Fic: Fazed (Max/Louie)
Title: Fazed
Fandom: Disney (Max/Louie)
Notes: Continuing with the Max/Louie prompts! This time it was "Louie realizing he likes Max." You should read this first. Also, today is the 69th anniversary of the triplets' film debut, so happy birthday, boys!
Louie was doing okay.
Sure, being caught by his childhood crush snoring in the back of Uncle D’s car like a narcoleptic idiot wasn’t exactly high on his list of Things That Are Awesome, but Max had seemed unfazed. Then again, Max had been raised by Goofy; Louie suspected nothing short of an explosion could faze him.
And anyway, the key word there was childhood. As in, in the past. As in, there was nothing to worry about, even if Max was just as cute now as he had been at fifteen. And even if Louie now knew what that funny giddy feeling in his belly was and why he never got it around girls.
Besides, he and Max didn’t interact that much. Whichever one of the brothers was driving always parked the car himself, and thanks to Huey’s endless primping they were always late, so there was rarely time for more than a wave as they dashed past Max’s little booth. And Max was allowed to leave as soon as the last guest did, while the triplets had to shut down all of their equipment (the House was low on technical staff), which meant that Max was long gone by the time Louie and his brothers staggered out into the parking lot.
So Louie didn’t expect two large, white-gloved hands to reach out and steady the bass drum that was about to fall off the stage and crush him. He followed the long arms in too-short sleeves and found Max standing behind him.
“Hey,” Max said. “You looked like you needed help.” He was so tall that, standing behind Louie, he had only to bend over a little to hold the drum in place. His ears tickled the top of Louie’s head as he spoke.
“Uh, yeah,” Louie stammered. “Thanks.” He ducked out from the arc of Max’s body, where it was too warm to think, and began untangling the cord that had snared the drum and started it falling. “What are you doing here?” Wow, that was rude. “I mean, um. Not that I’m not grateful,” gesturing to the drum, “but you’re usually gone around now.”
Max let go of the drum, which was no longer in danger of falling. “Actually, I’m looking for my dad. His car’s in the shop again, and I’m supposed to drive him home. Have you seen him?”
“Nope,” Louie replied, and understood the look on Max’s face. If Goofy went missing, it was a safe bet chaos would soon follow. “Want me to help you look?”
Goofy wasn’t in the kitchen, the storage rooms, Mickey’s office, Minnie’s office, the men’s room, the ladies’ room (Louie held the door open with his foot, leaned way back to avoid offending any delicate sensibilities, and shouted, blushing furiously the entire time), or the boiler room. Max and Louie regrouped by the stage to plan their next move.
“Okay, let’s get strategic about this,” Louie said. Max paced nervously in front of him. “Where’s the most dangerous place he could possibly be?”
They thought for a minute, then “…The roof!”
Goofy wasn’t exactly on the roof, as it turned out; he was dangling from it, tangled in a mass of Christmas lights, with a bucket on his head that had muffled his cries for help. Louie steadied the ladder as Max climbed it and detangled his father. Max’s voice floated down, low and berating and full of things like “Why were you on the roof?” and “That’s not your job, Dad,” and “Seriously, how did Christmas lights get involved in this? It’s July.”
Squinting against the light of the marquis, Louie was reminded suddenly, sharply, of the first time Uncle D had taken him and his brothers sailing. They’d been attacked by a shark, of course, and Louie could still remember the sharp sense of panic as he and his brothers had frantically lowered a life boat and rowed towards their uncle. A week before they might not have minded if “Unca Donald” had gotten eaten by a shark; that was a week before. Then all he’d known was that Uncle D needed him.
That night in their room, Huey, Dewey, and Louie had agreed that the pranks didn’t have to happen quite as often anymore. No one had ever known what to do with them before, but maybe being needed was all it took.
Now as he peered at Max’s furrowed brow Louie knew he’d been wrong before when he thought nothing could faze Max anymore. Everything fazed him; that was his charm.
“A-ha-ha-hooooey!”
As Max untangled the last string of lights, Goofy came plummeting down and knocked the ladder over despite Louie’s best efforts. The ladder, Louie, and the Goof family crashed to the ground, the top of the ladder digging into Louie’s ribcage.
“Oof.” He pulled himself out from under the ladder and rubbed his head, giving Max a rueful look. “I think we’re even now.”
When Goofy was safely tucked away in the passenger seat of Max’s car, Max and Louie stood in front of the House for a minute.
“So, uh, thanks.” Max said.
“No problem.” Louie kicked at the ground.
“Your brothers take the car?”
Louie followed Max’s gaze to the Duck brothers’ usual spot, now empty. “Yeah, they’ve got some double date.” He didn’t explain why he hadn’t been included in this outing, and Max didn’t ask.
“You need a ride?”
“No thanks, I’m gonna head home with Uncle D.”
“Okay, then. See ya.”
“Bye.”
Max headed towards the car, then stopped and turned. Backlit as he was by his car’s headlights it was almost impossible to make out his expression, but he seemed hesitant.
“We should…hang out sometime,” he said. “You know, outside of the House?”
Louie blinked, startled. “Sure,” he said. “Yeah, that would be great.”
Max smiled, and that wasn’t hard to make out at all.
As the Goofs drove away, “High Hopes” blaring tinnily from the open window, Louie turned and headed back into the House to look for Uncle D. He was halfway to Mickey’s office, where Uncle D was usually throwing a fit about something this time of night, when he realized that he was still beaming, and had been ever since Max smiled at him.
Worse, he had that funny giddy feeling in his belly.
Well, crap.
Fandom: Disney (Max/Louie)
Notes: Continuing with the Max/Louie prompts! This time it was "Louie realizing he likes Max." You should read this first. Also, today is the 69th anniversary of the triplets' film debut, so happy birthday, boys!
Louie was doing okay.
Sure, being caught by his childhood crush snoring in the back of Uncle D’s car like a narcoleptic idiot wasn’t exactly high on his list of Things That Are Awesome, but Max had seemed unfazed. Then again, Max had been raised by Goofy; Louie suspected nothing short of an explosion could faze him.
And anyway, the key word there was childhood. As in, in the past. As in, there was nothing to worry about, even if Max was just as cute now as he had been at fifteen. And even if Louie now knew what that funny giddy feeling in his belly was and why he never got it around girls.
Besides, he and Max didn’t interact that much. Whichever one of the brothers was driving always parked the car himself, and thanks to Huey’s endless primping they were always late, so there was rarely time for more than a wave as they dashed past Max’s little booth. And Max was allowed to leave as soon as the last guest did, while the triplets had to shut down all of their equipment (the House was low on technical staff), which meant that Max was long gone by the time Louie and his brothers staggered out into the parking lot.
So Louie didn’t expect two large, white-gloved hands to reach out and steady the bass drum that was about to fall off the stage and crush him. He followed the long arms in too-short sleeves and found Max standing behind him.
“Hey,” Max said. “You looked like you needed help.” He was so tall that, standing behind Louie, he had only to bend over a little to hold the drum in place. His ears tickled the top of Louie’s head as he spoke.
“Uh, yeah,” Louie stammered. “Thanks.” He ducked out from the arc of Max’s body, where it was too warm to think, and began untangling the cord that had snared the drum and started it falling. “What are you doing here?” Wow, that was rude. “I mean, um. Not that I’m not grateful,” gesturing to the drum, “but you’re usually gone around now.”
Max let go of the drum, which was no longer in danger of falling. “Actually, I’m looking for my dad. His car’s in the shop again, and I’m supposed to drive him home. Have you seen him?”
“Nope,” Louie replied, and understood the look on Max’s face. If Goofy went missing, it was a safe bet chaos would soon follow. “Want me to help you look?”
Goofy wasn’t in the kitchen, the storage rooms, Mickey’s office, Minnie’s office, the men’s room, the ladies’ room (Louie held the door open with his foot, leaned way back to avoid offending any delicate sensibilities, and shouted, blushing furiously the entire time), or the boiler room. Max and Louie regrouped by the stage to plan their next move.
“Okay, let’s get strategic about this,” Louie said. Max paced nervously in front of him. “Where’s the most dangerous place he could possibly be?”
They thought for a minute, then “…The roof!”
Goofy wasn’t exactly on the roof, as it turned out; he was dangling from it, tangled in a mass of Christmas lights, with a bucket on his head that had muffled his cries for help. Louie steadied the ladder as Max climbed it and detangled his father. Max’s voice floated down, low and berating and full of things like “Why were you on the roof?” and “That’s not your job, Dad,” and “Seriously, how did Christmas lights get involved in this? It’s July.”
Squinting against the light of the marquis, Louie was reminded suddenly, sharply, of the first time Uncle D had taken him and his brothers sailing. They’d been attacked by a shark, of course, and Louie could still remember the sharp sense of panic as he and his brothers had frantically lowered a life boat and rowed towards their uncle. A week before they might not have minded if “Unca Donald” had gotten eaten by a shark; that was a week before. Then all he’d known was that Uncle D needed him.
That night in their room, Huey, Dewey, and Louie had agreed that the pranks didn’t have to happen quite as often anymore. No one had ever known what to do with them before, but maybe being needed was all it took.
Now as he peered at Max’s furrowed brow Louie knew he’d been wrong before when he thought nothing could faze Max anymore. Everything fazed him; that was his charm.
“A-ha-ha-hooooey!”
As Max untangled the last string of lights, Goofy came plummeting down and knocked the ladder over despite Louie’s best efforts. The ladder, Louie, and the Goof family crashed to the ground, the top of the ladder digging into Louie’s ribcage.
“Oof.” He pulled himself out from under the ladder and rubbed his head, giving Max a rueful look. “I think we’re even now.”
When Goofy was safely tucked away in the passenger seat of Max’s car, Max and Louie stood in front of the House for a minute.
“So, uh, thanks.” Max said.
“No problem.” Louie kicked at the ground.
“Your brothers take the car?”
Louie followed Max’s gaze to the Duck brothers’ usual spot, now empty. “Yeah, they’ve got some double date.” He didn’t explain why he hadn’t been included in this outing, and Max didn’t ask.
“You need a ride?”
“No thanks, I’m gonna head home with Uncle D.”
“Okay, then. See ya.”
“Bye.”
Max headed towards the car, then stopped and turned. Backlit as he was by his car’s headlights it was almost impossible to make out his expression, but he seemed hesitant.
“We should…hang out sometime,” he said. “You know, outside of the House?”
Louie blinked, startled. “Sure,” he said. “Yeah, that would be great.”
Max smiled, and that wasn’t hard to make out at all.
As the Goofs drove away, “High Hopes” blaring tinnily from the open window, Louie turned and headed back into the House to look for Uncle D. He was halfway to Mickey’s office, where Uncle D was usually throwing a fit about something this time of night, when he realized that he was still beaming, and had been ever since Max smiled at him.
Worse, he had that funny giddy feeling in his belly.
Well, crap.