Malik came home to a surprise on Friday. Altair was there on the couch, not unusual, but his clothes were different and he wore a hooded sweatshirt. Malik had no idea where he’d gotten it. “Ah, you’re home,” Altair said looking behind him and got up from the couch.
Malik looked him over with a raised brow, “Going somewhere?” he asked noting Altair’s sneakers. He didn’t know where those had come from either.
“Maybe,” Altair smirked.
“Maybe isn’t an answer,” Malik informed him.
“It is for me.”
Malik sighed and rolled his eyes, “Just tell me what you’re doing.”
“Running.”
Well that sounded pretty simple and… boring. Altair didn’t do things that were boring, ever. “You mean free running,” Malik said. Altair nodded smugly. “You still have your stitches-
“Not anymore,” Altair continued smugly.
Malik blinked at him, “You took them out?”
“Yep, all by myself,” and Altair raised up part of his sweater and shirt to show where he had had stitches. The scar was pretty much healed over by now and Malik’s not so great stitching had left a bit of a jagged line on the skin. “Wanna come with?” Malik opened his mouth to say no, he was tired, “C’mon,” Altair said giving him his most pleading look that just made Malik annoyed because it was one of those looks he couldn’t say no to.
“Fine,” he said.
“Yes,” Altair beamed, “Go change,” and he pushed Malik towards his bedroom.
“You are so up to something,” Malik called over his shoulder, “Don’t think I don’t know!”
“I have nooooo idea what you’re talking about,” Altair said and when Malik glanced back over to him he saw Altair leaning against the front door, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Malik closed the door behind him pointedly and he heard Altair laugh.
Allowing himself a secret smile once the door was between him and the Syrian, he pulled off his work clothes, throwing them into the hamper and pulled on some more comfortable clothes that he could run in including sneakers which he rarely wore, if only because it was easier to just wear slip-ons. But real shoes were required for this sort of activity.
Altair was still waiting against the door when he came back out, his dark hood pulled up, “Ready,” Malik said. “Though you sure you want to go before dinner?”
“Work up an appetite,” Altair said looking up so Malik could see his grin and they way his eyes passed over Malik he wondered just what Altair meant for a moment. Malik felt a bit of heat rise up in his cheeks even as Altair turned away and opened the door. Malik followed after, locking the door and was in time to watch Altair jump off the stairs seven steps up, do a twist, and land facing him with his arms spread.
“Very clever, show off,” Malik said trying to sound unimpressed but failing. He walked down the steps normally after Altair who grabbed his hand and hauled him out the door and into the cold Boston evening.
—
It was much later when they finally stopped for the night. The air was sharp and cold against their skin, though they’d both ditched their longer clothes as they built up a sweat. The cold air felt good on Malik’s skin even if it sucked away his body heat and made him shiver a bit as he leaned against Altair. Though he shivered he wasn’t totally cold, his body was still running hot from their run and final climb up to the top of the building they’d found themselves on. He was pretty sure they were in the North End, as he could see the river in front of them and off to their right he could make out the distant lights of Logan International.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (78?)
Malik came home to a surprise on Friday. Altair was there on the couch, not unusual, but his clothes were different and he wore a hooded sweatshirt. Malik had no idea where he’d gotten it. “Ah, you’re home,” Altair said looking behind him and got up from the couch.
Malik looked him over with a raised brow, “Going somewhere?” he asked noting Altair’s sneakers. He didn’t know where those had come from either.
“Maybe,” Altair smirked.
“Maybe isn’t an answer,” Malik informed him.
“It is for me.”
Malik sighed and rolled his eyes, “Just tell me what you’re doing.”
“Running.”
Well that sounded pretty simple and… boring. Altair didn’t do things that were boring, ever. “You mean free running,” Malik said. Altair nodded smugly. “You still have your stitches-
“Not anymore,” Altair continued smugly.
Malik blinked at him, “You took them out?”
“Yep, all by myself,” and Altair raised up part of his sweater and shirt to show where he had had stitches. The scar was pretty much healed over by now and Malik’s not so great stitching had left a bit of a jagged line on the skin. “Wanna come with?” Malik opened his mouth to say no, he was tired, “C’mon,” Altair said giving him his most pleading look that just made Malik annoyed because it was one of those looks he couldn’t say no to.
“Fine,” he said.
“Yes,” Altair beamed, “Go change,” and he pushed Malik towards his bedroom.
“You are so up to something,” Malik called over his shoulder, “Don’t think I don’t know!”
“I have nooooo idea what you’re talking about,” Altair said and when Malik glanced back over to him he saw Altair leaning against the front door, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Malik closed the door behind him pointedly and he heard Altair laugh.
Allowing himself a secret smile once the door was between him and the Syrian, he pulled off his work clothes, throwing them into the hamper and pulled on some more comfortable clothes that he could run in including sneakers which he rarely wore, if only because it was easier to just wear slip-ons. But real shoes were required for this sort of activity.
Altair was still waiting against the door when he came back out, his dark hood pulled up, “Ready,” Malik said. “Though you sure you want to go before dinner?”
“Work up an appetite,” Altair said looking up so Malik could see his grin and they way his eyes passed over Malik he wondered just what Altair meant for a moment. Malik felt a bit of heat rise up in his cheeks even as Altair turned away and opened the door. Malik followed after, locking the door and was in time to watch Altair jump off the stairs seven steps up, do a twist, and land facing him with his arms spread.
“Very clever, show off,” Malik said trying to sound unimpressed but failing. He walked down the steps normally after Altair who grabbed his hand and hauled him out the door and into the cold Boston evening.
—
It was much later when they finally stopped for the night. The air was sharp and cold against their skin, though they’d both ditched their longer clothes as they built up a sweat. The cold air felt good on Malik’s skin even if it sucked away his body heat and made him shiver a bit as he leaned against Altair. Though he shivered he wasn’t totally cold, his body was still running hot from their run and final climb up to the top of the building they’d found themselves on. He was pretty sure they were in the North End, as he could see the river in front of them and off to their right he could make out the distant lights of Logan International.