“You’d be more awesome if you got me some ice,” Max said, his voice low and shaky.
“I can do that,” Felix said.
“And,” Max said, gesturing toward the big-screen TV on the dresser opposite the bed, “you want to watch something? We can ice together.”
It would be so easy to sink in, to forget, even temporarily, that things weren’t different. It was how Felix had spent a lot of the years between the first and second iteration of Star Shadow—pretending. Pretending that one day, Max would just lean over and place those gorgeous lips on his.
“I . . .”
“Please,” Max said, and then he reached for Felix’s hand again, squeezing it. “I’m going out of my mind with boredom, and it doesn’t help that it fucking hurts. Help me get my mind off of it.”
It would be easier if Max was slightly less appealing or Felix didn’t care for him so much—as a friend and as everything else. “Alright. Give me a few minutes.”
“Okay,” Max said, grinning irrepressibly. Probably at the thought that he’d convinced Felix to do something he hadn’t really wanted to do. It was hard to stay angry at someone who took that much pleasure in your company.
Felix walked back out into the living room feeling like he’d just been through a war, and that yet another battle was just about to begin. If it had been a year ago, Felix would have grabbed his duffel and changed out of his jeans, into a pair of more comfortable sweatpants, but they weren’t cuddling together on Max’s bed. Felix was going to sit there and keep him company until the pain meds kicked in and he fell asleep again. That was all. He couldn’t slide back down that slope; he’d worked too hard to get back to semi-level ground.
He gathered two ice packs, a big bag of pretzels, and another bottle of water.
When he appeared back in Max’s bedroom doorway, he’d already dug the remote out of the drawer of the bedside table and was flipping through the channels.
“What should we watch?” Max asked as he shifted over, leaving just enough room for Felix.
“Middle of the bed,” Felix grumbled, secretly afraid that he wouldn’t be able to convince Max to give him any additional space. There’d been a time when they’d cuddled together frequently, and while Felix had loved every moment, in the end, it had been part of the problem, creating unfair expectations that Max could never follow through on.
“Oh what, do I smell?” Max asked with a grin. “Come over here, you dork.” He lifted an arm and beckoned. “We haven’t cuddled in forever.”
Felix stared at him, arms full of ice packs and snacks. He considered, for a brief moment, throwing them all at Max’s head and running away.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked when Felix didn’t move.
“Uh, I think I forgot something,” Felix said. He had made it a life habit to never chicken out. He always said exactly what he meant. He never sugarcoated the truth, always delivered it when people asked for it. Except for Max. He couldn’t reveal one secret to Max without a hundred more toppling over, Jenga-style.
“Yeah,” Max said. “Why are you still wearing your jeans? Come get comfy, man. I just had fucking surgery.”
“Right,” Felix said weakly. “I guess I’ll go change.”
“Damn right you will,” Max said, clearly satisfied with this arrangement.
Felix put the water on the side table, situated one of the ice packs as gently as he could on Max’s knee, and deposited the other ice pack and the pretzels next to him.
“Damnit,” Max hissed, shifting from side to side, careful not to disturb the ice pack. “That hurts.”
“It’ll be better soon,” Felix promised, hoping he wasn’t blowing smoke up Max’s admittedly fine ass. The nurse had told him that if these particular pain meds didn’t do the trick, there were stronger ones that were potentially available. But Felix had a feeling that Max wouldn’t like that. He’d been nervous enough about taking these—but then, severe pain could make people do crazy things.
“God, I hope so,” Max said. He spied the pretzels on the bed. “Are we really going to eat pretzels in bed?”
Felix pinned him with a single look. “You wanted me to watch TV with you. You expect me to starve to death while I do it?”
“Right, you didn’t eat, did you?” Max sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m being an ass.”
“Don’t worry, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and pretzels are about the extent of my cooking ability. Maybe heating a can of soup.” Felix sighed. “We can always order in if we get tired of snacks.”
“Something to look forward to,” Max said, and Felix wasn’t distracted enough to notice that his enthusiasm didn’t sound quite genuine. He was definitely in pain. It wasn’t Felix’s fault, but he felt rotten about it anyway.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Felix promised.
The room he was using was on the other side of the ranch-style house. Guaranteeing—at least for a few days—a bit of privacy. He changed quickly, wishing he had something to put on besides a worn pair of gray sweatpants that were a hair on the tight side. The last thing he needed was to get hard and for Max to be right there. But then, there’d been a time when that hadn’t bothered him. When it had happened and Felix hadn’t worried about it, because maybe Max would notice and offer to give him a hand. Of course, Max hadn’t ever done that, and Felix had to wonder if it was because he was clueless or because he really wasn’t interested.
“It’s because he’s not interested,” Felix told himself firmly in the isolation of his room before he went back to Max’s room. “He wasn’t then, and he isn’t now, and you’ve got to get that through your thick fucking skull.”
Max appeared slightly more comfortable—at least less pale and drawn—when Felix returned to his bedroom.
“You’re right,” Max said, snuggling down further into the pillows as Felix climbed onto the bed, pulling up his sweats to expose the darkening bruise on his knee. He hissed as the extreme cold came in contact with his skin.
“I should record that and use it every time you’re being ridiculously stubborn,” Felix said.
“I do feel a little better.” Max smiled then, wide and a little dopily. Yep, the pain medication had finally begun to kick in.
“Good. What did you pick out to watch?” Felix asked. His eyes were glued to the TV and he felt rather than saw Max’s head slide downward and rest on his shoulder.
“I know you hate comic book movies . . .” Max trailed off.
“We’ll watch whatever you want,” Felix said firmly. Clearly, he was a real pushover. He’d told himself there would be no cuddling, and there was already cuddling, on the first freaking day. What was watching a comic book movie in comparison?
“At least it’s Captain America,” Max continued. “I know you enjoy watching him.”
Felix gestured at the screen. “Have you seen this guy? His ass is a national treasure.”
Clicking play, Max let the remote fall between them. “If I start to snore, wake me up, okay,” he mumbled into Felix’s shoulder.