Chapter Text
Recently, Max is scared.
Perhaps scaredis not the right word... more aware, maybe?
He feels like he's noticing things he wasn't supposed to. It doesn't even make sense to him.
How had he never... nevermind.
Now isnt the right time to think this over.
He hears the faint sound of a car door and the muffled chattering of two people.
Max looks outside the window. The dim Monaco street is barely visible from where he’s cozied up on the couch. Broad shoulders, clad in a dark black suit, almost blend into the shadows, his body facing the person they’re speaking to.
They vanish out of sight till the sound of footsteps gets closer and closer to the main gate. A few more murmurs, and then silence.
No one’s talking now.
The door of the penthouse opens with a creak and shuts.
Quiet again. Except for a soft, distinct click echoing through the still air. The door is locked.
The footsteps, clearer than ever, leisurely walk towards him.
They stop.
Max doesn't know why he struggles to breathe.
It’s just him why the fuck are you scared?
One of the cat meows.
A low, amused chuckle follows.
“Mon petit,” the velvety smooth voice murmurs. “Hungry, are we?”
Sassy answers him back.
Thinking that it's finally time to show his face, Max gets up. Arranges the blanket he was tucked into and bookmarks the page in his book. As he walks towards the door with his fist clenched, heartbeat running fast.
The hallway is dim, but the figure crouched down in the middle is clear as a day, petting Sassy as she purrs and rubs her tiny head against black slacks, leaving her fur along the way as she's adored.
Pretty shades of green look up at him.
Charles smiles, dusts his slacks a little as he gets up gracefully, eyes fixed on Max as he does so. His gaze is intense but the smirk on the handsome face is playful, like he and Sassy were sharing some crude joke just before Max joined them.
“Mon amour.” the voice says. “How are you, beautiful?”
He doesn't flinch when strong hands find the deepest curve of his waist, even putting his own hands on the back of a thick neck. See? Everything’s fine. So what if his muscles are a little more tense.
One hand shifts from the back of his waist, leisurely snakes lower, nearly on his inner thigh. It forces him to lift his leg just a bit, almost as if Charles is about to pick him up.
Max’s hands play with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’m good.” he says softly in the air between them, their faces are so close, nose just short of touching Max, eyes still intense as ever.
How had he never...
Charles presses a soft, lingering kiss to Max’s lips before tucking his head into the crook of his neck, breathing him in.
A low groan escapes him as he nuzzles closer.
“How was work?” Max asks, feeling the slightly chapped lips kiss his neck, “Did Fred keep you late again?”.
Charles huffs in indignation at the mention of his boss, his breath warm as it ghosts near the back of Max’s ear, sending a soft zip down his spine. The hallway seems still. Sassy is nowhere in sight either. Max eyes close, squirming when the feeling in his stomach intensifies, can't tell if it's anxiety or pleasure. He gasps quietly when the hand on his inner thigh presses hard, fingers gripping his skin firmly under his shorts.
The quiet is broken only by his husbands croon.
“I missed you.” Words brush against his ear intimately, “Missed you so much.”
“Fred's annoying.” sharp teeth nip his earlobe, max winces. “Didn't let me leave even when I told him you were sick”
Almost instinctive, Max chuckle at that. He feels Charles perk up a little at the sound.
“I’m here now though,” his husband murmurs, lips brushing against his temple. “No more Fred. No more work. Just you and me.” The warmth of his embrace feels like home again. For a moment it cancels out any lingering tension in Max, the confusing thoughts from before dissolves themselves, and he feels his shoulder drop. Charles sways them gently. The motion makes Max giggle a little, feeling giddy at his actions. Perhaps if they can stay like this a moment or two longer, Max can ignore the reality.
A familiar meow reverberates around them, and the little bubble they were in breaks apart. Sassy is rubbing up aggressively against Charles, demanding attention. Max looks at her and laughs again. The earlier feelings of discomfort don't graze his mind as he enjoys the familiar routine they've built together, “I think she missed you a lot.”
Charles looks back from sassy, exaggerating his frown. “And you didn't?”
Max rolls his eyes and leans in to give his husband a cute peck on his lips. “I see you every day, nothing to miss, really.” he shimmies out the tight hold.
“Go change, I’ll feed you.” Max closes the fridge and looks over his shoulder at Charles. “I, uh.”
Charles is fiddling with his cufflinks when he looks back. “Yeah?”
“I let Marc take his vacation early, so I cooked today. It's been a while, so I hope it isn’t bad.” Max arranges the plates while he talks. He doesn’t look back for any reaction. Hopes Charles doesn't detect the slight tension in his body now. Doesn't let him know the reason he let Marc off early.
Charles hums to himself. “Fair enough. It was long overdue for him anyway.” More fabric shuffling sounds. “Can't wait, I miss eating your food, cheri.”
That's new. He watches as Sassy trails Charles around when he takes off his jewelry and waistcoat. Usually, she doesn't budge from her place, much less for Charles. Maybe she’s hungry.
“I just fed her a few hours ago” Max mutters. Charles sits on a stool to take off his shoes, Sassy on his tail.
“Aye, Mon petit, let me get comfortable first, yeah?” Charles speaks to her so gently. But once he takes Sassy in his arms, since she won't leave him alone, she goes still. Her purring halts and her tail puffs up with what little fur she has. She starts sniffing Charles's wrist aggressively like she just smelled her first meal of the day.
Max frowns in confusion. Is Charles hiding catnip?
Instead of showing concern, Charles lets out an amused chuckle. "Riesci a sentirne l'odore? Il sangue del bastardo?" He keeps his gaze on her.
“I think she’s hungry. I’ll get her food. I don’t know what’s with her today, she’s acting crazy with you.”
Sassy meows when Charles takes his hand away from her.
Even as he puts down the food bowl for his cat, it takes some encouragement for Sassy to let go of Charles, she sniffs around him like a hound on a hunt while Charles watches her like this is the most amusing thing that’s happened to him all day.
“Crazy kitty” Max mumbles softly, watching her gobble down the meat.
He's setting the plates when Charles walks out their room, he changed into a soft cotton shirt with grey sweatpants. He looks so relaxed, hair loose and messy, charming crinkles under his eyes. Max wants to instantly borrow back in those strong arms.
As he begins to settle beside Charles, a hand grabs his waist and gently pulls him into a warm lap.
“We eat like this,” when Max only sighs in response, Charles leans back, satisfied with their arrangement.
It’s midnight. Max had given up thinking Charles would show up early when it struck nine, so he had already eaten dinner, but his mouth still opened automatically when Charles brought the fork toward him after taking a bite for himself. "It's delicious baby, you never disappoint." Max preens quietly.
Jimmy joins them soon, stretching his spine as he lazily cruises toward Sassy, mischievous eyes on her bowl.
“It's quiet today.” his husband muses. Max shifts in his lap. “You know I was wondering, if you’d like we can also go on a little vacation.”
Max snaps his head up, finds Charles eyes already in his direction, catching him off-guard. “Vacation?”
They haven't been married for long, five months to be exact, so going on a vacation this early after honeymoon wasn't on Max’s plans.
Besides, this complicates things. Max wanted them alone. Wanted to talk to Charles about the things worrying him. He thought if he told Charles about his growing anxiety, maybe, just maybe Charles would reassure him that it was all in his head. That late at night he genuinely does go to work in his office. That the man following Max when he goes outside, who never attacked but was always somehow present was just a hoax. The blood-stained rugs he found in the bathroom, stuffed far in the cupboard, were just some kind of liquid max was unaware of. He just wants reassurance from his husband, he does not want his anxiety to take a physical form and haunt his marriage. This is why he let the staff go, and let Marc take his off early.
Fingers slide under his chin, lifting his face back up when he drifted off to his thoughts. A rough thumb caresses his bottom lip. The faint smell of disinfectant gives him goosebumps and his hackles rise again.
“What's wrong baby?” Max tries a smile, “It's the headache.” he tells Charles, “I took some medicine before you came, but I guess it’s taking a while to kick in.”
Charles tuts, thumbs still grazing the corners of his mouth, the dark beauty mark he's obsessed with. “Poor thing,” he coos, “We go to a doctor later, you're so exhausted these days it’s worrying me, sweetheart.”
He is very exhausted. It happens when you spend a week thinking you have a stalker on your tail every time you step outside, even just to put the trash out. Max had meant to tell Charles about it. He really had. The incident has spooked him to the point he stopped going out altogether, never leaving without Charles. But then more concerns started piling up.
Charles getting out of the bed in the middle of the night, slipping away from Max carefully. Not coming back till morning, just minutes away where Max wakes up. He did ask about that.
Where do you go in the middle of the night?
Just work, Mon amour. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just some men at the office bugging me, too spoiled.
He wasn't home, Max checked the second time it happens. He lied, Max thinks, as he lays motionless on the bed, watching the ceiling change colors from the streetlights, shadows dancing.
Did I bore him so quickly that he is out there with some else?
No, he thinks.
That man looks at him with so much love in his eyes that Max has to close his own to breathe evenly.
He who cried in his arms with relief after Max told him he loved him for the first time. Who, sometimes, can barely stand on his own feet when he comes home exhausted, but somehow still finds the energy to make Max laugh and smile while they wash dishes beside each other. The charming, romantic guy who brings him a bouquet of fresh Red Roses every week, takes him on luxurious dates, spoils him, and does not waste a second telling how much he adores Max, how much he is devoted to him. Not the Charles that kisses every part of his body like a grateful worshipper who's given the most beautiful fruits of his labour. Not him.
In the back of his head, his insecurities still linger sometimes. He ignores them.
What was it then? Why the strange behaviour? What changed? What part of Charles didn't get when they made a vow to never lie to each other? When they promised to give each other everything? The best and the worst.
Why hide then? Is he hurt? Is there an issue with his business? Anything, he would beg for anything. Just not brushing him off constantly, please. Not the same excuses.
Max is so scared sometimes, there is a shift in Charles's eyes now, something sharper, more intense. Like he is feeling the reality around him for the first time. Sometimes... sometimes he looks at Max like a revelation. Sometimes he lingers so close, as if the moment Max is out of sight, he'd go insane. Max feels foolish just thinking about it. How can it be even possible that Charles shifted his personality overnight? but... the blood stained clothes, the nights Charles disappears, the unfamiliar men lingering around Max. Everything feels so secretive now.
Max doesn't know what's happening. His instincts tell him something is wrong. But then Charles acts the same again, loves the same, smiles the same and Max relaxes again. Only to seize up the next time he says something completely out of the ordinary.
He just wants his husband back.
But he didn't go anywhere, the voices says, he’s still your husband, the man you married
But he's not., Max argues back, something changed.
Looking at Charles, the slight bump on his straight nose, the scruff on his face that he hasn't shaved in a while, the ruffled brown hair, he’s his Charles but he's not his Charles at the same time.
He opens his mouth again as one last bite of food enters his mouth. Charles smiles at him and Max tries to copy his movement.
He can't go like this any longer.