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blorbocedes · 1 year

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Goldilocks: can we talk?

Lewis has been waiting for this text since he went jogging in the morning. His new friends would clown on him for going back, they don't get it, why Lewis goes back every time. Lewis just mumbles, 'That's my best friend, man.'

Lewis waits outside Nico's apartment complex, the guards all know him -- let him in easily, and the concierge rings up the elevator for him.

"Lewis," Nico breathes, opening the door. His hair is artfully tousled, and his white linen shirt is unbuttoned obscenely low, barefeet on his marble floors. "I didn't think you'd come."

When have I ever not? Lewis thinks, sullenly. Nico calls, and Lewis comes -- that's how they work.

"Man, you can't pull that shit that you did--" Lewis brings up the previous night but is interrupted by Nico.

"I went too far, I agree." Nico makes an approximation of looking contrite, failing. He curls up like a cat on the leather sofa, giving Lewis no choice but to sit beside him.

Nico had called, distraught, voice high pitched and whining -- a million miles an hour, and no substance abuse that caused it. How much he hates his university, he hates his professors, something about a grading dispute that Lewis couldn't be arsed to follow, then begging him to come over.

Lewis, who'd been out drinking with his friends, a free week between races, was jostled by them asking who called, if it was his ~girlfriend~ they'd hollered.

"It's just --" Lewis paused, "A buddy of mine. Fuck off." He'd shoved them off, all of them on whiskey and rum on Lewis' card.

"A buddy." Nico's voice had turned ice cold, and even tipsy Lewis knew this would blow up in his face, way bigger than it needs to be.

Sure enough, Nico had hissed, "No one cares if you're gay in Monaco, Lewis. Those friends of yours only care you're a bigshot racing driver paying for their crap."

The Nico in front of him has none of that nasty snarl to his voice, he's looking at Lewis through those disarming blue-green eyes all sincere. It must be the weekend, Lewis realises in a stray thought that isn't admiring how beautiful Nico is. Nico's too busy with classes to meet otherwise. Lewis' life is split into race weekends and not. Days of the week all blur together when it's not a Thursday - Sunday.

"I have a present for you." Nico produces a thin box from behind him, tied in a silk bow.

Lewis raises his eyebrow at him, skeptic. "You have a complete freak out on me and now you've got a present?"

Nico's mouth twists in displeasure, those catlike eyes narrowing. "I did not have a mental breakdown. I was just testing you. And I went too far. It wasn't productive of me."

Sure, whatever you say. Lewis refuses the urge to roll his eyes.

Nico holds the gift box out insistently. "Just open it. I promise you'll like it."

Lewis gives in, curiosity getting the better of him. Nico watches him open with some distant satisfaction as Lewis stops when he recognises it.

It's a box of chocolates, a box of chocolates from his hometown shop -- the smell immediately brings him back to walking down to school with dad. It had been a special confectionary shop, the most decadent chocolate Lewis has had in his life back then. And they'd shut down their store years ago.

"How did you--" Lewis asks in awe, biting into one and it tastes exactly like how he remembers it. Like biting into a memory. Rich, delicious, sweet.

"It wasn't hard," Nico says casually in a tone that implies it was hard, "I found the son on LinkedIn, got a good enough deal for ol' dad's recipe. Easy, really. Mostly customs was a bitch, you'd think I was buying a bomb."

"Nico, this is crazy, man." Lewis is oddly touched. It is very much like Nico to throw money at a problem until it goes away, but it's more that Nico remembered and in his own way, this was him trying. Lewis is so taken aback by the gesture, he doesn't consider this probably took Nico months to arrange, and not the previous night's outburst.

But Lewis goes a little stupid when Nico climbs on his lap, legs on either side, taking his fingers and making a show of licking them clean, sucking down on them. He sets the box aside, before fixing his attention on Lewis, the pale expanse of his bare chest and collarbone begging to be bitten and marked into.

"Let me make it up to you, Mr. Race Winner." Nico smiles, grinding down on him, and this is the part Lewis can't explain to his friends -- why he always goes back. No one else is as terrible and demanding and drives Lewis absolutely mad. There is no one else who compares.

Lewis does note that Nico does not apologize once. He can't really bring himself to care.

inspired by this post

#toxic brocedes #Goldilocks au #nico goes to university and lewis moves to monaco in 2008 au #my fics #f1 rpf #came to me in a dream fully formed etc #Goldilocks is my favourite nico nickname and it's one Lewis has actually called him irl #bpd pussy goes hard #let me know what you think 🥺 unless it's mean then don't let me know 😔#wanted to capture the contrast of . very mundane student woes versus a racing driver the same age does not have a concept of or care about #things like routine and assignment submissions etc

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