Chapter Text
‘Niki, Hunt punched the bastard from the press conference.’ Clay turned off the radio when he walked into the trailer.
‘Yeah? I thought he and the press have mutual affections with each other and shared aversion to me.’ Niki was writing down the statistics and other particularities about his car. He surely had some improvements to do for the next race.
‘Rumor said Hunt did it for you.’ Regazzoni deliberately looked at the Austrian driver.
‘Whoever gave you the information is an absolute idiot.’ Niki finally raised his head, ‘I don’t need anyone to defend my reputation. And unless Hunt was fired by McLaren, he wouldn’t have time for it.’
‘Whatever, I’m just a messenger.’ Clay stood up, patting his trousers.
‘Messenger? For whom?’ Niki frowned. He disliked the insinuations underlying the words. Worse, he hated that he could not decipher it.
Truly, everyone behaved bit different after his accident. Mostly because they didn’t know how to show their sympathies without hurting Niki’s ego. Especially after the press conference, the elephant in the room grew even bigger.
Clay didn’t answer, only flashed him a smile and left.
Niki looked back at his own notes.
SHIT. That arsehole.
**
After the celebration of his return and winning 4th place, Niki asked Marlene to go back first. Marlene looked worried, but didn’t ask any questions.
Half an hour later, he stood in front of a hotel room.
Inhaling deeply, he knocked on the door.
‘Fuck off!’ A drunk slur came through.
‘It’s me.’ Niki replied, loud enough for the person inside to hear, ‘Open the door, Hunt.’
No one answered. Not even another ‘fuck off’ came out.
Niki waited patiently. He knew better than to leave.
Finally, the sound of bare feet approached. With a click, a blond head appeared behind the door.
‘Niki.’ The British sounded guilty.
‘Are you going to let me in?’ Niki asked emotionlessly, but he stared at James intensely.
James tried to avoid eye contact, though only for a few seconds. He eventually gave up. ‘C’mon in.’ Looking sheepishly at the Austrian, James murmured softly, making way for him.
**
Empty beer cans, liquor bottles and other unidentified containers scattered on the floor. Cigarettes butts filled up the ashtray. The whole room smelt…James.
James stood behind him, scratching his head. The blonde looked bit awkward but also brass about his deviant lifestyle.
‘Suit yourself.’ James passed Niki and picked up a half-empty bottle on the tea table, throwing himself back into the couch.
Niki saw the bruises on the British’s knuckles. ‘What’s wrong with your hand?’
James instinctively hid the bruises, ‘Nothing. Just had some disputes with other people.’
‘What other people?’ Niki obviously wouldn’t let it slip easily.
‘Why do you care?’ James put down the bottle, craning his neck and reaching for the cigarette case.
Niki beat him to the case and threw it halfway across the room. ‘Blimey!’ James seemed furious about Niki’s sudden interrupt.
‘Did you hit the journalist?’
James was stunned. Then he immediately looked away.
‘Why did you do that? Don’t you know it could have you suspended for the next race?!’ Niki nearly shouted.
‘Alright! Thank you for the advice, Marvelous Mr. Lauda!’ James shouted back, ‘Wouldn’t it be good for you if I got banned or even expelled from the race?’
Niki’s face was fuming. His scar was turning into a deep shade of red, more like crimson. James now had a good sight of the scarred arena. It was horrible to look at. The red tissue spread across the Austrian’s forehead, as if the wound was still bleeding. For someone being trapped in the 800 degrees flame for nearly 1 minute, it was miraculous that Niki was able to make it out of the hospital for barely 4 weeks.
James was suddenly frustrated and swallowed by sheer guilt again.
‘Niki, I’m sorr-’ before James came close and made apology, Niki hit him right across the face.
‘GO FUCK YOURSELF, HUNT.’
James was pretty sure that his lip split. But he couldn’t care less now.
Niki quickly turned to the door and clearly planned to leave the room as soon as possible. James knew if he let the man leave, they would never have any chance to reconcile.
James grabbed Niki’s arm and pulled him back. The Austrian violently shook his hand off, pushing hard on James’ chest.
The blonde nearly fell on the ground. But his athletic reflex prevented the momentum, instead he pulled the brunette into a tight hug without any hesitation.
‘I’m sorry, Niki. I didn’t mean to say any of that. I am really sorry.’ James spoke quietly beside Niki’s ear, soothing the other’s back gently. ‘Hit me however you want, but not now. Your wound might tear. Please, please don’t get yourself hurt again.’ The last sentence almost sounded painful.
‘Let go of me, you arsehole!’ Niki struggled and tried to get rid of James’ tight arms, but the latter was so determined to hold him. He gave up after a few vain attempts.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Niki.’ James kept apologizing, still holding Niki tight but carefully restraining his strength. He knew there were wounds on the brunette’s body, too.
Niki didn’t flinch anymore. He didn’t respond either. James couldn’t see his face but could sense the other’s heavy breathing.
‘Arsehole.’ The Austrian blurted.
‘Yes, I am. I’m a bloody arsehole.’ James kissed the top of Niki’s head, ‘I’m sorry.’
Niki pounded James’ back a few times, but soon gave it up and returned the embrace. They stood in the silence, holding each other in the arms.
‘Let me go.’ Niki finally tried to pull back, ‘You don’t have to do this.’
James released a little but still kept the other within a few inches apart, ‘If you promise not fleeing anytime soon.’
Niki sighed, nodding quietly. James was always boisterous. Problematic. Niki warned himself countless time that he and James should only remain the rivalry and maybe the budding frenemy relationship on the track. He could never predict or handle what the James was thinking outside the circuit. And it was frightening to imagine.
And within James hugging him so unceremoniously, Niki wanted to stop this unreasonable reaction but didn’t know how to do.
‘You are thinking too loud, Niki.’ James smiled a little, palming the small back of Niki. He guided both of them to the large couch.
James didn’t let go even when they settled down. The British still firmly put his arm around Niki’s shoulder.