Work Text:
Out Of The Blue (I’m Kissing You)
It’s almost unreal, like something that’s happening on an entirely different plane of reality. Like he’s dreaming but he’s had this dream before and he can’t remember. Like coming home after 10 years away.
Everything is flashing lights when he finally manages to pry himself from his car, out of the machine that’s won the hearts of the millions. He can see that everyone is screaming but his eyes are beginning to water and he’s spinning too dizzy to understand what it is he’s craving for, too out of sorts to find what he’s missing. It’s the exact same thing he felt a year ago in harder circumstances and more brutal times.
Just when he thinks he’s beginning to come back to himself, there’s a flash of teal disappearing into the post-race lounge. Lewis looks up, watching them as they award Sebastian with his third place trophy for Ferrari and- oh shit, he’s late.
His heart pounds in anticipation, he’s running up the stairs and out onto the balcony greeting his fans. The moment is as surreal as last year, as surreal as 2008 even after years of searching for another championship.
He loses himself in the crowd, in the moment, hearing his name on the lips of every single person.
“Your 2015 World Champion, Lewis Hamilton!”
The crowd is shouting frantically, welcoming him into his victory. He’s grinning his small silent grin when he finally turns to stand at the podium and there he stands.
Blonde haired, blue eyed, hurricane of a man he is. Nico Rosberg stands tall and proud on his second step podium place and Lewis is so overwhelmed by the familiarity of it that when he steps onto his first step podium place he nearly trips.
The fact that he stands next to Lewis here and now is surprisingly unsurprising, what shocks Lewis is the decidedly not sour look on his face.
Nico is looking at him like he’s won, no- like he didn’t care about winning and only cared about this moment with him on the podium. Like second place is where he’s meant to be, under the dazzling light of Abu Dhabi and he doesn’t mind one bit. Nico is smiling.
Even when the interviewer goes up to him for some words he’s staring at Lewis.
“-how does it feel?”
Nico tilts his head to the audience to answer.
“It was a wonderful season for the team, and a well-deserved win from Lewis. And-” he laughs, turns to Sebastian on Lewis’ other side for a fraction before letting his gaze fall on Lewis again. “To quote Seb, I’m happy.”
People cheer, clap at Nico for his attitude. Lewis’s hands move to clap along without him noticing, he’s glad for it, afraid of what they would do besides clap if they were allowed to move freely.
Nico didn’t say anything else. Normally, Nico had something more to say, something he always said.
Lewis’ eyes sharpen in on his rival in realization.
Nico didn’t say maybe next year.
Lewis whipped his head to the right, to the grim look on Sebastian’s face when Nico stops speaking, to the way the German looks down at the crowd where he could have sworn a certain Finn once stood.
No, he thought. He wishes he was taller. He wishes he towered over Nico so he can see down there. He wishes he could hear what Toto and Maurizio seemed to be talking about.
In a moment of realization he realizes he shouldn’t have let this end, shouldn’t have let it go so far that he couldn’t tell what Nico was planning. That he couldn’t tell if Nico still cared about him. That he couldn’t even tell if Nico was going to leave him.
He turns back to Nico, the interviewer is bent on getting more out of him. It’s clear that the interviewer wants something gorier. And Nico is deigning to even give him the time of day.
“Do you plan on staying with Mercedes after your contract expires?” Nico flinches, clearly uncomfortable with the subject and Lewis wants to be able to tell why Nico’s suddenly shuffling his feet, why Toto seems to be glaring at him from below.
“We’ll see”
Those two words terrify Lewis more than any race ever could, any collision he’s ever seen. We’ll see, that’s practically a no. He gets it now and he’s oh so sad because he’s finally here again and it’s even better with Nico next to him.
He can’t imagine Nico in anything but Teal.
He can’t imagine anyone else wearing his team colors but Nico.
It all comes flooding back to him. All the plates thrown and the pizzas shared, all the late nights watching Bond films, hitting Nico in the face with a snow ball and the way the flakes got caught in his long lashes, bitter words thrown around and the fighting, wrestling until they didn’t have energy to get in bed so they end up cuddling on the floor.
Waking up with his arms around Nico wishing he’d never leave.
Except now he’s woken up again and Nico is leaving.
Lewis looks at Sebastian, thinks of how being teammates with Mark had destroyed their friendship. Thinks of how being teammates with Kimi now was hurting their relationship. He doesn’t want that for him and Nico. They’ve let it go on for too long.
When given a choice, he always chose racing over Nico. He always chose to let him go.
He’s not making that mistake ever again.
He isn’t letting go anymore.
Under the Abu Dhabi sky, the chill bites into his champagne drenched overalls and before the interviewer could get to him, before the world could touch them, he drags Nico up a step and their lips touch.
He breathes him in, the taste and touch of his best friend warming his senses. His mind is buzzing and his heart is full to burst and he’s home he’s home. The championship is nothing compared to this, nothing, especially when Nico starts kissing him back. Everything is right again. He’s a kid again with a best friend named Nico that he karts with who he wants as his teammate in Formula 1, who he wants to be the Prost to his Senna, who he’d give anything in the world to kiss.
They can hear their lips protesting at being separated loudly in the quiet but it’s only a second before the fans are shouting and dancing and absolutely prancing with glee. It’s so crazy it makes Nico giggle.
“Where did that come from, Hamilton?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at him. Lewis is on the verge of kissing him again when the interviewer clears his throat, tapping Lewis’ shoulder awkwardly.
“World Champion of three times, what’s it feel like?” he asks, completely dumbfounded.
He spares another look at Nico – he smiles, it doesn’t get old – and answers confidently.
“Not as awesome as this” he says, wrapping his arms around Nico and dipping him.
The interviewer faints. It’s the best day of Lewis’ life.