Chapter Text
The first time Lewis Hamilton proposed to Nico Rosberg, they are twelve years old, sitting on the curb behind a karting track somewhere in Italy. It hadn’t been serious of course, nothing was at that age. Yet, years later, Nico remembered the moment clear as day, branded into his memory.
When Lewis finally finished his practice session, the sun was already setting on the horizon, coating the world in a soft glimmer. The hum of engines had quieted, leaving behind the faint smell of fuel and rubber mingling with warm summer air.
Nico was sitting on the low curb just beyond the paddock fence, his helmet by his side and two ice cream cones in hand– one vanilla, one strawberry. The concrete beneath him radiated the day’s heat, and the fading light turned the world around him to gold.
He heard the rhythmic scuff of karting boots on gravel, indicating Lewis’ approach, and turned around to greet him. A smile instantly appeared on Lewis’ face as soon as he spotted his friend. Without hesitation, Lewis flopped down beside Nico, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. He took the vanilla cone with a muttered “thanks” and licked at it like it was the best thing he’d tasted all week, eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the cool sweetness. Nico watched him closely.
Lewis' hair was flattened from his helmet, dampened by sweat, his curls sticking to his forehead. The race suit he was wearing was folded down to his waist, the sleeves tucked in at the sides. Underneath it, Lewis had thrown on some old gray graphic tee, weathered by sunlight and years of wearing. Nico believed he must have stolen it from his dad; no shop here sold stuff like that anymore. It was a bit too big on him, just like the race suit, not fitting to his slim figure, flowing wide over his shoulders. Still, it looked good. Nico thought he looked like a rockstar.
Only when Nico stopped staring did he notice that cool ice cream was dripping from the cone down to his hand, sticking to his skin. He scooped it up with his finger and tasted the fruity sugariness. Lewis eyed him, grinning from ear to ear. “You can never eat ice cream normally,” he stated, casually, like it was a fact. It was, Nico always made a mess.
He pressed his lips together. “Well, what am I supposed to do? It’s way too hot! Of course it’s going to melt!” Small droplets of white ice cream fell to the ground between his feet, as if wanting to prove a point. Nico grimaced.
Lewis didn’t respond and just laughed, shrugging it off. He was already biting into the waffle, having practically inhaled the scoop of vanilla ice cream. After such a long day, Nico couldn’t blame him. He had deserved a reward. And Nico had decided that the best way to show Lewis that he was proud of him was to buy ice cream and ignore his father’s reminders not to come home too late.
It was Saturday and it was summer and Nico just wanted to be by his best friend’s side. No harm in that.
When they had both finished eating in silence, Nico leaned back on the grass behind the curb, propping himself up on his elbows and stretching his feet out, yawning. Lewis turned to look at him, gaze lingering on Nico’s hair for a moment. Nico knew Lewis liked his hair. That’s why he kept it long.
Nico watched the sun disappear behind the horizon, vibrant orange giving way to pink and apricot and further up, darker blues. Only a few clouds scattered the sky, looking soft to the touch. The first stars appeared between them, shining bright, yet so far away. In his mind, Nico reached for them every night. Lewis followed his gaze, figuring out exactly what he was thinking, before lying down next to him and exhaling, exhausted. He crossed his hands behind his back and stared up at the colourful sky. “One day,” he muttered, “I’m gonna be world champion.”
Blinking twice, Nico tore his eyes from the setting sun and turned his head slightly to look down at his best friend. Nico had not a fraction of a doubt in his mind that Lewis would be world champion in the future. To him, he already was the world’s best. Friend, rival, brother, and whatever lies between that. Lewis was quick on the track and he had what it took to make it to incomprehensible heights of triumph. For him, the stars were within reach. For Nico, they seemed lifetimes away.
He made a face and shifted on his elbows, the sweet taste on his tongue suddenly turning bitter. “I don’t think I’ll ever even make it to Formula One,” Nico sighed, biting the inside of his cheek. Lewis' chocolate brown eyes immediately caught his. He sat up and crossed his legs, inching closer to Nico and looking at him with an unreadable expression. Nico chuckled a little, almost nervous. “What?”
Lewis was close enough that their hands were almost touching where they were resting on the ground. He didn’t seem too bothered by it, except for the slight blush creeping up his neck. Nico blamed it on the heat. “Of course you’ll get into F1!,” Lewis declared, like it was inevitable. “You’re the second best driver in the world, Nico!”
Nico had to laugh at that, watching Lewis’ face contort after he realized what he’d said. Still, when he saw Nico’s amusement, his embarrassment gave way to a stupidly handsome grin. Nico caught his breath. “Yea, because you’re always gonna be the best one, right?”
Lewis snorted. “Well, obviously.”
There was a beat. Then, Lewis lifted his hand up, brushing past Nico’s fingertips with the movement. He brought it to Nico’s face, gently tucking an unruly strand of golden hair behind his ear. His hand lingered for a bit too long, soft fingers on pale skin. Lewis was still grinning down at a slightly baffled Nico, his eyes glinting mischievously. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and laced with devotion.
“Don’t worry about not winning any trophies, Nico. I’ll just marry you so my trophies are yours too.”
For a heartbeat, Nico forgot how to breathe. The words hit him like a stray spark of electricity. Light, teasing, but strange enough to make something twist in his chest. Something he hadn’t quite thought of before. Lewis had said it so casually, grin wide and eyes gleaming with mischief, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But Nico’s mind snagged on it, replaying the sentence again and again until it started to sound almost serious. Marry me.
He knew it was a joke, of course it was, yet for a moment, he couldn’t help but picture it. The two of them standing side by side, sharing everything, not just trophies or podiums but something quieter, more private. Seriously thinking about it, marrying Lewis didn’t seem all that bad. They could have ice cream for dinner every day. The thought startled him, warm and ridiculous all at once, and he felt heat rush to his face.
Lewis’ laugh broke the spell. It was loud and unrestrained, his head tipping back, the last sunlight catching in his curls. The way Nico liked him best, honest and so human. Nico groaned and rolled his eyes, swatting at Lewis’ arm more to hide his own flustered smile than to scold him. Still, his pulse refused to settle, his cheeks burned, and he hated that part of him wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny.
Then, Nico grinned. “I’ll never buy you ice cream again,” he mumbled and looked away. His heart was beating too fast to be normal and Lewis’ laughter rang in his ears, a sound so bright and pure he wanted to drown in it.
“You didn’t say no,” Lewis reminded him, raising his eyebrows in fake consideration. Nico just shook his head, failing to hide his own delight. “Asshole,” he shot back, ignoring the way Lewis’ eyes lit up with adoration.
Nico was really glad to have him as his best friend. He really hoped Lewis was right and they would be sharing podiums in the future, bright lights and so many cheers. Until then, he could wait. Until then, he had Lewis to wait with. And that felt right.
The sun blinked one last time, then it was gone behind the horizon, making way for the moon. Suddenly, the stars seemed just a little bit closer to Nico’s reaching hand. Beside him, Lewis was smiling softly.