#and pretty much every maxiel thing I've written has been for them heh

[ariadynamics]

Once upon a time, I had this Maxiel WIP where Daniel wrote a tell-all book, but then I kind of forgot about it. Then I was thinking about what to write for @danifesting's tiny fic/holiday card, and suddenly I couldn't get that WIP out of my head.

I ended up writing a little more from that universe for Ali, and honestly, I think I actually want to flesh this out and write the full fic??? Anyway, for Ali, who is one of the best, kindest, most wonderful friends I know 💜.

You probably don't need to read the first little bit before reading this, but it's short, anyway!

// Maxiel

There’s a clear distinction between couldn’t and wouldn’t. Still, from how Max clutches the stack of papers in his hands, his knuckles red, burgeoning on purple, Daniel knows it’s not the time to pick apart his words. 

He allows the thought to sit in his chest momentarily before pursing his lips and letting out a soft sigh.

It had never been about his willingness--or unwillingness, from Max’s point of view--to love Max. That Daniel would grow to love Max, would fall in love with Max in a way that shuts the door on other people fully and with deafening finality? That had never been a question.

Max, for Daniel, had been inevitable.

Daniel couldn’t love Max, though. Certainly not then, not when Daniel was still driving and had been so determined to prove to the world that he was someone at the expense of it all--even himself. The Daniel then couldn’t be queer; he couldn’t be interested in men. And he certainly couldn’t be interested in his fucking teammate. 

He feels two sharp tugs at his sweater.

“Uncle Danny?” Issac asks with a slight hesitation in his voice. 

Daniel blows out a breath, dragging the biggest smile he could muster to the surface. “It’s all right, Issac. Why don’t you head on out, yeah? Tell your Mum I probably won’t be coming for supper tonight.”

Issac looks at him, worried. “Are you sure, Uncle Danny?” 

“I’m all good here, I promise,” Daniel says, ruffling the top of Issac’s hair. He gives Max a tired grin. Daniel doesn’t know whether it’s good or bad that Max hasn’t taken his eyes off him at all. “It’s not like Max here will kill me, yeah? We’re just going to catch up.”

His nephew doesn’t look convinced, but after giving Max another once over, Issac nods, grim. “If you get chopped up into pieces, I’m getting your dirt bike collection,” he says before nudging past Max, straight out the door and making a beeline towards the front gates.

“He’s a little intense,” Daniel says, shrugging. He won’t apologize for Issac, not when he still doesn’t know why Max is even here. “Come in; you must be exhausted.” Daniel turns around, walking towards the kitchen, not looking back to see if Max had followed him.

He tries to ignore the relief that pools at the pit of his stomach when he hears the light scuffling of Max’s shoes behind him.

Rummaging through his fridge, Daniel pulls out a carton of orange juice and a water bottle. “You must be thirsty,” he starts, pouring Max a glass. “I’m afraid I’m not fully stocked up yet. Just got here from--”

“I didn’t come here for a fucking drink,” Max interrupts, jaw set. 

Daniel can’t help but mirror Max’s tone. “Why the hell did you come here, then?”

“Did you love me?” Max asks instead of answering, his voice cracking at the edges. “Before.”

His first instincts tell him to run, but Daniel plants his feet harder on the ground. He’s done with running. This time, Daniel wants roots. “Which time?”

Max slams his papers on the kitchen island, the first few loose pages on the top of the heap scattering to the floor. “What the fuck does that even mean? What do you mean ‘which time’?” he asks, shaking. “After you won in Monaco, after I told you how I felt about you. When the fuck else? Are you saying you loved me at any other point in time?” Max spits out the last bit with venom, almost making Daniel recoil.

“Yes,” he says, quiet, but firm. Daniel carefully gathers the papers, squaring them up neatly. He pushes them to the side, making sure there’s nothing on the counter between them. “And yes. Every time, Max.”