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A young fan had given Max the sticker earlier—Banana Cat, slightly frayed around the edges. The whole "there's only one" thing? He made that up on the spot.
Right now he's placing it carefully into Charles's palm like it's something precious. It is, objectively, not.
Charles looks down at the sticker. Then up at Max.
"Only one?" he asks.
"Only one," Max says, nodding with the conviction of a man who has definitely never lied about anything in his life.
Charles turns the sticker over between his fingers a couple of times. Then he bends down and sticks Banana Cat directly onto the forehead of the long-haired dachshund curled up at his feet.
Leo, who had been dozing, gets a sticker slapped on his head out of nowhere. He shakes his head. It doesn't come off. He goes back to sleep.
Max's smile freezes in place.
"Where'd you put it?" His voice comes out a little thin.
"On Leo." Charles says it like it's obvious, crouching down to scratch behind the dog's ears. "You said to put it on the most precious thing, right?"
Max opens his mouth. Closes it. He stares at the dog. Leo is scratching his ear with a hind leg, the sticker flapping along with the motion. That dog is Charles's entire world. Goes everywhere with him. Gets fed before Charles feeds himself. Gets the bed before Max does. Max has to negotiate with a dachshund for pillow space.
He lost to a sausage dog.
"I thought..." Max starts, then has to try again. "I thought you'd put it on my face."
Charles stands up and tilts his head, green eyes flickering with something between confusion and amusement.
"Why would I do that?"
"Aren't I supposed to be your most precious thing?" It comes out somewhere between an accusation and a plea. Max regrets it immediately. He sounds like a child. Worse than the sticker lie, honestly.
Charles blinks.
"Max," he says. "You made up the 'only one' thing, didn't you."
The blush hits Max fast and unfair, spreading from his ears down to his neck. His skin has never done him any favors.
"...How'd you know?"
"Because I saw a whole stack of those in the media pen last week." Charles crosses his arms, way too pleased with himself. "At least twenty. You were opening fan mail. I grabbed you a water and there they were."
Max's face does the thing where it can't decide between mortified and impressed.
"So why didn't you call me out?"
"I wanted to see what you were up to." Charles crouches again, poking at the sticker on Leo's forehead. "Honestly? Your lying game is weak. Come up with something better next time."
Leo grumbles at the poke and shoves his snout against Charles's shin. The dog knows exactly what he's doing. Max is sure of it.
"So you did it on purpose," Max says.
"Mm." Charles straightens and heads for the couch. "On purpose."
Max follows, footsteps a little heavier than necessary.
"Well, now you know," he says. "I wanted you to stick it on me. You can do it again."
"No."
"Why not?"
Charles turns around by the arm of the couch.
"Because 'most precious thing' is way too sappy," he says. "And Leo's always been my number one. You're second."
"I'm second?!"
"Second." Charles sits and pats the cushion next to him. "Dog first. You second. That's already generous. You beat Ferrari."
Max stands there, raking a hand through his hair, cycling through offended and amused and back again.
"That's not comforting."
"It's a huge concession." Charles pulls his legs up. "You know, when my mum used to ask what I wanted for my birthday, I said a dog. I never said I wanted a boyfriend."
Max finally cracks, a laugh escaping despite himself. "Well, now you've got a dog."
"And a boyfriend who ranks second." Charles fires it back without missing a beat.
Max drops onto the couch. Charles leans into him, shoulder pressing against his arm.
"What about the sticker?" Max asks. "The one on Leo."
"Leave it." Charles shrugs. "He doesn't know it's there. Look at him. Out cold."
Leo is, in fact, out cold—curled into a tight little circle, belly rising and falling, Banana Cat still stuck crooked on his forehead.
Max watches the dog for a moment.
"Hey," he says. "That sticker. There really wasn't just one."
Charles turns his head, waiting.
"But when I want to give you something, I want to say it's the only one." Max's voice drops, quieter now. His blue eyes hold Charles's, steady and open. "What am I supposed to say? 'Here's a sticker, I've got a bunch, take whichever'? That's terrible."
Charles is quiet for two seconds. Then he reaches under the coffee table and pulls something out.
Max looks down. Banana Cat. Brand new, edges crisp, identical to the one currently on the dog.
"You stole that from the media pen?" Max's eyes go wide.
"Borrowed it." Charles peels the backing off and presses it onto the back of Max's hand, smoothing the edges down with his thumb.
"There," he says, patting Max's hand. "Now you've got one too."
Max looks at the yellow Banana Cat on his skin.
"I thought you were gonna put it on my face."
"Your face is too oily. It wouldn't stick."
"I don't have an oily face—"
"You do."
Max gives up and flips his hand over, examining the sticker from all angles. Banana Cat stares back at him, round-eyed and innocent, looking exactly like it's laughing at him.
"So when you grabbed that from the media pen," Max says slowly, "you already knew I was going to give you mine."
Charles doesn't answer. He stretches his legs out, toes brushing against Leo's back. Leo's tail gives a lazy thump in his sleep.
"Obviously," Charles says, after a while.
Max huffs a laugh and holds his hand out next to Leo. Banana Cat on the dog's head. Banana Cat on his hand.
Charles glances over, then looks away fast, jaw tight with the effort of keeping a straight face.
Leo picks that exact moment to wake up. He yawns, stands, shakes himself off—and the sticker finally loses its grip, fluttering to the floor. The dachshund sniffs at it, then walks over it on his way to the water bowl. Drinks. Walks back over it. Lies down again.
Doesn't look at Max once.
"See?" Charles says. "He doesn't even think you're worth being jealous of."
"Is that supposed to be comforting or—"
"Figure it out yourself."
Max peels the sticker off his hand and presses it carefully onto the back of Charles's phone case. Patches it down flat.
"There," he says. "Now you'll see it every time you look at your phone."
"See what?"
"The one and only Banana Cat sticker, personally applied by you, gifted by your boyfriend."
Charles raises an eyebrow.
"One and only?"
"This time it's true." Max holds up three fingers. "Swear. The ones you took don't count. I had exactly one left and you gave it to the dog. The rest went to Lando. He put them on his steering wheel."
Charles studies him for a beat. Then he flips his phone over, Banana Cat facing up, and sets it on the table.
"Fine," he says, and there's nothing but warmth in his eyes now. "Mr. Number Two."