Chapter Text
The media had all sorts of speculation about where Lewis had been during the winter break. Rumors that he was retiring, that he was incapable of dealing with the fact that Max had beaten him. Which, yeah, his sudden radio silence, it might have something to do with Max, but not in the way they were thinking. And he wasn’t even sure yet. It could be completely unrelated to what he’d been doing with Max throughout the season. He hoped so. Just thinking about Max now made him feel hot, and he was glad the doctor wasn’t in the room as a strange sort of keening whine pushed through his lips. See? That wasn’t normal. He shouldn’t be half hard just from the thought of the other alpha. Yeah, they’d fucked pretty much every weekend of the season, he liked Max, but that kind of reaction was a little extreme, wasn’t it?
By the time the doctor returned, he had regained some sort of composure. He still felt achy and too hot, like he was cramping between his legs, but that was the whole reason he was here. The doctor had a strange look on her face, like she didn’t know if she was delivering good or bad news. “Hello, Lewis.”
He was grateful for the familiarity, that she didn’t call him Mr. Hamilton or sir. It was comforting. “Hello. Will I live?” A small joke, to relieve the tension.
It worked, and she smiled. “Of course you will.” A certainty. An undeniable fact. Whatever was wrong with him, it wasn’t life threatening. That was comforting, too. “Now, I have a few questions for you, and I need you to be very honest with me, alright?” Less comforting, but Lewis nodded. “Lewis have you had sex with another alpha on a regular basis at any point in the last year?”
Every thought flew right out of his head. How did she know? He must have nodded, though, because she continued. “Ok. And would I be right in assuming that your partner ejaculated in you more often than you ejaculated in them?” And he could remember a couple times when Max had bottomed, but it didn’t feel right. For Max, at least, Lewis had bottomed and loved it. Another nod, though. He had to hand it to her, she was being very professional as she asked a grown man about his sexual habits. And she looked sympathetic, tender as she set aside her clip board. “Alright, Lewis” and she kept saying his name like it was grounding. Like it would make what came next easier. “What happened to you is very rare, a sort of genetic holdover from our ancestors. Back in our more primitive days, if there was a population that was low on omegas, certain alphas would be chosen to become the omegas for the pack. To ensure the pack’s survival. The selected alpha became an omega after a long enough time of being ejaculated into, able to go into heat and carry pups for the pack. Completely indistinguishable from someone who had been born an omega. This practice faded with time, and not every alpha is capable of it now, but it does happen. The medical term is Coactus Repositione, or Forced Reassignment Syndrome.”
“You’re talking about bitching.” Which was impossible because it was a myth. An urban legend told to alphas to scare them into keeping up the societal norms of alpha/omega relationships instead of alpha/alpha. It wasn’t real.
But the doctor looked disappointed, like using the term itself was disappointing. “We don’t like to call it that.” And he could now smell disappointment in her scent. That was something else he’d noticed, his sense of smell had gotten stronger since around Monza. After Max had ended up on top of him, after Max had then been on top of him, that was when symptoms had started to build. Lewis' sense of smell had improved so gradually he'd barely noticed. Barely noticed until Abu Dhabi, until he was overwhelmed by the sharp scent of triumph from the Red Bull garage. Even on the podium his head had been spinning. He'd tried to tell himself that it was due to the emotions of the day, that he was just overwhelmed. But it hadn't gone away. He could smell Toto's anger, his disappointment, and had shied away from it, wanting to disappear. Was Toto angry with him? He hadn't settled until it became clear that the Mercedes Team Principal was angry with the Race Director, not with Lewis himself. “But yes, that is the slur that is used for it.”
He didn’t like using it any more than she seemed to like hearing it, but that was what she was talking about. Bitching. The stuff of porn. Bad porn. And this couldn’t be it. His life couldn’t be the plot of a bad porn. He was Lewis Hamilton. Seven time world champion. A generation defining racer. He was an alpha. Had always been an alpha. “How– how do I go back?” Because there had to be a way, right? If there was a way for an alpha to become an omega, there had to be a treatment, a procedure, to go the other way. Money wasn’t an object, if that was what it took. He had plenty of money, didn’t know what to do with his salary most of the time. What was it there for if not to solve problems like this?
But the doctor, an omega because he could tell that now with his stronger sense of smell, looked at him, an infinite amount of sadness in her eyes. She knew what kind of news she had delivered now, that it was the bad kind, the kind that ruined a life, left it in pieces on the floor. “There isn’t a way to go back.”
Everything else she said was seen and heard through a layer of water. Everything was fuzzy, distorted. He was fairly certain he begged at one point. Begged for her to do something, run a different test. There was obviously something else that was wrong with him. He was an alpha. And she kept trying to explain, pointing to symptoms he hadn’t even told her about. The enhanced smell? Omegas had a stronger sense of smell than alphas, allowing them to pick up on danger, nurture the needs of others more effectively. Alphas only had that sort of sense when attached to a singular omega. Omegas could pick out the designations of others with near perfect accuracy, another layer of protection to help them steer clear of any hostile alphas. He’d been wearing larger clothing lately, snuggling into them. A nest without a nest, a way for an omega to bring the comfort of a nest with them when feeling particularly uncomfortable. She started to mention anatomy, too. That his anatomy would be different. And it wasn’t like he examined his dick, but, yeah, now that he was thinking about it, the knot at the base, though not particularly pronounced outside of a state of arousal, well, he hadn’t seen it. But that wasn’t the only change. She started to explain more, but he’d been with an omega before. He knew they had a different setup. He couldn’t– she broke off, and Lewis, in a disconnected way, wondered if she had scented his distress. Because he was in distress. She wasn't trying to be cruel, to destroy his entire world. And she hadn't been the one to do this to him, she just had the unfortunate responsibility to tell him how he'd wrecked his life. How he and Max had wrecked his entire life. Of course, thinking of Max made him feel even more distressed, a low whine slipping out as heat curled through him. It wasn't fair, this reaction to Max, not when he was fairly certain the Dutchman wanted nothing more to do with him than a quick fuck. "Are you close with the alpha?"
"Ma--" he stopped himself, the name wanting so desperately to be spoken aloud, brought into this space. But this doctor was no fool. She knew who Lewis was, she would know who Max was if he did allow the name into the space between them. And no one could ever know. Know one could know that Lewis, one of the most dominant alphas in the history of F1, had let a championship rival fuck him until Lewis was an omega. No one could ever know he was an omega (not that Lewis was admitting that he was yet, but no one could even know it was a possibility), and certainly no one could know it was Max that had been fucking him, filling him up until all Lewis wanted was to sleep, curled in his alpha's arms-- no. Max? His alpha? Absolutely not. How could he even be thinking that? Even consider it? And yet now that he'd thought it, it was as if the thought had taken up permanent residence in his mind, a litany of my alpha, my alpha, my alpha on a repeat in the background of his mind, a backdrop for all other thoughts. Max, his alpha, had fucked him until he was an omega, his omega, perfectly made for Max, by Max. "N-no. No it was just a casual thing."
And now she sounded distressed. Which that wasn't fair because this was happening to him, not to her. And he was about to be offended until he riddled out, by scent alone, that she was concerned for him. "Oh. Oh dear. Do you have an alpha you can trust? Someone who can help you?" And he wanted to ask why he would need anyone to help him. Because this was modern times, omegas didn't need minding, didn't need to be looked after. Just look at Daniel! Omega, and perfectly capable of taking care of himself, of challenging any alpha on the grid when he had a car capable of his skill. Except-- he had helped Daniel, hadn't he? A few years ago, during a summer break, when the omega could feel a particularly rough heat coming, had asked Lewis to help him through it. Except--no. That wasn't-- he couldn't. He shook his head. No alpha. "Oh. Oh dear." She picked her clipboard back up, looked though a few pages, and finally started writing on a few slips of paper, tearing them off the notepad and setting them to the side before she looked back to him. "Lewis, the symptoms you described are perfectly normal. For an omega. An omega approaching their heat. I'm writing you a prescription for heat aids, birth control, and suppressants. Do not take the suppressants until after the heat breaks, that is very important, alright? And I recommend getting a toy, something to help you through it. A first heat tends to be mild, but it will still be unpleasant without some sort of relief."
The rest of the appointment was a blur, but he couldn't fault the doctor for her thoroughness. She explained everything, probably more than was technically within the realm of medical assistance. Lewis got the impression it was because she was an omega, that this was something omegas did for each other. Taught each other, took care of each other. It made his head spin as much as the thought of different anatomy did. Different anatomy that, if he didn't want to spend two to five days in discomfort bordering on pain, he was going to have to do something with. He was going to have to touch himself, and, if all of this was true, if it was real and not just a sick joke, not a fever dream he would wake up from, he would feel his knotless dick, slip his fingers through his own slick, into his pussy.
And that was still on his mind as he stumbled out of the office finally, seeing Angela waiting in the lobby as she had been for nearly three hours now. His prescriptions were clutched in his hand, but she didn't ask. She didn't ask when they went to the pharmacy and he was handed heat aids, birth control, and suppressants. She didn't ask when they got to the car and he wordlessly handed her the keys, unable to even think of driving in the state he was in. She didn't ask when he sat on the passenger side, curling into himself. She didn't ask when they got home and he sat on the couch, the medications lined up on the table. She didn't ask when he started to cry, she just held him as he sobbed, as he began to realize the extent of his mistakes with Max.
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There was one more thing, one final push to this transformation he could do nothing to stop. Because it had already started. He'd been feeling it for months, not knowing what it was, not knowing that it was already too late to stop it. That had been a lot of discussion with the doctor, Lewis using the fact that his anatomy hadn't changed as an argument that he couldn't be an omega. The male omega had a dick still, capable of everything an alpha dick was except for knotting and creating pups. But, the male omega also had a pussy. Lewis didn't have that. Not that he was keeping an eye on it, but he would be able to tell. Like he could tell his knot was gone. Could tell his dick was just a bit smaller than it had been.
Except, as she pointed out, he'd come in complaining of cramping, of pain between his legs. Pain that was now ripping through him, making him whimper and shake, pressing his legs together as if that would help, as if that would stop it. It didn't, and the pain continued, The pain of his pussy, developing since he crossed the point of no return, finally making itself known, his body going through the final push of his transformation. It was bizarre, feeling his own body change, feeling it pulse, twist, and finally, after hours, settle. Settle into what it now would forever be.
His fingers shook as he reached between his legs, not wanting to know what he would find but unable to stop the curiosity. He needed to know, to feel for himself. He could already feel it, the empty feeling he'd only ever known when Max pulled out of him. Would he always feel this empty? He could feel the heat pooling between his legs, spreading so quickly that he felt as if he was aflame by the time his fingers touched-- his pussy. Fully formed, fully accessible, waiting to be stretched and filled and knotted. He groaned as his fingertips skimmed over the folds, gasped as he felt slick build, only spilling out of him when he found the rim. He pulled his finger away, looked at it glistening with slick, his slick. His slick that his body now made when aroused. And the heat was still building, his breath hitching as another cramp rocked through him. And he was so empty. So fucking empty.
Max.
Where was Max?
Max should be here. His alpha should be telling him how good he was doing, tasting his slick, slipping his fingers into his pussy, rumbling as he told Lewis that he was already so open, so ready. His alpha should be here to help him. And Lewis cried again, knowing he was teetering on the edge, a balancing act he was doomed to lose. Lewis cried out, felt another pulse of heat, another rush of slick, and began his first heat.
And that first heat was hell. From the information his doctor had given him, historically, the new omegas were already bred by the end of their first heat, already carrying a pup for their alpha. In the midst of that heat, he'd wanted that, wanted to carry a pup, Max's pup. He'd cried more, empty and wanting, begging the empty room for Max, wondering if he was a bad omega. Because his alpha didn't come. Not that Lewis had gotten a chance to reach out to Max before his pussy had finished developing, before he'd been slammed into his first heat. Max would've come, right? If he'd known, he would have come?
The heat itself was hell. Lewis was terrified to touch himself, to fully feel the weight of the transformation that had taken place. He had to accept it now, the fact that he was an omega. He was in heat, he had a pussy, and when he wrapped his hand around his dick there was no knot. He was an omega, but he couldn't bring himself to touch anything. Angela, because she was an angel, had come by to bring him food, to make sure he had water. To bring him a dildo. And he was never going to live that down, his trainer and friend bringing him a dildo because he was an omega going through his first heat alone. And he'd stared at it, unable to each reach toward it. It had gone on and on, and he'd stroked his own cock a few times, just for a release.
Even without the knot, it was familiar enough; it wasn't this strange new world he found himself in. But it wasn't enough. He never felt filled, never truly felt relieved. On and on it went, and finally, on day six, instinct took over. It wouldn't end, couldn't end, until he could come around something. Anything. Still, not the dildo. He was too far gone by that point anyway, unable to stomach even the delay of reaching for it, figuring out how to use it. No, instead, he slipped his hands beneath the waistband of his sweats, bypassing his dick altogether. He yelped as fingertips found his soaked center, hips pivoting for more contact as his fingers pushed down. It felt--- good. In a detached, heat hazed way he could acknowledge it felt good, that this was what he had been craving even if he would pretend it hadn't happened later. And his fingertips explored for a moment, teasing over the soft folds, around the rim that was begging to be stretched, knotted. He couldn't knot himself, but-- the thought seized him and he was helpless to resist.
One finger slid easily into his hole, and he whined because it wasn't enough. He was so open, so ready, that one digit wasn't enough. A second joined, and, yes, this was getting better, his core holding tight to his fingers as he rode against them, the fingers of his other hand still stroking back and forth. Better, but not enough, not stretched, not full, not-- A third finger, and yes, yes that was-- oh. He pistoned his fingers, his foggy mind remembering an omega partner that had purred when he'd done this to them, when he-- when he spread his fingers apart and he filled himself as much as he could. It almost wasn't enough, in truth it wasn't nearly enough as instincts begged for a knot, but it was enough to feel himself spasm around his moving fingers, to still his body as his back arched and his toes curled and his mouth was frozen open in silent pleasure, eyes closed as he rode his own orgasm. It wasn't what his instincts wanted, but it was enough to sate them. His first heat broke after six days, and Lewis had never felt so tired, or so alone.
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Lewis felt stupid. Stupid for believing it could end up any other way. Not that part, the bitching part. Because that part had always been an urban legend he'd never believed in until it happened to him. He still had moments that he found it difficult to believe, despite the physical proof, the extra pills Angela now carried with her, the scent blockers he'd gotten into the habit of applying. Since that first appointment, he'd spoken to the doctor a few more times, trying to learn everything he could about how this had happened to him. In the old days, when bitching was more common, the chosen alpha would be fucked by several members of the pack, filled over and over and the process still took a minimum of three months to reach a point of no return. With everything he'd learned, Lewis can only guess his point of no return had been Monza.
He could remember it so clearly, Max's car on top of his, feeling like he couldn't breathe despite the halo of his car had kept him from injury. He'd had no idea then what was coming for him. But symptoms had started then. After the crash he'd felt like someone was blowing hot air onto his skin, he'd felt twitchy and unsettled. He and Max had found each other not long after the crash, after the medical team had cleared them but before the debriefs with their respective teams. They had collided violently, and Lewis wishes now that he had punched Max instead of grabbing him by the front of his race suit, pulling him in to kiss him. It had been reckless even then, even more reckless when Max had pushed him into a bathroom, locked the door, and fucked him against a wall. The twitchiness stopped after that, after Max filled him up, his come still leaking out of Lewis during the debrief with Mercedes. Yeah, that had to have been it. If it hadn't been for Monza, if they'd stopped before then, Lewis would still be an alpha. The doctor, the same omega that had broken the news to him, had explained about the pseudo-heat, the point of no return. The symptoms matched what he'd experienced at Monza perfectly.
But he wasn't stupid for that. He didn't have any idea bitching could actually happen. No, he was stupid for thinking any of it was real, that Max would stay, that it was anything more than another part of the competition they'd both been locked in. Lewis had reached out after that first heat, had finally gotten Max on the phone in February. Two months after Lewis' transformation had completed. He'd been, he was ashamed to admit, following what Max was up to on social media. Celebrating. Celebrating his victory. A few of the shots featured Daniel, even one where the omega was kissing Max's cheek. Lewis hated the spike of jealousy that curled in him. Max and Daniel had never hidden how affectionate they were, and when Lewis was an alpha, it had never bothered him. Now, as an omega, his instincts screaming that Max was his alpha, Lewis hated that picture. And he was ashamed that, for a moment, he hated Daniel. But February, finally, Max picked up the phone when Lewis called.
"What, Lewis?" Max asked, already sounding annoyed. He couldn't see the alpha, but he could picture the look on his face. The thought that he had annoyed Max made Lewis whimper, barely moving the phone away in time to keep Max from hearing the sound.
How was he supposed to ask this? Because if Max had any genuine affection for him, surely he would have picked up the phone earlier, right? He would have texted or something. He could forgive Max if this was all an accident, if it was just something that happened, neither one of them having any intention to make such a life changing mistake. But each day of silence had fallen like a stone in his stomach. If Max liked him, wanted to be with him, he would reach out. So the other option-- had Max done this on purpose? To distract him from the race? "Max," he hated that there was a note of longing in his voice. "are you in Monaco? Can we meet up? We need to talk."
The line was quiet, like he was considering. "No, I'm in Belgium. What do you need? Everyone is saying you're going to retire." And the small tone of concern gave Lewis hope. Stupid.
"I'm not retiring. Have to come challenge you for the title." It was nice, that hadn't changed. He still felt the drive to win, to race. He still had that part of himself even if he now had a dildo in the drawer of his bedside table. Still unused. "But-- Max," well, if they couldn't meet up, might as well just get this over with, "why did you fuck me?"
Another pregnant pause, dead air. "What?" the alpha hissed. "What the fuck kind of question is that?"
It took a lot of will to ignore those new instincts that wanted him to smooth things over, not make his alpha upset. "Max did you like me, or was it just to distract me from the races?"
The new round of silence was everything he needed to know. The truth was quiet. "We were letting off steam, weren't we? Lewis, we're both alphas. If you were distracted that isn't my fault." Deflecting. Because maybe Max thought that Lewis was trying to blame the fucking for losing the championship. But it had cost him so much more than that.
"We're not." And fuck he hated that Max asked him what he meant by that. "We're not both alphas, Max." And Max was quiet as Lewis explained, told him what the doctor had told Lewis back in December. He didn't go into detail about lying in bed waiting for his own pussy to present, the heat that followed. Max could fill in his own gaps.
Max was breathing hard, almost panicked, and Lewis heard him ask, "It worked?" before the line went dead.
Max had fucked him, and Max had fucked him. Max had bitched him to distract him from racing. He had done this on purpose, and now that Lewis was firmly Omega, Max wanted nothing to do with him. He made that clear from the radio silence for the rest of the break. They lived in the same city, and Max made sure he was never there, that they would never run into each other. And Lewis' body was screaming for him, desperate for his alpha after not seeing him since Abu Dhabi. Before that phone call, Lewis could pretend that everything would be alright. That Max would be his alpha, he would be Max's omega, and they would figure things out. But that was just some bullshit omega drive, something he now needed to ignore. Because Max didn't need time, Max needed to stay the fuck away from Lewis. Because Lewis wanted to do more than punch him in the face.
The rest of winter, he waited for the other shoe to drop. VERSTAPPEN'S BITCH: THE DOWNFALL OF LEWIS HAMILTON. He'd been dreading a headline along those lines all winter. He'd shut himself away, watching rumors fly of his retirement, about Mercedes challenging the results, but nothing about his designation. Nothing to clue in the world that he wasn't an alpha anymore. So far, it seemed only Lewis, Max, Angela, and Lewis' doctor were aware of what happened. The physical traits were easy enough to hide. Alpha and omega scent glands were nearly identical in appearance, even if he expected people to comment on his appearance. That he looked softer. He'd worried about that, that the new physicality would keep him from racing. Angela had scoffed and listed off the omegas on the grid. Daniel. Charles. Pierre. Lando. Mick. Yuki. Nicholas. All of them fierce racers. Omega bodies were just as capable as alpha bodies, and they switched up his training routine to adjust for different muscle distribution.
Yet, for all the preparation he'd done during the winter, he didn't feel ready at Bahrain. Racing felt the same during testing, the controls familiar, but there was something new. He hadn't realized before just how much stronger the omega sense of smell was, and now he could pick out the scent of each driver around him on the circuit. It was how he knew it was Max's Red Bull that had retired before Bono's voice confirmed it. Lap 54 and Max was out of the race. It was almost as if Lewis could feel his displeasure, the rage he knew would be rolling off Max at the mechanical retirement. He hated those, being forced to retire when he had done everything right. Lewis could barely focus on his own third place finish, his own triumph, mind too focused on finding Max, making sure he was alright.
He couldn’t focus on his finishing position until he was on the podium, beside Charles. Charles the Ferrari driver, Charles the three time race winner, Charles the omega. He felt a swell of pride, only to have it shuttered to confusion when Charles turned his gaze sharply toward Lewis. He could scent Charles' confusion as he looked at Lewis, the inspection only ending as Monaco's anthem beg to play. Then the scent was all happy champagne bubbles followed by actual champagne. What had happened there? Lewis had the most powerful scent blocker possible, Charles couldn't scent him, could he? But his mind turned back to Max before long. He set the trophy down in the Mercedes garage, was on his way out the door.
"Lewis!" He barely had time to react before a head of dark curls pressed against him. Daniel. Daniel who had been hanging out with Max. Not just during the winter, when he'd kissed Max's cheek. More recently. Lewis could smell the scent of Max clinging to the orange McLaren race suit. A low growl slipped out before Lewis could stop it. Daniel had been hugging him, kneeling a little so his head fit under Lewis' chin. At the sound of the growl, Daniel stiffened, slowly backing up, hands raised to show he didn't intend to be a threat. Guilt washed over him. He'd scared Daniel? And just like Charles, Daniel looked confused for a moment, like he couldn't understand something. "Sorry, mate. Just wanted to say hi. Didn't get to talk much in Barcelona, yeah? And this weekend has been so crazy. You ok?"
What was happening here? Daniel was still looking at him like he was trying to puzzle something out. "Yeah, man, I'm fine." Had the champagne washed away some of the scent blockers? Or had he just underestimated how sensitive the omega sense of smell was? "Did you have a good winter?" Because pleasantries was exactly what he wanted to be doing right now, not going to check on Max, to make sure his alpha was alright. No. Not his alpha, an alpha. A fellow driver. He would check on Sergio, too. But now Daniel was rambling on, talking as they walked toward Lewis' motorhome. Asking to see Roscoe, and Lewis was again being stupid and agreeing. Stupid because he had forgotten what he'd been doing in his motorhome the night before. Daniel stepped in, immediately searching for the bulldog.
And then stopping. Looking. Examining. Because on Lewis' bed was scattered several blankets and jackets. Arranged to resemble a nest. Because Lewis had, to little success, been practicing. Thinking that maybe learning to build a nest would help him with this. He'd seen the way omegas looked in their nest, all relaxed and at peace. Lewis' poor attempt at a nest had just made him more stressed. And now Daniel was looking at it. Judging it. And Lewis had seen Daniel's nests! They were perfect! Perfectly woven blankets along with shirts and jackets of trusted friends. Big enough that anyone could join (though he might have had trouble getting Esteban in there with his long legs). And now he was looking at Lewis' poor attempt, judging it, probably thinking that Lewis was a piss poor omega, that he would never make his alpha happy. Maybe Daniel was even glad that Lewis would be less competition for Max. Maybe he thought-- "Had someone over before a race?" He sounded like mischief. "Didn't know you had it in you, Lewis."
Oh. Right. Daniel wouldn't think Lewis was a piss poor omega, because Daniel thought he was an alpha. After all, Lewis had knotted Daniel on more than one occasion, though most notably during the summer break he'd helped Daniel through his heat. He'd knotted Daniel several times, but the Australian omega had made it fun, no awkward moments or misplaced intensity. A friend helping a friend. If Lewis was still an alpha, if he'd ever had an interest in mating, he could see himself settling down with someone like Daniel. Because there was never a dull moment with Daniel, the days always filled with laughter and the sunshine he seemed to carry around in his pockets.
A moan rang out in the room, lewd and loud, followed by a quick swear from Daniel. "Fuckers," he laughed dragging out his phone from where he'd stuffed it into his race suit. He gave it half of his attention, the other half devoted to kneeling on the floor, giving Roscoe his due pets. "Grid omega group chat," Daniel explained, with a shrug that read 'what are you gonna do about it?' "Pretty sure Lando or Pierre changed the tone while I was doing press."
Group chat? They had a group chat? Lewis hadn't known that, and maybe later he would be suspicious that Daniel had told him about it in the first place. He'd never told Lewis about it before, so why would he now? Unless it was a new thing. "Everything ok?" As an alpha he would ask because instinct told him to protect the omegas. As an omega, he found he wanted to help if anything was wrong. Not completely different impulses.
But Daniel grinned before placing several quick kisses between Roscoe's ears. "Omega business, my dear alpha. Top secret. If I told you, I'd have to kill you." And Daniel smelled…excited? Lewis wasn’t sure if that was the right name for the candy floss bright scent swirling around his motorhome now, but it was at least the closest he figure. Whatever was going on in that group chat, it couldn’t be too bad if Daniel was now all smiles, all happy tension. Funny, he hadn’t noticed the tension in his shoulders until he relaxed, reassured, almost comforted, by Daniel’s happiness. Well, it had always been hard to be tense around a happy Danny Ric anyway.
Lewis was settling into the idea that maybe not everything had changed as Daniel gave Roscoe one final ear ruffle, stood, and, crossing to Lewis, pressed his nose to Lewis’ neck. Lewis froze. It wasn’t– it wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t abnormal, Daniel casually scenting him. He shouldn’t be reacting this way, he knew that, and forced himself to slip gentle fingers into Daniel’s soft curls, leaning his own head against Daniel’s. Just as he would have done as an alpha, providing gentle comfort, companionship, a reassurance that they were good. Because they were good. Lewis didn’t want to cut ties, didn’t want things to change between them. Whatever Daniel got from the gesture, from the inhale Lewis could feel him take against his neck, apparently he was of the same mind. Pulling away, the Australian placed a sloppy kiss to his cheek, smiling as he promised, “See you later, Lewis!” And then he was gone, shutting the motorhome door behind him, leaving Lewis unbearably alone.
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It wasn’t until Australia that anything else strange happened. He didn’t notice the way Daniel looked at him in Saudi Arabia, as if studying him. As if trying to figure out a riddle. In Australia, though, Daniel was wholly preoccupied with the feeling of being home. Things felt normal. Calm despite the frantic energy that always pooled around race weekends. It felt like things were before. He could exist without feeling like a tightly coiled spring. Even the relentless need to find Max was beginning to fade, though he’d been warned it could come in waves. For now, he would enjoy the respite. He was relaxing, enjoying the Australian sunshine, sprawled in an isolated patch of grass. Alone until someone tripped over his outstretched legs. Lewis looked up immediately, dreading who he would find.
“Sorry, sorry,” the words were immediate, Lewis hadn’t even gotten a chance to see who it was. But he knew.
Valtteri.
The Finn steadied himself, but looked confused, looking down at what– who he’d tripped over. “Lewis?” They hadn’t gotten much of a chance to speak yet, Valtteri busy with his new team and Lewis focused on keeping his new designation a secret. Which meant that Lewis hadn’t interacted with the grid as much as he usually would. But Valtteri, well, the alpha smiled, and shifted, placing himself between Lewis and the sun. So Lewis didn’t have to squint into the sun to look at him. “Sorry, I thought I smelled someone making coffee around here.”
Lewis– well, Lewis hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Valtteri. George was a great teammate, eager to do well, to be a good teammate, but there was an easy rapport with Valtteri even if the two had gotten distant in the later portion of last season. Valtteri preparing to switch teams and Lewis preoccupied with the championship and Max. He regretted that now, drifting away, letting them drift apart. He missed Valtteri. “You thought someone was making coffee in a grass patch?”
And Valtteri smiled wider. As much as he was portrayed as impassive, Valtteri really did have a nice smile. His presence was calming, it didn’t detract from the relaxation Lewis had been seeking in the first place, and he wasn’t upset when the alpha lowered himself, stretching out beside Lewis to join in the serenity. Finding calm places was never easy on a race weekend, and many spots were jealously guarded. A spot to get away from the hustle and bustle, a space for omegas to escape the cacophony of scents, for alphas to calm down for a moment. They were rarely shared, but Lewis found he didn’t mind. Valtteri’s steady presence only increased the calm atmosphere.
“It smells like it! I swear, it feels like someone held a fresh cup under my nose!” He was laughing, and Lewis found himself laughing along. It felt like it had been an eternity since he’d laughed. With anyone else, they might feel pressured to fall into conversation, but they lapsed into silence, content to pass the time together. To relax. To only exist side by side for a moment.
It was probably the most relaxed Lewis had been all year.
—-----
By the time they got to Italy, to Emilia Romagna, Lewis was perhaps feeling cocky. The strange look from Charles, Daniel’s odd behavior, they were both far from his mind. He’d only had one day of an intense desire for Max since Australia, and, since the Dutch alpha had been far away at the time, it had been nothing more than a miserable day. Manageable with an afternoon of video games and petting Roscoe. He’d also, with the free weekend, practiced nest building a couple more times. While he still wasn’t comfortable with it, couldn’t bring himself to think of himself as an omega, the nesting instinct was there. Ever present. A quiet hum in the background of his mind that wasn’t unpleasant, like the desire for Max, but insistent nonetheless. And he didn’t have any particular issue with nesting. The times he’d spent in an omega’s nest had been relaxing, soothing in a way he’d never been able to replicate any other way. Did omegas feel that kind of peace in their own nests? He wanted to find out.
So now, in his motorhome, on his own bed, was a nest. It wasn’t perfect. The left side sagged and he couldn’t quite get the dimensions right so it wasn’t symmetrical, and it only included items with his own scent on them so he wasn’t sure it really gave the full effect of a nest. But, laying in it now, he could confirm ‘yes.’ Yes, it did give the same sort of peace. In fact, Lewis would say it was better than an alpha being in an omega’s nest. This was his nest. He’d built it with his own hands, his own effort. This was his own nest, and it felt like, here, nothing in the world could touch him, nothing could bother him. He didn’t have to worry about being an alpha or omega, about how the race had been (dismal, but he’d gained a place from the starting grid so he could at least be happy about that), the pressure of the next race in Miami. Here, in his nest, he could just relax.
Until the timid knock on his door.
His eyes, which he hadn’t even realized he’d shut, flew open. Who would be knocking at this hour? The race hadn’t ended that long ago, so many of the top drivers would still be celebrating, and he’d wrapped up all of his press duties for the night already. In the morning they’d start packing everything up for Miami. He didn’t want to get out of his nest, he wanted to enjoy this feeling, the little moment of peace he’d carved out of this bitching ordeal. One good thing, one bit of peace he could take for his own that didn’t have to involve anyone else. He did get out, though, because the knock came again and Lewis could pick up a desolate scent from the other side of the motorhome walls. Whoever was out there, they could at least use a friendly word.
Still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he rolled out of the nest, approaching the door and opening it just as Daniel was turning to walk away. It wasn’t often Lewis had seen the omega so dejected, and, usually, there was at least one other omega with him if he was feeling upset. And Lewis had never been able to smell his disappointment so acutely. “Danny? You want to come in? Roscoe won’t shut up about your belly rubs.”
Because no one liked to be reminded they were miserable. Better to give him an excuse to come in that didn’t taste like pity. Daniel turned back around, only nodding in response, and glumly made his way inside. He shivered like he was cold, and that was something else Lewis had learned. Some omegas felt temperature shifts more intensely when upset or distressed. He felt lucky that, so far, he didn’t seem to be one of them, but maybe Daniel was? Lewis stepped away for only a moment, collecting a blanket that hadn’t been used in the nest and returned to wrap it around the Australian’s shoulders. He seemed to relax a little, but still seemed distressed. “Sorry,” he said after several silent moments, looking at his feet instead of Lewis. “I know you were probably trying to get some sleep or something, but I didn’t really know who else to go to. Lando is with– and then Charles and Pierre– and Yuki– you know?”
And…no. No, Lewis didn’t know. Last time, after a race, it seemed like all the omegas celebrated together, and Lewis had been thinking about it for weeks. He assumed that would be where Daniel was now, celebrating with Lando both as a fellow omega and as his teammate. But Lando was with someone else? And then something about Charles, Pierre, and Yuki, though he wasn’t sure if those three went together or separately. “Hey, hey, its ok. We all have shit races, yeah?” And maybe he shouldn’t have done it, but he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Daniel, letting the omega press his nose against Lewis’ neck again. He just wanted Daniel to be ok, to not look like he was on the verge of crying. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that he’d already showered for the night, that the scent blockers had been washed away. They were next to his bed, ready to be reapplied in the morning, but he’d just fallen into his nest after his shower, all relaxed and boneless from the comfort of the nest. He hadn’t put the scent blockers back on. He didn’t–
Daniel inhaled, and went completely still.