Title: Roses and Cinnamon
Author: amberbluebell
Recipient: graspthethorn
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Simone/Max
Summary: She closes her eyes as he snakes his arms around her waist. “Let me go,” she objects weakly, but tilts her head obligingly as he dips his down close.
Rating: PG
Warning(s): SIMONE/MAX
Word Count: 560
Author's Notes: Oh, god. Of all the possibilities, it just had to be von Altencest, didn’t it? *facepalm* ONLY FOR YOU, ROSE! <333

Smooches to S for beta-ing. Thank you!





Max snaps to attention when the front door opens. He straightens in his chair and glances at the long-discarded papers on the coffee table - so much for getting any work done tonight – and listens as his mother and Ant—Rafael, he reminds himself again, talk in the hallway. He can’t hear properly – their voices are low – but he feels a childish, burning resentment that they are speaking in Spanish. Simone always enjoys that, Max knows, and he seethes as he pictures Rafael leaning close to her, lips barely brushing her skin as he charms her with it.

He rubs his hand over his eyes, trying to banish the image from his mind, and is glad to hear them bid each other goodnight. One set of footsteps disappears up the stairs, and Max gulps the last of the cognac he’s been nursing all night, getting to his feet as Simone walks into the room. She stops abruptly, surprised to see him, but smiles warmly as she drapes her coat over the back of the sofa. “Maximilian! What are you still doing up?”

Max ignores her question. “You had a good night with Rafael, I take it.” He can’t keep the hint of displeasure out of his voice.

Simone doesn’t seem to notice, and she perches on the arm of the sofa, smiling even wider. She looks for all the world like a schoolgirl, and it makes Max’s insides twist. “Mother.” He interrupts before she can speak.

The smile drops from her face at the sharpness of his tone. She sighs, exasperated. “Oh, not this again, Maximilian! Herr Suarez and I are simply enjoying each other’s company. This jealousy of yours is ridiculous!”

Max softens his expression, and considers his words carefully as he approaches her. “I’m just worried, Mother. After the last few months, and Jenny… I don’t want to see you hurt is all.” He places his empty glass on the mantle, and takes her hands. “Let me take care of you, mama,” he pleads.

Simone strokes her thumb over his fingers and gives him a small, wistful smile. “I know what it is you want, Maximilian, and sometimes I even think, maybe…” She shakes her head, dismissing the notion, and pulls her hands free. “I’m tired,” she says softly, and stands to leave.

She only takes one step away before Max’s hand is on her shoulder, holding her in place. She closes her eyes as he snakes his arms around her waist. “Let me go,” she objects weakly, but tilts her head obligingly as he dips his down close. Her perfume smells like roses and cinnamon, and Max smiles against her neck as he breathes it in.

Simone gives him a moment to savour the embrace, then her hands are on his arms, firmly removing them, and he doesn’t object this time. She turns and gazes up into his face, searching his expression, then strokes her hand against his cheek. “Oh, Maximilian,” she murmurs, “my son. My darling.” The air is thick with things that neither of them will ever say aloud. She stretches up and kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth, then pulls back and walks away. She hesitates in the doorway, just long enough for Max to consider stopping her again and taking her back into his arms, but before he dares, she is gone.