Chapter Text
How odd.
Ayrton Senna—five-time World Champion—seemed almost… wrapped around the rookie’s finger.
Like a large, loyal dog.
It wasn’t obvious at first. Subtle things. Easy to dismiss.
Before every race, during interviews, even when they weren’t paired together—they always ended up side by side. Talking. Smiling. Too comfortable for rivals.
Rivals, the media called them.
They didn’t look like it.
After races, it was the same pattern. Senna would be seen leaving with Alain Prost, the two disappearing into whichever car Senna had brought that weekend. Last time, it had been a sleek silver Lamborghini Aventador Roadster. Now, it was a polished black Bentley Mulsanne, its surface catching every flash of light like glass.
“Just giving him a ride,” the reporters would say.
A kind gesture. A senior helping a rookie. Almost brotherly.
That’s what it looked like.
But Reine knew better.
He had seen it.
Not through a camera. Not through headlines.
With his own eyes.
It had been after a race. The paddock was quieter then, most people already leaving. Prost was still in his blue race suit, the zipper pulled halfway down, exposing his neck slightly. Senna stood close beside him, dressed casually—striped shirt, jeans, his usual blue Nacional cap and dark aviator glasses.
His arm rested loosely around Prost’s shoulders.
Too natural.
Too familiar.
Anyone else would have called it friendly.
Reine didn’t.
Because he noticed something no one else did.
Senna’s hand.
It wasn’t just resting there. His fingers moved—slowly, almost absentmindedly—slipping under the edge of Prost’s race suit collar.
Fidgeting.
Lingering.
Then brushing lower.
Reine’s eyes narrowed.
And then he saw it.
A mark.
Faint, but unmistakable.
Dark against the skin.
Not a bruise from impact.
Not an injury.
A bite.
Reine felt his steps slow.
Then stop.
For a second, everything around him seemed to fade—the noise, the lights, the movement.
His mind went completely blank.
And then—
It all made sense.
The rides.
The constant proximity.
The way they looked at each other when they thought no one was paying attention.
Reine exhaled slowly, staring ahead.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Because suddenly—
“Just giving him a ride” didn’t sound so innocent anymore.
It sounded like an excuse.
A very convenient one.
He ran a hand over his face, already regretting everything.
Gosh.
He really hated his job.