Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 4

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.4

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List of Kinks
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(Livejorunal) Archive
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#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion

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In Which Malik is Oblivious- the Second Instance

[(Anonymous)]

“The people in Damascus enjoy it. I thought that maybe you would like to serve it to guests.”

Malik considered the proposal. Aside from his duties as rafiq, Malik had to maintain a cover life. For this purpose, he eventually drew upon his own talents for keeping records, and occasionally worked as a scribe in order to keep up appearances, especially since he could speak not only Arabic, but the languages of the Hebrews and Christians that came and went through the streets. It also served the Assassins, because few expected treachery from the lame. This meant he often entertained guests when not tending to the needs of the Bureau, and though he seldom admitted it, he enjoyed playing the role of hospitable host.

He picked up the flaky bread, filled with fruit and nuts, and slathered with some sort of syrup. He took a moment to sniff it before looking at Altair. “And the people of Damascus, they call it baklava?” Altair nodded twice and watched Malik with mild interest, an action that slightly took Malik by surprise. It was rare for the man to be interested much in anything. He reminded himself that Altair made it. Perhaps he was seeking some sort of praise.

He took a bite from the treat and paused as he felt the taste melt over his mouth. Altair was right—this snack was definitely delicious, and he’d make it a point to learn the recipe for when he next entertained guests. He continued eating the treat, savoring every moment of it when something began to overtake him. It was an itching sensation that crept across his body as he digested the food, and it wasn’t long before Malik found himself scratching at himself in a futile attempt to quell the sensation. As time went by, and Altair leaned forward to see what was the matter, his eyes began to water and realization dawned on the rafiq. “Malik, what is wrong?”

“Altair!” His voice came out in a throaty growl as he continued to try and scratch himself. “Are there dates in this food?”

“Yes!” he responded with a hint of emotion unfamiliar in Altair’s normally subdued voice. “The syrup is made fr—“

“YOU IDIOT! Are you TRYING to kill me?” Malik burst from the place they were sitting in the courtyard and ran to the fountain, trying to wash the remains from his mouth before retching over the sewer grating. “I cannot eat dates!”

After several long minutes spent over the grate, Malik had managed to release his belly from the poisoned treat. Sweating and flushed, he turned over to his side, ready to verbally assault Altair.

Once again, he was gone.