Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 4

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.4

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Wrong Life, Wrong Body 3

[(Anonymous)]

When he got out the next time, he found himself catching something before his mind caught up with itself. He blinked, staring at the fuzzy thing, before his eyes grew wide.

“A Koosh ball!”

He grinned, squishing it between his hands.

“It’s been forever since I saw one of these! Awesome! Where’d you get it?”

He was holding it up by a few of the hairs, wiggling it. Then, he tossed it in the air, playing with it almost like a Hacky-Sack, kicking it around and throwing it. He had always wanted one of those, and now he finally had one. He alternated between tossing it around and squishing it, laughing at the way it felt between his fingers, and he stopped only to eat dinner.

“You’ll never guess where I found it, Desmond,” Shaun said as Lucy brought over the pot of ravioli.

Desmond looked at him. He was so happy.

“In the bird section of the marketplace in the next town over.”

He was lobbing the Koosh ball at Shaun’s face before he knew what he was doing, and he sulked over to his nest—bed!—without eating dinner. He jerked when he heard a whistle, and his gaze honed in on the Koosh ball swinging back and forth in the damnable man’s fingers. He had finally gotten a new toy, and all he was doing was getting ridiculed for it. He hissed and, in a flash, was barreling over the table and plowing into Shaun, knocking him senseless as he grabbed the Koosh ball and felt himself smile softly as he squished the small ball between his hands. This was his toy, and it was going in his bed. He got off Shaun, one foot clamped over the ball as he scavenged what was left of the other man’s food before getting his own. And when the man finally recovered, he sat up slowly, his face contorted into one of mild pain.

“You asked for it,” Rebecca murmured.

Desmond snorted. “Of course he did.”

Shaun blinked for a minute before smirking. “But I told you he’d love it.”

“Lots of people enjoy Koosh balls,” Lucy uttered, sighing, irritated.

He hummed, eating a large portion of the ravioli, before picking the ball up and rolling it between his hands.

“Desmond, you’re filthy. You need to bathe,” he heard Shaun hiss, feeling his eyes raking over him.

“Do I have time? Or are we fitting in one more session before bed?”

“We’ll… wait on having that,” Lucy said softly, watching him. “You go take a shower tonight.”

He nodded, rolling the Koosh between his hands still. “You got it. I’ll take one now.”

He played with the Koosh ball all the way through his shower, humming as he take his time, washing his head gently and listening to Malik argue outside the shower curtains with some novice his mind has come up with out of nowhere. The man sent him on his way as he showered, and he yelped when he saw Malik’s head peeking into the shower. The man snorted, and he blushed when he saw him give him an extremely thorough onceover.

“Desmond, don’t be a perv,” he muttered, looking away.

“You look exactly like Altair,” Malik murmured, and Desmond scowled, still not looking despite the tone of Malik’s voice. He was not going to give into the fact that he was creating the people in his head to check him out and—“Novice. We’re no longer just people in your head. We’re entities, like that multiple personality disorder you researched once.”

That made him cringe. That was not what he wanted to here. Not ever.

“Besides, you have a good body. You should show it off more as Altair did when we were alone. You are in an intimate enough setting.”

He scowled. “No! Not in front of the others!”

“And why not?”

“Can you imagine the shit I’d get from Shaun?”

“Why does he matter?”

“Why do you care? It’s not like you’re interested in men.”

“I simply ask because I know you are.”

He scowled even deeper. “Creeper. I’m not interested only in men.”

“I know that. Doesn’t mean I care, however, and I have noticed the way you stare at the others.”

“Shut the fuck up, Malik. I’m bisexual, okay? I care about what Shaun’s gonna say. Bad enough he’s already done nothing but tease me about birdbrain out there.”

He could hear Altair squawk indignantly from the counter outside the shower as Malik smirked, pulling back. Desmond snorted, finishing his shower quickly after that unpleasant interruption. He dried in the shower and changed quickly, cursing his ancestors for staring at him as he dressed. He didn’t like long-dead old guys staring at him, and he most certainly didn’t like to think he was being judged by his ancestors, so he scowled as he shoved the Koosh ball in his pocket and ran off after that, determined to leave the others behind, even more disappointed to see that they were keeping up with him even with the unfamiliar territory. When he made it back to the Sanctuary, he walked straight over to his nest and curled up, harrumphing.

“Well, looks like feather-brain is finally back—and got into a spat with the voices inside his head.”

“Shut up, Shaun.”

“Ah, and why should I? The girls have gone to bed, and there’s no one awake to hear me torment you.”

So that’s why it seemed darker than normal. They had shut down. He growled and curled up under his blankets and pillows, clinging to his Koosh ball. Shaun was remarkably silent for a while, and when he heard Shaun shut down, Desmond looked to see him walking over and sitting in his nest. It was remarkably big.

“So much bigger than any of Altair’s,” Malik murmured, but Desmond didn’t hear because Shaun was scratching his scalp.

He closed his eyes, choosing to ignore Shaun’s chuckling as he enjoyed the head scratching. He kept his Koosh ball in his hand, tucked neatly under his stomach, and Desmond could hear himself making tiny noises, especially when Shaun scratched the beard under his chin. A beard was an itchy thing, but a comfortable one at the same time, and he thought it felt wonderful as he rolled onto his back and held the Koosh ball close.

“You are so bizarre,” he heard Shaun murmur.

“You’re encouraging it,” he said as best he could without disrupting Shaun’s wonderful fingers scratching the back part of his jaw and cheek.

Shaun hummed, and Desmond slowly relaxed under his wonderful fingers. Eventually, he felt the man start stroking his neck, and he exhaled softly.

“You are so noisy.”

“I’m not that noisy.”

“Yes, you are.”

He made some sort of warbling huff, and Shaun laughed again as he felt those fingers slipping slightly lower. He melted when he undid the sweater and scratched his chest slowly and lightly through his thin tee. Desmond exhaled, a contented sigh, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the last time Shaun clipped his nails. He squirmed slightly, getting comfortable, and then fell still as he let the man alternate between scratching his chest and rubbing his neck and chin. He drifted off to sleep slowly.

When Desmond woke up the next morning, Shaun was hugging him like a giant teddy bear. He twisted his head when he heard someone pacing around, and Lucy was already up and about, turning things on and starting for the day. He watched her until she noticed him, smiling, amused, at the grip Shaun seemed to have on him.

“Morning, Lucy,” he murmured.

“Morn—”

“Shush,” Shaun hissed, curling up tighter. “The Dinkey-Bird is singing…”

“Huh?” she said, looking at Shaun.

“The Dinkey-Bird!” he hissed, his fingers curling into Desmond’s chest.

“Shaun, is the Dinkey-Bird related to the polly-smogluped momma thing?” Desmond asked.

Shaun sighed happily, relaxing against his chest. “Ah, speed little dreams, your winging, to the cliffs beside the sea…”

“Shaun?” Lucy murmured, pacing over.

“Lucy,” Shaun said, curling his fingers again into Desmond’s chest, “look at your bed.”

She did so.

“Now look at my bed.”

He watched Lucy blink before looking at him and crossing her arms.

“Now look at your bed. Who’s jealous now, bitch?”

He laughed quietly at the shocked expression on Lucy’s face.

“D-did he just quote the Old Spice commercials?” she asked.

“I didn’t even think Shaun knew about Old Spice,” he responded.

“What time did he go to bed?”

“Shortly after I got back.”

Lucy nodded, and Shaun snored softly once, muttering about the eternal shadow slaying vultures from the mad sphere.

“I heard you get back.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Oh… looks like he’s getting frustrated.”

He looked back at Shaun, who had the cutest face of absolute frustration. He wrapped an arm around him and hummed quietly for a moment before speaking when he seemed to relax.

“I’m getting a feeling this is how it always will be in the mornings from now on. He seems to like this bed more.”

“I think we all would,” Lucy said with a chuckle.

“You’re welcome to anything here. Just let me know what you take.”

Lucy smiled. “Thank you, Desmond. I suppose I should leave you alone with him.”

“Probably a good idea,” he murmured, starting to sing quietly, and when Shaun actually woke up, Desmond couldn’t help but grin ear-to-ear. “So, Shaun—”

“Shut up, Desmond. I don’t want to hear about my escapades in dreamland.”

Yet, when the girls went out shopping and bottle of Old Spice soap appeared, Desmond couldn’t help but laugh uproarishly. And the days began to settle into a pattern.

In the morning, he’d cuddle with Shaun. He heard about radioactive narwhals fighting doped-up unicorns. He heard about glowing green cats chasing purple tap-dancing mice. He heard about pink-spotted kangaroos dancing the salsa with slimy, striped lobsters. He realized, as he listened to his companion every morning, that he was beginning to grow fond of him, and that he wouldn’t want to go anywhere without him. Of course, the affectionate nickname “eaglet 17-M” also endeared him in a strange sort of way when coupled with the possessive “my birdie”s, reoccurring with every dream every time he would open his mouth to speak.

Then Shaun woke up, and Desmond popped into the Animus, then he got out, and they’d have dinner. Sometimes he played with the Koosh ball, sometimes he went out for a run, but either way, it was the only stimulating thing he could do—until the historian decided to take it upon himself to entertain him. Of course, the first time he brought the rope down, Desmond had been offended, snorting and ignoring it until the others were asleep before he tucked it into his bed next to the Koosh ball. Shaun had also gotten his hands on some sort of ball puzzle and put a small container of honey and berries in there. Desmond had spent three hours trying to figure out how to get to it—ending just shy of destroying it. And when the man had gotten his hands on some dried salmon (which Desmond loved) and stuffed it into a different puzzle, he thought he was just about ready to die from having to figure out how to get it. He wanted the fish more than the sweet treats. Of course, Shaun insisted that it was all to keep him from getting bored, but it didn’t take much to keep him occupied. Still, he was grateful to him for keeping him entertained: since, apparently, he couldn’t entertain himself.

It was an uneventful day, in all actuality, but when they would retire, and Shaun came over to his nest, Desmond was probably the happiest man on the face of the planet. He got his neck, chest, and face scratched, and even though Shaun insisted on teasing him about the little chirpy noises he made, he was in Heaven. He laid there and let him scratch and scratch until his fingers got sore—because then he would cuddle in close in the gargantuan nest and fall asleep, commenting on how much heat he put off. Desmond laid awake for a while more, sometimes listening to Malik comment on how different he was from Altair, yet exactly alike as well. Other times, he listened to Altair tell him about flying and how great it was.

And when he fell asleep, he began to dream about flying.

Everything was going relatively well until they reached the apple.

Of course, the nervous feeling his stomach hadn’t exactly encouraged him as he stood over the apple, listening to Shaun drone on and on about something stupid as he stared at it. He couldn’t say it didn’t lure him in, but the fact that Altair seemed to be fuming made him re-think picking it up. He stared at it until he heard Lucy beside him.

“Well? Should I pick it up?”

Desmond jumped, looking at her. “Nah, it’s okay, Lucy. I was just thinking. Well, listening.”

“To Shaun?” she deadpanned, giving him a disbelieving look as he grinned like a shit.

“No, to Altair. He doesn’t like the apple.”

“But… didn’t the Codex say…”

But it was too late, because Desmond was already scooping up the thing, more than a little curious. He was enveloped in a brilliant white light as he heard Altair’s cry of “Lucky!” He blinked, tilting his head at how much lighter he felt. His vision was off, completely disorienting, and he would have sworn his field of vision was larger. Remarkably so, he mused, and he looked around to find Shaun. But there was a problem: Shaun was now twice as big. He frowned and went to ask what the Hell happened and why everyone was staring at him as if he grew a second head, but all he heard was a squawk.

“Bloody hell…”

He tilted his head and tried to speak again, that time hearing a soft warble. He blinked and looked down. Then, with a cry of horror, he panicked when he saw brown and white feathers and clawed feet and the wall all at the same line. He was so disoriented he was going to puke as he tried to resituate himself.

“Desmond! Desmond! Calm down, mate!”

He was squawking and screaming as he tried to flail his arms and saw wings flapping. He screamed again, stomping his new scaled feet in terror as he kept up his panic attack. He was a bird.

He was a bird.

“Desmond! Calm down!”

He couldn’t help it, screaming and crying and wondering where the hell the apple was because he wanted his damn body back, and no one was even trying to comfort him in this horrific moment. Everyone was just watching him as he flailed and screamed, and not even offering a soothing word. Eventually, with one more anguished cry, he collapsed on the ground, wings outstretched and face on the floor, wishing he were dead. He was terrified, and he didn’t actually know what happened, hoping this is all some sort of bad dream, but he cried faintly when he saw Shaun step over and kneel beside him.

“Christ, I never thought I’d say this, ever, but I actually feel sorry for the poor bloke. Look at him.”

“Damn… he even looks afraid.”

“I’d be afraid,” Lucy murmured. “We need to contact headquarters. This is bad.”

Desmond cried out in agreement, still limp when he felt Shaun pick him up.

“He’s bleeding huge.”

“He’s a bald eagle, dude,” he heard Rebecca say.

As Lucy began to leave to find some way to talk to headquarters, Desmond was never happier that Shaun was holding him, scratching him, talking to him in a quiet voice. He kept crying out, hoping it was all a just a bad dream. He eventually folded in his wings and tucked his beak—beak!—beneath his wing. He drew his feet up and gave one more half-hearted chirp as he felt himself accept his fate and be doomed. He could hear Shaun sigh, stroking his back as he held him in both arms.

“What’re we gonna do with him now?” Rebecca asked. “Ship him out to a reserve or something?”

Desmond screamed, not hearing Shaun’s hiss of pain as his talons shot out and sliced him. He beat his wings furiously as he screeched again and took off into the air, flying the short distance to the other side of the room and landing rather clumsily, hopping to turn around and yell at Rebecca some more, despite his swimming vision issues. She was pressing cloth to Shaun’s arm, and Desmond kept screaming at her until he felt Lucy return.

“Okay then. No reserve for you.”

“We’re keeping him, Rebecca. That’s final. As much of a lughead as he may have been as a human, we still need him. I can take care of him if that’s what it takes.”

“Desmond?”