The bug stops here
Dad!Oscar Piastri x Daughter!Reader
Based on this request: Oscar taking care of sick reader
Warnings: Fluff, Mild mention of vomiting (nothing graphic), stomach bug, parent/child care, use of the petnames 'baby', 'bunny', 'daddy' and 'bub'
The day had started off just like any other.
Youâd gotten up early, still in your unicorn pajamas, bouncing around the kitchen asking for banana pancakes while Oscar tried to pour his first cup of coffee without blinking one eye open.
But by mid-morning, something had changed.
You werenât bouncing anymore.
Instead, you were curled up on the couch under your bunny blanket, knees pulled to your chest, face pale and drawn.
Oscar had noticed immediately.
Heâd been setting up his laptop for a quick sim session when you mumbled, âDaddy⊠my tummy hurts.â
His heart dropped.
He was at your side in two seconds, crouching in front of you. âHey, hey. Like a crampy hurt or a twisty hurt?â
You looked at him with glassy eyes and whispered, âItâs all twisty.â
Oscar placed the back of his hand to your forehead. You werenât burning up, but your skin felt clammy and cold.
âAlright,â he said gently. âLetâs get you to the bathroom, just in case.â
You didnât make it.
Halfway down the hall, youâd thrown up all over the floorâand all over his socks.
You burst into tears, horrified.
âIâm sorry! Iâm sorry, Daddy!â
Oscar, to his credit, didnât flinch. He knelt down, pulled you close (despite the mess), and hugged you tightly. âHey. Hey. Itâs okay, baby. Youâre sick, not in trouble.â
You sobbed into his shirt, your small body trembling.
âI got you, alright?â he whispered, brushing hair from your face. âWeâre gonna clean you up, clean this up, and then Iâll tuck you in and take care of you. You donât have to worry about a thing.â
After a bath (complete with your favorite dinosaur towel) and a full sofa-linen swap, you were bundled up in clean PJs, curled into Oscarâs chest with a bucket by your side just in case.
Oscar sat with one arm around you and the other hand scrolling through his phone, looking up what kids with stomach bugs were allowed to eat.
Answer: basically nothing.
Toast. Sips of water. Clear broth if you could keep it down.
Youâd already thrown up twice more, each time with less and less energy. Now you just lay limp in his arms, eyes half-lidded, clutching Maxie the stuffed bunny like your life depended on it.
Oscar pressed a kiss to the top of your head and whispered, âYouâre doing so good, bub. So brave.â
You didnât answer, but you leaned into him.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of cartoons, saltine crackers, and washcloths on your forehead. At one point you fell asleep, head in his lap, and Oscar didnât move for over an hourâafraid to wake you, even as his phone buzzed with messages from his engineer and Lando spamming him with cat memes.
At some point you woke up with tears in your eyes and whispered, âI donât like being sick. I want my tummy back.â
Oscar chuckled softly, brushing your hair back. âI know, bub. Your tummyâs just got a mean little bug in it. But weâll kick it out together, okay?â
You nodded with a small whimper and curled tighter into his hoodie.
By dinnertime, you managed a few tiny sips of water and a quarter piece of dry toast. Oscar fed it to you in bites the size of racecar buttons, praising you after each one like youâd just won a Grand Prix.
âSee?â he smiled. âStrongest little stomach on the grid.â
You gave him a weak grin. âI get the fastest recovery trophy?â
âAbsolutely,â he said, tapping your nose. âAnd Iâll let you hold my real one until you're better.â
Your eyes lit upâjust a littleâand he knew that was worth more than any podium.
That night, he set up a little bed on the couch beside you with extra pillows, bringing in his own blanket so he could stay close.
You stirred in the middle of the night and whispered, âDaddy?â
âRight here,â he said instantly, turning to face you.
You sniffled. âMy tummy still hurts.â
âI know,â he said softly, tucking the blanket higher up your chest. âBut guess what?â
âWhat?â
âYouâve got the best pit crew in the world.â
You yawned. âJust you, DaddyâŠâ
âExactly,â he said with a wink. âAnd thatâs all you need.â
Before you drifted off again, you murmured through half-sleep, âI love you, Daddy.â
Oscar reached out, gently rubbing your back. âI love you too, bunny. Always.â
He stayed awake a little longer, just to make sure you didnât stir again. And when you finally settled into sleep, breathing soft and even, Oscar smiled quietly to himself.
Even if he had to miss every sim session for the next week and live off toast and water with you, he wouldnât trade a second of this time.
His girl was sickâbut she had her dad.
And he wasnât going anywhere
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