PitBabeS2, Chapter 1 pg3

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   Before Alan could finish, a voice interrupted.

   “Where’s Charlie?”

   No one needed to turn to know whose voice it was. That teasing, annoying tone belonged to one person only.

   “Here,” Charlie replied softly, still not looking up from his tablet.

   “There you are!” Pitbabe’s voice brightened the moment he spotted his target sitting on the sofa, looking stressed. The famous racer plopped onto the armrest, slung an arm around his young partner’s neck, and planted a loud kiss on his cheek. The recipient of the surprise attack remained unfazed, as if Charlie had long grown used to this grumpy cat’s antics. “Hi, Papa.”

   “Where’ve you been?” Charlie asked, his hand slowly dragging the stylus across the tablet screen, scribbling something in his messy handwriting.

   “North begged me for an interview for his channel.”

   “So you finally let him film you?”

   “He said his views were dropping. How could I not help?” Babe grumbled, exasperated. Charlie gave a small, fond smile. Despite Babe’s outward annoyance, Charlie knew deep down how much Babe cared for the younger team members. He prioritized and worried about them just as much as Alan, the team captain, even doing things he disliked to make them happy, only to complain about it later. That was classic Pitbabe. “What’re you doing anyway… reading research again?”

   “A little. I’ve still got some time.”

   “If you’ve got time, shouldn’t you be preparing for the race?” Babe leaned closer to his boyfriend, pressing a kiss to his ear, nibbling lightly before whispering teasingly, “Need help… focusing?”

   “No need. I’ve got it under control,” Charlie tilted his head to dodge Babe’s touch. Though Babe’s senses were still linked to him (since the suppressant’s effects were only temporary), their bodies were different. Over time, Charlie found he could manage his heightened senses better, no longer needing sex as a crutch like Babe did. Meditation or reading was enough to calm the sensory chaos. “You go prep, Babe. I’ll…”

   Suddenly, Charlie’s voice trailed off mid-sentence. The young man set down his stylus and looked up at Babe for the first time. He stared intently, brows furrowed like a police dog sniffing out something suspicious in a traveler’s bag.

   “What?” Babe raised an eyebrow, confused by Charlie’s odd behavior.

   “Did you smoke, Babe?”

   Babe’s eyes widened like a kid caught sneaking candy before dinner. Still, he tried to play it cool, answering in a tone that strained to sound normal. “Uh… no?”

   “I can smell it,” Charlie narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to Babe and sniffing like a dog to confirm. “I didn’t smoke. It was Alan—he smoked and blew it in my face… Go deal with him, Papa!”

   “What?!” The accused yelped, mouth agape, stunned by his cheeky little brother’s shameless lie. “I just finished checking the car and came to sit here. I’ve been sitting… here the whole time. Are you nuts?”

   “Then why’re you acting so jumpy, Alan?” Babe, who’d only meant to tease, lost interest when he saw Alan’s guilty behavior, acting like he’d actually done something wrong.

   “This guy’s like Jeff when he’s interrogating—scared the hell outta me,” Alan muttered, rubbing his chest to calm himself, completely dropping his tough-guy team captain facade. In front of others, Alan was intimidating, like a mafia boss. But with the younger guys, he was just a grumpy old uncle—especially when Jeff was around. Total pushover.

   “Why’s your face all sour?” Babe lightly shoved Charlie’s head, noticing the kid still staring at him.

   “If you’re gonna keep smoking, Babe, I’ll smoke too.”

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