𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚

Scotty is leaning on one elbow, relaxed and tall and blond. Heseems very pleased with itself. He is wearing linen. Max hates linen. It wrinkles too much. Daniel is laughing at something Scotty says, head tipped back, his mouth open, throat working.

Max’s stomach goes hot.

Scotty James is not even in F1. He does snowboarding, or something like this. Which is impressive, maybe, but also totally unrelated. There is no reason for him to be standing so close to Daniel at a Red Bull party. There is no useful information he could be giving Daniel. Daniel already knows how snow works.

Max puts his glass down carefully on a table.

He walks over.

Daniel sees him first. Of course he does. Daniel is always seeing things, when Max doesn’t want him to.

“Hey, mate,” Daniel says. His smile stays on, but changes a bit. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Max says. He looks at Scotty. “All good?”

Scotty blinks, then smiles. “Yeah, man. All good. Congrats on the race. today”

“Thank you.”

A little silence opens.

Daniel’s eyes are bright. “You having fun?”

“No,” Max says, honestly. Scotty laughs.

Max looks at him.

Daniel says, “Max.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m answering the question.”

“You are.”

Scotty takes a sip of his beer. “Not a party guy?”

Max shrugs. “I like parties if they are useful.”

Daniel makes a small noise. “Useful?”

“Yes. For example, team dinner is useful. Sponsors are useful, sometimes. Celebrating is useful if it helps morale. But this—” Max gestures vaguely at the yacht, the women, the gold lights, Scotty’s shirt. “This is mostly standing.”

Daniel presses his lips together. His eyes are doing the thing they do when he is trying very hard not to laugh.

Scotty says, “Fair enough.”

Max nods.

A second passes.

Daniel reaches out and puts his hand on Max’s shoulder. Warm. Heavy. Thumb brushing the side of his neck.

Max forgets whatever he was going to say next.

“Come on,” Daniel says. “You and me. Bathroom.”

Max frowns. “Why?”

“Because you’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you get very honest and very scary.”

“I am not scary.”

Scotty coughs into his beer.

Max turns his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” Scotty says quickly.

Daniel’s hand tightens. “Maxy.”

Max lets Daniel steer him away.

Not because he needs to be steered. He’s walking perfectly. But Daniel’s hand stays on his shoulder the whole way, and his fingers are warm through Max’s shirt, and this is better than standing by the bar watching Scotty have no useful purposee and being dumb.

The bathroom is small and white and cold. Daniel locks the door behind them and turns on the tap.

Max says, “I don’t need to piss.”

Daniel laughs. “Good to know.”

“So why are we here?”

“Because you’re pissed.”

Max doesn't understand, so Daniel grins and paraphrases: "Pissed like hammered. Drunk."

“I am not pissed.”

“You are a little pissed.”

“I am buzzed.”

Daniel’s mouth twitches. “Right. Buzzed.”

He cups water in his hands and nods at the sink. “Splash your face.”

“No.”

“Max.”

“I am not a kid.”

Daniel’s face softens in a way Max immediately hates, because it makes his throat hurt. “I know you’re not a kid.”

“You are doing the voice.”

“What voice?”

“The Daniel voice.”

Daniel leans back against the sink. “I only have one voice.”

“No, you have so many.” Max steps closer. “This one is when you think I need help.”

Daniel’s eyes flick over Max’s face. His flushed cheeks, probably. His mouth. His stupid hair and red bitten lips. Max knows what he looks like. He can see himself in the mirror behind Daniel, bright-eyed and hot and too close.

“Maybe you do,” Daniel says softly.

Max’s stomach drops. Then rises.

“You like helping me, Daniel,” Max says.

Daniel goes still. The tap keeps running. Water against porcelain. Music through the door. The dull, slow creak of the yacht.

“Max,” Daniel says in warning tone.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Buzzed.”

“You’re younger than me.”

Max laughs, but it comes out strange. “Not that much.”

“Enough.”

“That’s so stupid, Daniel.”

“It’s not.”

Max steps closer again. His knee brushes Daniel’s thigh. Daniel inhales, barely, but Max hears it.

“You don’t move away,” Max says.

Daniel shuts his eyes. “Fuck.”

It is the best sound Max has ever heard.

Max kisses him.

Daniel is still for half a second. Then his hand comes up to Max’s jaw, and he kisses back.

It’s hot. Wet. Softer than Max thought it would be, then harder when Daniel’s mouth opens under his. Max makes a noise, surprised, and Daniel answers it with one of his own, low and rough. Max grips Daniel’s shirt. Daniel’s fingers press into Max’s waist like he means to stop him and forgot how.

For a moment, Max thinks: yes. Finally.

Then Daniel pulls away.

“No,” Daniel breathes.

Max’s mouth feels swollen. “No?”

Daniel looks wrecked. Red mouth, dark eyes, guilt all over his face.

“Not like this,” he says.

Max swallows. “I wanted to.”

“I know.”

“You did too.”

Daniel flinches. Then, quietly, “Yeah. That’s why I have to leave.”

He lets go of Max.

The air turns cold where his hands were. Daniel unlocks the door. The party rushes in, bright and loud. He doesn’t look back.