#6344

It was different with Lewis, who guided him with nothing but kindness. He always felt small next to him, despite being the taller of the two. Something about Lewis was so deeply comforting that it nestled inside George’s chest and stayed there. George loved being his helper and opponent all at once, he was ecstatic the first time he beat him, he cheered for Lewis when he won. It was a good match. George was happy for him now, Ferrari was many young boys’ dreams. 

The problem was not losing Lewis to another team, and it wasn’t Kimi either. George just felt like something small had fallen out of him and he had no idea where to find it. He held no resentment! He wasn’t overly upset over the parting. Something was just off, like the whole world had tilted off balance. It wasn’t a big issue, just something uncomfortable. No worse then cutting a nail too short. It wasn’t painful, or noticeable to an outside eye. Something was simply absent. George would just have to get over that.

Especially today, qualifying. George needed to be focused. Which he decidedly wasn’t, given that two steps into the paddock had him with a faceful of owl feathers- Thanks Toto. 

“George! What’s the matter with you?” His boss’s voice followed him as he continued forward. George just waved behind himself. “Sorry Toto!” He calls back. Aware of how his feathers are all ruffled now, he flicks out his wings with a grumble. This day is just going to be one of those days, he’s sure of it now. He just weaves through the team. Heading to go get ready and hopefully get his head in the damn game. 

A couple media duties later and George is getting dressed in his room. Staring into the mirror in his fire proofs. He knows that- objectively- he looks good. He’s not visibly tired, his skin is flawless, his hair is about to be smothered by a balaclava. His wings flap behind him, smooth and soft. The wings of a mourning dove, well groomed and soft. They’re nothing flashy, no bright colors nor a massive wingspan. Simple, understated. George used to love them, but now he just felt indifferent. Nothing special, nothing that screamed racing star like Max and his stupid falcon wings. He wasn’t intimidating like Fernando’s osprey wings. He didn’t have the drop dead gorgeous pink flamingo colors like Franco. They were plain, he was plain. 

Learning to fit them in the Mercedes car was funny. You can always trust Mercedes to have some funny different system for their drivers. Lewis had helped him funnily enough. Those gorgeous black swan wings were harder to handle than George’s. Still, he remembers kind hands slotting his feathers into place and walking him through everything. Something about that makes his head hurt. No time for that nonsense. George just zips up his racesuit and goes. 

- - -

Qualifying did what Qualifying does. That’s to say, George did fairly poorly. P7 in a Mercedes wasn’t bad- but it also wasn’t entirely forgivable. Neither was being outperformed by your rookie teammate and a Haas. So, that not great mood wasn’t getting any better.

Really, this was getting annoying. He was annoyed, that he was annoyed. So it made this sort of uncomfortable feedback loop that felt itchy all over. He was sweaty from the car, but the night was cool so he was cold all over. He was thirsty and hungry and sick of it all. George just tried to stay focused. He was snappier than intended with the media, he was mostly quiet through debrief, and he was cordial and gave his congratulations to Kimi. He did all the things he was supposed to do before going to gather his belongings and get out of here. 

Digging his things out of his bag was a usual challenge, given he stuffed a spare jacket and other things in there pretty often to crowd up the space, but today he gave up and just turned the thing upside down. Dislodging his paddock pass to get out, his phone, and a large black feather. It landed in George’s hand softly and put a stop to his frustrated movements. 

It takes a moment to recognize, as George has had this bag forever so the feather could really be anybody’s. The feel of it though, that George recognizes instantly. It’s Lewis’s, that sleek black softness had to be his. He remembered what it felt like to have that massive swan wing wrapped around his side in a side hug, to be enveloped in nothing but comfort.

Comfort. That was it wasn’t it. Gentleness and care. Kindness. That’s what George missed. He missed it all, and he missed it coming from Lewis. 

He abandoned his bag there in the drivers room and ran. Cutting past a dozen people who asked him what the hell he was doing. He passed everyone from Mercedes and ducked straight into Ferrari. He apologized to the security people and swore it was urgent. He was tearing up enough that nobody gave him too much grief about it. From there it was a bit of stumbling before slamming straight into the driver’s room. 

“George-?” Lewis turns around, clearly confused to see him. Lewis did worse then George, so really why was he here crying to him. All of a sudden he felt stupid and small and empty. 

He tries to talk, explain himself at all, but all he finds are tears. Reaching for Lewis and just praying he understood. 

By the grace of Something, he does. Warm arms pull him closer and soft wings wrap around him. He’s held so tightly and it feels like becoming whole again. Lewis cards gentle fingers through George’s feathers. He coos at him softly like everything is okay when it’s not. Except maybe it is now. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, ducking down into Lewis’s shoulder. 

Lewis just chuckles, “Nothing to be sorry about. I get it, feels like the world’s falling apart.” 

“I missed you,” slips out of George's mouth without permission. It gives them both pause, and when George pulls back slightly, Lewis brings a hand up to his face. Gently thumbing away tears. 

“I missed you too, dove.” It sounds like a promise, and George feels like the world just clicked into place. 

Jealous, possessive sugar baby George Russell...

Overally chill, "happy wife, happy life" sugar daddy Lewis Hamilton that does whatever George wants because that's his sweetheart

Sugar baby George Russell that likes to be shown off to all of Lewis' rich friends because lets be honest, he's a bit of an attention whore.

Sugar baby George Russell that gets too attached because he deffo has daddy issues and Lewis is a older man thats nice to him actually.

Sugar baby George Russell that works for Lewis, and is an incredibly hard worker because he can't help but want to please Lewis in any way he can.

Sugar daddy Lewis Hamilton that will drop everything because his sweet George asked him to come home.

Sugar daddy Lewis Hamilton that gets too attached because he just can't help himself when George is so endearing.

Sugar daddy Lewis Hamilton that designs clothes specifically for George to wear, so that he can show George off.

^ then gets possessive when people start staring TOO much...

Sugar daddy Lewis Hamilton that loves posting and taking photos of George, because he's stunning

Better yet, sugar MOMMY Lewis Hamilton.