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Summary
“Pssst! Nando!” Jenson elbowed him, grinning into the plastic water bottle at his lips.
Fernando glanced around, checking for any cameras pointing at them before shoving both of Jenson’s arms off the table. Fernando felt the tension in his shoulders ease, only slightly, as he watched Jenson’s antics. The water sloshed as it tipped downward, somehow refusing to spill. Jenson grinned as he pretended to focus on the small blonde journalist asking pointless questions. Fernando hears, vaguely, Jenson saying something to Daniel as he leant down to pick up the bottle cap.
“Boys, a question was asked.” Boullier cleared his throat sharply, nodding at the interviewer.
“Fernando, over the past three or so races, you seem to have had a consistent set of results, tell us how you did it?”
Fernando felt his eyes narrow, more fucking stupid questions. putas de mierda.
or
a very fluffy and occasionally cracky and beautiful brainchild about all of our favorite homo vroom vroom men