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The ballroom of the Grand Palais Hotel glittered like a jewellery box. Crystal chandeliers scattered warm gold light over polished marble floors, reflecting off glasses of champagne and the glossy black panels displaying sponsor logos.

The charity gala was one of those meticulously orchestrated evenings where wealth, sport, and publicity blended together in a carefully choreographed performance of goodwill.

Lewis hated it.

Not the charity part—that he respected—but the endless smiling, the handshakes, the polite laughter at jokes he’d heard a hundred times before.

Beside him, Jenson was handling it with his usual effortless charm.

“Lewis, this is Mr. Hayashi from our Tokyo partners,” one of the PR managers said brightly.

Lewis offered the practiced smile he had perfected over years in the spotlight. “Pleasure to meet you.”

They shook hands.

The conversation drifted toward sponsorship numbers, brand alignment, and marketing strategies. Lewis nodded in the right places but his attention had already started to wander.

Across the ballroom, banners advertised the evening’s main attraction: a figure skating exhibition performed by Olympic Figure Skaters on a temporary ice rink constructed in the adjoining hall.

He could almost feel the cool air from it through the open doors.

A breather. That was what he needed.

Jenson was already deep into conversation with two sponsors and a marketing director. Lewis leaned slightly closer.

“Got this?” he murmured.

Jenson shot him a suspicious look.

“Lewis—”

But Lewis was already slipping away through the crowd.

The corridor outside the ballroom was blissfully quiet.

Lewis loosened the collar of his suit as he walked, following the faint hum of refrigeration units keeping the ice rink frozen.

The double doors stood partially open.

He stepped inside.

The room was enormous, converted into a performance hall with rows of seating surrounding a gleaming sheet of ice. Technicians moved around adjusting lights while music played softly from speakers overhead.

The rink itself looked almost surreal—smooth and luminous under the spotlights.

Lewis wandered closer to the edge.

He didn’t immediately notice the figure moving across the ice.

Which was why, when someone spun directly toward him at alarming speed, he nearly walked straight into them.

There was a sharp scrape of blades cutting the ice.

The skater twisted mid-spin and stopped just inches from the boards.

Lewis blinked.

The man in front of him was tall, blond, and dressed in fitted black practice gear, cheeks flushed from exertion. His skates were still angled toward Lewis as if he might launch back into motion at any moment.

Blue eyes narrowed.

“You do realise this is an ice rink,” the skater said sharply, his German accent crisp, “not a paddock?”

Lewis blinked again.

“Well,” he shot back instantly, “you nearly knocked me down with that spin.”

The skater scoffed.

“You walked into a restricted rehearsal area.”

“There were no signs.”

“There were doors.”

Lewis crossed his arms. “And you were coming at me like a human tornado.”

The skater pushed a hand through his hair, clearly irritated. “I was practicing.”

“Practicing what, exactly? Attempted manslaughter?”

Behind him, laughter echoed across the rink.

Lewis looked past the blond skater.

Another man stood further out on the ice, leaning on the boards with an expression of pure delight. Dark curls escaped from under a knit cap and his bright smile made it clear he was enjoying the scene immensely.

“Nico,” he called cheerfully, “Du hättest beinahe einen Formel-1-Fahrer angefahren.” (“Nico, you almost hit a Formula One driver.”)

Lewis turned back.

“Nico?”

The blond skater lifted his chin slightly. “Ja.”

Lewis’ eyes widened a fraction.

“Oh.”

Now he recognised him. Olympic gold medalist.

Nico Rosberg.

“Well,” Lewis said, recovering quickly, “that explains the dramatic entrance.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed further. “And you are?”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

The other skater glided closer, pushing off gracefully until he reached the boards beside Nico. He looked between them with open curiosity.

He said brightly, recognition dawning. “You’re Lewis Hamilton.”

Lewis gave a mock bow.

“Guilty.”

“And this,” the curly-haired skater added, gesturing beside him, “is Nico Rosberg, who apparently tries to kill guests now.”

“I did not—”

“You absolutely did,” the other man said, laughing.

Lewis smirked.

“Ich mag ihn.” The other skater nudged Nico, and spoke in German. To which Nico looked deeply unimpressed by. (“I like him”)

Lewis didn’t know any German to tell what he said to Nico, to give him such a look. The second skater grinned, and came forward with his hand out.

“I’m Sebastian Vettel.” Lewis nodded in greeting and shook his outstretched hand.

Sebastian seemed delighted by the chaos unfolding in front of him. “I have never seen Nico argue like this before,” he said conversationally. “Usually he is very composed.”

“Ich bin gefasst,” Nico snapped. (“I am composed.”)

Lewis tilted his head.

“Fraglich.” Sebastian laughed again. “Someone finally one-upped him.” (“Debatable.”)

Nico glared at both of them. “Can we please continue practicing now?” He switched back to English, and looked towards Sebastian.

Lewis gestured dramatically toward the ice. “By all means. Just warn people before launching missile spins.”

“You walked into the rink!”

“You nearly hit me!”

“Oh my god,” Sebastian said happily, “this is wonderful.”

Jenson had been abandoned.

Again.

He smiled politely at the sponsors gathered around him, nodding at something one of them was saying about global branding strategy, but internally he was already plotting Lewis’ demise.

Lewis had that particular talent—slipping away at exactly the moment the conversation turned into serious sponsor schmoozing.

And somehow Jenson was always the one left holding the conversation together.

“…and of course McLaren’s image aligns perfectly with Puma’s new direction,” one of the executives was saying.

“Yes, absolutely,” Jenson replied smoothly.

He glanced around the ballroom. Lewis was nowhere to be seen.

Of course he wasn’t.

Jenson maintained the polite smile for another minute before excusing himself. “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment.”

He slipped away through the crowd, adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket as he went.

Lewis had better not be hiding somewhere with a stronger drink than the champagne being served, and food that is not these fancy hors d’oeuvres. Which he can’t even begin to pronounce.

Or worse—talking to someone interesting while Jenson was trapped discussing marketing strategies.

The ballroom doors opened into a quiet corridor. Jenson walked down it slowly, scanning the adjoining rooms.

Then he heard voices.

Raised voices.

Jenson stopped.

The sound was coming from behind the double doors of the temporary performance hall—the one where the skating exhibition was supposed to happen later that evening.

One of the voices was unmistakable.

Lewis.

The other voice sounded…German.

Sharp.

Annoyed.

Jenson sighed.

Of course Lewis had started something.

He pushed the doors open. Cold air rushed out immediately. The enormous hall was mostly empty, lit by overhead practice lights. The ice rink gleamed under them like glass.

And right at the edge of the rink—Lewis was arguing with a figure skater. Not just any figure skater. Jenson recognised him immediately.

Nico Rosberg.

Standing on the ice in full practice gear, skates angled sharply toward the boards as he glared down at Lewis.

“You walked onto the ice!” Nico was saying.

“There weren’t any signs!” Lewis shot back.

“It is a skating rink!”

“And you nearly ran me over!”

Jenson blinked.

Five seconds into the scene and he already had a headache.

A few meters away on the ice stood another skater watching the entire exchange with open amusement. He had curly hair peeking out from under a knit cap and the brightest grin Jenson had ever seen.

He looked delighted.

Jenson stepped forward, ready to unleash a carefully prepared lecture.

“Lewis Hamilton.”

Lewis visibly winced.

Jenson planted his hands on his hips.

“You disappeared,” he said. “Do you have any idea how many sponsors I had to charm alone?”

Lewis gave him a sheepish grin.

“You’re good at it.”

Jenson opened his mouth to continue the scolding. Then the other skater skated effortlessly toward the boards. He moved with an easy grace that made the ice look almost frictionless.

When he stopped in front of Jenson, he leaned comfortably against the barrier and smiled.

“Hello.”

Jenson blinked.

The man’s expression was warm, curious, and completely unbothered by the argument happening two meters away. Up close, Jenson noticed the freckles across his nose and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

It was… disarming.

“Hi,” Jenson said.

The skater held out a gloved hand.

“I’m Sebastian.”

Jenson took it automatically.

“Jenson.”

Sebastian’s smile widened even further. For some reason the handshake lingered a second longer than necessary.

Behind them, Lewis and Nico were still going.

“You were spinning directly at me!”

“That is how skating works!”

“You could’ve warned me!”

“I assumed you had eyes!”

Jenson glanced over his shoulder, then back at Sebastian. Sebastian leaned slightly closer with the conspiratorial air of someone sharing a secret.

“They’ve been arguing for about five minutes.”

Jenson blinked again.

“Five?”

Sebastian nodded cheerfully.

“Nico is usually very calm,” he added. “I have never seen him argue this much.”

As if on cue, Nico snapped, “You walked into the rink!”

“And you nearly killed me!”

Jenson rubbed a hand over his face. “Impressive,” he muttered.

Sebastian laughed softly.

Jenson found himself watching the way his shoulders shook when he laughed, the easy brightness of his expression.

His brain supplied a completely unfiltered thought.

Sunshine.

Behind them, Lewis gestured dramatically at Nico. “He tried to run me over.”

“I did not!”

Jenson sighed. “What did you do now?”

Lewis pointed accusingly at Nico.

“He started it.”

Nico looked deeply offended. “I did not!”

Sebastian leaned toward Jenson again, clearly enjoying himself. “This is very entertaining.”

Jenson had to admit—it was. The term of endearment, it just slipped out before he could stop it “Well Sunshine, it’s not everyday you have a Formula One driver and Olympic figure skater in a room.”

The word hung in the air. Jenson froze.

Sebastian blinked at him.

Jenson blinked back.

Then Sebastian laughed—a warm, delighted sound. “Wow, never heard that one before,” he said.

Jenson rubbed the back of his neck. “I meant—your energy, your smile. Very… sunny.”

“I like it,” Sebastian said happily.

Jenson felt oddly pleased about that.

A stage coordinator suddenly appeared at the entrance. Stopping all conversations, mid sentence “Gentlemen, we need everyone seated. The performance starts in twenty minutes.”

Sebastian straightened immediately.

“Oh! We should go.”

He pushed himself away from the boards and skated backwards effortlessly. Before he left, he flashed Jenson another bright smile.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Jenson said.

He watched Sebastian glide back across the ice beside Nico. Lewis was still glaring at him like they were ten-year-olds fighting over playground rules.

Jenson shook his head. “You started a fight with an figure skater, not just any figure skater, but Nico Rosberg.”

“He started it,” Lewis insisted.

“Lewis.”

“He did.”

Jenson sighed.

Then he glanced back at the ice just as Sebastian waved at him cheerfully. Jenson waved back before he could stop himself.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, the word returned again.

Sunshine.

Backstage always smelled the same. Cold air, hairspray, and the faint metallic bite of the ice beneath the floor.

Nico stood in front of the mirror while one of the makeup artists finished brushing a thin line of shadow along his eyelids. The costume—midnight blue with silver detailing that caught the light—fit perfectly across his shoulders.

Normally, this moment before a performance was quiet.

Focused.

Controlled.

Tonight, however—

“Du hast mit ihm gestritten.” (“You argued with him.”) Sebastian’s voice came from behind him, an unmistakable sound of suppressed laughter.

Nico closed his eyes briefly.

“Sebastian.”

Across the room, Sebastian sat sideways in a chair while a stylist adjusted the fastening of his costume. His outfit was lighter—soft silver fabric that reflected the rink lights like frost.

His grin was impossible to ignore. “Du hast fünf Minuten lang mit ihm gestritten.” (“You argued with him for five minutes.”)

“Ich tat es nicht.” (“I did not.”)

“Das hast du auf jeden Fall getan.” (“You absolutely did.”)

Nico turned around. “Ich habe mich verteidigt.” (“I defended myself.”)

Sebastian’s grin widened. “Von einem Formel-1-Fahrer, der die Eisbahn betrat.” (“From a Formula One driver who walked into the rink.”)

“Er wurde beinahe getroffen.” (“He nearly got hit.”)

“Er tat es nicht.” (“He did not.”)

“Er stand am falschen Ort.” (“He was standing in the wrong place.”)

Sebastian leaned back in his chair. “Ich habe noch nie erlebt, dass dich jemand so schnell verärgert hat.” (“I have never seen someone annoy you that quickly.”)

Nico folded his arms. “Er hat damit angefangen.” (“He started it.”)

Sebastian tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Er ist allerdings recht attraktiv.” (“He’s quite handsome though.”)

Nico stared at him. “Was?” (“What?”)

Sebastian shrugged innocently. “Lewis Hamilton. Sehr gutaussehend.” (“Lewis Hamilton. Very handsome.”)

Nico scoffed immediately. “Bitte.” (“Please.”)

“Er ist.” (“He is.”)

Nico waved a dismissive hand. “Dann kannst du ihn haben.” (“You can have him then.”)

Sebastian burst into laughter. “Nein, danke.” (“No, thank you.”)

“Oh?”

Sebastian’s expression shifted into something softer, more thoughtful. “Ich habe nur Augen für die andere.” (“I only have eyes for the other one.”)

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Der Teamkollege?” (“The teammate?”)

Sebastian nodded happily.

Jenson Button.

“Er ist sehr charmant,” Sebastian continued dreamily. “Hübsches Gesicht, strahlendes Lächeln…” (“He is very charming, handsome face, bright smile…”)

Nico blinked slowly.

“Du hast dreißig Sekunden lang mit ihm gesprochen.” (“You spoke to him for thirty seconds.”)

Sebastian ignored him. “Und er nannte mich Sonnenschein.” (“And he called me Sunshine.”)

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose. “Du bist unglaublich.” (“You are unbelievable.”)

“Außerdem,” Sebastian added cheerfully, “stritt er sich mit niemandem.” (“Also, he did not argue with anyone.”)

Nico huffed.

A stage assistant poked their head through the curtain.

“Two minutes.”

The room shifted instantly.

The joking faded.

Sebastian hopped off the chair and rolled his shoulders, expression settling into focus.

Nico turned back to the mirror one last time. Breathing steady. Heart calm.

This part was familiar.

Predictable.

Reliable.

Unlike certain racing drivers.

Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. “Versuche, beim Skaten nicht an Lewis zu denken.” (“Try not to think about Lewis while we skate.”)

Nico shot him a look. “Ich werde nicht an ihn denken.” (“I'm not gonna be thinking about him.”)

Sebastian’s grin returned.

“Natürlich bist du das nicht.” (“Of course you aren’t.”)

The lights in the arena dimmed. Music began softly—piano notes echoing through the hall.

The cold air hit Nico’s lungs as he stepped onto the ice. And immediately everything sharpened. This was the place he understood best. The rink glowed beneath the spotlights, smooth and endless.

Sebastian glided beside him.

Their blades cut the ice together with a quiet, familiar rhythm.

One push.

Then another.

The opening sequence began slowly.

They circled each other, tracing mirrored arcs across the rink. Years of training meant they didn’t need to look. Nico could feel Sebastian’s timing beside him like a second heartbeat.

The music swelled.

They accelerated.

Sebastian launched into the first jump—a clean triple axel that carried him high above the ice.

Half a second later Nico followed. They landed almost simultaneously, blades striking the ice with perfect precision.

The audience gasped.

They transitioned seamlessly into the next sequence.

Footwork.

Turns.

Their shoulders nearly brushed as they crossed paths again and again, each movement perfectly aligned. Nico’s focus narrowed to the rhythm of the music and the glide of the ice beneath him.

Spin entry.

He reached for Sebastian’s hand. They rotated together, bodies leaning outward as the spin tightened.

Faster.

Faster.

The lights blurred around them. Then they broke apart in perfect synchronisation. Sebastian’s expression glowed with bright, effortless joy. Nico matched him, movement for movement.

Step sequence.

Edges carving intricate patterns across the ice.

A lift.

Sebastian’s hands braced against Nico’s shoulders as Nico guided the movement, raising him briefly before lowering him back into the flow of the routine.

The audience was silent now.

Completely absorbed.

They built toward the final section. Two jumps. A triple axel, and a double toe loop.

Back to back.

Sebastian first.

Then Nico.

Both landed clean.

The final spin began.

They circled inward toward each other, movements tightening with the crescendo of the music.Then the ending pose. Sebastian leaning slightly against Nico’s shoulder.

The music stopped.

For half a second—

Silence.

Then the entire hall erupted into applause.

Nico straightened, breathing steady. Sebastian bowed deeply beside him. As Nico lifted his head, his gaze flicked briefly toward the front rows of the audience.

And there—leaning forward in his seat—was Lewis Hamilton. Watching with an intensity Nico hadn’t expected.

Lewis raised an eyebrow slightly. A challenge. Or approval.

Nico couldn’t quite tell. He looked away first.

Sebastian nudged him lightly. “Ich habe es dir gesagt.” (“Told you so.”)

Nico frowned. “Was hat er mir gesagt?” (“Told me what?”)

Sebastian’s grin returned.“Er schaute zu.” (“He was watching.”)

They crossed paths again backstage. Lewis and Jenson pushed through the crowd gathered, all congratulating Nico and Sebastian. Handing them flowers, and exchanging words.

“Nico, that was amazing.” Lewis admitted.

Nico folded his arms.

“Thank you.”

“You almost didn’t make that jump,” Lewis added casually.

Nico scoffed.

“Please.”

Sebastian was practically vibrating with happiness.

“Did you like it?”

Jenson nodded. “It was incredible.”

Sebastian beamed.

Before anyone could say more, two of their PR managers appeared. “Perfect,” one said brightly. “You’re all here, and I see you have all met already.”

Lewis immediately felt suspicious.

“What’s happening?”

The PR manager, Sophie, clasped her hands together. “This is perfect. We’re thrilled to announce a new collaboration with Puma.”

Lewis blinked.

“And?”

“Well,” she continued, smiling brightly, “since McLaren, Nico, and Sebastian are all ambassadors, we thought a cross-sport campaign would be fantastic.”

Lewis slowly turned his head toward Nico, he looked equally horrified.

“You’re joking,” Lewis said.

“Not at all,” Sophie replied. “Drivers on the ice. Skaters in the racing simulator. Photoshoot. The whole thing.”

Nico narrowed his eyes at Lewis.

Lewis smirked.

“This should be fun.”

“Oh, it will be,” Nico said tightly.

Sebastian looked delighted. Jenson chuckled quietly.

“Well,” he said, “this is going to be chaos.”

Sebastian nodded happily.

“But good chaos.”

Lewis and Nico were still staring at each other like competitive children ready to start another argument.

Jenson leaned toward Sebastian.

“I think they’ve finally met their match.”

Sebastian grinned.

“Yes.”

Then he added cheerfully, “This will be very entertaining.”

~

The indoor training rink rented by Puma had been transformed into something halfway between a sports facility and a commercial set.

Huge soft box lights hung from scaffolding around the ice. Cameras sat on rolling rigs. Assistants moved everywhere carrying garment bags, skates, microphones, and bottles of water. The Puma logo stretched across banners behind the rink boards in sleek black lettering.

In the center of it all stood four athletes who looked like they had been dragged here under varying levels of protest.

Lewis was already shaking his head as a production assistant handed him a pair of skates.

“These look dangerous,” he said.

“You drive at 300 kilometres per hour,” Nico replied, already on the ice with his skates.

Lewis turned towards Nico and pointed at the blades. “Yeah, but my shoes don’t have knives attached.”

Still standing on the ice, Nico folded his arms.

“They are not knives.”

Lewis glanced at him.

“They absolutely are.”

The director clapped loudly. “Okay! We’re shooting the first segment: drivers try skating!”

Lewis groaned.

A few minutes later Lewis and Jenson stepped cautiously onto the ice. Jenson wobbled slightly, gripping the barrier for balance.

“Right,” he said calmly. “This feels… unsafe.”

Beside him, Sebastian glides effortlessly toward him. “Don’t worry,” Sebastian said warmly. “I’ll help you.”

Jenson looked at him.

Then at the ice.

Then back at Sebastian.

“Well Sunshine,” he said thoughtfully, “that sounds reassuring.”

The nickname made Sebastian’s ears turn pink. He held out both his hands and Jenson took them without hesitation.

“Careful,” Sebastian said gently, guiding him forward. “Small steps first.”

Jenson leaned slightly closer than necessary.

“Like this?”

“Yes, exactly—”

Jenson wobbled dramatically and grabs Sebastian’s waist.

Sebastian laughs. “You are exaggerating.”

“I am not,” Jenson said with complete seriousness. “You’re the only thing keeping me alive.”

Behind them, the camera crew was quietly delighted. They move slowly across the rink. Sebastian stays patient, adjusting Jenson’s posture and guiding his movements.

“Bend your knees slightly,” he said.

Jenson nodded.

“Right.”

He did exactly as instructed.

Sebastian smiled brightly. “That’s very good.”

Jenson felt absurdly pleased. “You’re a very good teacher.” Sebastian shrugged bashfully. “You are a very good student.”

Jenson grinned. “Only because my instructor is very motivating.”

Sebastian blushed again.

Meanwhile, Lewis has decided that instructions were optional.

“I don’t need the rail,” he declared.

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose. “You absolutely do.”

Lewis stepped onto the ice. He lasts exactly two seconds. His feet slid apart. And he goes down spectacularly.

The entire crew bursts into laughter.

Nico laughs the loudest. “Oh my god! Are you alright?”

Lewis lays on the ice staring up at the ceiling. Taking in the moment and then. “I hate this sport.”

“You fell immediately.”

Lewis pointed at him. “Don’t start.”

Nico skates over. “You’re supposed to listen when someone explains the movement.”

“I was listening.”

“No you were not.”

Lewis stands again stubbornly. Shooing away Nico’s hand as he bends down to help Lewis up. “I’ve got it.”

He attempted a glide. Another fall.

Nico doubles over laughing.

“Stop laughing!”

“You look like a newborn giraffe!”

Lewis glares at him. “I am not holding the rail.”

“Then hold my hand.”

“No.”

“Lewis, come on.”

“No.”

Lewis tries again. Another wobble. Another near fall. Finally he exhales sharply. “Fine.”

He holds out his hand, and Nico takes it. “Now listen,” Nico said patiently. “Shift your weight slowly—”

Lewis steps forward. His foot slips again. For a split second he is tipped sideways. But Nico reacts instantly. His arm wraps around Lewis’ waist, pulling him upright before he hits the ice.

They freeze.

Lewis’ hand still gripping Nico’s. Nico’s arm steady around him. For a moment neither of them move. They were suddenly very close.

Lewis blinks.

Nico clears his throat.

Then—

“CUT!” The director’s voice echos across the rink.

Both of them step apart immediately. Lewis rubbing the back of his neck. “Right.” Nico looking suspiciously pleased. “You are improving.”

Lewis narrows his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

Later that afternoon the filming moved to the simulator room. A sleek racing rig sat in the middle of the studio, surrounded by screens showing a digital track.

Lewis crosses his arms confidently. “This,” he said, “is my territory.”

Nico slides into the seat first. “You say that.”

Lewis watches as Nico adjusts the wheel like someone who had done this before.

“You’ve done this before?”

Nico shrugged casually. “My father was a former driver and world champion.”

Lewis frowned. “That doesn’t mean—”

The simulator lights flash green. Nico launches onto the track. His lap was fast. Very fast. When the time appeared on the screen Lewis stared.

“That’s impossible.”

Nico leans back smugly. “You think I grew up without racing simulators and karting?”

Lewis points at the monitor. “You beat my time.”

“Yes, it seems I did.”

Across the room Sebastian sat in another simulator. He immediately spins the car, it rotates across the track like a confused ballerina and is in the wall.

Sebastian bursts into laughter.

“Scheiße! Oh no!”

Jenson pulls up a chair beside him. “Okay,” he said patiently. “Let’s try again.”

Sebastian wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes. “I am very bad at this.”

“That’s fine,” Jenson said warmly. “I’m an excellent teacher.”

Sebastian glances at him. “Are you now?”

Jenson grins right back. “Absolutely.”

He leans forward, pointing at the controls. “Ease the throttle.” Sebastian follows the instructions carefully. The car lasts slightly longer this time before spinning.

Sebastian laughs again. “Scheiße! This is impossible.”

Jenson chuckles. “You’re doing great, Sunshine.”

Sebastian immediately turns pink. “You said it again.”

“I did.”

Sebastian looks away, shyly, but pleased all the same.

The final segment of the campaign happens on a massive studio set, and racks of the new merchandise. The athletes wore a mix of racing gear, the new McLaren merch and skating outfits from the new line.

The photographer claps loudly.

“Alright! Group shot!”

Lewis stands beside Nico, arms folded.

“This pose is terrible.”

Nico scoffs. “You’re standing wrong.”

“I’m standing perfectly.”

“You look stiff.”

“You look smug.”

“Because I beat your lap time.”

“That was luck.”

“Sure.”

Nearby Sebastian and Jenson were trying not to laugh.

The photographer groaned.

“Gentlemen. Please cooperate.”

Lewis turns slightly toward Nico to argue again. At the exact same moment Nico leans closer to make a point. Almost bumping their heads together.

They stop mid-sentence. Both of them laughing suddenly. Leaning closer than they realised. The camera flashed rapidly.

“Perfect!” the photographer shouted.

The crew exchanged knowing glances. The chemistry between them was obvious. Except, apparently, to the two men themselves.

Behind them Sebastian whispered to Jenson, “How are they competitive in everything they do?Jenson only smiled at him, still looking at Lewis and Nico bickering at something else.

“Yeah.”

He glanced at the camera screen showing Lewis and Nico laughing together. “They’ve definitely met their match.”

~

The air in the paddock at the Spanish Grand Prix buzzed with a restless kind of energy. Engines roared in the distance as cars completed their final practice laps. Mechanics hurried through the garage with tool kits and tyre trolleys. The scent of fuel, rubber, and hot asphalt hung thick in the warm Catalan air.

For Sebastian it felt like stepping into an entirely different universe. “Das ist unglaublich,” he says for the third time in five minutes. (“This is incredible.”)

Beside him, Nico smirks. “Das hast du schon gesagt.” (“You’ve said that already.”)

Sebastian ignores him, leaning over the barrier to watch mechanics push a car down the pit lane. The sleek silver and red machine gleamed under the sun.

“Es geht so schnell,” Sebastian continued, eyes bright. “Und laut. Viel lauter als der Simulator.” (“It’s so fast, and loud. Much louder than the simulator.”)

“Du warst genau zweimal in einem Simulator,” Nico pointed out. (“You’ve been in a simulator exactly twice.”)

“Das war genug.” (“That was enough.”)

They were standing just outside the McLaren garage, both of them wearing team guest passes around their necks. The invitation had come from the drivers themselves after the wildly successful Puma campaign.

Sebastian’s grin hadn’t faded since they arrived.

Nico noticed.

“Du starrst schon wieder auf die Garage.” (“You’re staring at the garage again.”)

Sebastian straightens quickly. “Das bin ich nicht.” (“I am not.”)

“Das bist du auf jeden Fall.” (“You absolutely are.”)

Sebastian tries to look casual but fails miserably. “Ich freue mich darauf, das Rennen zu sehen.” (“I’m excited to watch the race.”)

Nico tilts his head. “Du freust dich darauf, Jenson zuzusehen.” (“You’re excited to watch Jenson.”)

Sebastian’s checks go pink immediately. “Vielleicht.” (“Maybe.”)

Nico laughs. “Ihr beiden schreibt euch seit dem Wahlkampf ständig SMS.” (“You two have been texting constantly since that campaign.”)

Sebastian’s ears turn even redder. “Wir unterhalten uns nur.” (“We’re just talking.”)

“Reden.” (“Talking.”)

“Ja.” (“Yes.”)

“Du bist letztes Wochenende nach London geflogen.” (“You flew to London last weekend.”)

Sebastian clears his throat. “Das war… Zufall.” (“That was… coincidence.”) Nico bursts out laughing. “Du bist schrecklich darin, das zu verbergen.” (“You are terrible at hiding this.”)

Sebastian nudges him lightly.

“Sei nett.” (“Be nice.”)

Nico grins. “Ich bin nett.” (“I am being nice.”)

Then he adds with a teasing lilt, “Sunshine.”

Sebastian groaned. “Bitte hör auf.” (“Please, stop.”)

Inside the garage, the drivers were finishing their final preparations. Lewis stood near the car speaking with his engineers while adjusting the collar of his race suit.

Jenson spotted the skaters first.

“Hey!”

Sebastian immediately lit up.

Jenson walks over, helmet tucked under one arm. “You made it.”

“Of course we did,” Sebastian said happily.

Jenson’s smile softens. Up close, the bright expression Sebastian always carries felt even warmer.“Good to see you, Sunshine.”

Sebastian blushed instantly. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it fits.”

Nico watches the exchange with great amusement. “You two are ridiculous,” he said. Jenson laughs. “We prefer charming.”

Behind them Lewis finally notices Nico. “Well, well, well, look who’s here.”

Nico crosses his arms. “I came to see if you survive the race.”

Lewis smirks. “How kind.”

Nico shrugged. “I’m very supportive.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow. “Sure you are.”

Sebastian claps his hands excitedly. “This is going to be amazing.”

Jenson grins. “Wait until the start.”

The race itself was chaos.

From the garage, Nico and Sebastian watched the lights go out and the cars explode down the straight. The sound was overwhelming.

Sebastian leans forward instinctively as the field charged into the first corner. “Oh mein Gott.” (“Oh my God.”)

Nico couldn’t help smiling. Even though he’d grown up around motorsport, it still felt different watching it like this. Especially when he knew one of the drivers personally. Lewis’ car darted through traffic with precision.

Sebastian gasped every few laps. “Dieses Überholmanöver war Wahnsinn!” (“That overtake was insane!”)

“Entspannen, Sebastian.” Nico said, though he was leaning forward just as much. (“Relax, Sebastian.”)

“Und schau mal! Da ist Jenson, glaube ich.” The McLaren slips past another car on the inside. (“And look! There is Jenson, I think.”)

Sebastian claps loudly. “Das ist unglaublich!” (“This is incredible!”)

Hours later, when the chequered flag finally fell, the garage erupted in celebration.

P2 and P3.

A strong result.

Sebastian barely waits before running toward Parc Fermé.

Jenson climbs out of the car, and celebrates with the team, another double podium finish. Taking his helmet and balaclava off, he makes his way to the small table set up with his watch, a bottle water and a small towel.

“Jenson!”

He hears someone call his name, assuming that its one of his mechanics or engineer.

He turns.

Sebastian was practically bouncing near the barriers, squeezing past his team.

Jenson blinks in surprise.

“You’re here already? How are you here already?”

Sebastian reaches him and immediately wraps him in a hug. Jenson laughs and returns it without hesitation. He helps Sebastian climb over the barriers and slides his arms around his waist.

He lifts him slightly off the ground, spinning him gently, before setting him back down.

“You did amazing,” Sebastian said breathlessly.

“Thank you, Sunshine.”

Sebastian leans closer, voice dropping slightly. “Watching you drive was incredible.”

Jenson chuckled.

“Yeah?”

Sebastian nods enthusiastically. “And also…” He hesitated. “…a little bit of a turn on.”

Jenson stared at him. Then he burst out laughing.

“Really?”

Sebastian shrugs sheepishly. “The race suit. The fireproofs underneath.”

Jenson shakes his head, still smiling.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Sebastian grinned.

Nearby, Nico had witnessed the entire exchange. He walked over slowly. “Sehr subtil, Sebastian.” he murmurs in German. (“Very subtle, Sebastian.”)

Sebastian bats him away.

“Ach komm schon, du wolltest ihn doch genau hier in der Garage anspringen.” (“Oh come on, you wanted to jump him right here in the garage.”)

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “Nico!”

Jenson frowns slightly. “What did he say?”

Sebastian’s face turned bright red.

“Nothing.”

Nico smirked. “I said, he wanted to jump—”

“Nico!”

Jenson laughs.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t nothing.” Sebastian buries his face briefly in Jenson’s shoulder.

Across the paddock, Lewis stood surrounded by the McLaren crew celebrating the double podium result. Nico watches him for a moment.

Then he walks over.

Lewis notices him approaching.

“Well,” Lewis said. “You survived the race.”

“Barely,” Nico replies.

Lewis laughs.

Nico nods toward the cars. “That was a good drive.”

Lewis looks surprised. “…thank you.”

A brief silence follows. Then Lewis shrugs.

“Watching you skate made me appreciate the balance more.”

Nico smirks slightly. “And falling.”

“Especially falling.”

They both laugh.

It was strange.

Their conversations usually ends in arguments. But this one didn’t.

Lewis leans casually against the barrier. “So,” he said, glancing toward Sebastian and Jenson laughing together, “Looks like our friends are doing well.”

Nico smiles.

“Yes.”

He glances back at Lewis.

“You really drove well today.”

Lewis nodded.

“Thanks.”

For once, neither of them felt the need to argue. And somehow that surprised them both.

~

Rain fell in steady sheets over the circuit as dark clouds swallowed the sky above the Canadian Grand Prix. From the glass wall of the McLaren garage, the track looked almost silver beneath the flood of water pouring onto it.

“Es wird Chaos geben,” muttered Nico. (“It’s going to be chaos.”)

Beside him, Sebastian watched the cars line up in the pit lane, arms folded tightly. The noise of the engines vibrated through the garage even from behind the barriers.

Sebastian exhaled slowly. “Finden die Rennen tatsächlich bei diesem Wetter statt?” (“Do they actually race in this weather?”)

Nico nodded.

“Ja.” (“Yes.”)

“Das erscheint… leichtsinnig.” (“That seems… reckless.”)

Nico smiles faintly. “Das ist die Formel 1.” (“That is Formula One.”)

Sebastian glances toward the pit lane where the McLarens sit ready. Jenson sat in one cockpit. Lewis in the other. He felt the same familiar twist of nerves he always has before a skating performance—but amplified tenfold.

Because this time the person he cared most about was inside, in the danger.

The lights went out. And away they went.

The opening laps were tense. The water on the track kicked up a spray behind every car, visibility nearly nonexistent.

Nico leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on the screens above the garage. “Die Bedingungen sind schrecklich.” (“Conditions are terrible.”)

Sebastian nodded nervously.

Then suddenly—

Two silver cars appeared on the main straight. Close. Too close. They were almost wheel to wheel.

“Wait—”

The cars make contact, Lewis’ car slid sideways. The impact sends him into the wall.

Sebastian gasped. “Oh mein Gott.” (“Oh my God.”)

Both he and Nico were on their feet instantly. “Die McLarens krachten ineinander.” Sebastian whispered. (“The McLarens, crashed into each other.”)

The garage erupted in frantic movement. Mechanics rushed to the pit wall. Engineers shouted into radios. Sebastian’s hand found Nico’s without either of them thinking about it. They gripped tightly.

On the screen Lewis’ car sat damaged against the barrier. They couldn’t see if Lewis made it out of the car.

“Geht es ihm gut?” Sebastian asked quietly. (“Is he okay?”)

Nico didn’t answer.

They waited.

Seconds stretched unbearably long. Then the radio crackled through the speakers.

“Jenson is coming into the pit.”

Sebastian exhales shakily.

“And Lewis?”

Another voice answered.

“Lewis is out of the car and out of the race. He’s walking towards the medical car. On his way back to the garage.”

Nico closes his eyes briefly. Relief flooded through him. “Ihm geht es gut.” (“He’s okay.”) Sebastian nods, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “Verdammt, ich hasse diesen Sport.” (“Fuck, I hate this sport.”)

The rain only intensifies as the race goes on. A few laps in, race control calls a red flag, and stops the race entirely. All the cars slowly return to the pit lane.

When Jenson climbs out of the car he goes straight toward Lewis.

“Lewis, I’m so sorry. I honestly couldn’t see anything.” Jenson said immediately. “Are you alright?”

Lewis waves it off. “I’m fine, nothing broken, not a scratch on me. It’s racing.”

They spoke quietly for a moment before Jenson heads toward the engineers to review the crash data, and the damage to the car.

Lewis stays sitting at the back of the garage beside his father. That was when he noticed someone approaching hesitantly.

Nico.

Lewis looks surprised.

Nico stops in front of him. For once he looked unsure.

“You’re okay?” Nico asked.

Lewis nods. He looks towards his father, as if are you seeing this? Who only nudges him off the chair, toward Nico.

“Yeah.”

Before he could say anything else, Nico stepped forward and wrapped him in a quick hug. Lewis freezes in surprise for a second. Then, relaxes and he hugs him back.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Nico said quietly.

Lewis blinks. “Yeah, I’m alright.” Rubbing Nico’s back, in long soothing strokes.

Nico steps back, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve seen crashes before,” he admitted. “But not in person, especially not when the rain is this intense. And not… when someone I know is in the car.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow. “I’m someone you know?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Lewis laughs softly.

Nico looks at him again, expression more serious. “I was scared,” he admitted.

Lewis shrugs lightly. “I’m fine. Nothing broken.”

Nico nods. “Good.” Then he added, “You’re still annoying though.”

Lewis smirks. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

At the back of the garage, Sebastian is sitting on a low stool biting his nails. He hadn’t even realised he was doing it until he heard footsteps approaching.

He looks up to see Jenson standing there.

Before Jenson could say anything, Sebastian pulls him into a hug. A crushing one. Sebastian wraps his arms around him immediately.

“Ich war so besorgt.” Sebastian admitted into his shoulder. (“I was so worried.”)

Jenson holds him tighter.

“When I saw the cars come together—” Sebastian shook his head. “I couldn’t breathe until they said you were both okay.”

Jenson pulls back slightly to look at him.

“I’m alright, Sunshine”

Sebastian nods.

“Good.”

They stayed like that for a moment, close and quiet amid the chaos of the garage. Then an engineer calls out.

“Jenson, we’re preparing for the restart!”

Jenson sighed.

“Duty calls.”

Sebastian smiles faintly.

“Go win the race.”

Jenson chuckled.

“I’m last.”

“You can still try.”

When the race restarted, Jenson’s situation looked impossible. He was last. He had already made multiple pit stops. Six in total. A collision with Alonso earned him a penalty.

Sebastian and Nico watched every lap from the garage.

Yet slowly—

Miraculously—

Jenson started climbing the order.

One overtake.

Then another.

As the rain finally eased and the track began to dry, the McLaren grew faster, on the slick tyres. That was a good call by the team.

“Er gehört zu den Top Fünf.” Nico whispered in disbelief. (“He’s in the top five.”)

Sebastian gripped the railing. “Er kann es schaffen.” (“He can do it.”)

The laps ticked down. And Jenson kept making his way past the cars in front of him.

Third.

Then second.

Only one car remained ahead.

On the final lap, the leading Red Bull of Webber slid wide onto the grass. Jenson seized the opportunity instantly. The McLaren shot past. The garage exploded.

“Er führt das Rennen an! Er wird es tatsächlich gewinnen!” Sebastian and Nico grabbed each other in a tight hug as the chequered flag fell. (“He’s leading the race! He’s actually gonna win it!”)

“HE WON!” Sebastian shouted.

The entire garage erupted in celebration. Mechanics cheered. Engineers hugged.

Sebastian laughed breathlessly, still stunned. Nearby he noticed an older man celebrating with the team. He recognised him immediately.

John Button. Jenson’s father.

Sebastian approached hesitantly, just as John turned towards him.

“Hello,” he said politely. “I’m Sebastian.”

John smiles warmly. “I know who you are.”

Sebastian relaxes slightly. “Your son is incredible.”

John chuckles proudly, and pulls Sebastian into a hug.

“Yes, he is.”

Jenson climbed out of the car to deafening cheers. He barely had time to remove his helmet before the entire team rushes toward him.

They pulled him into an embrace, and he sees Lewis is there as well, standing next to his father, Anthony and Nico, clapping along with everyone else.

The team makes way for Jenson’s father to come through, and he pulls his son into a crushing hug. “Son, that was just incredible, incredible. Be proud of yourself, for what you have achieved today. It’s nothing short of greatness.”

Jenson’s eyes fill with tears, and hugs his father one more time. He glances to the side, and sees someone from the corner of his eye.

Sebastian.

John lets him go, and gestures to Jenson to go to Sebastian. “He’s been waiting his turn to get in on the celebrations. Jenson laughs and he approaches Sebastian and wraps him in tight hug, lifting him off the ground easily.

“You won,” Sebastian says, laughing breathlessly. “I can’t believe it, I just said that earlier…how do you say…to lift the spirits.”

“I know, Sunshine. You’re my lucky charm it seems.”

They pull apart, but are still standing close enough. Jenson cups Sebastian face and leans down, just as Sebastian leans in, onto his toes, to share the most tender and intense of kisses either of them have experienced.

Right there in front of everyone.

The crowd roars. Jenson doesn’t even pretend to stop and holds him close.

~

The air at Hockenheim felt different. Warmer, somehow. Louder. Familiar.

For Nico, it carried a quiet kind of pride—something rooted deep in childhood memories, in hearing German voices rise above the crowd, in knowing this was home.

Even if today, he stood not on the ice—but in the McLaren garage.

Alone.

Well—not entirely alone. But without Sebastian, who had been pulled away for sponsor obligations elsewhere.

Which meant Nico had no buffer.

No distraction.

No one to deflect attention away from the fact that he was very aware of exactly whose garage he had chosen to stand in.

“You’re early.”

The voice came from behind him.

Nico turned.

Lewis stood there in partial race kit, sleeves tied around his waist, hair slightly damp from the heat.

Nico raised an eyebrow. “I’m German. What’s your excuse?”

Lewis shrugged. “Got tired of sitting in my motorhome.”

A brief pause settled between them. Usually, this was where the banter started. The jabs. The inevitable argument.

But today—

“You nervous?” Nico asked instead.

Lewis looked mildly surprised.

“About the race?”

“Yes.”

Lewis considered it.

“A little.”

Nico nodded.

“Good.”

Lewis smirked.

“Good?”

“Means you care.”

Lewis tilts his head slightly. “That’s new. You not going to insult my driving today?”

Nico shrugged. “Not yet.”

Lewis laughed.

It was… easy. Too easy.

They fell into conversation without effort—about the track, the weather conditions, the way the cars were behaving in practice. It shifted gradually, almost imperceptibly, into something less technical.

Less guarded.

Nico found himself leaning casually against the workbench beside Lewis.

Lewis didn’t move away.

At some point, a mechanic passed by and gave them a quick look—half curious, half amused. Neither of them noticed. Or maybe they did, and chose not to care.

A voice called from the far end of the garage.

“Lewis, five minutes!”

Lewis didn’t respond immediately.

Nico glanced at him. “You should go.”

Lewis nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

But he didn’t move. For a moment, they just stood there. Then Lewis exhaled. “After the race?”

Nico’s lips curved slightly. “If you survive it.”

Lewis grinned. “Always do.”

The roar of the crowd as the lights went out was deafening. From the garage, Nico watched the start with a steady focus he usually reserved for competitions.

Lewis launched cleanly. Lap after lap, he held position, pushing harder, faster. The strategy played out perfectly.

Pit stops. Overtakes.

Nico found himself leaning forward more than once, heart picking up speed in a way he hadn’t expected.

He’s good, Nico thought.

No—

He’s better than that.

When the chequered flag waved and Lewis crossed the line in first place, the garage exploded. Nico didn’t realise he was smiling until it was already there.

The air buzzed with celebration. Lewis climbed out of the car, helmet coming off as he laughed, adrenaline still coursing through him.

Nico made his way through the crowd toward him. Lewis spotted him immediately.

“Enjoy the show?” he called out.

Nico folded his arms, trying—and failing—to suppress his grin. “Didn’t know you were showing off.”

Lewis laughed. “In Germany? Of course.” He stepped closer. “I don’t know any other German I’m trying to impress.”

Nico blinked.

That—

He wasn’t prepared for that. He recovered quickly. “You’re doing a decent job so far.”

“Only decent?”

“I said what I said.”

Lewis shook his head, still smiling.

It was late by the time the celebrations wound down. The paddock lights dimmed, the noise settling into something softer. Lewis leaned against his car in the parking lot when Nico approached.

“Heading back?” Lewis asked.

“For now.”

Lewis hesitated.

Then—

“Would you like to have dinner?”

Nico raised an eyebrow.

Lewis added quickly, “It’s not like a date or anything.”

“Of course not,” Nico said smoothly.

A beat.

Neither of them believed that.

The restaurant was quiet. Dim lighting. Soft music. For once, there were no cameras. No crowds. Just them, and the conversation—

“I don’t how you manage to spin mid-air and land on one foot. Like it looks so effortless. I think I would break a few bones, falling and sliding on the ice.” Lewis says, taking a sip from the glass of water.

“Well, you drive at 300 km per hour, if that is not a death wish I don’t know what is.”

“It’s a controlled 300 kph. But I might give skating a try again.”

“You fell three times.”

“Cause I didn’t listen to my teacher.”

But somewhere between the teasing and the laughter, something shifted. The edges softened. The jabs lost their bite. Lewis found himself watching Nico’s face when he smiled or laughed. Nico noticed the way Lewis leaned in when he was interested in what he was saying.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

The drive back to Nico’s hotel was quiet. Comfortable. Too comfortable. Lewis pulled up outside. Neither of them moved to get out immediately.

“I had fun tonight,” Lewis said.

Nico nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

Another pause.

The kind that lingered. The kind that meant something.

They both slowly get out of the car. Lewis reaching the passenger side to open the door for Nico. He sticks his hand out for Nico to take.

“Chivalry isn’t dead.” Nico says, climbing out of the car.

They stand side by side, against the Lewis’ car, he turns slightly toward him.

“I’m glad you came today.”

Nico looks at him. “I’m glad I did too.”

There it was again. That feeling. Something just beneath the surface. About to break through. Lewis leaned in slightly, standing closer to Nico. Their shoulders and arms brushing. He turned to look at Nico, looking at his face, smiling at him as Nico looked away shyly, embarrassed.

Then he gently placed his hand on the side of Nico’s face, turning it to toward himself, Nico is looking at him directly. “You should smile more often. You’re face lights up every time.”

Nico stills, staring at Lewis in disbelief. Lewis smiles once again, keeps his hand on Nico’s face, fingers gently brushing and moves to stand closer to Nico, as if he’s going to lean in for a kiss.

And then—

“Lewis! Can we get a photo?”

Some fans approached the car, phones already out.

The moment shatters, and they break apart. Looking at each other, and smiling shyly. Lewis sighs lightly but smiles, stepping away from the car to greet them. Nico watches him from his perch on the car as Lewis laughs, signs autographs, poses for pictures.

By the time he returns, the silence had changed.

But not entirely.

Lewis leans against the door.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

Nico looks up.

“I… care about you,” Lewis said, a little more quietly. “Even if we argue all the time.”

Nico’s breath catches slightly.

“And I’d like to come watch you skate,” Lewis added. “Support you. Like you do for me…uh…us. Me and Jenson.”

Nico nods slowly. Smiling softly at Lewis for fumbling his words. “I’d like that.”

Lewis smiles.

“Good.”

Something shifted.

Deep. Quiet.

Unspoken.

Lewis doesn’t comment on it. They don’t comment on what happened between them a few moments ago.

Maybe he didn’t notice.

Or maybe—

He wasn’t ready to.

Back in his hotel room, Nico didn’t even bother taking off his jacket before grabbing his phone. Sebastian answered almost immediately.

“Du warst mit Lewis zum Abendessen verabredet?” Sebastian’s voice comes through the phone. (“You went on a dinner date with Lewis?”)

“Es war kein Date.” (“It was not a date.”)

Sebastian laughs. “Es war definitiv ein Date.” (“It was absolutely a date.”)

Nico paced the room. “Es war… gut.” (“It was… good.”)

“Es war einfach gut?” Sebastian asked, like he knew Nico was lying. Damn his friend for being so perceptive. (“It was just good?”)

Nico ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, gut, es war fantastisch. Wir haben uns ausnahmsweise mal unterhalten, ohne uns gegenseitig zu beleidigen. Falls dich das interessiert.” (“Ok fine, it was amazing. We talked without insulting each other for once. If that’s what you want to know.”)

Sebastian laughs and then goes quiet for a second.

Then—

“Hast du es ihm gesagt?” (“Did you tell him?”)

Nico stopped.

“Nein” (“No”)

“Warum nicht?” (“Why not?”)

Nico exhales. “Ich weiß nicht. Der Moment schien nicht perfekt.” (“I don’t know. The moment didn’t seem perfect.”)

“Was meinst du? Der Moment war perfekt. Du hattest ihn ganz für dich allein.” (“What do you mean? The moment was perfect. You had him all to yourself.”)

“Ich weiß.” (“I know.”)

“Du magst ihn wirklich sehr, nicht wahr?” (“You really like him, don’t you?”)

Nico didn’t answer.

Sebastian’s voice softens. “Er mag dich auch, weißt du.” (“He likes you too, you know.”)

Nico sits down on the edge of the bed. “Wie kannst du dir da so sicher sein? Vielleicht ist er ja zu all seinen Freunden so.” (“How can you be so sure? Maybe he’s like this with all his friends.”)

“Ich glaube nicht. Und du wirst es erst wissen, wenn du es ihm sagst und mit ihm redest. Er könnte dich überraschen.” (“I don’t think so. And you won’t know until you try to tell him, and talk to him. He might surprise you.”)

“Ich werde es ihm sagen,” he said finally. (“I’ll tell him.”)

“Wann?” (“When?”)

Nico thinks for a moment.

“Er kommt in die Schweiz. Zu den Europameisterschaften.” (“He’s coming to Switzerland. For the European Championships.”)

Sebastian hummed approvingly.

“Gut. Dann mach es.” (“Good. Do it then.”)

Back in his own hotel room, Lewis lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. The weekend replayed in his mind.

The conversation in the garage.

The race.

The dinner.

Nico.

He exhaled slowly. Somewhere along the way, things had changed.

Nico wasn’t just—

Annoying.

Competitive.

Infuriating.

He was—

Important.

Someone Lewis wanted around. Someone he wanted to support. Not just as an athlete, but as a friend as well.

To show up for. Like Nico had done in Spain and Canada.

Lewis smiled faintly. “I’ll go to Switzerland,” he murmured to himself.

It felt simple.

Straightforward.

Like the right thing to do.

He didn’t realise—

Just how much more complicated it already was.

~

Lausanne felt colder than it should have.

The ice rink was quiet this early in the morning—just the low hum of refrigeration beneath the floor and the soft echo of blades cutting across the surface. Pale sunlight filtered through the high windows, turning everything silver.

Nico pushes off into a clean glide, arms tight at his sides, breath steady.

One turn.

Edge.

Step.

Another turn—

He stops.

Not because he’d made a mistake. Because his mind wasn’t on the ice. It hadn’t been for days. His phone sat on the bench just beyond the boards. Face down.

Ignored.

Deliberately.

Because every time he looked at it, he thought of one thing.

The European Figure Skating Championships. And the fact that Lewis was coming. Nico exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair as he skates back to the center.

He tries to focus on the routine.

On the edges. On the jump sequence.

But instead—

He’s coming.

Lewis had said it so casually. I’ll go to Switzerland.

Like it was simple. Like it didn’t mean anything.

Except it did. To Nico, it meant—

Dinner.

Another evening like Hockenheim.

Maybe more.

Maybe—

He cut the thought off sharply. “Fokus,” he muttered to himself. (“Focus.”) He pushes off again. This time harder.

Faster.

The music starts and he launches into the first jump. A triple axel, a clean landing. But even as he moved through the routine, something lighter threaded through his chest.

Anticipation.

He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Not before a competition. Not for someone else.

By mid-afternoon, the rink had filled with other skaters and coaches. Voices echoed. Music overlapped, the world returned.

Nico finally stepped off the ice, grabbing his water bottle and towel.

His phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

Then again.

He frowned slightly, picking it up. A flood of notifications lit the screen. Messages. Mentions. Tags. His stomach tightened, and he opens one.

And then—

Everything goes very still.

A photo.

Grainy, taken at night outside a restaurant. It could’ve been anyone. But it was unmistakable.

Lewis.

Laughing, standing close to a woman Nico didn’t recognise.

The next photo—had their hands linked walking side by side. Her leaning into him.

A headline beneath it:

Lewis Hamilton spotted on a romantic night out with mystery woman.

Nico stared at the screen. The noise of the rink faded into something distant.

Muted.

Unreal.

“Das ist…” he whispers. (“That’s….”)

He didn’t finish the sentence. Because he didn’t know how.

His phone rings.

Sebastian.

Nico hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering.

“Hallo.”

“Hey.” Sebastian’s voice was softer than usual.

Nico lets out a quiet breath.

“Du hast es gesehen?” (“You saw it?”)

“Ja.”

A pause.

“Es tut mir Leid,” Sebastian said gently. (“I’m sorry.”)

Nico laughs. It comes out wrong. Too sharp.

“Warum entschuldigst du dich?” (“Why are you apologising?”)

“Ich einfach—” Sebastian hesitates. “Ich weiß, dass du dich darauf gefreut hast, ihn zu sehen.” (“I just… I know you were looking forward to seeing him.”)

Nico sits down slowly on the bench. Around him, skaters move past, unaware.

“Ich war,” he admitted. (“I was.”)

Silence stretches between them. Then Sebastian speaks again. “Möchtest du darüber reden?” (“Do you want to talk about it?”)

Nico stares at the photo still open on his screen.

Lewis’ hand in someone else’s.

Not his.

What had he expected?

That Lewis would just—

Wait?

For something Nico hadn’t even said out loud?

“Das ist es nicht—” Nico stopped himself. “Das geht mich nichts an.” (“That’s not. It’s none of my business.”)

Sebastian doesn’t respond immediately. “Vielleicht auch nicht,” he said carefully. “Aber es tut trotzdem weh.” (“Maybe not. But it still hurts.”)

Nico closed his eyes briefly. “Ja.” The word came out quieter than he intended.

Sebastian exhaled softly on the other end. “Wir reden darüber, wenn ich da bin, okay?,” he said (“We’ll talk when I get there, okay?”)

Nico nods, even though Sebastian can’t see him.

“Okay.”

Another pause.

“Es tut mir wirklich leid.,” Sebastian repeats. (“I’m really sorry.”)

Nico forces a small smile. “Alles gut.” (“It’s fine.”)

It wasn’t.

They both knew it.

After the call ended, Nico sat there for a long time. The noise faded in and out around him. His phone screen dimmed, then went dark. He didn’t turn it back on. Didn’t check for more photos. Didn’t look for context.

Because it didn’t matter. What mattered was simple, clear and obvious. Whatever this was between him and Lewis wasn’t meant to be.

He had built something in his head A, possibility, a moment. And it had slipped through his fingers before it even existed.

Nico exhaled slowly, then stood. The cold air hits him as he stepped back onto the ice.

This time—

There was no hesitation. No distraction. No anticipation.

Only focus.

He pushed off hard.

Edges sharper.

Turns tighter.

Jumps higher.

He lands with precision, breath steady, movements exact.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Until his muscles burned. Until his lungs ached. Until there was nothing left in his mind except the routine.

The competition.

The goal.

Win.

If he couldn’t have anything else—he would have that.

~

The arena hummed with anticipation.

Spotlights cut through the dimmed air, reflecting off the ice like fractured glass. The stands were packed—voices layered over one another, a low roar that rose and fell with every name announced.

From his seat near the front, Lewis leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the rink.

“This is mad,” he murmured.

Beside him, Jenson smiled faintly.

“Didn’t think it’d be like this.”

The announcer’s voice echoed through the arena.

“Representing Germany…”

Lewis’ focus sharpens instantly.

“…Nico Rosberg.”

The crowd erupts.

Lewis feels it—something electric, running through the noise, through the air, straight into his chest.

“Here we go,” Jenson said softly.

Backstage, Nico stood at the edge of the curtain. His breath was steady. Too steady.

The world felt distant, muted. He focused. Not on the stands. Not on the faces. Not on—

Him.

Nico closed his eyes briefly, then stepped onto the ice.

The music begins.

Soft.

Controlled.

And Nico starts moving. From the very first glide, there was something different. Sharper, fiercer. Every edge carved with intention. Every turn precise.

Like he had something to prove.

Lewis didn’t move from his seat. Didn’t blink, lest he miss Nico’s movements on the ice. He watched as Nico crossed the rink in long, powerful strokes, his body cutting through the air with effortless grace.

The silver accents of his costume caught the light with every movement—flashing, shimmering. His hair followed the motion, blonde strands catching the glow as he spun.

Lewis exhaled slowly. “…wow.”

Jenson glanced at him. Lewis didn’t notice.

On the ice, Nico launches into the first jump, a triple axel, clean launch. He spins high mid-air, and perfect landing. The music swells, he moves faster now, transitions seamless, each step flowing into the next.

Lewis feels something tighten in his chest. It wasn’t just his skill. It was—

Intensity.

Emotion.

Something just beneath the surface, barely contained. Like Nico was skating through something. Lewis leaned forward further.

“He looks—”

He stops.

Jenson waits

Lewis shakes his head slightly. “I don’t even know.”

On the ice, Nico is still gliding on the ice. Faster, controlled, and more importantly—he looked beautiful.  Lewis’ mind supplied the image before he could stop it.

He looked like a silver wolf. Something majestic and untouchable. Something wild, but moving with elegance.

The final sequence builds towards the crescendo. A quadruple axel, a perfect landing. Everything perfectly timed. The crowd around them gasped.

And then—it comes to an end.

Nico comes to a stop at center ice, chest rising, arms still.

The music cuts.

Silence.

For half a second—

Then the arena explodes. Lewis was on his feet instantly, clapping and cheering. Louder than anyone around him. “That was insane!” he shouted, turning briefly to Jenson.

Jenson laughs.

“Told you.”

Lewis doesn’t sit back down. He watches as Nico bows, he’s smiling, but his expression is composed—but there was something in his eyes.

Something heavy.

Minutes later, Nico stands on the podium. Gold medal and trophy in hand. The German flag rising behind him. Lewis feels a strange kind of pride settle in his chest. He smiles without realising it.

The corridors behind the arena were crowded. Voices overlapped—congratulations, laughter, footsteps echoing against the walls. Lewis holds the bouquet of purple orchids a little tighter as he makes his way through. He spots Nico easily.

Still in his costume. Trophy in hand, surrounded by people. Lewis slows as he approaches. For a moment, he just watches him.

Then—

Nico looks up.

Their eyes meet.

Nico stills. Surprise flickered across his face. Lewis steps closer.

“Hey.”

Nico blinks

“Hi, Lewis.”

Lewis holds out the flowers. “These are for you.” Nico hesitates for half a second before taking them. “These are lovely, thank you.”

“You were amazing,” Lewis says, his voice softer now. “Honestly. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Nico looked at him carefully. “Thank you, I’m glad you came.”

Lewis smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

A pause.

Nico glances behind Lewis, trying to see over his shoulder. Almost as if looking or someone.

Lewis frowned slightly.

“What?”

Nico shifts his weight. “You’re here alone?” Lewis blinks. “Yeah. Well, not alone, alone—Jenson’s around somewhere.”

Nico’s grip tightens slightly on the bouquet. “You’re girlfriend isn’t here?”

Lewis freezes. “My what?”

Nico’s expression hardens, just slightly. “The woman in the pictures. Your girlfriend. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

Lewis stares at him.

“What pictures? Nico, what are you talking about?”

Nico lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”

“I don’t—”

“Come one, I saw the photos, Lewis.”

Lewis gives him another look of disbelief and confusion. Before he could ask again, what on earth Nico is getting at, Nico jumps in again.

“She looked very comfortable holding your hand.”

Realisation final strikes Lewis. That night at the restaurant, he had gone on a date with a woman, after some of his friends insisted. They set him up. It was just one date, nothing happened.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Nico scoffed.

“Of course she’s not.”

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe that?”

Lewis frowns. “What is this, Nico? Like seriously what is going on? Are you mad I didn’t tell you about this?”

Nico’s voice tightened. “You said you cared about me, that I’m your friend.”

“I do care, and you are my friend.”

“Then what was that? Friends tell each other things.”

Lewis stares at him, confusion turning into frustration. “It was just one dinner, not some earth shattering news.”

“It’s fine, I guess. You don’t have to tell me everything. It’s not my business.”

“It’s clearly not fine.”

Nico’s eyes flashed. “I misread something. That’s all.” That night in Germany flashes in his mind. Lewis leaning is close, his hand on his face. The way he looked at him, the hope simmering inside Nico. Maybe Lewis does feel the same, but he was wrong. Lewis, seeming to have moved on from that moment.

Meeting someone else, holding her hand. Looking at her fondly. All the things Nico wanted to do with Lewis. Hoping something changed for him in Germany after that moment. But it didn’t and it just shattered any hope Nico had.

Lewis steps closer. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing, I misunderstood or misread something,” Nico insisted. “And that’s on me.”

A beat.

Something in Lewis’ chest twisted.

“Nico—”

But Nico shakes his head.

“Thank you for the flowers, Lewis. And good luck for the rest of the season. I hope you win the drivers’ championship.” he says flatly.

Lewis blinks. “What? Nico wait….”

Nico’s grip tightens around the flowers, as he steps back, walking away from Lewis.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

Nico looks at him then. Really looks at him. And something in his expression breaks. “You’re never going to feel the same way.”

Lewis freezes.

“What—?”

Nico laughs softly, but there was no humour in it. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“Nico, I don’t—”

“Goodnight, Lewis. And good luck.”

And then he walks away.

Across the corridor, Sebastian had seen enough. He exhaled slowly. Beside him, Jenson shifts slightly.

“That didn’t look good.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “No, it didn’t,” Jenson glanced at him. “You need to go after him.”

Sebastian nods. “I do.”

He hesitates.

“I’m sorry,” he added quietly. “We were supposed to spend time tonight.”

Jenson smiles softly. “It’s fine. Go. Nico needs his friend.”

Sebastian reaches for his hand briefly. “Thank you.” Jenson squeezes it. “Take care of him.”

“I will.”

The hotel room was too quiet. Nico stood near the window, still in half his costume, the medal resting heavily against his chest.

Sebastian enters slowly behind him.

“Nico.”

No response.

Sebastian steps closer. “Möchtest du darüber reden?” (“You want to talk about it?”)

Nico lets out a breath. “Ich habe es ruiniert.” (“I ruined it.”)

Sebastian frowns.

“Du hast es nicht getan.” (“You didn’t.”)

“Das habe ich getan.” (“I did.”)

Nico turned, eyes bright with something dangerously close to tears. “Ich wusste es,” he said. “Ich wusste, ich hätte es nicht tun sollen.—” (“I knew it, I knew I shouldn’t have.”)

“Hey—”

“Ich mag ihn,” Nico said, voice breaking. “Ich mag ihn wirklich sehr.” (“I like him, I really like him.”)

Sebastian went still.

“Und ich denke…” Nico swallowed. “Ich glaube, ich begann, mich in ihn zu verlieben.” (“And I think, I think I was starting to fall in love with him.”)

The words hung in the air.

Heavy.

Real.

Sebastian stepped closer.

“Nico—”

“Und er empfindet nicht dasselbe,” Nico continued. “Natürlich nicht.” (“And he doesn’t feel the same way, of course he doesn’t.”)

“Er hat es weder gesagt noch zugegeben.” (“He didn’t say, or admit it.”)

“Das war nicht nötig.” (“He didn’t have to.”)

Nico laughs weakly. “Und jetzt habe ich alles zerstört, was wir hatten.” (“And now I’ve ruined whatever we had.”)

Sebastian reaches out, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Du hast nichts kaputt gemacht.” (“You didn’t ruin anything.”)

“Ich habe ihn weggestoßen.” (“I pushed him away.”)

“Du warst verletzt.” (“You were hurt.”)

“Ich war eifersüchtig,” Nico corrected. (“I was jealous.”)

Sebastian’s expression softened. “Das ist menschlich.” (“That’s human.”)

Nico shakes his head.

“Ich hätte einfach… früher etwas sagen sollen. In Deutschland. Ich hatte die Gelegenheit.” (“I should’ve just… said something earlier. In Germany. I had the chance.”)

Sebastian doesn’t argue. Because he was right.

“Ich habe es vermasselt,” Nico whispered. (“I messed it up.”)

Sebastian pulls him into a hug. This time, Nico didn’t resist. He leans into it, shoulders finally sagging.

“Ich weiß nicht, wie ich es reparieren soll,” Nico admitted. (“I don’t know how to fix it.”)

Sebastian holds him tighter. “Dann finden wir gemeinsam eine Lösung.” (“Then we'll figure it out, together.”)

Outside, the city lights flickered quietly against the night. And somewhere else in a hotel Lewis sat alone, staring at nothing.

Confused.

Unsettled.

And realising—

Something had just gone very, very wrong.

~

Monaco was all sunlight and stillness.

From the balcony of his apartment, the Mediterranean stretched endlessly—blue and glassy, dotted with slow-moving yachts that seemed to exist in a world untouched by urgency. It should have been peaceful.

It wasn’t.

Inside the apartment, the quiet felt heavier. It settled into the corners, lingered in the space between breaths, pressed against the walls like something waiting to be acknowledged.

Nico stood by the kitchen counter, his phone in his hand, thumb hovering just above the screen.

It lit up again.

Lewis.

The name felt heavier than it should have. Nico stared at it, jaw tightening slightly. The ringing filled the room.

He didn’t answer. He let it ring until it stopped. Silence followed—thick and immediate. Then the screen lit up again.

A message.

Lewis: Nico, can we please talk?

Another one followed almost instantly.

Lewis: I don’t understand what happened. Please pick up, I need to hear your voice.

Nico let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

Lewis: I need to know you’re alright, please. Don’t shut me out, talk to me.

His chest tightened, something uncomfortable settling just beneath his ribs. “I can’t Lewis,” he mutters quietly.

His thumb hovers over the messages again. For a moment—just a moment—he almost replied. Then he locks his phone and sets it face down against the counter.

“No,” he said, firmer this time.

Because if he answered—

If he opened that door even a little—

He knew himself well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to close it again.

The ice rink that evening was colder than usual. Or maybe it just felt that way. The overhead lights cast a pale glow across the surface, turning it into a mirror that reflected every movement back at him—every misstep, every hesitation.

Nico pushed off hard.

The sound of his blades cutting into the ice echoed sharply through the otherwise quiet space. Another turn—faster this time. He moved through the opening of his routine with precision, each motion deliberate, controlled.

But something was off.

He could feel it.

His coach watched from the sidelines, arms folded.

“You’re rushing.”

Nico didn’t stop.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” his coach replied calmly. “You’re ahead of the music.”

Nico pushed harder, launching into a jump with more force than necessary. He landed it, barely, wobbling  before he corrected himself.

“That was sloppy, let’s do it again,” he said quickly.

“You need to slow down.”

“I said I’m fine.”

The sharpness in his tone lingered in the cold air. His coach didn’t argue. Just watched. And Nico skated again, and again.

Harder.

Faster.

Like if he moved quickly enough, he wouldn’t have to think.

“Weglaufen sieht normalerweise ungefähr so ​​aus.” (“Running away usually looks a lot like this.”)

The voice comes from the doorway of his kitchen. Sebastian stands there, leaning casually against the frame, but his expression was anything but casual.

Nico exhales, walking past him into the living room with a bottle of water.

“Ich laufe nicht weg.” (“I’m not running away.”)

Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“Du ignorierst ihn.” (“You’re ignoring him.”)

“Ich ignoriere ihn nicht.” (“I’m not ignoring him.”)

Sebastian tilted his head.

“Dein Handy sagt etwas anderes.” (“Your phone says otherwise.”)

Nico settles on the couch, picking up the television remote. “Ich habe einfach nichts zu sagen.” (“I just don’t have anything to say.”)

Sebastian pushes himself off the doorframe, walking closer, and sitting down next to him. “Das stimmt nicht.” (“That’s not true.”)

Nico doesn’t respond.

“Du hast Angst.” (“You’re scared.”)

Nico laughs softly.

“Das ist es nicht.” (“That’s not it.”)

“Es ist.” (“It is.”)

Nico meets his gaze then. “Ich schütze mich selbst.” (“I’m protecting myself.”)

Sebastian’s expression softens slightly.

“Von was?” (“From what?”)

Nico hesitated.

The answer sat there, obvious and uncomfortable. “Um nicht erneut verletzt zu werden.” (“From getting hurt again.”)

Sebastian nodded slowly. “Du weißt nicht, ob er dich verletzen wird.” (“You don’t know that he’ll hurt you.”)

“So weiß ich, dass er es nicht tun wird.” (“This way, I know that he won’t.”)

Silence stretched between them. Sebastian moves closer to Nico on the couch, turning to look at him. “Du magst ihn.” (“You like him.”)

Nico huffs out a quiet laugh. “Das ist eine Untertreibung.” (“That’s an understatement.”)

“Dann sprich mit ihm.” (“Then talk to him.”)

Nico shakes his head.

“Nein.” (“No”)

“Warum nicht?” (“Why not?”)

“Weil ich das gesehen habe, was ich sehen musste.” (“Because I saw what I needed to see.”)

Sebastian frowns.

“Du hast Fotos gesehen.” (“You saw photos.”)

“Ich sah, wie er die Hand einer anderen Person hielt.” (“I saw him holding someone else’s hand.”)

“Und du hast ihn nie richtig danach gefragt.” (“And you never asked him about it properly.”)

“Das habe ich getan.” (“I did.”)

“Sie haben ihn beschuldigt,” Sebastian corrected gently. (“You accused him,”)

That landed.

Nico looked away. His grip tightened slightly on the bottle in his hands.

Sebastian’s voice softened. “Führen Sie ein Gespräch,” he said. “Nur einer. Keine Annahmen. Keine Abwehrhaltung.” (“Have one conversation. Just one. No assumptions. No defensiveness.”)

Nico shook his head again, slower this time.

“Ich kann nicht.” (“I can’t.”)

“Warum?” (“Why?”)

Nico looked back at him. Because the truth was simple. Because it terrified him.

“Denn wenn ich mich irre…” he said quietly, “Ich verliere ihn völlig.” (“Because if I’m wrong, I lose him completely.”)

Sebastian doesn’t answer right away.

“Und was, wenn du Recht hast?” he asked eventually. (“And what if you’re right?”)

Nico doesn’t respond for a while. He’s looking down at his hands. “Ich will es nicht riskieren. So können wir Freunde bleiben, trotz allem, was passiert ist.” (“I don’t want to risk it. Like this, we can be friends, even after all that’s happened.”)

“Wenn ich es ihm sage und er nicht dasselbe empfindet, werden wir vielleicht nie wieder Freunde sein. (“If I tell him, and he doesn’t feel the same, we may never go back to being friends.)

Lewis wird mich anders sehen, weil ich alles auf eine Karte gesetzt habe. (“Lewis will see me differently, cause I played all the cards in my hand.”)

So können wir Freunde bleiben, ich werde darüber hinwegkommen und wir können wieder normal miteinander umgehen.” (“This way, we can be friends, I’ll get over it, and we go back to being normal again.”)

Sebastian looks at him carefully, taking in the words, trying to understand where Nico stands. He still doesn’t agree, but he’ll stand by Nico, whatever happens.

“Ich brauche einfach etwas Zeit zum Nachdenken, zum Reflektieren.” Nico says, looking at Sebastian, squeezing his shoulder. “Danke, dass du für mich da bist.” (“I just need some time, to think, to reflect. Thank you for being here for me.”)

Sebastian pulls him into a hug. “Immer, ich bin immer da.” (“Always, I’m always here.”)

~

The heat hit differently at the Singapore Grand Prix. Even at night, the air felt thick—heavy with humidity, clinging to skin and making every breath feel just slightly harder than it should.

Inside the cockpit, Lewis adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. The lights above the track reflected off his visor.

“Focus, Lewis,” his engineer’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Yeah,” Lewis replied automatically.

But his mind wasn’t here. It hadn’t been for weeks. The unanswered calls and messages. The silence.

Nico.

Why won’t he talk to me?

The lights went out.

The cars surged forward.

Lewis reacted on instinct—clean launch, he held onto his fifth position, defending it with all his might. It looked like it was going well.

But something felt… off.

At lap 55, he went a fraction too late on the brakes into Turn 7. A slight misjudgment on the exit. Nothing catastrophic, just enough to take notice.

“Lewis, is everything okay?” the radio came again.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Sorry about that. I’m alright.” Lewis said.

It wasn’t convincing.

He knew it.

His engineer and his team knew it.

Lap after lap, the distraction lingered—subtle but persistent. A thought he couldn’t shake. A conversation he couldn’t finish.

Weeks passed.

Races blurred into one another. Japan, South Korea, India. He didn’t win any those races, but a got a podium in South Korea and some decent points to still be fighting for the championship.

He celebrated with Jenson on his win at Suzuka, a well deserved one. He’s been great all season, a solid teammate and a worthy challenger for Lewis to keep pushing.

“Jenson, mate congrats,” Lewis approached him in the garage after the celebration with the team.

“Thank you,” Jenson pulled him into a one armed hug. “Too bad Sebastian was not here. But I’m meeting him in India, said he was gonna be there for the last two races as well.”

At that, Lewis perked up immediately. “Did Sebastian mention anything about Nico? Has he spoken to him?”

“No, said he talked to him briefly, but he’s been ignoring Seb as well I’m afraid. I’ll ask him tonight though.” Jenson looked at Lewis with a somber expression, and squeezed his shoulder once.

Jenson excuses himself when his phone rings, and shows the caller ID, Sebastian. “Speak of the devil. I’d better take this.”

“Yeah, of course, tell him I said hello.” Lewis smiles at Jenson. “And Jenson, I’m really happy for you and Seb. He’s great, I hope it works out.”

“Thank you, Lewis. I’ll tell him you said hello,” with that Jenson walks away, in the direction of the paddock, looking for a quiet spot to speak to Sebastian.

The rest of races until Abu Dhabi and Brazil blurred into one. Hotel rooms, airports, circuits—each one bleeding into the next.

And through all of it—

Silence.

Lewis sat on the edge of his bed in yet another hotel room, at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. He’d just finished with a shower after a good qualifying session, pole position, and was sitting on his bed, phone in hand.

The message thread was one-sided.

All his.

No replies.

He stared at the screen, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

A knock at the door, pulled him out of his trance.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Jenson stepped inside, taking one look at him and raising an eyebrow. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Lewis said dryly.

Jenson closed the door behind him. “When was the last time you slept? It didn’t ruin quali for you though.”

Lewis shrugged. “Define sleep.”

Jenson leaned against the wall, studying him. “I know this is about Nico.”

Lewis doesn’t deny it. “I don’t get it,” he said. “One minute we’re fine, the next—nothing.”

Jenson was quiet for a moment.

Then—

“You miss him.”

Lewis scoffed. “He’s ignoring me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

Lewis ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Jenson watched him carefully. “You’re in love with him.”

Lewis froze.

“What?”

Jenson didn’t look away.

“You heard me.”

“That’s— no.”

“Yes.”

Lewis shook his head. “No, I— we just—”

“Argue?”

“…yeah.”

“Flirt.”

Lewis blinked.

“What?”

Jenson’s mouth twitched. “You’ve been flirting with him since day one.”

Lewis stared at him. “That’s not—”

“It is.”

The realisation came slowly. Uncomfortably. Jenson pushed off the wall. “And for what it’s worth,” he added, Lewis looked at him, “He likes you too.”

Lewis’s breath caught.

“…what?”

Jenson nodded. “I spoke to Sebastian, he told me. Nico’s been the same as well.”

The entire evening in Switzerland replayed in Lewis’ mind. The conversation they had backstage. Nico giving him that unreadable look. How hurt he was to find out Lewis was seeing someone.

You’re never going to feel the same way, are you?

His chest tightened.

“…oh.”

Jenson gave a small nod.

“Yeah.”

Lewis leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I thought he was just—mad I didn’t tell him about that date. I didn’t think he was—jealous.”

“He was,” Jenson said gently. “Because he cares about you.”

Lewis exhaled slowly. “I messed that up.”

Jenson shrugged. “Then fix it. Seb told me he’s coming for the final Grand Prix in Brazil. Talk to him.”

With new hope in his heart, after the revelation, Lewis decides to confront his feelings for Nico and tell him.

The next day he drove like he was possessed, and took the chequered flag, with Jenson coming in third. He was comfortably leading in the driver’s standings. He just needed to finish on the podium at Brazil, and then he will make history once again.

Making him a two-time word champion.

~

The atmosphere at the Brazilian Grand Prix was electric. Crowds filled the stands, noise rising and falling in waves as the race unfolded under a shifting sky. From the edge of the garage, Nico stood with his arms folded, expression carefully neutral. He hadn’t seen Lewis all day. But, that was fine. He wasn’t here for him.

“I’m just here for Sebastian,” he muttered to himself.

Even as his eyes drifted—again and again—to Lewis’ side of the garage. Maybe catch a glimpse. His chest tightened when he inevitably spotted Lewis.

The race unfolded in bursts of tension. They were in for an Interlagos classic. Brazil was always known for its chaos. Overtakes. Strategy calls. Safety cars.

Moments that held the entire field on edge.

Lewis only needed to finish on the podium. He was well on his way to finish second, behind Webber in the Red Bull. A double McLaren podium to end the great season he had. Winning the driver’s championship as well as the constructors championship.

And then—

The final lap.

Lewis crossed the finish line, taking the chequered flag in P2. With Jenson right behind him.

World Champion.

The garage exploded into celebration. Cheers. Laughter. Movement everywhere. Sebastian turned to Nico, grabbing him in a tight hug.

“He did it!”

Nico nodded, forcing a smile.

“Yeah.”

Sebastian went out onto Parc Fermé and found Jenson. He pulled him into a tight hug. Jenson grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up from the ground.

“Hey Sunshine, thank you for being here.”

“Always. Congrats on the constructors, I know it's not a WDC, but I’m proud of you.” Sebastian smiled into the hug.

“There’s always next year, and with you by my side, I think we can take it.” Jenson laughed and put Sebastian down. Leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips. 

After the podium celebration, the celebration with the team ongoing, Jenson joins them in the garage for a quiet moment, equally elated. He found Sebastian and Nico easily, talking to the McLaren engineers and mechanics.

Sebastian gets up to greet Jenson, and pulls him into a another hug. Nico watches the exchange, happy for his friend, for finding someone, and steps back. To give them privacy.

“I’m just going to— get some air.”

Sebastian frowns slightly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Then, “Jenson congrats on a great season.” He turns to Jenson, pulling him in a one armed hug.

Sebastian wants to tell him to stay, not finding his reply convincing. But lets him go.

~

Outside the garage, the air was cooler.

Quieter.

For a moment, Nico just stood there, breathing. Then, he starts walking towards the exit, towards the parking. His job here is done, he was there for Sebastian, and now all he wants to do is take a hot shower and pass out.

But, luck is not on his side. He gets stopped by a familiar voice. He keeps walking, knowing exactly who it is. Maybe Lewis would stop and turn back, but the voice keeps getting louder and louder.

“Nico, hey! Wait!” Lewis reaches him, and pulls him to a stop with a hand on his wrist.

Nico closes his eyes briefly. Of course, Lewis would catch up to him. He should’ve walked faster.

He stops and he turns.

Lewis puts his hand back down and stands a few steps away, still in his race suit, hair damp, expression unreadable.

Nico schools his expression. “Hey Lewis, congratulations on wining the championship. I knew you could do it.”

“Why are you ignoring me?” Lewis asks instead.

Straight to the point then.

Nico looks away. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does. It matters to me.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Lewis steps closer. “Tell me why is doesn’t matter?” Nico lets out a quiet laugh. “You really don’t know?”

“I didn’t then,” Lewis said. “But I do now.” Nico frowns slightly. “What does that mean?”

Lewis holds his gaze. “Just say it, please.”

The silence stretches, almost like time standing is still.

Then—

“I liked you,” Nico said, his voice was steady. But his chest wasn’t. “More than I should have.”

“Liked?” Lewis inquires.

“I thought there was something there,” Nico continued. “After Germany. After everything.”

Lewis doesn’t interrupt, but gives him a look, to go on. Nico shakes his head. “But, I was wrong, I guess.”

“That’s not true—” Lewis starts to say, but gets interrupted.

“I saw you with someone else,” Nico said sharply. “Holding hands. Laughing.”

“She was just someone my friends set me up with. It meant nothing.”

“That’s not what it looked like.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“I tried,” Nico shot back. “You didn’t give me anything to believe otherwise.”

Lewis steps closer.

“I was trying to understand what you meant in Switzerland. Why you got so defensive about one date. That meant absolutely nothing, Nico.”

Nico laughs softly.

“Too late for that.”

A pause.

“You don’t feel the same,” Nico added quietly.

Silence.

Lewis was taking his time to form the words, to say the right thing. Thinking how can he fix this, he can’t afford to lose Nico again.

Nico takes his silence as another rejection, and nods to himself. Walking backwards, away from Lewis.

“Yeah, I thought so. Goodnight, Lewis.”

He turns on his feet, taking a step forward—

And suddenly stops.

Lewis’ hand caught his wrist once more. But this time, it was a firm, unyielding hold.

“Nico.”

He turns back—

Before Nico can protest, Lewis pulls him in. Close. Then closer. One arm around his waist. The other steady at his side.

And then—

Lewis kisses him, gently on the lips.

Not hesitant.

Not unsure.

Certain.

Nico freezes for half a second. Then everything else falls away.

The noise.

The cameras.

The world.

He starts kissing him back. It’s the most gentle and tender kiss Nico has ever experienced. He doesn’t want to let go, never wanted to part. Lewis held him like he is something precious, something beautiful he doesn’t want to let go.

They eventually break for air. Both of them breathing unevenly—

Lewis doesn’t let go.

“I do,” he said quietly.

Nico blinks.

“What?”

“I feel the same way.”

Nico searches his face.

“You—”

“I didn’t understand it before,” Lewis admitted. “But I do now.”

A pause.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he added.

Nico’s breath catches.

“Every race,” Lewis continued. “Every weekend. Something felt off. Not seeing your messages, or hearing your annoying voice criticise my racing made me feel off kilter.

Nico lets out a shaky smile, tears forming in his eyes.

“You were driving badly.”

“See, that’s what I’m talkin—hey”

They both smile, just briefly. Then Lewis’ expression softens again. “All the arguing—”

“Wasn’t really arguing,” Nico said.

Lewis nodded. I wasn’t even angry most of time. At first it annoyed me, but then it was—

“It was us trying to figure each other out.” Nico says, stepping closer. “And?” Lewis exhales. “And I think I was starting to fall in love with you somewhere along the way.”

Nico’s eyes soften. He whispers back to Lewis, “Say that again.”

Lewis smiles. “I love you.”

Nico cups Lewis’ face and pulls him in for kiss. This time it’s slower. Softer. Lewis pulls him in even closer, hands on either side of Nico’s waist, hands then coming up to touch Nico’s face. Lewis threads his fingers in Nico’s long hair, it’s just as soft as he imagined.

Nico puts his arms around Lewis’ neck and shoulders, deepening the kiss. His tongue brushes his lips, and Lewis opens to let him in. Lewis changes the angle of the kiss, and gets a moan out of Nico. He melts against Lewis, holding on.

When they reluctantly pull apart, to eventually breathe, Lewis rests his forehead against his. His fingers still gently touching Nico’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “For not understanding. For being an idiot.”

“I forgive you, and yes, you were an idiot,” Nico agrees.

Lewis huffs a quiet laugh.

“But you’re my idiot.”

Lewis grins. “I’ll take that.”

He pulls Nico in for a hug, arms around his waist. Nico, automatically puts his arms around Lewis’ neck, and buries his face in the crook of his neck and shoulders. He breathes him in, Lewis still smelling of his cologne, the champagne from the podium, and something distinctly Lewis.

“I’m glad you were here,” Lewis says, against Nico’s head.

“Me too.”

They pull back just enough to look at each other.

Then kiss again.

And this time—

There was nothing left unsaid. Around them, the celebrations continued—but for the first time, neither of them felt like they were missing something.

They had finally said it.

Everything they hadn’t before.