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Franco collapses onto his bed, not bothering to change out of his fireproofs with his suit bunched around his waist. He finally got back to his motorhome, and after a semi-disappointing result for not getting into the points and the overall post-race emotions, he finds he barely even has the energy to breathe.
He’s just on the brink of passing out when there’s a knock on the door, four raps in quick succession followed by three slower taps.
It’s a little mortifying how Franco’s exhaustion almost immediately flees his body the moment he hears it, knowing who’s at the other side of the door.
He rolls out of bed, and in his haste to get to the door almost trips over his feet, but successfully makes it there in one piece, swinging the door open with an embarrassing rhythm beating up to his throat.
Immediately, he’s greeted by a blinding beam—Lando grinning from ear to ear, eyes lighting up the minute they meet Franco’s gaze. Lando’s face is flushed, a pretty shade of scarlet painting his tan skin. He’s the victor, the main character of the night. Franco’s shocked he’s even standing here in front of him and not out partying.
“Hey.” Franco breathes out, a little dumbly.
Lando bites his lip before bursting into a giggle, his hand immediately finding its place on Franco’s waist as he makes his way inside the room. Franco distantly closes the door behind him, turning around only to be crowded against the door by Lando.
“Hey, Coco. Missed you.” It’s a nickname Lando had given him, not long before they even got together. “Fran-co and Co-lapinto. Co-co. Adorable, isn’t it?” He’d said. Franco rolled his eyes and called it cheesy but the way he smiled every time Lando called him that gave his fondness away.
Lando pecks his lips after he stops giggling, only to pull back and meet Franco’s dumbfounded gaze and start giggling again. “You okay there, darlin’? Or has the heat done a number on you?”
“That…is a very good question. At this point, i don’t really know.” Franco says sheepishly.
It’s still a bit surreal sometimes to think that Lando’s his boyfriend. Of course, Franco’s not going to voice that sentiment out loud. He embarrasses himself enough in front of Lando. Lando doesn’t need any more fodder for his teasing.
“Were you resting? Did i disturb you?” Lando asks, a large palm coming up to gently caress his cheek, thumb softly brushing the skin under his eye.
Franco’s eyes flutter shut under his soothing ministrations as he nuzzles into the warmth of Lando’s big hand. God did Lando have big fucking hands.
“I was, but it’s okay Lando. I’m happy to see you.” Franco cracks an eye open to find Lando shooting him a dopey grin. Franco feels something bubbly and warm fill his chest. “I thought you were going to celebrate?”
“What, without even telling you?!” Lando exclaims, scandalised. He lightly pinches Franco’s cheek, making the younger pout. “I’m passing on the partying tonight. Too fuckin’ tired for that. Tomorrow though? You’re comin’ with me.” Lando says, an impish grin spread on his face and a manic glint in his eyes.
Franco grins back. “Obviously.”
Lando leans in again, slowly, the hand on his waist giving it a little squeeze and the hand on his cheek trailing up to card through Franco’s hair. He kisses the corner of Franco’s lips, slow and tender. It makes Franco feel like he’s melting, and for a second he thinks his legs might give out.
“What say we celebrate together, hm? Just you, me and a bottle of wine?” Lando murmurs, lips still pressed to Franco’s skin.
Franco shivers at the sensation. “Wine? How romantic.”
“Savin’ the shots for tomorrow.”
“Mm…” Franco shifts his head slightly, enough to catch Lando’s lips in a proper kiss. He relishes in the way Lando sags against him, lips moving languidly with his. “Let’s take this to the bed?”
Lando groans, nipping at Franco’s bottom lip before pulling back, a hungry look in his eyes as he starts leading Franco to the bed without a verbal response.
Franco knows there’s only more exhaustion ahead. He doesn’t mind it at all, though.