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The second Nico was out of shot of his post-race interview, he quickened his pace to break away from the media pen.
Gabi. Gabi.
He was the only thing he wanted to see. Needed to see.
Weaving through people, he kept his expression neutral as he made straight for the Audi motorhome, smiling apologetically to a random reporter he made contact with in his rush. It was in sight before long.
When Mattia appeared to be right outside of the motorhome, Nico braced himself in apprehension of a conversation.
The team principal smiled pleasantly and patted his back. “Good result, Nico. Well done. And the avoiding Gabi on-track… very impressive.”
“Thank you. See you later at the debrief.” He nodded at him, pulling his lips up, nerves jittery with impatience as he tried to excuse himself.
Nico practically burst through the front door of the place, snaking his way through the corridors while praying that nobody would be around to stop him.
Drivers’ room… left. Upstairs that way. Second door to the right.
He stopped for a moment to compose himself. As he raised his fist, his hands started to shake slightly as he brought them to a knock onto Gabi’s door.
“Hello?” The familiar voice called out from inside. “Come in.”
Exhaling, Nico pushed it open, trying not to be so desperate. But as he saw Gabi there, head tilted back to face him with wide eyes as he sipped at his straw, all of his resolve broke.
Gabi’s eyes softened upon seeing him, placing his bottle onto his desk. Nico took a long step forward, opened his arms and hugged him tight.
He felt his teammate’s hands pause before settling onto his back. “Nico—”
“Don’t do that again,” Nico muttered into his ear, pulling a hand through Gabi’s dark curls. He dipped his nose against his neck and drew him in. Making a surprised noise, the Brazilian softened slightly at the touch, putting more pressure on him.
They stayed like that for a moment that felt simultaneously too long and not enough, Gabi staying still against him and Nico hands playing with his hair.
And that was alright. That was all Nico needed: to hold him, to make sure that Gabi was right there. Nico treated the sensation of the individual curls against his fingertips delicately, desperately and lovingly.
“Straight to the point, old man,” Gabi commented affectionately, drawing away slowly with his hands lingering on Nico’s shoulders. “Not even a ‘hello’.”
Nico kept one of his own on Gabriel’s waist. “Forget the greetings. I could’ve killed you today, Gabi. You scared me.”
Not breaking eye contact, Gabi gave him a wolfish smile. “Come on, you know that’s not true. The cars we have now are so safe.”
Nico frowned. “Two hundred kilometers per hour. Maybe up to two-twenty. I couldn’t see anything through the smoke, where you were sideways and exposed. The track was wet and if I guessed your position a little wrong…” he paused, swallowing, trying not to choke on his words. “What if you got hurt? Even worse, what if—”
“It didn’t happen,” Gabriel cut in, lip twitching in amusement. “What did happen was a Nico Hulkenberg seasonal best, tied best Audi result and a crazy impressive onboard.” He’d taken his hands off the German’s shoulders, emphasizing each point by counting on his fingers.
“Well, if—”
“You’re so nice when you’re worried about me, Nico.” Gabi tilted his own head, slipping off Nico’s cap and placing it down before tucking away the loose strands of his hair. “But, today’s for you and for the team. As for the near miss… it was a miss and we’ll learn from it. The team will tell you ‘well done’ and the media will spread the clip all over their socials. Same as always.”
Nico couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You’re starting to sound German. Practical and very PR-trained.”
Shrugging, Gabi grinned. “We spend a lot of time together.”
Nico rolled his eyes good-naturedly and unzipped his own race suit, letting it drop to hang off his hips like how Gabi was doing.
“You had a good race, Nico,” Gabriel added. “I mean it. You deserve the points. Everything.”
The older driver brought himself to sit down at the loveseat tucked into one side of Gabi’s room, looking up to speak. “I’m sorry about what happened to yours.”
He shot Nico a glance as he joined him on the small sofa. “Mate, just celebrate. My car issues are nothing compared to… like, what happened to you at Barcelona.”
“Hmm. I guess.” He looped an arm around Gabriel. His skin was warm through his black fireproofs.
Gabi’s shoulders relaxed, to Nico’s satisfaction.
Of course, Barcelona was a difficult one. A genuine one-in-a-million retirement and it had to happen to Nico. A DNF by a singular piece of gravel wasn’t even a probable outcome. After that, he kept thinking: what if he steered the slightest bit more right? Or, waited a millisecond longer before hitting the accelerator?
He didn’t forget the way Gabi went out of his way to visit his drivers’ room after the race. The wordless hug. Nico collapsing onto his lap. Gabi’s hands slowly stroking his hair when usually it’d be the other way around.
His glanced at Gabi’s chocolate brown eyes and felt himself loosen, too.
Nico couldn’t imagine what would happen to him if Gabriel really had died, even though it was an outlandish thought.
Smiling lightly to himself, Nico let Gabi’s head roll onto his shoulder, running his fingers against the Brazilian’s scalp. Gabi’s hand shifted to squeeze Nico’s thigh softly.
“I know Audi will build a good car one year,” Gabriel said. Nico felt the movement of his teammate’s jaw against his deltoid. “Maybe we could win the championship, but you’ll be gone then.”
Hand pausing in Gabi’s curls, he blinked. “You have a championship in you, Gabi. I promise you I’ll watch it happen.”
His teammate sighed. “It won’t be the same. You won’t have your first win, and I won’t have you.”
Nico’s lips curled up bittersweetly. “Life moves on… I’ve had sixteen years here. I’ve won Le Mans. When I get kicked out, I’ll be right next door doing WEC.”
Seemingly out of a direct response, Gabi clung against Nico tighter. “Whatever. Just keep doing the hair thing. It feels nice.”
Grinning, he complied and ran his hand through the strands again, Gabi slowly going lax onto his collarbone. “Of course, chorizo.”
Gabriel’s only reaction was a half-annoyed grunt as he put his hand on top of Nico’s. His fingers were warm, lacing onto his, forming a small ball on top of the German’s thigh.
God, Nico was lucky.