he’d be bouncing everywhere. This was what he’d been working towards since he was a child, even if it hadn’t been his specific goal at that age. But he’d been racing since he was six years old, and this was what it had all been for. All the travelling, all the data, all the training, learning, and moving up the categories.

He was nineteen years old, an adult, so the rampant gut feeling that called for a child’s toy was strange to say the least. He loved cuddles from his family and close friends, like Max, Alex, and George. They always helped to make him feel less anxious, especially when his back or hair was stroked. He felt safe.

But he was growing older now, and cuddles were becoming less frequent, other than from his parents.

Perhaps it was the expectation of no more cuddles now that he was in Formula 1 that was causing this. Like his subconscious knew he would need some comfort items with him over the season ahead. There was no way he was asking his McLaren teammate, Carlos Sainz Jr, for help. That would be way too weird.

So, one day in early February, when he had the day off and he knew Sacha was at the Renault factory, he took himself out into town. Guildford was mostly quiet, with kids being at school and most people at work, only those like him wandering around who may have had the day off, or who were clearly not working any more.

He followed his gut into the kids' toy store in the shopping centre. Earphones in, wrapped up in his coat, scarf and a beanie, he searched around for what called to him. It was like shopping for a niece or nephew, not that he had any of those yet, but knowing he could easily use that as an excuse if the staff questioned him, his nerves disappeared.

Basket in hand, he found the plushie section first. A solid choice of stuffed animals from dinosaurs to dolphins to unicorns. He lingered at the teddy bear shelf, tilting his head as he examined them. They were all the same bear but in different colours: pink, light brown, dark brown, and cream. All their eyes were golden brown, their fur beautifully soft and thick like his hair, and they were all a good cuddly size too. Finding himself staring at the light brown bear, he plucked it off the shelf and placed it carefully inside the basket.

Grinning, he walked around the rest of the shop, stopping in front of a couple of other things that made his heart thump faster inside his chest. Once he was happy he had everything, he paid, making light chatter with the cashier, and headed back to his car.

Once back at his flat, he left the items in their carrier bag at the bottom of his wardrobe. He’d go through them later once he was sure Sacha wouldn’t catch him. Not even Max would know about this. Or his family.

Nobody needed to know about it.

Pre-season Testing and all of their preparation flew by, and before he knew it, he was on the way to Melbourne. A tough destination jet lag-wise, and quite frankly, Carlos’ strict routine went right over his head. They’d have a few days to adjust to the time difference once they were there, so Lando mostly slept when he felt the need, picked at the meals he chose, and got out for a wander when he got too bored.

His parents were there with him, too, which was nice. Lando knew he would need the reassurance and support. And cuddles.

They were travelling the long-haul flight in the section where the seats turn into beds, and there were dividers up, giving the illusion of separate cabins. It granted him privacy, especially when the lights were dimmed, to hug his teddy to help him sleep in the bed that wasn’t his own.

Bobby was the name he gave it. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed to fit. Hidden beneath the blanket, he felt safe enough on the flight to let himself indulge, especially because it helped him drop off to sleep in good time. On the odd occasion when he was awake and members of the team, his parents, or flight attendants stopped to talk to him, Bobby was easily hidden between his thigh and the wall of his seat.

He wouldn’t need Bobby out on every flight ever, but at least for his first race week and seeing as they were flying so far across the world, Lando was far happier that he’d done this for himself.

Nobody knew, and that was the most important thing.

Over the next few race weeks, more flyaways to Bahrain then China, and now closer to home in Azerbaijan, Lando found a routine as he settled into the more rigorous race week format. Not only with his training and media commitments, most of which were sorted out by McLaren and Charlotte would shepherd him wherever he was needed, but with his new need to indulge his inner child.

He wasn’t sure what else to refer to it as, but he’d noticed that he needed it most when he had bad days, whether because he was tired and grumpy, or frustrated with a bad performance on track, or just to get out of his spiralling thoughts over how he didn’t like his appearance. It would make him feel better to time an hour on his phone and forget about everything going on around him while he sat and coloured, hugging Bobby to his chest, while kids' cartoons played on his tablet in the background. He always made sure it was during his free time back at his hotels, but he was hoping to eventually take some to stash in his driver’s room.

The only problem with that was the risk of being caught, but he was hoping that just having the supplies and Bobby nearer to him over the long days would be enough to calm his anxiety.

Jon had already recommended that he see a therapist to help with his anxiety and overwhelm in general, and Lando was fine with obeying that. His trainer, who’d worked with him practically his entire racing career, might be someone he would consider talking to about his new habit because of how much it was clearly helping when he allowed himself the time.

But he was nowhere near ready yet.

It was only ever going to be a matter of time before he accidentally let his guard down.

It was Thursday in Azerbaijan, and Media Day was always one of the most draining days of the race week. He was constantly on camera, whether it was talking in interviews and having to think about his answers, filming marketing videos for McLaren, or the occasional silly video with Carlos for social media. The lack of time on his own to decompress always took it out of him.

Carlos knew this and always tried to make him smile or laugh when they had small breaks, and it did help, making him feel less lost and alone, no matter how many people were in the same room. His teammate (and crush, goddammit) had quickly become a good friend whom he enjoyed working and spending time with. Carlos didn’t look down on him for being a rookie, always full of praise and encouragement, as well as goofing around with him.

It was another reason he was settling more into the race week routines, because Carlos would always uplift him and be more than happy to answer any questions he had or listen to him rant, like when he got taken out of the race in China.

The interviewers wouldn’t stop bringing it up, and Lando had done very well to hide his annoyance if he did say so himself. That and Charlotte having him do multiple takes of a sponsor video because he wasn’t happy enough, he kept forgetting his script, or not projecting his voice enough despite the microphone clipped to his collar.

Come the end of the day, once he was finally excused, waving off Jon’s offer of a massage, insisting he’d have a long hot bath instead, he rushed off to his hotel room.

Making sure to take a bath, setting his phone timer for twenty minutes, he could feel the pull to play with his childlike toys as he wrapped himself up in his fluffy towel. He was relaxed, calm, and excited to sit and colour for a bit and hug Bobby. His brain was a bit too loud and foggy for his cartoons, but some quiet music he could sing or hum to might help.

He dried off and put his pyjama bottoms and a hoodie on, sat at the desk under the window, timer set, earphones in, music on, supplies out, Bobby in his free hand, he breathed deeply and let the stress slip away. His mind quietened, he felt more settled, and the only thing he needed to worry about was colouring inside the lines.

He’d forgotten one thing, though.

The music in his ears wasn’t quiet enough to hear the knock, but he felt the movement of the door dragging against the carpet. Panicked, he spun around in the chair, wrenching his earphones out and shoving Bobby roughly to the floor.

“Sorry, Landito, I did not mean to scare you,” Carlos said softly, hovering behind the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. He couldn’t be mad at the name Landito, it sounded safe, but he could be mad at Carlos for interrupting him. “I’m busy.”

“It’s almost eight pm; we were supposed to have dinner together, no? We said so over lunch?”

Oh no, how had he forgotten that? It really showed how bad a day he’d had. He wanted to stamp his foot, but didn’t want Carlos to be angry at him.

“Don’t wanna,” he muttered, looking at the floor as his head hurt and his eyes stung. “Sorry,” he remembered to add, because his parents had taught him manners.

“May I come in?”

Lando nodded. Carlos was being nice and calm, his voice was gentle and kind. He sniffed and wiped his eyes as he tracked Carlos’ socked feet walking across the room towards him, the connecting door clicking shut behind him.

“Was today too much?” Carlos asked as he knelt before him.

He’d helped several times before, when older Lando felt like the world was caving in and his chest hurt. He knew he could trust Carlos to make him feel better today. He didn’t need to know about everything, but he was quickly starting to feel like it might be a bit too late for that.

Lando nodded, feeling his mouth wobbling. “They wouldn’t shut up. My head hurts.” He rubbed his arms. It felt a bit like a hug.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry you feel like this. Can you tell me how I can help? What do you need?”

“Cuddle,” he said, gasping and covering his mouth. He hadn’t meant to tell Carlos that. He stamped his foot.

“Hey, Landito, it’s okay. Thank you for telling me. Come here.”

Lando looked up, eyes widening as he stared at Carlos. He was still kneeling on the carpet, smiling warmly, arms open.

It was all Lando needed before he slipped off the chair, flung his arms around Carlos’ neck and sobbed into his shirt.

“It’s stupid.”

Lando rested his head on his knees. He was sitting on the bed up against the headboard, Carlos cross-legged in front of him, a little distance away.

“No, Lando, it’s not. Please, I want to listen.”

He took a breath and shrugged. “I dunno how to explain it. Sometimes when things get too much, I’m too stressed and anxious, I don’t wanna deal with everything, I feel the need to be younger. And I feel better again.”

“It helps?”

Lando nodded. “It’s like a different headspace. All my bad thoughts go away, there’s nothing to worry about, and I can just exist. Have some fun. I watch cartoons, I sit and colour, I hug my teddy. It’s nice.”

“And no one knows about this? You just do it on your own?”

“Well, yeah, it’s embarrassing, Carlos. Who the fuck would take me seriously ever again if they knew? I’m an F1 driver. You weren’t even supposed to know.”

Carlos looked hurt.

After Lando had calmed down in Carlos’ arms, he felt like his usual self and had immediately packed everything away, including Bobby, grabbed his phone and curled himself up against the headboard as small as he could make himself.

Carlos had made him feel so safe and looked after, so he didn’t send him away. His friend even got him a bottle of water and insisted he drink as much as he could because he’d been crying.

He then sat on the bed and asked if Lando wanted him to leave, and he shook his head. Then he’d asked if Lando wanted to talk about it. He felt like he had no choice but to explain himself after Carlos had caught him in the middle of it.

“It’s not embarrassing, Landito.”

“Don’t,” he spat, and then immediately apologised. “Sorry, I think I only like that name when I’m like that.”

Carlos nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. But see, you’re doing great!”

“Great at what?” Lando stared at him.

“Telling me what you need so I can help you.”

“You can’t help me with this, Carlos! I don’t even understand it, but you can’t possibly help me.” He was doing just fine on his own. He had a routine, it had proven to be helpful, and maybe he could open up to his therapist about it now that his friend and co-worker Carlos knew.

“I just did, no?”

Very funny. “Yeah, once, and thank you for that, but I can’t expect you to help me all the time. I’m an adult.”

Carlos had his own schedule, emotions, and coping mechanisms to worry about. He didn’t need to be bothering with him.

His friend sighed. “I hate that you think you need to do this on your own.”

“It’s been working out fine so far.” He sat up, crossed his own legs and folded his arms again. “You only found out because I fucked up, that’s my own fault.”

His timer went off on his phone, and he swiped it away before throwing his phone down on the bed.

Carlos was looking at him with his eyebrow raised.

“That’s my alarm. I give myself an hour.”

“An hour a day?”

“Only when I feel like I need it. I can’t explain it, but I just feel it.” That gut feeling, that pull, his body and brain tugging at him, that he needed to check out for a bit and let himself be younger. He’d check back in when the timer went off, and he could calmly pack everything away and let himself rest.

“So what if you need to when we’re busy?”

Lando scoffed and shrugged. “I just don’t. I tell myself I’ll do it later when I’m alone and safe in my hotel room. I know I can’t do it anywhere else, not just because it’s weird but because we’re always so busy and I don’t have the time or space.”

“That can’t be healthy, Lando.”

“It’s whatever, okay!” Lando leaned his head back against the headboard. “I’m already in therapy for my anxiety, so perhaps I can just tell her about this the next time I talk to her and see what she says.”

“Well, at least that’s something.”

Lando glared at him. “Why are you being so normal about this?”

“Because I want to help you.”

“Why?” Lando felt his heart thumping inside his chest, and he hugged his knees again. He wasn’t sure how to handle Carlos being so nice about everything. He’d maybe expected him to call him a freak and leave, slamming and locking the door.

“Because I care about you. You’re my friend, I want to help you when you’re hurting.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, sniffing and wiping his eyes as he’d begun to cry again. “For fuck’s sake. Sorry, I’m such a mess.”

“Please don’t apologise, cariño. I know it must have been difficult for you, especially if you weren’t ready to tell me. I’m sorry for not at least texting first. I’ll do that next time. You can lock the door between our rooms, and you can message me when you are ready to see me.”

Lando was grateful that Carlos was trying to look out for him and respect his space. But the thought of locking the door between their rooms made him feel weird. They already knocked to be respectful, and Lando had completely forgotten they’d made plans. That was on him.

His stomach finally rumbled, and they both looked at each other before giggling. Lando didn’t much fancy getting dressed again and heading to the restaurant downstairs, though, and Carlos must have seen it in his body language.

“We can order room service and stay in here. If you’re comfortable enough?”

Lando nodded gratefully, taking a deep sigh of relief. “That sounds great, thank you.”

“Don’t be afraid to do anything you need to, okay? I’ll look after you.”

Carlos hugged him again when Lando asked for it, and he got Bobby back out of his bag so he could run his fingers over him as they ate. As he was already bathed and in his pyjamas, Lando was ready to jump straight into bed once he’d started yawning as their dinner of turkey and avocado salad with some fruit settled in his stomach.

Carlos stayed with him until he fell asleep, plugging in his phone, setting the water bottle on the bedside table, and turning off the lights, bar the soft one behind the headboard, which glowed a warm, calming amber.

Drifting off to gentle fingers stroking through his hair, Lando slept better than he had done in days.