asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-01-04 10:19 am
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-01-04 10:19 am
Entry tags:
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
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (67/?)
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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (68/?)
“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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (68/?)
“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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (70?)
“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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (70?)
(Anonymous) 2011-08-19 12:23 am (UTC)(link)Re: Altered Flight Pattern (70?)
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 >.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (71?)
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.”
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (72?)
“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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (72?)
(Anonymous) 2011-09-17 03:58 am (UTC)(link)Re: Altered Flight Pattern (72?)
(Anonymous) 2011-09-17 04:14 am (UTC)(link)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 *___*
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (73?)
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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (74?)
‘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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (75?)
“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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (75?)
(Anonymous) 2011-09-27 07:10 am (UTC)(link)Made my freaking day. Thank you.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (75?)
(Anonymous) 2011-09-28 05:15 am (UTC)(link)Re: Altered Flight Pattern (76?)
—
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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (77?)
"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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (77?)
He slumped into his chair with a sigh. Almost immediately Rauf poked his head over their divider. "Where the hell were you?"
"Lunch," Malik said in a grouchy, gruff tone. He really wanted Rauf to fuck off.
"With who?"
"A, what makes you think I was with anyone and B, if I was, what makes you think it's any of your business?" he growled. He didn't know why but he didn't want the others to know about Altair. At least not yet. He'd only broken up with Ezio a week ago, he didn't want to give them any wrong impressions that he was.... well at the very least kissing and going out to lunch with another guy. He wouldn't call them dating really since... he didn't know. He just didn't want them to know and he was damn well within his rights to do so.
"You're usually not late unless you're on a lunch with someone. Last time you were you and Daniel somehow were late by fifteen minutes on a damn sandwich run," Rauf said furrowing his brows.
"Oh shut up Rauf," Daniel growled from his cubical. "I didn't mean to make us late."
"And you still got my order wrong," Rauf added.
Daniel just made a wordless groan of annoyance, his words 'oh shut up' obvious. "What Daniel said, shut up Rauf," Malik said smartly. "None of your business."
"Uhg, you're killing me here Malik," Rauf groaned but did retreat back into his own little box. Malik turned back to his computer, ignoring any further comments from any of them.
--
We're so close to the end I can taste it! Just two or three more short scenes and yaaaaa!!
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (77?)
(Anonymous) 2011-10-09 06:12 am (UTC)(link)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.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (79?)
He watched the delivery driver get back into his car and drive away. A minute later the roof door opened again. Malik turned around where he sat and saw Altair walking towards him with a few small boxes balanced on top of a large pizza box. He sat down next to Malik without dropping anything.
“You bought pizza,” Malik said staring at the food, his stomach liking the way it smelled very much.
“You’re very clever you know that,” Altair said setting the box on his lap. Malik refrained from shoving because Altair was holding the food and sitting on a ledge. Malik turned to face him, throwing one leg over the other side of the ledge so he straddled it. “I also got some other stuff,” and he handed Malik a styrofoam container. Malik opened it and just about drooled. mozzarella sticks. He stole one and found it was still crispy, it was so hard to get crispy mottz sticks on a delivery, they always were soggy it seemed. But not these. No these were crispy and fresh. The other two containers contained jalapeno poppers and french fries, both as crispy and hot as the mottz sticks. Malik’s stomach growled loudly. Altair laughed at him. “Want a slice?” and Altair opened the big pizza box.
“Who did you ask?” was all Malik said as he picked out a slice of vegetarian with (of all things) shrimp and garlic on it. One half was his favorite (that) and the other was just cheese with mushrooms and jalapenos on it.
“Kadar,” Altair said smugly. Malik hummed and bit into the pizza. It burned a bit but he didn’t care, he was starving. Altair helped himself to some french fries before attacking his own half of the pizza.
“Well for once I approve of him telling people my weird taste in food,” Malik said and Altair snorted. Malik let the pizza slice cool in the cold air for a moment or two before taking another bite. This time it was just cool enough and he groaned when he tore into the slice. He heard Altair cough and smack his chest, but was too focused on his food to pay much attention. “This is fucking delicious,” he added.
“Good,” Altair said approvingly, “Apparently it’s the best pizza in the neighborhood,” he’d already polished off his first slice and was moving in on the poppers. Malik quickly grabbed several and put them in his lap since he didn’t have any illusions that if he didn’t watch them they’d be gone before he got any. He’d learned Altair liked spicy foods since he’d started living on his couch, and after Malik introduced him to sriracha Altair put it on everything. So Altair ate the poppers like they were candy while Malik finished his slice.
They ate in silence, both pushing as much food into their mouths as quickly as possible. One because they were both hungry, and two to eat before it got cold. Once they’d emptied the smaller boxes of all the food and the pizza box of most of it’s contents and had pulled their coats back on, now able to feel the chill, they returned to just relaxing on the roof.
“What are you- oh,” Malik started as Altair moved away from him on the roof only to face away from him and lay his head right on Malik’s lap. Altair grinned up at him from where he was. Malik didn’t say anything, instead he reached out to brush his fingers through Altair’s dark brown hair. Altair closed his eyes, a content look on his face. Malik asked something he didn’t want to ask but needed to because he refused to be caught by surprise again, “When are you leaving again?”
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (79?)
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (80/?)
“On?”
“You.”
“About?”
“Do you want me to stay?”
Malik was silent for several seconds, “Yes,” he finally breathed. He sometimes hated that Altair could affect him so much, that he could become such a mess when the man was around. But on the other hand he had missed the thrill of it, the sense of adventure he’d only just been allowed a single swallow of during the spring. It had lit a fire back in him he’d forgotten he’d had, reminded him who he was. He didn’t want to go back to being that guy he’d been last year. He wanted to stay like how he was now, not fall back into that.
“Then I don’t plan on going anywhere,” he said firmly.
“Huh?” Malik was honestly surprised by that.
“I talked with my uncle before I left home for this assignment. He said if I wanted he’d talk to my father, convince him to transfer me to America permanently,” he said.
Malik tried not to think too hard about what he’d just said, transfer and what that had to mean, that whatever Altair was a part of was bigger than he probably wanted to understand. “He could do that?”
“My uncle and father get along very well,” Altair said, “same coin, opposite sides,” the wording for the analogy was off but Malik understood. “He will say he needs someone skilled over here to keep things secure, someone like me, and since I am already here he won’t have to send someone else. My father will argue, say I should be there with him and then Giovanni will say it would be good if I learned how his side of the business was run too. My father will consent to a point,” he smirked a little. “And even if they can’t, well,” he chuckled here, “Aunt Maria and her sister will make him see reason.” In that moment Malik felt pity for Altair’s father, who he’d only met once. But it was enough. He’d married Maria’s sister who was every bit of the fiery Italian her older sister was. If they started to work on someone he doubted they’d last very long. Maria he knew had a way with words and he could only imagine her sister was the same way.
Malik chuckled and ruffled his hair, “I can’t imagine anyone denying Maria or her sister anything,” he said.
“Nope,” Altair grinned smugly. “So I won’t leave again… well,” he made a bit of a face, “Other than work related times and-
They both looked at Malik’s pocket when his phone started to ring. Malik cursed and Altair frowned as he fished it from his pocket. “Hello?” he asked not even glancing at who it was from.
“I’m going to take that phone apart one day since it always goes off at the worst time,” Altair said and Malik shushed him with an irritant look on his face.
“Is this Malik?”
Malik blinked, “Ezio?” he asked, “Of course this is Malik,” he frowned.
“Thank goodness. You wouldn’t beleive how hard it is to get in touch with you when you don’t have anyone else’s-
“Hey!” Malik yelped when Altair sat up and snatched the phone from him. “Altair what are you doing-” he shut up at the look Altair gave him, unable to continue at the dark glance.
“Ezio,” Altair said lowly and turned away, then he said something in Italian and Malik really couldn’t follow. He sighed then Altair hung up the phone.
“Going to tell me what that was about?” Malik asked, hand out for his phone.
“No,” he said and handed it back, “He just knows better.”
Malik rolled his eyes, “I haven’t talked to him in almost two weeks,” he said.
“Good, maybe he’s not such an idiot anymore,” Altair grumbled.
Malik stared at him a moment, “What did you do?” he knew Altair had done something.
Altair gave him a slightly wary look, “I don’t think you want to know,” he was told.
“Altair-
“Really Malik, I didn’t do anything as bad as Ezio did,” he interuppted. “And I don’t want to tell you because you don’t deserve to know that my cousin is a bigger dick than you think,” he said lowly.
“You have something to do with why no one has talked to Ezio in a few weeks?”
“I… maybe sort of deleted all the contacts from his phone,” Altair said innocently. Malik pressed his hand to his face with a sigh.
--
am I don't yet? Uuuuuhg. I'm ready to put this story to bed, just so I can say it's over.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (81/?)
“He’ll get them back, obviously,” and Altair was sitting right in front of him again.
“I know but did you have to do that? He practically lives on his phone.”
“I thought it was adequate punishment,” Altair said firmly. “Besides, it got me two weeks of you all to myself,” and he leaned forward, kissing him, and Malik didn’t stop him. He forgot what it was really like to be kissed like this, fully and without the hesitation Ezio had, or the brief moments they’d kissed while Altair had lived on his couch. He parted his lips when Altair pressed his tongue forward and groaned a little as he licked his way inside his mouth. They just stayed there for a good while, and Malik didn’t worry about what Altair had or hadn’t done to Ezio because he couldn’t think about it with Altair’s mouth against him and the taste of greasy pizzeria food on his tongue.
Altair kissed his lower lip when they came up for air and Malik felt warmer than he had been before. He could probably do this all night, and he didn’t have work in the morning… but the T would stop running soon. He tipped his head down to avoid Altair’s persistent lips to say, “We should probably be getting home,” he said.
“Mhmm,” was all Altair said and Malik wondered when Altair’s arm had found it’s way around his waist, he honestly could say he couldn’t remember.
“Really,” Malik implored, “The T is going to stop running, and I don’t feel like walking—” he was cut off briefly when Altair kissed him again, “walking all the way back to Cambridge,” he blurted out the rest once he was free of Altair’s mouth.
Altair pulled away, “Okay,” he sighed and Malik would be the first to admit he hadn’t wanted to stop, not really. Still it was cold out and the weathermen had been threatening the entire river basin with snow since Wednesday. They got off the ledge and Altair picked up the half empty pizza box and they walked down from the roof. Altair left the box with the garbage on the curb and Malik pulled him towards Haymarket station.
When they got there Altair just jumped right over the automatic barriers even while Malik snapped at him about it and paid his own fare. Altair just grinned back at him and waited till he’d gotten to the proper side of the barriers. He snatched up Malik’s hand as they walked to the platform and waited for the train. A train ride and an experience through Park station (that station was always a bit of a mess to navigate, even for natives) they were on their way to Cambridge. Their train was practically empty except for some college kids bundled up against the cold and they got off at the Harvard stop. Altair had his head against Malik’s shoulder as they rode, both their hands in his lap, so tangled up it was difficult to distinguish one set of fingers from the other’s.
They got off at the Porter stop and walked the few blocks from the T station to Malik’s apartment on Cedar during which Malik asked Altair how he knew where they’d be for the pizza guy to deliver since he never saw Altair actually take out his phone. Altair just claimed it was his secret assassin mojo and that made Malik laugh.
There was a familiar car in front of Malik’s building as they neared it. Malik frowned at it in confusion and Altair’s grip on his hand tightened to almost painful. That was Ezio’s car. What was Ezio doing here this late at night? Maybe not totally unfamiliar, as Ezio often showed up at all hours of the waking day, but he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man since their break up.
The outer door opened and the familiar sight of Ezio in his thick wool coat that hung down by his knees was framed in the doorway. “Malik!” he cried and jumped down from the stoop, Malik did his best not to wince, remembering how Kadar had broken his arm doing that when there was snow on the ground.
“Hey,” Malik said as Ezio came up to them and he caught the tight tension between the cousins instantly as they both seemed to refuse to ackoweledge each other’s existence. He was surprised by this, but also by Ezio’s attitude, he expected the Italian to be more stand-offish or grouchy about what had happened.
Re: Altered Flight Pattern (82/?)
“Sure,” Malik said easily.
Finally Ezio seemed to at least show he knew Altair was there, his eyes flicking to him for an instant, “Alone?”
“Yeah, of course,” and he pulled his hand out of Altair’s, “I’ll see you upstairs,” he told Altair, who just nodded mutely. He was caught off guard when Altair kissed him suddenly, a swift thing that made his heart jump into his throat. Then it was gone, as quickly as it came, and Altair was walking up the stairs to the door. When he focused back on Ezio he saw the man glaring after his cousin. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“You could say,” Ezio said, turning away and looking at Malik. He looked… hurt. Malik refused to feel bad though, just refused, since he’d been hurt plenty in his friendship with Ezio as well as dating him where he thought even his fantasies were betraying him. “Look Malik, I’m sorry,” he said, “What happened on Halloween-
Malik waved him away, “I wrote it off,” he said, frankly with Altair showing up that same night he’d sort of forgotten about their fight and the party. That night belonged to Altair and his stupid fucking gunshot wound.
“Oh,” Ezio frowned. There was a strange silence that Malik recognized as Ezio working up to whatever he really was here to say, and Malik was content to just wait him out. “So then you aren’t mad at me?”
“No,” Malik said and put his hand in his pocket, he was cold out here now that he wasn’t moving around. “Are you?”
“…No,” Ezio admitted, “But just… you rebounded pretty quick,” he said sadly. Malik was about to explain himself, he didn’t even know how he was going to do that, when Ezio spoke up again, “I wanted to know though, if you knew.”
“Knew?” Malik rose a brow at him.
“About what Altair does.”
“I do,” Malik said calmly.
Ezio seemed shocked by that, “He told you?” Malik nodded. “He told you, and you’re still with him?” now he seemed… maybe not disgusted, but grossly surprised.
“It’s no worse than what I’ve done,” Malik said.
“Malik, I don’t think you understand. Altair enjoys it,” Ezio said in practically a hiss and that actually stopped whatever Malik would have said there. “I bet he didn’t tell you that. I told you, way back in spring, my family is crazy. I meant it,” he said seriously. “Malik?” he asked when Malik didn’t answer or move for a long time, just stared at him.
Malik had just stopped at that comment. That Altair might actually enjoy his work, and from the way Ezio had said it, enjoyed it like enjoyed killing people. Malik wasn’t going to hold a lofty, peaceful, desire over Altair’s head since he couldn’t throw stones. He was ex-military, he’d shot people, he’d killed people, and animals. Hell he’d destroyed buildings and had seen entire villages go up in fire because an incompetent officer had called in a pair of zoomies to bomb it to kingdom come. He couldn’t and wouldn’t fault Altair for doing his job, because that’s what it was, a job, and if he was good at it so what? Malik had been good at his job too. But he idea that Altair could enjoy his blood work hadn’t even occurred to him.
He flinched when Ezio touched him and jerked away as though burned. “Malik?” Ezio asked again.
He didn’t want to believe what Ezio said, in fact, he had no reason to in the first place seeing as how Ezio was suddenly just throwing this in his face. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
Ezio had a sort of dark look on his face then, “Maybe you should ask him,” he suggested.
“I will, right now,” and he shoved right past Ezio. He wasn’t surprised to see Altair was sitting at the top of the first set of stairs. He honestly hadn’t expected him to leave with the weird air that had been between the two earlier.
“Everything all right?” Altair asked and pulled his hood down as Malik walked up a few steps so he was eye level with Altair sitting at the top.
“I don’t care if you kill people,” Malik told him, “Just please don’t tell me you like it.”
Altair blinked slowly at him, surprised, and maybe confused by what he’d said. “I do what I have to and that’s it,” he said and now that there was that little worm of doubt Malik wondered if he was telling the truth.
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