i was shaking in my shoes (whenever he flashed those baby blues)

by Anonymous

Summary:

“What are you talking about?” Mick’s eyes were incredibly blue and very, very confused as he stared up at him.

George momentarily forgot how to speak.

Mick took this as an invitation to continue speaking.

“Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?” he asked, softly, and reeking of lemons.

George’s own eyes widened. “Mick, who made you feel like it was wrong to be in heat?”

“What?!”

__

 

or: george smells like earl gray, mick smells like lemonade. they get a bit weird about it. brocedes is painfully oblivious, but man are they nosy.

title from centrefold by j. geiles band

Notes:

spending my Rosh Hashanah writing omegaverse was surely not what anyone had in mind....least of all me.

Chapter 1: The lemons were now stressed out.

Having his car stop halfway through pre-season testing was not exactly George’s cup of tea, but he couldn’t help but remain hopeful that the car was good and that everything would be okay. The rest of the garage though, did not agree, and George waited impatiently for them to figure out whatever the hell was wrong with his car, trying to stay clear of anyone who seemed pissed. It was sort of difficult to do though, especially since despite the paddock's very clear rules on using scent blockers, someone was making the garage reek.

 

Well.

 

Not exactly reek, per se, but it definitely smelled like someone was very upset. And because George was a beta (and literally the only one in the paddock that he could tell), he was getting really concerned, because if he could smell someone’s distress that was probably a problem. At least it smelled nice- and now that George thought of it- it definitely smelled like lemons. Like, it smelled a bit like if someone sprayed him in the face with lemon extract or something. 

 

George looked around the room searching for anyone who looked particularly upset. There wasn't anything notable though, except for Mick who was sitting in one of the corners with a hot drink (George couldn’t tell what it was), and who was glaring down at some paperwork. George didn’t blame him for being annoyed. If he had to drive that fucking Haas and work with Steiner and then been forced to watch everyone but him race, he’d also be upset.

 

But that wasn’t an excuse for him to break the rules- if it really was Mick who wasn’t wearing blockers. George frowned and stared at the data he had been pretending to read for the past ten minutes. He sniffed the air again, hoping anyone who saw him just thought he had a cold or something, and didn’t think he was like being a weirdo. 

 

It definitely smelled like angry lemons.

 

Not that lemons could inherently smell angry. But if they did, this would be what they smelled like. George was sure of it. 

 

What he wasn’t sure of though, was why no one had commented on the smell. 

 

He stared at Mick’s drink. 

 

Maybe he was drinking lemonade? No, that couldn’t be it. Mick was drinking a hot drink, and while Mick may have had terrible taste (because seriously, why was he wearing tie-dye yellow and black jeans), there was no way he was drinking hot lemonade. 

 

Hm.

 

Maybe he ought to take a gander around the room, so he could see for himself if Mick really was the one making everything smell like angry lemons. He stood up, garnering a few confused looks, and began his trek around the room.

 

Fuck.

 

Mick was staring at him.

 

As George approached him, the smell was definitely getting stronger and-

 

Oh God.

 

It was definitely coming from Mick.

 

George had no idea what he could do. He had smelled alphas and omegas before, and even without blockers their scents hadn’t been so strong. But- if George remembered correctly- people’s scents got stronger if they were in heat or in a rut so that meant…

 

Oh God.

 

Mick was in heat, probably, because there was no fucking way Mick was an alpha. 

 

And he was sitting in a fucking garage, looking profoundly miserable, alone, and probably terrified of getting fired if he skipped what was probably his second day of work at Mercedes

 

George needed to talk to him, because whatever Mick had been used to at Haas, certainly didn’t apply here. At Mercedes, they followed the rules: whether that meant not showing up the work in heat (because it was fucking dangerous for everyone involved), or not firing people for what they couldn’t control. 

 

But George wasn’t sure how he could tell Mick that.

 

Mick was new to the team, painfully polite, and unbelievably cagey about his personal life. George couldn’t just walk up to him and ask if he was in heat and expect Mick not to panic. That would be rude, and also probably workplace harassment. 

 

George thought for a moment about all the various laws he had spent the off-season learning after he had been voted as the GPDA director. And- yes , he was right - asking Mick if he was in heat in public surrounded by coworkers was definitely against the workplace guidelines and code of conduct. So, George would really need a way to tactfully ask Mick if he was doing okay while also making sure he understood that walking around in heat was very much unsafe for both him and others.

 

But, asking Mick could be a problem in itself, because what if Mick was in heat and then asked for George’s help? George couldn’t help him! Because despite the carefully manufactured alpha sort of vibe he had tried to maintain, he was just a beta. So if Mick tried to get him to help, he was screwed.

 

It didn’t help that like two percent of the entire world were betas, and Mick had probably never met a beta in his entire life. George hadn’t. But that was all unimportant because Mick was staring at him and George was only like two feet away and definitely looked like a weirdo creep who was trying to prey on him while he wasn’t feeling well and that definitely wasn’t a great impression to make on someone he was trying to help.

 

Mick waved, awkwardly.

 

The lemons were now stressed out. 

 

That was fucking fantastic.

 

At least Mick was no longer angry? George was more than willing to take whatever win he could take, at this point.

 

“George? Can I help you with something?” Mick asked, his voice soft. His voice was usually soft though, something that George was kind of impressed by. Mick had more than enough reasons to just start yelling at people, and yet he always just stayed kind and soft-spoken. “George?”

 

Ah. Shit.

 

“Um.” George began, really unsure how to proceed. “Are you doing alright?”

 

Mick tilted his head slightly- a bit like a dog would, if George was being honest- and smiled at him. It was clearly forced. It didn’t help George’s concern. “I’m doing fine, yes. Are you okay? I’m sure it was obviously disappointing for the car to just stop working like that while you were driving.”

 

Ah. Car talk. George could talk about cars.

 

“It was frustrating, but we can only just keep going up from here. As long as it's not quite as bad as my old Williams, I really feel like I can’t complain too much.”

 

“Yes. I- erm- agree. That would be pretty bad, probably.”

 

The smell only worsened.

 

George tried not to seem like he was sniffing the air too much, but he also didn’t want go breathe through his mouth because what if his breath smelled or something and-

 

“Why did you come over here? Weren’t you working?”

 

“Well, I needed to stretch my legs a bit- the stools aren’t exactly comfy when your legs are as long as mine.”

 

“Yeah,” Mick laughed, sounding very uncomfortable. “I guess. I wouldn’t really know though.”

 

“Yeah. Hm. Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

“Yes?” Mick still looked confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

The smell was only getting stronger. George knew he really couldn’t, in good conscience, let Mick be alone right now.

 

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

 

Now Mick looked really confused.

 

“Sure?”

 

“Teammate bonding!” George called out awkwardly to everyone else as he led Mick out of the garage and towards the motorhome. He put a hand on Mick’s back, trying to keep Mick from leaving, or god forbid, doing anything unsightly in public. “So, um, I’m really not sure what you know about the team dynamic at Mercedes, but we try really super hard to be accepting and everything so-”

 

“George, what’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”  

 

At this rate, George’s drivers room was going to reek of lemons for the next year.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but um-” George sighed. “Do you need my driver's room?”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“ Blimey , well, I know that Haas wasn’t an exactly good work environment for you, believe me, I read through the stack of paperwork that Seb gave me when I became the GPDA director, and it really wasn’t fair what they did to you because I know you’re a good driver and you deserved far better than that shit-show of a team and I really hated seeing Steiner speaking about you like that and what they did to you at Abu Dhabi was downright unforgivable. But anyway, Mercedes isn’t like that and Toto isn’t out here to make you look like an idiot and he isn’t going to force you to work when you ought not to be, because it's not only an issue of your safety, but it’s other people’s safety as well, and you need to remember that you might set other people off as well, and I know you can’t control it but you just really need to be careful in the future if you can, and I’m really not mad at you or anything, which is why I wanted to bring you here. And I know it’s probably your preferred place for these sort of things, but I know my room doesn’t really smell like much, so I figured you’d feel a bit safer here than somewhere like Lewis’ room or-”

 

“George?” 

 

George snapped his head up. The lemons had taken on a terribly acidic scent. George didn’t even want to wager a guess as to what that meant. He really hoped that Mick was not going to start dripping slick all over the middle of the hallway. 

 

“George, what are you talking about?” 

 

“Well you know, I- we- everyone here just wants you to feel welcome and safe and I know that this is probably not the best introduction to the season for you and I’m sorry it happened that way for you,” George continued to ramble as he fiddled with the lock on his drivers room door. “Unless it was the stress?” That was a thing that could happen, right? He thought he remembered that happening to Nicky once. “Did we stress you out that much already? Because, no offense, but you’re not even driving, so I’m sure that Toto could find a way to alter your obligations and I know that you just came off the end of a really stressful season and-”

 

“George-” 

 

“Was it because Gunther is here again? Did he do something to you last year? Other than the obvious because we could really see about getting some safety precautions for you because that’s not really-” 

 

“George!” 

 

The lemon scent had taken on a furniture cleaner quality. George stopped his rambling to pull Mick into his driver’s room and lock the door behind him. He really hoped that Mick wasn’t about to ask him to help. 

 

“So like I said, you can stay here and you can use my room and everything until we can get you somewhere more conducive. I’ll find someone from your team and tell them that you’re here and-”

 

“George.” Mick put his hand on George’s arm. The only thing that George could think was that Mick’s hand was stupidly large. “What the fuck are you on about?” 

 

George was so distracted by the way Mick was speaking, the way that his German accent made the words all sound a little softer, that he almost didn’t hear the question. 

 

He blinked his eyes to get them to focus again. “What do you mean?” 

 

“What are you talking about?”  Mick’s eyes were incredibly blue and very, very confused as he stared up at him. 

 

George momentarily forgot how to speak. 

 

Mick took this as an invitation to continue speaking. 

 

“Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?” he asked, softly, and reeking of lemons. 

 

George’s own eyes widened. “Mick, who made you feel like it was wrong to be in heat?” 

 

“ What?!” 

 

It was the loudest that George had ever heard Mick speak, and yet, it still wasn’t really that loud.

George opened his mouth to speak, but Mick suddenly started moving away from him, eventually slamming his back into the door. 

 

“Mick I-”

 

“I’m not in heat.” Mick hissed. “I promise you. I’m not in heat.”

 

George frowned. “Rut, then?”

 

That would be a bit unexpected, though maybe that was why Mick was shying away from him, because he thought George was another alpha and he was forcing him into a room with him and - 

 

“No!” Mick cried, “I’m not in any of those!”

 

“But-”

 

“But, what ? George.”

 

“You smell so strong. Like, really strong. Like if someone sprayed me in the face with lemon essential oil, and I’ve never smelled anyone’s scent like that before, and I’m not trying to be a creep or anything, I’m just confused.”

 

George had never seen Mick so lost before. The air reeked of lemons. George was beginning to worry if maybe he was the problem.

 

Oh God.

 

What if he was presenting, and he just happened to be really late, and his body had for some reason chosen to latch onto Mick or something?

 

“Oh my God-” George stepped away from Mick. “I’m sorry, I think that I might be the problem here-”

 

“What? George, I’m really not understanding what’s going on here. I shouldn’t have any strong smell or anything.”

 

“But-” George sat down on his bed, pulling his knees into his chest. “But you smell so strong. I could smell you across the room.”

 

“How do you know it's me?”

 

George stared at him. “Do you not smell like lemons?”

 

“ Fuck .” Mick sighed. “That’s definitely me. Are you sure you’re not going into rut?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I’m a beta, George. I should not smell this strong to anyone.”

 

“I-” Wait. What . “You’re a beta?”

 

“Yes? Please don’t tell anyone.”

 

“I won’t.” George paused. “ Holy moly - you’re also a beta?”

 

“I just said that- wait.” 

 

They stared at each other for a second.

 

“If you’re…a beta-” George started, looking over at Mick for confirmation. Mick nodded. “And I’m a beta. I know that. Then-” He brushed his hand through his hair. “Then why the fuck do you smell so good?”

 

“Uh. Well, have you met another beta?”

 

“No. Have you?”

 

Mick shook his head. “Maybe it's a weird beta thing? I also-” he said something in German, that George couldn’t quite catch “- I also forgot to put on my blockers this morning. Which is probably why you could smell me today and not other days.”

 

“Oh.” Hmm. “You smelled sad. Is that-”

 

“None of your doing, unless you want to give me your seat, which you obviously don’t want to do.”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“Right, well. Now what?”

 

“I mean, can you smell me at all?”

 

Mick shrugged. “I don’t really smell much. Smells a bit like tea, but you’re British so…”

 

“Well.” George shifted a bit where he sat. “I’ve been told I smell like earl gray, and I actually prefer coffee, so I reckon that might actually be me.”

 

“Oh. Huh. Well, it’s nice?”

 

George really hoped he wasn’t doing something embarrassing and cringeworthy like blushing, though if he was, Mick really couldn’t blame him because he’d never had anyone say that he smelled nice before. “You smell nice too. It’s a bit like lemonade.”

 

It was actually a lot like lemonade now that Mick was no longer as upset, and now that he thought about it, the slightly sugary undertones kind of suited him. But George could hardly pay attention to that, not when Mick’s face was slowly turning a rather nice shade of pink.

 

“People usually just think I put slightly too much lemon in my tea,” Mick shrugged. “Do you think you’ll smell really strongly to me? Or is this just a you thing?” 

 

“I don’t know,” George said. His terrible thoughts from earlier came flooding back and he cringed. “Unless I’m presenting really, really late.” 

 

Mick’s eyebrows crinkled together. It was almost cute. “Aren’t you a bit old for that?” 

 

George shrugged. “I don’t know, you always hear stories, you know.” 

 

“Isn’t there-?” Mick shut his mouth quickly. 

 

“Isn’t there what?” 

 

Mick shook his head. “I don’t want to say it.” 

 

“Mate,” George sighed. “I already dragged you into my driver's room and gave you a lecture on workplace safety because I thought you were in heat. Whatever you say can’t possibly be worse than that.” 

 

Mick hung his head. “Aren’t there, ah, a lot of….fluids? Involved in that?” 

 

George looked down, half expecting his race suit to be soaked through with…slick? Knotting juice? Pre-come? Was that even a thing that Alphas and Omegas had? But it wasn’t. “I think so? I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t pay much attention when they taught us about this stuff.” 

 

“But you’re not experiencing….fluids?” 

 

George looked up. Mick looked like he wanted to die. Like he was actively trying to camouflage into the wall behind him, which was kind of hard because the wall was white and Mick was wearing horrid tie dyed pants. 

 

“No,” George said. “God, no. It might just be a beta thing then.” 

 

Mick nodded. “Okay, probably. I mean, you’d be able to tell if you were in rut, right? Like you don’t want to-” his face flushed darker “-you don’t want to fuck me, right?”

 

“Not right now, I don’t.”

 

Jesus Christ , did he really just say that ?

 

George elected to blame whatever had just possessed him on the sudden shift in Mick’s smell, even though it definitely happened after George spoke. He tried to sniff the air subtly. 

 

Mick almost smelled…sweeter?

 

Weird.

 

“Not right now?” Mick mumbled, looking away from George.

 

“Ah, um- I don’t want to fuck you.” George frantically tried to correct himself. “Sorry, I’m not thinking straight right now. I’m really not used to being able to smell other people.”

 

“Oh, um, obviously yeah, sorry. Do you have blockers I can use? I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or anything, especially when you have to get back in the car.”

 

“Hm,” George thought for a moment. “I’m almost out of the one I brought with me, and I had planned to pop some on before I got back in the car. But, if you want to just finish off the bottle for me, I can just roll with what I have now, so that when I get out of the car you should be able to smell me. Then we’ll know if this is just a me thing, or if it's a weird beta thing.”

 

Mick shrugged. “Seems reasonable. Thank you for letting me use some.”

 

“Of course, Mick. I’ll just grab it for you, and I can wait outside for you to put it on.” George awkwardly bent down and searched through his toiletries that he had brought with him until he came across the near-empty bottle. “Here you go, I’ll be right outside but feel free to take your time.”

 

“Okay. Thanks.”

 

George handed Mick the bottle and stepped into the hallway. It did not smell like lemonade, but instead the usual nothingness that George was used to.

 

And for some reason, he almost missed it.

Chapter 2: lost in the Earl Gray sauce

Summary:

um. so micks pov!!!!! feat. earl gray and lewis hamilton

Notes:

hope yall enjoy ! this chapter is significantly hornier and somehow sadder than the previous one. please enjoy!!

It wasn’t that Mick didn’t believe George that his scent was supposedly strong enough to make George genuinely think he was in heat, but it was hard to imagine how that could be possible. He had never smelled anyone like that before, and he knew that he wasn’t supposed to smell that strong. But if Mick was being honest, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if George’s scent was as strong as George thought it would be. 

 

Especially since he hadn’t been able to think about anything but the fact that George Russell had just looked him in the eye and asked if he was in heat.

 

And then proceeded to not only tell him that his scent was nice (which Mick was not used to happening), but that he wanted to fuck him. It was quite literally the absolute last thing he had expected to happen during pre-season testing.

 

Part of him hoped that it was just a weird George thing. He didn’t need to be thinking about his own freaky biology on top of everything else that he needed to think about this season. 

 

But part of him was also curious. He had never been able to smell anyone incredibly strongly before. Sure he had smelled Alphas and Omegas before without blockers, but it was usually just kind of unpleasant and mildly overwhelming.

 

Privately, Mick was thankful he didn’t have to deal with the nightmare smellscape that the Alphas and Omegas had to. Life was already complicated enough without having to find who you were smell compatible with or whatever it was and Mick has long since accepted that he was going to end up alone with about 25 dogs. He was more than fine with that. 

 

But he had always been curious. 

 

And now here George Russell was, telling him that he smelled good and implying that he wanted to fuck him. It was a lot to take in. Especially the fucking part. Mick was very not over that.

 

Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe George was just weird. Maybe Mick was having a particularly lemony day. He didn’t really see why it had happened and they were all just freaks of nature so it was probably likely that it was a weird one off. 

 

But it also might not be. And that was kind of scary. 

 

Unfortunately, testing was very long. And Mick had a lot of time to overthink. 

 

By the time the day was drawing to a close, Mick had decided that he would not pay George any attention when he pulled back into the garage. He would just look at the data sheets. That way it would be a real and true test. If he was able to smell George as well as George claimed he was able to smell him, then he should know if George was back without looking up. 

 

There was one flaw to his plan and that was that Formula 1 cars were very loud. So he would know when George’s car was back in the garage. But not necessarily when George was out of the car. So he stared at the data sheets. And tried to only focus on the data sheets. But it was hard to make numbers compute in his brain when his brain was also trying to compute George freaking Russell. 

 

And so he waited. 

 

And waited.

 

And- Holy shit.

 

Mick’s head shot up from where he had been trying to focus on the stupid data sheets. He couldn’t look away from George from where he stood at the front of the garage, helmet and balaclava off, drenched in sweat. His hair was curling slightly- something Mick had never actually noticed before- but all of this was eclipsed by how fucking good he smelled. 

 

George had told him that he smelled a little bit like Earl Gray tea, but he had severely undersold it. It was like the most perfectly brewed cup of Earl Gray tea that Mick could have ever imagined. And he didn’t even like drinking Earl Gray tea that much.

 

It probably should have been overwhelming, especially because it was such a strong smell, but it wasn't cloying or sickening in the slightest. Instead, Mick was entranced by it, and though he knew he was staring he couldn’t take his eyes away from George. He had been doubtful before, but now he understood why George had thought he was in heat, because if he didn’t know better he also would have been seriously concerned. 

 

It was kind of insane. It was also kind of driving Mick insane, because he had never felt this way before. He had also never smelled someone this strong before, and he had never felt such a draw to someone like that, and now all he wanted to do was walk over to George, bury his face in his neck and smell him. 

 

Wait. 

 

What . 

 

Mick kind of wanted to slam his head in the nearest wall, but he couldn’t because George was now looking at him, and seriously, if he was thinking such horribly unhinged thoughts now when George was across the room, what on Earth was he going to do when George started talking to him?

 

George gave him a tentative thumbs-up, as if to ask if Mick could smell him. All Mick could do was nod, and pray that George didn’t walk up to him, or God forbid ask if he could talk to him while alone. He was also definitely getting sweaty from his sheer nervousness at whatever the hell was going on, (was this really how Alphas and Omegas experienced the world? If so, Mick understood why people took blockers so seriously now cause holy shit ) and the last thing Mick needed was for George to smell how fucking crazy Mick was going.

 

 Of course, Mick had the worst luck in existence, because George was walking over to him after putting his helmet and balaclava down, and seriously Mick was really not sure if he was going to be able to resist the urge to do something drastic. Now he understood why George had accidentally told him he wanted to fuck him. 

 

He was just happy he was wearing baggy, black jeans. 

 

And scent blockers. 

 

He wasn’t sure if George would be able to smell that on him, though if he could, he definitely would have picked up on that earlier. He really, sincerely hoped that George couldn’t. 

 

“So, how are we doing?” George asked, sauntering up to him. “Is it a me thing or-”

 

“You smell really good.” Mick mumbled, “Like, I see why you thought…that before.”

 

“Oh!” George smiled. He actually had a really nice smile, when he wasn’t badly acting in front of cameras. “Well that’s interesting. I’m going to run to my driver's room and freshen up a wee bit before we debrief and all that, so do you want to come with me and we can chat about everything?”

 

Oh no. 

 

Oh no .

 

“Yeah.” Mick responded, instantly regretting it. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

 

“Excellent! I’m just going to grab my helmet and such then and we can go.” 

 

As he walked away, Mick watched George’s headband slowly fall off his hair. It fell to the ground in what may have been slow-motion. Against his better judgment, Mick picked it up. It smelled really good. Like, really really good. As in, Mick wanted to stick it in his pocket and do horrible things to it later on.

 

Jesus Christ , he needed to get ahold of himself.

 

Especially because George was turning back around with his helmet and Mick didn’t want George to think that he was going to do something insane like jerk off to his headband sweat later, so he did the logical thing. 

 

And promptly shoved the headband into his pocket. 

 

“Ready?” George asked, sauntering up to him. 

 

Mick could only nod and follow George back to his drivers room like a slightly lost dog. 

 

Once they were safely inside the scent seemed to amplify somehow. Maybe it was the enclosed space. Maybe it was the fact that he was surrounded by George’s things. Mick didn’t know. He kind of didn’t want to know. As long as it didn’t get any more intense because then he feared that he would start squirming. 

 

“So,” George said, putting his helmet down on the table. “You can smell me?” 

 

“Yeah,” Mick nodded, trying and failing to not get lost in the Earl Gray sauce. “Yeah. I can.” 

 

“Are you sure it’s not just like, cause I got out of a car and I am sweaty?” George asked, making direct eye contact with Mick while he actually put his gloved pointer finger between his teeth and proceeded to bite off his glove before throwing it to the side. 

 

Mick really hoped that the blockers that George had loaned him would not wear off in the next three minutes. 

 

Mick tried to compose himself and not stare at George’s stupidly long and dainty fingers as he shook his head. “No. It’s definitely not that. I’ve never smelled anyone that smells this good coming out of the car before.” That sounded weird. But he hoped George knew what he meant. The only other person he really had to go off of here was fucking Nikita Mazepin who made it a habit to walk around the garage without blockers on after racing and made everything reek of weird milk and oil. 

 

Thankfully, George nodded like he understood. “And I can imagine that I probably smell a bit more….intense? Then you did to me?” 

 

No shit. Mick nodded. The headband was burning a hole in his pocket. 

 

“So? You think it’s a weird beta thing?” 

 

Before Mick could even attempt to formulate a response to that, George was unzipping his race suit and tugging it around his very slender hips. 

 

The smell of Earl Gray somehow intensified. 

 

Mick felt his knees knock together. 

 

“I mean, yeah probably,” Mick said, trying to not lean against the wall behind him. “It’s not like we can be scent compatible or anything.” 

 

“Yeah,” George said. “Right shame too, cause you did smell really good.” 

 

Mick’s stomach flipped. His ears burned. His knees properly turned to jello. 

 

Hell, if he had known that this was what had been waiting for him at Mercedes, maybe he wouldn’t have been so sad about getting basically kicked out of Haas. But that was not what he said. 

 

“Can I sit down?” he asked, as steadily as he could manage. 

 

George nodded and gestured vaguely to the chair in the corner with his chin, the traces of stubble on his face glinting with sweat in the fluorescent lighting. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to step into the bathroom real quick to get freshened up.” 

 

Mick tried very hard not to fall into the chair as George shut himself in the bathroom. Despite the fact that George was gone, the scent still lingered. It was surrounding him, burying itself in every single one of Mick’s pores to the extent that he briefly thought about never showering again. 

 

He took a deep breath. Beta scents weren’t supposed to linger this much. At least, that was what he had been told. But then again, there wasn’t a whole lot of information on Betas. They were the rarest secondary gender and subsequently, probably, the least studied. Mostly because there wasn’t really much to study about them. 

 

Mick couldn’t help but think that it was quite possible that every single scientist might be wrong about that. 

 

Fortunately, he didn’t have time to dwell upon that because the door to the bathroom opened and George stepped back out, clearly freshly showered and smelling a whole lot like weird men’s soap and a whole less lot like Earl Gray tea. 

 

Mick was slightly disappointed. 

 

“So I guess now we know that we have to really make sure we are wearing blockers around each other,” George said as he attempted to style his wet hair with his fingers. “Because we know it’s distracting.” 

 

And realistically, Mick knew that that was going to be the logical outcome. Because George was the head of the GPDA. He was notoriously a rule follower even by the most liberal estimates. But damn, Mick really, really wanted to grab him and shove his nose into George’s neck. 

 

“Yeah,” he heard himself saying instead. “We probably should. Don’t want you to crash your car because you start smelling lemonade or anything.” 

 

George laughed. A light, almost carefree noise that didn’t quite suit him, but Mick still found stupidly endearing. 

 

Endearing? He really needed to get a grip. And fast. 

 

“Well then, I’ll make sure to grab a new bottle of blockers from my trainer before I head to the debrief so we can both focus on the data and not the smells, right?” 

 

Mick nodded. “Okay.” 

 

He would not be thinking about the numbers in the debrief regardless. 

 

“Okay.” George paused. “It’s kind of a shame we have to wear the blockers, isn’t it? I mean you really did smell nice.”

 

Mick looked up. He was almost certain he was blushing.  

 

“Yeah, I guess so. But it is what it is, right?”

 

George was staring at him, blue eyes big and soft and Mick actually had to squeeze his hands together so that he didn't do something stupid like stand up and pinch George’s cheeks. 

 

It was definitely time to leave. 

 

“I’ll see you over there, then?” Mick gestured to the door. George was still staring at him. It was slightly disconcerting.

 

But then, George nodded, and Mick thought he vaguely smelled the Earl Gray smell get slightly bitter. 

 

“Okay. Alright. Good. Nice chat, see you soon!” Mick stuttered awkwardly as he got up, fumbled for the handle of the door and let himself out. 

 

The door was shut before George could respond.  

 

He stood in the hallway for a moment, just slowly blinking at the white wall ahead of him.

 

“Hey man, are you okay?”

 

Oh great! Lewis was here, just in time for his crisis. He really did not need an audience for this. 

 

“Mick?” Lewis asked again. “Did you get lost? I can show you to the meeting room, if you need.” 

 

Yeah. 

 

That would be the perfect distraction from whatever the hell was going on with George’s smell. 

 

“That would be great. I still don’t think I understand how to get around here, Haas’ motorhome was a bit smaller than this one.” 

 

Lewis raised an eyebrow at him, but he did laugh in response, so Mick assumed he was in the clear for whatever Lewis’ suspicions were about why he was standing in front of George’s room like an idiot. He followed Lewis to the meeting, trying to do and say all the right things so Lewis would not only like him, but also wouldn’t start asking him questions. It probably helped that now that he couldn’t really smell George anymore, he was actually able to think straight. 

 

Because that’s all this chaos was rooted in. It was just his body reacting to George’s smell, which while a bit inconvenient, wasn’t as bad as having actual feelings for George. 

 

The meeting ran long and was rather frustrating. It felt wrong to be sat in a debrief and not be the driver being asked the questions, and to just sit and nod and pretend that everything was fucking okay. But that was his life now. He wasn’t a driver anymore. 

 

George tilted his head in confusion at him around halfway through the meeting.

 

Mick ignored him. 

 

He was dismissed from the meeting before George and Lewis were. It hurt more than Mick wanted to admit, and part of him felt a bit like curling up in a ball under the hotel room blankets and sobbing. So, once he reached his room, that’s what he did after he showered and changed into his pajamas.

 

Until he remember that stupid fucking headband that he had slipped into his pocket. 

 

He should text George, and tell him that he found it on the floor and had forgotten to give it back when he went to his room, but-

 

But Mick didn’t really want to. 

 

He lay on his back for a moment, trying to keep himself together. 

 

He lost that fight though, and after a few moments of staring at the ceiling, he slid out of bed and kneeled by his discarded jeans from the day. He pulled the headband out of the pocket. 

 

Despite sitting in his pocket for a few hours, it still smelled like George.

 

Mick couldn’t tell what was worse: the fact that George’s smell instantly calmed him down, or the guilt and shame that crawled up his chest as he sat on the floor and cried, nose pressed to the headband.

Notes:

thank u for reading ! and thank you to everyone who commented, i'll respond to you all very soon!

pls kudos and comment if you want to bring me some joy (or if you want quicker updates, and not bc i wont update if you dont, but it motivates me to write faster if you do)

but thank u again for reading!!!

btw this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_r-GR80pH4I

was the inspo for how mick felt when george got out of the car. if you were wondering.

Chapter 3: fuck gunther steiner all my homies HATE gunther steiner

Summary:

this chapter is 4k words of george trying and failing to fight the urge to be a freak. he loses fyi

Notes:

heres a reminder that this fic is explicit? they dont get freaky yet but george is tempted by micks thighs. arent we all. god bless.

The sheer amount of lemonade George had been drinking was between only him, God, his bank account, and eventually, his kitchen. Or, when he was traveling, whatever kitchen he had access to. And since the store-bought lemonade just didn’t smell right, George began making his own. It was the sort of deeply shameful and weird thing that George had once been glad he’d never had to deal with. But unfortunately being a beta wasn’t enough to protect him from that sort of weirdness. 

 

And it both sucked, and it didn’t. 

 

The weird thing with Mick’s smell? George could’ve done without. Trying to look like a normal person and fit in with other people was hard enough without the new and interesting urge he apparently now had to shove his face in Mick’s neck. But George also genuinely liked hanging out with Mick. They had gotten brunch together a few times during testing and spent a bit more time in George’s driver’s room, just discussing how weird it felt to not understand a single fucking thing about how everyone else seemed to navigate the world. Their discussions weren’t just them commiserating over how weird it was to be a beta though and discussing how weird being an alpha or an omega would be though, and as time went on, they began to talk a bit more about their personal lives as well. 

 

Well. 

 

Personal lives that didn’t include the whole secondary gender thing. 

 

And though Mick was cagey about certain aspects of his personal life- which George understood, for obvious reasons- he could still tell Mick wanted to bridge the gap between them. On top of that, George could tell that Mick was trying really hard not to make his disappointment in not driving dampen George’s excitement at racing, and while it was sort of unnecessary (because he really did feel for him, and would be more than willing to let Mick cry on his shoulder if that’s what he needed), it just showed George how considerate Mick was. And that was really what George had learned throughout his time spent with Mick thus far. He had learned how kind Mick was to everyone around him, how hardworking he was, and-

 

George sighed as his phone alarm began to go off, signaling that Mick was coming over to his driver’s room soon. He probably should un-splay himself from his massage table and at least attempt to get his hair in some semblance of a working order. 

 

He frowned into the mirror. His hair was curling again, which it seemed to do especially here with the combination of sweat and too much humidity. He sighed before wetting his hair brush and shoving it through his hair. He knew it wouldn’t do very much, but maybe it would be enough to get Mick to think he was decently respectful. 

 

Why that mattered so much to George was anyone’s guess. And it was definitely not something that he wanted to unpack now. 

 

He barely had time to put on some extra blockers (because he was sure he had sweated them off at least a little) before there was a knock at his door. 

 

He opened it and Mick ducked in, his hat pulled low over his eyes like he was trying to hide. 

 

He did not smell like lemonade. 

 

George tried not to be disappointed. 

 

“What’s with the hat?” he asked instead. 

 

“Sorry?” 

 

“The hat,” George repeated, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious. “The way you’re wearing it makes it look like you’re trying to hide.” 

 

Mick shrugged. “I just didn’t feel like doing my hair when I was going to sweat off all the gel anyway.” 

 

“Yeah,” George said, sitting back down on the massage table. “Mine keeps curling everywhere, it’s a right pain in the arse.” 

 

Mick looked at him thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize it was curled.”

 

“It does! I wish it wouldn’t though, again it’s a bit of a pain.”

 

“It looks so nice and, um, spiraly-? Is that a word? Like it looks like it bounces but in a good way obviously? Um-” Mick licked his lips, looking away from him. “It looks nice, is what I am trying to say.”

 

“Oh.” George blinked, and internally made a note to text Charles later about how to make his hair less straight and sad, but also without looking like a bush. His mom was a hairdresser, so that probably meant Charles knew something, right? But that was unimportant now, because Mick looked about four seconds away from bolting out of the room. “Thank you, Mick.”

 

Mick gave him a tight-lipped smile, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

 

“Do you want to sit down, mate?”

 

Mick nodded and jumped up next to George on the table. “So I’ve been thinking.”

 

“Where are you going with this?”

 

Mick grinned. He looked a bit evil. George had not thought that was possible. He looked unreasonably good, though he wished he could see more of his face. That was when he was hit with a horrible, no good, absolutely fantastic idea, and plucked Mick’s hat off, throwing it onto the sofa. 

 

“Hey-!” Mick cried, trying to get it back. “What was that for?”

 

“It’s rude to wear a hat indoors.” 

 

Mick rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling that devious (and somehow very nice) smile, so George knew he couldn’t have been too offended. He tried not to think too hard about how Mick’s smile was affecting him. He wasn’t sure if he was succeeding. 

 

“Well, as I was saying,” Mick pushed a hand through his hair. It looked slightly damp. George wondered if it would smell like lemonade if he got closer to it. But he didn’t think that he would get away with testing that theory. “I have been thinking.”

 

“What have you been thinking about?”

 

“So, as we know obviously, alphas have knots.”

 

George nearly fell off the table from laughing. Mick joined in after a moment, and damn , he really had a nice laugh. That was kind of unfair. 

 

“Yes, Mick, alphas have knots. Where are you going with this?”

 

“Do you think they make weird pop sounds when they- uh- you know-” Mick gestured sort of wildly, his ears slowly turning redder and redder. “You know-?”

 

Of all the questions George had been anticipating, this was not one of them. He thought for a moment about whether he really needed to reveal certain information about himself. But, at Mick’s plaintive stare (because while the question came across as funny, it was probably a genuine question), George knew he could not deny him. 

 

“In my experience,” George began looking pointedly away from Mick, “they do not.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s kind of disappointing.” Mick frowned. “Wait, what do you mean in your experience?”

 

“Things happen.” 

 

“Was it Alex?” Oh. Well. George had also not anticipated Mick knowing about his and Alex’s former situationship thing. “Sorry, that was nosy, you don’t have to-”

 

“Yeah. It was Alex.”

 

Mick grimaced, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. He’s happy with Lily now, so.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

They sat in silence for a moment. 

 

“It is kind of disappointing that there’s no weird satisfying pop sound, I’ll admit. I thought there’d be something when, you know, but there was really nothing.”

 

“Was it…at least…good?” 

 

George shrugged. “It was fine. Kind of mid, but what can you do? If you ever decide to try doing that, I’d really recommend not having your first time while the other person is in rut.”

 

Mick looked a bit horrified. George didn’t blame him, because Jesus Christ, why was he oversharing so much. 

 

“Is it possible it was just an Alex thing?” Mick mumbled. 

 

“Uh.” George had not expected Mick to be asking so many questions about this. “Um. I don’t think so.”

 

Mick’s eyes widened.

 

“Moving on!” George exclaimed, praying for a change in subject. Mick had already learned way too much about his sex life, and unfortunately he was learning about what was possibly the worst parts of it. “So I’ve also been thinking.”

 

“Let’s hear it?”

 

“Since we have the same weird smell thing, what the hell does that mean for us? Because I really don’t know how we’re going to navigate this well I think.”

 

“Hmm. I think we’re just going to have to just keep uh, chugging along? Is that right?” George nodded, so Mick continued speaking. “Yes, well, we’re just going to have to keep going with what we’re doing. Obviously we must wear our blockers as to not cause problems, but from there? I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason why we’re so, um, drawn to each other but I don’t think I really understand.”

 

“We’ll figure something out. Do you think maybe we should try and do a scent exposure therapy sorta deal? That way if something happens we don’t totally lose it? But other than that, I also don’t know.”

 

“I don’t like not knowing.” Mick frowned. “I’m used to being in control and seeing everyone else fall apart, and I really don’t think I like this.”

 

“Hey,” George began, unsure what to say to Mick’s confession. It wasn’t like he disagreed. He also didn’t like feeling out of sorts in his body, especially when he was already trying to figure out how the car was working. “We’ll figure it out, okay? I don’t really like it either, but we’ll figure something out for us.”

 

Mick sighed and propped his head up on his hand. George took a breath, leaning against the wall, and suddenly realized something wasn’t right.

 

Mick’s blockers were wearing off, and the faint smell of lemonade was slowly coming back.

 

“So.” Mick leaned against the wall, moving slightly closer to George. “How’s the car?”

 

“Well, the sim is pretty similar to the real thing, so I imagine you can sort of get a feel for yourself. But, that being said, I don’t know how it’ll hold up on Sunday. Like, maybe we can contend with the likes of Ferrari, and maybe even Red Bull, but I don’t think we’re going to know race pace till we get there. Not to mention how fast Alonso’s been, because yeesh , he might just blow right by all of us. But I really don't know. I just hope it’s better than last year, because the porpoising was horrible, though it seems that shouldn’t be a problem this year with the new rules. What do you think?”

 

Mick nodded. “I mean, it’s better than a Haas? I don’t know. I wish I was in the car to see for myself but obviously-” Mick shook his head, looking upset. George tried to ignore how sour Mick’s scent turned, even though it was still rather faint. “I don’t know. I’m glad the porpoising isn’t as much a problem for you and Lewis anymore. It looked painful.”

 

“It was painful. I’m really glad they fixed that because I don’t think I’d survive the year if they didn’t.”

 

“Fair enough.” Mick was quiet for a minute. “You know, I really like working at Mercedes a lot more than I did Haas.”

 

“Oh?” The comment sort of came out of nowhere, but George was happy to hear it nonetheless. “Why?”

 

Mick gave him a very exasperated look. “Do you need a list?”

 

“Hit me.” 

 

“Well, for starters, I do not have to deal with Mazepin?”

 

Well. 

 

Fair enough. 

 

“I also, um, do not know how much I can say, but we did not even have a simulator at Haas. It was very bad. Gunther was not a good boss, though please don’t tell anyone I said that, or it’ll be all over social media, but seriously. Wow. I do not know what else to say, but it was a mess. And the car was shit. But you know how that is.”

 

“Yeah.” George still sometimes woke up in cold sweat because he dreamed about having to drive that god awful Williams. “I do.”

 

“And we weren’t even fighting for points in 2021. But yet, he always kept trying to fucking-” Mick’s smell was getting stronger and stronger, and was really souring. It was not a pleasant smell. Mick took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for my outburst, but you see what I mean? It was all so- so, um-”

 

“Infuriating?” George offered. He made another mental note to never get Mick angry. 

 

“Yes. That. It was infuriating.” 

 

“If it helps at all,” George started, trying to be as gentle as he could. “I know you had a few not-so-great performances. And I know that I, um, may have had a hand in certain unfortunate problems, but know that I know you are a very good and capable driver. I think the way Haas treated you was horrid, and bloody Mazepin…” George swallowed. “Well, I don’t think anyone liked him. But please know that I do think you are a real top-notch driver, and when you come back-”

 

“If.”

 

George ignored him and kept speaking, “-when you come to Formula 1, I hope it is with a team that does not suck balls.”

 

Mick laughed, though he still looked a bit sad. At least the lemon smell was no longer quite so sour. “I didn’t know you weren’t too posh sounding to say the phrase ‘sucks balls’, but I appreciate it.”

 

“Glad to be of help.” Hold on. Wait a second. “Mick.” 

 

“Huh?”

 

“You do not get to speak about posh things.”

 

Mick’s ears turned bright red. “I was trying to make a joke, I’m sorry that was in really, um, poor taste and I-”

 

George sighed. At this rate, he was going to be back in sad sour lemon land again. “Mick.”

 

“Yes? I really am sorry and I can go if-”

 

“Oh, Christ on a fucking cracker. Mick-” George put both of his hands on Mick’s shoulders. “Mick I grew up in the middle of nowhere near Wisbech-” at Mick’s confused expression, he rolled his eyes and continued speaking “-my family’s all farmers. If I didn’t race, I would probably be a farmer right now. I cannot express to you enough that I am not ‘too posh’ to tell someone to suck my balls.”

 

Mick’s face vaguely resembled a tomato. Or perhaps a strawberry, since George liked them better. Either way, his scent was getting more and more distressed, and George really could not deal with that any longer. 

 

“I’m not upset at you, Mick.”

 

Mick nodded, his face still red. “I’m really sorry though, still because I know I come from so much-”

 

“Mick.” 

 

Mick finally met his gaze. 

 

“I am going to give you a hug right now, mate.”

 

Mick’s eyes widened. “Okay.”

 

George scooted over to Mick and pulled him into the most awkward side-hug of his life, and for all of about three milliseconds it seemed fine, but then-

 

But then George realized exactly what position he had put himself in. His chin was definitely brushing over Mick’s scent gland, and that was definitely the cause of the sudden sweetness of Mick’s smell. Because Mick’s scent, apparently, smelled sweeter when-

 

Oh Jesus Christ. 

 

George could barely think anymore, because Mick seriously smelled like the best cup of lemonade anyone could have imagined, and all George wanted to do was just hide in Mick’s neck for the rest of his life. And maybe like, grind against his thigh until he-

 

Woah .

 

He needed to calm down. Now.

 

“Um.” Mick mumbled, completely frozen in George’s grasp. “Oh my god, oh my-” he mumbled something in what sounded like German. “I’m so so sorry, I think my blockers wore off and I-” 

 

His scent, despite the panic in his voice, was only getting sweeter. George squeezed his eyes shut, because he knew he couldn’t trust himself not to look down and confirm what he thought the sweetness in his smell meant, and Mick definitely didn’t want that now, especially since all of this was probably against his will and just a weird scent thing.

 

George really needed to get a grip, but he couldn’t move away from Mick. Not like this. Especially not when he could hear Mick sniffing him. He really hoped his blockers weren’t wearing off, though he wouldn’t have been surprised if how he felt currently was a bit too strong for the blockers to handle.

 

“I need to go now, you have to drive a car, and oh my god, I’m so so sorry- I really am-” 

 

And then Mick was pulling away from him and bolting out of the room, leaving George to fall forward on the massage table next to him. 

 

George blinked and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down a bit. It was difficult though, because all he could think about was how fucking good Mick smelled. After a few minutes though, he was finally able to sit up and think exactly about what he had just done.

 

He was so fucked. 

 

There was no way of skirting around that. 

 

Mick had bolted after he put his chin- his chin directly on that spot , and now he was absolutely horrifyingly, unbelievably fucked. He needed a coffee, a cold shower, and maybe then, everything would be okay. 

 

And it was just his luck, that just as George noticed Mick’s baseball cap sitting on his sofa, someone was knocking on his door. 

 

Thinking it was Mick, either back for his hat or to apologize once again, George opened the door. “It’s alright, Mick, there’s no need to apologize, I-“

 

He stopped as the door opened to a very, very amused Lewis Hamilton. 

 

“Oh. Um. You’re…not Mick?” he stuttered, scratching the back of his head. 

 

“No,” Lewis said. He sort of looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, which was odd because he was the one who had knocked on George’s door. “I just wanted to chat for a minute? Is it alright if I come in?”

 

And well, it wasn’t like George could say no. 

 

He opened the door further and motioned for Lewis to enter. 

 

Lewis stepped into the middle of the room and turned to George, smiling widely. “First, I think congratulations are in order.” 

 

George cocked his head and squinted down at Lewis. “For what? Season has hardly started and we’re already light years behind the Red Bulls.”

 

Lewis rolled his eyes. “No, not that. We have all year to fix that. I wanted to congratulate us on being an all Alpha team.” 

 

He stuck out his hand for George to shake. 

 

George stared at it in shock as he tried to keep his mouth from gaping open like a fish.

 

“Come again?” George tried to speak as clearly as he could but his head was running a mile a minute. Where had Lewis gotten that idea? Who had told him that George was an Alpha? Was he going to sniff him out (literally) as being a Beta? 

 

“I said congratulations to us, for being an all Alpha team,” Lewis repeated, his smile wide. “I haven’t had this since Mclaren.”

 

George blinked. Despite all the thoughts in his head, including that he now knew Jenson’s secondary gender (though that had been somewhat obvious), he could only ask: 

 

“Why are you congratulating me now if we were teammates last year too?”

 

“Well, I didn’t know for sure. You didn’t give me any indication of anything so I didn’t want to pry- especially when I know you use blockers so much.”

 

George really really had no idea what was going on. “I don’t use blockers any more than anyone else, I think.”

 

“I can’t smell you at all, and we’re standing in your driver's room. And that’s really what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

 

Oh God. 

 

Lewis had heard him and Mick poking fun about knots, and now Lewis was going to kill him. Or worse, he was going to give him a weird sex talk. “I didn’t realize you could hear us, and I’m really sorry and I didn’t mean-”

 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to tell anyone. Especially for Mick’s sake, because damn. I would not want to be in his shoes right now. But I just wanted to talk to you, you know, as teammates and hopefully friends, that I think you two are going to be fine.”

Wait. 

 

Lewis thought he and Mick would be fine? He knew about the weird beta scent thing that was going on? George felt himself start grinning because Thank fucking God for Sir Lewis Hamilton. 

 

“So how long have you been, y’know…” Lewis raised his eyebrows. 

 

“We’ve only known for about a week or so- I smelled it on him at testing- so not very long.”

 

Lewis looked a bit like he was going to cry. George had no idea why he looked like that, but he figured pulling Lewis into a hug would fix the problem. Also Lewis was nice to hug, just in general. Once Lewis stepped back from the hug though, he looked a bit more teary-eyed than before. 

 

“Mate, you two go so well with each other, and I didn’t even realize you two talked. When did that even start happening?”

 

“Not too long ago, it was sort of an accidental thing-” because how else was George supposed to describe it “-and we found that it just sort of worked.”

 

“Hm. Well, just remember that there are medical procedures of sorts that can assist in these things if it goes sour, and just remember that Mick probably wants to go back into racing at some point, so just make sure you really think about what’s at stake before you make any rash decisions, okay?”

 

Huh. George didn’t know there were studies done on weird scent bonding things. He’d need to take a look. “I didn’t really think about the other options to be honest, but yeah, I’ll have to take a look at them with Mick, and then I think we’ll go from there.”

 

Lewis nodded. “Well. That’s all I needed to say, but again, congratulations! I’ll have to make us shirts or-”

 

Lewis kept mumbling to himself as he pushed open the door and left, leaving a very confused George behind him. 

 

Somehow, he had a feeling that he and Lewis were not talking about the same things at all.

 

Wait.

 

If Lewis thought that he was an alpha, then there was no way he had been talking about he and Mick’s scent bond thing.

 

If he was not talking about the bond then-

 

Oh God. 

 

What the fuck was Lewis talking about when he was congratulating him and Mick?

 

Did he think that he and Mick were mating?

 

Oh fuck.

 

George grabbed his phone and wrote out a message to Mick, just in case Lewis talked to him about it.

 

Hey mate, I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier. It was totally wrong of me and I know it must have been invasive and stressful, and I know it doesn’t mean much but I swear it was an accident. If you want me to keep my distance, I totally understand and I’ll stay away. That being said, Lewis just came up to me five minutes ago and started congratulating me on being an alpha, and something to do with us. I don’t know what he thinks- quite frankly I’m still a bit out of it from your scent- but if he starts talking to you about us I don’t know what he’s talking about either. Sorry again. ❤️🫂

 

Mick liked his message.

 

George sighed, and flopped back down on the massage table. He needed to get ready for practice 2 soon.

 

He didn’t have time for this.

 

He really missed being in control of himself, and not feeling like this .

 

But it couldn’t be helped.

 

On a whim, he jammed Mick’s hat against his nose, hoping for at least a trace of lemons. Maybe it would calm him down if he was this far gone. 

 

But there was nothing. 

 

And if George cried about it, that was for him only to know. 

Notes:

*lightning mcqueen voice* i. am. speed.

thank u all for reading!!! pls leave a comment (or a kudos) so i feel #motivated to keep writing so fast!!

bonus: if you can correctly guess what lewis thinks is going on, ill shout u out in the reveal chapter ;) also ull have my amusement

Chapter 4: nothing like jacking off to a headband right fellas

Summary:

well. they talk?

Notes:

so reminder that this is marked as explicit. lol lmao. also please note the changes in tags for thoughts of self harm (tho in no way is he doing that) and self hatred !

Realistically Mick knew the whole stupid scent thing was because of his own unfortunate biology. But that didn’t make burying his face into George’s headband from Bahrain like his life depended on it while his other hand stroked up and down his own dick any less of a shameful experience. 

 

Even worse, it wasn’t the first time he had done it. 

 

And the absolute worst part of all of this was the fact that it was so goddamn good .

 

Which is why he found himself sitting on his hotel room bed, one hand down his pants (because all the other times that he had done this he had done it in the bathroom and sniffing George’s headband in the shower and jerking off felt so much less revealing than doing it on the bed he slept on), and the other hand holding the stupid headband. 

 

He hadn’t dared to smell it yet. The scent was fading, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to properly enjoy it until he truly was far too gone to regret what he was doing. And he was reaching that point embarrassingly quick, and just as he was about to come, he brought the headband to his face and-

 

Mick sincerely hoped no one could hear him moan George’s name. 

 

The Earl Gray scent was nearly gone.

 

Mick knew that this was probably the last time he’d be able to get away with this. He told himself he wasn’t disappointed and he tossed the headband in the direction of his suitcase, and pulled his sticky hand out of his pants. Mick sighed. 

 

He needed to shower. 

 

Maybe then he could figure out whatever the hell was wrong with him.

 

The shower, unsurprisingly, did not enlighten him any more than the past ten showers he had taken. And after twenty minutes of standing under the water and barely remembering to clean himself, Mick dragged himself out of the shower. 

 

He stared long and hard at himself in the mirror. 

 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked himself. 

 

His reflection did not have an answer. 

 

Briefly, Mick considered, and not for the first time, ripping out all of his scent glands. But he suspected that that would not solve the problem. And would probably also be painful.

 

Mick doused himself in more blockers than probably strictly necessary and got ready to leave. Really, he only needed to wear the blockers for George. But George really didn’t need to know just how distressed the whole scent ordeal was making him, especially after they hadn’t talked in two weeks. Mick had a terrible suspicion that that was why he had felt so on edge recently, but he didn’t exactly want to test that theory by talking to George. What would he even say? Hey man, sorry that I, a Beta, got so frazzled by having you stick your chin on my scent gland because you were trying to comfort me because I made a bad joke about your upbringing that I had to lock myself in a meeting room and jack myself off into the next century. How have you been? I’ve been okay, other than the fact that I want to rip all my scent glands out and I’ve also been masturbating to your sweaty headband. Anyway, good luck this weekend!

 

That would probably send George into a coma. And despite the fact that Mick really did want to get back in an F1 seat, that was not how he wanted to do it.

 

Still, he hated how he couldn’t seem to get a full night’s sleep, or how his veins constantly felt like they were buzzing under his skin, or how when he stood in the garage all he could think of was where is George? He had spent his whole life training his body to do exactly what he told it to do, and now it was like he had absolutely no control. All because of Earl Gray tea of all things. It was a real punch to the stomach. First he lost his F1 seat, and now he felt like he was living in a body that wasn’t his. 

 

Mick again considered ripping out his scent glands. Surely you didn’t really need those to live. Unless that would do something to George. And he didn’t want George’s career to suffer because he couldn’t figure out how to not be attracted to his scent. 

 

All Mick could do was hope that soon he would be able to get this under control. Because it was starting to get out of control.

 

He could just text George. But they hadn’t even properly been texting. It had just been weird memes that the two of them had sent each other at one in the morning. And frankly, that was also strange. 

 

But what if George was feeling the same kind of weird and unsettled that Mick was? And he was about to get in a car and drive? That was unsafe and Mick definitely wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he somehow fucked up George’s race. 

 

So he walked in aimless circles around the Mercedes hospitality, trying to figure out how to approach the situation while also trying to not look insanely lost. It was still early enough in the day that people were still arriving at the paddock, but he knew George was there, somewhere. He liked to get in early before a race, he had told Mick as such. So why hadn’t he run into him yet? Was something wrong?

 

Mick ducked around another corner, nursing a half drunk cup of Earl Gray tea that was not really helping his buzzing veins in the slightest, trying to avoid the same batch of interns that he had walked past at least four times now when he ran headfirst into something very tall and very solid. 

 

“Crikey, mate, watch where you’re going!” 

 

Tall, solid, and British. That could only be one person. 

 

“I’m sorry, George,” Mick said. “I didn’t see you there.” 

 

“Mick?” George looked down with his big, concerned eyes. “Are you alright?” 

 

Mick nodded. He shifted from foot to foot and tried to ignore that the buzzing in his veins had briefly seemed to have stopped. “I’m good. Sorry.” 

 

“No, it was my fault really, I should have been looking where I was going and-”

 

“George.” 

 

George looked down. It looked like his eyelashes had somehow managed to get thicker in the last twenty seconds. 

 

“I’m really sorry that I-” 

 

“I wanted to apologize for-”

 

Mick stared at George. George stared back. 

 

“You first,” George said gently. He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch Mick’s shoulder, but thought better of it. Mick wished he would. 

 

“I’m really sorry that I ran out a few weeks ago,” Mick said. “And for not apologizing before this.” 

 

“It’s alright,” George said. His gaze was soft but he leaned forward slightly, really making sure that all of his attention was on Mick. Mick wished he could smell him. “I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention.”

 

“I forgive you,” Mick said softly. “Neither of us really know what we’re doing, we’re bound to make some mistakes.” 

 

It was a surprisingly cohesive statement considering that Mick still felt weird as hell and also wanted to push his nose into George’s neck despite the fact that the only scent of Earl Gray in the hallway was coming from Mick’s cup. 

 

“Yeah,” George said. “So do you want to keep going with….?” 

 

“Yes,” Mick said probably too quickly. “If you do as well.”

 

“I do.

 

“Good.”

 

“Good.” 

 

George smiled. All teeth and adoration. Mick forced himself to smile back- though it wasn’t like it was difficult to. 

 

Mick continued to stand there. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to leave or keep standing there. And George kind of looked the same. Mick didn’t really have much else to say. They had cleared the air and it wasn’t like he was about to tell George about the headband incidents of the last two weeks, so he continued to stand there. 

 

George’s eyes lit up suddenly as he playfully whacked himself on the forehead. “Oh! Silly me! I totally almost forgot to tell you that I have your hat. You left it in my driver’s room. Do you want it back?” 

 

Mick had too many hats. He hadn’t actually noticed that this hat had been missing. But he had missed George, in all the wrong ways yes, but he had missed him. And that was why he told George that yes, he would like his hat back and really it wasn’t much of a hardship to follow George to his driver’s room, discreetly toss his tea in a trash can on the way there, sit on the sofa in the corner, and watch George rummage through his various bags to find his hat.

 

It was a good view, at least, and if that didn’t make Mick feel a certain way (a mix of arousal and shame that he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget later), nothing would.

 

At least George seemed to have shoved the hat in a weird spot in his luggage, which led Mick to assume that that meant he had probably been doing unspeakable things with it. It made him feel marginally better about the headband. 

 

“Can I ask you a question and can you be honest?” George asked as he rifled through one of his bags. 

 

Mick froze. Did he know about the headband? Did he not want anything to do with him anymore? Did he think he smelled bad? 

 

“Mick?” 

 

Mick blinked. George looked vaguely concerned. “Hm?” 

 

“Can I ask you a question and can you be honest?” George repeated. “You’re not in trouble,” he added. 

 

That only made Mick’s heart beat faster. He tried not to grip the couch cushions. He didn’t want George to worry, so he forced himself to nod. 

 

George sat down on the floor in front of Mick. It was a weird choice, but there weren’t exactly many places to sit in the room. George took a deep breath.

 

Mick’s chest clenched.

 

“How have you been feeling? Since I last saw you?”

 

It was somehow both worse and better than whatever Mick had been expecting George to ask. 

 

“I’m okay,” Mick said after a minute. 

 

George frowned. “Just okay?” 

 

Well. Mick wouldn’t really classify jacking off to George’s sweaty headband as okay. But it could definitely be worse. “Yeah,” he said. “Just okay.”

 

The answer seemed to stress George out. “Okay,” he finally said. 

 

“Why do you ask?” 

 

“Well,” George leaned back on his hands. “I’ve been having some trouble navigating the scent thing and I was wondering if it was just a me thing or a you thing as well.” 

 

Oh. 

 

“That part has been a little hard,” Mick said, surprising himself. “I want to be around you, or, well, my body wants to be around you, but I wasn’t. So. I didn’t feel great but like it was fine.” 

 

George nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I get what you mean. It’s almost unsettling. Like I don’t know myself at times.” 

 

It was probably bad that George’s admission calmed Mick down slightly. 

 

“I’m sorry though,” Mick said. “It’s probably not good for you, with racing. It’s not great that we have to deal with this and have high pressure jobs.” 

 

“It’s not your fault, Mick,” George said softly. “None of this is either of our faults. But I think it would be better if we tried to figure it out together instead of separating ourselves.”

 

“Okay,” Mick said, relieved. It was nice to be around George again. “You’re not like, turned off by this?” 

 

George shook his head. “If anything it’s nice, you know? I always thought I would end up alone. It’s nice to know that that might not be the case any more.” 

 

Oh. 

 

George gave him a sad smile and Mick was forced to come to the very abrupt realization that it was possible he didn’t actually know anything about George. 

 

“So, I think we need to let eachother into our lives,” George continued. “Like. You don’t need to fuck me or anything, but I think we need to try at least being friends.”

 

“Okay,” Mick said. “Yeah. We can be friends.”

 

George smiled. 

 

Mick smiled back. 

 

Something fluttered in his stomach.

 

He ignored it. 

 

“Oh, here’s your hat,” George said, reaching out to the bag next to him and plucking out the hat. Mick wondered briefly if he had known it was there the whole time. 

 

“Thanks.” He leaned forward to take it, but George was already standing up. He jammed the hat awkwardly on Mick’s head. 

 

“Is, um,” George stuttered. “Is it alright if I hug you?” 

 

Mick nodded. 

 

He stood from the sofa and was immediately wrapped into George’s embrace. Even this felt good. Mick fit perfectly right under his chin, and he could feel George’s strong arms snaking around him. Holding him safe. He forced himself to relax. Even though he couldn’t smell George, it was the most relaxed he had felt in a long while. 

 

“So-” Mick said, stepping away. “What do you like to do when you’re not here? Like, we could do something together? As friends, of course.”

 

“That sounds good. I like a lot of outdoorsy things- taking it slow, getting away from the track- so if you’d want I’d be down for a hike or something? You can take Angie if you want as well.”

 

“A hike sounds like fun! And yes, I just think it depends on where we are in the world for it. I obviously don’t bring her too far away because Angie-” Mick ignored George’s amused smile- “doesn’t like planes and I don’t want to make her sad. But, if it fits with your schedule and we can make it work, I’d really like to bring her if that’s okay with you? Anyway, why are you laughing?”

 

“Is it Angie? Or is it Engie?” George asked, looking downright puzzled, though he was still snickering. 

 

“It’s Angie.” 

 

It was basically the same thing.

 

“Hm. Can you say ‘and’ for me real quick.”

 

Oh. That was what was going on.

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “No.”

 

“Fine, fine. But it is Angie?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

George was staring at him again, once again looking a bit like he was looking into Mick’s soul. Mick was beginning to think that maybe George was just like that with everyone, though that couldn’t be right because he’d never seen him look at anyone else with such…affection.

 

It was weird.

 

It was weird though in a way that made Mick feel kind of floaty. And he really didn't have time to unpack that. 

 

Instead he looked down at his watch. He didn’t need to be anywhere for at least another hour, but George did not need to know that. 

 

“Well, I have to start go getting ready,” Mick said, adjusting his hat. “I’ll see you later?”

 

George smiled. “Yes. Yes, definitely. Later.” He opened the door for Mick, who stepped out and was immediately, and literally accosted by Lewis Hamilton. 

 

“Oh good,” Lewis said, a tight smile on his face. “I caught you both.” 

 

“Pardon?” Mick said. Somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely remembered George texting him that he had had a weird conversation with Lewis about something. 

 

“First, Mick, I wanted to extend my congratulations.”

 

What the fuck? 

 

He and Lewis had not really spoken to each other much during the start of the season. So maybe he meant about the reserve driver position? Though Mick wasn’t sure what there was to be particularly congratulated about. 

 

“Thank you,” Mick still said, trying to sound normal and like he knew what Lewis was talking about. “Though it’s not really an ideal situation.” 

 

Lewis’s face fell. “I mean, yeah. But I hope you’re making the most of it. And George is a good guy, he’ll help you out for sure.” 

 

Mick flicked his gaze to George. George looked equally, if not more lost. 

 

“Yeah,” Mick said. “George has been a big help so far. It’s still a little stressful though. Lots of hours in the sim and all that.” 

 

Lewis’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out and grab Mick’s shoulder or his hand or something. But he didn’t. 

 

“Well,” Lewis said, tone suddenly entirely serious. “You need to make sure that you’re listening to your body and taking breaks. Especially if you feel sick or tired or anything. Your health is important, though I’m sure George has already told you that.” 

 

Mick blinked. What the hell was Lewis on about? “I mean…it’s my job?” Mick said. “I don’t mind doing it and doing overtime and everything if it means you all have a car that’s drivable.” 

 

“But you also need to listen to yourself,” Lewis practically begged. “We want you to be safe.” 

 

Did Lewis give this lecture to all of the new reserve drivers? “I mean, like I told George it's obviously better than Haas. They would not have given me so many breaks and food and such. There’s already a lot less yelling so as long as like, no one starts telling the press about how much they hate my family I don’t think it can be too bad. I can handle a little stress.” 

 

Mick realized when he saw the concern creasing Lewis’s brow and felt George’s hand very lightly on his lower back that he might have overshared slightly. 

 

“Well,” Lewis finally said. “Just because you can handle something doesn’t mean you should have to. And I’m also here, if you need anything. And so is Nico. We know what it’s like.” 

 

A little strange, but then again what hadn’t been strange recently. 

 

“Thanks,” Mick said, trying to sound sincere. 

 

“Everything’s been okay so far though?” Lewis asked. “No problems?” 

 

“Well, everything takes a little getting used to at the beginning of the season,” Mick said.  “Especially the flying, but I’m sure I just need a few more weeks to get used it it again, obviously. And the new team, but you have all been great so far.” 

 

“Is the flying making you nauseous? Have you been feeling sick?”

 

Mick cocked his head to the side. “I mean, a little, but that’s cause I’m not used to it yet.” 

 

“Well, I have pepto bismol if you need it,” Lewis said. “Nico and I didn’t think of that the first time, but it did help for awhile.” 

 

“Okay,” Mick had pepto bismol. He wasn’t sure what made Lewis’s any different.

 

“Seriously, I’m here if you need anything. Literally anything. No questions asked,” Lewis said as he shut the door to his driver’s room again. 

 

George took one look at him and pointed back at his own driver’s room, a question on his face. 

 

Mick nodded. 

 

Once the two of them were shut firmly in George’s room, George took out his phone. 

 

A second later Mick’s phone dinged. 

 

What the hell??? Did you know he and Nico were together???

 

Mick rolled his eyes. 

 

yes. my dad had to deal with their shit all the time apparently. theyve been mated forever. 

 

But what about their feud???

 

i don't know! i more want to know what the hell lewis was talking about? does he think we’re mated or something? i thought he was talking about me being a reserve driver but i think that i might be wrong about that.

 

I have no idea. I think he assumed that we were at least together last time. And he thinks that I am the alpha….

 

why does everyone think that i am submissive and breedable?

 

George let out a very loud bark of laughter. 

 

Mick punched him in the arm. 

 

Do you want me to ask him why he thinks that?

 

Mick threw his hat at George. 

 

i don’t need to know why sir lewis hamilton thinks im submissive and breedable thanks 

 

I didn’t think so

 

should we ask him what he thinks we’re getting up to? or should we just let it happen?

 

I think its best if we don't ask

 

“I’m glad you agree,” Mick said out loud. “Cause whatever it is, I really don’t want to know.” 

 

George nodded. “We can correct him when the time comes.” 

 

Mick nodded. It was awkward. He needed to get out of here. 

 

“Well,” he said, picking up his hat from the floor. “I’m sure you have things you need to do, so, good luck in the race today. And I’ll see you later?” 

 

George nodded. “See you later. Maybe I’ll even bring you some pepto bismol.” 

 

Mick laughed. It was natural, light, and felt weirdly good. 

 

He shut the door to George’s driver’s room. The lightness evaporated out of his chest once he remembered why he was in this predicament in the first place. If his body didn’t want to be so close to George all the time, would he still want to be friends with him? Would he still tolerate George making fun of how he said his own dog’s name? Would he laugh at his stupid pepto bismol joke? 

 

Mick walked down the hallway, away from George. Every step he took filled him with more doubts. He just wanted to go back to being normal. 

Notes:

keep commenting keep reading ily all ur all wonderful and im very pleased at the amount of people seeing the mick/george vision pls for the love of god someone help me build this tag up its just me and that coffeeshop au and the seb/mick/lewis/george writer , the sick fic post 2023 and like two others in the trenches pls

also pls know im not making fun of mick. but how the fuck do u pronounce his dogs name . because he also does not say and with an 'an' sound and im not sure if its actually pronounced the way he says it or he cannot pronounce his dogs name. send help

Chapter 5: are you ready for the spiders

Summary:

um. yeah! they go on a hike!!!

sorry everyone in australia . i know your spiders arent necessarily dangerous but im still scared of them

Notes:

so. :)

If you had told George six years ago that he would make it to Formula 1, be teammates with none other than Sir Lewis Hamilton, be maybe scent compatible with Mick Schumacher, and find himself in a rental car listening to Mick Schumacher sing along (not even horribly) to “Tennessee Whiskey” while they drove through Australia, the thing he would be most surprised about would be the “Tennessee Whiskey.”

 

Actually, no. He would be most surprised about the scent thing. But he was trying not to think about that.

 

He and Mick had decided to go for a hike, or at least an adventure of some sort, ahead of the Australian Grand Prix. Everyone thought they were there slightly early to get adjusted to the time zone, which wasn’t untrue, But they had ulterior motives. 

 

The ulterior motives were to see if they could be friends outside of talking about cars, weird alpha and omega things and hanging out in George’s driver’s room. And the scents. Because as much as George didn’t want to be destined to a life of loneliness with a collection of vintage Mercedes cars as his only companion, he also wanted to know that he was attracted to Mick as a person and not just as a smell. Because that would be kind of embarrassing.

 

Not that he and Mick were even destined to be together or anything. Because Betas didn’t get that. But the more time he spent with Mick, and the more embarrassing and far too revealing google searches he did about scents and smells and mates at obscene hours of the night, the more he thought that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. 

 

He didn’t want to get his hopes up though. Because the whole thing was still clearly a very touchy subject with Mick. He smelled like absolutely nothing. Almost like a void. Like he didn’t want to risk sweating off his blockers even when they inevitably started to sweat off when they went for their hike. 

 

George tried not to be disappointed about it. 

 

Because he needed Mick to be more than just a comforting smell to him. He needed Mick to be a friend and someone he could turn to and someone he could trust. 

 

But that was a lot of pressure to put on one hike. On one day. George tried to not get too ahead of himself. 

 

But it was also hard not to when Mick was leaning back in his seat, finally devoid of tension, and singing softly. Probably soft enough that he thought George couldn’t hear him. 

 

George couldn’t help but hope. Because that was all he had right now. 

 

“I’ve looked for love in all the same old places,” Mick mumbled along. His voice wasn’t insanely good, but it was on key and far better than George’s ever could be. “Found the bottom of the barrel’s always dry.” 

 

And then he turned slightly and clearly caught George watching him because the tips of his ears turned bright red and he clamped his mouth shut. 

 

George tried to tell himself it meant nothing. He did not succeed. 

 

“Aren’t you German?” George asked, trying to make Mick relax again. He wasn’t sure if it worked.

 

“Yes?” Mick’s ears were still bright red, and the flush on his face was growing pinker and pinker. “Did you forget?”

 

“No. I’m just wondering because, well, the music-”

 

“George, not all Germans listen to yodeling.” Mick rolled his eyes. “Or polka. Polka isn’t even German.”

 

“Yeah, but this is like…yeehaw music.”

 

“Hm.” Mick started fiddling with his phone. The song changed and-

 

A flurry of drums began playing. 

 

“You’re not-” George sighed. “I don’t listen to ‘God Save the Queen’ daily!”

 

“So every other day, then?”

 

“No! Not at all! Besides, she's dead!”

 

“My condolences.” Mick paused and turned down the volume. “So do you listen to it before, during, or after you brush your teeth?”

 

At least Mick thought he brushed his teeth. That was probably a good thing. 

 

“I’m not encouraging this bit any longer.” 

 

“Is it because you listen to it on loop? Is that all you listen to? Is that why you haven’t given me any music recommendations?”

 

Jesus, Mick was persistent. 

 

George didn’t know what he had expected. 

 

“Mick, if you don’t turn off this music, I’ll personally…” George tried to think of a threat. Hm. He was in Australia. What was threatening in Australia? 

 

Oh. 

 

Right. 

 

Australia had snakes. Those were probably scary. 

 

“If I don’t you’ll what?” Mick grinned, looking proud of himself. “God Save the Queen” started playing over again. 

 

“I’ll put snakes in your bed.”

 

“Cool.” Mick was completely unbothered. “I like snakes.”

 

Fuck.

 

What else was there in Australia?

 

Oh. Spiders. Wasn’t Mick scared of those?

 

“I’ll put spiders in your shoes. Really hairy ones. And they’ll like eat you or something.”

 

Mick looked significantly less triumphant and changed the song. It was quiet enough where George wasn’t sure what was playing. 

 

“So, not a fan of spiders?” George teased. 

 

“Shush. They’re just so creepy and they have too many legs.”

 

“And they’re like 1/83 of your size. They won’t hurt you.” Unless they were poisonous. But George thought it was probably better to not mention that. 

 

“Have you seen some of the ones down here they-” Mick trailed off, as the song got louder when he accidentally bumped the volume button on his phone. 

 

“Skin” by Rihanna was playing. Loudly. 

 

George really wished that Mick wasn’t wearing an obscene amount of blockers because he really wanted to know if this was enough to prompt the same sugary smell from the hug incident. He also really hoped his blockers were still intact. He didn’t know if his scent would give him away, but…

 

“So, spiders?”

 

Mick seemed to recover from his brief moment of embarrassment, turned down the volume, changed the song, and continued speaking. “The spiders here are massive! Like the size of my hand-” Mick held his hand open at George. His hand was fucking massive. They were possibly larger than George’s were. He gripped the steering wheel just a bit tighter. “Obviously spiders shouldn’t be so big!”

 

“Well. If we come across any, I’ll save you from them.” 

`

“Thank you.” Mick sounded so sincere in his gratitude, George had no choice but to promise himself that he’d remove any spiders in Mick’s vicinity if he saw them. 

 

Wait. 

 

“Mick. We’re going on a hike. We’re going to be walking all about the woods.”

 

“Yeah, and?”

 

“ Blimey , Mick-” George ignored Mick’s snort of laughter. He wouldn’t be laughing much longer once he realized what George had just realized. “Mick, mate, you realize we are in bloody spider land right?”

 

Mick stopped laughing. He looked a bit pale. 

 

“Are you going to be alright to hike?”

 

Mick turned up the volume on the car. It was not an answer. 

 

“I’ll protect you from the spiders, I promise.”

 

“Thanks, I guess.”

 

“Kiss It Better" by Rihanna started playing. 

 

George was very familiar with that song. 

 

Mick skipped it. 

 

Another song began, it sounded a bit strange, but George was enjoying himself. It had that weird, funky techno beat that Mick seemed to like. 

 

And then there was the first line. 

 

“I’ll be the boyfriend in your wet dreams tonight-”

 

Mick skipped it. His face was bright red. 

 

George raised an eyebrow. Was Mick trying to signal something to him?

 

Maybe he was because “Centerfold” by the J. Giles Band began playing. 

 

George took the opportunity to blast it and start yelling the words as best he could, which granted, was pretty bad, but if Mick was really that desperate to get…

 

Well. George didn’t want to think about that, not when he had a very flushed Mick Schumacher sitting next to him finally singing along. 

 

He tried not to think about Mick in a centerfold. 

 

He did not succeed. 

 

He gripped the steering wheel a bit harder. 

 

“What’s a centerfold anyway?” Mick asked. “Is it like a card? Like an advertisement page?”

 

Oh God.

 

“Jesus Christ.” George groaned. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“It’s-” George started, gripping the steering wheel tighter somehow. “Well you know porn magazines right?”

 

Mick’s eyes widened. They were lucky they were stuck at a traffic light or George probably would’ve crashed the car because he was too busy watching Mick’s expressions to drive. 

 

“Yes. I’m familiar.” Mick choked out. “Not that I’ve read them obviously or like own them or anything like that-”

 

George was definitely not convinced that Mick had not read porn magazines. He really tried not to think further on the subject, like what Mick looked at, or really what Mick looked like when he-

 

“So are you just bringing up porn magazines for no reason, or?” Mick interrupted his train of thought. Thank god.

 

“It’s a nude photo in the middle of a porn magazine. Because the fold covers all the uh… bits?”

 

Mick was quiet for a second. When he finally spoke, it was clearly to himself. “Huh. I always wondered if they had a name.” 

 

Well. Now George was definitely not convinced Mick didn’t own porn magazines. George paused the song as Mick buried his face in his hands. 

 

“Can I request a song?” George asked, hoping that maybe he’d be able to redirect the conversation to a place that didn’t make him hard. 

 

“Sure. What song?”

 

Fuck. George hadn’t thought that far. 

 

What was a deeply unsexy song that he couldn’t possibly be horny to?

 

Oh. 

 

He really hoped that Mick didn’t think his taste in music was horrible after this. 

 

“‘Rockstar’ by Nickelback?” 

 

Mick lifted his head out of his hands. “Seriously?”

 

“It’s fun!”

 

“Fine. Okay.”

 

George rolled down the windows and started singing. Loudly. And more off key than strictly necessary. 

 

Mick was not singing. 

 

Mick actually looked rather embarrassed. 

 

That was what he got for making George explain what a centerfold was. 

 

“Don’t you know this one?” George asked. 

 

“No?” Mick frowned. “Not really.” 

 

“Isn’t this like…yeehaw music though?” 

 

Mick groaned. “Nickelback is not yeehaw music! They do not sound remotely country! They sound like they swallowed a container of marbles! There is a difference!” 

 

“I don’t hear it,” George said, just to mess with him. 

 

“I’ll make you a playlist of yeehaw music so you are at least educated in what it is, okay?” 

 

A shiver ran down George’s spine. “Y-yeah. Okay. Super.” 

 

Mick gave him a weird look, but then the chorus came back on and Mick at least pretended to indulge George’s bad singing again. 

 

Thankfully, once that was over, they had arrived at the trail. So George did not have to tolerate any more music from Mick.

 

They both got out of the car. There weren’t many other cars in the lot. They had come early on purpose to avoid seeing other people. George looked around, taking note of the fact that there didn’t seem to be too many actual real live mountains nearby. He hadn’t picked the destination- that had been Mick’s job- and living in suspense was a bit nerve-wracking. A little part of George’s brain reminded him that if it had been literally anyone else, he would never have trusted them to choose a destination and let it be a surprise. That little part was terrified of the unknown, of what lay ahead, and (despite how literal it was) George sincerely hoped there was at least a real path in front of him. 

 

At least Mick was smiling at him. 

 

“This is the mystery place you wanted to take me?” George asked. “It’s quite pretty, but are there trails? Like real trails, not just mountains?”

 

“Yes! Of course, I figured you wouldn’t want to be trekking through the mountains right before a race. Because obviously, it would be very bad if you hurt an ankle or something, and as much as I want a seat, I’d rather be racing against you than without you or anything. But yes, there is a path and it should be very pretty and nice and not have too many hills.”

 

George was, once again, reminded of how thoughtful Mick was. 

 

“I must say I’m excited. Are you ready to face the spiders?”

 

Mick’s smile dropped. “You said you’d protect me from them.”

 

“I said I’d try . Besides, it’s not my fault you’re short and the spiders seem much bigger to you.”

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “I’m not that much shorter than you.”

 

George, for probably the first time in three years, tried to stand up as tall as possible. He stared down at Mick. Mick’s ears were bright red again. 

 

George really really kind of wanted to bend down and kiss him. But they were in public, and just trying to be friends, just friends didn’t kiss and-

 

Well. Just friends didn’t usually have weird obsessions with each other's scents.

 

Just friends didn’t wake up after having rather unfortunate dreams feeling a bit off. 

 

Just friends didn’t picture the other in fucking centerfolds. 

 

George swallowed and met Mick’s gaze. He really, sincerely, wished that Mick had ditched the blockers. 

 

“So-” Mick mumbled, stepping back. “Are you ready for the, um, hike?”

 

“Are you?” 

 

Mick’s face flushed again. It made his eyes only look bluer. “Yes, I’m ready.”

 

“Then let’s get going.”

 

That of course posed a problem. Because George wasn’t sure if he was supposed to walk next to Mick or in front of him to look for spiders or behind him. He eventually decided on next to him, but then had to jam his hands into his pockets so that he didn’t do something stupid like accidentally grab Mick’s hand when Mick had so purposefully avoided touching him all day so far. And then there was also the problem of the fact that George was much taller than Mick (no matter what Mick claimed) so he had to purposefully walk slightly slower than he would have wanted to keep up with him. 

 

And once he had figured out all of that, George was right back where he started. Absolutely gone for Mick Schumacher. 

 

He kept sneaking little glances at Mick, who was excitedly pointing out different kind of trees and birds and the view and this and that and a million other things that George was not paying attention to because he was too busy being distracted by how Mick’s hair bounced every time he took a step and how his eyes lit up every time they passed someone walking a dog and he asked very politely if he could pet it and how he kept glancing back to see if George was having a good time. 

 

George was having a good time. He was just watching Mick. Which was exactly how he ended up in the mud. 

 

It wasn’t really his fault. Mostly. He had just not noticed his shoelace coming untied because Mick was telling him about his dearly beloved Angie, and how she liked to tear apart tennis balls or something so George could never bring her one- and he had been listening to him as intently as possible until he suddenly found himself tripping down the path, skidding down a small hill, and landing directly in a puddle.

 

At least it hadn’t hurt anything but his ego. 

 

“Are you okay?” Mick cried, running after George frantically. “Did you get hurt at all? Oh-”

 

Mick then proceeded to start rambling in German. George had no idea what the hell he was saying. 

 

“I’m okay, Mick. Just a bit covered in mud.”

 

“Okay, good because-” Mick froze. He was staring at something next to George. “George.” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“George-” Mick’s voice was slightly shaking. “Spider.”

 

George looked at the ground next to him. 

 

There was a spider. It was rather large. George stood up and calmly tried to poke it with his foot. 

 

It started running at Mick, who screamed , and took off running in the opposite direction back up the hill that George had slid down. 

 

George watched him go for a moment then turned to the spider. “Please leave us alone.”

 

The spider, as expected, was quiet. 

 

It was exactly what George had hoped for. He seriously could not deal with talking spiders. The world was already strange enough.

 

He turned and slowly marched up the hill, where he found Mick sitting on the ground, also covered in mud. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I slipped.” 

 

George tried to hold back his laughter, but he soon was no longer able to because Mick was truly covered in mud. From his shoes to his (pretty) blonde hair, he had splotches of mud on him. 

 

“At least help me up if you’re going to laugh at me!” 

 

“Fine, fine, fine.” George wheezed, still trying to stop laughing. He walked over to Mick, his hand outstretched, just waiting for Mick to take his hand in his when-

 

He was being yanked down on top of Mick. 

 

And now Mick was laughing. 

 

It was the first time he had touched Mick properly since the hug incident and it unfortunately felt just as good as it had then. George stared down at Mick, grinning at the wide smile across his face, and how relaxed he seemed to be, and how everything seemed to be going perfectly to plan and also not at all, but Mick was here and he was laughing and-

 

“George,” Mick breathed. He was no longer laughing. Instead, he was staring up at George from his position on the ground, head slightly raised in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable but was definitely to prevent more of his head from going in the dirt. George made the fairly obvious choice to slip his hand behind his head to save him the effort. 

 

His hair was soft. 

 

George leaned in slowly, staring down at Mick’s lips. He knew he was being obvious, but Mick was also looking at his lips and-

 

“Can I?” George whispered, worried that any loud sound would break the moment. 

 

Mick nodded. 

 

Their lips finally met. 

 

It was all George had ever wanted. 

 

And very, very faintly, he smelled lemonade.

Notes:

the song that mick skips at the end is self-control by frank ocean. bc as we all know mick schumacher listens to the strangest assortment of music.

anyway! they kissed! how r we feeling morge nation? leave a comment and a kudos and ill love u forever and ever

Chapter 6: What happened to being just friends? ;)

Summary:

once again mind the tags!!!

Notes:

<3 most of this was written while i had yellow by coldplay stuck in my head. so. gl!

George’s lips were just as soft as they looked. 

 

That was Mick’s first thought. 

 

His second was holy shit I am kissing George Russell. 

 

His third was that while George’s lips were soft, they were also very chapped and Mick definitely needed to get him some chapstick. Not like a courting gift, or whatever, but like, just as a friends gift or a gift to himself so he didn’t hurt George or something. 

 

But all of that was really just eclipsed by the fact that he was kissing George Russell in a fucking mud puddle in Australia, and he was enjoying every second of it. He couldn’t even find it in himself to feel guilty about it because George had clearly asked and had clearly also wanted it and there was no way this was because of the scent thing because Mick had put on nearly half a bottle of blockers that morning. 

 

But honestly, what did that matter anyway? George freaking Russell’s stupid long, dainty fingers were tangling in his hair, tickling his scalp, sending shivers down his spine, and pulling him closer. Closer against his lips. He could feel George’s eyelashes on his face, and Mick only wanted him closer and closer and-

 

George’s teeth were on his lip, gently nibbling at him in a way that made Mick see stars. 

 

He moaned. He couldn’t help it, nor did he particularly care about being quiet. Not when George was fucking kissing him. 

 

George laughed, pulling back.

 

Mick wished he hadn’t. 

 

“You like that?”

 

George’s eyes twinkled in the early morning sun, there was a speck of mud on his cheek and the tumble he had taken down the hill had disturbed his perfect quiff. His hair was curling just slightly. He was still holding Mick’s head, keeping it out of the dirt. 

 

The air around them smelled like mud, earth, nature, and underneath it all, a trace of Earl Gray tea. Mick almost regretted putting on so much of his blockers. 

 

Mick nodded. “Do it again.” 

 

And so George did. 

 

The second time was somehow even better than the first. George’s hand slid down his neck and cupped his chin, drawing him closer and holding him like he was something precious. 

 

Mick caught a whiff of Earl Gray from the scent gland on George’s wrist. If he hadn’t already been on the ground he would have fallen over. 

 

Geroge pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, then to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the tip of his nose before joining their foreheads together. 

 

Mick still had his eyes closed, but he felt George shudder against him. 

 

“ Blimey. ” 

 

Now it was Mick’s turn to laugh. “You’re really going to say ‘blimey’ after a kiss like that and expect me to believe that you don’t listen to ‘God Save the Queen’ on a regular basis?”

 

“Oh piss off,” George pulled away but he reached a hand down to help Mick up. Mick didn’t need help, but he accepted it anyway. “I don’t need our first kiss to be tainted by the Queen of England.”

 

Mick brushed himself off. “Don’t be silly. Our first kiss was untainted. It was the second one.” 

 

“Bloody hell you’re impossible,” George said. “C’mon, let’s go before more spiders come and get us.” 

 

At the mention of spiders Mick nearly bolted back to the car, leaving George laughing behind him. 

 

Then he realized that there would be no one to protect him from the spiders, should another one appear, so he slowed down, sulking only a little as he waited for Geroge. 

 

“What’s the matter?” Geroge called as he got closer to Mick. “Did you find another spider?”

 

Mick shook his head. He really hoped that nothing had crawled into his pants when he had fallen on the ground. He shook his right leg, then his left leg, out in front of him just to make sure. George was snickering. It was almost cute. 

 

“You owe a lot to that spider, you know,” George said, falling into step with him. “It gave us our first kiss.”

 

“You don’t think we would have kissed without the interference of a spider?” Mick asked. “I’m almost insulted.” 

 

“I’m sure it would have happened eventually,” George said, sounding pleased. “I think we’re done with our hike though. I’m a bit muddy for my liking.”

 

Mick nodded. “Maybe we won’t go hiking again next time.” 

 

“There’s going to be a next time?”

 

Mick bumped his shoulder against George. It barely hit his upper arm. “If you want there to be.”

 

“Yeah,” George said. “I think I would like that.” 

 

Mick smiled. 

 

They were nearing the parking lot now. 

 

“Too bad we didn’t bring spare clothes,” George said. 

 

“What?” Mick smirked. “You don’t like being covered in mud?” 

 

“Not particularly.”

 

“You could always drive shirtless,” Mick said, getting into the car. “Not like we all haven’t seen that before.” 

 

George rolled his eyes and waited until they had both shut their doors before responding. 

 

“Yes,” he said. “But we agreed to try being friends. I don’t think friends drive each other around with their shirts off.”

 

Mick wisely didn’t point out that he and Esteban had done just that at least half a dozen times. “So if we hadn’t agreed to try being friends, you would’ve wanted my shirt off?”

 

George winked at him. “I didn’t say I don’t want that.”

 

“Well,” Mick unbuckled his seatbelt and began stripping his shirt off. “I cannot stand this mud anymore.”

 

George ogled not-so-subtly at his chest. Mick tried his hardest not to blush. After a moment of staring, Mick cleared his throat. George’s gaze snapped back up to Mick’s face, though his face was slightly flushed. 

 

“What happened to being just friends?”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with appreciating what I’m seeing. Besides, friends only don’t touch each other.”

 

“Friends also don’t typically kiss each other though,” Mick mumbled, his voice lowering. 

 

Geroge was quiet. He started the car quickly, his eyes ahead on the road in front of them.

 

Unease started to settle in Mick’s bones. “George?” 

 

“Hm?”

 

“Did you not like it?” Please don’t say no. Please don’t say no. Please-

 

“No. No it was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” George said casually, entirely unaware that Mick’s stomach was filling with butterflies. “But I want to know that I like you and not just how you smell. Because I think I really like you,” Geroge whispered, voice thick. “And I don’t want to be crushed if the scent thing- if we’re not- if it means nothing.” 

 

Mick nodded. “Yeah.“ He knew the statistics. The odds that they were scent compatible was basically zero. Betas didn’t get that. “I think I really like you too.”

 

George smiled though the tears glazing over his blue eyes. “Thank god, otherwise that would have been awkward.”

 

George’s hand reached across the console to rest gently on Mick’s thigh. Mick almost forgot to breathe. 

 

“So what does that make us?” Mick asked, fearing the answer. 

 

“I think,” George considered. “I think we need to see if we like each other as people and not as smells.”

 

Mick had been afraid of that. “So blockers?” 

 

“Yeah.” At least George sounded disappointed too. 

 

“And what about kissing?” 

 

A small smile tugged at George’s lips. “I think we can be friends that kiss.” 

 

“Can we be friends that kiss right now?” 

 

George laughed and pulled Mick back in for another kiss, far sloppier than the ones earlier, but just as good. 

 

George’s hand didn’t move from Mick’s thigh the entire ride back. 

 

It was so close, yet so far from the casual intimacy Mick wanted. 

 

They left the car together- after Mick put his shirt back on of course- and George walked Mick back to his hotel room. He kissed him there, in the doorway, then walked down the hallway as if everything was normal. Mick watched him walk away, then let the door slam behind him as he turned back into the room. He needed a shower. 

 

A long, hot, shower, where maybe Mick could delude himself into thinking someone was holding him. He made himself a cup of Earl Gray tea before finally stripping off his muddied clothes and climbing into the shower. He ran the water as hot as he could stand (which ended up being a temperature that definitely burned his skin but wasn’t too enough to make him leave), sat down on the floor of the shower and cried. 

 

He knew he loved George. He knew George loved him back. 

 

Their scents- well, their scents were weird, but it wasn’t impossible that they could be perfectly compatible and destined for each other like almost every single other person in the world had. But he was a Beta and he knew growing up he was probably going to be alone, and maybe he’d fall in love with someone, but really he’d have no one destined for him, and he had wished then that he would have this but-

 

But now it seemed he did. 

 

And the worst part was that even if he and George loved each other with or without the stupid scent thing, even if they had that and they were scent compatible, what would that mean for them? They couldn’t mate. They couldn’t be bonded, and no matter how much they loved each other they’d never have that connection. 

 

Hell, they’d never even have fucking legal protection. 

 

If anything happened to George on the race course, and he needed medical treatment, and it was dire, and even if George was dying, only his family would be allowed in. 

 

Mick would be forced to sit outside, and he’d be left alone. 

 

The water was turning his skin a harsh red now, and his tea, forgotten in the bedroom, was definitely oversteeped. It wasn’t enough to convince him to leave the shower just yet, so there he stayed, until the alarm he’d set that morning rang out, reminding him to get ready for another day of watching everyone else live the life he should’ve had. 

 

He turned the shower off, small patches of skin peeling off on his arms and legs, his hair half-washed, and feeling worse than he would’ve if he had just stayed in bed. Mick downed the cup of Earl Gray tea and imagined the smell was George getting ready for the day just around the corner from him. He slipped on his team shirt, and wished it was George’s. He forced a fake smile upon his face, rubbed his blockers on harshly- no one else but George could smell him so it didn’t particularly matter while he was just doing basic menial tasks alone- and grabbed his things. 

 

On his way out, he grabbed George’s headband.

Even if it didn’t smell like him anymore, it was still his, and as silly as it was to be jealous of a headband, Mick kind of wished that he could also be George’s. But that wasn’t possible, so the headband went into his pocket, and his wishful thinking was ignored and shoved back from the front of his mind. 

 

It still wasn’t enough to rid Mick of the memory of George’s lips on his, and the ghost of his hand on his thigh. 

Notes:

you didn't think id just let them be together easily, right?

the slow burn tag is there for a REASON.

Chapter 7: lancarcargan drama?? and other things that confuse georgie porgie

Notes:

once again mind the tags. actually. if uve gotten this far ur probably fine but yk how it is
also were finally getting some beta lore dump.

if ur confused: so is george. he doesnt know jack shit either. ull find out as the story progresses !

Despite his P2 in qualifying, George still couldn’t help but feel dreadfully melancholy on his way back to the hotel. Maybe it was the fact that he’d only seen Mick once- and been half-heartedly waved at- and now George couldn’t help but feel terribly abandoned. Mick had been busy doing work for the team, George told himself, but deep down he knew that it was all related to their stupid kiss. A stupid kiss that he replayed fifty times over in his head while he tried and failed to shower his misery away.

 

He hadn’t been lying when he said it was the best kiss of his life- and that included kissing Alex - who he had spent many nights praying to whatever God that existed that he’d be the one. But he wasn’t, and it had taken years for George to get over the fact that his stupid, awful Earl Gray scent would never stand out against Alex’s supposedly deep honey smell. George had never been able to properly smell it. Because he was a beta. He had hoped that by volunteering to help Alex through his rut would kick his body into finally presenting- and yes it might have been hard if he had ended up being an Alpha- but being a Beta was so so so much worse. 

 

If smelling Alex was difficult for him (which it was), smelling George’s scent was almost impossible for Alex. He’d never be able to be properly courted or do whatever traditions there were. 

 

He had lied when he told Mick that being with Alex in rut was fine. 

 

It had been the single most miserable experience of his life, and not because it physically hurt (Alex was surprisingly gentle, as it turned out), but because it was the last time George had been able to hope that he was normal. But he wasn’t. 

 

And supposedly, that was okay. As far as any of his friends knew, he was okay with that.

 

(It was not, but no one needed to know, least of all Alex. There was a reason he hadn’t told him about the Mick situation.)

 

Tonight he needed a distraction from all of that. But there was none he could think of. Jerking off would just make him more miserable and his sleep would probably be filled with unpleasant dreams as usual. 

 

George sighed as he stared at himself in the mirror, wet hair falling in his face. 

 

Hair. 

 

Hadn’t Mick said something about his hair? Back during testing?

 

Yes. He had said that he liked when it curled. 

 

George pulled out his phone. There was only one person who was more miserable than him who might know how to style curly hair.

 

Charles.

 

????????????

 

I think I’m having a crisis. 

 

Fuck, that sounded too serious. He decided to send a thumbs-up emoji after it to show that everything was fine. 

 

It was not, but Charles didn’t need to know that. Yet. George decided that telling Charles about his issues would be the best thing he could do, as Charles was already (somehow) mated and would be able to give decent advice. 

 

did you get someone pregant.

**pregnant

I cannot help you with that if you did that is your own problem

wait. 

are YOU pregnant

 

Charles I literally cannot get anyone (or even myself!) pregnant. 

 

George was really not sure how Charles forgot that all Betas were pretty much unable to have kids without consulting several medical professionals. 

 

oh ya lol

sorry

whats the issue 

 

Well, someone I’m interested in likes my hair curly

That is

A problem

 

oh

wait

whooooo 😘😘😘

you must tell me or else

 

Or else what? You’ll tell Max on me?

 

🔪🔪🔪

 

How helpful.

 

But Charles, your mom is a hairdresser right???

 

oh

ohhhhh hoho

your trying to 🥰😍😘😘😘😘🥰

👉👌👌

i will help of course but only for a price

 

Charles we’re multimillonaires. 

How much do you need?

 

ooo no not money i just wanna know who is it for

so i can suit their interests and give u good advice

and max wants to know of course

 

And this is the only way you will help me?

 

🤪

 

George sighed. If this is seriously what it took to have better hair…

 

You cannot tell anyone. Including Max

 

boo

 

I’m serious, Charles

If you tell anyone else I will never trust you with things like this again.

 

fine fine fine

🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝

i wont tell

 

Swear it, Charles. I mean it.

 

i swear on rosso corsa ferrari all things red the beautiful country of italy etc

 

Good.

Wait what about your current car?

 

this shit sucks ass mate. id give it away for one chip.

 

Oh. Well…sorry?

But if you tell anyone, it could ruin his life too. So please don’t tell anyone.

 

god

yea i got it your so dramatic

but yes i wont tell anyone

 

It’s Mick.

 

Charles took a minute to respond, the typing bubble popping up then disappearing after a few moments. It didn’t help the overwhelming stress he felt rising in his chest.

 

Should he have kept it a secret? 

 

Mick hadn’t said he wanted anyone to know about their scents (or his secondary gender), however, George had a feeling he would be very unhappy if George started telling people details. But that also didn’t mean George couldn’t tell people about his own stupid feelings.

 

wow

 

George frowned. For all the typing and retyping he had done, he had sort of expected an essay of sorts from Charles.

 

like 

like mick schumacher

like sebs precious baby angel whod do nothing wrong ever and ever and blah blah blah???

like big blue miserable eyes mick????

like ex haas driver son of michael schumacher mick??????????

 

George had no choice but to respond with a simple:

 

👍

 

what the fuck

i see now why you are so secretive about this

come over in ten minutes. i will make mick fall in love with you and then he will do horrible sexy things to you and seb will probably kill you 🥰🥰😍😘😘

 

What.

 

you will realize when you let him fuck you finally 😘😘

 

Oh God.

 

Had Charles…fucked Mick?

 

please tell me you ddidnt sleep with him.

 

ooooooooo no grammer…. 

 

Charles. 

 

😜

 

George was going to scream.

 

Had they seriously…?

 

i am joking

i did not let mick fuck me

 

Good.

 

if you want to talk to someone who has though…..

 

No.

 

😌❤️

 

I will be over shortly. Should i dry my hair?

 

no let it free

like elsa

 

NO.

 

let it gooooooo let it go

 

George sighed, threw on a pair of sweatpants, a shirt, and grabbed his phone wallet and keys before beginning his trip to Charles’ room. He didn’t bother with blockers. Charles probably couldn’t smell him at all anyway. He was just glad they all booked rooms in the same hotel so he could just wander over to Charles rather than having to figure out a taxi, or a car, or some other form of transportation that would make him want to scream.

 

Eventually, he reached Charles' door and knocked.

 

“Hey Charles, I-” George frowned. “What?”

 

“Hey, mate.” Lando said, dragging George and pulling him into Charles’ room. “Charles said you needed hair advice.”

 

Well. At least Lando had curly hair. But there was no fucking reason for Alex to be there. Not when George explicitly wanted just Charles to be there.

 

His face must have done something exceedingly humorous because Charles snickered, and began typing furiously on his phone. 

 

i did not tell them abt ur crush

they asked what i was doing then just came here i did not invite them

 

Ah.

👍

 

“So, mate, how’s it been going?” Alex asked, leaning his back onto the side of the bed from where he was sitting on the floor. “Charles said you had a hair crisis, is this why you’ve been ignoring us?”

 

Oh.

 

Thank God for Charles.

 

That was an actual valid reason to avoid people.

 

“Yeah. Also, the whole beginning of the season thing… I haven’t been feeling great and didn’t want to infect anyone.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. George hadn’t been feeling well, though he definitely wasn’t contagious. “But I am here now, so does it really matter?”

 

“Not really, though we were a bit worried about you. You don’t usually just disappear like that.” Alex folded his legs into a spectacularly strange position. George was a bit worried about his knees. “But it is what it is. Glad you’re feeling better.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“And-” Lando called from the bathroom, “I need to tell you a story.”

 

Charles shook his head frantically. George ignored him.

 

“What story?” 

 

Charles groaned. “Now you have made us suffer through this again. You are terrible.”

 

Lando reappeared from the bathroom a moment later, looking a bit too excited. “So, mate, you know how Oscar and I are scent compatible?”

 

What. 

 

“No?”

 

“Well we are, so like, keep up.” Lando dropped himself down on the couch. “So we’ve been hooking up for a hot minute, and shit. You know this.”

 

George did not know this. He nodded anyway. 

 

“Good. So, Carlos and I have been hooking up for years, as you know, and it is absolutely swell. The sex is fantastic. So on and blah blah blah. But anyway, I just found out that Oscar has been hooking up with Logan for like four years, and that Logan’s scent apparently is compatible with Oscar but Oscar’s is not with him, so they’re, like, kinda miserable about that.” Lando took a breath. He watched George carefully looking for his reaction. George looked down at Alex and Charles, who were whispering by the bed. They did not help him. “So with that, Carlos and Oscar have both been having weird hate sex.”

 

George could not mask his confusion at that . “Wait. Aren’t you all alphas? How does that even-?”

 

“We make it work, and Carlos is an Omega. Keep up. And also, just because you have no imagination and zero sex life doesn’t mean some of us don’t find a way.”

 

Ouch. 

 

George rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault I’ve been too miserable to fuck anyone lately.” and that he was unbelievably down bad for Mick Schumacher of all people . 

 

Charles was snickering. George chose to ignore him.

 

Seriously, why was he friends with these people?

 

“Charles,” he began, “Can we please deal with my hair now?”

 

“Sure. Lose the gel and you will be beautiful.”

 

“What.”

 

“Well, if your hair has a bit of curl already in it, the gel and the brushing is probably keeping it from being itself.”

 

“And you should let it grow out a bit more!” Alex called out. “It’ll make you look less like a middle-aged man.”

 

“I do not -” George started, before Charles interrupted him.

 

“Yes! You must grow it out or your hair will just be sad, and then you must try for some uh- what do you call them? Some front pieces? Bangs? That way mystery guy will want to fuck you.”

 

George was going to kill Charles. And he wasn’t even sorry about it. “Charles.” He gritted his teeth. “What happened to our agreement?”

 

“I didn’t say names!”

 

But it was too late, because Alex and Lando were already laughing at him and demanding to know who the mystery guy was and George could feel his stress levels rising again and-

 

“Christ almighty, George.” Lando sniffed. “How attached are you to this guy where us simply having a laugh is enough to make us actually be able to smell you.” 

 

Charles stepped back from him, his nose wrinkled. “You-” He sat down on the bed “-need to chillax. I cannot stand overdone tea.”

 

Alex just shrugged. “I can’t smell anything, so…”

 

He gave George a fistbump and scooted closed on the floor. It kind of hurt, if George was being honest. 

 

“He smells a bit like oversteeped tea. Like, not a ton because he’s George , but enough where it's gross.” Lando explained. “It’s not good. I cannot imagine being with this fella and having to smell that all the time.”

 

Oh .

 

Well, that hurt.

 

George tried not to let the comment affect him too much given that he and Lando were probably the most incompatible people in the universe, but with the current situation with Mick…He really hoped he didn’t smell that bad to Mick. George had never really been super insecure about his scent- he hadn’t had any reason to as no one could really smell him- but his comment struck a bit too close to home for his liking. 

 

“Oh, George-” Charles sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Your scent isn’t that bad, Lando was just being a dick. Right, Lando?”

 

“Eh. It’s pretty fucking gross, mate.”

 

George tried his damndest not to start crying right then and there. He really didn’t want to explain why Lando’s comments were hurting now and not every other time he’d made them. 

 

“I’m going to run to the restroom.” George mumbled, before turning and walking into the bathroom. As soon as he shut the door, he let the tears start to fall. He sincerely hoped that no one from outside could hear him cry, but given that this was a hotel bathroom, George had a feeling they could hear everything. He stared down Charles’ blockers, then picked up the bottle. He’d apologize to him later for using it without asking.

 

He could hear Charles (and even Alex) tearing into Lando.

 

George appreciated their support, but honestly? He just wanted to be alone.

 

Well.

 

That wasn’t true either.

 

All he wanted was Mick.

 

Someone was knocking at the door.

 

George furiously wiped his face off, splashed some water on his face, and opened the door.

 

“George, mate, are you okay?” Alex asked, voice soft.

 

George nodded. He knew it wasn’t convincing.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“It’s fine. Just a tricky spot at the moment.”

 

“Oh. Oh .” Alex took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know what you smell like. But I’m sure it’s not as bad as Lando claims it is.” Alex stared at the bottle in George’s hands. “You know Charles stuff is omega-only right? You’ll probably fuck yourself up if you use that.”

 

George did not realize that. He put the bottle down.

 

George shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I can’t smell myself.”

 

Alex gave him a sad smile. “Whoever it is, I’m sure they will love whether they can smell you or not. They’ll be very lucky to have you, George, okay?”

 

Alex’s mating bite on his neck was practically mocking him.

 

“I hope so.”

 

“I know so,” Alex opened his arms. “Do you want a hug?” 

 

George did want a hug. 

 

He fell into Alex’s arms and tried (and failed) to not start crying again. His shoulders shook against Alex, who wound his arms around him tightly and blessedly didn’t say anything. Alex had always been able to understand what he needed. It was one of the reasons why George thought that they would be mates when they were younger. 

 

He had never considered the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to mate the person he might actually want to mate with. 

 

As his sobs became softer and softer he could hear Charles absolutely tearing Lando a new one from somewhere in the hotel room. Or well, he assumed that Charles was ripping him a new one. It sounded like he was cursing Lando out in every language he knew (and then maybe some he didn’t). 

 

“Alright alright!” Lando finally yelled. “I’ll apologize! Sheesh! No need to tell the entire world how pissed you are at me!”

 

“I ought to after what you said.” 

 

“You know I only speak English though, right?” 

 

“Oui.” 

 

“ Charles. ” 

 

The two of them stopped speaking. It took George a minute to realize that this was because they had approached the bathroom and could probably see him still clinging to Alex. Shit. 

 

“George?” Lando finally said, actually sounding slightly concerned. “I’m really sorry I-” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” George said, pushing himself away from Alex and wiping at his eyes. “It’s nothing you haven’t said before, right? Not your fault I got all ruffled about it.” 

 

Charles, Lando and Alex looked wildly unconvinced. But George did not want them to ask questions so he said the first thing that he could think of. 

 

“Did you guys know that Lewis thought I was an Alpha?” 

 

All three of their jaws dropped at the same time.

 

“What?” Lando asked. “Seriously? Like not as a joke?”

 

“Yep.” 

 

“No offense, but how ?”

 

George shrugged. “I have no idea.”

 

“Yeah,” Charles piped up, “If I had to choose, I definitely would not say you give Alpha vibes.”

 

“I don’t disagree.” That was true. There was a reason why George had hoped that spending Alex’s rut with him would trigger his presentation. Of course, that hadn’t worked, and after a few more years of waiting (and several blood tests), it turned out George was just a Beta. “But, do you really think I give off submissive and breedable vibes?”

 

Charles raised his eyebrows and stared at him. Lando nodded furiously, and Alex? 

 

Well, Alex was speaking before George could reconsider his wording.

 

“George, do I really need to bring up that one time when you helped me with my rut? Because you sorta said some sus shit, mate.”

 

George did not want to think about that.

 

He’d much rather think about Mick-

 

Woah.

 

He needed to stop that train of thought now .

 

“Shut up.” George replied, knowing that he definitely had taken far too long to respond to defend himself.

 

“Eh,” Lando said, thankfully cutting off whatever incriminating thing Alex had been ready to say. “I don’t think you’re like the most submissive and breedable person in the paddock though. Like have you seen Mick Schumacher? I don’t know where he got it from cause I don’t think his dad was like that, but man. ” 

 

George willed his face not to flush. 

 

“Excuse me, one moment,” Charles said, darting into a different section of the hotel room as he barely contained his laughter. 

 

Only Alex seemed to have no idea what was going on and he looked like he was about to say something terrible about Mick and George didn’t really want to think about that at all. 

 

“Speaking of submissive and breedable,” he blurted out, wincing at how bad it sounded. “Did you also know that Lewis is mated with Nico?” 

 

“WHAT?!” Charles shouted from the other side of the room. “How did you find that out?”

 

“Lewis literally threw it into casual conversation and acted like it was common knowledge,” George shrugged. “I was shocked.” 

 

“I knew those two secretly got along,” Lando mused. “Damn. At least Oscar owes me twenty pounds now.” 

 

“You bet on them?” Alex laughed. 

 

“Twenty pounds is nothing,” Charles groaned. “I’m going to owe Max like two hundred from this.” 

 

“Why is everyone betting on Nico and Lewis?” Alex laughed harder. “Those two are a trainwreck!”

 

“Hey!” George interrupted. “I’m not betting on them!” 

 

“Do you know when they got together? Do you know when they mated?” Charles asked with his best doe eyes. “Was it before 2007? Please tell me it was before 2007?” 

 

George shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know they’ve been together for a while.” 

 

Charles cursed in French. “You have to find out for me. If they got mated before 2007 then Max owes me two hundred pounds.” 

 

George rolled his eyes. “I’ll do my best.” He fiddled with his hair. It was drying rapidly and no one had told him what to do with it yet. 

 

“Oh,” Charles said, noticing. “Your hair. We never did that.” 

 

George nodded. 

 

“Do you even have curly hair products?” Lando asked. 

 

“No,” Charles said. “I hadn’t thought about that.” 

 

“My god. Idiots, all of you,” Lando groaned. “C’mon Alex. We’re going to get George my curl cream and my gel.” 

 

Alex protested slightly, and really looked like he didn't want to leave George, but Lando was able to drag him out of the room. 

 

Charles waited approximately thirteen seconds after Lando and Alex left before he grabbed George by the arm and practically threw him on the bed. 

 

“So, Mick, huh?”

 

“Don’t make fun of me.”

 

Charles frowned. “I’m not. Mick is very kind, and he has very nice eyes. I actually cannot think of anyone better than him.” 

 

“Oh. But-”

 

“But what? Oh. Oh. You are, of course, worried that because he’s a Beta it won’t work, yes?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Oh, you knew that right?”

 

“Yes? But why do you-?”

 

“When he was still racing, Seb, Mick and I would go to brunch sometimes. He says a lot of things if you give him enough mimosas.” 

 

“Like-?”

 

“I cannot tell you. It would be breaking the, ah, what is it? The bro code?”

 

George rolled his eyes. “Fine. But, if that applies to your brunches, it has to apply to this conversation. You cannot tell a single other goddamn person. That includes Max.”

 

“Okay. Lay it all out on me.”

 

George took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to put his and Mick’s situation.

 

“Well?” Charles pressed impatiently. “What is it?”

 

“I think we’re scent compatible.” George rushed out, hoping Charles couldn’t understand what he was saying. 

 

Unfortunately, Charles knew him far too well to be confused by George’s manner of speaking. 

 

His eyes widened and he nodded, but he still looked a bit more composed than George had anticipated to be. “I see. Why do you think that?”

 

“Well,” George sighed. “I think it’d be best if I started from the beginning.”

 

And so George did, laying out almost everything that had happened since testing- including their kisses, and excluding the various times George had wanked while thinking of Mick. Charles didn’t need to know about all of George’s rather embarrassing fantasies, which ranged from Mick choking him out (with his massive fucking hands), to cuddling in bed after a race with him and waking up by his side.

 

By the end, Charles was sprawled out on his back on the bed, looking either like he was going to start aww-ing them (or calling them adorable, which George knew his heart would not be able to withstand), or looking a bit like he was going to cry. 

 

“My God,” Charles began, with his hand over his heart. “You two were destined for each other.”

 

That was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back, and George could no longer hold his sobs back.

 

“Oh- George-” Charles shot up, wrapping his arms around him. His scent, which usually floated around him like a cloud of tiramisu, was slowly turning more alcoholic in his concern. “George, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

 

“I-” George sobbed, “I don’t think-”

 

“Hey, hey , it sounds like he likes you too, what’s the problem?”

 

“I don’t think we can-” George cried, now into Charles’ shoulder as Charles yanked him into a tight hug. 

 

“What don’t you think you can do?”

 

“We can’t mate, Charles!” 

 

“Oh.” Charles mumbled. “Well, why not?”

 

“We’re both Betas. There’s no way we can- Not now- Not ever-” 

 

“George, I’m sure you’ll find a way…”

 

“No we won’t! And this could have been avoided if I wasn’t like this , with my stupid, useless, awful-”

 

“ Merde .” Charles swore. “George, you need to calm down, okay?”

 

“Why? I’m losing out on the one chance of not living my life completely alone, all because of my stupid fucking body. I hate it- I fucking hate myself for it.”

 

Charles rubbed his back for a moment, just letting George cry into his shoulder. Charles took a deep breath, then spoke quietly. “You- you don’t mean that do you?”

 

George didn’t know how to respond because he really, truly meant it. He had never thought of it this way before- even after the Alex incident- but he really did hate his stupid body and biology. 

 

He’d rather have a hundred heats yearly and deal with whatever the hell else, than just be stuck alone forever. Especially when he had nearly had a chance at something, but it was ruined by him being all wrong.

 

“George? You can’t mean that…”

 

“But I do .” George’s voice cracked horribly. “I do hate myself for it. I wish I wasn’t like this.”

 

“I know. I know, George. But listen to me. Of course you are scared you will be alone, but it should also not stop you from being with Mick. I think you need to talk to him and just figure it out. There’s so many other people in this world, George, and of course there must be others in your situation. There must be a way for you and him to mate. It may be not as easy as some ways, but I think it will all work out. You just need to take the first step and talk to him, because

however bad you feel, I’m sure Mick feels the same way. So, after the race, if all is well, you will talk to him. Okay?”

 

George pulled in a shuddering breath. He hadn’t thought that Mick might be feeling the same way about himself. It was enough to make him want to cry again. “Okay.”

 

“You promise?” Charles’s voice was firm. 

 

George swallowed. “I promise.”

 

“Good. Now, for your hair. Do you think you want to grow it out a bit and see what happens?”

 

George shrugged. “Do you think it’ll look good?”

 

“Yes. But, if you’re worried, you could always ask Mick what he thinks of course.”

 

Oh.

 

George supposed he could. There was one problem with that though.

 

“But Charles-”

 

“What.”

 

“Mick has terrible taste. How am I supposed to trust his opinion?”

 

Charles laughed. “Yeah, but then at least you’ll know what he likes.”

 

That was true. George pulled out his phone and switched to his texts with Mick.

 

Mick! Should I grow my hair out? 👍/👎?

 

👍👍👍👍🥰🥰🥰😘😘

 

Well. That was that.

 

But George kind of wanted Mick to actually use his words.

 

Do you think it will look good?

 

ya!! youll look nice!! 

 

Just nice?

 

Was Mick lying?

 

Are you sure?

 

george.

georgie.

youll look very pretty.

 

Georgie?

 

Pretty?

 

“What?” he said, mostly to himself. 

 

um 

i mean

handsome?

attractuve??

nice??

good?

 

George stared at his phone, transfixed, cheeks gradually getting hotter and hotter. He could only imagine what his smell was doing (because apparently when Mick was involved that was a thing now).

 

“What is he saying?” Charles tried to read over his shoulder. 

 

George flipped the phone upside down. 

 

“Oh, just give me that!” Charles reached over and picked up the phone before George could react. 

 

George buried his face in his hands. He could practically hear Charles typing out something that was probably embarrassing , but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. Also, whatever Charles was going to say to Mick was probably better than what he would have said. 

 

“Please don’t ruin my chances with him.” George mumbled into his hands.

 

“Of course I will not. I am just helping you move things along.”

 

Somehow, that sounded more threatening.

 

“Please don’t tell him things that will scare him off. Like, please don’t tell him I think of him while I wank or whatever.”

 

Charles went silent for a moment. “ Do you wank while thinking about him?!”

 

“I don’t!” George cried, praying Charles couldn’t see through his lie. He looked up at him. “I don’t!”

 

Charles raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you. I will not tell him that though. He’d probably freak out.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

Charles handed him his phone back after scrolling up to where George had left off. George stared down at the first message Charles had sent.

 

Pretty is okay! I can be pretty for you. 😉

 

“I am going to kill you.”

 

“Just keep reading, mate.”

 

George scrolled down a bit and kept reading.

 

u already are pretty! 😊😊

srry is that weird 

haha sorry

 

It’s not weird- I think you’re pretty too 😘

 

“ Charles !” George yelled. Mick was still typing in response, the bubble popping up after a few seconds then disappearing again. “Why the fuck would you use a kiss face? That’s totally going to freak him out and-”

 

“Well, he used one first.”

 

What.

 

George scrolled up through his and Mick’s texts until-

 

Dear God.

 

Mick had used a kiss emoji. George hadn’t even noticed.

 

Mick texted him again.

 

u rlly think so?????

 

George sighed. “I hate you,” he said to Charles. “But also thank you.”

 

Charles gave him a thumbs up, before typing frantically on his own phone. “You need to leave soon, by the way. Max is coming over and unless you want to join in, you have to leave.”

 

Jesus. 

 

Well.

 

“Are you…offering?”

 

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Do you want that?”

 

“No.”

 

“Good. It wasn’t an invite. Anyway, tell Mick he’s pretty before he freaks out or whatever.”

 

George quickly typed out a response, then showed it to Charles. “Is this okay? I don’t want it to seem weird.”

 

“It’s perfect. Now shoo!”

 

George sent the message as he left Charles’ room. 

 

Mick, please trust me when I say you are by far the most pretty person I’ve seen. 😘🥰😍😍😚

 

After a moment of deliberation, George unsent the text. It was just a bit too overboard. Unfortunately, based on the text Mick sent him next, George knew Mick had seen it.

 

📸📸📸📸📸

u too 🥰🤍 

 

George stared down at his phone. Camera emojis. Did Mick want to take his picture? Did he want George to send him a picture? He pondered this as he walked back to his room and flopped down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

 

George was about to ask what he meant when it clicked. 

 

Camera emoji. Screenshot. Mick had screenshotted his text. 

 

Shit .

 

oh! and congrats on your p2 👏

sorry i didn't get to see you after qualifying, but maybe tomorrow after the race? 

 

Maybe Charles hadn’t totally fucked things up for him.

 

Yeah, sounds good. 👍

Looking forward to it. 👍👍

 

George dropped his phone on his face. Looking forward to it? What was he, sixty? 

 

His phone buzzed and fell off of his face. 

 

hopefully we will have something to celebrate!!

crossing my fingers for u!!

 

Somehow, knowing that Mick was rooting for him was worse than the whole pretty thing. 

 

What about Lewis? 

 

i think i know u a bit better ;)

don't tell him that tho 😅

 

Okay. Well. That definitely made his insides flip. 

 

Mick’s typing bubble appeared and disappeared several more times. George knew it was cowardly, but he could not finish this conversation. He had already had one existential crisis this evening, he didn't need another one. 

 

It’s a bit late. I’m going to head to bed. Big day and all tomorrow. 

See you then.

 

Mick’s typing bubble reappeared quickly. 

 

oh! 

sorry i didn't realize i was keeping you up

get some sleep!!

😴🤍

 

George hesitated for a moment. 

 

He typed a message out. Then deleted it. Then retyped it. 

 

Fuck it, he had already told Mick he was pretty, he didn’t have much more to loose. 

 

Sweet dreams. 💖😘

 

George threw his phone across the room before Mick could respond. 

 

He was so, unbelievably, massively fucked.

Notes:

sorry it took so long to update, i went on a grand roadtrip and had like 0 wifi!!!!!!!! but we have morge now. as usual, pls pls comment they make my day and ily alllllllllllll

also thoughts on lancarcargan i thought it was funny lol

Chapter 8: nico rosberg is somehow more oblivious than our main two clowns. how? idk

Summary:

yadda yadda same old commentary, read the tags, etc etc

some minor warnings: mick sees georges pu failure and overthinks it, so if anything with fire bothers you, be warned (though its really quite minor), neither nico nor mick know what the other is talking about so its a trainwreck of a conversation

Notes:

shout out to Carrot_cake_creamcheese for knowing EXACTLY what was going on. u win a gold star. https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/31nsM0vbTsL.jpg

Mick was trying really, really hard to pay attention to the data screens. Really, he was. But George’s strutting around the garage, especially when he was leaving a light trail of Earl Gray behind him, was making it nearly impossible. 

 

Mick had never wanted for a red flag to be over so soon. 

 

Because as much as he liked watching George look like a model in the garage, there was one thing better than that and it was watching George lead a race, which he had been doing up until the early red flag, where he had gotten totally fucking screwed over by sheer misfortune. 

 

And, unlike watching George strut around the garage, watching George race was actually part of his job description and unlikely to get someone to notice that he was definitely thinking indecent thoughts. Especially since George was (rightfully) pissed about getting pitted directly before the red flag and losing the lead. Despite his seemingly calm exterior, Mick could not only just hear George’s frustrated monologue to Toto, but smell George’s sheer rage. 

 

It was actually kind of making the entire garage smell like oversteeped tea. 

 

That wasn’t enough to turn Mick off though, especially when he watched George bite off his gloves and throw them angrily on a table. 

 

Mick briefly wondered if George could (or would, really) throw him over a table like that. 

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

 

Mick nearly jumped four feet in the air. Who had suddenly gained the ability to read his mind? 

 

Nico Rosberg, apparently. 

 

He was standing next to Mick in a nondescript pair of white jeans, a t-shirt and definitely non designer sunglasses. Interesting.

 

“Huh?” Mick blinked. Rather eloquent and not suspicious at all. 

 

“Oh, sorry,” Nico glanced around before lifting his glasses quickly. “It’s Nico. Rosberg?” 

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “I know who you are.” Seriously, what kind of disguise did Nico think he was wearing? You could recognize his blonde hair alone from space practically. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Oh well, I was on Lewis’s side of the garage. Because you know, mates and all that, but I wanted to come over here and wish you congratulations,” Nico said. 

 

Ah. This weirdness again. 

 

“Thank you,” Mick said, hoping that this would be over quickly. He had never been able to figure out exactly what Lewis had been talking about, though he suspected it was about a bit more than the reserve driver position. 

 

“How are you faring with the stress and everything? I can hardly smell anything on you.”

 

Weird. But it was Nico Rosberg. 

 

“I’m doing alright,” Mick said, honestly. “I don’t usually smell like much when I’m stressed so… it’s nothing to be worried about.”

 

It was technically true. 

 

Mick just usually didn’t smell like much to begin with.

 

Nico, thankfully, looked a bit less concerned. “Well,” he began, “I guess you would wear blockers as well, right? Which makes sense why I can’t really smell you too well.”

 

Fuck. 

 

Mick knew he had forgotten to reapply them before he left his hotel room. At least he probably wasn’t making the garage smell like sour lemons in his annoyance. 

 

“Yeah?” Mick said, trying not to look too anxious. “Are they wearing off?”

 

Nico sniffed the air. Somehow he managed to look even bitchier. It was almost impressive. “I’d reapply if I were you.”

 

Mick nodded. “Thank you, I-”

 

George was waving across the garage at him. His hair was curling over his face, and the smell of Earl Gray was almost enough to make Mick want to just hide away in George’s driver’s room after the race and do terrible and horrible things to his race suit.

 

And also him.

 

Definitely also him.

 

“Mick?” Nico lay a hand on Mick’s shoulder. “You should really put some more on. Your scent is getting a lot more noticeable and I don’t think you want to stress out George. He might get worried about…everything.”

 

“Fuck.” Mick swore, under his breath. “I really don’t want to worry him. I think I forgot-”

 

And then Nico Rosberg, of all people, was pushing a small bottle into his hands.

 

“Put it on. It’ll last a bit longer and cover your smell better from him.” Nico paused. “It’s safe. For you.”

 

Mick nodded, slipped out of the garage and ran into the nearest bathroom. Thankfully, one of the single stall bathrooms was open, and once Mick locked the door behind him, he examined the bottle.

 

It was, supposedly, safe for pregnant people.

 

Interesting.

 

Maybe that was why Nico was there, and not off doing fuck all in Monaco. But then again, Mick really didn’t know what Nico did with his life other than stare longingly after Lewis, complain about Lewis, and occasionally care about electric cars or something. 

 

Ah!

 

Nico also vlogged.

 

That was something. 

 

Mick pulled his shirt off, and pulled his pants down to his knees. It was a less than dignified position to be in, for sure, but Mick really didn’t want to inconvenience George. He spread the blockers-a bit like he would sunscreen- on the scent glands on his inner thighs, either side of his neck, and just below his wrists.

 

It took far longer to dry than Mick’s preferred brand, so Mick was forced to endure a solid five minutes of just waiting before he could pull his fucking pants back on. At one point, he had tried to fan at least his thighs with his hands, but it didn’t seem to work either so he just gave up and stood there, his hands on his hips, feeling like the biggest dumbass in the world. At least he had scooted away from the mirror, so he wasn’t stuck staring down his own dick in the mirror. 

 

By the time he returned to the garage, the race was just about to restart.

 

Nico gave him a thumbs up. Mick returned it, wandered back over to him, and handed him the bottle.

 

“It’s pretty strong, so it should last you all race.” Nico whispered. “It’s worked for me before…when I…you know.” 

 

Nico looked a bit crushed, so Mick tried to sympathetically pat him on the shoulder. It didn’t seem to help. But Nico didn’t seem to want to chat, so Mick walked back over to his spot next to Toto to watch the restart. 

 

The next eight laps went without a hitch. George was doing well, especially as he progressively rose from seventh to fourth, and Mick could not help the pride that swelled in his heart at watching George succeed. He had known George was a good racer prior to working at Mercedes- he had fucking raced him after all- but now that he could actually watch in real time what George was doing and why he was doing it…

 

Well, Mick was reminded that he really had a thing for competency. 

 

Because George was nothing if not fucking competent at most things he tried to do, whether that be racing, doing GPDA stuff, committing a bit hard to media, or, hell, protecting Mick from spiders. The one thing he was truly horrible at was singing, which Mick found more endearing than anything else. Regardless, George was doing really fucking well until-

 

Until his car started fucking smoking. 

 

Until George’s car was on fire. 

 

Mick had seen dozens of cars light up like this- through a PU issue, even- so there was no reason why he felt so goddamn terrified. He couldn’t look away from the screen. Mick swallowed, his stomach tying itself into knots as he tried desperately not to panic, or worse, think about what would happen if George didn’t get out of the car. But trying not to think about it only made it worse, and he knew he was panicking, and he knew George was hopping out of the car and gesturing widely, and he knew that he was okay, but all he could think about was what would happen if George was still stuck in the fucking car. George would get burned, badly. He’d have to get rushed to a hospital where Mick wouldn’t be allowed to see him because they weren’t mated. 

 

He’d never be allowed to see George after an accident. 

 

He continued to stare down at the screen, watching the replay over and over, then suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and he was being dragged to the back of the garage, away from prying eyes and cameras. 

 

“Mick, hey, buddy, you need to breathe.” 

 

Great. Now he was being coddled by Nico Rosberg. 

 

Bile rose up in Mick’s throat as he realized that not only was he being coddled by Nico Rosberg, he was also away from the screens and he couldn’t see if something had happened to George and-

 

Mick bolted away from Nico, down the hall and to the nearest bathroom. He barely managed to puke in the toilet and not on the floor. 

 

It was disgusting.

 

His knees gave out but somehow he managed to crawl across the floor and lock the door, so at least no one else could see him in such a miserable state, though he had a terrible feeling that Nico had followed him. 

 

He gagged, before puking again, this time managing to miss the toilet entirely. At least he managed to avoid getting any of it on his clothes, Mick thought, trying to calm himself down in every way he knew. He wasn’t a stranger to panic attacks- he had had them many times before, especially in his time at Haas- but he couldn’t remember ever feeling this fucking awful during them. He was sitting on the floor, curled up next to a disgusting puddle of vomit, nose running, trying desperately not to pass out and feeling worse than he ever had for a long time. 

 

Mick’s hands went to his hair, and he yanked on it as hard as he could, praying that something would make him snap out of it. It didn’t work. Neither did any of the few breathing exercises that Mick had been taught. 

 

The realization that this wasn’t going to stop anytime soon only made it worse, and while Mick had been able to somehow scoot himself against the wall without A) falling into his own puke, or B) puking again, it didn’t help him feel any better. 

 

It almost made everything worse, because when he was alone on the floor, he could convince himself it was all just a nightmare and that it wasn’t real. But the cold wall behind him just reminded him that after this, he needed to go back to work, smelling like sweat and sick, and pretend everything was okay. 

 

And not going back to work was not an option. 

 

No one had yelled at him yet, but there was still definitely time for that, and Mick wasn’t sure what he’d do if Toto yelled at him. In the best case scenario, Mick would just zone out, and he’d be able to just be a passenger in his own body, and then he could go home with no job and no future and racing, and be too out of it to care. In the worst case scenario, Toto would shout at him in front of everyone, and they’d all know he was incapable of handling himself. 

 

And George would know too. 

 

And George valued hard work and commitment, so he’d probably leave him too. Not that they were even together, but he definitely wouldn’t want to be after this.

 

And Mick wouldn’t even be able to blame him.

 

There was a loud knock on the door. 

 

Mick put his head between his knees reflexively, waiting to hear Toto’s loud voice echoing through the door. He was about to get fired while sitting next to a puddle of vomit. 

 

“Mick?” 

 

Fresh tears sprung to his eyes. This was it, this was the end of his career. 

 

“Mick?” 

 

He choked down a sob. 

 

“Mick, please, are you in there?” 

 

Mick vomited again, this time barely missing his shoes. He needed George. He needed to stick his nose in George’s neck and then maybe, just maybe, he would feel a bit like a person again.

 

George….was he okay? Had he made it back to the garage? Had he tripped over anything on the way back? Had a spark jumped off and lit his fingers on fire? Had he inhaled smoke?

 

“Fuck.” There was rustling from the other side of the door. The knob jiggled. Then nothing. 

 

That was almost worse than the talking. 

 

“Mick, it’s Nico,” the voice said again. “I need to know if you are alright.” 

 

Well, it was good that it wasn’t Toto but Mick couldn't speak in English right now even if he tried.

 

“Mick, it’s Nico. I need to know if you're alright,”  Nico said again, this time in German, as if he could read his mind. 

 

“ Help -” Mick panted, feeling his breath start to quicken. “ I need help .”

 

Nico was silent for a moment. “ Can you open the door? No one else is out here except for me, and no one is going to hurt you. Okay? ”

 

After a few attempts, Mick managed to unlock the door. “ It’s-” he paused, feeling his eyes well up with tears again, “ It’s gross in here. ”

 

“ I don’t care. ”

 

And then Nico stepped in. He looked horrified, his eyes widening as he took in the scene that lay before him. “Mick-”

 

“Mm?” Mick managed to hum, just barely keeping himself from breaking apart again. 

 

“ Do you need a doctor?” 

 

Mick frowned. Did he look that miserable? He hoped not. He shook his head. “‘ m fine,” he muttered. 

 

“ I’m going to get some disinfectant, okay? There’s no way you can calm down with the room smelling like this. Close the door, and don’t let anyone else in. Okay?” 

 

Mick nodded. He felt a bit like he was going to faint. 

 

The next few minutes were a blur as Mick shut the door and waited for Nico’s return. But, as soon as Nico entered the room, he locked the door, and began spraying down the particularly nasty sections of the floor. It looked a bit like he had never cleaned a floor in his life, which at least was slightly amusing. 

 

“ Okay . What happened?” Nico asked, once he had cleaned up all of the vomit on the floor and helped Mick clean off his face. 

 

“ I don’t feel good.”

 

“Okay, okay-” Nico took a deep breath. “ Are you hurting anywhere?”

 

Mick’s head was pounding, his throat was sore, and he still felt a bit like he was going to be sick. He nodded. 

 

“Fuck.” Nico cursed, “ Do you know what’s happening?”

 

“ Yes.” Mick responded. It was fairly obvious that he had just had a panic attack- a very bad one, yes- but still a panic attack. “ I’ve had them before. ”

 

Nico’s look turned from one of concern to devastation. “Mick,” Nico wiped his face with his hand. “Oh, Mick. Did you deal with them alone ?”

 

Mick nodded. It wasn’t like he could’ve just texted fucking Mazepin. He would’ve probably gotten him kicked out of Formula 1 for being too emotionally unstable, or like, claiming that he was too traumatized to drive or something ridiculous. 

 

“ I’m so, so, sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with it alone.”

 

Mick nodded mutely, tears running down his face again. “ It is what it is- I just-”

 

“ I know .”

 

“ I just wish George was here. ” Mick mumbled into his knees, half-hoping that Nico couldn’t hear him. “I just want him here with me. ”

 

“ Okay . I’m sorry I am not George, but I am going to try and help you, okay?”

 

Mick nodded again. 

 

“ Good. Can I touch you ?”

 

“ Yes. ”

 

Nico sat on the ground next to him- evidently not caring about dirtying his white jeans- and wrapped an arm around him. “I know you’re scared and I know it hurts, but you’re going to be alright. And you don’t know for sure yet, so try not to worry too much. It’s okay to cry on me if you need to. I know how it feels, okay? But you’re going to be alright. It’s all going to be alright.”

 

“ Is George okay?”

 

It was all Mick needed to know.

 

Nico sighed and smiled, though he still looked sad. “ George is out of the car. He’s okay, just had to do media and other obligations. He won’t be mad at you for this. It’s not your fault, okay? ”

 

“Are you sure? Because I know I’m missing- ”

 

“ He won’t be mad. No one is going to be mad.”

 

“ But-”

 

“Mick. I promise you, this is not your fault. ”

 

“ I should have just stayed calm better, and I should have- ”

 

“ No. It’s not your fault. ”

 

Mick didn’t try to argue with him again, so he just lay his head on Nico’s shoulder and let himself cry. Nico rubbed his back as he sobbed, clearly trying to be as gentle as he possibly could. He smelled a bit like a burned out candle. 

 

Mick wished more than anything that it was earl gray instead. 

 

Eventually though, his tears slowed and then stopped. And despite his splitting headache and the numbness spreading rapidly into his fingers, Mick knew what he had to do. 

 

“I should go back to work,” he said, voice squeaky as he forced himself to speak English. “They’ll be looking for me.” 

 

“I already told Toto you weren’t feeling well earlier, when I grabbed the disinfectant,” Nico said. “You’re not in trouble. He’s not mad.” 

 

Somehow, that pissed Mick off. 

 

“You just assumed that I wouldn’t be able to go back to work?” he asked, pulling away from Nico. “Now everyone is going to think I’m some weakling.” 

 

He leaned away from Nico and struggled into a standing position. It made his head rush and he had to lean against the door behind him to keep himself upright. 

 

Nico’s hands were poised, waiting to catch him. “No one is going to think that.” 

 

“Yes, they will,” Mick insisted. “I don’t want to get fired for not going back out.” He took a slow step forward. It was shaky, but he didn’t fall and that was all that mattered. In a few steps he was at the sink and splashing cold water gently on his face.

 

“Mick,” Nico said, sounding absolutely wrecked. “You just watched your Mate’s power unit practically blow up and his car light on fire. That's a lot of stress to put on yourself and also your child. I don’t think anyone would blame you for sitting out the rest of the race.”

 

Mick’s hands stilled under the tap. Mate? Child? 

 

Suddenly he had a very, very clear idea what Nico and Lewis had been talking to him about. 

 

“George and I are not mated,” Mick said sadly, because it was the only thing he could say, really. “We are not mated and there is no child.” 

 

Now Nico looked like he was the one in danger of collapsing onto the floor. There were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and Mick ran out of the room before he could see them fall. 

 

He got halfway to the garage before he ran directly into someone very tall and very solid. At first he hoped it was George, but one glance at the figure in front of him was enough to make Mick feel like he was going to be sick again. Toto was staring down at him, arms crossed over his chest. Mick felt the familiar tightness in his chest, as he took a step away from him. 

 

“I’m sorry-” Mick blurted out, trying desperately not to cry. “I’m really sorry, it won’t happen again, and I-”

 

“Mick,” Toto put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Is it true you weren’t feeling well?”

 

Mick nodded. He didn’t know what else to do.

 

“Okay. This is shaping up to be a very long race.”

 

“Okay? I still should have-”

 

“Mick. Are you still feeling sick?”

 

Mick paused, unsure of what to say. By now, Gunther would have begun yelling at him for inconveniencing the team, and Mazepin would have been laughing at him, or maybe Kevin would have awkwardly sat in silence and not defended him, so he had no idea what to say. Truthfully, he felt horrible. He wanted nothing more than to sit in George’s drivers’ room and cuddle him, but that wasn’t an option. And he still couldn’t tell what game Toto was playing at. Did he want Mick to tell him, or did he want him to push through, and show that he was capable of not just being a waste of time and money and-

 

Mick sniffled, feeling himself tear up again. He looked pointedly away from Toto. “I can stay if you need me to.” He responded, finally. 

 

Toto sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way Mick, but you look terrible right now. I need you when you are at your best, and feeling well, so I think it’d be best for both of us if you just went home.”

 

Fear gripped Mick’s heart. 

 

“Home?” He echoed. Was he seriously getting fired? “Does this begin now, or can I say goodbye to a few people first?”

 

Frown lines appeared on Toto’s face. “What?”

 

“As in, if you’re- you’re firing me, can I say goodbye to a few people? Before I leave?”

 

Toto looked taken aback. He closed his eyes and took a breath. Mick bit his lip. 

 

He couldn’t believe that he was going to get fired. Again. 

 

Maybe Gunther was right, and he was just a drain on resources and money. 

 

“I can go now, of course-” Mick offered. “Obviously, I can trade my shirt in so I’m not- not falsely representing Mercedes or anything, and I just want to thank you for giving me a-”

 

“Hey. Mick. I’m not firing you.”

 

The world briefly stopped spinning. “What?”

 

Toto’s hand was still on his shoulder. He seemed to be gripping just a little tighter. “What I meant was that I think it would be best for you to go back to your hotel and sleep. We’re going to talk about this later, and not because you’re in trouble, but to discuss why you think you’re in trouble for not feeling well, but that will only be when you are feeling better. Okay?”

 

Mick nodded. It didn’t really make sense, but Mick was starting to get the feeling that that was just a Mercedes thing. 

 

“Good. Do you need someone to take you back?”

 

Mick shook his head. 

 

“Okay. Please reach out if you need anything, okay?” Then, Toto sighed. “George is still at the media pen, I’ll let him know you’re going back to the hotel. Do what you need to do to feel better.” 

 

And then Toto walked back to the direction of the garage, as if the conversation was about something completely ordinary. 

 

Mick didn’t have time to dwell upon it. He had to get to George’s driver’s room and then to the hotel before he got sick again.

 

George had told him after Saudi Arabia that he could use his driver’s room anytime he needed to. Mick really hoped that he had meant that. 

 

Mick pushed open the door and was hit with the faint scent of Earl Gray. Instantly he was able to think clearer. He looked around desperately for anything that would hold George’s scent, even though it was rare that their clothing was able to hold their actual scent. His eyes landed on the team shirt that was tucked in the corner of the table. 

 

It looked slightly damp from what Mick hoped was sweat. 

 

Mick sincerely hoped that George didn’t choose to walk through the door in the next thirty seconds as Mick picked up the t-shirt and pressed it into his face. It was definitely weird, and definitely disgusting, but it was either this or puking again, so Mick knew he really didn’t have a choice. 

 

He pulled off his shirt- thankfully he hadn’t gotten any puke on it- crumpled it up, and put it exactly where George had left his. 

 

He put on George’s shirt. 

 

It was slightly too small for Mick’s liking, but it smelled like Earl Gray, and that was all he needed. 

 

Quickly, before George could come in and catch him, Mick darted out of the room and out of the garage. Fortunately everyone was still too distracted by the race and whatever was going on there to notice him slip away. 

 

It was a miracle that he remembered where he had parked and a second miracle that he had remembered his keys. He pulled the shirt up over his nose as he drove, forcing himself to stay grounded with the smell so he didn’t crash or god forbid puke everywhere. 

 

Somehow, he made it to the hotel in one piece. 

 

As he slumped against the wall of the elevator, he could already feel the ill effects of the panic attack taking their toll on him. All of his limbs were heavy and his head was threatening to crack open from the pressure of his headache. His blinks were long and slow as sleep tugged at him. But he couldn’t sleep, not yet. 

 

He needed to shower, change his clothes and drink some water and take some paracetamol. 

 

Shower. Change clothes. Drink water. Paracetamol. 

 

He could do that. 

 

He stepped out of his clothes, leaving them where they landed on the floor, and dragged himself into the bathroom. His shower was quick and he spent half the time gripping the wall, but he managed to get off the rest of the extra strength blockers that Nico had given him. 

 

He didn't bother to dry his hair. On his way back from the bathroom he picked up George’s discarded team shirt and tossed it on the bed before putting on the first t-shirt and pair of sweats that he could find. 

 

Two things down. Two more to go. 

 

There was a bottle of water next to the bed. Mick took several big swigs before digging back into his bag to find the paracetamol. 

 

He hadn’t thought about whether or not he would be able to swallow it and keep it down, but he did. Somehow. 

 

Mick fell into the bed, barely managing to get under the covers and tuck George’s team shirt against his nose before he fell asleep.

Notes:

love you all thank u so much for reading and for all the lovely comments, i swear ill get back to yall soon (i just really dont know if my commenting will also be anon, which is why i havent yet), but i am so glad you all are enjoying morge thus far!!!!

Chapter 9: the boys trust buzzfeed a bit too much, brocedes is #nosy and concerning, and charles leclerc remains the only reasonable person despite being charles leclerc

Summary:

so. things happen. tw for discussions of miscarriage/past miscarriages.... its not a happy chapter until it is... :)

Notes:

mind the tags, once again, pls know that galex haunts the narrative as it does irl... anyway enjoy 12k of a fucking emotional rollercoaster

Debrief was fucking weird. There was no other way to put it. 

 

Everyone in the room seemed to be on edge around him- though that might have been because pretty much everyone seemed thrilled with Lewis’ podium, except him- and no one was really talking to him. His PU failure was one of sheer misfortune, as a piece of debris had apparently gotten stuck in the car’s combustion engine, so there wasn’t really anything left to discuss. If Mick had been there, maybe it would’ve been better. He knew what it was like to DNF when your teammate succeeded. 

 

Almost cruelly though, George couldn’t help but think his and Mick’s circumstances were entirely different. Mick crashed. George just had terrible fucking luck. He banished that thought as quickly as he could, especially given that he technically was responsible for one of Mick’s many DNFs. But comparing his and Mick’s unluckiness was completely useless, because there was no Mick to chat with at the debrief. 

 

And that was another thing. He had absolutely no idea where Mick was. Which was unsettling. He hadn’t been in the garage when he had returned back after his PU failure, and he hadn’t been there after George had returned from the media pen. He hadn’t been there after the race and he wasn’t in the debrief room now. 

 

It was weird. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. But he didn’t want to ask anyone and bring attention to it. Mick would not want that. And, if something bad truly had happened, George was sure someone would have at least said something by now. And so he waited, listening to the whole debrief and taking the best notes he could, trying not to think about wherever Mick was.

 

Immediately after the meeting, George headed back to his drivers’ room. He needed to text Mick and make sure everything was okay and he really just wanted to get back to his hotel and shower off the remnants of his painfully underwhelming race, and maybe get held until he forgot the smell of smoke and the disappointment at losing another race that he should have won. 

 

There was a knock at the door. 

 

George answered it, and surprisingly, Toto was standing there.

 

“George, may I have a word?” 

 

“Of course, my apologies for the mess-” George stepped aside to let him in. “You can sit down wherever you would like.”

 

“This is a quick visit, so I won’t waste too much of your time. I just need to let you know of two things. But I know that you and Mick are…” Toto paused, “...close.”

 

George swallowed. Something had happened to Mick after all. He stood up a little straighter. 

 

“I spoke to him during the second red flag,” Toto continued. “He was not well and he seemed to think that admitting he did not feel well was enough grounds to get fired.”

 

George’s eyes widened. That was…

 

Well. 

 

That was horrible. 

 

And very illegal. 

 

“Well, you aren’t doing that, right?” George asked, “If you are considering dismissal, I am afraid that I cannot and will not let that happen. It goes against-”

 

“George. I’m not firing him. I have no interest in firing him, least of all because he’s sick. I was going to ask you to review the different rules and laws surrounding dismissal with him. I don’t know the specifics of what went down at Haas, but I think there may have been certain elements of care and empathy lacking.” That was an understatement if George had ever heard one. Toto continued speaking: “I told him that his job was safe and I instructed him to go back to his hotel and rest. When you go over the policies with him, if you could give him a rundown of what went on in the debrief, I would be very appreciative.”

 

George had been so caught up in the legal aspects that he had almost forgotten about the Mick being sick part. Unease creeped into his stomach. Surely it couldn't be that bad, right? “Yes, of course. Do you know how sick he is?”

 

Toto thought for a moment. “He looked more upset than sick, but Nico and a few others said they heard him getting sick in the restroom. I don’t know the reason for his illness, but Nico made it seem like it was not contagious, maybe food poisoning or something. Still, he seemed distressed and I’d recommend reaching out sooner or later. I would do it myself but I think he might listen better if it comes from another driver and not from his boss. But do as you feel is right. Good?”

 

“Good.”

 

And then Toto left, leaving George in stunned silence.

 

George sighed, and began cramming his belongings back in his backpack. Mick had food poisoning and he had had a bad race. George was glad it was just that and nothing more serious, but he really had been looking forward to seeing Mick after the race.

 

There was another knock on the door. 

 

“Toto?” George called out, “Door’s open.”

 

“George,” Lewis knocked again. “George, I need to talk to you.”

 

Jesus Christ .

 

“The door is open!” George yelled again. He really didn’t want to have to deal with Lewis’ post-podium happiness. “Make it fast, I have things to do.”

 

George picked up his team shirt from the table. 

 

Wait. 

 

He frowned. 

 

This was not his shirt. 

 

“I’m coming in.” Lewis said, opening the door. “I need to talk to you, now.”

 

“Okay?” George responded slowly, as he came to the realization that the shirt he was holding now smelled violently like lemons. Sour, upset, lemons, with the slightest undertone of sweetness. It took everything he had not to shove the shirt into his face and inhale, but given Lewis was just sort of staring at him, he knew he could not. “What is it? I have things to do.”

 

“Have you contacted Mick yet?” 

 

Oh no. 

 

“Not yet? I know he’s sick but-”

 

“You haven’t? Seriously man, what the hell.” 

 

George frowned. Lewis smelled like a mixture of burning candles and badly burning plastic. “I literally just found out. I was just about to text him when you got in, okay? Toto needed to talk to me about it as well so-”

 

“You’re not going to leave him like this, right?”

 

Huh.

 

“Because- because he’s sick? No, I’m not going to leave him?” It wasn’t like they were together anyway, but George really did have no intention of discarding Mick from his life because he had food poisoning. That would be ridiculous and evil. “He just has food poisoning, yeah?”

 

Lewis sighed, hand coming to rest on his forehead. “Is that what they told you?”

 

“Yes? Is that not the case?” George felt his anxiety skyrocket all over again. “What is it then? Is he okay? Can I still see him?”

 

“Its-” Lewis bit his lip and looked away from George. “If he hasn’t told you yet, it’s not my place. Don’t push him too much, I’m sure he’s already stressed and hurting from everything, but he does need to tell you. Just…just don’t let him be alone too long tonight, okay? I know you both aren’t mated yet, but you really should be there for him the best you can right now.”

 

George’s mouth dropped open in shocked silence. What the fuck was Lewis on about? What on Earth had happened to Mick? 

 

Lewis must have taken his silence as a bad thing because the plastic smell intensified. “Just promise me you’re not going to leave him over this and you won't let him be alone. I can see that the two of you care about each other. It doesn’t have to be the end. There will be other times.” 

 

Lewis looked a bit like he might cry. 

 

George was possibly more lost than he had been in the first place. 

 

“George,” Lewis said desperately, taking a step forward. “I need you to promise me, George.” 

 

George nodded because what else was he supposed to do? “Yeah. Yeah, I promise.” 

 

Lewis’s shoulders dropped a little. “Good. Please let me or Nico know if you need anything. Literally anything. I’ll have my people talk to your people about the flights tomorrow so you don't have to worry about being rushed. He shouldn’t be flying anyway. Where were you heading back to? Monaco?” 

 

George nodded numbly. What in the fuck had Lewis this stressed and desperate? He didn’t even know that Lewis cared this much about Mick. 

 

“Okay, I’ll get something arranged. Just, you just focus on Mick, okay? Everything else will get taken care of.” 

 

George frowned. “Lewis, I-” 

 

“No,” Lewis cut him off. “Please. It’s the least I can do. Please .” 

 

Again, all George could do was nod. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.” 

 

Lewis responded by pulling him into a tight hug. It was a little awkward because George had not been expecting it, and it smelled like plastic. “I’ll let you get going, but please, just take care of him, okay?” 

 

He was gone before George could ask any more questions. 

 

George immediately buried his face into the shirt. 

 

It was definitely Mick’s shirt. 

 

But that begged the question as to why the hell Mick’s shirt was in his room, though- and George began to look around the room- Mick could have swapped their shirts. After a moment of searching that was the conclusion he had come to. Mick had been feeling ill, had come to his drivers’ room, and had swapped their shirts. Now, the only question George had was why ?

 

Why had Mick taken his shirt?

 

Oh.

Oh.

 

Mick had mentioned feeling better when he smelled him, right? So-

 

Oh God . 

 

Mick had come into his drivers’ room, terrified, sick and alone, and had taken his shirt to help calm himself down. 

 

Maybe that’s why Lewis was so insistent that he didn’t leave Mick alone, because he knew that Mick found comfort in his scent, and if Mick was really so bad off that he would sneak into his room and take a shirt without asking…

 

George pulled out his phone and began frantically texting Mick, as he swung his now fully packed backpack over his shoulder and made his way to his car.

Hey Mick

Toto and Lewis told me you werent feeling well, and i was wondering if you were still up for me coming over tonight? 

No pressure of course, but after the fire and everything, it would be really nice to see you and i just want to make sure youre okay and everytjonbg 🫂🩵

 

It wasn’t his greatest written text ever, but he really hoped that Mick would respond, just so he knew he was okay.

 

Mick did not respond immediately. In fact, it took the time that George spent driving to his hotel room and showering for him to reply. 

 

im okay

had a bad panic attack

fell asleep

u can come over

Oh. Oh God . 

 

Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude if you are still feeling out of sorts. 

 

no i want you here.

if thats okay

 

Okay, I’ll be over shortly. I just got out of the shower though, so do you wnat me to throw on blockers?

 

no

if thats ok

 

👍

be over soon 🩵

 

ill stick a shoe in the door for u to come in

u dont need to knock

just come in

 

👍👍

do you need me to bring you anything? water? Tea?

 

just u is ok

sorry

 

don’t apologize its not your fault

i get them too

i know how it is

 

George shut off his phone, and wandered over to his luggage on the floor. 

 

God. 

 

That’s why Lewis had been so concerned and cagey. Because Mick was having such a bad panic attack he was getting sick. And then he thought he was going to get fired.

 

It hurt him to think about it. 

 

George was no stranger to panic attacks, but he had never gotten them so bad he got sick. 

 

It was not the time to dwell on that though, and so George hung his towel up and grabbed a pair of underwear before he stared down his suitcase, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to wear, because obviously just a towel would not be sending the right message.  

 

He rummaged through the suitcase, grabbing the first non Mercedes t-shirt he could find, which ended up being a plain black one with a tear on the neck, a gray zip up hoodie and a pair of joggers. He grabbed his phone and his hotel key and walked out of the room. 

 

He wasn't quite sure where Mick’s room was, but he knew they were on the same floor. And it would be pretty easy to find as there was going to be a shoe in the door. 

 

After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly, George spotted it. A single bright yellow flip-flop jammed in the door. George pressed the door open quietly, not wanting to make Mick think he was going to axe murder him or something, but then-

 

Oh .

 

Mick was laying in bed, fast asleep. He was cuddling George’s missing team shirt, arms pulling it towards his face, and as much as George desperately wanted to keep looking at him so he could remember every detail of this forever, he knew he could not linger too long. If Mick woke up now, he’d panic, and hide in his embarrassment at George seeing him like this. 

 

So George quietly stepped back out of the room, waited twenty seconds, then knocked on the door as loud as he could. 

 

“Mmm?” George heard Mick hum from inside. Then, he said something in German, which was incredibly unhelpful mostly because George could not speak German. “George?”

 

“I’m at the door! May I come in?”

 

George heard shuffling from inside. 

 

“Yes. Come in.”

 

George reentered the room, and this time, he properly closed the door behind him. Mick had hidden the shirt somewhere. “Where do you want me to put the shoe?’

 

“Just anywhere.”

 

“Okay.” George set it on the ground. “Are you feeling alright?”

 

Mick blinked. His eyes were startlingly blue like this, standing out against the white of the sheets. Exhaustion pulled at all the lines of his face and he looked like he might burst into tears at any moment. It broke George’s heart.

 

Still, he nodded slowly. “I’m better.” 

 

If this was better, George would hate to know what he had been like before. 

 

“What do you need me to do for you?” 

 

Mick jammed his face into the sheets. “You don’t need to do anything,” he said, muffled. 

 

George sighed and came over to the bed. “Mick.” 

 

“You smell good,” Mick said into the sheets, almost like he didn’t want George to hear him. 

 

“Do you want me to lay down with you?” George asked, hesitantly. 

 

Mick nodded, still not looking at George, though George could see his ears turning red. It was honestly quite cute, and so George walked over to the otherside of the bed and sat down. 

 

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

 

Mick nodded again. 

 

George awkwardly scooted over to him, and slipped under the blankets. “I’m going to touch you now,” he said, pulling Mick into his chest. 

 

Mick still didn’t smell like anything. It was almost worse than how it had been on their hike. But he was soft and warm, and despite how tense he was, it was really nice just to hold someone. 

 

And then Mick carefully took his hand and practically shoved it in his face. 

 

George sharply inhaled. 

 

“Is this okay?” Mick mumbled, nose and lips pressed against George’s scent gland. “I can move.”

 

“No, don’t move. It’s okay. I just-” George moved his hips back just enough where Mick wouldn’t be able to feel him getting hard. He had forgotten how sensitive scent glands tended to be, and now he really didn’t blame Mick for running when he had accidentally done the same to him. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

Mick didn’t respond, but instead just sniffed George’s wrist more intently. 

 

It was doing things to George that he really did not have time to think about. 

 

“You smell so good, Georgie.” 

 

“Thank you.”

 

Mick nodded, and finally began to relax in his arms. After a few minutes of laying there silently, George could hear Mick’s breath start to even out as he fell asleep. 

 

George immediately pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Charles. With his other hand occupied, George just decided to give up on using any grammar or spelling, and just hoped autocorrect was enough to make him somewhat understandable.

 

charles ik ur race sucked ass but im havinbg a fuckibg criss and i need u now mate

 

wtf

u good

???

 

mick

 

??????? is he ok

what do u want from me

are u having a panic attack

do u need me to break into ur hotel room

 

im in his bed mate

i came over to his room and he was asleep hdoling my tem shirt

hes currently sniffing my arm in his sleep

its not as werd as that makes ut sound its really rwaly cute and i think im going to cry

 

mate

ur boytoy is clinging to u and scenting u. and ur texting me???????????

 

i needed a distraction. 

hes rlly cute and alsop he keeps kind of kisings it in his sleep whenever he breathes nad i am losing my mind 

i rwally dont wnat to make him uncomfortable

 

🥴🤤💦???

george mate

 

charles.

 

george.

just talk to him. 

let him sleep first of course but then talk to him when hes done scenting u

 

yeah but what do i do

no ones ever done this to me before

 

just let it happen mate

try not to panic or hell pick up on that and itll freak him out

try not to cum in ur jeans or wtv

if u do?? idk what to tell u i dont want to know abt that

but just let him do what he needs to do to calm down

 

how do you know mick needs to calm down??

 

well given ur both betas i doubt hed just do this normally bc i know u both cant smell others too well

and knowing mick hed never do this while hes thinking clearly so……

and also i am not an idiot and people talk

 

have any pictures or videos been leaked to the media. who is talking. if people are talking about this i need to know so i can warn him

 

jfc

mick will be ok

theres nothing on the media, i just overheard people talking and heard that mick wasnt feeling well.

 

oh

good

thx

 

just try n relax mate. 

 

👍😀

 

ur down so bad its unbeliebable

 

huh 

 

just try and relax and let him do what he needs to do

okay. 

 

George sighed. Charles was absolutely no help. 

 

He opened his messages with Lewis, of which he had about seven hundred million texts asking if Mick was okay.

 

mick is ok

 

He thought for a moment. If scenting was apparently something people did to calm down, then maybe Lewis would want to know that he was helping Mick? He quickly typed out another message, and really hoped that it didn’t sound too weird.

 

hes scenting me in his sleep rn. seems to be helping him calm down a bit. 

apologied for my poor typong, i can only use one hand.

 

Lewis responded as soon as the text went through.

 

Good. I know it might be uncomfortable for you right now, but just keep letting him do whatever he needs to calm down, ok? 

And don’t worry about your texting

 

👍

ill let you knwo if there are any ipdates, but thays all i have rn.

he seems comfortable at leadt.

i wish he didnt jave to go throufh this.

 

I know, George.

Just remember its no one’s fault, and all you can do is just support him the best you can okay? Especially since this has happened before.

 

George could actually think of two people he could pin blame on for this and that was Gunther Steiner. The other was himself. He liked Gunther as an option better. 

 

I can’t really give you any advice other than that, I was never around for any of Nico’s.

I know that using a heating pad sometimes helps, and taking paracetamol. 

And make sure he stays hydrated. 

 

Heating pad? George frowned at his phone screen. Maybe he and Lewis were not talking about the same thing. 

 

He was about to ask Lewis what he meant when more texts came through.

 

You should also be watching for a fever, if he gets one you need to take him to a hospital.

I don’t know if he’s seen a doctor yet, but he definitely should. There’s no rush to fly out, we have some time before the next race and I am sure accommodations can be made if you and he need to sit the next one out as well. 

And we’re not even going to think about flying until it has passed entirely, its a recipe for disaster. Just ask Nico. 

 

If George had been confused before he was beyond lost now. 

 

Hospital? Doctor? Did Mick have some weird health condition that Lewis somehow knew about but he didn't? 

 

He glanced down at Mick, still asleep and clinging to his arm. He looked fine, if not a bit exhausted. Surely this was some kind of misunderstanding. Surely if he had needed to look out for Mick in a specific way someone would have told him. He’d ask Mick about it when he woke up.

 

Still, he didn’t want to ignore Lewis.

 

okk 👍

 

You’re doing a good job, George.

The best thing you can do for him right now is just be there for him. Help him stay calm and comfortable and minimize his pain as best as you can.

 

Was Mick in pain? He hadn’t shown any signs of it. Though his forehead was creased like he might have a headache. 

 

ill do my best

hes still slereping but i odnt intend on moving

thank u for the adviocie

 

Of course.

Reach out if you need anything, I’ll try to drop off some food later.

 

George put his phone back into his pocket and gently placed his other hand on Mick’s forehead. Almost instantly, he felt him relax a little bit more. Lightly, George began to rub small circles on his temples and Mick sighed in relief. 

 

Maybe Mick did need a heat pack for his head.

 

He pulled his phone out again.

 

lewus

 

Yes? Is everything okay?

 

yes

could u brong over a heatpack gor mick if u have pne??

 

Of course! Is it urgent, or do you want me to drop it off with the food?

 

with the food is fine. think it might help a bit

 

Okay? Did anything happen? Did he wake up?

 

no but i think he has a headache from everything, so maybe it will be a bit grounding for him

 

Hmm. Might be useful for any cramps as well

 

Cramps? 

 

Well, Mick had gotten sick, so maybe that could have caused cramps?

 

ok thx

make sure u dont get him anything too crazy i dont eant him to get sick again

 

Yes, of course. We were just going to get him some broth.

 

ok good

rhx again

 

George brushed his hand through Mick’s hair. Mick leaned back into his touch, and after a moment of swaying back and forth, Mick finally opened his eyes.

 

“George?” Mick whispered, lips brushing against George’s arm. “Is that you?”

 

“Yeah. Sleep well?”

 

Mick nodded. “I feel a lot better. Thank you.”

 

George wanted to ask Mick what had happened, but given he had literally just gotten up, he really didn’t want to bother him with that. Instead, he went with what first popped into his mind, which just so happened to be: “I ran into Toto today.”

 

“Oh?” 

 

“Yeah. He told me you weren't feeling well?”

 

Mick tensed next to him. “He did?”

 

George sighed. “Mick, you’re not in trouble for not feeling well. You can’t get fired for being sick, it’s against the law.” 

 

“Doesn’t mean someone still can’t try.” 

 

George was stunned into silence at that. Not for the first time he found himself really, really wanting to rip apart everyone at Haas. Mick was such a nice guy, why had he been treated so terribly?

 

“Well,” he finally said. “Toto is not mad at you, and he is not going to fire you and he asked me to tell you that and make sure you understand. Also if he tries to, I am quite literally the GPDA director and I will not let that happen.” 

 

Mick nodded. “Okay.” 

 

“He’s not Gunther,” George said carefully. “He cares about us.” 

 

“I know,” Mick said. “He offered to have someone drive me to the hotel.” 

 

Now it was George’s turn to tense. “Did you take him up on it?” 

 

Mick slowly shook his head. 

 

“Mick,” George sighed. “That wasn’t safe.” 

 

Mick shrugged. “I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone.” 

 

“You getting somewhere safely is not an inconvenience,” George said. “Ever.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

“You got here alright though?” 

 

Mick nodded. “It was fine.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

Mick took a deep breath. “Are you mad?” 

 

“No,” George said quickly. “I’m not mad. I’m just worried.” 

 

“I’m not used to that.” 

 

“Having people worry about you?” 

 

Mick nodded again. 

 

George lay in silence and tried not to let his heart break. He should probably say something. What could he say, what could he- oh yes. 

 

“So, I had another weird conversation with Lewis.” 

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah. It was really strange, he kept making sure that I wasn’t going to leave you- which I won’t do obviously because you aren’t feeling well- and he kept telling me that you needed to tell me something.”

 

“Oh. Weird.”

 

“Yeah, right? Anyway, forgive me if I’m overstepping or anything, and you don’t have to tell me everything, but what happened? Do you need to tell me something? Or was he just being weird again?”

 

Mick sighed, and gently moved George’s arm closer to his face again. George let it happen. If this was what Mick needed to feel safe, then that would be that, and George was more than happy to accommodate Mick's needs. “I think I need to start from the beginning.”

 

“Okay. Take your time.”

 

“Nico Rosberg was at the race. He talked to me during the first red flag, and told me he could smell me. He gave me some of his blockers so I wouldn’t distract you. It took a while to dry, which is why I couldn’t wish you luck before you went out again. I’m really sorry about that, by the way, but I was stuck in the bathroom with my pants to my knees and I couldn’t really do anything but wait.”

 

George tried not to imagine it. It was one hell of a mental image.

 

“Anyway, so the race restarted and it was obviously fine, and then-” Mick paused, looking upset, “-and then your car caught fire. And I just…I don’t know. Shut down? Nico managed to get me away from the cameras and I ran from him, and I got sick in the bathroom and I don’t remember what happened from there but-” Mick’s eyes suddenly widened as he sat up. “Oh fuck .” 

 

George sat up as well, reaching out a tentative hand for Mick. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want to scent me some more? Will that help you?”

 

“I think I know what Lewis was talking about.” Mick mumbled, looking anywhere but George. “Oh my god , we’re such idiots. Oh my god.”

 

“What? What is it?”

 

“When Nico was helping me… he assumed that you were my mate, and told me stress would be bad for the child. I obviously told him we were not mated, and that there was no child-”

 

“Like, to be clear, are we talking about a real, alive human child? Or like a dog?” George frowned.

 

Mick put his head in his hands. “No. Like a not quite alive one.”

 

“I’m not following.”

 

“George,” Mick sighed. He had gone slightly green. “He thought I was pregnant.”

 

Oh.

 

Jesus fucking Christ.

 

“ Fuck .” George swore. He didn’t know what else to say. 

 

“I thought he would assume that I was never pregnant but-” Mick’s face was getting paler and paler as spoke. “George, what did you tell Lewis.”

 

George shakily opened his phone to his texts with Lewis and held it out to him. Almost immediately, Mick shied away from the bright light, and blinked rapidly as he tried to read the messages, making it very obvious that he was still not feeling as well as he was making it out to seem. George pulled the phone away from him. 

 

“I’ll read it to you.”

 

Mick nodded. He was steadily growing more tense. 

 

“Hey,” George said, setting his phone down for a moment. “It’s alright. Whatever they think about us, we will figure it out together, okay? I’m not going anywhere, we’re in this together.

 

Mick nodded.

 

“Good,” George said. “Come lay down on me again so you can relax while I tell you what happened.” He put a hand on Mick’s arm and gently guided him down until he was laying on George’s chest. George’s hand cupped the back of Mick’s head as he directed him towards the scent gland on his neck. He didn’t want Mick to start panicking again. 

 

“Just breathe, love,” George muttered, kissing Mick’s forehead lightly. “I’ve got you.” 

 

After a few breaths Mick’s shoulders were no longer up by his ears. 

 

“Sorry,” Mick muttered, pulling his nose away from George’s scent gland. 

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” George said, running his fingers through Mick’s hair. “I care about you, and I want to help you.” It was the closest thing to a feelings admission that he would say. And based on how Mick nodded against him, clutching his shirt just slightly, he had a feeling Mick understood that. 

 

“So the texts,” George said. “Are you ready for them?”

 

“Yeah,” Mick sounded unsure. 

 

“We can wait a little, if you want?”

 

“No, I want to get it over with.”

 

George scrolled through his and Lewis’s texts until he found the start of where he had been messaging him earlier.

 

“Okay,” George said. “So I told him you were okay, cause he sent me a million messages asking if you were, and that you were scenting me in your sleep. He responded almost instantly and said that I should let you keep doing whatever you needed to calm down. I said that you seemed comfortable but I wished you didn’t have to go through this.”

 

Mick snuggled closer to George. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I’m used to it.”

 

“You shouldn’t be, though,” George ran his fingers through Mick’s hair again.

 

Mick hummed. 

 

George continued reading. “He then said that it’s no one’s fault and that I should support you as best as I can, especially because this has happened to you before. Which I took to mean panic attacks but….” George continued to scroll through the texts, his eyes widening. “He said he was ‘never around for any of Nico’s.’ Then he told me that a heating pad and paracetamol might help you, to keep you hydrated, and I should be checking to make sure you don’t get a fever and if you do I need to bring you to a hospital. He said you should see a doctor. And if you needed to miss the next race accommodations could be made. And also said that we are in no rush to fly out, because, oh, I forgot to mention that. He pretty much insisted that we fly back with him and Nico and that we’re not leaving tomorrow but whenever you’re ready. And he said-“

 

George reread the text, stuttering sightly. “He said that ‘we’re not even going to think about flying until it has passed entirely, it's a recipe for disaster. Just ask Nico.’”

 

Mick tensed again. “George…”

 

“I know, I know,” he muttered. He was beginning to understand what Mick was getting at. “Do you want me to read the rest?”

 

Mick nodded. 

 

“He told me to help you stay calm and comfortable and minimize any pain you’re in, and he said he’s going to bring by some food later,” George paused. “Wait, when was the last time you ate something?” 

 

Mick shrugged. “Before the race. My stomach still kind of hurts, I’m not sure I can keep anything down right now.”

 

Well, that wasn’t good. 

 

“Is there any more?” Mick asked. 

 

“Well…..” George scrolled through the messages. “Um, I did ask him to bring you a heat pack?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it looked like you had a really bad headache and I thought it might help?”

 

Mick groaned.

 

“He also said it might help with cramping.”

 

Mick was quiet. 

 

Too quiet. 

 

“George?” he finally whispered. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I think they think I’m having a miscarriage.”

 

George nodded. He had been afraid he was also coming to that conclusion. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

 

“Fuck.” Mick sounded close to tears again.

 

“Oh-” George breathed. “Don’t worry love, it’ll be okay.”

 

Fuck. 

 

Love?

 

God, George hoped Mick was too out of it to register it.

 

“We can tell them there’s been a mistake,” George said, though as he said it out loud he wasn’t sure that Lewis would believe them. It seemed like it might be a touchy subject for him and Nico. “It’ll be okay.” He sniffled as he tugged Mick closer. He wished he could smell him. 

 

“I don’t think we can just tell them that. You didn’t see how stressed Nico was, they wouldn’t believe us now.”

 

George withdrew his hand from Mick’s grasp and wiped his eyes. “Yeah. You’re right.”

 

“ Hey ,” Mick breathed, twisting around in George’s grasp so he was facing him. His eyes were wide, and George could feel him shaking, but his gaze did not break. Mick gently brought his hand to George’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his face as he wiped away George’s tears. “Georgie, please don’t cry.”

 

George shook his head. “I don’t know what to do, Mick.”

 

“I know. It’s going to be okay though, right?”

 

George could tell the question of reassurance wasn’t just for him, so he nodded, even though he really didn’t think it would be. He leaned into Mick’s touch, almost instinctively (which was something he really wasn’t used to because Betas weren’t supposed to have weird instincts like this) burying his face on Mick’s wrist.

 

He still didn’t smell like anything. 

 

George tried not to let his disappointment show.

 

Mick’s other hand cupped the back of his head, drawing lazy circles as he played with his hair. It felt nice. 

 

George’s eyes had just started to grow heavy when Mick yawned. 

 

“So,” Mick said sleepily. “Do we have a plan?”

 

“A plan?” George nuzzled the top of Mick’s head. He wondered how he had gotten here, really. Not even two months ago he had barely known Mick and now their coworkers had incorrectly thought that they were not only mated but also having a child.

 

This was definitely not how George saw his season going. 

 

“What are we going to tell Nico and Lewis?”

 

George sighed. “I’m not sure.”

 

Mick took another shaky breath. “I feel bad. Nico made it seem like he’s had…. this happen to him before and I don’t want to stress them out or anything.”

 

“It’s not our fault they misunderstood,” George said. 

 

“So we’re not going to tell them they’re wrong?”

 

George frowned. Mick was probably right, they probably wouldn’t believe them. But was this really going to be a bad thing?

 

“Let me google something real quick,” he said.

 

Symptoms of miscarriage.

 

Nausea, vomiting, heightened emotions, bleeding, cramping, tiredness… the list went on. And unfortunately, Mick seemed to have almost all of those symptoms. Aside from the part that he would have had to have been pregnant in the first place. And the bleeding.

 

What helps a miscarriage?

 

Rest. Laying in a bed or a nest. Being with your mate. Scenting. Time.

 

George kept scrolling. There was something about prescription drugs and medical procedures that he skipped over, it said they were rare anyway. Theoretically, if Mick had been having a miscarriage it should pass in a few days. So Nico and Lewis were probably expecting Mick to be out of it for at least another day or two.

 

“Mick?” 

 

“Hm?”

 

George considered his words carefully. “Are you usually this out of it after a panic attack?”

 

Mick sleepily shook his head. “Not usually, though this is the worst one I’ve had in a long time.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yeah-” Mick yawned again. “I don’t know why it was so much worse. Or even why I feel so awful right now.”

 

“So,” George took a deep breath. ”If you feel terrible, would it really be the end of the world to let yourself rest for a few days?” 

 

“Huh?”

 

“It says that, when someone's having a, well, you know what , they generally just kind of rest and sleep for a few days to let it, um, pass. So. If you’re being given a free pass to basically just do nothing for a few days….” he trailed off. Breaks were rare in their line of work. And if he had to tell a few white lies to get Mick one, was it really the worst thing?

 

“Yeah,” Mick sighed. “It would be nice to just sleep and not worry about anything. I know I’ve been stressed and I’m still so tired.”

 

“Okay, well, since you’re still tired, why don’t you go back to sleep?”

 

Mick was quiet for a moment. “Will you leave?”

 

Oh.

 

George began to pull away from Mick, though he really didn’t want to.

 

“I don’t want to sleep if you’ll leave.” Mick mumbled, clinging to him. “Please don’t.”

 

Oh .

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Mick.” George said as he settled back into the bed. He wrapped his arms around Mick again and let Mick move him wherever he wanted.

 

“I think…” Mick started, sounding a bit uncertain. “I think I’ve never felt, um, safe enough to just relax. So I think now that I’m here, I’m catching up on all the sleep I didn’t realize I’ve missed.”

 

“Oh. I’m glad you feel safe-” with me? “-at Mercedes.”

 

“No.”

 

George froze. “What?”

 

When Mick spoke again his voice was soft. “Like yes I feel safer at Mercedes, but I’m talking about with you.”

 

George looked up at the ceiling and tried more than anything not to cry. “Thank you,” his voice cracked horribly. “Thank you for saying that. You also make me feel-” he cleared his throat “You make me feel safe as well.”

 

Mick mumbled something unintelligible into his neck. 

 

“Huh?”

 

“Nothing. Can I go back to sleep on you?”

 

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

 

“Okay. Thank you.”

 

“Mick.” George mumbled, suddenly nervous. “Before you sleep-”

 

“Yea?”

 

“When we- at the park- um- you said we could kiss. Does that still…you know… apply?”

 

Mick shrugged. “Do you want to kiss me?”

 

“Um.” George bit his lip. “I’m sorry we don’t have to and I know you’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you don’t even want to start to think about that whole thing and I don’t want to take advantage of you and I just- I just really care for you. Like maybe too much, and I just really wanted to kiss you before you fell asleep, as like a goodnight kiss, I don’t want to do anything more I swear, but whatever you want to do is fine and I can go if you want me to but-”

 

“George.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Mick was smiling. “Just give me a kiss.”

 

“But like, you want it, right?”

 

“Yes, Georgie. Do you need me to fucking beg? Because I will.”

 

That was… a mental image.

 

George tried to hold back his gasp, or at the very least think of anything that would keep him from getting hard.

 

Mick was snickering.

 

George just kept trying to think about tyre pressure, and like, Sakhir 2020, the Williams car in 2019…

 

None of it was working.

 

Mick was still laughing, definitely feeling the effects of George’s discomfort.

 

“Maybe another time?” George offered, trying not to sound too pushy. “I’d just like to kiss you.”

 

“Then just do it, Georgie.”

 

Mick’s words spurred him into action, so he delicately cupped Mick’s face and kissed him as gently as he could.

 

They lay there, alternating between kissing and just holding each other for some time, before Mick finally drifted off to sleep.

 

George was relieved. 

 

He had never seen a panic attack take this much of a toll on someone. 

 

And maybe whatever their instincts were had played some kind of a role in it, since Mick seeing George’s PU failure had been what had set it off, but that would have to mean that there was something deeper going on than just being able to smell each other and George really couldn’t think about that right now.  

 

If he could provide Mick some comfort at all, that was good enough for him. They could figure everything else out later. 

 

He watched Mick’s chest rise and fall. He was tucked safely into George’s side, head right near his scent gland. George didn’t want to let him go for anything. 

 

And of course, that was when there was a light knock on the door. He thought about ignoring it, it was Mick's room after all, not his. But then his phone buzzed with a text from Lewis. 

 

I’m at the door with food and some stuff. Do you want me to just leave it out here for you? 

 

George tried not to groan too loudly. He didn’t want to leave Mick, but he also probably needed to talk to Lewis and see if there was any digging themselves out of the hole that they were in. 

 

i’m coming. 

 

George gently detached himself from Mick. Thankfully, Mick didn’t wake up. 

 

“I’ll be quick,” he still whispered. 

 

Mick continued to sleep. 

 

George padded over to the door and opened it as quietly as he could. 

 

A very concerned looking Lewis Hamilton greeted him. Shit.

 

“Hey,” Lewis said, handing him a large paper bag. “Sorry, I’ll be quick. I would have sent Nico, cause I wasn’t sure how Mick would respond to another Alpha even though I’m wearing blockers, but Nico’s, uh, not feeling too great at the moment. This is a bit of a hard thing for him to watch.”

 

Oh great. So Nico had had this happen to him before. 

 

“It’s okay,” Geroge whispered. “He’s sleeping now anyway.”

 

Lewis peeked into the room and frowned. “He hasn’t made a nest yet?”

 

Oh fuck. George had forgotten about those. 

 

“Um.”

 

Lewis was staring at him expectantly, and George knew that this would be the perfect time to try and fix the mess he and Mick had already made for themselves, but then Lewis was looking back into the room, and sniffing the air and-

 

“He doesn’t- he doesn’t really like them that much. Said he just wanted me and to be warm, so-”

 

Lewis tilted his head, looking confused. “Really?”

 

“That’s all he wanted. I didn’t want to force anything.”

 

And now Lewis was nodding along with him, still frowning, though he looked a bit less like he was about to start lecturing George on how to be a good Alpha or something. “This may be a weird thing to note but…” Lewis sighed. “I only smell you. Is he wearing blockers?”

 

Damn it all to Hell.

 

Why was Lewis so fucking observant?

 

George shrugged. “He didn’t want to smell himself. It was apparently overwhelming.”

 

“But you’re not wearing-”

 

Now George was kind of getting annoyed. “Listen, Lewis. I don’t know why. He wanted to smell just me, okay? It’s his life and his business to do whatever he wants, especially now.”

 

Lewis’ jaw dropped.

 

Good. 

 

Maybe he’d actually leave them alone.

 

Oh.

 

Oh no.

 

Now Lewis looked like he was about to cry.

 

“I’m sorry for overstepping.” He began. “It’s just that after everything, especially with what happened in 2016… I just…” Lewis shook his head, looking like he was a million miles away. “I’m just glad he’s not racing. After Barcelona…and I wasn’t there for him.”

 

Jesus Christ.

 

Well it wasn’t like George could say that it had all been a misunderstanding now.

 

“Oh. I’m so, so sorry. Is it, um, insensitive if I ask if that’s why the rules are-”

 

It was definitely insensitive, but it would at least take the focus off of Mick. And George knew the racing rules. The particular one about not being allowed to race while pregnant had evolved out of a Ferrari PR scandal about them all being Omegas or something that he was pretty sure had been started by Sebastian in 2017. It had nothing to do with Nico, but it was a distraction. 

 

Lewis laughed at that, but he still looked on the verge of tears. “No- no, we didn’t- well, I didn’t know in 2016. That was at first an unspoken rule from the early 2000’s or so. It all came from some rumor about-” Lewis lowered his voice “- Michael . Because you know, the whole Ferrari conspiracy theory thing about all their drivers being Omegas.”

 

George did not know that part of it. He tried to mask his surprise.

 

“But unfortunately-”

 

Behind them, there came a noise from the bed.

 

Oh God.

 

George’s heart dropped, as he realized what the sound was.

 

Mick was crying.

 

He turned and ran to the bed, completely disregarding Lewis’ presence because he didn’t fucking matter now, all that mattered was Mick.

 

“Hey, hey, love? Are you okay?” George knelt by the bed so his face was level with Mick’s. “Love, talk to me, please.”

 

Mick shook his head, his face burrowed in the sheets and blankets. 

 

“Mick, please.” George really wasn’t sure what to do. He was rubbish at helping people when they were crying, and of all people, he didn't want to make Mick feel worse. “I’m right here, I didn’t go anywhere, you can scent me if you want, just please look at me so I know you’re okay.”

 

It took a bit more coaxing, but eventually George managed to convince Mick to look at him. His tear stained face was almost too much for George to handle, but he pushed through it. One of his hands ended up in Mick’s hair, rubbing gently at the base of his neck, the other was by his face, just close enough where Mick could smell him.

 

Thankfully, it seemed to do the trick, and by the time George had encouraged Mick to tuck his head in the crook of George’s neck, he was no longer crying.  

 

George looked up at the door. 

 

Lewis was still standing there. 

 

Why the fuck was he still standing there, leaving the door open wide to the world so just anyone could see Mick crying?

 

“Lewis.” He hissed. “Why are you still here?”

 

“Do you-” Lewis wiped his eyes. “Do you both need anything?”

 

Oh.

 

Lewis was crying .

 

“Um,” George mumbled, trying not to rouse Mick. “Just leave the food and heat pack in here. Thanks.”

 

Lewis nodded once, set the food and heat pack down, and finally left.

 

George turned back to Mick, who had somehow managed to fall asleep again. It would have been cute- Mick’s face tucked into George’s neck and how he just seemed to rest whenever he could smell him- had George not been concerned. 

 

But was this also, in a very fucked up way, a good sign that they could be scent compatible. Or, at the very least maybe it meant Mick cared about him enough to trust him. And George had a feeling that it took a lot for Mick to trust someone, which is why he stayed kneeling on the floor for over half an hour because he didn’t want to wake Mick back up.

 

“Georgie?” Mick whispered some time later, voice raspy. “Why are you on the floor?”

 

“You were asleep.”

 

“And?”

 

“You’re on me, Mick. I couldn’t wake you up.”

 

Mick rolled over onto the bed. “Sorry.”

 

“For what?” George asked, leaning against the bed as he stood up. His knees cracked painfully and buckled underneath him, causing him to stumble and fall. But before he could hit the ground, there were large, strong hands wrapped around George’s waist. 

 

“You okay?” Mick asked. He was sitting up now on the bed with his hands wrapped securely around George and looking like he was about to faint. “That sounded painful.”

 

“It was.” George joked, still distracted by Mick’s hands on his waist. “You have big hands.” George grimaced. He had not meant to say that aloud. “Sorry.”

 

Mick simply pulled him closer and onto the bed, so he was sitting on Mick’s lap. His hands were on George’s hips, keeping him steady. “Glad I still have my reflexes?”

 

George nodded. Enthusiastically. Mick’s reflexes were the reason he was sitting on Mick’s lap, and Mick’s lap was rather comfortable.

 

Mick looked like he was about to start asking questions about his knees. George did not want to get into his fucked up joints right now. Not when Mick’s hands were on him and he really, really wished that he could smell him. 

 

If you asked George later, that is what he would blame what he said next on.

 

“Mick.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you…” George looked away from him. “Mick, do you think we might be scent compatible? Because your thing with my scent is kind of insane, and I know you just had a long day, but seriously I don’t think what’s going on is normal.”

 

Mick didn’t respond.

 

George felt a bit like he was going to cry. He had ruined everything, and now it was going to be awkward, and he was going to have to explain to Lewis that they weren’t even together and that Mick hated him because he was an idiot who brought things up when he shouldn’t have and everything, that possibility of hope to not be alone, was all going out the window and-

 

“Yeah.” 

 

It was so quiet that George nearly missed it. 

 

“What?”

 

“I think, um, it’s possible. I just don’t know how we’d be able to tell.” Mick shifted under him, wincing slightly. 

 

George got off of his lap, choosing to instead sit next to him on the bed. He didn’t want to crush Mick. No matter how impressive his thighs were, they were not meant for holding George sized people.

 

Mick looked slightly disappointed at George’s now lack of contact, so he scooted until their shoulders were brushing.

 

George took a deep breath and stared at his hands. Hopefully Mick wouldn’t get mad about this. “Well, ah, I may have told Charles.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Charles? Leclerc? The Ferrari driver?”

 

“Yes, I know who Charles is,” Mick sighed. “What does he have to do with us being scent compatible?” 

 

“Well, I was having a crisis about the scent thing,” George said quickly, hoping that Mick wouldn’t read too much into it. “And he already knew you were a Beta because of something about brunch with Seb and mimosas? He didn’t really elaborate. Anyway, I could trust him, and he thinks it’s possible. And he mentioned some quizzes.”

 

Charles had not mentioned quizzes. George had done an unholy amount of research and stumbled across the quizzes, but that would probably just creep Mick out, so George decided to blame him. It wasn’t like Charles would ever find out or anything.

 

Mick frowned. “Like medical ones?”

 

“No, like Buzzfeed and a few others from more reputable places,” That was another lie. He had only found Buzzfeed ones. Which was why it made it easier to blame the whole thing on Charles because he was the kind of fool who would read Buzzfeed. “But apparently it’s not so much as a scientific thing, it’s really just way too variable for that. So, it’s very feasible, that if we say we are, and if we follow what seems to be the checklist and everything fits, we probably could very well be…you know?”

 

Mick nodded. “So, do we just take the quizzes and see what happens?”

 

“I guess? I think the point of some of them is to make you really think about it, rather than it being a definite thing.” George fidgeted with his pants. He hadn’t foreseen him and Mick doing this so soon.

 

“Is it fucked though because we’re both Betas? In my own research I found a lot of different arguments, mostly that it was rare for Betas to be scent compatible,” Mick said. “But I think I was going at it from a different angle than you were.” 

 

George at least felt marginally better now that he knew he hadn’t been the only one obsessively researching it. “Hmm. I found that the actual scent compatibility comes from the actual smell itself, so us being Betas has nothing to do with it. Which is why anyone can be scent compatible, regardless of designation. It’s just rarer for us because we have a pretty shit sense of smell.”

 

Mick shrugged. “That makes sense, I guess. I think you looked at more relevant things than I did.” He looked up. “Do you have a shit sense of smell?” 

 

George tried not to think too hard about Alex and how hard he had tried to smell him. Or the fact that he had been told from a young age that his scent glands were on the smaller side or how he had failed the smell test a record seven times in school.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s really bad.”

 

“But you can smell like…things?” Mick seemed concerned. He picked up George’s hand absently. 

 

“Yeah,” George said. “I can smell like normal stuff, maybe not as well as everyone else can, but I can. And I can smell some people, but usually only when they’re having really heightened emotions. And not too many people can smell me, and really only if I’m stressed.”

 

Mick drew circles on the back of George’s hand. “But you can smell me?” 

 

“Yes,” George closed his eyes. I wish I could smell you right now. “I can smell you.” 

 

“Well, that’s really all that matters then, right?” 

 

George tried to ignore the swell of emotion in his chest. “Yeah. I suppose. Do you still want to take the quiz?”

 

“I think…” Mick trailed off, resting his head on George’s shoulder. “I think it couldn’t hurt. Because no matter what happens, I still l-” Mick shook his head. “I still care about you.”

 

George smiled. “I agree. I care about you too much to just let you go over some Buzzfeed quizzes.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“So the quizzes?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Wait,” George frowned. “Are you okay with looking at screens? You had a really bad headache earlier.” 

 

Mick shrugged. “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay as long as it isn’t for too long.” 

 

George nodded. He caught sight of the bag that Lewis had left by the door. “Oh, while we’re doing this, are you up for eating something?” 

 

Mick considered. “I think so. Do you know what it is?” 

 

“Let’s find out,” George said. “Lewis brought it while you were sleeping.” 

 

He got up off the bed and grabbed the paper bag off of the floor. Inside were two containers, one with some kind of soup the other with what looked like broth. Then there was a heat pack, a packet of paracetamol and a ziplock bag of….something.

 

George squinted at the bag. 

 

“Do you know what these are?” George asked, holding the bag up for Mick to see. 

 

Mick burst out laughing. After a long day of misery, it was an absolutely joyous sound. 

 

George put his hands on his hips. “Well? Are you going to share with the class?” 

 

“Open one!” Mick said, between laughs. 

 

George rolled his eyes but pulled one of the mystery objects out of the bag and ripped open the package. He unfolded it and-

 

Oh.

 

It was a pad. 

 

Like one for catching blood. 

 

Christ.

 

Mick was still laughing. 

 

“Hush, would you,” George groaned, picking up the heat pad and the containers and walking back towards the bed. “It’s not my fault my sister is like, ten years older than me.” 

 

Mick at least had the decency to move over to make room for him on the bed. 

 

George set the containers on the night stand and plugged in the heat pad first, handing it to Mick. 

 

“What is this for?” Mick asked. 

 

“Well, you were shaking earlier,” George said. “So I figured you must have been cold, and it might help ground you a little.” 

 

Mick shrugged. “I do run really cold.” 

 

George filed that information away for later as he tucked the heat pad around Mick’s stomach. “There,” he said. “Now we’re covered in case Lewis decides to stick his head back in here again.” 

 

“Did he do that earlier?” 

 

George tried not to groan. “Yeah. He asked me why you hadn’t made a nest.” 

 

Mick paled. “I forgot about those.” 

 

“I did too.” 

 

“What did you say?” 

 

George took the lid off of the container of broth and handed it to Mick. “Something about how you just wanted me. Sorry if that was overstepping. I just wanted him to leave us alone.” 

 

Mick paused inspecting the broth to stare at George with his big blue eyes. “No, that was exactly right.” 

 

Oh. 

 

“You- um- you don’t have to eat all of that,” George stuttered. “Like, don’t get sick again.” 

 

“I won’t,” Mick said, tentatively taking a sip of the broth. “I think I’ll be fine.” 

 

George tried very hard not to stare at Mick’s massive hands wrapped around the container of broth. He took a sip of his own soup. It was good, but he wasn’t sure how much he was going to be able to eat. He didn’t eat a lot when he got stressed. 

 

“So, the quiz?” Mick said. 

 

“Right.” George picked up his phone, sending the link to Mick. 

 

Mick squinted at his own phone.

 

“Wait,” George took Mick’s phone from him and turned down the brightness all the way and put on night shift. “Hopefully that’s a little better.”

 

Mick smiled appreciatively before opening the link. 

 

“How to tell if you’re scent compatible,” he read. “Well? Are you ready?” 

 

George nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

 

Mick laughed again. “C’mon Georgie,” he said. “It’s a Buzzfeed quiz, it’s not the end of the world.” 

 

George nodded. “Can I still have a kiss for good luck?” 

 

“Whatever you want, princess.” Mick lightly kissed his lips. 

 

Princess? 

 

George really hoped that they were scent compatible. 

 

He opened the quiz. 

 

Question 1: Can you smell each other?

 

George hit yes. So far so good.

 

Question 2: Do you feel safe with them? 

 

The choices were Yes, regardless of their scent; Yes, their scent plays a factor; No. 

 

He definitely knew that he felt safe with Mick. But he hadn’t smelled him a whole lot. But he would like to think that Mick’s scent would make him feel safe. 

 

He tentatively pressed Yes, their scent plays a factor and hoped that it wasn’t cheating. 

 

Question 3: Do you actively seek out their scent (find things that smell like them/try to recreate the scent yourself)?

 

Almost shamefully, George clicked yes.

 

Question 4: Do you actively seek out their clothes because of the smell?

 

Another tricky one. He technically had not had the option to seek out Mick’s clothes, but he would have if he had the option. He hit yes again and tried not to overthink it. 

 

Question 5: Have you scented each other?

 

Well. George had scented Mick accidentally. But he supposed it still counted. Yes again. 

 

Question 6: Do you crave their scent when you are apart?

 

Another quick yes. 

 

Question 7: Have you gotten turned on by their smell alone?

 

Considering that George had not been able to stop thinking about Mick’s sweet, lemonade smell after that one time….he hit yes again.

 

Question 8: Does their smell help during your heat or rut?

 

Not applicable.

 

Question 9: Do they smell better during their heat or rut?

 

Another non applicable. George hoped that that wouldn’t skew the results.

 

Question 10: Can others tell when you have been with them based on how you smell?

 

Hm. He really didn’t know. Considering his smell was so light anyway, he was inclined to think not. Reluctantly, he hit no.

 

Question 11: Does everyone else smell bad to you except them?

 

George bit his lip. They didn’t really smell bad, he just couldn’t smell them. But that was not the question. He clicked no. 

 

Question 12: Have you ever masturbated to their scent?

 

George looked up. Mick’s face was bright red. He wondered if he was on the same question. 

 

George clicked no. Though he probably would have if he had anything that smelled like Mick. 

 

Question 13: Do you smell good together? 

 

Hm. George didn’t know. They had never tried that before. 

 

He had heard the stories. About mates who smelled so good together that other people noticed and could tell they were mated by just their scent alone. 

 

“Mick?” 

 

“Hm?” 

 

“Did you get to question thirteen yet?” 

 

“Yeah…” Mick looked up. “We’ve never tried that.” 

 

“That’s because you always wear blockers.” 

 

“Yeah.” Mick sighed. “I know it's really easy for people to tell when I’m stressed, and I didn’t want you to worry. I’m sorry.”

 

That made sense. 

 

But it was still unnecessary. 

 

“Mick,” George squeezed his hand in his, and looked Mick in the eye. “I appreciate you being so considerate, but I,” he sighed. “I feel better when I can smell you. If you’re really putting on blockers for just me, for times like this, I would much rather you didn’t. I already can’t smell most people, so just…if you really are trying to do this for my sake, I wish you wouldn’t.”

 

Mick’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? I’ve been told, by those who can actually smell me, that it’s quite distinct.”

 

“I don’t care. I just want you.”

 

It was dangerously close to a confession. 

 

Mick bit his lip. “You already have me, Georgie.”

 

That too, felt like a confession. 

 

“I still can’t smell you right now because of the blockers though.”

 

“We are in my hotel room, you know. I can just shower.”

 

Oh. 

 

George had almost forgotten. 

 

“Yeah, but I don’t trust you won’t fall over in the shower and get murdered by your shampoo bottle or something.”

 

Mick laughed. “If you feel so strongly about me getting attacked by soap, why don’t you just come in and sit on the floor.”

 

“Um.” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You’d be okay with that?”

 

Mick gave him an incredulous look. “I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t comfortable with it. Besides, I know I can trust you. Also, don’t act like seeing me shirtless, again, would be so scandalous. You’re the one with about three thousand pictures of yourself shirtless online.”

 

George raised an eyebrow. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

 

Yikes. 

 

That was way too forward. 

 

Mick cleared his throat. His ears were bright red. “Shower time?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Mick stumbled out of bed, and made his way over to his luggage. He opened the suitcase on the floor and there it was: George’s missing shirt. 

 

“So that’s where that went,” George grinned, setting his hand on Mick’s shoulder.

 

Mick was tense again. “I’m so so sorry, I was just so scared and I-”

 

“Next time just ask for one, and I’ll do some push-ups in it or something, and it’ll be yours,” George shrugged. “That way I don’t keep missing shirts randomly.”

 

“Um. Thank you.” Mick mumbled. “Same for you as well?”

 

George blinked. That was seriously an option now? 

 

“Thank you. Now why don’t you get in the shower so we can see if we’re compatible.”

 

Mick grabbed some clothing from the suitcase, and began yanking off his own shirt and tossed it into a plastic bag filled with other (what George presumed to be) dirty clothes. George did not care about dirty clothes though, not when Mick was, once again, shirtless in front of him. 

 

And then he was stepping out of his sweats and his thighs were also on full display and George actually had to forcibly drag his eyes away. 

 

”C’mon,” Mick winked. “Come make sure I don’t fall over and get murdered by a stray shampoo bottle.” 

 

George followed him into the bathroom like a lost puppy. 

 

He played with the string on his joggers as Mick got into the shower. “Are you sure you’re okay to do this? I don’t want you to get dizzy.”

 

“The food helped, I’ll be okay,” Mick said, sticking his face out of the shower curtain. “And if I’m not you’ll just have to catch me. It’ll be a good test of your reflexes.”

 

George did not want to think about his reflexes when Mick was naked with only a curtain separating them.

 

So he didn’t. 

 

He overthought instead. 

 

By the time the water had turned off and George handed Mick his towel, he was digging his nails into his palm. 

 

“You ready?” Mick asked, as George left the room for Mick to put on his clothes. 

 

George shrugged. Then remembered Mick couldn’t see him. “I don’t know.”

 

Mick frowned and pushed open the door. “What’s wrong?”

 

“What if I can’t smell you?” George muttered. 

 

“Well you could smell me before so I don’t see why that would change.”

 

“What if you smell bad?” George looked up at Mick, expecting him to be laughing. 

 

Mick was not laughing. He looked equally as scared. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because, Georgie,” Mick toweled off his hair. “You smell fucking fantastic. And I really want to give you the same level of comfort you give me.”

 

Tears welled up in George’s eyes. He turned his head and just hoped Mick hadn’t noticed. 

 

He tried not to think about the fact that he could barely smell Mick as he wandered back towards the bed. He lay down on the far side of the bed. Mick lay down on the other. He could barely smell him.

 

George’s heart dropped. He could barely smell Mick. 

 

“Do you smell anything?” Mick asked, quietly.

 

George tapped his fingers on his thigh, hoping that just maybe it just needed to take a moment for him to be able to smell him. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t. I’m sorry, Mick.”

 

“Hey, you were able to smell me before, so it’s probably fine,” Mick sounded remarkably calm. George wondered if he was trying to maintain it for his sake or if he actually wasn’t stressed about this. “And I did just shower so maybe I’m…too clean?” 

 

That… actually made sense.

 

“We could do like fifteen jumping jacks?” George suggested.

 

“It couldn’t hurt?”

 

“Only if you’re up to it,” George said quickly. “I know you haven’t been feeling well and I don’t want you to pass out or anything or-“

 

“Georgie,” Mick placed a tentative hand on the bed as if he was reaching for him, but then thought better of it. “I’m a professional athlete. I think I can handle some jumping jacks.”

 

George nodded. 

 

And then they both rolled out of bed, and began doing what was possibly the most stressful jumping jacks of George’s life. After they finished that (and Mick finished doing a few more push-ups that he claimed were for just in case he needed ‘extra juicing,’ though George was pretty sure he was just showing off), they lay back on opposite sides of the bed.

 

“What about now?”

 

George sniffed the best he could. It was slightly lemon-y, but nothing like he had smelled in the garage. Had it all been a fluke then? 

 

“I can’t. Not well. I’m really sorry, Mick. I don’t think-”

 

“For God’s sake, George.” And then Mick was pulling George on top of him, tilting his head away and-

 

Woah.

 

George heard himself gasp, feeling less in control of himself than he ever had before. 

 

It was like he was back in his driver’s room again, and all that there was was Mick: the strong, sweet smell of lemonade. And George. His scent was there too. He was pretty sure he was making several horrible and cringeworthy noises as well, though Mick clearly didn’t mind all that much as he was also hiding his face in George’s neck and sounded a bit like he was sobbing.

 

Oh.

 

No.

 

That was just him.

 

George was the one who was sobbing.

 

Mick’s hands were in his hair, holding him in place. George wrapped his arms around Mick in return, and gently pushed him back on the bed so they were both lying down. 

 

“Georgie?” Mick whispered, tears falling down his face. “Georgie, can I kiss you?”

 

He nodded.

 

Their lips met.

 

George pulled away from him. 

 

He cautiously sniffed the air. 

 

Oh .

 

It smelled like lemonade, not just a little, but like if George had dunked his face into a bowl of freshly squeezed and sugared lemonade.

 

“I-” George gasped. “I- you-”

 

“ Yeah .”

 

“Why do you think-?”

 

“I don’t know, but if you can now then it doesn’t matter right?”

 

“Right.” George stared at him, feeling just a bit like he was drunk. “Right.”

 

They looked at each other for a moment, before Mick pulled George into what was possibly the best kiss of his life. 

 

It was nothing like George had ever felt before, not even during their first kiss at the park, because not only was Mick a fantastic kisser, but because the way that their scents intermingled around them was really making George want to never move again. It didn’t help that everytime they pulled each other closer, into deeper and deeper kisses, Mick was definitely moaning quietly.

 

Or that might have been George. He didn’t know.

 

What he did know was this: He and Mick were definitely scent compatible, and he definitely was head over heels in love for a lovely, kind, brilliant man who loved him back. 

 

George lost track of how many times they had kissed when Mick all but collapsed against his chest. 

 

“I think,” he muttered hoarsely. “I think this is what it’s supposed to be like.”

 

George nodded. “So you don’t want to finish that quiz then?”

 

Mick laughed, his nose still pressed against George’s neck. “I want to sleep for at least twelve hours with you.” 

 

George smiled, kissing Mick’s hair again. Now that he wasn’t stressed about the smell thing, he was actually quite tired. He had nearly forgotten about his disaster of a race. Normally he would stifle to barely stay asleep for a few hours, but here, with Mick in his arms, he thought he might actually be able to get a full night's rest.

 

“So you don’t want me to leave?”

 

“God no,” Mick muttered. “Besides, I’m having a miscarriage, remember? Lewis would probably kill you.”

 

That would be inconvenient. 

 

George was about to point that out when he heard soft snores coming from Mick. His hair was everywhere, ticking the underside of George’s chin. But he didn’t care. 

 

“Goodnight, love,” George whispered. He just managed to reach over and flick off the light. 

 

And as Mick tucked his head in George’s neck to sleep, George was reminded of one last thing that he knew:

 

Mick was totally going to kill him when George properly explained how much he managed to fuck up the Nico and Lewis situation.

Notes:

ok im fr going to respond to comments now that ik itll be anon!!! thanks for all the comments, pls kudos and comment and all that! thank u all love u!

Chapter 10: YOU THOUGHT THEYD STOP BEING IDIOTS??? HAHAHAHAHAHAH

Summary:

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, whatd u expect. aka: morge get their shit together, and somehow also make everything so, so, so much worse. prepare to be infuriated.

Notes:

so remember that explicit tag?????? haha funny story

 

Mick woke up to the smell of Earl Gray tea, someone’s arms wrapped tightly around him, and someone snoring very loudly directly in his ear. He was still exhausted and his head hurt, but he was warm and felt safer than he had ever woken up before, which was really nice.

 

But unfortunately, Mick was just a guy.

 

And because of that, he really needed to use the bathroom, but getting up would be nearly impossible because he had a very tall, very long person grabbing onto him.

 

George .

 

Mick craned his head up to look at George’s sleeping face. He had been asleep with his head tucked into George’s shoulder and chest, with his face completely pressed against one of George’s scent glands on his neck. George smelled really good, and he looked so peaceful that Mick hated to rouse him. But he really, really needed to get up.

 

He began trying to roll out of George’s arms, but found himself stuck once George flopped his body on top of him.

 

“Georgie.” Mick rasped, “I need to go.”

 

George opened his eyes, stared at Mick, and pouted.

 

It was adorable, especially since George was very obviously fighting the urge to go back to sleep. But also, Mick really needed to get up.

 

It was embarrassing enough to have spent the whole night before crying on George, he didn’t need to like, add pissing himself to the list. He shuddered. It would be horrible. He tried to leave George’s grasp again, but to no avail.

 

“Fuck.” He swore, grabbing hold of one of George’s hands. He pushed it away from him and tried to scoot under it. George somehow managed to stop him again. “Georgie, you need to let me up, please.”

 

George shook his head.

 

“George, please. I promise I’ll come back to you, I just really really need to use the restroom.”

 

George finally let go of him, and Mick practically sprinted to the bathroom. As soon as he left George’s arms, it felt that all of his energy dissipated, and the dizziness and sickness from the night before was slowly coming back. Needless to say, Mick did what he needed to do (which included brushing his teeth in case George wanted to kiss him again) as quickly as humanly possible.

 

Once he managed to crawl back into George’s arms, Mick felt some of the fatigue slip away again. George immediately tucked his face back into Mick’s neck, and Mick could feel him scenting him and-

 

It was really nice.

 

It felt right .

 

And suddenly every way that Mick had forced himself to be okay with the idea that he’d be stuck alone with no one but his dogs seemed to crumble underneath him.

 

He could never be happy with just that anymore.

 

Not when he had felt this- George’s arms around his waist, face delicately kissing the inside of his neck, their smells gracefully intermingling as their bodies tangled around each other, and the two of them just sinking into happy comfort for the first time. 

 

Not when he knew he must have been destined for this moment and to relive it every time he woke up in the morning with George’s body leaning against him, breathing him in when he could, and knowing what being loved felt like.

 

Mick had never felt content before, but now he was sure this is what contentment felt like.

 

It felt like a warm breath on his neck, snoring in his ear, and the scent of earl gray tea and lemonade hanging in the air.

 

It was just George.

 

George, who was finally stirring and beginning to leave delicate kisses on his neck.

 

“Georgie?” Mick whispered. “What are we doing?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Like, you’re in bed with me, scenting and kissing me, but… what are we doing? I can’t just be friends, George and I know you don’t want that either.”

 

“I want you.”

 

“Yes, but how ?”

 

George shrugged. He still looked dazed.

 

“I mean, we can’t mate, can we? So-” Mick took a shaky breath. “So what are we doing?”

 

“I don’t know. I mean, Charles told me…” George yawned. “Charles told me there’s gotta be a way. Cause there’s too many people on Earth for there not to be.”

 

It was a fair point, but in his research Mick hadn’t found anything indicating that it actually existed.

 

“So what do we do now? I don’t want to just give up.”

 

“I know. Neither do I.”

 

“Then?”

 

“Mick, love-” Mick’s eyes widened. Love ? “I’m very tired, and I know you’re also tired. Why don’t we just go back to sleep and figure it out in the morning?”

 

Mick poked at his phone on the nightstand. “It’s noon.”

 

“Afternoon, then. It’s too bloody early for this conversation. I love you, our scents are weird and magical, and it’s going to be okay.”

 

Wait.

 

What?

 

“You love me?”

 

George nodded, head falling back onto Mick’s shoulder. His scent was beginning to turn to the oversteeped, overwhelmingly anxious smell Mick had smelled during the red flag. It was still not pleasant. 

 

And then Mick fully realized what George had said.

 

George loved him.

 

“ Oh .” Mick breathed, “You love me.”

 

“Yes.”

 

The smell only worsened.

 

“I-” A tear slid down his face. “I love you too, Georgie.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mick felt George open his mouth to speak, and realized with a start that George was about to start listening fucking reasons why Mick shouldn’t love him. He didn’t want to hear it. Not when whatever George believed was probably untrue. “Can I kiss you?”

 

George’s scent was (thankfully) calming down a bit, though now it just smelled a bit like Mick had poured honey into a cup of tea. Mick wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was probably better than stress. 

 

George kissed him.

 

It was just as good as the time before, and as Mick found himself being pressed down into the bed, Mick knew he needed to ask George again before they got sidetracked.

 

“Georgie,” Mick panted. “Georgie, I need an answer from you. What are we?”

 

George put his hand under Mick’s chin, his long fingers tilting Mick’s head up so he could look at him. His eyes were sleepy, but fond. Mick could wake up to them every day and not get tired of it. “Well, you can be my boyfriend, yeah? We don’t have to court to be together.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Right.

 

Mick had forgotten that was an option, even though in many cases dating was just seen as something very casual, which was definitely not the case for them.

 

“-And if we find a way we can mate, then maybe we can try courting.” George spoke. “But until then, stop worrying your pretty head about all of this.”

 

“Okay,” Mick could live with that for now. “Then if we’re done with this, can we return to what we were doing before once I get a cup of water and you brush your teeth? Your scent is lovely, but your breath is bad.”

 

George laughed. “Sure. Though I don’t have my toothbrush here, so I’m going to have to dip back into my room to grab it.”

 

Mick sighed loudly. He was about to offer George mouthwash when he remembered that he had run out and George also seemed like the kind of guy to actually want to use toothpaste. Which Mick could appreciate. 

 

“I suppose,” he pouted. 

 

“You suppose?” George ruffled his hair. “What? Are you going to shrivel up and die without me here?” 

 

Yes. “No.”

 

“Alright then love,” George said, starting to get out of bed. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

 

Mick could only watch as George tugged on his stupid zip up hoodie, jammed on his shoes, and walked out of the room. 

 

As soon as he left, all of the energy seeped out of Mick. All of his limbs felt heavier and his eyes kept trying to fall closed. 

 

He pushed it aside and swung his feet onto the floor so he could get up to grab a water bottle. 

 

It was harder to do than he would ever care to admit. 

 

Each step felt like he was dragging his feet through sand and he had to concentrate to stay upright as the floor swam beneath him. 

 

He knew the panic attack had been bad, but he also knew that he should not still be feeling this way. 

 

George reentered the room just as he was struggling to open the water bottle. 

 

“Whoa there,” he said, quickly sliding behind Mick and wrapping a strong arm around his waist. “What happened?” 

 

Mick knew better than to lie. “Got dizzy,” he said honestly, leaning back on George. 

 

“Are you still dizzy?” George’s scent was turning slightly bitter. 

 

Mick opened his eyes. The room no longer seemed to be spinning. And George was quite solid behind him. “I think I’m okay? I might just need some water.” In actuality, he knew that George’s scent was calming him. But they had agreed to not talk about weird scent things right now.

 

“Okay. I’m going to pick you up and get you on the bed, okay? Just relax, you know I’m strong enough. I’ll be gentle.” And then George was actually, seriously, lifting Mick up and after a moment, depositing him carefully on the bed. “Just relax, okay? I’m going to brush my teeth, but just stay right there for me, love. When I come back I’ll get you some water.”

 

Mick let George leave without a fight, mostly because he had no energy to try and hold on to him. As soon as George walked into the bathroom the dizziness came back. Mick closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply in and out through his nose. 

 

Soon enough, George was sitting back on the bed, and Mick half fell forward, shoving his face directly onto George’s lap and-

 

Woah.

 

“Take your pants off.” Mick whined, trying to push his face in deeper, the dizziness slowly disappearing. “Please.”

 

“Mick, I’m not sure if we should-” Mick forced George’s legs apart, and proceeded to curl up between his thighs. “Mick, I don’t think we should do this now.”

 

“I don’t wanna fuck you,” Mick slurred, feeling a bit woozy from the intensity of George’s scent. He wasn’t positive he was even speaking in English. “I mean I do, but not now. You smell so good. It’s… wow .”

 

“Okay, why don’t we go up here?” George slowly guided Mick to his neck. “Is this okay?”

 

Mick took a deep breath in and yes that was so much better. His head already felt clearer, and he felt far less fatigued than before.

 

“Better?”

 

Mick nodded sluggishly. “Yeah.”

 

“Good. Just stay there for a minute, I’m going to open your water bottle.” George’s scent was still slightly bitter. He was probably worried. 

 

It took Mick a few more inhales to realize that George was worried about him. 

 

“I’m okay, Georgie,” Mick said, leaning away from George’s neck to look up at him. 

 

George did not seem convinced. 

 

“I walked in and you were about to face plant into the counter.” 

 

Oh.

 

Well…

 

“My head just hurts,” Mick mumbled. “Once it goes away I’ll be fine.”

 

“Okay, well, let’s start with some water.” George held the bottle up to Mick’s lips. 

 

Mick could have definitely held the bottle himself, thank you very much , but if an attractive man was willing to do it for him, who was he to complain? 

 

He took a few swallows before leaning back against George’s chest. 

 

“You should try to drink some more,” George said. “Sorry, you’re probably dehydrated. I should have had you drink some water before we went to bed last night.”

 

“This isn’t your fault,” Mick said. “You’re actually helping so just, hush. Stop worrying.” 

 

George did not stop worrying. The bitterness actually got slightly worse. 

 

“You should probably eat something,” George said. “Do you think you could eat something?”

 

Food would probably help. And it would allow him to take more paracetamol, which would definitely help.

 

Problem was, food sounded like a particularly bad idea. 

 

“Um,” Mick considered. “Maybe if it was the rest of whatever broth Lewis brought me last night?”

 

“Okay,” George said. “I can get that for you, just, wait here.”

 

Carefully, George detached himself from Mick, leaning him back against the pillows. Mick couldn’t help the whine that escaped his lips as the room started to spin again. 

 

“I’ll be right there, love,” George called. “Just give me a minute.” 

 

Mick inhaled deeply. He could smell the two of them, how their scents intermingled like a British tea shop, but it wasn’t quite enough to take the edge off of the sudden nausea. He needed George for that. 

 

True to his word, the bed dipped a minute later as George got back on it. 

 

“I need…” Mick mumbled as he leaned against George’s chest again, inhaling deeply. 

 

Ah. There it was. 

 

His head started to clear again. 

 

Weird. 

 

“Mick, are you alright?” Even George’s voice sounded concerned now. 

 

Mick nodded. “I’m okay.”

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

Mick considered. George would probably appreciate the truth. 

 

“Every time I can smell you my headache goes away. And when you leave I get really dizzy and awful feeling.” 

 

“Oh. Oh.”

 

Mick hummed. 

 

“Mick I am so sorry , I-“

 

“For what?” Mick opened his eyes. George sounded dangerously close to tears.

 

“When I left you and it got worse and….” George sniffled. The air was bitter.

 

“Hey,” Mick said firmly. “You didn’t know that that was going to happen and neither did I. It’s okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You can make it up to me by feeding me soup?” Mick gave George his best puppy eyes. 

 

“I think I can live with that,” George laughed. “Though we should probably figure out why you were feeling that way later.”

 

“Yeah,” Mick said. “ Later . Right now I just want you and broth and maybe some paracetamol.”

 

“Okay, okay, yeesh! ” 

 

George brought the container of broth up to Mick’s lips. Mick tried to ignore how nice his hands looked wrapped around the container. 

 

“I warmed it up, so be careful.” 

 

Mick took a slow sip. He had absolutely no idea what Lewis had gotten him, but it did taste good. 

 

George waited until he leaned back to speak again. “Is that why you were crying yesterday?” 

 

“Huh?” Mick had cried a lot yesterday. So he wasn’t sure if George was referring to a specific time or in general. 

 

“When I had to get up to get the food from Lewis,” George lowered the container. “Is that why you started crying? Cause you weren’t near me?” 

 

Mick tried to remember what the hell George was talking about. Most of the day before was a little bit fuzzy. He knew that Lewis had come by the room at one point, but he had definitely been asleep for that, until he wasn’t and-

 

“Oh,” Mick laughed. “No. I started fake crying cause I woke up as Lewis was talking about the Ferrari Only Has Omega Drivers conspiracy theory and I didn’t want to hear that so I did the first thing I could think of to get the conversation to end and that was fake crying.” 

 

“It was fake?” George was almost annoyed. 

 

“No. Well. Yes? It started out fake.” Mick paused, suddenly very interested in his own hands. “But then I started fake crying and realized I was actually still an emotional mess from the panic attack so then it turned into real crying pretty quickly.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

George wrapped his arm a little tighter around Mick. 

 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better now.” 

 

Mick inhaled deeply. Earl Gray with honey and lemon filled his nostrils. “Thank you. Can I have some more broth?” It was actually taking the edge off of his headache.

 

George raised the container up to his lips again. “What I don’t get though is why you didn’t want to hear about the Ferrari conspiracy. Everyone knows it’s fake because there’s no way that Sch-”

 

Mick nearly spit his broth on George. But he didn’t. He swallowed like a dignified person. “I do not want to hear it.” 

 

“But-” 

 

“But nothing , Georgie.” Mick crossed his arms. “Lalalala I can’t hear you.” 

 

“Wait, does that mean-” 

 

“ Lalalala I can’t hear you! ” Mick yelled. 

 

George’s eyes suddenly widened. “Mick, was your-”

 

“ I don’t speak English !” Mick yelled, this time in German. He slapped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out whatever George was saying. “ I don’t know any English at all!”

 

And then George stopped speaking. Mick tentatively pulled his hands away from his ears. 

 

“You know,” George started, looking very pale. “I don’t think I actually know your birthday.”

 

Oh God no. 

 

“You have Google and can count, yes?” 

 

George nodded. 

 

“Go on then. Start counting.” Mick groaned. “And never bring this up again.”

 

George grabbed his phone and began typing frantically. He stared up at Mick. “Oh my God.”

 

“Do the math?”

 

“No- no, Mick. I missed your birthday?”

 

Oh. That. 

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“We went to the park on-” George’s face fell. “Oh.”

 

“That’s okay, Georgie. I honestly forgot.”

 

“But Mick, I skipped your birthday. I’m a horrible boyfriend. Oh my God. I’m so so sorry-” George’s scent began to sour again. He looked like he was going to cry. Mick could not let that happen. “Mick, love, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Your birthday is in February, right?”

 

George nodded mutely. 

 

“Well, then I missed it too. So we’re even.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I missed your birthday, you missed mine. We’re even.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yep.” 

 

“Positive?”

 

“George. I am going to kiss you now. So you shut up. Got it?”

 

George smiled. “Got it.”

 

Mick cupped George’s chin, and very carefully pulled him into a kiss. 

 

“So-” George grinned as he pulled away. “What’s this about me counting?”

 

Jesus fucking Christ.

 

“Go ahead.” Mick moved himself so he could lay his head on George’s lap. “Then I don’t want to hear anymore about this, okay?”

 

 And then George started counting on his fingers, and started typing faster on his phone, and then-

 

“Mick, please for the love of God tell me-”

 

“Nope!” Mick pulled the covers over his head. “Not talking about it!”

 

“Mick.”

 

“What.”

 

“Is that why he was going to kill David Coulthard?”

 

Mick wanted to kill George. He settled for just biting him instead, just above the knee but deliberately not on his scent gland. 

 

“Blimey, Mick-!”

 

“You deserve it.”

 

“So, are all the theories that you’re a mysterious love child of your dad and Mika…?”

 

That was probably the worst question he could have possibly asked, because honest to God, Mick had no idea. 

 

He shook his head. “I’m not talking about this.”

 

George paused. “Sorry, this was a bit insensitive of me, wasn’t it?”

 

“A bit. But I’ll answer your question anyway because I love you and you’re cute.” Mick licked his lips. How on Earth was he supposed to describe the situation? Ah! He had an idea. “Have you ever seen Mamma Mia?”

 

“No?”

 

“Look up the premise. That’s my answer.”

 

After a minute of hearing George typing, he heard a sigh then an: 

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I-”

 

“Shut it.”

 

“Okay.” George took a breath. “So you don’t know-”

 

“George Russell, I will walk out of this room now and tell Lewis you’re purposely stressing me out.”

 

“No- no don’t do that. I promise I’ll stop talking, I’m so sorry I’ll do anything to make you forgive me and I-”

 

“Anything?”

 

“Yes. Anything.”

 

Mick grinned. “Take your pants off? And shirt?”

 

“Why?”

 

“You said anything!”

 

“My word, you’re insistent. But fine. You will have to move.”

 

“No.”

 

“Mick.”

 

“Find a way.”

 

By some miracle, George found a way, and soon enough, Mick was able to rest his head on George’s bare chest and able to stare as much as he wanted.

 

Which was a lot.

 

George was really pretty.

 

“So, Georgie.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You said anything, yeah?”

 

“Mick, I’ve already taken my shirt and pants off, what do you want next?”

 

Mick grinned and batted his eyes up at George. “You can lose the underwear too?”

 

“No.” 

 

“Why?” Mick pouted. “Do you not want me to suck your-”

 

“Not until I’m confident you won’t pass out.”

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“We aren’t doing anything until you eat something with substance. And that broth doesn’t count.”

 

“Lewis probably pumped it filled with vitamins. It’s probably fine. Besides, you haven’t eaten anything.”

 

George’s face paled slightly. “I don’t eat when I’m stressed.”

 

“You don’t eat-?”

 

“I can’t eat. I misspoke.”

 

“Don’t lie to me.”

 

“I’m not, I swear, it’s just really stressful with everything and my DNF, and I just don’t feel hungry at all. I swear.”

 

That was fair.

 

But George’s scent was rapidly souring. 

 

Mick frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

 

“I don’t know what to tell you. I just am not hungry. I’m sorry but I just can’t eat that much right now.”

 

“When will you be able to?”

 

“I don’t know, maybe when this whole Lewis and Nico disaster stops?”

 

Hm.

 

“Fine.” Mick decided to let this one go. He’d see in time if George was lying or not, and if his scent was just souring because he felt bad for worrying Mick or something else. “But I’ll be paying attention.”

 

George nodded. “I know.”

 

He didn’t exactly sound enthused about that. 

 

Mick yawned, taking himself by surprise. He hadn’t realized he was tired. Maybe he just needed to sleep his headache off. “Can I have some paracetamol?” 

 

“Only if you have more broth.” 

 

Mick supposed that was fair. 

 

He swallowed the pill George gave him with a sip of broth and yawned again.

 

“Why don’t you come up and scent me again?” George suggested. “Will that help?”

 

Mick followed his suggestion and scooted himself on top of George, and plopped his face directly on George’s scent gland. It was really nice.

 

It was so nice, in fact, that he found himself drifting off almost immediately.

 

And apparently being in such close proximity to George’s bare, well, nearly everything, had an affect on his subconscious because his dreams were definitely not PG. 

 

He woke up half hard with his hand on George’s nipple. 

 

His headache was definitely gone. 

 

“Sleep well?” George’s chest vibrated as he spoke. 

 

“Shut up,” Mick muttered. “It’s not my fault you’re wearing only stupidly thin underwear.”

 

“Yes, it is actually,” George said. His fingers skimmed over Mick’s shoulder, making him shiver. “You asked me to take off my shirt and pants and then fell asleep on me for almost an hour.” 

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“Yes, so now can I ask about how you’re a podium baby-”

 

“No.” Mick laughed, and moved his arm up from George’s chest to George’s neck to pantomime choking him.

 

He didn’t get that far, because the moment his hand brushed over George’s neck, he moaned. Loudly.

 

Mick’s jaw dropped.

 

“Did you like that?”

 

“Shut up, Mick.”

 

“No, I don’t think I want to.” Mick carefully brushed his fingers along George’s neck up to his cheek, relishing in the way that George trembled from his touch. His thumb brushed over George’s lips. George shakily exhaled, his eyes wide and glassy and his lips parted ever so slightly.

 

“Your hands are so big,” George gasped. “Can- can I?”

 

Mick wasn’t sure what George wanted until suddenly his hand was flat against George’s.

 

“Your hands are so big,” George repeated, staring at their interlocked hands. “Oh my God .”

 

“So you like my hands, huh?” Mick smiled again, setting himself between George’s legs. He let go of George’s hand, and brought his thumb to the front of George’s lips. “Well?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Mick stared down at him. Surely, George knew exactly what he was doing, right?

 

“Mick, I don’t understand what-”

 

Good God.

 

“Suck.” Mick directed, trying not to roll his eyes. “Since you like my hands so much.”

 

As it turned out, George followed orders diligently, even if he was a bit shit at understanding them sometimes. But that was okay, because Mick was definitely not great at giving them, especially once George actually fucking started sucking on his fingers and moaning.

 

Mick felt a bit like he was going to be faint, if he was being honest. Whether it was because George was, once again, sucking on his fucking fingers and moaning or because George’s smell was so goddamn strong and honey saturated, Mick didn’t know, all he knew was he needed it more. 

 

Mick gently pulled his fingers out of George’s mouth. They were soaking wet. Mick was not quite sure what to do now, so he decided to choose the easy route.

 

The easy route was, obviously, to put his now-wet hand on George’s fucking tiny waist and kiss him hard.

 

Obviously.

 

That was another thing, because Mick wasn’t a virgin and this was definitely not George’s first time (and nor did he want it to be, because Mick wouldn’t have known what to do with himself if George was new at this and didn’t take his fingers as well as he did), and yet somehow Mick still felt about one hair trigger away from cumming. It would’ve been far more embarrassing if George wasn’t very obviously feeling the same way. 

 

Also, it was a bit hard to feel embarrassed when he had all 185 centimeters of George below him, moaning and flushed as he practically licked inside his mouth.

 

It probably should have been disgusting.

 

Hell, it probably was disgusting. 

 

But again, it was really hard to care about that when Mick was sliding his hand down to George’s dick and all George did in response was sound a bit pathetic (which was really hot) and kiss him (which was also really nice). And George had a really nice dick. Which also helped.

 

“ God , Mick-” George gasped, staring down at him. “Your hands are so-”

 

Mick carefully brushed his thumb over the tip of George’s dick. George stopped talking immediately.

 

“I love you, Georgie.” Mick panted, as he began to actually properly touch George in a way that hopefully wouldn’t make George decide to tease Mick as a form of revenge for making him wait so long. “Is this good?”

 

Mick knew it was good. He just wanted to hear George say it.

 

“Yes- fuck - oh my god, this is so good Mick. You’re so good.”

 

Ah .

 

Maybe encouraging George to praise him was a bit of a dangerous game.

 

“Are you-” Mick started, before George pulled on his fucking hair , causing him to moan louder than he had previously thought he was capable of and then-

 

“Fuck.” George gasped. “Fuck, Mick, don’t stop-”

 

Mick didn’t stop. Instead, he stared up at George’s face as he came, taking in how fucking gorgeous he was and how fucking good he smelled. 

 

Once George finished, Mick dropped his head down to George’s thighs, where his scent was the strongest and just inhaled. He felt a little deranged, and a little disgusting, and a bit weird about it, but given that George was playing with his hair, he was sure George didn’t mind too much.

 

They sat in silence for a few minutes while George caught his breath before he spoke again.

 

“Enjoying yourself?” George grinned sleepily looking down at him. 

 

“Huh?”

 

Oh.

 

He was grinding on George’s leg. It was a bit difficult to stop, but somehow he managed it. “Sorry.”

 

“I didn’t say you needed to stop.” George brushed his hands through Mick’s hair again. “I think it's hot.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Now, why don’t you scoot on up here and kiss me?”

 

Mick was more than happy to comply. The kisses were sloppy, both of them high off of eachother, but it was still positively mind melting. 

 

“Mick, love, do you want me to return the favor?”

 

“ Please .” 

 

“Can I…Do you…” George took a breath. “Can I move you?”

 

Huh.

 

What on Earth was George talking about?

 

“Sure?” Mick agreed, tentatively. “Whatever you want?”

 

And then suddenly Mick found himself on his back, George straddling his waist, and his arms pinned over his head. 

 

“Is this okay?”

 

Mick nodded. Enthusiastically.

 

“Words?”

 

“ Please .” Mick asked.

 

He hadn’t been kidding when he had told George he was willing to beg. 

 

George smirked, looking smug. It was a good look on him. “You smell really good, Mick.”

 

“Thank you?”

 

“Very sweet, like, lemonade. But sweeter. And I-”

 

“Jesus, Georgie, just fucking touch me and stop yapping- Ah-”

 

George’s mouth was on his nipple.

 

George’s mouth was on his nipple and he was fucking biting and sucking on it- a bit like he was giving him a hickey- and he was fucking moaning. Mick had never had anyone do this to him before, though he had never actually expected this to be something he enjoyed. But why wouldn’t he? George’s mouth was hot, and George was letting out small, breathy sighs, and it was all almost enough to make up for the lack of friction on his dick.

 

But it was probably a blessing that George had decided not to touch him yet, or he definitely would have instantly cum and it would have been totally embarrassing.

 

George pulled away, his lips red and a bit puffy. “Was that good?”

 

Mick was seriously going to kill him if he didn’t get his hands on his dick now. “Georgie-”

 

“I know, I know love. But I don’t want you to get too excited.” George winked. Well. He blinked. But it was kind of cute, and still kind of hot, so Mick didn’t really care. 

 

George kissed Mick slowly, his slender fingers tracing along the curves of his chest (and seriously, Mick was glad he worked out if this was what he got out of it), and making their way down to his waist.

 

“You’re so beautiful, Mick.” George mumbled. “Can I blow you?”

 

“Please. Please , Georgie.”

 

“I will, I will. Just calm down, okay? And be a good boy and don’t choke me.”

 

Be a good boy?

 

Mick nodded frantically. “I’m a good boy-” he whined, unsure where all of this was coming from. But all he knew is he needed George to know that he would be good for him. “I can be your good boy, please-?”

 

“You already are, love. You’re a very good boy.” 

 

George’s lips trailed down his chest to his hips as he left small kisses all over Mick’s body. George’s grip tightened on his hip bones, and finally George’s mouth was on his dick.

 

Mick moaned loudly, not caring if anyone could hear him. It was difficult not to thrust forward into George’s mouth, but if that was one of the rules, he knew he needed to follow it. Especially since he needed to be good for George. Mick tangled his fingers in George’s hair, wishing it was slightly longer so he could have been able to pull it easier. But George was going to grow out his hair, so maybe soon he’d be able to do that, and maybe he’d be able to-

 

George made a horrible choking sound. 

 

It snapped him out of his thoughts immediately.

 

“Georgie, are you okay?” 

 

“I’m okay. But I thought you told me you were a good boy.”

 

Oh .

 

Mick had forgotten his rule. “I’m so sorry, Georgie, I’ll-”

 

Mick’s head fell back as he felt George’s tongue over his scent glands on his thighs. 

 

It was- 

 

It felt-

 

He couldn’t even think anymore, and as soon as George’s hand was back on his dick, he knew it was over.

 

He very sincerely hoped that the walls were thick because if they weren’t, everyone on their floor would have heard Mick practically wailing George’s name. 

 

“ Jesus , Mick.” George giggled. “A bit loud, are we?” 

 

“ Be quiet.” Mick mumbled. “ You’re very good. ”

 

“Oh love, did I knock the English right out of you?”  

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

 

“You know, for someone who gives off the air of being so sweet and innocent, you really are awfully mouthy.”

 

Mick stuck his tongue out. “Beep off.”

 

“Beep you too. How on Earth do you convince people you’re such an angel?” George’s tone sounded serious, but when Mick looked down at him he could see just how red George’s face was getting. 

 

Interesting.

 

But that didn’t answer George’s question.

 

“I have a very good PR team!” Mick replied, “And I do try my best to be good to people, and I don’t want to be seen as some rich entitled brat or something, and I don’t know… I just don’t want to be mean to people.”

 

“I know that, Mick. You are really one of the kindest people I’ve met in this sport, and trust me, I’ve met a lot of people. I was just making a joke.”

 

Oh. Maybe Mick had been taking his question a bit too seriously. Whoops. In his defense, the air still smelled like their combined scents and he was getting tired.

 

“Ah. Well, I’m a bit, ah, what is it? Muddy? Right now?”

 

“Muddy?”

 

Mick thought as hard as he could, but he just couldn’t find it. “I don’t- I don’t know. Like it is foggy? But not foggy, it’s muddy, it’s-”

 

“Muddled?”

 

Mick lazily snapped his fingers. “That.” 

 

“Do you want to take another nap, angel?”

 

Oh.

 

Oh .

 

Mick let himself sink down into the pile of pillows behind himself just a bit further. Angel . Wow.

 

No one had ever called him anything like that.

 

Baby? Yes.

 

Handsome? Yep.

 

Babe? Overdone. 

 

Bro? Well, that was what he got for fucking Esteban.

 

But angel?

 

Mick was pretty sure he was melting into a puddle of goo, and now his very cute, very high-strung boyfriend was rambling at him again.

 

“Was the nickname bad? Should I have asked first? I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I just thought it would be-”

 

“Georgie.” 

 

“Huh?”

 

“Ang-” Mick heard George snicker. “ That is fine.” Mick paused, and for good measure: “Sweetheart.”

 

George turned a truly lovely shade of pink, and his scent (which was slowly coming down from it’s honey-ish smell back into its normal Earl Gray), began to sweeten once more. “You didn’t answer my question though.”

 

Mick yawned. He was getting pretty tired, and he really did kind of want to just sleep on George’s lap for just a bit longer.

 

“Should I take that as a yes?”

 

Mick nodded and grabbed hold of one of George’s hands, bringing his wrist closer to his face. 

 

“Love, you’re going to get cum on your face if you do that.”

 

Mick shrugged. He’d done worse.

 

“Actually, now that I think about it, I’m gonna go and get us some-” George yawned. “I’m gonna get us some towels to clean up. Okay?”

 

“Boo.”

 

“Are you going to be alright here?” 

 

Mick blinked his eyes open. George’s hair was fluffing out around his head, glowing in the dim hotel lighting as he stared down at Mick with soft concern. 

 

“I’ll be okay,” Mick closed his eyes again. “Just hurry back.”

 

George did. 

 

One second Mick was experiencing peace and the next there was a wet towel on him. 

 

Mick whined and tried to roll away from George. “This isn’t very sweetheartly of you,” he groaned into the blankets. 

 

“Just hold still,” George laughed. “The more you move the longer it will take.” 

 

“I better get cuddles for this.”

 

“I think that could be arranged.”

 

Mick tried not to sigh in relief when the towel finally disappeared and he could finally sink back into George’s arms. 

 

George was whispering something to him, but all Mick could smell was Earl Gray and comfort and warmth. His eyes grew heavy as sleep pulled him under. 

 

He woke to someone knocking at the door. 

 

“Mmmm… Georgie?” Mick tried to bury his head further into George’s chest. His stupid headache was making itself known again. 

 

George sighed in his sleep and continued snoring lightly. 

 

The knocking continued. 

 

Mick had two options. 

 

1. Ignore the knocking and let it make his headache worse.
2. Get up and see who was at the door, only briefly making his headache worse by separating himself from George. 

 

Waking George was not an option. He had been taking care of Mick for a long time and was probably exhausted. 

 

The knocking seemed to grow more anxious. 

 

Mick threw his hand over his eyes and tried not to groan. He drove race cars. He had dealt with both Gunther Steiner and Nikita Mazepin at the same time. He could handle getting out of bed and walking across the room to see who was at the door. Maybe it was Esteban. Mick vaguely remembered telling him that they could grab food after the race, he might have been worried when he hadn’t shown up. Or responded to a single text message since.

 

So, with one last sniff to George’s neck he carefully extracted himself from George’s arms and crawled out of bed. 

 

His knees nearly buckled as his feet hit the floor and he steadied himself with his hands on the bed. 

 

Evidently, George was very, very good at making him orgasm. 

 

Mick struggled up to standing, taking a second to get his bearings. The pounding in his head was definitely more pronounced now that he wasn’t in George’s arms. The knocking wasn’t helping.

 

He grabbed George’s awful zip up sweatshirt from the chair near the bed and pulled it on. He knew better than to waste time trying to zip it up so he just wrapped his arms around himself like he was a mom in a weird romcom wearing a robe and half limped, half stumbled to the door. 

 

He really hoped Toto wasn’t on the other side. Because he was in his underwear. 

 

“Oh good, I was starting to get worried something had- Mick?” 

 

It was not Toto. It wasn’t even Esteban. 

 

“Mick, I’m so sorry. You didn’t need to get up.”

 

It was Lewis. He was wearing a sweater in a shade of beige so terrible it could only belong to Nico and he smelled like nothing.

 

Mick shrugged. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t really. He was definitely leaning heavily against the wall and squinting in the hallway light. Hopefully this would be quick. 

 

“Where’s George? Did he leave you?”

 

Mick shook his head and then regretted it instantly when the room started spinning slightly. “He’s sleeping. Didn’t want to wake him.”

 

Lewis nodded. “Makes sense that he would be stressed with everything. I know I’ve been.”

 

Mick shrugged again. It was just a panic attack, he really didn’t know why Lewis was this worried. 

 

“How have you been feeling?” 

 

“Okay,” Mick said. “Tired mostly, been sleeping a lot. Keep getting a headache. Nauseous.” He looked down at himself, suddenly very self aware that he was standing in front of Lewis Hamilton in a pair of boxers. “Sorry about the lack of pants. I couldn’t get any on.” 

 

He would not have revealed that much had he still been in his right state of mind. 

 

Lewis’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s okay, It probably wouldn’t feel good on your stomach anyway. Have you been able to eat anything?”

 

Mick tried to remember why the hell Lewis was so concerned about him. He was coming up empty though. “Yeah I ate the broth you brought me, it was good. Didn’t make me nauseous.”

 

Lewis at least seemed happy about that. “Good! I brought you some more, you should try to eat it. If you’re feeling up to it. It’ll help.” 

 

He reached a bag that Mick had not noticed he was holding out to Mick. 

 

Mick eyed it. He didn’t want to drop broth on the floor in front of Lewis. “Can you just put it down? George will come and deal with it later.”

 

The concern was back on Lewis’s face. “Can I step in or should I just leave it right inside the door?” 

 

Mick sniffed the air. Lewis didn’t really smell like anything right now. But he didn’t want to disturb the Earl Gray and lemon paradise that was his hotel room. “Just put it down on the floor.” Mick pointed vaguely towards the floor by the door. 

 

“Are you sure? I can drop it off inside if you-”

 

“No.” Mick snapped. He already had Lewis getting in his business, he didn’t need him to get into his room and disturb his newfound safe space too. “No, I said you can’t. Drop it at there or leave.”

 

It was a bit more forceful than Mick had intended it to be, but seriously it was getting hard to stand.

 

Lewis’ eyes widened. “Okay. I won’t hurt you. I’m just putting it down now, see?”

 

He shrunk away from Lewis as he leaned into the room and carefully set the food down. He stuck his nose into George’s zip up, and inhaled. He really needed to get back into bed before he did something embarrassing like fall over.

 

“Compared to the other ones you’ve had, is this one better or…?” 

 

“Worse,” Mick shut his eyes as his head stabbed particularly painfully. “Much worse. But at least I have had George, he’s making it bearable.”

 

Mick really just wanted to excuse himself and go back to bed. Lewis had dropped off the food, surely he didn’t need to be breathing down Mick’s neck anymore. 

 

He was about to open his mouth to say so when Lewis said something even worse. 

 

“And how’s the bleeding been?”

 

Why would there be bleeding in a….

 

Oh fuck. 

 

Lewis was not talking about the panic attack at all. He was talking about the miscarriage. The one he and Nico presently thought he was having. How had he managed to forget that?

 

And his answers from earlier…he had made it so much worse.

 

He might actually be sick. 

 

“Um, uh…” he stuttered. “It’s been fine. Almost…almost done? Maybe?”

 

He had no idea how far along they thought he had been. Or how long miscarriages we’re supposed to take. He really just needed to curl up in George’s arms again. 

 

Thankfully his answer seemed reasonable because Lewis was nodding. “Pain is all manageable and everything?” 

 

Mick nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak without digging himself in a further hole. 

 

Another stab of pain rippled through his head. His eyesight was beginning to get fuzzy. He leaned a little more against the door. 

 

“I’m glad I can smell the both of you this time,” Lewis said. “Though can I ask why you haven’t made a nest?”

 

Mick quite simply did not have the brain power for this. “I didn’t want to?”

 

“You didn’t want to.” Lewis said it in the same tone he would talk about too much tire degradation. “Like, no urges or anything?”

 

“I just want George.”

 

“That’s. Hm.” Lewis looked like he wanted to say more. Mick wished he wouldn’t. “That’s a little concerning. You should bring that up with your doctor, I assume you’ve seen one? And I just want to remind you that there is no rush to fly out, we would rather you be safe,” Lewis continued to ramble. “And-“

 

“Can I go to George?” 

 

Lewis blinked at him. 

 

“I need to go lay down,” Mick said. He didn’t care how bad this made everything look. If he had to stand for another second with a pounding headache, post magical orgasm, without George, talking about his fictitious miscarriage with seven time world champion Sir Lewis Hamilton he was going to fall over. Literally.

 

“Yes,” Lewis snapped out of it. “Yes, oh my god, of course. I’m so sorry for making you stand for so long. Do you need help getting back to the bed?”

 

“No. Don’t touch me.” The idea of Lewis touching him right now was enough to make him want to scream. He needed George. “I’ll be okay. Thank you for the food.”

 

“Okay. You’re welcome. God, I’m so sorry, I’ll wait here until you get into bed, okay? Then I’ll shut the door.” 

 

Mick did not have any more argument left. If that would make Lewis feel better than so be it. 

 

He turned away from the door and started to half limp, half stumble back to the bed. It was far less graceful than when he had gotten up. Maybe he should have just woken up George. He hoped Lewis wasn’t paying attention to how much he was leaning on the walls and the furniture for support. 

 

He ditched the hoodie and flopped unceremoniously back down on the bed. Almost immediately he was overcome by the strong sense of safety as George wrapped himself around him. His headache was already lessening. Still a few tears managed to escape his eyes as he mushed his nose into George’s neck and inhaled deeply.

 

George pressed a light, sleepy kiss to his head. 

 

Before Mick dozed off, he heard a muffled sob, followed by the hotel room door shutting.

Notes:

so. lot happened in this chapter. we got the i love yous... we got the making things so so much worse, and we got the porn! leave a comment and let me know how u feel. im sure ur all feeling Strongly. (also side note: i dont write a lot of porn. was it good? did it really grease the machine? lemme know.)

anyway, usual apology for mr schumacher sorry for what ive done to you.

please do the math that george did. i was just as horrified to find it wouldve actually worked.

anyway! ttyl love yall thanks for reading and commenting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! next chapter is a doooooozy

Chapter 11: biblically accurate george russell (hes not a well adjusted member of society)

Summary:

um. seriously look what i added to the tags. this is your warning. sorry in advance. this is a long one tho!!! and dont forget the explicit tag ;)

Notes:

if eating disorders/weird things with eating bother you: i have *** around the sections that discuss it in detail. end tags will provide a summary that will hopefully be less triggering o7

also please note that there is more discussion of miscarriages in this chapter. this will not continue for the full work, just so you know, its probably going to be this ch, and two ch after that where it is mentioned, if you're getting tired of the #misunderstandings. somehow that is NOT the climax of the fic. but this was also not supposed to be so long rn, so who even knows!

George woke up at five in the morning to a mouthful of blonde hair, a rather confusing bag of food on the floor, and about fifty-six missed messages and calls from both Lewis and Nico. The blonde hair was almost expected, the bag of food was baffling (though could probably be easily explained), and the Nico and Lewis texts were getting concerningly normal. 

 

Once George had savored every text from Lewis. He was his icon! He was his favorite racer, and George would be lying if he said he hadn’t spent years of his life looking up to everything Lewis did. 

 

And now he dreaded every conversation with him, all because of this stupid, stupid situation he had gotten himself into. The guilt hurt. It was awful to lie about such a situation, but telling them the truth would be far far worse. 

 

Because honestly?

 

Lewis was right about one thing in the first conversation they had had about the subject: George didn’t want people to know his designation. The only people who he wanted to know were people who needed to know. That included Mick (obviously), his family, Lando, Charles, and Alex, plus his health and safety team (which obviously included Toto). They were the only people that knew, and foolishly, George had hoped it would stay that way. 

 

It would be too easy to say that George hated being a Beta. There were definitely benefits to not having heats and ruts, and having a sense of smell that didn’t give away every emotion, and he didn’t have to deal with the weird sexual stuff (and fucking pregnancy), but that didn’t mean George was happy with it.

 

Because he wasn’t.

 

And it wasn’t those things where he wished he was an Alpha or an Omega, because he didn’t. He didn’t even find Mick’s body weird or uncomfortable, because it was Mick. It was just him. And he hated it.

 

So no, telling Lewis and Nico that they were wrong wasn’t an option, because once they knew, everyone would know.

 

And George couldn’t have that. It was hard enough as it was with Lando, Charles and Alex knowing. But that couldn’t have been avoided.

 

Especially after the Alex thing.

 

Because then everyone would speculate and assume (just as Mick had), that they had been together and they would know how utterly pathetic and useless George was. Or worse, they would realize that even for a Beta, he was all wrong. 

 

It had taken him years to get to a place where he was- finally almost comfortable in his body, happy, not hungry all the time, and content- but now that period was over. So he wasn’t eating again, and everytime he thought too hard about his body he sort of wanted to cry, and everything he did felt like a performance of some sort. It wasn’t like that when he and Mick were alone, but everytime Nico and Lewis knocked on the door, it was a reminder of what he could never have because he was all wrong.

 

Mick would notice. He already had noticed, obviously, but he was going to notice more sooner rather than later, and once this whole Nico and Lewis thing was over, he’d know that George wasn’t doing well and then he’d leave and George would be back where he started.

 

Mick shifted against him. George kissed his forehead. Mick squirmed a little in his arms at that, and crammed his face into George’s neck. It was adorable.

 

George grabbed his phone off the nightstand, carefully trying not to wake Mick. It was far too early and Mick definitely needed more sleep. He brushed his hand through Mick’s hair. He was getting concerned, if he was being honest. While George had had panic attacks before- small moments of terror before and after racing events of any kind and little things like that- he had never had something like Mick’s happen. And he’d certainly never been knocked out for several days after the event. That wasn’t to say George didn’t struggle with mental health things. 

 

Everyone knew George struggled with that.

 

But that wasn’t this and Mick did seem to be on the mend so this was all he could really hope for. He wondered if Mick had done anything, or taken anything that would have made it worse, but nothing seemed to come to mind. He’d ask him when he woke up.

 

It would probably be easier for Mick if Lewis and Nico didn’t keep butting in, though.

 

George opened up his and Lewis’ texts.

 

There were a lot of them. 

 

Most were apologizing for rousing Mick, and making him stand, and not asking how George was doing, and checking in, and all the now normal sorts of invasive questions George was horrified to realize he was getting used to. He was way too tired for this, and he needed some sort of semi-logical support, so there was only one person he could turn to.

 

Charles

 

👋👋

what happened this time

 

Can’t a guy just text a pal without a crisis

 

well considering ik ur still in australia and its like 5 there idk what u want me to think lol

 

Christ

Well I am worried about Mick

 

and????

hold on

ur still w him?? 

😍😚😚😌🤯🥵🥵😳🤤🤤👉👌💦💦 ???

 

Right. Charles didn’t know yet.

 

Well, yes, sort of.

 

WHAT

 

We’re dating now !!!!!!!!!!! ☺️☺️☺️

 

😘😘🥰 

youre welcome

 

Jesus Christ.

Anyway, that’s not what this is about.

 

then???

 

I think there’s something wrong w him. After the race he had a really terrible panic attack. Like he got sick several times. He’s been nauseous and headachy since then. Everytime I leave him he gets dizzy and feels sicker. I don’t know what to do.

 

well mate

sometimes thats just how panic attacks are

 

Yeah but this feels irregular even for him

 

hm

well is he sick?

 

No he’s not fevery. But I tried to scent him the other day to see if we’re compatible (which i believe we are, btw), and it was way harder to smell him than in the garage.

 

well was he wearing blockers

 

Yeah? But he showered them off.

 

hm

hold on.

dumb question

 

Yeah?

 

was it his usual blockers

 

No, they were given to him by Nico Rosberg

 

george, mate, buddy

nico is an omega right

 

Yeah.

 

good god.

 

Yeah?????

 

you and your boytoy are dumb as bricks

 

He’s actually my boyfriend now, thanks

And if anything, I’m his boytoy

 

Had George been any more awake, he would not have said that to Charles who was never going to let him live it down. But George was a professional at digging himself into a bigger hole, so as usual, he made things worse.

 

Actually, I’m his princess 👑☺️😌

 

ayo what

 

Ignore that.

 

😏😏😏😏

 

Shut up. Why are Mick and I dumb as bricks

 

shouldnt take other designation specific blockers

 

Oh.

 

George suddenly remembered what Alex had told him in the bathroom- that taking Charles’ blockers would fuck him up- and then he realized.

 

Nico gave Mick the pregnancy specific ones. 

 

Jesus Christ.

 

hypothetically, if someone accidentally took pregnancy safe blockers for omegas. would that be bad

 

george what on earth

why was mick????

what sort of kinky shit were u up to?

 

It was an accident. But seriously, is that bad

 

u have google

 

charles i may cry if i go down a google rabbithole

please just tell me.

 

finnnnnnnnne

basically whats going on w mick seems to be what the symptoms are.

 

when will it go away

 

idk. when max accidentally used some of my blockers he felt awful for the rest of the day and the day after that. but he didnt use that much and you both probably are a bit weird. just give it a few days, make surw he doesnt wear blockers for like a week to get it out of his system and make sure he really washes down his scent glands

anyway u said ur scent compatible???????????

 

yeah ☺️

He smells really good ☺️☺️☺️

 

yayyyyyyyyyyyy 🥰🥰🥰🥰

 

I’m going to wake him up and tell him, thx for your help Charles

 

anytime 😋😘

 

Mick was peacefully snoring with his head tucked into George’s shoulder. He hated to wake him, but it would be for the best that he did so he could get Mick to clean himself off better.

 

“Mick?” George shook his shoulder. “Mick, love, we gotta get up.”

 

Mick grumbled and tried to hide under the blankets. He was unsuccessful. 

 

“Mick, love, c’mon I know what’s wrong with you.”

 

Mick sleepily blinked up at George. “Wha’ is goin’ on?”

 

“We gotta get you in the shower love. It was the blockers Nico gave that made you sick.”

 

Mick groaned. “It's too early. Let me sleep.”

 

“I promise you’ll feel better once you let me-”

 

“Sleep. I’ll feel better when I sleep.”

 

“No, love, the blockers were bad for you. We need to get them off of you.”

 

“It’s fine, Georgie, I-”

 

“I’ll give you a sponge bath? You don’t need to take a full shower, but now that we know the problem we really should deal with it to see if it helps.”

 

Mick scowled. “Fine. But you’re doing all the work.”

 

And that’s how they got here, with Mick half-asleep and naked in the empty bathtub while George was carefully soaking a face cloth in warm water and soap in the sink. 

 

“I’ll be gentle, okay?”

 

“Mmph.” Mick put his hand over his eyes. “I wish I could sleep.”

 

“I know you aren’t happy about this, but it’ll make you feel better, okay? Now just let me know if you’re too uncomfortable and I’ll stop.” George squeezed out some of the water over the sink, and knelt down by the tub. “I’m going to start with your thighs first, okay? I think this’ll be the hardest one, and so we’ll do it first. I’m going to try my hardest not to touch you in any way because I know you’re sleepy, but if I do know it was an accident. Sound good?”

 

“No. But go ahead anyway.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“George. You pulled me out of bed at like six in the am, and I’m laying in a cold ass tub, you better at least get what you said you’d do done.”

 

“Ah. Okay. I’ll be quick. Just spread your legs a bit for me?”

 

Mick rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked.

 

“I’ll try to be gentle.” 

 

George gently brought the cloth to Mick’s thigh and carefully began cleaning it. 

 

“Georgie-” 

 

George pulled his hand away. “What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s- it’s uncomfortable. Can I-” Mick stared down at George’s wrist. “Please?”

 

Oh.

 

“Yeah. Do you want a towel or something? To cover you up a bit-”

 

“No, it’s not that. It’s the feel of the towel. Can I please-?”

 

Oh.

 

“Of course.” George extended his wrist out to Mick so he could scent him. “Better?”

 

Mick nodded. “Be fast.”

 

George began scrubbing again, trying to ignore Mick’s sounds of discomfort. Soon enough though, he had finished Mick’s thighs and Mick was beginning to really smell like lemons.

 

Huh. Maybe it hadn’t been George’s nose the other day when he could hardly smell Mick.

 

“I can smell you a lot stronger now, love.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Yeah. Feeling okay still?”

 

“It hurts.”

 

“It hurts? I can stop. I’m sorry, love.”

 

“No, no it’s okay, I just want it to be over.”

 

“I know. I’m trying to be fast. Where do you want me to move to next?”

 

“My wrists?”

 

George nodded. “Alright, let me wash this cloth off, and I’ll get right to it. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

George got up- ignored the wave of dizziness that came over him (maybe he did need to eat something and stop stashing the half-eaten containers of food in the trash)- and washed off the cloth in warm water.

 

“I’m going to wash off your wrists now. Do you want to scent me first?”

 

Mick shook his head. “Just do it.”

 

Cleaning off Mick’s wrists was quick and easy, and thankfully seemed to bother Mick just a bit less than washing his thighs did. Once he was done though, George did carefully guide Mick’s face to his neck so he could take a minute before he washed his neck.

 

It smelled far more like lemons than it did before. 

 

“Doing okay?” George murmured, brushing his hand through Mick’s hair. “I know it’s a lot.”

 

“I don’t like it, but I guess I do feel a bit better.”

 

“Good. Should I just finish the job?”

 

Mick sighed and tilted his head. “Go for it.”

 

Cleaning off Mick’s neck was a lot more difficult than his thighs or wrists. It was harder to reach, especially when Mick moved his head out of discomfort, and it didn’t help that George could see Mick beginning to tear up. But the lemon smell was just getting stronger and stronger, even though it was definitely more sour than George had hoped it would be. By the time George finished, the room smelt a bit like it had been just cleaned. At least it was done though, and George helped Mick back into his underwear, and carried him back to bed, where he immediately buried his face in George’s shoulder and fell back asleep.

 

George lay awake for awhile longer, kept up by guilt mixed with confusion, but eventually he also fell asleep next to Mick.

 

He woke to his stomach rumbling and his phone buzzing. 

 

It was Lewis. Apologizing yet again for something that George knew nothing about. And also asking when he and Nico could stop by to arrange the flight. 

 

George’s stomach rumbled again. He supposed that was a good sign. 

 

He almost entertained the idea of getting out of bed and eating some of the soup that Lewis had brought him the night before, but that would mean disturbing Mick. And also Mick should probably be awake to see him eat so that Mick knew nothing was wrong and George had not been lying when he said he couldn't eat when he was stressed. 

 

His stomach rumbled once again, but this time Mick twitched in his sleep before blinking open his eyes and staring at George.

 

“Hi.” George mumbled, unsure what to say. “How are you feeling?”

 

Mick blinked again. “You must need to eat.”

 

Oh.

 

“In a minute.”

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “Now.”

 

“That would require you getting off of me.” 

 

Mick groaned and jammed his face back into George’s neck. 

 

George’s phone buzzed again. Another apology from Lewis. They were all starting to sound the same. “Also why did Lewis send me about fifty separate apology texts?” 

 

“Fuck.”

 

Oh God. 

 

“What did you do, Mick?”

 

“I-” Mick started, voice muffled by George’s neck. “Can’t I wake up for a little bit before we discuss?”

 

George sighed. “Fine. But I better get a good explanation.”

 

“How good the explanation is depends on whether or not you let me blow you in the shower.” 

 

George was suddenly very awake. 

 

He took a deep breath so he didn't stutter like a bumbling idiot. “Are you really feeling that much better?”

 

Mick looked up at George. Sleep still coated his bright blue eyes, but he was smiling. “If I stay in this bed for even three more minutes I fear I may combust.” 

 

George nodded seriously, like he had just been told a race strategy or what his next upgrade package was. “Right then. Let’s not waste any time.” 

 

They didn’t.

 

Even though Mick spent a solid five minutes sputtering in the shower after inhaling his own shampoo, and George had to forcibly threaten Mick that he’d buy himself a chastity belt if Mick didn’t stop trying to suck him off while still choking on bubbles, it all happened rather quickly. George was happy enough with a handjob, and more than enjoyed sitting Mick on the side of the bathtub and letting him cum on his face.

 

He was glad Mick owned proper face wash though.

 

But, soon enough George was able to haul Mick out of the shower, wrap him up in a towel, and carry him back into bed so Mick could pull on a pair of sweatpants while he made coffee and also put on clothes.

 

The room smelled very strongly of lemons. It was absolutely lovely.

 

But, as time went on, George couldn’t help but notice the lemon smell souring just enough for him to notice.

 

“Are you okay, love?” George called from across the room. 

 

Mick didn’t respond for a moment. “Head hurts.”

 

Shit.

 

George grabbed the coffee and speedwalked to the bed. “Will having proper caffeine help?”

 

Mick shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I overdid it in the shower.”

 

Well.

 

No shit.

 

“Would scenting me help?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Can’t hurt to try, can it?” 

 

Mick nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. George came over and half crouched so that Mick could sniff his neck and also grab his hand. It was awkward. And it was definitely a thigh workout. 

 

“Now, angel,” George said after Mick’s scent had calmed back down a little. He tried not to grimace as his thighs burned. He was a professional athlete, he could handle an awkward crouch. “Can you please explain the Lewis apology texts before he breaks down the door or something?” 

 

Mick hid further against his chest. 

 

George’s thighs screamed. 

 

Enough was enough. 

 

He picked up Mick into his arms before sitting down on the bed like a proper person. He stretched his legs out on the bed and hoped that Mick didn’t notice. 

 

“Angel? C’mon it can’t be that bad.” 

 

Realistically, it could in fact be that bad. 

 

Mick muttered something in German. The lemon smell had soured even more.

 

George ran his fingers through his hair. “Whatever it is, I won’t be mad,” he cooed. “We’ll work through it together.” 

 

“I made it worse,” Mick said into his neck. 

 

“How?” George tried to stay calm so that his scent wasn’t disrupted. That would be bad, especially with Mick nose deep in his scent gland. 

 

“Well you were asleep and there was knocking and it was hurting me because my head hurt and-” he continued mumbling, his accent growing so thick that George really could not understand a word of what he was saying, save for maybe bleeding and implications . 

 

“Mick, love,” George interrupted. “I can’t understand you. Can you take your head out of my chest and try it again? Slower this time?” 

 

Mick breathed in shakily. Even without his scent, George could tell that he was working his way up to a panic attack, which was really the last thing that Mick needed right now. 

 

“Deep breath, angel. It’s alright.” 

 

Mick inhaled. 

 

“I won’t leave and I won’t be mad.” 

 

He exhaled and shifted his head so that he wasn't speaking into George’s neck. 

 

“You promise?” 

 

George kissed the top of his head. “I promise.” 

 

Mick started again. “You were asleep. And I knew you hadn’t slept a lot so I didn't want to wake you up, but there was knocking at the door and it was hurting my head. So I got up because I wanted the knocking to stop, thinking it would be like, Esteban, or someone coming to check on me.” 

 

George nodded. That made sense. 

 

“And it was Lewis.” 

 

Oh. 

 

“And my head really, really hurt. And the room smelled good obviously cause we had just….you know. And I wasn’t in bed with you so it made my head hurt more. So I was dizzy and wobbly and Lewis was there in an ugly sweater and he started asking me questions.” 

 

A pit started to form in George’s stomach. He started to subtly do some of the deep breathing techniques he had been taught to stay calm before a race to keep his scent smelling normal. 

 

“He asked me, like, I don’t remember. Oh, and I wasn’t wearing pants. Obviously, I was wearing underwear but I’m sorry. My balance was bad. But he started asking me questions and I wasn’t thinking cause I was in pain and thought he was talking about the panic attack. He asked me a bunch of stuff, I don’t really remember but he asked me if I had eaten and I said yes and he tried to give me more food but I obviously couldn’t hold it. So he put it on the floor. I think it’s still there?” 

 

So that explained the bag on the floor by the door. 

 

Mick’s voice had started to speed up again. George gave him another encouraging kiss to the top of his head. 

 

“And I think I was kind of rude about it? But I didn’t want him to disrupt the smell. And then he asked if this was better or worse than my other ones and I obviously still thought he was talking about panic attacks so I said it was much worse but that you were helping because obviously you are and-”

 

“I’m helping?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

A swell of gratification bloomed in George’s chest. It had been so hard, the last few days, watching Mick be in clear anguish and pain. He was glad that his presence had at least made it slightly bearable, especially when he wasn’t feeling too confident in himself. It was good to be appreciated. 

 

Mick traced a mindless pattern on George’s chest as he kept rambling. “But then he started asking me how the bleeding was and that was when I remembered that they think- that they- you know? And I’m so sorry Georgie. I didn’t mean to. But my head hurt and I was barely standing and you were all the way across the room and I thought I was going to be sick and he was asking me about pain and-”

 

“Hey,” George whispered, tilting Mick’s chin up so he could look at him properly. 

 

Mick’s blue eyes were awash with tears. 

 

“No crying,” George said, kissing his forehead. “I’m not mad. It’s not your fault you weren’t feeling well.” 

 

“But I made it worse and-”

“And nothing, love. They think you’re having a damned miscarriage. And they assumed that without asking. This was never going to go well.”

 

Mick sighed. “Yeah. You’re right.” 

 

George hated to ask, but- “Was there anything else?” 

 

Mick thought for a moment. “Something about nests? I think? He was worried about it? I don’t know. I was trying really hard not to pass out and I think I stumbled back to bed not too long after that.” 

 

Okay.

 

Well.

 

It probably could have gone better, but then again, George was just happy Mick didn’t faint and hit his head or something. He was a bit sad that Mick hadn’t woken him up, though.

 

“You’re mad.” Mick whispered.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I can smell you, George. You’re mad.”

 

Oh .

 

Fuck.

 

“No, angel. I’m just- well, blimey- I’m just a bit gutted that you didn’t wake me up. That’s all.”

 

“I wanted you to sleep.”

 

“Bloody Nora, Mick. I want to take care of you. If you think you’re gonna faint, then you oughta wake me up, okay?” George said, speaking quickly.

 

Mick blinked. 

 

“Well?”

 

“Um…” 

 

It was then that George noticed that Mick’s face had gone bright red. And he smelled a tad more like lemonade than furniture cleaner. 

 

“Mick?”

 

“Um. Okay. Yeah.”

 

“Are you okay, angel?”

 

“Yes, I’m fine. Yes.”

 

“You’re being weird. What’s going on?”

 

“I like it. That you want to take care of me.” 

 

George raised an eyebrow. He was almost certain that was too easy of an answer, but if Mick didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want to pry too much. “I do. I love you, remember?”

 

Mick scent sweetened once again. “I love you too, Georgie.”

 

George tried to ignore his face heating up. But it was hard to, especially when Mick was openly staring with adoration at him. He cleared his throat. “Well. Um. Anyway. Lewis mentioned the nest thing to me too. Also he wants to come over soon.”

 

“Ah.”

 

George opened and closed his mouth. He didn’t want to say it but. Well, he kind of had to.

 

“Should we make one?” 

 

“Make one what?” 

 

“Bloody hell, Mick. A nest.” 

 

“Oh.” A pause. The lemonade disappeared out of Mick’s scent. “Why?” 

 

“Well frankly I don’t want to get us deeper in shit with Lewis and Nico. They might drag you to some omega doctor or therapy or something and then we’ll all be right fucked.” 

 

“Georgie,” Mick sighed. “I don’t know how to make a nest.” 

 

“Then why don’t we ask someone who does?”

 

“I’m not asking Seb. He’d ask too many questions.”

 

“What about Esteban-”

 

“No. He’s with Pierre right now. He’s busy.”

 

Ah.

 

Busy?

 

Mick must have seen his confusion because he winked. Badly.

 

Oh.

 

Well, that excluded Mick’s friends. 

 

“I could ask Lance-?”

 

It definitely excluded Mick’s friends.

 

“No. Not a chance. Absolutely not.” George refused to bring Lance anywhere near this. “Also, isn’t he an Alpha?”

 

Mick shrugged. “Lance knows many things. Anyway, why don’t you ask, like, Lando?”

 

“Lando is an Alpha.”

 

“What?” 

 

George shrugged. “You didn’t know?”

 

“No?”

 

“He’s also in a complex foursome situation with Oscar, Carlos, and Logan.”

 

Mick’s jaw dropped. 

 

“I know. Anyway, who else do we know who can-”

 

“What about Charles?”

 

George had hoped Mick wouldn’t suggest him. Not because Charles didn’t know, but because Charles would want to know why . And George had no fucking clue how to explain why George needed to build a nest. “He’ll be nosy.”

 

“It won’t be that bad, I’m sure asking Seb would be worse, so-”

 

And then Mick was grabbing George’s phone and dialing Charles’ number.

 

“You better have a good reason for this, mate.” Charles greeted. “I have things to do in ten minutes.”

 

“Yes, yes I’m sure you’re going to have fun with Max, but mate, it’s important. How do you build a nest?”

 

Charles went silent, then began saying something in French.

 

“He said: what the fuck, and asking if we are having kinky sex.” Mick translated, looking very tired. And then Mick started quickly speaking in (what George assumed was) rapid French, and after a moment, Charles was connecting to Facetime.

 

Charles was still speaking in French. 

 

“Mate, can we do English please? My day has already been long enough without having to pretend to know French,” George groaned. 

 

“Isn’t it like barely ten there?” Charles asked, blessedly in English. 

 

“Don’t ask questions,” Mick said. “How do we build a nest?” 

 

“I will ask questions,” Charles crossed his arms. His hair looked spectacularly good and it almost seemed like he was wearing eyeliner. George bit his tongue so that he didn’t ask if they had interrupted his weird kinky sex with Max. “Why do you need to know how to build a nest?” 

 

“It’s for a bit.” 

 

“It’s a misunderstanding.” 

 

George and Mick looked at eachother. 

 

Charles seemed unconvinced. “Right. So. Why can’t you just youtube it? Or like, what’s that other platform? Reddit?” 

 

That was a good question. 

 

“Someone decided to call you before I could,” George said honestly. 

 

“I am not telling you until I know what it is for.”

 

George groaned. 

 

“It’s for a prank,” Mick said. “We can't tell you more than that because it will ruin the joke.”

 

“But not a prank against me?” Charles raised an eyebrow.

 

“Not against you.” 

 

“And you promise to tell me of this prank after it is done?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

George kicked Mick under the covers. 

 

“Fine,” Charles said. “But I expect that in writing. You will be hearing from my lawyer.” 

 

George ignored him. “Can you just tell us how to do it?” 

 

“You need, like, a lot of blankets and then clothes. And they have to smell like the both of you,” Charles said. He had gone back to fixing his appearance in a mirror that was definitely next to his phone. “Some people use pillows. I do not. And then you have to arrange it in a way that you find pleasing. And the shape depends on what you are doing in the nest.” 

 

“It does what now?” George’s eyes widened. Maybe he was glad he wasn’t an omega. 

 

“Well, like, obviously a nest for a heat is different than a nest for a rut which is different than a nest for fucking or a nest for sleeping.” 

 

This was not obvious. George chose to not point that out. 

 

“Where do we build it?” Mick asked. 

 

Charles shrugged. “It is up to you, but it also depends on the activity like I said. Most of the time they are on beds or mattresses or in designated corners, but sometimes they are not.” 

 

How helpful.

 

“You two are in a hotel room, yes?” 

 

George and Mick nodded. 

 

“So then it is proper to do it on the bed because you do not know if anyone has fucked on the carpets before you.” 

 

Well, that was a mental image. 

 

“Or at least, that is what me and Max say.” 

 

That was information that George didn’t really need to know. 

 

“And we just arrange it however we want?” Mick asked. 

 

“Well everyone has a preference,” Charles said. “And it depends on what you are doing. A nest for sleeping has more padding than a nest for fucking, obviously.” 

 

Again, it was not obvious. 

 

Mick, though, was determined. “But like, do you put the blankets on the bottom or….?” 

 

“I am not going to tell you the specifics of nest building,” Charles said, throwing up his hands. “I do not know what you are using it for and you will not tell me so this is all that you are going to get.” 

 

“Well, hypothetically, if you just wanted to cuddle in it to know what it felt like….?” Mick trailed off. His scent was starting to sour again. 

 

“This whole thing better not be built off of a hypothetical,” Charles groaned. 

 

“It’s not,” George said. “But that is, kind of, what we are using it for.” 

 

“Then use a lot of blankets, make it big, so you can both fit in it,” Charles said. “Really, whatever you throw together will probably be passable and then just like, look it up on google or something. Most important thing is that it smells like you. And it is always polite to ask if you can enter it.” In the background George heard what was likely Max’s voice saying something. “And now I have to go so, be safe and don’t forget your promise.” 

 

Charles blew them a kiss and the call ended. 

 

“Well that was….less than helpful?” Mick sighed. 

 

George looked down at his phone and- 

 

“Fucking hell.” He swore. “Lewis and Nico wanna come over here in ten.”

 

Mick’s face went a bit pink. 

 

George seriously was beginning to wonder why Mick was blushing so much. But he didn’t have time to ask.

 

“We should- we should start making this then.” Mick suggested. “That way Lewis and Nico aren’t suspicious.”

 

“Could I have a kiss first?” George mumbled, feeling slightly awkward about asking out of nowhere. 

 

Mick tilted his head. “You know you don’t need to ask first, right?”

 

“Yes, but it’s the principle of the thing and I don’t want to-” 

 

Mick kissed him. Hard. His hand went to George’s waist, George was seriously trying not to think back to the night before when he had Mick’s fingers in his mouth and-

 

Mick pulled away. “For later, Georgie, okay? I’ll even let you suck on my-”

 

“That’s enough.” George cleared his throat. “We have a nest to build.”

 

By the time Lewis and Nico were knocking at the door, Mick and George had created a strange circle of various blankets, clothes, pillows, and a single little dog plushie that had been hiding in the depths of Mick’s luggage. Each item had been carefully scent marked- or at least what George thought was scent marking because he had never actually done it before because no one could actually smell him- before being set down.

 

In the center of it all was a very dazed and dizzy looking Mick, whom George loathed to leave behind when he went to answer the door. 

 

He opened the door, and was immediately met with a flurry of greetings and apologies that only served to confuse him more. Lewis kept rambling to him about sleeping, and Nico was asking about food and blood and all sorts of nonsense that George couldn’t follow because they were talking over each other which only resulted in giving George the beginnings of a headache.

 

But thankfully, Mick spoke up from the nest, saving George from having to figure out what the fuck Nico and Lewis were saying.

 

“Georgie-?” Mick mumbled, sounding miserable. George was impressed with his acting, if he was being honest. “Georgie, won’t you come to bed?”

 

Oh.

 

“Hang on,” George said to Lewis and Nico, before calling into the room. “Mick, angel-” and he was absolutely ignoring the nearly inaudible aww coming from both Lewis and Nico at the nickname for Mick “-can they come in or should I yell from the bed into the hallway?”

 

Mick hesitated for a moment. “They can come in, but I don’t want them near me. They can go to the table and chairs.”

 

The table and chairs were directly by the doorway and George was honestly glad Mick wanted them far away because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if they messed up how nice it smelled in the room. 

 

“You heard him,” George said. “Don’t go further in, got it?”

 

It was a threat.

 

George didn’t feel bad about it.

 

Both Nico and Lewis nodded, and followed George into the room, sitting down at the table and chairs.

 

Nico was staring down the nest.

 

George tried to pay him no mind and walked up to the bed, and before he got in, he somehow remembered Charles’ advice. “Can I enter, angel?”

 

Mick nodded, reaching a hand out to him from where he was now completely hidden under the blankets. George didn’t hesitate to slip in next to him, and let Mick move him into a position that was comfortable for both of them.

 

“Is that the best he could manage?” Nico whispered, staring at the nest.

 

Before George could speak to defend their objectively terrible nest, Lewis was resting a hand on Nico’s arm. “Darling, please be nice to him. At least he has managed to finally make one.” 

 

Nico, blessedly, shut up. 

 

George still made his best angry face. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him like that.” 

 

Underneath the blanket, Mick’s shoulder shook with laughter.

 

Nico and Lewis, though, looked shocked. It took George a second to realize that they thought Mick was crying.

 

“See? You made him upset. Please apologize.” 

 

“I’m very sorry Mick,” Nico said, surprisingly genuinely. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just glad you’ve finally found the strength to make a nest at all.” 

 

Mick poked his hand out from under the blanket and gave Nico a thumbs up. 

 

“So,” George said, combing his fingers through Mick’s hair. Mick had ended up with his head in George’s lap and just his small puff of blonde hair was visible above the blanket. “What did you want to discuss?”

 

“Well, most importantly: when you do you think you’ll be able to leave?”

 

Oh. 

 

Right.

 

George was beginning to think he should’ve actually read through any of Lewis’ texts prior to their visit. “Well, it’s really up to my angel, innit?”

 

The blanket shifted, and George suddenly got a strong facefull of lemonade smell. He reminded himself to refer to Mick as his angel more often.

 

“Mick?” George asked again, “Angel, you didn’t fall asleep again, right?”

 

“I’m awake, Georgie. I was just thinking. I can leave tomorrow?”

 

“Okay.” George spoke again, louder so Nico and Lewis could hear him. “He says he’ll be ready by tomorrow.”

 

Nico’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. “Well, does his doctor agree with that?” 

 

“I beg your pardon?” 

 

“His doctor,” Nico said again. “He needs to be cleared to fly. I will not let him on a plane until I have proof he’s been cleared.” 

 

George raised his eyebrows at Nico’s audacity. “Well, he’s been through it before, I trust his judgment.” 

 

“So he hasn’t been to a doctor? For fuck’s sake what have you two been doing? This is his health on the line here!” 

 

George blinked. “I didn’t say that.” 

 

“So he has been to a doctor?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Under the blanket, Mick pinched his thigh. George tried not to react. 

 

“Then it won't be a problem to get clearance from his doctor saying he can fly.” 

 

“Why don’t you trust his judgment?” George said, a bit incredulous. Even though, yes, none of what Nico suspected was true, it was still a complete dick move to go in, assume someone was having a miscarriage, not be clear about assuming that someone was having a miscarriage, and then proceed to demand medical paperwork. Especially since Nico was working under the assumption that Mick had been through this before. “Mick is a grown man, and if he says the doctor clears him, I trust him. It’s really none of your business as to what the doctor says. You aren’t part of Mercedes anymore, it’s not your job to know, and you have no right to know. Got it?”

 

George could feel Mick’s jaw drop.

 

Nico shrunk back slightly. Lewis rested his hand back on Nico’s arm and began drawing small circles on it. 

 

“I just-” Nico muttered. “I just know sometimes you can’t trust your own judgment on these things, no matter how many times it has happened. And I don’t want him to end up like me.” 

 

The confusion on George’s face must have shown because Nico kept talking. 

 

“There’s a reason I can’t get pregnant, you know?” 

 

George did not know. He would prefer to never know. But somehow Nico was still talking. 

 

“So, excuse me for wanting a medical professional to say he’s cleared to fly. Unless he’s interested in having part of his ovaries explode from the pressure like mine did.”

 

There were few times in his life where George had been stunned speechless. This was one of those times. 

 

All he could think about as he stared into Nico’s tearful eyes was that they had really, really, dug themselves deep into a hole. 

 

And then Mick bit his pinkie. Hard.

 

George took it as a push for him to stop staring in horror and to actually say something.

 

“Yeah,” George said, finally finding his voice. “Totally reasonable. We’ll, uh, get that to you ASAP.” 

 

Mick bit his finger even harder. 

 

Clearly that was not the right thing to say, but Nico was relaxing into Lewis’s hand now, so that was at least something .

 

“So-” Lewis spoke, breaking the silence. “Food. What do you want?”

 

Nothing . George thought, thinking about how many bowls of soup he had taken two bites out of before throwing it out. But he couldn’t say that, not when Mick definitely also needed to eat.

 

“We have soup here. Mick probably should-” George’s stomach rumbled again, he ignored it. “-Mick should probably eat some.”

 

“Hey.”  Mick’s voice was low. “You didn’t eat earlier.”

 

“I-” George stuttered. “I-I did.”

 

Nico’s gaze was directly on him now.

 

“No, you didn’t. I just heard your stomach rumble.”

 

“I’ve eaten-”

 

“No you haven’t.” Mick interrupted. “I haven’t seen you eat more than two bites while we’ve been here together, and I literally woke up to your stomach growling.”

 

“I don’t-” George didn’t know how to respond, because now both Nico and Lewis were shooting him concerned looks. And now that they were back and they were talking about this stupid misunderstanding again, all of George’s insecurities were back too. “I don’t want it.”

 

It was definitely the wrong thing to say.

 

Nico looked at Lewis. Lewis nodded. It looked a bit like they were having a weird telepathic conversation, but before George could ask, Nico was speaking.

 

“George, could I talk to you outside please?”

 

“Um.”

 

“Don’t touch him.” Mick called from under the blankets. “But please make him eat something.”

 

Mick lightly shoved him out of the nest. George went begrudgingly. 

 

***

 

Nico waited until the hotel room door was mostly shut before speaking. 

 

“I know exactly what you’re doing, don’t think I can’t tell.” 

 

George found that interesting, given that Nico couldn’t have a clue less about what was going on.

 

“I’m just stressed,” he said, repeating his earlier excuse to Mick. He really was not in the mood for some kind of lecture about how it was normal to be upset now that he wasn’t going to be a father and etc, etc. 

 

But that was not what happened. Nico cocked his head. “I was a second Mercedes driver too, in case you forgot,” he said. “No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I still was. I know what it does to you. I know what the pressure is like. And on top of everything else right now, Mick does not need you succumbing to that pressure. If you’re not going to do it for yourself, you better do it for him. Because he needs you.” 

 

“I’m not doing anything,” George protested. “I’m just…stressed about Mick’s….condition.” 

 

“Uh huh,” Nico said, unamused. “And I’m the King of England.” 

 

“Queen, actually.” 

 

Nico looked like he wanted to slap him. “Please just get your head out of your ass and realize that people care about you. And if you want I can give you the contact information for a very, very good psychologist.” 

 

As if George needed another one of those. 

 

“No, thanks,” George said. “I’m fine. I promise. It’s only when I’m stressed.”

 

“So when was the last time you weren’t stressed?” 

 

Oh.

 

Oh .

 

“Well?” Nico prodded. “If it’s just stress, you can tell me when the last time you ate a full meal without feeling guilty was, right?”

 

Fuck .

 

“I-” George wracked his brain, desperately trying to think of something, sometime when he didn’t feel ashamed and like he properly deserved his food, and like it wouldn’t jeopardize his racing, and for a single horrible moment George realized exactly what Nico was getting at. He couldn’t remember. He had no fucking clue. “I- um-”

 

“George?” Nico asked again, this time sounding concerned. 

 

George shook his head. Why was this any of Nico’s business anyway? And seriously, what did he know about any of this? He was a champion. 

 

George wasn’t.

 

He had to do whatever it took to get there, and no matter how much Nico claimed that there were people who cared and whatever other nonsense he sprouted, it didn’t mean that George was going to stop. And if Nico wanted to yell at him, and call him selfish, that was fine. Because George knew exactly who he learned it from, and that person was standing directly in front of him.

 

And even then, only some of it came from pressure from Mercedes. The rest, the part that had thought he had trained out of himself, came from him not being comfortable in his own skin.

 

“It’s none of your business.” George said coldly, knocking on the door for Lewis to let him back in. 

 

“George-”

 

***

 

George ignored Nico as he stepped back into the room.

 

“Georgie,” Mick whined from the nest. “I need you.” 

 

Lewis handed the bag of food from next to the door next to George. “You both need to eat,” he said with a firm look. 

 

George nodded numbly. He was not in the mood to pick any more fights today. 

 

He took the bag and walked back over to the nest. 

 

“Can I come in?” he asked softly, not trusting his voice not to break. 

 

“Please,” Mick said quietly. “You smell- you’re- you’re so upset.” 

 

George placed the food bag on the nightstand and tumbled into the nest and let Mick guide his head to Mick’s wrist. He smelled good. It managed to take the edge off of his panic. 

 

“Are you alright?” Mick asked softly, not caring that they had an audience. 

 

George nodded. It was unconvincing.

 

“Okay,” Mick smiled. “Can I have some soup?” 

 

Soup. Yes. 

 

George reached over and took out the container of broth for Mick. He took off the lid and held it to his lips. Mick could probably hold it on his own at this point, but they needed to keep up their image for Lewis and Nico. 

 

Mick took a few swallows. “It’s good,” he said. “You should have some.” 

 

George wordlessly took the container to his mouth and swallowed three times without protest, making direct eye contact with Nico the entire time. 

 

Nico didn’t look pleased, but he also didn’t look upset. 

 

“There’s one for you in there, George,” Lewis said. “It’s got a bit more in it, it’ll probably be more filling.”

 

George knew that he had no choice but to grab it. 

 

It was slightly spicier than Mick’s had been, but it was still good. And there were chunks of potatoes and some other vegetables he couldn't identify in it. 

 

It took the hard edge off of his hunger and in no time at all he had ate half the container. 

 

“Can I try?” Mick asked. 

 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” George said. 

 

“You got to try mine!” Mick widened his eyes and stared up at George. “Please?”

 

“Fine,” George wordlessly held the container of soup to Mick’s lips. 

 

Mere seconds later he was replacing the soup with the trash can as Mick dry heaved. Somehow, George was entirely unsurprised by it.

 

“You’re okay, angel,” he whispered, pulling Mick’s hair away from his face. “You’re okay.”

 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Nico and Lewis finally slipping out of the hotel room.

 

“You’re okay, my angel. You’re safe.”

 

Mick gagged again, tears streaming down his face, but after a few more moments, he pulled away from the trash can. George wiped away his tears as gently as he could.

 

“That was some mega acting, by the way,” George said as soon as he knew the door was shut and Lewis and Nico were gone. “I didn’t know you had that in you.” 

 

“I wasn’t acting,” Mick said, his voice rough as he collapsed back on George. “I think I overexerted myself again by making the nest. My head is killing me.” 

 

All George could do was hug Mick and tell him that everything was going to be okay. 

 

Now he could add unobservant boyfriend to the long list of things he was apparently doing wrong, directly under being selfish, and whatever else Nico thought of him.

 

“You’re overthinking.” 

 

George sighed. “How did you know?” 

 

“I can smell it on you.”

 

Right. 

 

“Georgie, I know we really don’t know each other too well yet, but I do care about you. And I love you. And I want you to know that I would do anything for you.”

 

A small weight slowly started to lift off of George’s chest. “Even when I don’t finish a race and I’m so stressed I can’t eat and when my coworker thinks you're having a miscarriage?” 

 

Mick kissed his cheek. “Especially then.” 

 

And today, that was enough. 

Notes:

summary of *** sections: essentially, george does not realize he has a problem until nico brings it up. nico assumes that it is pressure from being a mercedes driver and warns him that he needs to take care of himself for micks sake. george does not take it well, but admits (internally) that its a problem caused by the pressure of racing and his own discomfort with his body .

anyway, a nice fun one for you all. id say it gets happier but it will take a minute--> once this section of chapters is over time will move by a bit faster so we'll get more cutesy morge and less brocedes angst
yell at me in the comments if you would like, we can have a long discussion about all of georges various issues and ALSO shout out to 33ILG81 who realized why mick is feeling so sick ;)

thank u for reading and hope you enjoyed!!!!

Chapter 12: nico rosberg and his canon love of beige are no match for mick imprisoned in horny jail

Summary:

plane scene! mick panics, gets high, jacks off on sir lewis hamiltons plane, panics again, and somehow doesnt make things worse

tw for recreational drug use btw

Notes:

yadda yadda 10.6k words of morge plus brocedes and somehow they dont make it worse. now that weve dealt with this we can finally get to the main plotline! yay!

 

“C’mon, Mick, we gotta get ready for our flight.” 

 

Mick groaned and flipped the blankets over his head.

 

“Mick, angel, c’mon-” and then the blankets were being tugged off his face, and Mick was greeted with George’s very tired, very pretty face. It wasn’t a bad way to wake up, though Mick would have preferred if George hadn’t elected to wake him up at- Mick looked over at the clock- six in the morning.

 

“Who’s idea was it for us to leave this early?” he groaned, throwing his hands over his eyes. 

 

“Not mine, that’s for sure,” George laughed. “Now come on, we need to pack.”

 

“Noooo-”

 

There was suddenly a hand over his mouth.

 

Mick stared up at George, trying to give him the most miserable look of his life, so George would stop running around and pay attention to him. It didn’t work, and soon enough George was flitting around the room, tidying up random things, tucking certain things here and there, and doing everything that didn’t involve Mick.

 

Mick sat up, rubbed his eyes and stared with wide eyes as George downed a cup of coffee.

 

Mick pulled the blankets up onto his lap more as he watched him swallow, and hoped that his scent didn’t give him away. His hopes were diminished when George turned and winked at him. At least George’s scent was also sweetening, though he really didn’t seem inclined to do anything about it.

 

“Angel, you need to get up. I’m going to pack my things lickity split, and all you need to do is change okay? I’ll pack your things for you when I get back.” And then George was kissing him quickly, swiping the room’s key card from the nightstand, and rushing out of the room.

 

Mick stared after him in shock.

 

Then he got out of bed and forced himself to take the fastest, most freezing shower of his life. 

 

The coldness of his shower was helped by the fact that he immediately put on sweatpants afterwards. And then he went about packing up his room, starting in the bathroom first. Because while he loved George, he had a distinct feeling that however George packed his stuff was going to piss him off into the next century and he would still be looking for his socks by the time they were in Abu Dhabi. 

 

Not that George was unorganized. He was just organized in a way that was not conducive to Mick. 

 

He had just zipped up his suitcase when George reentered the room.

 

“You packed your own things?” George asked, staring despondently at Mick’s suitcase. “I could have done it for you and-”

 

George was rolling three suitcases behind him and was wearing a backpack. Mick didn’t even want to think about what George had brought to bring that required three very shiny suitcases.

 

Mick had two bags.

 

And yes, one of them was quite large, but the other was literally just his backpack. 

 

“Georgie, I’m a bit scared of whatever your packing style is. So I did it myself so I knew I’d know where I have my socks.”

 

George sighed, but gestured towards the coffeemaker. “I made you a cup of coffee if you would like. We need to leave in five minutes.”

 

Mick strolled over to the coffeemaker and chugged the coffee. It was bitter, gross, and all kinds of unpleasant, but it was coffee so it had to be good enough.

 

“I’m ready.” He said, looking around one last time. “Are you?”

 

George nodded and grabbed his hand, kissing him quickly on the lips. 

 

“Wait,” Mick said, grabbing George’s sleeve as he went to reach for his suitcases. “We don’t have a doctor's note.” 

 

“Oh, it’s been taken care of,” Geroge said, pulling away to grab his suitcases. “We’re all set.”

 

Mick gaped at him. “How?”

 

“I have my sources.” 

 

Terrifying. 

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“What it means is,” George paused, opening the door for Mick so he could leave the room “-due to the Privacy Act of 1988, Nico can’t call any doctors and demand information from them to verify if you really saw a doctor. Furthermore, because it seems that forging doctor's notes is only legally fraud if you are trying to get around some legal threshold- whether that be trying to circumnavigate a situation at work, or if you are trying to gain some kind of financial benefit, or anything relating to those things. So, what I am saying is this: Nico can’t contact the doctor, mostly because he doesn’t exist, and even if he tried to, there is no way he could get information. If he did find out we were using a fake note- which he won’t- he also cannot take any legal action against us because it isn’t the plane’s safety procedure, it’s Nico’s own rule. We aren’t breaking any laws, and it would be impossible for us to get in any legal sticky situations. It is also worth noting that the only issue we could have is if you were actually… you know… and if you had something bad happen to you, and in that case, you just wouldn’t be able to sue Nico because he would have had no reason to suspect that you were lying. Anyway-” George took a deep breath- “Anyway, um-”

 

If he continued speaking, Mick did not hear any of it. He was too fascinated by the way his fake, uptight accent slipped away as he got more and more into the legal jargon. Legal jargon that he had apparently researched for Mick. 

 

It took every ounce of self control Mick had to not slam him into the wall and kiss him senseless. Among…other things.

 

“Did you follow all that love?”

 

Mick blinked. Not a single word. “Mhm.”

 

George laughed. “Are you sure? I can go through it again.”

 

Mick would have very much liked to hear it again. Preferably while they were in bed. And not about to go share a flight with Nico and Lewis. “Don’t we have a flight to catch?” He squirmed a little. 

 

George’s eyes flicked down. He looked back at Mick’s face with a devilish smirk. “We could always say we got stuck in traffic.”

 

“Georgie, princess-“ Mick swallowed down a giggle at how bright red George’s ears turned. “If you get me in bed right now I am never coming out.”

 

“Later then?” George asked, reaching for the door again. “Back at my place?”

 

Mick nodded eagerly. as he followed George out of the door. 

 

“I still have one question though,” he said as they approached the elevators. “Did you forge the doctor’s note yourself?”

 

George rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft, Mick. My skills are in powerpoint, not photoshop. I had Charles do it.”

 

Mick groaned. “Great, not he really thinks that we’re having weird kinky sex.”

 

“Oh yeah,” George pushed the down button. “He made that very clear.”

 

Fantastic.

 

The two of them stepped into the elevator. 

 

“Here’s the plan,” George said. “I know Nico and Lewis think, well, we know what they think, but you don’t need to play into that, okay?” 

 

Mick nodded. 

 

“I did some research and theoretically by now is when I think they’d expect you to be doing better anyway. So, just go into it normally.”

 

Normal. 

 

What even was that anymore?

 

“And you need to let me know if anything becomes too overwhelming,” Geroge said. His eyes were very big and very serious. 

 

“I will,” Mick said. Both he and George had elected to not wear blockers. Mick because he couldn’t and George because he wanted to be a calming presence for Mick if the airport or the plane got too overwhelming. 

 

Mick felt fine, he was objectively mostly back to normal, but he hadn’t been outside of his hotel room. And according to the internet (and Charles) he might get easily overwhelmed by other smells. 

 

Mick really hoped that that would not be the case.

 

But, just like everything else recently, that didn’t quite pan out in his favor. 

 

The moment Mick stepped out into the lobby, he felt sick. And it wasn’t just the smells. It was the weird music the hotel was playing, it was the receptionists calling out to them, it was even George thanking them, and Mick found himself cringing at every new noise. 

 

But, as expected, the smells were awful. 

 

Mick didn’t have a particularly strong sense of smell, for obvious reasons, but it was strong enough where it was almost enough to make him want to hide back into George’s arms. But that wasn’t an option. He just had to grit his teeth and keep walking to the car, and hope he didn’t burst into tears before George started to drive away.  

 

George waited until all of the doors were closed before leaning across the center console and giving Mick a warm hug. 

 

Mick relaxed immediately. 

 

“Are you alright, love?” George whispered, like he didn’t want to overwhelm him more. 

 

Mick nodded. “Just a lot of smells. And sounds.”

 

George held him for a moment longer. 

 

“The airport is going to be worse,” George said as he pulled away. “Do you think you’ll be able to handle it?”

 

Mick cringed, he hadn’t really considered that. 

 

“Wait one second, angel. I have an idea.”

 

George got out of the car and opened the back door, rooting around in his and Mick’s backpack for a minute before returning to the car. 

 

“Here,” he said, laying two objects into Mick’s lap. 

 

One was a disposable covid mask that George must have had floating around in his bag. The second was Mick’s headphones. 

 

“Do you think you could do it with those? I know it won’t block everything but it might make it more bearable. And I can scent mark the inside of the mask before we get out of the car.” 

 

Mick could cry. 

 

He nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry this is such a burden.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” George reassured him, kissing him again. “And it’s not a problem.”

 

It was a problem. 

 

It was definitely a problem. Because Mick couldn’t wear headphones through security, and then they had to metal detect him separately because of course his luck was just that bad and while the mask helped, George was not wearing a mask which meant they kept getting recognized and people kept coming up to him and asking him questions and about photos and it felt just rude to put on headphones and ignore everyone, and by the time they had reached a quiet section of the airport, Mick felt dead on his feet and just about ready to collapse. 

 

But they hadn’t even gotten close to where Nico’s plane was, and the headphones weren’t helping as much anymore, and he felt a bit like he was going to be sick, and he didn’t want to disturb George but he was on the verge of a panic attack and George promised him he wasn’t a bother, so he tapped George on the shoulder and hoped he wouldn’t be too mad.

 

“I need-” Mick stuttered. “I need a- ah-”

 

“Mick, are you okay?” George asked, “Are you going to be alright?”

 

“I can’t go any farther. I’m really sorry. I can’t. I don’t- I don’t know-”

 

George looked around quickly, before cracking his knuckles and suddenly he was scooping Mick into his arms and walking down the long expanse of the terminal. No one seemed to pay them any mind, but Mick didn’t dare pull down his mask to properly scent George. He couldn’t do that. Not in public. This was already pushing it.

 

“Is this better?”

 

Mick nodded. 

 

“Good. Just keep breathing, angel, and it’ll all be okay.”

 

Mick squeezed his eyes shut, and just prayed that George was right. 

 

He stayed like that in George’s arms until they reached the proper gate, and George was forced to put him down to confront Nico and Lewis. They both gave him a slightly pitying look that Mick tried to ignore, but beyond that, they left him alone. He watched George talk to them, showing them the false note, Nico’s acceptance of said note, as he tried not to be too much of a burden and just stay quiet. 

 

George walked back over to him, placing a light hand on his knee as he sat down next to him.. 

 

“Everything’s fine with them, we’re good to go,” George said quietly. “They’re both wearing blockers and they said the crew was also instructed to wear blockers. They’re okay with us not, obviously. I think they can probably only barely smell us in the first place.” 

 

Mick’s shoulders sagged in relief slightly. 

 

“And Nico was fine with the doctor’s note, as I said he would be. I told them you’re just feeling overwhelmed with all the smells and the sounds and everything, which I know isn’t a lie, and they were pretty sympathetic, apparently that is normal, so everything’s fine. And Nico said something about having nesting materials for you? I’m not really sure and you can ignore them if you want. All we have to do now is get on the plane.” 

 

“How much longer?” Mick whispered. Even though they were in a quiet section of the airport, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take the constant announcements and bustle of people. He wanted to crawl into George’s lap and hide. 

 

“Ten minutes is what Nico said.” 

 

Mick tried not to groan. 

 

George took one more look at him before pulling off his own hoodie and holding it out to Mick. “Here, angel. Put this on, okay?” 

 

Mick struggled out of his own hoodie and into George’s. His scent was strong enough that he could smell it through the mask and it instantly sent some relief through his body. 

 

And not a moment too soon because next thing he knew they were calling their plane to board. 

 

Mick pulled himself up shakily. 

 

“Do you need me to carry you again?” George asked. 

 

Mick shook his head. “I think I can do it.” 

 

He was not confident at all, but he was going to at least try. 

 

George wrapped one of his arms around Mick’s waist and guided him slowly towards the boarding area. 

 

It was there that Mick realized that they would have to go outside and board the plane from the runway. 

 

Nico and Lewis were in front of them. So Mick didn’t really feel too bad when he turned to George with a defeated expression and whispered, “I don’t think I can do it, Georgie.” 

 

George stopped walking immediately. First he put Mick’s headphones back on and made sure that there was gentle music playing through them to block out some of the noise. Mick had chosen Tame Impala earlier for that purpose. Then he tugged the hood from Mick’s borrowed sweatshirt up and over his head before lifting him easily into his arms. 

 

Carefully, George lifted one of the earphones up slightly. “Close your eyes, angel,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you when you can open them again.” 

 

Despite George’s best efforts, Mick could tell exactly when they exited the airport and started walking on the tarmac. He could hear the roaring of the engines and the planes overhead and the rattle of the luggage carts and people shouting and everything. He couldn't help the whimper that he let out into George’s shoulder. 

 

George pressed his lips against Mick’s hood and walked a little faster. 

 

Tears started to leak out of the corners of Mick’s eyes as George climbed the stairs into the plane. He felt George sit down, but he couldn’t force himself to move, not yet. So he sat, shuddering softly against George’s chest as George rocked him back and forth gently.

 

George lifted his headphone again. “I think we’re going to take off soon.”

 

Mick shook his head.

 

If they were about to take off again, he’d have to move off George’s lap, and if he needed to do that than he would start having a real panic attack in front of both Nico and Lewis. And he really couldn’t have that.

 

“I can’t- Georgie-” 

 

“You need to, angel, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right here the whole time. You just need to scoot off my lap and then once we’re in the air, you can hop right back on me again and it’ll all be okay.”

 

Mick let George move him without a fight, mostly because he had none left in him, and ignored Nico and Lewis’ worried stares. He had enough going on without those two getting involved. 

 

The take off was painful, and between his own panic, and the fact that George looked paler and paler as the turbulence got worse and worse was not helping. Mick longed to comfort him, but given that he was about four seconds from puking himself, and since George had a pair of earplugs in, Mick wasn’t sure how he could help him. He really wasn’t sure if he could make it through another seventeen hours of this. 

 

But as all things do, the turbulence eventually stopped, and George was no longer white knuckling the armrest next to him, so Mick tentatively took his hood and the mask off. The moment that Mick was able to get a proper breath of George’s scent, he felt himself relax into the seat easier. 

 

“Better?” George whispered. 

 

Mick nodded. He still didn’t particularly feel up to speaking, but he did feel better. 

 

“I love you.” George kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you feel better.”

 

Mick heard Nico gasp. He ignored him. 

 

“I love you too.” Mick croaked. He still wasn’t feeling chatty, but telling George he loved him back was more than worth it. Especially when George’s eyes lit up, and he was smiling at him in just the sweetest way and Mick was beginning to seriously consider pulling him into a kiss.

 

And, well. 

 

Fuck Lewis and Nico. 

 

If they didn’t want a show, then they shouldn’t be watching. 

 

Mick pulled George into a gentle kiss, looping his arms around his neck so he stayed close. The position was a bit awkward, but Mick didn’t mind. George kissed him again, and Mick was more than happy to follow whatever George wanted and-

 

Lewis cleared his throat. 

 

George pulled away. Quickly. 

 

His face was bright red. 

 

“Do you two want a privacy curtain?” Lewis asked. Mick wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not. 

 

“I have a nest for the two of you actually.” Nico announced, clapping his hands, making Mick jump. “Sorry. Fuck. Should have thought before I clapped.”

 

“It’s okay.” Mick murmured. 

 

Nico sighed. “Anyway, I do have a nest for both of you, if you want to get in?”

 

A nest? Seriously? 

 

Was Nico that fucking offended by Mick’s truly pitful improvised nest that he felt the need to make his own?

 

Well.

 

That was actually fair.

 

Mick was honestly flattered, and if he was being honest, he could use a nest right about now. He’d been in several of Esteban’s and they were rather comfortable, and Mick really kind of needed to feel a bit warmer and safer than he did in the airplane seat before he did something embarrassing like cry more. 

 

But George was already shaking his head. “That won’t be necessary, I’m sure-”

 

“Um.” Mick spoke quietly, interrupting George. George stopped talking immediately. “I think that would be nice actually. Thank you. Could I-” he paused, trying to think of the right words. “Could I look at it first? Just in case I want to move things around if that’s allowed? I’m sure it’s a-” He desperately hoped he wasn’t making an ass out of himself, “I’m sure it’s a very nice nest but I have weird taste. So um- yeah.”

 

Nico looked a bit like he was going to cry. He was beaming. “Of course! You can move things around as much as you need, and if you can’t move well enough to move things around I’m more than happy to help.”

 

Well. 

 

That was an idea. 

 

And George had sort of gotten them into this mess so…

 

“Georgie knows what I like. He can arrange things for me. But I want to look at it while he does it just in case, if that’s okay?”

 

“Lewis and I have one as well. You can sit in there if you want?” Nico pointed to the back of the plane and-

 

Huh. 

 

He hadn’t noticed the two very large nests opposite each other behind the seats. 

 

“I didn’t realize there were spaces for nests on private planes.” 

 

“You…didn’t? But I would’ve thought with your f-” Lewis elbowed Nico cutting him off from finishing the sentence. 

 

Mick was glad. He didn’t want to talk about that now, hell, he didn’t even want to think about that now. “No, I didn’t realize. But given that I don’t usually nest…”

 

“Have you never been on one of these planes before?” George asked, a glint of mischief in his eye. Oh he was definitely getting him back for the nest thing. Fuck. “Surely you have enough money for one? And also that’s a violation of Omega wellbeing according to British article 6347: all Omegas should have fair and equal access to nesting materials when traveling for more than six hours at a time. I’m surprised no one from the team has insisted on this, with Mercedes being a British team and all. I suppose I’ll have to bring it up to Toto.” 

 

Mick was fairly certain George had just made all of that up. But Lewis looked mildly convinced. So before he could do anything like insist Mick fly with him and Nico every race weekend, Mick brought everyone’s attention back to the nest. 

 

“Um, can I just see the nest? Please? It’s very uncomfortable being in a chair.”

 

“Of course, do you think you can stand, or-?”

 

“I can carry him.” George suggested. “I’ll have to maybe duck a wee bit so I don’t hit my head, but I can get him over there.”

 

“Thank you, Georgie.” Mick mumbled. “Just be gentle, I feel a bit dizzy.”

 

He wasn’t lying. He was feeling a bit dizzy, and he was pretty sure it was because he was probably dehydrated. But George was gentle, and soon enough Mick found himself at the edge of Nico and Lewis’ nest. It had mostly beige and off-white blankets, a few pillows, and several of Lewis’ sweatshirts. It looked well-made, though considering Mick had only a few nests to properly base his knowledge on, he really wasn’t sure. 

 

“Can I go in?” He asked, not wanting to be rude. 

 

Nico looked confused. “I just said you were allowed in. And you’re another Omega. The rules don’t really-”

 

“I wanted to ask because my scent-” Mick rushed out. “I’m not wearing blockers. I don’t want to disturb the, um, vibes.”

 

“Oh! I see. Well, you still have my permission, so go in feel free to make yourself comfortable. And again, please make your nest the way you like it. I won’t be offended. I tried to make it as simple as possible so you could arrange it the way you like.”

 

Mick looked across the aisle to the other nest in question. It was also made of mostly white and off white and beige blankets (seriously, what did Nico have with beige?) and several large pillows. There was one single pillow that had pink pom poms sewn on it. The rest were, as to be expected, some kind of beige. At least they looked soft. And the nest itself looked far better than the one that he and George had rushed to construct yesterday. No wonder Nico had been so judgemental. 

 

“It looks really nice. Thank you.” Mick commented. Nico looked positively thrilled. He continued speaking. “Um. Georgie? Can you-”

 

“Yeah? What do you need, Mick?”

 

“Can you get my dog from my bag?” Mick asked. It was probably embarrassing to ask for a stupid little stupid animal in front of people, but given that he was supposed to know how nests worked, and having personal items probably would make it seem more realistic. 

 

Also Mick just liked the little dog plush. 

 

He had forgotten he had brought it with him until George had found it while shuffling through his things for the first nest they had built. 

 

He also realized he was still awkwardly standing in the aisle, so he took his sneakers off and stepped into Nico and Lewis’ nest. He sat down. Nico looked rather apprehensive, so Mick tried to think of something good to say. “It’s very soft,” he said, because it was, “I really like it.”

 

It also smelled vaguely of Nico and Lewis: Nico’s jasmine and vanilla scent intermingling with Lewis’ campfire scent. Mick missed George’s smell. He pulled the sweatshirt hood back up, hoping it would help mask Nico and Lewis’ scent.

 

“Does it smell too much like Lewis and I? I didn’t realize you would go in it, or I would have-”

 

“It’s okay. You two smell better than Mazepin, so anything is better than that.”

 

George tilted his head. “What’d he smell like?”

 

“Could you really not tell, mate?” Lewis laughed. “Man, that milk and, what was it, petrol? It was awful. How could you not smell it?”

 

George shrunk back into himself as he dug through Mick’s bag. Mick suddenly remembered the whole thing with George’s sense of smell. He decided to speak up, and prayed that it helped George rather than made him feel more self-conscious. “Well, to be fair to George, he didn’t need to spend a lot of time with him. So I don’t blame him for not knowing.”

 

“Fair- I mean, I avoided him as much as possible, so I guess I’m just jealous.”

 

George triumphantly pulled out the dog stuffed animal. “Where do you want me to put this?” 

 

Mick pointed at the nest. “Scent mark it. I am tired of smelling plane.”

 

“Um.” George began. “Okay. Can you all not look at me while I do this- I-”

 

Nico and Lewis both looked away as George began frantically rubbing the stuffed dog over the scent gland on his neck. Mick had no idea if he was doing it correctly, but once George seemed to be done, he began preparing for his next orders. 

 

“The dog needs to go in the middle.” 

 

“Okay,” George said, sliding off his shoes. “Can I go in?”

 

Nico shrugged. “It’s Mick’s nest now.”

 

Oh. 

 

“Yes. You can. Please try and make everything smell like you?”

 

George grinned. “Of course, angel. What else do you want?”

 

As it turned out, making George rearrange things to weird and specific measurements was very fun, though he had a feeling George would be less than pleased with him after Mick made him move a pillow two centimeters to the right, then to the left, then backwards, than forwards, before deciding that it’s original placement was fine. 

 

Mick yawned. They had been on the flight for nearly two hours. He was beginning to get tired, and all he really wanted was to curl up in the nest with George. 

 

Not because it was a nest. Obviously. 

 

But because it would probably smell like Earl Gray tea, and because there George could cuddle him, and so maybe he could fall asleep in it and-

 

“Do you have anything else you want me to move, or do you think it’s all set?” George asked. He looked exhausted. Mick didn’t feel too bad, considering the whole reason they were on this flight in the first place was because of George. “I don’t know how much more rearranging I can do, angel. I’m getting pretty knackered.”

 

Mick nodded. His eyes were barely open at this point. He reached his hands up for George. “Can you help me out?” 

 

George carefully stepped out of Mick’s nest and towards Lewis and Nico’s, very careful not to touch anything because Nico was still glaring at them with a watchful eye. 

 

As soon as George had lifted Mick out of the nest, Nico rushed over and started adjusting everything. 

 

Mick didn't have the energy to pay attention to him. Not when he was nestled back against George’s chest. George stepped carefully into the nest before sitting down slowly, still holding Mick against him. 

 

“Do you want your headphones again?” George asked softly. 

 

Mick shook his head. “I just want you.” 

 

George kissed his head before adjusting slightly and pulling one of the many blankets around the two of them. Mick’s nose ended up tucked against George’s neck and he inhaled in slowly. He was asleep before he finished exhaling. 

 

Mick woke up to some of the worst turbulence he had ever felt in his life. 

 

It felt like the whole plane was shaking, and then without warning, fell about a hundred feet. 

 

His ears popped painfully and he swallowed down bile. George’s scent was not nearly enough to comfort him, nor were the words that he was currently whispering in his ear. He knew that they should probably be sitting in their seats, but it felt unsafe to move from the nest. 

 

The plane continued to shake and Mick tried not to cry. 

 

“Mick, angel, we’re alright. It’s going to be-” The lights shut off. George pulled Mick closer into his chest. “We’re going to be just fine, angel, I promise.”

 

Mick didn’t particularly feel like he was going to be just fine, especially when George’s scent was quickly turning from sweet to bitter. It was not pleasant, and Mick sincerely hoped that George could not tell just how awful it was. He was sure his scent was no better, at least. 

 

It smelled like burning. 

 

Fuck. That was always a bad sign. 

 

“Georgie-” He whispered, his voice shaking. “Georgie, do you smell burning?”

 

“No? Do you?”

 

Nico cleared his throat. “Sorry. That… that might be me.”

 

Right. 

 

Nico had a tendency to smell like painfully overly burnt candles when he was upset. 

 

At least Mick knew he wasn’t the only person who was probably making the plane reek. 

 

“It’s alright,” George repeated. “See? The bouncing isn’t as bad anymore.” 

 

The plane dropped another hundred feet. 

 

“Georgie,” Mick whimpered. “Georgie we’re going to die here.” 

 

“Nonsense, love,” George ran his fingers through Mick’s hair. “We will be fine.” 

 

“We’re going to end up lost in the ocean and then they’re going to put us in an episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved.” 

 

“Huh?” George sounded confused. Mick was not sure what was confusing about it. “Just keep breathing, okay Mick? Big breaths. You can close your eyes if you need to, I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

Mick tried to. From across the plane he vaguely heard Lewis doing similar things for Nico. 

 

The plane shook yet again. “We’re going to die here,” Mick whispered. 

 

George’s breathing hitched. His scent was still bitter. “Then we will die together.” 

 

“You both are a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Lewis asked, voice completely level. “It’s just a bit of turbulence, that’s all.”

 

Mick opened his mouth to tell Lewis to be quiet and leave them alone, but the plane jolted again and-

 

Fuck.

 

“I think I’m going to be sick.” 

 

“Shit, um, just hold tight Mick. I can try and carry you to the restroom, just don’t puke in the nest, okay? Just hold tight, and I don’t mind if you get sick on me, it’ll be okay.” George floundered, scent getting worse and worse each time the plane shook. “Mick, angel, I need a response from you.”

 

Mick noddded, praying George took it as a sign to get him the hell out of the nest. Fortunately, George seemed to know exactly what he meant and soon enough he was hunched over in the surprisingly clean airplane bathroom, feeling a lot worse than he had hoped he would. At least George was pushing his hair back, and keeping him from face planting into the toilet, though Mick really wished that he wasn’t in this situation to begin with.

 

“Done?” George asked, after a minute. “I’m going to get you a towel and your toothbrush so you can get cleaned up. Just hold tight, and I’ll be right back.”

 

Mick sincerely hoped George wasn’t planning on leaving him alone.

 

George didn’t.

 

Instead, he managed to call out to Lewis who somehow wasn’t panicking at all to grab him his toothbrush and toothpaste from his backpack.

 

By the time Mick and George managed to get back to their seats, all seemed to be a bit calmer and there was far less turbulence. Nico was also no longer making the plane smell like it was on fire, which helped soothe Mick’s nerves considerably.

 

After a few minutes of just leaning on George’s shoulder and trying not to feel too embarrassed, one of the crew peeked into the cabin.

 

“Hey, just a heads-up, we’re going to be fine for now, but in about 30 minutes or so we might be back in a rough patch if you folks want to take your proper seats and get ready for that soon.”

 

George’s scent bittered considerably. Mick watched as Lewis and Nico wrinkled their noses in disgust. It was really not a good smell, but Mick could hardly blame George for being so anxious. 

 

“Do you want to scent me?” He whispered, hoping it would help George calm down a bit.

 

George shook his head. “I don’t think that will help.”

 

Oh.

 

“Why?”

 

“Mick, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell terrified. I think it’ll only make it worse-”

 

“What are you talking about?” Lewis interrupted. “Sorry to intrude, but you know that if scent each other it’ll probably help the both of you right?”

 

“What?” George asked. “But I thought-”

 

“Well aren’t the two of you scent compatible?”

 

“We- we aren’t sure.”

 

“How can you not be sure?”

 

“We just aren’t sure.” Mick cut in. “George’s sense of smell is criminally terrible, and I’m weird. So we don’t know for sure, though obviously it seems very likely considering everything.”

 

George looked a bit betrayed. Mick felt a little bad, but he really didn’t want to lie about this too much because there was a chance that Lewis would actually be able to help them. 

 

“Hmm, well-”

 

“I also hate to interrupt, but remember there’s more turbulence coming, so do either of you want an edible?” Nico said, as if offering weed to people was a perfectly normal thing to do on an airplane.

 

What .

 

“I figure it might help everyone calm down a bit, and Mick, it might help the pain.”

 

Mick blinked. 

 

“Sure.”

 

Mick snapped his head to look at George. 

 

Lewis looked appalled. 

 

“Georgie- why-?”

 

George shrugged. “I’ve done worse.”

 

“Like what?” Mick cried, voice cracking. George looked like he was thinking just a little bit too hard. Mick realized he didn’t want to know. “Don’t answer that.”

 

“Do you want one, Mick? I do think it’ll help. I’ve used them before during…” Nico looked away. “Sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up. But it’ll help, I think.”

 

Fuck it. 

 

If it helped, it helped.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“You’ve taken…these before?” Nico looked hesistant. “George, I’m talking to you too.”

 

“Nico, with all due respect, I go to parties with Fernando. I’ve done worse.”

 

Lewis’ eye twitched. “Nico…” He spoke, voice dangerously low. “Where did you get that from?”

 

Nico blew him a kiss, and tossed a slightly suspicious looking packet to him and George. “Take as many as you think you want, they hit pretty hard and last awhile, so just be careful.”

 

George took two for himself. Mick shrugged and decided to also take two. He threw back the packet, and Lewis grabbed it out of the air and shoved it into his pocket.

 

“You three are seriously going to make me take care of all of you while you’re high? Seriously? I can’t believe-”

 

George took his, looking Lewis dead in the eyes. It was kind of hot, if Mick was being honest. “You know I’ve done coke before, right? I won’t die from two edibles.”

 

That was less hot.

 

“Georgie, what the fuck -”

 

“I don’t do it routinely! I’ve only done it once or twice with Fernando, you know how it is-

 

“No the fuck I don’t!”

 

“Oh, like you weren’t high on acid after Abu Dhabi last year-”

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “It was mushrooms, and if you had to deal with finding out you were getting kicked out of Haas two days earlier in a hotel lobby room, you’d also want to experience new colors. Trust me.”

 

“Mick, what? That’s so- blimey- that’s so scummy, I can’t believe that you had to deal with that shit.” George sputtered. “That’s so horrible.”

 

“Well,” Nico started. “Maybe we should not discuss Mick’s horrible work environment before we get high.”

 

Nico had a point.

 

Mick snuggled back into George’s neck. He smelled significantly less like over-steeped tea. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” George replied, grabbing onto Mick’s hand. “Can I- um-?”

 

“Go ahead Georgie. You are more than welcome to do my neck though, if that would be better for you?”

 

George nodded. “Thank you.”

 

It was a bit of an awkward position for them to be in- both sitting seatbelted, with George’s face buried in his scent gland- but considering George’s scent was really starting to sweeten again Mick thought it was worth it. They sat there for a while, just letting their shared scents calm each other down, finally feeling a bit calmer after their earlier panic.

 

“I’m pretty sure you two are scent compatible, I mean you both look like you’re doing so much better than before like this, so I’m really not sure why you are in doubt about it.” Lewis said, snapping their focus away from each other and back at him. “Like, seriously, what was your first reaction to smelling each other?”

 

Mick shrugged, knocking George out of position. His scent began to bitter again. “Shit, sorry Georgie. You can go back-”

 

George eagerly pressed his nose back against Mick’s neck, inhaling deeply. His scent seemed to brighten again, something that made Mick smile in spite of himself. 

 

“-but I mean, I have never smelled someone who’s scent was as strong as his. It was like just a cloud of the best cup of Earl Gray tea I’ve ever smelled, and I just… I don’t know. I just sort of wanted to hide in his arms and never leave.” Mick could feel his cheeks burning red, but given that he could feel George grinning on his shoulder, it was hard to feel

too embarrassed. He also felt a bit like he was swaying, but that really wasn’t important right now. “I don’t know- he’s just- ah . I cannot find the words in English. But his scent is so nice, and he makes me feel so good especially when he lets me-”

 

There was a hand over his mouth. Mick frowned. “Mmph?”

 

“Angel, I think you want to think about what you’re saying before you continue that sentence.”

 

“Hm?”

 

George sighed. “You’re already high, aren’t you?”

 

Mick shook his head. He couldn’t be. It had only been maybe ten minutes since he had taken the edible.

 

“It’s been thirty minutes.” Nico cut in. Mick blearily looked over at him. He was leaning onto Lewis, his eyes red. “And I feel it a bit.”

 

“Okay. So you two are going to be disasters?” Lewis asked, sighing. “Great. Anyway, George, what was your reaction to Mick’s scent?”

 

“I thought he was in heat.”

 

Lewis blinked. “Was he?”

 

“No.” George laughed. “He wasn’t. And I was the only person who smelled him.”

 

Lewis snorted. “And I assume you confronted him about that and started talking about the different rules revolving around heats and ruts, and were utterly insufferable about it?”

 

George’s cheeks reddened. It was adorable. Mick poked his cheek. George fucking giggled at that and pulled his hand away. Mick frowned, but before he could poke him, George was talking again. 

 

“Well, I didn’t want Mick to be in danger! So I offered him my room, and if he needed help, he was all confused so then we started talking and…well… things happened.”

 

“Right. So in all of your safety talk you forgot to wear a condom? Seriously?” Nico piped up, voice slurring slightly. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

 

“What? !” George’s voice cracked. Mick tilted his head at him, hoping George would notice him. “Is somethin’ wrong, angel?”

 

Oh. 

 

George’s voice was. 

 

Huh. 

 

“You sound funny.” Mick mumbled. “It’s very hot.”

 

The hand was back over his mouth. 

 

“Anyway,” George shrugged. “That is not your business. It isn’t my fault that we was in the same room and he smelled so good.” 

 

“Mate,” Lewis started, looking a bit like he was about to bowl over in laughter. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Eh? Well, I’m feeling rather fine and-” 

 

And that was about all that Mick could understand from George. His inflection was all off, and his words were running together, and suddenly Mick suddenly remembered sitting next to him in 2018, at the fucking prize giving ceremony when he was getting his F3 award and when George was getting his F2 award and-

 

“Georgie?” Mick finally managed to move George’s hand off of his mouth. “Georgie?” 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you remember in 2018 when- um- we were at the celebrations? And we had to give interviews next to each other? You gave me advice.”

 

“ Jesus Christ.” Lewis sighed. “Are you two going to spend the whole flight canoodling?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Well?”

 

“I do not know what the, ah, canoodling is?” Mick responded, as best as he could, though George’s shoulder looked really comfortable and he kind of just wanted to fall asleep on him. 

 

“It’s like cuddling, n’ shit.” George mumbled. “So, yea? He is my boyfriend.”

 

“Oh. You aren’t courting?” Nico asked, “But you said you-”

“It’s serious. We just aren’t courting yet, because of…well… everything.” George responded. It was much better put than Mick would have been able to say, and that was probably because Mick wasn’t confident he was capable of speaking any language that wasn’t German or French. He nodded along with him though, that way no one got suspicious. 

 

“Oh.” Lewis murmured, “I-” he sighed, “I guess that makes sense given the circumstances.”

 

“ So are we free from the turbulence ?” Mick yawned, suddenly remembering that there was supposed to be turbulence soon, but he couldn’t tell what time it was. “ Is it over? ”

 

“What?” 

 

“No,” Nico responded back to him. “Soon.”

 

Perfect. 

 

Mick turned to George, whose face was still in his neck. His hair was fluffing out around his head and it was soft where it tickled his neck.

 

“ You’re so pretty. Like a princess. Your hair is soft and you are wonderful and I love you and you smell good and I want to boop your nose.”

 

Mick then realized that he could, in fact, boop George’s nose. So he did. George seemed confused, so he booped him again.

 

Nico was trying not to laugh. 

 

“ What’s so funny?” 

 

Nico properly laughed this time. “You’re calling him a princess? And getting away with it?” 

 

Mick frowned. “Why are you listening to me?”

 

“You’re speaking German. I speak German. It’s not that hard.” 

 

Mick had not realized he was doing that. 

 

“Oh no,” George said next to him. “You look sad. Why are you sad?”

 

“Nico is listening to me,” Mick pouted. 

 

“I can’t understand you, love. But you look cute when you get upset.” George’s eyes were very big and very blue and very pretty. 

 

Mick dug around in his brain. Surely he spoke another language. 

 

“ Your eyes are so big and nice. I want to go swimming in them. They would smell like you and- hey!” Mick frowned at Nico who was once again, laughing at him. 

 

“ I also speak French.”

 

Mick crossed his arms. “ Is there any language you don’t speak?” 

 

Nico considered. He was cuddled very very tightly against Lewis, who managed to look bemused even though he probably also couldn’t understand what was happening. 

 

“I don’t speak Dutch,” Nico finally said. 

 

Did Mick speak Dutch? He couldn’t remember. He still gave it a shot though. 

 

George nuzzled further against his neck. It felt so good to be loved by someone. 

 

Tears started collecting in Mick’s eyes as he started speaking again. “ I love you and you’re so amazing and thank you for taking care of me. You didn’t have to and you did and it was so nice to be cared about and loved and smell someone so nice and lovely and I love you and I would do the same for you because you’re so amazing and-“

 

Nico let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle.

 

Mick’s eyes snapped to him and he glared. “You said you didn’t speak Dutch!” 

 

“ You don’t speak Dutch either, that was Italian.”

 

Oh. 

 

Mick opened his mouth to argue but the plane dropped again. George set his forehead down on Mick’s shoulder and squeezed him tighter. He smelled strongly like oversteeped tea. Mick wasn’t quite sure why he was so stressed though- it wasn’t that different from being in the car and it was honestly a bit like a rollercoaster. 

 

He was also tired. 

 

Really tired. 

 

His head was kind of hurting too, now that he thought of it.

 

“ Can I lay down? ” He mumbled, “ I’m tired. ”

 

“ Not yet. ” 

 

Mick groaned. That wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to wait. He was tired and he hurt and-

 

Wait.

 

Why did he have to ask permission? He was Mick fucking Schumacher and if he wanted to lie down, then he had every fucking right to.

 

He pushed out of George’s grip- ignoring his cry of distress- and found his way to his feet.

 

“Mick, no-” Lewis said. “You need to sit down.”

 

Mick did not sit down. Instead he stumbled as the plane shook again, and fell directly into the wonderfully soft and comfortable pile of blankets in the nest. He took his shoes off, carefully depositing them out of the aisle to not trip anyone, and then fully shuffled in.

 

He pulled the blankets tight around him, moved a few pillows around so he could lie down better, and curled up. It was a lot better than the seat but-

 

But now he didn’t have George.

 

Lewis and Nico were talking to George in hushed voices, and while Mick couldn’t figure out what they were saying, it sounded like they were trying to comfort him. George’s scent was only worsening though, and Mick suddenly felt very guilty about leaving him behind.

 

“Georgie-?” He called out, hoping George would come to him. “Georgie, please can you go to me?”

 

The English all felt wrong on his tongue, but he was at least confident it was English.

 

A few moments later, George was standing outside the nest, looking rather despondent. “Can I come in?”

 

Mick nodded, unsure why George was asking, and scooted over to give him space. Immediately, George began shakily pulling off his shoes and stepping into the nest, and it didn’t take long for him to curl himself up around Mick.

 

Mick felt someone slide his headphones on, and he felt George kiss him on the cheek, but beyond that nothing really mattered. He was so tired from panicking at the airport, and the edible definitely wasn’t helping him stay awake either, and George smelled really nice, and his arms were tight around him and-

 

He fell asleep.

 

Mick woke up to a quiet plane, a very cuddly George wrapped around him, and a rather pressing need to run to the bathroom. It wasn’t difficult to slip out of George’s arms- once he managed to move one of George’s very long limbs the rest seemed to follow- and he shakily made his way to the bathroom, trying his hardest not to wake Nico or Lewis in the nest across the aisle. Once he returned from the bathroom, he practically dove back into the nest, seeking George’s warm embrace once more.

 

The next time he woke up, feeling relatively well rested despite his ears continuously popping, he found himself in two situations. The first: George was somehow on top of him. The second: George’s thigh was between his legs and Mick was very very hard. He sincerely hoped that he hadn’t been grinding on him in his sleep because while maybe he would have woken George up to ask him to let him get off just like that, he was currently on a plane. With F1 World Champions Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg. And cumming in his sweatpants like a loser would definitely not be cool, especially when he’d be doing it without anyone’s consent. So he squeezed his eyes shut, hoped maybe his dick would calm down and that George wouldn’t move in his sleep, and tried to ignore it.

 

It was not working.

 

And George, as it turned out, moved a lot in his sleep.

 

Mick wasn’t sure how long his willpower lasted, since his phone was out of reach, but eventually he could take it no longer and shook George awake.

 

“Hmm?” George rasped, blinking up at him. “You okay?”

 

Mick looked up as much as he could. Nico and Lewis were still sleeping. He pulled off his headphones. 

 

“Georgie, I have an issue.”

 

“What is it? Can I-” George yawned. “Can I help?”

 

“Um.” Mick bit his lip. “Maybe? I’d like you to but you don’t have to.”

 

George nodded. “What’s the problem?”

 

Mick looked down. Pointedly.

 

George sighed. “Seriously?”

 

Mick smiled widely, hoping it would help persuade George to help him.

 

“No, Mick. Not on Lewis’ plane with them right there.”

 

“In the bathroom?”

 

George rolled his eyes. “Sure, but you can go alone.”

 

Boo.  

 

Mick obviously didn’t want to pressure George though so he simply pouted and pushed George off of him. “I’ll be back.”

 

George was snickering and waved, before immediately falling back asleep. 

 

Standing in the airplane bathroom, dick (and paper towels) in hand was probably one of the most shameful experiences of his life, minus the headband incidents. The worst part though, was that Mick couldn’t fucking finish. Everytime he got close, he felt such a wave of anxiety that he just couldn’t. This had never happened before, and the worst part was that Mick knew exactly what would fix it.

 

He needed something that smelled strong enough like George, to make him feel comforted and safe and-

 

Jesus Christ .

 

Mick was tempted to jump out the plane the moment he came to the very horrible realization that he had accidentally fucking conditioned himself into only cumming when he smelled George. And Mick really didn’t want to spend the next hour of the flight with a boner.

 

So, he pulled his pants back up, washed his hands, and grabbed one of the spare facecloths under the sink.

 

He shook George awake again.

 

“Have fun in there?”

 

Mick shook his head, feeling his face burn. “Can you-”

 

He held out the face cloth.

 

George raised an eyebrow. “Did you, um, in that? What?”

 

“No. Can you mark it for me? Please?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Please? I know it’s weird but I can’t- not without-” Mick felt his face turning redder and redder. “Sorry, I-”

 

“ Jesus , give me that.”

 

George’s cheeks tinged pink as he quickly scent marked the cloth. “Have fun.”

 

“Thanks.” Mick muttered, taking the cloth back. It smelled very strongly of George. Mick prayed that it worked because he really didn’t want to find out he had a problem on board Lewis’ plane.

 

Thankfully, this time it did seem to work, and once Mick returned to remembering how good George looked with his fingers in his mouth, and how good his mouth felt on him was and-

 

He bit his lip when he came, trying to stifle his moans.

 

He cleaned up his mess quickly, making use of the bottle of disinfectant under the sink, and then put everything away. Except for the face cloth. That went straight to Mick’s pocket.

 

And that’s about when the horrible no good realization that he had just jacked off on Sir Lewis Hamilton’s plane hit him.

 

He sat down with his head in his hands on the closed toilet lid and reconsidered his decision.

 

No wonder George made fun of him.

 

He did feel much better though, so he wasn’t too upset about it.

 

Unless Lewis or Nico noticed that he’d- 

 

Mick sincerely prayed that no one but George would ever know about it. 

 

He left the bathroom, feeling a mix of shame and a mix of relief that he didn’t even want to begin to think too hard about. 

 

At least George was awake, and he climbed into George’s arms (ignoring his teasing and laughter), and pulled him into a deep kiss. 

 

“I love you,” Mick whispered, after pulling away. 

 

George beamed. “I know, angel. And I love you too even though you-” George pulled him closer to whisper in his ear “-needed to sneak into the bathroom to wank.”

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “It was uncomfortable.”

 

“You could’ve waited!”

 

“Georgie, I don’t think you understand. Your leg was between my thighs and you kept moving. So this is really your fault.”

 

George’s eyes widened. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, right?”

 

“No- well, yes, but not like that. You’re okay.”

 

“And you’re feeling better?”

 

“I think so. A bit anxious when I’m apart from you but better generally. Do you know what time it is?”

 

“No idea. I took my watch off earlier so I wouldn’t hurt you while we cuddled. But I’m sure we’ll be landing soon. I feel a tad bit like I’ve slept for ten hours.”

 

They had, in fact, slept for a whopping fourteen hours.

 

Somehow.

 

There wasn’t that much longer in the flight. 

 

Nico and Lewis were asleep for another hour or so, and while they slept Mick and George preoccupied themselves with watching the Avatar movie and eating. It wasn’t a bad movie, per se, but Mick had seen it way too many times and watching George watch it was a lot better than the movie itself.

 

While the movie played, Mick couldn't help but wonder why Nico and Lewis had stopped asking him questions about the supposed miscarriage. They had been so insistent before, but now that Mick thought about it, they had barely brought it up. He looked back over at them. They were still curled up, asleep.

 

“George.” Mick whispered, pausing Avatar. “Why did they stop with the weird questions? Did you tell them something?”

 

George nodded. “I told them you were mostly feeling better but that you were worried about the flight enough as it was, and that they really shouldn’t remind you it happened unless it’s necessary. They promised they’d leave it be, but I honestly didn’t expect them to remember that.”

 

Oh.

 

Wait a minute.

 

“Could we have told them that this whole time? That we didn’t want to be bothered?”

 

George put his face in his hands. “No,” he muttered a bit bitterly, “because we had no idea what was happening till it was too late, remember?”

 

Mick did remember. He had unfortunately been there. “I guess. I wish they had been clear from the beginning though.”

 

George kissed his cheek. “Yeah, our lives would be so much easier. There’s no ifs or buts or carrots and nuts about it.”

 

Excuse me?

 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

 

George just laughed, pulled him into a slow kiss, and yanked him closer.

 

They ended moving back to their seats for the landing- something that Mick realized with a start he was not ready for. He had become comfortable on the plane, similarly to how he had become in the hotel room, and now he needed to face real life again. And real life meant airports, which meant fans and people and noise and smells and not being able to hold George, and-

 

“Mick.”

 

“Huh?” Mick bit his lip, trying not to panic as he felt the airplane continue its descent. “What-?”

 

“How bad do you think the airport will be? Do you think you’ll need me to carry you again?”

 

“Georgie-” Mick breathed, trying to calm himself down. “George, people will see. And they will assume. And they’ll take pictures and they’ll be nosy and it’s going to be awful.”

 

“You’ll be okay. If people try to talk to you, you don’t need to answer.”

 

“I mean, I kind of do. Can you imagine the headlines? ‘Mick Schumacher is rude to some lady in an airport then sobs on George Russell?’ I can’t deal with that. Not while I don’t have a seat.”

 

“I’ll sue them before that happens,” Nico said from across the aisle. 

 

“Nico,” Lewis placed a hand on his thigh. 

 

Mick closed his eyes. Nico Rosberg Suing On Behalf Of Mick Schumacher was almost a worse headline. 

 

“We can call ahead and ask for extra security,” Lewis offered. “I’ve done it before, it’s not a problem.”

 

“Mick?” George asked when Mick didn’t respond after a minute. “Did you hear Lewis? Would you like that?”

 

Mick sighed, still not opening his eyes as he tried to swallow down his panic attack. “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

 

“Love, can you look at me for a minute please?” George asked gently. 

 

Mick took a deep breath and cracked his eyes open. 

 

George was smiling softly at him, and reached out to grab his hand. “Listen to me, okay? Everyone on this plane is here to help and support you, whatever you need, alright? Please just prioritize yourself and we will take care of everything else.”

 

Mick nodded. “Lewis can call ahead,” he whispered. 

 

“Good,” George said, kissing Mick’s forehead while Lewis called over one of the crew. “Thank you, angel.”

 

Mick buried his nose in George’s neck and didn’t move until they had landed. 

 

“There’s no rush to get off,” Lewis said as the plane was pulling in towards one of the terminals. “Nico and I are going to get off ahead of you so there’s less attention on you and security will be waiting for you. Bags will be brought to your car.” 

 

“Thank you Lewis,” George said. “Really, thank you.” 

 

Mick peeked out from George’s neck. 

 

Lewis nodded. “Take good care of him, alright?” 

 

George nodded, threading his fingers through Mick’s hair. “Swear on my life.”

 

Mick shivered. That was a big promise. 

 

“Not your car?” Nico asked.

 

“That piece of shit?” George groaned. “Mate, did you not see the race?”

 

Mick laughed. 

 

“I’m glad you can laugh about that now,” Lewis said. “Cause man, they really need to fix that thing.”

 

The plane came to a slow stop. Mick kept his face against George, trying to remain as calm as possible as the crew moved around them. 

 

All too soon, Lewis and Nico were standing, about to disembark. 

 

“Feel better soon, Mick,” Nico said. “If you two need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out.” 

 

“Thank you,” George said. 

 

Mick gave Nico a sad thumbs up. 

 

“I hope we will see you in Azerbaijan, but don’t push yourself if you’re not ready,” Lewis said. “We’d rather you be safe.”

 

“We all would,” George said softly, rubbing Mick’s shoulder.

 

Nico and Lewis took that as their cue to leave, only whispering a soft “cheers, mate,” to George as they disembarked the plane. 

 

George continued rubbing Mick’s shoulder gently, occasionally reminding him to breathe, and not rushing him. 

 

Mick finally lifted his head. 

 

“You ready, angel?” George asked. 

 

Mick nodded. “If I don’t get off now I don’t think I will.”

 

“Alright then,” George said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, which he put on, and then two disposable masks. He scent marked one and handed it to Mick before putting the other one on. 

 

“Why are you doing that?” Mick asked. 

 

“Better chance of us not getting recognized if we’re both wearing masks, don’t you think?” George asked. “C’mon, get out your glasses and headphones and your hat.”

 

Mick fumbled with the zipper on his backpack. By the time he got out all of his items, George was- 

 

“Georgie?” Mick giggled. “What are you wearing?”

 

George had produced, from somewhere, a Jacksonville Jaguars baseball hat, and had put it on backwards. 

 

“It’s my disguise,” George said, standing up to put on his own backpack before offering a hand down to Mick. “Do you like it?”

 

Mick did not like it. George looked a bit like a frat boy. “Where did you even get that hat?” 

 

George shrugged. He pulled down Mick’s mask and gave him a quick kiss, before pulling the mask back up over his nose. 

 

“Let’s get this over with, alright love?” 

 

Mick nodded. 

 

“I’ll be right next to you the whole time, you let me know if you need to stop.” 

 

Mick nodded again and followed George out of the plane. 

 

It wasn’t as bad this time. He had almost been expecting it to be worse, but all the sleep had probably really helped him. And having George’s scent in the mask against his nose was wonderful as well. 

 

He stuck close behind George, flanked by the security guards that Lewis had gotten them. 

 

Despite the Tame Impala playing in his headphones though, the sounds of the airport were still getting in. The announcements were grinding a hole through his skull practically and walking past all of the food nearly made him stumble. He almost lost George’s scent and had to inhale really hard to find it on the mask again, under all the unwanted airport smells. His fingers started to go numb and all he could do was try and keep up with George and his stupid long legs they barreled towards the exit. 

 

Just follow George, just follow George, just follow-

 

Mick blinked and next thing he knew he was in a car, barely holding back tears. 

 

“See?” George said, already pulling away from the airport. He had ditched his mask somewhere and Mick could almost smell him again. “That wasn’t so bad.” 

 

Mick’s shoulders shook as he started sobbing. 

 

“Oh, angel, it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s just us now,” George said. He placed a hand on Mick’s knee. “Just let me get us out of here, okay?” 

 

Mick picked up George’s hand with shaky fingers and pressed his nose against his scent gland. By the time they arrived at George’s building, he had finally stopped crying. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Mick whispered as George pulled into what Mick assumed was his parking space. They were in a garage somewhere. 

 

“Nonsense, nothing to be sorry for,” George said. “I’m going to get out of the car and come around to you, alright?” 

 

Mick reluctantly let go of George’s hand. Before he knew it, his door was opening and George was gathering him into his arms. 

 

“I’ve got you, angel,” George whispered. “It’s alright.”

 

Mick collapsed against him, too tired to argue. 

 

“Whenever you are ready to go upstairs you let me know,” George said. 

 

Mick wasn’t ready to go upstairs but he didn’t want people to see them, no matter how good George’s building’s security was. 

 

“We can go,” he whispered. 

 

“Sure?” 

 

Mick nodded. He forced himself to get out of the car, and grabbed his backpack. 

 

“I’m going to worry about the rest of the luggage later,” George said. “Let’s just get upstairs.”

 

Mick couldn’t agree more. 

 

They had made it all the way into the elevator when Mick’s legs gave out and George picked him up with no hesitation. 

 

Before Mick knew if they were in a place that had soft lighting and everything smelled like George and he was getting gently tucked against George’s chest on a very comfortable couch and there was a blanket getting pulled around him once again he was falling asleep.

Notes:

howd u like it. was mick cringe enough? was george meow meowing? leave a comment and yell at me for making mick go to horny jail.

i pinkie promise they fuck nasty in the next chapter as an apology for the sheer amount of angst.

i promise.

thx for readingggggg <3

Chapter 13: uhh they fuck nasty gang idk what else to say

Summary:

so they fuck nasty. thats it thats the chapter.

Notes:

um. yeah. exactly what the chapter title says. there is no plot. they fuck. they have fun. george will not remain the pretty pillow princess forever they switch but for this chapter........

 

Creeping into his kitchen brandishing one of his karting trophies at seven in the morning was not how George had envisioned his day starting. Well , George thought as he slunk around the corner to his kitchen, at least I have nothing worth stealing in my kitchen . 

 

He frowned. It smelled like lemons- was Mick okay? Wait. Mick had been with him. Had the intruder hurt Mick? 

 

If they hurt Mick, he was going to fucking kill them. 

 

He inched his way to the kitchen, raising the trophy higher and higher until he took a step in, prepared to beat the shit out of this intruder who had the nerve to wake him up and stole Mick from him. 

 

“Georgie-!?” Mick turned where he stood, hands up by his head, dropping the box of tea he was holding with a start. 

 

Oh.

 

George lowered the trophy. “Hi.”

 

“Please don’t hit me I just wanted tea because I couldn’t go back to sleep but I didn’t know how to use your kettle-” which was fair because George liked to use his stovetop kettle when he had guests in order to establish dominance (and prevent Lando from drinking all his tea)- “but I didn’t mean to wake you up obviously, and I really didn’t want to wake you up to ask because you were so tired and you were so cute when you were asleep, and-”

 

George set the trophy down on the counter and shuffled forward into Mick’s arms. He smelled strongly of lemonade, and all he really wanted to do was to kiss him. 

 

So he did. 

 

Mick’s lips were as soft as he remembered, and as George felt Mick’s hands- his big, soft hands- in his hair again, George couldn’t stop himself from tearing up. He sniffled a bit pathetically, but didn’t pull away. 

 

“Are you okay?” Mick asked, voice low. “You’re crying.”

 

Mick’s left hand went from his hair to George’s cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear or two. 

 

George nodded. 

 

Mick let out a sigh of relief. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” George replied, sniffling again. “I’m sorry I’m-” he gestured at his face. “I don’t know why, I just-”

 

Mick chuckled, continuing to swipe away his tears. “It’s okay, Georgie. It’s you. I can’t say I’m too surprised.”

 

“Can you kiss me again?” 

 

MIck didn’t respond and just pulled George into another kiss.

 

George yawned, breaking the kiss. He slumped back down into Mick’s arms, shoving his face back down into Mick’s neck. He inhaled, yawned again and let himself drift off, more than happy to just stay like that forever. 

 

“Georgie?”

 

“Hmm?” George blinked. He was laying on top of Mick on his couch, face buried in the crook of his neck. “How’d I get here?”

 

“You fell asleep, so I carried you.”

 

“You carried me?”

 

“Yeah, Georgie, you aren’t that heavy.” 

 

“Oh.” George frowned. “Wait.”

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“You shouldn’t be picking me up, you’re still too sick.” 

 

“Georgie, princess-” Mick giggled, “I feel much better. I just need to have some caffeine before I get a- how do you people put it- deathly? Headache.”

 

“Banging?”

 

“No.”

 

George thought for a moment. “Cracking?”

 

“No.” Mick sighed. “Oh! Killer. I need caffeine before I get a killer headache.” 

 

“Oh. And-” George paused, trying to choose his words wisely. “And don’t mock me. Please.”

 

“Mock?” 

 

“Don’t act so confused about it, you were laughing and please, I don’t want to be laughed at.”

 

“Georgie, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I’m not pretty. I know I’m not pretty and I know I’m not easy to deal with already, so don’t-” George pushed himself off Mick. “So don’t tease.”

 

“Who told you that?” Mick’s voice was quiet, but filled with anger . His scent soured, and George reeled backwards. If he had thought that Mick smelled angry in the garage during testing, nothing could have possibly prepared him for this. “Georgie, who told you that.”

 

“I- erm- uh-”

 

“Who told you that.” 

 

To George’s horror, his eyes started to well up again. For the first time, George wanted to stop smelling him. “Mick-”

 

“Who, George.” 

 

“I-” George choked, pulling away from Mick. “I don’t- Mick, you’re-”

 

“What?” Mick’s eyes narrowed. “Whoever told you that is wrong.” 

 

“Mick, you’re-” Scaring me . George wanted to say, but he didn’t want to anger Mick anymore. 

 

“I’m what-?”

 

George took another step back. His back hit the wall. 

 

Mick was still standing in front of him, blue eyes icy and almost unseeing. His scent was so sour it was enough to make George’s eyes water. 

 

Mick stepped closer to George. 

 

George threw his hands up over his face. 

 

Logically he knew that Mick wouldn’t hurt him. But George had never thought that Mick was even capable of being angry, much less being angry at him, and he was so tired and Mick was so mad .

 

“George.” His tone left no room for argument. 

 

“You’rescaringme,” George squeaked out. “Please….stop.” 

 

The sourness seeped out of Mick’s smell. “Georgie? I’m- I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I lost it on you, you didn’t deserve that-” Mick said something in German sounding more upset as he knelt in front of George. “I’m sorry Georgie, I know you’re really sleepy and I’m sorry that I yelled at you and everything, and I won’t hurt you okay? I’m not mad at you I was just mad that someone would have told you you were too hard to deal with because you’re really not, you’re perfect for me and it just made me so upset and I don’t know how to properly apologize, not when I’ve been so horrible and I can leave if you want me to, but I love you and I’m sorry, and-”

 

George pulled Mick into a hug. “It’s okay.”

 

“No, it’s not. I scared you and that’s not right. That’s so wrong for me to do to someone, and for sure I did not know it would scare you because I did not realize I was so, so angry but it was not right and I am so sorry. I think you are wonderful and never too much work and you are very pretty.”

 

“I think…” George wiped his eyes. Mick’s scent was slowly going back to normal, and it plus the knowledge that Mick was not mad at him, was helping him calm down. George tried to crack a smile. “I think that you need some coffee, okay?”

 

“I do not need for anything.” Mick mumbled. “I can go. I can get to home fast if you need me to go.”

 

“Mick, angel. It’s okay. I was just very tired and you were angry and uncaffeinated. It’s going to be okay.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Yes, Mick. I promise. Just please, never, ever, do that again. Blimey- I just- your scent and everything. I can see why people thought-” George thought for a second. It was probably not a good time to mention Mick’s dad. “Nevermind. I just… Please don’t do that ever again. Unless I, like, really deserve it.”

 

“You would never,” Mick said. 

 

George was really not in the mood to argue any more so he just kissed Mick on the cheek. “You wanted caffeine?”

 

Mick nodded. “My head hurts. But I can figure something out, you don’t-”

 

Mick had a headache . 

 

George couldn’t help but remember the past few days. “Are you feeling okay though? It’s not the blockers, right? Are you going to get sick?”

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “I feel okay, it’s just the lack of coffee or tea. Please, Georgie, I’ll pick you up and move you to the kitchen if it’s what it takes.”

 

“But you-”

 

Mick groaned, pulled George close to him, grabbed onto George’s thighs and-

 

Woah.

 

George had not realized that Mick, from kneeling, could just pick George up like he was nothing. He wrapped his legs around Mick’s waist, hoping that it would help Mick a bit, though he had a very sneaking suspicion that Mick did not need his help at all.  And then Mick was moving him and suddenly holding onto George with one hand, somehow balancing him on his hip- a bit like he was a laundry basket, if he was being honest- and George knew there was no way Mick couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing to him. 

 

Not when George was still practically straddling him. 

 

“This is okay?” Mick asked. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Good. Let me know where to grab everything, okay?”

 

“Okay. Well, first you’re going to want to grab the electric kettle from the cabinet above the sink-”

 

“Wait.” Mick cut in. “You had an electric kettle this whole time?”

 

“I’m not from the stone age, Mick. Of course I have a proper electric kettle, I just can’t have anyone know it or they’ll start drinking all my tea.” 

 

“So you don’t use that one?” Mick pointed to the stove-top kettle. “Really?”

 

“No, I do. When I have guests who don't know I have a proper kettle. Again, if you had Lando drinking all your English Breakfast, you too would get a decoy.”

 

“So you trust me.”

 

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“Oh. I trust you too.”

 

George kissed Mick on the cheek, grinning at the pink tinge coming over Mick’s face. “You’re very cute.”

 

“I just yelled at you,” Mick mumbled. “That’s not very cute.”

 

“Yeah, but you were upset on my behalf so how mad can I be?” And now that George had said it aloud…

 

Wow.

 

Mick really was that defensive at that idea of someone saying that George was A) not pretty, and B) too much work.

 

Wowza .

 

That was. a lot to think about, especially when George wasn’t exactly in agreement with Mick about either of those things.

 

“Did you hear what I said Georgie?” 

 

George blinked. “Hm?”

 

“I need to put you on the counter if I want to reach your kettle.”

 

George started to shift in Mick’s arms, trying to get to the floor.

 

“No no,” Mick said. 

 

And then he was somehow lifting George up higher and setting him on the counter.

 

Mick was wearing a sweatshirt (one of his sweatshirts, he realized) which was a proper shame because George would have loved to see how Mick’s arm muscles moved under his skin, contracting and flexing and-

 

“Georgie”

 

“Hm?”

 

Mick was smirking at him. Hands on hips too, the little bastard. 

 

“What cabinet did you say the kettle was in?”

 

“Above the sink.”

 

Mick frowned as he looked up at the cabinet, way above his head. 

 

“I can get it for you if you-“

 

“No, no!” Mick waved him off. “You keep sitting there looking pretty, I can get the kettle.”

 

George opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly Mick was reaching up and goddamn .

 

His sweatshirt rose as he tried to grab the kettle, exposing the slightest sliver of his stomach. Mick was strong, he knew that, and it wasn’t even like he hadn’t seen Mick shirtless before, but to see him so tantalizingly close in one of George’s sweatshirts, smelling like the sweetest lemonade…

 

George swallowed. Mick was fucking built. No wonder he could lift George without any effort.

 

He really wanted to just grab Mick’s waist, no shirt or sweatshirt in the way, and kiss him until Mick slammed him against the wall and did whatever he wanted with him.

 

Mick cleared his throat.

 

“Huh?” George snapped his head up to look at Mick. “Yeah?”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

George felt his face heat up. “Yeah.”

 

“What were you looking at then?”

 

“Nothing, only my very very pretty angel.”

 

George took delight in the way Mick’s face lit up pink. “Shut up.”

 

“Make me then?”

 

Mick’s smile turned a bit mischievous, something that only slightly terrified George. “I’ll make you if you agree with me that you’re pretty.”

 

“What?!” George exclaimed, not quite believing that Mick somehow wasn’t over his earlier comment. “Angel-”

 

“I’ll kiss you only if you agree with me.”

 

“Fine,” George muttered, “you’re right.”

 

Mick looked unimpressed. “I’ll deal with you in a second. Which tea am I allowed?”

 

It finally occurred to George that while he had been distracted by Mick’s abs and their conversation, Mick had been boiling the water for his tea.

 

“Anything you want. I like the English Breakfast the best, but whatever you want is okay.”

 

“Thank you, Georgie.”

 

“It’s in the cabinet next to the stove.”

 

Mick opened the cabinet and George watched his mouth drop open in shock. 

 

“Georgie, why do you have so much tea?”

 

George shrugged. “I’m British, Mick.”

 

Mick sighed, grabbed the English Breakfast and began to make his tea. “While this is brewing, can you come to the bathroom with me?”

 

“Um,” George was a bit worried about how threatening Mick sounded, “Okay?”

 

“Good. Also, when I woke up I showered. Was that okay?”

 

“Yeah, of course. You are more than welcome to any of my products as well.”

 

“I used my own, but thank you. I did not recognize your brand of soap so I didn’t want to use too much or something.”

 

Right.

 

Mick had been raised a millionaire. Why would he know what Dove men’s shampoo was?

 

“It’s just Dove. It won’t hurt you.”

 

Mick laughed. “Okay, Georgie. You’re welcome to my things as well.”

 

They stepped into the bathroom.

 

“Right. So why am I here?”

 

Mick smiled. “Because you are going to tell me you agree with me.”

 

“What.”

 

On what? George agreed with Mick on most things that he knew about- excluding Mick’s friendship with Lance fucking Stroll.

 

“That you’re very pretty.”

 

“Mick.”

 

“I won’t hear any arguments.”

 

“Fine. I’m pretty.” George sighed. “Good?”

 

It was, apparently, not good enough for Mick who began passionately rambling about how beautiful he found George. It was a lot. And maybe another time, George would’ve cried and tried to argue with him, but now?

 

But now, when Mick was looking directly at him and telling him just how gorgeous he supposedly thought he was, face red and eyes focused square on George’s, all George could think about was that he needed Mick to fuck him. And his dick agreed with him, based on the fact that he was very hard in his sweatpants and was about five more sentences away from doing something drastic.

 

“Mick,” George interrupted him, “I get your point, but if you don’t stop talking you are going to cause a problem.”

 

“What? Do you not believe-”

 

“I believe you,” and strangely enough, George almost did agree with him , “but I’m a bit… wound up.”

 

“Wound up?” Mick asked, smirking a bit. “In what way?”

 

Well.

 

Mick was clearly into it so… he reached for Mick’s hand, and slowly moved it onto his dick.

 

Mick grinned. “Oh. I see.” 

 

And then he fucking pressed down , and George was suddenly seeing stars.

 

“ Fuck .” 

 

“Yeah, let’s do that.” 

 

“Yeah.” George echoed. “I’ll shower and prepare myself, just give me a little bit.”

 

“Prepare yourself?” Mick’s eyes were wide.

 

“You know, like clean myself up? So you can fuck me?” George asked, a bit confused. Did Mick not know that you were supposed to do that?

 

“You want me to top?”

 

“Um,” George bit his lip anxiously. “Is that a problem? Do you only bottom?”

 

“No, no- I was just surprised that you- well, nevermind. I don’t have a preference on either, really, though if it came down to it I prefer to bottom a bit more?”

 

“I mean, you don’t have to today-”

 

“No!” Mick yelled, face bright red. “No, no, please. I want to fuck you. Please.”

 

“Oh.” George grinned and pulled Mick into a soft kiss. “And Mick, angel, I also like to switch.”

 

“Thank God. Um. I mean it would be okay if not, but also I’m very relieved. Anyway, before you shower, is there anything there is I need to know?”

 

“Um,” George thought for a moment. “I like your hands?”

 

“Yes, well that is obvious. Anything else? Anything you do not like?”

 

“Don’t be mean to me?” George knew some people were into that. “And please don’t hurt me?”

 

“Have people-?” 

 

“No! But just in case. And hurt as in, make sure preparation is all done right and don’t hit me or something. I swear I like it rough. Like you don’t need to worry about breaking me or anything, just make sure I’m prepared properly for that.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“What about you, angel?”

 

“Ah, well, for on top? Please don’t call me daddy. Or make me call you daddy. Nothing like that, please. And, God, I can’t believe I’m-” Mick pulled away from George and muttered something so quietly George couldn’t hear.

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t mention my dad. Please.”

 

Fucking what now?

 

“I wasn’t…going to? Why would I…? During…?”

 

“I don’t know. Just please don’t.”

 

“Okay. Will do. Wasn’t going to anyway, but okay. No daddy and no dad. Done. Easy peasy. Anything else?”

 

“Uh…” Mick trailed off. “Can I pull your hair?”

 

“Said I liked it a bit rough, didn’t I?”

 

“Alright.” Mick blushed. “ Alright .”

 

“Anything else?” 

 

“Um. Can I bite you? And can you bite me- on my- um-”

 

“I remember last time, Mick. And is there anything else I need to know?”

 

“No, I don’t think so. You?”

 

“No, nothing comes to-” Oh. There was that one thing. “Actually if I, blimey this is embarrassing, if I cry it’s not because I’m having a bad time.”

 

“Eh?”

 

“Jesus Christ, okay, if I cry don’t stop. Unless I tell you to. It just happens sometimes.”

 

“Oh. Okay!” Mick nodded. “That’s okay. Me too.”

 

“Okay. Also, it’s…been awhile so this might not be-”

 

“George, all I want is you okay? It doesn’t matter if you’re rusty or not, I just want you. So take your shower so I can drink my tea.”

 

George could do that.

 

So he did, and thirty minutes later he was stepping into his room with a towel slung around his waist.

 

“Hey Mick.”

 

Mick was scrolling through his phone, tea cup in hand. “Hey.”

 

“Mick.”

 

Mick looked up at him and dropped both his jaw and his phone. George was glad that he somehow managed to avoid spilling his tea, though Mick did shakily slam it down on the nightstand next to him before practically leaping out of bed, tearing his clothes off, and pulling him into a rough kiss. He looked smelled so strongly that George could practically taste the lemonade.

 

“Jesus, Georgie-” Mick gasped, pulling away for a moment only to pick him up and drop him back down on his bed. “You are so pretty.”

 

“Mick-” George gasped, as Mick straddled him and kissed him hard. “Please, Mick-”

 

“I know, I know, I get to that in a minute, just let me-”

 

Wait .

 

“You shouldn’t be doing this.”

 

“What?!” Mick exclaimed, sitting back on George’s thighs. “What do you mean?”

 

“You’ve been sick, you shouldn’t be doing all the work, you could-”

 

“It is all fine, George. I want this.”

 

But it really, really wasn’t.

 

“No, Mick there’s gotta be a way where you won’t overexert yourself, c’mon.”

 

Mick swore in what George assumed was German. He frowned. Maybe French? He wasn’t sure, but all he knew was Mick wasn’t moving.

 

“Mick, please…” George whined, a bit more dramatically than was probably strictly necessary. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

“Fine.” 

 

And then Mick was rolling onto his back and George was on top and suddenly George became very aware of how hard Mick was. “You’re really lovely,” George mumbled, ogling shamelessly down at Mick’s body.

 

“So are you.” 

 

George felt his face heat up. “Right, so how’s this going to work?”

 

“You can ride me?”

 

Ah.

 

Riding.

 

The last person George had done this with had been Alex, nearly four years ago. That had also been the last time he had bottomed for someone. He was really  not sure how this was going to go, but Mick said he didn’t care, so really how hard could it be?

 

“Okay.” George nodded in agreement. “I can do that.”

 

“Good. How much did you do to yourself?”

 

“Huh?” 

 

“Like, when you- in the shower?”

 

Oh. That made sense for Mick to ask, though looking back down at Mick’s dick, George wasn’t too worried. He wasn’t big like an Alpha was, so he knew the chances of it hurting were far lower and he assumed he’d be fine. Besides, this was Mick. Mick wouldn’t hurt him. 

 

“I got to three fingers.” 

 

“Three of yours, or three of mine?”

 

“Um. Three of mine? I wouldn’t exactly be able to measure your fingers with mine when I was-”

 

“We can compare.” And then Mick was holding out three of his fingers next to three of George’s fingers and Jesus Christ , Mick’s hands were fucking huge. “I don’t think this is a fair comparison is it?”

 

Mick definitely was not using the phrase ‘fair comparison’ correctly. George didn’t correct him. He didn’t want Mick to feel embarrassed, or anything that would make him smell less like sweet lemonade.

 

He shook his head.

 

“Do you have the lube?”

 

George internally berated himself. He had forgotten it in the bathroom.

 

“Ah. I mean I should be okay?”

 

“Georgie.”

 

George rolled his eyes, stumbled out of bed and grabbed the lube, trying to be as fast as possible. When he had returned, Mick had spread his towel on the bed (which was probably a good idea in protecting George’s blankets), and was laying absentmindedly on the bed while slowly stroking himself. George tried not to stare.

 

“I have lube.” 

 

“Good. Go to me.”

 

George did as he was told, and clambered back onto Mick’s lap.

 

“Okay, Georgie, this is going to be a bit uncomfortable for our positioning, but I will try not to hurt you.” Then suddenly, Mick was dragging him up onto his chest, and goddamn Mick was strong and George kind of really wanted to just grind onto his chest and make himself cum onto Mick’s face and just let himself-

 

“ Fuck, Mick -” George moaned as Mick slowly pressed a finger into him.

 

“Yes, that’s what we’re doing. Excel-” Mick swallowed, ears bright red, “Excellent observation.”

 

“Yeah, well- fuck- ”

 

Mick was definitely timing this on purpose just to mess with him. It took every ounce of his Formula 1 training not to just flop over onto Mick and make him do all the work.

 

“Good? Doesn’t hurt?”

 

George shakily took in a deep breath as Mick added yet another finger. It was good. It was really, really good but it was also a lot and Mick’s fingers were fucking massive, and also Mick’s accent was getting ridiculously strong in ways he had never thought possible, and fuck - “I need a second.”

 

Mick stopped moving. “It hurts?”

 

“Just a lot. Don’t take them out, it’s just so much, and I-” George covered his burning face with his hand. “It’s just so much.”

 

“Do you need to stop?”

 

“Oh my word, did you not hear what I just said? I just need a minute.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize Mick, I’m good now, by the way, so you can-”

 

And Christ above, if this was what Mick’s fingers felt like, how the hell was he going to survive his dick?

 

“Still okay?” Mick asked again, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Mick, I swear it’s fine, please, more-”

 

And then Mick was pulling out of him with a rather horrific wet sounding noise from the lube and wiping his hand off on the towel. “I think you are good to go.”

 

“Thank God.”

 

“Shush. Now, ah, do you have a condom?”

 

What.

 

“Why?”

 

“I know it’s been awhile for you, and technically I should be clean, and I guess we’ve messed around before, but shouldn’t we…?”

 

Oh.

 

“I mean sure, if you want. I don’t mind you fucking me raw, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

“No-” Mick exhaled, voice cracking. “No that’s not- Oh God , Georgie you can’t just say that.”

 

“Too bad. Anyway, I can look for a condom but I don’t know if I have any.”

 

“Well, try your best and if not, it’s not like you can get pregnant, right?”

 

George bit back a response asking if Mick was so sure he couldn't after the whole Nico and Lewis thing. It would probably be very inappropriate to bring up during sex. Instead, he just snorted and said: “Do I look like the next Mother Mary to you?”

 

Mick threw his head back and laughed. He had a ridiculously nice laugh. George cupped his cheek and pulled him into a soft kiss.

 

“I’m going to find us the condoms, just sit tight and entertain yourself, okay?”

 

After about two horrible minutes of scrambling through a package of very expired condoms, George finally found one that was only almost expired. He tossed it to Mick.

 

Mick stared down at the packet in disgust. “It says this is ribbed.”

 

“Yeah? Well it’s all I bloody have so…”

 

“This is the same type Lance uses too. Ugh.” 

 

Oh.

 

That was…horrible.

 

“Mick, can you please not mention Lance Stroll while my cock is out?”

 

Mick at least had the dignity to look ashamed, though he still was scrutinizing the condom wrapper in horror.

 

“So are you going to put it on and fuck me or not?”

 

“I am! It’s just that this is ribbed .”

 

“Mick, angel, do you want safe sex or no sex?”

 

Mick ripped open the condom wrapper and after some finangling rolled it on.

 

And as Mick grasped himself to hold his dick steady, and as George sunk back onto him, that was just about when George realized that he had no fucking clue what he was doing.

 

It felt good, yes but then suddenly-

 

“Ow-!” George yelped, “Oh my God, ow-”

 

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay-” Mick held George by his hips and lifted him off his dick. “It’s okay, Georgie. Just a bad angle. Do you want to stop or do you want to try again, or do you want a different position?”

 

“We can try again, that just really hurt.”

 

“Okay. I’ll help you, alright?”

 

With Mick’s help, George finally was able to find the right angle, and fuck , it felt good. George was cut out of his thoughts (of which there weren’t many), by Mick moaning loudly as George shifted just slightly on his lap. “Can I move?”

 

“ Please .”

 

George was able to move for only about two minutes before there was a sudden sharp pain in his left knee. He tried to keep going but-

 

“Fuck-” George cursed, annoyed that his stupid body was once again preventing him from doing things. “ Fuck- ”

 

“Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I can go, I’m so sorry-”

 

“Don’t leave.” George gasped, trying not to slump over onto Mick. “My knee fucking gave out. I can’t go much longer like this.”

 

“That’s okay. I can help.”

 

“But-”

 

“Georgie, if you don’t move I might scream. It will benefit both of us if you’d just let me help.”

 

Mick, as usual, brought up good points. 

 

“Kiss me?” George asked, “while you-”

 

And then Mick was pulling George down, his hands coiled in his hair and he was thrusting deep in him and-

 

George wasn't quite sure what noise he made, but he was sure it was horrible and loud. Even worse though, was the fact that he couldn’t stop himself from moaning that loudly, especially when Mick started leaving hickies on his neck and shoulders, just barely missing his scent glands. 

 

“God- Mick, you feel so good in me- ohh -” George whined as Mick grabbed his hips and held him down on his dick as he continued to move. 

 

“I can’t stay in this position much longer,” Mick grunted, “Trust me, okay?”

 

And before George could respond, Mick was flipping him over onto his back and fucking into him while George lay limply and just took it. And then to make matters even more insane, Mick was swiping his thumb over George’s mouth and truly, George had no choice but to open his mouth, stare up at Mick with tears in his eyes, and suck .

 

Mick moaned. Loudly.

 

It felt so goddamn good to know that Mick was enjoying this just as much as he was.

 

“Mick-” George gasped, knowing he couldn’t hold off on cumming for much longer. “Oh, fuck , Mick, I’m going to- please, can I-”

 

Mick didn’t respond:

 

“Mick please-!” 

 

“Yea-” Mick moaned, “Cum for me, Georgie, you’re so pretty. God , princess, you’re so-”

 

Then Mick was pulling his hair and kissing him hard and George saw fucking stars as he came on both his own and Mick’s stomaches. Tears burned as they dripped down his cheeks. 

 

“I can stop-”

 

“No, no, please- fuck me, please Mick, don’t stop just-”

 

Mick didn’t stop. His blonde hair was darkened with sweat, his muscles moved effortlessly under his skin and George watched through watery eyes the look of concentration that pinched his eyebrows together as he fucked George harder and harder. George could hardly feel his lower body, but he could feel where Mick was firmly gripping his hips, pushing himself deeper and deeper. George had no energy to do anything but lay there and take it, not that he wanted to do anything else anyway. Each thrust sent another tear tumbling down his cheek. He was a right mess, but Mick wanted him this way. 

 

Mick wanted him this way. Wanted him so much he was fucking him senseless. Wanted him so much that the room smelled like the sweetest lemonade and like sugary tea.

 

Oh.

 

It was himself that he was smelling as well. 

 

George put his hands on top of Mick’s, silently pulling him closer, inviting him to go harder and harder and harder until George was moaning again. Mick was yanking him into a rough kiss, as he did that the thrusts got faster and shorter and harder and stars swam across George’s vision as Mick cried out, desperate and wanting, and finally collapsed on top of him.

 

“Mick?”

 

Mick mumbled something. George had no idea what he said.

 

“Mick?”

 

Mick just pressed his face into George’s neck. It was somehow adorable, despite the fact that not even ten seconds ago Mick had been absolutely railing him.

 

“Mick, are you okay?” George’s voice was shaky from crying, but he needed to know if Mick was alright. He sniffled. “Mick?”

 

“I’m okay.” Mick mumbled into his neck. “That was so good.”

 

And because they apparently couldn’t have one nice moment together, George’s phone started ringing. 

 

“You didn’t turn off your ringer?” Mick groaned, “Really?”

 

“It was off!” George paused. Wait. “Unless it’s Toto.”

 

“It’s not going to be Toto.”

 

The phone stopped ringing. 

 

“See, you just forgot to silence it. I’m sure it’s nothing important.”

 

It started ringing again. 

 

George wrapped his arms around Mick, trying to pull him closer and closer- though it did feel a bit weird because Mick had still not pulled out of him yet- but he didn’t really care. It didn’t feel nice, but it didn’t feel bad, and George was not sure he or Mick could manage to deal with that in their current flopped states. 

 

The phone stopped ringing. 

 

“You’re so pretty-” Mick murmured into George’s neck. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too- oh Goddammit !” 

 

The phone was fucking ringing again. 

 

Mick pushed himself up, grabbed the phone and answered it without looking. “Hello, this is George’s phone.”

 

Mick’s face grew pale and he quickly pulled away from George. George whined, suddenly feeling very cold without Mick between his thighs, and reached out to Mick hoping he’d come back. But Mick was speaking again, and George really didn’t want to interrupt. 

 

“Hi, yes, hi Toto. It’s Mick. Um, Schumacher. Yeah, Mick Schumacher. Your reserve driver? At Mercedes?”

 

Oh, God . 

 

Of course it was fucking Toto. 

 

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Great. Obviously, I’m better since I am on the phone.” Mick laughed. It was clearly fake.

 

George pulled Mick into his lap, trying to ignore how sticky they both were.  

 

“Yes, so I am for sure okay now. I-I just had a bad panic attack- which won’t compromise my ability to work I promise it doesn’t happen that much- but then I took incorrect blockers which did not do me well, and I am still very very sorry that I left early and everything.”

 

Mick was silent for a moment. George frowned. He was getting sore, and he felt gross and sticky, and he really didn’t like being ignored like this. It sort of made him want to cry. He nuzzled his face against Mick’s arm, hoping to get at least a bit of attention. 

 

Maybe then he’d feel less dirty and used.

 

But Mick paid him no attention, and so George pulled away from him and curled up against his pillow, wishing he could feel clean again. But his legs were shaking and his knees were hurting again and despite Mick being right next to him he just felt alone.

 

“Yes, George explained the rules to me. He was very thorough. Thank you.”

 

George buried his face in the pillow. 

 

Then: “Yes, yeah, it was unpleasant. I think I’m almost back to normal now? George was taking care of me and Lewis and Nico……Yes. Yes they think something else happened…No, no I don’t need a plane. I’m back in Monaco. With George. We flew with Lewis and Nico, uh? Yesterday? Day before? I’m not sure…..” 

 

Mick lanced his fingers together with George’s. George sighed in relief. It wasn’t a lot of attention but it was at least something.

 

“…..I should be good for Azerbaijan. Yeah. But I will let you know. Thanks Toto.”

 

Wait. 

 

George remembered something. 

 

Fuck . 

 

He grabbed his phone back from Mick. 

 

“Toto-” he began, hoping Toto couldn’t tell he was on the verge of tears. “Toto, it’s George.”

 

“Yes, I assumed so. Is everything alright?” Toto, to his credit, did sound mildly worried, but mostly amused. 

 

“Yes, it’s fine. Now, um, according to-” George wracked his brain trying to think of the exact section he needed to cite, “-section eight, under the third bullet point of the Mercedes code of ethics, it states that I must disclose any personal relationships that may affect the workplace dynamic. Because of this, I must tell you that I am currently in a relationship with Mick. It is serious.”

 

Mick’s ears were bright red as he buried his face in his hands. 

 

Toto, however, was silent for a terrifying moment. “Finally. Well, my congratulations to you both, though I must say I wish you had waited to tell me a race later because now I owe Susie 300 Euros. But, regardless, I am happy for you both and please extend my congratulations to Mick as well. Though,” Toto paused, “next time do not pick up the phone when you are…busy. Be safe and I will see you at the next race.”

 

Toto hung up before George could respond.

 

“Georgie, why did you say that?” 

 

“Should I not have?”

 

Mick sighed. “I mean it’s fine. Actually, I’m pretty sure he already knew. So, don’t worry.”

 

George curled in on himself, away from Mick. He should have asked first. Now Mick was mad at him and was probably going to leave him alone. 

 

“Hey,” Mick placed a gentle hand on George’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for answering, I know that that probably wasn’t the best thing to do right after…that, obviously. I’m sorry.” 

 

“It’s okay,” George tried not to sniff. He knew his scent was probably souring. 

 

“No, no,” Mick sighed. “You’re clearly not okay and it was wrong of me to answer the phone. Just…how can I fix this for you? Please?” 

 

George swallowed. “I’m, uh, sticky?” 

 

“Right, right, yes.” 

 

The bed shifted and George felt Mick move away from him. Jeepers, now Mick thought that he was too gross to be around. 

 

But then the bed shifted again and George could feel Mick coming back towards him. 

 

“Here, I have a towel, do you want to do it or do you want me to-”

 

“You,” George whispered. “I mean. If it’s not too much trouble to-”

 

“Hey, Georgie,” Mick’s voice was soft. “Can you look at me?” 

 

George opened his eyes. 

 

Mick was hovering above him, hair still a delightful mess and blue eyes soft with concern. 

 

“That’s it, princess,” Mick bit his lip trying not to laugh. “You’re never too much trouble. Not to me. And if you want me to take care of you, I will do that gladly.” 

 

Tension seeped out of George’s shoulders. His eyes suddenly felt very heavy. 

 

“Would you like that?” 

 

George nodded. 

 

Mick’s hands were gliding over him, gently wiping him off and carefully tugging some clothes onto him before gathering him in his arms and tucking a blanket around the two of them. 

 

“Is this okay?” Mick asked. 

 

“Yes,” George whispered. He nuzzled his face into Mick’s neck and breathed in deeply as Mick pressed a few soft kisses against his hair. “Thank you.” 

 

“Of course, Georgie. I love you.”

 

George opened his mouth to respond when Mick suddenly moved, and-

 

“ Oh -” Mick shuddered, “Georgie-”

 

“What happened?” 

 

“Your teeth, on my-” Mick took a breath. “ Jesus . Do that again. If you want.”

 

Ah. 

 

So Mick liked that.

 

George cautiously nibbled Mick’s scent gland again. Mick shuddered, gasping as George slid his thigh between his legs.

 

George grinned. Mick was hard. Again.

 

“Can I bite you again?”

 

“Yeah- yeah - harder if you want as well.” 

 

George could do harder. He carefully combed his fingers through Mick’s hair before he grasped a fistfull of it. He pulled Mick’s head to the side, giving him better access to his scent gland, moved Mick’s shirt out of the way, and bit down as hard as he could without drawing blood.

 

Mick threw his head back, not deterred in the slightest by George’s grip on his hair, and moaned George’s name loudly. His hips thrust forward, once, twice, then Mick was somehow moaning louder as he came.

 

It was probably the single most hot thing George had ever seen.

 

And for the second time that day, Mick flopped bonelessly against his chest. George pulled Mick into his chest. 

 

“Was that good?” George murmured. 

 

Mick didn’t respond. 

 

“Mick? Angel?”

 

Oh. 

 

Mick had fallen asleep. 

 

George was more than happy to let him, and after a short while, he found himself drifting off as well. 

 

Unfortunately he did not wake up to little kisses on his cheek or Mick’s sweet smell or even a hand in his hair. 

 

He woke up to a phone ringing. 

 

“Is that Toto again?” Mick asked sleepily.

 

“Better not be,” George groaned. “I’ve already made enough of a fool of myself to him today.” 

 

He reached blindly towards the bedside table and grabbed the ringing phone. 

 

“Who is it?” 

 

“Nico,” George sighed. “On your phone too.” 

 

“Fucking hell,” Mick sighed. “Just answer it or he’s going to keep calling.” 

 

“What should I tell him?” 

 

Mick buried his head further in George’s neck. “Whatever you want.” 

 

A devilish smile stretched across George’s face. “I’m going to tell him we’re fucking.” 

 

“What? George! No! You can’t-”

 

“Hello,” George said, answering the phone.

 

“You’re not Mick,” Nico said, sounding very unimpressed. 

 

“No, I am not.” Under the blanket Mick kicked him in the shin, George kicked him back. “What’s crackin? We’re a little busy here.”

 

“Well we hadn’t heard from you and I just wanted to see how Mick was doing after the flight and make sure you both got back okay.” 

 

“We did.” That was actually a decent reason to want to check on them and George felt a little bit bad about what he was going to do but also Nico and Lewis kind of deserved it. “We’re both fine, though we are a little busy right now.” 

 

“Oh, is Mick still not feeling well?” Nico asked. George could hear not only the worry in his tone but also the sounds of Lewis speaking in the background. 

 

“No, he’s fine, we were just-” 

 

Mick let out a quiet noise. It was probably of annoyance but his mouth was right near the phone and-

 

“What was that?” Nico asked. 

 

“Nothing,” George said quickly. “We were just-”

 

“Are you two fucking ?” Nico spat. “In his state ? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to put anything, and I mean anything, inside him in his condition?” 

 

George tried not to think about that. 

 

Mick made another noise, this time in protest. 

 

“George. Please tell me you are not fucking him right now, it’s incredibly unsafe.”

 

George rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft, he’s fucking me.” 

 

And then he hung up. 

 

Mick sighed. “You-” he poked George on the nose “-are horrid. Also, can Omegas even top?”

 

“Yes.” George had heard way too much about Charles’ sex life to not know that. “And now he won’t lecture me about unsafe sex. But speaking of that, I quite literally will jump out of the window if I don’t get in the shower soon. I feel disgusting.”

 

“You’re not-”

 

“Mick, angel, look at me.” 

 

“Ah.” Mick grimaced, staring at George’s body. “Yeah. Let’s shower.”

 

Getting into the shower on still shaky legs was about as pleasant an experience as George had expected, though, if he was being honest, it felt kind of nice to be the one being helped. Not that George minded helping Mick- not in the slightest- it was just that this was…

 

Well.

 

Maybe helped wasn’t the right word for it.

 

Mick just helping him to the shower would definitely not need to include his hand on George’s ass. And Mick just helping him wash definitely did not need to include Mick’s teeth on his neck, and his hand on George’s dick either. But George wasn’t complaining, and soon enough they found themselves back under the blankets in George’s bed, huddled together for warmth.

 

“I’m hungry.” George said, in part because he was, and in part so Mick wouldn’t accuse him of not eating again. “Do you want to go out?”

 

Mick groaned. “Georgie, I think I’d die if I went outside.”

 

Oh.

 

Right. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, just… ugh. It’s nothing you did, it’s just that I’m still not feeling 100 percent better yet, and I really don’t want to make a fool of myself outside if it's too much.”

 

“Okay, Mick. Why don’t we order something? We can even get someone to grab food for us, that way the scents aren’t all ruined by someone we don’t know.”

 

Mick nodded. “Okay. Who should we ask?”

 

There was exactly one person (or two, technically) that George felt more than okay with sending on side quests around Monaco: Nico and Lewis. They got them into this situation, so George didn’t feel too guilty about calling Nico back and asking him to get them breakfast, because somehow it was still before noon. After another hour-long nap, George woke up to banging on the door. 

 

“Mick,” he grumbled, shaking Mick awake. “They’re here.”

 

They were indeed there, and after the most awkward stare-down of George’s life from Nico, he and Mick were finally able to sit down at the dining room table and eat. 

 

“You know,” Mick began, voice muffled as he spoke through a bite of his crepes, “I like this.”

 

“This?”

 

“Being with you. Eating food-” and if that wasn’t pointed, George didn’t know what was “-cuddling, fucking, et cetera. It’s nice. I didn’t think I’d get something like this.”

 

George took a deep breath through his nose, taking delight in just how sweet Mick smelled, especially with their crepes. “Yeah. I really never thought I’d get something like this too.”

 

“But here we are.” Mick reached a hand across the table, and George gently laced their fingers together. 

 

George smiled. “But here we are.”

Notes:

yeah so thats that! hope yall enjoyed. tell me in the comments! sorry it took a hot minute for me to update, this chapter ended up fighting me tooth and nail, but it is what it is. let me know if you want more smut, and toodles!

Chapter 14: mick gets railed in this one. please enjoy <3

Summary:

gr podium in spain means they fuck silly style...and other things happen too!

Notes:

uhhhhhhhhhhh enjoy mick getting eaten out ig. mick if ur reading this im so sorry but also why are u reading this.

have fun!

In the time between then and now- three months of routine flights across the world, constant switches, mixed race results, and race cancellations- Mick could confidently say that he was definitely over being a reserve driver. It sucked to cart back and forth between tracks that he wouldn’t get to drive on, spend hours in the sim only to watch the car plateau in 5th or 6th position, and watch race after race of Max winning. 

 

Driving his dad’s car in Miami? For sure a highlight, but Mick would have preferred to drive a current car. Preferably one that didn’t suck. Preferably one that let him drive with and against George. At least he was going to be able to test the Mercedes car soon.

 

George though, was definitely the highlight of the past three months. And also maybe his life. Australia felt like a lifetime ago- and Mick enjoyed almost every minute of it with George. They had spent the month-long break between Australia and Azerbaijan ping ponging between relaxing in George’s flat in Monaco, relaxing in Mick’s flat in Switzerland, and occasionally breaking off to see family and friends. It had been really, really nice to just have George with him almost wherever he went. Even if George wasn’t physically with him, his earl gray scent still managed to cling to Mick’s sweaters and sheets, something he had never thought that he’d find comforting before. 

 

He really had never thought he’d have this with anyone. But he did. 

 

And throughout the long nights of staying up and talking, through workout sessions where Mick just barely managed to focus on himself rather than George’s arms, through some truly mind blowing rounds of sex, to kicking George’s ass in chess and immediately losing in backgammon, to sunset boat rides and early morning smoothies, Mick wanted everything with George. 

 

And he very nearly had it. 

 

They practically lived together even with the travel- Mercedes at some point had stopped getting them separate hotel rooms- and unless they were making a real public appearance, they always wore some item of clothing from the other. They ate, slept, breathed, and worked together. 

 

But it wasn’t enough. 

 

They still weren’t official, not that just being boyfriends wasn’t official, but they weren’t courting and-

 

Mick sighed and scratched down a few more half-hearted notes in his notebook. 

 

Currently, Mick was stuck in some stupid impromptu meeting concerning coffee etiquette in the motorhome and Toto had been talking for probably ten minutes about something to do with using paper towels and waste and recycling and something that Mick really wasn’t following. Maybe that was because the meeting was boring and didn’t apply to him. More likely though, was that George was sitting right next to him, blockers off and Mick was really trying not to do something cringe and embarrassing like scent him in front of everyone in the meeting.

 

Because that was apparently something he did now. Because apparently finding George made him have weird urges to do things that he had never had before. His doctor said it was normal for new scent compatible couples, even Betas, but Mick really wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Like scenting? That had never been on his radar before. Or worse, he had recently realized that he was just a bit more possessive than he had ever imagined he’d be. He wasn’t sure if that was also something that had been awakened in him via his and George’s scent compatibility thing- but it was still fucking weird- because why the fuck did he now get irrationally annoyed whenever he saw or heard people thirsting over George? Or touching him when they had no right to be. Or excessively shaking his hand, or clapping his shoulder, or someone daring to nudge his thigh in meetings despite Mick being right fucking there and it being a meeting on coffee cleanup or whatever and-

 

George kicked him under the table. 

 

“Mick, chill out.” George hissed. 

 

Oh.

 

The meeting was over. 

 

“Hm?” Mick hummed in response, still glaring at the idiot who dared to touch his boyfriend when they were so clearly together. “What Georgie?”

 

“Oh my God.”

 

And then George was dragging him out of the office to his driver's room by his wrist, the other hand holding both his and Mick’s items. He slammed the door shut behind them.

 

“You-” George started, before yanking off his shirt and throwing it at Mick, “need to calm the fuck down.”

 

“What?!” Mick cried, grabbing George’s shirt out of the air. “He was touching your leg!”

 

“We were sitting on a bench! You were touching me as well!”

 

“Yeah, but that’s because I-” Mick didn’t get to finish his sentence because suddenly George was pulling him into a very hard, very rough kiss. 

 

“You’re done?” George asked, panting as he pulled away. “No one’s taking me away, Mick.”

 

“Sorry.” Mick was not sorry in the slightest. 

 

George rolled his eyes. “You’re done being weird now?”

 

No, Mick was not. 

 

Especially not when George managed to pull nine positions out of his ass and go from qualifying twelfth to being on the goddamn podium during the race. 

 

In short: Mick felt conflicted. 

 

And weirder than before. 

 

On one hand, it was hard to ignore the bitter voice within him that said that it should’ve been him up there, or worse, the part of him that knew he wasn’t remotely good enough to podium in F1. But on the other hand, it was George on the fucking podium dripping sweat and champagne and Mick seriously needed to lick it off him. Or drop to his knees. Or kiss George senseless. Or cry in sheer happiness at watching George bounce in excitement as he waited to receive his very well-deserved trophy.

 

As soon as all his debriefing meetings were over, Mick took a quick detour and took a shower, hoping that he’d be out by the time George was done with whatever bullshit people needed to do when they podiumed. Unfortunately though, by the time Mick had finished with his shower (he had taken certain preparations in washing himself so it wasn’t exactly a quick rinse), George was already in the drivers room. 

 

The scent was something else. 

 

Firstly, it smelt like happy George. That was always good. 

 

Second, and unsurprisingly, it smelt like sweat and champagne. And not in the gross way, but again, in the Mick really kind of wanted to lick it off him kind of way. 

 

“Mick!” George exclaimed, practically jumping over to him. “P3 baby!”

 

Mick couldn’t help but grin. “I saw! Congratulations!”

 

“Yeah!” George’s voice cracked. He was still bouncing on his toes, looking a bit like an enthusiastic Jack in the Box. It was adorable. Mick really needed to kiss him. So naturally, after he locked the door behind him, he did. 

 

“Bit eager are we?” George pulled away, avoiding touching Mick. “Sorry, I don’t want to get you filthy.”

 

Mick raised an eyebrow. “Who says I don’t want that?”

 

“Pardon?” George asked, though he reached for the bottom of his fireproofs as he yanked it off. 

 

George’s scent hit him like a freight train. Mick might have moaned. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore, especially when George was standing in front of him shirtless, still soaked from his podium. 

 

“Mick. Angel. I need to shower.”

 

“No.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I disagree. You smell fantastic. Please fuck me.” The words came out in a rush, and Mick sincerely could not stop himself from moving closer to George. “ Please. ” He whimpered again- because he was fucking deranged now, he supposed- and took George’s hand and placed it on his waist. 

 

“We’re literally in my driver’s room.”

 

They were. Mick didn’t care. Toto Wolff himself could start knocking on the door and Mick wouldn’t care if it meant that George was fucking him. 

 

“I don’t care.” 

 

George glanced up, looking around the room. “I mean, can you be quiet?”

 

Definitely not.

 

“You can make me be.” 

 

“Can I at least rinse off first? The texture is horrible.”

 

Mick nodded. “Please be fast.”

 

“I will, angel. Just don't leave the room okay? And don’t let anyone else in. Just like, sit on your hands in the bed.”

 

“I’m not going to go feral or whatever,” And the only reason Mick was confident in that was because Betas couldn’t physically do that. “And you know that I’m in my right mind.”

 

He was. He was just also ridiculously horny and was literally prepped and ready for George to fuck him the moment he wanted to. 

 

“Okay. Well. Still. Be good.” 

 

And then George was gone, slamming the door behind him. 

 

Fuck . 

 

Mick sat down on the massage table, and like any other reasonable twenty-four-year-old man, he pressed his hand over his dick and tried not to make too many horribly loud noises. His jeans were getting uncomfortable, and Mick briefly wondered why on earth he had showered only to put on fucking jeans when he knew he was getting fucked. But he didn’t need to think about that for too long because after only a few minutes George slammed the door open again.

 

“Hey Mick-” and George’s jaw dropped as he saw him, legs spread, grinding down on his hand. “Is this my reward for getting a podium?”

 

“Yeah,” Mick breathed. 

 

“Damn.” George continued to stare. “Can’t wait to see what a win will get me.”

 

Jesus.

 

Mick couldn’t wait either. 

 

“Touch me?” Mick asked, just short of begging. 

 

“I thought this was my reward.” George locked the door. He began pulling off his shirt again.

 

“It’s mine as well. The car would be shit if I wasn’t selling my soul to the SIM.”

 

“So it wasn’t my driving and it was all you?”

 

“Mhm.” 

 

George laughed. “Sure, angel. If that’s what you want to tell yourself, this can be your reward too. Now, remind me what you want?”

 

Mick looked up at him. George’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and Mick needed him to touch him. “ Fuck me .”

 

“What?” George asked, taking a step forward. “What did you say?”

 

“Well, I don’t want to yell-”

 

“Mick, you said something in German. I do not speak German. Please tell me in a language I can speak what you want.”

 

Oh.

 

Well that was embarrassing.

 

Mick had no excuse for that one other than George’s scent was getting sweeter and stronger by the moment, and Mick was kind of getting dangerously close to cumming in his jeans like some kind of idiot.

 

“Fuck me.” Mick said again, this time trying to make the words sound right in his mouth. “Please Georgie.”

 

George smirked. “I can do that, now two questions: are you clean, and are you prepped?”

 

Mick nodded. 

 

“Good boy.”

 

Fucking Christ. Mick really hoped there weren't any incriminating stains on the front of his jeans because this conversation definitely was doing some damage to his briefs. He didn’t care too much though. He could always tie a sweatshirt around his waist if he needed to. He pulled his shirt off. George stared openly at his chest, something Mick couldn’t help but take pride in. He didn’t work out just to sit in the SIM all day.

 

“Lie back for me, okay?” 

 

Mick did as he was told. There was just enough room on the massage table for him to lay all the way back with his legs dangling off the side.

 

“Good. Do you trust me?”

 

Mick nodded. 

 

“Words, Mick. I need words.”

 

“Yes, yes, please. ”

 

“Thank you.” And then George was slowly unbuttoning his pants, and pulling them down off him. He stopped. “ Fuck .”

 

“Is everything okay?” Mick asked, suddenly nervous. 

 

“I forgot to take your shoes off.” George groaned. “Hang on. My word, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

 

George untied and pulled Mick’s sneakers off with a level of care Mick had not thought possible. Then, his pants were finally yanked off and were thrown somewhere. “This is quite a view.”

 

“Can you cut the commentary and fuck me already?” Mick complained, moving his hand back onto his dick. He pressed down, letting himself grind into it for a moment, hoping it would inspire George to shut up.

 

“Not if I keep getting such a pretty show when I don’t.” George’s hands slipped over his thighs and onto his waist, causing Mick to squirm. “Maybe I should just leave you like this. Maybe my reward will be watching you ruin those-”

 

Mick grabbed George by the collar and pulled him into a rough kiss. He really could not stand George’s yapping anymore. Then, his hands were being carefully, though still forcefully, being moved above his head. 

 

“I’m taking your underwear off, okay?” George said, giving Mick an entirely inappropriate double thumbs-up. “Is that cool with you?”

 

“Obviously I would not be in this position if I was not cool with you taking my underwear off.”

 

“Consent is important Mick,” George countered, though he was finally pulling off Mick’s underwear which was definitely a win. “And you’re- wowza .”

 

Mick briefly considered grabbing his clothes and leaving. What sort of man looked down at another man’s asshole and said wowza? Unfortunately, Mick was a weak, weak man and way too horny to actually commit to that. Especially when-

 

Oh God .

 

Mick was going to die.

 

Mick was going to die right here and right now on George’s fucking massage table. And everyone in the Mercedes motorhome could definitely hear him, even though the drivers’ rooms were definitely supposed to be somewhat soundproofed for when people had unfortunate heats and ruts. Mick could only hope that Lewis had already gone back to the hotel because he was not in any state to try and dodge the Omega allegations. Especially when George was eating him out on his knees and he was practically screaming George’s name.

 

“I-” Mick gasped, back arching as he tried to keep his hands over his head. “I take back anything I said about your mouth- Jesus- oh God- Georgie- ”

 

Mick’s thighs tightened around George’s neck, and had he been in a state of mind to think about, well, anything, Mick would’ve worried about strangling him. As it was, George was fucking moaning and Mick wasn’t about to ruin his fun.

 

George pulled away, lips shiny with split. “Good?”

 

Mick was going to kill him. He wrapped his thighs back around George, trying to pull him closer, but no matter how hard he tried, George was still a racing driver and pulled away as if it were nothing. 

 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” George said casually, as if he was talking about Mick’s laps on the SIM, or the weather on the track. He stood up from where he had been kneeling and grabbed the lube Mick had not-so-conspicuously left on the table. “How prepared are you?”

 

Mick swallowed and propped his head up on his hands. “Enough.”

 

That was probably understating it. But George didn’t need to know about the baffling positions Mick had pretzeled himself into in the very small shower in the motorhome. Mick was just thankful that he was only 176 cm and therefore did have the space to try and finger himself open.

 

“Good.” George replied, ungracefully taking his pants and his underwear off. “I’m going to start off slow anyway.”

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “It’s your reward though, so you can-”

 

“Mick.” George interrupted, voice soft. “I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“I love you too.” Mick whispered. “Please kiss me.”

 

“Are you sure?” George asked, “I did just…you know. Also, is it alright that I don’t have a condom?”

 

Jesus Christ. 

 

Mick had not been emotionally prepared to be fucked raw. But that was more than okay with him, especially since he and George were both tested and clean of anything. 

 

“Yes, it’s fine. And yes, I know what you were doing. I was there. Please kiss me, Georgie.” 

 

George’s lips were soft, and the kiss was surprisingly gentle, even as George slowly began to push into him. 

 

“Does anything hurt?” George brushed a hand through Mick’s hair.

 

“No- just keep- oh fuck -” Mick cried as George finally pushed all the way in. “ Georgie-”

“Good?” 

 

Mick nodded. 

 

“Good. Can you be quiet?”

 

Mick shook his head. 

 

George looked a little bit too proud of himself, but Mick couldn’t even complain as George covered his mouth with his hand. “That’ll do, won’t it?”

 

Mick nodded, eyes wide. He was sure he was bright red, and he could feel himself trembling as George slowly began to move. As George went faster- clearly using pent-up adrenaline from the race to fuck him harder and harder- it was getting more difficult to stay quiet, especially when there was only one thing Mick could think of that could make this better. 

 

“George-” Mick panted, voice still muffled, as he reached for George’s other hand on his waist. “Georgie-”

 

“Hm?” George lifted his hand off Mick’s mouth. “You alright?”

 

And then George had the fucking nerve to stop moving. 

 

“Does anything hurt Mick? Did I-”

 

“Oh my God. I didn’t say to stop.” Mick groaned, trying to grind down on George, though he really wasn’t nearly flexible enough to get into a comfortable position to do that. “Come on, Georgie, please -”

 

George began moving again, though this time he was pulling Mick closer to him and bent far enough over where Mick could hear his heart rate accelerating as he went faster. It was driving him insane. And that wasn’t even mentioning how strongly George smelled, and Mick was getting tempted to just push himself up and bite down as hard as he could on George’s scent gland. Mick was almost thankful that they weren’t a typical couple because if they were, Mick was sure he would’ve accidentally mated him by now. As it was, all Mick could do was moan into George’s hand and just take whatever George wanted to give him. 

 

Until, of course, George gently nipped Mick’s neck, causing several things to happen. 

 

First, and most embarrassing, Mick screamed and begged George to bite him harder.

 

Second, it made him cum- something that really wasn’t that surprising considering he had been close for quite some time now.

 

Third, George bit his neck. Hard. And then proceeded to cum in him. 

 

And finally: George fucking collapsed on top of him, just barely managing to pull out before doing so. 

 

They lay on the massage table for a few minutes, just struggling to catch their breath. Mick felt something trickle down his aching neck, and for a moment, he thought it was just spit until George finally sat up and-

 

“Fuck.” Mick said, staring at George’s mouth. There was blood on his lips and teeth, and suddenly Mick was very aware of the pain in his neck. “ Fuck . George.”

 

George didn’t respond, gaze fixed in horror at whatever he had done to his neck. 

 

“George,” Mick said again, trying to push himself upright though he felt a bit like a puddle of goo. “George, I’m okay.”

 

George nodded nearly imperceptibly, though his mouth was still agape in shock. 

 

“I swear I’m okay.” 

 

“Okay.” George whispered. “I’m so so so sorry, Mick.”

 

“It’s okay.” Mick mumbled, because seriously what else could he say? “I’m fine. Just please don’t leave me.”

 

“I’m not…” George trailed off. “ Fuck . I need to wash my mouth off. And we need to clean you up. I don’t want to have given you an infection. I love you. I’ll be right back, okay?”

 

And then George was yanking on a pair of pants and a shirt and running out the door. 

 

He left him.

 

And that meant Mick was alone, neck still bleeding, feeling like a sticky, disgusting mess. He needed to leave, especially since George had probably left him because he was so disgusting. He slid off the table easily enough, though it was nearly impossible for him to ignore the feeling of George’s cum on his thighs- something he would have likely found hot if the circumstances were different- and grabbed the roll of paper towels that George had left in his drivers’ room. Feeling humiliated, he balled up the paper towels and tried to clean himself off, though it was a difficult endeavor because he couldn’t seem to make his hands stop shaking. Eventually though, he managed to get to the point where he was able to yank on his clothing before he grabbed his phone and his backpack and ran.

 

He didn’t make it far though, as almost immediately, he ran smack into Lewis. 

 

Lewis was wearing big, thick headphones, and looked pointedly away from him. But Mick couldn’t be mad about that, especially when it meant that Lewis couldn’t see Mick’s still bleeding neck. He didn’t know what conversation that would lead to, but he was certain he wanted to avoid it. 

 

“Mick?” A voice cracked behind him “Mick, please don’t go.”

 

Lewis slipped away back into his room. 

 

There was a hand on Mick’s shoulder, and the scent of sour, oversteeped tea flooded into the hallway. 

 

“Mick, please- please don’t-” George said again, voice breaking. “I was washing my face off and I got a first-aid kit. I didn’t want you to get sick because of this, please go back into my room, and we’ll figure this out, please .”

 

Oh. 

 

George was clutching the first-aid kit to himself, and his face was no longer covered in blood, so Mick had no choice but to believe him. He let George guide him into his driver’s room again, and just let his mind go blank as George began to fret over him. 

 

“You should bite me back.” George said, seemingly out of nowhere as he finished bandaging Mick’s neck. “I feel all out of sorts, I think you feel out of sorts, and that’s probably why.” 

 

Mick blinked. “What?”

 

“Like, I know we can’t mate, but I just feel so, so wrong.” George’s eyes were wide and honest. “I need you. So please, please bite me. I need it.”

 

Mick swallowed. “You are for sure?”

 

It didn’t come out right, but Mick hoped George understood what he meant.

 

“Yes. I feel incomplete. And wrong. So please, Mick. Please just do it already.”

 

What could Mick say? The idea of George with a nearly identical bite wasn’t an unappealing one, though it definitely wasn’t something he had ever considered happening. The fact they also weren’t courting was also something that bothered him as well- especially since this wasn’t even a proper mating. It was all out of order, and all felt just a bit too impossible for Mick to really think of clearly. Especially when he too felt very affected by George’s bite. George smelled stronger to him, and now that he thought about it, he really really just wanted to scent him. And bite him back.

 

God.

 

This was so, so, so fucked.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you though.”

 

It was a weak excuse. George’s bite, though initially painful, had felt unbelievably good. He knew that. George knew that.

 

“ Please .” 

 

Mick couldn’t resist.

 

Mick didn’t remember biting him, or pulling away, or washing his mouth off in the bathroom, or bandaging George up, or even the ride home with George. He just assumed that they happened because he woke up the next morning curled up next to George feeling far calmer than he had felt in years. 

 

“Georgie?” Mick whispered, carefully shaking George’s shoulder. 

 

George opened his eyes, looking decidedly less than thrilled about being woken up at- Mick looked over at the clock- 6:36am. “What?” He rasped, voice low. 

 

Suddenly everything that Mick wanted to say left his mind, except just one thing.“I love you.” 

 

“I love you too,” George responded, smiling. “I feel a bit odd, but I guess that could be because of the whole biting thing.”

 

“Yeah.” Mick stared at him. “The whole biting thing.”

 

George stared back, seemingly realizing at the same time what they had done. “Mick.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Are we-?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How do we test it?” Mick asked, after a moment of silence. He still felt oddly relaxed, despite the situation they were in.

 

“Talk to our doctors?”

 

“We’re in Spain, Georgie. And we have to get on a plane today, and I really really don’t think we can get away with missing it this time to come to a doctor.”

 

George sighed. “I mean, we’re Betas. There’s no way we are mated.”

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

“Maybe this is like a temporary thing, and the marks will fade over time?”

 

Mick shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

 

“We’ll just have to see. But for now, we better just get ready for our flight. Then we have testing, then we can talk to our doctors and figure things out from there. Make sense?”

 

Mick stared at him. Somehow, in all of this, he had completely forgotten he was driving a working Formula 1 car in two days. “Yeah.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“I forgot about the test.”

 

“You’re going to do great. I promise.”

 

“And this…will be alright?”

 

“Yeah.” George said, pulling Mick closer to him again. Their scents hung in the air. It was nice. 

 

Mick looked back at the clock. 

 

It was now nearly seven. 

 

He could afford to go back to sleep just for a bit longer, knowing that he would be safe with George no matter what. Mick fell asleep easily, George’s face tucked into his neck, arms secured around him, not quite ready for what lay in store for him.

Notes:

hey gang! so first of all: so so sorry it took awhile to get this one out.

second: thank you all for reading and your comments <3 it means so much so please keep doing that and let me know how you enjoyed (or didnt enjoy) the porn ! love yall!

Chapter 15: george interlude (while i figure shit out)

Summary:

georges interlude. before we get into the Big Plot Relevant shit

Notes:

haha long time no see haha. anyway, only warning here is a panic attack. no miscarriages to be seen!

They weren’t mated. 

 

It was both disappointing and a relief, because while George wished more than anything he could mate Mick, he also would not have wanted it to happen in his drivers’ room by accident. It would have been meticulously planned and just as romantic as Mick deserved, not some rushed accidental mark. It would have been the result of months of courting, of gifts, of proper and traditional procedure, and it would have been real.

 

But this was not real.

 

What it was, according to their doctors, was essentially a way of microdosing mating. They’d bite each other, feel really good for a few days, then be back to normal. And they couldn’t even do it too often because they would build a tolerance to the weird pheromones or whatever made the whole mating thing happen. George didn’t really understand it. His doctor had also suggested they take a break from seeing each other, and George, in that instant remembered one crucial thing: his and Mick’s relationship was not something that would really be accepted. 

 

Two Alphas together? Totally reasonable, might have some issues but otherwise relatively normal.

 

Even a Beta and an Omega worked out just fine. 

 

Two Omegas together were fine- a bit weird- but fine. 

 

Two Betas? Nearly unheard of. 

 

There was next to no research on them, no real legal protection (beyond the basic all secondary genders should have the same rights crap that didn’t mean much when there was no protection for longtime unmated couples), and just jack fucking shit. Maybe it would have been easier if George’s doctor was a Beta, and didn’t think George was just wasting his time with Mick. Maybe it would be easier if Mick wasn’t so cagey about whatever advice his doctor told him (though George really, really, couldn’t fault him for that). 

 

Maybe it would be easier if they just broke it off now, and just gave up on this stupid, stupid relationship that would never get anywhere.

 

It would be easier. 

 

George knew Mick was thinking about it. 

 

He couldn’t even be that hurt by it, because he was fucking thinking about it.

 

But George wasn’t going to bring it up, because truthfully, no matter how much not being able to be mated hurt, he loved Mick too much to just let him go. He could only hope Mick felt the same. 

 

George worried he didn’t. 

 

He wasn’t winning races, hell, he wasn’t even on the podium. Why would Mick want to stay with someone who was losing?

 

George had asked Mick about that a few races ago after Canada, where he landed himself in a rather disappointing P19 that reminded him a bit too much of his time spent at Williams. Mick had just scoffed, and pointed out that he wasn’t even on the grid, and that possibly Mick loved him for more than just his ability to race. Realistically, George knew that was the case. But he still worried. 

 

It was nearly halfway through the season, and George had nothing to show for it other than one podium and a different haircut. 

 

(Charles had been right, the bangs definitely suited him more.)

 

(And Mick liked that George’s hair was curlier, as he had said way back in Bahrain.)

 

(It was a bit reminiscent of his Williams haircut, but George actually really liked it.)

 

(So did the fans, supposedly. Mick did not like that. George just found it funny.)

 

But if George had to choose between having bangs and not qualifying in 17th, he would have chosen the latter anyday. At least it was Hungary, and not Monaco, so he could at least make some of the positions up. 

 

Probably. 

 

George was not entirely optimistic about that. 

 

That was probably an understatement. 

 

He was actually sobbing in the shower over that. Because Mick was doing SIM work and therefore was not with him. And George had also not eaten all day because he had a feeling that maybe racing on a vaguely empty stomach would allow him to go just a bit faster, even if right now he felt a bit lightheaded. But that could have just been the sobbing. 

 

And hyperventilating. 

 

And-

 

Ah . 

 

He was having a panic attack. 

 

It was far too slow of a realization for something that George had experienced far too many times before. He sat down, his limbs feeling longer and clumsier than usual, and pressed his hands into his eyes and just hoped that his body would remember to breathe again. He wasn’t even sure why he was panicking. Maybe it was the stress of qualifying 18th. Maybe it was the stress of Lewis and Nico continuously bothering him and Mick about courting. Maybe it was the usual hate mail he received on social media for just existing as a Mercedes driver next to Lewis. Maybe it was the fact that Mick was doing SIM work all the way in Brackley. Maybe it was the fact that he and Mick would never be able to properly mate. Maybe it was-

 

George forced himself to stop thinking about it, and just focused on trying to take deep breaths. 

 

It wasn’t really working, but he knew he’d get over it soon. 

 

He always did. 

 

Even when he was going to sleep alone tonight.

 

Mick didn’t text him back when he sent him his usual goodnight text.

 

The race was as good as it could be. He managed to pull the car into sixth, and it felt almost good to celebrate a well deserved drive into the points, and Lewis had gotten fourth, and really, it was the best he was going to get. 

 

Mick texted him several confetti emojis, and promised that he’d see him as soon as he could, and George knew that he wouldn’t see him until after Spa. 

 

Fucking double headers. 

 

At least they were going to the beach together for Summer break, and George would have a full month (except when Mick was testing the car) with him. 

 

The thought alone made him calm down just a bit easier. He’d see Mick in a car, Mick happy, and Mick would be with him. They could go swimming together, and all George would have to worry about was whether he and Mick were going to get horrible matching sunburns or not. They would be able to sit on the beachfront, in the sweet privacy of whatever place they could afford (which was far more money than George had ever fathomed he could have), and feed each other strawberries did (or whatever cheesy couples did) and he wouldn’t need to worry about his weight, or prying eyes, or motorsport drama, or anyone else other than Mick. 

 

It was only a matter of waiting patiently, and soon he could be happy again.

Notes:

hopefully we'll get the fic rolling again!!! pls comment and kudos and love u alllllll <3

Notes:

sorry not sorry. leave a comment if you want. please do . everyone will show up soon enough be patient with me im just a lil guy

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of morgemegaverse and other things