asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]

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assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You need to get out of these clothes so I can see where you're hurt," he said now incredibly grateful Sam had basically forced him learn all the important stuff he needed to know about giving someone medical help. Then it had been an excuse for them to spend more time together as well as basically turn Malik into a competent set of hands to help Sam when someone got hurt who wouldn’t panic under pressure like some people would. Altair nodded mutely and with Malik's help they got him out of that costume so he was naked from the waist up though Malik barely noticed. "Hold this here," Malik said pressing Altair's hand against a thick pad of gauze over his wound. He checked for an exit wound, there was none. "Where's the bullet?" he asked.

"I dug it out," Altair said softly. Malik winced, he knew that hurt, a lot. He picked up the bottle of pills and handed him two. "What's that?"

"Vicodin, it'll ease the pain," Malik said.

"How the hell do you have Vicodin?" Altair grumbled but took the pills, swallowing them dry.

"My arm still hurts sometimes," he said and was actually relieved Altair couldn't shut up, it meant he was awake. He fished around in his kit and pulled out the alcohol, removing Altair's hand and pouring it down his flank. Altair gave a sharp cry of pain and surprise as Malik cleaned the wound before putting fresh gauze over it and the other man applied pressure while Malik went back into the kitchen washing his hand and grabbed a lighter. "Okay, let me see," he said in a soft voice and Altair removed his hand and gauze, though did so slower, the pain meds were working. Gently he inspected the wound, which continued to leak blood, and was satisfied it wasn't dirty. He rapidly dug a needle and some thread from his kit and saw Altair eyeing it warily. "Its the needle or cauterize it," Malik said.

"Needle," Altair grumbled after muttering curses in Arabic to himself and Malik made him hold the needle with the hand not applying pressure to his wound as he threaded it on the second try. Malik lit the lighter and held it under the needle for a few seconds. "Okay, move your hand," Altair did and hissed when Malik made the first pass through his skin. After that though he didn't make a sound and when Malik looked up his jaw was clenched. He finished as quickly as he could, tying the thread off when he was done. He rubbed Neosporan gently on the new stitches to keep them clean before bandaging them up. "Okay, all done."

Altair gave a relieved sigh and sat back in the chair slouching, eyes half lidded in probably exhaustion and the meds. He muttered to himself in Arabic but Malik didn't understand most of it. Finally he looked up at Malik through his lashes looking a bit stoned, "Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome, not like I could just leaving to bleed out," Malik said. "What happened?" now that's he wasn't afraid Altair was going to keel over and die in his kitchen he wanted to know.

"I did something stupid on a job. Did the job, some security managed to get a shot off before I could get away, got me," he patted his flank gently but still winced when he did so.

"Why would someone shoot you? What were you doing?"

Altair's eyes were a bit glassy from the Vicodin and it was obvious he'd never been on this sort of pain meds for it to be effecting him this way. "My job," he said.

"And what is it you do?" he asked though almost regretted asking.

Can I like... not care about anoning anymore? Cool, thanks.
--

"Remember when we went to that art museum?" he asked and Malik nodded, "You said you were just going to assume I did something shady since I didn't tell you what I did," Malik didn't but it sounded like something he would say. All he could remember about that was Altair being annoying and being a tour guide in another language with the English subtitles turned off and kissing him in the rain, and the freak out on his part after of course. He nodded anyways. "Well... you were right," he said reaching into a fold of the pants of the costume and pulled out a handgun with a silencer on it. Malik's eyes widened at seeing it. But that wasn't all, he then reached further down and seemed to grab something from around his feet. A second later he tossed a bloodied knife onto the table. Malik stared at it. "I kill people."

Malik's eyes went from the knife and gun on the table to the shirtless man sitting at his kitchen table. At the moment he didn't look capable of walking a strait line let alone killing anyone. "Very funny Altair," he said with a strained smile.

"It'd be more funny if I was joking," he croaked.

"You could have lied," he said.

"I would never lie to you," and Malik looked into those amber eyes of him and knew he was telling the truth. "Others maybe, but not you," his lips worked their way into a tired grin. Malik felt himself flush and hated himself for it. He didn’t want to feel this way, especially not… not about a fucking murderer! He immediately thought wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black since what had he used to do? He’d killed people, it had been his job and he’d been deceptively good at it till he’d lost his arm. It still didn’t make him get goosebumps any less.

"Why did you come here Altair?" he asked thinking that it now made sense that he didn't want to go to a hospital, though why him of all people? Why not his family? Anyone but him really.

"You're the only person I know who lives on this side of the river," he said, "and," he added with a groan as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the chair, "if I was going to die of a gunshot wound I'd rather see you then my pig headed cousin I was staying with.”

"Well there will be no dying on my watch got it?" Malik growled almost teasingly. Why was he doing this?

He smirked, "Yes sir Gunnery Sergeant," he chuckled and gave an imitation of a salute, his hand and arm sloppy and uncoordinated.

Malik sighed but didn't exactly find anything amusing about the situation. "Who did you kill Altair?" he asked almost afraid to ask.

"You'll probably hear about it tomorrow on the news. I can't even remember anyway. The name isn't important," he said at the end like an after thought.

"Why did you then?"

"I was told to. Just a job," he shrugged.

"So what are you? A mercenary?"

Altair snorted, "Something that- I think you'd use the term- 'bush league'? No I'm not," he blinked at Malik and with a totally serious tone and face said, "I'm an assassin."

"No way, I don't believe you."

"I'm serious," Altair said and with those words Malik knew he was telling the truth because every time he said he was serious he always was, even about that last thing he'd promised Malik all those months ago. Here he was, sure he was all fucked up as well as high, but Altair had promised he'd come back... and he had. Malik wasn't even sure how he felt about that either. "Hey Malik?" he asked when nothing had been said for a while as Malik tried to just soak in what Altair had just said.

"What?"

"Do you hate me? I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"I don't hate you, what gave you that idea?" He wanted to though, he felt like he should, but he didn’t. He should be angry at him for being the biggest flake ever but somehow after what had happened with Ezio he couldn’t muster the emotion to be angry at anyone at the moment.

"Nothing," he muttered before asking, "Can I stay here?"

"Like I'd let you leave like that," Malik said smartly and got to his feet suddenly feeling bone tired. "You can sleep on the couch," and he helped the syrian stand. He'd lost a good amount of blood and was weak, Malik realized the Vicodin might have been a bad choice. There was less blood in Altair's blood stream to dilute the effects of the medication, no wonder he was so stoned. Altair sank onto the couch when Malik let him go and he went to get some spare blankets and pillows. Altair wasn't exactly the first person to crash on his couch and he doubted he'd be the last. Altair was practically asleep anyways as Malik shoved the bedding at him and he made something like a nest on the couch. He was asleep in seconds.

Malik looked over at the table where the gun and knife were. He walked over to them and picked up the gun and ejected the clip, five shots had been fired and obviously the knife had been used. He clicked on the safety (fuck it had been off this entire time?!) and put the clip, the gun and the knife in the bloodied robes of Altair's costume and bundled it up before depositing it next to the couch. He looked down at Altair before deciding to put the bottle of Vicodin on the coffee table as well before leaving and going back into his room, locking the door as he did so and got ready for bed. The clock said it was fifteen minutes to three so no wonder he was exhausted. He fell into bed trying to get the image of Altair's peacefully sleeping face off his mind. It was very, very, hard.

YES!!! I am so excited to see this updated! I'm so glad that Altair was thrown back into the mix, and also a little surprised at how much of an asshole Ezio is. I love it.

Man, for people champing at the bit for Altair to come back you're oftly quiet now that he is...
Also, back to my favorite! TEXT MESSAGES!!
—

Malik reached over and slapped his hand down on his alarm to make it sleep feeling exhausted. He blinked around and sat up very sure that everything that had happened after Ezio had left had just been a dream. A terrible and wonderful dream. Then he heard a rather quiet knock on his door that was very insitant. He rolled out of bed, mussing his fingers through his bed head and opened the door groggily. Kadar was home early it seemed. "Uhm... Malik. I don't mean to alarm you but I think someone's sleeping on the couch."

"Okay," Malik nodded slowly, well that coincided with his dream at least.

"And uh... I think its Altair. You know anything about that?"

Malik blinked, practically startled, he hadn't dreampt that up. He didn't know what was scarier either. "Yeah, I know," he said eventually

"Okay... well that's... Good,” Kadar said awkwardly. “Can I ask why he's there?"

"No."

"But Malik what if-

"Kadar," Malik snapped, "I said no. Just leave him alone," he said using his authoritative tone that he'd honed as a Marine. It was the tone he took when something stupid was going on and people were being idiotoc. On tour he used it on little buck privates who didn't know their heads from their asses. Kadar knew the tone and since he'd gone through the same training as Malik he knew what it meant. Even after all his time as a civilian there was only one responded for such a tone.

"Yes, sir," he said and left without another backwards word.

—

Sometime before noon Malik was startled out of his distant staring at his work computer when his phone went off. He normally didn’t get calls or messages while he was working since people knew better than to bother him so he raised his brow at it for a moment before snatching it up. It was from Kadar, which was even odder since Kadar definitely knew not to text him at work. He slid his thumb across the screen and opened the message.

‘Thanks for leaving the Vicodin for me,’ it read.

Malik blinked several times before he typed back, ‘Altair?’ How had he gotten Kadar’s phone? What was he even doing away? It was only eleven and after two Vicodin and a fucking gun shot you’d think he’d be a lot worse for wear, especially at this hour. And since the text led him to believe he’d taken more how was he, who got loopy on just two pills, functioning properly on enough pills to dull the pain?

“Yeah, just me. I asked your brother if I could use his phone,’ Altair texted back, drawing Malik out of his pensive state.

‘Oh.’ So intelectual, he knew.

‘Thanks again… for last night I mean,’ if a text message could be sheepish than this one was.

Malik’s face worked through a few emotions as he typed out a reply, ‘I’ll admit I don’t normally get people showing up at my door with gunshot wounds.’

‘I’d hope not.’

Then finally he can’t not ask anymore because it is gnawing at him. ‘How are you feeling?’ Why did he care? Malik didn’t want to care. God did he not want to care, but he did, his own empathy turning his stomach into a knot of worry at the idea of Altair still hurt (and probably a bit stoned) in his apartment. That was really just what he needed wasn’t it?

‘Changed my bandages earlier, just a little blood. I’m fine, thanks to you.’

Malik grinned slightly, relieved he was fine and tried to convince himself it was because he didn’t want people to die in his apartment. He didn’t believe himself either and had to change the topic and not dwell on it. ‘Good. Where’s Kadar?’

‘His room. I bothered bothered him for his phone. Somehow it’s more confusing to use than yours, and it’s not even a smart phone.’

Smart ass. ‘Eat something,’ he texted back now that he knew his brother was home so that meant Altair wasn’t home by himself. Which really would have been just what he needed. Not really.

‘I didn’t know if I was allowed…’

‘Eat something or I’m coming home during lunch break and making you,’ Malik threatened, hoping his tone carried through the text.

‘You’d feed me? Oh, don’t tempt me Malik,’ and Malik just knew that look on his face. That damn little smirk of his that had more than once invaded his dreams. But it was the message itself along with that knowledge that made Malik flush slightly, damnit. ‘Is there anything I’m not allowed to have?’ came the question when he didn’t reply.

‘Alcohol.’

‘K.’

Malik put his phone down and rubbed his face. Fuck Altair was at his house! Altair was at his house and probably wandering around half naked and- He stopped that thought abruptly. He was not going to think about half naked or any other sort of naked or fuck even about Altair at all. Not thinking about him at all would be great actually. He let out a soft groan and leaned heavily on his arm, face in his hand. Still didn't mean Altair wasn't still at his place, wounded, probably high and shirtless. As if the day couldn't get any better.

His phone vibrated again since he'd turned off the volume during their conversation when Rauf had sent him a dirty look from over his partition still looking a bit hung over from Malik's party the night before. 'Where are my things?'

'Wrapped them up in the costume.'

'Good thinking. I guess I'm a bit to tired still to realize the obvious,' and Malik frowned. 'Can I borrow one of your shirts?' Malik flushed at the question and hated himself for it.

‘Sure,’ it takes him longer than probably necessary to write that reply.

‘It’s really cold in here,’ he can imagine the tone, complaining and Malik fights a grin, he loses and it spreads across his face. He’d forgotten Altair hated the cold.

‘Tell Kadar I said it was okay to turn up the heat,’ he typed.

‘Hurray!! :D’ Malik chuckled to himself. Altair and his fucking emoticons. He honestly didn’t know anyone else who used them; just him. It’s juvenile and a bit endearing. Malik finds himself sighing, wishing it wasn’t. He doesn’t want to want this.

“Malik,” Ugo called from in front of him, “Vidic on the prowl,” he warned and Malik shoved his phone out of the way. He couldn’t focus on his work now though, not that he could before, but it was harder now because his thoughts kept drifting back to what could potentially be happening back at his apartment. He muttered a curse and at least looked busy so when Vidic strolled by like a buzzard he didn't get a talking to.

He scanned the floor when his phone buzzed again, this was a phone call though. He grabbed the phone and stepped out of the floor. "Hello?" the caller ID said Kadar but he didn't know if it was Altair or his brother.

“Mal,” Kadar said on the other end almost sounding distracted.

“Hey, what’s up,” he said going into the break room.

“You said it was okay for him to wear some of your clothes?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. He’d definitely just said shirt, shit what if Altair had borrowed some pants too? He really didn’t want to think about that. Like really didn’t.

“Okay, just checking,” Damnit Kadar, more information! He wasn’t going to ask though, better not to know. “Also he says he wants to go out for lunch but he’s acting kinda weird-

“He’s on Vicodin, do not let him out of the house under any circumstances,” he said sternly, good distraction.

“Okay okay, I won’t… Stop that,” Kadar said to someone off mic though they were silent, he could only imagine Altair was making faces at hit brother.

“Order pizza or something. Just don’t let him wander, I don’t want to have to go looking around Cambridge for a high free runner with a gunshot wound,” no doubt Kadar knew about that since he’d probably seen Altair without his shirt. That wasn’t even half of it though. Not just what he’d said but a high, free runner with an adrenaline addiction and who could potentially kill you bare handed. Yeah, he really didn’t want to go looking for that in Cambridge.

“You and me both,” Kadar agreed with a sigh. “See you when you get home.”

“Yeah,” Malik nodded slowly to himself and hung up. His day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

You have no idea, you just made my day.
See who was 12 chapters to read ...
I love your story, like how it is told.
I love this paring and ...
I always try to leave a comment, but he deleted it
My native language is not English and I'm getting better ... but I think they do not like bugs ...
but still, congratulations on history!
I can add you as a friend?

Sure, don't really care. Don't do much here anyways.

—

Before the week is over Altair is already off the Vicodin and instead eats ibuprofen or Tylenol like it’s going out of style. Malik had to take away the stronger drug because of what it did to him. By then he'd decided he didn't like a high Altair either despite the fact that all he did was sit on the couch, sleep, watch TV and sometimes say he was hungry or cold. Malik didn't like it though because Altair was too still. Sure he'd seen Altair stand statue still before but this was different. It was like he didn't even have the energy to move and from what Malik remembered of him that was totally opposite of his normal mentality of staying still when he needed to but looked like he could jump up at any second and do a backflip or something like that.

The dirty costume had vanished one day while he'd been at work and he'd found ashes in the trash can later that night and he had no idea what had happened to the gun or knife. All he knew was that they weren't on Altair's person and that was good enough for him since he really didn't want some stoned assassin waving either of them around.

That was another thing Malik was coming to terms with. He knew Altair had told him the truth but it was still pretty unbelievable, Altair was an assassin. Just saying it sounded ridiculous. People didn't just go around saying they were assassins! Not only that but the idea was a bit preposterous, assassins were mainly people you read about in stories from before the twentieth century or played as in video games. He'd asked Altair after he'd stopped taking the prescription meds and was lucid and he'd given the same answer. It freaked him out a bit actually.

And of course like Altair had said news came out about the death of a local politician who'd been killed during a fundraiser for a project that wasn't all that's popular anyways. The police had no leads except for a five bullets they'd found on the crime scene that belonged to some unknown gunman. They were handmade bullets too and thus lacked a serial number which they could track. There were no prints, no hairs, no evidence of any kind save that a man in white with a hood had appeared from the crowd and cut the man's throat before anyone knew what had really happened. The news was freaking out about it and going on about how dangerous this man was and everyone should be careful.

Meanwhile Altair was asleep on his couch as he watched this news looking as innocent as a child. It was like he honestly didn’t care about what he had done. At first Malik had thought him heartless but then couldn’t bring himself to. He hadn’t ever felt bad when he’d shot someone, or killed someone. Still, that had been from a distance and— no, he was just trying to make himself into the better man. Really he wasn’t, they were both guilty of murderers and if Malik didn’t feel bad for who he killed then Altair deserved to not feel bad about his either.

On the Friday of the week Malik came home to an empty apartment. He knew Kadar had class but where the hell was Altair? Maybe he’d left since he was feeling better? Only that was a giant lie. The wound was still a bit inflamed and still full of stitches, it wouldn’t be fully healed for a few more weeks. It was so not a good idea for him to leave. Not to mention the police were technically looking for him even though they had no idea who he was. He had to remind himself not to worry and that it wasn’t his business before he started to panic. Altair could take care of himself besides and didn’t need someone like Malik to protect him. That thought might have stopped the panic but definitely not the worrying.

Relief flashed through him when Altair finally came back, opening the door without knocking, an hour or so later. Malik didn’t want to think about how he was able to do that since he didn’t have a key. He was carrying a duffle bag and looked freezing, shivering in a long sleeved shirt Malik had let him borrow for inside purposes. “Don’t you have a coat?” he demanded once he noticed.

“N-no,” Altair’s teeth actually chattered.

“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.

Then his brain caught up with what he was going and he stilled. God what was he doing? He promised he wouldn’t do this to himself anymore. No more, yet… here he was. “No,” he said and pulled away, “I-I can’t do this,” his voice cracked as he spoke and scrambled to his feet.

“Wait,” Altair managed to grab him before he’d gotten to far. “I’m sorry.”

“Altair you just can’t do that,” he said trying to make Altair understand everything that was right and wrong with what had just happened.

“I know. I just… sorry,” he said again. “That wasn’t very fair,” he agreed still holding onto Malik’s hand so he couldn’t leave. Malik didn’t even know if he wanted to even if he knew he should. He didn’t want to want this even if he did. He couldn’t remember a time where recently he’d wanted something this badly. But he refused to be hurt again, especially after that thing with Ezio and he was pretty sure he’d wrecked every single part of that relationship. Because of that he was telling himself no. “Maybe we should start this over,” Altair said a bit awkwardly after pulling a face and shrugging to his feet.

Malik’s lip became a thin line. He shouldn’t he really really shoulder. “If you want,” he sad with half a sigh.

“Hi, I’m Altair Kassab, what’s your name?” he asked and Malik couldn’t help it; he laughed. From anyone else it would have been a terrible, terrible line but somehow totally worked for Altair despite it being corny.

“Malik Al-Sayf,” he said grinning dumbly at Altair despite himself.

“Well Malik, I think you’re very handsome and I would love it if you’d come to dinner with me,” he said charmingly.

Malik couldn’t believe him, but at the same time was hardly surprised. This was exactly the sort of dumb stunt he’d expect Altair to pull actually and he was totally falling for it. He didn’t even care if he was either because this was priceless. “Okay,” he said totally unable to say anything else.

“Great,” and Altair smiled.

Malik was so fucked.

—

Malik was having trouble getting his key into the lock. He wasn’t exactly surprised since he was a bit tipsy, not drunk exactly, not really, just pleasantly buzzed. Altair was leaning against the doorframe next him just looking at him, which was for some reason significantly affecting his ability to use a door properly. “Having trouble Malik?” Altair asked so smoothly he actually slurred.

“Shut up you,” he said shooting a stern look at Altair who just laughed. He moved off the doorframe to try to help him but that was just distracting since it involved Altair being right on top of him, pressing against him. “You’re even worse at this than me,” Malik scolded him.

“Hmmmm,” was the only reply he got and lips pressed against his neck kissing. This wouldn’t end well. An arm went around his waist tugging at him as Altair’s lips and mouth worked across Malik’s neck.

The lock of the door clacked open when Malik finally managed to get the key in and they all but stumbled inside, half laughing at they did so as they tried not to trip over their own feet. Malik closed the door and didn’t even manage to lock it before he was pushed firmly against the door and a pair of lips found their way to his. Malik sighed against them and fisted his hand in Altair’s hair firmly, keeping him close. Altair’s tongue slid against his lips seeking admittance and Malik opened his mouth to allow that hot tongue of his to properly examine the inside of his mouth. He sagged against the door, more leaning against it now than Altair was actually pushing him against it.

His brows went up when he felt Altair’s hands pulling at the button of his pant and finally broke the lip lock. “No,” he said pushing away his hands, “I don’t have sex with drunk people.”

“I’m not drunk,” Altair smirked burying his face in Malik’s neck and tried to do what he’d been doing before.

“I also don’t have sex when I’m drunk,” Malik said keeping a somewhat firm grip on that adventurous hand of Altair.

“You’re not drunk,” Altair said playfully into his ear a grin on his lips.

“Mmm, a little,” Malik countered.

“Damn,” Altair groaned into Malik’s shoulder and Malik just laughed.

“Also, it is too warm in here for these,” Malik said and partially shrugged off his coat. He only got it half way off before his own hand was shoved away and Altair peeled it off him, his hands deliberately slow to find the contours of his body under his clothes. It then took all three hands to get Altair out of his own coat he’d borrowed since he was having a terrible time with the button/zipper combo that held the thing closed. It didn’t help that Altair couldn’t keep those teasing lips of his to himself because they kept finding Malik’s lips or neck or throat or jaw or any other space of skin that made Malik’s hand even more awkward than it was on it’s own when he was tipsy. Finally though it ended up on the floor and Malik shoved his hand up his shirt, fingers brushing carefully over his bandages but being far from gentle when they met skin.

“Are you sure we can’t have sex?” Altair complained and Malik just snickered with a shake of his head. He then proceeded to talk to himself in Arabic sounding more than a little frustrated.

“You’ll live,” Malik reminded him, taking his hand out from under those clothes to grab him by the chin to kiss him again.

Malik was distantly aware of some noise that should have been very familiar but seemed strange to him. He was to wrapped up in the Syrian to give it much thought though. Or he did until someone banged on the door startling them both.

“Malik,” Kadar called through the door. “Why won’t the door open?”

“Your brother has the worst timing,” Altair groaned into Malik’s ear.

“You’re telling me,” he grumbled. Why couldn’t Kadar have been in his room? Or even been somewhere else?

“Mal,” he called again, “Are you sitting at the door again? I can’t come in and hug you if you are-

“Kadar. Shut up,” Malik yelled back hating that little smirk on Altair’s face just then.

“Let me in, it’s cold out here.” Grumbling Malik pushed Altair off him and picked up his coat which was on the floor and opened the door. “Thanks,” Kadar said leaning down and picking up a stack of books. God his brother was such a nerd sometimes Malik was almost embarrassed for him. He gave them both a quick once over, “Are you two drunk or were you hitting the Vicodin?” he asked kicking the door closed.

“I’m not drunk,” Altair informed him.

“Yeah, drunk,” Kadar nodded, “You’re too lucid to be on Vicodin,” and Altair flushed. He eyed the two older men for a second before going into his room but didn’t close the door, as Malik heard him drop the books Altair leaned over onto him, hands on his shoulder and spoke into his ear. What he was saying Malik had no idea since it was in Arabic annoyingly enough but he got the idea and turned red. He shoved Altair when Kadar came back and tried to school his face back into order but found it difficult. “Hey Mal, you should go to bed.”

“Sure,” Malik said though didn’t really want to.

Kadar gave him a look then turned to Altair, “You, go to bed.”

“Make me brat,” he sneered.

“What were you even doing out so late Kadar?” Malik asked trying to think strait.

“Library, I have a paper due soon. Which is partially why I’m saying go to bed,” he folded his arms over his chest, “The other part is because I don’t want you bitching and moaning because you stayed up so late like on Halloween.”

“You sound like dad you know, stop that,” Malik shook a finger at him.

“Bed,” and Kadar grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around, marching him to his room, “You too,” he called to Altair who grumbled but made his way over to the couch before slumping into it. “Really brother,” Kadar sighed, rolling his eyes as he shoved Malik into his room.

“What?” Malik asked.

“Nothing, just noTHING!” he said as Malik fell onto his bed, dragging Kadar with him making his voice jump an entire octave in doing so. “Malik,” he groaned, “I have a paper to finish,” he complained into Malik’s shoulder since the older man was hugging him and not letting him go. After a few moments he sighed and hugged him back, “Let go and go to bed,” he said and Malik did let him go so Kadar could stand. As his brother left Malik kicked off his shoes and didn’t bother to undress before going to bed.

Malik you know you want to drop your pants for Altair, just let him.

I do not believe this Kadar, just now? you it had that to appear now?
Malik you do not settle drunk? this is an excuse!
it only has fear of if to deliver Altair to it and to like and not to obtain more life without it (you already do not live more without it, you are the reality)

I stopped of surtar with young chapters
OMG, you writes very much
I go to continue following until the end this history!
I wait anxious the update >.

—

Altair woke up smelling bacon. He didn’t eat bacon, but damn if it didn’t smell good sometimes, especially when he’d been a bit drunk. Not enough to be hung over, but he definitely wasn’t exactly sober come morning and was still a bit in a haze and just tired. It probably didn’t help that his side still hurt so that when he sat up he swooned a bit. He looked over at the kitchen and saw Kadar in it wearing what was obviously his night clothes and looming over the stove no doubt staring at the pan where the bacon was frying.

He grabbed some clothes from his duffle and dressed under the blankets before rolling off the couch. He felt insanely sore all over from the past few days and sleeping on a couch and everything else that didn’t include the gunshot wound. That wasn’t sore, that just hurt. He grabbed the bottle of Ibuprofen from the coffee table where he’d put it the night before and took five of them before hobbling over to the kitchen bar and sitting.

“Morning,” Kadar said as he flipped the bacon though didn’t look at him.

“Mmm,” Altair agreed still not even awake enough for proper words. “Whr’s Malik?” he asked rubbing his face.

Kadar shot him a look from the stove, “It’s ten in the morning, he’s at work.”

“Oh, riht,” Altair’s head sagged a bit.

“Want some bacon?” Kadar asked after a solid minute of silence with only the sound of bacon to be the go-between. As he asked he fished the strips of pork out of the pan and put them on a paper towel to soak up the grease.

Altair glanced at him from under his fingers, which were still rubbing his face, “I’m Muslim Kadar,” he said in an unamused tone.

“You were drinking last night, Muslims don’t do that either.”

“Technically it depends on your caliph,” Altair grumbled, “I don’t eat pork.”

“More for me then,” he said shoving some bread in the toaster and cracked some eggs into the pan he’d just fried the bacon in. “What did you and Malik do last night?” he asked curiously. Altair didn’t answer and Kadar threw a piece of bread at him, striking him on the temple, “Hey, answer me,” he snapped.

“We went to dinner,” he said and slowly tore the crust off the bread.

Kadar hummed and turned the eggs over making the bacon grease hiss and spit in the pan. “Okay.”

“Do you care?” Altair asked slowly, equally curious why Kadar was asking him. He didn’t really know Kadar, just that he was Malik’s brother and went to Harvard on a nice cushy scholarship.

“Of course I do you prick,” he snapped and threw another piece of bread at him. This time Altair caught it. “I had to deal with Malik when you left and I’ll be damned if I had to go through that a third time,” he actually glared at Altair who looked down under his righteous anger.

“If it makes any difference I didn’t plan it like this,” Altair said and Kadar practically slammed his plateful of breakfast down on the counter opposite him.

“Oh really? What’s your excuse than?” he demanded still glaring.

“I couldn’t get in contact with him,” he said drumming his fingers on the counter feeling like he was meeting someone’s parents and not their younger brother. “And this was the first time since spring I was allowed to leave the country.”

Kadar’s lips made a thin, hard line as he stared at him, obviously thinking and trying to figure him out. Than he sighed and bowed his head, grabbing a piece of bacon and shoving it into his mouth. “I believe that,” he said in a normal tone, no longer sounding angry, gnawing on the bacon around his words. He picked at his eggs before grumbling to himself, “You know I should hate your guts.”

“Why?” that startled him, “I didn’t do anything to you.”

Kadar pointed his fork at him looking annoyed again, “My brother likes you, like really really likes you, and you totally fucked him over,” he informed him. “You have no idea what Malik was like when you left and I had to deal with it and try my damnedest to help him out because he kept waiting for you,” Altair felt terrible listening to Kadar, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t expecting. “I refuse to do that again too, or let him go through that for a third fucking time. So if you’re going to fuck with my brother again know I will. Kick. Your. Ass,” he ended in a growl and Altair didn’t even bother to think Kadar wouldn’t give him a run for his money, he wasn’t some weakling after all. Sure he was a nerd but he was still ex-military and with a brother like Malik he doubted Kadar had forgotten how to fight.

“Trust me, that isn’t the plan,” Altair said and shoved some of the bread into his mouth, having made a mess of the crust, he hated the crust. “And you said third time, what was the first?” he asked carefully. He really hoped it wasn’t Ezio.

Kadar didn’t answer right away, he just shoved another strip of bacon in his mouth along with some toast, chewing in a sort of angry though thoughtful manner. “His name was Sam and that’s all I’m saying. You wanna know about Sammy you get to ask him. Because that’s one thing I’m not comfortable going into.”

“Why?” Altair leaned his folded elbows against the counter.

“Because I don’t like talking about the dead. Bad karma or whatever,” and Kadar made and little dismissive hand motion.

“Okay,” Altair nodded slowly. He wasn’t so keen on actually asking Malik about it. How big of a bad move would that be? Bringing up a dead boyfriend he probably wasn't supposed to know about ranked up there with the stupidest things he’d ever done in his life. Best to let that one lie for a while before he even thought about asking. He ate the rest of the bread as Kadar moped up the yolk of his eggs with his toast and as the younger man was going to start the cleanup Altair found himself asking, “You seem oftly interested in Malik’s love life. Boyfriend situations non withstanding.”

“He’s in my love life, I don’t see why I shouldn’t muck around in his,” he said turning on the water.

“Yeah well my cousin, the smart one, is trying to get in your pants, I think he has plenty of reason for concern.”

Kadar found that amusing, “Yeah, I wouldn’t touch Federico with a nine foot stick.”

Altair blinked at him, “But you were always giving Malik a hard time about him butting into your love life about that-

“I like giving my brother a hard time,” and then he turned and pointed a soapy at hand. “Do not tell Malik I just told you that. I get way too much enjoyment about making him worry I’ll fuck his best friend’s brother.

Altair actually smiled in disbelief, unable to believe that Kadar was actually playing Federico. He’d honestly never heard or such a thing. “Is he still trying to sleep with you?” he asked leaning on the counter.

“Yep,” Kadar nodded. “Not. Interested.”

“Any reason?”

“Not my type. I like girls more for starters.”

“So you’re saying my cousin is ugly?”

Kadar sent him an annoyed half-glare that looked just like a look Malik would give him, Altair grinned. “I’m not into playboy Italians who think they’re gods’ gift to humanity. Federico’s good looking, not as terribly shameless as his brother, still not my thing. Not to mention, have you seen your Aunt? She is so scary!”

Altair laughed at that. “She isn’t,” Altair informed him, “You’re just easily intimidated.”

“Fuck you I’ve been shot at, not to mention blown up, and that was the time that didn’t include an RPG,” Kadar snarked.

Altair snorted, “Okay, okay,” he held up both hands in a peace keeping manner. Kadar finished cleaning up and as he was putting away the dishes Altair decided to go shower, still thinking about what the younger man had said about Malik.

OMG OMG OMG OMG UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE EXCUSE ME WHILE I READ THIS AND FLAIL

asfjasjfklasjfklas Kadar let me love you forever and ever and everrrrrr ♥ I'm v. glad that Altair is getting a sense of what Malik went through (and in a way us too because we didn't really get to see *g*) because ~consequences~ and all that and oh god this is so incoherent I'm sorry it's late ):

BUT JUST. KADAR. I LOVE YOU. ALTAIR GO FACE UP TO WHAT YOU'VE DONE ETC. MALIK JUST CONTINUE BEING AWESOME, and let me love you for writing this because it is like one of the only stories I eagerly follow and look forward to an update from *___*

—

Malik narrowed his eyes as he looked up, not moving his head, at Ugo who was hanging off the partition between their desks. He had this peculiar look on his face. “What?” he growled out still looking at Ugo from under his brows.

“You talked to Ezio lately?” he asked.

Malik’s fingers stopped on his keyboard for a second. He hadn’t spoken to Ezio since Halloween, that had been a little over a week ago. He was sort of expecting it; Ezio licking his wounds and trying to regain his battered pride. After all it didn’t take a genius to know Ezio had an ego, a rather big one, and after the blow Malik had dealt to it he wouldn’t doubt the man was still recovering from it. Also he’d pretty much been a huge ass to Ezio who… well he’d been a huge ass too. They’d both hurt each other but damnit Malik wasn’t going to be the one mending bridges first this time. He only had been a bridge builder for the past twenty-five years he’d known Ezio. Ezio could rebuild his own damn bridges. Besides. Malik was still pissed at him and himself. He didn’t even want to see the ‘Italian stallion’, much less talk to him.

“No,” Malik said gruffly looking back at his screen and wishing Ugo would not bother him, bad enough that Rauf did it regularly. The only reason the bearded man hadn’t commented already was because he’d taken a coffee run. As for Daniel. He was probably high or freaking about finishing late work; thusly not paying attention.

“Hmm. Me neither,” Ugo said thoughtfully. “Rosa neither. It’s really weird. You know anything about it?” he tilted his head at Malik.

“I’m his friend, not his keeper,” Malik growled.

Ugo blinked at him, “I thought you two were dating?”

“Man Ugo where the hell have you been?” damnit Daniel. He glared at the young blonde with too many piercings as he poked his head above the wall. “They broke up,” he grinned at Malik cheekily.

“How the hell does the stoner know that and I don’t?” Ugo demanded, sounding seriously offended.

“You were busy kissing Vidic’s ass when Rauf wrung the answer out of him for why he was moping around like a lovesick dog on Wedns- HEY!” he yelped when Malik threw his stapler at him. It wasn’t a very big stapler but still probably hurt when it clipped his shoulder.

“Daniel. Shut up-

“Are we playing harass the minor again?” the three all turned at Rauf’s voice and he stood just behind Malik with a travel mug full of steaming coffee.

“I’m twenty thanks,” Daniel sneered at Rauf looking about as impressed as a half drowned dog.

“Like I said, minor,” and Rauf lifted his mug just slightly before taking a sip of the bile they called the public coffee, brows up in a self satisfied manner. Daniel rolled his eyes, made a sort of disgusted noise in his throat and vanished back behind the separating wall between himself and Malik.

“Did you know Ezio and Malik broke up?” Ugo asked Rauf in an accusing tone.

“Yeah, what of it?” Rauf took another sip of coffee. Malik did his best to ignore them. It was really hard though with Ugo right above his head and Rauf at his back.

“You didn’t think it a good idea to tell me?”

“I thought Ezio would have told you. Or Rosa. You know that girl knows everything about Ezio’s sex life… or lack of,” Malik could feel them both looking at him and his ears burned in embarrassment.

“Not my fault the idiot is a virgin,” Malik sniped out.

“Ouuu, ouch,” Ugo actually winced. “Tough break Mal. No wonder you two broke up-

“Yes, this is all very fascinating. You two discussing my sex life. Now please shut up and go back to work. At least gossip like teenage girls when I’m not around to almost kill you.”

Rauf laughed, “As amusing as the idea of you trying to kill us is Malik-

“Rauf,” Malik turned around and glared at him so hard that the other man was mildly surprised he didn’t suddenly burst into flames. “Drop. It.”

Rauf raised one hand in surrender and mouthed to Ugo ‘at lunch.’ With a huff Malik turned back to his work with a sour disposition. “So you haven’t talked to Ezio?” Ugo asked.

“No. Now shut up,” Malik growled.

“Fine,” and he missed the look Ugo shot Rauf as the bearded man went to sit at his desk.

Malik was about ready to throw his phone when it buzzed on his desk. He just quickly grabbed it and glared at the screen a few moments before looking at the message he got. It was from Altair. Actually Altair too and not through Kadar’s phone. He’d bought a go phone a few days ago, Malik only knew about it because in the middle of work he’d gotten a text message under the name “Altair” asking where the hell he’d hidden the vicodin because his gunshot wound had hurt. Malik had just told him to suck it up and take some lesser pain meds. He’d gone home to find Altair on the couch, high on ibeprohan; he hadn’t even know you could get high on them. Apparently a three quarter empty bottle proved otherwise. He was still irritated at Altair about that, just a bit, especially since the previous night he’d seemed just fine, after all he couldn’t have hurt that much if he could still pin Malik to a door.

‘Don’t make lunch plans.’

Malik squinted at the phone. His lunch break started in about ten minutes.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m about five minutes away from your building.’

‘What did you do to Kadar?’

‘What makes you think I did anything.’

‘He wouldn’t just volunteer where I work.’

‘He so did. Own free will and everything. I didn’t even have to show him my knife,’ he knew Altair was being sarcastic but that didn’t mean it annoyed Malik any less.

‘What are you planning?’

‘I’m not planning anything. Why do I have to be planning anything? Do I honestly look like the kind of guy that plans things?’ Malik was in the process of a short three letter word response when another message popped up: ‘Don’t answer that.’ And he snorted. Then, ‘I’m taking you out to lunch. Happy? Now you know my plan. I’m such a grand schemer aren’t I?’

‘You’re a fucking ham is what you are?’

‘A what? Gross.’

‘Figure of speech imbecile.’

‘Why would you call someone something as dirty as part of a pig…. Are you calling me a pig Malik?’

Malik had to press a hand over his mouth to not laugh. As it was Rauf just sent him a look from over their wall. ‘No. I’m not. Don’t be so juvenile.’

‘Whatever. I’m standing in front of your building right now.’

“Hey Mal,” Rauf said and Malik looked up. “Lunch?”

“Uh… no thanks,” Malik said.

Rauf rose a brow, “Why not? We always go out to lunch-

“Got plan. Just came up. Sorry,” he said and knew he could ditch for his lunch break a few minutes early so saved all his data, put his machine to sleep, grabbed his stuff and left the floor. Rauf and Ugo both watched him go, brows furrowed curiously but he didn’t give a crap about them.

He got downstairs and out the lobby before most people had and looked around surreptitiously. Then he felt something come up on his left side. He turned to look; no one. When he faced back front Altair was standing there with a cheerful smirk on his smug mug. Malik jumped, a bit startled. “Hello,” Altair said.

Malik grabbed his chest, “Fuck Altair,” he growled, “Do not sneak up on me you ass.”

“I thought I was a pig. First a pig, now an ass. What’s next Malik? Going to go through the entire menagerie for your insults,” he said in a cheeky way, not actually insulted. Malik rolled his eyes. “C’mon,” and without asking grabbed Malik’s hand.

“Where are we going?” Malik asked. “Also, you said you were taking me to lunch. Where the hell you get the money for that, or your phone?”

Altair rolled his eyes at Malik, “You forget who I’m related to, obviously. That’s the only reason you would ask such a dumb question,” Altair stated. Malik was about to say he wasn’t stupid when Altair himself had said that his aunt and uncle didn’t even know he was here. He didn’t get the change to. “That and they don’t just send us places without being able to pay for things. All cash.”

“Great. How dirty is this money?” he asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Squeaky clean,” Altair said and squeezed Malik’s hand. “Come on, I’m an assassin, not a crook,” he almost sounded insulted by that one.

“Okay okay, fine, where are we going than Mr. Squeaky Clean?”

“Surprise,” Altair said and they stopped at a T station.

“Not even a hint?”

“Nope.”

“C’mon, just one?”

“You’ll like it.”

“Well that’s no hint at all,” Malik huffed.

“You ever had traditional food?” he asked.

“What sort of-

The train came up to the stop, the bell dinging and breaks screeching. Altair pulled him onto the train and ran his ticket through the machine twice. They managed to find seats before the lunch rush truly set in.

“Now c’mon, hint,” Malik said sternly.

“Who makes the best Lebanese food?” he asked.

“Huh? What sort of hint is that?” Malik narrowed his eyes, Altair laughed.

“The only one you’re getting.”

“Jerk.”

“Maybe a little,” Altair admitted and leaned around the upright bar that separated their seats and pressed his lips to Malik’s cheek.

“It better not be far.”

“Brighton.”

“Altair,” he groaned. “You’re dragging me all the way to Brighton?”

“Shush,” he scolded. “You only get one chance to do anything. So why not take all those chances to do something great every time?”

“Altair my break is only for an hour.”

“So you go over a bit one day. Live a little,” and he nudged Malik in the ribs with his elbow. Malik just sighed and rolled his eyes upward but didn’t complain further.

*_* NEW CHAPTERS.
Made my freaking day. Thank you.

Life made. 8D

Just so you know; this place is real. I've eaten there, it tastes like... well, my mother's cooking.
—
The sign was a cheerful yellow color and the words Garlic and Lemons is printed in slightly curling letters across it. Harvard Ave is busy, full of college students (but what street in Boston isn't during the lunch hours?) and business men and women. Altair tugs him inside and the first thing Malik recognizes is the smell. It smells like his mother's kitchen. There are four large slabs of meat on carousels, slowly turning in front of a low burning gas heater. It smells like garlic, lemons, more spices than Malik can name and meat. The walls are the same almost obtrusive yellow color as the sign. It wasn't particularly busy though Malik wondered how long that would last.

"How the hell did you know this was here?" Malik asked as Altair dragged him over to where you ordered, almost cafeteria style.

"I have my ways," and Altair winked at him. There was a cute girl behind the glass separator. Altair spoke to her in a tongue Malik didn't know. Apparently the girl did though for she nodded and went back into the open kitchen. A man who had a great appreciation for food appeared in a chef's apron, a bit of a grease stain on the front. Altair threw up his arms and said something in an enthused voice. The chef apparently recognized him and replied in the same tone. Malik just watched with mild confusion as they talked, both grinning. Malik knew English, enough Arabic to hold a slow conversation and barely enough Spanish to know how to roll his Rs. What these two were going on in though wasn't any language Malik knew.

After sharing a bit more pleasantry the man pulled out two plates and began piling food onto then. Malik watched as meat, vegetables, falafel, rice and pita bread was stacked onto the various plates which multiplied before his eyes. Altair took half the plates, still chatting to the man in whatever language they were going on in, and motioned for Malik to take the others. He did so and Altair sat them down at one of the small tables.

"What the hell was that?" Malik hissed once Altair sat down after grabbing them both silverware and a Coke.

"What?"

"You know that guy?"

Altair smiled, "We're friends you could say, yes," Altair said his smile telling Malik he hadn't told the entire thing.

Malik opened his mouth to ask before he shut it. Malik really did /not/ want to know actually. Altair wasn't just a guy after all. He was an assassin with a very powerful uncle on top of that. Who knew who Altair knew or why. He went for a more appropriate question as Altair dug into one of the kebabs which dripped all sorts of delicious and bad for you fat, "What language was that?"

"Armenian," Altair said after swallowing.

"You speak Armenian?"

"I speak languages I need to know," Altair shrugged.

"But this is Lebanese food," Malik said looking down at his plate. Well really it could have come from anywhere in the Middle East but it said Lebanese on the sign.

"Remember my hint? Who makes the best Lebanese food? Answer; the Armenians," and he smirked. "That and its free. Don't look it in the mouth," and Altair pointer his fork at Malik's still untouched plate. Altair had a point. He mint not be a college kid but even he appreciated free food. Malik decided he might as well eat before it got cold. He sighed when he finally took a bite. It reminded him of his mother's cooking. Comfort food if there ever was any. Some people liked meatloaf and mashed potatoes for comfort food. Malik preferred falafel and pilaf. It reminded him of his mother and a time before he'd gone off to the Marines.

He felt Altair watching him though he never actually caught the other man looking even though Altair's cutlery never stopped moving, clacking against the porcelain. Malik did his best to ignore him though if he was trying to be sly about it.

As they were finishing their lunch though he grew a bit antsy. "What is it?" he asked his fork poised with a quarter of falafel on it, the green disc slathered on a white sauce.

Altair gave a short huff of half a laugh, "What makes you think there's anything wrong?" he asked as Malik shoved the falafel into his mouth.

"I didn't say wrong," Malik said after quickly chewing and swallowing. "I just asked what is it? You've been staring at me."

"Well, for starters," Altair said and reached across the distance, "you have some sauce on your face, very attractive," and he wiped the falafel sauce off with his thumb. Malik watched the path of his thumb as it pulled away from the corner of his mouth and traveled to between Altair's own lips. Malik just gave him a look, "But," he continued his lips smacking slightly as he pulled he thumb from his mouth and wiped it across his napkin, "I need a reason to look at you now?"

"Look, no. Stare, yes."

"And whose to say I'm not just struck by how good you look?" Altair smirked and that's when Malik felt heat rise into his cheeks.

He rolled his eyes regardless of what the rest of his face was doing however. "Oh please," he huffed putting his fork down.

Altair's smirk fell away reveal something resembling a frown. For a second Malik wanted to take back his words. He wasn't very used to being noticed for reasons other than the fact that he only had one arm, it was what people who didn't know him tended to focus on since it was so obvious. Thus he didn't take comments, even good ones, about his looks with anything less than skepticism since usually people spoke well of him out of pity. Of course he knew Altair knew better than to even attempt to pity him. "Okay, you're right. There is something," Altair said, still frowning. He reached out and covered Malik's hand with his own, Malik in turn twisted his hand so that their fingers laced together and Altair's amber eyes brightened a bit. "I'm sorry."

Malik blinked, "For what?" he asked, brow furrowing.

"For taking so long," he said.

Malik snorted, well that was irony. He'd waited over a decade for a man he'd thought he'd wanted only for it not to work out. Seven months to wait for someone he didn't know he wanted seemed like time had barely passed. "I don't forgive you," Malik said and he saw something in Altair sort of... rip, was the only was to describe it. In the breath between his words Altair's fingers tightened around his own, "For there is nothing to forgive," and now it was Altair's turn to look puzzled. "You didn't do anything wrong. Sure I was annoyed you didn't call, but... I understand that you didn't."

Altair bowed his head and gave a short, dry chuckle before looking back up at Malik, eyes bright and warm. He brought the other man's knuckles up to his mouth and kissed them, "I am fairly sure I don't deserve you in any capacity," he said.

"Damn right you don't," Malik teased and Altair laughed, squeezing his hand again before letting him have it back. Malik just allowed himself a pleased smile as he picked up his spoon to scoop up the last of his pilaf.

—

They made it back to Malik's work almost half an hour after he was supposed to be back. Malik couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed as they walked from the T station, Altair having twisted his fingers firmly into Malik's when they'd been on the train, only seeming fit to let go when they debarked.

"You are going home now," Malik told Altair sort of sternly, he wasn't going to let Altair's anywhere near his work.

"I shall await you with baited breath," he said, gently bumping their shoulders together as they stood several feet to the side of the building entrance.

"Shut up," Malik said rolling his eyes, but he had a grin on his face.

Altair just smiled brightly at him, "Have a good rest of the day at your boring desk job," he teased and bumped into Malik again, this time so that their lips brushed.

"Well not everyone can have an exciting job like you Mr. Assassin," Malik teased softly and Altair seemed to appreciate the humor. "Don't kill anyone on the way home," he added.

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