Hey-o! I've decided to take a quick break from editing my Homestuck fanfic, Do the Windy Thing, to bring some AssCreed loveing into my world of published fanfics. I'll be back to editing Windy Thing soon, promise. I just wanted to write a cute little 3 chapter Christmas-y story for the holiday season. Also, I'm playing AssCreed3 now and it's epic. (No spoilers, though, I've only just started.)

Summary: This is a contemporary AU where Desmond asks Shaun to accompany him on a trip from Seattle to LA. Shaun finds himself itching to come out to his roommate and long time friend, but finds a trip of this nature to be inappropriate. Little does he know, Desmond has a secret he's dying to share as well.

I really just wanted to write a bro-trip with some gay. Hope you enjoy. ;D

"Are you sure you want to come?" He stands in the front door, keys in hand and the last bag hanging on his shoulder, "It's a long trip and I don't want to—"

I roll my eyes, "Desmond, my luggage is already in your bloody car, I have a hotel booked in LA and we're running late. Can we just go, already?" I push past Desmond and start trotting down the stairs. He follows slowly and hesitates at the door leaving his apartment complex. "Are you coming or not?" I ask, gesturing out the door.

"I… I feel like I forgot something." He says as he swats his pockets and opens his bag.

I walk over and grab his wrist, "Your phone is in your pocket, you checked your bags twice and you have enough random shit piled into that car to keep an army entertained for weeks. What could you have possibly forgotten?" I hiss.

Desmond's eyes grow wide and he pulls his wrist from your grasp and dashes up the stairs and back into his apartment. With a sigh, I waited by the driver's side of the car.

After a moment, Desmond rushes outside and stands in the doorway again his chest heaving and face flushed. He starts walking towards the car, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Can we stop by a gas station before we leave?" He asks as he tosses me the keys.

I unlock the car and climb in, "We already went and got gas," I say as I start the car.

He fidgets in his seat," I, uh, wanted to go get something from the store." He says.

"Like snacks? What are you six? We have some garbage in the back, anyway." He shakes his head. "Listen, we're already an hour behind schedule. Can it wait until we get to stop for gas in Portland?" He looks uncomfortable but nods.

The drive remains quiet and somewhat uncomfortable. See, Desmond asked me to accompany him on a trip to Los Angeles to visit his parents for the holidays. My family's in England and I decided to save some money and spare myself some embarrassment by staying across the pond for Christmas. Desmond's got a fear of flying, though, so he decides to spend a shit ton of money to rent a car and drive all the way to Los Angeles. Since I had no other plans and driving from Seattle to Los Angeles alone is absolutely nuts, I offered to tag along and drive the first half.

After about thirty minutes of mind numbing silence, Desmond ventures to start conversation. "So why not go home for the holidays?" He asks. He'd been messing around on his phone for most of the drive and he sets it in the middle console and decides to act like a regular human being. My god, it's like this boy is a slave to technology.

"I just love it here so much." I bite back. I didn't mind talking about home to Desmond, but what he doesn't know is that I recently came out to my parents and they weren't all that… keen to the idea. And he still doesn't know that I'm gay. Desmond and I are pretty close and as annoying as I find him, I don't want to jeopardize our relationship with that little detail.

He chuckles at my remark, "But seriously," He says. The feel of the car trip is already less uncomfortable.

I take a moment to arrange an excuse. If I were to ever tell Desmond that I'm gay it certainly wouldn't be on a thousand mile trip to visit his parents for the holidays. "Money's especially tight this year and I can't really afford it right now's all." I say. It's not a lie, either. My mom would have paid for a trip if I asked nicely, though.

"So your plan for Christmas is…"

"To spend what little money I have in a decent hotel on pay per view and watch really bad movies all day." I grin, but it's bittersweet. I'm no stranger to lonely Christmases, so it really makes no difference to me, but it's still a bit sad.

Desmond doesn't respond, so I look at him and he's giving me the are-you-fucking-kidding-me-you-sad-lonely-bastard look. Sad it's so normal. "You should come—"

"No." I say.

"Why not? My parents love you!"

I scoff, "Desmond, it's Christmas. I'm not going to intrude on your family's evening of gifts and god. This is something to bring your ugly girlfriends to." He elbows me and we both laugh.

"There's no way I can convince you?" He says.

"No way."

And that's how it went for the next few hours before we reach Portland. We chat; listen to some of his god-awful music. He even lets me talk about history, which I know that he hates. We manage to avoid any serious arguments before I pull into a gas station in Portland.

I give the gas tenant $50 in cash and turn to Desmond, "Gonna go and get that whatever you want?" I ask.

Desmond looks confused for a moment and then burns red, "Oh, yeah, one minute." He climbs out and scurries to the market. I pull over and park in front to wait for Desmond and he waddles out with a small paper bag and pink tickling his ears and cheeks.

He climbs into the car and shoves the paper bag into his luggage.

"Want to get some food now or wait until we reach Grants Pass?" I ask pulling out of the gas station.

Desmond thinks a moment, "Wanna just stop at some fast food or something in between?"

"Sounds fine to me." And it occurs to me just how oddly domestic how that conversation was. After being roommates since college, one would think that a domestic lifestyle would be the normal way that we would act, but our relationship was something… eccentric. When we're not arguing, we're solving each other's problems. We've been close for a ridiculously long time, so we know each other really well… Well, we know each other well enough. I've got my secrets and he's got his. We know not to ask questions. We're far from… domestic.

We talk a bit more, but there isn't much to say. We listen to some more music—he tries to show me the 'wonders' of dubstep, but it's just rubbish. The conversation died with the sun and by the time it was totally dark out, Desmond was snoring next to me. He woke up a few times in traffic, but never stayed awake too long. It gave me time to listen to my books on tape, so it was a nice break.

I pull into Grants Pass at around 8:30 and navigate around on the rental's shitty GPS until I find our friend Rebecca's house. She graciously offered to let us stay the night. "Here already?" Desmond asks sleepily as I pull in front of Rebecca's two story hulk of a house. It's hard to believe that the 8 hour drive has passed so quickly.

Rebecca is the best off of the original college crew. She makes a living in computer programming and already owns her own house. Normally, I'd be a bit bitterer towards her success (and, yes, my lack thereof) but I'm thankful for a bed that doesn't have a cockroach nest in the mattress. Desmond doesn't mind motels, but I do not want to be sleeping in grease stained hell pits when there's a nice, warm, clean bed waiting not three miles into the more rural area of Grants Pass. Not to mention, I, personally, love spending time with Rebecca.

We arrive and she welcomes us with warm arms, "Des!" She pull Desmond into a tight embrace, "Shaun!" She wraps her lean arms around me and gives my rump a sharp smack which earns her a playful flick and glare. "Put your shit anywhere. I was just started watching cartoons."

"Cartoons?" Desmond laughs as he sets his bag next to the staircase.

Rebecca snorts, "Yeah, you too man for some cartoons?" She challenges.

Desmond flops on the couch next to her, "No I'm game. What're we watching?"

I prod at Rebecca's thick black mop of hair and she turns, "Mind if I score a shower, pet?" I inquire and she nods.

"There should be towels in there. I have some crazy rad conditioner if you wanna use it."

I thank her and slip upstairs to find the bathroom.

The night is lazy. Desmond takes a long shower after me. He thinks that I'm engrossed in my book when he emerges. His damp skin was something close to radiant and all of the time he spent at the gym was really paying off. No, I don't usually fawn over my roommate but lately things have simmered down between Desmond and me. He broke up with his god awful girlfriend and started working at a bar in a fancy hotel. He was suddenly becoming tolerable and that tolerance was fast becoming attraction. Not to mention he looked damn good in a vest.

It's a safely guarded secret, though.

I do my best to ignore him for the rest of the night and he sets himself up on Rebecca's living room. Rebecca and I talk music over some yogurt while Desmond crashes on her couch. His snores erupt through the house and we can't help but giggle. "Jesus Christ, I have to stay in a hotel room with that twat tomorrow." I say letting my head fall into folded arms in shame. Rebecca laughs.

"I offered him the futon, but I think he forgot about it…" She comments, leering over to his sleeping form.

I scoff, "If he's sore and complaining in the morning, I blame you entirely." She punches my arm and we laugh some more.

"So…" There's a knowing tone to her voice and I can't help but bite.

"So, what?"

She scoots closer to me and steals a glance at Desmond in the other room, "So, you sleep with him yet?"

I couldn't help but burst out laughing. Rebecca flails as she tries to cover my mouth. Desmond wakes up instantly and looks around confused. "J-Just go back to sleep, Desmond," I call through some sniggering. He shrugs and sits up before dragging himself into the upstairs room that we were going to share for the night.

As soon as we hear the door shut, Rebecca is on me again, "So, did you?" She whispers.

"Love, he doesn't even know I'm gay. And look at him! He's straighter than an arrow."

She looks confused for a moment, "But I thought you were going on a trip to see his parents. Ya'know, that weird couple ritual of Christmas awkwardness."

I glare, "I'm just helping him make it on this god-awful trip. I'm staying at a hotel down there, anyway."

"Oh you poor boy!" Rebecca feigns sympathy and snorts as she giggles.

I glare, "Rebecca, we're friends. I'd rather not jeopardize that with something as trivial as—"

"Trivial?" Becca sounds offended somehow.

"Yes. Trivial. And I don't think it's worth—"

"Your sexuality isn't 'trivial.'" She stands, "Seriously, Shaun. If you really care about your relationship with Desmond, you wouldn't keep something like this from him. This isn't just some ordinary secret. This isn't 'I-collected-ceramic-cats-until-I-was-eighteen' or 'I-don't-actually-like-papaya' status. Shaun, this is serious." She takes my empty mug from me, "Now, I'm not saying drop the bomb on him right now, but the longer you keep this from him, the harder it's going to be to tell him." She walks into the kitchen and I trail behind her slowly. "Do you love him?"

I cough and sputter at the ludicrous idea, "Heaven's no!" I nearly shriek.

"Do you want to fuck him?" She's washing the mugs now. She doesn't even bother to look at me. She could tell I was blushing.

"Well, who doesn't?"

She drops the mugs in soapy water and dries her hands on a dish rag, "Listen, I tell you this because I am the ultimate fag hag—"

"Are not, twat."

"—if you want this friendship with Desmond to last, don't build it on a foundation of lies. 'Kay?"

I sigh, "Yes, miss Halmark card." She rolls her eyes and turns back to the dishes.

"You should get some rest. Long day of driving tomorrow." She turns and flicks some water at me with a lovely little smirk tainting her lips. I scoff and head upstairs.

We depart from Grants Pass around eight in the morning. Desmond took the wheel this time. Rebecca lends me a lovely ceramic travel mug with some much needed earl grey and Desmond picks up some coffee from Starbucks before we get on the highway.

"I love this part of Oregon." He says. "The fog. The trees. It's pretty amazing."

I roll my eyes, "It's just nature, love." I say, glancing out the window. We are just about to Ashland, which, frankly, was one of my favorite towns. It's so charming and the people there are so entertaining. It was honestly a treat to make fun of the wannabe theater snobs. I mean, I'm a fan of Shakespeare, but really, Romeo and Juliet is not by any means a great show. I don't care how many of the lines you can quote. I could walk onto any plaza in that town and say "Shakespeare is overrated" and be practically tackled by all sorts of people. "Directors," "Actors," students, teachers—really, it was lovely.

We don't stop even though I wanted to. I don't admit that I understand; I just stay mad at Desmond for a little while.

We pull over after we get to California. We check out some rest stops for Desmond to admire the trees. Stop for food. Gas. More music, car naps, smartphones, and a little tangent into the world of ancient Greece (Because Desmond is a wanker that doesn't know a thing about the fascinating culture of ancient Greece.)

"Oh, stop looking at me like we're discussing… porn preferences or something! It was normal at the time."

"I'm just surprised."

"I guess that would be a normal reaction. But men having sex with men is not such an uncommon thing, you know." Fuck. Let that just slip out. I flush and stare out the window. "Ya'know. In ancient Greece."

There is a pause, "Well… here too." And it's little quips like that, that confuse me. Is he messing with me? Does he know that I'm gay and he's just being passive aggressive about it?

Does he want me?

My blush deepens and we're submerged in an incredibly uncomfortable silence. I would tell him now, but it's just not right. The timing is the worst it could ever be, really.

Soon it's dark out and we're nearly in Sacramento. I pull out google maps and navigate us through the city to our hotel. We make it there by 8:30.

We checked in and climbed up to our room. It was absolute rubbish, but it would work. Two twin beds and a small bathroom. Whatever. Desmond allows me the first shower and I try not to take my time. I flop on the twin bed in some pajama pants and just lay for a moment. Desmond smacks my arse in a strangely gay way. When I give him a confused look he just laughs. Another moment of confusion. They're becoming more frequent recently.

Desmond takes a shower next and I lay in my bed. I accidently let my mind wander into dangerous territory. Wanting territory. I did my best to ignore how much I ached for another man's touch. I hated myself for wanting Desmond specifically.

He emerged from the shower and sat on the edge of his bed clad in dark blue briefs that clung to his muscular thighs like they were painted on. Dear Lord how I would love to ravish that body. He looks over at me and I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Hey, Shaun, you awake?" He asks. I remain silent. He sighs and I can hear him shifting around in his bed, "Hey, I know you can't hear me, but I just wanted to thank you for coming with me on this trip. It… It means a lot to me." He flicks off the light and I'm left to ponder the strange sentiment in the darkness of a shitty motel.