"I love you."
They never say it; but then again one usually wouldn't expect Assassins to. Despite having both of his parents around, Altair never hears these words as a child. He doesn't really miss them in the brief respites between training. He never hears them, but sometimes he catches a glimpse; in how his mother's mouth tilts upwards ever so slightly at Al Mualim's praise in his progress, how his father has a warm look in his eye when he lays a comforting hand on his son's shoulder after his finger is removed.
Years later, little hands grab at his tunic. Up, up. His son isn't even five yet, and already he has his father's love of high places. Carefully the little boy is hoisted on high, smiling happily and placing a little hand palm to palm with his father's. Quietly, quietly, Altair looks at the soft skin a few shades lighter than his own and the urge comes to him.
Even after saying it for the first time so long ago, the words still lodge themselves in his throat. This happens to him all the time, so often that the words are not said as often as he would like them to be. To his ears they lack the fluidity and ease that others utter them with. But, Altair does like to think that he has mastered the silent smiles of his mother and proud gaze of his father. Perhaps they will be enough.
...But not for today as his baby jibbers on in a mix of Arabic and French, telling his daddy about his infant adventures. Hugging the little boy tighter, "I love you," he says.
And, awkwardness aside, the "'Love you too, daddy" in response is worth it.
AN: Aw, it's a story about daddy!Altair! Because if you think about it, Altair would be an amazing dad. Maybe a little overprotective, but that's kind of justified considering what he does for a living. This is partially dedicated to my Ezio (you know who you are). I promise I'll write one about little Jack, ok?