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It started as a cold. It wasn't anything serious. At first he thought it was allergies; summer was upon them, the flowers had bloomed, and pollen drifted in the air. Although it was a little more than just a runny nose and the occasional sneeze. It tumbled into something more, his nose flipped between being too stuff and too dry, a constant tickle at the back of his throat, an aching tiredness had crept its way into him.
"You've got a cold?" Daniel asked, mouth full of whatever sugary cereal he'd bought that week. Well, it was less of a question and more of a statement, but Max opted to look at it as a query.
"Fucking stupid body," he muttered, opting to grab a slice of bread and slipped it into the toaster. He cut up some tomato and layered it on the buttered toast, finishing with some salt. It was a boring meal, according to Daniel. But Daniel did not have to worry about staying in shape over the summer and going back to racing once it ended. He'd indulge in dinner instead; breakfast could be quick, easy, and healthy. "It's summer," Max added grumpily. "Who gets a cold in summer?"
Daniel laughed. "You, apparently."
"It's stupid," Max repeated.
"It happens," Daniel shrugged.
Summer break had fully started by now. Max had spent a little time with his family for a few days at the beginning. Then he was on a flight to Australia to spend the rest of the break with his boyfriend. Long distance hadn't been easy, but in the end, they'd made it work. Daniel couldn't part with his homeland for good and it still stung to go back to the paddock. So, for the time being, he stayed away from watching Max's races in person. They got by with FaceTimes that lasted hours, calls that went on late into the evening depending on where Max was in the world at the time, and inappropriate messages Max insisted Daniel stopped sending. But Daniel, the cheeky bastard that he was, just ramped up the amount of scandalous texts he sent.
It wasn't perfect, but it was their own little life that they had together. Max could visit Daniel over the summer and Daniel had said he would spend Christmas and New Year's in Monaco. They made it work.
Though right now, Max hated Australia with his entire being. He didn't have a probable cause yet; he wasn't entirely sure how the country had made him ill, but he'd find a reason.
When he had told Daniel this, however, his boyfriend had dared to laugh. "Maxy," Daniel found it all too amusing. "Sometimes you get a cold in the summer; it just happens. My home country doesn't have some personal vendetta against you."
Max had huffed but shut up about it. The weather was nice, albeit a bit hot, so he tried to focus on that. Tried to relax a little. Daniel had turned to farming now that he didn't have racing to fill up his time. What had started as a little garden had blossomed into a large allotment. He had a few chickens, three goats, and one grumpy horse that Max also swore had it out for him.
"Petunia does not hate you, Max. She loves everyone," Daniel had said as they stood by the gate. They had just fed Petunia, a Shetland pony with an attitude, and were now closing the paddock. She was a menace, but whenever Daniel had his eyes on her, she would act falsely innocent.
"No, she was glaring at me as you filled up the trough, Daniel," he argued. From across the field, Petunia was staring at them, and Max could feel her contempt. He had no idea what he had ever done to upset her but he would never dare be alone with her. She usually lazed around, grazed a little, and basked in the heat, but Max was certain she could sprint after him if she really wanted to. He wasn't going to test his theory.
"Max, she is a pony. She hasn't got a mean bone in her body."
"That's because she's a natural-born actor."
"So you're telling me," Daniel locked the gate and picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow. "That my lovely little girl, Petunia, is really the devil disguised in a horse's costume?"
"She may have you under her spell, but I know the truth. I know."
Daniel rolled his eyes as they started heading over to the chickens. "Sure, Max. Sure."
So the Shetland pony was out for him. Australia itself was out for him. And Daniel thought Max was being dramatic. So really, the only person (animal, actually) that had his back was Geoffrey the chicken. Geoffrey, who was a hen, but she didn't seem to mind the male name. The Australorp chicken was covered in black plumage that had iridescent strokes of green throughout. She was a beauty. The other chickens (the flock being a mixed collective of breeds) kept to themselves, but Geoffrey had been interested in Max. She had hopped over to him and picked at his shoelace inquisitively.
The goats were goats, plain and simple. They were mischievous and loud, bleating happily as they attempted to munch on anything and everything. Rod, Tod, and Cod ( stupid names if you were to ask Max, but then again, he had cats named Jimmy and Sassy, along with their newest addition of Donut. So perhaps he couldn't judge naming patterns.) And maybe he did feel a little attached to the small demons because they caused Daniel grief, and it was entertaining to watch his boyfriend have to coax Tod down from the roof of the barn after the goat had, yet again, managed to parkour his way up there.
Don't let the goats know that, though. It would get to their heads and they'd try to charge Max as soon as he was in their eyeline. He'd rather not have to fend off three goats.
With the cold brewing from somewhere within him, he found himself sitting in the chickens' enclosure. At night, Daniel wrestled them back into the coop but when the sun was out, they were free to roam the large area. It spanned so far that the opposite line fence was tucked away in a small patch of trees. Sometimes the hassle of getting the chickens all inside was a workout.
"You see, Geoff," Max spoke, voice nasally. His eyes were sore, he was tired, and he was starting to think that the cold was winning the fight. "I'm sick and it is not fun," he continued, the hen happily sat in his lap. "I don't think I can get you ill. I wouldn't put you at risk. But I thought you'd offer some comfort in these trying times."
Geoffrey clucked softly.
"See, Geoff,you get me."
"Geoff?" Daniel had appeared out of nowhere, lazily leaning against the fence. "Since when did Geoffrey go by Geoff?"
"She likes it," Max clarified, but quickly added, "only her friends can refer to her by that nickname, though."
"Oh, is that so?" He raised a brow. "So you and Geoff are best friends now, is that it?"
"Yeah."
"So if you two are so close, I'm sure Geoff has told you that you should be resting inside instead of sitting out here."
A moment passed. Max sighed. "I'm fine, Daniel."
"I just care, 'kay? Don't want you pushing yourself when you're not feeling great."
Max understood where his boyfriend was coming from. He'd fret over Daniel too, if the roles were reversed; they'd gone through so much, cared for each other more than anything in the world. Worrying about one another was par for the course.
"I'll be careful," he promised. Geoff chuffed. That seemed enough of a response for Daniel.
Max thought it would pass. That night, as he struggled to fall asleep, he thought it was just a cold.
Turned out it wasn't just a cold.
Or, well, it was. It was just a bad one. The type that bordered on turning into a fever or the flu if you weren't careful. His breath came out short and puffy, chest aching. When he woke up, he had splashed water over his face and scrubbed at his eyes, but it didn't alleviate any of the pressure sitting tight under his skin. He'd exited casual cold territory and stepped into something a little more serious, but he didn't want to worry Daniel. He knew his boyfriend would drop everything to dote on Max, so he tried to keep everything to himself. He could look after himself; it would all be fine.
He took one step outside, decided that today he would see how the courgettes were doing. The first round of harvesting was apparently at the start of July, but Daniel had explained how easy it was for the courgettes to grow time and time again. Now he had them in abundance.
He had literally just shut the door behind him when:
"Where do you think you're going?"
Max turned to see Daniel, who had one hand on his hip and the other was holding a bucket full of— whatever? Max didn't know, he couldn't see and didn't want to close in, lest Daniel see what state he was actually in.
"I'm going to check on the courgettes," Max answered, matter-of-factly.
Daniel looked him up and down. "No, you're not."
"Wha—"
"You're sick, Maxy." Daniel wasn't mean with his words; they came out tender. That was what made it worse. "You don't need to do anything today, okay?"
"But I'm here to spend time with you. I said I'd help out around the farm."
"Max, it's okay. I'd rather you look after yourself first."
Begrudgingly, he went back inside. He paced a little, tried to sit in front of the TV and watch something, even raided the fridge for some snacks but he couldn't help but feel useless. He didn't like all the waiting around. He had been so excited to spend time with his boyfriend (even if it did mean having to deal with Petunia), and now a measly cold had him on house arrest.
Being ill sucked.
The following morning, he felt worse. He was dizzy, his skin flushed hot, and an uncomfortable sweat made his t-shirt stick to his back. He'd been asleep for too long but didn't feel rejuvenated. However, the idea of being sat inside again had him internally groaning.
So he made a compromise.
"Let me feed the chickens," Max said to Daniel. He had blocked the Australian from leaving the house. Max stood between him and the door.
"Max, I assure you I can let the chickens out and make sure they're fed myself, you really don't have to—"
"I want to." He cut in.
Daniel blinked. He took Max in, hair slick to his forehead and cheeks rosy. This was more than Max wanting to help out; Daniel knew that. It was something deeper-rooted. Something built up from childhood. Being told, growing up, that being ill made you weak had repercussions on how you treated yourself as an adult. All Max had known was push, push, push until you physically couldn't anymore. He had been told not to show vulnerabilities. He had been told that being sick took away precious time that could have been spent racing, training, and looking through data.
Daniel hated to think about how many times Max had raced sick when he was younger. When Max had first joined Red Bull, it had taken a monumental effort from the rest of the team to get him to finally open up if he wasn't feeling well.
Feeding the chickens was not a strenuous task. Daniel knew it would eat away at Max if he was just sat inside with only his thoughts as company. Finally, he nodded, "Okay. Just tell me if you need anything and come straight back, alright?"
Max smiled gently and then Daniel was out the door and hopping on his quad bike, it dragged along a small trailer that currently housed another apparatus for the goats to explore. Daniel had told Max about it when he had ordered it online, excitedly rambling about how the goats could climb the steps, and dash through the tunnel, and there weren't any loose pieces that they could ingest. Max would be fine. He did not need assistance from Daniel. Not when his boyfriend was clearly busy.
Walking to the coup took more effort than Max cared to admit. The heat beat down on him, the sky was cloudless with the sun fully exposed, even this early in the day. He had to prop himself up against the fence and take a few steadying breaths, which grated against his ribs, before stumbling to the coop and unlatching the gate.
Several pairs of talons scuttled over the grass and dirt. Max made his way to the locked shed where the food was, slowly scattering it around so the chickens could forage.
By the time he was done, he was a breathless, sweaty mess and decided to trudge his way over to the trees on the edge of the fence. It was shaded over there, so it would be an ideal place to relax as he watched the hens and the rooster go about their day. He'd rather that than the daytime TV shows he'd tried to sit through yesterday.
Once he had sat, cross-legged, he found the area to be perfectly comfortable. His head was spinning— he probably should've brought some water with him and should have taken some meds before he left the house. He would never admit how much energy it actually took, his chest heaving, to feed the chickens. He decided it wouldn't hurt to sit and regenerate his energy. Even if his sinuses were on fire, the skin under his eyes stung, and a pain that settled in the back of his neck which signified that he hadn't slept in a comfortable position last night.
"—ax, Max!"
His eyes were shut, body sprawled across the grass— hang on, when did Max close his eyes?
"Max, if you don't wake up right now, I'm going to call the police."
"How would the police help?" He mumbled out.
"Oh, thank fuck. Don't scare me like that!" Daniel playfully punched Max's chest, which would usually be fine, but on this occasion it left him spluttering for breath. "Oh shit, sorry. Sorry, here— let me just—"
Daniel helped him into a sitting position and a hand rubbed up and down his back. Max finally cracked open his eyes only to find that the shade of the tree he was under had moved drastically, the sun having dragged itself across the sky.
"How long was I asleep?" He croaked.
"Fuck if I know, Max. You went to feed the chickens four hours ago. I was so busy with everything else," Daniel dragged his free hand down his own face, stress creasing his forehead, "I was too busy to notice you hadn't come back to the house. Went in to grab food and you weren't there."
"I'm here," he took Daniel's free hand away from his face and held it instead. "I'm okay."
"You're sick." Daniel pointed out curtly.
"Well, okay, in my defence, I didn't think I'd fall asleep outside." The joking tone fell flat. Daniel was staring at him with eyes full of concern. The type of caring gaze that always made Max squirm.
"Max," Daniel spoke softly, "I was so scared. Maybe I was being dramatic, but I walked up to the coop and saw you on the floor. I couldn't tell— what if—"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
"I know. I'm sorry too. I don't mean to make you feel suffocated by trying to keep you in the house. I just care about you. So much."
"I just feel useless sitting there and you doing all the work."
"Well, how do you think I manage when you're not around?" There was a teasing lilt to his voice, the worry melting away to be replaced with compassion. Max relaxed marginally too.
"You know what I mean."
"I do. Yeah." Daniel then hesitated, a knowing look to his eyes. It meant that he had an idea. He was moving to stand and an arm snaked under Max's knees, the other still around his back.
"Daniel, what are you— verdomme," he was hauled up, carried bridal style as Daniel weaved past the chicken and towards the gate.
"No more work today. Animals are all fed, watered, and happy. They can be dealt with when I need to put them to bed tonight."
Max's face flushed red. "Why are you carrying me?"
"Because I care," it was with such simplicity. As if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world. "Let me look after you, okay? You don't have to be alone in the house. I want to do this. So will you allow me the honour of caring for you?"
He was tired, his brain fried. He had been built to work through his problems, push through a cold or flu until it retreated. His body was meant to win the fight. But Daniel was different— this was the same man who had gently reminded Max to drink water when he had first joined Redbull and often forgot. He brought Max homemade soup, his mum's recipe, when he had heard of the whispers that Max had come down with a mild fever. He had offered him a spare pair of headphones that one time when the clatter of the garage was unexpectedly too much. This was Daniel, the only person to see Max truly at his worst and he had still stuck around after the whole mess had subsided. He stuck through the highs and the lows, even when Max pushed him away. Like how Max had come back again and again, even when Daniel had pushed him away. They had seen each other through it all. This was Daniel, a cut above the rest. Daniel, who was kind despite the roughness the world threw at him. Never one to judge others because of illness. Never one to judge others at all, really.
When Daniel was sick, he turned into a softy. Much more clingy and he needed a lot of attention. Max thought it was adorable. He was always happy to take care of his boyfriend.
So if others could relax when they were ill, then maybe Max could learn to indulge those privileges too.
He tucked his head into the crook of Daniel's neck and said, "Okay. I'll be looked after. If it were anyone else asking, I would have said no."
"I know, Maxy."
"But because it's you," he reiterated, "I don't hate the idea of being cared for when sick."
"Good. Because you deserve it, you deserve to be cared for."
His blush deepened, and he planted a kiss on the edge of Daniel's jaw. Daniel's grip tightened. He held Max closer to his chest as they headed back to the house.