clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose.

But instead, everything had gone off without a hitch. He’d decorated, he’d prepped food and drinks. He’d invited everyone he could think of– friends, family, her squad, and other co-workers– and led them all to the bar’s basement floor, the red, dim lit speakeasy portion that was sometimes rented out for parties on nights when there wasn’t a live music showcase. They were all waiting there while he went back upstairs and outside, knowing she was due to arrive at any time now. Spotting the familiar red Porsche pull in, Aslan grinned, and had to keep himself from excitedly shifting his weight between his feet while he waited for her to approach.

His breath hitched in the back of his throat when he saw her– a black dress and heels were the quickest way to get to him, and he knew that she knew that. But tonight wasn’t about him, and he could hardly wait to show her what was waiting downstairs. Wrapping his arms around her frame, he tipped his face into the crook of her neck, savoring the closeness just for a moment before easing back and catching her quick kiss. “You could say that, yeah,” he nodded, his smile taking on a mischievous tilt. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he added, pausing and holding up a hand. “–and don’t say I know.” Aslan was only teasing, of course, and reminding her of her response the first time he’d dared to call her beautiful.  

“C’mon,” he motioned, slipping his fingers through hers and leading her inside the bar. It was empty– something he hoped wouldn’t tip her off right away. But he’d closed the bar for the night, determined to have the focus solely on her and actually be there to enjoy it with her, rather than serving customers. “Gotta check on something downstairs– real boring work shit,” he continued, guiding them into the elevator. Pressing the appropriate button, he tugged her into his arms, “I love you,” he started, though it sounded more like a friendly warning more than a declaration, “Just remember that.” 

And then the doors opened, and the whole room erupted with one, singular word–

SURPRISE.

“Downstairs, hmm?” Mickey nudged him playfully with her shoulder as she followed him into the elevator. She wasted no time, of course, letting him push the button and pull her close. “I bet we can come up with a way to make it a little less boring,” she teased, her mind assuming that was what his mischievous smile had been all about. As soon as she was close enough to him, Mickey moved her lips toward Aslan’s ear, beginning to detail a laundry list of ways they could spice things up complete with locations and positions she was dying to have him in.

Just remember that.

If she wasn’t halfway through dropping a load of filth in Aslan’s ear, Mickey might’ve caught the weight of that phrase. Instead, she was locked and loaded, her hands moving to undo a button on Aslan’s shirt already. She barely noticed the elevator coming to a halt, convinced that leaving the logistics to Aslan was better in a moment like this. After all, he’d never let her down yet.

The safety Mickey always found with Aslan wasn’t a surprise, not anymore. In the beginning, it’d come before she could name it: the way he was the only person she wanted to see when she’d felt off after going out with her friends. There it’d been in the morning, recognizing that he moved into a protective position as soon as someone entered his apartment unexpectedly. It had been swift, the way she let her guard down with him around, and Mickey hadn’t bothered to pump the breaks once she began to catch on. That was the only reason she hadn’t been on guard, which was precisely why the sound of the room behind her bursting into one cohesive scream sent a jolt through Mickey.

It was obvious to everyone that they’d surprised her—that was the point, right?—but Mickey didn’t care. She jumped, spinning around immediately with adrenaline coursing through her veins, taking in the scene before her. It was the bar downstairs, of course, but it was filled with all of her favorite people. Mickey’s brother, cousin, friends and coworkers were all standing there with giant smiles plastered on her face, and it hit her: Aslan had planned a surprise party. For her.

The shift of her face from shock to gratitude was immediate, and once the expletive she’d dropped at the initial shock was lost in the laughter and cheers of the people waiting for her, Mickey turned back to Aslan. “You put this whole thing together just for me?” It was a simple question, soft and sincere, and she hoped he understood the weight it carried. “You dirty, sneaky liar,” she teased, her tone so obviously playful that there was no doubt she held zero anger toward him. Slipping one arm around his waist, Mickey leaned into his side as she turned to face the small crowd gathered there to celebrate her. She waved at everybody, not quite sure what to do in the moment, but not daring to leave her boyfriend's side. “You know what? This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I don't even want to think about how scary it is that your sister can keep this whole thing a secret for so long.”

"I'm the second, too," Mitch said as he met Oliver's gaze. "Well, it sounds like she deserved it, if you ask me." He was, of course, joking. He'd pulled similar pranks on his siblings growing up, probably more so than any of his other siblings. Mitch earned his spot as the family jokester early on, and he never let anyone forget it, not even Mickey. "Wait, hold on," Mitch said, his brows furrowing together slightly. "Quarterback broke her heart? NFL guy. Let me guess, he's got a 'real punchable jaw', doesn't he?" Shaking his head, Mitch rolled his eyes. Of fucking course, he thought to himself, recalling the woman Mickey had talked about setting him up with. "Your little sister wouldn't happen to be a kindergarten teacher, would she? Named Stella?"

When it came to keeping the party a secret from Mickey, Aslan was about as calm as he could get. Sure, he’d felt wrong not clueing her in on what he was doing, but he wasn’t nervous. No, the reason why he was fidgeting while he was arranging champagne flutes on the bartop downstairs was because of something much more serious– and life-long. Spotting Mickey’s brother off to the side, Aslan blew out the breath that had damn near burned a hole in his lungs after he’d been holding it for so long and decided there was no time like the present. Mickey would arrive soon enough and he knew he’d miss his window if he chickened out for any longer than he already had. 

Abandoning the champagne flutes, he walked over to Mitch, “Hey, man. You got a minute?” He prompted, clearing his throat like it might help coax out the words he needed to get started, “Wanted to talk to you about something before Mick gets here. It’s…it’s pretty important.” Like asking for permission to marry her important– but Aslan kept that bit to himself, at least for now. “Walk with me?”

The surprise party was going to be a blast, Mitch knew. It was already going perfectly and his sister hadn't even shown up yet. He found himself standing with some of her squad, sharing stories about people they'd crossed paths with over the years and trying to see just how small the Navy world really was. He'd offered his help more than once, but it was clear that Aslan, Bobby, Leyla and Azra had it under control. He knew better than to force his way into that crowd. They were the types who knocked shit out with ease and efficiency, and he'd probably just end up breaking shit if he offered too much assistance. He saw Aslan coming before he heard him, a brow quirking up as soon as he met the man's gaze.

"Yeah, of course," he offered up immediately, nodding to the pilots he'd been chatting with and lifting a finger. They'd barely notice his absence, truth be told, and Mitch didn't mind at all. Mitch could tell something was off, and it was very much not like Aslan to let something get him down. "Hit me with it," he said before his mouth twitched upward at one end. "Unless, of course, you're planning on telling me that you're madly in love with me and you want to run away together. I'm afraid I'd have to shoot you down out of respect for my sister. After all, she can kick my ass." Reaching a hand up to scratch the beard he'd started growing—oh, the freedom that came from leaving active duty, even if it was only temporarily—Mitch studied Aslan's face. "You're not worried she's going to be mad about this whole surprise thing, right? Mick's smarter than that, she knows this isn't the same as lying. Not really."

starting over - are you a little overwhelmed with where our thread is going? let me know, and i'd be happy to start a new one with you!

pausing - if you're feeling one thread more than another we have going on, that's perfectly fine! you're welcome to let me know if you'd like, but it's not a necessity.

multiples - if we have a ship that you love and you have many ideas for them, always feel welcome to throw them at me no matter what! while it may affect my reply speed due to having more, it doesn't affect my interest at all!

regrouping - maybe we initially had an idea that didn't pan out but you don't know how to say it? just shoot me a message and let me know you'd like to plot further/something else.

A flicker of a smile creased the corners of his eyes as she opened the door, ushering him in with the sort of greeting that was perhaps the antithesis of one between lovers– and that made it all the more amusing to him. At least here, they didn’t have to pretend. He stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him. “Take your time,” he murmured, dark eyes darting around the hotel room while she finished up. It was exactly like he’d expected– neat, minimalistic, sharp to a militaristic degree. He smiled more fully then– both because he’d been right in his assumption of how she traveled and because she couldn’t see him grinning from where she was in the bathroom. He filed it away– something else to note about the woman who was supposed to be his girlfriend. 

Catching her words, Enzo chuckled softly and cleared his throat, “Trust me, despite being all about money, they’re the least pretentious events we’ll have to go to.” On the surface, fundraisers didn’t appear that way, but the truth of it all was somewhat different. Most people were gathered there in good faith, raising money for something that mattered. They hardly cared what anyone looked like. No, he hadn’t seen her outfit yet, but Enzo would argue that Kiraz could go dressed in a burlap sack and she’d still be the most beautiful woman in the room– but he’d never admit that, largely because he doubted she’d believe it if it came from him. 

When she did emerge, Enzo swallowed thickly, momentarily at a loss for words as his dark eyes drank her in, studying her from head to toe. “Wow,” he managed, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You look beautiful.” He followed her line of sight then, eyeing the heels in question. Wordlessly, he made his way over to them and crouched down, “Excellent touch,” he agreed with a laugh– and then the idea struck him. “Come here,” he prompted, taking one of the Louboutins in his hands, hoping that alone would make his intent known. If anything, he was armed with the excuse that if they were going to convince anyone that they were a couple, then she’d have to get used to random acts of kindness, or daresay chivalry, and her expressions would have to match– meaning, she couldn’t glower at him like he assumed she was at his attempt to put her heels on for her. “We have to sell this,” he reminded her, tipping a glance up at her, a smirk forming on his lips, “so you can’t scowl at me when I do something nice in public– practice makes perfect, right?” He was teasing, mostly. He didn’t doubt Kiraz’s ability to play her part. But most of all, he was just using it as an excuse to get close to her– to learn more about what made her tick. 

He sobered slightly though, shifting gears to the very real nature of the agreement they’d settled on, “You sure about this?” Enzo asked, giving her one last chance to back out of all of it before it became the hard launch that the F1 community would salivate over for months to come. The speculation had already been planted, but this event would confirm all of it. Was she really alright with tethering herself to him in that way? “Because once we step out like this at a fundraiser, it’s a lot harder to backtrack. I just need to know that you’re sure.” And if she wasn’t? She’d walk away unscathed, no questions asked. Fuck the team’s plan.

She'd barely looked at him when she opened the door, but that had been somewhat intentional. Kiraz knew what Enzo Pavarotti looked like, at his best and his worst. She'd seen him in-person more times than she could count, and she'd had to deliberately avoid looking at him any time they were in a debrief meeting for fear of falling into a pool of desire she couldn't get out of. However, taking in the handsome man before her made all that effort dissipate as though it'd never bothered in the first place. She swallowed back as much desire as she could, hoping to heaven above that he didn't hear her heartbeat kick up a notch. Being the center of his attention was not new, but it certainly was something she was still figuring out how to manage. "Thank you," she replied, only half a beat too late, forcing herself to smile despite the urge to turn away before he noticed the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

Come here.

It wasn't so much a command as a polite request, but Kiraz had a hard time convincing her brain of that. Her body responded instantly, moving over to where he was crouched next to her bed despite everything in her brain screaming not to get too close. It wasn't fear or hatred that warned her off, it was pure desire. If she closed the gap, Kiraz wasn't certain she could stop herself from doing more—but that didn't matter. Her body did as it usually did in a situation as intimate as this one felt: it obeyed the command silently and swiftly. Her heart was beating so loud in her own ears that she wondered if Enzo would hear it himself, but then his words swam past the noise.

If Enzo expected a scowl, the look on her face would be nothing short of a surprise. Her face was soft, eyes almost timid while her teeth sank into the perfectly stained lips she'd traced so carefully in the mirror just before his arrival. "Right," she said, breathlessly sitting on the bed before him, "of course. Practice." She nodded once, focusing on her breathing while she smoothed her hands over the bedspread, determined not to let him see the way they twitched in desperation to reach out and touch him. Lifting her foot, Kiraz let Enzo have his moment of practice, of chivalry, of whatever the hell he wanted to call this move that was slowly tearing down every bit of her resolve.

She was lost in thought, watching his hands on the shoe with more focus than entirely necessary, when Enzo spoke again. "Hmm?" Brows twitching slightly in question, Kiraz let his words settle in her mind. Finally, it seemed, he was throwing her a lifeline—giving Kiraz a chance to regain her composure and right the ship. Leaning back, Kiraz rested both hands on the bed behind her. She tilted her head to one side and quirked a brow upward, daring him to doubt her. It didn't matter if he did or not, really, the simple dare alone felt like enough of her old self to give her the strength to continue. "Do I strike you as the sort of woman who does things I'm not certain about, Enzo Pavarotti?" She used the toe of her foot to nudge him in the chest playfully. "I've weighed all the outcomes, trust me. If I'm here, I'm here because it's what's best for me, what's best for my team, and what's best for my driver. You're not trying to back out now, are you? Because I spent entirely too long getting ready just to have you bail on me now."

She listened attentively, because clearly Rosaline didn't know how it all worked out. The curiosity had been there from the start, but when Kiraz first shared the news, it didn't seem right to ask right off the bat. "I see. Yeah that is true. If I didn't know anything, I definitely would've been curious why you weren't posting anymore. And pictures of Enzo, gosh you know people are always hoping for more." She offered her a smile, glad to hear that, at least, they were being welcoming to her. It all seemed like a huge stress to take on, so it was relieving to hear one aspect was a little less. Sort of. "Oh, that sucks but maybe next girl's nights, you can extend an invite or host them. More friends never hurts. I'm sure that is kind of bizarre, you're in a different space though that makes you super unique." The models, influencer girlfriends was almost a given, Kiraz was everything they didn't expect.

"I hope you're right." Now, Rosaline's understanding was a bit less technical than Kiraz or Jack, but she tried her best to keep up. "I think so. They've seemed less stressed, which maybe means they're on to something." Ideas flowing or a more detailed game plan. "They're laser-focused which is a good sign. I know some drivers get kind of caught up in the media or fan chatter. The rumbles are always so loud, aren't they? I'm hopeful they'll have a shot to join the fight." And the atmosphere wasn't too tense, which is why she even had that sliver of hope to begin with.

She tried withholding a cheeky smile, hearing her friend describe Enzo in such a positive light. Not because she had a different opinion of him, but because it was amusing to hear. Almost sounded like admiration. Still, her smile won out, tugging at the ends of her lips. "He sounds like a completely fun mystery to unwrap. Thank god he hasn't been like your assumptions. What's the most fun you've had with him?" Zipping her lips, she nodded. "Not a peep from me, promise."

"I've actually made a game out of it. I try to post the most 'thirst-trap' type pictures of him I can find sometimes, just so his fans can freak out about that and drown out all of the questions." There were still those random comments now and then about how their relationship had seemingly popped up out of nowhere, and they made her feel a bit insecure. If she wasn't doing her job right, if too many people started poking holes in their story, things would get out of control quickly. Thankfully, the fact that she was relatively a nobody beforehand made all of it much easier to brush aside. After all, a professional like her needed to make sure something was serious before hard-launching it, right? "We have grabbed dinner a couple times, and there's a few who are really trying to include me, which I appreciate. A couple of them purposefully pushed dinner back an hour last week so I could come after curfew started. Thank god they're not the catty type."

"Good," she said with a nod as Rosaline explained where her drivers seemed to be. "It can be tough to be in the position of having to hear all the media and fan stuff but not quite knowing what's coming down the pipes. Thankfully I'm usually aware of major upgrades before the media is, so I can anticipate a couple of terrible races before the light at the end of the tunnel. At least your drivers seem fun, too. Enzo and Jean are always one breath away from killing each other, so our social content team has a really tough time with them." She'd seen the Williams boys, they got on like bread and butter. It actually made the entire team seem that much more fun. With as much time as a team spent traveling together, it was vital that they get along, at least for the smaller teams.

Thinking back on the events she'd attended with Enzo, Kiraz smiled softly. They'd done a handful of things together so far, and it really had all been pretty fun. As much as she anticipated boring events and constant bickering, Enzo had proven her wrong from the start. "We attended this fundraiser a while back," she explained. "It was our first formal outing, I guess, the first one where I attended an event as his girlfriend. I was nervous as hell, but we ended up on the balcony together talking shit about some of the more pretentious attendees. He had me laughing so hard that my abs hurt the next day." She shook her head, still not totally sure she hadn't dreamed the moment instead. "I didn't even know he was that funny, honestly."