I can win it the way I am

"Hello," Jenson says, walking over from where he's parked the golf cart. He's in chinos and an oversized polo Steve is almost certain he's worn to present on Sky. "I'm a bit early."

Steve makes a show of glancing down at his watch. "You're the first," he says, but of course Jenson knows that. He nods towards the tent. "He might be asleep."

Jenson's eyes soften and his lips curl into a fond smile. "Maybe I just let him rest," he says, voice dipping quieter.

Steve gives a half shake of the head. "I think he'd be rather put out," he says. "Slot after yours is open, you can stay if you have the time."

Jenson gives him a contemplative look. "Thanks," he says, and then he ducks inside the tent.

Steve places himself directly in front of the magnet strip holding the panels shut. It's not because it makes it marginally easier to hear the soft voices inside. It's the most strategically advantageous placement. Besides, Lando wanted him close.

"Hey, sweetheart." Jenson's voice is barely audible.

Steve can hear the mumble of Lando's reply, but not the words.

"Yeah," Jenson says. He sounds amused. "I was there all weekend. You're too fancy for me now."

A noise of protest from Lando, the sound of rustling.

"Uh-huh," Jenson says. "You're a world champion now."

"So're you," Lando says.

Jenson hums in agreement. "You're a champion forever," he says, voice tipping lower. "They can never take it from you."

There's silence. At least, there's no more talking. It takes a minute for Steve's ears to adjust to the almost staticky sound of lips connecting.

"You and Vale," Jenson murmurs. "Up on that balcony."

Lando giggles, and Steve finds himself smiling at the sound.

"You should've texted," Lando says. "I'd have made time."

Jenson doesn't reply, which Steve takes to mean his mouth is better occupied. There's an abrupt, high-pitched moan and then a chuckle, much deeper.

"Evil," Lando says.

"You love it," Jenson replies.