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There’s a new tattoo artist over the road at Haminkton, Lewis Hamilton's eponymous tattoo studio, and Nico has never been more offended in his life.

It takes time for him to actually clap eyes on the new guy and confirm the rumour of his existence, but he heard it from Seb, who Nico trusts with all his Lewis Related Gossip because Seb’s boyfriend works at Haminkton too.

Charles, if Nico didn’t like the kid so much, would be on bloody thin ice for that alone.

So it goes like this:

Nico is sitting at his favourite table outside Seb’s cafe one morning, the seat that offers the best view of Haminkton, two doors down. And no, he’s not spying, OK? He just needs to keep an eye on the competition.

He’s eating one of Mick’s mind-blowing spinach and feta muffins for breakfast, and a latte with as many shots of espresso as George had felt legally comfortable putting in sits by his hand, steam curling into the air.

The morning sky is a happy spring blue. The jasmine Nico planted a few weeks back so that it will eventually climb the trellis around the yellow cafe door smells amazing. His coffee isn’t strong enough because of bloody George’s sensibilities. All in all there is nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary is about to happen.

Then Seb drops down in the seat opposite Nico with a coffee of his own, and his eyes are bright in the way they only get when he has gossip about a certain hot individual who runs the only tattoo parlour in their village.

“Have you heard?” Seb’s tone is always so smug when he gossips, because he knows Nico never hears anything first.

“Heard what?” Nico feigns disinterest, eyes him over his mug as he leans back in his seat, trying to look nonchalant.

“About the new guy?” Nobody smirks with quite as much self-satisfaction as Seb. It’s an art form.

“What new guy?”

“Lewis’ new guy.”

“Boyfriend?!” Not that Nico cares, and no, that’s not hysteria in his tone. It’s polite and professional interest, nothing more.

“No,” Seb murmurs with a frown. “New hire. There’s a new tattoo artist starting at Haminkton today.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nico hisses, dropping his mug back onto its sky blue saucer with a little less care than he should.

Lewis... Lewis is bloody cheating! Being up one more employee gives him an edge over Nico, and it is so bloody on.

Leaping to his feet and throwing his muffin crumbs to the sparrows that are hopping around the planter boxes and pavement, Nico half-runs across the road to his own store before he remembers to get a hold of himself and slows to a walk.

He can’t let Lewis, who is usually in his office that overlooks the street at this time, know that Nico’s on to him or that he’s rattled by the news.

But even arriving back into the safety of Roseberg’s is no comfort because Kimi has done the bare minimum before he opened at 9 am, in that  the lights are on and the door is unlocked.

Most of the stock isn’t out, the till isn’t turned on, the arrangements being collected by a client for her daughter’s engagement party that afternoon still aren’t finished, and to top it all off Kimi is dozing on a seat in the cool room where they store the flowers overnight.

“Kimi!” Nico snaps, shaking him awake. “Stop fooling around, it’s battle stations! You won’t believe what bloody Lewis has done!”

“What done?” Kimi grunts, cracking an eye open.

“He’s hired someone new!”

The announcement is met with nothing but a huff so Nico throws up his hands and resolves to just ignore him.

“Go and sort out those arrangements for Mrs. Taylor, if you’re not going to help me!”

Kimi doesn’t move.

By the time Nico is watching the tattoo parlour open for the day at 10 am, he is ready – so what if he specifically timed things to allow him to be at the window when his rival first appears? All’s fair in love and war. He’s set up the till, finished the engagement party flowers, and, conveniently, just happens to be placing several of Yuki’s ikebana arrangements in the window display.

Kimi has gone back to sleep.

As he fiddles with the direction of a vase holding a single sprig of olive, Nico watches Lewis’ trainee, who’s name he still hasn’t bothered to learn but looks to be about 10 years old, pull up the roller door of the parlour. Lewis himself is standing at the counter and he waves obnoxiously when he sees Nico staring at him. Not that Nico is staring at him.

All in all it’s anticlimactic, as there’s no sign of any new face for the whole day, leaving Nico to chew his bottom lip half to shreds out of stress. He rearranges the whole store, once with Kimi, who grumbles the whole time, then again with Nicky when he arrives after his classes are finished, just for the excuse to keep a close eye on Haminkton's door.

By 3 pm Nico can’t bloody stand it, and he’s just about to sneak across the road for a closer look in the window when Max wanders in for the closing shift, smiling dopily.

Nico regards him with suspicion. Max never smiles about anything. Ever.

“...What?”

“Nothing!”

“Why are you smiling?”

“Nothing, just... that new tattoo artist over the road. He’s cool, and funny. I’m booked in for a session with him on my next day off.”

“When were you there?! I never even saw you go in and I’ve been watching their door all day! Also, you traitor!” Nico growls.

When Max just blinks at him, Nico spins on his heel and storms out the door and over the road. He’s bloody had enough.

The 10-year-old is sitting behind the counter, and he looks up with a smile when Nico charges in.

“Welcome to Haminkton, how can I... Oh, hey, Nico!”

“I don’t know who you are, but go and get Lewis.”

“I mean I've worked here for almost half a year, but...OK?” The kid blinks at him, then climbs off his stool and ducks back through the curtain separating the shop-front from the parlour itself.

Lewis appears a few moments later, looking annoyed.

“Nico, I’m busy. Is this urgent?”

“How. Dare. You.”

“How dare I what?”

“Hire someone new!” Nico hisses.

“Dan? I needed another portrait specialist?” Lewis looks confused and it’s damn cute but Nico can’t get distracted. “I wasn’t aware I needed to consult with you on my recruitment decisions?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nico scoffs. “You only hired someone to get one over on me!”

“I really, really didn’t,” Lewis mutters, rolling his eyes, before he turns back to the parlour. “Have a nice rest of your day, Nico.”

“I see right through you!” Nico howls, before he stomps back out the door and across the road.

There is no way Lewis is going to win this.

*

The competition between Nico and Lewis has been going on ever since the stupidly attractive tattoo artist had moved to their village near Woking a year back and opened his parlour directly opposite Nico’s shop on the main street.

Why Lewis had chosen to come and set up a business in this area is beyond Nico. He’d made Max do some social media stalking and had found out that Lewis had previously worked at Toto’s, the most famous studio in London. He’d done pieces for actual celebrities, from the likes of Cara Delvingne and Rita Ora, to a few of the twinks from One Direction.

They’d become bitter rivals on Lewis’ very first day of opening. He’d come across the road to introduce himself to Nico, all smiling and friendly and handsome, with his braids and his gorgeous skin and his tattoos and his banter and his ass and his hands. And then he had promptly stolen business right from under Nico’s nose!

Like a snake. A hot snake. That steaks customers.

Nico had been on the shop floor helping a client select a bunch of flowers for his wife for their anniversary. Christian was trying to decide between bluebells, as a nod to his step-daughter, or pink peonies like Geri had carried on their wedding day.

Then Lewis had walked in, like a fucking vision of perfection that may or may not have made Nico's jaw hit the floor, and after introducing himself he had struck up conversation with them both.

“You wouldn’t happen to do cover-ups, would you?” Christian’s eyes had lit up at Lewis’ mention of his studio. “I’ve got an old and faded tattoo of an ex-girlfriend’s name... today’s my wedding anniversary, and I think nothing would make my wife happier than to see it gone!”

“Absolutely, man!” Lewis had grinned. “Come on over, I’ll sort you out right now!”

“Brilliant, thanks anyway, Nico,” Christian had clapped him on the shoulder, abandoned the bouquet choices on the counter, and walked straight out the door with Lewis.

Once Nico had recovered from his shock, he’d gone scrambling to find his employees.

“DID YOU GUYS SEE THAT?! We were just completely sabotaged!”

Kimi had been sweeping the cool room and Nicky was pruning a ficus tree in their little garden out the back.

“By that hot guy who’s just opened the tattoo studio! Lewis! Did you not hear? He just stole our customer away!” Nico carried on, when neither had reacted.

“Oh, a tattoo studio?” Nicky’s head finally popped up in interest. “Cool, I’ve been wanting to get...”

He cut off when he saw Nico’s expression, but the next time he’d come in for a shift his leg had been wrapped up to protect the fresh ink on his skin.

Nico’s own employee! Fraternizing with the enemy! Going behind enemy lines! Paying him with Nico’s money! Well, Nicky’s own hard-earned money (he’s a much better worker than Max and Kimi), but still. A year on and Nico still couldn’t fully forgive Nicky for his betrayal, though he had to admit the watercolour portrait of Nicky’s two dogs on the back of his left calf is really very well done.

What was grudgingly amazing was how well Lewis’ business had quickly started doing. Lewis had been almost immediately joined by Valtteri, his best friend from London, as a fellow artist. Seb’s boyfriend Charles, a qualified piercer who had been working at the chemist, had started at Haminkton at the end of their first month in business. After three months Lewis had recruited Pierre as another piercer and he had taken on the child Nico didn't know the name of as a trainee tattooist just six months back.

For some reason, Lewis pretended to never buy in to the rivalry that he himself had immediately established between their businesses since that first meeting, but Nico isn’t falling for his fake ignorance.

“I’m not standing for it,” he tells Seb that night, over red wine and Indian takeaway in the warmth of Seb and Charles’ flat above the cafe. “Lewis is not going to get away with this, Seb. It’s yet another dig at me!”

“You show him,” Seb nods as he eats.

“Wait, what’s Lewis done now?” Charles calls, from where he’s uncorking another bottle of Merlot at the granite kitchen counter.

“He hired someone new!” Nico snarls. “As if you don’t already know!”

“What, Dan?” Charles comes back out to the living room with the bottle and graciously pours for Nico first. He still looks confused though, bless him.

“It’s an attack on me, Charles,” Nico tells him pointedly, before he takes another mouthful of chicken muglai.

“Is it, though?” Charles asks.

“Yes! He’s only doing it to one up me! To make himself look better as a businessman!”

Charles opens his mouth to respond but Seb nudges him, and he seems to think better of it. As well he should.

*

After just a few days the new tattoo artist settles into the village well. Dan’s actually a nice guy, funny and Australian and exceedingly cheerful, not that Nico would admit to liking anyone who works for his enemy. Except for Charles. But Charles was Seb’s first, so that’s OK.

Besides, Nico’s got enough on his plate trying to think of a counter-attack; he can’t afford to recruit anyone new, and with wedding season now upon them he doesn’t have a lot of time spare to come up with any bright ideas or new plans.

He agonizes to Seb while sitting at the counter of his cafe on Friday, sulking over bites of an apricot danish that Mick has made, with pastry so perfect that it practically melts in his mouth. Seb leans opposite him, doing absolutely nothing of any use despite the 12:30 pm lunch rush.

George and Lance duck around their boss, trying to make drinks and serve food from the cabinet. Antonio is clearing the tables and throwing agonized looks Seb’s way. Seb just keeps playing with the string of his yellow apron, as he shrugs at Nico.

“You’ve got to think of something to come back at him, my friend.”

“Seb?” Mick pops his head out the door from the kitchen, tugging at his new industrial piercing with one hand. “I think you overpaid me?”

“Stop touching it, you’ll infect it,” Seb replies, before he leans in to Nico’s ear, voice pitched in undertone.

“Have you heard what Lewis is planning? Honestly, it’s clearly another direct shot at you! You can’t let him keep getting away with it, Nico!”

“By, like, several hundred, man-” Mick is saying. Seb waves him off non-committaly.

“What’s Lewis planning?” Nico hisses, eyes narrowing over his cappuccino. An expansion? Rebranding? Whatever it is, Nico has to do it first, he can’t let himself fall further behind.

“Spring promotion. Half price on all floral tattoos,” Seb’s grin is far too pleased, as he shoves Mick away from where he’d been tugging on his apron trying to get his attention.

Nico sees red.

“Spring...? But flowers are my thing! They’re my thing!”

“Seb, stop winding him up,” Mick grumbles, opening the till and taking money from his own wallet to add to it.

“It’s true! I had it straight from Charles,” Seb insists, as he reaches out without looking to catch Mick’s wrist and stop him.

Nico’s out the door and racing down to Lewis’ without even choosing to do it, even though he’s got three weddings tomorrow to prepare table arrangements and bouquets for, not to mention one of the couples wanting an arch decorated with red roses, and another pair wanting yellow tulips suspended from the ceiling of their reception venue.

“What’s this I hear about you pricks doing half price flower tattoos for spring!” Nico yells at the first person he sees once he bursts inside the parlour, which turns out to be Pierre.

The piercer gives him a highly unimpressed look, dragging his eyes up from the book he’s reading.

“Do I look like I either know or care? I don’t do the tattoos.”

“Where’s Lewis?”

Pierre just shrugs as if it hardly matters, but Nico’s not having it. This is fucking war and he will not continue to lose every battle.

“LEWIS!” he bellows, and there’s a thump and a yelp, then swearing as the buzz of a tattoo gun shuts off from behind the curtain.

Lewis appears eventually, throwing the curtain back and coming to stand before Nico, his arms folded and his eyes narrow.

God he’s hot. God Nico hates him.

“I almost made a mistake on Romain’s tattoo, Nico! Can you not come in here yelling? Spine tattoos are difficult enough!”

“Are you giving him a half price floral tattoo?” Nico spits.

“No? The spring promotion doesn’t start till next week. What’s your problem?”

“Flowers. Are. My. Thing.”

“Oh my God, who even cares,” Pierre grumbles, as he focuses on his book again, rubbing absently at his black-rimmed eye and smudging his eyeliner a little.

Lewis raises his chin, defiant, and shit his biceps look good... his T-shirt is just that little bit too tight across the chest too...

Nico drags his eyes away too slow, but makes a point of glaring even harder as Lewis scowls at him.

“You don’t own flowers,” Lewis snaps, looking at Nico like he’s insane.

“I literally sell them, of course I own flowers!”

“But not, like, all the flowers in the world,” Pierre pipes up again. “You don’t have a monopoly on all things floral.”

Nico points a finger at him. “You stay out of this!”

Pierre gives him the middle finger over Lewis’ shoulder, but Nico is cut off from responding by the door opening behind him. Max sidles in, his eyes already flicking about looking for Dan in the parlour.

“Nope! Back to the shop!” Nico snaps at him. “You’re officially on tattoo curfew, no interacting with the enemy!”

“For crying out loud,” Lewis mutters, rolling his eyes and for fuck’s sake how does he make even that look attractive?

It’s probably the cheekbones, Nico decides to himself, before he grabs Max’s elbow. Max starts to whine, but Nico hauls him back over the street to the safety of their shop, as carefully as he can so as not to jar his back and the still-healing tattoo he knows is there under his shirt.

“We have to think of something,” he hisses to Max, who’s staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “Staff meeting! The fucking tattoo bastards are stealing our business again. Think, Max!”

Nicky pokes his head out from the cool room, wiping dirty hands on his dark green apron.

“You say something, boss?”

“Staff meeting. Who else is here?”

“Just me and Kimi, Yuki’s at class.”

“KIMI! STAFF MEETING!” Nico calls as he locks their front door and flips the sign to ‘closed’. He doesn’t want to risk Lewis or his team spying or eavesdropping on them.

“Kimi says no,” Nicky reports, as he comes to stand next to Max at the counter, eyeing Nico expectantly.

“Whatever,” Nico grumbles. He doesn’t have time to waste, not with Lewis as good as drawing battle lines between their two stores.

“You won’t believe it when I tell you what Lewis has done,” he explains to his boys, trying to keep his voice from shaking too badly in his anger.

Their faces for some reason remain completely unchanged, even after he imparts to them exactly how their competitors are now actively trying to run them out of business.

“That’s a nice idea, the half price offer,” Nicky says with a smile when Nico’s finished talking, completely missing the point.

“Can I go now?” Max whines. “I have my appointment with Dan at 1.”

Nico huffs at them, stunned by their betrayal, and stomps off into his office to start making his plans on his own, because apparently he has to do everything by himself around here.

“Uh, hang on, boss,” Nicky calls through his open door. “Do I open the door up again now, or...?”

“No!” Kimi yells from the cold room next door. “Leave shut! No more work today!”

“That’s the exact attitude that allows Lewis to win, Kimi!” Nico howls back through the wall, waving Nicky off to open back up.

*

All of Nico’s friends are shit, he decides, as he sips his glass of rosé at the bar of Fernando’s tapas restaurant (which is imaginatively named ‘Fernando’s’) that evening. Lewis is trying to run him out of business and no one even cares. They're all probably in league with him. Pricks.

“My life is awful,” he grouses to Fernando, who simply blinks back at him balefully from across the counter.

Case in point, Yuki’s at one of the tables in the restaurant section, holding hands with Pierre as they gaze at each other adoringly, despite Nico’s specific instruction that there should be no fraternization between his employees and Lewis’.

Nico pouts at Yuki’s back for a while, but the kid doesn’t notice him. Pierre does and pointedly gives Nico the finger for the third time today, looking distinctly unimpressed even under his eyeliner and from all the way across the room.

And Max is just as bad, mooning over Daniel by the pool tables, doing his best impression of the heart eyes emoji. It couldn’t be more obvious that the kid is already lovesick over the Australian, braying with laughter over everything he said and lighting up like a Christmas tree if Dan so much as looked his way.

Unfortunately, Max seems to have no idea how to actually flirt, and simply keeps booking more appointments to have additional detail and colour added to the lion’s face Dan is tattooing on his back, just to keep spending time with him.

Nico is yet to work out whether that’s genius or idiotic, but he knows which one he’s leaning towards.

The only person who seems to want to listen to Nico is Seb, who appears to perch on the stool next to him after finishing dinner with Charles in the restaurant.

“It’s unfair, is what it is,” Nico insists, as Seb nods sagely and sips his martini. “Because Lewis knows I can’t fire back.”

“Your markets are literally completely different, but he knew that all along,” Seb agrees. “He can put a twist on flowers, but what are you going to do? Sell flower-themed piercing jewellery? Temporary tattoos?”

“No one would buy that, none of it would sell,” Nico mutters. “Not that you would know, Seb. Stop overpaying your staff! How the hell are you even turning a profit?!”

“I’m supposed to make a profit?” Seb looks at him, his expression mystified.

Nico just stares back, slightly horrified, before his attention is taken by Lewis’ trainee, who’s climbing up onto the stool on his other side.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” Nico demands.

“I’m 21,” the kid blinks up at him. Nico narrows his eyes as he scrutinizes his face because he doesn’t bloody look it.

Then Carlos is before them, leaning on the bar and making eyes at the alleged 21 year old.

The kid smiles at Carlos. Carlos leers back.

“Hi, can I get a vodka and orange?”

“You don’t want that,” Carlos waves a dismissive hand. “I will make something better just for you. It’s called Te verás tan bien para mí cuando-”

He cuts off with a yelp when Fernando rounds on him and starts whacking him with a tea-towel, hissing angrily in Spanish.

Charles wanders over then, his wending steps signaling he’s probably over-indulged on whatever his now empty cocktail glass had contained. He face-plants straight into Seb’s neck with a happy little noise of satisfaction, and it would be cute as fuck if he wasn’t borderline one of Nico’s declared enemies.

Nico can’t bring himself to scowl at him though, as Charles burrows into Seb’s side and Seb wraps his free arm around him and kisses his temple.

“I might have to make an exception for the piercers,” Nico mutters, mostly to himself, as Seb murmurs something into his boyfriend’s ear. By proxy to his friendship with Seb, Nico does see an awful lot of Charles. “Pierre might shoot me with his piercing gun if I try to keep him and Yuki apart.”

“Lewis wouldn’t allow that,” Charles tells him, not lifting his face from Seb’s shoulder but regarding Nico with sleepy eyes.

Nico spins on his barstool to address his staff, most of whom are dotted about the room.

“New rule, Rosebergers! I am deigning to allow you to interact with the piercers from Haminkton. But only the piercers! Not the tattoo artists! They are Out Of Bounds!”

Max lets out an angry snarl from where he’s leaning with Dan against the pool table, but Yuki looks pleased, so it’s worth the bitch-face Nico is going to get when he and Max open tomorrow.

“Hang on, mate,” Dan calls, pitching his voice louder when Nico covers his ears so he can pretend not to hear him. “How about we simplify it, and it can just be you and Lewis not interacting with each other?”

Nico frowns hard at him. “That’s completely subverting the point.”

“It’s kind of really not,” Seb insists.

“Who’s side are you on?” Nico snaps, glaring at him.

“Mine,” Charles chirps smugly. “But Nico, how exactly is any of this helping your business?”

“I haven’t got to that part yet.”

“Maybe, instead of spending time worrying over Lewis, you should...”

“Liebling, shh, let the man think,” Seb chides, sealing his palm over Charles’ mouth.

“Thank you, exactly!” Nico explains, before he goes back to scowling into his drink. Thank God for Sebastian Vettel, honestly.

*

Nico’s not sulking. He’s not. But dammit, why does wedding season have to be so busy. Yes, these few months are when his business makes the bulk of its annual intake but come on.

“How am I supposed to have time to plan a counter-attack to Lewis’ latest attempt to sabotage me, when there’s so much bloody work to do?!”

“Not really following how too much work is a problem?” Max squints at Nico from over the peach ranunculus he’s sorting for the bridal party bouquets Kimi is set to deliver to the next village.

Yuki nods emphatically in agreement, eyes fixed on the boutonnières he’s wrapping in mint-green ribbon.

“The problem,” Nico spits, “is that if Lewis runs us out of business, you’re all out of a job!”

“How could Lewis possibly run us-”

“Who pairs peach and mint together nowadays,” Kimi interrupts Max, sounding weirdly angry as he sneers at the array of peach blooms. “So eighties...”

“Are you going to help us or just criticize people’s colour choices?” Yuki asks, still not looking up.

“What do you think?” Kimi grumbles, folding his arms.

Yuki rolls his eyes, then points an accusatory finger at Nico. “And you’re not helping either!”

“I am trying to save us all!” Nico really doesn’t get why this is so hard for them to understand.

“Peach is out this year anyway. Pink is in, though.” Kimi sure is taking this colour palette incredibly personally.

“Pink never goes out, it’s practically a neutral,” Nico insists, though he does start selecting the ferns to use as filler in the table arrangements. “That’s beside the point, Kimi. I need to come up with an idea to stop Lewis!”

“Why?” Yuki demands, looking as incredulous as his innate politeness will allow him. “There is literally no way we, a florist, can be run out of business by a tattoo parlour!”

“But he’s already doing it, Yuki!” Nico fights to keep his voice patient, because he can never bring himself to be annoyed at his favourite employee. “And he’s been doing it for an entire year!”

“Oh my God,” Max mutters, finishing with the ranunculus flowers and moving on to the peach roses, clipping thorns and leaves from the stems. “Just... let’s get this order filled, and then you can go back to obsessing over Lewis, hm?”

“I’m not obsessing,” Nico snarls, snatching the secateurs off of him and showing him a better way to de-thorn that didn’t damage the stem. “That’s you about Daniel! How many more tattoos will it take for you to just ask him out?!”

“You should get that tattooed,” Kimi suggests, as he continues to not help them in any way. “Get him to tattoo ‘Daniel will you please go out with me so I can stop pissing off my co-workers?’”

“’Do you like me, check yes or no.’” Yuki giggles.

“Shut up,” Max grumbles, going pink in the cheeks. “It’s Valtteri that does the lettering tattoos, anyway.”

*

That evening finds Nico sprawled on his couch gazing blankly at his wall, the remnants of his half eaten dinner abandoned on his coffee table.

Even though he’s been staring at his wallpaper for so long that the kingfisher blue passiflora print has become shapeless and his eyes are blurring, his mind is having a brainwave.

He can’t compete with Lewis in any typical way, and Charles keeps refusing to play the spy and alert Nico properly to any of Lewis’ plans, which is why Seb only reports things when it’s too late to launch a counter-attack...

But what Nico can do is make use of what he already has.

There’s a little courtyard garden at the back of their shop, where Kimi BBQs for them in summer once they’re shut, and they store a few surplus bags of potting mix. They already sell a few things in addition to fresh-cut flowers, such as indoor plants and ceramic pots, but Nico doesn’t know why it hasn’t occurred to him sooner to expand into things like vegetable seedlings, outdoor plants and fruit trees...

They don’t have the room to become a full-blown garden center, but the way of traditional floristry has become more and more difficult, and business has been declining little by little for some time.

Smirking to himself, and finally feeling he’s got a clearer trajectory for his shop against Lewis and all his tricks, Nico drags his laptop onto his stomach and starts emailing his suppliers.

*

Nico’s feeling particularly proud of himself as he has Nicky help tidy and re-organize the courtyard the following day.

“Tree saplings along that wall, vegetable seedlings there...” Nico mumbles to himself, trying to envision it all, sitting on the bench under the awning as Nicky scurries about, shifting things according to his directions.

The tinkling of the bell announces a customer, and he leaves Nicky to the sweeping of the cobblestones in order to duck back inside.

“Hey, Nico,” Lewis murmurs as he smiles at him. Nico resists the urge to hiss.

“Morning.” Nico says shortly, putting his apron back on and takes up his place at the counter.

Lewis wanders the rows of flowers and pre-assembled bouquets, glancing around as if he’s looking for something in particular.

“Do you need something? Or are you just here to spy?”

Lewis smiles but doesn’t look at Nico, his eyes fixed on a sunflower that’s almost a direct colour match for the stripe on the side of his Tommy Hilfiger sweatpants.

“What is there to spy on? Nicky up to something deviant out there with his broom?”

“No. None of your business,” Nico mutters, as snootily as he can.

Lewis just chuckles, picks up a bouquet of cream roses, then puts them down again. “I’m going to London to see my mum and my sisters, and I wanted to get them all something. I don’t go back as often as I should.”

“Or you’re here to get tattoo ideas,” Nico grumbles, gesturing to the sign the trainee kid is hanging in the window over the road, announcing the spring promotion.

“I hand-draw my own work, I don’t need to buy flowers as reference. That’s what the internet is for,” Lewis laughs, eyes crinkling in amusement as he finally looks up at Nico.

Nico huffs in response, but points him towards the potted indoor plants along the back wall, where the natural light floods in through the windows.

“I recommend something from there as a gift, potted plants last much longer than bouquets. Save the fresh-cut flowers for girlfriends.”

“That’s unlikely in itself,” Lewis snorts, but he heads over to where Nico is pointing. “The last time I bought a date flowers, he gave them to the waitress he’d been flirting with right in front of me all night.”

“Rude,” Nico murmurs.

“I gapped it and stuck him with the bill.” Lewis grins at him over his shoulder, then turns back to the plants. After a moment he lets out a low whistle. “Oh man, what is this? It’s sick!”

Curiosity piqued, Nico gives in and wanders over to see what has caught his eye. Lewis is holding an anthurium with burgundy leaves so dark they’re practically black, an enamoured look on his face.

“Anthuriums are good gifts,” Nico approves. “Hard to kill, if your mum and sisters aren’t green-thumbed.”

“They won’t want this bad boy, though.” Lewis puts the pot back down and picks up a light pink variant. “My mum would like this one, I think.”

“Pink is always a good choice,” Nico nods, before he goes back to the counter.

Lewis buys three anthuriums, in red, white and pink, and leaves the shop with a smile and a jaunty salute. Nico waits until his car pulls away from outside, transfers the black anthurium into a nicer dark red ceramic pot and calls to Nicky that he’ll be back in a second.

Dan is fiddling with his phone at the parlour counter, and he grins so wide it must hurt when Nico steps inside.

“Hey man! Lewis isn’t here, it’s his day off.”

Nico shrugs as if he doesn’t care, then sets the plant down in front of him. “This is for you all.”

“Oh, cool! Thanks, man. I’ll keep it here where everyone can see it! Is it an apology for coming in and yelling at Lewis all the time?”

“I have never done that in my life,” Nico tells him stiffly. “It likes bright light, but don’t put it in direct sunlight. If I see you guys aren’t taking proper care of it, I’ll take it off you.”

“Hey, is Max in today?” Dan interrupts, as he settles the plant next to the cash register.

“No. I gave him a few days off, he can’t do half of what I need him to since he can’t lift or move things, thanks to a certain tattoo that seems to be taking forever.”

“OK, cool, I might pop round his later then and check how he’s healing up. He’s had a lot of work done back to back, but he’s champion for coming in for more so often,” Dan says, before he turns and howls through the curtain. “HEY PIERRE, COME LOOK AT THIS!”

Pierre wanders through from the parlour, a bottle of black nail polish in his hand. His lip curls when he sees Nico, but he actually smiles when he spots the plant. “That is awesome.”

“Right?! What should we name it?”

“Nico,” Pierre says immediately, before he leans a hip against the counter and goes back to painting his nails.

*

Nico manages to avoid Lewis for a whole week, feeling too awkward about the obvious gift but glad he at least presented it as being for the team as a whole.

Unfortunately, Seb won’t shut the fuck up about it.

“Charles said Lewis was so excited when he saw it. He wanted to put it in his office but Valtteri wouldn’t let him hog it.” Seb smirks as he leans against Nico’s shoulder at Fernando’s bar on Thursday evening.

“It’s not like it means anything.” Nico shrugs, trying to pretend he’s not pleased. “I’ve had it in stock for ages, it’s never sold. Easier to just give it away.”

“Sure, sure,” Seb just grins, raising a hand to Carlos for another round of their drinks.

“Don’t be annoying. It’s not a thing,” Nico insists, before he orders them a plate of croquettes to share since they’re drinking.

“It’s pretty obviously a thing. You’re addicted to him. Charles agrees with me.”

“Charles is so lovesick over you he probably agrees with all the stupid bullshit that comes out of your mouth,” Nico points out.

Seb’s eyes go soft and loving, and he doesn’t reply, his thoughts obviously sticking to his partner.

“It’s just an excuse for me to keep a closer eye on them,” Nico carries on, stealing the biggest croquette when Carlos slides the plate over. “It’s a reason to go into the parlour, nothing more.”

“You already have a reason. The reason is that you’ve got a crush on Lewis!”

Seb just grins when Nico rounds on him to shut him up, then yanks the plate of croquettes away as punishment.

“Shhhhhh, for crying out loud!” Nico risks a glance over his shoulder to where Lewis is sitting in one of the booths with Valtteri, Charles and the trainee kid. “He might hear you!”

“Hopefully, yes, and then you can all stop talking about this one,” Fernando grumbles from where he leans against the kitchen doorway, blatantly listening to them.

Seb’s grin turns shit-eating when Nico shoots another angry glance at him, before his gaze flicks pointedly over Nico’s right shoulder.

“Whelp, Charles and I are off home. See you for breakfast tomorrow, Mick’s still in the middle of his savoury muffin fixation.” Seb drains his drink, grabs a croquette and wanders off without paying, which obviously means Nico is footing the entire bill tonight.

“Tell him I like the cheese and sweetcorn ones,” Nico calls over his shoulder as his two friends leave, before Lewis drops down onto the barstool Seb’s just vacated.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Nico eyes him, suspicious.

“So, Nico, the plant is boss.” Lewis grins at him. “I haven’t had the chance to see you yet to say thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

Nico shrugs and tries to pretend his pulse hasn’t increased with having Lewis in such close proximity.

“Actually, can you come by and check on him? The sticky out bits are getting paler.”

“The stamen?”

“Dunno. Pierre calls it... well, I better not say. The yellow bit in the middle.”

“Right. Overwatering, maybe. I’ll come by,” Nico replies.

“Great! I got your drinks and your food.” Lewis jumps up, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and handing his card over to Carlos before Nico can follow what’s happening. “Let’s go.”

“You mean now...?” Nico finishes his wine, and ignores the pointed smirk Carlos is giving him.

It must be some sort of trap, what he’s clearly being lured into.

“Yeah!” Lewis is already out the door, giving Nico no real choice but to follow.

It’s drizzling outside, and Nico grumbles, pulling up the hood of his coat. Lewis just jogs the few meters down the street to his shop, and holds the door open for Nico to step inside. The neon lighting strips in the ceiling illuminate the walls in purple and teal when Lewis turns them on so they can see.

Nico tries not to linger in brushing past him and heads straight to the counter, picking up the plant to examine it. Lewis looms over his shoulder.

“Overwatered. See the paleness, and the browning ends of the leaves?” Nico points out what he’s noticed. “You have a sink?”

Lewis nods and leads the way into the parlour itself, and through into a bathroom wallpapered in death-metal posters. Nico raises an eyebrow at some of the more terrifying piercings various band members are sporting, then concentrates on draining the water from the pot.

“There’s also probably too much direct light coming in through that window after midday, too,” he points out, handing the pot back and trying not to let his frantic mind focus on how close Lewis is standing to him in the tiny bathroom.

“OK. I’ll find somewhere better for him,” Lewis murmurs, glancing around the parlour. “He might have to go into my office, it’s not great to have dirt exposed to the air when people are being grievously wounded in the same room, anyway.”

“I always thought Pierre was too dangerous for his job. Nico the plant should be fine in your office, then.”

“Phew. The guys would kill me if anything happened to him. I swear I hear Lando singing to him when he’s out watching the front.”

“What’s a Lando?” Nico murmurs, fighting to keep his eyes fixed on Lewis’ rather than watching his lips as he speaks.

Lewis just laughs as he shifts the pot to one arm and reaches out to hug Nico with the other, drawing him in to his side.

“Thanks so much, man.”

God Lewis smells so good that it’s intoxicating, and his waist is firm under Nico’s hand and this was so not part of the plan. Nico won’t fall for this, won’t fall for him, won’t allow this blatant... manipulation...

“Well. Goodnight,” he gasps, into the barely existent space between them, before he’s pulling away and rushing out of the shop.

He runs straight home through the rain, arriving at his door feeling both hot and cold, soaked through and out of breath.

*

Nico throws himself into his work for the next few days, and there’s certainly plenty to do in the lead up to the Magnussen-Hülkenberg wedding at the weekend.

And of course, everything goes to shit immediately when he gets to the shop on Saturday morning to find Kimi looking uncharacteristically concerned. The shipment of cherry and plum blossoms they’d been going to use hasn’t fucking arrived and Nico’s panic skyrockets.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck,” he groans, pacing about the shop floor as the clock ticks down to 10 am, which is when they need to be packed up and on the road to the wedding venue. Poor Yuki is trying in vain to stretch the blossoms they do have in stock to cover what the couple has already paid them to provide.

“Not working,” Kimi grumbles, watching Yuki unhelpfully from the cool room.

“No,” Nico agrees, laying a hand on Yuki’s back to stop him.

“But we promised,” Yuki chokes out, sounding like he’s about to cry, and Nico pats at his shoulder. The last thing he needs is Pierre seeing his boyfriend in tears from over the road and running over to rip Nico’s throat out with his teeth.

“Add orange and lemon blossoms to bulk out the boutonnières and the cake decoration. We’ll have to use the rest sparingly, and use wisteria where we can,” Nico decides.

“They don’t want wisteria, they want-” Kimi starts to criticize, before Nico shoots him a look to shut him up.

“We can’t give them what they want. The order hasn’t made it on time and we need to be on the road in half an hour. We either improvise, or give them their money back and provide nothing at all.”

It’s a damn scramble, and of course the air con in their van isn’t working, so the delicate petals will inevitably be starting to wilt before they even get to where they need to be, but they have no other choice.

Nico has to scream at Kimi twice and at Max four times before they finally get everything loaded, and gnaws on his bottom lip until he tastes blood as he tries to think how to tackle the actual set-up.

He had intended to leave Max and Nicky to watch the shop, but he really needs all hands on deck at the wedding now. The guys are already arguing between themselves over who gets to come and who has to stay, and the headache that the noise and stress is creating behind Nico’s eyes is getting excruciating.

“Are you guys OK?” Lewis’ voice interrupts, and Nico glances over wearily to find the parlour employees all watching the bickering in the middle of the street from their shop window. Lewis is lingering next to the van looking weirdly concerned.

“No,” Nico grumbles, rubbing at his sore eyes. “We’re late for a wedding, the stock we needed for it hasn’t arrived, and I now need all the guys with me, but two have to stay to watch the shop because I can’t leave only one person alone all day...”

“One of us can come help,” Lewis volunteers immediately. “Leave Yuki, he and Pierre...”

“No. They’ll just lock the door and have sex in my office,” Nico grumbles, shaking his head. “Pierre’s been threatening to for months.”

“It’s true, I have,” Pierre confirms through the glass.

“Right,” Lewis shoots his employee an unimpressed look. “Leave Nicky or Kimi then, they’re the only ones not romantically entangled with one of us. No chance of sex.”

“Kimi’s happily married, and Nicky’s too nice for any mere mortal to be good enough for.” Nico nods absently. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Lewis claps his shoulder with a smile and goes back to his parlour, as Nico approaches his team.

“Nicky! Short straw, pal, you’re staying behind. I don’t trust Kimi to do any work if I’m not there.”

Kimi shrugs in acceptance of that, and Nicky just sighs and then smiles again, as amiable as ever.

In the end, how the hell they get through the day with the grooms at first none the wiser to the mess up, but then loving the idea of fresh wisteria as table runners for the reception, is nothing short of a miracle.

They manage to get to the ceremony site in time for them all to set up the aisle decorations, before Nico sends Max to the grooms with the boutonnières and Yuki to decorate the cake. He and Kimi have five arguments in the space of the hour it takes to decorate the reception hall, but somehow everything gets done and they’re pulling away to the sound of the cheers and whistling as the couple are declared married.

Everyone’s hot, hungry and exhausted, and by the first set of lights Kimi is sprawled out asleep along the back seat of the van as Yuki dozes on Max’s shoulder. Nico himself is so drained that he has to drive extra slow just to ensure he’s being careful.

They get back to the shop just before 3 pm, and Nico sends Charles back to the parlour, then instructs his team to go home early.

Once he’s alone, Nico inhales the grounding scent of flowers, soil and leaves, his headache finally abating.

They had a good run of sales, so he’s just sweeping up and preparing to lock the doors when Lewis walks in.

“Hey!”

“Hi,” Nico tries to sound casual as he leans the broom against the counter. “Thanks for Charles.”

“No problem, I think he enjoyed the time to study without all the noise of the parlour. How did it all go?” Lewis looks worried, as if it matters to him. Probably some sort of sneaky business tactic.

“Fine, somehow, thank God.” Nico shakes his head, still not sure how they pulled it all off.

“Well head to Fernando’s whenever you’re ready, Haminkton is shouting your crew drinks.”

“Why?”

“To be nice?” Lewis shrugs. “You all had a rough day. I’ll text you when we’re on our way over.”

“You don’t have my number.”

“I do actually, got it from Charles ages ago! See you later!”

As Lewis leaves he passes Carlos walking in, though the Spaniard is mostly craning his neck to look over at the tattoo parlour.

“What do you want?” Nico asks, his headache back in full force.

“I want to get something for Lando. What is seductive?” Carlos blinks at him, then eyes the freesia display.

“Who the fuck is Lando?” Nico mutters, before he gestures over to the camellias. “Those represent desire, but that’s all bullshit.”

“He needs to know I’m trying to seduce him,” Carlos insists.

“I don’t know, man!” Nico groans, rubbing his eyes. “A cactus? They’re kind of phallic?”

“You are very odd,” Carlos murmurs, throwing him a confused look.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, so I don’t know what to recommend.”

“Lando is perfect,” Carlos says immediately. “And adorable. And funny, and he makes me smile. And he babbles when he is nervous and it is very cute. And he is very weird. And every time I see him, I want to rip his clothes off and-”

“Fucking hell, shut up! I don’t want to know! Look, just... what colours does he like?”

“Orange... purple...” Carlos is looking lost in thought now, and Nico resolves to get him out of his shop as fast as possible.

“Bird of paradise, they’re weird as Hell. Here,” Nico says, hurrying out from behind the counter and grabbing a handful of stems of the flower he means, holding them out to Carlos for his approval.

Carlos stares at them, his eyes bugging, before he bursts out laughing. “They are like birds, no?!”

“Exactly,” Nico agrees, taking them back to the counter and rolling them in orange paper. Carlos is still giggling in delight once he’s paid and is clasping the bouquet in his hands.

“Look at their beaks!”

“Yeah, I know. Hilarious. Off you go.” Nico shoos him out, only too happy to lock the door, finish the tidying and sort out the day’s banking.

His headache has come back with a vengeance by the time he shuts the light off and locks up, only to have Dan howl his name and come running over the road to launch himself on his back.

“Fucking hell, get off me,” Nico mutters, dropping him immediately. Dan just grins, slings an arm around him and steers him towards Fernando’s.

The bar is packed when they enter, and Nico makes a bee-line for Seb out of habit, even though he’s busy making out with Charles in one of the booths.

“When did you give Lewis my number?” Nico hisses at Charles, kicking his foot under the table as he drops down opposite them.

“Months ago,” Charles replies, looking hazy and confused. “He asked for it because he was wanting to-”

“Liebling, can you get Nico a drink?” Seb interrupts loudly, half pushing his boyfriend from the bench seat.

Once Charles has wandered off, Seb leans over the table and grabs both of Nico’s wrists.

“It’s all part of the conspiracy to undermine you,” he tells Nico in a low voice.

Mick, who’s sitting in the booth behind Sebastian with George, Alex and Lance, leans back and whacks at Seb’s head with a paper menu.

“When will you stop stirring shit?!”

“Don’t listen to Mick,” Seb says as he shoves his friend’s makeshift weapon away. “It’s obvious, Nico. Lewis is lulling you into a false sense of security, pretending to try and befriend you... then when your guard is down...”

“Seb, give it a rest!” George calls, peering around an angry looking Mick. “By the way, you overpaid me.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You did! I’ll give you back the extra £100.”

“Don’t you have textbooks to buy this semester?”

“Yeah, but not with money I didn’t earn!”

"Call it an advance!"

Nico tunes out their bickering and looks around the room. Lewis waves to him from the table he’s sharing with Valtteri, Pierre and Yuki, and Nico lifts a hand in return, chewing at his bottom lip as he tries to figure out if he should glare or not.

At the bar, Carlos is leaning unprofessionally close to Lewis’ trainee.

“Try this,” Nico hears the bartender say, sliding a high-ball glass of something to the kid. “It’s called quiero doblarte sobre este mostrador.”

Nico doesn’t know what that means, but Checo lets out a yell from the kitchen and Fernando lunges over from by the register to smack Carlos upside the head, as Carlos yelps and tries to shield his perfectly styled hair.

Other people are so weird.

A few hours later and Nico is pleasantly drunk, filled with good food and alcohol he hasn’t had to pay for thanks to the Haminkton team, and is trying not to fall asleep at his table.

He watches idly as Seb slips a £50 note into Lance’s coat pocket while the student is distracted playing pool with Valtteri, Antonio and Kimi.

“Does Lance need money? Isn’t his Dad loaded?” Nico asks around a yawn.

“Lance works really hard. He’s trying to cut it on his own, balancing school and work to prove to Lawrence he can do it without needing any of his help financially. I’m just making sure he can pay his rent this month,” Seb mutters defensively.

“Max is kinda like that. Only he dropped out of school and when he’s not working for me I’m pretty sure he just plays video games in his underwear.”

“Oh really?! Do please tell me more about Max’s underwear!” Dan begs as he falls into the seat beside Nico.

“Go ask to see for yourself,” Nico tells him blearily. “Then he might finally grow the balls to-”

“Heading out, Nico?” a voice cuts in, and Nico blinks until a shape that looks like Lewis materializes above him. “I’ll walk you home. You’re a little buzzed, mate.”

“I can do it, boss-man, Nico just lives over the road from me,” Dan replies, before he lets out a weird yelp of pain.

“I didn’t think your night was over so soon, Dan?” Seb asks, his eyes taking on their tell-tale goading look. “You haven’t even done a shoey.”

“SHOEY!” Dan howls, leaping from the seat and bounding up onto the pool table, ignoring the distressed shouts of the players who were still in the middle of their game. Lewis uses the opportunity to help Nico to his feet and out the door.

The cool night air clears his head a little, but Lewis still walks quite close, a hand on Nico’s elbow as he guides him down the footpath.

“Thanks for the food, and the drinks,” Nico manages to say, once he remembers how to make his mouth work. 

“It’s all good man, you guys had a heck of a long day. Do you work tomorrow too?”

“I work every day,” Nico says around a yawn, then winces when the movement makes him feel nauseous.

“I noticed that. Maybe you ought to have a day off, once in a while?”

“So you can steal more of my business?” Nico snorts, wagging a finger in his face. “I'm not falling for that trick, Lewis!”

“When did I steal your business?” Lewis sounds something between amused and mystified, as they turn onto Nico’s street, which is just off the main road.

“Christian! Your first day of operation, last year!” As if Lewis doesn’t know, hadn’t done it on purpose!

“I’d just opened, man! I had to start making money pronto! I’d sunk every cent into the shop, I was eating pot noodles for weeks after.”

“Why did you move here?” Nico asks. “Wasn’t London much more glamorous and exciting?”

Lewis shrugs a little, gently steering Nico from the path of the street-light he had been about to walk into.

“The scene in London is so unnecessarily competitive and cut-throat, once I reached the top there was nothing left to achieve. And I’d been wanting to strike out on my own for awhile. I had too many ideas and passions that just kept getting shot down. Thankfully Valtteri agreed to come with me, because he wasn’t being treated with the respect he deserves either. I couldn't have done this without him. We’re lucky it’s paying off.”

“You’re lucky you poach my customers,” Nico corrects, before he gently extracts his elbow from the warm-fingered grasp. “I’m fine from here.”

To prove his point, he successfully guides his key into the lock of his front door, then shoots Lewis a triumphant smirk.

“Alright, man. Have a good sleep,” Lewis murmurs, and he’s already walking away with his hands in his pockets before Nico can think of something to sneer in reply.

“You have a good sleep!” Nico grumbles under his breath anyway, as he falls through his front door.

*

So Nico opens the shop the next day wearing sunglasses, so what? And he keeps the blinds only half open and the lights off, whatever, it’s cost efficient! And OK, he spends most of the day asleep at his desk, but it’s his business, so he can do what he likes!

And yeah, Kimi sleeps the day away too in his usual chair in the cool room, but he does that 95% of the time anyway. Max naps curled up on the small couch in their tiny staff room between customers, but as he’s the only one bothering to serve at the counter, Nico figures he deserves it.

He doesn’t see Lewis all day, not that he’s looking out for him. But Nico’s pretty sure it’s only Valtteri, Charles and the trainee kid at the parlour today, because there’s no sign of any other faces.

Not that Nico cares.

He does rouse himself at closing time to select the flowers for the restaurant area of Fernando’s bar like he does every Sunday and Thursday as part of their standing order, so at least he manages something productive.

Ten minutes later Nico’s filling the low vases of yellow and purple crocus at the restaurant when Este corners him.

“Nico?”

“Hn?” Nico grunts, not lifting his sunglasses.

“Can I interview you for my paper on small businesses?”

“Hn.”

“Is that yes?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Thank you! I’ll grab my phone to record!” Este runs off before Nico can catch up to what he’s saying.

“You mean right now?!” he demands, once the student is back, still grinning broadly.

“Yeah! Sit!”

Nico groans loudly, but Fernando brings him lemon water and paracetamol, so he grudgingly drops into a seat at one of the tables.

The questions are fine, Nico talks about buying in bulk, cost effectiveness, the importance of having a solid business model and how much better his life would be if two of his four employees weren’t so damn lazy.

“OK, we’re almost done. What would you say is your biggest challenge?”

“Lewis Hamilton,” Nico answers without hesitation.

“Really?” Este squints at him, looking a little confused. “Not cheaper product available at grocery stores and other outlets, or seasonal supply issues... or literally... any other thing...?”

“No. Lewis.”

“You run completely different businesses,” Este murmurs, but Nico waves that aside.

“He’s my competition.”

“But your services are in no way competing with each other...”

“That’s what Lewis wants you to think.”

“I really don’t...” Este starts to squeak, but Romain calls out something to him in French that Nico doesn’t understand.

“Laisse tomber, mon pote. Ces deux flirtent plus bizarrement que Carlos et Lando.”

“Can I go now?” Nico asks, buffing his nails on his jacket lapel. “I’m still hungover as fuck.”

“Yeah, sure,” Este murmurs weakly. “Thanks, I think.”

“You’re very welcome.” Nico claps his shoulder and heads home to bed.

*

A few days later, and Nico’s finally got his stock in and his courtyard set up how he wants for his foray into offering outdoor plants.

As Kimi drags the last of the potted olive trees into place along the back wall, Yuki finishes lining up the rows of vegetable seedlings into perfect uniformity on their table, then takes his apron off and turns nervously to Nico.

“I’m getting a tattoo now.”

“Are you?” Nico can’t ever be mad at Yuki, even for such a turn-coat act. “Make sure they do a good job.”

“Can you come with me?” Yuki’s eyes are very wide and it takes Nico a moment to realize he’s nervous.

“You want me to? Won’t Pierre be there?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna interrupt if Pierre has work to do.” Yuki twists his fingers together nervously. “And I don’t really want him to watch ‘cos I think he’ll just panic and try to punch Valtteri.”

“Probably,” Nico agrees. “Kimi, you good to lock up?”

“Why do you ask this stupid question,” Kimi grumbles, snatching the store keys from Nico’s outstretched hand.

“Well, don’t forget the banking. And to turn the lights off. And to lock the door, this time.”

“I know this! Was one time I forget and forever you go on!”

Yuki laughs as they get chased out, and Nico focuses on trying to keep his young friend's spirits up as they head into the parlour.

Valtteri doesn’t protest to Nico coming back to support Yuki, just waves for Nico to sit at Dan’s empty station next to them. Pierre is already circling the tattoo section of the parlour like a shark, pacing about restlessly, his eyes narrow and worried.

Nico watches as Lewis, who works at the back station, glances up to talk to his trainee kid. He points something out about the way his fingers are positioned on his gun, then goes back to tattooing Antonio’s lower back. He’s clearly not interested in even saying hi to Nico, but whatever, Nico doesn’t care. God Lewis is so bloody rude. And hot. And rude, seriously, who just ignores someone like this?!

Yuki is perfectly calm as Valtteri cleans and shaves his neck just below his ear, but Pierre stops his pacing to hover far too close over his shoulder. Valtteri, for his part, rolls his eyes and gets on with the stencil, checking Yuki is happy with the placement and size of the little sleeping fox he’s about to get inked.

“Pierre,” Lewis calls out, which must mean Valtteri has become in some way annoyed that's only visible to his best friend, because Nico can't tell. “Come on, man.”

“I know, I know.” Pierre wrings his hands as if to keep from trying to snatch away Valtteri's tattoo gun. “I just...”

“Come pierce me,” Nico offers, for lack of being able to help Yuki in any other way.

Pierre’s eyes light up.

“Really?!” he and Lewis both cry at the same time, one delighted, one shocked.

“Sure,” Nico shrugs. “You’re going to get Valtteri's gun shoved up your ass, the way you’re looming over him. Then I’ll have to deal with Yuki being upset, and no one wants that. Yuki is fine, and brave. Aren’t you, Yuki?”

Yuki gives him a thumbs up, and Pierre concedes to wander over to Nico, eyeing him speculatively and looking far too keen at the opportunity to hurt him.

“What d’you want pierced?”

“Dunno. My dick?” Nico says, just to see if it makes Lewis look over at him again. It does.

“Charles does the genitals.” Pierre shakes his head no. “I’ll do your nostril, heals up easy if you don’t like it.”

“Fine.” Nico shrugs, throwing one last look Yuki’s way as Valtteri's gun starts buzzing. The kid still looks fine, so he lets Pierre do his thing.

The piercing, when his nose is finally sterilized or whatever, fucking stings and Nico’s eyes water, but he’s not about to let Pierre know that. The little emo bastard looks as though he highly enjoyed being able to inflict Nico some pain, too.

Hanging out in the tattoo parlour is not how he imagined spending his evening, but Seb walks in just as Valtteri is finishing Yuki up, and waves to Nico.

“Spying in person again, rather than harassing the love of my life?”

“You’re the one who gossips, Seb, don’t pretend. But what are you doing here?” Nico wonders. “Charles is in Monaco visiting his family, isn't he?”

“Getting a cover-up,” Seb mumbles in reply, as he actually blushes.

“Cover up of what?!”

Which is how Nico finds out his friend has a horrifically faded 90s-esque tattoo of barbed wire around his bicep, a lá Pamela Anderson, and laughs so hard that he cries.

“Exactly,” Seb agrees, as Lewis comes over, his trainee kid sterilizing his station as they all wave a wincing Antonio goodbye.

“Ready, Seb?” Lewis holds out a design on stenciling paper. It’s really quite beautifully done, stalks of lavender, a black-eyed Susan, some purple and yellow pansies, all with a few bees dotted about. It’s so realistically drawn that Nico can almost hear the buzzing, can almost smell the flowers.

“Oh, it’s great!” Seb beams.

“Want me to hold your hand?” Nico can’t resist calling after him, as Pierre tells him he’s allowed to stand now and can leave if he wants.

“Fuck off,” Seb laughs, so Nico checks on Yuki, who’s also finished and beaming with pride at the reflection of his little sleeping fox in the mirror. Yuki hugs him happily when Nico touches his arm.

“That looks great!”

“I like that.” Yuki points at the little diamond stud in Nico’s nostril.

“You should have done a septum, Pierre, since Nico is so stubborn, like a bull!” Seb looks pathetically proud of his joke, as Lewis starts cleaning his bicep.

“You should shut the fuck up,” Nico tells him, leaving the parlour at last to pay at the counter.

“I’ll pay for Yuki’s too,” he tells Valtteri, who’s ringing him up.

The black anthurium seems to be doing well, Nico notes, when he ducks into Lewis' office and checks the soil wetness with a fingertip before he leaves. He also checks the door to his store, which is indeed locked, then hurries away home before Yuki can tell him off for paying for his tattoo.

*

Yuki insists on taking him for a drink the next night at Fernando’s, which Nico agrees to because by God does he need it, he’s so stressed.

“I never want to do another bridal bouquet again,” he groans to Yuki, who nods in understanding as he orders for them.

Nico lets his favourite employee chatter away to him about his classes, which he seems to actually enjoy, unlike any other student Nico has even known, and doesn’t even whine when Pierre joins them uninvited.

Alex, George, Mick and Lewis’ trainee all settle at the booth next to them, and everyone except Mick seems to be egging the kid on about something.

“Do it,” Pierre is hissing over his shoulder at the trainee, who's hiding his bright red face of embarrassment in his hands. 

“You will be such a legend if you do, mate,” George pipes up from over the rim of his cosmopolitan.

“What are you all up to?” Lewis asks as he appears out of thin air next to Nico and eyeing the guys warily.

The trainee goes even redder and can’t meet Lewis’ eye. “Apparently there’s a shot called...”

“Called what?” Lewis sounds hot when he’s suspicious, his voice all slow and tense.

“A blowjob,” the kid squeaks, before he drops his face into his arms.

“We’re trying to get him to go order one from Carlos,” Pierre giggles, as Mick shakes his head frantically to indicate he’s not taking part in this.

“You don’t have to do something like that,” Lewis says to his trainee. “Just ask him out, if you like him!”

“Yeah, like you’re such a shining example,” Pierre snorts into his negroni.

Feeling a little awkward with the way everyone is suddenly now staring at him, for some reason, Nico drains his drink and touches Yuki’s arm.

“Thanks, Yuki. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

But Lewis catches him up once he’s stepped outside and is shrugging on his tan Burberry coat.

“Hey, Nico...”

“Hi.” Nico shoots him a glance, tries not admire how his profile is illuminated gold in the street-light. “What’s up?”

“Are we cool, man?” Lewis steps a little closer, balancing up on the toes of his converse and then rocking back down, restless. He looks weird. He looks... nervous.

“Sure? Aside from the fact that you’re my biggest rival.”

“You’re still annoyed about me doing that cover-up for Christian last year?” Lewis shakes his head, the beads interwoven on the ends of his braids rattling. Fuck, he’s pretty.

“Of course! You stole business right out from under my nose! We’ve been competitors ever since, obviously!”

“Obviously,” Lewis murmurs, somehow standing really very close now. “OK. I’ll come buy a bouquet off you right now, and put an end to it? I’ll even buy enough to go over what Christian paid me, so you can make a profit beyond what I apparently stole off you.”

“Why?” Nico tilts his head back to eye him, trying to pretend he doesn’t see most of the occupants of the bar watching them, except for Max and Dan, who are making out against the pool table. Yuki has climbed up onto Pierre’s back to be able to see over everyone else, who are all pressed to the windows.

This is all very suspicious.

“Why would you do that?” he asks again, as Lewis fidgets with his rings, spinning one of them on his finger.

“’Cos I... I don’t think I wanna be ‘rivals’ anymore, man!”

“Why not?” Nico is getting more and more confused. “That’s... that’s our thing, that’s what we do.”

“According to you! I didn’t realize you were actually serious! I thought... I don’t know what I thought, really.”

Why is Lewis getting so upset about this?

“How could you think anything else?! You churn out trick after ploy to constantly undermine my business!” Nico starts ticking them off on his fingers. “Hiring someone new; your spring sale; the renovation and painting you had done a few months back; the rebranding at the start of the year...”

“Are you kidding me?!” Lewis is starting to look angry now, and it’s distractingly hot. “How the Hell do my business decisions and successes impact you?! You’re a florist!”

“Because you do it to get to me, to put me out of business! Because you’re so pretty and successful and interesting, and your work is so amazing that people come from all over, and if I’m still operating in a few years it will be sheer blind luck!”

Nico doesn’t quite know why there’s tears in his eyes, but OK, apparently that’s happening now too.

“But the jokes’ on you,” he carries on, wiping roughly at his eyes and refusing to back down, despite the horrified expression on Lewis’ face. “The joke’s on you, because we’re expanding our model into a new area, and it’s going to work and we’re going to be fucking fine. So suck on that!”

Lewis is shaking his head, still looking angry. “I really can’t believe you. To think Seb’s been in my ear since the first week I moved here, trying to get me to ask you out! And all along you’ve only seen me as a competitor?!”

“He... what?” Nico blinks, thrown. Inside the bar Seb freezes like a deer in headlights, then ducks down to hide under one of the tables, not seeming to realize he’s still fully in Nico’s view through the glass. “Why would he... I don’t know why he would do that? That’s not...”

“Look, forget it. Forget everything,” Lewis spits as he backs away with his hands raised. “I obviously massively misinterpreted what was going on between us. I think it’s best we just keep away from each other from now on. Good luck with your expansion.”

He storms off down the street, and Nico doesn’t move a muscle until Valtteri jostles him a little when he comes out to jog after his friend. Inside the bar Nico sees Charles watching him with wide, horrified eyes through his fingers, and next to him Mick looks agonized with worry.

Seb slowly comes out from under the table and starts to call to him through the glass.

“Nico! Nico, I’m sorry, I was only trying to help!”

“Fuck you,” Nico mutters without heat, before he turns around and bolts for home.

*

With everything now gone utterly to shit, Nico takes a week of leave and holes up in his house. He exists on take-away and the food Mick keeps leaving on his doorstep, unasked for but very welcome.

Seb has a key, but knows better than to invade Nico’s privacy by using it without permission. His friend does spend most of his Sunday sitting on the doorstep and calling apologies through the letter-slot, but Nico ignores him, just burrows deeper into his pillow and pulls his blankets over his head.

The week itself both drags and races by. Nico does nothing but watch Netflix, drink, eat and sleep.

He ignores his phone, except for the one time Kimi calls in a panic that the air-con in the cool room had stopped. After giving him the repairman’s number, Nico hung up immediately.

Seb comes by every morning and evening the whole week, too, but Nico can’t bear to listen to him, just pulls on his headphones and turns some music up until his friend leaves at last.

Nico does go back to work the week after, pointedly not looking over the road even once, ignoring his employees unless they have a genuine need of him, and confining himself to his office with his door shut.

Then Mick knocks and timidly pokes his head around the door-frame late on Tuesday, a slice of carrot cake in a box in his hands, his eyes nervous.

“If Seb sent you, that’s a really low blow,” Nico mutters to him, not taking his eyes from his laptop screen as he types an email to the rose farm that supplies him.

“He didn’t!” Mick Schumacher would never tell a lie, but that doesn’t mean Seb didn’t engineer this situation somehow. “I’m here all on my own!”

“Why?” Nico mutters, taking the cake and starting to eat it with the plastic fork Mick included in the box. He’d skipped lunch.

“Can you come over the road with me? I’m getting a tattoo and I’m really nervous. Everyone else is busy or working...”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mick. Lewis doesn’t want to see me. And I don’t want to see him.”

“Lewis isn’t there! He’s been off sick since Friday. I’ve already been over just now to check, and Valtteri says he’s still stuffed up with a cold.”

“Oh.” Nico’s heart sinks in worry.

Mick gives him his best puppy eyes as he finishes the cake, and Nico gives in, because it feels like it would be illegal to say no to him. “I’ll come hold your hand then, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Mick gasps in relief, leaning down to hug him.

The baker indeed gets paler in just the time it takes for them to cross the street, and by the time Valtteri has him settled (the tattooist’s back pointedly kept to Nico the whole time), Mick is looking rather green.

He flinches even when Valtteri presses the stencil of the tattoo, a mountain ridge-line dotted with pine trees, in place along the outer bone of his forearm.

Once Mick is actively trembling, as Valtteri sets a fresh needle into his gun, Nico tightens his grip on his free hand.

“Mick,” he calls softly, attracting the wide-eyed, frightened gaze. Once he has Mick’s attention, Nico starts telling him the first thing that pops into his head, an old fairytale for children, inspired by the wolf tattooed on Valtteri's neck. He switches to German so that no one else can overhear the nonsense he’s resorting to.

It works; Mick lets out a little laugh and murmurs, “I haven’t heard that one in years, it was my sister’s favourite when we were kids.”

Nico patiently tells the story, and by the time he’s done the tattoo is half finished. Mick isn’t completely relaxed – who would be – but he looks to be coping OK now.

“So, Lewis is sick?” Nico asks Valtteri, not even realizing his traitorous mouth was going to speak until it’s too late.

Valtteri lets out a hum of confirmation but doesn’t look up.

“Sorry to hear that,” Nico mumbles.

“He has been working too hard recently. Got too run down,” Valtteri murmurs so quiet that Nico almost can’t make out the words.

“Ah.”

“I was going to check on him after work, but you might like to go instead? I have a date night with my girlfriend anyway, and I’d rather not make Tiff sick from Lewis by accident.”

Still Valtteri doesn’t look up, but Mick raises his eyebrows pointedly at Nico.

“You did plan this, didn’t you?” Nico asks his young friend.

“Maybe a tiny bit,” Mick admits.

“But just a little,” Valtteri agrees.

“He won’t want to see me,” Nico points out.

“He wants to fucking do more than just see you,” Pierre calls out over his shoulder from his piercing bench, before he shoots metal into Este’s ear. Nico hadn’t even realized the two Frenchmen were in the room.

“He made it quite clear...”

“Go,” Valtteri interrupts. “Or I let Pierre loose on you with the sharpest piercing jewellery we have.”

“Yes, please,” Pierre begs.

Mick pats Nico’s hand with his free fingers, then lets it go.

So, Nico goes, dawdling out of the shop and dragging his feet along the side-walk. He doesn’t know what to say to Lewis, only that how badly he’s missed him this past week has hurt in a way he hadn’t quite expected.

He’s had a thing for Lewis all along, sure, because anyone with eyes ought to, he’s fucking hot. But Nico’s attraction had always played second fiddle, or so he thought, to their rivalry, to the need to outdo and impress him, to the competitiveness... that Nico was slowly coming to accept might not really have ever been competitiveness after all.

Wanting to delay a bit longer, he heads into Fernando’s and wanders up to the counter, pretending not to see Seb sitting in the restaurant with Charles. Nico still hasn't spoken to his friend, or returned any of his calls or messages.

“Hey, Fernando,” Nico murmurs, and the Spaniard actually looks pleased to see him.

“You have been away for a long time.”

“Yeah. Well. Hey, can you guys make soup?”

“We do tapas. Soup is not tapas.”

“I know, Fernando. I’ll pay extra. Lewis is sick. I want to get him something better than grocery store canned shit, and do I look like I can cook?!” Nico gestures to his tailored white trousers and his Ralph Lauren sweater as evidence.

“Will make,” Fernando grumbles, waving him away. “Sit. Wait.”

He goes back into the kitchen and what seems to be a rather aggressive argument with Checo ensues.

Carlos lounges against the bar, toying with his labret piercing as he leers at Lewis’ trainee, who’s at the pool table with Dan.

“Lewis is vegetarian, no?” the bartender asks Nico at one point, when the yelling from the kitchen has gotten louder.

“Vegan,” Nico corrects, not quite recalling how he knows that. “So no meat or dairy or animal products.”

“Si, I know vegan,” Carlos nods, then calls in Spanish back into the kitchen.

Checo lets out an agonized wail.

“They’re trying to decide if chicken stock is vegan,” Carlos explains.

“Of course it’s not!”

Checo groans again, and it sounds as though he may be about to cry.

“Come on, man. Lewis has eaten here before, you must be able to cook something vegan! I’ll do the next arrangements for free,” Nico calls.

Lewis' trainee comes up then, pink-cheeked and babbling to Carlos, who in turn looks like the sun has just come up.

Checo moves to a part of the kitchen Nico can see him from through the open window, and he watches in trepidation as the chef adds an unnatural amount of chilis to a pan.

“We don’t want to kill him, remember, Checo.”

Checo shoots him an unimpressed look that rivals the one Fernando aims at Carlos when he comes back out to the bar.

Carlos is mixing up something for the trainee kid that involves pink gin.

“This is a new recipe, called Por favor déjame follarte.”

Fernando lets out a scream and punches Carlos in the arm. Nico doesn’t bother trying to hide his laughter.

Half an hour later, which is about 25 minutes longer than Nico really expected the process to have taken, Romain is sliding a take-out bowl with a lid into a paper bag and pushing it across the bar to him.

“It’s sort of a spiced vegetable soup with lemon, and I made Checo go easy on the chilli.”

“Thank you,” Nico breathes out, grabbing for his wallet, but Romain waves him off.

“No need to pay, but Fernando wants those free floral arrangements.”

“Sure, sure.”

He’s already outside before Seb catches up to him, clutching at his arm to pull Nico to a stop.

Swearing, and almost dropping the bag, Nico scowls at him.

“I’m sorry, Nico!” He looks it, his blue eyes agonized, but Nico really doesn’t have the energy to talk to him right now.

“You’ve been egging me on for a year, Seb! Do you know how stupid I’ve been?! And you’ve made me a laughing-stock of the whole village!”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you! I thought you’d figure it out for yourself, or that Lewis would bite the bullet and ask you out like he’s been intending to all along! I thought it was sweet, and cute, that your silly brain was misguiding you so badly! I thought it would be a funny story to tell at your wedding!”

“Well none of it was funny to me,” Nico mutters.

“I wasn’t doing it to make fun of you, or to upset you! I know I stir, but I thought you were building up to figuring it out! I didn’t want to push when you weren’t ready to be pushed!”

“Look, I want to get this to him while it’s hot. I’ll come by for breakfast tomorrow, we can talk then,” Nico sighs, and Seb hugs him tightly in relief.

Lewis’ house is just a 10 minute walk from the main street, in a leafy part of the village that borders a large park.

Roscoe barks at the door after Nico knocks, and it’s awhile before Lewis pulls it open, holding his dog back with his calf.

He’s shirtless, and Nico damn near shoves the bag into his bare chest to keep from staring at the muscle definition and tattoos.

“Heard you were sick. Got you this,” he says by way of explanation.

Lewis blinks at him, then rubs at bleary eyes before he peers into the bag.

“Oh. Oh! Is it for me?”

“Obviously,” Nico mutters, as Lewis carefully pulls out the bowl. “It’s soup.”

“Really? You got me soup? I didn’t know Fernando’s had soup on the menu.”

“Yeah, no. They don’t. Checo was very confused. Kept trying to sneak chicken into it. Don’t worry!” Nico adds hastily when he sees Lewis’ panicked expression. “It’s just veg and potentially an unholy amount of chilli.”

“I can’t smell or taste, thanks to being stuffed up with this cold,” Lewis gestures vaguely at his face. “But thanks. Thanks so much, it’s really kind of you, Nico. I’ve been surviving on tea and toast, and whatever someone - I think it's Mick - keeps leaving on my doorstep.”

“Hope it helps you to feel better,” Nico offers.

“Hm,” Lewis nods, cradling the bowl to his chest. “How’ve you been, this week? You weren’t around for most of it, at least, or not whenever I went over to the shop.”

“You came to my shop?” Nico feels himself start to blush, but refuses to duck his head.

“Yeah. We gotta sort this shit out, man.”

“OK. Well. I think I'm in love with you. That might be a good place to start.”

Lewis blinks at him, then bursts out laughing until he starts to cough and has to lay the soup down on a side-table just inside the door to cover his mouth with his elbow. Roscoe takes his opportunity to get to Nico and sniff his shoes like he’s been trying to since the door opened.

Nico crouches down to pet him before gently urging him back into the house once Lewis recovers his fit.

“You can’t just say it like that!” Lewis wheezes, still coughing into his fist.

“How else am I supposed to say it?” Nico wonders. “It’s gone unsaid for too long, and I don’t want let it warp itself into something else ever again.”

And God, Lewis is so cute, so bloody attractive, smiling at him like that, that Nico’s leaning in to kiss him without even thinking.

But he’s met with a surprised squeak and Lewis places his palm on his chest to hold him off. “Um. What are you doing?!”

“Oh no,” Nico murmurs, his blood running cold. “Oh, fuck, I misunderstood. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to!” Lewis bursts out, still looking panicked, his hand sliding up to curl around the back of Nico’s neck. “Because I do! But I’m still sick, man.”

“Right,” Nico breathes, still feeling numb. “Sick. Not good.”

“Not good.” Lewis nods. “But once I’m over this, believe me, the first thing I’m going to do is be knocking on your door. OK?”

“OK.”

“And for the record, I would have asked you out ages ago if you weren’t constantly charging into the parlour and screaming your pretty head off about me apparently trying to run you out of business,” Lewis murmurs. “Way to give a guy the wrong impression, man.”

“I really don’t know why what I feel manifested itself that way,” Nico murmurs. “But make good on your offer to buy a couple of bouquets, and I might even forgive you?”

Lewis' smile in response makes every single shit feeling Nico's ever had in his life suddenly worth it.

*

Dating Lewis Hamilton is so much better than being his rival, Nico is quick to discover, once the awkwardness of starting a relationship and shifting their dynamic resolves itself after a few weeks into making out in Nico’s office, dates anywhere other than Fernando’s bar and a lot of loud screaming when Pierre walks in on them in a compromising position in the bathroom at the parlour one evening.

Nico will maintain until his dying day that it’s somehow Pierre’s fault, because he definitely locked the toilet door.

“I know I did,” he insists against Lewis’s lips, once they make it home and he’s being pressed down onto the bed, the echo of Pierre’s scream still seeming to ring in his ears. “I know I did, because I turned the lock...”

“Shut up about Pierre,” Lewis murmurs, teeth grazing down his throat, and Nico throws his head back with a moan.

OK, so maybe the competitiveness doesn’t quite end so easily.

“You’ve got another thing coming if you think you’re gonna outlast me,” Nico pants to Lewis a little later, when he’s trying not to let his eyes roll at how thick and perfect Lewis feels inside of him.

Lewis, who is already breathing hard, squints up at him in confusion.

“Seriously? You’re turning even this into a competition?”

“Damn right. And I won’t lose,” Nico vows, letting his hips start to circle slowly until Lewis’ head drops back on the pillow and he whimpers, he fucking whimpers.

“Jesus wept, there’s something fundamentally wrong with you,” Lewis chokes out once he can speak again, wrapping the hand that’s still slick with lube from prepping Nico gently around his cock.

“Probably,” Nico concedes, before he leans down to pin both of Lewis’ wrists to the pillow by his head. “Just don’t cheat!”

“How am I cheating? Oh, damn, Nico!” Lewis grits out, when Nico starts to fuck himself back on him, taking care to keep him held down.

“You’re not winning this,” Nico growls, before he gives in and kisses him, capturing the little whines of pleasure that are falling from Lewis’ lips.

When he judges Lewis to be too far gone to fight back with any of his dirty tricks, Nico lets his wrists go and sits back up so he can ride him properly, loving the sight of Lewis already starting to fall apart beneath him.

“Nico!” Lewis cries out, scrabbling helplessly at his chest, his hips, his cock, like he can’t decide where to touch. “Nico, fuck, Nico, Nico...”

“You look like you’re about to lose,” Nico points out, leaning back to plant his hands on Lewis’ thighs so he can get more leverage to move even faster.

“You’re so unsportsmanlike!” isn’t quite what he imagined hearing Lewis groan when he came in him for the first time, but whatever. There will be plenty of chances for something more romantic in all the years they’ll stop wasting apart, now.

Nico feels particularly triumphant at the way Lewis hasn’t even caught his breath yet, as he finishes himself off with his hand then sinks down to lie on top of him, as much of their bodies pressed together as possible.

God it feels good to win.

“Wake me up when you’re ready for round two,” Lewis mumbles drowsily into his neck. “We’ll go best of three.”

“What’s the prize for the victor?” Nico asks, nosing at his cheek.

“Victor gets to stay in bed tomorrow while the loser goes to get breakfast and coffee from Seb’s?”

“You’re on,” Nico smirks, even though Lewis is already slipping into sleep. “Losing looks better on you, anyway.”

*

Eighteen months on, a rather icy autumn morning finds Nico huddled at a table in Seb’s cafe. He clings to his warm latte like the lifeline it is, as his friend comes over to drop down into a seat opposite him.

Seb’s got that old mischievous glint in his eye, and Nico raises his eyebrows at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Seb smirks, his pitch clearly indicating its Something.

“I would have thought a month long honeymoon in Italy would have mellowed you out, but you’ve somehow come back more annoying,” Nico grumbles, before he pokes at the miserable excuse for a panini that’s on his plate. “This is crap, by the way. I want Mick back.”

“He’s not coming back from Paris just to make you breakfast. It will be a miracle if he comes back at all. Once he graduates patisserie school he’ll be in demand worldwide, just you wait,” Seb smiles proudly.

Nico pouts. Really, his life is very unfair.

Seb goes back to his weird smirking, fiddling absently with his wedding band as he does so.

“Will you knock it off!” Nico snaps, when the expression gets too annoying.

“It’s nothing,” Seb insists, his grin broadening. “But... have you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“What Lewis is going to do.”

“What do you mean what Lewis is going to do? Lewis isn’t doing anything! ... Is he?”

“There’s some plans, I hear... Charles said.”

Nico narrows his eyes, because he fucking knew it. “He’s buying a premises in London, isn’t he? I knew it! I knew there was a reason he wouldn’t tell me why he and Valtteri went down there last week! That liar!”

He storms out into street and stamps the whole way to Haminkton, knocking angrily at the door because they’re not open yet, until Lando appears and unlocks it.

“Morning, Nico!”

“I’ve never met you before in my life, how do you know my name?” Nico barges past him and into the warmth of the store. “Where’s Lewis?”

From the parlour Pierre gives him the finger, his typical daily greeting.

“He’s at your shop, isn’t he?” Dan asks, not looking up from where he’s setting out some ink. “Maxy said he was in your office reading the plans for your expansion into the site next door.”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Nico sprints out of the parlour, damn near bowling Lando over in his haste to skid over the road and into Roseberg’s.

“LEWIS, YOU CHEAT! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE! JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN-”

“He’s not here,” Kimi interrupts from where he’s sitting in the cool room. “Shut up yelling.”

“Dan said that Max said-”

“He was here, then he left,” Max calls from the courtyard, where he’s tying a lemon tree sapling to a stake. “Hey can you go back and ask Dan wants he wants me to make for dinner?”

“Fuck off,” Nico mutters distractedly, sticking his head into his office anyway just to check, because he doesn’t trust either of his lazy employees to notice if their heads were on fire.

Finding it indeed empty, he huffs and folds his arms as he paces the shop floor.

“Well, where did he bloody go, then?”

“To Fernando’s, I think?”

“Fernando’s isn’t open, Max,” Nico grumbles, because duh.

Max just shrugs, keeping his back to him. “You asked a question, I gave you the answer. Fernando’s.”

Nico lets out an angry snarl as he does his scarf back up and shoulders his way out into the street. He has to hammers on Fernando’s door for ages before Carlos finally opens it.

“What the hell are you guys doing here so early! You don’t open until 4 pm!” Nico snarls. “Also where the fuck is my boyfriend!”

“How should I know this?”

“Max said he came here!”

“No? I do not see him. We are not open. We do not open until 4,” even as he speaks, Carlos takes his phone out and texts someone.

“By the way, did you see mi amor, earlier? Is he still limping?”

“No? I don’t know, why the fuck would he be... oh, Carlos, ugh, shut the fuck up!”

Carlos smirks, until Fernando appears to grab his shoulder and shove him away from the door, snarling something in Spanish.

“What want?” Fernando eventually rounds on Nico, as Carlos giggles in the background.

“Have you seen Lewis? Was he here?”

“Not here. Not open. We only open at 4,” Fernando grunts, before he shuts the door in his face.

Nico gapes at them for a full minute through the glass before he screams in rage and stomps back to Seb's cafe.

“What’s up your butt?” George asks him cheerfully, as he kindly makes Nico another coffee for free because he’s about to have a fucking meltdown.

“Lewis is bloody holding out on me! He’s bought a premises in London just to rub my nose in how well his business is doing! He's expanding, can you damn well believe it?”

“Are you sure that’s what he’s done?” George eyes him as he froths the milk.

“Yes! He’s only doing it to piss me off because I bought the empty shop next door to me to expand into. So of course Lewis has to do one better!”

“...OK...” George doesn’t look overly convinced, but whatever, Nico doesn’t care.

He throws himself back down at his table and sulks until Seb dawdles over, fidgeting with his apron.

“You’re the cause of all this bullshit!” Nico points an accusatory finger at him. “And I can’t even find Lewis!”

“Oh dear,” Seb smirks. “You’ve lost him, have you?”

“What’s going on?” Charles asks as he comes through the door, pulling off his beanie and straightening his hair, having caught the tail end of the conversation.

“Your bloody husband is a shit-stirrer!”

“What have you done now?” Charles asks Seb, as he slides an arm around his waist.

“Nothing! I haven’t done anything, ever! It’s not my fault Nico may have heard of some plans and now can’t find Lewis anywhere!”

“I heard he was at Fernando’s,” Charles says to Nico.

“Are you sure?” Seb asks, pulling out his phone and checking it. “I thought he was at the parlour.”

“He’s not anywhere,” Nico grumbles. “He’s probably in London buying a whole street of shops.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find him soon,” Seb comforts, patting Nico on the head. “Where was the last place you saw him?”

“At home?”

“Maybe he’s still there, then,” Charles suggests, hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Maybe,” Nico murmurs, eyeing him. “What the fuck are you smiling for?”

“No reason!” Charles turns away, giggling, and George hisses for him to shut up.

Still staring at them, the weirdos, Nico stands up and makes his way slowly out into the street. Why is everyone so fucking strange? Maybe Lewis is converting the whole fucking village into one great big tattoo parlour, and everyone’s in on it but Nico.

Because something fucking odd is going on – as he passes Fernando’s the entire staff is watching him out the window, and Fernando himself is talking on the phone to someone.

Fucking traitorous pricks, the lot of them.

To say Nico’s wound himself up into an exceptionally pissed off state by the time he bursts through the front door of his home would be putting it lightly.

“LEWIS!” He yells, before he bends to pet Roscoe, who follows at his heels as he storms through the house. “LEWIS, YOU BETTER FUCKING BE HERE! YOU ARE IN SO MUCH GOD DAMN TROUBLE! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD DO THIS TO ME!”

“Can’t believe I’d do what?” Lewis asks when Nico finally finds him standing in their living room, his expression perfectly calm.

“YOU BOUGHT AN ENTIRE STREET OF SHOPS IN LONDON-” Nico shuts up when he looks around the room.

There’s candles on every surface, white rose petals all over the floor, and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. Lewis is wearing his best Ralph Lauren suit and all his favourite jewellery in his ears and on his fingers.

“What the fuck?”

Lewis raises his eyebrows at him in question.

“Have you finished yelling? Can I propose now?”

“Propose?” Nico whispers weakly, as Lewis gets down on one knee at his feet. “You’re not proposing... are you?”

“Well, I’m trying to.”

“But Seb said... I thought... London...”

“Oh, yeah,” Lewis ducks his head, grinning. “I forget how much fun he has making you look like a twat, but I needed him to make sure you didn’t come home while I set all this up.”

“But... you were at the parlour, then my shop, then Fernando’s...”

“I wasn't anywhere. Everyone was just keeping you busy running around in circles while I got things organized here,” Lewis explains, as he pulls out a ring box from his inner jacket pocket.

“What about London?” Nico begs helplessly, still not comprehending what the fuck is happening. “You went to London to look at a new premises with Valtteri?”

“No? Where did you hear that? We went to London so he - well, actually, Tiff - could help me pick this,” Lewis opens the box, displaying a platinum band studded with black diamonds.

“... but...”

“Oh, don’t tell me. Your weirdly competitive brain decided to invent some utterly bullshit reason for what I was doing? I was never looking at shops! After we get married, are you finally going to stop declaring yourself my arch-enemy every time I make a new business decision?”

“Probably not,” Nico murmurs, as Lewis rolls his eyes at the ceiling.

“For some unknown reason, I really want to marry you anyway. So? Can I propose now? Are you ready?” Lewis smiles up at him, and Nico kind of wants this moment to stretch on forever.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready,” he whispers back, offering Lewis his hand at last.