your a driver for ferrari, and it was a few days before a race. in the ferrari building their were cabins for driver that wanted to stay overnight, so during they day they could access the facilities faster and easier.

you were in bed, trying to get some sleep. you never cared about how tired you were the next day, simply because you could push through it. instead, you would go review your past races and take notes, or just go out doing dumb shit. but the next morning, you had a long schedule filled with training, interviews, and lunches and dinners with people.

you were tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep, when you heard your parter, charles

“stop moving so much.”

you hear a kinda raspy voice say. why is he even awake right now?

“i can’t.”

you say, responding to him. he groaned as he got up from his bed, walking over to yours. he layed down in your bed, next to you.

“you do this every single fucking night. just shut up and go to sleep.”

he says tiredly.

“um, excuse me. that was very rude.”

you say in response, messing with him a little.

“shhh. sleepy time.”

he whispers in his still tired tone, teasing you a bit. he put his hand over your eyes, closing them.

“hey-“

you say, before you were cut off by him covering your mouth with his other hand. you try to talk, muffled against his hands.

“no more talking. no moving. sleep.”