Formula One Shots

Stoffel Vandoorne [21]

A/N: I wasn't able to finish all the requests this summer, but I do have some that are waiting to be published. Anyway, my new study starts tomorrow (4 September) and my schedule sucks, so it might take a while to finish the other requests. I'm sorry in advance.

The picture of the waffle was sent in the group app and it breaks my heart to see him like this 😢

for agirlwholovesrain

21. "If you don't rest, you won't heal."

Word count: 537

When Stoffel arrived home after the race in Belgium, you immediately knew something was up. He was usually very cheerful and talkative, and now he went straight to bed, making you frown. You followed him to the bedroom, watching him groan and try to find a nice position to fall asleep. He looked tired.

"Stoff, what's up? You look like you're on drugs..." you said, trying not to chuckle at the thought of him being on drugs. He groaned in response, falling into a fit of coughing. You patted him on the back, hoping he wouldn't choke.

"Stoffel, you're not going to tell me you are sick, are you? You have to race next week!" you panicked a little. He couldn't be sick now.

"Fernando thought it would be a good idea to go swimming at night. I guess I'm facing the consequences now," Stoffel chuckled painfully and pouted.

"Alright, get under the covers, Vandoorne. I'll be right back with something to eat for you. Try to get some rest, okay?" you said as you pressed a kiss to his temple, stroking his cheek in the process. You felt his forehead, only to notice that he was burning up. "Oh, Stoff... you're burning up, sweetheart!"

He groaned, burying his head in the pillow, "I'm never going swimming again." you chuckled at this and stood up to prepare his favourite soup for him, searching for some medication in the meantime as well.

Half an hour later you walked back into the bedroom, only to find an empty bed. You frowned, sighing deeply. You put the soup and the medicine down on the nightstand and walked into the room where you thought he would be, the game room. You were right, he was practicing for the coming race, not even noticing your presence.

"Stoffel Vandoorne!" you snapped at him, scaring him, which resulted in him hitting the wall. You grabbed his controller and shut the tv. You crossed your arms and stood in front of him, "To bed. Now," you commanded. Your boyfriend pouted, but nodded his head nevertheless. He got into the bed and grabbed the cup of soup and the medicine you had put down on the nightstand.

You sat down next to him, looking at him pitifully. "You need to stay in bed, Stoff. Only that way there might be a chance that you'll be able to race next weekend."

"But I need to stay fit," he said before sneezing.

"Well, you are staying here until you are fit again. If you don't rest, you won't heal," you said, tracing his arm in comfort.

"You sound like my grandmother," Stoffel said tiredly, finishing the soup. You put the cup down on the nightstand and tucked Stoffel in.

"I don't care if I do, I only want you to get better," you smiled down on him, "because I love you, and I hate seeing you like this."

"I know, thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you, babe," Stoffel said with a small smile, closing his eyes. "Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Of course. Sleep well sweetheart," you said as you cuddled into his chest, not caring if he got you sick.