Chapter Text
So it starts like this: It's night-time in Malaysia, and he should have returned to his hotel an hour ago, but something made him stay. It's a feeling that's been nagging him for a while and frustrates him since it seems pointless after two hours of mindlessly roaming. If there was a reason for it; then he should've found it by now. The idea of just leaving the circuit was getting increasingly tempting when he finally heard it: someone was sobbing.
Something in him said this was it, so he walked toward the empty garage with an uneasy step.
"Hello?" He called into the darkness.
There was a large startled noise to his left as if someone had bumped his head before scrambling. He looked closer and saw a dark mess of tousled hair. Then said head turned, and the german felt like he'd lost his breath. Never had someone looked more divine. Carlos Sainz looked wrecked, which made no sense considering he'd gotten points, and it was the best sight he'd seen. His plump lips shook as they glistened with spit, long trails across his perfect cheeks, and those eyes- oh they were red, puffy, and dark. They swirled with pain as he looked back at him, and for a moment he wondered what kind of expression he was wearing.
"What are you doing here? Perdona por esto." The Toro Rosso driver asked. (Sorry for this.)
"Never mind that. What happened to you?"
"Nothing that matters."
"It clearly does to you." Nico should leave, but that feels like a sin, "Is it the team?"
"No, they're fine. It's just me I... I have to figure some things out."
This was the moment he should walk away, maybe offer some water to him and a cheery, useless message. Instead, Nico sat beside him and smiled, waiting for the younger to open up. Instinct had brought him into this garage, and he wasn't willing to defy it by leaving this angel alone. It didn't matter if it was awkward. He had to be here, even if he wasn't sure why.
"You can leave," the spaniard reminded him.
Nico had no intention to leave him like this, so he shook his head. He felt his body tensing as he continued inspecting the younger driver. He was even more breathtaking from a closer look. One could see his freckles across his nose, long lashes that curled on the tips, and glistening lips. He wanted to taste him, to take care of him, and make him cry from happiness. It'd be a lie to say he hadn't been watching the spaniard since his debut. He'd never imagined he'd get a chance to be so close.
"How can I help you?" He asked with a raspy voice.
"I don't know. I... I don't want to think about it."
"Do you want me to distract you?"
Carlos stared at him in confusion but did nothing but bat his eyes when the older caressed his cheek. His thumb slowly outlined his jaw and got closer to his lips. He looked confused but- oh so lovely. This was why he'd stayed at the paddock, for this reward. And it was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward and pressing his lips into his.
Time stopped afterward. How could anything matter when he could feel such perfection under him? He looked as delicate as an angel he would worship if given the chance. He'd never imagined he could be his, but after months of gazing at him, here they were. It took a couple of seconds for the younger to pull apart, and wasn't that a divine sight?
"This is wrong. This is the exact thing I should be avoiding." Carlos began rambling.
He looked pitiful and gorgeous. Still staring at his lips as he tried to convince himself it was wrong. He almost looked like a madman, repeating himself over and over and mixing in some spanish. Nico wanted to feel bad for the twenty-year-old and his crisis, but he tried to kiss him more.
"Why?" Nico asked as things clicked into place, "Is this why you cry? Because you can't help but like men? Do you feel disgusted by it? By yourself?"
"I'm the problem, not others," he whispered. "Otros podran pero a mi me mataran. I can't allow myself to indulge it. I need to carve my place here, and I just handed a rival something to use against me." (Others can, but I'd get killed.)
"If you're worried about me, then take this as mutually assured destruction, darling." The German laughed. "You know you don't have a problem, right?"
"Tell that to..." Carlos began but fell quiet.
"Oh, so it's your family."
The younger looked at him tiredly but said nothing to deny him. For someone labeled as mysterious and hard to approach, he was quite easy to read. It'd taken him less than an hour to correctly assert his situation. Nico couldn't believe someone as pretty was so alone, not just in the paddock, but in life. Saints deserved to be worshipped and cared for, not forgotten. He wanted to make sure of it.
"You don't have to tell me. Let me make you feel better." Nico asked and moved closer.
"What part of I can't do it did you not listen to?" The spaniard pitifully chuckled.
"No one has to know. Just indulge in it for a final time."
"Why are you so keen on me?"
"Is it not obvious?"
"No."
"You're beautiful, Carlos, so hübsch wie eine taube." (as pretty as a dove)
Carlos looked at his lap as the prettiest pink painted his cheeks. The older driver couldn't help but take note of these reactions, just in case. He was easy to flatter and responded adorably to any praise. His lips remained slightly parted, redder than before, plush, and perfectly glistening. It was a shame he'd seized crying since they'd lose their saltness, but one couldn't have everything.
He slowly lifted his chin and allowed his thumb across his lips as he imagined what could happen if the younger let go. It didn't feel like an impossibility, yet not tonight. This moment was to prove himself trustworthy and show him it was all okay. The paddock had guided them together, and this must be why.
"You won't tell?"
"Why would I?"
Without any more words, the two allowed their lips to meet. It was gentle and innocent. If Nico hadn't known that Carlos had had a girlfriend in high school, he would've thought this was his first-ever kiss. Eager and pretty, just like him. It didn't last long, but it was enough to feel his yearning. They separate, and a shy smile falls on his lip.
"If you ever want to... talk, you know where to find me." He whispers as he parts.
"I don't think that's wise."
"It's not, but I'd be a fool not to try."
With that, he leaned forward for a last peck and smiled when he felt him smile. He'd played his part and now he had to wait. With any luck, this angel would bless him for a single time, if not many. He could be what the spaniard needed for a short time. They could be friends. They could be more. He got up and walked back to the paddock, leaving him behind, but he knew they might meet soon.
Staying had been worth it.
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A couple of days had to pass before they met alone. Days, where their gazes would meet across the garages, fan forums, and driver meetings. It was brief but scorching. Nico wanted him more than he'd ever wanted someone, maybe because he hadn't just fallen for him. It felt like a hunting trip, and it excited him. Carlos Sainz aimed to be the sweetest price he'd ever get. Yet he was getting impatient.
Monaco was a classic and everyone's claws seemed to sharpen at her presence. Doing well here meant an unimaginable honor, failing brought shame until they met again. Yet his gaze stays firmly on the spaniard.
"Everything alright, Hulk?" Checo asks and brings him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, distracted. Were you saying anything?"
"Just wondering if you'd stop eye-fucking the rookie," he laughed and nearly choked on his water.
"I'm not... He just looks lonely."
"I wouldn't worry, he's a nice kid, and Fernando seems to be taking him under his wing." The mexican smiled, "plus his teammate is practically his shadow."
"I know, we talked a bit in Malaysia and I guess... it stayed with me."
That was underselling it by a lot, but his teammate couldn't know the nature of that chat. He couldn't say how much he wanted him, and how beatific he'd been when he held him closer. The Monaco sun did a fair job of reminding him of his divinity. If only he was allowed to possess him.
"You'd be a good friend for him."
"I don't know about that," he chuckled as he thought that "friend" wasn't the role he had in mind.
"Do you want to be close to him?"
"Maybe."
"Then stop overthinking and go! If you chatted in Malaysia, you can chat here." Checo playfully pushed him away as he laughed.
Nico did his best not to trip at the sudden loss of balance and lovingly flipped his teammate off. He heard a soft chuckle to his left and was met with his favorite pair of eyes. The german smiled at him and decided not to waste the opportunity he was given. He greeted Carlos and then realized Max was with him, a bit of a setback, but he was determined to stay.
It was so easy to be next to the spaniard and bask in his presence. There was something magnetic to him, and it was easy to wonder if he truly only wanted to fuck this man or if there was more. He watched him discuss something with Max, a hand running through his hair and a smile charming every cameraman around them.
The driver parade ends shortly after, and the German finds himself holding the door to the media center for him, Max nowhere in sight. They sit next to each other for the briefing. He pointedly ignores the wink Checo sends his way. There's nothing here but comfortable conversation and the roots of a friendship.
"I'm excited to race in Monaco," the younger whispered to him.
"Think you'll get points?"
"I think I can beat you," he playfully taunts him.
Oh... there's a thought. This cocky attitude was doing something to him he hadn't expected it to. From so close he could almost feel the younger shiver when he bumped their knees together. There was heat here, much more intentional, and less scared than it had been in Malaysia. Had Carlos been waiting for him to make a move?
"And what will you do if you beat me?"
The younger driver looks at him surprised and quickly blushes. There was a small chance Nico was projecting his desires onto his words but he also doubted it. Before he can continue to press, a reporter comes near them and addresses the younger man. He watches as the spaniard answers a question with perfect cadence, as if nothing was happening between them. His question is left unanswered until after the race.
Carlos ended up being right, one place above him is enough. The german can see his playful smile when he dismounted his car. The team was happy for him, the sole point bringer of the evening for Toro Rosso. Nico wanted to be part of the celebration, but he was still a stranger waiting in his wings. He watched as the spaniard beamed to those around him, congratulated Rosberg, and did his best to comfort Max. He was too sweet for Formula One at times, he felt like honey for their flies. He thought back to what Checo had said to him, about taking the initiative with the younger driver and decided the mexican was right.
It's stupidly easy to get his hotel's name and floor. He didn't even need to give the press officer an excuse; she just smiled and complied. On another day, it would worry him, and he'd try to speak to Seb as a heads-up. Today, it's working in his favor.
There are a hundred different reasons why this shouldn't work. They're not close, a single make-out session, or two chats, don't make them close. Even if he wants them to be. Luckily, Carlos seems to like it as well. What other explanation can exist when he's standing next to his hotel room's door and smiles so warmly at him?
"Hello," Nico smiles back at him. "Were you expecting me?"
"Maybe. Were you expecting me to wait for you?"
"A guy can hope."
Truth be told, he didn't have a plan for what came next. He'd come
to his hotel simply hoping he wouldn't get kicked out. Everything else was a welcomed surprise. It didn't help that Carlos was leaning against the doorway and batting his eyelashes as he too tried to figure out what to do.
"screw it" he decides and takes a step forward. Carlos smiles back at him and says.
"Do you wanna come in? I have some beers."
It's shy and doe-eyed, he'd only need to bite his lip to make it truly provocative. Yet they both know what is going to happen sooner than later. A part of him wondered if it was okay for them to do this. He knew how deep the issue ran for the younger, but after waiting for so long he found he couldn't care. So he stepped into his room.
The minute the door closes, he shoves Carlos against it and kisses him. It takes a few minutes for him to understand what's happening, clearly expecting some foreplay or a talk, but he's waited for too long for that. It's a passionate kiss, full of hunger, as their bodies press against each other with no room between them. From the way he moves, it's easy to know he is someone begging to be dominated and freed from his spiraling mind.
Time slows down as he focuses on him alone. There are no neighbors to hear them, or he doesn't care, as he fills his neck with hickeys and moves his knee between his legs. Carlos is a novice, an amazing one, but it's clear he's only done things with man a couple of times. It's a good thing, Nico gets to play his expertise with him and make sure the younger feels as if he is truly his. There's also the factor that his rookiness is a turn-on, but that's hardly a surprise by this point.
(His memory of this night will eventually become tangled, but it'll also get burned in his mind. No matter how many people he will sleep with, even the next tumbles with Carlos, their first time together will never be forgotten. No matter how many times he wishes it gone.)
---------------
Months pass, and they continue with this dance, shared hotel rooms, and sneaky meetings across the paddock before they head back to have dinner. On non-racing weeks, they blow up their phone bills with international calls and constant texting. It was as dumb as it was young and free, and every time he stared in the mirror, he felt as if he'd de-aged.
The strange part is how sex slowly becomes a secondary reason for their meetings or calls. It's still common and the motive behind it, or so believes, but it's been gaining a more mundane side he can't bring himself to dislike. He tells Carlos about his family, how he figured out he wasn't straight, and how he fell in love with racing. It's soft and gentle, just like Carlos was during a sunny afternoon.
They don't talk about anything of significance. He doesn't know why Carlos was crying that day, but it doesn't matter. What they have is good even if he feels like they've crossed the "friends with benefits" line multiple times. He never gets so involved with his flings. He knows this isn't love, if it was he doubts he'd be able to continue hopping from one bed to the other. Yet he can't ignore its tenderness either.
Maybe that's why he finds himself in Carlos's apartment when it happens.
They should be preparing for the Hungarian Grand Prix. Another oddity of their arrangement is that their trainers know, it's useful for some things like acquiring keycards, but it hangs over him like a rain cloud. He suspects other drivers are catching on to it too. It's not as horrible as it should feel. He needs clearer boundaries and he's going to use the break to decide them, but his thought process is derailed by a string of spanish.
Carlos storms out of his bedroom, phone still in hand, and an angry expression. The German watches as he snaps his fingers three times and closes his eyes in an attempt to steady himself. Calmness, he has learned, doesn't come naturally to him, and most of the time it's induced by this strange trick.
"Are we killing someone?" He asks against his better judgment.
"No, It was just a disagreement." He sighs, "One I should be used to."
Here's another aspect that makes him doubt where he stands with the spaniard. By tone alone, he can tell his upset with his family. It's too intimate of a thing for him to know and yet... he wants to help. To add to the equation, summer break is near them, and with that his lover's departure to Spain. It'd be good for him to fly with an easy head instead of this anxious one.
(He needs to be away from him. He needs to decide what he needs to do with Carlos. He has made arrangements with his other flings to see them.)
"Talk to me?"
"Nico, you know what this is about." The younger sighs but lets himself fall on the chair he'd extended to him.
"I can only guess, meine taube." (my dove)
Carlos takes a long look at him, calculating the positives and negatives of speaking before nodding.
"Call with my dad, everything is normal until he decides to ask if I was done with the whole being gay thing. I said I'm not gay, I'm bisexual because I like both, and he asked if I needed to schedule an appointment with Dr. Ortega."
"And that's...?" He dared to ask.
"My behaviorist therapy from when I was a child." Carlos sighed. "I complained, he yelled, and now I'm not going to Spain."
"You're kidding," Nico said indignantly.
"Wish I was."
"Carlos, you have to go to Spain, your sister..."
"I know."
"You have to go!"
"I can't," he sighed in near despair. "I'm going to call Mom, maybe she can help but..."
"She doesn't know, and after your dad, you're not sure you can tell her."
"You are reading my mind today." Carlos chuckled without any humor.
Nico looked at his... person? Whatever they were, a bit confused. Sure, relationships with our families mattered, but he couldn't see how one conversation could change everything like this. Then again, none of their talks had been that profound.
"Can't you just go? Your dad is powerful, but he can't close the airport and prevent you from flying there."
"That's not the point." The spaniard pinched his nose bridge and looked at him. "He runs the family, Nico, I can't disobey him like that."
"He's preventing you from going to your sister's graduation. I think a rebellion is in place."
"It's really not. It's not like he's asking for much either."
It was his turn to look at the spaniard in disbelief. How was this not asking for much? He could understand that a parent could need some time to come to terms with their child's sexuality. Separating them from the rest as if he had a decease was where he drew the line. Carlos loved his baby sister so much, he did everything he could for her. How could Senior expect him to miss something so important? He knew they were treading into dangerous, personal, more-than-a-fling territory, so he waited for the younger to speak.
"Look, it might seem unjust, and maybe it is, but it's what he's asking of me. I can't change who I am, I can't do that... this is what I can."
"Why do you want to please him?"
"Because he's mi padre. He's done everything for me, the world's most supportive father. It's hard to say no to him. The last thing I want is to let him down. It's all I can do apparently, but I can do this. I have to do this."
There was a lot to unpack in that. He knew the spaniard had issues in part thanks to his faith, but now he wondered how much was due to Senior's opinion. There was also a clear underline fear of the man. He decided to save that deeper conversation for later, and now he had to convince him to take that plane.
"There's a difference between support and respect, Carlos." Nico smiles sadly at him. "One is not good without the other. It is not real either."
"He respects me."
"If he did then he wouldn't be doing this to you, don't you think?"
Carlos didn't answer. He simply let his head fall into his hands and rubbed his eyes. It was a lot to take in, and he truly wasn't the right person for this type of talk, but he felt the need to help. He didn't understand why he couldn't walk away from the spaniard. So he did the only thing he knew, he waited.
"What do you want me to do?" Carlos asked after a few minutes.
"Take that plane, be with your sister, and avoid your father"
"You want me to avoid the owner of the house?" He almost laughed.
"Call a favor on Fernando, stay with him," Nico suggested.
"He's visiting Mark in Australia."
"House sit for him."
Carlos lifted his head to stare at him. Something was unsettling about his gaze. He looked older than he was, wiser, but sadder. He wondered if he could see his desperation for him to leave. Did he know? Did he care that he was being selfish? Or was everything the same as usual, and this was just a hard choice?
"I'll go" he decided with a small smile. "I'll see if I can stay with Blanca, if necessary, but you're right. Ana's more important."
"Good," Nico said and leaned forward for a kiss.
"Good," he smiled as he accepted it.
(The goodbye at the door would be the last time, he thought of Carlos during the break. Or at least until he's alone and remembers how good he feels next to him. He'll think of his big eyes and how grateful they seemed towards him. )
----------------
Time continues to pass, and they remain together. Nico had been sure these growing feelings involving the spaniard would fade thanks to the distance and his ever-changing rounds of flings. Yet he was left unsatisfied after each time, so he feigned ignorance about why. It'd be a mistake to admit it. He needed to concentrate on what would come next.
(No eyes were dark enough. No skin was as tan nor as freckled. He needed to hear, feel, see him.)
In the end, he always called. He promised himself he wouldn't, but then the impulse would win, and the younger man would answer each time. As summer crept by, he became more familiar, and he could feel his attraction growing into something more than just physical. It was a mistake but one he seemed committed to making.
"I miss you," Carlos quietly admitted, and oh he heard it.
It made no sense to know so instinctively what the younger man meant with those three words and even less that it echoed through him. He missed Carlos as well, he wanted to feel and smell him while they hugged and see him gesturing as he explained. Somewhere in the middle of their tumbles into bed, he had become more than a convenient (easy) fuck. It was wrong, he didn't want to do it when he knew how it would end... but he wanted it to last a bit longer.
"I miss you too, maybe we could fly early and catch up?" He suggested
"I would love that," I love you is what he didn't say.
They ended the call shortly after and he made sure to message his assistant before he regretted it. He went to bed and forced himself to not think about it. This wasn't so serious, he was overthinking everything to an extreme.
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It takes them long enough to roll toward Singapore for trouble to arise. In retrospect, it should've been obvious that the younger wouldn't just sit around and wait for him. They weren't together even if they acted like that at times. Nico should've known that he wasn't the only one after Carlos. Sergio had warned him on Thursday after all, told him about how he should claim his territory better. A subtle hint to commit and not just fuck around. He'd laughed and done nothing. Now, he was watching how his spaniard danced with a guy at the club and fucking laugh with him.
The stupid part was that he dragged said man to the bathroom ten minutes later. The even dumber part was forgetting his spaniard's blood ran hot.
"What's wrong with you?" Carlos demanded.
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" He asked instead of simply saying I don't know.
"Nothing's wrong with me, I was having a great time after a decent race. I'm not having that because of you now, so I'd like my explanation."
"You know it's illegal here, right? You have to be more discrete, I was doing you a favor."
Carlos blinked at him before bursting into laughter. He looked like a madman as the walls echoed the sound and intensified it. Nico couldn't understand what could be so funny, for him to be crying over it. He'd rather the younger be angry than this.
"For the love of god, tell me you didn't just ruin my night because you were jealous."
"I..."
"Cause that'd make me angry, you know? You've got no leg to stand in this."
"Of course, I have a say" Nico protested "I'm your friend!"
"Yes, my friend. Not my boyfriend. You've made that clear."
Nico tilted his head to the side in disbelief. What was this about? As far as he was concerned, Carlos had never wanted to take things further with him. Not that they'd talked about it since the German had done his best to avoid the topic, but it wasn't like the younger had brought it up either.
"I didn't know you wanted that," was all he could say.
"You never bothered to ask." Carlos shot back before sighing "I know you don't want that. I'm fine with us just having sex. I don't mind you seeing other people because I don't have the place to be upset by it. Just like you don't have a say with me."
"I don't want you to."
"To what?"
"To see other people," Nico admitted.
"I don't want that for you, but I'm not your partner, or am I?"
Nico stared at hand and felt compelled to hit the wall in frustration. He shouldn't have done this in the first place. He should've found someone too and let it be, but no. He'd allowed his blood to boil and acted accordingly.
"I'm German, and I'm not meant to be so open about this," he complained like a child.
"Well I'm spanish, and I'm willing to compromise on many fronts, but this is not one of them." Carlos rolled his eyes as he said it before stepping closer. "Decide if I'm worth it Hulkenberg."
"You are, I just..."
Carlos sighed and moved closer to the sink, resting both hands on its counter to stabilize himself. It was clear that having serious conversations while they were both slightly tipsy wasn't the best move. He doubted they would be as honest otherwise. He silently waited for the younger to continue as he tried to reel his jealousy at the reminder of that stranger's kiss on his neck.
"I'm not asking you to marry me or even be my boyfriend. I'm asking where we stand because your liberties should be mine as well." He finally said, "I'm not going to stay at my hotel waiting for you to finish fucking someone and then come to me. If you can see people, I can too."
"I don't want you to," He repeated.
There lies the issue. Nico didn't want anything to tie him down. He wanted to enjoy his time in Force India as he traveled and drove. Countless parties awaited him, and with them, people to meet and enjoy. Yet the idea that his lover could meet someone new petrified him. A part of him knew they would last half a year at best, but he'd be able to keep him.
"I'm willing to," he stuttered.
"To what?"
"To say it. To be with you."
"Nico..."
"I think I could fall in love with you," he admitted.
"Don't lie. Not with that. No cuando yo tambien lo creo." (Not when I also think that.)
The German moved closer to him but did his best not to crowd him. He could see the doubt in those gorgeous eyes as well as some belief. Carlos also wanted him, but everything must be pulling him backward. It was probably harder for him, and he felt guilty for pushing something that wouldn't last. They both wanted it. Was it truly that bad to lie to get it?
"I'm not lying. I'll leave and wait if you need to think about it."
"Half an hour ago, you were making out with that girl." Carlos pointed out.
"Half an hour ago, I didn't know I could lose you."
It was a sweet statement if you didn't dig deeper. It wasn't an entire lie either, but he knew it did the trick. If the spaniard accepted him, then he swore he'd make an effort for him. He'd try to be kinder and deserve his affection. He'd help him let go of his doubts and internalized homophobia so that the right guy could take him when they eventually fell apart, but first, he'd enjoy him.
"Okay," he finally whispered. "Let's do this."
Nico smiled and only felt a tinge of guilt when they kissed. It was soft and sweet since he knew they'd need to take it slower. This was a chance to do right by someone who shone brighter than the sun and had more men after him than one could imagine. This would work, it had to.
They quietly went back inside to the chaos with a newfound peace. If Nico had held his waist most of the time to keep people at bay, only he would have known.
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In the end, he lasted two weeks until he broke his promise. He couldn't help but invite that sweet girl to get a coffee. Jessica was nice, pretty, and had gorgeous blue eyes that allowed him to forget about the heart he was breaking. How could he have imagined a paparazzi would catch their date and publish it?
Carlos had been the one who suggested they kept things quiet for the first few months, but that went to crap when Checo's welcoming act in the garage was to throw the tabloid in his face and ignore him. In fact, most of the drivers were sending funny looks his way. The weird part is that the driver who should be mad at him doesn't look or act like it.
Luckily, Jenson comes to sit next to him during the parade and offers an explanation even if it takes him a while to get to it.
"I thought you were smarter than to fumble Carlos," he chuckled.
"I didn't fumble. I had dinner with him and everything."
Jenson stared at him for a bit, clearly trying to decide if he was being lied to or not. They weren't that close, but it'd be a shame to lose his company over this.
"You cheated, didn't you?" He finally asks as he waves at the crowd.
"That's none of your concern."
The Brit's smile dropped and a more anxious one took its place. He even ran a hand through his hair before sighing, it didn't make sense for him to be like this. Sure, he might care for him but surely not to this degree?
"Listen. I come as a messenger. I don't know if you've noticed, but your boy has a strange but strong relationship with a tiny spaniard who's capable of committing a war crime for him."
"Tell him to focus on the Mercedes war like the rest of us."
Jenson laughed and patted his arm, all tension released now that he had delivered his message. They concentrated on answering the questions thrown their way and smiling for the cameras as the subject lay forgotten. Nico had undermined how popular his boyfriend was, but never mind it. He didn't care for the rest as long as he kept him.
"You know Carlos thinks it was a PR move, right?" Jenson asked after a while, as he took another sip.
"Are you gonna tell him?"
The british man gazed at him but said nothing. Nico wasn't sure of how good this was, but he'd made his bed, and now he'd lie in it for as long as he could. His sweet and gentle Carlos shone bright with naivety, and instead of stabbing him, it filled him with adrenaline. Maybe he could have both worlds, indulge and quiet his need for the spaniard while maintaining the public (and private) illusion of who he was. As long as he was careful and never felt the urge to keep someone, it would work.
"Don't hurt yourself Hulky," the driver finally said before adding. "Don't hurt him."
They find it difficult to keep talking after that.
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The next day, he is lying in bed with his boyfriend as they mindlessly enjoy their post-orgasmic state. They have nowhere to go and no one to please but themselves. These are the moments that make Nico believe in his decision to give this a go. How could he deny himself of such a pleasure? How could he ever live without knowing the ease that came from being with Carlos? He'd killed for more moments together, even if love wasn't always his main reason.
(If it was, then maybe he wouldn't have been with that blonde guy last night. They wouldn't have exchanged numbers afterward.)
He absently plays with the younger's hair as they list the most random things people have complained about them. It's stupid fun, but it's all worth it as he listens to that eagle laugh. He could drink it all up and still wish for more.
"Did you know I lost a relationship once because I couldn't sugarcode?" He prompted
"You're kidding."
"Apparently, answering a question with: well, you've never been good, isn't the best idea."
"You don't say," the younger laughed.
"I couldn't have known," he teased back.
Carlos rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at him. Which turned into a whole tickle fight that had him in tears. Nico took pleasure in kissing them away, even if he knew they were the good kind. Gods, his boyfriend still looked sinful whenever he cried. Finally, he held him closer to his chest and forced him to settle down. Back to perfection then, or at least until the younger broke the silence again.
"I like that you're direct, suicidally so."
"Really?"
"I'm surrounded by the poshest of the posh who can only talk in riddles, and any kind of honest reaction takes a shit ton of effort. I tend to be one. Your straightforwardness is more than nice. I don't have to doubt." He explained, and his cheeks progressively turned pink.
"You like that I ask to fuck you in a bathroom instead of a thousand roses with hints?"
"Nico, we're not fucking in the club's bathroom tonight. We're gonna get infected," the spaniard said resignedly.
"But you liked that I asked," he continued to tease.
For a small moment, Carlos's eyes turned sad as he smiled at him. There was a hint of acceptance and maybe pity in them, but it was so brief that one could wonder if it was ever there. The German felt compelled to ask, to hug him, and to take care of the young man, but he, too, lost the impulse rather quickly. He was just guilty from last night, that was all.
"Nunca voy a poder tener una charla sobre algo que no sea eso contingo, verdad?" he asked in a small voice (I'll never be able to talk with you about anything but that, right?)
"Let me get the universal translater liebling, that I lost that."
The spaniard laughed and smiled into the kiss being pressed against his lips. It was paradise, it was hell, but here was where Nico wanted to stay. He doubted he'd ever find more perfect lips or a better companionship. He knew no one would be as oblivious as him, and that was good. Carlos wouldn't get hurt if he didn't know. He could keep this slice of heaven with him.