Archive of Our Own

Max comes home early, cuts his vacation short. He and Daniel had agreed that Daniel didn’t need to put up with a family reunion with the Verstappens; it’s good for their relationship—and also for Max—to keep that separation. His grandmother and his half-siblings have gotten used to Daniel, but his father might never really be okay with it. At least he’s learned that Max will go willfully deaf if he starts saying vile things about Daniel. 

Max’s mom is a different story. He’d wanted her approval of this so badly and her gentleness with Daniel had brought him to tears at least once. But Max doesn’t really care anymore what his father thinks; it’s none of his business who Max sleeps with and while Max might take his advice in contract negotiations, he’s not taking dating advice from a man who can’t keep a wife.

This latest trip had been organized by his sister and Max went to see her kids and his half-siblings. They’re all young still and Max has missed so much of their lives. A few weekends here and there, video chats and birthday presents sent early in the mail so they’ll get there on time. 

When his dad isn’t there, Daniel will come play with Vic’s kids and it makes things easier. Without Danny, it’s harder and he tries to be helpful but he misses the end of the night relief and happiness of crawling into bed with Daniel.

Halfway through the planned trip, he looks at himself in the mirror and realizes he’s tired and sunburnt and just missing his boyfriend. Being Max Verstappen, it’s very easy to fix at least one of those things; buying a ticket for an early flight home is the work of a few minutes and packing only a little bit more.

***

He opens the door to his apartment, wincing as the twisting motion with the doorknob makes his sunburnt hand sting. 

Daniel freezes in the foyer like he’s gotten caught robbing the place, eyes wide. “You’re home.”

“Yes,” Max says cautiously, sorry he startled him. “Surprise?”

“You’re home,” Daniel repeats. He’s wearing one of his own branded hoodies and a ratty pair of shorts and holding a broom, for some reason. Max knew that Daniel would be in and out since he promised to take care of the cats, but it’s unexpectedly domestic to find him here in his sleep clothes. It would be sweeter if Daniel looked less panicked.

“I live here,” Max points out and the absurdity seems to break whatever spell Daniel was under because he smiles at that.

“Sorry, Maxy. Just wasn’t expecting you.” He steps forward as Max kicks his shoes off and kisses him, though the stupid broom is still between them.

Max kisses him and then steps back, one lingering hand on Daniel’s right hip. “Why the broom?”

“Huh? Oh shit, yeah the cats got into the dry food bucket and one of them managed to tip it over. I caught it but not fast enough. They’re probably having a feast right now on the floor.” Daniel laughs, rolling his eyes. “You go unpack and I’ll drag them away from licking the floor so I can clean up.”

“Okay.” He brings his hand up to cup Daniel’s cheek and kiss him again, but Daniel recoils. 

“Max! Your hands. What happened?” Daniel catches his forearm and looks at his red and blistered hand with horror.

“It’s just a sunburn. Gross, but not so bad.” Max shrugs. “I took a nap out on the boat and no one woke me when the sun shifted so my feet and hands didn’t get enough sunscreen.” He doesn’t mention that the rest of his body is slightly pink and itchy too. 

Daniel presses a soft kiss to Max’s palm, the only place that is safe. “Okay, I changed my mind. You go put on aloe vera and I’ll unpack. I don’t think you should move this too much because it looks like it hurts like hell.”

“You don’t have to unpack,” Max says, shaking his head. “Otherwise you’ll spoil the surprise I got you.”

Daniel’s eyes twinkle. “You brought me a present?”

“Yes. A thank you for taking care of the cats and thank you for being so lovely to come home to.” It’s only a little thing, a trinket that made him think of Daniel.

Daniel’s eyes look a little watery and Max can’t help but try to hug him. It’s an awkward one-armed thing with the broom along Daniel’s front, but he does his best. 

Daniel shifts. “Go get the sunburn cream and then we can sit down and you can tell me all about your vacation.” He wiggles the broom. “And let me go take care of the cat food before your babies turn into little balloons.”

Max laughs but lets Daniel go.

***

Daniel finds him in the bedroom with the aloe vera and insists on sitting down with Max to apply it himself, smoothing it over Max’s tender hands carefully; he talks all the while, explaining what Scotty is up to with his vacation and what his sister said her kids are doing in school. 

Max watches Daniel and not his hands, the little crinkle of his eyes and the way the sunlight highlights the couple of grey strands in the curl by his left temple. 

“How were things with your dad?” Daniel doesn’t look up from where he’s working the aloe over Max’s wrist bone. 

“The usual.” Max shrugs imperceptibly. “He does not like me alone with the kids still, but Oma and Vic won’t hear it. I don’t care really, so long as he doesn’t say it in front of the kids.”

Daniel’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. To Daniel, family is family. He grew up with cousins underfoot and he loves his sister’s kids. These days, he loves Vic’s kids too and Max knows that it burns him that he can’t be anywhere near the kids if Max’s dad is there; it’s easier most of the time if Daniel and Jos simply never appear in the same room. 

“You’re good to them,” Daniel says finally, looking up at Max like he thinks Max might cry over his father’s prejudices. Always he worries over Max’s feelings and it’s sweet. 

“Yes,” Max agrees. His father’s thoughts on this are not personal to Max, not really. Practically speaking, Max can see Victoria whenever they want because they are both adults and his father has no say over her children. Oma has taken a remarkably live and let live approach, aided by Daniel’s proper manners when he met her. And Max’s mother thinks Max should be having children of his own actually, no matter who he is dating, because she wants more grandbabies and Victoria has absolutely put her foot down about having more. “Yes, the swimming turtle toys we found were a big hit and they had fun in the sand. I offered that we would take Vic’s kids for her anniversary so that she can have a nice night.”

“You did?”

“If that is okay?” Max looks at Daniel, hoping he’ll say yes. “It is during the summer break, of course. And it will only be a couple of days—“

“Maxy,” Daniel interrupts, laughing. “Of course. We’ll spoil them and then give them back to their parents just as they’re fussing and it will be perfect. You know I love the kids.”

“Of course,” Max agrees. He kisses Daniel briefly. Daniel loves his nephew too much, calls him Max’s mini-me all the time. Max’s mother only encourages him, pulling out photo albums with Max’s baby pictures to compare.

Daniel doesn’t let go of his hand, lifting it up to peer at it now that he’s covered it with the sunburn cream. “I can’t believe how bad this is, Maxy. How did it get this far? I know you can afford sunscreen.” He fixes Max with a stern gaze.

“I put on sunscreen,” Max protests. “I only took a nap and then I woke up sunburnt.”

“Why didn’t anyone wake you? Or do something? It’s not like they don’t know your fair skin burns.” Daniel looks indignant, probably because he would have bodily dragged over an umbrella and then also put sunscreen on Max even while he napped.

“Daniel,” Max says, patient and faintly amused by Daniel’s protectiveness. “Daniel, who? Vic and Oma were with all of the kids in the pool. The kids were not thinking of me, of course. And my dad—“ Max shrugs. “I am an adult.” He has actual children still to raise and he cannot be hovering over Max for such silly things.

Daniel frowns deeply and Max shakes his head. “Go to my backpack,” he insists. “Look in the side pocket for your present.”

Daniel gives him a put upon look because he knows Max is derailing him, but he allows it. “What’d you get me?”

“Nothing,” Max says, leaning back against the pillows to watch Daniel squat and unzip the little pocket. “I just saw a little thing in one of the shops Vic dragged me to and I thought of you.”

“Aw,” Daniel says, smiling crookedly. He tugs out a grey velvet bag, dangles it from his fingertips. “Feels heavy, huh?”

“Open it.”

Daniel sits on the bed, bounces a little as he holds up the bag. “You spoil me.” He pries open the little velvet bag delicately, tipping it out into his palm. He picks it up to examine it, turning it so it catches the light. It’s a heavy silver ring, clean, but nothing particularly ornate about it for the most part. Daniel grins when he spots the little opal lizard inset in the top of the ring though and Max knows he got it right. Daniel slips it on, a perfect fit because Max has gotten to know every inch of Daniel perfectly; he feels lucky to be so comfortable, so connected, with Daniel, to have spent so many hours together that he can know and be known.

Daniel cups his cheek and smiles brilliantly. “Cute, baby. I love it.” He kisses Max and Max kisses him back, careful not to wipe the aloe residue on Daniel. Daniel pulls back, ignoring Max’s dissatisfied noise. “Come on, Maxy. Lunch.”

***

Daniel reapplies the aloe vera at regular intervals all day, though he seems distracted. He keeps moving, nervous, restless. Max has learned by now that he cannot anchor Daniel down, so he must be the safe harbor waiting. He waits, patient. Daniel is still cheerful, so it cannot be so bad, whatever is on his mind. When he is ready to settle, Max can take him to bed and hold him like he’s been longing for all week.

Except when he tells Daniel it is time for bed, Daniel just stares at him, wide-eyed panic writ large on his face.

“Daniel,” Max yawns, standing in the hallway and feeling the jet lag dragging him down. He digs his toes into the carpet to keep from swaying on his feet. “Bed. Come on.”

“I can’t,” Daniel says, looking tortured. “I’m not coming to bed with you.”

“What?” Max feels it like a blow, physically reeling. He can’t breathe. 

“Maxy, Maxy, I can’t.” Daniel bites his lip and studies Max’s face. “I got…” he pulls his hoodie up and Max has a moment to think ‘ oh, no shirt is nice ’ before he sees the bandages covering Daniel’s ribs around his heart. 

He reaches out and then stops short. He can hardly catch his breath as he gasps, “You got hurt?”

Daniel laughs tonelessly. “No, no, I got a big tattoo. And you weren’t meant to be back so early. It hurts like hell if you touch it so I’ve been sleeping with the cats locked out because Sassy landed on me in the middle of the night and I screamed so loud I thought the neighbors might call the cops.” Daniel lowers his shirt and Max frowns because he wants more. He wants.

“You’re really—you’re going to go home? And leave me?”

“Max,” Daniel groans, shaking his head. “Maxy, please stop making that face for the love of god, I can’t take it. I love you and I will love you even from two floors away and it’s only for a little while, really. I just—come on, have you ever shared a bed with me and not had your arm resting on my ribs?”

“No,” Max says sulkily. He gets the point. “Maybe. Maybe just—you can stay in the guest room.” Max came home and it was supposed to fix this, supposed to make him stop missing Daniel.

Daniel’s shoulders drop. “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon I could. We can fall asleep on FaceTime like we would have if you’d stayed to the end of your vacation.”

And Max can’t stay mad about that, not when Daniel’s trying to be sweet. “Yes, I would like that.”

Daniel smiles at him, eyes crinkling. “Okay. I’ll tuck you in and then you can talk to me on the phone while I get ready for bed.”

Max feels like his heart is bruised, but he nods. He’s not a child, not a child, not a child. Daniel doesn’t need to feel bad about this, of course, and Max can be brave for a few nights. He still knows how to sleep alone; he’s done it for the past two weeks, with oceans and hours between them.

It’s more than a few nights, the days stretching taut as thread between them. Daniel won’t even tell him what the stupid tattoo is and Max feels somewhat inclined to hate it on principle. Still, Daniel stays with him, their lives so intertwined by now that it’s not even inconvenient to not go back to his own place.

Their habits are familiar now, worn smooth like old cobblestone roads. Daniel wakes first and Max wakes up to the sound of him singing in the shower. Later, Max finds the ibuprofen swollen and melting on the counter, because Daniel takes too hot showers and forgets to turn on the vent and the whole bathroom becomes like a sauna. There are two pills, he thinks, smearing like lipstick when he wipes them off the counter. He gets two more from the bottle in the cabinet and goes to find Daniel.

Daniel is eating breakfast, looking surprised and then delighted when Max walks in in just his underwear. 

“You forgot these on the counter,” Max says, dropping the pills next to Daniel’s cup of water and pressing a kiss to the top of Daniel’s damp head. 

Daniel grabs him, one strong arm around his hips and presses a kiss to his ribs. “Thanks, baby.”

“It is still hurting?” Max asks carefully. 

“Not as much.” Daniel shrugs and pats Max’s hip before he lets go and Max feels the cold air rush between them again. “But I’m gonna go for a run so I wanted to make sure it didn’t slow me down.”

“Ah. You want company?”

“Nah. You’ve got that call with your mom anyway and I was gonna keep this a casual jog. Don’t think I could keep up with your pace right now,” Daniel laughs. He leans his head back to tap against Max’s arm where he’s leaning on the chair. “Besides, you should let this sunburn heal before you go chasing another one.”

Max rolls his eyes. The sunburn is now mostly peeling skin, nothing worse. It doesn’t look nice, but Max isn’t worrying about it; it’s not his first sunburn and it won’t be his last. 

“Yes, fine. Don’t run too long. You know my mom will want to see your face.”

Daniel softens, his whole body speaking volumes. Daniel won’t say it, but he’s hurt to not be included in Max’s fucked up family, like that says anything about Daniel instead of about Max. Max can’t give Daniel what Daniel gives to him, can’t reciprocate what Grace and Joe have done for them both, but at least his mom can give Daniel this. 

Daniel’s eyes twinkle as he says, “Yeah, well, we knew your mum was the one you inherited your good taste from. Can’t resist my handsome face.”

Max shoves him, friendly and exasperated and familiar. “Shut up.”

Daniel laughs and Max leaves him there at the table even though he wants to drag Daniel with him, to put up with the too hot shower and the two of them clumsily taking turns to wash their hair in the spray. 

“Hey,” Daniel says, quietly interrupting. He’s got a blanket around his shoulders like a cape, leaning on the wall by the hallway.

Max pauses the documentary he’s watching to smile at Daniel. “Hey. Good nap?”

Daniel shrugs. “Still sleepy.”

Max pats his thigh. “C’mere then.” Daniel usually loves this, cuddling up to Max so Max can gently pet his curls. “Unless. Will it hurt you?”

Daniel hasn’t done this since Max has been home and it’s a sudden relief when Daniel’s face softens into a lovely smile. “Nah. I should be ok.”

He shuffles over, still bundled up and sits on the other half of the sectional. Max loves his big couch, loves that they can both stretch out on it and yet still be comfortably close.

Daniel lies down slowly, still babying his side. Max lifts his hands up so Daniel can rest his head in his lap. 

“Whatcha watching?” Daniel mumbles, cheekbone pressed into Max’s thigh. This can’t be great for Daniel’s neck, but Max won’t say it; Daniel’s head is heavy, reshaping Max’s muscles under him, making Max’s body comfortable for him.

“Nature documentary.” Max carefully rests his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, petting the fuzzy blanket firmly enough that Daniel can feel it. He clicks the play button again, watches the screen shift to show a beautiful wing flicker across the screen. “About birds.”

Daniel hums in agreement, blinking so slowly that Max thinks he’s probably still half asleep. He might even fall asleep again here, watching the screen with a glazed look. 

Max is getting distracted from the documentary, too busy watching the reflections of the TV colors in Daniel’s dark eyes. He glances up at the screen, watches the flock of birds framed against the open sky. Max likes nature documentaries, likes the logical and ordered way the narrators explain things, likes the baby animals and the sweeping music that catches his heart when some animal triumphs. Birds are usually not so much his thing, compared to big cats or bears, but the narrator of this documentary is Australian; Max is not too proud to admit that after years of listening to Daniel, his heart warms at the sound of an Australian accent.

Impulsively, Max gently strokes the side of Daniel’s sleepy face, watching Daniel scrunch up his nose when Max passes over the ticklish part of his temple. “It’s you,” he says, teasing.

“What’s me?” Daniel’s voice is muffled by blankets he’s pulled up to his mouth and Max doesn’t know how he got stuck with a boyfriend who can’t stand a bit of cold weather. Thank god they live in Monaco and not any further north. Normally, Daniel’s shivering would be quickly fixed with a cuddle, but Daniel’s been so distant that Max feels a little spiteful part of himself hoping Daniel’s feet are cold. Daniel tilts his head back, rolling until Max’s thigh is right under his neck. “Maxy?”

“Oh. The bird,” Max says, rewinding until he gets back to the bird picking up a trinket. It is a crow or something, a clever tilt to its head as it sits on a fence with something faintly glittery in its beak. “See?”

“I…steal shiny rocks?” Daniel asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” Max prods Daniel’s cheek with his forefinger, laughing. “Danny, you have not paid any attention. The birds are not stealing shiny things. They are curious about new things. See, the researchers are looking at what this kind of bird selects in the wild and also around people. They have learned that food wrappers are shiny and so now this group finds shiny things.”

“I’m still not sure how that’s me.” Daniel yawns, pushing his face into Max’s thigh.

“You like new things,” Max explains. “Seeing new things and learning from new people.” On screen a baby crow hops closer to an adult, clumsily mimicking it. Max smiles, amused.

“Okay, that’s us,” Daniel says, giggling sleepily. 

“Yeah? I am the little one with the bad hair?” Max snorts. Perhaps when they met, before Max discovered the power of hair products. 

“No.” The big crow bends its head to nudge the little one with its beak. “See? You’re the bossy one and I’m the one trying to eat rocks.”

“Silly,” Max says fondly, bending awkwardly to kiss Daniel’s curls. 

“Yeah, like that,” Daniel agrees, pointing lazily at the birds.

“Does that mean I’m allowed back in the ‘nest’ tonight?” Max asks. He’s pushing, he knows he’s pushing, but he doesn’t know how to let this be.

“Ah, not tonight, Maxy.” Daniel grimaces. “A few more days, probably. I know it sucks.”

“Yes,” Max agrees bluntly. “Next time you are going to get a tattoo, you should tell me so I can go buy some kind of new bed where I won’t hurt you in the night but also I am not far away. If this keeps up, I’m dragging a sleeping bag into the guest bedroom.”

Daniel snorts. “Next time I’ll take you with me and you can hold my hand while they do it. Rib tattoos are the worst honestly; worth it, but the sting lingers so much more.”

Max imagines watching someone make Daniel bleed and feels vaguely nauseous about it all. He loves Daniel’s tattoos, loves getting his mouth on them and leaving his own marks, but the process is a little unnerving. 

“Or not,” Daniel says dryly, eyes fixed on Max’s face. “Max. Maximum Verstappen.” He taps Max’s face. 

“What?”

“You don’t have to watch, baby, that’s fine.”

Max swallows. He thinks about it and Daniel gives him that minute. “I think I would not like to see you in pain.” He never has and never will.

Daniel’s eyes go all fond and he tugs on Max’s t-shirt to pull him down for a lazy kiss. “That’s fine. Want me to go back to my place until this is all healed up?”

“No.” Max knows that’s not the right answer. “No, you shouldn’t leave. I—I want you here. It is hard to know you’re in pain, just like when you scraped up your knees on the dirt bikes. But it makes—“ Max trails off, clenching his hands. “My hands itch to be doing something.”

It’s so complicated, wanting control of a situation, wanting Daniel not to hurt, wanting to be trusted or needed, wanting to keep their routines because that’s how Max knows they’re okay.

There’s an irrational anger in him about not doing anything, something that bites at him like a mosquito until he’s half-mad and ready to run through a wall. He wonders sometimes, even if Daniel will never see it, if this is what his father has given him; quick hands, itching and aching with restless irritation. It’s never been so bad, but then Daniel has never stopped Max from taking care of him. Even when he broke his hand, he tolerated Max babying him a little, warming a heat pack when his hand ached and rubbing lotion into the scar with fervent dedication every night they were together. 

But now, Max can do nothing and the helplessness makes him want to break something, to crack glass or snap wood. He wants satisfaction from doing something, wants to feel something real.

“Oh, Max,” Daniel says, almost pitying.

Max keeps his hands so still and gentle they ache from the force of it and he kisses Daniel so that Daniel will stop looking at him with that faintly worried frown.

“You must be warm,” Max says, watching Daniel stretch on the balcony. It’s an unusually sunny day, but—more to the point—Daniel just did an entire workout while bundled up.

“Yeah,” Daniel shrugs, still breathing hard as he leans forward and wriggles gently to loosen up his back. “It’s fine.”

“You could take off your sweatshirt,” Max suggests, the doorframe digging into the heel of his hand where he’s leaning on it. 

Daniel grins at him, upside down from under his own arm. “You only love me for my body.”

Max makes an exasperated face at him, shakes his head. “I read it is bad to sweat on a new tattoo.”

“It’s been long enough.” Daniel twists slowly, a tangle of lanky limbs. “And I’ll shower after this and put a new bandage on.”

Max shrugs and leaves Daniel to his stupid cooldown.

He can’t drop it though, something boneheaded in his DNA that makes him keep prodding at Daniel. 

Daniel still won’t sleep in the bed with him, making regretful excuses. 

“I have done research,” Max says one night. Google counts, probably. “It can’t still hurt unless something is wrong. So you are just not wanting to—” be near? love me?

“It’s not that it hurts,” Daniel says evasively. “But it’s still healing. I want it to heal perfectly.”

“But it is good also to give it air. I read this. So you can take off the bandage.”

“I do,” Daniel promises, frowning. “But only when I’m sleeping alone.”

“You could take it off. I promise I will not touch.” He’ll want to claw his own skin off probably, looking and not touching, but right now he wants to scoop out the part of his brain that is shaking this idea in its feral little teeth.

“It’s gross,” Daniel protests. “I don’t want you to see it until it’s healed.”

“You can see my skin peeling off but I can’t see yours?” This is rapidly turning into a stupid argument but Max can’t seem to hit the brakes. 

“That’s different. You can’t see this until it looks good. What if you see it when it’s bloody and peeling and then you hate it forever?” There’s a joking tone to his voice, but his eyes are too serious.

“Daniel,” Max says with a honed edge of exasperation. “Daniel, who gives a fuck? It is only skin and ink. There is no secret.”

And Daniel pauses and Max sees the hesitation and he can’t help the way his heart clenches.

“Unless.”

“It’s not a secret,” Daniel says hastily. “It’s not, Max; I really want to show you. But only when I’m ready.”

And Max can’t argue that without being an asshole so he reluctantly drops it.

It helps that Daniel keeps wearing Max’s clothing, sweatpants that are too large on his thighs and soft Red Bull t-shirts from god knows when. 

It does not help that Daniel locks the bathroom door. 

Perhaps it is gross that they got in the habit of leaving it ajar for anything short of the wrath of a stomach flu, but the cats complain about locked doors and they used to just join each other in the shower whenever the mood struck them. Max feels a little like the cats, ready to wail miserably outside until the door is unlocked and he can satisfy his curiosity.

All he has is Daniel singing off key, the sound drifting through to the bedroom where Max is waiting impatiently.

He wakes up cold and aching, feeling his own skin in a way he is pretty sure he shouldn’t be able to. He’s starting to resent Daniel’s ribs in a way he thinks is probably unhealthy; he can almost visualize the cushion of space between them, a gap he can’t close because he doesn’t want to hurt Daniel. 

He’s awake too early, the sun barely rising and Daniel still asleep in the guest bedroom. The cats bump their heads into his shins as he stands, twining around his ankles smoothly. He drops a hand to each of them in turn, lets them rub their mouths all over his knuckles. 

He feeds them before he leaves, locking the door on his aching heart and running away. His shoes pound the pavement in steady beats, Air Pods still tucked in his pocket so he hears the city waking up around him. It’s hard to feel the heartache when his lungs are straining for air, a different soreness filling him. It will be time soon to go to the factory, to start a new season; this is just maintenance, little adjustments and tuning. He’s always liked the idea of being a machine, of smooth parts that click into place, the clever hands shaping his perfection. He told GP once about it, both of them drunk as hell, and GP had laughed and kissed the side of his head; he’d filled a mechanic’s toolbox with some of Max’s favorite things for his birthday that year, written a sweet note about doing his job to keep Max in mint condition. 

It’s off the track that things are harder, as it always has been. Max started too far back in this kind of race and though he’s made up positions, a trophy is out of the question. He’s still not always a person, or not a very good imitation of one.

Max stares down the city streets, the happy people walking home too late and the serious people going to work too early. He breathes out hard. It’s a new morning, sun rising, clouds fading into the horizon. He left his heart at home and he’s trampled his anger into these streets until there’s nothing but shards of it left. It’s time to go home, to his love, to his life, to the new day.

He slips in the door quietly, just in case Daniel is still sleeping. The noise from the kitchen quickly puts that notion to bed. Daniel is singing, some pop song Max only vaguely recognizes; he’s not a teenaged girl and Daniel’s accuracy in both lyrics and tune are rather loose. It’s familiar though, something that makes Max smile because it means that Daniel is comfortable here. 

Max kicks off his shoes and pets Jimmy as he heads to the kitchen. Daniel’s doing something at the far counter, a few of the cupboards open in a way that suggests that Daniel’s in the middle of some cooking project. Max hopes, vaguely, that this is a French toast kind of morning.

Max slips his hands under Daniel’s sweatshirt, hums happily into Daniel’s shoulder when he feels the soft, warm skin of Daniel’s waist. Something clatters loudly on the counter and Daniel jumps.

Max freezes, looks over Daniel’s shoulder to the plate and the knife and the mess of jam on the counter.

“Sorry.”

Daniel’s hands are on his wrists, he realizes, holding him still. “It’s fine,” Daniel says and it isn’t. 

Max takes a step back, feels the way Daniel releases him. “Sorry,” he says again, like a fucking idiot. “I’m—I’m going to go shower.”

“Max,” Daniel says, turning to him. “It’s okay.” He’s being kind to Max, too kind, and Max feels it burn like acid in his throat. He ducks his head jerkily and practically throws himself towards a shower; for once he turns the shower too hot, lets it scald his skin until he can’t feel Daniel’s fingers gripping his wrists anymore.

They live in a sort of fractured peace together. Max is being too careful and Daniel is being too quiet and the only people satisfied are the cats. When they go out to see their friends, they don’t go together.

It’s the suitcase open in the living room that breaks the peace. Sassy is sitting in it, licking her hind paws indelicately and ignoring Max. It’s a reminder that the outside world awaits, that Daniel will go on his vacation, and then at some point Max will have to leave to train more properly because the season break only lasts so long. This has been the last lull, a shared space of quietude before life whirls back into motion. 

Max drops his shoes by the door and goes to find Daniel in the spare room. He’s greeted by Daniel sitting lazily on the bed, surrounded by piles of shirts; he never can decide what to pack until the last minute and then he just shoves handfuls of clothes into his bag like he no one ever taught him to fold them.

Daniel looks up from where he was dicking around on his phone and frowns quizzically at him. “Max?”

“You leave soon,” Max says abruptly, more passive aggressive than he means to be. “Are you going to go to Colorado and then text me that you’re breaking up with me?” He doesn’t think that, actually. It’s more likely that Daniel will go to the mountains and have some profound revelation about love and then come home and really kindly and gently try to break up with Max face to face.

“What?” Daniel looks shocked. “Max—I’m not—I’m just going on a little trip. Why would you even say that?”

Max shakes his head, clenches his fists until his blunt fingernails are digging into his palm. “Nothing, sorry. I just…we’ve been apart. I do not like this, you know, and now you’re going on a trip and it just felt like maybe you’d keep getting further away. Sorry, it’s stupid.” He turns, changes the subject as hard and fast as he can. He picks up a cashmere scarf that’s draped over the dresser near him. “You should pack this, Daniel. You get so cold.” He grabs also a nice sweater, maroon and white, and folds it into a little pile.

“Yeah, okay,” Daniel agrees softly. He stands, slips his phone in his pocket and picks up a spare t-shirt from the pile next to his hip. “This is just a week trip. I’ll be back soon enough, Max. Unless you don’t want me to go. I could call Dax and cancel.”

“No. No, that would be rude,” Max says, swallowing down his heart until his face is as clear and blank as glass. “I am not a child, Daniel,” he adds gruffly. “I will be fine. Now, please, keep checking your suitcase because Sassy will try to get in between layers of clothes and you cannot take her to Colorado.”

“Yeah, I saw her hopping in when I opened it. You’re really sure you’re okay?” Daniel moves closer, watches him with those gentle eyes.

“Yes. I’m just tired today,” Max lies. “And I’m going to miss you while you’re gone. But you are right; it’s only a week.” Max offers him the clothes as Daniel stands in front of him, but Daniel doesn’t take them. 

Instead, Daniel steps to him, grabs the brim of his cap and flicks it off with the ease of practice so he can lean in and kiss Max. Max tilts his head, both of their hands full with stupid clothes and things, wishing he could somehow crawl into Daniel’s suitcase too; he would be quiet and still for Daniel, anything so that his heart didn’t ache like this at the thought of Daniel being gone.

Daniel stays there, his body an arc over Max, until they both run out of breath.

Daniel presses Max’s cap back onto his head, backwards so he looks like an asshole, and grins at him. “There. That’s my Maxy.” He takes the sweater and scarf from Max’s unresisting hands, lets both of them fall out of their folds into his characteristic disarray.

He leaves Max there, his face unshaded from the cold spring sun pouring through the windows; it’s as good a reason as any for why Max’s eyes are watering.

Daniel leaves tomorrow and Max has mostly worked things out in his head; he’s also carefully scheduled his calendar so he’s never alone for the next week, sim racing and padel and drinks with friends. Max drags himself out of bed to make breakfast, chewing resentfully on a protein bar when he realizes the food delivery hasn’t come yet. There’s stuff for breakfast, but nothing easy or fast and Max isn’t going to wake Daniel up to demand a nice egg scramble. 

Probably he should edit the grocery order anyway, since there will only be one person here for the week and there’s no sense in waste. He takes a glass of water to wash down the dry, bitter bar and sits out on the balcony. It’s early still, but Max doesn’t mind the chill in the air. Jimmy wanders out to find him, chirping for attention. Max scratches his little head and watches Jimmy sniff up and down the balcony like he’s never seen it before. Everything is new to a cat, every stone and every bit of plastic and every sock left on the floor.

It reminds Max that he needs to pilfer Daniel’s wardrobe. First, he wants to steal one of Daniel’s hoodies to sulk around the house in. He’s learned that a good sulk can help with almost anything, big or small, and he suspects he’ll need to devote at least one day to a truly thorough sulk. Secondly, the cats like sleeping on Daniel’s stuff. Max thinks maybe it’s how much Daniel sweats and how it smells like him, but they love napping on his clothes and Max wants them to be happy. 

So, first to rummage in Daniel’s suitcase for a sweatshirt and second to rummage in the laundry hamper.

It’s not a secret, not really, so Max walks boldly into the guest room where Daniel has been packing. It looks, predictably, like a flood washed his entire closet into the room and Daniel’s sitting in the middle, looking mildly panicked.

His suitcase is nowhere in sight, presumably somewhere under the mountains of unpacked shirts. Seriously, how many silk shirts could one man need even when ‘glamping’ in Colorado?

“Daniel,” Max says, fondly exasperated. “Always you leave your packing to the last minute. Where is your suitcase?” He turns to go look under the nearest pile of clothes. 

“I cancelled my flight,” Daniel says, sounding shocked at himself. 

Max turns, makes an inarticulate questioning noise.

Daniel looks up, brow furrowed. “I mean, I rescheduled. I wanted a few more days.” He stands from the floor, worrying at the hem of his sweatshirt.

“What?” They may be excessively sappy with each other most of the time, but they still lead their own lives. They take trips alone sometimes and Daniel has been planning this for ages. “Won’t you miss out?”

“No,” Daniel shifts from foot to foot, lightly bouncing. “No, I’ll just meet them up at the cabin later. It’s fine.”

“You are not fine,” Max points out. Daniel is twitching, looking like a bird with something stuck to its feathers. “What is wrong?”

“I just…I’m sorry, Max.” Daniel bites his lip, dark eyes full of worry. “Listen, you know I’m bad at thinking shit through and I just—” he clutches his curls and then gesticulates broadly. Max can’t do anything but watch him, wondering what Daniel could have possibly done that is making him so anxious. “I got it in my head that it had to be perfect. I wanted to show you at the perfect time. I’m sorry, baby, I haven’t—I haven’t been very nice, Max.”

“I don’t—“ Max shakes his head, frowns at Daniel. This is so much handwringing, for nothing. Daniel is mostly as nice as a person could be and Max is sufficiently distanced from his outburst about this that he’s almost embarrassed at how he reacted. Of course Daniel is not leaving and of course Daniel is allowed space and of course Daniel will explain when he is ready. “Why do you look like you’re about to pull all your hair out?”

“I have…look, I just have to show you, okay?” 

Daniel wrestles his hoodie up and over his head, half bent over to pull some underlayer off with it. Daniel flings it to the side and looks at him with such naked worry that Max almost feels it like a slap to the face. 

He turns, lifting his arm a little so that Max can see the way the colorful stripes wrap around Daniel’s ribs. There’s one large patch and then a few stray lines crossing up Daniel’s pec towards his armpit. He recognizes the tulip fields easily, iconic and bright even in this abstract form; the pink and green stand out in such sharp contrast to Daniel’s tan skin and the black ink of the other tattoos near it.

“You got—is it for me? The tulips?” It feels arrogant to voice it, but Daniel nods immediately.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s for us,” Daniel says softly.

Max feels hot, flushed, dizzy. He can’t seem to move, to think. He reaches out halfway and then stops, because he shouldn’t touch it, not when Daniel has barely wanted to show it to him. Does he regret it already? “What if…god, Daniel, always this will be there?”

Daniel nods again, reaching out to take Max’s hand where it’s wavering. “Max, always. No matter what.”

Max reels at the thought. Yes, he had hoped, maybe, for always. They both know it doesn’t always work out that way and they haven’t put too fine a point on it. But this is something else. “Even.” He stops, unwilling to voice the idea of Daniel leaving him again. “You won’t regret this?” It feels like he’s asking a different question, his hand shaking in Daniel’s grasp.

“No,” Daniel says firmly. “No, Maxy, I won’t. My tattoos are about the memories I’m keeping. I’m keeping this always,” he explains, drawing Max’s hand closer to his body. “My best friend, holding me so I can sleep and be warm and safe and happy. My best friend loving me.” He places Max’s hand on his warm skin and Max gasps because his handprint matches where the tulip lines are marked, like they’re his fingerprints on Daniel. He looks at Daniel, mouth open and Daniel just leans in to kiss him softly. “This is where you put your hand when we’re sleeping. When you let me lie on your arm even though it can’t be comfortable and you wrap your arm around me to keep us close and I can feel my heartbeat in your palm,” Daniel murmurs into the scant space between them. “I hope you’re not mad,” he adds, mouth twisting faintly. Max flexes his hand, presses the hollow of his palm to the little rounded patch of clear skin in the middle of the tattoo. 

“I’m not mad,” Max assures him. He can’t take his hand off of Daniel though, staring at it like it’s on fire. “Can we go to bed now? I missed you,” he adds shyly, gratified when Daniel melts with relief.

Max gets to take Daniel by the hand, lead him out of the insane whirlpool of clothes and back to the bedroom they’re supposed to share. Daniel doesn’t protest when Max holds his hand even as they both slide under the covers. Despite the bright day filling the room, pulling the covers up to their shoulders makes it feel like they’re in a space apart from the real world.

“Can you—“ Daniel is uncharacteristically quiet. “Can you hold me?”

“Yes,” Max says emphatically, moving them both so he can wrap himself around Daniel. His bare arms against Daniel’s skin feel like they’re almost painfully sensitive. Daniel turns slowly, pulls Max around him until he’s the little spoon. It feels right, like Max can breath again, like the sun dawned just for them today.

He closes his eyes, tries to breathe normally. There’s a wildfire hunger in him, raging out of control in his chest. He can feel Daniel’s skin, his own t-shirt suddenly an impediment between the two of them.

Max pushes his palm down, forcing Daniel towards him until they’re tucked into each other perfectly. He kisses the nape of Daniel’s neck and shifts up a little so he can see Daniel’s small smile.

“How did you—?” Max trails off, tapping his fingers over the tattoo. It matches so perfectly.

Daniel opens his eyes from where they had been blissfully closed. “You hugged me, a while back. Your hands were wet from something in the kitchen and you left a handprint on my t-shirt. I grabbed a sharpie and just traced it before it dried.” Daniel exhales slowly, sounding like he’s half-asleep in Max’s arms already. “It was just a spur of the moment thing, a half-baked idea for a limited merch run, but then I was thinking about when I broke my hand.” He wiggles his hand, high enough that Max can see it over his shoulder, and Max slides his free arm up to catch it. The scar is faded now, flat and clean and hard to see unless Daniel’s in the sun. 

“And I signed your cast?”

“Yeah.” Daniel flexes his fingers lightly, twisting his wrist so he can hold Max’s hand and pull it close; Max feels like a blanket wrapped around Daniel, the two of them pressed so tightly together. “And I was thinking about how shit I felt and how much it helped to have your sketch on my arm.”

Max traces the line of the scar with his thumb, familiar with the straight line of it even without being able to see or feel it clearly anymore. He’d drawn a stupid sketch back then, the lines on Daniel’s cast almost childishly possessive. But Daniel wants to be possessed, apparently, to be kept; he’s all but engraved Max’s claim on his heart. Max can’t quite grasp the enormity of it, the weight of it all. It feels like hitting a corner too tightly, the pull of gravity on him like some divine hand pressing him back to earth. Daniel put Max’s love on his skin, over his heart. Forever.

“Where’d you go?” Daniel asks gently, tracing the lines of Max’s bones from fingertip to wrist over and over.

“Just thinking about how serious this is.” Max presses a brief kiss to Daniel’s bare shoulder, digs his fingertips into Daniel’s ribs just to feel him squirm for a moment. “Did you—was this just because you missed me?”

Daniel laughs and Max wants to squeeze him tighter like he can grasp that sound in his hands. “No. No, it’s not like you left for vacation and then I suddenly decided to permanently ink your handprint on myself. I missed you, yes.” He cranes his neck back, grinning broadly. “But that meant I ordered those green curry noodles you like from the place down the street, instead of my pad Thai, not that I completely lost my mind.”

Max is oddly touched at the idea that Daniel was eating Max’s favorites just to feel closer. “So this was planned?”

“Yeah. Yeah, baby, you can ask Seb and Jenson if you want proof. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. But you’re right. It’s not a proposal or anything, but it is serious. I did it on purpose. After carefully thinking about it.” Max can feel his steady heartbeat, his body proclaiming honesty and certainty without a word. He’s so serious sometimes, in the middle of his jokes and laughter, something deep and vulnerable shining through. 

Max thinks about it all for a second and then says, “Yes.”

When he doesn’t follow that up, Daniel asks, “Yes, what?”

“When it is a proposal, yes. In case—if you ever want,” Max stumbles awkwardly, hiding his face in the nape of Daniel’s neck. 

“If I—oh, Maxy, you mean yes . If I want,” he says and Max can hear him rolling his eyes. “I want. Obviously, I want, Max. But I’m gonna do that right. You’ll know when I ask you.”

Max nods, pushing his face into Daniel’s warm skin.

Daniel breathes slowly for a moment. “So this isn’t too much?” Daniel asks, still and quiet.

“I want to bite you,” Max confesses abruptly, provoking an unexpected giggle from Daniel.

“What?”

“I want to bite you sometimes,” Max continues. “Bite you and sink my teeth in and just keep you. I want to eat you whole when you say sweet things. I don’t—“ he pauses to delicately graze his teeth along the curve of Daniel’s neck. Daniel shivers, always unresisting when Max leaves a faint mark. “But I want to. Is that too much?”

“Mmmm, no.” Daniel tilts his head back to grin. “Gonna eat me up?”

Max smiles back at him, feeling like he’s won a championship again, the pure joy and triumph propelling him forward. “You put my handprint on you,” he says, like they both can’t feel where Max’s hand is cradling Daniel’s heart. “I think maybe you cannot complain too much when I leave a hickey because you literally tattooed my hand on you.”

“I like your hands,” Daniel murmurs, pretending it’s a secret, like he doesn’t beg for Max’s hands on him with every inch of his being.

“Yeah?” Max teases him, runs his thumb over the curve of Daniel’s pec and watches Daniel shiver with delight. It’s all too much to ask, really, after so long apart. Max carefully disentangles himself from Daniel’s weight so he can push Daniel flat on his back; he kneels over him, cups his face in both hands to kiss him. 

Daniel’s hands grab his hips, pulling him closer, closer. They’re kissing when Daniel starts unsubtly rucking Max’s shirt up, clever hands skating up Max’s back to pull his t-shirt over his head; they only separate for a minute and then Max is on him again, hungry for Daniel’s touch.

Daniel’s already breathing hard and Max can’t help the thread of satisfaction running through his arousal. He did that .

He places his hand over the tattoo reverently, holds Daniel still so he can kiss him slowly. He’s a high performance athlete, he thinks with an internal giggle, capable of bracing himself over Daniel for hours; he can stay and get lost in Daniel’s soft eyes for as long as he likes.

Daniel makes a beautiful, needy noise when Max holds him down to suck a line of hickeys from the crook of his neck to the edge of the tulip fields. Max watches Daniel’s skin bloom red next to the pink abstract flowers and he thinks distantly that he will never forget this snapshot as long as he lives.

They’re both hard, the thin shorts between them doing little to disguise how much they both want this. Max can feel the tacky drag of Daniel’s wet shorts on his hip and his own cock is straining at the fabric of his shorts.

“You should fuck me,” Daniel says, eyes so dark and wide. He takes a little breath, licks his lips absentmindedly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, you want me?” Max doesn’t mean it quite like it sounds; he’s offering himself to Daniel, rather than asking for reassurance. 

“I was thinking of you this morning. In the shower, I touched myself,” Daniel confesses. He pulls Max into a kiss, careful hands on Max’s face. “Didn’t go anywhere with it, but I was thinking of you, the way you fuck me so well.”

He reaches between them, shoves at the waistband of Max’s shorts as Max does the same for him, trying to wrestle Daniel’s shorts down over the curve of his ass.

They’re both only marginally successful and the attempt ends in giggles rather than any useful effect. Instead, Max shuffles back on his knees to yank off his shorts and kick them to the side. Daniel lifts his hips and shimmies out of his own clothes, nodding at the nightstand. “Hey, grab the lube. Want you to open me up.”

Max stretches over the edge of the bed, fumbles in the drawer for the lube. Thankfully he finds one of the normal ones, not the goofy ones Daniel had grabbed as a laugh for Christmas; no man could possibly be expected to stay hard while looking at the label of ‘Spice Me Up Gingerbread’ and Max has done his level best to shove the handful of silly tubes under other things in the hopes that Daniel will forget about them.

He holds it up to show Daniel and Daniel grins. “Come on then!”

Daniel lifts his own legs up, splays himself out for Max with the kind of shameless vulnerability he’s always offered Max. It comes more easily to him, sure, but that’s never made it less of a gift. Max rewards Daniel, brave Daniel, with lube-slick fingers rubbing slowly at his rim and a series of soft kisses to the hinge of Daniel’s jaw. Daniel relaxes around his fingers slowly, both of them a little out of practice after the last few weeks. 

Max watches Daniel’s face carefully, watches the slight tightness around his eyes melts as Max moves slowly and carefully. He ducks his head down to press a teasing kiss to Daniel’s nipple, grins when Daniel makes a desperate noise and twitches around his fingers.

“Maxy! Come on.” Daniel lets go of one thigh he’s holding wide open so he can fumble between them for Max’s wrist. “I want you to fuck me, baby, please.”

“Not yet,” Max says, feeling Daniel tighten on his fingers as he curls up to look at Max with those beautiful dark eyes; Max crooks his fingers just right and Daniel gasps out a moan, throwing his head back to the pillows. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” Daniel insists. “Please, baby, please.” He holds his legs wide for Max, hips almost straining as he futilely shifts to try and coax Max further into him. “I need you, Max.”

Max shakes his head and adds another finger, but that only makes Daniel chant his name with something approaching desperation. Max is only so strong and his cock throbs between his legs every time Daniel begs. 

Putting on a condom is a tricky proposition, but Max doesn’t know what the plan is for the rest of the day and it’s less of a mess this way. Still, he has to pause for a moment, gripping his cock like some overeager teenager; Daniel is spread before him like a tapestry, living art under his hands. 

He thumbs at Daniel’s hole, at the slick smears around it. Daniel makes a choked noise as his hole twitches. Max lines himself up and fucks in slowly, watching Daniel’s abs ripple with the effort of staying still and relaxed for Max. Max pets Daniel’s skin soothingly, the fine sheen of sweat making him glisten in the sunlight. 

It’s overwhelming sometimes, to hold Daniel like this. He’s strong enough to lift Daniel’s hips off the bed and settle them into his lap, but Daniel’s legs around his waist, forcing him all the way in, make him feel almost weak at the knees.

“‘s good,” Daniel mumbles, one hand reaching up to grab Max by the neck and pull him close. “Maxy,” he says, so soft that Max almost misses it. “Perfect, baby. Need you.”

Max braces himself and slowly starts moving. He’s close already, like a few weeks without Daniel in his bed have robbed him of all immunity to Daniel’s charms. The only comfort is that Daniel seems equally consumed by this, if the fact that he’s losing his ability to make full sentences is any indication.

Daniel keeps one hand on Max and one hand braced up over his head so he can meet the force of Max’s thrusts. Max matches his hand to the handprint again, gripping hard enough that his hand won’t slide off from the sweat. It takes some balance and coordination, but he manages to get his other hand on Daniel’s cock, letting the force of his thrusts fuck Daniel into his hand.

Mine he thinks, fucking into the hot clutch of Daniel’s hole desperately. Daniel’s heels dig into his lower back, urging him onwards, and Max wants time to stop here; he can feel his orgasm approaching and he wants to hold this sharp pleasure as long as he can bear it.

Daniel takes the decision out of his hands, coming with a sobbed version of Max’s name on his lips. Max comes, blind to everything but Daniel’s racing heartbeat under his hand.

When he can breathe again, when Daniel isn’t still clenching around his cock and spilling into his hand, he levers himself up carefully. He keeps a hand on his cock to hold the condom as he slowly pulls out, reluctantly kneeling back and letting Daniel’s legs splay loosely to the side.They’re both sensitive now, hissing as they separate. Max rolls off of Daniel, flopping to the side. He slides the condom off and ties it in a sloppy knot and then doesn’t move any further. 

Daniel is the one who sits up, who finds the tissue box and cursorily scrubs his stomach clean; he takes the condom from Max’s limp grasp and wraps it in a tissue before he cleans Max’s hands too. Max remembers belatedly that he meant to put more of the wipes in the bedroom because the tissues always feel like sandpaper on his skin after sex. They’re fine, really, he just suddenly can’t stand the feel of them in the afterglow.

Max is exhausted, suddenly carved hollow by the catharsis of being close to Daniel again. Daniel’s hand slips into his, surprisingly firmly grasping him. Max is floating, untethered but for that touch. The world feels too big now for him, too vast and frightening. 

Daniel kisses the bone of his wrist and then tucks his lean body alongside Max. “I love you.”

Max nods, squeezes Daniel’s hand. Daniel knows what that means, knows that Max will be predictably useless for a while. Daniel gets energy from sex like a…succubus?…incubus?? Max doesn’t remember anymore which is the right word; they looked it up once when Max joked about Daniel being a sexual vampire and Daniel still thinks it’s funny some nights to pounce on Max and promise to seduce him until he’s exhausted.

Daniel breathes with him quietly for a while, warm where all the rest of Max is cold. “Alright,” Daniel says finally, “let’s take a shower, baby. It’s too early for a nap and you’ll feel better when we’re both actually clean.”

Max nods and doesn’t let go of Daniel’s hand. Daniel, to his credit, takes this in stride. It’s not the first time he’s had to chivvy Max into a shower and it probably won’t be the last; in this at least, Max has lost his shame. Whether Daniel fucks him or he fucks Daniel, he simply cannot be expected to be a person for a while and Daniel has always been good at being enough of a person for both of them when Max really needs him. 

Daniel keeps an arm around his waist until they reach the shower, then shifts to just a hand on Max’s hip as he reaches down to fiddle with the handle by the faucet. 

The noise of the shower almost feels like it’s waking Max up, something stirring finally in his cold, hibernating brain. Daniel steps in first, breaking contact with Max. “It’s warm, okay?” He holds out his hand. “Not like your cold showers, yeah? I can turn it down if you want, but it’s warm.”

Max takes his hand, stepping onto the cool wet tiles. There’s a faint steam rising though and the tiles directly under the spray are warming now. 

“There,” Daniel says, sounding pleased. He pulls Max into him, at least half under the spray. “We’ll get all clean. That’ll be nice, Maxy.”

It’s the softness in his voice that breaks Max, actually; he’s never quite developed the defense against a kind word in the way he’s unflinching in the face of criticism. He presses his face into Daniel’s damp skin, feeling raw and needy. Daniel’s wet hand brushes over his cheek and Max feels more than hears Daniel’s sharp breath.

“Max,” Daniel says, sounding wrecked. “Shit, don’t cry. Max, I’m sorry.”

“It is okay,” Max says stiffly, and it’s true, because he’s hugging Daniel hard enough to bruise now. They’re pressed so tightly together that the water runs in a full stream along their bodies without ever coming between them. 

“Baby,” Daniel sighs, kissing the corner of Max’s eyelid where he’s scrunched his face up in the hopes that the shower water will disguise the tears that have escaped him. “I’m sorry. I should have just talked to you about it.

Max shakes his head because if he says words now, it will only get more embarrassing. 

Daniel doesn’t take the hint though, one careful hand shading Max’s face from the water droplets bouncing off their shoulders. He keeps talking, keeps wiping away Max’s tears. “Max, it was all in my head, you know that, yeah? None of this was about you. I just…I’ve tattooed every home I’ve had on my body and none of them really were gonna say anything. Not like the city of LA was gonna come after me. The closest I got was the tattoos for my parents and I thought my mom was gonna quit speaking to me when she saw my tattoos for the first time.”

Max doesn’t do anything so stupid as croak ‘ I’m your home? ’ but he can feel the shudder of his body and the ache in his throat. “It’s not—” Max starts and then has to begin again because his throat is still in the vise grip of some miserable emotion. “It’s not about that. You could keep secrets. You could even move back into your apartment.” His actions maybe don’t quite square with his words, because he clenches his fists against Daniel’s back at the idea. “But please don’t make me watch you be hurt. All our lives, Danny, I can’t just watch you be hurt and do nothing.” He thinks about the McLaren years, about watching Daniel get more pale and gaunt and still, a man turned corpse; he can’t stop the pathetic sound that chokes him, can’t do anything but turn his face into Daniel’s shoulder.

He can feel the way it hits Daniel, sure as a fist to the gut. For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of the water hissing out of the shower head and Max’s own useless sniffles. 

“I swear,” Daniel says, delicately brushing Max’s damp hair off of his forehead. “I swear, Max, I won’t shut you out again.”

“You can tell me not to touch,” Max promises, nodding determinedly. “But don’t tell me not to help.”

“Baby, never again. If I tell you I don’t need your help, your hands, assume I’ve lost my mind.” He wraps his arms around Max fully, presses his cheek to the side of Max’s head. “I know I’m too much sometimes and I worry. I don’t want—“

“Don’t say that,” Max snaps, frowning. “You’re not too much. Don’t say that ever.” He knows where it comes from but it pisses him off to no end that anyone ever said that to Daniel, that that voice lives in his head. 

“Then you don’t say dumb shit about me moving out,” Daniel snaps back. “I’m not leaving.” Their faces are inches apart, both of their bodies suddenly tense.

“Good!” Max says, suddenly realizing how hard they’re both breathing. Daniel grins at him, almost feral, and then shoves him back against the cold shower wall to kiss him ferociously. The wall is icy and Max arches away from it, into Daniel’s heat. Daniel obligingly loops his arms behind Max, forces them close as they make out until they’re both breathless.

Daniel pulls back first, looking wild and bedraggled. Max’s hand is in his hair, though he doesn’t even remember clutching Daniel’s curls like that. “Good,” Daniel pants, and Max blinks at him, too goddamn stupid to remember what they were even talking about. Daniel smiles at him, slow and warm. “Good,” he repeats more quietly. He leans in, bumps their noses together softly. 

He’s gentle when he steps back, pulling Max with him. 

Max can’t say how the time passes, as Daniel carefully washes them both. He’s sweet, taking the opportunity to kiss Max’s clean elbow, up his bicep to his shoulder. When Max squirms ticklishly, Daniel’s eyes crinkle in a knowing smile. Daniel makes him soft, cracking the shell of him and finding the heart as easily as one might crush a walnut shell for the nut inside.

When Daniel goes to turn off the water, Max stays his hand. “Another minute.” He kisses Daniel’s cheek. “You can dry off. I just want another minute.”

“Alright.” Daniel cups his jaw with a wet hand and smiles indulgently. “If you’re not out in a minute, I’m coming back in to make sure you haven’t drowned.”

Max rolls his eyes and shoos Daniel out. He takes a moment, feels the pounding of the shower on his chest, the heat pooling when the water catches in his collarbones or the crease of his thighs. He feels the love Daniel has left on every inch of clean skin, his kiss-swollen mouth, the fading sting of Daniel’s heels digging into him. 

He shuts the water off, feels the thump of the pipes closing off in his bones. He breathes, thick air like they’re back in Singapore. They’ve had some fun there, hiding in a hotel room from the humid air and the heat. 

He grabs a towel carelessly, scrubs over his head first and then down his body. Daniel’s standing at the sink, towel around his waist, peering at his face in the foggy mirror. 

Max tosses his towel back over the bar and stands there, hands on his hips for a moment. “Danny.”

“Should I shave again?” Daniel asks, frowning as he palms his jaw and tilts his head.”

Max laughs quietly and says again, “Danny.”

Daniel turns at that, leans back against the bathroom counter and nods at him. “Yeah?”

He looks beautiful; the warm light of the bathroom catches his tan skin and he looks like he stepped out of some 90’s magazine when he smiles at Max.

Max steps to him, kisses him. “I missed you.”

“Yeah.” Daniel almost ducks his head, but Max catches him, kisses him again. 

“I’m glad you delayed your trip.” Thank you. “I’m glad I get the time to do this.” I’m glad you’re mine.

Daniel’s blushing now and it’s not the fading heat of the shower. “I missed you too.”

“Gotta make up for lost time,” Max tells him and doesn’t really care if Daniel understands him. He wants to relearn Daniel’s body, wants to make Daniel understand that Max will love him through every change as long as Daniel lets him. 

Max’s fingers easily pull loose the sloppy tuck of the towel around Daniel’s waist, Daniel shifting slightly so Max can toss it on the ground. He’s just so fucking pretty like this, soft like a dream in the dissipating fog of the shower.

He kisses Daniel, feels the tacky pull where their damp skin touches and drags at his ribs. 

He slides his hand down Daniel’s side, traces the tattoo he’s already thinking of as his, down to the stick-and-poke fried egg on Daniel’s hip that’s always covered by his underwear. He thumbs absentmindedly at the jut of Daniel’s hipbone and smirks a little when Daniel’s breath hitches. “Tease,” Daniel jokes lightly, leaning in for another brief kiss.

“No,” Max murmurs against his mouth. “Not teasing.” 

He slides down to his knees easily, hands resting on the curve of Daniel’s hips. The rug under him is damp now, both of their footprints marked in water on its pile. He shifts, tucking his feet under him neatly as he settles there between Daniel’s legs.

Daniel shivers at his hot breath, dick twitching as Max exhales slowly. He doesn’t say anything though, not even when Max presses a kiss to the damp crease of his thigh. Max can see from down here, Daniel’s hooded eyes, the way his chest expands with labored breaths, his mouth falling open slightly.

He strokes the thin skin at the apex of Daniel’s thigh gently, reverently. He’s spent too long without this and now he can’t be satiated. He doesn’t know how long he kneels there, kissing Daniel’s hip and slowly stroking his cock; Daniel grips the counter behind him like it’s going to get up and walk away from him. Max wasn’t sure if Daniel would be able to go again, but maybe he’s been feeling just as deprived as Max.

He takes Daniel into his mouth, feels the sting of the corner of his mouth splitting. It’s been too long, really, but the discomfort is small and Max ignores it. 

Daniel says his name, praise and pleading all at once. This is only about him, Max knows, looking up at Daniel with what can only be called a worshipful gaze. 

He’s not hard himself, probably won’t get there. This is keeping Daniel here, making Daniel see exactly how Max feels even when he can’t articulate it himself. Daniel frees one hand to cradle the nape of Max’s neck, watching Max with hungry eyes.

“Baby, fuck, your mouth,” Daniel sighs, hips shifting in Max’s firm grasp. “Max, I’m gonna—“ he inhales sharply as Max flicks his tongue over Daniel’s soft skin. “Fuck, Max, seriously.”

And Max doesn’t always want it, but today, he’s not moving until Daniel comes in his mouth.

He keeps bobbing his head, Daniel’s lax grip on his head seeming like more of a comfort for Daniel then any attempt to hurry Max along.

Daniel comes, a bitten expletive in his mouth and his eyes clenched shut as he tries to hold still and not choke Max. 

It’s sweet, because Daniel is sweet. When Max pulls off, Daniel is still breathing hard, frozen against the counter.

Max stands, with a mouthful of cum, and gently shifts Daniel to the side so the sink is free.

As he spits in the sink and rinses out his mouth, Daniel’s arms steal around him. Daniel’s warm weight is welcome, even more so when Daniel nuzzles his shoulder and mumbles “I love you.”

And Max can’t breathe sometimes for the power of Daniel’s love, but he can turn in Daniel’s embrace and hold him tight. Daniel is trying to give him forever and Max is going to cling to that as long as he has blood in his veins. 

“I love you,” Max says, digging his fingers in and holding Daniel like they can stay like this until the end of time, like the world will slow down just as witness to this love.

There’s a displeased yowl from outside the bedroom and Daniel laughs. 

“They missed you,” Max chides him. “I keep giving them your sweatshirts to sleep on.”

They’re so close that he can feel Daniel flinch a little and he could kick himself. There isn’t supposed to be shame between them now.

“Better let them in, huh?” Daniel pulls back slightly, smiling.

“Yes. I think we can turn off our phones and just spend some time together. All together.” He squeezes Daniel’s waist and watches Daniel’s small smile bloom into something warmer. 

Daniel kisses him, laughing when they hear the familiar thump of Jimmy slapping the door. “Alright. But let me put on pants first. I don’t want to traumatize your kids.”

Max laughs, because the cats are only ‘theirs’ when they’re well-behaved. And still, Max knows that Daniel loves them, that in his heart the cats are part of both of them now.

Someday, Max will let himself hope for more, someday he’ll unlock the part of his heart that’s afraid to wish too loudly. For now this is his family, Daniel in his underwear and the cats chirping on the bed to demand cuddles and himself, wanted and needed and loved by them.