Chapter Text
The ride back down the mountain was, somehow, both faster and slower than the climb up.
Faster because Nico rode with the ease of someone who knew every inch of that terrain, the bike gliding through the curves like it was just another limb of his body. But for Gabriel, time felt stretched thin inside a bubble of pure euphoria.
This time, the fear of wiping out on the dirt road was gone. Gabriel wasn’t holding onto Nico just to stay steady. He was embracing him. He pressed his chest to the German’s back, feeling the warmth of his body through the gray shirt, absorbing every shift, every change in gear, every breath.
The wind smacked against the helmet, but inside Gabriel’s mind there was only silence, except for the looping memory of Nico’s mouth on his, the scrape of his rough beard, the taste of danger and salt.
When the Harley’s tires rolled over the familiar concrete of the shop’s yard, the sun was already setting, painting the industrial sky in shades of orange and purple, colors that somehow looked beautiful for the first time in that gray place. Nico killed the engine. Silence washed over them again, but this time it wasn’t awkward.
Gabriel swung off the bike, his legs wobbly. He took off his helmet and tried to fix his hair with his fingers, feeling oddly exposed under Nico’s gaze. Nico got off too and stood there, leaning on the handlebars, watching him openly.
"We’re here," Nico said. His voice was low, still carrying that rough scrape the kiss had left.
"We’re here," Gabriel echoed, the words slipping out like a disappointed sigh.
He glanced at his car parked nearby. The luxury sedan looked out of place now, like a spaceship ready to drag him back to a planet he wasn’t sure he wanted to belong to anymore. Gabriel handed Nico the helmet. Their hands brushed. The tiny contact sent a jolt up Gabriel’s arm, raising goosebumps along his neck.
"Thanks," Gabriel said, holding Nico’s gaze. "For the food. For the ride. And… for the rest."
Nico took the helmet and hooked it onto the bike, but didn’t step back. He stepped forward, forcing Gabriel to tilt his head up to keep looking at him. Nico lifted a hand and ran his thumb along Gabriel’s cheek. The touch was firm, possessive.
"Don’t thank me yet," Nico murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You’re filthy. Your hair is a mess. And you smell like exhaust."
Gabriel let out a laugh — light, loose, almost boyish — something he didn’t even know he still had in him.
"I’ve never felt better," he admitted.
Nico’s smile widened into something real, something that reached his eyes and softened the hard lines of age on his face.
"I know," the German said. He leaned in and pressed a quick but firm kiss to Gabriel’s forehead. Then came a slow, dry peck on his mouth, small, but enough to make Gabriel’s knees nearly give out again. "Now go. Get in your fancy car and get out of here before it gets really dark. This area isn’t for pretty boys at night."
It was an expulsion, sure, but it sounded like extreme care. Almost… obsessive.
"When… when do I see you again?" Gabriel asked, the fear of losing this contact already tightening his chest.
Nico stepped back, crossing his arms, sliding right back into his tough guy posture, though his eyes still shone.
"When your car makes noise again," Nico said, winking. "Or when you get tired of that part of the city. You know the way."
Gabriel nodded, biting his lip to stop the stupid smile threatening to take over his face. He walked to his car, unlocked it, and got in.
He looked through the window. Nico was still there, standing beside the Harley with his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, watching him leave. Gabriel started the car and drove off slowly. He kept checking the rearview mirror until Nico’s broad silhouette and the rusty shop gate disappeared behind the curve.
The drive back downtown was a sweet kind of torture.
Gabriel drove on autopilot, obeying lights and lanes, but his mind was miles away, in that windy, rocky place. Every two minutes he touched his lips, brushing the sensitive skin, trying to confirm that it had actually happened.
He felt like he was floating. There was some generic pop song playing on the radio, but Gabriel didn't care. He heard Nico’s rough voice. He felt… invincible.
At the same time, every kilometer that brought him closer to his luxury apartment made the weight on his shoulders grow heavier. Going home meant going back to reality. To order. To silence.
And Gabriel, who always loved silence, suddenly feared it. He wanted noise. He wanted that man’s chaos.
When he parked in the building’s garage, he turned off the car and sat there for a whole minute in the dark, breathing deeply. He had to tell someone. If he didn’t, he’d explode. The euphoria was too big for one body.
He grabbed his phone, hands trembling slightly, and called Oliver. It barely rang twice.
"What’s up, stranger?" Oliver shouted over the background noise of what sounded like a fancy restaurant. "Survived your Saturday morning? Did the ogre eat you alive?"
Gabriel let out a laugh that sounded borderline hysterical inside the closed car.
"Ollie…" he started, and his voice cracked.
"Gabriel?" Oliver’s tone changed instantly. The background noise dimmed, like he’d walked to a quieter place. "What happened? Are you okay? Did he do something?"
"He kissed me," Gabriel blurted out, dropping the bomb with no buildup.
There were three seconds of pure silence.
"What?!" Oliver screamed so loudly Gabriel had to pull the phone away from his ear. "No fucking way! Where are you? I’m coming over!"
"I’m in my building’s garage," Gabriel said, leaning his head back on the seat, eyes closed, smiling up at the car ceiling. "And, Ollie… I think I’m screwed. Really, really screwed."
"Screwed how? Was it bad?"
"No," Gabriel whispered, his chest tightening with the fresh memory of Nico’s touch. "It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And that’s why I’m screwed. Because I’m staring at my elevator right now and all I want is to turn around and go live in that filthy shop."
Oliver cackled, a triumphant, disbelieving laugh.
"Oh, my friend… Cinderella didn’t just lose her slipper, she threw the other one away," he declared. "Go upstairs. I’m leaving right now. You’re telling me everything. And don’t you dare shower, I want to see that lovesick dumb face you’ve got on. It’s gonna be hilarious."
Gabriel hung up, still smiling. He got out of the car, locked it, and walked toward the elevator. He was dirty, tired, and smelled like smoke. His father would’ve been horrified. But when he caught his reflection in the elevator mirror, Gabriel saw a boy with messy hair, flushed cheeks, and a glow in his eyes that no perfect grade had ever given him.
He was in love, and honestly? Fuck it.
The iron gate of the shop slammed shut with the same metallic clang as always, but for the first time in years, that sound hit Nico like the end of a party instead of the start of his well earned rest.
He locked the padlock, checking it twice out of habit, then turned to the empty yard. The tire marks where Gabriel’s car had been parked were still there. The fancy sedan’s exhaust smell still lingered in the air, mixed with the scent of grass as night settled in.
He ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough beard. His lips were still tingling. Ridiculous. He was a nearly forty-year-old man, owned a repair shop, had calluses on his hands and a stable savings account. He shouldn’t be standing there in the middle of his yard, staring at nothing with the dumb smile of a teenager who’d just made out behind the bleachers.
"Behave, Hülkenberg," he muttered to himself, his raspy voice echoing in the empty garage. "You’re too old for this shit."
He walked to the fridge in the back, grabbed a beer, and popped it open with the tip of a screwdriver lying on the counter. The first sip went down cold, but it didn’t do anything to put out the warmth the kid had left in him.
He sat on the hood of a client’s car, legs swinging, staring at the dark ceiling while he tried to rationalize the irrational. He’d kissed the son of an old friend. A rich kid. A kid who lived in a glass box. It should’ve been a mistake. It should’ve been a logistical and emotional disaster.
But, God… Gabriel tasted like life.
"The door was locked, which means you’re either hiding a body or crying in the shower."
Kevin’s voice came from the side entrance, the one only close people knew about and whose lock Kevin could pick with a paperclip. Nico didn’t jump. He didn’t even turn around. He just took another sip of his beer.
"I’m drinking in peace. Or I was, until a loud Danish dude showed up," he said flatly.
Kevin stepped into the dim light, carrying a greasy paper bag that smelled like cheap Chinese food and a six-pack hanging from his finger. He stopped in front of Nico, analyzing him with that half-professional look of someone checking an engine for an oil leak.
"Where’s the kid?" Kevin asked, dropping the stuff onto a work table and pulling up a stool.
"He went home," Nico said simply.
"Alive?"
"Very alive."
Kevin cracked open a beer for himself, took a long gulp, and sighed like a man deeply satisfied. Then he looked at Nico again. Nico looked relaxed. His shoulders — normally glued to his ears — were actually down. And his face… there was a softness there that didn’t match the scenery.
"You look weird," Kevin accused, pointing his bottle at him.
"What look?" Nico frowned, trying to pull his usual scowl back into place.
"That look of someone who just swapped the filter and the engine finally stopped knocking," Kevin snorted. "You look… light, man. It’s disgusting."
Nico huffed, taking another swig.
"Fuck off, Magnussen."
"He came back in one piece? The car, I mean," Kevin added, all smug.
"The car’s perfect. The kid too," Nico admitted, too tired to keep pretending. "Took him up to the Quarry."
Kevin froze mid bite with a spring roll halfway to his mouth. His eyes went wide.
"The Quarry? That place up there? The one we used to go to when we needed to smoke and hide from our ex-wives?"
"Yeah. The view’s good."
"The view’s good," Kevin repeated, dripping sarcasm. "Nico, that place is far as hell. You put the rich boy on the back of your bike, went up that shitty dirt road just for the view?"
"He handled it fine," Nico defended, and the hint of pride in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. "Didn’t complain. Held on tight. He’s… sturdy. More than he looks."
Kevin chewed slowly, processing. The silence between them was comfortable, built on years of friendship. They weren’t gossiping teenagers. They were two tired men with complicated lives, drinking beer in a garage.
"You kissed him," Kevin didn’t ask. He stated.
Nico stared at the beer label, scraping the wet paper with his nail.
"I did," he admitted quietly.
Kevin let out a raspy laugh, throwing his head back.
"I knew it! Dirty old man!" He lifted his bottle in a toast to no one. "I knew that 'accounting homework' bullshit wouldn’t last."
"It’s not dirty, for fuck’s sake," Nico snapped, kicking Kevin’s stool. "It’s… complicated. He’s young. He’s got that whole tidy life, the internship, the college, the expensive shoes. And I’m… this." He gestured around. At the shop. At himself. "A mechanic."
"So what?" Kevin shrugged. "Since when do you care about matching? You put a V8 engine in a Chevette last year. Nothing in your life matches, Nico. That’s why it works."
Nico smirked a little, shaking his head. It was a stupid analogy, but it made sense.
"He looked… different," Nico said, his gaze drifting. "Not to brag, but… when he’s here with me, he looks like he actually breathes. Like he stops trying to be perfect."
"And you stop trying to be an asshole," Kevin added, laughing. "It’s a double miracle."
Nico threw a greasy rag at him. Kevin dodged it, still laughing.
"Seriously, Hülk," Kevin said, suddenly sober, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You’re screwed. I can see it all over you. You’re not just hooking up with the kid. You’re completely gone. You’re staring at the wall and smiling. It’s pathetic."
"I’m not gone," Nico lied, knowing it was pointless. "I just… like him. He’s interesting. He pushes back."
"He folds you," Kevin corrected. "And you’re made of steel. The kid’s gotta have some kind of superpower."
"His superpower is being stubborn as hell and pretty like the devil," Nico grumbled, finishing his beer.
He hopped off the car hood and walked to the garage door, staring out into the dark night. He thought about Gabriel in that clean, safe, fancy apartment building. Thought about whether he was telling his rich friend. Thought about whether he’d come back.
"He’ll come back," Kevin said, reading Nico’s mind like always. "He’ll come back, and he’ll bring more trouble. And you’re gonna love every second of it."
Nico lit a cigarette, the orange glow lighting up his tired but satisfied face. He breathed in deep and exhaled into the night.
"Yeah," he said, feeling that good weight in his chest, that sense of everything clicking into place. "Bring on the trouble. My toolbox is full."
Kevin lifted his beer in a silent toast to his friend’s back.
"Just one thing, Nico," he said, grabbing another spring roll. "If he makes you start listening to pop or wearing loafers, I quit."
Nico laughed, smoke curling out of his nose.
"Relax, Kev. The kid’s got potential. Give it a minute and he’ll be changing oil better than you."
"Doubt it, but I’ll pay to see."
Nico Hülkenberg accepted his fate. He was falling for the pretty boy, and there wasn’t a fuse in the world that could fix that.