Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

James had never been to Niki's house.  Not this house, not the one he lived in these days, with his wife... the word still had a certain sting, a certain set of discomfiting memories, a certain tightness in his chest.  But Marlene was so unlike Suzy, so calm and so calming, as she took his jacket and told him Niki would be right down... well, she made it easy to be gracious.

The house was quiet, almost disconcertingly so, quiet enough that James heard the pad-pad-pad of the cat approaching on the tiled floor.  It looked up at him, curiously, then bent in a sinuous figure eight around and around his legs, the low rumble of a purr vibrating his calves.  James bent down and picked up the pretty little thing, scratching under its chin and behind its ears.  Not Niki's pet, surely.  "Pretty little pussy, yes, aren't you," he murmured to it.

"Put it down," Niki grumbled, "you get enough pussy already."

James eased the cat to the ground with a smile.  It looked at him, then at Niki, then took off into another room.  "Lovely to see you, too," James said.

Niki shrugged.  He was dressed in his typically staid style, the red cap he had pulled low and tight practically a klaxon in contrast.  A cap in the house?  "I wasn't expecting you."

"No - I had some friends to visit on the continent, so I decided to make a driving trip of it, and pop by while I was in the area."  Not in the area at all, but at least within a few day's driving distance, and James had a rather good car for that.

"Oh, yes, I remember you saying something about spending too much money on a Jaguar."

"Far too much!  It's very pretty and makes a lovely noise.  Come on, let me take you for a ride!"

Niki pulled his collar up over his ears.  "Roadsters are fucking stupid," he opined, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the wind noise.  "If I'm going to be in a car, I want to be warm and comfortable."

"It's all about being out in the open!  The wind in your hair, the crisp air..."

"The head cold," Niki sighed.  James grinned.  He loved mountain roads, and even the most sullen Lauda mood would not change that.  He pitched the car into the next turn, rotating it slightly on the brakes and power-sliding out. "Are you trying to impress me?" Niki asked, his lip twitching.  "I'm not impressed."

"Just having fun."  James pulled over at the next turn-out, stepping out of the car and looking out over the snowy landscape below.  "Very pretty area you have here," he noted to Niki, who had stepped out of the car to stand beside him.

"Yes, I know, I see it a lot."  Niki gazed at the view for a moment, then walked around to the hood of the car.  James stepped in front of him, leaning back on the hood and crossing his arms.

"No," James said, firmly.  "You are not going to open this up and start poking around and telling me what they should have done differently."

"James, it's a car.  Made by someone who doesn't know you, serviced by someone who doesn't know you.  They don't give a fuck."

"It's fine.  I gave it a once-over, it's fine."

"Once-over, once-over, your life is once-over... you give your race cars once-over, the mechanics get sloppy, you get disqualified."

"I won anyway."  James gave Niki a brilliant smile.

"Almost didn't.  Almost didn't again when you didn't take care of your wets, I watched the race later.  You don't care enough about the machine, which means I beat you next year."

"No, I have a plan for next year.  A very good one."  James leaned in closer.  "I'll drive faster than you. Good plan, eh?  Nobody's tried it yet..."

Niki's lip twitched in a buck-toothed smile, and James laughed.  "There you go.  I want you to come to my Christmas party, Niki.  I've come all of this way, I want you to come visit me in turn.  You need to meet my new girlfriend, and all of the old boys from Formula Two will be there..."

"I don't need to meet anyone."  Niki rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, his little twitching gestures even more rat-like than his narrow face and prominent teeth.  "Christmas is stupid, now.  We both have money, we can get what we want. Not like in our flat, when we could actually do nice things for each other."

"Yes," James murmured, thoughtfully.  Back in the flat they shared, trying to save money to stay racing, taking odd jobs here and there... and that year that the old rich bloke that Niki had coached for a track day had decided it wasn't for him, giving his new driving shoes to Niki, who had painstakingly wrapped them and presented them to James for Christmas, the card unapologetically explaining their source.  "That was fun, in a way. I mean, I'm glad we're not struggling anymore, but those were good times."  James was hit with a sudden urge to hug Niki.  He resisted it, because... because.  Because he was a good Englishman, in many ways, and needed to make up for his lack of self-control at the track, his giddy enthusiasm and excess of emotion, his willingness to punch one man or grab this one in a delighted hug... he had to be self-controlled and laconic away from the track, blasé in interviews, dry as a bone in humor.

Niki shrugged.  "They were necessary, I suppose."  He scratched at the tight, shiny skin of his forehead.  "It itches," he grumbled.  "I'm still getting used to it."

"Well, the good part is, you're actually no less handsome than you were before," James jibed.  He could jibe, now.  The first time he had seen Niki back at the track, head swathed in bloody bandages, grunting with the pain of putting on his helmet... he had to run away and throw up.  Again, after his more regular pre-race vomit.  He had made himself come back, though, and made himself see his friend underneath the burns and scars, look Niki in the eye, touch him like before.

"If I promise to come to your idiotic party, do you promise to stop trying to make your clever jokes?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Okay.  Then I will try."

And then James couldn't resist hugging Niki, taking that small, slender body tightly in his arms.

Chapter Text

The glittery boas, silver affairs chased with green and red, that were threaded through the handrail of the staircase were hideously gaudy.  As was the faux wreath on the door, the scent of plastic making Niki's nose twitch.  The fir tree, pruned within an inch of its life and piled with gold and red balls, faux white presents with massive red bows artfully arranged under that tree, was likewise gaudy.  And James's current girlfriend, who couldn't be more than twenty-five and yet had been under the knife (nose job, fake breasts, easy to tell), rounded out the scene, her low-cut dress trimmed with the sad pelt of some formerly living creature across her artifically enhanced cleavage.  "Oh, Niki, so nice to see you!" she lied.  "James will be right down..."

Niki nodded, pulling his cap tighter.  He was under no illusion that right down implied any sort of rapidity, and so found himself a reasonably interesting batch of drivers to chat with - not exactly old friends, but decent enough acquaintances.  They talked of driving, of setup, of old races, of favored tracks and lines, avoiding almost instinctively talk of crashes, of fires, of the too many racing decent-enough-acquaintances who had died at the track before their 30th birthdays.  Niki fended off passing offers of alcohol and more from Hunt groupies of all genders and sizes, and eventually found himself face-to-face with a grinning James, his hair perfect, his green shirt open halfway down his smooth chest.

"Niki!  So good of you to stop by."

"I promised to show up, I show up."

"Where's Marlene?"

"Enjoying herself."  Taking a long, hot bath at home after enjoying a little time with certain female friends.  A far better use of her evening, and Niki wished he was there, instead of here, in the UK, where freezing rain drove away the snow, where Niki had business to attend to, where it would be excessively rude to be without at least stopping by James's place.

"What, wouldn't she enjoy herself if I were around?" James loved to bend low, to get close, to murmur in your ear and let his breath tickle.  Niki resisted being tickled.

"You smell like booze.  Speaking of, here's my gift."  Niki thrust it in James's direction.  As James unwrapped a fifth of expensive Irish whiskey in a heavy glass bottle, Niki added, "Marlene made me get you something expensive.  I told her you'd be so pissed now, you'd never notice."

"Ah, Niki, how sweet!  I'll wait until I'm sober enough to savor it properly."  James set the bottle under the tree, retrieving a package that sat nearby.  "Here, I have something for you, too."  He passed the smaller package over, wrapped in cheery paper adorned with grinning snowmen. 

Niki slid a fingernail under the tape, removing the paper neatly.  It, too, was clearly a bottle, but smaller, plastic, more medicinal... "Burn cream."  Of course.

"Yes, I thought you might like it.  Here, let me read the instructions - I know your English isn't so good.  For external use only - oh, not for vaginal use, watch for that.  Not for rectal use..."

"So you can't use it, asshole," Niki noted, grabbing it back.  James laughed, throwing his arms around Niki.  He could be so free about that, sometimes, so uninhibited with his contact...

"I've missed you," James murmured in Niki's good ear.  "I know this is no time to talk.  Come here on New Year's.  Or I'll come to yours.  I want to see you."

"I'll see," Niki agreed, equally quietly. "I promise, I'll try to make something happen, mine or yours."

"And there we go!" James straightened, his grin threatening to meet around the back of his head.  "Once you've promised, I know I have you."

"And I promise to kick your ass next year, too.  You know that."

"You know that, champion, sir," James corrected.

"Enjoy the champion for now.  I'll have it back soon."

"Oh, trust me," James replied, flinging his arm around a giggling brunette who was most definitely not the girlfriend who had greeted Niki, "I am enjoying."