Formula one sickfics/oneshots

Logan - disappointment in the desert

Drivers: Logan, Oscar

Ages: Logan (22), Oscar (22)

- POV Logan -

I waved to all the paparazzi around the paddock, giving them a soft smile. "Logan, we need to hurry up. You're going to be late to the meeting", my trainer Ben, said, to which I sped up my pace. I entered the meeting room just in time. "Hey mate", Alex greeted me, pulling out a chair next to him, at the corner of the long table. I gave everyone an acknowledging head-nod, before slumping down in the chair and looking at the graphics presented on the big screen at the front of the room.

Somewhere halfway through the meeting, I zoned out, my throbbing headache and runny nose making it nearly impossible to focus on all that was said. I had been feeling awful since Wednesday, but it felt unnecessary to tell anyone about it, so I just took some medicine and moved on with my week, the pain gradually getting worse throughout the week. Today was definitely the worst day. Unluckily for me, it also so happened to be race-day today.

"Logan?", Alex whispered, pulling me out of my trance. My head snapped up and I tried to shift my attention to something Gaetan was explaining. " okay?", Alex asked me. I just gave him a thumbs up and nodded my head ever so slightly, wanting to avoid being a burden to him or any of the others. "Well team, that's it for today. Good luck and I believe in us. Let's make it happen", James wrapped up the meeting, followed by the sound of chairs scraping across the tiled floor, making me wince with how loud it sounded to me.

Once back in my driver's room, I chucked my half-full water bottle and placed a wet towel on my burning skin, aiming to lower the fever I surely had. I was slightly startled by a light knock on the door, before Ben let himself into the room. "Let's get to a bit of training, shall we?", he proposed, getting some of the equipment ready. I slowly got up from the small couch I had settled on and put up the fakest smile I could muster at the moment. The exercises didn't go as well as I had hoped, but frankly, I wasn't even surprised.

"Would it help if I massaged you for a bit? You seem quite tense mate", he asked. I nodded, eager to get rid of the aches that had been bothering me since the onset of this flu-like illness. I laid down on my stomach and Ben started massaging my shoulders, after which he moved on to the muscles on my lower back. "You're oozing heat, Logan! We definitely need to cool you down before the race or you'll pass out or something". His serious tone and scrunched brows told me this wasn't just a low-grade fever I was dealing with anymore and I was pulled towards the exit at the back of the garage, where a tub with ice water awaited me. I stripped down to my boxers and reluctantly stepped in, a shiver running down my spine as the cold water contrasted with my burning skin.

After about 10 minutes, my teeth started chattering and Ben helped me out of the bath, handing me a towel after noticing the goosebumps that, by now, were very prominent. I changed into my fireproofs, leaning my weight against the back of the couch to keep myself from falling. Once again, there was a knocking at the door. "Ben, you don't have to knock mate. Just come in", I said. The door swung open, and I was met with someone who was definitely not Ben. "Oscar, what are you doing here?", I asked, a smile tugging at my lips. I reaIised that I was still leaning on the couch and quickly stood up by myself so to not raise suspicion.

Clearly, this wasn't a very bright idea, as I started to feel lightheaded and stumbled forward, recovering just before my body was going to hit the ground. "Woah mate. What's going on? Are you okay?", Oscar asked worriedly, but I shrugged it off. "Just feeling a bit sick. Nothing to worry about". Oscar frowned, wrapping his hands around my upper arms and carefully guiding me to the massage table. "You need to sit down Logan. We don't need you to pass out on me". I nodded and reached for the box of Advil in my bag, popping 2 out of the packet and swallowing them dry. "So, I guess you won't be driving today then", Oscar said, as he handed me a bottle of water to sip on. "What do you mean?", I asked, a hint of confusion in my voice. Surely, I could drive with just a small illness. "What do I mean?! Logan! You weren't seriously considering driving 58 Quali-laps in the hottest grand-prix of the year while feeling like shit, were you?", he exclaimed. It wasn't very common for Oscar to raise his voice at people, so if he did, you instantly knew it was serious business.