#im blaming it on naila bc she keeps talking about unrequited blewis on bonos side n now the brainrot is sinking it but with lewis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milflewis · 2 years

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omg a little blewis moment pls I love reading your writing

ok so i saw this gifset of blewis today and my brain went !!! while i was supposed to be doing assignments so obv i wrote instead. hope you like it !! sorry it’s so late lol

“Sorry,” Lewis says, pulling out his airpod, leaning in. He lets himself bounce a little on the tire he’s sitting on, pushing his toes further into the ground, stomach going all fizzy and quiet. Bono blinks out from behind his glasses, unimpressed. There’s a slight smudge in the corner of the left lens that you can see when Bono turns his head to the right and stands under the glare of the bright garage lights.

Lewis balances himself on Bono’s shoulder. His white merc shirt stiff and warm under his hand. His eyes catch off of the hollow of Bono’s throat, poking through Bono’s two open buttons. There’s a sheen of sweat clinging there.

“So i was thinking about the rear wing of the car,” Bono says, hands gesturing. An eyelash sticking lightly to the soft skin under Bono’s left eye

Bono settles more into one leg, hips slouching out and Lewis pays attention to the way his mouth moves so he doesn’t look down. Apparently, he’s supposed to stop being as obvious about what he’s thinking when he looks at Bono in public but, like, Seb can eat shit. He’s not being that obvious, and even if he was, which he’s not, Seb would be the last person allowed to say anything about hiding what they’re feeling.

Still. Toto is watching. And Susie has been worried about his cholesterol so.

Lewis sits back, wrapping one hand around his other arm, careful not to drop his airpod. He cannot lose another while distracted by Bono. Angela will never let him forget it.

He digs his fingers into his elbow, phone in his other hand. They itch to drag Bono in closer, settling him between Lewis’s legs as he shuffles back on the tire, hands on his hips. Palming his ass in those pants.

Bono keeps talking about the rear wing or maybe he’s on about the brakes now. His mouth is still moving. Lewis still doesn’t look down. Bono is fiddling with the cord of his headset. Maybe he needs something in his hands to avoid reaching out too. Even though it’s been years and nothing will ever come from it, Lewis hopes he does anyway.

“Lewis,” Bono says like it’s not the first time he’s said it. Shit. Lewis hums, “Yeah?”

The eyelash is still there.

“You’re not listening to me.”

Lewis grins, shrugging, leaning back onto the tire, bouncing again.

Bono’s eyes flicker down to Lewis’s spread thighs and back up again. Score, Lewis thinks.

Bono might not want lewis. not the way Lewis wants him to but he does want him, just a little, and sometimes that’s even enough.

“You’re distracting,” Lewis says. “Not my fault.”

“I’m literally just talking about the car,” Bono says, eyebrows raising. “About the wings.”

Lewis lets his voice go a little lower, breathy and curling around his words. Looking up through his lashes, he says, “I know,” and watches Bono’s finger tighten around the headphone cord so he doesn’t shove Lewis off his tire. Lewis laughs. A light blush spreads across Bono’s face, colouring the bridge of his nose.

“You’re insufferable,” Bono says, swallowing.

Lewis grins. “But I’m cute though.”

Bono doesn’t say anything as one of the mechanics come up to him, showing him a tablet with something for him to sign off on. Lewis pokes his thigh with a toe.

“Hey. I’m cute though, right? Bono. Bono. Hey.”

Bono ignores him.

The mechanic looks between the two of them, going still. He’s new, Lewis realises as he doesn’t recognise him. Still, he should know his name. He’ll ask Bono later.

Dan leans around the new guy, grinning, elbow on his shoulder. “I think you’re cute, Lewis.”

Lewis smiles at him, winking. “It’s nice to be appreciate around here.”

Bono hands the guy back his tablet. “I wouldn’t know.”

Lewis brushes off the sting. Joke. It’s a joke, Lewis. The voice sounds like Jenson.

Lewis scoffs, “I appreciate you!”

Bono hums, “Do you? Then why don’t you listen to me?”

“I told you. You’re distracting.” Lewis bites his cheeks, tasting sharp copper as it bleeds.

He tilts his head. “Bono.”

Bono is looking at him. “What?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

Bono frowns at him, “You’re going on track in ten minutes.”

Lewis waves a hand, manages not to drop his phone. “No, no. Not that. Could you take off your headphones for a moment.”

Bono squints at him, crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening, “why.” He drags the word out long enough that it doesn’t even sound like a question.

Lewis smiles. “I want to see your hair do the thing.”

Bono shoves him off the tire this time.

“C’mon,” Lewis says, giggling, sprawled out on the floor, propping himself up on his elbows. He feels a little breathless, going all light and weightless with it all. “I want to see it.”

Bono turns back to the screens behind him. “My hair doesn’t ‘do a thing’.”

The mechanics laughing around them. A tv on the wall at the other end of the garage shows a pink and blue car out on track. It swerves a little, skidding over a wet patch, before rightening itself. Lewis hopes that it’s Fernando driving and not Esteban.

“Yeah, man, it does! Goes all, like, smushed in the middle cause of where they sit and it’s very funny.”

Bono’s voice goes all flat at the ends like it does when he’s trying not to laugh. “Well, then, guess you’ll see it after the race, won’t you?”

Lewis groans. “That’s ages away, though. Please. It’s so cute.”

Bono stays watching the screens. The tv is now showing Sebastian, his black helmet stark against the green Aston Martin. It makes Lewis grin like he did when Seb first sent him the design pics weeks ago.

Lewis sighs, dramatic and long and heavy, feeling his lungs shake with it. Let’s Dan pull him up. Bumps shoulders with Bono who cuts a glance at him, smiling slightly. Lewis grins at him. “What were you saying again?”

Bono looks at him for a second.

“I’m not too distracting anymore?” he asks.

Lewis shrugs, making sure he sounds careful and relaxed. “I can manage.”

He must succeed because Bono’s smile widens and he goes back to what he was saying earlier, cord in hand.

There’s a fine line here. One that Bono drew in the sand years ago when he left Lewis to wake up in a cold bed and messy sheets, smiling at him when he sat down opposite him twenty seven minutes later in the Mercedes ordered private plane. and said hey Lewis. Good party? like he always did and Lewis grinned, stomach tight. The ends of Bono’s come still flaking off of Lewis’s stomach. Not having had time to shower. (Part of him had hoped that he’d show up and Bono would look at him with those eyes again and invite him over when they landed in England and Lewis would know, just know, what that meant and neither of them would need to say anything else.)

(Bono didn’t invite him over, clapping him on the shoulder in goodbye the minute they got their bags, and Lewis didn’t see him again until two days before the next race)

(Neither of them needed to say anything else.)

There’s a fine line here. One where Bono doesn’t say anything about Lewis being in love with him and puts up with his teasing and Lewis doesn’t say anything about Bono not loving him back and makes himself still and listen to Bono when it matters, never mentioning that he knows how Bono tastes when he’s laughing.

Lewis bumps his shoulder into Bono’s again and doesn’t look down and doesn’t look at Bono’s mouth. Just listens to him worry about the brakes of a car that sometimes Lewis can’t even bring himself to not hate.

#i started writing fluff and then. yeah. idk what happened #im blaming it on naila bc she keeps talking about unrequited blewis on bonos side n now the brainrot is sinking it but with lewis #stuff i wrote #hopefully rewriting this will get me back into it #blewis #f1 rpf fic #fic.asks #anon tag #niamh.asks

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