"Do you know," Pierre says, thoughtfully, "that kissing is supposed to help with stress relief?" "I did not know that," Charles replies weakly, because it's better than saying what the fuck or how the fuck did we even get to this point? The thing is, Charles knows exactly how they got to this point. The answer, as with so many things in their lives, is racing. The 2023 season is 3 races long already – or, well, only one full race for Charles. Two for Pierre, which is not really the start to the season either of them had hoped for. Needless to say, they were both frustrated, exhausted, and more than a little despondent after the Australian Grand Prix. Running into each other on the plane back had been a surprise, but then again, not that much of one. There are only so many planes heading out of Melbourne directly after the GP, after all. Pierre had thrown himself onto the seat next to Charles as soon as he'd seen him Charles hadn't been able to stop smiling even as he'd slapped Pierre's hands away. "Well, maybe," he had conceded, still grinning. And the thing was – he hadn't thought he would. Be able to smile, that was to say. Not after the weekend he'd had. But Pierre always found a way to brighten up any situation he was in. So Charles had rolled his eyes, but it had been fond, and he had shifted just enough that he could drop his head onto Pierre's shoulder. "Got any more brilliant ideas, Pierrot?"