Malik looked down to his hands, the working one clenching, and clammy with sweat. His brow knotted and he bit at his tongue whilst sucking his teeth and pursing his lips. His knuckles whitened, and then flooded with colour when he relaxed his grip. “Prove it.” He finally said, and looked back up Altaïr, visibly nervous but attempting to hide it behind his rigid posture.
The Grand Master's eyebrows raised, and he saw Malik falter slightly, biting the inside of his lip and retreating into himself, inch by inch with each second passed. He steeled himself for a rejection, which he would no doubt use as evidence that he, Altaïr, was lying. Scrabbling for control Altaïr tried to think of how he could prove the future, and, as strange and alien as it sounded, prove his affections.
Malik had never been a material person. If you bought him something beautiful and practical then there was a possibility that he would take to it, and as a consequence take to you, but this was rare to come across. At the time of Altaïr's confession he had been contented with his words and an embrace, but the assassin had a feeling that this younger Malik would not be contented with such a small gesture. Especially as this Malik was hormone driven, attracted to him, free of the exhaustion they had both felt at twenty-six, and an illusion of the Apple all too ready to turn malicious.
“And how would you have me do that?” Altaïr asked, testing the waters and pushing himself to sit up. Malik had the chance to stand down, but did not take it.
“How did you prove it to me the first time?” Malik asked quickly.
“I told you, and then we embraced.”
“...I want more than that.”
Altaïr heaved a deep sigh. “I thought you might say that.”
3; The soothe [5/?]
The Grand Master's eyebrows raised, and he saw Malik falter slightly, biting the inside of his lip and retreating into himself, inch by inch with each second passed. He steeled himself for a rejection, which he would no doubt use as evidence that he, Altaïr, was lying. Scrabbling for control Altaïr tried to think of how he could prove the future, and, as strange and alien as it sounded, prove his affections.
Malik had never been a material person. If you bought him something beautiful and practical then there was a possibility that he would take to it, and as a consequence take to you, but this was rare to come across. At the time of Altaïr's confession he had been contented with his words and an embrace, but the assassin had a feeling that this younger Malik would not be contented with such a small gesture. Especially as this Malik was hormone driven, attracted to him, free of the exhaustion they had both felt at twenty-six, and an illusion of the Apple all too ready to turn malicious.
“And how would you have me do that?” Altaïr asked, testing the waters and pushing himself to sit up. Malik had the chance to stand down, but did not take it.
“How did you prove it to me the first time?” Malik asked quickly.
“I told you, and then we embraced.”
“...I want more than that.”
Altaïr heaved a deep sigh. “I thought you might say that.”
A/N: Aaannd that's all for now.
/scurries off into non-existence yet again