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James peered down at the strip of track in front of the announcers’ box, watching as a blur of silver followed by two red blurs both on its tail. Lewis was lagging behind and Ted and Crofty were trying very hard to redeem him in the eyes of the adoring fans. The radio messages, however, were very telling. There was a problem with the car. It was Abu Dhabi 2014 all over again for Lewis’ car.
Down at the Mercedes garage, Niki was trying to fix the problem with the mechanics looking over the telemetry, the specs, over everything with them. James watched through the screens as his husband’s forehead wrinkled in agitations, aching to smooth the hard lines that had formed there in his old age. In his mind’s eye, he could remember when they were just starting to form, when dark curls still fell over the white of his forehead in stark relief. Back when he’s had to brush the curls away to kiss his forehead to make those lines go away if only for a moment. He’d been so wrapped up in the thought that he hadn’t noticed Crofty asking him a question.
“I wouldn’t say that.” James said, resorting to the line he’d always used – and always worked – whenever he’d missed the question.
Ted, predictably, rushed to explain. “Niki is clearly very agitated about the issue with Lewis’ car and it can’t be very good for his health worrying and stressing like this. Maybe he should think about honestly retiring soon?” He asked.
“Niki will retire when he’s dead, I think.” He chuckled fondly. “No, I think he tried to put up the appearance he’d moved on from racing but he’ll always love it. And so do I. You wouldn’t be able to chase us out if that’s what you’re trying to do.” He jibed, almost smirking at the blush that graced both of their faces.
“And miss all your anecdotes about man of steel, Niki Lauda?” Crofty laughed. “Never.”
They all smiled at each other and a static seemed to permeate on one of the team radios. Each of them started checking the teams. “Hold on, that sounds nasty-” Ted tried for reassuring but failed. One of the cars was seriously fucked. In fact, one of the cars was on fire.
“Jesus Christ.” James freezes in his seat, watching the car zip past them. Behind his eyelids he sees a flash of red spinning across the track and hitting the wall. He shoots up from his chair, gasping and clutching at his chest. He’s out of breath, out of time, out of place. He’s suddenly years younger standing on the edge of the wood as a familiar looking Ferrari angrily hits the wall, a man hanging from the tree above him films the entire thing but James can’t shake the shock that keeps him glued to these few moments he’d almost killed Niki. “Jesus…” He mutters, his eyes growing sticky and gleaming with unshed tears while someone behind him shakes him shouting his name. “Niki-”
“James, mate. Snap out of it!” One of them – Ted or Crofty or whoever else – slapped his squarely against his cheek and his eyes flit to one of the screens now zooming in on Toto and Niki screaming at the pit crew to stop standing there and do something useful, for the love of God. Another one of the screens show the car pulling into the pitlane, the pit crew scrambling to put the flames out. The silver livery was burned at the back where something seemed to have gone tits up with the engine and when Lewis gets out his white racing overalls are charred at his back, a dark looming sign of how close he’d been to an explosion. Another radio starts up and James turns it on after seeing that it’s Nico.
“What happened? What happened behind?” He asked, his voice muffled by static but his racing engineer was answering calmly, an admirable trait after having witnessed Lewis do a Katniss and catch fire.
“Engine failure, Nico.” His engineer informed him glibly. “Lewis is out of the race. I repeat, Lewis is out so you need to push-” He tried to talk sense into his driver but Nico cut him off, his voice going so high pitched and tinny and hysterical that James had to take it off of the air. “He’s fine, Nico.”
Nico was silent for a long moment and seemed as though he’d gained a couple of nanoseconds of lead. “He’s okay.” He seemed to whisper as his car sped past them again, it’s driver racing like a man possessed. The fans cheered, assuming it was to make up for the loss of points due to his teammate’s bad luck. By the time he’d gotten out of the car and won, Nico Rosberg kissed his wife half-heartedly and lifted the trophy in the air.
James stared at the wisp of a man smiling sadly at the thought that he could’ve been him in another world. A married man with only the memory of the only man he’d ever loved to comfort him, unable to admit it to anyone.
When he finally arrived at the hotel room, he wrapped his arms around Niki who was resting against the kitchen table making tea. “You know I love you more than anything, right?” He kissed the nape of his husband’s neck and felt the rumbled laughter that accompanied it.
“Where did this come from, then?” He turned in James’ grasp and wrapped his own arms around the Brit’s waist. “Is this about Ayrton and Alain’s wedding? Are you being sentimental?” he asked and James’ eyes went to their invitations still splayed out on the dining table. He hadn’t felt that sentimental, but he was happy that they were happy. He’d felt a kinship with Alain, having gone through Ayrton’s accident with less grace than James did Niki’s.
“Do you think it’s a curse?” He asked and Niki tilted his head, not enjoying being the clueless one in the conversation. “Rivalry is strange. You do hate the person but-” he struggled to find the words. “You also love them. It’s impossible not to.”
Niki cupped James’ face in his hands and pulled it down to brush a chaste kiss against James’ lips, guiding one of his hands to his beating heart seemingly catching on to exactly how worried James was for his health. “It’s because a rivalry doesn’t exist without mutual respect.” He patted the hand resting against him, feeling the beat of his heart. “Respect that more often than not turns to love.”
“So, it wasn’t my devilishly good looks?” He smirked, leaning forward to claim Niki’s lips again but Niki stopped him with a finger pressed firmly against his puckered lips.
“Your skill-” He rolled his eyes and air quoted. “Won me over. Your devilishly good looks were a bonus.” He yelped and James spun him around and kissed him, sighing against his husband. “Nico and Lewis will work things out.” He reassured before pushing James’ jacket off of him. “Now, take me to bed.”
“See?” James smirked and started nipping at his husband’s neck. “It’s the rivalry.”
James hadn’t worried too much about Nico and Lewis after that. They even seemed more amicable after the accidental arson Lewis committed on his car and himself. The next races were permeated by mind numbing tension and a shimmery almost transparent spark of hope in the team. James hadn’t thought much of it and even embraced the chance to get away from Formula 1 to attend Alain and Ayrton’s wedding.
Alain was chatting with someone, the blonde head of hair immediately familiar to both Niki and James. “Nico!” James greeted, the younger man standing straight at his call and turning to Niki with a stilted sort of smile like a teenager caught fondling a classmate in the back of his parents’ car.
“Niki, James.” He fidgeted, unlike the suave German-Finn he’d come to know and respect. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” Nico shrugged, taking hold of his senses – and manners – and shaking their hands.
“We didn’t know you were particularly close with Alain.” Niki nodded to his good friend, shaking his hand and congratulating him for the nuptials. James clasped Alain’s hand after him but quickly retreated to sling an arm over his husband’s shoulders.
Alain spoke, breaking the awkwardness. “Actually, Ayrton invited them. He’s very fond of your boys, Niki.” He picked up a glass from a passing waiter and raised it in Niki’s direction. “I think he thinks they remind him of us.” He chuckles and Niki looks oddly confused until it dawns on him.
James is about to ask when Ayrton arrives, dragging along another familiar individual and everything clicks into place.
“Niki! I’m a fan. You have two wonderful boys you’re managing.” Ayrton handed Lewis off to Nico, the Brit giving his apparent date a flute of some expensive looking champagne. “They’re quite adorable.”
“And quite the dynamic duo on the track.” Alain winks and the boys’ cheeks turn vivid pink from the praise.
“We’re not actually advertising. We were actually thinking about it- Well, we did. And we decided to wait-” Nico seemed unsure how to continue and Lewis stepped forward, silencing him.
“We wanted to wait and tell you. We were never able to come out.” He explained, holding Nico’s hand tightly in his. “But, we think it’s time. We think since you did it-” They nodded and looked at Niki. “We can too.”
Niki smirked at them. “It will be tough.” He admitted, turning to James with a smile. “But worth it.” James shook his head and nearly dipped Niki down into a kiss right then and there from the fondness.
“Rivalry, my dear ratty. It’s rivalry.”