CHERIK F1 AU
Erik pointedly doesn't look at where Charles is giving his interview during the parade. His sunglasses might as well be bulletproof with how dark they are. He won't fall into the trap again. Charles doesn't get any insight into his thoughts anymore.
Eyes are the mirror of the soul, he remembers Charles telling him years ago in a hotel room they shared when they were just kids starting out in karting. And I can see everything in yours.
Not everything, Erik had said, even though he knew it was a lie.
"What are you thinking?" Kurt asks him. He's sucking on that vile energy drink they're sponsored by. Erik would rather gauge his eyes out than drink it, and he's lucky that he has enough leverage to make them change it into the one he actually likes, even if it's their direct competitor.
Formula One is full of secrets, known and unknown, and most of all, those that everyone pretends they don't know.
"The race," he lies. "What else would I be thinking about?"
Kurt snorts. It makes Erik look over at him, and Kurt's expression makes Erik switch to German.
"What was that sound?"
Kurt shrugs. "I bet Scott there will be a yellow flag and a DNF."
Erik inclines his head. "How much?"
"A thousand."
Erik turns his head nonchalantly. Charles' interview is over, and now he's leaned on the fence of the truck, right across from where Erik and Kurt are. He's saying something to Jean, who's nodding along seriously.
His sunglasses aren't dark enough, though. Erik catches every glance, lets it reflect and repel against the metal of his own sunglasses.
"You're going to lose. Scott is good at technicalities," he says, and smiles for the camera that gets shoved in his face right then.
He hits his hands on the steering wheel and screams in frustration. Then, he remembers where he is, and bites out a crisp, "I'm alright. I'm alright. The car is done, though."
"Copy," his engineer says. "Xavier is out too. We're submitting the crash under review. The stewards will review it after the race."
"Good," he replies viciously, then cuts off the comms. The dust around him is settling, and through it he sees Charles jumping out of his car.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He gets out of the car slowly, making sure to obey the rules. The stewards are jumping the fences, the cars stranded in the gravel.
He makes his way over to where Charles is reassuring the medical crew that he's alright. His helmet is in his hands, and his hair is a mess. Everyone notices him approaching, and they are all immediately on alert.
All except Charles, whose face is impassive.
"Double DNF," he says.
Charles inclines his head. "I guess dinner is on Scott tonight."
Erik bites his lip, because he refuses to laugh. "You're a fucking cunt."
Charles says nothing. There's nothing to say. Not between them; not anymore.
His eyes shine in the sunlight.
Erik leaves his helmet on.
