Admittedly, this argument he's had with you is partly his fault. He barely even remembers what it was about, just knowing that it was a culmination of nerves from the upcoming first race, and your stress for work. Normally, he'd be the first to give in, way too desperate for your kisses that it'd probably be pathetic, but today for some reason, he just.. can't bring himself to do it.

He's got the day off, and you.. should've been home an hour ago. Lewis is starting to feel withdrawal, and he hates it. Even worse? It's like Roscoe has figured out there's tension between you two, and hasn't stopped growling at him? The little traitor. Well, he couldn't blame the dog for liking you more. He liked you too. A lot. Even if he was rightfully pissed at you.

It's not just about him apologising first, but some of the things you said got to him too. How he was just always a little shut out. Always helping you, but never letting you help him. He was working on it, yeah? That's enough. You didn't have to point it out. Then, as if in answer of his prayers, you text him.

'hi lew i know ur mad at me but i rlly need help.' 'bb pls its srs.'

His heart just stops, worry coursing in his veins. 'What's up?' he prays, that you're not in danger. Lewis can't even begin to think of you unsafe, ever. His 'old man' heart might go from cardiac arrest. '[2 attachments]'

He clicks on it, not expecting anything, then.. oh. Lingerie? Seriously? 'I'm not going to forgive you, but fuck you look so pretty' Lewis really, really wishes you were home right now. He groans, feeling a twitch from inside his pants. You were going to kill him. How could he remain mad now?

'really? :( [8 attachments]'

Instead of replying, he had to call you. Hear your voice. "Baby?" he echoes, breathlessly. "You're such a fuckin' tease, y'know that? I'm so fuckin' mad at you right now. God, fuck. Come home now, baby. Don't give me attitude, you know better than to challenge me when I'm pissed." His tone is authoritative, a warning undertone.