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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
- 27
- 28
- 29
“Come on Altair. Let's head home. We could go and get a beer”, Rauf said as he was about to pack his bag, computer already turned off.

“I'm really not done with work yet”, Altair muttered and leaned closer to his screen, reading the last bits of the article he was currently writing. He saw Rauf walking up to him, saw him from the corner of his eye leaning against his desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest and bag over one shoulder. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his glasses. Rauf didn't wear them often, he said they made him hideous and Altair always rolled his eyes at him when he said that because come on, it's just glasses! Not like as if half of his face was blown off or something...

“You've worked enough for and I really doubt you're going to finish this today with how often you pull out your cell and look at it”, Rauf commented dryly and reached for Altair's computer mouse, saving his file and closed the program. “Hey! I said I wasn't done yet.”

“I know”, Rauf hummed, “but you're coming with me and we're going to have a beer down at Frankie's.”

“Not Frankie's”, Altair huffed, rolling his eyes. Frankie's did not only sound like some joint from the 50s or 40s, no, it also looked like one. He had no idea why Rauf liked it so much, it was dark and smelled and looked like as if its best days were over... but the beer was good and oh yeah, that's probably why Rauf liked it so much. Good beer, for sure.

“Yeah we go”, Rauf said in a voice which didn't leave room for any more discussion and it was finale, Altair was going with him no matter what and he turned off his computer. “Besides, I think it'll do you some good not to be alone tonight. You might do something stupid and call that idiot again.”

“He's not an idiot”, Altair hissed and took his bag, swinging it over his shoulder and got ready to leave. “He's just an asshole.”

“Same thing”, Rauf shrugged with his shoulders as they walked towards the elevator. “I honestly don't understand why you're still thinking about him. I mean first of all he lacks the boobs”, Rauf told Altair and yeah, he couldn't help it but smile. They stepped inside and Rauf pushed the button, only seconds later they were moving fourteen floors downstairs.

“It's not that bad you know? Asshole or not, he's still attractive-”

“So you're thinking about going back because of his looks?” Rauf cocked an eyebrow at him, making a face as if he couldn't believe his words.

“No you idiot.” Altair rolled his eyes and leaned with his back against the elevator's doors, hands shoved into his pockets. “You don't actually think I'm sick or gross, do you?”, he added after a short while of silence and looked up at Rauf.

“For what?”

“For dating a man?”

Rauf snorted, “Course not – who do you think I am? Westboro Baptist Church?” Rauf shuddered. “Altair, come on dude... You know I'm alright with you being into a man and don't look at me like that, you totally are into him. I mean you haven't told me much and you don't have to but when you've been thinking about him or talking about him, most of the times I've seen you pissed so I'm wondering what you're actually seeing in him that makes you miss him so much.”

“Isn't it enough when I say I like him? And I haven't been angry all the time, Malik is... Malik, you know?”

The elevator stopped and they made their way through the big entrance hall and stepped outside and into the street. Frankie's was down the block, just a few minutes of walking.

“People should be what they appear to be”, Altair muttered and he was talking more to himself than to Rauf actually, but the other man simply arched an eyebrow at Altair with a questioning look standing on his face. “If they're not honest, they shouldn't look like they are...”

“What?”

“Othello”, Altair said softly, smiling weakly. “It means Malik's not what he looks like but... even good people think horrible things sometimes. Who is so pure that they never think a bad thought?”

xxxxx

“What do you think so far?”

“I think Othellos's being an idiot”, Altair snorted and stretched in his seat when the lights were going on again to indicate the small break between acts. Malik had propped his chin up on his palm, watching Altair with interest. “Yes? Why so?”

“He claims to be in love with Desdemona but he's spinning conclusions build upon nothing but simple speculations. There's not reason for Cassio or Desdemona to betray Othello and yet he believes only what he wants to believe. He's a stubborn bastard if you ask me, he's making up his own little world and reality and Iago is no help at all.”

Malik chuckled at that and Altair frowned, not sure if Malik was laughing about him or not. “You could say it like this but you know, Shakespeare loves tragedies and dramas and-”

“Yeah I can tell this is not going to end well”, Altair chuckled and stood up as Malik did. They had about thirty minutes to kill now before the fourth and last act would start. Most people had already gotten up to use the restrooms or getting something to drink so they made their way rather quickly down into the lobby where they found a quite corner to stand in.

“You look thirsty”, Malik hummed and looked over his shoulder at the bar. “So what would you like to have?”

“Are you inviting me?”, Altair pondered and watched how Malik nodded. “You don't have to.”

“Oh but I want to Altair”, he purred and stepped closer, his knuckles brushing over Altair's cheek and he thought it was ridiculous for him to blush because of something as innocent as a simple touch. “Come on, enjoy yourself and don't question everything I do. Do you want a drink or not? It's really just as easy as that.”

“I want a drink”, Altair nodded and gnawed on his bottom lip and Malik smiled, a smile which turned his knees weak.

“Alright then”, Malik grinned and Altair could tell he was pleased by his answer. “Let me get you something... any special wishes?”

“Uhm... no whiskey”, he said carefully and Malik actually pouted at him.

“What, no whiskey? But didn't I teach you anything?”, he groaned and rolled his eyes in a faked manner, chuckling still and Altair thought he could get used to this, seeing Malik like that, carefree and happy. “Alright I get you something princess”, he told Altair while shaking his head, still smiling as he made his way towards the bar. The princess-part was a sidekick for Altair giving him names when he'd been sick and Altair thought Malik would never let it live down... oh well. If it's just that, Altair was sure he'd be able to survive. He followed Malik with his eyes until he lost him in the crowd of people. It took Malik quite a while to return and he actually missed the older man when he leaned with his back against the wall. Malik was fun talking to, Altair couldn't deny that and he was having a good time. The play was good, interesting and it was actually very mind stimulating to talk with Malik about Othello. Something Altair was certain he hadn't done with any of his dates ever before, not even with Maria. Well, that didn't mean he hadn'f fun with Maria – he did have fun with her and quite a lot but Malik... Malik was showing him new things and for that he was glad. He had no idea how the journey would end, but with Malik everything seemed possible. When he was thinking about it, Altair thought Malik was more like a prism: held up in the right angle one was able to see the true colors that make up white light. Altair just had to figure out the right angle yet.

He soon watched how Malik returned, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a glass of-

“No”, Altair shook his head. “I'm not some woman you have to bewitch”, he huffed but took the glass of champagne from him. “They didn't have beer or anything else more... manly?”

“What's not manly about champagne?”, Malik snorted and he held up his glass, “Cheers.”

“I don't know-”

“See? So stop worrying about such trivial things, really Altair”, Malik clicked his tongue at him and smirked again, taking a sip of whiskey while Altair stared down into his glass, watching the bubbles.

“Is this something you usually do?”, Altair asked eventually, his thumb rubbing along the glass, then looked up at Malik.

“What, going to watch a play? I do like that though I hardly find the time to do it regularly and-”

“No I mean, taking your dates to the theater”, Altair interrupted him and Malik blinked at him.

“No I think not”, he smiled and shook his head then leaned it to one side, his eyes roaming over Altair until their gazes met. “Do you enjoy this?”

“Othello? I think I like it though Othello... he's such a jerk, I just want to rip off his head for his stupidity-”

“I meant us. Do you enjoy us going out like this?”

Oh... oh! Altair blinked a couple of times and for a moment he didn't know how he'd be able to answer this.

He smiled softly. “You know I think I do – it's refreshing to see you're not such an asshole as I thought you'd be.”

What Malik did next surprised Altair, he leaned closer and cupped his jaw their faces almost too closely together. “A good reputation is the most valuable thing we have”, and Altair gasped softly when he heard him quoting Othello and then went on with it, “If you steal my money, you're just stealing trash. It's something, it's nothing: it's yours, it's mine, and it'll belong to thousands more. But if you steal my reputation, you're robbing me of something that doesn't make you richer, but makes me much poorer”, and then he closed the gap and kissed him.

He felt his back pressing tightly against the wall, one of Malik's legs pushing in between his own as his hand fell from Altair's jaw to wrap around his waist and he was breathing heavily once Malik let go, short of breath and with his heart beating wildly. “What are you so afraid of losing?”, Altair whispered as they stood close still, his eyes roaming over Malik's lips which were still glistening with the faint tracks of saliva. “What could I possibly witness if you'd let go of your guard?”

“That's another story”, Malik said and swallowed heavily, “a story I'd rather not tell tonight.”

“That's alright”, Altair nodded, “you don't own me anything Malik.”

“It's not about that”, Malik murmured softly and slipped his hand into Altair's, squeezing it again. “It's about choosing.”

“What now?” Altair looked dumbfounded at him. “Just... What?”

“You are choosing how you'd like to see me. I've made an impression on you the first time we met and what little information you've had about me you took and created a picture I couldn't live up to. So if I'm going to tell you this story, it's not about me owning you something – that's a dumb saying by the way, But it's about me choosing to let you know about it so you can get another piece of the puzzle to get the picture you have of me right.”

“Do you like to think about yourself as a puzzle?”, Altair asked him and looked at Malik as if he'd had lost his mind.

“Sometimes, yes”, he agreed with a small grin.

“How about a prism?”

“Excuse me?” Malik cocked one eyebrow.

“A prism, you know? I think you like to think of yourself as white light.”

“White light?”

“Since it's not what it appears to the naked eye. White light is much more complex and you like to play roles, I got that by now – it's not like as if I don't enjoy playing them”, he added with a small smirk and his cheeks were painting red. “White light embodies all of the colors, but keeps them hidden. I think this rather symbolizes what you're trying to do all the time.”

Malik blinked at him, stunned. “I would like to see your true colors at some time”, Altair added in a soft voice. “But tonight it seems I got to see a new one.”

“And what color am I now?”, Malik pondered.

“Red”, Altair told him and watched how Malik arched one eyebrow again.

“Red?”

Altair nodded.

“Why red? What does it stand for?”

“You're red because you're passionate.”

Malik smirked. “Well thank you, I know I can blow your mind sometimes and-”

“Not because of sex”, Altair interrupted him quickly. “But because of this, because of Othello and your love for Shakespeare.” He smiled weakly. “You're very passionate Malik but not in the way you might think you are.”

Malik took a step back, his shoulders rolling and Altair felt triumphantly when he saw how his adam's apple bobbed up and down, almost nervously, when he swallowed thickly. He smiled eventually. “A prism?”, he said and Altair nodded. “I think I like that.”
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