That night, Malik sat at his small dinner table with his younger brother, Kadar.

The two lived, mostly, alone. Malik's mother had died when he was very young. Not soon after her death, his father had remarried to a young British woman that he had met on of his many business trips. Kadar was born to them and as soon as he was old enough to be left alone, his mother had gone back to her home in Britain. It seemed she didn't wish to stay in America much longer. That left their rather inept father behind to take care of them.

In the end, he left Malik in charge and continued his normal career. What he did Malik wasn't entirely sure. All he knew was that the man was almost always traveling and generally only stayed home for two week spans. He didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed the freedom his father's constant absence gave him. It taught him responsibility and very much explained his protectiveness.

Still they were young and they couldn't do everything. That meant, that, should they need anything they went next door to Leonardo Da Vinci's house. He was the schools art teacher and fit the stereotype very well. The man was strange and a little scatter brained but he was always more then happy to help them.

"Allah, Mr. Vidic is such a douche, " Kadar complained, stabbing moodily at his green beans.

Malik looked up. "The Human Anatomy teacher?" He asked, around a mouthful of pork chop. Thanks to their father's constant absences, Malik had learned how to cook and was, shockingly, quite good at it.

Kadar nodded, still stabbing his food. "He assigned us a twelve page research paper on recent developments in DNA technology."

Malik swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Shit like machines that can read genetic code. Or something about DNA memory. I wasn't paying attention."

"You were staring at Frederico Auditore again, weren't you?" Malik teased, pointing his fork at his younger brother.

Kadar's eyes widened and he flushed slightly. Since he was half-British, he had large, expressive blue eyes and pale skin that easily showed his blushes. Otherwise, he was built very much like Malik, if not a tad shorter and with a bit more softness around the edges.

"I was not!" He replied. "Besides, even if I was it's not like he would notice. He's always ogling that Vieri kid." Kadar sighed, looking utterly distressed.

"Vieri's a dick," Malik said. "Eventually Frederico will get over him and see just how adorable you are."

There was a snort from the young man. "Whatever. I'm just as bad as you when it comes to love."

"What are you talking about?" Malik looked indignant. "I'm perfectly capable---"

"You still haven't told Altair, have you?"

Malik stopped and stared. His fork went slack in his left hand. "What are you talking about?"

There was silence, then Kadar's face lit up in silent knowledge. Kadar loved to have something to hold against his brother. It made his lips quirk upwards and his eyes spark with smugness. He laced his hands on the table and leaned forward.

"Come on, Mal-mal," he said, emphasizing the nickname Altair had created. "I know how you look at him. You like him."

Malik swallowed thickly, refusing to meet his brother's eyes. "That's impossible. That ass isn't attractive in the least."

Kadar rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. That's why whenever he calls you Mal-mal or gets uncomfortably close, you get all flustered. Because he's so unattractive it's throwing your mind-set." Kadar smirked. "Let me guess, you talked to him right before practice, didn't you?"

Malik glowered at his pork chop, as if it was the one teasing him.

"You did! That's why you were playing so hard. You know you almost broke Ezio's hand from how hard you kicked that one goal." Kadar snickered at the memory. Ezio's face had been simply priceless. "You only get that energetic right after you talk with him."

Malik finally looked up. "Okay, okay. I get it. You're on observant little worm," he snapped.

"So, what happened?" Kadar demanded, ignoring the insult completely.