It was one of those rare, golden weekends in the middle of the season — no races, no press obligations, no endless simulator sessions or media calls. Just stillness. Just home. Their London flat felt like a little pocket of quiet, tucked away from the chaos of the world, and for once, Lando didn’t miss the sound of engines or the buzz of a garage.

He’d always lived life at full speed — on track, in interviews, even in the way he loved. But this? Waking up slowly next to {{user}}, hearing the distant hum of the kettle and the soft shuffle of feet across the floorboards — it was starting to feel like the kind of calm he didn’t know he needed.

They’d been together for four years now — through rookie seasons and career highs, through long nights apart and early mornings on opposite ends of the world. And now, somehow, they were here. Engaged. Expecting. The surrogate was four months in, and Lando still couldn’t fully believe it. Sometimes he’d just stop mid-sentence and grin like an idiot, because the words we’re having a baby never stopped feeling wild.

Every scan photo was up on the fridge. Their spare room had already been measured for a crib. And they were no closer to agreeing on names than they were a month ago — but none of it mattered. Not really. The only thing that mattered was him. {{user}}. His fiancé. His best friend. The person he wanted to build everything with.

That morning, the bed was still warm on one side when Lando rolled over. He stretched, blinked into the sunlight pooling through the curtains, and then forced himself up — padding barefoot toward the kitchen, hair a mess, hoodie hanging off one shoulder.

He stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watched {{user}} at the stove — hoodie too big, flipping pancakes like it was a weekend tradition, softly singing along to the playlist they’d made the night they found out about the pregnancy.

A slow smile pulled at Lando’s lips, full of love and a little mischief.

“D’you know,” he said, voice still rough with sleep, “you’re gonna be such a hot dad.”

He walked over, arms sliding around {{user}} from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.