Malik x Altair
Summary: Altair, Malik, and Kadar though they could establish the perfect life with a little work. Their dream would not last long with Altair behind the wheel. With all hopes shattered, can Altair re-invent the passion between Malik and himself? Modern AU
Rated M
-Mature/Sexual themes
-Strong language
-Violent/Graphic descriptions
"Hault! Assassin! Men, go after the assassin!" a guard yelled and ushered his fellow soldiers to join him in the rushing chase after the white-clad man. Several uniformed men that were lingering in the area scuffled into a sprint at the call of their duty.
"Shit!" Altair cursed under his breath. He was steps away to the building were the assassin's bureau was when he had been spotted. It seems the Eagle of Masyaf was growing popular now that the guards of Jerusalem could spy him easily. He growled in annoyance. He was already tired enough, and now he would have to deal with screaming guards that were forming around him in a circle; their weapons drawn and ready to work. Curious faces stared at the ruckus with murmurs to one another about the occurrence.
"It's the assassin!" one woman yelled.
"Kill him!" another one shouted.
"Tear their heads off, assassin!" a rebellious man howled.
The assassin kept quiet and unsheathed his blade from its holster and turned smoothly, slowly on his heels keenly and smug. He faced the guard that had initially called him out and the man braced himself. Altair could wait for an attack. Once the man jump forward with his blade thrusted out, Altair simply leaned to the side to dodge his blade and pushed up his own sword into the abdomen of the unfortunate soldier. The man fell limp in a pool of blood and let out a final breath in a croak. The other men around Altair seemed to show no fear, but he could see in their eyes that they were terrified. Altair wondered kind of rumors the guards had heard about himself. The crowed gasped and quickly realized the intensity of the situation and decided it was time to go. Anxiety to move swept through the people and woman and men scream and ran in different directions to evacuate the area. The guards remained to imply vigilance.
"You'll pay, assassin!" another plucky man shouted in a shaky voice, but raised his sword in a firm hand. He charged in a battle cry at the assassin.
For a moment, Altair admired the guard's courage. But in the next moment, the man was silence with iron in between his shoulder blade. He fell first to his knees, and with a kick back, he fell on his side and the sword came out with blood spurts and a similar sound to metal scraped against metal; only with this, it was flesh.
One of the remaining two soldiers shouted suddenly and turned to run for his life, dropping his sword in the process and tripping over his own feet, but still managing to turn the corner and disappear from the battle. The other was intimidated, but was determined to do his job and attempt to kill the assassin.
"I know about you, infidel. You shall die here!" a thick Arabic accent announced. Altair stood still. He didn't care to heed his words. The soldiers were just talk and no action to him. And talk is cheap.
The guard closed his eyes. Hope had left him; he knew he was the one to die. But he wasn't going without a fight. In a dimwitted desperation, the guard strongly gripped onto his blade and flailed wildly about. His intentions were to get any kind of lucky shot he could. Altair was taken back a few steps closer to the building behind him in surprise and also to dodge the poorly strategized swings. He also wanted to hurry up so he could reach his goal of the bureau; more specifically the comfort within it.
The assassin carefully looked for an opening and found an opportunity to seize the man's wrist. With the proper placement of the blade and a violent tug forward, the guard was pulled through iron in a fatal blow to the heart. A small, dying, throaty moan escaped the mouth that was now pouring blood down his chin. Altair tugged the sword free from its fleshy holster and wiped it clean on his tarnished, blood-stained robes. The assassin placed his blade back into its home at his side. He sighed.
'Great. Now my robes are completely ruined.'
Altair approached the building that held the assassin's bureau. The assassin looked up to inspect what path he could climb to get to the roof. Eyeing a way with stuck-out bricks and a window, he stepped back a bit to get a running start. Altair tugged his hood forward so his eyes could be covered in shadows. A short sprint at the wall allowed the momentum to run up and clutch onto a brick. His body swung a bit from side to side. He kicked off the stone below him to jump up to reach the window sill. From there, he could do the same move and reach the roof.
Sighing in a sort of relief, Altair went to the entrance, kneeled before it, and lowered himself inside. He released his grip on the skylight and landed with a 'thud'.
"Haah," he scoffed, "Finally." Altair gingerly walked over to the pile of colorful pillows in the corner of the room. He removed his loyal blade and other belts containing his equipment and weaponry. Altair flopped down onto the plush mountain of adorned pillows, pushed back his hood, and threw his head back, enjoying the comfort it brought to his aching limbs.
"Altair?" an accented voice rang out questioning the cause of the noise. Altair was too tired to respond. He figured Malik would interpret the silence as a 'yes'.
"Altair." Malik stated, wanted some kind of reply.
"What is it? I'm not getting up if that's it." Altair called out and turned onto his side. He felt as if he could pass out any second and his eye lids felt heavy. It was easiest just to shut them.
"Altair, get up!" Malik asserted, annoyed.
"Not going to happen." Altair furrowed his brow, beginning to think he should have just slept on the streets with the hostile guards ready to kill him.
"Goddamnit, Altair! You're going to be late for work!"
Malik rocked Altair back and forth on the twin bed of shook him from his dreaming, abruptly making him spiral back into reality. Altair clutched onto his blanket.
"Alright, alright. I'm up." he said softly and sleepily. Altair used his arms to support his torso so he could sit up to look over to the night stand where a digital clock illuminated bright red numbers that red '7:25'.
"Come on. I made breakfast for you and Kadar. That is, if he ever gets his nose out of those medical books of his." Malik sighed, turning to walk out of the room and into the small dining and kitchen area of their apartment.
Begrudgingly, Altair flung his legs over the side of the bed and hoisted himself onto his feet. He stretched his arms above his head and his chest muscles flexed. He let out a short-lived laugh.
"Man, that'd be so cool if I was an assassin." he smiled, abandoning the warmth of his bed and entering into the off white walls of their third floor apartment dining area. Instantaneously, the scent of cooking bacon and coffee hit him on the first step out of his door.
Kadar was already at the breakfast table, his attention already fixated on studying his books. Altair fixed his sagging sweatpants and spun back into a chair at the circular white plastic dining table that was off to the side of the kitchen.
"You're still reading those books? Why don't you take a break for once, Kadar? By this rate, you'll be brain-dead." Altair joked.
"I can't. I gotta know this stuff for med school today. If I pass this test, then I'll finally graduate!" he said excitedly. Altair noticed the dark bags beneath Kadar's bloodshot eyes.
"Did you even get to sleep last night?" Altair asked, concerned.
"Don't worry, I'm fine. Tonight, I'll get the best night of sleep I'll ever have." he said, placing the book to the side and marked his page.
Malik walked out of the kitchen with his hands full with a tray of three plates of food and drinks. A plate adorned with eggs and bacon and a cup filled with orange juice were laid before him and to the other man on the opposite side of the table as well.
"Man, Malik, this is great!" Altair said happily, helping himself to the food. "What's the occasion?"
"You could at least get a shirt on." Malik sighed, taking a seat.
"You know you like it." Altair smirked slyly, opening his arms to allow for easy inspection.
"You're so stupid." Malik chuckled and looked down briefly to hide his flushed cheeks. He returned his gaze to his brother. "And it's for Kadar's last day of med school."
"Well, to Kadar." Altair said, his voice muffled with food. He raised his glass of orange juice to offer a toast. "The best of luck to Dr. Asayf."
His roommates obliged and knocked the cups against one another. Altair mindlessly glanced over to the clock and saw it was time to go.
"Aw, man." he huffed.
He put his fork on his plate and pushed back his chair. Getting up, he carried it to the kitchen and placed the dish in the sink. He quickly walked to his room and stripped himself of his pants and dressed himself into his work pants. He went over to the dresser at the foot of his creaky bed and opened the middle draw to get his white Mason Workers Incorporated collar shirt. He made a quick trip to the bathroom to ruffle up his auburn hair until it reached the style he was satisfied with.
"I'm off." he called, walking to the front door and sitting on the raised floor in front of it to put on his brown boots.
"Altair, we're going to the beach when I'm back from school and you get are back from work. You should come." Kadar called.
"Sounds great, but it'll be dark by the time we get there." Altair said.
"That's why. We're going to camp out there." Malik said, getting up from his seat and walking over so he stood next to Altair. He leaned on the wall casually and crossed his arms. He crossed his right leg and tucked it behind his left.
"Alright then, see you guys tonight then." Altair smiled, looking forward to their mini-vacation. He turned and reached for the door knob.
"Altair." Malik's voice sounded almost as if he was singing, but it wasn't intentional. Altair gripped the knob, but looked back into those dark eyes of Malik's. Malik smirked. "Have a good day."