#i'll save that for a different maxcar fic perhaps
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utopiastri · 6 months ago
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Hi, hello!!!
May i request sleep deprivation for the fic prompt, pretty please???? To be honest I'd be so happy with any ship (bc im obsessed with ur writing), but mayhaps landoscar or maxcar???đŸ„șđŸ„șđŸ„ș
Hope you are having a wonderful day!<3
-đŸ’«
đŸ’« anon!!! hi lovely! thank you for the prompt! i hope you're having a lovely day too and i hope you enjoy some maxcar!!!
Of all the people that Oscar expected to bump into whilst walking around Monaco at 5am, he wouldn’t have bet on Max Verstappen.
Or, well, he wouldn’t have bet a lot on Max Verstappen – Monaco’s tiny and Max does live here, so it’s not entirely unreasonable to run into him. But still.
5am.
“Oscar! Mate, hi!”
Oscar does his best not to wince at how cheery Max is. From the way Max’s face falls slightly, he’s guessing he doesn’t do a particularly good job of it.
“Hey, Max,” he says quietly, giving him a tired smile.
“What are you doing up so early? I wouldn't have guessed you were a morning person.”
“Just, um, going for a walk, I guess.”
Max frowns. “Hm.”
He doesn’t elaborate any further. Oscar prays that the street lighting is dim enough for the dark circles under his eyes to stay hidden.
Eventually, when it becomes clear that Max isn’t going to say anything else, Oscar says, “Right, uh, I’ll see you.”
Oscar’s barely even turned around to start walking in the opposite direction when Max calls out, “Wait! What are you doing after your walk?”
Living the Monaco high life, Oscar thinks to himself, going back to bed and tossing and turning for another six fruitless hours.
“Nothing much,” is what Oscar actually says. In fairness, it isn’t exactly a lie.
“I was just finishing up my run. You should come back to mine for some breakfast,” Max suggests.
Oscar gives Max an assessing look and notes that he looks more like a person about to go for a run than one just finishing one up. Max folds his arms and raises an eyebrow, as if daring Oscar to call his bluff.
On another day, maybe Oscar would. But he feels so tired his bones are heavy with it and giving in is the much easier thing to do.
“Yeah, ok.”
-
Oscar doesn’t realise that the breakfast invite is a trap until he’s blearily blinking his eyes open a few hours later. Or, maybe ‘trap’ is the wrong word. ‘Trap’ implies that there was some trickery or persuasion involved. Max didn’t exactly have to do much convincing to get Oscar to take a seat on his sofa. And Max certainly didn’t have to do much convincing to get Oscar to let his eyes flutter shut, since they were very much doing that of their own accord.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Max calls from the kitchen. Oscar slowly begins to register where is. He bolts upright when he realises that he managed to fall asleep on Max’s sofa when the poor man had only invited him in for a pastry and some coffee.
“Shit, Max, I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to stand up from the sofa and only managing to almost fall flat on his face, his legs getting twisted in a knitted blanket Max must’ve thrown over him. His face flares bright red and he refuses to look in Max’s direction.
Unfortunately, Max has other plans. He feels Max’s gaze burn into the side of his face until finally Oscar looks up and meets Max’s eyes. He’s smirking ever so slightly.
“No apologising. You needed sleep and, for whatever reason, you cannot get it at home. So you slept on my sofa.” Max says it so matter-of-factly that Oscar almost finds himself nodding along.
“No, wait,” Oscar shakes himself and reminds himself that this is ridiculous, “Max, it wasn’t fair, or, I mean, it was rude of me to fall asleep on your sofa.”
“No, it wasn’t, I didn’t mind.”
Oscar groans slightly. “Well, maybe, you should mind.”
A calculating look appears on Max's face. “To clarify," he says, "You object to the part where you fell asleep on my sofa?”
“Yes,” Oscar says firmly.
“Fine. I agree you should not fall asleep on my sofa.”
“Good.”
“You should fall asleep on my bed.”
“What?” Oscar splutters staring at Max, “Hang on.”
However, Max is too busy grabbing Oscar by the arm and frogmarching him through his flat to take heed of Oscar's request for him to hang on. Oscar’s so bewildered by this turn of events he doesn’t even fight the manhandling that much. Before he knows it, he finds himself sat down on Max’s giant bed, staring up at him.
Max is smirking again.
“There, problem solved. You can’t fall asleep on the sofa if you’re asleep in my bed.”
“Max,” Oscar starts.
Max raises an eyebrow ready to counter whatever Oscar’s next argument will be. Oscar sighs.
He knows when he’s beaten. Max smile grows even wider.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me." He turns to leave but Oscar, almost without thinking, grabs his hand before he can.
His skin starts tingling where it's touching Max's and he does his best to ignore it. Oscar swallows. “Stay?” he asks, voice nothing more than a whisper.
Oscar thinks he might have found the one thing to say that would catch Max off-guard, even if that wasn’t his intention. His expression doesn’t shift, but Oscar can just about make out two dots of pink high in Max’s cheeks.
“Are you sure?”
“Stay,” Oscar repeats, less of a request and more of a command.
Max takes a second but eventually nods and crawls into the other side of the bed. Oscar carefully arranges his body so it's not touching Max's at all and then has to do his best not to react when he feels Max reach out and gently interlock their fingers. “Sleep,” he whispers.
Oscar convinces himself the kiss he feels pressed to his forehead is purely induced by sleep deprivation.
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