#gewis fic

George eventually drags himself to the door, and a glance in the mirror he keeps beside the entry makes him incredibly aware of how he looks. His hair’s a mess, unshowered and ungroomed. That’s not to mention his wrinkled clothes, pale complexion, and the bags under his eyes. He likes to think he’s pretty on a good day, and right now he certainly isn’t. It does not make him want to open the door further. 

The knocking is incessant though, so George shoves the door open and pulls together all his PR trained skill to get ready to tell this person to, politely, bugger off. Except the person on the other side of the door is Lewis. Put together and smiling on George’s doorstep. He’s holding a grocery sack, for some reason, and when he sees George his eyes do something that gives the impression of pity. “Hey mate, thought I could swing by and we’d make some lunch together,” Lewis informs the taller man. “You doing alright?” 

“Yeah.. yeah fine. My kitchen’s not really set up for company right now..” George mumbles. 

“Ah who cares! We’ve seen each other after Singapore afterall,” Lewis shrugs. George can’t really stop the man from barging in. Before George even starts to protest Lewis is down the hall and turning on the kitchen lights. “Just some stew! I learned this amazing potato recipe. It looks amazing on the website so we just have to try it. I checked with your trainer-” 

“You called my trainer?” George questions, following tiredly into the kitchen, Lewis doesn’t even take note.

“-And it’s 100% diet approved! So we’re in for a good one, where are your pots?” Lewis’s smile is blindingly bright when he whips around to face George again. Pure and sweet and blindingly bright. 

George is ashamed of how long he thinks about that. He doesn’t cook as much as he should. “The uh.. The cabinet under the stove. Wait, when did I agree to this? Lewis?” 

“Lew..”

“Make yourself useful, come cut up these carrots.” 

With that, George really has no choice but to listen. He gets his act together and marches right over. He really doesn’t understand what they’re doing, or why, but he does as told. Cuts the carrots Lewis peels into nice little coins. The satisfying, repetitive thunk of the knife against the cutting board is soothing. Relaxes the rabid prey animal that George’s mind seems to turn into on days like this.

It’s just frustrating. Of course it’s Lewis doing this. Lewis whose team built a car that starts right. Lewis who left George behind. Lewis who’s so understanding and kind. Who just left. Like nothing. Because maybe that’s what George is. Look at him, driving the rocket ship the world is jealous of and he’s here whining. 

“George?” Lewis’ voice– surprisingly close– drags George out of his own head. He finds his hands shaking and Lewis pressed up behind him to take hold and prevent George from accidentally hurting himself. “You alright, darling?”

“No.” It comes out before George can stop it. “No..! I’m not.. And it sucks. Because everything’s supposed to be great!”

The tears are hot and feel sticky on George’s face. No, that’s not right. He’s not supposed to cry about it. Whining is unbecoming of him. He makes some frustrated noise and Lewis just wraps him up tighter in a hug, vegetables momentarily forgotten. 

“Why don’t you sit down for a bit. Have a cry, I’ll handle lunch.” Lewis hums against George’s neck, still a constant pressure against his back. “I’m here for you George.” 

No you’re not. Is what George wants to say. He wants to scream and cry because Lewis left him behind and he wants him back. “I’m fine.” He tries to choke out instead, but Lewis just gracefully maneuvers them both and deposits George on a stool of the island. He doesn’t stop crying, just sits there with his shoulders hunched and shaking. Lewis keeps a hand on George whenever possible as he cooks. Making himself close and present. 

George loses track of time, all he knows is that he feels wrung out by the time there's a bowl in front of him and Lewis is sitting beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lewis asks gently, brushing a foot to George’s shin.

“Not particularly,” George grips, biting into his food to try and avoid words. Lewis was right, it tastes good.

“Helps to talk.” Lewis tries to insist, but George isn’t having any of it.

George really doesn’t mean to snap, but the words leave his mouth without going through the usual filter thanks to his tiredness. “To you? News Flash, you’re on the wrong team for that.” 

Lewis is quiet for a while, before he carefully moves. Reaching a hand to gently thumb away the tears gathering in the corner of those pretty blue eyes. “Oh George… you don’t think that. I didn’t want to leave you, you know this.” 

“Yeah? Well now I’m in the stupid good car for once! And you’re still catching me! And now Kimi’s here.. And I just wish it was you! I wish it was easier! Why’s it always on me now?” George cries, leaning into that warm palm like it’s the only thing keeping him the same. 

“Because you can handle it now,” Lewis hums, “You are brilliant and I won’t hear anything to the contrary. You’ll figure it out, so don’t go beating yourself up.” 

George sniffles, blinking at Lewis. “Doesn’t bring you back.”

“Oh but I never left, darling. I’m right down the road. I’m in the paddock every time. You know I’m here, sometimes you’ve got to help yourself. I’m here to catch you, but you’ve got to be willing to fall.” 

George can’t help but laugh miserably at that, moving his chair so he can tuck into Lewis’s side. It’s warm, and comforting. They don’t talk for a bit, but Lewis brings spoonfuls of the stew to George’s mouth and gives him room to process it all.

It’s nice, George could get used to this. Having somebody hold him together for a little bit. 

“... you’ll be there to catch me?”

“Always, sweetheart, always.”

A/N: Yeah I needed to write a little bite of angst. Lewis will always have his boys back. This seems to be a recurring theme with my Gewis work. Dw! I have something brewing for them... Send me more asks!!!!!!!

When he pushes into the room, the conversation in it halts. Toto stands at the front. He freezes for a moment before his eyes pin Lewis in the doorframe. Toto rarely looks his age, this morning every single year is visible on his face. Lewis eyes flicker over the room, notes the missing faces.

~~~

The article dropped in an Italian news outlet. From there it spread like wild fire, fans jumping on it to speculate. Too many people around Lewis had sent it to him. He woke up to too many messages, to too many questions and speculations. He had retraced it all back to the original source, read the article through a his browser’s translation tool. After he had tried to call George twice in a row. He hadn’t picked up, so Lewis dressed in a rush to get to the paddock.

~~~

“Come to confess?” The accusation misses a true edge. They all know if Lewis was to blame he would hardly show up like this. That the more likely culprit comes from within. Lewis lets his gaze sweep demonstratively over the room, lingering on the empty seats, noting the missing side of the garage. Even Bono is missing.

Wolff worked with two assistants, and he constantly shifted gears on who was more important, who was doing more, who was the favorite one that week- or day- or hour. The two people currently caught doing that awful duet were Lewis.. And Nico. Lewis has a complicated relationship with Nico. They’d applied for their first internships here together as friends. They’d had quite the fling during their first few years as actual employees. Five years dating, and Lewis was hopelessly in love. Then they got promoted, and everything just sort of fell apart. 

Lewis tries not to be angry about it, but it’s not exactly pleasant. How they started fighting all the time. How Nico broke off their relationship without a second glance. How they can hardly look at each other at work anymore. If Toto noticed, he hasn’t said anything. Maybe he wants them fighting, Lewis always did work harder when he was upset. 

So today was like any other day of Lewis’s miserable life. He woke up to the blaring alarm that meant Toto was calling. He answers it and drags himself out of bed. Rifling through his closet as he balances the phone between his ear and his shoulder. 

“Hello, Toto?” Lewis has to struggle to fight the yawn out of his voice.

“Lewis, yes. Nico won’t be coming in today. Can you pick up those leather pieces from Horner for me?” Lewis thinks that Toto always sounds remarkably detached from everything. He could be asking Lewis to jump off the nearest bridge and he’d sound just like this. Flat, bored, and somehow already annoyed. 

Lewis does not complain. Complaining is no way to keep your job, instead Lewis just agrees, “Of course. I’ll see you in half an hour.” 

“Sooner if possible, Lewis. I’m a very busy man and I’m already dealing with complete nonsense.” The line goes dead after that. 

Lewis has become well trained in getting ready fast. It’s why he showers at night now- despite his preferred routine to do it in the morning. He finds clothes to wear quickly. The wide pants that Toto said were nice, the boxy mesh top, shoes he likes but still look good. He spends a good amount of time with his jewelry. Earrings, rings, and necklaces until he’s a good pound heavier with all the metal. He finishes off with a pair of sunglasses. He looks good. He always tries to look good. It’s important in his line of work. 

He picks up his bag on his way out of the apartment, complete with his keycard, tablet, wallet, charger, spare rings, and sketchpad neatly inside already. He rarely uses the sketchpad anymore, he doesn’t really know why he brings it around. He used to spend every break drawing up new designs, now he usually just spends them running an errand despite it technically being his off time. 

By the time he gets his feet out the door, London is already bustling. Lewis has gotten rather good at weaving through people. Darting across backed up traffic and apologizing when he almost gets hit by a car. He makes it to Horner’s god awful warehouse in record time. He always did have a distaste for the designer, as much as Lewis could appreciate some leather work he didn’t care for the fact it seemed to be the only fabric Horner could work with.

He gets through the door and is greeted by the sight of the man's little protegees. Max hunched over a jacket, painstakingly sewing on bead work with a glare on his face. He doesn’t even look up, just sighs at the sound of the door opening. “Daniel has the stuff.” 

Daniel springs out from behind a desk, nodding. “Lewis! Always good to see ya mate! Got the stuff for your boss! Who does belts better than the bull himself?” 

“Not many,” Lewis forces a smile, “How’ve you been doing.” 

“Good! Yeah, working on my own stuff finally. Me and Max are showing some joint pieces in the Racing Bulls collection, so that’s going to be fun. It’s what Mr. Grump over there is working on actually. It’s not my fault he decided to make a garment that required so much hand beading but his anger has been oddly Me focused. Rudely enough.” Daniel hums. They’d been old friends from college, having both been studying fashion design together. Though Daniel was more of a streetwear man compared to Lewis’s eye for the finer things. 

“You are being an ass about it. I of course am just trying to do my work,” Max pipes up. “Lewis, can you tell your boss he is annoying to talk to on the phone? He tests my patience when he calls yelling about something I have no real part of.”

Lewis wants to laugh in the younger man’s face. Oh yeah, let him just go tell Toto Wolff what for. That’ll go just swell. “I’ll see what I can do. You two have fun.” 

“Send Horner’s best!” Daniel calls, just in time for Lewis to duck out the door before he’s drawn into more nonsensical chatter. It’s not that he doesn’t like talking to them, maybe he’s just jealous. His plan was to do a design internship once upon a time. Gotten a couple responses to his inquiries years back. Then he got the position at Formula, and what’s he going to do? Leave? He can’t quit now. That’d mean Nico won, that he couldn’t handle it and he absolutely can.

It’s another rush through crowded streets, this time with a massive bag in his hands. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to get coffee today too. Nico must’ve been put in that, which means Lewis is the favorite again. Perfect.

He’s barely two steps into the building when Alex comes running over to grab the bags. “Oh you’re a saint, Lewis! What would any of us do without you?” 

Shrivel up and die, hopefully, Lewis thinks but is polite enough not to say. Just giving a smile, “Happy to help.”

“Just a warning, the boss is in an awful mood this morning. Something about nobody being reliable these days? So, don’t die?” Alex hums, giving a sympathetic smile before dashing off to deliver those belts wherever they’re meant to be going. 

Lewis just takes his glasses off and gets in the elevator, steeling his nerves on the way up. He wonders if Nico beat him here, that’d be annoying. Usually, Lewis gets to the office just a few minutes before the blonde man and it’s one of the highlights of his day to see Nico scowl about it.

The elevator opens and Lewis hustle over to the office. He gets to his desk, and sure enough Nico isn’t in the one across from him. He gives himself a point before slowly realizing that none of Nico’s stuff is there either. Not his picture frames or his jewelry holder or any of it. The desk is completely empty.

“Great, Lewis you’re here.” Toto calls, waving him over. “We have to talk about Rosberg.”

“What about him?” Lewis huffs defensively. They hadn’t done anything particularly cruel to each other recently. At least, not enough to make Toto mad at them again. Even then, those chats usually include both of them.

“Nico has resigned from his position at our company. He’s moving away from the city with his fiance and I have no interest in keeping him on remotely. He can edit some dull magazine at home from now on.” Toto waves his hand dismissively. As if it’s all just a nuisance. Lewis is completely caught off guard. Since when was Nico moving? He hadn’t said a word about quitting. Or that he was getting married to that girlfriend of his. What the hell. “So we will be moving on with you in the head assistant position. Congratulations.” 

Congratulations!? What a joke. Is this winning? Is this how things end? Lewis should be happy, he won after all. This doesn’t feel happy. He doesn't feel fulfilled. It’s not like he can say that, not start shouting at Toto about how none of this has been worth it in the slightest. He just smiles, and nods. “Thank you, Toto. I assume Valterri will be filling Nico’s vacant position.” 

“No, Valterri is too slow for me, he’s doing just fine on the basic things.. I have someone new coming in. I trust you can show him the ropes. He’s not exactly… our usual.” Toto hums, flicking opening the mock-up book with a sigh. 

“Of course I can.” Lewis hums, though he’s internally frustrated about the idea of training a new kid to do this whole charade. “Where’s he from?”

“Some farm somewhere nobody cares about. Apparently he’s Albon’s friend, so I took the recommendation. The photography division is one of the few things that doesn’t routinely disappoint me in this building. The boy’s a wannabe… something. Model probably, I didn’t really listen. Smart and nice, so hopefully that’s enough.” Toto shrugs. “Can you have Carlos sent up please? I want to talk about this upcoming shoot.” 

“Of course, sir.” Lewis nods. There’s a moment of silence that he’s long learned means Toto is entirely done with him. So Lewis turns on his heel and walks off.

A lot of wannabe’s end up as assistants, that’s how Nico and Lewis had landed the job afterall, so Lewis can’t be upset by any means. He instead focuses all of his annoyed and confused energy. He dials Carlos, which is always a pleasant chat, and gets him to come up. Then, Lewis tackles Nico’s desk. Soon to be someone else’s. He writes out the essentials. Numbers they dial often, coffee orders, floor numbers and their extensions, and Toto’s number with the note to quickly add it and turn the ringer all the way up. It’s what Sebastian had politely done for Lewis and Nico when they took the job. Lewis was following in his footsteps. 

It’s still crazy, and Lewis has half the mind to call Nico. What would he even do? Laugh in his face, gloat for being better, breakdown crying, beg for him back, or just start screaming at him- probably. No, Lewis should probably block Nico again. He can do it without jeopardizing his job for once. The memories of the times Toto chewed them out for fucking something since they couldn’t talk made Lewis flinch. Yeah, perhaps Lewis should just finally let it all die. How can he now though? After everything, how is he supposed to give up the ghost? What was it all for if he doesn’t feel like a winner for well.. Winning?

He’s interrupted by a voice, reserved and curious, “Hello? I’m assuming you’re Lewis?” 

Lewis looks up to see a tall young man with just gorgeous hair. Falling in perfect swishes that draw even more focus to his blue eyes. Aspiring model alright. “Yes, that’s me. You must be the new assistant.” 

“Yes! George Russell, pleasure to meet you.”  The man- George- says with a smile, his teeth are pretty too. Lewis isn’t entirely caught off guard that he’s cataloging George’s looks. It’s a usual in the fashion world, looks are everything. George ought to be doing the same to him- he’d like George to do the same to him. For regular reasons. 

“Pleasure is mine, let’s get you all set up here. Don’t let anyone lie to you, it’s probably just as if not more scary then it seems. You have me though, I’ll set you up straight.” Lewis hums, flashing a smile that seems to make George less on edge. 

“My hero,” the younger man chuckles, and Lewis can work with that. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It takes a week or so, but George settles in fine. Lewis gets slightly calmer mornings now that George is the one scrambling for coffee in the mornings, and the other benefits just keep stacking up. Lewis gets to do the slightly more interesting stuff now. Sit in to take notes for meetings, he gets to help out at more events, he gets to handle the important things. It’s nice, but he no longer feels like it’s a victory to get the good jobs. They’re just his jobs now, and George is doing the rest. 

It’s a regular comedy to see the newest member of the Formula team stumbling over their feet for the first few weeks. It gives everyone someone to laugh about. George getting absolutely grilled for getting Toto’s coffee order wrong was a hit, Valterri put it up on the fridge for “Worst of the Week” (Under Lewis’s promotions for Best, funnily enough). There was also just a general air of having no idea what the fuck was happening that seemed to surround George, but he learned quick. Lewis had to respect that. 

It’s all just, flat. Lewis is doing a lot, he’s still always running an insane errand or doing the work of five people, but it’s not a game any more. There’s no cat and mouse chase, no push and pull, nothing to entertain him. George is just.. Nice to Lewis. Listens to him without complaining. Always happy to help. It’s not right, but it’s an awfully weird thing to complain about. 

It’s on a random Thursday that things seem to shift a bit. It had started like any other. Lewis woke up, got dressed, and made it to the office without a single phone call for once. He got in just in time to see George rushing in with a coffee tray in hand, phone pressed to his ear, and smiling nervously at Lewis and mouthing ‘Hello’. Yeah, Lewis doesn’t miss that so much. 

The newest edition of Formula is supposed to go to print at the end of the week, so it’s been a terribly stressful past few days for all of them. Thursday though, everything really should be done. Lewis really doesn’t have to do much. 

“Lewis, red or pink?” Toto asks, exasperated by the litany of stylists in front of him in the office.

Lewis takes a quick look at the belts, pinned against a decently cute black dress with a subtle polka dot pattern. “Pink, the red looks like a lady bug.” 

“Nico?” Toto asks- because he’s used to having two competent voices in the room. Lewis has to cough to make George realize that he’s actually who Toto meant. 

The boy jolts before just nodding, “Uhm, yeah. What Lewis said. I like the pink.” There’s a moment of silence when George looks about ready to melt into the floor until Toto nods and turns away. Lewis can’t help but chuckle at the sigh of relief the man lets out. 

“It’s not such a big deal to have an opinion, you know?” Lewis questions, raising a brow. 

“It is!” George defends, staring at Lewis as if he just suggested that George was an elephant, “What if I tell him the wrong thing and he fires me and blacklists me forever. I’m ruined the day he asks me something first, Lewis. Ruined.” 

“You’ll be fine, pretty boy. Just don’t speak unless spoken to,” Lewis smiles, and he quietly delights in how he makes George’s cheeks go pink. George just focuses back on whatever emails he was trying to send. Lewis simply watches the stylists finish up. He thinks that he could make better choices in half the time it takes them. He thinks he could make clothes that look better than the ones Toto is currently sorting through. He never follows up on those thoughts though, just watches and wants. 

“Lewis, Nico.. er. George. You two can take lunch now. While you do, go down to photography and tell them I need the final edits of Scuderia’s newest shoot by three or I am going to fire all of them.” Toto calls from his office, and they both get up to go. 

It’s a short walk down to the photography floor, George spends most of it swiping through his phone to see where he can get food nearby and frowning at the not so pleasant prices. Lewis has long learned to pack his own lunch, he’s been going strong on salad most days of the week. He can empathize with the struggle though, he’d been newly hired and broke once too. 

They get down to the photography studios and Alex comes running over, stealing his friend away into a hug. “George! Hi! Why’re you down here? Is Toto mad at us again? Can he not be?” 

“Just wants the photos finished by 3,” George explains, muffled by the wool coat his face is stuffed in. 

“Or you're fired, forgot the motivating bit there Russell.” Lewis continues, giving a little wave that makes Alex finally release his coworker. 

“Right, of course. It’s not like we’ve only had a day to edit them! Gosh, I should probably get back to work then. Oh but George, really do consider what I asked. Okay? Love you two, bye.” Alex smiles, rubbing his friend’s shoulder and giving Lewis a wave before disappearing back to whatever cubicle he was editing in. 

George just sighs, rubbing the back on his neck. “Uhm, sorry. We’ve been friends since we were little.” 

“Why’re you apologizing, it’s sweet.” Lewis shrugs, “Well I’m going to go grab lunch from the break room, you good?” 

“Yeah yeah, go for it. I’m just lamenting my paycheck slipping away,” George sighs, starting to turn away. 

“I brought a salad. Never eat the whole thing, you’re welcome to join me?” Lewis isn’t really sure why he offers. He just sees George turning away and is overcome by the fact he doesn’t want him to leave. He wants to stay, and talk, and get to know him enough that maybe he’ll hug him like he hugs Alex eventually. He doesn’t know why. He just wants George to stay. 

It catches the blue eyed boy by surprise, and he stares at Lewis for a moment. “Really? Sure! If I’m not intruding.” He finally answers, smiling in a way that makes his eyes scrunch. 

“I invited you, didn’t I?” Lewis shrugs, and just waves for George to follow. 

They don’t have long to eat, so much of their shared lunch break is spent in silence. Lewis is swiping through messages on his phone for the most part while George fields at least 4 separate calls. It’s the usual bustle of being an assistant. Neither of them get called back early by Toto though, so a small win has to be taken here and there. 

Lewis is a creature of curiosity though, and his head spins watching George. He wants to ask a thousand questions, George seems to type to willingly answer them all. Lewis doesn’t really want to pry, but he’ll ask one, maybe two. He’s just curious. “What was Alex talking about when he asked you to consider something?” 

George blinks in surprise, quickly swallowing the lettuce he was chewing on. “Oh nothing really. He wants to practice shooting models and stuff. Asked me to pose for him. I’m just hesitant because I feel like it’s not good practice, you know? I’m not a model by any means yet. He has friends who are already models! Lando works, he should ask him.” George explains. Lewis knows of Lando, the Model that Zak had scouted. He’s got a couple shots in the newest issue- if Toto didn’t cut them in a recent fit of rage. He’s good looking- models tend to be- but he’s not quite George. There's no question to Lewis. Of course Alex would ask him, anybody with a camera would want to take a photo of George. Lewis could think of a thousand draft sketches he’d dress him in. He’s just gorgeous. 

“Well that doesn’t sound like nothing. You should do it, George, really. Who knows when your big chance will come through, it’ll be practice for you both.” Lewis nudges George’s shoulder as he speaks. “Do it.” 

George pauses, before that blush crawls up his cheeks again and he nods. “Well alright then, I will.” 

Their lunch ends when Toto calls George and the boy is sent running across the city to go get flower arrangements that were ordered for Toto’s wife. That left Lewis alone back up at his desk, and for once he had very little to really do. He did something he hadn’t done in a long time to fill the gap in his schedule, he got out his sketchbook. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The new bout of creative inspiration hits in full force, and for the first time in years Lewis wants to create. He flirts with the idea of heading to a fabric store after work, and he finally dusts off his sewing machine from where it’s been hiding in the corner of his room. It’s nice, he starts to feel a bit more fulfilled. It’s still weird, without Nico, but Lewis pushes on. George also seems to settle in more, that’s what happens after your first issue rolls out smoothly. The May issue is always one of Lewis’s favorites, and now it’s all in on summer time for June. Which means Lewis is going to be calling a lot of swim suit brands for a while. 

George seems to have beat Lewis to the office this particular day, already on the phone and leaning on his desk. “No, that’s not what I asked. Mr. Wolff wants samples by tomorrow… Obviously not if I’m asking you to send them. Well then maybe your work just won’t be in the magazine! I can come pick them up for god's sake! Fine!” The man slams the phone down  before turning to Lewis. “Some people!” 

“Yeah, some people. Who was that?” Lewis hums, picking up the coffee already waiting on his desk. 

“Leclerc recommended a brand, and obviously I listened to him because Toto liked the idea. But now, Sauber is undergoing rebranding for the umpteenth time and it took me a while to find the right number. And I’m getting push back because I asked for samples with a day's notice, which isn’t my fault mind you,” George sighs, flicking a single stay hair back on his head. “I was *going* to enjoy our morning off because Toto is getting in late tomorrow, but I guess not.” 

“No no, you should enjoy your morning. Send me the address I can get the stuff,” Lewis offers, feeling a deep satisfaction of the relief that washes over George’s face. 

“If you don’t mind, I'd really appreciate it. I promised Alex I’d give him the hour and I’d hate to go back on my word.” George smiles. “You really are a life saver, I see why everyone around here talks about you as if you’re a saint.” 

That makes Lewis pause a moment. He wasn’t unaware of his reputation, that would be dense of him. He’s a doer around here. He never backs away from whatever insane feat he’s been asked to pull off. He’d like to say that he’s just a hard worker. He just wants to get things done well. The ugly truth seems to be baring its head more often nowadays. That Lewis has simply sunk his entire life into this place, his Entire Life. Not into what he loved, not into design or art. Into Formula, into Toto Wolff’s brand. He doesn’t like to think about it too much. It’s all worth it in the end, it has to be. 

“I expect to see whatever Alex shoots, as compensation for my time,” Lewis waves off the compliment. 

“Oh! I have a couple of them here.” George circles over to Lewis’s desk, swiping through his texts with the photographer to get to a collection of images. It’s just George sitting on presumably Alex’s fire escape outside his apartment, in a dress shirt and slacks. It’s simple, amature, and still George looks divine. “We barely got off before sunset but managed to snag a couple. Alex was happy so I’m happy. Whatever helps his portfolio.” 

“These are great, George. You look good.” Lewis compliments, “You should send me some when Alex finishes editing. You know, it’d make for good references.” 

“Refrences?” George questions.

“Oh- I draw. You know. Just, it might give me ideas is all.” Lewis starts, and for once he’s the one with the face getting hot. Luckily- or probably unluckily- they’re both cut off by shouting from Toto’s office. 

“I don’t pay you two to chatter! You’ve got emails to be going through and calls to be made. Focus up!” He barks, and George skitters back to his desk as Lewis sighs. Enough fun for the day it seems. 

Lewis slogs through work, Fashion week is in the end of June afterall and he’s just starting to get the schedule together for all that. He ferries some files between the floors. He gets a call on his personal cell, and smiles at the name.

“Charles! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Lewis answers, getting up to walk while he talks, leaving George staring curiously after him as he walks off.

“Lewis, my friend. I am calling for non Formula related reasons today,” the man’s voice is light and happy sounding. Charles had really been hitting his stride as a designer with support from Scuderia, his first collection- CL16- is set to debut sooner than later. Lewis is nothing but proud of the man. 

“That’s new, what can I do for you then?” 

“I have an opportunity for you! Fred asked me to get another designer for our annual New Designer showcase, you know the one. It’s coming up in a couple months so I knew I shouldn’t wait to ask. Of course I am showing my collection, along with Bearman and Beganovic. We need a fourth, and I just realized you haven’t done a runway since your graduation like a billion years ago,” Charles explains. “So think about it. You were really very good, I looked back on your old Grad show. And that one who assisted Button on. Fred approves, just get back to me when you can, yeah? You’re a busy man, I won't keep you.” 

“Wait what-” Lewis tries, but the line is already being hung up by the time he says it. 

Design again? Seriously try to make it. After years of being at Formula it sounds absurd. He wants to, of course he wants to. Is he even good at it anymore? He mostly just sews up his own clothes nowadays. It’s weird, and he should probably wait to deal with all this. He was at work, he should focus on that

Except, he just can't find it in him to really do much. For once, he doesn’t really care. Eventually, he just sits back at his desk. Nothing urgent needs to be done, everything he could do requires talking to Toto, who’s on the phone.

He reaches for his sketches once more. Flipping through some things. He hasn’t lost it. A couple of them are fresh and interesting enough that they could walk. If he really committed to this. 

The ones he drew after talking to George are the best. Those elegant masculine forms, the swirly ruffles, the long lines of it all. Maybe it’s worth a shot. 

“Hamilton! My office.” Toto shouts, and Lewis knows when to get off his ass. 

Toto is sitting at that glass desk of his, swiping through things on his tablet while he waits for Lewis. He spares a look up before he sighs and sets his things aside. “What do I pay you to do?” The man questions, leveling a look at Lewis that is one second away from a glare.

“Be your assistant.” Lewis answers, concerned about where this is going. 

“Yes. Now, I am not a strict man-” Lie. “-and I have always been patient with you-” Lie. “-but it concerns me that you’re unfocused recently. Ever since Rosberg left, I expected a renewed vigor from you Lewis. I’m not calling you lazy-” Lie. “ -but you’ve ought to step it up. George shouldn’t be doing more than you. I don’t overload my new assistants-” Lie. “-so I need you to act like how you always do. We all love you for a reason Lewis, so let's put that tacky little sketch book of yours away until you’re off company time. Yeah?” Toto explains, frowning a little as he talks. 

Lewis feels that awful pit in his stomach. That dread welling up in him. The same feeling from when Nico quit, from when he was told to stay home from fashion week in 2016, from when he turned down his first offer to do a runway. He just swallows hard, and nods. “Of course, apologies.” 

“You’re excused.” Toto sighs. Waving him away. “And have George deliver me the book tonight. I don’t want to see you.” 

“Yes sir.” 

Lewis walks back out to his desk. The question that keeps coming back gnaws at him. Is it worth it? Is any of this worth it? 

“Lewis?” George asks softly, and Lewis remembers his audience and grits his teeth. He’s a well oiled machine, he can get over this. 

“All good, George. Can you get me a copy of Horner’s, Vasseur's, and Brown’s schedules for Paris?” 

“Of course!” 

And just like that, back to work. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Lewis and Nico’s favorite argument spot had always been the roof of the Formula building. They’d be able to shout and jab at each other without the risk of anyone overhearing. It was also their favorite spot to hide away and make out once upon a time too. So, a lot of mixed emotions were coursing through Lewis when he got up there again. 

Days had passed, and Charles needed an answer, and there's no way to do both. As crazy as Lewis could be, he wasn't stupid. So Lewis was stuck, just feeling absolutely empty and lost. If he says yes, it’s practically years of his life wasted. Sure, he has a couple contacts but that’s about it. If he says no, if he stays, what’s he doing? Hoping for promotions that probably aren’t coming? It should be easy, but it isn’t. 

He wishes he was 10 years younger and naive again. Having fun, enjoying the competition of Nico and the newness of the industry. It was easier, maybe more unhealthy, but easier. He could throw his life away without questioning it back then. Spend the ridiculous hours without feeling bothered. Nowadays, he’s lost the rose colored glasses.

The city keeps running round underneath him. Cars scurry past, people walking, all with their own little lives. It’s serene, to just be completely unknown for a little while

“Valterri said you’d be up here.” A voice hums, and Lewis turns around to see George, walking over to the ledge with him. Summer was fast approaching, but the nighttime winds made the taller man shiver, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You’ve been.. Off.” 

“That obvious?” Lewis chuckles, shaking his head. “Just.. weighing some options, is all.” 

“I can lend an ear, if you want.” George offers, shuffling a bit closer.

Lewis sighs, nodding. “Hypothetically, you’re offered a gig to model. It’s a breakthrough thing, scouts will be there, people willing to work with you, people willing to start your career. But you have to give up your life. Things you know, people you know, and you’re gonna burn some massive bridges. What would you do?” 

George is quiet for a bit, mulling it over. “Depends, I guess. Is the life I have worth staying for, and is the dream worth fighting for?” 

“Yes.. it’s worth it. It’s everything I want,” Lewis sighs, “And I don’t see why I’m staying here anymore.” 

“Seems simple then,” George says. He smiles at Lewis, warm and sweet and too good for Lewis. 

“I’d miss the people though, the good ones.” Lewis hums, reaching a tentative arm to George’s shoulders and pulling him in a bit closer. “You’d die here without me, isn’t that what you said?” 

“Ruined, was my exact terminology.” George giggles, those gorgeous eyes scrunching up. “You’re going to design for the Scuderia New Designer show, right?” 

That caught Lewis off guard, he hasn’t told anybody about that. He’d debated it, instinctively dialed Nico’s number before being reminded that the man was blocked and deciding to keep it all to himself. “Yes.. who told you?” 

“Well Charles told Ollie. And Ollie is dating Kimi so Kimi knows. Kimi is in school to be an MUA and I’m his usual model, so he told me.” George shrugs. “I’m good at getting to know things when I want to. I wanted to know why you were upset.” 

“Bravo,” Lewis huffs, squeezing the man tighter, “Yes, I’m going to design again.”

“Won’t have to miss some people if you still work with them,” George proposes, though it’s quieter this time. Lewis pauses, and then he lets himself go, and lets himself want.

“True I’d need a model, or better yet a muse. Though timely, good with schedules and odd requests. And he couldn’t be boring to work with. And he’d absolutely have to drop dead gorgeous. I mean an absolute stunner. Blue eyes, brown hair, the works. Know anybody?” Lewis teases.

“Oh I don’t know about all that-” George flounders, waving his hands in front of his face. “I’m not sure if I’m quite what you want.”

Lewis just leans in closer. “Too bad, I already picked.” He hums, pressing his lips to George’s cheek. “Come over tomorrow, I’ll get your measurements.” 

“Wow, take me to dinner first,” George huffs. “I’ll clear my schedule, I suppose.” 

“Whatever you want, George.” Lewis smiles, looking out at the skyline once more, this time just with a man in his arms and everything settles into place. “The world’s ours. And we’re going to get out of this godforsaken magazine.” 

“Is it worth it?” George asks softly, leaning his head down just a tad. “Yeah… it’s all worth it.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈