2019 rookies , carbono, lawbon, britcedes intertwined hands , Lewis's long asf arms , 1644 for the third time together, yuki trapped in the Ferrari drivers sandwich , isack and Lawson holding hands under the table, Gabi with max , Franco smiling like those pictures your family took when you were baby, kimi looking like Carlos' son , Pierre and Esteban , Oscar said tf are those white and black shirts, 44 & 33(making scenes in my head rn) , George between landoscar.
That's all i noticed, is there anything else you see??
I am very fond of gewis, so anything sweet between the two of them?
I've been waiting for this!! So warning this is a wing au fic because I love them and you can't stop me! It takes place vaugely in 2025 late season but no race is mentioned! Please enjoy the Gewis feels and this fic!
Nestled Deep Inside
Gewis - 1170 words - 6344 - SFW - Ao3 Link - Read Below :]
George was plenty happy with a new teammate, really he was. Kimi was a lovely boy. He was kind and eager, kind of like George had been back in the day. Rough around the edges and so young, he still had little fluff feathers when they had officially become teammates. The wings of a swift, impressive and light. Like he was born to be a racer, and George was happy for him. It was a new thing, to have a teammate who was so eager and inexperienced. Being the more experienced driver was something he enjoyed a lot, he felt like he was finally truly proving he deserved to be here.
It was different with Lewis, who guided him with nothing but kindness. He always felt small next to him, despite being the taller of the two. Something about Lewis was so deeply comforting that it nestled inside George’s chest and stayed there. George loved being his helper and opponent all at once, he was ecstatic the first time he beat him, he cheered for Lewis when he won. It was a good match. George was happy for him now, Ferrari was many young boys’ dreams.
The problem was not losing Lewis to another team, and it wasn’t Kimi either. George just felt like something small had fallen out of him and he had no idea where to find it. He held no resentment! He wasn’t overly upset over the parting. Something was just off, like the whole world had tilted off balance. It wasn’t a big issue, just something uncomfortable. No worse then cutting a nail too short. It wasn’t painful, or noticeable to an outside eye. Something was simply absent. George would just have to get over that.
Especially today, qualifying. George needed to be focused. Which he decidedly wasn’t, given that two steps into the paddock had him with a faceful of owl feathers- Thanks Toto.
“George! What’s the matter with you?” His boss’s voice followed him as he continued forward. George just waved behind himself.
“Sorry Toto!” He calls back. Aware of how his feathers are all ruffled now, he flicks out his wings with a grumble. This day is just going to be one of those days, he’s sure of it now. He just weaves through the team. Heading to go get ready and hopefully get his head in the damn game.
A couple media duties later and George is getting dressed in his room. Staring into the mirror in his fire proofs. He knows that- objectively- he looks good. He’s not visibly tired, his skin is flawless, his hair is about to be smothered by a balaclava. His wings flap behind him, smooth and soft. The wings of a mourning dove, well groomed and soft. They’re nothing flashy, no bright colors nor a massive wingspan. Simple, understated. George used to love them, but now he just felt indifferent. Nothing special, nothing that screamed racing star like Max and his stupid falcon wings. He wasn’t intimidating like Fernando’s osprey wings. He didn’t have the drop dead gorgeous pink flamingo colors like Franco. They were plain, he was plain.
Learning to fit them in the Mercedes car was funny. You can always trust Mercedes to have some funny different system for their drivers. Lewis had helped him funnily enough. Those gorgeous black swan wings were harder to handle than George’s. Still, he remembers kind hands slotting his feathers into place and walking him through everything. Something about that makes his head hurt. No time for that nonsense. George just zips up his racesuit and goes.
- - -
Qualifying did what Qualifying does. That’s to say, George did fairly poorly. P7 in a Mercedes wasn’t bad- but it also wasn’t entirely forgivable. Neither was being outperformed by your rookie teammate and a Haas. So, that not great mood wasn’t getting any better.
Really, this was getting annoying. He was annoyed, that he was annoyed. So it made this sort of uncomfortable feedback loop that felt itchy all over. He was sweaty from the car, but the night was cool so he was cold all over. He was thirsty and hungry and sick of it all. George just tried to stay focused. He was snappier than intended with the media, he was mostly quiet through debrief, and he was cordial and gave his congratulations to Kimi. He did all the things he was supposed to do before going to gather his belongings and get out of here.
Digging his things out of his bag was a usual challenge, given he stuffed a spare jacket and other things in there pretty often to crowd up the space, but today he gave up and just turned the thing upside down. Dislodging his paddock pass to get out, his phone, and a large black feather. It landed in George’s hand softly and put a stop to his frustrated movements.
It takes a moment to recognize, as George has had this bag forever so the feather could really be anybody’s. The feel of it though, that George recognizes instantly. It’s Lewis’s, that sleek black softness had to be his. He remembered what it felt like to have that massive swan wing wrapped around his side in a side hug, to be enveloped in nothing but comfort.
Comfort. That was it wasn’t it. Gentleness and care. Kindness. That’s what George missed. He missed it all, and he missed it coming from Lewis.
He abandoned his bag there in the drivers room and ran. Cutting past a dozen people who asked him what the hell he was doing. He passed everyone from Mercedes and ducked straight into Ferrari. He apologized to the security people and swore it was urgent. He was tearing up enough that nobody gave him too much grief about it. From there it was a bit of stumbling before slamming straight into the driver’s room.
“George-?” Lewis turns around, clearly confused to see him. Lewis did worse then George, so really why was he here crying to him. All of a sudden he felt stupid and small and empty.
He tries to talk, explain himself at all, but all he finds are tears. Reaching for Lewis and just praying he understood.
By the grace of Something, he does. Warm arms pull him closer and soft wings wrap around him. He’s held so tightly and it feels like becoming whole again. Lewis cards gentle fingers through George’s feathers. He coos at him softly like everything is okay when it’s not. Except maybe it is now.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, ducking down into Lewis’s shoulder.
Lewis just chuckles, “Nothing to be sorry about. I get it, feels like the world’s falling apart.”
“I missed you,” slips out of George's mouth without permission. It gives them both pause, and when George pulls back slightly, Lewis brings a hand up to his face. Gently thumbing away tears.
“I missed you too, dove.” It sounds like a promise, and George feels like the world just clicked into place.
A.N: Okay this is my favorite yet!!! I really love this little AU i've constructed and will likely be visiting it again! I hope you enjoyed, and if you have any wing fic ideas for another pairing- or just ideas in general! Please hit up my ask box, it's always open!
'Cause when I'm with him, I am thinking of you
(thinking of you, thinking of you)
Thinking of you
What you would do if
You were the one who was spending the night
