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Yuki has been learning about a lot of things from Pierre: how to bark and swear in French, how to get the most out of the loot chests in Call of Duty, and most recently, how to steal the AlphaTauri hoodies without anyone knowing.
Today, Yuki receives a call to do a photoshoot for AlphaTauri. He never thought of himself as a model, but when Red Bull wants you to do something, then you better do it. Besides, the clothes aren’t that bad-looking anyway, other than the fact that they're like Uniqlo’s.
Pierre is evidently marginally better than him at this. He gives the camera his perfect smile and a smoldering stare, and the photographers eat those up. Meanwhile, Yuki can only hope that he doesn't look awkward wearing this cotton short-sleeve shirt. Pierre giggles in that cracking laugh of his when it's time for Yuki's turn in front of the camera. Yuki only glares at him, but that just succeeds in making Pierre laugh harder.
"I think you are a better model than a racer," jokes Pierre when they're back in the changing room.
"Maybe that could be my job if I'm not racing," Yuki muses. He's glad this particular part of his job is over. He's fixing his shirt into his pants when he sees Pierre looking around in front of a rack hung with AlphaTauri clothes, and to Yuki’s surprise, snatches the jackets and puts them into his bag.
Pierre turns to Yuki and sheepishly grins. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says.
“Um, okay,” Yuki says, confused, especially when he sees that the clothes are bigger than Pierre’s size, “but why?”
Instead of answering, Pierre only shrugs. “Why not?” he says. “They throw away the clothes we wear, you know.”
“Really? That seems like such a waste.”
“That’s why I take them,” Pierre says. He grabs a piece and throws it to Yuki. “Here, put it in your backpack.”
“Do they know we’re taking these for ourselves?” asks Yuki, referring to the AlphaTauri clothing line people.
“They don’t need to know,” Pierre says with a wink, and Yuki laughs. He’s starting to like Pierre the more they hang out.
It goes like that for the next photoshoots. The key is to take off the one you’re wearing in front of the stylists and dash to the changing room to snatch the ones that didn’t get photographed. They haven’t gotten caught yet this way. Yuki comes home with three or four clothes on a good day, and Pierre takes the rest of the clothes that are large-sized.
Yuki enjoys the thrill that comes with their small thievery. God knows he’s had enough of the stressful kind that comes with his job during the weekends.
He wears the ones that don’t scream AlphaTauri in the paddock proudly. He kind of likes the style; it’s casual and gives enough warmth when they’re in the colder circuits. Interestingly, Pierre doesn’t wear them as much as him, keeping to the official branded ones their managers tell them to wear. He dodges Yuki’s pestering when he asks him about it, only relenting one day after Yuki murders him in Valorant.
“Alright,” Pierre says. “I don’t steal them for myself.”
“For who, then?”
“Well,” Pierre says, and now he’s blushing. “I take them for my — uh, my, um, partner.”
“Oooooohhh,” Yuki says, because that makes sense, but also, “so, you’re that kind of boyfriend.”
“What kind?”
“You know, the cheap kind,” Yuki directly says, and only laughs when Pierre pulls on his hair. “So, who are you stealing for?”
“I’m not telling you unless you beat me first,” Pierre says, and he starts a new game.
Sadly, Yuki loses, but that just makes him curious to discover who Pierre’s partner is. Judging from the clothes that Pierre steals, he figures that they’re a) male, b) taller than Pierre, and c) likes the clothes made from rayon and denim. He decides to ask Pierre about the last one, being the most specific clue.
“Oh,” Pierre says. “They repel cat fur, that’s why.”
“So, he has cats?”
“And a dog, and two horses,” Pierre cites, a fond look on his face.
“That’s… a lot.”
“It’s like a zoo whenever I visit,” Pierre sighs dreamily. “But after a while, you get used to it.”
Yuki puts the mystery partner on hold until one day, he gets a call from his PR manager. They are making another video, and this time, everyone’s invited: Red Bull, AlphaTauri, and the DTM drivers. He welcomes the idea happily — it’s been a while since he’s seen Liam ever since he moved to Italy. His ex-roommate bumps his hip in greeting as the cameras are preparing to roll.
“You’ve got something for me, Tsunoda?” Liam asks, running his hand through his blonde hair. There’s something that flutters inside Yuki whenever he does that.
“Huh?” Yuki asks, confused.
“Alex has been getting a lot of free AlphaTauri hoodies from some mystery person,” says Liam. “When I ask who it's from, he won’t answer.”
Yuki’s head immediately jerks up to look at Alex, and there he is, standing in the corner, wearing a grey knitwear hoodie. Yuki remembers that particular clothing was stolen by Pierre just a week ago. And now, Alex is talking in all hushed whispers and smiles to Pierre, who’s looking at Alex like he’s the sun.
Ah. Yuki should’ve known. They have always been extremely close whenever Alex is in the AlphaTauri motorhome. Wanting to confirm his speculations, Yuki moves stealthily across the room to eavesdrop, hiding behind a plant at a safe distance.
“Do you like this one?” Pierre murmurs.
“Yeah,” Alex says. “I always like whatever you bring, Pierre.”
“It looks good on you.”
Alex chuckles. “You’re a flirt. And stop stealing them, it makes me feel guilty.”
“But they’re expensive!”
“You are literally a Formula One driver, and you just bought a Bitcoin!”
Pierre pouts, crossing his arms. “They should be giving it to us anyway, we’re modeling for them. But if you don’t like it, fine, I’ll stop.”
“Oh,” Alex’s voice drops. “But… I do.” He clears his throat. “I sleep better in them.”
Yuki sticks out a bit from the plant and sees Pierre’s hand on top of Alex’s. The smiles on their faces are blinding, and their eyes are crinkling as they look at each other. Without making any noise, he comes back to Liam.
“Mate, where were you?” Liam asks.
Yuki thinks about Pierre and Alex, the stack of clothes in his apartment, and the next scheduled photoshoot. “Hey, Liam. What size do you wear?”