Archive of Our Own

Charles didn’t normally get sick, not badly at least. Once or twice a year he would get a cold, just a stuffy nose, some sneezing, sometimes a cough, and nothing more. He could handle a cold just fine.

All throughout today, he’d been coughing. No big deal. He was probably getting a cold. His nose didn’t feel stuffy yet but he was sure it’d be around in no time. He had plans with Max tomorrow, he was coming over to give Charles his Christmas gift because he had been sick and had to postpone.

Come to think of it, Max had never said how sick he’d been. He’d probably gotten a cold and given it to Charles, and if that was true Charles was prepared to never let Max live it down, because by the hour the cough was getting worse and his throat was getting scratchier.

It was fine, though. Charles made hot chocolate to ease his throat and what a good reason to splurge on calories. He didn’t worry too much about it as he got ready for bed. He could hopefully sleep the cough off, he’d rather just be sniffly.

Charles woke up fast. The room was dark, and he was wide awake. His brain was fast and too slow, because he wasn’t forming any thought except shouldn’t he be tired? He sat up just slightly and didn’t sit up more when his stomach flipped. He reached to grab his phone, and wasn’t happy to find it was three in the morning. Not anywhere near to the time he was normally up.

So he was just up. And alert. And kind of nauseous. And his heart was beating really fast. Not good signs.

He laid his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes and taking a slow breath. He wasn’t going to puke, he was just paranoid. Because puking was the absolute worst and he’d rather lie there nauseous and he was overthinking, and he wasn’t going to puke.

Until his mouth got way too watery and he was up. He momentarily got tangled in his sheets which he didn’t fix properly, he climbed out of bed and almost fell with them still around his ankles but stepped out of it after a about two steps and was fully bolting to the bathroom.

He opened the toilet and carelessly dropped to his knees. Not only was he was about to puke but he was anxious about it. It hit him like a punch, and he was retching.

The worst part was he didn’t feel much better after it was over. He closed the lid and flushed the toilet and sat back. His mouth tasted horrible and his hands were shaking a bit and his heart was still hammering in his chest. He stood up, but regretted it, because he was wobbly and nauseous still. He was too scared to leave the bathroom.

So he got his phone, and dragged a blanket into the bathroom and plopped them on the floor. He stumbled to his kitchen and got a glass of water and went back to the bathroom, curling up on the floor and drinking his water. For nearly two hours he sat on his bathroom floor, miserable and shivering cold, body aching from sitting on the floor but not moving because it upset his stomach. For those two hours, he scrolled through social media, despite normally being better about it. He should’ve dragged a pillow into the bathroom too, to prop up so his back didn’t ache. But he wasn’t getting back up.

At probably five fifty, Charles caved and wandered back to his bed. Leaving the blanket on the bathroom floor and curling back up under his covers. He figured since he hadn’t puked again, he’d be fine to at least be miserable in his bed. Fighting his own anxiety about it, because he was probably being paranoid.

For half an hour he scrolled TikTok in the comfort of his bed, blanket tucked up to his chin, and sipping on his water when he remembered it was there.

Then he was up and running to the bathroom again. He puked again. And brought his water and a pillow this time to the bathroom with him, sitting up because clearly lying down was not his friend. At all. He wasn’t proud of how long, in total, he spent on the bathroom floor.

After a while the nausea eased enough for Charles to dare to go back to bed, not lying down this time but making sure to be sitting up. He was tired and his eyes hurt because it was almost nine and he’d been on his phone since three. He was sleepy, and closed his eyes, but couldn’t fall asleep. All that happened was he focused more on the underlying nausea and he was just frustrated after a while.

He got a notification on his phone, an email, that he tried to read but he quickly got a headache and couldn’t even think and he was miserable. He closed the email and went back to social media, no thoughts in his head besides whatever stupid video was in front of him.

At noon he started dozing off.

“Charles?” Charles woke up, not to his name being spoken but rather the churning in his stomach. He sat up quickly, his mouth already watery, and god he shouldn’t have laid down. Momentarily he wondered why Max was standing in his doorway. He didn’t ponder long, already up and hurrying past him to the bathroom and to the toilet. He wasn’t as fast this time and was already puking in the bowl by the time he hit his knees.

“Charles!”

Max followed him into the bathroom. Halfway through puking he felt a hand on his back and tried to swat Max away, but he was more focused on the puking. In the panic of the sleepy haze and the puke and Max, Charles was half choking. Coughing while gagging. For it all to stop he actually had to calm himself down, taking a very purposefully slow breath and holding back a few coughs.

Charles’s hands were shaking again and he just wanted this to stop. He shut the toilet lid a little too hard, the noise slightly hurt his ears, flushing it, and sat back. This time he didn’t slump against the wall, but Max. Right. Max. Max had just watched him puke. Nothing but water and stomach acid on top of that. And choking on it. Charles officially was ready to move to another country and live in some cabin in the middle of the woods. Avoid this embarrassment forever.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, crouched a bit behind Charles, hand rubbing his back. It was soothing, Charles would admit. Not out loud, though, even in his head the admittance was begrudgingly. Charles just shook his head. His throat was kind of burning, his head was pounding, and he’d just woken up from a nap.

“When… did you get here?” Charles asked slowly, voice a bit hoarse. Max almost winced at it, lips slightly pulling thinner, but Charles assumed he was schooling his face. Or was just disgusted. Ok, he had to be disgusted, Charles had just hurled. He scooted a bit away from Max, who took his hand off Charles as he pulled away.

“Not long. Christmas gift, remember?” Max asked. Charles didn’t reply, trying to think back. He felt his head tilt slightly and didn’t even care. “Ok. No. That’s fine. I’ll—I’m gonna get you water.”

Max left quickly, and Charles halfheartedly reached up but Max didn’t see and Charles’s throat hurt and he didn’t want to call out. Max came back with water, as promised. Not a glass but a bottle. He uncapped it and offered it to Charles. As Charles went to take it, his hands were shaking.

“Ok, ok, you don’t have to.” Max mumbled, easing Charles’s hand back down, and bringing the bottle up to his lips. Charles gladly drank the water, easing the burn in his throat, but he only took a few small sips. Max tried to urge more and Charles only drank a little bit before absolutely refusing.

“Sorry.” Charles said quietly, pulling the pillow behind his back. He has firmly decided he just shouldn’t leave the bathroom at all. Ever again. “Forgot.”

“I can see that. It’s fine, I probably gave you it.”

“What?”

“I had the flu. Remember?”

“You didn’t say flu, you just said under the weather,” Charles grumbled softly. Max chuckled, just a bit. As Max looked around, Charles wanted to dig a hole and hide inside. The blanket and pillow were still strewn in the bathroom, and Charles was also still in his pajamas.

“You’ve made yourself comfy in here.”

“Nauseous.” Max nodded at Charles’s reply. Max understood, because he had it not long ago, and had given it to Charles. Once Charles felt better he was going to kill Max for doing this to him. Until then, that would have to wait. “You should go.”

“Have you been staying hydrated? Have you eaten?” Charles’s face pinched up at Max’s questions. Had Max really just ignored Charles telling him to leave? Charles definitely didn’t want Max sticking around to while he was sick, that was only going to lead to more embarrassment. “Hello? Charles.”

“Yes.” Charles muttered, a lie, but he didn’t care. He’d kind of been drinking but he definitely hasn’t eaten and didn’t plan too. “You should leave,” Charles tried again.

“You’re a bad liar.” Max returned simply, holding the back of his hand to Charles’s forehead. Charles tilted his head away, but Max’s hand followed. “You don’t feel warm or anything. Do you have a thermometer somewhere? Just to be sure.”

“What…” Charles trailed off, watching Max stand up and go to the cabinet over the sink. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help you. Have you taken any medicine?” Max was moving around and Charles’s eyes barely followed even as they tried their hardest. Charles was sat there, confused, watching Max now go through the storage under his sink.

“Non…” Charles grumbled, suddenly a little annoyed with Max’s persistence to help. “Can’t you leave? This is… already horrible enough.”

Max finally paused and stopped looking around Charles’s bathroom. Finally. Charles sighed, half in relief, half in tiredness. Max returned the sigh.

“Am I making it worse?”

“Oui. I am embarrassed.” Charles mumbled and closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Max. “Did you have body aches too or is something else wrong with me?”

“No, that’s definitely something that comes with the flu. It’s absolutely awful.” Charles chuckled dryly, and it hurt and turned into a cough and that hurt a lot more. He peeled opened his eyes and reached for his water, taking a small sip to ease his throat.

“On your way out, would you turn up the heating? It’s been so cold all morning.”

“Charles, that’s just you, not your apartment.”

“Putain.” Charles muttered under his breath. Max shook his head slightly, a small smile on his face. Charles didn’t know why he was smiling. French wasn’t amusing and Charles being sick better not be amusing to Max.

“A bath would help with the body aches and to warm you up.” Max commented, gesturing to the bathtub across from them. Charles had never used it, he’d literally only showered. “I would know, they helped me. I could run you one?”

“Baths are… for girls. Non?”

“Charles. A bath is a bath. Warm water will help.” Max explained easily, and Charles didn’t really care. But his lower back was aching, and his thighs just a bit, and Charles did want it to stop. “If not I could get you food? Anything you think you can eat? More water or some sports drinks so you can rehydrate. Medicine? You probably have a headache about now.”

“Uhm…” So many words had just come out of Max’s mouth and Charles was still trying to catch up from the bath thing. Which, he was considering, because he was freezing. But he definitely wasn’t hungry. And he probably should hydrate. “I have gatorade in the fridge…”

Max was already nodding, moving. “No bath? No food? You really should try to eat—“

“Bath. Bath is fine.” Charles mumbled and Max nodded again. He left and came back with a gatorade, which he opened for Charles and handed to him. He then went to the bathtub, rolled up his sleeve, and started running the water.

Charles watched as he pulled the shower curtain out of the tub, leaned down to plug the drain, and checked the temperature every so often as it ran. Taking a sip of his gatorade, Charles relaxed slightly, much happier to drink it than the water. Probably that dumb placebo effect, but he thought his head instantly started feeling a bit better as he drank it.

“I know you want me to leave, but I will only go after you eat,” Max said. Charles suddenly didn’t mind, because Max was happy to take care of him. Which Charles thought would suck and make him feel useless, but he also felt like absolute shit so it was kind of a win.

“I am not hungry.”

“Then I guess I’m not leaving.” Max commented and Charles almost laughed but didn’t because he was scared of coughing and choking on nothing but air. After a few minutes, Max shut off the water and stepped aside. “Do you want me to schedule you a doctor’s appointment? So you can get flu medicine? I think they give anti nausea medicine, too.”

Charles nodded. Anti nausea tablets sounded like a dream.

“Great. I can do that…” Max said, moving and stopping. “Bath is ready but let me get you your phone, before you undress and everything.”

Charles watched as he went to Charles’s bedroom, and came back with Charles’s phone. Charles smiled softly and stood up, just a tad wobbly. Max steadied him, hands coming to Charles’s upper arm and side, even though Charles didn’t necessarily need his help, and Max’s touch lingered.

“Will you be okay to…” Max trailed off, and Charles watched pink rise to his cheeks. Charles couldn’t help but chuckle just a bit.

“Oui, Max, I can strip myself.”

“When you put it like that I sound like a perv.” Max grumbled, letting go, still blushing. “I only wish to help, I promise. Shout or text if you need anything.” Max added, before leaving the bathroom again, gently shutting the door.

Charles was happy to ease into the bath, the warmth doing wonders for him. He watched random videos on his phone, on youtube this time, until he ended up kind of drifting in and out of a very light sleep, never fully awake, but not really resting either.

Knocking on the bathroom door woke him up from whatever weird nap he’d taken. His head was kind of foggy and he was half sat up in the bath, head resting on the washcloth that he hadn’t seen Max set out for him until he’d gotten in the bath.

“Charles? Are you okay?” Max asked, loudly only to project through the door. Worry carried through, too. Charles glanced at his phone, tried to turn it on, and realized it had died. Which made sense, he’d been on it constantly since three in the morning. “Charles! If you don’t answer me I am going to come in there.”

“Max. I’m—‘M fine.” Charles called, as loud as he could muster with his sore throat and cracky voice. “Désolé.” Charles didn’t understand why it came out in French, it happened more when he was still learning English but not so much anymore. Maybe his brain was mixed up because he was sick. He didn’t know and he found it hard to care.

“Ok, just checking. You hadn’t answered your phone, and it’s been a little over an hour.” Max said through the door. Despite being told he’s been in the tub a bit over an hour, Charles had no idea what time it was. The day had been blurring by.

“Phone died. Kind of slept.”

“You shouldn’t sleep in the bath,” Max softly chided. Charles hummed, but Max definitely didn’t hear. “Do you need anything? If you want to get the water warm again just drain a bit and refill it warm. I can seriously bring anything, food, or refills of water. I’ll cover my eyes and stumble blind.”

Max had kind of rambled. Somehow, Charles ended up smiling at the sentiment. It was perfectly okay that Max couldn’t see it through the door. Charles thought on it, he didn’t want to get out but also his whole hands were wrinkly.

“Non, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Charles replied, pulling the drain plug up and getting to his feet. As he grabbed the towel and dried himself off, he decided he needed to brush his teeth. The feeling of how nasty they were against his tongue was starting to drive him up the wall.

He brushed his teeth, glad to find the taste of his toothpaste hadn’t made him nauseous, but he didn’t gamble with mouthwash and just swished with some water. When he bent down to get his clothes, he felt dizzy and like his stomach might be turning upside down. After that, he decided he didn’t need to bend down and get his shirt, he’d be fine in just the pajama pants. He got back to his bed and plugged his phone in, tucking in under the blankets.

“Sorry for waking you, even if you shouldn’t be sleeping in the tub.” Max said as he entered, and only when he entered Charles realized his bedroom door has just been open. “I got fresh water and gatorade and can go get whatever you left in there. Since you’re picky about drinks being cold.”

Charles was surprised there was no annoyance or teasing in Max’s tone even as he called Charles picky, which he was. Max disappeared into the bathroom without anything else, and Charles was content. He was seen. And taken care of. Even if he kind of wasted the other drinks. He then decided being under the blankets was too warm, after the bath, and kicked them off and they ended up sideways.

Max came back with the unfinished bottles, glancing around slightly as he stopped before leaving Charles’s room. “Anything to eat? I mean…” Max trailed off as he looked at Charles. More so staring at Charles’s chest than doing or saying anything. Charles almost laughed, because Max had definitely seen him shirtless before. “You haven’t eaten. You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Charles replied simply, slightly brushing him off. It was true, Charles really wasn’t hungry. Even if he was, he’d be too scared he’d puke it right back up, so he was glad he wasn’t hungry. “I’ll let you know if I get hungry.”

“Ok. Yeah, that works.” Max said, ducking out of the bedroom to get rid of the bottles. He came back after a few minutes. “Do you want anything? At all? While you were in the bathroom I disinfected, well, everything out here. I could do it again later if you want to be in the living room or something. Also, you have a doctor’s appointment over the phone in about an hour.”

“I promise I’m fine in here, thank you for scheduling an appointment.” Charles murmured softly, looking to Max. He looked awkward, standing in the doorway. “It sounds more like you’re lonely out there. I’d invite you to hang out with me in here but I don’t want to get you sick. I’ll be fine if you leave, you don’t have to take care of me.”

“I know you clearly want me out of here, but I don’t want to leave until you eat. For my own sake of mind.” Max explained, and Charles hadn’t thought he’d made it seem like Max was unwelcome or anything, but it seemed like Max thought that way. “And you can’t really get me sick from the sickness I gave you. I have antibodies.”

“Doesn’t the flu mutate?”

“Well I’d take my chances,” Max casually said. “I also had my flu shot, so it didn’t hit me as hard as it’s hitting you. I feel really bad. For giving it to you.”

“You don’t have to take care of me because you feel guilty.”

“I’m taking care of you because I do care. The guilt is a secondary part of it.” Charles didn’t know what to make of it, he couldn’t really think without a headache in all honesty, so he decided to just nod along.

“Well, if you want to take your chances we could watch a movie.” Charles suggested, tiredly so. He wanted to sleep, but he didn’t think he’d be able to. He was a lot more worried about waking up with the need to puke again, when clearly he hadn’t been in the tub. “The bed is big enough for you to distance. Or you could bring in a chair.”

Max smiled and joined Charles, other end of the bed. Charles let Max pick the movie, because he doubted he’d really be paying attention. Just something to entertain him while his eyelids fluttered but he never fell asleep. Which was exactly what happened. If Max noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Charles didn’t even know what the first movie had been about. Before the second one Charles had his virtual doctor’s appointment, and it was short and easy, they’d prescribed Charles medicine. When the second movie started he tried to force his eyes to stay open, because he was just annoyed and frustrated. It got down to whenever Charles eyelids started to flutter shut he would drink his water or gatorade to stay hydrated.

It was like a game. It kept him awake, too, awake and hydrated. Max didn’t comment on this either, because he finished both the bottles. When he did Max had just silently gotten up, taken the empty ones and replaced them both.

“Merci, Max.” Charles mumbled as he cracked open the water bottle and took a sip. Max just nodded and sat back down. Charles couldn’t tell if he was further or imagining it, but he looked like he was at the edge of the bed. Charles didn’t say anything.

“Anything to eat?” Max asked in return, almost hopeful but not quite hitting the mark. Charles shook his head, and Max nodded, not saying anything else.

The rest of the day went by with movies, all which Max picked. Charles never got a nap, which frustrated him, but it meant he would hopefully sleep well tonight. Plus, he’d mostly been entertained when his eyes weren’t trying to shut, since Max had good taste in movies. He lost count of how many they watched, no more than three or four.

“I’m going to rummage around your kitchen for dinner. Can I interest you in any food? Please?” Max’s tone caught Charles a bit off guard, the pleading weaved in near the end. Charles really wasn’t hungry. “Crackers? I will run out, if you want something not from your kitchen. I don’t mind.”

“I’ll try to eat crackers.” Charles mumbled and Max was already leaving the room. He came back with a whole sleeve, and went to make his own dinner. He didn’t bring it in the bedroom, he’d eaten out there and Charles understood why Max wanted to hang around with him earlier. Probably meant he was feeling just a bit better.

When Max got back, Charles hadn’t touched the crackers. Hadn’t even opened the sleeve. Max somewhat sighed, and Charles tried to give him an apologetic look.

“Sorry. I know you want to leave or whatever, but I’m really not hungry.”

“I don’t want to leave, I just want you to eat.” Ok. That was different than what Charles was expecting. “Earlier you said you wanted me to leave. I thought you wanted me gone. So to get me to go, I just had to make sure you ate.”

“Oh. I thought you wanted me to eat so you could leave.” Charles mumbled and then laughed a bit. “I’ll try to eat tomorrow.”

“Okay. If you think you could eat anything at all, let me know.” Max said as he sat back in the bed. He offered Charles the remote, to choose, but Charles still declined. “With the flu you eat when you’re hungry and sleep when you’re tired. Drink always, though.”

“Oui, I know.” Charles murmured fondly. Max returned a soft smile. They didn’t make it all the way through the movie before Max left to pick up his prescription, and offered to get food, again. Charles had declined again. When Max got back, they got the medicine in him, even if Charles somewhat disliked swallowing pills. The pill wasn’t big, but it wasn’t exactly small, and that was enough to make Charles a tad anxious about it.

Charles didn’t know what time he fell asleep, but he woke up in the middle of the night tucked in and without Max beside him. Charles was happily surprised to find he wasn’t going to be sick, just a bit cold, and tugged another blanket up over him and went back to sleep.

It was probably six when he woke up. He’d slept, but not great. His eyelids were still heavy and he ran his hands over his face. Groggy and rolling over, he found the water bottle and gatorade were still in his bed from yesterday. Realizing he hadn’t even bothered with his nightstand was a bit embarrassing knowing Max had been with him.

Max had been with him. Where was Max? Charles was definitely the only person in his bedroom. A cough surprised him, and to ease his throat he drank what was left of the gatorade, which was warm but helpful. He managed to get to his feet, wandering out of his bedroom.

A lump under blankets on his couch told him where Max was. The fact he’d stayed surprised Charles just a bit, especially since the couch wasn’t a fun place to sleep. Especially when Charles had a guest room. He’d ask when Max woke up, until then, Charles curled up on the chair next to the couch, and went on his phone.

Max didn’t take long to wake up, or at least it didn’t feel like a long time. Though, Charles couldn’t say that accurately when he’d been scrolling on his phone. Time just didn’t pass the same when he got stuck in doom scrolling.

“Morning.”

“Morning—“ Max replied, cut off by a yawn. It amused Charles, for a reason he couldn’t place. “What time were you up? You could’ve woken me.”

“I dunno, you seemed peaceful.” Charles replied, and shrugged. Glad to find it was a bit easier to talk today, he smiled a bit more to himself. “I was not going to wake you up at six, either.”

“Didn’t sleep well?” Max asked as he sat up, blanket tangling sideways on his lap. Charles watched as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, tried to wake up by stretching out and sighing a bit as he did so.

“Slept fine, just not long.”

“Mm.” Max hummed, an acknowledgement more than anything. Charles stomach coiled, which had his face scrunching and placing a hand on his abdomen. Charles took a slow breath, watching Max immediately sit up, more alert, at the motions Charles had gone through.

His stomach rumbled. Max’s frame eased and he laughed. Not loud or anything, just a small chuckle that had Charles’s cheeks heating up. He should probably eat something, but he didn’t want to eat. Of course he was still scared he’d get nauseous again, and sick, again.

“Breakfast?” Max asked with a chuckle again, smiling as he looked to Charles. Small and barely there, but there nonetheless. Charles shrugged, trying to sink further into the chair.

“I don’t want to eat. What if I get sick again?”

“Uhm… what about a protein shake or smoothie or something?” Max suggested, and it didn’t sound all that bad. Charles figured he could stomach it, so he nodded.

“A smoothie sounds nice.” Charles mumbled, and Max nodded. Already up and moving around, and Charles realized he’d slept in his clothes from yesterday. How could he sleep in skinny jeans? That had to be insane.

“I’m gonna go out and get you one, I’m not sure if you have the stuff to make one here, and even if you did I wouldn’t trust myself to make you one that tastes good.” Max explained as he pulled on his shoes, and Charles was only nodding, still stuck on the fact he slept in skinny jeans.

“You could have borrowed pajamas. I would not have minded.” Charles muttered, gesturing to Max’s clothes. “Sleeping in that couldn’t have been comfy.”

“It was fine.” Max shrugged and Charles shook his head.

“You’re insane.”

“I’m normal.” Max countered loosely, smiling. “What kind of smoothie do you want?”

“Ehm…” Charles didn’t really drink smoothies, and he had to think. “Strawberry?”

“That sounds more like a question than an answer, Charles.” Max replied easily, pulled his jacket on and leaning on the back of the couch. “You sure? Just strawberry?”

“Ehm, strawberry banana.” Charles muttered, a bit caught off guard and trying to think. Strawberry banana did sound good. Max nodded, standing up properly.

“Well, I’ll be right back with one strawberry banana smoothie.” Max replied firmly, and started towards the door. While Max was out, Charles stayed planted in the chair. Under a blanket. And still very cold. He probably should have put a shirt on after getting out of bed. Hindsight. He definitely wasn’t getting up how.

Max wasn’t gone long, but far too long for Charles’s personal liking. He was happy getting back though, a donut in his mouth because he didn’t have anywhere else to put it to open the door. It made Charles chuckle, watching Max come in the front door with the donut sitting in his mouth, and another cup tucked into his arm.

“You didn’t get a bag or something with the donut?” Charles asked as Max walked in, and with the door now shut Max took the donut from his mouth.

“It was an after thought. Plus, I was eating it on the way.” Max replied, passing the smoothie to Charles, and having to crouch awkwardly to do so without dropping his cup. Charles gladly took the cup, his finger’s brushing Max’s. “Oh, you’re warm.”

“Merci. And I’m cold.” Charles returned and Max’s eyebrows raised as he set the cup on the coffee table and got a napkin to set his donut on.

“You’re cold.”

“Oui.”

“Fuck, you’ve probably got a fever.” Max mumbled slightly, glancing around. “I only checked your bathroom yesterday, you were kind of out of it. Do you have a thermometer?”

“Somewhere, I think.” Charles said after taking a sip of the smoothie. It was good, and he realized how hungry he was after the first sip. “Try the kitchen,” he added between sips, watching Max go to the kitchen and rummage around.

Charles wasn’t so concerned with it, definitely not as much as Max was, so he just sipped on his smoothie. After hearing what sounded like a sigh of defeat, Max came back with Charles’s medicine for him to take. Charles made a face at the pill and Max’s hand stayed outstretched with it.

“You took it fine yesterday.”

“Yesterday I felt shitty enough to resort to getting the medicine in quickly. Also it went down weird and now I’m a bit worried.” Charles countered and Max shook his head slightly, a weary but amused smile worn on his face.

“I could put it in yogurt for you.” Max offered bluntly, and Charles considered but ended up nodding. He was content to not speak and sip on his smoothie, watching as Max went back into the kitchen again. Max came back with the yogurt, which Charles ate, until he got a chunk of the medicine and it was so bitter it made his eye’s twitch and water a bit.

“Eugh, it is bitter.” Charles grumbled as he washed the taste away with his smoothie, sliding the half finished container of yogurt away from himself. Max slid it back, flat look on his face.

“You have to finish it.”

“But it is bitter!”

“Then next time you can swallow the pill.” Charles did not want to swallow the pill. Max’s hand pushed the container closer again. Charles picked it back up and ate the rest as quick as he could, just to get it over with.

“Not so bad, right?” As Max asked that, Charles was busy drinking his smoothie so he could get the taste out of his mouth.

“T'es chiant.” Charles muttered and slid the empty container away. Max smiled, in a triumphant way rather than the soft one’s he’d been giving Charles.

“Awfully mean to someone taking care of you, telling them they're annoying.” Max playfully chided, and it made Charles tilt his head. Had Max understood him? Charles was pretty sure Max didn’t know French.

“You understood?”

“You’ve gotten angry with enough people for me to know some French insults, yes.” Max replied with a chuckle and got up, taking the empty yogurt container to throw away.

“Who have I insulted around you?” Charles demanded more than asked, sitting up a bit to watch Max in the kitchen over the back of the chair. Max grabbed a water bottle and a gatorade and brought them back to Charles.

“Besides myself? Not many. Your brothers, but most of that is playful.” Max said simply, and Charles felt confused. He didn’t realize he did it enough for Max to pick up on it. “Let me get the empty bottles from your bed,” he added before dipping into Charles’s room.

Sipping his smoothie, Charles figured he’d have to start picking up on Dutch. But Max didn’t really speak it casually that much, as far as Charles was aware. He’d have to start paying more attention, at least once he wasn’t sick.

They spent the day lounging again, watching movies and random tv. Max tried to feed Charles lunch, but Charles only picked at some fries Max had gone out and gotten, ignoring the nuggets. Charles was eating lie a toddler, but it didn’t matter, because he was eating. According to Max, at least. Charles was also somewhat suspicious Max was so agreeable to the junk food because he wanted a burger and fries, which Charles watched him practically devour.

Charles, at some point in the afternoon, moved to the couch to nap, shamelessly putting his feet in Max’s lap because he was sick and didn’t care. When he woke up, he was uncomfortable and too warm, and kicked the blanket off with little care that it ended up in a ball on Max.

For dinner, Max made an oven baked pizza with stuffed crust, that actually sat pretty well with Charles. He’d been wanting it, and requested it, but had been a bit nervous about the sauce, and keeping it down. But all had been fine.

“You want any more?” Charles shook his head at Max’s question, he barely finished the two slices he’d been given and they’d been pushing it. “Kay, I’ll take your plate then.”

“Merci.” Charles mumbled as Max walked off. It was all so domestic, and it was just striking Charles. His mind was tumbling over random thoughts, about what if Max lived with him. All pleasant things, like cooking together, cleaning, eating meals. Max would be good to have as a roommate, not that Charles needed a roommate. Good to watch movies with, to annoy, to cuddle with and kiss—woah.

Charles physically stilled, because he didn’t know where that came from. Why was he thinking about kissing one of his best friends? Maybe he was running a fever again. Probably that. He thought it was hopefully just that, and then stopped again and forced himself to think probably.

“Max? Did you ever find the thermometer?” Charles asked, slightly called, to the kitchen. Max shook his head as he returned, quirking an eyebrow.

“Why? Do you think you’re running a fever again?” Max asked, walking over and putting the back of his hand to Charles’s forehead. His mind was screaming a lot of different things; the loudest of which were domestic and caring. “You don’t feel excessively warm. But it’s about time to take your flu medicine which should help if it’s a bit high.”

“No, I don’t have a fever, I don’t think I need the medicine—,” Charles immediately backtracked, sitting up slightly as Max was pulling his hand away.

“Nice try. Are you going to swallow it or do you want it in yogurt?” Max asked firmly, with no room for Charles to protest or complain or whine. Charles sighed. Too caring, if he was going to force him to take the medicine.

“Yogurt. But can you make sure there are no clumps. It’s bitter. S'il te plaît.” Charles mumbled as he started back for the kitchen.

“Yes, of course. Anything else your highness?” Max asked, stopping to look back at Charles. Charles shook his head, a bit pouty at the joke. Max came back with the yogurt, and made sure Charles ate it all, and replaced the empty water bottle and gatorade with fresh and took the trash.

The evening dragged by, and at some point Charles got a bad headache. He turned down the volume on the tv without much thought and closed his eyes but it didn’t really help and it was definitely a migraine and he worried it would only get worse. It was mostly just a dull ache, not terrible, but annoyingly persistent.

“Max.” Charles mumbled, kicking him with his foot. Max looked up, pausing the movie, eyes slightly wide.

“Is everything alright? Are you nauseous or need anything?” Max asked instantly, sitting up. Charles waved his hand dismissively, mostly to the nausea part of that question.

“I’m getting a migraine. Tue-moi, s'il te plaît.” Charles said, hearing the slight whine in his voice and ignoring it. Max had already turned off the tv, which made Charles pinch his eyebrows, and then he was up and turning off the lights.

“Do you want ice, for your head? I’m assuming more water.” Max replied, talking softer. Charles was caught off guard, because he definitely didn’t expect this when he’d told Max. Max was already in the kitchen, Charles thought he might wear a path into the floor from just how much he’d gone back and forth. He came back with the ice pack and water before Charles even replied, the ice pack wrapped in a cloth.

“I’m also pretty sure you just asked me to kill you, in French, which I will not be doing. Can ask for about anything else though.” Max said as crouched by Charles’s head instead of sitting back in his spot. Charles took the icepack and gently rested it a little above his eye.

“Mm,” Charles hummed, rearranging himself a bit. “Just a nap.”

“Do you want to go to your room?” Max asked, still squatted in front of Charles, a hand gently on Charles’s arm. Charles wanted to shake his head, but didn’t on account of the headache.

“Non. Too much work.” Charles mumbled and pulled the blanket up from where it was bunched around his calves. “Just sit with me? Maybe let me nap on you?”

“I can do that. Where do you want me?”

Charles paused and sat up, which Max tried to stop, but Charles just pulled Max down to where his head had previously been. Charles moved one of the pillows on the couch to Max’s lap, and just laid back down. Charles watched as Max just held his hands in the air, hovering awkwardly over Charles.

Instead of saying something more, Charles reached up and moved Max’s hands for him. It seemed like the easiest thing to do. He brought one of Max’s hands to hold the icepack, right above his eye, and his other hand to Charles’s hair. He curled up, tucked up under the blanket, and relaxed.

“Comfy?” Max asked softly, his hand gently running through Charles’s hair; gently and hesitantly. As if Charles hadn’t put Max’s hand there himself.

“Mhm.”

“Good,” Max murmured simply, “rest.”

When Charles woke up, it wasn’t quite morning. He was also in his bed, with no Max. He didn’t remember waking up and coming here, so at some point Max had to have carried him here. Which was quite the thought. The next thought was that Max had left.

That thought had Charles a little more awake. What if Charles had been to needy or demanding and Max left? He’d been eating, not great but enough, so Max had security Charles would eat if he left. Surely Charles was overthinking, but he got out of bed anyways and stumbled into the living room. Max was curled up asleep on the couch.

“Dors bein.” Charles mumbled even if Max couldn’t hear, pulling the blanket a bit higher on him. “Mon Max,” he added, barely a whisper, barely an admittance to himself.

Charles walked away from Max before he had any other bright ideas. He hadn’t been in his kitchen in two days, even if he’d been in the living room and seen Max moving around it. He got water, and didn’t know why he was lingering. Really, he could go back to bed. Really. He should.

He leaned back on the counter. The apartment was dark, and eerily calm. Silent except for Max’s breaths and his own. The fridge had a slight hum too. He took a sip of his water and went to set it down behind him, when his hand hit something. He turned, and in the dark he could only make out a box.

Picking it up, he made out the pattern of wrapping paper, though couldn’t see the colors. It was dark, after all. For a moment he wondered what it could possibly be, then had the genius idea to open the fridge just to see it in the light. The humming picked up slightly as the door opened.

In the light, dim but there, Charles saw red and green wrapping. A Christmas pattern, with his name scribbled on it in Max’s slightly scratchy writing. Charles, without much thought, opened it, only remember that delivering this was the only reason Max had came over in the first place.

He unwrapped it, and found a fancy looking box. Charles wasn’t sure what to make of it, and didn’t ponder, instead just flipping it open. A watch laid inside. Charles delicately picked it up, holding it under the light of the fridge.

It was fancy, that was for sure. More than Charles had paid for his old one, that was for sure. His old one, that he’d broken, and out off replacing. The same brand, the one he swore by. Just what looked like a newer model. Sleek and silver.

Charles barely even remembered mentioning he’d broke his watch to Max, just an off handed comment when he went to check the time and forgot he didn’t have a watch on his wrist. Max had fucking noted it. Which was very thoughtful, and kind of shocking.

He set it back in the box, and took the box back with him to his room. It went on his nightstand, and he tucked back under his blankets, prepared to thank Max nonstop in the morning.

The morning greeted Charles later than the past few days. He slept until eight, which was great compared to three and then six. He got up quickly, only because he woke up sweaty and felt gross and absolutely had to shower.

The shower was heaven and clean clothes were heaven. He put on the watch, of course, smiling and very giddy. In the main area of the apartment, Max was up and moving.

“Charles. You’re up. I have a small problem.” Max greeted, not casually but a bit worried. Charles tilted his head, brows pinching together. “I can’t find your present. I set it on the counter, and kind of forgot about it… because y’know, you’ve been sick—,”

“Max.” Charles cut him off, holding up his wrist. Max seemed relieved, at least initially. “Woke up in the middle of the night and found it. And it was for me. And it was already late.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine.” Max mumbled, his shoulders slightly easing. Not all the way though, still pulled just slightly up and close. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” Charles echoed with a fat smile. “Of course! It’s my favorite brand and a newer model—god, Max, I do not want to know how much you spent. Too much, I already know. Thank you. So much. Can’t believe you even remembered I needed a new watch,” Charles went on rambling, and Max didn’t do a damned thing to stop him.

“I’m glad you like it then.”

“Non—I love it, Max. Merci.”

Max’s smile stretched just a tad wider, and Charles couldn’t help but tackle him in a hug. Max stumbled at the impact but didn’t fall, catching Charles easily and holding him just as tightly back.

“Merci mille fois.” Charles echoed into the hug, yet another thanks. Charles wasn’t sure if Max would understand completely, but he knew merci, other than that Charles was pretty sure he only knew insults. “My thanks is not over, but I need breakfast,” he added, pulling back from the hug.

“I’ll make you whatever you’d like.” Max returned easily, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Charles would have to think about what he wanted, but he just gave Max a smile.

“You’re very generous, Max.”

“Mm. Just for you, lief.”

They’d just finished lunch. Max was cleaning up the dishes, and Charles had been very insistent that he’d help, but Max was stubborn too and insisted his moral support was enough. In the end Charles threw away some trash but couldn’t help with the dishes.

“All clean. More movies?” Charles asked, eyebrows raised. Max’s content look faltered slightly and that meant something was off. Charles stared more insistently and waited for whatever Max was going to say.

“I have a meeting at one thirty and it’s a bit far.” Max explained and Charles sighed. Once Max left, he probably wasn’t coming back. He hadn’t even meant to stay this long in the first place, so Charles supposed he should be grateful he got as much of Max’s time as he did. Instead he just felt disappointed.

“You have to leave soon.” Charles said, technically a question but it didn’t come out like one. It came out as an acknowledgment he wasn’t happy about.

“Probably should’ve left ten minutes ago. But it’s fine, ten minutes won’t kill them.”

“Max. You’re gonna be late because of me! I’ve gotten you in trouble.” Charles complained and Max chuckled. “You should go, then. Laissez-moi tranquille.”

“What did you say?” Max asked curiously, as he moved towards the door to get his shoes and coat. Charles grabbed his keys, which he left stranded on the table in the living room, and walked over to him with a sigh.

“Complaining about being alone.”

“Dramatic.” Max returned and Charles shrugged. Max gestured for his keys but Charles didn’t want to give them up, even if he wasn’t already late. “Charles?”

“Hm?” Charles hummed innocently, raising his eyebrows. Max reached for them and Charles moved his hand away, smiling. They danced around each other like this a few moments, and Charles had to resort to taking a few steps back, making Max have to meet him each time. It had worked until he hit the wall.

“No where to go?” Max asked, mocking almost, and Charles simply wore his smile. Max stepped closer again, right into Charles’s space. “You’re definitely feeling better,” he said lowly before snatching his keys.

Charles would have protested more if his brain hadn’t of buffered by the proximity. And intense eye contact. Max’s eyes were blue and very easy to get stuck on. Charles would’ve stared a while if he could’ve, not that he’d admit it out loud, but Max was already heading out.

“I’ll text later, yeah?” Max said as he opened the door. He stopped, pausing, looking back over his shoulder at Charles. “So you’re not so lonely,” he muttered before the door shut.

Charles very audibly exhaled. In doing so, he realized he had to get his shit together. What the fuck had he just done? He’d tried to keep Max here, when he was already late for a meeting. He hadn’t been thinking. He needs to get a grip.

Charles didn’t get a grip. He lasted about an hour after Max left, before he was googling what lief meant in English. Turns out, it could mean a variety, but most commonly used to mean sweet. Charles didn’t know what to make of that. Especially when google told him there was a difference between lief and liefje, liefje being a more romantic version of the term.

Charles was not disappointed Max hadn’t said leifje. He was totally normal about it. Completely normal and not disappointed. It made sense for Max to use the version of the term that could be used for friends. That made the most sense, actually. It would be more insane for him to use the romantic version.

The tv was on, something Charles had picked, but he wasn’t paying it any attention. At all. He needed to be normal about Max, really he was trying to convince himself he was. While what was actually happening felt like years of ignored feelings were rearing its head on him.

Charles didn’t know when it went from something friendly to something more than so. But having Max constantly around the past few days definitely brought it to light. He definitely wanted Max around, constantly.

“I am losing it.” Charles muttered to himself, flopping back in his couch. He decided to take a nap. He was still catching up on sleep after the two nights of light and poor sleep. He didn’t fall asleep fast, but once he was out he was out.

Knocking. No—banging. Charles was groggy and someone was banging at his door. He was a little mad about being woken. When he opened the door, he didn’t expect Max.

“You’re back?” Charles asked and Max chuckled just a bit. Like Charles was supposed to know. But Charles was lost, and half convinced he was dreaming. Instead of pinching himself, he dug the nail of his thumb into the pad of his pointer finger. Definitely real.

“I texted. Did you not see?”

“I was asleep.”

“Ah.” Max said, like that explained everything. That did not explain why he came back. Had he just wanted to? “Well are you gonna let me in? In the text you didn’t see I said I was picking up dinner,” Max raised a to go bag, “from your favorite place down the street. It’s gonna get cold.”

Charles immediately stepped aside. They sat at Charles’s island in the kitchen and dug in, because Charles was hungry, especially now that the smell of the food filled the space.

“Did you come back just for dinner?” Charles asked, after having eaten a few bites. His favorite place and his favorite order. Charles was pleasantly surprised, to say the absolute least.

“Couldn’t have you lonely.” Max reasoned, and Charles couldn’t tell if it was playful or serious. Max was just like that most of the time, but Charles had thought he’d known him long enough to have a good eye for it. Not right now, though, and it may or may not be driving Charles just a tad crazy.

“I was joking. I wasn’t trying to guilt you.”

“Well. Yes you were.” Max countered immediately, but smiled as he did. “But you’re still sick. So I don’t mind hanging around and I don’t mind being guilted.”

“I’m much better today. Mostly just a stuffy nose.”

“I’ll be taking care of you and your stuffy nose then.” Max replied simply and Charles swore his heart was doing weird things in his chest.

“Merci,” Charles mumbled a bit quickly and went back to his food. Though staring at his food, he could see Max giving him a look from the corner of his eyes. Questioning; intrigued. Charles didn’t look up. The rest of their meal was mostly quiet, not awkwardly but quiet nonetheless.

“Your medicine.” Max said as soon as they both were done. Charles sighed, very dramatically, but Max didn’t care. Charles cleaned up their dinner while Max broke open the pill and stirred it into yogurt. He made sure Charles’s water was nearby, so he could chase away the bitterness.

“I like when you’re not playing nurse.” Charles grumbled as he took the yogurt, trying to take quick spoonfuls, to finish it as fast as he can.

“I like when you’re healthy.” Max countered and Charles half glared as he finished the yogurt. He chased it with the water, and got rid of the empty container. “Not so bad.”

“A bit bad.”

“Dramatic.” Max lightly chided, moving past Charles. They settled on the couch, again, but weren’t quick to put on a movie or anything of the sort.

“Are you staying again tonight?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“I’d like that, oui.”

“Might as well make a habit out of sleeping on your couch.” Max said with a smile, leaning back into the couch. It was smug, in a way, but his smile was a bit dorky and it all balanced out.

“You know I have a guest room? I can make up the bed in there for you. So you don’t have to sleep on the couch.” Charles gestured loosely to the room, opposite side of the apartment as his. “The couch can’t be comfortable.”

“I don’t mind the couch. It’s closer. That way if you get sick in the middle of the night I’ll be able to hear. And help.” Charles didn’t know how to take Max’s reply, other than having to physically stop himself from sputtering. It felt like Max’s eyes were crawling over him as he forced himself to take a breath.

“I haven’t gotten sick in two days. I think I’ll be fine.” Charles reasoned, or tried to. Max had a look on his face, set still and stubborn, and Charles was guessing he wasn’t getting far.

“The couch is fine.”

“You should be sleeping in a bed, Max. Tu es têtu.” Charles grumbled and Max looked amused. There was a chance he knew the word stubborn, if it’s true what he knew in French was from hearing Charles argue.

“For my own sake of mind, let me sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Charles conceded, because Max simply wouldn’t. They chatted about nothing for a while, put on a movie Charles didn’t really pay attention to. After it, they decided they should go to bed.

Charles went through his nightly routine, not much but enough to allow him to linger before getting in bed. Which he rightfully wanted to avoid, because he couldn’t fall asleep. His mind was too busy, racing and turning, consumed by thoughts. All about Max.

Max and how caring he is. How this side of him might really be reserved for Charles. How much he sees Charles. How badly Charles is gone, and what the fuck he should do about it. He didn’t come up with anything good. When he caved in and checked the time, it’d been nearly two hours.

Charles was frustrated, and wandered out of bed. He thought he might try warm milk or something of the like, but knew that was a bullshit idea as soon as he got near the kitchen. He ended up in the living room, sitting on the floor, right near Max’s head. A bit creepy, but he was asleep and wouldn’t know.

And this allowed Charles to watch in the silence of the night. The silence beside their breathing and the low him of the fridge. Charles sat there a while. Thinking and not at the same time, mostly just staring at Max. He was peaceful when he was asleep.

He let his head fall against the couch. Max stirred, blinking slowly. Charles hadn’t meant to wake up, but whatever. They could suffer together, now.

“Charles? You should be in bed.” Max mumbled into his pillow, and Charles smiled softly. Of course he wasn’t worried about the fact Charles had been sitting here and watching him—which he probably should be—but rather why Charles wasn’t in bed in the first place.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Charles replied simply and Max rubbed at his eyes. “You were asleep, but I wanted company. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, you’re fine.” Mac murmured as he sat up slowly. “You should be sleeping, though. Anything I can do to help?”

“Mm, no.” Charles said, and Max kind of got a defeated expression on his face. It was sweet he wanted to help. “Unless you wanna come cuddle with me?” Charles joked, giggling softly.

“I wouldn’t say no to a good time,” Max joked back, but he was also getting up. “C’mon, back to bed,” he muttered, offering Charles a hand up. Charles took his hand, and let Max lead him back to his own bedroom.

To Charles’s surprise, they both curled up in his bed. He wasn’t complaining, though, not by any means. Maybe if he just made moves on Max when he was half asleep he’d actually get somewhere, because he’d just gotten somewhere pretty good. This time, he did fall asleep.

Charles woke up to Max. His head on Max’s shoulder and Max’s arm around him. His legs were also half draped over Max. Warmth bloomed in his chest, and despite himself he shifted closer. Charles needed this to be every morning, but that was unlikely.

“Morning,” Max rasped, arm wrapping around Charles a bit tighter. Charles hummed, to lazy to even say the words good morning back to Max. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m glad I could be of help then.” Max murmured, a slight chuckle accompanying his words. Charles smiled. He didn’t know at what point they ended up cuddling, let alone like this, but he was happy about it.

“Last night. I dragged you in here. Désolé.” Charles muttered into Max’s shoulder. His hand started moving up and down Charles’s back, a soothing motion that Charles gladly savored.

“No need to be sorry if I went willingly,” Max countered. Neither of them moved a moment, comfy and still tired. “You make a good blanket.”

Charles chuckled slightly, the joke nothing special but landing anyway in the sleepy haze of the morning. “Oui. I quite enjoy this,” Charles replied before he thought about his words. He didn’t even think about the, after he spoke them.

“Being my blanket specifically or just cuddling up with me?” Max asked. Now Charles realized he should have filtered his mouth. Instead, it was saying whatever came to his brain. It still was, acknowledging he needed a filter didn’t give him one.

“Cuddling.” Right. Charles just admitted that. How can he backtrack? He was too tired to come up with any real thoughts, and it was actually going to be the death of him. Max was going to think he was weird or something and leave.

“I like it too.” Charles let out a relieved breath. Okay, Max wasn’t going to leave. There was a nonzero chance Max thought he was weird, still, but Charles could live with it. “Do you plan on staying today too?”

“You really want me around? You’ve not gotten sick of me?” Max questioned easily, an airy tone that told Charles he had a smile without having to look.

“Non. I don’t think I could get sick of your company.” Charles really should get up, and get caffeine, and filter his mouth. He did none of those things, instead tugging the blankets up further until it was tucked right under his chin.

“I’m glad.”

Charles didn’t think much on Max’s reply, he took it and its soft tone and tucked it away to think about some other time. Right now, he decided he could pry a little. Charles had the feeling Max was just like him right now, too tired to care about what he was saying.

“Why’d you stay and help me. When I was sick. You really didn’t have to do that.” Charles asked, but it didn’t quite come off as a question. It sounded like an acknowledgment that expected an explanation. Not demanding, just there.

“I told you. Because I care.” Max mumbled but Charles didn’t find himself satisfied. He wanted to know the extent, and didn’t really know how to ask.

“Yes, but… most people who care about me wouldn’t. They’d see me puking, help yes, but not stay for what, three days?” Charles tried to piece it together as he spoke it, which wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t dare now though, he kept his eyes peacefully closed and his face tucked in Max’s shoulder and waited for a response.

“If the roles were flopped, would you have stayed three days?”

“Yes.” Charles replied.

“Then it doesn’t matter what anyone else would do. We’d do the same for each other.” Max said, oddly profound for the early morning. Charles wasn’t satisfied, though, Max was dancing around any firm answer just as Charles danced around asking a firm question. He supposed he’d have to bite the bullet, though, Max certainly wasn’t going to.

“But it isn’t normal.” Charles tiredly insisted, rubbing at his eyes. “Tell me what it means.”

Max was quiet for a good minute. Maybe two or three. This demand was quite high, and Charles started to wonder if Max was going to try and find a way to worm out of answering. It was always a possibility, he’d probably find a way considering he could do it with just about any question from a journalist or reporter.

“It means…” Max trailed off, not committing to whatever he had in mind. More silence followed but Charles didn’t push, he also didn’t concede, he just waited. “Means I like you. That I wanna stick around. If you’ll have me.”

Charles smiled. Big and goofy, but Max probably couldn’t see it because of the covers and where his head was lying. “I’ll gladly have you, Max. I like you too. More than reasonable.” Max let out a breath. Charles chuckled just a tad.

“Once you’re back to perfectly healthy, I’ll take you out?” Max suggested, nerves laced in his tone despite the fact Charles just admitted to returning the feelings. It wasn’t lost on him they kind of did in a juvenile fashion—saying they like each other. It didn’t matter, it was perfect for them.

“That’d be lovely, Max.” Max, after a hesitant moment, pressed a kiss to the top of Charles’s head. It was very clear to Charles how much he loved this and wanted to chase it, the warmth in his chest and slight cloudiness in his head because Max seemed to jumble it a bit. “I’d quite enjoy it.”

“Mm. Then it’s a date.”