There was obviously something very wrong with his luck, thought Desmond as he, for the umpteenth time, was stopped from being alone with a certain Shaun Hastings.

He was barely aware of Lucy's voice as she kept on talking about something he couldn't quite understand- his attention was focused on the copper-haired male in the hopes that he could catch his gaze and indicate he wanted to speak with him in private. However, the soon-to-be-assassin's hopes were quickly crushed as the British male left the room with a rather annoyed expression on his face. Well, more annoyed than usual. Or.. well. That wasn't quite right, either. The historian only seemed to be ticked off whenever Desmond was involved. At that, Desmond felt a pang of sadness that crumbled his already weak resolve.

The problem had started early this morning when Rebecca had announced with obvious excitement that today was Valentine's day. This normally wouldn't have bothered Desmond, simply because of the fact that he never really had anybody he wanted to spend the day with. But, because of his growing- against his will, might he add- attraction to Shaun, he found himself with the urge to actually do something for him. W-Which was stupid, because Desmond was sure that any of the feelings he had toward the other man were one-sided and Shaun would probably just mock him and sneer and make Desmond feel like an /idiot/. Even so.. it wouldn't hurt to try. Or, it would, but Desmond found that the tiniest chance of Shaun /not/ being an asshole was good enough for him to work up the courage to buy him a gold chain.

I-It seemed like a good idea at the time, and it was certainly better than his first two ideas, which consisted of him writing a sappy love-letter that would make a teenage girl proud and buying him a box of chocolates.

As Desmond felt the bulge his back pocket- the small, black box that contained the necklace- he was entirely grateful to the masculinity that made him choose to get the jewelry.

A slender hand waving in front of his face, followed by an "earth to Desmond", brought him out of his thoughts and he gave the girl an apologetic smile, excused himself, and exited in the direction Shaun had gone.

Unknown to him, after he had left the room, Lucy and Rebecca shared smug, knowing smiles.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for Desmond to find the Brit- said man was halfway into his room when the brunette had halted him with a breathless call of his name. The historian had then turned to him with an expression on his face that looked very much like he had slapped it on as soon as he heard Desmond's voice, because there was something almost nervous underneath the frown and raised eyebrow.

"Yes, Desmond? Care to waste a little more of my time?"

The lack of bite in the words was what propelled Desmond forward, made him grab the taller's wrist and pull the protesting man inside the room he had been about to enter.

"What in the name of-"

Shaun had stopped talking.

Desmond guessed that it probably had something to do with the dark pink blush that was staining his cheeks.

"L-Look. Don't say anything. I just need to get this off my fucking chest.."

The soon-to-be-assassin took Shaun's silence as a yes, and, as he focused his tawny gaze on an interesting bit of floor, swallowed against the rapid beating of his heart and clenched his sweaty palms into fists, he spoke.

"I-.. I don't know how to say it. This is.. the first time I've ever felt this way.. and I must be crazy for feeling this way for /you/.. You.. who probably hates me more than anything.."

A strange, strained sort of chuckle punctuated the tense silence, along with a strange noise that almost sounded like a /protest/. Desmond ignored it, blinked away the wet prickling in his eyes, and continued on.

"A-Aha.. And, I'm a /guy/. And you're a guy. So, I shouldn't even be feeling anything anyway but I do. Just. Shaun. /God/, I'm in love with you. I'm a fucking idiot, and I'm in love with you."

The realization that he finally said it made him tremble and keep his eyes locked onto to floor. There was no way he could look at the elder right now. Not when he had-

All train of thought stopped as he felt a finger hook under his chin, pull his head up and turned it until Desmond's eyes met those rust-colored ones behind black-framed glasses. What he found there wasn't disgust, nor was there contempt. Instead, there was an emotion so intense that it made Desmond's breath catch within his throat.

"I don't hate you."

Shaun's accented voice, filled with the same emotion that glimmered in his eyes, captivated Desmond and made it impossible to look away.

"In fact, what I feel for you is the complete opposite of hate.."

Desmond felt his heart give a thrilling little leap at the words, and at the way Shaun kept closing the distance between their lips. Only when they were centimeters apart and the younger could feel Shaun's breath on his lips did he stop and speak.

"I just wish I could have told you I loved you first.."

Then they were kissing, all tongue and breath and sweetness and fire and when they broke apart it was only to suck in much-needed air and stumble toward the bed where they became lost in the throes of love and passion and something too great to describe.

Hours after, as they lay entangled in each other's arms exhausted but happy, it occurred to Desmond that he had never even given Shaun the necklace.