Chapter Text
The last thing Lewis expected when Seb invited him to the annual F1 Christmas party was for Nico Rosberg to show up. And especially not in the terrible eyesore of a suit–seriously, that Christmas suit vest was ugly.
But then again, when did things ever go the way he expected?
He stood near the bar, drink in hand. His eyes flitted over the people dancing and others standing in groups, but he didn’t dare look over to the corner where a certain blonde was lingering.
He wondered who even invited Nico. It wasn’t like he was on the current F1 grid or anything, and he didn’t come to races as often anymore, if at all. Lewis himself hadn’t seen Nico for a long time. Actually, it had been so long that he didn’t even remember the last time they talked. It was mutual, neither of them made the effort to reach out or connect. It was probably just better that way.
Things between them hadn’t ended well when Nico retired, and they still haven’t fixed whatever had happened between them. Not that either of them had tried in the first place. And just because he defended Lewis online as well as interviews, and argued his case even when he didn’t need to, it didn’t mean that Lewis regretted breaking off all connections with him. Of course it didn’t. It wasn’t like he ever liked Nico in the first place anyway. Of course not.
Lewis sipped on his Grinch cocktail (the bar had some…interesting Christmas specials) and tried to look like he wasn’t bored, even though he would rather be anywhere else. He should’ve stayed home. How long did he have to stay until he could leave? He checked his watch, and then instantly regretted it.
This was going to be a long night.
***
Nico almost spat out his drink when Lewis walked in through the door of the venue. To be honest, he should’ve expected Lewis to show up.
But then again, Lewis usually didn’t come to social events like this.
He moved to the corner, hoping that he hadn’t been spotted by Lewis yet. Talking to him was not something he could handle, at least not in the near future. They haven’t spoken to each other in ages, and he assumed that it was probably better for it to stay that way. Even if they did talk to each other, he didn’t know what either of them would say, or what they would even talk about. It didn’t matter anyway, because he was sure that there was no way they would end up having a conversation. At least not if he was cautious.
Maybe he should just enjoy himself, instead of worrying about Lewis. It was a Christmas party, after all.
He would need a few more drinks, though.
***
Lewis watched as Nico strode up to the far side of the bar and gestured for another drink. It was probably a smart idea to get some more alcohol in his system. How else would he get through this unbearably long evening?
The Brit asked for something stronger this time, and when he turned back, Nico was looking straight at him, almost like he was waiting for something to happen.
Now, he knew that he promised himself that he would have nothing to do with Nico, but with those blue eyes practically staring into his soul, he didn’t know if he would be able to keep to his vow.
Honestly, the things that the German made him feel were unfair and quite inappropriate. The things he would do to him if he had the chance were even more unspeakable. He would never admit it, though. At least not out loud.
***
A few drinks turned into too many drinks.
Nico downed another shot of what he assumed was vodka (he wasn't even sure what he was drinking at this point, the bartender said it was called a “Mistletoe shot”) and wandered over to the dance floor. Some random, indistinct remix was playing, the bass boosted all the way. He felt the beat throbbing in his body, taking over. The crowd enveloped him in his own world where he lost himself to the music, where nothing and no one mattered.
He danced. And he danced. And he danced. It felt nice to just not care about anything or anyone, to just let go. His body moved on its own, carrying itself to the beat. And even though he could feel an oncoming headache in the back of his head, he was too immersed to care about it. Or he was too immersed to feel it. Either way, it didn't matter. He hadn't felt like this in forever, and it was thrilling.
At some point, a stranger from the crowd grinded up against him, then started kissing his neck. And it didn’t exactly feel…right, but it was better than absolutely nothing, so he took it as a win.
He just had to pretend that he didn't imagine that Lewis' hands were on his body instead of some random guy.
***
Lewis definitely wasn't jealous of the guy that was pressed against Nico. He definitely wasn't jealous when the stranger kissed up and down his neck. Definitely not.
Okay, maybe a little bit.
But no one had to know that.
As he grabbed another drink, he tried to distract himself from the fact that he may or may not be pining for Nico. It wasn’t his fault that the German was really fucking hot. Those eyes, oh those eyes. And that hair. God, that hair, he’d do anything just to dig his hands in it.
After a few more drinks (and an internal debate), he convinced himself to go onto the dance floor and attempt…honestly, he didn’t even know what he was trying to pull off. He just hoped that something would magically happen without any need for effort on his side. Or without the need to think rationally.
He slowly made his way over to where Nico was dancing, blending into the crowd by swaying on beat, and then suddenly he was pressed against the back of Nico. The stranger was gone by now and Lewis took this as a chance to grasp at him, his hands placing themselves on Nico’s hips.
The German turned and looked surprised, but Lewis knew him well enough to know that he was just acting. It wouldn’t fool him, even if they haven’t talked with each other for a long time. Nico carded a hand through his hair, and Lewis could tell he was either nervous or excited. Or possibly annoyed. Probably annoyed.
They danced together, moving to the beat as one. Lewis couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this exhilarated. His body felt like it was on fire where Nico placed subtle yet effective touches, and the Brit had to resist the undeniable urge to just kiss him. Goddamn, he knew that Nico was attractive, but up close he realised that it was just unfair at this point. Even though he was wearing a stupid Christmas suit. Nico grinded up against his crotch, and Lewis had to hold back a moan, which proved to be incredibly difficult.
Okay, that urge to kiss him was getting really strong. He could barely hold back anymore.
So, instead of going for Nico’s lips (that would be way too intimate, obviously), he started kissing along his neck. Now it was Nico who was the one who had to hold back a moan, and Lewis smiled into the soft skin of his neck. That was exactly what he was aiming for.
Their bodies found a rhythm, they kissed and moaned and grabbed and held, and Lewis couldn’t ask for more.
Eventually, the amount of alcohol he had consumed caught up with him and his bladder suddenly felt like it was about to overflow.
Lewis started towards the back of the room, but Nico caught his arm, his eyes crestfallen.
“Where are you going?” He asked.
"Bathroom."
He slunk around groups of people dancing and off the dance floor towards the back of the venue, then into the bathroom.
He splashed cold water onto his face, and it served as a wake-up call, a bleak reminder of what he was getting himself into. He knew that what he was doing was risky, but Nico was so fucking irresistible. He was on the limit, on the edge, and he was dangerously close to falling. At least, if he hadn't already. God, what was he doing? If he went any further with Nico, he knew he was fucked. Like, royally fucked. And not in the good way. Well, maybe in the good way, but also in the bad way.
He just didn’t know what he could do to stop himself. The risk somehow made it better, more exciting, more thrilling. More electrifying. And he just couldn’t get enough. He would never be able to get enough.
When he turned, Nico was at the door, watching him.
“What do you want?” Lewis narrowed his eyes.
“Were you not… oh.” A look of realisation dawned upon Nico.
“I was just going to the bathroom, not, you know…”
“Yeah, sorry.” Nico sounded disappointed, and Lewis couldn’t help but feel sort of bad. As much as he hated him, it hurt to see him like this. It almost felt like he only wanted Lewis. But obviously Nico didn’t, because they despised each other. Obviously.
He just stood there, and Lewis stood there too, and they both stared at each other. It strangely felt more intimate than kissing him on the dance floor.
They stayed like that for a moment, just standing there. It was kind of nice, honestly, but then Lewis spots the mistletoe hung on the doorway. A mischievous smile grew on his face.
***
"Oh look, mistletoe." Lewis pointed out, his gaze focused above them.
And right as Nico began to move closer, the Brit turned away. He fucking turned away.
Honestly, Lewis was going to be the death of him. Well, more like he was going to be the death of Lewis, because Nico was frighteningly close to murdering him.
He smiled. Now it was his turn to provoke Lewis.
He stormed out of the bathroom, shoving past Lewis carelessly and into the loud ambience of the club.
Seb made eye contact with him from where he was talking to Kimi and gave him a questioning look.
He didn't really have time to explain; Lewis was close behind him.
He weaved between the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd to finally make it to the double doors of the club.
When he pushed them open, he was greeted with chilly air and the twinkling lights of the city at night, and he paused for a second to take it all in. After he had retired, he had learned to appreciate the small things that he didn't have time for when he was driving. It had made his life a lot richer, but even then, it still felt like something was missing. Like there was a piece that he didn't have. It was just a matter of figuring out what it was.
He turned in to a random alley, hoping that Lewis wouldn't find him, while also hoping that Lewis would find him.
It was cold enough to see his own breath, as he exhaled a small cloud dissipates into the air.
He turned his head when he heard the echo of a door opening and closing, and suddenly Lewis was standing at the end of the alley.
"Stop being a coward, Nico. You always run away." Lewis said, but it didn't even sound like he meant it all that much.
Even though it was hard to tell if Lewis was being genuine, it still hurt to hear him say that. He was partially shocked, too, and he was quiet for a moment.
And then he snapped.
“What’s your fucking problem?” Nico snarled, frustrated.
“You.” He retaliated, moving closer.
“Oh, wow. Nice one. You got me there.” His voice practically dripped with sarcasm.
Lewis frowned.
“Cut the shit, Nico.”
“No, you cut the shit. You taunt me all night, flirt, lead me to the bathrooms, and then you tell me to cut the shit? Real mature, especially from a seven-time world champion. What else do you have up your sleeve, huh? What else are you planning to do to me? How else are you thinking of torturing me? I’d like to know. Really.”
Lewis couldn't take it anymore.
He pushed Nico up against the wall, pinning him in place as his mouth latched onto the German's neck. The air was heavy with desire and things left unspoken, and the alley echoed with Nico's moans. Lewis planted kisses along his jaw and down his neck, and he made sure to suck hard enough for there to be marks for a week while Nico's hands made their way to his waist. He pulled him closer, his fingers gripping Lewis tightly.
“I fucking hate you.” Lewis whispered, taunting, although he wasn’t even sure if his words were the truth.
His attempt to rile Nico up worked because the German flipped them around aggressively.
“I’m gonna make you regret saying that,” He whispered back.
“Oh, will you?” Lewis countered with a smirk.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll see about that.”