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He had been watching the man with golden hair all through qualifying.

The sunlight seemed made for him his pale skin glowing pink under the heat. The world might assume he’d forgotten sunscreen, but that wasn’t it. The sun just loved him too much.

Lewis’s real problem, though, was what Nico was wearing a green smoke linen shirt with white pants. The top two buttons undone, just enough to show his collarbone and a teasing glimpse of his chest. He looked relaxed, effortless, dangerously cozy.

Lewis wanted nothing more than to drag him behind the garage and actually feel that softness under his hands. But all he could do now was steal glances. So he texted him before quali began:

Nico ❤️

DO NOT CHANGE YOUR SHIRT AFTER THE RACE. I WANT YOU IN THE SAME OUTFIT WHEN I RETURN TO THE HOTEL.

The real torture came later, when Lewis got on pole position and found Nico opposite him during the interview.

It wasn’t often they shared a camera frame anymore, but there he was leaning on one leg, mic in hand, relaxed as ever. Standing few feets apart, Lewis could tell Nico was doing it on purpose. He bit his lip, trying not to smile, but ended up winking anyway. Nico’s eyes widened something the cameras thankfully missed.

The post-quali briefing felt endless. Lewis’s mind wasn’t on strategy or tire management it was stuck on that shirt. That skin. That smile.

He reached the hotel an hour and a half after Nico. He prayed Nico had taken his message seriously and hadn’t changed. Normally, neither of them was a fan of wearing paddock clothes again; they reeked of rubber, engine oil, and, on sunny days, sweat. But today, Lewis couldn’t care less. He wanted to breathe in that green smoke shirt.

He almost ran through the corridors to Nico’s room. He rang the bell because, well, they couldn’t exactly share keys for obvious reasons.

There stood Nico, wearing a bored expression and that same shirt.

“Sir Hamilton, glad you’ve arrived,” Nico teased with a fake polite smile.

Lewis didn’t hear a thing. “Finally,” he murmured with a grin, grabbing Nico by the collar and pinning him to the wall, capturing his lips like he’d been thirsty for ages. The fabric under his hands felt exactly how he’d imagined all day, warm from Nico’s body heat, soft from years of wear. It didn’t even smell of the paddock, meaning Nico must’ve washed and dried it right after arriving.

He slid one hand behind Nico’s head, knowing things were about to get heated. The only sounds in the room were the door closing and a satisfied sigh escaping from one of them. Nico smiled into the kiss as his fingers traced Lewis’s neck and cheeks. It had been more than two decades, yet Nico’s touch still brought the same warmth and calm to him.

Meanwhile, Lewis’s hands found Nico’s waist still lean, still firm. No ounce of fat. He knew it was due to all the sugar-cutting and the disciplined diet. Nico was vegan like Lewis, but he’d been more conscious ever since 2016, when he was fighting for the WDC. Lewis worried sometimes—but as long as Nico was happy and healthy, that’s what mattered.

“Stop zoning out on me,” Nico murmured, breaking the kiss and moving his lips toward Lewis’s neck toward his favorite tattoos.

That’s when things intensified. Nico unzipped Lewis’s jacket, exposing his tattooed body, while Lewis fumbled impatiently with the buttons of that shirt.

He was about to rip them off when Nico warned, “It’s my favorite.”

So, Lewis’s tattooed hands worked quickly instead, undoing them one by one. Nico giggled and oh, how he’d missed that sound.

After all, Nico wasn’t at every race anymore. Since his retirement, he only worked at a few five or so per season, so their moments together were rare and precious.

Lewis looked up from the buttons to the man he loved, giggling, a golden lock falling across his forehead. He looked angelic, he was angelic. He always had been. Those blue eyes still held the same charisma, depth, and love as they did decades ago only now they carried more calmness, more patience.

They went back to tangling into each other, pulling closer, tugging at the last pieces of clothing. The need was clear. The urgency stronger.

By midnight, they lay beside each other, the duvet pulled up to their midriffs. Nico lay on his side, back to Lewis, while Lewis’s hand gently caressed his golden hair and held his other hand across his stomach. The only sounds were the soft hum of the AC and their quiet breaths.

“I love your hair so much,” Lewis murmured, pressing a kiss to his head. He’d said that line a thousand times.

But what Nico said next made his chest tighten.

“That’s the only thing left,” Nico whispered with a sad laugh, bitterness lacing his voice.

It felt like someone had stabbed Lewis in the chest.

“What do you mean?” His voice was gentle but edged with hurt. He knew Nico had a habit of overthinking, he needed to be patient.

Nico didn’t look at him; he stared at the window where the city lights spilled in.

“Nico, hey,” Lewis said softly, cupping his face. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Finally, Nico turned to him, blue eyes glistening with the same depth they’d had 25 years ago.

“I said what I said, Lewis. That’s the only thing left. I’m not beautiful like before. I’m not that pretty anymore. My face has changed, I look paler and older, because well yeah I am older. I’m not what I was, you know? And it’s okay if you don’t find me beautiful anymore haa other than my hair.”

He let out a bitter chuckle that quickly broke into shaky breaths. “I mean, I’d pray not to go bald, but but—” His voice cracked, tears pooling in his eyes. He tried to cover them with his hand, not wanting Lewis to see.

Lewis had seen Nico cry before many times since they were young. He always let him feel. Sometimes he’d wipe the tears; sometimes he’d just hold space.

He gently took Nico’s hands away, revealing a tear-streaked face, eyebrows drawn tight, skin flushed pink from crying.

“You’re gorgeous, Lewis,” Nico said through uneven breaths. “You’re everything better. You’re Mein Gott, wunderschön und atemberaubend. I don’t deserve you anymore. And it’s fine if you don’t want me. You deserve someone better.”

Lewis’s heart clenched. He knew these insecurities weren’t sudden they’d been simmering for a while.

He took a deep breath, reached for his phone, and said softly, “Sit up for me.”

Nico looked confused but obeyed. Lewis handed him the phone.

“What?” Nico asked, frowning. “You want me to see how ugly I look?”

Lewis said nothing, guiding his hand to tilt the phone down toward his chest. Nico’s eyes widened as he saw the reflection his own chest, scattered with red, purple, and pink marks.

“You see that?” Lewis said quietly. “Now tell me I don’t want you.”

Nico’s lips wobbled as his tears returned. He dropped the phone, covering his face again, his voice breaking. “It’s so stupid. I’m forty and still feeling this way.”

Lewis smiled softly. “It’s okay to feel this way, Nico. There’s nothing wrong with it. But remember, I didn’t fall for you because of how you looked, well, I did, a little but that’s just one part. What matters is who you are. We all change physically. What’s inside stays the same. You’re still the same for me, and you always will be.”

He cupped Nico’s face in his tattooed hands, his touch as gentle as a whisper. “You were my angel, Nico... from the first day I saw you, too unreal for this world. And after all this time, you still are. Too loving, too caring, too sensitive but like in all the right ways. You were born to spread love. And I’m grateful this golden-haired, blue-eyed angel is mine. The beauty is just a bonus.”

Nico laughed through his tears. Lewis dropped a kiss on his nose, earning a scrunched-up reaction.

“Okay,” Nico murmured, snuggling into Lewis’s neck. “Then I’ll let you be the hotter one in this relationship now.”

Lewis laughed. “Sure, love. Whatever you say.”

He ran his fingers through Nico’s golden hair again and whispered, “My golden-haired angel.”

(spot the difference, you can't !)