An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summer always does something to Charles. He’s… looser in a way he can’t afford to be during the season, relaxed in a way Max only sees when they’re alone, behind closed doors. Not so the prim and proper Prince of Monaco with his controlled words and even more controlled smiles, nor is he Il Predestinado with seemingly the weight of the entire world and more on his back.
They’re only about a week into the break, but in that time, Charles had already regained the tan he had lost to long flights and hours dressed in nomex, golden skin now on full display under the hot sun. Constellations of freckles, old and uncharted, decorate Charles’ toned back, from his neck to his defined shoulders. Overgrown hair curls up the back of his neck, fluffy from the humidity and the salt in the air.
That’s not what gets Max though.
Because there’s no way that Charles is in an honest-to-god white sundress right in front of him, gazing at the Riviera and biting into a strawberry like nothing is out of the ordinary.
[Betaed by @amarynas and @leafylore]
