Hope my fill's okay so far, too lazy to search for mistakes DX Rest should be up by tomorrow or so.
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„Safety and peace, brother.“
Malik looked up from his many documents and books, a startled gasp escaping his mouth. He hadn’t even heard Altaïr approach and inwardly cursed himself for being so careless. Of course, here in the fortress of Masyaf, in the Grand Master’s bureau, there was nothing to be feared, but what if he had been somewhere else, with someone else than Altaïr stalking him?
“Altaïr,” he said casually, trying not to look too agitated, “What brings you here?”
A sigh. “You seem to forget that this is actually my room now,” the master assassin mumbled, and one might have thought that his intention by saying this was to scold his right hand, but Malik was able to hear the invisible smile that accompanied the words.
Ah, Altaïr-- he was always so anxious to hide his feelings. And even though there was nothing bad about the hiding, the realization that he did this because of his goddamn guilt still hurt Malik. Latter had already done as much as tell the other one to stop this charade, that he had already forgiven him (in fact, not him, but the old Altaïr), and yet this stubborn creature did not understand, or better, did not even try to understand.
It made Malik’s blood boil, but despite his anger, he chose to remain calm and collected as he stood to embrace the other one before removing the hood that almost always concealed his features. Altaïr complied with a slight flinch, not looking the former dai into the eyes but instead letting his gaze roam about the paperwork on the desk.
Of course Malik was aware of Altaïr’s evasiveness, so he decided to break the awkward silence between them to lighten up the other’s mood a bit. “Well, have you brought the ink I asked you to get me?”
“Yes, I have,” was the short reply. Altaïr’s hand moved to one of his many pouches at his waist, and when Malik saw this out of the corners of his eyes, his own hand shot out to stop it halfway. The master assassin’s sucked in breath made him smirk deviously.
“Good,” he drawled out, liking the bewilderment he could read in Altaïr’s eyes. Surely he suspected something foul already, as this wasn’t really the first time Malik sought closer contact.
His hand made sure that the other one’s stayed where it was first, before slowly making its way into the pouch in which the former dai presumed the ink to be in. Since the pouch was located near Altaïr’s butt, it was no wonder the assassin knitted his eyebrows in dismay when he felt the foreign hand intrude the pocket.
Despite it all, however, he remained silent until the pot was pulled all the way out. This was something that Malik could not stand at all—why did the other not simply say that it always bothered him when they got so intimately close?
“Ghabi,” Malik cursed under his breath, taking a step back and shooting Altaïr an angry look. “Why can’t you simply tell me what’s wrong? Am I not good-looking enough for you? Is there another one already?” When the master assassin did not react, he spat, “Tell me already, you fool! You’re honest with anyone else, but not with me! Why?!”
“I already told you,” Altaïr finally answered and sat down on the chair which Malik had previously occupied. It seemed that it had taken all of his courage to say this— he had always been a somewhat distant and emotionally cold person, of course, but in Malik’s eyes, this was ridiculous. How long had they known each other already? Ever since they had still been children!
“Quit this pointless whining! You know just as well as I do that everything that has ever happened lies far behind now, and you shouldn’t concern yourself with it anymore!” He took a deep breath. “It seems you won’t ever understand it.”
Altaïr stayed silent, as usual. Something had to be done, Malik would not stand for this needless guilt and cowardice anymore.
Fill: Make you understand
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„Safety and peace, brother.“
Malik looked up from his many documents and books, a startled gasp escaping his mouth. He hadn’t even heard Altaïr approach and inwardly cursed himself for being so careless. Of course, here in the fortress of Masyaf, in the Grand Master’s bureau, there was nothing to be feared, but what if he had been somewhere else, with someone else than Altaïr stalking him?
“Altaïr,” he said casually, trying not to look too agitated, “What brings you here?”
A sigh. “You seem to forget that this is actually my room now,” the master assassin mumbled, and one might have thought that his intention by saying this was to scold his right hand, but Malik was able to hear the invisible smile that accompanied the words.
Ah, Altaïr-- he was always so anxious to hide his feelings. And even though there was nothing bad about the hiding, the realization that he did this because of his goddamn guilt still hurt Malik. Latter had already done as much as tell the other one to stop this charade, that he had already forgiven him (in fact, not him, but the old Altaïr), and yet this stubborn creature did not understand, or better, did not even try to understand.
It made Malik’s blood boil, but despite his anger, he chose to remain calm and collected as he stood to embrace the other one before removing the hood that almost always concealed his features. Altaïr complied with a slight flinch, not looking the former dai into the eyes but instead letting his gaze roam about the paperwork on the desk.
Of course Malik was aware of Altaïr’s evasiveness, so he decided to break the awkward silence between them to lighten up the other’s mood a bit.
“Well, have you brought the ink I asked you to get me?”
“Yes, I have,” was the short reply. Altaïr’s hand moved to one of his many pouches at his waist, and when Malik saw this out of the corners of his eyes, his own hand shot out to stop it halfway. The master assassin’s sucked in breath made him smirk deviously.
“Good,” he drawled out, liking the bewilderment he could read in Altaïr’s eyes. Surely he suspected something foul already, as this wasn’t really the first time Malik sought closer contact.
His hand made sure that the other one’s stayed where it was first, before slowly making its way into the pouch in which the former dai presumed the ink to be in. Since the pouch was located near Altaïr’s butt, it was no wonder the assassin knitted his eyebrows in dismay when he felt the foreign hand intrude the pocket.
Despite it all, however, he remained silent until the pot was pulled all the way out. This was something that Malik could not stand at all—why did the other not simply say that it always bothered him when they got so intimately close?
“Ghabi,” Malik cursed under his breath, taking a step back and shooting Altaïr an angry look. “Why can’t you simply tell me what’s wrong? Am I not good-looking enough for you? Is there another one already?” When the master assassin did not react, he spat, “Tell me already, you fool! You’re honest with anyone else, but not with me! Why?!”
“I already told you,” Altaïr finally answered and sat down on the chair which Malik had previously occupied. It seemed that it had taken all of his courage to say this— he had always been a somewhat distant and emotionally cold person, of course, but in Malik’s eyes, this was ridiculous. How long had they known each other already? Ever since they had still been children!
“Quit this pointless whining! You know just as well as I do that everything that has ever happened lies far behind now, and you shouldn’t concern yourself with it anymore!” He took a deep breath. “It seems you won’t ever understand it.”
Altaïr stayed silent, as usual. Something had to be done, Malik would not stand for this needless guilt and cowardice anymore.