Pasta

                                    

                                          

Max woke up to the sound of an alarm at three thirty. Charles woke up too, not realising Max was in bed and letting out a muffled yell of annoyance into the pillow, "You know there's a snooze button if you don't want to wake up that much right?" Max asked. 
Charles froze and turned. He'd forgotten Max was here and Max couldn't see him turn bright red. It wasn't just what he'd just done or what Max said but also the addition of Max's morning voice, rough and scratchy. He wasn't gay but it was fuck was his voice hot in the morning. "I have to exercise at four." Charles mumbled, getting up regretfully.
"I'll come with you." Max said, "Just give me a second."
"I'll meet you at the lift?" Charles asked. Max nodded.
Max went to his room, getting ready and cursing the hour but he was awake so why not? He hated meeting people at the gym anyways and how long could Charles' workout take? He'd been on gym rest for two days, he couldn't get back up to his normal pace so fast. No responsible trainer would let him.
Three hours later, Max cursed the irresponsible fool that was Charles' personal trainer, imagining their face on the punching bag as he took out all his frustration on it. Charles was still going, like it was normal though he looked so tired. He should have known better than to think Ferrari trainers had an iota of common sense. He let Charles be, though, until Charles' nose started bleeding. That was when he had enough, "Charles," He said, "I don't think you should be exerting yourself so much."
"I'm fine." Charles told him like his nose wasn't pouring blood.
"Very clearly not, come." Max got a tissue from the desk and wiped away Charles' blood from his face with extreme care.
"Oh," Charles said, looking at the bloody tissue, "I didn't even feel that."
"How about we cooldown and go to eat?" Max asked, "What's your favourite food?"
"Against my diet." Charles sighed dreamily, wishing he could pasta.
"I asked what it was, not if it was against your diet."
"It doesn't matter 'cause I can't eat it." The Monegasque was adamant, shaking his head slightly
"Why?"
"My dietitians-"
"Can go to hell." Charles wouldn't meet Max's eyes so he turned his chin up and their eyes met, "Charles," He said, "What is your favourite food?"
"Pasta."
"Then let's cooldown and get pasta?" Max said, more than asked, but he still left the decision up to Charles.
"Okay," Charles agreed, already planning to throw up after, "Let's."
AN// Hey, just checking in, is everyone good with the fic so far? I hope none of y'all are getting triggered, if you are please stop reading, your mental health is more important. Stay great guys.
Love,
Kai.