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effervescentdragon · 9 months

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hee hee. piarles + 15 🤭❤️

15. Con Artist and the person who saw through their grift.

'This is the last leg, focus, so all you need to do is-'

"Shut the fuck up," Charles hisses at Lando through his teeth. "I can't be seen talking to myself, and I can't focus with you talking into my - hello, Pierre," he says with a wide smile. He can feel sweat gathering on his forehead, but he refuses to acknowledge it in any way. He's trained himself out of those ticks a long time ago, and the harsh lights and his three-piece ridiculous suit are enough to justify the sweat.

"Hello, cher," Pierre says. He looks lovely, handsome and hot in his tuxedo under the casino lights, like a movie star from those old movies his maman likes to watch. "You look dashing," Pierre continues, and Charles hates the fact that his blush is real and not a ruse. He thanks all the gods no one on his team can see him, because he's sure they'd all know.

"Thank you, Pierre," Charles replies. "Do you want a drink?" He leans back on the bar and gives Pierre his honest, shy smile just as Lando says 'He's so fucking gone on you, it's hillarious'.

Charles is going to punch Lando as soon as the job is done. He sips his martini so as not to grit his teeth. Pierre steps closer to him and Charles can feel the heat of his body as he leans half over Charles to signal the bartender for a drink.

"Of course, Renard," Pierre says. "Do you want a refil?"

Charles does his best not to flinch as he shakes his head. Every time Pierre uses Charles' fake name, Charles wants to scream. It wasn't supposed to be like this. None of this was supposed to be like this.

"Suit yourself," Pierre says. His knuckles brush over Charles' hand and Charles supresses - everything. He's a professional. He can get through this without getting attached.

Liar, he thinks. You stupid, pathetic liar. Get yourself together. Pierre isn't the first pretty mark you've worked with.

He is the first and only one that seems to genuinely care, though, a traitorous thought escapes him. He squashes it with a big sip of his martini.

'I think Ricciardo is on his way,' Lando says. 'Seb will be with you in some ten minutes, and then-'

"My boss is on his way," Pierre says. He's close enough to touch Charles and with the way Charles is leaning against the bar, he's forced to look up at Pierre. "So the contract should be signed very soon."

"Good." Charles makes himself smile. "My boss is on his way too." He raises his glass. "I'll just be glad when it's over."

Pierre taps on his glass. "Hmm," he hums. "Yes, I suppose you will." He clinks his glass to Charles'. "You will be going as soon as we're done?"

Charles swallows around the lump in his throat. "Yes," he says. "I need to oversee the development of the compounds we are building and prepare everything for when Mr. Ricciardo comes for the tour."

Pierre hums again. "Yes, indeed." He looks at Charles, and Charles doesn't know how to interpret that look. It's intense, and it feels like Pierre is searching for something in Charles' face.

Except, you're not Charles, he thinks. You're Renard Deveraux, head architect for the seemingly sustainable water filtering factories in India. You're honest, and outgoing, and you're about to seal the deal that will cost Daniel Ricciardo millions and set you up for the next year so you won't have to work. Seb won't call you last minute because he needs a grifter, and you won't have to work with Lando, and you'll never see Pierre again.

Fuck, Charles thinks just as Sebastian walks up to them with Daniel, both of them laughing. "Gentlemen," Seb says in an exaggerated German accent that isn't that far away from his own accent that comes out when he's roo tired to keep up his accent-less English. "Everything alright here?" His eyes flash in Charles' direction but Charles ignores him. He's fine. Everything's fine.

"Of course, Mr. Schmidt," Pierre says. His hand touches Charles' as he moves a bit. He doesn't move it away. It doesn't even occur to Charles to move at all.

"Please, Pierre, call me Johann," Sebastian says with a wide smile. Charles smiles at Daniel, because he's not Charles who is disgusted with the blatant, dark desire he sees in Ricciardo's eyes. He's Renard, who has been flirting with Daniel since they met. Renard, who allowed Daniel into his personal space and hooked him just enough to make the fake deal that Sebastian came up with for the con a certain success.

Pierre inclines his head. "Of course."

Daniel laughs that uncomfortably loud laugh of his. "Alright, alright, we're all friends here, yes? Now let's go sign the deal and then we can party. Right, Renard?"

Charles smiles and hopes it looks seductive enough. "Of course, Mr. Ricciardo," he chuckles. "But business first."

"Just the way I like it," Sebastian adds, and follows Ricciardo towards his office.

Charles is about to follow them, when Pierre grabs him by the arm. Charles tries to keep his breathing steady as Pierre speaks.

"Renard, I-"

Charles can't - he just can't. He steps closer, all the way into Pierre's space, and leans in.

"It's okay," he murmurs, forces himself to smile. "I'll see you in South Africa in a month, okay?"

Pierre looks at every inch of Charles's face, and Charles is in a full three-piece suit but he's never felt as naked as he does now.

"Yes," Pierre finally speaks slowly, meaningful in some way that evades Charles. "You will."

***

They sign the contract. Daniel transfers the millions into an offshore account Lando had set up. They drink a toast, and as soon as it's possible, Charles and Seb excuse themselves and reaffirm the plans of meeting Ricciardo and Pierre in a month. When they finally say goodbye, Charles forces himself not to look back, deapite being able to feel two pairs of eyes on him the whole time, only one of which didn't make him want to either throw up or take a long shower.

They take a cab to the airport together. When Sebastian opens his mouth in front of the terminal as they're smoking a cigarette, Charles shakes his head. "Don't," he asks. "Just... don't." He inhales deeply, the smoke burning his throat and making him dizzy. "Please, Seb. Just... not now."

Seb doesn't try to speak again. His eyes, when they look at Charles, are uncharacteristically sad. He throws away his cigarette, hugs Charles close for a moment, and leaves without another word.

There is nothing left to say. Charles knows who Seb is thinking of; which mark he's thinking of. Charles was there when they conned... well, no matter. It's history, just like this con will be history.

Just like Pierre will become history. Not the man who listened to Charles talk about architecture like it's the most interesting thing in the world when Charles let his guard down and forgot to be Renard. Not the man who told Charles about his own passion for clothes, and the man who shared Charles' interest in old cars and fast cars. Not the man who looked at Charles like he saw him, saw Charles under all the layers his character demanded. Pierre will not be that man; he'll be just another mark in a list of people that Charles conned out of their money and left behind.

Charles smokes three more cigarettes before he goes inside and buys a one way ticket to Panama under the name Peter Freeman. He vowes to punch Alex the next time he sees him for that little dig, then boards the plane and gets just drunk enough to sleep most of the way to Panama.

***

Panama is beautiful, and warm, and colourful, and Charles hates it.

It's been three weeks of sun and sea and alcohol and beautiful people that wanted Charles. The only problem was that the sun burned Charles' skin, and the sea made him feel sad, and the alcohol didn't tase good, and Charles didn't want all those people.

He was pining, and he was annoyed, and he was bored, and he didn't know what to do or how to get over it.

He's sitting at the beach bar, deciding if another cocktail is worth it, when someone sits on the stool next to him.

"This seat taken?"

Charles turns so quickly, he's pretty sure he pulls a muscle in his neck.

"I - what are you doing here?" is all he can say, because he hasn't been this surprised since that job in Azerbaijan ended up with him and Sebastian having to improvise their way out of a drug kingpin's villa. Maybe not even then. Seb always makes risky plans.

"It took me a while to find you," Pierre says. His sunglasses are perched on his head, and his shirt is unbottoned just enough for Charles to see tha cross glinting in the middle of his chest.

Charles swallows. "How?"

Pierre's eyes twinkle. "You know, before I worked for Ricciardo, I had another employer. Nico Rosberg?" he says, and Charles' eyes widen. "Yes, I thought so." He chuckles. "Anyways, long story short is - I quit my job before Ricciardo realised he signed over fifty million for compounds that don't exist, I called Nico, and then I got out of Italy. The worst part was tracking down Schmidt - I mean, Vettel," he said, and Charles was finding it pretty hard to breathe. "Convincing him to talk to me was even harder, but in the end I managed to convince him to give me your location."

"Seb didn't know -" Charles starts to say, then bites his lip at Pierre's chuckle. "Well. You found me."

"I did."

They stare at each other for a moment, and Charles is pretty sure that it isn't the heat making him uncomfortable. He clears his throat.

"So. What now?" he asks, because he doesn't know what to think, or what to feel. Pierre is standing in front of him, after tracking him down to Panama, and he looks like sin and he doesn't look like he's mad at Charles.

Pierre slides off his chair and steps closer into Charles' space. "Now, well. Everything I have planned requires your explicit consent, actually."

The way his eyes roam over Charles' skin is enough to light a fire inside Charles unlike any he's ever felt. He clears his throat again, then remembers something.

"I - I think I will consent to anything you want," he says, cheeks burning under Pierre's gaze. "But I think you should know, well, you probably guessed, but my name isn't Renard."

Pierre makes a final step and Charles can't move. "Oh, I know. I guessed that a long time ago, and I know you probably want to know everything, how and why and all that, but for now," he raises his hand and trails a finger down Charles' arm, leaving goosebumps on Charles' skin, "I think I'd like to do something I've wanted to do ever since I met you." Pierre raises his gaze to look straight into his eyes. "Charles."

Charles doesn't wait a moment more; he can't. He pushes forward and kisses Pierre with everything he's got, and when Pierre's arms wind around his waist, holding him up, he allowsh himself to smile into the kiss and then deepen it, like he's wanted to ever since he first saw Pierre.

They'll figure it out. Pierre is capable, and Charles... Charles is a grifter. He can figure out anything, and right now, he needs to figure out how to make Pierre make that sound again.

#okay im in hella pain amd i cant sleep so. here. have this <3 #i love you very much #con artists au #theres lore here but im too tired to incorporate it in not a clunky way #piarles #effervescentdragonwrites #my writing #f1 rpf #thanks phoebs <3333

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