Work Text:
He feels sick.
He's known about this for almost a year now. Hell, the entire paddock has known about it, but it doesn't do anything to soothe the burn rising inside Pierre's chest. The nausea bubbles up again and reminds Pierre that he should not have drank that much tonight. But how could he not?
How could he not try and wash all of the nasty feelings swirling inside of him with alcohol when he sees them? How could he not want to disappear and just make everything stop? And he has tried. He has tried so fucking hard but they're everywhere.
They're such an unlikely couple, everybody in the paddock seemed to say. Yet, everybody adored them. How could they not? It was Charles that Esteban was in love with now. Everybody loves Charles. And ever since he was released from the shackles of Alpine, everybody has been loving Esteban too.
They indeed were an unlikely match. Except for the odd interactions during their early karting days around France, Esteban and Charles had never quite interacted. Pierre had though. Pierre had known both of them practically his whole lives. Charles has been one of his best friends for over 20 years, has stayed by his side through the whirlwind adventure that is the world of Formula 1. And Esteban...
Esteban was supposed to be...special. He was not quite a friend to Pierre, no. But not a lover either. They butted heads, they fought, their animosity bled through the cracks in their relationship that had been forming for years and years and years. Everybody saw it and everybody had accepted it like it was the absolute truth—Pierre and Esteban will always hate each other.
But Pierre did not hate Esteban, no. it was never all hate.
Away from the eyes of everybody else, hidden in lost pockets of time, they had their own moments. Moments where Esteban's peaceful, sleeping face was what Pierre would look at for an hour after waking up because he was unable to tear his eyes away. Moments where Esteban would slip in a wrapped warm sandwich into Pierre's hands on one of those cold Enstone days because You forgot to have breakfast today, cheri. Again. And Pierre would accept the food with a tiny smile, his fingers brushes against the other man's hand for just a second too long before they had to hop into the simulators. Moments that nobody but them knew about.
Charles never knew, is the sentence Pierre has kept repeating to himself since the day he found out. Charles never knew because Pierre never told him. Pierre never told him because Pierre wanted to never accept what they had for what it was. He waited because he thought they would have time. But he was wrong.
It unraveled once again before either of them ever had the chance to weave what they had into something beautiful. It all fell apart right in front of Pierre's eyes.
In a weird way, Pierre should credit himself for having brought Charles and Esteban to each other. And they're happy, which might be the worst part about all of this.
He has known them both all their lives and never once has he seen either of them this happy in a relationship.
"I know it must be weird for you, calamar," Pierre remembers Charles saying to him one night. He had shown up to Pierre's apartment having told him that there was something important he needed to tell him. Never in a million years would Pierre have guessed that it was this. "But I really do like him."
Pierre had just nodded, his throat having gone dry the second Charles revealed to him that he was now dating Esteban.
"I know you've both had a very tense relationship in the past," Charles went on, "but I really do hope you two can make a few amends now."
"Do you love him?" Pierre had asked him bluntly. He needed to know. Charles had hesitated and somehow that was enough for Pierre to know.
"It's too early to say anything now but," Charles had a bashful smile on his face, one that Pierre could tell he was trying his best to hide. "He's been really good to me, Pear. And I'm happy, really." Charles allows himself to fully smile this time, tilting his head up to look at Pierre. "He is kind and attentive and funny and caring and I know you have your opinions about him but please just give him a chance. Please."
Childishly, Pierre wanted to scream He was mine first! but he couldn't. Because Esteban never was his, Pierre had never called him so.
And maybe that's why he left. He deserved better.
Sometimes, on lonely drunken nights, Pierre wonders if they talk about him. He thinks about what they might be saying about him.
He did ask Esteban once, couple months ago at a party. He had seen him walk in with Charles. He had seen him cup Charles' face to pull him in for a kiss before walking off to fetch drinks for both of them. And he had also seen how Charles had immediately blushed and giggled as the others around teased him for it.
"What is it exactly that you're doing with Charles?" Pierre spat out the second Esteban slid up to the bar. But the other man ignored him and leaned over the bar to order his and Charles' drinks first before turning to face Pierre.
"What do you think I'm doing, Pierre? I'm dating him."
It never felt right, the thought of them together. Pierre clutched his glass a little tighter. "If this is your way of extracting some terrible, twisted kind of revenge then just stop it. Charles doesn't deserve to be caught in this mess."
Esteban tilted his head slightly, giving the man in front of him an incredulous look. "Mon dieu, you think everything is about you, don't you? Such a big ego you have."
Pierre was practically shaking with fury. "Do not hurt Charles because you want to hurt me. He doesn't deserve it."
"I am not going to hurt Charles, alright? I really do like him. He's a very nice guy and I've known him since we were kids. Just because I hadn't made a move before doesn't mean I was never planning on making one."
"So you had been planning this for, what, years then?" Pierre's eyes were narrowed, watching for any change in expression on Esteban's face. But nothing changed.
"No. No I hadn't."
Pierre had been too many drinks in already. He knew he would have to run into Charles and Esteban so he had gotten a head start on the drinking thinking that it would make it easier for him to see them. It had not.
"You look at him differently."
"Love," Esteban confirmed and the word landed like a slap across Pierre's face. "I look at him with love."
"I miss when you used to look at me the way you look at him now." It slipped out before Pierre could stop it. In the morning, Pierre would blame it on the alcohol, say that he had lost his filter and was just rambling drunkenly. Deep inside though, he knew he had meant it.
Esteban stilled at the confession and didn't move till the bartender tapped him on the shoulder to tell him that his drinks were ready. Esteban thanked him as he tipped the man and grabbed the drinks from the tray. Pierre hadn't expected a reply really as Esteban started to walk away. But then he stopped and turned around.
"I know you probably hate me," he said, "but remember that you don't hate Charles. So if you can, at least try and be happy for him. He really is happy, believe me. And I would never do anything to hurt him. I just hope you will do the same for him."
Pierre watched as Esteban walked through the crowd to find Charles and handed him his drink. He watched as Charles slightly craned his neck to thank Esteban with a kiss. He watched as Esteban slid his arm around Charles' waist with a kind of familiar comfort that Pierre never got to experience—and maybe never will.
He watched and he smiled as he tried to quell the rising sick feeling in his throat with another shot of tequila.