Chapter Text
Wednesday passed like a gray blur. Gabriel woke up at his usual time, had his balanced breakfast, put on a spotless gray button-up shirt, and headed to Aventum Group. He didn’t have class that morning, so he went to work earlier than usual. He did everything expected of him, smiled in meetings, submitted reports ahead of schedule, and excelled at what he did best.
But for the first time in his meticulously planned life, he felt like an actor on a bad stage. Everything seemed too sterile. The air was too cold, the smell of cleaning products too chemical, and the people… way too polished. No one spoke loud, no one looked at him with that sharp blue intensity capable of stripping his soul — and maybe his clothes — in seconds.
Halfway through an important video call with investors from London, he caught himself rubbing his left cheek. The exact spot where Nico’s thumb had been the night before burned, a ghostly mark no expensive facial cleanser could wash off.
"Gabriel? The cost projection?"
Oliver’s voice snapped him back. Gabriel blinked, realizing his friend was staring at him from across the glass table, one eyebrow raised.
"Ah… yeah. Of course," he straightened, sliding the tablet forward. "It’s on page twelve. Logistics went up 4%."
Oliver accepted the answer, but at lunch, he didn’t let it go.
"You’re acting weird," Oliver declared, simply, stabbing a piece of chicken. "You’re spaced out. And you never space out. What did that ogre do to you? Hypnotize you or something?"
"Don’t be ridiculous, Ollie," Gabriel said, taking a sip of water to hide his nerves. "I’m tired. Balancing college, the internship, and the… night consulting has been rough."
"Night consulting," Oliver snorted. "You talk like it’s a second job at the Royal Mint and not sorting invoices in a garage that probably breaks ten health codes."
Gabriel didn’t reply. He couldn’t explain to Oliver that the health code hazard was the only thing making his blood rush right now. He couldn’t say he was counting the hours on the office clock, not for the end of the shift, but for Thursday night.
The rest of the day, and all of Thursday, became an exercise in self inflicted psychological torture. When the clock finally hit 7 p.m., Gabriel felt a wave of relief so strong it made him dizzy. He rushed home, took a quick shower, and stood in front of his closet. A cruel doubt hit him. Should he go formal again? Nico had mocked him for that. He grabbed a plain black shirt and jeans. He put them on, looked in the mirror, and felt… ordinary. A twenty one year old kid, the way he was supposed to be.
"Nope," he muttered at his reflection.
He wasn’t going to change who he was just to please a mechanic. If Nico thought he was a "princess," then Gabriel would be full royalty. He ripped off the casual clothes and chose a white linen button up — slightly more relaxed, but still elegant — and navy tailored pants. A spritz of perfume. Armor. And he had the feeling he’d need every bit of protection that night.
The shop looked different. No loud music. The garage sat in a yellowish dimness, broken only by the metallic clinks of tools hitting metal. The gate was open. Gabriel parked in the usual spot, anxiety and excitement bubbling in his stomach.
He stepped inside, searching for Nico. The Opala was no longer on the lift. In its place was an enormous old pickup, hood open. Nico wasn’t in sight.
"Nico?" Gabriel called, his voice echoing.
"Down here."
The voice came from under the truck. Gabriel approached and saw Nico’s legs sticking out, covered by a dark blue coverall stained with grease. The mechanic’s cart slid back and Nico emerged from beneath the chassis.
If he’d looked dirty on Tuesday, tonight he was chaos incarnate. A black smear streaked across his forehead; his blond hair was damp with sweat; he held a screwdriver like a weapon. Nico blinked, focusing on him, then scanned Gabriel from top to bottom, stopping at the crisp white linen.
"You’re stubborn, huh?" Nico said, wiping his hands on a rag that was already pitch black. He didn’t get up, staying laid back on the cart, looking up at Gabriel from below. An angle Gabriel found disturbingly unfair. "Showed up dressed for a wedding."
"Hi to you too," Gabriel replied, trying to hold his voice steady. "I came to work. Is the office open?"
"Never closed," Nico grunted, pushing himself up with a smooth movement, all core strength.
He stood, not much taller, but his sheer presence seemed to suck all oxygen from the room. He smelled like hard work and gasoline.
"You eat?" Nico asked, walking toward a mini fridge in the corner, ignoring Gabriel’s formality entirely.
"Yeah. At home. Like you told me," Gabriel answered.
Nico paused with his hand on the fridge door and looked back, a small smirk tugging at his mouth.
"Good boy," he said.
It was simple. It was devastating. Gabriel felt his face burn violently. Good boy. He hated how right it sounded. Hated how his body reacted, a shiver running down his spine and sinking low.
Nico grabbed a cold water bottle and tossed it to him. Gabriel caught it midair.
"Hydrate. It’s an oven up there tonight. Roof soaked up heat all day," Nico warned, opening a beer for himself. "Go on. I’ll be up there soon. Just gotta finish bleeding these damn brakes."
Gabriel nodded, unable to form anything smart after a "good boy," and hurried up the stairs, fleeing Nico’s gravitational pull.
The office was unbearable. The air felt solid from the heat. He set the bottle down, pulled out his phone, and stared at the mountain of paperwork waiting for him.
"Okay. Focus, Gabriel. Focus," he whispered.
He sat, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and began, but focus was scarce. Nico’s noises traveled up through the glass, clinking metal, grunts, compressed air. Gabriel tried adding up part expenses, but his mind drew scenes of him going down those stairs and… doing what? Holding the flashlight? Getting dirty on purpose?
An hour passed. The heat was unreal. Gabriel had rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders, skin shining with sweat, hair sticking to his neck. Suddenly, the door opened.
Gabriel jumped. Nico walked in. He brought with him the smell of ozone and fresh sweat. He’d tied the sleeves of his coverall around his waist, wearing only a black tank top, soaked and clinging to his chest and abs.
"It’s hot as hell in here," Nico pointed out, shutting the door and trapping them again in the sauna.
"Yeah," Gabriel rasped. "I’m almost done with fiscal year 2023. Just November and December left, which are somehow mixed in with 2018."
Nico let out a low laugh and approached the desk. He didn’t go to his side. He walked behind Gabriel’s chair.
Gabriel froze. He could feel Nico’s body heat behind him, like a furnace. Nico set one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the table, caging him in with strong arms and a smell that wasn’t his own.
Nico leaned in to look at the spreadsheet over Gabriel’s shoulder. His face came dangerously close to his ear. Gabriel stopped breathing.
"You’ve got nice handwriting," Nico murmured, his voice vibrating straight down Gabriel’s spine. "All neat. Round."
"It… it needs to be legible," Gabriel whispered, terrified of moving their faces any closer.
Nico didn’t pull back. If anything, he leaned a millimeter closer. Gabriel could see, in the corner of his eye, Nico’s dirty arms, the golden hairs, the veins from physical work.
"You’re tense," Nico observed. It wasn’t a question.
Before Gabriel could deny it, the hand on the chair moved. Those big, rough fingers rested on the junction of his neck and shoulder.
The touch was electric. Gabriel let out a shaky breath that echoed too loudly. Nico squeezed the tight muscle, kneading it with frightening precision. Brutal, not gentle, but incredibly effective.
"Stiff as a rock," Nico said, thumb pressing into a sore point. "Relax, kid. I don’t bite."
A pause. The thumb stroked the sweaty skin of his neck.
"…Unless you ask."
The sentence hung in the air, heavy and dangerous. Gabriel closed his eyes, his head dropping back slightly toward Nico’s chest, surrendering to the heat and the insanity of the moment. The spreadsheet was forgotten.
"Nico…" Gabriel tried to warn or to beg.
"Shh," Nico breathed, his free hand sliding across the desk toward Gabriel’s hand holding the pen. "Keep working. I like watching you be useful."
The pen slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the spreadsheet.
Writing was impossible. Thinking was impossible. Math was impossible with Nico Hülkenberg’s hand on his neck like he owned that patch of skin.
Gabriel’s heart pounded fast enough to echo in his ears. Nico’s thumb traced slow circles at the base of his neck.
"You stopped," Nico whispered, his beard grazing Gabriel’s ear, sending a shock straight between his legs. "Lost count, princess?"
Gabriel swallowed, gripping the desk until his knuckles whitened.
"You… you’re distracting me," he managed, his voice rough, needy. "I can’t focus with you… doing that."
"Doing what?" Nico teased.
He slid his hand up from Gabriel’s neck to his jaw. Calloused fingers scraped gently against smooth skin. Nico tilted Gabriel’s head back slightly, forcing him to look up, though Gabriel still couldn’t see his face, only feel his heat.
"Relaxing you?" Nico continued, warm breath hitting Gabriel’s cheek. "You’re too rigid, Gabriel. So tense… feels like you’ll break if I squeeze a little harder."
"I won’t break," Gabriel whispered, eyes shut, fighting the urge to lean into that touch. "I just… I need to finish this. It’s the last stack."
Nico chuckled low, a vibration Gabriel felt through the chair.
"The last stack," he repeated softly.
Suddenly, he spun the chair around. Gabriel gasped as his knees hit Nico’s thighs. Nico stood there, crowding the small space. The tank top clung to his chest, rising and falling with his breath. His scent shoved everything else out of Gabriel’s mind. Nico planted his hands on the armrests, trapping him. He leaned closer, the grease on his face inches from Gabriel’s clean skin.
"Forget the paperwork for a minute," Nico ordered, voice low and dark. "Look at me."
Gabriel obeyed. He couldn’t not.
"You come here," Nico said, "with those fancy clothes, that mall store perfume, and lock yourself in this oven with me. You organize my life, pay my bills, and don’t complain about the heat, the smell or the mess."
Nico lifted one hand, grabbed Gabriel’s chin — not gently — and pressed his thumb, still smeared with grease, against Gabriel’s bottom lip, pulling it down just a little.
"Why the hell are you doing this, Gabriel?" Nico asked, searching his face. "It’s not just about the tow bill. You could’ve paid me triple and never looked at me again."
Gabriel’s breath hitched. Nico’s thumb tasted like metal and salt. It was dirty. It was wrong. And Gabriel wanted, desperately, to taste more.
"I… I wanted… to make sure the job was done right."
Nico smirked. Predatory.
"Liar."
He leaned in so close their noses brushed. Gabriel closed his eyes, bracing for the kiss. His body arched forward, begging for it, ready to be taken right there.
But the kiss didn’t come.
Instead, Nico nuzzled his cheek, inhaling his scent, brushing his beard against the sensitive skin below Gabriel’s ear. Animal. Too intimate.
"You like this," Nico murmured, feeling Gabriel shudder. "You like getting dirty. You like seeing the real world up close, outside your glass box."
He grazed his teeth on the tendon of Gabriel’s neck. The boy gasped, hands flying up to grab the soaked tank top, fingers digging into warm muscle.
"Nico…" Gabriel moaned, the name a plea.
Nico pulled away abruptly. The cold was immediate. Gabriel opened his eyes, dazed and breathless.
Nico stood a step away, running a hand through sweaty hair, breathing hard, wrestling with himself. His eyes burned, but a wall had dropped into place.
"Finish the spreadsheet," Nico said, voice rough. He turned to the window, staring out. "It’s late. I wanna close the shop."
Gabriel sat frozen, skin tingling everywhere Nico had touched. He looked at his own hands. His fingertips were stained, taken from Nico’s tank top.
He had gotten dirty. And Nico was right. He’d liked it.
With shaking hands, Gabriel forced himself to face the numbers. Numbers were safe. Numbers didn’t touch you. Ten minutes later, he capped the pen.
"I’m done," Gabriel said, voice barely there.
Nico turned. His face was closed off again, the mask of "just a rude mechanic" firmly back in place.
"Great." He grabbed the stack of papers, shoved them into a drawer, and kicked it shut.
"So…" Gabriel stood, picking up his phone and keys. He felt strangely exposed. "Everything’s up to date. The invoices are sorted. Cash flow is… positive."
Nico crossed his arms, leaning against the cabinet, blocking the exit. He stared.
"So the debt’s paid," he said.
Gabriel’s heart dropped. That was it? End of the line?
"Yes," he said softly. "It’s paid."
He stepped toward the door, waiting for Nico to move. Nico didn’t. Gabriel looked up. Nico was studying him again, calculation in those blue eyes.
"And now?" Nico asked. "You gonna go back to your perfect life, Gabriel? Tell your little friend you survived the big bad wolf?"
"I didn’t… I didn’t talk shit about you to Oliver," Gabriel murmured.
"Doesn’t matter what you say," Nico cut in, stepping closer again. "Matters what you do. Your car’s new. My bills are paid. You’re a free man."
Nico lifted one finger and tipped Gabriel’s chin up. There was a smear of grease there now. Nico looked pleased.
"But if something else… breaks," Nico whispered, eyes dropping to Gabriel’s mouth, "you know where to find me. I don’t pick up for just anyone at midnight. But I pick up for you."
Gabriel felt the weight of the offer. It wasn’t about cars. It had never been about cars.
"I hope I don’t have car trouble anytime soon," Gabriel whispered back. "But maybe… I’ll need something else."
A slow smile spread across Nico’s face.
"When you figure out what it is," he said, opening the office door at last, "you have my number. Now get out of here before I start charging interest on your time."
Gabriel left, legs weak. The night air outside felt icy on his feverish skin. He got into his car, the clean smell suddenly nauseating and artificial.
He glanced at the rearview mirror. His face was flushed, his eyes still fever-bright, and that dark smear was still on his chin. He turned the engine on but didn’t pull away right away. He looked back at the warehouse. Nico wasn’t standing at the door this time. The lights inside went out, sinking the shop into darkness.
Gabriel drove back toward downtown, but his mind stayed there — in that dirty, hot darkness — caught in the hands of a man who seemed to know exactly which screws to loosen to take him apart completely.
The debt was paid, but Gabriel knew, with a delicious kind of dread, that he was only just starting to owe him.