Believe it or not, it's an AltMal fanfic (YUUUS) and this story was completely inspired by lanimalu's fanart with the same title 'Rain in Jerusalem, pt.2'. I'm glad I was able to finish it because I've been leaving a lot of my stories hanging for quite a while, and fortunately, this wasn't one of them! This is dedicated to my greatest inspiration, Natascha, who continues to motivate me to write through her fantastic artworks. Thank you so much. Please do continue drawing, you'll always have my support.

The rain started to fall, at first a tolerable shower, which then quickly picked up to a heavy downpour. Altaïr walked on without a care, not bothering to seek for dry shelter. The assassin's clothes were getting heavier and heavier with each absorption of raindrop from the heavens. His steps slowed to a halt. The city was draped in darkness and stars were nowhere to be seen in the night sky. He raised his head slightly to let the rain slide down his face, giving him a sense of refreshment and relief. Relief to be finally back in Jerusalem. Relief to finally be able to see Malik once again.
The thought of it pushed him to continue walking despite the burden of having to bear the weight of his clothes that dragged him down. His hood stuck to his face as he hoisted himself with the rod that was connected to the building and deftly landed on the roof. He was tired and hungry, and he hoped that Malik would welcome his guest and allow him to stay for the night. And maybe even offer him some food, that would be wonderful.

After arranging the books and scrolls on his shelves, Malik moved on to stack all his important documents in a neat pile. He cleared out everything on the counter except for the report he was working on when he felt a presence nearby, just outside his bureau. He swore he heard something like feet being dragged across the pavement, but he thought that he was probably just tired and perhaps hallucination was a result of his fatigue. He preferred to stay and not check because also, he was too lazy to move from where he was standing anyway.
As he finished up his report, he heard a sound similar to that of dripping water. Malik paused. It was raining outside, no doubt. Why should he be alarmed? Yet, it was too close… too close that his ears could hear the slightest detail of it…
Drip, drip.
A figure stepped inside the room as quietly as it could but the shuffling of feet could not go unheard. It hid itself in the shadows, though Malik knew who it was because the outline of its body was obviously familiar to him.
"Altaïr… what are you doing here?" he asked, pretending not to sound as if he cared.
Altaïr took a step forward, revealing himself before Malik. His clothes clung to his body in a suggestive manner, his top hugging his chest and defining his toned muscles underneath. It was terribly noticeable, but Malik shooed the thought away. Now was not the time to entertain such things!
"May I stay for a while?"
Of course he would ask, Malik thought to himself. He looked at Altaïr from head to toe and wrinkled his eyebrows.
"You're soaking wet. I don't want you here roaming around in that getup."
Altaïr frowned. "At least by the entrance?"
Clearly, Malik had no choice. If he forced Altaïr to leave now, the assassin would have no place to stay, and he wouldn't be able to travel properly in this weather. But if he welcomed him inside, then his efforts of cleaning his entire bureau would all go to waste, simply because of a dripping wet assassin. But then again, what did he care about Altaïr venturing into the storm?
Malik sighed. He had a conscience, and he ought to put it to good use. "…fine."
Altaïr sat down and leaned against the doorframe, grateful. He lifted his shirt and was about to toss it aside when Malik cleared his throat, breaking the silence. He glanced at him and Malik pointed at the wet shirt in Altaïr's hand with his feather pen. A smile played on Altaïr's lips and dropped the cloth halfway before catching it again, teasing the bureau leader.
"Don't you even dare…"
Altaïr shrugged and placed it right outside the entrance. He sat there for a moment when Malik threw a towel right at him, slapping his cheek.
"Dry yourself," he muttered and attended to his report again. He tried to focus on what he was writing, but he couldn't help but cast a quick glance at Altaïr every now and then who was dabbing the towel on his face. Next, he moved on to dry his upper torso, wiping out the remains of moisture and dampening the towel with it. Malik didn't realize he was already staring when Altaïr caught his gaze while he avoided it, swiftly looking in another direction. He could feel his face heat up at the awkwardness of the situation.
"Heads up."
Malik turned and suddenly caught the towel that Altaïr threw at him just in time before it hit the counter top. He cursed under his breath and held it in between his forefinger and thumb in disgust.
"Mind where you throw," he said in an irritated tone of voice as he put the towel aside.
"Mind where you look at," Altaïr retorted, causing Malik to swallow.
Altaïr stood from his place and walked towards the counter, his hair still soaked with rainwater. Malik eyed him questioningly while Altaïr rested his elbow on top and his chin on the palm of his hand. He looked at Malik with a seductive smirk plastered on his face.
"Do you know why I came to Jerusalem?" He used his other hand to trace the wooden cracks on the counter top. Malik rolled his eyes.
"Do you think I care? Go on, the rain has already stopped. You can leave." He addressed Altaïr and reached his hand out towards the exit of the bureau but Altaïr took hold of it instead.
"I came to visit you," he murmured and kissed Malik's fingers softly, sending shivers down his spine. He held it close to his cheek and sighed.
"Altaïr…"
Without warning, Malik was pulled forward, his face inches away from Altaïr's. They locked eyes for a minute when Altaïr leaned in towards Malik. He breathed on his neck, a tingling sensation that Malik could not bear. His heart was beating fast and his breathing uneven, and he hoped Altaïr didn't notice.
On the other hand, Altaïr knew, felt Malik's pulse increase on the inside of his wrist. He nipped at the flesh of his neck, earning a moan from Malik. Altaïr pulled away and looked straight into his eyes, lustful and overcome with the desire to touch and be touched.
"Malik, I—"
He was interrupted by a sudden kiss from Malik, further feeding that overwhelming desire which consumed Altaïr. Both assassins kissed passionately, tongues meeting and sliding past each other. After a few seconds, they slowly let go, lips slightly parted and pants audible.
"…I'm hungry," Altaïr blurted.
"…wasn't that enough?" Malik blushed as he asked his question, bringing his fingers to his mouth. Altaïr merely chuckled.
"I meant, food."
"I'll get you something to eat then," Malik said while he searched his pantry for something edible. He fished out a prepared turkey sandwich and handed it over to the hungry assassin. "Dig in."
He went to fetch a glass of water when two hands stopped him. He faced Altaïr and was completely aware of the proximity between them. And god, seeing that perfect, bare chest up close and the six-pack abs he's been maintaining for the past few months… wow. Malik had tried working out and gaining some abs, but it was difficult for him to have to exercise daily with only one arm. Eventually, he gave up on that dream. If it was a dream. But Altaïr…
Cautiously, Malik reached out to feel his chest, stroking every part of his skin and relishing the warmth he was emitting. Altaïr held his wrist and smiled.
"We can continue this later. Now, can I eat?"
Malik sighed and dropped his arm. "Alright."
Altaïr gave him a quick kiss and winked mischievously. "Promise, later. Just let me devour this and we can proceed from where we last stopped."

I really like what I've written, and I hope you guys do too. It took me days to write this and I'm happy it turned out how I wanted it to be! hehe. Reviews are much appreciated!