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The race weekend is only just over, and already, Charles is fucking exhausted.
It's Sunday night, and he's supposed to be having dinner or something, but he doesn't have enough energy to do anything more than ghost around his room. He doesn't have a reason to be so tired, either: he just is. Some combination of being overworked and overtired and over-everything have led up to this, and now he's sprawled out on the bed, every movement a dull ache, feeling incredibly tired and incredibly alone.
Except, then there's a knock on the door.
Charles drags himself up to answer it, not bothering to check who it might be first. When he pulls the door open after fumbling with the deadbolt for a minute, he is pleasantly surprised: the person in the hallway is none other than his boyfriend, clad in his usual sleep-wear and looking only slightly fuzzy around the edges.
God, he loves Pierre.
There's a worried smile on the other man's face as he gives Charles a small wave. "You didn't come to dinner. I was worried about you, you were not answering your messages."
Charles tries to smile back, to reassure him that he's fine, but it ends up a bit forced. "Ah, well, my phone died, and I haven't checked it since. I'm just a bit tired, is all." He steps aside, leaving the doorway wide open. "Would you-- do you want to come in?"
"If you want me to, of course, mon coeur," Pierre responds, making his way inside. "If you're so tired, why do you not go to sleep?" He looks questioningly at Charles and then at the bed, still pristinely made from earlier (barring a couple of wrinkles from when Charles had flopped down on it).
Maybe Charles blushes a bit, but he'd never admit it. "I don't know, I guess I was... lonely." He pauses, and then: "I missed you," he admits. "Wanted you to come stay with me."
Pierre beams, pulling Charles close into a hug. "All you had to do was ask, amour." He makes his way around to the bed, glancing back at Charles for a moment just before he sits down. "Are you ready to sleep, then, or do you want to do something else?"
Charles is losing his filter by now, what with how tired he is, and he simply says "can I have cuddles?"
Pierre lies back against the pillows and opens his arms wide, a smile on his face. "In that case, I am ready and waiting." Charles doesn't waste a second, climbing into the bed and situating himself next to Pierre as swiftly as possible. The older man holds him close, not tightly enough to exacerbate his pain, but just tight enough that Charles feels safe. He curls into Pierre, tugging at the blankets to pull them up over the two drivers. "Are you comfortable, beau?" Pierre asks, and Charles nods. "Is there anything else that you need? Tell me what's bothering you."
Charles sighs. "I don't know. I am just so tired, and everything hurts, and I'm clingy and sleepy and I just want to be close to you right now, Pear."
Pierre runs a hand through Charles's hair. It's a comforting gesture, and Charles leans into it. "Okay," Pierre says simply, and kisses the top of Charles's head before continuing to card through his hair. "Alright." He thinks for a moment. "Do you want me to talk to you?"
"Mhm," Charles affirms, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening again. Pierre's hand stroking his hair is soporific, and he's indulging in the comfort it brings. "Please."
"Of course, Charlito." Pierre hums for a moment as he decides what to talk about. "Can I talk about you?" He laughs softly, and Charles can feel the sound reverberate through the two of them. He nods again, and Pierre rewards him with another kiss to the top of his head. "Oh, my tired love. Try to sleep, alright? I will keep talking, I promise."
Charles grabs Pierre's free hand, pulling it close to his chest. "Stay? Even when I am asleep. Please, Pierrot," he adds quietly. "I don't want to be by myself."
"I promise," Pierre repeats. "Je promis, amour." He continues stroking Charles's hair, and the younger man's eyes start to slide shut. "You did very well this weekend. I know it must have been difficult with the penalty. Eight points is a very good amount to score, cherie, I'm so proud of you. You deserve to rest now."
Charles yawns, shifting so his head rests on Pierre's chest. "I can hear your heartbeat," he remarks contentedly.
"Can you, now?" Pierre laughs quietly again. "Try to sleep, beau. I'll stay with you until the morning."
Charles finally lets his eyes close for good, holding Pierre's hand tightly and listening to his quiet voice telling him
you've done well this weekend,
you deserve to rest,
sleep well,
je t'aime.
He's still listening when Pierre turns out the light on the bedside table, and when he kisses Charles on the head one more time, and when the two of them fall asleep on each other. Pierre is always there for him, and Charles feels all warm in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about that in the morning.
Pierre is his nightlight, glowing ever, ever on.
God, he loves him.