"Don't talk about your cousin ovulating," Altaïr admonished, taking the stool beside Malik and resting his elbows on the island. "And what did you bring?"
"Minestrone for the sicky, some shrimp scampi for you and Kadar," Desmond reported, placing a bowl in front of Malik and a container in front of Altaïr. "No peppers for you, Kadar," Desmond continued, grabbing another container with a large K sprawled across it. Kadar took it happily, settling himself at the table and digging in immediately.
The soup did look good. And Malik knew it would be good. But, at that moment, he just didn't want to eat. The thought about earlier, all the vomiting and sweat and tears, made the idea unappealing. If stomachs could frown, Malik was certain his would be.
"What's the matter?" Altaïr asked, voice quiet to avoid disturbing Kadar and Desmond's conversation. The boys were fast friends, dealing with overprotective, short tempered older brothers. Said older brothers used to take advantage of the friendship in order to sneak off and do dirty, dirty things to one another. But now, it was comfortable. The happy family that neither of them ever had.
Altaïr's free hand settled at the small of Malik's back, rubbing soothing circles. And, well, that felt nice. It even got Malik to take a few spoonfuls of soup, despite his lack of hunger. "Did Ezio tell you the news?" Malik asked after he swallowed, attempting to contribute to the conversation instead of staring down his dinner.
Desmond's expression was so similar to Altaïr's it was creepy--a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Yeah, he stopped by to tell Claudia. I heard him from my side of the duplex," Desmond said with a short laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. Another action that was eerily similar to Altaïr. "Then he came over, but I didn't let him stay long. Shawn's even more of a bitch when sick."
"Sounds like someone I know," Altaïr hummed out, earning himself a sharp jab in the ribs from Malik's elbow.
"You deserved that," Desmond pointed out, leaning back against the counter with his hands on either side of his hips for balance before pushing himself up to sit on the clean surface. "But I'm happy for him. It was kinda obvious that it was going to happen sooner or later. Especially after Ezio accidentally gave Leonardo crabs and they still stayed together."
Malik smirked faintly. "Leonardo still hasn't forgiven him for that one."
"And I learned a new word!" Kadar chimed in. "Granchi. Sounds kinda like raunchy... which is what that entire situation is."
"Amen," Desmond agreed, kicking his feet enough to make him bang his heels against the cupboards. A stern look from Altaïr had him stopping, though, dipping his head sheepishly and jumping down. "Well, it's been fun. But I should leave. You know, Shaun's sick and all."
Altaïr's frown was a generous one, coming to stand, as well. "You just got here," he protested, even as Desmond ignored him and grabbed his coat.
"I know, I know. But hey, I'll swing by this weekend, okay?" Desmond soothed, smiling at his brother. Altaïr didn't look pleased, and Malik knew he wasn't, but he wouldn't argue about this subject. That would mean that he would have to admit how deeply he cared about his brother, and how upset he was that they hadn't seen each other in quite some time.
"Fine," Altaïr said, sitting back down and motioning to Kadar. "Take him, too."
(Malik/Altaïr, mpreg) Untitled, 1.j/?
"Minestrone for the sicky, some shrimp scampi for you and Kadar," Desmond reported, placing a bowl in front of Malik and a container in front of Altaïr. "No peppers for you, Kadar," Desmond continued, grabbing another container with a large K sprawled across it. Kadar took it happily, settling himself at the table and digging in immediately.
The soup did look good. And Malik knew it would be good. But, at that moment, he just didn't want to eat. The thought about earlier, all the vomiting and sweat and tears, made the idea unappealing. If stomachs could frown, Malik was certain his would be.
"What's the matter?" Altaïr asked, voice quiet to avoid disturbing Kadar and Desmond's conversation. The boys were fast friends, dealing with overprotective, short tempered older brothers. Said older brothers used to take advantage of the friendship in order to sneak off and do dirty, dirty things to one another. But now, it was comfortable. The happy family that neither of them ever had.
Altaïr's free hand settled at the small of Malik's back, rubbing soothing circles. And, well, that felt nice. It even got Malik to take a few spoonfuls of soup, despite his lack of hunger. "Did Ezio tell you the news?" Malik asked after he swallowed, attempting to contribute to the conversation instead of staring down his dinner.
Desmond's expression was so similar to Altaïr's it was creepy--a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Yeah, he stopped by to tell Claudia. I heard him from my side of the duplex," Desmond said with a short laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. Another action that was eerily similar to Altaïr. "Then he came over, but I didn't let him stay long. Shawn's even more of a bitch when sick."
"Sounds like someone I know," Altaïr hummed out, earning himself a sharp jab in the ribs from Malik's elbow.
"You deserved that," Desmond pointed out, leaning back against the counter with his hands on either side of his hips for balance before pushing himself up to sit on the clean surface. "But I'm happy for him. It was kinda obvious that it was going to happen sooner or later. Especially after Ezio accidentally gave Leonardo crabs and they still stayed together."
Malik smirked faintly. "Leonardo still hasn't forgiven him for that one."
"And I learned a new word!" Kadar chimed in. "Granchi. Sounds kinda like raunchy... which is what that entire situation is."
"Amen," Desmond agreed, kicking his feet enough to make him bang his heels against the cupboards. A stern look from Altaïr had him stopping, though, dipping his head sheepishly and jumping down. "Well, it's been fun. But I should leave. You know, Shaun's sick and all."
Altaïr's frown was a generous one, coming to stand, as well. "You just got here," he protested, even as Desmond ignored him and grabbed his coat.
"I know, I know. But hey, I'll swing by this weekend, okay?" Desmond soothed, smiling at his brother. Altaïr didn't look pleased, and Malik knew he wasn't, but he wouldn't argue about this subject. That would mean that he would have to admit how deeply he cared about his brother, and how upset he was that they hadn't seen each other in quite some time.
"Fine," Altaïr said, sitting back down and motioning to Kadar. "Take him, too."