About twenty minutes into the movie, after eating several large handfuls of pretzels, Max was snoring away against Felix’s shoulder. “It should be me leaning on you,” Felix mumbled under his breath, dealing with the increasing amount of weight Max was putting on him as he leaned further and further into Felix. Like he craved Felix’s closeness, and Felix had been such a dick that he couldn’t get it any other way.
Not true, Felix argued with himself, but it was no use. He knew he’d been pulling away and making things awkward. Maybe in retrospect it would have been better to be honest.
The ice pack fell off Max’s knee with a wet plop.
The biggest problem was that if Felix told even a fraction of the truth, Max would eventually know everything. He wasn’t stupid and even if Felix omitted some of the details, he’d figure it all out in the end.
With that thought in mind, what Felix should’ve done was flip the TV off, scoop up the melting ice packs, put away the pretzels and retreat to his own room on the other side of the house. But he didn’t, and not just because Max looked too comfortable to move. It didn’t even matter that Max’s weight was probably going to give him a strained neck muscle. It simply felt too good, too right to push him away.
Instead, Felix watched the movie all the way to end, all the way until the Captain crashed into the ice and then was rescued all those years later. When the credits started running, Felix finally fumbled for the remote, fingers numb and clumsy with disuse, and flipped the TV off. He hoped that he’d be able to carefully maneuver Max back to his own side of the bed without waking him, but of course, even though he’d been sleeping lights out for at least two hours, his eyes fluttered open as Felix began to slowly nudge him.
“Is it over?” Max asked sleepily, his eyes fluttering barely past half-mast. “Did you watch it all?”
“It turns out that Captain America has more to offer than the most patriotic ass,” Felix said. Trying not to sound defensive. Failing, utterly.
Max smiled slowly, sweetly. “I thought you might think so, if you’d just open your mind to the possibility.”
“How’s the knee?” Felix asked, changing the subject. He didn’t want to think what could happen if Max would just open his mind to the possibilities.
“Hurts, but it’s better,” Max said softly. “Thank you for staying. You didn’t have to.”
Yes, yes, I did.
“Well, will you be okay if I sleep in my room tonight?” Felix hesitated. He didn’t want to offer to stay here—there was only so much masochism that a man could take. But then, if Max really needed him, Felix was prepared to do whatever it took to make him more comfortable.
Max didn’t answer immediately, which was unusual for him. He picked at a loose thread on the deep navy coverlet.
“I’m just afraid I’ll jostle you, or even worse, your knee,” Felix said. He took a deep breath. “The couch is comfy, and I’ll fit on it easily. Why don’t I stay right outside of the room tonight and we can revisit this in the morning?”
Glancing up, Max’s gratitude was written all over his face. “It’s just . . .” He swallowed hard. “I do need to pee. And I’ll probably need to do it again. What if I need another pain pill?”
“It’s fine, you’ll be fine. Let’s . . .” Felix looked around for the crutches he’d stashed in the corner when they’d arrived back at the house. “Let’s just get you up, and I’ll help you crutch over to the bathroom.”
“I don’t think I could move my knee even if I wanted to,” Max said wryly as Felix hovered, watching as he slid closer to the edge of the bed and carefully moved it off the pillows. “This brace has it pretty well secured.”
“That’s good, that’s really good,” Felix said, glad Max didn't seem to be struggling too much with the crutches.
“Just . . .make sure I don’t fall and kill myself, okay?” Max joked.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Felix promised. “Just take it slow, and you’ll be okay.”
Felix made sure the door was open wide enough and stepped out of the way as Max came hobbling in, maneuvering fairly competently around the bathmats and heading toward the little toilet room at the far end. “I’m going to keep the door open, okay?” Max said, his voice echoing into the vaulted ceiling.
“Sure, sure,” Felix said and promptly turned around, hating that he was blushing. He’d seen Max in plenty of states of undress. They’d peed together in bathrooms more times than he could even count. But somehow, there was something much more vulnerable about Max right now. Like Felix shouldn’t be intruding, and he was, because he just couldn’t help it.
When Max was done and started to hobble back out, Felix turned. “Everything good?” he asked. “Do you need help with anything?
Max’s smile was rueful. “As good as it can be. I’m just going to brush my teeth and wash my face.”
“You think you’ll be able to sleep?” Felix asked as Max had finished the tasks, trying desperately not to look like he was lurking creepily in the corner, ready to grab Max if he teetered at all.
“Actually, despite sleeping all day, I still feel exhausted,” Max admitted as he turned on his crutches and they slowly began to make their way out of the bathroom.
They finally made it back into the bedroom, Felix following slowly behind Max and his crutches, trying valiantly not to stare at his ass covered in baggy athletic shorts. Even in the most unappetizing clothing possible, it was still delectable.
“Well, hopefully you can get a good night’s sleep.” Felix mentally calculated the number of hours the pain medication was supposed to last and the amount of time since Max had taken one last. He was definitely going to wake up very early tomorrow morning in pain. Felix resigned himself to setting an alarm and making sure that Max took one.
Max glanced over at him. “You have a look.”
“A look?”
“Like you know something I don’t.”
Felix shot him an unimpressed glare. “I know plenty you don’t. Like everything about your own freaking band.”
“True,” Max conceded, pulling off his white T-shirt, suddenly making Felix’s throat dry with so much fucking want it was pitiful. “But this seems very specific.”
“How about this?” Felix said. “If you wake up in the middle of the night, and you’re in pain, I’m going to leave a pill right here.” He pointed to a spot on Max’s bedside table. “And a bottle of water. Please take it. Don’t be a hero.”
“A hero?” Max raised an eyebrow.
“You know what I fucking mean. Don’t pretend that you’re a big powerful man who doesn’t feel pain, who can live without the meds, just because you have some excessive testosterone, okay?” Felix grumbled. “I don’t want to have to set an alarm for 3 a.m. just because I think you might try to get all noble on me.”
Max stared. “You’re really worried about this.”
Felix stared back. That familiar tension that had evaporated during the last few months, only to be replaced by awkwardness, was back between them in spades. For so long Felix had believed it was sexual tension. Maybe it still was, but he’d had to come to terms with the fact that it was only one-sided.