#schewpid new years fic... sappy

[gokartkid]

Max’s feet were resting in Daniel’s lap. His hand was skating over the arches of his feet, up and pressing into the bones of his ankles. The house was warm, and he was sinking into the couch.

He still wasn’t used to it; it was December and the sun set at 9pm and the highest temperature of the day was 28 degrees, and he had red peeling skin across his back because he’d forgotten to put on sunscreen.

Isabella yawned performatively in front of them where she was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth on the cushion, and everyone laughed, kindly. There wasn’t much longer to go, the TV screen cutting to a drone circling around the Sydney Harbour bridge. 

“Everyone’s got a drink, yeah?”

Michelle looked around the room checking in. Max nodded, smiling and raising his glass tumblr, still half full of a gin and tonic, crushed mint and a slice of cucumber sitting at the bottom. 

Isaac held up his apple juice self-importantly, sticking his nose in the air.

“I have an apple juice, which is better than orange.”

Isabella screwed up her face, opening her little pink mouth when Daniel cuts them off, laughing.

“Come on guys, don’t bring in the new year fighting or you’ll get stuck that way.”

Isaac looks comically horrified at the idea, fighting his sister for the whole year. Max pokes his toe into the muscle of Daniel’s thigh, right where his tattoo creeps up and under his shorts.

“It’s true,” he adds, and Isabella looks at him with her big eyes, “my sister and I were stuck the whole year fighting once, because you know, of course, you have to be nice when the year goes over or it's very unlucky.”

Michelle looks gratefully over at them. She’d been struggling with them for the past week between Christmas and New Years, frazzled with all the housework she was doing to help Daniel’s mum, and the two kids getting increasingly under her feet. They reminded Max of baby birds sometimes, chattering up with endless energy and need for attention.

There’s only a few minutes until the countdown starts. They’d decided not to get fireworks of their own this year, Daniel said, while they were walking around the field.

“It scared the dogs too much, y’know,” he was scratching at the back of his head, squinting up into the sky, “and we can watch basically the same thing on the TV so why not.”

Max slipped his hand into Daniel's where it was hanging by his side.

“I think it’s a lovely idea.”

It was nice to be sitting around on the couch, chatter filling the empty pockets of air, and not to mention the bliss of indoor air conditioning. Standing outside when the weather was hot and muggy; that was probably one of the worse experiences Max could think of. 

That, and the mosquitoes that seemed to love him, leaving their red-and-white bites up his legs. One had gotten right in the joint between his fingers, and he’d been so annoyed all day, the tingling irritation hanging onto the back of his brain.

Daniel’s hand rests in the curve of his knee, and he taps his index, a silent invitation.

Max pushes his fingers in to intertwine them, brushes the callus of his thumb up and over his knuckles. He can just see the curve of Daniel’s smile from his angle, how it bunches up the muscles in his cheeks, makes smile lines wrinkle out from his eyes.

There’s a half demolished cheese-board on the table still, most of the snacky bits gone but for random squares of cheese, and stray cut up bits of salami.

Max feels older than he ever has, struggling to keep his eyes open with every blink, the slow creeping exhaustion of not having stayed up this late in months crawling up on his skin. He feels like his brain is moving sluggishly as he sips from the sweating glass in his hand, liquid blissfully cold.

“There it is!” 

Isabella points at the TV, gets all of their attention. 

Daniel squeezes his hand.

“5!”

Everyone is smiling at each other as they count down.

“4!” 

Max sits up, pressed his thigh into Daniel’s.

“3!”

Michelle slips to the ground to sit on the rug between her two kids.

“2!”

Daniel turns to look at him, skates his hand up to sit at the curve of Max’s waist, fingers pressing into the softness of his body.

“1!”

He closes his eyes into the kiss as the fireworks go off, cheers erupting around the room. Daniel’s lips move against his, dry and chapped, his stubble just growing out from when he shaved that morning. He cups his hand around Max’s neck, pecks him again once, twice.

Max opens his eyes to see Michelle cuddling her kids into her chest, peppering their little blonde heads with kisses. Daniel’s parents are hugging, and swaying behind the couch.

Daniel is looking at him, and his smile is soft, and his hand is still on his neck, thumb rubbing small circles into warm skin.

“Happy new year Max.”