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The thing about Max's trauma is that it's Chloe's fault she has it. Max always insists that's not true, but it is. Like, obviously it's also the fault of whatever mysterious entity gave Max her powers—that cosmic fucker can take a good 60% of the blame as far as Chloe’s concerned—but in the end, the reason Max cries in bed at night is because her dreams show her Chloe getting killed over and over, and none of that would’ve happened if Chloe weren’t such a chronic fuck-up.
So when Chloe wakes up at four in the morning to the sound of Max’s hitching breath next to her, she tamps down the instinctual panic she feels and tells herself, firmly: you are the calmest motherfucker that ever existed. She reaches out across the bed and sets her hand gently on Max’s back. “Max?”
Max doesn’t say anything. She’s lying on her side with her back to Chloe, so Chloe lifts herself up on one arm and leans over to look at her face. Max’s face is tear-streaked, crumpled, and her eyes are twitching frantically underneath their closed lids.
Oh fuck, she’s still asleep. Still trapped in some shitty nightmare that three months and a thousand miles of distance from Arcadia Bay hasn’t been able to erase. Chloe tamps down her instinctual urge to shake Max’s shoulder and cut off the shitty dream instantly. She’s tried that before, and Max just wakes up miserable and confused. “Max,” Chloe says again, softly, rubbing Max’s warm shoulder in its thin cotton t-shirt. “Maximus. It’s okay, you’re just dreaming.”
The misery on Max’s face doesn’t change. Whatever she’s hearing inside her head is louder than Chloe’s calmest-motherfucker-alive voice. “Okay,” Chloe says, still keeping her voice calm. “You’re ignoring me. That’s fair. But don’t forget how annoying I can be when I put my mind to it, right?”
She pulls her pillow over on the bed so its wedged against Max’s pillow and shifts herself over. As carefully as she can, she presses herself against Max’s back. Normally Chloe likes to brat her way into being the little spoon, but right now she wants to surround Max, to attach herself like a snail shell to Max’s back. Chloe wants to be the place where Max can go to burrow and hide. Max’s body is miserably tense as Chloe gathers her close, hugging one arm around her waist. “There we go,” Chloe says softly. “I’m right here, see? Your jerk brain is playing tricks on you.”
She drifts the tips of her teal-painted fingernails up and down Max’s forearm, in that ticklish way that Max always likes when they’re cuddled up on the couch together. She feels a little bit of the tension in Max’s spine soften. “Wake up and talk to me, Max Factor,” Chloe says. “I can argue any shitty nightmare into the ground.”
She hears the rapid hitch of Max’s tears begin to slow. Even if she’s not awake yet, she finally seems to be hearing Chloe’s voice. “I’m always gonna be here for you,” Chloe says. She kisses the sweat-damp hair at the base of Max’s neck. “If your brain tells you otherwise, it’s lying. You’re my Maximum Love. My one-and-only. My One-in-a-Maximillion.”
The sound of Max’s crying stops. Her voice floats up in the dark room, rusty with confusion. “Your what?”
Chloe closes her eyes momentarily in relief. “Hey,” she says. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
She feels Max shift in her arms, rolling over onto her other side so they’re facing each other. Chloe hates seeing the tears splashed all over Max’s cute freckles, and she immediately cups Max’s face in her hands and starts to thumb the wetness away. “Sorry,” Max says, wiping at her nose. “I was having a shitty dream.”
“I figured,” Chloe says. She leans in and kisses the last trace of tears away. “I didn’t want to wake you up too fast like last time, so this time I tried annoying you awake. I think it worked pretty well, actually.”
Max’s lips soften into a smile. “You hugging me isn’t annoying,” she says.
“Well, that’s good, because it’s basically my favorite pastime,” Chloe says. She reaches out for Max, and this time Max moves toward her willingly, cuddling up against Chloe’s front with a tender sigh. They tangle their legs together, worm their arms around and underneath each other, until their sleep-warm bodies are as intertwined as they can possibly get. “You think you can fall back asleep like this?” Chloe asks. “Or am I too bony for it to be comfortable?”
“Mmm,” Max hums, snuggling closer. “I think I’ll be okay. My bony Chloe.”
It’s only her armful of soft, warm, sleepy girlfriend that stops Chloe from face-palming. “Oh no,” she says. “I’ve got you doing too, now.”
Max lets out a tender sigh. “Love you, bony Chloe,” she murmurs.
She’s already slipping back into sleep. Chloe kisses the top of her head. “I love you more, Maxibear,” she says, and closes her eyes to join her.