Chapter Text
It was as if the time Gabriel had asked for wasn’t a clean interval, with a clear beginning, middle, and end. It felt more like a suspension. Like shutting down the machines, stopping the entire factory that was his heart.
Life went on, of course. Classes, the internship, silent dinners with Oliver that now came with long worried looks and half formed questions that were never asked. Everything felt like it was happening behind frosted glass. Gabriel moved, spoke, answered, but his mind was somewhere else, maybe still stuck in that café, in the broken look on Nico’s face, in the words "I’m a coward" looping endlessly.
And he hadn’t ignored Nico, like he’d promised, but their interactions were minimal, clinical. An "I’m okay" in response to a "how are you?" at three in the morning. A dry "thanks" when Nico, knowing Gabriel had an important exam, texted him "good luck, you’re the smartest kid I know."
It was strange. Before, Nico’s silence had been filled with roughness, challenge, or heat. Now it was careful, almost reverent, like he was walking on tiptoe around something fragile. Gabriel hated it. He missed the edge. He missed the man who called him princess with a crooked grin, not the man who typed "please forgive me" like a prayer.
A week after the conversation, on a gray, damp Wednesday, Gabriel was at his internship, reviewing a supplier contract that might as well have been written in Sanskrit. His focus was nonexistent. Every paragraph made him think of the child support agreement Nico had mentioned, of the legal obligations tying his life to another family. The anger was still there, a hot coal in his chest, but now mixed with something worse. Understanding.
He could understand the fear. He could picture Nico in his mid-thirties, terrified by the pregnancy, trying to fit into a life that wasn’t his. He could understand the hesitation to merge two worlds, the messy chaos of complicated fatherhood with the perfect escape Gabriel represented. Understanding, however, wasn’t the same as forgiving.
His phone buzzed on the glass desk. A weather app notification. Severe storm warning in the next two hours.
Gabriel’s heart jumped irrationally. Storm. Broken car. The shop. Nico. The memory was so vivid he could almost smell rain mixed with gasoline, and the strong coffee from Nico’s thermos that night.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. It wasn’t the same. He was safe, in an AC office, miles away from that dark road.
But the seed of worry had been planted. An hour later, with the sky darkening early outside and the first thunder rolling between buildings, Gabriel couldn’t take it anymore. His hands moved on their own.
Gabriel: You got the tow truck out? A lot of people are gonna need help on the road today.
The message sent before he could stop himself. A weak excuse, a bridge thrown over the abyss he’d dug himself. The reply came in under two minutes.
Nico: Tow truck’s here, but I’m on shop duty today. Kevin’s the one out on the road.
And then, after a beat.
Nico: Your car’s good? Tires ok?
The practical, protective question made Gabriel’s eyes burn. That was Nico, beneath the caution. The mechanic who worried before things went wrong.
Gabriel: Everything’s fine. Thanks.
Nico: Good. Stay home.
The familiar, dominant command should’ve annoyed him. Instead, it sent warmth straight to his stomach. A thread of normalcy pulled back into his hands.
Gabriel finished work and drove home through torrential rain. The car ran perfectly, new tires cutting safely through standing water. Everything was predictable. Controlled. And unbearably empty.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Nico Hülkenberg was serving his self-imposed sentence.
The shop was closed to customers, but he was there, not for work, just because he had nowhere else to be. The house, behind the wooden door, smelled like loneliness and memories of Gabriel, the couch where he’d slept, the kitchen where they’d had coffee, the bathroom where Gabriel had left a towel folded in a way Nico would never manage to replicate.
So Nico stayed in the garage, listening to the rain pound against the tin roof like a drumline, smoking cigarette after cigarette and staring at the empty space where Gabriel’s car used to be.
The phone beside him buzzed with Gabriel’s message about the tow truck. Seeing his name on the screen felt like being electrocuted. The reply was automatic, professional, but when he asked about the tires, it wasn’t just the mechanic talking. It was the man who, weeks ago, would’ve invented any excuse to go over and inspect the car — and the driver — personally.
Kevin came back around nine, soaked and pissed, complaining about idiot drivers and flooded roads.
"You look like a stray dog in the rain," Kevin said, peeling off his wet jacket and eyeing Nico leaning against the workbench under the service light. "Go inside. Shower. Eat something."
"I’m fine," Nico muttered.
"Bullshit. You’re waiting for the playboy to magically show up with another blown fuse," Kevin poked, cracking open a beer. "Forget it, Hülk. He asked for time. Time means stay away. Respect that."
"I'm respecting it," Nico snapped, flicking his cigarette into an empty oil can. "I haven’t texted. Haven’t called. Haven’t gone there. I’m just… here."
"Yeah, and 'here' has such depressing energy even the parked cars are getting sad," Kevin rolled his eyes. "Look, you fucked up. Big time. Now you either ride it out or go fix it properly but don’t live in this limbo. It’s killing you, man."
Nico knew Kevin was right. Limbo was the worst place. The space between I want you and I forgive you. And he was stuck there, powerless, waiting for Gabriel to decide his fate.
"I can’t force anything," Nico said, his voice rough. "He has to come to me. If he ever does."
Kevin sighed, taking a long pull from his beer.
"Then sit and wait. But for the love of God, wait somewhere warm. I’m ordering pizza, see if anyone’s brave enough to deliver in this storm. You’re gonna eat. And you’re gonna stop staring at that empty spot on the floor like it’s the grave of your relationship."
As Kevin dialed, a sudden crash echoed outside, followed by the sound of tearing metal and shattering glass. They exchanged a look.
"What the hell was that?" Kevin said, running toward the garage door.
Nico followed. The rain was coming down harder, a dense, roaring curtain. Outside, on the poorly lit industrial street in front of the shop, a car had skidded off the road and slammed head on into a leaning light pole. The pole now rested on the hood of the compact sedan, its front end crushed. The last standing streetlight flickered erratically, casting the scene in a nightmare rhythm.
Professional instinct kicked in first. Nico and Kevin ran toward the car without grabbing jackets. The driver — a young guy, maybe in his early twenties — was conscious but dazed, struggling with the jammed door.
"Stay calm! Don’t move!" Nico shouted over the storm. He assessed quickly. The pole wasn’t live; the wires were severed. The biggest risk was fuel. No gasoline smell. Modern car, safer tank. "Kevin, call an ambulance and the fire department! Now!"
Kevin already had his phone out. Nico crouched by the driver’s door. The window was shattered. He saw the pale, bloodied face inside.
"Help me…" the guy stammered.
"You’re ok, kid. We’ll get you out. Where does it hurt?"
"My foot… it’s stuck. And my leg hurts."
Nico nodded.
"Firefighters are coming. Ambulance too. Just stay calm."
He stayed there, talking, keeping the kid conscious, ignoring the rain soaking him to the bone. His emergency trained mind was sharp, but underneath, a thought pushed through. This is how Gabriel was. Alone. In the rain. Scared. And he called me.
The ambulance and firefighters arrived quickly. Nico and Kevin stepped back. Within minutes, the driver was freed and loaded into the ambulance. It didn’t seem life threatening, but he’d need the hospital.
As firefighters secured the area, a paramedic approached Nico.
"You the one who helped first? You’re soaked, man. Get inside before you catch pneumonia or we’ll be taking you too."
Nico nodded. He was shaking, not just from the cold. The adrenaline was fading, leaving a hollow chill. The urgency, the fear on the kid’s face… it all blended with the memory of the night Gabriel had called him.
Later, back inside, Kevin tossed him a towel.
"Go. Shower. Pizza’s almost here."
Nico obeyed. Under the scalding water, he tried to wash away the helplessness. He fixed cars. He saved people from mechanical disasters. But he couldn’t fix the mess he’d made with the boy who now meant everything to him.
He came out in dry clothes, feeling only slightly more human. The pizza had arrived. Kevin was already eating, watching a muted football game on the tiny TV.
Nico took a slice, sat on the couch, but couldn’t eat. His phone felt like it weighed a ton in his pocket.
Across the city, Gabriel couldn’t focus on anything. The storm raged outside, and every thunderclap sent his thoughts back to the shop. Nico alone. Or worse, on the road, helping someone.
Finally, around eleven, he couldn’t take it anymore. Worry beat pride, hurt, and fear. He picked up his phone and sent a simple message. A thin thread thrown into the storm.
Gabriel: Everything okay over there? This storm’s bad.
He waited. One minute. Two. Five. Nothing. Anxiety tightened in his throat. Just as he was about to call — something he’d sworn he wouldn’t do — the reply came.
Nico: Yeah. There was an accident right in front of the shop. Car hit a pole. Driver’s at the hospital, but he’s alive.
Gabriel sat on the bed, heart racing. An accident. At the shop. Nico had been there.
Gabriel: Are you okay? Did you get hurt?
Nico: I’m fine. Just soaked. Kevin’s here.
Relief hit so hard it made Gabriel weak. He exhaled slowly, fingers trembling.
Gabriel: I’m glad you’re okay.
There was a long pause. The typing indicator appeared, vanished, appeared again.
Nico: When it happened, I only thought about you. That night. How you must have felt.
The words tore through every defense Gabriel had left. They asked for nothing. They didn’t justify anything. They just confessed. Pure vulnerability.
Gabriel stared out the window at rain streaking down the glass, warping city lights. He thought about the café. Nico’s pain. The confession of cowardice. He thought about the Nico who’d helped a stranger in the rain tonight. The Nico who’d fixed his fuse and given him dry clothes. The Nico who’d lied.
And the Nico who, even now, in the middle of chaos, thought of him.
The response didn’t come as words. It came as impulse. A decision made in the heat of memory and rain. Gabriel stood up. Put on a jacket. Grabbed his keys. He didn’t think of Oliver. Or logic. Just that months ago, he’d been broken down on the road—and Nico had come for him. Now Nico was broken in a different way, and Gabriel couldn’t sleep knowing he was dry and safe while the man he love — yes, still loved, no matter how complicated— was there, thinking of him.
The drive to the industrial zone was a watery nightmare. Visibility was awful, streets flooded. Gabriel drove carefully, heart pounding with fear and anticipation. What was he going to do? Say? He didn’t know. He just knew he had to go.
When the rusted gate of Hülkenberg Auto appeared in his headlights, Gabriel almost turned back. Nico’s Harley was there, covered under the awning. The house light behind the dirty glass was on.
He parked. Cut the engine. Rain drummed on the roof. For a long minute, he just sat there, staring at the yellow glow, gathering courage.
Then the shop door opened, not the house door, but the big sliding garage door. Nico’s silhouette filled the opening, backlit by dim light. No jacket. Just a shirt and jeans. He crossed his arms against the cold and looked straight at Gabriel’s car.
It felt like he was saying come. Come home.
Gabriel took a breath, opened the car door, and ran through the rain toward that rectangle of light, and that man who had become both his safe harbor and his storm.
Nico didn’t move as Gabriel splashed across the yard. He just watched him approach, getting soaked again, until Gabriel stopped a few steps away, under the awning, breathless, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes wide and unsure.
"You’re crazy," Nico said, voice rough. Not a question. "Coming out in a storm like this."
"You came to get me in a storm like this," Gabriel shot back, voice shaking, not entirely from the cold.
They stared at each other, rain forming a loud curtain around them, cutting them off from the world. The tension was thick, desire and pain piled high.
"I don’t know what I’m doing here," Gabriel admitted softly.
"I do," Nico said. And slowly, like moving against a strong current, he held out his hand. Not to touch. Just offering it. Palm up. A silent question hanging in the damp air.
Gabriel looked at that hand. The hand that fixed engines and held his skin. The hand that held a daughter’s hand he didn’t know. The hand now trembling slightly, cold or emotion.
Without thinking, Gabriel placed his hand in it. The touch was electric. A closed circuit. Nico wrapped his fingers around Gabriel’s, firm and steady, and gently pulled him inside, into warmth, into the familiar smell of oil and metal, into yellow light that wrapped around them like an embrace.
The door slid shut, muffling the storm. They stood in the quiet shop, hands linked, soaked, staring at each other like it was the first time.
"I can’t forgive you yet," Gabriel whispered. "It still hurts."
Nico nodded, dark blue eyes locked on his.
"I know. And I don’t deserve forgiveness yet. But I’ll wait. I’ll show you every day that I’m the man you knew, and a father too. Both at once. You can have both, if you want. Or neither. The choice is yours."
They were the right words. The only words that could start fixing something. Not empty promises, but an offer of transparency. Of effort. Of patience.
Tears came again for Gabriel, but this time they weren’t just pain. They were relief. Exhaustion. A stubborn love refusing to die.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he stepped forward and rested his forehead against Nico’s wet shoulder. A gesture of surrender. Of tiredness. Of coming home, maybe.
Nico let out a deep, shaky breath and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. It was a tight, grounding hug that said everything words couldn’t. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
And Gabriel held on. Hard. Buried his face in Nico’s neck, breathing in soap, cigarette smoke, and cried quietly while the storm raged outside, powerless beyond the gate.
The time he’d asked for wasn’t over. Maybe it never truly would be. But there, in the silent shop, with Nico’s hands steady on his back and rain pounding the roof like a witness, Gabriel understood something:
Fixing something broken doesn’t mean making it new again. It means finding a new way to work, with the cracks still visible, but strong.
And he was willing to try, because in the end, Nico Hülkenberg had never been a safe harbor. He had always been the storm. And God, Gabriel was finally learning how to dance in the rain.