Chapter Text
pierre gasly was coming undone. cocooned beside him under the duvet, which they were sharing of course, was his most favorite f2 world champion (someone tell charles leclerc!) surely best friends sleep together in the same bed all the time, right? but heaving his hand was an extra platinum band and pierre had absolutely no idea how it found its way onto his fingers. the sanest person on this planet would think that a very drunk pierre married a very drunk yuki tsunoda and they probably kissed once or twice. but sixteen drinks sober pierre had very different ideas.
maybe he stole it off a stranger? six drink pierre was a menace and a cheap kleptomaniac. after a series of unfortunate events involving drunk pierre stealing things off the drivers around the paddock, yuki always poured, pierre, sixth and the seventh drink successively. seven drink pierre was a lousy gambler. maybe his luck had turned in the casinos last night? couldn’t be, his purse weighed a thousand dollars less and the ring wasn’t the gaudy, grotesque kind they sell in their gift shops. it was the kind of ring pierre would want for his wedding – sparkly tiny diamonds embedded all over the solid platinum band. people get married in las vegas all the time, no big deal. after all, he was the one standing at his now ex-girlfriend’s apartment, yesterday, with a ring in his pocket asking her to marry him completely unaware of his very untalented son of a bitch teammate taking a shower in that same time. pierre thought maybe his shower broke and he was just taking a shower in her apartment or maybe she realized his dick was tiny and left him and married pierre last night.
but where was his girlfriend if he married her last night?
he let out a loud frustrated moan and kicked yuki awake hoping he would remember bits and pieces of the alcohol diluted night. instead, his scruffy face was met with sloppy shoving from yuki; his fingertips lingering over his lips a tad bit longer but pierre didn’t seem to mind it. he glanced at yuki - his hair was rowdy, his bangs criss-crossed all over his eyes because he wouldn’t trust another man to touch his hair. his face was still flushed crimson from the all the vodka yuki had celebrating his championship. something took over the frenchman at that moment and he gently brushed the strands. the velvety duvet no longer covers the younger one fully and pierre’s eyes stumbled upon yuki’s swollen biceps with bluish veins running down his pale arms. he tried to avert his eyes but with every stolen glance, pierre seemed to lose his breath a little. sure, gym partners check each other gym progress all the time, right?
it was a second later pierre seemed to notice yuki’s ring clad finger which made his hands looked even hotter. it was new, a platinum band but solid, minimalistic and elegant. he could understand why yuki chose it, it looked right at home.
identical. their rings were suspiciously identical. and it hit pierre.
he married his best friend. very drunk. after the las vegas grand prix.