Work Text:
"A cigarette? that doesn't seem like something you do."
Checo looks up to see the figure of Lewis standing beside him, all smiles and beautiful jewelry combined with a purple outfit. There's a Dunhill cigarette between his own fingers and he almost chokes by the sudden voice.
It's definitely a surprise to find him here, he made sure it was a hidden enough place so he wouldn't bump into anyone who might recognize him.
The start of the World Cup craze meant that a few teams were in the same hotel in Abu Dhabi, and although he's pretty sure someone told both Max and him that the Mercedes team was also here, he wasn't focused enough to pay attention to what he was being told.
If the Dutchman hadn't been sending little glances in their direction, while he was trying to avoid their gazes meeting, maybe he would have remembered that he could run into Lewis or George.
"At least not in public."
Checo wants to remind him that this terrace isn't exactly in public, that no one in this place is going to come out and take him a picture or yell a question that doesn't want to be answered.
But instead, he exhales the smoke from his previous puff and asks him the first question that popped into his head.
"Who told you I was here? I don't think anyone at the team even knows."
No one asks what you're going to do at this hour anyway, people want to go out to meet, have dinner or just see something different before they have to get back to work.
Lewis looks at the view on the terrace, the partial sea would answer him if they were on one of the room balconies but that wouldn't exactly be a good place to smoke a cigarette, instead he just sees a sandy square under construction where no one passes by.
It's not exactly the best Sergio could have found, but he's so fucking tired that even shame can't get to invade him like it would in other situations.
"Xavi told Angela."
That makes sense, Xavi had known about his escapades since he started working with him. He may have noticed that he hadn't been in his 5 senses these days.
The brand of these cigars is stupidly expensive and very different from the one he used to smoke on those early reliefs between races, but the nicotine buzz is pretty much the same.
"Mhm."
Sergio guesses that's the price of having them in the same hotel, he wonders if anyone else has tried to find out his whereabouts in the last hour.
Max must have finished his press duties a few hours ago as well. No, he must stop guiding thoughts that the Dutchman is looking for him.
No te está buscando he has to repeat to himself.
"So, is this about him or about the whole conspirative theory?"
Lewis never looks dubious in his actions, not even when he's sitting down and starting a conversation with someone who was involved in one of the closest fights for a championship last year.
(It won't matter much if Max manages to disintegrate public opinion in his favor and makes it look like none of it was asked for, none of it was demanded).
"both I guess."
He doesn't know why he answers honestly, maybe it's because of the security of being with someone who has known him as long as Lewis has, or because he heard what Toto said about Monaco and knows that Mercedes isn't even considering the possibility that something happened.
Maybe he just needs someone to exhale everything he's feeling right now.
"he didn't mind throwing me under the bus you know".
The point here is that Max wrapped him up with a bow to the lions, and Checo fell for it when he came out and said the things he said.
Creo que sí tiene 2 campeonatos es gracias a mi.
That's the kind of thing you say getting out of the car and it ends up haunting you for the rest of your life. The kind of statements that can be used as irony or as media fodder over and over again until it permeates your public persona.
"he didn't."
His eyes fill with tears of helplessness as he hears the response from the Brit who continues to stare straight ahead, Sergio might blame it on the smoke. He suddenly feels the impetuous urge to defend Max a little, as he always does when he talks about this with Lewis.
He wants things to get better, he wants them to be fine, he wants that when they interact he no longer feels the hollowness in his gut that ends up filling him with uncertainty, with the doubt of knowing if this interaction is real and won't come back to haunt him when things inevitably go wrong again.
"and I know that this is something about his family, his inner circle, his dad, but it is still..."
But he can't defend this, maybe he could defend the things that happened in the race, defend a position even when you know it means nothing to your stats, even when it meansnothing to your championship.
But he's not stupid enough to defend what happened afterwards.
He can still clearly hear Max saying "that's for you to decide" after being asked about Monaco, and that's a statement that it's not going to haunt Max any more than it will haunt Sergio.
"a shitty move".
He starts wondering if Lewis has some agenda here, if he's looking for something with this conversation - a confession? Some Red Bull secret? No, he doesn't really need that, however unstable his season has been.
Lewis looks at him with patient eyes as he speaks, Sergio supposes he has felt the betrayal of someone who has more ambitions than just being with you.
But he doesn't get to think about the 2016 situation no matter how much everyone in the media thinks the comparison is the most marketable thing these days. They both know this is different than what happened between Nico and Lewis, the bad blood isn't as violent or as venomous.
And as much as the sleepless nights with Max now feel fuzzy and tinged with uncertainty, Sergio knows they were real.
Still he appreciates Lewis's effort to look at him with pretty chocolate eyes.
He takes another puff of smoke from a cigarette that begins to unravel between his fingers.
"a really shitty move."
He responds simply by ending the confessions, turning his gaze back to the street because there isn't much else to say in this situation. He can feel Lewis avert his gaze from his direction as he stands up and stretches. Sergio sighs out the smoke again as he allows himself to close his eyes for a second.
"Here."
He looks back at the other driver who holds out the top of his outfit revealing a white t-shirt that still matches, the purple sweatshirt that clearly doesn't combine with his own style folded unevenly. He asks the question with his eyes why are you giving me this?
"I know you don't like the aircon in the hotel."
Sergio told him that, after a party in 2015. He remembers stumbling together too drunk to think anything the next day and simply saying he felt too overwhelmed whenever he was in hotels with the aircon too high.
The cold always made him feel lonely, reminding him too much of winters in Germany, and too expensive calls to home. Max didn't like the cold either so they couldn't exactly swap team sweatshirts.
"Besides, your clothes probably smell like smoke now."
The smirk in his face is memorable, and makes him yearn for him. He's not surprised that Lewis remembers something like that, he's always been a detail man.
He stubs out the cigarette that's burning itself out and takes the sweatshirt bumping into Lewis' pretty tattooed fingers, surprised at the softness of the fabric when the other lets go.
"Thank you, Lew."
He doesn't need to say it but Lewis probably knows it's not just about the sweatshirt.
"I hope you have a good winter break Sergio."
A good omen from someone without an agenda on his life, that's nice. The sweatshirt smells like Lewis's cologne and he can't help but hold it closer just a little longer.
"You too."
Sergio doesn't light another cigarette after the other leaves, but he feels a little more liberated. As if a small part of himself just wanted someone to understand what happened, to see what really happened..
For the first time this week, Sergio doesn't think about what Max would say if he found him on the way to his room, he doesn't even think about what his opinion would be about the sweatshirt he's currently wearing. And if he wraps himself a little stronger in the LH brand essence, well, that's something that only he knows.