Archive of Our Own

Oscar ended up having a “serious talk” with Mark, Charles, and Max when he was big again. Which– Seriously, who allowed them to team up? That can’t be allowed.

Either way, they weren’t very happy that no one knew Oscar was a little. Something about safety, even though Oscar was great at keeping himself safe and cared for! He doesn’t need anyone coddling him.

“Zhou is allowed to regress independently,” Oscar points out. “I don’t see how this is different.”

“Zhou has a much older headspace than you do, mon cher,” Charles responds gently. “He’s old enough to take care of himself, and even then it’s still recommended that he have a caregiver anyway. He also did not hide it from everyone. If he is regressed and needs help, he goes to someone he trusts. He has people to rely on that know he is a little. You do not."

Oscar purses his lips, unconvinced.

“No one is mad at you, Oscar. We’re just asking that you come find one of us if you need help when you’re feeling small, yeah? That’s all,” Mark says coaxingly.

“I don’t need to,” Oscar replies, crossing his arms. “I’m fine on my own, without someone coddling me. Thank you for watching me yesterday, but you didn’t need to do that.”

Max lets out a sigh. They’ve been going back and forth for an hour by now, and Oscar is just as stubborn as ever. “Okay, we won’t pester you about it. But, just know that you can go to any of us if you’re regressed and want someone there with you, alright? You don’t have to do it alone if you don’t want to.”

“...Okay,” Oscar agreed, and they left it at that. 

—

Of course, instead of taking any of them up on their offer, Oscar spent the next few months staunchly avoiding regressing at all costs– and avoiding the three of them as well.

Avoiding Mark was a little awkward, considering how closely they work together, but Oscar kept things mostly professional the entire time and basically acted like a cornered animal every time regression was even vaguely brought up.

Avoiding Max and Charles was much easier in comparison, even if the two of them tried their hardest to corner him whenever they could.

Oscar has mostly come to terms with his regression by now, sure, but he really doesn’t trust himself not to immediately run to any of them if he slipped. He doesn’t need anyone, even if he really wants it– he won’t let his brain trick him into taking more than what he deserves.

Sure, avoiding regression altogether probably wasn’t the best for his health, but that’s a sacrifice Oscar was willing to make– even if it makes him a bit… irritable.

He doesn’t want to be mean, is the thing, and he’s really trying his best not to be. But not regressing means a buildup of stress on his mind and body, which can make him a little snappish. He tries to keep it to a minimum and always apologizes after, feeling incredibly guilty about it. It’s not their fault that he has issues.

He just needs to make it to the winter break, when he can go home and he’ll be able to regress as much as he needs without risking himself deciding to be clingy for no reason.

It was coming up to the last few races of the season, and by now Oscar’s got his whole avoidance strategy down pat. Which is why he was a bit surprised when he ducked into some random room in-between interviews to hide from Charles and found Max already in there, seemingly waiting for him.

He glances between Max and back at the door, weighing his options. Bolting back out absolutely confirms that he’s been avoiding them, and runs the risk of getting caught by Charles instead. But staying in a room with Max means staying in a room with Max.

“Oscar! Come sit,” Max says, patting the seat beside him and taking the decision out of Oscar’s hands.

Reluctantly, Oscar makes his way over and awkwardly sits next to Max.

He doesn’t make eye contact, instead opting to stare at the floor. He feels guilty, which is stupid– he’s going these stubborn caregivers a favor, they just won’t take the hint. 

“I’m not mad at you,” Max says soothingly, which isn’t– Oscar doesn’t care if he’s mad at him, okay? That doesn’t– that doesn’t make him feel better. It doesn’t.

“You were a bit mean to Lando earlier,” Max muses, sitting back in his chair.

“I know,” Oscar mumbles. “I apologized after. He didn’t deserve that.”

“I know you did,” Max replies. “But it’s starting to become a pattern.”

He turns to face Oscar, even if Oscar won’t look back. “I know what it looks like when someone isn’t regressing,” he says. “It’s fine that you don’t want to ask me, Charles, or even Mark for help, but why haven’t you been regressing at all?”

“I…” Oscar trails off. He doesn’t continue, fidgeting with his hands in silence.

He feels like he’s going to throw up, to be honest.

“...Can I take a guess?” Max asks quietly.

Oscar shrugs.

“I think you feel like it’s some sort of personal failure if you let us help you,” Max says. “That you think you have to be independent and handle everything alone in order to prove yourself. That the thought of being vulnerable like that in front of someone else is something to judge yourself for.”

Oscar stays silent, practically holding his breath, so Max continues, “I get it. I’ve felt the same way– I’m still working on it, even.”

“How?” Oscar blurts out incredulously, glancing back up at Max. “You aren’t forced to become a toddler all the time. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Maybe not,” Max agrees, “But I’ve been in a similar position. Back when I first joined F1, I felt like part of proving myself to everyone meant that I couldn’t let anyone help me with anything, even with the emotional side of things. It took a while to let myself lean on other people for support. I know it’s not the same, but I want you to know that no one thinks you are less capable if you let someone help.”

Oscar’s gaze darts away again. “It’s not just that, though,” he admits. “I don’t… I don’t want you guys to think that you have to, you know? I really am capable of taking care of myself, so whatever obligation you feel you have, you really don’t.”

Max stares at him for a moment, causing Oscar to fidget nervously. “It’s not about obligation,” he says bluntly. “We had to fight half the grid just for the chance to take care of you.”

“...What?”

“Do you not remember?” Max asks curiously. “When everyone found out you regressed– we were all stealing you from each other, trying to keep you to ourselves.”

That’s what that was?

Oscar's mouth drops open as he stares at Max in shock, so Max takes that as a sign to keep talking, "Really, the only reason Mark let us split custody at all was because Charles and I spent an hour trying to convince him."

He looks Oscar in the eyes. "I promise you, none of us are offering this because we think we 'have to.' We all care about you, and we want to be the ones to take care of you."

Oscar just stares, mentally reeling from the new information.

He really didn't think much of it, back when he was regressed around the paddock. He was just… going with the flow, following his friends around and having fun. He didn't know they were trying to take care of him. Why…

He doesn’t understand.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” Max says gently. “It doesn’t have to be ever, if that’s what you really want. All I want is for you to be safe and happy. Keeping yourself from regressing isn’t healthy, and it’s hurting both you and the people around you. You don’t have to let yourself be taken care of, but you need to take care of yourself, too.”

For a while, the two of them sit in silence.

Oscar’s a bit glad for that, because he really needs time to process. He knows he’s being stupid by not letting himself regress, but the thought of being vulnerable like that, even while alone, was too much. He knows he’d just spend the whole time venting out the emotions he won’t let himself feel, and he dreaded it.

The thought of someone taking care of him when he was like that– he wanted it more than anything, but it simultaneously made him feel like throwing up.

But something about Max made him feel like it would be okay, as scary as it was.

Oscar takes a deep breath in. “...Okay.”

“Okay?” Max asks.

“We can– we can try,” Oscar decides, staring determinedly at his hands and nowhere else. “But, um… just you, though. Charles and Mark would be too much, I think.”

“We don’t have to,” Max reassures him. “It’s okay, you don’t need to feel pressured to do anything before you’re ready.”

“I want to,” Oscar says. “I’m just– scared. But I still want to.”

“You’re sure?”

Oscar nods, even though his hands are shaking.

Max smiles at him gently. “Okay. When are you thinking?”

“Umm…” Oscar trails off, thinking. “Maybe during winter break?”

“That is good!” Max replies. “Would you like to do it at your apartment, so that you are somewhere familiar? Do you think that would help?”

That’s a good idea, since Oscar is pretty sure he might have a breakdown either way. Better to do it somewhere he feels more comfortable. He nods.

"Thank you, Oscar," Max says, which Oscar thinks is kind of weird. 

Max stands, then, giving Oscar a friendly pat on the back. "I will see you then. And stop avoiding us, yeah? Charles misses you.”

He doesn’t give Oscar enough time to respond, making his way out and leaving Oscar to stare at the floor as he thinks about what he just agreed to.

—

The rest of the season passes by much faster than Oscar would like. Him and Max talked a bit more about their plans the closer it got to winter break, but no amount of talking it over is able to stop the amount of nausea Oscar feels the day Max is supposed to come over.

He tries to channel his nerves into something productive, so he ends up spending the entire morning deep cleaning his apartment while he prepares for Max to arrive.

He’s about to start cleaning out his oven when he finally hears the door knock. He hastily drops his cleaning supplies onto the counter before making his way over to the door and letting Max in.

“Sorry– um, come on in,” Oscar says, allowing Max inside and following behind him as Max toes off his shoes and raises an eyebrow at the bottle of all-purpose cleaner on the counter.

“Looks nice,” Max comments sincerely. “You didn’t have to clean it all up just for me.”

Oscar laughs awkwardly. “I really did, mate, it was awful.”

Max chuckles as well. “Ah, well, you should see mine,” he jokes. “If you thought your apartment was bad…”

Oscar smiles and does try his best to appear relaxed, but somehow Max can see right through him. His face softens.

“Your hoodie’s all wet– do you want to change into some comfier clothes? Maybe you can show me your toys after?”

Oscar really feels much more like vomiting directly onto the floor he had just mopped earlier, but instead chooses to nod and lead Max further into his apartment, motioning for him to sit down on the couch.

“Um, I’ll go change, I’ll be– right back,” he says, before quickly retreating to his room. 

He lets out a deep breath as soon as the door closes, trying to get himself to calm down. It’s just Max. Max is his friend, Max is nice, everything will be fine, and if he doesn’t like it he can just kick Max out of his apartment and they never have to talk about regression ever again.

He’s not sure if Mark would be very proud of how often he has to use the breathing techniques he taught him.

Once he finally gets a grip on himself he makes his way over to his closet and begins to rummage through it, debating what to wear. Would Max want him to wear something cute, like those over the top outfits littles wear on TV? Maybe a onesie? Or would that come across like he was trying too hard?

He can’t take too long deciding, though– he doesn’t want to keep Max waiting. What if he gets impatient and leaves?

He needs to make up his mind. Quickly, he just grabs the clothes he normally wears when he regresses, another comfy hoodie and some sweatpants and changes into them before grabbing his toybox, a big plastic storage bin, and hauling it back to the living room. 

Max was right where he left him, looking around at the apartment in a way that made Oscar’s stomach twist, but he pushes it aside.

He puts the bin down on the carpet. “...My toys,” he says, gesturing to them awkwardly.

“They look very cool,” Max says genuinely. “Do you want to play with them right now? What do you usually do to get yourself into headspace? It is all completely up to you, bud.”

Oscar fidgets with his sleeves for a moment. “Uhm, I usually watch some cartoons for a bit, just to get myself… all the way regressed. But usually before I make sure to make some food for myself so I don’t have to try to make anything when I’m little.”

Max nods. “That is very smart. Do you want to make yourself some food for later, then? We can make some together or I can make you food when you’re hungry.”

Oscar shifts on his feet uncomfortably, thinking it over. He wants to make the food now, he doesn’t want Max to do it, but he also said that he would try to let Max take care of him, and if he insists that he does everything himself then he isn’t really trying.

"Uhm, I guess you can make it later," Oscar agrees.

Max smiles reassuringly. "If you are sure. Do you have a specific food you eat?"

Oscar shakes his head. "Just whatever is fine. I don't really mind."

Max hums, and then pats the couch next to him. "Would you like to sit, then? You say you usually watch cartoons first, yes?"

Oscar nods and sits down, taking the opportunity to stop standing in front of Max awkwardly as soon as he could. He was starting to feel like he was putting on a show, or something.

He grabs the remote, quickly navigating his way to what he usually watched and hitting play.

The familiar sound of Blinky Bill starts playing, and Oscar tries to make himself comfortable against the couch.

He tries to focus on the show, he really does, but he spends more time watching Max watch it than actually watching it himself. Too busy being worried that Max wouldn't like it to be able to comfortably watch it.

Maybe he just needed to get into a more comfortable position. He shifts around some more, trying to get Max out of his line of sight, but then the thought of not being able to see Max or his facial expressions freaked him out enough that he shifts around again.

He can't sit still. Nothing seemed comfortable enough, and he could tell that he was getting lost in his own head, but he wasn't able to stop it.

Max, for better or for worse, seems to notice. "You alright, mate?" he asks him, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, just, um–  can't get comfortable, is all," Oscar admits, shifting on the couch again. 

Max hums consideringly. "It may not work, but I know when Carlos is restless, he usually needs one of his stuffies. Maybe…"

Oscar cuts him off with a soft gasp. "I forgot Puppy," he realizes, immediately getting up and running into his room.

Thankfully, the tan dog plushie is still on his bed where he left it this morning, so he quickly grabs it and skids through the hallway and back onto the couch.

"Woah! That was very fast," Max remarks, and Oscar can't tell if he's teasing him or not. "Who is this?"

"Oh. This is Puppy," Oscar answers awkwardly. "...His name is kinda dumb, I know."

"I don't think it's dumb. It suits him, yes?" Max says.

Then he looks at Puppy directly. "Hello, Puppy. It is very nice to meet you," he greets kindly. 

Oscar holds Puppy out to him across the couch, and Max reaches out and shakes his paw. Then he tucks Puppy back against his chest.

"Want to go back to your show?" Max asks, holding the remote. 

Oscar nods, bringing his knees up and tucking the bottom half of his face behind Puppy.

They watch a few episodes in silence, and Max is being a surprisingly good sport about it. He at least seems to be watching the show, and Oscar hasn't seen him check his phone once. He doesn’t know if Max is genuinely interested in the cartoon or if he was just trying to make Oscar feel more comfortable.

But… watching cartoons gets a bit boring after a while, and Oscar's not immune to getting a little restless. He wants to start playing with his toys, but that means he would have to tell Max that he's done watching TV.

Max seems really interested in the show, though– maybe he doesn’t want to stop watching it. Or maybe he's actually really bored and just waiting for Oscar to tell him he's done. Or maybe he doesn’t mind either way but Oscar doesn’t know if that's true and he doesn’t know how to bring up that he's done now and he doesn’t know how to do any of this, and he's scared.

Even still, Max has always been nice to him, even when something happens on the track, so it's not like he would be outright mean to Oscar, not over a cartoon.

Even if Oscar's brain is very much convinced that he will be.

Oscar likes Max. He's pretty sure Max won't be mean to him just because Oscar wants to do something else. He's pretty sure that if Max was mean to him over a cartoon, then Max wouldn't be someone Oscar would want to stay friends with anyway.

This is the first time Oscar has purposefully regressed with Max. Maybe it's best if he figures out what the boundaries are now, instead of finding out after he gets too attached to the feeling of being cared for.

It's still scary, though. Oscar has to be brave.

"...Max," Oscar prompts quietly, just barely audible above the TV. "Can we do something else now?"

Max looks back over at Oscar, and he doesn't seem upset. "You are all done with the TV?"

Oscar nods, and Max reaches over and pauses the show like it's nothing. "Alright, do you have any ideas of what you want to do now?"

"Um…" Oscar trails off, staring at his bin of toys. He can vaguely see a coloring book sticking out, a Cars themed one that Logan got him for his birthday a few years ago.

He makes up his mind. "Coloring?"

Max smiles kindly. "Sure, that sounds fun. What coloring stuff do you have?"

Oscar gets up and kneels next to his toybox, carefully taking out his crayons and coloring books. He lays them all out on the coffee table, scrutinizing each one as he figures out which he wants to use today.

“Oooh, you have a big collection,” Max says from beside him, and Oscar looks over to see that he’d gotten down to kneel next to him. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Oscar agrees. “Which one d’you want?”

Max hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know… can you pick for me?”

Nodding, Oscar takes a moment to decide which coloring book Max would like the best. Maybe he could let Max use the Cars one? That one was Oscar’s favorite, so maybe Max would like it too. 

He gives Max the Cars coloring book, taking a safari-themed one for himself. He puts the box of crayons between them, and they both get to work on their respective coloring pages. 

Oscar grabs a soft yellow and makes sure to color carefully, not wanting to mess up the picture. It's a cute drawing of two lions playing, and Oscar wants to make sure to color it nicely so he can give it to Max.

Max meanwhile, seems to be scribbling all over his paper, which Oscar giggles at. He's not very good at coloring, it seems. He also made Lightning McQueen blue, which Oscar thinks is a bit silly.

Then again, it seems like Max is always a bit silly, and that's okay. That's part of why they're friends, after all.

Oscar finishes his drawing first, which is a bit surprising considering how sloppily Max was coloring last time he checked. When he looks over, though, he sees that Max is preoccupied by filling the entire background with random doodles of swirls, stars, cats, and any random shape that comes to mind.

Oscar’s picture, meanwhile, was a lot more neat, with what Oscar considered the accurate colors and noticeable effort to not color outside the lines.

He takes a moment to look between the two pictures. He doesn’t like using the “wrong” colors when he’s drawing, but he thinks that both of their drawings are cool, in their own way. He likes Max’s doodles and the way that he used whatever color he wanted, even if Oscar doesn’t like doing that on his own pictures.

Max seems to eventually notice that he’s staring, and puts his crayon down. “You done?” he asks, taking a peek at Oscar’s picture.

Oscar nods, pushing his picture over for Max to take a look at.

Max pushes his drawing over to Oscar in turn, then picks up Oscar’s drawing to look closer at it. “Wow, this is very good!” he praises. “Very pretty! I like your colors.”

He tries to hand the picture back to Oscar, but Oscar pushes it back at him. “For you.”

“For me?” Max repeats, looking surprised. When Oscar nods, his face breaks out into a grin. “Thank you very much. Am I allowed to put it on my fridge with Carlos’ drawings, too?”

Oscar hummed his agreement. The fridge was a really high honor for a drawing. He knew Max would like the lions.

“Here,” Max says, handing Oscar his own blue Lightning McQueen. “You can have mine, too.”

Taking it with wide eyes, Oscar scrutinizes Max’s drawing once more. He likes it a lot, not just because Max made it. He even signed his name on the bottom, like an actual artist!

“It’s very good!” Oscar says, rocking from side to side a bit. “I like– like your doodles. And the blue. ‘m gonna… put it on the fridge, also.”

Max smiles wide. “You are? I’m honored. I worked very hard on it.”

Oscar nods seriously. Max’s drawing deserves to go on the fridge. He gets up to do just that, using the coffee table to help him up. He toddles walks over to his fridge, with Max following closely behind. Not that he was checking, or anything.

He stands in front of the fridge when he realizes that there’s… a problem.

He can’t put Max’s art on the fridge.

He can’t put Max’s art on the fridge even though Max worked so hard on it and colored really well and doodled all these cool things on it and even signed it.

He starts to tear up, even though he really doesn’t want to. He just wanted to put Max’s drawing on the fridge, but he can’t, and–

“Woah, buddy, hey! What’s wrong?” Max gasps. “Are you okay?”

Oscar turns to look at Max, eyes brimming with tears that he tries viscously to scrub away.

“I– I don’t have any magnets,” he whimpers. “I can’t put your picture on the fridge, ‘m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! We don’t have to put it on the fridge,” Max soothes him, tentatively reaching a hand up to rub comfortingly on Oscar’s back.

Oscar hiccups, trying to push down his tears. “But– but– I want to put it on the fridge. It's really really good. It should– should go there.”

“Hmm, do you have tape, then? We could tape it to the fridge, instead,” Max offers softly.

“Yeah, um– in the junk drawer,” Oscar sniffs.

"Can you point it out for me?" Max asks, to which Oscar points to a random drawer off to the side, using his other hand to rub some stray tears off his face.

Max heads off to grab the tape, rummaging around in the drawer before coming back with a roll of clear tape. He smiles, offering it to Oscar. "Here, we can use this to put it up, yeah?"

“Thank you,” Oscar mumbles, taking the tape. He tries to rip a piece off, but ends up struggling enough that Max gently takes it from him and helps him rip it. He hands the strip of tape to Oscar, who gently attaches it to Max’s drawing before placing it on the fridge.

He steps back, analyzing his work before giving it a firm nod. “Good.”

“Yeah?” Max grins, giving him a quick side hug.

Oscar nods again. "Mhm. 'S where it should go."

"Thank you, buddy, it's perfect." Max ruffles his hair gently. "Would you like to color some more? Or we can do something else, anything you want."

Oscar shifts on his feet and diverts his gaze to the floor. "Um. Can we… I want to color something for Charles and Mark."

"Yeah?" Max asks.

Oscar nods. "To– um, apologize for avoiding them a bunch."

"Aw, kid," Max breathes, gently turning Oscar to face him. "Look at me, please. No one is mad at you for that, okay? You don’t need to apologize, they understand."

Oscar takes a deep breath in and out. "...Okay. But, I still want to make them something."

Max gives him another gentle smile. "Okay. We can make them some pretty pictures, yeah? I just wanted to make sure you know, okay? No one is upset with you, muisje."

"M'kay," Oscar agrees, and gently tugs Max’s hand, leading him back to the other room.

They settle back down at the coffee table, and Oscar begins flipping through the pages of his safari coloring book, trying to find the perfect picture.

"Max, does Charlie like elephants?"

Max hums thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think so!"

"But do you know so?" Oscar demands, which causes Max to huff out a laugh.

"No, I guess not. Would you like me to ask him?"

Oscar shakes his head. He wants it to be a surprise.

He continues to flip through the pages until Max stops him, pointing at a page with antelopes on it. "He likes those ones."

"The ant-lopes?" Oscar asks, to which Max nods.

"We watched a documentary about them recently."

Oscar nods firmly and smooths out the page to begin coloring. After a while, though, the weight of Max’s staring over his shoulder becomes too much. He knows Max doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s just watching him color, but he doesn’t like it.

Oscar glances over at Max for a second. Max is nice, he reminds himself. He wasn’t mean about wanting to do something else, earlier. He’s never mean to me, not really. He won’t be mean about this.

Quietly, “Max?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Can you– um. Not look? Makes me nervous,” he mumbles.

“Oh!” Max blinks and turns his eyes away from Oscar’s drawing immediately. “Yeah, of course! How about I start another picture of my own, yeah?”

He grabs his abandoned coloring book and starts a new drawing, and Oscar breathes a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t know how to thank him, not really. He settles for gently bumping their elbows together and going back to making Charlie’s gift.

—

Around 30 minutes later, and Oscar is on a roll. He’s gotten Charlie’s drawing finished, (even with some added glitter glue from a box of craft supplies that Max had found at the bottom of Oscar’s toy bin), and he’s gotten started on one for Mark. Max had finished up with his Cars coloring book and passed it over to Oscar at some point, so Mark’s gift was going to be a coloring of Lightning McQueen and Mater at a race track. Oscar thought it was really cool.

Max had disappeared at some point. He explained to Oscar what he was going to do, but Oscar wasn’t really listening, and by now he’s forgotten what he said.

So he doesn’t know where Max went. Or when he’ll be back.

He puts the final touches on Mark’s gift, before taking a look around the living room. Max really has been gone for a while…

Not that Oscar was worried, or anything! He doesn’t need anyone hovering over him when he’s regressed, and he doesn’t want it either. So he’s actually glad that Max has stepped away for a bit.

But Max is his friend, and he has been gone for a while… so it’s basically Oscar’s duty as a friend and a host that he goes to make sure Max hasn’t fallen off the balcony and died. For Max’s sake.

He carefully places Mark’s coloring next to Charles’ so that the glitter glue could dry, before shakily standing up and setting off on his quest to find Max.

It thankfully isn’t a very long search, and he quickly discovered that Max was in the kitchen, just out of sight of where Oscar was coloring.

Oscar pads over until he’s right behind Max. “What’re you doing?”

"Making lunch," Max answers simply. "Would you like to help?"

"Yeah." Oscar moves to stand next to Max, who steps to the side a bit.

"I am just cutting up the grapes right now, but you can put them on the plates so they look nice, yes?"

"Can I cut them instead?" Oscar asks, leaning over Max’s shoulder.

Max gives him a sympathetic look. "No, I'm sorry, moppie, but I think you might be a bit too small to use knives right now. We don’t want you getting hurt, yes?"

Oscar pauses. He's–

Max said he's too little. To use a knife. Too small.

He doesn’t know how to feel. Too small.

He's not a baby. He can use a knife. Max is being stupid and overprotective.

Irrationally, he can feel a bunch of unwanted emotions swirling up through his chest and clogging his throat.

He takes a deep breath, the way he does when he's big, and lets it out slowly. This is Max caring for him. He promised Max that he would try.

Max doesn't say anything the whole time, seemingly absorbed in cutting the grapes. Oscar knows better, knows that he's waiting to see how Oscar reacts.

Oscar breathes again. In, and out.

With shaky hands, he reaches out and begins putting the already cut grapes on the plates, making sure that they're in a little pile so that they don't touch any of the other food.

It seems like the grapes were the last part of lunch, with some trainer-approved crackers as well as ham and cheese sandwiches already resting on the plates.

Max picks up the plates. "Would you like to watch anything while you eat, bud?" he asks, bringing them over the table with a direct view of the TV.

Oscar shifts on his feet, still a little off-center from earlier. "Um… Sesame Street?"

Max nods and sets the plates down, and Oscar begins eating while he turns Sesame Street on for him.

"Thank you," Oscar murmurs, before taking a bite of his sandwich. It's really yummy.

The cheerful intro of Sesame Street begins, and Max gives him a quick hair ruffle before sitting down as well. "It is no problem, Oscar."

By the time he's done eating, Oscar is feeling a lot better. And also a bit bored.

He shifts in his seat. What does he want to do now…

Oh! He knows what would be fun!

He goes back to his little box, digging around until he pulls out a few tubs of play-doh.

He carries them back over to the table, moving his plate aside so he has room.

"What do you have there?" Max asks, still only halfway through his lunch.

"Play-doh," Oscar answers simply. "I'm gonna make a car."

"Oh, really?" Max hums, intrigued. "What kind of car?"

Oscar takes a look at the colors he has. Red, blue, black, yellow, and pink.

"A Ferrari," he decides.

"Oh? Like Charles'? Or Carlos'?"

"No, like Kimi Räikkönen's."

Max chuckles. "Oh, of course."

"Mhm," Oscar hums in reply, already focused on sculpting his Ferrari.

Formula One cars are really hard to make, but he thinks he gets the basic body shape right. He makes the wheels out of the black dough, and even makes a little helmet to put in the cockpit.

When he's done, he sits back to admire his creation. He tugs on Max’s sleeve as well, to make sure he sees it.

"Wow! That is very nice," Max says, finishing up with his food. "What are you going to make next?"

Oscar hums, studying the rest of his play-doh for ideas. While he thinks, Max grabs both of their plates to take to the kitchen.

Looking at the play-doh doesn’t give him any ideas of what to make, unfortunately. It does give him a different kind of idea, though.

He breaks off a piece of pink play-doh.

—

Oscar shifts in his seat for what is probably the millionth time, trying to focus on his newest play-doh creation, a little kitty.

Max, who was now watching him a lot closer than he was before his failed attempt at eating the play-doh, calls out to him. “Oscar, I think it’s time we take a bathroom break, yeah?”

Oscar pauses for a moment, before pointedly resuming what he was doing. “No, I’m busy. I don’t need to.”

Before long Max’s hand is on his back, gently urging to get up. “Just try, yes? You’ve been squirming a lot.”

”No,” Oscar replies sharply, irrationally feeling like he was going to cry. He doesn’t want to! He’s not a baby, he doesn’t need to be reminded to go potty! 

“Oscar.”

Oscar shakes his head rapidly, feeling the well of emotions from before flooding back into him. “No, no! I don’t need to! I’m not a baby! Go away!”

“No?” Max repeats, and something about his tone, soft and indulgent, caring, causes something in Oscar to burst.

Oscar starts to cry, big, uncontrollable, embarrassing sobs that he can't seem to keep in. He squeezes his eyes shut as he cries– he can’t bear to look at Max, to see him witnessing Oscar’s stupid and childish outburst.

"Woah, woah, hey, what's wrong?" Max's voice is right next to him now, and suddenly there’s a hand touching him–

Oscar flinches away from the sudden contact, impulsively flailing his arm out and hitting whoever was touching him in order to get them off. He only realizes his grave mistake when he realized he hit Max.

Max grunts and backs up quickly, which just makes Oscar feel even worse. He hit Max. He hit Max, he hurt him, Max is gonna be so mad at him, he didn’t mean to.

He’s crying he can barely breathe he’s gasping for air and Max isn’t touching him anymore and Max is gonna leave and never come back and Max hates him now because he hit Max.

He starts to cough from the force of his sobs, barely able to get a breath in as he practically hyperventilates. 

Max is saying something but he can barely make out anything, he just sits there and cries and cries as Max continues to talk until Oscar can finally hear what he’s saying. 

“–and Sassy, she does not like it very much when you grab her, and we always remind Carlos to be gentle with her but I think he just gets very excited to see her as she is usually hiding. So then he goes to grab her and she runs away and hides again, and he will be very sad but we remind him that he has to be gentle or else he will scare her away.”

Oscar hiccups as he tries to breathe, rubbing his eyes so that he can see Max more clearly. “I didn’t– Max, ‘m sorry, ‘m really sorry–”

Max looks back over at him, and for once it’s a relief to see the sheer amount of tenderness in his expression. “Oh, liefje, I know. You did not mean to. I should not have touched you without asking while you were upset. That was my fault.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Oscar whines.

Max shushes him gently. "I know, bud," he murmurs. "Do you want Puppy?"

Oscar nods, still sniffling. He does want Puppy. Puppy always helps him feel better.

Puppy is gently handed to him, and Oscar quickly scrubs his face free of tears before burying his face in Puppy’s well-loved fur. He takes deep, shaky breaths for a few minutes until he feels okay enough to look back up at Max.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles once more.

"I know, it's okay," Max tells him softly. "Do you want to talk about why you were upset?"

Oscar hunches over himself, clutching Puppy protectively against his chest. 

"I'm not–" Oscar hiccups, "Not a baby. 'M not."

"No one thinks you're a baby, Oscar," Max tells him softly. "I promise. I just want to make sure you go to the bathroom, just in case you forget later."

Oscar just sniffles again. "I d-don't want to," he whines.

"Why not?" Max asks.

“Cause- I didn’t like it. When you asked.” Oscar looks away again.

Max hums sympathetically. “Was it a bit overwhelming?”

Oscar nods.

“This is very new to you, so you’re going to get overwhelmed sometimes, and that’s okay, yeah? I’m here for you. You don’t need to be sorry for getting overwhelmed.”

“I’m sorry for hitting you, though,” Oscar mumbles.

“I know, and I don’t blame you, okay? Do you want help in calming down or would you like me to leave you alone until you feel better?”

Oscar feels his breath hitch and tears build in his eyes again. “Don’t leave,” he whimpers, not caring about how pathetic it makes him look.

Max scooches closer, still not touching him. “Okay, I’ll stay with you, then. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Oscar knows what he wants, knows what would help him, but he’s not really sure how to actually… ask for it. People assume he isn’t big on physical touch, but it’s really more complicated than that. He likes physical touch, but not when he isn’t expecting it. 

He also didn’t get a lot of it growing up, especially after he went off to boarding school. 

So he’s not very well-versed in asking for a hug.

He buries his face in Puppy’s fur again. Asking for things is scary. He doesn’t know how.

Max is very patient with him, just waiting for Oscar to figure out what to do, letting him go at his own pace.

Slowly, Oscar reaches out for Max. He grabs his sleeve and tugs on it, willing Max to get the hint. Read his mind, maybe.

Max makes a confused noise. “What is it?”

Oscar grumbles and pulls his sleeve harder, towards him.

Max takes a few seconds to figure it out before asking, “Oh! Would you like a hug, muisje?”

After Oscar nods shakily, he leans in and wraps his arms around Oscar. Oscar immediately buries his face in Max’s shoulder, soaking up the contact as much as he can. Max’s hugs are really nice, he decides. They make you feel warm and safe and honestly, if Oscar had a choice, he would never let go.

Oscar sits in Max’s arms and breathes. In, and out, in, and out, until he doesn’t feel shaky and gross anymore. And then for a little bit longer.

Max is really comfy. 

He shuffles in closer with a small sigh, then feels Max hum before adjusting his arms to pull Oscar even closer, practically in his lap.

He's practically falling asleep when Max gently pats his back to get his attention. "Schat," he murmurs, "are you ready to try going to the bathroom now?"

Oscar grumbles at the thought, clinging tighter. Max huffs a laugh in response.

"Come on," he urges gently. "You can take Puppy with you, yes?"

Reluctantly, Oscar moves to get up, taking Puppy with him. Max stands up as well, allowing Oscar to guide him to the bathroom.

The actual potty break is relatively painless, and it’s over before he knows it. Puppy keeps him company the whole time, and Max stands right outside.

Max also takes a turn after Oscar is done, so Oscar also makes sure to stand guard outside the door for Max like how Max did for him.

Max takes a really, really long time in the bathroom, and after a while Oscar starts to think that he actually died in there. What if he slipped and fell and hit his head? What if he drowned in the toilet? What if a murderer was hiding behind his shower curtain and killed him?

“Um… Max?”

“Yeah bud?”

“Did you die?”

Max chuckles from behind the door. “No, I’m almost out, okay?”

Oscar hums. “Okay.”

Sure enough, Max leaves the bathroom within the next few minutes. Even if he took a little long for Oscar’s liking.

Oscar grabs the end of Max’s shirt and leads him back to the living room.

His little fit took a lot out of him, and he doesn’t really know what to do when he gets back to the living room, so he just… stands there.

“You want to go back to your play-doh, hm?” Max asks.

Oscar clutches Puppy tighter in one hand and Max’s shirt in the other. He shakes his head.

“No?” Max questions. “What would you like to do, then?”

Oscar doesn’t know. He’s tired and he thinks he’s smaller than usual and making a decision seems like too much.

He pulls himself closer to Max and turns into him, basically pressing himself against the man’s side, basically willing that Max understands.

Max takes it in stride, wrapping an arm around Oscar and hugging him tight.

“You don’t want to decide?” He hums sympathetically, to which Oscar nods.

Max rubs Oscar’s shoulder soothingly. “Carlos is the same sometimes. Do you want me to choose, or do you want to sit for a bit?”

Oscar takes a moment to force his voice to work again. “...Choose, please.”

“Hmm… how does playing with your cars sound? You seem to have quite the collection, yeah?” 

Oscar nods, letting Max lead them back over to his little box. He watches Max grab the container with all his hotwheels and doesn’t help much as Max brings it over to an open spot to play.

They both sit down on the floor and Max opens the bin, gently fishing around inside to look at their options. “Would you like to pick your car?”

Oscar hums before grabbing an Aston Martin.

“Good choice,” Max comments, grabbing his own Red Bull. “Who is that?”

“Fernando,” Oscar replies, rolling his car back and forth along the floor.

“Would be cool if they made the older cars, yeah?” Max suggests. “Then you could have his Renault.”

“Mark’s car,” Oscar mumbles.

“Mark’s car too,” Max agrees.

Max pushes his car from side to side, sending it from one hand to the other. Meanwhile, Oscar is content to move his around in small movements.

Max starts setting the cars up to race, and Oscar sets his car alongside them.

“Carlos likes to recreate races,” Max explains. “Do you want to make your own? Or one that already happened?”

Oscar just runs his car into Max’s in response, liking the noise that they make when they hit each other.

“Woah! I’ve been hit!” Max exclaims, miming his car spinning out and crashing into the wall, which makes Oscar giggle a lot.

Oscar settles Puppy into his lap as Max starts to race with all the cars for Oscar’s entertainment. He seems to get pretty into it, and Oscar likes watching. That is until Max stops to take the car that Oscar was biting on out of his mouth.

“That is not for chewing, I don’t think,” Max says, but Oscar just whines in complaint.

“I know, but it’s not good for your teeth. Do you have any teethers? Or pacifiers?” Max asks, already turning to dig through Oscar’s little box again.

He eventually pulls out a dummy and takes off the covering before holding it out for Oscar to take. Oscar brings his thumb up to his mouth and starts chewing on it instead.

“Boefje,” Max huffs fondly, tugging Oscar’s thumb away before quickly replacing it with the pacifier.

Rude! But Oscar is easily placated. He sucks on his dummy happily, rocking from side to side.

“I think you might be a bit too small for cars now, muisje, hm? What do you think?” Max muses teasingly as he ruffles Oscar’s hair, causing Oscar to giggle so hard he falls over.

Max chuckles along with him as he helps Oscar back up. “Come on, silly boy. You’ve got toys that are safe for little mouths around here somewhere, don’t you?”

Oscar watches as Max rifles through the bin once more, before the man pulls out a shape sorter with a triumphant noise.

He sets the sorter down and continues his search. “Maybe there are some blocks in here as well… ah.”

“This seems important, yes?” he asks, pulling a pull-up from the bin.

He gives Oscar a lightheartedly dubious glance. “I know we did discuss this before, but I also know that it might be a sore spot for you. So, promise not to bite me when I put this on you?” 

He holds the pull-up out to emphasize his point, and Oscar reaches out to grab it clumsily. Max lets him take it and he waves it around. It makes a funny noise, which he giggles at.

“Here, swap,” Max says, gently taking the pull-up out of Oscar’s hand and replacing it with a rattle. Oscar shakes it and laughs at the sound of the beads inside.

“You like the noises, huh?” Max muses, before getting up and picking Oscar up as well, huffing a laugh as Oscar squeals with delight at the swooping feeling.

“Alright, let's get this done, yeah?”

—

One change (and maybe a bit of a fuss) later, and Oscar was cuddled up on Max’s chest on the couch. He was really really comfy. He had Puppy, his dummy, and Max with him! 

Plus, Max had thrown a blanket over the two of them and put on Ponyo, which Oscar really liked.

Ponyo was wiggling her feet around with Sauske, which Oscar thought was really funny. He wiggles his own legs, giggling.

“Settle down, moppie,” Max huffs affectionately. “It’s nap time. You do not want to be cranky later, do you?”

Oscar hums around his pacifier with a smile and pulls the blanket over his head. Max laughs and pulls the blanket back up, which prompts a game of them pulling the blanket up and down until Max playfully grabs Oscar into a hug and squeezes him, much to Oscar’s delight.

“How does a bottle sound, hm? Some vanilla milk?” Max asks. 

Oscar nod. He loves vanilla milk! It’s one of his favorite drinks.

Max begins maneuvering himself out from under Oscar and standing up, leaving Oscar on the couch. “Stay there,” he tells him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Oscar blinks. Where is Max going? Why does he have to stay here? Without Max? He doesn’t want Max to go. What if he goes forever? And leaves Oscar all alone!

He clutches Puppy to his chest and hiccups quietly, not wanting Max to hear him. But he doesn’t want Max to go.

Suddenly, Max is back at his side. “Oscar, are you alright? Don’t cry, you’re okay, I’m here.”

Oscar throws his arms around Max’s middle immediately, squeezing him as tightly as he can. He came back! He didn’t leave him!

“Aw, buddy, you’re okay,” Max soothes, running a hand through Oscar’s hair. “How about you come with me, yeah? We’ll make the milk together. I just thought you would want to watch your show.”

Oscar doesn’t want to do anything. He just wants to stay with Max.

He gets lifted suddenly, and then is settled onto Max’s hip. He makes sure to wrap his legs around Max, since even though Max is very strong, Oscar knows he’s still really heavy.

Max carries him over to the kitchen and sets him down on the counter before stepping away.

“Where do you keep your bottles, hm?” Max muses, looking through the cabinets.

Oscar looks down at Puppy in his arms. Puppy looks back, reassuring. Oscar hums around his paci and rocks happily, adjusting Puppy into a hug and watching Max assemble his bottle.

His bottle is all done a bit later, and Max helps him off the counter. He doesn’t carry him this time, but he holds Oscar’s hand as he guides them back to the couch. 

“Up we go,” he says, helping Oscar climb onto the couch. He settles down right next to him before laying Oscar down across his lap, head resting on the armrest, and swapping his dummy with the bottle.

Oscar latches onto the bottle quickly, humming at the yummy taste. 

Max makes the best vanilla milk, he decides.

The milk is all gone much too soon, leaving Oscar warm and full and cozy. Max takes the bottle away, shifting the both of them until Oscar is practically draped over Max in a cuddle he can’t help but melt into. 

Max makes him feel even more warm and cozy than the bottle is. He’s really good at cuddling. And hugs. And making vanilla milk. And racing.

Maybe Max is just good at everything, he thinks, closing his eyes and squeezing both Max and Puppy tight. Max squeezes him back.