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Nico Rosberg, somewhere in Germany, early August 2023

Nico's in the middle of the autobahn when he gets the call.

It's the beginning of summer break, and for some reason he can't quite understand, most drivers have decided to spend their time in Monaco this year. Normally they go on vacations all across the globe, so he can live his life in peace. This year, he's come across five of them in the first two days of summer break, and when he saw the door of his apartment open, his brain shut down.

Now he's driving across Germany with no clear destination in mind. It's just about driving fast. Not as fast as in an F1 car, but still considerably faster than in most other countries, and it's always good to be in his home country. Even though home for most of his life wasn't Germany; but hotel rooms and Monaco and a person. It's still always good to be in Germany.

He's startled when he reads the caller ID on the display of his car. Talks with Toto aren't that uncommon, whereas talks with Susie are a regular thing, but never during summer break. 

With a sigh he turns down the music and accepts the call, mind racing with constantly worsening reasons of why Toto would call him now.

"Toto?"

His voice comes out slightly strangled, betraying his worries. Shit. He tries to clear his throat as discreetly as possible, doing his best to appear calm rather than anxious.

"Hey, Nico, how you doing?"

Toto sounds casual, almost too casual. Nico's anxieties rise further, scenarios flying through his head. The factory burned down, Susie got into an accident, something happened to Jack, the mechanics fucked something up, the drivers got injured, Lewis got injured,...

"Yeah I'm good man, how are you?" This time, he manages to sound more normal, less on edge. He considers it a small win. The tight hold he has on the steering wheel loosens a little when Toto laughs quietly, a familiar sound that eases his nerves the way it always does.

"You're in the car, aren't you?" He's still laughing, and while Nico doesn't see why this is funny, he can still appreciate the calming effect it has on his body. They've known each other for a while, after all. Toto never quite got the hang of how to deal with him at his worst, but he got quite good at talking to Nico in a steady, soothing string of words until someone, preferably Lewis, sometimes Susie, usually Vivian, got to them.

Nico loves Toto. They don't talk about what's going on in his head, what's always been going on in his head, especially during his last season, but Toto always knows. He doesn't need many explanations, he just understands.

"Yeah, somewhere between Dortmund and Leverkusen,” Nico shrugs. After all, he has no clue where he's going, but he knows he passed Dortmund a while ago, and he saw a sign announcing the remaining distance to Leverkusen earlier.

"You still haven't told me how you are, how Susie and Jack are doing, and why you're calling in the first place." 

Anyone else would tell him he's being rude, but Toto knows he isn't one for smalltalk. Not anymore, at least.

Toto snorts. "Right. Impatient as ever, Nico Rosberg. I'm great, Susie and our boy are doing well, and I'm calling to see if you have plans for the summer break." Nico blinks. That was definitely not on his list of possible scenarios. 

"Why?" It's easier to answer with another question than give Toto a reason to see right through him when he inevitably tells him he's driving around Germany just to avoid being in Monaco.

"I wanted to see if you're free to come to the factory for a talk." His hands on the steering wheel tighten again. There is no plausible reason for him to come to the factory. His contract with Mercedes is long over, and while he still has relations to the team, and will always think of it as his, there's no reason for him to be at the factory. He has no business being at the factory.

"Why, Toto?" He sounds desperate again and he's aware of it, but the only possible explanation he can come up with is Lewis and that doesn't make sense. Lewis is in Monaco, that's why Nico's even in this situation right now, why would Toto call him to ask for his presence at the factory?

He hears Toto sigh on the other end of the line, exasperated.

"I forgot that you always have to know every detail before you accept something," he says, but it sounds fond rather than annoyed or stressed, so the tight coil of anxiety in his stomach eases up a bit.

It's silent for a while. Nico waits for Toto to finally explain himself, and Toto's just breathing into his phone, testing Nico's patience.

"Nico. Pull over at the next stop and park the car."

He almost protests, but Toto sounds like he did when he instructed him on the circuit, so he agrees. 

As if Toto had known, the next exit is just a few kilometers away, and once Nico's pulled over, left the autobahn and parked his car, Toto opens his mouth again.

"I'm retiring at the end of this season."

Nico's mouth drops open. Toto lives, bleeds and breathes Mercedes, he's the most loved team principal, just barely fifty years old, why would he retire now?

"What?"

"I'm retiring at the end of the 2023 season."

"Yeah, I heard you, but what the fuck, Toto?"

Toto snorts, "Want me to repeat it again? I'm retiring at the end of this season. The announcement will come shortly before Abu Dhabi, I'll leave before Christmas. After the Christmas break someone else will be team principal."

Nico's in shock. He knows that he's supposed to say something, anything, but he can't. The words won't come, and he doesn't know what he'd say if they did.

Thankfully, Toto just keeps talking. "Susie has the Academy now, so she's doing a lot of travelling that doesn't align with my schedule, and Jack either has to come with one of us or stay home with the grandparents, and we've decided it'd be best for me to step back and let her have her career now. I had two world champions and multiple constructors, my time has come, don't you think?"

"So you'll be a stay-at-home-husband now?"

"Yeah, that's the plan," Toto laughs, sounding very content with the way his future will play out. What the fuck?

"And where do I come into this? Not that I don't appreciate you telling me, I do, thank you for that, but Toto, why are you telling me this?"

His voice is cutting, the same way it was in 2016, and he flinches against his will. Even though he's done more therapy in the past ten years than he's been on dates, the championship battle is still a gaping wound. He hurts every time he remembers it.

"Because I want you to become my successor."

If he thought his jaw dropped before, he was wrong. He sits in his car, mouth wide open in shock, eyes huge, hands clutching the steering wheel. Toto was definitely right to force him to leave the road, he would have crashed the car otherwise.

"Nico, breathe," Toto says soothingly, and Nico's mouth snaps shut. He forces himself to take a deep breath, let the familiar feel of his steering wheel underneath his palms ground him. "I… You… You want me to… Toto, what?"

The man chuckles. He has the audacity to chuckle. 

"I would like for you to be my successor. The next Mercedes team principal. You drove the cars, you know the staff, you know the factory, you know how to analyse the data. Nico, you're the perfect choice. I wouldn't trust anyone else to do the job. You know Mercedes, you know how to run a team. Truly, Nico, you're the man."

He needs a moment, a minute, an hour, to digest that. Toto doesn't seem to agree, instead he just keeps talking.

"You'd attend the races as my apprentice. You can also keep up the Sky work, that'll be fine. People don't have to know just yet, it's enough if we announce that before Abu Dhabi, when we announce my retirement. I can teach you everything you need to know in the second half of the season and by December, the team is yours. I have full faith in you, Nico."

"No."

Toto falls silent. Nico doesn't say anything else, too focused on keeping his breathing even. He can't possibly become team principal of Mercedes. He left F1 for a reason, he left Mercedes for a reason, coming back in an even higher position would potentially be suicide.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no. Toto, I left for a reason. It became poison for me. I damn near killed myself, you know that better than anyone. I can't go back. I can't. I can't be around him, Toto, that just won't work. We'll tear each other apart again. He won't like that I have power over him, it'll be a bloodbath. No, Toto. You need to find another successor."

The Austrian sighs. "He's changed, Nico. You've changed. Neither of you are the same person as you were during your battles. You heard what he said. He's better than he was then. You're better than you were then. It would work, this time around. Trust me, Nico."

He stays silent again, considering.

"Just think about it, okay? Think about it and call me when you made a decision. I'll be at the factory for the whole summer break. Give me a call and the position's yours, yeah?"

Nico hums, then hangs up, slumping over the steering wheel. 

Before he knows it, he's calling Vivian.

"Viv," he breathes when she answers the call, breaking down completely.

"Nico, Nico, hey, darling, you're okay," his best friend coos, unwavering. She's an angel, really.

After a while, he can think clearly again. "Sorry, Vivi," he whispers. He's genuinely sorry for always disturbing her, probably imposing on her time with her girlfriend and the girls, for always crying on her, relying on her so much.

"Never be sorry, sweetheart," she gives back. Her voice is so genuine, not a trace of annoyance in her tone. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Toto called," he offers.

"Lewis is okay?" 

If this wasn't so serious, he'd laugh that her immediate reaction is the exact same as his. 

"Yeah. In Monaco."

"So that's why your location's in the middle of nowhere?" She's definitely teasing now, the soft voice of her girlfriend sounding in the background. It's familiar.

He doesn't deign that with a response, instead opting for elaborating. "Toto's retiring this year and wants me to take over."

Both women fall silent on the other line, before they talk all over each other.

"You said yes, right?"

"No, babe, be serious, he definitely said no and that's why he called you panicking. Viv, that's Nico, be realistic."

He should probably be offended, but Luisa's right. Unfortunately she saw right through him the way both of them usually do.

"Yeah. I just can't be around him that much, you know? I retired from Formula One so I'd see him less, so I could finally get over him and fall in love with someone else."

"How's that going for you?"

"Shut it, I tried. It's not my fault he got knighted, not my fault his face is everywhere, that he just got so much more beautiful and is so insanely kind."

They dissolve into giggles again before Vivian pulls herself together.

"You're in love with him, you never got over him, and now you're terrified your fragile peace will shatter when you're on the same team as him again. Right?"

He doesn't say anything, which, as usual, just serves as agreement for Vivian. She just knows him too damn well.

"Nico. You can't let your whole world rotate around him. You need to stop avoiding him. All that does is give you false security."

"And has it maybe crossed your mind that your healing can't work when you still haven't made peace with each other? That maybe you still need him? If not in your private life, then at least professionally," Luisa adds. Why did Vivian have to date a woman that's even more fixated on psychology than she herself is?

"I see him plenty," he grumbles. They do live in the same building, after all. 

"Then you need closure."

"I retired for a reason."

"And then you came back as a reporter. Nico, darling, you miss the sport just as much as you miss him. This is your chance of getting both back. You have to take it."

He shakes his head, but he knows Vivian's right. It's everything he ever wanted.

"I'll consider it."

Both women cheer loudly, talking all over each other again. Clearly, they see it as their personal victory. It probably is. Considering it in Nico's language is a yes, as he's had to learn over the past decades.

He starts the car again with his friends' constant chattering in the background after setting his GPS on the factory's address. There's a bag with essentials and clothes in his trunk, and he wants to drive anyway, might as well drive to England.

                                         ❀❁

When he arrives in Brackley the next day, he's a right mess. His hair is greasy and knotted from how many times he's dragged his hands through it, and he wants nothing more than to take a shower and sleep for twelve hours straight. Unfortunately, he has no hotel room booked and he sold his flat in Brackley in 2017. Looking for a hotel room now is the last thing he wants to do, so he does the thing anyone else would do. He calls Susie.

"Nico, sweetheart?"

"Susie, I need a huge favour."

"Yes, you can sleep in the guest room. We were expecting you." She sounds amused, deeply fond, but he still blanches. "What do you mean, you were expecting me? I never told Toto yes."

Susie snorts. "Nico, we know you. When you didn't give your final no we all knew it was going to be a yes. The room's prepared for you, whenever you'd like to come."

He swallows around the lump in his throat and the warm feeling in his stomach. "Thank you, Susie." She laughs again, Jack calling for her in the background. "Anytime, Nico. Gotta go now, I'll see you soon, yeah?"

They hang up and he gets back to driving. Just a bit longer and then he can finally sleep.

Their house isn't as big as you might imagine a team principal's house to be, but it's a home, and Nico loves it. 

Jack opens the door for him when he rings the doorbell with his bag, smiling widely. "Nico!" He drops the bag, picks up the boy and twirls him around the same way he does his goddaughters, basking in the happy giggles he gets in return.

"Hey, Rosberg," Susie greets, leaning in the doorway. Nico puts Jack back down and hugs her hello, soaking up her comfort. He loves this family.

Susie leads him inside, pointing him to the guest room and promising to let him shower before forcing him to eat dinner. He's beyond grateful for her.

The shower makes him feel alive again, but having lunch with Susie and Jack makes him doubt every choice that brought him here. What even is he thinking, becoming the new Mercedes team principal?

Jack runs off quite soon after lunch, but Susie and Nico stay at the table. "You regret coming here, don't you?" Nico stares. "Why does every woman in my life know what I'm thinking?" She snorts, taking his hand over the table.

"Nico. You're allowed to do this. It's not selfish, and it might be hard, but you'll do so well. You're meant to be in this world just as all of us are, and you'll make the best team principal. I promise."

"What if I'm not strong enough? If it gets way worse again?"

She smiles at him reassuringly. "Then we'll catch you again. Nico, you're not alone. The whole team, the whole paddock loves you. Everyone would be delighted to have you back."

Well. He might've suffered in F1, but it was always his dream, and this might just be his second chance. Who is he to turn down an opportunity to get back to doing what he loves most? Racing might be off the table, but being team principal is infinitely more interesting than what he's doing with Sky. Especially if it's with his team.

"I'm doing it."

She smiles again, this time knowingly. He gets up before she can voice her triumph, it's enough that Vivian and Luisa think this is their doing, Susie doesn't need to join them in that.

Still, she calls after him when he's halfway upstairs. "Nico! You'll be the best thing that's happened to Mercedes, to us, again."

Nico keeps walking before he can do something stupid, like cry again, escaping to bed to finally catch up on sleep. And maybe avoid Toto's triumphant grin until the next morning, even though he's just eaten lunch. He'll sleep.

Surprisingly, the next time he wakes up really is the next morning, and only because the family's voices are loud enough to reach him in the guest room. Jack's talking animatedly, Toto's encouraging him, and Susie's laughing fondly. It reminds him of Vivian, Luisa and their girls, and it makes him wish for a family of his own.

They greet him with cheers. Toto's accent is even more prominent when he's teasing someone, it makes Nico laugh. He knows Toto's talking English for Susie's sake, probably Jack's as well, but he still can't help himself from replying to Toto's "Look who has woken up from the dead" with a cheerful "Halt die Fresse, Torger", making the man laugh out loud.

Susie smirks at him. "I understood that. And the government name really drove the point across, great job, Nico. We'll make a nice man out of him, you and I."

Nico claps her shoulder amicably, walking on into the kitchen to get himself some of that coffee he knows tastes delicious. With the cup in his hands, he returns to the table, sitting down with one leg tucked underneath him, inhaling the smell of coffee.

"What?" 

Toto and Susie are both watching him with fond eyes. "Nothing," Toto smirks, taunting. Nico raises an eyebrow at him until he relents.

"You sit the same way."

It's clear who he's talking about. After all, there's only one name they're constantly avoiding, or only cautiously pronouncing, always gauging his reaction.

This time, he only raises the left corner of his mouth before he sets down his cup and gets some of the prepared breakfast on his plate. Not having dinner does make one hungry, after all.

Jack's still talking about one of his friends and their most recent fight, so both Toto and Susie focus back on their kid rather than Nico. He's relieved, it allows him to eat breakfast without their gentle scrutiny. Because suddenly, he misses Lewis fiercely again.

They never dated, always too scared to put a label on this thing between them, but he's been in love with Lewis for longer than he can remember. For some time, he was sure Lewis was in love with him, too. That was the happiest time of his life. And even though they never dated officially, they were together for the better part of a decade. Nico didn't sleep with anyone but Lewis during that time. He pretended, but his heart belonged, belongs, to Lewis. In the end, he's not sure the same could be said for Lewis, because Lewis was always too big to only be loved by one person. He loves him with everything he has, though.

Eventually, their not-relationship, best-friends-with-benefits-arrangement, turned sour, tainting their friendship and teamwork right along with it. To this day, letting it die is Nico's biggest regret. He doesn't regret his championship, but he regrets losing Lewis along the way, regrets how they forced each other out of their lives, how they tore each other apart.

During one of their final fights, he'd accused Lewis of cheating on him the same way he'd cheated himself into his first championship. It was said out of anger, in a desperate attempt to protect the remaining pieces of his shattered heart. He didn't really believe it, hadn't meant it, but Lewis had flinched away from him and delivered the final blow.

That was the last time they'd actually talked without anyone observing, be it Toto, Vivian, another driver or even the media.

"Nico!"

He hums, head snapping up.

"Are you even listening?"

"Nope," he admits, taking another bite. Toto snorts, amused, but Jack is deeply offended. "I was talking to you!"

"I'm sorry, kid, I got a bit into my own head."

"It's fine," Susie promises, distracting her son with something Nico doesn't quite get. Toto squints at Nico, but doesn't say anything.

They finish breakfast before Toto announces today will be the first day at the factory for Nico. After bidding Susie and Jack goodbye, they head over to Toto's car for the short drive to the factory.

"They know you're coming, no need to make some kind of announcement. We'll announce you as my successor to the team, but only when everyone's back in the week before Zandvoort."

When the drivers are back, Nico assumes. George and Lewis get to enjoy their summer break while everyone else gets one week off and then they all regroup before the next race. It's always been like that.

"Any questions?"

He shakes his head, smiling at Toto. In all honesty, he's quite excited to get back to the factory after so long. And seeing everyone again will be nice, he assumes.

Of course, he's proven right. The staff who are in today are either new or familiar faces, but they're all delighted to have him at the factory. It's like coming home, and he revels in the familiar buzz of being in the Mercedes factory. 

Home sweet home.

                                          ❀❁

After the first two weeks, he's gotten the hang of it. Mostly, he sits in on meetings Toto has, listens to his phone calls, looks at his computer screens. He also offers his own input, corrects a few mistakes he spots while analysing data. By now he knows most of the team, and they get along splendidly, always happy to indulge in a quick chat about anything, and genuinely valuing his words.

He realises very soon that this is what he's been missing. Working with Sky was a good distraction, but he was always yearning for more, itching to get back into the garage. Now that he spends his days at the factory, he feels stressed in a good way, with all-too-familiar problems he can solve. It balances him a bit more.

Vivian's more than just triumphant when he tells her this. She's also delighted to hear that he's looking for a flat in Brackley again, that he has three he wants to check out this weekend. He's aware that he's proving her right with every single step he takes, but it's hard to feel annoyed about that when his shoulders feel so much lighter, his chest so much more free. It's a pleasant feeling, one he only experiences when he's around the girls these days.

By now he's even attended team dinner, and it was one of the greatest nights of the year. He hasn't felt so included in a long, long time, and Nico can feel his cheeks hurt from how much he smiled.

When he's decided on a flat and got more of his stuff from a quick trip to Monaco via the team jet, he realises just how happy he feels one night while sitting on the new couch in his new flat. He truly wasn't aware of how much he's missed Mercedes until he got the team back, and now that he's a part of the team again, he never wants to go back to how his life was before.

His life has a purpose, again.

Lewis Hamilton, Brackley, last week of summer break 2023

Lewis wakes up disoriented, still dazed from the dream he just had. If he were more spiritual rather than religious, he'd look for some interpretations of that dream. As it is, he just blames it on yesterday's call with his therapist. What other explanation could he offer for dreaming about killing Nico when they haven't had any real contact in years?

None, exactly.

So he gets up, takes a shower and moves to pick out an outfit for his return to the factory. Summer break was fun, relaxing, a good opportunity to recharge his batteries. He'd spent some time with his family, his friends, took lots of walks with Roscoe and just existed. It was nice.

Still, he can't wait to be back at the factory. Roscoe's coming with him today, and Lewis knows how much his dog loves the team. Every time they're in Brackley, Roscoe has the time of his life with how much they spoil him. They're simultaneously the worst and the best.

He packs a hair tie into his pocket but doesn't put his braids in a ponytail, grabs a bunch of toys for Roscoe and grabs his leash to walk to the factory with his dog.

Roscoe trots along happily, tail wagging lazily as if he knows he'll be spoiled to no end again today. It makes Lewis miss Angela, who, while she was the person spoiling Roscoe the most, she also took him away to do that on her own. It certainly helped keep the dog's ego in check. Now Roscoe thinks he's the most important creature in the factory, which he probably is, but Lewis isn't about to admit that to his face.

Of course, the second they enter the building, people fawn over Roscoe. Lewis undoes his leash and lets him walk around freely. He trusts that his colleagues will make sure he won't just run into the street, but with how much their attention is on the dog, it won't be a concern.

So he makes his way towards the assembly hall. Toto had demanded everyone's presence there at nine AM sharp, because he apparently has an important announcement to make. George is already seated when Lewis walks in, so he makes his way over to his teammate, settling a hand on his shoulder in greeting.

"Lewis, hi," George says, looking up at him. Lewis smiles, tightens his hand briefly and then lets go to sit down next to him. "Hey, Georgie," he winks, laughing at how his teammate glares at him for the nickname.

There's something about that boy that makes Lewis insanely protective of him. It might have to do with their age difference, but he thinks it's just because George wears his heart on his sleeve and Lewis knows how ruthless the sport is. He wants to make sure George has people in his corner, that Lewis will always be right behind him, ready to fight his battles should George want him to.

George rolls his eyes, but then launches into a detailed recounting of his summer holiday with Carmen. Lewis listens to him, making sure to hum at the right times to show he's paying attention, but a part of his mind is trying to figure out what Toto is about to announce.

Around them, crew members start filtering in, taking their seats after throwing them quick hellos. Soon enough, the entire team apart from Toto is in the room.

His teammate is still telling some story about Carmen and watermelons, but Lewis lost the plot a while ago. He's absentmindedly fiddling with his phone case now, still looking at George.

The door falls shut, and the happy chatter in the room stops immediately. Lewis almost snorts. It's quite unusual they actually shut up when meetings are about to begin, so it's kind of a surprise they did this time. But after all Toto did call them here, maybe everyone else is just as curious about this meeting as he is.

Toto walks to the front of the room under the watchful eyes of his employees. To Lewis, he looks normal, the same way he always does. No obvious changes.

"Thank you all for coming," he begins. "I have called you here to inform you of some upcoming changes. First of all, we have managed to fix the car's struggles, so we should be good for the second half of the season."

There's vague cheers and a few claps, but Toto keeps on talking. "Then, I would like to announce my retirement. I will no longer be Team Principal after Abu Dhabi. This will be my last season actively in F1, so let's make it a good one. Let's get these points for the constructor's."

Lewis looks over at George to gauge his reaction. His teammate's eyes are wide and he looks just as confused as Lewis feels, so Lewis knocks his knee into George's in some silent display of comfort. The other presses back against his touch.

People around them look much less surprised. Maybe they already knew? Before Lewis can ponder on it too much, Toto's already talking again.

"I have already found my successor. He'll be around for the next few months as my apprentice, so let's make him feel very welcome now. Ladies and gentlemen, Nico Rosberg!"

Lewis' phone slips from his fingers and drops to the floor. George bends down immediately to pick it back up, wordlessly offering it to Lewis, but he can't take it. His entire body is frozen in shock.

He almost doesn't realise the door's opened, so when it falls shut again, he flinches violently. George next to him nudges him, so Lewis presses his knee harder against his. The younger man still has Lewis' phone in his left hand, but Lewis' hands are still shaking a bit too much to take it. Instead, he folds his hands and lets them fall between his spread legs, trying to appear as relaxed as possible when a very familiar figure passes him.

His step is confident. His clothes look expensive. His shoes click on the floor, the watch on his wrist shines in the artificial light of the room. His hair is shorter, but still as blond as ever. Lewis wonders if it's still as soft as it used to be, if Nico still goes boneless when he threads his fingers into the strands and pulls, still- 

No. He can't think like that at his workplace, can't have entirely inappropriate thoughts in the middle of the Mercedes factory. Much less about Nico, of all people. Not about Nico, his ex-rival, his ex-teammate, his ex-best friend, his ex… something. He just can't.

So he does what he does best. He takes the emotions and ties them together closely, wrangles them into a ball and throws it into a bin. Then he lights that bin, watches as flames erupt all around it. The flames spark the all-too-familiar anger, and he holds tightly onto that emotion. It's almost comforting by now.

"You okay? You seem tense," George whispers, balancing his phone on Lewis' thigh now. Lewis raises the corner of his mouth. It's such an obvious attempt at getting him to relax his muscles to not let the device fall right back off. If he keeps up his ready-to-flee-stance, his phone will fall to the floor again, and he doesn't particularly fancy that, so he indulges George. The kid's cute, if he's honest. A bit obvious with his intentions at times, but his heart is pure and he wears it on his sleeve. Lewis appreciates his support, even if it seems clumsy.

"Yeah, all good," he murmurs back, unfolding his hands to hold his phone again. He presses back against George's knee once more, this time to reassure him. It is all good. There's no reason to get nervous in Nico's presence.

Still, he makes a mental note to shoot his therapist a text later, just as a precaution.

In the meantime, Nico's reached the front of the room and is now standing next to Toto, looking every bit like that's where he belongs. Lewis begrudgingly has to admit that he does. Mercedes has always been Nico's, it's only logical he'd come back now and take over when Toto leaves. Truly, it makes perfect sense.

But Lewis hates it.

"Hello everyone," Nico begins, smiling brightly at the Mercedes employees, looking every bit like the future team principal he is. Powerful, in control. With the attention of the entire team fixed on him.

"I'm very grateful for this opportunity. Formula One has always been my life, and I'm so happy I can be back at Mercedes. This team has been my team for almost my entire career, and being here again just feels right. I'm grateful I get to learn everything about how the team works in the next months, and I hope I'll be able to lead this team to great success the way we had the last years. Very excited to be working with all of you, and thank you for welcoming me into the team."

Lewis has to resist the temptation to roll his eyes. Nico's always been one for speeches. Lewis, too, actually, if he thinks about it. But their speeches are usually very different, and something about Nico's words rubs him the wrong way.

George next to him snorts. When Lewis raises an eyebrow at him, he elaborates, "Your face, mate, get a grip." Lewis decidedly does not elbow him in the side for his comment. He's 38 years old, he doesn't feel the need for such childish actions anymore.

Everyone's clapping, so he joins in, albeit very unenthusiastically. But he's nothing if not polite and professional, and he'll put on the show of his life if that's what it takes for him to win this battle, too.

After that, everyone goes about their days as usual. Lewis and George get changed into their racing suits to do some sim work, then compare their times and data and add a few ideas to the ever-growing list on the wall. But Toto was right, they were slightly faster than they were during the last races before the summer break, so both of them are quite enthusiastic for the second half of the season.

Nico Rosberg, Singapore, September 2023

In all honesty, the first few month of his so-called apprenticeship went by without any major events.

He's gotten the hang of everything by now, and he's finally part of a team again. 

For the most part, Lewis and himself had just avoided each other and only spoken when it was completely unavoidable. Even then, it was very tense and clipped and ended in whiny phone calls to Vivian every single time, Luisa cackling in the back.

He hasn't seen Alaïa and Naila in a while, but he FaceTimes his goddaughters regularly and writes them postcards from the Netherlands and Italy.

George and him have gotten closer, though. That might have to do with the fact that Lewis appears to be holding his teammate at arm's length for reasons nobody can fathom, and Nico has noticed how George sometimes looks at Lewis like all he wants is to make him proud. So he's taken to spending time with George and mentoring him a bit. When he's feeling good, he tells the younger man how to get on Lewis' nerves even more than he knows George already does, the way he's learned annoys Lewis, and the way his goddaughters torture their mothers.

So all in all, it's been a good month. He can't complain. The two races weren't horrible for the team, but they also could've gone a lot better.

Now, though, he's sure that they have a proper chance at getting a podium, potentially a double podium.

The pace is good, the drivers are motivated, and, most importantly, Red Bull is struggling. It's their big chance.

He’s glued to the screens the entire time, gaze shifting between the two drivers. Dividing his attention has always been one of his fortes, so that really comes in handy now.

They watch on as the cars gain place after place, as they get closer and closer to the two leading cars. It’s the most intense race Nico’s seen in a while.

Lando is within DRS reach to Carlos, George and Lewis hot on their heels. If they both start the overtake manoeuvre at the same time, they could theoretically win the race, they’re slightly faster than the McLaren and the Ferrari in front. But Lando’s defending Carlos, making it impossible for the Mercs to pass. Not that they tried properly. Nico feels the need to shout at them to grow some balls, but before he can demand access to the radio, George hits the wall.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

There goes the potential double podium.

Lewis, however, is on his way to P3, there’s nobody close enough to take it from him. Max and Charles have their own battle with a solid distance to Lewis still, so one car will definitely be on the podium.

Nico, inexplicably, feels pride swell in his chest. He knows he was proud when Lewis won his seventh championship, but never quite over a single race win. (He’s lying.) 

George’s voice sounds over the headphones, frustrated, disappointed and upset, but without injuries. He’s perfectly fine, just reasonably upset with his lost chance at having another podium.

The team principal next to Nico reassures George, offers words of comfort, and tells him someone will pick him up soon, he just has to wait for them to arrive.

During all of this, it comes as a surprise when the chequered flag comes into view. The team had missed the final lap, had missed Lewis crossing the line in P3. Nico hadn’t, but he knows the majority of the team’s still stuck on George’s crash. He throws Toto a quick glance, sees him staring intently at the screen, seemingly trying to find something in the data displayed.

Nico stays in his place for a while longer, waiting for the team to go down to Parc Fermé to celebrate Lewis’ podium. Nobody moves a muscle. He stares at them, expecting at least Lewis’ half of the garage to get a move on, but nobody even takes the headphones off.

With a scoff, he sets his headphones down, throwing another pointed glance at Toto. It goes unnoticed.

He grabs a team cap, settles it on his head and pulls it into his face, trying to stay unnoticed in the business of the paddock. 

If nobody’s going to be there, he will.

                                       ❀❁

By the time he makes it there, celebrations are already ongoing. Everyone’s happy, cheering, laughing. Nico sees Lewis get up from where he’s sitting on a curb, all alone, no Merc team member in sight. Yeah, that will stop when he’s team principal.

He tries catching Lewis’ eye, tries getting as close as possible without actually making his presence known. People aren’t supposed to know he’s there, but Lewis has to know he’s there. He can’t let Lewis think he’s unappreciated by the team they drove to glory, can’t let Lewis feel upset when he’s supposed to be celebrating his podium finish.

Unfortunately, the drivers leave before Nico managed to make eye contact with Lewis. He’ll have to try during the podium ceremony then.

Around him, excited McLaren and Ferrari crew members chatter in accented English, babbling all over each other.

It makes him smile, being close to that special atmosphere without the media duties looming above his head.

Nico shifts from one foot to the other, looking at the ground when he feels people’s eyes on him. Keep your face down, don’t look up, don’t let them see you. At that moment, he questions what he’s even doing there, whether he shouldn't just leave, go somewhere less crowded where people won’t see him.

But then the podium is announced, and Nico’s head snaps up. Lewis has a pinched expression on his face even though he’s clearly happy about his position, and it tugs at his heartstrings. Lewis is never supposed to look like that, never supposed to be sad when he should feel pure joy.

He lifts his head properly, looks up at the men standing on the podium, watches as the Spanish and Italian anthems are played, sees Carlos glowing with happiness, Lando radiant on one side of him, Lewis’ slightly dimmed smile on his other.

Lewis’ gaze searches the crowd, obviously trying to find at least one member from the team, and Nico’s glad for the cap he grabbed on his way out. It should be easier for Lewis to find him that way.

He keeps his position, looking at Lewis steadily, attention focused on the driver. The other’s eyes glide over him, then snap back right after. His expression slips for a second, eyes widening and mouth dropping open slightly before he gains control again and fits the perfect mask back in place. Still, he keeps looking at Nico, shock, disbelief and… thankfulness covering his features.

It drives tears to Nico’s eyes that he blinks away quickly. Now’s not the time to cry, thank you very much. They hold eye contact until all trophies are accepted, only break it when it’s time for the champagne spraying.

Nico’s insides are warm and his heart is happy. He tries pushing the love back down the way he usually does, but it’s utterly impossible this time around. The more he tries to bury the feelings, the stronger they come back right after, so he gives up and lets himself look at Lewis. He seems happier now, lighter, actually enjoying the celebrations, and Nico’s satisfied with himself for making the right decision for once.

The winners make their way back down from the podium, and Nico loses sight of Lewis. So he decides to go back to the garage before he actually is spotted attending the podium ceremony, hurrying off with his head down.

Once he reaches the garage, he’s met with Toto who raises an eyebrow at him.

“And where, pray tell, have you been?” His voice is a drawl, sounding lazy but at the same time every bit like the ruthless boss Nico knows he can be.

The Nico of ten years ago would’ve apologised. The Nico of today, the one who’s been through a lot of therapy, does the exact opposite.

“Doing what none of you thought necessary,” he snaps, his eyes thinned at the raised eyebrow on Toto’s face. “Risk being eaten alive by the media and fans?” Nico scoffs, definitely mad now.

“No, attending the podium ceremony when one of our drivers is on the fucking podium! This is a team, wins and podiums are supposed to be celebrated just as losses are supposed to be mourned!”

Toto looks put off, as if Nico’s personally insulted him. Maybe he has, but he quite frankly doesn’t care. “George crashed out of the race before he could get a podium. He needed the team’s support.”

That’s it. “So did Lewis! He didn’t crash but he drove that car to the podium! He had such a beautiful race and you can’t even acknowledge it because you’re too busy playing favourites, playing happy family with your golden child. Hello, your seven time world champion is right there!”

“Don’t talk about George like that, Rosberg.”

“I’ll talk about him like that because right now, it’s the truth. Toto, you know I like George, I appreciate him a lot. I think he’s a brilliant driver with a lot of potential. But, fucking hell, Wolff. Have some common sense and treat your drivers equally.”

The other man looks at Nico like he can’t believe what he’s saying. “Yeah? The same way you wanted me to treat you and Lewis equally? Do you want me to watch Lewis and George tear each other apart the way you two did? Do you think I can stand by and let that happen a second time?”

Nico’s one second away from snapping completely. Never has he ever despised Toto more than he does in that moment. 

“You bastard! How dare you? You want me to become team principal next season but you’re saying you don’t treat them equally because of me? How is that entire thing even supposed to work, then? How am I supposed to lead this team if it gets torn apart because of my past?”

“I didn’t say that,” Toto says, squirming slightly. Nico’s blood boils. “Yeah, you didn’t. It sure sounded like you meant it, though.” He sees Toto shake his head, but he keeps talking. “I want to do this, and I want to do it right. That means I treat both of them equally. I’ll be at the podium and I’ll comfort the driver who crashed out. It’s about balance, don’t you think? Appreciation and support for both drivers. That’s the only way it can work.”

It’s his own experience talking. He wishes it would have gone differently, sometimes, but he doesn't regret it. He could never regret his championship. Only the season.

He has every intention of being the team principal he would've needed back then. Toto was great, but he never quite succeeded at treating them equally, no matter what he says. He’d always favoured one of them, even if he doesn't admit it. The who had changed with the seasons, with the races, but he always had. Nico will never do that. He’ll treat his drivers equally and make sure to support both of them the way they deserve to. He’ll communicate.

“Mhm? You think that would work?”

Nico nods. He’s absolutely sure he’d manage to do it. He’ll succeed.

“Even if you’re in love with one of them? Can you treat them equally if you love one of them?”

His brain short-circuits.

“Torger, du gottverdammter evolutionsbremsender Hodenkobold-”

A hand slams over his mouth before he can finish whatever threat he was about to make. In the corner of his eye, he sees Mick doubled over in laughter, half-hidden between the screens.

Someone, he’s sure it’s Toto, drags him out of the garage and into a room, slamming the door shut behind them. He looks around, recognising it as Toto’s private office in the hospitality, close to the driver's rooms.

“Nico.”

Toto’s voice is much softer now, less cutting and attacking. Gentle.

He looks up at him, anger deflating. His shoulders hunch in defeat. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have insulted you, and I shouldn't have yelled at you like that.”

“Eh. Maybe you should’ve. You have a point.”

It’s silent for a while.

“I’m sorry for saying what I did. It wasn’t fair on you, Nico.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he agrees, “it’ll end in a phone call to Vivi, so don’t be surprised if you have three angry women yelling at you tonight. But maybe I needed to hear it.”

Toto’s quiet again before he opens his mouth. “Maybe. I definitely needed the reminder. Thank you, Nico. I’ve been a bit unfair. It comes with the job, I think. You can never please everyone when you’re team principal. Especially not when you make decisions during the race.”

“I know that, Toto. During the race and off the track are two different stories, though. You need to prioritise the driver with better pace and chances, I get that. I know that. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to support both of them, after. You would’ve kept prioritising George, and you would've been at his podium. Should've done the same for Lewis, mate.”

He’s met with a nod. “You’re right. That’s why I chose you to be my successor. You’ll be harsh, but fair. You’re made for this job, Nico.”

His lips lift into a tiny smile. “Maybe. I’ll do my best.” It doesn’t mean he’s forgiven Toto for holding his past against him, but he knows he most likely would've done the same. He can’t exactly blame the other man, if he’s honest. It stings nonetheless.

“I’ll go call Vivi,” he says, motioning about with his hands. “Debrief?” Toto questions. Nico facepalms. “Forgot,” he snorts, pocketing his phone again and instead making his way towards the meeting room.

Most of the team is already there, so he takes his seat next to Toto’s. The social media admins take their debrief pictures around him, making sure he can’t be seen in any of them. The surprise can’t be spoiled.

He sits through debrief, listens to congratulations and consolations, throws in a few thoughts he’s collected throughout the race. 

Once they finally call it a day, he has his phone in his hands again, ready to call Vivian on his way out. He’s interrupted by a call of his name.

Nico turns. He’s face to face with Lewis.

“Thank you,” the man says. He looks at Nico, eyes fixed on his face in that intense way of his. It sends butterflies flying through Nico’s stomach. Oh, no.

“You’re welcome,” he replies. It’s obvious what this is about. The podium. “Well done on the race. Congratulations, Lewis.”

He stays long enough to see Lewis’ responding smile, but he leaves before the other man can say anything else.

Time to call Vivian.

Nico Rosberg, Qatar, October 2023

They have high hopes for Qatar.

The cars look good, the pace is amazing, and the strategies almost promise at least one driver on the podium, most likely both, perhaps a win.

It’s insanely hot, though, and Nico worries for every driver competing today. The race will be utter hell.

Not that the races he’s attended so far were really good, even though the results are satisfactory. There were good elements (like Lewis’ podium in Singapore or Seb’s bee hotels in Suzuka) but it was never quite a weekend that they could actually celebrate.

Qatar has potential.

“It’s lights out and away we go!”

Nico’s eyes fix on the screen in front of him. He’s on Sky duties as well tonight, but he was with them before the race and will be there again after, he doesn't have to be present during the race. So he’s in the Merc garage, watching on as he always does these days.

Both drivers have an amazing start. Lewis’ is that tiny bit faster than George’s, but the younger man’s start is perfect as well. They’re up front with Max Verstappen almost immediately.

Lewis takes the outer line as they talked about in the pre-race strategy meeting, trying to get to P1 in the first corner. It looks good, he’s almost in front of Max, he’s almost there, he’s… skidding out into the gravel. Fuck.

Immediately, Bono asks if Lewis is okay. He is, but he sounds frustrated.

The screens show the replay of the crash. Lewis half in front of George, almost directly head to head with Max. Lewis and George somehow colliding slightly, sending Lewis completely off track and George along with him, except he doesn’t lose a wheel and can keep driving. He’s pretty much at the back of the grid now.

There goes their double podium.

Briefly, Nico sees pictures flash in front of his eyes, memories. He pushes them back down, focuses back on the screens in front of him.

George is fighting, trying to make up for the lost time and positions, trying to get back into the race. He has both the pace and the skills to get to the points, at least, but it’s incredibly unfortunate for him.

Just as Nico’s about to voice a sudden idea he’s just had that could benefit George, Lewis’ voice crackles through his headphones, speaking to the team over the radio.

“Got taken out by my own teammate.”

The pictures rise again. He pushes them down, down, down, tries to stay firmly in the garage, intently focused on George’s data and on-board visuals.

Racing down the straight, Lewis’ car in his vision, accelerate, full throttle, brake, into the corner…

“George is gaining,” Toto’s voice sounds. Nico looks at the screens, sees George overtaking another car, sees Lewis wandering around on another screen. He briefly wonders if Lewis knows he’ll get fined for crossing the track without permission.

Accelerate, full throttle, brake, into the corner, keep control of the car, c’mon Nico…

“Looks like they’re already struggling with the heat.”

Accelerate. Full throttle. Brake. Into the corner. Impact. Spinning off the track. Pebbles flying. Angry shouts.

“We’ll need to pit George sooner than we planned again, probably. And ask him about hydration.”

Impact. Spinning off the track. Pebbles. Angry shouts. “I fucking hate you!” Icy silence. Hands colliding with his shoulders. Lips moving against his harshly. “You ruined my fucking race, asshole!” Fingers digging into his hips. Bruises. Aching knees. Angry shouts. Toto yelling at them.

“Lewis should be here soon. We’ll watch the replays with him.”

Nico absentmindedly makes a few comments to Sky that they can broadcast, still staring at the screens.

Impact. Spinning off the track. Pebbles. Angry shouts. “I fucking hate you!” Icy silence. Tears. Shouts. Tears. Strained voices. Tears. Trembling hands. No air. 

“Shit, that's my fault. I have to tell them it’s my fault. I have to apologise to George. Hand me my phone?”

Impact. Spinning off the track. Headache. Angry shouts. Tears. Loud voices. “I fucking hate you! I wish I’d never signed that contract!” Tears. Begging. Tears. Tears. Tears.

“Got taken out by my own teammate.”

“My own fucking teammate betrayed me. I fucking hate you! I wish I’d never signed that contract!”

“That’s my fault. I have to apologise to George.”

‘I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you, I fucking hate you…’

Impact. Spinning off the track. Shouts. Tears. Tears. Tears. “I fucking hate you!” Tears. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe…

He tears the headphones off his head, drops them and runs. It doesn’t matter where to, just somewhere safe, somewhere without people, somewhere he doesn’t feel like the walls are closing in on him. Somewhere safe.

Somehow he ends up in front of a vaguely familiar looking door. He tries opening it, but it’s locked, it doesn’t open. Exhausted, he slides down next to the door and tucks himself into the small niche his back found by accident.

Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe need safety safety safety safety safety safety

Lewis Hamilton, Qatar, October 2023

He posts on Twitter. A story on Instagram. Nicks a pair of discarded headphones and talks to George briefly, just to apologise for blaming him when it was his fault, not George’s. The boy has to know.

Then he does his media duties quickly, still in his fireproofs. By the time he gets back, the race is about halfway over. He scans the garage quickly, pausing when he doesn’t see familiar blond hair amidst the engineers.

“Is Nico with Sky today?” 

Toto frowns at his question. “No, he’s with us, he’s somewhere around here?” Lewis shakes his head. “No, he’s not. He’s not here, Toto.” It’s odd, he thinks. Nico’s very dedicated to his jobs and his apprenticeship, he wouldn’t just disappear.

“Maybe he had to go to the toilet,” someone shrugs. Lewis nods, but worries his lip between his teeth. His stomach feels odd. Something isn't right.

“I’ll go change and then I’ll see if I find him.”

His boss looks at him like he wants to ask why he cares, but Lewis just shrugs. He doesn’t know. All he knows is Nico showed up for him in Singapore and something is wrong now. His instincts are screaming at him to find Nico, and for some reason he wants to give in and do exactly that.

So Toto sends him off with a warning to be back before the end of the race, and Lewis makes his way to his driver’s room to get changed.

When he’s typing in the code, he notices a figure tucked into the little niche between his and George’s driver’s rooms. They’re wearing a brown shirt, blond hair peeking out between their knees where their head is hidden- blond hair.

He unlocks the door with one hand, pushes it open, but tentatively crouches down next to Nico on the floor.

“Nico?”

There’s no response, but he can see Nico’s entire body trembling. It takes him back a decade, guiding a shivering Nico to his driver’s room to bundle him up in his arms until he’s calm again, hugging him close on the little couch to settle his breathing and heart rate.

Naively, he’d assumed Nico’s panic attacks had stopped after his retirement. It was a little dumb, especially considering Lewis himself sees a therapist for anxiety. He doesn’t get panic attacks, definitely not as bad as Nico does, but he’s familiar with the struggles anxiety puts you through. He’s also familiar with Nico’s, at least he used to be.

So he gives into the instincts, tugs Nico up and into his room, locking the door again so they’re not disturbed. He guides him to the couch, shoving him down and sinking to his knees in front of him, fingers wrapped around his.

It makes him yearn for another time, another life where they could’ve had this without years of unspoken words and bottled up emotions. Maybe not the mental health struggles either.

“You’re okay, Nico, I promise,” he coos, squeezing his hands. Comforting Nico comes naturally to him even if it maybe shouldn’t anymore.

He keeps up a steady string of comforting words, empty platitudes and gentle reassurances until the trembling subsides and the tension in Nico’s body seeps out of him. Lewis watches as the other man goes boneless and slumps forward, sliding off the couch directly into Lewis’ lap.

It startles him for a second, but his arms lock around Nico’s back on their own accord, holding him close.

Eventually, Nico relaxes against him fully, face tucked into his neck, and it warms something deep inside of Lewis.

“Better?” His voice is just above a whisper, still incredibly gentle, warm. He’s learned a lot since 2016.

Nico hums, wrapping his own arms around Lewis.

“Yeah. Better. Thank you.”

Lewis raises the corner of his mouth at that, pressing his face into Nico’s hair. It’s still as soft as ever, smells the same way it always did.

Suddenly, Nico goes rigid in his arms, sitting up straight. “Fuck! Shit! Lewis, I’m so sorry, shit, this shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry for this, just forget about it, thank you, I’ll go and get out of your hair now, sorry,” he rambles, shifting to get up. Lewis, still driven by some weird instinct to keep Nico close and safe, tightens his arms around him.

“Stay for a few minutes,” he whispers, looking up into Nico’s eyes. He doesn’t want to send Nico back out into the busy garage so shortly after such a bad panic attack, especially not when he’s mildly panicked again. Nico frowns, surprised, but nods hesitatingly and slowly relaxes again.

He leans back forward, laying his head on Lewis’ shoulder once more. Lewis’ fingers draw patterns onto his back, soothing.

They stay like that for a while until Lewis’ knees start aching and Nico’s fully relaxed. When they part, it’s without words and with many intense looks, communicating solely with their eyes.

Somehow, Lewis knows everything Nico wants to say, and he hopes Nico can read his replies in his eyes. He bites down on his tongue before the words can leave his mouth, though.

Nico slips out the room silently, and Lewis changes into proper clothes finally. He tugs at his braids, then ties them up again and leaves the room to rejoin the garage, ready to deal with the aftermath of this race.

It’s on the last five laps when he settles the headphones over his ears, listening to George and his engineer. George is back up in the points after an amazing drive, and Lewis’ heart swells with pride for his teammate. He’ll apologise properly after the race and make sure George knows how much he appreciates him. And maybe he’ll let the boy back in, he’s kept him on arm’s length for long enough and he misses his- the kid.

“People are fainting,” someone comments when the race is finally over. Lewis’ head snaps up, trying to figure out if people includes George as well. It doesn’t, but it does include George’s best friend. Looks like Lewis will have his hands full tonight trying to keep George from freaking out and checking on the younger drivers at the same time.

                                          ❀❁

It takes his teammate quite some time to get to them. Once he’s finished with everything and changed back into normal clothes and debrief is finally over (it was fairly short today because everyone is exhausted and Toto said they need sleep), Lewis tugs on George’s sleeve and pulls him with him. He’s kept tabs on everyone in the medical centre throughout the duration of debrief. Most drivers are discharged already so it’s useless going there, but he intends to take George to see Alex just to calm his nerves. And then he’ll be doing his own rounds, just very briefly.

George levels him with a confused stare, so Lewis explains while dragging him through the paddock.

“We’re going to Williams, the drivers were a bit unstable after the race and I figured you’d want to see Alex.” The grateful smile on his teammate’s face combined with the look of unfiltered appreciation tugs at his heartstrings. First Nico, now George… His teammates are really bad for his health, sometimes. 

“Thank you, Lewis,” George smiles. Lewis’ eyes soften when he smiles back at him, he knows they do. He takes that opportunity to get another thing out of the way.

“I’m sorry about the crash. And about what I said after. It was my fault, not yours, I’m sorry for blaming you.”

George looks at him, surprise etched onto his features. “You said that already. It’s all good, Lewis, we’re good.”

“I wanted to tell you again anyway. Can’t have you thinking I’m mad at you when I’m not. It’s my fault, so it’s my blame.”

The kid still looks so damn confused. Maybe Lewis fucked up more than he thought when he pushed George away out of annoyance at Nico and the budding relationship between his current and former teammate.

“Georgie.”

He watches on as George stops dead in his tracks, softening at the nickname he usually pretends to hate.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I’ve been a real asshole the past months. It’s been a bit difficult for me, having Nico so close constantly, and I didn’t want to take it out on you so I pushed you away a bit.”

It’s only half the truth, but how does one say I keep seeing you with my ex-something and it does things to me that I’ve never even addressed in therapy and I might maybe want a family and I might want it with him and I might love you like my kid without sounding completely insane and sending his teammate running? There’s no way he can, so he doesn’t.

“It wasn’t fair on you, I know that, and I’m very sorry. But… I’ve got your back, Georgie. Always.”

It's as close to love you, kid as he’s willing to say. He’s a very affectionate person, but not-dating Nico brought up a cautiousness inside him that’s hard to get rid of, the fear of ruining things if he admits to loving someone in whichever way.

George’s bambi eyes look suspiciously wet, so Lewis huffs out a laugh and tugs him down to hug him. He settles a hand in George’s hair when the younger man bends down to push his face into the crook of his neck, carding through the messy strands. “Thank you, Lewis,” his teammate whispers. He squeezes him tighter for a second, then lets go of him when George straightens his back again.

“We’re okay?”

“Yeah, Georgie, we’re okay. Come to my room later if you want to, I’ve got ice cream in the freezer.”

He always has ice cream when they’re racing in hot weather. He has it for the rest of the races as well, but then it’s only vegan ice cream. For the hotter ones he makes sure to buy non-vegan ice cream as well, in case George drops by after the race. They do that sometimes, sit in his hotel room and eat ice cream. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes he braids George’s hair, sometimes he puts a face mask on him. It’s usually when Carmen doesn’t attend a race, because he knows no matter how well George did, he still won’t be satisfied. George has convinced himself he needs to deliver perfect results for the team no matter how many times they try to convince him he’s allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. He likes to make sure someone’s there to pull him out of his head.

They keep walking to the Williams hospitality so George can check on Alex, but Lewis doesn’t come with him. Instead, he checks on Logan, who’s fast asleep on a couch in the corner of the lounge room in the hospitality.

Then he makes his way through the paddock, checking on his fellow drivers while slowly going towards the exit to get back to the hotel.

By the time he reaches his room, he’s exhausted. Which is saying something considering he hasn’t raced a full lap. 

He gets changed into sweats and a t-shirt quickly, collapsing onto the bed. Then he checks his phone, replies to a bunch of messages and scrolls through Twitter. People are rioting, saying the race shouldn't have taken place, that it was too dangerous. He busies himself by reading through his entire timeline to stay awake in case George wants to drop by his room.

After a bit over an hour, there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, he’s glad he’s still awake and goes to open it.

“Can I have ice cream?”

George looks exhausted. His face is pretty flushed and his hair looks sweaty even though Lewis knows he took a shower before leaving the hospitality. He pulls his teammate inside the room and towards the couch, then forces him to sit down and places a hand on his forehead.

“You’re burning up, Georgie,” he murmurs gently, trying not to spook him. When they were still at the paddock, George was fine, but it seems like the heat and the exhaustion from the race have caught up to him now. 

His teammate just hums, letting his head fall forwards. It rests against Lewis’ stomach, and he lets him stay like that for a while, lightly massaging his scalp.

“Ice cream?” George asks after a while, and Lewis snorts. “Yeah, sure, ice cream,” he agrees. “But move over to the bed. Shoes off!” The younger man goes easily, settling himself on one side of Lewis’ admittedly huge bed.

Lewis gets the ice cream from the freezer and finds two spoons near the mini bar, then sits down on the bed next to George. He hands him one cup, keeping his own for himself.

They eat bites of ice cream in silence until George’s head drops to his shoulder. “You okay?” He doesn’t feel quite as warm anymore, so Lewis thinks he’s actually just been in the heat for two long. The nod against his shoulder is sluggish. It makes the decision really easy for him.

“C’mon, go to sleep. I’ll keep an eye on your temperature,” he says, patting his teammate’s knee.

George agrees without any real resistance, laying down on the bed. Lewis keeps sitting beside him, playing with the blond locks until George is fast asleep.

He feels his forehead one last time and decides to go to sleep himself.

It’s been a long day.

Nico Rosberg, Abu Dhabi, November 2023

The past month was one of the most stressful months of Nico’s life.

He’s pretty sure he hasn’t been quite so stressed since his own championship season, and that says quite something.

With Lewis’ P2 in both Austin and Mexico the expectations for São Paulo were insanely high. Everyone was expecting Lewis to deliver, especially after his disqualification in Austin since it’s common knowledge he delivers even better when he’s on a revenge mission.

But the Interlagos Grand Prix was a complete shit show. They were forced to make George retire to keep him safe, and Lewis kept losing positions. It was completely horrible. Debrief after that race was absolutely awful as well. Nico remembers their own debriefs all too well, and that debrief was a little too similar to theirs back in the day for his comfort. George, who was understandably upset, had yelled at Toto, Lewis and the entire team for not letting him overtake Lewis, and then went on a rant about being forced to retire. Lewis was just mad his home race didn’t go the way they’d hoped it would. The engineers were disappointed, and the mechanics were tired. Nico kept trying to disappear, but George forced him into the fight, and he didn’t have a choice but to wash everyone’s heads, even if it got him a reprimand from Toto afterwards.

It worked.

Las Vegas was better if they only looked at the race.

Lewis didn’t get into Q3, and he had a little incident with Oscar Piastri, but he kept overtaking and brought some valuable points to the team. George drove very well, but got a penalty that cost him a little. 

It’s another weekend they’d probably rather forget, but it is what it is. They only have one more week until they can bin the W14.

Nico had stayed in Las Vegas for another day for his event, and then flew over to the UAE directly after.

Now, he’s in his hotel room waiting for the team to announce Toto’s retirement. It’s Thursday, mere hours before media day starts, and they’ve decided to make the announcement today. That way, they can properly celebrate his last GP as their team principal. Still, they won’t announce who his successor is just yet. That will come at the beginning of December, once the last race is over, so that the vultures of the media can’t pounce on the drivers to torture them with questions about Nico, and, even worse, the 2016 season. It’s inevitable, and they don’t want that on a race weekend. It would definitely be too distracting, so they’ll wait.

The time after the announcement will be chaotic enough already. 

He refreshes his feed again. 

mercedesamgf1 We are sad to announce that our Team Principal Toto Wolff has decided to retire after the final race of this season. He will keep his position as owner and CEO of the team, but will not accompany us on more than three races a season as he chooses to focus on his son and wife. We thank Toto for bringing the team to the top and giving us everything. #ThankYouToto

Nico likes the post, then opens the comments to see Lewis, George and even Valtteri have already commented on it.

       lewishamilton 🫶🏾 #ThankYouToto

       georgerussell63 #ThankYouToto

He adds a comment himself.

       nicorosberg #ThankYouToto for everything 

His feed refreshes automatically, bringing Lewis’ goodbye post to Toto to the top of his page. It’s a series of pictures. The first shows Lewis and Toto, laughing together, Lewis in his race suit and pearls of champagne drops shining in his braids. The next is of the two of them with Susie and Jack, the entire team, Lewis with Toto and George, with Valtteri, in the factory, in front of all the trophies, celebrating, in Silverstone. Shockingly, the last picture shows Lewis and Toto, arm in arm, Nico next to Toto with the man’s arm over his shoulders. All of them are smiling, wearing team shirts. It was taken at the beginning of Lewis’ first season with the team, and Nico’s heart sings in his chest.

lewishamilton Toto, I write this with a smile on my face, a heavy heart and over a decade worth of memories with me. Retirement is always bittersweet, as are goodbyes, and neither get easier. You’ve been present for most of my Formula One career, and to imagine a future without you as my team principal seems near impossible. You’ve given me so much, supported me every step of the way and never failed to push me to be the best version of myself. I owe you a lot, and I’ll be eternally grateful for everything you’ve given me. You’re more than just my boss, you’re a supporter, a team member, but above all of this, you’re a friend. At every step of the way, you were there, during the good and the bad, and I’ll always look back on our time together fondly. With everything I have, #ThankYouToto, and I wish you an enjoyable retirement. Go raise a champion.

Inexplicably, Nico is close to tears.

He’d known Toto’s retirement was bound to make him emotional, but he hadn’t quite expected just how emotional he’d get over this. (And then there’s that tiny part of him that wishes he’d gotten the same treatment from Lewis after his own retirement. It’s just a tiny part, but it’s enough to tie his insides together and leave his heart with a new cut.)

Nico chooses one of his and Toto’s older selfies and posts it to his story with the hashtag #ThankYouToto. He doesn’t have it in himself to put together a whole post the way Lewis did, he feels way too emotionally frayed to be able to do their history justice. It will have to be enough.

As advised (read: forced) by Vivian and Luisa, he stays away from Social Media for the most part. The two of them send him screenshots of a bunch of reactions, as well as summaries of what drivers, former drivers and other parts of the paddock have to say about Toto’s retirement, but he doesn’t come online to look for them himself. Even though he desperately wants to, he listens to his therapist and close friends.

And if he pays extra attention to how he looks before he goes to the retirement party, neither of them have to know.

                                          ❀❁

However, when he reaches the party, he’s insanely glad for his decision. Lewis looks attractive beyond words, and Nico’s grateful for his inexplicable urge to doll himself up earlier. They seem to have made their peace, even if they haven’t talked, but the last few races were almost amicable. Nobody can blame him for trying to look nice when there’s a chance he’ll talk to Lewis.

Said chance arrived when he’s about three drinks into the evening. Lewis leans against the table next to him, looking calm and ethereal in the golden light of the club.

“Hiya, Nico,” he says, and Nico almost jumps. He’d kind of assumed Lewis was just tired and wanted a bit of a breather, not a conversation.

“Hi, Lewis,” he replies, a second too late. Lewis lets it slide, doesn’t comment on it, instead offers him one of the two glasses he’s holding.

Nico takes it with an appreciative smile, subtly eyeing Lewis up and down. Lewis seems to notice, judging by how he smirks at Nico while his own eyes glide down Nico’s body and then back up to his face, smirk broadening. The blonde swallows, then raises his glass to toast to Lewis.

“To the end of the season,” he says. The driver smirks even wider, the glint in his eyes turning mischievous. “To the burning of the W14.” He clinks his glass against Nico’s, then takes a sip while maintaining eye contact. Tease.

Nico laughs. “You saw the posts on Twitter as well?” He watches Lewis’ eyes shine as he replies, “Yeah, man, they’re proper funny. You should see the edits they make with that car.” Nico has actually seen the photos Lewis is referring to, but he doesn’t feel like admitting that. Instead, he takes a sip of his drink. Its taste is rich, slightly burned, pleasant, like…

“Lewis, did you bring your own drink to the club?”

His favourite eyes sparkle before Lewis bursts into laughter, crinkles around his eyes lighting his entire face up.

“Why d’you know what it tastes like?” Nico rolls his eyes, “Because I have it at home, obviously.” Lewis’ face scrunches up in surprise before he gets his features back under control. “You do?” 

“Yeah, I do. I like it, it’s close to tequila taste-wise but safe to drink before driving. Good stuff.”

He can’t quite read Lewis’ expression, but his eyes soften considerably and Nico feels something long-buried stir in his stomach.

“Yeah? That’s good, then,” Lewis murmurs, stepping closer to Nico. “I brought it here to get you a taste, but it seems that wasn’t necessary.” Nico smirks. “Should’ve known I’m always your number one fan, Hamilton.” Somehow, Lewis is even closer to him than he was just a second ago.

“Is that so?”

Nico hums, eyes fixed on Lewis’ face. “You’ve heard how I praise you.” Lewis nods, setting his glass down on the table next to them. “I have. I’ve also had proper tequila before coming here, can’t have a celebration and not get at least tipsy.”

It’s an answer to Nico’s unasked question, and it’s a testimony of how well they still know each other, despite everything that’s happened.

“Can’t celebrate P3 in the championship, Toto’s final race and the last race with your enemy car without alcohol?”

Lewis takes another step further, hand coming up to Nico’s shoulder. “Can’t do this without alcohol for confidence.” Before Nico can question him, Lewis has already silenced him with his lips, kissing him desperately, feverishly, like he’s always done except completely different.

Nico’s left hand reaches for Lewis’ jaw on instinct, cradling his cheek. In return, Lewis grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls. As always, Nico’s mouth opens in a quiet moan, the type only Lewis can get out of him. In the brief second they’re not kissing he can see Lewis’ self-satisfied smirk, before his tongue is in Nico’s mouth again and every smart comment leaves his brain. The only logical thought he can form is Lewis.

His other arm goes around Lewis’ neck, keeping him close without dropping the glass that somehow is still in his hand.

Embarrassingly, he’s already hard, caged between Lewis’ body and the table. The fingers in his hair comb through the strands for a second before they tighten and pull harder, and Nico bites Lewis’ lip in return. It earns him a surprised sound and an even more enthusiastic tug at his hair.

Their lips are wet when they part, saliva connecting them as they stand together for a few seconds before they’re kissing again.

Nico loses all sense of time. All he knows is Lewis’ fingers in his hair, the feeling of Lewis’ beard under his palms and his lips against his own.

Suddenly, Lewis breaks away from him, frowns for a second before he turns and leaves. Nico reaches out for him, but as dazed as he is from the impromptu make-out session, he’s not nearly fast enough to make it to Lewis in time.

Instead, he brings the almost full glass to his lips and downs its content before he sets it down next to Lewis’. Without looking back, he makes a beeline for the bar, ordering pure vodka to get rid of the lingering taste of Almave and Lewis’ lips.

He doesn’t see Lewis for the rest of the night.

Nico Rosberg, Brackley, December 2023

They postponed the announcement.

It was supposed to be made public on the fourth of December, so that Lewis could ease the public’s worries when the inevitable questions arise during the FIA award ceremony and its press conference. Instead, they had to deal with a completely different kind of public attention, and Nico, on one of his first days as Mercedes’ team principal, spent his time in the legal department, looking for ways to sue the FIA for defamation of the team and its former team principal without bringing any unnecessary attention to Mercedes.

And when they finally figure out what to do, after the FIA dropped their useless investigation, Lewis causes a new mess. 

Nico’s almost convinced he did it to fuck with him, if he didn’t know how close Lewis and the Wolffs are. 

And it’s not just the chaos that was the FIA award ceremony. If only Lewis had simply attended the interviews in a tracksuit, insulted the FIA (Nico won’t comment on that one, he’d have done the same) and subtly flipped the organisation off during his time on stage.

No, he also gave away his trophy as a way to get under the FIA’s skin. Nico burst out laughing when he saw that, earning himself confused looks from every person in the room.

“It’s such a Lewis thing to do,” he defends himself, but decided to spare him potential fines by making up an excuse Mercedes can post in a statement. He texts Toto.

< Why didn’t you tell me how ridiculous the job is I would’ve declined? 

The reply comes instantly.

> Book another therapy session. He’s liking stuff on Twitter.

Decidedly not an answer to his question, but it does give him even more work. Delightful.

< I wanted to win another championship not become a PR merchant?

> You worked as a commentator.

< Arschloch.

Toto really isn’t helpful. With a sigh, Nico opens Twitter on his huge screen, searching for Lewis’ account.

He calls the legal department the second he sees the most recent three tweets Lewis liked.

@hamlecton calling susie wolff, f1 academy’s leader, toto wolff’s wife is bold when the man is her stay-at-home-husband

@roscoe8wdc lewis really said fuck the fia i’m yelling

@almavetequila we really got lewis on pole, lewis dnf, lewis dsq, lewis bringing out a non-alcoholic alcohol, lewis calling the w14 shit and lewis vs the fia pt 2 all in one year. what’s next, nico rosberg in the mercedes garage in 2024?

Needless to say, the announcement gets pushed back another few days.

Nico also decides against calling Lewis. They do nothing about the liking spree he went on except to steal Ferrari’s tactic; posting pictures of Lewis on their social media accounts.

He’s been on the job for a week and he’s already seen it all.

Lewis Hamilton, Colorado, mid-December 2023

Winter break, at least after the FIA gala, is very relaxing. He’s in his house in Colorado, enjoying nature and quietness without the worries of the upcoming season looming above him. It’s still multiple weeks until he has to go back to Brackley, so he can actually relax for once.

He visited the factory in the time between the end of the season and the gala, taking final pictures with Toto as TP and chatting to the team, but he won’t be expected back until late January.

As far as he knows, Toto’s in Monaco now, enjoying some family time with Susie and Jack, whereas Nico is in the factory.

With a shake of his head, he pushes Nico out of his thoughts forcefully. After that kiss in Abu Dhabi, which already wasn’t his smartest choice simply due to the country it happened in, he’s been monopolising his thoughts, occupying his mind more or less nonstop.

After Qatar, which he still can’t explain even to himself, their tense relationship smoothed over, making way for professional communication and amicable smalltalk. But Abu Dhabi screwed that progress right back over.

The realisation that he’s still very much in love with Nico came on the plane from Dubai to the UK, forcing him to book another therapy session. And his therapist basically told him to embrace that feeling, to let things happen naturally, at their own pace. To put himself first, but to listen to Nico and actually pay attention. To be open-minded. And to maybe go back to some of his older habits, just in a more healthy way. Apparently, that’s also supposed to help for the 2024 season. Villain era, Twitter calls it. He likes the sound of it.

So when the announcement finally comes, Lewis likes the post, then spends the entire day reading reactions online.

mercedesamgf1 We are delighted to announce that our former driver and 2016 world champion, Nico Rosberg, is set to make his return to Formula One with our team. As per our former Team Principal’s request, Nico will assume his new job as the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team Principal effective immediately. He has been learning under Toto for the past few months. We can’t wait to see him work his magic. #WelcomeNico

He does refrain from commenting under the post, and also manages to resist the temptation of texting Nico ‘been working illegally for two weeks, huh?’ for his own good. The social media world of F1 fans is a huge mess, however.

@nicoscurry uhm @almavetequila how tf did u know

|

@almavetequila I SWEAR I DIDN’T I WAS JUST MESSING AROUND WTFFFFF

@lecfosamilton ARE WE READY TO GET LEWIS HIS 8TH???

@pierrescamera wtfdym we’re gonna see brocedes on one team again???

@totoisdaddy so mr toto wolff retired and made a former driver his successor? we’ve fallen so far

@dailydosebrocedes i think i’m actually gonna faint how am i meant to survive

@63albons WE ARE SO BACK 🔥🔥🔥

@nicogoatsberg the guy who beat lewis hamilton in equal machinery is coming back to make sure we’re beating everyone no matter the machinery i know who my goat is

@brocedeslover BROCEDES???? IN 2024??? IS THIS REAL???? 

In all honesty, he can see himself in all of the above, except he’s actually convinced having Nico as the team principal will be good for the team. He knows Nico, he knows how authorative he can be (and how good at following instru- no, Lewis, just no) and how much he values every single opinion. It’s because of this knowledge that he has full faith in Nico for the upcoming season. Some might think it’s strange for him to trust him so blindly, considering everything that went down, but to Lewis, it’s natural. He trusts Nico blindly, unconditionally when it comes to racing. (He might be willing to trust him again outside of racing as well, but he’s not willing to address that with Nico just yet. Maybe not ever.) The season will be good for the team. He’s absolutely convinced.

So he turns off his phone and calls for Roscoe, taking his dog out for a walk through the fresh snow. It glistens so prettily on top of the trees, and Roscoe’s little paw prints in the white fields make his heart sing.

In Colorado, after a stressful season in every aspect possible, Lewis finds peace.

Nico Rosberg, Brackley, early January 2024

Saying goodbye to the girls wasn’t easy.

It’s even worse than it was in 2023, somehow, because Nico actually feels happy to leave Monaco, and he feels incredibly guilty for it. He’s always felt slightly bad leaving them, but this time, he’s very excited to get back to Brackley. The car is basically finished, and they’ll properly start simulations to see if the car truly is as promising as their calculations promise.

So telling Alaïa and Naila goodbye wasn’t easy, because he almost broke down in Vivi’s arms later from how guilty he felt about his excitement. Vivian’s girlfriend, the psychology obsessed woman that she is, lectured him about it for almost five minutes, so by the time he left the building, the guilt was already replaced by annoyance. Luisa and Vivian just waved at him, the girls next to them, and he waved back with a sweet smile at his goddaughters.

Once he steps foot into the factory, Toto corners him. He wasn’t even aware the man was back in Brackley, had assumed he was still in Monaco considering Christmas break ended just today, but the CEO is in the factory. Nico suspects he has ulterior motives.

Of course, his suspicions are proven right when he’s dragged into Toto’s office. “Nico,” the man starts sweetly. That tone of voice never promises anything good. “Toto,” he gives back, letting his exasperation bleed into his voice.

“You’re a racing driver.” Nico shakes his head. “I’m a team principal,” he corrects. The youngest TP, at that, and certainly the best looking, if he says so himself. “You’re a racing driver,” Toto corrects, seemingly unbothered, “and I’d like for you to drive the sim car for the first sim test drive.”

Nico gapes.

That was decidedly not what he was expecting. He wasn’t prepared for that kind of demand. He was equipped for criticism, for questions about Lewis (they haven’t talked since Abu Dhabi), remarks about Christmas, questions about the season. Not to be asked to drive.

“I said I wouldn’t drive an F1 car again.”

Toto snorts. “Of course, you wouldn’t be driving the car, you’d be doing a simulation. The car goes to the testing drivers and Lewis and George. You’d just do a few simulation laps, get a feeling of the car and tell the engineers all about the things that feel off to you. We built some of our best cars around you and Lewis, after all, you’re pretty similar. I think that might get us the winning car.”

Yeah. Nico kinda forgot how manipulative the man could be. “Is that even legal? Toto, I’m the team principal, I don’t think I’m supposed to drive the car. What if it gets us into trouble? If it gets out and the FIA decides to investigate us for unfair advantages? For not playing fair?” Toto clicks his tongue. “Nico, calm down. I’m still CEO of this team, I’d shoulder the blame if they decided to do that, but I don’t think they would. We could even post about it, ensure nobody can say we’re going behind their back, if it calms your mind. But I truly think it’d be an advantage for us.”

He bites his lip, pondering. There are serious concerns in his head, doubts that plague his mind, worries that can’t just be eliminated.

“Nico,” Toto’s voice snaps him out of his spiral, “I wouldn’t ask if I thought it’d put us in danger in any way. We’ve had enough of the FIA already. It doesn’t say Team Principals aren’t allowed to do simulations. I know you’ve studied the rules, you know them blindly. Nico, I wouldn’t ask anything that risks your position.”

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “I’d love to, but I’m not sure…”

Toto sighs, then pulls out his phone, taps around on the screen and presses it to his near. Nico watches on in confusion. “Hey, man,” Toto says, cutting the other one off before they properly got a word in, “I asked Nico about the simulations and he’s not sure. Talk to him.”

Nico’s jaw drops again. He’d assume it’s Susie, but Toto said hey, man so it can’t be his wife, and a decade ago he’d have assumed it’s Niki, but it can’t be, and he doubts Mick Schumacher would be asked to talk Nico into something. George, maybe, Nico can’t resist his bambi eyes, but he obviously can’t see them in a phone call, so that's unlikely. Which leaves…

“Hey, Rosberg,” his voice crickles though the speaker. Nico takes the phone from Toto’s hand with a glare and presses it to his ear. “Hey yourself,” he gives back, then has to clear his throat when his voice comes out scratchy. Toto smirks, so Nico flips him off. He hasn’t talked to Lewis in over a month, how does Toto think this is a good idea?

“I hear you’re making life difficult for yourself again.” Oh, the audacity of this man. His voice is sweet, almost soothing, and if Nico didn’t know any better, he’d say he sounds loving. But he knows Lewis, knows he’s just being teased. “Don’t want to jeopardise my position in the team already because I get back into the car.”

Lewis laughs on the other end. “You’re not getting into the car, mate, just the sim. It’s different. Look, Mick, Fred, George, I, we all do the same thing. You get the chance to do it first. Take it, man. You’re a fantastic driver and it'd be such a pity to miss out on everything you could offer us. Just think about it, okay? We’d all appreciate it so much.”

“It was his idea,” Toto puts in. Nico’s world comes to a halt, tilts in its axis and then readjusts. Lewis wants him to run simulations?

“I’m just not sure,” he tells Lewis, the same way he told Toto earlier. “I know you’re not. I know you, Nico. You always overthink everything and by the time you’re done thinking, you already regret not moving earlier. You deny yourself because you’re always thinking. Just let yourself live a bit, get back to doing what you love without ruining it for yourself.” “How did this turn into a therapy session,” he grumbles. Lewis laughs again, and it’s the sweetest sound Nico’s ever heard. How he loves that laugh.

“Nico,” Lewis says, voice impossibly gentle. As if he never ran away, that night in Abu Dhabi, as if he were holding Nico's face between his palms, as if he just kissed his forehead. “You’re allowed to.” 

He turns away from Toto, doesn’t want to look at the man while Lewis strips him bare with just his words. That’s a power Lewis has always possessed and apparently will always possess.

“I’m just scared I won’t want to stop. That I’ll miss it more than before. That it will be impossible to leave again.”

Lewis makes a sound in the back of his throat, low and soothing. “You don't have to, lo- Nico. We just thought it’d be good for the team, and for you too. Of course, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he whispers, an admission he didn’t want to give. “I know you do,” Lewis says. It sounds like he’s smiling. “Do what your heart’s telling you, okay? If you want to do it, get in the sim. If not, don’t and stare at the data while Mick or Fred do. Maybe I’ll come to Brackley earlier and do it myself, I’m getting bored anyway. Can you believe nobody will let me jump out of a plane again? I’m not even allowed to go out for a ski trip,” he complains, definitely pouting in an exaggerated way. It’s supposed to distract him, and it works. Ridiculous.

“Yeah, I can believe that, actually.” Lewis gasps. “Nico! Is that your fault?” He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, I’d never do that to you. But I can believe it, because the decision was run by me before they informed you. It’s for your safety, Lewis. If you’re so bored, go and draw a picture or something, or go on a walk with Roscoe. I’ll go and do a sim lap.”

He hears Lewis cheering, Roscoe barking, and can feel Toto’s triumphant stare and smirk, so he turns to glare at him. “Yes! Enjoy! Call me after and tell me about it, yeah?” He agrees, then hangs up to hand the phone back to Toto.

“Not a single word, Torger. Not a single one.”

Toto, thank god, actually listens to Nico for once and keeps his mouth shut. His smug look is more than enough to get Nico to roll his eyes, but at least he isn’t insufferable about being right, or, even worse, about the conversation he’s just witnessed. The conversation that will be re-told for Vivian later, for her and Luisa to analyse, and then again to his therapist to get an additional opinion. The more time he spends in F1 the more his therapy sessions are about Lewis. It should definitely be forbidden, in his opinion. But alas, he’s hopelessly in love with one of his drivers. Putting it like that makes him realise how morally grey that is, how weird it sounds. He knows that as long as Lewis still drives, he shouldn’t act on it even if he had the chance to. Workplace etiquette and all that. But oh, he wants to.

Nico goes to his own office to change into clothes more suitable for sim racing. When he goes back out, Mick is standing in front of his door, pouncing as soon as the door is open. “Nico! Toto told me you’ll sim race? That’s awesome, dude! I’ll come and watch, is that alright?” Nico smiles at him, nodding. “Sure it is. I take it everything is ready then?”

The kid nods, practically bouncing on his feet. They walk over to the sim room, chatting about their respective holidays. Once inside the room, Nico can feel his nervousness rising again. Maybe this was a mistake? Before he can overthink too much, he’s already pushed into the seat. Immediately, he feels a familiar calmness settle over him. The long-forgotten laser-focus of an F1 driver forces him to concentrate solely on driving, getting a feeling of the car, filing away complaints and feedback for later, taking note of where improvement is needed.

                                        ❀❁

Time passes, but all Nico knows is the circuit, the motions of driving and the responsiveness of the car. Or at least the simulator. When a hand settles on his shoulder, he startles. Toto’s looking down at him, a satisfied smirk on his lips. Nico saves his most recent lap time, then stays seated for another minute before he gets up and rolls his shoulders, shaking off the driver focus in favour of getting back to analysing, to team principal Nico. “Everyone, with me. I’ve got feedback.” Toto’s smirk widens at his words, and Mick looks even more like an excited puppy. It almost makes him laugh, but he’s also very excited to feed the ideas back to the team, so he can’t judge either of them. Screw Lewis and Toto for being right.

There’s a few things in life that Nico truly hates. Losing is at the top of that list, but not being right and instead being proven wrong by people close to him who’ll be all smug about it is a close second. 

Still mildly high on the thrill of driving again, even if it’s just the sim car, he assembles the attending team around him and brings up the data from his laps on one screen, the design and data of the new car on the other.

“Okay, so in general, great job, team. Now, I haven’t felt the W14, but simply based on the data I’d say the car is lots better than last year. It’s no W11, and it’s not my championship car either, but I’d say it’s pretty similar to the 2015 and 2017 cars. That’s good! We can get somewhere with this. There’s just a few things I’d like adjusted, and I’m gonna show you exactly what I mean, and then Mick and Fred will do their sim laps to get more opinions in. Look, the pace on the straights is quite good, but we can get it up another notch if we just adjust this right here,” he points to the screen, outlining what he has in mind, “and then there’s a bunch of corners where the car is way too understeer-prone. We need to balance that a bit better, and we need to eliminate the danger of lockups when a long straight turns into a corner, but apart from that, it’s a competitive car. Great job everyone!”

The engineers seem delighted at the praise, and Nico makes a mental note to highlight their hard work in the media as well. If the season goes as well as his data shows, he’ll have more than just enough opportunities to show off his great team on the podium. Truly, he can’t wait for the thrill of adrenaline, of pure euphoria, the pride he’ll feel looking up at his drivers and at his team around him. Because he’ll attend every podium ceremony, he’ll be in the first row, in the drivers’ line of sight. Without any offence to Toto, he’ll make sure the entire team knows just how appreciated their hard work is. He knows how shitty it is to feel underappreciated, and even then, it wasn’t the team’s fault. Not really. But he’ll try his hardest to make sure neither of his drivers will ever feel that way.

Later that day, once both Mick and Fred fed the computers even more data to analyse and use, he still doesn’t regret today’s words. The car does look very competitive, and while he doesn’t know how the other cars look, especially Red Bull and, unfortunately, Ferrari and McLaren, he’s pretty hopeful for the season. At the very least it’ll be better than the last.

He tells Lewis as much when he keeps up his promise of telling him about the sim racing he did.

< All feels good so far. Data looks promising. Kids were doing really well, got some good laps in. Can’t wait to see the kind of magic you and George will work with the car. It was very fun, thanks.

And then, before he can do something truly stupid, he locks his phone, tosses it onto the passenger seat and starts his car to go back to his flat. After a few months of living in Brackley part-time, the place is starting to look like a home someone actually lives in rather than just an apartment with furniture. It has pictures of his friends and family spread over the walls, paintings adorning the living room wall, silly pieces of decoration gifted to him by the women in his life, and all the things his goddaughters gave to him to make his flat look prettier. In his opinion, they truly did a great job and should at least consider a career in interior design. He’ll remind them of it once they’re older and start thinking about their future beyond the next princess party or elementary school homework. 

By the time he finished washing the dishes, he has a reply from Lewis. He decidedly ignores the jump his heart does upon reading the name on his screen.

> if you get my hopes up too high it’ll blow up in your face when the car isn’t all that. Seriously though, glad to hear. And you’re welcome, Nico. Good to see you experience joy.

It’s phrased in a way only Lewis does. Still, Nico doesn’t know what to reply to this, doesn’t want to acknowledge the way his heart feels much warmer after reading these words, so he just reacts to the message with a heart and turns in for the night,a lot earlier than he usually would, but the day was very eventful and the temptation to text again is too high for him to stay awake. So he sleeps, and if he dreams of brown eyes, curls, laughter, warm hands and soft lips, nobody will ever find out.

Lewis Hamilton, Brackley, late January 2024

Stepping into the factory for the first time after turning 39 feels different. Granted, that might be because Nico is the team principal now rather than because of the additional year to Lewis’ life, but it’s somehow easier to blame it on his age than admit he’s slightly nervous to work with Nico. They’d texted a bit over the past month, just updates on the progress the team made with the car and pictures of Roscoe, but it’s still more than they talked since Nico’s retirement. He’d say things are fine.

George is waiting for him already, clearly intending to go into the factory with Lewis. “Hiya, Georgie,” Lewis greets, grinning when George’s mouth twists in disdain at the name. He’s so predictable. “Hello, mate,” George gives back, taking off his gloves as they walk through the entrance. They’re fancy cashmere gloves, and Lewis almost snorts at how on-brand for George they are.

“Had a good break?” They also texted a bit over the break, sent each other snapshots of their holidays, but they haven’t really talked beyond that. Also, it makes for a great conversation topic. “Yeah, it was great. I spent loads of time with my family, and I’m feeling very rested. Ready for the season to start!” This time he does snort. “George, mate, it’s still a month ‘til Bahrain, you know that, right?” 

George rolls his eyes good-naturedly and takes off his jacket, carrying it over his arm. “Yeah, mate, I know. A bit until pre-season testing as well. But it’s always nice to be back at the factory to actually see the progress, not just read about it from Nico or in one of the group chats.”

Oh, the group chats. 

Lewis truly should’ve been prepared for them, but to his embarrassment, he was completely surprised by their appearance. After Nico went to the factory earlier this month and properly started working on improving the car, he made group chats on WhatsApp. Multiple group chats. There’s one with the entirety of the team with all the employees, very creatively titled ‘Merc-AMG P F1 Team’, then there’s the two with an additional ‘-Brackley’ and ‘-Brixworth’ respectively. Unfortunately, Lewis (and therefore George as well, probably) is in both of them. 

All three of them are muted and archived, but he checks them once a day because he’s a good employee like that. The fourth group chat will have constantly changing members depending on which team members accompany the team to the races, titled ‘Merc-AMG P F1 team - on the road’. Clearly, Nico wasn’t all that creative in naming them, but the space wasn’t quite enough based on the abbreviations. That one was muted and put into the archive as well.

There’s only one group chat that doesn’t have the same fate. It’s named ‘Merc driving fam + CEO’, and Lewis has honestly stopped questioning Nico’s sanity. The members are Nico, Toto, George, Mick and Lewis himself. The only message he’s sent to the chat so far asked whether the Junior drivers shouldn’t be in it as well, to which Nico had responded with a definite no, saying it would get too crowded otherwise. Sure.

“I’m pretty sure the group chats have given me grey hair already.”

George laughs loudly, shifting his gloves and beanie (when did he even take it off?) into his left hand to reach for Lewis’ hair with his right, inspecting the curls. “I knew something was different about you,” he teases with a grin. Lewis can’t help but smile at him in amusement, even though he scoffs.

“Watch it, kid, if you call me old one more time I’m adding extra sim work to your schedule,” he warns jokingly. They both know he wouldn’t, and it wouldn’t be a proper punishment either, not with how much they both love racing, even if it’s just on the simulator. They each have their own designated sim in the factory, but if Lewis were feeling particularly devious, he’d force George to do a lap in his sim rather than the younger man’s. It’d be a pain for his back and legs for sure.

His teammate gasps in mock-fear, letting go of Lewis’ hair to place a hand over his chest. “Doing me like this, I see how it is,” he sniffs. Lewis, in return, reaches up to ruffle George’s soft waves, making his eyes shine like a little boy’s. Adorable, really. He’s getting way too soft the older he gets. There’s no other explanation for the surge of affection going through his chest.

“Always doing you like this, mate,” he teases, shrugging off his own coat once they reach their offices. The rooms are right next to each other, and Lewis opens the door to his so he can place the coat over the rack. George seemingly does the same, since he’s no longer carrying his outdoor clothes when Lewis shuts the door again. 

“Ready to meet the bosses?” He snorts. “Never gonna be ready, I think. Also real fuckin’ weird to hear bosses, plural, instead of just the boss or Toto.” George grins at him. “Too old for a little bit of change, Sir Lewis?” “Oh, you little shit”, Lewis huffs, charging at George to get him into a headlock. The younger man squalls, trying to fight against Lewis’ hold, but he has the element of surprise and his strength on his side. George is at his mercy, so Lewis messes up his hair thoroughly. 

“What on earth is going on here?” They both startle at the drawling voice judging them. Lewis turns around without loosening his hold on George, forcing him to move with him as he turns to look at Nico. “Teaching the kid a lesson, he can’t get away with calling me old, the little shit-” He’s cut off by George whining about his neck hurting, so of course he has to mess up his hair some more.

Nico clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Lewis, you’re 39, act your age.” George laughs triumphantly, poking Lewis’ side where his arms are free to move around. “Ha! Told you you’re old! Take that, old man!” He tightens his hold one last time before he lets go of him to glare at him for the audacity to call him old after he went through all that trouble. “Still finished in front of you last year.” Immediately, George complains.

“Hey! That’s not fair! You have more experience! And unlike you I won a race the last two seasons,” he argues, sticking his tongue out at Lewis childishly. Before Lewis can make another remark, like remind him of his pole position in Hungary, Nico interrupts them once more. 

“Both of you, enough with the bickering. This is a serious workplace here, please at least try to act like it. It would be so greatly appreciated. And anyway, you two are already late to the meeting, so hurry up, would you?”

Lewis turns to look at George, who looks sheepish, like he wants to apologise to Nico. He will allow no apologising to Nico Rosberg under his watch, thank you very much. So he rolls his eyes into George’s direction in an exaggerated manner, making him fight to suppress a laugh. “Yes, boss,” Lewis mocks, and George loses his battle. The older driver beams at him, always happy to make others laugh.

Nico sounds exasperated in a fond way when he opens his mouth again. “Meeting room, both of you, now.” Lewis salutes, brushing a few stray curls out of his face while he’s at it. Apparently, that brings Nico’s attention to his hair, if Lewis interprets his staring right.

“You’re not wearing braids,” he comments as they walk to the meeting room. Lewis shrugs, noncommittal. “It’s good to let my scalp breathe a bit,” he explains. “Braids are good for protecting the hair and practical for the racing, but I like to have them out for a few weeks at least. Feels nice to let the curls free, sometimes.” Nico’s looking at him from the side, and Lewis is glad his hair has grown long enough to hide a bit of his face when he wears it open. He almost considers pulling out the hair tie he has in his pocket and tying his hair up, especially after George’s tugging earlier, but he truly does like the softness of the curls against his face and how airy his hair feels when it’s all loose and natural. 

“Looks good,” Nico whispers. It’s quiet enough to maybe go unnoticed by George (it wasn’t, Lewis can hear his giggles from where he’s walking on his other side) and Lewis picks up on it because he’s known Nico for decades. He sounds a bit unsure, as if he wasn’t sure whether to say it or to bite his tongue, and Lewis is a lot more endeared than he should be. “Thanks,” he replies, making sure to sound casual and easy. His teammate next to him is still amused, so Lewis uses his distraction to hit the back of his head lightly, chuckling at how he splutters and glares. 

He’s kind of forgotten how big the distance between the drivers’ offices and the big meeting room is. The TP’s office is at about half the distance, which makes sense considering he constantly has to walk between the meeting room, sim rooms, offices, CEO office (a whole stage above) and developing rooms. It’s only fair that office is the one that’s easiest to access from everywhere. Still, the distance only becomes apparent whenever Lewis has to actually walk it, even more so with the mild awkward silence thing they currently have going on.

From the corner of his eye, he can see George typing on his phone quite furiously. Lewis is tempted to peek, or to bet money he’s texting either Carmen or Alex, or the group chat that a bunch of the younger drivers have to fill them in on the ‘drama’. He’s self-aware enough to know his relationship makes great material for gossiping and is quite high on the list of things people, including other drivers and probably even teams, talk about. But he’d kind of love to know just what exactly they’re saying. He’d pay a lot of money to be able to see them from an outsider#s point of view for once. It must be like watching a badly written movie.

With a sigh, he remembers his therapist’s words. If you want to have a good professional relationship with him, you should at least try to fix your personal relationship. Talk it out. At least the basics. And to be fair, the weird atmosphere is between him and Nico. George is just there, texting and easily amused, so he guesses there might actually be some truth to it.

“Hey, Nico,” he mumbles, waiting for the other man to turn towards him slightly. It’s an attempt to diffuse that tension, to hopefully find some common ground for the season. They were fine while texting, so he is rather positive they can come to an agreement. Once Nico’s attention is on him, he carries on. “Wanna grab dinner later? We should maybe talk, I think.” 

Both Nico and George choke. Nico is thrown into a coughing fit whereas George earns himself an elbow to the side for his troubles, and Lewis, in all his kindness, slaps Nico’s back to help him. 

When his coughing subsides, Nico’s red in the face and nobody can be sure if it’s due to the coughing or if he’s blushing. “I… yes. I think I’d like that.” Lewis smiles and claps his back again, lightly, then kicks George a bit harder when he sees the smug look his teammate is sporting. Today’s youth, honestly.

It takes them another few minutes to arrive, and once they finally do, Nico fully blames Lewis and George, exposing them in front of everyone. Not the tiniest bit better than Toto.

The meeting itself is boring, just welcoming the two drivers at the factory and officially informing everyone of all the progress they made, as if it isn’t accessible to everyone through the group chats. Still, Lewis pretends he’s paying attention. If he didn’t, it’d spark rumours of how he and Nico aren’t mature enough to work together, that he’s still acting like a petulant child, and he’s not having that. He invited Nico for dinner and a talk, after all. And he intends to go through with that.

                                        ❀❁

After a long day in the sim room and seemingly endless analysing of data, he bids his goodbye to George and the team and goes to find Nico in his office. “Coming with me or do you need a while longer? We can set a time and place, no worries.” He doesn’t bother to greet him properly. They’ve never done that before. 

Nico looks up, looking tired and wary. Before he can answer, Lewis is already talking again. “Yeah, no, I take back the question. You’re coming with me, now, you’ve been working long enough today. Log out, Nico.” He watches as his former best friend sighs, drags a hand over his face and slumps over his desk, tensing up before all tension leaves his body. Lewis walks closer, settling his hands on Nico’s shoulders and massaging gently. He is, once more, acting purely based on instinct, but based on the way Nico’s relaxing underneath his hands, his instinct was right yet again. 

“Okay,” Nico agrees, shrugging off Lewis’ hands to log out of his account and turn off his screens. “However, you don’t get to decide when I start or end my work days. I have a schedule, and I should follow that schedule.” 

Lewis hums. “Yeah, you have a certain amount of hours you need to work a day. When’d you get here, though?” He has a guess of what the answer to that question is going to be. “Five in the morning, maybe?” Jackpot. 

“Work day’s beyond over, then,” he says lightly, walking towards the door. “Follow me, boss.” He doesn’t have to turn around to know Nico’s following him. “You know you shouldn’t be ordering me around, right? I’m your Team Principal, you're supposed to follow my orders,” Nico chastises, but Lewis just shrugs.

“Yeah, Nico, I know. But I know you, you know me, we don’t really work the way we’re supposed to. When it comes to racing, I promise I’ll follow your orders unless they’re complete bullshit, same as I’ve done with Toto. We’re friends with Toto as well, it worked with him, as well. I don’t see how this should be any different, now.” 

He hears Nico sigh from where they now walk side by side towards the exit, headed towards the car park. “Are we, though? Friends?” What a question. It’s one Lewis honestly doesn’t have a proper answer to, but he’d like to find one. Have they ever been really just friends? Maybe back in the early days of karting, but towards the end, the tension was already there. Not today’s awkward tension of strangers with a past, but of friends with a future of potentially more. Not that it ever worked out. 

“I think that’s what we’ll establish today, no?” It’s a lot easier to answer that loaded question with a question of his own than to find an answer to Nico’s. It’s better for his heart, too.

They reach the building’s exit. “You still live in London when you work in the factory?” Lewis shakes his head. “I’m in London a lot, but I do have a place a little out of Brackley. It’s more convenient than driving about 70 miles here and home each day,” he explains. That flat was bought in 2017, shortly after Nico’s retirement, when Lewis spent more time in the factory than he should’ve and driving two hours a day annoyed him beyond words. Driving in traffic is a lot less pleasant than driving an F1 car.

“So where are we headed, then?” Nico asks, pulling out a pair of black leather gloves and covering his hands. “Your place or mine, I don’t care. Let’s just order take-out, I don’t think it’s the smartest thing to have this conversation in public.” Nico agrees easily, offering to go to his flat because it’s within walking distance whereas Lewis’ is a little further away. So they make their way to Nico’s newest apartment, ordering food as they walk in hopes it’ll arrive around the same time they do. Of course, they reach the flat a lot earlier than the food does, but they spend the 20 minute wait in awkward silence instead of starting their conversation.

It’s only after both their plates are filled that Lewis initiates what will presumably be the hardest conversation of his life. “So. We’re back to Mercedes, huh?” Awesome conversation starter, Lewis, he’s been Toto’s student ever since August, you two have been back to Mercedes half a year ago. Dumbass. Nico fiddles with his fork, stabbing a mushroom a bit too aggressively. 

“Yeah. Nice to be back, actually,” he answers, smiling down at his plate softly. “Nice to have you back,” Lewis admits. The words were harder to get out than they probably should’ve been. He pushes on. “I can’t lie, it was a bit of a shock for me when you suddenly were next to Toto in August.” Nico smirks. “Yeah, George said you dropped your phone.” That little shit. 

He chooses not to comment on that, instead opting to follow his half-assed plan. “About the same level of shock as your retirement announcement was for me. Took me completely by surprise. I had a plan for how I’d fight you again in 2017, how maybe we could fix things now that we both had a championship, and then suddenly you disappeared from my life completely. Wasn’t easy, I can’t lie.” If he were a stronger man, he’d look up to gauge Nico’s reaction. As it is, he focuses on the vegetables on his plate, cutting a piece of broccoli apart carefully. 

“I knew in Abu Dhabi that I’d retire if I won that championship.”

Lewis does look up, now. “And if you hadn’t?” Nico’s still looking down, as focused on his food as Lewis himself was just seconds ago. “I probably still would’ve retired. Vivi was constantly begging me to at least take a break, fix my sleeping, go to therapy. I guess she would’ve pushed me to retire even if I lost. I wasn’t in a good place at all.” Right. Vivian Sibold, Nico’s best friend apart from Lewis, back then. Or, Vivian Rosberg, probably, Nico’s wife. Of course she would’ve pushed him to retire, she knows him better than anyone else. They have children together, for fuck’s sake. 

“Would you have listened?” Nico shrugs. “Never had to find out, did I.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, completely void of emotions. Silence falls over the table again before Lewis finds the courage to break it once more. “I’ve missed you. It wasn’t the same without you.” He’s only admitted this once before, to his therapist. Not even his closest friends, not even his parents have heard these words from him in all the years since Nico’s retirement, even though he once cried in his mother’s arms about it. Nobody but his therapist. And now, Nico.

“I do, too,” Nico whispers, finally looking up and meeting Lewis’ eyes. His blue irises reflect the same look Lewis is sure can be seen in his own. Pain, longing, mourning, love. Emotions that keep making their way back up no matter how hard Lewis fights to keep them down, no matter how much therapy he’s done in the last years, especially after the disaster of 2021.

“I miss you so much. I did everything to forget, to get over you, but no matter what, I kept seeing your face. In advertisements, in F1, at Merc, on Social Media, everywhere. Even the girls kept going on and on about the magical Lewis Hamilton, about wanting to meet you. Especially after you started giving them Christmas and birthday gifts. They keep demanding I introduce them to you, they made sure to speak English well enough to talk to you. You’re everywhere, Lewis, and getting over you is so fucking impossible.”

Lewis swallows. If Nico’s implying what Lewis thinks he is, this conversation will be headed into a direction he never would’ve dared to even dream about. 

“But I had to leave. I was dying. I pushed every single limit, I crossed every single limit. I ate the necessary amount, but that was only just enough to keep me fit to race. I was so paranoid about every single gram, it was horrible. I never ate with the girls, barely with the team. I trained too much, I stopped doing anything that would lower my chances at winning. In that press conference, you talked about how I stopped doing all the fun things we used to do together because my priorities shifted. Yes, they did, but not in the way you thought they did. It wasn’t because of Vivian and Alaïa, it was because it would’ve taken the focus away from racing. And the thigh muscle cycling builds was the only muscle I could safely reduce, so I did just that. It was so fucking unhealthy, Lewis. I was in such a bad place, I couldn’t have continued.”

He’s quiet for a while, but Lewis doesn’t interrupt him. He knows Nico well enough to know he’s collecting his thoughts and still not done talking. When Nico speaks again, his voice is a lot more quiet, a lot more emotional.

“Shit, Lewis, the period after I won was horrible. I was so relieved that I did it, that it was worth it, but I couldn’t live normally anymore. I had so many bad habits I just couldn’t shake yet. It was so bad. I had to retire to even have a chance of living normally again. Fuck, I… I forgot to congratulate you, I didn’t say happy birthday, and when I remembered the day after, I couldn’t bring myself to call. I wasn’t sure you’d answer, and I didn’t want to find out. I was too scared, so I didn’t. And then I hated myself so much for it, and everything came crashing down and I just couldn’t take it. I regretted retiring, because that meant the only part of you I was allowed to have, even though things were so bad, wasn’t even mine to have anymore. I just wanted it all to stop.”

He breaks off again. Lewis has stopped eating, his fork’s laying forgotten on his plate. Nico still has his in his hand, in a tight grip, but it’s blurry with the unshed tears brimming in Lewis’ eyes. He’d known it was bad, he’d felt that it was bad, but he never had any idea of just how bad it was. Hearing it definitely hits hard.

“I’m sorry, Nico,” he whispers. It’s sincere, conveying everything he’s ever wanted to say. The emotions make the words heavier, give them more meaning, but it’s still not enough. Nothing will ever be enough to make up for everything he’s put Nico through, for everything he was put through by Nico. They were explosive.

Nico clears his throat, then keeps talking. “It got better. I started therapy, I found things to direct my attention to, new hobbies, Sky sports, yachting, I had the girls. I started healing. My therapist kept saying I should talk to you, Vivian kept saying I should talk to you, Luisa kept saying I could only heal after talking to you. Even my parents kept saying I should talk to you. But I never had the courage to. You always seemed so distant, so mad at me, so angry, and I didn’t want to push any more than I already had. So I didn’t, and I made my peace with the way things are and the way it all played out. Obviously it sucks, but we can’t change it, and I’m better now. Lots better, actually. It’s fine.”

“It’s not, Nico, fuck, I’m sorry. We put each other through hell and back, and we should’ve just been there for each other and fought together, not each other. We fucked it up so bad, and I’m so sorry for everything I did to you. I’m so sorry, Nico.”

“I’m sorry too, Lewis. I don’t regret the championship, but I regret the way I won it. I wish I could’ve won it without losing you.”

Lewis smiles sadly. “I wish we could’ve done things right. I wish we could’ve celebrated your championship. I wish you could’ve been there for the other championships. It always felt like there was a void that just couldn’t be filled. I missed you, always. But I was too scared to admit it, so it was easier to cling to the anger. It protected me, in a way. And over the years, I learned how wrong I was, and I became a better person. And I heard your comments, and the hope that we could fix things never left. But I was scared, too scared to make the first move, and when I tried, you didn’t answer.”

Nico looks at him in confusion. “Abu Dhabi, 2021,” he elaborates, watching understanding dawn on Nico’s face. “Oh, Lewis,” he breathes, looking heartbroken. “I didn’t want to, not after you lost. I didn’t want to take advantage of how vulnerable you were. I heard what you said, and it brought me many sleepless nights, but I couldn’t. Not when you’d just lost.”

Lewis shrugs. “Well, I thought you’d moved on, then. So I didn’t try again and clung to the anger again. Angela kept nagging me about it, but I couldn’t. Not again.”

“I’m sorry,” Nico says, but Lewis shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. We had more than enough chances to talk, and we never did.”

They’re silent again, before Nico starts talking. 

“You know, I really thought one day, we could be together,” he says. Lewis’ entire world stands still, then keeps spinning. In a different direction of rotation. “You did?” Nico nods.

“Yeah, I’ve always hoped we’d find a way to fix whatever the mess between us was and do it properly.” 

That was decidedly not what Lewis had expected from that evening. “I did, too,” he admits, deflating. Time to be vulnerable, Hamilton.

“I’ve been in love with you ever since I was 16. And we were the best of friends, which was fine by me. That friendship was always my priority, so I never acted on it. And then you kissed me, and my world tilted. But then you had Vivian, and I didn’t want to get between the two of you, but you kept coming back to me, and we’d make out again, fuck again, and I felt awful every single time. You got engaged, for fuck’s sake, and I know that we never were exclusive, that I had this thing with Nicole just as you had Vivian, but it hurt so bad. And then I wasn’t even invited to the wedding, and I thought that was it. You didn’t introduce me to your daughter, and I wasn’t at the ceremony, so I started sleeping around. It made it easier, somehow. And then 2016 happened, and whatever we had blew up in our faces and ended, and that was it, then. But I never got over you, even though I tried absolutely everything to forget and move on. I failed spectacularly. That’s why I was so angry, because I’m in love with a married man and that’s just pointless, and we’re not even friends anymore. I’d like to try again, if that’s okay with you. To be friends, at least. I know I was horrible to you, that I’ve hurt you a lot, and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

He’s breathing heavily by the time he’s finished his speech, emotionally drained and tightly-coiled. Nico, however, is gaping at him in evident confusion.

“You… What?” 

Lewis really doesn’t feel like explaining all of that again, so he’s glad when Nico starts talking. “What do you mean, married? Lewis, verdammt, you weren’t invited because there never was a ceremony in the first place. I’m not married, least of all to Vivian. Never been, at that. Alaïa and Naila are biologically mine, but Vivi had them via IVF. They’re her daughters with her girlfriend, Luisa.”

He stares.

“What?”

“Lewis, you fucking idiot. Did you really spend the past decade thinking I’m married? Did nobody ever tell you? Did you never see Vivi’s posts on Instagram? Luisa is all over her posts, did you truly never see that?”

Lewis blushes. “I have her blocked. I was too jealous to stand seeing you and her play happy family.” Nico groans loudly. “Oh my god, Lewis, you’re insufferable. Vivi and I made a deal at fifteen, to pretend-date if any of us ever got a partner, to make our families think we’re straight. We’re both quite gay, Lewis. You’d know that if you bothered asking.”

The blush deepens. “I felt so fucking guilty every time I slept with you, thinking you were cheating on Vivian.” 

Nico bursts out laughing.

“I have to tell Vivi about this! Luisa will never let us live this down, oh my god. Lewis, we’re idiots. We could’ve fixed this ten years ago.”

Lewis has to agree. They’re idiots. And they still have so many things to talk about, emotions and fights to sort through, but right now, all he wants to do is to kiss Nico, so he does. He stands up, rounds the table and cups Nico’s face, making him look up at him. Lewis leans down and connects their lips, a lot more gentle than ever before, and kisses him, silently saying everything he never told Nico out loud through the kiss. 

It’s the best kiss of his life.

Nico Rosberg, Brackley, the day after

He wakes up feeling utterly blissful.

In all honesty, that’s probably the best he’s slept in ages, and waking up feels sweet and warm, wrapped up in familiar arms. That’s home, safety, every single beautiful thing he can think of.

“Mhm, morning,” Lewis says, voice deeper from sleep. Hot. 

“Morning, Lewis,” he answers, stretching a bit before he settles against Lewis more comfortably. They stay like that for a while, basking in the soft warmth of the morning, the happiness of being together like that. It’s a kind of intimacy they haven’t felt in ages, if not never before. They’re closer, now, everything feels more open and more real.

“So what does this make us?” He didn’t particularly want to interrupt their peace, but the question’s been burning on his tongue for too long now, and he couldn’t quite hold it back anymore. Lewis’ fingers draw patterns into his back. His curls are tickling Nico’s skin. It’s the nicest thing he’s ever felt.

“Whatever you want this to make us. I’m fine with everything. We can start building up our friendship again, we can start building our… relationship, or we can let things unfold, or we can take a step back and be strictly TP and driver. Whatever you want, love, really.”

Lewis isn’t playing fairly. At all. All soft touches and warm skin, gentle tone, pet name. But still giving him a choice. Because he knows how fragile their peace is, how easily it can come to an end. How badly that end would affect Nico. Lewis, too, probably. But he’s still giving Nico a choice, and he appreciates it a lot.

“I… I’d like this to turn into a relationship eventually. But I think we’re not quite there yet. We should maybe talk some more, and get closer again, work in the factory and on our friendship. Get to know each other again, do this properly. But I’d really, really love for us to make this work.”

When he looks up, he sees how Lewis’ entire face is lit up from the way he smiles. His eyes practically sparkle with happiness, and something inside of Nico’s chest bursts, sending fireworks of warmth through his entire body. 

“I’d love that, Nico. I really would.”

As if to prove his words true, he presses Nico back into the mattress and kisses him thoroughly, making great use of the fact that they only have to be at the factory at 8.

When they do reach the factory, Lewis is wearing Nico’s clothes, because they stayed in bed too long for him to be able to go home to change without being far too late. Considering Lewis will wear workout clothes stacked at the factory for the sim work, it doesn’t matter too much. It’s just jeans and a Merc sweater, to not attract attention, but everything inside of Nico still sings at the sight of him in his clothes.

They don’t enter the building together. After all, they decided to take things slow and let everything happen naturally, and arriving to work together would be a little… fast paced, considering they only talked yesterday.

Obviously, there’s still so many things they need to address, many uncomfortable conversations they need to have, before they can comfortably take things further. But for now, just knowing that they’ll try is everything. It’s so much more than he had just 24 hours ago, when he was still hopelessly pining, still texting Vivian immediately after even seeing Lewis.

Speaking of his best friend, he types out a message to her the second he reaches his office,

< So Lewis and I talked yesterday. Not about everything, but he knows, now. He said he loves me. We’ll try again.

> “We’ll try again” Nico honey you’ll TRY because whatever it was you had back then was everything but proper

She replies immediately, and it leaves him rolling his eyes as per usual. A few seconds later, his phone lights up with another message from her.

> Seriously tho, I’m so happy for you. So proud. But please don’t rush into things, take it slow, you have time. Use your brain more than your dick, we don’t want this blowing up in our faces. But I’m so proud of you, well done champ. It’ll be better this time or I’ll cut off his balls ;)

< I love you.

> I know, honey. So does Lewis

Yeah. He can’t stand her.

And yet, he’s beyond grateful for her, for everything she’s done for him, for their friendship. He won’t tell her that now, no matter how emotional he’s currently feeling. She’s being annoying, so she won’t get any messages filled with gratitude and the love of a life-long friendship. (Lewis might. Not yet, though. But Nico’s heart is so full with love for the driver, he feels like he could burst from the sheer amount of love he carries within him. Somehow, he’ll have to get it out or else he’ll spontaneously die from carrying all that love without an outlet. Yeah, he’s down bad.)

He’s a lot more relaxed throughout the entire day, a lot less tense, especially compared to yesterday. When he checks in with the drivers during their sim time, George raises a single eyebrow at him, and Nico smirks at his younger driver in a way that makes George’s face do a funny journey before a deep blush settles in his cheeks. Nico laughs at him, amused at how flustered he gets, but that laughter dies when he leaves George’s room to enter Lewis’ and sees the driver in the seat, thighs looking delicious and biceps flexing when he turns the wheel. Now, it’s him who’s blushing.

Still, he’s way more relaxed, shoulders a lot looser, feeling content. When he drops by Toto’s office to go through the plans for pre-season testing, the CEO notices as well, but Nico interrupts him before he can even open his mouth, beginning to explain his plan to the other man to prevent the conversation he knows will happen sooner or later.

He doesn’t elaborate. For nobody. Everybody can come to their own conclusions, but Lewis speeds things up a bit when he sits down next to Nico during lunchtime. He’s talking only about the car, about the progress he’s made so far, about how the laps feel completely different to the ones he did last year in the W14. But people notice, and gossip spreads, and people stare. Nico doesn’t care. He’s happy. Whether that is because they talked things out or because he got fucked within an inch of his life after is nobody else’s business.

                                          ❀❁

And then, before he knows it, his little blissful bubble of Mercedes and getting closer with Lewis is disturbed a bit by pre-season testing. They step foot on the circuit before his brain has quite caught up with what’s happening.

There will be interviews, and questions, and invasive comments, and decisions to be made and truths to be unveiled, and cars to be driven, and Nico’s terrified. He seriously regrets accepting Toto’s offer the night before testing starts, laying in bed with panic lacing his every thought.

Even despite the amount of therapy he’s done and how much better he’s gotten, he’s still anxious about all of this. Especially because it’s the first time he’s on the receiving end of all of the chaos after his retirement, and he knows it’ll be a lot worse now. He’s responsible for George and Lewis, for Mick as well. Should things go wrong, he’s responsible for it and will need to take the consequences, make difficult decisions, let himself be painted as the villain. In all honesty, it terrifies him.

He’s saved from his downward spiral by a knock at the door.

It’s Lewis, holding a package of Kellogg’s frosties, and Nico almost bursts into tears at the sight of him. He’s flooded with pure relief, Lewis’ presence immediately calming his frayed nerves, and at the same time, seeing him with corn flakes feels bittersweet. It reminds him of their shared childhood, of what-could’ve-beens, and it’s oh so bittersweet.

Still, he invites him in, watches as he gets comfortable on his bed and smiles at him sweetly. His heart is so warm, so full of love, and the urge to tell Lewis is stronger than ever. But they agreed to take it slow, so he can’t.

So he just sits down next to him, a bit tense.

“Nervous for tomorrow?” And yeah, he should’ve figured Lewis still knows how to read him like an open book.

He nods, taking the box when Lewis offers it to him. To stall actually having to answer him, he shakes a few corn flakes into his hand and throws them into his mouth, chewing slowly. The sweet, familiar taste makes him remember a time where everything was easier, less grave, and he can feel his shoulders dropping.

“Yeah. Pretty anxious about what’ll happen,” he admits, letting another wave of tension bleed out of him with the admission.

Lewis eats a handful of corn flakes as well, then smiles at Nico while he chews. It shouldn’t be as endearing to Nico as it is, but it also makes him remember when they were teens who always shared Kellogg’s Frosties while talking about emotional stuff, only trusting their soul to the other and knowing they’d be understood. It feels like they’re slipping back into how they used to be during that time, at high speed.

“You know the press. You were the press, until this year. You know what they’ll ask, and you know what they’ll answer. It’s just a game. You love to play games, don’t you?” He has the audacity to wink at Nico, and Nico feels the urge to throw himself at him and press him into the mattress. He’s not sure whether he wants to kiss him senseless or tickle him until Lewis surrenders.

Only when Lewis breaks out into loud laughter does he realise that the ultimate goal was to distract him, to ease his worries while simultaneously taking his mind off them by riling him up. He considers kissing Lewis, but they agreed to take things slow, to build their friendship back up before they can start working on maybe forming a relationship. So kissing is off the table.

Instead, he reaches into the box to get another handful of corn flakes and tosses them into Lewis’ face. At the look of utter confusion and blank surprise the other sports, he dissolves into hearty laughter. Lewis recovers fairly quickly, takes his own handful and closes his fist, creating tiny crumbs. He lifts his hand over Nico’s head.

“No! No, Lewis, please, no, please, please, no,” Nico begs, but with how hard he’s laughing still, the words don’t come out clear. “What was that? You want a Frosties shower? Sure thing, Nico,” he grins. The corners of his eyes are crinkling and his grin is threatening to split his face in half, and Nico tries to shove him despite how beautiful, how carefree he’s looking. All that does is get Lewis closer to him, and then a shower of corn flake crumbs is cascading down Nico’s head.

His laughter gets louder as he struggles, his body’s shaking from the sheer force of it. His complaints go unheard with how loud they’re being, and he can’t get the words out properly anyway. 

So he gets another few corn flakes and shoves them into Lewis’ mouth when the other man points at his head. Lewis chokes, coughs and laughs even louder, taking the entire box and dumping the contents over Nico’s head. There goes his crumb-free bed.

“Lewis! I said no crumbs in bed,” he complains, but he’s still laughing so hard his stomach hurts and his cheeks are almost sore. It’s the happiest he’s been in a while, if he’s honest.

“Oh no, looks like you’ll have to clean this up before sleeping tonight,” Lewis smirks, the triumph of victory written all over his face. And well, Nico just can’t let him win.

“Oh no,” he mocks Lewis, “looks like you’ll be sharing your bed tonight.” The smirk drops, gets replaced by surprise that makes way for a fond look in Lewis’ eyes. They look at each other for a few seconds, eyes gentle and mouths pulled into soft smiles.

Then, Lewis’ smile widens. “Diva, should’ve known you’d make me do this,” he teases, reaching up to tug at Nico’s hair. He returns the gesture by grabbing Lewis’ braids, and then they’re wrestling on the bed, crushing corn flakes underneath their bodies and spreading the crumbs everywhere.

Just like old times.

Lewis Hamilton, Bahrain, February 2024

Unsurprisingly, Nico does really well. Judging by the text he received from the other man, it is surprising for Nico himself, but Lewis never had any doubt whatsoever. He’s always known Nico’s amazing with the media, knows just how to play their game. It comes with growing up in the spotlight, probably.

More surprisingly, the car feels great.

After all the simulation laps, it’s not that big of a surprise anymore, especially considering the past two cars felt bad on the sim already, but after the persisting horrors of the 2022 and 2023 seasons, he was prepared for the worst.

He should’ve known Nico would give him a better car.

With no offence to Toto, of course, but Nico is a former F1 driver, and he grew up right next to Lewis, he knows just what Lewis needs to be Sir Lewis Hamilton, 7 times World Champion. He knows what a winning car needs, how it has to feel, what Lewis needs to use his full talent. And with James back at the front of development, it was bound to be amazing.

Lewis knows better than to get ahead of himself, knows not to get his hopes and expectations up too high, but the car is truly amazing. Most likely race winning, potentially even championship winning… It’s not unrealistic. He needs to see the bit of data from the other teams they get access to, needs to watch what little footage exists from testing so far, but from what he knows until now they’re about on the same pace as Red Bull. McLaren and Ferrari are close behind, Aston Martin not too far off either. Williams are surprisingly fast as well, same as AlphaTauri. The Haas car looks decent enough, and the livery for the Sauber car- no, Stake F1 Team car, looks very cool but the car seemed to have some minor struggles in the beginning that were fixed soon enough.

All in all, it seems like all cars are competitive enough to deliver actual racing. Maybe there won’t be a need for the kind of memes about the W14 and SF-23 as there were in the last year. Maybe the RB20 can’t be called the rocketship of the grid the way the RB19 was. Maybe there will be more than just the Dutch anthem with the occasional Mexican and Spanish interlude. Maybe there will be a title fight. 

He has every intention of ensuring all of these will happen.

In one of his interviews, he tells the interviewer that he’s hopeful for the season and has high ambitions. The next interviewer asks some variation of that question, as does the one after.

“How’s the car feeling so far? Do you reckon your chances are better than last year?”

He smiles politely, trying to not be too annoyed. They’re just doing their job, after all. 

“Yeah, the car’s feeling pretty good so far. The team really did a good job, thank you to everyone in the factory working so hard over the break. Of course I hope for the 104th win this year, and I always want to be fighting at the front, but we’ll see what’s possible for us this season. I can’t wait for the first race weekend to truly find out what this season will bring, but so far everything’s looking good. I’m really excited.”

The interviewer smiles back at him, all teeth and a vulture-like look in his eyes. “And do you think your team has a chance with the new TP you have?” Lewis senses the malice behind the question, how the media just wants him to say a bad word about Nico to make a story about how they still hate each other and Mercedes is doomed for the season. He won’t give them that. 

“Of course I have full faith in my team. I know the quality we have, I know how well everyone works together. We’re a good team with a good principal, and I have full faith in our abilities.”

It’s not enough, apparently. “Aren’t the other teams at an advantage here? Nico Rosberg has never been a team principal before, and you two haven’t been on the best of terms in the past decade,” the interviewer prods, holding the microphone into Lewis’ face.

“Nico and I are professionals who know when to put personal differences aside, that, by the way, have been settled at the beginning of the year for the sake of said professionalism. We have been a team before, and we have proven that we work well together, and we will show everyone just how well we work together. If anything, I think Nico will be a huge benefit to us. He’s given lots of valuable input so far, and I have full faith in his abilities as a team principal. It will be a good season for us.”

He has to suppress his grin at the surprised expressions on everyone's faces. He just loves taking people by surprise and giving them the exact opposite of what they’d been hoping for. 

Since everyone is too stunned to ask any more questions, he uses the opportunity to leave and get back to the garage to sort through today’s data. After all, they have a season to start.

And start the season they do.

Right from the famous moment of “it’s lights out and away we go”, it becomes abundantly clear that Mercedes have a proper car this year. The free practice sessions proved that already, and Lewis and George locking out the second row in qualifying showed that as well, but seeing the car competitive during the race is a lot more reassuring. After all, the W14 was at the front during a bunch of FP sessions, and Lewis clinched pole in Hungary, only for the races to be completely shit. 

This time, it’s different.

This time, they’re right between Max Verstappen, who’d started P2, and Charles Leclerc, who’d taken the first pole position of the season. Perhaps a bit selfishly, Lewis briefly wishes it was the Ferrari they’re chasing rather than Max’s Red Bull, but as it is, they’re P2 and P3 when DRS is enabled, and Charles is right behind George, Oscar Piastri and Alex Albon in tow. Lewis knows because Bono keeps him very updated on everything going on, as always during the first race of the season.  

On lap 12, George is overtaken by Charles. Lewis is still chasing Max, and Bono only informs him of the overtake because Lewis demanded frequent updates on his teammate. For more knowledge on how well the car is working, of course. 

They pit in lap 23 and 24 respectively, before their direct competitors. It leads to Lewis leading the race for a few laps before Max is back to take the lead from him, but if Lewis is quite honest, he’s not too surprised. George stays in P3, close behind Lewis.

He attempts to overtake Max, but the younger man anticipates his move and defends too well for him to pass, and so they stay in that formation. Thankfully, the race goes without interruptions, no crashes and subsequent yellow flags. 

When Lewis crosses the finish line only 0.964 seconds off of Max, with George just two seconds behind him in P3, it’s official. They have a great car, they can fight for wins, they’re ready to battle at the front. Lewis is ecstatic, more excited about P2 than he was in a long time, and just as excited to have his teammate on the podium with him.

“What a drive, boys!” Nico’s voice booms over the radio, and Lewis snorts at being called a boy again. After all, he’s older. “You really outdid yourselves! Fuck, double podium! Yes! Yes!” The message is paused shortly, Lewis can hear George’s laugh. Their radios must be connected as well, then. “Congrats, you two. You truly did amazing, I’m so happy. Congratulations.”

Lewis can hear the delight and happiness in Nico’s tone. He feels the exact same way. “Thank you! You gave us a great car, Nico. Truly amazing.” He barely manages to prevent himself from saying simply lovely, the way Max always does. He knows the fans would find it absolutely hilarious, as would his team, but he doesn’t quite feel like hearing what the media has to say about it. Probably that he envies Max, is trying to be him, jealous of his car and still holding a grudge for 2021.

George voices his appreciation as well, and then they’re pulling into parc fermé, getting out of their cars and hurrying towards each other to embrace. The hug is not unlike the one they shared in Brazil after George’s maiden win. They both felt the car, are both very aware of its potential, and share the excitement for the season.

When they settle the caps on their heads, the interviewer’s already waiting for George to come over to him, so they go through the pleasantries and make sure to praise the team in Brackley for their amazing work.

In the cooldown room, Max eyes the both of them, maybe a bit warily. Lewis just smirks at him. He knows that look, and he’s going to refrain from provoking the Dutchman. But he knows what Max is thinking. His own thoughts are heading into the same direction, after all.

Nico Rosberg, Australia, March 2024

Jeddah went much the same as Bahrain. Second row in qualifying, fighting with Max and Charles, Max on the top step, George and Lewis on either of his sides, just the other way around, Charles in P4 with Oscar behind him. Surprisingly, Lance Stroll was in P6.

But in Australia, it’s neither Charles Leclerc nor Max Verstappen on pole. Not even in the front row. Instead, it’s George Russell on pole with his teammate Lewis Hamilton next to him. Max, due to an out-of-the-blue-engine failure during Q2, only managed to be P12, while Charles got P3 with Alex Albon next to him.

Nico, as a former Williams driver himself, is more than just pleased to see how well their drivers are doing so far. Alex finished P7 in both races, Logan in P11 and P12. In Australia, Logan qualified P8, and Nico feels a bit guilty about how excited he feels about it. He’s very much bound to Mercedes, and more than just loyal to his team, but seeing Williams do well never fails to make him happy.

In the post-qualifying interviews, George was asked about his chances in the race on Sunday, and Nico still laughs when he thinks about his response. 

“Unless our engine fails, I'm absolutely convinced we’ll get another double podium. Preferably a 1-2 this weekend. I think that would be a nice reward for last season.”

So, when the race on Sunday starts, Nico’s excited. He knows both of his drivers will do amazing, he has full faith in them.

Which is decidedly not misplaced.

They take the chequered flag right after another, a respectable three seconds in front of Oscar Piastri, who takes the first podium of the season during his home race.

Nico has to take his headphones off briefly with how loud George’s cheering for his second win is. It’s not at all helped by Lewis’ more than just enthusiastic praises for his teammate, and by the time they both quieten down, they’re already getting out of their cars, so he didn’t even get the chance to praise them himself.

So he sprints towards them with record speed, catching George when he throws himself at the team. He’s still wearing his helmet, so Nico can’t ruffle his hair, but he cradles his helmet between his hands when George stands by himself again, looking into his eyes and congratulating him, praising his beautiful race.

Lewis is right behind George, hugging his teammate, yelling praises and congratulations of his own. Nico hugs him too, shorter than he did George but no less emotionally, and then sends both of them off for their interviews and the podium ceremony with claps to their shoulders.

                                           ❀❁

The podium ceremony is one of the most magical things Nico’s ever experienced. Considering he attended quite a few of them himself, on the podium, that’s saying something, but the first win always feels better than anything else, and he knows it’s the thrill of it, the relief of everything going right, the sheer joy of it all.

“Lewis, how does it feel to be outperformed by your younger teammate? Getting flashbacks to 2016 yet?”

Nico’s jaw drops upon hearing the first question the journalists aim at Lewis after congratulating everyone during the post-race press conference. He watches as Lewis’ media mask slips briefly, fury and annoyance showing on his face for a second before he gets his face back under control. His glare, however, is icy.

“It feels like George was better than me today, simple as that. He’s a great driver, and I’m more than happy to see him succeed. He’s my teammate, as you said, and his win brings our team good points, so of course I’m happy. He drove brilliantly today.”

The screens don’t show the journalist’s reaction, but Nico bets he isn’t too satisfied with that answer. He’s quickly proven right when he inquires about the second part of his question again. Lewis gives him a tight-lipped smile, one that Nico knows promises danger. He’s seen it directed at him one time too many.

“Well. All my Mercedes teammates were blond, and they all won against me at some point of our careers. If George beats me in equal machinery, if Valtteri did, if Nico did, it simply means they were better than me in that race. That’s the sport. I’m not having flashbacks, I’m very much in the present. Enjoying our amazing car,” he winks, laughing at something George says that the microphones don’t pick up on. Nico’s glad to see his drivers happy, even while dealing with annoying questions.

Oscar on George’s other side looks quite amused by all of this as well. He doesn’t say anything, but the expression on his face speaks for itself. And well, Nico’s aware of the kind of gossip that wanders around the drivers, especially the ones under 30.

“Question for George. Do you think this win was gifted to you by Red Bull’s mishap during qualifying?”

Oh. Now Lewis is properly pissed. Nico can see it clearly in the way his back straightens and his shoulders raise slightly, his jaw clenches a bit and his hand that was loosely wrapped around the mic tightens.

“Yes,” George smirks. Nico’s jaw drops again. What? “The win was gifted to me just as Carlos’ win in Singapore was. Other teams can only win when Red Bull makes mistakes,” he continues, smirk widening. Nico smells an incoming PR disaster.

Oscar and Lewis next to George snicker, trying to hide their faces behind their hands. Rather unsuccessfully, in Nico’s opinion.

“No, of course not. We’re all drivers, we all fought our way to F1, and we all deserve to be here. None of us wants, nor needs, gifted wins. And no wins are gifted in a sport. If you watch football, huge clubs also win against small clubs without a care, that’s what Red Bull did last season. But sometimes, other clubs, or teams, are good enough to beat the most dominant team, and then they deserve the win. I deserve my win, Carlos deserved his, everyone who wins in the future will deserve theirs. We’re competitors, we want to fight, and we fight.”

“Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose,” Oscar adds, shrugging. The drivers seem more relaxed again, less tense and angry, but Nico still feels the tension in his body. He can see Lewis’ still lingering, as well.

The rest of the questions are okay, no more critical questions with potential PR dramas, but it is quite boring compared to the beginning of the press conference. Nico’s glad for it, he gets a bit of time to calm down and prepare for the debrief. It’s his third post-race debrief, but his first post-win debrief, and he plans to keep it as short as humanly possible.

Lewis and George join them in the hospitality soon enough, and he congratulates them again first thing as they sit down, then starts the meeting. They go through the race, talking about their performance. Nico has a spreadsheet highlighting suggestions on how they could still improve, and George eagerly takes notes while Lewis looks at him with a mixture of fondness, exasperation and mild annoyance. That was to be expected, he’s always been like that whenever Nico tried giving him advice for his racing. He appreciates it, is open to constructive criticism, but it’s always a bit of a fine line.

“Sorry, Nico, I know it’s rude to just interrupt, but are you gonna talk about the press conference or not?” George asks, eyebrow raised. Nico snorts. “Well, I wasn’t gonna, but since you brought it up I might as well congratulate you for, how does Twitter say it… being the cuntiest driver since the Nico Rosberg days. You played that interviewer, and I’m very proud of you for the way you did.”

Lewis smirks at Nico from across the table, but talks to George. “Yeah, great job, Georgie. You’re learning fast, huh?” It’s so close to you’ve grown up so much that it makes Nico laugh, and he coughs to conceal that. “Yeah, so. That was the race, and the press conference, and unless you have anything you’d like to add, you’re free to go. See you April first in Japan,” he dismisses the team, waiting until everyone’s collected their things so he can lock the meeting room and leave the paddock for the night. Maybe go celebrate the victory in style. Or in Lewis’ bed, he really isn’t that picky.

Lewis Hamilton, Shanghai. April 2024

“LEWIS HAMILTON HAS DONE IT! 867 DAYS AFTER HIS LAST WIN; LEWIS HAMILTON IS A RACE WINNER AGAIN! A RECORD-BREAKING 104 WINS FOR LEWIS HAMILTON!” 

Lewis can feel tears brimming in his eyes. After two winless seasons, after the failure of Abu Dhabi in 2021, after a million tears and words wasted over the last two years, after watching his teammate win twice, after Max Verstappen’s record-breaking season, after watching Charles win Suzuka this year, seeing Max win the first sprint of the season, years of celebrating P2 at best, he’s finally back on the top step.

The words still echo in his head as he climbs the podium. 

Memories of the last ten minutes flash before his eyes. Nico screaming over the radio, Bono’s incoherent words, getting out of the car and sprinting towards his team, hugging Bono, hugging Nico, taking off his helmet and wiping his eyes, Max and Charles congratulating him, them gushing over his final overtake on the second to last lap to each other in the cooldown room, the beating of his heart as he took the chequered flag before everyone else.

Fuck, he forgot how good it feels to hear his national anthem with Nico’s (Mercedes’) right after it, to watch the crowd from the top step. To receive the first place trophy. To be sprayed with champagne and absolutely drench his team with the sparkly liquid.

It’s all a blur, but it’s thrilling, pure endorphins cursing through his veins. It’s the feeling of winning.

He doesn’t really remember much from the post-race press conference. Sitting in between Max and Charles, laughing at their jokes, smirking while they’re giggling over his head, answering invasive questions and praising his team to death is all he remembers. Not even the debrief is clear in his head, it’s still a haze. He knows the memories will come back tomorrow, but for now he’ll enjoy the team party and give his team the celebration they all deserve.

What he does know is that he spends a good four minutes cheering up George after his teammate’s relatively disappointing (compared to the last few races) P6, especially since George was first in the Championship after yesterday’s sprint. He hugs him close for a bit, carding his fingers through George’s hair, until he seems a little more relaxed, then turns to leave. As he walks, he sees George text Alex, sees a message from Carmen plop up, and knows he’s taken care of. Still, he comes back to him a few minutes later, offering him a drink his younger teammate accepts with the words “and now go kiss Nico” and a self-satisfied smirk.

Well.

He knows a good suggestion when he hears one.

So Lewis sets off to go and look for their team principal, his… something, and hugs him from behind when he finds him in another corner of the room, talking to one of their mechanics. “Hiya, Nico,” he greets, squeezing him for a second before he lets go and passes him the second glass he brought over.

Nico waves the mechanic goodbye and then turns to Lewis. “Hey, race winner,” he beams, eyes shining with happiness and alcohol. Lewis can’t help but huff out a laugh at the sight of him. “A bit drunk, aren’t you,” he teases, grinning brightly when Nico giggles and shakes his head.

“No, Lewis, I’m a professional. I’m definitely not drunk, I’m a pro.” Lewis snorts, “Yeah, a pro at drinking, love,” and then laughs at the pout that forms on Nico’s face. He pokes his side, then throws his arm over Nico’s shoulder and feels him push his head back down against the side of Lewis’ neck. It’s familiar, the way they always ended up sooner or later at a party, drunk off their faces and clingy. And that usually ended in the bathroom, frantically making out, which turned into a hasty retreat to one of their hotel rooms. 

“Okay, so maybe I am a little drunk,” Nico eventually admits, but only presses closer to Lewis, so Lewis tightens his hold. “I am, too,” he gives back, because he is. He came into this club already a bit buzzed from drinking champagne on the podium, and then doing shots with the younger drivers who also wanted to be included in the celebrations back at the paddock (he won’t ask where the bottle came from, he doesn’t want to eventually have to lie to Seb), and then drinking at the club. So he also had his fair share of drinks, and he’d say they’re about the same level of drunk. It’s just that he’s always been able to hide it a bit better than Nico, who’s a very obvious drunk. Very clingy, too, but also hilarious. 

They make their way to the dance floor, immediately ending up in the middle of it, surrounded by the team. For a while, they just dance, but eventually Lewis is lifted by the mechanics, thrown around a bit, praised to no end as they cheer. Lewis laughs, soaking up the feeling, but points towards Nico to motivate them to get their TP up on their hands as well. From the corner of his eye, he spots George filming the entire ordeal, and briefly wonders what kind of gossip will be circulating around the paddock by tomorrow, but then Nico’s next to him, hand extended for Lewis to take, and he’s a weak, weak man. 

When the song ends, they’re slowly put back onto the ground, and then they’re back in the middle of the dancefloor, drinks swishing around their glasses as they dance. And then Nico looks at him, and the world stands still. Suddenly, Lewis is 17 years old, sneaking into a club with his best friend, mesmerised by the way his eyes shine in the light on the dancefloor, transfixed by the streaks of pink that are reflected in his blond hair. He looks ethereal, and Lewis can’t tell anymore if he’s 15, 17, 23 or 39, all he knows is he has Nico right in front of him, in his direct proximity, looking like he came right out of Lewis’ sweetest dream.

His hand touches Nico’s face tenderly, fingertips gently stroking the lines on his face, his nose, eyelids, the bow of his lips. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, isn’t sure if Nico can hear him over the loud music, but the other’s eyes light up all the same and his lips stretch into the most beautiful smile. 

“And you’re my winner,” Nico gives back, inching closer. Lewis smiles at him, leans directly into his space and pulls him closer with a hand on his hip. They breathe the same air, Lewis can feel Nico’s breaths hitting his face. 

To prevent himself from saying something stupid like and you’re my everything, he surges forward and kisses Nico within an inch of his life. He swallows the surprised moan Nico gives him greedily, tightens his grip on his hip and licks over his bottom lip. Lewis desperately wants to get a hand into Nico’s hair and pull, but he’s still holding his drink, and while the temptation to just drop the glass is huge, he still has a bit of decency and doesn’t want to make that kind of mess. If a bit of the drink spilled over his hand already, well. It’s his hand that’s sticky. Nobody has to know.

Nico Rosberg, Miami, May 2024

“You’re equal on points with Max now, do you know that?”

It’s the first thing he asks Lewis once their post-race debrief is finished. In a show of typical Lewis Hamilton class, he’d won the Miami sprint the day before, effectively shutting up everybody who said his win in Shanghai was nothing but a fluke.

Then, Max had won the Grand Prix, but Lewis in P2 got the fastest lap, so they’re currently tied on points.

“Unfortunately, I do.”

He raises an eyebrow at that answer. It wasn’t what he’d expected, not at all. They’re tied for first place, after all, and when he compares Lewis’ results to Max’s, he envisions an exciting battle. When he compares George’s to Checo’s, he sees that while his drivers are absolutely amazing, it’s not just the drivers working magic. It’s a damn great car as well. Knowing this, and especially knowing Lewis, he has zero doubts about who’ll come out on top this time around. But Lewis seems to think differently.

“Not like that, Nico. I like the kid, you know that. But the media, man. They won’t stop bothering me alone about this season being the part two of 2021 that was taken from the people because my car was shit. They keep asking if I think I’ll win, this time, if I’m over ‘21 yet, if there’s still bad blood. It’s been over three years, I’m over it. And I’m over 2016 too. But they just don’t get it! It’s so annoying, it almost makes me wish we weren’t tied on points.”

Whoa. That’s an outburst and a half. Nico sees Lewis’ hands shaking, clenched into fists, and tugs him out of the conference room and into his own office, then pushes him to sit on the (frankly, uncomfortable, in his opinion) couch and settles down on his thighs on a whim. 

“What are you doing?” Lewis questions, sounding just as confused as he looks. “Being a good team principal and encouraging my driver,” he winks, rubbing his hands over Lewis’ tense shoulders. He can feel the man relax under his touch, though his thighs flex to shift Nico slightly. He goes easily, hands making their way towards Lewis’ face.

“You do this with Georgie as well, then?”

Nico huffs out a laugh. “Nah. George only gets scalp massages and I’m not in his lap.” Lewis hums appreciatively, unclenching his hands and settling them on Nico’s waist. “So this is reserved only for me?” 

“Only you, tesoro,” Nico smiles, then leans in to kiss Lewis. His lips are warm and familiar, yet the kiss still sends a shiver down his spine. They exchange soft kisses, trade gentle hums and caresses until Lewis pulls back with a quiet laugh.

“Do other teams do that with their drivers too, what d’you reckon,” he says, eyes crinkling as he looks at Nico. That look makes something inside of Nico melt and he can feel himself softening, smiling back at Lewis automatically. 

“I truly hope it’s not Lawrence and Lance,” he replies, shuddering at the thought of it. Lewis looks at him with pure disbelief for a second. That changes into disgust quickly, and Nico feels the sharp sting of where Lewis slapped his thigh harshly. “Nico!” He just smiles at him innocently and kisses his lips sweetly. “Christian and Max, though…” he ponders, making Lewis gape again.

“You are so full of shit, Nico Rosberg,” he complains, but still kisses him again, a bit more demanding. “You love me,” Nico smiles, then watches as Lewis’ eyes soften while he affirms that he does, in fact, love Nico very much.

“But please, babe, spare me the mental images of Horner fucking Max. Or Fred Charles. Or…” 

Nico interrupts Lewis’ talking with yet another kiss. “You started it, idiot,” he reminds Lewis, and watches the man underneath him roll his eyes. “I was kidding. Couldn’t’ve known you’d use it as an opportunity to get more gossip flowing,” he teases. Nico smirks.

He’s missed conversations like that dearly.

“But, did they…”

“Mein Gott, Lewis, no!”

Lewis Hamilton, Monaco, May 2024

He’s leading the championship by 20 points. With his win in Imola, and now the win of Monaco, the most pretentious race on the calendar, he’s officially back on top. It’s a thrilling feeling. It’s heightened by the fact that they’re not staying in hotel rooms or motorhomes, but in their own apartments (well, the drivers who live in Monaco, at least) and can sleep in their own beds.

Lewis was so thrilled he threw all caution out of the window and got a little reckless. It’s not every day that you win the Monaco Grand Prix, much less when your maybe-friend-maybe-boyfriend-definitely-love-of-your-life is there to share the victory. Thinking back, they didn’t do enough sharing when they were teammates.

So. Lewis might’ve kissed Nico on a yacht during a party, and someone might’ve taken a picture and leaked it on Twitter. The picture is blurry, Nico can’t be recognised and Lewis can’t be seen properly either, so he guesses they’re just going to deny it, but the fact that it exists is enough to unsettle him.

He’s in his kitchen preparing breakfast, Nico’s still in bed, sleeping. So he still has time to mentally prepare himself for the chaos that will soon erupt, for the storm Nico is about to wage. He knows it’s coming, it’s just a matter of time.

Nico’s going to be so pissed, he just knows. They haven’t yet defined this thing between them. Lewis himself would say it’s a relationship, but they also agreed to take things slowly in January, and then promptly fucked, and never stopped falling into bed with each other since. At least they’re both on the same page about sleeping with the other exclusively, this time around, and they’ve said ‘I love you’ quite a few times. But still. They haven’t put a label on it, and Lewis doesn’t want this situation to fuck up the best thing in his life. He let it die once before, he’s not willing to kill it another time.

His bell rings. 

He looks at the clock on the wall, confused about who might be at his door at 9 AM on the day after a race, even more so when they have a week off before Canada. His family is in England, and the other drivers aren’t exactly in the habit of showing up at his apartment unannounced. For a second, he thinks it’s Toto coming to yell at him for the picture, but then he remembers that he’s with Jack and Susie and also not responsible for situations like these. Which doesn’t mean he’s off the hook, he will definitely get a stern talking-to from the man, but it’s Nico who decides how to handle things like that, so.

When he opens the door, his jaw almost drops before he gets a grip on himself again. “Good morning, Hamilton,” Vivian greets, a thin smile on her face. “Good morning, Vivian,” Lewis replies, but it comes out more like a question. The woman intimidates him a bit.

“Gonna let me inside?” Wordlessly, Lewis moves aside, allowing Vivian to enter his flat. She’s alone, no girlfriend or children in sight, and Lewis doesn’t know if that reassures him or only unsettles him even more. She takes off her shoes and leaves them next to Nico’s, then walks into the apartment, making her way to the kitchen.

He follows her without saying anything. “Where’s Nico? He’s not home, and they’re already packing up the paddock, so he has to be with you.” Lewis motions towards his bedroom. “Sleeping, still,” he says, “I didn’t want to wake him up yet, so he’s in bed.”

“Well. Even better. I can rip your head off without his presence, then,” she smiles, rubbing her hands together in satisfaction. Lewis gulps. “So. What are your intentions with Nico?” Getting right into it, then. He sighs. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth, Hamilton,” she snaps, impatient. 

Lewis sighs again. “The truth is I want to love him right and be with him. Marry him and have a family with him. Be there for him to support and protect him, to cheer him on. I’d do and be whatever he wants, really. I just want to be with him.” He leans against the kitchen counter, hesitating. “I… I really love him, Vivian. I only want the best for him. I want to make it work, this time. Whatever it takes.”

She smiles. “Good. But if you break his heart, then I’ll break your dick. And nobody, not Nico, not the girls, not Luisa, no driver can stop me.” Lewis laughs quietly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. If I hurt him, I’ll come to you to let you break my dick.” 

Vivian nods, seemingly happy with his answer. “That’s good. You better treat him right and not fuck it like last time. He really, really cares about you, are you aware?” He nods. “And you care about him too, it’s obvious. Even if you’re a reckless idiot who risks outing the two of you before you’re even dating properly.”

Lewis sighs, resting his elbows on the counter and dropping his face into his hands. “I know, Vivian. I was careless. I should’ve been more cautious, I know, but we won, and Nico looked so happy, it would’ve been criminal not to kiss him. I know I shouldn’t’ve, but it was impossible.”

She sighs as if she has to carry the burden of the world on her shoulders. Thinking about it, knowing Nico and their history, she kinda does. 

“You’re an idiot.” He nods his agreement. “Well, your faces can’t be seen. You can take the Neymar route out of this and say it’s some lookalike if people really insist it’s you, but you can deny. It’s safer for some races. But you’ll need to be more careful in the future. Promise me, Hamilton.”

“I promise to be more careful.”

She smiles, and this time it reaches her eyes. “Alright, you have my blessing, then. Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this day since forever, Luisa has been unbearable about it for the past weeks. And the girls want to meet you. Preferably sooner than later.”

“Let’s maybe wait for Nico to wake up,” he says, amused. “By the way, would you like to have breakfast? Coffee? Tea? Juice?” She nods, so he goes to make her a cup of coffee. Just as he’s about to give her the cup, he hears footsteps, and turns around, coming face to face with Nico who’s just in boxers and one of Lewis’ old championship shirts. Hot.

He stares, checking Nico out, and Vivian stares, unimpressed. Nico looks at the both of them in confusion. Neither of them says anything. The silence becomes uncomfortable, tension only broken by Nico turning around and making his way back over to the bedroom.

“Is he in the habit of wearing just your shirts, then?”

“For the love of God, Vivian, please shut up.”

She laughs. “Or what, you’ll pop a boner? Please. Have some decorum. This is a crisis situation. Can’t wait to watch you explain all of it to Nico.”

Way to kill the mood, Sibold. He’s glad for it, though, because she did have a point. Nico is always a massive turn on for him, even more so when he’s in Lewis’ clothes. So thinking about the unpleasant conversation they’re about to have is a bit of a saving grace here.

It dawns on him, in that moment. “Is that why you’re here? To see if he’s alright?” Vivian nods, finally snatching the cup of coffee. Lewis goes to make a second one for Nico. 

A few minutes later, Nico walks back into the kitchen, now wearing light blue jeans and a different shirt. Lewis barely has time to mourn the loss before Nico’s in his space, hands on his shoulders and lips on his. He hums against Nico’s mouth contently, hands settling on his hips to pull him closer. “Good morning, love,” he mumbles between kisses, and Nico replies with “Morning, Lew,” before they go back to kissing.

Vivian interrupts them, clearing her throat. “Lewis Hamilton, giving you my blessing does not mean you get to assault Nico in front of my eyes,” she says, eyebrows raised. Nico looks at Lewis, then kisses him again quickly and reaches behind him to get the full cup of coffee. “Thanks, tesoro,” he winks, then immediately takes a sip. Never getting over the habit of insulting him in foreign languages, it seems.

“Hi, Vivi, not that I don’t like you being here, but what are you doing here?” Nico leans against Lewis, and Lewis loves the warm feeling of his body against his. “Lewis can explain that one,” Vivian shrugs, busying herself with her cup. Nico turns to look at Lewis, who can feel himself folding underneath his scrutinising look.

“Hand me my phone, please, Nico?” The other man looks puzzled but complies and hands him the device. Lewis unlocks it and opens Twitter, tapping on the picture and turning his screen to show it to Nico. Then he watches as the colour slowly drains from his face. Yeah, maybe it’s a good thing Vivian is there. He suspects he might be a bit too anxious about all of this himself to really be a support to Nico.

“We’re fucked,” Nico whispers, promptly setting down his cup and all but collapsing against the kitchen counter. “Hey, none of that, darling,” Lewis says, rubbing a hand over Nico’s back until the man turns to hug him. “I’m sorry, this is my fault, I should’ve thought before I kissed you,” he tells Nico, who clings to him. “They’re gonna question my integrity. Say I’m only TP because we’re fucking, accuse me of favouring you over George, of not being fair, they’re gonna bring 2016 up even more frequently. Lew, this will be utter hell, they’ll make us pay so many fines and won’t even let us go into certain countries. Fuck!”

Vivian settles her hand on Nico’s shoulder, softly scratching over the shirt with her nails. “They’re gonna be annoying, but you’ll get through it. And they won’t know shit, because you’re not confirming anything. Your faces aren’t visible, you can’t be recognised. Plausible deniability, honey,” she says. Lewis kisses Nico’s temple, then rests his cheek against Nico’s head, letting himself draw comfort from his closeness and the smell of his hair. 

“Und er liebt dich, Nico, er wird dich nicht alleine lassen. Ihr seid ein Team, ihr steht das zusammen durch.” Lewis hugs Nico tighter. He really should’ve learned German years ago. “Wir sind nichtmal zusammen, Vivi,” Nico grumbles against the skin of Lewis’ neck, where his face is hidden. “Ich weiß, Schatz, aber er liebt dich. Ihr schafft das, vertrau mir.” He really, really should’ve learned German. Matter of fact, he’ll download Duolingo tonight and start learning. No more secret talks in German. He wants to speak Nico’s mother tongue beyond a few swear words and the numbers one to ten.

“We’ll be fine, love,” he promises, but even to his own ears it sounds weak. His voice is trembling a bit and he presses his nose more into Nico’s hair, inhaling heavily.

“Yes, you will, and if I have to beat up the entire world to make sure of it then so be it,” Vivian says fiercely, and Lewis is so, so glad Nico has a friend like her in his life.

After a while, they separate to actually have breakfast, and Lewis doesn’t comment on Nico’s red eyes the same way nobody comments on his. Vivian announces Luisa will bring over their daughters in a bit so Nico can spend time with his goddaughters while they’re in Monaco and Lewis watches as Nico lightens up at the prospect of seeing the girls.

So Lewis finally gets to meet Nico’s precious princesses, who are very excited about meeting “Sir Lewis” and when he says they can just call him Lewis, they insist on “Sir Lulu”, so he has another nickname by the end of the day. Just as with his nieces and nephews, he melts every time they as much as look at him, and he’s absolutely powerless against their huge eyes. The want inside of him to have children of his own is bigger than ever when he sees the way Nico interacts with the girls, and it is in the moment Nico settles Naila on his lap that Lewis decides he’s retiring if he does the impossible and wins his eighth. Fuck everyone else, he’s having Nico and babies once he reaches that goal. Nothing can stop him.

Nico Rosberg, Canada, June 2024

George wins in Montréal. 

Lewis is third, and based on his responses on the radio, he’s upset about it. And the thing is, Nico gets it. He does. But George won the race fairly, he deserved that win. Lewis was leading for a long time after starting on pole, but then they mistimed his pit stop, and suddenly he had to fight his way back up. And the win was decidedly out of his reach. Even P3 is a miracle in Nico’s opinion, but he knows Lewis thinks about it differently. He’s aware the Brit will have a few choice words from him once they’re all in the conference room for debrief. 

Currently, he’s watching the post-race press conference. Lewis and George are sitting side by side, with Max on George’s other side. There’s a certain tension in the air, one that’s been steadily building ever since media day, and Nico is anxiously waiting for things to blow up. 

“Lewis, what do you have to say about your boyfriend prioritising your younger teammate and making decisions in George’s favour?”

Nico watches as Lewis’ eyebrows raise and his expression sours even further. George looks mildly scared, and Max looks amused by all of it. After dodging the media’s invasive questions about the leak all weekend on, the vultures are attacking properly now, sensing a weak spot they’re more than willing to exploit.

“I don’t follow? Who are you referring to?” 

Yeah, Nico isn’t so sure Lewis is taking the best course of action. They’ve agreed on denying the picture, have informed everyone on the team in case anybody needs to intervene, but they haven’t really planned how they’re going to accomplish that, which is on Nico, but still. 

“I’m referring to a picture that has been circulating ever since the morning after the race in Monaco of two men kissing on a yacht. There’s rumours it’s you and Nico, and I’d like to know what you think about your boyfriend prioritising George during the race and compromising your own.”

Lewis exhales heavily. “Well, first of all, we’re not dating. So there’s no boyfriend who could prioritise George over me, sorry to disappoint. It was a decision taken by our team principal, one I personally do not really agree with but that I have to follow nonetheless. It’s my team, and George’s win brings our team good points, so I am quite happy with the end result. Of course, we need to talk about strategies and pit stops and team orders, but there is no favouritism going on, nor will there be. George won, I didn’t, end of story.”

“So it was not Nico and yourself in the picture?” 

“As far as I know it wasn’t, no.”

Nico snorts. Lewis knows damn well it’s them, and he knows damn well how his words are affecting Nico. The parallelism between Lewis saying they’re not friends in 2014 and Lewis saying they’re not dating in 2024 isn’t lost on him, and despite everything they talked about in the past week, it hits him like a dagger straight to the heart.

Thankfully, the press conference is over soon after that and he doesn’t have to endure any more painful responses. Unfortunately, that means he’s going to see Lewis face to face, and he knows things will blow up. Lewis’ forcefully calm expression is proof enough of that.

So he heads for George first when the two drivers enter the room, freshly showered and changed. “Congratulations again, Georgie! You were absolutely brilliant, great job,” he compliments, hugging his driver. He sees Lewis roll his eyes behind George, and lets go of the younger Brit to snap at the older man.

“Something wrong, Hamilton?”

Lewis scoffs. 

“Something wrong? Something wrong? Nico, you know exactly what you did! What the fuck was that? Huh? Can you explain that shitshow to me?”

He gulps. “I miscalculated. Bono and I misunderstood each other, and I made him bring you in too early. The crew wasn’t ready, I’m sorry, Lewis. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But you really need to think about what you say in public!”

“I need to think about what I say in public? I’m not the one who got fined a few races back for inappropriate commenting during an interview! That was all you, Nico. All you. So if you’re gonna fuck my race and then blame me for shit, then you may go fuck yourself, darling.”

And that’s really just one step too far. 

“If we’re not dating then you don’t get to call me that. Much less when we’re with my team.” He sees Lewis open his mouth, isn’t sure if it’s to argue or apologise, and cuts him off before he can say anything. “Don’t even. Sit your ass down, Hamilton, and learn to respect me for once in your fucking life. It’s me who makes decisions here, and I won’t have you belittle and humiliate me in front of my team.”

He turns and clears his throat. “Alright then, everyone. Let’s debrief.”

                                          ❀❁

Throughout the entirety of debrief, he can feel Lewis’ glare and George’s upset look directed at him. It is suffocating, almost, being watched so closely, but he manages to focus only on the race and block out anything else.

Somehow, they make it through debriefing civilly. They talk about the botched mistimed pit stop, about overtakes and tyre management, about corners taken too sharply and the cars’ reactions. And then it’s over and everyone’s leaving and George is still looking at Nico with big blue eyes and Lewis is making his way over to Nico and the walls are closing in on Nico so he runs.

Unfortunately for him, Lewis catches him by the paddock exit.

“Running away as always then, are you?”

Nico scoffs, “As if you’re any better. You always ran off and fucked some model, left me in the hotel and then won the next race.”

Lewis smiles cruelly. “So me winning isn’t a good thing anymore? Didn’t you tell me in Monaco how good it feels to see me winning? How much it turns you on? Were you lying then, just like you were when we were teammates? Does all of this mean nothing to you? Did you just do this to get into my head aga-”

“Shut the fuck up, Lewis,” Nico hisses, opening the front door of th rental car and getting in. It’s barely a ten minute drive to the hotel they’re staying in, but he knows it’s going to feel like it’s way longer just because they’re in a confined space together. Because Lewis hates driving in traffic and Nico would never make him, not when he’s perfectly capable of doing it himself.

“So you lied?” Lewis asks as he’s tightening his seat belt. Nico just starts the car, exhaling loudly. “Oh, please, grow up, Rosberg. Quit ignoring me and deign me with an answer!”

Nico’s hands on the steering wheel tighten. His knuckles are white. He turns on the blinker and goes left. “I’m driving, Lewis. I’d appreciate it if you could let me concentrate on that now. We’re not in F1 cars in 2016, I don’t feel like crashing right now.” And shit, he didn’t want to go there. Just as he rationally knows Lewis didn’t want to, either. But he still did, and it stings, and now Nico isn’t a single bit better than Lewis. 

“Sorry, Britney, I didn’t mean to disturb the star of F1 while driving,” Lewis scoffs, folding his hands in his lap. If it weren’t for how tightly he’s clenching his jaw and the lines on his forehead, nobody would be able to tell he’s pissed off. “Don’t fucking call me that, you bastard,” Nico hisses, taking a turn a bit too sharply.

“Careful, darling, don’t crash the car, this isn’t racing.”

Nico glares at Lewis. “Will you quit it? Fuck, I knew I should’ve never taken that job. I shouldn’t have listened to Vivi, this is horrible. I’m gonna resign tomorrow. Can’t fucking stand seeing your face every damn day. Jesus Christus, I forgot how unbearable you are.”

He pulls into the hotel’s garage, watching Lewis’ face and seeing that his words hit him. Good. Lewis doesn’t say anything else, just silently gets out of the car and walks to the elevator, pressing the button and tapping his foot against the floor as he waits.

“Did you mean it?” Lewis asks quietly in the elevator, not looking at Nico. “Yes,” Nico snaps, balling his hands into fists. He didn’t, quite the opposite, but if this hurts Lewis, then he better make him believe Nico means every single word. Anything just to make Lewis feel just a fraction of the hurt he’s caused him, the pain he felt at being denied and then humiliated.

Lewis nods curtly, leaving the elevator the second the doors open and storming over to their shared hotel room. Fuck, Nico should’ve booked them their own hotel rooms. On top of the danger of them sharing a hotel room being leaked, especially now, he should’ve known they were bound to clash. It was just too good. He should’ve known it couldn’t last.

And then he’s yanked into the hotel room. Lewis throws the door shut behind him, and then promptly presses Nico against the door, kissing him within an inch of his life. His hands are fisted in Nico’s hair, pulling harshly, and Nico moans involuntarily. He pushes his knee up against Lewis’ crotch and revels in the choked sound Lewis makes. 

Between kisses, Lewis keeps talking, anger evident in his voice. “So you meant it? You regret it? Regret me? Regret us?” Nico nods, smirking at him. “You fucking asshole,” Lewis groans, walking backwards and pulling Nico with him, then spins them around and gives Nico a push that makes him land on the bed, bouncing slightly.

“Clothes off,” Lewis snaps, and okay, they’re doing this, then. Back to 2016 indeed. Fucking hell, he truly thought they were over this. Seemingly not. Nico curses his traitorous body for being so affected by this, for being turned on by Lewis’ aggressiveness. He really hasn’t learned anything in the past decade.

Despite himself, he complies and shrugs off his clothes, leaving them on the floor in a heap and then settles back against the pillows.

“Well? Gonna get on with it, then, dickhead?”

Lewis rolls his eyes, but then he’s discarding his clothes as well, and suddenly he’s looming over Nico, braids falling into his face. Hot. They’re kissing, again, lips moving against each other wetly, aggressively, and a fire lights between them.

“Fucking hell, your mouth, I hate how much I love this,” Lewis presses out, and Nico can’t do anything but agree. “This doesn’t change how I think about anything,” he stresses, watches as Lewis’ beautiful face contorts in evident pain and immediately feels the pang in his heart. He regrets the words right then, wants to take them back, but they’re also true, just not in the way Lewis thinks he means them. This fight doesn’t change a thing about his feelings for Lewis. No matter how mad he is, he also loves him beyond reason.

And then he has Lewis’ hand on his throat, and he moans. “Doesn’t it? Are you unaffected by all of this? Indifferent?” Lewis is mocking him, and Nico hates himself for getting off on it. As quickly as Lewis had grabbed his throat, he’s taking his hand away again, and Nico briefly mourns the loss before he feels the other man spreading his legs.

He’s briefly grateful that they found themselves in a similar position just yesterday. It spares them a lot of time and preparations, and he knows Lewis has come to the same conclusion when he hooks one of Nico’s legs around his waist and leans forward again, directly looking into Nico’s eyes.

“Well. You might not care, but I do. I care so fucking much, and you’re behaving like a complete dick after you fucked up my race. You’re so goddamn selfish, Nico, and you never fucking learn. How are we here again? Why? Because you suddenly have power over me, and you’re using it to get back at me for something you feel I did to you. Fuck you, Nico.”

He highlights his words by, fittingly, fucking into Nico harshly, and the irony would make him laugh if he wasn’t so preoccupied with moaning and scrambling for a response.

“You’re twisting my words, stronzo. I never said I didn’t care, you just assumed and you’re so easy to provoke. Scheiße, Lewis, are you still not over it? Does losing to me still upset you so - ah - much? So much that you have to blame me for everything? Humiliate me? You might have seven championships, and a knighthood, but this is my team, and - oh, fuck - I won’t allow you to disrespect me like that. You’ll show me the respect I deserve, are we fucking clear?”

Maybe his authority is a little undermined with the way Lewis is fucking him harshly and how he’s falling apart under his touch, but he’s so mad and he won’t back down until Lewis apologises.

“Are we fucking clear, Hamilton? You don’t get to treat me like that. Yes, I made a mista-ake, and I owned up to it to you, to the team and to the press. That’s racing, Lewis, it happens. Deal with it, grow some fucking balls.”

Lewis bursts out laughing. Admittedly, the situation they’re in is a little bizarre, and Nico supposes he couldn’t exactly take himself seriously right now either, but Lewis does not get to laugh at him, thank you very much. 

“What the fuck are you laughing at, idiot?”

“Sorry, sorry, gosh, this is so bad right now, but, Nico, do you hear yourself? This is so absurd, I’m sorry, darling,” Lewis wheezes, trying to stifle his laughter. He presses his face into the crook of Nico’s neck, and the other man can feel the light shake of his shoulders, but he does appreciate the sentiment a little. 

“If you could please have a bit more respect for me and not laugh at me all the time it would be appreciated,” he snaps, bringing his hand up to tug at Lewis’ braids harshly.

Lewis bites his collarbone before he lifts himself back up onto his arms, hovering over Nico. “Sorry, Nico, back to business,” he snorts, and against his will, Nico almost laughs at this. Business indeed.

“You’re gonna fucking apologise for disrespecting me,” NIco demands, then leans up a bit to whisper into Lewis’ ear. “Sir.” It’s absolutely on purpose, said to provoke Lewis, mock him a bit, which is so very easy considering he already mentioned the knighthood. 

“So if you’re gonna call me sir maybe you should respect me,” Lewis smirks, decidedly smug about it. And unfortunately for Nico, he can feel a bit of his anger dissipate at the familiar bickering. So he just rolls his eyes at Lewis, making sure the other man sees him do it. Lewis returns the gesture, so Nico does it again. He’s not gonna let Lewis have the last word. Not in this argument.

It’s quiet for a bit. The room is still filled with sounds, but neither of them say a word. And during this relative silence, Nico reflects on today’s happenings. The pit stop is on him, so Lewis’ anger against him is justified. The way he reacted, the things he said to Nico out of anger is uncalled for, however. But Nico himself isn’t better. He brought up their worst season as well, he said things just to hurt Lewis, things he doesn’t think or mean. So this situation is on both of them. However, with how much he’s been bugging Lewis about apologising to him, he knows he has to be the one to say sorry first. Even though he doesn’t feel like it. At all.

“Lewis.”

The other man hums, shifting slightly. 

“Lewis.”

“Nico.”

“I’m sorry.”

He can see the anger bleed out of Lewis’ body, sees as Lewis bites his lip to stop it from trembling, sees the pain in his eyes, closely followed by love. Shit, he loves him so much.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry,” Nico gasps, hand blindly searching for Lewis’ hand in the sheets. He slips his hand underneath Lewis’, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. “Verdammt, Lewis, es tut mir leid, es tut mir leid, I’m sorry, j’suis désolé, es tut mir so leid,” he blabbers, mixing his languages in his sudden desperation.

Lewis squeezes his hand back, then leans down and kisses his cheek. “It’s okay, love, it’s okay. I’m sorry, too, I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry, I acted like such a dick. I’m sorry, Nico, okay? I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes, scrunching up his face at Lewis’ words.

“Fuck, we’re such idiots. I love you, Lewis, I don’t regret it, I could never regret you. I love you so much, I’m so happy to have you, you’re everything to me.” He can’t seem to shut up, speaking a mile a minute, words tumbling out of him and he’s utterly unable to stop. Lewis shuts him up by kissing him, taking his words away, and Nico’s oddly grateful for it. “I love you too, baby, stop fretting, it’s okay. We fucked this one, quite badly, but it’s fine. It’s all good, promise, I’m sorry.”

And just like that, the mood’s shifted. Where they were aggressive before, they’re now soft and gentle, making love instead of fucking out of anger, and he sees how much Lewis loves him, feels it, presses that same love back into Lewis with every slide of their lips against each other.

                                          ❀❁

“So, from your little tantrum earlier, I’m gathering you would actually like for us to be boyfriends?” Lewis asks later, when he’s lying with his head on Nico’s chest, with Nico’s fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes into his back. Nico has half a mind to yell again, protest against the use of the words ‘little tantrum’, but he supposes it isn’t all that off, and while Lewis decidedly wasn’t helping, his main issue was being denied by Lewis, hearing Lewis say they’re not dating when he’d so very much like for them to be, when he was convinced that’s what they were.

With a sigh, he admits it, and from Lewis’ gentle laughter, he guesses Lewis agrees with it. “Well, in that case. Nico Erik Rosberg, would you like to make me the happiest man in the world and be my boyfriend?” He slaps Lewis’ shoulder, and the Brit pushes off his chest to look at his face. 

“I would very much like to be your boyfriend, Lew,” he smiles, taking in Lewis’ smile lines and seeing the love he feels reflected in the other man’s eyes. Oh, how he loves those eyes.

So he guesses that after the shitshow of today, after the unnecessary amount of fighting they did, there’s actually something good coming out of the day. And that doesn’t mean things are perfect, and he supposes they’ll be a bit awkward for at least another three days, but they’re fine. Vivian was right, they’re stronger together.

Lewis Hamilton, Silverstone, July 2024

Around a month later, they’re going stronger than ever before. During the weekend of the Spanish Grand Prix, they were insanely awkward, which kind of puts a bit of a bad light on a GP that in Lewis’ opinion was very entertaining. Fernando Alonso won out of nowhere, Carlos Sainz on the other hand crashed. There was a lot of drama, especially after the crash, so much that a drivers’ debrief had to be called. Lewis had spent most of it forwarding gossip to Nico, and just like that, all remaining tension was gone.

And in Austria, well. They annoyed the Red Bulls. While Max did win the sprint, he wasn’t even on the podium after the race, and considering Spielberg is Red Bull’s home race, it was certainly annoying for the team. For Mercedes, it was an absolute delight. They’re ahead in the constructor’s, by far. Checo’s less-than-subpar performances didn’t help Red Bull at all, and Lewis and George finishing 1-2 only worsened things for the team. Of course, Nico was absolutely delighted. Lewis has learned that his boyfriend isn’t all that fond of Christian Horner, somehow carrying on the rivalry between Toto and Christian. But he’s a thousand times pettier than Toto, and Lewis just knows the Netflix team is eating their fights up, especially after losing Günther Steiner.

Now, in SIlverstone, Lewis is on pole again, and he has every intention of winning his home race. With no offence to George right behind him, or Lando Norris next to his teammate, he really wants to win. Both of them want to win their home GP, but if Lewis has any say in it, they won’t get to.

He gets off the line cleanly, perfectly, and he knows after the first corner that this is going to be a perfect race. The car feels better than it did all season, which is the biggest advantage one could get considering the car was already close to perfect before. 

George is quickly behind him, overtaking Max in a move Lewis will demand he gets to review during debrief. He only saw it very briefly, but it looked absolutely perfect. He can only imagine Max’s cursing right now. Charles and Max are battling with Lando while George tries, and fails, to catch up to Lewis. They’re separated by three seconds, and it’s those three seconds that give him an advantage when he makes his way through the other cars after pitting later than anyone else. 

Before the race, they talked about trying to work with a one-stop, and Lewis told Bono on lap 14 that they can stick to that plan. The tyres feel amazing, he knows how good his tyre management is, and he’s also paying attention to the other drivers. Nobody’s driving like they aim towards a one-stop race, which is just great for him. If he drives it right, he’s winning this easily.

So after just five laps, he’s back to leading, and the tyres are warmed up now, so he just makes the gap between himself and everyone else bigger and bigger. Briefly, he’s reminded of Canada many seasons back, of precious races in Silverstone, and has to bite the straw in his helmet to get his head back on straight and not get too cocky. He knows he’s winning, that nobody is close enough to take this win away from him, but it’s so easy to get too snobby and lose his level head, subsequently ruining his own race. And he’s not having that. Not when he knows this will be one of his most amazing performances ever.

“Lewis, you’re the fastest car on the track by a bit under a second, currently. Might want to attempt the fastest lap, gap to George 4.7 at the moment. Go for it.”

He does. For the next 1:26.406 minutes, he hears absolutely nothing from Bono. He’s fully focused on the lap, as if he’s on a flying lap in qualifying, and the next thing he knows, Bono’s cheering in his ear. “Track record, Lewis! Track record!” Lewis laughs, delighted and absolutely overjoyed. Having the fastest lap at his home circuit really is something very special.

After that, the rest of the race goes by quite smoothly. There’s a yellow flag and safety car for a while after Nico Hülkenberg’s mild crash, but apart from that, nothing happens. Lewis is comfortably in the lead, but he hears from Bono that his teammate is battling with Max. He’s confident that George will win this battle.

And then, he crosses the finish line. It’s a rewarding feeling, winning in Silverstone, even more so now that he’s finally taken the fastest lap on the circuit away from Max, four years later. It’s not personal, but it’s still a triumph. In parc fermé, he hugs George fiercely after seeing his teammate’s car in the P2 spot, and also congratulates Max on P3. If he’s not mistaken, he’s now exactly one win and the fastest lap ahead of Max in the standings, and by now he can’t deny the buzz of excitement anymore. They’re close to the summer break, and if he manages to take that lead into this break, then his chances are high.

Interviewers also remind him of this fact, so at least his maths was correct. He’s not exactly paying attention during the press conference, mentally still on the podium, getting showered in champagne by George and Bono, spraying the celebrating team with the sparkly liquid. Seeing the happy faces surrounding him. Hearing Nico’s overjoyed laugh. Finding his family in the crowd, seeing them talk to Nico after. Taking the trophy. Their anthems. Yeah, he could care less about the ongoing media session.

“Of course I’m more than just happy with how today’s race went. Everything just really came together, the team, the car, the track… It was just one of those days, you know? Where you get in the car and know, this is it. Today’s mine. It was just magical, really. I’m beyond grateful,” he says, smiling into the reporter’s direction, all while wishing that it would just end finally. He has a little post-win makeout session waiting for him, he’s impatient. Just like the old days, just better.

George must be able to sense his impatience, judging by his amused expression. Even Max keeps smirking into Lewis’ direction, makes a few comments about “special celebrations” he’s sure Lewis will enjoy once they leave the paddock.

Oh, if only Max knew just how right he is.

                                         ❀❁

Thankfully, the press conference ends soon after, and Nico keeps debrief short, so they can head out faster than anticipated, meeting Lewis’ family in the paddock.

“Congratulations, son!” Anthony exclaims, hugging Lewis close. From the corner of his eye, Lewis spots Nicholas and Nico hugging briefly before Carmen gets her hands on Nico, and the rest of his family swarm around them. He goes and hugs all of them, smiles and thanks them, talks with his family for a while.

“I’m so happy you’re back together finally,” his mum says to him, smiling at Lewis brightly. He doesn’t bother explaining they never were together before, doesn’t question how she knows they are now, just lets her hug him and fuss over the both of them.

When they do finally break away and leave for good, most of the adrenaline has already worn off, and Lewis finds himself too tired to go out to celebrate in a club. He texts Bono to inform him he’ll be sleeping and wishes them a lot of fun for the team celebrations, telling him to keep an eye on George, knowing his teammate does sometimes go a bit wild after amazing results. Then, he tugs Nico into his flat once they reach it, and simply hugs him in the middle of the hall, face tucked into Nico’s neck.

“I’m proud of you, Lewis,” Nico whispers against his temple, pressing sweet kisses against his skin. Lewis hums, hugs him even closer and relaxes into Nico’s arms, cherishing the feeling of home it brings him. He’s so entirely content, he can feel himself getting properly sleepy.

“C’mon, let’s get you into bed, mein Schatz,” Nico says softly, rubbing Lewis’ back. He can’t explain the extreme tiredness, knows he’d usually be out partying, but he lets Nico walk him into the bedroom and tug off his clothes without protest. Thankfully, he already showered directly after the press conference, feeling entirely too sweaty and sticky to stay like that for any longer. So he just falls into bed and lets his eyes flutter shut, waiting for Nico to join him.

“Hey, you,” he hums when he feels the bed dip beside him, shuffling closer until he’s pressed against Nico. His boyfriend chuckles, wraps his arms around Lewis and kisses his head over and over again, tracing shapes into Lewis’ shoulder. Lewis settles his head into a more comfortable position on Nico’s chest, presses a light kiss to the exposed skin, and allows himself to drift off. The last thing he hears is Nico whispering “I love you, my champion,” and he cuddles even closer before falling asleep.

Nico Rosberg, Brackley, August 2024

It’s been exactly a year since Toto’s phone call. The phone call that changed Nico’s life forever, and brought him back to the loves of his life, Lewis and racing. When in August of 2023 he felt wary, out of place in the factory, it’s now almost home again, and with Lewis waiting for him in the flat, he feels oddly normal. At peace. Something he almost thought he’d never feel.

He does miss his goddaughters a lot, and he truly wishes he could see them more than he does. Everytime they’re in Monaco and he visits the girls, or they visit, he sees just how much he’s missed out on, and it’s crazy to see just how fast children grow. He imagines it’d be worse if they were still younger, babies or toddlers, and he thinks about how much worse it must’ve been for Seb to miss out on so many milestones with his kids.

But truly, Nico is so happy.

It’s still a day of work at the factory for him before he has a full week off, and he’s flying away with Lewis during that time. They bickered a lot about whether they’d take the risk and go on a holiday or just stay in their flat the entire time, but while they do travel lots due to the packed calendar, they spend all their remaining time locked away in either a hotel room or either of their flats, so in the end they decided to go to a private resort in Thailand.

Nico suspects Lewis asked Alex Albon for recommendations, and while he’s a bit wary about their relationship being common knowledge for everyone, he doesn’t care too much about hiding it either. And well, the chances of Alex already knowing more than they’re aware of thanks to George are rather high.

So they have a decently-sized resort just for themselves, and there’s nobody else coming there for the five days they’re spending in Thailand. The fridge will be stocked, and they’ll take care of everything themselves. Nobody will disturb them, they can swim and go for walks and just be together without any fear. Nico simply cannot wait for it.

Now, he’s wrapping up his work for the day, responding to a few more emails and writing to.do lists for every day for the team to go through in his absence. He knows he won’t exactly be physically missed at the factory considering he’s away for a good portion of the normal work routine for the majority of their employees, but then he’s always available for them to call him. He’ll try not to check anything work related during their trip, but if anything comes up, he’ll be there. And either way, he has full faith in his team. They’re the best team in the world.

With Lewis 18 points in the lead after Spa and George in P4, everybody’s in high spirits and very motivated to continue just like that after the break.

Nico sends off a final email, then turns off his computer and gets off his chair, making his way towards the door. He leaves his office, and then walks over to the main room where he knows quite a bunch of people are to bid them goodbye.

Once he’s out of the factory, he lets his mind drift back off. Lewis is at home, packing their bags and checking if they brought too many things from Monaco. When you’re always travelling and have multiple flats you lose track of which clothes are kept in which closet, but he knows if anybody knows something about clothes, it’s Lewis. He has to take the leap of faith of allowing his boyfriend to coordinate his outfits, because he simply does not have the time to pack before they leave early in the morning.

Instead of finding Lewis in the bedroom, surrounded by clothes, he sees him sitting at the table in the dining and living room, intently studying something on the table Nico can’t see. When he hears Nico’s footsteps, he flips it over and gets up to walk over to him. “Hey, Lew,” Nico greets casually, trying not to frown at being kept in the dark. “Hello, Nico, great to see you again,” Lewis winks, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly. Nico lets himself melt into the kiss, presses his hands to Lewis’ cheeks and savours the feeling of love surrounding them.

“What’re you doing?” He can’t quite stop himself from asking, too curious and too aware of how he and Lewis always purposely hid sheets of paper from the other filled with bullshit information about the race to hopefully get an advantage over the other. Lewis blushes, mumbles “Nothing,” and turns away from Nico. He frowns.

“Nothing? Want to show me?” Lewis shakes his head. “Not really, no. Not yet, at least.” Well, that’s placating enough for Nico to drop it. If he’ll be shown at a later point in time, he’s content with that. “So how’s packing going?” He asks instead, knowing Lewis will take the change of topics.

“All done! We planned well, babe. Nothing was missing, except for toothbrushes, so I bought some. Should be everything, I think.”

Nico goes to kiss Lewis again, holding his waist. “Well, then that’ll be a perfect holiday,” he whispers against Lewis’ lips, smiling brightly. Lewis mirrors his smile, eyes shining with happiness.

“Just a long flight to get through,” he sighs, dropping his forehead against Nico’s shoulder. “Don’t be like that, we’re flying with a private jet, idiot. Bad for the carbon dioxide emissions, good for our privacy. Lots of time to sleep!”

As he mentions sleep, he has to stifle a yawn, and Lewis openly laughs at him, pulling him into the direction of the bedroom. “Well, then, my love. Let’s get an early night so we don’t sleep through our alarm tomorrow,” he laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and flopping onto the mattress. Nico follows his example, but sets multiple alarms on both of their phones first. Just to be safe.

                                          ❀❁

Of course, they only get up after the fourth alarm. Nobody wants to get up at 3 AM to drive to London to then spend forever on a plane, after all.

Yet, despite their sleepiness, they’re both weirdly excited and in a good mood, albeit a bit grumpy. 

On the way to London, Lewis drives Nico mildly insane by going on and on about how he feels bad they’re taking a jet and how they’re further damaging the environment, until Nico snaps and informs him Taylor Swift kept flying across America and half the globe during her tour just to go back to New York whenever she felt like it. He has nothing against Taylor, listened to her songs quite a lot before he got together with Lewis, and he knows his boyfriend has a lot of respect for her as an artist, so he knows it’s an argument that will shut him up. It thankfully does, but that also means Lewis dozes off in the car and Nico has to drive in complete silence. Which he usually likes, but not at 3:30. 

“Lewis. Lewis. Wake up, Schatz, we’re at Heathrow.”

Lewis just grumbles, but makes no attempts at opening his eyes. So Nico gets out of the car and takes their luggage out of the trunk before he makes his way to the other side of the car and opens the door. “C’mon, Lew. I’m not carrying your heavy ass to the jet. Get the fuck out the car.” When that doesn’t work either, Nico threads a hair into Lewis’ curls and pulls. It gets him a loud yelp, his boyfriend’s eyes snapping open and a sharp glare.

“You didn’t want to get up,” Nico shrugs. “Now get out of my car, tesoro.”

He complies, wordlessly grabbing the handles of their suitcases and throwing the car door shut. Nico laughs, bumps his shoulder against Lewis’ and then takes the rest of their luggage, setting off towards the jet. Lewis follows behind, grumbling about rude wake-up calls.

They board the jet, allowing the staff to store their suitcases and bags safely. “Jeez, Lew, how much did you pack?” Nico teases when he watches a flight attendant tuck away the fourth bag. “The clothes are in the suitcases, the rest is just essentials,” Lewis shrugs, but doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he settles into a seat, gesturing for Nico to shit down next to him, and then promptly secures Nico’s seatbelt.

“You know I can do that myself, yeah?” Nico asks, but Lewis just smiles at him sunnily and pecks his lips before he leans back against his own seat.

It takes a bit longer before they’re starting, even longer before they’re allowed to take their seatbelts off and move over to the bed that’s on the other side of the jet. Nico’s pushed onto his back almost immediately, and Lewis is on top of him within seconds, pressing his face into Nico’s neck and slotting a leg in between his. “Goodnight, love,” he whispers with a kiss against the exposed skin, and then goes back to sleep.

Once again, Nico’s amazed at his ability to just fall asleep whenever he feels like it, an ability that he doesn’t really possess. Instead, he cards his fingers though Lewis’ hair, cherishing the feeling of his natural hair underneath his fingers. It’s soft and smells very nice as he buries his nose into Lewis’ curls, and the longer he keeps up the action, the more sleepy he himself grows. 

When he wakes up again, Lewis is no longer on top of him. Instead, Nico’s head rests in his lap, and he feels one of his boyfriend’s hands softly scratching his scalp. “Hey, love, sleep well?” Lewis hums when his eyes fall onto Nico’s face, and Nico nods, yawning and stretching. Lewis chuckles softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. Nico notices that his hair is now pulled back into a bun, and he mourns the loss of curls framing Lewis’ face. He really has to convince him to leave it open all day long in Thailand. 

“How much longer?” He questions. Lewis shrugs. “Dunno. Definitely a couple more hours. I’ve been awake for two now, you’ve been sleeping for about four, I suppose? You can go back to sleep, darling, I don’t mind,” he says, stroking Nico’s cheek tenderly. “I’ll wake you up in time, don’t worry. I’m not forgetting you still have to eat,” he smiles down at him, and Nico can feel something flutter in his chest.

“Love you,” he mumbles, turning sideways to press his face against Lewis’ stomach. “I love you, too,” Lewis replies, then starts running his fingers over Nico’s scalp again. There’s the sound of a pen being tapped against paper, and quiet music in the background. He’s asleep within seconds.

The next time he wakes up, it’s to fingers stroking his cheek. “Wake up, love,” Lewis’ voice says, and Nico grumbles. It makes his boyfriend laugh lowly, and tickle him lightly. Nico squirms, but it does its job of waking him up properly. 

“What time is it?” Lewis shrugs again, as if he isn’t wearing a watch. So Nico sits up begrudgingly, taking Lewis’ hand and twisting his arm to take a look at the watch adorning his wrist. “Eleven? Lewis, why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” 

Lewis leans forward to kiss him gently. “You needed the sleep, pretty. And we’ll be flying for quite a bit still, so don’t worry about that. I just thought you need some food now, that’s all. Don’t want to fuck up your schedule too bad,” he explains. 

Nico looks over to the little table in front of the two seats. There’s two plates on it, and he doesn’t know if he should curse or kiss Lewis. He settles for both.

They kiss a bit more, then get off the bed and back to the seats to eat. Nico tucks his legs onto the seat, resting his chin on top of his left knee as he lazily pushes the food around on his plate with the fork.

He hears Lewis sigh before the fork is taken out of his hand and filled with food that Lewis holds in front of his mouth. “Eat, Nic,” he says, voice authoritative enough that Nico can’t help but do as he’s told. “Your schedule isn’t much different to how it normally is when we get days off, love, it’s all good,” he reassures. The easy way with which he sees through Nico proves to him that not only did Lewis do lots of therapy of his own, he also paid attention the two times he was granted access to Nico’s own sessions. Shit, he loves that man.

“I’m not a baby, Lewis,” he complains, half expecting him to say something cheesy like no, but you’re my baby, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just laughs, drops Nico’s fork back onto his plate and then picks his own back up and transfers it to his left hand to hold Nico’s with his right. “Eat,” he says, and Nico sighs, but sets his legs back onto the ground and does just that.

Ten minutes later, with the plates gone, Lewis pulls a bag up onto the table and gets out a bunch of board games that Nico promptly puts away again. “We’re not playing any of these on our own. It’ll be a war,” he reminds Lewis, who laughs and instead takes out books. Crossword puzzles, magazines, actual books. Nico simply stares at him, a bit incredulous.

“Lewis, tesoro, we’re not travelling with the kids, you know that, right?” His boyfriend nods, amused. “Got to keep you entertained, though, I’ve stuff to do and if you don’t, then you’ll do things for work, and this is supposed to be relaxing for you.” Honestly, Nico can’t argue with that logic. 

Somehow, the remaining time of the flight passes as well. Nico spends some of it actually doing crossword puzzles, some of it trying to see what Lewis is doing (impossible) and some of it staring out of the window. All the while, he has one of Lewis’ airpods in his ear, listening to Lewis’ carefully curated holiday playlist.

When they step out of the plane, it’s to a pleasant warmth and soft sunshine.

“It’s beautiful!” Lewis declares, tugging his half of the luggage behind him while pulling on Nico’s hand, forcing him to hurry behind him to the car. 

He gets to see Lewis marvel at the scenery for the entirety of the car ride, and then Lewis keeps gushing about the beauty of the resort once they reach it, and insists they do a little tour of it. ‘A little tour’ turns into a two-hour walk until they’ve seen everything, so when they’re finally in the house, they’re both tired again and decide to just turn in for the day.

                                         ❀❁

It’s on their third day in Thailand, sitting on the warm sand of the beach, braiding flowers into Lewis’ hair the way he’s done so many times before with his goddaughters, that his boyfriend asks the question Nico himself has been pondering for quite a while.

“Do you think we should talk about our time in F1 again?”

Nico sighs, picks up another flower and starts another braid. “It might be beneficial, yes. Do you want to do it now?” He sees Lewis shrug. “I don’t really care. I’ve just been wondering about how much stuff is still unsaid between us, and if we should talk it through.”

“We probably should. But for us as a couple, for our relationship, not for the team. Cause I think we’re working together pretty well.”

Lewis hums in agreement, drawing nonsensical shapes into the sand. “Yeah. D’you know I keep seeing edits on TikTok?” Nico snorts, “Do you, now? I didn’t even know you had TikTok?” 

“Yeah, I do. It’s kinda fun, actually. So I saw an edit, and I saw our press conference, how teary you looked, and flashbacks to all the times we were not so kind to each other, and your retirement announcement, and then happy memories.”

Nico undoes the braids, carefully plucking the flowers out of Lewis’ hair until the last petal is freed from the curls, then he stands up to sit down in front of Lewis to actually look at him. “It wasn’t all bad. We were just ruthless, and careless, and cruel, and our priorities and focus shifted too much.”

“They’ve shifted again quite a huge amount,” Lewis notes. Nico agrees, because it’s true. “All we cared about was winning, because we both had things to prove.” 

Lewis looks down onto his lap. “I feel like I still do. Especially after the lost championship.”

“You know you could’ve had eight if I hadn’t won mine as well, right? Before Max won it from you.” Lewis looks back at him. “Yes. I do. I thought about it in Abu Dhabi, in 2021. That was when I realised that I truly am happy for you, and that I’m so proud of you for winning. I… envied Max a lot. Not just then, I still kind of do. After I lost, I resented him a bit. I didn’t really think he deserved the trophy. I viewed it as mine. Not anymore, I’ve my eyes set on this one. But then I thought about our championship fight, and I realised that I never thought of your trophy as mine. From the second it was in your hands, I saw it as yours. I knew it was yours, and I’m so happy you won that year. I’m really proud of you, love.”

Nico takes a sip of water from his bottle so he doesn’t start crying, or kiss Lewis senseless. “I also thought of his trophy as yours,” he admits. He probably shouldn’t be saying this, as a team principal, but this is his boyfriend, damnit. “Thank you for saying that. I guess we were so focused on defeating each other that we lost sight of each other,” he muses. Lewis agrees, inching closer and taking Nico’s hand, thumb drawing circles into his skin.

“It was so good in the beginning,” Lewis muses. “We were jealous of each other even then,” Nico snorts. He’s aware of Lewis’ hidden jealousy after Nico got his seat, he himself was barely able to conceal the jealousy he felt in 2008. “It was always racing first, everything else second.”

Lewis laughs quietly. “Love, somehow I feel like it should still be that way. We both work in F1, it’s still very important for us.”

“Not more important than we are,” Nico says firmly. “Look, this conversation alone is proof of how much we’ve matured, how much therapy we’ve done and how much we’ve grown as men. Years ago, we would’ve been yelling, crying and insulting each other. We’ve come a long way, Lew. That’s way it works now, and didn’t work before”

They’re silent for a few minutes. Somehow, Nico was expecting the conversation to be a lot worse, a lot more emotionally draining.

“You know, if I win the championship this season, I’m retiring,” Lewis says suddenly, looking at Nico. His thumb is still drawing circles into the skin of his hand. 

Nico freezes. 

“What,” he says, voice flat. “I’m retiring if I win the championship this year,” Lewis repeats, squeezing his hand softly and smiling.

“No.”

Lewis frowns, “What do you mean, no? I decided that in Monaco already, I’ve been thinking about it, this is a definite decision. I’m retiring after the eighth, and it’s probably gonna be this year.”

Nico stays silent for a while, processing. As weird as it sounds, he’s never imagined a world where Lewis isn’t racing anymore. In his mind, and in many others’ as well, Lewis is the face of F1. Imagining the sport without him is just impossible.

“I’ve really thought about it a lot, you know. Win the championship, retire, accompany you to races, make music, spend time with Roscoe, get into fashion, support the younger drivers, get married, have kids. I really want that, Nico. And I think it’s almost time for that.”

So Lewis really has been thinking about it for a while. That’s quite… Hold on. “Did you just say get married and have kids?!” Lewis laughs, head thrown back. “Yes. I’m serious about this. We both know this is a forever thing. It was always supposed to be you and me.”

That’s oddly sweet. But as sweet as Lewis’ declarations are, and as much as Nico agrees with what he’s saying, he still can’t wrap his head around the idea of Lewis retiring. It sounds so wrong.

“Hey, Nico. You know that doesn’t mean I’m gone from the world? Because you’re stuck with me for life. We’ve been together so much all the time anyway, we might as well move my stuff down to your flat, in Monaco. And I’ll always be a part of Mercedes. You’re the boss, you get to decide stuff. If you decide you want me there, I’ll be there. Always. We’re in this together. Retiring just means I’ve got more time for us, and to support you.”

He leans forward and kisses Nico softly until he melts into Lewis’ hands on his cheeks. “You know, we’re winning this championship as a team, you and I. It’ll be our championship. And I think that once we win, it’s time for me to take a step back and finally let you have the spotlight. I’ll be right there to support you, and I’ll do whatever I want. It’ll be you breaking records with the team with me right next to you.”

If Nico’s honest, it sounds like the perfect future to him. Married to Lewis, with his husband and their kids watching the races, seeing Lewis start fashion brands or release music, become a full-time activist, walks with Roscoe and the kids, their kids playing with his goddaughters… It’s perfection.

“We’d need to move out of Monaco to adopt,” he says. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t say anything else, but it’s the one thing on his mind that puts a bit of a shadow on that dream. “Your office is in Brackley, anyway,” Lewis replies easily, unbothered. “Monaco is nice, but England has always been home to me. So we buy a nice house around that area and just go to Monaco for the holidays,” he shrugs. He makes everything sound so easy. But then again, Vivian and Luisa live in Monaco and they have the girls with them. A little unofficially, but it works. So maybe it truly is that easy.

“We better make sure you get that championship then, huh, mon cœur?” He writes LH44 into the sand, then draws a little crown on top of the number and highlights it with an exclamation mark. Lewis giggles at his newest piece of art, then rests his hands on Nico’s thighs and kisses him deeply. 

“We’ll win this year,” Nico whispers against his lips. “I know,” Lewis replies, kissing him again. “I know, love. I know.”

Lewis Hamilton, Zandvoort, August 2024

The first race weekend after summer break is always buzzing with energy.

Everyone’s well-rested and motivated, hyped to be back and hungry for points. Especially the drivers who made an elaborate retirement plan with their team principal during the time they had off.

After that talk at the beach, they didn’t mention Lewis’ decision for the rest of the trip. Instead, they went on more discovery tours, talked with George on the phone who insisted on asking Alex for tips once he found out where they’re staying (he didn’t listen when Lewis tried telling him they had his help for the planning), met a nice local woman who gave them the best treats ever when Lewis insisted they actually see the nearest village, and spent a lot of time in the sea.

On the plane ride back, Nico brought it up again. Obviously, Lewis’ opinion hadn’t changed a bit, and so they started planning, dreaming, imagining. The plan does depend on him winning the championship this year, but he’s fairly certain he will. And if not, he can do it in 2025, and retire after that. But he’s winning this year. He can feel it in his bones, and in the car.

So Lewis is even more hyped and focused coming out of summer break this year. Following Charles’ win in Spa with him in second and Max in third place, he has a blessed 18 point gap to Max still, and he intends to let it grow bigger.

He’s in a press conference with Oscar, Charles, Fernando and Alex, and the interviewers have not gotten even the tiniest bit more creative in the month off they had. Seriously, they had a month to think of better questions and still all they can come up with is “Lewis, are there still tensions within your team considering the team principal - driver lineup you have?” as if Lewis hasn’t responded to that particular question at least five times?

The biggest blessing is the absolute mess of people he has on the couch with him. Charles and Alex are giggly, Oscar makes dry, sarcastic comments that send the other two into another fit of giggles, and Fernando and Lewis exchange fondly exasperated looks.

“Listen, you don’t ask me and Oscar about our relationship with Alpine in every interview either, do you? Leave Lewis and Nico alone, honestly,” Fernando says after the third variation of “how is the relationship between you two” and Lewis has never liked him more. “We’re all survivors, here,” Oscar adds. Alex and Charles break out into giggles again. 

“Yeah, Charles took that trip to Lourdes he talked about last year this August,” Alex teases. Charles splutters, smile wiped from his face, and this time it’s just Alex giggling. Lord, Lewis hopes he never has to deal with the entirety of the twitch quartet together. 

“Well, Alex here declined another Red Bull offer during the break,” Charles shoots back. Just like that, their roles are switched again. “A bit of professionalism, please?” The FIA official says, sending the entire couch into a new round of laughter.

Eventually, they pull themselves together.

“Lewis, how do you rate your chances of winning in the habitat of the lion?” Lewis has to stifle his laughter at that question and takes a second too long to answer it. In that second, Alex has already leaned over to stage-whisper “Oh god, we’re in the habitat of the lion” at Charles, and the two of them are gone again. 

“I think I rate my chances about as high as I did at every race before. The audience doesn’t influence me, and it’s just the performance that matters. So I think I have a fair chance of winning the race, as does everyone else with a car competitive enough to fight for the podium.”

Charles glares at him a little, but it truly wasn’t a dig at Ferrari. The man has already been on the podium multiple times this year, and is yet again the winner of Spa, so it cannot be a dig at Charles. He winks at the Monégasque, who scrunches his face up in that way of his that’s supposed to be a wink. Lewis can already see the compilation of “Charles Leclerc winking” circulating on Social Media later.

Thankfully, the interview ends soon after, and they’re finally allowed to leave. Alex and Charles continue giggling the entire time they’re walking away from the media room, causing Oscar, Fernando and Lewis to exchange heavy looks. “Seriously, kids, who gave you sugar before we came here?” Fernando asks, but apart from more laughter he doesn’t get a proper response.

“They’re always like that,” Lewis eventually comments, because he remembers seeing George with his friends, and it was just as chaotic. His teammate is a bit less giggly, but only barely. “It’s like being back in high school,” Oscar notes. The other two glare at them, but make no moves to rejoice their claims, instead walking off just like high schoolers. Lewis snorts, then bids Oscar and Fernando goodbye, making his way back to the Mercedes motorhome.

On his way there, he bumps into the Netflix crew who are once again stalking the paddock. He wishes he had his scooter with him, but at least they’re not scheduled for a weekend of stalking from the film crew. Their weekends are Silverstone and Brazil, and Lewis suspects they’ll be hanging around in Abu Dhabi as well, if it comes to another showdown. And if a crash happens, which it thankfully hasn’t yet. He hopes it’ll stay that way.

“Hiya, Nics,” he greets Nico when he walks into his office, closing the door behind him. His boyfriend raises an eyebrow at him. “Any special reason you’re here?” Lewis shakes his head, flopping down on the couch. “Nope. Just that your couch is comfier than any other around here, and media was tiring. I need a nap,” he complains. Nico laughs.

“I’m working, Lew,” he reminds, but otherwise doesn’t show signs of kicking Lewis out. “I’ll be really quiet, you won’t even notice I’m here,” he promises. “And if I have any confidential conversations while you’re in my office?” Lewis shrugs, “Then I’ll put in my AirPods if it’s reassuring to you.”

He truly doesn’t care about anything, he just wants to nap without ruining his back for the weekend, and Nico’s couch is the only place in the paddock that allows him to. “Fine, but I don’t want to hear a single word from you, tesoro, are we clear?” He nods, grinning at Nico brightly as he takes out his AirPods and turns on some music. “Love you,” he winks, then closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, he immediately feels someone staring. “What?” He grumbles, taking one AirPod out. “Nothing, nothing. I’m just thinking,” Nico replies, but doesn’t look away. “Good nap?” Lewis nods, sitting up and leaning against the armrest, facing Nico.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Nico keeps looking at him, with something in his eyes Lewis can’t put a name on. “George was here a few minutes ago. Why didn’t you tell me everyone’s still asking about us?” Lewis sighs, “Because I don’t care. We’re proving we can work together every weekend, the rest is none of their business. I tell them we’re fine, because we are, and then that’s it.”

His boyfriend’s expression doesn’t change. “What else?” Lewis asks, getting up and walking over to Nico’s desk, settling his hands on his shoulders and gently massaging. Nico’s head falls back against his stomach.

“Dunno. Just got a feeling that things will be a bit tougher from now on. I can’t explain it, I just feel like something’s brewing.”

Lewis brings one hand up to Nico’s head to softly card through his hair. “Listen to me, love. We’re F1 drivers, we’re a team, you’re a splendid team principal. It’s been really amazing so far, and even if it does get tougher, we’ll manage just fine. Promise.” He runs his thumb over Nico’s forehead, smoothing over the deep lines that have formed there until they disappear.

Then he leans down to press his lips against Nico’s forehead, moving downwards until he meets his lips. Even with Nico tilting his head back, the angle is awkward, and not nearly as romantic as movies make it seem to be. Still, it’s reassuring for both of them.

A sharp knock on the door startles them. Lewis immediately steps back while Nico runs a hand through his hair, and Nico spins the chair slightly so he’s half facing Lewis, half facing the door, to make their positions appear a bit more professional. 

“Yes?” Nico calls, and they watch as George walks into Nico’s office once again. “Hey, I know I just left, but I have a question… Oh, hey, Lewis, slept well?” 

It’s such an absurd situation Lewis can’t help but laugh. That entire day is so weird he’s almost convinced he made it up.

He leans down once again to kiss Nico briefly before he leaves the office, ruffling George’s hair on his way out, leaving the two of them to sort through whichever question his teammate has. He should go and prepare for the first practice session tomorrow. After all, he has a race to win on Sunday.

                                         ❀❁

Max wins his home Grand Prix. While Lewis is consistently on the podium, he doesn’t win the next two races either. Instead, it’s Charles who wins in Monza, and Max who wins Baku. That coupled with Max’s fastest lap in Azerbaijan puts them equal on points for Singapore. And Lewis now sees Nico’s point.

Nico Rosberg, Singapore, September 2024

He’s very, very tense by the time it’s time for the race.

What he told Lewis in Zandvoort had proven to actually be true. They’re not struggling, but neither of his drivers have won since the break, and even though it’s only been a month, he’s a bit stressed.

Now, with George on P2 and Lewis directly behind him, he does have hope their little dry streak will come to an end. But it’s Max Verstappen on pole, and he’s been at the top of the leaderboard throughout all three practice sessions as well, so everything seems like he’s finally breaking his Singapore curse. And while Nico is happy for him on a personal level, from his point of view as Mercedes’ team principal, he can’t really be content with that. 

So he’s tense when the lights go out, when they approach turn one, and even after George has gotten in front of Max at the beginning of the fourth lap he’s still tense. His team thankfully doesn’t comment on it, and it doesn’t seem like his nervousness is rubbing off on them. Instead, they’re all in good spirits and highly focused.

It’s a good race. The overtakes are clean, and George is still leading, even after the first round of pit stops. Lewis is battling with Charles and Oscar, with Lando and Lance behind them. They keep that order for another seven laps, George defending multiple attacks from Max while Lewis tries fending off the drivers behind him and getting closer to Max.

And then, suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, Max and George collide. They spin off the track and hit the barriers, rather abruptly. Immediately, Nico knows their race is over, turns to George’s engineer next to him on the pitwall for information on George. He also keeps an eye on the screen connecting him to the other teams for information on Max.

“Shit, that looked brutal. Are they okay?” Lewis’ voice filters in. Bono responds, telling him they don’t have information yet and promising to keep him updated. “Red flag, red flag,” he says not even twenty seconds later as they all stare at the screen intently, eyes trained on the two drivers getting out of their ruined cars. George is moving stiffly, his entire body tense and visibly uncomfortable, whereas Max stumbles around. 

“George says his back hurts a lot,” Marcus tells him when the cars start filing into the pit lane. “We’ll take him to hospital,” Nico decides, watching his younger driver get into the medical car with a hand pressed to his lower back. Max doesn’t appear to be much better. He has to be supported by someone from the medical team, but can still get into the car. Neither of their helmets are off yet.

Lewis reaches them in the pitlane before George does, immediately turning to Nico for info. “Back pain, I’ll have him checked by Aleix and then make Aleix take George to hospital to get him properly checked out,” Nico informs him, watching as Lewis’ face scrunches up in sympathy.

He’ll be leading when the race restarts, but it’s never nice to win after a crash when someone got injured. Nico also tells him the little knowledge he has on Max’s situation, and then George is in the pit lane as well, walking towards the garage, so he gets up and goes there, as well. Lewis follows behind him. 

“Georgie! How you doing?” Nico asks when he reaches his driver. Lewis takes George’s helmet from him and hands it to a nearby mechanic to put it away. George’s face is obviously pained as he shrugs, so Nico motions for Aleix to come over and escort him to his driver’s room for a little checkup. “Hospital if you’re even the tiniest bit concerned,” he stresses, then ruffles George’s hair gently and pulls Lewis away who’d been talking to his teammate with a hand on his arm.

“They’ve almost finished cleaning up, the race will restart in five minutes,” Nico informs Lewis, shooing him off towards his car. “Go get ‘em, Lew," he tells him just as he turns away to re-take his place.

For the rest of the race, he’s just as tense as he was before. His bad feeling had proven to actually be true, and he doesn’t like it one bit. The anxiety he’s feeling now is just worry for George, though, instead of a sense of doom, waiting for something to happen. So at least he can hope nothing else will go wrong.

Lewis wins the race in front of Oscar and Charles, and Nico’s right there in the middle of their team for the podium celebration. His boyfriend tells the media today’s win is for George, and Nico has to tell them his other driver is currently undergoing a thorough examination at a nearby hospital.

Just as he’s forwarding the little information he has to the interviewer he’s talking to, he hears Christian Horner give an interview of his own, and immediately all of his defences jump up. “Yeah, we’ve watched the replay countless times, and it’s clearly George’s fault. It was obvious that Max was faster, George should’ve just given up the position and not defended too hard. That was reckless. It’s his fault that Max is currently in hospital, and I’ll have words with Mercedes later. Typical Mercedes behaviour.”

“Sorry, what?” Nico says loudly, catching Horner’s attention. He knows the man is protective of Max, but it doesn’t give him the right to talk about George, or anyone else, like that unprovoked. Toto truly was right about RBR’s team principal.

Horner turns to him, and immediately rolls his eyes. Nico scowls. “You can also have words with me now, if you’d like,” he says, voice sickeningly sweet and dripping with saccharine venom. He’s protective too, thank you very much.

“I’d rather we do this with less cameras present,” Horner says, visibly uncomfortable. “Oh yeah?” Nico scoffs. “Because to me it looks like you’re more than willing to badmouth my driver for absolutely no reason. In front of quite a few cameras.” He gestures towards the cameramen and interviewers surrounding them. “And I won’t have you talking about my drivers like that when the stewards classified it as a racing incident. It’s just like you to talk badly about people when things don’t go your way, and I’m quite fed up with it,” he snaps, raising an eyebrow at Horner as he waits for him to reply.

He doesn’t, instead he turns back towards the cameras. “As I was saying, I’ll be talking to the Mercedes team later and giving them a piece of my mind for endangering my driver like that. Reckless, dirty racing, that’s what this is.” Nico’s jaw drops, and he has to press his nails into his palm to stop himself from lunging at Christian.

“Nico Rosberg called it a racing incident, and our information aligns with that. The stewards have classified the collision as a racing incident, and agreed to take no further action against either of them. Do you disagree with this decision?” Nico watches intently as Horner’s face twists in displeasure. “Nico Rosberg does not yet have much experience as a team principal. He’s an F1 champion, but he’s only been on this job for nine months, so he’s still making mistakes. He’ll learn.”

It’s so belittling Nico wants to yell. “That wasn’t the question, Mister Horner,” the interviewer says. She’s now Nico’s favourite journalist. “It’s still relevant,” Horner shrugs, “He’s inexperienced. It happens.”

“Nico, do you think the stewards are wrong? Is it the FIA’s mistake? Was it truly George’s fault?” He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think the stewards are wrong. I’ve watched the collision quite a few times, and Max pressed a little too early, George blocked for a bit too long, then Max’s car drifted the tiniest bit and neither of them could move. It’s racing, it happens. The FIA has made many mistakes in the past, but this is not one of them, no,” he says, watching Horner’s reaction. The other man rolls his eyes and shakes his head as if to highlight his previous words.

Before Nico can say anything else, Lewis appears behind the journalists, gesturing for Nico to leave and walk with him. “I’m sorry, I have to go check on my driver now,” Nico excuses himself, then makes his way over to his boyfriend.

“Careful, Nics, you’ll get fined for inappropriate commenting again,” Lewis teases. Nico grumbles. “You had to pay for crossing the track in Qatar last year.” Lewis laughs quietly, nudging his side with his elbow. 

“Let’s go see George?” He asks. Nico nods, but steers them over to the Mercedes hospitality first. He has to tell the team debrief will be held at Brackley on the 25th before he can go see George. They’ll get an additional day off due to the crash, and he knows they definitely need to talk about it and analyse it in detail, but for now his priority is George, and he doesn’t have the mind to debrief now, especially not after the confrontation with Horner.

                                          ❀❁

Merc driving fam + CEO

Toto Wolff

> How is George?

Lewis Hamilton

> Back sprain. Nothing major, but he needs a week of rest and then can pick his training back up slowly. We’ll need to evaluate for Austin when we’re back in UK

George Russell

> You do know I can talk for myself, right?

< But you’re supposed to be resting. Get some sleep, we’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7.

Mick Schumacher

> Should I prepare for Austin? Just in case?

George Russell

>Hey! I should be cleared to race in Austin.

Lewis Hamilton

> Our docs will be the judge of that, Georgie. 

Toto Wolff

> Nico, great job against Christian today!

< Thank you, Toto. 

Lewis Hamilton

> Don’t encourage him

> He shouldn’t pick up any more fines in the near future

Mick Schumacher

> That’s part of the Merc experience!! Gotta hate on Red Bull XD

< See, Lewis. I’m just doing the job.

Toto Wolff

> The fans are delighted. And our team loves you for it.

< They called me the cuntiest F1 driver for a reason.

Lewis Hamilton

> Nico!

> This is a serious matter

< And I take it very seriously. It’s a full-time job.

George Russell

> As the fans would say: It’s Britney, bitch!

< Are you sure you’re not concussed as well?

George Russell

> Positive. 

Lewis Hamilton

> Either way, it’s time to sleep for you. Sweet dreams, Georgie

Toto Wolff

> Don’t let the bed bugs bite!

Mick Schumacher

> Have you tucked him into bed nicely, Nico / Lewis?

George Russell

> I’m injured, not an infant!

< Shush, all of you. We have a plane to catch tomorrow.

“You’re still tense,” Lewis notes from the other side of the bed. They’re propped up against the headboard, both occupied with their phones. Lewis posted about the win and the crash earlier, and the official Mercedes Instagram account put out a statement. “Just worried about George,” he says. It’s not the entire truth, but he doesn’t feel like talking about Christian Horner while they’re lying in bed.

“Aw, darling, he’s okay,” Lewis coos. He puts his phone onto the nightstand and then takes Nico’s as well, scooting closer to tug him against his chest. Nico follows easily enough, leaning into Lewis’ touch. “He has a sprain,” he reminds Lewis, picking at the skin around his nails. 

Lewis’ hand slips between Nico’s, effectively stopping his actions. “But he’ll be fine, love. It’ll bring him a bit of discomfort for a bit, and maybe you should make him sit out the sprint, but he’ll be fine to race, probably. Don’t worry so much, babe,” he says, dropping a kiss to Nico’s hair.

“You do know I’m literally paid to worry about you and George, yes?”

His boyfriend snorts. “That’s a funny way to describe your job. Is fighting Christian Horner also part of the job description?” There’s a hand in his hair now, sorting through the strands. It’s calming.

“Of course it is,” Nico says, pinching Lewis’ side. “Everything I do is in my job description if I want it to be.” Lewis snorts again and flicks the back of his head. 

A comfortable silence settles over them. Lewis’ hand is still going through Nico’s hair, and Nico has started tracing the tattoos on the back of Lewis’ other hand.

“You know, I haven’t told you, but I think you handled Horner brilliantly,” Lewis says suddenly. Nico lifts his head to look at him properly. The look in Lewis’ eyes is nothing if not earnest. “He’s a bitch to handle, and you played him nicely. Great job, Nics.”

He leans forward to press a kiss to Lewis’ cheek. “Thanks, Schatz,” he smiles, settling back against his boyfriend. “Congratulations on your win. You drove very well today,” he tells him. Because Nico remembers Singapore last year, remembers the entire team’s absence from the podium ceremony, remembers how mad he was at Toto for allowing it. And while today at least Lewis’ side of the garage was there for him, he still feels like the win is a little overshadowed by George’s crash, and he wants Lewis to know how much he appreciates him. 

“Thanks, love,” Lewis replies, kissing the crown of his head repeatedly. “It’s okay to be upset about George, though. I’m very much upset about it, too. He could’ve won today, and now he’s in a hospital bed instead. I feel really bad for him.”

Maybe Lewis knows him a little too well. Nico had been upset about his encounter with Horner, Lewis told him he handled it well. He was worried about showing accidental favouritism, Lewis reassured him he knows it’s not the case. Now all that’s missing is…

“You’re a great team principal. The team loves you, the fans love you, your drivers love you. And George has a month to recover, he’ll be fine for the triple header. You’re doing well.”

Yeah. That.

“Think we can visit the girls sometime soon?” Nico asks instead of replying to what Lewis just said. He doesn’t feel like talking about emotions any longer. It was a long day, and he just wants to sleep, if he’s really honest.

“Yeah, sure we can. Early October should work,” Lewis promises. Nico misses his goddaughters, a lot. And seeing Vivian as little as he does these days, he realises just how nice her constant presence in his life truly was. Sometimes he misses his life from fifteen months ago, but at the same time, he wouldn’t want to change his current life for anything in the world.

“The kids will be so delighted to see you again,” he tells Lewis as he lies down on the mattress, pulling the duvet over his body. Lewis slides down and cuddles close to him, stealing the blanket. Nico tugs it back, then smacks Lewis’ hands away when he tries to take it once more.

“It’ll be good to spend some time with Roscoe as well,” Lewis smiles, then kisses Nico. He lets himself melt into the kiss and into the mattress, today’s tension finally bleeding out of his body as he relaxes. 

He hums. “Good night, Lewis,” he mumbles, eyes already closing. Lewis chuckles, kisses the tip of his nose (just like he did when they were much younger and he wanted to be a bother) and spreads the blanket over the both of them. 

“Good night, love.”

Lewis Hamilton, Monaco, October 2024

“What do you mean, you want my blessing to propose to Nico?” Vivian asks, voice high-pitched and entirely too loud. They’re in the kitchen, preparing lunch while Nico and Luisa are in the living room with the girls. While the flat is quite big, the kitchen and the living room aren’t all that far apart, and he really doesn’t need Nico to hear this.

“You know how important your opinion is to him. I already talked with his parents the other week when we had lunch; I have their blessing. And I know I technically don’t need yours, but I would prefer to have it. You’re Nico’s best friend.”

He’s had the ring for about three months, now. Last week, when Keke and Sina came to Brackley to have lunch with them and visit Nico at the factory, he asked for their approval, and they were both delighted. Even though Sina, just like Lewis’ own mother, originally told him he’s moving a bit fast.

But seriously, they’ve known each other for half their lives, and they managed to get over their time as teammates and everything they did to each other, so Lewis really doesn’t see the point in waiting. They’ve wasted so much time already, it’s unnecessary to wait any longer. Especially with just six more races until his eighth championship and subsequent retirement. It’ll be an entirely new chapter of his life, one that he really wants to start with Nico by his side, and the engagement is just solidifying something all of them know.

“I mean, he’s a lot happier than he was just a year ago, but I’m not sure you’ve really proven yourself yet,” Vivian says, eyebrow raised at him. Lewis meets her eyes, lets her study his face, then turns back to the vegetables he’s cutting when she takes her eyes away from him.

They work silently for a bit. Lewis can feel her judging eyes on him the entire time. “To be quite honest with you, Vivian, I’ll propose to him whether I have your blessing or not. I love Nico, and I fully intend to spend the rest of my life with him. I see no reason why we should wait, we know it’s right and a forever kind of thing. Your approval would have been nice, but in the end, I do what I want, and what I think is best for him and us.”

She puts her knife down, then turns to face him again. “I was waiting for you to say that,” she states, with a triumphant smirk on her face. Lewis is mildly terrified of this woman. “You are a rather stubborn person, and I know you have no need for my blessing. I appreciate the fact that you asked, and that’s why I’ll give it to you. But you better not betray the trust I’m putting in you, or else I’ll make sure you can’t father any children, yeah?” She smiles sweetly at him.

Lewis nods, then transfers the vegetables from his cutting board into a pan. “Thank you, Vivian. I would expect nothing less,” he says, turning on the stove. 

“Can I see the ring?” 

“When he shows you his hand you can, yes.”

Vivian laughs, adding a bit of oil and salt to the vegetables in the pan. “You’re a real spoilsport, Hamilton,” she complains, jokingly wagging the spatula in front of his face.

He shrugs, filling the finished noodles into the pan of vegetables and adding soy sauce. Vivian takes a fork and steals a piece of broccoli, spluttering when she notices how hot it is a second too late.

“That’s why you’re supposed to blow on your food before you eat it,” Lewis chuckles. “Or just not steal it from the pan, you know, wait for lunch like everyone else.” 

She slaps his upper arm, but her eyes look amused. “Should I call them over for lunch already?” Lewis nods. “Yeah, it just needs another two minutes or so. Don’t make hints at Nico though, please.”

Vivian winks at him, but nods. “Yeah, don’t worry. My lips are sealed. I want to know when you’re planning to propose, though.” 

“Ideally before we go back to Brackley. He’s gonna bother me about the timing because of George’s injury, but we’ll be so busy for the rest of the season, and I don’t want to wait.” 

She shakes her head fondly, moving to open a cabinet to take out plates. Lewis knows better than to question why she knows exactly where Nico keeps his kitchen utensils and just about everything else. He guesses that comes with a life-long friendship and spending lots of time at each other’s places.

Cutlery is placed on the plates, and she stacks the plates on top of a trivet before balancing that construction over to the table. Lewis watches her movements cautiously, ready to surge forward at any second to catch whatever it is that she accidentally dropped. 

She brings everything safely to the table, and Lewis has to admit that he’s impressed. He supposes that’s a quality you just acquire when you become a parent, and he quite honestly can’t wait to learn how to multitask like that as well.

“Sir Lulu!” Naila squeals as she crashes into him when he places the pan on the trivet. He ruffles her blond hair gently, feeling how soft it is. “You hungry, princess?” He asks, smiling brightly at her enthusiastic nod.

“Nico! Quit bothering Alaïa and come eat!” Vivian calls. Lewis takes one look at Luisa and has to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing. Her face is scrunched up in a way that looks insanely funny, and most likely is supposed to hold back her laugh. It is a rather bizarre situation, to be fair.

Naila insists on sitting right next to Lewis, who feels so honoured he serves her before he does anyone else. That little girl is insanely precious, so well-mannered and bubbly. He absolutely adores her, and her sister as well. 

He really needs to buy them gifts in Brazil.

                                        ❀❁

Lewis does, in fact, have the ring in Monaco. It’s safely tucked away in the middle of his own jewellery, just the right amount of hidden to look normal should Nico see it, which is rather unlikely considering Nico only ever wears watches. And his engagement ring, soon, hopefully.

His phone keeps beeping while he packs more clothes into his suitcase. They’re flying back to England tomorrow, and he decided that he really needs to bring more of his clothes over to Brackley. But packing does prove to be difficult when his music keeps getting interrupted by the beeps, and he just cannot concentrate. So he checks his phone.

Merc driving fam + CEO

George R.

> WIll someone please tell Carmen that a sprain does not mean an ending to my career? She’s absolutely torturing me with talks about letting myself recover, and should I not it means the end. I’m going insane, I swear.

Mick S.

> HAHAHA Georgie is getting coddled how sweeeeet

Toto W.

> You can show this to Carmen: As his former team principal and someone who has been in racing for a long time I can tell you George will make a full recovery and just needs to rest and then resume his training. He will be fine.

Mick S.

> And if not, I can always jump in 👀

Nico R.

 > You’ll probably do the practice sessions and the sprint. I have (unfortunately) consulted with Horner and we agree that it’s best for George and Max to only do Quali and the GP. It’s a triple header, you need all the rest you can get.

George R.

> You can’t compare mine and Max’s injuries! He has a nasty concussion and I just have a sprain in my back! I can totally drive!

Mick S.

> If Mum’s communicating with the enemy then it means business Georgie you’re not driving before Quali and we both know it

Nico R.

> Will you PLEASE stop calling me Mum?

Toto W.

> They’re showing affection

Mick S.

> Yes, Mum :) 

Nico R.

> I should have been warned about this circus.

Lewis snorts. Nico’s presumably in his own flat while he packs, because according to him, nothing is more boring than having to watch as Lewis packs and carefully plans outfits. The chat that was originally meant to only be for racing-related business is becoming more and more lively and personal, and he finds it quite entertaining. Especially seeing Nico bicker with George and Mick who are absolutely adamant on calling him Mum to annoy him. It’s absolutely hilarious.

Truly, Nico should be glad they’re not reviving Britney.

Nico R.

> Also, Austin is rookie FP1 anyway, you’re not missing much

Mick S.

> Aw, so the replacement also gets replaced? :( 

Lewis sees no other option but to cut in now. He knows they can go on like that for hours, and he does still have plans for tonight. His proposal is not being ruined by anyone, thank you very much.

< Mick, you’re no replacement and you’re not being replaced either. You’re a brilliant driver and you’ve proven that this year. Now you get to drive the sprint and show Haas what they lost, and we’re already proud of you. The rookies would’ve come anyway, not because of you.

< George, we’ve been in close contact with both the doctor and Aleix, and RBR as well, and it makes sense for you and Max to take it slow. Neither of your injuries should be taken too lightly and we just want to take care of you, okay buddy?

Both of them simply like his messages, and then it’s thankfully quiet in the group chat. He can finally finish packing in peace, now.

                                         ❀❁

Three hours later, Lewis’ flat is almost unrecognisable. He’s hidden a bunch of cameras across the flat as well, because Nico will have his head if he doesn’t get physical memories from his own engagement.

He’s made a trail from the door to the living room. It’s made up of printed photos of them, tied to a balloon that floats in the flat. There’s flowers tied to every balloon as well. 

It starts with photos of them as kids, with daffodils and daisies. Then it changes into pictures of their days as teammates in karting, with chrysanthemums and geraniums. Pictures of them in their respective series after these years, with ivies and mimosas. Both in F1, with hollies and peonies. Their early days in Mercedes, rosemaries and stock. Nico’s championship, gardenias and lilies of the valley. Pictures of interviews from 2016 to 2023, with olive branches. Nico’s first day at Mercedes in 2023, with lewisias and daffodils. Pictures of them from the past year, with roses, tulips, zinnias. 

And then, it all leads to the middle of the living room, where Lewis is waiting, surrounded by even more balloons (without pictures) and stephanotis. 

He texts Nico.

< Hey idiot do you fancy maybe finally coming upstairs again?? Bring my dog too please love

Now he just has to wait for Nico.

                                           ❀❁

“Lewis, what is this?” Nico calls less than five minutes later. He bites his lip to keep the nervous giggle in, then calls back “Just look!” and bounces on his feet slightly, unable to keep still.

Roscoe comes barrelling towards Lewis, and he crouches down to pet his dog before he decides to try eating the flowers. His dog, blessedly, just sits down next to Lewis’ feet and stays there without attacking his carefully curated decorations. His presence also settles Lewis’ nerves a little.

Realistically, he knows how the evening will end, but it’s still quite scary.

“Lewis… what?”

“Hey, love,” he greets, then breaks off, nervously fiddling with the ring box in his hands. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous now,” he admits. Nico looks confused, but still offers him a reassuring smile.

“I have a whole speech prepared, in theory. I’ll try not to forget half of it,” he smiles sheepishly. He truly can’t remember the last time he was this nervous.

Nico is still staring.

“Nico. My love. This has been twenty years in the making, really. You saw the balloons, the flowers, the photos. They’re part of our lives, our paths, and they all led us here, to this moment. We grew up together, became men, grew apart, and found our ways back to each other. And I know we’ve only been officially together for a few months, but I know that you’re the one. It’s always been you and nobody else. We both know this is a forever kind of thing. We know.”

He takes in a shaky breath.

“We’ve had quite the bumpy road. It hasn’t been easy, and I know it won’t be easy. We’re not easy, we’re hot-headed, stubborn, ambitious. But since we managed the past, I know the future will be bright. Even if we fight, which we will, I’ll love you, and I’ll do it unconditionally. We’re better together.”

Nico takes a few steps towards him, so Lewis extends a hand and pulls him closer. 

“You’re the love of my life. You’re smart, you’re loving, you’re pretty, you’re talented, funny, kind, a gentleman, amazing with kids, a great team principal and an even better driver, sometimes a little bitchy, easy to love and impossible to stay away from. I knew I wanted to marry you since we were in Italy and you licked vanilla ice cream off my nose. You’re the person I want to laugh with, to cry, to fight, to have a family and build a life together. There isn’t a person on this earth who means more to me than you. I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life, and I fully intend to keep you forever. I swear to be by your side, supporting you, defending you, correcting you, fighting you, but especially loving you every step of the way. Without you, my life would be so incredibly dull. You make me happy, you make me a better person. Nobody challenges me the way you do.”

There’s tears in Nico’s eyes, and he’s fairly certain his own cheeks are wet by now.

“You’re my best friend, my rival, my greatest teammate. My partner. The love of my life. Nobody will ever compare to you. We’ll go down in history. I’d do absolutely everything for you, including torturing my brain with far too complex grammatical structures of foreign languages, just so I can understand you, whatever you say. You mean everything to me, my love.”

He lets go of Nico’s hand and gets down on one knee in front of him, opening the ring box.

“Nico Erik Rosberg. Love of my life. My absolute everything. Ich liebe dich. Willst du mich heiraten?”

His boyfriend just looks down at him, blinking slowly. Lewis panics. He was so sure Nico would say yes, absolutely confident they’d get married. But now Nico isn’t saying anything, and he’s panicking.

Maybe it was the German. Maybe he butchered these two little sentences completely, despite having practised them for months and months on end. He’s been studying the language intently, and he was sure he’d manage. By now he can understand Seb when he speaks slowly, and his friend has stopped laughing at his pronunciation. He thought it’d be fine. Apparently not. He has to try again, but in English.

“Nico, my love, will you marry me?”

He’s aware that his eyes are extremely teary now, he can barely see Nico. So when he sees Nico shaking his head slightly through the blur, he’s one second away from breaking down. But then Nico’s entire face lights up.

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Lewis. How is that even a question?”

“Oh, thank God,” Lewis mumbles as he somehow takes the ring out from the box and takes Nico’s hand. “Let me?” Nico nods, so he slips the ring onto his finger. It looks beautiful against his skin, like it belongs.

Nico pulls him up again, and lays his hands against Lewis’ cheeks as soon as he stands. “I love you, you crazy man,” he says. Before Lewis has a chance to protest, or return his words, Nico’s lips are on his.

The kiss is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Fire, love and passion dance through his system, mixed with happiness, relief and even more love. Nico’s lips are hot against his, wet, but as soft and familiar as ever. His hands move into Nico’s hair, tangling in the strands.

They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and Lewis’ entire being is burning. It feels like he’s coming to life, like before he just existed and now he’s finally living. Like he finally understands what romance novels and movies are talking about. Like love.

Eventually, they part, foreheads leaned against each other’s, breathing each other’s air.

“Shit, Lewis, I love you,” Nico says wetly, huffing out an incredulous laugh. “Are you really learning German?”

“Yeah, I am, and evidently doing a shit job of it,” Lewis snorts. Nico pulls back a little, making eye contact. “No, you’re not. You have a cute little accent, but I did understand you. I was just not comprehending, that’s all.”

Lewis smiles, relief washing over him. “Oh, God, and here I was thinking you didn’t want to marry me and I fucked it all up.” Nico mirrors his expression, then leans in and kisses him again.

“It was a little awful, though. We gotta practise that a lot more,” Nico winks. Lewis protests, but he’s way too happy to actually feel offended. Shit, he loves Nico.

“Wait, is that what you’ve been hiding from me the past few months?” 

He smiles bashfully. “What, the proposal or me learning German?” Nico mirrors his expression, eyes soft and full of love. “Both, probably.” Lewis nods, and Nico laughs in disbelief. “You’ve been planning this for months?” He nods again.

“Lots of thoughts and careful planning, and video calls with Seb to practise speaking. You have no idea how hard that fucking language is when you don’t grow up speaking it,” he complains, voice bordering on a whine. Nico looks endlessly amused, but also endeared, so he takes it as a win. 

                                          ❀❁

“Lewis. Did you seriously propose to me while George is still recovering from his injury?!”

Yeah, here we go.

“Yes, love. I told you I’ve been planning for months, and this has been decades in the making. It made sense, sorry.”

“It made sense? He’s in pain and you’re saying it made sense? I didn’t take you for such a heartless person, Hamilton.” 

“Oh my god, Nico, I did not propose to you to let myself be called heartless,” he laughs, exasperated. Nico scowls at him. “The crash was nasty!” Lewis nods, “Yeah, it was, and Georgie is resting and recovering and will be racing soon. Please dial down the dramatics, Britney, he’s fine.”

Now Nico’s definitely scowling. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a petty cunt. What’s your point?”

“My point is that one of my drivers is injured and my other driver proposed to me while his teammate is recovering, and you’re not taking it seriously!”

Lewis loops his arms around Nico’s waist. “Sorry, love. I always take you seriously. I can un-propose to you and do it again at a later point in time?” His tone of voice is light, definitely not serious. He’s simply teasing Nico.

“Don’t you dare, Hamilton,” Nico hisses, stabbing a finger against Lewis’ chest. Lewis laughs. “As you wish, soon-to-be-Hamilton.” Nico frowns. “Who says you’re not taking my name? What about kids?”

“Hamilton,” Lewis says. 

Nico stares.

“Rosberg-Hamilton,” Lewis amends. Nico nods once, happy enough. “I don’t want you to change your name anyway,” he says. “Lewis Hamilton is too Lewis Hamilton to be touched. Feels wrong to add mine to it.”

“Nico Rosberg-Hamilton sounds about right to me,” Lewis says, kissing the tip of Nico’s nose because he knows it’ll scrunch up. It does.

“It’s definitely better than Lewis Hamilton-Rosberg,” Nico agrees. Then a smug smile takes over his face. “And it also shows that I come first, you come second.”

Lewis chokes out a surprised laugh. “You’re an insufferable little shit and I can’t stand you.”

“You asked me to marry you, Schatz. I think you can stand me alright.”

Yeah. He loves Nico, more than anything. He loves him when he’s being soft and sweet, when he’s sad and gloomy, when he’s angry and upset, when he’s petty, bitchy, argumentative, protective, joking, funny, defensive, aggressive. He loves him when they’re loving to each other and when they’re bickering. He loves him.

So he lets Nico shove him backwards to the couch.

Nico Rosberg, Austin, October 2024

“No, I don’t think we’re put at a disadvantage here. It was a quite nasty crash, and Nico’s trying to let me recover while also allowing me to race. The sprint doesn’t bring that many points anyway, and Mick is more than competent enough to represent our team.”

Next to George, Max Verstappen looks a bit annoyed. Nico can’t tell if he’s upset with George, the media or the fact that he can’t drive, but he’s scowling and doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Nobody’s ever properly media-trained that man and it shows.

“Of course, Christian and Britney talked about it a lot, and they both decided we should sit the sprint out. It won’t put either team at an advantage for the constructor’s, so I don’t see your point.”

Lewis next to Nico rolls his eyes. “You know it’s kind of funny, but he should really not refer to another team’s team principal as Britney. Even if he was around back in ‘16.”

Nico shrugs. “It’s fine, Lewis. He did it on Grill the Grid as well, that’s just who he is. George and Mick call me Mum, I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than fucking Britney.”

His fiancé (fiancé!!) snorts, taking a sip out of his water bottle. He’s in his fireproofs already, race suit hanging loosely around his waist. They have about forty minutes until the sprint starts, and while Lewis and Mick are in the garage for final preparations, George (and Max) are playing the media game. Nico kind of feels bad for them, but Max’s pleased little smile settles that immediately.

“Lewis Hamilton has an advantage over you, though. He’s been on every podium so far, and a sprint win might help him even more, especially when you can’t score any points.”

Max shrugs. “I beat him once, I know what I’m capable of.” Nico has to force himself to blame this statement on Max’s concussion after Singapore, despite the fact that the crash happened almost a month ago.

“Charles Leclerc is catching up, too, do you think your fourth championship is at risk?”

George clears his throat. “Lewis is leading the championship.”

The interviewer stutters. Max shrugs again, uncaring. Lewis brushes a hand against Nico’s, warningly. Apparently he can sense how annoyed Nico is at that moment. “It’s fine, love, calm down,” he whispers, then takes the straw back into his mouth for another sip.

“Of course I look forward to battling this out on the race track,” Max says. George’s face is schooled into a carefully neutral expression, but Nico can see how stiffly he’s holding himself. He’s not sure if it’s because his back is giving him trouble or because he’s annoyed at the situation.

“So no unfair playing?” The interviewer asks. Both men shake their heads. Nico cracks his knuckles. “You know, I’ve been wanting to pick a fight with the media for a while,” he mentions casually. 

Lewis snorts. “Nah, let’s fight them with peace and love instead.” 

“You’re no fun these days, so spiritual and zen,” he complains, jokingly. Lewis shoves him lightly. “Just trying to prevent you from picking up a third fine. Two are enough for your first season, don’t you think?”

“I’m tryna score the hattrick, mate,” Nico winks. Lewis bends over laughing, holding onto Nico’s shoulder.

Just like that, Nico’s anger subsides and his head clears again.

“Let’s show them,” he says when Lewis finally calms down again, clapping his hand on Lewis’ shoulder the way Toto always does. “Yeah, gotta use my advantage,” Lewis winks, handing Nico his water bottle while he puts his race suit on properly. 

Nico hands it back to him once the suit is zipped, but five seconds later it’s pushed back into his hands as Lewis pulls his balaclava over his head. “I’m not your cup holder!” Nico protests, placing the bottle on the table next to them. “Verwöhnte Ritter,” he mutters. A few meters to his left, Mick doubles over laughing while Lewis just stares at him blankly. 

“Haven't learned these words yet?” He asks Lewis, receiving a middle finger in return. He laughs and pats Lewis’ shoulder, then moves over to Mick to give him a few words of encouragement. They have a sprint race to win.

                                          ❀❁

“Lewis, you’re 42 points ahead of Max Verstappen now. Do you think the battle for P1 in the championship is over and we should instead look at the battle for P2 between Max and Charles?”

Nico rolls his eyes, watches as Lewis takes another sip from his bottle (he’s really obsessed with it this weekend) and then brings the microphone to his lips.

“You know, I think it’s still a little early to tell. Yes, I have the lead, but we should never write off Max Verstappen. He didn’t get any points in Singapore, and P6 is nothing to scoff at considering he started from P15, I’d say. He just came back after his injury, just like George did. I wouldn’t say anything is decided yet.”

Oscar Piastri in the middle of the post-race press conference couch, and Daniel Ricciardo on Oscar’s other side look mildly amused at that answer. Nico knows everyone remembers Max saying he’s already beat Lewis once in his interview yesterday, and Lewis is truly sticking to his new strategy of beating everyone with love and peace. It’s funny to him. He can already see the people on Twitter saying Lewis is ‘winning the idgaf war’.

“Good job today, George,” he compliments when the Brit comes to stand next to him. He scoffs, “I came in eighth, Nico, that isn’t a good job. I should’ve done better.”

Nico takes his eyes off the screen, turning to George instead and holding him by the shoulders. “None of that, George. Lewis just said it about Max, you’re coming back from an injury and didn’t start at the front of the grid. You did the best we could without risking yourself, and you did well. We’re proud of you, mate.”

George smiles a little. Nico pats his shoulders, then takes his arms away. George leans into his side anyway, and Nico wonders if he did that with Toto as well, and if it means he’s a good team principal considering his drivers are very comfortable with and around him.

“We’re proud of you too, Mick,” he calls when the younger man appears in the hospitality. “Thanks, Mum,” Mick smirks. He came 7th in the sprint yesterday, and Nico truly couldn’t be any prouder.

“Oh, will you finally quit calling me Mum,” he groans, exasperated. “Would you rather we join Max in calling you Britney?” He smacks Mick’s biceps, not bothering to reply to that. They’re little shitheads.

“But seriously, you both did really well this weekend,” he praises. Both men smile at him, happy and content, and Nico throws an arm around both their shoulders, even though they’re both taller than him. 

They keep watching the interview, making fun of Lewis’ forced relaxed expression. The more Nico sees him do post-race interviews, the more he realises that retirement might actually be the best option for him. Though from what they’ve talked about, it doesn’t seem like Lewis plans on taking a step back. Instead, he’ll invest more time into his projects, and travel with Nico whenever his schedule will allow him to. Maybe Nico can convince him to help him revive his YouTube channel, and they can do a bunch of videos for that. 

“When’s debrief, Nics?” Lewis asks, entering the room. Nico hadn’t even realised the interview had come to an end, too busy daydreaming about their future. Oops. “Whenever you decide to grace us with your presence,” he snarks, pulling the two blonds next to him into the direction of the conference room. 

“Oh, so no congratulations for your fiancé?” George and Mick gape. They might have forgotten to mention that to them. Their families know, as well as Vivian and Luisa, Toto and Susie and their closest friends. But they haven’t told the team, including the two younger drivers. Though Nico was sure they’d notice the ring, he hasn’t exactly been hiding it.

“Since when are you engaged?” George asks, voice a bit too loud and excited. Mick elbows him into the ribs for his efforts, and Nico is prepared to chastise him about it because of his back, but George doesn’t seem to be in pain. “End of September,” Lewis shrugs, heading off towards his driver’s room to change and leave Nico to deal with the two of them. Fantastic.

“C’mon, debrief now, gossip later,” he tells them, shooing them off towards the conference room, ignoring the way they both pout at him. 

They can ask their questions later, for now they have a race to talk through and another race to prepare for.

Lewis Hamilton, São Paulo, November 2024

Four more races to go. Potentially, most likely, his last four races. 

Max and him are now separated by 33 points, after Max’s win in Mexico and the sprint yesterday. Charles, forced to retire his car for the first time this season in Mexico, is another 33 points behind Max.

So now every single point counts.

Plus, Lewis really wants to win in Brazil if this might be the last time he’s racing in Brazil. 

It’s a race that’s always been special to him, and now that he’s an honorary citizen, it means even more to him. He needs to win today. 

Triple headers are always exhausting, and Lewis is very excited to stay in Brazil for a while before they have to leave for Las Vegas. He had been considering flying back to Europe, but he does want to cut down his CO2 emissions, and any opportunity to spend time in Brazil needs to be taken. He loves this country. The only bad thing is that Nico does have to go back to Brackley, and they won’t see each other until they’re both in Las Vegas.

The Drive to Survive crew are in their garage this weekend, so he has to be extra careful about how he interacts with Nico. Normally, they don’t really care, but with the film crew present the entire time, they should cut it down a bit and act as normal as possible.

Though honestly, Lewis has no intentions of hiding their relationship once he’s retired. He loves Nico, he’s going to marry him, he won’t hide his marriage. 

Lewis knows that the second he enters the paddock, all the cameras will be on him. Not just the Netflix cameras, but these in particular. 

He’s wearing an outfit that’s not all that unsimilar to last year’s outfit, except that this year, it’s an all-black faux-leather suit with 44 on the back, coloured in the colours of the Brazilian flag. The jacket is open, showing off his chest and stomach, and he’s wearing his braids loose, for once.

He looks good and he knows it.

Nico left the hotel before him today, so his fiancé hasn’t seen the outfit yet, and Lewis honestly can’t wait until he lays his eyes on him.

It’s showtime, baby.

                                            ❀❁

“That’s P1, mate, a mega drive, well done,” Bono says over the radio. 

Lewis whoops in joy, then presses the radio button. “Yes baby! Great team effort! Man, what a race! Yeah!” He cheers, undoing his belt to wave at the fans. The stands are filled with purple caps, Brazil flags, 44s. His heart is so full.

For the entirety of the cooldown lap, he keeps waving to the spectators, taking in the atmosphere. Interlagos is as special to him as Silverstone is, and the crowd is otherworldly. Briefly, he wonders if they can tell how emotional he’s getting, if anyone can tell he’s crying silent tears of joy under his helmet at seeing their support, at winning in Brazil for what will most likely be the last time. He has a lead of around forty points, if he’s not mistaken, he should win the championship - he’s pretty sure it’s his.

It’s a very emotional win.

He knows Nico can tell, when he’s out of his car and throwing himself against his team. They catch him, cheer, celebrate loudly, joyfully. Lewis pushes his visor up, looks at them with wet eyes, makes eye contact with Nico who’s beaming at him but whose eyes immediately soften when he catches sight of Lewis’ tears.

“I’m so proud of you!” He yells into his face when they hug over the fence, slapping Lewis’ back enthusiastically. Lewis lets himself be held for a moment, soaks up Nico’s silent comfort.

He tugs his helmet and balaclava off and immediately notices the lack of a hair tie on the stand where the sponsor jewellery, a bottle and a towel are placed. It makes him miss Angela fiercely, all of a sudden. She always used to carry hair ties for him on her wrist, in her pockets, bags. She would’ve had one.

It’s not that he doesn’t like wearing his braids down, but he usually ties them up after a race, and it annoys him that he can’t.

He looks over to his team, mildly annoyed now but still full of adrenaline and happiness. Nico’s eyes are trained on him, following his movements. Lewis wipes his face with the towel, then takes a huge sip of water and towels his face again. He runs a hand over his braids, trying to bring them out of his face,

It doesn’t work.

Before he knows it, he’s called over for the short post-race interview, so he throws his towel over his shoulder and grabs his bottle, walking over to Jenson. He loves post-race interviews with Jenson, makes a mental note to ask if he’s going to Abu Dhabi this year. He’d love to have him as the one who does that interview.

“Yeah, I just want to thank the fans for their support. It really means the world to me to see all of them here today. Racing here is always special, and such a crowd makes it even more magical. Thank you so much!” 

He waves to the stands again, blows a kiss into that direction. Receives almost deafening screams in return.

Jenson laughs. “Lewis, quickly, tell us a bit about the race?”

Lewis waves again, then beams at his friend. “It was amazing, really. One of the best races of the season. We had so many battles, it was interesting right until the last corner. That’s the kind of racing I love, you know? Just fighting, pushing, strategic driving. It was very fun to me, I loved it a lot. A mega race!”

He blows some more kisses, waves again. Jenson laughs, claps his shoulder, congratulates him. Lewis wipes his face, smiles at Jenson and thanks him, and takes another sip from his water bottle.

Just as he’s about to make his way over to Max and Charles who seem very engrossed in their private little race debrief to go to the cooldown room with them, he hears his name called. He turns, sees Nico gesturing for him to come over to the fence again. So he does, drinking some more water as he walks.

“Here!” Nico yells, trying to be louder than the still yelling crowd. He has something in his hand, arm stretched towards Lewis. The Brit takes a step closer to look at what Nico’s holding. His hand trembles a little when he takes the offered hair tie, eyes inexplicably wet again.

Shit, he really loves that man.

Nobody knows where he got the hair tie from, if he had it on his wrist the entire time or found it in one of his own pockets, nicked it off of some poor mechanic or ordered for someone to bring one. It warms his heart either way, because Nico knew exactly what he was trying to communicate with his look earlier, and he made it happen almost immediately. 

Lewis wipes his face once more, then forces both the towel and the bottle into Nico’s hands to tie his braids back. Brazil at this time of the year is quite warm, so it brings him immediate relief, considering he just got out of the car. He takes his bottle and towel back, then offers Nico a grateful smile, trying to convey just how much he loves him and how thankful he is without directly saying it. Nico smiles back, so Lewis knows he understood.

He turns back around, walking over to the Red Bull and the Ferrari driver who are still talking animatedly. All the way to the cooldown room, they keep chattering, and Lewis hides his amused smile by emptying his water bottle.

In the cooldown room, they all watch the race highlights together, commenting on overtakes and offering their own opinions. It’s nice, civil, entertaining. Lewis is still so fucking happy, and both Max and Charles are very smiley. Less than 100 points separate the three of them.

Lewis places the P1 Pirelli cap on his head, then grabs the Brazil flag someone has placed there right before they walk out towards the podium. As they walk, he has a sudden thought, turning to the FIA official walking alongside him.

“Hey, do you think we can play the Brazilian anthem as well? After the other anthems?”

The official frowns at him, eyebrows furrowed. He shrugs, and Lewis smiles his best sponsor-winning smile, hoping to convince him.

“I don’t know, Sir Hamilton, I’ll verify if it’s possible,” he says, looking like he’s blushing. Lewis has to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing at being called by his title. It’s not all that common, despite the fact that he once jokingly corrected George that it’s actually Sir instead of Mister. It’s kind of flattering.

The official turns away from him, calling someone and speaking rapidly. Lewis stops in front of the door leading outside to the podium. Charles and Max are still waiting as well, as is Bono. Lewis is delighted to see his beloved engineer with him on the podium for such a special win, and immediately gives him a hug.

“Yes, Sir, it’s possible to have all three anthems today,” the official informs him once he turns back towards them. “It’s not common practice and hasn’t happened before, but nothing states that it’s not allowed, so you will have all three today.”

Lewis flashes him a bright smile, thanking him. Then he slaps Bono’s shoulder amicably and follows him out towards the podium, jumping on the top step.

He takes off the cap for the anthems, linking his hands behind his back and standing up straight. When the last notes of the German National Anthem (das Lied der Deutschen, as he’s come to learn during his studies) fade, he picks up his flag and holds it over his head, then lets it lie on his shoulders, left hand placed over his heart as the start playing the Brazilian anthem.

Max, Charles and Bono all look a bit confused, but Lewis closes his eyes, soaking up the atmosphere. It’s properly loud now, the entire arena is vibrating with energy. 

It’s magical.

When the anthem ends, he lifts the flag again, then blows kisses to the fans. Charles laughs at his antics, and Lewis raises a single eyebrow at him, to say you’re just the same with your tifosi. The man blushes slightly, obviously understanding his implications. 

He showers Bono in champagne, lets the other three pour it on him, laughs and tilts the bottle over his head, emptying the rest of the bubbly alcohol on himself.

Bono throws an arm over his shoulder. Lewis presses his wet face into Bono’s shoulder, smiling happily. They’re both sticky with champagne, beaming and happy.

This almost feels like celebrating the championship already, Lewis thinks.

His happy smile widens.

                                           ❀❁

By the end of his little Brazil-holiday, he’s feeling very much recharged. He spent a lot of time with his friends, let them take him around and had some of them try and teach him Brazilian slang. They went out and got drunk, partied on the beach, went swimming, surfing, hiking, dancing. Two weeks filled with laughter, sun, alcohol, workouts, the sea and adventures.

He’s very relaxed.

As he’s waiting for his plane to arrive, he takes out his phone, going back to Social Media after his little break. He’d only used his phone to talk to Nico and his family during the past two weeks, he hadn’t opened any other app since after he’d posted after the race.

Scrolling through his timeline on Twitter, he sees his absence was not only noted, but also missed. So he chooses four pictures from the Instagram dump he just posted, sharing them to Twitter as well and watching as the replies come in. Apparently everyone’s delighted to hear from him again.

He smiles at their eagerness, replies to one of them who asks how he’s doing and watches as they all lose it about the ‘return of his active era’, spamming his replies even more. It’s endearing.

Then he sees a tweet with a video showing the moment Nico gave him a hair tie after the race.

@brocedeswdc them. nobody compares. they’ll always be the best duo

He likes it.

@lewisbrazilton get yourself someone who loves you the way lewis loves brazil.

He likes that tweet too, then replies to it.

 |

@LewisHamilton The most genuine love.

It takes Nico only seven minutes to text him.

> Please refrain from sending everyone into an even deeper spiral and get off Twitter. Thanks

< So you don’t appreciate me acknowledging you on social media?

> With love, Lewis, please spare me the headache.

He snorts, then sends him a silly selfie. Nico doesn’t send one back, as per usual, but Lewis bets Nico has his saved to his camera roll now.

His plane arrives, so he lets Nico have some peace for now.

He can annoy him when they’re in Las Vegas and he’s very much looking forward to it.

Nico Rosberg, Las Vegas, November 2024

Lewis has been annoying the shit out of him ever since they both arrived in Las Vegas. He’d already been annoying when Nico was still in Brackley and Lewis in Brazil, Nico thinks he was in Rio but doesn’t quite remember. And yes, Nico loves him more than anything, but for some reason, Lewis seems to be on a mission to get on his nerves as much as humanly possible during the race weekend. And he’s succeeding.

To be fair, annoying each other is kind of their thing, but still. It seems like Lewis is determined to bully him as much as possible. That’s not to say Nico doesn’t push back, because he violently does, but this weekend, Lewis is winning the battle.

They keep having little arguments about anything and everything. They’re not serious, they’re not painful, but Nico is certainly annoyed and he has to fight to keep up his professionalism.

The racing is going fine, though.

Starting the race from pole, at least something good should come out of his annoyingness this weekend. Nico hopes so. But he knows Lewis, he knows his ability to focus on the track, he has faith.

Just like last year, there’s quite the chaos in turn one. Lewis, at the very front, comes out unscathed, and George blessedly follows right behind him. The McLarens as well as Max and Charles are directly behind them, and Nico prepares for a group battle.

Of course, he’s proven right.

They battle it out for around 20 laps before Lewis and Max get a bit of a lead on the rest of them, and then the first pit stops start. The two drivers in the front stay out the longest, Lewis pitting last, several laps after Max.

Quite fast, they’ve made their way back to the front again, re-joining the battle.

It’s heated. One of them’s always pushing, trying to overtake, but it never really works. Lewis seemingly spots an opening and passes two of the cars in front of him, but has to settle for staying behind Max and Charles, now in front of the two McLarens.

“Bono, please tell him to quit pushing so hard and wait for a better opening, he’s just putting himself at risk here,” Nico requests with a sigh after Lewis’ third failed attempt at an overtake brought a collective groan to the team.

Lewis’ race engineer complies, forwarding Nico’s message. He could’ve easily told him himself, but unless it’s truly important or he wants to say congratulations, he usually refrains from talking to his drivers mid-race. It used to annoy him, and the race engineers are the ones who know their drivers and what to say best, after all.

The Brit seemingly follows his instruction for a while, following Max and Charles. But then Max swerves lightly, Charles overtakes him, and Lewis is close behind, looking for a gap that just doesn’t exist.

And yes, Nico knows Lewis idolises Ayrton Senna, loves to quote the man, hell, Nico himself does it, and he’s aware Lewis lives by the principle of Senna’s words. But there is no fucking gap, he cannot safely overtake at that point. Nico’s pretty sure he can’t overtake for at least another two laps unless he risks himself.

So he cuts in.

“Lewis, no more frantic tries,” he warns sternly. He knows it’s enough for Lewis to understand what he wants. “Be patient.”

Bono throws him a quick glance.

Lewis doesn’t bother replying, as Nico had suspected he would. Typical of him.

But he does seem to listen to what Nico says. He backs off a bit, drives a bit less dangerously.

“I’m waiting for your approval here, Rosberg,” he eventually says about two laps later. His voice sounds a bit robotic in Nico’s headphones. It takes another twenty seconds until Nico’s seen enough of their driving to see that the two drivers in front are currently driving a bit sloppily, rather uncommon for both of them, but an opportunity nonetheless.

“Permission to overtake now,” he says. In that second, he’s overcome with the urge to say it’s Hammertime, but he manages to reign that in and stay professional.

However, in the exact moment that Lewis goes left in his attempt to pass both of them at the same time, yellow flags are waved around and the colour flashes everywhere and they have to frantically tell him to abort the overtake right this instant, slow down, stay safe.

It’s too late.

Lewis jerks the steering wheel a bit too abruptly at both Bono and Nico’s hurried yells, and then his car spins off track, into the barriers.

“Fuck!” He yells, ripping off his headphones to pull at his hair harshly, running a hand over his face after. He settles the headphone back on, listens to Lewis’ radio message to Bono confirming that he is okay, and feels the guilt sink in.

If he hadn’t told Lewis to wait, then told him to overtake…

It’s his fault.

Lewis was well on track to having a picture-perfect season, never not on the podium, with a realistic chance at the championship, and now Nico’s ruined that for him. Because he thought he knew better than Lewis. Because he ordered him around in some ridiculous attempt of protection. Because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Lewis has got to hate him right now.

                                          ❀❁

Tensions are high when Lewis returns from his media duties and joins them in the garage to watch the remaining few laps with the team.

Nico wordlessly offers him a pair of headphones, but Lewis ignores them and walks right past him, to his driver’s room, and returns a minute later with his 44 headphones on.

Well.

He’s very obviously pissed.

Which means that not only will debrief be fun, it also means Nico’s in for a long night with barely any sleep and lots of arguing instead. Lovely.

Lewis’ eyes stay on the screens the entire time, following George’s car intently. No matter how many times Nico looks over at him and tries to make eye contact, Lewis never looks away for a single second. It’s mildly frustrating, if Nico’s entirely honest.

George is still locked in a rather intense battle with both McLarens, and from the looks of it, it isn’t a battle that he’s winning. It almost reminds Nico of Singapore last year, both Mercedes drivers chasing after Lando Norris who defended Carlos Sainz, despite the fact that they’re on different teams. Nico remembers the memes about the power of friendship, and remembers Vivian’s snarky texts that Lewis and him never defended for each other, back when they were teammates. He also remembers being entirely annoyed.

Now, Lando’s defending Oscar, and Nico wonders if the Brit is going to attack his teammate for a chance at another podium. George’s attempts at overtaking remain fruitless, and absolutely nothing happens.

He has to watch as the Max Verstappen Podcast makes a return during the cooldown room, has to watch Lewis’ mouth curl up in annoyance when Max discusses Lewis’ spin into the barriers following Pierre Gasly’s crash and the sudden yellow flag with Charles and Oscar. He silently salutes Oscar for remaining unphased throughout the entirety of the cooldown, podium and post-race press conference despite the fact that the two men sharing the podium with him talk exclusively with each other and he doesn’t really get a word in unless he’s directly addressed.

Nico answers his own share of questions, about the race, about Lewis’ first DNF of the season, his championship hopes, and George’s lost battle with the McLarens.

George walks into the conference room before Lewis does, freshly showered and with a water bottle in his hand.

“Tough luck today, mate,” Nico says, clapping his shoulder as he tells him well done, good job.

Lewis doesn’t join them until five minutes later, appearing perfectly composed but with his lips pressed closely together and his fingers drumming against his thighs the entire time while they debrief.

                                       ❀❁

The ride to the hotel was eerily silent.

Lewis hadn’t provoked him the way he did in Canada, had simply let Nico drive them to the hotel in silence. But it was tense, both wanting to say something but biting their lips instead.

Not even when they enter the hotel room does that change.

It’s Las Vegas, so it’s a night race, and with media duties and debrief done, it’s already well into the night. Nico’s exhausted, and he really doesn’t feel like fighting. But they also know better than to go to bed without solving things first, and he knows Lewis has an issue, so they need to talk it through. To make it work.

“Hey, Lewis,” he calls, making the other man look over from the entryway to the bathroom. He simply raises an eyebrow to indicate he’s listening, but doesn’t break his silence streak.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Nico offers, folding his shirt neatly and putting on a soft sleeping shirt. It’s Vegas, sue him, it’s quite cold.

Lewis’ mouth pinches slightly. So he has no intentions of talking it out. Nico can feel his annoyance rise.

“Well, you know. Fantastic race. Didn’t get to pass them, broke my podium streak, ruined my perfect season. Awesome weekend, really, just absolutely mega.”

He sounds absolutely pissed. Nico feels the guilt rise again, threatening to swallow him whole. But the way Lewis is looking at him also really, really rubs him the wrong way and he’s annoyed.

“I apologise.”

“And I don’t wanna hear it. I get that it’s your job to keep us safe and keep the cars whole and, like, run the entire team, but, Nico. Really? Why didn’t you let me overtake earlier? I could’ve done it, man. You know I could’ve.”

Nico sighs. “I know you could’ve, Lewis, but it was really, really close. It didn’t look safe to me, the stats and data didn’t look good, and I worry for you in every single race. I want you to win, I always do, but I also want you safe. And in that moment, I wanted you safe more than I wanted you to attempt risky overtakes to win. Sorry for loving you.”

“That’s not what this is about! It’s not about what you want, or about your love for me. It’s about the fact that when I’m out on the track, I need to be able to trust you, and Bono, and the entire team. And you need to trust me to do my thing, to make those risky overtakes work and bring the car together to win the race. It’s split-seconds decisions, and they’re fucking based on trust, Nico, not your personal wishes. If I decide I want to overtake and then send it too hard, that’s on me. My decision, my consequences. You need to let me do my thing. You can’t just overrule my decisions because they don’t suit you.”

Nico pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What the fuck, Lewis. I don’t overrule your decisions because they don’t suit me, I do it because I have access to more data than you do when you’re in the car, I can also see others’ onboards and make decisions based on that. And from what I collected then, you could not have overtaken either of them, much less both. You would’ve crashed, all of you, and then that’s it, Lewis. Do you understand?”

Lewis laughs, a bit cruelly. “No, I don’t understand, sorry man. I told you that you need to trust my decisions and you didn’t. Simple as that.”

“I do trust you and your decisions! But I cannot, in good consciousness, let you risk injuring yourself and have you suffer the consequences when I can prevent it. I can’t, and I won’t. And just as I have to trust your abilities, you have to trust mine, and trust that I make decisions for a reason. I’m still your team principal, Lewis. I only want what’s best for you, George and the team. You have to trust me on that.”

“It’s not about whether I trust you or not-”

“So you don’t trust me,” Nico interrupts him, glaring daggers. He still feels so, so guilty, but Lewis did always have the ability to bring out the worst in him, just as he can bring out the worst in Lewis, and it’s happening in full force right now.

“That’s not what this is about!”

“Do you or do you not trust me, Lewis? Because if you don’t, then maybe I should put the wedding planning on hold.”

Lewis stares at him, incredulous. “When, and how, did this turn into a discussion about whether we should get married or not? I asked you to marry me, I want to marry you! Are you insane?”

“So do I! But I need you to trust me. In our relationship, as a person, and as your team principal, and when you’re on the track. You need to trust me, Lewis.”

“I do. I trust you. I trust what you’re saying, I trust that you know what you’re doing. Blindly.” Then he adds, in a quieter voice, almost as if he doesn’t want Nico to hear it, “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Nico stumbles, as if he was pushed. Horror etches on Lewis’ face, seemingly realising only now what he said. But instead of taking it back, he goes on. “Maybe if I didn’t trust you so much, I wouldn’t have crashed today. I should’ve overtaken when I wanted to, would’ve won the race and still had my perfect season. I shouldn’t have let you into my head.”

His face is carefully neutral again. 

It’s honestly annoying. Nico knows how to read Lewis, he does, but Lewis knows how to close his face off and keep his thoughts and emotions away from it, when he really wants to. He’s mastered that.

“I’m sorry, Lewis,” Nico says, because he is. Because he feels guilty about Lewis’ DNF, because he hates that they’re fighting now even though he knew it was coming, because he doesn’t know what else to say without making the fight worse. Because he’s been annoyed at Lewis since Friday, because he wants to yell, because he’s sorry.

Lewis shrugs. “Well, so am I. Makes two of us, then.”

“I’m sorry. For your DNF. You deserved to have that perfect season, and I’m sorry it can’t happen now. I’m sorry about the safety car.”

He realises in that moment that Lewis has probably heard these words a million times already. I’m sorry about the safety car, you would’ve won your championship without it. Maybe that’s why he’s this pissed?

But Lewis rolls his eyes. “You being sorry won’t magically give me a perfect season, either, mate.”

And Nico despises being called mate by his own fiancé.

“I am sorry! I truly, truly am. I’m very sorry that my decision ruined your race. I was trying to protect you before, and I’m sorry that it caused this. I’m sorry, tesoro.”

Lewis’ face hardens. “Will you fucking quit that?!”

“What?” Nico asks, genuinely confused.

“That! Insulting me in languages I don’t understand! Shit, Nico, I’m already learning German so I can understand you, so you just resort to other languages? I’m your fucking fiancé, for God’s sake, I think I deserve to not be insulted by you!”

Nico just keeps looking at him, feeling absolutely lost. “What do you mean? When did I insult you?”

“Just now! You’ve been doing it for months, and I never said anything! We’re going to get married by the end of December, and you’re still insulting me every day!”

Realisation dawns on him. “Oh my god, Lewis. I’m calling you sweetheart in Italian. I do it in German too, sometimes. I’m pretty sure I used French pet names as well at some point? I’m always calling you some term of endearment in one of the languages I speak. Shit, did you really think I’ve been insulting you all this time?”

Lewis nods, cheeks slightly pink. It’s barely noticeable, but it#s there, even more evident from the sheepish look in his eyes.

“You could’ve just asked, you know,” Nico says, feeling a sudden spark of hurt shoot through him. “I’m not this giant asshole you apparently think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Lewis says quietly. He looks a lot less mad at Nico by now, so that’s good, but it doesn’t erase the fact that Nico himself is still drowning in guilt and is also rather upset now.

“Don’t you?” He questions.

All he gets in response is a shake of Lewis’ head.

“It seems like it, sometimes. I just want the best for you. I just want to love you. And I’m doing my very best to keep that insane amount of love I have for you away from the race track, because I’m already accused of favouritism every single day, and I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if people knew about our relationship. It’s pretty much an open secret in the factory, and they know how we operate and know we can keep it professional, but fuck, Lewis.”

He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands a lot harsher than he should. The sting is almost pleasant, clearing his head. His hair has gotten longer again, and it keeps falling into his eyes. He really needs to cut it properly, not just at the back of his head. It makes him look a little like he did when he was younger.

“If you think about it, us being together is definitely a grey area. A nightmare for HR and legal. I’m not saying I regret it or want to change it, I’d never. Having you like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I can’t, and I don’t, let the relationship interfere with work. When you’re racing, you’re my driver first and my fiancé second. And maybe I fear for your safety in a different way than I do for George’s, and maybe that also played a tiny role today. But I assure you, I promise you, that every decision I make is made by the team principal, and not by your fiancé.”

Lewis doesn’t say anything, and the silence drives Nico insane.

“Fuck, Lewis. I’m not insulting you. I’m loving you. And I’m just doing my job. I try my best, always.”

His fiancé still isn’t saying anything, and Nico’s thoughts are spiralling. He’s drowning in his guilt, and he doesn’t want to hurt Lewis, never wants to hurt him. He just wants to be reassured and hugged and be allowed to love Lewis and do his job. And the fact that Lewis seemingly isn’t sure if he can really hurts.

“Listen, Lewis. If you think we’re moving too fast, fixing things, dating, getting engaged and getting married within the same year, we can push back the wedding. We can cancel it all and wait until next year. Or the year after that. I’d wait forever for you. I just want to love you, and be team principal, and I’m really, really sorry for failing you today.”

Lewis stays silent, just looks at him. Nico still can’t read his face. He has no idea what Lewis is thinking, no clue where he stands now. It’s tearing him apart. 

Suddenly, the guilt that was threatening to drown him starts actually drowning him, and he can’t breathe normally anymore. The room is too small, too little space, and he just has to get out.

“Right. I’m gonna go for a walk. Good night,” he says, grabbing the first hoodie he sees and pulling jeans on, taking a jacket with him on his way out.

“Where are you going?” Lewis’ voice holds him back, keeping him in the room. “I don’t know. Outside. I need to- I can’t- I have to- Just sleep, Lewis.”

And with that, the door shuts behind him and he’s out of their room, heading towards the elevator to finally leave this hotel, breathe in some actual air, get this weight off his chest.

He just needs to breathe.

                                          ❀❁

Fifty minutes later, his lungs feel freer, but his head is still a mess. He realised he forgot to bring his phone or wallet about ten minutes ago, so he’s walking back to the hotel. His head is still as much of a mess as it was when he left, but at least he got some fresh air. Or, whatever the Las Vegas equivalent to fresh air is.

He reaches the hotel another fifteen minutes later, and it’s only when he’s in the elevator back up that he realises just how cold he is. The temperature really was lower than he’d assumed.

There’s an awkward second where he worries he also forgot his key card and will have to knock on the door and wake Lewis, but it’s thankfully in the pocket of his jeans (though he doesn’t remember taking it) so he can just unlock the door and then enter as quietly as humanly possible.

His efforts to keep quiet are useless..

The second the door is shut behind him, Lewis is hurrying across the room, halting in front of Nico and crowding his space. Before he knows it, Lewis is wrapped around him in a tight hug. He can feel his braids against his cheek.

“Shit, Nico, thank fuck you’re back, I was so worried,” he says, voice muffled. Nico brings his arms up to pat at Lewis’ back, but returns the hug properly when he feels the light shake of Lewis’ upper body.

After a bit, Lewis pulls back, hands framing Nico’s face. “Please, please don’t run off again, okay? I was so worried about you- shit, babe, you’re so cold, are you alright?”

He’s trembling, Nico realises suddenly. Lewis’ hands are so warm on his cheeks, and his beautiful eyes are wet with tears, tear tracks on his cheeks. Nico’s cold.

“I’m good,” he manages, but Lewis is already unzipping his coat and sliding it off his shoulders, pulling him towards the bed. “Hoodie and jeans off,” he orders, sitting himself down against the headboard and pulling the covers back.

He extends his arms towards Nico, and despite himself, he accepts Lewis’ wordless invitation and settles against him. Lewis pulls the covers up around them, then wraps his arms tightly around Nico, kissing the top of his head over and over again.

“Please don’t do that again,” he says quietly. Nico detects a light quaver in his voice, and rubs Lewis’ side soothingly. “I won’t,” he gives back, lips forming the words against Lewis’ neck. “I mean it. I can’t have you walking out on me again and almost freezing yourself to death in the process. I was so worried about you.”

“I’m okay, I’m here,” Nico soothes, cuddling closer. He can tell Lewis is crying quietly. “I’m sorry,” he adds, then presses a kiss to the exposed skin.

“You didn’t even look at your phone, I think I texted you a million times and called you,” Lewis keeps talking, not listening to Nico’s words. “I forgot my phone, it’s on the nightstand.” He feels a bit warmer now.

It’s silent for a minute.

“Why are you still up? I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Nico asks eventually, breaking the silence that was almost starting to be peaceful. 

Lewis presses his nose to the top of Nico’s head, inhaling. 

“If you think I’m going to sleep when the love of my life is out walking god-knows-where, when we just fought, you don’t know me at all.”

Nico doesn’t know what to say to that.

He knows they have the rule of not going to bed angry, but after the race, he was fully expecting Lewis to be asleep. He wouldn’t have blamed him. But to hear that Lewis never even considered it warms his heart.

“I love you,” he says quietly, kissing Lewis’ jaw. 

“I am so mad at you,” Lewis replies, but the fact that he’s crying and clinging to Nico like his life depends on it kind of takes away the momentum of the words. “Fuck, love. You can’t do that to me.”

He’s crying in earnest now, and Nico sits up to switch their positions, pulling Lewis into his chest. He lets him cry, hugging him close and whispering apologies and calming, reassuring nonsense against his temple.

The guilt comes back tenfold.

“I’m sorry, Lew,” he says, tracing shapes on Lewis’ shoulder. “For ruining the race, for snapping at you and for leaving. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lewis answers, taking a deep breath. “I was out of line. I don’t doubt you, I trust you blindly, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers against the side of Lewis’ head.

And it might not be ideal, they might still have to properly talk things through, but for now, sitting in bed with Lewis, it’s okay.

They’ll be fine.

Lewis Hamilton, on the plane to Qatar, November 2024

They have decided to stay in separate hotel rooms for the duration of the Grand Prix in both Qatar and Abu Dhabi. At least officially. During Bahrain and Jeddah, before they really got together, that wasn’t an issue, but now Lewis kind of already misses Nico.

Their plane seats are right next to each other, so they keep doing what they’ve been doing almost nonstop since yesterday - talking.

He’s surprised about how good they are at it.

At first, in the hotel room in Vegas, they talked about their fight and the race and actually made up. Then they moved on to the awful things they said to each other during that fight, and talked these through, which eventually brought them to even worse things they said to each other in the past, and by the time they fell asleep, they were recapping old races from their karting days.

Now, on the plane, they’re talking about the wedding planning.

Or, more specifically, about everything that is already planned and everything that still needs to be done.

The ceremony will be held in Greece. That country has always been their special place and after the legalisation of gay marriage the year before, that dream can actually become reality.

And then there’s the wedding date.

It’s perfect for both of them, they were told by Vivian that it’s “very on brand for them”, whatever she means by that. But they’re not really sure if it works for the rest of the people they want to invite. Which is just about anyone they know.

The decision to not keep their relationship private after Lewis’ imminent retirement (because he can feel the title coming, he’s absolutely certain this year is his) had been mutual and never questioned. It always takes bravery, but somebody needs to make the first step towards normalising things that should already be normal, even in their sport. So they won’t hide. There won’t be a big announcement either, but they won’t be hiding anymore.

So just about anyone is invited. 

Their families, obviously, Vivian and Luisa (with their flower girls), old mutual friends and their respective closer friends, the drivers from the old and the current grid they’re actually close with (because despite Nico’s insistence that they should just invite everyone, Lewis stayed adamant on his point that it’s weird to invite all of them if not all of them are even aware of their relationship, and active rivals), like Jenson, Seb, Valtteri, George, then Angela, their race engineers, Mick, the Wolffs and Dino.

There’s just one tiny issue with all of this.

The wedding date is set to New Year’s Eve.

Which in Lewis’ opinion isn’t a problem at all. After all, they’re getting married in the afternoon and having dinner at the reception after, there’s absolutely no issue in combining the wedding and New Year’s celebrations.

But Nico keeps talking about how it’s selfish of them to keep everyone away from their families on New Year’s. It’s bullshit, if you ask Lewis, because most people invited already have their families with them and the rest don’t celebrate with their families anyway. Still, Nic ó feels slightly bad.

That’s decidedly overpowered by the want to get married on the 31st and then start the new year as newlyweds. It’s also perfect in any other aspect, directly between the two seasons, close enough to the end of the last season to still count as part of that season, and far enough away from the beginning of the next for them to be able to have their honeymoon after the wedding (in Greece, obviously) without interfering with the actual preparations Nico needs to be present for.

So it’s perfect.

Now, they’re bickering about details again. Really, everything is decided already, they just love to annoy each other.

“Lewis, c’mon! Just let me see, you’re not my bride! I can see your suit before the wedding!” 

He shakes his head fondly. “Nah, babe, no can do. We’re not breaking traditions. I’m not jinxing this marriage by letting you see. I’m not asking to see yours either, am I?”

To be fair, he loves imagining what kind of suit Nico’s going to wear. His own suit is a perfect mix of black and white, not all that unsimilar to the outfit he wore to the Met Gala once, but with a lot more lacy details and a bit of silver woven into the fabric. It’s custom-made, tailored to fit him perfectly. And imagining Nico’s look for their wedding day is his favourite thing to do whenever he doesn’t feel like paying attention (like during Nico’s monologues to the team, sometimes, or in drivers’ briefing, or before falling asleep), so he really doesn’t want to have that surprise spoiled.

“That’s so Christian of you,” Nico teases, booping his nose. Lewis’ face scrunches up, then he quickly presses a kiss to Nico’s hand when he goes to move it away, raising an eyebrow at him. His fiancé blushes, but doesn’t say anything.

Lewis gives in and leans his head against Nico’s shoulder. 

He’s exhausted after yesterday, staying up way too long after a race where he crashed, and sleeping on flights is the norm for drivers. But he also wants to keep talking with Nico.

For another thirty minutes or so, he manages to keep his eyes open and come up with coherent responses, but eventually, his eyes droop closed and no matter how hard he fights it, his thoughts and words get more and more slurred, and before he knows it, he’s dozing off. 

The last thing he feels is Nico’s lips against the top of his head and his soft whisper of “Sweet dreams, beloved,” and then he’s slipping under, succumbing to the sweet warmth of sleep.

Nico Rosberg, Qatar, December 2024

Christian Horner is getting on his nerves again.

A week ago, he said that about his own fiancé, but compared to Horner this week, Lewis was an absolute angel.

Horner’s complaining about the fact that it seems like George is just defending for Lewis now and playing the ultimate team game.

And he’s absolutely correct about that.

Nico made a deal with George in a quiet minute between Vegas and Qatar about precisely that. Had Lewis not DNF’d in Vegas (which he still feels beyond guilty for), he’d have a bigger lead now instead of his 19 points lead after the race in Qatar. He’d come second in both the sprint and the race, losing to Oscar Piastri on Saturday and to Charles Leclerc on Sunday. Max’s P4 during the sprint is actually thanks to George’s insane defending on Saturday, so he kind of gets why Horner is upset, but George finished the race in P5 while Max came third, so Horner’s yapping after the race is beyond annoying.

George had agreed to the deal easily. His P4 spot in the championship is secured, Charles too far ahead and Oscar not close enough, and obviously everyone at Mercedes wants Lewis to win and bring it home. Lewis seemingly also mentioned his retirement plans to George, because the younger man brought it up during the talk with Nico. He’d stressed that George is in no way obligated to do it, and they would 100% treat him the same way as before should he deny, but he’d said yes without hesitation.

Nico loves him for it and couldn’t be any more grateful. 

They’re getting Lewis that championship, full team effort.

So technically, nothing Horner’s saying is a lie, but it still irks him and pisses him off. Might be because he despises that man and wants to throw up whenever he hears him talk, but he’s really, really agitated right now.

They’re in the media pen giving post-race interviews, and unfortunately he and Horner are right next to one another.

He’s been rolling his eyes at every word spoken, growing more and more agitated with every word that leaves his mouth.

“Listen, I’m not saying they’re doing illegal stuff directly, I’m just saying we should keep a closer eye on them in Abu Dhabi. We can’t have them cheating their way to a championship, can we?”

He tops it off with a laugh that sounds way too cruel for Nico’s tastes. When Horner notices Nico’s eyes on him, he shrugs and smirks, self-satisfied. A voice in Nico’s head that sounds suspiciously like Lewis warns him that Horner just wants a reaction out of him, tells him to keep his mouth shut and prevent any more fines this season, but he won’t allow this slander.

“Listen here, Christian,” Nico says, smiling sharply. “We’re a team, we work together, we always do. It’s a team effort, and we’re winning this championship as a team. Nothing we’re doing is against the rule books. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s suddenly a rule preventing teammates working together now, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time the governing body changes rules just to put Lewis at a disadvantage.”

Horner looks like he was smacked in the face for a second, but he recovers quite quickly. “You do know we had you beat the last three years? Max won the championship against Lewis in the last race once already, he can easily do it again.”

“If you think so,” Nico smiles politely. He wants to say you had the FIA’s help you didn’t win that championship fairly, but he’s pretty sure he’s already in trouble for his earlier comment about rules being changed, and he really doesn’t want to risk it.

“Ah, still not over the first loss I see? Oh, I forgot, you’re personally quite used to losing,” he says, looking pleased with himself. Apparently Nico’s implications were clear enough.

Nico’s jaw doesn’t drop, but it’s a near thing. He can’t believe the audacity of this man. He gains his composure as quickly as he can, scrambling to come up with a response that makes sense and insults Horner enough without getting himself into any more trouble.

“Well, I always lost to Lewis, and losing to the greatest of all time is quite the honour.” He smiles again. His cheeks hurt from how forced it is. 

But Horner looks bothered by his comment, so Nico considers it an absolute win. Anything that bothers him is a delight for Nico.

Before another word can be said, Nico’s called by one of the guys on their legal team (never a good sign) and turns away from Horner. “Please wrap it up, Nico, we’re on a tight schedule today and need you to head over to the hospitality as soon as possible.” It sounds like a lie to Nico, but he knows better than to go against the legal team. They’re ruthless, no matter how sunnily the man smiles at Nico, Horner and the interviewers currently present.

So Nico excuses himself and heads over to the hospitality.

As soon as he reaches his office there, he sees Lewis sitting in his chair, feet up on the table. So there is no debrief happening yet. Figures.

“What’re you doing here?” He asks Lewis, leaning against the doorframe. Lewis gets up from his chair, walking over towards Nico, who’s then pulled inside his own office. The door slams shut behind him, and then Lewis has him pressed against the door, kissing him until he’s dizzy.

“That was fucking hot,” he says in a low voice, sounding mildly desperate. “Stupid, will get you fined, but so damn hot.”

They kiss and kiss and kiss, which turns into actually making out against the door of Nico’s office. “Lew, we can’t, there’s too many windows,” Nico presses out between kisses, but Lewis isn’t listening. He’s tugging at Nico’s hair, still longer than normal, and that’s always the thing that gets Nico weak in the knees.

A knock at the door interrupts them. “Nico, you’re summoned to the stewards,” someone calls. Nico and Lewis share a look when they separate, then promptly burst out laughing. 

“Told you it’d get you fined, babe,” Lewis giggles. Nico flicks his forehead, but he’s also laughing. The knock sounds again, so Lewis steps back, only to step back into Nico’s space and wipe his lips dry with his sleeve and fix his hair. He gives another peck to Nico’s lips before throwing himself onto the couch, and Nico turns around to go to the stewards.

“They’re not usually this quick,” he says as he leaves his office. The woman who’s apparently accompanying him to the stewards shrugs and gives him a heavy look.

He knows what she isn’t saying, and he knows she’s right.

                                         ❀❁

“Listen, I know they don’t like what I said, but ten thousand seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?” 

They’re walking back to the hospitality to actually get debrief done now after his thirty-minute discussion with the stewards. The woman who came with him was an absolute force, taking apart every single argument the FIA brought up, but ultimately, Nico still has to pay the fine.

He knew it would end like that, he did shade them, after all, but the amount of money he has to pay seems excessive to him, especially when Horner doesn’t even get a warning.

“It’s like they have a personal vendetta against us!”

“I know, Nico, but please don’t say that in the paddock,” she sighs. He shuts his mouth. 

The first thing he does when he starts debrief is apologise to the team.

“I’m sorry for putting us under a bad light. I stand by what I said, I mean it and I won’t take it back, but I am sorry for overshadowing your amazing work this weekend with this story. It shouldn’t have happened, and I apologise.”

He’s shrugged off.

“Actually, the vast majority on the Internet appears to be on your side here,” one of the social media guys says, showing him the computer screen projecting tons of tweets calling him iconic and agreeing with him.

So Nico types out a quick message to share on Twitter and onto his Instagram story, but apart from that moves on to talk about the race.

@NicoRosberg Sorry for my unprofessionalism today. I won’t take back what I said but I will apologise for saying it. The comments were uncalled for and should not have been said. The focus should be on the weekend’s solid performances. Onto Abu Dhabi!

He scrolls through the replies underneath the table while Lewis recaps his issue with turn 6, biting his lip to keep from laughing at some of them.

 |

@lewisslaymilton they tried to silence jesus too dont even worry nico you spoke facts

Lewis is looking directly at him, so he turns off his phone and vows to go on a liking spree later. Nothing beats causing chaos on social media.

                                        ❀❁

“TEN THOUSAND?”

Nico nods, collapsing onto the bed and spreading his arms.

Lewis, despite the fact that they said they’d stay in separate hotel rooms for the last two race weekends for safety reasons, has not slept a single night in his own bed. He does have his suitcase there, more as an alibi than anything else, but they still spend their nights together.

So they’re now in Nico’s hotel room, Nico on the bed and Lewis standing in front of him, incredulous.

“I know, seems excessive to me.”

“It absolutely is, babe, what the fuck?”

Nico shrugs, laughing again. He’s honestly given up on trying to understand the FIA and the stewards and just about anything else.

“But you know what I’ve decided? I’m getting myself an assistant for next year, I’m done dealing with all the bullshit. Do you have any idea how much paperwork I have to do now? We’ll put out a ‘We’re hiring’ thing in some newspaper or something but I’m not subjecting myself to this next season as well,” he groans, making Lewis laugh and get into bed beside him.

He starts tracing up and down Nico’s biceps, leaving goosebumps.

“Whatever you want, love. But I’m not becoming your PA, just so we’re clear,” he teases, lifting himself up onto one elbow to smirk down at Nico.

Nico swats at him, but there’s no real force behind it.

“I’ll be very picky about who I choose as my assistant,” he warns. Lewis’ smirk widens. “I’d expect nothing less from Nico Rosberg, Monaco-based YouTuber,” he winks, then leans down to kiss Nico before he can complain.

And by the time he pulls away, all complaints have died in Nico’s throat and he follows Lewis for more.

Lewis Hamilton, Abu Dhabi, December 2024

“And it’s coming down to the last lap,” Bono informs him, voice carefully void of emotions. Lewis grabs his straw to take a huge sip. He can feel sudden nerves rise. 

It’s not the first time he’s heard these words. The last time he did, he didn’t get out of his car for over a minute after pulling into parc fermé, crying silently behind his helmet.

“Lewis, it’s Hammertime,” Bono says next. His voice is clearly laced with determination now, and it’s infectious. Lewis lets go of the straw, tightens his hands around the steering wheel.

He’s painfully aware of Max close behind him. It’s been a battle-filled race, trading the lead like friendship bracelets at a Taylor Swift concert, but he’s been in front for the past few laps, partially thanks to Charles’ engine failing three quarters in, bringing him the first DNF of the season. That brought George behind Max, who promptly resumed his game of attempted overtakes and kept Max busy enough to prevent him from attacking Lewis.

It’s clean racing, as far as he knows, but it’s about the same level of annoying as driving slower than usual to maybe clinch the championship in the last race despite the odds. Legal, but a bit questionable,

At this point Lewis doesn’t even care anymore.

It’s his championship and nothing will take that from him.

He’s aware that even if Max wins, the championship is his, he does have a big enough lead after all, but he really wants to win the last race of his career.

So he brakes later than ever before going into the corner, cutting off all chances of overtaking in that moment.

He feels like a maniac, driving what may be the wildest lap of his life, and even though he knows he’s champion no matter what now, he fights as if the championship depended on it.

The next turns are perfect, on the racing line, but Max is inching closer and closer.

Lewis presses down on the throttle and brakes as late as humanly possible. It puts him a bit more in front heading into the final turn.

Then it’s just the straight to the finish line, and he gives it everything he has.

One, two, three…

Chequered flag.

Max is still behind him.

He’s done it. 

He’s actually done it.

Bono and Nico are yelling into his ears, incoherent words he can’t understand, and he can hear the team’s cheering in the background.

As soon as he’s slowed down enough, he undoes his seatbelt and waves.

“Lewis, you did it! You did it! You are a world champion for the eighth time! You did it!”

He laughs.

“Record-breaking! You did it, Lew! Shit, we did it!”

The tears follow immediately after.

Returning to parc fermé is a blur. He has no recollection of the last minute, no idea how he managed. Only vaguely remembers doing donuts before pulling over. He doesn’t remember parking the car. 

He does remember getting out of the car, stepping onto it and spreading his arms, taking in the atmosphere, the screams and brightness of the stands and fireworks against the dark sky.

Then he hops off, and rounds the car to kneel in front of it. He places both hands on the front wing and leans his forehead, still covered by his helmet, against it, whispering quiet thank yous to the car for fulfilling his dream. 

He never stops crying during all of this.

Hands settle on his shoulder, startling him. He lifts his head back up when he’s being shaken, then turns around and somehow gets to his feet. George’s beaming face greets him, helmet and balaclava already gone, and then he’s pulled into a tight hug. His teammate slaps his back, over and over again, yelling congratulations.

Eventually, he pulls Lewis over towards their team. He follows, still crying, overcome with emotion.

They reach the team, waiting at the fence, and Lewis immediately throws himself into their waiting arms. He receives claps to the back, pats on the shoulder, congratulations and ecstatic yells.

And then Nico’s in front of him, squeezing every remaining bit of air out of him. “Congratulations, Lew!” he yells, knocking on Lewis’ helmet gently. Lewis laughs wetly, thanks Nico without knowing if he can hear it, and then pulls back to finally take his helmet off.

His balaclava follows, and George wordlessly takes both items out of his hands along with his gloves, walking away to place them on the designated stele. Lewis supposes he’ll be returning with the towel, water and sponsor jewellery, and makes a mental note to give his helmet to George later, after he’s written a note on it.

Nico’s hands frame his face now, wiping at his cheeks to dry them. His own eyes are shining with tears. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pride etched into his features. Neither of them can stop smiling.

It hits Lewis suddenly, that this is the first championship they’re actually celebrating together. No hidden, or obvious, jealousy between them tainting the moment.

His hands come up to hold Nico’s wrists. “I want you to be on the podium with me,” he tells him, leaving no room for discussion. Nico nods, beaming, then sends him off towards Jenson who’s waiting for him with the microphone for his post-race interview.

On the way over, he takes the stuff George hands to him, wipes his face with the towel and ties his braids together. He puts the watch on as he steps towards Jenson. “Thanks, Georgie!” He yells over his shoulder, smiling brightly at his teammate.

“Lewis! Congratulations! Congratulations on winning the race, and getting the record-breaking eighth championship! How do you feel now?” Jenson starts, handing a mic over to Lewis and smiling happily at him.

“Man, it’s absolutely incredible. Overwhelming. I really don’t have the words right now. It’s just magical. I’m speechless.”

Jenson laughs. “Yeah, I bet, mate. It’s been a really interesting season. How were the past few races for you, especially today?”

“Apart from Las Vegas, really good. Especially Interlagos and today, I truly have no words to describe what I’m feeling. I just wanna say thank you to the team, for their endless support and hard work, to Nico for absolutely everything, to George for being a blessing of a teammate, to everyone at the factory for giving us this car. This is a team effort, and I can’t thank them enough. Then to my family, obviously, for getting me to this point and loving me. And to the fans, for never doubting me and staying by my side all these years. I see you, I hear you, and I love every single one of you. Just thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, so loud Lewis can’t even hear Jenson’s usually obnoxious laugh. 

“Well, congratulations. You’ve certainly claimed your spot as the greatest of all time now and cemented your legacy. How does that feel?”

“Unreal. Like I’m dreaming. I feel like I could wake up at any moment. Obviously, I send all my love to Michael, Mick and the entire Schumacher family, nobody will ever be like Michael. And I’m really, really grateful that I get to stand here today and say that. It’s a special thing to win the championship in the last race of the season, even more special now. And it means absolutely everything to me to win the last race of my career. I really couldn’t wish for a better ending. So, thank you all!”

He sees quite a few jaws drop around him. Jenson appears surprised as well, despite the fact that he’s included in the small group of people who knew of Lewis’ plans, simply because he’s the one interviewing Lewis now.

Jenson doesn’t comment on it, just wraps up the interview.

“Well, we’re all very happy to see you win. Congratulations again! Sir Lewis Hamilton, everyone!”

Cheers again, way louder than before. It’s deafening, and he can feel his cheeks stretch with how big his smile is, eyes crinkling and wet with tears again. He waves at the crowd and blows kisses, makes a love heart with his hands after handing the microphone back to Jenson.

Then, he’s off towards the cooldown room, walking next to his ecstatic teammate.

He’s buzzing with adrenaline and endorphins. His emotions are a tumbled mess, but the most prominent one is sheer joy. He’d forgotten how absolutely exhilarating the thrill of winning the championship is.

In the cooldown room, he meets Max. He shakes his hand, praises him for the great race and accepts Max’s congratulations. He can tell the Dutchman is displeased, but he would’ve needed to finish out of the points or not finish at all for Max to win the championship. And a tiny, petty part of him remembers 2021, and that makes his compassion evaporate quite quickly.

He takes another water bottle, emptying it with fast gulps. Then he settles the P1 cap on his head, and shakes the FIA’s official’s hand, allowing them to congratulate him as well.

Nico joins them in the cooldown room a minute later. They gravitate towards each other, and suddenly they’re jumping around clinging to each other like they did when they shared their first podium together. Lewis sees George and Max watch them, but he honestly couldn’t care less. Not when Nico’s whispering praise into his ear and they’re giggling like madmen.

His braids aren’t held up in a ponytail anymore, but he doesn’t know where the hair tie went and he doesn’t want to ask, so he just wipes his face and neck again and decides to just let them stay loose.

They’re led to the podium, and Lewis gets to step on the top step one last time, straightening his back and holding the Pirelli cap in his hands that are clasped together behind his back while he listens to the anthems - British and German, his favourite sequence of notes. 

He accepts his trophy, throws it up into the air and catches it with the brightest smile.

It’s magical.

He stays on the top step when they bring out the champagne bottles, spreading his arms and letting himself be sprayed by his teammate and Nico from beneath the podium. Max joins them, as well, before Lewis grabs his own bottle and completely drenches Nico in the liquid. They move over to the railing to shower their team, and then they clink the bottles against each other before taking a huge gulp of the rose water. He wrinkles his nose at the taste of it.

                                          ❀❁

The post-race press conference is a complete mess.

All three of them are still in their race suits, sticky from rose water, and Nico’s leaning against a wall, looking drenched and for the lack of a better word, utterly wrecked. 

(Lewis isn’t going to mention that the last part might be his fault and that he’s not faring much better. Making out in a hidden corner will do that to a man. It’s also the reason why they’re not changed yet, they were behind schedule as it is so George and Max were forced to wait in the media room while someone went to search Lewis and Nico - who found the way over themselves, so the poor employee is probably still looking.)

With his fiancé in the room and the cocktail of feelings in his body, Lewis is feeling absolutely drunk without taking a single sip of actual alcohol.

“You said this is your last race. Are you retiring?”

Lewis snorts. He hears the two men on either side of him snicker as well.

He brings the microphone up to his face. “Yes. I’ve taken the decision to retire at the end of the season if I manage to win the championship after Monaco, already. I’ve always said that I wanted to keep going until I have the eighth, and now that I have it, I’ve accomplished everything. It’s time for me to give my seat to someone else and watch races instead of winning them. I learned that from the best,” he answers, winking into Nico’s direction.

Laughter rings through the room as a few people turn to look at Nico.

“So things between the two of you are truly all fixed? No more lingering awkwardness or resentment with you and Nico?”

He shakes his head, exasperated. “For the millionth time,” George snorts, quietly enough for the microphones to not pick it up. Lewis snickers, looking at George for a second.

“Nah, all good. We talked things through. And well, what can I say, the man gave me the car that won me the eighth, I really can’t feel any resentment for someone like that. And our problems are kind of eliminated now that I’m retiring. It was always about wins and points and mind games and races and lies and podiums. No more racing for me means no more champagne problems for us.”

Another laugh echoes through the room at the humorous tone of his voice, drowning out George’s huffed out “Champagne problems?!” rather effectively. Lewis winks at his teammate. He’s enjoying this a lot.

For a while, they get questions about the actual race that all three of them answer, talking all over each other in their enthusiasm. It was a great race, with hard battles, and it was truly fun. 

“It’s a pity Charles didn’t get to finish,” Max says at some point, and then they compare Red Bull, Ferrari and Mercedes and their respective seasons before answering another question about some racing incident.

“Last question of the day,” the FIA official warns as he calls on another journalist.

“Question for Lewis,” the man says. Lewis already picks up his microphone and looks at the reporter. “What are your plans for the future now that you’re retiring? Long term, I mean.”

Lewis bites his lip to rein in the crazy smirk that’s threatening to take over his face.

“Well, I’m getting married, I’d say that’s pretty long term.”

He allows the smirk to play on his lips now.

The entire room dissolves into chaos.

                                         ❀❁

Ninety minutes later, Lewis is seated at a huge table in their usual restaurant, George on his left and Valtteri on his right. Carlos is sitting across from him, who’s between Daniel on his right and Nico on his left. Max is next to Daniel, with Charles on his other side who has Pierre next to him. Alex is next to George, Lando next to him and Oscar next to his teammate. Logan’s sitting next to Oscar, with Zhou on his other side, sitting at the head of the table. Yuki’s next to Pierre and Kevin with Valtteri, Fernando on Kevin’s other side and Lance at the other end of the table. Checo’s next to Nico with Esteban sitting between him and Lance for the annual grid postseason dinner. 

Lewis was gonna skip it, but his fiancé forced him to go with the words “We can actually party in two hours as well, might as well have one last grid dinner,” so Lewis went.

He suspects Nico’s planning something and needs him gone for that.

His family was also acting really weird when he went to talk to them after the fastest debrief of his life. Debrief literally went “Congrats Lewis on the championship, congrats us for the constructor’s, congrats George for a stellar season - amazing job everyone, I fucking love this team, dismissed.” And his family was loving and delighted as always, but also seemed like they were hiding something. Probably some retirement gift or something.

Lewis has brought his helmet to the dinner to give it to George. He’s taken a silver sharpie and wrote “to my future champion - I’ll always believe in you. You have a bright future ahead of you, cherish every moment. It will happen. Love, Lewis” on top of it. His teammate accepts it, teary-eyed and emotional and clearly overjoyed, bending down to hug Lewis and briefly rest his head against Lewis’ shoulder, a bit of an awkward position because of their height difference.

Now, at dinner, the drivers are lively as always. 

Their food has just arrived, and for three minutes, there was blessed silence, everyone simply eating. Then, the chaos picked back up.

“Sooooo, Lewis, are you really getting married?” Lando drawls, with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Lewis sighs. “Yes, I am. In the winter break, actually. He has the ring on his finger and the wedding bands are in the safe in Monaco.”

He’s met with gaping faces.

Then, they talk all over each other. “And we DIDN’T KNOW?” “Where are our invites?!” “When and where?” “To whom?!” “You didn’t say!”

Lewis raises a hand, silencing them. “Well, the relationship isn’t really public knowledge. And no offense, but the majority here can’t keep a secret.” He sees Charles’ triumphant grin a second too late.

“Well, I knew. I got an invitation about a month ago.” Pierre next to him nods, “Yeah, I knew too.” Max leans over Charles to jab a finger at Pierre. “What, did Charlie gossip to you again?” Pierre actually got his own invitation, but fair’s fair.

The table breaks out into laughter, but they calm down again pretty fast. “So you’re just playing favourites?” Alex asks, pouting at Lewis in an exaggerated manner.

“Don’t act like George didn’t tell you,” Lewis says, raising an eyebrow at his teammate’s best friend. George has the decency to blush, proving Lewis right. “Well, my dear Alexander, if this sly fucker is marrying who I think he is I’d say everyone who didn’t get an invitation should consider themselves lucky,” Daniel pies up, cackling manically. 

Lewis wants to be offended, but Daniel has shared a fair amount of cooldown rooms with them, he’s entitled to a bit of banter.

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” he says, smirking into his wine glass as he takes a sip. 

“What do you mean you can neither confirm nor deny? You should at least know who you’re marrying!” Daniel screeches. Lewis shakes his head fondly. There’s never a dull moment at these dinners. “No, I know who I’m marrying, I’m saying I can’t comment on whether they’re lucky or not.”

He pierces a piece of cauliflower with his fork, then cuts it apart neatly and eats it. Cauliflower and soy sauce taste surprisingly well together.

Chatter breaks out again. They’re coming up with the wildest theories on who he’s marrying and why it’s not public knowledge, why they didn’t know. Somehow, they go from theorising to bringing up gossip about the old grid they heard somewhere, and Oscar’s face is bright red when Fernando, ever the shit-stirrer, recaps one of Mark Webber’s wildest stories. Logan claps his back comfortingly while Lando almost falls off his chair because of how hard he’s laughing. 

Eventually, Lewis notices Fernando and Daniel nod at each other. 

“Have y’all figured out who Lewis’ spouse is?” Daniel asks, smirking. Lewis all but buries his head in his hands groaning. Seriously, he’s broken the championship record and announced his retirement today, but it’s his wedding that makes the number one conversation topic?

The four people at the table who are actually invited to the wedding - Valtteri, George, Charles and Pierre - exchange amused looks at his misery, but the rest still look like they’re deep in thought. 

“Oh! Nicole Scherzinger?” Esteban asks suddenly, looking like he just found the secret of the universe. Lewis can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. “No! Oh my God, I’m pretty sure she’s married already!”

Daniel smirks. “You were actually so close already. Just drop the last two letters and then you got it.” 

Lance snaps his fingers. “Ah! Nico!” Daniel claps loudly, laughing. Lewis just shakes his head at all of it.

Yuki looks confused. “Hülkenberg? I thought he had a girlfriend?” 

That’s the last straw for Lewis. He succumbs to the laughter as Nico scrambles to deny that, collapsing into Valtteri’s side who pats his back sympathetically.

“No, Yukino. Rosberg,” Pierre says, and then it’s silent for a few seconds before they yell in unisono.

“Rosberg?!”

Yeah, Lewis needs more wine.

                                        ❀❁

Forty more minutes later, after everyone’s finished dessert and Lewis has covered the bills, they start making their goodbyes.

It brings on a round of congratulations and speeches to Lewis, everyone recapping what they deem his greatest moments and the significance of all of it for them, wishing him all the best and thanking him profusely.

It gets him emotional.

So to keep himself from crying again, he decides to ambush George as they’re heading out.

“You, me, Nico and Mick, skydiving on Tuesday, 10 AM sharp. Don’t be late, and no excuses, Georgie. It’s my retirement gift,” he winks, then lets the restaurant door fall shut behind them. George looks a bit uneasy, but agrees. Probably because he knows Lewis will drag him there no matter what.

So they head over to the luxury yachts that are all over Abu Dhabi, where the parties are held.

When they reach theirs, they walk into a room filled with people who immediately fire their party poppers. Lewis’ eyes fall on the enormous banner saying FAREWELL, LEWIS and then onto the inflatable WDC trophy next to it. 

He laughs, still overwhelmed from it all, and thanks everyone for their work and support before taking the glass of champagne Nico hands him while his fiancé makes a toast to him.

They drain the glasses of champagne, then everybody claps and cheers and the music is turned on.

After that, it’s a blur of words and hugs and handshakes and tears and confetti and alcohol, eventually kisses and wandering hands, and he remembers very little of it the next morning.

A true championship party.

                                          ❀❁

On January first, he posts the photo dump recapping 2024’s greatest moments that were caught on camera.

The day after he won the championship, he posted the usual postseason message thanking the entire team and reflecting on their season. It was a message filled with grateful words and appreciation for the entire team.

Then he’d also posted photos from the skydiving trip with Nico, George and Mick, as his last activity before leaving Mercedes. A while later, he’d put out a story after the FIA prize giving ceremony. The institution annoys him too much for him to give them their own post on his feed, so he’d just showed his outfit and the two trophies on his stories, not giving a caption but tagging Nico who’d attended it with him to receive the constructor’s championship trophy (and accompany Lewis, unofficially) and laughed at the reactions to that.

Now, it’s ten photos in true photo dump fashion. 

The first shows his win in Shanghai, the first in over two years, when he threw the trophy into the air. The second is a picture from the factory, Lewis speaking to the team in the assembly hall after Imola to thank them for building the car that shows championship-winner potential. Monaco, a shot of his car right after he overtook Charles, with the iconic scenery in the back.

Their 1-2 in Austria, a shot of him and George spraying each other with champagne. Receiving the trophy for the track record in Silverstone. Then, a picture Nico took of him in Thailand; he’s standing in front of the sea in just a pair of cream-coloured linen pants, curls loose. The podium in Brazil where he has the flag lifted above his head. 

A picture from his championship/retirement party when his team threw him into the air. The smile on his face is brighter than the mirrorball that’s hanging from the ceiling. Roscoe next to the championship trophy, sleeping adorably. 

And lastly, a picture from yesterday. It’s just Lewis and Nico clinking their champagne flutes together, wedding rings on full display with fireworks lighting up the night sky over the beach in Greece. Nico’s just out of frame, only his hand is visible. He doesn’t yet want to cause the collapse of the Internet.

lewishamilton That’s a wrap on 2024, which will forever stay in my memory as the greatest year of my life, both concerning my career and my personal life. It started with a lot of changes within the team and shifts in my perspective on things, and we learned quite quickly that we have potential to do great things. And then we proceeded to do exactly that.

Getting back to the top was exhilarating, and winning eight races in the same season I won my eighth championship feels magical to me. Even almost a month later I still don’t have the words to describe what I’m feeling after breaking the record. It’s a real honour to me to be able to form this kind of legacy.

Throughout the entire year, the support I was shown has been absolutely unreal and I’m very appreciative of everything. This support means the world to me and I’ll never be able to thank you guys enough.

Apart from having one of the most beautiful seasons ever with the outcome I’ve always dreamed of, I also found the true meaning of happiness this year. Life is better when you have someone to share it with, and I’m insanely lucky to have found my person. We got married yesterday and I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together and take on every challenge as a team.

I love you x

Nico likes it 52 seconds after it’s posted, but doesn’t leave a comment.

Instead, they turn towards each other, with a sparkle in their eyes that shows true happiness and pure, unadulterated love. Lewis leans forward to kiss his husband, and they lose track of time again.

The wedding yesterday was just absolutely magical. The ceremony was perfect, their first kiss after being named husband and husband sent sparks through his entire body.

There were many, many speeches from people who were lucky - or unfortunate - enough to be privy to large parts of their story, like their parents, Vivian, Angela, Toto, Seb, and, with the most embarrassing speech by far, Jenson.

It was like getting a trip down the memory lane, but from the perspective of the people closest to them. And honestly, hearing their perspective was really, really interesting. They’d known they were annoying as hell, but they didn’t really know how absolutely unbearable it was for everyone around them. Though Seb and Jenson were more amused by all of it than anything, teasing them relentlessly during their respective speeches. 

And Lewis really could’ve gone without having Jenson recap the times he’d walked into a room and was forced to witness things he didn’t exactly mean to see.

But well, that’s also a part of them just as much as racing and fighting is. Above anything else, they laugh together. Nobody can make them laugh harder than they make each other laugh.

It’s a special kind of love.

For the entire day, Lewis couldn’t take his eyes off of Nico. He was absolutely glowing, even more beautiful than he usually is, stunning in his perfect suit. He’d cried when he first caught sight of him. Nico looked like he walked straight out of Lewis’ dreams, and he couldn’t stop the tears because he simply could not believe he’s lucky enough to marry the love of his life, his childhood best friend, his greatest rival and forever-partner.

It really is a fairytale ending to a story filled with ups and down, eternal fighting and love that can’t be put into words.

2024 truly gave him everything.

The World, everywhere, at the start of the 2025 season

A promotional video released directly before the start of the new season shows George with his curls falling onto his forehead, in his race suit and with his helmet in his hands. 

“Hi, I’m George Russell, and I drive for the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 team.”

George’s face is replaced by Alex’s, also in his race suit, helmet pressed into his waist by his arms. It has the Thai flag on its side.

“I’m Alex Albon, and I’m a driver for the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 team.”

It cuts to shots of the W16, the drivers having their photos taken, laughing together, getting into their cars and going around the track in Silverstone.

Then it’s Nico, in a team shirt with his hair styled and two beautiful rings shining in the light.

“Hi, my name is Nico Rosberg-Hamilton and I’m the team principal of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 team, the home of champions.”

The video shows scenes of every time a Mercedes driver won a championship, ending with Lewis Hamilton kneeling in front of his car after winning his eighth championship in 2024. It ends with the three of them, drivers and team principal, next to each other, looking directly into the camera. 

“We’re ready for it,” Nico says, tossing a little Mercedes star into the air. The camera zooms in on it as it falls down and on the screen, the spinning star smoothly turns into the team logo.

The video ends with that, laughter ringing in the back.

                                          ❀❁

“And that’s pole position for George Russell! He starts the new season where his former teammate ended it last year, next to Charles Leclerc. His teammate Alex Albon follows in P4 after Max Verstappen. Are we in for yet another exciting season of racing from Mercedes, Red Bull and Ferrari?”

                                         ❀❁

“Of course I want to win the first race of the season. We have a legacy to carry, a title to defend, and a new mentor to make proud. This is just the beginning.”

                                         ❀❁

“I’m really happy to be with Mercedes this year. We all know what they’re capable of, and taking this seat especially is the biggest honour in the world. It has a name and a certain expectation connected to it, and I'll give it everything. I hope we can make him proud.”

                                         ❀❁       

Mercedes’ team principal enters the paddock on race day hand in hand with Lewis Hamilton, both of them styled perfectly in their matching colour-coordinated outfits that very obviously have the Lewis-Hamilton-touch to them and somehow capture their respective personalities, and with huge smiles on their faces, wedding bands reflecting the Australian sun. Lewis waves and blows kisses at everyone as he walks.

The Internet dissolves into chaos.