Wrap You Around Me – Sean Kingston
Being an assassin was no easy task.
Any person with even an ounce of intelligence could guess that, but it was a matter of understanding. Altair often found himself exhausted and injured to the point where his bones ached and his mind grew weary, almost unable to perform even the simplest of tasks. He rarely found a moment's reprieve, but when he did, it was the sweetest, simplest pleasure of his life.
Those nights in the bureau with Malik were the best nights of his existence and he wouldn't trade them for the world. On those rare but wonderful nights, he indulged in his one-armed companion and nothing else. The whole world outside of him could have been on fire and wouldn't have even known, let alone cared. Malik was what mattered.
Malik, Malik, Malik. It was a mantra in his head, a sweet reminder of what was waiting for him in Jerusalem, something to soothe his aches and ease his mind. Malik always wore the same warm smile with him, looked at him with the same loving brown eyes, talked to him with the same soothing voice. And he would never tire of it. Altair loved Malik with every fiber of his being and on some days, he could only hope the feeling was returned.
But on the nights when the two laid together, buried in the soft blankets and fluffy pillows of the bureau without a care in the world, he knew how much Malik loved him. The Dai would always hold his younger lover as close as possible, laying light, gentle kisses on his face and returning the ones he received. He caressed Altair's skin and buried his nose in his short brown hair, content just to lie with him. The words whispered in the moonlight were loving and meaningful; everything they couldn't say to each other when they were separate.
"I missed you," Malik would murmur, pressing a kiss to Altair's forehead and wrapping his arm around his waist.
"I missed you, too," was the quiet, honest response.
Their lips and hands would roam their bodies in gentle, feather-light touches as quiet moans and breathy gasps escaped their mouths. Then, they would make love, soft and slow and sweet, bathed in the silvery-blue moonlight that illuminated their faces. Wrapped warmly in Malik's loving embrace, Altair could rest easy for the night.
Her Diamonds – Rob Thomas
It happened every now and again. No matter how many times Malik said that he'd accepted Kadar's death, Altair knew that, even now, almost a decade later, the Dai still grieved and mourned for his brother. He had only rarely seen Malik shed tears, let alone sob, but when he had, it was because of the searing loss of his baby brother. Altair understood this, and usually let the man be.
It wasn't his place to pry, or even comfort, considering that it was his mistakes, his insolence, his arrogance that caused Kadar's death. Whether Malik approved or not, this was how the master assassin felt, and that wouldn't change.
Yes, Malik had hated him for an unbearably long time. Had hated him, loathed him, blamed him, but Altair changed, and Malik acknowledged this and appreciated it for what it was. A silent apology, a humble request for forgiveness, even though it was never expected.
But Malik did forgive him, making Altair's spirits soar and heart lighten. The two had grown close again; to them, it was like growing up a second time, reliving the carefree lives of their youths. But something changed between them as well, and they learned to love each other as, well, lovers would. And they were inexplicably happy that way.
Even though they had lived many wonderful years together, Altair still felt occasional waves of guilt wash over him—when he closely examined what used to be Malik's left arm, during moments like these when the Dai was crying for his long lost brother. Usually Malik reprimanded those waves of guilt and, with a simple kiss and whisper of, "It's alright," Altair was able to forget, if only for a moment. But now, now things were so much worse. It didn't happen often, but sometimes, he couldn't help himself.
Malik perched on the roof of the bureau, the clear night sky laid out before him. It was cloudless and the moon was full, casting its luminescent glow on the earth below. There was even a gentle breeze sifting through the air to contradict the heat of the night. It was, overall, a pleasant evening. But Malik still sobbed uncontrollably, staring up at the star-dotted skies.
Kadar used to love stars.
Tears streamed down Malik's face unchecked and he did nothing to stifle his cries of sorrow. Hand clutching at his chest uselessly, he squeezed his eyes shut and curled in on himself. Altair stood not even three feet behind him, unnoticed thus far.
Allah knows he wanted to comfort the Dai, wanted to kneel before him and wrap his arms around his neck and allow him to cry on his shoulder, because Malik had done it enough for him. But he was afraid. He was afraid that Malik would push him away, scream at him for taking away his brother, afraid that Malik would learn to hate him yet again.
And could the guilt welling in his chest hurt any worse?
In his own moment of weakness, Altair let out a broken sob, alerting Malik to his presence. "Altair…" he said, his voice cracking. The master assassin sniffed and tried to regain his composure, if only for Malik's sake, but ended up crumbling beneath the weight of his guilt. Their eyes met and the one-armed man lifted his only arm in invitation, and Altair all but jumped into his embrace.
He tried to conceal his tears but knew he was unsuccessful, so he wept alongside Malik and they held onto each other for support. They cried for Kadar, they cried for themselves, they cried for their future. They would be alright, but tonight, they would mourn.
I Get Lonely Too – Drake
Malik was left by himself far too often, Altair decided. With the master assassin away hunting his targets, Malik was left by his lonesome in the bureau. He often complained about how annoying Altair was, and how noisy and distracting and stupid he was, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss him when he was gone, and they both knew that.
Sure, the occasional assassin would drop by and pay him a visit when they passed through Jerusalem, easing his loneliness for a while. He enjoyed these visits, for they brought back fond memories from his days as a novice and gave the chance to chat with old friends.
However, the visits never lasted as long as he'd like them to and he was left alone again. Besides, while he enjoyed and cherished the opportunity to catch up with pals from his youth, none of them could satisfy him the way Altair did. But, Malik supposed, his seemingly endless days of pining made Altair's homecoming just that much more special. No, nothing compared to the feeling he got when his younger lover returned home. Speaking of which…
"Safety and peace, brother."
Looking up from the map he was currently working on, Malik let a smile overcome his usually stoic demeanor. "Altair," he said in a pleased tone, "I expect things went well?" The master assassin produced a bloody feather and even smirked proudly.
"Easy," he dismissed.
Malik plucked it from his fingers and set it on the counter. He reached out with his one arm and cupped Altair's stubbly cheek, pulling him forward to lean over the counter and place a chaste kiss on his lips. Altair eagerly returned the kiss and hummed with contentment. Already, he could feel his tense muscles releasing and his adrenaline level drop from just that one kiss.
"Miss me?" he asked smugly, already knowing the answer.
"Actually, I quite enjoyed the peace and quiet while you were gone. Now that you're back, I suppose that you'll only prove to be a nuisance."
Altair could have pointed out that Malik's dull eyes seemed to brighten in his presence and that he was certainly eager for a kiss, but he kept his peace. He didn't think it would start an argument, but he could at least let the man keep his pride. Until they got into bed, that is. He really couldn't talk though; Allah knows what embarrassing things he says (read: screams) during their passionate lovemaking.
"I sent you a carrier pigeon last week. Why didn't you respond?"
"I did not think it was necessary. I knew you would be home soon."
"I almost thought that you forgot about me."
Malik snorted, "As if I could forget you," as he leaned in for another quick kiss. Altair smiled and placed his hands on top of the counter, holding him in place as he leaned forward to press his nose against Malik's in what would later be called an Eskimo kiss.
"I got lonely, you know," he whispered. "I thought about you all the time. I wondered what you were doing, how you felt, if you were thinking about me."
"Rest assured, I was." Another kiss passed between them. "I get lonely, too."
Why – Secondhand Serenade
He couldn't move. He couldn't call out, he couldn't beg him not to leave, he couldn't breathe. The only man he'd ever trusted and loved was just walking out on him, leaving him for some Templar bitch!
Maria Thorpe. The name burned on his tongue and started a white-hot, seething anger in the pit of his stomach. What did Altair see in her? She was nothing! She could not satisfy him the way he did! But he couldn't provide to him what she could—children, the continuation of his bloodline.
Malik couldn't give that to him, but he could do so much more! He could protect Altair, provide for him anything he wished, make him happy, love him! But Altair chose her over him. Malik knew that the master assassin wanted to have children someday, but he had hoped that he would be able to convince him otherwise. But he couldn't. Despite his best efforts, his pleas for Altair to stay with him, the golden-eyed man just turned his back on him and left.
Tears blurred his vision and spilled over his eyes, soaking his cheeks and falling onto the counter in front of him. Sobs tore from his throat almost painfully as he doubled over in misery. Why? Altair had promised him nothing would ever change between them. He'd said that they would always be together, that he would always love him. But what about now? If his words had rang true then he wouldn't be leaving for her. Malik wouldn't be weeping helplessly, pining for someone that he knew he would never have again.
He should've known better. The second Altair had started to show signs of attraction he should've turned his back and fought it off. It would've been better for him in the long run. Maybe he'd known all along that it wouldn't last. Maybe Altair had known it, too, and had just been stringing him along.
Maybe Malik had let him.
He knew that he couldn't resist Altair's pleas for attention and his requests for love and affection. The way those golden hues looked at him adoringly was to die for. Altair's kisses and hugs were heavenly and Allah knows he would kill for just one more. But now, now those memories would only haunt him, hurt him.
Letting out a wordless scream, Malik sunk onto the floor behind the counter, leaning against it for support. The tears were still coming in abundance and it didn't appear that they would stop anytime soon.
He should hate Altair, he knows. He's got more than enough reasons to already, and this was just the icing on the cake. Even though he'd broken his heart, Malik knew that he would always have a weakness for him, no matter what.
Frowning bitterly, Malik wondered if the bastard even cared. He wondered if he even thought about how much this would affect him, or if he would ever think about him during his life with her. He doubted it. At this point, he prayed he didn't. It would only mean more heartache for him. Why do you do this to me, Altair?
'I love you, Malik.'
'I love you, too, Altair.'
'I always will, you know. I'll be here with you forever.'
'Good. I wouldn't want it any other way.'
A/N: Just a little bunch of drabbles inspired by music. I could do more, but only if you want me to. :) If you want me to, I'll even write one based on a song of your choice! Just send me a message. ;)
Hope you enjoyed and leave a review if you wish.