“Idiot,” and Malik pushed him onto the couch before going back to his room, to his own closet and pulled something out. When he came back to the living room Altair had buried himself in the blankets Malik had supplied. “For an assassin you certainly are terribly prepared,” he said sarcastically, draping the coat over the back of the sofa. “Wear this if you decide to go outside again, it’s getting colder out.”

“Thank,” Altair grumbled seeming unable to get under enough blankets. “Also, I have no idea how to handle really cold weather okay? I grew up in the damn desert, cut me some slack.”

“It snows in Syria sometimes,” Malik said smartly.

“Not where I live smart ass,” Altair growled.

“Fine,” Malik sigh. “Let me see your stitches,” he added, he wanted to make sure Altair hadn’t stretched his stitches by going outside and doing whatever it was he did. With great reservation Altair shrugged off the blankets, obvious he didn’t want to leave their warmth, and lifted up the thin sweatshirt revealing the bandages around the lower part of his chest. Malik leaned down and carefully peeled them back so he could see the stitches and was pleased by what he saw. “Looks good,” he said approvingly and nodded. “What’s in the bag?” he asked as Altair pulled his shirt back down.

“Gear, clothes, passports, money,” Altair said lowly as if not wanting him to hear.

“Passports?”

“Two of-

“Actually, no. I don’t want to know,” Malik held up his hand to stop Altair in whatever he was going to say next.

Altair looked up at him with a worried look and licked his lips. Malik’s eyes followed the quick flick of his tongue across his chapped lips before demanding he look away. He wasn’t doing this. “I expected you to turn me in,” Altair said after a short stretch of silence.

“You and me both,” Malik softly, almost to himself.

“Why haven't you?” Altair asked and Malik really didn’t want to answer that question since it meant having to really think about his reasoning. He didn’t want to know what he’d find in there. Altair seemed to sense this and reached out to grab his hand so he couldn’t escape the question.

“I… don’t know,” he admitted, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I mean, I should, you killed someone Altair,” he said trying to sound like he wasn’t the one in the wrong here.

“He was a bad man,” Altair said firmly.

"Even if he was you cut his throat," he stressed and wasn’t really surprised to not see any guilt in his eyes, "Does that mean anything to you?"

"It’s a job Malik. Just like that boring one you have I have my own, only it isn't boring."

"So you don't care. You're in it for the money."

"I don't get paid for it," Altair said. "Look it is really complicated, more than I could ever really explain and even if I could I wouldn't want too."

"Why?"

"Because it would be better if you didn't know. I don't want you to get hurt because of what you might know," he gave Malik's hand a light squeeze. "Are you going to rat me out?"

"No," he sighed and slumped down onto the couch next to him almost unable to believe he really wasn't. He was ex-military and swore to defend the country yet here he was with a guy who’d killed a politician. But this was Altair and he just couldn't. He knew it was only because it was Altair too, anyone else he wouldn’t have had any issue with ratting out "Just don't say anything to my brother, he might."

"Thanks," and with that same fearlessness Malik remembered leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He looked over at Altair at that and he was smiling that smile that totally melted Malik's heart and made his insides fold in on themselves as they flopped around his gut. It was such a perfect smile and Malik wished he had a camera, or something. Then slowly Altair leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Malik was totally helpless to this and kissed him back for a few heartbeats. God it felt good. So good and right and amazing and perfect and didn’t want it to end.