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Fuck, that was a weird nap. He’d dreamt so much, so much he doesn't normally, and all about Nico as well. (That part is normal).
He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, not in a rush to go anywhere– if someone needs him, they’ll wake him up– and just sits for a while.
He hears a door open and listens close for who it might be. His question remains unanswered because someone, presumably the person who opened the door, says quite loudly, “What the fuck?”
Gabi finally opens his eyes and sees… not a lot of green. Which is strange. Because he fell asleep in the Sauber hospitality, which is very green. And black. And there's also not a lot of black. “What the fuck?” He echoes.
“Who– Who are you?” The person who opened the door, still standing in the door opening, says.
The first thought Gabi has is, Oh, he’s pretty. The second thought he has is that this guy– whoever he is– looks a lot like 2010 Nico. Which is impossible because it's not 2010.
“Where am I?” Gabi asks.
“Williams hospitality. Who are you? You're wearing a race suit, but not from any of the teams.” Not-Nico says.
“No, I’m… What?” Gabi has so many questions. Williams hospitality, so F1. How he ended up in the Williams hospitality, he doesn't know.
Hold on a second.
That's not Carlos Sainz. That's also not Alex Albon. Not even close, in fact. His brain helpfully supplies, Nico was in Williams in 2010. Gabi learnt a lot of things about Nico in the past year.
It’s not 2010. Is it? One way to find out. He mentally shrugs.
“What year is it?”
The way not-Nico looks at him tells him that maybe wasn’t the smartest question ever. Regardless, he answers his question; “2010.”
Shit.
“No it’s not.” Gabi responds.
“Yes it is. Are you on drugs?”
“Prove it to me.”
And for some fucking reason, not-Nico reaches out, grabs Gabi’s hand and drags him to a calendar on the wall, that very clearly says, 2010.
“Okay.”
“Why would it not be 2010?” Not-Nico asks.
“It’s… Okay, I go to sleep in 2025. I wake up, 2010.” Gabi explains.
“Time travel’s not possible.” Not-Nico says.
“That's why I didn't believe you when you said it was 2010!” Gabi exclaims.
Not-Nico is still holding his hand.
“Well, we have to tell someone. Maybe they can put you back to–”
“Are you Nico Hülkenberg?” Gabi interrupts.
“Yes. So, maybe they can put you back in 2025.” Nico continues, undeterred.
Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god.
“We’re teammates in 2025.” Gabi blurts out.
“Really? Is it a good team?” Nico asks, turning to him.
“No. Well, okay, you get a podium, but– Shit. I don't think I should say that.”
“Probably not. Tell me more.” Nico’s interested now.
“Nope.” Gabi grins. He has something Nico wants, which is fun. This is fun.
“Do you want to get back to 2025?” Nico asks instead.
“Yes. I have qualifying tomorrow.”
“So do I.”
Gabi’s encyclopedic knowledge of Nico starts rolling through his head again. 2010. First season. First pole position. Brazilian Grand Prix.
“Which race?”
“I’m not telling you that.” Nico says, frowning.
It's silent for a moment. Nico finally lets go of Gabi’s hand. He immediately misses the weight of it.
“Do you think 2010 me is in 2025? Cause I’d be, like, six, I think. That wouldn't be ideal.”
“I’m not an expert in time travel,” Nico says, grumpy, “If anything, you should be.”
What did he do to piss Nico off?
“We should ask my team principal if he knows how to fix this.” Nico says.
“No!” Gabi all but shouts. Nico raises an eyebrow at him. “I just– The less people that know I time travelled, the better.”
“And if you stay stuck here?”
“Um… Okay, good point. But let’s just wait, I dunno, 24 hours. We’ll see what happens after.” For some reason, Gabi doesn’t want to leave. Even though he has a perfectly good Nico in 2025, he’s having just as much fun annoying 2010 Nico. Maybe more.
“And do what? It’s not like you have a hotel here.” Nico has a point, unfortunately. However, Gabi has a solution.
He looks at Nico with what he likes to imagine are big, pleading eyes. Nico sighs.
“Absolutely not.”
“But–”
Apparently this Nico is just as weak to Gabi as he will be 15 years later.
“Fine. But we tell the team principal.” Nico compromises.
“Fine.”
And Gabi clearly cannot be normal about Nico in any iteration, because he’s pretty sure he blushes when Nico grabs his hand again, and leads the way to, presumably, the 2010 Williams team principal.
They stand, side by side, still holding hands, and Gabi feels like he’s back in school, like he’s about to be yelled at by a teacher.
“So let me get this straight. You’re from 2025. You woke up here, you have no idea how you got here and no idea how to leave. And you’re telling me because…”
“Nico made me.” Gabi says.
“Right, I forgot that part.” This man probably thinks he’s having a prank pulled on him and does not appreciate it. “What do you want me to do?”
Gabi shrugs.
The Williams team principal waves them away.
“That went great.” Gabi deadpans, turning to Nico the second they’re out of earshot.
“We need to sneak you out of here. You’re… quite noticeable in that race suit.” Nico looks him over.
He’s not wrong. Gabi’s a walking advertisement for every gambling company on the globe, and a few that swear they aren't gambling.
“You can wear some of my clothes. I have some, I think.”
When they get to Nico’s driver’s room he does, indeed, have a spare set of clothes. Nico hands them to him, then leaves again to let Gabi change in peace.
It feels a bit illegal to put on the Williams polo but, Gabi supposes, no one knows he’s a Sauber driver.
He follows Nico to his car, and attempts to make small talk during the drive to the hotel. Nico is not particularly receptive to it, just hm-ing and nodding while Gabi talks.
Then, out of nowhere, Nico says, “Are you and– and 2025 Nico dating?”
Gabi’s caught off guard. Because it’s 2010, and he’s known this Nico for maybe a few hours. Did he slip up, say something he shouldn't have? Is this a question he can answer? What are the rules of time travel, really?
“Why do you ask?” Gabi asks instead, smiling.
“I dunno. You’re pretty. I don’t see my perception of that changing in fifteen years. You clearly… um, like me. Me, me and me in 15 years, I think.” Nico stutters his way through the sentence. Cute.
“Yeah. We are.” Gabi smiles.
The rest of the car ride is… Not awkward, but tense, maybe. Gabi can't quite pick up his steady flow of yapping after Nico’s question. Luckily, it doesn't take much longer until they're at the hotel.
They take the stairs up to the second floor, then walk to Nico’s room.
Gabi closes the door behind himself.
Nico takes a deep breath, then starts asking a million questions about the future. Gabi stubbornly refuses to answer any questions about F1, but all the others are fair game.
“I feel like I’m playing 20 questions right now.” Gabi says, after what must have been ten minutes of non-stop talking.
After that, they're quiet for a moment, then Nico asks, “Can I kiss you?”
Gabi doesn't respond in words.