F1 Groupchat + House PART 2

✨27.🇲🇽✨

It was Wednesday afternoon. Mark glanced at his phone for the third time that afternoon, his worry growing with every passing second.

The message from Fernando had been brief and that's what Mark worried "Not feeling well. Headed home early."

Normally, Fernando powered through his workdays and meetings. without so much as a yawn, so this message felt... different.

It worried Mark... A lot.

By the time Mark stepped into their hotelroom, Fernando was already in bed, his dark curls spilling over the pillow and his face flushed.

He had a pile of tissues by his side, and an empty mug rested on the nightstand. The sight tugged at Mark's heart.

Mark hated to see Fernando vulnerable or sick. So this sight broke his heart slightly.

"Hello my love," he whispered, brushing a hand gently over Fernando's warm forehead.

Fernando's eyes fluttered open, revealing a glassy, feverish gaze.

"Mark?" Fernando's voice was with the thick Spanish accent and slightly groggy.

He sniffled, and his hand sought Mark's, squeezing it weakly.

"Yeah, I'm here," Mark said, bending down to kiss his fiancé's forehead.

"You're burning up, love. When did this start?" The Aussie asked worried.

Fernando closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Felt weird at the first meeting. Like I was hit by a bus," he mumbled, letting out a cough that rattled his entire chest.

Mark felt a pang of guilt. He should have checked in earlier, should have made sure Fernando got home safely.

"I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere," Mark said, offering a comforting smile.

Fernando attempted a weak chuckle.

"You sure? I'm a mess." The Spanish man said.

"The handsomest mess I've ever seen," Mark replied, making Fernando crack a faint smile.

"Let me get you some tea, and then we'll see about getting that fever down." The Aussie said.

Mark set off to the kitchen, a sense of purpose guiding him.

He poured water into a kettle, his mind racing through what he needed: tea, medicine, soup—maybe even a blanket.

When he returned with a steaming cup of tea and a gentle smile, Fernando had managed to prop himself up slightly, but he still looked pale and exhausted.

Mark sat beside him on the bed, handing him the mug. "Slow sips," he instructed, brushing a reassuring hand along Fernando's shoulder.

"You're the best," Fernando murmured, lifting the tea to his lips and taking a careful sip.

"How'd I get so lucky?" The Aston Martin driver asked.

"Must be fate," Mark teased.

He adjusted the blanket over Fernando's lap and then turned to a drawer, pulling out a thermometer and some medicine.

"Open up," he said, and Fernando obliged, letting Mark tuck the thermometer under his tongue.

As they waited, Mark took Fernando's hand in his, rubbing small circles into his palm.

They'd been together for over 10 years, and he'd seen Fernando in all sorts of moods, but it was rare to see him this vulnerable. It brought out an instinct in Mark to protect, to nurture something he hadn't known was there until now.