My name is Syb and I'm weak for poly fics.
There's not much else to be said about this.
Slight AU I guess? Aside from protag/reader being a character, I mean. This takes place after the first game is completed!
Title is actually from "Mad as Rabbits" by Panic! atd bc I can't get enough trash. I just love it.
I don't think there's anything to be warned about? Mentions of fighting, maybe? Just wanna cover all my bases.
Hope ya have a good day!
Also! ! I take requests!
You're still not quite sure how you made this mess work. How a civilian from the 2000's could end up with the now Grand Master Altaïr and his most trusted advisor Malik. Of course, everyone else is under the assumption you're just their bodyguard, but hey. It's actually rather ironic, considering it was Altaïr himself who taught you how to be a proper assassin (begrudgingly).
You're very happy like this though, even when they're forced to act a certain way in front of others. Altaïr especially has to be cold and calculating, has to work to gain back the reputation of our Brotherhood after the betrayal.
You know the real Altaïr though, the one that likes making bets over the most ridiculous stuff and irritating his loved ones. Malik is the easiest to get a rise out of, and on more than one occasion you've come home to find them fist fighting. Even with one arm Malik can kick ass.
It depends on your mood whether you'll let them continue or yell until they stop out of shame. Very rarely you'll break them up with kisses, which they both seem to prefer.
They're both absolutely ridiculous and you love them too much. More than words can describe.
Yes, you have no idea how it ended up like this, but you're damn grateful for it.
Especially when Malik makes some excuse to stay behind after one of Altaïr's dreadfully long meetings. Being the body guard you have to stay standing behind him near constantly, and usually completely silent. Malik makes a point of chatting with you when he can but 'keeping up appearances' and all that limits your interactions.
But once all those stuffy political assassins (which is a phrase you are still honestly perplexed by) are gone, you can relax. You practically melt into Altaïr's lap, snuggling as close as possible. "I hate standing up." You tell him.
He scoffs, "No, you don't. You hate meetings."
Malik pulls your chair farther out and sits down on the table in front of the two of you, stretching out leisurely. "So do I. If I never see any of those politicians again it will be too much." He agrees.
"Same." You sigh, switching into English. You're not allowed to talk like this in public unless you're trading. It attracts a lot of attention among civilians. You tap Altaïr's chest, and say, "Hey."
He just sighs.
"Hey." You repeat, more forcefully.
His lips twitch, but he does not respond.
"Hey." You bite down on your lip with irritation.
Apparently third time's the charm, because he breaks and asks, "What?"
Now smiling, you order, "Kiss me."
He tilts his head, your favorite smirk appearing. "And why should I? I'm the boss, remember?" He teases you.
Malik snorts, and you just roll your eyes. "Because you love me." You tell him before pressing a feather light kiss to his lips. "And I put up with you."
"Put up with me?" Altaïr acts offended, eyes narrowing. "You act as if my presence is not a gift." He goes on, raising his voice over Malik's laughter.
"Altaïrrrr." You groan melodramatically, pouting. "Come on."
The assassin rolls his golden eyes, "Your begging needs work." Tilting your face up, he doesn't wait for you to come up with a sassy remark before kissing you. You respond eagerly in response, feverishly grabbing at his robes to get him as close as possible.
Your breath is just a tiny bit uneven when you pull away, instead burying your face in the crook of his neck. "Malik." You say, your voice distorted by the cloth.
"Hm?" He replies airily. You can't be sure from your position, but you'd bet he's smirking.
"You're really cute." You state. "And you should also kiss me."
"Perhaps when we get home." He answers. You hear him shift and then there are hands on your sides, just a little too lingering to be casual. You're not sure if you want to press closer to Altaïr or lean back (which, you might add, is a pretty common dilemma in your household). You whine when he pulls you off Altaïr, and he laughs, "I thought you wanted kisses?"
"You gonna carry me?" You hmph, crossing your arms over your chest. You send Altaïr a long suffering frown and he nods in understanding.
"Malik." He says, using his Grand Master voice. "You're right."
"Hey!" You yelp indigently. "You were supposed to take my side!"
His smirk is enough forewarning for you to have your eyes already narrowed when he says, "That is also for when we're home, my love."
Altaïr, no.
"Because we're so professional," You scoff.
Malik's laughter is loud enough to warrant a hand pressed against his mouth and half hearted glares from both his lovers. Goodness knows what kind of convoluted story would emerge from someone finding two of you nearly on the floor while Altaïr watches on with that infuriating look on his face.
"You're both horrible." You primly pull yourself together, brushing invisible dirt off your pristine robes and fixing the bright red sash on your waist. The sash you worked so hard to obtain, both because its a means to stay with your boyfriends and also just to prove you can do it.
You feel their eyes on you while you do this, and in glancing up you find them with nearly identical starry eyed expressions. You feel your heart flip when you return a smile, holding out your hands. "Come on."
Malik complies easily (for once), but Altaïr makes you practically fall backwards to pull him up out of his chair. Malik can't really help either, considering you have his hand clutched in yours.
When you finally get the both of them out, you have to drop their hands and fall back, your shoulders squared determinedly. Work mode. Malik pecks your cheek before following suit and Altaïr just sighs.
Your trio almost makes it to your rooms before some poor neophyte tries to chat up Altaïr, asking about some mission or another. It's late, too late for your eagle to be cordial with anyone but yourself and Malik, and the only thing keeping you from intervening is Malik.
The poor kid looks terrified! You want to say. Granted, given how Altaïr is normally, your think even the newbies would know not to just approach. Especially considering the time makes it very obvious he's heading to bed.
Kids these days.
Malik inclines his head toward the Grand suite, mouthing "food."
It pains you to admit that's probably the best plan. You nod in agreement before slipping away.
Altaïr noticed your departure, you're sure, but he still looks pleasantly surprised when you greet him with tea and cookies (you made the cookies a few days ago actually, but they're still pretty damn good if you do say so yourself).
Malik joins your duo after a few more minutes, obviously waiting for the coast to be clear. He has his own room after all, and while its easy to explain why you would stay with Altaïr, it would be tricky for Malik to do the same. He doesn't have the bodyguard excuse.
You curl up next to him when he settles down, and Altaïr joins the two of you after you ask him nicely (or, as nice as you can while waiting for him to suck up his pride and join the cuddle puddle). He likes to act as if he's not as "needy" as you and Malik, which you think is hilarious.
It takes you a while to find a comfortable position for all three of you, and in the end you're not sure who's hands are where, but you're happy. You let out a pleased hum when everyone's settled down, murmuring, "I love you."
"I love you." Altaïr's and Malik's answers overlap, one in English and the other in Arabic.
You wouldn't have it any other way.