Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]

[asscreedkinkmeme]

We're about to reach the posting limit on pt.1&2, this is for those who wish to continue/write on prompts on both these parts.

Writers! It is your responsibility to link back to the original prompt.

There are no request in this part of the meme.

List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Discussion

Comments

Tutorial [3/5]

[(Anonymous)]

Her name was Rebecca Crane, and she was not what he expected. Or she was how he had expected before, when he still thought she was out of her tiny mind.

He’d trudged through the city after escaping the van, been found and beat up by the guards, took one out and lost the other one again, and finally made it to the abandoned rail station where her car was parked (no way in bloody hell, he thought, certain he’d be better off chancing it with Rikkin than riding around in that beat-up health hazard). She wore huge glasses with zebra-print frames, an offensively yellow shirt, green cowboy boots. Her hair was white blonde and came together above her eyebrows like a widow’s peak secretly yearning to become a hood. The whole effect was a rather jarring.

She hugged him without asking, but firmly, like perhaps she grew up surrounded by older brothers. And her eyebrows were black. The last thing Shaun remembered was hoping beyond hope the blonde thing was a wig.

They stopped for food at a small hole in the wall café on the outskirts of the city. Rebecca saddled him with a pair of ill-fitting spectacles and a huge coat to hide the cuts and the mess where the Abstergo thug shot at him and only mostly missed. Then she helped him out of the backseat, where Shaun gathered she had hid him under a blanket after he passed out.

They sat at a table by themselves, away from the front windows. A matronly woman served them food (and an espresso for Shaun) with an air of disapproval (mostly at Shaun). They kept their heads down until she went back to the kitchen.

“I was gonna level with you about some things, but maybe you should go to the restroom and clean up a little first,” Rebecca suggested before he could begin. “You know. Before they throw us out.”

Shaun nodded and kept his face blank until he squeezed into the small closet bathroom and locked it behind him. Then he allowed himself to cringe as much as he pleased while gingerly peeling off the coat and sweater and white shirt. The stark bulb hanging over the sink made it look worse than it was, surely. With the cuts, the bloody mess of his arm, the dirt and bodily fluids (not all his), he looked like… well, he looked like hell. His vaguely unhealthy I-haven’t-seen-the-sun-in-months-and-not-because-I-haven’t-been-outside English skin tone didn’t help. The bruises were going to be coming up nicely in a few more hours.

He’d just leaned away from the mirror with a sigh when the door clicked and suddenly Rebecca herself was there with him in the bathroom.

“Christ!” he swore and covered himself in a thoughtless moment of panic. He very determinedly lowered his hands down to his sides. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Shh!” she said and set a first aid bag on the counter. Her white hair glittered like an acid trip in the yellow bathroom light. “I thought you could use an extra set of hands. Jesus, Shaun, what was that, a shotgun?” She turned him around and frowned at his arm.

“Was it? I don’t suppose you could tell me if I’m going to lose that arm or not,” he said, trying for bravely wry.

She snorted, smiled. “No way. This looks bad but it’s all soft tissue damage. We just need to clean it out.”

There really was not enough room for two people in the bathroom. Shaun pushed himself up on the sink and let his legs hang on either side of her as she leaned against the counter. She pulled a set of tweezers from the bag Shaun was suddenly in danger of passing out again. “Whoa, easy. I’m not performing surgery, here.” The tweezers were replaced in her hands by antiseptic and gauze. “You’re not squeamish are you?”

He took a deep breath and the desire to faint retreated. “No. What gave you the idea?” The last word ended in a grunt as disinfectant-soaked gauze touched his arm. “So,” he said quietly. “We may as well start. You’re trying to fight back against Abstergo, which is some sort of cover operation for the Templars…”

Her eyebrows rose. “Hey, not bad. That’s actually a lot farther than I thought you were. That’ll make explaining things way simpler.”

“My question is,” Shaun said, staring at her green boots, “you can’t actually be an Assassin, can you? You’re not serious?”