F1 oneshots

2. P.G10 Like our love.

"it's my job to look after you."

Context: you're ill and Pierre doesn't want to leave you alone.

1116 words
Warnings: Fluff.

An: Another little practice because I have nothing else to write and this was made up a little while ago so excuse me while I expand my writing lol.

My eyes fluttered open slowly as I felt the sheets shuffling next to me, groaning slightly as I attempted to rub the sleep from my eyes.

"I did try not to wake you."
A sheepish whisper, was let out from the moving counterpart, Pierre.
I took a deep breath, sitting up quickly, rubbing my eyes harder and letting out a massive yawn.

"You failed, I'm up."
He chuckled, leaning on the bed to kiss the hands rubbing my eyes, making me smile as his stubble rubbed my knuckles.
I dropped my hands for a moment, meeting his lips with mine.
A wave of bliss washing over me as I captured his bottom lip.
It was personal, sweet and soft.
Just like my partner.

"You can sleep a bit longer, I don't mind but I'm getting a drink and doing some chores."
He smiled, raising his hand to brush some messy strands of hair out of my face.
I was definitely red from the kiss and my hair was definitely looking like a birds nest.

"Can you get me some water? My throat is sore."
I said, tapping my fingertip on the sore area.
He brushed his hand down my neck, catching my hand with his, holding it firm in his and leaning in to press a small kiss to the sore area.

"Better?"
"A little, but I still need that water."
I smiled, catching his lip again, taking his top one this time, his teeth grazing the soft tissue, kissing me back before dropping my hand and pushing off the bed, disappearing downstairs.
Chairs were moving, cabinets opening and closing, at one point I heard the sweeping brush.

I ran a brush through my hair so I felt a little better about spending my day in bed and changed out of my top and into one of Pierre's soft long sleeves after struggling to find it in-between his base layers, trying to battle with the open windows that let in the draft.
I was still sore after yesterday but much better after my sleep.
Steph made me train my ass off yesterday and the day before was the last race before summer break.
'a coMMon cOld!' I will never listen to Max Verstappen again.
The thought of the conversation made me giggle, reimagining how his voice cracked and then how his face fell when I told him I was sick with a vomiting bug and wouldn't be enjoying the summer break.
Pierre was nice enough to look after me even when he was invited to go see friends, but we had plans to see his mum this weekend and see his nieces.

"Water for the lady and a selection of fruits for your 5 a day."
Pierre said placing the stuff on my bedside table while I pulled my hair out of the neck of his shirt, closed the top drawer and tossing the old one the basket for wash.
He jokingly pulled the sheets back the same way he opens the car door for me and I climbed back into bed, the blanket coming up to my waist and he sat next to me, resting his hand on my knee.

"That bug better go away before Saturday, I don't wanna leave you here, my mum will be so sad."
Pierre said, rolling his eyes at me as if to say 'How dare you get sick' in a joking way.
I laughed, taking a sip of water from my glass.
He tugged at the sleeve on my wrist, pulling it up so it wasn't rolled.

"Maybe, staying in bed with me all day is the remedy."
I boasted, looking at the ceiling as if I didn't know what I was saying.
He smiled and flopped across my legs, his arms resting on his side of the bed.
I smiled, ruffling his already messy hair with my hand and running my finger down his nose.
He sighed contently and closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling.
I leaned down to press a small kiss to his nose.

"Fine, I'm sold, if you're still sick tomorrow we will push my mum's back."
He whispered, taking one of my hands and locking it in his.

"Oh no, Don't push your mum's back, I can look after myself for a day or two, maybe somebody else can drop in to check on me."
I said, my hand shaking slightly as I brushed his nose with my finger again, I was still sore and my voice croaked when I started my sentences.

"What if you throw up again? I can't hold your hair."
He pouted, sitting up in between my legs to look at me, scooping me up into his lap and brushing his fingers through the hair that rested on my shoulder.

"You don't have to, I can hold it myself."
I said, smiling at him before caving into another yawn, burring my face into his neck as I do so.
He laughed slightly, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me down with him and shuffling the blankets over us.
I sat on his lap, my hands balancing on his chest as he smiled up at me.

"We'll see."
He muttered, pushing my hair out of my face.
His fingers brushed my shoulder and I felt the same happy sparks I always feel when he touches me.

"No, you won't push your mum back, I'm sure Charles or somebody is around."
He furrowed his eyebrows and his face fell very serious, almost annoyed.

"It's my job to look after you."