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3:88	By : Imoshen Category: +A through F > Assassin's Creed Views: 12171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any of its characters. I do not make any money by publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15
- 16-Part 16
- 17-Part 17
- 18-Part 18
- 19-Part 19
- 20-Part 20
- 21-Part 21
- 22-Part 22
- 23-Part 23
- 24-Part 24
- 25-Part 25
- 26-Part 26
- 27-Part 27
- 28-Part 28
- 29-Part 29
- 30-Part 30
- 31-Part 31
- 32-Part 32
- 33-Part 33
- 34-Part 34
- 35-Part 35
- 36-Prt 36
- 37-Part 37
- 38-Part 38
- 39-Part 39
- 40-Part 40
- 41-Part 41
- 42-Part 42
- 43-Part 43
- 44-Part 44
- 45-Part 45
- 19
- 20
- 21
I'm still sick.

- Does that mean we can't meet tonight?

Exactly. I'm sorry.

- Yeah, me too.

Altair read through his messages as he was sitting on the train, a cup of hot soup in one hand as bright lights rushed by the windows. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea, not at all. But on the bright side: Malik was probably too sick to rip off his head anyway so Altair simply shrugged with his shoulders. He really wanted to see Malik and if it meant he had to stop at his place to bring him some warm soup in order for him to get better – so be it.

He got off at the next station, walking the rest of the way until he stood in front of the large building, looking up the front. Alright... okay... He could do this.

He was just about to press the doorbell as an elderly woman opened the door, smiling at him. “You want to go inside?”, she asked him and held the door open.

Altair thought for a split second and nodded. “Uhm, yeah thank you”, and he quickly walked past her, the smell of fresh tomato soup following him. It didn't take too long for him to get up to Malik's floor and while he'd only been there one time so far, he could still remember his apartment's number and which turn he had to take as he walked down the hall. When he finally reached Malik's door he just stood there, thinking, and he rose his hand, ready to knock but stopped mid-air.

“I get your medicine when I get off work!”

Shit.

Altair quickly withdrew his hand and made to turn away but it was already too late. The door opened and he stood face to face with Kadar. The young man arched his eyebrows at him. “Oh! Hey”, he grinned and waved at Altair. Okay – now he had to just go through with it.

“Uh, hello...” Altair craned his neck, trying to see around Kadar, and fuck that little bastard he could wipe off that damn smirk of his right now! “Is... uhm, I came to see Malik”, he stuttered and was blushing even harder because really, talking to somebody who'd just outgrew puberty and he shouldn't feel so self-conscious in front of the younger brother. If only Kadar hadn't seen him kneeling, gagged and blindfolded waiting for Malik.

“Malik!”, Kadar shouted, his eyes never leaving Altair's while he had this huge, shit eating grin on his face. “You have a visitor!”, and Altair flinched when Kadar screamed the last part. Oh god damn that kid... He wondered if Malik’s sadism rubbed off on him, there was no other way for the kid to be tormenting Altair in such a way.

“I don't want to see anybody!”

Wow, he had no idea Malik got still his voice but that raspy sound of it made him sound even more... well, sexy.

Alright. So he'd just thought of Malik as sexy. That was a first.

“Oh you want to see this one”, Kadar grinned and Altair had no idea if he was talking to himself or to Malik as he muttered the words. The young man took a step aside. “You can find him in his bedroom. Door to the left next to the kitchen”, he told Altair and pushed himself in between Altair and the door frame, their chests touching. “You better be nice to him this time. He's been miserable the last couple of weeks”, he grinned still and Altair didn't even get the chance for a reply as Kadar made sure to quickly walk down the hall, heading towards the elevators. For a moment he just stood there, dumbfounded, the cup of soup in his hand almost forgotten and the door still open.

“Kadar?” It was Malik's voice again, a little quieter this time but still in distress. “Kadar!”

Altair took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever might come and closed the door as he stepped inside. He couldn't believe he was once more inside Malik's apartment after all these weeks, almost months. It still looked the same yet completely different. No, that wasn't right. It didn't look... as tidy as it did the night he came with Malik. There were a few t-shirts discarded over the couch, one or two socks on the coffee table and there were dirty dishes stacked in messy piles on the kitchen counter. So now he knew Malik was a busy little housewife who liked to make sure everything was squeaky-clean. The thought made Altair grin. Clearly, Kadar did not inherit that trait from his older brother.

He heard a loud sneeze and looked towards Malik’s bedroom door. Could he do this? A coughing fit followed soon and Altair felt something close to pity. Yes he could . He knocked on his door and slowly opened it, sticking his head into Malik's room and something hit his head. What the...?

“Get out”, Malik barked and while Altair knew he was angry he couldn't take him all too seriously. He reached with his hand for his head and pulled the sock from his eyes. A sock... a dirty sock.

“Aw, fuck Malik! You're disgusting!” Altair threw it away and opened the door wider, stepping inside the room and closing it behind him. “And to think I was worried about you... and brought you soup. Tch. I don't think you deserve it now.” He looked up just then, his eyes set on the man's bed immediately.

There he was, laying underneath the covers on his side, hair tousled, the sheets riding low his hips and one arm shoved underneath his cushion. “Altair”, he groaned and pulled his pillow over his head, voice muffled. “Go away, I'm sick. You'll get sick too.”

Altair slowly went towards him until he reached the bed and he sat down onto the edge, placing the cup of soup on Malik's small bedside table. “No I won't”, he murmured softly and thought for a second if he should put his hand on Malik's shoulder, his fingers already reaching for him but when he was about to touch him, he withdrew. Instead, he folded his hands in his lap.

“I'm sorry I'm... I just-”

“You couldn't wait could you?”, Malik muttered from underneath the pillow.

“No it's not that. I mean yes but-”

“Hey Altair.” Malik slowly pulled the pillow from his head and oh – he looked really tired, dark circles underneath his eyes and his nose red, lips and eyes puffy. “I'm too weak to kill you right now but if you ever come again to my place without telling me first, I will kick your ass. I don't like it, okay? I respect your boundaries so be kind enough and respect mine.” His head fell slowly back onto the pillow and Altair could tell it took almost all of Malik's strength for him to form the sentence.

“I- I didn't think it'd be that big a deal. Sorry...” He smiled helplessly at him but the corners of his mouth were trembling.

“You're forgiven... I think I'm smelling food.”

“Oh, yeah about that... brought you some soup.”

“What kind?”

“Tomato.”

Malik sat slowly up, groaning and he looked at the cup to his side then at Altair. “Shit, I so forgive you. Kadar's no good when it comes to cooking. I think I'm close to starving.” He opened the lid and took a deep breath in though Altair doubted he could really smell it. Hot steam brushed over Malik's cheeks and he closed his eyes, a small smile of content standing on his lips. Altair relaxed slowly, releasing a short breath and allowed his gaze to travel over Malik's body. “So... you're not angry?”

Malik swallowed a bit of soup and placed the cup on the bedside table, rolling on his back as he pulled his sheets a little higher. “I'm not angry at you”, he frowned and smiled a little, his eyes still looking glassy like he had a fever which was probably true. “It's just that I look like shit and you really shouldn't have come here.”

“Are you afraid of me seeing you vulnerable?” Altair flashed him a small teasing but good-natured smile.

“I'm not vulnerable, I'm sick”, Malik huffed and coughed, palm covering his mouth.

“You're as vulnerable as a newborn fawn. It's cute actually.”

If looks could kill Altair would drop dead right now. The glare Malik sent him would intimidate most people and Altair would feel so himself if it wasn’t for the fact that Malik was sick and he looked so... very human right now. It was not as if Altair didn’t whiteness something like that before, but his past experiences showed only glimpses of Malik without a veil of ice shading his emotions. Right now though, the man was bare in front of him, no walls or barb-wires to rise and keep Altair away from the man.

“Shut up”, Malik muttered and he reached for the cup of soup, groaning as Altair placed one hand next to his cushion, leaning across and over him to get it for Malik. Their faces were close like this, really close and only when Altair felt Malik's breath crawling over his skin, smelling like cough syrup did he realize what position they were in. He stopped his movements, watching Malik from the corner of his eyes. Malik's lips were slightly parted and he was licking across them, leaving them glistening. He felt nervous all over again, just as he'd felt before he walked into the building when he was thinking about just turning around and go back home. He had made a decision back then and made another one just right now. His fingers never reached the cup of soup.

He was kissing him, kissing Malik, his lips meeting his. Altair's fingers curled as his hand landed on the man's shoulder while he pulled his knee up, straddling Malik's lap. Malik tensed but relaxed just as quickly, groaning as Altair leaned closer still. He breathed softly through his nose and cupped Malik's face with both hands, his lips moving in small waves against his mouth, the tip of his tongue running across it. It was slow, almost lazy yet sensual, growing within seconds and Altair felt hot all over. The back of his head tingled, goosebumps were sprouting quickly over his skin. His heart beat a steady rhythm and white noise filled his ears. Everything he could focus on, everything he could feel was that man underneath him and it was all he really needed.

It was their first real kiss. Of course they've shared kisses before and Altair had enjoyed them, very much so, but it'd been either rushed or sloppy and passionate but never as sensual and loving as it was now. He didn't care that Malik was sick, he would kiss him again and again and again, the faint traces of cough syrup on his tongue just adding to the warm, fuzzy feeling bubbling deep inside his stomach.

Altair only pulled away when he had to come up for some air and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking down on Malik.

Malik looked confused while Altair held sort of a goofy grin. Less than a moment later his eyes hardened and he tried to push against Altair's shoulder but was too weak and couldn’t even manage a light shove. “I didn't give you per-”

“Permission?” Altair still grinned and it was only widening now. “Please. You so enjoyed it.”

“I did not. It's gross, I'm sick and-”

“And you moaned a little.”

“I couldn't breathe!”

“You moaned, I could hear it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No I did-”

Altair leaned down and swallowed the words as he kissed him again. Malik attempted to resist at first, but his dismay was quick to wilt. He let his palm rest flat between Altair’s shoulder blades, his fingers creating tiny creases in the rough fabric and gently urging the man to deepen their kiss.

The soup stood forgotten on the bedside table. Needless to say, Malik never got to taste more of it.
- 19
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