Work Text:
It's 5 am when Max lands in LA and the sky is golden orange and pale yellow. He has crusty eyes from the little sleep he managed to get on the flight, and despite the early morning, and the complete lack of sun in the sky, the heat from the California desert, so different from the European summers, hits him in the face.
He scrunches his nose in disgust and rips the tab from a can of Red Bull, the piercing noise it makes when the metal breaks cuts the silence surrounding him. He downs the drink like it's his job, it almost is his job if he thinks about it too hard, and sleepily makes his way towards the car parked on the tarmac of the tiny, private airport.
It's been weeks of races, weeks of flying across the globe in a poorly planned race calendar, days of jetlag and exhaustion and time away from Daniel. Max had wanted to spend his summer in Europe, in Monaco specifically, within the privacy of his own home where the only things demanding his attention is his simulator and cats. It's how he's spent every summer since he started in Formula 1, it's how he's gotten to where he is now—consistent training, no personal time—but something was gnawing at him this year, begging him to do something different.
He wants to spend his summer break at home, just like he had every other year, and he still is, in a way. So despite how badly Max wanted to spend his summer holed up alone in his apartment, there was someone he wants to be with even more, and when Daniel had texted him miss you :( from across the globe, Max had sighed, packed his bags and called his pilot with plans to fly west, to an unfamiliar city he's only seen in movies. Max's relationship with Daniel is new, but he knows more than ever that home is no longer a place to Max, home is a singular person.
'Just landed,' he texts Daniel, but the tiny lettering that says delivered doesn't change to read. The last message was read 13 hours ago, when he'd sent a photo of packed bags in the middle of the airport and Daniel had sent back party emojis and a kissy face. He knows Daniel's asleep, or drunk, potentially even both. Max had been the recipient of blurry photos that depicted his drunk boyfriend with a gleeful smile on his face alongside the words congrats, baby.
It'd made Max blush and quickly hide his phone, still not used to the pet names Daniel calls him now.
He locks his phone, not expecting a text back from Daniel at this time of the morning, and climbs into the car while telling the driver the address. Max fiddles with his bag, shoving things in every direction in search of the spare key Daniel had left him in preperation for this exact moment while the car speeds down the freeway, barreling towards the city.
He finds them eventually, places them neatly in his lap so he won't lose them to the unfamiliar backseat and stares out of the window, towards the skyline that's coming closer. It's not that Max doesn't like LA, it's just that he doesn't not like it. It's cramped and too small for how many people it holds, he knows that the traffic is horrendous because Daniel will complain about it every single time he's here, and it feels like a movie set at every turn he goes, even at such early hours of the morning. LA just doesn't feel like a real place.
And yet, Daniel loves it here, sometimes it seems like Daniel loves LA more than Perth. And that's why Max is here, half-asleep in the back of a car as he watches ridiculously high skyscrapers fly past his window.
Because even if California makes Max feel like he's been transported to another place, even if LA is weird and smells a little funny, and even if LA isn't home, Max has accepted that Daniel is home, and Daniel is in LA, so Max is in LA too.
——
"Thank you," Max mumbles sleepily to the driver when he eventually reaches Daniel's home in Beverly Hills. He's never been here before, the only visuals he's ever seen of it have been in Daniel's YouTube videos, video calls, and photos plastered across the internet. It's intimidating to be standing here now, the sheer size of the building makes him feel like an ant.
He doesn't like it, how big it is, how unfamiliar it is either. He doesn't understand the point of big houses when you're only one person. 'You're only in one room at a time, Daniel,' Max had said when Daniel gave him a tour over FaceTime last week, 'Why do you have such a big house in a city you only live in for 3 months a year?'
Daniel had barked back a laugh, one that sent shivers down Max's spine and made his heart clench with how much he missed hearing the noise reverberate on the walls around him in person. 'That's like asking me why you have three cars, Maxy,' Daniel had retorted, and Max pulled a face in response and moved on.
The key slides into the lock effortlessly, just like Daniel had promised. The way it twists is so smooth, and the crack of the lock is so loud, Max worries he's going to wake Daniel up. He fumbles inside, falling over what looks to be Daniel's shoes and he kicks the door shut, realising a second too late how poor of an idea that was, swearing under his breath as the hardwood door slams shut.
It stays silent once the door slams shut, the only noise throughout the house being the ambience of ceiling fans, circulating air and the cicadas in the yard singing a song. Max takes the stairs two at a time, dragging his bag so close to the floor it bangs against the steps. What he's looking for, as he clampers around the house, is for the bedroom that will be his solace, the room that holds Daniel. The exhaustion is finally beginning to settle in, he can feel it in how stiff his bones feel, how he drags his feet across the hardwood floors.
He's just about to give up and fall asleep in one of the guest rooms when, finally, he opens a door and is met with the sight he's been craving. A visual of a stark contrast between beautiful, olive skin, littered with inky black tattoos against white, cotton sheets, the dark curly hair against soft memory foam pillows.
Max kicks off his shoes, pulls his clothes off until he's in nothing but his boxers. He knows he should shower otherwise when he wakes up in the morning, Daniel will complain he smells like a plane, but the empty spot in the bed is just so inviting that he can't help but crawl under the sheets.
Daniel's body shifts, as if they're magnets pulling each other closer. Max whines—it's humid in the room, the ceiling fan doing nothing but circulating warm air around the room instead of cooling it down—but leans into the embrace nonetheless. Daniel's awake, he quickly realises when he hears a throat clear.
"Good morning," Daniel whispers, voice raspy and covered in sleep, "you stink of travelling." Max rolls his eyes when the words reach his ears, shifts his body to get up to shower now that Daniel's complained significantly earlier than he expected, but strong arms tighten around his waist and stop him from moving.
"That doesn't mean get up and shower," Daniel mumbles, the soft laughter that accompanies his words vibrating against where his head is buried into Max's neck. "I'm just teasing you."
Max frowns, the pout weighing his lips down before he realises Daniel can't see him. "But you said I smell?" he asks, not completely understanding why Daniel doesn't let him get up. "You said I smell like an aeroplane?"
He feels Daniel sigh, warm breath tickling him, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. "Yes, Maxy, you stink of travelling and an aeroplane, but I want you to stay here, in bed with me."
Max is glad Daniel's head is hidden in his neck now because he can feel just how red they've gotten, how warm they feel heating up as the blood rushes to the surface. "Are you sure?" he asks, "I do not mind showering."
Daniel doesn't say a word, so Max speaks again, shifting his body weight against the arms that hold him close. "Daniel, truly, I do not—"
"Maxy, shut the fuck up, baby," Daniel says, sternly but not angrily, with the right amount of firmness to force Max into settling down in his arms. Daniel moves his head from Max's neck, their faces are so close that Max can see where the outer rim of his irises is slightly lighter, a more caramel colour in comparison to the chocolate brown of the centre. "I haven't seen you in weeks, baby, I'm not letting you go yet."
Max feels his lips twitch, the smile threatening to break out across his face. "I've missed you too," he admits softly. Racing is his life, he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but it's weird not having Daniel around every week, like there's an Australia-shaped hole in his chest every week.
He settles into bed and then embraces the fingers dancing across his back, raising the hair behind his neck. It's lovely, just being like this with Daniel, they haven't had much time like this since the season began.
They'd gotten together over winter break, when everything had come to a head with his move back home, and there was no point in denying their feelings for each other anymore. Max had turned up in Perth in December, spent Christmas with Daniel and forced himself into Daniel's proximity at every waking moment he could until winter testing.
The way he shows Daniel love has been spending time with him, and now they aren't together every day, he worries Daniel doesn't feel the love from him. Max doesn't know how to convey his feelings for Daniel in any other way, he doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve as the other does. Daniel shows his love in so many ways—in the words he uses, in the actions he takes, in the way he even looks at Max, he feels love—and sometimes it's so overwhelming, it's borderline suffocating in the best way possible.
It makes him jealous, that Daniel can just do love in ways Max can't. He's awkward, and floundering at every chance he gets, he just hopes that Max turning up in LA at the crack of dawn makes Daniel know he's loved.
——
When he wakes up, Max feels as if he's in an oven.
It's humid heat, sticky and gross, and Max can't do anything because there's a body clinging to him, blissfully undisturbed by how disgusting the weather is.
"Can I help you?" he enquires when he realises Daniel is awake, just not moving. "This weather is horrible, Daniel," he says quickly, shifting his body to try and push his boyfriend away from his body, but Daniel does nothing but laugh at Max's complaint, and then looks up from beneath his eyelashes, Max feels all the anguish and hatred towards California weather dissipate from his body.
"You're just nice to look at," Daniel says, voice so low it stirs something within Max's stomach, and he can't stop staring at Daniel's mouth. "Do you want to shower?"
Max hums in agreement, stares at Daniel's lips for just a second longer. There's a pang in his chest when he thinks about the fact they didn't kiss last night, haven't kissed since waking up. He's self-conscious now, positive his breath smells because due to jetlag and travelling, he can't remember the last time he really brushed his teeth but also because Daniel hasn't kissed him and he's overanalysing the situation again, and his heart is thumping in his chest so the second he feels Daniel's arms let up, the second Daniel is unsuspecting, Max rolls out of bed and quickly walks into the bathroom.
He doesn't lock the door, he can feel Daniel following him even with the distance between them. He can sense him, in ways he can't sense other people like they're linked in ways Max can't explain.
"Are you okay?" Daniel asks, gently to not scare him, like he's talking to a stray cat he's found on the street and not his boyfriend. Max wonders if sometimes they're the same thing, with how skittish he can be. He feels his lips pull, threatening to break out in a grin when he realises just how well Daniel knows him.
"I'm fine," he says, "just sweaty. This place is horrible, so sticky." He's stripping the small remainder of his clothing off now, twisting the taps so cold water splashes the chrome tiling of the shower floor, circling the drain before slipping into the pipes.
"You're the one who wanted to come to California for summer break, Maxy," Daniel laughs casually, stripping away his clothes just as Max had done before climbing into the shower first and goading Max to join him, quickly.
The water is cold on his body, sliding down between the ridges of his muscles and the joints of his bones. He sighs in contentment, eyes closed as he throws his head back and lets the stream of water dampen his hair. He can feel the heat radiating from Daniel's body because, despite the large shower, Max isn't allowed any personal space.
Not that he's complaining.
He hears the crack of a bottle and opens his eyes. Daniel is standing in front of him, concentrating as he pours shampoo into his open palm. He's gorgeous, Max thinks, oddly domestic and his heart pulls at the wish deep within his bones that screams he wants to do this forever.
He goes to move out of the way, assuming Daniel wants to wash his own hair but Daniel shakes his head quickly, grabbing Max by the shoulders to stop him from moving. "No, baby," he says, still as soft as before but more assertive this time, "I'm washing your hair."
He says it like it's obvious, that Max should have just known that the shampoo in Daniel's palm was for Max and not for himself. Max stays there then, relishes in the way Daniel's fingers feel carding through his hair, massaging his scalp. Daniel laughs under his breath, mutters something along the lines of 'fucking cat' when Max's head tilts to one side to get Daniel's attention.
It's romantic, Max realises, the way Daniel's looking after him, making sure his hair is washed and his body is clean. The way Daniel's hands run over Max's body run shivers down his spine—it was the most non-sexual act of intimacy he's ever experienced, and he feels as though he was on the verge of tears.
Max has never felt this loved, the gentle touches, the loving gazes, the acts of intimacy all pile on top of each other. Max has to quickly spin in the shower, has to turn his back to Daniel so he doesn't see Max's physical reaction to the simple gestures.
"Maxy?" he asks, and Max feels Daniel's chest press against his back as he gets close, "are you okay?" Anyone else asking Max if he was okay for what feels like the fiftieth time would have annoyed him but it doesn't this time, because it's Daniel asking him, and he knows Daniel would never ask for the sake of asking. There's genuine care and concern in his question, which eats Max alive.
He wishes, so fucking badly, he could express how he feels to Daniel. He knows what he could say, it's in his throat, threatening to choke him.
"Just got shampoo in my eye," Max says instead, his voice wobbly, "because of your rough hands."
"Oh, sorry," Daniel replies, not sensing anything different in Max's tone as he begins to rinse his hands of any residual shampoo before spinning Max around. "Tilt your head back, let me rinse your hair properly."
So Max does, and then he lets Daniel wash conditioner through his hair, even softer and gentle than before, and then Daniel rinses the conditioner out as well, all while Max feels like three, very simple words sit in the back of his throat, threatening to rip him at the seams.
——
Despite the both of them being in the same house, it's not until hours later that Max sees Daniel again.
After their shower, Max had reluctantly told Daniel he has some work to do, and Daniel had whined and complained, pulled the 'it's summer break, how much work do you really have?' card with a pout on top of his lips before Max had pushed him out of the bedroom and pulled out his laptop.
It's nothing he couldn't have done with Daniel in the room, but he's a distraction without even realising it sometimes. Max's work was that exciting—just looking over meal plans and exercise regimes, researching e-sport events and planning his calendar for the rest of the year. Reluctantly, he had picked a day to fly back to the Netherlands, for the Dutch Grand Prix.
He poured over the way for so long. It felt unfair really, to finally be with Daniel again just to be planning which day he was leaving.
Max figures Daniel is on the phone with someone when he walks down the hallway towards the kitchen. He hears a boisterous laugh echo off the glass and bounces around the walls of the house, it reverberates more the closer he gets.
Max half expected to enter the kitchen and see Daniel's phone sitting upright and displaying a video of Scotty James, so it's a shock when it's quite the opposite. Daniel's cooking, with a random YouTube video displayed across his computer. He's laughing at himself as he struggles to cut the onion without tearing up, and Max just stands in the open hallway and watches for a moment.
It's a beautiful sight, and while it's mostly just because it's Daniel—and Max thinks everything Daniel does is beautiful—it's also because Max can just how much plan went into planning whatever he's cooking. Max can tell from the spices on the countertop, and the amount of uncooked rice by the sink that it's not going to abide by his meal plan entirely, but it's still chicken, and there's an assortment of vegetables around, and Max is grateful that despite Daniel not having to stick to a rigorous meal plan himself, he respects the fact Max has too.
"What are you cooking?" he can't stop himself from asking, not when the look on Daniel's face screams confusion. "Do you need any help?"
Daniel jolts from shock and Max has to stop himself from giggling at how much he scared him. "I'm trying to cook dinner for you," he says, grumpiness evident in the way the words are whined. "It's hard, Maxy."
Max laughs as he walks into the kitchen. He picks up the rice, places it in the sink and starts to rinse it. "Why do you think I never cook? Brad does all my cooking for me," Max laughs as he speaks and he sees Daniel roll his eyes.
"Idiot," he says, but it's affectionate in the way it rolls from his lips. "I'm trying to do something nice for my boyfriend and he says I'll never be as good as his trainer." Max barks a loud laugh at Daniel's words, at just how untrue they are.
Max raises his hand from the sick and flicks water droplets in Daniel's direction and he sees the cling to the skin by his neck, darkening the white of his t-shirt until little droplets of light grey appear instead. "It is very nice of you," Max says back, sincerity dripping from his voice, "I appreciate it a lot."
Daniel beams at that, so bright he rivals the sun that's setting behind him. "I don't want you to eat like crap on break," he says, grabbing Max's hand to hold in his own, the juxtaposition between Max's pale skin and Daniel's sun-kissed olive skin almost makes him laugh.
"It's very nice of you to care," Max repeats, eyes stuck on the way Daniel's thumb runs soothingly across the back of Max's palm. "But, if you're struggling, I can eat shit tonight."
Max feels Daniel laugh before he hears it, the way his entire body shakes rhythmically before any sound erupts from his mouth. "I'll be completely honest Maxy," he says, barely able to keep giggles in, "I already ordered Wendy's."
Max can't stop the laugh from erupting from his chest then, and he laughs alongside Daniel, their bodies doubling over in the kitchen as they cling to each other for safety out of fear that they'll both drop to the ground without the support.
"What did you order for me?" Max asks eventually as they calm down. He's beginning to put the remnants of Daniel's attempt at cooking away, chicken in freezer bags, rice into the rice cooker, and vegetables stored safely away for another day.
"Just a beef burger," Daniel says, wrapping his arms around Max's waist, digging his head into the crook of his neck. "And some chippies, which I'll probably steal." Daniel's breath is hot against Max's neck, it tickles, and sends a shiver down his spine.
Max can tell gives Daniel some sort of power when he realises what his touch does to Max, the way he knows Daniel can feel his body reacting to his actions, even just the slightest ones.
"Daniel," Max says cautiously, but Daniel isn't listening. He can feel his lips dust his neck, across his pressure point, where his blood pulses through his artery. Gently, Daniel places a kiss on his skin, right on top of a freckle which marks Max's most sensitive spot.
It's not the most physical affection Max has gotten from Daniel in the time he's been here, but it affects him more than anything else has. He whines, high in his throat, so much it feels almost pathetic. He almost wants to run away, hide under the sheets until Daniel forgets the noise he makes, but the grip Daniel has on Max's hips tightens then, in a possessive kind of way.
"Baby," Daniel says, tongue clicking against teeth, words whispered against his ear, "what's wrong?"
Max thinks it's horrible how riled up three words can make him, how much Daniel infects Max's brain to the point his neurons all just scream for Daniel and Daniel alone.
"Kiss me," he whispers instead, pleading into the sky as he grinds his hips into Daniel's, begging in a way words can't do so. Daniel takes the hint, moves his lips from Max's ears to his lips, where he's so desperately craving him. "I'm going to go insane if you don't."
So Daniel does, presses his lips to Max's and gives everything to Max that he wants. It makes him feel dizzy, and he can't tell whether it's the lack of oxygen or the fact it's Daniel, he's inclined to think it's both.
"Fuck me," Max begs, more breathy this time, against the seam of Daniel's lips. He feels Daniel react, a shudder down his spine, a cant of his hips, Max wishes Daniel would devour him as he recaptures Max's lips in one, messy movement, before, reluctantly, pulling away again to speak.
"Bedroom?" Daniel asks, as if the answer isn't obvious, and Max whines in response before pulling him away from the kitchen, leading the way.
——
"You're overthinking," Daniel says later when the sun is a vast array of pinks and purples, of dark blues and the white moon rising in the sky, the yellow sun hiding behind mountains. Sunset filters in through curtains, spreading across naked bodies and white sheets.
Max is thinking, but he wouldn't say he's overthinking. He's thinking about how he feels about Daniel, how Daniel makes him feel so adored, and special, and so, so, so loved. Through actions, through words.
Even the way they're laying, skin-to-skin, chest-to-chest, Daniel's arms protectively around Max, he feels more loved than he's ever felt in his life.
"I am sorry," Max begins, and he notices the confusion flash across Daniel's face quickly, "that I am not as good at showing love as you are."
Daniel makes a noise, one Max can't quite comprehend. "What do you mean?" Daniel probes, confusion dropping from the syllables as they dance past his teeth.
"You are so good at showing you love me," Max starts, resisting the urge to roll away and hide forever in one of the many guest bedrooms. "You washed my hair, you cuddled me, you wanted to make me dinner, I–you made love to me. I struggle, to do the same."
It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders with the confession, but something still sinks into his chest. Daniel looks hurt, in a way, and it causes the anxiety to bubble in Max's stomach, rotting it as if it's mould.
"You think I don't know you love me?" he asks, softly once again and it's just another thing to add to the list of ways Daniel shows Max love. He knows how to speak to him, properly.
"I think I am bad at showing it," he admits, "because I am… Well, I am scared."
Daniel shifts their bodies gently, manoeuvring them until Daniel can cup Max's cheeks with his hands. "Why are you scared, Maxy?"
He feels the tears well up in his eyes with how concerned Daniel is. He curses himself, for crying, for emoting but Daniel soothes him, softly wipes away the tears that spill across his cheeks.
"I am scared I am bad at loving you," he whispers, heart raw, beating so hard against his chest he's surprised Daniel can't see it. "And fucking it up, or worse, you don't realise I love you as much as you love me."
Its flood works now, and one of Daniel's hands, the one with the rose tattoo inked across his thumb, moves to Max's back, rubbing it to calm him down enough to speak, to comprehend what Daniel's going to say.
"Maxy," Daniel's smiling as he says it, and Max has to resist the urge to tell him to fuck off as the sobs eventually escape from his chest. "You think I didn't know that? Didn't know you loved me?"
Max shrugs, heavy breaths and angry sobs stopping him from speaking too much. "I do not do much to show you, as you do with me, and of course, I don't say it to you."
Daniel sighs, and pulls Max close this time until their chests are so close the only way to tell where one ends and the other starts are by looking at the tattoos littered across one of their bodies. Daniel doesn't speak for a while, he just lays with Max against his chest, soothing him until the sobs calm down and the hiccups replace them.
And then they lay there for a little longer, not saying a single word.
"Maxy," Daniel says, and if it weren't for the pet name, the singular hint of affection in his words, Max would have ran. "I texted you that I missed you and you got on the first flight you could come here." Max doesn't say anything, just shrugs his shoulders because Max doesn't see it as a big deal.
"You would do the same for me."
Daniel shakes his head, mutters the word dickhead affectionately under his breath and pulls away gently, not too far, just far enough so that Daniel can look into Max's eyes.
"I'd do it for you, because I love you, Maxy," he says, as if it were obvious, and suddenly a million things make sense, the puzzle pieces fit together miraculously. It's like a light switch finally flicks in Max's brain and it turns on.
"Oh," Max says, and he feels a bit silly at the moment now. "So you, do know? I love you, that is." It's a relief, he thinks.
Daniel laughs and says yes without even saying a word. He says it in the way he presses the softest kiss to Max's lips, a kiss with no ulterior motive, one that's filled with love, and love only, and he's kissing Max just because he wants to kiss Max, because he loves him, and he knows Max loves him back.
"Yes, Maxy," he says, "I know because I love you too."
And, it's in that moment, that Max feels the most loved he's ever felt in his life. Because he loves Daniel, and Daniel knows. And Daniel loves him, and he knows that. And they love each other, and Max can't wait to find more ways to show how much he loves Daniel for the rest of his life.