Chapter Text
Yuki knows the first time he meets Pierre that he will get him into bed.
There’s no grand fanfare about it, no sudden struck-by-lightning feeling. It's almost an inescapable, mundane fact: the sky is blue, water is wet, Yuki is short and he’s going to fuck Pierre Gasly someday.
He’d been more than a little starstruck the first time he’d met his future teammate at AlphaTauris headquarters. He’d been fresh off the plane from Japan, jet-lagged and overwhelmed with the media circus that surrounded being the newest F1 recruit. He’d been half-asleep, head perched atop his arms on Franz’s desk and he’d completely missed the muffled sound of footsteps or the door opening. It was only when a soft laugh had echoed through the room that he’d jolted up, coming face to face with his teammate.
Pierre Gasly was every bit as gorgeous in person as he looked in press photos, maybe even moreso because press photos didn’t quite capture the warmth of his smile or the way his team shirt was pulled tight over broad shoulders. “Long day?” he’d teased, reaching out to pat Yuki on the back and that was all it took. Yuki was a goner.
He’d told Marino as soon as he’d gotten back to his apartment that night and his friend’s incredulous scoff had followed just as fast, his disbelief palpable even over the blurry pixels of the video call.
“Dude, you’re supposed to be focusing on securing your position on the grid, not hooking up with your teammate.”
“I’m gonna do both.” Yuki countered, a toothbrush muffling his words.” By the end of this season, I’m gonna have a Grand Prix trophy on my shelf and Pierre on his knees by the bed.”
Marino shrieks in disgust, loud exclamations of “ Jesus, dude, you’re so gross. ” and the call had devolved into their usual bickering, the topic put aside for the time being. Yuki had believed it with every fiber of his being though. He’d made it this far based on sheer talent and he had no doubt that he'd be going to carry that same momentum forward.
Well, the heavens clearly wanted to humble his ass because none of that happens.
To say he’d underestimated the difficulty of being in F1 would be putting it mildly. The season is rough from the get-go as he struggles to adjust to a new routine, new media responsibilities, the physical toll of racing and a car that doesn’t feel right even after hours of track time. He clashes with the engineers and he knows his radio antics are starting to earn him a bad reputation amongst fans. It constantly feels like he’s falling short of expectations and he oscillates between frustration and anxiety. He knows there are many other drivers chomping at the bit for his spot, zeroing on his underperformance like vultures and there’s a good likelihood he may have just blown his one chance.
In the midst of it all, Pierre is like an oasis in the desert, a steadying presence who helps calm down the storm cloud that hovers over his head. They spend more time together when the season begins, either on the track or in the headquarters or being cajoled by AlphaTauri’s social media team into filming new content. When everything else seems to be a challenge, his relationship with Pierre is remarkably easy. They develop a comfortable rapport on and off-camera, consisting mostly of banter, bickering, and Pierre finding new ways to prod at Yuki until he swipes back. He’s there at the end of every terrible race when Yuki’s confidence is at rock bottom and he’s been thoroughly dressed down by management to offer a comforting presence and advice. Yuki knows that if anyone gets him, it's Pierre who dealt with his own share of lows not even two seasons ago. But he’d had his redemption and Yuki hasn’t.
He fights back, refusing to let himself be dragged down and his results improve with the next few races, enough to tack back on some of his lost self-confidence. His demeanor improves and he begins to feel more like himself again as they wrap up the season. The Yuki that emerges at the end of 2021 is one who’s a little more cynical and a lot more mature but overall a better driver.
So he doesn’t get his Grand Prix trophy and he definitely doesn’t get railed by Pierre. Apart from the fact that the stress of the season left very little time for sex at all, he also hadn’t quite factored in his teammate being a seemingly very straight man with a pretty girlfriend by his side when he’d set that goal. He spends some time with them at team dinners, long enough to see that his teammate stares at her like she hung the stars in the sky. And Yuki may be one horny motherfucker but he’s not looking to be a homewrecker. So he smiles and settles for friendship, for Pierre’s gentle ribbing and familiar touches that linger in his mind for longer than he cares to admit.
When Helmut tells him they’re keeping him on for another year, he wants to cry from the relief. Instead, he’d thrown himself headfirst into training, hating every moment of it but determined to prove himself this time around. His relationship with Pierre also gets better as they see more of each other in Italy, bonding over memes, video games, and their eternal hatred for neck day at the gym. Their social media team seems to have zeroed in on this newfound close dynamic because in the lead-up to the new season, they’re rarely apart for more than a few hours, going between photoshoots, interviews, and press appearances. Yuki almost begins to wonder if he’s somehow switched careers from racer to idol without realizing.
It becomes fairly routine after a while till one fateful day. They’re having a zoom interview, discussing their plans for an upcoming race and Yuki is trying to make a joke about staying over at Pierre’s place to the host. It's something he’s been trying to cajole the Frenchman into doing since he moved to Italy, with little success so far.
“So I was thinking it would be easier to go to his house,” he gestures with his chin towards his teammate, “sleep together and then go.”
He knows the second he says it that the phrasing isn’t quite right but he’s not expecting the loud “No, no, no!” from his right or the way Pierre has his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with flustered laughter. And he may not fully understand why he’s elicited this reaction but he likes seeing Pierre like this so he repeats it again.
“When you tell someone you slept together, in English that can mean you had sex with them,” Carolyn explains later when he asks and Yuki snorts into his shirt as he changes out of his team gear. If only, he thinks. That being said, Pierre’s reaction, overblown as it had been, hadn't necessarily been angry. If anything he seems to have been amused, probably writing it off as Yuki getting lost in translation. And that only makes him want to do it more.
It becomes a running joke between them. Fans online call it Yuki sending Pierre into gay panic and it honestly couldn’t be more spot on. Yuki loves how it gives him the excuse to be shameless, make jokes about Pierre being like a “boyfriend-girlfriend” to him, about breaking into his house, or leaving vaguely flirtatious comments under social posts. Hey, if nothing else it drives up engagement.
Pierre’s reactions remain consistent, mainly him shoving Yuki away or loudly saying he’d never let him near his apartment but not much else in his demeanor changes. The casual physical affection is still there when he slings his arm around Yuki’s shoulders during track walks or wrestles him on the couch in the waiting room, cackling as he crushes Yuki under his weight. It's encouraging but also a little confusing. Yuki could have handled Pierre wanting nothing to do with this dynamic but him embracing it is a little bit more confusing.
It's no secret that the world of motorsports is not exactly progressive. He’s reminded of it, even more, when Carolyn takes him aside to gently remind him to be “discreet” during the first two races in Bahrain and Saudi Arabia. Sure, Sebastian pulls up to every race on his gay little bike and the teams slap a rainbow on their livery in June but Yuki has been well-aware since he entered F3 that the old dudes in management have some pretty regressive ideas about masculinity and sexuality and that prejudices exist even amongst the younger drivers. So, surely, it must mean something that Pierre indulges Yuki’s little come-ons, even joins in on them.
“You’re reading too much into it,” Marino tells him bluntly as they meet up for lunch when he’s in town for a race and Yuki brings him up to speed. “ All this proves is his masculinity is not fragile. That doesn’t mean he wants your ass”
“It's a very good ass, I’ve been doing squats.” Yuki protests before chewing morosely on his cream puff. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but he’s just so chill that it makes me hope.”
There’s a beat of silence then Marino is putting his teacup down on the table hard enough that the saucer rattles.
“You like him!” he accuses, loud enough that Yuki has to shush him, looking around to make sure none of the Italian seniors at the nearby tables have heard. His best friend is having none of it as he grabs his wrist, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“Yuki, please don’t tell me you’ve fallen for another straight dude.” Marino looks exasperated but the concern is evident from the way he looks at him. “Was Liam not enough?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Last year.”
“ Long time . And no, I’m not crushing on Pierre. He has a girlfriend. She’s nice and he really likes her and I’m not stupid enough to think that's going anywhere.” Yuki tries to sound more resolute than he actually feels as he picks up his fork again and after a few seconds Marino does the same with his teacup.
“Just take care of yourself, okay,” he says, almost too quiet to be heard and Yuki nods. They change the topic soon after and Yuki tries to tamp down the guilt that he’d lied straight to his friend’s face. Because truthfully whatever attraction he feels for Pierre had evolved from sexual to longing over the course of one season. There’s really no other explanation for the way his heart rate spikes whenever Pierre tugs him close, for the fact that his exercise-hating self will go to the gym willingly because Pierre asked if he wanted to lift some weights together. Fuck he even has a 29 day streak on Duolingo’s beginner French course. A crush. Yuki is too damn old to be simpering after his senpai like some kind of fucking shoujo manga cliche but here they are.
Something changes in February. Pierre is quieter at team meetings, leaves quickly after sessions and even his socials go dead. Yuki tries to ask if everything’s okay and only gets a smile and a tepid reassurance in response as Pierre pats him on the head, his usual banter absent. Yuki’s attempts at tuning into garage gossip also yield no results so he finally caves and corners Pyry during a training session while Pierre is busy on the treadmill. The stoic Finn seems surprised by Yuki’s whispered questions but appears to deem him worthy of an answer.
“It's the breakup, he’s taking it a bit rough.” He gestures towards the Frenchman who’s currently staring into space on an elliptical. “I’m going to increase his training sessions so he has something else to focus on. He needs to get his head back in the game before next weekend.” He suddenly eyes Yuki. “Want to join? We’re doing conditioning today.”
Yuki makes an excuse and scampers away to the dumbbells before Pyry gets any ideas about roping him into cardio, his heart beating a mile a minute. He has a brief moment of elation because Pierre is single! but that fades away into guilt quick enough. He’s not going to revel in something that Pierre is clearly hurting over. He tries to be there for him instead in his own way, which mostly entails shoving different snacks at him or inviting him to game sessions at his place. His apartment has never been cleaner.
Pierre seems to perk up as they touch down in Australia for the next race, laughing and joking around with the engineers as they do their run-throughs. Still, Yuki is not expecting him to knock on his door at 9 p.m, barging past him as soon as the door opens. His protests cut off once he takes sight of his teammate in his tight jeans and a silk shirt that's unbuttoned to show off far too much chest. Pierre seems oblivious to his gawking as he heads for the closet, calling over his shoulder. “Get dressed, we’re going clubbing.”
What follows is several minutes of bickering, Pierre rifling through Yuki’s suitcase and insulting every article of clothing he owns, and them fighting over who gets to drive the rental to the club. Yuki lets Pierre win and gets his revenge by singing along loudly to the radio until Pierre threatens to pull over and dump him by the side of the road.
The club is one of those exclusive places that looks like it checks your tax bracket at the door and Yuki sticks close to Pierre as he exchanges words with the bouncers and has them ushered past the velvet rope. Inside Yuki is immediately reminded of why he doesn’t particularly enjoy clubbing. It's crowded, the music is loud and he’s at armpit height with most people which makes maneuvering through the crowd particularly unpleasant. He manages to wade his way to the bar where he promptly gets carded to add to the indignity of the whole experience. By the time he’s procured two shots, Pierre has vanished into the crowd and Yuki is left to down both, letting the alcohol make the whole experience marginally more pleasant.
He ends up in the VIP area after one of the models there takes mercy on him and beckons him over. Her name is Luna, she’s a foot taller than him, has an undecipherably thick Aussie accent, and is a good kisser so overall great company to spend the rest of the night with. They’re sprawled on one of the couches when Yuki spots Pierre making his way over to them, a pretty blonde by his side. Clearly, he’s moved past the mopey post-breakup phase to the rebound one.
Pierre takes a seat across from him, his lady friend perching on his lap and Yuki takes another swig of his drink to fight back the jealousy clawing at his chest. Pierre catches his eye and raises a hand, holding out what looks like a cigarette except it's far too pungent.
“Is that weed?”
Pierre nods and the lazy tilt to his smile suddenly makes a lot more sense. The blonde model takes the joint from him, taking a hit before passing it over to Yuki who has no idea how to proceed. Weed isn’t banned in Formula 1 but it is still illegal in Japan so he has no experience smoking up. There had been that one time he ate some of Liam’s edibles but that doesn’t count, He goes for a large drag, immediately coughing it back as the smoke hits his throat, sharp and acrid.
Distantly he hears laughter and feels Luna patting him on the back. He hears Pierre tell the girls he’s “still a baby” and kicks out at him, annoyed but probably also proving his point. There’s more conversation above his head and then Luna says something about a shotgun in her thick drawl. He hears a murmur in assent and then Pierre is tapping at his forehead until Yuki looks up.
“Follow my lead.” And then he’s taking a long drag from the joint before beckoning Yuki forward. The metal of his Rolex is cold against Yuki’s skin as he grips his jaw, thumb pressing against his lower lip to force his mouth open before he leans in, close enough that Yuki could count every single one of his lashes. Then Pierre exhales, blowing a stream of smoke straight into his mouth. Unprepared, Yuki ends up coughing again and the vapor dissipates as fast as it appeared. Pierre seems amused. “You’re supposed to hold it, Yukino.” he drawls, shaking his head.
“Try one more time.” the blonde suggests and Yuki suddenly loves her and her brilliant mind. Pierre acquiesces and Yuki steels himself determined to not fuck up this time. Pierre is leaning forward again except this time he doesn’t stop just short of touching his lips. Yuki barely has the presence of mind to open his mouth to inhale as Pierre’s lips press against his own, stubble scraping against his jaw as he exhales into the tight seal. It's over too soon and as Yuki slowly releases the smoke, he doesn’t know if this sudden lightheaded feeling is from the weed or what just happened.
Pierre appears completely nonplussed as he passes the rest of the joint to Luna before standing and taking his lady friend by the hand. “ Ciao , see you for planning tomorrow.”And then he’s gone, fading into the sea of bodies and lights like he hasn’t just rocked Yuki’s world off its axis.
He doesn’t remember much of the rest of the night. He buys Luna another drink, making a polite excuse when she invites him back to her place, and leaves in an Uber. When he jerks off in the shower that night, it's the thought of Pierre’s hand on his neck that pulls him over the edge.
He wants to scream. It feels like he’s overheating as he rolls around on the hotel sheets, face flaming as he replays the moment over and over. His fingers itch to reach for his phone, to call Marino so he has someone to talk to. But then Marino would know that Yuki had lied, would probably point out that Pierre had left to fuck a girl right after and the whole thing was probably just for show. And he’d be right but Yuki doesn’t want to hear it right now.
If he’d expected Pierre to be any different, he’s sorely disappointed. He shows up at the garage the next day, Ray-Bans on and coffee in one hand, and barely gives Yuki a second glance during the morning meetings. The only reference to the events of the night before is an engineer nudging Pierre, asking him if he had a productive night, and Pierre smirking in response. Yuki wants to grab him by the collar, shake him and demand he explain how he can possibly ignore the fact that he put his mouth on Yuki’s mouth or maybe ask him to do it again.
Instead, he glowers in the corner until Noel gets tired of his antics and drags him for a run which really does nothing to improve his mood. It's a blessing to be back inside the air-conditioned factory and he sings along to One OK Rock on his headphones as he strips out of his sweaty workout clothes, mind temporarily at ease.
The door to the change room bangs open, making him jump. To his horror it's Pierre’s face he sees in the mirror opposite him as the Frenchman walks in, completely unperturbed by the fact that Yuki’s in just his boxers. He starts rifling through his bag as Yuki sputters before kicking the door shut. “You could fucking knock!”
“You change in front of cameras all the time, we all know you’re an exhibitionist.” Pierre counters easily, retrieving his headphones. Yuki chooses not to dignify that with a response as he waits for Pierre to step out so he can finish changing. Except Pierre pauses behind him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Yuki freezes at the touch, barely registering being moved till he faces the mirror. Pierre meets his gaze in the reflection, hands moving from his shoulders to rest lightly on his biceps. “You look good. The gym routine is paying off, I don’t think you had this muscle last season.”
Yuki’s mouth is dry and it takes some effort to unglue his tongue to respond. “Thank you. I’ve been working hard.”
From this angle, Pierre towers over him, the height difference enough that he can easily hook his chin atop his head. He’s pressed close enough that Yuki can smell his cologne and feel the hard bulk of his frame against his back. His hands find their way to Yuki’s sides, ghosting over his ribs down to his narrow waist and the faint muscle definition on his stomach. And then he fucking tickles him.
In retrospect maybe it's a good thing because Yuki was this close to popping a boner while in his tighty-whities. Instead, he shrieks, twisting out of Pierre's hold and his teammate had ducked out of the room before Yuki could retaliate, the door slamming shut behind him.
It takes Yuki longer than he cares to admit to calm down and dress, joining the rest of the engineers in the debriefing room. Pierre as usual looks completely nonplussed like he wasn’t just feeling Yuki up not even 20 minutes ago. He has to put his head down against the cool wood of the meeting table, wishing fervently that the blush crawling up his neck fades before anyone notices. Luckily, Franz chooses that moment to enter the room and Yuki is able to focus on technical notes and try to follow along with rapid-fire English that devolves into the occasional Italian rant. They wrap up the meeting by discussing the strategy for Miami and the media team gives them a short rundown of activities they’ll be filming for. Yuki tunes most of it out until he hears his own name.
“Yuki’s birthday is on Qualifying day so there may be some special content filming for that but we’ll try to make sure you get free to celebrate after the race.” the media coordinator says and Yuki nods in thanks, honestly having forgotten that it was even coming up. Pierre tilts his head, turning to face him. “It's your birthday soon?”
His accent slurs the syllables on “birthday” and it sounds soft. Warm. Yuki wants to kiss him.
“May 11th.” he tells him. “I’m a Taurus. Alphataurus you could say.”
Pierre snorts at the joke. “And how old is the baby turning?”
If Yuki focuses too much on Pierre calling him baby, he might implode right over this mahogany desk. He points to the number on his shirt lapel in lieu of a response. Pierre grins and reaches over, large hand cupping the back of Yuki’s neck before his thumb digs into the base where his neck meets his collarbone, massaging. It's not good, in fact, it kind of hurts but it doesn’t stop Yuki from melting into the touch.
“Number 22 is turning 22.” Pierre coos. “Well we certainly have to celebrate that, don’t we.”
And as Yuki stares into ocean-blue eyes he feels his rationality begin to crumble as anticipation, hope, and maybe a little bit of dread heat him. Don’t do this he hears his inner voice beg, sounding suspiciously like Marino, but he bats it away as he smiles back at Pierre. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Miami can’t come fast enough.