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It was the first pale rays of early sunrise that glanced through a tiny crack in the curtains Max was sure he’d shut, that spilled soft rays of gold across the room and roused him from deep slumber. For a moment nothing seemed different, just his Monaco bedroom in its usual still and quiet pause; the morning wavering in a hesitant haze rich with warmth and potential as a rare day with few scheduled plans slunk its way over the horizon. Somewhere in the apartment a bell tinkled incessantly as one of the cats, no doubt awake since even hours even smaller than this, sought to wreak a vicious, violent havoc on whatever toy had incurred its wrath thus far.
Max felt as though his body was floating in a gentle, syrupy fog somewhere along the winding road to wakefulness, and he could muster little energy to follow it. However as consciousness trickled in like a persistent fuel leak, he became vaguely aware of a shape beneath him, another source of warmth both unfamiliar and comforting and smelling faintly of mint.
Mint?
Max’s eyes fluttered open as the curiosity nestled near and found that his previously restless sleep had drawn him closer and closer to Esteban throughout the night, and now he was entirely sprawled on top of the Frenchman with his head nestled close to his chest and their legs tangled together beneath the duvet. One, two, hazy seconds slipped by before a spasm of panic stumbled down Max’s spine. He knew, in as logical a sense as his brain could muster at such a criminally early hour, that Esteban was strong. He had to be, of course, in order to wrangle an F1 car around a track with as much skill and passion as he did. And yet Max also knew, as anyone with functioning eyes could tell, that Esteban was also very thin; his racesuit clung tightly to his long limbs on weekends, or at other times an oversized shirt billowed around his slender arms like a cloud that could carry him away in the right breeze.
Max summoned what vague energy he could and carefully shifted his weight, trying to slide off without disturbing Esteban. And yet the moment he moved, a hand on his back first twitched and then tightened on his shirt with a strength that had no business raising its head at a time when the sun hadn’t even bullied itself all the way up. A mumble drenched honey-sweet with sleep slipped into the cocoon around them.
“Ne pars pas.”
It occurred dimly to Max that at some point it wouldn’t be a poor idea to revisit what little French he had come across in his karting days.
“What?”
“Don’t … go.” Evidently the ask to coordinate a mutual tongue was far too high at this unreasonable hour. The dewy morning light was at least easy on Max’s tired eyes as he blinked them open a little more and peered upwards to the breathtaking sight of Esteban with indents of Max’s pillow lightly trailing along his cheek. His eyes were still firmly closed, and his hair lay soft and splayed around his head like a fluffy halo that had Max seized with the sudden desire to steal away his hair gel, preferably forever. The vulnerable view had something sweeter than last night’s want flaring low in Max’s chest, an emotion so heady and raw it would risk leaving him gasping for air and seeking out Esteban like a final source of oxygen if it weren’t swimming against the tide of hazy, slow bliss found in a golden sunrise. Max felt his throat audibly click as he swallowed this feeling down - for now - and fumbled for words of his own.
“Aren’t I…am I not crushing you?” He managed.
Esteban’s eyes stayed shut, but a tiny, sleepy smile graced the corners of his lips. “Mm, non,” he murmured. “You’re… warm.”
For one of very few moments in his life, Max was lost for words. Then, before he could help it, a grin spread its steady way across his face and before he knew it he was beaming down at Esteban like an idiot.
“Warm, huh?” Slowly he eased back to the position he had awoken in, readjusting so his weight settled over him once more and he could lower his head to the comforting crook of Esteban’s neck. “So I’m, what, a human blanket for you?”
Esteban’s agreeing hum reverberated through his chest and Max’s, but it was the shy smile and the way Esteban buried his face deeper into the pillow as if to hide it that made that sweet, heady feeling claw its way up Max’s chest once more. Max felt his residual tension waver and shatter like a pane of thin glass at the sensation of Esteban’s hand lazily sliding up his back, the touch tender and unhurried.
“Perhaps.” Esteban’s voice was muffled by the downy pillow, his accent thick as treacle and it made Max’s heart ache with a desire he couldn’t put a name to yet in English or Dutch. “You’re just… comfy. Parfait.”
Now that word Max knew. “You’re perfect,” he murmured back, vaguely aiming for sarcastic, missing by a mile and finding nothing within him that could care any less. His own arms relaxed around Esteban, melting into the body beneath him with an ease their profession and lives so rarely allowed, and his eyes fluttered closed once more.
The morning’s gentle quiet drew over them once more, velvety as the duvet around them and just as persuasive in coaxing Max back towards sleep. In amongst the vague city sounds that tapped at the window but found themselves unable to crawl in any further he could both feel and hear Esteban’s heartbeat beneath his own, steady and reassuring as the man it belonged to. For once, surrender was easy. It was easy for Max to let his eyes stay closed and wrap his arms around Esteban’s slender, warm body. It was easy to let himself be held in turn, Esteban’s touch graced with an easy tenderness as if the motion of snuggling closer didn’t even require conscious thought. It was easy to let the sun slink in through that crack in the curtain and nestle them closer into the bubble they were building for themselves, a shield and a sanctuary against the outside world at least for a little bit longer.
Max had always been raised to believe the best things in life were never easy. But here, now, with Esteban moving only to press a kiss to his cheek before doubtless sliding back towards sleep, Max knew that easy or not, he could chase a moment like this for the rest of his life.
Just maybe after five more minutes.