Gewis A/b/o Verse, Set In 2021

gewis a/b/o verse, set in 2021

1.8k words, some angst and some love confessions

It’s been an exhausting day. Physically, emotionally — you name it. His first points in F1; real points, that is. Points for Williams. But others haven’t had such a great race.

Although he’s not a Mercedes driver, he’s still part of their pack and is still welcome in the packroom from time to time. He can’t overdo it, otherwise some of the other teams might complain, so he really only goes over on special occasions.

Today would be one of them. Not because of his points, but due to Valtteri’s screw-up that led to so many DNFs. He knows the alpha needs his pack now, and he’s been trying to get on his good side again ever since Imola, so it’s a no-brainer that he’s coming over.

He snuggles up beside him as soon as he reaches the packroom, getting comfortable inside the pile of bodies in the shared nest.

He’s about to drift off when a new scent approaches the room. Lewis comes in, stops in the doorway just as he spots George in the middle of everyone, and swiftly turns around to leave again.

Valtteri can smell George's scent turning sour at what just happened and he tries to save the situation, “Don’t take it personally, he’s just—“

“He doesn’t like me, I know.” The and I’m surprised you still do goes unsaid.

“What?” Another voice joins in — Shov. Others are probably listening in as well.

“He doesn’t like me, I already know that. I can tell, I’m not stupid.”

“What makes you think that?” Valtteri prompts him.

“He never spends more than 2 seconds in the same room as me, either he leaves just as I come in or only comes in after I leave. He can’t get away from me soon enough whenever we have a conversation, always replies with curt sentences. I don’t know what I’ve done but— I’m used to it by now.” He tries to hide his sniffle, but the way his usually sweet lavender iced tea scent turns acidic tells everyone how he really feels about it.

When someone else is about to retort, George speaks again, “It’s fine, honestly. You don’t have to try to make me feel better about it, I’m already dealing with it on my own.”

He curls up on himself and buries his head into Valtteri’s neck, completely missing the worried looks and shocked expressions of the rest of the pack.

—

“Lewis!”

He’s on his way back to his motorhome, done with debrief and everything else racing-related for the day, ready to begin his summer break. He turns around and waits for Valtteri to catch up to him.

“What’s up, man?”

“George.”

He tenses a little at the mention of the omega’s name but schools his expression into a neutral one soon after, levelling Valtteri with a What about him? stare.

“You have to do something, either address it or get over it, but you gotta stop avoiding him.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your—“

“He thinks you dislike him.”

And, oh, he didn’t expect to hear that today. Or, ever. He wordlessly gestures for the other alpha to continue.

“He told us earlier, he thinks you don’t like him. And before you make something up, I know that’s not the case,” Valtteri tells him sternly, giving him no room to use his usual excuses.

He should’ve known the Finn can see right through him.

“So, you better fix this. He’s part of the pack,” he says with a pleading look, displaying how different they are, even though they are both alphas. Lewis cares about the pack, of course he does — but he’s been so used to carrying on as a lone wolf, sometimes he still under-appreciates its importance.

“And he will be your teammate next year. You will have to spend time with him, whether you like it or not, or—“ Valtteri pauses and corrects himself just as he can see Lewis trying to jump in again, “whether you’re ready or not.”

The next few moments are filled with silence, Lewis mulling over the new revelations. He knew he couldn’t avoid the younger omega forever, but he thought he might have more time to figure things out.

“Fuck. I’ve messed up big time, haven’t I?”

“He says he’s been dealing with it. I don’t know what that means but… sounds like he’s been aware of it for quite some time.”

“I will fix this, I promise,” Lewis tries to make his sincerity shine through his eyes.

For everyone’s sake, but mainly George’s, the other alpha hopes that he still can.

—

When George opens the door to his hotel room later that day, there’s a bouquet of flowers waiting for him. And a box of chocolates along with a teddy bear, all nestled in comfortable-looking blankets.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think someone is trying to court him.

I’m sorry. Can we talk tonight? — Lewis xx reads the attached card. Oh, so someone blabbed to him and now he’s trying to play nice. Or has he been forced to, by the team?

George will hear him out but he doesn’t need fake sympathies. He can handle someone disliking him, even if that someone happens to be a person he’s admired since he was a little boy.

He can’t pretend he wouldn’t like to hear Lewis’ reasoning though. Maybe if he gets some constructive feedback he can work on whatever it is that makes him so unlikeable.

He makes his way to the Mercedes floor a little while later, wanting to get this over and done with as quickly as he can. He has a Williams party to go to, later.

When he makes it to Lewis’ room, it takes him a few minutes to respond. George has half the mind to turn around and forget about this when the door finally opens.

“George!”

He's shirtless, dressed only in sweatpants with his hair still dripping on the floor. Clearly, he just hopped out of the shower. George lets himself stare for exactly 3 seconds before averting his gaze.

The lovely smell of rich wood mixed with vanilla soon hits his nostrils and his eyes immediately find Lewis’ neck. He hasn’t reapplied his suppressant patch yet, that would explain it. George just hopes his body’s reaction to it isn’t noticeable.

“Did you get my gift?” he asks while letting him in. There’s a glint of something in his eyes. Probably of surprise, he likely didn’t expect me to turn up so soon, George muses.

He takes his time toeing his shoes off.

“I did, yes,” he says, and then continues when Lewis doesn’t add anything on his own, “What was that for?”

“I, erm, wanted to talk to you.” George just raises his eyebrows at him in a Yes, I got that. “And apologise,” he finishes.

“Listen, if this is about what I said in the packroom earlier—“

“It’s not. Well, it is, kinda. But not only that.”

George sighs and moves to sit on the sofa after Lewis motions for him to do so, disappearing to get a t-shirt for himself before coming back and offering him a drink.

He sips on his water as he waits for him to start talking.

“I’m sorry. For avoiding you. I didn’t— I didn’t think it was so apparent, to be frank. And I realise I acted like a total douchebag, so, really, I am so sorry, George. You didn’t deserve that, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

George sits with these words for a while, he’s wanted answers for so long to only get this — that he didn't do anything wrong. What a load of crap. “Then why did you?”

The pained sound of his voice coupled with the burning taste of tea in the air break Lewis’ heart just that bit more. He never wants to smell this again, especially with the knowledge he’s to blame for it. He wants the happy scent of lavender and citrus and brewing tea to surround him again.

“I just— needed to keep my distance,” he confesses. There is no reason to hide what this is anymore.

“But why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Whenever we would see each other, after the race or in the factory after you’ve done laps in the sim, or later in the gym, you were always sweaty and—“ gee thanks, Lewis, good to know, “without patches and you smelled so delicious.” Wait, what? “It’s like your scent was luring me in. I could hardly keep myself in check.”

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me if that made you uncomfortable? I could’ve worn—“

“No, George, it didn’t make me uncomfortable. Not like that, at least. A different kind of uncomfortable, maybe.”

George looks up into his eyes to see they’re a few shades darker than the last time he remembers looking.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I’ve been feeling like this for years and I— I was just trying to keep my distance. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable and, honestly, I felt repulsed by myself. You are so much younger than me—“

“I’m 23, I’m a grown adult,” George chimes in. He’s so sick of being babied by the people around him.

“But you haven’t always been one. I met you when you were 18, really got to know you as our reserve when you were 20.”

“But back then— wait, back then?” George looks at him disbelievingly.

“Yes, even back then. As I said, I felt terrible about it. I knew what everyone would say, that I’m a cradle snatcher. And I knew what you deserved — a chance to make it in F1 without anyone insinuating I had anything to do with it.”

Lewis’ eyes have turned incredibly soft since they’ve started this talk, unlike any other time George has been witness to. He moves from the other side of the sofa to kneel right by him.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. Please trust me when I say keeping away from you has been so. freaking. hard. But it was the only way I knew how to deal with the situation.”

George still isn’t entirely sure he believes him, isn’t sure his mind isn’t just playing tricks on him, or that it isn’t just the team forcing Lewis to come up with all this to retain a favourable relationship between the two soon-to-be-teammates.

His doubt must show on his face as Lewis continues his speech, “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. I understand now that the way I’ve gone about things was stupid.”

He shuffles even closer to him, their faces separated only by a few centimetres.

“Will you let me try?”

It will take more than one sweet-talk, but as Lewis’ lips connect with his own, he can feel a weight lifting off his shoulders and a seed of hope begins to grow in his heart.