apologies about the delay; it's finals week here--have a big update as compensation! ---
X.
Altair's return is quiet, the other man evidently doing his best to not rouse Malik's temper once again; apparently there's some sense of self-preservation in his head, and he's realized that trying the Dai's patience after his display earlier would likely end with literal bloodshed. Recording Altair's kill and taking his bloodied feather, Malik's brusque offer of shelter and supplies, is the extent of their conversation, and Altair disappears afterwards through the lattice again, likely to cause more mischief on his own time before the sun sets.
Malik smells the blood and tenses before he processes the footsteps coming closer, whips his head upright as additional scents come to him as the distance between what's bleeding and the Bureau closes (he hadn't heard bells for ages; there were some half an hour ago, but they'd stopped quickly), and his eyes widen as the person registers, the Dai bolting out from behind his counter to the lattice as a bruised and bloodied Altair drops down into shelter with a groan and thump.
His legs buckle underneath him as he lands, sending him onto the floor, and the smell of iron is mixed with the markers for stress, exhilaration, satisfaction, pain, and Malik lays his hand on him before he really registers the action, attempting to soothe the spikes, before his mind catches up and he turns the action into examining Altair, trying to find his wounds.
"What happened," he snaps; the Assassin is bleeding from a gash on his upper arm, his temple, an arrow affixed in his side, which is the source of most of the blood, and Malik drags him closer to the fountain so he can start cleaning up the blood, mind already cataloging what he'll need, judging how serious the arrow wound is from the way Altair is clutching at it.
"There was a girl--"
"And what; did you get so addled by her scent that you lost basic reason?"
Altair growls, actually growls at him, low and throaty and threatening, and Malik can't help the shiver and stiffening of his spine at it; he tosses a scowl back at him for doing so before fetching bandages and rags, needle and thread. "She was being harassed by guards, Malik; I couldn't leave her--even betas don't deserve that sort of treatment."
Malik blinks, then blinks again, staring down at Altair for one surprised heartbeat as he processes the man's words; a beta? Only a beta, and a civilian at that? Why would Altair rescue a civilian that had nothing to do with his mission, be willing to risk injury for the sake of a stranger?
He shakes his head and kneels instead, snaps, "Relax" at Altair, else removing the arrow would be more painful that it will be already, and gets to work, hand moving automatically even as his mind races.
XI.
By the time Malik is done patching Altair up, night has fallen and two other Assassins are waiting to report on information from their respective missions; the Dai leaves Altair where he lies, deciding to not comment on the way the man is obviously clinging to consciousness in the wake of receding adrenaline and pain, and gestures both waiting into the inner room, where he records what they have to say.
They disappear soon afterwards, citing a previous engagement and a need to return to Masyaf quickly, and leave via the lattice; Malik closes and locks it after them with a sigh of relief before turning his attention back to the lightly-dozing Altair.
Then he shakes his head and goes to make a small dinner.
Malik prods Altair awake with his foot, enough food for the both of them balanced on a tray in his hand, and Altair snaps awake with a snarl, lashing out; Malik skips back easily, expecting the response, and steps closer again once the alpha winces and settles back at the pull of the stitches in his side, glaring up at Malik balefully.
"What."
In response, Malik kicks a cushion to him and seats himself upon it, setting the tray down between them; he gestures at the bread, olive oil, watered wine, figs, upon it, and Altair grunts almost apologetically and reaches over.
"No dates?"
"Do not test your luck, idiot."
Altair eats little and drinks even less, and gingerly rolls over to sleep afterwards; unfazed, Malik finishes his meal before standing and gathering the tray.
"Stay for a few days," he orders, "You're in no condition to ride back to Masyaf like that."
Altair's only response is to grunt, and Malik resists the childish urge to roll his eyes before retreating to his bedroom to sleep.
XII.
It's good that Altair follows his advice for once and stays at the Bureau; he has a fever by noon of the following day, and spends his time in irritable, broken sleep with a dampened cloth draped over his face. The fever is not serious (Altair has had worse at Masyaf, in the course of training--and Malik has to bite back memories and snarls at thinking of the past, pushes it firmly out of his head to be dealt with later), but it leaves the alpha testy, filling the front room with the scent of it and sickness, which in turn makes (Malik) the brothers and sisters that visit twitchy. No-one wants to cross an alpha that is giving off such strong signals, and, as the sun inches past its apex, Malik gives up and decides to risk Altair's temper, storming over and getting his shoulder underneath the alpha's chest.
Altair grunts in discomfort at the contact, then growls at Malik; he snarls back, which apparently startles Altair into a few moments of silence, during which the Dai says, "You're a nuisance even unconscious; I'm moving you into the back room."
Altair finds his feet in response, and Malik takes it as agreement.
He settles the alpha on one of the beds in a back room, helps Altair reachieve horizontal, checks his bandages, and goes back out into the front room for Altair's weapon belts and boots, which he brings back and dumps near the man; Malik touches him on the shoulder before he goes back outside, taking a moment to scent the air for undue stress.
Nothing; if anything, the amount that's there is lower than what he would have expected. That suits the Dai just fine, and he leaves Altair to sleep with a sense of satisfaction.
XIII.
Of course, the situation is a little different that night; Malik wakes up from his sleep at a solid thump that he hears even through the wall. Instinctively, he knows it's Altair, and he bolts out of bed and down the hall before he can think about it, pausing at the entrance to the infirmary as he assesses the situation.
Altair has managed to roll out of the bed in his fever-sleep, dragging all the blankets off of the bed with him and curling up on the cool stone floor; bright, slightly-glazed gold eyes stare balefully up at him from the mass of cloth, and Malik resists the urge to curse.
Instead, he goes to fetch water and comes back to the same sight.
"Altair," he tries, and gets nothing for his effort but a growl in response, an alpha sound warning unknowns away; Malik scoffs at it, because Altair's current condition hardly matches up with the threat implied in the noise. He steps closer, and the growl increases in volume before cutting off abruptly; Altair shifts, twitching as a movement evidently aggravates his wounds, leaning closer to Malik.
"Yes, it's me, you ass." Malik sighs, contemplates for a moment the futility of talking at Altair in the condition he's in, and steps closer instead, settling on the floor and holding out the cup of water he's holding towards him. "Drink."
Altair stares at it for a moment, then turns his attention back to Malik; the Dai grits his teeth as the Assassin leans even closer, threatening to topple over, and grudgingly moves closer so Altair doesn't fall onto his face. The alpha emits a pleased sort of rumbling noise at that, moving closer as well, more suddenly than he had, and Malik has to focus on not spilling the water as Altair practically looms over him, before leaning heavily on him and burying his face firmly in the crook of his neck.
Malik freezes. Resists the urge to bolt, because that would spill the water and dump Altair on his face and bruise his nose if nothing else (as appealing as the idea sounds), but the man's (more) out of his mind at the moment and Malik himself is possibly a bit half-asleep as well, because that's the only explanation he has for allowing Altair to stay there.
In fact, after a few heartbeats, all Malik can think to say is, "If you bite, I am punching you in the face, injuries or not. Drink the water," and Altair makes a grumbling noise of assent and annoyance, breath huffing out hot against the bare skin of Malik's neck and chest, before sitting up enough to take a few sips out of the cup and resettling himself where he'd been with an air of grumpiness.
"You are such a child," Malik hisses at him, prods him sharply in the ribs, which gets him another few sips of water and an annoyed growl, and keeps at it until the cup is empty. Stupid stubborn alphas, and Altair the most foolish and stubborn of them all.
"I'm not staying," he says after he's set the cup aside, and in response Altair leans on him with all his weight, and flaps up one arm to drape around Malik's neck, and the omega takes a few moments to catalogue all the ways he could leave Altair in extreme pain in retaliation against his familiarity before giving the entire thing up as a bad job and lying down in the mess of blankets Altair's created.
Altair presses against him, bare chest to bare chest, and snuffles contentedly at his neck, nosing at the curve of his ear and the corner of his jaw before settling; Malik reiterates his previous warning about physical violence in case of teeth, and Altair has the audacity to laugh at it before mumbling "thank you" to him and promptly dropping back off into sleep.
Malik stays awake, turning the words over in his head until Altair's fever breaks, before closing his eyes as well.
our lives together are a work in progress [4/?]
---
X.
Altair's return is quiet, the other man evidently doing his best to not rouse Malik's temper once again; apparently there's some sense of self-preservation in his head, and he's realized that trying the Dai's patience after his display earlier would likely end with literal bloodshed. Recording Altair's kill and taking his bloodied feather, Malik's brusque offer of shelter and supplies, is the extent of their conversation, and Altair disappears afterwards through the lattice again, likely to cause more mischief on his own time before the sun sets.
Malik smells the blood and tenses before he processes the footsteps coming closer, whips his head upright as additional scents come to him as the distance between what's bleeding and the Bureau closes (he hadn't heard bells for ages; there were some half an hour ago, but they'd stopped quickly), and his eyes widen as the person registers, the Dai bolting out from behind his counter to the lattice as a bruised and bloodied Altair drops down into shelter with a groan and thump.
His legs buckle underneath him as he lands, sending him onto the floor, and the smell of iron is mixed with the markers for stress, exhilaration, satisfaction, pain, and Malik lays his hand on him before he really registers the action, attempting to soothe the spikes, before his mind catches up and he turns the action into examining Altair, trying to find his wounds.
"What happened," he snaps; the Assassin is bleeding from a gash on his upper arm, his temple, an arrow affixed in his side, which is the source of most of the blood, and Malik drags him closer to the fountain so he can start cleaning up the blood, mind already cataloging what he'll need, judging how serious the arrow wound is from the way Altair is clutching at it.
"There was a girl--"
"And what; did you get so addled by her scent that you lost basic reason?"
Altair growls, actually growls at him, low and throaty and threatening, and Malik can't help the shiver and stiffening of his spine at it; he tosses a scowl back at him for doing so before fetching bandages and rags, needle and thread. "She was being harassed by guards, Malik; I couldn't leave her--even betas don't deserve that sort of treatment."
Malik blinks, then blinks again, staring down at Altair for one surprised heartbeat as he processes the man's words; a beta? Only a beta, and a civilian at that? Why would Altair rescue a civilian that had nothing to do with his mission, be willing to risk injury for the sake of a stranger?
He shakes his head and kneels instead, snaps, "Relax" at Altair, else removing the arrow would be more painful that it will be already, and gets to work, hand moving automatically even as his mind races.
XI.
By the time Malik is done patching Altair up, night has fallen and two other Assassins are waiting to report on information from their respective missions; the Dai leaves Altair where he lies, deciding to not comment on the way the man is obviously clinging to consciousness in the wake of receding adrenaline and pain, and gestures both waiting into the inner room, where he records what they have to say.
They disappear soon afterwards, citing a previous engagement and a need to return to Masyaf quickly, and leave via the lattice; Malik closes and locks it after them with a sigh of relief before turning his attention back to the lightly-dozing Altair.
Then he shakes his head and goes to make a small dinner.
Malik prods Altair awake with his foot, enough food for the both of them balanced on a tray in his hand, and Altair snaps awake with a snarl, lashing out; Malik skips back easily, expecting the response, and steps closer again once the alpha winces and settles back at the pull of the stitches in his side, glaring up at Malik balefully.
"What."
In response, Malik kicks a cushion to him and seats himself upon it, setting the tray down between them; he gestures at the bread, olive oil, watered wine, figs, upon it, and Altair grunts almost apologetically and reaches over.
"No dates?"
"Do not test your luck, idiot."
Altair eats little and drinks even less, and gingerly rolls over to sleep afterwards; unfazed, Malik finishes his meal before standing and gathering the tray.
"Stay for a few days," he orders, "You're in no condition to ride back to Masyaf like that."
Altair's only response is to grunt, and Malik resists the childish urge to roll his eyes before retreating to his bedroom to sleep.
XII.
It's good that Altair follows his advice for once and stays at the Bureau; he has a fever by noon of the following day, and spends his time in irritable, broken sleep with a dampened cloth draped over his face. The fever is not serious (Altair has had worse at Masyaf, in the course of training--and Malik has to bite back memories and snarls at thinking of the past, pushes it firmly out of his head to be dealt with later), but it leaves the alpha testy, filling the front room with the scent of it and sickness, which in turn makes (Malik) the brothers and sisters that visit twitchy. No-one wants to cross an alpha that is giving off such strong signals, and, as the sun inches past its apex, Malik gives up and decides to risk Altair's temper, storming over and getting his shoulder underneath the alpha's chest.
Altair grunts in discomfort at the contact, then growls at Malik; he snarls back, which apparently startles Altair into a few moments of silence, during which the Dai says, "You're a nuisance even unconscious; I'm moving you into the back room."
Altair finds his feet in response, and Malik takes it as agreement.
He settles the alpha on one of the beds in a back room, helps Altair reachieve horizontal, checks his bandages, and goes back out into the front room for Altair's weapon belts and boots, which he brings back and dumps near the man; Malik touches him on the shoulder before he goes back outside, taking a moment to scent the air for undue stress.
Nothing; if anything, the amount that's there is lower than what he would have expected. That suits the Dai just fine, and he leaves Altair to sleep with a sense of satisfaction.
XIII.
Of course, the situation is a little different that night; Malik wakes up from his sleep at a solid thump that he hears even through the wall. Instinctively, he knows it's Altair, and he bolts out of bed and down the hall before he can think about it, pausing at the entrance to the infirmary as he assesses the situation.
Altair has managed to roll out of the bed in his fever-sleep, dragging all the blankets off of the bed with him and curling up on the cool stone floor; bright, slightly-glazed gold eyes stare balefully up at him from the mass of cloth, and Malik resists the urge to curse.
Instead, he goes to fetch water and comes back to the same sight.
"Altair," he tries, and gets nothing for his effort but a growl in response, an alpha sound warning unknowns away; Malik scoffs at it, because Altair's current condition hardly matches up with the threat implied in the noise. He steps closer, and the growl increases in volume before cutting off abruptly; Altair shifts, twitching as a movement evidently aggravates his wounds, leaning closer to Malik.
"Yes, it's me, you ass." Malik sighs, contemplates for a moment the futility of talking at Altair in the condition he's in, and steps closer instead, settling on the floor and holding out the cup of water he's holding towards him. "Drink."
Altair stares at it for a moment, then turns his attention back to Malik; the Dai grits his teeth as the Assassin leans even closer, threatening to topple over, and grudgingly moves closer so Altair doesn't fall onto his face. The alpha emits a pleased sort of rumbling noise at that, moving closer as well, more suddenly than he had, and Malik has to focus on not spilling the water as Altair practically looms over him, before leaning heavily on him and burying his face firmly in the crook of his neck.
Malik freezes. Resists the urge to bolt, because that would spill the water and dump Altair on his face and bruise his nose if nothing else (as appealing as the idea sounds), but the man's (more) out of his mind at the moment and Malik himself is possibly a bit half-asleep as well, because that's the only explanation he has for allowing Altair to stay there.
In fact, after a few heartbeats, all Malik can think to say is, "If you bite, I am punching you in the face, injuries or not. Drink the water," and Altair makes a grumbling noise of assent and annoyance, breath huffing out hot against the bare skin of Malik's neck and chest, before sitting up enough to take a few sips out of the cup and resettling himself where he'd been with an air of grumpiness.
"You are such a child," Malik hisses at him, prods him sharply in the ribs, which gets him another few sips of water and an annoyed growl, and keeps at it until the cup is empty. Stupid stubborn alphas, and Altair the most foolish and stubborn of them all.
"I'm not staying," he says after he's set the cup aside, and in response Altair leans on him with all his weight, and flaps up one arm to drape around Malik's neck, and the omega takes a few moments to catalogue all the ways he could leave Altair in extreme pain in retaliation against his familiarity before giving the entire thing up as a bad job and lying down in the mess of blankets Altair's created.
Altair presses against him, bare chest to bare chest, and snuffles contentedly at his neck, nosing at the curve of his ear and the corner of his jaw before settling; Malik reiterates his previous warning about physical violence in case of teeth, and Altair has the audacity to laugh at it before mumbling "thank you" to him and promptly dropping back off into sleep.
Malik stays awake, turning the words over in his head until Altair's fever breaks, before closing his eyes as well.