Work Text:
This was a bad idea.
Lewis knew it the moment he accepted the offer, but the excitement for his new season with Ferrari clouded his judgment. Blame him if you want. So, when the team approached him with a smile and an invitation to participate in the filming of Grill the Grid, he didn’t think twice.
At first, it wasn’t as terrible as he had imagined. It was essentially a recognition game: three faces of drivers, retired or current, blended together for him to guess who they were. Nothing complicated. He was even enjoying the challenge, trying to identify eyes, foreheads, and chins in those absurd Photoshop compositions.
Until the next image appeared.
Fernando’s forehead.
Mika’s eyes.
And those lips.
Those damn lips.
Lewis didn’t think about Nico as often as people believed. It wasn’t that he stayed up at night because memories suddenly attacked him, nor that merely saying his name felt like a stab to the heart. No.
There were only… moments. Very specific, almost treacherous moments when their relationship, if it could be called that, flooded his mind like a tidal wave. This was one of those moments.
While pretending in front of the cameras not to recognize that chin, his memory dragged him back to scenes blurred by time, like an old movie he hadn’t seen in years but whose lines he could still recite by heart.
Australia, 2008
He was happy, euphoric, overwhelmed with adrenaline. He had won the race, yes, but there was something more… a small spark in his chest that grew with each step toward the stairs. It had begun the moment he learned who he would share the podium with.
His mind was spinning, speeding up. His steps grew faster, driven by anticipation. The victory was sweet, but the expectation of seeing who awaited him in the cooling room intoxicated him. P3. First podium in Formula 1. His old karting partner and rival. His friend.
Nico.
When he entered the room, there he was, already without his helmet, waiting. Lewis hurried to remove his own and left it on the nearest table, along with everything else he had in his hands. He hugged him without reservation. And, at that moment, everything exploded inside him.
The warmth in his chest spread through his whole body. Nico wrapped his arms around him, and happiness filled the room like an invisible perfume. They jumped a couple of times, laughing like children, celebrating clumsily but sincerely.
And with Nico in his arms, his hair still damp with sweat, cheeks flushed from the effort, and that wide smile showing all his teeth… Lewis couldn’t help but let his gaze fall to his lips.
On the podium, while the national anthem played, Lewis felt he couldn’t be prouder of his effort, what he had achieved, and sharing that moment with him. He couldn’t wait for the celebration, to shower him with champagne, to let him know how good it felt to be up there… with him.
Brazil, 2008
He had won.
His mind still couldn’t process it. World champion. Race winner. A lifelong dream finally reached. His name would be etched alongside legends.
He got out of the car to celebrate with his team. Everything was a distant buzz, shouts, music, commotion. He was lost in the moment, in the magnitude of what had happened. He knew that, over the years, that afternoon would become history. History he would be part of.
Later, after the podium and interviews, when the noise died down and the circuit was empty, Lewis stayed in the garage. Among abandoned glasses, confetti, and forgotten jackets, he thought of heading to the hotel. And then he saw him leaning on the door, looking at him with an affection that squeezed his chest.
—Nico…
He didn’t get to say more. The German ran to him and threw himself into his arms; Lewis had to hold on tight to avoid falling.
—You’re world champion, Lew. A world champion —Nico whispered, his voice low but full of emotion.
Lewis didn’t respond. He just swallowed hard, trying to choke back the tears threatening to return. He had cried too much in those hours already.
What he did do was pull away slightly to look at the man in front of him. His eyes were red, as if he too had had to hold back tears, but his smile was wide, sincere, radiant.
Lewis raised a hand to touch his face, to run his fingers through his hair, something he’d wanted to do for a long time. And once again, his eyes betrayed him, drifting down to those lips pink, soft, so tempting… He could swear Nico’s eyes also searched for his mouth. But neither moved. Maybe because they knew that one step further could change everything.
An engineer interrupted the moment, looking for the champion. Both stepped apart and walked toward the exit in silence, a comfortable silence, wrapped in a warmth that needed no words.
If that night Lewis thought again about what it would be like to kiss Nico, he blamed it on the adrenaline of victory.
December 2013
Teammates.
They were going to be teammates.
They had dreamed of this since they were kids, talking late into the night on Nico’s father’s yacht, counting stars side by side, smiling at the promise of wonders that destiny might bring them.
It was already night when Lewis showed up at the blond’s apartment door with a bottle of wine in hand, ready to celebrate what the coming year held for them. He didn’t take long to arrive; for some time now, they had become neighbors, just one floor apart.
Nico opened the door with his usual smile, let him in, and went to the kitchen for two glasses and the corkscrew. They settled on the couch, barely any space between them, their legs brushed, and every word carried the other’s breath.
Between sips, the memories came flooding back, childhood, summers in Greece, karting tracks, ice cream and late-night cereals. Each anecdote from one found a response in the other’s memory, like pieces of a puzzle only they could complete together.
Little by little, they drew closer. The space between their faces became imperceptible. Lewis looked at him as if discovering him for the first time, beautiful, cheeks flushed from the wine, tiny freckles on his nose, eyelashes so close he could count them. They got lost in each other’s gaze, in a silence heavy with something neither dared name. It was like a secret shared only through their eyes.
Lewis sank into the deep sea of those blue irises while a persistent question echoed in his mind since he’d stepped inside:
What if…?
Before the thought could fully form, a song blasted through the walls, breaking the bubble. A neighbor had decided to throw a party in the middle of the night. They could complain, yes, but they knew it wasn’t worth it. They laughed to dispel the moment and called the evening to an end.
Back in his own apartment, Lewis took a quick shower and collapsed onto his bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He hoped the alcohol would erase the memory of lips so close… and yet, so far away.
Abu Dhabi, 2016
He had won the race… and yet he had lost. Though he wasn’t quite sure what.
His friendship with Nico was shattered. Becoming teammates had completely destroyed them. Their rivalry had grown with every race, to the point where Lewis could no longer look him in the eyes… though he remembered their color perfectly.
Before all this, he had believed their bond was stronger, that nothing could separate them. But reality had proved otherwise. He didn’t recognize the man he once called his best friend. Nico had become a stranger, capable of things Lewis never imagined… and he was no innocent either. Both had dealt and taken blows. That balance of blame haunted him.
Perhaps that was why he let his mind wander during the press conference, drifting back to their childhood: playing in a shared room, stuffing their mouths with pizza and ice cream in silly competitions, laughing without restraint. He spoke of how much he still cared, despite everything; that their rivalry was strong, but they could make it work the following year.
When he finished, he saw Nico’s eyes fill with tears. He wanted to blame it on the euphoria of being champion, he knew the feeling well. But deep down, he knew there was something else, something profound and silent that no attempt to hide could mask.
During the team’s celebration, Lewis sought him out. He found him outside the hall, in an empty corner, staring into nothingness.
— Congratulations on the championship —he said quietly but sincerely —You deserve it.
Nico looked at him directly. His eyes, wet and trembling, said much more than his lips could speak. Lewis wanted to say something, an apology, words of comfort, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him.
Then, without warning, Nico approached, took his face in his hands, and gently wiped away the tears that had begun to fall down his cheeks. Time stopped. They were just the two of them again, under a sky that had witnessed everything they had meant to each other.
They closed their eyes. Their lips met. And in that silent kiss, they said everything they hadn’t been able to for years, fear, sadness, regret, and the wrenching pain of loss.
There were no promises. No miracles. Just a tacit agreement… it was okay to let go.
When Nico pulled away and left, Lewis cried until the world blurred, savoring on his lips something he would never have again.
Five days later, Nico announced his retirement.
A team member, noticing Lewis was struggling to guess, decided to give him a hint:
— You know him very well.
Lewis looked back at the photo. He observed those lips and felt the old chest where he’d locked away a forbidden feeling creak open.
— It’s Nico.
He said it quickly, eager to move on to the next face. Minutes later, the game time ended. Lewis stepped away, trying to hide just how much that image had affected him.
Should_be_working Mon 11 Aug 2025 04:47AM UTC
Comment Actions