It's about time people realize the duality of man. Max "Media and entertainment interests are overly invasive, please respect my privacy" Verstappen and Daniel "do I really have to talk to the media after my awful race" Ricciardo are the same people as Max "I will reference a gay dating app and literally take off my shirt and pull down my pants on camera as long as is on my terms" Verstappen and Daniel "I will make a RPF headphone and ugly T-shirt advertisement with a football player I'm obsessed with" Ricciardo. Honestly. Someone help them.
roman empire au. this drabble is much later in the story but daniel was an emperor and josh was a gladiator. this makes the au look softer than it is. it is usually painful lolol. au created with my beloved @billscciardo <3
josh/daniel. 1.8k wc
"You should take a look at the shelf by the window."
The voice echoed softly through the bare household, threading through each crack of the old stone walls before fading into stillness.
Daniel was in the next room when he called out, still sifting through today's finds. Josh made his way towards the bedroom, the floor creaking under his steps.
The bedroom was larger than his last, though that wasn't exactly hard to beat. His last room had been a cell— a "quarter," they'd called it at the ludus.
Here, the walls could breathe. Light from outside found them easily, gracing the stone with warmth. It felt strange, almost wrong, to stand in a room that carried a trace of life. The ludus had never known anything like it. It only took.
The thought lingered only for a moment, chased away by a faint breeze making its way in through the window and stirring the dust. He blinked a few times, attempting to clear it from his eyes. Either way, it brought him back to the present, and his original task; the shelf Daniel had mentioned.
He ran his fingers along the shelf's edge. The wood was dry and splintered, but solid enough to outlive its maker. It wasn't full— far from it— but a few books lay scattered across it.
He picked one up, careful not to tear the brittle cover. He blew gently across it, watching the dust scatter off in different directions. The leather was more exposed now, whatever letters were carved into the front now visible.
He didn't open it, he had no reason to.
"Ah, Ovid. Of course you'd be here."
Josh glanced back. Daniel stood in the doorway; leaned against the brittle frame, a faint curve to his mouth, eyes still fixed on the cover of the book. He took a few steps forward until only a few inches separated the pair.
"A poet," he explained when Josh didn't speak, guessing he wasn't familiar with the name. "He wrote about change— Gods who turned men into trees, rivers, stars… that sort of thing."
Josh looked back to the cover, tilting his head as he studied it. He wasn't sure why, but his eyes stayed on it all the same.
Daniel hummed softly, still watching the book in Josh's hands.
"Good pick," he said at last, giving Josh's shoulder a light pat before moving past him to the shelf. "You should take it to bed, it's a calm read."
Josh nodded slowly, fingers tightening around the leather. It creaked faintly, giving Josh's thumb pad a light burn.
"Mm," he hummed, swallowing hard. It burned, but he managed to slip another word. "Perhaps."
Daniel gave a small nod before turning his attention back to the shelf, deciding what book he wanted for himself.
Josh let himself fall onto the bed, book balancing on his chest. The terracotta lamp on the table flickered, throwing a dim light over the cover. He opened it carefully and was met with the first page.
Lines. That's all they were— dark strokes of ink pressed into the aged parchment. He knew they were meant to be words, meant to tell stories that other people could see and understand. But to him, they were just patterns. Fascinating, yet useless patterns.
He traced his index finger over each line, touches feather-light as to not damage anything in the process. He didn't know what else to do; being unable to appreciate the book properly, by reading the heartfelt poetry. So he traced the lines delicately, hoping Ovid would accept this type of devotion instead.
He was still fixated on the page, fingers dragging over the inked parchment carefully when the mattress dipped beside him. He hadn't realised Daniel had chosen a book, nor did he hear the light scrape of his feet against the floor.
"Slow reader, I presume?" Daniel said, the edge of a smile in his voice as he leaned closer. His eyes caught Josh's hand— more precisely his finger that was tracing the page. "Oh— or perhaps you have found a good part?"
Josh froze for a heartbeat, finger still resting against the parchment. The words— the lines— blurred under his gaze. They were no longer the fascinating patterns, they were just a blur. They had no meaning.
"Mm," he managed, the sound small. "Something along those lines."
Daniel hummed in response, satisfied with Josh's answer so he eased back into the pillows, allowing himself to indulge in his own book of choice. The flame from the lamp still flickered across them, though it had dulled a little since earlier.
The household had fallen into another silence, broken only by the faint scratch of turning pages.
Josh tried to act like he was reading, to play the part. He counted between thirty and fourty seconds each time, before moving page. He thought that was believable enough to pass off. Even in that short time frame, he took nothing in. There was only so much tracing he could do, before it all looked the same. It was just lines to him, after all.
He glanced sideways, and it made things worse. Daniel was already several pages in— hell, he was even further ahead than where Josh pretended to be. He shouldn't have been surprised, he knew Daniel was fond of reading, he'd spoken about it many times.
The difference between them felt very vast. Almost as different as they used to be, in their previous lives.
His throat tightened, so he turned another page just to keep his hands busy, but the sound of it— it didn't feel soothing this time, it was more of a dry rasp. Just like he felt in his throat. His fingers pressed harsher into the paper momentarily, hoping the rough texture would ground him.
It didn't.
All he did was dent the parchment, causing another pang in his chest.
"I can't," he said, before he even realised he'd spoken. The words were raspy, barely above a whisper.
Daniel looked up from his book, turning to listen to what Josh had to say. He couldn't say anything though, he had his left hand clamped over his mouth— a self-made muzzle he didn't know how to undo.
"You can't?" Daniel echos, scooting a little closer. He repeats the words back to Josh hoping it'll help coax the rest of the sentence out of him.
But it didn't come.
Josh only shook his head, his hand tightening over his mouth as embarrassment closed around him, thick and heavy. The words sat in his throat, clogging up the airway until it hurt. He had to say something. He could lie, brush it off, make something up— the thoughts only made the weight worse.
After a moment he turned his head, bracing for whatever expression Daniel might wear. He expected to see him with an uncomfortable expression, maybe even one of disgust. The thought of Daniel getting up and leaving also flashed through his mind.
But he was met with none of it.
Daniel's eyes met his, concern and worry mixed within them. His brows tilted in that way that told Josh he wasn't put off by his sudden panic.He watched every nervous tic, pupils flicking down to Josh's shaking hands each time they moved.
He didn't push again. He simply waited— patient and silent. Until Josh was ready to get the words out on his own. It was eerily quiet, there were no more soft rustles of pages flicking; now it was only Josh's shallow, uneven breaths.
It took him a few moments, but he found it within himself to speak up now that he knew Daniel was worried, as opposed to a negative feeling.
"I can't…" he faltered, voice cracking on the word before he forced the sentence out. "I can't read."
Daniel's mouth parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Just a quiet, breath-filled pause— a non-verbal oh.
A few things drifted back to him then, small moments he'd never thought twice about: Josh hesitating whenever Daniel passed him a note, which he'd 'read' suspiciously fast; the way he'd always ask the signs in town said, and offering a reason about his sight being blurry if questioned; the way he'd simply smile and nod when someone read aloud, never joining in.
It all made sense now, slotting neatly into place. Guilt twisted deep within Daniel's chest, stabbing through it. He's never noticed, he'd never even thought to. But of course, it made sense. Josh was a gladiator, he didn't get a privileged upbringing like Daniel.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Josh had lowered his hand, but his eyes returned to the parchment in front of him. If it was possible, he was sure he'd have burnt holes through it by now. He looked smaller, folded in on himself, like the air had gone out of him.
Daniel's chest ached. He wanted to say something that would sound like pity, Josh would hate that. He needed to say something that could make the space lighter, distract Josh from his own thoughts.
He coughed lightly before speaking "You know," pausing, only continuing when Josh's eyes were on him again. "I could read it to you, if you'd like?"
It was hard to see, but his eyes lit up. A small spark rekindling in his sad eyes. He didn't answer right away.
"It's only words," Daniel quickly added. "Nothing serious. Just a story before we sleep."
Josh felt like he could breathe again.
A long, shaky breath fell from his lips. "If you want."
"I do." And for the first time that night, the silence felt like something shared instead of something heavy and burdening.
Daniel moved to the edge of the bed, gently placing his own book on the floor before shifting back against the headboard. He took the book from Josh's lap and flicked back to the first page.
"Here," he muttered softly, patting the space beside him.
Josh didn't hesitate, the mattress dipping beneath him as he shifted onto his left side and scooted a little further down the bed. He didn't look to Daniel for approval, too nervous to do so, and gently placed his cheek against Daniel's thigh.
Daniel's hand hovered momentarily, fingers twitching with uncertainty as he looked down at Josh. Slowly, he let his fingers tangle in Josh's grown-out hair, exhaling deeply as he did so.
"Let's see," he spoke up, pulling himself from the trance he had put himself in.
His voice filled the room softly, low and steady. The language rolled smooth and warm, and Josh felt it more than hearing it: the vibrations from Daniel's chest, the cadence of it humming in his ear; how his accent got thicker the more into the poem that he got; how he spoke as if he had written it, as if he was the one who had been through the journey and emotions.
The lines blurred but not through tears this time, it melted into somewhat of a lullaby. Josh felt the aches in his chest dissipate, the words that caught in his throat had all been said. His eyes slipped closed, and Daniel's hand kept its slow, steady movement through his hair as he read on.
