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Max.
“This is stupid.”
“Your face is stupid,” Daniel flings back cheerfully, flipping on his blinker and dropping the car down a gear. The engine whines as the sudden high RPMs, but it slows the car better than if Daniel just hit the brakes. The roads up here are trash. “And you were totally fine about coming skiing with me until you saw the mountain.”
Max leans his head against the window and looks up at the giant mound of snow and rock. It juts up into the sky and seems to be especially menacing with the dark grey storm clouds surrounding it.
He can’t even see the top. “I’m gonna die.”
“They have a great staff at the Base First Aid,” Daniel informs him, hissing a bit when the back end of the car slides. Max grabs the panic handle and squeezes his eyes shut at the feeling. “Very good at snow rescues. And very nice.”
The car stops sliding. Max opens his eyes. “Are you speaking from experience here, mate?”
“ Nouar.” Daniel drawls, purposely leaning into his accent. He’s a bit of a nut, his best friend. Born and raises in Australia, moved to Texas for University, studied abroad in Belgium where he met Max.
Daniel was the extrovert who kidnapped Max, the introvert, and has yet to let Max go.
Max is okay with it. Most of the time.
It’s shit like this - oh the semester doesn’t start for another two weeks, let’s go to the mountain, I can teach you how to ski - that makes Max question their relationship.
Daniel manages to park the car (read: slide to a stop in a snowbank) in the resort parking lot. Max has to give him kudos, considering how bad the roads are and the fact that his car has a sport suspension, it’s incredible they didn’t wreck on the hour drive up here.
Max is shaking a bit though. So it wasn’t the smoothest ride.
He climbs out and nearly eats shit immediately. The snow is packed down and slippery as all hell. Straight grease, this is. He clings to the door. “Hey, dead serious, would you be okay with me staying in the room the whole week?”
Daniel pops the trunk, sliding out two pairs of skis that are both his. “I would be okay with it, but I’ll also give you shit about it for the end of time, so that’s up to you.” He shoulders a very awkward looking backpack of sorts. Daniel called it his…boot-bag? “Besides! I got you all day privates. Every day. All week.”
Max makes a face. “No shot.”
“You don’t have to go every day, because even I can say that a week straight of skiing is hard, but you can also leave whenever you get tired or cold or whatever. Bonus points for the fact that privates get their own meeting place and their own lunch area.”
“ And they cost a fucking fortune!” Max chokes, scrolling through the mountains website. “Christ, Daniel, how much did you spend?!”
“Not a fucking dime!” A duffle bag lands at Max’s feet. “My coworker’s friend’s parents did the whole package. They can’t go, it’s non-refundable, and the lessons package is tied to the room. So whoever stays in the room also gets the lessons.”
Max blinks, hefting the dufflebag along with his normal size backpack and pillow. “So…”
“So no one they knew could actually use it? Turns out I’m the only one who’s got a friend who can’t ski.” Daniel shuts the trunk. He loops the straps from the poles over the tips of each pair of skis, then carefully hefts one bundle of equipment onto each shoulder. “Okay. Ask questions later. Get me inside.”
The receptionist gives them an odd look, but not because of the skis. Probably more because Max isn’t carrying anything while Daniel is carrying…all of it. She checks them in quickly, runs Max through a map of the resort, and tells Daniel where the elevators are.
Their particular room is more like a condo than anything else. It’s fucking huge, from the kitchen, to the dining table, to the separate media room. Giant glass sliders show off the slab stone patio outside, which must be heated to keep the snow and ice off. A hot tub jacuzzi, grill and cooking area, and a nice table to eat are all featured as well.
Never mind the fact that he and Daniel will be able to walk out, put their skis on, and go right down to a lift. A ski on/ski off condo.
Insane.
“Did you let your coworkers friends parents fuck you or something to get this?”
“ Rude , Maximus!” Daniel yells from…somewhere. He must be in one of the bedrooms. Max wanders around, finding a small half bathroom, laundry, a mud room, and like eight closets with drying racks. “Where are you?”
“Go back to the kitchen and take a left.”
Another hallway. Max toes open one of the doors. It’s untouched and it’s huge. Max tosses his bags onto the bed.
“I did not let them fuck me,” Daniel’s voice sounds from directly behind Max, making him jump. Daniel’s in the room opposite Max, leaning against the door frame. “If I let them fuck me, they’d have bought me this whole fuckin condo.”
“Classy.”
“You brought it up.”
That’s fair. “You really gonna be upset if I stay in here? This place is a palace. Makes our apartment look like a dumpster.”
“Considering who I booked for your entertainment all week, yes. I will be upset, because he’s probably the one person besides me who can actually teach you how to ski.”
Max rolls his eyes. Whenever Daniel uses that tone, it means he’s making an innuendo. “I don’t want to be taught by your fuck buddy from last year.”
Daniel tips his head back and laughs. “You’re not. And besides, my fuck buddy from last year is my boyfriend now.”
Max chokes on his spit. “You’re dating Lando Norris?”
Daniel grins like a Cheshire cat. “Nope. But I know who is.”
Max kicks off his shoes. “Liar.”
The thing is, Daniel knows everyone at this mountain. This is where Daniel learned how to ski, how to board, how to do park and how to race. Daniel’s apparently been coming here since he was a child, as he’s got relatives or something and his school breaks corresponded well with the ski season in the north.
Something like that.
Regardless, now that they both go to school maybe an hour from the mountain, Daniel goes every weekend along with half the grad students. It’s a good way to make some money. The tips are nice anyway.
Or so Max has heard, because he tries to stay as far away from the slopes as possible. He runs and he swims and he will occasionally do weights with Daniel, but he is not a snow person. He does not like it. He certainly doesn’t want to be on two pieces of compressed metal alloys trying to slide across the stuff.
The point is that Daniel knows everyone there is to know at this mountain. They’ve been begging him to work as a supervisor for years because that’s how good he is at personal relations here.
“Who’s Lando dating? Wait, no, who are you dating? Since when are you dating anyone?!”
Daniel ignores the latter two questions for the first. “Lando’s finally got with Carlos Sainz.”
“Junior or senior.” Max shoots back without thinking.
Daniel’s eyes widen and he gapes at Max. Max blushes, realizing what he just said. “ Verstappen!”
“I’m just asking! Lando seems like the kind of guy who-”
“ Junior , oh god , oh that’s horrible. Why did you make me think about that, oh my god, you dirty little dutchman.” Daniel sounds gleeful and proud even as he complains. “This is why we’re besties.”
Max kicks the bedroom door shut in Daniel’s face.
…
Max really hates this ski thing.
First of all, he has to get up way too early, when all he wants to do is snuggle into his bed and sleep. But he has to get up, and get dressed in layers that do not look flattering, and then because it’s the first day, Daniel has to drag him to the rental shop.
While Daniel browses the more advanced demos (despite the fact that he brought his Stocklis and Rossis) Max gets to go through the routine of getting ski boots. And poles. And skis.
The ski boots are not comfortable, but Daniel assures him that if he feels comfortable in ski boots then they’re not the right size. “They’re not supposed to be painful, but they aren’t going to be comfy.”
Daniel shows him how to walk in the clunky pieces of plastic. It’s a lot of heel to toe movement, because in the ski boots he can’t stand with his ankle at a ninety degree like normal. Daniel hops behind the counter to get him poles, and no one working there bats an eye.
“Does he do this a lot?” Max asks the young kid working on a pair of skis. His hair is dyed blond but he smiles fondly at Daniel who’s examining at least three different sets of poles that all look the same to Max.
“Yeah, that’s just Daniel. He actually knows what the fuck he’s doing, so we don’t mind.” The kid eyes at Max. “You’re new here?”
Max watches him put some strange metal contraption on an edge of the ski. He slides it from tip to tail in one smooth motion, the muscles in his arms rippling nicely. He’s wearing a t-shirt. Max is cold and he has a long sleeve tech shirt and thin jacket on. “Yeah I’m- he sorta kidnapped me.”
“You came here willingly!” Daniel yells.
Max rolls his eyes. “I did not willingly come here, to a rental shop, at seven thirty in the morning.”
Daniel returns with a pair of poles. “Touche.” He flips them upside down so the pointy end is facing up. “Okay, grip these just below the basket. The plastic part.”
Max does. His arm makes a perfect ninety degree angle. “Close enough!” Daniel chirps, flipping the poles right side up. “Here, see if you can adjust the straps. You need them big enough to get your gloves through them.”
“Hi Daniel.” The kid says pointedly, still sliding the metal thing along the edge of the ski.
Daniel skirts around him, grinning. “Hey Alex! Why are you here this fuckin early, the rental shop doesn’t open till eight.”
“Same reason you’re here,” Alex replies. “I hate when there’s people here, and I want to make first chair.”
Max’s eyes widen. “First- wait, you’re gonna drag me out there without a lesson?!”
“Calm your shit,” Daniel returns with a pair of black and grey skis that have a red arrow at the tip. When Daniel slips them apart, one of them says Atomic just below the arrow. “I wouldn’t throw you to the wolves like that.”
“You would.” Alex pipes up. “You’re just being nice because you know the snow is shit right now.”
Of course it is. Max sighs, sitting on a bench. He’s tired already.
He has actually been on skis before. Not a single time did it go well, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he does remember a little bit. He remembers the feel of it, anyway.
“You’re gonna give him the Atomics? I would’ve gone for the K2’s.” Alex pipes up, leaning over to watch Daniel melt one side of a big block of wax onto the bases of the skis.
“If he learns parallel turns, then he can have the K2’s.” Daniel says, not looking up from his task. He’s got Max’s skis turned upside down, just like Alex has his. There’s a stand thing they’ve put each ski on, held tight by a piece of plastic that they snapped into the…top part. The thing that holds a boot to the ski.
“Daniel, what’s the…the clippy part? The thing that you pop out of-”
“Binding.”
“-that’s the bitch.”
Alex finishes his ski’s first. He slides them together and hefts them onto his shoulder in a very practiced move. He clunks his way out from behind the counter, gloves, helmet, and jacket all in hand. “Hey, good luck today. Especially if this one is teaching you.”
“Fuck you, I’m a great teacher!”
“The first time we skied together I crashed into a tree and broke my arm.” Max says flatly. Alex winces. “On the first run, too.”
“Okay that was bad,” Daniel pulls out an evil looking metal file and waves it around. “But I’m not teaching him. He is getting lessons.”
Alex sets his skis down to put on his helmet. “Who’s he with?”
“Leclerc. All week.”
Alex’s eyes widen, hands freezing in the middle of buckling his helmet. He turns slowly on a heel, staring at Daniel.
Daniel grins back. Alex closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You little shit.”
Before he can ask what the fuck that is supposed to mean, Alex has left and Daniel is bringing the Atomics towards Max. “Alright. I am going to direct you towards the privates meeting area, and then hoof it back to get my shit.”
“Woah- wait you can’t just-”
“You have your phone right? You’ll be fine.”
“What- Daniel!”
He hates skiing.
…
It’s an entire miracle that he makes it to the right spot at the right time with all his crap. He’s sweaty and out of breath and incredibly uncomfortable with all of this. He almost went back to the room, except he’s afraid that Daniel really will be upset if he doesn’t at least try this.
His instructor is late.
Max sits in the snow, hating the crunch of it while a supervisor with long sandy hair apologizes to him. It rained last night, and now there’s a crust to everything.
“Look who the cat dragged in,” The supervisor says. His name tag says Sebastian. “Thirty minutes, kid. Arthur better had been on death’s door.”
“You’d have thought from the way he was freaking out. The idiot broke his binding and dislocated his finger and still made me run to BFA to hold his hand.”
The voice of his apparent instructor draws his attention away from the cruddy snowman he’s making. Max looks up and promptly swallows his tongue.
Somehow, someway, this man makes his ski gear look good . More than that, this is quite possibly the hottest person Max has ever seen.
He stands before Max in a pair of olive green ski boots, black snow pants that have canvas sewn over the knees and a silver spider logo on the thigh, and an oversized slightly faded red sweatshirt that says Ferrari racing across the chest.
“Hi, sorry about that,” the man says. He reaches out a hand covered in a thing black glove. Max reaches up tentatively to shake it. “Had a small crisis with my little brother. I’m Charles.”
Hi Charles, Max thinks. Please marry me, I’m in love with you.
“Max.” He chokes out, and suddenly understands why Daniel left him to his own devices. Daniel knew Max would fucking kill him if he were here right now.
“Alright Max, well it looks like we’re stuck together for a week, so might as well get started. Did Danny Ric give you the run down of the rules and stuff?”
“Sorta?”
Charles nods. “Alright, well since my boss is standing two feet to my left, I’ll run you through it anyway.”
Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I should stay here and shadow you just for making me wait a half hour.”
“Aw Seb, you know you love me.”
“I love my husband and my dog and that’s about it.” Seb marks something on a clipboard. “If you want to change instructors at any point, just let me know okay?”
Max doesn’t realize Sebastian is talking to him until he's has already left. He’s too busy staring at Charles.
He watches as Charles ties a bandana around his head to keep his hair back. He looks so comfortable in his gear. That’s what makes him so hot, of course. Not his face or his voice or his anything else. It’s how comfortable and confident Charles is as he tells Max what to do with his skis.
“You want me to leave them?” Max zones back into the conversation, confused.
“Yep! We’re going to do a lot of boot work first, so you get used to walking about and moving your pole and stuff. Plus, I’m going to show you what I mean when I say flex. ”
Max almost blurts out ‘I’m plenty flexible’ but saves his dignity just in time.
True to his word, Charles makes him walk around and turn and pivot and all this all this other stuff that Max didn’t even know he could do in boots. By the end of the first hour, Max feels like an expert.
He knows what the number on the side of his boot means, he knows the different parts of the bindings on his skis, he knows how a binding works. He knows the tip from the tail from the edges and the brakes and he knows that he should never ever cross his tips or his tail.
“It’s an instant recipe for death.” Charles says, watching carefully as Max clips into his ski. Max laughs, slightly delirious. He has had a stupid amount of fun so far, more than he’s ever had on the snow.
Charles smiles up at him. Max blushes.
He’s screwed.
…
“A whole day!! Maxy, I’m so proud of you!”
Daniel squishes Max in a tight hug the second he comes through the door. Max shrieks. “You’re still wet! Get off me, I already showered!”
Daniel does not let go. He shakes Max back and forth. “I could cry, I’m so proud. We’ll make a skier out of you yet.”
Max shoves him off, pestering him back towards the rubber mat by the door, clearly there for people to take off their snow heavy gear. In this case it’s rain heavy, because it started sleeting again after lunch.
He idly listens to his friend babble about all the dumbass idiots he’s encountered on the slope. The condo was stocked with some food already, and Max will gladly suffer through powdered hot chocolate. It’s something warm and he is very tired.
“...saw Lewis, who said that Seb said that Charles didn’t manage to get rid of you until three!”
“Yeah, so not a full day.” he gets a second mug down automatically. “I was soaked. Charles said I need better gloves.”
“Oh did he?! ” Daniel squeaks. He skips into the kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxers and ski socks. “That’s so interesting, tell me more.”
Max turns his head slowly and raises an eyebrow. “He also said that you specifically requested that he be the one to teach me.”
Daniel’s eyes widen. “That’s weird, I’m going to go shower.”
Max throws a marshmallow at Daniel as he runs.
…
Daniel has, ironically, been trying to set him up ever since they met. He’s convinced that if he, Daniel Ricciardo, does not find Max a boyfriend, then Max will wither away and die alone.
Max has tried very hard to tell Daniel that no, a partner is not necessary for a happy life and yes, Max is quite happy being alone most of the time.
Most of the time.
Unfortunately for Max, Daniel was there when being alone did not make him happy, and instead made him lonely as shit. He got drunk once, admitted that he just wanted to be loved like that , and since then Daniel has been on a mission.
There is no doubt in Max’s mind that this entire thing was one elaborate plan to set Max up.
“Hands up!” Charles yells from next to Max. The beginner trail they’re on is crowded, but Charles is doing a good job of keeping Max away from some of the more out of control skiers.
Max jerks out of his day dream and picks his arms up from his sides. It feels awkward, having his hands stuck out like one of those cheesy sci-fi zombies as he goes down the hill. He feels more comfortable with his hands where they were, but then Charles has been trying to break him of that habit all morning.
“Good!” Charles yells again. Max looks up to see Charles is in front of him. He’s effortlessly skiing backwards, occasionally spinning around to double check there’s no one in front of him. “Your arms turn with you!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Max grumbles under his breath. He’s slightly loathe to admit it (and he certainly won’t say anything to Daniel) but Charles has actually made this enjoyable. Furthermore, Max doesn’t feel so panicky anymore when he’s on skis.
He actually made a few sorta parallel turns up there. Now Charles is trying to get him to ‘stop turning with his upper body’, or something. Max wasn’t paying attention.
He’s on day three of skiing with Charles, and Max is finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the actual ski part. It’s just- when Charles teaches, all Max hears is the pride and confidence in what he’s saying. And he loves that, he does, but it means that when Charles is not teaching, Max can tell all the different inflections in his voice.
Charles loves what he’s doing, that much is clear. But they don’t only talk about skiing. They’re the same age, inevitably, they stray from snow sports and end up on life.
Max knows that Charles has two brothers, but that he misses Lorenzo and hasn't seen him in over a year. He knows that Charles loves Ferrari, loves Formula One racing, and raced carts as a kid until both his parents lost their jobs and he had to leave the sport.
That’s how he ended up at Uni. He met Daniel during an exchange semester in his undergrad, because of course he did. Of fucking course he did.
Max knows what Charles’ voice sounds like when he’s unsure, or when he’s shy, or self conscious. He knows Charles plays the piano, and he’s probably pretty okay at it, but he down plays his skill. He knows Charles was afraid he was over stepping when he asked if Max had a girlfriend, and he was down right flabbergasted when Max replied “No, haven’t had a boyfriend in a few years.”
The look on Charles’ face is still in printed in his mind. Not just because it was fucking funny, but also because if Max wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of hope on Charles’ face.
Max might’ve been imagining that part though.
“You’re doing it again!”
“I’m going to throw a pole at you!” Max yells, only half joking. Charles laughs, smoothly swirling around to face downhill again. There’s a brief break in the crowds here, but it’s a bit steeper.
Max is doing decent turns, if he knows a single thing about skiing. He’s in control, he’s not breaking at the waist, his hands are out in front of him and he’s not sitting on his tails. Pretty good for his fifth time skiing.
He looks up from the snow in front of his skis to yell something to Charles about how good he’s doing, when it happens.
It’s like a car accident.
Max watches it unfold seemingly in slow motion. A skier - a guy much larger than Charles or Max - is out of control or not paying attention or both. He’s got too much speed, way too much for the beginner hill they’re on. He must not have turned once since the top of the trail.
He careens down the hill in a straight path to the edge of the woods, which would be bad enough, except he tries to correct, and in the process changes his trajectory straight for Charles.
Max can actually hear the horrid ‘smack’ as they collide.
Charles gets knocked out of his skies, the other guy goes flying, equipment is everywhere, and all Max can focus on is the fact that Charles is not moving.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Max hisses, ignoring his fear of going fast and speeding down the hill. He probably makes some of the best turns in his life, but he doesn’t notice, because Charles has stopped sliding down the hill and he’s still not moving. “You better not be dead!”
Charles doesn’t appear to hear him. Max's heart climbs into his throat.
Max slides to a stop - a near perfect hockey stop, Charles better be conscious and have seen that because zero shot he does it again - above the mess. He uses his poles to pop out of his bindings, (just like Charles taught him), picks up each ski and sticks them tail end in the snow to form an ‘X’ (just like Charles taught him), and carefully digs the heels of his boots into the snow to keep from falling on his way down to Charles (Charles didn’t teach him that, Max learned that hard way during boot drills).
“Hey,” Max drops to his knees next to Charles, panting. He sticks his poles in the snow next to them. “Hey, Charles?”
Nothing. Max can’t see if Charles’ eyes are open behind his goggles.
“Okay, okay, this- okay.” Max mumbles to himself. He pulls his gloves off and digs out his phone from his jacket. His fingers move without thought, and it seems they’re both in a spot where there’s cell service, because Daniel answers the phone.
“ Max? What’s up, I thought you were still out with Charles.”
“Ignoring the fact that you’re apparently stalking me, I need your fucking help because some idiot just ran over Charles and he’s not moving and I don’t have the number for ski patrol and I don’t know what to do, fuck , Daniel, what do I do?” Max rambles. His hands are shaking. He puts the phone on speaker and sticks it in the snow.
Daniel, to his credit, turns serious very fast. “What trail are you? I can get them there.”
“I- I’m not sure, one of the greens. Um, it- it’s kinda rolly? I guess? Like it’s got a lot of ups and downs-”
“What chair did you go up?”
“The one on the left? Skiers left. Off the main face.” Max looks up, trying to find some sort of land mark that he can give Daniel. All he sees is a bunch of brand new skiers who are doing their absolute best to avoid hitting Max and Charles. “We’re probably two thirds the way down.”
Daniel says something to someone, and then it sounds like he’s moving. “Alright, Max, can you talk to me about Charles?”
‘Sure,’ Max thinks deliriously. ‘He laughs like a dork. He tells horrible jokes. I love his accent. It’s been three days and I think I’m falling in love with him.’
“Um,” Max shakes his head, reaching forward. “Okay, he was hit from behind, total double eject, I have no idea where the other guy is. He rolled a bit and now he’s on his side.”
“Can you see if you can check his pulse? Do you know how?”
“Yeah,” Max chokes. “I can do that.”
Does he want to do that? No, he does not. Max rolls onto his knees, digging the toes of his boots into the snow to keep from sliding. He puffs a few breathes into his cupped hands, rubbing them together to try and get the feeling back.
Some part of his brain snaps online then, and he pulls Charles’ gloves off. His signature liners are easily pushed out of the way, and Max wiggles his fingers to get under his jacket.
A steady, even heartbeat can be felt when Max presses down at his wrist. He nearly cries. “I got a pulse on his wrist, it’s strong and even. Um, he’s- I don’t think he’s awake though.”
Max can’t say unconscious. He can’t.
“That’s good, that’s really good Max, ” Daniel sounds relieved. “I’m gonna be there soon, I’m riding with ski patrol up to you, okay?”
“Okay, should I- Charles?!” Max leans forward apprehensively. It looks like Charles’ face twitches, or something, but it’s so hard to tell with the helmet on. Max lays a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “Charles? Can you hear me?”
Charles groans. His hands pull into fists and he shifts slowly, like he’s in pain. “Hey, hey don’t move okay?”
Charles mumbles something in- French? Maybe? - and huffs. Max taps his goggles, feeling like a right idiot. He just wants Charles to wake up.
It works. “Why does it feel like I got run over?” Charles moans, eyes fluttering open.
Max laughs. It sounds more like a sob. “Because you did.”
Charles frowns. “Really?”
“Really,” Max grumbles, carefully helping Charles pull his goggles up. “You missed some great turns by the way. I was doing fucking incredible, real Olympic shit, and you doing fucking somersaults down the hill.”
Charles grins at him. “Guess you’ll have to do them again so I can see.”
“I only did them because you were snowballing down the hill,” Max says under his breath, then whacks Charles on the arm. “I told you not to move!”
“I’m just gonna roll onto my back-”
“No, you are not!” Max yells. “You could have like- spinal damage or something! You were fucking unconscious-”
“-just blacked out for a bit-”
“-I swear to god Leclerc, if you don’t listen to me I’m going to leave you the worst review in the history of reviews-”
“Okay love birds!” A sharp scrape of ski’s interrupts them. “Hate to break up the argument, but I need to check on my trainee.”
Max looks up to see Sebastian popping out his skis, wearing an olive green jacket instead of the patented dark blue ones for instructors. The drone of a snowmobile registers in his ears as well. Ski patrol will be here soon.
“Excuse you, I am not a trainee anymore!”
“Hush up Leclerc, you’ll always be my trainee.” Seb sticks his poles in the snow next to Max’s skis, another marker for people to avoid. He kneels carefully, nodding appreciatively at Max as he moves out of the way.
Sitting back, Max watches as Seb runs Charles through a lot of questions, carefully poking and prodding at Charles neck and head. He feels along Charles’ legs too, pressing and poking.
Max watches Charles wince when Seb touches his right leg. Dread sits heavy in his stomach, mixing with guilt. He can’t help but feel that if he’d just listened to Charles more, he’d be skiing better. They wouldn’t have even been on this trail.
The snowmobile arrives with Daniel and two members of ski patrol. Seb moves out of the way and Max goes further back so he’s on the very edge of the trail. The ski patrol guys work in perfect unison. One is ridiculously tall, taller than Max even, and the other seems comically short next to him, although Max is sure he’s normal size.
“Hey Charlie,” The shorter one grins as he works on unclipping Charles helmet. “You lost the bet with Pierre, you know.”
“Fuck off, this one wasn’t my fault!” Charles cries, but it’s good natured. “Tell them Max, I was facing downhill! Not my fault!”
Max swallows, feeling especially small as all eyes of the rescuers are suddenly on him. “Um. It- the guy hit Charles.”
The short one huffs, rolling his eyes. “Sure, have the student defending you now. Likely story.” Seb knocks shoulders with him fondly. “Lay off him Lewis, he’s got a concussion.”
“I do not -”
“You were unconscious,” Daniel jumps in suddenly. Max blinks, surprised. He didn’t even see Daniel move, but now his best friend is standing right beside Max. He hands Max his phone. “It’s incredibly likely you’re concussed, mate.”
“How long was he out?” the tall ski patrolman asks, feeling around Charles right leg where Seb directed him. “I’m George by the way.”
“Hi George, I’m Max, and this is my ski instructor that I thought I killed for about five minutes.”
“I wasn’t dead, you’re being dramatic!”
“Five minutes? That’s rookie shit Charles.”
“Okay, Mister ‘unconscious for two days’, some of us value our brains-”
Max loses track of their conversation as Daniel crouches in front of him. The Aussie’s face is uncharacteristically serious as he searches Max’s. “Are you alright?”
“Am I- are you kidding?” Max sputters. “Charles is getting stretchered off the mountain and you’re asking if I’m okay?!”
“I’m fine!” Charles yells.
“I’m not talking to you!” Max yells back. Lewis bursts out laughing. George swats at his partner, but he’s laughing too.
Max is glad they’re having fun. He is not.
“Maxy,” Daniel says quietly. “You’re shaking.”
Max looks down at his hands. Sure enough, his fingers are trembling. He’s shivering, despite the fact that he’s really not cold. “I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not.”
Max glances over Daniel’s shoulder to where they’re loading Charles into a sled thingy. Charles is complaining the whole time, and Max knows Charles is okay, but- but-
“He was out, you know?” Max says eventually. “He was- I, I couldn’t do anything.”
Daniel nods. He rubs Max’s arms through his jacket; an attempt at comfort. “You did everything right Max, it’s fine. He’ll be fine.”
“He wasn’t moving,” Max says again, because it’s the only thing he can think of. “He was so fucking still, Daniel, he-”
“Okay, hey. Look at me.” Daniel grabs Max’s hands. He’s wearing gloves. Max is not. “Look at me, Maxy.”
“I’m looking -”
“-at Charles. Who is okay. You listening? He’s okay. He’s had worse, actually.”
Max finally snaps his gaze to Daniel. “That is not helpful.”
“Got you to focus on me, didn’t it?” Daniel smiles at him, squeezing Max’s hands. “Let’s get out of here huh?”
“What about the other guy?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Danie replies. He grabs Max’s gloves and puts them on Max’s hands, as if Max is a small child. “That’s a lie, we don’t know where he went. I think I saw him on the way up, but he’s not here any more, and if he was fine enough to ski down then I think he’s good.”
Right. Right, okay. This is fine. Max can deal with this. It doesn’t matter that when he stands his legs wobble like a baby giraffe. It doesn’t matter that Seb has his skis on and Lewis is back on the snowmobile and George is holding the handles of the sled that has Charles in it. It doesn’t matter that they’re taking Charles, and Max is still sitting on this hill.
It shouldn’t matter, anyway.
“It’s weird that I’m having this amount of feelings for someone I’ve known for three days, right?”
Daniel freezes, Max’s skis in his hands. Seb, George and Charles have already left.
He breaks into a grin. “I mean, you already argue like a married couple.”
“Not helping.”
Daniel laughs, adjusting Max’s bindings. “You love me and you know it. Stop over thinking it and get on the back of the snowmobile. I’ll take your skis down.”
“But-”
“Longer you argue, longer you’re away from Charles.” Daniel sing songs, dropping the Atomics on the snow and clipping into them.
Max can’t argue with that. He hates that he can’t argue with that.
…
“This is awkward, isn’t it.”
“For anyone else, yes.” Sebastian says, scribbling away at a clipboard. “Lucky for you, the guy you’re crushing on is Charles. He’ll probably feel honored, or something.”
Max flexes his toes in his ski boots, trying to rid himself of the cramp in his arch. Another thing Charles taught him.
They’re sitting at the main first aid building (BFA, as Seb keeps saying) waiting for Charles’ to finish up some tests. They were worried about his knee, but according to the singular x-ray machine they apparently have here, nothing is broken.
They don’t have a particular machine they need to check his brain (CT? TG? Lewis called it something like that) so they’re going to finish him up as best as possible then send him to the hospital.
Which is why Max is still here. Daniel promised to bring him different clothes to change into, since he’s soaked and shivering, but at this rate Charles will have left for the hospital before Daniel gets here.
“He won’t think it’s weird?”
“Depends on what you say when he wobbles his way out here,” Seb doesn’t look up from his forms. “Example: you better not have come all the way to BFA just to complain to him about no longer having an instructor.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘hi I’m glad you’re awake and coherent. Thanks for being not dead.’”
Seb tilts his head, biting the end of the pen. “Yeah that’ll work.”
In the end, he doesn’t even get to say that much. The second Charles reappears in the waiting room, he’s being ushered towards a waiting SUV, flanked by Lewis and George. “He’s fine, Toto is just nervous.” George waves them off.
“I am not; he was unconscious!” A deeper voice yells from somewhere behind the curtain. “He needs to be checked out and to schedule an MRI for his knee!”
Charles does look a little wobbly. He smiles weakly at Max, who stood the second they got into the waiting room and then stayed there uselessly. “Charles-”
“I’m okay Max.” Charles rasps, and he doesn’t sound okay. He sounds exhausted and in pain. Max wants to fix it.
George and Lewis get him out the door and into the back seat of the car quickly. It leaves Max and Seb alone in the tiny reception area that acts as a waiting room. Max can’t go anywhere until Daniel gets here - his phone is dead and he doesn’t know the way back to their place.
“I’ll find you a different instructor for the rest of the week. Unfortunately, I think tomorrow we’re completely booked out, so it might be me.” Seb finishes the pile of paperwork he was going, standing up and dropping it to the guy behind the desk. “If you don’t want to do that, let me know I’ll walk you through the refund process.”
“That’s fine, but-”
“The resort is going to contact you to get an incident report of what happened, or any time this week you can go down to the customer relations desk, they’ll tell you where to go and who to talk to.”
“Okay but- but that’s it?”
Seb frowns, shrugging on his jacket. “I don’t know what else you expected.” He’s making his way to the door. “If you have any questions or complaints, there’s a number on the website that you can-”
“Can you let me know when he gets out of the hospital?” Max asks desperately. Sebastian freezes, thinks about it, then turns on a heel to examine Max with narrowed eyes.
“You really care if he’s alright?”
Max bites his lip, wringing his hands together. “He’s…he’s been really good to me, and I- I just want him to be okay.”
Seb stares at him a moment longer before digging into a pocket in his jacket. He pulls out a pen and a business card of some sort, and uses the wall to scribble a number on it. “Here.” he hands the card to Max. “Ask him yourself.”
…
“So you got his number,” Daniel calls from the kitchen, stirring some veggies in a pan. “But not from him.”
“Correct.”
“And you haven’t texted him because…?”
“Because he’s in the hospital still!”
“You don’t know that, because you haven’t texted him!”
“ Daniel .”
“ Max .” Daniel walks a plate of steak strips out of the kitchen. “I love you. Really, I do. But your balls need to drop here. Text the guy.”
“My balls are right where they’re supposed to be,” Max grumbles while Daniel goes outside to start the steaks. Fucking hell.
Max rolls over onto his stomach. He’s splayed out on the floor in front of the couch, a football game of some sort playing on the TV. Daniel put it on once they got back.
He fishes out the card from his pocket and types in the phone number. Then before he loses all motivation, he sends a text.
Hey are you dead.
Its Max
From the mountain.
That’s stupid. That’s so stupid, what other Max does Charles know? Can Charles even look at his phone right now? What if it’s dead? What if-
His phone vibrates. Hi Max from the mountain. It’s Charles, from the hospital. I’m not dead.
Max laughs. Good to know.
Not to be rude, or whatever, but how the fuck did you get this number?
Also- prove it’s you, Max from the mountain.
Max snaps a quick picture of himself, ignoring his horrible helmet hair and sending it without a thought. Seb gave it to me.
Oh that’s definitely you. The little picture gets a heart reaction. And it’s Seb now, is it?
He said if I called him Sebastian one more time he was going to put me in the hospital right next to you.
Of course he did. He’s like my dad, don’t take him seriously.
Max swallows. He remembers the look on Seb’s face. I will take it very seriously, fuck you.
Fair enough.
His fingers hover over the keyboard briefly. So hey, if you’re planning on being conscious tomorrow, I’m probably gonna take a break from skiing. If you wanna do something.
MAX ARE YOU ASKING TO SEE ME WHILE IM ON MEDICAL LEAVE??
BECAUSE THAT’S CUTE SHIT!
Max isn’t proud of the little squeak he makes. FUCK YOU I FEEL GUILTY
WELL STOP THAT
And yes I’ll be around tomorrow. Probably.
Fine.
Cool.
Max sucks in his cheeks to keep from smiling. Whatsapp tells him that Charles is no longer online. Hopefully he’s off his phone. Max read somewhere screens aren’t good for someone who’s got a concussion.
“Steak is almost done!” Daniel calls cheerfully, the slider door banging as he closes it with his foot. “Did you talk to him?”
“He’s okay,” Max says, reading their text messages again. “If he’s feeling up to it tomorrow, I’m gonna go see him.”
Daniel leans over the couch and gives him a look. “You’re going to see him in the hospital?”
“No, he’s…I think he’s out of the hospital. He said he’d be around, so that means he’s probably not in the hospital that’s an hour away.”
Max rolls over. Daniel doesn’t say anything, just grins at him. “What?”
“Nothing!” Daniel pushes off the couch and disappears into the kitchen. “Get whatever the fuck you want to drink, you need to eat.”
“Thanks mom.”
“Of course little lion.”
Max rolls his eyes. “Why do I put up with you?”
“You don’t have any other friends.”
Fair.
…
Noon sharp the next day sees Max idly kicking a chunk of ice between his feet outside the lessons area. He’s been here for forty two minutes. Charles said he’d be here an hour ago.
He feels like an idiot.
Another eighteen minutes and Max will leave. He’s double texted Charles, he’s texted Daniel, he’s sure there’s no other building that’s referred to as ‘The Disco’. This is the right place, and yes, Max was fifteen minutes late, but Charles is not here. There’s no one here.
He’s spent the last forty two- now forty three - minutes playing with this chunk of ice and waffling between two different scenarios. One, that something horrible happened and Charles got held up or had to go back to the hospital.
Two: Charles stood him up.
He doesn’t even know if he can say ‘stood up’ since this wasn’t like. Explicitly a date, or anything. He assumed they’d get lunch or something, because it’s a little awkward to meet someone in person just so they apologize.
Max thought- from their texts last night and then this morning, that maybe…maybe Charles wanted more than that. More than Max groveling, anyway.
An hour late though. Charles is an hour late, and Max has been been waiting for forty five minutes, and he feels like a fucking idiot standing out here like this and-
“Hey, kid!”
Max doesn’t look up at first, too focused on toeing at his ice chunk. It’s not until the voice calls again, much louder and much closer that Max realizes the voice is addressing him .
“Hey, are you…” the man looks down at his phone. “Max?”
“Uh,” Max takes in the man’s spiked blond hair and cold blue eyes. “Yeah?”
The man nods once. “Good. Charles is waiting for you in the basement shop.” He side steps Max and slips into the building, not saying a word otherwise.
Max blinks a few times, wondering what just happened and if he just had a conversation with a ghost.
Right, okay. Basement shop.
A quick search of the base map finds that there is in fact a shop in the main lodge, and it is on the basement floor. Sort of. The lodge is built into the side of the hill, so the basement level is even with the parking lot, but the level above that allows people to walk out onto the snow.
Max still gets lost on the way down there.
There’s no one in there except for the store clerk and one person looking at the different ski boots.
“Fuck, maybe I am going insane.” he mutters to himself, checking his phone again. Still not texts from Charles.
Arms wrap around him from behind and Max yelps, startling. He turns quickly and finds himself in a tight hug from Charles. “Hi, I’m so sorry, I would’ve gone up and met you but someone threatened to lock me in the trunk if I left the shop.”
“You’re less than twelve hours out of the hospital, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Seb says, not an ounce of apology in his voice. He’s appeared behind Charles, looking exhausted. “And you got sick all last night. You should be in bed.”
“I told Max I would meet him-”
“Could’ve done that tomorrow.”
“-and then you took my phone away! How was I supposed to tell him I was going to be late!”
Seb rolls his eyes, waving a hand. “I’ll be in the car. You’ve got ten minutes.”
Max blushes, stepping back. “I waited.”
Charles frowns. “You- I said noon? At the- at the base shop.”
“You said eleven. At the disco.” Max looks him up and down, taking in the brace on his knee and the sickly tint to his skin. “I thought you said you weren’t dead.”
“I’m actively talking to you.”
“Could be a ghost,” Max points out. “You look dead.”
“Fuck you, I was unconscious yesterday!” Charles laughs. He quickly sobers when he sees Max’s face. “Sorry, that was- sorry.”
“Little too soon for me,” Max shifts his feet, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his ski jacket. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you out here. I just wanted to see you and apologize and-”
“Shut up.” Charles punches him in the arm. “Seriously Max, it wasn’t your fault. From what I hear, you did everything right.”
“I panicked and called Daniel.”
Charles nods. “As I said. The right thing.”
“You mean if I was unconscious on the ground, you’d have called Daniel before anything else?”
“Yes.” Charles answers, dead serious.
Max reminds himself to ask Daniel what the fuck he does at this mountain. Charles looks at him curiously. “You’re not skiing?”
“I’m not going to ski by myself; I suck.”
Charles gasps, pressing one hand to his chest in a dramatic show of offense. “You do not. I’ve done fine work with you. Besides, didn’t Seb offer you another instructor?”
Max frowns. “He said everyone was booked up. And I don’t want another instructor.”
“Seb said-” Charles raises an eyebrow, surprise on his face that’s quickly wiped away. “Um. Never mind. So what are you going to do if you don’t ski?”
Max shrugs, feeling awkward and out of place. He feels like a child, unsure of the right words. “I don’t know. Daniel is training, and it’s not like I know anyone here.”
Charles eyes glitter. “You could go ice skating.”
“I don’t want to go ice skating by myself.” Max pouts. “That’s no fun.”
Charles shuffles his feat. “Well- I mean, if- if you want, I could…go with you?”
Max blinks. There’s no way Charles is asking what Max thinks he’s asking. He narrows his eyes, pointedly looking at the brace on his knee. “You can do that?”
Charles glances at him, then looks away quickly.
Dear god, is he nervous?!
“I’m booked with you the whole week, so whenever you’re not skiing, I get the day off.” Charles says, still fidgeting. “So if you want to go ice skating, then I can go with you.” he catches Max’s gaze. “The brace will add padding if I fall.”
Max crosses his arms, protecting his heart even as it flutters happily. “You gonna teach me how to do that too?”
“Fuck no, I’m going to die.” Charles laughs. “I’ve never been on skates before in my life.”
“If you can’t skate, I am done for.”
“C’mon Maxy.” Charles takes his hand and pulls him towards the car. “Let’s go be idiots together.”
…
There’s an ice rink that’s part of the resort. Seb drives them, since Charles has a concussion and is supposed to be resting. Max feels like he’s being chaperoned by Charles’ dad the whole way there.
Charles, while tired and hurting, is clearly excited to be spending time with Max. He chatters about the differences between skating and skiing the whole way there, arguing with Seb whenever the older man tries to add his advice.
Seb kicks them out next to an outdoor rink. It’s completely deserted. A gorgeous day for skiing, really, of course they’re the only ones at an ice rink.
As Charles dashes towards the rental center, Seb leans out the driver’s window and catches Max’s sleeve. “Hey. Remember what I said?”
Max freezes, heart now pounding for a whole different reason. “Yeah I. Yes. Um. Sir.”
Sebastian grins. “Good luck!”
He drives away quickly. Max looks across the road to see Charles grinning at him, a set of skates in each hand.
Max is in way over his head.
…
The skates feel stiff and unrelenting under his feet. After wearing ski boots all day for three days straight, the boot part of the skates feel down right flimsy. He’s sure he looks ridiculous, like a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time.
His ankles, as it turns out, are horribly weak. He’s wobbling before he even hits the ice.
“Charles, this is a horrible idea.”
“What are you talking about, this is great!” Charles says, then promptly fall on his ass the second his skate hits the ice.
Max has to sit back down on the bench, he’s laughing so hard. “How- how do you fuck this up-”
“It’s hard!”
“You have a level three PSIA skiing cert! How can you not balance on an edge!?”
Charles sits up, arms crossed over his chest. He’s pouting. “It was my bad leg.”
Max grabs onto the railing and carefully sets one skate on the ice. “Maybe start with the good leg, then.”
“Smart ass,” Charles grumbles. He rolls onto his knees and presses his palms flat on the ice.
“Don’t do that,” Max says immediately, stepping his other foot onto the ice. He wobbles a bit, but manages to let go of the railing without immediately eating shit.
“Don’t do what?” Charles asks, still crouched on the ice. “I have to stand somehow.”
“Yes, but don’t- your fingers,” Max demonstrates to Charles the right way to do it, spreading his fingers wide then making a fist with his thumb tucked in. “You don’t want your fingers to be splayed out like that. If your skate goes forward-”
“Bye bye finger, got it.” Charles corrects quickly and pushes himself up. “Right okay. Okay I can totally do this.”
Max bites his lip, smiling. Charles, for all his grace and agility on skis, looks worse than Max here. His legs are almost shaking in an effort to stay balanced as he moves forward in small jerks of his skates.
“I don’t understand how you can be this bad,” Max says, pushing off carefully with his left foot and catching up to Charles. “I’ve seen you skate on skis before, you know how to do this!”
“Shut up, I’m concentrating!” Charles shrieks. He’s staring down at his skates looking absolutely terrified and Max wonders if this is how he looked the first day he was on skis. “How do you know how to do this, anyway?”
“I was on skates when I was little,” Max explains, trying not to laugh at Charles’ attempts at turning. “I haven’t skated for a long time, but I remember some things. Plus,” Max skates forward a bit, catching Charles as he almost falls. “A lot of it is about the movement. The same stuff that we do to ski.”
Charles looks at him, a dare in his eyes. “Oh, is it now? You gonna show me how to do it Maxy?”
Max nearly swallows his tongue. Daniel is the only person who’s ever called him that. Max loves the way it sounds coming out of Charles’ mouth, the way it folds around his accent and curves his lips.
“I’ll try.” Max whispers, then coughs. “I- okay, so first of all, you need to bend your- yeah, like you’re flexing a boot. Except that there’s no resistance here, so you need to keep your knees bent but try not to break at your waist. If your weight is too far back or forward you’re gonna fall.”
Max teaches him everything he remembers, which is admittedly not a lot. He’s probably getting half of this shit wrong.
Still, it’s hysterical to watch Charles try and do…well, anything. Bubbling doesn’t work well because Charles just drags his feet together instead of going forward or back. Stopping is also atrocious, and after the forth fall, Max gives up on the hockey stop and shows him a wedge.
“It’s just like a…what did you call it? Pizza?”
“Oh, yeah! I can do that.” Charles says. He gets a bit of speed - they’ve managed to get the back and forth motion down - and goes to stop. Max thinks it’s worked, and then Charles wobbles and falls to his knees.
“You’re horrendous,” Max laughs and carefully plops down on the ice next to him. “I mean, you were standing still .”
Charles flops onto his back. “Its not easy, Maxy.” Charles whines. “What am I supposed to do? Be automatically good at this?”
“I thought you said that skaters and hockey players are the best people to teach skiing too!”
“Yes, they’re the easiest to teach, because they already have the skills and the balance, but skiers don’t!” Charles yells, waving his arms in the air.
“You mean you don’t.” Max points out. “Because I think Daniel would be able to skate with ease.”
Something flashes briefly across Max’s face. “Well, then next time you can take Daniel.”
Max blinks, scrunching his face in disgust. “We’d kill each other. Plus, Daniel’s dating someone else.”
Charles stiffens next to him. “Wha- who the fuck is Daniel dating??”
“I have no idea, I’m just saying I wouldn’t date him.” Max shrugs. The light snow on the rink is melting into his jacket. “And next time, we’ll do something easy. Like bowling.”
“What the fuck is bowling- no, wait back up.” Charles rolls over. He props himself up on one arm, eyes wide. “You wouldn’t date Daniel. I said you should take Daniel here, and you said no, because you wouldn’t date Daniel-”
“Is this your concussion rambling right now?” Max rolls his head to the side to look at Charles. “Because usually you’re more put together than this.”
“I’m sorry, I’m more focused on the fact that you think this is a date.” Charles purrs, taking his other hand and poking Max’s arm.
Max feels the smile slide off his face. “What.”
“You said-”
“I- no, wait, I- that- so this was- I just, I thought that you…um, I am so sorry?” Max squeaks out at the end. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck he thought they were on the same page and it’s very clear that they’re not and- and-
Something cold and gross slides down his throat at the realization that Charles doesn’t want this to be a date. Fuck, Max is probably breaking a thousand company rules right now, he’s going to get Charles into trouble and he’s never going to be able to ski here again and-
“-ould you stop freaking out? Max .”
Max jolts out of his panic. “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
Charles smiles again. “I said, that this can’t be a date, because I refuse to have our first date be when I’m concussed and could possible forget it.”
“Oh,” Max nods. “That’s understandable.”
He turns his face back to the sky, hoping he’s not blushing, and then it clicks. “Wait, what?” he sits up, gaping at Charles. “For real!?”
Charles pushes himself to a sitting position. He taps Max’s hand with his fingers. “I mean…if you wanted to go on another date, I would happily agree. Just, you know.” Charles waves around. “Maybe something easier.”
Max nods so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. “I’ll google bowling.”
“You do that,” Charles says, leaning closer. The butterflies in Max’s stomach feel more like a stampede of elephants. He’s nauseous with it. “I have more important things on my schedule.”
Charles cups Max’s face with a gloved hand, the fabric cold and wet. He searches Max’s face for something. “What-”
The kiss isn’t completely unexpected. Max was looking at Charles who was looking at Max’s lips, so it wasn’t far off. The contact still short circuits his brain.
It’s nice. It’s- Max’s lips are chapped, probably, so it’s not the best for Charles, but it’s nice. It’s so nice in fact that the moment Charles pulls away Max is grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another. And another. And-
“As much as I’d love to keep going, I don’t think Pierre will be very happy to watch us make out on his ice rink.” Charles breathes, rubbing his thumb along Max’s jawline.
“He’ll be fine,” Max says, although he sits back slightly, dropping his hands to grab fist fulls of Charles’ jacket. “We probably shouldn’t do anything until you’re healed though.”
“Yes, for sure,” Charles eyes darken. “But I feel totally fine and you have a condo all to yourself-”
“ Charles ,” Max laughs. “If you refuse to have your first date while concussed, I refuse to get my first blowjob from you while you’re concussed.”
Charles groans and flops back down on the ice, making Max laugh harder. “I can tell right now,” Charles says, content at ever. “You’re going to be the death of me Max.”
“Too soon , Leclerc!”