Same but... different (Lestappen and Carlando)

Chapter 12

POV: Lando

I wake up feeling refreshed, lazily stretching in the bed. The sunlight is beaming through the curtains, and multiple sounds are reaching my ears, among which I recognise the familiar voice of my ex-teammate. I have no idea of the time, but I can smell breakfast being cooked and my stomach growls at the delicious smell.

I decide to get up, seeing that it's already quite late while taking a look at my phone. I choose to dress casually, opening my suitcase and rummaging through it. Suddenly, I realise something: I'm a terrible searcher, because right in front of me are my pyjamas, the same that I was looking for yesterday for like 15 minutes. And now I can't be found being this dumb, what would Carlos think? Plus, I actually quite enjoyed sleeping in his clothes... it made me feel safe, somehow.

I decide to place them at the very bottom of the luggage, putting everything else on top of it. Hopefully he won't see them, I think to myself while getting out of the room, guided by the voices to locate the kitchen.

— Good morning Lando! Carlos greets me, his mouth full of...pancakes?

The voice of his parents follows his, and I find myself being immediately placed right next to him, in front of a huge plate of pancakes. From the corner of my eye, I notice Carlos' mother looking insistently at my... clothes? But I shake the thought and ignore the fact that she probably recognized her son's clothes on me.

— Hum hi! Is this for me? I ask smiling, as the couple sits in front of us.

— Sí, take what you want!

I thank them and generously serve myself a nice amount of food, everything looking delicious. I'm eating peacefully when the man on my left suddenly starts chuckling, and I notice that he's looking at me.

— What?

— Wait, you have chocolate everywhere on your face man!

— Oh.

I try to clean myself with a tissue but suddenly Carlos takes it from my hand, placing it on the table. I look at him curiously, wondering why he stopped me but quickly get the answer. He leans in and with a very attentive look cleans the last bits of chocolate on my face, letting me feel how warm his hands are. He's so focused and the sudden attention makes my heart accelerate. I'm not dumb to the point of not recognizing a nice gesture when I see one. But is this normal amongst friends? I have no idea.

It doesn't stop there though. Because after getting all the chocolate on his fingers, the Spanish man proceeds to lick them, and I feel a new heat unfurling in me. How can something as simple as that can be that hot? Wow, what? I mean... I can't really lie on what I'm feeling right now, but I need to know what it means for me. I shake my head, reconnecting with the reality and my still hungry stomach. It's nice being cared for, but it's even better to devour those fluffy pancakes while they're still a bit warm.

— So, how are you doing at McLaren Lando? Carlos' father asks, trying to make conversation

— Oh it's great! I mean, we would like to be more often up there, but Sunday's race went really well so, I can't really complain I guess! And I love sharing the podium with this man here, I add while smiling and pointing at the Ferrari driver.

— Mhh yeah okay! I'm sure it will get even better, don't worry!

—Ya, pero te quedas un fan de Ferrari primero eh? (But you're staying a Ferrari fan first, hum?) Carlos answers jokingly, addressing himself to his father. As long as these guys stay behind it's good, he finishes with a huge smile.

Everyone laughs and we finish eating in a relaxed ambient. Suddenly, as we get up and I help put everything in the sink, loud barks resonate, startling me. I let out a very unmanly squeak, reaching over to Carlos for protection. Whose dog escaped and broke in?