Morgen

Ronald Speirs x male Reader x Albert Blithe

(mc)

sfw

-It starts with Blithe looking at you like you hung the damm moon. Quiet, shy, a little startled you check on him, but he never pulls away.

-Speirs notices. Of course he does. It’s Speirs after all.

-You think Speirs hates you at first. Spoiler :he does not. He’s just trying not to scare you off.

-You’re the balance between them.

Blithe needs reassurance; Speirs needs somewhere to lay his guard down.

You end up giving both without even meaning to.

-Speirs treats you like you’re already his.

Hand on the small of your back.

Standing between you and danger.

That quiet, unreadable stare that feels like he’s peeling back your soul.

-Blithe is all soft touches, pinky brushes, lingering glances, shy smiles he immediately hides.

-Blithe gets jealous first.

He doesn’t mean to.

But the way Speirs stares at you like you’re something sacred?

It makes Blithe’s stomach twist.

-Speirs never shows jealousy, but god help the man who flirts with you in front of him.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just stands there, arms crossed, watching the poor soul with dead-serious eyes until they evaporate.

-It happens when you get hurt.

Not seriously — just a graze.

Blithe breaks, voice shaking when he grabs your face.

Speirs snaps, ordering you to sit down while he checks the wound himself.

You laugh, tell them you’re fine.

Both of them look at you like you just confessed a war crime.

That night?

Speirs says it plainly:

“We’re not losing you. Either of us.”

Blithe adds in a trembling voice:

“We don’t have to choose… right?”

And hell, your heart never stood a chance.

-Blithe loves when you hold his hand — that soft, intimate kind of touch that makes him breathe easier.

-Speirs prefers a hand on the back of his neck or gripping his shoulder.

He melts for it. (Not that he’ll admit that.)

-Sleeping arrangement? Most of the time just you and Blithe together in a foxhole or barn. Speirs is still an officer.

no obvious flirting. no lingering in the paddock. no stupidly obvious tension like people expect.

it’s the kind of thing that only shows up in really small ways.

like max noticing when oscar changes something about his driving before anyone else does. a slightly later braking point. a different line through a corner. and he doesn’t say anything about it publicly, but a week later he’s trying the same thing.

or oscar somehow always ending up near max in the drivers’ room after a race. not sitting together. not talking much. just… existing in the same quiet space.

imagine max being one of the only drivers who doesn’t treat oscar like the “young polite rookie.” he races him properly. hard. no hesitation.

and oscar never backs out of a move on him.

imagine the rest of the grid thinking they barely interact.

but every now and then someone catches something small:

max leaning slightly closer when oscar says something under his breath.

oscar already knowing exactly why max is annoyed after a race before max even says anything.

little things that look completely normal unless you’re paying attention.

and if anyone ever asked either of them about it, they’d both just shrug.

“we get along.”