jack doohan x female reader, ft one lowkey 18+ joke
"don't you trust me?"
the question burns through jack's chest. the playful smile on your lips tells him that it's all just for fun, but still, there's something stinging about it. he wants to answer with an 'of course', or a 'with my entire life and heart', but he settles for something to match the tone of your voice. "do i have a choice?"
your answer comes in the form of a groan and an eye-roll, settling on the edge of the tub. "just lean back, loverboy."
loverboy. of course. how can he not follow your orders when you talk to him like that?
jack leans back against the wall of the bathtub, tipping his head back to rest his neck against the edge. it's much more uncomfortable than he'd thought, he soon realizes, but he hopes what's about to come is worth the pain.
your best friend has been sick for over a week now, with an annoying fever that seemingly just doesn't want to go down no matter what he tries. when you followed him to the doctors, they said everything looked alright and that he should be getting back to normal in just a few days. you're beginning to believe that that was complete bullshit, though.
you're pretty sure you're wishing for jack's fever to disappear as much as he is himself. not only do you not enjoy seeing him in such a bad state, but he also becomes such a baby when he's sick, as you've recently learned. it's not all that easy to take care of a tall australian manbaby, but someone needs to do it, you suppose. and who better than you?
the other day when you stopped by his apartment to refill his fridge with some necessities and cook him some soup, you just couldn't stop yourself from insulting the greasy hair he was sporting. he answered that he's not got enough energy to wash it properly when he showers, and in a moment of weakness, you found yourself offering to do it for him. so, here you are, showerhead in one hand as the other begins to slowly turn on the water.
you wait for the water to reach a good temperature, not icy but cold enough to hopefully soothe his burning scalp, before shifting to pour the water over his forehead and down over his hair. jack's first reaction is to let out a low hum, eyes fluttering closed at the chillness in comparison to his hot skin.
"you really are an angel, did you know that?" his accent has always had a certain effect on you, though you've always tried to deny it, and your heart skips a beat as he speaks again. "truly someone sent from above."
"shush," you say, shaking your head as you lean over to turn the water off, his hair being completely soaked by now. "just doing another part of my best friend duties."
"just as best-friendly as cooking for me for a week, and tucking me in for my naps, and..." he doesn't need to go on; you know how long the list is.
you reach for his bottle of shampoo – thankfully not a 3-in-1 type with body scrub and car wash included, but still a type that scares you a little – and pour some onto your hands, rubbing them together to spread out the liquid. "i'm just doing what i know you would do for me if i were in your position."
jack's eyes open when you start going through his hair, fingertips working their way across his scalp as you try to reach every inch of hair. he watches you with a thoughtful gaze, studying the concentration on your face intently. suddenly, he's reminded of why he's so goddamn smitten with you in the first place.
you're a total opposite of him – you're so soft. small, too. not just in size, but in personality as well. everything about you is warm and gentle; a huge contrast to his hard, rugged edges.
there's a feeling in his chest again. a tightening, fluttering sensation that feels strangely pleasant. one he's very familiar with by now, one that only appears around you.
it never takes much for your cheeks to grow red around him, and today is no exception. you think you've lasted a long time, though, with the way he's goggling up at you, but it's getting too much. "shut your eyes," you tell him. "you know i can't take it when you stare at me. i can't do my job."
he doesn't answer, and your heart flutters again. your fingers stop moving in his hair.
"i'm going to get shampoo in your eyes, they're going to sting."
"i don't mind."
it isn't until you tug on his hair, enough to go from relaxing to painful (though jack instead finds it quite arousing), that he finally obliges, eyes falling closed and a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "much better."
you begin to wash out the shampoo, and other than the sound of the water now dripping from his hair and onto the floor of the tub again, the room fills up with a hollow silence. he wants to speak up, but can't find any words – which are the right ones when the girl you like takes so much time out of her days to take care of you when you're at your lowest?
jack feels almost strangely... loved. the way that you're doing all of this for him, just because you want to make sure he feels good and clean. in reality, it's such a small gesture, yet it means something.
and a hint of anxiety settles into his chest at the realization that he's actually falling for you.
it's not just the silly little crush that's been brewing inside him for the last twelve months; it's something much more. and much scarier.
"are you kidding me? do you not have any conditioner?" your voice breaks his train of thought and he peeks at you with one eye, still slightly afraid of that whole shampoo-in-his-eyes threat. a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth when he sees the expression on your face, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows raised in pure shock.
"i guess you'll have to go shopping with me to buy a bottle, then."
anything to have a reason to spend more time with you.
So apparently the Franco thing is only for the next 5 races? So they're going to look at it again before Silverstone and either extend him or put Jack back, or maybe put Paul in the car instead of? Alpine you make no sense
