Chapter Text
The internet never forgets, they said. And how true is that statement? Every single tweet, photo and video are saved in the depths of the thing we call, the cloud. Nothing is missed. More when you are somehow a little bit famous, the so called fans follow every single movement you made, they know the way you walk, the mannerism you make when anxious or angry, they show the world the changes of styles throughout the years of your life, even when you believe that you weren't important back then. They have your photos and videos of infancy, they can make you look as the greatest in a matter of seconds. Or make your life a living hell.
So why did you believe that using a mask, wearing sunglasses, hiding your face and changing your voice with an accent was going to protect you?
You had the opportunity to not create your socials, to make Louis private so Logan could live. But no. You wanted a double life. You desired the luxurious life of a kid who grew up between wealth and fame, who was cherished just like a prince, but you also wanted to be discreet, you feared the world’s reaction, and decided to hide.
You didn’t do a good job, though.
You hurt far more people than the ones that got away with your decisions.
That’s what you wanted all along? To perturb the everyday life of the people you affirm to love? Your parents and grandparents are having sleepless nights just to watch your dreams, to care for you, your uncles are being scrutinized by every single media and reporter they encounter, the friends you used to have don't know who you are, they feel robbed, used… And the man you love? He hasn’t been the same since that day and you know it, and even though you send him a letter with your fucking excuses, using your uncle to deliver it for you, as if that piece of paper would spare your sins, he had never recover from your depart, you ruined the last part of his career by being selfish.
How naive you have been.
You haven’t even opened any of your socials, knowing that the constant ring and buzz from it are millions of people calling you out of your lies. They know who you are, they know what you had donde, not only fucking up the whole paddock, but also showing how bad of a driver you were, how you are a loss of time and effort, a waste of talent, money, fame and family. But at least you did something right, no? Your departure gave that argentine omega the opportunity to succeed, to show what it is to really ride a car, right? He clearly showed that he deserved better the new car with upgrades more than you, he more deserved the points, he deserved more those little talks and moments with your godfather and uncles more than you, his place in the grid is more cherished than yours.
He’s a better driver.
He’s a better teammate.
He’s a better omega.
He’ll be a better partner.
He is better.
Oh come on, don’t start with your act, those whimpers and tears aren’t even real, you aren’t convincing anyone that this situation hurted you. No one will ever agree with you that you were innocent, anyone will ever believe you again after lying to their faces for more than ten years, and not only you, your family too, or you think that some champion or some reporters or a so-called activist will ever be credible when they support a fake persona? Don’t be so stupid. And stop fucking crying, you are not a kid anymore, not even your sisters cried that way when they were babies, you are just overwhelmed by the consequences of your actions. Cut the act, you aren’t sorry.
Not even for lying you are worthy of.
You aren’t worth the effort.
You useless driver wanna be.
You undesirable omega.
What? You don’t like being called that? What did you expect? Call you pretty? Beautiful? Gracious? Don’t make me laugh, did you really think that you got the good genes of Nico Button-Rosberg? You may have his eyes and hair but come on, too tall to fit into the arms of your beloved alpha, too muscled up to be wanted by some sort of CEO, too stupid for anyone with a degree in hands. Or haven’t you noticed those little love handles that you developed those last months? Or the scars in your face from some pimples you had? Or those tiger marks in your hips and thighs? And you still believed that you were nice, did you think that those things were beautiful? That someone will look at them and want to bang you? Not even Oscar when he loved you would react with pure passion, he’ll never think about you as someone beautiful, maybe cute, but not enough to be desired.
Maybe you should use some of the money you earned while in Williams or your family’s to fix up your mistakes. Maybe some filler here, a little bit of botox there were your smile wrinkles are visible, maybe pass the scalpel through out your skin, some plastic to give form to your body, you could also start using those anti-age creams, –I heard that using a guasha help to sculpt a little bit your face–, or start going to pilates so at least someone could look at you without wincing, and by the time you used all of this well, maybe your neck be skinnier, your body will be formed, your face and skin smoother, you’ll have curves.
Yes, look at you.
Observe those imperfections in the reflection of your mirror from the commodity of your bed. What do you see? Tell us honey, the media never fails, the mirror never lies. There, you see that mole? It can be erased with a laser or concealer, or maybe you could smile more, but you’ll end up wrinkled, and who wants a partner like that? The minimum you can make is at least look appetizing. Maybe you should get up and do some exercise, you clearly need it. And it is not me who said it, the whole world knows it, but those woke people cancel every single comment that adverts the reality, so everyone is going to say that you are beautiful as yourself.
They’ll say love yourself.
They’ll show you products to appeal better.
They’ll use you.
They’ll lie to you.
Just like you.
Oh no, you are crying all over again, grow a pair man, this is just us commenting on reality. If you can’t take some criticism you should start opening that door of your parents yacht and go-
— Loulou? Are you there?.
A little blonde head appeared from the door, Alaïa was there, watching her older brother crying in silence, his pajamas wrinkled and disheveled, his hands clutching and harming his own arms. The blue eyes of Louis were completely lost in the view of the mirror of his room, sitting on the mattress, looking directly at his reflection, his lips trembling as his nails kept pressing his skin, leaving marks on the way. His scent was more than rotten, it exclaimed sadness, anger and anxiety, it was clear why the omega had his terrace door open but the room door closed. The girl winced at the smell, but no matter what, she automatically ran to her brother's side, climbing the bed to tightly hug the crying man, hushing him in German, just like she has seen their papa do.
No response.
— Lou, can you hear me? Lou! PAPA! DAD! Come, bitte !
Many footsteps were audible as both retired drivers barged into the room, their looks and scents revealing their state of mind. They are only covered by some nightgowns and robes, hairs as a bird nest, no make up to fix their looks, and completely barefoot. The reaction was immediate as soon as they took a look of the state their oldest was. Jenson took in his hands Louis’, clutching them with force, as he tried to make his kid regain a little bit of consciousness. Meanwhile, Nico took Alaïa in his arms, commanding her to go to her room, to not see her older brother like that, that she didn’t deserve to watch his brother destroy himself from the inside. Neverminde, the girl refused, going off from the embrace of her papa to be by the side of Louis, yelling that he needs her, that Louis has been there for her and Naila since their birth so it was unfair to him to not be there for him too.
The older German was speechless as the little girl approached the bed again, placing herself in the lap of her brother, not giving a single look to his dad who was still trying to talk to Louis with their hands intertwined. Simply, hugging the torso of Louis, letting some of her milky scent cover the rotten vanilla with cinnamon. Nico sighed as he exited the room, Jenson made a confused noise as his mate disappeared from the picture, though that sentiment didn’t last, the omega walked in minutes later with another body in his arms, Naila was still asleep as the mess continued. Seeing her sister there made Alaïa move to make space for her, the only alpha in the room looked up for his husband, asking in silence about the next steps, the answer was clear. Let them be, let them calm by themselves. So he did that, he got up while putting Louis hands over the duvet, far from his now scarred arms, using all of his strength to move his son’s body into a better position on the mattress, tucking him and Alaïa for then help Nico to accommodate his other girl near Louis, beside her other sister.
After all of that, the change was clear, Louis was asleep, with tear tracks on his cheeks, but his scent was no longer toxic, and both girls were sleeping too, embracing the moment in their brother's bed. The only sound that could be heard was their sighs, breaths and the ocean wind from the terrace of Louis’ bedroom. Both men looked at each other, both clearly exhausted, in silence they let their kids rest while they walked to the cozy living room of their yacht. They seated together, pressing their bodies close, tangling their limbs so they couldn’t know where the other body begins, the silence was too much, the sound of the waves were their only companion, the couple was zoned out, too deep in their thoughts to seek the other for peace.
— What are we doing wrong, Jen?.
The voice of Nico was just a whisper, cracked by the emotions of the last minutes. He looked up for his husband, blinking hard to suppress the tears that tried to escape from his eyes. He didn’t understand, they have tried all, and still it felt like if they are losing their boy day by day, no matter how they managed all the mess of F1, the light from their little pup eyes have faded with each new post from the F1 socials, with each comment from stupid and ignorant assholes in the internet. They have changed the smiling pup they raised, what happened to the beaming pup that always played pranks on them? To the little kid that loved to be lifted in his dad’s arms? Who pleaded too many times for a little brother or sister and was delighted when he received two? To the empathetic omega that always listened to others, who loved to learn about his family love stories, dreaming to tell to his own pups in the future the love story he had? He has been slipping from their grasp since then.
How much have they not noticed? Since when they have been losing their pup? Nico couldn’t make it, but he had seen the look that Louis had before in him, back in 2016, when he tried to end it all, when the comments of his body and worth make him starve, when he believed that Jenson had found a new omega to make a family with. He can’t let his pup live the same hell he had to live, not when Louis still have them, when he is a call away for Mick and his boyfriends be there for him, to remind him his worth, something that he didn’t had the luxury to do in the middle of what they call the silver war. He wishes that he could freeze the time, to go back to the good times, when all they cared about was who was Lou’s favorite uncle or the loser that was going to pay for their dinners. Though this isn’t about him, he had played all of his cards already… Louis can still play, he can at least figure out a new path or rebuild some relations, there’s time to fix the mistakes of the past. But how?
— I don’t know, darling… I wish I knew.
Jenson looked down to his mate, a knowing look in his eyes, he’s aware of the insecurities that are consuming his child and mate brains, and it hurts to know that he can only soothe one of them. That, the time is the real villain here, he can’t take his boy in his arms and sing a lullaby to him so he can dream safe and sound as he did when he was eight, there’s no more dinner dates with his pup so he can believe that he will never go away from him just what he used to do in 2009, because this time… It’s not the Brit that could go away, it's Louis. He may not try to do it, but the intention is there, the fatigue is already showing from his moves, their meals, his words. Everything is there and they can’t do anything more, they’ve tried everything, but this wound is beyond them.
He kissed Nico’s temple, letting their tears fall freely.
Parents shouldn’t be the ones to see their child die, friends should live a long happy life beside their friends, lovers shouldn’t live separated by death. He’s supposed to live long, to have kids, to go gray smoothly, to smile and have little wrinkles that express the happiness of a life well lived. What they can do to stop his brain to fuck all the things that he have ever loved? How can they shut the intrusive thoughts from his mind? People already say that they overprotected him all his life, that he should move out and live without them, but if they let that happen… What type of call will they receive? From the hospital? From a psychiatric center? From the police? He can process to give his son away to a man that respects him, that cherishes the ground he steps in, –just like he does with Nico, as Keke does with Sina and so on–, but he can’t give his pup to the cold hand of death.
Not before, when he was just a kid playing between celebrities.
Not then, when he decided the same dangerous career of the family.
Not now, when he is just a floor up with his brain as his enemy.
Not after, when the time makes his thing and his husband and him can’t keep the pace of life.
— I don’t think it is a good idea to go together to Las Vegas, it could cause another reaction… We should stay here, maybe visit your family, we could let the kids be watched by my mother or Vivi if Sky Sports needs us.
The alpha sighed, moving in the little embrace of his mate to look eye to eye. — We’ll just slow the process then, love, no matter what we do he’ll have to confront them.
Nico didn’t agree, shocking his head. — No, he doesn’t need more pain, the media will eat him alive if he appears with us in Las Vegas, you saw how the other reporters treated you in Austin, if that’s with you, with me… How would they treat him?.
— We already promised him that he would be by our side during the race, we aren’t backing up, Ni, if something happens we will take the same actions that we did in Monza, we will continue by his side, not letting him down nor hiding him from the cameras… If t-they want to talk to him, he has the right to accept or not a chat, we will only interfere if needed.
Another minute of silence was the answer he had. So he took with one hand the face of his husband, caressing with his thumb the cheek of the omega, looking at him, only him, watching for what appears to be a millennia the eyes of the man he loves, noticing for the first time the changes in his beloved mate. How his skin is no longer that smooth, rather a bit more tanned than pale, his hair is thinner but still glowing, his cheeks seems fuller and his jaw less defined. He notices the crow’s feet adorning his eyes are deeper, that his eyes still sky-blue are a bit more small, some of his moles have faded, and his lips once were fuller. But it’s still his mate, and he knows that he has changed too, –with him, beside him–, more wrinkles in his forehead and between the eyebrows, some weight in his low stomach, his hair shorter and with some entrances. Oh how much he wishes his pups have the same luxury to be like this, to grow old with a loving partner, that at some point they’d lose track of time by the joy of sharing your life with them.
— W-what if they tore him apart? —. The smell of cinnamon and oranges was yet not distressed but preoccupied, showing the doubt of Nico in Jenson’s decision, so the alpha decided to put an end, letting the black tea scent cover the other, just like their bodies were arranged in that sofa of the living room of the first floor of a yacht that it is placed in the middle of the mediterranean sea, few weeks away from the next race, from the next interview and reportage for Sky Sports, from the scrutiny of the F1 world.
— Then we will put the pieces together once again.
And that was the final resolve.
-
Las Vegas always carried a loud and luxurious ambiance to anyone who ever entered the paddock or walked around the surrounding area. Too many people, fireworks, reporters everywhere, fans and celebrities, cameras catching every single mistake they’ve made, some of them recording every single outfit the drivers and celebrities wore. Like, it was too much until a point. And anyone could agree with that, also, some drivers of the current grid if they had the opportunity would quit this or Qatar circuit in less than a blink, he would do that too, sincerely.
But life isn't perfect and the Las Vegas race week is already starting.
From the McLaren garage everything seemed normal, some debriefs here and there, small talks with engineers for the race, talking about the tires changes and some predictions about how this grand prix would end. Nothing too overwhelming since the paddock already did that job. Though, he could sense that something would happen, maybe his teammate will cut Max’s possibilities of a fourth championship? He still holds the belief that the Dutch alpha could surpass the points since Brazilwas a good race for him, but that RedBull seemed… Dull, not that he could judge by his last standings since Austin, but a man can dream.
Speaking of the devil, the other four drivers of the top 5 championship standings decided it would be a good decision to linger in the McLaren garage, probably they had some sort of permission by being the mate of their first driver, the actual champion on the standings and Ferrari’s golden boy, but who knows. The Aussie smiled at them, clearly tired, he just was hoping to skip until friday to not to engage to another reporter questioning and just do his job. Lando let go his grip on Carlos’ waist to pat his teammate's shoulder, a shiteating grin plastered on his face.
— Hey mate, looking fresh, long week?.
Oscar scuffed, he clearly hasn't looked fresh in a while. — Just the usual, ready to not let Max pass or what?.
As the Brit tried to answer, a loud laugh cutted him. The RedBull driver walked to them with a wild smile on his face, making himself a space next to them. — You really think he can beat me? Your car might be almost illegal but there's no reason to lie, mate.
— A little hypocritical from you, Max, 2023 wasn't the most legal either, remember?.
— Desolé, mon amour , Carlos is right there… But look at the bright part, if Max have his fourth championship that implies that we will have until 2030 or 2031 to at least win a title in between —. Charles walked to them while saying his little prediction, deciding to step side to side with his teammate, cracking a smirk from the Spanish omega.
— In a fucking Williams? Cabrón , you have more faith than tifosi.
The single comment made everyone laugh, some of the engineers turned to see, some of them even darted some dirty looks by the loud noise they were making. They paid no attention to that, the season was almost over and they needed at least to take a breath from all the things happening in the last months. In exchange, they should be relieved that he and Carlos haven't got into a fight or made any snarky remarks. Though, since that, the next Williams driver seemed more amicable with him, maybe feeling pity but Oscar’s not going to dive in that theory, at least he’s getting along with his teammate mate.
— Wait, schatje, why are you implying that I’m not going to accomplish another title?.
The smirk on Charles' face really amused the Aussie, waiting for the response of the Monegasque.
— Well babe, that happened to RedBull after Seb’s fourth win, the same pattern, and looking at the McLaren, maybe it will be a new papaya’s era.
Neither Oscar nor Lando couldn’t keep a straight face after the comment, watching closely how the dutchman's face turned to disbelief by the words of his mate and fiancé. His mouth was even gaping, no words from it, just the exact representation of shock. And to top it off? Charles was just smiling as innocently as he could.
— Seb’s gonna kill you the moment he learns that you say that, Cha.
Charles only shrugged. — See if he believes you, amore .
No amount of PR training, thirst traps, merch and cute video that Ferrari’s social account publish will ever be enough to cover the fact that Leclerc was a fucking menace. Carlos joined them, laughing and leaning over the Aussie as he continued to mock the other couple. Their little group continued talking and bickering in the same spot, some fans and media’s cameras catching some of their moments, probably they’ll see each other in some TikToks or reels when they opened their socials, but right now they all felt lighter.
Maybe it was the ambiance, the lack of scents thanks to the patches they used, the knowledge that this circus will be over soon, or the new bond the drivers shared after the meeting with the older and retired drivers. Newfound relations were made and somehow the grid seemed less tense, like, last race fucking Alpine won a 2-3 podium an their drivers hugged each other, putting an end to the French war… After what? Five or more years? And that hasn't be only change, he swears he had seen Fernando and Mark linger more often in Mercedes garage, –not not mention the constant visits of James Vowles to Lewis’ side of the garage where somehow, each time, Toto Wolff was there, or vice versa, he had seen Toto and an old Mercedes engineer visit the Brit omega in Williams–, even Fred got more time to spend with the Aussie alpha, rekindling their friendship. Whatever raced in the minds of every single person involved in this newfound peace on track, well he must be thankful.
He exited his own zone as soon he heard Lando and Max bickering, or well, more talking shit.
— Come on man, can’t we just have a moment without her here? It’s like Sky living from our discomfort.
Oscar finally spoke up, seaking for some context of the change. — What are you talking about?.
— Look at the screen —. His eyes followed the TV Carlos’ defeatedly pointed at, unsurprisingly, there it was, Danica Patrick talking about some sort of gossip or nonsense. — I swear they make it for views and drama, there’s like far more drivers that could be making her job, Montoya or even Grosjean could be there.
He interjected. — I thought Sky had fired her?.
— Same, but apparently she gives them enough content to keep her inside —. The Brit made a dramatic sigh, though it seemed more like a yawn. — I swear it, everytime she hosts my fyp is filled with awkward compilations of her and the other reporters' conversations… Most of them are Jenson looking dead at the camera.
Max hummed in agreement. — At least she’s not bothering anyone right now, it’s just her.
The TV screen continued to show Danica with her characteristic mic signaling to something behind her, her expression totally presumptuous. The camera moved where her finger was pointing, directly to the crowd, the camera trying to focus on a group of people near the barriers, maybe the VIP zone? Not that he could tell by the quality of the image, as they only showed distorsioned shapes with colours. Oscar huffed, moving his gaze from the TV to shoot a look at the Dutch.
— Talked too soon Max, look.
The rest of the group groaned at the sight, even Carlos started to massage his temple, damn that woman is well liked around here. — Mate! Care to turn on the sound? Wanna hear what this woman’s saying —. Almost instantly the voice of the beta ex-driver filled their ears, and apparently the cameraman finally focused the lens to see what that woman was on.
Fatal error.
— As you can see, over there we find no only one, but three world champions: Keke Rosberg and of course, Jenson and Nico Button-Rosberg, doing a special appearance after many races with no answer, not gonna lie I was told that Jenson would be hosting Sky today, but there they are —. As the beta woman spoke the camera captured Keke, Nico and Jenson talking between the, the Brit embracing his mate by the waist with his chin over the omega’s shoulder, the German still talking with his father, the three of them not noticing the camera on them, not that they looked bad, they dressed up luxurious but elegant. — Moving to the right we can notice no other than the own Louis Button-Rosberg with his little sisters: Alaïa and Naila, though we’re keeping the girls faces private, as all the world have now know that Louis was also the ex Williams driver Logan Sargeant, good for them to pay us a visit, now… —.
The McLaren’ second driver was speechless, his eyes fixated on the TV screen, his mouth gaping at the sight of the blonde omega, the one he had desired since his adolescence, the one who owned his dreams, the one he had been stalking on social media in order to understand and be part of the world the other belonged to. And jeez, God have mercy on him. He looked ethereal. His blonde hair was styled to have some waves and curls, a pair of sunglasses placed between those silky golden strands, and his face, pale and smooth, maybe with a little bit of makeup if he squint his eyes to the not so clear image the TV was showing, a soft smile on his pink fluffy lips, those lips that mow we're moving to talk to the people around him. His outfit was delightful, whoever recommended the blondes to use blue was a fucking genius, his clothes embraced every curve, movement, he was clearly wearing the clothes, not the other way. After all, Log- Louis looked so confident, giggling, bubbling in the spotlight, clearly glowing with the lights of the night, the fireworks complementing his smile, his dimples being more noticeable than it had been in years.
His mouth felt dry and even though he was using scent patches, he could sense the faint smell of sandalwood lingering around him, his alpha instincts even making soft rumbles as he kept watching the scene, not paying much attention to whatever the woman on the screen was narrating.
His eyes only had one person to focus on.
His daydreaming was cut short as soon he felt someone shake his shoulders. He blinks once and then twice to recover, looking angrily at Lando, how dare he to-?
— Oh wait! Look at that, Mick, Esteban and Lance are there too, seems that they’re talking with Louis, it’s been a while since we have seen them together in one place, don’t you think? Now that we see them, this may be the not-so-first time Louis is spotted in the paddock, will he enter Aston’ motorhome or maybe McLaren? No one has forgotten about that kiss…
Wait, is he coming over? Will he see him after what appears to be a lifetime? They’ll get the chance to speak freely, no more lies, no secret lives, no more hiding, will they? Is that even possible? Has some God taken pity on the situation and decided to intervene? Go no, if he’s going to be here today with his whole family, and the beta said that Button was supposed to host with her, that means that they’ll be here for the whole weekend! He got the chance, but first he needs to re-arrange his room that has been a mess since Baku, only the letter of his second win sitting safely on his coffee table, the reminder of what he had and now could take if his approaches were welcomed.
— I need to go, see you around —. He didn’t linger to hear the responses of his fellow drivers, running to his driver room and locking it before anyone could enter without permission, he’s an alpha with a purpose and no one will stop him of finish this task, much less when the time is counted and he can’t waste a single minute more after spending years of yearning.
Without his knowledge, across his place, in the exact spot the Sky Sports camera caught them, the Button-Rosberg family was there, sharing a good moment before the three retired drivers started working for the media. Louis was happily talking with his friends of all and anything at once, the congratulations were said and Esteban bright and toothed smile make everyone keep the vibes, sharing some predictions about the race, –sometimes his papa or dad interjected with their own opinion, but that didn’t make the moment less endearing–. Louis was calm, his scent revealing the happiness he was feeling, going out with his friends and family was a good distraction after what happened in his parent’s yacht and he doesn’t want to repeat that experience, nor see that afraid gaze in any of his sister eyes again, he was working on it with some specialist, since the young omega refused to take any medication.
— And then Pierre looked at me and said that he was happy and proud about me maintaining the first place! Savez-vous how much of a shock was that to me? Mon Dieu, for a moment I thought I went to a quelque sort of multiverse where he and I were still friends!.
They giggled softly as the French continued his rant, moving his hands to communicate better the situation. — Liebe , with the amount of times we’ve listened about Pierre, we might start thinking that he’s replacing us.
Lance and him crackled at the comment, watching amused by how now Esteban’s face was completely red and the smug smirk in the German’s face. They kept the banter, sometimes Alaïa and Naila would pass by and hug him or ask some strange question about the race or the repeatedly question of ‘it’s not fair, Loulou, they should be here, this is soo boring’ and then he had to explain all over again with the help of mummi and auntie Vivian that the fireworks and noise would make their pets feel overwhelmed, so they’re better at their villa, that they’re going to meet them as soon this affair ended or their sleep time neared.
The minutes passed like seconds and at some point the girls started pointing and waving at someone at the distance, all of the family stared at where they signaled, maybe it was tío Fer and uncle Mark? No, they’ve talked earlier and they’ve said that tonight they were occupied, even Lance confirmed it! So who then? Unfortunately the blond omega didn’t bring his lenses nor his glasses today, so he couldn’t distinguish anyone from afar, but apparently his parents did, as their faces soured, his papa making that grossed out nose scrunch.
— What now, papa?.
His sisters listened closely as they watched the two women in the group start packing. — Work calls, apparently… Lou, can you see the live on Sky Sports? Need to hear what this woman has said in the last minutes I’ve left her host alone.
He nodded, searching for his phone in his bag, opening his socials that already were filled with videos of him and his family on their spot. Mein Gott , has she never heard about privacy? They’ve been here for less than an hour and a half and this woman already talked about all the gossip. Hopefully his dad would take care of the media as always.
— Just as usual, she spotted us and showed on live television the last fifteen or so minutes of conversation, at least she covered Ali and Nana's faces… Not saying that this helps to the fact that she hasn’t talked about the race, principals or upgrades since she showed us.
Both Nico and Jenson sighed, searching in their own bags the equipment necessary for this reportage from the crowd, handing a new mic and auricular to Keke so he could comment if he wanted, not that the Finn payed a single look, more entertained in seeing the defeat in his sons and son-in-law faces after Lance informed them that a group of Sky’s staff were approaching them.
— And that’s the signal to go, come here prinzessinnen —. Nico crouched and opened his arms to both little girls who gladly hugged him, giggling when the Brit alpha crouched too to kiss them on their little heads, wishing them goodnight.
The goodbyes were exchanged, Vivian and Sina taking the girls hands after they waved everyone, exiting the place as soon as the staff started to arrange all the cameras so they could begin. The throuple and him understood the hint and took their bags too, the three drivers waving before going back to their garages or motorhomes, leaving Louis alone with his dads and isoisä, he walked the few steps that separated them, finally hugging them too, his family scents covering his own, letting him be scented and feel protected by the before going down there too. He was scared of whatever this was going to result, but he needed closure, he needed to confront the mess he left behind, alone.
— Go on, mausi , we will see you at noon, don’t forget to eat something and call us if needed, okay? —. His papa’s voice was always so reassuring to him, he felt how the omega brushed some of his hair strands that looked messy. He nodded, he knew that his papa wasn’t okay with his decision of going alone to the ‘wolf's mouth’, but just like when he decided to create Logan’s persona he let him be after seeing it was a lost battle to get the idea out of his head.
Neither his dad nor isoisä , said something, clearly agreeing with Nico, but their hugs were too tight to think that they didn’t care, they were trying to appear cool and collected, but Louis’ knew them better, his dad would immediately go his way to him if needed and Keke only needed a nod to appear and put some order with his presence. And he just needed that, support and protection, then the rest will be alright.
He separated himself from the embrace and waved to them, deciding to take the long way to the papaya’s place, knowing well how to get to his- the Aussie alpha’s room. As he walked off he could still hear the first comments of his parents reportage, it made him chuckle.
—- Thanks, goodnight everyone, as you can see here I am with two special guests to comment about this grand prix. Maybe some experience can show us who’s the next champion or race winner, want to share something, Nico? Keke?.
— Yes, first of all, Danica, that entrance you made for us was spectacular, a bit long but we appreciate the effort. Now, talking about this GP we can say it is dreaded by many fans since this will decide if Verstappen takes for another year the crown or if McLaren is still competitive.
— Well, this season was far more interesting to watch as we have many surprises, but I can say that the style of this season brings some déjà vu. The pattern is a little bit similar to 2009, don’t you think, Jense? If this boy Verstappen ends in fifth and in front of Norris he will be champion, before Abu Dhabi.
-
The night from the paddock looked beautiful, the moon was shining and if he squinted long enough he could see the little shiny dots of the starry night of Las Vegas. The lights weren’t that bright for him to put his glasses on, but still, not bringing his lenses made it a little difficult the task of arriving safely to where he was supposed to appear. He paused, sensing his hands trembling by the anxiety of confronting the people he used to share place with, the ones he lied to or hasn’t talked to in years, his scent hasn’t changed though, still sweet and relaxed, maybe a little bit stronger than usual but not heavy or rotten. He could make it.
He took some deep breath before continuing his pace, his fingers clutching his bag’ handles, watching how the garages seemed closer, he could see how some staff and engineers stopped on their tracks to watch him, as if his presence was shocking, –he’s been here longer than them, probably–. He kept walking, breath in with the nose and breathing out with the mouth, he repeated all the mantras he knew, calming his nerves. Remember, keep your head up, walk with confidence, look at the eye and smile, this was just like when he was younger, walk and let the cameras take the angles you want them to have, no showing any trace of insecurity, those are moments to be shared in private, be the example, be the perfect magazine cover.
The orange building was easy to spot even without lenses, he smiled a little bit more as soon as he look at it, paying little attention to the hushes and voices that started to be louder when they realised his presence, not looking back when some drivers tried to catch his attention, he can talk to them later, not now, he needs to get to McLaren, no matter if he has to fight Stella or Brown to let him in. Thankfully all drivers and staff around there were using their patches so he couldn’t tell if they were shocked, angry or something like that when he passed in front of them, he only wanted to see one single alpha, he wanted to explain and talk, or if it is the case, say goodbye.
Not that he wants to walk away of the man that had been in his dreams and most profound desires since he was thirteen, it would crush him to the core, but if the decision was taken he couldn't beg nor ask for a second chance, his actions had consequences and if one of them was him separating himself from the one he loved, he would take it. At least he would have the memory of those lips pressed on his, his sandalwood scent embracing him, mixing with the vanilla and cinnamon of his, he will adore that moment for the rest of his life if they paths get separated, if life gives them new partners, careers, children, friends, pack and family, even if they experience different lifestyles, even if the last memory was a bittersweet kiss in Monza’s parking lot.
Don’t ask him how he got in front of the door, or how he passed and ignored the ninety percent of people around him, he didn’t care. He was there, he could listen some rumbling and moving noises from behind the closed door, light notes of sandalwood were perceived by his nose, he smiled fondly, Oscar might have a stoic face but his scent was always present, his scent patches sometimes couldn’t hide properly his emotions and then some notes of his would linger around the place he was in, showing his emotions to anyone who’s around. Nervously he re-arranged his clothes, his hands brushing his hair, making everything to appear presentable before knocking the door.
One, two and three knocks.
The noises from behind the door didn’t stop, instead, a muffled voice was heard.
— Kim, not right now! I’m okay! If Lando said something don’t, tell him to stay in his business!.
Oh Gott , he hasn’t smell him, he hasn’t realised that behind the door it wasn’t Kim, that it was the omega friend he once had, the one whom he shared dreams with, the one he kissed races ago, the one who he keeps leaving voice messages in his phones, the one that he keeps tracks on social media, liking every video or post he’s in. Because he has seen all of it, maybe he hasn't uploaded anything in a while, but he sees every like and comment, he had saved every single voice message, listening to them when he needs to remember the tones and pitches of the voice from the man he loves, to dream that he’s right beside him, that nothing have changed.
— It’s not Kim, Osc —. Gott, he hates how his voice sounds, trembling, anxious and his accent even makes it worse.
The noises from behind the door stopped. Silence was the answer he received, just two minutes after, heavy steps were audible and the door was pushed open to reveal the Aussie in his McLaren merch. His hair was a mess, no scent patch visible, eyes were wide open and a little bit glassy, his skin as pale as always and panting, his mouth gaping, trying to figure some sort of word out of it while his scent revealed shock and… Happiness?
— Hi Osc.
With no hesitation, as if a curse was broken, Oscar moved and hugged the German omega, the latter letting his bag fall ungraciously to the ground, accepting the hug of the shortest, embracing him too. He let the tears fall too, he really missed this, he missed him. Louis started sobbing, hugging the man in his arms tighter, nuzzling his nose in the scent gland of brunet’s neck, memorizing all, the commodity of his arms, how strong they were, his calming demeanor, how fluffy his hair could be, he missed this.
— Lo- Louis… You are here, I-I what?.
As soon as he said that, he separated himself from the taller omega, cupping his face between his hands, smiling at the difference of their skin tones. He looked at him, at Louis, and he was gorgeous, the cameraman didn’t make him any justice, he looked perfect, his face was with a light layer of makeup, exalting all his features, some rose blush on his cheekbones with a little bit of golden in it, his eyes with some glitter in his tear duct and a soft light brown eyeliner, no forgetting how his lips were pursed in a pout but with a glint of pink gloss, his makeup was clearly arranged to make his eyes the star of the night. God he is so beautiful. No matter if his cheeks have tear tracks, or if his nose and eyes are red, –probably his are too as the alpha feels his own tears make their way down to his chin–, he's the most ethereal omega that could have crossed paths with him.
— Oscar, I-.
The blond’s voice was just above a whisper, breathy, like he saying only his name took all the air in his lungs, and it was too much, he dreaded this moment, pulling his face once again, like they did long time ago, into a kiss, a desperate one, one that showed all the things they couldn’t say, all the feelings they had suppress. They both will need to talk about the whole situation, the web of lies, the truth and the letter, but that can wait, this moment is about them. And when Louis reciprocated the kiss, opening his mouth, giving him access to more of him he let himself go. He broke the kiss for a second while lifting the omega ibn his arms, carrying him inside his room kicking the expensive purse inside too and then closing the door with his back, the only thought was having that gorgeous man with him, to feel him, to love and adore him. Just as he deserves it.
They separated again, their lungs needing air in them, and now only a thread kept their link, both men flushed with lust and love in their eyes, though Louis seemed hesitant, avoiding the alpha gaze and playing with the back hairs of the brunet, where his hands were placed. Oscar changed the position of how he was lifting the German, –the omega made a cute whimper when he was shifted–, positioning his legs in order to hug his waist and his arms to stay safely in his shoulders and neck. One arm of the Aussie maintained the hips of the omega, while the other locked the door, it wasn’t like he was going to missed, he already recorded the PR stuff and Andrea have been compassionate with him about the amount of work he has to do, –he can remember Lando accusing him of favouritism, brat–, so tonight it was going to be theirs, his driver room already locked and any entrance was secured, also, it was already night so the others might think that they just went and partied hard, it was Las Vegas at the end.
No more time to waste, he thought, going directly to the couch he cleaned minutes ago, graciously putting the blond’s back on it, letting his body top the other, memorizing the image of Louis in that state, flushed, swollen lips, panting, pupils of completely dilated and messy hair.
— God you’re so beautiful —. He breathed, his gaze never fluttering from the German face, his scent covering the whole room.
But the older man was nervous, now biting his lips, untangling his hands from the nape of the Aussie, until he looked up, the blued meeting the hazel, his voice trembling. — Oscar… I’m sorry, I have so much to explain, please let m-.
— Louis, I don’t fucking care, I love you and that’s enough.
And again they’re lips found their way to the other, opening mouths, battling tongues and the smell of vanilla with cinnamon mixed with the sandalwood. Louis’ arms hugged the alphas neck to press their bodies more to the other. More kisses were shared, moans and grumbles sounding in between the breaks, and then the clothes vegas to disappear one by one, each robe being stripped by the person removing it. Their skins hot to touch, their instinct as high as they could be, and as more skiing was revealed more places to delight and mark. Oscar’´s moles began to be sucked one by one and Louis's clavicles were bitten and marked, both hands dedicated a good time to explore the other body, to feel it, to memorise it, to remember it.
Their now naked bodies start to push and collide, the slick and erection being sensed by the two of them. Words weren’t necessary, they both out of their periods of fertility, both of them clean to be touched, to be owned. Their breath began to be more compulsive, needing more air as the fingers injured new entrances, fingers now pulling hair, fingers making their way, complacent the other. Names were moaned, different languages filled the ears, rumbles as the knowledge of lust and pleasure filled brains. The scents once calming were now sickeningly sweetened and strong, as if it was a sauna and not a room, hot was in the air and if they could see the windows behind the heavy curtains they only would be able to see fog. The sounds of the paddock were muted by the moans, the whimpers, the high curses, the growls of pleasure, love confessions being said, love words shouted at the air. Sounds of slaps, of grunts and heavy breaths was the music that adorned their ears, each collision skin to skin giving vibrations to each body, waves of lust and satisfaction filling their desires. New position, seated, on lap, crawled and who knows what more, none of them a prim but not for that a harlot.
Just an alpha and an omega meeting and discovering the other.
The minutes converted in hours and their sounds silenced the vibrations from the purse or the coffee table, all too consumed in what they wanted, what they've desired for years. It wasn’t until their last bit of energy was used that they let themselves rest, their bodies tangles, no way to know were the other began and the other end, hugging, purrs and rumbles between lazy kisses and soft smiles, hands caressing cheeks and flesh, no paying attention to the run eyelash, sweat adorning their bodies. More words were said, more love being shared, more of the other to take and adore.
— Well, I think we should talk now, do you mind, mate?
The alpha chuckled. — You just had my cock inside you, don’t call me mate, Louis.
The blond seemed to glow at his name being pronounced by the tongue of the other, smiling and preening himself at the name. — We need to acknowledge the elephant in the room, Osc.
The brunet let out a sigh but nodded, their foreheads resting on the other, but accepted it. — I’m all ears, babe, I will not cut you.
The pet name made the omega smile more, his cheeks now starting to hurt by the amount of time he had been smiling since he knocked the door hours before. — I think I should start with a proper presentation, hm? —. A hum came from the McLaren driver, so he kept going, his real accent on full display as the fatigue began to make a place in his body. — My name is Louis Heikki Button-Rosberg, I’m the oldest son of Nico and Jenson Button-Rosberg, though dad isn't my biological dad, he adopted me when he married my papa, I was born in Germany but was raised mostly in Monaco…
Without their knowledge the world outside the room kept moving, the fanfare of the F1 long gone and ended, the only things that remained were the blinding lights illuminating the paddock, some remaining staff cleaning the stands, some fans still lingering and admiring the end of the circus. The fireworks are no longer being used, only the moon and stars adorning the sky, though in a couple of hours they’ll be outshined by the sun. That’s the cycle, no? The night changes, but always going back every night to the place it belongs.
Not that it mattered, the two men in the room kept talking, knowing the other, listening to the presentations and vague explanations of their decisions and emotions, agreeing in their sentiments towards the other, but the fatigue of their previous activities took the last drop of energy in their bodies, the eyes beginning to fall and close, the tongue to exhausted to formulate and pronounce proper words, their brains forgetting how to combine the verbs and the languages to talk, what lasted was their bodies firmly pressed to the other, only the image of their partner next to them being the last thing in their minds.
-
The loud and continuing banging in the door was the last thing that woke them up. It was more the mix of loud vibrations coming from the coffee table and somewhere in the ground, the voices from outside the room and the feeling of pain in their bodies that made them open their eyes, confused at the noises. Both men looked at each other, trying to comprehend the situation, until the memories of midnight came to their brains, their eyes wide open as the voices from the other side became clearer and they could put a face to each of them. Fuck no. They're not presentable or ready to go out, fuck the whole room screamed sex and their bodies are a living proof of that, teeth marks, hiccups, scratches, red spots, messy hairs and naked bodies. They don’t have spare clothes to put on, the German would have to go out with the same clothes of last night, run make up and walk in front of the cameras as if he just went out of a motel, –not a far description, but still–, and if not, he would have to use the Aussie’s ones, and knowing him as he does there are only McLaren Merch in the wardrobe, walking with that would be another proof of the night.
They both seated properly, still naked but more conscious of their situation. Their phones keep buzzing and vibrating, until Oscar took his, being flooded with messages from the pack and friends, even Andrea Stella and Zak Brown have messaged him to know if he was okay, what is he supposed to say ‘sorry mate I was occupied having the night of my life with the main character in F1 gossip?’ fuck no. He showed the blond the notifications, waiting for an answer, until the latter realised the hour.
One fucking P.M.
Louis went to the paddock at 10PM, and went down to visit Oscar at 12:45AM.
And then they forgot about the world until God knew when.
Og God no, his parents and family must be preoccupied, or worse, mad. He said he was going to have a deep talk with the grid, not to have a deep man inside him. Oh no, probably his parents already called the other drivers to ask for him, maybe looked at his location to know where he was. Fuck they probably already know that he didn’t talked to any driver, that he went directly to the number 81 driver’s room and never left. Much worse, the whole paddock now knows, his uncles must be searching for him too, or for Oscar if the messages are right the drivers also believe that Oscar’s missing. Or well, not all drivers since he can hear the voices of Toto, Lewis, Fernando and Seb from behind the door, urging them to open the door before they go for the key or break it, they must already catch the smell from behind the closed door, his godfather, uncles and the man who used to babysat him smelling that he was just fucked until sunrise with the beloved not so rookie alpha from their pack.
— They’re going to kill us.
That was sure.